Session 46: A Bard's Last Song
General Summary
In the hopes of finding a set of astral pistons, the party had set out for Bazelsteen's workshop at the Stygian Dock, but they quickly changed their plans when they saw a host of fiends under the command of a huge, winged devil had landed their infernal machine at the pier. Remembering Basil's little workshop where Fenrir Firecam and Leojym had previously tested out a submersible diving bell, the adventurers opted to check out that space instead. Having made their way there on their motorcycles, they did a quick search of the discarded house and found nothing of interest. They were surprised, however, to hear an army on the march headed exactly in their direction.
Some quick thinking led to the party deciding to try and get the drops on the army; mounting their Devil's Ride motorcycles and driving off before the troopers even knew they were there. They climbed the infernall cliffs back to the road where they had parked their cycles, and mounted up, only to be cut short from their escape by the blue fiend itself. The devil introduced themselves as Lucille; second-in-command to Zariel, Archduchess of Avernus and Legatus Infernam of the Dark Eight, before demanding the purpose of the interlopes, by which they addressed the party. Feeling an air of terror surrounding this particular fiend, most of the adventurers froze up, and their silence was met with a demonstration of Lucille's raw power as they pointed their finger toward the center of the group, causing a fireball to erupt in their center.
Bertha could hold her tongue no further against the belittling of her friends as done by this compelling figure, and spoke out against them. When pressed by Lucille, the tabaxi bard could not be swayed, and even dismounted her vehicle to face off against the enormous fiend. The devil, standing in front of their troops, could not suffer this infringement on their command, and as quickly as they drew their massive maul, that's how quickly it was over. Four times, the pit fiend struck the defenseless bard, turning her physical form into a pile of gore and mush, to the sheer horror of Bertha's companions.
When it was done, Lucille once again addressed the adventurers, now trembling in their seats. The pit fiend demanded their servitude in exchange for their lives, their proposal sounding more like a requisition than an honest trade, and, though having zero intention to honor their agreement, the party accepted the terms, and to their surprise, they were let off the hook.
Collecting the remains of Bertha's corpse, the remaining three adventurers sat down to collect their bearings before the reality of what had happened, truly set in: it could have happened to any single one of them, but Bertha; the one partner in their search for the contract with Zariel to still have a soul, gave her life standing up for them. Had this happened to anyone else, then their sould would have been dragged out of the River Styx by now, being reshaped into a lumbering lemure. They talked about honoring Bertha's memory; should they carry her remains around with them, send them back to Elturel, or what?
Eventually they settled for a symbolic burial in the ruins of one of the Avernian marketplaces that they had come across before. Bertha would find rest in a place symbolic to her final acts, for as defiant as she was toward Lucille, that is how the beauty of the ruins stands defiant of the desolate wasteland that the first circle of the Nine Hells had turned into. Ronaldus Swanstone carved out a beautiful grave for the remains to occupy, and crafted a masterwork grave marker for their fallen companion. Fenrir Firecam gave an inspiring speech to rally his friends, while Caja was still having trouble comprehending the death of their minstrel friend.
Eventually, after an uneasy night's rest, the three continued their journey down the asphalt road that uneasily flowed in parallel to the River Styx, until they finally came upon a wrecked wooden-and-metallic sailing vessel that had run aground one of the river's many rocky shorelines. The ship's name, Swarm's Grasp, was painted on the side in elaborate, decorative silver lettering, leading the adventurers to believe that this could not be a modron vessel; reasoning that modrons, the incarnation of "function over form" as devils are to making evil deals, the detailed carvings are just not their way of making things. If modrons had made this ship, it would barely have announced its name to onlookers at all, let alone flaunt it around with all the stylized flourish of this vessel.
Fenrir, Ron, and Caja decided to investigate the ship just as well, and found it to be surrounded by statuettes of various devils and demons, but after a painful fall down the vessel's precariously balanced forecastle, they found no further indication of its origins. That is, until the trio opened up the door to the captain's cabin, revealing a wealth of maps and scrolls, as well as tithe records, crew listings, and other scriptures. The captain, it was written, had become lost at sea in their homeworld of Ravnica; a world on a different material plane, and they spent some time scouting their immediate surroundings. Eventually, however, the entries stopped as the captain logged their departure from the Swarm's Grasp. There appeared to be two years between the first entry in the log and the final one, although the Ravnican calendar seems to differ from the Harptos calendar, so there is no way of knowing how long the ship had been stranded here before the party'r arrival.
Finding little else of use but some rotting wooden crates filled with soil and bones, the trio disappointedly climbed back onto their vehicles and made their way back to the asphalt road, before Fenrir made an observation. A volcano that was roughly half a day's ride away seemed to be sporting a mile-high antenna, and it piqued their interest. Driving their motorcycles through rocky, mountainous terrain proved treacherous as the floors opened up to vaults of hundreds of metres' depth, with the earth trembling beneath them and the heat of the mountain blurring their vision. They decided to go with their gut, and leave the Devil's Ride-cycles behind as they continued their climb on foot.
As the mountain became more steep, it seemed increasingly impossible to climb, with stones falling away underneath the armored paladin's feet; the barbarian and the wizard finding it difficult to find purchase on the rocky ledges until they were almost vertical. Eventually, the party reached a plateau where they settled for a rest, but they were surprised to find a strangely shaped creature shift into view to speak a careful 'hello'. The modron, a winged quadrone who introduced themselves as B-52, welcomed the adventurers to what apparently was a localized trading post exclusively manned by modrons. The outpost, B-52 explained, had been put into place centuries ago to keep accounts of the Blood War, and was as much an embassy to the Hells as it was a trading post for its citizens.
The modron took the party all the way up to the caldera of the mountain, where a protective magical dome had been constructed in the blazing heat of the volcano. The small modron village, where regularly shaped, blocky abodes seemed to be the preferred building style, was about sixty structures big, and B-52 escorted the party to their quartermaster for trading. Through giving up some of their possessions in trade, the party acquired a set of astral pistons as requested by Mad Maggie, and the quadrone proceeded to bring them to the local tavern for a meal and a bed.
Fenrir Firecam
Ronaldus Swanstone
Caja
Report Date
01 Dec 2023
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