The Silver Sphinx

 

“She may be a poxy doxy, but she's the only town for me.”

refrain to “Plague-Mort's my Lady” by Blind Lemon Dulmaster, tiefling performer

 

Second Lower Day of Mortis, 126 HR

A week after the meeting in his new apartment, Naghûl met with Lereia, Sgillin, Jana, and Kiyoshi at the Barracks. Ironically – or perhaps it was the Lady's bizarre sense of humor – there was a portal in the Harmonium headquarters leading to the immediate vicinity of Plague-Mort. This had the advantage that no one outside their factions would be able to observe where they were going, be it Shemeshka or anyone else. They had, of course, prepared for their journey into the Abyss in accordance with their last meeting.

Naghûl, who would take on the role of leader of the supposed mercenary troop, had opted for a dark battle robe with red appliqués, adorned with silver spikes and hellish runes. He wore pointed metal caps on his curved horns, a cloak made from the fur of an Abyssal beast, and a staff with a pulsating, blood-red crystal. The ensemble was rounded off by a necklace made from the teeth of various demons and a belt pouch from which wisps of sulfur occasionally rose.

Jana was to pose as an expert in arcane magic in the group. She had consulted Terrance's secretary, Askorion, for advice on her disguise, and the young aasimar had proven to have a good eye: the sorceress wore a deep purple robe, decorated with changing arcane symbols. Her bare arms were covered in temporary tattoos of Abyssal symbols that the wizard Hobard had painted on her. Her matching jewelry consisted of several rings with onyx and hematite and a headband with a central purple opal. In addition, Jana had obtained a desecrated staff made of twisted black wood from the Athar's rich collection of clerical artifacts, through which a red grain pattern ran like living veins. A small bottle of swirling chaos energy that she wore on her belt and a brooch in the shape of a demonic grimace made the disguise so convincing that Naghûl congratulated Askorion inwardly. Bards - when it came to a good performance, one could always count on them.

Kiyoshi, who was supposed to pose as fighter and blacksmith, had obtained an impressive suit of armor from the Harmonium's armory that mimicked draconic scales, with shoulder spikes and a wide, sturdy belt made of basilisk hide. It was complemented by gauntlets decorated with dragon claws, a deep red cloak of fireproof fabric, and a necklace made of dragon teeth. On his belt, he wore a small bottle, the shape and cap of which suggested that it contained dragon blood – but in reality, it was a powerful healing potion for emergencies.

Sgillin was to act as scout and tracker and had apparently asked his cell for help with the clothing. The Razor Angels had chosen well, Naghûl thought. The half-elf wore a dark, well-fitting leather armor with elven patterns interwoven with Abyssal symbols. He had also been given a hooded cloak that seemed to blend in with the shadows, as well as a longbow with a string made of demon hair. Magical paint had been used to apply some demonic-looking tattoos to his skin, and his belt held a pipe carved from the horn of a manticore.

Only Lereia's disguise Naghûl had not seen yet, as she had arrived in her tiger form. The plan was for her to play the role of Naghûl's slave, but she had decided to venture into this hostile environment in her animal form first. Naghûl understood her reasoning. As a tiger, she was considerably stronger and more dangerous, and therefore felt safer, whereas in the role of a slave she was more vulnerable in unpleasant situations. It was therefore understandable that she chose to transform before venturing into a place like Plague-Mort. Kiyoshi carried her luggage, which contained her disguise and some trade goods. So they would have to wait a little longer to see what the Godsmen had chosen for Lereia, but Naghûl assumed that Ambar's instincts were as accurate as Askorion's.

In addition to their usual travel gear, they carried a collection of various planar currencies, including some soul coins, rare poisons to use as gifts for Red Shroud if necessary, various drugs that were always in demand in the Abyss, valuable trade goods such as gems, high-quality ores and forged items, and a few rare spell foci. They had prepared a credible backstory about their former mercenary activities and their interest in black mithral, and had been given faction contacts for emergencies, an Athar in Plague-Mort and an Anarchist in Broken Reach. As Naghûl had said at the meeting a week earlier, he had never been so well prepared for the Abyss, and that worried him a little. Could one ever be too well prepared? He quickly eyed the group and was satisfied with the first impression. They would certainly pass as a troop of mercenaries operating in the Lower Planes. However, there was still room for improvement in terms of behavior. While Sgillin appeared as confident as one would expect from someone with an actual background as a mercenary, and Lereia was impressive as a tigress anyway, Jana clearly did not feel safe in her role yet. She kept tugging at her purple dress and running her fingers through her now braided hair so often that the hairstyle Jaya had carefully arranged was already looking a little disheveled. Kiyoshi appeared much calmer, but it seemed to Naghûl that he felt very uncomfortable appearing in the Barracks dressed like that. The tiefling sighed quietly. The sorceress and the soldier definitely needed to adopt a more aggressive, self-confident posture and manner of gesturing. But that would happen once they were in the right environment, he hoped.

When they entered the Barracks' entrance hall, where Kiyoshi was waiting for them, they were eyed with curiosity and irritation by the soldiers on guard. Kiyoshi struck his fist against his chest in greeting, but then kept his head bowed so as not to have to look anyone in the eye. Sgillin, on the other hand, waved to the guards in a friendly manner.

Lady Diana sat behind her large desk, as she usually did during the day, and nodded kindly when she saw the faces she knew well by now. She did not seem surprised by the Chosen's appearance, so she was probably at least vaguely informed about the upcoming mission. “Well, hello,” she greeted them with a laugh. ”Very daring.”

“The Lady's Grace, dearest Lady Diana,” Naghûl replied. “I am sorry that I must appear before you today in such a sad array, but duty is duty.”

The concierge grinned briefly. “Well said. Decurion Verûsa has already let it be known that you have a mission and need his assistance. You will find him in instruction room four.”

“My deepest thanks.” Naghûl bowed. “May Her Shadow never cut you.”

“May She who Rules in Silence be gracious to you,” Diana replied kindly.

The tiefling now let Kiyoshi go ahead, assuming that he surely knew better where instruction room four might be. This was the case, and the young soldier led them unerringly down the wide corridor to a row of larger doors numbered from one to eight. He stopped at the fourth and knocked.

“Come in!” a voice answered immediately from inside.

Kiyoshi opened the door, and when they entered, they spotted a tall man in his mid-thirties. His fair skin had a certain alabaster sheen, his shoulder-length hair was silver-white, and his eyes were bright blue. Naghûl suspected that due to his two horns, the man, probably decurion Aranis Verûsa, was often mistaken for a tiefling by those unfamiliar with the planes. A cutter knew, of course, that this could also be a sign of celestial heritage, as the cervidal guardinals of Elysium had horns, too. And the decurion appeared to be an aasimar of this lineage. Kiyoshi saluted by striking his fist against his chest, but kept his head bowed.

“Ah, soldier Kiyoshi,” Aranis Verûsa greeted him kindly. ”The Lady's Grace.”

He nodded to the others in greeting, his gaze briefly lingering on Lereia. Her decision to come along in her animal form had been rather spontaneous, so the decurion had probably not been told to expect a tigress. Perhaps he thought she was the familiar of either Jana, Sgillin, or Naghûl. And although Lereia could speak when transformed, she clearly didn't feel like it at the moment, which might reinforce Verûsa's impression.

“So,” he said with a slight smile. ”On a secret mission, huh?”

“That's right.” Naghûl nodded, while Kiyoshi clearly wished the ground would open and swallow him up. The tiefling remembered that the soldier had had similar problems during the mission in the Mortuary. Although his factol Sarin had explained to him that undercover investigations did not fall under the Harmonium's “lying is wrong” principle, Kiyoshi still felt anything but comfortable with it.

“Yes, I'm partly informed of it.” Aranis Verûsa nodded, now more serious. “I don't know much, only that you're supposed to go to the Abyss. Dangerous place, my respect.”

“We'll earn it when we get back,” Sgillin replied with a smile. ”Unscathed, mind you.”

“Hm.” The aasimar raised his eyebrows. “Good point.”

Jana sighed. “It's not like we chose the destination.”

Naghûl, on the other hand, felt his Sensate enthusiasm gaining the upper hand despite the dangers ahead. “Oh, it'll be a great experience!” he said, almost euphoric.

Sgillin looked at him and tapped his forehead with a grin.

Aranis Verûsa also shook his head in amusement. “With all due respect, you Sensates are seriously off your rocker.”

“Yes,” the half-elf agreed. “Well said.”

Naghûl had to laugh. “Of course, otherwise the sensory stones would be all too bland.”

“That's true,“ Jana admitted.

“Who am I to judge the philosophy of other factions?” decurion Verûsa said with a smile. “I mean, apart from the fact that our way is the right way, everyone should seek heaven in their own fashion.” He didn't seem entirely joking, but he wasn't completely serious either.

Naghûl raised his hands with a grin. “If others weren't on the wrong path, you wouldn't have anyone to teach.”

“There's more going on here than on the Philosophers' Forum in the Temple District,” Verûsa remarked cheerfully. “Come on, I'll show you the portal.”

“Thank you very much,” the tiefling replied, in good humor.

He followed the aasimar enthusiastically, while Sgillin and Lereia walked more calmly behind them. Jana seemed clearly nervous, and Kiyoshi trailed so far behind that it almost looked as if he didn't belong to the group. Aranis Verûsa led them to the end of the long corridor, through the Great Auditorium and a little further, before opening a door and inviting the group into a room that was probably some kind of archive. Then he stopped at the wall opposite the entrance, where a round arch was built into the stone, not a door, but merely a decoration between two shelves.

“There it is,” the decurion explained.

Naghûl examined the spot Verûsa had pointed out and actually sensed the faint energy signature emanating from each portal, which most planars could perceive. Although unknown to many, he himself was not a planar, but he could recognize the portal thanks to his arcane gift. He shook his head slightly. “The portal to Plague-Mort in the middle of the Barracks. Well, irony is also a kind of humor.”

“Yes, the Lady's humor is unfathomable,” Verûsa replied with a sigh. “One more thing before you go through: this portal is not widely known, and we want to keep it that way. It's bad enough that we have a gate to Plague-Mort in the Barracks, but not everyone needs to know about it.”

Jana nodded. “Of course.”

“As for the key on this side of the portal ...” The aasimar looked around. “I hope one of you has recently attended a lecture on chaos matter.”

“Ahhh.” Naghûl grinned as the penny dropped. “Indeed, I have.” Now he understood why Erin had sent him to that lecture the day before. Sarin must have explained to her that attending such a lecture was the key. Well, that was at least something, the tiefling thought to himself. Since the portal was not located in a central part of the Barracks, especially not in a door frame, and since members of the Harmonium rarely attended lectures on chaos matter, the risk of someone accidentally stepping through was at least minimal.

Aranis seemed to sense Naghûl's thoughts and smiled. “Very good. Otherwise, this portal would stay closed.”

Kiyoshi, who had remained in the background in shame since the greeting, finally spoke up. ”Forgive me, honorable decurion Verûsa Aranis-senpai, but what is the key to return?”

The aasimar handed the soldier a small bag made of sturdy leather. “A piece of razor vine with fresh blood on it. The razor vine is in the bag. You must add the blood before passing through.”

Naghûl nodded. ”Thank you very much, decurion. Well then ... Let's jump into purgatory!”

“Take good care of yourselves over there,” the aasimar said seriously. “Good luck!”

“We'll need it,” Sgillin predicted, then Naghûl stepped close to the stone arch and the portal opened ...

 

A blink of an eye and a flash of light later, they stood in the Outlands – and by no means in their most pleasant part. The landscape around them was rough and gloomy, marked by jagged rocks and twisted, sickly vegetation struggling to survive on the cracked ground. Sulfurous geysers regularly erupted from deep crevices, releasing poisonous fumes, and in the distance, toothed rock formations rose from the barren soil, their silhouettes reminiscent of demonic figures. The sky above was a turbulent mass of dark, threatening clouds with an unhealthy green hue. Occasionally, red flashes lit up the landscape, accompanied by distant rumblings that sounded more like painful moans than thunder. An oppressive heat weighed down on everything, making the air thick and suffocating. Naghûl saw how the surroundings affected the two most nature-loving among them, Sgillin and Lereia, in particular. The tigress laid her ears back, while the half-elf wrapped his cloak protectively around himself despite the heat. Naghûl looked around to see where they had come out, where the way back to Sigil lay. The other side of the portal was the entrance to a small cave in a larger rock formation. The tiefling memorized it well, then let his gaze wander over the inhospitable plain.

Fortunately, they would not have to wander through this landscape for long. Only about a mile away, the walls of Plague-Mort rose up. They towered before them like a massive barrier of blackened stone that seemed to absorb the sparse light of the surroundings. As they drew nearer, they saw that grotesque gargoyles and demonic faces were carved into the masonry, their expressions frozen in eternal torment or malicious glee. At irregular intervals, spiked towers rose from the walls, crowned by pulsating, poison-green flames that bathed the surroundings in a sickly light. They had spoken little since passing the portal, but the closer they got to the town, the more the group fell silent, apparently preparing themselves internally for their roles. The main gate of Plague-Mort was massive and forbidding, framed by two huge, curved horns whose tips almost touched at the top. The gate itself was made of materials that looked like blackened bone and metal, amalgamated in a nightmarish fusion. The surface was covered with disturbing carvings depicting scenes of torment and depravity. A deep moat surrounded the town, filled not with water but with a bubbling, corrosive substance that occasionally emitted poisonous fumes. Above it stretched a drawbridge made of bones and tendons, seemingly stable but disturbingly organic. The gate was guarded by two tieflings, a man and a woman, clad in black and red leather armor, and a swarm of quasits fluttered around the spiked towers. The guards watched the approaching group with a mixture of suspicion and alertness, but seemed only half-heartedly dedicated.

“Hey!” the man growled. ”Who are you and what do you want?”

“Hello, folks,” Naghûl greeted them with an accent common in the lower gate towns. “We're on our way to Broken Reach.”

The woman let her yellow eyes wander over the group, briefly eyeing Sgillin with interest, then looking at Lereia. “Nice animal. Yours?”

“Yeah,” Naghûl confirmed. ”Bought it from a Vile Hunt big game hunter who caught it in the Beastlands. It's well trained.”

To emphasize his story, Lereia took a few steps closer to him and let him place his hand on her head.

The guard looked more closely at the tigress. “You don't want to sell it, do you?”

“No, thanks,” Naghûl replied. “It cost me quite some jink and is too good a guard animal.”

The woman spat to the side but nodded. ”Sure, understand.”

“And what do you want in Broken Reach?“ the man now asked.

“Trade,” Naghûl replied. “With a little luck, we'll get some black mithral.”

“You shady fortune hunters with your black mithral,” growled the guard. “You all just want to get to Broken Reach, but none of you want to leave your jink here.”

“Oh, if the town has something to offer, we wouldn't be averse,“ Sgillin interjected.

“See,” said the woman. “Maybe the new Arch-Lector will do something with the town again.”

“As if!” the man grumbled, but then nodded to the group. ”All right, go in. At least spend a few greens here.”

They hurried through the gate, not wanting to risk the chaotic town guards changing their minds. Naghûl breathed a sigh of relief. The first step had been taken, and it hadn't gone too badly. The others had kept in the background as agreed, but their posture, gestures, and facial expressions had been convincing enough not to arouse suspicion. Naghûl knew the Arch-Lector mentioned by the tiefling woman: Sarshán. A fallen half-angel from the prime world of Ravnica, from a guild called Orzhov. He and Morânia had dealt with her on the island of Terra Equilibrium, where they had lived for a while. His wife in particular harbored a deep dislike for Sarshán, perhaps because, being a quarter deva herself, she simply couldn't understand why a half-celestial would turn her back on light and good. The fact that the lady was now the ruler of a gate town to hell apparently confirmed Morânia's reservations.

As they stepped through the gates, they immediately realized that they had entered a corrupt place. Everything was gloomy and oppressive, but not in a magnificent and impressive way, as also evil places could be. No, here everything was somehow run-down, as if the town had seen far better days. Most of the houses were built of dark, weathered stone and reinforced with iron bands, a crude mixture of massive blocks and twisted towers, with gargoyles on the roofs and demonic faces carved into the doorways. The narrow, winding streets were oppressively overshadowed by the tall buildings. As they ventured further into the town, they could almost physically feel how the atmosphere in Plague-Mort was marked by constant unrest and subliminal horror. The overcast sky bathed the town in a dull, monochrome light, and a hot wind blew through the streets, carrying with it the faint smell of decay and the distant echo of tortured screams. The air was thick with tension, as if the inhabitants were constantly bracing themselves for inevitable disaster. Plague-Mort was undoubtedly a place where the boundaries between the planes blurred and the influence of the Abyss permeated every stone and shadow.

As they walked through the streets, Naghûl quietly encouraged the group to move upright and confidently, not to adopt a hesitant or even crouched posture, so as not to encourage the townspeople to attack them. The Sensate knew that the inhabitants here were a tough and suspicious bunch who had adapted to the harsh environment and the ever-present threat from the Abyss. A mixture of humans, tieflings, drow, and yuan-ti made up a large part of the population, but lesser tanar'ri such as dretches, jovocs, rutterkin, cambions, and alu were also a common sight in the streets. They were joined by various undead, dark fey, and grim and ferocious were creatures, at the sight of which Lereia laid her ears back and revealed her impressive fangs. 

 

Naghûl tried to move quickly but not too fast, so as not to appear fearful or as if they were fleeing from something. They passed a shop that apparently sold various types of blood, and leaning against the entrance was an elegantly dressed woman with red hair who was almost certainly a vampire. She eyed the group with interest, making no effort to hide her hungry gaze. Naghûl felt Jana's steps behind him become irregular and uncertain. She kept looking back at the undead woman, whose interest had obviously been piqued by the sorceress' nervousness. The tiefling cursed inwardly. He knew that Jana had had bad experiences with vampires in the past. In her youth, she had apparently been kidnapped by one who had performed dark experiments on her. These had given Jana her arcane powers, but also traumatized her deeply. Finally, Jana stopped and stared uncertainly at the vampire. The undead naturally took this as an invitation and moved a few steps towards her.

“What now?“ the sorceress whispered fearfully.

“Keep going,” Naghûl answered in a hushed voice. “Just keep going.” He gently took Jana's elbow and pulled her along, trying not to pay any further attention to the vampire without appearing too evasive or fearful.

Sgillin and Kiyoshi followed them stoically, their eyes fixed ahead, while Lereia bared her fangs and hissed softly. The undead woman eyed the tigress with a mixture of alertness and greed, but then apparently decided not to take any chances and retreated back towards her shop. Naghûl breathed a sigh of relief when the brief, threatening situation eased. He continued towards the center of Plague-Mort, the Arch-Lector Palace, where the portal to Broken Reach was located. This brought them to the merchant quarter, which also housed the town's large street market. Naghûl had unpleasant memories of their former crossing of Sigil's Night Market. At that time, he had had to incapacitate Kiyoshi with a spell because the completely inexperienced soldier had made attempts to enforce Sigil's laws and his own faction philosophy in one of the most disreputable areas of the Hive. The tiefling cast a watchful glance at the young man, but this time he remained calm and composed. Naghûl nodded gently. Yes, Kiyoshi had also been in Sigil for almost a year now and had learned how the planes worked, that one could not always act as accustomed to in their prime home world.

So they entered the large street market of the gate town without fuss and without attracting unwanted attention. The stalls of the hellish bazaar were made of rough wood and iron and often crested with skulls and other macabre decorations. Loud voices could be heard everywhere, haggling for goods in Common and in Abyssal, and the acrid smell of dubious potions and charred meat hung over the square. As expected, the merchants here offered goods of dubious nature and origin: weapons forged in hellfire or imbued with demonic essence, cursed relics and forbidden books, exotic and poisonous herbs from Pazunia, demon blood, torture instruments, and maps of the Abyss, often unreliable or deliberately misleading. Many slaves were also sold here, looking desperate and hopeless. Several disreputable taverns could be seen on the edge of the market, and above it all hung a hazy, reddish sky that conveyed an omnipresent mood of doom. They passed through the terrible market as quickly as possible and without any major incidents. Once, a group of pitiful figures tried to sell them their own kidneys or eyeballs, and another time, a stray hell hound became aggressive, but was driven away by Lereia's threatening growl. After leaving the gruesome bazaar behind, they came to a district that appeared to be mainly residential. Its division into two parts was striking: to their right they saw a completely dilapidated slum. The houses and their inhabitants were in even worse condition than in the rest of the town; the Hive seemed almost friendly compared to this hell. To their left were streets lined with elegant black marble houses, richly decorated, often guarded and separated by fences. And directly ahead, a hill rose up, which seemed to be the highest point in town. On top of it stood a large building, darkly noble, made of obsidian and ivory: the palace of the Arch-Lector.

“That shrew ...” Naghûl muttered quietly.

They stayed on the main road, approaching the magnificent building, when a grotesque procession passed them, coming from the market - a so-called chain mob, slaves destined for hard labor, all chained together. It was customary in the Abyss to chain small groups of slaves together without ever removing their shackles. From then on, they had to perform their hard labor together and spend the rest of their lives chained to each other. This was usually not a long life, and that was perhaps the only mercy these poor souls ever experienced. The glowing chains on their wrists radiated a faint heat, and demonic guards with whip-like tendrils drove them forward, their growled commands echoing off the stone walls. The bystanders stepped aside, glanced briefly as the slaves were led to their cruel fate, and then went on their way.

Naghûl felt his heart tighten. It wasn't his first time in a gate town to hell, nor would it be his first time visiting one of the hells themselves. He knew what awaited him, what he would see and experience. He had experienced it often enough. And yet, every time, it was depressing and cruel to see how much evil and suffering there was in the planes, how many desperate and damned souls that no one would save. Not even him, as much as he wanted to. One could save a desperate merchant in the Outlands from highwaymen, a kidnapped child or a village from being raided by a band of robbers. One could even defend an island on a prime world against a horde of demons. He had done all that, together with his wife Morânia, sometimes also together with Sgillin, Lereia, and Jana. But one couldn't destroy evil itself. One couldn't free all the slaves in a hellish gate town or even the damned from the Abyss. There were limits for individuals and even limits for the hosts of heaven. Sometimes one had a mission and had to see and experience terrible things along the way. Sometimes one couldn't help. Sometimes one had to close eyes and heart to keep going. That, too, was an experience. That, too, was a necessity. But even though Naghûl had learned this long ago, it still stung every time.

Entangled in these dark thoughts, he almost didn't notice the two women he had nearly run into: a medusa and an alu, who were talking at the corner of a house. He managed to slow down just in time and gave them a wide berth. However, a mane shuffling past was less careful and bumped roughly into the medusa. The snake-haired woman angrily looked at the lesser demon and her eyes glowed ... The mane let out a frightened screech that ended abruptly when it was turned to stone.

“Fleabag,” hissed the medusa, and the alu laughed loudly.

“Hard luck,” Sgillin muttered, consciously or unconsciously putting some distance between himself and the medusa as he passed.

Jana almost stumbled because she couldn't take her eyes off the petrified mane, but then hurried to catch up with the others. So far, their disguise had apparently been good; no one had stopped them. One or two bloodhounds, the Arch-Lector's bodyguards, had briefly eyed them suspiciously, but aside from that nobody had noticed them and with their attire they actually blended in well with the crowd. So far, so good, Naghûl thought to himself. Now they had to get through the portal at the Arch-Lector Palace, and he suspected that there would be a fee. Before they went up, however, he wanted to get an idea of how many guards were standing up there, whether the crowd was large, what the mood was like ... So that his observation would not be too conspicuous, Naghûl went to a merchant who had set up a stall on a street corner at the last block of houses before the palace grounds.

“Let's see what you have,“ he said.

“The dark blessing of Graz'zt for you,” the merchant greeted, a tiefling with reddish skin, green hair and two curved backward horns. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

“A souvenir for my little girl,“ Naghûl improvised, keeping his eyes as discreetly as possible on the palace.

“Hmm, let me see ...” The merchant began rummaging through his display while Jana leaned against the nearest wall and Lereia took a seat beside her. Kiyoshi and Sgillin stayed with Naghûl.

“Ah yes, how about this?” the tiefling said, pulling out a necklace made of what appeared to be white pearls. ”A pretty necklace, and the white skull beads are guaranteed to be carved from real elven bones.”

He grinned at Sgillin, and Naghûl could see that it took some self-control for the half-elf not to say anything, instead biting his lower lip.

The Sensate waved it off. “Bling? Oh, I don't know, never mind ...” He certainly wasn't going to buy anything made of elven bones, secret mission or not.

“How about this music box?” the merchant offered. “With wonderful Abyssal ornaments.” He opened the lacquered box to reveal a lascivious succubus sitting inside, lolling while a melody played - which didn't even sound too bad, Naghûl had to admit. That was more to his taste.

“That looks better,“ he said, glancing up at the palace again. The crowd at the portal didn't seem too big at the moment, as far as he could tell from down here.

“Only fifty ivory bits,” the merchant offered.

“Fifty?” Naghûl laughed. “Are you crazy?”

“Finest craftsmanship from Azzagrat!” the merchant assured emphatically.

“Yeah, sure.” The Sensate tapped his forehead. “I'll give you thirty.”

“Let's say forty,” the tiefling haggled.

Naghûl uttered a short curse in Abyssal. “Oomg hoo! No, no, thirty-five.”

The merchant grinned broadly. “Thirty-eight.”

“Oh, come on,” Sgillin said dismissively. “You can find that kind of junk anywhere. Let's go.”

“Hey, don't be rude!” The tiefling merchant crossed his arms indignantly. ”No one else here has anything like this.”

Naghûl realized that he actually wanted the music box. A small souvenir to remember this trip. He often brought back little trinkets like this from his adventures. “Oh, let the Abyss swallow me whole!” he exclaimed. “Fine, thirty-eight.”

“Excellent decision!” the merchant declared with satisfaction, while Sgillin rolled his eyes.

“I want to see the chick dance,“ Naghûl said with a shrug. “I enjoy that.” He counted out the bone coins and paid, then took the music box the merchant handed him.

“And I finally want to put my feet up somewhere,” Jana interjected. “Can we please move on?”

Naghûl nodded, but then looked up at the portal again. “Busy day?” he asked.

“Oh, not so much,” the tiefling replied. “Rather quiet today.” Then his gaze wandered to Sgillin, he held up the necklace once more and whispered with a grin. “Eeelven bones.”

The ranger glared at him. “Forget it.”

“How much?“ Kiyoshi asked abruptly.

The others, including Naghûl, looked at him in surprise, but immediately tried not to let their irritation show too clearly.

“Are you interested?” the merchant asked happily. “Sixty ivory bits.”

“Sure,” the young man replied dismissively. “Forty.”

It was unusual to hear the otherwise overly polite Kiyoshi speak in this manner, but even stranger was that he wanted to buy this necklace. What was his purpose?

“Fifty,” demanded the merchant.

Kiyoshi let his gaze wander over the display. ”Forty-five and the ashtray there.”

Jana eyed Kiyoshi thoughtfully from the side, and Sgillin was clearly irritated but held back.

“Which one?” asked the merchant. “The one with the symbols of Demogorgon?”

Kiyoshi nodded, and the tiefling thought for a moment. “Um ... Well, all right, because your friend was such a good customer.”

Kiyoshi pulled out the coins and paid, while the tiefling handed him the necklace and the ashtray. Then the soldier turned without another word and walked toward the Arch-Lector Palace. The others followed him, still puzzled by this behavior they couldn't understand.

When they had moved a short distance away from the merchant, Kiyoshi turned to Sgillin and handed him the necklace. “Here, honorable friend,” he said solemnly. ”Bury them according to your customs.”

A look of honest surprise appeared on the half-elf's face as he took the necklace. Then he smiled. “Thank you,” he replied, touched, as he carefully tucked the gruesome piece of jewelry away.

Kiyoshi's expression softened for a moment, and one could almost think he was returning Sgillin's smile. Naghûl nodded gently. He had assumed that the young soldier had not bought the necklace without good reason. But he had not been sure what that reason might be. After the brief moment of affinity, Kiyoshi's expression became impassive again and he turned his gaze to the palace in front of them. The towering building of obsidian, black marble, and ivory dominated Plague-Mort with its intimidating presence. The smooth walls reflected the dim light in a dull glow, the battlements were crowned with jagged spikes, and the facade was decorated with demonic figures and hellish runes. The only entrance consisted of a heavy, iron-clad door guarded by massive, armored bulezau. But they didn't want to enter the palace; they wanted to use the gate that led to the Abyss. It was the leftmost of three arches on the side of the palace facing the city gate.

“Not bad,” Sgillin muttered. “Evil, but impressive.”

“Indeed,” Naghûl replied quietly. “You have to admire the quality of the architecture, Abyssal or not.” Then he walked over to the group of bloodhounds standing guard at the portal. “Hey there!” he greeted them.

One of them stepped forward and nodded curtly. “What's up?” She seemed to be a drow with fiendish blood, for she had dark gray skin, white hair, and pointed ears, but also two elegantly curved horns and a long tail.

Naghûl pointed to the archway. “We want to pass the portal, sweetheart.”

“You say sweetheart!“ She grinned and spat. “I say jink!”

“Sure, sure.” The Sensate sighed dramatically. “How much?”

She put both hands on her hips. “What do you have to offer, huh?”

“Just bought a music box with a rakish succubus,” the Sensate said with a grin. “But I'm afraid it won't do.” The guard laughed and shook her head, whereupon Naghûl began rummaging in his pockets. “What do you have in mind? A hundred each?”

“Hm.” She shook her head. ”More like three hundred each.”

“By my mother's ass!” Naghûl blurted out. “Three hundred?”

She pulled out a dagger and began cleaning her fingernails with its tip, looking bored. “The Arch-Lector has high expenses.”

“All right,” said Naghûl. “I've got a nice rock here. But it's for me and my people.” He held up a flawless ruby. “And for the way back, of course. We don't want to rot over there.”

The bloodhound put away her dagger, her interest clearly piqued. “Can I have a look?”

“Sure,” the Sensate replied sarcastically. “And then you run off and leave us standing here like pissed manes.”

“Hey, don't get cheeky!” warned the guard. ”I'm not letting you pass without checking that thing. Might as well just be a worthless piece of glass.”

Naghûl snorted derisively, but then handed her the ruby. “All right ... here, take a look.” Of course, both his initial refusal to let her examine the gem and his reluctant concession were just an act to make the scene more convincing, to behave as was customary in Plague-Mort.

The bloodhound took the gem and examined it against the light emanating from the portal - she seemed to know a thing or two about it. “Hmm, it actually looks good. All right: this nice little rock here in exchange for the passage and the return trip for the four of you, your pet, and any prisoners you may have on the way back. But slaves have to be paid for separately!”

Naghûl nodded. “Deal!”

She pocketed the ruby. ”Well then, have fun. Oh, one more thing ... The new Arch-Lector has this weird new rule: no child slaves in Plague-Mort. So if you buy any over there, you'll have to transport children otherwise.”

This information surprised Naghûl. Did Sarshán have certain limits after all? He had to tell Morânia about this. Maybe the celestial part of her wasn't completely lost? But he quickly hid his feelings from the guard by snorting disparagingly. “Those brats are useless in a smithy anyway. I don't care about them.”

The bloodhound shrugged. ”Just wanted to say.”

“Why is that?” Jana asked. “Did she say why?” Noticing the guard's skeptical look, she quickly added: “Surely there's a lot of jink to be lost?”

“No idea,” the bloodhound replied. ”It's probably just one of the lady's quirks. Every high-up has their own.”

“You're right!” Naghûl said with a laugh, then turned to his group. “Come on, everyone.”

They nodded and, for the second time in a few hours, stepped through a portal they would never have chosen if it weren't for that mysterious Prophecy …

 

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played January 9, 2013

Lereia came along in tiger form and didn't speak because Lereia's player wasn't there that evening.