The Silver Sphinx

 

“The hand that holds the portals is the hand that rules the plane.”

ancient Pazunian proverb 

 

Second Void Day of Mortis, 126 HR

Naghûl was surrounded by thick fog. The cool air smelled exotic and intoxicating as he followed a path of obsidian. He felt both drawn and uneasy ... Suddenly, the young night hag appeared before him, her beauty even more otherworldly and seductive than at the bar. Her skin shimmered like gray pearls, her hair a cascade of living shadows. Her eyes - one blue, one red - seemed to peer directly into his soul. She beckoned him with a smile that was both inviting and predatory. He approached without resistance, without thinking, as the landscape around him transformed into a lush, dark garden filled with phosphorescent flowers and twisted, whispering trees. The night hag took his hand, and her touch sent shivers of pleasure and unease through his body. She led him deeper into the garden and spoke to him in a melodic voice, her words promising power, knowledge and joys beyond mortal comprehension.

As they walked, Naghûl caught fleeting glimpses of his reflection in still, black pools. Each time, his appearance had changed subtly - his features becoming sharper, more otherworldly, more powerful ... The hag drew him closer, her lips almost touching his ear as she whispered dark secrets to him. Secrets that could supplant his old self and replace it with something darker, but undeniably stronger ...

She leaned forward to kiss him ...

 

Naghûl awoke drenched in sweat, his heart racing. It took him a while to realize that he was in one of the suites at Broken Reach - not much better than the eerie forest from his dream, but bizarrely enough, still a relief. The hag's promises still echoed in his head, causing a lingering feeling of longing and unease. He could still feel the phantom sensation of her touch on his skin ... He cursed inwardly, once again upset that he had succumbed to the night hag's spell the night before. He knew that the evil creature drew strength from invading his dreams and hoped that his mind would be strong enough to resist her the following night. For he did not believe that he would be lucky enough to have left the Abyss by then.

Slowly, he sat up in bed and let his gaze wander around the suite. The walls of smooth black stone were streaked with veins of molten gold, and a large round bed dominated the spacious main room. The bed frame was made of polished brass and decorated with elaborate figures of writhing demons. The sheets on all the beds were made of a shimmering, blood-red fabric that felt cool despite the oppressive heat in the room. On one wall was a large fireplace, its flames burning in an unnatural purple hue, fueled by crystals instead of coal or wood. The mantelpiece was adorned with various sculptures, two of which had caught Naghûl's eye the night before. One was a miniature representation of a three-headed hell hound, each head growling in a different direction. Its eyes glowed with a faint red light, and sometimes a distant, ghostly howl could be heard from it. The other figurine was a grotesque hand, palm upward, carved from pale bone. Small flames danced across its fingertips, but did not burn the bone, instead casting eerie shadows. Despite their Abyssal style and origin, Naghûl had to admit that the two sculptures were tasteful and of high artistic quality. They would have been worthy to grace the Gehenna Lounge of the Festhall.

He dangled his legs off the bed, touching the soft, deep purple carpet in front of his sleeping place with the soles of his bare feet. Gradually, he regained some inner peace after the disturbing dream. A quick glance through the half-open silk curtains of the canopy bed revealed that Lereia was already up. This was rather unusual, as she was the one who needed the most sleep of them all. He and Jana had chosen the two simpler sleeping places by the windows of the suite and left the large bed to Lereia. They had decided that was only fair, given that the young woman was playing the role of a slave here. The sorceress was apparently already awake too; he could hear her and Lereia talking quietly. So Naghûl got up and stepped into the suite's anteroom, which was separated by a black curtain. In one corner stood a dressing table and a chair made from the bones of a huge creature. There he found the two of them.

Lereia had obviously been awake for quite a while, as she had found the time to style her long, white hair in an elaborate manner, with small red jewels and bone beads artfully woven into her braids. These hair ornaments were apparently part of the disguise provided by the Godsmen, but there had been no time for this flamboyant jewelry after Lereia's transformation the day before. But at the moment, Jana was sitting on the bone chair while the were tigress stood behind her with a brush in her hand. She was apparently helping the sorceress fix her braids, which had tangled overnight. Jana usually wore her blonde hair loose and was therefore not used to the hairstyle Jaya had braided for her before they had left. Naghûl wished the two women good morning and they greeted him back, but thankfully let him wake up in peace for the moment. The Sensate glanced briefly at the well-stocked bar in the suite. It wasn't really his style to drink in the morning, but a sip of Black Nectar seemed quite tempting after his unwelcome dreams. However, he decided against it. This was not a pleasure trip to the Golden Hall on Arborea, but a highly dangerous mission in the Abyss, for which he needed a clear head. He therefore walked resolutely past the shelf and into the bathroom to freshen up.

 

 

It was just as opulent as the rest of the suite, with a large bathtub sunk into the floor that had room for four people. But he had neither the time nor the desire for an extended bath. Instead, he contented himself with the washbasin, which was made from a single piece of purple crystal. The tap was shaped like a snarling demon's head and actually provided normal, fresh water – a concession made by Broken Reach to its mortal visitors. After washing and dressing, Naghûl stepped out onto the balcony in front of the suite's main room. It offered a breathtaking view of the hellish landscape surrounding Broken Reach. The sky, a swirling mass of dark clouds occasionally lit up by purple flashes of lightning, accurately reflected Naghûl's mood: a little uneasy due to the threatening, malevolent surroundings and still in a bad mood because of the incident with the night hag. But it was no use, they had a mission and he had to concentrate on the task ahead.

So he went back inside, and since Lereia had just finished Jana's hairstyle, he suggested to head down to the lounge. They had arranged to meet Sgillin and Kiyoshi there the next morning. He deactivated the floating witch light balls with a simple, common command word before they left the suite. When they entered the merchants' lounge with the bar, it was already surprisingly busy. They recognized some of the guests from the previous evening, such as the Blood War mercenary in black armor, the arcanaloth and the drider who had been resting on the divan upstairs. To Naghûl's relief, however, neither the succubus nor the night hag were to be seen. At one of the seating areas, they spotted Kiyoshi and Sgillin, each of them with a large cup filled with a steaming liquid. Naghûl hoped for shadow mocha. The strong, dark brew was the closest thing to black coffee in the Abyss.

Sgillin, who was just taking a sip, promptly inhaled sharply. “By all the hells, that stuff could wake the dead.”

Naghûl nodded. The aroma of the steaming drink and the half-elf's reaction definitely pointed to shadow mocha. Since they were hungry and assumed that it would not be welcome to unpack their own provisions in the middle of the lounge, they dared to order breakfast from the menu.

An unpleasant-smelling quasit soon served them sulfur eggs with red yolks, a kind of bread made from black dough with bone marrow spread, some blood-red, pear-shaped fruits and three more cups of shadow mocha. While Naghûl, as a tiefling, had no problem with the food, his companions were understandably more skeptical. Jana contented herself with some bread and the red fruits, while Sgillin tried the eggs and apparently found them acceptable. Lereia, as a were tigress, had no problem with the bone marrow spread, but refrained from eating the eggs. Her keen scent was certainly no help with this meal. Kiyoshi, on the other hand, ate mainly eggs, and Naghûl suspected that his dragon blood was the reason for this. But at least everyone found something to satisfy their hunger to some extent – not a matter of course in the Abyss.

“Say,” Jana said when they had all emptied about half of their shadow mocha. “Did you have strange dreams last night too?”

Naghûl looked up a little caught, but to his surprise, Lereia nodded seriously. “Yes, indeed.”

The Sensate frowned. Apart from the incident with the night hag, he had had another dream, but he did not connect it with the dark seductress' spell. However, if Jana and Lereia had had similar dreams, it might not be a coincidence.

“Perhaps everyone could briefly describe what they dreamed?” Lereia suggested. “It seemed like a message to me.”

“I had two dreams that troubled me tonight,” Naghûl explained. “The first was about a kind of chess game. But the pieces all looked different, and they were alive and fighting each other.” Strangely enough, he was sure he had seen at least some of those pieces on the chessboard that the vampire Count Loranóv had recently shown him. However, as the visit had been an internal faction matter, he couldn't mention this at the moment. “Besides, a voice whispered something to me,” he continued. “It said: You think you know what's coming. It hasn't started yet. The second dream was ...” He cleared his throat. “... was probably sent by the lady I met at the bar yesterday. It's not important.”

Sgillin quickly swallowed his mocha and then snorted slightly with laughter.

“Shut up,” Naghûl growled irritably.

“Ah ... Yes, I think so too,” Lereia replied with a slight smile, then looked at Jana. “And what did you dream?”

“I saw a snake,” answered the sorceress. “A huge snake in the clouds, floating upright, and in the foreground was an egg. But only the lower half, and a city was built inside it. And a voice said: Not every ending is a new beginning. I also think someone is trying to send us a message.“ ”Mysterious,“ Lereia said thoughtfully. ”Perhaps Naghûl's dream refers to Lawshredder and Jana's to a new city in the center of the multiverse? I saw myself, so to speak. There was a woman in a red cloak with a hood, holding a red rose in her hand. She approached me in the moonlight between some trees. As she came closer, I realized it was me, and I also heard a voice. It said: You have crossed the boundary first ... so soon.”

“Maybe because of the soul goulash?” Naghûl suggested.

Jana frowned skeptically. “Soul goulash?”

“Well, Ambar's soul,” the Sensate explained, glancing apologetically at Lereia.

The young woman was clearly not happy about the crude wording, but she hid it quite well. “But why now?” she wondered. “And what boundary? The woman's clothing was also unusual for me: a red dress, fine jewelry, a red cloak ... I can't interpret the message.“ She shook her head in confusion, then looked at Sgillin and Kiyoshi. ”What about you? Did you have dreams like that too?"

“Yes, I also had a strange dream,” the half-elf confirmed after taking a large sip of shadow mocha. “I saw a wide field with hundreds of ravens circling above it. In the grass knelt a young human woman who was naked. She was illuminated by a bright light coming from the clouds.”

“Did you know her?” Lereia wanted to know.

“Unfortunately not,” Sgillin replied with a grin. “She was really pretty.” When Lereia just raised her eyebrows but said nothing, he continued a little more seriously. “She had short, dark hair and a star-shaped tattoo on her right shoulder. Her head was framed by a circle of light, a bit like a halo. One of the ravens landed on her hand, and I heard a voice say: One among a thousand.“ He took another sip of mocha and shrugged. ”I have no idea what that means. All in all, apart from the beam of light, the imagery was rather gloomy."

“Forgive my ignorance,” said Kiyoshi. “But you all had dreams like that?”

Lereia looked at him. “You too?”

“Me too,” the young soldier confirmed.

“Well then, tell us about it,” Sgillin said in his direct manner.

“I dreamed of a warrior woman,” Kiyoshi reported. “She was holding a bloody katana in front of a bright moon. Her skin was decorated with a kind of tattoos as are customary among my people. She looked proud … desperate, but still combative and determined, and a voice said: Hope dies last, in every cycle.”

“So maybe it's somehow about the end of the cycle,” Lereia speculated.

Kiyoshi nodded seriously. “That's quite possible.”

“I can't make head nor tail of it,” Sgillin stated. “Of none of your dreams.”

Lereia sighed. “We can't interpret them yet, but we should keep them in mind. Kiyoshi, the katana in your dream ... was it Hope?”

“The blade looked very similar,” the young man replied. “But the hilt was different, honorable Lereia-san.”

They fell silent for a while, pondering the mysterious dreams and emptying their cups of shadow mocha. It was difficult to make sense of all these different dream images, which at first glance seemed unrelated. And yet it was striking that they all had had such a dream on the same night, in which a voice had whispered to them. But as Lereia had said, they would have to keep it in the back of their minds and deal with it later. For now, they had to concentrate on getting into the catacombs beneath the fortress. They rose as the frantic quasit reappeared to clear away the breakfast dishes.

“We have to return to the weapons dealer,” Lereia said. “But there's probably no point in going there right after breakfast. Any ideas until then?”

“Burning of hags ...” Naghûl replied grimly. His gaze wandered to the night hag, still in beautiful disguise, who had just entered the lounge. “That bitch.”

Lereia placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “She just caught your attention for a moment. It's no big deal.”

“Well, yeah …” Sgillin grinned. “For a moment.”

“Shut up!” Naghûl snapped at his friend for the second time that morning. He felt his bad mood worsen at the sight of the night hag, all the more so because her knowing gaze still caused a tingling sensation in his stomach.

“So ...” Jana looked around and illustrated her words by wrapping her arms around her body and shivering demonstratively. “Shall we move on? I have a feeling we're attracting attention. Let's just look around, stroll a little, but let's not stand around like we're plotting something.”

Sgillin frowned. “You think anyone here cares?”

“Are you crazy, you berk?” the sorceress snapped at him. “Do you even know where we are?”

Sgillin shook his head in confusion and tapped his forehead, but Jana just turned away from him. Yes, Naghûl thought to himself, the disturbing, malicious environment was gradually making itself felt, making them all more irritable and thin-skinned. Lereia huffed in annoyance and turned toward the exit, the half-elf close behind her.

“Leena,” Kiyoshi said sharply, using the young woman's cover name. “You are not leading this expedition.”

“I don't want to search for the mines alone,” Lereia said snidely. “I just want to get out. Is that forbidden?”

“If you leave without permission? I think so.” Kiyoshi's expression became even harder than usual.

Naghûl couldn't quite figure out whether he was acting as a mercenary, reprimanding an overly hasty slave, or whether, as a Harmonium soldier, he wanted to prevent any uncoordinated action, or whether the mood of the Abyss was simply rubbing off on him. Possibly all of it.

“I didn't know leaving the lounge would cause such a drama.” Lereia clearly had little desire to play her part and rolled her eyes. “But if it makes you happy.” She turned back and waited, visibly annoyed.

Sgillin, on the other hand, bowed to Kiyoshi, exaggeratedly low. “Please, go ahead and control our fate.”

Naghûl sighed as Kiyoshi nodded contentedly and headed for the exit. He hoped his companions would get a grip on themselves, otherwise their mission here would become even more difficult than it already was. For his part, he tried to calm the anger still simmering inside him over the incident with the night hag and gave Lereia an encouraging look as he left.

She immediately understood that he was referring to her uncharacteristic testiness. “I'm sorry,” she said quietly. “After one night here, I feel something ... tugging at me. Something primal and wild ... Not strong enough to threaten my control, but a feeling I thought I had overcome long ago.”

Naghûl nodded sympathetically. Lereia had defeated the curse years ago and had control over her transformation. But here she was in a place that challenged that control, quietly but persistently shaking it, gnawing at it. It was understandable that she reacted irritably. As they entered the inner courtyard of the fortress, they were immediately enveloped in a cacophony of mostly unwelcome sights, sounds and smells. Crowds of visitors of all kinds were already jostling in the packed courtyard, haggling loudly over exotic goods. The noise of Abyssal and Common, but also other languages filled the air, interrupted by the occasional screech of an otherworldly beast. They passed a stall displaying writhing tentacles in jars, while a black-scaled kobold approached them from the side and offered them “guaranteed authentic” maps of the Abyss. On a nearby podium, a group of chained slaves was being auctioned off to the highest bidder, and not far away, a circle had formed around two tieflings who were dueling while the spectators cheered and placed bets.

As they moved through the bustling market, unsure of where to turn, a strange and disturbing sight met their eyes. A short distance from the stalls was a circular shaft in the ground, about three paces in diameter. The edges of the hole were lined with jagged stones that seemed to absorb the light around them. A sickly green mist rose from the depths, and there were clearly patches of blood around the edge of the pit. Next to this ominous well stood a rutterkin, a lesser demon whose twisted, asymmetrical body was covered in pustules and wounds.

As Naghûl slowly approached the shaft, Jana held him by the sleeve. “Um, is this necessary?” she asked, looking at the blood on the ground.

As the group approached, the rutterkin turned his attention to them, his lipless mouth contorting into an unpleasant smile. “Sacrifice?” he croaked, pointing towards the pit with a gnarled hand. His voice sounded like crushed gravel. “Abyss always hungry.”

The implication hung heavy in the air, and the demon eyed the group as if assessing which of them could provide a suitable sacrifice.

Naghûl looked down into the shaft and couldn't help thinking of the night hag. “Maybe later,” he replied, turning away.

As they moved away from the pit, he felt the rutterkin's gaze following them. The ominous shaft remained behind them, a silent testimony to the dark sacrifices that fed the power of this hellish realm.

As they continued walking, Sgillin nudged Jana. “I think you were right ...” he said conspiratorially. “That mane over there was watching us suspiciously when we were standing together for so long ...”

The sorceress, however, did not react in any way to the half-elf's mockery, but stared past Naghûl at a slave standing in a dirty pillory, being tormented by a dretch with a spiky stick.

Sgillin followed her gaze, but seemed more interested in the wall behind the pitiful man. “Look.” He nodded toward an iron-bound door nearby. “The symbol over there ... a skull in front of a sun. That's the sign of my contact here in Broken Reach. And there are no guards.”

“If there are no guards there, we could go in,” Lereia suggested. “The kelvezu at the gate yesterday said that if you're not allowed to go somewhere, there are guards there, right?”

“Exactly.” Naghûl nodded. “Let's take a look. If we find an ally there, he might be able to help us find a way into the catacombs.”

As they slipped through the unguarded door, they found themselves in a dimly lit corridor. The walls were made of dark, rough-hewn stones, occasionally streaked with pulsating red lines, and the air was heavy with the smell of sulfur and hot metal. The hallway stretched several dozen paces in length and then turned to the left. They saw three doors: a massive iron door covered with intricate rune engravings, a smaller door made of reddish wood, and a third that appeared to be made of tanned demon skin stretched tightly over a frame of bones. All were closed, but at the end of the corridor, an open archway led into a room that appeared to be a forge. However, there were no workers present at the moment, so they dared to take a peek inside. They saw anvils shaped like demonic faces, a cooling tank filled with a bubbling black liquid that occasionally sprayed sparks, shelves with bizarre tools, many of which seemed more suited for torture than metalwork, and unfinished weapons and armor, scattered around. Naghûl could sense a latent magical aura emanating from some of them. In the large forge that dominated the center of the room, the fire had burned down, but an otherworldly purple flame still glowed.

“It's strangely quiet here,” Lereia remarked as she looked around alertly. Her nostrils quivered slightly, as if she were trying to smell something even in her human form.

Kiyoshi checked the embers in the forge. “No one has worked here for about an hour,” he explained. “If the workers are taking a break, they'll probably be back soon.”

As tempting as it was to search the currently empty forge for interesting items, they decided against it. It was more important to find a way into the catacombs, and they wanted to avoid any unnecessary trouble or unwanted attention. So they left the forge and followed the hallway that led them to a staircase. At the top, they spotted two more doors on a small landing. The first appeared to be made of blackened steel, decorated with a metal demon face. The second was lower, made of dark, polished wood with elaborate brass fittings. At Naghûl's chest height was a small hatch, and faint, muffled noises could be heard from inside. Next to the hatch, this time smaller and less conspicuous, the symbol of the skull in front of a sun was etched into the wood. The Sensate stepped aside and beckoned Sgillin to approach the door alone. The others also took a step back. After the half-elf knocked, it took a while, then the hatch in the door was opened and a rough voice snorted dismissively.

“Well, how charming. And who are you?”

Sgillin pulled back his hood. “Someone who knows your symbol.”

“Is that so?” The tone of the man behind the door did not sound any friendlier. “Well, a few people know it. Not too many, but a few. Who sent you?”

“A mutual acquaintance from Sigil,” the half-elf replied politely.

“I know several people in the Cage,” the stranger behind the hatch countered.

Sgillin hesitated briefly, but then seemed to remember that he had already revealed the name of his cell leader to the others in Elysium. “Krystall,” he replied.

“Krystall. I see.” The other man let out a dry chuckle that sounded like a lizard's belly scraping against a stone. “All right. You have the sign with you and can show it to me, right?”

Sgillin nodded and pulled out the Anarchist amulet from under his shirt to show it to the man behind the door. However, he kept the chain around his neck. The other man tugged at it, probably to indicate to the half-elf that he should bend down a little. After Sgillin did so, there was silence for a few seconds while the contact man apparently studied the amulet. Then he let it go.

“Yes, it's real.”

Sgillin nodded. “Then you're Mokk, I presume?”

“Not my real name, of course,” replied the other. “But it's the name I chose for our meeting. And you're Sgillin, the one Krystall said might show up here.”

“That's me,” confirmed the half-elf. Then he looked to the side for the first time. “There are a few friends of mine over there.”

The voice behind the door growled unhappily. “Do you trust them? All of them? I mean, the Revolutionary League isn't exactly a happy party where anyone can just drop in as they please.”

“Yes, you're right,” Sgillin admitted. “But they don't know your real name, and their factions have no business here in Broken Reach. And you can trust me.”

Mokk snorted. “That's easy to say. But at least you have the sign.” There was silence again for a moment, then the hatch was closed, but the latch behind the door was pushed back. “All right, come in.”

 

 

Sgillin nodded to the others before stepping through the door, and the small group followed him. When they entered, Naghûl immediately recognized their host as an older dwarf with infernal heritage. He had the typical size and stature of a dwarf, long white hair and a beard braided into five thick plaits, but also pointed ears, claw-like hands and glowing yellow eyes. He was surrounded by a faint magical aura. Naghûl suspected that he had altered his features with a simple illusion spell as a precaution to protect himself from recognition. With a mixture of curiosity and caution, he watched the group as he beckoned them closer. Naghûl quickly glanced around the Anarchist's dwelling. The main room was round, and on one side several shelves were built into the walls, filled with books, strange artifacts and jars with unidentifiable substances. A large workbench dominated the other side of the room, covered with half-finished mechanical devices. Above it, tools of both dwarven and hellish design hung on the wall. In the center of the room was a sunken fire pit where dancing flames blazed in purple, green and blue. Around it stood four chairs that appeared to be covered in demon skin. Opposite the entrance door, a narrow archway led to an area that looked like a small kitchen. Something was simmering in a cauldron, filling the air with a strange aroma. Among the objects in the main room, Naghûl mainly noticed a battle axe mounted on the wall and decorated with dwarven runes, as well as a collection of exquisite gemstones in a glass display case.

The man who called himself Mokk nodded and pointed to the fire pit. “Sorry, I don't have enough chairs. I'm not used to having so many visitors.”

Sgillin waved it off. “I'll stand.”

Kiyoshi also took up a standing position at the edge of the fire pit, while Lereia, Jana and Naghûl sat down on the chairs. The dwarf took a seat as well.

“Do you know anything about the catacombs underneath Broken Reach?” Sgillin got straight to the point.

Mokk scrutinized him. “Maybe.”

“And do you know how I can get in there without having to pass Red Shroud's guards?”

“What do you want in there, huh?” The dwarf now showed two long, needle-sharp fangs as he spoke.

Sgillin just grinned briefly. “I'm looking for something.”

Mokk wrinkled his nose and made a brief gesture to indicate that it wasn't his problem if the half-elf and his berk friends put their lives in danger. “Well, if you really want to go down there ... Getting in isn't so much the problem. Getting out again is.”

“Let's start with getting in,” Sgillin replied calmly. “How and where do we get in?”

“There's an entrance in the inner halls,” the dwarven tiefling explained. “Not everyone has access there. But I could certainly arrange something.”

Sgillin nodded contentedly. “That sounds good. And why is getting out so difficult?”

Mokk's yellow eyes seemed to glow. “Lady Red doesn't like it when people snoop around down there. The old corridors are guarded.”

Naghûl sighed to himself. It had been clear that searching for a legendary sword here in Broken Reach would not be easy. But since Mokk was Sgillin's contact and the half-elf was conducting the conversation very successfully so far, the Sensate leaned back for the time being and did not interfere.

Meanwhile, Sgillin furrowed his brow and seemed to be thinking. “And how well are the passages guarded?”

Mokk laughed harshly. “I've never been down there. But I assume very well. That's all I can tell you.”

“Well, yeah.” The half-elf sighed. “It would be boring if it were any different.”

The dwarf twirled his beard, seemed to think for a moment, then nodded. “Hmm ... I should probably tell you that you're not the first person interested in the catacombs of Broken Reach at the moment.”

Sgillin raised his eyebrows. “Really? Who else is interested?”

“There were two other groups,” Mokk explained. “They didn't talk to me, but I heard them asking around at the market. Strange coincidence, huh?” He didn't sound as if he actually believed it was a coincidence.

“Indeed ... very strange,” the half-elf said. “Do you know anything about these groups? Who they are or anything? Do you know if they made it down there yet?”

The dwarven tiefling shrugged. “No idea if they found a way down yet.”

Now Naghûl joined the conversation for the first time. “And do you know more details about those people?” he asked, after Mokk had ignored the question.

“Like I said, they visited the market,” the Anarchist replied grumpily. “I only caught a glimpse of them as I was passing by. One group had four or five members. They were hooded, but the woman who spoke was very tall and broad. The other group ... well, there were more of them, about eight. I think two were tieflings and one was a gith. But I don't remember exactly.“

”Eight?“ Lereia frowned, a little concerned. ”Was that a while ago?”

Mokk shook his head. “No, I saw them both the day before yesterday.”

“Then they might already be down there,” the young woman murmured. “Or even out again ...”

“Back to getting out of the catacombs,” Sgillin interrupted these musings. “Do we have to leave the tunnels the same way we enter them?”

“No idea, boy,” the dwarf grumbled. “If you find another exit: no. Otherwise, yes.”

“We will get out again,” Naghûl said, trying to sound confident so as not to discourage the others. “What's the price for this favor?”

“I'll sort that out with him.” Mokk nodded to Sgillin and then looked inquiringly from one to the other. Finally, he sighed. “Come on. You're all looking for that damn sword. You and the others too. Isn't that right?”

Naghûl felt a rush of heat shoot through him at these words, and he immediately tensed, but he tried not to let it show.

Lereia, on the other hand, couldn't hide her surprise. “What makes you think that?” she asked the dwarf.

“There have been rumors in Broken Reach for a long time,” Mokk explained. “That deep inside the catacombs lies a powerful treasure. A few say it's the skull of a necromancer or a lich. But most say it's a sword. I don't know if it exists. But I wouldn't be surprised if someone wanted to find it someday.”

“How concrete are the rumors?” Sgillin asked cautiously.

The Anarchist laughed raucously. “As concrete as rumors can be. Well, there's definitely a grain of truth in there, that there's something valuable underneath the fortress. But what? No idea. Maybe it really is a sword. Maybe it's something else entirely.”

Lereia frowned. “Red Shroud never thought of searching for a supposed powerful treasure herself?”

“I don't know,” Mokk said with a grin. “Maybe she even found it long ago.”

The were tigress nodded thoughtfully, and Naghûl could clearly sense unease spreading through the group. Kiyoshi's expression became even more stony than usual. Despite his lack of facial expression, the Sensate had learned to interpret this as a sign of tension. Jana wrapped both arms around herself as if she were shivering, even though it was very warm in Mokk's dwelling.

“Anyway,” Sgillin said resolutely. “How are we going to do this? How can you get us in?”

“We'll meet tomorrow at the market,” the dwarf explained. “There's a snack stand with a cute vendor. Pink hair with black streaks. She's a bit skinny on top, but she's got a nice butt.”

The half-elf grinned. “Yeah, I noticed her.”

“Very good.” Mokk laughed briefly, but then became serious again. “So ... you really want to get down there, huh?”

“Yes, we do,” Sgillin replied firmly.

“Well, you may know what you're doing.” The old dwarf shrugged. “Then we'll meet at the market tomorrow morning.”

The half-elf nodded. “What will you get for your help?”

“Give me a valuable gemstone or a valuable alchemical ingredient tomorrow,” Mokk replied.

“Deal,” Sgillin said. “See you tomorrow, then.”

Naghûl stood up. “Very well. Thank you in advance, Mr. ... Helper.”

“Mr. Helper.” The Anarchist snorted with amusement. “That was a good one.”

The Sensate grinned briefly. “Take care and see you tomorrow.”

“You take care,” Mokk replied gruffly.

The two women also rose, and the group left the dwarf's dwelling. As they descended the stairs, they could hear that work had been resumed in the smithy. However, they decided not to visit it, but instead returned to the courtyard.

“That didn't work too badly,” Naghûl remarked, nodding to Sgillin approvingly. “Let's stop by the mithral dealer we spoke to yesterday.”

The others nodded and they tried to navigate their way through the maze of stalls and booths to find the cambion again. They passed a duergar merchant selling quasits and Abyssal vermin as pets and an old human woman offering fortune-telling paraphernalia, which appeared to consist of tanar'ri bones and other demonic body parts. At one point, a winged eye flitted back and forth above them, presumably to deliver a message or monitor the events below. On their second day here, Naghûl realized that despite the omnipresent chaos, there was a certain structure to the madness. Armed guards patrolled the edge of the courtyard, constantly on the lookout for trouble. The mistress of the fortress clearly wanted to ensure that trade flourished here relatively undisturbed, as it was the basis of Broken Reach's wealth - and thus her power.

As the Sensate let his gaze wander over the twisted towers that rose into the cloudy sky, he paused. High above, on one of the balconies, he saw a figure shrouded in red silk. The fabric moved slowly in the warm wind, the woman's long black hair flowing over her shoulders, and then two leathery wings unfolded behind her back. She looked down majestically at the scene below her, radiating an aura of power and authority. Was that Red Shroud? It was quite possible, but before Naghûl could get a closer look, she turned away and returned to the interior of the fortress. In response to Jana's questioning glance, the tiefling waved it off, and they continued on their way. Finally, they reached the purple tent of the weapons dealer and spotted the cambion behind one of the sales tables.

He nodded to them. “Ah, it's you again.”

“That's right,” Naghûl replied. “How about our deal? We have our goods with us.”

The merchant grinned broadly. “Well, what can I say? It was really anything but easy, but I actually managed to get you a bar of black mithral.”

Impressed, Naghûl raised his eyebrows. He had expected a contact at best, not to actually get any of the coveted, rare metal.

Kiyoshi stepped closer to the table, clearly interested. “May I see the ingot?”

“But looking only,” the cambion warned jokingly, then pulled a small box out from under the table and opened it. He removed a piece of dark cloth and showed the group a bar, about a foot long, three fingers thick, and pitch-black ... there was something strange about it that smacked of looming doom. It wasn't a large amount of metal, but given the value of black mithral, it was quite a considerable trade.

Kiyoshi played his part well, remaining stoic and merely shaking his head. “It'll have to do,” he said.

“Believe me, you won't get any more at the moment,” the merchant assured him. “It's very scarce right now.”

“Really?” Kiyoshi eyed him closely. “Are the mines running short?”

The cambion shook his head. “No, don't worry. But most of it is currently being sold by Lady Red to important trading partners. There's almost nothing left for free trade.”

“Next time,” Naghûl said. “So, the deal is still up?”

The merchant closed the box again. “The three beautiful swords? I'll trade this ingot for them.”

The offer surprised Naghûl. Sure, the three blades were very high quality and worth a large sum. But an ingot of black mithral of this size had an even higher value. The tiefling therefore assumed that the ingot was impure and not made of pure black mithral. However, even Kiyoshi, who was well versed in blacksmithing, did not know enough about the rare metal to be able to tell at first glance. Besides, this was just a cover; they were not really in need of high-quality black mithral. Kiyoshi therefore just nodded and took out the three blades he had offered the day before. The merchant collected the swords and handed the young soldier the box containing the mithral ingot. They thanked him for the trade and then moved away from the tent.

Lereia glanced towards the wing with the accommodations. “I'd say we don't go exploring any further until we meet Mokk tomorrow. Until then, we should lie low. Maybe there's something to do here to pass the time?”

“Mane fights,” Kiyoshi said dryly.

The young woman nodded and sighed in resignation. “We could just have a drink in the suite and go to bed early.”

“A drink sounds good,” Jana agreed. “The air here is the worst, don't you think?”

“I can't decide what the worst thing is,” Naghûl replied. “But a drink sounds good, yes.”

From somewhere, a tortured scream rang out as if someone were in great pain, then a raucous laugh ... then it was over.

“Yes ...” Lereia glanced unhappily in the direction of the horrifying sounds. “Let's retreat and wait until we meet Mokk tomorrow.”

 

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played February 1st, 2013