The Cassalanter estate was ablaze with light and laughter when the party arrived. Strings of lanterns lined the garden paths, and servants in crimson livery moved through the crowd with silver trays and forced smiles. The invitation had been clear—“Feast, drink, and stay until the strike of midnight for a grand display.” Yet beneath the music and chatter, an unease stirred. The Cassalanters’ charity had never been so generous.
Outside the Walls
Among the common guests outside, the air was thick with the aroma of roasted meats and spiced wine. The Lord and Lady Cassalanter greeted the crowd with immaculate grace, encouraging everyone to eat their fill. The party obliged—though unease flickered in their minds. Skalmöld’s instincts proved right. Later that night, they would discover that the food had been laced with Midnight Tears, a slow-acting poison that kills at the stroke of midnight.
For now, however, they blended in—smiling, laughing, and plotting their next move. Skalmöld slipped away, donning the armor of a Cassalanter guard. The others downed invisibility potions, their forms shimmering and fading from sight. Together, they crossed the threshold into the manor proper, unseen by mortal eyes.
Inside the Manor
The air within was still and perfumed, the noise of the party outside muffled behind gilded doors. The group’s exploration led them up winding staircases and through silent halls lined with portraits that watched their every step. In a hidden attic chamber, they uncovered something truly dreadful—a locked room protected by a magical barrier of silence. Within, they found what remained of Osvaldo Cassalanter, the family’s long-lost son, now twisted into a Lemure, a grotesque lower devil of shapeless flesh and suffering.
He recognized them dimly through the corruption, weeping tar-like tears, unable to speak. The silence ward shimmered like a cruel mercy, muting his agonized screams. They left him behind, promising vengeance instead of comfort.
The Poisoner’s Hand
Further searching led them to another attic chamber—a cramped alchemical workshop. Glass flasks, pestles, and drying herbs cluttered the tables. Amid the chaos sat a single sealed vial labeled Midnight Tears. The realization struck hard: the feast outside was a trap. Dozens of innocent guests, even children, would die at the strike of midnight unless they could end whatever infernal ritual was already in motion.
The Descent
Following the stench of brimstone and chanting, they descended into the subterranean chapel beneath the villa. What they found froze their blood. A vast congregation of cultists stood before a burning brazier, its flames the color of molten gold. The Cassalanters led the ceremony, their hands outstretched as the vault treasure was poured into the fire, molten gold spilling like sacrificial blood.
Azerty’s Rescue
In the shadows, they found Azerty imprisoned in a cell—bruised but alive. She confessed through trembling breath that she had once worked for the Cassalanters, crafting infernal devices, but when she tried to flee, they had locked her away to silence her. Another prisoner, she said, had been taken only minutes earlier—the arena champion, known to all as the Chain Devil, and to Skalmöld as her father.
The Infernal Pact Revealed
The truth emerged amid the chaos: sixteen years prior, the Cassalanters had made a deal with a devil who demanded their son Osvaldo’s soul in exchange for wealth and influence. To reclaim him, they were required to pay in gold and souls on this day after sixteen years, if necessary. Tonight’s feast, the poisoned guests, even the dragon’s treasure—it was all part of the bargain.
The Battle Beneath the Villa
If it isn't our esteemed guests! I'm surprised to managed to get out of there alive! Have you been enjoying the festivities?
I humbly thank you for coming all the way down here just to sacrifice your souls unto us!
The confrontation was inevitable. The party stormed the chapel, blades drawn and spells blazing. Imps cackled from the balconies, raining fire upon them. Cultists chanted through the flames as Victoro and his infernal statue of The Lord of Lies unleashed waves of magic from within a burning barrier.
No one accepted the Lord Of Lies' infernal offer of a contract. Every fiery beam the statue fired was aimed at defiance.
Then came the sound—a metallic shriek, chains dragging across stone. The Chain Devil entered, his infernal device whirring and sparking. Skalmöld froze, her heart splitting between rage and despair. The creature wielded a weapon unlike any they had seen—an infernal engine strapped to his waist, capable of manifesting weapons forged in Avernus itself.
The Final Stand
The fight raged in fire and ruin. Cultists fell like wheat before the storm, but Victoro’s power only grew, the statue feeding him infernal energy. When the party could fight no longer, burned, bloodied, and broken on the floor, Victoro raised a blazing fireball to finish them.
HAHAHA, did any of you ever truly believe you could stop me?
I would do anything to protect my children from that damned devil's contract.
Your lives and all the others' are worth nothing compared to theirs. I would plunge this entire city into the depths of hell in order to protect them...
To make sure they get to live a life of no worries and happiness, as they deserve!
Then came the engine’s scream.
The Chain Devil—Skalmöld’s father—rose from the smoke, his magitech holster spinning and glowing until the metal began to tear apart. With one final surge, he drew forth a blade of pure light and gold, too holy for the infernal machine to contain. The device shattered from the effort, fragments scattering like shooting stars.
Skalmold's father utters the following:
You took away my freedom, forced me to fight, to kill countless innocent men.
You took me away from my family, forced me to miss seeing my beloved daughter grow into the fine woman she is today.
You took away her mother, my soulmate.
All of this to get back the souls of your children, the ones you sold away in the first place?!
You said you would do anything to protect your children, well so would I.
He hurled the weapon through the air. It pierced the crack in the Asmodeus statue the party had created earlier, igniting Victoro’s fireball mid-cast. The explosion shattered the statue and brought the ceiling down upon Victoro Cassalanter himself.
Judgment Before the Raven Queen
When the flames faded, Victoro’s body, having lost an arm, fell still, his soul drawn into the shadow of the Raven Queen’s domain. There, Skalmöld and her father stood before her throne, joined by the spirit of Skalmöld’s mother. The goddess offered a cruel mercy—the choice of Victoro’s punishment.
Skalmöld refused, her voice breaking. “This choice is not mine,” she said, turning to Tinnitus. With grim resolve, he chose to see Victoro’s soul destroyed.
The Raven Queen, however, intervened. She proposed another path: Victoro’s soul would be split into countless fragments, each fulfilling the Cassalanters’ infernal contract in place of the innocent lives it demanded. In doing so, the souls of the Cassalanter children—and Tinnitus himself—would be spared.
The Aftermath
When they returned to the mortal realm, the fires in the Cassalanter chapel had burned low. Victoro’s body, broken but not at peace, began to stir with something unholy. The story was not yet over—the cost of victory still demanded its due.