The air in Oscar Yoren's basement hung heavy with the putrid scent of foul incense, a lingering unease clung to the walls. As the party readied themselves to depart, a low, guttural voice echoed through the open doorway, sending shivers down their spines.
"I am He Who Laughs Last," the voice boomed, "I have arrived!" The chilling cadence sent a tremor through Nix. He paled, his goat-like features contorting in a mixture of fear and disbelief.
Eli's hand instinctively reaching for the axe, growled, "What in the Nine Hells was that?"
Laika, ever the pragmatist (or at least, as pragmatic as a fifteen-year-old with a penchant for dramatic sighs could be), scoffed, "Probably just some old man rambling. Oscar's getting on in years, you know."
Slick, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint, leaned closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, "Orcus? Now that's a name with a certain ring to it. Sounds like trouble, wouldn't you say?"
Cokolkhan, mid-chew on something that vaguely resembled a particularly unfortunate-looking rodent, mumbled around a mouthful of fur, "Trouble? Trouble's my middle name. Besides, a little chaos never hurt anyone." He then proceeded to swallow with a disturbingly loud gulp.
Nix, however, remained frozen, his gaze fixed on the closed study door. "That… that was Orcus. He wouldn't… he couldn't…" His voice trailed off, fear giving way to a chilling certainty. "He's back."
Eli's grip on his axe tightened as he resolutely marched out of the oppressive basement and into the Drakkenheim gloom. It has been many weeks since they had a proper rest, and perhaps this was getting on their nerves.
The tension that had gripped them began to dissipate as they put some distance between themselves and the unsettling demonic voice. The Doom Slingers, though still pale, seemed to be recovering from the initial shock.
Suddenly, a thud broke the tranquility. An arrow, feathered with obsidian and tipped with a wickedly barbed head, landed at Eli's feet. Attached to the shaft was a small, intricately folded piece of parchment. Eli, his brow furrowed, carefully retrieved the message and unfolded it.
The message was short and to the point, written in an elegant but chilling script:
“The seal, imbecile. Or face my wrath. I am losing patience quickly.”
The Doom Slingers exchanged nervous glances.
"Well, that's… direct," Slick commented, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Who does this 'Queen of Thieves' character think she is, anyway?"
Laika, her humming abruptly ceasing, scowled. "And what exactly is she talking about? What 'Seal of the Lord Commander'?"
Eli, his face grim, held up Badge, "It's one of the six seals of Drakkenheim, powerful artifacts. This is the badge... Big trouble... small package," he winked at the short halfling and they chuckled together.
Cokolkhan, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly spoke, his voice low and gravelly. "Perhaps… perhaps this 'Queen' knows more about the… the seals than we do." He gestured vaguely at Eli, a feral glint in his eyes a stark contrast to his usual jovial demeanor. "But I hope we don't meet her anytime soon."
"Yes," said Eli, "But there is an order we must follow. We need to get proof of my inheritance from Sara, punish Ansom and the others oath breakers and then restore the throne."
CokolKhan shrugged, a disturbingly animalistic sound escaping his lips. "Let us hope she follows our plan."
The Doom Slingers marched on and eventually came upon the rhythmic skittering of countless tiny paws scraping at wood and perhaps a the corpse of a horse, a cacophony that sent shivers down Laika's spine. "Ratlings," she muttered, wrinkling her nose. "Lovely."
Eli, however, saw an opportunity. "Perhaps these creatures can help us," he said, his voice low and commanding. "We need to get into the inner city, and I've heard the Rat Prince has tunnels that run beneath the walls."
Slick stepped forward, a charming grin plastered on his face. "Greetings, esteemed rodent royalty!" he announced, his voice dripping with exaggerated respect. "My name is Slick, and I believe we have a proposition for you." As he approached he handed them rations.
The two ratling lieutenants, creatures of surprising intelligence with beady black eyes and long, twitching whiskers, regarded Slick with suspicion. One, larger than the other, let out a series of high-pitched squeaks, his voice a torrent of rapid-fire clicks and whistles.... and a voice that seemed to say:
"Go on?"
Slick, undeterred, continued his spiel. "We understand that you have extensive knowledge of the city's underbelly, and we require your assistance in navigating these treacherous burrows. In return," he paused, "we offer you this… token of our appreciation."
The larger lieutenant, after a moment of intense deliberation, reached out a clawed paw and snatched the food. He examined it closely, before consuming it.
"Entrance to the city… through the sewers," he squeaked, his voice surprisingly clear despite the rapid-fire delivery. "But… first, eat, eat, eat." He gestured towards the corpse of a horse and as if on command the ratlings descended on the equine feast.
But as they did, a creature emerged, Spider-like, but dripping with acid, teeth, claws and chitinous legs propelling its form away from the Ratling into the midst of the party.
So surprised were they, that the creature known as the Bojack was Slick and Laika with only the ranger able to fling her boomerang and fire a crossbow before it began spitting acid.
In the confusion that followed, it spat and hit both Eli and Coko leaving a horridly burning spittle dripping down their front and sides.
As Eli attempted to strike the creature emitted a strange force-field, a shimmering protective field that stopped all attacks. This left them momentarily confused as did the sudden attacks from behind by the Ratlings who, as a pack backstabbed Slick and Laika.
Slick faired okay, but Laika was swarmed and took more than one critical blow (41 HP) scaling her confidence.... But as quickly as the little buggers engaged them, they disengaged scurrying away.
Slick kept his attention on the Bojack and summoned an illusionary wall to separate the party of the creature, and this slowed down the barely sentient creature to attempted to climb the wall for a few critical seconds. This bought time for the rest.
Cokolkhan ignored the acid searing his flesh and invoked a chthonian sigil, lines glowing in the air and forming into massive cube. The Bojack and two lieutenants stood dumbfounded and unable to move.
Nix, paused, watching the now immobile Bojack, and took a deep draught of water before spitting it into the air. A rime of frost settled over his Tiefling form, a layer of dangerous armor. And in that moment, a horde of ratling descended on Nix, but as they stabbed they found the damage reflected back and they all froze solid, dead.
Eli backed away from the now contained Bojack and cleared his eyes as he marched with angry intent toward the treacherous rat creatures and Nix used his magic to pull the acid from Coko's body... Nix did not want anything breaking Cokolkhan's concentration.
It was in that moment that Slick ended the combat with a decisive blow. The Bojack, unable to protect itself took his rapier up to the hilt and died in a convulsive gasp. The ratlings, previously under an enchantment cowered from Eli as he approached and they
Before long, Slick negotiated a proper deal with the remaining 'lings and they found themselves back in Emberwood Village, a place that had once offered a semblance of safety. Now, however, the familiar sights seemed to hold a sinister undercurrent.
Crudely drawn sketches of each of them adorned hastily made posters plastered on every wall and tree. A chilling inscription accompanied each image: "Wanted: Alive." Eli's poster, however, stood out. Beneath his likeness, a hefty reward was offered: 3,000 gold pieces.

Laika scoffed, "300 gold pieces? For me? Why is Eli worth 3000. that's nearly 10 times mine?"
Eli, however, felt a cold dread creeping into his bones. 3,000 gold pieces was a significant sum, enough to incite even the most hardened mercenaries. It was clear that their actions in Drakkenheim had not gone unnoticed.
Nix, his eyes narrowed, studied the posters with a grim expression. He reached into his bag of tricks and pulled out a small, obsidian dagger. With a swift, practiced motion, he began to meticulously alter the posters, his magic weaving into the crude sketches, distorting their features beyond recognition.
"Dusk Wardens?" he muttered, his voice laced with disdain. "Such an amateurish name." With a flourish of his hand, he infused the posters with his magic, the crudely drawn figures morphing and twisting, their faces becoming grotesque caricatures. The changes were subtle, yet profound. He had bought them a little more time in town without being recognized.
The rest of the party gathered rumors. Cokolkhan, transformed into a rat and learned that the Amethyst Academy was angry with the party for the long delay. At the Bark and Buzzard, they learned that Petra was no longer at Shepherd's Gate but instead holed up at the Emberwood Watchtower with 100 men... The remaining 300 oathbreakers still remained at the Shepherd's Gate. And Sara was at Camp Dawn with the Knights of the Silver Order.
The party visited them all.
To the academy, they discharged their duty, delivering the recipe for Aqua Expurgo and notes of demonic summoning along with the name Orcus. They seemed unsettled that demons were arriving, but Eli reminded that, while they said they "might" need Oscar's decapitated head, they most certainly did not require it. - The Doom Slingers did not receive payment for this service and both parties were dissatisfied.
The Watchtower, a hulking edifice of grey stone, stood solidly in the huddled village of Emberwood like a brooding sentinel. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of woodsmoke and the nervous energy of a hundred men and women. They were the Lanterns, a proud band, their faces obscured by the shadows cast by their hooded cloaks. They seemed nervous and unsure because of the schism in their organization with Ansom Lang holding the Shepherd's Gate. But they were the oath keepers and they followed Petra Lang.
Petra, a young ranger with eyes that held the hard gained wisdom and the fire of rebellion, stood before Eli. Her gaze, though wary, held a flicker of hope.
Eli confirmed their oaths, meeting all of them that day. His voice resonating with a newfound authority, stepped forward. He raised his hand, the moonlight glinting off the silver of his sword. "I swear to you, by the ancient blood of my ancestors, that I am Eli, true heir to the throne of Drakkenheim. I will reclaim my birthright and bring justice to this land."
He paused, allowing his words to sink in. Then, his voice softening, he added, "But I will not rule alone. I will serve you as fiercely as I expect you to serve me. We will fight for freedom, for justice, for a Drakkenheim where the people are not slaves to fear."
The Lanterns, stirred by his words, began to murmur amongst themselves. Petra, watching Eli, saw a flicker of something genuine in his eyes – a determination that transcended ambition, a desire to truly serve his people.
One by one, the Lanterns stepped forward, their voices echoing through the Garrison. "We swear allegiance to Eli, true heir to the throne!" they chanted, their voices rising in a powerful chorus. "We will fight for freedom! We will fight for justice! We will fight for Drakkenheim!"
As the oath echoed through the Garrison, Eli felt a sense of purpose suffuse him, but also some self doubt. This was an impossible oath to keep... and yet it was his.
The air crackled with anticipation as the Doom Slingers, approached Camp Dawn. Situated on a hill, it was a fortress of timber, a testament to the Knights of the Silver Order's dedication to their cause, for much of this construction was clearly transported from miles away.
Within the walls, they met Sarah, a woman of quiet strength with sympathetic eyes and she at once saw the change in Eli. She presented Eli with a small, leather-bound box. Inside, he found irrefutable proof of his lineage: a faded marriage certificate bearing the seals of his parents, his own birth certificate, and a small vial containing a sample of blood.
"These, your lordship are yours," she spoke, "may they serve you well as you work to restore order to these lands."
Later, they were summoned to the presence of Theodore Marshal, the leader of the Silver Orderr. A man of imposing stature, Marshal was every inch the warrior he was born to be Athletic and bronzed, his eyes holding a steely resolve.
"The seals of Drakkenheim," Marshal declared, his voice booming through the fort, "are the key to eradicating this blight. We will find them, and we will use their power to cleanse this land of the Delirium."
Eli, however, felt a pang of unease. "But at what cost, Marshal? What will become of Drakkenheim itself?"
Marshal's expression hardened. "The destruction will be absolute, Eli. The land will be purified, but it will be a rebirth. A new Drakkenheim will rise from the ashes, stronger, purer."
He paused, his gaze fixed on Eli. "But you must understand. Drakkenheim will be uninhabitable. You will need to find another place to rebuild, a place where your people can find refuge until the land heals."
What Eli thought in that moment is a mystery, but the leader of the Silver Order saw promise and resignation. The Delirium was a threat that could consume the entire land, and drastic measures might be necessary.
There we paused.... With the intention of meeting the Rat Prince and parlaying passage into Inner Drakkenheim, then discovering the mysteries of the Cosmological Clocktower, a place said to hold the key to resting within the inner city.