"Now, I know what you're thinking," I said laying on the charm thickly. "What's in it for me? Besides the obvious benefits of having a powerful, if somewhat capricious, patron on your side? Well, there's the… potential for enhanced arcane abilities. A certain je ne sais quoi that comes with dabbling in the darker arts. And, frankly, our monthly potlucks are surprisingly good. We had rat-loaf last week. You missed out."

The young Lantern seemed to intently study me, nodding and then his eyes lit up, and a subtle grin crossed his face. For only a blink of the eye, his face shimmered, seeming to take on the visage of a masked woman. That woman winked at you and nodded her head before the shimmering faded. The lantern, looking bewildered, shook his head and walked away from you in a daze.

***

The stale, recycled air of Oscar Yoren's new lab hung heavy, thick with the scent of arcane reagents and something vaguely… biological. I tried not to wrinkle my nose, focusing instead on the faint, almost shimmering light haze that sustained him. He'd looked better, I thought, noticing the slight pallor beneath his usually vibrant complexion. He couldn't leave this place, not now, but he looked better.

"Nix, my friend, come in, come in!" Oscar’s voice boomed, his usual reserved demeanor replaced by a bombastic, bragging mode that I'd only ever seen when he was truly excited, or perhaps… stressed. He gestured grandly around the confined space, a chaotic mess of bubbling beakers and esoteric (and vaguely demonic) diagrams.

"Oscar, it's good to see you," I replied, trying to sound genuinely enthusiastic, despite the knot forming in my stomach. Morrigan's subtle whispers had grown louder recently, hinting at discord, but I'd never imagined it might involve Oscar directly.

He leaned in conspiratorially, his eyes wide. "You know, the deeper I delve, the more I understand… and trade-off is worth it." He paused, then puffed out his chest. "I am, in fact, sworn to He who laughs last." My mind immediately went to the hushed tales from the elves – a greater demon of unspeakable power known as Orcus. A chill snaked down my spine. This was it then. This was the entity Morrigan had warned me about. Oscar continued, oblivious, "I sold my soul for arcane knowledge, long ago. Believed I had ages, centuries even, before I'd pay my debt. But he demands more now. Always more." He shivered, a fleeting moment of vulnerability.

"It sounds like a heavy burden, my friend," I offered, trying to keep my voice even. The knowledge of the centuries-long, mortal enmity between Orcus and Morrigan weighed heavily on me, a secret I couldn't, wouldn't, share.

He gripped my arm, and I felt his desperate urgency. "Nix, you must protect me from the Academy. They seek my secrets and my life. I do not wish to meet my patron in person so soon." His eyes darted nervously to the sealed door. "I serve two masters now, it seems. Him, and the Hooded Lanterns." He nodded towards a corner of the lab where a subtle symbol of the Lanterns was etched into the wall. "They shelter me, in return for… simple potions, mostly. It is a small thing I give in exchange for my ongoing research."

"Research?" I prompted, eager to steer the conversation away from his terrifying patron.

His eyes lit up, the manic energy returning. "Yes! The deeper secrets of contamination! My ultimate goal, Nix, is to restore those poor souls to their former selves!"

My ears perked up. Restoration. That was a word that echoed deeply within my own hopes. "Restoration? Oscar, that's incredible! Tell me more!"

And just like that, we were off, geeking out over the intricate magical theories, the delicate balance of corrupted energies, and the sheer audacity of trying to undo such profound damage. For a few precious minutes, the threat of demons and angry academies faded, replaced by the shared excitement of discovery. He explained how the light haze around him was all that kept him going, and how leaving it would severely weaken him. The thought, fleeting as it was, that ending his life might benefit Morrigan crossed my mind, but it was quickly banished. His research, his knowledge, his very existence, were too important.

No sooner had I stepped out of Oscar’s lab, still buzzing with a mix of excitement and unease, than a sharp, familiar pain lanced through my shoulder. Babdh, my pseudo-draconic companion, had landed, her sharp claws digging into my flesh. Her tiny face was contorted in a rare intensity.

"Do no business with that filthy servant of Orcus!" Her voice, usually a mischievous whisper, was a harsh rasp in my ear. "Make no promises!"

I winced, trying to dislodge her without being too obvious. "Babdh, he's important. His research—it can restore my friend, Jake."

"The day may come when we use him against my foe," she interrupted, her grip tightening. "But heed me, Nix. There is another path to restoring your friend. Feed the soil with the blood of your enemies and make no deals with the filthy alchemist."

My blood ran cold. Blood of my enemies? "Babdh, what does that mean?"

"It means it comes at a high cost," she hissed, her eyes gleaming with an ancient, predatory light, "but it is Morrigan's way. And it is not the way of Orcus." With that, she vanished, leaving behind only the lingering sting of her claws and the chilling weight of her words.

Now, I had two paths, both fraught with peril. And Oscar, my friend, was unknowingly caught in the middle of a conflict far older and deadlier than he could possibly comprehend.

***

"Rumor has it, Eli there are those who support Queen Lenore for throne of Drakkenheim," I said. "But these assembled troops seem to think otherwise." I paused to get his attention. "You've polarized the factions to the point that it's easier to understand which side of the toast is buttered." In my mind this put the Queen of Thieves and the Amethyst Academy as our enemies with the Hooded Lanterns and Knights of the Silver Order as out allies.... and the ratlings, they were a wildcard, but I was beginning to think of them a minions of he who laughs last, Orcus.  Lovely

Eli of course, was front and center, Hew gleaming on his hip, looking every inch the king he now claimed to be. He even managed to comb his hair before breakfast, that ridiculous man. I watched him giving some stirring speech, all about fighting for freedom and justice. He's got that royal blood flowing now, supposedly 'purified' by that absurd ritual that somehow brought Elias Drexel back to life, though I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about that particular 'clean slate'.

Slick, the dapper weirdo, was checking his rapier with that single eye of his. He always seems to find opportunity in chaos. I wouldn't be surprised if he already had a few ideas for 'plundering' whatever lay beyond the gate once we breached it. He's got his delerium-tipped crossbow bolts, ready to go. Little did I know, this was to be his day to shine.

Then there's Laik, the 'little ling'. She was fussing with dwarven dynamite, her newly found passion, probably still muttering about "f-ing short fuses". She's tough, though. Fought off that Crocagator like it was just another Tuesday. Still, I sometimes worried about her, especially after the Raven Queen's little 'suggestion' about her soul.

And Cokolkhan... ah, Cokolkhan. He was doing his best to look like a 'normal' druid, but even acting 'normal', he looked more like a particularly unsettling piece of abstract art. He even seemed pleased with his 'mutations,' claiming they were 'great'. I'd seen him munching on a particularly unfortunate-looking rodent earlier. Sometimes, I think he’s closer to the Rat God than he lets on. He was spell casting upon himself, accepting spider legs and a belly maw as the side effects, Delighted by both.

In conversations earlier, Slick had laid out maps and Elias Drexell had shared intelligence. Multiple groups would assault the Temple Gate and defeat the Gamyr (dog-faced men) hopefully taking the gate intact. This would give the Silver Order and the Hooded Lanterns a foothold with which to begin the next part of their plan, whatever that was.

It was agreed, the Doom Slingers would ride griffons and land on the battlement. We'd remain telepathically bonded together and with the leaders of the assault.

When we landed there were 6 Gamyr's manning ballistae, firing into the calvary charges of the Silver Order. Laika, Slick and Cokolkhan dropped them, and cast protective darkness so those on the other tower could not target us.

Eli and I worked to open a heavy wooden trapdoor to the next level. We descended into the darkness and explored around a central massive column to see what I know I'd heard. More Gamyr.

Slick slid down the latter with the skill of a swashbuckler and rounded the central stairway from the other side, taking the first of two of the two unlucky bastards in a sneak attack. Laika hit the other with a boomerang and the two disappeared into the stairwell rapidly moving down the stairs.

"Um... shouldn't they wait," asked Eli, but he adjusted his shield and ran after them.

In the meantime, Cokolkhan had used his mutations to climb down the outside of the tower, his spider-like legs clinging to the vertical surface... he skittered across a broad section of the wall towards the other tower.

As Eli and Nix set foot on the next level they found that Slick had already dispatched one of berserker gamyrs and together with Laika was working on the second.

Eli stepped forward and swung his axe, Hew with an upward swipe striking the dog-faced creature between the legs and he fell, just as I invoked Vicious Mockery on the remaining dogman.

"With a twitch and a blink, cast out all doubt,

Let dog-faced men promptly trot out!"

The remaining beast clutched first his head, for my poetry was horrible and then his chest because Slick blade was fast.

Slick and Laika bused through the remaining door just as and explosion rocked the tower.

"Laika was that you," I asked mentally, but I knew the answer. This was the Ratlings and their promised 'assistance.' 

"Nix," shouted Cokolkhan over the telepathic link, "They've ruined the other tower. It's imploded. I'm going to try to get in past the rubble."

I shot and explanation to Theodore Marshal and Elias Drexel warning them that the ratlings had arrived. They only extolled us to hurry. Apparently it was a meat grinder outside the walls.  Ansom Lang was sending his men into to attack that ratlings in their tunnels.  It was chaos.

Laika surveyed the winches, for we were at the room where we could not lift the inner and outer portcullis as I touched my Seal of Drakkenheim invoking its powers of telekinesis. Slick and Eli gathered behind the paladins great shield, ready.

As I shifted the pile of rubble, Laika shot me a mean glance, "Don't move another rock. Let the expert handle this," she said sternly. She added a few more sticks and shifted them subtly before lightning the fuse.

The halfling walked confidently away, blowing out a match and flinging it over her shoulder as out hearts pounded. She continued to walk and then opened her mouth a fraction as the dwarven engineers had taught her and covered her ears.

Kaboom!!!

Shards flew dust and smoke rolled across the room momentarily engulfing Laika and when it cleared they all crossed the room to begin cranking the winch, for yes. The Dwarven dynamite worked its wonders.

Eli kissed both of his biceps before putting his back to it and advanced the winch, Next I used my telekinesis to crank it further. Cokolkhan pushed forward, multiple legs used for traction and finally, Laika took a pull.

"Ah, just so," I said sliding a pin into a slot beneath the great gears. I saw Slick put fingers to his temple and heard his words mentally across the telepathic bond.

"The first portcullis is lifted."

The second portcullis was easier, and motivated by the sharp words from Theodore Marshall who had begun narrating the continued slaughter his men faced.

Slick disappeared using his previous speed to dash up the stair, apparently he was going to take on any remaining crossbow and ballista firing dogs.

"Where the Hell is Slick going," asked Laika over the din of horse hooves on the cobbles beneath them. They could vaguely make out a calvary charge from the Silver Order Paladins who took advantage of the recently opened gates.

"Dunno," I said, "but I bet it was back to the top of the tower. The battle has just begun." And now we could hear the shouts of Hooded Lanterns and the horrific cries of wounded horses, Dog creatures and ratlings. 

Cokolkhan deftly climbed up a winch chain and through a hole near the ceiling, his eight legs moving with a speeds that made us all feel anxious, after all, Slick had proven how quickly he too could move early in the gate assault and now were were being left behind.

Eli panted from exertion. He was the one who took the last pull on the winch and a handsome sheen of perspiration dotted his brow until he swept it into his hair, briefly styling it as he grabbed his shield and axe.

"Let's move," he shouted, "That rogue is tough, but but Drakkenheim can punish even the toughest of us."

And with that they were away. Eli and I (Nix) outpacing Laika who was giving it her all, arms pumping, but the little halfling just couldn't keep pace. I was about to crack a joke about her needing a booster seat for her boots when I saw it—a flicker in her eyes, a sudden intensity that belied her usual teenage flippancy.

A faint, shimmery aura, like a heat haze off a summer road, rippled around her. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but I felt the air shift, a whisper of wind that wasn't there a moment before. Her movements became a blur. One second she was a few steps below us, the next she was a streak of brown and green, Zephyr Strike indeed. She shot past Eli first, a tiny whirlwind of focused energy, leaving him blinking in her wake. Then she whipped past me, and I swear I felt a gust of wind ruffle my fur. By the time Eli and I even registered what had happened, she was already flying up the stout ladder that led to the next level, her small frame surprisingly agile.

When I arrived, Slick and Laika had dismantled the Garmyr ballista team, but more of the garmyr berserkers were just cresting the wall.  Eli and Slick each engaged two of them while Laika flings that strange bent stick striking them dog-faced men about the head and shoulders as she peppered their torsos with crossbow bolt.

I found myself drawing my longsword, of all things, and using it to fling an eldritch blast at the one troubling Eli, "By the hand of Morrigan!" I shouted.

Eli muttered a curse of Bane on the Berserkers and they seemed to falter as their confidence waned. 

"Guys," came the voice of Cokolkhan, "There's a huge pit just inside the gates, several Paladin's are down, Garmyr, Ratling, Lantern and Silver Order all fighting," he shouted over the telepathic link. With out thinking he'd pulled one paladin from beneath a fallen horse and the Knight uttered a string of oaths.

"What should I do," Cokolkhan panted?

"Kill the dogs," yelled Slick, as he drove his rapier into side of a Berserker.

"And get the rest to stop fighting," I said. I hated Ansom Lang for what he'd done in the past, but he was an ally now.

"Behind us," shouted Laika, just as three Chimera came swooping down to attack the four Doom Slingers their multi-throated guttural roar vibrating through my bones even as the Berserker Garmyrs pressed the attack from the other side.

I watched as Laika pointed with her blowgun before calmly loading one of those venomous purple worm darts and firing it into the one swooping toward her, she struck the goat head and it snarled in pain forcing me to cringe in sympathy.

Slick and Eli continued to fence with the Berserkers who I knew we could defeat, but with enemies on all sides, I clutched my Seal of Drakkenheim and uttered another oath.

"Fate wills it!" 

Suddenly, 5 man-sized sandbags rose into the air and pelted the berserkers forcing three to fall from the tower, and the fourth to stagger the confusion, Eli took this one with an axe blow to the body and the beast fell some 60-feet to the rocky earth below.

The Doom Slingers turned and were received by gouts of fire from the Dragon heads.  I saw Slick's hand push upward on the chin of the first forcing the flames to fly too high over his head. Then Laika swirl her cloak around in a practiced move to take partial damage. The beast lit into them with bite, claw and fury, not appreciating what I saw as grand artistry.

The final grotesque Chimera—lion, goat, and dragon—was upon me, a chaotic whirlwind of snapping jaws, raking claws, and molten breath. Unprepared, I stumbled back, the stench of its burning fury filling my nostrils. But even as its fangs lunged for my throat, a cold, desperate instinct took over. With a surge of will, I invoked the Tomb of Levistus, and in an instant, a shell of frigid ice encased me, the world becoming a muffled, blue-tinged blur. 

Inside my impromptu popsicle coffin I heard the satisfying thud and tearing sounds as my five animated, man-sized sandbags began to relentlessly pummel the beast, returning its violent greeting with a righteous, sandy vengeance. They spoke five times and as the ice began to crack, I smiled.

Eli was at my side smiting the creatures and Slick and Laika were able together to destroy the first Chimera.

Below, the air hung thick with the stench of death and blasted earth, a symphony of gnawing and scuttling echoing through the pit. Cokolkhan, now more spider than Aasimar, stood tall amidst a horde of ratlings, their beady eyes fixed on him with an almost reverent hunger. They had been gorging on the bloated carcasses of dead horses, their usual feral squabbles silenced by the grotesque feast. But as he began to speak, his voice a low, resonant thrum that seemed to vibrate from him and their attention shifted.

He didn't roar or command; he connected. His words, not in any language the Lanterns would understand, were a guttural symphony of clicks, whistles, and the unsettling language of the deep places. As he spoke, a palpable change rippled through the ratlings. The frenzied feasting ceased, their scrawny bodies tensed, and their chittering rose not in hunger, but in a unified, angry chorus. They were no longer mere scavengers; they were a legion. His legion.

The sudden clang of armor and the harsh glare of Lanterns announced the disapproval of Ansom Lang, the hardened leader of the Hooded Lanterns, stood at the front, his face a mask of grim determination. The two forces faced each other across the cavern, a tense standoff. The air crackled with anticipation, the ratlings a bristling, chittering tide, and the Lanterns, a disciplined line of steel grim determination.

Then, from the heart of the ratling throng, Cokolkhan stepped forward as he siphoned away the delerium contamination and once again became an approximation of his "normal" self.

"Stand down, Ansom Lang," he intoned, the words echoing with a strange authority as all the beady rat eyes turned to meet his. Ansom's expression flickered, a flicker of surprise, then calculation, as he weighed the unexpected request against the snarling, countless eyes of the ratling horde. Even as fresh skirmishes broke out on the fringes, a desperate, chaotic dance of steel and claw, Ansom's gaze remained fixed on the druid, a silent deliberation playing out on his face. Elsewhere dog-faced opponents faced off with both ratling and Hooded Lantern and Ansom saw this, but in the chaos he seemed incapable of rational thought.

"You are friends with the ratlings and their incessant, eat-eat-eat," chided Ansom, and as if in response Cokolkhan's ratlings shouted.

"Eat, eat, eat!!!"

"I'm reporting your to my Sister," was all he could manage as a pack of Garmyr forced him to turn and fight with, "Ignore the rats for now, Kill the dogs," shouted Ansom and the Lanterns turned as one to meet battle.

And that was when the Hell Hounds arrived, burning many of the ratlings and torching Cokolkhan as well. Cokolkhan reached out on the telepathic bond calling for reinforcements. He legion was burned.

***

Back on the tower.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I strode toward Slick as three of my animated sandbags kept the Chimera nearest me busy. I could see that Eli had things in hand as I wrapped an arm around the Drow rogue and uttered the words of Thunderstep. In the blink of an eye Slicka and I were near the lip of the pit, two of the defenestrated Berserkers badly beaten facing us.

Above Eli and Laika finished the Chimera and gave bear hugs to sandbags that began to descend.... Too slowly for the Paladin who cast Misty Step to join the battle below. Together the Paladin and Rogue routed the Berserkers as Nix gave a playful kick to the mid-sections of one as he fell into the pit.

"This is Temple Gate," he yelled, as Cokolkhan looked up relieved that reinforcements had arrived. Hell Hounds were ripping into him and his legion of rats.

I knew this battle had to end in a flashy way as I formulated my next statement, my voiced magically amplified.

"Leave now," I shouted at those in the pit, "or your skein shall be cut from the tapestry of fate!" And with that I released a chaotic trio of arcs, crackling energy erupted from my hands, splitting into two distinct bolts that slammed into the chests of the charging hell hounds with concussive force, sending them sprawling. A third, errant bolt, sizzling with unstable magic, veered wildly towards the mass of fleeing ratlings, its unpredictable trajectory causing them to scatter in terrified, chittering pandemonium.

Scribbles and Squeaks, the ratling leaders fled back to the safety of their tunnels and the bolts consumed the Hell Hounds.

In the aftermath, the wounded were helped and the dead were memorialized by Ophelia and Theodore Marshall. Apparently, brave Ansom pursued the Dog men, but many escaped to return to a creature known as the "Lord of the Feast." Ophelia Reed explained this monstrosity as a sort of King of the Dog Men. 

The silver order torched the shanty town around the gates as Petra Lang looked on with a growing sense of tension playing across her face. She was not used to guarding her thoughts, still being so young.

"I see conflict with the Knights," she said. "Where we could build, they would burn."

"Perhaps both are needed," said Eli half to himself, but she heard him and raised an eyebrow.

Drakkenheim isn't just a ruin; it's a living, malevolent thing. I can feel it in my bones, a constant, low-level thrum of corruption that whispers promises of power while seeking to break us apart. We had to move, Laika was clear on that. The hairs on the back of her neck were doing their dance again, a sure sign that we'd lingered too long in one spot. This time, her instincts were spot on.

A creature emerged from the haze, an insect the size of a carriage—a House Centipede, they called them. 

Before most of us knew of the danger, Slick, with his unnerving Drow speed, was already a blur, the obsidian dagger flashing in one hand the rapier in there other, he leaped toward the derelict building. "Aim for its eye!" he yelled, but the Digipede's chitin was too thick, the blade glancing off with a high-pitched scrape. Laika didn't waste a moment, her boomerang and crossbow bolts finding purchase in the beast's segmented body.

It was all happening too fast. The Digipede slammed into a wall, its legs churning, and the whole thing came down in a thunderous roar. Masonry, dust, and debris rained down, and we all instinctively covered our faces, but that was when the centipede revealed its true horror. A crackle of raw, untamed magic burst from its head, and a bolt of lightning struck me. It felt like my very essence was being slowed. I was still standing, but my limbs felt like they were filled with molasses, my mind cloudy.

"This city... it's not just the monsters," I muttered through gritted teeth. "The city itself is the enemy."

Just as the dust settled, Eli stepped forward, his axe, Hew, glowing with a righteous light. "By my oath, and by the light of the flame, I will cleanse this blight from our city!" he roared, a divine radiance emanating from him. He cleaved into the centipede with a mighty blow, and with the creature injured and its attention on him, Slick and Laika finally had their chance for a clean shot. The fight was far from over, but for the first time in what felt like an eternity, we had the upper hand

Then Cokolkhan—ever more a stranger to us than the monsters we face—reached into his satchel. From it, he pulled a live scorpion, holding the venomous creature close to his lips as he whispered some corrupted druidic prayer. In a flash, it grew, becoming a monstrous version of itself, ready to do battle. The a giant scorpion's mandibles clacked together.

Nix, knowing he could do little, cursed the creature with his Mind Sliver cantrip.

"Before I even speak,

your thoughts start to quake,

Your cheap flimsy shell,

is about to break!"

The damage was minimal, but in that moment Cokolkhan, in a strongly disturbing voice, ordered his Giant Scorpion forward. Its pincers sought purchase, but centipede's many legs repelled them. Suddenly, there was an opening.

"Strike, my pretty!" Cokolkhan shouted, and it did, piercing the armor of the creature. My cantrip froze the centipede long enough for the scorpion to pump venom, one, two, three times into the carapace. The Digipede curled in on itself, forcing us all to retreat a few steps as it danced the dance of death.

In the aftermath, Cokolkhan took some parts of this felled creature, secretive about their purpose, and I took one of its brains. I was unsure where the other brains might have been, so I settled for the one.

Sticking to our guns, we continued on to the Cosmological Tower and at the double doors of the clock tower, Eli and I pulled hard, flinging them open to reveal a stench that hung heavy in the room. And very quickly we were enveloped by a deep thrumming sound that accompanied that horrible scent, the unseen danger growing louder by the second... like the buzzing of a thousand angry hornets magnified tenfold.

As our eyes adjusted, we saw them. Five Monstrous Bloated Hives, huge heads looking like beehives carried on spindly, awkward bodies, their masses of open sores and cells leaked a putrid ooze as swarms of glowing insects surrounded them. Compound eyes fixated on us with an unsettling malevolence. As we watched,  they spawned more buzzing swarms, commanding them to attack.

Laika shot her crossbow and boomerang to little avail. Slick, meanwhile, cast Faerie Fire and then took up a pickleball racket in one hand and his rapier in the other. With these he darted in to jab at the greater bees while backhanding the lesser bees. Soon Laika and Eli too had adopted this strange, improvised method of fighting.

I had never played pickleball even though it was very popular in Emberwood Village. I never found the time, and in truth I was a bit clumsier than the others. Instead, I advanced to the center of the room as swarms assailed me, relying on Morrigan's entropic ward to force them to miss even while the swarm thickened around me.

"Morrigan thwarts your attempts to sting me with contamination," I stated flatly as I took up a stance in the middle of the clocktower's first floor, my arms and legs splayed out, imitating a blooming flower.  

The swarms descended on me in that moment as Morrigan's ward held, and at the proper moment I struck them with my Thunderstep spell, blasting the lesser bees in a shower of explosive arcs to fall dead on the ground. I appeared on the balcony, some 20 feet above, shaking my clothes to remove an errant bee which I smashed with my boot.

Into the space created by my spell, Cokolkhan flung three spiders he'd pulled from his bag, landing them, then expanding them to a great size.

"Bring them down," he shouted, "Catch them in your webs." And this is precisely what they did, attacking the greater bees. Some broke free, but others were held. Even as the spiders arrived, the hives  issued a third round of lesser bees from their bee holes, and they stung at one of the spiders, contaminating it with the ability to speak. What it said, I do not know, but what I saw haunted my sleep: this spider drew back and laid its spindly legs on Cokolkhan's shoulders. There was a moment, both tender and unspeakable, that passed between them.

Eli began climbing the stairs, swatting with his pickleball paddle, and Laika, barely in the doorway and perhaps regretting her life choices, did the same. It was Slick who darted in with a booming blade on his rapier, swirling his cloak around him in swashbuckling ways that I could never replicate either in deed or even words. Striking a great delirium drone, he pulled back. As he did, Cokolkhan, possibly imitating his spidery minions, cast thorn whip and pulled the bee forward, forcing Slick's spell to 'boom' a second time, green energy and black ichor dripping from its carapace.

I watched in horror as their foe spawned yet another round of lesser bees, these quickly going after the pickleball defenders. 

"Enough," I shouted, raising my voice above the din. 

Eli watched as I took a piece of Delerium in my left hand, and he shouted back, "No, Nix! Use gloves, you fool!" But I did not listen, and the words of my spell fell from my lips. Suddenly, three arcs of octarine lightning fell upon the bees, exploding the bodies of some as others dropped to the ground in sheets. 

The purple lightning cast eerie shadows on the walls of the tower and left after-images in the eyes of those not careful to guard themselves.

Slick covered his face, the light too bright, and retreated from battle, as Eli continued to swat these creatures. Spiders flung webs to secure them as the crackling energy bolts traced lines through the remaining insects. Soon, all was quiet.

The Doom Slingers ascended the stairway, circling upward above the haze for a well needed rest.

They leveled up.

I awaken to the quiet hum of the Cosmological Clocktower, the sounds of the strange mechanical men my only companion as the others still sleep. For the first time in what feels like an age, my sleep was deep and undisturbed. It was a true rest, not a fitful, Delerium-fueled nightmare. As I stretched, a new thought took root in my mind, a fresh bit of inspiration from my new patron, Morrigan.

With a flick of my wrist and a whisper of power, I traced final bit of that dark, inky pattern on the stone floor. As I finished, it began to glow, a deep, pulsating purple that filled the room with an eerie light. It was the color of the cursed Delerium that seeps into every inch of this city. My smile of satisfaction soured.

The others awoke as the glow intensified, and Eli's voice cut through the silence.

“What is that?” he asked, a hint of unease in his voice.

"It is a teleportation circle. I didn't want to make it purple." I looked at the circle and felt a pang of uncertainty. “I don’t know if this is from Morrigan,” I admitted, “or if this place has simply tainted my magic.”

Cokolkhan nodded, his face etched with understanding, “Delerium has a way of infecting magic,” he said. “It is… inevitable.”

The others stood in silence, looking at the glowing circle. Was it a gift from my patron, a safe haven from the horrors of Drakkenheim's streets? Or was it just another sign that the city was slowly corrupting us. I didn't know the answer, and a cold shiver ran down my spine.

A tense silence hung in the air after my admission. Then, Laika spoke, her voice thick with a mix of defiance and sorrow.

"This place… it forces choices on us all."

Her eyes were fixed on the glowing purple circle, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. We all knew what she was hinting at: the painful secret we’d unearthed long ago. The note from her mother, Queen Lenore, revealing she’d abandoned her own daughter to rescue some woman named Gertrude. The memory of what we’d found of her mother; a corrupt, unthinking monstrosity was still a fresh wound.

Laika saw the sympathy on our faces, but she said nothing more about her mother. She just shook her head, a grim smile on her lips. “I just want to get away from the horrors of Drakkenheim,” she said quietly. “Go back to my family home and fix it up.”

I could see the pain in her eyes, the yearning for a world that was whole and untainted. I knew the feeling well.

"That's a good idea," I said, my voice softer than I intended. "A good home... a safe place. That's what we need, but not yet, I still have promises to keep." 

I felt a pang of kinship with Laika, thinking about her family. It made me think of my own. My family. The only family I’ve ever really known: Jake and Candy. The very thought of them twists my gut. Candy... a member of the Falling Fire, a cult that embraces this very corruption surrendering to it. They shove the Delerium into their chests, welcoming the madness.

I mentally ticked off the steps to a rescue. Jake... poor Jake. He's fully contaminated, they say. A creature now, wandering near the very impact crater, the heart of the corruption. 

"To save Jake, I need three incantations. I have two: Forced Evolution, Neutralizing Field. I've learned them. I've mastered them. But the third... Siphon Contamination. It's the key, the final piece. My patron, the Morrigan, has promised a solution, a way to get it. It’s what keeps me going."

"After that, after I find Jake and bring him home... then, maybe, I can think about a household. A family. A safe place away from all this. But until then, I'm stuck here, with the Delerium and the madness."

Cokolkhan's voice broke the somber silence. "I've a mind to destroy all Delerium," he declared, his gaze fixed and unwavering. "I see no other solution but to consume it, to destroy it and remove it from the world so that nature can return to normal."

I met his eyes with a sad smile. I'd seen him trying to do just that, and I'd seen how it changed him. He was more powerful, yes, but at what cost? How much of that corruption could he take before it consumed him entirely, just as the purple glow of Delerium had tainted the teleportation circle that glowed before us?

"I won't rest until that's done," he finished, his voice a low, final vow.

Slick and Laika stared at him, their faces a mixture of shock and concern. They said nothing, their silence speaking volumes.

Then, Eli spoke, his voice heavy with a profound sense of loss. "This is supposed to be my birthright, my kingdom. But it's nothing while the monsters wander these streets. Less than nothing." He shook his head, his face grim. "I fear you cannot consume all the Delerium, and doing so is only going to destroy you as it's destroyed so many other things."

He looked around the room, at the octarine circle pulsing on the floor, at the weary faces of his companions. "Once we are done here, I'm considering moving the capital to the Von Kessel estate and establishing the kingdom there."

"But enough melancholic self indulgence, "Doom Slingers Assemble" and we each felt that optimize that was stronger than coffee or tea and an optimize grew in our hearts.

We left the quiet of the Clocktower behind, our destination the King's Gate. The fastest path, however, cut straight through Slaughterstone Square, a name that still sends a chill down my spine. The square was home to a colossus, once the city's executioner, now a mad guardian of destruction. It killed anything that entered its domain, flinging the bodies into a massive cistern to be claimed by the followers of the Duchess.

As we drew near, the colossus came into view. It was a terrifying sight, but something was off. Slick, our keen-eyed observer, noticed it first. The monstrosity was pacing, but it never crossed the edge of the inner cobblestones.

"He is restrained," Slick said, his voice a low whisper. "Held in place by some magic." He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "Even so, I don't think it's wise to tempt fate."

"Then let's fly," Cokolkhan declared, already reaching into his pouch. He pulled out a handful of the same horrible buzzing bees we had fought in the Clocktower. As he held them to his lips, he whispered an unheard incantation before flinging them into the air. One by one, each of the five bees swelled to a monstrous size, their wings a furious blur of motion.

No sooner did we mount the giant bees than a surge of wild Delerium magic erupted above us. The air swirled with chaotic, multi-colored light, an impossible, octarine chaos that twisted reality. For a terrifying moment, gravity reversed, and the giant bees, with us on their backs, shot dangerously high into the air. Just as quickly, the chaos magic subsided, and we all came crashing back to the ground. We landed with a painful thud, crushing the bees beneath us and sustaining bruises, mostly to our egos.

With Plan "Bee" a spectacular failure, we moved to Plan "C." This plan was much simpler. Cokolkhan transformed himself and flew directly across the square, a powerful blur in the sky. Laika and Slick, meanwhile, moved with a quiet, practiced stealth, hugging the perimeter of the square. Eli and I remained behind, watching until our allies had safely made it to the other side. Plan "A?" that was Eli flinging a grappling hook and pulling the construct from the square and besting him in a proper fight. That drew chuckles.

With a final glance, I focused my remaining power. A shimmering portal tore open and in a blink, Eli and I were on the other side of the square. I felt the familiar emptiness that comes with a drained well of magic. "I now have no spell slots left," I admitted, my voice a little hoarse from the effort. "But I think it was worth it."

I looked at my companions, a sense of calm washing over me. We were all on the other side, safe for now. I knew that even without my magic, I could rely on them to take up the slack and keep us all safe.

"Is it this part of the city," Laika asked, her voice hushed, "or is the whole place getting worse?"

As she spoke, I barely noticed her. My eyes were fixed on a nearby passageway, where I saw what looked like an altar to Morrigan. I walked unthinking into the sanctum, stepping across debris and detritus before hearing the voice of my patron.

I knelt before the crude altar, the air thick with the scent of ozone and dust. It was there, amidst the rubble, that I heard her voice—not with my ears, but in my very soul. "You've served me well, little warlock," the Morrigan's voice echoed in my mind, a chorus of ravens and a whisper of steel. "You have proselytized daily, though none who have heard you have joined in our sacred mission." The words carried no scorn, only a cold observation. "But today," she continued, her voice sharpening like a blade, "a sacrifice will be required of you. Do not fear to give it freely, for in every sacrifice you make to me, the reward is returned to you tenfold."

and nonmagical, to a distance of 120 ft.

I felt Laika's hand on my side and heard her words, "stay on the path." as I turned and gave her a sour and possibly angry face.

Just then, a Delerium-corrupted troll came at us. Laika and Slick immediately cut loose. Laika's boomerang whirled through the air, while Slick darted in like an elegant fencer, his rapier and dagger flashing. I heard him muttering the words for his booming blade spell as he dodged under a claw and retreated, a quick and fluid motion.

Beside me, Cokolkhan was fiddling with his pants, coaxing something. I looked away when he spoke, "Arise, trowser snake," but out of the corner of my eye, I saw a huge python impossibly slithering from his pant leg and heading toward the troll.

In that moment, the troll spat a miasmatic blast of necrotic death at me. Eli and Slick managed to dodge the worst of it, but the slime clung to my skin, making it tighten and decay. I coughed, wiping the horrible aftermath from my face, and spat back a spell of my own, a cutting insult forged in the pain of the moment.

"Your wounds may close, 

your scars may fade,

But your face will 

always be poorly made!"

My psychic burn seemed to do more than just wound the troll’s ego. It burrowed into its mind, a bitter poison that seemed to prevent its wounds from closing as trolls are want to do.

Eli advanced next, the words of his oath a righteous fire upon his breath. A more traditional flame erupted along the blade of his axe, and as he swung, the flames burst across the creature’s body, forcing a howl of pain.

Little caring for the giant python now latched onto him, the troll advanced on me, clearly offended by my words. In that moment, the snake held him fast, its powerful muscles coiling around his tawny, bandy frame. Cokolkhan spat acid at the troll, the venom sizzling as the snake constricted around him.

The Doom Slingers ended him quickly.

"Quiet!" I muttered under my breath, my mind reeling. "Two heads are not better than one."

Laika and Slick shot me a concerned glance, but before they could question my outburst, the King's Gate loomed before us. Two colossal statues of former kings flanked the entrance, their once-proud visages now scarred by Delerium. "It would be an excellent idea to animate those," I said, but my other mind sneered, a thought so loud I felt the others wince in our shared psychic link.

"Foolishness," the brain next to my liver scoffed. "Do you think a mad goddess's inspiration will hold against this corruption?"

Eli, unaware of my inner turmoil demanded the gates be opened in the name of the King of Drakkenheim, the trolls guarding them simply scoffed. "The only king we obey is in the tower here," they grunted, gesturing over their shoulders. "He'll let you pass if you make an offering."

Morrigan's voice echoed in my mind, "A sacrifice will be required." I looked at my pseudodragon, Babdh, a strange little companion. The thought of offering him, a living creature who trusts me, sent a shudder of revulsion through me.

"A pity, what a fine specimen," the brain next to my liver said with a sigh. "His scales would make a lovely cloak."

"We'll take that halfling," said the lead troll, "looks young and tender, that one."

I looked at the trolls, "We have an offering." Hoping I had understood my patron properly, I offered the pseudodragon and they agreed. They led us up the spiral staircase of the tower to meet their 'king', a corpulent troll so massive he could barely negotiate the stairs. He wore the trappings of a king, with stolen treasures littering the room. On his head was a simple silver band. But it was his eyes that caught my attention—they were curiously bright and intelligent, a stark contrast to his savage, grotesque form.

As I struggled with the intrusive thoughts of my second brain, the rest of the party plunged headfirst into the fight without me. Before I could even register what was happening, Babdh was consumed, yet the 'king' continued his demands of sacrifice.

"I've got your sacrifice right here!" Laika shouted, her boomerang whistling through the air at the nearest troll. She followed up with a volley of crossbow bolts from her hand-held autoloading weapon, a blur of motion and steel.

Slick, a shadow of movement, jumped into the fray forcing the 'king' bellowed in frustration as the rogue darted here and there, a whirlwind of blades. It was his roar that finally cut through the chaos in my mind: 

"You dare defy the King! I'll make you pay, double!" Shouted the massive troll.

I stepped forward, placing a hand on Eli’s shoulder. With all the dramatic flair a goat-faced tiefling can muster, I declared, "The true king of Drakkenheim stands before you, beast!" My fingers traced the familiar sigils on a scroll as I recited the benediction:

"By Morrigan's will,

imposters shall flee,

As time itself

now bows to thee!"

Eli body shimmered and pulled for a moment and now his limbs moved with impossible speed as the Haste spell took hold. His axe began its dangerous, flaming glow once more, and he struck the nearest troll not once, but three times in a single fluid continuous arc of motion.

The troll king tried to circle around us to attack from behind, but Slick met him halfway. He emerged from the shadows, striking with both his obsidian dagger and his rapier, the latter leaving the crackling lightning energy of a booming blade within the fake king. As he pursued, the energy released with a deafening crackle, and the imposter roared in pain and fury.

Meanwhile, Cokolkhan’s giant constrictor snake had a troll completely occupied. Knowing the creature was vulnerable to acid as well as flame, Cokolkhan flung a gob of burning spittle at it while the snake held it still.

My only task was to maintain concentration on the Haste spell, a seemingly easy task, but with my second brain chittering in my mind, it was far from it. Yet, I managed to push through and cast a Mind Sliver. The troll recoiled as I hurled the insult:

"You heal from cuts

and bruises fast,

Now try a searing,

Brain cells blast!"

"Foolishness," the brain next to my liver chittered across our shared link, "You think your little rhymes can save you? You’ll be lucky to get out of here with one brain, let alone two."

The Doom Slingers prevailed. Even as I held my hands to my head, reeling from the pain of my inner turmoil, Eli dropped his troll and then the one facing Laika. Cokolkhan’s troll faltered, leaving only the King. His headband seemed to sparkle, a glint of recognition that he was bested.

“Wait, wait,” he bellowed, raising a hand in surrender. “You may pass the King’s Gate, and take some of my treasure, too.”

Slick’s eyes lit up, not with greed, but with the cunning of a predator who knows he has his prey. He knew his Booming Blade had the king trapped. “Shake on it,” the rogue said, extending his hand with a sly, predatory smile.

The king, a fool to his own fury, agreed. He advanced, but the Booming Blade exploded, and so did the Doom Slingers. Laika sprang onto the massive bed, firing bolts into what was rapidly becoming a corpse. Even I found my focus, lashing out with Eldritch Blasts. But it was Slick who struck the final blow, driving his dagger deep into the king's belly. Eli finished the job, burning the troll with his flaming axe, turning the king into a smoldering pile of flesh and bone.

After the fight, the Doom Slingers gathered the spoils: a pile of gems, gold, Delerium, and magical scrolls. It was doubtful these were things freely given; these bandits had made disingenuous promises in the past and consumed entire adventuring parties, leaving their treasure where they fell.

Outside the gates, the party found the little house the Hooded Lanterns had promised, and there they rested. Cokolkhan and Eli set to work with spells and the magical rod, removing contamination, including the extra brain that had tormented me.

"Don't you dare!" the brain shrieked, its voice a terrified whisper in my mind. "I am a part of you! A divine gift! You'll never be whole without me!"

But its protests were in vain. With a final jolt of psychic pain, the voice was gone. I was whole again. And then, at long last, we slept.

The Surface. Shit. I can’t believe I’m still on the Surface. And that it is just as fucked up as the Underdark. Twenty seven years now . the last ten years looking for that damn eyepatch. And it was in Drakkenheim. Of course it was. At least here I don’t have to worry about that ol’ devil sun. 

So anyway. Finally got the party to head to the Black Ivory Inn, where I can start off to find my family's tomb. It fell underground when the meteor hit.  You knew that. I’ll move on. So. Ten years. Chompin’ at the bit…a bit. 

The new Cokolkhan (newly intellectual. Wizards did it. He’s got the brains, but not the background, if you catch my meaning.  All the recipes, but no pantry. ) wanted to go play in traffic with a delirium sludge gyre. “How many licks to find out what’s inside?” None. We took the side streets instead. (Three. The answer is three. It’s always three.) Seriously, Cokolkhan is like a kid who is unwrapping presents on life day, and plays with each toy right away, then sets it down and never uses it again. He’s got so much magic stuff going on right now, and he never seems to use the same gift twice.  This time, he gave me cricket legs so I can more easily join him on the roofs for recon. I offered to rub them together to play the song of my people, but nobody wants that.  Summoning drow women? Can’t think of a worse scenario. Coko promptly fell through the roof. Shoulda had cricket legs. “Your heart’s in the right place, “I called out to him, “But your feet weren’t.” Honestly though, at this point, I have no idea where his heart has ended up. Could be anywhere. Thumb?

Anyhoo. Saw a few Pilgrims. Silver Flame Believers. Relayed the message. No Candy. Had an unhealthy glow about them. In the middle of their chests. Oh. TRUE believers. Nix approached, with brochures. The Hexblade doesn’t ask for any of that, but it’s a good shtick. The Flamers hated it.  Enough reason to keep on doing it. He discovered that they had been seeking a Flame prophet named Balthazar, who was last seen in the vicinity of the Inn. However, they had recently had their asses handed to them, so they were going to ground to lick their wounds and reassess their life choices. There might be a reward in bringing him back, though. Rewards are good. 

Nix was looking forward to good food and drink at the Inn. Rumor has it that it is strangely well-preserved, rivalling pre-meteor joints like the Gilded Lily. Elivalor was looking forward to a shower. I was looking forward to Eli taking a shower. How can armor collect…scent? Like sweat wrapped in steel and velvet. Velvet cuz…royalty. 

Ok. The Inn, The Black Ivory Inn. Ten years, find a map, find a family, find an Inn. Here we were. And there it was. Fully intact, like the meteor had never struck. I looked around in disbelief.  Destruction everywhere. But not the inn. Wafting through the air was a haunting melody. Do melodies waft like smoke?  This one did.  It was a siren’s whisper…”Come listen,” it beckoned. Even Laika, who hated 2370’s supergroup tunes, seemed enthralled. The Inn seemed superimposed upon a ruined crater, and I didn’t know what to believe. Hand on rapier, words on spells, boomerang, we burst through the door—tinkling glasses, incredible piano music, and the sound of a good time like we hadn’t had in ages. Murmuring conversation. Murmuring! The last time the Queen’s Men were murmuring, seventeen people died. 

The song seemed otherworldy, yet familiar. The player, also otherworldly and familiar. Miss Charlotte. I stopped to listen. Eli, Nix and Laika headed to the bar. I stopped to look. After a moment, Miss Charlotte seemed a bit…insubstantial . Her edges didn’t sit right. (Like Sybil Shepherd in Moonlighting. Yeah, I know you don’t know. It’s an Underdark thing.) 

“A pint of your finest, Sir!” Eli called out.  Pints? The Underdark went metric ages ago. Eli is always pulling the Noble card. Why call attention to it?  Just be tall, and…tall. The rest will follow. The fellow next to him  said,” You look like money!” He pulled out a coin– “No really! Actual money.” And there it was– that von Kessel jawline etched into the pewter (they say it’s silver, but we know better) matching Eli’s clenched jaw like a pair of mittens.”Drinks are on the house! “ the barkeeper called out, “A scion of the Von Kessel line visits us today!” Everyone cheered. What the actual fuck. We got a weird piano player, a weirder bar, and everyone is having way too much a good time. Me, I clung to the shadows. Hello darkness, my old friend. (Sorry Laika. No, wait 2360’s  superduos are ok, I assume. Hope so. Don’t need a boomerang to the jaw.) 

Even Laika got into it. Comparing a halfling gentleman to a portrait she had found in the ruins.   “Laika?” he said, “My daughter is named Laika. I’m celebrating! My wife had a baby! I’m a dad!I” Everyone cheered. I wondered for a moment how Nix was going to excite the crowd, then he chilled everyone’s ale mugs.  Cheers. Cokol had found a table near the singer. “Welcome to the black inn made of ivory…such a lovely place, such a lovely face”…Cokol was singing along like he’d heard the words everyday of his life. No cheers.  He was a bit flat. “Plenty of room at the black inn made of ivory, any time of year, it’s this time of year…” Ok, that was an odd lyric.  A premonitory tremor shook me.   As a third son from a culture that only allows two sons per household, I know a thing or two about trusting my instincts.This wasn’t a sanctuary, it was a snare. Time for a reconnoiter. I checked the basement.  Full of pirates.  I checked the upper halls…empty rooms, except for one, barred from within. Full of prophet. Returning to the main room, Nix told me that Cokol had retreated to the kitchens. “There goes their c+ rating!” I said. The joke that actually brought down the house. A searing violently purple glow roared through the sky, and the world ended.  I remember thinking, wow. TWO meteors? That’s some shitty luck. 

Then I woke up again, fifteen years ago. This was some kind of time loop. Yeah, I figured it out.  Death clears your thoughts, it seems. I tried to leave.   I could.  I walked out the front door, but it was both fifteen years ago, and now, as though superimposed over each other. Physically fine, but mentally…stormy weather.  I went back in, not eager to lose the party to time. “A pint of your finest!” Eli cried out to the bartender. Again. “You look like money! No, really, actual money.” “My daughter is named Laika. I’m celebrating! My wife had a baby! I’m a dad!I!” 

Freakin weird. I asked Cokol to study Miss Charlotte with his other senses…he did, and confirmed that she was, indeed, diaphanous.  He also had an image of her impaled on a humanoid sized shard of delirium, which blinked out as quickly as it had appeared. I waited, watching the play, as everyone had had something to eat or drink again. What was causing this? How do I get those freaking big keys off of Ol’ Open Mike? How long did I have until I couldn’t get out? How many cycles?  Three.  It’s always three. I rushed up the stairs to check on our prophet. He refused to come out, “I will die if I leave this place I know it!  I have seen it! Over and over and over!!!!” You can check out any time you like, but can never leave…Works at keeping prophets alive, I guess. 

Boom. Reset. I rushed over to Nix, who was reaching for his drink. “A pint of your finest!” I grabbed his elbow.  “Don’t drink that ,” I said “It’s not safe, and neither is the food.” 

“But I just made it frosty cold, See? “ he replied, pointing at the dew on the sides of the mug. “No. “ I said, " There’s an oddity.  Try to go outside.” He tried, but could only make it to the threshold. “Ok, that IS odd,” he admitted, as he used mage hand to pull the bowl of peanuts from Eli’s grasp. We explained matters to the party., quietly huddled at our fifteen year reunion table. “See, according to my map, the entrance to the Underdark lies in a huge crater, right where this inn stands. Stood. Stands.“ Nix cast his arcane perception over the pianist, and was afforded the same vision Cokol had had. “It’s an arcane anomaly, caused by that giant shard of delirium!” At which point Cokol turned into an otyugh and tried to grapple her, or the shard, or whatever he could grab. There was nothing there.  It was all an illusion. The crowd grew ugly. 

Boom. reset. OK. Where would the anomaly get its power. I looked down. Under the stage. A hugely liminal space, the area beneath a stage. We fell into marching order and made our way downstairs.  The pirates cleared a path, and we rounded a final corner…

Horror. The pianist, in a swirling amorphous mass, mixed with bits of the piano.. Her faced swirled past, distorted, tortured, angry and weeping. Her hands swung out, clasping vainly at the chill air. The piano bits seemed calm. I leapt at it, blade booming. Laika did her one two three magic, and everyone tore into the gelatinous musician, hoping that her destruction would free us, free everyone.  Cokol seared her with moonlight, Nix spoke a hasty couplet, which, perhaps, was just doggerel enough that she collapsed into dust.  Cokol, thinking clearly now with his headband, picked up a solitary piano key that lay in the remains. He focused on it, and it gave him an image of the stage. We ran back to the main room, where everything was chaos. The stage, the walls, the patrons were all flickering, wavering, like the deepest parts of  a fever dream. Except for the piano. It stood steadfast in its place, cooly anchoring us in time. I told Cokol, ”Replace the key!”  He slid over and did just that, and the flickers of reality stopped, but we could tell that the anchor was still in place. Cokol called out, ”We have to destroy the piano!” 

Eli strode to the keyboard, leapt into the air, and crashed his shield down on the cursed instrument. There was a terrible cacophonous clangor, the exact opposite of music, and the piano collapsed, and ended,  with a final tiny sigh. We found ourselves standing in a crater. The doors to the underdark were right there before us. And Balthazar was right there with us.

Into the wreckage of the Black Ivory Inn

Down a Tunnel, that Laika declared is the the Underdark,

Past Phase Spiders, past the impossible fall into an abyss.

Around and nearly to the X, They encountered 3 Driders.... and eventually a Balor. who claimed to be He Who Laughs Last. Eli used a haste spell... which I thought was 4th level, but meh... after nearly dying and Coko's Big tentacle grabbed at spiders controlling the battlefield.  Laika got her are whipped by the Balor who stood 10 ft tall and farted fire wherever he went. But between Eli,, Laika , and Slick that ran his sorry ass off.

The party defeated these... and entered the Do-a-deer tomb where they found many magical items, including spider-silk armor for Slick.

Other  items await the DM's pleasure.

When attempting to leave, Lloth appeared as a woman and insisted that only a son of Do-a-deer could raid the tomb, He submitted to a blood draw, but she refused and attacked up..... Coko summoned a cat with 4 eyes and too many tails, but once Lloth used Neutralizing Field and nullified all magics, we knew we'd lose, so we retreated and something kept her contained with in a close boundary.... in anger, She blocked the passage way were we'd entered, which sucked because Nix was just gonna Dimension Door there, but the party would have to wait for two long rests.

Anyway, they encountered two Mind Flayers and attempted to sneak past them in magical Darkness that Nix had created.... however, a 19 stealth roll was a failure and he had to lift the darkness cuz no one could see.  Everyone waved from Mind Blast, except Nix who has a GOO patron supposedly there to help him with such things.... so he was incapacitated, stunned and soon a mind flayer was on his face removing 55 of his 56 remaining HP.  Eli dashed fwd and used Stunning Smite blasting the Mind flayer backwards and possibly killing it.

Session end.

Notes from the DM - Previous BOLD stuff:

This demon has been summoned. It has the taint of my enemy upon it. Destroy it, and I will tell you how to rescue Jake.  — Babdh

Balor is protecting some goddess and her sanctuary

He Who Laughs Last offers Nix a Wish for a Soul

Coko hears a telepathic message as Llolth vanishes. I know of your friend, the Duchess. She will try to take the throne. But my friends and I will keep that treasure from her.

Slick knows these are ilithids, powerful psychic enemies that dwell in the Underdark. He can also tell that they are corrupted. Who knows what sort of contaminated damage they can deal? Slick also knows that they are commonly in service to a sort of master brain.

Have some mind flayer combat.

Laika’s spidey sense goes off. She hears the sound of heavy wings behind you, far off, but there.

After 2 rounds, it seems as if the Flayers are retreating. You have no choice but to follow. Laika knows that the only way out is forward

You all begin to hear heavy footfalls from the tunnel behind you as Laika’s alarm goes off like an air raid siren.

As Balor approaches, you destroy the mind flayers.

Only Nix has been affected by the psychic blasts. He can’t participate in the baylor fight 

Fought the Balor & killed it - Killed off the flayers before you could follow them.

Successfully snuck past a Troll Hag’s Lair and emerged into Smuggler’s tunnel.

Heard ratlings nattering about “not so smart”, “shiny red thing,” “Rat God,” “Rat Prince will be King,” “eat the whole world.”

Headed back up to the Black Ivory entrance, meeting the group of Hooded Lanterns Nix summoned before he lost his brain to mind flayers.

Made it to the Garrison without incident. Got healed and purged of any remaining contamination, recharged any items with limited use, and LEVELED UP TO 10. 

The wreckage of the Black Ivory Inn was a scar of delerium and ruin, the air still thick with the memory of the establishment's maddening time loop. No matter the corruption, a structure of this grandeur still held the faint, stubborn scent of bygone nobility. I found no solace in it, though; my attention was fixed on the prize: whatever lay at the end of the crude map Slick had found sewn into a Eye Patch.

Slick, of course, was coiled tight as a crossbow string. The closer we got, the more his Drow features sharpened, his vigilance absolute. He was a man consumed, and I (Elivalor) understood that focus. Family duty demanded clarity.

We found the entrance—a hole beneath the shattered floorboards, just wide enough for the stoutest of us. Laika went first, naturally. Our ranger melted into the darkness, her movements silent, her signature boomerang tucked securely in its harness.

When I dropped down, the air immediately changed. It wasn't merely the damp, cold breath of a sewer; it was an ancient, sulfurous chill. I held my lantern high, its light gleaming off my Skymetal Shield and my polished armor. I felt like the clean, visible lines of my armor were the only part of my place I could trust.

"Well, if that isn't the Underdark," Laika’s voice rasped back from the gloom, laced with an unnerving professional pride. She was moving with purpose now, her small frame navigating the close quarters with preternatural grace. "This is my kind of ground, Eli. Feels... familiar."

Cokolkhan loomed behind me, his curiosity a sharp counterpoint to my own measured steps. I didn't need to turn to know he was inspecting every grotesque vein of fungi and every patch of sickening slime.

“I only wish we had time to chart this terrain properly,” I muttered, mostly to myself, keeping my voice steady. “A true Prince would understand the strategic value of these tunnels.” But looking she saw Slick with his map, making notes as they went.

As we advanced, the tunnel opened into a cavern. The sound of our boots suddenly vanished, replaced by a dreadful, hollow echo.

“Steady, everyone,” I commanded, gripping Hew tighter. “Keep your eyes sharp. The darkness here is… unnatural.”

Then the light fell away, and my heart hammered an uneven rhythm against my ribs—or where my ribs should be. I felt a sudden, profound wave of nausea, the irrational certainty that my insides were useless, cumbersome waste. My organs are superfluous, a fleshy, redundant burden. I nearly pitched forward, my breath catching. Control, Eli. Control. The axe was real. The ground was solid. The enemy would be concrete.

Laika, now a faint shadow fifty feet ahead, pointed toward the ceiling. Phase Spiders. Horrific things, shimmering in and out of reality.

“Easy work,” I whispered, channeling my focus away from the superfluous ballast in my midsection. “Keep moving, Laika. Don't engage unless absolutely necessary.”

But it was necessary and soon their ethereal goo was inside my gauntlets and in my hair. Nix was kind enough to use his magic even as he talked nonsense about the Morrigan patron of his. "I'm not joining your cult, Nix."

Moving on the tunnel abruptly ended, plunging into a colossal black emptiness. The crevasse was impossible—a raw, geological wound that swallowed all sound and light. I felt the awful, cold updraft of the abyss on my face.

Nix stepped up beside me, using a flicker of his arcane power to conjure a rhyming curse before looking down at the drop.

“My Liege,” he said, his voice unusually strained, “this fall would see us to the Shadowfell, perhaps, before hitting bottom. No amount of grace or courage will span that gap. What is the next command?”

I took a breath, the cold air scraping my throat. My duty was clear: lead us across. My shield, my armor, my axe—these were the necessities. The soft, worthless things inside me were nothing. We crossed with careful measured steps, all except Laika who for some reason tried to sprint across and nearly fell. 

“We leave no one behind," my shout echoed back to me as I reached out and hoisted the Halfling to her feet.

We followed Slick family map, his eyes starting to hold hints of ancestral recognition as he moved now with a confidence and speed I'd not seen since the siege of the gates some weeks ago. And then, there they were: three Driders, those grotesque spider-men, clinging to the cavern stalagmites, their eyes reflecting the gloom like hungry embers. They were bad enough, but Nix seemed to sense something far worse and used Thunderstep to remove himself from combat. I could feel the presence of something far worse was near, but could not place it.

Suddenly, the cavern was alight. A terrifying, ten-foot-tall silhouette burst from the rock, leaving trails of farted fire in its wake. A Balor.

“He Who Laughs Last!” the demon roared in Nix's face. Its voice shaking the rock, a weapon of smoke and terror in its massive hand and a horrible whip with snakes in the other. My mind reeled, momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer, magnificent destruction the fiend represented and I redoubled my efforts, casting Haste upon myself, feeling a burst of glorious, exhilarating speed flood my limbs.

I charged, swinging Hew in a blur.

The battlefield immediately became chaos. The Driders began coordinating, sending webs and poisoned barbs our way. Cokolkhan, in his unsettling, summoned another cat-like creature (Bruce) and together they focused the new power. 

When the Balor shifted its attention to Laika. Our ranger was quick, dancing out of the demon’s reach, but not fast enough. The Balor’s whip cracked like a thunderclap, lashing across her arm. I heard her sharp intake of breath and then it pulled her towards it's fiery self.

“Laika, fall back! Slick, stay low!”

Slick, energized by the proximity of his goal, was a whirlwind of knives and shadows, focusing his attacks with surgical precision. The Haste spell allowed me to close and strike the Balor repeatedly, driving Hew deep into its tough, demonic hide. The axe sang with holy power, the sound a pure, beautiful note amidst the chaos.

Between my relentless attacks, Laika’s uncanny bolt accuracy, and Slick’s surgical strikes, the great demon saw the folly of attacking the Doom Slingers and roaring a defeated curse in frustration, fled in panting panic. We were safe, at least for now. 

"That creature," said Nix, "Is somehow tied to the patron of Oscar Yoren. I like it not." Oscar was the half-crazed alchemist who'd sent them on quests to find the Eldritch Lilies so they could make Aqua Expurgo. He's also taught Nix a number of useful spells. "That Balor spoke to me and offered me great power to turn away from my Patron, the Morrigan"

We pushed forward into what turned out the be the Do-a-deer Tomb. It was a vault of forgotten power, and its treasures were manifold. As Eli, I cared little for the trinkets, but when I saw Slick’s face as he recovered a suit of spider-silk armor, I understood. This wasn't just loot; it was his lineage restored. The piercing attacks that had so often threatened to turn him into a pin-cushion would now deflect off that silvery, resilient silk.... that was nice, but the fact that he, Erasmus Do-a-deer held this items restored to their rightful owner. That was what was really important.

It was a good victory. A decisive win that made the heavy, superfluous weight of my own insides feel, for a glorious moment, a little easier to ignore. We were wounded, but we were ready for whatever came next.

As Slick turned to depart Do-a-deer Tomb, the atmosphere thickened again, not with brimstone this time, but with cold, terrible divinity. A woman appeared—beautiful, regal, and radiating pure menace. This was Lolth, the Spider Queen, demanding tribute for raiding her domain.

She insisted only a true son of Do-a-deer could take the treasures. Slick, ever the pragmatist, offered his own blood for a ritual draw, but she simply sneered and struck.

“It is not about blood purity, mortal,” she hissed, “but about sacrifice. You will pay the price for taking my champion’s gifts.”

Cokolkhan immediately reacted to the godly threat, his grotesque powers surging. He and Bruce, the nightmarish creature—a cat with four eyes and too many tails—to fight by our side. It was a bizarre, mutated defense, but it offered a precious few seconds of distraction.

Then, Lolth unleashed her real power: a Neutralizing Field. All magic sputtered and died. The cat vanished. My Haste faded. Nix’s cantrips went cold. We knew, instantly and absolutely, that we would lose. This was not a fight; it was an execution.

“Retreat! Now!” I yelled, pushing Laika toward the only viable exit.

As we scrambled back the way we came, Lolth’s rage manifested. She blocked the main passage with a wall of impossible rockfall—the very passage Nix had planned to Dimension Door us through. Now, without magic, we were trapped until we could take two long rests and regenerate enough spell slots for the journey. We were forced into the deeper, uncharted tunnels.... but as we fled, something stopped her from pursuing and for that we were grateful.

Our retreat led us into what could only be the lower hive of the Underdark. Laika and Slick, grimly leading the way, signaled ahead. Mind Flayers.

Nix, though still drained, attempted to deploy his specialty. He wove a spell of magical Darkness, attempting to cloak our passage. It was a desperate gambit and an uncomfortable one for while we could not see through the magical darkness, the mind flayers could sense our presence.

"Quietly now," I whispered, the absurdity of my condition nagging at me, "My brain is one of the few organs I need."

Then came the rustle, the unmistakable sound of a failed approach. Nix’s Stealth roll, a 19, still wasn't enough to fool the psychic hunters. He knew the risk immediately and dispelled the darkness, revealing the horrors of tentacles seeking and locking on to targets. The Mind Flayers reacted instantly, unleashing a wave of pure psychic pain: Mind Blast.

I felt the wave of crushing force, but through sheer will—or perhaps the unshakeable foundation of my holy oath—I was spared the worst of it. The same held true for the others. But Nix… the supposed protection of his patron was utterly absent. He stood, stunned and incapacitated, his face locked in a rictus of silent agony. Before I could even raise my axe, one of the creatures was upon him.

The Mind Flayer clamped its grotesque tentacles onto my friend’s face. Fifty-five of his fifty-six remaining hit points evaporated in a hideous, psychic feast. Nix was a heartbeat from death.It was unacceptable. My oath, my duty—they demanded action. Ignoring the screaming, superfluous ballast in my gut, I poured every ounce of speed and divinity I had left into the moment.

In two frantic strides I covered the space between us, my body screaming with the exertion. Hew rose, crackling with blinding yellow light. I focused all my remaining divine power into a single, overwhelming strike: Thunderous Smite.

The axe slammed into the Mind Flayer's head. The force was tremendous. The creature was blasted backward, flying across the cavern like a discarded doll. It hit the rock wall with a sickening crunch. As I stood over Nix’s unconscious body, panting, Hew still humming with spent power. I didn't know if the thing was dead, but it was away from my friend.

“Cokolkhan! Laika! I need healing on him now,” I yelled, but there was little they could do for him, so they destroyed the Mind Flayers, Cokolkhan attempting to protect the final one at the end, hoping in some peculiar way to keep it as a pet?  I do not know.

I had barely staggered back from the Mind Flayer encounter when a fresh wave of heat hit me, thick with the stench of brimstone and hatred. I didn't need to turn around. It was the Balor. He Who Laughs Last was back, fully regenerated, and dodging Laika's boomerang. The creature’s return sent a spike of pure, desperate adrenaline through my veins. Nix, utterly defenseless, was still stunned and slumped on the ground, his mind shattered by the psychic assault. Normally, his magics had proven useful against such creatures, but this time it would be rapier, bolt and axe that we used.

"We have to move! Laika, lead us to a choke point!" I roared.

My duty was immediate: protect my allies. I didn't hesitate; I hefted Nix's limp body—a considerable weight, even for a Tiefling—and began to retreat. Laika and Slick became a frantic, fighting rearguard, firing bolts, lunging forward with rapier and making swift, surgical strikes, desperately buying us time. The plan was clear: find a tunnel too small for the massivel demon to follow.

But the Balor was too fast, its rage propelling it. It was closing the distance quickly, its flaming whip tearing through the air, sending sparks and fiery flatulence echoing through the stone halls.

“We can’t outrun it!” Slick shouted, dodging a swipe that charred the rock inches from his head, the spider-silk armor seemed to grant him some bit of reprieve from the heat this creature exuded, but the hair on his sword arm was singed, curls of smoke raising upward.

I had to drop Nix. I gently lowered him against the wall and turned, gripping Hew, I focused solely on the axe.

I charged, channeling my rising desperate fury into a single, overwhelming attack. Hew crashed into the Balor, delivering a might blow amplified by a desperate, incandescent Divine Smite. It was a blow worthy of a king, a blinding flash of holy white energy.

It slowed the fiend, but it didn't stop it.

The Balor's subsequent attack was swift, merciless, and final. Its great whip cracked around me, dropping me instantly. I fell, my armor clattering against the stone, the demon’s fiery presence overwhelming my very breath. The heat was scorching, threatening to consume me utterly. My vision tunneled into a red, agonizing haze. I was done, defeated.

But just as the fire was about to claim me, a strange sensation pulled at my legs. It was Nix, he'd shaken off the effects of the mind flayers and had channeled the Steward's Seal. He had found a fragment of focus through sheer desperation. The Seal’s telekinetic power enveloped my body and dragged me—my heavy armor, my axe, my superfluous organs and all—out of the Balor’s lethal fiery halo and into the relative safety of the shadows.

With the demon momentarily distracted, Nix fed me the health draught of superior healing, bringing me back from the threshold of death. I was shaken, but alive.

“He will not laugh last,” I swore, climbing back to my feet, "Fight me!"

Laika, Cokolkhan, and Slick—seeing Nix and me both standing—redoubled their efforts, their morale restored. But this was my fight now. My life had been saved by a friend who was supposed to be helpless. I would not squander that sacrifice. I closed with the Balor, the speed and power returning, channeled by righteous rage. Hew found its mark again and again until with one last, glorious swing, the Balor, battered by the sustained effort of the entire party and stunned by my final, vengeful attack, finally exploded in a definitive, billowing cloud of smoke.

We had survived the vengeance of a demon, saved by the very friend I had been sworn to carry. We had faced the highest highs and lowest lows, and through loyalty, we had triumphed. We were scarred, but whole. Now, we just needed those two long rests.

As we finally began to ascend the tunnel that lead us very close to the Old Hag of the Sewers, it was Laika who broke the silence. "Do you hear that?" she whispered, her hand immediately going to her boomerang.

It was a chorus of ratlings—the intelligent, mutated vermin that plague this city—their voices sharp and nasty. They were completely unaware of our presence, giving us a disturbing look into their low-level discourse. We crouched, listening to the prophecy of the gutters.

“...not so smart, now, eh?” one squeaked, followed by the clatter of a small object.

“Gave up the shiny red thing…” another chimed in, presumably referring to the Steward’s Seal that Nix now carried.

“The Rat God will know.”

“The Rat Prince will be King! He will eat the whole world!”

I exchanged a worried glance with Cokolkhan. The Rat Prince. Another petty king staking a claim in the ruins, but their talk of eating the world was a disturbing echo of the chaos we fight every day. It was a vile little piece of intelligence we carried with us as we finally reached the light.

As we emerged, the Hooded Lantern's found us, apparently summoned by Cokolkhan blasting a horn while I was down and out. They led us to the Garrison where we rested and recuperated.

After the terror of the Underdark and the final, welcome purging of the delerium at the Garrison, the journey to Emberwood Village felt like a necessary pause, though a brief one. At the Bark and Buzzard, the local gossip was loud: the Queen of Thieves was missing, her gangs in disarray. Chaos on the streets meant one less immediate threat, but new ones were already taking root.

It was there, drinking watered-down ale and listening to the low murmurs, that I pieced together the final, sickening link. A name kept circulating: Rickard Steelfang, a name associated with the Smithy on the Scar Smithy on the Scar and whispered to be a Loup Garou—a true, natural-born werewolf.

The fragments of memory, the cold case of my half-elven mother’s murder, all clicked into place with brutal clarity. Steelfang. He had killed her. The vengeance I sought against Elias Drexel had been satisfied, but a deeper, more personal justice remained undone. This man, this monster, was responsible for snatching my mother from the world.

My resolve hardened, and the party, blessedly loyal, followed my lead. We traveled to the Scar and there we found them near the ruined smithy: a group of rough-looking characters and a pack of formidable hounds, gathered around a sputtering fire. The air itself felt thick with anticipation, the quiet tension of hunters waiting for their prey.

We halted on the edge of the firelight’s reach. This was not a negotiation; it was an ambush, though it was unclear who was ambushing whom.

Laika, our shadow, was the first to move. She melted away, using the natural camouflage of the ruins and her Gloom Stalker and Rogue abilities to reach a vantage point. Her mission was simple: listen for anything that confirmed Steelfang’s presence.

We waited in silence. The fire crackled; the hounds shifted restlessly. Then, a cloud drifted from the face of the moon. As the eerie, silver light bathed the scene, Laika returned, moving faster than her usual stealthy pace.

"He's there," she whispered, her voice tight, avoiding eye contact. "It's him. Something about the way he moved… I didn't like the way he looked in that light."

The Loup Garou knew we were here. Immediately, the hounds surged forward, powerful creatures running with their noses to the ground, sniffing the wind to confirm our location. Then, a gravelly voice—calm and chilling—carried from the fire.

"Well, well. Guests have arrived. Don't be shy. Come, join us for a drink." It was an invitation laced with contempt.

Slick, ever pragmatic, tensed. "That’s not a good idea, Eli. He knows we’re here. Any approach is a trap." We held our ground, refusing to step into the killing zone of the firelight.

It was Nix who broke the standoff. His mind, fully recovered from the psychic blast, found an outlet in pure, bizarre offense. He fixed his strange eyes on one of the sniffing wolves and, with a flick of his wrist and a burst of Warlock power, delivered his insult.

"That moonlight night is such a bore,

You're hairy form smells just as poor!"

The targeted wolf yelped, confused and momentarily stunned by the magical assault of Vicious Mockery. The others looked toward the sound, their hackles rising. The game of patience was over. Vengeance was about to begin.

The other hounds snarled, and the men around the fire shifted, their forms elongating and twisting with impossible speed. We weren't facing ruffians and wolves; we were fighting a pack of full-fledged Werewolves.

The melee erupted. Nix, with a dramatic flourish that belied the terror of the moment, drew the flaming sword he'd acquired from the Balor and fought shoulder-to-shoulder with Slick and me, the heat of his blade and the cold steel of Hew working in concert. Slick was a blur, his new spider-silk armor shrugging off their initial claws and teeth with a muted thud that should have been reassuring, but wasn't.

We were making good progress, but then Nix’s voice cut through the clamor, sharp with panic.

“Eli, they’re healing! They’re closing their wounds! Does anyone have silver weapons.”

That chilling realization—that our blows were only temporary—spurred Nix to change tactics. He thrust his sword point into the ground and channeled a different kind of power, a buzzing, psychic storm. He cast Synaptic Static. The magical backlash slammed into the transformed figures, disrupting their coordination and slowing the werewolves’ movements. Where before they attacked with primal speed, now their movements were more clumsy.

The momentary reprieve allowed us to breathe, but it wasn't enough to stop the true monster. Rickard Steelfang, the Loup Garou, was a terrifying blur of muscle and rage. He targeted me—the biggest threat, the one in gleaming armor—and with a terrifying leap, he was upon me.  At first, I held strong, raising my Skymetal Shield to deflecting the initial mauling and bringing Hew around in a fierce uppercut. But my true attention was on the fight around us.

I felt Nix jostle behind me, using my own body as a barricade—a necessary, but vulnerable, position. Just as the momentum of the fight seemed to stall, I saw Cokolkhan—who had been using his own strange, corrupted magic—make a decisive move. For he apparently was the only one with Silver. He threw a handful of silver coins toward Nix.

In a brilliant flash of Warlock power and telekinesis, Nix touched the Steward’s Seal. The coins lifted into the air, shimmering arcs of pure silver magic. They began to home in on the werewolves, dealing devastating, magical death blows that bypass the creatures’ terrible regeneration. The pack screamed as the pure silver energy of each coin found its mark.

But the Loup Garou was no ordinary werewolf. The barrage of silver shrapnel only glanced off his thick pelt. He redoubled his efforts, a true beast overwhelming me with  sheer strength. He slammed his body into mine, and my shield, my armor, and my strength failed. I was thrown back onto the cold, hard ground. Hew skittered away, and the shadow of the Loup Garou loomed over me, its foul breath hot and heavy, ready to end the conflict he snapped, tearing at my armor again and again.

Session End.