The Raccoons prepared carefully for their mission to Tartarus. In order to succeed in their negotiations with the demon lord Vaelgoroth they needed three things. First, something to offer that would pique his interest. The newly secured Black Grimoire would server for that. Second, a reason he shouldn’t simply kill them and take it. For that they relied upon preparation and subterfuge. Misaye provided them with the garments of agents of the Mercane – a powerful race of extra-planar merchants. The Mercane had enough power and influence that even a Demon Lord would hesitate to make an unnecessary enemy of them. And as strictly neutral merchants of powerful magic they were a plausible faction to be bargaining with the Grimoire. For added safety they would only have a single page from the Grimoire in their physical possession, with an imprinted talisman to summon the rest from Misaye’s safekeeping if necessary. As for rescuing the Purple Wolf without actually handing over the Grimoire… They would have to wing that one.
Misaye provided a portal to take them to Tartarus, but unlike their prior trips this portal would be one-way. She would not leave a portal to the Abyss open in her domain. They would have to find another way back. They checked with each other one more time, and then stepped into the portal…
To find themselves in the oppressive muck of Vaelshadow – in the heart of Vaelgroth’s domain.
They approached the decaying ruins of what appeared to have once been a small town. They were on high alert. While Vaelgroth would probably refrain from attacking agents of the Mercane directly, the denizens of the bog would not hesitate to ambush new prey.
And soon enough they found themselves surrounded by demons emerging from the bog.
They fought off foul Hezrou.
Demonic locust swarms.
Cultist sorcerers.
And screeching Vrock.
Eventually they came to Vaelgroth’s stronghold, an ominous dark fortress at the heart of the Bog.
The courtyard seemed surprisingly normal – if twisted and populated with demons. The guards let them enter without objection, noting that they had already seen how they handled themselves in the Bog – and would allow the Lord to deal with them.
They did not have such luck at the entrance to the Keep. A large hazy form inside calling itself “Zy’goroth” would not allow them entry until they first fetched him a “token of appreciation”… the head of a Gelugon currently crashing in the Screaming Simian Inn. An Ice Devil. Wonderful.
The Tavern was every bit the “wretched hive of scum and villainy” one might expect from such a place.
But the Devil stood out obviously from the mostly demonic clientelle. It had a few chain devils as servants, and appeared to be waiting for something. It leered down at them as they approached. Marty briefly considered making an offer of temporary alliance against the demonic guard. But as the Devil began negotiating the terms of the “contract”, he quickly thought the better of it. Best to play this straight.
The demons were enthusiastic observers, but did not interfere as they had it out with the devils.
The guard at the Keep chuckled as he allowed them entry. “Its your funeral!” He pointed down a long hallway leading towards large doors. The Hall of Lost Souls. Where the spirits of tormented captives left little doubt as the nature of the Lord of the Keep.
As they entered the audience chamber they were greeted by Vaelgroth’s Seneschal – Skalv, the Whispering Plague. The Lord himself remained silent, observing them from his throne.
The Seneschal expressed interest upon seeing the page, and then they noticed a familiar figure chained at the Lords’ feet. He brought them over when he noticed their interest.
Iban. Apparently Nezbal’s agents had once more been a step ahead of them. Iban begged them to save him, but they could not trade the Grimoire for him. It was the only leverage they had to save their world.
But rather than being returned to Vaelgroth, Iban was summarily executed! “Vaelgroth wishes to remind you that his slaves are his to do with as he wishes“.
And then the “negotation” turned serious. The Lord agreed *immediately* to the idea of exchanging the Purple Wolf for the Grimoire – considering the wolf a “useless creature”. Unfortunately this did not give them a lot of room to maneuver. He absolutely did *not* buy the suggestion of giving them the Wolf first. Or letting them see it. And he very quickly realized they were stalling him. When they refused to retrieve and turn over the Grimoire, he “invited” them to take time and reconsider..
They suddenly found themselves in a cramped cell somewhere dark and oppressive.
The initial door was not difficult to bypass, but then they came to a large chamber secured by a fiendishly complex mechanism… which locked them in as a horde of demonic beasts began to appear! The others had to desperately hold back the tide to give Hans time to figure out the infernal device so they could escape.
It did not get any easier from there. A checkpoint was guarded by a Bulezau and two Abyssal giants!.
They had to absorb an initial brutal assault of lightning.
And then it was time for a little payback…
Making their way back upstairs they found strangely human-seeming private chambers.
And then the Purple Wolf himself. And what he had to tell them… changed everything. He couldn’t open the Cage of Yinyue. No-one could. He had been able to once. He had been Yinyue’s faithful companion, long, long ago. In the beginning, when mortals had first been created, YinYue had taken a liking to them. She had given them song. She had given them magic. Some of the other gods were angry at this, thinking she was giving away what should be only theirs. The God of Violence, Korduun, had thrown his mighty spear at her. It had pierced her heart, but she couldn’t truly die. So they had caged her unconcious form to keep others away. But they took pity and allowed her faithful companion a way inside.
He had escorted several beings to the Cage since then, the last being Thalorel. And during Thalorel’s visit… something had happened. He could not remember what. But afterwards Thalorel had sealed the Cage and wiped the Wolf’s memory of how to enter. Vaelgoroth now held him just in case he one day became useful. And he stayed because it allowed him to remain hidden. Yinyue and her power would remain untouched.
But Winny quickly pointed out the flaw in this strategy. Margarethe now had Thalorel’s memories. And Nezbal knew it. Which meant that the way into Yinyue’s cage was no longer hidden… And so the Wolf agreed to accompany them, as long as they promised to permanently seal Yinyue’s cage when they were done rather than take her power for themselves. It was an easy promise to make.
Now they just needed to escape, but the only way out led back through Vaelgroth’s audience chamber…
They fought their way past his Glabrezu.
And battled his sorcerer cultists.
But then the Lord himself appeared.
They attempted to fight him, but as strong as they had grown a Demon Lord in his home domain was stronger. And the battle quickly turned against them.
They had one desperate hand left to play. Winny hit him with her most powerful mental blast. It would not hold him. It would not restrain him. But they only needed a moment….
For the Wolf to give them an escape…
He could not take them far. They found themselves in wretched tunnel under the fortress. And Vaelgroth would find them again quickly if they stayed put.
They ran for their lives, demons hot on their heels. Fleeing from the tunnels into the Bog, headed for a hidden route the Wolf had once known. A color pool – a planar rift through which they could flee to the Astral Plane. And from there to almost anywhere.
They almost made it. And then one last obstacle dropped down into their path. A dragon. One of Nezbal’s chosen. A huge White.
The battle was fierce and brutal. They were tired, hurt, and stretched thin. But there was no choice. They had to reach the pool before Vaelgroth found them.
They dove into the pool, and had to make a quick decision that could decide *everything*. Where to go? They could not return to the Academy. They weren’t at all sure how far they could *really* trust the literal Goddess of mischief and deception. Finally, they made their choice. They would return to the Library of Pakri. If anyone anywhere could shed any more light, it would be the servants of the Goddess of Knowledge herself.
Author’s Notes:
The AI really fought me on some of these. It did *not* seem to like some of the more bizarre demons, and even the rendering of the Raccoons seemed less stable than normal. Not sure how much of that was the different art style and how much was that I may have been pushing it just a little too hard.
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