Session 36

They stepped through the portal onto a broken landscape.

Shrieking gusts of hot wind slammed into them the moment their boots touched the dry, cracked ground. Miasmic clouds roiled across a ravaged wasteland of shattered rock, bleached bones, and jagged metal half‑buried in the dust. The air tasted of sulphur and tar, coating their tongues with bitterness.

“Well,” Brabara said, squinting into the haze, “this is exactly as ghastly as Malaina promised. How are we supposed to find the Red Belvedere in this?”

“Maybe we’ll see something from up there,” Xalen said, already moving forward.

They followed him to the cliff’s edge.

“Is that a road?” Brabara pointed at a pale line cutting through the valley below.

“It certainly looks that way,” Ebyn said.

“I concur,” Secondus added.

“Now there’s a surprise,” Xalen muttered.

“Is there a problem?” Ebyn asked.

Xalen’s gaze flicked between Ebyn and Secondus. Apart from their clothing, they were indistinguishable. “You two have been agreeing with each other all day. Maybe we only need both of you to speak when one of you has something different to add.”

Secondus frowned. “You would like me to remain silent?”

“No,” Xalen said, jabbing a finger at Ebyn. “Just stop repeating everything he says.”

“I see,” Secondus said, tapping his chin. “Given that my experiences have only recently diverged from Ebyn’s, it is unlikely I will have a unique perspective. My contributions may indeed be redundant. I will refrain from conversation unless addressed directly.”

Xalen blinked. “Okay. Thank you… I guess.”

“There is no sun here,” Seknafret murmured, scanning the sky.

A foul haze smothered the heavens. A dim, ambient glow swelled along the horizon, a grim mockery of sunset.

“There could be a sun somewhere up there,” Ebyn said. “It’s impossible to see through those clouds.”

Seknafret shook her head. “There isn’t. I’m certain.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Xalen asked.

“Not immediately,” she said. “But I don’t want to stay here any longer than we must.”

“The road, then?” Brabara said.

Xalen nodded. “We can get down there easily enough. And we don’t have a better option.”

“Agreed,” Ebyn said.

They descended the cliff without trouble and reached the arrow‑straight road.

“Which way?” Xalen asked.

“Left,” Brabara said immediately.

“Why?” Ebyn asked.

Brabara shrugged. “Why not?”

No one had a better idea, so they turned left and began walking. Each step was taken with caution – eyes scanning the dust, the sky, the jagged horizon – waiting for something to lunge, swoop, or crawl out of the wasteland.

They trudged in silence for hours before Brabara raised a hand.

“Can you hear that?”

A low rumble echoed behind them. The bass note grew louder, joined by high‑pitched metallic shrieks. Out of the red dust burst an angular metal vehicle ten feet tall, its spiked wheels grinding the earth. Hellfire spewed from pipes along its sides, and tortured screams vibrated through its metal frame.

But it wasn’t the machine that stole their breath.

It was the crew.

As the vehicle slowed, figures clung to its sides and upper rails. Lithe, winged shapes with skin like polished obsidian or molten bronze. Their armour was a patchwork of scavenged plates and infernal craftsmanship, each piece shaped to accentuate rather than conceal. Their eyes glowed like embers, and their smiles were sharp enough to cut.

A winged silhouette leapt down, landing lightly on the road. She moved with a dancer’s grace, wings folding behind her like a velvet cloak.

“Hello, mortals,” she said in flawless Common, her voice warm, amused, and dangerous.

“Hello,” Seknafret replied, recovering first. “We’re not looking for trouble.”

The winged woman laughed – a rich, musical sound that somehow made the hairs on their arms rise. “Nor are we. At least… not yet. May I approach?”

“You may,” Seknafret said, gripping her staff.

The figure stepped closer. Humanoid, but with leathery wings, curling horns, and long red hair spilling from beneath a metal skullcap. Her plate armour was sculpted, elegant, almost ceremonial – a warrior’s attire designed to intimidate and entice in equal measure. A wicked sword hung at her hip, its blade humming faintly with heat.

“I am Nykaia,” she said. “Boss of the scav vehicle Venatrix.” She patted the infernal machine affectionately. The crew above whistled and clicked their claws in greeting, a strangely harmonious sound.

“How did you know we were mortals?” Ebyn asked.

Nykaia smiled, revealing perfect, predatory teeth. “You have a stench about you. Impossible to miss. Mortals always smell of hope and fear. It’s… charming.”

“Why stop here?” Brabara asked, straightening to her full height.

“Because of you,” Nykaia said, pointing at her. “We saw your bulk and figured you’d be useful. You and your crew.” Her eyes flicked over each of them in turn, assessing, appraising, appreciating. “Strong. Fresh. Unclaimed.”

Xalen swallowed.

“And what do we get out of this?” Brabara asked.

“You help us, and we drop you off wherever you need to be. Unless you plan on walking these wastes forever.” Nykaia’s wings fluttered lazily, stirring the dust. “Trust me, you won’t last long on foot.”

“What do you need help with?” Ebyn asked.

“We’re on a raid,” Nykaia said. “Got word of a certain package being transported nearby. Could use your help securing it.”

“What kind of package?” Xalen asked.

“Something valuable,” Nykaia purred. “If you five focus on the goristro carrying it, my crew and I will deal with the soldiers riding on its back.”

“What’s a goristro?” Seknafret asked.

“Big minotaur demon,” Nykaia replied. “Other demons use them as pack animals. Strong, stupid, and mean.”

“And what would you have done if you hadn’t found us?” Brabara asked.

Nykaia shrugged. “The Venatrix could take it down. But not without damage. With you, we get the prize and avoid repairs. Win‑win. So, do we have a deal?”

Brabara glanced around the group. Each of them nodded.

“It’s not like we have a better option,” Xalen muttered.

“Fine,” Brabara said. “We help you secure the package, and in return you take us to the Red Belvedere.”

Nykaia let out a low whistle. “The Red Belvedere? Fancy.” Her eyes gleamed with interest. “You’re chasing something important.”

“What exactly is this package?” Seknafret pressed.

“You’ll find out,” Nykaia said with a wink. “For now, welcome aboard the Venatrix.”

Behind her, the devilish crew leaned forward eagerly, wings rustling, eyes bright with curiosity and hunger.

---

The crew of the Venatrix consisted of Nykaia and two more winged devils – Kypris, the engineer and driver, and Mykale, the weapons specialist. All three were cut from the same infernal cloth: beautiful in a predatory way, wings glossy as lacquered leather, armour sculpted to both protect and entice. They moved with the easy confidence of creatures who had spent centuries prowling the wasteland, harvesting scrap, raiding demon convoys, and stealing anything not nailed down.

They rode the infernal war machine for nearly an hour before Kypris eased back on the throttle. The engine’s tortured wail softened to a growl.

“We’re close,” Nykaia said, her wings twitching with anticipation. “You five focus on the big one. We’ll take the demons riding it. Our package will be up there with the guards, and we want it alive. So, no fancy fireballs or ice storms, or the deal’s off.”

“It’s just over the next ridge,” Mykale added, slotting a wicked harpoon into the rear-mounted launcher. The barbed head glowed faintly, as though hungry.

“Everyone ready?” Nykaia called.

“Ready,” Mykale said, sighting down the weapon.

“Ready,” Kypris echoed from behind the wheel, her tail flicking with excitement.

“A moment,” Seknafret said. She withdrew a hummingbird feather and traced a sigil around Xalen’s eyes, whispering arcane words. Dark lines bloomed across his skin – elegant, sharp, almost ceremonial.

Xalen blinked. “Whoa. What is this?”

“It will help you strike and dodge more effectively,” Seknafret said.

Xalen grinned. “This is amazing. Thank you.”

“Ready now?” Nykaia asked.

“Ready,” Brabara said, hefting her hammer.

Nykaia nodded. “Take us in, Kypris.”

The engine screamed like a choir of tormented souls as the Venatrix surged forward. It crested the ridge at speed, caught air for a dozen yards, and slammed down hard, the three devils whooping with exhilaration.

Thunderous footsteps shook the ground. A horned, red‑furred demon over twenty feet tall lumbered across the wasteland, flanked by two winged fiends. A tented palanquin swayed on its back, crawling with demonic soldiers.

Mykale fired. The harpoon streaked through the air and impaled one of the flying demons, pinning it to a boulder with a wet crunch.

Ebyn and Xalen vaulted from the back of the vehicle. Xalen’s arrows peppered the second flyer while Ebyn hurled a firebolt into the goristro’s flank – the flames licking harmlessly across its thick hide.

Kypris swerved past the towering beast. Nykaia launched into the air, wings snapping open as she descended upon the palanquin. Three swift slashes of her sword and two demons fell screaming, a third staggered back bleeding.

Brabara leapt from the Venatrix and landed on the goristro’s back with a crash. She seized two soldiers and hurled them over the side like sacks of grain.

“Focus on the big one!” Nykaia shouted. “I can handle these!”

Brabara nodded, then her body swelled, doubling in size. She winked at Nykaia and jumped off the goristro, landing squarely atop the two demons she’d thrown down.

Nykaia squealed with delight. “Witness Brabara! Crusher of demons!”

The demons beneath Brabara writhed, slashing at her even as she rolled to her feet and brought her hammer down in a brutal arc.

Seknafret remained on the Venatrix, firing eldritch blasts that hammered the remaining flyer backward. The creature shrieked in frustration, unable to close the distance.

Ebyn tried another spell on the goristro. Again, nothing. “Shit!”

Brabara crushed one demon with an overhead swing, then pivoted and smashed the second’s skull with her backswing.

“The big one!” Nykaia yelled, cutting down another soldier. “Focus on the big one!”

Brabara gave a thumbs‑up just as the goristro turned its massive head toward her.

Mykale fired again, but the goristro twisted and the harpoon buried itself in the ground beside Brabara.

Seknafret and Xalen finished off the last flyer and turned their attention to the towering demon.

“Brabara!” Ebyn called from above. “Don’t fight my spell!”

Brabara nodded. Ebyn slipped a shaving of liquorice root beneath his tongue and touched the weave. Magic surged into Brabara, quickening her movements.

“Ohhh,” she breathed. “That’s nice.”

The goristro lowered its head, eyes glowing like coals. Steam hissed from its nostrils as it charged.

Brabara swung her hammer to intercept, but the beast slammed into her, one horn hooking beneath her arm and flinging her twenty feet into a boulder.

“Urgh!” she groaned, forcing herself upright. “That really hurt.”

The goristro charged again, but this time Brabara blurred aside, Ebyn’s magic lending her impossible speed.

Kypris and Mykale abandoned the Venatrix and joined Nykaia atop the palanquin. The goristro bucked and twisted, but the three devils moved with perfect, predatory grace, cutting down the remaining soldiers with ease.

With the lesser demons dead, the group focused everything on the goristro. Brabara became a whirlwind of steel and fury, her hammer smashing bone and tendon with every strike.

At last, the massive demon collapsed.

Nykaia, Kypris, and Mykale threw back their heads and unleashed ululating howls – a triumphant, primal chorus that echoed across the wasteland.

“You were magnificent,” Nykaia said, landing beside Brabara. “I knew we chose well, Demon Crusher.”

Brabara gasped for breath, the haste spell’s backlash hitting her hard. “No… ahh… no problem.”

Kypris and Mykale dragged a large cage from the palanquin. Inside, a horse‑like creature with white fur and a gilded mane trembled, its eyes wide with terror.

“That’s the package?” Xalen said, landing beside it. “A unicorn?”

Kypris patted the cage proudly. “Yep. Worth a fortune in soul coins to the right buyer.”

The unicorn fixed its wide, luminous eyes on Xalen. “Don’t let them take me,” it said in lilting Elvish. “They will kill me.”

Xalen flinched. He knew unicorns were intelligent, but hearing one speak – here, in Hell – rattled him. “What are you going to do with it?” he asked.

“Sell it,” Nykaia said.

“Sure,” Xalen said. “But what will the buyer do with it?”

Nykaia shrugged. “Kill it, I reckon. The horn’s a rare ritual ingredient.”

“My name is Sterling,” the unicorn said, again in Elvish. “Please. You cannot let them take me. Please. Save me.”

“What’s it saying?” Brabara asked, her breathing finally steadying.

“It’s begging for freedom,” Ebyn said. “But we need to remember where we are. Now is not the time for stupid heroics.”

Brabara shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel. “This isn’t right, Ebyn. We can’t let this magnificent creature be sold and butchered.”

“What if we buy it from you?” Seknafret offered. “We have gold.”

Mykale snorted.

“Your gold means nothing here,” Nykaia said. “We’d take a hundred soul coins for the beast. Nothing less.”

“What are soul coins?” Ebyn asked.

“The true currency of the lower planes,” Nykaia said. “Commerce, engines, the Blood War – everything runs on them. Do you have a hundred?”

“We do not,” Ebyn admitted.

“We can’t just do nothing,” Brabara said. “It’s not right.”

Nykaia, Kypris, and Mykale each stepped back, their posture shifting – wings half‑spread, hands drifting toward weapons.

“Think carefully, Demon Crusher,” Nykaia said. “We made a deal. Your help in exchange for transport to the Red Belvedere. It would be a shame if we had to renegotiate.”

Ebyn stepped forward smoothly. “You’re absolutely correct, Nykaia. Would you allow us a moment to discuss the situation privately? We intend to honour our agreement.”

Nykaia studied him, then nodded. “Take your moment. We’ll ready the package.”

The devils looped chains around the cage and began dragging it toward the Venatrix, leaving the five companions alone.

“You’re not suggesting we let them take the unicorn,” Brabara said. “I won’t agree to that.”

“But we already did,” Ebyn said.

“That was before we knew what the package was,” Seknafret said. “I would never have agreed otherwise.”

“Yet here we are,” Ebyn said. “And there is more at stake than one unicorn.”

Brabara’s jaw tightened. “Don’t you dare start with the multiverse again. I know what’s at stake. It still doesn’t make this right.” She glanced at the devils. “There’s only three of them. We could take them.”

“And then what?” Ebyn snapped. “Steal their war machine and drive around Hell hoping to stumble across a friendly local? It’s suicide.”

Brabara shrugged. “Better than doing nothing.”

“No,” Ebyn said. “A group of mortals in an infernal war machine will attract attention we cannot survive. I will not sacrifice any of you on a fool’s errand.”

“Then what?” Brabara demanded. “Because I am not leaving that creature to die screaming.”

Ebyn hesitated, then exhaled. “There is something. It won’t stop the unicorn from being killed… but it will save its soul.”

Brabara’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

“I can create a clone of the creature.”

Brabara scoffed. “I doubt they’ll wait twelve hours while you carve a horse out of ice.”

Ebyn cuffed her lightly on the back of the head. “Don’t be stupid. I mean real magic. The most powerful magic I know.”

Seknafret inhaled sharply. “A wish.”

“Exactly,” Ebyn said. “I can replicate the clone spell. The new body will take months to grow, but when the original dies, its soul will transfer. It will live again.”

“It’s a good idea,” Xalen said.

“And it will spare it the memory of its death,” Seknafret added.

Brabara blinked. “What?”

“It won’t remember being killed,” Ebyn said. “You dolt.”

Brabara considered that, then nodded. “Fine. I can live with that. Thank you.”

They returned to the Venatrix. The devils paused their work, hands resting casually on weapon hilts.

The unicorn stopped struggling and watched them approach.

“We have reached an agreement,” Ebyn said.

“What say you?” Nykaia asked.

“We will honour the original terms,” Ebyn said.

“Cowards,” the unicorn spat.

“That is good,” Nykaia said. “We leave for the Red Belvedere once the cage is secured.”

“Just one thing,” Ebyn said. “Our agreement was transport in exchange for our help. Correct?”

Nykaia’s eyes narrowed. “Correct.”

“Then allow me to cast a spell on the unicorn. To protect its soul after death.”

“What spell?” Kypris asked.

“A clone spell,” Ebyn said. “So, the creature may live again.”

“You’re saying there’d be two of them?” Mykale asked, greed lighting her eyes.

“Not for many months,” Ebyn said.

Nykaia studied him, then the others, lingering on Brabara’s rigid stance. “Fine. But if your spell costs us our prize, the deal is off. And you can walk to the Red Belvedere, assuming you survive.”

“You will have your prize,” Ebyn said.

“How long?” Nykaia asked.

“Only a moment. I must touch it.”

Nykaia stepped aside.

Ebyn approached the cage. “I’m sorry we can’t do more, Sterling,” he whispered in Elvish. “Fighting for you would kill us all. This way… you have a chance.”

Sterling lowered its head. “I am sorry for my harsh words. May Celestia bless you.”

Ebyn touched the unicorn and spoke the words of power.

Reality warped. For a heartbeat, two Sterlings stood side by side. The second flickered, then vanished into a crystal vessel of shimmering liquid that materialized beside the cage.

Seknafret stepped forward, opened her portable hole, and lowered the vessel inside.

“Thank you,” Ebyn said. “We are ready to depart for the Red Belvedere.”

---

According to Kypris, the trip would take about twelve hours, so the group settled in for a long rest. The Venatrix devoured the blasted terrain with ease, its spiked wheels grinding over rock and bone as the miles flew past. What would have taken weeks on foot passed in hours, and for that alone they were grateful the devils had honoured their deal.

The steady rhythm of the engine – a tortured, throbbing heartbeat – eventually lulled them to sleep. Secondus kept silent watch while the others drifted off.

It wasn’t long before the nightmare found them again.

 

Vecna stood over a divining pool, its waters swirling with secrets, the black obelisk looming beside him like a sentinel of doom. The pool’s magic was bound to the obelisk, allowing him to peer into the past. For years, his cults across the multiverse had gathered secrets for him – fuel for his growing power.

A scene formed in the water.

Gauntlgrym. An ancient dwarven city, long abandoned. A dwarf, Athrogate, stood before a dormant forge while a vampire whispered in his ear. Athrogate’s eyes glazed… then cleared. He shoved the vampire away.

Vecna plucked a secret from the air and dropped it into the pool. The scene reversed. This time, Athrogate did not resist the vampire’s thrall. He activated the forge. Ancient fires roared to life, melting stone into lava. Pressure built. Mount Hotenow erupted in a cataclysm that devastated Neverwinter. His first change was successful.

The scene shifted.

A queen’s bedchamber. Midwives. A priest. A birth. A boy was born, heir to the throne of Galifar. Vecna added another secret. The scene rewound. This time, the child was a girl. King Jarot would die with a female heir. A century of bitter war would follow.

The scene shifted again.

Istar. A high temple overlooking a bustling city. Dragons circled above, knights riding their backs. The Kingpriest knelt in prayer, seeking divine guidance. A radiant messenger appeared, urging him to abandon the ritual. He agrees. Vecna uses a secret to twist the vision. The scene reversed. This time, no messenger came. The Kingpriest proceeded with the ritual, an act that would trigger the Cataclysm and drive the gods from Krynn.

Another shift.

A wizard’s tower in the Suel Imperium. Xolan, a powerful mage, cast a divination seeking guidance after years of war with the Baklunish. The spell advised peace. Another secret is added. The scene rewound. This time, the spell warned of betrayal. It guided Xolan to seek Xodast’s Tome – the first step toward the Invoked Devastation, which would annihilate the Baklunish… and provoke the Rain of Colourless Fire that destroyed the Suel.

Vecna stepped back from the pool, smug satisfaction on his face. The power worked. His patience had been rewarded. But the cost was steep; he would need a vast hoard of secrets before attempting his greatest act.

The multiverse would be his.

 

The nightmare ended, and the group awoke with a shared sense of dread. Four worlds. Four catastrophes. All triggered by Vecna, not to achieve anything, but simply to prove he could.

The scale of it was staggering. The cruelty, the indifference, the sheer scope of the destruction… all in service of one being’s hunger for power.

They had seen evil before. But nothing like this.

Now they knew, without doubt, that Vecna had both the will and the means to reshape existence. This was no longer a vague threat or possibility. It was a certainty, unless they stopped him.

---

“We’re about an hour away,” Nykaia called back when she noticed they were awake.

“Will you be stopping there?” Seknafret asked.

“No,” Nykaia said. “We need to get our prize to the Scav Market.”

Seknafret winced, remembering the unicorn caged below. “Right. Thanks.”

The group gathered their gear and waited.

After a moment, Ebyn leaned toward Xalen. “I have an idea,” he murmured.

Xalen tilted his head. “Go on.”

“They said gold is worthless here. Soul coins are the real currency. Maybe we should try to get some before we reach the casino.”

Xalen blinked. “From where?”

“From them,” Ebyn said. “Nykaia mentioned they use soul coins for fuel. There must be a stash somewhere on this machine.”

Xalen frowned. “Do you know where?”

Ebyn shook his head. “Could be below deck. Could be on one of them.”

“That’s not helpful,” Xalen whispered. “Hard to steal something when we don’t know where it is. And they’ll get suspicious if we start asking.”

“Hmm.” Ebyn leaned back. “You’re probably right. Maybe we ride this out and figure things out once we reach the Red Belvedere.”