Adventures in Sigil - IC - Part III [4E]

[Hzurr]

DM Post

As feelings of gloom settle across the party, Asheroth and Pavick step up to examine the painting more carefully. The creature in this often destroyed and reconstructed painting was a dark-skinned humanoid with silver eyes so brilliant they seem to leap off of the painting, and skin that seemed to shimmer with a golden translucence. As Pavick looks at the painting, the grandmaster's mind races back through the stacks of books he so often perused at his study back in Fallcrest, manuscripts on the planes and their inhabitants, and eventually he recalls a vaguely similar portrait sketched in the margins of a partial copy of the Planar Codex.

The portrait Pavick remembers is a similar dark-skinned humanoid, but with compound eyes like a fly and a thin layer of slime coating his skin rather than the golden light seen in this painting. Still, the similarities are eerie, and after a moments reflection Pavick realizes that this figure in the Painting was the archangel Triel. Triel, who was cursed along with all other devils for their treachery and became Baalzebub (the figure Pavick remembered from his studies). Hundreds of years ago, during an infernal civil war (sometimes called the Reckoning of Hell), Baalzebub was cursed by Asmodeus into his current slug-like form and renamed Baalzebul.

"Hideous, isn't it?" calls out a voice from the doorway, and you turn to see the slug Archduke himself enter the room. From behind him, a handsome man (save for a pair of dark pointed horns) calls out in a booming voice "Presenting his excellencey Baalzebul; Archduke of Maladomini, Lord of the Seventh, the Lord of Lies" before retiring back into the ship.

In addition to Baalzebul, two other figures step into the room. One is a thin, fanged humanoid covered in green scales and loose fitting robes that takes the seat on Baalzebul's left. The other is a rather demure and surprisingly subserviant looking female devil with crimson skin and curved horns of ivory in a high-backed black dress. She enters the room, and quickly takes a seat on Baalzebul's right, violet eyes darting around the room, taking in every detail.

Baalzebul, slithering up next to Pavick and Asheroth, stares at the picture, bulbous eyes glazing over as he stares at the painting of the angelic creature."I find such decoration tasteless and perverse, but it is important to keep reminders of the depths from which one has climbed..." The slug lord extends a stumpy hand, loose skin dangling and dripping slime towards the table. "Sit, let us talk."

The Lord of the Seventh moves up to the table, unable to actually sit down, and turns to glance at the woman seated next to him in the black dress."Baftis, the files?" The woman nods, reaches into a pocket, and produces several sheets of parchment and hands them to Baalzebul quickly, with a slight bow, and Baazebul begins flipping through them. "Normally, it takes a bit longer for us to gather information on unexpected guests, but it seems you come with quite a reputation." He glances at the page. "We have the youngest general the feywild has seen in two millennium, with a rather impressive battle record..." he glances at Aramil with a nod of approval before continuing. "One of Corellon's whipping boys that caused quite a ruckus for my guests earlier and killed a certain Incubus Dellarin." his glance shifts to Eltain for a moment before the slug-lord spits on the floor.

"Hmm...what's this? Silver Dragons? A prophesy about the Prince of Frost?" Baalzebul gives a low laugh as his sickly-green eyes examines Lucan. "You'll be one to watch, that is certain." He continues flipping through the parchment, and turns to face Pavick. "Hmm...'grandmaster'...'beholder'...wait, what's this? 'Collapsed a cavern on a city of Fomorians while leading two hundred gnomes out of the feydark'?" Baalzebul gives another laugh. "About time someone put those insane bug-eyed giants in their place."

Finally he looks at Asheroth. "And here we have one of Mephistopheles' lackies. Let's see..." He glances down the page. "Made a pact and sold your soul, did we? Was this what that little show was for? Try and impress the big dark prince of the frozen hell so he'll give you your soul back? Pitiful." The fat tongue comes out as Baalzebul chuckles to himself. "Of all the devils to tie your soul to, you could not have chosen more poorly."

At this point, Baalzebul has to stop talking as he laughs uproariously to himself. The female devil, Baftis, does not join in, but the scaled humanoid next to Aramil gives a hissing laugh.

"And finally, there's you. The two bulbous eyes lock on the Shepherd, and the laughter in the room immediately stops. "Tell me, **********, how have you fallen in with this lot?" As Baalzebul speaks, the swarm of flies that constantly swarmed around Baalzebul's head began buzzing in a fervor, and whatever the archduke called Shep was distorted and undecipherable from the buzzing sound.

Baalzebul sits back before Shep can answer, and looks over all of the party. "Actually, the more pressing question is why you all are here at all. Your deal with Zorella was done, this has nothing to do with your little war in the feywild. Why are you here?"

In the back of Asheroth's mind, he can feel a slight tingling that lets him know that the imp he sent out has found something, and is seeking him out.