The Black Shingle Fiasco II: Electric Boogaloo

[YossarianLives]

Avita's arrow strikes the creature in what you would guess to be its shoulder, though it does not flinch or make any noise; instead, the cloak comes flying off in one smooth motion.

The creature below is rather unlike anything you have ever seen. Around six feet tall and mostly humanoid, it has gangling limbs - the feet webbed, the arms ending in twisting feelers - and greyish-blue skin that seems almost plant-like in texture. Its long, slender neck ends in a pulsating ball of tissue, covered in dozens of opaque, gelatinous orbs that continuously rotate. More appendages extend from the head, small feelers that writhe with a life of their own, as if each gust of wind is a veritable orgasm of sensation. The arrow is stuck deep in its right arm, and a clear liquid leaks slowly from the wound.

The thing looks at you for a moment - or at faces you, you're not sure if it has eyes - then turns tail and sprints down the alley with surprising grace, disappearing from view behind one of the nearby houses.

[Marlowe]

Avita takes a couple of quick steps forward and holds up a pale hand. "Now. Given it's run off.
And given we have other important stuff to do quite urgently. And given I haven't seen or heard of anything like that before and have no idea what it can do...I think now's where we head in another direction and do our jobs, rather than rushing after an unknown threat with unknown powers with unknown friends lying in wait. Sound...acceptable?"

[rax]

Sarrazin turns on Avita, a look of pure bloodlust temporarily distorting his handsome features, but quickly composes himself. "Of course, as you wish... lady."

[Blackhawk748]

"As much as i would prefer to rid the world of whatever that abomination is, that does appear to be the more sound decision."

[Marlowe]

Avita's teeth briefly set at that "lady", but she keeps her eyes trained on the corner around which the thing disappeared, stringing another arrow. "We ran into a scout of theirs during the library mission--different species,
something with wings and too many apostrophes--but it behaved in a rather similar fashion. Curious. Not aggressive.
Departed post-haste when we started throwing stuff at it. Which suggests similar protocols. Which suggests it's running to fetch friends. Friends what it presumably thinks can handle us."

And then her eyes flick sideways to Sarrazin. "And much as I enjoy meeting new people and killing them as much as the next man, that would be wasting time the city doesn't have and will not be getting our job done. Now, Let's go".

[YossarianLives]

You march back through Parker's house and out into the street. Your destination is the Sage's Guild, a motley collection of scholars and academics from all over the city; while most had previously resided at the Senrish College, it was smack in the middle of Black Shingle. The survivors pooled their money to rent out a small manorhouse in Old Senra, and have been sustaining themselves ever since through tutoring and other labours long considered to be beneath them.

The walk is not short, taking you through two separate districts. You walk past grimy apartment blocks, sprawling workshops, and storefronts with their curtains drawn. Demonic invasions are not good for business, especially when both owner and customer are too scared to even step outside. The further you go, though, the signs of battle become less frequent, and soon the streets are again filled with throngs of prosperous people going about their business.

Soon, you are walking through Old Senra, the land where the city was first founded almost a millenia ago. Now it is the domain of the wealthy and affluent. Carriages rattle down the leafy avenues and huge tracts of land are set aside for the vast estates of Senra's upper crust: the old blood mixing with ambitious merchants and stockbrokers. Through the thick trees and iron fences, you occasionally catch a glimpse of an elaborate gothic mansion, all dark stone, narrows windows, arches, parapets, perhaps a gargoyle. From here, the noise and stench of the city is barely discernible, a distant buzz.

You find your way to the Sage's Guild - or at least to its gates. From the road, you cannot see much past the fence and rows of alder trees. A small gatehouse has been built into the fence, with a window facing the road. Next to this is a bell, presumably to alert the doorman, and a sign baring the words 'Senrish College: Northern Campus' written in wavy blue paint. Out of this window, leans a bored-looking gnome woman of about twenty-five.

[Blackhawk748]

"Excuse me maam" Fion says with a smile (rather odd for what everyone has seen of the man so far), "we're here to have some things analyzed"

Spoiler: Deploy the Diplo

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(1d20+9)[24]

[YossarianLives]

The gatekeeper smiles slightly, briefly glances at some papers on her desk, then shrugs and goes to unlock the gate.

Soon, you are walking down a gravel path toward the manorhouse, surrounded on both sides by alder trees, their leaves the bright green of spring, and well-trimmed grass of similar hue. The manor itself is a squat, unattractive building, likely commissioned by someone with more money than sense. Two square floors of beige bricks, a hipped roof, and the occasional window. The pathway leads straight to the front door, which is propped. Dozens of people roam the grounds and drift in and out of the house; austere scholars in flowing robes, scientists lugging all manner of strange devices, one fellow covered in golden disks, a team of grimy archaeologists who have just arrived by carriage. Some chat amicably, others argue, and a good few stumble around with their heads in a book.

Most of them pay you no more than a passing glance. But one takes notice of your party, and hurries over. Avita and Sarim recognize the round-faced young gnome immediately: Emyera, who you previously escorted into Black Shingle. She waves cheerily, and moves to shake your hands. "Avita. Sarim," she says, smiling broadly. "It's good to see you again, though I must confess, I hadn't expected to see you here. Can I help you with anything?"

[Marlowe]

Avita gives Emyera a respectful nod. "Wisdom. It's good to see you." and then, without preamble. "It appears that since this is our day off we had to uncover a plot by some locals to betray certain city items to the Demons for extremely questionable reasons--well. Not that treason and dealing with Demons isn't always questionable, but this plot looks just damn silly. However, we have some texts, diagrams, and letters which need to be deciphered and interpreted, and since these chaps are definitely dealing with dangerous forces however frelled their reasons, we need that done quite urgently. For the safety of city, state, and people".

She nods again. "Can you help? Or if not help direct us to those what can?"

[YossarianLives]

The scholar, Emyera, frowns at the floor. "That does seem like quite the jam." She looks up. "What sort of documents are these? Me and my colleagues are immensely grateful for your help earlier, and I know we would be glad to return the favour - and to help in the city's defense. But we aren't miracle workers - mostly."

[Marlowe]

Raises her eyebrows. "As a matter of fact, Wisdom. Do you remember those...gentlemen we met?The grey rod they had? That was all part of this. And I'd quite like to know who you reported to because I've a suspicion that someone leaked info on that little caper to other enemies of the city; leading to plots, counter-plots, and complete frell-ups." She looks at Sarim; "Well, if we're making inquiries we might as well start with that tome of Thaddeus; the one what I slashed the cover off."

[YossarianLives]

Emyera's eyes dark eyes widen in surprise, but she just nods. "Let's... well, I don't have an office. But lets talk about this somewhere out of the way. We don't want anyone listening in." She gestures for you to follow, and scurries down a pathway deeper into the grounds, glancing about for signs of pursuit. Following Emyera, she leads you away from the hustle and bustle of the College, away from prying eyes, to an isolated corner of the grounds. She darts behind a patch of bushes hugging the fence, and squats down inside the small leafy cavern. It is surprisingly roomy, there being enough space behind the bush to house all of you, with a little squeezing. The floor is covered with rotten leaves and scuttling insects, and stray branches dig into your backs.

"Now," she breathes in barely more than a whisper. "I can't tell you who I reported to. Or what we were fetching on that mission." She shakes her head remorsefully. "Not yet. I wish I could. Really. It's confidential - I'm still shocked they told someone of my seniority. Sorry. But I can help you with that book." She reaches for it, stares hard at the first page for a solid minute, flips through a few pages, then hands it back with a shrug. "A spellbook. I can't read it, but those runes are distinct enough. Looks like you've got a wizard on your hands."

[rax]

"Wisdom Emerya, with all due respect, you can do better than that. I am a recent recruit to the struggle, but this young lady has been risking her life daily for months now. Her only concern has been to drive back the invaders and to restore peace and prosperity to the good people of Senra. Now she - we - have strong evidence that there are people in this city who do not have its best interests at heart, but whenever we seek help or guidance, we are met with nothing but obstruction and obfuscation."

"You clearly know the answers to some of our questions, and have been forbidden to speak to outsiders. I respect that, but we are the ones risking our lives for Senra right now, and every moment we operate with faulty intelligence increases the chance of defeat for us - and the city. So I implore you - take a risk. Tell us who sent you on your mission and what you were fetching. Or if you cannot speak before all of us, then at least confide in Avita - surely you can see that you can trust her to handle the information wisely."

Spoiler: Diplomancer at work

Show

Here's hoping to effect an attitude shift. Helpful (and thus willing to take risks) would be nice...
Diplomacy check (1d20+19)[24]

[YossarianLives]

Emyera scrunches up her face in a mess of conflicted emotions. Eventually she takes a deep breath, lets it out, and looks up with an expression of newfound determination. "Fine. There are nine people, including myself, in the team. I can give you all their names, if you'd like, but the operation is being led by a man named Alexander Kruge. An expert on magical items here at the College. The others mostly specialize in ancient history." She gives you all a meaningful look, nods slightly. "But I absolutely cannot tell you what we were working on," she says, a note of fervency entering her voice. "It isn't just my job and reputation at stake here, its the lives of my entire team. There are a lot of nasty people - people, not demons - who would like very much to get their hands on what we've recovered.

[Marlowe]

"Wisdom Emyera", says Avita as gently as she can. "It's possible we've not told you something important. We're not here as old comrades come for some quick friendly advice; we're warranted officers of the law on an urgent investigation of a case that threatens the very existence of the city. Now, if you're telling me that the Senra Sage's Guild is refusing information needed urgently in time of war by the Senra City Guard and, by extension, the Senra city government because of some "nasty people", we're just going to have to ask who these "nasty people" are and what precisely you're involved in to get their attention." Her eyelashes flip up at the end of the sentence.

[YossarianLives]

"No," says Emyera sadly. "I think it's you who doesn't understand. This isn't just an interesting research project for the College: we were commissioned by someone from the highest echelons of the Senrish government. This is top secret. The only people with enough authority to order the investigation you want to conduct, already know everything." She pauses. "I really am sorry."

She stands up, walks to the little gap where you entered the bushes, then pauses, one hand absently running down the back of her neck. "Look into the 'Sanctus Wars.' You might understand better then. Good luck." It sounds like she means it.

[Marlowe]

Avita sets her jaw, and steps into Emyera's way. "Stop", she says through her teeth. "Boys. The rest of the papers."

She starts slamming the objects into piles. "Frellichkeit! Whatever little plot you're involved in; it's but another tangent, as yet. And we have a backlog to clear. And if you'll not be of use telling us what this stuff is you can at least point us to someone you might be."

She points at the coverless tome. "A spellbook; you said? That's interesting, because the person in whose house we found it was no Wizard. So; who's spellbook? And who would know? And could this person tell us what spells are in it?"

She points at the letters and other tomes from Thaddeus's house. "Mound of stuff here, alphabet is Draconic, but I don't know the language. Could be a cypher, doubt it. I can recognise cyphers as such because they're always a snarl of consonants. Need to find someone trustworthy who can read this language and go through them for us. Could be important, maybe not. Could contain the clue that saves this city and could be a load of last year's shopping lists. The point is; we don't know and you are making to walk off without helping."

She points to the papers from Parker's place. "Maps of the underground that the Demons appear to be using, with annotations by one who was in touch with their commanders. Graphs we haven't had time to analyse and never will, because we'll be walking, and hunting, and finding, and fighting, and we need someone to tell us what they mean. A ritual to contact the frelling enemy commander-oh, you've met him. We chatted with him today as well. Sorry to say he's still alive--I'd like someone to tell me how a--how a city official came up with THAT. Oh; and there's some old knife as well but I suspect that's just a joke."

"We've encountered two new Demons today. We lost the Drow--you remember the Drow? Erin Shovel, or something. Nice guy, lovely singing voice, eunuch--to one of them. We'd like to talk to someone about that to find out what we can expect."

And she fixes a glare on Emyera that has no humour whatsoever. "And if you can't help with any of this, you at least owe it to the city where you rest your arse at night to tell us who can. And not just walk off as though you're too busy and important to worry about being flayed into a drumskin by those little claw-headed things within a week's time." Her teeth snap together.

"The Demon Commander has something planned for two nights from now. We know because we just got personally invited. We need to get the spaghetti back in the bowl before then; or we're most probably all cooked. For that we need some actual help. The sort we might reasonably expect a City guild to offer City officers in wartime." Her eyes give a bit of a flare. "Do you understand?"

[YossarianLives]

Emyera looks like she would really rather be somewhere else, but nonetheless holds her head high and takes the papers. "Please, be patient," she implores. I'm happy to help you however I can... but we really can't talk about the "project."" She hefts the torn spellbook in one hand, though it's nearly the size of her head. "I can't tell you who the spellbook belonged to, but I would guess they were an experienced caster. Look." She flips through the pages. "It's almost completely full. Not many wizards manage to learn that many spells."

She shifts over to the papers you found at Thaddeus' house, frowns. She opens her mouth to speak, closes it, scans through the papers again, then looks up. "This might sound strange, but I think this is written in Ignan. The language of Fire Elementals. Though it poses a strange question... how would a Fire Elemental write on paper?" The scholar shakes her head. "I can pull some strings. Round up some of my colleagues. I'm no cartographer, but we'll have all these maps analyzed by tomorrow morning. I will deliver the results to you myself. And if you want to consult with any of our specialists, I can arrange a meeting at the earliest possible convenience. How does that sound?"

And as a final note: "I couldn't tell you anything about that dagger, though. Looks to have some ceremonial use but that's all I can say."

She holds out her hands, as if to block Avita from coming any closer. "I understand. I understand!" She hesitates. "Though I must say, I wouldn't trust that skinny fellow with a sack of dry sand. I hope you don't mean to accept his... invitation. And I'm sorry to hear about poor Eric. It can't be easy, losing a trusted companion."

[Marlowe]

Avita's left hand with its spiked gauntlet comes up. She taps her thumb to each fingertip in turn hard enough to cause audible *CLINKS*. Her eyes seem to study the play of light on the metal. "I was thinking.
I was hoping. I was wishing. That we could accept his invitation with force begged, borrowed, stolen and volunteered from anyone interested to rip off his pretty little head and mount it on mother's coffee table as a conservation starter. See if that puts a worm in his apple. But that's going to require some parties...co-operating and remembering their legal and civic duty, isn't it?"

She lowers the gauntlet and looks at Emyera unblinking, teeth showing and set behind black lips. "Pull some strings, you say. Are you seriously suggesting that a request for assistance by the City Guard of a City guild in time of war should be treated as something that requires Pulling Strings? Like it's something unusual? Personal? Shameful? Underhanded? Emyera-" She takes a step forward. "Currently, we're being invaded by three different forces. Two of which seem to seek our enslavement, one our annihilation. I admit I was hoping to find some will to stop either of these things from happening somewhere. in someone of the city besides myself and companions."

She sucks in a breath, then her head perks up, face still set. "Oh. And on a tangent; where's Kathe these days?"

[YossarianLives]

Emyera tries to take on a sterner tone, but ends up just blustering. "You know," she says, crossing her arms. I am offering you my help. It wouldn't hurt you to show a little gratitude - or at least refrain from shouting at me. You show up, yell at me, throw a pile of work in my lap, then yell at me some more when I agree to help you. You are not the only people getting done around here, and your work is certainly not the only matter of importance." She lowers her voice to just above a whisper, taking on the air of one informing a friend that they have just made a devastating social blunder. "Quite frankly, Avita, you look like a fool. Don't pretend you know everything."

The last question takes her by surprise. "Who?"

[Marlowe]

Avita runs a white, gaunt finger across her cheekbone, down her face. It's an increasingly angular trip. "Weeee~ell...if you don't know then that's my second piece of friendly warning to you; Emyera. Avoid that person. Tell no one I mentioned her, and should you find out anything concerning that person you should inform the Guard immediately. We may already know; but corroboration is a nice thing to have, when unstitching secrets."

Her hand-the naked one. Pale and skeletal- flexes open, palm upward. "And on secrets, you should probably stop mentioning how busy you are and how you simply can't tell us what your're involved in because it's so very important? I must admit I had no curiosity whatsoever about your activities, or about the broader ramificallits of our little trip to the college the other day. It's simply outside the scope of our investigation. Yet the more you go on and on about how we're not allowed to know about it the more I'm curious...What could be more important than stopping the city from getting flayed to ribbons by a billion scampering horrors busting out at random without warning from somewhere unknown? Really-" The hand closes into a fist, and a black, chill flame envelopes it for a moment.

"What could you be involved in that's more important than "Let's Not Get Everyone Killed, Boys and Girls?" Does the High Counsel have one of those silly plans that involve them and their chosen escaping to another dimension while the rest of us just get killed, raped, and eaten? If so, tell them I read that book. Irony always strikes and they always wind up in a worst situation than when they started. You understand, it's not my job to ask. Or judge-"

And then she snaps forward into Emyera's space another step. "-But I am tired of being spoken to like a copper-a-pop dockside dollymop asking for a gratuitity." She's not entirely sure where she's heard that expression before, but it strikes her as a zinger. "Helping us is in your interest. It is also your duty before the law as a citizen. I should not have to threaten. I should not have to cajole. I certainly should not have to beg. You should know that if you desire the benefits of civilization you needs stand duty for them. And that includes, almost as the first thing, assisting when required those somewhat more...foolish individuals that defend you in the night that you don't have to defend yourself."

Her head inclines a few degrees. All her teeth are showing now. "You cannot help us with these things. So. That means your next move is to direct us to someone who can. At the point where you have shown us to someone willing to grant us some time and the benefit of their knowledge, your problems will be over."

[rax]

Sarrazin suddenly laughs out loud. "Peace, Avita! Peace! I'm sure Wisdom Emerya is doing everything she feels is in her power to help us. Let's not antagonize an ally needlessly."

"Forgive us Wisdom, but these are trying times, and tempers fray easily. We will gladly accept all the help you can offer, but Avita is right - we should not have to beg and cajole for answers when the survival of the city is at stake. Now, you are loyal to your masters and colleagues, and your loyalty prevents you from telling us all you know. I respect that - loyalty is always to be commended. You are also right that we do not know everything - why else would we be here, seeking answers to our many questions. But if we do not know everything, then consider the possibility that your masters don't either, and that whatever they are planning, they are doing so with incomplete intelligence."

"So here is my suggestion - speak to your masters, speak to your colleagues. We are each of us doing what we deem best for the city in this time of crisis, but it would be foolish for us to waste time and effort working at cross-purposes simply because we dare not trust each other. So ask them, please, if they will consent to meet with us and discuss what we each know about this invasion. We don't expect to be told all the details of what's going on, but a meeting to share intelligence? Surely it would be foolish to pass up on such an opportunity?"

"And all that aside - I think we would indeed like to speak to some of your specialists. As Avita said, we have met two new kinds of demon just today. Any help we can get in identifying them and their capabilities would be most welcome."

Spoiler: Diplomacy? We don't need no stinkin' diplomacy!

Show

Or maybe we do. Diplomacy check if that would be helpful: (1d20+19)[30]

[Marlowe]

Avita's head half-turns toward Sarrazin, and her hand goes to her chin as though struck by a thought. "Two demons of unknown type. Both encountered well within the city. Both infiltrators. One a shape-changer or illusion specialist...and do you know? Do you know? The one that got the Drow seemed to be targeting him specifically...that little finger-point gesture Pretty-Boy's myrmidons made at him in the college looked awfully like a declaration of vendetta..."

She turns back to Emyera and holds up three fingers. "So; that's another friendly warning.
Demon infiltrators within the city. Able to disguise themselves as something everyday and innocuous. Very possibly going after specific people who've come to their unfavourable attention. That category may well include you, Emyera."

[YossarianLives]

Emyera takes a step back, nods hastily. "I'll keep an eye out," she laughs nervously. When Sarrazin intercedes, she flashes him a grateful smile. "Thank you, sir. I will make sure you have the results by tomorrow." She hesitates, sliding back into awkwardness. "The Guard does know, but... well, for now we-" She catches Avita's eye, gulps, and stops talking. There is a moment of silence, before Emyera forces a jaunty smile. "Why don't I take you to see Professor Hill, our resident demonologist. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to talk to someone with so much first-hand experience." She ducks out from under the bushes, and gestures for you follow.

She leads you back along the path, through the grounds, and toward a small door on the right side of the manorhouse. There are less people here, the grass sparser, and the shadow of the ugly building looms over you, made long by the sinking sun. Emyera knocks twice, waits, then pulls the door open when a reedy voice calls "enter!"

Within, is a tiny office that you would guess to be a repurposed storage room. The beige bricks are undecorated, several bearing a rather unpleasant greyish stain, and the floor cold stone. Another door leads deeper into the manorhouse. Crammed into this tiny room is a desk, chair, and iron-bound oak chest. At this desk is seated a lanky gentleman of about fifty, with darker skin and long hair streaked with silver. He watches patiently as you all shuffle in, drinking in every detail of your party, but says nothing. After a moment, Emyera breaks the silence: "Hello, Professor Hill! This is Avita Santiago and... well, these are her companions. They're from the City Guard." She gives Hill a very unsubtle look. "They were hoping you could help them identify some unusual demons." Hill visibly perks up, but says nothing, apparently waiting on you to speak.

[Marlowe]

Avita takes a step forward, gives a distinctly unsubtle look to Emyera, and then gives a precise twenty-degree bow toward Hill. "It is an honour to meet you, Wisdom." she says. "I am Senra City Guard Special Warrant Officer Avita Santiago." She throws out an arm, indicating the rest of the party. "Sarim Blackaxe. Sarrazin Montayne. Fion Mac Roich. I'll let them make their own introductions. I apologize for my appearance and my...smell. There was a battle yesterday. Some of us were in it, and haven't had the chance to change. Or bathe."

She straightens up. "We've encountered a number of strange things today. We've spoken to the Demon commander again." She rolls her eyes. "Got invited to his next tea party; because apparently his attempts to kill us keep failing so he's trying something else. Got someone whisked away from us today by some sort of large shape-changer, or something, that could impersonate a plausible old man with a cart. There was a...thing, that seemed over supplied with sensory organs. There's this business about a grey, glass rod that seems to be driving a lot of drama. We'd very much like to know more about that."

She drops another bow. "If you'd like to exchange information, we have a bit we'd like to put some context to."

[YossarianLives]

Professor Hill leans forward in his chair, one hand clutching the table, the other massaging his chin. He appears to be hanging onto your every word. Emyera just stands to the side, waiting patiently.

When Avita has finished, Hill nods thoughtfully, pulls a notebook from his pocket, and begins to vigorously write. "It's a pleasure to meet you all," he mutters absentmindedly. "I am more than happy to answer any questions you might have. But tell me... what is this 'grey, glass rod' you speak of? A magical item of some kind?"

[Marlowe]

Avita places a finger to her chin, and begins speaking clearly; "We first encountered the rod--its description as I have given and as you have just repeated--during a mission to Senra college several days ago. Wisdom Emyera was also present and can confirm what I say. The rod was in the hands of the Demon commander we now know to be called the Knight Errant Laelth. We briefly took it from him, but since it was unknown both to us and to the Wisdom, and since we had a mission to complete, wound up giving it back to him in exchange for being able to complete our own quest unmolested."

"I deeply regret this decision, yet given the building was crawling with Wheelers and their allies, and given we had been detected, I still wonder if we'd have got out of there if we hadn't done it."

"We encountered Laelth and the rod again during the battle in Black Shingle yesterday. Both our own forces and Laelth's were in the process of being overwhelmed by a sudden and massive swarming of those claw-headed little horrors called Zanghifd. Laelth parleyed with us briefly, claimed the rod would let him control the things, and asked to join us in our fortification so he could use it. These terms seemed frelled hard in every ho-of being highly suspicious, so we told him no and shot him in the neck, sadly not fatally. He ran off and hid. At no sign during the battle did the Zanghifd show any sign of being under any control."

"Today we arrested a man who admitted being party to a conspiracy to assist Laelth in stealing an item from the college to control the Zanghifd. The fellow in question seemed to think this would somehow save the city but I'm at a loss as to how."

"It is purely my speculation that the rod does not do quite what either Laelth or our local traitor has told us, although they might well believe it does. There is also some circumstantial evidence that certain other parties are interested in the rod, or at least very concerned about the prospect of Laelth having it."

She breathes in. "In short, we don't know what it is or quite what it does, but it seems others think they do."

[YossarianLives]

Hill listens patiently to all of your questions, taking notes all the while, then goes embark answering them one by one. He speaks clearly and concisely, hitting every consonant and not wasting time on needless description or flowery language. He raises an eyebrow at any mention of the "certain organization," but does not press you.

He seems to be highly intrigued by the rod, but has never heard of anything like it before - though he does suggest that Laelth's claims of controlling demons might not be quite as preposterous as you seem to think. According to Hill, Natives of the Abyss are generally much more magical than those from the Material Plane. It might be possible to create some kind of device that manipulated their minds, without requiring the vast power used my mass enchantment spells. However, the good professor emphasizes that this is no more than a theory.

This leads to a clear segway into discussing the Zaghifd, though Hill isn't able to tell you much that you haven't already heard. They are a highly primitive race, caring for nothing other than violence and dancing to the perpetual throb of the drums. The creatures mostly dwell in the narrow flesh-tunnels that honeycomb the Abyss, so there is little concrete information on them - though there have been reports of distinct tribes of Zaghifd warring against one another for territory, with a powerful warlord occasionally rising to lead thousands of their brethren. Curiously, though, they lack many of the characteristics normally associated with living beings. They have no brain, and virtually no requirements for survival: they do not eat, drink, breathe, sleep, and have no drive (or method) to reproduce. New Zaghifd seem to just appear when no one is looking. In the past distant, the Zaghifd have become organized enough to attack the surface in great numbers, raising entire cities before being repulsed by a rare alliance between the arch-demons. Such an assault has not occurred in over two hundred standard-years.

With some reluctance, Hill moves onto the subject of the shapeshifter. He easily identifies it as something called a "Kiff'Waelg." This name is apparently colloquial, though he declines to translate. The creature seems to be the result of some bizarre experiment, rather than a natural creature - though the purpose of such a thing cannot be fathomed. Hill mentions that the lower levels of the Abyss are home to those who dabble in the manipulation of flesh and bone, flesh-smiths who toil to unleash fresh horrors upon the multiverse. The Kiff'Waelg seem to be limited in form to their true shape and the wagon-driving elder, though the exact dimensions of the vehicle and the appearance of the driver are flexible. What is more, reports of the shapeshifters are very rare. Your encounter is the second ever recorded encounter with a Kiff'Waelg on the Material Plane, the first having occurred some fifteen years ago in the southern port city of Ipsilon, when one went on the rampage in the middle of a wine tasting parlour.

Professor Hill has not heard of Laelth before, but is more than familiar with the species: the Ena'Qaeral'l are by far the most influential humanoid race in the Abyss. Often serving as vassals to the arch-demons, their extensive noble families form the aristocracy of the Abyssal cities. In addition to their talent for diplomatic and scholastic fields - when compared with other demons - they seem to possess an instinctual knowledge of advanced swordplay. Each Ena'Qaeral'l is gifted their own blade upon reaching adulthood, and even poorly-skilled warriors have been known to manifest miracles in combat: moving with unnatural speed, conjuring fire, short-range teleportation. Their society is also highly regulated, with everyone expected to strictly follow not only the code of honour, but the orders of those above them. The Ena'Qaeral'l hierarchy is a complicated thing, a web of parentage, politics, and military achievement.

When you mention the blob and the many-eyed entity, Hill looks thoroughly perplexed. He flips through his notebook, scratches his chin, then continues speaking. The runner he identifies as a "Tae'yla," another artificial race designed for scouting and data-collection. With agility and extremely acute senses, they are perfect for this role, though all but helpless in combat. They cannot speak and communicate telepathically. Though originally a slave race, considered no better than an inanimate object, albeit a valuable one, some Tae'yla have escaped and started their own settlements on the fringes of the Abyss. The few who have visited these settlements describe them as surprisingly peaceful, the Tae'yla's low requirements for survival allowing them to focus on science, culture, and philosophy. Hill knows nothing of the blob, a fact which seems to bother him.

Hill also knows nothing of the motivation behind the demonic invasion. Though he apparently traveled to the Abyss in his youth, he currently has no contact those from other planes. And of course the war has temporarily made communication all but impossible.

[Marlowe]

"So, the Tae'yla has sent to watch the residence, heard a disturbance as we bashed in the door, and notified Laelth telepathically. Laelth gave us a little lie about "wards on the door" to protect the existence of his spy, not knowing we'd already seen it."

She bows. "Thank you never much for this information, Professor; especially that business about Old Harry. Now, given our primary mission is to uncover the details of the conspiracy that enabled Laelth to get his hands on the rod; would you like to examine the materials we've taken from the plotters homes?"

[rax]

"Yes, you're probably right, Avita. Though if these artificial races have enough will to rebel and form their own communities, we should not discount the possibility of competing motivations or factions among the invaders. Laelth claimed they had come to instigate a new era of equality and prosperity for the downtrodden - it's interesting to consider what might happen if the same were offered to his slaves...."