Yet another story to entertain myself - and you, hopefully. This takes place between Ascent into Avernus and Baldur’s Gate 3. It goes without saying that spoilers for the former will be implied through dialogue in a few places. Also a disclaimer for violence typical of the setting.
Darbakh's footsteps echoed softly on the cobblestone streets as he emerged from his flat. The morning sun cast a warm glow over the narrow alleys of the neighborhood, a quiet oasis amid the bustling city of Elturel. The Duergar grunted as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his stone grey features drawn into a scowl that seemed as natural as the air he breathed.
Just as he was about to set off with a huff, a familiar voice cut through the early morning calm. "Darbakh! Hold on a minute!" called Ramona, his human neighbor. Darbakh's grumpy expression deepened, but he paused, knowing that once Ramona had her sights on him, escape was futile.
Ramona, a middle-aged woman with a determined stride, approached with a warm smile that contrasted Darbakh's mood. "Morning, Darbakh! I've got someone I want you to meet." She motioned to a figure trailing behind her, and Darbakh's eyes met the gaze of a half-elf man.
Darbakh offered a curt nod, not one for pleasantries. "Uncle Ulthian," Ramona began, "this is Darbakh, my neighbor. And Darbakh, this is my uncle Ulthian. He just arrived in Elturel and is looking for work."
Ulthian, a half-elf with a weathered yet amiable expression, extended a hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Darbakh. Heard this city's got more than its fair share of stories."
Darbakh grunted again, a gesture that could be interpreted as acknowledgment. He was accustomed to his solitary routine, his interactions limited to the necessities. This was his neighborhood—his patch of normalcy—where the daily rhythms were as familiar as the stones beneath his feet.
Ramona's cheerful demeanor didn't waver as she approached Darbakh once more, her eyes carrying an unspoken request. "Darbakh, I hope I'm not bothering you again, but I was wondering if you might help my uncle find some work in the city."
Darbakh met Ramona's gaze with a raised eyebrow, the question clear in his expression.
"Ulthian's skilled with his hands," Ramona continued, her voice gentle yet persistent. "He's a craftsman, like you. He's looking for a way to make a living here."
Ulthian shifted slightly, a faint flush coloring his cheeks. "Ramona, you needn't trouble your neighbor on my behalf. I can find my own path."
Ramona, however, wasn't one to take no for an answer. "Nonsense, Uncle. Darbakh works at a smithy. He's got connections and knows the ins and outs of crafting. I'm sure he can help."
Darbakh's gaze lingered on Ulthian for a moment before he spoke, his words clipped. "Smithy's specialized work. Not everyone's cut out for it."
Ulthian nodded, a mixture of appreciation and understanding in his gaze. "Of course, I understand. I wouldn't want to impose."
Ramona's polite smile remained unwavering. "Darbakh, I know you're not the chattiest person, but you've got a heart of gold somewhere in there. And I believe Ulthian would be a valuable addition to any team."
Darbakh grumbled, seemingly more to himself than anyone else. "If he's got skill, he can try his luck at the Dragon's Forge."
Ulthian's eyes brightened with gratitude. "Thank you, Darbakh. I'll look into it."
Ramona's smile broadened. "See? That wasn't so difficult, was it?"
Darbakh's answer was a noncommittal grunt, but a glimmer of something resembling amusement danced in his eyes. Ulthian chuckled softly, a hint of embarrassment in his tone. "Thank you, Ramona. I appreciate your—"
"Stubbornness?" Ramona interjected playfully.
"Optimism," Ulthian corrected with a wry grin.
As Ramona and Ulthian continued their conversation, the tranquil morning air was interrupted by the creaking of a window being pushed open. Darbakh's eyebrows furrowed as he glanced upward, his gaze settling on a woman leaning out from the window two floors above. She had a presence that seemed to demand attention, her long dark hair and Calimshan features catching the early sunlight.
"Ramona!" the woman called, her voice carrying down to the street. "Is this the uncle you were telling me about?"
Ramona's laughter rang out, carrying a touch of familiarity. "Maisa, you're up early! Yes, this is Ulthian."
Ulthian offered a wave in Maisa's direction, his smile easy and welcoming. "Pleasure to meet you."
Darbakh seized the opportunity to try and disentangle himself from the conversation. "I should be—"
Maisa's laughter cut him off, rich and full of amusement. "Oh, come now, Darbakh. Don't be in such a hurry to escape us."
Ulthian glanced at Darbakh with a hint of sympathy, likely recognizing the duergar's discomfort. "Apologies if we're keeping you from something important."
Darbakh's lips twitched in what might have been a wry smile. "Just starting the day."
Maisa leaned further out of the window, her gaze assessing Darbakh with a knowing glint. "Starting the day with a scowl, I see. You're in good company, my friend."
Ulthian chuckled, seemingly amused by the exchange. "And here I thought I was the new face in town."
Ramona chimed in, her tone light. "Maisa's been a fixture here for years. She's our neighborhood's unofficial guardian."
Darbakh's sigh was a mix of resignation and exasperation. "If you'll all excuse me—"
Maisa's voice carried a note of mischief. "Oh, don't be so hasty, Darbakh. You haven't even met all your neighbors yet."
Maisa's words flowed effortlessly, her voice carrying the assurance of someone well-acquainted with the ebb and flow of the neighborhood. "You'll find work here, Ulthian. Elturel is a friendly and peaceful city. Opportunities abound for those with skills and determination."
Ulthian's smile was appreciative as he nodded, his gaze lingering on the bustling streets below. "I'm grateful for your confidence."
Unbeknownst to them, Darbakh had taken advantage of the conversation's momentum, his footsteps echoing faintly as he retreated down the street. The camaraderie was foreign to him, a touch too overwhelming for his liking. With a sigh, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his worn leather jacket. His gaze swept over the streets, the buildings, and the faces of those going about their day. The tranquility of Elturel, the supposed friendliness and peace, seemed to resonate with the city's residents. But for Darbakh, who had grown accustomed to solitude and the rough edges of life, the sentiment seemed foreign.
"Peaceful my ass," he muttered under his breath, the words a gruff reminder of his own skepticism.
In a land devoid of light and life, where the concept of time held no meaning, the desolation of Avernus stretched endlessly. Barren, rocky ground extended as far as the eye could see, marred by the scattered remnants of bones and corpses, silent testament to the countless souls who had met their fate in this forsaken realm.
The sky above was an eternal crimson, its hue never shifting, never yielding to a day-night cycle or the passage of seasons. The air was still, suffocatingly still, save for the occasional hot wind that swept across the wasteland like an unwelcome breath, offering no respite from the relentless heat.
Vegetation was sparse and twisted, struggling to eke out an existence in this inhospitable landscape. What passed for life in Avernus was a grim reflection of existence itself—tenacious, resilient, yet marred by a sense of melancholy.
Amid the quiet desolation, the wind whispered tales of despair, each gust carrying with it the echoes of long-forgotten hopes and dreams. This was a realm where souls were stripped bare, their regrets and sorrows etched into the very fabric of the land.
As the wind subsided, the silence returned, a heavy curtain that enveloped everything in a shroud of solitude. Here, amidst the remains of lives once lived, the weight of the land's somber fatigue bore down, casting a pall over everything it touched. And so, Avernus stood, a realm of isolation and quiet depression, its mournful reality echoing in every barren crevice and empty expanse.
In the midst of the desolate emptiness, a faint symphony of sound pierced the silence—a cacophony of panting breaths, gasping, and the desperate rhythm of feet against rocky terrain. As the noise drew closer, the desperation of life battling the oppressive stillness became unmistakable.
Emerging over the barren horizon, figures burst into view, running with a frantic urgency across the unforgiving wasteland. Leading the charge was a gnoll, its matted fur soaked in sweat and grime, its usual cackling replaced by short, panicked wheezes. The terror etched onto its hyena-like features was undeniable as it sprinted as if fleeing from death itself.
But death was indeed in pursuit, a relentless terror that hunted them both. An injured and bleeding leaping demon of Yeenoghu—a barlgura—trailed behind the gnoll. Its once-fierce eyes were now dulled by agony, and a trail of ichor marked its path across the desolate terrain.
Despite its demonic might, the barlgura moved with a limping desperation, no longer the embodiment of fear but rather a creature consumed by it. With every limping stride, it distanced itself from the gnoll, the source of its panic revealed in the gruesome wounds it bore.
The gnoll and the barlgura, once allies, now shared the same frantic goal—to escape the terror that pursued them. As they raced side by side, the haunting cries of the chase reverberated through the air, a chilling reminder of the horrors that Avernus held in its relentless grip. The gnoll and the barlgura vanished from sight, the gnoll's panicked shout to the leaping demon to wait echoing momentarily before being swallowed by the emptiness. As their figures faded, a new sound emerged from the void—the even, rhythmic clang of boots striking rocky ground.
Without a word, Darbakh emerged into view, passing over the same path that the gnoll and demon had just traversed. His steps were relentless, unwavering, the full weight of his heavy armor doing little to slow his pace. The maul he carried, its brutal surface marred by the grotesque residue of demon ichor, was a testament to the trials he had already endured.
The relentless rhythm of his march matched the steady beat of his heart, a heart that seemed unaffected by fatigue or despair. Darbakh's face was a mask of determination, his features set in a grim expression that mirrored the harsh reality of his surroundings.
As he pursued the path of the gnoll and the barlgura, his focus remained unswerving. There were no cries of exertion, no display of weariness—only the relentless clanging of boots on the rocky ground. Darbakh was a figure of unyielding purpose, his pursuit driven by something deep within him, something that burned hotter than the unending sun of Avernus. The landscape offered no respite, no kindness, and yet Darbakh's steps remained unbroken. His presence was a solitary echo, the embodiment of a will that refused to falter. As he advanced, his form cast a stark silhouette against the crimson sky, a solitary figure carving his own path through the desolation.
The gnoll and the barlgura were gone from sight, their fleeting figures a memory that now seemed distant. But Darbakh's pursuit was relentless, a testament to his unyielding spirit and the grim resolve that carried him forward. The barlgura's frenzied flight came to an abrupt halt as its leg snapped with a sickening crack, the limb no longer sturdy enough to support the demon’s body weight. It crumpled to the rocky ground, a pained howl echoing through the barren landscape. Beside it, the gnoll's strength finally abandoned it, and it collapsed beside the demon, its ragged gasps mingling with the anguished cries of the wounded creature.
Darbakh's maul was a lethal extension of his will, its surface slick with the same demon ichor that marked their tormentors. He moved without haste, without the need to run, and his ironclad form exhibited no signs of fatigue. His presence was as unyielding as the desolate land itself. As he closed in, the barlgura turned its wounded gaze towards the advancing duergar. Its growl was a mixture of defiance and pain, its broken body grounding it in its futile struggle.
The gnoll's trembling body lay beside the demon, its breaths shallow and ragged. With a final exertion of energy, it lifted its head and directed its fury towards the barlgura. "You—!" The gnoll's voice was a strained rasp, "You were supposed to protect me! It's your job to defend me!"
The barlgura's growls were tinged with desperation, its defiance meeting its inevitable end. Grounded by injury, it was a creature trapped in its own demise, its lifeblood mingling with the ichor-stained earth. As it turned its broken form towards Darbakh, a final surge of desperation fueled its actions. With a swipe of its massive paw, it lunged at the approaching duergar, claws outstretched. But Darbakh's reflexes were honed, his movements as swift as they were precise. His maul came down with a resounding impact, a brutal counter that met the barlgura's attack head-on. The creature's paw was smashed, its agonized cry cut short by the unrelenting force of Darbakh's blow.
Before the barlgura could react, Darbakh followed through with a decisive thrust of his maul. The weapon's head struck the demon's skull with a sickening crunch, and the barlgura collapsed to the rocky ground. Its body convulsed, paralyzed and twitching, a grotesque mimicry of life.
Beside the fallen demon, the gnoll's panic escalated into hysteria. With trembling limbs, it attempted to flee, its frenzied steps an attempt to escape the horror that unfolded before it. But Darbakh's resolve was as unyielding as ever, and with a swift, practiced motion, he hurled a dagger that sliced through the air. The dagger found its mark, striking the gnoll's leg with precision. A cry of pain tore from the gnoll's throat as its leg buckled beneath it, sending it tumbling to the ground. Its panicked escape was abruptly halted, and it lay there, a portrait of desperation and agony.
The gnoll's pleas for mercy echoed through the desolate expanse, a desperate refrain that fell on unyielding ears. Darbakh's gaze was unwavering, his features a mask of cold determination as he regarded the pitiable creature before him. The gnoll's cries ebbed and flowed, a desperate symphony of fear and desperation.
"Please," the gnoll's voice trembled, its tone laced with desperation. "I-I'll do anything, just spare me."
Darbakh's silence persisted, his gaze unflinching as the gnoll continued to beg for its life, each plea a futile attempt to sway the duergar's resolve.
"Please, have mercy," the gnoll's voice cracked, the weight of its terror and anguish palpable in every word.
But Darbakh's response was as unyielding as his gaze. "Give me your soul coins," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion.
The gnoll's protests were immediate, its voice a mixture of complaint and despair. "You don't understand! I won't survive without them!"
Again, Darbakh's demand remained unchanged, his voice cutting through the gnoll's whines. "Your soul coins. Now."
The gnoll's grip on the precious coins tightened, its reluctance clear. "I won't last long without them," it whined, the words a futile plea.
But with a resigned sigh, the gnoll eventually relinquished its grip on the coins, its hands trembling as it placed them into Darbakh's awaiting palm. Without a word, he grasped the gnoll's leg and, with a swift, practiced motion, removed the dagger that had been embedded there.
The gnoll's cry of pain echoed through the desolate air, a final note of suffering that reverberated amidst the emptiness. And as Darbakh turned away, the fate of the gnoll remained uncertain, shrouded in the shadows of Avernus's relentless grasp.
—
Time passed like a river, and the crimson sky of Avernus remained unchanging. In the distance, the jagged silhouettes of rocky hills broke the monotony of the landscape. And amidst these barren formations, a cave entrance yawned, a darkened maw in the midst of desolation.
As Darbakh drew closer, the hobgoblin scouts stationed among the rocks waved him onward. Their worn and battered armor spoke of battles fought, and their gazes held the weight of exhaustion mingled with resilience. With a nod of acknowledgment, Darbakh continued his march, his steps unwavering, his form a silent testament to his journey.
Entering the cave, the air shifted from the unrelenting heat of the outside to a slightly cooler, yet still unwelcoming, embrace. The rocky walls seemed to close in, their starkness creating an oppressive ambiance that echoed the harshness of Avernus itself.
Within the cave's confines, the scene was a tableau of survival. Mortal refugees huddled together, their faces bearing the marks of hardship and fear. These were souls who had sought sanctuary in the cave's relative shelter, individuals from various races and backgrounds, all united by the shared struggle for survival in the Nine Hells. Their gazes turned towards Darbakh as he entered, a mixture of curiosity and cautious hope reflected in their eyes. A collection of souls bound by circumstances beyond their control, the refugees had become a fragile community, one that transcended the divisions of race and origin.
In their midst, hobgoblins worked alongside humans, elves alongside gnomes. The very fabric of this makeshift refuge was woven from the threads of necessity, the need to stand together against the relentless trials that Avernus presented.
Amidst the desolation of the Nine Hells, the cave became a sanctuary of sorts—a haven where the boundaries of race and heritage faded against the backdrop of survival. As Darbakh's presence merged with the shadows, his ironclad form a silent guardian, he became a part of this intricate tapestry, a symbol of the resilience that echoed in every heartbeat of those who sought refuge within its depths.
The cave's cool embrace enveloped Darbakh as he retreated to the small hollow he had carved out for himself. Here, amidst the rough-hewn walls, he set down his maul and helmet, the heavy weight of his armor releasing its grip on his form. The air seemed to hold a melancholic weight, a quiet reminder of the struggles that were etched into every corner of the Nine Hells.
Navigating the space was a careful dance, a step over prone bodies and weary souls that dotted the floor. Mortals, worn and battered, lay in various states of fatigue, injury, and despair. Their faces spoke of untold stories, their eyes carrying the weight of a journey that had brought them to this desolate place.
In the midst of the refugees, Darbakh found Ramona—a familiar face in a sea of uncertainty. Her skilled hands were gentle as they tended to a sickly gnome, the suffering etched into the gnome's features mirrored by the weariness that marked Ramona's own expression.
As Darbakh approached, his footsteps were soft, a presence that melded with the quietude of the cave. In the corner near Ramona's makeshift healing station, he carefully placed the soul coins he had collected. A pile of glinting currency, a reflection of the trials endured and the sacrifices made.
Ramona's gaze met his tiredly, her voice carrying a weariness that mirrored the collective exhaustion of those who sought refuge in the cave. "You know we can't eat soul coins," she said, her tone a mixture of gentle resignation and muted frustration.
"You could drain the soul within the coin," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with weariness, "use its essence to heal the gnome."
Ramona's reaction was immediate, her gaze turning to him with a mixture of disbelief and unease. "Darbakh," her voice held a note of reproach, "you've changed since we've been here. Avernus has affected you."
Darbakh's retort was swift, his words a reminder of a truth he had long held. "I've always been like this," he countered, his tone firm, unyielding.
The exchange carried a weight that went beyond the immediate conversation, a glimpse into the facets of their characters that had been honed by the harshness of their surroundings. In the midst of Avernus, even the most fundamental aspects of their identities had been reshaped, sculpted by a realm that demanded their survival at any cost.
A brief pause followed, a quiet interlude in which their gazes held, each trying to make sense of the other's perspective. Then, the conversation shifted, a new topic rising to the surface.
"But…you’re right. We Do need food," Darbakh's voice was a pragmatic acknowledgment of a stark reality. "Without sustenance, we won't last long."
Ramona's expression tightened, a shadow of concern crossing her features. "I know," she replied, the weariness in her voice mirrored by the countless others who shared their plight. “Half the health problems here would be solved by proper nutrition.”
And then, as if to offer a sliver of hope amidst the grim reality, Ramona shared the news that the hobgoblins had brought. "The hobgoblins confirmed it, by the way," she said, her voice carrying a mix of relief and resignation. "Elturel ascended, left Avernus behind. But they left us here."
The words carried a weight that was impossible to ignore—a revelation that both offered a glimmer of hope and underscored the harsh truth that they had been left to fend for themselves in the Nine Hells.
Ramona's voice held a somber note as she repeated the news, her words a reminder of the cruel fate that had befallen them. But as her voice trailed off, Darbakh remained silent, his gaze fixed upon the cave floor. The weight of the revelation hung heavily in the air, a reality that cast its shadow over their already burdened souls.
"I'll forage after I've taken a nap," Darbakh's voice broke the silence, the words a practical response to the harsh reality that governed their existence. With a nod, he turned away, his heavy steps leading him towards the hollow he had carved out for himself within the cave's rocky walls.
Ramona watched him go, her gaze following his form as he disappeared into the shadows. The silence persisted, a tangible presence that seemed to envelop the cave and all within it. As the minutes ticked by, the quiet of the cave became a reflection of the collective despondency that had settled over its inhabitants.
Again, good work - except for the large space formatting between paragraphs, especially if it's only one line of text. - Might be just me, but it's somehow disrupting the flow when reading.
It’s not just you. I think I’ve fixed the spacing issue, but let’s see how it looks once I hit the post button.
A landscape marred by crags and gullies that bore the scars of battles fought and lost. Here, amid the tumultuous remnants of war, silence reigned as Darbakh and two hobgoblins ventured forward. The air was heavy with the acrid stench of smoldering detritus and the faint, sickly-sweet tang of demon ichor.
The crags jutted like broken bones from the earth, their rugged forms a testament to the merciless violence that had shaped this realm. Pools of ichor gleamed like sinister jewels, their luminescent hues a stark contrast to the ashen landscape that stretched beyond. The war machine that lay smoldering in the distance seemed to embody the echoes of a battle that had long since faded, its charred remnants bearing witness to the merciless march of time.
Amid this desolation, the trio moved forward in silence. Darbakh's heavy footsteps echoed in the stillness, a resounding reminder of their presence amidst the barren landscape. The two hobgoblins moved with an air of vigilance, their movements practiced and cautious as they navigated the treacherous terrain.
Scouring the landscape of crags and gullies, their movements were methodical and practiced. Amongst the war detritus and pools of ichor, they unearthed remnants of the past—the broken fragments of weapons, scorched armor, and the haunting echoes of battles that had raged and subsided.
Amidst the wreckage, a figure lay sprawled—a surviving human cultist of Yeenoghu, his body battered and dehydrated. Alive, yet barely so, the cultist's eyes held a hollow, haunted look. Darbakh's gaze fell upon the figure, a glint of intent within his eyes.
With a brusque efficiency, Darbakh robbed the prone cultist of every item of value, his actions swift and unapologetic. The hobgoblins watched in silence, their expressions unreadable, a testament to the pragmatism that governed their actions.
One of the hobgoblins dared to break the silence, his voice carrying a note of disapproval. "Leaving him alive is cruelty which serves no purpose," the hobgoblin remarked, his gaze directed at the cultist.
Darbakh's response was as curt as it was dismissive. "Do it yourself if you feel so inclined," he retorted, his tone holding a touch of irritation.
The duergar’s gaze remained steady, unwavering, a challenge that hung between them. And then, without further words, the hobgoblin’s spear struck true, ending the cultist's suffering with a swift and merciful blow.
The silence returned, a palpable presence that underscored the gravity of their actions. Darbakh and the hobgoblin resumed their scavenging, each movement a testament to the bleak reality that governed their existence. Amidst their industry, the backdrop of dripping caught Darbakh's attention. In Avernus, a land bereft of comfort, the promise of water held an allure that was impossible to ignore. At the end of a gully, he stood, his gaze scanning the terrain ahead.
But then, a pause—a subtle shift in the air that set his instincts on edge. The silence seemed to stretch unnaturally, the quietude too complete, as if the very land held its breath. Darbakh's grip on his maul tightened, a subtle indication of the tension that coiled within him.
And then, a presence revealed itself—a figure hidden behind a rock, concealed from sight but not from Darbakh's watchful gaze. The being's form was shrouded, a mixture of shadow and uncertainty. But even as Darbakh's maul remained poised, ready to strike, a voice pierced the silence—a voice that reached him not through the air, but through the unspoken connection of telepathy.
“Spare me, child of Laduguer,” the voice echoed in his mind. “Spare me, please, for I’ve done you no wrong.”
"Begging for one's life has become a common sound in this accursed land," Darbakh's voice broke the silence, a low rumble that held a tinge of cynicism.
Within the confines of their telepathic exchange, the being's plea echoed—an intelligent plea that held a note of desperation. The symphony of vulnerability reverberated across their thoughts, a refrain that spoke to the fragile dance of survival in Avernus.
“I’ve used the last of my magic to shield this corner from outside eyes and ears…this protection extends to you too, duergar. Please listen to me in return for my courtesy.”
Darbakh stood poised, his maul held in readiness as he watched the concealed figure behind the rock. “I asked nothing of you, thus I owe you nothing for a gift freely given,” he replied callously.
Through the silent channels of telepathy, the being's voice resounded, articulate and measured. It spoke with a precision that defied the harshness of Avernus. “I humbly request a parley with you. Please, grant me moments to explain my offer. My lifeblood spills from me as we speak.”
The cynicism within Darbakh simmered, a skepticism that lingered beneath the surface of his steady gaze.
"Begging takes many forms," Darbakh's response was a low rumble, a voice that held an edge of challenge. "But I'm intrigued. What kind of deal would an accursed creature like you offer?"
“The utmost of my ability, child of Laduguer. I beg of you with a sense of urgency, for my time is short. I shan’t deny you a thing which is within my power.”
The being's telepathic voice conveyed its words, its intent—words that held promises that Darbakh wasn't inclined to believe. Yet, his pragmatism forced him to consider the possibilities. He spoke aloud, his voice carrying a stark pragmatism. "You think me a fool to believe a devil? Provide me with food and water, free of charge or exchange, before I even consider parley."
A bottle that rolled out from behind the rock, coming to a stop at Darbakh's feet. “This is all I have, and I now bestow it upon you. Distilled water from the prime material plane, taken from mortals not unlike yourself.”
He eyed the bottle with caution, his grip on his maul unwavering. The being's claim—that the water was safe to drink—raised an unspoken question. "Taken from mortals, you say?" he retorted, a skeptical edge in his voice.
The being's telepathic response was swift, an assertion of its claim. "Indeed. Mortals whose lives had already been claimed by the wretchedness of this realm. Their souls have long departed."
Without a word, Darbakh picked up the bottle and stowed it within his pack. "I'll be the judge of its safety," he grumbled, his tone holding a note of distrust.
The being's desperation was palpable—a plea that echoed through the silence. It begged for a chance, a reprieve, and in its words, Darbakh could discern the truth of its situation. "If you know me for what I am—an infernal being—then you also know that I can die a permanent death upon this cursed land," it implored, the urgency in its voice a stark contrast to the desolate surroundings.
Darbakh's voice cut through the stillness, a low rumble that carried across the barren landscape. "Stand up. Reveal yourself. If you wish to parley, do so face-to-face."
“Swear to your honor as one of the duergar, as a being of law, that you won’t strike me down.”
"I swear on my honor that I will not strike you down on sight, should you reveal yourself," his voice echoed across the crags and gullies, a vow that held the potential to shift the course of their interaction.
And then, the being emerged—a pitiful figure that crawled from behind the rock, a silhouette of wretchedness that bore the scars of torment and suffering. Darbakh's gaze bore into the being, his people's psionic resistance an unassailable barrier against illusions or disguises. What he saw wasn’t a trick.
The sight that met his eyes was one of tragedy—a blue abishai, a once-proud devil of Avernus, now reduced to a limping heap of scales and suffering. Its wings, once a symbol of its power, were clipped, its form mutilated by cruel hands. The abishai's right arm was reduce to an enflamed stump, its tail truncated—a testament to the cruelties it had endured. Blindness veiled its gaze, a once-piercing regard that had been extinguished.
The abishai leaned heavily on a thorny stick, a crutch that supported its wounded form. One leg bore the cruel mark of an impaling arrow, the pain evident in the way it held itself. Blood seeped from its wounds, a testament to its brokenness—a being teetering on the edge of permanence in a realm defined by torment.
Darbakh's gaze remained fixed upon the abishai, a mask of grim resolve replacing any inkling of pity. His eyes bore into the wretched form before him, his voice laced with an impatient demand. "Speak. You're near death's embrace, and I have no time for games. What can you offer me?"
The abishai's voice emerged, a weary echo that held the weight of its dire circumstance. "I am Pendor," it introduced itself, a name that seemed to hang in the air like a lament.
Darbakh's response was swift, his words delivered with a merciless bluntness. "I won't pity a fiend."
Pendor's retort was tinged with sorrow, a response that carried the echoes of an existence steeped in suffering. "Are your people—the Duergar—so different from the fiends you despise?"
The words hung in the air, a challenge that sought to peel back the layers of Darbakh's perspective. But he met it with a stern resolve, a hardness that seemed etched into his very being. "Don't assume anything about me," his voice was cold, a rebuke that cut through the melancholic undertones of the exchange. "Just get on with your story."
Pendor's voice emerged, a warped reflection of its tortured form. The words bore the weight of its misery as it began to weave its tale—an account that echoed with the cadence of suffering.
"I was tasked by Tiamat," Pendor's voice was a discordant symphony, each note marked by a tinge of anguish. "To guard a shrine in her honor—a shrine that stood as a testament to her dominion over these accursed realms."
The abishai's words held a resonance, a connection to a power far beyond their own comprehension. It spoke of a city—an unnamed city, though the truth lay veiled beneath its words. As the city was pulled into the fiery abyss of Avernus, the very fabric of reality seemed to tremble. With the city's descent came an escalation of demonic assaults—an unholy tide that sought to claim all that lay within its reach.
Pendor's words trembled with the weight of its own demise—a tale of brutal torment that had brought it to the brink of destruction. "As the city fell, so did I—pulled to the very ground, my form torn asunder by the relentless forces that define Avernus."
Darbakh's query was terse, a question that cut through the dissonance of Pendor's story. "Dretches, was it?"
But Pendor's response was a stark denial, a revelation that shattered the assumptions of the duergar. "No. It was the humans—the cultists of Yeenoghu. They were more savage than even the gnolls or the demons themselves."
For the first time in their conversation, Darbakh’s demeanor softened. “Aye. I’ve met few creatures as brutal and spiteful as humans.”
The gravity of the statement lingered, a chilling reminder of the horrors that lurked within the Nine Hells. As Pendor’s voice trembled with the weight of its impending doom, its words bore a lament that cut to the core of its existence. "I stand at the precipice of non-existence, having failed my Lady Tiamat. There is no recourse, no salvation—only the embrace of oblivion awaits me."
Darbakh's retort cut through the air, his voice a cold edge that bore the weight of his disdain. "Sounds like you got what you deserved."
The impact of Darbakh's words was palpable, an assault on the fragile threads of Pendor's dignity. The abishai's form quivered, its frailty juxtaposed against the tempest of emotions that churned within it. The air crackled with tension, and Pendor's voice emerged with a note of apoplectic offense. "You judge me without knowing my true plight," its words trembled, a bitter retort that carried the weight of its offense.
Darbakh's indifference held steadfast, his voice a stark counterpoint to Pendor's outrage. "You're a devil, aren't you? Probably dragged souls down into this hell."
But Pendor's denial was swift, its response a vehement protest against the accusations leveled upon it. "No, I—"
“Whatever. Go on, make your sales pitch.”
"Please, have mercy," its voice was laden with vulnerability, a plea that spoke of desperation as much as it did of hope. The abishai's gaze bore into Darbakh's, a plea that transcended the confines of their stark reality—a plea that sought the grace of compassion amidst the unrelenting cruelty of Avernus. “I offer you my soul in return.”
Pendor's offer hung in the air, a revelation that cut through the gloom with a note of bewilderment. Darbakh's confusion was palpable—a sentiment mirrored in his furrowed brow and narrowed gaze. "Your soul? Devils take the souls of mortals, not trade their own."
But Pendor's response carried a resonance of stark reality, a truth that defied the conventional understanding of their roles. "In this land, the rules are different. Should you meet your end in Avernus, your soul would journey to its rightful afterlife plane. My fate would be sealed—permanently dead."
Darbakh’s heavy eyebrows wiggled curiously. “So devils can be permanently killed? Good to know.”
The revelation hung between them, a chilling reminder of the abyss that awaited Pendor—a fate that now stood in stark contrast to the cycle of souls that defined Avernus. Pendor's voice carried a weight of desperation as it outlined its proposal, its words laced with a solemn commitment. "I can offer my own soul—the last vestiges of natural magic from my former life can bind my eternal essence to your service. You’ll be initiated into the beast master conclave."
Darbakh's response was abrupt, his words a stark contrast to the weight of the exchange. "That sounds dumb."
The offense that danced across Pendor's visage was palpable—a flicker of wounded pride that shimmered in its gaze. The abishai's voice emerged with a tremor, a note of hurt that cut through the air with a wounded edge. "Dumb? You dare to—"
“Besides, what does a devil have to do with…what is it, beast conclave? Nature stuff?”
Pendor's response emerged, a cascade of words that bore the weight of its revelation—a story that transcended the confines of their present reality. "A master of primal beasts isn't dumb," its voice was laced with a thread of fervent sincerity, a testament to the significance that underscored the honor it spoke of. "It's a great honor—one that carries the weight of ages and the echoes of power."
As the abishai's voice wove its tale, the truth of its existence unfolded—a narrative that spanned realms and dimensions, bridging the divide between dragon and fiend. "In mortal life, I served my lady Tiamat in a different form—a cleric of the nature domain. But death did not mark the end of my journey. Tiamat raised me from the ashes of mortality, transforming me into a blue abishai—a fiendish manifestation that carries the essence of my former self."
“So you were a cleric, then you were a devil?”
"Yes. My soul transitioned, but the core of who I am remained untouched, as is common to fiendish spirits borne of mortals with strong personalities. I am a testament to the fluidity of existence, the way one's essence can transcend the boundaries of form."
The abishai's tale was a tapestry woven with threads of power and fate—a story that now reached a crucial juncture, a crossroads that held the promise of redemption. "I offer you this bond—a pact that binds my essence to your service. My soul, my power, my experience—yours to command in primal form. In return, you will become a master of beasts, a shepherd to my essence. With your consent, I can be reformed once more—a second chance in the face of failure."
Pendor's words carried the weight of its plea, a fervent desire that sought the solace of redemption even as its own form teetered on the edge of dissolution. But amidst its eloquence, the abishai's voice was punctuated by moments of frailty—coughs that rent through the air, echoes of its fading vitality. The narrative seemed to dance on the edge of its own fragility, the tension of its confession interwoven with the somber reality of its condition.
Darbakh's response held the weight of indifference, his voice a tired sigh that seemed to underscore his disinterest. "If I say yes, are you going to stop bleeding all over the place and go fetch me some damn food?"
Pendor's visage quivered with a mixture of offense and solemnity—an intricate dance of emotions that played across the canvas of its form. The abishai's voice carried the weight of its wounded pride, a note of indignation that underscored its response. "You treat my oath with disrespect, but know that I am bound by my word. If you agree, I shall harness the last vestige of who I was in mortal life to cease this infernal bleeding, and I shall hunt for sustenance for you in my new form."
The scene hung in the balance, the pivotal moment of their exchange teetering between decision and uncertainty. Pendor's desperation was palpable, an echo of its fading vitality that resonated in the depths of its gaze—a plea that seemed to emanate from the very core of its existence. The gravity of its situation was etched across its form, a testament to the dire nature of its plight.
Amidst this tension, Darbakh's response emerged—a flippant declaration that seemed to ripple through the air with an air of detachment. "Sure, whatever."
And so, the moment passed—a pact forged amidst the desolation of Avernus, a bond that transcended the realms of mortal and fiend. Pendor's feeble hand released its grip on the thorny stick, its strength faltering as the abishai's form sank to the ground. The creature settled into a morose tableau, seated amidst the macabre pool of its own blood. Darbakh's cautious inquiry followed, a hint of wariness in his voice. "Do I have to sign anything?"
Pendor's response was swift, its voice carrying the weight of its dwindling strength. "No, this is a primal agreement, not an infernal one."
As the abishai's breath grew shallower, Darbakh's words carried a tinge of skepticism. "Doesn't make sense. Nature spirits don’t come from the lower planes."
Pendor's form seemed to quiver with the effort of maintaining coherence, the lines of its visage etched with exhaustion. The abishai was too spent to engage in verbal combat, its very existence teetering on the precipice of dissolution. It traced intricate runes in the air, each gesture crackling with an arc of electric energy. Words in the ancient Primordial language flowed from its lips, and comprehension dawned on Darbakh's features with a wince and a grunt.
"What… What are you doing?" Darbakh's voice bore a note of urgency, tinged with a growing sense of unease.
But Pendor's response was swift—a final act of sorcery that marked the culmination of its existence. Its form crumbled into ash, the last vestiges of its being dissipating into the air. And amidst this ethereal dissolution, its voice persisted—a plea that echoed through the void, a solemn request that lingered even as its form disintegrated. "Guard my new body during incubation."
The abishai's words resonated with a sense of mystery, a term left unexplained as its essence drained into the form of a sapphire egg—a precious vessel that bore the culmination of Pendor's sacrifice. Darbakh's gaze fell upon the egg with a greedy hunger, avarice mingling with curiosity. His response was terse, casual in its indifference.
"Cool."
No sooner had the scaly devil disintegrated than had the audial veil fallen from that corner of the ravine, and Darbakh’s voice could be heard again. One of the hobgoblins sought him out immediately. The goblinoid’s arrival was unassuming, its footsteps soft against the rocky ground as it approached Darbakh. It cast an inquisitive gaze upon him, a simple question in its eyes as it spoke. "What did you find?"
For a fleeting moment, Darbakh's eyes lingered on the sapphire egg nestled within his palm—a relic of power that held within it the culmination of Pendor's desperate sacrifice. Then, with a practiced nonchalance, he concealed the egg within his pocket. His response was casual, as if the moment held no greater weight than the trinket he claimed to have discovered. "Found a bottle of water."
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Under the somber hues of Avernus' crimson sky, a muted sense of camaraderie seemed to flicker within the small encampment that had taken root outside the cave. Ulthian's watchful presence crowned a rocky perch, his gaze sweeping the barren expanse as his thoughts danced between the unfamiliar faces below.
Amidst this quiet tableau, Ramona's hands moved with a quiet sense of purpose, her efforts concentrated on a makeshift cooking station. Distilled water from the bottle Darbakh had found bore the promise of nourishment, and as the water was transformed into a simmering stew, the aroma of meager sustenance mingled with the stagnant air.
Around the circle of refugees, wearied souls came together, their faces etched with a shared sense of fatigue. In subdued unity, they offered what help they could, a communal effort to ensure that the available nourishment was spread as evenly as possible. Their cooperation, born of necessity, lent a fragile touch of normalcy to their desperate situation.
Darbakh sat apart from the group, his figure hunched over as he carved shapes into the rocks that lay within his grasp. The flicker of a fire illuminated his work, casting fleeting shadows that danced upon the raw materials beneath his hands. The animal figures he created bore a rough elegance, simple yet filled with an innate charm.
As the stew bubbled and the firelight cast its gentle glow, the scene spoke of resilience—a quiet determination to find solace even amidst the desolation. The mood, though tinged with weariness and melancholy, carried a note of unity—a shared struggle that bound together disparate souls within the unforgiving embrace of Avernus.
As the stew was portioned out and shared among the hushed gathering, a soft-spoken conversation blossomed in one corner of the encampment. Maisa, her dark eyes reflecting a blend of fatigue and unwavering spirit, engaged Ramona in a momentary reprieve from their arduous existence.
Ramona's tired gaze met Maisa's as she accepted her bowl, a small smile tugging at her lips in response to Maisa's friendly banter. "Can't complain, dear. Just another day in this infernal landscape," she quipped, her voice carrying a touch of good-natured resignation.
Maisa's laughter, though punctuated by fits of coughing, held a resilience that couldn't be dampened by the harsh surroundings. "You've got that right, Ramona. At least the demons don't know how to make our tea, eh?" Her chuckles were laced with determination, a testament to her ability to find light even in the darkest of places.
The occasional cough punctuated their conversation, a reminder of the fragility of their bodies in this hostile environment. Yet, as Maisa's laughter rekindled after each bout of coughing, her spirit remained unbroken—a quiet rebellion against the trials they faced.
While the less martially-inclined among the Elturel survivors took their meal, Darbakh looked up to see the two hobgoblins beckoning him away from view of the others. He followed their gestures to Ulthian, who was beckoning all three of them from his perch.
Silent gestures passed between Darbakh and the hobgoblins as they descended from their respective vantage points. With stealth honed by necessity, they converged on the hill where the half-elf had kept watch, their presence masked from the rest of the encampment.
Ulthian's voice was a low murmur, just above the breeze that carried the scent of sulfur across Avernus' bleak landscape. "We've got company," he whispered, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the infernal machines appeared as specks against the fiery sky. "They've only just appeared, no more than a minute ago."
The duo of hobgoblins, seasoned by the trials of their existence, nodded in silent understanding. Darbakh's stern expression revealed no surprise—he was the epitome of vigilance. Together, they huddled on the hill, crouching in the midst of desolation.
As the approaching caravan grew more distinct, the distant thrum of its engines reverberated in the air, a cacophony that underscored the grim reality of their world. Infernal machines, both twisted and menacing, trundled across the barren terrain, casting long shadows over the ashen landscape.
Huddled together on the hill, the quartet exchanged hushed whispers as they strained to catch any glimpse of the approaching caravan. Shadows danced across their faces, cast by the infernal machines that gradually grew in size and clarity.
"Who do you reckon they might be?" Darbakh's gravelly voice punctuated the stillness, his eyes narrowed as he squinted at the emerging convoy. Their conversation was punctuated by the distant rumble of engines and the occasional clatter of metal.
Ulthian's brow furrowed, concern etched into his features. "This could be a war party," he voiced his worry, his gaze never wavering from the unfolding scene.
One of the hobgoblins shook its head, its voice barely more than a whisper. "Nah, not a war party. Look at them, their armor's patchwork and their weapons aren't heavy enough. These are probably scavengers or traders."
The other hobgoblin nodded in agreement. "Yeah, they might be hoping to salvage something valuable from the wreckage of the battles that happen around here."
Darbakh listened to their assessment, a mixture of suspicion and cautious optimism on his face. The infernal war machines continued to draw closer, their distinct shapes and features becoming more apparent.
As the caravan finally came to a halt in a circular formation, the details of their occupants began to emerge. Patched armor, mismatched weapons, and a lack of uniformity painted a picture of a group far removed from the disciplined ranks of a war party.
Ulthian's shoulders relaxed slightly, his worry shifting to something less dire. "You might be right," he conceded to the hobgoblins, his eyes never leaving the caravan. "Scavengers or traders, then. Though that doesn't necessarily mean they're harmless."
Amidst the uncertainty of the situation, their hushed conversation continued. The four figures huddled together, voices low as they weighed their options.
"We could wait for them to pass," Ulthian suggested, his gaze flickering between the war machines. "It might be safer."
One of the hobgoblins scratched its head, its brow furrowed in thought. "Or we could keep watching. See what they're up to, if they're a threat or not."
Before they could settle on a course of action, Darbakh's voice cut through the air, his tone gruff and resolute. "We'll approach them."
The others turned their attention to the duergar, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity. Ulthian tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied Darbakh. "Are you sure? It might be dangerous."
Darbakh's gaze met Ulthian's without hesitation. "We’re in Hell - literally. We'll either starve or die eventually. Might as well risk a bit of conflict to change that fate."
The half-elf and the hobgoblins exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between them. It was a stark reminder of the harsh reality they all faced in Avernus.
"Alright," one of the hobgoblins spoke up, nodding its head in Darbakh's direction. "What's the plan then? How do we approach?"
Darbakh's lips curled in a wry smile, the flickering light of determination in his eyes. "We approach with caution. Stick together. Don't let them surround us. If they're hostile, we get out."
His companions nodded in understanding, their resolve firm. With the plan set, they watched as the group of scavengers or traders continued their activity below. It was a calculated risk, a step into the unknown, but it was a risk that offered a glimmer of hope in the desolate wasteland of Avernus.
As the group deliberated on their approach, Darbakh's directive took shape. He turned to Ulthian and one of the hobgoblins, pointing to where they were perched on the hill. "Stay here, just in case things go wrong. If they're hostile, the refugees need a place to hide."
Ulthian nodded in agreement, his expression focused and serious. The hobgoblin beside him gave a quick salute, acknowledging the order without a word.
Leaving them to their vantage point, Darbakh cast a glance back toward the cave where the refugees were gathered. His gaze held a mix of determination and concern. "And don't tell the others about the caravan yet. No point in raising false hope."
With those instructions given, Darbakh turned his attention to the second hobgoblin, a silent nod communicating their next move. Together, the two of them descended the hillside, boots crunching on the rocky ground as they approached the mysterious caravan.
The war machines loomed larger as they drew nearer, and the sight of them became more detailed. The rhythmic thudding of their footsteps seemed to sync with the rapid beating of Darbakh's heart, a steady cadence in the midst of uncertainty. His eyes flicked over to the hobgoblin by his side, and he gave a brisk nod. It was time to find out who these newcomers were and whether they posed a threat or an opportunity in the unforgiving landscape of Avernus.
The tension in the air was palpable as Darbakh and the hobgoblin drew closer to the caravan, their weapons held at their sides but not yet drawn. They were not alone in their approach, however, as keen senses allowed them to detect the presence of an invisible imp tailing them. The tiny devil's unease became apparent when it realized it had been discovered, and its jittery voice cut through the silence.
"Ah, well, fancy meeting you here," the imp stammered nervously. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, and it seems you're heading to the Wandering Emporium. Hope you're not planning on using those weapons of yours, eh?"
The imp's words were laced with anxiety, but its invitation carried a glimmer of hope. Darbakh exchanged a quick glance with the hobgoblin, his skepticism evident. Nonetheless, the imp's mention of the Wandering Emporium had piqued their curiosity, and it was clear they were willing to hear more. As they moved closer, guided by the imp's unseen presence, the landscape began to shift before their eyes. A once desolate expanse transformed into a spectacle of vibrant colors and bustling activity. The Emporium materialized before them, an otherworldly bazaar unlike anything they had seen before.
Tents of various sizes and shapes sprawled across the scorched earth, adorned with intricate patterns and vibrant fabrics. Merchants and traders hawked their wares, their voices weaving a chaotic symphony of languages and dialects. A monstrous beholder floated above, its central eye surveying the crowd with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. A cavalcade of fiends and mortals meandered through the market, their intentions as diverse as the goods on display. Unique and exotic creatures, many of them beyond Darbakh's imagining, prowled the makeshift streets. Some patrons browsed without worry, while others haggled and bartered, their laughter and banter creating an oddly festive atmosphere.
In the midst of this surreal gathering, Darbakh and the hobgoblin stood as outsiders, drawn into a spectacle that defied the bleakness of Avernus. As the imp led them deeper into the Emporium, the offerings became even more fantastical—a veritable carnival of curiosities, from magical trinkets to peculiar beasts, each more fantastical than the last.
As Darbakh and the hobgoblin navigated the lively chaos of the Wandering Emporium, the imp's presence remained a constant reminder that their every move was being observed. The imp's voice cut through the clamor as it began to ask a series of seemingly innocuous questions, its tone falsely genial.
"So, what brings you to the Emporium?" the imp inquired, its voice a curious sing-song.
Darbakh exchanged a wary look with the hobgoblin, his suspicion growing. They had learned to be cautious in this unforgiving realm, and the imp's overly friendly demeanor only heightened their wariness. Nonetheless, they offered a vague answer.
"Just curious about what's on offer," Darbakh replied, his tone guarded.
The imp's eyes gleamed with something that might have been amusement, and it pressed further. "Ah, curiosity is a fine thing indeed. And what do you intend to trade, if anything?"
Darbakh's gaze flickered to the assortment of peculiar wares around them, his response calculated. "Depends on what catches our eye."
The imp's feigned smile widened, its questions becoming more pointed. "And are you looking for anything in particular? Or perhaps someone?"
The duergar's jaw tensed as he sensed the imp's intentions becoming clearer. His instinct to withhold information kicked in, and he replied with an air of casual indifference, "Just browsing, devil."
The imp's eyes bore into Darbakh, its facade of friendliness slipping for a fraction of a second before returning with even more sweetness. "Understood, friend. Darbakh, I believe is what the half-elf refers to you as?"
The imp's probing took a more direct turn as it inquired about Darbakh's name. The duergar's patience, already frayed, snapped like a brittle twig. His grip tightened around the imp's neck in an involuntary surge of anger, cutting off its words and its breath.
"Say my name again," Darbakh growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Say my name without permission one more time, I dare you.”
The imp's eyes widened in genuine surprise and fear, struggling against Darbakh's iron grip. It managed to sputter, "Sorry, sir…I was…just curious…"
The surrounding bazaar hummed with activity, bizarre and chaotic as patrons haggled over bizarre and fantastical wares. Darbakh's display of aggression drew little attention, lost in the midst of the Emporium's peculiar commerce.
The hobgoblin sensed the tension and subtly laid a hand on Darbakh's arm, attempting to diffuse the situation without alerting onlookers. He murmured, his voice measured, "Easy, friend. We're here for information, not a brawl."
Darbakh's grip on the imp relaxed slightly, and the imp coughed and gasped for breath as it pulled away, its expression a mix of fear and indignation. Darbakh's glower didn't waver, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.
"Remember this, devil," Darbakh hissed, his voice a venomous whisper. "You’re mortal on your own plane. Stay out of our business."
Emerging seemingly out of thin air, Mahadi materialized behind Darbakh and the hobgoblin. His presence was both disconcerting and strangely fitting in the chaotic atmosphere of the Emporium. Mahadi was a tall and elegant man, his charismatic appearance hinting at a mixture of charm and unsettling mystery. His impeccably tailored clothes spoke of both luxury and authority, the perfect ensemble for a host of this enigmatic bazaar.
Mahadi's dark eyes fixed on Darbakh and the hobgoblin, his gaze piercing and calculating. His smile was amiable, but there was a sense that something far deeper lay beneath the surface.
"Well, well," he said in a voice that oozed with intrigue. "What do we have here? New visitors to my Emporium, seeking something, I presume?"
The hobgoblin glanced between Darbakh and Mahadi before speaking up. "We've come in search of food and water," he replied, his tone respectful yet firm. "We're willing to trade."
Mahadi's interest seemed to deepen as he regarded them. "Ah, sustenance," he mused. "A most essential commodity in these treacherous lands." He took a step closer, his eyes seemingly appraising them in a way that went beyond the surface. "I believe I might just have what you're looking for," Mahadi continued. "But first, allow me to welcome you to the Wandering Emporium. I am Mahadi, the purveyor of this fine establishment."
As he spoke, the hubbub of the bazaar seemed to ebb and flow around them, creating a strange pocket of focus amidst the chaos. It was as if Mahadi's words held a gravitational pull, demanding attention.
Darbakh's grip remained clenched, his expression wary, as he studied Mahadi. He had no trust to spare for strangers, especially in Avernus. But Mahadi's appearance seemed to be more than mere coincidence. As his gaze lingered on Mahadi's enigmatic smile, he couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was far from accidental.
With a nod, Mahadi turned his attention to the hobgoblin. "Food and water, you say? Excellent. Follow me, my friends," he said, gesturing toward a grand tent that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly allure. "I believe I have just the provisions you need."
Darbakh exchanged a cautious glance with the hobgoblin before following Mahadi toward the tent, his wariness masked behind a veneer of stoic determination. In a place like Avernus, where every offer carried its own price, he knew better than to accept anything at face value. But Mahadi's appearance and the timing of their encounter left him with no choice but to see where this path might lead.
"My dear guests," Mahadi said with a gracious bow, his demeanor shifting seamlessly from intrigue to hospitality. "Might I have the pleasure of offering you a truly exquisite dining experience at my establishment, the Infernal Rapture? A respite from the harshness of Avernus, where you can savor flavors that defy the infernal landscape."
Darbakh's eyes narrowed at the mention of the restaurant, his suspicions mounting. He shook his head, his tone resolute. "We need provisions we can take with us, not a sit-down meal."
Mahadi's smile never wavered, his politeness unwavering. "Ah, I see," he said, his words dripping with charm. "A more practical request, indeed. Allow me to accommodate your needs, my friends." As the hobgoblin echoed Darbakh's insistence on provisions to go, Mahadi's demeanor remained cordial. "Very well, provisions it shall be. But might I inquire— are there other weary travelers with you, perhaps in need of sustenance as well?"
Darbakh exchanged a quick glance with the hobgoblin. He wasn't sure whether Mahadi's concern was genuine or if there was another motive behind his question. The idea of revealing the presence of the refugees crossed his mind briefly, but he quickly dismissed it. Trusting strangers in Avernus was a luxury they couldn't afford.
Darbakh exchanged a quick, guarded glance with the hobgoblin. "We need provisions for several mouths to food," he responded, his tone evasive yet cautious. “Can you provide that?”
"Indeed," Mahadi said, his gaze shifting between Darbakh and the hobgoblin. "And might I inquire, good sir, what name you go by?"
Darbakh's gaze remained fixed on Mahadi, his expression revealing nothing. He didn't trust the charming facade that this figure presented; it was all too easy for a devil to weave illusions and manipulate perceptions in Avernus.
The hobgoblin shifted uneasily before speaking up. "You can call me Five," he replied, his voice tense.
"Ah, but is 'Five' your true name?" Mahadi asked, his tone lightly quizzical.
Five's gaze darted towards Darbakh, seeking guidance. Darbakh's response was a subtle shake of his head. The hobgoblin turned back to Mahadi, his expression resigned. "Just call me Five."
Mahadi's lips curved into a faint smile, though there was a hint of skepticism in his eyes. "Very well, Five," he said, acknowledging the response without further probing. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Mahadi's smile widened, revealing gleaming teeth as he gestured toward the chests. "Gentlemen, I understand the hardships you face in this desolate realm. That's why I'm prepared to offer you a most generous deal. Five soul coins worth of provisions for only one soul coin."
Five's eyes widened at the mention of provisions, his hunger evident in his expression. He shifted slightly, drawn to the chests like a moth to a flame.
Darbakh, however, remained unmoved by the offer. He regarded Mahadi with a stern expression, his skepticism undiminished. "I don't believe in a free lunch," he stated flatly, his voice carrying a note of caution.
Mahadi chuckled softly, his amusement undeterred by Darbakh's suspicion. "Ah, a shrewd observer, I see. Rest assured, my friend, I have no intention of insulting your intelligence or your instincts."
The devil's words held a certain charm, a silky smoothness that was as enticing as it was unsettling. Darbakh's gaze remained fixed on Mahadi, his stance unyielding. He wasn't one to be swayed easily, not by grand offers or honeyed words. Whatever Mahadi's intentions, Darbakh was determined to uncover them before making any deals.
"As a fellow resident of this land of trials, I understand the value of maintaining one's principles," Mahadi continued, his tone carrying a hint of respect. "I offer this deal in the spirit of mutual benefit. But the choice is yours, and yours alone."
“And what do you ask in return for that choice?” the duergar asked.
Mahadi's eyes sparkled with amusement as he continued, his charismatic voice weaving its way into the conversation. "First, I do ask that you kindly return my humble chests once they've served their purpose." He chuckled heartily, his laughter resonating through the air. "Though, I assure you, they are but simple containers, hardly comparable to the value of a soul coin."
Five's smile widened at Mahadi's jovial tone, his appetite for the provisions evidently outweighing any concerns he might have had. However, Darbakh remained stoic, his features unchanged by the merchant’s humor. He regarded Mahadi with an unyielding expression, his wariness etched into every line of his face.
Mahadi's gaze shifted slightly as he nodded in the direction of Darbakh’s clenched fist. "Second, it seems my dear little employee has been overwhelmed by your display of strength," he remarked, a note of amusement in his voice. "I do believe he's passed out from the excitement. Might I ask you to release him?"
Darbakh's grip on the imp loosened, allowing it to slump to the ground as Mahadi's laughter filled the air once more. The Emporium’s owner seemed to find the situation rather amusing, but Darbakh's expression remained unchanged. He didn't appear to share in the laughter, his gaze steady as he watched Mahadi.
Mahadi's demeanor shifted from lightheartedness to something more earnest as he leaned in slightly, his eyes locking onto Darbakh's. "Now, for the last piece of our arrangement," he began, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity. "I humbly ask that you and your companion return here after some rest, and bring along one other representative of your group."
Five's brow furrowed slightly in confusion. "Why?" he asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and caution.
Mahadi offered a small, apologetic smile. "I'm afraid I'm not prepared to share the specifics just yet," he admitted. "What I can tell you is that I believe we might be able to assist each other with challenges that extend beyond this immediate exchange." His gaze shifted between Darbakh and Five, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "However, I don't wish to raise your hopes prematurely. Let's just say that I see a potential for mutual benefit, but I'd like to ensure the details are in order before we proceed."
A thoughtful silence settled over them, the weight of Mahadi's request hanging in the air. Five exchanged a quick glance with Darbakh, seeking his guidance in this matter. The duergar's gaze remained steady, his expression unreadable.
After a moment, Mahadi's voice broke the silence once more, his tone still earnest. "So, my friends, will you give me your word that you'll return, after some rest, to discuss the possibility of our mutual aid? I only ask that you return for a visit; nothing further is obligated. I understand that this is a significant commitment, and I appreciate your consideration."
The tension was palpable, the decision hanging in the balance. Five looked to Darbakh once more, his expression seeking an answer. And finally, it was Darbakh who broke the silence, his voice calm and measured. "Fair," he said simply, accepting Mahadi's terms with the weight of his own cautious agreement.
With the terms agreed upon, a warm smile spread across Mahadi's face, a flicker of genuine happiness in his eyes. He walked alongside Darbakh and Five as they made their way to the edge of the circle formed by the infernal war machines. "I'm truly delighted that we could come to an understanding," he remarked amiably, as if they had just concluded a friendly conversation. "The Wandering Emporium will remain in this very spot for some time, always ready to offer its unique wares and services whenever you might have need."
Neither Darbakh nor Five replied to his pleasantries, their expressions remaining guarded as they carried the chests of provisions. As they moved away from the bustling bazaar, the imp stirred and groaned, its invisible form materializing in a comical tumble as it coughed and sputtered, clearly bewildered by the recent turn of events.
Mahadi's laughter, rich and melodic, accompanied them for a moment longer before fading as they ventured further from the Emporium's surreal embrace.
As they approached Ulthian, Five's voice carried a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. "What do you think of that, Darbakh?"
They navigated their way back to the hidden camp nestled between the rocky outcrops, the familiar mouth of the cave welcoming them. As they entered, Ramona, a glimmer of hope in her eyes, rushed forward to greet them. "Where did you find all this food?" she inquired, her voice tinged with both wonder and disbelief.
The refugees, sensing something extraordinary, had gathered near the entrance of the cave, their tired faces now showing signs of anticipation. As Darbakh and Five revealed the chests brimming with provisions, a collective gasp of astonishment rippled through the group. The sight of such abundance, in a place where scarcity was the norm, was nothing short of miraculous.
Ramona's hands flew to her mouth as she surveyed the riches before her. "My goodness," she murmured in awe, "if we ration this properly, we could stretch these supplies for a week, maybe more. This is a blessing beyond our wildest dreams."
The camp erupted with a subdued but palpable excitement, whispers of gratitude and astonishment mingling in the air. As the refugees sprang into action, helping Ramona unpack and organize the precious provisions, her own excitement was palpable. She repeated her question absentmindedly, but her attention was fully devoted to the task at hand. The cave's interior came alive with activity, and the once-depressed souls now moved with renewed energy and a sense of hope.
Watching the scene unfold, Darbakh turned to Five with a nod. "Looks like we've got food for a while. We can figure out the rest later."
In the cave, a deep hush had settled over the sleeping refugees. Avernus offered no natural rhythm of day and night, but the collective exhaustion dictated their slumber patterns. Rows of weary bodies lay sprawled out on makeshift bedding, seeking respite from the desolation that surrounded them. The quiet was punctuated only by the soft breathing of those in dreams' embrace.
Among the resting figures, Darbakh lay in his carved-out hollow, his form shifted restlessly on the rocky surface. The silence of the cave seemed to magnify the discomfort that gnawed at his thoughts. Despite the fatigue that clung to him, his mind refused to settle.
The few half-elves and the solitary elf kept watch, their eyes half-lidded in a trance-like state. Their innate ability to remain alert during their meditation-like rest allowed the others to find temporary solace, even in this harsh realm. And yet, the sense of somber fatigue clung to the very air they breathed, a reminder that their rest was not free of the burdens they carried.
Darbakh's eyes fluttered open, the dim light of Avernus filtering into his consciousness. With a groggy movement, he pushed himself up, his eyelids heavy as he rose from the hard surface that passed for his bed. The weight of weariness pressed upon him, but an instinctual need drew him away from the still-sleeping refugees.
Barefoot and seemingly in a daze, he moved with slow, deliberate steps towards the cave entrance. His fingers curled around the fabric of his tunic, pulling it closer to his midsection, as if the urgency of his purpose demanded it. The stark reality of the Nine Hells had stripped away many pretenses, leaving only the most basic needs.
With each step, his eyes remained half-closed, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. The rhythm of his breath matched the unrelenting pulse of Avernus, as he ventured towards a secluded spot marked by necessity. In this land of desolation and suffering, even the most private moments bore the weight of the surroundings.
As Darbakh moved forward with a half-lidded gaze, his awareness sharpened as he sensed an unexpected movement within the confines of his pants. A puzzled frown crossed his face, his mumbled words a mix of confusion and mild annoyance. "What the heck...?"
Darbakh's searching fingers soon located the mysterious source of movement: a smooth, sapphire-colored egg nestled in his pocket. As he withdrew it, he was immediately struck by the weight and the unexpected warmth that radiated from its surface. His gaze fixed on the egg, his brows furrowed in a mix of astonishment and disbelief.
The egg seemed to defy the laws of nature as it began to swell in his hand, expanding like a balloon being filled with air. What had started as a small, unassuming object had now grown to a size far beyond anything Darbakh had encountered before. The sapphire surface stretched and rippled as it increased in size, its smooth texture transforming into something more intricate and textured.
He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, his heart pounding as he struggled to process the bizarre sight before him. This wasn't a dream, it was reality, and the implications of the egg's rapid growth were beyond his comprehension. Darbakh's mind raced as he considered the possibilities, his instincts warring with his skepticism.
With a mixture of trepidation and determination, Darbakh took a step back, away from the cave's entrance and the sleeping refugees. The egg, now larger than his head, hovered in the air before him, pulsating with an otherworldly energy. He was keenly aware of the isolation of the moment, the silence of Avernus seeming to intensify as he stared at the enigmatic object.
As he stood there, his thoughts swirling in a whirlwind of uncertainty, a realization dawned upon him. The egg was a manifestation of Pendor's pact, a remnant of their agreement. The abishai's last plea to protect his reformed form during incubation now held new weight and urgency.
The crackling sound of splitting sapphire echoed through the air as the egg's surface shattered, releasing an unexpected torrent of cold, liquid blue that splashed against the ground and onto Darbakh's boots. He grimaced at the sensation, his brow furrowing in displeasure at the unexpected bath. Whatever he had expected, it certainly wasn't this.
As the liquid pooled around his feet, his attention was drawn to the strange sight before him. Emerging from the confines of the egg was a bizarre, squirming mass. It looked like no creature he had ever seen, a contorted amalgamation of flesh and appendages that seemed to defy the rules of nature.
The mass, slick with the sapphire liquid, continued to bloat and stretch until it reached the size of a goblin or perhaps a small dog. A tail sprouted from its rear, twitching in a manner that suggested both confusion and discomfort. The creature possessed an organic quality, its movements suggesting a primitive form of life, driven by instinct and a will of its own.
Darbakh found himself ogling the strange creation with a mix of morbid fascination and wariness. His gaze was fixated on the creature as if he were watching a disaster unfold before him, the way street urchins might gawk at the aftermath of an industrial accident. The surreal scene seemed to encapsulate the absurdity of Avernus itself, a place where even the laws of creation could be twisted and warped beyond recognition.
The squirming mass continued its frantic motions, struggling to come to terms with its newfound existence. Darbakh's lips twisted into a half-formed grimace as he took a cautious step back, unable to tear his eyes away from the peculiar creature before him. As the writhing mass scraped at the sapphire liquid with its talons, a transformation unfolded before Darbakh's eyes. The fluid slid away, revealing the true form within—a halfling-sized bat. Its fur shimmered like the red dust of the atmosphere, glinting in the ambient light of Avernus. But the creature's demeanor was far from triumphant.
The bat let out a pitiful sound, clutching its head as if in agony. "No, no! My intelligence, my knowledge… it's slipping away!" The oversized bat's voice carried a sense of desperation, its words mingling with a sense of loss that tugged at Darbakh's own sense of unease.
Darbakh's eyes widened in recognition as the bat's voice registered in his ears. Pendor—the same abishai he had encountered days ago—now stood before him in this peculiar form. The realization was both bewildering and astonishing, adding another layer of mystique to the situation.
“Pendor? Why is your voice coming out of this ugly thing?” the duergar said while gesturing vaguely toward the writhing giant bat. “Why do you sound squeaky?”
Arching his back toward the sky, Pendor briefly convulsed as if entering a state of system shock. “I’m your primal animal companion. Our bond grants you the ability to speak to animals…my voice isn’t squeaky, it’s just what an animal of my form sounds like…oh! Oh, my head! My magic, my lore, it’s draining out of my brain! This small beast’s cranium can’t contain my previous form’s…argh!”
"Didn't expect your devilish plan to work, did you?" Darbakh's gruff voice cut through the air, laden with a mix of skepticism and amusement. His gaze shifted from the transformed animal to the remnants of the shattered egg, now spread across the ground like a bizarre mosaic of sapphire shards and liquid. "And it's even more grotesque up close."
The bat's eyes, filled with a mix of emotions that ranged from frustration to acceptance, met Darbakh's gaze. Though the creature's form had changed, there was still a flicker of the intelligence that had once resided within the abishai. The fact that this was Pendor—the same being who had bargained for its own existence—was not lost on Darbakh.
Pendor's eyes, clouded with a haze of bewilderment and the remnants of his former identity, looked up at Darbakh. The bat's posture held a hint of indignation, and his voice carried an edge of offense as he responded to Darbakh's comment. "Such a crude observation, my dear host. My transformation is not to be likened to mere grotesquery, but rather to the miraculous cycle of birth and rebirth, a gift bestowed upon us by the cosmos."
Darbakh's gaze remained fixed on the transformed abishai, his expression unyielding. "Don't go giving me any grandiose speeches," he retorted dryly. "Clean yourself up first, and mind you don't fall into the latrine. It's hard enough to stomach the scenery around here without adding to it."
Pendor's eyes flickered with a mix of exasperation and amusement, despite his evident distress. The primal animal companion let out a resigned sigh, as much as a creature of his size and form could, and gingerly began grooming himself, each gesture marked by an air of unfamiliarity. As he cleaned off the remnants of the sapphire liquid and the residue of his transformation, his voice carried a hint of something that might have been nostalgia.
"You may mock my words, but even in this form, I am beholden to fulfill my promise." Pendor's tone softened, resonating with a sense of sincerity. "I am grateful for this second chance, and I believe that it brings with it possibilities we cannot yet fathom."
"Damn right you are," Darbakh muttered with a mixture of annoyance and resignation. "You're beholden, and I don't intend to let you forget it."
He watched Pendor continue his meticulous self-grooming, only satisfied once the abishai's previous form was no longer visible beneath the iridescent fur of the primal spirit now given form. With a dismissive shake of his head, Darbakh turned away and walked back to his chosen corner of the cave. The exhaustion that had been creeping up on him settled heavily in his bones as he laid down, his body aching from the challenges of Avernus.
"Get yourself cleaned up and then follow me back," Darbakh called over his shoulder, his tone flippant despite the gravity of their circumstances. "I've got to catch some sleep before these blasted planes of existence decide to mess with us again."
A gentle nudge against Darbakh's side roused him from his restless slumber. He blinked his eyes open to find Pendor hovering near him.
"Can I help you with something?" Darbakh asked, his voice carrying the hint of a sigh.
"I… um, I wanted to ask if I could sleep next to you," Pendor replied tentatively, the words almost stumbling over each other.
Darbakh's brow furrowed as he regarded the primal bat. "Get real, Pendor. You're a servant, not a pet."
Pendor's eyes darkened, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. "Please don't speak to me in such a manner. I may be bound to you, but that doesn't mean I'm beneath dignity."
Darbakh let out a dry chuckle. "And yet, you're asking to cuddle up next to me like a lost pup. Is that the dignified behavior of a devil?"
Pendor's furry brows furrowed in consternation, but he stood his ground. "I simply thought sleeping at the foot of your bed might be...comforting, given our circumstances."
A smirk played at the corner of Darbakh's lips. "Afraid of the dark, are we?"
Pendor's newly mammalian face contorted into an expression of indignant outrage at Darbakh's remark, but he soon realized the futility of further argument. With a frustrated huff, he settled down, his animal form curling into a ball just at the entrance of the hole. Darbakh's steady breathing indicated that he was already drifting back into slumber.
"I'm not a devil anymore," Pendor muttered resentfully, his voice a low grumble. "My spirit is one with the cycle of nature again, whether you like it or not." His words, laden with irritation, hung in the air for a moment before being swallowed by the quiet embrace of the cave.
In the time they considered roughly equivalent to a morning, the refugees gathered in front of the cave, quietly eating their share of the provisions, their expressions a mixture of exhaustion and quiet gratitude. The scene had a touch of respite from the harshness of Avernus, but the overall mood remained subdued, as if the weight of their situation couldn't be fully lifted.
A group of children among the refugees reached out and tentatively patted Pendor's furry hide, a hint of smiles gracing their lips as they treated the transformed abishai like a friendly pet.
As the blood-red light cast a pale glow over the desolate landscape of Avernus, Ramona's thoughtful expression matched her musings. "You know," she began, her voice carrying a note of contemplation, "even if this Mahadi is a dishonest businessman, the fact that those interests align with providing us what we desperately need could work in our favor."
Darbakh remained silent, his features locked in a stoic mask as he considered her words. Meanwhile, as if summoned by their conversation, Five appeared on the scene and inquired, "Are you both ready?"
"We're ready," Ramona replied with a determined nod, and then added, "I think it's worth the risk."
Darbakh's expression didn't change, but his slight nod indicated agreement. With their resolve set, the trio left the refuge of their hideout, their footsteps echoing softly in the eerie silence of Avernus. The distant figure of the Wandering Emporium remained stationary, a curious anomaly against the backdrop of shifting landscapes. As they trod the familiar path towards the caravan, the cacophony of various voices, bartering, and the clinking of infernal currency filled the air. The Emporium itself stood like a shimmering mirage amidst the harsh surroundings of Avernus, bustling with activity.
Midway on their journey, Ramona took the opportunity to ask about Pendor. "By the way, Darbakh, where did your pet come from?" she inquired, her voice carrying genuine curiosity.
Confusion clouded Darbakh's features until he noticed Pendor trailing behind them. He turned to address the primal creature. "Go back to the camp, Pendor. Keep watch over the others."
“I don’t want to stay,” Pendor whined. “I want to follow-“
Pendor's protest was cut off by Ramona's interjection. "Does it understand you?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing in puzzlement.
Darbakh was taken aback for a moment. "We’re speaking common," he replied, his tone somewhat defensive.
Ramona exchanged a puzzled glance with Five, who chimed in, "Those were literally just bat noises."
The realization dawned on Darbakh, and he shook his head in mild frustration. "It seems this place messes with your head in more ways than one." With that, they continued on their path towards the Emporium, the bustling activity before them a stark contrast to the desolation of Avernus.
Once they stepped into the sprawling bazaar of the Wandering Emporium, they found themselves engulfed in a sensory whirlwind. The place was a vibrant kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, and scents, a stark contrast to the bleak landscape of Avernus that surrounded it.
Tents and stalls lined the makeshift aisles, displaying an astonishing variety of goods that seemed to cater to every imaginable need, desire, and whim. Creatures of all kinds, from mortals to fiends, and even beings beyond easy description, mingled in the crowded space. The air was alive with the buzz of bartering, the haggling of prices, and the hum of various conversations, creating a symphony of voices from countless worlds and cultures. Ramona's eyes widened in wonder as she took in the spectacle. Mortals wearing tattered clothes stood alongside armored devils, while bizarre creatures with shapes and features that defied logic ambled through the bazaar. Strange and exotic aromas wafted through the air, mingling with the metallic tang of Avernus itself.
Amidst this vibrant chaos, Ramona turned to Five with a mixture of awe and bewilderment. "Where did all these people come from? I mean, who would choose to come to a place like Avernus voluntarily?" she mused.
Five scratched his head, exchanging theories with Ramona as they walked through the bustling aisles. "Maybe they were pulled here like us? Or perhaps they have some hidden agenda," he speculated.
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Mahadi. Tall and impeccably dressed, the purveyor of the Emporium exuded an air of affable charm. His striking attire seemed to shimmer with otherworldly energy, reflecting the myriad colors of the Emporium itself.
Mahadi's warm smile and outstretched hand signaled his welcome. "Ah, welcome back! It's good to see familiar faces and new visitors alike," he greeted, his tone as enchanting as his appearance.
As Ramona and Five exchanged glances, still slightly overwhelmed by the spectacle around them, Mahadi's words seemed to resonate with the essence of the Emporium—a place where the peculiar and extraordinary converged, offering solace and opportunity amidst the harshness of Hell.
"Allow me to introduce myself," Mahadi said with a graceful bow, his smile unwavering. "I am Mahadi, the proprietor of this establishment. And you, my dear?" he turned his attention to Ramona.
Ramona offered a polite smile, her unease momentarily hidden. "I'm Ramona, a medic, here with a group of refugees from Elturel," she replied, her tone cordial yet guarded.
Darbakh stood silently, his arms crossed, seemingly absorbed in observing the bustling bazaar. It was only when Mahadi spoke again that he shifted his attention.
"Forgive me, but I requested the presence of three individuals, not four," Mahadi's voice remained pleasant, yet his gaze held a hint of curiosity as he glanced behind them.
Darbakh's eyes followed Mahadi's gaze, landing on Pendor who had tagged along. With a heavy sigh, he turned to face his companion. "You're not part of this discussion, Pendor. Go back to the camp," he grumbled. Pendor's eyes narrowed, a wounded pride evident in his expression as he slinked away from the group, his wings drooping in a sulking manner. Darbakh turned his attention back to Mahadi, his expression unapologetic. "Apologies for the confusion. Let's proceed," he replied, his tone curt.
Mahadi's smile remained unwavering, as if he was unaffected by the tension. "Of course, my dear friend. Please follow me," he gestured for them to walk alongside him, leading them deeper into the bustling heart of the Emporium.
As they walked, Ramona and Five exchanged subtle glances, sensing the underlying complexities of the situation. The bazaar continued to swirl with activity around them, a vibrant tapestry woven from the threads of countless worlds and stories. With graceful gestures, Mahadi led them through the labyrinthine aisles of the Emporium, each turn revealing new wonders that seemed to defy the desolation of Avernus. The bustling atmosphere was alive with the chatter of merchants and patrons, their various languages blending into a cacophony of sound.
"And here," Mahadi announced, his voice carrying a note of excitement as he unveiled a large tent adorned with colorful banners and dimly lit lanterns. Inside, a group of patrons were engaged in a lively game of darts, their laughter mingling with the clinking of coins. "Ah, pub games for the spirited ones," Mahadi remarked, a playful glint in his eye. "A chance to unwind, test your skills, and perhaps win a little something."
Five's interest was piqued, and he glanced at Darbakh as if seeking permission. Darbakh merely nodded, and Five offered a faint grin before approaching the tent with anticipation.
As they moved on, Mahadi's guiding presence led them to another tent, this one adorned with intricately woven tapestries and an array of vibrant yarns. A hunched figure sat within, her fingers dancing nimbly over a crochet hook. "Allow me to introduce you to Esmeralda," Mahadi gestured to the night hag as she continued her work, a smile playing at her lips. "She specializes in teaching the fey art of crochet, a soothing respite from the trials of this land, and a unique method which allows one to alter their own dreams."
Ramona's eyes lit up, her curiosity piqued by the delicate artistry. "Crochet?" she echoed, her voice filled with intrigue.
"Yes, my dear. A way to create beauty amidst the chaos," Mahadi replied, his words carrying a wisdom that seemed to transcend the realms.
Ramona exchanged a glance with Five before turning back to Mahadi. "Thank you for showing us these places. A few moments of respite might do us some good."
"Of course," Mahadi nodded, his smile unwavering. "Partaking in the games requires a small fee, but you're welcome to observe without charge. Enjoy your time, my friends."
With that, Ramona and Five stepped away from Mahadi, finding a quiet spot from which they could watch the darts game and the delicate movements of the crochet artist.
Darbakh's sharp gaze bore into Mahadi as he voiced his suspicion. "Why did you ask for others to accompany me if your intention was to speak with me alone?"
Mahadi's lips curled into a knowing smile, his eyes locking onto Darbakh's with a keen understanding. "Your penchant for paranoia serves you well, Darbakh. You're absolutely right. However, had I asked you to come alone, would you have obliged?"
Darbakh's response was a simple grunt, a tacit admission of his wariness. He had learned long ago that trust was a currency that held little value in the treacherous landscapes of that place.
Mahadi's smile widened as he continued, "You see, my friend, I needed a cover, a pretense to gather you here. A chance to speak without raising suspicion." He gestured toward a nearby bench set within view of the gaming area. "Would you do me the honor of sitting with me for a moment, Darbakh? We have much to discuss."
Darbakh's brows furrowed, his skepticism evident in his gaze. Yet, a mixture of curiosity and begrudging respect for Mahadi's cunning compelled him to comply. With a curt nod, he walked over to the bench and settled onto it, his posture tense and alert.
Seated on the bench, Darbakh's eyes remained fixed on Mahadi, who suddenly produced a small tincture from his jacket and consumed it in a swift motion. As the liquid coursed through him, Mahadi's features seemed to shift, his form taking on a more solid and defined appearance. And when he began speaking in the guttural language of the dwarves, Darbakh's surprise was evident.
Mahadi's words, now in the language of Darbakh's people, flowed smoothly. "I have a few duergar in my employ," he began, his tone measured. "It's always good to have those who understand the intricacies of this land and its inhabitants."
Darbakh's suspicion was palpable, his gaze unyielding as he met Mahadi's eyes. "What are you getting at?" he demanded, his voice a low rumble.
Mahadi's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Have you observed anything about me, Darbakh?" he inquired, his dwarven words hanging in the air. The intensity of his gaze implied that he was testing Darbakh, whose expression remained stony as he contemplated the question.
He had known that something was amiss with the man, something that didn't quite align with the human façade he presented. "You're a fiend, and you’re using an illusion to appear human," the duergar replied bluntly, his people’s natural awareness of illusions guiding him.
Mahadi's chuckle held a hint of amusement. "A keen observation, my friend. And an accurate one."
Darbakh's gaze remained unwavering. "Why the façade?"
Mahadi's smile never wavered. "In this realm, it pays to navigate the intricacies of power and alliances. My true form might not be as well received."
“Then why bother exposing yourself to me?”
“A sign of trust. Not a formal pact…consider this an extension of my goodwill,” Mahadi replied, “on the understanding that you’ll honor this disclosure I’m providing you.”
Darbakh's response was a noncommittal grunt, his skepticism unyielding.
Mahadi's eyes held a glimmer of intrigue as he regarded Darbakh. "You, too, have secrets, Darbakh. A past that shapes your present, a fire that fuels your actions."
Darbakh's expression remained guarded, a wall of stoicism protecting his thoughts.
Mahadi leaned back slightly, his voice a low murmur. "I expected as much from one of your background. But let us not dwell on the intricacies of our identities for now. There are matters at hand that could benefit us both, if you're willing to listen." As the air around them seemed to hum with an unspoken challenge, Mahadi leaned in slightly, his expression composed yet expectant. "May I test my own senses against the hidden facets of your being?" he inquired, his tone a blend of politeness and intrigue.
Darbakh's response was a simple, unironic nod. The duergar's face was a mask of stoicism, a demeanor that never seemed to waver.
With a subtle nod of acknowledgment, Mahadi's eyes flickered for a moment, his gaze briefly locking onto Darbakh's backpack. "In your possession, there lies an artifact," he began, his voice measured. "An artifact that seems to cling to you, defying attempts to rid yourself of it."
Darbakh's posture stiffened, a reflexive defense against Mahadi's probing words. His stern expression didn't waver as he simply responded with a curt "Perhaps."
Mahadi's lips curved in a small, knowing smile. "This artifact," he continued, his words precise, "acts as a prison for two immortal beings. One of them, I suspect, hails from the depths of Avernus itself."
The duergar's response was no more forthcoming. "Maybe."
But in that moment, a shift seemed to occur. Mahadi's demeanor, once composed and poised, took on a tinge of worry, a glimpse of fatigue that flickered across his features. He sighed softly, as though grappling with a weighty realization. "You carry with you an infernal puzzle box," he stated, his voice tinged with a note of solemnity. "It's bound to you by a curse, a connection that transcends mere possession."
Darbakh's silence affirmed Mahadi's assessment. The air seemed to hang heavy with the weight of unspoken truths, secrets that danced at the edges of their conversation. And amidst the bustling backdrop of the Emporium, where mortals and fiends went about their transactions oblivious to the exchange, a subtle understanding passed between the duergar and the fiend in disguise.
Breaking the silence, Mahadi's voice held a hint of thoughtful concern. "The puzzle box troubles me as much as it troubles you," he admitted, his gaze locked onto Darbakh's, as if seeking to gauge the duergar's response.
"How so?" Darbakh's inquiry was direct, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded the enigmatic fiend.
Mahadi's lips parted as if he were about to speak, but then he paused, his expression taking on a contemplative air. Finally, he spoke again, his tone slightly hesitant. "I wish to ask you how the puzzle box has troubled you in the past," he ventured cautiously.
The duergar's stubborn resolve was unwavering. "I won't answer that until you explain your own problems," Darbakh retorted, his voice firm.
A sigh escaped Mahadi's lips, his shoulders sagging just slightly. "Very well," he conceded, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation. "It seems that this is the way duergar always behave." He offered Darbakh a wry smile before continuing. "My concern lies in the potential consequences of your connection to the puzzle box.” Mahadi leaned in slightly, his expression a mixture of gravity and determination. "I'll be frank with you," he began, his voice low and earnest. "I don't particularly care about the horned devil trapped in one side of the puzzle box. That's a matter of little consequence to me."
Darbakh's eyebrow quirked in response, his attention keen. "Then what is it that concerns you?" he inquired, his tone uncharacteristically cautious.
Mahadi's lips thinned into a thoughtful line. "It's the efreeti named Karzoth," he admitted with a touch of reluctance. "He's trapped in the other side of the puzzle box, and that, my dear duergar, is a tremendous problem."
Darbakh's curiosity deepened. "How so?"
A heavy sigh escaped Mahadi as he considered his words. "You see, long before Karzoth was sealed within the puzzle box, he and I had dealings. I incurred a debt to him—a debt I have no means of repaying."
Darbakh's gaze remained unwavering, his mind piecing together the puzzle of Mahadi's predicament. "And this debt... it's the reason he's trapped in the box?"
Mahadi's lips tightened, his eyes betraying a hint of regret. "No, I had no part in that; I only knew of the box’s nature after the fact. I do not know the specifics. By the time the puzzle box was created, I had already succeeded in hiding from Karzoth. I had evaded him and escaped his pursuit, but the box itself... that was a product of mortal hands."
In the midst of the bustling Emporium, Darbakh's sharp inquiry cut through the air, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. "Tell me, Mahadi. What is it you want from me?"
Mahadi's eyes met Darbakh's, his gaze steady and determined. "I want to make a deal, my duergar friend," he began, his words measured and deliberate. "A deal that could save both of us from a grave fate."
Darbakh's brows furrowed, his skepticism etched on his features. "And what sort of deal are you proposing?"
Mahadi leaned in slightly, his voice a low murmur amidst the cacophony of the Emporium. "If the horned devil within the puzzle box is unconditionally freed, then I can ensure that Karzoth, the efreeti trapped within the other side of the box, is banished to a demiplane—a demiplane disconnected from the box's physical structure. In that demiplane, he would be isolated, cut off from the multiverse forever."
Darbakh's gaze remained unwavering as he processed Mahadi's words. "And why is that important to you?"
A flicker of unease passed over Mahadi's expression, his tone taking on a weight of urgency. "Because, my dear duergar, even with all my power and influence, I am no match for Karzoth. As a genie, he cares nothing for the protections I enjoy from the likes of Asmodeus. If he were to be freed, he would pursue me relentlessly, seeking to exact his revenge for the debt I owe him."
Darbakh's understanding deepened, the gravity of the situation coming into focus. "And you believe that banishing him to a demiplane is the only way to ensure your safety?"
Mahadi's response was swift, his voice tinged with a mixture of fear and desperation. "More than safety, it's a matter of survival. Karzoth's recklessness knows no bounds, and his fiery temper would drive him to destroy me, no matter the cost."
As the weight of Mahadi's words settled in the air, Darbakh took a moment to think, his gaze distant and contemplative. After a brief silence, he finally spoke, his voice tinged with gravity. "This is a heavy topic, Mahadi. You're asking me to make a decision that could have far-reaching consequences."
Mahadi's response was solemn as he nodded. "Indeed, my friend. The release of Karzoth could set in motion events that even I cannot fully predict."
Darbakh's eyes bore into Mahadi's as he spoke again. "And what could these events entail?"
Mahadi's gaze never wavered as he answered, his voice unwavering. "An inter-planar war between the Nine Hells and the Elemental Plane of Fire, a conflict that would unleash devastation across the realms. Karzoth doesn’t care about the consequences of his actions. He’s not chaotic; he’s just…obtuse. He’s fully aware that, if he interferes with my business here on Avernus, then the powers-that-be here will retaliate. Then, the powers-that-be in the City of Brass will retaliate, and so forth. He’s fully aware, yet he doesn’t care.”
Darbakh's brows furrowed as he considered the implications, the enormity of the situation becoming clear. "You didn't offer me anything in return for my agreement to condemn this efreeti to a lifetime of isolation."
A knowing smile touched Mahadi's lips, his response measured. "Ah, but I have made my own request, my friend. And in turn, I am open to you making a request of your own."
Darbakh's expression remained guarded, his voice firm. "And what assurance do I have that you'll uphold your end of the bargain?"
Mahadi's gaze held a glint of amusement as he replied, his tone smooth and persuasive. "Rarely do I deal with customers on such even terms, Darbakh. The respect I am showing you in this matter should not be underestimated."
Darbakh's response held a touch of skepticism. "Yeah, well, I won't be overestimating the respect you're showing me either."
Mahadi's demeanor shifted for a brief moment, as if caught off guard by Darbakh's brusque remark. But then he chuckled softly, a hint of feigned amusement in his voice. "A true icon of Laduguer, you are."
Darbakh chose to ignore the comment and pressed on. "I've gathered a group of mortals, unlike myself, who won't survive much longer in Avernus. They need to find their way back to the prime material plane. That's what I want in return."
Mahadi nodded thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing as he considered the proposition. "Gathering a group for safe passage...intriguing. The logistics of such an endeavor are complex, but not insurmountable."
Inspiration seemed to spark in Mahadi's eyes as he mulled over the situation. "A portal to the prime material plane is no small feat," he mused aloud, his voice thoughtful. "But it's not just the logistics we need to consider. Such a portal could attract the attention of celestial forces, who might perceive it as a threat to the delicate cosmological balance. And even the more pragmatic-minded devils might intervene to prevent such an imbalance, seeing it as a disruption to their infernal schemes."
His gaze shifted, sweeping over the chaotic landscape of Avernus. "However," he continued, his tone becoming more contemplative, "Avernus is a place of magical turmoil, with its own peculiar rhythms. It might hold the key to a solution." Turning his attention back to Darbakh, Mahadi's eyes held a glint of determination. "Give me a few days to devise a plan. I'll explore the possibilities that Avernus provides. But there's one thing I must ask of you in return: Can I trust that you won't tamper with that puzzle box in the meantime?"
Without hesitation, Darbakh's voice cut through the air, crisp and unwavering. "I won't tamper with it while you plan, on one condition: You provide my people with food, free of charge."
Mahadi's professional demeanor faltered for a moment, his eyes widening in genuine surprise. "What? But Darbakh, you've had that puzzle box for years. You've never tampered with it before. Why this sudden need for compensation?"
Darbakh's expression remained stern, his eyes locked onto Mahadi's. "Because, Mahadi, my priorities have shifted. My people need to eat, and I won't let them starve in exchange for keeping this puzzle box untouched."
The fiend's eyes flickered as he considered Darbakh's demand. A tense silence settled between them, filled only by the distant hum of activity from the bazaar. Finally, Mahadi let out a frustrated sigh, his brows furrowing. "Very well, Darbakh. I suppose we have a deal. Food for your people in exchange for your patience."
Darbakh's expression relaxed slightly, a small nod indicating his acceptance. "Good. Remember, Mahadi, if you break your word, I won't hesitate to make sure that puzzle box becomes your problem in a very unpleasant way."
“Please, be reasonable. You’re not just threatening me; this is bigger than individuals. You don’t understand how far a genie like this will go to reclaim-“
“Food. Water.” Darbakh sounded like a broken record.
Mahadi's gaze bore into Darbakh's, and for a moment, the two locked eyes in a silent clash of wills. Then, with a sigh and a begrudging nod, Mahadi relented. "I understand. You have my word."
The tension in the air eased, just a fraction, as their agreement settled over them. The intricate dance between two determined individuals continued, each playing their part in a larger, intricate scheme set against the backdrop of Avernus' unforgiving landscape.
Mahadi straightened his attire, his professional veneer returning as he regained his composure. "Oh, and by the way, while we were discussing business, your friends seemed to have found some amusement in the games," he remarked casually, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "I trust you'll settle their tab before you leave."
Without awaiting a response, Mahadi turned on his heel and began to walk away, his confident stride carrying him through the bustling bazaar. Darbakh's eyes narrowed at the fiend's departing figure, his frustration building beneath the surface.
Darbakh had been sleeping soundly in his makeshift hole carved into the rough cave wall. His rest was a rare respite from the tormenting harshness of Avernus. However, the calm was soon shattered by a gentle but insistent voice. He stirred, eyelids heavy, and then sat up abruptly when Maisa's voice reached his ears.
Groggily, he blinked at the morning light spilling into the cave and scanned his surroundings. "Maisa? What is it?" he mumbled, still caught in the clutches of drowsiness.
She stood just outside the entrance of his hole, her expression tense. Her voice quivered with worry as she uttered the unsettling words. "There are devils approaching, Darbakh."
Darbakh's response was immediate, driven by a gritty determination born of countless encounters with the horrors of Avernus. His tone was casual, belying the seriousness of the situation. "I guess I need to kill someone."
Without waiting for further details, he rose from his makeshift bed, ignoring the discomfort of sleep still clinging to his limbs. As he prepared to face the approaching devils, his mood soured even further when he discovered Pendor, the fiendish bat-like creature, asleep inside the chest where he stored his armor. Without much ceremony, he grabbed the slumbering companion and tossed it out.
The act was swift and unceremonious, with no time for Pendor to react to the abrupt awakening.
As Darbakh methodically donned his armor, Maisa's voice bore an urgency she couldn't hide. "There are four devils approaching," she began, her eyes wide with concern, "They look spiky, and they're marching towards us slowly."
"Yeah, yeah," Darbakh responded, almost dismissively, as he secured a piece of armor in place.
"They're getting closer," Maisa added, her voice growing more frantic, "The other refugees are terrified."
Darbakh continued his preparations with a practiced calm. "Don't worry," he said casually, "I've faced worse."
Maisa couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration at Darbakh's seemingly nonchalant demeanor, "You don't understand, these devils are different, and they're not alone. We need a plan."
Pendor groggily mumbled, his voice laden with confusion, "Why's my head hurt?" He hadn't yet realized that he'd been unceremoniously tossed to the ground.
Meanwhile, Darbakh emerged from his hole into the main chamber of the cave. Maisa's surprise spilled out in a hushed tone. "You suited up so fast!"
Darbakh didn't respond immediately. His gaze swept over the frightened refugees, their faces etched with terror. They were ordinary folk, unprepared for the horrors of Avernus. Finally, he turned to Maisa, his expression determined. "Stay with them," he instructed firmly, before heading out of the cave, ready to face the approaching devils.
Darbakh emerged from the cave's shadow and ascended the rocky hills, his movements deliberate and weighted with purpose. As he reached the lookout point, he saw Ulthian and the other half-elves huddled behind makeshift cover. The landscape before them was a stark portrayal of Avernus's desolation. Blood-red mountains loomed on the horizon, their sharp peaks a contrast to the hazy, melancholic sky.
Darbakh scanned the area with a practiced eye, taking in the grim tableau of this infernal wasteland. It was only a matter of time before he focused on the approaching threat.
Ulthian, perched on a boulder, turned to Darbakh as he approached. "You've come just in time," he said, his voice low and filled with tension. "We've got visitors."
Darbakh's brow furrowed as he examined the distant figures. "Devils?" he inquired.
Ulthian nodded gravely. "Three bearded devils and one barbed devil. They've been marching in our direction for the past half-hour. Slow and deliberate."
Darbakh's lips tightened in response. The situation was becoming clear, and he knew the urgency of the matter.
As the group gathered at the lookout point, a palpable tension filled the air. They maintained their vigilant watch, eyes locked on the approaching devils as they drew nearer.
Five broke the silence, his voice quivering slightly. "The refugees are... they're reading last rites over themselves," he said, concern etched on his face. Ulthian looked to Darbakh, his expression reflecting the growing unease.
Darbakh, however, remained composed, his face an unreadable mask. He issued orders to the half-elves. "Stay perched here, bows at the ready. Make yourselves visible to the devils."
Rising to his feet, Darbakh boldly stepped forward, exposing himself to the oncoming threat. The devils, three bearded devils and one barbed devil, halted their march abruptly. They crouched low, their spiky forms casting eerie shadows on the hellish landscape. Agitated chattering and frantic pointing among the devils ensued as they seemed to recognize Darbakh.
As the devils argued amongst themselves, their infernal voices growing louder, Five turned to Darbakh with a tense expression. "What's the plan?" he asked, his voice low but steady. The group at the lookout point was on edge, their apprehension palpable, yet not a trace of fear showed in their faces.
Darbakh took a moment to consider, his gaze locked on the devils below. He knew someone must stay behind to ensure the refugees' safety and evacuate them to the Wandering Emporium if the situation turned dire. He chose his words carefully, not directly stating his intent but leaving it hanging in the air. "Someone needs to remain here to watch over them.”
Five stepped forward, determination etched on his face. "I won't let you face this alone," he declared, his resolve unwavering. He glanced at his cousin, silently conveying his intent. A brief standoff ensued, but Darbakh finally conceded with a single, grim nod.
Ulthian, sensing the gravity of the situation, raised a hand to halt Darbakh's departure, but then withdrew it, knowing that the duergar had made his choice. Without another word, Darbakh began his descent down the hill, heading straight toward the agitated devils.
Darbakh and Five descended the hill with unwavering determination, their faces set in grim resolve. It was a stark contrast to the devils, who had started openly bickering amongst themselves. The bearded devils engaged in a brief, volatile shoving match, their usual infernal discipline seemingly shattered.
Despite the chaos, Darbakh and Five pressed on, their pace unwavering. The barbed devil, with its grotesque appearance, struggled to restore order among its subordinate devils. The mood was anything but the usual orderly demeanor of devils. Instead, it appeared as though these fiends were worn, fatigued, and oddly enough, less heavily armed than one would expect.
As they drew nearer, the scowls on the bearded devils' faces deepened, and tension hung thick in the air. Darbakh and Five had entered the midst of chaos, and the devils' bizarre disarray only served to heighten their unease.
Darbakh and Five came to a halt, their unwavering gazes locked onto the devils. The barbed devil spoke up, its voice carrying an unusual fatigue that went beyond the physical. In Common, it asked, "Name?"
The tension was palpable, not just between the two sides but also within the devilish ranks. It was evident that the bearded devils were subordinate to the barbed devil, though they didn't appear happy about it.
Darbakh met the devil's inquiry with stoic obstinance, refusing to answer. The barbed devil, its warning now laced with a sense of genuine concern, stated, "You...trouble...my subordinates."
Darbakh's response was curt, his tone unyielding, as he replied, "Sounds like your problem."
The barbed devil cleared its throat and began, "I want to...offer a pact." It glanced uneasily at the bearded devils and cautioned, "Don't react...loudly. They don’t understand Common."
Five responded impatiently, "Noted. Get on with it."
The devils appeared defeated, and the barbed devil continued, "An imp from the Emporium...it fled. Complained about you...an assault. No bounty on your head...yet. The imp is very upset."
Darbakh cut straight to the point, his voice terse, "How many of your kind care about what the imp says?"
The barbed devil replied wearily, almost offering friendly advice, "Not many...yet. But you, your flock, all won't survive if you cause problems for Avernus natives."
”How much do you want for killing that imp?”
Darbakh's question hung in the air like a heavy weight, visibly shocking the barbed devil, even though it tried its best to conceal its reaction from the bearded devils. It stammered, "Kill...the imp? Not possible. Other obligations, you see...it cannot be."
A tense silence ensued, Darbakh employing a power-play negotiation tactic by simply staring at the fiends, who all seemed to quiver under his gaze. Even the bearded devils grew anxious.
The barbed devil's voice trembled as it asked, "What…what are you doing?"
Darbakh, his tone calm and unwavering, noted, "You all look tired, injured, like easy prey."
Five tightened his grip on his spear, and the bearded devils began to shift uncomfortably, cursing softly.
The barbed devil, growing desperate, repeated its plea, "I want a pact."
Five chimed in, echoing the group's frustration, "You keep saying you want a pact, but you won't tell us what for."
The barbed devil, its fear palpable, finally relented and explained their plight. "We were attacked by demons, many of our kind died. We can't fight anymore."
Darbakh cut to the heart of the matter, his voice stern and without a hint of humor, "Were you planning to kill me?"
The barbed devil, now genuinely frightened, avoided a direct answer and simply repeated its plea, "I suggest a pact for mutual safety."
Darbakh's hand axe, a sidearm from his belt, loomed threateningly over the bearded devils, casting a long shadow, as he declared, "I have a pact for you."
Darbakh raised his hand axe, sending the bearded devils into a frenzied panic. However, it was the barbed devil who protested the impending conflict.
"Wait! Wait! This isn't necessary!" the barbed devil pleaded desperately, but its words fell on deaf ears.
Darbakh's aim was unerring. His axe found its mark low, sinking deep into the first bearded devil's groin. The injured devil writhed in agony, clutching its wounded area, dropping its glaive, and falling to the ground, shrieking in pain.
Before the other devils could react, Darbakh abandoned his maul and tackled the barbed devil to the ground. The bearded devils hissed and cursed as arrows from the half-elves above rained down upon them. Meanwhile, Darbakh pinned the barbed devil to the ground. Desperately, it tried to lash him with its tail, but his armor was too protective; none of its barbs could pierce through the sturdy splint.
In a vice-like half nelson hold, Darbakh forced the barbed devil to watch, rendering it helpless. "Please," it cried out with desperation, "I beg you, let us negotiate! I’ll be blamed for this!" As it watched the half-elves continue to pelt the bearded devils with arrows, the barbed devil's pleas grew more frantic.
However, Five moved in without hesitation. Ignoring the barbed devil's desperate protests, he executed the injured bearded devils one by one with precise thrusts of his spear, ending their afterlives.
Five waved for the half-elves to stop shooting, and Ulthian descended the hill to retrieve the arrows embedded in the fallen bearded devils. Darbakh released his grip on the barbed devil, but the creature made no attempt to rise. It lay there on the ground, defeated and aware of its own failure, staring down at the ashy, lifeless ground.
Darbakh felt no pity for the devil, and neither did Five, who remained resolute in his stance. Ulthian, however, gazed upon the pitiable creature with a mixture of empathy and doubt, silently questioning the wisdom of their actions.
Without a word, Darbakh picked up his maul once more and turned to the barbed devil, his tone tersely authoritative. "Here's what you're going to do," he commanded. "You will take the soul coins from your comrades and bribe that imp to stop talking about this dispute."
The barbed devil, still lying on the ground, began to voice its grievances. "You ruined me," it complained bitterly, its voice a mix of anger and despair. "I'll be demoted now. It was my responsibility to lead those bearded devils. You've destroyed my life!"
Darbakh, unmoved by the devil's lament, responded callously. "Not my problem."
The barbed devil's voice cracked with emotion as it continued, "You don't understand what it's like to be a fiend, to have ambition and dreams. You've taken everything from me!"
Darbakh remained unfazed, his tone unyielding. "I don't pity fiends."
The barbed devil's voice quivered as it continued to plead, "You don't understand! This afterlife was my last chance. There's nothing waiting for a dead devil."
Darbakh's response was curt and unapologetic, "I know."
Ulthian cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. Though visibly bothered by the half-elf’s interjection, Darbakh nodded for him to speak after a moment of irritable silence. "Perhaps... we could find some work for it, if it’s in danger over this defeat? Something far from the refugees."
Five, ever cautious, chimed in, "We can't let it anywhere near the refugees."
The barbed devil's desperation was palpable as it hurriedly added, "I can help! I'm skilled, resourceful. I could be of great use to you."
“Why would we need anything from the likes of you?” Five asked suspiciously.
It was clear the devil hoped to manipulate Ulthian's sense of pity, and its words came in a rush, one after the other. "You don't have to leave me destitute. Find an excuse for me, and I'll do anything you ask. I'll help you. Just please, please don't send me away from this mission empty handed. I was only supposed to be on patrol duty when I took that imp’s offer!"
Darbakh scowled deeply, spat on the ground at his feet, and then turned his gaze back to the barbed devil. His voice was cold and threatening, "Listen here, fiend. You follow these instructions to the letter, or I'll report you." He listed his demands, each one laced with a stern warning, "Take those soul coins from your dead comrades, bribe that imp into silence, and then find a nice spot to sleep in the dirt outside the Emporium. We'll come for you when we need you."
The barbed devil, its desperation evident, asked for assurance, "How do I know you'll hold up your end of the pact?"
In response, Darbakh offered no words, only kicking sand into the barbed devil’s face.
The mortals watched the barbed devil quickly and nervously loot its dead companions before fleeing, a parting reminder hanging in the air, "Remember, I'm doomed if you break your promise."
The awkward quiet lingered in the air after the barbed devil's departure. Darbakh broke it first, turning his gaze towards Five. "They came here for me," he muttered, acknowledging the obvious.
Five, ever pragmatic, replied, "Well, we can't dwell on the past now. We need to find a solution."
Darbakh's eyes fell upon the glaive dropped by one of the dead bearded devils. He couldn't help but think out loud, "We can't keep on like this, always on the defensive. What if we trained the refugees, turned them into a militia?"
Ulthian, respectful and deferent towards the duergar, couldn't hide his incredulity. "Train them for warfare? Are you sure about that, Darbakh?"
Five listened carefully, his contemplative gaze turning to Darbakh. After a moment, he nodded in agreement, "As much as it doesn't sit right, we can't keep relying on our own strength alone. We need all the help we can get."
The conversation reached its resolution as they all understood the necessity of the idea. They couldn't continue like this forever, and changes had to be made.
The flat, dusty expanse in front of the cave mouth was a stark reflection of Avernus's unforgiving nature. But despite the grim surroundings, there was a sense of resigned acceptance among the refugees. The oldest and youngest among them had gathered just outside the cave, working diligently to piece together armor from whatever scraps of leather and metal they could find. It wasn't a joyous endeavor, but it wasn't hopeless either.
Further away from the cave mouth, Five took charge. He had gathered a diverse group of more than a dozen refugees, spanning various ages and species, and arranged them into rows. With patience and determination, Five was teaching them the basics of marching, each holding a spear, even if some were nothing more than sticks with kitchen knives duct-taped to the ends.
There was no fanfare or celebration; this activity was a simple acknowledgment of their shared goal – to survive in the harsh landscape of Avernus.
Up on the hills, a sense of tension hung in the air. Darbakh and Ramona stood apart from the others, their voices low but firm as they engaged in an intense debate. The open expanse of Avernus stretched before them, a harsh and unforgiving landscape.
Darbakh looked at Ramona, his brows furrowed with determination. "Ramona, you're not seeing the bigger picture here. These refugees, they're not warriors. I get that. But in Avernus, it's fight or become prey. Every being, no matter who they are, defends themselves when threatened. It's basic survival."
Ramona, her expression one of concern, shook her head. "Darbakh, basic survival, yes. But forcing them into combat will only lead to more stress, more fear. Some of these boys you recruited, they're just too young for this. They're not ready to commit acts of violence."
Darbakh's gaze remained unwavering. "I don't want to force anyone into combat. But we can't be their protectors forever. We need to prepare them for what's out here."
Ramona sighed, her eyes reflecting her frustration. "Fine, have it your way, Darbakh. But you're not considering what this will do to them, to us. We're not soldiers, and these people aren't either."
The silence hung between Darbakh and Ramona, a palpable tension in the air. Darbakh, for a moment, let his guard down and noted her unease. "You're upset, aren't you?" he asked in a softer tone.
Ramona quickly denied it, a hint of defensiveness in her voice. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Darbakh sighed, his gaze focused on the barren landscape. "I didn't mean for all of this to happen."
Ramona's response was clipped. "All of what, exactly?"
Their conversation had reached an impasse, an unspoken disagreement neither was willing to concede.
Just as the silence became unbearable, Ulthian approached them, his expression troubled. He started to deliver his news but paused when he noticed the tension between Darbakh and Ramona, choosing his words carefully.
Ulthian hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of his report. "I've, um, got some news," he finally said. “Don’t panic.”
"Out with it, then," Darbakh replied bluntly, his impatience evident.
Ramona chimed in, her tone wry. "You know, starting with 'don't panic' usually makes people panic."
Ulthian flushed, his cheeks reddening. "Sorry," he mumbled, then continued, "The barbed devil from a few days ago is back. It's carrying a white flag, and there's another devil with it. They keep waving for permission."
Darbakh's brow furrowed in thought. "Should we shoot them?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
Ulthian, standing between civilian and soldier, didn't seem eager to resort to violence. His primary concern was the safety of the refugees, and that weighed heavily on him. He hesitated before asking for guidance, "What should we do?"
Ramona interjected, her voice carrying a tone of reason. "No, we shouldn't shoot. The fact that Mahadi was willing to help us is evidence that some of these devils are open to discussion." She glanced at Darbakh, her expression serious. "We don't need to resort to violence right away."
Darbakh mulled over her words for a moment before turning his attention to practical matters. "Should we hide their arrival from the others?" he asked.
Ramona nodded in agreement. "Yes, better to avoid scaring them any further. They're already uneasy about having to carry weapons."
Darbakh didn't respond further. Instead, he nodded and made his way down the hills to the flat plain where the devils waited. Ulthian started to ask if he should accompany Darbakh, but the duergar cut him off. "I'll handle this alone," he said tersely.
As he descended the hill, Pendor flew over and landed next to him. He hadn’t even remembered that his primal companion still existed. The fiend-turned-primal began loping along next to him on the ground. “Go back to the cave, Pendor.”
“I don’t want to go back. I want to help you,” the animal whined in the strange squeaking language which nobody else could understand.
“Pendor, go back to the cave and wait. Don’t contradict me in public,” Darbakh said harshly through the corner of his mouth.
The primal bat’s gargoyle-like face twisted into a grotesque frown, and crawled with his head hung low. However, he just hid behind a rock to watch the confrontation in secret.
Darbakh walked out onto the flat, desolate plain and saw a sight that baffled him. There, standing before him, was the same barbed devil he had confronted not long ago. But this time, the devil looked jubilant, adorned with makeshift trinkets crafted from bits of chain links. It was carrying a white flag and appeared genuinely happy to see him.
A Merregon devil at the barbed devil's side laid down its halberd and actually bowed to Darbakh as he approached. The barbed devil spoke first, its tone strangely amiable. "Ah, it's good to see you again, Darbakh. I've brought a friend." The devil's grin was unsettling.
Darbakh couldn't hide his confusion and suspicion. "What's going on here?" he asked bluntly.
“I’ve come to thank you!” the barbed devil exclaimed.
Darbakh crossed his arms, still deeply puzzled. "You're thanking me for getting rid of your subordinates? You fiends are always up to something." He wasn't buying it.
The barbed devil chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down Darbakh's spine. "Oh, Darbakh, it's not what you think. You see, they were a burden to me. Thanks to your actions, I'm now free of their incompetence."
Darbakh raised an eyebrow, his distrust evident in his voice. "And what does your freedom earn me?"
The barbed devil's demeanor remained unnervingly cheerful as it continued its explanation. "You see, Darbakh, I've found a new purpose, a new master. I serve Princeps Kovik now. They operate outside the infernal hierarchy, and life is so much better under their command. No more tedious orders from stuffy commanders."
The mention of this ‘Princeps Kovik’ made Darbakh even more wary. "So, what brings you here? Are you here to recruit more followers?"
The Merregon, who had been silent thus far, suddenly communicated to Darbakh telepathically, "All hail the incidence of violence!" It was as if the Merregon had started a fan club for the duergar.
Darbakh shook his head, finding the two devils and their bizarre conversation utterly absurd. His skepticism deepened as the barbed devil continued to speak with an unsettling cheerfulness.
"Kovik is a great warlord, you know," it said, emphasizing Kovik's independence. "They lead our group, just like you lead your refugees, without duchesses or dukes. We're kindred spirits, you and us."
Darbakh couldn't hide his annoyance. "Don't compare me to your kind. We're nothing alike."
The Merregon chimed in with its ethereal, disembodied voice. "Yes, you're right. We're not worthy."
Darbakh decided to cut to the chase, his patience waning. "What do you two want?"
The barbed devil's perpetual grin faded just slightly as it revealed their true purpose. "Kovik is a rival of Mahadi. They want to make a counteroffer for that artifact you hold."
Darbakh's skepticism lingered in the air as he demanded, "What do you know about the artifact?"
The barbed devil, still maintaining its odd cheeriness, responded casually, "Oh, nothing important, really. But Kovik wishes to negotiate with you in private. No witnesses, you see."
Darbakh's face contorted with a mixture of anger and contemplation. His first instinct was to reach for his weapon and eliminate the devils right there, but then a glimmer of opportunity crossed his mind. Perhaps he could turn this situation to his advantage.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and then replied, "Fine, I'll meet this Kovik. Right here, right now. Tell them to come alone, and my people will stay back if yours do too. But make it clear to them that if any fiend approaches while invisible to spy on me, I'll know exactly where it is and where to strike before it can react."
Darbakh's tone was stern and resolute as he issued his demands to the two devils. As he watched the two devils recede into the Avernus landscape, his mind buzzed with thoughts of the potential alliance with Kovik. He considered the risks and benefits carefully.
Approaching from behind, Ulthian's voice broke the silence. "Darbakh, what happened here?" he asked, concern evident in his tone.
Darbakh summarized the whole conversation as best he could, but Ulthian was aghast at the meeting with Kovik. Concern etched on his face, the half-elf voiced his worry. "Darbakh, be careful in your meeting with Kovik. We don't know what kind of devil this is."
Darbakh, his expression steely, replied, "I can handle a single devil. Besides, if it works out, this might be the leverage we need to ensure Mahadi keeps his word about the portal to Elturel."
Ulthian nodded, still uneasy but willing to trust Darbakh's judgment. "What should I do in the meantime?"
Darbakh pondered for a moment. "Stay with the lookouts for now. I'll see if this negotiation bears fruit before we involve Ramona."
Ulthian agreed and returned to his post, leaving Darbakh to contemplate the high-stakes meeting that lay ahead. Pendor landed swiftly next to Darbakh, and the tone in his voice hinted at jealousy. "What should I do, Darbakh? Ulthian got orders from you, and I want to help too."
Darbakh glanced at Pendor, clearly not in the mood for his whining. "Pendor, just leave me be for now."
Pendor persisted, his tone becoming increasingly annoying. "But Darbakh, I can do stuff! I'm not useless!"
With a sigh of exasperation, Darbakh relented, trying to get rid of him. "Fine, go follow Ulthian then."
Pendor's face lit up with joy, and he hurried off to join Ulthian, clearly desperate for Darbakh's approval.
Left alone, Darbakh settled on the dusty red ground, waiting patiently for what this meeting might hold.
A solitary figure gradually materialized from the dusty landscape, drawing closer to Darbakh. It was Princeps Kovik, the chain devil, warlord, and a figure of some intrigue in these parts. Kovik moved quietly and without any visible weapons. As they reached Darbakh, they lowered themself to sit on the ground, opposite the duergar.
Kovik's demeanor was quite different from the flamboyance of Mahadi. They appeared subdued, as if the relentless heat and misery of Avernus had taken a toll. Their eyes, barely visible through the intricate web of chains that obscured their face, conveyed weariness but still retained a sharp and calculating glint.
Breaking the silence, Kovik finally spoke, their voice slow and deliberate. "I prefer to speak directly and to the point."
Darbakh responded simply, "Good. What's this about?"
Kovik, matching his brevity, replied, "I know what you're carrying. I know Mahadi met with you."
"How do you know?" Darbakh asked.
Kovik's response came with a trace of dry amusement, "You assaulted an imp who then tried to hire me as an assassin."
"What was your reaction?" Darbakh inquired.
Kovik answered with a matter-of-fact tone, "I killed the imp."
Darbakh's curiosity piqued, he pressed further, "What do you know about what I'm carrying?"
Kovik replied, "You fit the description of the mortal who carries the damned puzzle box. I've heard of you even before Elturel was pulled down into Avernus. I didn't expect you to be among the city's residents. It can't be a coincidence that you're here. We can help each other."
Darbakh's suspicion still lingered, his eyes narrowed as he questioned Kovik. "Why should I trust another devil offering help?"
Kovik assured him, "I'll be honest, it's fear that brings me here. You know of Mahadi's problems with a certain genie, correct?"
Darbakh, cautious but intrigued, replied, "How do you know that?"
Kovik explained, "I'm only guessing that Mahadi told you, but it's an educated guess. I have my own problems with a certain horned devil."
"The one named Malgog," Darbakh interjected.
Kovik confirmed, "Yes, Malgog, the horned devil trapped in the other side of the puzzle box. Just as Mahadi has his issues with the genie. The specifics don't matter. What matters is that we both want something, and together, we can make it happen."
Darbakh pondered the offer for a moment before asking, "So, you want me to release the genie and trap the horned devil in exchange for your help?"
Kovik's reply was resolute, "Yes, that's exactly what I need. If it's the other way around, I'd be in grave danger."
Darbakh, keen on the details, inquired, "What are you offering in return?"
Kovik, with a glint of curiosity, shot back, "What has Mahadi offered you, so I can match it?"
Darbakh leaned in slightly, explaining, "Mahadi is providing food and water for my people, the refugees left behind when Elturel returned to the prime material plane. He's also working on finding a way to create a portal for us to return."
Kovik paused, a long silence lingering between them, before they finally asked, "How strongly do you believe Mahadi will keep his promises?"
Darbakh's voice was laced with skepticism as he replied, "I don't believe Mahadi will do anything good.”
The Princeps nodded. “Mahadi won’t because he can’t. If a portal is opened between Faerun and the Nine Hells, what do you expect to happen? Angels won’t even need to descend on this land for punishment; archdevils would stop Mahadi first just to avoid a conflict with celestial forces. His proposal is a non-starter.”
“He warned me about those problems too,” Darbakh said, a cynical outlook mapped all over his face.
Kovik nodded, acknowledging Darbakh's sentiment. Then, in a tone that carried a strange mix of honesty and sinister intent, they said, "Let me level with you, Darbakh. I don't want you or the mortals here in Avernus either. If they die here, they could become martyrs and end up in the upper planes. If they return to your world, however, they might live good lives, but they could also become sinners condemned to Hell, which would be beneficial for devils like me."
Darbakh couldn't help but bristle at Kovik's calculating reasoning. But Kovik quickly reassured him, saying, "I'm not trying to convince you of my point of view. I don’t need you to join us. I just want you to understand that helping the refugees is in my self-interest." With that, the chain devil lapsed into an expectant silence.
With an annoyed expression, Darbakh questioned, "You expect me to rely on your self-interest?"
Kovik, however, remained unfazed. "Indeed," they replied calmly. "My self-interest ensures my cooperation with you. Would you truly trust me at my word alone?"
Darbakh's face grew grim as he realized Kovik had a point. "So, what am I to do with my people?" he asked. "What can you offer?"
Kovik's demeanor remained quiet, almost tired, as they made a counter-offer. "My warriors, outcast devils who don't answer to the infernal hierarchy, know this land well," Kovik explained. "I'll have them patrol the perimeter of your hideout, to distract or eliminate any threats. Meanwhile, I'll use my contacts to find a more reliable way to get your people back to Elturel on Faerun. It's in my self-interest as a devil." With that, Kovik fell silent, waiting for Darbakh's response.
Darbakh nodded in agreement. "Protection is all well and good, but it doesn't solve our immediate problem of food and water."
Kovik's eyes, barely visible through their wrapped chains, held a knowing glint. "I doubt Mahadi will put much effort into solving your portal problem. He's a businessman, after all. He'll likely delay any solution until he can entrap your people into debt servitude."
Darbakh's irritation was palpable. "That's not a solution," he grumbled.
Kovik leaned in slightly, their voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "Perhaps you could turn the tables, my friend. Entrap Mahadi into providing more food and water. Find a way."
The conversation hung in the hot, dusty air as Darbakh considered Kovik's suggestion. In a moment of shared understanding, the conversation hung in the air, both Kovik and Darbakh lost in their thoughts.
Without a word, Kovik slowly stood up. "I'll give the order for my warriors to start patrolling the area. You'll see we can be reliable allies."
Darbakh, always one to consider the worst-case scenario, couldn't help but ask, "And what if I decide to double-cross you and release Malgog?"
Kovik met his gaze without hesitation. "In that case, there won't be much of a future for me anyway. Upholding my end of the deal is the most rational choice." As Kovik turned to leave, they paused and turned back to Darbakh. "One last piece of advice, my friend. Mahadi asks you to trust him. I'm only asking you to trust your own instincts."
With that, Kovik began the slow walk back to the ditch. Darbakh remained seated on the dusty ground, his mind churning with thoughts and possibilities.
Ramona sighed, her voice filled with exasperation. "I don't see why we're hesitating. Mahadi has offered us food, water, and a way back home. We should accept his help. We can't rely on someone like Kovik."
Five, standing tall with his arms crossed, shook his head. "And I don't see why we should trust either devil. But we can't rely on a traveling salesman. Kovik at least has warriors who can protect us. It's not about trust; it's about necessity."
Darbakh, always the pragmatist, leaned forward. "Ramona, you're too trusting. Five, you're too short-sighted. We can use this situation to our advantage. Mahadi and Kovik are vying for our support. Let's make them work for it."
As Ulthian approached the trio, a sense of apprehension hung in the air. Their discussion had led them nowhere, and they knew that bad news was about to follow. Without a word, Ulthian delivered the unwelcome message.
"Mahadi is here," Ulthian said solemnly. "He's come to our camp, and he's brought a dozen halfling porters carrying gifts."
Darbakh's brow furrowed, his skepticism evident. Ramona exchanged a worried glance with Five, who wore a similar expression. The trio's trust in Mahadi was waning, and this unexpected visit only fueled their doubts. Even Ramona looked guarded upon hearing the news.
“Should I remain at the lookout point?” Ulthian asked expectantly.
“That might be a good idea,” Five replied. “These fiends are getting less and less predictable. I don’t like it.”
As Darbakh, Ramona, and Five walked toward Mahadi's setup, they couldn't help but be impressed by the splendor that had been arranged on such short notice. Mahadi had spared no effort in his attempt to woo them. Brightly colored tarps stretched overhead, casting shade and providing a hint of coolness amidst Avernus' relentless heat. Luxurious carpets covered the ground beneath their feet, and soft cushions were arranged in a semi-circle, offering comfort in this unforgiving land.
Mahadi's porters worked with precision, setting up a table laden with refreshments that gleamed with temptation. Platters of succulent fruits, chilled wines, and exotic pastries adorned the table. The air carried the scent of spices and roasted meats, a stark contrast to the dusty, acrid aroma of Avernus.
Mahadi welcomed them with a wide, charming smile. "Ah, my dear friends, I'm delighted you're awake. I have splendid news to share," he declared with enthusiasm, his tone radiating cheerfulness. "I've made significant progress on your request to leave Avernus. Please, have a seat so we can discuss this over some refreshments."
Ramona and Five exchanged skeptical glances but chose to comply. They found cushions and settled themselves amidst the grand display of gifts and comfort that Mahadi had orchestrated. Their expressions were cautious, guarded.
Darbakh, on the other hand, remained standing. His eyebrows furrowed in displeasure, and his tone was blunt, bordering on rudeness. "Why all this show? Why not invite us back to your Emporium to discuss it?"
Mahadi offered a gracious smile, undeterred by Darbakh's lack of decorum. "Ah, my friend Darbakh, always direct and to the point. I brought this humble setup to demonstrate my sincerity and goodwill. You've entrusted me with a weighty task, and I wanted to assure you of my commitment." He gestured to the cushions and the table laden with refreshments, his tone filled with warmth.
Darbakh settled down onto a cushion, and Mahadi's demeanor shifted instantly. His face beamed with jubilance, but there was something in the rapidity of his speech that caught Darbakh's keen sense of observation. Ramona and Five, on the other hand, noticed nothing unusual, just Mahadi's usual exuberance.
As Mahadi started his presentation, the trio's attention was drawn to a series of woven carpets, each one meticulously adorned with pictures and diagrams that formed the visual backbone of his proposal. With a flourish, Mahadi pinned the carpets onto a nearby tripod, arranging them in a neat sequence for the trio to examine. Mahadi's enthusiasm carried on as he delved into the details of his plan. He described a rare and intricate method of casting the gate spell, one that he claimed could effectively address their concerns regarding celestial interference. His fingers pointed to various sections of the woven diagram, tracing the complex steps with precision.
"In this version of the gate spell," he began, his voice filled with the excitement of revelation, "we employ unique reagents and extend the casting time, making it vastly different from any standard incantation. The result? A portal leading straight to Elturel on the prime material plane. But here's the beauty of it," he exclaimed, gesturing at the woven diagram, "it's not just any portal. It's a portal restricted by alignment. Only beings with truly good hearts will be able to pass through."
Mahadi paused for effect, letting the implications of his words sink in. "This means, my friends," he continued, "no fiends can use it. And perhaps more importantly, it might just offer an escape for other good souls trapped in Avernus."
His gaze shifted from one member of the trio to another, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "With this solution, we've circumvented the celestial interference completely," he declared, a note of finality in his voice, as he awaited their response.
Ramona's reaction to Mahadi's news was immediate and visceral. As the words sank in, her eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat. Her hands trembled slightly as a warm sensation of relief and joy washed over her. It was as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders, and for a moment, the harsh reality of Avernus seemed to fade into the background. She looked light-headed, almost euphoric, her gaze filled with gratitude.
Five's reaction was more contained but no less profound. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes fixed on Mahadi. His normally stoic expression was etched with disbelief and a hint of hope. The hobgoblin, known for his pragmatism, was rendered temporarily speechless by the unexpected turn of events. He seemed to be processing the implications of Mahadi's proposal, his mind racing with possibilities.
However, Darbakh's skepticism remained steadfast. Unimpressed by the gifts and the promises, he crossed his powerful arms over his chest and fixed Mahadi with a stern gaze. With a nod towards the wooden chests filled with provisions, he challenged the archdevil's intentions. "If your solution is as solid as you claim," Darbakh said, his voice laced with cynicism, "why the need for all this?" He gestured towards the supplies, his suspicion evident.
Ramona's voice held a gentle urgency as she pleaded with Darbakh, saying, "Please, Darbakh, let's not attack him verbally. This is the solution we've been waiting for."
In response to Darbakh's challenge about the supplies, Mahadi, with a touch of anxiety in his tone, explained, "The provisions are a gift, a token of goodwill for your patience."
Darbakh, unrelenting, raised an eyebrow and countered, "If this solution is as dependable as you claim, open the gate now."
As the tension in the conversation escalated, Five tried to mediate, interjecting with a calm voice, "Darbakh, let's not be rude."
Darbakh triumphantly presented the infernal puzzle box, drawing everyone's attention to it. Mahadi visibly cringed at the sight, recoiling from the box's malevolent presence. Ramona, her voice filled with concern, had pleaded, "Darbakh, please, put that away. We needed to stay civil if we wanted his help."
Unyielding, Darbakh had maintained his stern demeanor and demanded, "Tell me, Mahadi, what was the catch? There's always a silver lining in your plans."
With a sigh, Mahadi, now a bit more combative, had explained the looming issue, "A portal restricted to good-aligned beings would attract evil creatures, particularly the demons of Yeenoghu. They'd come for us." Ramona and Five had shared alarmed glances as the gravity of the situation became clear. Mahadi, still on edge but desperately seeking their cooperation, had reassured them, "Give me more time to find a solution to that problem."
Ramona and Five exchanged worried glances, their expressions mirroring their deep concern. Ramona, her voice laced with anxiety, declared, "This problem makes this plan a non-starter."
Five added somberly, "As it stands, we don't have a solution at all."
Mahadi, sensing he was losing the support of the two who had initially sided with him, grew increasingly dismayed. He attempted to shift the dynamics by adopting a more aggressive tone. "I've been nothing but generous," he argued, his voice rising with frustration. "I'm working tirelessly to find a solution. But it's hard to concentrate when I'm being constantly browbeaten." He tipped his head in Darbakh’s direction.
The duergar remained silent, his fingers dancing over the intricate patterns of the puzzle box's buttons. Mahadi, increasingly nervous, couldn't help but ask, "What are you doing?"
Ramona and Five watched in rapt attention as Darbakh, with a hint of a sardonic sneer, replied, "I've had this cursed box for about fifteen years now. You pick up a few tricks." As he deftly manipulated the levers and bars on the box, he continued, "For instance, I can generate a projected image of the prisoners. They can speak freely, but they won't actually be released."
The realization slowly dawned on Mahadi, his eyes widening with fear as he understood the implications of Darbakh's actions. The scene concluded with a tense air, as the trio prepared for the prisoners' projected image to speak.
The puzzle box creaked open slightly, just enough for a thin wisp of red smoke to slither out. In the midst of the trio, a projected image began to coalesce - the face of an efreeti, a genie from the fiery depths of the elemental plane. It was a frightening sight, the efreeti's visage blazing with the malevolent power of an entity accustomed to granting curses and spreading misery.
This efreeti, named Karzoth, was a name that sent shivers down Mahadi’s spine. An unpayable debt weighed heavily upon the fiendish merchant, and Karzoth was the one he feared above all.
As Karzoth's fiery image took shape, Mahadi hastily retreated, seeking shelter behind a nearby chair. The porters, in sheer terror, scattered in all directions, leaving behind the gifts they had brought. Even Ramona and Five, usually resolute in their demeanor, looked visibly concerned in the projected image of this malevolent genie.
"The genie can't hear or see us," Darbakh asserted firmly. He regarded the fearful projection of Karzoth, the malevolent efreeti, with a touch of satisfaction. "Consider this a reminder, Mahadi, of what a few buttons on this box can do."
Mahadi, trembling, dropped to his knees, his face a picture of desperation. He pleaded, "Please, Darbakh, have mercy! I promise to do whatever you ask, just close the box and erase this image!" His voice quivered with fear as he sought to escape the wrathful presence of Karzoth.
With a few clicks of buttons, Darbakh fulfilled Mahadi’s request, but not before stiffening his upper lip. “Don’t ever talk back to me again,” he ordered. With a deliberate movement, Darbakh closed the infernal puzzle box, causing the image of the malevolent efreeti to dissipate like smoke. He glanced at Mahadi and spoke in measured tones, "Kovik reached out to us, and that's why you're here, isn't it?"
Ramona, her voice filled with exasperation, interjected, "Darbakh, please, let's not turn this into another argument."
Ignoring Ramona's plea, Darbakh focused on Mahadi, his expression stern. "Kovik had some interesting things to say about you, Mahadi."
Mahadi, visibly shaken, finally confessed with a hint of resignation, "It's true that Kovik has a vendetta against me, but believe me, they’re a liar and cannot be trusted. They’ll betray us all."
"Mahadi," Darbakh began, his voice stern, "Aren't you also hiding details from us?"
Ramona interjected once more, this time with a plea, "Darbakh, please, be civil."
Mahadi, his demeanor pleading, chimed in, "Darbakh, please, calm down. I've provisioned your people as a gesture of goodwill. I'd appreciate some goodwill in return."
Darbakh's gaze remained unyielding. "The fact that Karzoth hasn't been released is goodwill enough, Mahadi. Find a true solution before Kovik's next visit."
Five, shaking his head, couldn't help but feel a pang of embarrassment at Darbakh's unyielding cruelty.
Mahadi, shoulders slumped in defeat, nodded at Darbakh's demand. He collected his presentation and, followed by his porters, departed with a heavy heart. The lavish gifts and colorful tarp remained, abandoned in the dusty wastes of Avernus.
Ramona, her voice filled with frustration, let her anger show. "Darbakh, that wasn't fair! You can't just derail the conversation like that."
Darbakh, unyielding, retorted, "Mahadi concealed his own knowledge of Kovik. Who knows what else he's hiding? We can't trust fiends."
Five, his tone a mix of calm and indignation, posed a pointed question to Darbakh, "Do our opinions matter to you at all?"
Darbakh, torn between his stubbornness and his disappointment in himself, remained silent. He watched as Ramona and Five exchanged disappointed glances and then turned to make their way back to the cave.
As they walked away, their voices carried the weight of their disappointment. "I can't believe he acted that way," Ramona murmured.
Five, equally disheartened, replied, "Me neither. I thought he'd understand."
Darbakh stayed behind, alone in the fading light of Avernus, bitter at the situation and his own actions.
Channeling the sad feels because they’re a part of the roller coaster.
Darbakh sat perched atop a solitary boulder, overlooking the desolate plain of Avernus. The landscape stretched out before him, a vast expanse of rust-colored earth under stormy skies. Lightning danced on the horizon, and distant tornadoes twirled like malevolent sentinels. It was a place as barren and turbulent as his thoughts.
Here, away from the cave and its inhabitants, he had sought solitude to confront the truth he had long avoided. The weight of his decisions bore down upon him, and he felt the bitter contradiction of his actions. His intention had always been to safeguard the group, but his approach had been domineering and authoritarian.
Darbakh knew he had overstepped, that his friends were justifiably angry with him. His stubbornness had become a barrier to communication, preventing him from admitting his faults and making amends. He was torn between the desire to protect them and the realization that he had stifled their autonomy.
As the tempest raged in the distance, it mirrored the turmoil within him. The desolation of Avernus mirrored his feelings of isolation and self-doubt. The boulder beneath him offered no comfort, and the storm above offered no solace. Darbakh's gaze remained fixed on the tumultuous plains, the landscape an apt reflection of the tumultuous battle within his own soul.
In this desolate, introspective moment, Pendor, Darbakh's loyal primal animal companion, sensed his master's inner turmoil through their deep magical bond. With a quiet grace, the creature approached Darbakh, understanding that something was amiss. As Pendor landed softly beside Darbakh, he watched the duergar closely, his intelligent eyes mirroring the concern he felt for his master. With an innocence only found in creatures of nature, Pendor inched closer to Darbakh.
In a simple yet profound gesture, Pendor attempted to nuzzle his head under Darbakh's hand, seeking comfort and connection. It was as if he understood that sometimes, a touch, a moment of connection, could help ease the weight of the burdens carried in the heart.
In the midst of his introspective turmoil, Darbakh remained unmoved by Pendor's attempt at comfort. As the loyal primal animal companion leaned in, seeking solace in their connection, Darbakh's arm moved with a cold, thoughtless detachment. He grabbed Pendor by the ear, a gesture as casual as one might toss a pebble for amusement, and carelessly tossed the bat to the ground.
There was no joy in Darbakh's action, no satisfaction or amusement. He remained seated, unfeeling, as if he had discarded an insignificant object.
Pendor, stunned and hurt, lay sprawled on the barren ground, his eyes reflecting a profound sense of betrayal. Struggling to comprehend the inexplicable act of callousness from his master, he lifted his head from the dirt. His eyes bore the unmistakable look of betrayal as he gazed up at Darbakh, questioning just one word, a word heavy with anguish: "Why?"
Darbakh, still absorbed in his own inner turmoil, remained unresponsive for a moment. Finally, with an indifferent tone and without even glancing at Pendor, he replied in three curt words, "Felt like it."
Pendor's confusion deepened, and he stammered out his true question, his voice quivering with hurt, "No, I meant... Why do you hate me?"
It was only then that Darbakh tore his attention away from his thoughts, his brow furrowing in confusion as he looked down at Pendor, not comprehending the accusation that had just been hurled at him. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice laced with bewilderment.
As Darbakh's gaze finally settled on Pendor, he couldn't help but notice the watery sheen in the bat's eyes. The creature lay there, still in the dirt, unmoving, not bothering to get up or dust himself off. It was a different kind of hurt, one not borne of physical pain but something far deeper.
Pendor, his voice laden with a vulnerability that Darbakh had rarely seen in his animal companion, repeated the question, his tone pleading, "Why do you hate me?"
Darbakh shifted uncomfortably on the boulder, his stern facade cracking as he gazed upon Pendor's wounded expression. Emotions were a tangled web that he had never been adept at navigating. Admitting fault, showing vulnerability - these were alien concepts to him.
The realization washed over him that his thoughtless action, tossing Pendor to the ground as if he were an inconsequential object, had been needlessly mean. But in the face of this newfound awareness, Darbakh felt a sense of helplessness. He didn't know how to apologize, what words to use, or even what actions to take to make amends. His own stubbornness and pride had become his shackles, binding him to a self-imposed isolation.
For a moment, Darbakh's gaze fell to the barren, rust-colored ground, and he wrestled with his own insecurities. He wanted to mend what he had broken, but the path ahead seemed obscured by his own limitations.
Darbakh's response came, but it was not delivered with his usual certainty or confidence. "I don't hate you," he said, his voice trailing off.
Pendor, still lying in the dirt, questioned with a sincerity that cut through Darbakh's defenses, "How can you say you don't hate me when you treat me so badly?" There was no accusation in Pendor's words, only the innocent confusion of someone who genuinely couldn't understand what they had done wrong. "Why do you treat me this way if you don't hate me?"
Darbakh began, struggling to find the right words, "Pendor, I don't hate you. I might be... harsh sometimes-"
Pendor, now genuinely confused and hurt, interrupted with a squeaky and increasingly frantic voice. "But I've been good! I've been loyal, followed orders, stayed by your side!" His voice wavered with emotion. "You yell at me, always put my ideas down, throw me like... like an object!" His voice shook as he continued, "You made fun of how I chew food in front of the refugee children, said it's stupid. How can that even be related to intelligence? Why do you make me look bad in front of everyone?"
In a low, remorseful voice, Darbakh muttered, "I don't know why I do those things, Pendor."
Pendor's frantic demeanor only intensified. "But if you don't know what I've done wrong, how can I avoid it?" His voice quivered with desperation. "We're bonded, our souls connected. You saved me from the brink, but now my essence is tied to yours. I have no options, nowhere else to go, nobody else to live with." His eyes welled up with sadness and frustration. "I'm condemned to serve someone who never thinks I'm good enough."
Darbakh stared at Pendor, finally realizing the gravity of his actions, but he was at a loss for words. He cautiously suggested, "Maybe there's a way to sever our bond."
Pendor's eyes filled with tears at this remark. He trembled and asked, "Do you... do you want to get rid of me?"
Darbakh's face contorted with discomfort. "No, Pendor, I didn't mean it that way."
But Pendor was already distraught. "Then why?" he sobbed. "Why don't you want me around? Why does nobody want me around?" His voice quivered with despair as he continued, "Why didn't Tiamat save me? Why don't you want me? Why am I cursed to live in a world where I only exist to be hurt?"
Pendor's distress was palpable, and he was nearing a nervous breakdown. In a bewildered tone, Darbakh finally asked, "Were you hurt when I threw you onto the ground?" He was just starting to grasp the emotional pain he'd inflicted upon his loyal companion.
Pendor reached a breaking point with Darbakh's bewildered question. ”What the…no! That’s not what…how can you be so obtuse?” His voice quivered with a mixture of frustration and despair as he responded, "No, not physically. I'm hurt inside, Darbakh. Don't you remember what I told you about my condition when we first met?”
Darbakh recalled that Pendor had been injured, likely suffering from internal bleeding. But Pendor shook his head vigorously. "That's not what I meant," he said, his voice cracking. "I meant... I face abuse from you all day, every day. I'm never calm enough to face my trauma. Have you ever considered your words, Darbakh? You spoke about the cruelty of humans when we discussed the Yeenoghu cultists. Did you ever ponder what my situation must feel like?"
Pendor's voice trembled as he recalled his past as an abishai. "They pulled me from the sky with harpoons," he said, his eyes filled with tears. "For a flying creature, being yanked to the ground and swarmed... It's as traumatic as pinning a prey animal belly-up."
Tears streamed down Pendor's face as he continued, his voice choked with emotion. "The cultists... they did unspeakable things to me. They forced me to watch the statue of Tiamat at my shrine while they defiled it, then they took away my sight - that was only the beginning of what they did. I cried out to Tiamat for help, but she didn't answer. Nobody answered!"
His sobs grew more pronounced as he revealed his deepest fears. "At night, I wanted to sleep next to you, Darbakh, the only person I have left in this world. I can't close my eyes in the dark. When I do, I remember being helpless, blinded, as they dismantled me. It feels like the cultists are still inside of me, digging with their fingers and pulling pieces of me out..." He continued to pour out his pain through tearful words. "The pact... it gave me a new body, but I'm not the same. It's like the pieces they took from me were reassembled in the wrong order. Some parts are missing, others are misplaced. I don't know where I fit anymore..."
His voice quivered as he spoke, reliving the torment he had endured. But then, Darbakh, awkward and unsure, reached out and hugged Pendor. At first, it was an unfamiliar gesture, mechanical and unpracticed. His hug was like a wrestler’s body lock at first, and the duergar tensed up like he were performing a series of steps under an inspector’s gaze. However, as Darbakh loosened his embrace, Pendor's words fell silent. Old, long lost memories of a truant father and a prodigal son were etched into Darbakh’s muscle memory, and even the uncomfortably hot air of Avernus was forgotten as old experiences were remembered. After ignoring his initial bristling reaction, the duergar almost felt relaxed while holding a smaller, emotionally attached being in his arms.
Pendor cried softly for a while longer, but the warmth of Darbakh's embrace began to soothe his broken spirit. His breathing gradually evened out, and he found a measure of comfort in Darbakh's arms.
Finally, Darbakh spoke, his voice filled with remorse. "I did wrong, Pendor. I'm so sorry." The duergar felt something change within him as he apologized. His racing heart began to slow, a tingling sensation crept across his forehead, and a wave of relaxation washed over him. He looked at Pendor, the little creature who had been crying, and asked, "What did you do?"
Pendor blinked, surprised by the question. "What do you mean?"
Darbakh gestured vaguely while trying to explain the newfound calmness he felt. "This strange feeling. It's... different. Like you casted a charm spell, but those don’t work on me.”
Pendor gave a small, knowing smile on his mammalian snout. "That's probably happiness, Darbakh. That’s what people feel when they say sorry and mean it."
Darbakh paused, absorbing Pendor's words. Then, he picked up the bat-like creature, holding him like a loyal dog. "Thank you, Pendor. I think I understand now. And I promise not to punish you for my own disappointment.” As he walked back toward the cave, the primal animal clung to him like a pet being carried. ”I know what I need to do for everyone else, too.”
In the sheltered alcove amidst the rugged crags and hills of Avernus, four figures sat in quiet anticipation. The small meeting area, tucked away from the harsh winds and the ever-present haze, had become a makeshift haven for the refugees. Ramona and Five, though resigned, wore expressions heavy with discontent, their usual banter reduced to a heavy silence.
Ulthian and Maisa, who had joined them for this gathering, exchanged glances filled with uncertainty. They had no knowledge of the rift that had formed among their leaders in recent days, unaware of the disagreement that had left Ramona and Five disheartened.
Darbakh nodded at his companions as he and Pendor approached the meeting area. "Thank you all for coming," he began, his voice carrying a solemn tone. He glanced at Ramona and Five, whose subdued demeanor didn't go unnoticed.
Ulthian, a crow perched on his shoulder, and Maisa, with a distant look in her eyes, greeted Darbakh. "What's this meeting about, Darbakh?" Ulthian inquired casually, unaware of the undercurrents.
Maisa chimed in, her tone just as curious, "Yes, we were wondering why we were called here."
Darbakh cleared his throat, struggling to maintain composure. "We've got some important matters to discuss," he replied cryptically, not wanting to reveal the ongoing discord among the leaders just yet. "But before that, how's everything on your end, Ulthian? Any signs of trouble?"
Ulthian shook his feathery head, seemingly unfazed by the brewing tension. "Nope, all clear so far," he replied, his focus on his ongoing scouting duties. "A few minor disturbances from wandering devils, but nothing we couldn't handle."
Maisa added, "I've been helping the injured refugees, trying to make sure everyone's as comfortable as possible. There's a shortage of medical supplies, but we're making do."
Darbakh nodded, appreciating their efforts. He turned his attention back to Ramona and Five. His voice, usually commanding, was unusually low as he began, "Ramona, Five... I know you're both upset with me, and you have every right to be."
Ramona and Five remained silent, their expressions a mix of hurt and frustration.
Darbakh continued, "I've made mistakes as a leader, and for that, I'm truly sorry. You, and all the refugees, deserve better." He could see the skepticism in their eyes, but he pressed on, determined to make amends. "I apologize for ordering half the refugees to form a militia without asking for their consent. It was wrong of me to make such a decision without your input."
Ramona and Five exchanged a glance but stayed quiet, allowing Darbakh to continue.
"I also apologize for deciding to play Mahadi and Kovik against each other without consulting anyone else first. It was reckless, and it put us all at risk," Darbakh admitted, his voice filled with remorse. The weight of his actions settled heavily on him as he finally addressed the last issue, "And threatening Mahadi unilaterally, without unity, was a mistake. I see that now."
Ulthian and Maisa exchanged a quick glance and then both nodded in acceptance of Darbakh's apology. Ulthian spoke up first, his voice light, "No worries, Darbakh. We've all had our moments."
Maisa chimed in, "That's right. We're a team, and teams make mistakes."
Ramona and Five, on the other hand, were more cautious in their response. Ramona offered a small, hesitant smile. "Thank you, Darbakh, for acknowledging your mistakes. It means a lot."
Five nodded in agreement, adding, "We know you're the most experienced among us, and we trust your judgment. But please, Darbakh, remember to involve all of us in decisions. We follow your lead because we respect your capabilities, so respect our input too."
Darbakh absorbed their words, realizing that his actions had affected not only their trust but also the unity of the group. He nodded solemnly, understanding the need for better communication and teamwork. "You're right. I'll do better, and I promise to include all of you in our decisions from now on."
Five's observation hung in the air, a stark reminder of their predicament. He looked at Darbakh, his eyes searching for answers. "So, what's our next move?"
Darbakh shrugged in a carefree manner, and he felt like a boulder slipped off his back. "I don't know."
The uncertainty in Darbakh's response left the group puzzled. Maisa leaned forward, her brows furrowing. "Why did you call this meeting, then?"
Darbakh met their gazes, his voice sincere. "Because I've been doing too much talking and not enough listening. If I were to gather you all here just to present my own ideas, it would contradict the apology I just made."
Amid the uncertainty that hung in the air, Ramona felt a glimmer of optimism. Darbakh's newfound respect for their opinions buoyed her spirits. Cautiously, she raised her hand and, when she had everyone's attention, she began.
"I have a comment," Ramona started, restating the positions she and Darbakh had previously held - her support for Mahadi and Darbakh's plan to play the fiends against each other. "While Darbakh's approach may have been reckless," she continued, "the core idea was sound. Instead of choosing sides between Mahadi and Kovik, why not seek a compromise? We can persuade both of them, along with those trapped inside that infernal puzzle box, to work together for a solution that gets us all out of Avernus and back to Elturel."
Five appeared skeptical, and he voiced his concerns. "What's stopping the two fiends from conspiring if we work with both of them?" he asked, a hint of suspicion in his tone.
Ramona nodded, understanding his worry. "That's a legitimate concern," she admitted. "But remember, each of these fiends fears a different monster trapped in Darbakh's puzzle box. They have no common ground there. Their interests will either pit them against each other or force them to cooperate. If they could have worked together, they would have done so already."
Five considered her words, and after a moment, he nodded in agreement.
Maisa chimed in, though, with a more cautious perspective. "While I understand the idea, we don't know enough about the otherworldly magic and politics at play here. Forcing a compromise may not be as straightforward as it sounds."
Ramona remained resolute in her stance. "Remember what we've learned since arriving in the Nine Hells," she said, addressing Maisa's concerns. "This is a place built on contracts, pacts, and bargains. The genie in that box, who also happens to be Mahadi's enemy, hails from the City of Brass, a realm equally entangled in pacts and agreements."
Darbakh nodded in confirmation, recalling his interaction with the genie's projected voice. "Yes, that genie did mention the significance of contracts in its realm," he confirmed. “I’m able to speak to both monsters while they’re in the box.”
Ramona continued, her voice steady. "We can use our knowledge of these beings and the rules they abide by to compel them into an agreement that serves everyone's interests."
Five, now intrigued by the idea, leaned forward and asked, "What kind of agreement are you thinking of, Ramona?"
Ramona took a sturdy stick and began to draw a complex diagram in the gritty sand of their meeting spot. She carefully illustrated a series of concentric circles, each representing one of the key players: Karzoth the efreeti, Malgog the horned devil, Kovik the chain devil, and Mahadi the enigmatic fiend.
With practiced finesse, she created lines connecting these circles, depicting the various desires, animosities, and interests that intertwined among them. Her confident demeanor made it clear that this strategic thinking was reminiscent of her days managing her business.
Turning to the group, she assumed the role of a determined teacher. "We need to list everything we know about what these creatures want," Ramona declared, gesturing to the intricate diagram. "Their desires and motivations may overlap or contradict each other, but that's where we can find an opportunity."
As she concluded, she looked at each member of the gathered group – Darbakh, Five, Maisa, and Ulthian. "We have nothing else to do except brainstorm," she continued, her tone serious. "If we can't find a way out of Hell, we know what will happen."
Maisa wondered aloud, ”How could we possibly persuade Mahadi and Kovik, two fiends, to negotiate sincerely? Even if we devised a brilliant compromise, what motivation would these two have to deal with us genuinely?”
Without a moment's hesitation, Ramona replied, her confidence unwavering. "Bringing Mahadi to the negotiating table will be up to me and Five." Her eyes met those of her companions, conveying a silent determination.
Five seemed a bit taken aback. "Why us?" he asked, curious about her choice.
Ramona's answer was clear and concise. "Darbakh needs to apologize to Mahadi. However, it should be indirect, through us, to avoid any further alienation."
Darbakh looked slightly embarrassed but nodded, understanding the wisdom in her words. Maisa then redirected the conversation. “What about Kovik?” she asked.
Ulthian, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "I see Kovik every day, patrolling our hideout for danger. I can approach them and discuss the situation."
The group exchanged glances and nods of agreement. It seemed settled that while Mahadi might require a delicate touch, Kovik would be the easiest fiend to bring to the negotiating table.
Intrigued by the challenges that lay ahead, Maisa asked, "Are there any details we might have overlooked, Ramona?"
Ramona chuckled and replied, "I don't know; you should be telling me. If I knew that we overlooked something, then I’d look at it."
Ulthian, his curiosity piqued, inquired, "What about the efreeti and horned devil trapped inside that puzzle box? How do we involve them?"
Ramona reassured them, "Darbakh has a way to project their image or voice without setting them free. That shouldn't be a problem."
Five, ever the pragmatist, delved into the nitty-gritty, asking, "What about the specifics of the compromise to return us to Elturel? Fiends are notorious for their deceit; they might slip in tricky language to confuse us."
An uneasy silence hung in the air until Darbakh nudged Pendor forward. He spoke up, "Pendor here, my primal companion, has experience with such matters. He can inspect any agreements for deception."
Pendor gazed up at Darbakh, a sense of pride shining in his eyes. Darbakh remained stoic, his demeanor unchanging, but Pendor was pleased to be included in the group's plans.
A brief, contented silence hung in the air as they all considered the potential of their new strategy. For the first time in a while, a glimmer of hope emerged from the depths of Hell.
Finally, breaking the silence, Darbakh stood up and declared, "Let's get to work."
Darbakh and Five sat quietly within the spacious tent, the heavy silence contrasting with the otherworldly chaos outside. A mild breeze carried the sulfurous scent of Avernus, where red skies stretched endlessly, punctuated by swirling storms.
In the distance, they saw Mahadi and his halfling porters approaching. Mahadi seemed hesitant, his steps measured as he approached Darbakh. The hobgoblin leader remained composed, his gaze fixed on Mahadi's every move.
As Mahadi drew near, Darbakh rose from his cushion, a solemn acknowledgment of the meeting's significance. Five, his ever-watchful companion, remained seated, a vigilant presence.
Mahadi cleared his throat, his voice laced with a touch of unease. "Darbakh," he began, "I appreciate your willingness to meet like this."
Darbakh nodded, his eyes locked onto Mahadi. "We need to discuss our situation. Let's not waste time."
Mahadi's entourage shuffled nervously in the background, their eyes darting between the two leaders. Mahadi, however, took a step forward, his voice a shade more confident. "I received your written apology for the previous misunderstanding. I appreciate it."
Darbakh inclined his head slightly. "Consider it a gesture of goodwill, Mahadi. Now, let's focus on finding a solution to our shared predicament."
Kovik's arrival was a stark contrast to Mahadi's cautious steps. The chain devil appeared unaccompanied, their imposing figure silhouetted against the fiery backdrop of Avernus. Unlike Mahadi, who comfortably settled onto a cushion, Kovik chose the humble carpet beneath them, a deliberate show of indifference to their surroundings.
Mahadi greeted Kovik with a friendly smile, his words warm with civility. "Kovik, my old friend, it's a pleasure to see you again. We've been waiting for this opportunity to talk."
Kovik's response was silence. They remained stone-faced, their eyes fixed on the ground. No pleasantries were exchanged, no courtesies offered.
Five, noticing the palpable tension, cleared their throat and addressed the situation. "We appreciate your presence, Kovik. But we aren't the ones who will be presenting our proposal today. We're waiting for more representatives to arrive."
Then, a different kind of energy entered the space. Ramona, Maisa, and Ulthian approached together, their steps measured and purposeful. They hadn't been part of the earlier discussions, and both Mahadi and Kovik were taken aback by their presence.
Mahadi's curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn't help but voice his inquiry. "Well, this is quite the gathering. What do these new representatives have to share with us today?"
Ramona, with a nod of acknowledgment, stepped forward to address the assembly. "Thank you for coming, Mahadi, Kovik. We appreciate your willingness to join us for this discussion. We believe that working together can lead to a resolution that benefits everyone involved."
Ramona's voice carried conviction as she addressed the assembly. "The leaders of the refugees have held consultations, and we believe there is an opportunity for all of us here to find a mutually beneficial solution."
Mahadi leaned forward with genuine interest, but Kovik, their eyes tangled within the chains, wore an expression of stark bewilderment. Kovik didn't mince words, asking, "What could we possibly have in common with Mahadi?"
A small, knowing smile graced Ramona's lips as she replied, "I'm glad you asked that question." With that, the stage was set for her to unveil her proposal, a plan that could bridge the gap between these seemingly disparate parties.
Ramona stood in the midst of the assembly, her demeanor methodical and patient. "Let's clarify our needs," she began. "Mahadi, you want to protect your business interests from Karzoth, correct?"
Mahadi nodded, his eyes firmly fixed on Ramona.
"Kovik, you need to secure your warband from Malgog's influence," she continued, turning her attention to the chain devil.
Kovik gave an affirming nod, their chains clinking softly.
Ramona then addressed her friends. "And we all agree that the refugees need a way back to the prime material plane, correct?" Both Maisa and Ulthian nodded in agreement.
She concluded with a smile, "Satisfying all these needs is simpler than trying to address any one of them in isolation." It was a powerful statement, framing their negotiation as an opportunity to address multiple concerns at once.
Ramona presented her proposal with a calm and measured tone. "Here's what we suggest: The refugees require a portal back to Elturel, something Mahadi is capable of creating. However, this would undoubtedly attract demons due to the magic involved. We need armed protection from these demons, which Kovik and their warband can provide.
"To make this plan work, we'll need a specific location for the portal, ideally a broad, flat hill, which will require fortification. Kovik's warband, with their extensive knowledge of Avernus, is in the best position to locate such a hill. And fortifying it? Well, that's where Mahadi's laborers come in."
Ramona paused to let her words sink in before concluding, "The needs of the refugees can only be met if Mahadi and Kovik work together. Alone, neither of you can provide a solution that ensures the safety of the refugees. Cooperation is the key."
Mahadi listened attentively, recognizing the logic in her words. After a brief moment of contemplation, he spoke up. "Your proposal makes sense, Ramona. But what can the refugees offer to both sides in return for our cooperation?"
Ramona acknowledged Mahadi's question with a nod and a slight smile. "Thank you for asking, Mahadi," she said graciously. Then, turning her attention towards Darbakh, she continued, "Darbakh has extensive knowledge about the nature of the infernal puzzle box, which can provide an answer to your question."
Darbakh, his voice measured and confident, continued Ramona's line of thought. "The compromise lies within the nature of the infernal puzzle box, which I've come to understand over the past fifteen years. This box, it contains not just one, but both of the beings you seek to control – Karzoth and Malgog. If I release one of them unconditionally, the other will be eternally trapped."
He paused, realizing he had delved into this explanation without involving Mahadi and Kovik in the conversation. His gaze shifted between the two fiends, and he asked with a hint of concern, "Do both of you understand the implications of the box so far?"
Mahadi's brow furrowed as he considered Darbakh's words. "I understand," he said cautiously, looking directly at Darbakh.
Kovik, on the other hand, simply nodded, their expression unreadable (mainly due to the chains).
Darbakh cleared his throat, grateful for the encouragement from Ramona. "You see," he continued, "the unconditional release, as I mentioned, would require one of you to die." His words hung heavily in the tense atmosphere of the tent. He could feel Mahadi's skeptical gaze on him, which prompted Ramona to nudge him gently.
"But," Darbakh went on, "I believe there's an alternative, a way to avoid any loss of life. I have a unique connection with both Karzoth and Malgog. I can communicate with them without actually releasing them, which has allowed me to gain insights that the two of you may not possess."
Darbakh cleared his throat and continued, "You see, we were so focused on the idea of unconditional release that we ignored another possibility. Why not a conditional release?" He raised an eyebrow, pausing for dramatic effect.
The two fiends, Mahadi and Kovik, exchanged puzzled glances. Mahadi was the first to speak, his voice filled with skepticism, "Conditional release? How would that even work?"
Kovik chimed in, their tone equally doubtful, "And what kind of conditions were we talking about here?"
Darbakh smirked slightly, realizing he had their attention now. "Ah, well, that's where our proposal gets interesting," he said. "We devised a plan, my friends, a way to bypass the trapping mechanism of the infernal puzzle box. Instead of an unconditional release, we would negotiate a set of safety conditions for the two entities inside."
Mahadi leaned forward, intrigued despite himself. "Safety conditions? Go on."
Kovik, still skeptical but curious, nodded for Darbakh to continue.
Darbakh continued, explaining the safety conditions with their full attention. "I'll compel these trapped monsters by releasing their voices first, one at a time," he explained. "It's crucial that neither of them can interact with the other. By isolating them, we can propose the conditions without the risk of them conspiring."
Kovik, still attentive, asked, "And what if one of these monsters decides to argue against our conditions?"
Darbakh replied confidently, "In that case, I'll falsely threaten to trap them forever. They won't have the means to resist."
Kovik stared intently at Darbakh, their piercing gaze demanding answers. Ramona nudged Darbakh, a subtle reminder to address Kovik's question about the specific conditions. Darbakh, with a newfound focus, nodded and cleared his throat, ready to explain. Just as he began to speak, Five handed Darbakh a note, listing the carefully thought-out conditions. Darbakh glanced at the note, then back at Mahadi and Kovik, who were growing increasingly impatient.
With the conditions in hand, Darbakh reviewed them and asked a few questions under his breath, ensuring every detail was in order. The tent was filled with a tense silence as everyone awaited the next steps in this critical negotiation. Darbakh took a moment to clear his throat before listing the conditions they would compel Karzoth to accept.
"First, Karzoth must forgive all debts he owes to Mahadi," he began, his voice flat as if reading off a list. "Second, Karzoth is forbidden from willingly entering either the Nine Hells and the Prime Material Plane. If, by any chance, he finds himself in either realm through means beyond his control, he must leave immediately. Lastly, Karzoth shall disengage entirely from the affairs of Mahadi, myself, and the people of Elturel."
As Darbakh detailed these conditions, Mahadi's eyes sparkled with anticipation. He turned to the group of mortals - Darbakh, Ramona, Five, Ulthian, and Maisa - and enthusiastically declared, "This is everything I've ever wanted. I'll provide any assistance needed to ensure Karzoth accepts these terms."
Darbakh turned his attention to Kovik, who had been silently waiting. He began to list the conditions for Malgog.
"First," Darbakh said, "Malgog can return to the Nine Hells, but he's forbidden from entering Avernus. If he's brought to Avernus against his will, he must immediately leave to a different level of Hell. Second, neither Malgog nor any devil under his command can interact with or report on you, Kovik, or your warband. Lastly, Malgog must cease all interactions with me, the refugees, or anyone else from Elturel."
Kovik paused for a moment, considering the terms. Finally, they responded, "I'll agree to help if you can compel Malgog, but I have my doubts that he'll accept these conditions willingly."
Darbakh's expression remained stern, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes at Kovik's doubt. He turned his attention back to the puzzle box.
"We'll see about that," he murmured quietly.
With careful manipulation of the infernal puzzle box, Darbakh summoned a projected image of Malgog, the horned devil. As the fiery, menacing figure materialized before them, Maisa couldn't help but flee to Ulthian's side, seeking comfort in his protective embrace. Five tensed up, his features hardening.
Kovik, who had exuded an air of confidence until now, shifted nervously where they were sitting, their demeanor suddenly less assured. Malgog's infernal visage was a sight to behold – fiery eyes, curling horns, and a leathery, scaled body adorned with sharp, wicked spines.
In a voice dripping with false politeness, Malgog spoke, "Ah, Darbakh, I knew the day would come when you'd contact me again. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"
Darbakh's voice was curt but not overtly rude as he addressed the horned devil. "You owe the unexpected pleasure to your release. I've grown weary of this blasted box."
In response, a surprising transformation overcame Malgog's visage. The horned devil, typically an embodiment of evil, appeared tired, relieved, and even somewhat grateful. Malgog's fiery gaze softened, and he nodded appreciatively. "Thank you for your understanding." However, he was a devil, and no interaction came without a price. Malgog inquired, "What do you desire in return?"
Darbakh didn't hesitate. "A pact, witnessed by Mahadi. It's time to end this chapter."
Malgog's twisted grin only widened as he questioned the presence of Mahadi. "Mahadi, an official notary for infernal contracts? Truly fascinating. Isn't it a scandalous little secret that he is, in fact, a rakshasa disguised as a human?" Malgog's words dripped with amusement, and he took clear pleasure in revealing this tidbit.
Ramona, Ulthian, and Maisa all looked to the rakshasa-in-disguise with questioning suspicion written all over their faces. Mahadi squirmed uncomfortably, his fiendish facade momentarily slipping into embarrassment and indignation.
Ignoring Mahadi's objections, Malgog turned his attention back to Darbakh, maintaining his feigned politeness. "Now, my dear Duergar, what are these conditions you propose? I'd be ever so eager to hear them." As Malgog's image conversed with Darbakh, Kovik, who remained unseen by Malgog, sat in dumbfounded disbelief at the sudden turn of events.
Darbakh firmly restated the conditions, his voice carrying the weight of finality. "Malgog, you are to stay out of Avernus at all costs, refrain from any hostilities against Kovik or his warband, and leave me and the people of Elturel in peace."
Mahadi, with a sly grin, conjured an infernal contract in the air, the parchment made of shimmering, crimson essence, and began writing the terms with a flaming pen.
Malgog, looking tired yet agreeable, readily accepted the conditions. "I agree to these terms, Darbakh," he said with an air of finality. "You may sign my name as power of attorney, Mahadi."
As Mahadi wrote Malgog's name upon the contract, the horned devil's signature appeared in flames, sealing the pact.
However, Kovik, who had been observing this whole exchange with a mix of astonishment and incredulity, muttered under their breath, "I should have demanded more."
With the pact now sealed, Darbakh stated firmly, "The deal is done. Malgog, if you would, wait for a moment inside the puzzle box."
Malgog, his resentful gaze locked on Darbakh, nodded grudgingly. The true malice of a horned devil shone through his devilish visage. He reminded Darbakh with a tone of warning, "The deal has been signed, dwarf. I will wait, but be mindful, for there will be consequences now if you don't release me."
Darbakh, brushing off the threat, replied with a hint of impatience, "Don't get your nickers in a bunch."
This audacious response from Darbakh seemed to both offend and amuse those present. Five couldn't help but let out a chuckle, while Malgog, his rage growing, never had the chance to respond. Darbakh swiftly shunted the horned devil back into the puzzle box before he could utter a further word.
Darbakh, undaunted by the malevolent presence he was about to unleash, deftly manipulated the puzzle box once more. Slowly, the ghastly projection of Karzoth began to materialize. Karzoth's visage was nothing short of terrifying - the embodiment of hatred and tyranny. His fiery eyes burned with a malevolence that sent shivers down the spines of those who witnessed him. Even Ramona, who could usually conceal her reactions, looked almost regretful for what had been set in motion.
Mahadi, visibly shaken and afraid, dropped his flaming pen, its flames extinguishing as it hit the ground. Unlike Malgog, who had reluctantly agreed to the terms, Karzoth was unyielding. His voice resonated with command, a cruel demand directed squarely at Darbakh. "Let me out of this infernal prison, you wretched mortal!"
Darbakh's voice grew stern and disciplinary as he addressed the malevolent genie. "You will be released when and where I please," he declared firmly.
Karzoth, unrelenting and aggressive, retorted, "You are required to release me!"
Annoyance laced Darbakh's tone as he snapped back, "Keep quiet and listen to the terms for your release."
But Karzoth, full of defiance, refused to yield. "I will not be compelled."
Mahadi, observing this exchange with a mixture of apprehension and frustration, remarked, "You see what I have to deal with?"
Karzoth, unable to see anyone around him but hearing Mahadi's voice, snarled, "I recognize that voice, Mahadi. I promise to tear Avernus apart until I've extracted what I'm owed."
Darbakh sighed, his patience waning. "You're not even capable of doing that," he retorted, but Karzoth remained undeterred, swearing vehemently that he would. Frustrated, Darbakh threatened, "I'm about to release Malgog and trap you forever if you don't shut up and listen."
Karzoth continued his furious rant, his voice growing louder and more venomous by the second; one of Mahadi’s porters actually fainted. But Darbakh had had enough. He deftly manipulated the puzzle box, silencing Karzoth's image. The genie's face contorted with anger as he realized he could no longer speak. His eyes blazed with fury, but his voice had been abruptly silenced. Darbakh leaned back and told everyone to wait. "He'll get tired of yelling at nothing eventually," he remarked confidently.
Karzoth's rage-filled tirade continued for a few more minutes, but eventually, even the most relentless anger runs out of steam. Five sighed in relief, and Kovik looked like they were about to doze off.
When Karzoth finally stopped shouting, Darbakh cleared his throat and addressed the seething efreeti's image. "Now, listen carefully, Karzoth. If you ever want to see the light of day again, here are the terms. You will not set foot in either the Nine Hells or the Prime Material Plane, and you shall never take any actions against the interests of myself or the people of Elturel. Furthermore, you must forgive all of Mahadi's debts."
Karzoth's image remained silent, but his face contorted with rage as if he were still yelling, his fiery visage blazing with impotent fury.
Darbakh interrupted Karzoth to say that he was releasing Malgog now, but Karzoth raised his hands to stop Darbakh. Darbakh then manipulated the box to let Karzoth speak again and asked if he had any last words.
Karzoth's image flickered, and for a moment, the fiery rage in his eyes was replaced with contemplation. The whole group leaned forward, hanging on the genie's every word. After a long and tense pause, Karzoth finally spoke, his voice seething with anger and resignation.
"Very well, Duergar. I... agree."
A collective sigh of relief escaped from the group, and Darbakh nodded in satisfaction. He proceeded to manipulate the puzzle box once more, sealing Karzoth's image within, but this time without the furious rants.
Mahadi wasted no time. As a collective sigh of relief swept through the group, he urgently wrote down the details of the contract, his pen nearly catching fire from the speed of his writing. With a flourish, he signed off on it. As he tried to hand the contract over to the group, Pendor swooped down, landing gracefully on the table. With surprising dexterity for a creature of his kind, he took the contract delicately in his mouth and began to peruse it.
Mahadi furrowed his brow at this unexpected interruption.
“What's this all about?" he asked.
Darbakh, always composed, replied smoothly. "Before the representatives of the refugees sign anything, we need our professional consultant to review the terms."
Mahadi chuckled dismissively. "A professional consultant? This is an animal, not a lawyer!"
Everyone in the tent seemed to collectively ignore Mahadi's protests as Pendor, the bat, continued to scrutinize the contract with keen interest. It was a bizarre sight - a creature more accustomed to flying through moonlit skies than reviewing legal documents.
After a moment, Pendor let out a series of high-pitched clicks and chirps, catching Darbakh's attention. With an almost knowing nod, Darbakh leaned closer to Pendor, listening intently. “There’s no assurance that these two fiends won’t attack your people as soon as the portal is open. They’re only compelled to bring you to the location and open the portal; we need to force them to see this through to the end without any tricks.”
Of course, nobody understood the animal companion’s speech except for Darbakh. He straightened up and turned to Mahadi, his expression serious.
"We need to add a clause," Darbakh stated firmly.
Mahadi raised an eyebrow, still perplexed by the entire situation. "A clause? What kind of clause?"
Darbakh leaned in and made his demand clear. "A clause that prevents you, Kovik, and us from fighting each other."
Kovik, who had been observing this exchange, spoke up. "That should have been in there from the beginning."
Mahadi laughed uncomfortably, scratching his head. "Ah, yes, it seems I overlooked that minor detail by mistake."
With a hint of annoyance in his eyes, Darbakh watched Mahadi as the fiend begrudgingly added the clause to the contract. The tension in the tent seemed to ease as Mahadi, with a hint of reluctance, added the requested clause to the contract. Pendor and Kovik both scrutinized the document carefully. After a thorough inspection, Pendor issued a series of approving clicks and chirps, indicating that the contract was now safe.
Kovik wasted no time and signed for their formidable warband. With a sense of responsibility and determination, Darbakh, Ramona, Five, Maisa, and Ulthian all stepped forward as representatives of the refugees and added their signatures to the parchment. With a faint, magical poof, the contract disappeared, leaving behind a sense of anticipation and resolution in its wake.
As the weight of their signed agreement settled in, Ramona was the first to break the silence. "So, what's the next step?"
Kovik, their enigmatic ally, took a moment to ponder before responding. "I can lead my warband to a nearby hill. It's broad, flat, and steep, making it highly defensible."
Mahadi, always ready to offer his services, chimed in. "I can dispatch my laborers to assist you right away."
Kovik, however, raised a cautioning hand. "Let's hold off on that for now. I'll get back to you once I’m sure of the location’s defensibility."
Meanwhile, Darbakh's attention was focused on the infernal puzzle box once more. As he began manipulating it, a collective unease washed over the group, the memory of the fiends trapped inside fresh in their minds.
Mahadi, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, interjected, "Perhaps it's time to leave before Darbakh decides to release those...unpleasant guests."
Darbakh assured him with a hint of wryness, "You're all perfectly safe, thanks to the contract."
Mahadi, not willing to take any chances, shook his head adamantly. "I'd rather not see Karzoth face-to-face. I'll be on my way."
The rest of the group nodded in agreement, no one eager to face the wrath of the imprisoned monsters. The pact was made, but the less they had to deal with its fiendish signatories, the better.
The tent gradually emptied as one by one, the various parties made their exits. Mahadi, flanked by his loyal halfling porters, nodded politely to Darbakh before departing. The lure of the Emporium called him back to his realm of deals and bargains.
Kovik, their enigmatic demeanor undiminished, rose from their cushion and strode off purposefully. Their warband awaited, and decisions needed to be made.
Ramona, Five, Maisa, and Ulthian left as a group, their animated chatter and relieved expressions filling the air as they discussed their next steps. They headed back toward the cave, eager to share the good news with the refugees.
Amidst these departures, only Darbakh remained, seated with an air of satisfaction. Pendor fluttered down and perched on a chair next to him. Together, they watched the last of their guests vanish into the Avernus wasteland.
Darbakh's eyes bore into the infernal puzzle box, an object that had haunted him for the better part of his life. It had been fifteen long years, and this accursed artifact had dominated his existence. A perpetual curse, it clung to him like a shadow, whispering sinister promises whenever he tried to sleep. At first, he despised the box, but with time, he'd grown accustomed to its malevolence, learning to live alongside it like one learns to manage a chronic illness.
Now, as he stared at the puzzle box, perched on the cusp of freedom from its clutches, Darbakh couldn't help but feel a mixture of disbelief and hope. He had found a way to rid himself of this relentless torment. The prospect was almost surreal.
He turned to Pendor, who was seemingly aware of the gravity of the moment. "You know, Pendor," Darbakh began, his voice low and contemplative, "for all these years, this damn box has ruled my life. A curse I couldn't rid myself of. Those two monsters inside...they've never stopped whispering. They interrupt my sleep, promising things I know I can’t ever have. And every time I tried to get rid of that box, it would be waiting for me in the corner of my vision, as if it hadn’t ever moved."
"I've grown to hate it," Darbakh continued, his gaze never leaving the box, "but also to accept it, in a strange way. But now...now that I've found a way to break free..." His voice trailed off as he contemplated the life awaiting him beyond the box's malevolent influence.
“Do not to linger, Darbakh; don’t allow the two imprisoned creatures within to exert their influence. Release them conditionally, and move on,” Pendor said. “Don’t be trapped in a bubble just because change is uncomfortable.”
Darbakh nodded in agreement, acknowledging his companion's wisdom. He took a deep breath, his fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over the infernal puzzle box. He muttered, "Here goes nothing," and then, with a determined press, activated the mechanism for a conditional release of Malgog.
The air seemed to shimmer with an eerie energy, and the puzzle box emitted a faint, otherworldly hum. Slowly, the box's lid creaked open, revealing a swirling vortex of crimson and black. From within, a monstrous form began to emerge.
Malgog stepped out from the puzzle box, his imposing figure casting a long shadow on the ashy ground. He stood tall, his crimson skin gleaming under the oppressive Avernus sky. With a sense of relief that transcended his infernal features, Malgog raised his clawed hands toward the horrific, blood-red skies.
"Thank you," Malgog's voice rumbled, a strange mixture of gratitude and malevolence. He turned to Darbakh, his eyes filled with an unsettling blend of emotions, and said, "For seeing reason."
It was an oddly civil exchange between a devil and a mortal, devoid of any parting words. After all, they had been bound by a curse for fifteen years, and now, finally free, Malgog wasted no time. With a powerful leap, his leathery wings unfurled, and he took to the skies, searching for a passage that would lead him out of Avernus and down to yet another wretched level of Hell.
Pendor chimed in, "That was strangely anti-climactic."
Darbakh couldn't help but nod in agreement, his eyes fixed on the departing form of Malgog. It was indeed a surprisingly calm departure for a creature of such infernal power who’d been imprisoned for so long. With a resigned sigh, the Duergar decided it was time to complete the final act of this ordeal.
Turning his attention back to the puzzle box, Darbakh pressed the button once more, initiating the conditional release of Karzoth. The box shuddered, and the lid slowly opened, revealing the simmering whirlpool of fiery essence within.
Karzoth, the malevolent efreeti, emerged from the box, but his entrance was markedly different from before. Instead of anger and demands, he knelt before Darbakh, his towering figure bowing in submission. The flames that danced across his fiery form were now subdued, flickering with a subdued intensity.
In a voice that carried the weight of his realization, Karzoth confessed, "You... you got the better of me."
It was a moment of vulnerability for the once-tyrannical efreeti, acknowledging defeat in the face of a mortal who had outwitted him. Darbakh couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief and triumph as he gazed up at the subdued genie.
Darbakh nodded at Karzoth's admission of defeat. "It doesn't matter now," he replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion.
Karzoth, freed from the confinements of the puzzle box, seemed more resigned than resentful. “Now I can return to my dominion…outside your plane, of course.” He stretched his fiery limbs and commented, "I need to find that no-good Genasi grandson of mine."
Before parting ways, the efreeti turned to Darbakh and offered a final piece of advice, his tone surprisingly earnest. "Listen well, mortal. In the infernal dance of Avernus, never forget that trust is a fragile ember in this plane of treachery. Beware the ire of Mahadi."
Darbakh raised a curious eyebrow. “You were literally threatening me just moments ago. What you’re saying about Mahadi also applies to you.”
"You might think of both me and Mahadi as outsiders, mortal, but we are not the same," Karzoth remarked, his fiery eyes fixated on Darbakh. "All three of us are outsiders to each other, true, but Mahadi is different. I am an efreeti, a genie of an elemental plane. My desires, though they may seem tyrannical, are simple, and they are rooted in the fires of my realm. A genie desires freedom above all else, and I only threatened you because you stood in the way of that; now that I’m free, I have no qualms with you. My temper wanes as quickly as it waxes."
He paused for a moment, allowing the weight of his words to settle in. "Mahadi, on the other hand, is a fiend. His desires are complex, convoluted, and always at odds with mortals. You would do well to remember, Darbakh, that any fiend you deal with, unlike an elemental like me, wishes to do you harm intentionally rather than incidentally."
With those parting words, Karzoth's fiery form gradually dissipated into the tumultuous winds of the Astral Plane, leaving Darbakh alone to contemplate the wisdom and warning of the efreeti.
Darbakh stood there for a while, the weight of Karzoth's words sinking in. With the two outsiders released, the infernal puzzle box finally disintegrated, as if acknowledging its purpose had been fulfilled. It was as if a boulder had been lifted from Darbakh's shoulders, and he exhaled deeply, feeling true relief for the first time since he and the refugees had fallen into Hell.
Without another word, he turned away from the now-empty tent, leaving behind the remnants of their negotiations. As he walked away, the tent stood silently against the infernal winds that blew over the dusty plains of Avernus, a testament to the momentous agreements struck within its confines, and the newfound hope that had been kindled amid the harshest of realms.
Yet another story to entertain myself - and you, hopefully. This takes place between Ascent into Avernus and Baldur’s Gate 3. It goes without saying that spoilers for the former will be implied through dialogue in a few places. Also a disclaimer for violence typical of the setting.
Darbakh's footsteps echoed softly on the cobblestone streets as he emerged from his flat. The morning sun cast a warm glow over the narrow alleys of the neighborhood, a quiet oasis amid the bustling city of Elturel. The Duergar grunted as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his stone grey features drawn into a scowl that seemed as natural as the air he breathed.
Just as he was about to set off with a huff, a familiar voice cut through the early morning calm. "Darbakh! Hold on a minute!" called Ramona, his human neighbor. Darbakh's grumpy expression deepened, but he paused, knowing that once Ramona had her sights on him, escape was futile.
Ramona, a middle-aged woman with a determined stride, approached with a warm smile that contrasted Darbakh's mood. "Morning, Darbakh! I've got someone I want you to meet." She motioned to a figure trailing behind her, and Darbakh's eyes met the gaze of a half-elf man.
Darbakh offered a curt nod, not one for pleasantries. "Uncle Ulthian," Ramona began, "this is Darbakh, my neighbor. And Darbakh, this is my uncle Ulthian. He just arrived in Elturel and is looking for work."
Ulthian, a half-elf with a weathered yet amiable expression, extended a hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Darbakh. Heard this city's got more than its fair share of stories."
Darbakh grunted again, a gesture that could be interpreted as acknowledgment. He was accustomed to his solitary routine, his interactions limited to the necessities. This was his neighborhood—his patch of normalcy—where the daily rhythms were as familiar as the stones beneath his feet.
Ramona's cheerful demeanor didn't waver as she approached Darbakh once more, her eyes carrying an unspoken request. "Darbakh, I hope I'm not bothering you again, but I was wondering if you might help my uncle find some work in the city."
Darbakh met Ramona's gaze with a raised eyebrow, the question clear in his expression.
"Ulthian's skilled with his hands," Ramona continued, her voice gentle yet persistent. "He's a craftsman, like you. He's looking for a way to make a living here."
Ulthian shifted slightly, a faint flush coloring his cheeks. "Ramona, you needn't trouble your neighbor on my behalf. I can find my own path."
Ramona, however, wasn't one to take no for an answer. "Nonsense, Uncle. Darbakh works at a smithy. He's got connections and knows the ins and outs of crafting. I'm sure he can help."
Darbakh's gaze lingered on Ulthian for a moment before he spoke, his words clipped. "Smithy's specialized work. Not everyone's cut out for it."
Ulthian nodded, a mixture of appreciation and understanding in his gaze. "Of course, I understand. I wouldn't want to impose."
Ramona's polite smile remained unwavering. "Darbakh, I know you're not the chattiest person, but you've got a heart of gold somewhere in there. And I believe Ulthian would be a valuable addition to any team."
Darbakh grumbled, seemingly more to himself than anyone else. "If he's got skill, he can try his luck at the Dragon's Forge."
Ulthian's eyes brightened with gratitude. "Thank you, Darbakh. I'll look into it."
Ramona's smile broadened. "See? That wasn't so difficult, was it?"
Darbakh's answer was a noncommittal grunt, but a glimmer of something resembling amusement danced in his eyes. Ulthian chuckled softly, a hint of embarrassment in his tone. "Thank you, Ramona. I appreciate your—"
"Stubbornness?" Ramona interjected playfully.
"Optimism," Ulthian corrected with a wry grin.
As Ramona and Ulthian continued their conversation, the tranquil morning air was interrupted by the creaking of a window being pushed open. Darbakh's eyebrows furrowed as he glanced upward, his gaze settling on a woman leaning out from the window two floors above. She had a presence that seemed to demand attention, her long dark hair and Calimshan features catching the early sunlight.
"Ramona!" the woman called, her voice carrying down to the street. "Is this the uncle you were telling me about?"
Ramona's laughter rang out, carrying a touch of familiarity. "Maisa, you're up early! Yes, this is Ulthian."
Ulthian offered a wave in Maisa's direction, his smile easy and welcoming. "Pleasure to meet you."
Darbakh seized the opportunity to try and disentangle himself from the conversation. "I should be—"
Maisa's laughter cut him off, rich and full of amusement. "Oh, come now, Darbakh. Don't be in such a hurry to escape us."
Ulthian glanced at Darbakh with a hint of sympathy, likely recognizing the duergar's discomfort. "Apologies if we're keeping you from something important."
Darbakh's lips twitched in what might have been a wry smile. "Just starting the day."
Maisa leaned further out of the window, her gaze assessing Darbakh with a knowing glint. "Starting the day with a scowl, I see. You're in good company, my friend."
Ulthian chuckled, seemingly amused by the exchange. "And here I thought I was the new face in town."
Ramona chimed in, her tone light. "Maisa's been a fixture here for years. She's our neighborhood's unofficial guardian."
Darbakh's sigh was a mix of resignation and exasperation. "If you'll all excuse me—"
Maisa's voice carried a note of mischief. "Oh, don't be so hasty, Darbakh. You haven't even met all your neighbors yet."
Maisa's words flowed effortlessly, her voice carrying the assurance of someone well-acquainted with the ebb and flow of the neighborhood. "You'll find work here, Ulthian. Elturel is a friendly and peaceful city. Opportunities abound for those with skills and determination."
Ulthian's smile was appreciative as he nodded, his gaze lingering on the bustling streets below. "I'm grateful for your confidence."
Unbeknownst to them, Darbakh had taken advantage of the conversation's momentum, his footsteps echoing faintly as he retreated down the street. The camaraderie was foreign to him, a touch too overwhelming for his liking. With a sigh, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his worn leather jacket. His gaze swept over the streets, the buildings, and the faces of those going about their day. The tranquility of Elturel, the supposed friendliness and peace, seemed to resonate with the city's residents. But for Darbakh, who had grown accustomed to solitude and the rough edges of life, the sentiment seemed foreign.
"Peaceful my ass," he muttered under his breath, the words a gruff reminder of his own skepticism.
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Darbakh - Duergar troublemaker [Pic 1] [Pic 2] [Story 1] [Story 2]
Quorian - half-elf watcher
PM me the word ‘tomato’
One series of unfortunate events later…
In a land devoid of light and life, where the concept of time held no meaning, the desolation of Avernus stretched endlessly. Barren, rocky ground extended as far as the eye could see, marred by the scattered remnants of bones and corpses, silent testament to the countless souls who had met their fate in this forsaken realm.
The sky above was an eternal crimson, its hue never shifting, never yielding to a day-night cycle or the passage of seasons. The air was still, suffocatingly still, save for the occasional hot wind that swept across the wasteland like an unwelcome breath, offering no respite from the relentless heat.
Vegetation was sparse and twisted, struggling to eke out an existence in this inhospitable landscape. What passed for life in Avernus was a grim reflection of existence itself—tenacious, resilient, yet marred by a sense of melancholy.
Amid the quiet desolation, the wind whispered tales of despair, each gust carrying with it the echoes of long-forgotten hopes and dreams. This was a realm where souls were stripped bare, their regrets and sorrows etched into the very fabric of the land.
As the wind subsided, the silence returned, a heavy curtain that enveloped everything in a shroud of solitude. Here, amidst the remains of lives once lived, the weight of the land's somber fatigue bore down, casting a pall over everything it touched. And so, Avernus stood, a realm of isolation and quiet depression, its mournful reality echoing in every barren crevice and empty expanse.
In the midst of the desolate emptiness, a faint symphony of sound pierced the silence—a cacophony of panting breaths, gasping, and the desperate rhythm of feet against rocky terrain. As the noise drew closer, the desperation of life battling the oppressive stillness became unmistakable.
Emerging over the barren horizon, figures burst into view, running with a frantic urgency across the unforgiving wasteland. Leading the charge was a gnoll, its matted fur soaked in sweat and grime, its usual cackling replaced by short, panicked wheezes. The terror etched onto its hyena-like features was undeniable as it sprinted as if fleeing from death itself.
But death was indeed in pursuit, a relentless terror that hunted them both. An injured and bleeding leaping demon of Yeenoghu—a barlgura—trailed behind the gnoll. Its once-fierce eyes were now dulled by agony, and a trail of ichor marked its path across the desolate terrain.
Despite its demonic might, the barlgura moved with a limping desperation, no longer the embodiment of fear but rather a creature consumed by it. With every limping stride, it distanced itself from the gnoll, the source of its panic revealed in the gruesome wounds it bore.
The gnoll and the barlgura, once allies, now shared the same frantic goal—to escape the terror that pursued them. As they raced side by side, the haunting cries of the chase reverberated through the air, a chilling reminder of the horrors that Avernus held in its relentless grip. The gnoll and the barlgura vanished from sight, the gnoll's panicked shout to the leaping demon to wait echoing momentarily before being swallowed by the emptiness. As their figures faded, a new sound emerged from the void—the even, rhythmic clang of boots striking rocky ground.
Without a word, Darbakh emerged into view, passing over the same path that the gnoll and demon had just traversed. His steps were relentless, unwavering, the full weight of his heavy armor doing little to slow his pace. The maul he carried, its brutal surface marred by the grotesque residue of demon ichor, was a testament to the trials he had already endured.
The relentless rhythm of his march matched the steady beat of his heart, a heart that seemed unaffected by fatigue or despair. Darbakh's face was a mask of determination, his features set in a grim expression that mirrored the harsh reality of his surroundings.
As he pursued the path of the gnoll and the barlgura, his focus remained unswerving. There were no cries of exertion, no display of weariness—only the relentless clanging of boots on the rocky ground. Darbakh was a figure of unyielding purpose, his pursuit driven by something deep within him, something that burned hotter than the unending sun of Avernus. The landscape offered no respite, no kindness, and yet Darbakh's steps remained unbroken. His presence was a solitary echo, the embodiment of a will that refused to falter. As he advanced, his form cast a stark silhouette against the crimson sky, a solitary figure carving his own path through the desolation.
The gnoll and the barlgura were gone from sight, their fleeting figures a memory that now seemed distant. But Darbakh's pursuit was relentless, a testament to his unyielding spirit and the grim resolve that carried him forward. The barlgura's frenzied flight came to an abrupt halt as its leg snapped with a sickening crack, the limb no longer sturdy enough to support the demon’s body weight. It crumpled to the rocky ground, a pained howl echoing through the barren landscape. Beside it, the gnoll's strength finally abandoned it, and it collapsed beside the demon, its ragged gasps mingling with the anguished cries of the wounded creature.
Darbakh's maul was a lethal extension of his will, its surface slick with the same demon ichor that marked their tormentors. He moved without haste, without the need to run, and his ironclad form exhibited no signs of fatigue. His presence was as unyielding as the desolate land itself. As he closed in, the barlgura turned its wounded gaze towards the advancing duergar. Its growl was a mixture of defiance and pain, its broken body grounding it in its futile struggle.
The gnoll's trembling body lay beside the demon, its breaths shallow and ragged. With a final exertion of energy, it lifted its head and directed its fury towards the barlgura. "You—!" The gnoll's voice was a strained rasp, "You were supposed to protect me! It's your job to defend me!"
The barlgura's growls were tinged with desperation, its defiance meeting its inevitable end. Grounded by injury, it was a creature trapped in its own demise, its lifeblood mingling with the ichor-stained earth. As it turned its broken form towards Darbakh, a final surge of desperation fueled its actions. With a swipe of its massive paw, it lunged at the approaching duergar, claws outstretched. But Darbakh's reflexes were honed, his movements as swift as they were precise. His maul came down with a resounding impact, a brutal counter that met the barlgura's attack head-on. The creature's paw was smashed, its agonized cry cut short by the unrelenting force of Darbakh's blow.
Before the barlgura could react, Darbakh followed through with a decisive thrust of his maul. The weapon's head struck the demon's skull with a sickening crunch, and the barlgura collapsed to the rocky ground. Its body convulsed, paralyzed and twitching, a grotesque mimicry of life.
Beside the fallen demon, the gnoll's panic escalated into hysteria. With trembling limbs, it attempted to flee, its frenzied steps an attempt to escape the horror that unfolded before it. But Darbakh's resolve was as unyielding as ever, and with a swift, practiced motion, he hurled a dagger that sliced through the air. The dagger found its mark, striking the gnoll's leg with precision. A cry of pain tore from the gnoll's throat as its leg buckled beneath it, sending it tumbling to the ground. Its panicked escape was abruptly halted, and it lay there, a portrait of desperation and agony.
The gnoll's pleas for mercy echoed through the desolate expanse, a desperate refrain that fell on unyielding ears. Darbakh's gaze was unwavering, his features a mask of cold determination as he regarded the pitiable creature before him. The gnoll's cries ebbed and flowed, a desperate symphony of fear and desperation.
"Please," the gnoll's voice trembled, its tone laced with desperation. "I-I'll do anything, just spare me."
Darbakh's silence persisted, his gaze unflinching as the gnoll continued to beg for its life, each plea a futile attempt to sway the duergar's resolve.
"Please, have mercy," the gnoll's voice cracked, the weight of its terror and anguish palpable in every word.
But Darbakh's response was as unyielding as his gaze. "Give me your soul coins," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion.
The gnoll's protests were immediate, its voice a mixture of complaint and despair. "You don't understand! I won't survive without them!"
Again, Darbakh's demand remained unchanged, his voice cutting through the gnoll's whines. "Your soul coins. Now."
The gnoll's grip on the precious coins tightened, its reluctance clear. "I won't last long without them," it whined, the words a futile plea.
But with a resigned sigh, the gnoll eventually relinquished its grip on the coins, its hands trembling as it placed them into Darbakh's awaiting palm. Without a word, he grasped the gnoll's leg and, with a swift, practiced motion, removed the dagger that had been embedded there.
The gnoll's cry of pain echoed through the desolate air, a final note of suffering that reverberated amidst the emptiness. And as Darbakh turned away, the fate of the gnoll remained uncertain, shrouded in the shadows of Avernus's relentless grasp.
—
Time passed like a river, and the crimson sky of Avernus remained unchanging. In the distance, the jagged silhouettes of rocky hills broke the monotony of the landscape. And amidst these barren formations, a cave entrance yawned, a darkened maw in the midst of desolation.
As Darbakh drew closer, the hobgoblin scouts stationed among the rocks waved him onward. Their worn and battered armor spoke of battles fought, and their gazes held the weight of exhaustion mingled with resilience. With a nod of acknowledgment, Darbakh continued his march, his steps unwavering, his form a silent testament to his journey.
Entering the cave, the air shifted from the unrelenting heat of the outside to a slightly cooler, yet still unwelcoming, embrace. The rocky walls seemed to close in, their starkness creating an oppressive ambiance that echoed the harshness of Avernus itself.
Within the cave's confines, the scene was a tableau of survival. Mortal refugees huddled together, their faces bearing the marks of hardship and fear. These were souls who had sought sanctuary in the cave's relative shelter, individuals from various races and backgrounds, all united by the shared struggle for survival in the Nine Hells. Their gazes turned towards Darbakh as he entered, a mixture of curiosity and cautious hope reflected in their eyes. A collection of souls bound by circumstances beyond their control, the refugees had become a fragile community, one that transcended the divisions of race and origin.
In their midst, hobgoblins worked alongside humans, elves alongside gnomes. The very fabric of this makeshift refuge was woven from the threads of necessity, the need to stand together against the relentless trials that Avernus presented.
Amidst the desolation of the Nine Hells, the cave became a sanctuary of sorts—a haven where the boundaries of race and heritage faded against the backdrop of survival. As Darbakh's presence merged with the shadows, his ironclad form a silent guardian, he became a part of this intricate tapestry, a symbol of the resilience that echoed in every heartbeat of those who sought refuge within its depths.
The cave's cool embrace enveloped Darbakh as he retreated to the small hollow he had carved out for himself. Here, amidst the rough-hewn walls, he set down his maul and helmet, the heavy weight of his armor releasing its grip on his form. The air seemed to hold a melancholic weight, a quiet reminder of the struggles that were etched into every corner of the Nine Hells.
Navigating the space was a careful dance, a step over prone bodies and weary souls that dotted the floor. Mortals, worn and battered, lay in various states of fatigue, injury, and despair. Their faces spoke of untold stories, their eyes carrying the weight of a journey that had brought them to this desolate place.
In the midst of the refugees, Darbakh found Ramona—a familiar face in a sea of uncertainty. Her skilled hands were gentle as they tended to a sickly gnome, the suffering etched into the gnome's features mirrored by the weariness that marked Ramona's own expression.
As Darbakh approached, his footsteps were soft, a presence that melded with the quietude of the cave. In the corner near Ramona's makeshift healing station, he carefully placed the soul coins he had collected. A pile of glinting currency, a reflection of the trials endured and the sacrifices made.
Ramona's gaze met his tiredly, her voice carrying a weariness that mirrored the collective exhaustion of those who sought refuge in the cave. "You know we can't eat soul coins," she said, her tone a mixture of gentle resignation and muted frustration.
"You could drain the soul within the coin," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with weariness, "use its essence to heal the gnome."
Ramona's reaction was immediate, her gaze turning to him with a mixture of disbelief and unease. "Darbakh," her voice held a note of reproach, "you've changed since we've been here. Avernus has affected you."
Darbakh's retort was swift, his words a reminder of a truth he had long held. "I've always been like this," he countered, his tone firm, unyielding.
The exchange carried a weight that went beyond the immediate conversation, a glimpse into the facets of their characters that had been honed by the harshness of their surroundings. In the midst of Avernus, even the most fundamental aspects of their identities had been reshaped, sculpted by a realm that demanded their survival at any cost.
A brief pause followed, a quiet interlude in which their gazes held, each trying to make sense of the other's perspective. Then, the conversation shifted, a new topic rising to the surface.
"But…you’re right. We Do need food," Darbakh's voice was a pragmatic acknowledgment of a stark reality. "Without sustenance, we won't last long."
Ramona's expression tightened, a shadow of concern crossing her features. "I know," she replied, the weariness in her voice mirrored by the countless others who shared their plight. “Half the health problems here would be solved by proper nutrition.”
And then, as if to offer a sliver of hope amidst the grim reality, Ramona shared the news that the hobgoblins had brought. "The hobgoblins confirmed it, by the way," she said, her voice carrying a mix of relief and resignation. "Elturel ascended, left Avernus behind. But they left us here."
The words carried a weight that was impossible to ignore—a revelation that both offered a glimmer of hope and underscored the harsh truth that they had been left to fend for themselves in the Nine Hells.
Ramona's voice held a somber note as she repeated the news, her words a reminder of the cruel fate that had befallen them. But as her voice trailed off, Darbakh remained silent, his gaze fixed upon the cave floor. The weight of the revelation hung heavily in the air, a reality that cast its shadow over their already burdened souls.
"I'll forage after I've taken a nap," Darbakh's voice broke the silence, the words a practical response to the harsh reality that governed their existence. With a nod, he turned away, his heavy steps leading him towards the hollow he had carved out for himself within the cave's rocky walls.
Ramona watched him go, her gaze following his form as he disappeared into the shadows. The silence persisted, a tangible presence that seemed to envelop the cave and all within it. As the minutes ticked by, the quiet of the cave became a reflection of the collective despondency that had settled over its inhabitants.
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Darbakh - Duergar troublemaker [Pic 1] [Pic 2] [Story 1] [Story 2]
Quorian - half-elf watcher
PM me the word ‘tomato’
Again, good work - except for the large space formatting between paragraphs, especially if it's only one line of text. - Might be just me, but it's somehow disrupting the flow when reading.
It’s not just you. I think I’ve fixed the spacing issue, but let’s see how it looks once I hit the post button.
A landscape marred by crags and gullies that bore the scars of battles fought and lost. Here, amid the tumultuous remnants of war, silence reigned as Darbakh and two hobgoblins ventured forward. The air was heavy with the acrid stench of smoldering detritus and the faint, sickly-sweet tang of demon ichor.
The crags jutted like broken bones from the earth, their rugged forms a testament to the merciless violence that had shaped this realm. Pools of ichor gleamed like sinister jewels, their luminescent hues a stark contrast to the ashen landscape that stretched beyond. The war machine that lay smoldering in the distance seemed to embody the echoes of a battle that had long since faded, its charred remnants bearing witness to the merciless march of time.
Amid this desolation, the trio moved forward in silence. Darbakh's heavy footsteps echoed in the stillness, a resounding reminder of their presence amidst the barren landscape. The two hobgoblins moved with an air of vigilance, their movements practiced and cautious as they navigated the treacherous terrain.
Scouring the landscape of crags and gullies, their movements were methodical and practiced. Amongst the war detritus and pools of ichor, they unearthed remnants of the past—the broken fragments of weapons, scorched armor, and the haunting echoes of battles that had raged and subsided.
Amidst the wreckage, a figure lay sprawled—a surviving human cultist of Yeenoghu, his body battered and dehydrated. Alive, yet barely so, the cultist's eyes held a hollow, haunted look. Darbakh's gaze fell upon the figure, a glint of intent within his eyes.
With a brusque efficiency, Darbakh robbed the prone cultist of every item of value, his actions swift and unapologetic. The hobgoblins watched in silence, their expressions unreadable, a testament to the pragmatism that governed their actions.
One of the hobgoblins dared to break the silence, his voice carrying a note of disapproval. "Leaving him alive is cruelty which serves no purpose," the hobgoblin remarked, his gaze directed at the cultist.
Darbakh's response was as curt as it was dismissive. "Do it yourself if you feel so inclined," he retorted, his tone holding a touch of irritation.
The duergar’s gaze remained steady, unwavering, a challenge that hung between them. And then, without further words, the hobgoblin’s spear struck true, ending the cultist's suffering with a swift and merciful blow.
The silence returned, a palpable presence that underscored the gravity of their actions. Darbakh and the hobgoblin resumed their scavenging, each movement a testament to the bleak reality that governed their existence. Amidst their industry, the backdrop of dripping caught Darbakh's attention. In Avernus, a land bereft of comfort, the promise of water held an allure that was impossible to ignore. At the end of a gully, he stood, his gaze scanning the terrain ahead.
But then, a pause—a subtle shift in the air that set his instincts on edge. The silence seemed to stretch unnaturally, the quietude too complete, as if the very land held its breath. Darbakh's grip on his maul tightened, a subtle indication of the tension that coiled within him.
And then, a presence revealed itself—a figure hidden behind a rock, concealed from sight but not from Darbakh's watchful gaze. The being's form was shrouded, a mixture of shadow and uncertainty. But even as Darbakh's maul remained poised, ready to strike, a voice pierced the silence—a voice that reached him not through the air, but through the unspoken connection of telepathy.
“Spare me, child of Laduguer,” the voice echoed in his mind. “Spare me, please, for I’ve done you no wrong.”
"Begging for one's life has become a common sound in this accursed land," Darbakh's voice broke the silence, a low rumble that held a tinge of cynicism.
Within the confines of their telepathic exchange, the being's plea echoed—an intelligent plea that held a note of desperation. The symphony of vulnerability reverberated across their thoughts, a refrain that spoke to the fragile dance of survival in Avernus.
“I’ve used the last of my magic to shield this corner from outside eyes and ears…this protection extends to you too, duergar. Please listen to me in return for my courtesy.”
Darbakh stood poised, his maul held in readiness as he watched the concealed figure behind the rock. “I asked nothing of you, thus I owe you nothing for a gift freely given,” he replied callously.
Through the silent channels of telepathy, the being's voice resounded, articulate and measured. It spoke with a precision that defied the harshness of Avernus. “I humbly request a parley with you. Please, grant me moments to explain my offer. My lifeblood spills from me as we speak.”
The cynicism within Darbakh simmered, a skepticism that lingered beneath the surface of his steady gaze.
"Begging takes many forms," Darbakh's response was a low rumble, a voice that held an edge of challenge. "But I'm intrigued. What kind of deal would an accursed creature like you offer?"
“The utmost of my ability, child of Laduguer. I beg of you with a sense of urgency, for my time is short. I shan’t deny you a thing which is within my power.”
The being's telepathic voice conveyed its words, its intent—words that held promises that Darbakh wasn't inclined to believe. Yet, his pragmatism forced him to consider the possibilities. He spoke aloud, his voice carrying a stark pragmatism. "You think me a fool to believe a devil? Provide me with food and water, free of charge or exchange, before I even consider parley."
A bottle that rolled out from behind the rock, coming to a stop at Darbakh's feet. “This is all I have, and I now bestow it upon you. Distilled water from the prime material plane, taken from mortals not unlike yourself.”
He eyed the bottle with caution, his grip on his maul unwavering. The being's claim—that the water was safe to drink—raised an unspoken question. "Taken from mortals, you say?" he retorted, a skeptical edge in his voice.
The being's telepathic response was swift, an assertion of its claim. "Indeed. Mortals whose lives had already been claimed by the wretchedness of this realm. Their souls have long departed."
Without a word, Darbakh picked up the bottle and stowed it within his pack. "I'll be the judge of its safety," he grumbled, his tone holding a note of distrust.
The being's desperation was palpable—a plea that echoed through the silence. It begged for a chance, a reprieve, and in its words, Darbakh could discern the truth of its situation. "If you know me for what I am—an infernal being—then you also know that I can die a permanent death upon this cursed land," it implored, the urgency in its voice a stark contrast to the desolate surroundings.
Darbakh's voice cut through the stillness, a low rumble that carried across the barren landscape. "Stand up. Reveal yourself. If you wish to parley, do so face-to-face."
“Swear to your honor as one of the duergar, as a being of law, that you won’t strike me down.”
"I swear on my honor that I will not strike you down on sight, should you reveal yourself," his voice echoed across the crags and gullies, a vow that held the potential to shift the course of their interaction.
And then, the being emerged—a pitiful figure that crawled from behind the rock, a silhouette of wretchedness that bore the scars of torment and suffering. Darbakh's gaze bore into the being, his people's psionic resistance an unassailable barrier against illusions or disguises. What he saw wasn’t a trick.
The sight that met his eyes was one of tragedy—a blue abishai, a once-proud devil of Avernus, now reduced to a limping heap of scales and suffering. Its wings, once a symbol of its power, were clipped, its form mutilated by cruel hands. The abishai's right arm was reduce to an enflamed stump, its tail truncated—a testament to the cruelties it had endured. Blindness veiled its gaze, a once-piercing regard that had been extinguished.
The abishai leaned heavily on a thorny stick, a crutch that supported its wounded form. One leg bore the cruel mark of an impaling arrow, the pain evident in the way it held itself. Blood seeped from its wounds, a testament to its brokenness—a being teetering on the edge of permanence in a realm defined by torment.
Darbakh's gaze remained fixed upon the abishai, a mask of grim resolve replacing any inkling of pity. His eyes bore into the wretched form before him, his voice laced with an impatient demand. "Speak. You're near death's embrace, and I have no time for games. What can you offer me?"
The abishai's voice emerged, a weary echo that held the weight of its dire circumstance. "I am Pendor," it introduced itself, a name that seemed to hang in the air like a lament.
Darbakh's response was swift, his words delivered with a merciless bluntness. "I won't pity a fiend."
Pendor's retort was tinged with sorrow, a response that carried the echoes of an existence steeped in suffering. "Are your people—the Duergar—so different from the fiends you despise?"
The words hung in the air, a challenge that sought to peel back the layers of Darbakh's perspective. But he met it with a stern resolve, a hardness that seemed etched into his very being. "Don't assume anything about me," his voice was cold, a rebuke that cut through the melancholic undertones of the exchange. "Just get on with your story."
Pendor's voice emerged, a warped reflection of its tortured form. The words bore the weight of its misery as it began to weave its tale—an account that echoed with the cadence of suffering.
"I was tasked by Tiamat," Pendor's voice was a discordant symphony, each note marked by a tinge of anguish. "To guard a shrine in her honor—a shrine that stood as a testament to her dominion over these accursed realms."
The abishai's words held a resonance, a connection to a power far beyond their own comprehension. It spoke of a city—an unnamed city, though the truth lay veiled beneath its words. As the city was pulled into the fiery abyss of Avernus, the very fabric of reality seemed to tremble. With the city's descent came an escalation of demonic assaults—an unholy tide that sought to claim all that lay within its reach.
Pendor's words trembled with the weight of its own demise—a tale of brutal torment that had brought it to the brink of destruction. "As the city fell, so did I—pulled to the very ground, my form torn asunder by the relentless forces that define Avernus."
Darbakh's query was terse, a question that cut through the dissonance of Pendor's story. "Dretches, was it?"
But Pendor's response was a stark denial, a revelation that shattered the assumptions of the duergar. "No. It was the humans—the cultists of Yeenoghu. They were more savage than even the gnolls or the demons themselves."
For the first time in their conversation, Darbakh’s demeanor softened. “Aye. I’ve met few creatures as brutal and spiteful as humans.”
The gravity of the statement lingered, a chilling reminder of the horrors that lurked within the Nine Hells. As Pendor’s voice trembled with the weight of its impending doom, its words bore a lament that cut to the core of its existence. "I stand at the precipice of non-existence, having failed my Lady Tiamat. There is no recourse, no salvation—only the embrace of oblivion awaits me."
Darbakh's retort cut through the air, his voice a cold edge that bore the weight of his disdain. "Sounds like you got what you deserved."
The impact of Darbakh's words was palpable, an assault on the fragile threads of Pendor's dignity. The abishai's form quivered, its frailty juxtaposed against the tempest of emotions that churned within it. The air crackled with tension, and Pendor's voice emerged with a note of apoplectic offense. "You judge me without knowing my true plight," its words trembled, a bitter retort that carried the weight of its offense.
Darbakh's indifference held steadfast, his voice a stark counterpoint to Pendor's outrage. "You're a devil, aren't you? Probably dragged souls down into this hell."
But Pendor's denial was swift, its response a vehement protest against the accusations leveled upon it. "No, I—"
“Whatever. Go on, make your sales pitch.”
"Please, have mercy," its voice was laden with vulnerability, a plea that spoke of desperation as much as it did of hope. The abishai's gaze bore into Darbakh's, a plea that transcended the confines of their stark reality—a plea that sought the grace of compassion amidst the unrelenting cruelty of Avernus. “I offer you my soul in return.”
Pendor's offer hung in the air, a revelation that cut through the gloom with a note of bewilderment. Darbakh's confusion was palpable—a sentiment mirrored in his furrowed brow and narrowed gaze. "Your soul? Devils take the souls of mortals, not trade their own."
But Pendor's response carried a resonance of stark reality, a truth that defied the conventional understanding of their roles. "In this land, the rules are different. Should you meet your end in Avernus, your soul would journey to its rightful afterlife plane. My fate would be sealed—permanently dead."
Darbakh’s heavy eyebrows wiggled curiously. “So devils can be permanently killed? Good to know.”
The revelation hung between them, a chilling reminder of the abyss that awaited Pendor—a fate that now stood in stark contrast to the cycle of souls that defined Avernus. Pendor's voice carried a weight of desperation as it outlined its proposal, its words laced with a solemn commitment. "I can offer my own soul—the last vestiges of natural magic from my former life can bind my eternal essence to your service. You’ll be initiated into the beast master conclave."
Darbakh's response was abrupt, his words a stark contrast to the weight of the exchange. "That sounds dumb."
The offense that danced across Pendor's visage was palpable—a flicker of wounded pride that shimmered in its gaze. The abishai's voice emerged with a tremor, a note of hurt that cut through the air with a wounded edge. "Dumb? You dare to—"
“Besides, what does a devil have to do with…what is it, beast conclave? Nature stuff?”
Pendor's response emerged, a cascade of words that bore the weight of its revelation—a story that transcended the confines of their present reality. "A master of primal beasts isn't dumb," its voice was laced with a thread of fervent sincerity, a testament to the significance that underscored the honor it spoke of. "It's a great honor—one that carries the weight of ages and the echoes of power."
As the abishai's voice wove its tale, the truth of its existence unfolded—a narrative that spanned realms and dimensions, bridging the divide between dragon and fiend. "In mortal life, I served my lady Tiamat in a different form—a cleric of the nature domain. But death did not mark the end of my journey. Tiamat raised me from the ashes of mortality, transforming me into a blue abishai—a fiendish manifestation that carries the essence of my former self."
“So you were a cleric, then you were a devil?”
"Yes. My soul transitioned, but the core of who I am remained untouched, as is common to fiendish spirits borne of mortals with strong personalities. I am a testament to the fluidity of existence, the way one's essence can transcend the boundaries of form."
The abishai's tale was a tapestry woven with threads of power and fate—a story that now reached a crucial juncture, a crossroads that held the promise of redemption. "I offer you this bond—a pact that binds my essence to your service. My soul, my power, my experience—yours to command in primal form. In return, you will become a master of beasts, a shepherd to my essence. With your consent, I can be reformed once more—a second chance in the face of failure."
Pendor's words carried the weight of its plea, a fervent desire that sought the solace of redemption even as its own form teetered on the edge of dissolution. But amidst its eloquence, the abishai's voice was punctuated by moments of frailty—coughs that rent through the air, echoes of its fading vitality. The narrative seemed to dance on the edge of its own fragility, the tension of its confession interwoven with the somber reality of its condition.
Darbakh's response held the weight of indifference, his voice a tired sigh that seemed to underscore his disinterest. "If I say yes, are you going to stop bleeding all over the place and go fetch me some damn food?"
Pendor's visage quivered with a mixture of offense and solemnity—an intricate dance of emotions that played across the canvas of its form. The abishai's voice carried the weight of its wounded pride, a note of indignation that underscored its response. "You treat my oath with disrespect, but know that I am bound by my word. If you agree, I shall harness the last vestige of who I was in mortal life to cease this infernal bleeding, and I shall hunt for sustenance for you in my new form."
The scene hung in the balance, the pivotal moment of their exchange teetering between decision and uncertainty. Pendor's desperation was palpable, an echo of its fading vitality that resonated in the depths of its gaze—a plea that seemed to emanate from the very core of its existence. The gravity of its situation was etched across its form, a testament to the dire nature of its plight.
Amidst this tension, Darbakh's response emerged—a flippant declaration that seemed to ripple through the air with an air of detachment. "Sure, whatever."
And so, the moment passed—a pact forged amidst the desolation of Avernus, a bond that transcended the realms of mortal and fiend. Pendor's feeble hand released its grip on the thorny stick, its strength faltering as the abishai's form sank to the ground. The creature settled into a morose tableau, seated amidst the macabre pool of its own blood. Darbakh's cautious inquiry followed, a hint of wariness in his voice. "Do I have to sign anything?"
Pendor's response was swift, its voice carrying the weight of its dwindling strength. "No, this is a primal agreement, not an infernal one."
As the abishai's breath grew shallower, Darbakh's words carried a tinge of skepticism. "Doesn't make sense. Nature spirits don’t come from the lower planes."
Pendor's form seemed to quiver with the effort of maintaining coherence, the lines of its visage etched with exhaustion. The abishai was too spent to engage in verbal combat, its very existence teetering on the precipice of dissolution. It traced intricate runes in the air, each gesture crackling with an arc of electric energy. Words in the ancient Primordial language flowed from its lips, and comprehension dawned on Darbakh's features with a wince and a grunt.
"What… What are you doing?" Darbakh's voice bore a note of urgency, tinged with a growing sense of unease.
But Pendor's response was swift—a final act of sorcery that marked the culmination of its existence. Its form crumbled into ash, the last vestiges of its being dissipating into the air. And amidst this ethereal dissolution, its voice persisted—a plea that echoed through the void, a solemn request that lingered even as its form disintegrated. "Guard my new body during incubation."
The abishai's words resonated with a sense of mystery, a term left unexplained as its essence drained into the form of a sapphire egg—a precious vessel that bore the culmination of Pendor's sacrifice. Darbakh's gaze fell upon the egg with a greedy hunger, avarice mingling with curiosity. His response was terse, casual in its indifference.
"Cool."
No sooner had the scaly devil disintegrated than had the audial veil fallen from that corner of the ravine, and Darbakh’s voice could be heard again. One of the hobgoblins sought him out immediately. The goblinoid’s arrival was unassuming, its footsteps soft against the rocky ground as it approached Darbakh. It cast an inquisitive gaze upon him, a simple question in its eyes as it spoke. "What did you find?"
For a fleeting moment, Darbakh's eyes lingered on the sapphire egg nestled within his palm—a relic of power that held within it the culmination of Pendor's desperate sacrifice. Then, with a practiced nonchalance, he concealed the egg within his pocket. His response was casual, as if the moment held no greater weight than the trinket he claimed to have discovered. "Found a bottle of water."
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Darbakh - Duergar troublemaker [Pic 1] [Pic 2] [Story 1] [Story 2]
Quorian - half-elf watcher
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Under the somber hues of Avernus' crimson sky, a muted sense of camaraderie seemed to flicker within the small encampment that had taken root outside the cave. Ulthian's watchful presence crowned a rocky perch, his gaze sweeping the barren expanse as his thoughts danced between the unfamiliar faces below.
Amidst this quiet tableau, Ramona's hands moved with a quiet sense of purpose, her efforts concentrated on a makeshift cooking station. Distilled water from the bottle Darbakh had found bore the promise of nourishment, and as the water was transformed into a simmering stew, the aroma of meager sustenance mingled with the stagnant air.
Around the circle of refugees, wearied souls came together, their faces etched with a shared sense of fatigue. In subdued unity, they offered what help they could, a communal effort to ensure that the available nourishment was spread as evenly as possible. Their cooperation, born of necessity, lent a fragile touch of normalcy to their desperate situation.
Darbakh sat apart from the group, his figure hunched over as he carved shapes into the rocks that lay within his grasp. The flicker of a fire illuminated his work, casting fleeting shadows that danced upon the raw materials beneath his hands. The animal figures he created bore a rough elegance, simple yet filled with an innate charm.
As the stew bubbled and the firelight cast its gentle glow, the scene spoke of resilience—a quiet determination to find solace even amidst the desolation. The mood, though tinged with weariness and melancholy, carried a note of unity—a shared struggle that bound together disparate souls within the unforgiving embrace of Avernus.
As the stew was portioned out and shared among the hushed gathering, a soft-spoken conversation blossomed in one corner of the encampment. Maisa, her dark eyes reflecting a blend of fatigue and unwavering spirit, engaged Ramona in a momentary reprieve from their arduous existence.
Ramona's tired gaze met Maisa's as she accepted her bowl, a small smile tugging at her lips in response to Maisa's friendly banter. "Can't complain, dear. Just another day in this infernal landscape," she quipped, her voice carrying a touch of good-natured resignation.
Maisa's laughter, though punctuated by fits of coughing, held a resilience that couldn't be dampened by the harsh surroundings. "You've got that right, Ramona. At least the demons don't know how to make our tea, eh?" Her chuckles were laced with determination, a testament to her ability to find light even in the darkest of places.
The occasional cough punctuated their conversation, a reminder of the fragility of their bodies in this hostile environment. Yet, as Maisa's laughter rekindled after each bout of coughing, her spirit remained unbroken—a quiet rebellion against the trials they faced.
While the less martially-inclined among the Elturel survivors took their meal, Darbakh looked up to see the two hobgoblins beckoning him away from view of the others. He followed their gestures to Ulthian, who was beckoning all three of them from his perch.
Silent gestures passed between Darbakh and the hobgoblins as they descended from their respective vantage points. With stealth honed by necessity, they converged on the hill where the half-elf had kept watch, their presence masked from the rest of the encampment.
Ulthian's voice was a low murmur, just above the breeze that carried the scent of sulfur across Avernus' bleak landscape. "We've got company," he whispered, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the infernal machines appeared as specks against the fiery sky. "They've only just appeared, no more than a minute ago."
The duo of hobgoblins, seasoned by the trials of their existence, nodded in silent understanding. Darbakh's stern expression revealed no surprise—he was the epitome of vigilance. Together, they huddled on the hill, crouching in the midst of desolation.
As the approaching caravan grew more distinct, the distant thrum of its engines reverberated in the air, a cacophony that underscored the grim reality of their world. Infernal machines, both twisted and menacing, trundled across the barren terrain, casting long shadows over the ashen landscape.
Huddled together on the hill, the quartet exchanged hushed whispers as they strained to catch any glimpse of the approaching caravan. Shadows danced across their faces, cast by the infernal machines that gradually grew in size and clarity.
"Who do you reckon they might be?" Darbakh's gravelly voice punctuated the stillness, his eyes narrowed as he squinted at the emerging convoy. Their conversation was punctuated by the distant rumble of engines and the occasional clatter of metal.
Ulthian's brow furrowed, concern etched into his features. "This could be a war party," he voiced his worry, his gaze never wavering from the unfolding scene.
One of the hobgoblins shook its head, its voice barely more than a whisper. "Nah, not a war party. Look at them, their armor's patchwork and their weapons aren't heavy enough. These are probably scavengers or traders."
The other hobgoblin nodded in agreement. "Yeah, they might be hoping to salvage something valuable from the wreckage of the battles that happen around here."
Darbakh listened to their assessment, a mixture of suspicion and cautious optimism on his face. The infernal war machines continued to draw closer, their distinct shapes and features becoming more apparent.
As the caravan finally came to a halt in a circular formation, the details of their occupants began to emerge. Patched armor, mismatched weapons, and a lack of uniformity painted a picture of a group far removed from the disciplined ranks of a war party.
Ulthian's shoulders relaxed slightly, his worry shifting to something less dire. "You might be right," he conceded to the hobgoblins, his eyes never leaving the caravan. "Scavengers or traders, then. Though that doesn't necessarily mean they're harmless."
Amidst the uncertainty of the situation, their hushed conversation continued. The four figures huddled together, voices low as they weighed their options.
"We could wait for them to pass," Ulthian suggested, his gaze flickering between the war machines. "It might be safer."
One of the hobgoblins scratched its head, its brow furrowed in thought. "Or we could keep watching. See what they're up to, if they're a threat or not."
Before they could settle on a course of action, Darbakh's voice cut through the air, his tone gruff and resolute. "We'll approach them."
The others turned their attention to the duergar, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity. Ulthian tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied Darbakh. "Are you sure? It might be dangerous."
Darbakh's gaze met Ulthian's without hesitation. "We’re in Hell - literally. We'll either starve or die eventually. Might as well risk a bit of conflict to change that fate."
The half-elf and the hobgoblins exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between them. It was a stark reminder of the harsh reality they all faced in Avernus.
"Alright," one of the hobgoblins spoke up, nodding its head in Darbakh's direction. "What's the plan then? How do we approach?"
Darbakh's lips curled in a wry smile, the flickering light of determination in his eyes. "We approach with caution. Stick together. Don't let them surround us. If they're hostile, we get out."
His companions nodded in understanding, their resolve firm. With the plan set, they watched as the group of scavengers or traders continued their activity below. It was a calculated risk, a step into the unknown, but it was a risk that offered a glimmer of hope in the desolate wasteland of Avernus.
As the group deliberated on their approach, Darbakh's directive took shape. He turned to Ulthian and one of the hobgoblins, pointing to where they were perched on the hill. "Stay here, just in case things go wrong. If they're hostile, the refugees need a place to hide."
Ulthian nodded in agreement, his expression focused and serious. The hobgoblin beside him gave a quick salute, acknowledging the order without a word.
Leaving them to their vantage point, Darbakh cast a glance back toward the cave where the refugees were gathered. His gaze held a mix of determination and concern. "And don't tell the others about the caravan yet. No point in raising false hope."
With those instructions given, Darbakh turned his attention to the second hobgoblin, a silent nod communicating their next move. Together, the two of them descended the hillside, boots crunching on the rocky ground as they approached the mysterious caravan.
The war machines loomed larger as they drew nearer, and the sight of them became more detailed. The rhythmic thudding of their footsteps seemed to sync with the rapid beating of Darbakh's heart, a steady cadence in the midst of uncertainty. His eyes flicked over to the hobgoblin by his side, and he gave a brisk nod. It was time to find out who these newcomers were and whether they posed a threat or an opportunity in the unforgiving landscape of Avernus.
The tension in the air was palpable as Darbakh and the hobgoblin drew closer to the caravan, their weapons held at their sides but not yet drawn. They were not alone in their approach, however, as keen senses allowed them to detect the presence of an invisible imp tailing them. The tiny devil's unease became apparent when it realized it had been discovered, and its jittery voice cut through the silence.
"Ah, well, fancy meeting you here," the imp stammered nervously. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, and it seems you're heading to the Wandering Emporium. Hope you're not planning on using those weapons of yours, eh?"
The imp's words were laced with anxiety, but its invitation carried a glimmer of hope. Darbakh exchanged a quick glance with the hobgoblin, his skepticism evident. Nonetheless, the imp's mention of the Wandering Emporium had piqued their curiosity, and it was clear they were willing to hear more. As they moved closer, guided by the imp's unseen presence, the landscape began to shift before their eyes. A once desolate expanse transformed into a spectacle of vibrant colors and bustling activity. The Emporium materialized before them, an otherworldly bazaar unlike anything they had seen before.
Tents of various sizes and shapes sprawled across the scorched earth, adorned with intricate patterns and vibrant fabrics. Merchants and traders hawked their wares, their voices weaving a chaotic symphony of languages and dialects. A monstrous beholder floated above, its central eye surveying the crowd with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. A cavalcade of fiends and mortals meandered through the market, their intentions as diverse as the goods on display. Unique and exotic creatures, many of them beyond Darbakh's imagining, prowled the makeshift streets. Some patrons browsed without worry, while others haggled and bartered, their laughter and banter creating an oddly festive atmosphere.
In the midst of this surreal gathering, Darbakh and the hobgoblin stood as outsiders, drawn into a spectacle that defied the bleakness of Avernus. As the imp led them deeper into the Emporium, the offerings became even more fantastical—a veritable carnival of curiosities, from magical trinkets to peculiar beasts, each more fantastical than the last.
As Darbakh and the hobgoblin navigated the lively chaos of the Wandering Emporium, the imp's presence remained a constant reminder that their every move was being observed. The imp's voice cut through the clamor as it began to ask a series of seemingly innocuous questions, its tone falsely genial.
"So, what brings you to the Emporium?" the imp inquired, its voice a curious sing-song.
Darbakh exchanged a wary look with the hobgoblin, his suspicion growing. They had learned to be cautious in this unforgiving realm, and the imp's overly friendly demeanor only heightened their wariness. Nonetheless, they offered a vague answer.
"Just curious about what's on offer," Darbakh replied, his tone guarded.
The imp's eyes gleamed with something that might have been amusement, and it pressed further. "Ah, curiosity is a fine thing indeed. And what do you intend to trade, if anything?"
Darbakh's gaze flickered to the assortment of peculiar wares around them, his response calculated. "Depends on what catches our eye."
The imp's feigned smile widened, its questions becoming more pointed. "And are you looking for anything in particular? Or perhaps someone?"
The duergar's jaw tensed as he sensed the imp's intentions becoming clearer. His instinct to withhold information kicked in, and he replied with an air of casual indifference, "Just browsing, devil."
The imp's eyes bore into Darbakh, its facade of friendliness slipping for a fraction of a second before returning with even more sweetness. "Understood, friend. Darbakh, I believe is what the half-elf refers to you as?"
The imp's probing took a more direct turn as it inquired about Darbakh's name. The duergar's patience, already frayed, snapped like a brittle twig. His grip tightened around the imp's neck in an involuntary surge of anger, cutting off its words and its breath.
"Say my name again," Darbakh growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Say my name without permission one more time, I dare you.”
The imp's eyes widened in genuine surprise and fear, struggling against Darbakh's iron grip. It managed to sputter, "Sorry, sir…I was…just curious…"
The surrounding bazaar hummed with activity, bizarre and chaotic as patrons haggled over bizarre and fantastical wares. Darbakh's display of aggression drew little attention, lost in the midst of the Emporium's peculiar commerce.
The hobgoblin sensed the tension and subtly laid a hand on Darbakh's arm, attempting to diffuse the situation without alerting onlookers. He murmured, his voice measured, "Easy, friend. We're here for information, not a brawl."
Darbakh's grip on the imp relaxed slightly, and the imp coughed and gasped for breath as it pulled away, its expression a mix of fear and indignation. Darbakh's glower didn't waver, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.
"Remember this, devil," Darbakh hissed, his voice a venomous whisper. "You’re mortal on your own plane. Stay out of our business."
Emerging seemingly out of thin air, Mahadi materialized behind Darbakh and the hobgoblin. His presence was both disconcerting and strangely fitting in the chaotic atmosphere of the Emporium. Mahadi was a tall and elegant man, his charismatic appearance hinting at a mixture of charm and unsettling mystery. His impeccably tailored clothes spoke of both luxury and authority, the perfect ensemble for a host of this enigmatic bazaar.
Mahadi's dark eyes fixed on Darbakh and the hobgoblin, his gaze piercing and calculating. His smile was amiable, but there was a sense that something far deeper lay beneath the surface.
"Well, well," he said in a voice that oozed with intrigue. "What do we have here? New visitors to my Emporium, seeking something, I presume?"
The hobgoblin glanced between Darbakh and Mahadi before speaking up. "We've come in search of food and water," he replied, his tone respectful yet firm. "We're willing to trade."
Mahadi's interest seemed to deepen as he regarded them. "Ah, sustenance," he mused. "A most essential commodity in these treacherous lands." He took a step closer, his eyes seemingly appraising them in a way that went beyond the surface. "I believe I might just have what you're looking for," Mahadi continued. "But first, allow me to welcome you to the Wandering Emporium. I am Mahadi, the purveyor of this fine establishment."
As he spoke, the hubbub of the bazaar seemed to ebb and flow around them, creating a strange pocket of focus amidst the chaos. It was as if Mahadi's words held a gravitational pull, demanding attention.
Darbakh's grip remained clenched, his expression wary, as he studied Mahadi. He had no trust to spare for strangers, especially in Avernus. But Mahadi's appearance seemed to be more than mere coincidence. As his gaze lingered on Mahadi's enigmatic smile, he couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was far from accidental.
With a nod, Mahadi turned his attention to the hobgoblin. "Food and water, you say? Excellent. Follow me, my friends," he said, gesturing toward a grand tent that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly allure. "I believe I have just the provisions you need."
Darbakh exchanged a cautious glance with the hobgoblin before following Mahadi toward the tent, his wariness masked behind a veneer of stoic determination. In a place like Avernus, where every offer carried its own price, he knew better than to accept anything at face value. But Mahadi's appearance and the timing of their encounter left him with no choice but to see where this path might lead.
"My dear guests," Mahadi said with a gracious bow, his demeanor shifting seamlessly from intrigue to hospitality. "Might I have the pleasure of offering you a truly exquisite dining experience at my establishment, the Infernal Rapture? A respite from the harshness of Avernus, where you can savor flavors that defy the infernal landscape."
Darbakh's eyes narrowed at the mention of the restaurant, his suspicions mounting. He shook his head, his tone resolute. "We need provisions we can take with us, not a sit-down meal."
Mahadi's smile never wavered, his politeness unwavering. "Ah, I see," he said, his words dripping with charm. "A more practical request, indeed. Allow me to accommodate your needs, my friends." As the hobgoblin echoed Darbakh's insistence on provisions to go, Mahadi's demeanor remained cordial. "Very well, provisions it shall be. But might I inquire— are there other weary travelers with you, perhaps in need of sustenance as well?"
Darbakh exchanged a quick glance with the hobgoblin. He wasn't sure whether Mahadi's concern was genuine or if there was another motive behind his question. The idea of revealing the presence of the refugees crossed his mind briefly, but he quickly dismissed it. Trusting strangers in Avernus was a luxury they couldn't afford.
Darbakh exchanged a quick, guarded glance with the hobgoblin. "We need provisions for several mouths to food," he responded, his tone evasive yet cautious. “Can you provide that?”
"Indeed," Mahadi said, his gaze shifting between Darbakh and the hobgoblin. "And might I inquire, good sir, what name you go by?"
Darbakh's gaze remained fixed on Mahadi, his expression revealing nothing. He didn't trust the charming facade that this figure presented; it was all too easy for a devil to weave illusions and manipulate perceptions in Avernus.
The hobgoblin shifted uneasily before speaking up. "You can call me Five," he replied, his voice tense.
"Ah, but is 'Five' your true name?" Mahadi asked, his tone lightly quizzical.
Five's gaze darted towards Darbakh, seeking guidance. Darbakh's response was a subtle shake of his head. The hobgoblin turned back to Mahadi, his expression resigned. "Just call me Five."
Mahadi's lips curved into a faint smile, though there was a hint of skepticism in his eyes. "Very well, Five," he said, acknowledging the response without further probing. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Mahadi's smile widened, revealing gleaming teeth as he gestured toward the chests. "Gentlemen, I understand the hardships you face in this desolate realm. That's why I'm prepared to offer you a most generous deal. Five soul coins worth of provisions for only one soul coin."
Five's eyes widened at the mention of provisions, his hunger evident in his expression. He shifted slightly, drawn to the chests like a moth to a flame.
Darbakh, however, remained unmoved by the offer. He regarded Mahadi with a stern expression, his skepticism undiminished. "I don't believe in a free lunch," he stated flatly, his voice carrying a note of caution.
Mahadi chuckled softly, his amusement undeterred by Darbakh's suspicion. "Ah, a shrewd observer, I see. Rest assured, my friend, I have no intention of insulting your intelligence or your instincts."
The devil's words held a certain charm, a silky smoothness that was as enticing as it was unsettling. Darbakh's gaze remained fixed on Mahadi, his stance unyielding. He wasn't one to be swayed easily, not by grand offers or honeyed words. Whatever Mahadi's intentions, Darbakh was determined to uncover them before making any deals.
"As a fellow resident of this land of trials, I understand the value of maintaining one's principles," Mahadi continued, his tone carrying a hint of respect. "I offer this deal in the spirit of mutual benefit. But the choice is yours, and yours alone."
“And what do you ask in return for that choice?” the duergar asked.
Mahadi's eyes sparkled with amusement as he continued, his charismatic voice weaving its way into the conversation. "First, I do ask that you kindly return my humble chests once they've served their purpose." He chuckled heartily, his laughter resonating through the air. "Though, I assure you, they are but simple containers, hardly comparable to the value of a soul coin."
Five's smile widened at Mahadi's jovial tone, his appetite for the provisions evidently outweighing any concerns he might have had. However, Darbakh remained stoic, his features unchanged by the merchant’s humor. He regarded Mahadi with an unyielding expression, his wariness etched into every line of his face.
Mahadi's gaze shifted slightly as he nodded in the direction of Darbakh’s clenched fist. "Second, it seems my dear little employee has been overwhelmed by your display of strength," he remarked, a note of amusement in his voice. "I do believe he's passed out from the excitement. Might I ask you to release him?"
Darbakh's grip on the imp loosened, allowing it to slump to the ground as Mahadi's laughter filled the air once more. The Emporium’s owner seemed to find the situation rather amusing, but Darbakh's expression remained unchanged. He didn't appear to share in the laughter, his gaze steady as he watched Mahadi.
Mahadi's demeanor shifted from lightheartedness to something more earnest as he leaned in slightly, his eyes locking onto Darbakh's. "Now, for the last piece of our arrangement," he began, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity. "I humbly ask that you and your companion return here after some rest, and bring along one other representative of your group."
Five's brow furrowed slightly in confusion. "Why?" he asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and caution.
Mahadi offered a small, apologetic smile. "I'm afraid I'm not prepared to share the specifics just yet," he admitted. "What I can tell you is that I believe we might be able to assist each other with challenges that extend beyond this immediate exchange." His gaze shifted between Darbakh and Five, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "However, I don't wish to raise your hopes prematurely. Let's just say that I see a potential for mutual benefit, but I'd like to ensure the details are in order before we proceed."
A thoughtful silence settled over them, the weight of Mahadi's request hanging in the air. Five exchanged a quick glance with Darbakh, seeking his guidance in this matter. The duergar's gaze remained steady, his expression unreadable.
After a moment, Mahadi's voice broke the silence once more, his tone still earnest. "So, my friends, will you give me your word that you'll return, after some rest, to discuss the possibility of our mutual aid? I only ask that you return for a visit; nothing further is obligated. I understand that this is a significant commitment, and I appreciate your consideration."
The tension was palpable, the decision hanging in the balance. Five looked to Darbakh once more, his expression seeking an answer. And finally, it was Darbakh who broke the silence, his voice calm and measured. "Fair," he said simply, accepting Mahadi's terms with the weight of his own cautious agreement.
With the terms agreed upon, a warm smile spread across Mahadi's face, a flicker of genuine happiness in his eyes. He walked alongside Darbakh and Five as they made their way to the edge of the circle formed by the infernal war machines. "I'm truly delighted that we could come to an understanding," he remarked amiably, as if they had just concluded a friendly conversation. "The Wandering Emporium will remain in this very spot for some time, always ready to offer its unique wares and services whenever you might have need."
Neither Darbakh nor Five replied to his pleasantries, their expressions remaining guarded as they carried the chests of provisions. As they moved away from the bustling bazaar, the imp stirred and groaned, its invisible form materializing in a comical tumble as it coughed and sputtered, clearly bewildered by the recent turn of events.
Mahadi's laughter, rich and melodic, accompanied them for a moment longer before fading as they ventured further from the Emporium's surreal embrace.
As they approached Ulthian, Five's voice carried a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. "What do you think of that, Darbakh?"
They navigated their way back to the hidden camp nestled between the rocky outcrops, the familiar mouth of the cave welcoming them. As they entered, Ramona, a glimmer of hope in her eyes, rushed forward to greet them. "Where did you find all this food?" she inquired, her voice tinged with both wonder and disbelief.
The refugees, sensing something extraordinary, had gathered near the entrance of the cave, their tired faces now showing signs of anticipation. As Darbakh and Five revealed the chests brimming with provisions, a collective gasp of astonishment rippled through the group. The sight of such abundance, in a place where scarcity was the norm, was nothing short of miraculous.
Ramona's hands flew to her mouth as she surveyed the riches before her. "My goodness," she murmured in awe, "if we ration this properly, we could stretch these supplies for a week, maybe more. This is a blessing beyond our wildest dreams."
The camp erupted with a subdued but palpable excitement, whispers of gratitude and astonishment mingling in the air. As the refugees sprang into action, helping Ramona unpack and organize the precious provisions, her own excitement was palpable. She repeated her question absentmindedly, but her attention was fully devoted to the task at hand. The cave's interior came alive with activity, and the once-depressed souls now moved with renewed energy and a sense of hope.
Watching the scene unfold, Darbakh turned to Five with a nod. "Looks like we've got food for a while. We can figure out the rest later."
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Darbakh - Duergar troublemaker [Pic 1] [Pic 2] [Story 1] [Story 2]
Quorian - half-elf watcher
PM me the word ‘tomato’
Multiclass engage!
In the cave, a deep hush had settled over the sleeping refugees. Avernus offered no natural rhythm of day and night, but the collective exhaustion dictated their slumber patterns. Rows of weary bodies lay sprawled out on makeshift bedding, seeking respite from the desolation that surrounded them. The quiet was punctuated only by the soft breathing of those in dreams' embrace.
Among the resting figures, Darbakh lay in his carved-out hollow, his form shifted restlessly on the rocky surface. The silence of the cave seemed to magnify the discomfort that gnawed at his thoughts. Despite the fatigue that clung to him, his mind refused to settle.
The few half-elves and the solitary elf kept watch, their eyes half-lidded in a trance-like state. Their innate ability to remain alert during their meditation-like rest allowed the others to find temporary solace, even in this harsh realm. And yet, the sense of somber fatigue clung to the very air they breathed, a reminder that their rest was not free of the burdens they carried.
Darbakh's eyes fluttered open, the dim light of Avernus filtering into his consciousness. With a groggy movement, he pushed himself up, his eyelids heavy as he rose from the hard surface that passed for his bed. The weight of weariness pressed upon him, but an instinctual need drew him away from the still-sleeping refugees.
Barefoot and seemingly in a daze, he moved with slow, deliberate steps towards the cave entrance. His fingers curled around the fabric of his tunic, pulling it closer to his midsection, as if the urgency of his purpose demanded it. The stark reality of the Nine Hells had stripped away many pretenses, leaving only the most basic needs.
With each step, his eyes remained half-closed, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. The rhythm of his breath matched the unrelenting pulse of Avernus, as he ventured towards a secluded spot marked by necessity. In this land of desolation and suffering, even the most private moments bore the weight of the surroundings.
As Darbakh moved forward with a half-lidded gaze, his awareness sharpened as he sensed an unexpected movement within the confines of his pants. A puzzled frown crossed his face, his mumbled words a mix of confusion and mild annoyance. "What the heck...?"
Darbakh's searching fingers soon located the mysterious source of movement: a smooth, sapphire-colored egg nestled in his pocket. As he withdrew it, he was immediately struck by the weight and the unexpected warmth that radiated from its surface. His gaze fixed on the egg, his brows furrowed in a mix of astonishment and disbelief.
The egg seemed to defy the laws of nature as it began to swell in his hand, expanding like a balloon being filled with air. What had started as a small, unassuming object had now grown to a size far beyond anything Darbakh had encountered before. The sapphire surface stretched and rippled as it increased in size, its smooth texture transforming into something more intricate and textured.
He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, his heart pounding as he struggled to process the bizarre sight before him. This wasn't a dream, it was reality, and the implications of the egg's rapid growth were beyond his comprehension. Darbakh's mind raced as he considered the possibilities, his instincts warring with his skepticism.
With a mixture of trepidation and determination, Darbakh took a step back, away from the cave's entrance and the sleeping refugees. The egg, now larger than his head, hovered in the air before him, pulsating with an otherworldly energy. He was keenly aware of the isolation of the moment, the silence of Avernus seeming to intensify as he stared at the enigmatic object.
As he stood there, his thoughts swirling in a whirlwind of uncertainty, a realization dawned upon him. The egg was a manifestation of Pendor's pact, a remnant of their agreement. The abishai's last plea to protect his reformed form during incubation now held new weight and urgency.
The crackling sound of splitting sapphire echoed through the air as the egg's surface shattered, releasing an unexpected torrent of cold, liquid blue that splashed against the ground and onto Darbakh's boots. He grimaced at the sensation, his brow furrowing in displeasure at the unexpected bath. Whatever he had expected, it certainly wasn't this.
As the liquid pooled around his feet, his attention was drawn to the strange sight before him. Emerging from the confines of the egg was a bizarre, squirming mass. It looked like no creature he had ever seen, a contorted amalgamation of flesh and appendages that seemed to defy the rules of nature.
The mass, slick with the sapphire liquid, continued to bloat and stretch until it reached the size of a goblin or perhaps a small dog. A tail sprouted from its rear, twitching in a manner that suggested both confusion and discomfort. The creature possessed an organic quality, its movements suggesting a primitive form of life, driven by instinct and a will of its own.
Darbakh found himself ogling the strange creation with a mix of morbid fascination and wariness. His gaze was fixated on the creature as if he were watching a disaster unfold before him, the way street urchins might gawk at the aftermath of an industrial accident. The surreal scene seemed to encapsulate the absurdity of Avernus itself, a place where even the laws of creation could be twisted and warped beyond recognition.
The squirming mass continued its frantic motions, struggling to come to terms with its newfound existence. Darbakh's lips twisted into a half-formed grimace as he took a cautious step back, unable to tear his eyes away from the peculiar creature before him. As the writhing mass scraped at the sapphire liquid with its talons, a transformation unfolded before Darbakh's eyes. The fluid slid away, revealing the true form within—a halfling-sized bat. Its fur shimmered like the red dust of the atmosphere, glinting in the ambient light of Avernus. But the creature's demeanor was far from triumphant.
The bat let out a pitiful sound, clutching its head as if in agony. "No, no! My intelligence, my knowledge… it's slipping away!" The oversized bat's voice carried a sense of desperation, its words mingling with a sense of loss that tugged at Darbakh's own sense of unease.
Darbakh's eyes widened in recognition as the bat's voice registered in his ears. Pendor—the same abishai he had encountered days ago—now stood before him in this peculiar form. The realization was both bewildering and astonishing, adding another layer of mystique to the situation.
“Pendor? Why is your voice coming out of this ugly thing?” the duergar said while gesturing vaguely toward the writhing giant bat. “Why do you sound squeaky?”
Arching his back toward the sky, Pendor briefly convulsed as if entering a state of system shock. “I’m your primal animal companion. Our bond grants you the ability to speak to animals…my voice isn’t squeaky, it’s just what an animal of my form sounds like…oh! Oh, my head! My magic, my lore, it’s draining out of my brain! This small beast’s cranium can’t contain my previous form’s…argh!”
"Didn't expect your devilish plan to work, did you?" Darbakh's gruff voice cut through the air, laden with a mix of skepticism and amusement. His gaze shifted from the transformed animal to the remnants of the shattered egg, now spread across the ground like a bizarre mosaic of sapphire shards and liquid. "And it's even more grotesque up close."
The bat's eyes, filled with a mix of emotions that ranged from frustration to acceptance, met Darbakh's gaze. Though the creature's form had changed, there was still a flicker of the intelligence that had once resided within the abishai. The fact that this was Pendor—the same being who had bargained for its own existence—was not lost on Darbakh.
Pendor's eyes, clouded with a haze of bewilderment and the remnants of his former identity, looked up at Darbakh. The bat's posture held a hint of indignation, and his voice carried an edge of offense as he responded to Darbakh's comment. "Such a crude observation, my dear host. My transformation is not to be likened to mere grotesquery, but rather to the miraculous cycle of birth and rebirth, a gift bestowed upon us by the cosmos."
Darbakh's gaze remained fixed on the transformed abishai, his expression unyielding. "Don't go giving me any grandiose speeches," he retorted dryly. "Clean yourself up first, and mind you don't fall into the latrine. It's hard enough to stomach the scenery around here without adding to it."
Pendor's eyes flickered with a mix of exasperation and amusement, despite his evident distress. The primal animal companion let out a resigned sigh, as much as a creature of his size and form could, and gingerly began grooming himself, each gesture marked by an air of unfamiliarity. As he cleaned off the remnants of the sapphire liquid and the residue of his transformation, his voice carried a hint of something that might have been nostalgia.
"You may mock my words, but even in this form, I am beholden to fulfill my promise." Pendor's tone softened, resonating with a sense of sincerity. "I am grateful for this second chance, and I believe that it brings with it possibilities we cannot yet fathom."
"Damn right you are," Darbakh muttered with a mixture of annoyance and resignation. "You're beholden, and I don't intend to let you forget it."
He watched Pendor continue his meticulous self-grooming, only satisfied once the abishai's previous form was no longer visible beneath the iridescent fur of the primal spirit now given form. With a dismissive shake of his head, Darbakh turned away and walked back to his chosen corner of the cave. The exhaustion that had been creeping up on him settled heavily in his bones as he laid down, his body aching from the challenges of Avernus.
"Get yourself cleaned up and then follow me back," Darbakh called over his shoulder, his tone flippant despite the gravity of their circumstances. "I've got to catch some sleep before these blasted planes of existence decide to mess with us again."
A gentle nudge against Darbakh's side roused him from his restless slumber. He blinked his eyes open to find Pendor hovering near him.
"Can I help you with something?" Darbakh asked, his voice carrying the hint of a sigh.
"I… um, I wanted to ask if I could sleep next to you," Pendor replied tentatively, the words almost stumbling over each other.
Darbakh's brow furrowed as he regarded the primal bat. "Get real, Pendor. You're a servant, not a pet."
Pendor's eyes darkened, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. "Please don't speak to me in such a manner. I may be bound to you, but that doesn't mean I'm beneath dignity."
Darbakh let out a dry chuckle. "And yet, you're asking to cuddle up next to me like a lost pup. Is that the dignified behavior of a devil?"
Pendor's furry brows furrowed in consternation, but he stood his ground. "I simply thought sleeping at the foot of your bed might be...comforting, given our circumstances."
A smirk played at the corner of Darbakh's lips. "Afraid of the dark, are we?"
Pendor's newly mammalian face contorted into an expression of indignant outrage at Darbakh's remark, but he soon realized the futility of further argument. With a frustrated huff, he settled down, his animal form curling into a ball just at the entrance of the hole. Darbakh's steady breathing indicated that he was already drifting back into slumber.
"I'm not a devil anymore," Pendor muttered resentfully, his voice a low grumble. "My spirit is one with the cycle of nature again, whether you like it or not." His words, laden with irritation, hung in the air for a moment before being swallowed by the quiet embrace of the cave.
.
Darbakh - Duergar troublemaker [Pic 1] [Pic 2] [Story 1] [Story 2]
Quorian - half-elf watcher
PM me the word ‘tomato’
Enter: Mahadi!
In the time they considered roughly equivalent to a morning, the refugees gathered in front of the cave, quietly eating their share of the provisions, their expressions a mixture of exhaustion and quiet gratitude. The scene had a touch of respite from the harshness of Avernus, but the overall mood remained subdued, as if the weight of their situation couldn't be fully lifted.
A group of children among the refugees reached out and tentatively patted Pendor's furry hide, a hint of smiles gracing their lips as they treated the transformed abishai like a friendly pet.
As the blood-red light cast a pale glow over the desolate landscape of Avernus, Ramona's thoughtful expression matched her musings. "You know," she began, her voice carrying a note of contemplation, "even if this Mahadi is a dishonest businessman, the fact that those interests align with providing us what we desperately need could work in our favor."
Darbakh remained silent, his features locked in a stoic mask as he considered her words. Meanwhile, as if summoned by their conversation, Five appeared on the scene and inquired, "Are you both ready?"
"We're ready," Ramona replied with a determined nod, and then added, "I think it's worth the risk."
Darbakh's expression didn't change, but his slight nod indicated agreement. With their resolve set, the trio left the refuge of their hideout, their footsteps echoing softly in the eerie silence of Avernus. The distant figure of the Wandering Emporium remained stationary, a curious anomaly against the backdrop of shifting landscapes. As they trod the familiar path towards the caravan, the cacophony of various voices, bartering, and the clinking of infernal currency filled the air. The Emporium itself stood like a shimmering mirage amidst the harsh surroundings of Avernus, bustling with activity.
Midway on their journey, Ramona took the opportunity to ask about Pendor. "By the way, Darbakh, where did your pet come from?" she inquired, her voice carrying genuine curiosity.
Confusion clouded Darbakh's features until he noticed Pendor trailing behind them. He turned to address the primal creature. "Go back to the camp, Pendor. Keep watch over the others."
“I don’t want to stay,” Pendor whined. “I want to follow-“
Pendor's protest was cut off by Ramona's interjection. "Does it understand you?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing in puzzlement.
Darbakh was taken aback for a moment. "We’re speaking common," he replied, his tone somewhat defensive.
Ramona exchanged a puzzled glance with Five, who chimed in, "Those were literally just bat noises."
The realization dawned on Darbakh, and he shook his head in mild frustration. "It seems this place messes with your head in more ways than one." With that, they continued on their path towards the Emporium, the bustling activity before them a stark contrast to the desolation of Avernus.
Once they stepped into the sprawling bazaar of the Wandering Emporium, they found themselves engulfed in a sensory whirlwind. The place was a vibrant kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, and scents, a stark contrast to the bleak landscape of Avernus that surrounded it.
Tents and stalls lined the makeshift aisles, displaying an astonishing variety of goods that seemed to cater to every imaginable need, desire, and whim. Creatures of all kinds, from mortals to fiends, and even beings beyond easy description, mingled in the crowded space. The air was alive with the buzz of bartering, the haggling of prices, and the hum of various conversations, creating a symphony of voices from countless worlds and cultures. Ramona's eyes widened in wonder as she took in the spectacle. Mortals wearing tattered clothes stood alongside armored devils, while bizarre creatures with shapes and features that defied logic ambled through the bazaar. Strange and exotic aromas wafted through the air, mingling with the metallic tang of Avernus itself.
Amidst this vibrant chaos, Ramona turned to Five with a mixture of awe and bewilderment. "Where did all these people come from? I mean, who would choose to come to a place like Avernus voluntarily?" she mused.
Five scratched his head, exchanging theories with Ramona as they walked through the bustling aisles. "Maybe they were pulled here like us? Or perhaps they have some hidden agenda," he speculated.
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Mahadi. Tall and impeccably dressed, the purveyor of the Emporium exuded an air of affable charm. His striking attire seemed to shimmer with otherworldly energy, reflecting the myriad colors of the Emporium itself.
Mahadi's warm smile and outstretched hand signaled his welcome. "Ah, welcome back! It's good to see familiar faces and new visitors alike," he greeted, his tone as enchanting as his appearance.
As Ramona and Five exchanged glances, still slightly overwhelmed by the spectacle around them, Mahadi's words seemed to resonate with the essence of the Emporium—a place where the peculiar and extraordinary converged, offering solace and opportunity amidst the harshness of Hell.
"Allow me to introduce myself," Mahadi said with a graceful bow, his smile unwavering. "I am Mahadi, the proprietor of this establishment. And you, my dear?" he turned his attention to Ramona.
Ramona offered a polite smile, her unease momentarily hidden. "I'm Ramona, a medic, here with a group of refugees from Elturel," she replied, her tone cordial yet guarded.
Darbakh stood silently, his arms crossed, seemingly absorbed in observing the bustling bazaar. It was only when Mahadi spoke again that he shifted his attention.
"Forgive me, but I requested the presence of three individuals, not four," Mahadi's voice remained pleasant, yet his gaze held a hint of curiosity as he glanced behind them.
Darbakh's eyes followed Mahadi's gaze, landing on Pendor who had tagged along. With a heavy sigh, he turned to face his companion. "You're not part of this discussion, Pendor. Go back to the camp," he grumbled. Pendor's eyes narrowed, a wounded pride evident in his expression as he slinked away from the group, his wings drooping in a sulking manner. Darbakh turned his attention back to Mahadi, his expression unapologetic. "Apologies for the confusion. Let's proceed," he replied, his tone curt.
Mahadi's smile remained unwavering, as if he was unaffected by the tension. "Of course, my dear friend. Please follow me," he gestured for them to walk alongside him, leading them deeper into the bustling heart of the Emporium.
As they walked, Ramona and Five exchanged subtle glances, sensing the underlying complexities of the situation. The bazaar continued to swirl with activity around them, a vibrant tapestry woven from the threads of countless worlds and stories. With graceful gestures, Mahadi led them through the labyrinthine aisles of the Emporium, each turn revealing new wonders that seemed to defy the desolation of Avernus. The bustling atmosphere was alive with the chatter of merchants and patrons, their various languages blending into a cacophony of sound.
"And here," Mahadi announced, his voice carrying a note of excitement as he unveiled a large tent adorned with colorful banners and dimly lit lanterns. Inside, a group of patrons were engaged in a lively game of darts, their laughter mingling with the clinking of coins. "Ah, pub games for the spirited ones," Mahadi remarked, a playful glint in his eye. "A chance to unwind, test your skills, and perhaps win a little something."
Five's interest was piqued, and he glanced at Darbakh as if seeking permission. Darbakh merely nodded, and Five offered a faint grin before approaching the tent with anticipation.
As they moved on, Mahadi's guiding presence led them to another tent, this one adorned with intricately woven tapestries and an array of vibrant yarns. A hunched figure sat within, her fingers dancing nimbly over a crochet hook. "Allow me to introduce you to Esmeralda," Mahadi gestured to the night hag as she continued her work, a smile playing at her lips. "She specializes in teaching the fey art of crochet, a soothing respite from the trials of this land, and a unique method which allows one to alter their own dreams."
Ramona's eyes lit up, her curiosity piqued by the delicate artistry. "Crochet?" she echoed, her voice filled with intrigue.
"Yes, my dear. A way to create beauty amidst the chaos," Mahadi replied, his words carrying a wisdom that seemed to transcend the realms.
Ramona exchanged a glance with Five before turning back to Mahadi. "Thank you for showing us these places. A few moments of respite might do us some good."
"Of course," Mahadi nodded, his smile unwavering. "Partaking in the games requires a small fee, but you're welcome to observe without charge. Enjoy your time, my friends."
With that, Ramona and Five stepped away from Mahadi, finding a quiet spot from which they could watch the darts game and the delicate movements of the crochet artist.
Darbakh's sharp gaze bore into Mahadi as he voiced his suspicion. "Why did you ask for others to accompany me if your intention was to speak with me alone?"
Mahadi's lips curled into a knowing smile, his eyes locking onto Darbakh's with a keen understanding. "Your penchant for paranoia serves you well, Darbakh. You're absolutely right. However, had I asked you to come alone, would you have obliged?"
Darbakh's response was a simple grunt, a tacit admission of his wariness. He had learned long ago that trust was a currency that held little value in the treacherous landscapes of that place.
Mahadi's smile widened as he continued, "You see, my friend, I needed a cover, a pretense to gather you here. A chance to speak without raising suspicion." He gestured toward a nearby bench set within view of the gaming area. "Would you do me the honor of sitting with me for a moment, Darbakh? We have much to discuss."
Darbakh's brows furrowed, his skepticism evident in his gaze. Yet, a mixture of curiosity and begrudging respect for Mahadi's cunning compelled him to comply. With a curt nod, he walked over to the bench and settled onto it, his posture tense and alert.
Seated on the bench, Darbakh's eyes remained fixed on Mahadi, who suddenly produced a small tincture from his jacket and consumed it in a swift motion. As the liquid coursed through him, Mahadi's features seemed to shift, his form taking on a more solid and defined appearance. And when he began speaking in the guttural language of the dwarves, Darbakh's surprise was evident.
Mahadi's words, now in the language of Darbakh's people, flowed smoothly. "I have a few duergar in my employ," he began, his tone measured. "It's always good to have those who understand the intricacies of this land and its inhabitants."
Darbakh's suspicion was palpable, his gaze unyielding as he met Mahadi's eyes. "What are you getting at?" he demanded, his voice a low rumble.
Mahadi's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Have you observed anything about me, Darbakh?" he inquired, his dwarven words hanging in the air. The intensity of his gaze implied that he was testing Darbakh, whose expression remained stony as he contemplated the question.
He had known that something was amiss with the man, something that didn't quite align with the human façade he presented. "You're a fiend, and you’re using an illusion to appear human," the duergar replied bluntly, his people’s natural awareness of illusions guiding him.
Mahadi's chuckle held a hint of amusement. "A keen observation, my friend. And an accurate one."
Darbakh's gaze remained unwavering. "Why the façade?"
Mahadi's smile never wavered. "In this realm, it pays to navigate the intricacies of power and alliances. My true form might not be as well received."
“Then why bother exposing yourself to me?”
“A sign of trust. Not a formal pact…consider this an extension of my goodwill,” Mahadi replied, “on the understanding that you’ll honor this disclosure I’m providing you.”
Darbakh's response was a noncommittal grunt, his skepticism unyielding.
Mahadi's eyes held a glimmer of intrigue as he regarded Darbakh. "You, too, have secrets, Darbakh. A past that shapes your present, a fire that fuels your actions."
Darbakh's expression remained guarded, a wall of stoicism protecting his thoughts.
Mahadi leaned back slightly, his voice a low murmur. "I expected as much from one of your background. But let us not dwell on the intricacies of our identities for now. There are matters at hand that could benefit us both, if you're willing to listen." As the air around them seemed to hum with an unspoken challenge, Mahadi leaned in slightly, his expression composed yet expectant. "May I test my own senses against the hidden facets of your being?" he inquired, his tone a blend of politeness and intrigue.
Darbakh's response was a simple, unironic nod. The duergar's face was a mask of stoicism, a demeanor that never seemed to waver.
With a subtle nod of acknowledgment, Mahadi's eyes flickered for a moment, his gaze briefly locking onto Darbakh's backpack. "In your possession, there lies an artifact," he began, his voice measured. "An artifact that seems to cling to you, defying attempts to rid yourself of it."
Darbakh's posture stiffened, a reflexive defense against Mahadi's probing words. His stern expression didn't waver as he simply responded with a curt "Perhaps."
Mahadi's lips curved in a small, knowing smile. "This artifact," he continued, his words precise, "acts as a prison for two immortal beings. One of them, I suspect, hails from the depths of Avernus itself."
The duergar's response was no more forthcoming. "Maybe."
But in that moment, a shift seemed to occur. Mahadi's demeanor, once composed and poised, took on a tinge of worry, a glimpse of fatigue that flickered across his features. He sighed softly, as though grappling with a weighty realization. "You carry with you an infernal puzzle box," he stated, his voice tinged with a note of solemnity. "It's bound to you by a curse, a connection that transcends mere possession."
Darbakh's silence affirmed Mahadi's assessment. The air seemed to hang heavy with the weight of unspoken truths, secrets that danced at the edges of their conversation. And amidst the bustling backdrop of the Emporium, where mortals and fiends went about their transactions oblivious to the exchange, a subtle understanding passed between the duergar and the fiend in disguise.
Breaking the silence, Mahadi's voice held a hint of thoughtful concern. "The puzzle box troubles me as much as it troubles you," he admitted, his gaze locked onto Darbakh's, as if seeking to gauge the duergar's response.
"How so?" Darbakh's inquiry was direct, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded the enigmatic fiend.
Mahadi's lips parted as if he were about to speak, but then he paused, his expression taking on a contemplative air. Finally, he spoke again, his tone slightly hesitant. "I wish to ask you how the puzzle box has troubled you in the past," he ventured cautiously.
The duergar's stubborn resolve was unwavering. "I won't answer that until you explain your own problems," Darbakh retorted, his voice firm.
A sigh escaped Mahadi's lips, his shoulders sagging just slightly. "Very well," he conceded, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation. "It seems that this is the way duergar always behave." He offered Darbakh a wry smile before continuing. "My concern lies in the potential consequences of your connection to the puzzle box.” Mahadi leaned in slightly, his expression a mixture of gravity and determination. "I'll be frank with you," he began, his voice low and earnest. "I don't particularly care about the horned devil trapped in one side of the puzzle box. That's a matter of little consequence to me."
Darbakh's eyebrow quirked in response, his attention keen. "Then what is it that concerns you?" he inquired, his tone uncharacteristically cautious.
Mahadi's lips thinned into a thoughtful line. "It's the efreeti named Karzoth," he admitted with a touch of reluctance. "He's trapped in the other side of the puzzle box, and that, my dear duergar, is a tremendous problem."
Darbakh's curiosity deepened. "How so?"
A heavy sigh escaped Mahadi as he considered his words. "You see, long before Karzoth was sealed within the puzzle box, he and I had dealings. I incurred a debt to him—a debt I have no means of repaying."
Darbakh's gaze remained unwavering, his mind piecing together the puzzle of Mahadi's predicament. "And this debt... it's the reason he's trapped in the box?"
Mahadi's lips tightened, his eyes betraying a hint of regret. "No, I had no part in that; I only knew of the box’s nature after the fact. I do not know the specifics. By the time the puzzle box was created, I had already succeeded in hiding from Karzoth. I had evaded him and escaped his pursuit, but the box itself... that was a product of mortal hands."
In the midst of the bustling Emporium, Darbakh's sharp inquiry cut through the air, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. "Tell me, Mahadi. What is it you want from me?"
Mahadi's eyes met Darbakh's, his gaze steady and determined. "I want to make a deal, my duergar friend," he began, his words measured and deliberate. "A deal that could save both of us from a grave fate."
Darbakh's brows furrowed, his skepticism etched on his features. "And what sort of deal are you proposing?"
Mahadi leaned in slightly, his voice a low murmur amidst the cacophony of the Emporium. "If the horned devil within the puzzle box is unconditionally freed, then I can ensure that Karzoth, the efreeti trapped within the other side of the box, is banished to a demiplane—a demiplane disconnected from the box's physical structure. In that demiplane, he would be isolated, cut off from the multiverse forever."
Darbakh's gaze remained unwavering as he processed Mahadi's words. "And why is that important to you?"
A flicker of unease passed over Mahadi's expression, his tone taking on a weight of urgency. "Because, my dear duergar, even with all my power and influence, I am no match for Karzoth. As a genie, he cares nothing for the protections I enjoy from the likes of Asmodeus. If he were to be freed, he would pursue me relentlessly, seeking to exact his revenge for the debt I owe him."
Darbakh's understanding deepened, the gravity of the situation coming into focus. "And you believe that banishing him to a demiplane is the only way to ensure your safety?"
Mahadi's response was swift, his voice tinged with a mixture of fear and desperation. "More than safety, it's a matter of survival. Karzoth's recklessness knows no bounds, and his fiery temper would drive him to destroy me, no matter the cost."
As the weight of Mahadi's words settled in the air, Darbakh took a moment to think, his gaze distant and contemplative. After a brief silence, he finally spoke, his voice tinged with gravity. "This is a heavy topic, Mahadi. You're asking me to make a decision that could have far-reaching consequences."
Mahadi's response was solemn as he nodded. "Indeed, my friend. The release of Karzoth could set in motion events that even I cannot fully predict."
Darbakh's eyes bore into Mahadi's as he spoke again. "And what could these events entail?"
Mahadi's gaze never wavered as he answered, his voice unwavering. "An inter-planar war between the Nine Hells and the Elemental Plane of Fire, a conflict that would unleash devastation across the realms. Karzoth doesn’t care about the consequences of his actions. He’s not chaotic; he’s just…obtuse. He’s fully aware that, if he interferes with my business here on Avernus, then the powers-that-be here will retaliate. Then, the powers-that-be in the City of Brass will retaliate, and so forth. He’s fully aware, yet he doesn’t care.”
Darbakh's brows furrowed as he considered the implications, the enormity of the situation becoming clear. "You didn't offer me anything in return for my agreement to condemn this efreeti to a lifetime of isolation."
A knowing smile touched Mahadi's lips, his response measured. "Ah, but I have made my own request, my friend. And in turn, I am open to you making a request of your own."
Darbakh's expression remained guarded, his voice firm. "And what assurance do I have that you'll uphold your end of the bargain?"
Mahadi's gaze held a glint of amusement as he replied, his tone smooth and persuasive. "Rarely do I deal with customers on such even terms, Darbakh. The respect I am showing you in this matter should not be underestimated."
Darbakh's response held a touch of skepticism. "Yeah, well, I won't be overestimating the respect you're showing me either."
Mahadi's demeanor shifted for a brief moment, as if caught off guard by Darbakh's brusque remark. But then he chuckled softly, a hint of feigned amusement in his voice. "A true icon of Laduguer, you are."
Darbakh chose to ignore the comment and pressed on. "I've gathered a group of mortals, unlike myself, who won't survive much longer in Avernus. They need to find their way back to the prime material plane. That's what I want in return."
Mahadi nodded thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing as he considered the proposition. "Gathering a group for safe passage...intriguing. The logistics of such an endeavor are complex, but not insurmountable."
Inspiration seemed to spark in Mahadi's eyes as he mulled over the situation. "A portal to the prime material plane is no small feat," he mused aloud, his voice thoughtful. "But it's not just the logistics we need to consider. Such a portal could attract the attention of celestial forces, who might perceive it as a threat to the delicate cosmological balance. And even the more pragmatic-minded devils might intervene to prevent such an imbalance, seeing it as a disruption to their infernal schemes."
His gaze shifted, sweeping over the chaotic landscape of Avernus. "However," he continued, his tone becoming more contemplative, "Avernus is a place of magical turmoil, with its own peculiar rhythms. It might hold the key to a solution." Turning his attention back to Darbakh, Mahadi's eyes held a glint of determination. "Give me a few days to devise a plan. I'll explore the possibilities that Avernus provides. But there's one thing I must ask of you in return: Can I trust that you won't tamper with that puzzle box in the meantime?"
Without hesitation, Darbakh's voice cut through the air, crisp and unwavering. "I won't tamper with it while you plan, on one condition: You provide my people with food, free of charge."
Mahadi's professional demeanor faltered for a moment, his eyes widening in genuine surprise. "What? But Darbakh, you've had that puzzle box for years. You've never tampered with it before. Why this sudden need for compensation?"
Darbakh's expression remained stern, his eyes locked onto Mahadi's. "Because, Mahadi, my priorities have shifted. My people need to eat, and I won't let them starve in exchange for keeping this puzzle box untouched."
The fiend's eyes flickered as he considered Darbakh's demand. A tense silence settled between them, filled only by the distant hum of activity from the bazaar. Finally, Mahadi let out a frustrated sigh, his brows furrowing. "Very well, Darbakh. I suppose we have a deal. Food for your people in exchange for your patience."
Darbakh's expression relaxed slightly, a small nod indicating his acceptance. "Good. Remember, Mahadi, if you break your word, I won't hesitate to make sure that puzzle box becomes your problem in a very unpleasant way."
“Please, be reasonable. You’re not just threatening me; this is bigger than individuals. You don’t understand how far a genie like this will go to reclaim-“
“Food. Water.” Darbakh sounded like a broken record.
Mahadi's gaze bore into Darbakh's, and for a moment, the two locked eyes in a silent clash of wills. Then, with a sigh and a begrudging nod, Mahadi relented. "I understand. You have my word."
The tension in the air eased, just a fraction, as their agreement settled over them. The intricate dance between two determined individuals continued, each playing their part in a larger, intricate scheme set against the backdrop of Avernus' unforgiving landscape.
Mahadi straightened his attire, his professional veneer returning as he regained his composure. "Oh, and by the way, while we were discussing business, your friends seemed to have found some amusement in the games," he remarked casually, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "I trust you'll settle their tab before you leave."
Without awaiting a response, Mahadi turned on his heel and began to walk away, his confident stride carrying him through the bustling bazaar. Darbakh's eyes narrowed at the fiend's departing figure, his frustration building beneath the surface.
.
Darbakh - Duergar troublemaker [Pic 1] [Pic 2] [Story 1] [Story 2]
Quorian - half-elf watcher
PM me the word ‘tomato’
Darbakh had been sleeping soundly in his makeshift hole carved into the rough cave wall. His rest was a rare respite from the tormenting harshness of Avernus. However, the calm was soon shattered by a gentle but insistent voice. He stirred, eyelids heavy, and then sat up abruptly when Maisa's voice reached his ears.
Groggily, he blinked at the morning light spilling into the cave and scanned his surroundings. "Maisa? What is it?" he mumbled, still caught in the clutches of drowsiness.
She stood just outside the entrance of his hole, her expression tense. Her voice quivered with worry as she uttered the unsettling words. "There are devils approaching, Darbakh."
Darbakh's response was immediate, driven by a gritty determination born of countless encounters with the horrors of Avernus. His tone was casual, belying the seriousness of the situation. "I guess I need to kill someone."
Without waiting for further details, he rose from his makeshift bed, ignoring the discomfort of sleep still clinging to his limbs. As he prepared to face the approaching devils, his mood soured even further when he discovered Pendor, the fiendish bat-like creature, asleep inside the chest where he stored his armor. Without much ceremony, he grabbed the slumbering companion and tossed it out.
The act was swift and unceremonious, with no time for Pendor to react to the abrupt awakening.
As Darbakh methodically donned his armor, Maisa's voice bore an urgency she couldn't hide. "There are four devils approaching," she began, her eyes wide with concern, "They look spiky, and they're marching towards us slowly."
"Yeah, yeah," Darbakh responded, almost dismissively, as he secured a piece of armor in place.
"They're getting closer," Maisa added, her voice growing more frantic, "The other refugees are terrified."
Darbakh continued his preparations with a practiced calm. "Don't worry," he said casually, "I've faced worse."
Maisa couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration at Darbakh's seemingly nonchalant demeanor, "You don't understand, these devils are different, and they're not alone. We need a plan."
Pendor groggily mumbled, his voice laden with confusion, "Why's my head hurt?" He hadn't yet realized that he'd been unceremoniously tossed to the ground.
Meanwhile, Darbakh emerged from his hole into the main chamber of the cave. Maisa's surprise spilled out in a hushed tone. "You suited up so fast!"
Darbakh didn't respond immediately. His gaze swept over the frightened refugees, their faces etched with terror. They were ordinary folk, unprepared for the horrors of Avernus. Finally, he turned to Maisa, his expression determined. "Stay with them," he instructed firmly, before heading out of the cave, ready to face the approaching devils.
Darbakh emerged from the cave's shadow and ascended the rocky hills, his movements deliberate and weighted with purpose. As he reached the lookout point, he saw Ulthian and the other half-elves huddled behind makeshift cover. The landscape before them was a stark portrayal of Avernus's desolation. Blood-red mountains loomed on the horizon, their sharp peaks a contrast to the hazy, melancholic sky.
Darbakh scanned the area with a practiced eye, taking in the grim tableau of this infernal wasteland. It was only a matter of time before he focused on the approaching threat.
Ulthian, perched on a boulder, turned to Darbakh as he approached. "You've come just in time," he said, his voice low and filled with tension. "We've got visitors."
Darbakh's brow furrowed as he examined the distant figures. "Devils?" he inquired.
Ulthian nodded gravely. "Three bearded devils and one barbed devil. They've been marching in our direction for the past half-hour. Slow and deliberate."
Darbakh's lips tightened in response. The situation was becoming clear, and he knew the urgency of the matter.
As the group gathered at the lookout point, a palpable tension filled the air. They maintained their vigilant watch, eyes locked on the approaching devils as they drew nearer.
Five broke the silence, his voice quivering slightly. "The refugees are... they're reading last rites over themselves," he said, concern etched on his face. Ulthian looked to Darbakh, his expression reflecting the growing unease.
Darbakh, however, remained composed, his face an unreadable mask. He issued orders to the half-elves. "Stay perched here, bows at the ready. Make yourselves visible to the devils."
Rising to his feet, Darbakh boldly stepped forward, exposing himself to the oncoming threat. The devils, three bearded devils and one barbed devil, halted their march abruptly. They crouched low, their spiky forms casting eerie shadows on the hellish landscape. Agitated chattering and frantic pointing among the devils ensued as they seemed to recognize Darbakh.
As the devils argued amongst themselves, their infernal voices growing louder, Five turned to Darbakh with a tense expression. "What's the plan?" he asked, his voice low but steady. The group at the lookout point was on edge, their apprehension palpable, yet not a trace of fear showed in their faces.
Darbakh took a moment to consider, his gaze locked on the devils below. He knew someone must stay behind to ensure the refugees' safety and evacuate them to the Wandering Emporium if the situation turned dire. He chose his words carefully, not directly stating his intent but leaving it hanging in the air. "Someone needs to remain here to watch over them.”
Five stepped forward, determination etched on his face. "I won't let you face this alone," he declared, his resolve unwavering. He glanced at his cousin, silently conveying his intent. A brief standoff ensued, but Darbakh finally conceded with a single, grim nod.
Ulthian, sensing the gravity of the situation, raised a hand to halt Darbakh's departure, but then withdrew it, knowing that the duergar had made his choice. Without another word, Darbakh began his descent down the hill, heading straight toward the agitated devils.
Darbakh and Five descended the hill with unwavering determination, their faces set in grim resolve. It was a stark contrast to the devils, who had started openly bickering amongst themselves. The bearded devils engaged in a brief, volatile shoving match, their usual infernal discipline seemingly shattered.
Despite the chaos, Darbakh and Five pressed on, their pace unwavering. The barbed devil, with its grotesque appearance, struggled to restore order among its subordinate devils. The mood was anything but the usual orderly demeanor of devils. Instead, it appeared as though these fiends were worn, fatigued, and oddly enough, less heavily armed than one would expect.
As they drew nearer, the scowls on the bearded devils' faces deepened, and tension hung thick in the air. Darbakh and Five had entered the midst of chaos, and the devils' bizarre disarray only served to heighten their unease.
Darbakh and Five came to a halt, their unwavering gazes locked onto the devils. The barbed devil spoke up, its voice carrying an unusual fatigue that went beyond the physical. In Common, it asked, "Name?"
The tension was palpable, not just between the two sides but also within the devilish ranks. It was evident that the bearded devils were subordinate to the barbed devil, though they didn't appear happy about it.
Darbakh met the devil's inquiry with stoic obstinance, refusing to answer. The barbed devil, its warning now laced with a sense of genuine concern, stated, "You...trouble...my subordinates."
Darbakh's response was curt, his tone unyielding, as he replied, "Sounds like your problem."
The barbed devil cleared its throat and began, "I want to...offer a pact." It glanced uneasily at the bearded devils and cautioned, "Don't react...loudly. They don’t understand Common."
Five responded impatiently, "Noted. Get on with it."
The devils appeared defeated, and the barbed devil continued, "An imp from the Emporium...it fled. Complained about you...an assault. No bounty on your head...yet. The imp is very upset."
Darbakh cut straight to the point, his voice terse, "How many of your kind care about what the imp says?"
The barbed devil replied wearily, almost offering friendly advice, "Not many...yet. But you, your flock, all won't survive if you cause problems for Avernus natives."
”How much do you want for killing that imp?”
Darbakh's question hung in the air like a heavy weight, visibly shocking the barbed devil, even though it tried its best to conceal its reaction from the bearded devils. It stammered, "Kill...the imp? Not possible. Other obligations, you see...it cannot be."
A tense silence ensued, Darbakh employing a power-play negotiation tactic by simply staring at the fiends, who all seemed to quiver under his gaze. Even the bearded devils grew anxious.
The barbed devil's voice trembled as it asked, "What…what are you doing?"
Darbakh, his tone calm and unwavering, noted, "You all look tired, injured, like easy prey."
Five tightened his grip on his spear, and the bearded devils began to shift uncomfortably, cursing softly.
The barbed devil, growing desperate, repeated its plea, "I want a pact."
Five chimed in, echoing the group's frustration, "You keep saying you want a pact, but you won't tell us what for."
The barbed devil, its fear palpable, finally relented and explained their plight. "We were attacked by demons, many of our kind died. We can't fight anymore."
Darbakh cut to the heart of the matter, his voice stern and without a hint of humor, "Were you planning to kill me?"
The barbed devil, now genuinely frightened, avoided a direct answer and simply repeated its plea, "I suggest a pact for mutual safety."
Darbakh's hand axe, a sidearm from his belt, loomed threateningly over the bearded devils, casting a long shadow, as he declared, "I have a pact for you."
Darbakh raised his hand axe, sending the bearded devils into a frenzied panic. However, it was the barbed devil who protested the impending conflict.
"Wait! Wait! This isn't necessary!" the barbed devil pleaded desperately, but its words fell on deaf ears.
Darbakh's aim was unerring. His axe found its mark low, sinking deep into the first bearded devil's groin. The injured devil writhed in agony, clutching its wounded area, dropping its glaive, and falling to the ground, shrieking in pain.
Before the other devils could react, Darbakh abandoned his maul and tackled the barbed devil to the ground. The bearded devils hissed and cursed as arrows from the half-elves above rained down upon them. Meanwhile, Darbakh pinned the barbed devil to the ground. Desperately, it tried to lash him with its tail, but his armor was too protective; none of its barbs could pierce through the sturdy splint.
In a vice-like half nelson hold, Darbakh forced the barbed devil to watch, rendering it helpless. "Please," it cried out with desperation, "I beg you, let us negotiate! I’ll be blamed for this!" As it watched the half-elves continue to pelt the bearded devils with arrows, the barbed devil's pleas grew more frantic.
However, Five moved in without hesitation. Ignoring the barbed devil's desperate protests, he executed the injured bearded devils one by one with precise thrusts of his spear, ending their afterlives.
Five waved for the half-elves to stop shooting, and Ulthian descended the hill to retrieve the arrows embedded in the fallen bearded devils. Darbakh released his grip on the barbed devil, but the creature made no attempt to rise. It lay there on the ground, defeated and aware of its own failure, staring down at the ashy, lifeless ground.
Darbakh felt no pity for the devil, and neither did Five, who remained resolute in his stance. Ulthian, however, gazed upon the pitiable creature with a mixture of empathy and doubt, silently questioning the wisdom of their actions.
Without a word, Darbakh picked up his maul once more and turned to the barbed devil, his tone tersely authoritative. "Here's what you're going to do," he commanded. "You will take the soul coins from your comrades and bribe that imp to stop talking about this dispute."
The barbed devil, still lying on the ground, began to voice its grievances. "You ruined me," it complained bitterly, its voice a mix of anger and despair. "I'll be demoted now. It was my responsibility to lead those bearded devils. You've destroyed my life!"
Darbakh, unmoved by the devil's lament, responded callously. "Not my problem."
The barbed devil's voice cracked with emotion as it continued, "You don't understand what it's like to be a fiend, to have ambition and dreams. You've taken everything from me!"
Darbakh remained unfazed, his tone unyielding. "I don't pity fiends."
The barbed devil's voice quivered as it continued to plead, "You don't understand! This afterlife was my last chance. There's nothing waiting for a dead devil."
Darbakh's response was curt and unapologetic, "I know."
Ulthian cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. Though visibly bothered by the half-elf’s interjection, Darbakh nodded for him to speak after a moment of irritable silence. "Perhaps... we could find some work for it, if it’s in danger over this defeat? Something far from the refugees."
Five, ever cautious, chimed in, "We can't let it anywhere near the refugees."
The barbed devil's desperation was palpable as it hurriedly added, "I can help! I'm skilled, resourceful. I could be of great use to you."
“Why would we need anything from the likes of you?” Five asked suspiciously.
It was clear the devil hoped to manipulate Ulthian's sense of pity, and its words came in a rush, one after the other. "You don't have to leave me destitute. Find an excuse for me, and I'll do anything you ask. I'll help you. Just please, please don't send me away from this mission empty handed. I was only supposed to be on patrol duty when I took that imp’s offer!"
Darbakh scowled deeply, spat on the ground at his feet, and then turned his gaze back to the barbed devil. His voice was cold and threatening, "Listen here, fiend. You follow these instructions to the letter, or I'll report you." He listed his demands, each one laced with a stern warning, "Take those soul coins from your dead comrades, bribe that imp into silence, and then find a nice spot to sleep in the dirt outside the Emporium. We'll come for you when we need you."
The barbed devil, its desperation evident, asked for assurance, "How do I know you'll hold up your end of the pact?"
In response, Darbakh offered no words, only kicking sand into the barbed devil’s face.
The mortals watched the barbed devil quickly and nervously loot its dead companions before fleeing, a parting reminder hanging in the air, "Remember, I'm doomed if you break your promise."
The awkward quiet lingered in the air after the barbed devil's departure. Darbakh broke it first, turning his gaze towards Five. "They came here for me," he muttered, acknowledging the obvious.
Five, ever pragmatic, replied, "Well, we can't dwell on the past now. We need to find a solution."
Darbakh's eyes fell upon the glaive dropped by one of the dead bearded devils. He couldn't help but think out loud, "We can't keep on like this, always on the defensive. What if we trained the refugees, turned them into a militia?"
Ulthian, respectful and deferent towards the duergar, couldn't hide his incredulity. "Train them for warfare? Are you sure about that, Darbakh?"
Five listened carefully, his contemplative gaze turning to Darbakh. After a moment, he nodded in agreement, "As much as it doesn't sit right, we can't keep relying on our own strength alone. We need all the help we can get."
The conversation reached its resolution as they all understood the necessity of the idea. They couldn't continue like this forever, and changes had to be made.
.
Darbakh - Duergar troublemaker [Pic 1] [Pic 2] [Story 1] [Story 2]
Quorian - half-elf watcher
PM me the word ‘tomato’
Enter: Princeps Kovik!
The flat, dusty expanse in front of the cave mouth was a stark reflection of Avernus's unforgiving nature. But despite the grim surroundings, there was a sense of resigned acceptance among the refugees. The oldest and youngest among them had gathered just outside the cave, working diligently to piece together armor from whatever scraps of leather and metal they could find. It wasn't a joyous endeavor, but it wasn't hopeless either.
Further away from the cave mouth, Five took charge. He had gathered a diverse group of more than a dozen refugees, spanning various ages and species, and arranged them into rows. With patience and determination, Five was teaching them the basics of marching, each holding a spear, even if some were nothing more than sticks with kitchen knives duct-taped to the ends.
There was no fanfare or celebration; this activity was a simple acknowledgment of their shared goal – to survive in the harsh landscape of Avernus.
Up on the hills, a sense of tension hung in the air. Darbakh and Ramona stood apart from the others, their voices low but firm as they engaged in an intense debate. The open expanse of Avernus stretched before them, a harsh and unforgiving landscape.
Darbakh looked at Ramona, his brows furrowed with determination. "Ramona, you're not seeing the bigger picture here. These refugees, they're not warriors. I get that. But in Avernus, it's fight or become prey. Every being, no matter who they are, defends themselves when threatened. It's basic survival."
Ramona, her expression one of concern, shook her head. "Darbakh, basic survival, yes. But forcing them into combat will only lead to more stress, more fear. Some of these boys you recruited, they're just too young for this. They're not ready to commit acts of violence."
Darbakh's gaze remained unwavering. "I don't want to force anyone into combat. But we can't be their protectors forever. We need to prepare them for what's out here."
Ramona sighed, her eyes reflecting her frustration. "Fine, have it your way, Darbakh. But you're not considering what this will do to them, to us. We're not soldiers, and these people aren't either."
The silence hung between Darbakh and Ramona, a palpable tension in the air. Darbakh, for a moment, let his guard down and noted her unease. "You're upset, aren't you?" he asked in a softer tone.
Ramona quickly denied it, a hint of defensiveness in her voice. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Darbakh sighed, his gaze focused on the barren landscape. "I didn't mean for all of this to happen."
Ramona's response was clipped. "All of what, exactly?"
Their conversation had reached an impasse, an unspoken disagreement neither was willing to concede.
Just as the silence became unbearable, Ulthian approached them, his expression troubled. He started to deliver his news but paused when he noticed the tension between Darbakh and Ramona, choosing his words carefully.
Ulthian hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of his report. "I've, um, got some news," he finally said. “Don’t panic.”
"Out with it, then," Darbakh replied bluntly, his impatience evident.
Ramona chimed in, her tone wry. "You know, starting with 'don't panic' usually makes people panic."
Ulthian flushed, his cheeks reddening. "Sorry," he mumbled, then continued, "The barbed devil from a few days ago is back. It's carrying a white flag, and there's another devil with it. They keep waving for permission."
Darbakh's brow furrowed in thought. "Should we shoot them?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
Ulthian, standing between civilian and soldier, didn't seem eager to resort to violence. His primary concern was the safety of the refugees, and that weighed heavily on him. He hesitated before asking for guidance, "What should we do?"
Ramona interjected, her voice carrying a tone of reason. "No, we shouldn't shoot. The fact that Mahadi was willing to help us is evidence that some of these devils are open to discussion." She glanced at Darbakh, her expression serious. "We don't need to resort to violence right away."
Darbakh mulled over her words for a moment before turning his attention to practical matters. "Should we hide their arrival from the others?" he asked.
Ramona nodded in agreement. "Yes, better to avoid scaring them any further. They're already uneasy about having to carry weapons."
Darbakh didn't respond further. Instead, he nodded and made his way down the hills to the flat plain where the devils waited. Ulthian started to ask if he should accompany Darbakh, but the duergar cut him off. "I'll handle this alone," he said tersely.
As he descended the hill, Pendor flew over and landed next to him. He hadn’t even remembered that his primal companion still existed. The fiend-turned-primal began loping along next to him on the ground. “Go back to the cave, Pendor.”
“I don’t want to go back. I want to help you,” the animal whined in the strange squeaking language which nobody else could understand.
“Pendor, go back to the cave and wait. Don’t contradict me in public,” Darbakh said harshly through the corner of his mouth.
The primal bat’s gargoyle-like face twisted into a grotesque frown, and crawled with his head hung low. However, he just hid behind a rock to watch the confrontation in secret.
Darbakh walked out onto the flat, desolate plain and saw a sight that baffled him. There, standing before him, was the same barbed devil he had confronted not long ago. But this time, the devil looked jubilant, adorned with makeshift trinkets crafted from bits of chain links. It was carrying a white flag and appeared genuinely happy to see him.
A Merregon devil at the barbed devil's side laid down its halberd and actually bowed to Darbakh as he approached. The barbed devil spoke first, its tone strangely amiable. "Ah, it's good to see you again, Darbakh. I've brought a friend." The devil's grin was unsettling.
Darbakh couldn't hide his confusion and suspicion. "What's going on here?" he asked bluntly.
“I’ve come to thank you!” the barbed devil exclaimed.
Darbakh crossed his arms, still deeply puzzled. "You're thanking me for getting rid of your subordinates? You fiends are always up to something." He wasn't buying it.
The barbed devil chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down Darbakh's spine. "Oh, Darbakh, it's not what you think. You see, they were a burden to me. Thanks to your actions, I'm now free of their incompetence."
Darbakh raised an eyebrow, his distrust evident in his voice. "And what does your freedom earn me?"
The barbed devil's demeanor remained unnervingly cheerful as it continued its explanation. "You see, Darbakh, I've found a new purpose, a new master. I serve Princeps Kovik now. They operate outside the infernal hierarchy, and life is so much better under their command. No more tedious orders from stuffy commanders."
The mention of this ‘Princeps Kovik’ made Darbakh even more wary. "So, what brings you here? Are you here to recruit more followers?"
The Merregon, who had been silent thus far, suddenly communicated to Darbakh telepathically, "All hail the incidence of violence!" It was as if the Merregon had started a fan club for the duergar.
Darbakh shook his head, finding the two devils and their bizarre conversation utterly absurd. His skepticism deepened as the barbed devil continued to speak with an unsettling cheerfulness.
"Kovik is a great warlord, you know," it said, emphasizing Kovik's independence. "They lead our group, just like you lead your refugees, without duchesses or dukes. We're kindred spirits, you and us."
Darbakh couldn't hide his annoyance. "Don't compare me to your kind. We're nothing alike."
The Merregon chimed in with its ethereal, disembodied voice. "Yes, you're right. We're not worthy."
Darbakh decided to cut to the chase, his patience waning. "What do you two want?"
The barbed devil's perpetual grin faded just slightly as it revealed their true purpose. "Kovik is a rival of Mahadi. They want to make a counteroffer for that artifact you hold."
Darbakh's skepticism lingered in the air as he demanded, "What do you know about the artifact?"
The barbed devil, still maintaining its odd cheeriness, responded casually, "Oh, nothing important, really. But Kovik wishes to negotiate with you in private. No witnesses, you see."
Darbakh's face contorted with a mixture of anger and contemplation. His first instinct was to reach for his weapon and eliminate the devils right there, but then a glimmer of opportunity crossed his mind. Perhaps he could turn this situation to his advantage.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and then replied, "Fine, I'll meet this Kovik. Right here, right now. Tell them to come alone, and my people will stay back if yours do too. But make it clear to them that if any fiend approaches while invisible to spy on me, I'll know exactly where it is and where to strike before it can react."
Darbakh's tone was stern and resolute as he issued his demands to the two devils. As he watched the two devils recede into the Avernus landscape, his mind buzzed with thoughts of the potential alliance with Kovik. He considered the risks and benefits carefully.
Approaching from behind, Ulthian's voice broke the silence. "Darbakh, what happened here?" he asked, concern evident in his tone.
Darbakh summarized the whole conversation as best he could, but Ulthian was aghast at the meeting with Kovik. Concern etched on his face, the half-elf voiced his worry. "Darbakh, be careful in your meeting with Kovik. We don't know what kind of devil this is."
Darbakh, his expression steely, replied, "I can handle a single devil. Besides, if it works out, this might be the leverage we need to ensure Mahadi keeps his word about the portal to Elturel."
Ulthian nodded, still uneasy but willing to trust Darbakh's judgment. "What should I do in the meantime?"
Darbakh pondered for a moment. "Stay with the lookouts for now. I'll see if this negotiation bears fruit before we involve Ramona."
Ulthian agreed and returned to his post, leaving Darbakh to contemplate the high-stakes meeting that lay ahead. Pendor landed swiftly next to Darbakh, and the tone in his voice hinted at jealousy. "What should I do, Darbakh? Ulthian got orders from you, and I want to help too."
Darbakh glanced at Pendor, clearly not in the mood for his whining. "Pendor, just leave me be for now."
Pendor persisted, his tone becoming increasingly annoying. "But Darbakh, I can do stuff! I'm not useless!"
With a sigh of exasperation, Darbakh relented, trying to get rid of him. "Fine, go follow Ulthian then."
Pendor's face lit up with joy, and he hurried off to join Ulthian, clearly desperate for Darbakh's approval.
Left alone, Darbakh settled on the dusty red ground, waiting patiently for what this meeting might hold.
A solitary figure gradually materialized from the dusty landscape, drawing closer to Darbakh. It was Princeps Kovik, the chain devil, warlord, and a figure of some intrigue in these parts. Kovik moved quietly and without any visible weapons. As they reached Darbakh, they lowered themself to sit on the ground, opposite the duergar.
Kovik's demeanor was quite different from the flamboyance of Mahadi. They appeared subdued, as if the relentless heat and misery of Avernus had taken a toll. Their eyes, barely visible through the intricate web of chains that obscured their face, conveyed weariness but still retained a sharp and calculating glint.
Breaking the silence, Kovik finally spoke, their voice slow and deliberate. "I prefer to speak directly and to the point."
Darbakh responded simply, "Good. What's this about?"
Kovik, matching his brevity, replied, "I know what you're carrying. I know Mahadi met with you."
"How do you know?" Darbakh asked.
Kovik's response came with a trace of dry amusement, "You assaulted an imp who then tried to hire me as an assassin."
"What was your reaction?" Darbakh inquired.
Kovik answered with a matter-of-fact tone, "I killed the imp."
Darbakh's curiosity piqued, he pressed further, "What do you know about what I'm carrying?"
Kovik replied, "You fit the description of the mortal who carries the damned puzzle box. I've heard of you even before Elturel was pulled down into Avernus. I didn't expect you to be among the city's residents. It can't be a coincidence that you're here. We can help each other."
Darbakh's suspicion still lingered, his eyes narrowed as he questioned Kovik. "Why should I trust another devil offering help?"
Kovik assured him, "I'll be honest, it's fear that brings me here. You know of Mahadi's problems with a certain genie, correct?"
Darbakh, cautious but intrigued, replied, "How do you know that?"
Kovik explained, "I'm only guessing that Mahadi told you, but it's an educated guess. I have my own problems with a certain horned devil."
"The one named Malgog," Darbakh interjected.
Kovik confirmed, "Yes, Malgog, the horned devil trapped in the other side of the puzzle box. Just as Mahadi has his issues with the genie. The specifics don't matter. What matters is that we both want something, and together, we can make it happen."
Darbakh pondered the offer for a moment before asking, "So, you want me to release the genie and trap the horned devil in exchange for your help?"
Kovik's reply was resolute, "Yes, that's exactly what I need. If it's the other way around, I'd be in grave danger."
Darbakh, keen on the details, inquired, "What are you offering in return?"
Kovik, with a glint of curiosity, shot back, "What has Mahadi offered you, so I can match it?"
Darbakh leaned in slightly, explaining, "Mahadi is providing food and water for my people, the refugees left behind when Elturel returned to the prime material plane. He's also working on finding a way to create a portal for us to return."
Kovik paused, a long silence lingering between them, before they finally asked, "How strongly do you believe Mahadi will keep his promises?"
Darbakh's voice was laced with skepticism as he replied, "I don't believe Mahadi will do anything good.”
The Princeps nodded. “Mahadi won’t because he can’t. If a portal is opened between Faerun and the Nine Hells, what do you expect to happen? Angels won’t even need to descend on this land for punishment; archdevils would stop Mahadi first just to avoid a conflict with celestial forces. His proposal is a non-starter.”
“He warned me about those problems too,” Darbakh said, a cynical outlook mapped all over his face.
Kovik nodded, acknowledging Darbakh's sentiment. Then, in a tone that carried a strange mix of honesty and sinister intent, they said, "Let me level with you, Darbakh. I don't want you or the mortals here in Avernus either. If they die here, they could become martyrs and end up in the upper planes. If they return to your world, however, they might live good lives, but they could also become sinners condemned to Hell, which would be beneficial for devils like me."
Darbakh couldn't help but bristle at Kovik's calculating reasoning. But Kovik quickly reassured him, saying, "I'm not trying to convince you of my point of view. I don’t need you to join us. I just want you to understand that helping the refugees is in my self-interest." With that, the chain devil lapsed into an expectant silence.
With an annoyed expression, Darbakh questioned, "You expect me to rely on your self-interest?"
Kovik, however, remained unfazed. "Indeed," they replied calmly. "My self-interest ensures my cooperation with you. Would you truly trust me at my word alone?"
Darbakh's face grew grim as he realized Kovik had a point. "So, what am I to do with my people?" he asked. "What can you offer?"
Kovik's demeanor remained quiet, almost tired, as they made a counter-offer. "My warriors, outcast devils who don't answer to the infernal hierarchy, know this land well," Kovik explained. "I'll have them patrol the perimeter of your hideout, to distract or eliminate any threats. Meanwhile, I'll use my contacts to find a more reliable way to get your people back to Elturel on Faerun. It's in my self-interest as a devil." With that, Kovik fell silent, waiting for Darbakh's response.
Darbakh nodded in agreement. "Protection is all well and good, but it doesn't solve our immediate problem of food and water."
Kovik's eyes, barely visible through their wrapped chains, held a knowing glint. "I doubt Mahadi will put much effort into solving your portal problem. He's a businessman, after all. He'll likely delay any solution until he can entrap your people into debt servitude."
Darbakh's irritation was palpable. "That's not a solution," he grumbled.
Kovik leaned in slightly, their voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "Perhaps you could turn the tables, my friend. Entrap Mahadi into providing more food and water. Find a way."
The conversation hung in the hot, dusty air as Darbakh considered Kovik's suggestion. In a moment of shared understanding, the conversation hung in the air, both Kovik and Darbakh lost in their thoughts.
Without a word, Kovik slowly stood up. "I'll give the order for my warriors to start patrolling the area. You'll see we can be reliable allies."
Darbakh, always one to consider the worst-case scenario, couldn't help but ask, "And what if I decide to double-cross you and release Malgog?"
Kovik met his gaze without hesitation. "In that case, there won't be much of a future for me anyway. Upholding my end of the deal is the most rational choice." As Kovik turned to leave, they paused and turned back to Darbakh. "One last piece of advice, my friend. Mahadi asks you to trust him. I'm only asking you to trust your own instincts."
With that, Kovik began the slow walk back to the ditch. Darbakh remained seated on the dusty ground, his mind churning with thoughts and possibilities.
.
Darbakh - Duergar troublemaker [Pic 1] [Pic 2] [Story 1] [Story 2]
Quorian - half-elf watcher
PM me the word ‘tomato’
Ramona sighed, her voice filled with exasperation. "I don't see why we're hesitating. Mahadi has offered us food, water, and a way back home. We should accept his help. We can't rely on someone like Kovik."
Five, standing tall with his arms crossed, shook his head. "And I don't see why we should trust either devil. But we can't rely on a traveling salesman. Kovik at least has warriors who can protect us. It's not about trust; it's about necessity."
Darbakh, always the pragmatist, leaned forward. "Ramona, you're too trusting. Five, you're too short-sighted. We can use this situation to our advantage. Mahadi and Kovik are vying for our support. Let's make them work for it."
As Ulthian approached the trio, a sense of apprehension hung in the air. Their discussion had led them nowhere, and they knew that bad news was about to follow. Without a word, Ulthian delivered the unwelcome message.
"Mahadi is here," Ulthian said solemnly. "He's come to our camp, and he's brought a dozen halfling porters carrying gifts."
Darbakh's brow furrowed, his skepticism evident. Ramona exchanged a worried glance with Five, who wore a similar expression. The trio's trust in Mahadi was waning, and this unexpected visit only fueled their doubts. Even Ramona looked guarded upon hearing the news.
“Should I remain at the lookout point?” Ulthian asked expectantly.
“That might be a good idea,” Five replied. “These fiends are getting less and less predictable. I don’t like it.”
As Darbakh, Ramona, and Five walked toward Mahadi's setup, they couldn't help but be impressed by the splendor that had been arranged on such short notice. Mahadi had spared no effort in his attempt to woo them. Brightly colored tarps stretched overhead, casting shade and providing a hint of coolness amidst Avernus' relentless heat. Luxurious carpets covered the ground beneath their feet, and soft cushions were arranged in a semi-circle, offering comfort in this unforgiving land.
Mahadi's porters worked with precision, setting up a table laden with refreshments that gleamed with temptation. Platters of succulent fruits, chilled wines, and exotic pastries adorned the table. The air carried the scent of spices and roasted meats, a stark contrast to the dusty, acrid aroma of Avernus.
Mahadi welcomed them with a wide, charming smile. "Ah, my dear friends, I'm delighted you're awake. I have splendid news to share," he declared with enthusiasm, his tone radiating cheerfulness. "I've made significant progress on your request to leave Avernus. Please, have a seat so we can discuss this over some refreshments."
Ramona and Five exchanged skeptical glances but chose to comply. They found cushions and settled themselves amidst the grand display of gifts and comfort that Mahadi had orchestrated. Their expressions were cautious, guarded.
Darbakh, on the other hand, remained standing. His eyebrows furrowed in displeasure, and his tone was blunt, bordering on rudeness. "Why all this show? Why not invite us back to your Emporium to discuss it?"
Mahadi offered a gracious smile, undeterred by Darbakh's lack of decorum. "Ah, my friend Darbakh, always direct and to the point. I brought this humble setup to demonstrate my sincerity and goodwill. You've entrusted me with a weighty task, and I wanted to assure you of my commitment." He gestured to the cushions and the table laden with refreshments, his tone filled with warmth.
Darbakh settled down onto a cushion, and Mahadi's demeanor shifted instantly. His face beamed with jubilance, but there was something in the rapidity of his speech that caught Darbakh's keen sense of observation. Ramona and Five, on the other hand, noticed nothing unusual, just Mahadi's usual exuberance.
As Mahadi started his presentation, the trio's attention was drawn to a series of woven carpets, each one meticulously adorned with pictures and diagrams that formed the visual backbone of his proposal. With a flourish, Mahadi pinned the carpets onto a nearby tripod, arranging them in a neat sequence for the trio to examine. Mahadi's enthusiasm carried on as he delved into the details of his plan. He described a rare and intricate method of casting the gate spell, one that he claimed could effectively address their concerns regarding celestial interference. His fingers pointed to various sections of the woven diagram, tracing the complex steps with precision.
"In this version of the gate spell," he began, his voice filled with the excitement of revelation, "we employ unique reagents and extend the casting time, making it vastly different from any standard incantation. The result? A portal leading straight to Elturel on the prime material plane. But here's the beauty of it," he exclaimed, gesturing at the woven diagram, "it's not just any portal. It's a portal restricted by alignment. Only beings with truly good hearts will be able to pass through."
Mahadi paused for effect, letting the implications of his words sink in. "This means, my friends," he continued, "no fiends can use it. And perhaps more importantly, it might just offer an escape for other good souls trapped in Avernus."
His gaze shifted from one member of the trio to another, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "With this solution, we've circumvented the celestial interference completely," he declared, a note of finality in his voice, as he awaited their response.
Ramona's reaction to Mahadi's news was immediate and visceral. As the words sank in, her eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat. Her hands trembled slightly as a warm sensation of relief and joy washed over her. It was as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders, and for a moment, the harsh reality of Avernus seemed to fade into the background. She looked light-headed, almost euphoric, her gaze filled with gratitude.
Five's reaction was more contained but no less profound. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes fixed on Mahadi. His normally stoic expression was etched with disbelief and a hint of hope. The hobgoblin, known for his pragmatism, was rendered temporarily speechless by the unexpected turn of events. He seemed to be processing the implications of Mahadi's proposal, his mind racing with possibilities.
However, Darbakh's skepticism remained steadfast. Unimpressed by the gifts and the promises, he crossed his powerful arms over his chest and fixed Mahadi with a stern gaze. With a nod towards the wooden chests filled with provisions, he challenged the archdevil's intentions. "If your solution is as solid as you claim," Darbakh said, his voice laced with cynicism, "why the need for all this?" He gestured towards the supplies, his suspicion evident.
Ramona's voice held a gentle urgency as she pleaded with Darbakh, saying, "Please, Darbakh, let's not attack him verbally. This is the solution we've been waiting for."
In response to Darbakh's challenge about the supplies, Mahadi, with a touch of anxiety in his tone, explained, "The provisions are a gift, a token of goodwill for your patience."
Darbakh, unrelenting, raised an eyebrow and countered, "If this solution is as dependable as you claim, open the gate now."
As the tension in the conversation escalated, Five tried to mediate, interjecting with a calm voice, "Darbakh, let's not be rude."
Darbakh triumphantly presented the infernal puzzle box, drawing everyone's attention to it. Mahadi visibly cringed at the sight, recoiling from the box's malevolent presence. Ramona, her voice filled with concern, had pleaded, "Darbakh, please, put that away. We needed to stay civil if we wanted his help."
Unyielding, Darbakh had maintained his stern demeanor and demanded, "Tell me, Mahadi, what was the catch? There's always a silver lining in your plans."
With a sigh, Mahadi, now a bit more combative, had explained the looming issue, "A portal restricted to good-aligned beings would attract evil creatures, particularly the demons of Yeenoghu. They'd come for us." Ramona and Five had shared alarmed glances as the gravity of the situation became clear. Mahadi, still on edge but desperately seeking their cooperation, had reassured them, "Give me more time to find a solution to that problem."
Ramona and Five exchanged worried glances, their expressions mirroring their deep concern. Ramona, her voice laced with anxiety, declared, "This problem makes this plan a non-starter."
Five added somberly, "As it stands, we don't have a solution at all."
Mahadi, sensing he was losing the support of the two who had initially sided with him, grew increasingly dismayed. He attempted to shift the dynamics by adopting a more aggressive tone. "I've been nothing but generous," he argued, his voice rising with frustration. "I'm working tirelessly to find a solution. But it's hard to concentrate when I'm being constantly browbeaten." He tipped his head in Darbakh’s direction.
The duergar remained silent, his fingers dancing over the intricate patterns of the puzzle box's buttons. Mahadi, increasingly nervous, couldn't help but ask, "What are you doing?"
Ramona and Five watched in rapt attention as Darbakh, with a hint of a sardonic sneer, replied, "I've had this cursed box for about fifteen years now. You pick up a few tricks." As he deftly manipulated the levers and bars on the box, he continued, "For instance, I can generate a projected image of the prisoners. They can speak freely, but they won't actually be released."
The realization slowly dawned on Mahadi, his eyes widening with fear as he understood the implications of Darbakh's actions. The scene concluded with a tense air, as the trio prepared for the prisoners' projected image to speak.
The puzzle box creaked open slightly, just enough for a thin wisp of red smoke to slither out. In the midst of the trio, a projected image began to coalesce - the face of an efreeti, a genie from the fiery depths of the elemental plane. It was a frightening sight, the efreeti's visage blazing with the malevolent power of an entity accustomed to granting curses and spreading misery.
This efreeti, named Karzoth, was a name that sent shivers down Mahadi’s spine. An unpayable debt weighed heavily upon the fiendish merchant, and Karzoth was the one he feared above all.
As Karzoth's fiery image took shape, Mahadi hastily retreated, seeking shelter behind a nearby chair. The porters, in sheer terror, scattered in all directions, leaving behind the gifts they had brought. Even Ramona and Five, usually resolute in their demeanor, looked visibly concerned in the projected image of this malevolent genie.
"The genie can't hear or see us," Darbakh asserted firmly. He regarded the fearful projection of Karzoth, the malevolent efreeti, with a touch of satisfaction. "Consider this a reminder, Mahadi, of what a few buttons on this box can do."
Mahadi, trembling, dropped to his knees, his face a picture of desperation. He pleaded, "Please, Darbakh, have mercy! I promise to do whatever you ask, just close the box and erase this image!" His voice quivered with fear as he sought to escape the wrathful presence of Karzoth.
With a few clicks of buttons, Darbakh fulfilled Mahadi’s request, but not before stiffening his upper lip. “Don’t ever talk back to me again,” he ordered. With a deliberate movement, Darbakh closed the infernal puzzle box, causing the image of the malevolent efreeti to dissipate like smoke. He glanced at Mahadi and spoke in measured tones, "Kovik reached out to us, and that's why you're here, isn't it?"
Ramona, her voice filled with exasperation, interjected, "Darbakh, please, let's not turn this into another argument."
Ignoring Ramona's plea, Darbakh focused on Mahadi, his expression stern. "Kovik had some interesting things to say about you, Mahadi."
Mahadi, visibly shaken, finally confessed with a hint of resignation, "It's true that Kovik has a vendetta against me, but believe me, they’re a liar and cannot be trusted. They’ll betray us all."
"Mahadi," Darbakh began, his voice stern, "Aren't you also hiding details from us?"
Ramona interjected once more, this time with a plea, "Darbakh, please, be civil."
Mahadi, his demeanor pleading, chimed in, "Darbakh, please, calm down. I've provisioned your people as a gesture of goodwill. I'd appreciate some goodwill in return."
Darbakh's gaze remained unyielding. "The fact that Karzoth hasn't been released is goodwill enough, Mahadi. Find a true solution before Kovik's next visit."
Five, shaking his head, couldn't help but feel a pang of embarrassment at Darbakh's unyielding cruelty.
Mahadi, shoulders slumped in defeat, nodded at Darbakh's demand. He collected his presentation and, followed by his porters, departed with a heavy heart. The lavish gifts and colorful tarp remained, abandoned in the dusty wastes of Avernus.
Ramona, her voice filled with frustration, let her anger show. "Darbakh, that wasn't fair! You can't just derail the conversation like that."
Darbakh, unyielding, retorted, "Mahadi concealed his own knowledge of Kovik. Who knows what else he's hiding? We can't trust fiends."
Five, his tone a mix of calm and indignation, posed a pointed question to Darbakh, "Do our opinions matter to you at all?"
Darbakh, torn between his stubbornness and his disappointment in himself, remained silent. He watched as Ramona and Five exchanged disappointed glances and then turned to make their way back to the cave.
As they walked away, their voices carried the weight of their disappointment. "I can't believe he acted that way," Ramona murmured.
Five, equally disheartened, replied, "Me neither. I thought he'd understand."
Darbakh stayed behind, alone in the fading light of Avernus, bitter at the situation and his own actions.
.
Darbakh - Duergar troublemaker [Pic 1] [Pic 2] [Story 1] [Story 2]
Quorian - half-elf watcher
PM me the word ‘tomato’
Channeling the sad feels because they’re a part of the roller coaster.
Darbakh sat perched atop a solitary boulder, overlooking the desolate plain of Avernus. The landscape stretched out before him, a vast expanse of rust-colored earth under stormy skies. Lightning danced on the horizon, and distant tornadoes twirled like malevolent sentinels. It was a place as barren and turbulent as his thoughts.
Here, away from the cave and its inhabitants, he had sought solitude to confront the truth he had long avoided. The weight of his decisions bore down upon him, and he felt the bitter contradiction of his actions. His intention had always been to safeguard the group, but his approach had been domineering and authoritarian.
Darbakh knew he had overstepped, that his friends were justifiably angry with him. His stubbornness had become a barrier to communication, preventing him from admitting his faults and making amends. He was torn between the desire to protect them and the realization that he had stifled their autonomy.
As the tempest raged in the distance, it mirrored the turmoil within him. The desolation of Avernus mirrored his feelings of isolation and self-doubt. The boulder beneath him offered no comfort, and the storm above offered no solace. Darbakh's gaze remained fixed on the tumultuous plains, the landscape an apt reflection of the tumultuous battle within his own soul.
In this desolate, introspective moment, Pendor, Darbakh's loyal primal animal companion, sensed his master's inner turmoil through their deep magical bond. With a quiet grace, the creature approached Darbakh, understanding that something was amiss. As Pendor landed softly beside Darbakh, he watched the duergar closely, his intelligent eyes mirroring the concern he felt for his master. With an innocence only found in creatures of nature, Pendor inched closer to Darbakh.
In a simple yet profound gesture, Pendor attempted to nuzzle his head under Darbakh's hand, seeking comfort and connection. It was as if he understood that sometimes, a touch, a moment of connection, could help ease the weight of the burdens carried in the heart.
In the midst of his introspective turmoil, Darbakh remained unmoved by Pendor's attempt at comfort. As the loyal primal animal companion leaned in, seeking solace in their connection, Darbakh's arm moved with a cold, thoughtless detachment. He grabbed Pendor by the ear, a gesture as casual as one might toss a pebble for amusement, and carelessly tossed the bat to the ground.
There was no joy in Darbakh's action, no satisfaction or amusement. He remained seated, unfeeling, as if he had discarded an insignificant object.
Pendor, stunned and hurt, lay sprawled on the barren ground, his eyes reflecting a profound sense of betrayal. Struggling to comprehend the inexplicable act of callousness from his master, he lifted his head from the dirt. His eyes bore the unmistakable look of betrayal as he gazed up at Darbakh, questioning just one word, a word heavy with anguish: "Why?"
Darbakh, still absorbed in his own inner turmoil, remained unresponsive for a moment. Finally, with an indifferent tone and without even glancing at Pendor, he replied in three curt words, "Felt like it."
Pendor's confusion deepened, and he stammered out his true question, his voice quivering with hurt, "No, I meant... Why do you hate me?"
It was only then that Darbakh tore his attention away from his thoughts, his brow furrowing in confusion as he looked down at Pendor, not comprehending the accusation that had just been hurled at him. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice laced with bewilderment.
As Darbakh's gaze finally settled on Pendor, he couldn't help but notice the watery sheen in the bat's eyes. The creature lay there, still in the dirt, unmoving, not bothering to get up or dust himself off. It was a different kind of hurt, one not borne of physical pain but something far deeper.
Pendor, his voice laden with a vulnerability that Darbakh had rarely seen in his animal companion, repeated the question, his tone pleading, "Why do you hate me?"
Darbakh shifted uncomfortably on the boulder, his stern facade cracking as he gazed upon Pendor's wounded expression. Emotions were a tangled web that he had never been adept at navigating. Admitting fault, showing vulnerability - these were alien concepts to him.
The realization washed over him that his thoughtless action, tossing Pendor to the ground as if he were an inconsequential object, had been needlessly mean. But in the face of this newfound awareness, Darbakh felt a sense of helplessness. He didn't know how to apologize, what words to use, or even what actions to take to make amends. His own stubbornness and pride had become his shackles, binding him to a self-imposed isolation.
For a moment, Darbakh's gaze fell to the barren, rust-colored ground, and he wrestled with his own insecurities. He wanted to mend what he had broken, but the path ahead seemed obscured by his own limitations.
Darbakh's response came, but it was not delivered with his usual certainty or confidence. "I don't hate you," he said, his voice trailing off.
Pendor, still lying in the dirt, questioned with a sincerity that cut through Darbakh's defenses, "How can you say you don't hate me when you treat me so badly?" There was no accusation in Pendor's words, only the innocent confusion of someone who genuinely couldn't understand what they had done wrong. "Why do you treat me this way if you don't hate me?"
Darbakh began, struggling to find the right words, "Pendor, I don't hate you. I might be... harsh sometimes-"
Pendor, now genuinely confused and hurt, interrupted with a squeaky and increasingly frantic voice. "But I've been good! I've been loyal, followed orders, stayed by your side!" His voice wavered with emotion. "You yell at me, always put my ideas down, throw me like... like an object!" His voice shook as he continued, "You made fun of how I chew food in front of the refugee children, said it's stupid. How can that even be related to intelligence? Why do you make me look bad in front of everyone?"
In a low, remorseful voice, Darbakh muttered, "I don't know why I do those things, Pendor."
Pendor's frantic demeanor only intensified. "But if you don't know what I've done wrong, how can I avoid it?" His voice quivered with desperation. "We're bonded, our souls connected. You saved me from the brink, but now my essence is tied to yours. I have no options, nowhere else to go, nobody else to live with." His eyes welled up with sadness and frustration. "I'm condemned to serve someone who never thinks I'm good enough."
Darbakh stared at Pendor, finally realizing the gravity of his actions, but he was at a loss for words. He cautiously suggested, "Maybe there's a way to sever our bond."
Pendor's eyes filled with tears at this remark. He trembled and asked, "Do you... do you want to get rid of me?"
Darbakh's face contorted with discomfort. "No, Pendor, I didn't mean it that way."
But Pendor was already distraught. "Then why?" he sobbed. "Why don't you want me around? Why does nobody want me around?" His voice quivered with despair as he continued, "Why didn't Tiamat save me? Why don't you want me? Why am I cursed to live in a world where I only exist to be hurt?"
Pendor's distress was palpable, and he was nearing a nervous breakdown. In a bewildered tone, Darbakh finally asked, "Were you hurt when I threw you onto the ground?" He was just starting to grasp the emotional pain he'd inflicted upon his loyal companion.
Pendor reached a breaking point with Darbakh's bewildered question. ”What the…no! That’s not what…how can you be so obtuse?” His voice quivered with a mixture of frustration and despair as he responded, "No, not physically. I'm hurt inside, Darbakh. Don't you remember what I told you about my condition when we first met?”
Darbakh recalled that Pendor had been injured, likely suffering from internal bleeding. But Pendor shook his head vigorously. "That's not what I meant," he said, his voice cracking. "I meant... I face abuse from you all day, every day. I'm never calm enough to face my trauma. Have you ever considered your words, Darbakh? You spoke about the cruelty of humans when we discussed the Yeenoghu cultists. Did you ever ponder what my situation must feel like?"
Pendor's voice trembled as he recalled his past as an abishai. "They pulled me from the sky with harpoons," he said, his eyes filled with tears. "For a flying creature, being yanked to the ground and swarmed... It's as traumatic as pinning a prey animal belly-up."
Tears streamed down Pendor's face as he continued, his voice choked with emotion. "The cultists... they did unspeakable things to me. They forced me to watch the statue of Tiamat at my shrine while they defiled it, then they took away my sight - that was only the beginning of what they did. I cried out to Tiamat for help, but she didn't answer. Nobody answered!"
His sobs grew more pronounced as he revealed his deepest fears. "At night, I wanted to sleep next to you, Darbakh, the only person I have left in this world. I can't close my eyes in the dark. When I do, I remember being helpless, blinded, as they dismantled me. It feels like the cultists are still inside of me, digging with their fingers and pulling pieces of me out..." He continued to pour out his pain through tearful words. "The pact... it gave me a new body, but I'm not the same. It's like the pieces they took from me were reassembled in the wrong order. Some parts are missing, others are misplaced. I don't know where I fit anymore..."
His voice quivered as he spoke, reliving the torment he had endured. But then, Darbakh, awkward and unsure, reached out and hugged Pendor. At first, it was an unfamiliar gesture, mechanical and unpracticed. His hug was like a wrestler’s body lock at first, and the duergar tensed up like he were performing a series of steps under an inspector’s gaze. However, as Darbakh loosened his embrace, Pendor's words fell silent. Old, long lost memories of a truant father and a prodigal son were etched into Darbakh’s muscle memory, and even the uncomfortably hot air of Avernus was forgotten as old experiences were remembered. After ignoring his initial bristling reaction, the duergar almost felt relaxed while holding a smaller, emotionally attached being in his arms.
Pendor cried softly for a while longer, but the warmth of Darbakh's embrace began to soothe his broken spirit. His breathing gradually evened out, and he found a measure of comfort in Darbakh's arms.
Finally, Darbakh spoke, his voice filled with remorse. "I did wrong, Pendor. I'm so sorry." The duergar felt something change within him as he apologized. His racing heart began to slow, a tingling sensation crept across his forehead, and a wave of relaxation washed over him. He looked at Pendor, the little creature who had been crying, and asked, "What did you do?"
Pendor blinked, surprised by the question. "What do you mean?"
Darbakh gestured vaguely while trying to explain the newfound calmness he felt. "This strange feeling. It's... different. Like you casted a charm spell, but those don’t work on me.”
Pendor gave a small, knowing smile on his mammalian snout. "That's probably happiness, Darbakh. That’s what people feel when they say sorry and mean it."
Darbakh paused, absorbing Pendor's words. Then, he picked up the bat-like creature, holding him like a loyal dog. "Thank you, Pendor. I think I understand now. And I promise not to punish you for my own disappointment.” As he walked back toward the cave, the primal animal clung to him like a pet being carried. ”I know what I need to do for everyone else, too.”
.
Darbakh - Duergar troublemaker [Pic 1] [Pic 2] [Story 1] [Story 2]
Quorian - half-elf watcher
PM me the word ‘tomato’
In the sheltered alcove amidst the rugged crags and hills of Avernus, four figures sat in quiet anticipation. The small meeting area, tucked away from the harsh winds and the ever-present haze, had become a makeshift haven for the refugees. Ramona and Five, though resigned, wore expressions heavy with discontent, their usual banter reduced to a heavy silence.
Ulthian and Maisa, who had joined them for this gathering, exchanged glances filled with uncertainty. They had no knowledge of the rift that had formed among their leaders in recent days, unaware of the disagreement that had left Ramona and Five disheartened.
Darbakh nodded at his companions as he and Pendor approached the meeting area. "Thank you all for coming," he began, his voice carrying a solemn tone. He glanced at Ramona and Five, whose subdued demeanor didn't go unnoticed.
Ulthian, a crow perched on his shoulder, and Maisa, with a distant look in her eyes, greeted Darbakh. "What's this meeting about, Darbakh?" Ulthian inquired casually, unaware of the undercurrents.
Maisa chimed in, her tone just as curious, "Yes, we were wondering why we were called here."
Darbakh cleared his throat, struggling to maintain composure. "We've got some important matters to discuss," he replied cryptically, not wanting to reveal the ongoing discord among the leaders just yet. "But before that, how's everything on your end, Ulthian? Any signs of trouble?"
Ulthian shook his feathery head, seemingly unfazed by the brewing tension. "Nope, all clear so far," he replied, his focus on his ongoing scouting duties. "A few minor disturbances from wandering devils, but nothing we couldn't handle."
Maisa added, "I've been helping the injured refugees, trying to make sure everyone's as comfortable as possible. There's a shortage of medical supplies, but we're making do."
Darbakh nodded, appreciating their efforts. He turned his attention back to Ramona and Five. His voice, usually commanding, was unusually low as he began, "Ramona, Five... I know you're both upset with me, and you have every right to be."
Ramona and Five remained silent, their expressions a mix of hurt and frustration.
Darbakh continued, "I've made mistakes as a leader, and for that, I'm truly sorry. You, and all the refugees, deserve better." He could see the skepticism in their eyes, but he pressed on, determined to make amends. "I apologize for ordering half the refugees to form a militia without asking for their consent. It was wrong of me to make such a decision without your input."
Ramona and Five exchanged a glance but stayed quiet, allowing Darbakh to continue.
"I also apologize for deciding to play Mahadi and Kovik against each other without consulting anyone else first. It was reckless, and it put us all at risk," Darbakh admitted, his voice filled with remorse. The weight of his actions settled heavily on him as he finally addressed the last issue, "And threatening Mahadi unilaterally, without unity, was a mistake. I see that now."
Ulthian and Maisa exchanged a quick glance and then both nodded in acceptance of Darbakh's apology. Ulthian spoke up first, his voice light, "No worries, Darbakh. We've all had our moments."
Maisa chimed in, "That's right. We're a team, and teams make mistakes."
Ramona and Five, on the other hand, were more cautious in their response. Ramona offered a small, hesitant smile. "Thank you, Darbakh, for acknowledging your mistakes. It means a lot."
Five nodded in agreement, adding, "We know you're the most experienced among us, and we trust your judgment. But please, Darbakh, remember to involve all of us in decisions. We follow your lead because we respect your capabilities, so respect our input too."
Darbakh absorbed their words, realizing that his actions had affected not only their trust but also the unity of the group. He nodded solemnly, understanding the need for better communication and teamwork. "You're right. I'll do better, and I promise to include all of you in our decisions from now on."
Five's observation hung in the air, a stark reminder of their predicament. He looked at Darbakh, his eyes searching for answers. "So, what's our next move?"
Darbakh shrugged in a carefree manner, and he felt like a boulder slipped off his back. "I don't know."
The uncertainty in Darbakh's response left the group puzzled. Maisa leaned forward, her brows furrowing. "Why did you call this meeting, then?"
Darbakh met their gazes, his voice sincere. "Because I've been doing too much talking and not enough listening. If I were to gather you all here just to present my own ideas, it would contradict the apology I just made."
Amid the uncertainty that hung in the air, Ramona felt a glimmer of optimism. Darbakh's newfound respect for their opinions buoyed her spirits. Cautiously, she raised her hand and, when she had everyone's attention, she began.
"I have a comment," Ramona started, restating the positions she and Darbakh had previously held - her support for Mahadi and Darbakh's plan to play the fiends against each other. "While Darbakh's approach may have been reckless," she continued, "the core idea was sound. Instead of choosing sides between Mahadi and Kovik, why not seek a compromise? We can persuade both of them, along with those trapped inside that infernal puzzle box, to work together for a solution that gets us all out of Avernus and back to Elturel."
Five appeared skeptical, and he voiced his concerns. "What's stopping the two fiends from conspiring if we work with both of them?" he asked, a hint of suspicion in his tone.
Ramona nodded, understanding his worry. "That's a legitimate concern," she admitted. "But remember, each of these fiends fears a different monster trapped in Darbakh's puzzle box. They have no common ground there. Their interests will either pit them against each other or force them to cooperate. If they could have worked together, they would have done so already."
Five considered her words, and after a moment, he nodded in agreement.
Maisa chimed in, though, with a more cautious perspective. "While I understand the idea, we don't know enough about the otherworldly magic and politics at play here. Forcing a compromise may not be as straightforward as it sounds."
Ramona remained resolute in her stance. "Remember what we've learned since arriving in the Nine Hells," she said, addressing Maisa's concerns. "This is a place built on contracts, pacts, and bargains. The genie in that box, who also happens to be Mahadi's enemy, hails from the City of Brass, a realm equally entangled in pacts and agreements."
Darbakh nodded in confirmation, recalling his interaction with the genie's projected voice. "Yes, that genie did mention the significance of contracts in its realm," he confirmed. “I’m able to speak to both monsters while they’re in the box.”
Ramona continued, her voice steady. "We can use our knowledge of these beings and the rules they abide by to compel them into an agreement that serves everyone's interests."
Five, now intrigued by the idea, leaned forward and asked, "What kind of agreement are you thinking of, Ramona?"
Ramona took a sturdy stick and began to draw a complex diagram in the gritty sand of their meeting spot. She carefully illustrated a series of concentric circles, each representing one of the key players: Karzoth the efreeti, Malgog the horned devil, Kovik the chain devil, and Mahadi the enigmatic fiend.
With practiced finesse, she created lines connecting these circles, depicting the various desires, animosities, and interests that intertwined among them. Her confident demeanor made it clear that this strategic thinking was reminiscent of her days managing her business.
Turning to the group, she assumed the role of a determined teacher. "We need to list everything we know about what these creatures want," Ramona declared, gesturing to the intricate diagram. "Their desires and motivations may overlap or contradict each other, but that's where we can find an opportunity."
As she concluded, she looked at each member of the gathered group – Darbakh, Five, Maisa, and Ulthian. "We have nothing else to do except brainstorm," she continued, her tone serious. "If we can't find a way out of Hell, we know what will happen."
Maisa wondered aloud, ”How could we possibly persuade Mahadi and Kovik, two fiends, to negotiate sincerely? Even if we devised a brilliant compromise, what motivation would these two have to deal with us genuinely?”
Without a moment's hesitation, Ramona replied, her confidence unwavering. "Bringing Mahadi to the negotiating table will be up to me and Five." Her eyes met those of her companions, conveying a silent determination.
Five seemed a bit taken aback. "Why us?" he asked, curious about her choice.
Ramona's answer was clear and concise. "Darbakh needs to apologize to Mahadi. However, it should be indirect, through us, to avoid any further alienation."
Darbakh looked slightly embarrassed but nodded, understanding the wisdom in her words. Maisa then redirected the conversation. “What about Kovik?” she asked.
Ulthian, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "I see Kovik every day, patrolling our hideout for danger. I can approach them and discuss the situation."
The group exchanged glances and nods of agreement. It seemed settled that while Mahadi might require a delicate touch, Kovik would be the easiest fiend to bring to the negotiating table.
Intrigued by the challenges that lay ahead, Maisa asked, "Are there any details we might have overlooked, Ramona?"
Ramona chuckled and replied, "I don't know; you should be telling me. If I knew that we overlooked something, then I’d look at it."
Ulthian, his curiosity piqued, inquired, "What about the efreeti and horned devil trapped inside that puzzle box? How do we involve them?"
Ramona reassured them, "Darbakh has a way to project their image or voice without setting them free. That shouldn't be a problem."
Five, ever the pragmatist, delved into the nitty-gritty, asking, "What about the specifics of the compromise to return us to Elturel? Fiends are notorious for their deceit; they might slip in tricky language to confuse us."
An uneasy silence hung in the air until Darbakh nudged Pendor forward. He spoke up, "Pendor here, my primal companion, has experience with such matters. He can inspect any agreements for deception."
Pendor gazed up at Darbakh, a sense of pride shining in his eyes. Darbakh remained stoic, his demeanor unchanging, but Pendor was pleased to be included in the group's plans.
A brief, contented silence hung in the air as they all considered the potential of their new strategy. For the first time in a while, a glimmer of hope emerged from the depths of Hell.
Finally, breaking the silence, Darbakh stood up and declared, "Let's get to work."
.
Darbakh - Duergar troublemaker [Pic 1] [Pic 2] [Story 1] [Story 2]
Quorian - half-elf watcher
PM me the word ‘tomato’
A resolution to multiple conflicts.
Darbakh and Five sat quietly within the spacious tent, the heavy silence contrasting with the otherworldly chaos outside. A mild breeze carried the sulfurous scent of Avernus, where red skies stretched endlessly, punctuated by swirling storms.
In the distance, they saw Mahadi and his halfling porters approaching. Mahadi seemed hesitant, his steps measured as he approached Darbakh. The hobgoblin leader remained composed, his gaze fixed on Mahadi's every move.
As Mahadi drew near, Darbakh rose from his cushion, a solemn acknowledgment of the meeting's significance. Five, his ever-watchful companion, remained seated, a vigilant presence.
Mahadi cleared his throat, his voice laced with a touch of unease. "Darbakh," he began, "I appreciate your willingness to meet like this."
Darbakh nodded, his eyes locked onto Mahadi. "We need to discuss our situation. Let's not waste time."
Mahadi's entourage shuffled nervously in the background, their eyes darting between the two leaders. Mahadi, however, took a step forward, his voice a shade more confident. "I received your written apology for the previous misunderstanding. I appreciate it."
Darbakh inclined his head slightly. "Consider it a gesture of goodwill, Mahadi. Now, let's focus on finding a solution to our shared predicament."
Kovik's arrival was a stark contrast to Mahadi's cautious steps. The chain devil appeared unaccompanied, their imposing figure silhouetted against the fiery backdrop of Avernus. Unlike Mahadi, who comfortably settled onto a cushion, Kovik chose the humble carpet beneath them, a deliberate show of indifference to their surroundings.
Mahadi greeted Kovik with a friendly smile, his words warm with civility. "Kovik, my old friend, it's a pleasure to see you again. We've been waiting for this opportunity to talk."
Kovik's response was silence. They remained stone-faced, their eyes fixed on the ground. No pleasantries were exchanged, no courtesies offered.
Five, noticing the palpable tension, cleared their throat and addressed the situation. "We appreciate your presence, Kovik. But we aren't the ones who will be presenting our proposal today. We're waiting for more representatives to arrive."
Then, a different kind of energy entered the space. Ramona, Maisa, and Ulthian approached together, their steps measured and purposeful. They hadn't been part of the earlier discussions, and both Mahadi and Kovik were taken aback by their presence.
Mahadi's curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn't help but voice his inquiry. "Well, this is quite the gathering. What do these new representatives have to share with us today?"
Ramona, with a nod of acknowledgment, stepped forward to address the assembly. "Thank you for coming, Mahadi, Kovik. We appreciate your willingness to join us for this discussion. We believe that working together can lead to a resolution that benefits everyone involved."
Ramona's voice carried conviction as she addressed the assembly. "The leaders of the refugees have held consultations, and we believe there is an opportunity for all of us here to find a mutually beneficial solution."
Mahadi leaned forward with genuine interest, but Kovik, their eyes tangled within the chains, wore an expression of stark bewilderment. Kovik didn't mince words, asking, "What could we possibly have in common with Mahadi?"
A small, knowing smile graced Ramona's lips as she replied, "I'm glad you asked that question." With that, the stage was set for her to unveil her proposal, a plan that could bridge the gap between these seemingly disparate parties.
Ramona stood in the midst of the assembly, her demeanor methodical and patient. "Let's clarify our needs," she began. "Mahadi, you want to protect your business interests from Karzoth, correct?"
Mahadi nodded, his eyes firmly fixed on Ramona.
"Kovik, you need to secure your warband from Malgog's influence," she continued, turning her attention to the chain devil.
Kovik gave an affirming nod, their chains clinking softly.
Ramona then addressed her friends. "And we all agree that the refugees need a way back to the prime material plane, correct?" Both Maisa and Ulthian nodded in agreement.
She concluded with a smile, "Satisfying all these needs is simpler than trying to address any one of them in isolation." It was a powerful statement, framing their negotiation as an opportunity to address multiple concerns at once.
Ramona presented her proposal with a calm and measured tone. "Here's what we suggest: The refugees require a portal back to Elturel, something Mahadi is capable of creating. However, this would undoubtedly attract demons due to the magic involved. We need armed protection from these demons, which Kovik and their warband can provide.
"To make this plan work, we'll need a specific location for the portal, ideally a broad, flat hill, which will require fortification. Kovik's warband, with their extensive knowledge of Avernus, is in the best position to locate such a hill. And fortifying it? Well, that's where Mahadi's laborers come in."
Ramona paused to let her words sink in before concluding, "The needs of the refugees can only be met if Mahadi and Kovik work together. Alone, neither of you can provide a solution that ensures the safety of the refugees. Cooperation is the key."
Mahadi listened attentively, recognizing the logic in her words. After a brief moment of contemplation, he spoke up. "Your proposal makes sense, Ramona. But what can the refugees offer to both sides in return for our cooperation?"
Ramona acknowledged Mahadi's question with a nod and a slight smile. "Thank you for asking, Mahadi," she said graciously. Then, turning her attention towards Darbakh, she continued, "Darbakh has extensive knowledge about the nature of the infernal puzzle box, which can provide an answer to your question."
Darbakh, his voice measured and confident, continued Ramona's line of thought. "The compromise lies within the nature of the infernal puzzle box, which I've come to understand over the past fifteen years. This box, it contains not just one, but both of the beings you seek to control – Karzoth and Malgog. If I release one of them unconditionally, the other will be eternally trapped."
He paused, realizing he had delved into this explanation without involving Mahadi and Kovik in the conversation. His gaze shifted between the two fiends, and he asked with a hint of concern, "Do both of you understand the implications of the box so far?"
Mahadi's brow furrowed as he considered Darbakh's words. "I understand," he said cautiously, looking directly at Darbakh.
Kovik, on the other hand, simply nodded, their expression unreadable (mainly due to the chains).
Darbakh cleared his throat, grateful for the encouragement from Ramona. "You see," he continued, "the unconditional release, as I mentioned, would require one of you to die." His words hung heavily in the tense atmosphere of the tent. He could feel Mahadi's skeptical gaze on him, which prompted Ramona to nudge him gently.
"But," Darbakh went on, "I believe there's an alternative, a way to avoid any loss of life. I have a unique connection with both Karzoth and Malgog. I can communicate with them without actually releasing them, which has allowed me to gain insights that the two of you may not possess."
Darbakh cleared his throat and continued, "You see, we were so focused on the idea of unconditional release that we ignored another possibility. Why not a conditional release?" He raised an eyebrow, pausing for dramatic effect.
The two fiends, Mahadi and Kovik, exchanged puzzled glances. Mahadi was the first to speak, his voice filled with skepticism, "Conditional release? How would that even work?"
Kovik chimed in, their tone equally doubtful, "And what kind of conditions were we talking about here?"
Darbakh smirked slightly, realizing he had their attention now. "Ah, well, that's where our proposal gets interesting," he said. "We devised a plan, my friends, a way to bypass the trapping mechanism of the infernal puzzle box. Instead of an unconditional release, we would negotiate a set of safety conditions for the two entities inside."
Mahadi leaned forward, intrigued despite himself. "Safety conditions? Go on."
Kovik, still skeptical but curious, nodded for Darbakh to continue.
Darbakh continued, explaining the safety conditions with their full attention. "I'll compel these trapped monsters by releasing their voices first, one at a time," he explained. "It's crucial that neither of them can interact with the other. By isolating them, we can propose the conditions without the risk of them conspiring."
Kovik, still attentive, asked, "And what if one of these monsters decides to argue against our conditions?"
Darbakh replied confidently, "In that case, I'll falsely threaten to trap them forever. They won't have the means to resist."
Kovik stared intently at Darbakh, their piercing gaze demanding answers. Ramona nudged Darbakh, a subtle reminder to address Kovik's question about the specific conditions. Darbakh, with a newfound focus, nodded and cleared his throat, ready to explain. Just as he began to speak, Five handed Darbakh a note, listing the carefully thought-out conditions. Darbakh glanced at the note, then back at Mahadi and Kovik, who were growing increasingly impatient.
With the conditions in hand, Darbakh reviewed them and asked a few questions under his breath, ensuring every detail was in order. The tent was filled with a tense silence as everyone awaited the next steps in this critical negotiation. Darbakh took a moment to clear his throat before listing the conditions they would compel Karzoth to accept.
"First, Karzoth must forgive all debts he owes to Mahadi," he began, his voice flat as if reading off a list. "Second, Karzoth is forbidden from willingly entering either the Nine Hells and the Prime Material Plane. If, by any chance, he finds himself in either realm through means beyond his control, he must leave immediately. Lastly, Karzoth shall disengage entirely from the affairs of Mahadi, myself, and the people of Elturel."
As Darbakh detailed these conditions, Mahadi's eyes sparkled with anticipation. He turned to the group of mortals - Darbakh, Ramona, Five, Ulthian, and Maisa - and enthusiastically declared, "This is everything I've ever wanted. I'll provide any assistance needed to ensure Karzoth accepts these terms."
Darbakh turned his attention to Kovik, who had been silently waiting. He began to list the conditions for Malgog.
"First," Darbakh said, "Malgog can return to the Nine Hells, but he's forbidden from entering Avernus. If he's brought to Avernus against his will, he must immediately leave to a different level of Hell. Second, neither Malgog nor any devil under his command can interact with or report on you, Kovik, or your warband. Lastly, Malgog must cease all interactions with me, the refugees, or anyone else from Elturel."
Kovik paused for a moment, considering the terms. Finally, they responded, "I'll agree to help if you can compel Malgog, but I have my doubts that he'll accept these conditions willingly."
Darbakh's expression remained stern, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes at Kovik's doubt. He turned his attention back to the puzzle box.
"We'll see about that," he murmured quietly.
With careful manipulation of the infernal puzzle box, Darbakh summoned a projected image of Malgog, the horned devil. As the fiery, menacing figure materialized before them, Maisa couldn't help but flee to Ulthian's side, seeking comfort in his protective embrace. Five tensed up, his features hardening.
Kovik, who had exuded an air of confidence until now, shifted nervously where they were sitting, their demeanor suddenly less assured. Malgog's infernal visage was a sight to behold – fiery eyes, curling horns, and a leathery, scaled body adorned with sharp, wicked spines.
In a voice dripping with false politeness, Malgog spoke, "Ah, Darbakh, I knew the day would come when you'd contact me again. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"
Darbakh's voice was curt but not overtly rude as he addressed the horned devil. "You owe the unexpected pleasure to your release. I've grown weary of this blasted box."
In response, a surprising transformation overcame Malgog's visage. The horned devil, typically an embodiment of evil, appeared tired, relieved, and even somewhat grateful. Malgog's fiery gaze softened, and he nodded appreciatively. "Thank you for your understanding." However, he was a devil, and no interaction came without a price. Malgog inquired, "What do you desire in return?"
Darbakh didn't hesitate. "A pact, witnessed by Mahadi. It's time to end this chapter."
Malgog's twisted grin only widened as he questioned the presence of Mahadi. "Mahadi, an official notary for infernal contracts? Truly fascinating. Isn't it a scandalous little secret that he is, in fact, a rakshasa disguised as a human?" Malgog's words dripped with amusement, and he took clear pleasure in revealing this tidbit.
Ramona, Ulthian, and Maisa all looked to the rakshasa-in-disguise with questioning suspicion written all over their faces. Mahadi squirmed uncomfortably, his fiendish facade momentarily slipping into embarrassment and indignation.
Ignoring Mahadi's objections, Malgog turned his attention back to Darbakh, maintaining his feigned politeness. "Now, my dear Duergar, what are these conditions you propose? I'd be ever so eager to hear them." As Malgog's image conversed with Darbakh, Kovik, who remained unseen by Malgog, sat in dumbfounded disbelief at the sudden turn of events.
Darbakh firmly restated the conditions, his voice carrying the weight of finality. "Malgog, you are to stay out of Avernus at all costs, refrain from any hostilities against Kovik or his warband, and leave me and the people of Elturel in peace."
Mahadi, with a sly grin, conjured an infernal contract in the air, the parchment made of shimmering, crimson essence, and began writing the terms with a flaming pen.
Malgog, looking tired yet agreeable, readily accepted the conditions. "I agree to these terms, Darbakh," he said with an air of finality. "You may sign my name as power of attorney, Mahadi."
As Mahadi wrote Malgog's name upon the contract, the horned devil's signature appeared in flames, sealing the pact.
However, Kovik, who had been observing this whole exchange with a mix of astonishment and incredulity, muttered under their breath, "I should have demanded more."
With the pact now sealed, Darbakh stated firmly, "The deal is done. Malgog, if you would, wait for a moment inside the puzzle box."
Malgog, his resentful gaze locked on Darbakh, nodded grudgingly. The true malice of a horned devil shone through his devilish visage. He reminded Darbakh with a tone of warning, "The deal has been signed, dwarf. I will wait, but be mindful, for there will be consequences now if you don't release me."
Darbakh, brushing off the threat, replied with a hint of impatience, "Don't get your nickers in a bunch."
This audacious response from Darbakh seemed to both offend and amuse those present. Five couldn't help but let out a chuckle, while Malgog, his rage growing, never had the chance to respond. Darbakh swiftly shunted the horned devil back into the puzzle box before he could utter a further word.
Darbakh, undaunted by the malevolent presence he was about to unleash, deftly manipulated the puzzle box once more. Slowly, the ghastly projection of Karzoth began to materialize. Karzoth's visage was nothing short of terrifying - the embodiment of hatred and tyranny. His fiery eyes burned with a malevolence that sent shivers down the spines of those who witnessed him. Even Ramona, who could usually conceal her reactions, looked almost regretful for what had been set in motion.
Mahadi, visibly shaken and afraid, dropped his flaming pen, its flames extinguishing as it hit the ground. Unlike Malgog, who had reluctantly agreed to the terms, Karzoth was unyielding. His voice resonated with command, a cruel demand directed squarely at Darbakh. "Let me out of this infernal prison, you wretched mortal!"
Darbakh's voice grew stern and disciplinary as he addressed the malevolent genie. "You will be released when and where I please," he declared firmly.
Karzoth, unrelenting and aggressive, retorted, "You are required to release me!"
Annoyance laced Darbakh's tone as he snapped back, "Keep quiet and listen to the terms for your release."
But Karzoth, full of defiance, refused to yield. "I will not be compelled."
Mahadi, observing this exchange with a mixture of apprehension and frustration, remarked, "You see what I have to deal with?"
Karzoth, unable to see anyone around him but hearing Mahadi's voice, snarled, "I recognize that voice, Mahadi. I promise to tear Avernus apart until I've extracted what I'm owed."
Darbakh sighed, his patience waning. "You're not even capable of doing that," he retorted, but Karzoth remained undeterred, swearing vehemently that he would. Frustrated, Darbakh threatened, "I'm about to release Malgog and trap you forever if you don't shut up and listen."
Karzoth continued his furious rant, his voice growing louder and more venomous by the second; one of Mahadi’s porters actually fainted. But Darbakh had had enough. He deftly manipulated the puzzle box, silencing Karzoth's image. The genie's face contorted with anger as he realized he could no longer speak. His eyes blazed with fury, but his voice had been abruptly silenced. Darbakh leaned back and told everyone to wait. "He'll get tired of yelling at nothing eventually," he remarked confidently.
Karzoth's rage-filled tirade continued for a few more minutes, but eventually, even the most relentless anger runs out of steam. Five sighed in relief, and Kovik looked like they were about to doze off.
When Karzoth finally stopped shouting, Darbakh cleared his throat and addressed the seething efreeti's image. "Now, listen carefully, Karzoth. If you ever want to see the light of day again, here are the terms. You will not set foot in either the Nine Hells or the Prime Material Plane, and you shall never take any actions against the interests of myself or the people of Elturel. Furthermore, you must forgive all of Mahadi's debts."
Karzoth's image remained silent, but his face contorted with rage as if he were still yelling, his fiery visage blazing with impotent fury.
Darbakh interrupted Karzoth to say that he was releasing Malgog now, but Karzoth raised his hands to stop Darbakh. Darbakh then manipulated the box to let Karzoth speak again and asked if he had any last words.
Karzoth's image flickered, and for a moment, the fiery rage in his eyes was replaced with contemplation. The whole group leaned forward, hanging on the genie's every word. After a long and tense pause, Karzoth finally spoke, his voice seething with anger and resignation.
"Very well, Duergar. I... agree."
A collective sigh of relief escaped from the group, and Darbakh nodded in satisfaction. He proceeded to manipulate the puzzle box once more, sealing Karzoth's image within, but this time without the furious rants.
Mahadi wasted no time. As a collective sigh of relief swept through the group, he urgently wrote down the details of the contract, his pen nearly catching fire from the speed of his writing. With a flourish, he signed off on it. As he tried to hand the contract over to the group, Pendor swooped down, landing gracefully on the table. With surprising dexterity for a creature of his kind, he took the contract delicately in his mouth and began to peruse it.
Mahadi furrowed his brow at this unexpected interruption.
“What's this all about?" he asked.
Darbakh, always composed, replied smoothly. "Before the representatives of the refugees sign anything, we need our professional consultant to review the terms."
Mahadi chuckled dismissively. "A professional consultant? This is an animal, not a lawyer!"
Everyone in the tent seemed to collectively ignore Mahadi's protests as Pendor, the bat, continued to scrutinize the contract with keen interest. It was a bizarre sight - a creature more accustomed to flying through moonlit skies than reviewing legal documents.
After a moment, Pendor let out a series of high-pitched clicks and chirps, catching Darbakh's attention. With an almost knowing nod, Darbakh leaned closer to Pendor, listening intently. “There’s no assurance that these two fiends won’t attack your people as soon as the portal is open. They’re only compelled to bring you to the location and open the portal; we need to force them to see this through to the end without any tricks.”
Of course, nobody understood the animal companion’s speech except for Darbakh. He straightened up and turned to Mahadi, his expression serious.
"We need to add a clause," Darbakh stated firmly.
Mahadi raised an eyebrow, still perplexed by the entire situation. "A clause? What kind of clause?"
Darbakh leaned in and made his demand clear. "A clause that prevents you, Kovik, and us from fighting each other."
Kovik, who had been observing this exchange, spoke up. "That should have been in there from the beginning."
Mahadi laughed uncomfortably, scratching his head. "Ah, yes, it seems I overlooked that minor detail by mistake."
With a hint of annoyance in his eyes, Darbakh watched Mahadi as the fiend begrudgingly added the clause to the contract. The tension in the tent seemed to ease as Mahadi, with a hint of reluctance, added the requested clause to the contract. Pendor and Kovik both scrutinized the document carefully. After a thorough inspection, Pendor issued a series of approving clicks and chirps, indicating that the contract was now safe.
Kovik wasted no time and signed for their formidable warband. With a sense of responsibility and determination, Darbakh, Ramona, Five, Maisa, and Ulthian all stepped forward as representatives of the refugees and added their signatures to the parchment. With a faint, magical poof, the contract disappeared, leaving behind a sense of anticipation and resolution in its wake.
As the weight of their signed agreement settled in, Ramona was the first to break the silence. "So, what's the next step?"
Kovik, their enigmatic ally, took a moment to ponder before responding. "I can lead my warband to a nearby hill. It's broad, flat, and steep, making it highly defensible."
Mahadi, always ready to offer his services, chimed in. "I can dispatch my laborers to assist you right away."
Kovik, however, raised a cautioning hand. "Let's hold off on that for now. I'll get back to you once I’m sure of the location’s defensibility."
Meanwhile, Darbakh's attention was focused on the infernal puzzle box once more. As he began manipulating it, a collective unease washed over the group, the memory of the fiends trapped inside fresh in their minds.
Mahadi, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, interjected, "Perhaps it's time to leave before Darbakh decides to release those...unpleasant guests."
Darbakh assured him with a hint of wryness, "You're all perfectly safe, thanks to the contract."
Mahadi, not willing to take any chances, shook his head adamantly. "I'd rather not see Karzoth face-to-face. I'll be on my way."
The rest of the group nodded in agreement, no one eager to face the wrath of the imprisoned monsters. The pact was made, but the less they had to deal with its fiendish signatories, the better.
The tent gradually emptied as one by one, the various parties made their exits. Mahadi, flanked by his loyal halfling porters, nodded politely to Darbakh before departing. The lure of the Emporium called him back to his realm of deals and bargains.
Kovik, their enigmatic demeanor undiminished, rose from their cushion and strode off purposefully. Their warband awaited, and decisions needed to be made.
Ramona, Five, Maisa, and Ulthian left as a group, their animated chatter and relieved expressions filling the air as they discussed their next steps. They headed back toward the cave, eager to share the good news with the refugees.
Amidst these departures, only Darbakh remained, seated with an air of satisfaction. Pendor fluttered down and perched on a chair next to him. Together, they watched the last of their guests vanish into the Avernus wasteland.
Darbakh's eyes bore into the infernal puzzle box, an object that had haunted him for the better part of his life. It had been fifteen long years, and this accursed artifact had dominated his existence. A perpetual curse, it clung to him like a shadow, whispering sinister promises whenever he tried to sleep. At first, he despised the box, but with time, he'd grown accustomed to its malevolence, learning to live alongside it like one learns to manage a chronic illness.
Now, as he stared at the puzzle box, perched on the cusp of freedom from its clutches, Darbakh couldn't help but feel a mixture of disbelief and hope. He had found a way to rid himself of this relentless torment. The prospect was almost surreal.
He turned to Pendor, who was seemingly aware of the gravity of the moment. "You know, Pendor," Darbakh began, his voice low and contemplative, "for all these years, this damn box has ruled my life. A curse I couldn't rid myself of. Those two monsters inside...they've never stopped whispering. They interrupt my sleep, promising things I know I can’t ever have. And every time I tried to get rid of that box, it would be waiting for me in the corner of my vision, as if it hadn’t ever moved."
"I've grown to hate it," Darbakh continued, his gaze never leaving the box, "but also to accept it, in a strange way. But now...now that I've found a way to break free..." His voice trailed off as he contemplated the life awaiting him beyond the box's malevolent influence.
“Do not to linger, Darbakh; don’t allow the two imprisoned creatures within to exert their influence. Release them conditionally, and move on,” Pendor said. “Don’t be trapped in a bubble just because change is uncomfortable.”
Darbakh nodded in agreement, acknowledging his companion's wisdom. He took a deep breath, his fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over the infernal puzzle box. He muttered, "Here goes nothing," and then, with a determined press, activated the mechanism for a conditional release of Malgog.
The air seemed to shimmer with an eerie energy, and the puzzle box emitted a faint, otherworldly hum. Slowly, the box's lid creaked open, revealing a swirling vortex of crimson and black. From within, a monstrous form began to emerge.
Malgog stepped out from the puzzle box, his imposing figure casting a long shadow on the ashy ground. He stood tall, his crimson skin gleaming under the oppressive Avernus sky. With a sense of relief that transcended his infernal features, Malgog raised his clawed hands toward the horrific, blood-red skies.
"Thank you," Malgog's voice rumbled, a strange mixture of gratitude and malevolence. He turned to Darbakh, his eyes filled with an unsettling blend of emotions, and said, "For seeing reason."
It was an oddly civil exchange between a devil and a mortal, devoid of any parting words. After all, they had been bound by a curse for fifteen years, and now, finally free, Malgog wasted no time. With a powerful leap, his leathery wings unfurled, and he took to the skies, searching for a passage that would lead him out of Avernus and down to yet another wretched level of Hell.
Pendor chimed in, "That was strangely anti-climactic."
Darbakh couldn't help but nod in agreement, his eyes fixed on the departing form of Malgog. It was indeed a surprisingly calm departure for a creature of such infernal power who’d been imprisoned for so long. With a resigned sigh, the Duergar decided it was time to complete the final act of this ordeal.
Turning his attention back to the puzzle box, Darbakh pressed the button once more, initiating the conditional release of Karzoth. The box shuddered, and the lid slowly opened, revealing the simmering whirlpool of fiery essence within.
Karzoth, the malevolent efreeti, emerged from the box, but his entrance was markedly different from before. Instead of anger and demands, he knelt before Darbakh, his towering figure bowing in submission. The flames that danced across his fiery form were now subdued, flickering with a subdued intensity.
In a voice that carried the weight of his realization, Karzoth confessed, "You... you got the better of me."
It was a moment of vulnerability for the once-tyrannical efreeti, acknowledging defeat in the face of a mortal who had outwitted him. Darbakh couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief and triumph as he gazed up at the subdued genie.
Darbakh nodded at Karzoth's admission of defeat. "It doesn't matter now," he replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion.
Karzoth, freed from the confinements of the puzzle box, seemed more resigned than resentful. “Now I can return to my dominion…outside your plane, of course.” He stretched his fiery limbs and commented, "I need to find that no-good Genasi grandson of mine."
Before parting ways, the efreeti turned to Darbakh and offered a final piece of advice, his tone surprisingly earnest. "Listen well, mortal. In the infernal dance of Avernus, never forget that trust is a fragile ember in this plane of treachery. Beware the ire of Mahadi."
Darbakh raised a curious eyebrow. “You were literally threatening me just moments ago. What you’re saying about Mahadi also applies to you.”
"You might think of both me and Mahadi as outsiders, mortal, but we are not the same," Karzoth remarked, his fiery eyes fixated on Darbakh. "All three of us are outsiders to each other, true, but Mahadi is different. I am an efreeti, a genie of an elemental plane. My desires, though they may seem tyrannical, are simple, and they are rooted in the fires of my realm. A genie desires freedom above all else, and I only threatened you because you stood in the way of that; now that I’m free, I have no qualms with you. My temper wanes as quickly as it waxes."
He paused for a moment, allowing the weight of his words to settle in. "Mahadi, on the other hand, is a fiend. His desires are complex, convoluted, and always at odds with mortals. You would do well to remember, Darbakh, that any fiend you deal with, unlike an elemental like me, wishes to do you harm intentionally rather than incidentally."
With those parting words, Karzoth's fiery form gradually dissipated into the tumultuous winds of the Astral Plane, leaving Darbakh alone to contemplate the wisdom and warning of the efreeti.
Darbakh stood there for a while, the weight of Karzoth's words sinking in. With the two outsiders released, the infernal puzzle box finally disintegrated, as if acknowledging its purpose had been fulfilled. It was as if a boulder had been lifted from Darbakh's shoulders, and he exhaled deeply, feeling true relief for the first time since he and the refugees had fallen into Hell.
Without another word, he turned away from the now-empty tent, leaving behind the remnants of their negotiations. As he walked away, the tent stood silently against the infernal winds that blew over the dusty plains of Avernus, a testament to the momentous agreements struck within its confines, and the newfound hope that had been kindled amid the harshest of realms.
.
Or is it?
Darbakh - Duergar troublemaker [Pic 1] [Pic 2] [Story 1] [Story 2]
Quorian - half-elf watcher
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