Arc 9 Chapter XXVIII: Uninvited Visitors (Patreon)

A beat of silence went by as the man bid his welcome, and then under unspoken agreement all four adventurers reached for their weapons, Lae'zel being the swiftest among them as she lunged for their 'host' with not a blink of hesitation and a war cry on her lips.

Her efforts only served to slightly miff her opponent for she had ruined his presentation, and in his irritation he simply slapped the sword away before the whole chamber was filled with an aura of awe and terror, forcing all of the guests on their knees.

"Now, now." The man spoke in a perfectly calm tone "Is that any way to treat one's host?"

"Devil." Wyll whisper-growled to himself, and quickly unsummoned his sword. No point in showing it off unless it was to stab the thing in the neck.

"Oh yes, how dreadful of us." Astarion drawled despite the fact he was still barely managing to glare up at him under the metaphysical weight, grinning a fanged grin at the man "Why don't you come closer and I will show you just how polite I can be?"

The apparent Devil's face twitched into not quite a sneer as he looked the rest over "Are the rest of you also bent on this meaningless defiance? Or can we talk like civilized folk? I assure you, you will not be harmed."

Lae'zel hissed angrily but before she could say something they would all regret, Gale cut her off "Fine. We accept your hospitality."

The rest immediately snapped their looks to him but seeing his confident look, no one tried second guessing him.

The devil tilted his head before humming lightly "Good." The pressure disappeared as if it were never there. He motioned for them to get up before speaking again "I, am Raphael, and I have been watching your group for some time now."

"Does Zariel's obsession have no end?" Wyll asked with a scoff.

"Zariel?" Raphael blinked, before letting out a disdainful bark of laughter "Please, that creature could not compel me to do something if she offered me her soul. No, I was simply drawn by the delightful tale surrounding your escape from the Mind Flayers. Like something from a fine play, I must admit."

"Ah, so we just happen to attract devils wherever we go?" Astarion quipped.

"Cambion, actually." Raphael corrected with a raised finger, his human form disappearing behind a flash of flame and revealing a horned, bewinged, and red-skinned half-devil "But yes, you are an interesting collection." He smirked "And doubly so your master."

Astarion's own expression turned anticipatory "Why not invite him then? I'm sure he will make far better company than mere servants?"

"One can never be too cautious." Raphael shook his head, easily ignoring the bait "Besides, it is you who I wish to extend an offer-"

"Oh let me guess." The vampire cut him off, relishing the barely perceptible twitch of irritation on the cambion's face "You've heard about our little guests, and the being the good samaritan that you are, you just couldn't help but offer a solution?"

"My, how flattering." Raphael drawled, dismissively fanning his face as he did "Unfortunately I am possessed of no such generosity. All I will offer you when the time inevitably comes, is a fair trade. One service for ridding you of your executioner." He spread his arms in dramatic proclamation "Until then, make your attempts, cry, and rage, and fight. I will make the offer again, when the time is right."

Astarion slowly blinked before sharing a quick look with everyone else.

Seeing the mortals before him barely even reacting, and not immediately falling on their knees with the pleas to save themselves, Raphael felt his ire rising but held it down for now "Now as much as I would like to play host, I have no time to entertain such rude guests. Begone."

He waved his hand dismissively, and a circle of fire formed below his 'visitors', dragging them outside of his domain and back to the prime material plane almost instantly.

Thanks to that small delay, Gale had just enough time to see the shadow coiling behind the self admitted half-devil, a dagger of terrible power pointing at the hellspawn's jugular with the creature being none the wiser.

-

The moment his 'guests' disappeared Raphael felt a deep chill going down his spine, the distinct sensation of being watched from every direction possible swiftly wracked a terrible toll on his paranoia as he began twitching uncontrollably.

His eyes snapped left and right as his breathing became labored but he still could not find the source of the feeling.

It was entire minutes before he accepted the futility of the act, and he allowed himself to slump into one of the chairs of the dining table he had so meticulously prepared for his visitors.

"What in the Styx's cursed waters is going on?!" He growled, before rapidly blinking as he finally found something out of place.

A simple letter sealed with an odd beetle like symbol and purple wax of all things.

He cursed at his trembling hands as he reached for it, unfolding it to reveal calligraphy that was beyond perfect, and did nothing to reduce the effect of the words within.

"Touch my things again, and I will never have a reason to come down there a third time."

Raphael wasn't sure how long he stared at the letter, but his horror at being infiltrated so easily was slowly but surely overtaken by a growing wrath, and with a furious scream of rage he incinerated the letter, throwing the dining table at a nearby wall and shattering it.

So distracted was he, that he failed to notice another letter of the same make appearing tucked into his belt.

-

The four adventurers appeared at the exact spot they were taken from, smelling of brimstone, and all of them feeling exhausted from that short distraction.

"That thing was powerful." Lae'zel said, sounding oddly detached.

"Too powerful for us to face as we are." Wyll agreed "Thankfully all he wanted to do was prepare us for future manipulation, place the idea of accepting his help in our heads while letting us flounder."

"And how can you know that?" The Gith asked.

Wyll's eyes momentarily twitched to the rapier now sheathed at his hip "I simply do."

"That seems foolish." Gale shook his head "He can't be sure we won't be rid of the tadpoles on our own."

"In his mind it should be pretty much impossible." Wyll agreed "In ours too as well, if we didn't know what we know. Or rather, who."

"Point." Gale nodded "He did only 'contact' us when we were far enough away from Reyvin's protection."

"Hm." Astarion made a silent but notably annoyed noise at that.

"Something the matter?" Gale asked him "You look... off."

"He said he had us marked." Astarion answered simply "And yet when we were taken he was nowhere to be seen."

Wyll frowned "You think he left us to die on purpose?" He shook his head "He can't be everywhere at once, and we are the ones ultimately responsible for our own survival."

"Can't he?" The vampire asked, part of him hoping he was simply paranoid, and the other feeling disappointed despite it.

A hand placed on his shoulder shook him out of those thoughts and he looked to the side to see Gale giving him an amused look "Something tells me he was with us in that place the entire time."

The vampire gave him a doubtful look in turn but was cut off before he could give it any more thought.

"Smoke!" Wyll called, pointing at a large pillar of it in the distance "And exactly where the inn was supposed to be."

"Let us waste no more time then." Lae'zel grasped the distraction with relish "Your Flaming Fists could be dying as we speak."

Needing no further motivation, the group rushed down the road leading to the inn, and to the scene of a battle writ small.

Dozens of goblins and a few drow clad in light armor could be seen surrounding the walled manor-style inn, battling the heavily armored but also heavily outnumbered professional mercenaries from Baldur's Gate.

The inn itself was on fire, the conflagration spreading around the whole building far too quickly for it to be natural. There was a flash of pale blue within the building itself and the flames slowed somewhat.

Suddenly, Gale felt a distinct feeling in the air and nearly skipped a step "Teleportation magic." He muttered, before focusing on what was in front of him and willing his frustration at being late into weaving a spell without the usual preparations.

To his surprise, it actually worked.

A goblin charging at the side of a distracted Flaming Fist warrior suddenly found himself missing half his face as a bolt of force struck him dead on, quickly followed by his fellow who crumpled around his center of weight, feeling his spine snap like a twig.

Gale felt a wave of nausea strike him suddenly, and absently wiped the stream of blood leaving his right nostril before settling back into what he knew, and using his traditionally prepared magic missiles to bombard the rest of the assaulting force.

The others were not idle either, as Astarion and Lae'zel fell upon the force of goblins that was almost done pushing through the main entrance of the thin outer wall. The sudden and blindingly rapid death of a good fifth of the goblin force quickly broke the creatures' cohesion and the rest were swiftly put to flight by the tired defenders.

On the other end of the assault, Wyll had just finished slashing a drow's throat open with an expert riposte, and a sudden feeling in the back of his head making him dodge to the side as a hand crossbow bolt flashed an inch past his eyes.

Without even looking, he drew power from his sword and sent the bolt of eldrich energies flying at his attacker, bursting the drow's head open and killing him in an instant.

Efficient as they may have been, the goblins were not so foolish as to not use every chance they could get, and another scramble broke within the courtyard of the inn itself as another force had seemingly snuck over the unprotected western wall.

The creatures were furious and bellowed war cries for the Absolute as they charged the rear of the thoroughly exhausted Flaming Fists, the suddenness of the attack and the relative freshness of the attackers all but guaranteeing the slaughter of the brave mercenaries.

Or it would have, if not for Gale's swift reaction.

Assessing the situation with impressive calmness, the Wizard of Waterdeep called forth a familiar chant while moving his hands and fingers just so, summoning a large puddle of grease just below the charging goblins' feet.

It would have been comical, in another time or place, seeing the goblinoids stumbling over themselves in a panicked scramble to get out of each other's way.

Unfortunately for the poor creatures, the Flaming Fists were in no laughing mood, and a pair of the mercenaries wasted no time in bathing their hated foe with flasks of alchemist's fire, the concoction spreading across their entire formation before igniting under the slightest friction and setting them all on fire.

A tired cheer spread amongst the warriors, filled with both cruel satisfaction and relief at their survival.

And it was allowed to last for all of five seconds, as their leader was already moving towards the burning manor "Get your backsides moving, maggots!" He snapped "The Duke and Chancellor are still inside!"

That seemed to shake the mercenaries from their celebratory mood as they started moving as if given a second wind, and Wyll too found himself unable to focus on anything else other than getting into that inn.

The mercenaries didn't try to stop him or the others that rushed in after him, and the double doors that were seemingly blocked from opening simply snapped into dry shards as the Balduran nobleman kicked them open, too focused on finding his father to even notice the burst of power.

Unfortunately, all he found were burned bodies, and one very delirious elven Chancellor.

"Wyll?" The half-conscious woman slurred "Is that you, young man?"

Wyll, ignored her, carrying her out of the increasingly on fire manor and laying her against a nearby wall "Get me some water." He ordered one of the Flaming Fists, and his look made the mercenary not even consider telling him he didn't have the authority to command him.

While this was happening, the mercenaries' leader, the same tall, greatsword wielding man who got them back into gear earlier, walked over to the Councilor, placing his hand on her shoulder and invoking a prayer that made it glow gold.

The elf snapped awake, going to speak but coughing at the dryness in her throat. She noticed Wyll's approach and gratefully accepted the water he offered "It really is you." She exhaled as she lowered the waterskin.

"You know this man, ma'am?" The apparent paladin asked.

"He is Duke Ravengard's son." Florrick said, getting up from the dirt.

The paladin blinked, before quickly saluting "Sir!"

"At ease." Wyll responded on reflex and turned back to the elf "Where is my father, Florrick?" He asked.

She closed her eyes and covered her face to hide her wince "The attack came out of nowhere. We barely even realized what was going on before they were onto us, and the wizard leading them sacrificed all of the others to grab the Duke and teleport him out."

"How could that happen?" Wyll felt genuinely confused "My father has some of the best protective artifacts on the Sword Coast."

"They threw bodies at him until they managed to cut his ring finger off." The elf looked away with a pained frown "They did not care even as they were cut down."

"Fucking cultists." The Flaming Fist leader spat on the ground.

And Wyll couldn't help but agree, despite the sheer whiplash of hearing a paladin swear.

"We must get him back then." The heir to House Ravengard said, drawing the attention of the duo back to him.

"And I agree, but we have no idea where he is." Florrick pointed out with some resignation "We cannot search for him blindly."

"We caught a few of the goblin filth." The mercenary interjected "We'll make them sing what we need to know easily enough."

"No need to dirty your hands with them." Gale said as he and the others approached them "The dead are just as informative as the living, and not nearly as hesitant to speak." The wizard's lips twitched upwards as he saw the mercenary tense and he pressed on "Five different spirits named Moonrise as their base of operations."

"Then we have no time to waste." Councilor Florrick said "Every moment we spend here is another the cult has to do- gods know what to Ulder."

Wyll's lips thinned as he considered that "We can't just run after them."

"What do you mean?" The elven woman frowned "I know you and your father aren't in the best-"

"Don't." Wyll raised his hand, voice hard "Finish that sentence, please."

The woman looked taken aback but quickly bowed her head "My apologies."

Absently nodding in acceptance, Wyll shared a short look with the rest of his party "The cult no doubt wants to use my father as a bargaining chip against Baldur's Gate, which means they will not kill him anytime soon."

"And." He added as the two of his father's loyalists nodded "We are not alone in this struggle."

He spent the following hour explaining the situation with the Tieflings and the Druids, and hinting but not fully elaborating on Reyvin's existence to the duo, assuring them that it was in their interest to wait for them to mobilize their allies on the way to Moonrise before marching into the cursed land blindly.

Emboldened by confidence he didn't know he had, Wyll had managed to talk his way into leading a small army.