Prologue

The watery duel between monsters raged on within the murky depths of an underground lake. Gaelmythil and her unlikely allies had once again chased down Tarrasque. The realization of the

creature being controlled by one of their greatest enemies, a magical sword with the power of a great mage, had steeled them to find a way to finish this once and for all. The foul water protected

the creature from their attacks, as Rothgar and Halix continued to slash into the unforgiving scales of the beast.

The great sword found an unusual opponent in Queek, as his attempts to decimate the party were continually thwarted by the dragonborn's magic. If only he knew the ghoulish bard, Mournless,

had heightened the sorcerer's abilities to near epic level. As blows cascaded around the arena, Rothgar was devoured by the Tarrasque's mighty jaws. This blessing in disguise allowed Rothgar to rip

into the core of the annihilator and retrieve the ultimate prize.

Upon this discovery the minotaur was quickly dominated by the wizard within and commanded to escape. With Queek's many magical attacks, his senses had been weakened, and the now invisible

Halix and Queek were nowhere to be found. With another crafty move the bard teleported Rothgar to the archon's side; thus temporarily blocking the sword's influence. Rothgar wielded the now

helpless longsword as he cleaved deep into the belly of the beast. It was simply child's play to finish off the Tarrasque with the sword removed.

Once again the immortal behemoth was defeated, and the sword was handed to Gael. Now she held the evil power...a part of her quest was coming to an end. With a malicious rage the sword

attempted to destroy the archon with a swift spell, but her stalwart defenses easily deflected his spell. She quickly relinquished the blade to a far more fitting being...Mournless. He smiled as he held

his new victim. Why should he worry? He had wielded an intelligent weapon before, and quickly realized that he was immune to its effects and influence. A smile quickly formed on his face...

The sword thought to himself, "He won't be smiling for long."

Prologue continued...

As Mournless held the sword he felt confident in his ability to keep it dormant. Without a mind to control, it would be easy to destroy, or they would find a way to contain it. With the archon present

it was unlikely to control Rothgar again. As the ghoul wielded the sword, he noticed Rothgar and Halix hauling the once menacing Tarrasque out of the murky water. It fell to the ground with an

earth-shattering thud. Without the sword this creature was well within their abilities to defeat.

As the victorious heroes looked over their fallen foe, Mournless felt a twinge of magical energy. As his senses began to piece together the source of the anomaly he surmised that a magical bond

had been created. He then realized that the sword was magically connected to a fellow ally, Queek. But even before he could mutter a word, the dark underground sewers were filled with a scorching

light..."

The last thoughts of a minotaur barbarian..."...but I wanted it's horn."

After the Boom

Pain. A sensation not many people get to experience objectively. But then again, an undead bard is not without exceptions. As his evil magical energies forced his body to kneel above the now hot

red grit...he realized he was not whole. His arm had been destroyed from that bright, scorching light, and only a clean, seared void existed upon his right shoulder.

Above him soared the brilliantly armored, winged paladin. Gael had taken to the skies to survey her new challenge. Once again she had been sent somewhere that had little need for the righteous.

By now it seemed she had gotten used to being a lone light in the endless sea of darkness. Gael's eyes peered over this alien horizon, and she was the only witness to her tears.

A large expanse of crimson landscape stretched out as far as her gaze would take her. A terrifying river cut through the middle of this wasteland, and Gael remembered it was not a place to regain

one's strength. Further behind her was a monumental structure carved from ebony stone and adorned with imposing draconic figures.

She knew her allies were dangerously close to an abandoned, ancient city. In her mind she knew it was there only way out, but the very thought of traversing that path almost made her shudder.

As she reached a fitting altitude she found what she was looking for...a citadel made completely out of bronze. This is where it would be, and where they needed go.

Epilogue

From the blazing red hot surface lay three heroes who had been forcibly plunged into this new world. Halix, the deadly half-dragon assassin, was unconscious but not seriously scarred from the

blast. Rothgar, the giant barbarous minotaur, still had breath within him as well. But as Mournless peered at a smoldering Queek, he realized he wasn't quite as lucky.

Golden scales were charred by a furious fire that had all but taken his life. The bard recalled how he had noticed a link between the dragonborn and the sword. This must have been the price for that

union. The talented sorcerer twinged from his obvious agony; he was still alive. As the injured ghoul looked up he saw a sky filled with crimson, only brief flashes of lightning broke the horizon.

As Gael spotted her friends she quickly descended to their location. Arcs of massive fireballs menacingly flew above her, and seemed to be targeting some unknown location. This place was not

home.

As she landed, her three fallen comrades regained consciousness and staggered to their feet. Gael, still lost in her thoughts, stated "The sword must be here somewhere. We cannot leave without

it." She pointed in a direction that followed the large river, flowing with murky water. She instinctively moved to begin healing her allies when a grave shock fell upon her face.

Rothgar quickly spotted a small hand grasping Gael's leg that seemed to morph from the ground. His senses quickly returned to him, this abrupt journey must have dulled his abilities as he realized

that the party was surrounded by ragged humans. They looked almost like zombies, but their heaving chests told them otherwise. They were something different, somewhere in between life and

death; in forever limbo.

Gael quickly regained her words, "Defend yourselves...these creatures can drain human life." As the group took a single breath, they knew they would fight to the end...to the end. "We are in a

place called Avernus. The first layer of Hell."

In unison they charged forward!