The Nine Hells are no place for the mortal soul. Those who willingly walk into the most infamous dens of iniquity and horror are sure to return home with stories, treasures, and... more
The group approaches the giant slab of ice. As they draw nearer and nearer, they see their reflection in the surface. The 20-foot-tall mirror of ice reveals their selves assoulless, haggarded, and encrusted with rime. In the far distance of a frozen tundra enclosed within the ice, they see a sole tower of ice.
Nobody else had high enough bonus with a chance of DC 25
The intelligent docent embedded within the warforged Tome telepathically sends knowledge to the sorcerer. Tome then relays that information saying, "That is the Tower Mephistar-the lair of the archdevil Mephistopheles."
A few moments after arriving, a cambion appears. The being, only visible in the icy world beyond the mirror, swoops down from the direction of the tower. His skin is cadaver-blue, and his face is frozen in a scream. Rigorath holds a kettle of steaming water in one hand. Before speaking, he pours the boiling water over his face to thaw it out.
"I am Rigorath, emissary to the archdevil Mephistopheles. I sense your desire for knowledge. What is it you seek?"
"Greetings to you, emissary Rigorath." He gives a polite bow. "I am known as Log'thar, paladin to our overlord Asmodeus. And your senses are accurate, we do come seeking knowledge." As the devil is literally in the details, he shows caution about how he reveals their goal. "I recognize the deep lore that Mephistopheles possesses in his endless libraries. What recompense would be required for submitting our inquiry?"
The touch of having him have to defrost his face to parlay is amazing.
Rule Number 12: "A soft answer turneth away wrath. Once wrath is looking the other way, shoot it in the head."
Ryld winces slightly at the sight, although if the cambion feels any pain from having to thaw himself with simmering hot water, he doesn't show. He's not going to scream at us when we're done, is he? His personal inquiry will have to wait, but while the minions talk, he decides to sketch the pillars trapping the tiefling they met, in case they have to explain their issue.
The warforged speaks to Log'thar stating, "I do not believe the confines of the icy region would be suitable for flesh beings such as yourselves. I am a scholar. I shall peruse the library." Tome understands that the archdevil Mephistopheles is capturing sorercerers for a reason, but he is yet to discover the logic behind the motive. As a sorcerer himself, the danger of entering into the archdevil's lair is overridden by the greater desire--no hunger--for knowledge.
Rigorath's bucket of hot water magically refills as he pours it over his face once more. Seemingly able to read their thoughts, he states, "You are here for the sorceress. She is quite powerful and my master is please to have caught her."
The emissary continues, "Yes. You wish to free her. There is only one way to release her from my master's trap. I am allowed to offer that to you, in exchange for a ... service."
The half-orc finds the irony delicious. While he himself is a willing servant of the lords of Hell, most or all of his companions have been strong-armed or tricked into service. And now while discharging that service they are required to take upon yet another service. Just beautiful. At this rate they will spend the rest of their mortal lives acquiring and finishing these sorts of jobs, playthings resisting but not breaking free of the strings tied tight around them.
"That would make sense, Emissary. Mephistopheles should be recompensed fairly for freeing the sorceress he so amusingly captured. To perform such a service necessarily obligated us to balance the scales. The Planes must become even in all such things. Which brings us to the point so directly put by my companion, Morneth." He gestures to the woman. "What service do you ask of us?"
Rule Number 12: "A soft answer turneth away wrath. Once wrath is looking the other way, shoot it in the head."
Rigorath responds, "Master Mephistopheles wishes to have the River Styx dammed where it spills into the Pit of Shummrath."
With one of Rigorath's fingernails, he etches the terms onto the surface of the mirror. The words form into chunks of ice on the group’s side. Rigorath instructs them "If you agree to the terms, chisel off, melt, and then drink to seal the bargain."
Ryld's face contorts to a sneer. "How does your master expect this to be done? Can't we kill someone instead?"
Since the cambion appears capable of mind-reading, the 'personal inquiry' on his mind, earlier and right now, is about whether Mephistopheles or Rigorath have seen or know anything about the person in the locket he picked up near Mephistopheles' wizard trap.
But at the moment it's beneath a layer of upset, that they have to go on a diversion and dam a river like a squad of foot-sloggers. Don't retract the offer though, he's just being a pushover before we commit.
"Killing someone is easy, this is ... worrying." He narrows his eyes suspiciously. "Assuming it is even possible, as I assume just knocking a tree into it is unlikely to do much, it would inherently upset certain balances in the Hells. Not to mention likely drawing the attention and ire of Charon, the Ferryman of the River Styx."
Rule Number 12: "A soft answer turneth away wrath. Once wrath is looking the other way, shoot it in the head."