Though your dispel magic doesn't work, Zara gets in position to help Jordanna. With a final spear thrust, the half-elf falls!
The azata attacks Jordanna again, this time destroying a mirror image.
With the fog gone Imperia focuses on the azata, forcing it to laugh helplessly.
The laughter incapacitates the azata long enough for Jordanna to slaughter it!
Imperia hands Jordanna some curative potions and then silents gestures onwards into the manor.
After Jordanna heals up, you head upstairs and through a winch room that controls the retractable roof. You speak the password for the glyph of warding as you pass into the annex and climb down through the trapdoor in the floor and down into the secret tunnel beneath Helthondous's vaneo. The tunnel was originally part of an older sewer system that is now blocked off. The passage winds its way nearly a quarter of a mile beneath Bilgetown to a subterranean grotto.
You move through the cavern to another secret door which opens into a disused boathouse, located just south of the main docks of Bilgetown. The leader of the Bellflower cell and two more Bellflower rogues are loading the current crop of eight halfling slaves onto the barge. Watching over them is an impressive being indeed--a guardian naga!
"These halflings will be free. I'll not let you take them!" the lead halfling says with a determined look.
The halflings throw daggers while the leader fires his hand crossbow. The naga casts a spell to infuse itself with divine power!
Imperia winces as the bolt lodges in her leg and lashes out with mighty magics!
Jordanna pounces on one of the halflings, slaughtering her in a furious assault. Zara moves in to engage the naga and keep it distracted, though its magical wards protect it from harm.
The halfling leader reloads and fires on you again, narrowly missing and hoping the poison takes full effect before you finish your spell. The second halfling rogue moves to flank Zara with the naga as both attack her. The naga destroys one of the Hellknight's mirror images.
Imperia fights off the lingering effects of the poison through determination alone and finishes her spell, before pulling out the wand of scorching ray.
The lead halfling's will is crushed as your dominate spell takes effect!
"Disarm your fellow halflings. We don't want them getting hurt." Imperia commands, before turning on the naga.
The lead Bellflower agent is unable to resist your commands. The naga succumbs to boredom as Jordanna and Zara dispatch the last of the rogues. They then turn their focus on the naga, who is crippled by apathy and puts up no resistance as they slaughter it!
The halfling slaves who were so close to freedom weep as you take them back into custody!
Imperia couldn't really care less about the halflings and leaves Zara to deal with them while she looks for papers and other more useful sources of information.
A nearby office contains a lockbox with several encoded papers. Once deciphered, the documents detail much of the Bellflower Network’s activity in Egorian, including the nature of several local “rows” (paths from one safe house to the next) and the location of the barn in Westcrown, and serve as incriminating evidence against the members of the Egorian cell.
Turning over the documents and the slaves makes a big impression on the dottari of Egorian. Word of your victory will surely reach the queen's ears soon! For now, you should focus on getting ready for Demibaron Kavalderic's party tomorrow night!
With that unpleasantness out of the way Imperia sets about what is most important in life - shopping! For a high society ball illusionary clothing is simply not an option so Imperia seeks out Levisvia for advice about tailors and sets about getting an outfit, utilising all her charm and overwhelming personality to get it quickly but without paying any of the truly extortionate mark-ups.
When it arrives the next day Imperia is rather pleased with it. A deep, one might almost call it 'royal', purple with a slashed skirt to let the under-skirt of ivory silk show through combined with heeled shoes, a black choker and rubies for adornment make an impressive, but serious, display. This is no demure maiden or casual aristocrat the dress proclaims. This is a woman who knows her business. She does glammer her earrings however, a simple charm to color them blood red for the night.
Zara meanwhile turns down the offer of a new dress, but does have her hair cut, her armor polished and purchases a new pair of boots. "I'm not fancy." She says firmly. "But I won't let my order down." Indeed she cuts a very trim and respectable figure, her armor gleaming and lightly gilded in honor of the festivities.
Jordanna meanwhile is left to choose her own clothes although Imperia tells her quite firmly that this is a formal event and she should dress appropriately. "Do not embarrass me." Imperia says, concluding the instructions.
When Jordanna meets back up with you before the party, you are surprised to see her obscenely pregnant belly has vanished, leaving only a tight tummy instead. The alchemist smirks. "I'm projecting my consciousness into my simulacrum. I figure this will be less embarrassing for you, yes?" Her voice drips with condescenscion.
Despite her tone, she manages to secure a stylish black dress adorned with dyed ostrich feathers, something appropriate for the Chelish courts.
Soon, the time comes for the party! Demibaron Graithus Kavalderic, is an outlandish and unorthodox half-elven courtier. While the more tradition-minded Egorian nobles scoff at Kavalderic’s dual heritage and free-spirited ways, few miss his extravagant parties, even if it is only to hear gossip about rivals and complain about their excesses among more civilized company.
Even from blocks away, the glow of dancing lights and the sound of drums make it impossible to miss the way to Vaneo Kavalderic. Sitting on a small rise, the peculiar palace of the eccentric demibaron sticks out like a bouquet of flowers amid the thorns of the black-and-red buildings around it. With its mismatched minarets, each a different color and with its own style of tiled or gilded roof, the mansion is an ode to exotic architecture from half a dozen far-flung locales.
At the doors, a cadre of halfling slaves manages a long line of guests with skill and precision. The efficient servants only rarely need ask to see the marks of Thrune, always offering sincere apologies for the oversight when they do. Inside, the scents of opium, pesh, perfume, and sweaty bodies assault the senses. The place seems packed from wall to wall with guests bedecked in clothing from the fashionable to the outlandish and performers plying their trades to applause and laughter.
Kavalderic’s party is a riot of decadence and debauchery. Guests can partake of a wide variety of food, refreshments, and stimulants, from the exotic to the familiar. Extravagantly dressed nobles compare hairstyles and fashions or whisper and titter about the latest juicy gossip while drinking wine and brandy. Crazed intellectuals smoke hookahs and expound upon esoteric theories and near-blasphemies, while amorous couples and groups retreat to private, pillowed nooks, tastefully concealed by silk curtains, for their own more intimate celebrations of this free-spirited evening. Bards playing foreign songs, supple acrobats and graceful dancers, and jugglers entertain guests in one wing of the house, while fire-eaters, snake charmers, and sword swallowers gather crowds in other areas.
When Jordanna meets back up with you before the party, you are surprised to see her obscenely pregnant belly has vanished, leaving only a tight tummy instead. The alchemist smirks. "I'm projecting my consciousness into my simulacrum. I figure this will be less embarrassing for you, yes?" Her voice drips with condescension.
Imperia ignores the condescension and simply nods approvingly. "That was a sensible idea - you'll be much better received that way." Is all she says - credit where credit is due after all.
Imperia makes her easy way among the crowds, nodding politely and smiling as required but deliberately not engaging deeply in any conversations as she absorbs the ambiance and attempts to collect information.
Winding your way around the party gives you a chance to interact with other guests, including Egorian nobles and courtiers, Thrune agents, and even some foreign visitors with ties to the court through Demibaron Kavalderic. Most guests are enjoying the festivities with drunken exuberance or glazed antipathy brought about by drink or drugs, but there are a few pockets of discontent scattered throughout the festivities. Small groups of men and woman scowl at the celebrations, their stances rigid, their eyes judging. Often one or more members of these clusters wear the regalia of an Asmodean priest, but not always. You realize that most of these dour folk are just making an opportunistic show of their vexation. As the party continues, most relax and can be seen laughing and having a good time.
You overhear a few rumors:
“I don’t think the queen will make an appearance tonight. She is far too busy dealing with those tin-soldier Iomedaeans. If she shows up to any festivity this month, it will be Duke Melesiva’s Hellfire Ball. That party promises to be a much more formal and less chaotic affair, though I’m sure it will not be nearly this much fun.”
“You really have to admire the pluck of Paraduke Sethic. He is really making a go at a comeback since his incarceration, but if you ask me, he should try to marry that wench Levisvia—I mean Archcountess Vasvion. It could only improve his lot at this point, at least until he ‘disappears,’ like all her other husbands.”
"I hear the time is near for the queen to renew Thrune’s pact with Hell, which means a sacrifice in the Barrowood, if I remember correctly. If you ask me, she should capture the leader of this so-called Glorious Reclamation, Alexeara Cansellarion, and disembowel the troublemaker. That would make a fitting sacrifice for Asmodeus."
With a good amount of effort, you eventually track down the party’s host. Of all of Queen Abrogail’s courtiers, none are as colorful and eccentric as Demibaron Graithus Kavalderic. A patron of avant-garde artists, radical freethinkers, and progressive entertainers, the demibaron stands out like a whirlwind of chaos amid the rigid conformity of the Thrune court. Many ponder why Queen Abrogail tolerates the outlandish and ostentatious Kavalderic, and even more were utterly baffled when she granted him public favor and a title. Some even speculate the two are lovers.
Demibaron Graithus Kavalderic is a short, pot-bellied man dressed in garish clothing, heavy makeup, and a powdered wig elaborately decorated with miniature ebony skeletons cavorting amid obviously illusory flames that seem to flicker dangerously around the towering peruke. Kavalderic is currently entertaining an artist from Jalmeray, who is unveiling a “living painting”—a piece of artistry crafted with inks infused with illusory magic and alchemical reagents, painting a scene that moves across the canvas.
The demibaron lets out a high-pitched shriek of delight as the painting is revealed as he gazes upon fluttering angels and swooping devils in a blue sky swirling with red clouds. In places the angels and devils are engaged in vicious combat, while in others they kiss and embrace blasphemously. You notice that many of the outsiders in the image bear the faces of members of Abrogail’s court (including depictions of an angelic Paraduke Sethic and Archcountess Vasvion as a devil), though the queen herself does not make an appearance in the piece.
“My dear, it is wonderful!” Kavalderic squeals exuberantly. “It was worth every piece of platinum. I cannot wait to show it to our queen—in private, of course. And when you are well out of the city, I should add. It’s delightfully sacrilegious!”
"Quite the impious work of art." Imperia adds. "Although one would expect nothing less from one with your taste for scandal Demibaron. As ever you throw the most wonderful parties, you truly deserve your place at the center of Egorian's social scene. Now if you will forgive a question, how do you think her Majesty will react to the piece? It seems to require a certain... temperament to enjoy."
Kavalderic giggles at the praise. "Thank you, darling! I believe that privately, Her Imperial Majestrix will be much amused! But of course publicly, she will call for the artist's head! Come, come, let us chat more about our favorite art pieces while we sip on... hmm, absinthe, I think! Yes!"
The demibaron takes your arm and leads you to a secluded booth where he pours each of you a tall glass of the green beverage.
After several minutes (and several drinks), the drunk demibaron proudly proclaims, "My dear, you are a delight! You are not nearly as bad as I had heard!"
"My goodness, I've gained a reputation already?" Imperia replies, fluttering her eyelashes and pretending to be embarrassed. "Oh do tell me, what sorts of scandalous things does everyone think I've been up to?"
"Oh, don’t you know? A cousin of your former patron, one Maralictor Vokadus Fex, is very keen on meeting you. The man is very vexed with you for the alleged murder of the archbaron. I would keep away from him if I were you. He is a vicious knave with powerful friends."
Unfortunately, Kavalderic doesn’t know where Fex is staying, or the depths of his plans for revenge. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he will find you,” is the last he says on the subject.
If asked about Queen Abrogail further, he confirms that she will not be attending his party tonight. “Her Infernal Majestrix is far too busy to appear at such a minor gathering, even one as exciting as mine,” he says with a hint of regret.
After a bit more small talk, the party is suddenly interrupted by a scream. “Get away from me, you villains!” a harsh voice yells, as a man in dark robes violently pushes nearby partygoers away from him. A small black rock buzzes around the man’s head, and he stares at the stunned guests around him with crazed eyes. Suddenly, the buzzing stone plummets into the man’s chest. Eyes wide, the man lets out an anguished scream that is choked off by a torrent of blood spurting from his gurgling mouth. The man drops to his knees, clutching his chest for a brief instant, and falls to the floor, stone dead. A pall of silence descends over the party.
"A vexed Fex." Imperia replies with a giggle, "How very appropriate!"
-------------------
"Get back!" Imperia calls sharply. "Whatever that thing was you do not want to be near it!"
Her voice cracks like a whip to drive the guests away as she summons magic to her fingertips, knowing that something nasty is going to happen.
Jordanna and Zara quickly make their way to your side. A few moments later, the dead man's chest violently bursts open as a towering fiend emerges in an explosion of gore! A deadly and vicious bouquet of insectile claws sprouts from this horrid, three-legged, multi-eyed beast. It grinds and clicks its mandibles and chitinous plates together, the noise threatening to drain your intellect!
Imperia snaps her fingers at the creature and weaves magic over its senses. "Don't attack yet." She commands her minions partners.
Then her spell fails.
"No, just kill it."
Fortunately, both Zara and Jordanna resist the feeblemind aura.
Jordanna hurls a void bomb at the daemon but it maintains its footing. Zara draws her blade as she rushes in to strike it.
The daemon retaliates, hitting with one claw despite the images.
Imperia fails to get through the demons defenses once again and curses quietly before moving away from Jordanna, just in case the beast has spells.
Jordanna blasts the daemon with another bomb while both Zara and the fiend miss!
Imperia finally manages to ensnare the demon...
The daemon ceases its attacks as Imperia charms it!
"Now, how did you come to be here?" Imperia asks the demon in Infernal. Having interrogated it for a few minutes she asks whether it can return itself to the Abyss and suggests that it do so if it can.
If not she looks to the Demibaron for suggestions.
"That foolish mortal claimed an eye of Abaddon, not knowing what it was," the daemon chitters telepathically. "I am born of the item's magic and the mortal's soul. In time, I will return to my home plane."
"Well why don't you tell me about your home plane while we wait then?" Imperia suggests, deciding she may as well make a show of the whole thing.
------------------
Once the demon departs she turns back to the host. "So? Shall we continue now that that little unpleasantness is dealt with?" She asks calmly.
The daemon regales you with tales of horror before the magic expires and it vanishes. The awed guests applaud your magical might, and the grateful demibaron rewards you with a voucher worth 20,000 gp, as well as promises of mentioning you to the queen herself.
You are the center of attention for the rest of the party, and the next morning, Levisvia beams at you. "Well, now! It seems you made quite the splash last night! Your actions have made you a minor celebrity at court, and you've recevied invitations to the most prestigious party of the season. So you'd better get another dress, because Duke Melesiva's Hellfire Ball is a week from tonight!"
"Will you be attending?" Imperia asks, "We could make a day of shopping together if you were so inclined? I want to hear about how our mutual friend is doing without his bacon, and the latest news from court of course. Apparently there is a hellknight out for my blood..."
"I wouldn't miss it! I will be there with my fiance, Nicolo. I would be happy to do some dress shopping with you! Tell me more of this Hellknight!"
The archcountess giggles and takes your arm.
"His name is Fex. A cousin of my former patron." Imperia replies, linking her arm woth Lavasvia's. "Sadly I uncovered evidence that his cousin was planning treason against the Empire and when I confronted him with the evidence he attempted to kill me. It was only thanks to Jordanna and Zara that I survived. The evidence was presented to one of the Trusted and Archbaron Fex was posthumously convicted of treason. I imagine that has cost his family some prestige and it appears that the Hellknight has taken umbrage. Rather tiresome really. I don't suppose, my dear Lavisvia, that you or Nicolo have some people that might be able to find him? If I could talk to him privately then I'm sure we could straighten the whole thing out easily enough."
Levisvia shakes her head. "I would love to help, but the Hellknights fall outside of either of our purviews. But with your growing notoriety in the city, I wouldn't be surprised if he makes an appearance at the Hellfire Ball, since he'll know where to find you then! You'd best be prepared to handle him."
"I much prefer to handle women!" Imperia replies, as quick as a whip. "Although men will do in a pinch."
"So," She asks once they have arrived at the seamstress. "Advise me Lavisvia, what colours should I go for? I've done purple and ivory now - the Hellfire Ball would suggest black and red but everyone will be wearing that and if I'm becoming so notorious then I should ensure that I stand out from the crowd! Please, what would you suggest?"
It's remarkably relaxing, just shopping with a friend and discussing dresses. It's been far too long since Imperia has been able to just relax like this - within reason of course!
"Perhaps you should present a bold complement. Black and dark blue would allow you to stand out in the crowd!" Levisvia suggests. The archcountess likewise metaphorically lets her hair down as you shop and gossip, dropping much of the vapid facade she usually presents.
"That's an excellent idea..." Imperia agrees browsing fabrics. Then she comes across a bolt of cloth that gives her a truly wonderful idea. Lavisvia claps her hands in delight when Imperia makes the suggestion. "That is a truly wonderful idea Imperia. No-one will be able to hold a candle to you. Now I'll have to be careful to be nearby when you perform so that everyone remembers exactly who is sponsoring you! You'll have plenty of reflected glory to share!"
The eventual cost is phenomenal, a thousand gold pieces on a dress that will, by its very nature only work once but despite the price and the near week of fittings and adjustments Imperia counts it worth every copper coin and the seamstress receives a tip of matching value - enough to make the woman practically fall over herself to arrange the packing and delivery of the dress.
"There is no need to worry Madame Chevaine," Imperia assures her. "You will get all the credit, I promise. Such an artist deserves it all."
----------------------------
Given the warnings about their likely Hellknight visitor Zara once again opts to go in full military dress, although the intervening week allows for her armour to be properly gilded with subtle reds, giving the impression of flickering flames whenever the light catches the black metal.
Imperia doesn't give Jordanna any instructions this time, trusting the woman to decide for herself how to make a good impression.
Jordanna shows up in the common room of the Lawgiver’s Rest the night of the Hellfire Ball in her doppelgänger simulacrum’s body, clad in an extravagant and nearly scandalous dress. The black outfit crosses behind her neck and comes down to cover her breasts in narrow strips before widening into a see-through skirt with numerous cutaways. Much of her skin remains exposed, including her scarred belly. An elaborate headdress frames her face.
She shifts anxiously from foot to foot, waiting for Imperia to come down so they can get this over with.
Jordanna is soon joined by Zara and the two women wait for Imperia in silence. The mesmerist eventually appears wearing a delicate white and gold creation that makes her look positively angelic. With gold ornaments in her dark hair and a circle of white and gold stones orbiting her head, leaving a halo of light behind them, it is clear that Imperia is wearing a theme to the Hellfire Ball - just not the one that anyone would expect.
She looks Jordanna up and down with a nod, "Very impressive Jordanna. You wear it well." before offering Zara her arm as they depart for the carriage to take them to the Duke's vaneo.
The Hellfire Ball is held in the grand ballroom of Duke Melesiva’s Egorian estate, Vaneo Melesiva, located on Hellhound Hill, close to Thrune Manor itself. Liveried servants confirm the invitations and identities of everyone seeking entry to the ball, turning away those without invitations, wearing inelegant armor, bristling with weapons, or dressed in anything less expensive than a courtier’s outfit. With your fabulous outfits, you are let inside without incident.
"Presenting: Lady Imperia Tanessesn, Jordanna Carver, and Shield Maralictor Zara Orcelani," a herald declares as you step into the ball. The announcement garners faint applause from the crowd, though many curious stares are directed your way.
Duke Melesiva’s grand ballroom is lavish. The floor is crimson-and-black Arcadian marble, and the walls and fixtures mix the dark marble with a lighter stone flickering with illusory flames, giving the expansive chamber the look of an elegant Hellscape. Where Demibaron Kavalderic’s party was organized chaos, the Hellfire Ball is as orderly as a contract devil’s wardrobe. Each guest is given a formal schedule of the balls’ dances and events, and unobtrusive servants and slaves are on hand to provide for the guests’ every need. The guests are immaculately dressed, often in the red and black of the empire, but some wear more flamboyant and colorful outfits, and a few even seem to be decked out in opera costumes.
There is very little mingling, as partygoers clump together in pockets of friends, business associates, and social coteries around the room. These cliques work hard to ignore others in the room, though individuals occasionally take the time to look down their noses at some stranger or perceived enemy. The buzz of conversation drifts from the disparagement of rivals, to bawdy gossip, to small talk, but the chief among the topics is speculation on whether or not the queen will appear tonight.
You spy Archcountess Levisvia Vasvion with her fiance, Nicolo Alazario, on her arm. She cheerfully greets you with a kiss on the cheek. "You look simply marvelous, darling! And look who's here!" She points across the way, where Paraduke Thalgano Sethic sits glumly on the ringes of the festivities, his spirit seemingly as broken as his body. "It is tragic to see how far the paraduke has fallen, and so quickly! A shame, no?" She gives you a sly wink.
"Absolutely tragic!" Imperia replies with a smile. "You look lovely my dear Archcountess. You are a lucky man Sir Alazario, I hope you realise this!" After a few minutes more polite chatter she catches sight of Demibaron Kavalderic and excuses herself to go and speak to him.
"Good evening Demibaron, what do you think of my dress?" She asks, spinning slowly so that he can take in the entire creation. "You gave me the idea with the wonderful painting of yours."
The normally vivacious demibaron looks particularly somber tonight. "Yes, it's quite fetching," he says, then glances around before lowering his voice to a whisper. "Either leave this place before midnight or prepare for battle. Your enemy is on his way. I can say no more." Kavalderic then walks briskly past you.
Imperia inclines her head in a much deeper nod than she would normally give before rejoining her companions. "Midnight." She says. "If he comes seeking violence we will give it to him. But only if provoked." Then she plasters a smile back onto her face and sets to enjoying the evening.
"Are we going to see Her Majesty?" She asks Lavisvia, "Rumor had it that she might attend."
"I do not see her yet, but keep your eyes open. She may yet grace us with her presence," Levisvia says.
The ball merrily continues for hours until shortly after midnight, when the music and dancing abruptly stop as if on cue. A few revelers leave the dance floor, heading toward the balconies overlooking the ballroom and silently ushering others to follow. Like a well-choreographed play, the rest of the partygoers move away from the ballroom’s center where you stand.
Once the floor is nearly empty, a barbed devil leaps through the ballroom’s eastern doors with the grace of a panther, scanning the crowd before its fiery eyes fall upon you. A moment later, a man in black Hellknight armor strides into the room from a tunnel beneath the stage to the west, and levels his mace at you.
"You!" he sneers. "Villains! Blackguards! Adventurers! You have murdered my kin. Prepare for Hell’s judgment."
This is Vokadus Fex, maralictor of the Hellknight Order of the Scourge, and cousin of Archbaron Darellus Fex. He is not wearing a helm, and you can immediately recognize a family resemblance to your former patron.
Imperia clicks her fingers sharply, focusing her will on the devil.
"Your cousin was a traitor to the empire, Maralictor. He was condemned as such by the Trusted and proclaimed across the Empire. How can it be my fault that he fell to heresy?" She asks, cocking an eyebrow at the irate knight.
Jordanna grabs a bomb from her garter and hurls it at Fex. It explodes in a burst of gravity that drags him to the ground!
"Gah! That so-called 'evidence' against him could easily have been falsified! The Fex family demands justice!"
The barbed devil falls prey to your charm, but it merely watches your fight with Fex instead of involving itself on your behalf.
The Hellknight curses as he struggles in vain to get up off the floor, the void bomb still weighing him down. Some of the ball's guests snicker quietly at his futile efforts.