Seaside, Unknown Location; Neth 22, 4719 AR

The ocean wind in their hair, the new Guardians of Golarion stared down at the burning city. The ominous ship that loomed over the harbor looked like the beginning of a new terror. The party quickly scrambled down the cliffside (or floated, as is their wont) and made their way cautiously to the town. Cypress and olive trees dotted the countryside. Surprisingly, it was Uhn who noted that these sorts of trees were often found in Cheliax. The goblin had been ferociously reading books within his quarters, something that had puzzled the laborers as they worked.

There was something clearly wrong, as people were fleeing their homes on the outskirts, taking refuge in the rolling pastoral farmland. Unfortunately, the Guardians had no time to question anyone as they caught sight of a shackled man being knocked down by a massive boar and dragged away. The group ran ahead to catch up with the assailants, Inagra taking the lead while Kyrillos took to the shadows.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?!" Inagra shouted across the boulevard. She puffed herself up and tried to strike an authoritative pose; not hard for a woman of her demeanor.

The group turned to regard Inagra, Uhn, and Wrin. They were a gang of men being lead by a scraggly looking dwarf who held the chain to a massive, scar covered boar. Emblazoned on their leather jacks were the symbols of a trio of triangles atop a circle resting within a larger triangle. The Scarlet Triad.

"I've been sent by Thropp to keep an eye on you fools," Inagra continued, "and I think he's going to be very disappointed with this."

The Triad thugs looked at each other, confusion plain on their faces. Finally, the dwarf spoke up. "We don't answer ta Thropp! That dandy don't hold any jurisdiction over Amnin's men."

Inagra pressed on, however. "You men aren't supposed to be here. Hand over that captive and we won't send this up the chain."

The cleric's gamble paid off, but perhaps not in the way she intended. The dwarf hesitated for a minute. "Amnin said these were orders from Laslunn herself. Look for the gate, but don't be afraid to have some fun while we're at it." Wrin couldn't hide the shock from his face when he heard the Dreamgate mentioned. The Scarlet Triad knew more than he assumed.

At that moment, one of the dwarf's underlings cocked his head and muttered something under his breath. The dwarf snapped to attention suddenly and drew out a wicked looking flail. "You aren't Triad!" he shouted. As he loosed the chains to the boar and his men charged forward he shouted, "Get the big one in the back in shackles! Take out the mongrel greenskin!" He then smiled wickedly. "Save the pretty one for me."

The slavers charged through the streets, manacles held in their hands, while Kyrillos slipped between the alleys. Uhn, as usual, met the thugs with deadly force, a twisted smile painted over his face as Choppy swung wide. With the chains of his prisoner wrapped around his wrist, one of the thugs began pulling his captive away from the combat, towards the direction of the harbor. Wrin, face obscured by a skull-like mask, stretched his fingers out and called up a gleaming red wall of flames to cut off the grunt's escape.

While the chaos of battle took over the streets, Kyrillos burst from the alleys and summoned a torrent of ice to slam into the fleeing man and sent him hurtling into Wrin's chromatic wall. The new sorcerer looked back to the half-orc through the melee, shooting him an impressed stare. Though no one could see it, everyone could feel Wrin's eyes rolling from behind his mask.

The dwarven Triad member continued his assault on the Guardians, but one by one his minions were slowly falling. Even his blood boar had been skewered quite handily by Uhn, who was gleefully taking out his foes. Just as the slaver weighed his options, a blast of energy caught him in the gut, sending him gasping for air. He looked up to see Inagra glaring down at him menacingly. "Well," she said, "I'm all yours." The slaver didn't seem to like his odds and took off running.

"Amnin!" he shouted, throwing himself through the wall of flames. "Amnin!"

An explosion of fire followed him as Uhn gave chase through the flames, his mind focused on only one thing: murder. Unfortunately, Wrin was quicker on the draw, a handful of magical darts flying through the air and laying the dwarf low. Uhn scowled through his burns as the half-orc walked away, still behind the chromatic wall.

Inagra stood over the last surviving member of the group, her crossbow pointed at his chest. "We have a few questions for you." In the distance, Kyrillos unbound the shackles that held the Triad's captive.

"Lamashtu's children take me!" the Triad slaver swore. "I don't want to die, please, please..."

Uhn slammed Choppy into the ground, cutting through the cobblestones like butter. "Well I really want to kill you, so we have a problem, you philistine." Inagra shot the goblin a look to silence him.

Her hands steady on the crossbow, the dwarf cleared her throat. "What's your name, slaver?"

"It's... it's Progost, ma'am." The boy could scarcely be called a man, probably just shy of his sixteenth winter. He trembled every time Uhn kicked aside a body of one of his former comrades, searching for loot.

"Progost," Inagra rolled the name around, trying to think of it's origin. "Where are we, Progost?"

The boy looked confused, but he knew better than to question her. "Ravounel, ma'am. Cypress Point, really. We were just..." He trailed off, not wanting to speak his misdeeds in front of this battle-hardened cleric.

"You were just what?" Wrin interrupted, hauling up the captured man who rubbed at his once bound wrists.

Progost tried to avert his eyes from his victim. "Amnin brought us here to blow off some steam. Maybe get a few," he looked into the villager's eyes for a moment before turning them down quickly, "...slaves." He brought his hands up quickly, trying to ward away further accusations. "I mean, these were orders from above. Amnin's here on command from Laslunn."

Inagra pressed the crossbow against Progost's neck. "Your friend mentioned a gate?"

"Ulkin? Oh, damn. Damn, damn." Progost suddenly remembered that his superior was now nothing more than a corpse on the roadside. "Yeah. Laslunn's got a bunch of us looking for some sort of gate. All we're to do is report back if we find it."

Wrin brought his face close to the slaver's, his eye boring holes into the boy. "You're going to take us to your boss... this Amnin."

Progost stared helplessly at the ropes and manacles that the half-orc tossed into his lap.

Progost lead the group, all of them bound loosely with ropes around their wrists through Cypress Point. Kyrillos followed beside them invisibly, keeping an eye out for anyone who might view them with suspicion.

"I'm sorry," Uhn said, clearly exasperated, "but once more... what the hell is going on?"

Inagra looked back at the goblin, voice kept low, but she was unable to keep the irritation out of her words. This was the third time she had explained the situation to him. "Amnin and his men came here on that massive ship in the harbor. They've taken the women and children hostage in a smokehouse in town. Once they've taken their fill of slaves, they plan to burn this place to the ground at an old warehouse by the docks."

"So," Wrin added, carefully hiding the conversation, "we're being taken directly to Amnin. We take him out, rescue the villagers, and there's no one to give the order to start the fire."

"Oh," Uhn nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"It made sense the first three times, too," Inagra muttered.

As they rounded a corner that brought them within sight of the smokehouse, a group of Scarlet Triad crossed their path. Progost froze, turning back to Wrin for advice. 'You handle the talking, boy," the sorcerer whispered. He flexed his gauntlet, it's razor sharp blades catching the boy's eye.

"Oh, yes, uuh, hail, Helgi!" Progost stammered. "Just bringing these captives for Amnin. I thought he would be interested in them."

A dwarven woman stepped forward, her hair bound in intricate Five Kingdoms braids. She set her hands on her hips and raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Progost? You know that captives are supposed to be taken to Bullbutcher. Where's Ulkin?"

Uhn stared back from where they came, safely now outside of the city limits. Only farmland marred the endless rolling countryside. "So, she's dead, right?" Kyrillos shot the goblin a concerned glare.

"My magic is exhausted," Wrin mumbled, trying not to make eye contact with his group.

"And to make matters worse, this town is going to be burnt to the ground," Kyrillos said before adding, "if we're to believe that slaver."

Uhn began walking back into the streets of Cypress Point, Choppy held high. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get Inagra and show these Triad badinages what for!" Once more Kyrillos stared at Uhn, this time much more confused. Wrin shook his head, trying to let the newcomer know that it was best to just let it go.

"I'm in no condition to head back in just yet," Wrin stated flatly. "My powers are weakened, my wounds are mounting, and my muscles are on fire. I need to rest."

"But-" Uhn started.

"I. Need. To. Rest." Wrin walked away, heading back towards the gate they came from. "Meet back here in... two hours?"

Uhn and Kyrillos exchanged looks. It looks like saving the town had just fallen onto their shoulders.

It was clear to Inagra how One-Eyed Amnin earned his moniker. A dark-skinned Keleshite man sporting a thick leather eyepatch, Amnin cut an intimidating figure standing atop the smokehouse with his drakes lazily circling overhead. She tested her chains not for the first time and found they still held just as tight. At her feet, the ruined body of Progost lay in a sticky pool of his own blood.

"Quite a trick you tried to pull there...," Amnin nudged the key that dangled around Inagra's neck, "...Abadarian." He straightened up and looked back over the ruined village. "But you'll have to be a little more clever than that to get one over on me."

"Is that so?" Inagra asked. She quickly stooped low, her magic calling up a globe of darkness around her as she worked the key she had taken from Progost into the chains. All around her she could hear the shouts of the Triad, but she was better in the dark. Just like home. She twisted her body past clumsily swung blades and threw herself from the roof of the smokehouse, twisting her ankle as she landed. As her vision shifted to adjust to the sun, she dashed for an empty storefront, favoring her good leg. A shadow fell over her then, and Inagra spun around, spells already forming, but it was too late. Amnin's drakes swooped down on her, dragging her back to their master.

The Triad captain scowled. "Take away her weapons and throw her in with the rest." Despite her struggling, Inagra was pushed down a shaft only to tumble into the smokehouse, surrounded by infirm women and young children. A few looked up at her curiously, but most kept their heads down, already cowed into submission by Amnin and his men.

A tugging at Inagra's robes snapped her back to reality. A small child, her eyes full of hope and a dirty doll in her arms, stared up at the dwarf. "Are you Nolly Peltry?" she asked. "Are you here to save us?"

Uhn and Kyrillos skirted from building to building, though they found that most of Cypress Point was either already captured by the slavers or too terrified to leave their homes. It wasn't long before they arrived at the warehouse that Progost had mentioned. It sat on the edge of the docks, dry timbers looking ready to slough off into the sea at any moment. A sharp acrid odor surrounded the area.

"So the plan is...," Uhn held up Choppy, "I run in there, kill everyone, and then we're big heroes."

Kyrillos shook his head. "That's too dangerous. If we do that and the Triad act unpredictably, who knows what they could do."

Uhn squinted at the Irriseni sorcerer and tried to find the best way to rephrase his plan. "Okay, I sneak in there, kill everyone, boom, big heroes."

Kyrillos was already ignoring him, staring at the several doors that lead into the building. "I can become arctic vapor and slip through the cracks here." He paused and turned to another door. "Or there."

"Well, yeah," Uhn said, bored. "They probably lead to the same place."

"But what if they don't?" Kyrillos turned on the goblin quickly. A curious expression of unease was painted across his face. "If this goes wrong, the whole town could go up in flames."

"Yeah, so..." Uhn hefted Choppy and began swinging it around in mock combat. When he finished, he raised his eyebrows at the sorcerer and gave him a wicked smile. "A little hacky-hacky with Choppy-Choppy, right?"

The two went back and forth, arguing about the best way to proceed for quite some time.

Inagra looked at the small girl and the rest of the gathered, helpless people.

"Yes, I'm here to save you," she said at last. She tried to stand a little taller, daring anyone to question her promise.

A dark chuckle came from the room, an elderly woman stepping up to Inagra, sizing her up. "Well, you're not off to a great start." Her face was heavy with wrinkles, but she carried a sort of authority about her that was obvious to the cleric.

Inagra swept into a short bow, nothing uncommon to see in Druma, but she kept it shallow enough to cause affront to the right viewer. "My name is Inagra Ironbeater, and I am here with the Guardians of Golarion. We're going to stop these slavers and free this town." The words came out beautiful and clear, but Inagra felt somewhat helpless for the first time in a long while.

The woman laughed once more, a sharp bark that resounded around the room. "Hell of a name," she wondered aloud. She extended a hand in greeting. "Call me Xerelilah. I'm something of the leader of this town. Care to tell me what your plan is?"

Inagra held Xerelilah's hand for a moment longer than she intended. "Well..."

The old woman's face fell, though she tried to hide her disappointment. "I see." She gestured to the gathered women and children. "Just like us then."

The cleric held onto the key of Abadar. The cool metal of her god always comforted her.

The cloud of vapor that was Kyrillos drifted through the abandoned warehouse. Despite some dilapidation, nothing seemed amiss. As a matter of fact, the entire place seemed empty. A walkway of sea salt encrusted planks ringed a shallow hold of water within the building. Kyrillos moved on, settling into a storeroom filled with barrels and metal drums. His stealth mission complete, he swung open the doors to the outside world.

Uhn tapped his foot impatiently. "What took you so long? Fastidiousness?"

Kyrillos rolled his eyes and gestured into the room. "This place is empty. I don't know what the Triad were planning here, but there's no one around."

Uhn pushed past him and began sniffing hard at the metal drums. "Oh, yeah," he cooed. "These suckers smell just like Viggo's crap." Kyrillos looked at the goblin inquisitively. "Y'know... explosives and stuff," Uhn sighed. "He was always messing around with this sort of stuff." He gave the drum a kick, which caused the Irriseni man to flinch.

"Explosives? Then why would you kick it?!"

"Relax," Uhn said nonchalantly. "This stuff only goes up in flame if exposed to air. Without any slavers here to pop these tops, everything is fine."

Kyrillos rubbed his chin as he looked at the barrels and then out to the sea beyond. "In which case...," he began slowly, "we could just roll these into the flooded hold and we won't have to worry about the town burning down."

Uhn snapped his fingers and clicked his teeth together. "I like the way you think! Y'know, Viggo used to be the smart one around here. Well, after me, of course. But you might not be so bad, Kyrkergaard." If Kyrillos raised any objection to what the goblin said, Uhn didn't notice as he was busily rolling the barrels off of the walkway and into the waters below. "One... two...," he counted aloud. "Three... fou- Oh, what the fu-?!"

'They're late,' Wrin thought to himself. 'I told them two hours and I am somehow not surprised that they were able to get that wrong.' The half-orc flexed his fingers, watching as sparks of fire danced from fingertip to fingertip. He was ready to put these slavers down.

Suddenly from the docks came a massive pillar of green flame. Splintering wood flew into the air followed by the booming noise of destruction.

"Oh, well that makes sense," Wrin said to no one, half jogging to the scene of the explosion.

Pieces of wood continued to rain down from above when the half-orc reached the scene. Uhn lay doubled over on the ground, his flesh raw and sizzling from the burns. He looked as though he had just thrown himself into a bonfire. Nearby, gently tending to the goblin's wounds, Kyrillos seemed unharmed, his robes merely slightly scorched.

"In the Redeemer's name," Wrin growled, "what did you two do?"

"WHAT?" shouted Uhn, eyes half open.

Kyrillos sighed heavily. "He was rolling some barrels of alchemist's fire into the sea-"

"Smart," Wrin interrupted.

"-and a creature burst forth from the depths and bit into one as it fell." Kyrillos gestured back to the destroyed husk of the former warehouse. "It must have caused the other barrels to burst open as well."

"WHAT?!" shouted Uhn once more.

"Also, I think he's deaf now," the Irriseni added quickly.

Wrin tried to find the right words for his feelings, the confusion, anger, and frustration. He only shook his head sadly before saying, "This is almost exactly what I expected. Come on, let's go."

"...WHAT?"

Inagra felt the ground rumble just the same as the other gathered villagers. "Vault Keeper protect us," she chanted.

"They've destroying the town!" came the cry of someone.

"We're going to die in here!" shouted another.

"Cooked alive!" The gathered townsfolk were whipping themselves into a frenzy.

Inagra pulled herself up and tried to fix the panicking populace with a hard stare. "Now see here," she said forcefully. "I told you that the Guardians are here to save you, and you can take my word to the bank. All of this worrying isn't doing anyone any good." The crowd quieted down, but cast uneasy stares in the dwarf's direction.

Xerelilah clapped Inagra on the shoulder and rolled her eyes in the darkness. "You have quite the way with words." She gave another dark chuckle. "At least if we are going to die, we should die as quietly as possible." The woman turned away from Inagra before the cleric could respond. The captives returned to their quiet sorrow.

Time passed in miserable silence before the rumbling returned, this time closer. The soft sobbing in the room was replaced once more with panicked yelps. The building shook as though something heavy had slammed into it from outside. "Gods protect us!" shouted someone.

The barricaded door was suddenly ripped from its hinges, a ten-foot tall goblin holding it as though it were a makeshift shield. Inagra rushed forward, a smug look of victory on her face. "Uhn! I'm damned glad to see you! I knew you would be back for us."

The goblin smiled and cocked his head as he looked down at his comrade. "WHAT?!" he shouted, his voice booming. Behind him, Wrin and Kyrillos blasted their magicks at the pair of drakes that Inagra had been caught by previously. All around, the buildings were falling further into disrepair as their battle consumed the streets.

"Uhn! For the love of-!" Wrin was shouting as he darted over rubble, his arcane powers amplifying his speed. "We're still fighting here! Those people could get hurt!" One of the drakes slammed into him then, sending him tumbling to the ground.

Uhn paid no attention, instead waving the villagers out into the streets while Inagra tried her best to keep them from leaving. With supernatural reflexes, the barbarian spun quickly, and severed the head of one of the drakes who had swooped in low enough for him to reach. "BOAT GONE," he said exaggeratedly, pointing out to sea with Choppy's bloody blade.

A low moan of sorrow rose from the people of Cypress Point, even has the sorcerers finished off the remaining drake. Cries of "My husband!" "They've taken them all!" and "What can we do now?" filled the air. Only Xerelilah was quiet. Her face was twisted into a sour grimace.

Inagra turned to the village elder, her gaze level and steady. "Don't worry, we're the Guardians. We'll get your people back."

"You had damned well better," Xerelilah mumbled, not making eye contact with the cleric.

"Where do we start?" Wrin asked, rubbing his shoulder, his hand glowing with divine energy. "Where could that boat be going?"

Inagra looked at the sun, already starting to settle in low in the sky. "Then we start for Kintargo tomorrow." She turned back to Xerelilah. "The Guardians of Golarion will bring back your loved ones, don't you worry."

The elder nodded her head sadly, seemingly already resigned to their failure. She gestured to a building nearby. "Find a bed to sleep in. There are plenty to go around." She sighed and walked away. The silence stretched on as the golden rays of the sun slowly darkened.

"WHAT?"

The three day journey to Kintargo was uneventful. Ambassador Halleka Shadeborn kept to himself for the most part, but opened up to mention Nidal's plans to assist the growing nation with velstrac servants. He didn't seem too hopeful, as the people of Ravounel seemed firmly entrenched in their stance against the shadowy nation to the east.

"We don't really do politics," Wrin grunted. Most conversation ended there.

Finally, midway through the third day, the gleaming walls of Kintargo came into view. The silver-streaked white stone from which the city's nickname comes from shone like a beacon of civilization. Smoke from the fires of industry drifted lazily into the air over the city that sprawled across nearly ten times the space of Breachill. Inagra let a warm smile onto her face. "Truly a place that Abadar would be proud of," she breathed.

In the city walls, the Guardians bid farewell to the ambassador and began their hunt for the captured townsfolk. Wrin took to the docks, asking about a large ship that should have come through recently. Inagra and Kyrillos strolled through the markets, amazed at the selection offered by the Silver City. Uhn, his hearing having returned, began asking people on the streets about the possibility of slave trafficking within Ravounel.

Uhn wiped away a stain on his armor that smelled eerily like mint tea. "Did nobody else see that?" he asked her. The halfling shrugged her shoulders, her face finally deciding on 'worry' for it's mask. Uhn knew better than to question things much further; one of his friends hurled fire out of his fingers, so ghosts weren't exactly a stretch. "I'm trying to free some slaves that were brought here. You wouldnt happen to know where there might be some... slave stuff going on?"

The woman's eyes went wide and she struggled to find the right words. "No slaves here in Kintargo, no sir!" She adjusted the heavy basket she carried with her. "All them Thrune folk got chased out when the Silver Ravens returned." She bit her lip and looked into Uhn's eyes, seeing no ill-intent within. "But if you're interested, you might be able to find some helpful people at the Long Roads Coffeehouse."

Uhn smiled broadly, his sharpened teeth a sharp contrast to his innocent eyes. "Thanks, but I don't really drink coffee." The halfling tried to protest, but the goblin strode away, asking the next passerby if they had heard about any slave trade in Kintargo.

Meanwhile, Inagra left a back-alley storefront, her hands wrapped around the new hand crossbow she purchased to replace the one stolen by Amnin. As she walked back towards the broader streets beyond, she heard the sound of bells ringing overhead. Yet something was wrong... the chimes sounded as though they were screams from beyond, clanging discordantly in a deafening boom. She squeezed her eyes shut and ground her palms into her ears, trying to escape the cacophony. A series of bone-chilling growls caused her eyes to snap open however. A pack of dogs, flames licking from their mouths, stood at the edge of the alley. They looked like they hadn't eaten in months, and their hunger was palpable. She fumbled with her new weapon as they lurched forward, teeth bared. She managed to fire, but it was too late, as the ferocious beasts tore into her skin.

And then they were gone.

Inagra looked around worriedly, reloading her crossbow as she searched, but there was no evidence they were every there. Well, except for... She reached up to her neck, pulling away fingers that were stained with her blood. She murmured a prayer to Abadar as she joined the press of people that walked down the streets of Kintargo unmolested.

The Guardians met at their agreed upon spot, Inagra appearing more shaken by Kintargo than the rest. "I believe this city to be haunted," she muttered.

Uhn scratched at his face. "Oh, yeah. I saw an apparition as well. Quite masticating." Inagra seemed put off by the fact that the goblin accepted the haunting so simply.

"Haunted or not," Wrin began, "I have heard tell that a large ship came into port recently and left just as quickly. It stopped in a dealer's warehouse called 'Sunset Imports.'"

Suddenly focused, Inagra nodded. "Let's go." She loaded a bolt into her new hand crossbow, certain that trouble was to follow them.

Inagra's brow knit together almost immediately. Kyrillos put a hand on her shoulder to calm her, but it was Uhn who spoke first. "What's that supposed to mean, baublemonger?!" He bared his teeth immediately, reaching for Choppy.

"Oh, heavens!" the woman said, clutching at the shawl wrapped around her head. "What dirty little swamp did you crawl out of, creature?"

Inagra pushed her way forward before Uhn could take a swing at the merchant. "Actually, we're here to browse your wares. We might have a few questions about what sort of stock you carry, as well."

The woman raised her eyebrows exaggeratedly. "Oh, my dear dwarf. My apologies, but this is an imports business, not a tavern filled with cheap booze for your kind. There's nothing here that would interest your low-brow tastes."

"What did you say?" Inagra glared daggers across the counter at the woman.

Wrin strolled around the showroom. Antique odds and ends with gold filigree were showcased in small glass cases. Limited edition books, Vudrani rugs, Qadiran spices... and a locked door that lead into the warehouse. Just enough space for a cloud of gas to slip through. "No, you're right, madam. We do not belong here. Let's take our precious gold elsewhere."

The four left the building, only after Uhn spun around and gave the customary double salute of the goblin people. The merchant seemed unphased. Outside, Wrin explained that Kyrillos could sneak into the back room in his gaseous form and then unlock the warehouse shutters to allow them access. The Irriseni sorcerer nodded quickly, taking the half-orc's multitool and weaving his primal magic. Not long after, Inagra, Uhn, and Wrin stood outside the shutter waiting for it to slide away. Just then, a quiet whisper could be heard from within. "I do not actually know how to pick locks." A collective sigh before the Irriseni returned to them, and passed the tool to Wrin.

After fumbling with the lock for more than an hour, the Guardians managed to break in. They moved quickly, breaking back into the showroom and subduing the woman behind the counter before tying her up in her office. Inagra scrunched up her face. "I feel like there was a better way we could have gone about this." Uhn shrugged before returning to the knots with a barely constrained glee.

Wrin's eyes shot open. "Amnin is here in the back of the warehouse. There's... a demon of some sort with him, along with a halfling."

Inagra took a final look at the Vudrani woman before ushering the rest of the group into the warehouse. Crates and boxes were stacked to the ceiling, teetering dangerously where ever they didn't scrape the high ceilings. The organization was haphazard, making it appear more like a maze than an organized shipping system. To make matters worse, it looked as though several of the containers had been burst open and rifled through aggressively. "Scarlet Triad?" Kyrillos ventured. Wrin nodded, eyes focused ahead.

The sound of smashing wood was the only notice they got as a crate burst open beside them and a massive creature of stone emerged forth. In place of a head, it had a round calendar stone capped with a headdress. It began swinging seemingly at random, knocking Wrin and Inagra aside with bone-crushing blows. As the Guardians joined to battle, they heard shouting coming from deeper within the warehouse. "It seems that we've been noticed," Kyrillos stated coolly.

"Delightful insight!" Uhn shouted, falling into a blood frenzy. His size nearly tripled as he swept the legs of the massive statue out from under it. "Just stop the damn thing!"

Kyrillos began to pound the golem with his arctic magicks, but was interrupted as One-Eyed Amnin entered into view followed by a hulking purple and blue demon covered in twisted, curling horns. "You, again?!" the slaver shouted, hefting his massive club and charging into the fray. Uhn felt his knee buckle as the club smashed through his patella. He collapsed to the ground.

Wrin wove his spells, trying to keep the slaver and his demon at bay, but he was pushed back by the golem who broke bones with every swing of it's heavy arms. Inagra tried to shout something to Kyrillos over the din of battle, but the words were lost. Just as quickly, Amnin was on the Irriseni, his greatclub thudding home between the sorcerer's shoulderblades, sending him sprawling to the ground. "Kill the goblin, Bullbutcher!" Amnin shouted to his demonic companion.

"With pleasure," the fiend purred. His claws scraped hot across the goblin as Uhn struggled to his feet. "You... belong to me." Bullbutcher's eyes flashed bright as he stared at the barbarian.

Uhn whirled on Wrin, Choppy held high above his head. His eyes now mirrored the demon's, and his jaw hung slack. "You've got to be kidding me," the half-orc swore. He peered into the arcane, his weeks of practice in the Mwangi paying off as he quickly unraveled the spell that so enthralled his companion.

As Uhn regained his senses, he turned on Bullbutcher with a roar, slamming Choppy down onto the fiend. Yet the blow did not connect with flesh as he had hoped. Instead, Choppy twisted on one of Bullbutcher's horns, turning it aside and tossing it from his grasp. The creature laughed, a sinister thing to hear. "This weapon belongs in the hands of one more capable," he taunted. He grasped up the ruby blade, but recoiled suddenly. Choppy clung to his hand, tendrils of crystalline blood snaking their way through the demon's veins. "By the true name of Shax!" he exclaimed. "It burns! It burns!"

Amnin stopped to stare at whatever could cause a demon to scream so, giving Inagra enough time to tend to Kyrillos. Wrin, meanwhile, leapt onto the golem, digging his razor-sharp claws into the construct, miraculously bringing it down. Uhn spat blood on the ground, in too much of a fury to notice what was happening to Bullbutcher. Instead, he reached out with a massive fist, and pulled Choppy out of the demon's grasp. Ragged veins burst from the creature's arm where Choppy had embedded itself, and the demon howled in agony. Bullbutcher backed away, the ruby veins continuing to spread through his body. With a pitying glance to Amnin, he disappeared in a burst of flames, leaving the Guardians alone with the slaver.

Amnin scowled, just in time for Uhn to send Choppy across his neck in a neat arc. Blood rained down across the crates in the warehouse. "Uhn!" Inagra shouted. "We need him alive! He knows where the Cypress Point villagers have been taken!"

Wrin stepped forward to the dying man, his face already pale from blood loss. He tried to stop the bleeding, his hand wrapped around the wound. Amnin sneered one final time. "Rot in... hell..." His final words were nothing but a rasping whisper as the life left his eyes.

Kyrillos trotted back into view. "Everyone, the halfling back here is still alive, but he isn't in good shape." Covered in blood, the Guardians left Amnin's body and darted into a makeshift interrogation room created by the slavers. A thoroughly beaten halfling was tied to a chair, his breath coming in labored gasps.

Inagra quickly leant her divine magic to him. "What happened here? Where are the slaves?"

"Oh gods help me, I betrayed them," he whispered. "Desna save me, I've killed them all."

"What did you do?" Wrin interjected, his eyes blazing coals in his head.

The halfing looked around at the four with fear in his eyes. He took in a swallow of air. "The Bellflowers. I told them everything. I gave up all of our codes and safe houses."

The Guardians swapped glances. If the Bellflowers were real, they would be able to assist them in finding the kidnapped villagers. On top of that, if they were being hunted by the Scarlet Triad...

Kintargo. A recently freed city still living in the shadow of it's dark history. The Scarlet Triad is making moves against a mythical organization and the Guardians have become caught up in it all. What secrets will be revealed?

-Dungeon Master