“So we find where the Scarlet Triad is, and get them to tell us where they took the villagers.” Wrin's voice was dark and frightening to the Bellflower. “You said that you told the Scarlet Triad where to strike?”

Hundy flushed red with embarrassment. The Network had been nothing more than myth and rumor for so long, striking from the shadows and bringing freedom across the land. In his weakness, he may have given that all up. “I told them about our safe houses here in Kintargo: the Long Roads Coffeehouse and Lady Docur's School for Girls.” The Guardians shot a curious glance at Uhn, who didn't seem to notice. “As well, I told them that we send our codes from Kite Hill, not far out of the town walls.”

“We have three places to check on then. One of those should lead us back to the Triads.” Wrin was all business, his skull face mask pulled down across his face. He kicked aside Amnin's body. “These men are past redemption.”

“Well,” Hundy began, hoping that he had chosen wisely in trusting these four. “If we can get word out from Kite Hill that the safe houses are in danger, we could buy time for the Network to go underground.”

“Where would you like to go, Hundy?” Kyrillos asked.

Hundy thought for a moment. “If I'm being honest, I'm most worried about Laria at the coffee house. She's tough, but...” He shook his head, resolving to be stronger than he was. “No, she will be fine. We need to get to Kite Hill first and get the word out.”

“Lead the way,” Wrin ordered.

Kite Hill had well earned its moniker. Rolling emerald hills topped with wildflowers were being danced upon by the parents and children of Kintargo. High in the sky, kites of all shapes and colors created a panoply of wonder. Hundy pulled the Guardians through the crowds to a small makeshift stand advertising “Free Kites!” to any and all. A middle-aged halfling woman stood behind the rickety wooden table, handing away the paper kites with a beaming smile. “Heya, kiddos!” she shouted when the Guardians approached with Hundy. “Interest you folks in a kite to protest the Nidalese ambas...” Her tone shifted suddenly when she saw the battered halfling. She swiftly leapt across the kite stand and pulled Hundy close behind her. “What happened to you? Who are these people?”

Hundy explained what was happening, trying his best not to collapse into himself for failing the Bellflowers. The woman watched with ever growing concern, the creases in her eyes deepening as fear mounted. She turned to the four people who stood in the middle of this bucolic scene: a masked, armored man, a goblin with a crystal blade thrice the size of him, a mysterious foreigner with cold, emotionless eyes, and a dwarf with a look of judgment plastered across her face. “Do any of you know how to fly a kite?” the woman asked with a coy smile.

The woman, Kona, explained that the Bellflower Network sent coded messages across Kintargo by way of kite. If the Guardians were willing to lend a hand with the kites, they could warn the safe houses that they were being hunted. Uhn and Kyrillos quickly took to the kite flying, despite Inagra's insistence that they were “doing it wrong.” They sent the message loud and clear that the Bellflower Network was currently under attack.

As Uhn began to spool up his kite, a feeling of contentment filled the goblin. He had gotten his fill of combat, his mother – and greatest threat to him – was no longer in his way, and he had cast off the shackles of his old name. He was a Scalehoarder no longer. And now he was participating in a beautiful expression of enjoyment, even if it was a matter of life or death. It was at that point, that a soft dusting of snow began to settle across the hill. “Well, you don't see that often do ya? Huh? Do ya?” Uhn looked back to his companions who were busy drawing weapons.

“Everyone,” the woman called Kona commanded. “Run.” She ran back to her table and returned with a mud-encrusted hoe before dropping into a strange martial stance.

Uhn was already charging into battle with the creature, Choppy slamming uselessly against it's chitinous hide. “We've got this covered! We're the Guardians of Golari-” The words caught in Uhn's throat as a blast of wintry cold slammed into him.

The halfling woman spun in a wide circle, picking up a chunk of dirt from the ground with her hoe. With tremendous force, she sent it flying into the devil's chest, though it hardly seemed to slow the fiend. “Well I'm no slouch either!” she shouted. “That thing's a gelugon, an ice devil. Stay away from it or you're bound to be frozen to the core!” If Uhn heard her, he gave no indication, instead trading blows with the monster.

“How do you know so much, exactly?” Inagra asked as she set her hands for her next spell.

The halfling struggled internally for a moment before meeting Inagra's gaze confidently. “Nolly Peltry, at your service.” She spread her arms wide in a mock bow before leaping back to combat. “I was involved in a few scuffles back when the Silver Ravens were fighting for this town.” The dwarf looked on, curious as to where the stories ended and the woman began.

Kyrillos blasted it from afar with his primal magicks, his water battering the gelugon. “I'm running low on anything that could stop this thing.”

“Ice...,” Wrin muttered, calling flames from his fingers. “A pitiful application of true magic.” He launched a ball of fire onto the creature, enveloping it in an arcane explosion. Yet as the smoke cleared, the ice devil was completely unharmed.

“True magic?” Kyrillos asked, closing the gap between himself and the fiend. “Perhaps you are overconfident in your abilities.”

“I'll show you true magic!” the gelugon hissed. “For the Lord in Shadow!” A blast of frozen air once more exploded across the battlefield, knocking Wrin from his feet.

Nolly ran over quickly and pulled a potion from her pouches. She tended to the fallen half-orc while Inagra kept Uhn from succumbing to the same fate. “Don't give up on me now, big guy,” Inagra shouted over the din of battle.

Uhn's skin was nearly black and blue from frostbite, and his body was riddled with wounds from the gelugon's spear. “Give up?” he smiled, his mouth full of frozen, black blood. “I don't know the meaning of the words.” He slammed Choppy once more into the ice devil, finding purchase somewhere among its scales.

From behind, his breath coming ragged, Wrin charged against the fiend as well. His claws were sharp, ready to taste flesh again. “Shame that none of us do.” Kona continued her dirt assault, pushing the gelugon back.

The fiend hissed as its connection to the material plane was being torn. “You shall all fall to Nidal!” it screamed. Dark phrases in another tongue tumbled forth from it as it was ripped back from whence it came.

“Shadowtongue,” Nolly Peltry clicked her tongue before spitting on the ground. “Filthy shadow lovers.”

“That wasn't Shadowtongue,” Wrin corrected. “I'm not so sure that creature was the work of Nidal.” The halfling gave Wrin a questioning look, clearly not believing the sorcerer's flippant words.

“It was a fiend, yes,” Inagra began slowly while she applied another layer of poultices to Uhn's wounds. “However, the fiends of Nidal are velstracs – chain devils. It seems strange that they would send a gelugon to do their dirty work. This reeks of a distraction.”

At that point, Hundy came rushing to the party, having run off when the fighting started. “Kona! Kona!” He shouted.

“It's fine, Hundy,” the woman smiled, “they know.”

Hundy looked between Nolly Peltry and the Guardians before shrugging and chattering away. “During all that fighting, I caught sight of a man that was just standing and watching while everyone else was running! He had these red and blue robes and rich, golden skin. He watched for a little while before turning and walking back towards the city.”

“Take us there.” Wrin was straight to the point. Already pushing Hundy ahead of him as they cleaned the grime of the fight off of them.

Inagra was the first to spot the tracks; soft-soled boots that stood not far from the massive claw impressions that appeared to vanish suddenly. “Dimension door, likely,” she murmured.

Wrin held up the tatter of a parchment, burn marks marring its face. “And this,” he stated flatly, “appears to have been used in conjuring that thing.”

“So,” Kyrillos reasoned, “this golden skinned man uses a scroll to summon the ice devil, sends it into Kite Hill, and then... leaves? Why?”

“Nidalese,” Nolly Peltry muttered just as Inagra repeated, “Distraction.” The halfling shot a glare at the dwarf.

“In either case, we have a start.” Wrin crossed his arms over his armor. “Let's start asking around about a man with gold skin. That should stand out a bit here in Kintargo.”

“B-but the safe houses...,” Hundy began.

“We got the word out,” Nolly interrupted. “We can only hope that everyone is safe. It seems like tracking this golden man is our best lead for what ever is happening in town.”

“Why don't you run ahead to the coffee house and see how things are?” Wrin asked. “I know that you're concerned about someone there.” Hundy paused to think before nodding. He rushed ahead, worry painted clear on his face.

Not long later, the group was spread throughout the Newt Market, asking questions and stocking up on supplies. Unfortunately, the populace wasn't of much help in locating someone with golden skin. When all seemed lost, however, Inagra's questioning lead her to a Hellknight of the Chain.

“Yes,” he remarked off-handedly, “I've seen such a sinister looking figure. Are you reporting this man for a crime?” The wicked spikes and chains that decorated the knight's armor left many uneasy. To Inagra, however, the man seemed to represent something more; a force of law and order.

“We have only circumstantial evidence at the moment, but we believe that he summoned forth a demon at Kite Hill not even an hour ago.”

The hellknight leaned in, his face impossible to see through his dreadful helmet. “One would need more evidence to convict. However, I have seen the foreigner passing through to Alabaster Academy. Perhaps he is a professor there.”

“Thank you, sir...?” Inagra blushed, suddenly realizing that she didn't want the conversation to end with this man of the law.

“Knight Vinucius.” His words rang out from within his helmet. “And make sure that you do not engage in any sort of vigilantism. Leave such matters to the hellknights.” Inagra bowed stiffly, leaving her contact information in case the knight ever need to get in touch with her again.

“If you're quite done, ragamuffin,” Uhn snorted, “we are in the middle of important business.”

Inagra's brows knit together and she punched the goblin in the shoulder, hiding the hot flush that rushed to her cheeks. “We have a lead on the golden man,” she explained.

“That other one – Hundy – he hasn't returned yet.” Wrin's eyes scanned the crowds. Scarlet Triad could be anyone here. “I think we should look into things with the safe houses first.” Everyone nodded in assent.

While they walked, Uhn glanced over at Inagra. “We're totally going to engage in vigilantism, you know.” Inagra returned the glance with a vitriolic stare. Uhn smiled wide, his sharp teeth a reminder of his history as a Scalehoarder warrior.

The Long Roads Coffeehouse was a beautiful old building buried deep in Villegre district, built of humble brick and wood. However, the smell of coffee that lingered in the air had already begun to smell burnt to the noses of passerby. As the Guardians approached, they noticed that one of the old wood doors swung precariously from its hinges, foretelling trouble. The party stomped up the steps and burst through the remaining door. Two men dressed in Scarlet Triad leathers lay sprawled out over a table. The small cafe was in complete disarray: tables were overturned, coffee beans were scattered on the floor, and numerous crossbow bolts punctured the walls.

Nolly Peltry walked up to one of the slavers' bodies and plucked a diminutive bolt free from his shoulder. “Bellflower,” she said triumphantly. “Looks like the Network managed to get away safely.”

Inagra shook free a pair of hell hounds that had bitten deep into her arm. As they fell free, they collapsed into ash and smoke. “Anyone here an exorcist?” Everyone glanced over at the cleric, expectantly. “I'm not that sort of priest!” she shouted, hurling a bolt of positive energy into the ghost's chest.

The clash was brief, but tense, with the Guardians dispersing the negative energy that kept the restless spirit still tied to the mortal plane. “He'll be back,” Nolly worried.

“Again. Don't care,” Wrin muttered, tending to everyone's wounds. “We'll just kill him again.”

Uhn scraped clear some blood that clogged his ears. “Are you sure? I don't like fighting... non-blood... things.” He shrugged and returned to his injuries.

Nolly swept through the coffeehouse like in a blur of motion. “Hundy?” she called. “Laria?” The Guardians watched as they rested on the upholstered seats, still winded from battle. The halfling returned to the dining hall with a look of worry. “I don't see them anywhere.”

Just then, a small face peered out from a sack of coffee beans. The halfling that Uhn had met only earlier that day, her face stained with tears, pulled herself free and flung her arms around Nolly Peltry. Tumbling out of the bag after her was Hundy. “Oh, Nolly!” the girl shrieked. “It was terrible, awful! We saw your message and got everyone into hiding as fast as we could.”

Nolly was running her hands through the young woman's hair. “I know, kiddo, I know. Where is Laria now? Did she make it out?”

The girl shook her head. “Some sort of... animal-headed creatures came and stole her away when the fighting started. They took a bunch of agents, too, while those ghosts wrecked up the place.”

“Where did they take them? Do you know?” Inagra's voice cut through the conversation. Once more, the girl shook her head sadly.

“If this place was attacked,” Uhn reasoned, “then the other safe house probably isn't so safe. How loquacious!”

“Hundy, take the girl somewhere safe,” Wrin commanded. “Nolly, you're coming with us.”

“You mean that you're coming with me,” the freedom fighter corrected. “These Scarlet Triad are comin' after my home, my people.” Everyone nodded in assent, ready to continue the fight, not willing to let the slavers slip out of their grasp once more.

The skies were getting darker as the Guardians approached Lady Docur's School for Girls. With architecture clearly inspired by the lithe structures of Kyonin, the slim building felt very at home in the eccentric, upper-class section of Kintargo. Dangling from one of several entrances was a silver cord, used to announce one's presence. Inagra gave it a swift jerk, and in moments a young half-elf arrived to greet them.

Inagra looked shocked. “There were no injuries? No one was hurt?”

Lady Docur brought her tea to her lips to take a gentle, refined sip. She allowed the cleric's questions to hang in the air for a pregnant moment. “As I had said earlier,” she said at long last, “we were quite fortunate.”

“Then we're done here.” Wrin turned to leave, but the half-elven attendant blocked his way.

“I still have one of them here,” Lady Docur purred from the divan. “If you would like to speak with him, that is.”

The Guardians shared a glance while Nolly helped herself to some tea. The elven headmistress walked over to one of the many bookshelves and pulled aside one of the tomes of etiquette. All watched with wonder as the bookshelf slid away to reveal a staircase that descended into darkness. Lady Docur conjured a ball of light and lead the way down. The air was cold and stale down here, in sharp contrast to the perfumed halls above them. The narrow corridors were occasionally populated by steel doors or iron bars in which haggard looking men and women sat.

“What is this place?” Kyrillos whispered.

“Isn't it obvious?” Wrin muttered back. “It's where people go when they disappear.” Lady Docur looked back to the half-orc with a polite smile and the briefest tap along the side of her nose.

Uhn grumbled in the darkness. “So when you're all casting your magicks, this is where you end up? Pedantry!”

They came to a door set in the stone wall and the elven woman turned a key in the lock and pushed it open. Within, a man wearing leather armor bearing the symbols of the Scarlet Triad, strained against chains that bound him to the wall. “Have fun,” Lady Docur whispered to Wrin, patting him on the chest as she turned away.

The Triad thug whimpered as the Guardians entered. “Please, you've got to help me. That woman is-”

“It doesn't matter.” Wrin shoved Uhn forward. “Get him to talk.”

The goblin looked around at his companions questioningly. When none of them met his gaze, a wicked smile grew on his face.

A few screams later and the group was once more enjoying cups of tea in girls' school sitting room. Uhn walked up from below with a satisfied smile on his face. “Tanessen Tower in the Alabaster Academy,” he said smugly.

“Uhn, did you kill him?” Inagra asked, expecting the worst.

The goblin stared back at his friend incredulously. “Inagra. I am shocked. Shocked that you would say that. That you would think that I would ever do that.” The goblin turned to Lady Docur. “am I allowed to do that? I didn't know.”

The headmistress waved him away. “Think no more about it. The four of you have your next destination. Allow my girls to take care of the rest. They certainly could use some practice.” She motioned over for her attendant. “Have rooms prepared for these agents. Any friend of the Bellflowers certainly have a home with us.” As everyone turned to leave, she raised a hand to halt Wrin from leaving. “You and I, however, may have much to talk about.”

After seeing to their rooms, the Guardians returned to the sitting room for snacks and tea, while Inagra and Milari spoke of franchising and the headmistress used her occult powers to search the pasts of these newcomers. Nolly said her farewells, wishing the Guardians the best, but knowing that her duties were to get the Bellflowers out of Kintargo quickly. Above them, alone with one of Lady Docur's students, Wrin began to practice the art of spycraft. The next day, he would be ready.

In the morning, a short breakfast was served. While Inagra and Kyrillos enjoyed honeyed oatmeal, Uhn carefully stuffed as many slices of bread into his cheeks and washed it down with a sloshing pitcher of milk. Lady Docur watched in silence, sipping at yet another cup of tea. Wrin arrived, skipping breakfast, and began explaining his plan.

Igwiig, the slaver from Lady Docur's dungeon, carefully climbed the steps up Tanessen Tower. The first five floors were clearly abandoned, coated in dust and cobwebs. The sixth, however, was where the Scarlet Triad had taken up residence. In a half-finished lecture hall, his associates traded stories about the raids from yesterday and how poorly they went. When he arrived, everyone seemed shocked to see him.

“Hell, I didn't think you or Coleston had made it out of that place,” one of the thieves remarked.

“Lucky me,” Igwiig said, shaking his head sadly. “Coleston wasn't quite as blessed as I.”

The Triad agents leaned back in their seats, saddened by the news, but knowing it was often an inevitability in their profession. “What happened?” another slaver asked.

Igwiig leaned forward, his face suddenly hard. “They're sending the Guardians against us.”

The room went quiet with confusion. “Who?”

A shout from behind the wall went out, “Us!”

Wrin's arcane Igwiig disguise melted away as Inagra, Uhn, and Kyrillos charged into the room. The half-orc's fireball caught the slavers by surprise as the Guardians made quick work of the thugs. They kept their momentum, rushing up the stairs to the seventh floor, blade and spell ready. Battle continued against the Triad as lurching alchemical constructs joined the fray. Inagra and Uhn found themselves covered with horrific burns as they put the golems down, but they would live. Wrin, however, clutched at a wound in his stomach where green ichor poured forth. All eyes turned to the stairs leading up.

Above them, the final floor of the tower, where the Golden One is said to lair.

Who is the Golden One? Will the journey for the kidnapped villagers end here? And what of the poison that courses through Wrin's blood? Good luck, heroes. Tomorrow is burning.

-Dungeon Master