Perhaps another time, Drell might have given wonderance to how Fel’s lazy swagger kept pace with her far longer strides. Now, she voiced no complaints as the half-elf led them into the bowels of the undercity. Buried deep within the maze of old wood and weathered stone, Drell snorted and sniffed the air as twilight took reign of the sky above.

“The stink of old magick permeates this place.” She grunted.

Fel’s lazy smile was positively malicious as the halfbreed turned back to Drell.

“The Phoenix Queen’s rituals did tend ta do that.” She drawled. “Should give you an idea of where we be a-goin.”

It struck Drell then. Of course. It was fucking perfect. Where else would you conduct secret business in a large, lawless city like this? In a place the commonfolk feared and those with enough sense to know what lay within stayed far away from.

“Is this some reference I’m too much of a foreigner to understand?”

Drell glanced back at Fel in vain hope that the elf might suddenly interest herself the providing of explanations. No such act of the gods occurred, and Drell shouldered the task herself.

“To commit an absolute injustice to the tale and summarize it: Ilyashin, Phoenix Queen of the Desolate Lands, Majestor of the Sands, Mother of the Firetide, Slayer of the Dragon of Lassen, The Light of Dawn, Heaven’s Lance, once made this city her Thronehome. Several years later, she made her bid for god-hood, and history at large knows what followed.” Drell shuddered and silently made a quick orcish ward against evil with her hands. “On a more localized scale, several cults dedicated to her name revealed themselves. Temples were erected in short order, and the sacrifices began.”

“Tah give you a perspective on how horrifyin Drell’s implication is.” Fel grinned with great pleasure. “The unlucky chosen, or as history knows em, the Taken, were not killed in her name.”

“See,” Drell cut in. “Banishment is a process used on demons and devils to force them back into their respective realms. Since they lack souls, their material form is forced off this plane and into their respective hells.”

“I am aware.” Brisha nodded curtly.

“Well, the downright horrific part of it was this,” Fel interjected as Drell was about to speak. “They did nay banish demons. Instead, they took mortals and through some absolute fuckduddery, performed the ritual on them.”

Her expression sobered, a hint of empathy behind her cheerful expression.

“It wasn't pretty. The banishment stripped the mortal form off the soul and cast it into random hells.” Fel pulled another sprig of wake leaf from thin air and jammed it into her mouth, talking all the while. “But we ain't here fer history lessons. House of Blades uses these abandoned temples as places to conduct some strictly off-the-books business.”

“And you know this how?” Brisha queried.

“Well hun, that’s my thing. I gamble and I know things. Mostly inconvenient-for-other-people things. Now you have somethin’ I want and I have knowledge you need. So we be a’doin business.”

Despite several decades of abandonment, the Phoenix Queen’s shrines remained in excellent condition. A pleasant facade hid the evil that had been nurtured within. Brown arches led into red rock walls, barely visible in the faint moonlight. Drell’s vision had adapted to the darkness, and she found herself in the lead as the trio drew close.

Fel sauntered up to the lone dead tree that still stood in the courtyard and promptly leaned herself against it.

“Well, y’all run ahead and I’ll be along shortly.”

Drell ignored her, drew her axe and marched right at the front doors. With a roar, she reared back, tensed her muscles and kicked the door in. Some blasted hinge-smith cackled in their grave as her spectacular entrance was foiled, and wood splintered beneath her boot. Rather than being knocked clear into the building, the door just kind of shattered and swung inwards.

Same purpose, less dramatic flair.

The kill team was relaxed and clearly in wait within as the duo stormed inside, Drell’s weapons drawn. Murder writ on her face, she wielded her axe in one hand and Wyrm’s claw in the other. The half-giant Follan had described rose from a far too-small chair, cards tossed aside and claymore drawn. Drell’s gaze flicked over the blue-robed woman chanting before a sigil, the dead-eyed half orc with a loaded crossbow being brought to ready, Morilath on top of the card table, magick in her hands, and then back to the sigil. Her eyes widened as she saw Veska impaled upon the ground, a holy rod shoved through her chest and anchored into the rock below.

Sheer hate rose behind Drell’s glare, whatever Morilath spoke lost upon her. There was only rage and death and blood in her now, and she let the furytide carry her forwards. Her axe cut through the upraised claymore that was pulled into its path. Down, through armor and skin. Pain flooded through the hatehaze as a gash opened along her own body. With a roar, she stumbled back, an open wound upon her that matched what she had inflicted upon the half-giant.

A bolt slammed into her chest, one that barely pierced her hide. With a snarl, Drell ripped it free and hurled back at the half-orc. A stream of flame from the Wyrm’s Claw followed. Flame blinded her momentarily, and the orbs of sheer force that Morilath hurled at her went unnoticed.

Once more, Brisha took her place, and let them impact over her form.

“That seems rather unfavorable.” Morilath remarked as her magick was nullified by Brisha’s existence.

“Life is unfair like that.” The minotauress agreed, broken pillar in hand. With a grunt, she hurled it at the halfling mage, turned and kicked the half-giant in the stomach. She easily bore the brunt of her own blow. He did not. As Drell pursued the half-orc assassin with murderous intent, Brisha grabbed the towering giantkin and wrapped her arm around his throat. His damage reflection rendered several options of incapacitation unviable. This was the simplest way.

“Come, hounds, meet your doom!” She taunted at the lackeys that poured from adjacent rooms at their master’s call. One arm wrapped around her foe’s neck as he silently struggled, the minotauress kept him between her and the newly emerged reinforcements. Someone screamed and emerged from the flame behind her.

The half-orc assassin now lacked a hand as he stumbled and fell to the atrium’s stone floor. Drell emerged behind him, axe raised. His life was saved as some invisible hand yanked him out from beneath the blow.

Drell glowered at Morilath, enraged beyond words. The mage gestured, and an invisible force threw the orc across the room. She failed to right herself before another continued the first blow. She met wall, ceiling, floor and then wall in quick succession. Only to be dropped back to the floor as Morilath began to choke. Drell’s vision swam, but she swore between flickers that she glimpsed Fel crouched atop a pillar, hands wrapped around empty space.

Her vision swam as Drell stumbled upright. They were all still alive. Somehow. Her gaze traced past Brisha as the minotauress discarded the half-giant’s limp form and charged into the crowd of Blade-House mercenaries.

“Thrones, I love being on the same side as her.” She groaned. Her vision continued its path and locked itself upon the blue-robed woman that chanted before Veska’s unmoving form. From across the carnage, Drell raised the Wyrm’s Claw and called forth its scorn. Flame gathered to the master’s call, a white-hot bolt dragged into existence. With a snarl, Drell released the dragon’s breath. The white hot bolt streaked across the room and caught the woman in the lower back. Wards flickered and were torn before it as it sought to bring down what prey it had been unleashed upon.

The blue-robed form collapsed without a sound, and the sigil ceased to glow.

Her hands dug into the rock as the furious slayer leveraged herself off the wall, hate-filled orbs in search of Morilath’s form. She was found in a corner, watch kept with a stern expression as her projections were strangled by Fel’s invisible hands.

“Gods Above and Below, you really do have a penchant for fucking everything beyond recognition.” She intoned, disgust on her usually merry face. Without another word, she snapped her fingers and hurled a massive ball of fire at Drell. The orc leapt aside, only mildly scorched as the flames rolled past, only to find Morilath gone. Her lackeys as well.

“Mass teleport spell, already prepared beforehand.” Fel remarked as she phased into sight next to Drell. “Clever girl.”

Steel rang on stone as Drell limped across the atrium, blood trailed behind her. With a grunt, she raised her axe and sheared through the sigil. She let the weapon fall from her hand, grasped the banishment rod impaled within Veska’s chest and yanked it free. With a small gasp, she collapsed on the stone next to her succubus and panted as exhaustion washed over her. Now there was nothing she could do but hope that enough of her remained tethered here to be yanked back.

Fate begrudged her this one mercy, and Veska sat bolt-upright, expression clouded.

“Where are they?” She snarled in pain. Her hands grasped at the hole in her chest as Drell wrapped an arm around her form and pulled the succubus close.

“Gone.” Drell sighed tiredly. “But not forever. Morilath doesn’t forget, and doesn’t forgive. We need to get out of the city before she gathers a fresh group to come after us.”

The succubus groaned in pain and clutched her chest.

“I would agree,” She gasped. “But I feel weaker than a newly spawned imp.”

Drell stood with a grimace upon her face. Her own wound dripped blood, yet she bent and hauled her lover up. Her weight held by Drell’s arms, Veska gave a small smile and slumped back into exhaustion. Not that Drell faulted her for it in any way. She had just resisted banishment for an unknown amount of time. And to greater worry, the hole that gaped in her chest.

Fel chose that moment to glide up and interrupt the two.

“Now that you two twitterin lovedoves have had yer moment, I believe we must discuss the matter of our bargain.” She spoke smoothly, hands rubbed together. “Gettin’ me out and away with every loan shark, cutthroat and Blade-house merc now on the lookout for me, and the sandwraiths about to chase me across the dunes on sight.”

“What have you done?” Drell asked, part of her not wanting to know the answer.

“Ask not what I have done, but what I plan to do.” The pale woman slyly drawled. “It has reached my ears as to where the different Houses within the city keep their coin, an since I have cut ties rather irrevocably with the Blades, I will henceforth be relievin em of the crushin burden of their fortune. For which I need tall, curvy and strong here.”

Brisha’s head turned at the mention of her name, now occupied with looting various supplies the mercenaries had left behind.

“Any other time, I would say this is an absolutely suicidally spectacularly dumbass idea.” Drell sighed. “But I find myself lacking foresight and reason as of late. Ask her nicely and she might agree. Meet us at the front gates before dawn and we’ll be to our destination within the hour.”

She looked down at Veska’s tired form held in her arms.

“We have a wolf to fetch.”