SC.3.2 Flames of Madness

Session Preface

  Recognizing the guard posted at the stairs as the same who allowed Hawk to enter under the guise of hired protection in disguise, sharing concerns of Ellian's behavior and investigating the risk is poses to the rest of the family grants you immediate access to the residential suites on the third floor. You find the children's play room and bedroom as Endriel described them — clean, but preserved exactly as they were, with toys scattered on the floor and beds unmade. Moving to the master sitting room, overstuffed chairs and elongated couches fill the room with rich carpets and a wine bar tucked in the corner. One door leads to a linen closet, packed to brimming with folded bedsheets and other luxurious linens. Another door, locked, leads to the master bedroom. A secure, but mundane lock, Hawk's thieving tools make short work of gaining access.   Inside, a four-posted bed draped in deep red curtains and tipped with gold spires stands before an ornate door carved from dark hardwood with a gold latch. On the walls, nine abstract and horrifying paintings of unnatural environments. The door against the wall here is locked as well, but behind it the sound of guttural moaning draws closer. Once Hawk disengages this lock as well, you step into an office. The walls are lined with bookshelves packed with thick tomes. A dark, wooden desk sits with a red leather tome sitting atop it. Most prominently, however, is the trapdoor in the ceiling. Wheeling the ladder from the bookshelves to the attic entrance takes but a moment.   Climbing into the attic, a think scent of sulfur assaults your nostrils. You stand in a small entryway, a simple wooden door ahead of you, spiders crawling along cobwebs in the corners of the room. Finding the door unlocked, you turn the handle and crack the door. You are greeted with a wave of incoherent howling, as if opening the door broke a damn that had been holding back a madman's screams.   Before you, a humanoid figure, some seven feet tall stands in the center of a pentagram painted in blood on the floor. Chains wrap around the figures entire body, ending in hooks, binding it to the beams and timbers of the house. The chains wrap over his mouth, and yet the screaming continues undeterred, a foul language you do not recognize, the sounds harsh and erratic. Only his blood red, glowing eyes are left uncovered by the chains, an unnerving gaze of malice and misery watching you with an intensity. The creature contorts, struggling against the restraints, pressing itself to the edge of the pentagram, howling and moaning in misery.  

Session Summary

 

The Attic & The Study

  Discovering the Chain Devil trapped in the attic, the party tries to communicate with it to no avail. Only when Thaust magically calms its emotions can the two telepathically communicate in the form of raw emotions and images of memories. Thaust learns the devil is in fact Osvolo, the eldest son of the Cassalanters. In snapshots of visions, he witnesses the parents entering into an infernal contract with an avatar of Asmodeus by spilling blood into a crimson, leatherbound tome through the eyes of Osvolo, observing through a keyhole. On Osvolo's 18th birthday, the transformation took place, trapping him in the body of a chain devil and his parents subsequently trapping him in the ritual that keeps him contained in the attic.   The companions consider their options, but realize they are powerless to help Osvolo at the moment. They descend to the study and investigate. They confiscate the infernal tome containing the contract, though the pages are blank save for stains of dried blood on the first page. Hidden in a secret compartment of the book shelf, Hawk finds a copy of the Cyrinishad, supposedly an auto-biographical account of Cyric's mortal life, exploits, and wrongful imprisonment. Recognizing the tome, the party quickly stash it in their bag of holding so as to not be somehow corrupted by its power, known to convert readers to Cyric's cause or see them descend into madness. Endriel also recovers a trapped golden lockbox. Unable to open it without the key lest the trap trigger, they stash it in the bag to deal with later as well.  

The Hall of the Damned

  The part descends into the basement and discovers the shrine to Asmodeus through a secret door hidden behind the symbol of Siamorphe. They first come across three cells where ritual sacrifices are detained. While two of the cells are empty, they find one occupied and free the halfling wererat they'd met at the Sea Maiden's Faire some days back. Descending to the bottom floor of the shrine, the heroes are drawn by a sense of longing into an alcove filled with the remains of Cassalanters passed. They are greeted by a noble, knightly ghost who Hawk recognizes as Caladorn Cassalanger, former Masked Lord and hero of Waterdeep.   Caladorn greets the heroes as a the only bright lights of darkness to descend into this damnable place in many years. He explains that he has been unable to find everlasting rest because of how his son, Victoro, has ruined their family legacy and future, the deepest purpose in Caladorn's mortal life. He reveals that not only are his progeny dealing with devils, but they leverage these infernal works towards a darker end, something involving the shadows and madness of Cyric, god of lies. When the party assure Caladorn of their desire to bring these threats to Waterdeep to an end, he offers them the artifacts he was buried with as long as they swear to destroy the effigy of Asmodeus, allowing him to pass on and find rest. Thaust so swears and dons Caladorn's plate armor and takes up his mace of disruption, a holy relic capable of turning away fiends and undead and destroying Asmodeus' effigy.   Proceeding into the shrine itself, the companions find the massive, thirty-foot statue of Asmodeus and a massive stone cauldron of magical fire. Before it, kneeling and chants, a trio of fantatics pay vigil before their patron. The party descend upon them, but find themselves surrounded in an ambush by imps and bearded devils. The cultists welcome them to their demise, ensuring them Nalaskur also sends his regards. Though setting off the trap set for them, the party make quick work of the swarming imps and fight back against the more formidable devils. As the tide of battle turns, Endriel senses a presence behind him.   The rakshasa of their contract, in the form of a humanoid white tiger, welcomes them and says how much its enjoyed the game of cat and mouse as it darts through the crowd, slashing and cursing all three companions. The battle continues, the rakshasa proving to be a formidable foe capable of resisting magical effects and attacks. While the companions stand their ground and endure the fiend's assault, the rakshasa ultimately escapes back to the Nine Hells before it can be dealt a lethal blow, but not before promising Thaust to see them again and offering to "show them a magic trick."   With the rakshasa retreating, Thaust destroys the statue to Asmodeus. The stone cauldron splits, the fire dissipating into only smoke and ashes, the status crumbling with a burst of white light and radiant warmth until all that's left is the pedestal holding up a pair of cloven hooves. As the dust settles, the party hear Caladorn's final words, "Thank you, please...save Waterdeep from my son's ambition."   With midnight fast approaching, the party see to their wounds and race upstairs to catch the Last Lie toast.  

The Last Lie Toast

  As the clock strikes nearer to midnight, the Cassalanter’s guests press into the grand ballroom in anticipation of the Last Lie. The final toast of the evening which marks the end of the facades and playing at other roles. For when the clock chimes, church bells across Waterdeep ringing throughout the Wards, the world returns to the way it has always been. Masks dropped, costumes set aside. At least, that’s what the existence of a Liar’s Night would suggest. But deep down, you and everyone in this room knows it is merely an excuse to don the disguises physically worn invisibly the other days of the year.   On a dias in the middle of the room stand the man and woman of the hour, Victoro and Ammalia Cassalanter in their purple and gold costumes trimmed in platinum white. They wear theatrical wooden masks, his of a contentious countenance with an eccentric mustache, hers a visage of ecstasy with rosy, dimpled cheeks. With a flourish of his hand, he prestidigitates the clinking of glasses, quieting the gathered guests, raising his glass.   “We come, at last, to the end of this charade, setting aside the prolonged pleasantries we’ve endured. My disgusting, dishonorable guests, trespassers and vagrants the lot of you. It is with great contempt and relief I bid thee all a terrible evening and a worse year between now and whence that’ll shall next darken our door in this hideous affair. May your crops rot in salted fields, your ships be overtaken by rogue waves out of harbor, your family estranged and your name be like dirt in the mouth of your friends. Would we be so lucky as for you to depart this world in haste, never to return. Empty your glasses and burden us no longer!”   Glasses clink and cheers and applause burst from the crowd as they drink and toast and enjoy the last few moments of merriment before the evening concludes.   The first bell of midnight tolls. Across the room, you hear gasps. The crowd is so thick, you can’t see what’s happened.   The second bell. To your left, a man staggers as if he’s had too much to drink, and falls to the floor.   The third bell. Another thud somewhere behind you. A shrill shriek pierced the air between bells.   The fourth. Another collapse. You can feel the crowds fear freezing them in place, palpable.   The fifth. A muffled cry cut short. Shouts breaking out across the room.   The sixth, a woman to your right buckles at the knees, untouched. She dies before a shriek leaves her lips.   The seventh, eighth and ninth bells bring more of the same.   By the tenth, the crowd descends into a stampede, rushing to the door, howls of shock and terror. Another guest falls to the floor, dead.   The eleventh, a man in the costume of a fey creature stumbles on his way down the stairs, falling into the crowd, like debris amongst the chaos and confusion.   And on the twelth bell, you watch Ellian drop his glass, the veins around his lips blackened, and he falls to the floor.