ROTR Session 17

Your inferno shall set the land ablaze: II

In the space between heartbeats, time seemed to slow. Vannrik surveyed the chaos. His hands were still wet with the Ocean’s Balm used to mend Rabie. The Yeth Hound barreled toward them, a blur of fangs and fury. Rabie, eyes locked on the goblin chieftain who wore his ring, seemed to have forgotten his own survival—a worrying sign.
Just a step away, a vicious goblin jumped up and down gleefully, jabbing its horsechopper again and again into the prone bodies of two Sandpoint guards. Another goblin, snarling, dashed in to join the slaughter.
Nualia retreated towared the dais and the flaming altar, an arrow protruding from her exposed back, crossbow bolts buried in her armor like steel thorns. Sheriff Hemlock was in relentless pursuit, close behind her with a volley of arrows and bolts still flying over head.
Ripnugget, fresh blood on his blade, abandoned his kill and turned to intercept the Sheriff. His gecko hissed, its claws scraping the stone as it repositioned on the steps.
Jinx lay in a pool of his own blood, guarded by only one of Ripnugget’s lackeys. But thanks to Cletus’s spell, the gnome still breathed. He weakly crawled, dragging scattered Harrow cards toward his chest with trembling hands.
Across the temple, Cletus watched in horror. Was there still a way to save the fallen aasimar from her own hubris? And if not her, was there still hope for him? Could Andromeda save them both?
Then Vannrik’s gaze landed on the goblin warchanter. It stood frozen, staring at Nualia with something like heartbreak. The creature reached out its grubby hand and screamed, “Mistress, nooo!”

And just like that—time came crashing back like a wave.
The goblin uttered an incantation, a pitiful chant meant to mend Nualia’s wounds. As it reached the high note, the spell took hold—her flesh knit together slowly, and one of the crossbow bolts clattered to the floor from her leg. The goblin jumped up in triumph, belting out its horrid song in celebration.
Vannrik groaned. Weeks of enduring goblin antics and their wretched singing had worn him thin. From the corner of his eye, he saw the Sheriff wince—clearly suffering the same.
But the screeching only stoked Hemlock’s fury. He surged forward, closing the distance just as Nualia neared Lamashtu’s fire. His blade found its mark, driving deep into her back.
Nualia hit the floor hard, skidding across the blood-slick stone, her form crumpling in the heart of the temple. She lay there, sprawled, bleeding out beneath the gaze of the dark goddess. The goblins shrieked in unison—fear, rage, confusion—filling the temple with their panicked howls.
But the Sheriff was unmoved.
His eyes locked onto the nearest goblin—the same one he’d just seen craftily twisting its horsechopper into a Sandpoint guardsman—and he stepped toward it with deadly intent.
From the doorway, another Sandpoint guard stepped into the fray, spear in hand. With a cry of vengeance for his fallen brother, he hurled the weapon at the cackling goblin—but the spear clattered harmlessly against a pillar. He grimaced.
Too many bodies in the way.
Almost in unison, the crossbowmen redirected their aim from the crumpled form of Nualia to the goblin chieftain atop his snarling gecko. A fresh volley of bolts tore through the air.
Ripnugget charged forward, darting past Nualia’s bleeding form. His shortsword jutted out like a lance as he rammed into the Sheriff, driving the blade deep enough to pierce through chainmail. Belor staggered, his tunic soaked with blood.
From behind a pillar, a sneaky goblin refused to relent. It loosed an arrow and grinned as it sank into the shoulder of one of Magnimar’s sentries.
One of the fallen Sandpoint guards gasped for breath as he scrambled away from the horsechopper slashing at him. Seizing his dropped spear, he raced after the Yeth Hound that had barreled past, striking its flank and stealing some of its momentum.
Shalelu’s eyes remained locked on Ripnugget. But the chaos of battle was constant, the guards and sentinels darting across the blood-slick floor. A clear shot was hard to find.
One sentry found better footing. “Nice shot, Sheriff! Now watch me!” she called. Her crossbow twanged, and a bolt punched into Ripnugget’s shoulder. She reloaded with a pleased grin.
Rabie’s gaze burned purple as the charging hound neared. He turned sharply to the goblin chief and loosed a spell. Ripnugget, howling from his wound, suddenly burst into nervous, wheezing laughter. His eyes darted in panic as a manic grin twisted his face. From above, Ghurab—still haloed in maggots—mimicked the chieftain’s laughter mockingly.
“Sir, move!” a sentry shouted.
Jinx heard the laughter, the bolts, the shouts—but ignored them. Reaching inward for a spell, he found only emptiness. Thinking quickly, he dug through his pockets for gingerpowder. Mixing it with the blood around him, he smeared it across himself and rolled into the slick pool. His form blurred, camouflaged, as if sinking into the temple floor.
Then came the sound that froze blood: a baleful, otherworldly howl. The Yeth Hound bayed, and dread swept through the ranks. Even the bravest slowed their advance. The danger was far from over.
But Cletus had an answer to the abyss. He lifted his hand and summoned divine light. A radiant figure descended: Andromeda.
“Andromeda! As promised, I survived!” he shouted.
“You barely did, judging by the blood on your clothes,” she replied with disapproval. “It was about time you summoned me, fool!”
Vannrik watched as the last remaining Sandpoint guard scrambled upright, panic etched across his face. With no regard for goblins or their blades, he fled toward the temple doors, the hound’s howls at his heels.
A crafty goblin made to pursue—but Sheriff Belor stood in its way. The goblin swung low, aiming to trip him, but Belor stomped down on the weapon and sent the creature sprawling.
The vicious goblin stepped back warily, torn between awe and fear of the monstrous hound. Spotting Vannrik distracted—his attention on Rabie and the hound—the goblin lunged. Vannrik hit the ground hard, a painful slice tearing across his leg.
The goblin lackey blinked. The gnome had vanished. Then a sword descended from the above—Andromeda. The goblin snarled and hacked at the divine weapon, its own blade clashing wildly with steel from the heavens.
Vannrik sprang to his feet. Ripnugget, the vicious goblin, and the warchanter had unknowingly begun to huddle around Nualia’s fallen form. It was now or never. With a flick of his wrist, Vannrik summoned winter’s fury. A clutch of snow and biting ice blanketed the dais. The firelight dimmed, blood vanishing beneath the frost. The enemies flinched, scattering from the worst of the spell.
The warchanter, shivering, kept singing—desperate and shrill—and continued weaving magic.
And beneath the snow’s white shroud… something began to stir.

  The sheriff engaged the chieftain with practiced, deliberate swings of his longsword. Each parry from Ripnugget came with a jittery “Ha!” and a manic gniffle. Belor knocked the goblin’s blade high and drove his sword into Ripnugget’s breastplate.
“Argh!” the goblin chief screamed.
Behind him, Nualia stirred beneath the snow. She drew a ragged breath, her face pale with panic and frostbite. With a whisper lost in the chaos, she sprang to her feet and darted toward the southern door with unnatural speed. As she passed, her eyes locked with Cletus—rage, fear, betrayal, and grief churned behind them. Her cheeks were slick with snowmelt and tears. The message in her glance was clear: Vengeance will come. Then she vanished into the prison room.
The guard who had just thrown his spear now drew a dagger and moved to flank the chieftain. Ripnugget spun toward the new threat just as a crossbow bolt whistled past his ear and struck his nearby lackey in the neck. His command to keep the prisoners secured had failed—and Nualia had left him to die.
“Hahahaha!” he howled, laughter still forced from his throat by Rabie’s magic. He saw no escape—only blood. The goblin chief abandoned thought. He swung wildly, hacking again and again until blood splattered his face and the remaining goblins dared to cheer.
With glassy eyes and blind instinct, Ripnugget turned toward the temple doors, his gecko trampling over Belor Hemlock’s bleeding body. The Magnimar sentries braced for impact while dodging arrows loosed from the sneaky goblin behind the pillar.
Across the chamber, the guard Jacob pressed his advantage. Hungry for that promotion, he lunged at the Yeth Hound with his spear. The beast howled, this time in pain. Undeterred, the guard stabbed again, driving the point into its flank.
Bolts and arrows flew at Ripnugget, but the chieftain ducked low on his mount. One of the sentries broke rank and sprinted around the goblin, vial in hand. She slid to Belor’s side and poured the healing potion into his mouth.
“Welcome back, Sheriff,” she said.
Belor’s eyes flew open, and he inhaled sharply.
“Thank you,” he mouthed.
Rabie narrowed his gaze. The chieftain was escaping—with his ring. Rage bubbled into a froth at the edges of his lips. He raised both arms toward Ripnugget, whose mount wobbled under the weight of fear. Even from afar, the goblin could see Rabie’s violet-stained eyes and the jeering raven above him. Terror gripped his heart.
Behind Rabie, the Yeth Hound lunged onto the Sandpoint guard and dragged him screaming to the floor. Then it turned and clamped its jaws around Rabie’s chest, snapping its head side to side. As Rabie’s vision blurred, he caught a glimpse of radiant light heading toward the prison room.
Amid the chaos, Jinx gathered his remaining Harrow cards and crept toward the goblin warchanter. Behind him, the voice of Andromeda echoed like thunder:
“Pretender. False angel!”
The blade soared after the fleeing aasimar.
“Don’t stop me, Cletus!”
Down the hallway to the abandoned feast hall, Nualia fled deeper. Andromeda surged forward, closing in.
“Even if it costs me everything, Iomedae will not allow you to flee!”
“Inheritor, guide my blade—strike down the unjust!”
The blade came down in a furious vertical slash, the tip brushing Nualia’s armor before slamming into cold stone.
Back in the temple, a crafty goblin used the shaft of his horsechopper to lever himself upright. He spotted Belor struggling to stand—and struck.
“Stay away from the boss!” the goblin snarled, driving his weapon into the Sheriff’s armpit.
Another goblin hacked down the guard who had come to flank Ripnugget.
Vannrik raised his hand. Even a panicked Ripnugget was dangerous. With a flick of his wrist, a warhammer of solid ice materialized. He hurled it at the fleeing chieftain. It struck Ripnugget square in the face, shattering teeth and sending him off his Gecko. The chieftain skidded over the floor.
Cletus lingered in the temple’s corner, grinding his teeth at the goblin’s song. Nualia and Ripnugget were on the run—but the Yeth Hound and goblin warriors remained.
THWUNK! An arrow embedded itself in the stone wall an inch from his face. The warchanter, now wielding a bow, was also not finished.

  IInches from death, Nualia launched into spellcasting. She had practiced the invocation countless times—begging the Mother of Monsters to shelter her vessel.
Her steps didn’t falter. Andromeda thundered after her, relentless.
“You think you’re safe from my wrath? I’ll fight you to my last heavenly breathe!” the blade shrieked.
Nualia bit her lip, resisting the dark cravings that clawed at her thoughts.
Survival mattered more than revenge. For now.
“You’ve drawn your last breath, goblin!” roared the guardsman standing over Belor. His spear lunged for Ripnugget—but the goblin’s gecko lashed its tail, deflecting the thrust.
Ripnugget’s eyes were glazed; drool clung to his jaw. With nothing left but fear, he scrambled atop his mount and kicked it hard. The beast rocketed forward, blasting past sentries, past Shalelu, into the hallway beyond.
From behind a temple pillar, a sneaky goblin watched his leader flee. Two instincts wrestled inside him—follow, or hide.
Hiding won.
He waited, crouched in shadow, as the sentries turned to the hallway, unaware of his presence.
Meanwhile, Guard Jacob’s breath began to steady.
Shalelu stepped into the hallway and loosed two arrows. One found its mark, striking Ripnugget in the back. The goblin’s howl shattered Rabie’s laughter spell—pain overwhelmed the magic. Still, Ripnugget clung to his mount. Freedom lay ahead, beyond the feast hall, up the stairs to the fortress.
With the mounted chief gone, a sentry refocused.
Release. Reload. Release.
Two bolts pierced the Yeth Hound’s hide, forcing it to drop Rabie.
The beast spun toward a new threat—Vannrik. But its blood loss was slowing it down.
Beneath a blanket of snow near the dais, a goblin lackey stirred—the one who had guarded Jinx. Jinx, still masked by the mixture, crept forward and reclaimed the corpse’s bow and arrows. He slinked further, his true goal the heavy sack guarded by the warchanter.
Cletus shook free from Andromeda’s pull just enough to act.
“No, Andromeda, I deny you your vengeance on demons. We must first save our new friends.” he groaned.
“But Cletus—Aargh!” Andromeda’s voice rang from beond the chamber.
He moved into the chaos: goblins, the Yeth Hound, his wounded allies. A healing spell shimmered to life and floated on a breeze of divine will. It wrapped Rabie, sealing wounds, drawing him back from the brink.
When Ripnugget vanished from sight, the goblins’ morale collapsed.
The vicious one fled south, toward the prison room.Spotting the floating blade, he pivoted—straight into the jailer’s chamber, where Sentinels had once taken cover.
The other goblin, ran past the sentries andbolted north.
The sneaky goblin from before crept to the corner, timing his run for the exit.
Vannrik danced around the Yeth Hound’s snapping jaws. He waited, poised, as it lunged—then pivoted with a twirl. Snow and ice swirled into a heavy fist around his hand.
With a crushing hook, he shattered the beast’s jaw mid-leap. Without hesitation, he sprinted to Sheriff Hemlock and uncorked a herbal remedy over the man’s wounds.
Across the room, the goblin warchanter huffed and dragged the sack of Sentinel gear with all its strength, inching closer to the temple doors.
The Jadwiga twirled on the ball of his feet, that’s when he gathered a packed mass of ice and snow around his fist.

  The sheriff stirred once more into consciousness.
He reached for his blade and struggled to stand, the fire within him refusing to be snuffed out.
With shaking hands, he pulled a healing potion from his pack and drank deeply before charging back into the fray.
  Nualia sprinted through the abandoned feast hall, her breaths ragged, her strides long.
She threw herself against the northeastern wall, stealing a moment to regain control.
The Aasimar clawed for another spell—Lamashtu had invested too much to let her fall now.
Wounds closed, forcing bolt and arrow out from her flesh with sickening pops.
Then she waited.
  One of the remaining Sandpoint guards rushed to his fallen comrade Jacob and poured a potion between his lips.
  Julia, one of the sentries from Magnimar, sprinted into the hall behind Shalelu.
She waited for the perfect moment—when the goblin chieftain reached for the arrow in his back—and fired.
The bolt struck clean through the skull.
Ripnugget tumbled from his gecko mount and crashed lifeless to the floor of the feast hall.
The gecko didn’t even notice, scrambling up the stairs to the fortress.
“Look! I took out the goblin leader!” Julia shouted triumphantly to her comrades.
  Back in the temple, Jacob pushed himself upright.
“I’m still going to take out more enemies than you!” he called out, charging the fleeing warchanter.
He speared the wailing creature and pinned it to the pillar.
The goblin shrieked—until Shalelu’s arrow pierced one ear and exited the other.
Jacob groaned.
Another kill stolen.
Before he could reach the sneaky goblin hiding in the corner, another sentry finished the job.
  With the way cleared, Jinx darted forward, matching Andromeda’s bravery.
He sprinted into the corridor, leapt over Ripnugget’s corpse, and landed in the feast hall—face-to-face with Nualia.
She pulled the last bolt from the crevice in her pauldron and let it clatter to the ground.
She met the gnome with a wicked grin.
  More followed: Rabie, Vannrik, Belor,guards, and Shalelu guarding the rear.
Cletus and Jacob circled around, taking a different route through the prison room.
Nualia awaited them all, smiling.
  “This time you cannot stop me, Cletus!” Andromeda yelled, closing the gap between them.
“This time I will cast down the false angel!” The blade slashed toward Nualia.
But the Aasimar knocked it aside with a swipe of her clawed hand.
  “Watch me take out two leaders of Thistletop!” Julia boasted.
She raised her crossbow and fired, the bolt whistling through the air—only to veer off, missing its mark entirely.
Lamashtu’s dark sanctuary held firm around her priestess.
“I… I can’t do it...” the Magnimarian sentry whispered, disbelief in her voice.
  Cletus and Jacob charged toward the feast hall, Jacob passing the tiefling a healing potion mid-stride.
As the chamber came into view, they saw Shalelu’s arrows harmlessly glance off Nualia’s glowing form.
  The Aasimar placed a clawed hand over her heart, inhaled deeply—then unleashed a scream that shook the chamber.
“O LAMASHTU,
JACKAL-WOMB OF ENDLESS SPAWN,
FEATHER-CROWNED QUEEN WHO MOTHERS MONSTROSITY,
I KNEEL AMID KINDLING AND BLOOD, AND OFFER FLAME!”
  A wave of unnatural energy surged outward.
Everyone in the room felt it—a skin-crawling presence both searing and freezing, tearing at their very essence.
Still, Nualia pressed on, her voice amplified beyond mortal capacity, her eyes wild with religious fervor.
  “THESE ARE YOUR SACRIFICES—SQUIRMING AND SCREAMING,
THEIR SOFT FLESH BURNS AS TESTAMENT.
THEIR SUFFERING IS MY HYMN.
THEIR AGONY, MY INCENSE!”
  Cletus watched, horrified, as the skin of guards, of Jinx, Vannrik, Rabie—of everyone—began to crack and peel like ashes from charred paper.
He gasped as Andromeda dulled, her glow flickering, brittle and dim.
Through their link, he felt it—the withering of his own flesh.
The cork to the healing potion trembled in his hands. He fumbled. Too late.
  “I GIVE YOU THEIR BREATH AS SMOKE.
I GIVE YOU THEIR BONES AS CHARCOAL.
I GIVE YOU THEIR FEAR TO FATTEN YOUR GLORY.
UNMAKE THEM, AS YOU UNMADE ME!”
  The Sentinels’ bodies cracked and flaked away under the weight of divine ruin.
Nualia inhaled, readying another burst of sacred wrath.
  “O LAMASHTU, TEAR AWAY WHAT REMAINS OF MY MORTAL—AARGH!”
  The sanctuary shattered.
A bolt pierced her breastplate, and a cough of blood spilled from her lips.
But still, she continued.
  Jinx searched for an opening, but the pain was blinding—just like on the altar, when he nearly lost himself.
He could feel his skin, his soul, slipping away.
  “REPLACE IT WITH YOUR MARK—HORN, CLAW, AND SHADOW!”
  Rabie gritted his teeth and pushed forward, dragging his pain with each step.
Nualia’s focus was still locked on her unholy litany—she wouldn’t see him coming.
He wove a spell, and confusion crept into her mind like ivy.
Her stare lost its fire, her jaw loosened, her words slurred.
For the first time, fear cracked through her divine intensity.
  Vannrik limped through the oppressive aura, arms raised, conjuring an icy scythe into being.
With a howl, he brought it down, slicing through Nualia’s breastplate and across her exposed belly.
The pain yanked her back to the moment.
  “AAAE—I WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE WHOLE, ONLY HOLY IN YOUR NAME!” Nualia screamed, eyes rolled back, blood pooling beneath her feet.
  Sheriff Belor Hemlock staggered to Vannrik’s side, each movement peeling skin from his bones.
He roared through the agony, remembering the girl Nualia once was—before all this madness.
He drove his blade into her side.
She gasped, barely standing, but seized his wrist with a clawed hand, anchoring herself.
  “I BURN THESE OFFERINGS THAT I MAY BE REBORN AGAIN!”
  A crossbow bolt flew past the sheriff’s shoulder, missing by an inch.
  “LEAD ME NOW TO YOUR CHOSEN—MALFESHNEKOR,
THE ANCIENT BEAST,
BOUND IN STONE AND RA—”
  Another bolt struck her chest—deep.
Nualia flew backward, her skull cracking against the temple’s stone wall with a sickening finality.
She collapsed to the floor.
Her body twitched once, then fell still, bleeding freely.
The prayer died with her lips.
The spell ended.
  Julia lowered her crossbow and exhaled.

 

The body

The sentinels—guards and survivors alike—stood in hushed silence. Blood pooled beneath Nualia's body, untouched. A few tense heartbeats later, frantic panting broke the quiet as Rabie rushed to Ripnugget’s lifeless form. With a greedy flick of the wrist, the witch slipped the ring from the goblin’s finger and slid it onto his own. Relief washed over him as a sense of normalcy returned.
Around Rabie, the others were catching their breath, offering each other quiet congratulations. Julia drew particular praise, her face streaked with blood and ash but glowing with pride. Belor and Shalelu approached, tired but upright.
"We have a few remaining guards upstairs," Belor said, his voice strained.
With the danger past, Shalelu’s squirrels timidly poked their heads from her backpack.
"When my friends came to get me I thought you had already slain the chief and Nualia," she said, eyeing the battered heroes. "I'm happy we got here in time." Her expression darkened when she caught sight of Jinx’s smokey white eye.
Vannrik stood up straighter.
"Yeah, thank you very much for that. We got overwhelmed by the whole fort at once."
Jinx waved a dismissive hand.
"Just a little bit," he added with dry sarcasm.
"A fair bit. There were just too many," Vannrik pressed.
"We saw a sort of dog kennel upstairs, with a number of fresh goblin corpses," Belor said.
A murmur passed between them as they pieced it together: the goblins killed earlier must’ve been fed to the goblindogs while the Sentinels were imprisoned.
Nearby, Cletus quietly cast another healing spell. Vannrik moved to Nualia’s body and gently arranged her belongings beside her—medallion, weapons, an obsidian gem, and a small pewter tiger. Cletus stood beside him, then closed Nualia’s eyes with solemn care.
From over Vannrik’s shoulder, Belor watched with a conflicted expression—relief tangled with mourning.
"So, what happened?" he asked. Rabie returned to the center, and Jinx stood beside him, Ripnugget’s blade still in hand. "Why did this happen?"
"She believed in a false god," Rabie said.
The sheriff gave a slow, weary nod.
"She was a cultist of Lamashtu, I presume. Seeing the temple..." He cursed softly in his native tongue. "Right under our noses." He studied the Sentinels. "And that is why she wanted to destroy Sandpoint? Because of Lamashtu?"
Jinx shook his head.
"It was a little bit deeper than that. She held a hatred for the people of the town because people saw her like a freak. And then her stepfather tried to—" he corrected himself, "—not tried. Killed. He killed her offspring and burned it. So she hated him, she hated the town." A sigh escaped him. "She hated all of us."
"She was pregnant?" Belor asked, stunned.
"Yes, she was," Jinx replied.
Belor ripped off his mail coif and let it drop. Gone was his traditional clean-shaven scalp—his fingers ran through new hair as he rubbed his temple, trying to make sense of it all.
"By Desna’s wings..."
He looked to them again.
"And what she said at the end. This... Malfeshnekor? Do you have any idea what that is about?"
Rabie nodded slowly.

"I only know it from ancient Varisian legends. But it's just a story." He glanced at the others. "In Varisian storytelling, Malfeshnekor is a demon. Either a servant, champion, or child to Lamashtu. Among goblins, the creature is regarded as a famous Goblin Hero. Some believed the creature was a Barghest."
The others nodded in grim recognition.
"Barghests are lupine fiends. They stalk the Material Plane in search of souls to sate their demonic hunger. Eons ago, they served Asmodeus in Hell—until Lamashtu adopted four of the strongest as pets. These were later venerated by goblinkin." Rabie’s voice lowered. "Barghests’ loyalties changed. Now they serve no one but themselves."
Belor’s eyes darted nervously toward the temple corridor.
"Those black dogs that were slain in the temple... They were not Barghests, I assume?"
Rabie shook his head.
The Sheriff’s shoulders tensed as he gave the Sentinels a hard look.
"Do you think we’re still in danger?"
"I think the danger has passed," Rabie answered.
Vannrik added,
"Well, we got rid of this crisis. But more might always be around the corner. We should not let our guard down, just because we’re safe now."
Jinx nodded. Belor's gaze turned distant.
"Never again," he murmured.
From the harem room doorway, a sound interrupted the silence. Shalelu kicked Bruthazmus’s still body, then spat on it before rejoining the group, this time standing close beside Rabie.
"We did the plan in the Nettlewood as we agreed," Belor said. "We formed a wedge formation and from what I’ve heard we didn’t suffer too many losses. Everyone worked together surprisingly well. I think part of it is due to all of your efforts."
Straightening, the sheriff addressed them with the weight of command.
"First of all, I want to thank you for everything that you have already done." He gave a respectful nod. "I do think we should stay here and look around. Watch for stragglers. Let’s make sure we got all of them."
Rabie gave a bloodied smile.
"Everything for Sandpoint."

They patched their wounds and prepared to move. Cletus and Vannrik lifted Nualia’s body and carried her up the stairs.
They passed through a strange, open room. The floor was hard-packed dirt, as if the builders had run out of lumber—or never cared to finish it. Along one wall, poorly preserved horse and dog heads hung grotesquely. On another, large black-feathered wings were pinned to the wood with daggers.
Rabie paused, staring at the wings. He remembered a tale of a harpy named Bristanch, who once lived along the coast. Ripnugget's victory over her was the stuff of goblin legend.
He lingered as Vannrik sought a path to the kennels and the caged horse beyond. Belor helped Cletus with the body. Together they crossed the bridge and reached the Nettlewood cliff.
In solemn silence, the tiefling dug the grave—joined by Jinx, Shalelu, and Belor. When it was ready, Rabie and Vannrik came to lower Nualia down.

"Thank you for saving our lives, captain," Cletus whispered. The sheriff rested a hand on the tiefling’s shoulder.
"Thank you for risking your life."
Cletus looked down at Nualia’s face, finally at peace.
"Tell me. She had everything, didn’t she? She had beauty. She had fame. She had the blood of angels for all we know."
"Yes," Jinx sighed.
"Was it really Sandpoint’s doing?" Cletus asked. "All that happened? What went wrong?"
"I think we didn’t treat her as we should have done over the past years. So, she had a valid point," Jinx said.
"You think Sandpoint was to blame?" Cletus pressed.
Jinx frowned.
"Well, it was a combination of circumstances if you ask me. Most of all her stepdad."
"But why? Why didn’t anyone see it? Why didn’t you see it?" Cletus asked Jinx, the Seer of Sandpoint.
Jinx’s voice softened.
"Well, I did see her. And I saw him. But I thought she escaped the flames and went out of town to just live a happy life. I never assumed, or thought that she would be up to this."
Belor clenched his jaw.
"It doesn’t matter what happened to her. Nobody deserved this. The town didn’t deserve this."
"No, we didn’t," the gnome said.
"It’s in the past now," Cletus murmured.
"This ordeal is over. And it was a bit of an exceptional situation as well," Vannrik said. "I don’t think it’s going to happen again, because the odds of that are just very tiny. I don’t think there is any point in lingering on it."
Cletus gaze lingered on the witch.
"Rabie," he asked, "she was born with angelic blood and yet she transformed into a monster. Do you think the opposite can be done as well? Can someone be born of, let’s say, demon blood, be turned into an angel?"
Rabie considered it.
"I think it doesn’t matter how you are born, it’s what you do in life that matters."
"That’s not an answer to my question..." Cletus began, but his words trailed off. Shalelu’s sudden scowl drew everyone’s attention.
She glared at Rabie, silently judging every word he spoke. Her conclusion was that it was all hypocricy.
"Is something wrong, Shalelu?" Jinx asked.
"Something that we need to know?" Cletus added.
Shalelu’s voice was cold and sharp.
"You never answered Nualia’s last question," she said, eyes locked on Rabie. "Where did you hide the body?"