This is a recap of my ongoing solo game of D&D. You don’t need to plough through all prior material to enjoy this, as it’s fairly easy to pick up what’s going on. This session has some content from Baldur’s Gate: Descent Into Avernus – specifically chapter 3; Avernus. But encounters have been switched up, and plot hooks have been reflavoured, to the point where it’s almost unrecognisable – and you won’t be spoiled, either.

Currently, the party is looking for the key to freeing their town from the nine hells: a fortress resembling an infected wound.

Crunch

I’m going with the hexcrawl thing I laid out at the end of last post. Because I’m not a masochist, I’ve asked the oracle if I can pretty please roll on the location list at disadvantage, so average party level of 6.5 isn’t facing a level 9 challenge. It surprisingly said yes.



Endless smoke billows before them. The hum of their twin-EPEs joins the murderous rumbling of the retreating mega-volcano, with the occasional far off explosion punctuating the monotony.

Melody: Before all this demon spit, I was gonna take a trip around the island. See the sights, get a feel for the different elements before-*KAUGH* Ugh. Before travelling to the actual plane, you know? This place… wasn’t on my list.

Larissa: And yet, here you are.

They attempt to keep to the safer-looking terrain, staying a good fifty meters above the rocky ground. Off in the distance, they can occasionally spy titanic armies engaging in a seemingly endless battle.

Jevak: Why they fffight own selvesss?

Larissa: Fiends are creatures of hatred, but above all they hate their own kind. Demons and devils have always opposed each other – even now, when they appear to be allied in some instances, they are still at each other’s throats.

Elion: I thought Mirlings were similar? Aren’t your people fighting all the time?

Jevak: For power? Yes. For hate? No. Cannot corrrrupt what already corrrrrupt.

They pass over a mile-deep ravine filled with green slime, passing through a gateway of flame to a much flatter area. Jevak spies a beacon of sorts to their left: flying close, the light reveals itself to be a magical orb surrounding a gargantuan wolf-like creature with wings. Its fur and feathers glow golden, a welcome and holy sight compared to the malicious flames they just left. The beacon is suspended between two metal pillars shaped like antlers.

Elion: Is that a…?

Larissa: Get closer, I can speak with it!

Elion hovers the craft close to the crackling sphere while Larissa telepathically speaks to the creature.

Larissa: He is a celestial! He has been imprisoned here for long, too long. *nods to Elion in excitement* I believe he speaks truly. The power that binds him is drawn from the metal.

They land their twins-EPEs and prepare to unload on the wall. Immediately after Elion fires his gauntlets, a harsh voice calls out from far behind them.

Devil: I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.

The team spin around, ready to blast the twenty foot winged fiend into oblivion, but he hurriedly adds:

Devil: I mean you no harm! We may have similar goals. You are from the city, yes?

Elion: Uhh.. *hesitates, glancing at Larissa* Should we be talking to him?

Larissa: Say what you would, fiend.

Devil: I can help you dethrone the Lady of Scars. She has no right to rule this layer – I would see her locked away for eternity.

Larissa: As would we.

The horned devil still stands at the edge of the dais upon which the pillars stand, roughly a hundred feet away. The party cautiously approach, their weapons readied.

Larissa: We have a common enemy, it would seem. How do you intend to aid us?

Devil: Before her, the title of archdevil was held by a fiend known as Bel. I am bound to this prison, as much an inmate as that Simurg. *gestures to the celestial* If you free me I will lead you to Bel’s lair, and together we can plot the downfall of the Lady of scars.

Elion: How exactly do you want us to free you? Cuz it totally looks like you’re moving around fine.

Devil: *shoots him a glare* Imbecile. I am infernally obligated to guard this place – even if I try to leave, I will find myself returning. But!… There may be a way to circumvent the order. The seer will know how. *points off into the distance, a little to the left of where they’d arrived from.* You may find her if you follow the plains that way, to the forest of bones.

Larissa: *smiles* Thank you.

And with that, she slams the fiend with a telekinetic punch, before turning to run back to the dais centre.

Larissa: Take down the pillars! He cannot set foot on here!

The party follow her and begin hacking at the metal, while the fiends screams at them to stop. When offering all kinds of other deals fails, he begins slinging fire at them from where he stands, spitting and cursing. Elion takes the brunt of the damage while using his spellguard shield to negate some. The combined damage from his force blasts, Mel’s battleaxe, and Larissa’s silvered longsword soon eat through the pillar and collapse it.

The sphere slowly descends – but as it fades, the devil swoops forward with a screech, now free to approach them. But a telekinetic blast from Larissa sends him sprawling prone. He manages to lash out at Elion, cutting deep into an opening his armour, before Melody and Jevak dart forward to hold him off.

A thunderous howl cuts through the ring of their weapons: the Simurg is freed! It lands next to Elion, the ground shaking beneath its paws. A healing light washes over the elf as the devil scrambles to retreat, screaming in frustration as it flaps away.

Elion: *groans, rolling over* Next time, let’s maybe get a heads up when we’re done negotiating, m’kay?

Jevak: Why kill? Could have helped.

Larissa: Believe me when I say it is better not to become entangled in the politics of devils. I prefer a celestial as an ally. *bows before the Simurg* Besides, if this seer lives up to her title, she may well know the location of the infected fortress.

They rest for a little while upon the ruined prison, bringing the Simurg up to date with their situation. The creature is compassionate to their plight, and promises to help them in any way it can. The sheer size of the thing would allow them all to fly on its back with ease, but they stick to their twin-EPEs for now.

They set off across the vast flat-ish area in search of a forest made of bones. They spy a looming obsidian tower, and head towards it only to hastily backtrack when a stubby-necked ice dragon lazily flaps into view.

Elion: Yep, nope!

He’s still making light of their situation, but the rest of the party has become much more sombre over the three hours since leaving Rahm Oru. The oppressive smoke cuts at their lungs with each breath, and reddens their eyes. The harsh environment is slowly getting to them – so it’s a welcome sight when they push through the mist to speed over a thick sprawl of warped, bone-white trees.

Mel: This is it! It’s gotta be.

Deep within the skeletal trees and wickedly sharp undergrowth lies a maze of sorts, covered by an overhead thatch of brambles. Elion makes a couple of passes over the area to memorise the layout before they land at one of the entrances. The Simurg is far too big for the maze, so it agrees to watch over the vehicles outside.

Elion: I’m not gonna lie – this look a lot less friendly than I imagined.

Jevak: What did expect forest of bone to look??

Elion: Uhh, not like the combined skeletons of an entire dragon lineage?

It’s a spine-tingling experience, walking through the thicket of bones. They tangle and claw overhead like a distorted ribcage – so twisted that Elion quickly loses his way. They’re accosted by a group of animated bones that pierce and stick into the fleshy mortals, who only escape with their lives when Larissa’s fear blast sends them clicking and chattering back to where they came from.

Elion gets them back on the path again, this time arriving at the centre of the maze: A rotting tent made of skin, bone, and organs. A mace encrusted with gems rests on a grill over a black-flamed campfire: the obsidian metal appears to be slowly melting.

Elion: …Hello?

Larissa: We have come to speak with the seer!

The tent flap is pushed aside as a horrendously ugly woman creeps out. Giant translucent boils and missing pieces of flesh reveals the white of her bones beneath, and her cunning eyes flash when she speaks.

Seer: Human, Human, Elf… *Unotros.*

Jevak: *narrows his big purple eyes* (Tenebran) You speak the shadow tongue?

The seer laughs, her teeth clicking, but otherwise doesn’t reply. Larissa explains the purpose of their visit: divining the location of the infected fortress. The hag says she knows of a place that fits that description, but she’ll need a favour first. She tells them of her plight – long ago, she was a member of the seelie court under princess Titania. But when the court was scattered by the princess’s disappearance, she was one of they fey who migrated to Tirkosu to run rampant across the island. Upon Titania’s return, she was cursed along with her kin – a curse that carried on into the afterlife.

Crunch

MUNE Intervention: Wild positive

Portent: Lyrical Plight



Now, she is forever destined to be wretched – but she still longs for the beauty of the seelie court. She has been collecting gems and other trinkets given as gifts by her visitors, but the one thing she misses most is music. The sound of satyr pipes, the chorus of the dryads, the mellow tones of the river prince… If the party can bring the joy of music to her ears, she will grant them their desired knowledge.

And so Melody sings, a little awkward at fist, but gaining confidence as the song goes on. She left her arcanalute back in Rahm Oru’s catacombs, but her voice still carries the haunting gravity of those who knew life on the infinite city.

When we cross our hearts and we hope to die

When the lights are out leaving empty sky

And the thought of life has no reason why

And we’re bleeding out ’til we’re all but dry

And we’re naught but pain, driven us insane

Given no real choice, but we’re all to blame

For the hate, for our state, the internal debate

Make a change, and escape, or make peace with our fate

Either way we cannot negate

That our time is near, paradigm is set

So before we die out, make a brand new start

We can all set us free from the bleeding hearts.

Never given what we’re needing

Bleeding hearts die out

Give us one good reason to keep

bleeding, hearts die out

Thoughts laid bare but no one hears them

Bleeding hearts die out

Give us one good reason to keep

bleeding, hearts die out

We’re the bleeding hearts, we’re the bleeding hearts

We’re the bleeding hearts, we’re the bleeding hearts…

Crunch

Natural 20 on the Performance check.👌



The seer wipes her nose, sniffing as the song ends. She reaches out to Mel for a hug, which she VERY reluctantly accepts. Then she reveals the location of the “Bleeding Citadel”, as she calls it: If they journey back to the Simurg’s prison, heading slightly to the right, they’ll come across some hot springs. Making a sharp right turn, they’ll end up at the citadel within the hour.

They thanks her and part ways, rejoining the relieved Simurg outside the maze. Everyone’s pretty battered from the encounter with the bone golems, so Elion suggests they find a safe place to rest along the way.

The journey back is as arduous as the way there, every minute seeming to stretch out further than the crimson rocky crags beneath them. After what seems an eternity of flying through the smoke, they finally spot the hot springs – which turn out to be a little more on the scaldingly boiling side of hot. It is proper water however (instead of blood or ichor), so the Simurg is able to purify some to consume with their rations.

Larissa: Melody, I must ask: did all those on the infinite city bear a psychic connection?

Mel: *sips from Elion’s helmet, gently shaking her head* Mm-mm. Just the ones with the know-how to implant the port, or with enough rations to pay someone to do it.

Larissa: I see. Then, you understand where this power comes from?

Mel: The mind, correct?

Larissa: So it would appear. However, the mind is not an element – yet our abilities act in a much similar manner. I have often wondered if there is more to the nature of psionics than meets the eye.

Elion: It might be a quasi-element, like emotion. That’s basically what the fey are like: emotion elementals.

Mel: If anyone would have answers, it would be the Zailan. He… I heard they treat psionics almost religiously. They preserved the old ways of keeping it purely in your own mind. Like you do. Whereas the Valkeesh focused on enhancing their strength through… other means… *thoughtfully rubs the back of her neck*

Jevak: *rolls over with an annoyed grunt* All should have quiet. Shadow best element. No more sssaid.

And there they rest, by the bubbling lake under the smoky black sky, lying on the golden feathers of their celestial ally. Six hours since they left Rahm Oru to try and prevent its doom.