The winds don't howl here. Instead, they scream.
These are not screams of pain. They are the screams of languish and torment. They are the screams of loss and agony and dread and fear. They are the screams of millennia of suffering. Of hate and misery and avarice.
They are the screams of hell.
More accurately, they are the screams of Cania, the eighth layer in the nine hells of Baator. Cania is the hell of endless, living cold. A swirling, moving, torment of shifting glaciers forever heaving and crashing into one another. Avalanches of snow and ice tumble from the highest frozen peaks, shedding down continents of frozen death, violently hurtling massive glaciers that crash into shards.
All the while, winds screaming.
Cania, a place inhospitable to all but the most resilient.
But those that do brave the frozen chaos can, through extraordinary chance, come across one of the long-lost laboratories of the archdevil Mephistopheles – places where the greatest wizard that ever lived –and the current ruler of this Hell – once tried to expand the boundaries of arcane possibility.
If you look closely now, you'll see a creature down there, struggling amidst the ice and sleet, to move forward. It's a Gelugon, of course – a blue and white bipedal mantis-like creature that roams Cania in search of any bits of power or might that the glaciers have set free. It's rare to see them alone out here, there are probably others just out of sight, but for the moment lets focus on this one.
Like most devils, this Gelugon has been embroiled in a dance for power for millennia, always looking for the scheme or fortune that would let it ascend up the echelons of Baator, but more frequently stumbling further down.
Not that long ago--some hundred years--this Gelugon existed as an Erinyes, a beautiful and disciplined winged warrior, a swift killer skilled in combat and corruption. Such was its life, and it continued doing so for generations, until it had collected enough Soul Coins to exchange for a reward.
That reward: a thousand days of excruciating agony that let it be reborn in this stronger form. A Gelugon. Now this creature looks to ascend again, although it has seemingly given up the search for Soul Coins in favor of searching for trinkets and treasure.
If it succeeds, it will be reborn once more, this time as a Pit Fiend. If it dies, it will stumble down the ranks and live once more as an Erinyes, or something even less powerful.
So let's take a minute and watch what it does, this Gelugon – this solitary explorer split from its party. It moves, scurrying on its insectoid legs across the glacier, back and forth for hours and days, until finally... Ah! It found something!
The Gelugon looks down into the ice and grabs its massive 18' spear and jams it into the ice below, looking to pry open a crack. And a crack does indeed open, but perhaps not in a way the devil expected.
With a crunching scream, a crevasse forms, a massive wedge-shaped opening in the glacier's surface. The Gelugon looks down, sees that the crevasse is growing, tearing apart the ice sheet, and it begins to run away. Instead the plateau suddenly drops down into the abyss below, and it and the Gelugon is swallowed by ice and nothingness.
The Gelugon will not find his promotion today. But it had, indeed, found something. And it did reveal an entrance when he cracked the ice.
Buried here, for who knows how many days or centuries, is a small cave, originally formed through the grace of chaos, but, at one point, turned into a refuge from this Hell. A laboratory. Perhaps of Mephistopheles. Perhaps of someone lost to the ages.
The cave -- which now opens 200' down on the side of an icy cliff -- provides a respite from the frigidity of Cania. And let us watch now as a figure of light apparates in this cave, this laboratory with long-frozen tables and desks and books and jars. This figure knows that this cave won't be accessible for always. They just need it to last long enough.
As the figure moves in the lab, it is orbited by a series of wisps, roiling and moving and swirling, but never too far away from its shimmering body.
The figure glides through the cave, placing a series of objects down. Carefully. Meticulously.
From outside, from above, the screams of the wind continue.
The first object it puts down is a pewter badge, an eight-pointed star with the top left and bottom-right most points extending beyond the rest.
As the figure places the badge on the ground, one of the wisps leaves its body and flows towards the pewter star. Swirling above it. Remembering.
The wisp recalls rage. It is that of a Minotaur. Big and strong with many scars all over it's body. It was a champion. A champion of it's tribe, of it's people. This Minotaur had a name. It's birth name was Angus Holstein. But it had another name. Those who knew it called it Tidal. A nickname. His last moments were violent. A duel. A fight. Circling his opponent until the final blow. A feeling of content knowing that he had found a worthy foe and died by their hand.
The wisp stops its swirling and flows into the badge.
The wind continues to scream.
The figure lays down a second item: another badge, this one from a cap, with an inscription that reads "For those that follow".
Like before, as the cap badge is placed down, a wisp leaves the figure's form and swirls above the object. Remembering.
The wisp recalls duty. The life of Dido Sarath. An elven women. A proud and formidable Warrior. But there was another path. An Avatar of the one known as Shevarash. A living weapon of vengeance and justice. Before the final stroke could be made towards the one that caused the second path, Dido had been struck down first in an ambush.
The wisp stops its swirling and flows into the item.
The figure takes out another object. This time a heavy knife, 8 inches long with a broad, rigid blade that curves slightly at the tip. The knife is placed on the ground and a wisp follows it.
The wisp recalls vengeance. A peerless Bugbear warrior who mastered the art of telling other's gruesome fate. Caravaggio, or simply known as "The Painter". His clan massacred by neighboring Hobgoblins tribes. An opus built on revenge was planned, but as a true tragic play, hubris barred it's way.
The wisp flows down into the knife, becoming one.
The figure takes out another item. A handmade pipe made of cherry wood. They place it on the ground with the others. Like before, a wisp follows it. Remembering.
The wisp recalls adventure. A Genasi. Flewid. A quest for a forgotten oasis lost under the sea. A map lighted the way, but a shadow marked it's end. The final moments were a rush of water before all went dark.
As the wisp moves down, the ground shakes. Ice falls from the ceiling and lands on the pipe, splintering its chamber. The wisp enters the object nevertheless.
The figure pauses for a moment and wonders if it will work the same now. But it doesn't have alternatives, so it carries on.
The figure takes out its final object. A gothic iron key, with a spiraled shaft and a little sawed-off bit at the tip. The figure places this last item on the ground and a wisp follows it.
The wisp recalls devotion. Rachel, a cleric that shown the light into the dark. A halfling that never shied away from a mystery. The final mystery. Where had her light gone? The dark ritual in which she was sacrificed by an insidious cult. No salvation as she burned so bright.
The wisp flows down into the key, becoming one with it.
The figure's job here is done, for now. So it disappears from this place, back to wherever it came from, and waits.
While it waits, a transformation begins with each of the items. A soft glow of light emanates from each item and envelopes it. Slowly, over the course of hours, maybe weeks, the light begins to take form. Around each item, the light takes the form of the individual whos item it was when they were living. The items come to rest in the center of the form of the individual that coalesced from the light. The individuals begin to awaken. Each naked and cold.
They begin to blink and look around. They are greeted with the view of the frozen lab. Ice covers most of the surfaces, and where it doesn't frost does. It is dark except for a faint trail of light coming in from the opening to the lab leading out to the cliff face.
Caravaggio is the first to begin moving. He makes his way over to the table opposite where the group stands and begins searching for any sign of his armor and gear. The table is empty and there are no other cupboards or nooks to be seen. He does spy one thing that seems out of place. Slumped against the floor are the frozen remains of a Gnome. The Gnome is clothed in furs for winter weather, though they don't seem to have helped him in the end. There is also a satchel with the Gnome. Caravaggio picks up the satchel and quickly rifles through its contents. Amongst them are a leather bound journal, some scrolls, a jar with some assorted items, and a rope. The rope feels warm to the touch, so Caravaggio takes a moment to wrap it around him.
That moment is quickly interrupted when, as Caravaggio turns back around to face the group, he is suddenly pinned to the wall behind him. With an arm pressed against him and a snout in his face, he found himself face to face with the Minotaur.
Grunting and snorting hot air in the face of the Bugbear, Tidal sized up his opponent. He didn't get long before a fist connected with his jaw. The Bugbear had taken a swing at him. Tidal grinned. This is the afterlife! he thought as he started to rage.
The remaining three individuals, Dido, Rachel, and Flewid, began to look at each other. Rachel took a few steps back from where Tidal and Caravaggio were grappling each other.
"Do....do you know why we're here" Rachel inquired softly, addressing Dido and Flewid.
The two just shrugged in response but kept their eyes on the scuffling barbarians.
"It would be easier to figure that out if this fracas would STOP!" interjected Dido as she glared towards Tidal and Caravaggio. They just ignored her as they continued to grapple each other. Dido continued to glare at them for a moment more before turning back to address Rachel and Flewid;
"I could try using my Divine Senses to see if I can detect anything." Dido offered.
Rachel nodded and Dido began to close her eyes and focus on the spell. Her mind drifted for a moment but she did not sense anything. Before she had a chance to inform the others, a loud crash filled the air. It was proceeded by a bright light that forced the others to shield their eyes.
Once the light had subsided, hovering before the group, between them and the only exit, was an entity. At it's core, was a glowing orb of light, bright as the sun. Not much else could be discerned as the orb was too bright to stair at for long. Surrounding it were 4 rings that each resembled the wheels of a chariot, each larger than the last, but none of them connected to anything. Each ring was lined with eyes, all of them constantly staring at the group, but none of them ever blinking. Each wheel orbited the glowing sphere at the core, each with it's own trajectory, always avoiding each other.
Each individual present in the cavern heard a monotone voice in their head at the same time.
Be not afraid.
There was a pause.
We are part of The Choir. We have diverted your souls to assemble you here to undertake a quest to restore the celestial order and prevent any further damage to our pantheon. To that end, we have fashioned you vassals to carry out this task.
The group now looked at each other. Dido was the first to speak;
"What is this about restoring the celestial order? And what do you mean you have fashioned us vassals?"
What you consider to be your bodies at present, are merely artificial facsimiles of your bodies from your previous lives given shape by your soul which now inhabits it. This process is costly and time consuming. You would do well to treat them as if they were flesh and blood. To that end, they do require some maintenance. You will still need to eat and drink, though only a fraction of what you would have if you were alive.
There was a pause before the being continued.
We will also imbue you with a small portion of The Choir's power.
A wave of warm light emanated from the core of the being and washed over each member of the group. Where they had been stark naked only moments before, clothes now formed. Then armor and weapons and various pieces of equipment.
You will now find yourselves equipped exactly as you had been at the time of your death. However, you will not have any currency that you may have had.
The party each checked themselves over. As they had been told, their clothes and armor and gear were all present.
"Why us?" asks Flewid scratching his head.
Your souls are the ones we were able to intercept and bring to Baator.
Dido looked back at the entity.
"And what of this celestial order?" quipped Dido.
As you should be aware, many gods in the pantheon of gods have been killed in what your mortal selves might have known as The Shattering. This series of events were devised and implemented 10 years ago by Fraz-Urb'luu and his agents of darkness. Amongst them his Avatar known as Taz'rash and another known only as The Harbinger. Before this event, the presence of the gods and their powers was the stabilizing element to all plains of existence. Now, with most of their number vanquished and several others unaccounted for, there is a power vacuum that sees the likes of demon kind vying to fill it. Your task shall be to travel through the realms of Baator to the Abyss where Fraz-Urb'luu is planning to carry out his final act, discover what that act is and prevent it from coming to pass. As compensation for undertaking this perilous quest, each of you will be resurrected to your mortal forms.
"Will you or this 'Choir' offer us any aid in such an important quest?" inquired Flewid.
We have acquired an asset for your quest at great cost. You will travel from Cania - this layer of Baator we are present in - to the next layer known as Maladomini. There you will seek out the river Styx and find a Merrenoloth named Syllucraff. It's services have been paid in full and it will sail you along the river to your destination.
We have also another gift to aid you on this quest.
Another wave of light emanates from the being, this time a warmly blue color which washes over each person present. From inside each of them, their trinket which the wisps had entered seems to float out of them and comes to a rest in their hands. Imbedded on each trinket, a gem takes form.
We have blessed you with a soul charm. This will grant you a small measure of our power to help you on your quest.
Each party member examines their trinket, remembering it's importance to their previous lives.
From here, you must depart. Since all of Cania is buried beneath ice, you will need to find one of the cracks between this layer and the next. The Styx is frozen here and inaccessible. Make your way to the base of Gelunith, the great mountain to the north. You should find a crack at it's base. But be warned, the mountain is home to a settlement of demons and is likely to be patrolled.
There is a momentary pause.
Time is of the essence. As each day passes, chaos spreads across Astoria. You must complete this task as quickly as possible.
Dido wonders to herself about the fate of her god Shevarash. She then hears the being in her thoughts.
Missions begun in life can be continued again.
Dido's jaw clenches as she feels a renewed determination within her.
At the same time, Rachel finds herself reflecting on her quest to find out about Saloon. She then hears the voice in her head.
Searches cut short can be continued.
A moment after that, the being disappears in a flash of blinding light and the lab grows dark and cold once more. The winds beyond can be heard with the sounds of anguish.
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