The Promise.

Part 1
The Promise

Obcaeco broke the rich burgundy wax seal upon the letter. The messenger that delivered it was already gone, stepping through a dimensional door mere feet from her.

Despite her amazing visual acuity, she didn't recognise this particular shade. As she held the fine parchment unfolded in her hand, her other hand went reflexively to her swelling belly. She had barely started to show. Her pregnancy, now three months through had been a bittersweet time.

Correspondence from her beloved was few and far between. Each letter did bring more hope about a possible chance for her Virgil to return.

She cast her eyes upon the beautiful handwriting.

Obcaeco. 

I hope this letter finds you and the children well. 
I believe I have found a way to return to the material plane. Not permanently, I'm afraid, but potentially for a half a calendar year. 

As my power grows and I intend to use it to maintain the balance. A balance that my bindings can be logically bent to. A 'loop hole' of sorts.

Molly believes that she has found a solution and I have enacted the process she has laid out. 
I will do all I can to protect our children as I protect the people of the realm. They will have the growing protection of Neifion. 

Although I am changed, perhaps for the worse, I still cling onto the memories and experiences we shared. 

I will hopefully see you soon. But not likely before the birth of the children. 

I have dispatched a letter to my mother and father explaining the situation as best as could be done. 
Expect correspondence and support from them.

Know that I will watch over you as much as I can. 


Virgil. 

Obcaeco's heart ached as she finished reading, then almost on queue, she was filled with a warmth that came from her belly and extended out to her extremities.

Love. It was pure love.

She smiled and whispered.
"My loves. Your father is coming. You will know him."



----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 2
The Solution.

The spectral forge-master worked tirelessly at the Netherese device known as The Soul Forge.

A large green emerald lay upon the forge and with each strike of the spectral hammer, energy from captured spirits was driven into it.

Neifion watched on as the swirling spirits amassed above the forge were drawn into the gem. With each strike and each new infusion made the gem grow almost imperceptibly in size.

This gem, Neifion had learned was called The Verdant Prison. It was the tangible source of his power. And Molly had found a way to utilise the Soul Forge to enhance Neifion's presence.

A deities power was normally grown through belief and worship, she had found a third way.
Combined with Neifion's efforts to expand his forces, from seven shades to seven lieutenants, each one with a charge of three apprentices. A new mandate to openly challenge those who would strive to tilt the balance of power in their favour had also increased his popularity with the masses. Those oppressed by corrupt nobles now prayed for intervention directly to Neifion.

As were the rules, belief converts directly to power.

The growing of The Verdant Prison would, in theory, allow him to exist upon the mortal plane in a weakened state for a longer duration. Almost like a remote power source while he wasn't directly connected to his Fay realm.

There was danger to attempting this. He would be mortal. He would be somewhat vulnerable, although he would still have the majority of his power at his fingertips.

It was all a risk he was prepared to take to see his family again. To be a part of their lives.
The souls that were used to fuel this process once belonged to those that were simply dubbed "The Inharmonious".

Their souls were brought here and confined to the The Verdant Prison. Their greed and chaos would fuel the power to balance the realms.

Neifion watched on, his eyes of green flame burning brighter with every spectral hammer blow.

Four Days

Lirra and Tris walked along the wide streets of Waterdeep frantically discussing the events of the play they had just encountered.

Behind them, Obcaeco walked with Virgil, her arm intertwined with his as she watched the spectacle play out. Back and forth their analysis went. Their voices  both raised as both interjected parts of the story into their discussion resulting in an array of reactions from head scratching to sheer unbridled laughter that caused passers by to stare at the well-dressed yet formidable looking siblings.

Virgil stopped walking suddenly, staring forward as the Kall children continued along the road, unaware their companions were no longer following. Obcaeco studied him, her beautiful golden eyes, now unveiled and full of compassion, gazing at the man she loved. The crowd moved around them effortlessly, like the current of a river divided by a sandbank.

"I can feel myself slipping away," Virgil stated, not looking at the woman at his side. "Everything that makes me who I am is a memory now and now I am an actor, playing the role of Virgil Crane."

Obcaeco swallowed hard at this, realising that she may have already lost the man she loved, even though he stood here, now in this place. 

Virgil sensed her sadness and turned to face her. 

"I still remember what it is to love you. I can still recall the power of it. It is not yet gone. But -"

Obcaeco silenced him with a kiss, a passionate kiss full sadness and defiance.

Of things soon to be lost. 

"Let's get out of here," she whispered as their passion broke, passers by couldn't help but witness the two and their act of love. Virgil heard the urgency in her voice, the whispered demand and promise of what was to come. 

He nodded and opened a silvery portal below their feet, disappearing through it in an instant surrounded by the gasps of passers by. 

They fell for only a moment before the all too familiar green hue of the eldritch lamps within Virgil's sanctum came into view and they were in that familiar place where both of them had spent so much time in each others arms.

"Four Days, Virgil Crane." She declared as garments were discarded. 

"You are mine for four days."

Starfinder Story. Part 1

The last few days of travel had been significantly harder to bare. Catch’s eyes wandered several times a
day to the massive nebula that just decided to appear a few nights back.
Thanks, you fucker. He thought to himself, attributing the way he was feeling now to the magical light show above the planet.

The fight with the dog-like creatures on the planet only confirmed that he wasn’t at one hundred percent.
His reflexes felt sluggish, it was becoming harder to focus on tasks and actually just focus his vision.
His arms and legs were aching, like when he had the flu. But he knew this was no flu.

He was relieved when the fuel signature they’d discovered turned out to be some kind of facility.
As soon as they’d entered the structure and their tech had been effected, he’d quietly hoped that this
place would shield them from shit going on outside.

His realism buried that hope with the rest of its friends and he got back to work.

He followed Devon in, sweeping the place and clearing it as he’d been trained to do years before. He
didn’t care at this point that he was dropping his disguise of the bumbling bureaucrat.
There was no time to keep up appearances. He was sick, possibly dying.

“You look like shit, Catch. Sit down.” Came Aaron’s voice through his helmet amplifier.

Catch went to a knee and gently let himself drop to his butt, putting his back against one of the bulkheads as Enoch and Kit began scouring the systems. Seph chimed in here and there as the three brainiacs did their thing.  Aaron produced a flashlight and shone it in and out, one after the other.

“Pupils are sluggish and you look off colour.” He said in an amplified tone. “You sore? Aching? Hows your grip strength? Headaches?”

“Yeah, Yeah, sluggish and yeah.”

“You’ve got acute radiation poisoning.” Devon said matter of factly after a brief pause. “Rest. I’ll get back to you soon.”


Catch stayed seated and watched the soldier turn and walk towards the eccentric Enoch and begin subjecting him to the same tests. He closed his eyes, feeling the frustration well up inside him. This weakness could be the end of him. He banged his head backwards, intentionally knocking it.  

Absalom Station wasn’t looking so bad right now.

Allies. Lost and Found

As cunning and clever as Virgil thought he was, he knew he couldn’t match wits with the High Administrator. Caught in her snare like an insect caught in the web of a hungry spider his mind moved quickly to formulate an answer that would suffice.

“Brightcandle Virgil Crane,” interjected Henry. Virgil kept his face still at this latest revelation.
“returned to investigate the various Cult activity within the holds of Waterdeep. As a delicate mission of secrecy, he was not allowed to talk about it or contact any superiors in Waterdeep due to the nature of the mission. However, now that the Cults activities are now coming to an end, you will have a full report of your desk by morning High Administrator.”

Anveena’s eyes shifted sideways, her head barely turning to acknowledge the scribe as her gaze went between the two of them.

“Very well, Head Scribe Riverwood,” She conceded, after a pause. “No later than 9th bell.” She rose suddenly from her elevated position, gathering her ledger and gracefully exiting via the double doors to the rear or the room. Her personal guard flanking her exit.

The others all mingled an moment, agreeing to return to The Hoard to discuss their options on where their efforts would be focused next. Virgil lingered back, moving over to Henry’s desk as he busilly scooped up the various recounts of the meeting. As he opened his mouth to speak, Henry shot him a look that stole his voice.

“Come,” Henry said in a cool tone. “I need to speak to you before the night is through.” His smile feigned as the weight behind his words weren’t lost on Virgil.

“Of course,” Virgil agreed, and beamed his most charming smile. “Would you mind if we spoke at the Hoard?” Henry gave a resigned nod to Virgil and he returned the nod, before he spun and exited through the council chamber door.

Virgil kept his calm, walking from the palace back to the hoard without displaying any of the agitation that he felt when it came to dealing with that woman. His exploits as Neifion over the past months had earned him the ire of the City Watch, The City Guard and The Magisters.
Now, it seems, the Masked Lords themselves have their suspicions.

The eighth bells chimed as Henry approached the Dragon’s Hoard. Light poured out from behind the green and gold stained glass windows to paint the cobblestones while music and disjointed conversation imbued the ambience with feelings of comfort and laughter for the passers by.

In front of him stood two very uniquely striking figures. The beautiful crimson skinned Tiefling named Valaya, stood smiling as patrons came and went, flanking the door was her counterpart, a tall muscular blue skinned Genasi. The man known as Tide. Both wore outfits that accentuated their charm and beauty. Valaya’s velvet dress, while giving her room to move, hugged her as the wind blew, outlining her legs in perfect profile. It then split into two seperate pieces of velvet, wrapping her waist and chest in a conservatively cut neck and short sleeves, tied and hanging loosely in down her back. Her thick mane of black hair hung loosely about her shoulders, framing her face.

Tide wore a vest over a tight dark blue shirt, rolled up to show off his toned muscular physique. His cerulean skin caught the light from within making it almost glow as blue as the clearest noon sky. His hair was combed to a side, with half his hair shaved short and motifs of waves shaven in it down to the scalp.

Both of these individuals bore welcoming grins and beckoning hands motioned patrons to enter or bid farewell to valued guests. When Henry approached, both gave a short bow in unison, as if rehearsed.
He stepped past them, a little flushed at the public display of respect. He was more accustomed to being unnoticed, he preferred the anonymity that comes with looking like someone that people wouldn’t engage with. Yet here, at The Hoard, his kindness and reputation preceded him.

The crowd bustled this way and that, moving to tables while laughing and drinking. Within the centre of this standing in front of the bar stood Lillian Creswell. Like an island amid a turbulent stream. Unmoving against the torrent of activity that swelled around her. .
Her gaze locked with his and he moved to her, almost unwillingly, her mere presence alone drawing him in.

“Master Crane waits for you you upstairs,” she said in her dry commanding tone whilst an elegant hand came up to point to the spiral staircase at the end of the common room. His eyes shot up to the balcony and there, leaning against the balustrade stood Virgil. His face had that charismatic smile that he always wore and he had three, no, four people laughing and admiring him.

Virgil casually looked down, beaming that big smile and motioned Henry to join him. Henry looked back down and Lillian was already back behind the bar, serving drinks whilst conversing with a member of the gentry.

A song finished at the opposite end of the hall as claps and cheers went up, praising the two musicians that sat on armless seats, lutes in hand.

Another tune began, and only a few bars in, an applause of recognition ignited amongst the crowd. A song he’d only heard about through word of mouth. A Hope in The Night. It was a haunting song about Neifion, portraying him as a protector of the people. A scourge against evil.
Henry had to admit that he was quite impressed with the level of infamy Virgil had garnered during his exploits as the Vigilante known as Neifion.

He climbed the final stairs as Virgil was handshaking his patrons vigorously, patting them on the back and sending them back down stairs. Henry noticed the women’s flushed expressions and their quiet giggles of admiration. Or was it amouration? Virgil oozed a charisma that was almost palpable. He’d watched the man defuse situations with gentle words and assurances. He’d seen that same silver tongue turn to a smoldering brand that inspires fear just as easily.

“Henry! Thank you for coming on such short notice!” he exclaimed with enough of a staged presence that made others mingling look around to take notice. Virgil extended a hand and Henry obliged, shaking it as Virgil clapped him firmly on the shoulder.

“It is good to see The Hoard doing so well,” Henry said awkwardly, trying to keep the conversation feeling natural, but failing somewhat. Virgil picked up his verbal stumblings, putting a guiding arm about his shoulder and leading him to a nearby room.
Virgil’s hands flickered as he mumbled an arcane verse and the air beside the two shimmered. Henry blinked, realising he was behind some form of illusion and turned back to Virgil who was hastily inscribing an intricate sigil upon the closed door before him. Henry recognised the sigil as one he’d seen him use before and watched as the door opened to a long hall, longer than should be possible.

“Let us talk away from prying eyes and eager ears.” Virgil said, motioning Henry to enter.

Henry walked into the warm hall, immediately smelling cinnamon and cedarwood. “Can I take your coat? Would you like a drink?” He offered as they walked past the coat stand then further down the hall where firelight flickered from an adjoining room.
Henry hung his own coat up on an empty hook next to an all too familiar black, wide-brimmed hat and velvet lined lengthened coat.

In the next room sat a plate with three different cheeses, some bread and apples, sausages and finally a small keg and two wine glasses.

Although Henry hadn’t felt hungry intitalliy, the sight of the food made his stomach growl and he realised he hadn’t eaten since the morning.
Virgil seemed to notice the change in Henry’s expression and gestured for him to sit, which he did and cut himself a generous slice of cheese and bread.

Virgil sat opposite him, also making a plate of food and began cutting it up into smaller portions.
“I think it’s best you start this conversation, Henry.” Virgil stated after he’d poured a glass of wine and offered it to the scribe. Henry declined the glass, at which Virgil merely gave him a small salute, clinked both glasses together himself and took a swallow of the crimson fluid.

Henry nodded, finishing off the cheese and sausage in his mouth before dabbing his lips with a serviette.

“Firstly. Your exploits over the last few months have been somewhat documented. Pieced together by myself from City Watch reports that had been filed about your actions. The uneasy alliance you’ve made with Rorden Fasille has been noted but not recorded in any official capacity.”

Virgil kept his visage the same, but was relieved to hear that Cesil Fasille had not been associated with him. Fasille had not offered him any form of amnesty or immunity from the laws of Waterdeep but if Neifion uncovered any information out about internal corruption within the watch or government, he was to bring it to Fasille to deal with and not take the law into his own hands.
Virgil trusted Fasille, barely. He returned his gaze to Henry.

“Go on.” He said to the scribe, taking another swallow of wine.

“However, I must ask for some specifics to fill in certain details. Obviously I cannot give the story of Neifion in this report, so I will need to fabricate certain information for the High Administrator. Understand I take no pride in this, but for the integrity of the Council and of the Initiative, it must be done.”

Virgil nodded, knowing what Henry was putting at risk for simply even considering the idea of lying to Anveena.

Over the next hour they filled in the details and made the story believable, wrapping the lie within a truth, so that it would hold against any inspection.

“Second. I must congratulate you on your intervention against the cults of Zariel and The Dragon within Waterdeep Proper. Your actions thwarted the bolstering of the Cult of The Dragon and weakened their hold even further within our city, affording us some more breathing room while The Initiative take the fight to them out in the field.”

Virgil paused, wondering if he’d finished his statement. It seemed if Henry was waiting for some form of acknowledgement of his exploits. Virgil withheld any such self adulation, knowing the fame he once sought had earned him more attention than he was ready to handle.

“Anything else?” He asked.

“Lastly,” Henry continued. “I must formally request that you return your Harper’s pin and inform you that you are no longer considered to be an affiliate of The Harpers. This will also be detailed in the report.”
This last part did sting Virgil. Henry went on. “The harpers do not carry out the kind of justice you seem intent on meting out.”

Virgil took the pin fastened under his lapel, looked at it a brief moment before placing it on the table and slid it across the table in an easy motion. It stopped a mere inch from the table edge.

“Know this, Virgil.” He added taking his spectacles from his tiny eyes and wearily rubbing them. “The work you do here is in the best interests of The Sword Coast, The Harpers, The Lord’s Alliance and all the free folk. It is for this reason I will continue to support you and your exploits within Waterdeep.”

Virgil opened his mouth to say something that resembled a thank you but was cut off as Henry suddenly pointed a finger at him his eyes snapping open to glare.

“You must improve the way you conduct your operations. You were but one exploit away from having The High Administrator bring down the full force of The Magistars upon you.”

Virgil conceded this point, reflecting upon the questioning he’d faced earlier that day regarding his whereabouts over the last month.

“If she had just asked you if you killed Varram, then this wouldn’t have been…”

“She thinks I killed Varram?” Virgil said, surprised..

“Of course, you were gone for a month without word. You returned to Waterdeep just after rescuing him and turning him into the Palace. Anveena made a compelling argument against you, that’s why I’m doing what I can to keep her sights off of you.” Henry said. “You’re powerful, and an integral part of bringing down the Cult. If you didn’t have this bloody secret, this could’ve been avoided…” Henry sighed, knowing there was nothing more he could do to aid the matter. “This is your best hope Virgil,” Henry said gesturing to the report. “And if this doesn’t get her sights off of you. It’ll be both me and you that meet the wrath of the Masked Lords.”

Henry shuddered at the thought. He’d seen the full power that the Magistars wrought. What they could do. He hoped Virgil took it as seriously as he did.

“There is something dark still afoot within Waterdeep. Something is terribly wrong here. Our protective measures aren’t enough these days.”

“Tell me about the murder.” Virgil asked. “How were the bodies found? What was used to kill these men? How were they killed? Any signs of struggle?”

“What?” Henry said in bewilderment. “Why? You know I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

“You’re putting yourself in danger by forging paperwork Henry.” Virgil stated matter-of-factly. “If you're walking on thin ice, you might as well dance.”

“Well, if I share this information with you and Anveena asks you about the death of Varram, and what you know about it while you’re in a Field of Truth again. I might not be able to protect you, and that makes this report—”

“Look illegitimate.” Virgil said, cutting of Henry, in realisation. “That puts us in danger again. But even if she does ask, I can feign ignorance along with everyone else. Her field of truth doesn’t work if I don’t speak.”

“That’s correct, Virgil.” Henry let out a weary sigh, running his hand through his thick and graying hair, frazzling it. “Ok. Here’s the information. The guards replacing the shift found the two guards and Varram. Upon examination, the guards appeared to be stabbed in the back. The wounds were deep and precise. There was no sign of struggle, but that, counter-intuitively, leads me to believe someone got past them and stabbed them unawares. That’s why Anveena questioned everyone coming in and out of the building. Varram’s cell was opened, with the guards keys most likely. Once in, the assassin sliced Varram’s jugular and he died soon after. In all cases only one slice was needed, and all the wounds fit the profile of a generic dagger.” Henry slammed his hand on the table, obviously letting out some much contained anger. He clenched his hands into fists. “To think that all of this happened under all of our noses!” He exclaimed, slightly raising his voice. “First Omarion gets past my guards to Kerri, then Langdedrosa escapes the Bracers, then a high security prisoner is killed right under the nose of the Lords’ Palace! It’s like some sick joke! Why do you think I implored them to double the guard. Obviously what we had was not enough.”

Virgil studied the flustered scribe closely. Henry was a true patriot. A believer in the people and what this place stood for. He was willing to go all in on this venture. To help him, help Neifion with his activities within Waterdeep’s walls. He gave him a moment to calm and stood, fetching his journal from the nearby bench and placed it before him.

“I need you to bring your attention back to the events reported in the tomb located under The Serpent Hills.” Virgil stated as his journal flew open and the pages began turning rapidly. Stopping to rest on a page of text.

Henry thought a moment and nodded. “Yes, I recall those reports. What is it you’ve discovered?”

******

Virgil brings up the five rooms corresponding with the five colours of the Cult of The Dragon.
He shows Henry the parallels between what they’ve already experienced. Including the attempted assault of the Yuan Ti in the swamps, Langdragosa’s sudden appearance to help us remove Rezmir from the scenario. Virgil believes that  what they saw within the Yuan Ti chambers is a sign of things past, and things to come. The Five Headed Abomination they faced within the Tomb is a clear representation of what could come to pass if Tiamat is allowed to be brought to our plane. He points out that Stedd noted the snakes seem to be maneuvering to usurp the Cult of The Dragon. Their representatives moving into position.

The fact that the Blue Wyrm Speaker could also be a Yuan Ti is very alarming. It could prove their infiltration.

Virgil also believes that The Yuan Ti are attempting to take over the ritual. In order to summon something akin to Tiamat but in the image of The Cult of The Undead Dragon.
He asks Henry to look into any lore or stories that would fit the bill of a five headed entity that mirrored Tiamat.

Under her Spell.

Neifion stepped through a glyph marked door, closing it behind him without even a glance in its direction as he strode toward the room down the hall of his compound.  He placed the book upon a stand in the hall then with each step Neifion allowed the persona to shed becoming Virgil once more. Gone was the dark tailored vest and shirt, the mask, hat and flowing cape only a simple white shirt under a red velvet vest and worn trousers.
He stopped at the mirror at the end of the hall confirming it was him in the reflection and not The Lord of Bats. A young man stared back. Older around the eyes that he remembered, grim faced and tired. He forced a wry smile to his lips and suddenly he recalled this young man.
This mask was a pleasant one. He would keep this one on. 

His fingers worked reflexively as they untied the plaited leather binding around his right thigh, before unbuckling his holster belt and gently wrapping the etched leather about it's contents and placing it on the edge of the table and poured most of wine from a nearby decanter into a rough wooden mug before taking a steadying breath and downing the entire contents tipping his head right back to drain the last drop. Closing his eyes as he drank it down.

Imagery of battle, torture and death flashed behind his eyelids, replaying the events of the last few months culminating into a final scene of execution.

Those images began to fade as the warmth and forgiveness of the alcohol began to embrace him.

Light filled his mind and that light then took shape. It formed the curve of a hip, the softest of skin, the most inviting of lips.

He allowed himself a brief moment and a smile. Before he felt the tingling warning of The Geas. It threatened him to stop this thinking. To stop feeling for her.

"Oh come now," mused Cynthia, breaking his moment. "It wasn't all that bad! You're the hero of Waterdeep! Everyone's talking about Neifion." He could hear her footfalls approaching and still he kept his eyes closed.
"Wanted by The Law. Feared by The Lawless."

He opened his eyes to see the red haired woman standing but inches from him eyes level with his.
"You've done it." She said with a tone of congratulatory satisfaction.
It took every ounce of will to not just lunge his head forward and drive his head into her nose. A notion Cynthia seemed to pick up on as she suddenly appeared seated at the table, smoking her trademark cinnamon cigarillo.

"Your work over the last few ten-day have bought a semblance of balance back to Waterdeep. Crime is down back in Undermountain. Corruptions have been rooted out and dealt with. The Cult of The Dragon lost an ally they didn't even know they had." She explained, counting the points off on fingers with shimmering pearl fingernails. "And, you also made some new friends. That watchman and his merry bunch of misfits seem nice!"

"They tried to arrest me at every turn."

"Nicely." She added with her charming smile. Pausing to draw in the smoke and exhale lt slowly. "I've heard whispers that your friends are on their way back to Waterdeep. You should join them at The Hoard."

Virgil's head cocked slightly to the side
"This isn't a joke, Cynthia." He growled.

"And I'm not joking," cutting him off. She waved a hand before her, leaving a streak of arcane energy that lingered in the air for a moment. He felt the mental restraint of the geas lifted from him like the weight of worlds suddenly gone. She leaned forward at the table pointing a finger at him.
"Don't force me to go this far again," she said coldly. "No one else could have achieved what you have done here. No one else! You need to understand your role in protecting Waterdeep goes beyond that of your companions."

She was right. He knew it now. Virgil would never forgive her for forcing him like this. Yet Neifion would forever be in her gratitude.

She again appeared before him. A soft finger running down his lips, chin and neck before placing her hand over his heart. She kissed him and he did not resist for he could not. As their mouths locked he felt a jolting surge of power enter his body. Cynthia wrapped a hand around his neck, grabbing his hair roughly. The other around his waist holding him to her. He felt as if he were about to break apart as his entire body contorted and jolted. He could see nothing but a searing emerald light. Then he was on the floor alone and gasping for breath. Power flowed through him. His body and mind renewed.

"Your mind is free once more, Virgil
I lend you more of my power as is your reward and right." The voice now an echo in his mind.  "You are free to pursue The Cult of The Dragon outside of Waterdeep once more. But listen for my call."

He would always listen. He understood his need. His worth.

He would always listen.

The Watch

Patrols had been doubled since the attack by the Cult of The Dragon that had been thwarted by a band of heroes. Despite the severity of the attack, no additional backlash had been seen upon the streets, yet the Masked Lords had decreed that defences be intensified until further notice.

Swordcaptain Fasille led his unit of the City Watch along the routes within his section of Waterdeep. It had been a relatively dull night in the City of Splendours. A few checks on passers by, inquiries as to their business at this hour. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He heard a yawn coming from his unit, the night had been long and quite forgettable in terms of excitement. Aside from their uniforms, they were indeed a motley looking bunch. Fasille himself was a stocky man with a neatly cropped short hair and a well groomed beard. Behind him standing nearly a clear head taller were two women, twins it seemed as their features, right down to their braids and the grim visage they wore upon their faces were near identical. 

Next, a leathery winged, red skinned figure skulked along with them, His white mane of hair divided with two spiralling obsidian like horns that symmetrically flowed down the back of his head. Aside him, walked a robed figure, cowl covering her face, a gleaming elegant blade sheathed across her back.

"Keep your eyes open," Fasille said, voice stern. "Our shift is almost done. Give it your best."

Finally, trudged a young man with blonde hair, a pony tail clasped in silver. An immaculately pressed uniform adorned his handsome frame, accentuating his features. Crossed over his tunic hung a horn, simple in design.
His eyes rolled as an audible sigh dramatically escaped his mouth at Captain Fasille's words. He'd heard him say the same thing on dozens of occasions.

"All I know is that I've two more shifts of this and I'm, - " 
His words cut short as two bolts of emerald energy sizzled into the air, capturing the attention of the entire group with their blazing green light.

"Warehouse district," Fasille called out as he turned to his group. "Sobek, Silver, scout and return!" 

The tiefling nodded, his wings unfurling with a sudden gust he sprang into the air as Felinar Silverfeld's hands weaved an intricate pattern with a feather held between her thumb and forefinger. It left visible lines of raw magic and  coupled with arcane syllables the spell took hold and she followed the tiefling into the night sky, both speeding off towards the green beam's origin.

"Learis, Treja, double time. Wrinfeld sound 'Alarm' and 'Pursuit!'" Fasille turned and ran down the road towards the bridge, the twins right behind him. Wrinfeld sighed once more. 

"I had to open my big mouth," he said before blasting three distinct rhythms alerting other watch of their intentions. In reply, other horns in the distance sounded their acknowledgement and their plan to reinforce.


Sobek and Silver landed alongside the rest as they neared the street where the beams had originated from.
"Knocked out thugs, piled on top of one another. Two patrols closing, less than two minutes out." Sobek reported without queue, Silver nodded to Fasille in agreement at the assessment.
"A green hue taints the lamps." Silver added as Fasille looked forward to see the emerald glow.

Fasille nodded at the information. "Shields and truncheons. Cordon and contain." He took point, the twins flanking him. Ahead six bodies were slumped atop one another, bleeding and battered, but breathing.  Floating above them was an illusion. A glowing green flame surrounded by fluttering bats. 

"Silver?" Fasille said with a familiar tone, prompting her to turn and assess the illusion. Fingers moving quickly, eyes closed.

"It's a calling card," she said still concentrating. "A name. Neifion?" She ended the spell.
"Scoring in several places indicate unstable energies used in this scuffle," pointing to the burn marks on the unconscious bodies. She then noticed the another mark upon the bodies. Roughly, pulling the topmost thug from the pile. A tattoo. A small triangle flanked by two elongated ones.
 "Sobek, look!" said Silver with a tone of alarm.

He glanced over his shoulder, seeing the mark, before turning to the next thug and roughly dragged him down, rolling up the sleeve of his left arm."
Fasille noticed the reaction of his two most seasoned and experienced guards. "What is it? What does that mark mean?" He asked, before returning his eyes to scanning the environment.

"Asmodeus." Sobek stated grimly. "They bare the mark of The Lord of The Nine Hells."

What Happens in Waterdeep.

Cynthia watched the two young lovers asleep in each others arms. Admittedly, she had watched them for a good portion of the night and although her initial intentions weren't voyeuristic, that quickly shifted once she had attempted to reach out to Virgil and discovered what was transpiring. Cynthia needed to contact Virgil, it was important, but it could wait.

For what she was about to ask. It could wait.

The sly demigod impressed her influence upon him and his eyes snapped open.
"Morning, Handsome. Get some clothes on and let that poor girl recover." she mused as she lit a cigarillo while walking from the room and up the hall. "We need to talk." She loudly called back.

The smells of tobacco and cinnamon assailed him as he shot a glance back to the sleeping woman next to him.
Virgil had seen her awaken from less interruption than this and just assumed this too was Cynthia's work. Especially seeing that Stedd hadn't come bounding out of bed at the first sign of a strangers voice.

He swung his feet out of the covers and stood. throwing a loose shirt on and some breeches, clumsily splashing some water in his face from the wash basin nearby before heading down the hall.

Cynthia sat feet up on the table, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, cigarillo in the other. Virgil took up a place opposite and poured himself a cup.

"What's going on?" Virgil asked, taking a sip of the hot liquid. It's bitter taste having the desired effect as he felt his senses sharpen.

"That cult you stirred up before you left," she began taking her feet off the table and leaning in. "Good job on that by the way." She complimented with an exhale of smoke, it's fragrance filling the room. Virgil nodded and let her continue.

"There has been a development on that front. Through your initial contact and my own investigation, I've determined that a few new powers are on the rise along the sword Coast. You need to come back with me to sort this uprising out and restore balance to Waterdeep's criminal and lawful element."

Virgil went to argue, his mouth opening but she raised a hand that literally stopped him from speaking.

"It's part of the gig, Virgil. You return to Waterdeep, solve this issue so that the others have a Waterdeep to return to."
She sat back, lowering her hand and taking a drink of her coffee. He felt his ability to speak return.

He felt the unease at this decision, felt the conflict within him. He also realised his opinion on this matter was moot.

"I'll leave a note." He said as Cynthia raised her hand again, this time it held a sealed envelope.

"Already done," she said flatly. "A lovely little note from myself explaining your requirement to return with me to Waterdeep so you may conduct your duties. Don't worry I'll get you back to them as soon as you're done." She confirmed in a sincere tone, slipping the sealed letter over the table. "Leave that with your dwarf companion, it'll have the desired effect should he happen upon it."

Virgil nodded, reluctantly taking the letter and moving back down the hall to the barracks he'd been provided for his companions.
All were present, save Mikarro who had taken a great interest in the workings of the ship they were all travelling on.

He left the letter standing on Ulfgar's belongings before heading back to his own quarters.

Obcaeco still slept soundly. He gathered his belongings and walked from his room, letting his eyes gaze upon her for a moment before moving back to the hall.

Cynthia stood at the end of the hall by the Red Door.

"You ready?" She asked, that wry smile still on her face."
Virgil nodded and she pressed her palm upon its ornate surface. Various locks and mechanisms could be heard responding to her touch. It swung open slowly revealing a long hall lit by sconces.

"Ladies first," Cynthia said, gesturing for Virgil to enter.

Shaking his head with a sigh, he crossed over the threshold leaving his companions behind.