85. The Iron City

* Aerendyl, Clwyd, Pyt, and Wilfred have successfully climbed their way up from the Fifth Hell to the Fourth: Dis, the Iron City. To do so, they signed a contract with the Hell hag Red Rona which demands of them at least one eye from the vampire Zadimus, who is being tortured 'for a period of nine lifetimes' in the subterranean prisons of the Capo Bagrellan's estates in Dis for his crime of attempting to steal from Asmodeus's Vault of Souls. Should they leave Dis without having honoured this arrangement, one of the four of them will be held liable for either both their own eyes or one eye and one hand.
	+ Having walked through a mysterious gateway in Mephistar, the four members of the party find themselves standing on the cracked black stone cobbles of a busy street, huge iron buildings rising all around them and the twisting spire of Dispater looming about it all in the distance.
	+ The street is busy and hellishly cosmopolitan: they're jostled by a trio of hobgoblins holding hell hounds on thick chains, a bone devil's scorpion tail lashes out at a group of lemures its shepherding along, gorgeous succubi and incubi call solicitation from windows and doorways, a group of tieflings carrying armfuls of scrolls and books rush down the road, to name but a few of the sights around them.
	+ Seemingly every rooftop and high eave is occupied by imps clad head-to-toe in black iron plate armour. Their faces are covered with metal masks that are featureless save for two small eye holes that they peer out of, all of them watching the happenings at street level constantly, together representing a meticulous web of surveillance. In one hand they each hold a long parchment scroll and with raven's feather quills in the other, they scribble down accounts of everything they see. Dispater intends to know all.
* The group need to rest badly and decide that finding somewhere suitable to do that in Dis should be their first priority.
	+ Pyt looks around the street and sees a number of fiendish touts trying to get the attention of passers-by, keen to offer their services to the many mortals making their way here. The bard looks for the schlubbiest, most mangy of the lot and spots a particularly tragic looking bearded devil. The thing is wrapped in a mucky cloak, its titular chin tentacles are matted and scraggly, and its eyes are yellowed and sunken. Pyt approaches eagerly.
	+ The bearded devil gives his name as Thragg and offers to serve as a tour guide before Pyt even tells him what he wants. Thragg's usual price is 1 soul, most often given in coin form, in exchange for 1 week of his services. However, looking over the party and seeing they are the 'killing sort,' he offers them his services in exchange for them signing a contract in which they agree to kill his boss, a barbed devil called Prickly Princeps.
	+ The party go back and forth a little bit, get jostled by the crowd as they negotiate in the middle of the street with the mangy devil, and ultimately decline. The majority of them are very reluctant to start making more deals when they haven't even finished with their obligations to Red Rona yet.
	+ They swim through the crowd to a quiet side of the street, argue for a little bit (Wilfred and Clwyd in particular are very tired and feeling vulnerable because of it; it causes some friction), and then ultimately agree -- out loud -- that they need to find a place mortals can stay where they can pay in coin or gems. The agreement in their course activates that latent genie-powered wish in Clwyd that makes her the party's guide in the Hells and suddenly she knows the way to such a place.
	+ They cut across busy streets and narrow iron alleyways, seeing yet more strange creatures making their way through Dis's inner circle: an entourage of Terca Oscura residents -- dark elves, grey dwarves, and deep gnomes all -- walk with purpose down a street; a veritable gaggle of small wererats move like a tide from building front to building front, eagerly checking through the windows and doorways; five hunchbacked, tumorous giant-kin tower over most of the crowd and lumber their way through, manhandling folk as necessary -- Aerendyl identifies them as formorians, denizens of the Underfey. Winged spined devils swoop above the crowds, shouting down their services as guides, valets, spies, and assassins to a largely uninterested crowd.
	+ Eventually they come to 'Piss Alley,' a broad street with lantern light glowing before a million otherwise unmarked storefronts, with a crowd as tightly packed as a concert. The presence of actual fiends is less pronounced here than in the other streets, suggesting to Clwyd that it is some sort of hellish tourist trap.
	+ The guide sense in Clwyd's head leads the group to a massive Sultan's palace made of infernal iron: a hotel, bar, and cabaret establishment known as Pleasure in Chains. Inside, they're greeted by a well-groomed fire genasi man who eagerly sweeps them into the lounge and begins proffering the virtues of the establishment: cabaret shows every other hour and fights of a hundred different formats in their rings daily; plus of course all the slaves they see in both are readily available for purchase. While the party are reeling from his cheery casualness regarding slavery, the genasi gestures to the bar and four shimmering, blue cocktails are brought forth: a Marid's claret, they're told. The drinks taste truly incredible, both fruit and sweet, but lingering with mellow alcoholic notes that roll around the whole palate.
	+ The genasi starts quoting prices and start times for the various slave shows and Pyt deftly moves the conversation elsewhere, saying the place is far too rich for their blood. The half-elf asks if the genasi might recommend some places a little less high end where their coin would still be good. He's met with a truly pitying gaze, then the fire genasi groom nods a few times and jots down some names of local places in order of budget: Hag Ridden, Nostalgia, Fall from Grace, and lastly Dead Cheap. The latter is only if their budget is really very tight indeed, the genasi stresses.
	+ The party thank the flame-haired man and leave, then quickly decide to head to Dead Cheap.
* Down the road from the expensive slaving hotel is a small alley that spill out into a clearing between iron skyscrapers. A squat, ugly, windowless, one-storey building dominates the space. The party of four walk up to the door and knock. There's a bit of banging inside and then the door pulled open sharply. The ever-grin of a fleshless skeleton's face greets them, then sweeps his arm inside in a dramatic gesture to beckon them in. Its gesticulating hand falls off at the wrist as it does so, quickly scurrying away on its own into the shadows. Through the front door is a small bar room with four circular tables. A candle burns atop a humanoid skull as a centrepiece for each, and together with more candles along the walls and bar, provides the only light in the room. A dozen skeletons in total shake and rattle as they swagger about, apparently cleaning up the place and readying it for service. Behind the bar stands a squat, heavy-set, dark-skinned human woman in her middle years. A wide brimmed hat shades much of her face, but the smile she flashes seems genuine enough as she welcomes the party to Dead Cheap!
	+ The barkeep tells the group name as Nancy and that she's got three rooms in all in the establishment: the big room, and two little rooms, one of which is presently occupied. The party take the big room for 'a week in Terca time,' which Nancy agrees to give them for a total of 200 gold, drinks separate.
	+ She tells them Lionel will show them to their room and a skeleton with keys hung from one of his ribs spins his arms in wild circles before making a leg and ending ending the whirl of his limbs pointing the way. Nancy thanks Lionel but tells him to stop showing off. The party love him.
	+ Lionel leads them to a small hallway tacked on to the side of the bar that leads to Dead Cheap's three rooms for rent. The first one is there's and he unlocks the door after fumbling for a bit with the key, then hands it to them, makes an exaggerated bow, and swaggers away. A number of scurrying severed hands rush out the room when they crack the door.
	+ The room is basic and grungy in the extreme, but after moving a bit of furniture about its big enough for Pyt's drum-yurt to fit inside so suits their purposes well enough.
	+ They all get a much needed 'night' of rest.
* When they wake up and go back to Dead Cheap's bar, one of the four tables is occupied by a chatting tiefling duo and another serves for a lone cloaked man who's nursing a drink.
	+ Aerendyl is happy to buy drinks for the others. Nancy only serves whisky or beer. Both cost a gold and drink and both taste pretty terrible. They ask her about Dis as they have a few drinks at the bar. She tells them the Pleasure Gardens are a popular tourist spot, as is Gods' Row and Mammon's Mint - where the soul coins are made and where a lot of prominent bounties in the Hells are cashed in, since the quarry's soul can be minted quite quickly thereafter.
	+ The party take a table and discuss their plan of action for a bit. Aerendyl ends up mentioning aloud that Mephistopheles might soon learn about them and pursue, and soon after the lone man in the room finishes his drink, gets up, and leaves. Pyt worries and decides to follow the man.
	+ Using his *mislead* spell, Pyt follows the man invisibly as he makes his way down Piss Alley and into a large establishment. The floor of the massive tavern in the entrance is a sunken circle, and the floors above are all a series of large, circular balconies that look down onto the subterranean entrance floor. A beautiful, large, androgynous creature sits in a cage-like chair hanging from the very centre of the ceiling high above looking down on the happenings of the place, wrapping itself in a pair of wings that start white at the shoulder blades and shift gradually through shades of grey until they are black at the tips. The patrons of the busy establishment are as eclectic as the streets of Piss Alley themselves.
	+ Pyt follows the man to the bar and watches him talk to a tiefling woman working there. They speak in Infernal, which Pyt doesn't understand, but he watches and listens to the scene carefully and then takes his leave. As he's heading back to Dead Cheap, Pyt turns the memory of their foreign-language conversation into a thought thread. He hands that to Wilfred when he gets back to Dead Cheap, the gnome breaks it in two, and the thread dissolves as Wilfred sees Pyt's memory: the man who left Dead Cheap asks the tiefling woman, '... gnome, goblin. Let me know if there's any word that Mephistopheles is looking for them in the coming days.'
	+ Wilfred wants to talk about this privately and so casts *telepathic bond*, but is immediately overwhelmed by the looming, invasive presence of the ever-paranoid Dispater, Lord of the Fourth, listening in to any telepathic communication that would happen in his realm. The gnome immediately gives up on telepathy.
* On Wilfred's suggestion, they go back to their room, get in the hut, and then he fills them in on the man that Pyt followed asking for info about them to be passed on to him.
	+ The sticking point for the group at the moment is that they could still do with more rest, but they're worried about idling for too long. Further, some of them think it would be good if they earned some money, but others are worried about that either taking too long, drawing too much attention to them, or it resulting in them ending up signing more deals.
	+ For the time being, Wilfred gets out the box he'd taken from Mephistopheles's hall of contracts. Its a puzzle box cube that takes him four hours to solve with the assistance of the others. Inside is a contract spelled out in sharp infernal runes that have been chiselled on to linked sheets of infernal iron. The contract is for one Amar ibn-Ishak al-Qarashi, stipulating that the lives of his six children be spared from the deadly effects of a blood plague in exchange for the soul of his seventh being given to Mephistopheles. They ponder it for a bit and then Wilfred puts it away.
* While they're in their room in Dead Cheap, Aerendyl scries on the vampire Zadimus:

> *The still water in Aerendyl's bowl shimmers, ripples, and then clears, revealing a pallid, elfin face with ruby red eyes. The vampire is prone atop a black slab and chains appear to bind him.*
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> *Eventually, he turns his face to his right and speaks.*
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> **Zadimus**: Ilphas? Have you awoken? . . . Ilphas, you should talk to me. I promise you it will make what you're feeling easier. . . Ilphas I think --
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> *He's interrupted by the sound of a heavy door opening and closing. Footsteps and a cane click on the floor as they approach Zadimus on his slab and the scrying sensor Aerendyl and the others are perceiving through. The top of a bulbous amnizu appears in their window of sight, standing beside the slab and looking down at Zadimus atop it.*
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> **Zadimus** (grinning): Good of you to come. I was just--
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> *The amnizu fiddles with something hung around his next and a bright light shines forth. Zadimus's screams break like ice. His flesh burns as readily as firewood, his piercing eyes hiss and steam, his unlife rushes away from him.*
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> *Then the amnizu fiddles with the thing hanging at his chest again and the light shuts off, mere moments before Zadimus expires. The vampire appears to be little more than a charred husk gasping for breath, but he manages a few words.*
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> **Zadimus** (panting): Really . . . works the . . . knots out. Best kind of wake-up call really . . .
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> **The amnizu** (in Infernal): Open the cage!
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> *The sound of chains being worked and something akin to a portcullis rising fills the air, quickly followed by small, animal squeaks and the flapping of leathery wings.*
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> *The badly burned form of Zadimus is swarmed by the wretched forms of many stirges, the bat-mosquito hybrids all fat and bloated with blood. Their questing proboscises dig into Zadimus's flesh and their bellies start to shrink as they forcibly inject the life blood they were carrying into the vampire's body.*
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> *He coughs blood and writhes, but his eyes go wide like a junkey getting their fix. The blood fuels him and soon his charred flesh is whole and unmarked once more. The stirges flap away after a few casual wafts of the amnizu's hand.*
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> *Zadimus turns his head to his right again and coughs a few times*.
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> **Zadimus**: I am grateful, as ever, for your gift, Ilphas.
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> *The amnizu rocks Zadimus's head with a backhand then makes to depart.*
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> **The amnizu** (in Infernal): Two chain devils to start today. And lock the cage once more.
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> *The party hear the sound of the amnizu leaving, the chains working whatever the cage is again, and then two figures approaching Zadimus on his slab. Zadimus squashes his chin to his chest to look at those approaching him.*
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> **Zadimus**: Lads, back so soon?
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> *And then the knives and hooks of the chain devils go to work on the vampire and his screams fill the air once more.*
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* After seeing Zadimus's predicament, Aerendyl remarks that he seems to be in good spirits despite apparently having suffered centuries of that treatment already. Pyt suggests that maybe the good humour is really all you have in that sort of situation.
* The group grab a bottle of whisky from necro-Nancy, pay off their drinks tab and 100 gold of their 200 gold bill for their room, with the rest to come from them in the second half of their stay. They wile away the hours in their room and then sleep again.