Sunday, Sarenith 26 (small hours)

We returned to our favorite manhole just before midnight, and immediately there was a new wrinkle. The cover was sealed with magic, and a small sign was posted next to it.

ACCESS RESTRICTED

Access to this sewer opening is denied to all without express permission by the East Shore District office. Existing permits rescinded unless countersigned by the East Shore District.

We backed off while I considered the matter, though it didn’t take me long to come up with a legal argument in our favor that would likely hold up in court. The city of Korvosa issued our pass to enter the sewers to perform our investigation, and there were three potential sticking points.

The first was that the pass was issued to us to investigate the source of the doppleganger conspiracy, and while we did get to the root of that, we also came across evidence of another crime committed by an influential Korvosan citizen, namely Loris Raknian. While I wouldn’t normally claim that our authority to investigate the first crime extended to the second, the fact is that Raknian’s involvement suggested a conspiracy with the first, and a conspiracy makes the two one and the same. Which means our authority to investigate was still valid. This was perhaps a shaky argument, but a logical one that I was confident we could defend.

The second issue was that the local authority was denying us access to the sewers. Here, we were on much more solid footing. While the East Shore District did have a right to restrict access to their sewers, the fact is that their authority did not trump the city’s. The East Shore District did not have the authority to revoke our pass.

The third was that we’d need to essentially circumvent the lock to exercise our authority. This was more of a gray area, but we could argue that the manhole cover was illegally and unreasonable sealed, and that the city was not consulted before taking this action. As our investigation had some urgency, there wasn’t time to go through proper channels to get it resolved.

So we broke in.

We also set off a magical alarm, but we learned our lesson and spotted the second one in advance. Viktor dispelled it, and we entered the sewer with no further interruptions. Since the second alarm didn’t go off, I think the guards up above assumed we had tried, and failed, to get inside. Whatever the reason, no one came looking for us.

With spells to conceal our passage and surround us in a layer of breathable air, and potions for invisibility, we managed to carefully sneak our way past the guards between the village and the arena’s underground. There were more alarm spells to contend with, but Cress summoned a dire rat to set them off and provide a visible distraction. This worked exceptionally well, and soon we back in the wine cellar.

With the assistance of a spell to locate secret doors, we found what we suspected was there, but had missed the first time. It opened up to reveal stairs going down. They were protected by a trap that Sera says was designed to outright kill the first person who entered.

Someone was going to a great deal of trouble to keep people out of here.

With that trap disabled, we descended to what we think was a sublevel halfway between the first basement level of the arena and the second…and were immediately accosted by over a dozen undead, most of them worm spawns of Kyuss. And beyond them was where we found the tiefling that was the source of all this trouble.

He sent two shadow demons after us, but they didn’t last long and soon we were facing him directly. That’s when he tried to bargain with us. “You know nothing of the forces at work here. Kill me, and you unleash your worst nightmare, without me to stop or control it!”

Or at least, it sounded like he was bargaining. I did some quick calculus on this: we keep him alive under the assumption that he will, what, exactly? Not unleash our worst nightmare? Be willing and able to control it if it gets out, anyway? This seemed like a bad deal to me, because it was open-ended, lacked specifics, and, let’s face it, there weren’t a lot of reasons to trust him.

Once he got the message we weren’t going to ask him to clarify his offer, much less take him up on it, he said, “I am nothing compared to the horror that I am preparing. Strike me down! My revenge will then be sure because it, uncontrolled, unfettered, will destroy you utterly!”

Then he recklessly charged me, and hit me with a spell that would rate as the singularly most unpleasant experience in my life. Wounds just erupted across my body and I nearly collapsed on the spot. I heard Zhog scream in a panic; he had a spell that monitored our health and it was one hell of a shock to both of us. Not gonna lie: I was very afraid for my life in that moment.

And, again, this is why I don’t banter during fights. Sometimes the unexpected happens. You don’t gloat until it’s done.

Fortunately, my friends acted quickly and provided some desperately needed healing. And the tiefling was now in the middle of the group of us because it was a suicide run, one where he planned on taking at least one of us—namely, me—down with him.

Now that he’s dead, the question became, “what now?” And it didn’t have an easy answer. It still doesn’t.

The Apostolic Scrolls were on an altar in the room, protected by some sort of force barrier. A green beam of light ran from them, down a long hallway and stopped in a dead end. I checked for auras and there was an overwhelming taint just beyond the wall. And as I stood in that green beam, I realized something was talking to me inside my head.

Bozal? Are you there? I feel my strength growing every day. So hungry…when will you let me feed?

I said to the others, “I think his name was Bozal”.

When can I be released? it asked. I am ready!

I tried thinking a response back to it. Bozal is currently out of the office. Would you like to leave a message?

A cautious reply came back. Who are you? Are…you of Kyuss?

I ignored this while we explored the hallway. An invisible force prevented us from passing more than half way down. And by “prevented”, I mean, “jolted me hard enough to hurt and prevented me from passing”.

We spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to get to whatever this thing was, and nothing was panning out. So I entered the green light again and asked, What would you like to eat? I mean, why not? If it’s being fed, there must be a way to feed it, right?

It answered back, Souls of the living! You promised me the soul of a champion!

Which is not at all the answer we were expecting. A complete picture of what was going on was starting to form: this thing would be unleashed at the end of the games, on the unsuspecting victors, and probably the unsuspecting crowds of thousands at the stadium. Not good! Not good at all!

We took a break from this puzzle to explore Bozal’s chambers, and that’s where we found our next surprise: a zombified woman matching Lahaka’s description. She didn’t react to us, and I went to put her out of her misery when Cress stopped me. “Her throat,” he said, pointing. “Look at her throat.”

The process of turning her into an undead had preserved the evidence of her murder. She had been strangled, and along her neck was what appeared to be the imprint of a ring. A ring with two serpents intertwined. A ring whose design exactly matched the one we’ve seen Raknian wear. He had strangled her then dumped her body on Bozal.

We destroyed the zombie, careful to preserve the neck, and stuffed her body in the magical bag for now (what else were we going to do with it?). I did not look forward to delivering this news, or her corpse, to Ekaym, but at least he’d have his answers.

I think we’re going to need a new bag because we keep shoving dead things in this one.

Also interesting was an incomplete note, apparently penned by Bozal. It said,

Raknian,

Don’t lose your focus. You have a bigger prize here and you know what is at stake for you personally. Just make sure your champions are at the center of the arena at the appointed time and you will have your promised reward.

We went back to the room with the scrolls and the creepy green light to consider our options. The best way to stop whatever was planned was to kill this thing here and now, but we couldn’t figure out a way to get to it. We proposed and rejected a whole slew of ideas, ranging from the impractical to the impossible, and got absolutely nowhere. Our only solace was that we still had a couple of days of games ahead of us.

“If we can’t figure out how to get to this thing,” I said, “and we’re right about our suspicions, then we need to be prepared to take it down when it bursts out…” My words just kinda died off as a horrible thought occurred to me. “Oh, crap! I just realized something! That thing told me what it was hungry for: it said, ‘Souls of the living! You promised me the soul of a champion!’

“The soul of a champion, not the soul of a specific champion. There’s already a champion! Last year’s champion is in the games right now!”

Shit.