The Keepers of Chaos: A Vault of Hell

Vaelle Lurval: CXX

"No." Andraste groaned "We don't need an army.. We already have Mert, and Renaer is meeting us there.."

"Knowing our luck we're gonna have like three groups of enemies show up to kill us," Herod remarked.

"... Fair." Adleth shrugged. Vaelle pulled up her shield onto her back tucking the spear behind her as well. "So do we get going?" Herod stepped forward flipping the large bar of adamantium in his grasp. His smirk was infections.

"Ladies and gentlemen.." Herod began, dusting off his shoulder. "Let's go pull off a Dragon Heist."

The stretch to the location took a shorter time than Vaelle expected. The grassy fields of the southern ward were bleached by the sun, she looked up at the ruined windmill they'd fought in just a little while ago. Where she had conquered her enemies, with her real friends' help. She racked her brain, so with the opera on the twentieth that meant today was conclusively the twenty-second. They had eightish days left until Founder's day.

The summer breeze was kind especially since she was dressed in a new black cloak and leather armor. Riu had been so kind to supply her with new clothes and now she felt like a new woman. Her black hair was still free around her shoulders with a black cloak and white cloth around her armor. She swallowed a nervous breath back, her eyes met the windmill cautiously. Vaelle spotted three distinct figures, two of which she vaguely recognized. Vestus had rightfully recommended to her to keep socializing to a minimum at the opera; she was a former cultist so she had no way of knowing how the Harpers would react to her. On the left was the large portly man of Mert. His hefty grin was on full display despite the blinding sun she could still fucking see it. Next to Mert was Renaer Neverember. Every eligible girl in Waterdeep knew his name, a loaded man with a heart of gold and a rush for adventure? Finally next to Renaer was a red-haired woman dressed as a traditional rogue.

"Hello!" Mert called when they reached him. Vaelle peered around the windmill it was beaten and covered in graffiti. "I see you could make it.. Don't worry about the guards I've already alerted the ones I trust."

"Good," Vestus replied. He was rubbing his hands on his back, Vaelle spotted a large great axe. Its blade shimmered with soft red energy, not a blood-red but more similar to the orangish-red glow from the forge. "We're going somewhere we don't fully know we should probably be careful. No one does anything stupid."

"Markos." Andraste added.

"I have one character trait and I've been allowed to do it twice. You can expect nothing." Markos decried. Vaelle wasn't sure what the heck that even meant.

"Character trait? The fuck do you mean?" Herod questioned.

"Markos.. You were friends with my son I don't think he would want you to get yourself killed.." Vestus put a hand on the cultist's shoulder though the half-elf had no reply. They moved into the windmill Alekzandr leading the way.

"The stone showed me a door.. I believe somewhere just around- ah here." Alekzandr wiped dust free from a corner of the downstairs pulling up a rather large wooden trap door. She shivered, the inside was suddenly cold. Dusty webs and crumbling pillars surrounded her.

"Well that wasn't so hard." Adleth chuckled. Underneath the trap door were a set of stairs that went down a few feet. At its bottom was an enormous double-sided adamantine door. Scrawled with runes, symbols, and letters. "Ah there's the ass fucker."

They descended the steps as a group, she kept glancing back noticing the six cultists were leading the tail looking at each other with terrified expressions. Ah.. To be a cultist she recalled; it was miserable.

"Can any of you read dwarvish?" Mert demanded the letters all around the twenty-foot doors were clearly dwarvish in nature. In fact, it looked rather similar to Alekzandr's language. Quite literally five hands flew up in the party heck even one of the cultists raised their hand.