The party stands before the remorhaz’s nest, heat radiating from the creature’s segmented carapace in waves that make the air shimmer. Six eggs rest in the depression beneath its coiled body, their shells reflecting the dull red glow of the beast’s internal furnace. The seventh egg, larger and mottled with cream and gold, sits slightly apart from the others.
Thunk watches the odd egg closely, his sharp, bugbear eyes catching the subtle movement the others miss—a tremor, then another, stronger this time. The shell quivers with whatever presses against it from within.
Borark’s posture shifts. Several party members recognize the telltale signs of an impending charge.
Thunk’s attention is dragged from the egg to Borark, whose face wears a snarl. “Grab him!” he cries to the others.
“Don’t—” Arman starts, as he rushes toward the tiefling.
But Borark is already moving, warhammer raised, bellowing as he rushes the nest. The remorhaz’s head snaps around with terrifying speed. Its mandibles close on Borark’s shoulder with a sickening crunch, and the barbarian’s battle cry transforms into a howl of pain. Arman lunges forward, seizing Borark by the back of his armor and hauling him backward before the creature can strike again. The remorhaz settles back over its nest, heat waves intensifying around its body.
Behind the massive centipede-like form, a sharp crack echoes through the cavern. The seventh egg splits, fragments of shell tumbling away to reveal a tiny griffin, its feathers matted and dark, its beak opening in a soundless cry.
“A griffin,” Thunk whispers. “We could take it!”
Thunk and Arman exchange glances, ideas passing between them without words. The bugbear gestures toward the far side of the nest while Arman nods, already moving to implement their plan. The monk begins making exaggerated movements, drawing the remorhaz’s attention, letting his shadow play across the creature’s field of vision. The monster’s head tracks him, mandibles clacking.
While the remorhaz watches Arman, Thunk moves with surprising grace for his size, circling wide around the nest. His massive hands close gently around the newborn griffin, lifting it free from the scattered eggshell. The baby creature weighs almost nothing, its body still slick from the egg. The remorhaz continues watching Arman, seemingly unaware that one of its charges has vanished.
The party edges backward, then turns and hurries into the tunnel beyond the nest chamber, the griffin chirping softly in Thunk’s arms.
⚔
They press eastward through the cavern system, still searching for their truck. The tunnel narrows, then ends abruptly in solid stone. Borark studies the wall, hefts his warhammer, and begins smashing at the rock face. Behind him, Thunk murmurs healing words over Kiki, magical energy knitting her wounds.
“Anyone want to go through first?” Borark asks when he finally breaks through, breathing hard from the effort.
Silence greets his question. The tiefling shrugs and steps through the opening.
And vanishes.
The party rushes forward, peering through the hole to find a dark shaft angling sharply downward. The walls glisten with ice or something slicker. Even Thunk, leaning into the darkness with his superior vision, cannot see the bottom.
One by one, they leap after their companion. Thunk hesitates at the edge, cradling the griffin close to his chest, and sighs deeply about the unfortunate power of peer pressure before throwing himself into the void.
The tunnel rushes past in a blur of wet stone and darkness. They tumble end over end until the shaft spits them out into a heap at the bottom of a deep pit. Ice crusts the walls, rising sixty feet to a distant opening far above. No other exits present themselves.
“Right,” Arman says, climbing to his feet. “Who’s going first?”
Several voices volunteer simultaneously. Reklaw steps forward, studies the ice wall briefly, then simply runs up it, his monk training allowing him to defy gravity long enough to reach the top. His rope uncoils as he drops it down to the others.
Kiki weaves her hands through an incantation, and suddenly her Jump spell allows her to really jump. She seizes the rope and bounds upward, magic propelling her to safety.
Borark, never one for conventional solutions, jams his javelins into the ice and begins hauling himself up through sheer determination and upper body strength. He dangles from the wall, muscles straining, when Arman’s form begins to shift and expand below him. The changeling becomes something else—something massive and terrible. Arman manifests as Dispater, ruler of one of the pits of Hell. His towering frame is crowned with horns, his enormous presence filling the space with sulfurous heat. The archdevil’s enormous hand extends toward Borark, who leaps onto it without hesitation, knowing that it is actually Arman. The enormous hand of Dispater lifts him effortlessly to the top.
Thunk hits the ground hard during his own attempt, pain shooting through his shoulder, but he keeps the griffin protected against his chest. Eventually, he too makes it to the top. Vali, the last to climb, scrambles up the rope and collapses on solid ground, where Thunk is already distributing more healing magic to those who need it.
⚔
They follow a narrow passage until it opens into a larger chamber. A cloud giant stands in their path, his blue-tinged skin darkening to cobalt at his extremities. He looks down at them from his twenty-five foot height.
“What do you want, small ones?” His voice rolls through the cavern like distant thunder.
Borark, for once, takes a step backward. “Nothing. What are you doing here?”
“Guarding something of value,” the giant booms.
Kiki’s eyes widen. Past the giant’s massive legs, she spots the distinctive grill of her truck—*her* truck, the one she has spent countless hours maintaining and modifying. The Jump spell still thrums in her blood. She doesn’t stop to think. She simply leaps.
The giant’s hand closes around her mid-flight, plucking her from the air as easily as catching a moth.
“Wait!” Thunk steps forward, spreading his hands. “Please, you have to understand our situation. I’m trying to raise a child—this child—” he gestures to Kiki dangling in the giant’s grip, “with my partner. It’s so hard, raising a family alone, and—”
The giant tilts his head, considering this. “Perhaps,” he rumbles slowly, “your suffering comes in part from the fact that you find yourselves in Hell, attempting to raise a child in such a place
