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Shielding Mr. Von Figaro with my draconic form, I took a terrible blow from the fiendish vrock as I stumbled through the portal. Despite the enhanced constitution of my dragon body, I knew I was on death’s doorstep. As I manifested beside the vrock on the other end of the portal, I wheeled away clumsily as if my life depended on it. Involuntarily dropping my modrone charge in the maneuver—but clinging to my client in a clawed talon—I tumbled across the unfamiliar town square. Fearing to draw unwanted attention lest I fly high, I stayed low and collapsed in the corner of some buildings to recover my senses.

Before I knew it, I felt a sudden reinvigorating surge, as my modrone ally imbued me with healing energy. Once again feeling powerful, I re-entered the fray, beside the cleric and Mrs. Slaughter. Unused to this new form though I feared entering combat directly, and instead blasted the fiend with lightning—momentarily forgetting that demons are immune to such energy.

With my senses clearing, I surveyed the scene and immediately recognized our greater danger. City guard were approaching, and unless I restrained them, they would no doubt become accidental casualties. From a legal perspective this potentiality was quite worrisome, so I flew above the crowd and called out to the guards to cease their approach. They continued a pace, but thankfully refrained from engaging us.

Once the vrock was dispatched, I was able to regain my form and persuade the captain to look the other way. I handed him a tidy sum of gold to keep him quiet and pacified. The fewer questions asked and the sooner we departed the better. Mollified by the gold and my deferential manner, the captain let us clean up the body and retreat to Sigil in peace.

Upon our return to the city of doors, the party split ways. While the others went to sell the body of the fiend we’d killed or report to their factions, I bought some scrolls and retired to my office to study the documents I obtained from Mr. Sanp’s apartment. Most of the papers involved the names and comings and goings of fiends and abyssal emissaries unfamiliar to me. One page though, contained a map of the demon web pits. While I have no particular desire to visit Lolth’s realm, others might. So recognizing this as potentially valuable intrigue, I made several copies.

When my work was done, I went to meet Ms. Debell and Mr. Von Figaro at the Hall of Records for a debriefing. I suffered quite the shock upon my arrival, however, when I was informed by my client that his vassal Ms. Skippy had piqued the attention of the lord of Zelatar himself by tampering with the portal to his domain. Suffice to say, I'm afraid I'll need to repay Ms. Debell for the wine I spilled on her desk. When we finished reporting about our recent ventures, and I submitted a copy of the drow papers, Ms. Debell gave a speech assuring us of the gratitude of the faction and the value of the credit we had accrued. I will need to think on how best to leverage this in the future.

That evening, we met with Mr. Grand again to deliver the message. I am hesitant to trust someone who sees conspiracies and shadowy enemies wherever he looks—and who voluntarily locks himself in a cage for that matter—but as my client seemed confident in him, I relayed the information I had received from the Bone Naga. He ranted about the machinations of an unspeakable shadow king who manipulates the Black Lotus and others to do his bidding. He believes the information I obtained from the Bone Naga will lead to a weapon of great power that could be used against my client’s enemy.

Regrettably, it seems that in the not too distant future I'll have the distinct displeasure of having to visit Pandemonium. My only consolation is that while these adventures are distasteful, they have been admittedly fruitful in my pursuit of increased power. I feel as though I am becoming closer to my draconic heritage daily. At any rate, he told us to wait until he confirmed the validity of our information. So, I have at least that blessing to count.

The following day, I buried myself in research, attempting to refresh and extend my knowledge of the Abyssal plane. For, I soon expect that we will return to that unpleasant place to act as saboteurs on behalf of the church of Pelor. Presumably there must be some profit to be gained from this new venture, or else I couldn’t possibly fathom why my client would bother to get involved. Ms. Slaughter is convinced that we are simply getting involved for the sake of obtaining a few green pelorian recruits for their war on that shadowy slave ring. I, on the other hand, realize that our patron, Mr. Von Figaro, must have some deeper, cannier motive. No doubt this gambit is part of some longer con. Certainly, I abhor slavery for my own personal reasons, but it is as immutable a presence in this universe as love, or money, or sin. Surely, a man as enterprising as my client feels the same.

At any rate, our contact provided us with the location of a two-way portal to Pazunia: a barbershop called T’Shad’s, next to the shattered temple in the lower ward of Sigil. The key is any piece of rusty iron. It is a little suspect though, so I have advised the party to first visit Broken Reach to gather information about our target. To that end, we are now shopping around for exotic poisons to gift to the matron of the town, Red Shroud. I believe in the end unicorn blood was the offering of choice among our party, although Mr. Calonverial looked even more uncomfortable with the whole project than I felt.

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