Neverwinter Night Solution : My hero, Hordes of the Underdark

Hordes of the Underdark

After a lot of hopping around the planes I finally got back to Faerun and made my way to Waterdeep. I’ve rented the best room in one of the best inns in the city and am having a good long soak in a hot bath before a much-needed sleep in a real bed. This is what life is really about, eh.

Life, don’t talk to me about life. First decent nights sleep in the gods only know how long and I’m tossing and turning with disturbing dreams, then woken up to the sound of some stinking drow casting a spell to send everything I own to the nine hells. I’ll ruddy kill her!

And kill her I did, but that was the start of a startling journey that literally tugged, pulled and dragged me screaming into the nine hells. Or precisely, the 8th hell of Baator. I recovered most of my equipment, bar my bags of holding, which I am still fuming about, but on the positive side I forced a Thiefling to travel the planes creating an epic sonnet about me and my partner in dust and grime, Deekin.

So, finally, I am relaxing in a boiling hot tub of water, my wings being waxed by an incredibly beautiful erinyes that latched onto me in Cania’s Hellbreath tavern and, for some reason, The Reaper allowed through the portal to Waterdeep to witness our defeat and banishing of the arch-devil Mephistopheles.

Deekin, meanwhile, is beside himself, his tail tail lashing in happiness. I didn’t think the little guy had it in him, but he traded his favourite quill and ink artifacts we found in Undrentide for the true name of his publisher. I’m not sure what was said in that whispered conversation as he handed over the black ink-blood of Karsus, the archwizard of Netheril, but the evil grin on the ancient Baatorian’s face spoke volumes.

So it ends, for now. I am surrounded by weapons to make the very gods tremble, while Deekin is flying circles around Aribeth and her true love, begging them to fill in the gaps for his next novel on the redemption of the once fallen paladin.