You get an expedition outfitted post-haste and inform Princess Annika that you're going straight to Hell, which she's suspicious about before you add that this is not any kind of metaphor. At that point she is fully on board! The secretar
Congratulations! Spymaster Vaskir Sitar of Ortfast has embarked on an operation!256 S.I., New Year's Eve
You've arrived in force on Bald Mountain (one of many in the country, though this one is balder than most) and been camping for a good day or so, making preparations for the ritual as the stars align atop the blasted surface of what is really more of a hill. Nevertheless, the place used to host a lot of witches before the local governor ran them off, and it's sufficiently remote for your purposes, as well as defensible if need be. You've put on your most ceremonial outfit, and your operatives stand ready. Princess Annika sits in a chair you've brought, attended by a very nervous-looking physician you brought along.
As the ceremony begins, the first sign you're doing this right comes in the form of clouds twisting about in the night sky like a nascent tornado. You begin to chant the name, and the signal is made to bleed a whole pint from your guest of honor. She winces a little, but seems altogether too excited to protest.
You chant the name, and the ritual grail is brought to you after the bloodletter's done with it - and so it is that by the bell, the book and the candle you petition the Duke of Pride and Longing to tear a path through the cosmos and permit you passage! Haha, shouts Princess Annika over the screaming of reality being literally ripped a new one, this is the best thing ever!
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You thrust your hands forward and there is an otherworldly crack of thunder as a seam in reality rips open, parting to reveal a rift around which the dim ritual-light lenses, showing an ominous, beckoning darkness in front of you. Black, distressingly humanoid winged shadows flicker in the sky, circling around in deathly harmony.
Two of your operatives suddenly fall, arrows lodged in their skulls. Three more are about to shout, but the brazier next to them suddenly flares into a fireball, consuming them on the spot. The physician begins to run for his life as an armored figure crashes into another band of operatives, swinging a longsword in a broad arc. And finally, an appropriately black-clad figure steps nonchalantly out of your lookout post, a trail of slit throats left in his wake.
Oh hey, the Princess says, it's the Spymaster! You look at her in surprise. No no, she says, not you, the
other one. And his friends from way back, too! Sir Ludovic, is that you? You notice the armored figure swivel his head a little in the Princess' direction.
This is not going according to plan. Most of your minions are dead or incapacitated, and these people don't appear to be in a negotiating mood.
Operatives Remaining: 3/12A) Take the Princess, run into the hellmouth and dare them to follow as your few remaining minions buy precious seconds of time.
B) Let them have the Princess and run into the hellmouth on your own - her part in this is done. Take your minions instead.
C) Let them have the Princess and sacrifice your few remaining minions to cover your own escape, this has gone irrevocably tits-up.