29^th day of Janos, cy 4862, the Cataclysm of Malakar.

Shattered by the destruction of the free citadel of Nyrnik, Morikand Bitchpiss and Nalgron Asturian move further inland. Both men take time to recover. They had just witnessed the full power – and anger – of Grayhawk’s youngest deity. Malakar destroyed his own temple, along with thousands of his worshippers, in order to take revenge on Baron Vetrick Agraaki.

Morikand creates a pentacle of travel and the two companions shift to the Astral Plane. From there Morikand hunts for a doorway that leads to a fabled demonic realm – the Plane of the Mage. The arch mage soon realises that this particular plane will not be easy to locate. Instead he summons a demon to him (from the plane). The short demonic imp is startled to be stood in the Astral Plane.

"Take me to your master," Morikand urges the imp.

"I cannot," the imp replies, genuinely terrified of the two men. "It is forbidden…on pain of death."

Morikand binds the imp and forces a service. Reluctantly the imp reveals that he is merely a servant to the masters of the plane.

"There are no gateways to Agrimemnia," the imp explains, "in fact that is one of the main reasons that so little is known about it. All portals are temporary and used as a last resort; there is a whole academy devoted to the protection of outside infiltration."

"There must be a way," Morikand says.

The imp is again forced to divulge whatever information he possesses.

"Although travel out of Agrimemnia is rare there are occasions where the masters need to communicate with, or gather information from, other demons. On these occasions a bodyguard is sent with the mage and only with this bodyguard can one move to and from Agrimemnia. These bodyguards wear an amulet – designed by the masters – that will open the membrane of the plane and allow them – and those close to them – to reach one of the great academies."

Morikand dismisses the imp and concentrates on summoning one of the elusive bodyguards from Agrimemnia. After several failed attempts a brutish, malevolent soul appears in the form of a giant humanoid. A savage warrior with dual greatswords and a powerful magical presence stands before them.

Morikand fails to bind it and he and Nalgron find themselves in a fight. The bodyguard is fast and deadly but the two men are able to slay it. Morikand takes the amulet and prepares a pentacle of travel.

He wastes no time in focusing on the Plane of the Mage and soon both men find themselves in a beautifully manicured garden in the grounds of a vast and towering construction. There are no guards visible, only various demonic presences that Morikand can feel.

On further investigation they realise that the demons that roam the grounds are students of the vast academy of magic that they are now in. Such is the diversity of the beings in the academy the two men blend in and are able to explore without fear of discovery. As an arch mage Morikand is impressed by the power here. Demonic sorcerers of great power walk amongst them as they hurry to their next class with the single-mindedness of beings on important errands.

When they are eventually challenged it is deep in the heart of the academy. A chillingly cold demonic presence is before them; a pale human face with sunken eyes and a baleful expression. "You will be destroyed on the spot if you are found."

"I am Morikand Bitchpiss…I need to speak to the master of this school."

"I know who you are…but the welcome you receive here will be no warmer than the ice caps of Erredaeus. But I will help you escape if you like."

"You are not listening to me, demon, take me to the master or perish!"

The pale demon regards the demonologist carefully, as if weighing up his chances in a fight. Nalgron steps closer, a little more menacing than his companion and the demon’s bravado collapses. "Ok, ok! No need to get aggressive! But you will not thank me afterwards."

The master of the academy is a small humanoid whose eyes are bright crimson and whose disposition is – as the pale demon suggested – not welcoming.

"This is master Gallaad," the pale demon says before cowering away from the sorcerer.

"You have gone too far this time!" Gallaad spits venomously. "This plane is not for your kind but exclusively for demonkind!"

Morikand is unconcerned. "My soul is indistinguishable from a demon. My blood is like acid that will burn out your soul and my mind is more devious than any you teach here. I come in peace but am ready for anything you throw at me.

"What is it to be, Gallaad? Parlay or perish?"

Gallaad is taken aback. "You insolent…"

"I am not here to fight but will tear down this place brick by brick if I have to. If you are not the right master then I will find another who is willing to listen to what I have to say. Think of it as someone returning home after a long holiday…if you are as bright as I think then you will know who I am and what I have achieved."

Gallaad sighs. "This is an academy of learning, not a battlefield. I will listen to you but your presence here will not be easy to accept."

Morikand shrugs. "We’ll see about that. Tell me about this plane…tell me about its secrets."

Gallaad begins the tale of Agrimemnia:

"We are ruled by the arch demon Gorthak, who sits in the largest academy / palace to the north. Twenty such academies exist, each one specialising in one of the Twenty Talents. Gorthak designed it this way to simplify the learning process and easily separate the powers of the universe.

"My own talent is with the Spirits; their usage, their influences and their Paths.

"If it exists magically then it is studied on this plane. Furthermore some of the newest skills come from Agrimemnia, some of the greatest sorcerous minds work here, either as students or as masters who research and develop their own magic.

"Some of the greatest minds in the universe have studied here, although to date they have been exclusively demonic. Gorthak wants to keep it that way. His tolerance of humankind is limited; most of the problems that have occurred in the Abyss have the hand of mortal humans all over it."

Morikand considers the words of the master. "Take me to Gorthak."

Gallaad is shocked. "Have you not heard what I have said?"

"I have listened and now I am even more determined. Take me to him."

Eventually Morikand gets his way. Gorthak’s academy is larger than most kingdoms back on Grayhawk. A colossal collection of universities, barracks to protect them, markets to feed them, and a huge harbour to provide them with transport across Agrimemnia’s massive oceans.

Despite Gallaad’s words Gorthak is kind and cultured an urbane demonic presence that indulges in small talk and is friendly and civil. The first meeting between them is in a quiet chamber filled with books, many tomes that have prodigious magical surges.

"I wondered who would be the first mortal to infiltrate this most secretive place," Gorthak says, "and in some ways I am glad that it is you, Morikand Bitchpiss. Gresil spoke often of you and because of your efforts to free him from the clutches of Muziel I will give you whatever you desire.

"Gresil was a student of these walls. The day he left was a dark one; he and I were great friends, both in and out of studies. But a talent like his could not be contained within the walls of our great academies. Alas I had to let him go…now I wonder whether that was a wise choice.

"I realise however that this is perhaps not a social visit."

"I need a base," Morikand says bluntly.

"Then you have found one," Gorthak smiles. "I will create a large area within this academy to your specifications and will arrange for you – and your mortal companion – to have access to the libraries and the armoury. Alas the library will not be as thorough as Gresil’s but then again nothing will ever come close to my friend’s talent."

It is to Avrassir – the Queen of Succubi – that Morikand turns to as emissary. She keeps him informed of progress in Lassar’s Maze. Her latest report:

"It is a waiting game now," the sibilant voice of the arch demoness informs them. "Muziel has no intention of leaving the Maze of Lassar; he almost goads us now. Bulldread and Gasharn are constantly at each others’ throats. Bulldread wants to send in an army but Gasharn is certain that Muziel will use the chaos of battle to escape.

"Throstar gets more agitated by the hour; his mood is sour – which is probably a good thing – his humour is deadly! The Prince of Mirth wants an end to this siege and the troops are getting restless. If nothing happens soon then I think the Council of Morikand may well start attacking each other…"

Morikand realises that this cannot be allowed to happen. He contacts Gasharn and Bulldread and brings them to him to smooth over their differences.

With the two arch demons before him, in the backdrop of his impressive new quarters, Morikand lays down the law;

"This is exactly what Muziel wants," the arch demonologist says angrily, "he knows that time is on his side…in fact you two have no idea of just how much time Muziel does have. It is his weapon of choice and if my time with Vetrick taught me anything it is that he can exploit any chaos and slip away unseen. This will not happen. If you have to wait a thousand years then so be it…a thousand years you will wait. For the first time in history we have this bastard cornered and we must make it count!

"Even if his enforced incarceration just buys us time it is time we must use. I don’t expect this to be easy but I do expect unity. Muziel thrives on your conflict…if this conflict continues then he will certainly slip away. I will not have that…think on this – now get out of my sight!"

Stunned the two arch demons scurry off back to their posts as Morikand is left with his thoughts. He is soon joined by Gorthak.

"It is a pity you were not demon born," the arch demon ruler of Agrimemnia says, "for you would make a fine arch demon."