The episode picks up mid-disguise, with the party's Disguise Self spells burning down to their final fifteen minutes. They've gathered enough from their conversation with Jimmy to know the broad strokes: the Cindersworn control the town's defenses, the festival's biggest night is tomorrow, and the Sump — Ironhelm's underground prison — is somewhere to the south. With the clock ticking, they decide to spend what's left of their spells on a quick reconnaissance of the Sump before the illusions drop entirely.

Still in their disguised festival costumes, the party weaved through the growing festival crowds toward the Brook Borough and the Sump's stone structure came into view — squat, windowless, and grim, rising above the swampy water that rings its base. A handful of guards stood post outside the main entrance. Anton, playing the role of a wheezing old woman in need of fresh air, talked his way past a Cindersworn guard blocking the nearby dock with a natural twenty on his Deception roll. The guard, suddenly very concerned about the frail old woman's health, stepped aside without a second thought.

At the end of the dock, Anton scanned the back of the structure. There's no rear entrance, but there is something useful: a section of the stone wall meeting the waterline is heavily damaged and structurally unsound. The kind of wall that might not survive a swing from a large hammer and a reason to hurry. Returning to the group, he told them of the potential exit route.

The plan took shape: the cleaner approach is through the front, using Disguise Self scrolls to impersonate Cindersworn guards. The damaged wall became a Plan B and a way out if things go sideways.

With the Disguise Self spells finally wearing off, the party ducked into an alley and snapped back to their normal appearances — still wearing the princess festival costumes from Pitchoux's caravan. Forge, a mindforged in full plate armor, created a particular challenge: the costume, which was barely containing him during the magical disguise, now hulked out dramatically across his metalwork. The solution was an owlbear mask from Pitchoux's stock layered over a flowing robe draped across the armor. Not subtle, but perfectly festive.

The rest of the party kept their masks and costumes on. Walking through the streets back toward Rat's Market, Forge was stopped by two guards who asked him to show himself. A quick and confident Persuasion roll from Forge sold the bit — the mask is, apparently, very stuck — and they waved him through with an eye roll.

The party made their next stop at the Tallow & Tincture, a narrow, pleasantly aromatic potion and scroll shop tucked into Rat's Market's western side. The proprietor, a soft-spoken gnome named Saravelle, greeted them warmly and complimented their costumes. Forge purchased a glass eye — specifically, a warm amber-brown one — to use as an arcane focus for Clairvoyance, a spell he'd been sitting on as a scouting option. The party also picked up a couple of Detect Magic scrolls for good measure.

Gemma tried to warm Saravelle up to a conversation about the Cindersworn, but the gnome went noticeably stiff at the question. She mentioned they're regular customers and that she doesn't ask questions. It's enough to confirm what the party already suspected: the town is occupied, not collaborating, and people are keeping their heads down.

Horses secured, carts stabled, the party checked into the Hearthside Inn, a lively, packed establishment in full festival swing. They rented two rooms: a queen for Gemma and Willa, two twins for Anton and Forge, with the understanding that Forge would spend the night in sentry mode. The innkeeper, a cheerful blonde human who seemed to be enjoying his own stock, brought out a sprawling spread of food and drink, and for a rare moment the party simply ate.

Over lunch, Willa caught something from the table behind them: two locals muttering about Governor Gillendane, who apparently can't stand the Cindersworn presence and has been at increasing odds with Spider Lily since she took over the town's defenses. The Governor is still around — confined to his manor on the hill, furious and powerless, but alive and apparently a source of discontent. The party noted this and wondered aloud whether there's an underground resistance they might be able to tap into.

The name Sovemil — their long-missing companion — was spoken casually at the table. A beat too much reaction came from the stage: the bard who plucked a lute missed a note and started watching them from the corner of his eye. Forge noticed. He tipped the bard generously between sets, complimented his playing, and then said Sovemil's name again to confirm the reaction. The bard went rigid.

A gentle but pointed conversation in the corner of the tavern revealed the bard was a Cindersworn informant named Dorian — a newer recruit tasked with keeping an eye on the tavern for unusual activity. He wasn’t especially dedicated to the cause, just looking out for himself. When the conversation started to close off and Dorian eyed someone at the bar, Forge telepathically signaled Gemma and cast Fast Friends. Dorian failed the Wisdom save.

Suddenly very fond of everyone at the table, Dorian told them everything. Sovemil is, as has been confirmed before, being held in the main ritual chamber inside the volcano Khorir itself. The Cindersworn are using him, a servant of the sea goddess, to twist and power their fire magic. The ritual chamber is considered sacred ground within the cult. Dorian, as a newer member, had never been granted access. The city guard was also confirmed to be under Spider Lily’s command, operating largely through fear. And tomorrow night, during the festival's biggest celebrations, guard presence at the Sump will be lighter than usual.

He also mentioned a second prisoner: Aztlan Tuckoron, who was being held in the Sump's lower level, which Dorian described as decidedly unpleasant.

The party started talking about bringing Dorian upstairs for a nightcap and a quieter conversation when Forge's passive Perception caught something. The other Cindersworn Dorian had nodded toward earlier — a man named Clarence, sitting at the bar — was no longer in his seat.

While Anton, Forge, and Gemma looked for him outside, Willa, sent to check the bathroom and back of house, found Clarence in the kitchen, pressed against a wall with a sending stone in his hand. She stepped in with a smile and a story about shots. Clarence pocketed the stone and followed her back out, calculating.

Anton stepped in front of the exit. A dagger appeared, pressed discreetly against Clarence's side. As tension built, customers of the tavern began to take notice. Clarence told the adventurers that reinforcements were already on their way — and that’s when two Watch guards and two Cindersworn entered.

Gemma subtly cast Suggestion on Clarence and told him to send off the newcomers and to leave Ironhelm completely. Failing the save, the cultist did as was suggested, waved off the guards with a “false alarm,” ushered them out the door, and began walking down the street, pulling Dorian along with him.

The Soul Survivors, catching their breath for a moment, realized the duration of the spells cast upon the two Cindersworn. The Fast Friends spell on Dorian had maybe an hour left. Clarence, charmed but dangerous, would eventually piece together what happened. And two Cindersworn now know something was off in this tavern tonight. There was only one real choice they had to make.

Gemma caught up with Dorian and Clarence and convinced them to come up to their room at the inn for a send-off toast. Though Clarence, spellbound, was determined to leave town, he agreed to the offer.

Escorting everyone to the room, Anton met Forge's eyes. Then he stepped behind Clarence and put him in a sleeper hold. Forge placed a firm hand on Dorian's shoulder before wringing his metal hands around his neck, breaking the spell he’d cast upon him. Dorian then saw exactly what was happening — a flash of betrayal crossing his face — and then he was out too.

Two unconscious bodies on the floor. The session ended there, with the party standing over them in a rented room at the Hearthside Inn, one night before the festival's biggest celebration, and a jailbreak still ahead.