The Rotted Bough
Twenty-Seventh Day of the Second Month 293 AC
The Archon's dungeons were among the most ancient chambers of the palace, carved into the bedrock beneath Tyrosh with the familiar razor-sharp measurements that bring to mind the sorcery of old, though obviously the project had been considered too mundane to sheathe in dragonstone. That you had expected the wailing, pleading and cursing that echoes through those dank and lightless halls does not make hearing them any more pleasant. They do, however, raise questions.
"Are some of the people in here the archon's prisoners still?" you ask the man at your side, the same lieutenant in the legion who had been with you at the storming of the gates.
"Aye," a prodigious yawn interrupts him, the unslept night catching up no doubt, followed by a stuttered apology you wave away. "We still aren't sure who's who, so we left 'em in here where they can get looked over," he continues. "Tossed them some food and drink, though. Some buckets of water to cut down on the stink, too."
"And the daemon worshipers?" you ask, silently vowing to yourself to make it so these damn dungeons could not pass for an anteroom of Hell through sheer neglect.
"Most of them've gone quiet, though two swallowed their tongues and died," the officer answers, a look of disgust mingled with just a hint of fear passing over his features. "Not the leader, though. Didn't even stir according to that Bronn fellow you set to guarding his door..." He seems faintly offended that you did not trust the Legion with the task, but you pass the matter by because truth be told you do not. If that madman had awoken and somehow removed enough of his curses and bindings to work magic there is precious little common legionaries could have done to keep him from escaping.
The silence carries you to down a narrow spiral of steps into the very deepest part of the dungeons from whence prisoners are not expected to return alive or dead you suspect, even their bones are left to rot as a silent testament to those who follow in their footsteps.
"Come to take the son of a bitch out for skewering?" Bronn asks, looking relived to see you as he releases the hilt of his sword for perhaps the first time since he has been put here.
"Ultimately yes, but first I will have some answers from him, one way or another," you answer, somewhat regretting the absence of the Seeker. Magic will have to serve his place, for all the thought of tethering your mind, however tenuously, to the figure that lies broken, blinded, and cursed on the floor disgusts you.
Thrice the shadows fly to bind him to your will and only upon the third time do they bind him even in his current sorry state. Only then do you remove his gag and begin to ask question after question, of things near and far, of the rot that infected the city most of all...
What you find is better than you had feared but worse than you had hoped. At least one of the higher-ranked among the cursed maegi scurried away in the attack, one Rohar, called the Proud for the sin he bore as a virtue. Bile and contempt mark the prisoner's words as he speaks of this other sorcerer, thinking him unworthy of the true gifts of Abaddon, for all a mage of the Fifth Circle is not to be discounted. Also likely fled from your snares are those among the Hungry Dead who made the passage from life retaining some vestige of their former selves, for they are cowards at heart and would not face a dragon's cleansing flame or an angel's righteous fury.
Not all news is grim, however, for your learn that no greater fiend was abroad and loose in Tyrosh beyond those you had already bound or banished. Some of the lesser soul harvesters may have escaped, but those are feeble things that even a warrior armed with common steel can face if his courage holds.
Having established what remains of the canker you ask whence and how it began, sifting through the memories of the man who was once Argor Voitare. That he was the first to drink from the black cup there is no doubt. Once he had been an ambitious younger son of a great Tyroshi family seeking to ascend in power through sorcery. Your stomach roils as he admits that tales of your own exploits played a part in his burgeoning fascination with the occult. The book that had started it all, the book that even now held the accursed mage's prayers to his foul patron, had been recovered from the dust-shrouded depths of the palace library, paid for in gold, in treachery and in blood...
As the journey had begun so too had it continued, from daemon to daemon, seeking knowledge, seeking power to fulfill wants and desires growing ever more profane until at last he found what he calls 'the truth', the truth of rot and decay, of service to a goddess whose name you heard years before, the Moon Pale Maiden, Death upon its pale steed. With death came pestilence, though Argor disdained those who offered their souls to this 'lesser ruin' and chaffed at the need for secrecy and slow decay, lest they draw the ire of other powers... which come to think of it was their fate in the end.
You wonder with a measure of cold satisfaction if somewhere within the cage you have made of his mind the damned maegi screams against the unraveling of his plots. With his unwilling aid the tiny golden servitor never far from your side sketches a map of the catacombs and all the hidden places known to the Priest of Ruin. Torn from his lips also are names of the living, the dead and black-hearted fiends in equal measure, names to sacrifice, to slay and, if you dare, to conjure by.
Gained Map of the Catacombs of Tyrosh
Gained list of Daemonic Names [Including all three of the Thanadaemons]
What do you do next?
[] Scry for Rohar before he finds his way beyond the reach of such magics
-[] Write in plans
[] Continue with the executions
[] Write in
OOC: Argor did not know much of the wider world beyond Tyrosh since the city was the seat of his obsession. Also yes in this setting the Horseman of Death is the Moon Pale Maiden, so instead of a new enemy that is just another name for the list you get an old one with a history attached. 
I remembered Abaddon as the name of an RL demon/dark angel from myth and assumed lol.
