Whether mercenaries or adventurers, most people who lived by the blade dreamed of striking it rich overnight through a single adventure or battle.
And Tristana's promises-noble protection, a ladder to power-opened a path of advancement these lowly warriors had never dared to dream of.
Renato had little faith in the young cleric's verbal promises. Becoming a Priestess of Lolth was no simple matter. It required years of study and brutal selection, and the chances of a common-born warrior working her way into Arachne and successfully graduating were vanishingly small.
But through her patient persuasion, Tristana had successfully roused the morale of the Iron Price mercenaries.
The flames of ambition drove them to follow the Nightwind Family's youngest daughter to the bitter end.
Renato swept his gaze over the crowd and saw Raven helplessly covering her face.
He understood the feeling. Very few people could accurately judge their own abilities, and after investing so much, those who could still rationally cut their losses were rarer still.
The battle against the Swamp Sisters and Ghaunadaur's clerics had made everyone aware that more danger lay ahead. But these mercenaries were gambling-gambling that luck would favor them, that they would survive to become guards of the Nightwind Family and rise above their station.
After a token discussion of payment, Tristana waved her hand and promised to divide the spoils equally after the battle, with additional rewards for those who fought bravely.
Raven sighed and called several mercenaries with only minor injuries over to the stone door.
They braced themselves against its edge and pushed together.
The stone lock on the hinge snapped. The sagging door scraped against the floor, and rubble and dust showered down from the top of the frame.
The heart of the Mud Swamp Sisterhood's stronghold lay exposed before them.