Players:
Dog the Ranger of the Gnarley (Forest)
Irving the Reluctant (Paladin of St. Cuthbert)
TerryOr the Cleric of St. Cuthbert
Dixon the Dwarven Fighter
Oleg the Half-Elf Magic-User/Thief
Slash the Bard
NPCs:
Zert the Hero
Spugnior the Theurgist
Lita of the Fjord (Slash's Groupie)
Description: Freezing
Temperature: 13.9°F to 33.8°F
Wind: Moderate breeze (SW)(13-18 MPH | 11-16 KN)
Precipitation: None
Clouds: Mostly cloudy
Chapter 2 / Episode 46: The Earth Temple
Coldeven 13, 576 CY – Afternoon
The cold wind howled outside as the adventurers worked swiftly to conceal their hard-earned treasure. Dixon and Dog took a moment to check on the horses, ensuring their survival in the bitter chill, while the rest of the group secreted the chests away in the ruined bandit tower. With their loot hidden, they descended once more into the darkness, where the horrors of the Temple of Elemental Evil awaited.
The Sealed Crypt
The torches flickered as the group moved cautiously down the dimly lit corridor. The oppressive silence was broken only by the soft echoes of their own footfalls against the cold stone. Dog led the way, his ranger’s instincts alert to every shadow and whisper of air.
They reached a bronze door, its surface etched with strange runes. Oleg’s keen eyes studied the inscriptions, tracing the ancient script with a practiced hand. "Looks like some sort of identification... maybe a warning," he muttered.
A sudden flare of magical energy burst forth, engulfing the corridor in searing fire. The explosion rocked the hall, sending Oleg and Dog sprawling. Smoke and the acrid scent of burnt cloth filled the air. When the dust settled, their gear lay in smoldering ruin.
TerryOr rushed forward, murmuring prayers as he knelt beside Oleg. "Blessed be the Cudgel, you’re lucky to be alive," he said, helping him to his feet.
Dog, coughing through the smoke, glared at the door. "If there’s a way in, there’s a way past," he growled.
Spugnior stepped forward, brushing soot from his robes. With a word of power, he cast Knock. A deafening snap rang through the dungeon as every door in the depths shuddered open in unison.
Beyond the ruined threshold lay a crypt of jagged stone. Dust swirled in the air, disturbed by their arrival. The burial alcoves were lined with eleven bodies—long-dead clerics of the Earth Temple, their skeletal remains still adorned with bronze rings set with jet. TerryOr murmured a solemn blessing, sprinkling holy water over the remains.
As they explored, Slash’s keen eyes found something more—a cloak, still intact, shimmering faintly with protective magic. He swung it over his shoulders with a grin. "I always did have a taste for fine garments," he quipped, striking a dramatic pose.
But their time in the crypt came at a cost. As they left, a persistent cough took hold of Dog, Slash, and Irving—a sickness clinging to their lungs like dust from the grave.
Ruined Storeroom and the Profane Retreat
The next chamber was a wasteland of shattered glass and broken pottery, its shelves long since plundered. The remnants of strange powders and herbs coated the floor in a thin, multicolored layer of dust.
Oleg sifted through the wreckage, pulling free a stoppered vial of sparkling red powder. He held it up to the dim torchlight. "Ground ruby. Worth a king’s ransom."
Dixon snorted. "If we get out of here alive."
Among the debris, they gathered amber rods and a small bottle of sulfur. The once-potent alchemical supplies had been left to decay, but their value remained.
The next chamber unsettled them all. The walls were adorned with grotesque murals, depicting the depravity of those who had once knelt before the Earth Temple’s unholy altars. A massive, glaring eye was painted on the ceiling, its gaze unrelenting. The furniture, though worn, suggested that this room had not been abandoned entirely.
"This place is still used," TerryOr muttered, gripping his holy symbol.
But there was nothing left to find—only the lingering weight of centuries of foul worship. They moved on.
The Earth Temple
The corridor led to a vast chamber, the air thick with an unsettling stillness. The walls, rough-hewn sandstone, seemed to pulse with an eerie phosphorescence from the lichen growing along their surface.
The floor was not stone but soil—dark, rich earth packed unnaturally hard. At its center stood a pyramid of dirt, with stone steps leading to the summit where a carved pillar loomed. Bronze manacles hung from its surface, not rusted with age but still foreboding. A bronze box rested at its base, silent and waiting.
Three doors lined the southern wall, but the central one was sealed with silver runes, their glow defying the darkness. Someone—something—had gone to great lengths to keep that portal shut.
Their moment of contemplation was shattered by movement in the shadows. The earth trembled.
From the very floor itself, massive forms emerged. Towering, faceless hulks of stone and dirt—four massive earth elementals—rose with a grinding roar, blocking their advance.
Oleg wasted no time. Raising his wand, he unleashed two scorching fireballs. The blasts detonated with a thunderous boom, heat washing over the party. But when the flames dissipated, the elementals still stood, unfazed, their forms absorbing the fire like dry soil drinking water.
Slash, undeterred, called upon his newfound power, raising his ring of shooting stars. Sparks flared into dazzling streaks of blue light, streaking toward the monstrous guardians—only for them to vanish upon impact, swallowed by the elementals’ bodies as if they had never existed.
"They don’t leave the chamber," Irving observed, shield raised. "They are bound to it, guarding something."
Dog wiped his brow, still sweating from the lingering heat of the fireball. "Then the question is—what are they guarding?"
Silence filled the chamber as the adventurers stood before the slumbering power of Elemental Earth, uncertainty clawing at their resolve.
To be continued…
Treasure:
A bag containing 4 amber rods (worth 25 gp each)
A small bottle of yellow powder (pure sulfur, worth 40 gp)
XP: 591 each
