Chapter 2 / Episode 47: The South Dungeon and Temple Recruits
Coldeven 13, 576 CY - Late Afternoon
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 (absent)
NPCs:
Zert the Hero
Spugnior the Theurgist
Lita of the Fjord (Slash's Groupie) (absent)
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
The oppressive chill of the dungeon seeped through their boots as the group pressed deeper into the twisted halls. Each step stirred faint echoes, as though the ancient stones themselves lamented the horrors they had borne witness to. The air hung heavily, stench of damp rot and faint sulfur clawing at their senses of party. Determination mingled with a quiet dread as the adventurers moved southward, leaving the ominous earth temple behind them.
The Library
The party entered the remnants of a once-grand library, its potential treasures lost to fire and chaos. The acrid smell of charred wood mixed with the omnipresent dampness, and broken shelves jutted from the walls like skeletal fingers. Scraps of scrolls and books littered the floor, scattered among smashed furniture. Spugnior knelt, sifting through the wreckage with a practiced eye.
“These writings... they’re steeped in the ethos of Chaotic Evil,” he murmured, translating fragments aloud. “Deceit, treachery... and here, a mention of the sacred earth triangle and the ‘trial of earthy terrors.’” He paused, frowning. “It says the trial awaits ‘below or elsewhere.’ Cryptic, but undoubtedly dangerous.”
Dog leaned on his bow, scanning the shadows. “Dangerous is why we’re here, right? If we don’t stop whatever festers in this place, no one will.”
Dixon grunted, hefting his axe. “Let’s hope it’s something we can cleave through when the time comes.”
With nothing else to be gleaned, they moved on, their resolve hardening.
Corridor of Bones
The next corridor stretched before them like a grotesque battlefield frozen in time. Bones—thousands of them—carpeted the floor. Some were loose, gnawed by unknown predators, while others lay locked in their death poses, armor sundered and weapons broken.
Irving, his brow furrowed, whispered a prayer to St. Cuthbert. “A slaughter. So many souls lost to this evil.”
TerryOr crossed himself. “Their spirits cry for vengeance, Paladin. We must not falter.”
Dixon scanned the piles warily. “I don’t like it. Feels like something’s watching, waiting for us to set foot in there.”
The group hesitated, weighing their options. The corridor loomed, a silent reminder of the carnage this place was capable of. For now, they chose another route, leaving the corridor undisturbed.
Room with the Trapezoidal Annex
Dog opened the door, and a javelin of lightning crackled through the air, slamming into the group with a deafening crack. The room exploded into chaos as eleven guards and fighters rushed forward, weapons drawn.
“Hold the line!” Irving bellowed, his sword flashing as he stepped into the fray.
Oleg, sleep spell, muttered an incantation and unleashed its magic. Several of the attackers slumped to the ground, unconscious, as the spell took hold.
Dixon roared, his axe cleaving through a guard’s shield and armor with brutal efficiency. Blood sprayed as the dwarf pushed forward, carving a path toward the leader.
TerryOr stood beside Irving, his mace glowing faintly as he swung with divine purpose. “By St. Cuthbert, you’ll find no sanctuary here!”
Despite their efforts, Irving fell to his knees, the battle taking its toll. Dog dragged him back, pouring a healing potion down the paladin’s throat just in time.
The fight ended with the guards either dead or incapacitated. The group, battered and bloodied, regrouped.
“Are we even halfway through this place?” Dog asked, wiping blood from his cheek.
“No,” Spugnior said grimly. “And it’s only going to get worse.”
Guardroom
The guardroom offered little respite. The remnants of daily life were strewn about—dominoes, cloaks, watered wine—but nothing of value. The party moved on quickly, wary of wasting time.
Reception Room
The group pushed into the next room, where a bugbear and seven gnolls awaited them. The creatures snarled, weapons at the ready.
“Not another word,” Dixon muttered. “Let’s do this.”
The ensuing fight was brutal. Dog picked off gnolls from a distance, arrows finding weak points in their patchwork armor.
Irving, still weak but undeterred, stepped up to face the bugbear. Their clash was fierce, the room echoing with the sound of steel on steel. The bugbear roared, swinging a massive battle ax, but Irving dodged and drove his blade into the beast’s side.
When the dust settled, the room was silent save for the labored breathing of the party.
The Dilemma
The adventurers gathered in the aftermath, exhaustion written on their faces. Supplies were running low, and the weight of the dungeon pressed heavily on their spirits.
“We can’t keep pushing like this,” TerryOr said. “We’re spent.”
“We go back to town, we lose valuable time,” Dog countered. “Who knows what they could accomplish while we’re gone?”
Irving leaned on his sword, his voice steady despite his weariness. “We press on. Rest when we must, but we don’t abandon this fight.”
The group nodded, their determination outweighing their fear. The dungeon still held its secrets, and they would uncover them—or die trying.
Monsters:
Treasure:
XP: 330 Each
To be continued...
Survey Says? We going back to town!
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