Chapter 2 / Episode 49: The Troll Chief, Oohlgrist and the Room of Bones

 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

Crush the 1/2 Orc Fighter

NPCs:
Zert the Hero
Spugnior the Theurgist

Lita of the Fjord (Slash's Groupie)

Coldeven 14 - Early

Description: Freezing

Temperature: 13.3°F to 37.4°F

Wind: Gentle breeze (S)(8-12 MPH | 7-10 KN)

Precipitation: None

Clouds: Mostly cloudy

Chapter 2 / Episode 49: The Troll Chief, Oohlgrist, and the Room of Bones

The oppressive chill of Coldeven crept through the ancient halls of the Temple of Elemental Evil. Even in the depths, the air felt like ice on the skin. Every footstep echoed ominously, muffled only slightly by the layers of dust and grime coating the floor. Shadows flickered along the walls, stretching and warping in the dim light cast by the adventurers' flickering torches.

Oleg led the group cautiously forward, his eyes scanning for hidden dangers as he crept toward a set of double doors at the far end of a long, bone-strewn hall. The stench of decay was nearly overwhelming, and the air hung thick with a palpable sense of evil, almost like a living thing pressing against their skin.

“Be ready,” Oleg whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft crunch of bones beneath his boots. He stopped at the double doors, examining them with care. "It looks clear..."

The others lingered near the doorway, weapons drawn, eyes darting toward the grotesque displays along the walls—shelves made of bones, skulls leering at them from every angle. The Room of Bones was a testament to past horrors, each fragment a reminder of the countless lives lost in the dark service of the temple.

As Oleg pressed his hands to the doors, the trap sprang to life with a sudden clang of metal and stone. The double doors slammed shut behind him, sealing him inside.

“OLEG!” shouted Dog, rushing to the door and slamming his shoulder into it, but it refused to budge.

From the pile of rugs and torn fabric, something huge stirred. A massive troll, its mottled green skin glistening in the torchlight, rose to its full, terrible height. Its eyes burned with savage hunger as it fixed its gaze on the trapped thief.

“I’ve been waiting for fresh meat,” it snarled in guttural Common, its lips curling back to reveal jagged yellow teeth. Oohlgrist, the Troll Chief, had made this macabre throne room his lair.

Oleg barely had time to react. He drew his wand, spraying the beast with burning hands, but the troll’s massive claws caught him across the chest, rending armor and flesh alike. Blood sprayed across the bone-covered floor as Oleg crumpled to the ground, motionless.

“GET THE DOORS OPEN!” TerryOr shouted, his mace raised high as he threw his weight against the door, panic creeping into his voice.

Dixon and Crush joined him, their combined strength finally forcing the doors open with a tortured screech of stone and iron. The group surged into the room, but it was too late for Oleg. His lifeless body lay in a growing pool of blood.

Oohlgrist let out a bellowing roar, raising his bloodied claws in challenge. From the shadows, another troll appeared, its eyes wild with battle lust, charging into the fray.

The Battle

The room erupted into chaos.

Dog fired an enchanted arrow, the glowing projectile streaking through the air and striking Oohlgrist in the shoulder, but the troll barely flinched.

Dixon and Crush charged the troll, meeting it head-on in a brutal clash of steel and muscle. Dixon’s warhammer connected with a sickening crunch, breaking the troll’s jaw, but the creature retaliated with terrifying speed, its claws raking across Dixon’s armor. Crush roared and swung his sword in a savage arc, driving the beast back.

Spugnior stood at the rear, watching the chaos unfold. His eyes darted between the combatants, calculating every move. He raised a hand, but no spell left his lips—he knew this fight required brute force, not magic. Instead, he shouted to Zert.

“Strike low—cut its legs out from under it!”

Zert, his face grim, nodded and circled the troll, slashing at its knees with deadly precision.

With a battle cry, Slash cast faerie fire then swung his longsword, the blade biting deep into the troll’s side. Oohlgrist howled in rage and lashed out with a backhanded strike, sending Slash stumbling backward.

“Lita! The song—keep playing!” Slash gasped, struggling to regain his footing.

Lita’s fingers danced across her instrument, her melody rising in intensity. The haunting tune seemed to fill the room, giving strength to her allies and sowing confusion in the trolls.

With renewed focus, Dog fired another arrow, this time striking Oohlgrist in the throat. The troll staggered, clutching at the wound, black ichor pouring from between its fingers. Irving seized the opportunity, his eyes blazing with righteous fury.

“For Oleg!” he cried, driving his sword into the troll’s chest, piercing its black heart. Oohlgrist let out a final, shuddering growl before collapsing to the floor in a heap of twitching limbs.

The second troll, badly wounded and outnumbered, tried to flee, but Dixon and Crush gave it no chance. With a final, brutal strike, Crush brought his axe down, severing the creature’s head from its shoulders.

Aftermath

Silence fell over the room once more, broken only by the labored breathing of the adventurers. Blood soaked the floor, mingling with the foul refuse of the troll’s lair.

TerryOr knelt beside Oleg’s lifeless body, his expression grim. He drew forth a necklace of prayer beads found on the troll chiefs pouch, the faint glow of divine power surrounding them. His hand trembled as he clutched the beads, his mind racing.

“I can summon St. Cuthbert,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I can ask for Oleg’s soul to be returned... but the cost will be great.”

The others exchanged wary glances, the weight of the decision pressing down on them. In the depths of the temple, where shadows whispered of ancient evils, such power was never freely given.

TerryOr closed his eyes, his thoughts turning inward, and the room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting his choice.

Troll chief: AC 2, MV 9", HD 6 + 6, hp 50, #AT 3, D 6-9/6-9/4-14, SA attacks as if 10 HD, SD regenerates (3 hp per round starting 3 rounds after being damaged), wears ring of fire resistance; XP 1050

Troll: AC 4, MV 12", HD 6 + 6, hp 40, #AT 3, D 5-8/5-8/2-12, SA fauchard-fork (range 12', D 3-10), SD regenerates (3 hp per round starting 3 rounds after being damaged); XP 845

Treasure:

ring of fire resistance

a necklace of gold with four small rubies given to him by the priests of the Fire Temple (jewelry value 4,750 gp), and a jeweled belt given him by the priests of the Water Temple (silver with four nice emeralds, jewelry value 5, 250 gp).

Necklace of Prayer Beads

Total: 3,579 XP each