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/Cleric of St. Cuthbert
Slash the Bard
Crush the 1/2 Orc Fighter - absent this session
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
The heavy silence that followed the battle with the gargoyles was short-lived. From the shadowed corridors, the priests of the Water Temple emerged—robes of deep blue, their symbols glistening with unholy power, and at their center stood Canon Belsornig, the High Priest.
With a raised hand, he began a chant, the air thick with unseen pressure, as his underpriests flanked him.
The Battle Begins
Before they could act, Oleg raised a hand, speaking arcane words—the familiar pulse of a sleep spell washed over the acolytes. Their chanting faltered, bodies swaying, and then they collapsed into a dreamless slumber.
Irving did not hesitate.
With his potion of heroism still coursing through his veins, the paladin charged, holy mace raised, bringing it down with righteous fury toward the High Priest.
Belsornig snarled, raising his staff to block, but the force of the blow drove him back.
Dixon’s hammer flew through the air, smashing against the priest’s chest, sending him reeling into the altar, gasping for breath.
Zert followed without hesitation, blade flashing as he lunged for an opening.
The Command of St. Cuthbert
TerryOr raised his symbol of St. Cuthbert, voice booming with divine authority—
“Disrobe.”
The command struck deep, and the High Priest’s hands trembled as he tore at his robes, his sacred vestments falling to the floor.
Exposed, vulnerable, Belsornig staggered, eyes wide with confusion—just as Slash unleashed a storm of searing energy from his Ring of Shooting Stars.
A blinding flash of arcane lightning ripped across the room, arcing into the High Priest, his flesh blistering, robes smoldering.
In moments, it was over.
Belsornig collapsed, his body charred, his reign ended.
Aftermath and Recovery
The adventurers stood among the fallen priests, their breaths heavy, the stench of ozone and burnt flesh hanging in the air.
With the temple’s leaders dead, they spent the next few hours ransacking the living quarters, uncovering hidden treasures, magical artifacts, and wealth hoarded in service to the Elemental Evil.
As the treasures were divided, a decision was made—the Water Temple was broken, and this place, for now, was theirs.
The chamber doors were barred, and the party, weary but victorious, settled in for the night.
Now do we go back to the Earth Elemental Room to try and take it?
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