Chapter 2 / Episode 59 - Chaining of the Temple

Coldeven 16 - 17, 576 CY — Noon 

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

Slash the Bard

Muspell Heavyhand, Deep Gnome Illusionist

NPCs: 

Spugnior the Theurgist

Lita of the Fjord (Slash's Groupie and companion / Level 2 Bard)

The lightless passage up to the surface broke as Prince Thrommel crossed the temple threshold. Color returned to his cheeks. With a whistle, his great white steed galloped from the trees. “I return to Furyondy,” he said, mounting. “And I shall not forget this.” He vanished into the mist.

The company descended once more. Inside the shattered vestry, Muspell clambered up the rafters to retrieve a pristine robe, red and blue, its thread woven with malignant intent.

Deeper still, they reached the grand staircase and its throne of judgment. Above loomed an invisible wall of power. Not even TerryOr’s ring could pierce it. They bound the final great doors with the divine chain—silver glyphs glowing faintly. Three down. One to go.

After a night of rest in the bandit tower, they plotted how to confront the last threat—four towering earth elementals standing guard. They spoke of desecrating the brazier, dragging it down with ropes, earning divine favor with bold irreverence.

They returned below, careful in their steps, avoiding the screeching stirges and dark pools.

In Room 134, they made short work of four guards—until reinforcements from Room 135 burst forth. Spells flew. TerryOr's Hold Person locked three in place. The others fell to sword and spell. Irving, eyes burning with zeal, made the captives kneel and touch his holy mace. “Swear to St. Cuthbert or be unmade.” They swore. The old cloaks were torn, trampled, burned.

Room by room, the party pushed on—collecting potions, scrolls, magical armor, and a nugget of pure gold.

Then, Room 145. The heart of the elemental menace.

TerryOr, cloaked in Sanctuary and Protection from Evil, stepped alone into the massive chamber. Earth trembled. The elementals stirred—but did not strike. Like sentinels bound by divine law, they watched him approach the runed doors. With trembling hands, he affixed the last chain, sealing the way forever.

A shudder passed through the temple. The fetid wind stilled. The demon’s prison was now locked.

Exhausted but triumphant, the group gathered in silence. Their work was done. The Temple was chained. But the darkness they had disturbed was not gone. Only waiting.

The next chapter looms.