Chapter 3 / Episode 7 - Bugbears in the Night

 Description: Cold
Temperature: 22.2°F to 47.3°F
Wind: Light air (E)(1-3 MPH | 1-3 KN)
Precipitation: None
Clouds: Clear

The Rod of Law

 From the stories of Slash the Bard

The Rod of Six Parts

Also called: The Rod of Law, The Unmaking Rod, The False Binding

Forged in ancient times to imprison the Elder Elemental God, the Rod of Six Parts is a legendary artifact of immense power. Though once believed to be a force of order, the deeper truth is far more troubling. In Hommlet Dark, it is a double-edged key—capable of containing elemental evil, but also of unlocking it entirely.

Each recovered segment pulses with dark energy and ancient runes, whispering to its bearer. When assembled, the Rod does not simply bind chaos—it draws it forth, tempting mortals to break the barrier between planes and summon what should remain buried in the void.

Its reputation as an object of Law is now tainted. In the right—or wrong—hands, the completed rod could be used to shatter the seals of the Abyss, unleashing the Elder Elemental Eye from its prison.

I'm Sorry Did We Interrupt The Human Sacrifice?

 I'm Sorry Did We Interrupt The Human Sacrifice?  Alternate Title:  Rods And Tentacles

What games are these Abbey Cultist up too?  First we fight the Sons of  Kyuss and then we run into more tentacles and another new type of undead.  Rods and Tentacles just the way we like it.  Spicy indeed!   

However, starting to worry about the Ranger carrying this bizarre contraption!  The more parts of the Rod we find the stronger it gets.  At some point it will take over his mind.  

Dixon Lumlir Dwarf of the Toy Makers Guild

Chapter 3 / Episode 6 - The Rod of Law

Players:
Dog, Ranger of the Gnarley Forest
Irving, the Reluctant, Paladin of St. Cuthbert
Dixon, Dwarven Fighter
Muspell Heavyhand, Gnome Illusionist
Slash the Bard
Oleg the half elven Cleric/Magic-User/Thief of St. Cuthbert
Tiger Wong, Kung-Fu Monk of the Eastern lands

Coldeven 21, 576 CY - Dusk

Weather:
Cold, clear skies. Temperature: 18.7°F to 47.6°F. Light breeze from the north.

 
Underground

The halls beneath the Abbey held the chill of old death, the kind that never leaves. The echoes of the battle with the Sons of Kyruss still hung in the air—rotting flesh smoldered faintly where radiant energy had done its work. The party advanced cautiously, torches flickering as they stepped into a 30-foot corridor carved from ancient stone. Dog and Slash led the way, blades drawn, boots silent.

“We press forward,” murmured Dog, eyes scanning the darkness. “There’s something… waiting.”
Down the passage, torchlight revealed widening stonework. Dog paused at a bend and placed an ear to the wall. Nothing—just the dull throb of unseen water.

They advanced, careful and ready, until a door with glowing glyphs halted them in their tracks. Fear, cold and primal, radiated from the runes. Irving faltered, breath shallow. Terry clutched his holy symbol, beads of sweat lining his brow.

“Fall back!” Dixon barked, hauling the stunned Irving away. “They're warded—blasted runes!”
Dog, normally unshakable, recoiled in a full panic. Slash caught him. “Easy, brother. It’s just a spell... it’ll pass.”

After Terry dispelled the glyphs, they opened the cursed door, revealing a chamber lit by eerie sconces. A pool of dark water dominated the center, and beyond it—an altar. A hooded figure stood beside a pale body laid upon the stone.

Without waiting, Irving surged around the northern rim of the pool, mace raised. Oleg’s voice cracked with a spell as a bolt of force leapt toward the figure. Dog fired an arrow, while Dixon, suspicious of illusion, hurled a hammer.

Then the pool stirred.

Massive, slithering tentacles erupted from the water, lashing out with horrifying speed. Tiger Wong's flying kick was caught mid-air, flung aside. Irving was wrapped and lifted. Dixon swung wildly, trying to sever the rubbery limbs.

“It’s not just a guardian,” Terry shouted, “It’s part of the temple itself!”

Tentacles tightened. Muspell cast a blur over Oleg, who dodged a strike. Terry raised a vial of holy water and whispered a prayer to St. Cuthbert. With a cry of divine wrath, he hurled it into the center of the pool.

The water hissed, bubbled—then boiled. Tentacles spasmed and writhed, then dropped lifeless into the pit. The figure at the altar vanished in a shimmer.

As silence fell, the torchlight flickered against a strange glint on the desecrated altar. Embedded in the stone were three metallic fragments—shaped like the pieces of a rod.

With reverence, Dog approached and placed the two pieces they carried alongside the third. The rods pulled together as if magnetized, fusing in a shimmer of arcane light.

“What is it doing?” whispered Slash.

Oleg flipped through an old passage in the Dungeon Master’s Guide he'd copied from Burne. “The Rod of Law,” he breathed. “But there’s more to this than we thought.”

Wounded but victorious, the group laid the body to rest with full rites. Dixon, bruised and bleeding, leaned on his hammer while Terry and Irving exhausted their last healing scrolls.

They would camp in the abbey ruins one more night. With three pieces of the Rod of Law now in their hands, the tide had shifted—but no one could say in which direction.

XP 1000

Dogs Song to Ehlonna

 Fairest of ladys- soft as the breeze

Watch o'r your faithful who watch o'r the trees

The evil and the wicked- oh come to me!

The Hands of Ehlonna will strike with great speed

The whole of the Gnarley our band has just freed

But the war is not won til the righteous stampedes

For now the dark clouds- fade and recede

But the land and her people are still in great need

So come all her children- gather around

We watch from the tree tops- down to the ground