Coldeven 13, 576 CY
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
NPCs:
- Zert the Hero
- Spugnior the Theurgist
- Lita of the Fjord (Slash's Groupie)
Chapter 2 / Episode 45: Into the Temple of Elemental Evil
Slash the Bard, looking invigorated despite the oppressive chill, introduced the group to Lita of the Fjord, a spirited young woman who had pledged herself to his cause. “She may not yet wield steel,” Slash assured, “but her courage outmatches many a soldier I’ve met.” Lita smiled nervously, clutching a small dagger, her resolve tempered by the knowledge of what lay ahead.
The group marched resolutely to the temple's front entrance. The massive bronze doors loomed, their surfaces etched with ominous runes glowing with a silvery, burning radiance. As Spugnior approached to study the glyphs, his eyes teared involuntarily. "A ward of unimaginable power," he whispered. TerryOr joined him, murmuring prayers to St. Cuthbert for insight. Together, they deciphered the arcane protections, only to realize that even if the seals could be undone, it would take precious hours to do so.
The Desecrated Main Hall
The heavy doors creaked open, revealing the main chamber of the temple. A wave of nausea struck the party as they stepped inside. The reddish-brown stone floor seemed to drink in the dim light filtering through the stained-glass windows, their warped panes casting sickly hues across the grotesque murals on the walls.
“These images…” Irving muttered, his hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of his sword. The scenes were vile—depictions of torture, murder, and perversions that defied description. Evil was not just honored here; it was exalted.
"Every stone in this place cries out with hatred," Dixon growled, his dwarven senses keenly attuned to the malevolence embedded in the structure. The pinkish pillars shot through with worm-colored veins seemed to pulsate faintly, as if alive.
Lita clung to Slash's side, her courage visibly faltering. "What could drive men to create such a place?" she whispered.
Slash laid a hand on her shoulder. “Evil always seeks to leave its mark, Lita. But remember—we are here to cleanse it.”
The East Vestry
Navigating cautiously through the main hall, the group discovered the shattered remnants of the east vestry. Broken altar pieces and scorched green robes lay strewn across the floor, their former purpose long forgotten. A battered wardrobe leaned precariously in the corner, its doors torn asunder.
“This place reeks of desperation,” Spugnior observed, kneeling to inspect the debris. His hand brushed against a scorched fragment of a holy symbol, and he frowned. “A trident… perhaps a relic of the sea cult that once served here.”
"Focus," TerryOr interjected, pointing to the staircase descending into the gloom. “Whatever awaits below, we must face it together.”
Descending to Dungeon Level One
The narrow staircase spiraled downward, the stone walls slick with condensation. Sconces burned with an unnatural greenish flame, casting eerie shadows that danced and twisted. Each step seemed heavier than the last, as if the temple itself sought to sap their resolve.
They emerged into a series of twisting corridors, the oppressive atmosphere thickened by the stench of decay. Barely a hundred feet in, they encountered their first challenge—a group of ghouls lurking in a foul chamber. Oleg stepped forward, his hands weaving intricate patterns. “Stand clear!” he called, unleashing a fireball that erupted in a deafening roar. The ghouls were incinerated, their shrieks cut short as flames consumed them.
The Harpy's Den
The next chamber brought no relief. The reek of excrement hung heavy in the air, and the filthy floor was littered with bones and rotting refuse. As the party stepped inside, the harpies revealed themselves with a haunting, hypnotic song. One by one, the adventurers faltered—eyes glazing over as the monstrous sirens’ magic took hold.
All save one.
Irving the Reluctant, Paladin of St. Cuthbert, clenched his jaw as divine resolve coursed through his veins. His god’s blessing shielded him where others had fallen. Alone, he strode forward, his magic sword gleaming in the dim light. The harpies screeched in frustration as he swung with righteous fury, cutting them down one by one. Their wretched voices turned to shrieks of pain before they fell lifeless to the ground.
When the last harpy lay dead, the enchantment faded, and the party staggered, gasping as they regained their senses. TerryOr clutched his holy symbol, his face pale. “St. Cuthbert’s will is strong within you, Irving. We owe you our lives.”
The paladin sheathed his blade with a grim nod. “They sought to break our minds. But no foul song will drown out the justice of the Cudgel.”
A Series of Horrors
Room by room, the adventurers pressed on, each encounter reinforcing the temple's reputation as a bastion of unspeakable evil:
- Another ghoul-infested chamber was cleared with the light of TerryOr’s divine power, the creatures recoiling in terror as he invoked St. Cuthbert’s wrath.
- A room of ghasts, stinking of death and malice, was likewise subdued through TerryOr’s turning. Their guttural snarls faded into silence as they fled into the shadows.
- In a chamber littered with bones and refuse, they found a ring of shooting stars—a rare boon amidst the desolation.
The Augury Pool
The final room of the day held an ominous augury pool. The circular depression glowed faintly, its polished black stone reflecting the torchlight. Spugnior approached cautiously, muttering an incantation to decipher its purpose. The pool rippled unnaturally, and a voice echoed faintly within the chamber.
“Ask, and the stars will weep their secrets,” it intoned cryptically. Despite its allure, the group decided to leave its mysteries untouched for now.
As they returned to their makeshift camp, the adventurers carried with them a mixture of exhaustion and grim determination. Each vile room explored, each fiend defeated, brought them one step closer to their ultimate goal—but at a terrible cost to their spirits.
