The Second Battle of the Main Gate

The morning dawns cool and clammy. A light shower in the middle of the night left moisture covering the windowsills, the walkways, and the bushes outside the inn. It marks the beginning of a miserable day, which suits the heroes well after having spent a miserable night watching for another assassination that never happened.

Aldoroc carries the chamber pot with the elf head to the innkeeper. “Here you go, Tony.” He hands the innkeeper a leather pouch filled with coins and a couple gems. “Take care of this for me, will you? Thanks.”

Sylvan finishes studying his spellbook as his comrades prepare to leave the big city. Sylvan teleports with Kale, Aldoroc, and Lenny to Hommlet. They meet with some of the town’s residents, in particular visiting with their old friend Spugnoir. Kale buys a few potions and Sylvan borrows the potion seller’s lab to make a cloak of resistance for a customer. The next day, Sylvan teleports back to Khorasan alone and brings the remaining party members to Rastor, with Verilia reducing her animal companion as usual.

They spend a day in Rastor and the following day Sylvan picks up the others from Hommlet. Lenny immediately sets to work preparing dinner for everyone, including Rerrid Hammersong, the dwarven paladin Lord Jengol, and others. He recruits a couple of helpers from the townspeople and they setup a kitchen outside the Temple to Moradin. Most importantly, Lenny has one of the dwarven smiths construct a number of kettles for the brewery and the up-and-coming master cook starts brewing some fine ale.

The night passes peacefully for the invigorated hamlet of Rastor, no longer such a wretched hive of scum and villainy. Unfortunately, it passes restlessly for the heroes, especially Aldoroc, who dreams of rapiers piercing his vital organs. In the morning, the group prepares for another assault on the insane cultists. They gather their gear, have a quick breakfast, prepare spells, and journey by foot to the main entrance on the west side of the Mt. Stalagos.

Cresting a short hill, the heroes come into view of the path up to the main entrance and, more importantly, a fight between dragons. Vranthis sits at one end of the clearing in the grass. The large green dragon, recently a member of the Air Temple, has already established contact with the party. After initially fleeing from them and then negotiating the return of a couple of his items, he met them again after the fall of the Water Temple, killing the two fire mephits and destroying the Water Temple platform.

At the other end of the cleared area sits Krystaf, the large white dragon who promised a reward for the head of Vranthis, his rival and archenemy. Six human warriors and a human cleric nervously flank Vranthis. It is obvious that blood will be shed today, it’s just a question of whose and how much.

Krystaf growls at the big green, snarling in draconic, “You have lived long enough, lizard. Today you will die and I will feast on your entrails.”

Vranthis snickers, and the sound rumbles out of his throat like a bellows. “Krystaf, you would have difficulty killing these human vermin I have as guards. Your breath weapon is so weak, you could not freeze a chicken. No wonder Chymon left you for me, she was afraid of enduring ridicule at the enclave.” Vranthis glances over at the approaching heroes. “Indeed, I’m surprised she let you live.”

The white dragon notices the glance and looks over at the heroes as well. Enraged as he was, and concentrating on the big green, he would not have detected their approach. He lets out a small shower of wispy air, like ice boiling, and grips the icy ground in his powerful claws. “Welcome, my friends. Help me as you promised and your reward will be great.”

Vranthis appears startled at this comment and growls at the adventurers, “The Temple of All Consumption is still powerful. Join with me to defeat this pest and you will have the gratitude of the Air Temple. I’m sure Fachish will have suitable reward and then we will help you have revenge against the Fire Temple!”

The heroes discuss amongst themselves which dragon to help, but are interrupted as combat erupts. The white dragon gets the jump on his opponents and launches into the air, breathing a cone of frigid air, ice, and snow at Vranthis and his guards. All of the guards except the cleric drop to the ice-covered ground, dead or unconscious. Krystaf cackles with glee until the frosty green dragon breaths acid back at the white dragon.

Verilia decides to join the combat, not deciding yet who to help, by creating a thunderstorm over the entire field with control winds. She then casts call lightning storm and drops the first of many lightning bolts into Vranthis. The little druid’s new power stuns the rest of the group. The nearly hurricane force winds buffet the dragons, forcing them to fly higher and out of the area. Strangely, the winds move upwards and keep both creatures from landing. The cleric amazingly makes his way out of the area and flees to the south, presumably back to the South Gate and the safety of the Air Temple.

The dragons lock in aerial combat a few times, with Vranthis clearly the dominant fighter. However, with the help of the heroes, Vranthis is killed before he can escape again. Krystaf is wounded and the heroes strongly consider ending his threat as well. A bargain is a bargain, though, and Shangor and Verilia demand the reward.

Despite his chaotic nature, Krystaf flies away and returns within half an hour with a leather-wrapped bundle. He drops it on the ground and then gnaws off Vranthis’s head. Clutching the head in his foreclaws, Krystaf says, “So our bargain has ended. Your help this day has been appreciated. Should you meet with Chymon, give her my love.” He then jumps into the air and flies off to the north, over the mountains.

Aramil scowls at the white, and then walks over to the bundle. Verilia and Sylvan loot the frozen bodies on the ground. Unwrapping the bundle, Aramil uncovers a gleaming two-handed sword. A masterwork adamantine blade lies engraved with runes, with a hilt of ivory and jewels. He picks it up reverently, only to drop it again reflexively as he feels the weight of the weapon draw upon is chaotic life force.

Kale, not of the same ilk as the dragon disciple, picks up the weapon instead, with no ill effect.

Hello, brave warrior. My name is Fragarach. A voice speaks into his mind. Strangely, Kale is not afraid of the contact.

Kale attempts to communicate with it as well, thinking his words. Hello, Fragarach.

Kale feels the mighty weapon probe him and all of the party for that matter. As this occurs, Fragarach imparts its findings to the archer, revealing the moral and ethical alignments of his friends, whether they are good and lawful. Only Shangor follows both paths.

The sword seems…disappointed. It telepathically communicates with the dwarven cleric, only to find that the dwarf does not wish to wield a two-handed sword. It reluctantly remains in the possession of Kale, who promises to use Fragarach in the fight against evil. Fragarach imparts all of its abilities to the ranger, including its history its work in the hands of the great Prince Thrommel, mighty paladin of Pelor, and hero of the Battle of Emridy Meadows.

Kale says, “Don’t worry, we’ll return you to the Emperor.”

The sword cries out in alarm, in common, “No! Whatever you do, don’t put me on a shelf! I’d rather be wielded in your incompetent hands than sit unused on a shelf! My place is fighting evil, so onward!”

Kale shrugs and puts Fragarach in its sheath.

The Third Battle of the Main Gate

A short, but difficult trek up the mountain side leads to a switchback and then the closed doors of the main gate. Kale, leading the way, looks over his shoulder at his companions. “Did we leave the door closed last time?”

Aldoroc shrugs as a brief discussion ensues. “Dunno, Kale. Let me open them, though.” The burly fighter steps forward and wrenches open the massive doors. “I don’t see anything in here. Kale, lend me one of those light coin thingies, and I’ll go check things out.”

The ranger passes over a coin as asked, and Aldoroc walks brazenly into the intersection of the two hallways. From the northern hallway, an unarmed gnoll is walking with a small, grayish dog with long tentacles. Before Aldoroc can react, the rust monster charges him and hits his magical shield with a tentacle. With a cry of anguish, the creature drains the magical energy from the powerful shield and then absorbs its metallic components, reducing everything except for the straps to a sprinkling of reddish brown rust.

Aldoroc appears really frightened for the first time. Even as he was killed by the skeletal howler in the Earth Temple, he had never truly felt fear. Knowing that your opponent likes to eat your equipment is Aldoroc’s real fear. He dares not draw out his holy battleaxe and instead backs away.

As the remaining heroes enter the hallway to help the warrior, two more rust monsters enter the intersection, coupled with gnolls, and a number of guards take up archer positions behind them. One of the rust monsters takes a swipe at Kale’s chain shirt of invulnerability, but the ranger barely dodges out of the way. Aramil, Verilia, and Summer block further pursuit of their armored companions as the main double doors opposite the entrance opens up and Marlgran and Rusty appear.

Shangor, feeling almost as frightened as Aldoroc, stands at the rear of the party protecting his dwarven plate. Instead of moving forward, he drops a stone spikes spell in the eastern hallway, slowing down the ettin and his rust monster. Aramil polymorphs into a gold dragon wyrmling and claws ferociously at the creatures, injuring them almost as badly as Summer and Verilia, who has wildshaped into a brown bear. Sylvan launches spells from right behind their ranks, pummeling the ettin and some of the rust monsters with magic missiles and a slow spell.

The rest of the combat is quick and bloody once the rust monsters no longer have targets. Marlgran is given no quarter. Two of the human guards are revived and sent on their way, stripped of weapons and equipment. Aldoroc, Kale, and Shangor all breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Shangor says a quick prayer to Moradin and touches his plate mail reverently.

The Return to the Northern Bridge Complex

After gathering what little loot they find, the heroes continue to the north on their return journey to the Northern Bridge Complex. It has only been a few days, but they need to check up Kadiss and his troops after finding that elven head in the chamber pot. First, they must pass through the Earth Temple, but Aramil notices that the drum is missing. Indeed, some of the big altar room appears cleaned up. Aldoroc shrugs and leads them past it though and to the right, avoiding the rooms with the master dire ape.

Just outside the Earth Temple altar room, Sylvan and Aramil are attacked at the rear of the group. A troglodyte appears out of nowhere and stabs Aramil in the side with a short sword. A xorn appears on the other side of the two mages and attacks Sylvan, biting him something fierce.

The tight quarters in the passageway keep Aldoroc and Shangor from helping, so they remain at the front of the party on the lookout for additional foes. Riding Summer, Verilia has no room to maneuver, particularly when Kale tumbles underneath the tigers legs and takes on the xorn in hand-to-maw combat.

Aramil tries to communicate with the troglodyte, but its stench nearly doubles him over. This creature is particularly foul, even for a troglodyte. “Why are you…cough, cough…”

The troglodyte chuckles evilly. It speaks a very guttural and rough voice, like uncut granite rubbing together. “Pathetic elf. You have destroyed the remnants of my temple, but you have not dealt with me, its strongest member. I, Reokallitan, will reclaim the power of the Earth Temple and rebuild it from your soulless bodies.”

Verilia casts call lightning and tries to target cleric, but he evades the bolt. “Blasted rogues! Filthy troglodytes! You’ll all die if I have anything to say about it!”

Her next bolt hits the xorn, which subsequently slides back into the rock and pops up behind Shangor. After a quick beating from the powerful duo, it escapes again to reappear behind Reokallitan. The troglodyte meanwhile evades a fireball from Aramil. Aramil nonchalantly shrugs and then casts magic missile and says, in draconic, “Dodge this.” A couple more spells from Aramil and Sylvan, a failed evasion from another lightning bolt ends the troglodyte’s threat. The xorn lasts little longer, particularly as Kale unloads a few arrows into it at point blank range.

Verilia says, “I hope that's the last of the troglodytes.” They quickly loot the smelly reptilian humanoid, tossing aside most of its equipment. Expecting the air bridge to be the site of a massacre, they are pleasantly surprised to find it still inhabited by their guards. Kadiss welcomes them ‘home’ and offers to have one of the guards cook them some lunch. Kadiss then tells them that one of the elves walked down the bridge and entered the Outer Fane, for no apparent reason. The door opened automatically or by someone on the other side and he was welcome into the embrace of a tall, dark, and shadowed humanoid figure.

Three days ago…

Ghorinthe stands up from the table, swaying slightly, and lifts his mug to his lips. After one last swallow, he belches loudly and proclaims, “I’m taking a leak.”

The other two elves chuckle, but quickly get back to the dice game. Ghorinthe sways slightly as he walks to the latrine down the hallway near the three-headed beast. He passes the human guards, nodding politely, and looks out of the double doors. The full moon shines down on the Stalagos and illuminates an open door at the other end of the bridge.

This is unusual, the alcohol-impaired elf thinks to himself. The ale befuddles his senses so he squints towards the door to the Outer Fane. He has never been into the center of the crater and has only heard stories about it, never even from firsthand knowledge. His curiosity piqued, Ghorinthe treads cautiously past the sleeping chimera to stand on the bridge and get a closer look.

A tall humanoid figures steps into view, hooded and still heavily shadowed. A moment later he disappears and a mist coalesces in front of the guard into the same humanoid shape. The tall figure pulls down his hood, revealing a very handsome and pale human face. His brown hair and beard are trimmed neatly and close. His sharp eyes almost gleam a bright red over his high, regal cheek bones. Heavy armor drapes over his powerful frame and a greatsword hums quietly at his side, shedding an almost imperceptible violet radiance.

When the figure smiles, Ghorinthe can no longer look away. Impossibly sharp and protruding stark white fangs glisten in the moonlight as the guard’s will is lost within the vampire’s mind. Ghorinthe’s arms drop to his sides as the automaton meanders along the bridge towards the Outer Fane, accompanied by the tall figure. Halfway there the figure transforms into mist and swirls through the doorway. The guard follows, not even allowed the dignity to scream when the torturing starts.