The Return to the Water Temple

After a quiet night in the Northern Bridge Complex, the heroes prepare for the journey clockwise around the crater ridge mines. Despite the presence of Kadiss and the guards, they still feel the need to maintain their own watch, with Kale and Aldoroc sharing Oamarthis’s bed.

Crossing the sea hag’s pool takes a few minutes, but they make their way to the passage near the main Water Temple area, from where they heard calls for sanctuary during the previous battle. The curved hallway leads to a large chamber with a small pool in it, maybe five feet in diameter, blocking a dark passageway sloping down and out of sight. Verilia and Aramil step into the chamber first and are not surprised when a humanoid face pokes up out of the water, just that it’s attached to a snakelike body.

Beautiful, even if non-humanoid and tinged with greenish scales, she speaks in the common tongue. “Welcome back. I am happy that you have survived your battle with the Water Temple.”

Verilia responds, “Thanks, I think.”

The water naga looks at the halfling druid questioningly, “So, have you come to kill me now, too?”

Verilia thinks about the question for a moment, and then shakes her head. “That is not our plan, but should you pose a threat, we will not be merciful. What is your name?”

Sylvan interjects, “And tell us your connection with Kelashein and the Water Temple. As a water naga, I’m sure there was some…relationship.”

The water naga regards the adventurers as they enter her chamber, fully armed and prepared for battle. Aramil readies a false life before entering. “Very well. My name is Zeityan. It is true that I was associated with the Water Temple, but quite honestly I have more pressing concerns than its plight. I have no desire to maintain that association and I am happy to be done with it. The destruction of the kuo-toa and, indeed, the rest of the humanoids concerns me naught. I am more concerned with the rulers of the Outer Fane, the real rulers.” Gathering steam, the naga continues, “Two sorceresses by the names of Mhunaath and Yklah commonly take the form of nagas using polymorph spells. They control the inhabitants of the Outer Fane and deserve death, preferably a painful one.” She gazes intently at the heroes, studying each in turn. “If you promise to kill them, I will tell you all I know about the Temple of All Consumption.”

Aramil says, “We will kill them, of that you can be sure. But, they will have to wait until we clear out the mines. We cannot leave such a dangerous force behind us. Tell us what you know, however, and we will spare you.”

Zeityan appears both upset and mollified by this answer. “Well, I understand your concern, and I suppose I cannot encourage you to enter the Outer Fane immediately.” The heroes shake their heads. The naga then tells the heroes what she knows about the Doomdreamers and how they destroyed the dwarven clan who initially inhabited the mines. “One more thing,” she says, looking directly at the dwarven cleric of Moradin, “have you been to the old dwarven temple? You haven’t found it? Well, it should be well hidden, and very well protected. It is on the south west edge, between the Air Temple and the Fire Bridge. The Doomdreamers never thought it important and no one in the mines was ever strong enough to defile it. You may find additional answers about the plight of your ancestors from there.”

The naga bids the heroes farewell and good luck in the Outer Fane. She also informs them that the passageway behind her leads into the Underdark, like many other passages in the mines, and it would only lead the group astray, away from their purpose here in the Temple of All Consumption.

The adventurers head back into the Water Temple intending to find and kill the corrupted monitor, once and for all. Before entering the chamber, Verilia summons a large air elemental. The spellcasters prepare additional protective and contingency spells. Even Kale drinks a potion of blur. Shangor casts water walk on everyone, and Aldoroc is first to the platform.

A huge water elemental lifts out of the water, stretching ten to twelve feet in the air, and pummels the fighter ferociously and he moves past. Urlurg swims up behind him, fluidly stepping onto the platform and strikes Aldoroc on the back of the neck, stunning him momentarily and injuring him greatly.

Verilia and Summer move into position, attacking the monitor to little avail. The air elemental swoops down the water elemental, provoking an attack from the larger creature. Aramil envelops the water elemental with a fireball, this time hurting it. Apparently, it has no innate resistance and what protection it had before was given from Kelashein’s wand of resist energy. Sylvan drops a magic missile into Urlurg and Kale pulls out his magical longbow, firing a few arrows at the water elemental, thinking that he probably would be unable to hit the monk.

Shangor places a particularly strong flame strike near Aldoroc, damaging the water elemental. Verilia steps back and follows it up with another. Unfortunately, the air elemental is largely ineffectual. The water elemental, in turn, continues pounding on the hapless fighter, still stunned from the monk’s previous attack. Before Aldoroc can recover, Urlurg stuns him again, all the while regenerating the damage he has suffered at the hands, and claws, of Aldoroc’s allies.

This deadly dance ends abruptly when the water elemental decides to put its power into the attack, rather than into the accuracy of the strike. Two solid hits send Aldoroc slumping into a limp heap on the platform. The water elemental soon follows, however, as it gets hit by another fireball from Aramil, and a flame strike from Verilia. Kale steps up to the monk to engage him in melee combat, activating the flaming short sword he took from Virith’s corpse. Sylvan continues a barrage of magic missiles and even uses dispel magic, but the monk has no active spells.

Urlurg flees again, and quite quickly, to the east. The heroes pursue this time, Sylvan flying ahead first. Aramil follows, polymorphed once again into the shape of a gold dragon wyrmling. Verilia also joins the chase wildshaped as a shark and she summons a celestial sea cat to aid in the underwater hunt.

Shangor pulls out the second and last scroll of true resurrection, and casts it on the body of Aldoroc, though technically no body is needed. A brilliant white flash of divine energy fills the large cavern. A low hum emanates from the corpse and after a few seconds Aldoroc sucks in a big breath, and expels it slowly. His first words, “Where’s my axe?”

After almost half a minute of chasing, Urlurg has regenerated quite a bit, but once cornered, he runs again. Shangor attempts to seal off the chamber, apparently a cave that served as a barracks for the kuo-toan warriors. His wall of stone does not reach the ceiling, however, and only serves to block in the sea cat. Urlurg deftly moves past the dwarf, enlarged from his righteous might, climbs over the wall, and drops to the other side between Verilia, Summer, Kale, and Aramil.

The corrupted monitor manages to tumble, even underwater, out of harm’s way, and make it to the platform. It appears that he is heading for one of the pools or for the brass horns still located on the altar. His impressive effort is to no avail as the combined attacks, and spells, from the heroes finish him once and for all. A quick check from Aramil ensures that the monk cannot regenerate from death.

The Assassin's Report

Pushing the hood of his dark cloak away from his face, Varachan frowns at the crystal ball. They are too careless, undisciplined. They will falter before ever reaching the Outer Fane. They are powerful, however, and have no need of my help…yet. Fortunately, Aldoroc resisted the…

The fallen priest’s musings are interrupted suddenly by the appearance of Victor. The acrid, purplish smoke dissipates quickly after the half-elf’s untimely arrival in Varachan’s bedchamber. Seemingly unperturbed by his travel, the assassin bows towards the High Priest. “Good evening, unholy Master. My apologies, I thought the refuge stick would bring me straight to Lord Hedrack.”

Varachan stands up from his padded leather chair. His magical armor barely hinders his movements as the cleric strides over to the assassin and backhands him across the face with a gauntleted fist. “Idiot. You are not paid to think. You were paid to kill the human fighter and I witnessed your failure myself.” Varachan gestures at the crystal ball, its violet glow slowly diminishing. “You are fortunate that Lord Hedrack required me to provide the refuge stick, as you would otherwise have to find your own way back from Khorasan.” He drapes a purple velvet cover over the crystal ball. “It would have been a deadly journey, of that I’m certain.”

Victor recoils from the strike, licking the blood from his lips. The cunning assassin has no trouble holding the urge to retaliate against Varachan. The second in command to the Outer Fane does not reach such a position without holding a substantial amount of power. The half-elf recalls when the evil priest had flayed alive a former assassin, a goblin archer named Gez, for failing on an important mission in the remote town of Hommlet.

The High Priest says, “Now, imbecile, tell me that you have at least secured some of the fighter’s blood, and hopefully a personal object of his.”

Victor holds out his rapier, still covered in blood, hilt-first to the priest. “I have a sample on my blade, my Lord. And, here is a holy symbol to…Heironeous, I believe.” He lowers his eyes, and then nervously mumbles, “My Lord Varachan, if there is a way that you could…not mention my failure to Lord Hedrack. I would be in your debt.”

The priest considers the request. “Very well. Leave your blade and the holy symbol here and return in an hour to pick up the weapon. Bring me a thousand gold pieces and the head from one of the bugbears near the Water Door. To prove your devotion, of course. Should Hedrack ask, we never had this conversation.”

The assassin quickly exits the room, making the not-so-peaceful journey clockwise around the Outer Fane in order to avoid the Grinder. Varachan pulls out a piece of cloth and wipes off the rapier. He then places the cloth and the holy symbol into his chest, locking it tightly. Only three more refuge sticks, I wonder how many more Hedrack will make me use. It’s a good thing he is unaware of the arrows. He smiles inwardly, painfully unaware.

Victor contemplates his current predicament. With an almost detached mentality, he reviews the encounter in his mind, trying to decipher whether Varachan bought the ruse. Victor fears very little, and Varachan, though powerful, does not worry him. Even Chymon does not worry him. Hedrack, however, does. And, maybe Lord Thrommel. Lord Hedrack is the one thing that truly strikes fear into his cold, black heart. The Master of the Outer Fane is the baseline by which evil should be defined, he thinks to himself.

After passing by the Greater Temple and anointing himself with the black tears of Tharizdun, which allow one past the golems, Victor moves more slowly and cautiously. He casts invisibility in an attempt to get to his room without meeting the Master. He hides in the shadows while walking past the open doorway, but a voice drifts out from the room, almost a whisper and yet loud enough to seemingly carry right to the assassin’s ears.

“Ah, Victor, there you are. I’ve been awaiting your report.” The voice speaks with a commanding tone, one that cannot be ignored. As Victor turns and approaches the room, other sounds are audible, grotesque sounds. A shiver runs down his spine, his mind refusing to contemplate the origin of those sounds and, more importantly, the disgusting smells now noticeable from the room.

He steps hesitantly forward, keeping his eyes down and trying not to see the naked humanoids in the room, strapped to the wall, lying down on the divan, or standing in wooden boxes. “Yes, my Lord.”

Hedrack stands up from amongst the cushions, pushing aside the voluptuous red-haired elven maiden and dropping the bloodied dagger point down into one of the black satin pillows. “Victor, I’m aware of your progress, or lack thereof, and let me assure you that continued failure is frowned upon.” The High Priest then turns to the maiden, who has touched his thigh, gently admonishing her, “Not now, honey, I have to tend to some business.”

Hedrack is the quintessential warrior. He is tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, and incredibly handsome. His sun-darkened skin glistens in the lamplight, as if smeared with oil. His impressive physical appearance and agility belie his superior intelligence and vast wisdom. Indeed, the mighty Hedrack is the perfect leader, and general of armies. He is one to be feared, even by the great Doomdreamers of the Inner Fane. Indeed, the Triad.

He gazes sternly at Victor. A muscle in his neck involuntarily twitches, and a puff of violet smoke issues from one of the boxes. The human male standing in the box grimaces silently in pain, and grips the scalding hot metal bar above his head even more firmly. “I understand that the human fighter still lives. That is unfortunate.” Hedrack walks behind the maiden, playfully gripping a handful of her hair. “You will try again. This time, obtain the dwarf’s holy symbol and, perhaps, part of his beard.” Suddenly, the High Priest crushes his knee into the back of the maiden’s head. She looks dazed, and blood seeps out of the corner of her mouth. His voice continues serenely, “Failure in this simple mission would be most regrettable.” Before Victor can even react, Hedrack casts destruction, pointing his finger at the maiden. A thin white beam shoots from his finger and strikes the girl between the shoulder blades. Her eyes focus momentarily, and accusingly, on Victor, and her blood-curdling shriek fills the room. A near inaudible concussion sounds as the poor girl implodes, showering the room in ashes. A silver banglet from her wrist drops to the pillow, remarkably encircling the dagger with a thin metallic clink.

Hedrack’s voice never wavers, and he seems totally unperturbed by the unholy carnage in his bedchamber. He waves the assassin away and considers a separate issue. What is Varachan hiding from me?

The Bugbear Caves

The short trek “home” to the Air Bridge is uneventful. Shangor heals most of the party’s injuries, and Kale uses a few charges from his newly purchased wand of cure light wounds. One of the guards prepares a satisfactory meal, and the heroes discuss the day’s events. Eventually, they decide to not pursue the real rulers of the Outer Fane, not just yet. First, they plan to eliminate the crater ridge mines in its entirety, leaving no stone unturned, and no enemy standing or capable of mounting a counter attack.

The heroes spend the night in careful watches, still separate from the guards, despite Kadiss’s assurances of their safety. Some few hours after midnight, Shangor is on watch. He stands relatively motionlessly in the center of the mess hall, keeping a sharp eye and ear towards the entrance. He never sees nor hears the assassin enter the room and only realizes the other dwarf’s presence when the rapier slides into his back, grating across his spinal column and paralyzing him.

The enemy dwarf steps around to his front, and grins evilly in his face. The assassin sheathes the rapier and draws a sharp-bladed dagger. He cuts off a lock of Shangor’s beard, and then grips the silver holy symbol to Moradin, a hammer and anvil, and pulls it free. He growls in common, “Lord Hedrack wants to say, ‘Hello’, and that if you pursue your quest against the Temple of All Consumption, you will be lucky to only die. Take it from me; it is not an idle threat.”

With that the assassin turns around, becoming invisible as he walks away. A few moments later, Shangor is able to move and alerts the party and the guards. A thorough search fails to uncover the intruder, however, and Shangor apologetically tells his companions what happened. They spend the remainder of the night restlessly and, in the morning, they head to Rastor. Rerrid gives a spare holy symbol to Shangor, who promises to purchase more spares the next time he visits Khorasan. Aramil comments offhand that now the Outer Fane has a much easier chance to scry both Aldoroc and Shangor.

Returning to Mount Stalagos, the heroes ignore the assassin’s dire warning, and continue their rampage. The exiting tunnels from the southeastern end of the Water Temple complex leads into some more abandoned mines. Or, maybe not so abandoned. A side chamber full of large iron ore bins also contains half a dozen man-sized monstrous scorpions, but these pose no threat to the heavily armored and incredibly agile Aldoroc. The one sting that hits is quickly tended by the cleric.

They take the leftmost passage, which leads around a bend and onto a bridge, overlooking a second passageway underneath, supposedly from one of the other exits. The ore cart tracks fill all the tunnels, and lead up to a couple of side chambers. The heroes hear some guttural voices coming from one of the side passages, so they approach cautiously.

As they round the corner, Kale almost bumps into a bugbear guard. He tries to persuade the guard to surrender, but the lack of a common language causes an eruption in hostilities. The bugbears are no match for the hardy adventurers, though, and fall quickly, despite having some obvious training in rogue combat skills. One bugbear flees through some tunnels to the east, and Verilia lets him go. Aldoroc pursues another bugbear through an odd chamber with a central pit filled with bones. He also hears the sounds of someone readying armor from an adjoining room blocked by a boulder.

Aldoroc squeezes past the boulder and into the room, provoking an attack from its lone occupant. The female bugbear in the room appears far stronger than the others, wears a chain shirt, and wields a beautifully crafted bastard sword, glowing faintly as it arcs through the air. Kale and Shangor also push past, Kale calling out for the bugbear leader to surrender.

Amazingly, she speaks the common tongue and replies, “Let me live? Like you let the others live? Chief Urolax is not scared of you!”

With that, she takes a mighty swing at Aldoroc, but not actually at his body, at his powerfully magical holy battleaxe. The two weapons collide with a resounding blow. Sparks fly from the battleaxe and it shudders in the human’s hands. His arms numb from the impact, he drops the weapon to the stone floor, broken. Shangor and Kale reflexively take a step back, shocked at the turn of events. Aldoroc, heedless of Urolax’s grin, draws a second magical battleaxe and cleaves the bugbear’s head from her shoulders.

Shangor looks down at the destroyed axe, “Oh lad! What a frightful thing!”

Kale sheathes his two magical weapons, thankful Chief Urolax didn’t destroy them instead. He turns away, letting Aldoroc have a moment to himself.

Aldoroc angrily kicks the bugbear’s head across the room, “Stupid, rotten bugbear whore! I paid a lot of money for that weapon!”

Aramil bends down to the battleaxe, “Uh, Aldoroc, it’s not entirely damaged. Unless I’m mistaken, Shangor…”

Shangor’s face brightens up as he interrupts, “Make whole! Aye, lad, praise be to St. Zans and St. Sherman, the greater protectors o’ arms and armor! The weapon is no so damaged as ye firs’ thought! I kin repair it on the morrow!”