The Salamander

Heunar coughs, spitting up blood onto the body of the unconscious halfling.

Tippesh glances indifferently at her half-orc lover. “You should visit the Air Temple and have Fachish cure that disease for you. I don’t want to catch it.”

The ugly half-orc coughs again, and then presses his hand against the warm stone wall, waiting till the dizziness passes. The warmth of the Fire Temple doesn’t help his breathing. “Yeah, like Fachish would help me, even if I paid a lot of money.” His sarcasm is ruined by another cough as he replies to the human wizard. “I think I’ll take my chances without magical healing.”

Tippesh drags the body of the halfling across the rough stone floor. A trio of guards accompanies the two emissaries from the Fire Bridge to Lord Skassik, waiting in the Fire Temple.

The red-enameled bronze double doors open to reveal an eighty-foot wide flaming pit. A thirty-foot square platform with a black altar floats to the edge of the pit as Lord Skassik slithers off and onto the stone floor. He wears a beautiful suit of mithril plate mail, custom fit for his unusual snakelike form. He gestures grandly around the temple and says, “Welcome to the Fire Temple, my friends. I see you’ve brought my…er, next guest.” The flames licking his body flare up in anticipation. “Guards, take her to the iron maiden. And, pay them.”

Two of the guards drag the body through the curtain wall to the east, while the other obtains a potion bottle and a large emerald from Tippesh.

Tippesh says, “Lord D’Gran sends greetings to his ally, Lord Skassik. He also expresses an interest in a coordinated assault of the Air Temple once the interlopers are properly dealt with.”

The salamander considers the offer. “Perhaps.”

The Tracks

The tracks end at the fireplace in the Eastern Bridge Complex. The invisible stalkers shrug in unison, neither seeing the other but somehow amazingly working together as a unit.

They return hesitantly to the Outer Fane, dreading the report of failure to find the intruders to Lord Hedrack, but fearing the lack of a report even more. At least they have useful information on the occupied forces in the Northern Bridge Complex.

The Hostages

Naquent kneels down at her private altar. She tentatively lifts the crystal goblet to her lips, holds her breaths and drinks deeply of the blood. Stemming the bile rising in her throat she casts the spell to call forth a planar ally.

A violet mist surges from the altar, forming into a large demon. The bar-lgura glares disdainfully at the high priestess, “You rang?”

Naquent sits up, fiercely gripping her obex. Although protected by her spell, she hates calling these dreadful beasts into her own room. “I have a simple mission for you that should take little of your time. Travel to Rastor and obtain two townspeople, preferably dwarves. I want them alive. Your capture will be timed with an attack on the town, so you should have no adversaries to contend with.”

The demon considers the simplicity of the request and a bargain is quickly reached.

The operation succeeds easily and a couple of hours later, the demon returns with two unconscious dwarven craftsmen, one still wearing his work smock. It obtains its payment of a gold necklace studded with amethysts and then departs.

The high priestess turns to the spectre and orders, “If anyone but I enters the room, kill the hostages.”

The Blue Demon

D’Gran tosses the letter into the fire. Why do I need to capture the intruders alive? Why would they be hiding amongst the orcs? I had planned to wipe out those orcs anyway, but being ordered by Varachan to do so just…irritates me. I hope I eventually have the opportunity to eliminate him as well, perhaps with the help of Naquent. She wants him dead almost as much as I do.

The blue demon thinks about it some more, then smiles. No, I don’t want him dead. I want him alive, and screaming.

D’Gran rounds up some of his troops and readies them for battle. He sends Krall, Tippesh, and half the guards down the western passage while he takes Skank, Heunar, and the other half down the eastern passage. The battles are short and decisive. None from the attacking force are killed or even badly wounded. The orcs put up little resistance and are easily defeated.

Murant recognizes the power of D’Gran’s assault force and instead of fighting, surrenders. He pays off D’Gran with all of his money and treasure, and convinces the ogre mage to let him join the Western Bridge Complex.

The orc barbarian is not weak, so D’Gran accepts the offer. As a sign of his new allegiance, D’Gran orders Murant to personally murder the entire roomful of orc women and children. The barbarian does so happily, a smile of relief spread across his dirty face.

The Message for Fachish

The High Priestess places the bloody dagger back onto the altar, slowly coming out of her state of arousal and the throes of ecstasy in worshipping the Dark God. She uses her healing magic to cure the ceremonial knife wounds, smiling affectionately at the new scar from the night’s service.

Naquent looks up at the arriving quasit. The reddish demon is particularly strong for a quasit, much stronger than any other she has seen. He floats gently in the doorway to her private chamber, about three feet from the floor. Every minute or so he disappears and then reappears, flaunting his ability to turn invisible at will.

Insentorix speaks in abyssal, “Lord Hedrack sent me to assist you in some matter. What is it?”

Naquent grimaces at the demon’s tone, and grumbles at its obvious lack of respect. She only barely holds her dismissal in check, planning to one day end its existence on the material plane. If only to irritate the demon, she replies in the common tongue, “I need you to send a message to Fachish, the High Priest of the Air Temple. Tell him that he must send an assault force to wipe out the remnants of the Northern Bridge Complex. They are enemies of the Temple of All Consumption.”

Insentorix, not one for maintaining control of his emotions, whines in frustration. “You are sending me to perform such a menial task?”

The High Priestess grins at the quasit, suddenly excited at its near refusal to do the task. She readies dismissal and holds her hand in the air, reaching slowly for the flying demon. She reverts to abyssal; to make sure the creature understands her fully. “So, Insentorix. Am I to understand this correctly? You are refusing my direct command, at the behest of Lord Hedrack? I don’t think Lord Hedrack would be pleased with you when he calls you back from the abyss.”

The demon appears frightened at her hand, as if it were the deadliest snake in the world. Not that tanar’ri can feel poison. “No, Lady Naquent. I’ll leave right now.” He then turns invisible and flies off down the hallway towards the Air Door.

The Slurry Pit

The next morning after returning to the bolt hole, the heroes get fired up for attacking the Fire Temple. The new addition, or old addition in new guise, Verrick prepares his new warhorse to battle the flames. However, upon exiting the elevator room in the lounge area of the Eastern Bridge Complex, the decision is made to investigate the tunnels north of the complex first, where the gray render originated.

The northern tunnel forks east and west. The northwestern passage leads to the lair of the gray render, now smelling horribly of decay when Kale finds a half-eaten carcass of a cow. Kale notes that the carcass is still covered in maggots, and wisely decides not to investigate the lair any further.

The northeastern passage leads into a wide room filled with rocky debris and dust. Aldoroc, Shangor, and Sylvan enter the room down a sharply descending incline. All three lose their footing and slide down the slope further into the room.

Sylvan manages to pull out his wand and levitate himself above the floor. He offers to levitate Aldoroc and Shangor, but Aldoroc turns him down, apparently deciding that he will not let a simple slippery room get the best of him. Kale throws a rope to Sylvan and Shangor and pulls them out of the area.

The burly human fighter continues to struggle against the slippery slope and slides further north and around the corner out of view from the rest of the party. Slipping on the rocky debris is not pleasant. The sharp protrusions poke, jab, and cut at Aldoroc. At one point, he manages to climb back up into the main room, only to slide all the back again, almost falling into a deep pit. He barely grabs hold onto a firm rock outcropping at the edge.

Finally, Verrick wildshapes into a dire bat and flies into the room. He finds Aldoroc hanging over the pit and hovers down into the pit to see what it contains. The pit is almost eighty feet deep and filled with an acidic mud. Hitting the slurry would not be pleasant, but attempting to survive would surely be deadly for the strong warrior. He flies back out of the pit and picks up Aldoroc by the shoulders, hauling him out of the danger zone.

Shangor heals some of their wounds, but he has no healing spell for Aldoroc’s dignity. Until now, Aldoroc prided himself on his dexterity and mobility. Nevertheless, a hardened adventurer, he shrugs it off and the heroes resume their exploration of the complex.

A number of doors bar their way and these are destroyed by Aldoroc, perhaps still irritated at the pit. Aramil surmises that Eeridik placed arcane lock on most of the doors, due to the difficulty in opening them. It’s an expensive task, but an effective one at locking up the area against most unwanted guests.

The remainder of the Eastern Bridge Complex contains little of value so the adventurers travel all the way to the northern doors of the Fire Temple. Instead of assaulting the Fire Temple, however, they decide to check out the passage to the northeast. In passing, Sylvan notes that the temple doors have been repaired.

The tunnel to the northeast is cold and dark.

The Crypts

The tunnel leads to a broad room containing two large black stone statues. The statues resemble warriors in action, menacing, and wearing armor with angular flanges and strange embellishments. Both face south and stand ten feet tall, wielding long swords with bizarre baroque ornamentation. Aramil casts detect magic, noting strong necromancy magic on the statues, so the party moves cautiously.

Some writing is inscribed on the floor in front of the statues, but no one understands the language. The lettering is ancient, twisted, and somehow disturbing. Sylvan stops and prepares a comprehend languages spell for fifteen minutes and then touches the writing, translating it into the common tongue from its native abyssal. “Here lie those who served best the dark master in all his forms. Disturb not their slumber.”

Shangor says, “Sounds ominous, lad.”

Aramil agrees, “I suggest that we leave the things alone until we figure out what we are up against.”

Kale shifts nervously on his feet, not very comfortable with fighting the undead now that he has gotten rid of the ghost touch longsword. “I agree, but I’m not too happy about just letting the former worshippers of the Elder Elemental Eye and Tharizdun sleep in peace.”

They explore into the next chamber, Sylvan lighting their way with dancing lights, and disturb a group of dire bats. The bats attack, not seemingly inconvenienced by the tight quarters, but they are no match for the trespassers. Verrick does not even have the time to command the animals to flee. He is not too concerned with their deaths though, assuming the bats to have absorbed too much of the pervading evil in the crypts.

A couple of side chambers contain sarcophagi, but these are left alone. However, Aramil uses detect magic to see if any are magically trapped or if they contain valuable treasures. Some do, and the dragon disciple notes which ones to pay closer attention to later.

Further north, the passage curves around to the west and leads to a large chamber with eight sarcophagi. The passage turns to the north again and continues. Aldoroc and Kale lead the way into the next hallway, but their exploration is interrupted by four ghostlike undead and eight shadow monsters. The ghost’s true nature is revealed when two of them flank Aldoroc and touch him, striking right through his magical armor. Aldoroc screams in pain at the dual attacks when almost half his life force is drained away.

Shangor yells out, “Lads, be careful! We are under attack by unholy spectres and a cadre of shadows!”

Another spectre swipes at Kale, drawing part of his energy as well. The fourth moves through the floor and up in front of the cleric of Moradin. Two of the shadows get into position around Kale and Aldoroc, while the other six move through the walls to attack Sylvan and Aramil at the rear. Verrick seems well protected in the center of the group.

Aldoroc draws his holy battleaxe and swings at the nearest spectre, striking truly and yet failing to affect it. Kale draws both of his weapons similarly misses. Shangor grips his holy symbol and says, “By the power o’ Moradin, I command ye foul beasts to flee or be destroyed!” The two nearest shadows dissipate in response, unable to withstand the cleric’s power. The spectre in front of Shangor withdraws into the floor.

Sylvan casts mirror image and shield, while Aramil casts mage armor and shield. Protected from the shadows, the dragon disciple starts pummeling the spectres with magic missiles. Sylvan also casts magic missiles until he has no more, and then pulls out his wand.

One of the spectres touches Aldoroc again, eliciting another yelp of agony. The others amazingly miss, despite their flanking positions. Shangor casts spiritual weapon and a warhammer made of force attacks one of the spectres. He then steps backward and destroys the remaining shadows by channeling strong positive energy.

Verrick casts flame blade and attempts to get some attacks in, but they are largely ineffective. Fortunately, the spectres are eventually destroyed from the combined magical attacks and a few lucky strikes from Aldoroc and Kale.

Aldoroc slumps against the wall in obvious agony. His skin has become ashen and his eyes look sunken in his skull. Even one more strike from the specters could have finished him off. Aldoroc mumbles aloud, “My granddaddy always said that there’s a fine line between bravery and utter stupidity.” Then, to himself, “I almost crossed it.”

The last spectre to reappear has no chance against the prepared heroes. It reemerges from the lid of a sarcophagus and attacks Aramil, but misses terribly. The subsequent barrage of magic missiles and weapons destroys it within seconds.

Shangor strides over to Aldoroc, yanking a scroll from his pack. “Lad, ye done a brave thing back there. It were a wee bit idiotic, too. Let me help ye relieving that pain, though.” He then reads the restoration spell from the scroll and Aldoroc suddenly looks a whole lot better. Shangor turns to the archer, “I’m sorry, lad. I’ve only the one scroll, ye know. Tomorrow, if’n we live to see another day, I’ll cast restoration on ye.”

The Greatest of Us, Gone but not Slain

Instead of resting for the night, the adventurers decide to resume their exploration into the last, and largest of the crypts, almost sixty feet long and forty feet wide. The walls glisten as though wet, shimmering in the continual flames mounted on Kale’s armor. A single sarcophagus made of reddish stone rests in the center of the room atop an obsidian dais with three steps. A squat, bloated demon statue sits on the lid of the coffin like a guardian. A warrior statue stands nearby, holding a bronze spear at attention. The statue is made of dark gray stone, but strangely wears bronze plate mail covered in the verdigris of age. In front of the sarcophagus, the heroes see an empty pool, about ten feet square.

Aldoroc takes a few steps into the room, educing a reaction from the statue. The statue turns to the human and points his spear at him as the pool magically fills up with water. Aldoroc stops and waits to see what happened, only to get hit in the chest with a powerful salvo of magic missiles from the statue. Taking the hint, he retreats out of the room and watches the statue stand back at attention and the pool of water empty again.

Aramil casts detect magic and takes a few minutes to study the items within sight. The pool basin radiates faint conjuration and illusory magic. As expected, the statue is based on moderate evocation magic. The demon statue radiates strong illusion, but the lid radiates strong abjuration magic.

A long discussion ensues as Aramil, Shangor, Sylvan, and Verrick contemplate what all the auras mean. Kale tries to help, but the extent of his magical knowledge is limited, particularly when compared to the other powerful spellcasters. Aldoroc just tries not to look bored, and drinks a potion of cure light wounds or two.

Eventually, they decide to leave and think about it over a good night’s sleep on the pallets in the bolt hole. In the morning, Shangor casts restoration on Kale and then tends to any remaining injuries. The adventurers head back to the Grand Crypt, encountering no difficulties on the way. Strangely, the Fire Temple has not posted any guards by the door. Or, at least none that they could see.

Aramil casts shield and steps into the room, evoking the same response from the previous day. Sylvan does the same thing and the warrior statue shifts its attention to the newcomer. It then alternates between the two targets, blasting Aramil with magic missiles and then Sylvan. It seems to have no limit, and no concept of its ineffectiveness, so the two elves leave the room.

A plan is finally put into action, whereby Sylvan, Aramil, and Aldoroc will enter the room. The statue will split its attacks amongst the three intruders, allowing the fighter to beat on the statue until it crumbles. The plan works, though Aldoroc takes a few more magic missiles than he’d like. The statue is surprisingly tough, particularly with the bronze plating. Shangor joins them and uses a cure critical wounds spell to help the fighter.

Standing near the lid, Aramil can now read the writing engraved there in common. “The greatest of us, gone but not slain.”

Shangor grunts. “Aye, so I’d wager that the cleric buried in this unholy tomb will not be wantin’ us ta open it.”

Kale agrees with the dwarf. “It’s a good bet that the priest in here is not entirely dead.”

Aldoroc, still holding his holy battleaxe, nods affirmatively. “So be it. The evil must be destroyed. By Heironeous, I will see justice served.”

Sylvan and Verrick stand outside the room. Verrick casts detect magic and keeps an eye on the sarcophagus, particularly the lid. Kale and Shangor join Aldoroc, who has reattached his weapon to his belt. Aramil casts dispel magic on the sarcophagus, suppressing the illusion, but not the abjuration. Nevertheless, his three comrades attempt to lift the lid to no avail. On the brighter side, nothing bad happens. Nothing visible anyway.

They keep trying as the dispel magic ends and the bloated demon springs to life. It hisses at the burglars and says, “This is the resting place of Unariq VoTalsimol, who has joined with the Master.” The demon returns to its normal pose, as Sylvan and Aramil both comment in unison that it is merely a magic mouth spell.

Kale sticks his hands in the water of the pool, wiping them off. When he places them back on the lid, he notices that it does not feel quite the same. He cups his hands and dumps a double handful of water on the lid. Aldoroc and Shangor do the same thing and all three heave together on the lid. It is difficult, but after almost half a minute, they push the heavy top off. It falls to the floor with a crash, breaking the head from the bloated demon.

Everyone gazes at the open sarcophagus, fully expecting to see a mummy emerge from the tomb. Their fears are not quite allayed, however, when instead they see a swirling black vortex. The portal is almost mesmerizing, but appears way too dangerous to play with. Shangor says, “I almost wish it were an undead.”

The adventurers decide to plunder the other sarcophagi and leave this room alone. The traps are largely ignored by the battle hardened adventurers, but after a few lids are tossed aside, Aldoroc succumbs to a terrible disease. He falls to the floor, writhing in pain as mottled purple bumps appear on his skin. He gets worse by the second until Shangor pulls out first a cure disease scroll and then a remove curse.

Aramil deduces the origination of the powerful curses and recommends that Aldoroc lay his battleaxe into the two statues at the front. Just in case it matters, Shangor gives Aldoroc the protection of Moradin, using his powerful innate clerical ability.

Once the two guardian statues become a pile of rubble, the necromantic aura disappears and the tomb raiders rob the remaining crypts with impunity, finding no need to respect the dead of such an evil cult.