The heroes return from Waterdeep;
To seek an envoy with trail not yet cold;
With need of rescue from evil that does not sleep.
A statue to make limber after cracks had been mended;
Stone which years had passed like so many wraiths;
Was again flesh and the long curse was ended.
A warrior of the realm of Besilmer in ancient times;
He had fought the swell of orcs, their bodies hewn;
But fell to ancient horror of a great many crimes.
Little could he tell of this new cult or its locations;
Of Besilmer he spoke of plans to build a great fortress;
But he was already stone before it raised stations.
And heard tale of a rough caravan guard across the way;
In the Helm at Highsun, this half-orc tasted the humors;
And argued grappling techniques against the deputy’s say.
Before setting to join them for her own conversation;
Zomith the guard insisted she would not alone drown;
And insisted that the paladin share the sensation.
Talindra approached the subject of Mirabar’s lost;
And Zomith recalled a bit of a brawling spree;
Sparked by Mirabar’s insults for mercenaries crossed.
And yet they had not reached the Summit Hall;
To deliver the body of a hero of recent past;
So they must not have gone far before their fall.
And found him with Jalessa the butcher;
Who cautioned that the town demanded he hark;
To all the woes of recent events needed succor.
For the Mirabaran delegation lost in the hills;
And asked that he speak to The Believers kept;
Within the jail for word of their master’s thrills.
As ever he had done in the past;
And spoke like a veritable dunce;
About Larrakh’s absence on some task.
That the priest whom had twisted the Believers;
Was, to those with whom he did stand;
Not regarded as among the high achievers.
From a local shepherd of new graves;
Appeared mysteriously out of the pale;
Approaching the hills rise like waves.
Had come to the town with intent to entertain;
At the bequest of Marle they forged many entrances;
And against the grim tidings they did strain.
To the locals with displays of simple magics;
But a mighty uphill path did face this ploy;
And many took her art for mere tricks.
In an expedition of the Gauntlet’s might;
And though the audience found no fudges;
The monk’s technique brought them no light.
But the most exceptional participant;
Proved to be the pickles sold by the barrel-full;
Prepared by Grund the Magnificent.
Avoiding the spotlight like a good support;
And helping mark Red Larch as a safe port.
Marle turned south to speak to Vallivoe;
Seeking of the book word credible;
As to how it had come from unknown foe.
And found an archive of his past deals;
A peddler had come through town with this tome;
Saying he’d found in Womford some steals.
The party decided to speak to the shepherd;
Larmon Greenboot took them through sections;
To the place where four bodies were interred.
Two of folk of Mirabar and two cultists clear;
By arrow and crushing blows of unknown fear;
Toward the places of waiting they did steer.
And painted a tale of clear ambush.
A battle drawn in many lines;
Between air and earth in a rush.
And buried the dead according to their belief;
And Fennle noted the site lay squish;
Between the influence of each grief.
Lay nearby and her suspicion drew her to assume;
That the monks she had led there were devout;
But to powers that wished but to consume.
For the Sacred Stone monastery they sought;
Finding it as Lathander’s dawn did break forth;
They wondered with what perils it was frought.
Wherein statues of frozen horror stood silent;
With two suspicious gargoyles hidden;
But spotted out by clever use of enchantment.
And approached the door near the east tower;
The non-union lock could made no defence;
Against the skill of Union 2-7-1’s skillful power.
And risked a peek into the left-hand room;
But the Abbess noticed to Fennle’s chagrin
To seek aid within and battle those who presumed;
To approach the fastness with hostile intents.
She reached the rear door in a burst;
And struck one of the students low.
Blasting the valiant monk with a triple combo;
So that life she was barely clinging to.
With an invisible hand guided by his brain;
He twisted the lock shut to bar further doom.
Lest Fennle be overwhelmed and they mourn her;
Against them her armor suffered no dents.
Bringing him down ere he turned a blow;
And the doom on Fennle did not grow.
Strength that Talindra found only thin;
Restoring a portion of Fennle’s battered spleen;
And striking the Abbess like a holy curse.
As her enemy complimented her growth;
Of her strikes one did land but not both.
And sadly her skillful defense was not enough;
As the blind Abbess’s technique was far advanced;
And now with death she had danced.
Spurred by the monk’s swift defeat;
The arcane technician launched an arrow;
Lohn considered another trick to throw.
Talindra held her action for just a moment;
Weathering blows from the masked acolytes;
And with her touch the monk came out of the lights.
The Abbess disdained the paladin’s deed;
Declaring her friends made her vulnerable;
But for others she was still assailable.
Marle was shocked at Fennle’s sudden fall;
So used to the monk facing all;
And struck the foes like the sight of Euryale.
Two students weathered the strength of her throat;
But Hellenrae and another were thrust off their feet;
Though a monk struck back in a manner most fleet.
Elivia behind the bard called another word of life;
Addressing Talindra’s fading health;
Into the prone Abbess with no need for stealth.
By virtue of the ancient fey force in Talindra’s hands;
Striking with spear and feet her assault lands;
Attempting strongly her enemy to pin.
Hellenrae was standing in but a blink;
And lashed out at both of her foes;
To the ground beset by her blows.
Near them the door previously locked;
Was shook from the other side by unknown hand;
Lest they find themselves facing a greater band.
Talindra struck forth with her keen blade;
But found the blind woman an enemy nimble;
The Abbess again saying her worth less than a thimble.
Lohn’s bow released yet another dart;
But for once the man of 271 found no luck;
And he cursed under his breath something like muck.
As his fellow beset the tiefling songstress;
And struck through an opening he did find.
And declared two words in hellish anger;
“Heat Metal” she declared as Hellenrae raised a din.
The burning mess of gilded tin his hands did gnarl;
And stole much of his trained grace.
Another burst of healing on Talindra was spent;
And lightning struck true without prevention.
And spear through her student now quite late;
Such that both felt the approach of death’s law.
Upon another foe before he could treat her as a board;
And from his face did pass away the light.
As the nimble man ducked the flying shard;
He was not deterred from Marle one bit.
Though against the wood door he poorly fared;
His strength strangely seemed to fade.
Rapier missing clean past;
But the dagger Rezur did quietly rent;
His enemy’s flesh at the last.
And rained blows upon the tiefling;
Trying to remove from his honor this horrible stain;
Of allowing the bard her spells to sling.
But found her harder to strike than apparent;
And for his trouble he faced lightning esoteric;
His defensive efforts greatly spent.
Tearing asunder the monk’s body;
Her spear and fists with blood flushed;
She helped the enemy disembody.
Talindra restored her body’s force;
The Abbess coughed, she still did abide;
Until the paladin’s blade struck her life’s source.
Lohn turned to Elivia’s opponent;
The feather’s tickling the aasimar’s ear;
The barb, the enemy’s throat did rent.
The monk clapped a hand to his throat;
And fled down the hall in hopes to escape fate;
Around the corner he did not quite float.
“You can’t outrun magic missiles.”
The necromancer’s wand embraced it’s utility;
And struck through the air like a whistle.
And Fennle surged to the priestess’s side;
From her hands a bright Kienzan did pour;
And struck the last foe with her pride.
The last foe charged forward at the Sun Soul;
True struck his violent and aggressive blow;
And once again Fennle almost fell into death’s bowl.
Falling to the ground with curses whispered;
And leaving now silent the hall;
So that the party now considered.
By strength and by magic the scene was cleaned;
Bodies were moved from out of here;
And blood and signs of battle were screened.
Catching their breaths and waiting for the alarm;
Yet the monks apparently failed the test;
And passed through the mystery unaware of the harm.