Elements of Evil

Tychon is small for a human, reaching just over five feet. That, combined with his smooth cheeked, baby-face make him appear immature despite his 25 years. No doubt the taunts of his peers contributed to his choosing the dark path to power, leading him ultimately to joining the ranks of the Doomdreamers. His social standing has improved little, for he is not well liked amongst the other mad Clerics of the Dark God. Rather than journeying to the Recovered Temple, he was forced to stay behind and guard the Black Spike from intrusion.

Tychon fell defending the Dreaming Stone the 3rd of Harvester, CY 594.

Working their way out of the Recovered Temple, retelling the tale of their escape from the Fire Node to Burne and Rufus’ company, the adventurers still could not believe that they had made it out of Imix’s throne room alive. Most of them at least. The party withdrew to their campsite carrying Saskia’s remains bound in her cloak. Once they were free of the Temple’s evil influence Y’Dey said a prayer to St. Cuthbert and called on his power to return the Elven archer to life. Although she was not a believer, St. Cuthbert was not entirely without compassion, especially to the worthy who had given their lives in defense of community. Divine power surged through Saskia’s corpse, mending the grievous wound that had laid her low. When the ritual was complete nothing remained of her injuries save a memory. Slowly she stirred, as if from a deep and clinging sleep. It was not the first time she had crossed the threshold of the eternal boundary, but she would never find it easy.
The night passed uneventfully. Although the location of their hidden refuge had been compromised, there were none to take advantage of it. In the morning Burne, Rufus and the others decided to return to Hommlet. With the Doomdreamers expelled from the Temple there was little reason to remain, the call of their responsibilities in town growing louder with ever passing moment. The sky was clear of the dark cloud that had blanketed the countryside, and watching the dawn it was hard to believe that such vileness only a day early had obscured the sun. The adventurers were not quite finished with the Temple though.
By noon they had made their way back in and made a beeline to where the ghost of Senshock had sent them fleeing only a few days prior. This time, at full strength, the angry spirit didn’t stand a chance and was quickly destroyed. The party knew it was only temporary though. Ghosts haunted a place for a reason, and until that reason was fulfilled Senshock was doomed to manifest over and over again rather than moving on to the afterlife. At least the spirit wouldn’t harass them while they scoured the rest of the area for information and loot, and at least their pride had been mended.
Nearby, in a badly caved-in section, the party were attacked by an immense slime covered worm who burst from the ground as easily as a shark breaks the surface of the water. Though only the top portion of its body was visible, the adventurers could see that it was easily eighty feet long with a mouth wide enough to swallow on Ogre whole without considerable effort. Stelios and Grayzon engaged the beast while the rest of the party unleashed their weapons and spells from a distance. Working in tandem the Elf and the Dwarf fought the worm like a pair of wolves. One striking, the other dodging, always keeping the creature off balance. Working together they were able to evade the worm’s deadly maw and only took a few jabs of the monster’s stinger tipped tail. In the end, it was Circe, channelling her most destructive spell, who slew the beast, reducing the tens of thousands of pounds of its mass to nothing but a scattering of fine gray dust.
With nothing left in the Recovered Temple to disturb them the party spent the next hour combing through the few rooms they had not yet explored. Here they found the camp of the Doomdreamers. Not only was this were the dark Clerics had stashed their treasures of magic and gold but the party also found the Journal of Susain Carun. The writing was chaotic and disorganized, the ramblings of a madwoman, but it laid out once and for all what the Doomdreamers plans had been.
By manipulating the followers of Zuggtmoy and Iuz, the Doomdreamers had created the Elemental Nodes as a stepping stone, halfway between the Oerth and the Inner Planes. In these Demiplanes, the prophesied Champion of Elemental Evil, who was revealed as Lareth, could summon the four Elemental Princes, of which Imix was one. The Elemental Princes, using the Orb of Oblivion could then sound the silver horn the party had found in the Greater Temple, sundering the prison that held Tharizdun and freeing the Dark God from his epoch long slumber. All four Princes working in unison ensured that the ritual would succeed, but frighteningly, there was a chance that even Imix alone could have succeeded. The information left the party wondering just how close they had come to the precipice.
After reading through the notes the party moved quickly to secure the silver horn. Adding it to the Fire Gem, the Orb of Oblivion and the Orb of Silvery Death, the party’s victory over the plans of the Doomdreamers was complete. The Champion of Elemental Evil had been slain, Imix was imprisoned within the Fire Node, and the Doomdreamers had no way to complete their ritual. The only question that remained was what to do with this blasphemous collection.
The party decided that keeping the items together was far too dangerous. Should anything happen to them, the plans to free Tharizdun could begin anew, the adventurers’ heroic efforts only a minor bump in the road to the Triad’s victory. It was time to enlist the aid of some of the party’s allies.
Traversing the miles between the Temple and Verbobonc in an instant, Circe teleported her comrades to the outskirts of the city. Inside the metropolis, a clandestine meeting was held with Bishop Haufren. Although there were many stalwart faiths in the city, foremost among them the Church of Pelor, it was decided that only the Church of St. Cuthbert possessed the resources necessary to safeguard such a malevolent object as the Horn of Armageddon. Haufren agreed, locking silver instrument away in the Church’s deepest, well guarded, lead lined vault. The party knew that in spite of differences in faith, the Cuthbertines would defend the horn with their lives, for their word was their bond.
While resupplying in Verbobonc it was clear that much had transpired in the party’s absence. There were signs of fires across the city and talk was that riots had broken out only to be quelled by the return of the Viscount Languard at the head of an army. Ariakus was at his Liege’s side, but rumor also held he was joined by the tyrant Lord Blackpool who marched a company of brutal heavy infantry. A later meeting with Ariakus confirmed this as true. He had taken the Viscount into hiding for his own safety and had brokered the deal between him and Blackpool. The business was distasteful but the Psion ensured the party it had been necessary. In exchange for Blackpool’s aid the Viscount agreed to turn a blind eye to the Blackguard’s dealings with the Gnomes of the Kron hills. There was more. The Viscount also agreed to sponsor the title claim of Lord Blackpool’s ward, a young Half-Elf named Gideon Xanti the younger. Cassius was shocked, but Ariakus assured the Aasimar that the claim was legitimate. Unknown even to himself, during his time with the Heroes of Hommlet Sir Gideon had sired a son. His offspring was raised in secret, no doubt twisted by the Hextorian teachings of Blackpool, and was now set to inherit his father’s lands… should anything happen to him.
Cassius could barely hold his anger in check. The claim could be contested, but Ariakus felt there was little chance of succeeding since Blackpool had both the truth as well as the word of the ruler of an allied nation on his side. Thankfully, Cassius had the ear of the Crown Prince of Furyondy to tip the scales in his favor. Or so he thought… A few days after their meeting with Ariakus, while waiting for the Silver Consortium to build the items they had commissioned, shocking news from the north spread across the city like wildfire.
Prince Thrommel had mysteriously returned to his homeland, alive after decades of imprisonment, only to abdicate his place in line for the throne to his younger brother. The party were stunned to say the least and immediately sent message to Jolene.
But it was not their old friend who contacted them. Instead Thrommel himself, in magical disguise, sought the party out. The former Prince explained his actions. He would not risk a civil war fighting a brother who had spent the last twenty years believing the crown was destined to be his, no matter how unworthy he was. Besides, after what he had endured in the Temple of All Consumption Thrommel was not sure if he was capable of leading his people anymore. He would spend a year travelling the land in disguise, humbly atoning for his crimes, bringing justice to those in need. Only afterwards could he give himself to his true love and give Jolene the wedding she had waited so long for. The adventurers felt he had made the wrong decision, but kept their feelings hidden out of sympathy. Thrommel may have abandoned his duty to the people of Furyondy, but he had been tortured enough. After some debate the party elected to have Thrommel guard the Orb of Oblivion, a more fitting and appropriate atonement than random good deeds could ever achieve.
In gratitude for his recovery he also brought Jolene’s reward. The adventurers had been granted land and title, a stretch of small baronies on the southern border of Veluna. Cassius may have been cheated out of his inheritance, but he and his comrades had earned much more and by their own hands. Their mark upon the Flaeness was indelible now, written large across the peaks of the northern Lortmils.
Their new titles were not the party’s only achievement during their brief stay in Verbobonc. The work Circe and Cassius had done counselling Varachan had borne fruit. Though he had turned against the Dark God before he had even met the party, Varachan had always carried a brooding cynicism towards the Gods, born of his guilt over the terrible deeds he had committed before his change of heart. Now he was ready to unburden his soul and devote his life to the teachings of Pelor. It was a small victory to destroy evil, but to show evil the light, to help reform it, was the greatest achievement of all in the eyes of the Sun God.
Bishop Charles Evertide made the preparations for the induction ceremony. The party collected the wares they needed for their final assault against the Cult of Elemental Evil. To confront the architect of all their troubles within the Black Spike of the Inner Fane. All that was left was to celebrate.
While the party were busy lifting flagons in Verbobonc, many miles away, in Rastor, the disparate band of forces the adventurers had assembled to defend their adopted town were fighting for their lives against a horrific abyssal construct in the shape of a bloated spider-demon with huge meat cleavers grafted to its legs…

Whoops, should have put this up a while ago, seeing as we’ve already played one of the dates
Anyway, in case anyone loses the email, we’re playing/played July 18th, 25th, and August 29th.
Not much farther now Papa Smurf.

Stelios had been trapped in the Fire Node for days, unsure if his companions would be able to rescue him, unsure even if they had survived their trials in the Recovered Temple. His relief at the party’s appearance was mixed with trepidation, for he had observed the denizens of this hellish place unseen, and the other less stealthy adventurers would undoubtedly draw the monsters forth like a beacon. The reunion would have to be postponed. Already the party were engaged in battle.
The Noble Salamander who had been tasked with guarding the arrival point of the pocket dimension charged the new arrivals with a long iron spear. The clash did not last long. Cassius had abjured the party against the heat of the demiplane and in doing so had rendered the Salamander’s greatest weapon useless. Even as the Salamander fell Stelios knew they had to move. The arrival chamber was at the centre of the place, a half dozen volcanic passages sprawling off in all directions. The Rogue knew that if they stayed they would quickly be surrounded. A few hurried clasped arms and whispered intelligence had to suffice for a greeting and then Stelios was ushering the rest of the party out of the room, down one of the blistering, cracked hallways.
Volo could hear the thundering beat of giant footsteps running through the maze of halls to intercept them. The party’s appearance had been noticed. Stelios’ map held in front of them, the party moved to find a well defended room to make their stand against the Node’s guardians. Staying one step ahead of the Fire Giants that pursued them, the party rounded a corner… only to nearly run straight into a trio of Fire Elementals so large they had to bend and stoop to fit into the hall.
Thinking fast, Volo used Lareth’s adamantine rod to block the Fire Giants advance with a shimmering wall of force. Seeing the crowded hallway filled with enemies ahead of them, Circe saw the perfect opportunity for a spell – an explosion of ice shards. Practised hands snatched the spell components from the belt at her waist and she began the incantation she had performed hundreds of times before. There was something different this time, her fingers felt like they moved through molasses, her mouth went dry and her tongue found it near impossible to form the arcane syllables. It was as if the plane itself were resisting her attempt to inflict cold on a space so strongly aligned with fire. It wasn’t elegant, but she managed to stutter out the rest of the spell. It’s effect was impressive on the heat loving creatures, but Circe knew that the spell’s success owed more to luck than anything else and further use of ice magic would only waste her precious arcane reserves of power.
Thanks to Cassius’ divine magic the Fire Elementals’ attacks were only half as effective as they would have been, but likewise the monsters were resistant to most of the partys’ weapons. The adventurers had the advantage, but the battle was slow, and the noise was attracting unwanted attention. Before the last of their enemies fell, another group of Elementals and Fire Giants arrived on the scene. The Giant’s attacks relied on brute strength, not heat, so Cassius enchantments were no protection against them. All the Aasimar could do was stand his ground and hope that his healing magic could undo the punishment the party’s enemies were dishing out.
The combat pitched back and forth, the adventurers slowly grinding through the ranks of their enemies, maneuvering between the halls so they wouldn’t be overwhelmed by numbers. By the time Volo’s wall of force fell only a minute had passed, but to those stuck fast in the quagmire of the melee time seemed to crawl. The Elementals had all been destroyed, but the Giants, trapped behind Volo’s impenetrable barrier had worked themselves into a frenzy trying to break past it. When the wall’s energy had expended the Giants were free.
Surging into the hall like a tidal wave of muscle, the Fire Giants pushed past Grayzon and scattered the Dwarf, Cassius, Volo and Saskia to the floor. Taking advantage of his prone position two of the Giants flanked Grayzon, sweeping the area between them with pitted, battle-worn blades. Even on the ground Grayzon made a hard target. A childhood spent learning how to fight Giants made him difficult to hit, the blade of his axe flicking out and tasting blood for every mistake his enemies made. Then the unbelievable happened. Perhaps the nature of the demiplane blessed the Fire Giants’ attacks, or maybe fate had a particularly cruel mood that day. Both Giants swung their swords in unison, both blades somehow found their way through the overlapping plates of Grayzon’s armor, shearing flesh and bone and flesh again until they found their way to the stone of the floor. Dumbfounded at his ill fortune, the Dwarf could only let out a gurgling gasp of disbelief and slip away from life.
There were only seconds to act if their comrade was to be saved. Stelios ran interference, tumbling between the Giants and harrying them jabs from his shortsword. Then Cassius ran in, chanting a prayer to Pelor for the God’s most potent healing spell. If he moved quickly enough he could return life to Grayzon’s body before his spirit had truly left. Focusing completely on his spell, shutting out the chaos of the battle around him, Cassius placed a diamond on Grayzon’s lips, blocking the soul’s exit point. While the rest of the party dealt with the remaining Giants, Cassius and Grayzon were surrounded by a warm glow. When it receded, the diamond was gone and Greyzon’s eyes fluttered open. Cassius’ prayers had been answered.
Volo heard no more guardians approaching, and Stelios was sure that they had slain all of the Node’s denizens within earshot at least. Still, this was not the time to wander blindly and stumble into an unnecessary battle. The party had to conserve it’s strength. According to the notes from the Heroes of Hommlet, the only way to escape the Node was with the Fire Gem, and that undoubtedly was in possession of whomever had the Orb of Oblivion. Now that they had rescued Stelios, finding the two artifacts was all that mattered.
The party poured over the maps and notes Stelios had taken while sneaking through the demiplane these last days, but they weren’t enough. Spreading the papers around him Cassius sat cross-legged and entered an oracular trance. His voice took on an otherworldly tone as he pronounced his divination – the objects the party sought did not lie to the east, where the adventurers were preparing to search. That left only the southern reaches of the Node, where Stelios had once glimpsed the fearsome head of a Red Dragon snaking behind a corner, or the area north where the Elf had not been able to penetrate. The party agreed to head north, some choosing it on instinct, some feeling it was the logical location to choose, and others simply not eager to face another Dragon. It didn’t take long to realize the choice was the right one, but also that the fury of a Dragon may have been preferable to what they found.
A long corridor headed north before switching back south to open into a colossal chamber. As the adventures rounded the turn the walls hummed with the sonorous bass of a voice birthed in the rumbling at the heart of a hundred volcanoes,

“Mortals! You have chosen wisely to bring me the holy Orb of Silvery Death directly. You shall be rewarded with swift oblivion. Minions bring them too me!”

It didn’t take the exceptional hearing of Volo or Stelios to hear that the far corners of the demiplane were being mobilized. The party rushed into the room, an unorthodox plan taking shape. If the dimensions of the chamber didn’t minimize the adventurers what sat at the rear of the chamber did. Taking up the far wall completely was a massive throne sculpted from living flame encased in a glass shell. Seated here was a titan of swirling fire and magma, Imix, the archomental of fire, thought by most as only a legend, a being who commanded the loyalty of even the most elder of Elementals and Efreet. Across his lap lay a ruby studded greatsword of equally mythic proportion. Clinging to his leg like some pet or familiar was the half-Medusa Maliskra, her taloned fingers clutching the key to the party’s escape – the Orb of Oblivion. Between them lay The Second, his liquid cocoon steaming, though if the aquatic beast felt any discomfort its alien visage betrayed no emotions.
Neither side missed a beat, a volley of spells and arrows crashing into each other. Volo moved quickly with the party’s plan, using the adamantine rod to seal the exits with impassable fields of force. They were trapped in the throne room of an angry Demigod, but the hordes of the Fire Node were locked out. Circe’s fingers crackled with power as she hurled bolts of pure lighting at her foes, the energy jerking and arcing from one and the to the other. Cassius and Grayzon charged The Second, each shrugging off spells they would have been afraid to name only days before. Stelios and Saskia pelted Maliskra with arrows careful not to get close enough to meet her deadly petrifying gaze. Imix snapped his fingers and the room erupted with fire so intense it breached even Cassius’ protective magic.
Circe continued to pour it on until the air around her was bitter with the tang of ozone. Electricity cascaded through Imix though he barely seemed to notice. His underling was not nearly as fortunate. The Doomdreamer’s body went rigid and convulsed as the second electric charge passed through her frame. Her body collapsed and the snakes that made her hair twisted themselves into agonizing knots.
Once Grayzon and Cassius reached The Second, the Aboleth tried to push them back with its dark and powerful prayers, but the duo were like warriors possessed. Grayzon’s axe met little resistance, spays of slimy ichor and lost tentacles in its wake. Cassius closed his eyes, and swung his mace with every once of strength his sinews could provide. There was a splash as the bludgeon displaced The Second’s watery cocoon, and then a grating crunch as the weapon filled that bubble with bits of skull and alien brain matter. The architect of the Recovered Temple was destroyed.
Imix paid no heed to his fallen servants. He strode to the middle of the room, swinging his greatsword in an ever expanding arc. If fortune had turned a poison eye to Grayzon earlier she felt compelled to make up for her spite now. Weaving and dodging a blade that was twice as big as his own body Grayzon stood toe to toe with a legend unscathed. His comrades were not as lucky. The blade bit deeply into Cassius and would have brought him low were it not for the favor of Pelor. It seemed that nowhere in the room was safe from the reach of his mighty weapon. Saskia tried to withdraw, but the Elven archer could not get away. When Imix’s sword found her it nearly sheared the Ranger in twain.
The battle’s early victories were giving way to despair. It was apparent to Circe and Stelios that as hard as it was to admit, that this was a foe they could not defeat, but perhaps it was a battle they could win. A desperate plan was hatched. The pair cloaked themselves in invisibility hoping it would be enough to deceive the creature they faced. Distracted, revelling in the slaughter of heroes, Imix didn’t notice as Circe cast a spell, allowing her and Stelios to step though a doorway in space that led to the other side of the room, past Imix to Maliskra’s corpse. As quietly as he could, trying to keep his hands steady despite the gravity of the situation, Stelios pried the Doomdreamer’s dead fingers from the Orb of Oblivion.
As soon as he had it he whistled the single for the party to bunch together, a seemingly suicidal move against the lethal pendulum of Imix’s sword. Overconfident in his inevitable victory by the time Imix realized what was happening it was too late. Circe and Stelios stepped back through the dimensional doorway to where the party had gathered. Joining hands in a ring Stelios touched the forehead of the Orb of Oblivion, making contact with the Gem of Fire.
There was a flash and the whiff of brimstone, and suddenly the party were standing on the tiled mosaic of a pointed star where Burne, Rufus, Varachan and the others were waiting. In spite of the pain, in spite of the sacrifices, an overwhelming sense of relief washed over the adventurers. Not only had they stopped the Doomdreamers, they had defied a Demigod and survived to tell the tale. Without any words a spontaneous cry of victory went up, one so heartfelt and genuine even the Canoness couldn’t resist.

Maliskra was literally bred by the Cult for her position as liaison between the creatures of the Fire Node and the Doomdreamers. Born from a Medusa mother and Salamander father she combines the features of both, the upper half of her body favoring her mother’s heritage. Maliskra’s eyes are smoking embers that transform any who meet her gaze into statues of solid obsidian.

Maliskra was slain while serving her master on the 18th of Goodmonth, CY 594.

It is clear for those few who encounter Imix and survive that ‘the Prince of Evil Fire Creatures’ is no empty honorific. Imix is fifty feet of living flame and boiling magma given humanoid form, dwarfing even the most elder of Elementals. In battle the Prince obliterates his foes with the legendary ruby studded greatsword The Unmaker. By any measure of power Imix is a Demigod.
Some sages speculate that Imix began life as one of the four mortal avatars of Tharizdun in the prehistoric time before the Dark God was imprisoned, transforming into what he is today when he and his fellows fled to the elemental planes to escape the wrath of the Gods.

And the battle raged on. Though both sides had suffered losses, the Cultists were too fanatical in their devotion to their dark God and the adventurers were too dedicated to seeing them wiped out. The fighting had grown desperate and at this point neither side sought or was prepared to give quarter. So the battle continued.
Volo, his magical power exhausted and his transformative abilities taxed to their limit, knew there was little more that he could do. The Druid returned to his original form and tossed Y’Dey a powerful scroll – one that had the power to raise the dead to life. The Canoness rushed to the side of Grayzon’s corpse and began the incantation that would call the warrior back from his just reward in the afterlife. There was work to be done here.
A glowing aura settled on the Dwarf, sinking into his body like water to a sponge. Without warning his eyes flicked open and breath came sputtering to lungs that were silent only moments ago. While Y’Dey and Cassius used their healing magics to repair the damage wrought to his body, Circe gibbered in magic induced madness and Volo dodged Thuchos Nalred’s spells.
In short order the party were ready to strike back. Cassius used his cloak to veil himself, Grayzon and Rufus in invisibility, so that they may slip past the hungry animate altar. The trio ran up the steps and past the altar unmolested only to run full tilt into a wall of pain separating the sanctum from the rest of the temple. Agony wracked the adventurers’ bodies with such an intense wave that it set blood vessels to burst. The area was enscorcelled to prevent intrusion from those not of the Cult’s faith, in much the same way Hedrack’s room in the Outer Fane had been protected.
Rufus drew his blade and engaged Thuchos while Cassius and Grayzon charged through the illusionary Demon Queen and wall. On the other side they came face to face with a different kind of horror. An enormous ichthian creature, levitating in a bubble of cloudy brine. It was the beast that Kella had warned the party of – The Second. Now that it was engaged The Second let loose with the magics it had been saving since the battle began. Magics especially devastating to a group of already injured warriors. Grayzon lashed back, slashing at it with his axe, but as blade rent through bubble on its way to scaly flesh, a portion of the polluted water splashed out with a life of its own. It pooled on the ground, rising and taking a rough humanoid shape, until it congealed into some kind of horribly tainted Water Elemental.
Between The Second’s spells and the Elemental’s pounding both the Aasimar and the Dwarf’s endurance was being tested. Grayzon in particular had only just returned from beyond the eternal boundary and had no desire to return so soon. The pair withdrew into one of the sanctum’s side chambers, Grayzon covering their retreat with his shield. There, Cassius could work his healing magic while Grayzon covered the breach.
Seeing his work undone, Thuchos stalked across the chamber towards the Dwarf, demonic hand outstretched, ready to deliver another lethal dose of necrotic energy.
Before the sinister talons could reach their target Circe managed to shake off the enchantment that befuddled her. Fingers and lips blurred with a sudden burst of speed as she intoned the a last ditch conjuration. The ground of the sanctum erupted with dozens of black, rubbery tentacles, snaring and constricting the evil Cleric fast. Feebly, the wings of his magic helmet beat the air, but escape was impossible from the spell’s steely grip.
Now it was Grayzon’s turn to deal death. With Thuchos immobilized the Dwarf’s axe found its mark time and time again. Though his revenge came quickly, it was not unappreciated. Soon after, Grayzon brought similar justice the the Water Elemental. By the time Grayzon flicked his blade clean, Cassius’ divine channel to Pelor had healed most of their wounds. Rufus, Grayzon and Cassius repositioned themselves and prepared for The Second’s attack, for the monster was a thing of muck and slime and moved unhindered through Circe’s creations.
With a gesture of its tentacle a wall of fire leapt from floor to ceiling between it and its foes. Cassius and Rufus were still abjured against the touch of flame and could move through it with impunity, but Grayzon had no such protection and was badly burned in the conflagration. Once again the Dwarf was forced to withdraw to a safe distance, wishing for once he could face an opponent in a straight contest of arms. Rufus and Cassius did exactly that, hammering on the beast with their weapons. Fortunately further penetration of The Second’s bubble brought forth no more opponents.
Meanwhile Y’Dey and Circe worked to disenchant the Aboleth’s spells, but they were achieving only small successes. Incredibly Cassius and Rufus seemed to resist nearly every magic the monster hurled at them, until, like his enemies, he was forced into melee with flailing, slime coated appendages. The Second wasn’t near death by any means, but the creature had seen enough to know that victory had slipped through its tentacles. If the unholy mission of the Recovered Temple was to be salvaged, there was work to be done.
Using its long reach to unfurl a scroll outside of its briny bubble, The Second intoned the words of power written therein. The geometries of space around the creature began to bend and fluctuate. Convex alternated with concave until the friction tore a hole between the dimensions large enough for the scaly bulk of The Second to slip through.
Before the party could take another breath, the long forgotten Air Elemental, who had taken Lareth’s body into the opposite side chamber suddenly burst from the curtain that concealed it as if it answered some unheard summons. It had spun itself into a whirlwind, and in its twisting, cyclonic body it carried the corpse of the Champion of Elemental Evil. It sped past the assembled adventurers, sucking up Rufus, Cassius and Grayzon and whisking them down a far hall before the rest of the party could react.
With the desperation of cornered animals the three men swung their weapons as they were buffeted by the Elemental’s winds. They had a growing suspicion of where the creature was dragging them. It was impossible to tell who had hit what in the maelstrom, but all later agreed that fortune had guided the weapon. Down a long corridor of red stone worked with cavorting creatures of flame in relief the Air Elemental dissipated, depositing its contents mere feet from the rune covered mosaic that opened the portal to the Fire Node. Before giving anything else the chance to abscond with Lareth’s remains, the trio used magic and alchemist’s fire to burn it to powder and scatter the ashes as best the could.
The hardest fought battle in the adventurers’ lives was finally over, and what was more it had been won. Cassius used what little strength he had left to smash the black altar and avoid being drawn into its depths. Y’Dey pleaded with St. Cuthbert to breath life once again into the broken body of Saskia and her prayers were answered. The rest of the party collected what bounty they could from the slain Cultists. The gold, gems and magic of the Doomdreamers were now theirs, but there was little that could satisfy after the hardships the party had faced. So in spite of their weakened condition they set off to explore the rest of the complex in search of greater plunder.
Among other things they found the lair of The Second, a huge glass tank guarded by his mutant servants, fish-like humanoids known as Skum. In a crumbling hidden part of the temple level the party ran afoul of the ghost of Senshock, who drove the adventurers away with telekinetically hurled boulders and balls of fire. Barely escaping the apparition with their lives, the party’s treasure sacks suddenly seemed of sufficient weight to satisfy their avarice. Regrouping with Burne and the others, the group left the Temple to their hidden camp in the nearby Gnarley Woods.
It was here that Vikiastra parted ways with the party. Her companions were saddened at her leaving, for they would not have been able to make it this far on their journey without the aid of Celestian, but they understood that her duties could be ignored no longer:

“It is high time I retreive the body of my Father and returned with it to the observatory in Mitrik. I have avenged his death and helped you deal a fatal blow to the dark forces he pledged his life against. He has waited long enough to join with the Wanderer on the Far Horizon. Though it pains me to leave you now my duty cannot wait any longer.”

With that Vikiastra began the journey back towards Hommlet, escorting the near catatonic captive Circe had rescued from the altar away from the site of his strickening.
Before settling in for the night, the adventurers uncorked the bottles of exceptional Furyondian wine they had found and quickly drained them in celebration of the victory they had achieved. It was strange gulping such a vintage between half-chewed mouthfuls of dried rations, but such was the life of adventurers. The gold of a kingdom could pass between their fingers and yet they often found themselves in conditions that would make the most grizzled beggar balk.
A full day was spent resting, somewhat guiltily, knowing that Stelios waited for them trapped in the Node of Fire. There was no point in rushing to him though, battered and exhausted as they were. The time was needed for magic to be replenished and wounds to heal, or the party wouldn’t be in a position to save anyone.
Just before sunrise the next day the encampment was ambushed by a quartet of invisible Elementals with exceptional tracking ability. They were slain, but not before seriously injuring both Spugnois and Burne. If there was any question before whether the Wizard’s group would join the adventurers in the Node of Fire it had been answered.
As the sun climbed towards noon the adventurers broke camp and once more headed into the Recovered Temple. This time there was no sentry guarding the burned farmhouse. No Elemental monstrosities waiting for them in the twisting passages. The only things to note were the large number of rats and other carrion eaters drawn to the carnage in the Greater Temple, and a large black square of silk which had been draped of the vile looking silver horn in the sanctum. In spite of the eerie emptiness the party resisted the urge to search for more treasure. They were here for one thing and one thing only.
Following the trail the Air Elemental had taken the party travelled the long red corridor to the room that held the mosaic symbol of fire, an eight pointed star. Each large stone set into the floor bore a rune, but the party were hard pressed to decipher them. Circe, Cassius and Volo wove spells of protection over the party, taking care to ward against heat and fire. Closing into a tight formation, the explorers held their breath and stepped into the mosaic symbol.
There was a peal of thunder and the adventurers were overcome with the vertiginous sensation of falling a great distance, though they felt no movement. There was a jarring sensation and the room was no more, replaced with a dark stone chamber with many doors. It was hot, so hot that even magically protected it was hard to breathe. There was a dull red throbbing glow coming from cracks in the stone, giving the impression that magma pressed in on them from all sides. Disoriented, their senses were whipped into focus when the largest Salamander they had ever seen slithered into view, iron spear at the ready. Battle was joined.
Just then one of the doors flew open and Stelios sprinted in. He was haggard, his hair glued to his scalp with sweat, dark circles under his eyes. Out of breath, he hissed a warning, throwing his weight against the door to close it behind him:

“I think the Giants are on their way!”

In life Senshock was the High Lord Wizard of the Temple of Elemental Evil. While Hedrack served as the emissary of Iuz, Senshock was the demoness Zuggtmoy’s representative in the Cult. Little did he know that which he served was only the pawn of a much darker power. Senshock was slain by the Heroes of Hommlet when the Temple was sacked in 579 CY.
Now Senshock’s spectral form, still bearing the livid wounds of his demise, is cursed to wander the lower level of the Recovered Temple. Though ghostly, he still carries his magic staff, and wears high collared ochre robes. The top of his head is bald, but long grey hair spills from the sides to join his twisting beard. Here and there patches of a malignant fungus have taken root.

The creature known as The Second is an Aboleth, a nightmare monster out of Oerth’s prehistory made flesh. Superficially The Second looks like a huge, primitive bony fish – only with three eyes and a quartet of slimy tentacles instead of pectoral fins. Its bestial appearance conceals a great, if alien, intelligence.
The Second has spearheaded the Cult’s operation at the Recovered Temple, and although his race is amphibious, floats through the complex’s underground halls in a mobile bubble of mucus filled brine.

The Second joined his God in oblivion on the 18th of Goodmonth, CY 594.

It was the greatest battle the party had ever faced. Great as in massive – in scale, in carnage and in cost. The adventurers had been in too many fights to count, but this was all out war. As the minutes dragged on fatigue, rage and battlefield confusion erased many of the fight’s bloody details, but a few of the scenes that played out in the savage drama were impossible to forget.
Over a dozen Hobgoblins and Ogres were choked to death by the toxic fumes of Circe’s poison cloud as they moved to defend the Greater Temple, but her magic could not stop all the reinforcements. It wasn’t long before the Doomdreamers Thuchos Nalred and Estallion arrived with a pair of strange tentacled monsters whose hard shells looked like stalagmites. A moment later the red garbed Halfling the party had seen keeping watch at the ruined farmhouse appeared. There were so many enemies the adventurers feared they would be overrun. Volo even contemplated using the powers of the Orb of Silver Death to help stem the tide, but his companions dissuaded him. No good could come of using such an evil artifact, no matter what it promised.
As the battle progressed, the mass of armored Ogres and Elementals formed a wedge, splitting the party into two groups. Circe, Saskia, Volo and Vikiastra on one side of the altar and Grayzon, and Cassius on the other. The air was thick with spells. For the first time Circe, Cassius, Volo and Vikiastra found themselves outnumbered as Estallion, Thuchos, Elmo, Yether, and the red Halfling matched them dweomer for dweomer. Circe and Saskia fell victim to a spell of madness, babbling incoherently and lashing out at friends and foes alike. Cassius was poisoned by the touch of Estallion, and the Halfling in red seemed to have an endless well of enchantments with which to harass and befuddle Grayzon.
Slowly the ranks of armored Ogres and Elementals were beginning to fall, but not quickly enough for the two halves of the party to reunite. Vikiastra was forced to take to the air with a spell of flight in order to avoid the crushing blows of the iron construct. Volo surrounded himself with a scorching nimbus of fire, but found that the flames only seemed to heal the strange magical creation. Left with few options he transformed into an eagle and flew to the other side of the room, where Grayzon and the Druid’s summoned Arrowhawk had destroyed the construct’s twin. That left only only Circe and Saskia, both victims of the Doomdreamer’s mind-bending magic. Held in the grip of madness they were unable to escape. Circe was protected from most of the enemies attacks by a veil of invisibility, but the Ranger was not as lucky. From the air, Vikiastra tried desperately to heal Saskia, but her magics did little in the face of the iron giant’s crushing onslaught. The party watched in desperate horror, helpless, as the automaton pummeled Saskia into a lifeless pulp with mechanical efficiency.
Unfortunately she was not the first to fall. As Grayzon sprinted across the chamber to avenge his fallen comrade he was intercepted by Thuchos. Grayzon had stood his ground against the first construct but he was left badly beaten and bloody. With a touch of Thuchos’ demonic hand Grayzon was enveloped by black energy. In his injured state he was in no condition to defend against the baleful necrotic energy the towering Cleric conjured forth. The Dwarf collapsed, his skin turning black and shrivelled like a mummy’s, his axe clutched firmly in his cold, dead hand.
The surviving adventurers doubled their efforts, tapping previously unknown reserves of strength and endurance. Slowly the rest of the Ogres and the strange tentacled aberrations fell, but each sword-stroke, each incantation, hid a growing sense of hopelessness in the adventurers. Two of their party had fallen; how long until they joined them on the other side of life?
With desperation taking hold the adventurers decided that when dealing with Elmo and Yether they could no longer pull their punches. Whatever sorcery had enspelled or possessed them there just wasn’t any time to deal with it. Though it left a bad taste in their mouths, the party turned its deadly attention on their former allies. Fortunately their was little cause for their guilt. As the creatures fell, their forms twisted and convulsed. The corpses left behind would have no place within Hommlet’s cemetery. Though they looked like men from the neck down, they had the heads of vultures with mad red eyes. Disturbingly, the digits of their taloned hands bent the wrong way, giving the beasts an otherworldly aspect.
Cassius and Vikiastra saw the dwindling numbers of the enemy as an opportunity to escape, but Volo and Circe would hear nothing of it. The had come this far, and fought this hard, they weren’t about to give up. More importantly, they knew that they could not leave the bodies of their friends in the Doomdreamer’s evil clutches if there was to be any hope of reviving them. So the remaining quartet fought on. When Volo had exhausted his store of magical energy he transformed into a mighty Dire Bear to fight tooth and claw.
Circe decided it was time to try something different. Before they had descended to the lowest level, Burne had woven a spell that had telepathically linked their minds. Bridging the gulf that separated them, Circe’s thought reached out and asked for aid. A few moments later, Spugnois cut a passage through space, stepping through the portal into the room with Rufus and Y’Dey in tow. As much as the party had derided the retired adventurers’ previous foray into the Recovered Temple, and as much as they hated to admit it, the arrival of the trio was the turning point in the battle. With the infusion of fresh troops, the war once again seemed winnable.
Y’Dey felled the final Elemental. Cassius and Rufus slowly whittled the iron construct that had killed Saskia into a pile of corroded scrap. Circe invoked a mass of writhing, ebony tentacles that snared Estallion in their crushing grip. Even as his ribs were broken the madman cackled with glee, spitting blood. Like a wounded Hyena he limped away from the attack, only to be finished off by the Canoness and Vikiastra.
Thuchos knew that the tide had turned against him. Using his magical helmet he retreated deeper into the sanctum of the temple, behind the evil altar with its madly flailing appendage. Left alone, the Halfling summoned a terrible Demon to aid her. Normally such a netherbeast would have been cause for concern, but Volo had fully embraced the bestial nature of his new form. He knew that to survive he would have to abandon fear. Like a force of nature the Dire Bear plowed headlong into the Demon, knocking it to the ground and falling on it with slashing claws and snapping teeth.
The Halfling slunk over to Vikiastra, pinning her arms behind her back in one lightning fast move. To the Cleric’s horror the little creature began planting forceful, lusty kisses on her captive. Whatever it was, the lady in red was no mortal Halfling. Her grip was like steel and her kisses were so cold they froze the life out of whatever they touched, leaving the skin a numb ashen gray. If it weren’t for her protective wards, Vikiastra feared this creature’s power would have her soon joining the ranks of Grayzon and Saskia.
Thankfully the limits of Vikiastra’s protections were not put to the test. Outnumbered, the summoned Demon was soon returned to the Abyss, but the rage of Volo was not yet sated. The Dire Bear plucked the diminutive fiend from Vikiastra as one might take an apple from a low hanging branch. The creature struggled in vain and tried to teleport herself away, but there was no escaping Volo’s blood soaked grasp. With a monumental roar of triumph, muscles straining and cording beneath their sheath of fur, the Druid tore the monster in half.
All that remained was Thuchos and whatever had created the illusion of Zuggtmoy behind the altar. It was the greatest battle the party had ever faced… but even though many minutes of exhaustive fighting had passed, it was not yet won.