Monday, October 24, 2016

Sacred Stone Monastery - Princes of the Apocaverse - Session Seven







With a new mission and a concert to hold;
The heroes return from Waterdeep;
To seek an envoy with trail not yet cold;
With need of rescue from evil that does not sleep.


But the first stop was to the Church of All-Faiths;
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.

The dwarf’s name was Morgran of Clan Gorunn;
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.

Unfortunately for their current problem he was useless;
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.

Talindra sought to speak to Kaylessa about rumors;
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.

The paladin waited for the discussion to calm down;
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.

With a mug of mead shared between the three;
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.

In Beliard she had seen the caravan last;
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.

Fennle sought out the Constable Harburk;
And found him with Jalessa the butcher;
Who cautioned that the town demanded he hark;
To all the woes of recent events needed succor.

She relayed to him the worries of the Gauntlet;
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.

Ilmeth Waelvur cracked all at once;
As ever he had done in the past;
And spoke like a veritable dunce;
About Larrakh’s absence on some task.

It took little thought to understand;
That the priest whom had twisted the Believers;
Was, to those with whom he did stand;
Not regarded as among the high achievers.

Of late the constable had also heard tale;
From a local shepherd of new graves;
Appeared mysteriously out of the pale;
Approaching the hills rise like waves.

Meanwhile a small army of bards and apprentices;
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.

Elivia also sought to bring Mystra’s joy;
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.

Fennle strove against one of Tyr’s Judges;
In an expedition of the Gauntlet’s might;
And though the audience found no fudges;
The monk’s technique brought them no light.

Marle’s concert proved moderately successful;
But the most exceptional participant;
Proved to be the pickles sold by the barrel-full;
Prepared by Grund the Magnificent.

Lohn provided aid across the event;
Avoiding the spotlight like a good support;
Ensuring that the musicians were not spent;
And helping mark Red Larch as a safe port.

In the wake of this mediocre festival;
Marle turned south to speak to Vallivoe;
Seeking of the book word credible;
As to how it had come from unknown foe.

The storekeeper sought within his cluttered home;
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.

Eyeing the map with leads in two directions;
The party decided to speak to the shepherd;
Larmon Greenboot took them through sections;
To the place where four bodies were interred.

A dwarf and three humans were buried here;
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.

Lohn’s eye noted many signs;
And painted a tale of clear ambush.
A battle drawn in many lines;
Between air and earth in a rush.

The Black Earth had clearly won the skirmish;
And buried the dead according to their belief;
And Fennle noted the site lay squish;
Between the influence of each grief.

A monastery she had already been asked to scout;
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.

To Greenboot they said farewell and made North;
For the Sacred Stone monastery they sought;
Finding it as Lathander’s dawn did break forth;
They wondered with what perils it was frought.

A quick glance around found a garden;
Wherein statues of frozen horror stood silent;
With two suspicious gargoyles hidden;
But spotted out by clever use of enchantment.

The party avoided the garden entrance;
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.

The monk heard the sound of sparring within;
And risked a peek into the left-hand room;
But the Abbess noticed to Fennle’s chagrin
The blind villain not fooled by loom.

An attempt to disarm suspicion proved doomed; 
And Hellenrae dispatched her students;
To seek aid within and battle those who presumed;
To approach the fastness with hostile intents.

Of all those in the fight, Fennle was first; 
To step in action against her foe;
She reached the rear door in a burst;
And struck one of the students low.

Hellenrae followed the hero like a shadow; 
And her fists and blows struck through;
Blasting the valiant monk with a triple combo;
So that life she was barely clinging to.

Lohn had recently been studying the arcane; 
And tossed a lockpick across the room;
With an invisible hand guided by his brain;
He twisted the lock shut to bar further doom.

Talindra stepped past the locksmith’s corner; 
And engaged the Abbess’s students;
Lest Fennle be overwhelmed and they mourn her;
Against them her armor suffered no dents.

Marle took aim with her crossbow; 
And ended the life of the first foe;
Bringing him down ere he turned a blow;
And the doom on Fennle did not grow.

Another Sacred Stone Monk faced the paladin; 
And managed to cut through a weak hit;
Strength that Talindra found only thin;
A witty taunt slipped from her lips with spit.

Mystra’s chosen Elivia appeared on the scene; 
Divine magic flaring from with her verse;
Restoring a portion of Fennle’s battered spleen;
And striking the Abbess like a holy curse.
Fennle turned her spear upon the Abbess;
As her enemy complimented her growth;
And to her defense she did address;
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;
Thrice again, Fennle was struck most rough;
And now with death she had danced.

Spurred by the monk’s swift defeat;
The arcane technician launched an arrow;
Striking Hellenrae clean in a feat;
Lohn considered another trick to throw.

Talindra held her action for just a moment;
Weathering blows from the masked acolytes;
Then burst forward to Fennle’s form spent;
And with her touch the monk came out of the lights.

The Abbess disdained the paladin’s deed;
Declaring her friends made her vulnerable;
As she readied to face the warrior of ancient creed;
But for others she was still assailable.

Marle was shocked at Fennle’s sudden fall;
So used to the monk facing all;
Her bardic magic welled up into a mighty call;
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;
Blood streaming from their ears at her great note;
Though a monk struck back in a manner most fleet.

Elivia behind the bard called another word of life;
Addressing Talindra’s fading health;
And then unleashed a barrage of force like a knife;
Into the prone Abbess with no need for stealth.

By virtue of the ancient fey force in Talindra’s hands;
Fennle stepped up and turned to the Abbess again;
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;
Falling short of causing either to sink;
To the ground beset by her blows.

Near them the door previously locked;
Was shook from the other side by unknown hand;
And Lohn was called to see what stalked;
Lest they find themselves facing a greater band.

Talindra struck forth with her keen blade;
But found the blind woman an enemy nimble;
And no hit was landed by the warrior of the glade;
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;
As his attack was diverted by the Abbess’s art;
And he cursed under his breath something like muck.

A monk steps off to aid his Abbess;
Striking down the paladin from behind;
As his fellow beset the tiefling songstress;
And struck through an opening he did find.

Undeterred by her personal danger; 
The bard stared down the Abbess in her mask of tin;
And declared two words in hellish anger;
“Heat Metal” she declared as Hellenrae raised a din.

A monk broke off from facing Marle; 
Seeking to grab the searing metal from his Abbess’s face;
The burning mess of gilded tin his hands did gnarl;
And stole much of his trained grace.

Around the corner came reinforcement; 
Against which Elivia turned her attention;
Another burst of healing on Talindra was spent;
And lightning struck true without prevention.

Taking advantage of Hellenrae’s fragile state;
Fennle lashed out to snap into her jaw;
And spear through her student now quite late;
Such that both felt the approach of death’s law.

Rising from the ground like an ancient elf lord;
Talindra turned to bring the wrath of her holy smite;
Upon another foe before he could treat her as a board;
And from his face did pass away the light.

Trying to support the battered bard;
Lohn took aim but again could not hit;
As the nimble man ducked the flying shard;
He was not deterred from Marle one bit.

Through the locked door a monk declared; 
His intention to come to the Abbess’s aid;
Though against the wood door he poorly fared;
His strength strangely seemed to fade.

Marle turned to her last opponent;
Rapier missing clean past;
But the dagger Rezur did quietly rent;
His enemy’s flesh at the last.

The angry foe did not relent in face of the pain;
And rained blows upon the tiefling;
Trying to remove from his honor this horrible stain;
Of allowing the bard her spells to sling.

The new monk struck against the cleric;
But found her harder to strike than apparent;
And for his trouble he faced lightning esoteric;
His defensive efforts greatly spent.

To Marle’s defense, Fennle rushed;
Tearing asunder the monk’s body;
Her spear and fists with blood flushed;
She helped the enemy disembody.

Calling on ancient fey powers to her side;
Talindra restored her body’s force;
The Abbess coughed, she still did abide;
Until the paladin’s blade struck her life’s source.

With the other room now clear;
Lohn turned to Elivia’s opponent;
The feather’s tickling the aasimar’s ear;
The barb, the enemy’s throat did rent.

Shaking and considering his near-death state;
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.

“Oh honey,” Elivia chided him about his futility;
“You can’t outrun magic missiles.”
The necromancer’s wand embraced it’s utility;
And struck through the air like a whistle.

One last monk did remain at the door;
And Fennle surged to the priestess’s side;
From her hands a bright Kienzan did pour;
And struck the last foe with her pride.

Enraged by the apparent fall of his idol;
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.

To Lohn’s bow this last foe did fall;
Falling to the ground with curses whispered;
And leaving now silent the hall;
So that the party now considered.

When no foes did immediately appear;
By strength and by magic the scene was cleaned;
Bodies were moved from out of here;
And blood and signs of battle were screened.

Some distance away, the party did rest;
Catching their breaths and waiting for the alarm;
Yet the monks apparently failed the test;
And passed through the mystery unaware of the harm.




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