The Temple of the Three Faces Part III

SESSION 6 PART I

PCs

Talos Redwand, 4th level Conjurer
Kieren, 4th level Druid
Shaw Ashcroft, 3rd level Ranger (Justifier)
Eswin, 4th level Elven Thief
Lutien, 4th level Fighter (Myrmidon)

NPCS

Knobby Greenburrow, Halfling Cartographer

FROM THE JOURNAL OF KNOBBY GREENBURROW, CARTOGRAPHER EXTRAORDINARE

This adventure gets more hazardous and fantastical with each passing moment it seems. I again find myself praying that I see it through to the end with my head on my shoulders.

While holed up in the chamber of cursed magic, resting from our wounds, we were greeted with the arrival of a new companion. One moment we were sitting there resting, the next we were in the company of a brawny soldier with a grim look in his eyes wielding axe and shield and some other contraption slung over his back which he identified as something called a musket. Apparently the magic of the deck of cards we had used earlier had summoned this warrior to us. He didn’t seem too displeased at his beckoning, which leads me to believe that the place he was summoned from was far worse than the new predicament he found himself in.

Once sufficiently recovered from the shock of his arrival, we decided to head further into the dungeons below the monastery. Puddle, our fey companion informed us that there were two rooms down this hallway that the dancing devils avoided, both painted with the same red symbol that adorned the room we were in. He then told us he intended to scout ahead to help us out. With that, he tore open the fabric of reality with a swing of his little sword and jumped through the rift disappearing from sight.

As we cautiously moved southward down the hall, came across one of the painted doors and entered. Inside was a small room lit with candles. In the centre of the room an old man sat in contemplation. His beard tumbled to the ground about him and his skin was like aged parchment. We soon found out that he was a cursed monk still alive centuries after the monastery had fallen. Apparently, he had made vow not to leave this spot until the Three Sisters returned. He told us that the scrolls we desired were within the Library of Ages to the south, and that to gain the scrolls we sought we must pass a test. The only clue he would give us to this test was that “names are the key…for all names hold power of a sort”.

A Dancing Devil of Gwynned

We then left the poor man to his meditations and headed further south. Batty magicked himself into a bat and went ahead to scout the hallways south. While we were waiting for him to return, we were ambushed from behind. Wheezy and myself were in the rear of the group and took the brunt of the assault. I managed to turn around just in time to see a hairy, bear-like monster with bulging eyes and big padded feet dancing soundlessly down the hallway toward us. The two beasts brandished great halberds and sought to lop our heads from our shoulders. I tried to tumble backwards out of the way, but one of them caught me sorely across the chest and I fell to the ground unconscious.

When I came to, we had defeated our ambushers, but I was in bad shape. Following Batty’s lead we headed further south to the “throne chamber” of these dancing devils. We easily avoided a pit trap in front of the doors to the throne chamber and burst our way in. We were greeted by eight nasty devils and a large Bison-headed creature. A furious melee ensued. The Bison headed creature lobbed an ice blue globe at us which exploded in a blast of freezing fire that nearly took out several of our party. The newcomer, whom I took to calling Choppy, set to work eliminating the dancing devils. He took several vicious blows to his person that probably would have killed me three times over, but in the end the devils all lay dead. The Bison headed monstrosity was taken out by the combined efforts of Batty, Wheezy and Stabby.

The Ghostly Librarian

Once again, we had to rest to regain our strength, for we knew not what lie ahead in the Library of Ages. After resting, we headed north to face what lie within. We were greeted by a ghostly apparition of a librarian who demanded to know our purpose. We told him we sought the Scrolls of Prophecy which marked the end of the Fifth Age. He posed us three questions. Two we answered easily, but the third we answered incorrectly and so the knowledge we sought was denied us. The librarian informed us there was another way. Knowledge, he said is not gained without sacrifice, wisdom not gotten with the experience of years. One of us would have to make a sacrifice before he would give us the scrolls we sought.

Surprisingly, Batty stepped forward and agreed to make the sacrifice. The apparition held his hand out over Batty’s forehead, and wouldn’t you know it, but before our very eyes Batty became and old man. We mourned at the loss of his vigour, but in the end we had won the scrolls we sought. We now sit back in the throne chamber contemplating what to do next. Should we investigate the dungeons further or make a speedy retreat back to Brysgod with our prize? As we contemplate this, I can’t help but feel a desire for a warm mug of cider and one of Fudwick’s crazy tales. I don’t mind listening to them, but I’m not sure I enjoy being in one of them.