At the caravan trading post, a small potion of healing slowly vanished from off Leinad’s stall counter. Without looking up from the book he was reading, the portly robed mage cleared his throat to speak.
“The last person to handle one of those potions had vampiric maggots burrow under their skin and into their intestines. They slowly devoured their body from the inside out… It only took them a month to beg for a merciful death due to the pain. The maggots kept the body alive in torment for five more years before they finally died. But by all means, girl… feel free to take the potion at your own risk.”
Within a few seconds, a slender elvish hand crept from the shadows, slowly returning the bottle to its original position.
“If you’re looking to make a little coin, little one, you may want to hang around for a moment. An escort should arrive…” The mage looked up from his book and cocked his head to the side, as if trying to hear something. “Right about… now.”
As Leinad said this, an armored human trampled his way into the wooded clearing where the caravan was set up. The human nodded to others as he surveyed the area before him. Leinad waved a hand at the noble figure and beckoned him to his stall with a flick of his wrist. Before the man could speak, the wizard cut him off with a raised hand.
“Let me guess, you are a holy war cleric of…” The mage peered at the holy symbol hanging from the armored figure’s neck. “Ah, yes… a Cleric of Heironeous… Chivalry, honor, glory, and all that. Yes, you’re in the right place. The village of the undead is just to the southeast for you to ‘clear out the evil’ or whatever you wish to call it. There’s a young elven girl hiding behind my wagon stall who will be joining you, as I’ve offered her a handsome reward. Now then, you’ll find a mage, a druid, and a halfling monk waiting near the center of town. They seem to be having some troubles with the door, from what I can tell. Anyhow, do be on your way, as they’ll need your assistance very soon.”
The black-robed mage pulled out two small baskets festooned with ribbons and colorful tissue paper. Inside, healing potions and provisions were set as gifts for the adventurers. The mage shooed the duo on their way, commanding them to hurry. As explained, the two were quick to find the town in question. A trail of bodies led the two up and around the city square to find the other adventurers grouped around a temple’s stone doors just as they were starting to shift open.
On one side of the stone doors were symbols of the sun, its rays shining all around. On the other side, the phases of the moon were etched in a circle. The carvings were supposed to represent the god of light, Pholtus, but they had been viciously clawed through, the images scratched to ruin. Introductions were made, with the explanation that Leinad had sent additional members to the party to assist in the reclamation of the abandoned town. Chord, Vincent, and Douglas were only slightly leery of these new additions to the party, having witnessed this modus operandi from Leinad before. Chamomile, Vincent’s familiar, sniffed at the newcomers with a slight wag of his tail at the elven girl. Itxtyl, Douglas’ rat familiar, gave a toothy snarl at the cleric Tyr before whispering in his master’s ear.
Chord quickly summarized the actions of the party throughout the town previously before everyone turned their attention to the opening of the temple before them. The room was unnaturally dark. The darkvision of the elves and the halfling was not enough to pierce the magical shadows. The party’s trepidation was palpable as they paused at the threshold. Tyr grunted and made a comment about an evil that needed to be purified before chanting a prayer of magic, causing his shield to glow with holy light. He stepped into the darkness, followed by Vincent and Douglas, who cast their own magical light.
Chord and Elera kept to the shadowed edges of the light as they made their way in. The temple’s main room was ornate, with marbled floors and gilded benches that sprawled on either side of the aisle toward where the pulpit should have been. The benetier near the entrance, which would normally hold a bowl of holy water, was instead a crater of unnatural blackened ash and flecks of onyx-colored crystal. Douglas inspected the fragments, finding evidence that a much larger crystal had been grown here then taken from the temple before the doors had closed.
Chord decided to investigate as well. As he flicked at the crystal crumbs, knocking one off the pedestal, bolts of necrotic energy shot out from the fragment, seeking sources of life. The adventurers jumped to defend themselves. Most were able to dodge, but Douglas and Tyr were struck by the magic, leaving cold burn marks on their flesh. Receiving more than one glare from his companions, Chord sheathed his dagger and decided to focus on something else.
Tyr moved forward, looking toward the pulpit. Instead of a stand for sermons, there was a standing golden sarcophagus, etched with magical runes in an infernal alphabet. Douglas recognized the runes from the Shadowfell. He mentally asked his familiar about the magic. Ixtyl explained that it was a dark and profane ritual, concentrating necrotic magics, but had never seen it used in this way. The familiar could only surmise that this was the source of the curse on the town.
Elena and Chord decided to search the rest of the temple. As they reached a side door, the halfling monk reached for the handle, but Elena deftly pushed him away with gentle elven fingers. She drew a small pouch from her side, pulling out slender metal thieves’ tools. With a flick of her fingers, she expertly unlocked the mechanism. Then, she popped a resin-like substance into her mouth, chewed it momentarily, and placed it over a small opening in the door handle. Looking back at the halfling with a wink, she turned the handle. As the door opened, the gummy substance took the shape of a sharp outline of the tip of a poisoned dart, but it had already become trapped in place before it could cause any harm. With a smirk, the elven rogue slipped into the next room, Chord giving a nod of approval as he followed.
In one of the other rooms, the duo found the desiccated bodies of acolytes in either corner. The once holy figures had seemingly huddled there, cowering from some unholy terror in their last moments. Elera and Chord decided to move with stealth into the next room, but before they could fully leave, Tyr and the others followed. Seeing the bodies, Tyr drew his mace and shield, cautiously approaching them. The bodies of the acolytes rose, stumbling toward the cleric.
Tyr quickly prayed to his god and drove the head of his mace through one of the zombies’ skulls with a satisfying crunch. Chord and Elera, seeing the battle unfold, shot arrows at the undead from the doorway. Vincent sent Chamomile, his familiar, toward the creatures, channeling his magic through the spectral form of his pet. In a flurry of magic and arrows, the undead acolytes fell to the ground, finally laid to rest. Tyr gave a silent prayer and offered last rites for the bodies. The adventurers continued their search, eventually returning to the sarcophagus.
Together, they determined that opening it was necessary to end the curse. Tyr approached the profane object and motioned for Elena to join him. They discovered a mechanism built into the hinges. Elena quickly disarmed the trap before stepping back, drawing her bow. With a nod from her, Tyr opened the sarcophagus. Before them stood the silhouette of what was once a human male, now wrapped in cloth bandages etched with blood and arcane runes. As the door opened, the mummy’s decayed hand shot out at the cleric, leeching life energy from him.
Tyr swung his mighty mace, smashing the mummy’s arm. Vincent, in a flash, called upon the forces of nature through Chamomile’s spectral form, sending magic at the undead priest. Douglas quickly cast a protective spell over his party members. Chord and Elera let their arrows fly, while the creature fought back, striking at the adventurers. Time and time again, the party pummeled the mummy’s frail form. With a final shot, Elera’s arrow severed the mummy’s neck, and the creature’s undead form crumpled to the ground in a heap of bones and tattered cloth.
Just as the adventurers thought the battle had ended, the mummy’s head rolled across the floor, flames igniting around it. It floated into the air, and an unholy voice echoed through the temple. “The ritual was complete. Lady Tyton was true to her word. I am now eternal. I have unbound myself from the shackles of life and death… But you have not.” The flameskull hovered high above, launching a fireball from its mouth at the party. The explosion sent Douglas and Tyr crashing to the floor, and the protective spell vanished.
Vincent, seeing his companions in danger, used his druidic powers to shift into a massive bear. In his ursine form, he charged the flameskull, crunching the skull between his massive jaws before throwing it against the marble floor. The flameskull rose once again, disoriented but still determined. It sped toward the open temple doors, but Chord raced to block its path. Vincent swatted it away, and Elena sliced at its jaw to stop its escape. Chord, with quick reflexes, slammed the doors shut just in time to trap the undead within.
As the chaos continued, Ixtyl, Douglas’ familiar, grunted as it scurried across the floor to the fallen cleric, retrieving a healing potion from his pouch. The flameskull hurled magical fire at Vincent and Elera. Elera dodged, but Vincent’s thick bear hide shrugged off the blast. Taking advantage of the distraction, Chord rushed to Tyr’s side, applying salve to the cleric’s wounds and stabilizing him. Elera, with a deft swing, struck the flameskull once more, knocking it to the ground. Vincent pounced, cracking its bones further, and Chord followed up with a final strike, driving the tip of his spear through its mouth. The flames and magic surrounding the undead dissipated, leaving only the skull behind.
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