Temple of Eternal Flame

"Oh hey. Yeah, we're totally here on cult business" Leopold began. "We'll just be making our way through this hall. Thanks for asking. We're fine . . .how are you?"

The guardians didn't seem convinced. Maybe it was Leo's tone, but the bard appeared a bit nervous.

"What specifically are you doing?" they pressed.

Leopold thought of the tapestry he had taken from the earth cult. "We're here to decorate! Yeah! That's the ticket!" He went on to explain how the party had been hired to spruce the place up in honor of "glorious Imix and his . . . errr, her . . . I mean, its imminent return!"

They seemed even less convinced by this story. They attacked. After the group had exchanged attacks with the guardians, a woman appeared in the doorway leading to a room to the east. Suddenly, the room erupted in fire. A fire wizard named Ignatia had joined in the combat. It was a challenging fight, but eventually our heroes got the upper hand and killed their foes.

They next discovered an ancient, abandoned library and a faint odor emanating from this dark place which held the chill of the grave. They were startled by the extreme cold in such a place. Strange mounds ran the length of the room, looking like furrows for planting.

Alexander noticed an odd looking, brown mold in the southeastern corner of the room. Curious, he lit a torch and approached to have a closer look. But when he got within ten feet of the odd substance, he had the terrifying sensation of the warmth in his body being sucked from him, as blood would be withdrawn by a leach. "God damnit!" he exclaimed before rashly throwing his torch into the center of the moldy surface. Suddenly in a flash the mold quadrupled in size, tendrilling out toward the party, engulfing them in an, extreme, life-stealing frigidness.

Luckily our gnome sorceress kept her cool, pointed a bejeweled index finger at the nasty substance and unleashed a ray of frost, decimating the mold.

Kahntun caught a draft coming from the northern end of this secret, long-lost armory. A quick investigation revealed a hidden passageway which lead to an abandoned prison cell with an unlocked door. They listened at the door, but couldn't hear anything.

Carefully, Alexander pushed it open and found himself at the end of a long hallway with six sets of doors opposite one another on either side. They listened at the door across from the cell they had just emerged from. It was hot to the touch! In fact each of the next three sets of doors had a hasp-and-pin locking mechanism and was uncomfortably warm to the touch. The last four were neither locked or warm. Leopold jammed one of the unlocked doors closed with his immovable rod. Then they kicked in one of the doors to the north. Suddenly they were in combat again. Here's what happened:

When Kahntun saw his nemesis sitting quietly and calmly at his desk with a slightly bemused smirk on his face, he drew forth his gleaming long sword, Talon, pointing it at the genasi's face and sternly proclaiming his intentions. Thermander kept his cool.

"I can see you're upset ole chap. But what say we discourse like civilized folk -- you are are obviously a nobleman afterall -- and see if we can't manage to avoid the droll unpleasantness of quarreling. Perhaps our interests align, hmm? Here, join me in a brandy, it's quite good...from Waterdeep." Alexander pushed past Leopold and Kahntun and into the room, taking the offered garnet-encrusted glass and a seat in a plush, red-cushioned chair.

"Our interests will never align, you villain. You murderer!" Kahntun hissed through gritted teeth.

"Murder? You must be mistaken. Any foe who has suffered at the point of my dagger was well beyond its rights and privileges. I am a just man. Of whom do you speak? For whom do you seek vengeance?"

"I am here to retrieve your soul for the crime of murdering my cousin, Fredlin Uthorstep."

"Fredlin . . . Fredlin, hmmm. Ahh! Yes! Dear Fredeelo! The irreproachable constable detective at Darmshall. A dear friend of mine. A shame what happened to him . . . his flame was snuffed out well before its time . . . but wait, you are a relation of his? A cousin you say? Well . . . it's his other relations you might seek your vengeance from. But now, tell me, what have you heard?"

A deep sense of doubt and despair suddenly took hold of Kahntun. He had a deep loathing for the fellow calmly talking before him, but this Thermander did seem to be -- at least at one time -- on friendly terms with our half-orc's cousin. Only those closest to the detective would even know, let alone use, his nickname Fredeelo.

Suddenly, an image and a thought, long-repressed, which had been brought to the surface by the nothic attack beneath Tresender Manor came back to Kahntun across the darkest holes within his memory. A moment from his childhood in the frozen north. A troubling suspicion. The darkest family secret. He began to sweat, feeling ill and wracked with a pulsating sense of uncertainty.

"My father, heir to the marquess of Vassa told me all I need to know. You murdered my cousin and stole a rare, valuable artifact. I have come to collect that artifact, and your life," Kahntun muttered, yet all of the fire and fury had been stricken from his voice.

Thermander countered, "is that all you need know? What about the truth? Perhaps you should return to your noble father and ask him what he knows of the true manner of your cousin's death. Perhaps your certainty of those events comes from a poisoned well. Perhaps you already know this, hmm? It was terrible what your father did to my friend in his greed and lust for power. Detaching the mighty noble Horazar from that artifact might have been the only thing that delayed your precious homeland from his tyranny. Fredelin knew this, which is why we worked together. What say you now, paladin?"

Sensing Kahntun's disorientation, Leopold jumped in. "Look. That all sounds very nice and convincing, but the fact that you are working for a cult bringing fiery destruction to the Dessarin Valley does not enhance your credibility."