Madness at Gardmore Abbey - session 9
played Aug. 27
Your nights rest at Berrians Eladrin camp is
suddenly awaked by female screams in the distance.
It is early morning hour and the sun has just
barely risen.
The screams come from the direction of the Nymphs.
--
The area is ablaze. Trees on fire, the steam
rising from the pond.
One of the Nymphs lay on the ground burnt black
beyond recognition, with another knelt beside her,crying while cradling her.
You remember her name as “Autumn Mist” . She also
show signs of being scorched by fire.
As you enter the glade, she see’s you and crys:
“It…
it was a dragon! … we were just playing… we didn’t mean
anything”
At that point she screams again, as a large plant
creature crashes through the foliage towards her, it flails wildly . It appears to have been singed by fire as well
and is lashing out chaotically.
Temple
Suddenly {PLAYER} freezes as he spots something moving ahead. A
tiny figure, the size of a child or old woman, wrapped in a dirty white sheet.
It walks wretchedly at a crouch past the front hall deeper into the temple,
muttering to itself in a childish yet hard to place voice. You keen your ears -
the word she is muttering is “Bahamut”. She says it awkwardly, as if she had a
stroke or speech impediment; her voice at once childlike and ancient. Long
filthy strands of hair hangs down below her large white hood and in the tangles
tarnished silver effigies of dragons and knights are woven and hang limp or
drag behind her on the floor.
From deeper inside the temple comes a second
voice, this one croaking like an ancient woman. 'Time for evensong now, Calaun.
All the faithful of Bahamut, come and pay him worship! We will begin with psalm
fifty-seven.' A strange soft keening echoes through the temple, as if a deaf
old woman and a young child were trying to sing two completely different songs
at the same time.
'Vespers!' whispers Sir Oakley from outside, a
religious gleam in his watery eyes.
You peers around the corner and looks into the
heart of the temple. The tiny nun has stopped just a few paces away and kneels
on the dirty floor, bowed and supplicating and gibbering half-formed religious
words. A small pool of drool forms on the floor below her lowered head. A
second sister, this one’s white habit stained darkly with blood, hobbles by the
altar at the back, loudly croaking some psalm or other. Hidden completely by
her long white vestments she paces awkwardly to and fro, gesticulating with
dramatic arm movements as if to a congregation that isn’t there.
The rest of the temple is empty. A massive statue
of Bahamut depicted as an armoured knight dominates the centre of the hall,
surrounded by a series of alters devoted to various gods.
[Private to
Gorgolax: the southeast alter is dedicated to Pelor and some holy power still
lingers here] The largest alter to the
north is Bahamut’s and on it are several lit candles and a dead animal or two,
half-skinned and bloody entrails all slithering down the altar’s side.
The two little nuns stop instantly and turn and
peer back towards you. Seeing nothing - though sensing your location - the one
at the back calls out in a raspy voice ‘Faithful of Bahamut? Come out of your
hiding and join us in prayer. Bahamut hates those who hide – are you true
believers? Will you put your trust in the true god?’
The closest nun twitches nervously and jerks her
head under the habit. ‘Kuyutha? Is that you darling? Come back to mommy naughty
little boy’, she raves, croaking childishly. ‘Why are you dancing like that
with no clothes on? You’ll catch a chill!’
[Insight
check] These two are totally crazy.
The nuns then seem horrified looking at Gorgolax’s
chest symbol . 'What! Do you pray to the lesser deities instead of Lord
Bahamut! Never in a million years...'. They tremble in shock and surprise,
seemingly frozen to the spot. One starts up an out-of-tune psalm in a panicky
voice.
BANG! A flash of searing white light and crashing
loud noise at the altar of Bahamut, then three angelic figures appear as your
eyes adjust to the light. They hold silver swords of white light in front of
them, their expressions implacable - and intent on combat.
The mad nun Anthar is absorbed by her god-awful
singing and raises her voice, her robed
arms moving wildly like a conductor in front of an orchestra. It’s a distorted
psalm that echoes through the crumbling temple, one moment soft and quiet the
next jarringly loud
The Angels gaze mercilessly at {PLAYER} and
{PLAYER} [not cleric]
[Initiative]
With the mad nun's discordant song still ringing
distractingly in your ears,
The three angels begin their relentless assault,
all acting as one like synchronised swimmers moving in a pool: - longsword, up,
slash, back; dour look saying nothing, eyes showing no emotion; dagger, up,
slash, back; another dour look.
You search the alter carefully and after a few minutes
notice a small section of marble near the back can be pried loose. At first it
is stiff - it has not been touched for centuries - but as you pry it loosens of
its own accord as if it wanted you to open it. Behind is a small space - a
little dark nook that looks empty. You reach your hand inside and feel about,
and they touch something small and cold. You bring out a small ivory playing
card.
When you examine the other altars. These are
devoted Kord, Moradin, Pelor, Erathis, and Ioun (clockwise from the lower
left). The altar at the north end of the temple is dedicated to Bahamut. A
vestige of holy power still lingers in all these altars. A character who is a
worshiper of the deity an altar is dedicated to gains a + 1 bonus to attack and
damage rolls while standing within 3 squares of that altar (or +2 with divine
powers).
Sir Oakley looks around gingerly for the holy
artefacts he requires to cast his ritual.
Through the doors in the northeast the walls
glimmer warmly as if the walls were made of gold, and heaps of filthy cloth and
fur lie in piles on the floor. A soft white light glows from somewhere further
in the back.
The glimmering walls are caused by thousands of
gold coins pushed into the gaps between bricks. The whole area glimmers when
lit, creating the impression that the walls are made of gold. There are furs,
bloody clothes, blunt knives, piles of bones and loads of feathers on the
floor. Anyone lifting the stained habits of the mad nuns will find that they
were in fact a pair of harpies in disguise.
