Bath Imaginable

Seven Level 6 player characters (PCs) finish their adventure in Marin’s Hold…

When last we left our heroes, they had decided to kill Judge Eamon and help Sister Jules turn Marin’s Hold toward Shune the Vile.

Yarknig reunites with the group; the priest of Shune that helped destroy Mugdulblub has been hiding in the Bone Cave with the witches.

“Take her with you,” Sister Jules offers, “she is one of Shune’s most devoted worshippers.”

The characters return to Marin’s Hold in time for the following sunset. Thanks to Sister Jules’ raven familiar, they know Judge Eamon’s routine–each evening he escorts Reeve Tarley Winters to the Church of Gede for the sunset sermon, but because he can’t stand to listen to the priest he always goes to the Crayfish Tavern to drink alone until the sermon is finished. That’s where the PCs will strike.

To get through the gate, Leledish casts a spell on a guard on duty near the docks. He opens the gates and lets the group into town before he’s released from Leledish’s grip. With no memory of the last few minutes, he wanders back to his post confused.

The PCs move directly to the tavern; the half-orcs, Auglud and Grant, make the patrons leave. Ipshroom sits in a wingback chair by the fire. Grant climbs to the rafters and waits above. Yarknig and Auglud sit at the bar, their backs to the entrance. Leledish hides in the stairwell, Röylat ducks behind the bar, and Hald Frogley waits by the door to block the Judge’s exit.

When Judge Eamon strolls into the bar and sees there’s no bartender, he pours himself to an ale. He takes a sip, and looks around.

“Where is everyone?” He asks. The foam settles on his brew. Ipshroom watches Judge Eamon’s reflection in a polished platter on the mantle. Yarknig’s eyes flicker to Auglud’s. Now’s their chance!

But Judge Eamon reaches for his blade.

Ipshroom jumps to his feet and launches a crossbow bolt straight into Judge Eamon’s chest. Grant drops from above, Röylat lunges over the bar, Auglud and Yarknig tackle Judge Eamon. Judge Eamon masterfully deflects each subsequent attack.

Hald Frogley steps forward from the shadows behind the door, lifts a wand from his cloak and uses the power of his mind to lift Judge Eamon from the floor. He telekinetically pushes Judge Eamon back into the corner of the room. Judge Eamon curses Ipshroom and Yarknig, both of them grip their heads in blinding pain.

Once Judge Eamon is held aloft by Hald Frogley’s telekinesis, the group wastes no time. Röylat drives her blade through his chest, Auglud follows with an axe to the spine, and Grant finishes the work with a whisper to Shune the Vile. Judge Eamon’s body twitches, burns from the inside out, and collapses into a heap of scorched armor.

A shadow crosses the window. Sister Jules arrives, teleporting through her raven familiar. The air ripples as she steps from the bird’s shadow into the room.

“It’s time,” she says, her silver hair flickering in the candlelight. “The Reeve must be turned to Shune.”

Outside, Reeve Tarley Winters is on his way back to the hold. Leledish stretches out a trembling hand and speaks a few words of puppeteering magic. The Reeve’s eyes glaze over. His steps falter. Under Leledish’s control, Winters walks into the tavern.

Guards gather outside, uncertain. Inside, Sister Jules presses her palms to the Reeve’s temples. Black tendrils of smoke curl around her fingers as she whispers vile incantations. When she opens her eyes again, they burn crimson.

“Reeve Winters,” she commands softly.

“Yes… my lady,” he answers.

Outside, the guards hear his voice: “Stand down! Stand down!”

In the days that follow, Sister Jules consolidates power. The Church of Gede is emptied, the banners of St. Ydris are torn down. Her witches move openly through the streets of Marin’s Hold. The terrified villagers do not resist.

The PCs meet with Sister Jules in the reclaimed chapel. She outlines their next task: “The Knights of St. Ydris are Almazzat’s tether to the Gloaming. Kill St. Ydris the Unholy, and we sever that link forever.”

She sends a company of guards north to attack the Greywall Priory. The assault is swift and merciless. The surviving knights retreat to the catacombs below, led by Inquisitor Justinia Morvin.

When the PCs descend into the candlelit basement, Justinia stands with the last of her Knights, her sword raised.

“You don’t understand,” she pleads. “St. Ydris is possessed by Almazzat. If you kill him, you free the archdemon. He is the prison.”

Röylat doesn’t hesitate; she’s come too far to stop now.

Her blade flashes. Justinia Morvin falls. Hald Frogley raises his hand, lightning crackling from his fingertips, and the remaining knights collapse to the floor, their armor smoking.

At the heart of the priory, they find St. Ydris, an ancient man chained within a glowing circle, his flesh carved with runes and bleeding endlessly. His eyes are white, he chants in diabolic and taunts the PCs to destroy him.

The party ignores St. Ydris and loots the vault of gold and relics while Sister Jules and her witches gather the Knights’ sacred texts, the last records of their order. One by one, the grimoires are cast into a growing pile.

Sister Jules steps forward and touches the saint’s brow. A flash of red light. The scent of sulfur and burning incense. St. Ydris is destroyed, reduced to ash. When the screams end, the silence of the Greywall Priory is absolute.

The Knights of St. Ydris are no more.