The party stands, shivering, in the altar chamber. In addition to the palpable sense of evil here, there is a feeling of age: a thin coating of dust covers everything. No feet have tread this chamber for some time. The utter silence of the place begins to get on the party's nerves, and they hurriedly busy themselves with exploring the place.

The room is largish, about forty feet in diameter, roughly carved from the stone itself. On the east wall is an archway whose edges seem to shimmer slightly. Looking beyond they see a corridor of naturally-eroded rock. They recognize this corridor as part of the extensive warren they discovered earlier beyond the crypt. They then deduce that this archway must be some sort of one-way gate; that it can only be passed through from the side exiting the altar chamber. None of the adventurers are anxious to test this theory however, at least not until they've explored further.

Vangkor fires up a detect magic spell, and explores the various objects in the chamber. The altar, unsurprisingly, radiates extremely strong transmutation magic. The column also radiates strong magic, of a conjurative variety... however, the column's aura is indistinct, and seems to emanate only from the midsections of the figures carved upon it. It's almost as if the aura were coming from something inside...

Catching on quickly, Minaret carefully searches the column, being mindful of magical wards. The column is identical in appearance to the smaller statue the group discovered in the room above the obelisk chamber: each of the four sides is carved with a representation of four iconic adventurers: a fighter with black armor, a cleric with green robes and a mask very similar to the one found in the courtyard above, a red, hooded rogue, and an indigo-colored wizard with a scepter. Minaret finds no traps on the column, but each of the four figures on the column has a secret compartment with an item within. Inside the carving of the cleric is found a skin-covered black drum; the rogue hides a set of silver chimes; the wizard reveals a bronze brazier with incense; and the fighter guards a small, spherical object that the party recognizes: a bead of force. The latter is carefully tucked away by Vangkor; the rest is studied at great length as the party tries to figure out what they might be for.

Vangkor, with his specialization in sonic spells, soon thinks of an idea. "It seems more than coincidental that two of these four items produce sound. Thus it would stand to reason that if we wish to determine what these are for, we will need to use them. Since each of these four figures appear to represent a member of the classic adventuring party, I propose that each representative of the corresponding professions from our party use the items."

Richter looks less than thrilled at the idea. "I have no desire to even touch that foul drum, much less beat upon it, calling who knows what out of this evil place." He looks upon the black, human-skinned drum with distaste.

Ian and Fletcher are similarly unenthusiastic. However, Minaret agrees with Vangkor, and together they persuade the others that it is the only way they will learn what the instruments are for. Eventually the group's curiosity overcomes their fear and distaste. As the others move as far to the edge of the room as possible, Vangkor carefully places the brazier upon the ground next to the altar, and using a tindertwig lights the incense within. It immediately sparks into life, sputtering and flickering with an eerie purple light, almost like a firework. The party holds its breath... and when nothing immediately smites them, Minaret nudges Richter, who reluctantly begins beating the drum. The sound is huge and hollow; each beat seems to reverberate through the entire complex, almost as if some entity were beating on the very moathouse itself. Then Minaret steps forward and strikes the chimes once, sharply. Instead of a merry jingle they produce a sonorous gonging noise, almost like a church bell heard from far away. As the echoes die off, there is a solid thud, and the ground seems to shudder beneath their feat. At the same time, a glowing golden eye swims into view in the center of the altar. The eye balefully stares at the party. Fletcher's jaw drops, Ian reels on his feet, Vangkor shudders, and Minaret drops the chimes with a clang: each of them sees reflected in the eye themselves being consumed by an unholy purple-black fire. Only Richter manages to avoid looking at the terrible vision. He casts the drum aside and yanks the others away. The drum's echoes fade, as does the horrible eye, but the damage has been done. All of Richter's companions have suffered a loss of health or mind. Richter shakes his head, hoping that from now on his companions will show a bit more respect for obvious relics of evil. However, perhaps in defiance to their experience, the others gather up the items, stowing them as deeply into their packs as possible, before beating a hasty retreat through the archway. They almost expect the archway to stop them, but they only feel a mild dislocation as they pass under it.

Shaken as they are by their experience, it takes them a while to negotiate the confusing warren of tunnels back to the crypts. The then remember that the Torch of Revealing was left behind when they were transported to the altar room. Though none are anxious to return to the evil cold of the obelisk, they do not wish to leave the item behind for others to find and possibly use. They make their way to the room with the pit, and, after donning their winter clothing for protection from the intense cold they know awaits them, they descend carefully down the ropes. As they climb down, they experience a bout of dizziness; it appears that the boards they lay down as protection atop the obelisk are spinning. However, once they reach the top and begin descending the second rope down, they realize what is happening: the entire obelisk is slowly rotating, still balanced like a pin upon the pillar below. Massive and ominous, a contradiction of all that is sane, it turns in complete and utter silence. This is by far the most disturbing thing the party has yet seen, and they can't help but wonder if by their actions in the altar room, they have awoken something best left sleeping...

* * *

The group hurriedly grabs the Torch of Revealing and beat a hasty retreat from the moathouse. The sunlight seems dazzlingly bright after the cold dark of the moathouse dungeons, and the party gladly turn their faces to the sky in welcome. Fletcher, however, looks to the ground, and is dismayed to spot a fresh set of bootmarks upon the dusty ground of the courtyard. The tracks lead up the main steps and then out again. Worried, Fletcher follows them back to the group's wagon. Though the wagon was carefully hidden, the tracks lead directly to it, and there the party's fears are confirmed. The cage, which housed many of the artifacts the party had recovered from the cultists, is empty. It hangs mockingly open over the back of the wagon, its lock expertly picked. Luckily, the horses do not seem to have been disturbed, and none of the rest of their gear has been touched.

Fletcher quickly and expertly searches the ground around the wagon. There is a large square mark on the ground where someone must have dropped the heavy statue with the figures upon it. He then spots an obvious trail leading back towards the road. Knowing full well who must have been here, the group packs up their gear onto the wagon and follows Fletcher, who leads them slowly along the road, carefully following the tracks. The single set of bootprints quickly join up with a second pair. They reach the larger road, and there turn north. Here the party faces a dilemma: should they take the road back to Hommlet, and rest after their trials in the moathouse, or pursue the still-fresh tracks? Eventually strategy wins over comfort, and the group turns north, towards the reputedly-haunted village of Nulb... and the Temple of Elemental Evil.

The journey actually starts out a pleasant one. The temperature is a comfortable one, in the mid-seventies, and the sun darts in and out between cumulous clouds scattered across the sky like popcorn. The going is slow, but Fletcher holds on to the trail of the party's quarry. After a full day's travel, they break camp for the night, having traveled half-way to Nulb. The evening is cool, but not uncomfortable. The sky is clear, and the millions of stars shine down brightly upon the face of Oerth like an open jewelbox. Despite the calmness of the evening, the party takes no chances, and foregoes lighting a fire. They keep vigilant watch all night... but are not disturbed.

Harvester 1

The first of Harvester dawns bright and clear, with a light ground fog from the evaporating dew. The party awakens refreshed, and after a light breakfast, they resume their trek north. Fletcher easily finds the trail again, and they make good progress for a while.

As the morning wears on, the party sees dark clouds to the north, signaling possible bad weather ahead. Interestingly, the clouds do not appear to be drawing nearer; however, the road seems to be leading directly towards them. By noon the clear sky has been obscured by roiling clouds. A cold wind abruptly picks up, and the party shivers as the temperature drops at least thirty degrees. They look nervously at each other... is this a freak storm, or is something evil brewing in Nulb?

The group breaks out their winter outfits, the first time they have needed to do so outside since the previous spring. Only minutes later, a cold, pelting rain starts. The wind makes it nearly impossible for the party to shield their faces adequately; they ride with their heads bent, in unconscious imitation of Fletcher, who grimly continues to follows the trail. The group almost fancies they can hear voices in the wind, whispering, inarticulate sibilants. The cold rain turns to sleet, rattling hollowly against the adventurers' armor. The horses become nervous, whinnying anxiously. Fletcher is beginning to believe that the trail will be wiped out when the road abruptly doubles back to the southeast, and at last they come to a bridge crossing the Imeryds Run. Beyond are a small cluster of broken-down buildings made of sod, mud bricks, and old, rotten timber. No movement can be seen on the deserted streets. They have reached Nulb, the ghost town.

The party moves quickly across the bridge, half-fearing something to rise out from under it as they pass over. Of course, nothing of the kind happens... but there is something not right about Nulb. Abandoned or no, there is a presence here, something felt more than seen. Many of the buildings appear canted, as if some seismic activity made them unstable. More than once, one of the party catches furtive movement out of the corner of the eye, only to see a weather-stained curtain flailing out a gaping window, or a door blowing in the strong wind. The feeling is strong, though, that something was there, something with a sly intelligence that ducked out of sight just before they turned. They become more and more tense.

A short ways down the main street on the right stands one of the more solid buildings that they have seen, bigger than the others. It has a raised wooden porch and a wildly leaning hitching post. In barely-readable Common the faded words "Waterside Hostel" can be made out.

The party stops. None of them are sure why the hostel seems to stand out to them: whether it is because it is one of the few intact buildings left, or that they simply wish to get out of the sleet and rain for a bit. In any case, Ian and Minaret jump down off the wagon, moving cautiously towards the swinging front doors. Richter and Vangkor hold at the wagon, ready for trouble. Fletcher continues following the tracks, wanting to see whether they turn at an intersection ahead.

Minaret cautiously peers over the batwing door. The interior is dark and musty-looking, but she can spot several groups of still-intact tables and chairs, along with a long bar along one wall. She motions Ian forward, and as the two move into the hostel, Vangkor and Richter dismount and approach the building.

Fletcher reaches the intersection, some forty yards further. There he stops. The tracks are beginning to run in the mud created by the driving sleet, but he is nearly certain that they turn here, and travel down this new street running south. Knowing that the Temple of Elemental Evil must lie in that direction, Fletcher feels fairly sure that is the destination of the cultists. Suddenly the strong feeling that he is being watched seizes him. He looks up sharply, and sees a figure standing motionless at an intersection thirty yards further down, watching him. The sleet stings his eyes, making it impossible to discern features, but he can make out long brown or blond hair, and a dark cloak that flaps in the wind. When he blinks and looks again, the figure is no longer there. He looks back doubtfully at his companions, and sees Vangkor and Richter entering the hostel. Deciding that standing here alone is likely not a good idea, he hurries back towards the wagon.

Although the inside of the building is dry, all the windows of the hostel have been broken, and the keening, sighing wind sounds even more eerie whipping about the eaves. Minaret has reached the back of the hostel common room, where a rickety staircase climbs to a second level. She suddenly cocks her head slightly... was that a cry? She motions sharply with her hands as Richter and Vangkor enter, signaling them to be quiet, and stands dead still, listening. Yes, she definitely hears a voice, different from the one in the wind. It sounds like... sobbing. It is coming from up the stairs. She steps forward towards the stairs. It is then that the attack comes; not from above, but from below.

Rising from the floor appears a terrifying apparition: a translucent, ghostly form of a human male wielding a longsword. An intense chill comes with it. Minaret is horrified by the appearance, and pure instinct takes over. She leaps backwards, and the blade of the ghost slices the air where she stood a moment before. The maneuver seems somewhat familiar to her, she realizes with horror that it is the same motion that she has seen Chatrilon make when delivering a death attack. The ghost is an assassin!

Fletcher, hearing Minaret's shout of terror, sprints for the hostel. He reaches it and enters to see his friends in a deadly struggle with the ghost. Ian steps bravely forward swinging his axe, only to have it pass harmlessly through the figure. Richter calls upon the holy power of Boccob to turn the entity, but it only laughs hollowly at him. Vangkor retreats hastily towards the bar, but the motion draws the figure's attention. With a sickly grin, it abruptly dematerializes, the re-manifests behind the wizard. Luckily, the wizard dodges the deadly swing of the ghost. Ian rushes over to Minaret, shouting that he needs her magical dagger, that only its enchantment can breach the incorporeal defenses of the undead opponent. Richter tries again to turn the ghost, and still it resists Boccob's might. Vangkor retreats again, attempting to use whatever force-effect spells he can, knowing that they may be the only way of magically harming the ghost. Ian darts forward with the dagger, swings... and tears a breach in the incorporeal substance of the creature. It howls as ectoplasm flows from the wound. Fletcher, seeing that magical weapons are needed in this battle, borrows Richter's mace, and lands a blow. The ghost whirls to face him, and instead of dematerializing, moves down through the floor, resurfacing behind the ranger. The longsword swings again, and Fletcher feels the cold wind of its ethereal passage, yet manages to dart forward in time. Minaret jumps forward, rapier in hand... and pauses. Fletcher frantically urges her to attack, yet she waits. And then Ian pops up behind the ghost, dealing another gash with the dagger. This is the moment Minaret was waiting for. With the ghost's attention distracted by the fighter, Minaret darts forward and plunges her magical rapier through its cold heart. The ghost shrieks like a fetus strangling on its own umbilicus, and disperses, coming apart in tatters. The party has defeated it!

The reverberations of the ghost's death cry have barely faded when Minaret again hears the faint sobbing coming from upstairs. It sounds female... perhaps a woman has been held captive here by the ghost? Moving carefully together, the whole group climbs the steps to investigate. The stairs end in a narrow hallway with many doors, all of which appear to open to long-deserted rooms. The hallway turns a corner, and the sobbing can now be plainly heard to be coming from a door at the end of the hallway. As the party cautiously approaches, they catch other sounds from behind the closed door: muffled thumps, bangs, and the occasional tinkle of broken glass. It sounds as though things are being thrown against the walls. The violence seems odd counterpointed against the slow, steady sobbing. Ian tries the door and finds it locked. After Minaret ascertains that the door isn't trapped, Ian throws his bulk against it. Surprisingly, it holds; however, the sobbing rises in intensity, becoming shrieks. Ian launches himself at the door again, and this time smashes it from its hinges. Beyond is a dizzying sight: the entire room seems filled with flying debris. Combs, brushes, broken bottles of long-evaporated perfume, broken bits of furniture... all whirl in a chaotic pattern about the bed, which is itself bucking up and down. Sitting motionless upon the bed is a female figure, her head buried in her hands. The shrieking is coming from her. Richter steps forward, dodging the flying debris and asking the figure if he can help. She looks up, and Richter sees that her eyes are black as obsidian. She leaps off the bed, trailing ectoplasmic streamers, her face elongating hideously. Before Richter can dodge back out of the room, she rakes her claws across his face. The blow draws no blood, but Richter suddenly feels the holy power of his god being drained from him, and now cannot remember some of the spells he prayed for earlier in the day. Staggering back, he desperately calls for Boccob not to desert him. This time his call is answered. His holy symbol flashes with divine might, and with a last shriek, the female form is utterly destroyed. All the debris in the room drops to the floor. In the sudden silence the wind moaning through the open window is shockingly loud.

After the party catches its breath, they thoroughly search the room. They discover some gold hidden in the mattress, and a loose floorboard beneath the bed conceals a potion and some valuable-looking earrings. Searching the rest of the hostel turns up nothing of interest, and the party decides that they have had enough of the Waterside Hostel. Richter believes that if the creature they fought was indeed a ghost, that it will shortly reform, as the only true means to permanently destroy it would be to right the wrong which caused it to initially haunt this place. The party is not anxious to put the theory to the test, and they return to their wagon.

The sleet is coming down harder than ever, and the group feels that they are too weak to continue on towards the Temple. However, they feel that they should at least confirm that the fast-disappearing tracks of the cultists indeed lead towards the Temple of Elemental Evil. They follow them down the side street, and a short distance out of town. The tracks do not turn, and the party is satisfied. They decide to turn back and return to Hommlet.

It is then that Fletcher remembers the figure that he saw at the intersection. He tells the others, who seem concerned at the sighting. They do not remember encountering anyone bearing the description of the unknown watcher, but none of them like the idea that whoever or whatever it was seemed to disappear like smoke in the driving sleet. They decide to investigate the intersection where Fletcher saw the figure. They are actually relieved to find fresh tracks at the street corner, leading east down another side street; whatever the figure is or was, it was corporeal! They follow these new tracks, hoping to spot their owner. After a few blocks the tracks lead off the road and towards a dilapidated frame building, with a faded sign bearing the word "Herbs". Sitting on the stoop, calmly smoking a pipe in the driving sleet, is the figure Fletcher spotted earlier. Muscular in build, the figure wears no armor except bracers, against which the sleet makes light tinking noises. The hands that grip the pipe are gloved, and the figure's head is lowered, its long, blond hair covering its face. Wondering who could be willingly sitting out in this awful weather smoking a pipe, Minaret nervously steps forward. "Er, hello."

The figure is silent for a moment, and then it speaks, in a soft, cultured voice that seems to carry despite the wind. "Hello."

When nothing more is forthcoming, Minaret continues. "Who are you? Where did you come from?"

"I come from many places," the voice replies. "At this moment in time, I live here."

"Are you from Hommlet?"

A long silence. "I hate that place," the figure replies reflectively.

The group exchange glances. "How long have you been here?"

"A long time." Pause. "Ten years, at least."

"Why do you stay here?"

"I feel at home here," the voice replies. "The climate suits my disposition."

"Don't the undead here bother you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Another reflective silence. "Perhaps they are afraid I'll rebuke them."

Richter, who had surreptitiously cast detect evil earlier, now is certain that the fellow on the stoop is not someone he'd care to have as a drinking buddy. He motions silently to Minaret, making his best "evil" face, and Minaret nods. "What god do you worship?" she asks the mysterious figure.

At that the figure looks up, and the party gasps. The left half of the stranger's face is handsome and fair, if a bit pale. The right half, however, is a twisted ruin. Scar tissue runs its length, the nose is a knotted mess, the eye is pushed in, facing outward, and the mouth drawn in a permanent leer. The figure studies them for a moment, gauging their reaction. "Gods," he finally says. "Don't talk to me about gods."

At this Vangkor steps forward. "I sympathize with your pain," he says, trying his best to be diplomatic. "I, too, have had others turn with revulsion from my face. I too have been excluded and ostracized."

"Have you, now," the figure breathes softly.

"Yes," Vangkor says, unflinchingly. "While I cannot imagine what you have gone through, I can sympathize."

The figure looks away, as if disinterested. "You know nothing," he says shortly.

Minaret will not be dismissed so easily. She is intrigued by the stranger, despite his frightening appearance. "Surely," she says in her most purring voice, "you must be lonely here all by yourself."

The figure snorts. "Loneliness is for those who desire friendship. I do not. I desire only isolation, away from all people, to dwell on my fate and my place in the multiverse."

"But surely all that time alone has allowed you to accumulate many thoughts and ideas? And is it not frustrating to have nobody to share all those ideas with? I would propose a trade. Why don't we go inside, out of this weather, and we can have a meeting of the minds. We can listen to your stories, to your thoughts. And you can perhaps assist us with some of our inquiries."

The figure turns towards her, smiling sardonically, and Minaret's sultry smile falters a bit. The stranger's eyes look many years older than his face and physique would seem to imply, as if he had seen things no man should have seen. "You wish to talk. Very well. We shall go inside and talk. Perhaps you shall be more entertaining than the last pair of ignorant fools who passed through here." As the mysterious figure gets up and opens the door to the shop, the others look meaningfully at each other, and Fletcher silently mouths "Chatrilon." The name tastes like a curse.

The party follows the man inside the shop. It is somewhat spartan inside; while not dusty and wrecked like the hostel, there are few furnishings: only a table with four chairs, and an empty display case along the wall. A single door leads to a back room. The figure sits upon one of the chairs at the table, looking expectantly at the party. "So," he says. "Entertain me with this little question-and-answer session of yours."

Vangkor speaks up. "Who is the ghost in the hostel?"

"I take it you mean Wat. He was the barkeep of the hostel when the town was... well, if not thriving, at least inhabited." The man chuckles drily.

"Why does he haunt the place?"

"Well," said the man, "in its heyday, Nulb was a pretty rough place, and the hostel was in the thick of it. Something unsavory must have happened."

Minaret pipes up. "And what of the woman upstairs? The one who was sobbing."

"Ah, that would be Dala. She was a saloon girl at the hostel."

"Why is her spirit still there?"

The man looks slightly irritated. "As I said before, I didn't live here then. Maybe she contracted a social disease."

Vangkor changes the subject. "What areas of Nulb would it be wise for us to avoid?"

The man is silent a moment, thinking. Finally, he responds, "The whole town is probably less than safe for do-gooders such as yourselves. if I had to pick a specific locale, I might exercise a bit of caution around the river docks."

Vangkor studies the man. "You say you stay here out of choice. Does your isolation have anything to do with your wound?"

The man looks at him. "What do you think?"

Vangkor nods. "Yes. Even if you don't believe me, I understand how isolation due to appearance must feel. How did you become wounded?"

"Who was your mother?"

Vangkor blinks at the sudden subject change. He looks at the man suspiciously, looking for a trace of mockery. The figure is not smiling, merely waiting patiently for an answer. Vangkor realizes that the party agreed to a trade of information with the man, though this wasn't exactly what they anticipated. After a moment, Vangkor replies, "My background is somewhat different than many of my race. Where many half-orcs have one orc parent and one human parent, both of my parents were actually half-orcs." He smiles humorlessly. "You could say that I'm really more of a quarter-orc. Because of this, I was considered an outcast even among outcasts. I had to learn to live with this at a very early age."

The man nods, though whether in sympathy or satisfaction it is hard to tell. After a pause, he says, "It was that bitch. She did it. She invaded my home without provocation, and did this to me."

"Who?" asks Minaret.

"The bitch priestess," the man says vehemently. "From Hommlet." At that the party members immediately think of the one female priestess they know in Hommlet: Canoness Y'dey.

"What do you know of the Temple of Elemental Evil?" Richter asks.

"I've never been there," the man replies. "I know that hobgoblins live there now. I see them every now and again. They avoid the town... they think it's haunted." He smiles slightly at this, as if to indicate how silly the hobgoblins must be to believe such a thing.

Minaret, always seeking a tactical advantage, pipes up: "If you had to give us one warning about the Temple, what would it be?"

"What were your greatest fears growing up?" the man asks right back.

Minaret thinks a moment. "I, too, had to live with being an outcast. I exhibited sorcerous talents at an early age, and was shunned by all around me as a dangerous freak. I had to learn to fend for myself very early in my life, and my greatest fear was that I would not be able to make it."

The man nods, seemingly pleased with Minaret's story. "I only know that hobgoblins live in the Temple now. I know not how many there are, but they are numerous, and have a fairly good grasp of combat tactics. They have some sort of large animal--I've heard its screams sometimes in the night." At this the man abruptly stands. "It has been an interesting diversion speaking with you, but now I must go back to writing in my book."

"Your book?" asks Vangkor. "What is your book about?"

"It is for anyone who would care to read it. I have had a long time to think about life's many cruelties. The book is a summary of my thoughts on the matter, and what it all means. Perhaps someday, after I am long gone, someone will read it and truly understand."

The group thanks him as they leave the shop. "Perhaps we'll see you again sometime."

"Perhaps," the man says, smiling faintly. The group departs, wondering what the eccentric figure was all about, and why he was there. They leave Nulb and head back towards Hommlet. The journey to town is uneventful.

Harvester 2

The party takes care of several affairs while in Hommlet. They first head to Joman Dart's. There they sell the earrings and other items obtained from the hostel in Nulb, until Joman is tapped out (he actually has to write an IOU for Minaret, at her suggestion). Ian enquires about selling the warhammer of Durgeddin acquired in the Forge of Fury; Joman remarks that it is a high-quality item, and that it might take him a while to locate a buyer in Verbobonc. He promises to look into it. The party also stops at Spugnoirs to sell and buy their stockpile of potions. They are once again glad for the mage's friendship, getting an excellent deal (on what the mage has available... again, supplies are somewhat limited being in a smaller town).

The next task is to cure Richter's affliction from the attack of the undead woman above the hostel. The party heads over to the Church of St. Cuthbert. The priest Calmer looks almost surprised that they aren't dragging a dead body with them for once, and agrees to cast a restoration spell for the party (for a suitable donation, of course).

Finally, the group stops in at the Inn of the Welcome Wench, and there arrange with Vesta to pre-pay for a month's worth of lodgings for 75 gold pieces. They stay the night, planning to return to the Temple of Elemental Evil in the morning.

Harvester 3

The party departs towards Nulb the next morning. They encounter nobody on the road, and make camp in roughly the same area that they did on their last trip.

Harvester 4

Continuing their journey, the group once again approaches Nulb. As before, the weather turns foul and cold. They quickly move through town, avoiding the dock areas. They do not see any sign of life (or unlife) in the ghost town, but move through it as quickly as possible. They take the side road leading southeast out of town. After several miles' travel, the bad weather lessens; it seems to hang like shroud only over the doomed town itself.

The road goes on, the terrain changing from hilly, bramble-covered scrub to a more wooded area. After a while, the group spots some sort of structure in the distance. The surrounding woods are silent, almost as if hushed for fear of disturbing something best left sleeping. The party has reached the Temple of Elemental Evil.

Minaret sends soot out on a reconnaissance flight. The raven circles the building, sending back short (and sometimes cryptic) descriptions: "building", "wall", "four ugly men", "four ugly men." From this, the group confirms that the place is definitely not deserted. Deciding to take a look for herself, Minaret becomes casts invisibility and fly on herself, and goes out on her own recon flight. She sees a massive compound, easily several acres in size, enclosed by a large, stone wall overgrown with thorny brambles. A single entrance is guarded by a group of four hobgoblins, who look on-guard and alert. In the center of the compound is a huge, charcoal-gray building, decorated with arched buttresses, obscene designs, and twisted and leering faces. On the front steps before the massive double-doors are four more hobgoblins, watching both the walls and the front entrance. Getting in unnoticed through the front will not be easy.

Skirting the perimeter, Minaret finds one section of wall on the northeast side where a small grove of trees overhang the brambles. This would seem a promising entry-point for the party, as the brambles are less thick here. Flying over the wall, she sees a small ruined building near a large grove of trees behind the temple itself. She quickly investigates the small structure; the walls are mostly falling down, and the place is filled with rubble, but she does hear several growling voices coming from a small opening leading *below* the rubble. Not wanting to sound the alarm yet, she hurriedly flies away, briefly examining a partially-collapsed tower in the northeast corner. It's top is mostly broken in, but she spots an opening that looks to small for a hobgoblin, but that perhaps a small-sized creature could squeeze through. The wooden front door of the tower looks newer in construction, and fairly sturdy. Satisfied with her investigations, she flies back to the group to report.

Since it's getting dark, the party decides to make camp in the woods off the road, prepare, and make a plan of attack. They pull the wagon about sixty yards into the woods south of the road. They plan well into the night, and then try to sleep, letting the familiars do the watching. They are undisturbed.

Harvester 5

The next day dawns overcast and cool, and the party begins readying for their assault. Their plan: they will sneak in over the wall near the grove of trees that Minaret spotted. Once inside the perimeter, they will cast silence on a coin, and sneak quietly up to the ruined building. Once there, they will drop the coin over the small opening, and take care of resistance quickly and quietly. They then hope that there will be some sort of passage beneath leading into the temple.

The group gets started. They spot some fresh tracks on the road, indicating that at least one hobgoblin, along with some sort of animal, passed by along the road in the night. The tracks don't seem to deviate from the road itself, however, so the party optimistically hopes that they were not discovered.

The first part of their plan succeeds flawlessly; they are able to scale the wall near the grove of trees, and creep silently up to the small ruin. Richter casts a light spell on his morningstar, and they explore the opening leading down. It leads to a crawl cellar, where after some searching a trapdoor is located. The coin is retrieved, and quickly Minaret opens the trapdoor. Directly beneath the trap door is a female hobgoblin, who begins making arcane gestures-- in complete silence. A surprised look crosses her face, which doesn't last too long, as Ian quickly slices her in half with his axe. Two more hobgoblins below are quickly and quietly dealt with.

The area beneath the crawl cellar is a wine cellar. Unfortunately, it is empty, with no other exits that the party can find; no secret back-door to the temple is evident. The group ascends back up to the ruined building and debates its next move. They briefly consider going to the tower next, but the sight of a hobgoblin guard patrolling the east wall with a dog (who luckily doesn't spot them) cause them to decide and try to take out the guards in front of the temple before an alarm is raised.

Going over their resources, the group comes up with a new plan: they will use the wand of Change Self, taken from the tiefling cultist from the wagon, to make themselves look like hobgoblins. Richter will cast invisibility on Minaret, who will move into position between the guards at the temple entrance and those guarding the front entrance. The party will then sneak around the temple from the west, and take out the group near the temple doors. When the guards at the front gate approach the doors, Minaret will color spray them, hopefully taking care of them as well. Agreeing that it's a good plan, the party buffs itself up with spells, and sneaks through the wooded area north of the temple. The wand is used, invisibility is cast on Minaret, and the attack is on!

After letting Minaret get a lead, the others cautiously sneak along the wall of the temple itself. Up close, the building is even more vile; huge stained-glass windows depicting scenes of murder and torture frown down on the party as they pass beneath. They round the corner of the front entrance, and spot three hobgoblins... the fourth they expected to find there must be the one out patrolling the wall. The nearest hobgoblin, spotting the party, does a double-take, and demands (in hobgoblin), "What the hell are you doing here?" Vangkor, the only one in the party who understands the creature's coarse speech, replies, "Um, we're, ah, reinforcements?" And with that, the party abruptly attacks the still-nonplussed guards.

Thus begins the epic battle with the hobgoblins. Before the guards at the front door can react, they are cut down by a barrage of spells and melee attacks by the group. The guards at the front entrance, who have been watching developments closely, now rush across the courtyard, yelling. Minaret, as planned, color sprays them. However, only one of them falls to the spell; two of the others diverge their course and rush the now-visible sorceress/rogue, while the other runs past towards the entrance, shouting at the top of its voice. The hobgoblin on patrol with the dog also spots the carnage, and runs towards the front door. Richter steps up and casts entangle, trapping both the hobgoblin and his dog in a huge swath of writhing plants. The lone surviving hobgoblin continues running towards the entrance, shouting "Intruders! Intruders! Int--GLAUGH!" as he is cut down by Ian's whirling axe.

Knowing the alarm has been raised, the party spreads out, awaiting what will come next. Fletcher creeps up to the front doors... and is nearly knocked over when they slam open, revealing ten armed and snarling goblins, along with six more hobgoblins. However, Vangkor is ready. The moment the doors fly open, he lets loose a sonicball. It detonates like thunder in the midst of the enemy, who are all clustered together in order to pass through the front doors. They are blown apart like ninepins. Vangkor, Fletcher, Richter, and Ian rush into the Temple itself, while Minaret finishes off the entangled hobgoblin with her shortbow.

Now inside the temple proper, the party sees a long, pillared hall. Dim light filters through the stained glass windows. The walls inside are decorated with scenes just as vile as those depicted outside. The floor is in sections of different-colored stone, shot through with worm-colored veins. The group does not advance far before they are assaulted by a barrage of javelins hurled from hobgoblins partially hiding behind the pillars. With a yell, this second wave rushes in a charges the party. Ian, Fletcher, Minaret, and Richter dive deep into hand-to-hand combat, while Vangkor sends off round after round of energy spells. The hobgoblins are dropping like flies, and victory seems well in hand, when the third and final wave of defenders arrives.

With a battle cry, a larger hobgoblin charges forward, swinging a double-bladed sword in deadly arcs. Flanking him are more hobgoblins and goblins. Then there is a bloodcurdling roar, and a monstrous simian form lunges at the party out of the dim shadows. Its stained teeth drip shining spittle upon the floor, while its powerful arms and razor-sharp claws swing murderously: it is a dire ape. Only the party's magical protections prevent them from being rended to bits. Several times it appears that the party inflicts fatal wounds upon either the leader or the dire ape, only to hear disembodied, guttural chanting and see the wounds that they just inflicted on their enemies heal up.

The battle seems to go on forever, but finally the ferocious hobgoblin leader and the ape are brought low. Only a single hobgoblin remains alive. He throws down his weapon, raising his arms in surrender. Minaret, flushed with blood lust, ignores the gesture and makes a vicious thrust with her rapier. The hobgoblin, seeing no mercy in those dark eyes, turns and flees. Vangkor pursues the fleeing hobgoblin and dispatches him with a spell before he can get away. The party hears the footsteps of the unseen spellcaster retreating further back into the temple. Amazingly, none of the party is greatly wounded, but their resources have nearly run out. They decide that they have succeeded enough in their initial assault and decide to retreat.

They are not twenty feet out the temple doors when Fletcher spots a sudden movement from the corner of his eye: a small, round, translucent sphere is descending towards the group. The party, their nerves already tuned to the shrieking point, scatters like quail; only Richter, who is assessing what healing reserves he still has, does not react quickly enough. The sphere lands on the ground and detonates, severely wounding the hapless cleric and trapping him in a shimmering globe of force. To the right of the group the thrower of the sphere has become visible: Dunrat, the leader of the evil cultists! At nearly the same moment, the sprang of a fired crossbow is heard, and a second cleric, a woman the party has never seen before, becomes visible on the party's opposite flank.

The party reacts quickly. Ian charges Dunrat, meaning to split the evilly grinning cleric in half with his greataxe. The cleric chants and points at the fighter, who freezes in place, unable to move a muscle. Vangkor, knowing that the insane cleric must be stopped, pulls out the bead of force taken from the altar-room statue in the moathouse, and throws it at Dunrat. The cleric's eyes widen, but he leaps to the side, avoiding the blast. His evil smile drops, however, when Minaret pulls out another bead of force, this one taken from the cultists' own wagon. Her aim is true, and Dunrat is himself ensnared in the very trap he meant to capture the party in. Badly wounded, he sees that there is no way for him to escape. "The Elder One will consume all of you!" he howls, and raises his hands, glowing a deadly purple, to his own heart. His face contorts, and his body jerks convulsively. He falls to the ground, dead.

Fletcher, aghast, involuntarily steps back and stumbles over something. This saves his life, for at the same time a rapier blade materializes from behind him, thrusting through the air where the ranger had been. Wielding the rapier is none other that the traitor Chatrilon. The group reacts swiftly, itching to bring him down. However, the hateful assassin once again is too quick for them. Stepping back, he activates his wand of invisibility and disappears.

Fletcher will not give up so easily this time. He quickly looks to the ground, and sees foot-shaped depressions in the earth moving rapidly away from him. Like a bloodhound on the scent he follows the tracks as fast as he can. The others, still trying to bring down the unknown female cleric, shout to him to stop, that he's insane to face the invisible Chatrilon alone, but Fletcher seems not to hear. His normally kind features are hard with wrath and determination to bring down the villain once and for all. He follows the tracks for nearly three hundred feet before they abruptly double-back--towards the party. He has a moment to realize what this means when the deadly rapier of the assassin strikes again... and once more misses! Chatrilon emits a string of profanities, cursing his ill luck, as Fletcher swings wildly. Chatrilon dodges the blows easily, but he sees the others racing towards the enraged ranger, and knows he hasn't a prayer of survival here. As the assassin vanishes once more, Fletcher sees his expression: not one of hate or insanity, but almost one of regret...

The female cleric is eventually knocked unconscious, and the party decides that they have taken on enough for one day. They cautiously drag the bodies back to their campsite. Once there, they find that their wagon has been disassembled; the wheels have been removed, making quick flight impossible.

The group has defeated Dunrat and the hobgoblins, and even captured a prisoner... but Chatrilon has escaped them once again.

[note: thanks to Abelard from Monte Cook's RTTTOEE board for inspiration on playing the "mysterious stranger in Nulb"...]