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Telkis runs out, supporting those drained of strength as he can. He wonders, briefly, if the thing can abide the light of the moon and stars and will follow them out, but mostly he just runs.

"Let us find our weapons. I know a cult that has some answering to do..." he says, glancing up at the church overhead.

Bo exits the tunnels with the others, taking a big breath of the fresh air once he is in the great outdoors again.

He nods at Telkis and his suggestion to go see the cultists, but keeps his eye on the doorway, watching behind them to see if the monster is following them as they flee.

The Labyrinth Beneath the Church of Saint Pentival, The Ashblood Colony, Gran March, Greyhawk
Day Thirty-seven. Night. Saturday, December 17th, 576 CY







Out of darkest nightmare writhes the malformed slithering horror!

Driven to madness, Jerome shrieks and sobs, hammering his fists bloody against the stone walls! But Ingrid's iron will holds. She drags the tormented paladin toward the gaping door and freedom!

The doomed heroes join the stampede in a headlong rush out of the abysmal labyrinth into the fresh air beneath a cold, starry sky!



The blasphemous thing does not follow them! The liberated prisoners see its slime trail does not approach the door. It will not subsume them into its amorphous atrocity, nor add their voices to its hellish choir of agony and sorrow.

The heinous object of Jerome's madness is shrouded in darkness and silence, and the paladin's beleaguered sanity returns. But his makeshift weapon is gone.

Above the escaped human sacrifices looms the ancient church of Saint Pentival. Solemn hymns and flickering candlelight emanate from within!


Actions?!


Map:

One square = 10 feet. H = The Horror. Lighter areas are visible, all else is from memory. Darker grey shapes on the floor are slime trails.

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Jerome
Jerome realizes what has just happened, and blushes deeply.

Thank you, Priestess. I should apologize for being so harsh with you. His tone of voice betrays his embarrassment, even in the darkness.
He begins searching the ground, looking for a suitable club.

Ingrid Esthof

It is water under the bridge. We all have our parts to play. While we may not always be proud of how we play them, our gods will ultimately judge us so I will not pretend to claim that right. We have more to do, so let's clean our slates and begin anew, shall we? We'll have need of your strength and will in the events to come, so let us join our companions and see if we can find where those...cultists...put our gear and get it back. She holds her hand out as a peace offering.

Mouser continues to stagger along in his weakened state. "Rest and finding some weapons to fight back seems in order, indeed."

His eyes dart to Jerome and his explanation on his madness. Mouser thinks nothing much of it, largely as he has experienced it all before. Some of us, he thinks, just face madness on the inside....

After catching his breath, Bo looks around the area for two things. One of them is mistletoe and the other is any animals.

If there is any luck on the latter, and they are within range, he immediately attempts magical communications.

Jerome
Jerome nods, and shares a handshake with Ingrid. His eyes are still cold.

Urdur looks around, hoping to spy some sign of mice, moles, or the like. He joins in the search for the group's missing gear.

Telkis sits on a low stump to rest and collect himself. His head hangs down for a moment as Urdur and Long Bo look for woodland creatures to talk to. He then raises his eyes to gaze on the church above.

"How are we gonna handle these cultists?" he says. "I'm not interested in slaughtering a bunch of idiots, but somehow we have to make sure they don't do this to anyone else ever again."

Jerome
Jerome hefts an oak branch, gnarled at one end. We find out why they have gotten so far from The Light. We fix that problem. We allow them to make penance for their errors. Any that do not are idiots to be slaughtered.
I suspect that thing in the catacombs is the cause of their deviance. Once we have weapons, we should attempt to destroy it, also.

The Church of Saint Pentival, The Ashblood Colony, Gran March, Greyhawk
Day Thirty-seven. Night. Saturday, December 17th, 576 CY
Freezing, clear







Beneath the looming steeple and the cold, distant stars, the escaped human sacrifices consider their next fateful steps!

Jerome's madness abates and with it, his wrath. He asks Ingrid for forgiveness and the merciful priestess offers it without hesitation.

Within reach of Ingrid's holy light, Long Bo and Urdur find old animal tracks in the dry crunchy snow near the foundation of the church. They might be possum, badger or raccoon, no doubt seeking warmth from the building.

Foregoing the sundered timber that barred the door cut into the hill, Jerome journeys to forest's edge looking for an oak branch to wield as a weapon in the manner of his sacred lord.

The excitement of freedom wanes and the icy cold gnaws their bones. Clad only in loincloths, the weary heroes will soon freeze to death in the wintry night.


Actions?!





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"Well, let's head up and see what's to be done," says Telkis, standing up and hefting the makeshift spike weapon.

"I bet they'll be surprised to see us. Maybe we can use that to our advantage..." he readies to walk up the hill before he freezes to death, pausing only to see if the others are ready.

Bo reminds the group about the temperature before quickly heading towards the closest window or door for a peek inside the building. He avoids any lighted areas and listens carefully as he approaches for any sounds he might deem out of the ordinary.

Jerome
Reconnaisance first. Jerome grits his teeth to keep them from chattering, remembering the cold-weather training at the Monastery. He circles the church, noting the entrances.

Ingrid Esthof

Out of the frying pan and into the fire? Well, at least they'd be warm... Realizing that their situation is only marginally better than it was seconds ago, she follows the others toward the building and potential warmth.

Urdur follows along with the others.

Mouser also stumbles along, with the memory of the last time they were caught out in the cold, giving him some semblance of strength to find shelter.

The Church of Saint Pentival, The Ashblood Colony, Gran March, Greyhawk
Day Thirty-seven. Night. Saturday, December 17th, 576 CY
Freezing, clear





As if in penance, the unclothed paladin circles the looming church in the icy cold night. It stirs within Jerome dread memories of how they were all carried inside:



Strangely, he and Long Bo find no windows at all (see image above). There are shadows in the walls of where windows used to be, but they have all been bricked up long ago.

Through thin cracks in the mortar high above, candlelight flickers near the center of the ominous secret church.

There are but three doors, all fashioned from heavy, reinforced timbers. Two are locked tight and the grey druid opens the third an inch and peers in.



He recognizes the vaulted ceiling from when he was borne through, paralyzed eyes facing up.

Lit by two candles, he sees the narthex of the chapel is now devoid of life. (room C:01) Warmer air, thick with incense, carries solemn hymns to Saint Pentival through the narrow gap in the doorway.


Actions?!


Map:

One square = 5 feet.





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Knowing their thief is in no state to scout ahead and feeling more stealthy than normal due to near-nakedness, Telkis enters the narthex of the chapel as quietly as he can, hugging the north wall as he penetrates to the edge of the candlelight and peers into the nave.