Previously...
Like, actually died.
A giant scorpion poisoned him, the Temple of Tyr charged 5,500 gold to bring him back, and Merrick bitched about the bill. Then they went BACK to Sokal Keep.
There, our four idiots fought off a small army of orcs and hobgoblins sent specifically to murder them, discovered another message from the mysterious asshole calling himself The Boss, and learned that whoever was coordinating Phlan’s enemies apparently had spies inside New Phlan. They also discovered the diary of one of Sokal Keep’s former defenders. According to it, the last priest of Tyr, Ferran Martinez, had some sort of terrible last resort for protecting the fortress.
Which was interesting because there was ALSO a mysterious ghostly priest hanging around the keep.
Probably unrelated. Probably. Or not.
Aldren spent most of his time saying hello to ghosts and somehow making them disappear, while Merrick spent approximately nine hundred fucking hours searching walls for secret rooms that apparently did not exist. Eventually, the party gave up and returned to New Phlan with Sokal Keep technically still uncleared.
Merrick was fine with this.
Aldren?
Not so much.
We now return to As The Phlan Turns.
“What do you mean, ‘Fuck Sokal Keep’?” Aldren asked.
Merrick stared at him. “I mean just that. FUCK. SOKAL. KEEP.”
Aldren tripped over his own words. “But... but... we haven’t CLEARED it yet, like the Town Council asked us to—”
“And fuck them too! Right up the ass with a ten-foot fucking pole!”
Lucian opened his mouth. “Technically, I don’t believe the human body could accommodate an object of that length without significant—”
“Not helping, ‘Magic Man’!” Mara said, stepping between the two bickering heroes. “Look, Merrick IS an asshole, but he does have a point. There’s simply nothing there! We spent HOURS combing that place.”
Lucian nodded. “She’s right, Aldren. Besides a few disappearing spirits, we simply do not have anything else to go on. We need a new lead. Only then should we return.”
Merrick pointed at him. “Yeah! What Lucy said!”
Lucian sighed. He wasn’t fighting it anymore.
Mara studied the group. “You know, there MIGHT be another alternative here.”
Aldren looked up. “What do you mean?”
“Well, the only things left there to ‘clear’ are the ghosts, right? Why don’t we go back and just... ‘clear’ them?” She made air quotes when she said “clear.”
Aldren didn’t get it. “Right, but we don’t know how to ‘clear’ the area!” He made his own air quotes.
Merrick sighed. “She means kill them, dumbass.”
“What?! We can’t just KILL them! And I think they liked me. Especially the priest.”
Lucian glanced at Aldren. “Do you mean Father Ferran Martinez? He is an incorporeal being devoid of most normal biological functions and possibly emotion, simply performing whatever purpose has bound him to this place.”
Aldren looked hurt. He contemplated Lucian’s words for several seconds.
“No. He liked me.”
Merrick patted Aldren on the forearm. “Of course he did, big guy.”
And so, our brave heroes returned to Sokal Keep. Well... After selling that hammer they had found.
It turned out to be a Hammer +1 worth 1,250 gold. Nobody wanted it. Merrick called it stupid. Little did they know that a certain someone who could have used it was about to join their party.
“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Merrick said as they stepped off the boat.
Aldren shook his head. “This is suicide! And wrong! And probably against some sort of law!”
“Hey, at least you didn’t die! Well, truly die! And then have to be brought back.”
Lucian glanced at the thief. “Say, Merrick, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
Merrick looked over suspiciously. “What?”
“What did you see after you died?”
Merrick stopped walking. Everyone else stopped too.
Aldren’s eyes widened. “Oh! That’s a good question!”
Merrick stared into the distance for a moment. “First there was darkness.” Aldren leaned closer. “Then there was this bright light.” Even Mara looked interested now. “And then this old man appeared.”
Lucian raised an eyebrow. “An old man?”
Merrick nodded solemnly.
“He told me getting into the afterlife would cost 5,500 gold.”
There was silence.
“So I told him to go fuck himself.”
Mara started laughing.
Merrick shrugged and continued walking. “Next thing I knew, I was back in New Phlan.”
Lucian stared after him. “That is not remotely how death works.”
Merrick shrugged. “Hey man, I just calls it like I sees it.”
And so they made their way back to the defiled temple and the ghostly priest they had previously encountered. Aldren still wasn’t sold on the plan. There HAD to be some option here that didn’t involve murdering a dead priest.
Then it hit him.
“Guys, I think I have a way—”
“DIE, GHOST FUCKER!”
Merrick screamed and slashed his silver dagger straight through the ghastly form of the old man. Father Ferran Martinez immediately went from friendly neighborhood ghost priest to considerably less friendly neighborhood ghost priest.
“Blast it!” Lucian yelled as the spectral figure closed in.
Aldren drew his broadsword. “What?!”
“I forgot to memorize anything useful against an undead spirit.”
Mara rolled her eyes. “I’m surrounded by idiots!”
Merrick pointed at her. “Well, how about YOU then?! You got anything magical we can use against this thing?”
Mara kept quiet. She had not prepared anything either.
Lucian cast Stinking Cloud anyway, just to feel useful. Unsurprisingly, filling a room with magical fart gas did absolutely nothing to the incorporeal undead priest. Mara tried Turning Undead. That also did absolute dick.
And Father Ferran Martinez? Well... He drained the fuck out of their levels.
For those keeping score, this was the same bullshit the spectre had pulled in the last episode. Ferran touched you, and entire levels of hard-earned experience simply disappeared.
Merrick managed to slash him with his silver dagger. Ferran reached straight through the thief in return.
Merrick staggered backward. “Did that fucker just make me dumber?”
Lucian backed away from the ghost. “Technically, he reduced your accumulated adventuring experience.”
“So yes?”
“Yes.”
“FUCK!”
Ferran floated toward Aldren.
Aldren swallowed. “You know, I still think you liked me.”
Ferran reached out. Basically, the entire party was fucked. And died. Horribly.
Moments later...
They stood outside Sokal Keep. Again.
Merrick looked around, then at Aldren. “Still think he likes you?”
Aldren frowned. After a brief return to New Phlan and the revolutionary tactical innovation of memorizing spells that might actually be useful against the creature they intended to fight, the party returned.
This time, Mara came prepared with Protection from Evil while Lucian opened up with Magic Missile. And suddenly? Father Ferran Martinez couldn’t hit shit.
He surged toward Mara. Missed. Went after Aldren. Missed. Tried Merrick. Missed again.
Merrick actually started laughing as he slashed into the ghost with his silver dagger. “Oh, you don’t like THAT, do ya, ghost fucker?!”
Aldren looked uncomfortable. “Do we really have to taunt him?”
Merrick, mid-battle—I shit you not—mimed pulling out an invisible rulebook, read it, put it away, and said, “Yes.”
With Ferran unable to touch them, the fight quickly became less terrifying supernatural nightmare and more four assholes beating up an old ghost. And eventually... The ghost was vanquished.
Honestly, I was surprised. I either got really fucking lucky with the rolls or severely overestimated just how difficult this battle was going to be once everyone was properly prepared. Either way... I won.
Fuck ghosts. The party gained around 500 experience points each and absolutely nothing else. No gold. No equipment. No treasure. Probably because we weren’t actually supposed to kill Father Martinez. But whatever.
“See?” Merrick said, sheathing his dagger. “Piece of cake.”
Aldren stared at him. “We died.”
“First try doesn’t count.”
“We ALL died!”
“Practice round.”
Lucian rubbed his temples. “Technically, our second attempt was dramatically more successful due to proper spell preparation and—”
“Practice. Round,” Merrick repeated with a big ol’ grin.
Mara looked around. “There were other ghosts here before.”
A few moments later, they barged into the room where the other spirits had previously appeared. Merrick immediately started slashing wildly at empty air. “HIYA!”
Nothing. He tried again. Still nothing.
Merrick slowly lowered the dagger. “Um. Seems pretty quiet in here.”
Lucian stepped inside. “They’re gone.”
Mara crossed her arms. “So killing Martinez did something after all.”
“If he was somehow binding the other spirits to the Keep,” Lucian said, “his destruction may have allowed them to pass on.”
Aldren smiled. “That’s nice.”
Merrick stared at him. “We brutally murdered your ghost friend and somehow you’ve turned this into a heartwarming ending.”
“Well, if he’s finally at peace—”
“I stabbed him twelve times.”
Aldren ignored him.
And so, after several trips, one actual death, multiple complete party wipes, approximately eleven thousand hours of wall searching, a small war, an undead priest, and more poisonous wildlife than any reasonable fortress should contain...
Sokal Keep was finally cleared. Later, back at the town hall...
The town clerk looked pleased. “With Sokal Keep in our hands, we can use boats to bypass the barren river. Here is your reward.”
Each member of the party gained an astonishing 1,962 experience points. EACH. Oh, and a few hundred platinum.
Merrick stared at the money. “I take back almost everything I said about Sokal Keep.”
Aldren smiled smugly. “See?”
“I said ALMOST.”
Before they could celebrate too much, the clerk got serious and shit.
“I must bring to your attention the following concerning Valhingen Graveyard. The undead are crossing the river in hordes and killing or carrying off our settlers. The Council demands these attacks be stopped. A generous reward is offered.”
Merrick’s smile disappeared. “Undead?”
Mara smiled. “Generous reward?”
Lucian looked between them. “Interesting that each of you focused on a completely different portion of that statement.”
Besides this titillating news, the clerk also mentioned that Bishop Braccio of Tyr had requested an audience with the party. They were to meet him at Tyr’s Temple. And, if that wasn’t enough, they could also earn some wages clearing a large group of thieves from Kovel Mansion.
Suddenly, their dance cards were full. They were no longer the nerds standing on the sidelines—they were honest-to-god adventurers now!
Either that or they were the only four people in New Phlan stupid enough to be doing all of this.
Merrick counted the jobs on his fingers. “So... haunted graveyard, rich people’s mansion full of thieves, or mysterious church business.”
“Graveyard,” Mara said immediately.
“Kovel Mansion,” Merrick replied.
Aldren frowned. “The Bishop specifically requested to see us.”
Merrick looked at Lucian. “Come on. Be reasonable.”
Lucian shrugged. “The direct summons from Bishop Braccio would logically take precedence.”
Merrick stared at him.
“Traitor.”
A few short moments later, the party found themselves in Bishop Braccio’s study. Standing beside the Bishop was a grisly-looking motherfucker named Dirten. He was praying.
Bishop Braccio gestured toward him. “Dirten is bound to recover the temple which has been desecrated to Bane. Go with him across the river and help him cleanse the temple. In payment, you may keep the hidden treasures.”
Merrick’s eyes lit up.
“Fuck yeah.”
Aldren elbowed him.
“What?”
“You can’t say that in front of the Bishop!”
Merrick looked at Braccio, then back at Aldren. “Fuck yes, Your Holiness?”
Braccio said nothing. Lucian closed his eyes.
Dirten stepped forward, standing impossibly straight. “The servants of Bane have befouled sacred ground for far too long! By Tyr’s righteous hand, we shall cast them from the temple and restore justice to the land!”
There was silence.
Merrick leaned toward Mara. “I think they found you a new boyfriend.”
Mara slowly turned her head. “I will kill you.”
Dirten smiled warmly at her. “Fear not, sister! Righteous anger, properly directed, can be a powerful servant of justice!”
Mara stared at him.
“I will kill him too.”
“FOR TYR!” Dirten exclaimed.
And so, Dirten joined the party. Before leaving for the Temple of Bane, Merrick was feeling rather experienced, so they stopped at the training hall. Merrick Sorne had reached level 6.
The thief walked out looking particularly pleased with himself.
Aldren smiled. “Congratulations!”
“Thanks.”
Mara looked him over. “You don’t look any different.”
“I’m more skilled.”
“At what?”
Merrick smiled.
“Crime.”
With everyone rested, healed, and spelled up, they returned to the docks and discovered clearing Sokal Keep had opened several new travel options.
Merrick rubbed his hands together. “Alright, Dirty. Where we off to?”
“Dirten.”
“Right. Dirty.”
“DIRTEN.”
“Where we going?”
Dirten pointed north. “We must travel through the Wealthy District to reach the Temple of Bane.”
Merrick immediately perked up.
“The Wealthy District?”
Dirten nodded. Merrick looked at Aldren. Aldren immediately knew that look.
“No.”
“What?”
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to.”
The party took the boat north of the river into... drumroll The Wealthy District.
Merrick looked around. “You know, it would be a shame to waste this guy on JUST the Temple of Bane.”
Aldren stared straight ahead.
Merrick continued. “He could probably help us clear this area too.”
Aldren’s mouth fell open. “What did you have in mind?”
Almost immediately, Merrick fell through a doorway to the south.
“Whoops!”
The door slammed open, surprising a small party of orcs. The orcs stared at them. The party stared back. Then the orcs immediately attacked.
After easily dispatching the handful of monsters, the group found themselves standing among the bodies of the orcs’ previous victims.
Aldren looked over the corpses. “Oh... wow.”
Dirten gripped his mace. “These creatures have butchered innocents! This evil cannot be allowed to spread unchecked! We must make them pay in the name of Tyr!”
Merrick slowly smiled. “Oh, absolutely. I mean, look at this place. We can’t just walk away knowing these poor innocent people were murdered.”
Aldren narrowed his eyes as Merrick put a hand over his heart.
“It wouldn’t be right.”
Mara looked at Lucian. Lucian quietly shook his head.
“You are correct, good thief!” Dirten raised his mace. “It appears the evil has spread even into this Wealthy District! We must take care of this scourge as well!”
Merrick pointed at him. “He’s a true hero, Aldren. Go on, look at him. Take it all in!”
Aldren sighed. Somehow they had convinced him.
And thus began Merrick’s brilliant new strategy: use Dirten to clear as much of Old Phlan as humanly possible before actually taking him to the place he had joined the party to clear.
In another room, they encountered several goblin slaves cowering in a corner.
“Please don’t kill us!”
Everyone stopped. Oh shit. Dice roll time! There were now FIVE party members, which meant... 1d5! Hey, we got a shiny new NPC, and his opinion matters!
Naturally, Mara wanted to kill them, Merrick figured they might have something useful, Lucian considered them potentially dangerous, and Dirten considered their service to evil reason enough to put them down.
Guess who the holdout was? If you guessed Aldren... you’d be right.
1 = Let Them Go
2–5 = Kill ’em!
I rolled. Holy fuck. A 1.
Before anyone could move, Aldren stepped in front of the goblins. “No! I will NOT let you butcher these poor creatures!”
“They’re goblins,” Mara said.
“They’re unarmed!”
“They’re still goblins.”
“They surrendered!”
Merrick leaned around Aldren. “Do any of you have money?”
The goblins shook their heads. Merrick lowered his weapon. “I’m suddenly less invested in this.”
Dirten stepped forward. “If they truly repent their service to darkness, perhaps Tyr’s justice may yet be tempered with mercy.”
Mara glared at him.
“Mercy is never weakness, sister.”
“I’m not your sister.”
Lucian studied the terrified goblins. “They pose little immediate threat. Releasing them may also provide us with useful information.”
Aldren nodded vigorously. “Exactly!”
Mara groaned. “Fine. Whatever. Let the little fuckers go.”
As the goblins hurried toward the exit, the last one stopped and turned. “To enter the Temple, you need a holy symbol of Bane.”
Merrick raised an eyebrow. “Symbol of Bane? Say, Aldren... didn’t we leave one of those behind because we had too much loot?”
Aldren sighed. “Yup. That did happen.”
Merrick smiled. “Your fault!”
“How was that MY fault?!”
Not long after, they encountered four orcs whose shields bore a black hand on a red field. It took roughly six seconds before the party massacred them.
Merrick began searching the bodies. “Hey! Look!”
He held up several leather symbols.
Lucian examined one. “A black hand upon a red field. Yes. These are holy symbols dedicated to Bane.”
Merrick grinned. “See? Aren’t you glad we explored first?”
Dirten stared at the symbol with disgust. “Yes! Clearly Tyr himself has guided our steps! We shall cleanse this foul district of the evil that has befallen it! Then, and only then, will we have earned the right to cleanse the temple!”
He raised his mace.
“ALL IN THE NAME OF TYR!”
Merrick stared at him.
“Yeah, sure, buddy.”
They explored on, fighting the occasional small group of orcs until they found themselves standing before a large mansion covered in crudely painted black handprints.
Merrick stared at it. “So... evil cult mansion?”
Lucian nodded. “That would be my assessment.”
Merrick smiled. “Evil cults usually have treasure.”
Dirten raised his mace. “Then let us purge this den of darkness!”
Mara rolled her eyes. “For Tyr?”
“FOR TYR!”
“I fucking hate him.”
Inside, eight guards immediately attacked them. Mara hit the two most dangerous-looking assholes with Hold Person, Merrick introduced both of their skulls to sling stones, and the rest of the fight was over quickly.
They searched the mansion. Then another building. Then another. And another. Nothing. Eventually, Merrick stopped in the middle of yet another completely empty room.
“For a place called the WEALTHY District, this place ain’t got shit.”
Aldren looked around. “Maybe everything valuable was taken when the city fell.”
Merrick looked personally offended.
“How DARE you say such horrible things!”
As it turned out, the Wealthy District contained surprisingly little actual fucking wealth. What it DID contain were dead people, orcs, Bane symbols, and more than enough evidence that whoever controlled this part of Old Phlan wasn’t particularly interested in keeping up the property values.
“Be not discouraged,” Dirten said. “For you have already done much for Tyr by helping me fight back these evil minions of the dark lord!”
Merrick looked at him with genuine sympathy. “Have you always been like this?”
Dirten smiled. “My faith has guided me since childhood.”
“That answers the question.”
Dirten’s eyes lit up. “Hope and prayer are all you need!”
As he walked away, he failed to notice Aldren grabbing Merrick’s wrist. A gleaming dagger was already in the thief’s hand.
“No,” Aldren whispered.
“Let go.”
“No.”
“He won’t shut up.”
“No.”
“I’ll make it quick.”
“Merrick.”
“Fine.”
Finally, after what seemed like hours of walking and doing absolutely nothing besides the occasional bit of orcish butchery, the party approached a massive, shadowy temple.
An ancient blind orc stood outside with eight armed guards. Everyone prepared for trouble. Instead, the old orc examined their newly acquired symbols of Bane, then stepped aside.
Merrick leaned toward Aldren. “So... why the fuck didn’t we just come straight to the temple entrance instead of searching this entire district?”
Aldren looked curiously at him. “What do you mean? We ALWAYS search every single building!”
“Yeah, but we usually don’t have some stupid churchgoer tripping us up every second of the way.”
Mara crossed her arms. “Look, I despise the man as much as anyone, but remember... we’re USING him to get whatever is in there.”
She paused.
“And, of course, the reward.”
Aldren frowned. “That’s horrible, Mara! He IS a man of god.”
Lucian looked toward the temple. “Regardless of anyone’s feelings toward Dirten, having another experienced cleric significantly improves our chances of surviving whatever is waiting inside.”
Merrick pointed at him. “See? Using him.”
“That is not what I said.”
“Close enough.”
Dirten walked toward them. “What are you all talking about?”
“Erm... nothing!” Merrick said. “Let’s go apply some religious wrath to these heretics or some shit. You lead.”
Dirten smiled. “Gladly.”
And with that, all five of them entered the Temple of Bane expecting the absolute worst time ever. Once inside, the sheer size of the place overwhelmed them. Well... It overwhelmed our favorite idiots.
Dirten looked completely unfazed. He muttered a prayer under his breath while gripping the hilt of his mace.
Eventually, they approached an enormous altar smeared with blood and covered in crude black handprints. Mara examined it. Lucian looked around the chamber. Merrick started checking for anything shiny.
Aldren opened his mouth. Dirten raised his mace.
“Begone, you filthy vermin! In Tyr’s name, I CAST YOU FROM THIS PLACE!”
Merrick looked up. “Wait, what are you—”
CRASH! Dirten brought his mace down through the altar. The stone shattered. Silence. Then the enormous doors to the temple flew open and in poured... Oh... About forty orcs. With bows.
Dirten immediately began casting Hold Person. “Fear not! Tyr shall—”
THWACK! An arrow buried itself cleanly into his upper left arm.
Dirten staggered backward. “—shall TEST us!”
Lucian raised both hands.
“SLEEP!”
Nine orcs immediately collapsed. Mara began preparing Hold Person as the room exploded into battle. Arrows bounced off stone. Swords clashed. Orcs rushed forward over the bodies of their sleeping comrades.
Merrick barely had time to react before a blade plunged into his chest. His eyes widened. “Oh... fuck.” He collapsed into a pool of his own blood.
“MERRICK!” Aldren screamed.
Mara didn’t lose concentration. She aimed Hold Person at the blue-robed orc and two of the creatures nearest him. All three froze.
Aldren ran toward Merrick and dropped beside him. Some good old-fashioned combat medicine later, the thief was stabilized.
Lucian kept throwing Sleep into the horde, dropping another fifteen or so orcs and turning half the room into Phlan’s most heavily armed slumber party.
Aldren stared at the bodies. “Holy shit! Keep doing THAT!”
“I am trying!”
Dirten tore the arrow from his arm. “FOR TYR!”
Mara smashed an orc across the jaw. “Say that one more fucking time!”
Aldren immediately began chopping through the sleeping and held orcs like a fucking woodchipper.
That’s when Dirten went down about one second later, a sword catching him across the back of the neck and spraying blood across the nearby stone wall. Lucian managed to get off a Stinking Cloud before an orc barreled into him and slammed his frail body against the wall. He collapsed into a pile of robes on the stone floor.
Now only Aldren and Mara remained conscious. Aldren stabilized Lucian while Mara crouched beside Dirten. She stared at the bleeding cleric for just a moment, considering her options.
Then she remembered there was a reward involved. “Goddammit.” She begrudgingly did the bare minimum necessary to keep him alive.
A sea of angry orcs surrounded them.
Aldren raised his broadsword. “Well...”
Mara tightened her grip on her flail. “If you say something inspirational, I swear to Bane I’ll kill you myself.”
“I was just going to say this looks bad.”
“Oh.”
Aldren looked around. “This looks bad.”
“Yeah.”
They fought, and for a while, they actually held their ground. Then Mara took a brutal blow to the back of the head and collapsed.
“MARA!”
Aldren somehow managed to bandage her before the remaining orcs closed around him. Sleeping enemies began stirring. Held enemies started moving. Aldren was bleeding profusely, his armor torn and his sword arm barely able to stay raised.
“You know,” he muttered, “I don’t think this is going very well.”
It wasn’t. Everything went black.
PARTY WIPE.
Temple of Bane: 1.
Our heroes: Fucking zero.
Moments later...
Dirten opened his eyes. Everyone was alive. His wounds were gone.
“BY TYR!”
Mara groaned. “Oh, fuck.”
“Our righteous lord has returned us to life!”
Merrick looked around. “No. This just happens.”
Dirten stared at him. “What?”
“We die all the time. It’s no big.”
Lucian adjusted his robes. “The exact mechanism remains unclear, but complete party mortality appears to result in—”
Dirten raised his hands toward the heavens. “A MIRACLE!”
He turned toward the altar. “Clearly Tyr has granted us another chance to cleanse this profane place!”
Lucian’s eyes widened as Dirten raised his mace. “Wait, before you—”
CRASH! Dirten destroyed the altar. Again. The doors flew open. Again. Forty angry orcs poured into the temple. Again. Merrick stared at Dirten.
“I fucking hate you.”
This time, at least, they knew what was coming. Lucian immediately started dumping Sleep spells into the horde while Mara locked down the blue-robed caster with Hold Person. Orcs collapsed by the dozen.
For a minute, it actually looked better. Then Merrick went down. Then Dirten went down. Then Lucian ran out of spells, threw a dart at somebody, and promptly got fucking flattened. Which left...
You guessed it. Aldren and Mara. Again.
“You noticing a pattern?” Mara yelled.
Aldren blocked another sword strike. “YES!”
“Any ideas?!”
“KEEP FIGHTING!”
“I walked into that one.”
Somehow, the two of them kept going. Aldren carved through the sleeping and held orcs while Mara patched him up with Cure Light Wounds and eventually downed a healing potion herself.
For just a few glorious moments... It looked like they might actually pull it off. Then the sleeping orcs started waking up. One. Then another. Then several.
Mara stared at them. “Fuck.”
Aldren looked over his shoulder. “That’s not good.”
“No shit!”
Mara went down shortly afterward. And once again, Aldren stood alone—bleeding, exhausted, and surrounded.
He raised his sword. “You know, I’m beginning to think smashing that altar might be a bad idea.”
Everything went black.
PARTY WIPE #2.
Temple of Bane: 2.
Our heroes: Still fucking zero.
Moments later...
Dirten’s eyes snapped open.
“BY TYR, I LIVE AGAIN!”
His gaze immediately traveled toward the altar. He stood, raised his mace, and— WHAM! Mara hit him in the back of the head. Dirten collapsed. Everyone stared.
Mara lowered her flail. “Seriously. Fuck this guy.”
Aldren looked down at the unconscious cleric, then at the altar, then at Mara. “It’s not often I agree with you, Mara... but on this one, I agree.”
He paused.
“Fudge this guy.”
Merrick giggled.
Mara stared at him. “Did you just say fudge?”
“Yes.”
“While standing inside a temple dedicated to an evil god surrounded by the memories of two complete massacres?”
Aldren shrugged. “I don’t like swearing.”
Merrick started laughing harder.
Lucian crouched beside the unconscious Dirten. “I do believe we need a plan. We are clearly not going to overcome the forces summoned by destroying the altar this way.”
Merrick looked around the temple. “I don’t really care how we accomplish this task. As long as we get paid.”
Mara nudged Dirten with her boot. He groaned. “Good. He’s alive.”
Aldren frowned. “You hit him pretty hard.”
“He was about to kill us all for a third fucking time.”
Lucian stood. “Perhaps our immediate objective should be determining whether destroying the altar is actually necessary.”
Everyone looked at the enormous blood-covered shrine, then at the unconscious Dirten.
Merrick sheathed his dagger. “So... we search the temple first?”
Aldren nodded. Mara smiled. Lucian sighed. Dirten remained peacefully unconscious on the floor. Finally. A plan. Probably.
Next Time On...
Somewhere inside the temple are supposedly hidden treasures.
Merrick heard that part.
But first, they need to figure out how to cleanse a Temple of Bane without Dirten murdering everybody in the name of Tyr.
Again.
FOR TYR!