Blood, Plunder and D&D

  For the second time in twenty four hours, the bells were frantically tolling at the Abbey of St Ursula.  Dakhir groaned and sat up groggily. The morning sun streamed through the window of the spartan guest barracks, the l ocutor y where the companions had returned to rest late last night, after the battle with the Sea Giant. His friends were starting to stir as well, groaning and complaining the lot of threm. Except for The Sturg and the Elves. The Sturg didn't sleep at all, and the elves didn't need it the same way the other races did. "More giants?" asked Ricmo, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Does this place need saving again? Already?" "No, not giants". Tello replied, pointing over to his lantern. It burned it's normal yellow, not the bright green that signaled giants were near.  "Then what's the point of all the racket?" asked Ricmo. Suddenly the door slammed open and a novice stuck her head in the room. She was young and cle

The bell was what woke them. Tolling madly in the wee hours of the night. A single bell, splitting the night. Tello quietly poked his head out of his shell. His companions were also awakening, rubbing sleep from bleary eyes. Other then the tolling bell, the abbey seemed quiet, the locutory where they had been sleeping empty.  The Sturg shrugged from his spot near the door as if to say "beats me". He'd had been on watch, since he didn't need sleep anymore, but evidentially hadn't noticed anything unusual. "That bell seems to be some kind of alarm" pointed out Whisperleaf worriedly. "I wonder if the giants are attacking?" "Let us find out" said Tello tranquilly. He reached into his pack and withdrew a small, strangely crafted lantern and set it on the table. He pointed a clawed nail at the wick and  a red spark jumped from his fingertip, lighting it. He adjusted the wick, and after a moment, the lantern began to burn bright green, illum

  As the adventurers traveled up the river from the burned out coast, they gradually left the desolation of war behind them. The land got progressively more fertile and populated, and they started seeing the occasional crofters cottage tucked away in the rolling meadows and woodlands. The destruction that they found at the coast has mostly spared the pleasant river valley. For now. River traffic was relatively sparse but it did exist, smaller fishing boats and barges moving up and down the river, carefully giving the heavily armed jollyboat a wide berth as their occupants fixed them with untrusting eyes. Eventually, after about half a days travel, the boat rounded a bend in the quickly narrowing stream and the party saw a cluster of buildings and small dock about a quarter mile ahead. A dozen roughly thatched round huts surrounded a tall stone statue, bookended by what appeared to be a small chapel on one end and a large two story stone edifice on the other. A water mill sat along the

  Moloch "Well I guess someone here worshipped Moloch. That was an incredibly bad idea and probably ended poorly for them" stated Dakhir as he gazed at the huge demonic looking statue. "Moloch appears to have ruby eyes the size of dinner plates pointed out Ricmo. "If those are real, that could work out really well for US."  "That's problematic in many ways." Dakhir replied.  "That statue is hotter then hell, it's glowing red hot, I can feel it from here. And doubtlessly cursed in half a dozen ways." Ricmo looked disappointed. "Dinner plates. Dakhir. Ruby's the size of DINNER PLATES. That's worth some burns and some curses I think. Get me up there somehow and I bet I can pry them off, and old Moloch none the wiser." "There are three doors leading from his room, other then the way we came in." interrupted Merus. She had been carefully casing the room while the rest of the heroes had been gawking at the huge