The evening began, as these things often do, with the adventurers discussing what to do with their spoils. The Baphomet statue recovered from the tomb had caused some debate, but Lúthien's position was uncomplicated: it was evil, and therefore it must be destroyed.
Torvax, meanwhile, had begun to entertain a rather more commercial interpretation of their activities. He had heard that the more successful delvers of Ptolus maintained collections of their discoveries in Delver's Square, displaying trophies and curiosities from their adventures for the public. Some even charged admission.
The idea of a museum of their own was, therefore, placed upon the list of things to consider - somewhere between purchasing better equipment and trying not to die. Lúthien, having learned from recent experience, also spent some of his downtime improving his arsenal. It seemed increasingly obvious that an adventurer ought to possess weapons suited to more than one kind of problem.
The company's immediate plans, however, were interrupted by Brother Fabien. They had intended to follow their only surviving lead and investigate the Crimson Lotus, but Fabien arrived with more urgent news. Reverend Tebbitus, the captured Lothian priest who had been involved with the necromantic cult, had escaped from his cell. He had not escaped alone. At least one accomplice had entered the Church's dungeons and released him, while two holy women were also missing. Whether they had joined Tebbitus willingly or been taken against their will was unknown.
The Curators hurried to the dungeons and found evidence of the escape. Footprints led them down into the cellar, towards the well, where they discovered a concealed ladder descending into the darkness. The water lay far below. Sensibly, they sent Hoot Hoot, Torvax's owl familiar, ahead to investigate. The owl returned with good news: the cavern below appeared safe. For the moment.
The party descended into a cavern with four passages leading away from it. Wet footprints and signs of a struggle marked one of the routes, and they followed it north into a winding natural tunnel. As they went, Torvax began to appreciate just how alarming their discovery was. They were beneath the Church of Lothian, and somewhere below them lay an entrance to the Underdark. From a strategic perspective, this was an appalling weakness in the Church's foundations. From Torvax's perspective, it was also beginning to raise questions about precisely how much Church business fell within the remit of a freelance dwarven wizard and whether his compensation reflected the danger involved.
The tunnel eventually gave way to worked stone. What first appeared to be an ancient subterranean complex slowly revealed itself as the entrance to something far worse: a temple. Its southern chamber was guarded by enormous statues of duergar dwarves fused grotesquely with fungal growth, while strange runes surrounded a glowing symbol carved into the floor.
Torvax recognised the script as being connected to the Abyssal tongue. A number of ceramic cylinders rested in a stone rack, many shattered and spilling ash across the floor. Then a spectral duergar emerged within the glowing circle and addressed the intruders with a single question: “Name the one true god.” Torvax answered without hesitation: “Zuggtmoy.” The spirit grimaced, smiled and bowed. “Then you may enter.” Whatever the creature had intended to do to those who gave the wrong answer, the Curators were spared the experience.
The temple was dedicated to Zuggtmoy, the demon goddess of fungi, rot and decay, and the deeper they ventured, the more unpleasant its purpose became. Among the strange remains in the southern chamber, Torvax discovered a curious cold-iron bracelet covered with inward-facing spikes. It radiated evocation magic strongly enough to register under Detect Magic. Quite what the device did remained a mystery, though the party suspected that a bracelet designed to hurt its wearer was unlikely to have been intended as jewellery. Torvax would need an Identify spell before they could learn more. Beyond the western door they heard human voices discussing experimentation and prepared themselves for another encounter.
They found a grim sacristy where a corpse was being dissected upon a great stone table by three cultists. Two captive holy women were locked inside an iron-barred cage, while beside the grisly operation lurked a lesser demon of Zuggtmoy: a Situvasta, a revolting creature resembling a gigantic slug formed from layers of living fungus.
The battle was short and brutal. The cultists fell quickly, and the Situvasta was dispatched soon afterwards, but in death it demonstrated one final indignity. Its body erupted in a shower of filth, slime and offal, covering the adventurers in its remains. Lúthien, in particular, received the full benefit of the experience. He had by now acquired what could only be described as a distinctive new look. The two prisoners were freed and escorted safely back to the Church, after which the Curators returned to the temple to discover where the secret passage led.
The hidden corridor was thick with dust and cobwebs, but recent footprints ran north through it. The walls depicted ancient battles in which duergar warriors marched beneath the command of grotesque mushroom-like fiends and enormous slugs. The party noticed that the recent footprints carefully avoided one section of floor and wisely followed their example. Eventually the passage appeared to end at a solid wall, but from beyond came the unmistakable sound of chanting. A secret door was found, and Lúthien put his considerable weight behind it. The ancient mechanism groaned and the door slowly opened, giving the adventurers the advantage of surprise.
Beyond lay the main temple. Four braziers filled the vast chamber with flickering green light. A deep pit yawned in the centre of the floor, while a stone altar stood beyond it, stained with blood and gore. Great pillars were cracked and ancient, and upon the walls stood three statues of fiends. The central figure was unmistakable: Zuggtmoy, demon queen of fungi, Lady of Rot and Decay. The cultists were in the middle of some dark ritual when the doors opened, and at their head stood the escaped Reverend Tebbitus.
Tebbitus struck a gong and invoked Hold Person, freezing Lúthien in place for a precious moment, but the elf resisted the spell on his second attempt. Then something moved within the pit. A vast Situvasta hauled itself from the darkness, its fungal bulk oozing with slime as it hurled clumps of filth at the adventurers before closing upon Lúthien. The battle became a contest between steel, spellcraft and corruption. Tebbitus did not survive it. An arrow found its way through his skull, ending the priest's treachery for good. The monstrous creature from the pit followed shortly afterwards, only to explode upon death in yet another magnificent shower of foulness.
Once again, Lúthien was directly beneath it. One begins to wonder whether the gods have a particular sense of humour.
The temple yielded little treasure for the effort, much to Torvax's continuing irritation, but among the cultists' belongings the party discovered something far more important: their first Book of Chaos. Its title was Words of the Plague, and its cover was made from humanoid skin, bearing the image of a spiralling, centipede-like creature.
Within were exhaustive descriptions of disease, its symptoms and - far more disturbingly - the many methods by which sickness could be spread. The latter chapters described the teachings of the Brotherhood of the Plagueborn, a cult dedicated to spreading destruction through pestilence, filth and decay. Their methods were those of vermin: contaminating food, spreading infected bedding, poisoning wells and carrying disease into the places where civilisation was already weakest. Their temples, the book claimed, were most often found beneath cities, in sewers, waste pits and refuse heaps.
There were also songs and rituals devoted to Zuggtmoy. One, the Lullaby of Zuggtmoy's Cradle, spoke of flesh becoming nourishment for the Lady's brood. Another, the Wedding Rehearsal Chant, celebrated the spreading of her joyous spores. It was not the sort of literature one expected to find beneath a Church of Lothian, and it left the company with an uncomfortable question: how long had this corruption existed beneath the city's feet?
The Curators returned to the Church and reported their discoveries. The immediate threat had been dealt with, Tebbitus was dead, the missing holy women had been recovered, and one more Chaos cult had been broken. It was enough to earn them both rest and a little recognition.
Later that day they were visited by Reverend Sister Mara von Witten, or simply Sister Mara, as she preferred to be called. She wore simple robes over plate armour and spoke with the confidence of someone accustomed to being obeyed. She congratulated the company on destroying the cult and rewarded each adventurer with 75 gold pieces, promising another 125 if they could clear the remaining three passages or otherwise neutralise the threats beneath the Church.
There was, however, a more important offer behind the reward. Sister Mara explained that the Lay Curators were still subcontractors to the Order of the Dawning Sun. This gave them freedoms that a full member of the Order would not possess: they remained free to pursue their own ambitions and delve into whatever mysteries caught their interest. But that freedom came without the full protection of the Church. They would be paid for their work, but they would also bear the risks themselves. If they continued to prove themselves, she promised, more important (and considerably more dangerous) missions would follow.
For now, the Curators had survived another descent beneath Ptolus. They had found a temple to a demon goddess beneath the Church of Lothian itself, uncovered a cult devoted to plague and decay, slain a necromantic priest and discovered another fragment of the great Chaos conspiracy.
And somewhere in the city, their original trail still waited: the Crimson Lotus. Their next destination, it seemed, would be considerably less holy...
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