15th of Eleasis of the year 1492
The last hours had been anything but restful. After securing themselves inside the ancient tomb and staging an elaborate, albeit questionable crime scene to cover up their battle with the mine guards, the party had barricaded themselves in, setting up a defensible position. The heavy doors had been locked with arcane magic, their only remaining escape route the northern stairwell leading back up. With their bodies battered, their magic nearly spent, and no clear path forward, they hoped for a long rest.
They did not get one.
Dreams of the Earth’s Hunger
As exhaustion finally took them, the earth itself seemed to reach into their minds. These were no ordinary dreams—they were visions, intrusive and suffocating. The monastery had buried more than just secrets, and now, those secrets whispered back.
Angelica’s Dream – Buried Beneath the Earth: Angelica twitched in her sleep, her claws curling as if gripping onto something. The ground beneath her rumbled, splitting open beneath her boots. She tried to move, to step away from the gaping cracks forming at her feet, but her armor was impossibly heavy, dragging her down like quicksand. A voice—low, grinding, like stone scraping against stone—whispered in her ears, but the words were just out of reach.
Then, hands of cracked stone and jagged rock erupted from below, seizing her wrists, her ankles, her throat. She fought back, but the more she struggled, the deeper she sank. The weight of the world was dragging her down, down, down—until the last thing she saw was a pair of hollow, glowing eyes staring at her from the abyss below.
Angelica jerked awake, her breathing ragged, fingers digging into the cold stone beneath her.
Ace’s Dream – The Puppet of Stone: Ace’s fingers twitched as he slept, gripping an invisible hilt. He stood alone on a grand stage, but there was no audience—only a cracked wasteland stretching endlessly in every direction. He lifted his scimitar, prepared to perform, but his feet would not move. He was rooted to the ground, shackled by some unseen weight.
Then, the earth beneath him split open, and massive stone marionette strings slithered from the abyss, latching onto his wrists, knees, and throat. A shadowed figure loomed at the edge of the cracked earth, watching. Its head tilted slightly.
The strings yanked.
Ace’s body jerked unnaturally, forced into motion, his arms moving not by his will, but by something greater. He could not stop. He could not resist. He could only dance.
Ace awoke with a gasp, his heart hammering, his scimitar already in his hand.
Kliedd’s Dream – Swallowed by the Labyrinth: Kliedd’s sleep was fitful, his small frame shifting uneasily. In his dream, he was running—faster and faster—through a twisting maze of stone corridors. But every turn closed behind him, forcing him deeper. The walls narrowed, closing in on his ribs, the ceiling pressing lower until it scraped against his scalp.
He clawed at the stone, desperate for an escape, but the earth did not yield. It was hungry. Then, in the suffocating darkness, he heard it. A low chuckle—familiar, amused, waiting.
Kliedd awoke with a gasp, hands clutching at his throat.
Rayek’s Dream – The Warriors Turn to Stone: Rayek lay still, but his fingers twitched as if clutching his swords. He was in battle, his ancestral warriors fighting beside him—but something was wrong. Their blades did not clash against flesh or steel, but against the mountain itself. Stone warriors rose from the ground, featureless but familiar. He swung, but his blows left no mark.
His ancestors flickered; their spirits consumed by the earth. Then, the ground beneath him collapsed, dragging him under the dust and rubble. His own echo reached for him, but he was already sinking.
Rayek awoke clutching his chest, his breath uneven.
Seraphina’s Dream – Buried in Silence: Seraphina lay eerily still, her body glowing faintly with starry light. The sky was gone, replaced by an endless ceiling of stone, pressing lower with each breath. She fell into the abyss, her voice silenced by the crushing weight. She could not breathe. She could not cast.
Then, a voice spoke, ancient and endless. It was not meant for mortals, but she felt it in her bones.
She awoke with a gasp, hands clutching at her own throat.
Yllanys’s Dream – The Road to Nothingness: Yllanys’s fingers twitched as if grasping invisible strings. He walked a path of smooth, polished stone, his reflection glistening beneath his feet. But with each step, the cracks spread, the path turning jagged.
A figure stood at the road’s end; its hands outstretched. It was smiling. Then, stone strings coiled around his limbs, forcing him forward. Step forward. Step forward. The road ended.
He fell.
And the figure waved as he plummeted.
Yllanys awoke, fingers flexing involuntarily, as if breaking free from unseen bonds.
The Sound of the Earth Closing In
As the party stirred from their nightmares, ISAC moved to the southern door, pressing his metal fingers against the cold bronze plating. His body stilled as he listened.
From beyond the door, he heard muffled shouting—frantic, desperate. These were not warriors issuing commands. This was panic.
Then—a sharp bark of orders. A scraping, dragging sound followed. Something heavy being pulled across the stone.
Again.
And again.
Then—silence.
A silence that carried weight, thick and unsettling.
Then, a new sound.
Metal grating on stone.
Then—picks. Hammers. Striking stone.
But not to build—to destroy.
The strikes came harder. Metal groaned. Rock fractured.
Then—collapse.
A thunderous avalanche of rock slammed into the door, shaking the entire chamber. The bronze bent inward, warping under the force.
Then, once more—silence.
But this time, it was absolute.
They were trapped.
And something was still listening.
With no way back, the party moved through the western door, the only remaining exit from the tomb. The arcane lock they had placed on it was now undone, the path beyond stretching into dimly lit corridors of weathered stone. The air was thick with stale dampness, the silence broken only by the occasional distant creaks of shifting rock.
The architecture shifted as they moved. Unlike the ancient dwarven tomb behind them, this area was a mix of human and dwarven craftsmanship—simple but functional, clearly built for purpose rather than beauty. The stone walls bore chisel marks of both master stoneworkers and hurried laborers, a patchwork of skill levels that suggested the monastery’s mining operations had been expanded by many hands over time. Wooden support beams, reinforced with dwarven iron, lined the tunnels, the floor worn smooth from decades, perhaps centuries, of foot traffic.
Kliedd took point, moving like a shadow, his deep gnome instincts guiding him. The corridor ahead narrowed, the walls pressing in slightly as the passage descended into the next level of the mine.
Then, the tremors began.
A faint shudder beneath their feet, subtle at first—then stronger, heavier, rhythmic. Something massive was moving.
“We’re not alone,” ISAC whispered.
Ambush in the Dark—The Blinded, Enraged Umber Hulk
Before anyone could react, the ceiling above them cracked open. A massive, hulking form dropped from the shadows, landing with an earth-shaking thud. Dust and debris exploded outward, momentarily clouding their vision.
It should have been an umber hulk—but it was wrong.
Umber Hulk
The massive insectoid creature towered over them, its eyes scarred shut, fused beneath layers of hardened chitin, as if it had been intentionally blinded. But the lack of vision didn’t slow it down. It turned toward them immediately, mandibles clicking aggressively, its movements too precise for a creature that couldn’t see.
“Tremorsense,” Yllanys muttered, realization dawning as he backed up. “And blindsense. It doesn’t need eyes to find us.”
But something else was wrong.
The creature twitched violently, its limbs jerking as if it were in constant pain. Where its massive claws should have been, jagged metal blades had been fused to the bone, twisted into unnatural weapons. Deep scarred runes pulsed faintly along its carapace—some earth magic, some something else entirely.
And it was angry.
It lunged.
The massive claw-blades came down in a flash of jagged steel, tearing into Angelica before she could fully raise her great axe. She barely had time to react before the creature swung blindly, its bulk alone enough to send her sprawling against the stone wall. Blood smeared against the rock.
“Oh, that’s bad,” Kliedd muttered, already fading into the shadows.
Rayek roared, summoning his ancestral spirits as he charged the beast, slashing into it with his twin longswords. ISAC raised his hand, attempting to banish the abomination, but the beast’s twisted form resisted the magic, shaking off the spell. “That should have worked,” ISAC murmured, eyes narrowing.
Yllanys fired off a psychic lance, causing the beast to stagger, but it didn’t fall. Instead, it twisted violently, slamming its bladed forearms into the ground. The force sent a ripple through the floor, knocking several of them off balance.
Ace, ever the opportunist, darted in with his Zephyr Scimitar, slashing deep into its thick carapace before rolling out of its reach. Angelica, wiping blood from her mouth, gritted her teeth and pushed herself up. “Alright, you ugly bastard.” She adjusted her grip on her axe. “Let’s see what bleeds under all that armor.”
She swung hard, the great axe biting deep into its shoulder, forcing black ichor to spray across the walls. The creature let out a garbled, furious roar, and then, Seraphina raised her hands, and the very air crackled with magic.
“Enough.” The fireball roared through the tunnel, engulfing the creature in searing flames. The beast let out a horrible, warped screech, stumbling backward, its metal-fused body glowing red-hot before finally collapsing in a smoking heap. A long, heavy silence followed.
“What the hell was that?” Ace muttered, wiping soot from his face.
“Something the Earth Cult has been experimenting on,” Yllanys said, studying the mangled corpse. “And they clearly weren’t finished with it.”
Angelica rolled her shoulders, cracking her neck. “Then let’s kill the rest before they do.”
Digging Through—A New Path Forward
With the western corridor compromised, the party needed another way through. The collapsed southern tunnel had initially seemed impenetrable, but Ace and Kliedd weren’t convinced.
“Why not just dig through?” Ace suggested, resting his scimitar on his shoulder. Kliedd nodded in agreement, eyeing the rubble. “Yeah. If they caved it in, it wasn’t solid to begin with. That means we can break through.” Rayek snorted. “With what? A shovel?”Kliedd tilted his head. “No. With her.” He gestured toward Seraphina.
Seraphina raised an eyebrow. “You want me to—oh.” A slow, knowing smile spread across her face. She lifted her hands, arcane energy crackling at her fingertips, and the ground began to tremble. The air thickened with planar energy, and then, with a deep, resonant rumble, the stone at the center of the passage broke apart—not from collapse, but from something rising within it.
A massive figure emerged, its form composed of earth and stone, its glowing eyes fixed upon Seraphina as it awaited her command. An Earth Elemental. Seraphina folded her arms, her voice calm but commanding. “Dig.”
The Elemental obeyed immediately, turning toward the mass of fallen rock and debris and driving its massive fists into the blockage. The party stood back, watching as the creature tore through the rubble with unnatural efficiency. Huge slabs of stone were shoved aside, tunnels reformed, and within minutes, the once-impassable passage was open once more.
Beyond the newly cleared tunnel, they stepped into what was immediately recognizable as the mine guards’ quarters—an area of functional but unadorned stone, built with equal parts human pragmatism and dwarven craftsmanship.
Kliedd exhaled, brushing dust off his sleeves. “That’s convenient.”
Finding the Prisoners
The twisting tunnels of the mine stretched before them, the air thick with dust and damp stone. The crude but functional stonework, shaped by both human hands and dwarven craftsmanship, loomed over them, the tunnels narrowing and winding in ways that made navigation difficult.
Then, ISAC and Kliedd spotted something ahead—a blockage of figures standing in formation before a locked chamber. Even from their distant vantage point, they could tell: They had found the prisoners.
The sound of muffled voices, the rattle of chains, and the harsh bark of orders filtered through the cavern. The guards had positioned themselves directly in front of the chamber, standing in tight formation in the passageway. The party could only see shadows shifting in the torchlight beyond, the size of the cells hidden from view, but it was clear that these guards were prepared for a fight.
Three Black Earth Initiates stood in front of the cells, flanking a Duergar Tough, all of them watching over the prisoners like hungry vultures. Kliedd’s voice was a low whisper. “Four targets. Too tight to maneuver. If they hold that passage, this gets ugly.” Ace grinned, twirling his scimitar. “Then let’s make them uncomfortable.”
Black Earth Monks
Seraphina had a better idea. “One last trick,” she murmured, her hands glowing faintly with fading magic. With the final moments of the Earth Elemental’s duration, she commanded it forward, sending the massive stone construct barreling toward the guards.
Duergar
The cultists barely had time to shout in alarm before the Elemental surged into the corridor, its massive bulk slamming into place, blocking their advance. The Duergar cursed, his weapon already rising, but the way forward was completely cut off. “Now!”Seraphina snapped. The fight erupted.
A One-Sided Fight
With the Earth Elemental holding the line, the cultists were forced into a bottleneck, unable to advance while still exposed to ranged attacks.
Angelica remained in an in-between position, standing at the center of the party’s formation—ready to move if needed, but watching for any signs of reinforcements. Rayek charged first, his blades flashing in the dim light as he cut into the first Initiate, driving the cultist back against the rough stone wall.
Kliedd vanished into the shadows, emerging just behind the Duergar, a blade sinking into his side before the rogue disappeared again. The Duergar grunted in pain, turning to strike, but there was nothing there.
ISAC raised a hand, and a blast of force slammed into the second Initiate, sending him staggering backward—straight into Yllanys’ waiting spell. A burst of necrotic energy consumed him, his body withering where he stood before he collapsed in a heap. The Duergar barked a command, but it was too late—they were already losing ground.
Then—the mistake happened.
The Fireball That Shouldn’t Have Been
Seraphina, positioning herself at the back, saw the opportunity. She raised her hands, and the air shimmered with fire. “This ends now,” she whispered.
The fireball roared forward, its searing heat flooding the passage—and engulfing the cultists entirely. The tight corridor left no room for escape. The fire rolled over the Initiates; their screams cut short as their bodies disintegrated into charred husks.
The Duergar barely had time to raise his war pick before the flames engulfed him, his armor turning red-hot before he collapsed into a smoking heap.
It should have been over.
Then—the screaming started. Seraphina’s smirk vanished as she realized something was wrong. The heat had rolled into the chamber beyond—the chamber where the prisoners were. From the other side of the smoke, the sounds of agony filled the air.
Seraphina’s stomach dropped as she watched figures crumpling behind the bars, their bodies ablaze, flesh seared by the unchecked fireball. Fifteen of the thirty prisoners fell, their bodies charred beyond recognition. The remaining survivors pressed themselves against the back of their cages, staring in horror at what had just happened.
The air was thick with the smell of burnt flesh.
Seraphina took a shaky step forward, her voice barely above a whisper. “No…” Angelica gritted her teeth, turning away from the scene. “We can’t fix this,” she said, voice tight. “We get the survivors out, we leave them supplies, and we move.”
Seraphina’s hands shook as she lowered them. She didn’t argue.
Aftermath—Leaving Them Behind
The stench of charred flesh and burnt iron lingered in the air as the party stood in grim silence, the faint crackle of dying embers the only sound. The prisoners—what remained of them—huddled at the back of their blackened, warped cages, their eyes wide with shock, grief, and fear. Some whispered prayers over the fallen, while others simply stared ahead, numb and unblinking.
Ace crouched beside the Duergar’s corpse, rifling through the remains of his belt until he found a ring of iron keys, their edges still warm from the fireball’s heat. He turned them over in his palm, his usual cocky confidence nowhere to be seen. Kliedd, standing beside him, let out a slow breath. “And what do we do with them?”
Rayek’s voice was sharp. “We don’t let them out.” The words came too fast, too firm, but no one argued. The cultists would eventually come back, and if the prisoners were found wandering the tunnels, they’d all be executed. Keeping them locked up, as heartless as it seemed, might be the only way to keep them alive.
Then, Seraphina frowned. Something was off. She took a slow step toward the cages, her gaze sweeping over the survivors. “Wait…” She counted them silently before turning to the others. “Where are the dwarves?”
That single question made everyone pause.
Yllanys, scanning the frightened faces behind the bars, quickly came to the same realization. “These are all humans.” A chill settled over the group. They had found prisoners, but not the ones they were looking for. Angelica stepped forward; her voice steady but edged with urgency. “Where are the dwarves?”
One of the prisoners, a gaunt woman with hollow eyes and a deep gash across her cheek, swallowed hard before answering. “They… they came and took them. Dragged them off, somewhere else.”
Ace’s grip tightened around the keys, the metal biting into his palm. “When?” “Not long ago,” she whispered. “Hours, maybe less. We don’t know where.”
The party exchanged looks—uneasy, frustrated, but mostly furious. They had come here for the missing dwarves, but they were already gone. And every second wasted here meant they were getting further away. Kliedd sighed and tossed a small ration pack through the bars, his usual smirk absent. “We’ll be back,” he muttered, though none of them were sure if it was a promise or a lie.
The prisoners barely reacted. Some wouldn’t meet their eyes. Others stared at the still-smoking remains of their burned companions, their expressions empty. Seraphina, hands still shaking, stepped forward and murmured something under her breath, a quiet apology to the dead, to the survivors, to the gods who might still be listening.
Ace, still holding the keys, said nothing as he slipped them into his belt and turned away. Without another word, the party disappeared into the tunnels, leaving behind the weight of their choices, the echoes of the dead, and the growing urgency of what lay ahead.
Through the Mines—Abandoned and Trapped
The weight of the prisoners left behind still hung heavy on the party as they moved forward, but their focus had sharpened. The dwarves had been taken deeper into the mine, and every second spent wandering these twisting tunnels meant their chances of catching up grew slimmer.
Yet, as they pressed on, something was wrong. The mine should have been crawling with cultists—or at the very least, duergar enforcers standing guard. Instead, it was empty.
The tunnels stretched farther than expected, their recently-mined sections clearly visible—piles of loose rubble, abandoned pickaxes, shattered carts. But there was no sign of life. The cultists, the duergar, everyone was gone.
Except for the traps.
A Labyrinth of Traps
At first, they were small nuisances—a loose rock triggering a minor collapse, sending a harmless cascade of pebbles down from the ceiling. But the further they went, the more frequent—and more dangerous—these traps became. Ace was the first to spot thin tripwires stretched across an otherwise clear path, woven expertly between wooden supports.
Kliedd scowled. “They had time to set these up while we were resting.” Seraphina, still haunted by the prisoners she had burned, tightened her fists. “They weren’t expecting us to make it this far.”
Rayek grunted as he stepped over a neatly disguised pressure plate, eyeing the dust settling around it. “They didn’t block the tunnels. Just set up traps. Like they’re trying to slow us down.”
And slow them down they did.
Rocks dislodged from the ceiling at random intervals, tumbling onto their heads—never enough to block their path, but enough to wear them down. Pressure plates triggered bursts of flame, catching anyone who wasn’t quick enough to react.
Even the larger explosive traps seemed strategically placed—nothing so devastating as to cause a full collapse, but enough to deal punishing damage before they could regroup and recover. The mine, once a place of labor, had become a death trap, and the deeper they wandered, the more they realized just how massive it was.
A Stairway Down—But No Dwarves
After what felt like hours of navigating the maze-like tunnels, they stumbled upon a set of stairs leading downward. The air here was thicker, colder, the stonework older, as if it had existed long before the cult arrived.
Angelica stared at the darkened descent, her grip tightening on her axe. “This has to be where they went.” Yllanys, standing just at the threshold, peered down into the blackness below. “It’s deeper than I’d like.” But Kliedd, scanning the passage ahead, was the first to shake his head. “We haven’t found the dwarves yet.”
That settled it.
Without another word, the party turned away from the stairs, continuing their search through the endless tunnels.
The Waterlogged Chamber—The Dwarves
It was on the far western side of the mine that they found it—a chamber half-buried under water, where the mine had succumbed to an underground breach.
The cavern stretched before them, half of it submerged in dark, stagnant water, the other a flat expanse of rocky ground littered with loose stone, broken tools, and abandoned mining equipment. The air was thick with dampness, the scent of wet earth and mildew clinging to the stone. Ripples spread lazily across the surface, though no breeze or movement disturbed it.
But their eyes weren’t on the water.
Across the chamber, lying in a crumpled heap near the far edge of the flooded ground, were the dwarves. “There!” Kliedd hissed, already stepping forward.
Five, maybe six of them, all bound, gagged, and unconscious, their beards caked with dust and grime. Their chests rose and fell in slow, shallow breaths, barely clinging to life. The party rushed in, their focus on freeing the captives before it was too late—
Then, the water shifted.
At first, it was just a ripple, as if something had stirred beneath the surface. Then, the rocky ground itself seemed to move.
Ambushers in the Stone
The dark, rubbery forms had blended seamlessly into the cavern walls, their stone-like flesh disguising them as nothing more than rocky outcroppings. Coiled amid the debris, lurking half-submerged in the water, the creatures had waited. They did not hunt—they lay in wait, knowing that sooner or later, prey would come close enough to strike.
And now, that prey had arrived.
With a sudden, unnatural unfurling, the creatures reared up from their hiding places, their slick, wormlike bodies unwinding from the rock. Four barbed tentacles snapped outward, revealing snarling, snapping beaks hidden beneath their fleshy, ridged faces.
Creatures from the Water
There were three of them—two of moderate size, their coiling bodies twisting with unnatural fluidity, and a third, much larger, its thickened hide scarred and ridged from age, its beak large enough to sever a man’s arm in a single snap.
They did not roar. They did not screech. They simply struck.
And that’s where the session ended.
