Friends of Ispin

They considered ways to disable the crystal,
More permanently than Macho’s fist will.
They agreed upon the intuition,
That the answer was total demolition.

Across chasm bridges our heroes clamber,
Toward a crystal glowing amber,
Battling slaadi and their infectious spawn,
Not giving up ’til the baddies were gone.

They found the elf Yearkal with the sick woman Rone,
Unconscious and suffering from an illness unknown.
Marcus, with god’s might, made sure she was healed,
Of the slaad-pole infection that Kanathar revealed.

In a storage chamber our heroes found,
Crates and tools for breaking ground,
Revolting draconians were there keeping watch,
Weeping with sores worse than Karyon’s crotch.

Gilbert discerns the holy signs,
Of Sirron: as he speaks some lines,
The basin, in one fluid motion,
Filled with a magic fire breath potion.

The Sunward Fortress was finally found,
Toppled and buried in ruins on the ground.
Like freight trains upon the rails of fate,
The party went onward to investigate.

They found, out in this land so parched,
An ensigilled stone gateway, arched.
Protected by a cranky guard,
Big though he was, he fell pretty hard.

The chamber they entered was slimy and moist,
“This is the place!” Ishvern rejoiced.
He emptied his sack of its pearly load,
Then they parted ways on the dusty road.

With skillful dexterity Karyon fingered,
A map with one detail on which his mind lingered,
It pointed the way to a secret door,
Which led to a room with a dark, mossy floor.

They entered a room with a large brass basin,
For pilgrims to wash their hands and face in,
At first, Kanathar was slightly dubious,
That Titarr would judge this to be spiritually salubrious.