Sepulchre of Slop: A Descent

The Monday & I greet ye, mortals! Last week, I introduced the Sepulchre of Slop—& today, my QUEST BEGINS. I seek to end the scourge of the LLM Cult once & for all, by sacking their fetid temple, & destroying their torturous tools of terror! Join me…

After a long year, with many quests & journeys thrust upon me, ‘t felt invigorating to take up a quest of my own volition—& one of righteous sabotage, no less! The Latrocinor Lateo Mentior cult, a drain upon the world, beloved by none & loathed by all thinking beings—what grander geas than to cleanse their villainy for all time?

I rounded up a couple of compatriots, both eager to see the Sepulchre of Slop razed down to the ground. Experienced adventurers they, each highly-recommended by the startling number of royal proclamations seeking their capture.

Buddug Thrice-Sighted joined up first, after my rousing speech to the drowsy tavern crowd. Her clan once lived on the land now occupied by the Sepulchre; the LLM cult burnt their huts & put the weak to the sword. Then the cultists salted the soil, & pounded it flat, transforming the living land into a mortified plateau. Sabotage will not restore Buddug’s clan, but it will let the land start to heal—to re-wild into something green & good again.

The little fellow auditioned by breaking into my back-room at the tavern, dressing in my raiment, & casting one of the spells in my grimoire. Highly-qualified, this rogue. A great thief, & a horrible singer, no fewer than five kings have exiled “Ickle Puck” from their lands after fantastical acts of larceny. The LLM Cult’s Sepulchre drained the nearby pond, & the dried sands spawned horrible dust storms, coating the puck’s lungs with black gunk. He hopes to plunder enough loot to hire a cleric to fix his lungs, & a druid to re-fill the pond.

We agreed to divide any spoils evenly, & at Moon-set we descended into the first layer. No guards, no ward-beasts. Eerie quiet, & cold shadows. Could the cult truly leave their de-thinking centre so vulnerable? Buddug’s blade hungers for cultist blood, & the puck’s fingers yearn for jewels, but I think only of my growing sense of dread.

Perhaps they feel no need for guards, because only a fool would set foot in this Sepulchre?

Because something truly lethal lurks in the depths?

We three fools strode onward, downward, set on our course, & secure in our righteousness.

My Samhain adventure continues in next Monday’s missive!

Thank ye for reading, mortals! & thank ye humbly to the kind & generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I shall write ye Wednesday with news of this week’s episode—’til then, dear mortals: be safe, be well, & ne’er step into a sepulchre solo…

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Fool?