After a night of recuperation, Teyuti arrived to lead the ardent rescuers down beneath the Grove into the abandoned dwarven undercity. He came with four debtors in tow— toga wearing gangsters interested in killing some cultists. It seemed that the removal of “Dyonisia” Krei had sparked a war between the users and their former suppliers.
The under-city proved educational in the religious practices of dwarves: the adventurers looted the temple to the evil god Droskar, and solved a puzzle in the temple to the “lesser gods” (Droskar Uber Alles). Their path snaked back and forth over bridges spanning a subterranean river and next lead to the campsite of adventurers who had perished in their quest— their bodies lay in a patch of brown mold, which leeched the heat from their bones as they slept. After helping themselves to the few surviving treasures of the dead heroes, our opportunistic adventurers rescued a gnome in distress. A Mycolite named Farah had escaped the cult only to be surrounded by deadly brown mold! The forces of chaos trimmed back the sinister plant life and learned that, like many others, she had been brainwashed by the leaders of this mysterious society, forced into a life of evil. In thanks, she provided them with a trickster’s fruit basket and was lead to the surface by one of the toga-toting companions.
Ominous chanting and flickering torches signaled the team’s arrival at the sacrificial grounds. They stormed in, cutting down armored oreads and robed supplicants and saw— beyond a broken bridge and a gaping chasm— a dwarf with a draping mustache standing over a wriggling body in a burlap sack. Yulie at last! After dodging half a dozen spells hurled at him by Propheria and A, he proceeded to slice open his victim’s skull and remove the brain. With a wink and a nod— and Rogenbogen’s arrow in his shoulder— the “mushroom pope” disappeared. The heroes fought on, bursting with their need for vengeance when a hooded figure previously at the back of the fight revealed itself. Under the hood was Yulie’s face, but life had long since left the dwarf. Even unlife had given way; the corpse before them was mockingly puppeted by fungal parasites seeded into his vacant brainpan. The creature ran at them with a massive jeweled hammer and the powers of undeath in its claws. The abomination was met with claws and horns, arrows and glitter, force of arms and force of magic. Our heroes left the battlefield victorious, but empty. The mushroom pope must die.