As secret societies go, ours is one of the most secret. Yet our order is ancient, and we have provided clues so obvious that we have shaped the very language that the world now speaks. The dead will decomPOSE. Priests pray to their gods for Gentle RePOSE. “I hate to imPOSE, but this king we dePOSE, I proPOSE we disPOSE the man we opPOSE.” Since the beginning of prehistory, in fact, man has sought to pose the bodies of their departed kin in dirty, compromising positions. This is, indeed, one of any civilization’s most sacred tenets!
We were once considered the most holy of all men. Yet as time has progressed, our actions were, for some reason, regarded with more and more distaste until we were forced to go underground. But our numbers are significant, and throughout the land we still carry out our vital responsibility. Wherever there is death, we are there, to help the departed souls reach the afterlife. In dirty poses.
We had taken an interest in a certain troupe of adventurers, ever since we had placed an agent among them. Death followed them, and the resulting dirty poses were extraordinary. Behind them, a trail of <censored> could be found locked in eternal <censored> with <censored> up each <censored>. But our man, the brave Oguk, had recently died in the lair of the Lame Wizard… and we were beginning to suspect it wasn’t an accident.
For ever since the ancient times when our predecessors first began these holy deeds, there were those who opposed us and sought at every instance to keep the dead in non-dirty poses. Our struggle has raged for milennia, and our enemies were as resilient as cockroaches. And somehow, they had infiltrated the party!
By the time the party emerged from the wizard’s obelisk, we had reached out through our network to make sure we could keep an eye on the adventurers. From the far-off City of Splendors, our brother Deuce devised a plan to track them closely in the guise of a trusted cohort on the other end of a communication bag. And amongst the ogres of the mountains, our spies began to watch the trails for signs of the party. And even inside the abode of the Lame Wizard, our brave Gina vowed to to keep us apprised.
Very soon, we received word from Gina that the adventurers had visited her husband, and that she had facilitated their acceptance of the bait from Deuce. But we were horrified to hear that instead of venturing back into civilized lands as we expected, the party had teleported to Heroes’ Rest! It was as if they knew how to singularly cause us the most possible damage. The catacombs beneath the monastery at Heroes’ Rest were one of our most holy spots, for it was here that we had caused the great barbarian warrior, Hroth Hrothgnar, to be eternally posed with a <censored> <censored> up <censored> and a <censored> in <censored>!
This spot was very important to our order, since the angry spirit of Hrothgnar still roamed the catacombs in eternal embarrasment. The only thing better than helping souls reach the afterlife in dirty poses is preventing them from reaching the afterlife. In dirty poses.
If the adventurers could somehow defeat the ghost, they might determine that the cause of its unrest was its bodily predicament, and may then reverse the fine and impressive act that our agents had performed so many centuries past. If we had more warning, we would have sent some of our brothers to prevent such a horrific act; instead, we were forced to wait anxiously for news from our brothers in the monastery.
Just a day after the party had teleported away from Gina, we received a message from Brother Malnor. Unfortunately, the message was blank because his vows of silence also extended to written communication. As such, we had him killed and posed, and were forced to wait for an update from Deuce.
Deuce eventually reported that he had successfully infiltrated their party, in a sense, and confirmed that the monsters had, in fact, put Hrothgnar’s ghost to rest by defiling his corpse’s sacred dirty pose. He also informed us that they were now armed with a Mace of Cuthbert, which wasn’t really a problem; you could pick one up in any of a dozen dungeons or freezing caves. Priests of Cuthbert to such Maces are like wizards to +1 rings of protection. But we were beginning to suspect that this was no coincidence… someone had guided the party to our most sacred shrine under the guise of securing the Mace. The party’s cleric, a dwarf named Frank, was the most likely to be our hidden enemy.
After the defilement, the adventurers constructed a makeshift raft and floated downstream from the falls at Heroes’ Rest, all the while keeping Deuce apprised of their position and intentions (as well as their shopping lists). This gave us ample time to plan our revenge against our greatest new foe. Frank, the foul bringer of the most impure sacrilege, would die! But since we are kind and forgiving, his soul would find peace alongside his patron, St. Cuthbert. With his <censored> in <censored> <censored> <censored> <censored> Cuthbert’s <censored> <censored> <censored> <censored>!