{"id":110945,"date":"2026-03-05T23:12:21","date_gmt":"2026-03-05T22:12:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/rpg-berlin.de\/rpg\/?p=110945"},"modified":"2026-03-05T23:12:24","modified_gmt":"2026-03-05T22:12:24","slug":"die-untotenmaschine-die-reinigenden-flammen","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/rpg-berlin.de\/rpg\/abenteuer\/die-reinigenden-flammen\/die-untotenmaschine-die-reinigenden-flammen\/","title":{"rendered":"Die Untotenmaschine (Die reinigenden Flammen)"},"content":{"rendered":"\n[et_pb_section fb_built=“1″ _builder_version=“4.27.4″ background_enable_image=“off“ background_size=“initial“ background_blend=“lighten“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_heading title=“Der Schatten des Karglichts“ _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ title_level=“h2″ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″][\/et_pb_heading][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ type=“4_4″ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_heading title=“I. Von Geduld und gierigem Stahl“ _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ title_level=“h4″ hover_enabled=“0″ sticky_enabled=“0″][\/et_pb_heading][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_text _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″]

Manchmal ist der kl\u00fcgste Sieg kein donnernder Schlachtruf, sondern ein unterdr\u00fccktes Fl\u00fcstern hinter morschem Holz. In der Finsternis der Gew\u00f6lbe stie\u00dfen die Helden auf ein Nest des Verderbens: Ein Rostmonster<\/b>, gierig nach dem Metall ihrer R\u00fcstungen, lauerte in einem knarrenden Schrank. Doch statt blindem Hurra und einem Heldentod im Korrosionsnebel w\u00e4hlten die Flammen die K\u00e4lte des Kalk\u00fcls. Ein verkeilter Stein vor der T\u00fcr, ein pr\u00e4zise ge\u00f6ffneter Spalt \u2013 und dann das t\u00f6dliche Uhrwerk aus Pfeilen und Magie. Ein kritischer Treffer brach den Willen der Bestie; das Scharren der giftigen F\u00fchler verstummte in der Stille der Geduld.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_heading title=“II. Das Schweigen des Altars“ _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ title_level=“h4″ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″][\/et_pb_heading][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_text _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ hover_enabled=“0″ sticky_enabled=“0″]

Der Altarraum gab seine Geheimnisse nicht preis, er atmete sie aus \u2013 schwer vom Geruch kalten Weihrauchs. Unter einer verborgenen Kachel, tief im Stein, harrten Relikte auf ihre Entdeckung: Ein Stab der Heilung<\/b>, erf\u00fcllt von bescheidener, doch treuer Macht; eine Schriftrolle, die das Chaos der Sinne ordnet; und ein Amulett mit einem goldenen Zahn, dessen Gottheit noch in den Schatten schweigt. W\u00e4hrend alte Gew\u00e4nder den Namen \u201eMordrit\u201c hauchten, \u00fcberdauerte ein schamloses Relikt die \u00c4onen und schrieb sein sp\u00f6ttisches Grinsen in den Staub der Jahrhunderte.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_heading title=“III. Das Erbe des Fischadlers“ _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ title_level=“h4″ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″][\/et_pb_heading][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_text _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″]

Drau\u00dfen am Bootshaus glomm ein Feuer \u2013 frisch, wie eine ungesagte Einladung in der Nacht. Ein Boot, schwer beladen mit den Gaben des Meeres und Pasteten im Teigmantel, trug am Bug das Siegel des Fischadler-Vereins aus Otari<\/b>. Es war dasselbe Zeichen, das die Helden bereits auf der Haut zwielichtiger Gestalten gesehen hatten. Unter dem Pier, eng wie ein verstohlener Atemzug, f\u00fchrte ein Tunnel hinab in das Fleisch der Erde. Doch Klugheit war der Seemannsknoten, der sie hielt: Erst die Oberfl\u00e4che sichern, bevor man den Schlund betritt.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_heading title=“IV. Der H\u00fcter der Glasscherben“ _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ title_level=“h4″ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″][\/et_pb_heading][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=“2_5,3_5″ _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ custom_margin=“|auto||auto|false|false“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“2_5″ _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_text _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″]

In einem Haus aus Glas und Schatten trafen sie auf Wuschelkopp<\/b>, ein feines Feenwesen mit einem Herzen so gro\u00df wie seine Angst. Wo Klingen versagt h\u00e4tten, siegte die Fl\u00f6te des Barden und eine handgemachte Puppe, die das Eis des Misstrauens schmolz. Wuschelkopp sprach in R\u00e4tseln von \u201ebunten Bildern\u201c und einer \u201eb\u00f6sen Puppe\u201c, die nach einem glitzernden Fernrohr giere. Die Gruppe nahm die Warnung nicht als Kinderei, sondern als Eid \u2013 Schutz f\u00fcr den Kleinen, Wachsamkeit f\u00fcr sie selbst.<\/p>\n

<\/div>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=“3_5″ _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_image src=“https:\/\/rpg-berlin.de\/rpg\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/Wuschelkopp-190×300.png“ _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ title_text=“Wuschelkopp“ hover_enabled=“0″ sticky_enabled=“0″ align=“center“ box_shadow_style=“preset2″ border_radii=“on|10px|10px|10px|10px“ box_shadow_color=“#000000″][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_heading title=“V. Das Atelier der verlorenen Seelen“ _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ title_level=“h4″ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″][\/et_pb_heading][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_text _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ hover_enabled=“0″ sticky_enabled=“0″]

Das Atelier war kein Ort der Kunst, sondern ein Spiegelkabinett der Verdammnis. Plakate k\u00fcndeten von Grauen: Absalom in Flammen<\/i>, das Karglicht in blassblauem Totenfeuer<\/i> und die Dame in Rot<\/i>, die als Herrin des Lichts \u00fcber das Gericht wacht. Inmitten dieser Galerie des Wahnsinns zitterte ein h\u00f6lzerner Automat mit Rabenfl\u00fcgeln \u2013 ein nerv\u00f6ser W\u00e4chter \u00fcber einem juwelenbesetzten Fernglas.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_heading title=“VI. Die Entbindung der Puppe“ _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ title_level=“h4″ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″][\/et_pb_heading][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ column_structure=“1_2,1_2″ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“1_2″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_text _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″]

In der Glaserei trat ihnen die seelengebundene Puppe<\/b> entgegen, deren Existenz an den Namen ihres Meisters gekettet war: Volluk<\/b>. Hier war es nicht der Stahl, der den Weg ebnete, sondern die Kunst der T\u00e4uschung. Mit der Autorit\u00e4t einer B\u00fchne und der Schwere einer L\u00fcge erklang das Urteil: \u201eIch entbinde euch von euren Pflichten.\u201c<\/i> Der W\u00e4chter wich, der Weg zum edelsteinbesetzten Fernrohr war frei \u2013 doch die Ahnung blieb, dass die wahre Geschichte gerade erst ihren Schliff erhielt.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=“1_2″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_image src=“https:\/\/rpg-berlin.de\/rpg\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/Herr_Schnabel-206×300.png“ _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ title_text=“Herr_Schnabel“ align=“center“ border_radii=“on|10px|10px|10px|10px“ box_shadow_style=“preset2″ box_shadow_color=“#000000″ hover_enabled=“0″ sticky_enabled=“0″][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_heading title=“VII. Wenn das Totenlicht erwacht“ _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ title_level=“h4″ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ min_height=“26px“ sticky_enabled=“0″][\/et_pb_heading][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_text _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″]

Dann geschah es: Das Karglicht hob sein bleiches, graues Auge und schnitt eine Schneise aus nekromantischem Feuer durch die Nacht \u2013 direkt auf den Friedhof von Otari. Die Erde spie ihre Bewohner aus; Knochen und verfaultes Fleisch erhoben sich im Takt des Leuchtfeuers. Ein Versuch, den Strahl mit einem Umhang zu brechen, endete in vollkommener Zersetzung. Dies war kein Spielzeug, sondern ein Fehler mit t\u00f6dlichen Folgen.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_heading title=“VIII. Die Schlacht am Hafen“ _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ title_level=“h4″ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″][\/et_pb_heading][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_text _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″]

Die Gruppe ruderte durch eine See aus Tinte zur\u00fcck zur Stadt. Dort formierte sich die Front. Schilde sangen im Aufprall, Trommeln gaben den Takt des \u00dcberlebens an. Skelette barsten wie trockenes Reisig, Zombies vergingen in heiligen Flammen. Und mitten im Grauen blieb Raum f\u00fcr den Galgenhumor der Helden: \u201eSchon mal einen Zombie heulen gesehen?\u201c<\/i> \u2013 An diesem Abend taten sie es.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_heading title=“IX. Das Labor des schwarzen Steins“ _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ title_level=“h4″ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″][\/et_pb_heading][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_text _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″]

Die Tiefe offenbarte ein Labor des Schreckens: Ein schwarzer Edelstein, der das Licht gierig in sich aufsaugte, und ein Metalltisch, an den niemand freiwillig gebunden wurde. B\u00fccher fl\u00fcsterten von Gr\u00e4bern, w\u00e4hrend Jadefiguren und silberne Sukkubi von vergangener Dekadenz zeugten. Doch die wichtigste Beute war kein Gold, sondern die Frage an das eigene Gewissen: L\u00e4sst man das B\u00f6se ruhen oder tilgt man es vom Antlitz der Welt?<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_heading title=“X. Der Hunger aus der Tiefe“ _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ title_level=“h4″ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″][\/et_pb_heading][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ column_structure=“2_5,3_5″ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“2_5″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_text _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″]

An der Treppe wartete das Ende: Ein Wurm der Tiefenebene<\/b>, gro\u00df wie der Hunger selbst, schoss aus der Finsternis. Ein Schild brach unter der Wucht eines kritischen Treffers \u2013 geopfert, um ein Leben zu retten. In der Enge entbrannte ein Tanz aus Verzweiflung und Mut. Segen und Bardenlieder verwoben sich zu einem Netz aus Hoffnung. Ein Banner wurde entfaltet, und pl\u00f6tzlich war das \u201eN\u00e4chste Mal\u201c genau jetzt.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=“3_5″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_image src=“https:\/\/rpg-berlin.de\/rpg\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/Blutsauger-230×300.png“ _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ title_text=“Blutsauger“ align=“center“ border_radii=“on|10px|10px|10px|10px“ box_shadow_style=“preset2″ box_shadow_color=“#000000″ hover_enabled=“0″ sticky_enabled=“0″][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_heading title=“XI. Das Ende des Hungers“ _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ title_level=“h4″ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″][\/et_pb_heading][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_text _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ hover_enabled=“0″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ sticky_enabled=“0″]

Ein perfektes Zusammenspiel, ein Schlag, der den Willen der Gruppe b\u00fcndelte: Mit einem sachlichen Hieb wurde der Hunger des Wurms beendet. Die Kreatur explodierte in einer Druckwelle aus Aas und Splittern. Reflexe und die letzten Reserven an Lebenskraft hielten die Helden aufrecht. Als sich der Staub legte, blieb nur schwerer Atem. \u201eZur\u00fcck nach Otari\u201c<\/i> \u2013 diesmal war es kein R\u00fcckzug, sondern der Weg derer, die Verantwortung f\u00fcr eine ganze Stadt auf ihren Schultern tragen.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=“1_5,3_5,1_5″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“1_5″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=“3_5″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_audio audio=“https:\/\/rpg-berlin.de\/rpg\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/Die-Reinigenden-Flammen-\u2013-Lied-der-Chroniken.mp3″ title=“Lied der Chroniken“ artist_name=“unbekannt“ album_name=“Die reinigenden Flammen“ _builder_version=“4.27.6″ _module_preset=“default“ background_image=“https:\/\/rpg-berlin.de\/rpg\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/10\/player-1024×286.jpg“ hover_enabled=“0″ border_radii=“on|10px|10px|10px|10px“ box_shadow_style=“preset2″ box_shadow_color=“#000000″ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“ title_text=“Die Reinigenden Flammen \u2013 Lied der Chroniken“ sticky_enabled=“0″][\/et_pb_audio][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=“1_5″ _builder_version=“4.27.5″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_column type=“4_4″ _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][et_pb_image src=“https:\/\/rpg-berlin.de\/rpg\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/11\/Dalwick-e1699392369382.png“ title_text=“Dalwick“ _builder_version=“4.27.4″ _module_preset=“default“ global_colors_info=“{}“ theme_builder_area=“post_content“][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Manchmal ist der kl\u00fcgste Sieg kein donnernder Schlachtruf, sondern ein unterdr\u00fccktes Fl\u00fcstern hinter morschem Holz. In der Finsternis der Gew\u00f6lbe stie\u00dfen die Helden auf ein Nest des Verderbens: Ein Rostmonster, gierig nach dem Metall ihrer R\u00fcstungen, lauerte in einem knarrenden Schrank. Doch statt blindem Hurra und einem Heldentod im Korrosionsnebel w\u00e4hlten die Flammen die K\u00e4lte […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":110952,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[947],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-110945","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-die-reinigenden-flammen"],"yoast_head":"\nDie Untotenmaschine (Die reinigenden Flammen) - RPG-Berlin.de<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Manchmal ist der kl\u00fcgste Sieg kein donnernder Schlachtruf, sondern ein unterdr\u00fccktes Fl\u00fcstern hinter morschem Holz. 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