The party, attempting to float the treasure hoard across the lake using their makeshift boat are set upon by another of Nightscale’s swarms of magical stinging insects. They withstand the damage, and after several trips across, they manage to get their entire haul divvied up among them. Coins and small items are dumped into packs, and the weapons are rolled in bedrolls to keep them safe. They find that this method needs to be temporarily abandoned when it comes to climbing the ladder back up to the Foundry level. Instead, they tie them along a length of rope, so they can more easily haul them up. They proceed to carry out that plan, only to find that Nightscale has re-entered the chamber as they leave it behind. She must have followed to river upstream from the cave where it issues from the mountain. They hasten their climb, but Nightscale manages to grab the end of the weapon-festooned rope. She pulls off the last few swords, but the party manages to drag the rest into the adjacent corridor and slam the door shut.
They gather themselves in the bed chamber of the late “Goerth” and take the time to rest. An hour or so later, they experience a rude awakening in the form of several troglodytes intruding into their makeshift safe room. It become apparent that these troglodytes are acting on the behest of Nightscale, who occupies the throne room, unsuccessfully trying to force her way through the less-than-dragon-sized doorway. A fierce battle ensues. The adventurers keep out of acid-breath range and manage to dispatch the dragon’s reptilian minions.
Realizing that they now have no safe access to their one known escape route, they decide to attempt the door to the north… leading to the area that the Duergar had called “haunted.” Their hope is that they will find some other path out of the mountain, and they can make their way home with their treasure hoard.
The passage to the north ends at a blank wall, which Mishok immediately recognizes as a hidden door. He pushes it open and sees a hall littered with dead bodies. They have clearly been here a long time, the aftermath perhaps of the battle a century ago in which the dwarves fell to the hobgoblins, and Durgeddin was cast into exile and obscurity. An eerie moaning catches Mishok’s attention, and he notices a formless blue glow in the air above a stone-lined pool, filled with foul, murky water. A mournful voice speaks from the glow, exhorting Mishok to leave this place. He obliges, backing out of the room and closing the door. He reports back to his colleagues, warning them of an apparently hostile spirit, but also sharing the observation that a corridor runs to the east and west. They decide that dealing with the spirit might be safer than dealing with the dragon, so they agree to risk the haunted area of Khundrukkar.
They enter the chamber and are again verbally accosted by the spirit. They attempt to engage it in discussion. It takes on a somewhat more discernible shape. This appears to be an elven being, clad in tattered robes, like those of a wizard. The spectre admonishes the group to renounce their foolhardy adventuring ways. His name is Isherfezzin and he raves about the horrors of undeath, and how he is trapped here, bound to this place. He’s not like the atrocious walking dead infesting this place, but he is cursed to linger here, and driven to defend it from further defilement. “Ah me… an elf of the woods, streams, and meadows, here bound to this dismal place… aieeeee…. I won’t allow any more to meddle here. Leave this place, leave your “adventurous” ways – it only leads to death and torment! You see what happened to the others!”
The party explains that it’s not that simple. They need to get past an angry dragon, and they can use some help. Isherfezzin decides to provide some limited assistance in the form of information. He explains that there are two doors down the corridor to the west which open upon the throne room, and he knows of no other way out. But, there may be some tools or weapons in the nearby rooms that they may find helpful, if they must battle their way past Nightscale. That advice delivered, Isherfezzin dematerializes, and the party is left to a silent chamber, strewn with desiccated corpses.
They head down a long corridor to the west, past several doors, and through another chamber with a stagnant pool, much like the one where they had met Isherfezzin. There is a large door on the south wall, and they realize it likely leads to the throne room. They take note of its width, and wonder whether it will allow Nightscale to enter. Father to the west the corridor ends abruptly, at what. Mishok again recognizes as a concealed door. He decides to investigate while his companions guard the corridor behind him.
Through the door he finds a desecrated chapel. Once dedicated to Divoc, this chapel is now filthy, and covered with crude graffiti scrawled in the goblin language. At the far end of the room, beyond the hacked and broken benches, sits a low stone altar. Atop the altar, arms folded over his chest, lies the ancient corpse of a dwarf warrior in plate armor. Bones lie heaped around the altar’s base, and at its foot crouches the desiccated body of a hobgoblin in studded leather. Mishok approaches more closely, and some of the bones begin to stir and assemble themselves into a pair of towering skeletons clutching greatclubs. The dead hobgoblin warrior looks up at Mishok and grins evilly, green fire burning in its hate-filled eyes as it stands. The three undead creatures advance on Mishok, and he realizes that he had best withdraw from the room. He does so quickly, but first notices that there is a doorway to the south, presumably another door to the throne room. He slams the door behind him. He and the rest of the group, wait, expecting the undead foes to follow Mishok, but they remain behind the closed door, in the chapel.
The party begins investigating other rooms, hoping to find something that will help them escape. They open one that appears to have once been a barracks. There are half a dozen smashed bunks, and a number of skeletal dwarf corpses. Of course the skeletons rise and attack. The adventurers lure them out of the room a few at a time and destroy them methodically. Within the now vacant room, they find a crystal throwing axe with an exceptionally sharp blade.
Shortly, a banging sound reverberates through the stone chambers. Dust rains from above. Nightscale has heard the fighting and has begun trying to smash her way in, weakening the stone door frame with acid and tearing at the crumbling walls. The party decides to take their chances with the undead and they flee into the chapel, where they are immediately attacked by the two towering skeletons and the evil undead hobgoblin. A ferocious melee ensues, with warriors on both sides taking damage. Mishok battles his way to the altar where he channels the divinity of Divoc, and sends the undead assailants running for the east door. His teammates open the door, allowing the weakened undead to run into straight into the path of the enraged dragon, who quickly dispatches what is left of them. Davros, seeing a golden opportunity, takes a shot down the hall with his bow, and deals a substantial wound to the black dragon. She glares at him and roars, “How dare you take arms against one such as me? I will devour you!” About this time they hear the magical stairway alarm sound. Concerned about what new opponent this might herald, they hesitate to leave the chapel, even though the south door seems to be their best escape route, while Nightscale continues smashing her way through the adjacent room trying to reach them. The newcomer reveals himself to be none other than Krago. His presence distracts Nightscale sufficiently that Mishok is able to take a few moments and retrieve some noteworthy items strewn among the bones at the foot of the altar – including a couple of scrolls containing powerful incantations invoking the healing power of Divoc. Mishok drags the armored body of the deceased dwarf lord from the desecrated altar. Krago suggests that they should give the ancient warrior a dignified burial. The group slips out through the western door of the great hall and down the stairs to the Glitterhame. They fight their way past another of the nasty wormlike cave predators they had encountered earlier, and escape into the outside world. Mishok gives Krago his old pitted armor, and takes that of the dead dwarf instead. Mishok conducts a brief but respectful ceremony and they lay the old dwarf to rest. Divoc is pleased with the party having rid the chapel of the undead abominations dwelling within, and he blesses them with his favor. (The characters gain a level of experience). They follow Cycek deep into the forest and hunker down for the night, out of sight of the searching eyes of Nightscale.
The next morning, the five travelers rise feeling refreshed, despite having heard the the angry roars of Nightscale on the wind through the night. They begin their journey back to Blasingdell. They move warily, staying under cover, keeping an eye to the sky. The dark shadow of their winged pursuer passes over them several times, but they slowly cover ground without being discovered. They stick to game trails deep in the woods, but after a few days Cycek detects the recent tracks of others having used these same trails. At first he notices the track of booted feet, and has the suspicion that hobgoblin soldiers have recently passed this was. More concerning however are the more animalistic tracks that seem to converge upon and follows the hobgoblins’ trail. Cycek is an expert in the ways of gnolls. He knows their tracks when he sees them and that’s surely what these are. He also knows that gnolls are utterly vicious creatures. Spawn of the demon lord, Yeenoghu, these creatures are like insane hyenas on two legs. Unlike hobgoblins who, although ruthless and militaristic, can be reasoned with when it suits them, gnolls are relentlessly violent and destructive. They exist to kill and consume. The party continues forward with redoubled care.
They move through territory littered with the remains of the ancient culture that thrived here long before the founding of the Provinces. The terrain undulates, and find themselves climbing up hills and descending into valleys. One night, nearly a week into their travels, they hear a howling caterwaul on the wind. Cycek and Davros sneak forward to a perch atop a bluff, overlooking a valley strewn with rocky outcroppings. In the darkening dusk they see the ruins of a crumbling tower, nestled into a shoulder of rock not half a mile away. They see humanoid figures moving about on an apron of flat stone at the tower’s base. They hear the unmistakable clink of armor and weapons, punctuated by eerie gibbering howls. Watching carefully, they discern what they take to be a skirmish between the tower’s occupants and a hostile band of marauders. Cycek considers moving in for a closer look, but Davros questions the wisdom of putting themselves in harms way, or getting involved in a conflict that is none of their concern. They quietly withdraw and find a safe place to settle in for the night.
In the morning, they continue on their way. They travel for two more days, remaining careful to avoid detection. Eventually the thick woods dwindle into meadows dotted with isolated copses of trees, which in turn give way to rustic agricultural lands. Cycek leads them from game trails to a narrow farm track and then to a rutted dirt trail. They pass a couple of small farms and soon find themselves approaching the outskirts of town through thick wheat fields, ready for the harvest. But they detect something amiss. Cycek doesn’t like the look of some of the footprints on this road. They bear a striking resemblance to that made by typical hobgoblin soldiery. Cresting a low hill before they enter the town proper, they catch the glint of evening sunlight on steel. They stop in their tracks. Hobgoblins! They see three of them guarding a makeshift barricade adjacent to the first home in town. They quickly duck into the wheat, and begin to shuffle their way deeply into it. In their haste they make some noise, and the hobgoblins come over to investigate. Krago, nearest the road, decides to play the decoy, and surrenders to the guards, acting the part of an aged traveller looking for work in the mines. They strip him of his weapons, take him into custody, and march him roughly away toward the center of town.
Using the wheat field for cover, the remaining four stealthily move closer to the nearest house. The wheat field gives way to fields of grass, dotted with scattered shrubs and trees. Davros scouts ahead, darting from shadow to shadow. He climbs a tree and surveys as much of the town as he can. He sees hobgoblins guarding barricades at not only the west road, but also the south. He sees a couple more hobgoblins overseeing the work of the town blacksmith. He cannot see the far end of the east road, but he spots Worg riders in the streets, and goblin archers on rooftops. He sneaks down, and finds a way into the the nearest house. There he encounters a frightened lady and her young son. She tells him that the hobgoblins take the men to the. mine every morning to work them like slaves all day, and bring them back in the evening. “It was that idiot Wicklow who led them there, insisting that they were great allies who would rescue them from the inevitable invasion of evil gnolls. And furthermore, these hobgoblins claim to have been granted full rights and possession of the mine by the owners, the Wend family. Now they have the town locked down, people are afraid to go out. Several people have gone missing, and harm has come to those who resisted. Look at what happened to the sergeant of the town watch!” Peeking out the window, she gestures toward a petrified form of an armed man standing in a defensive pose in the town center. She pulls Davros back from the curtain and whispers, “Shhhh… watch it! There’s someone there!” And sure enough, Davros sees a goblin archer just around the corner of the building. They withdraw from the window, and she continues, “They say constable Dara is working as their serving wench in the Salt of the Urth. They’ve taken over the bar, and they’ve taken over Kheldgan Tor’s store. Both Urth and Kheldegan haven’t been seen… they probably have them slaving away in the mines too.”
Davros, having learned as much as he can, takes his leave, sneaks back out the cellar door and returns to his teammates. They unload their Durgeddin weaponry in the middle of the wheat field, to enable quiet, unencumbered movement. They move farther into town toward a particularly ramshackle home. They sneak across the debris-strewn backyard, and are greeting by a wiry wizened man with wild white hair and unkept clothes. He leans from his doorway, and bids them enter quickly before they are discovered by a patrol. The place is filled with books, glassware, rumpled clothes, and other odds and ends. Amid the mess prowls a large tabby cat named Puss-Puss. The air carries a strong aroma of pipe smoke, alcohol, mustiness, and cat litter. The man introduces himself as Vroman, and as he saunters around the tiny house finding places for his guests to sit, he hums and plucks the strings of a lute. He hates the hobgoblins, as do many of the townfolk, but he warns that some have been taken in by Wicklow’s insistence that the hobgoblins are Blasingdell’s best chance of survival when the gnolls come. The party makes plans to visit the tavern and hopefully rescue Krago. Vroman is willing to help. He will distract the hobgoblins if necessary. The strange old man sings them an awkward song in a scratchy, warbling falsetto. It sounds absurd, but somehow it bolsters their resolve, and as they set out toward the tavern, they feel all the more confident in their ability to succeed. They take note of a mounted hobgoblin passing though the street. He is riding a ferocious-looking wolf-like creature. It bares its great fangs and sniffs the air as it prowls the street. That in mind, they carefully sneak out the back door and out into the wheat fields again.
They group retraces its steps back through the wheat field, crossing the road west of town, and circling back around to the north of the Salt of the Urth. They seek positions where they can survey the scene while remaining hidden. Davros again climbs a tree, from whence he sees Krago marched out of the tavern and pressed into service with the blacksmith. But the winds, or the winds of fate, seem to have finally turned against the party, for their scent apparently draws the interest of a worg rider. Suspicious, the rider spurs his mount toward the hidden adventurers. Davros, from his hidden perch, sees an opportunity to take out this lone, suspicious enemy, and he lets fly an arrow. He slays the rider, but the mount howls in distress. This in turn arouses the attention of the goblin sniper, as well as the barricade guards. Soon they are locked in frantic melee with a number of foes. They try to dispatch them quickly before any reinforcements can be called. They almost success in this… but don’t quite.