The party more or less began to follow Menka’s insect path in reverse. We reached the wall we had previously taken down with Gonchar’s hammer and, passing through, headed north. The tunnel was supported in makeshift fashion with hastily erected wooden beams. Ahead, in the distance we heard a loud, barking scream. A cross between a human and an animal.

An annotated map of Markheim is saved here.

We entered Markheim from the southeast, following a road that crossed through a village of huts (1). The village seemed of recent construction. Fields and groves lie just south of the village. Men and women of the same racial stock as the worshippers of the ice god worked the fields and populated the village though the overt, undead evil was not apparent. An ancient-looking elven woman worked the groves among the people. Kyril recognized her as Auntie T and acknowledged her all-seeing glance. He dismounted, handed off his horse and walked out into the fields to speak with the elven druid. We would not see him again for a week or so.

The Dwarven Stronghold In The Mountains#

The dwarves were not part of the training fiesta, so they did what bored dwarves do. Drink. And drink some more. The Halfmoon Inn barkeep just fed them breakfast and ale when they awoke and came down, lunch and ale a few hours later, and dinner and ale 5 or 6 hours after that.

We re-entered the ugly dwarf’s head, intent on exploring the underground complex before heading back to Westkeep and then onward to the Hall. Unsure where to go first, we hung out in the entry and discussed our options.

We decided to head to the far northern end of the complex where the ceiling had collapsed. Examining the heap of rubble, we noticed that he hallway was not totally closed off. Cathal and Gonchar found a tunnel through the rubble. It was too small for one of the humans to fit through, though the dwarves may be able to wiggle through. Clearing the rubble by hand would be a major excavation project.

We burned away the moss clinging to the front of the misshapen pillar. Cathal said the pillar and the altar were redolent with evil. The pillar also seemed to be suppressing the light from Cathal’s sword. Tim’s detect magic highlighted only the altar and the pillar and nothing else. There seemed to be no magic in the cave beyond as well.

Out of spells. Out of heals. On empty. Kyril used his last detect magic and joined the DM in the kitchen. There was indeed a pile of treasure in the dragon’s lair but it seemed to be mainly coins and non-magical crap, as determined by Kyril’s detection spell. Mist and the sound of falling water to the north, possibly an exit from the cavern.

Since our attempt to rest had been disturbed by the Grimlocks, we were still a mess. Kyril cast dispel magic on Flint to bring him back to his usual short size with no apparent effect. Cathal took a pull from Seamus’s mug, getting back 8 hp (31/67). Cathal bound everyone’s wounds.

We returned to the beach from the island of the rotted corpse. Tim tasted some of the wine we’d found and it was, indeed, lovely, though it seemed to confer no magics to his person. By this time the drunks had sobered up and the magical bloodlust had ended. We formed a marching order and headed back to the main hallway.

Having let Legola return to his repose, we decided to rest in the unique Dionysian bar, heal and regain some spells. We head skittering rocks to the north and a low, indistinct moaning to the south. Not all of us heard it.