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.

Menka spoke with Aesil about gaining access to the mirror she kept somewhere in the tower. She was far less than interested in providing access and was neither concerned with events far to the the south nor with the visions provided to the priest by the messenger of Thoth.

Seamus wanted to skin two of the huge wolves and take their pelts. Given our haste he decided to wait for the return trip. The cavern continued west then turned sharply north. It was misty due to the increasing cold and the hallways seemed to be well and recently traveled.

The party stood in a room with doors in the north and south walls and another on the northern end of the east wall, the same door we entered through. Charred ice ogre corpses lay strewn about, reeking of burnt hair and flesh. Kyril’s control temperature was still in effect, fending off the cold for those within its 10’ compass. Outside of that 10’ range it was bitterly cold. Seamus didn’t seem to mind the chill. Antifreeze and all that.

The session began with the party traveling, with Harald Markgaard, Agnar, Arndt, Ninax, Scarlett and the wayward rangeress Largatha, daughter of Harald, as well as a host of mounted men-at-arms from Markheim, traveling through the thawing, ice, snow, mud and debris-strewn melting mountain passes. Winter-like weather still clung to the area, though a hint of Spring was in the air.

Having made it past the disintegration ray^[1], we paused for a bit by the bars in the wall to catch our breath. The psychic and physical darkness weighed heavily upon us. Seamus was the only one not bitten by the chill air.

The party emerged from the tomb of the Twice-Crowned into a bowl-shaped, wooded area which clears near the entry to the tomb - the party is stinking, tired, bloodied and bandaged. Two of the party are carrying bags of holding which are overflowing with coinage - luckily, the coins dropping into the dirt all seem to be coppers.

We spoke at length with Teos at the bar. He was loquacious in his gratitude and willingly answered our questions.

Creel’s tower was less than a day’s ride from the Horne’d Lamb. The good barkeep told the party that to simply touch the walls of Creel’s tower was … dangerous. Creel himself is a good man and had long held commerce and communication with the Inn as well as the surrounding area. Creel’s wife had died of some unspecified malady - perhaps plague, all sudden-like, and while Creel was out - and the man had not been the same since. Creel had turned to the dark arts of necromancy in an effort to bring his beautiful wife back to life. Teos had nothing but praise for Illyssa.

The room at (A) was well-maintained and well used. Creel had kept it clean, well swept. Some carpeting covered the floor. It contained bookshelves on the west wall, upon which many books sat. Shelves also hung on the northern wall, glass jars filled with clear liquids and various implements lining them. A sitting area containing a small desk with quill and ink sat in the southeastern corner. A reading chair lay on its side with a spilled bottle of wine on the floor next to it, the red wine staining a throw rug in this area. Crumpled paper was strewn about around the knocked-over chair.