My night time precautions prove effective, as we are untroubled in our sleep – obviously any potential assailants realise that they are up against a master in such matters and decide to wait upon easier sheep to prey upon.  We awake in the morning and venture forth to find the ferry, only to discover that our informants have misinformed up upon this matter as the ferry has been replaced by a fine stone bridge many years ago.  That is always the problem with the memories of elves – they are always thinking back to the time of their youth, rather that focusing on the here and now.  Anyhow, the bridge proves to be sturdy and fully functional in its purpose of conveying us to the fine town of Womford, so we proceed.  Unfortunately, our progress to the fine town of Womford is prevented by the discovery that Womford is actually a miserable hamlet, boasting a dilapidated wharf with three river barges tied up, a run down general store and a rather dubious looking tavern.  Short of alternatives, we fall back upon my normal recourse in any situation, and head for the tavern.  The tavern keeper seems bemused to see so many strangers in at such an early hour, but perks up when I order five tankards of ale (or the nearest potable alternative).  There is one other inhabitant of the bar, who perks up when I include him in our largess.  He drinks our health and then launches into a long (and possibly slightly drunken, which is impressive given the early hour of the morning – obviously a true knight of the tavern) rant about how things have gone to the bad around here.  This is saved from being the usual elven maudlin lament for how so much better things were in the old days, by being specific on what is the problem, the problem in question being river pirates.  I prick up my (undeniably cute) ears at this, for Endrith had tasked me, as the most resourceful and bravest of the Harper agents in the area, with the complex and dangerous task of infiltrating the river pirate organisation, and bringing its leaders to justice (summary or otherwise).  Thus I was most interested in this line of conversation, and plied him with more ale, which he gladly and thirstily accepted, in order to find out what he knew of them.

They were apparently a scourge on all traffic on the river, and indeed three youths from Womford had even joined them as they seemed to be the new power in the area.  They were, apparently, so brazen that one of their boats was even at this very moment tied at the wharf below, the River Lady.  It is captained apparently by a blue man by the name of Shoalar Quandrille.  Fascinated by this information, I finished quaffing my ale, and stroll outside to cast a glance over the River Lady and it’s crew, for the name of Shoalar Quandrille was one I had heard before.  Indeed he was one of the villains that had been named to be by Endrith as a ringleader of the river pirates and someone who should be eliminated as a threat.  I found a vantage point by the corner of a building and easily identified the River Lady, as it is the closest of the three wherries that are moored alongside.  There was a sole crewman visible, swabbing the quaterdeck (as I understand it is termed).

My interest in the vessel was now fully piqued.  The original plan had been to continue onwards to Summit Hall, but this seemed too interesting an opportunity to overlook.  Had I been alone, I would have considered attempting to sign on as a new recruit and infiltrate the organization from the bottom upwards, but with five of us, all heavily armed and diverse, it seemed too complex an enterprise.  Feyabelle, on the other hand, felt that the more direct approach was best, a quick attack on the boat to eliminate it as a threat and find out some information.  I was nervous about what the locals might think if we just suddenly launched an unprovoked attack on a vessel at anchor, so Thorg offered to go and get them to start a fight.  He stomped off down the hill and a brief conversation ensued, which, as Thorg had predicted, rapidly descended into violence.  As he approached, a blue man, obviously Shoalar Quandrille, came out on deck, and when I say blue, he was actually blue skinned.  The conversation was hard to hear, but I think I heard him refer to Thorg as shorty, and soon afterwards, Thorg made a comment about him being untrustworthy on account of his skin colour.  That seemed to work, as the blue man started to wave his hands about as if about to cast a spell.  Thorg hefted his axe, but I was on a hair trigger for this, and shot three magic missiles from my wand at his at the first sign of trouble.  Feyabelle followed this up with a bullseye arrow, and Thorg swung an struck him a glancing blow with his axe.  Sorrel rushed forwards and turned into a bear (again).  The blue man had by this time completed his spell, and a great wave of water rose up and crashed over Thorg and Sorrel, knocking Thorg off his feet and washing him off the gangplank and back onto the quayside.  Arielle used her mystic mastery to impose an area of silence over the whole boat, but then two more deck hands boiled up to join the first one who had dropped his mop and picked up a light crossbow.  Two of the deck hands shot at us with crossbows, while the third, a halfling, attacked Thorg, who was still lying on the floor.  One of the deck hands shot at Arielle, who leapt to the side, and caught the quarrel out of the very air, flipped it over and was able to throw it back, hitting the shooter with his own bolt.  I cast a sleep spell over the boat, and one of the deckhands with a crossbow dropped in a slumber.  Feyabelle hit the blue man with another arrow, and he dived over the side of the boat.  Sorrel lunged forward over Thorg to slash and bite the halfling, as the gangplank creaked ominously under their weight.  Thorg got back onto his feet and grabbed his crossbow, shooting at the deckhand at point blank range, and still managing to miss.  Feyabelle threw another dart at the remaining deckhand, whose shot then hit Thorg.  Thinking quickly, I sent Blinky up to see which direction the blue man was swimming in, then rushed over and fired another five magic missiles into him.  He stopped struggling and started floating downstream.  Feyabelle shot the deckhand with the crossbow, killing him, and Sorrel bit the head off the halfling. Thorg dashed onto the boat next door, grabbing a boathook to try and fish out the body of the blue man, but Arielle dived into the river and pulled it to shore.

We were quickly surrounded by a crowd of locals, who made it clear that rather than regarding us as blood-crazed lunatics, they were fully appreciative of our effort in removing this scourge from their village.   All except Sorrel, who they remained nervous of now that they knew that she could turn into a bear.  We quickly tied up our sleeping captive, and searched the boat.  We found five more dwarvish tomes that looked like the one that Endrith had shown me, plus some money and a finely worked dagger that on later investigation turned out to be a dagger of venom.  The hold was full of supplies and trade goods, presumably looted from passing boats.

Having satisfied ourselves that there was nothing more to be found we started interrogating our prisoner.  He started out cocky, but when we told him of the fates of his captain and the rest of his crew he rapidly became amenable.  It seemed that he had little loyalty for his captain, being just a hired mercenary looking to make a living working as a river pirate.  Their base was somewhere called Riverguard Keep, which was upriver in the Sumber Hills, although towards this end of the hills.  There was an organisation there dedicated to the worship of water, led by a crazy woman in the chapel.  Those in charge were devotees of this cult, but the majority of the pirates were hired mercenaries like him, who were just fighting for the money.  The keep was build right on the river, with a river gate that allowed the boats to access it.  The fort was run by a man called Jolliver Grimjaw.  This name was also not unknown to me, having been mentioned to me by Endrith as another one of the river pirates who needed to be eliminated.  In among all his other ramblings, he happened to mention that they had ferried four captives across to the keep a couple of weeks ago, and the descriptions that he gave matched those of the embassy given by Endrith.  This new information suggested to me that we should change our plans once again.  What was the point of going to Summit Hall if we now had intelligence that they embassy had crossed the river weeks ago.  This was now the freshest lead on the fate of the embassy that we had, so it seemed our bounden duty that we should follow it.  The main issue that we had was that we were not exactly experienced boatmen, and an, it turned out, related issue, was that we had a prisoner, and no obvious law enforcement agency to hand him over to.  However he indicated that his loyalty to the pirates was now gone, and that indeed, he feared if he returned there they would kill him.  The offer of two gold coins a week was enough to buy his loyalty, and he pledged to serve us.  In addition we were able to hire a young chap from the village, who was keen to serve under such an obvious hero as me and strike a blow against the pirates who had been terrorizing the river.

We therefore enjoyed a good lunch provided for us by the grateful townsfolk, and left, sailing upriver, folk-heroes once again in another community.  Surely there will soon be no village, hamlet or other gathering place in the Dessarin Valley that will not have a statue to Erky the Brave?  Anyway, as we sailed up river, we discussed the fort with Thedorm, our new hireling and recent turncoat.  He told us much of the operations of the place, as far as he knew them, and we came up with the outlines of a plan.  We would sail into the water gate around dusk, as if returning from an expedition, which indeed they had been on the verge of doing.   Thedorm would act as steersman and would give the sign and countersign, being known to the gatekeeper.  He would introduce >>>> as a new recruit.  I would disguise myself, being a master of disguise, as the halfling mate, which is a role suitable to my stature.  Meanwhile, I would use my Silent Illusion to show them an image of Captain Quandrille leaving the deck and going below.  This would then hopefully satisfy them that Captain Quandrille was on board, and Thedorm would cover for him, saying that he was busy and did not wish to be disturbed.  The rest of us would then hide below decks.  We would then tie up at the main wharf to unload cargo.  If there were no other cargo unloaders present, we would take the opportunity to sneak into the castle, otherwise we would be introduced as prospective new recruits and rely on that to get us an interview with Jollivar, the commander of the fort.

Catching my breath as I relaxed following this epic encounter, I moved towards Larrakh to examine his body, checking that he was really dead and this wasn’t some devious and underhand trick worthy of such an obviously evil and depraved villain.  He proved to be truly dead; Arielle muttered something about having struck to merely knock him out, but Thorg had no such qualms and the large axe wound in his chest removed any lingering possibility that he was merely faking his demise.  He proved to be equipped with nothing other than some small metallic bars, which Thorg identified as Mirabar trading tokens.  We took them anyway, although I usually have little truck with fiat currencies.

A search of the room proved similarly futile, apart from these 6 stone slabs, each with a human skeleton on it.  Investigation revealed that each skeleton had some kind of injury, and Thorg ventured, from his first hand experience, that these were the sort of injuries that would occur in mining or rockfalls.  These skeletons then appeared to be the mysterious delvers.

I dispatched Sorrel and Thorg to fetch our two prisoners, the cryptic old man in the corridor and the single remaining cultist from the chamber with the statue.  Sorrel returned swiftly, bearing one in paw (bearing – get it), and we started to re-interrogate the old man.  He seemed discombobulated by the death of Larrakh, although continued to sing his praises as a prophet who could interpret the messages from the delvers.  I suggested that his powers of interpretation would be strictly limited from now on, and that possibly more co-operation would be helpful, especially since he had warned Larrakh of our presence.  I mentioned the murdered bodies that we had found, and inferred that things might look bad for him with the local authorities.  He claimed to have nothing to do with any kind of violence or murder, just being part of a local charitable organisation that revered the delvers and sort to do good deeds, organise tombolas, and stuff like that.  I did manage to get to start naming some of the members, reluctantly, when suddenly Constable Harburk burst in with several deputies, and a craven looking half-orc.  He seemed confused to find us, but recognized us and thanked us for our role in rescuing the children.  We explained our role and actions in this underground complex, and he dispatched a constable to investigate our claims of murder victims.  He explained that he had ventured down the main corridor and the ceiling contained a number of cage traps, which had pinned them, but that the half-orc had released them when he realised the importance of whom he had trapped and didn’t want to take responsibility for that action.  The constable returned and confirmed our story, so we jointly exited through the quarry entrance.

Over the next couple of days, we were universally praised as the rescuers of small children and harbingers of all that is good and right in the world.  Not that this seemed to wear off on Sorrel, who has become increasingly grumpy and aggressive since the bear incident.  If I didn’t know better I would say that she was actually becoming part bear.  Certainly the way she tears into her food and devours it raw is enough to unsettle even the most broad-minded and would make her presentation in polite society completely impossible.

I dropped in on Endrith again and updated him on our subterreanean progress.  It was notable that certain senior members of the village ‘vanished’ over the next couple of days, so it seemed that Constable Harburk was obviously following up on the information we had gathered for him.  I was reassured that my original concerns that the good Constable might be in some way associated with this organisation and that its tendrils might have completely ramified Red Larch were not realised, and that he was obviously a dependable servant of law and order (or possibly playing an even deeper game, so completely embedded that his reveal as the evil mastermind behind the who organisation would be even more devastating when it came).

Anyway, Endrith seemed little interested in my conspiracy theories, which he referred to for some reason as ‘advanced paranoia’.  Apparently greater things were afoot – an embassy from Mirabar to Waterdeep had gone missing, and he would like us to investigate their whereabouts.  Of considerable interest was a dwarven scholar who was travelling with them along with a library of ancient texts of inestimable value.  Enderath was concerned that he had only that day purchased an ancient dwarven tome from a passing merchant who in turn had bought it from a mysterious stranger in Womford.  Ancient tomes sounded very interesting to me – I know that some wizards will pay a fortune for old tomes.

I returned to my companions and related the tale of the missing manuscripts to them, and announced my intention to travel to Womford to see if we could locate the rest of them.  I made no mention of how valuable I thought they might be – no need to raise expectations that I might not intend to meet later on.  The ladies however, led by Sorrel, who now insists on being called ‘Storm’, and such a name certainly matches her new temperament, insisted that they would do no such thing.  They had heard also of this missing embassy, but also from some old shepherd of some newly dug graves on the Sumber Hills.  They demanded that we go and investigate them, and then go on to Beliard, which apparently was where the embassy had last been seen.  It was apparently on the way from there to Summit Hall to deposit the body of a knight that they were carrying from Mirabar to be buried in honour there.  Given the appearance of the manuscripts at Womford, which was on the road beyond Summit Hall, it seemed to be that starting at Womford and working back up the road was the obvious and intelligent route of investigation, but Storm was obdurate on the matter, and so I acquiesced gracefully and agreed to accompany them for their own protection and safety.

We departed Red Larch and proceeded, guided by the shepherd up the Larch Path, and then westwards into the hills.  He showed us the graves, which had obviously been recently dug.  There were four graves, each containing a body, covered in stones to stop the scavengers reaching them.  We found some artefacts around as well; an old grey cloak, a broken arrowhead and a javelin, which suggested there might have been a fight here.  The four bodies were:

These were obviously not the members of the embassy.  Two of them appeared to be cultists of some sort – one from the Howling Hatred based on his symbol, and obviously one from some other related cult based on his similar but different symbol.  We surmised that the other two might have been their victims – a battle must have taken place here between cultists and non-cultists, and two of each must have died and been buried.

Feyabelle ranged around and found tracks leading off to the south and the south east.  Away over to the west we saw a tower among the hills with birds wheeling around it.  The shepherd identified this is Feathergale Spire.  The mention of feathers could not but help remind us of Larrakh and his feather masked allies, and we wondered as to the coincident location of this tower so close to Red Larch.  The name of Feathergale also reminded Thorg of something.  He had heard of an organisation of nobles in Waterdeep called the Feathergale somethings, and was keen to find a member called Thurl Merroska.  I assume he must have owed Thorg some money as he seemed quite insistent on finding him.  Storm decided however not to investigate the tower and that we should proceed directly to Summit Hall.  I pointed out that the Dessarin River lay between us and Summit Hall, and the shepherd concurred that it could only be crossed by bridge or ferry.  We decided therefore to proceed southward towards Bargewright Inn and Womford, where there was a ferry apparently.  I agreed readily, since I had always wanted to go to Womford anyway.

We reburied the bodies, and encamped uneventfully for the night with the shepherd.  Our journey southward proceeded at a good pace, as we knew we had many miles to cover to reach the Bargewright Inn before nightfall.  After a few hours though, we saw that we were being pursued by 3 avian shapes.  As they came closer, we realised that there were giant vultures of some kind, and that each had a rider as well.  Their attitude did not look friendly so we decided that to start shooting.  Feyabelle cast Hunter’s Mark and shot the middle one, hitting him squarely in the chest.  Thorg shot with his crossbow and missed.  Arielle hit one of the wingmen with a dart and I then used my wand to send three Magic Missiles after him.  He fell lifeless from the back of his bird.  The leader though swooped down on Feyabelle and hit her with a javelin.  We returned fire, although Feyabelle missed this time because of the javelin wound.  Thorg hit, but only a glancing blow with his quarrel.  I used another Magic Missle and Arielle hit with another dart.  Storm stepped forward as the leader flew over and cast Thunderwaveat him, but this failed to unseat him although it did cause him to miss with his second javelin.  The other wingman also cast a javelin, but missed.  We returned fire again, and managed to kill the leader by combining on him.  The last wingman broke off and left, but we also felled him before he could escape out of range.  The three birds flapped off.  We examined the three bodies.  The leader looked well dressed and elegant, obviously a man of breeding an importance.  The two wingmen on the other hand looked starved and emaciated.  Each of them was dressed in a white cloak with black feathers and blue leather armour with the symbol of the Howling Hatred.  We took the cloaks and armour and left the bodies for the buzzards.

Pressing on, we reached the Bargewright Inn just as they were shutting the gates for the night.  We entered and found the inn itself, in the centre of a gaggle of lesser dwellings and hovels that had gathered around it and immured themselves for their own protection.  The inn seemed seedy and run down, a hive of scum and villainy that reminded me of some of the less salubrious places I had frequented when short of funds in Waterdeep.  The barkeeper seemed friendly though, although not forthcoming on the subject of manuscripts or tomes.  We settled in to spend the evening in pleasant company, while keeps ours ears and eyes open for any strange rumours or stranger folk.  We shall certainly take precautions against having our throats cut for our valuables this night.

I was relaxing in Red Larch with my new found companions celebrating my heroic deeds in defeating the Necromancer of Lance Rock, regaling the locals with tales of derring-do and toying gently with some carbonised lamb, when suddenly a hue and cry went up from outside in the street.  Arielle, who had been deep in conversation with Thorg, having discovered a common interest in geology and speleology, cried out in horror, for she had forseen from the local morphology that the area might be subject to sinkholes.  When we emerged into the sunlight, we saw that Arielle’s fears for the local subsoil was justified, for there was a large sinkhole that had opened in the road near the crossroads.  I boldly led my companions forward, for a large crowd had gathered around the hole, with some village elders attempting to hold people back.  The villagers were distressed however for several children had fallen into the sinkhole, although fortunately they appeared to be unharmed, and standing on a pile of earth in the centre of the hole.  There appeared to be large chamber below that the sinkhole had opened into, so I retired to a nearby unoccupied doorstep and sat down in order to project my senses into those of Blinky my familiar.  We swooped down through the hole and around the chamber.  It appeared unoccupied although there was a door on the eastern wall and a corridor exiting to the north.  The chamber itself was roughly finished and of exceptionally large size.  I am no expert in such matters, unlike Thorg, but I am surprised that the village is still standing at all with a void of such size under it.

Returning from my trance, I heard the village elders continuing to warn the others to stay away from the hole and muttering about not disturbing the ‘delvers’ whoever they might be.  They were attempting to reassure the village that the children were unharmed and could easily wait for a while to be rescued.  The rest of the crowd did not seem to accept this advice however, and rope was rapidly thrust into our hands.  We quickly belayed it off on Thorg, whose low height and large waist eminently qualified him for the role of bollard.  The children were quickly rescued, to the relief and acclamation of the crowd.  Questioning of the elders about these ‘delvers’ provided no information, just mumbling and refusals, so we decided rapidly to investigate the hole below, even though the elders forbade it.  It seems that this village is not entirely in favour of gerontocracy.  We climbed down the rope and investigated the room.

The room itself was full of strange buffeting drafts and gusts of wind.  The door to the east turned out to be of stone, and Thorg ascertained that it slid to one side.  On the floor in front of it were two used robes and a half empty waterskin.  From behind the door we could hear the noise to birds chirping and singing.  We decided instead to investigate the corridor to the north.  This was a roughly formed corridor that sloped upwards and then came to a wooden door, sloped back between floor and ceiling.  We opened this, and discovered that the corridor continued, but lit by daylight, as it soon opened out above ground.  I snuck forward and discovered that it opened out in a discrete and hidden corner of the town quarry.  Methinks that Madame Mellikho does indeed have something to hide from us.

We returned, unseen due to my outstanding powers of concealment, to the first chamber, and opened the stone door to the east.  Beyond was a straight and well made corridor, sloping downwards initially and then flattening out.  Where it flattened out stood two large statues of dwarves with axes and shields, facing one another with their backs to the walls.  Blinky flew beyond to the far end and I saw with her own eyes that there was another stone door at the far end.  The ceiling of that far part was also strange, as it was made of an iron framework with ten-foot square panels of stone within them.  My experienced senses and rational sense of survival that only fools would call paranoia suggested to me that this might a trap.

Examining the statues, we decided that they did not appears to be traps themselves, but instead rather ornate doors that slid to one side.  There are advantages to having a dwarf around with his knowledge of stonework, as well as disadvantages.  We slid the northern dwarf to one side (a sentence one rarely writes), and saw a corridor beyond.  This ran north then east for a while, before opening into a chamber.  Blinky, scouting ahead, came back and reported that there were some people lying in it, and some rats.  The smell suggested that the people lying down were probably dead.  We advanced into the chamber, and were attacked by the rats; fortunately on this occasion, the dead did not rise but stayed conventionally motionless.  My companions made short work of the rats, and so I continued to scout down the corridor beyond.  They examined the bodies – they had been knifed to death it appeared, and each of them had a strange rune carved into their forehead, deep enough to have cut into the bone.  The corridor beyond opened into another chamber, this time we a black rock floating in the centre of it.  This seemed very curious behaviour for a rock – even Thorg was surprised, although he managed to restrain his emotion to just a brief flicker of his right eyebrow.  Investigation revealed that there was a column in the centre of the room that held anything placed in that area aloft and prevented it falling, although did not prevent us from moving things what were floating.  The amusement value of this started to pale after a while, even for Thorg, so we continued once again.

The corridor beyond opened out into a much larger chamber, more of a size with that by which we had first entered the labyrinth.  The centre was dominated by a life-sized stone statue of a dwarf, again with axe.  The statue appeared broken and repaired, and was supported by a wooden frame.  Around it was a circle of pebbles, within which were some coins and gems, and an ornate dagger.  As we circled to the front of the statue, we saw that the frame had some writing on it saying ‘Petrified iron(?) dwarf, found broken in Red Larch West Quarrel DR 1556’.  As we were pondering upon this strange label, and the idea of an underground museum in a village like Red Larch, and why anyone would collect broken petrified dwarfs, the previously unmentioned in this account door on the east wall (there was also one on the west wall) slid open and three men rushed in, in feather masks and with the same strange rune heretofore mentioned emblazoned on their leather armour.  They were brandishing scimitars in a manner which implied that they were not soliciting donations for good causes or inviting us for a cup of tea, and the leader shouted something in a rather cliched evil-villain manner.  We drew our weapons in return and Sorrel, in a rather surprising move, suddenly turned into a brown bear, although our surprise at this was as nothing compared to that of the villains.  Despite this, three more of them piled in and joined the fray, although two did so by shooting from beside the door.  The distance did not help them because bears are quite fast across the ground, so they rapidly found themselves up close and personal with Sorrel.  The fight was quickly over.  During it, one of the villains had crossed the line of pebbles, so we assumed that it was safe to do so, and recovered some gems, gold and silver pieces and the rather nice dagger, which I tucked into my sash for safe keeping.  We also tied up the last fanatic, whom Arielle had knocked unconscious with her staff.

The door through which they had come proved to open into another corridor, with a door at the far end and an old man sitting on a stool in front of it whittling on some wood.  He appeared not to have heard the fight, and was obviously scared to see us, partially because we were armed and bloody, and possibly also because we were accompanied by a brown bear.  We questioned him, which was rather strange, and he assured us that he knew little of what was happening, save that Larrakh was beyond the door, and that he was a wise and powerful man who led the Howling Hatred, as the acolytes we had just slaughtered were called.  The room beyond was the abode/tomb of the delvers which we had heard mentioned above.  The Hatred used these tunnels – he was unsure of their relationship with the delvers.  He did know that Larrakh had great control of the spirits of the air.  It was since he had come that the birds had gathered and the strange gusts of wind appeared.

We decided to tie this irritating old man up, but as we moved to do so, he shouted a brief warning before we could restrain him.  Irritated we bound him tighter and burst into the room beyond.  This was another large, although higher ceilinged chamber.  There were a number of strange edifices on the walls, and in the centre various monoliths and triliths, some standing and some fallen on the floor.  It was lit by a single lantern on the floor in the centre,  I advanced into the room,  keeping to the side walls, to scan for Severin or any of his allies.  Fayabelle dashed in to take cover behind one of the monoliths.  Arielle ran over the other side and took cover behind some monoliths there.  It was only as Thorg stomped into the room directly towards the lantern in the centre that a figure appeared from behind another monolith on the far side of the room, muttering an incantation, which seemed to have little effect.  Sorrel bounded into the room in bear form and launched herself across the fallen monoliths towards the lone cultist.  I whipped out my wand and used three charges to power a flight of five missiles towards him, but he spoke another incantations and the missiles flamed out before they reached him.  Fayabelle shot him with an arrow, but that too bounced off before it hit him, and Arielle’s attacked were similarly ineffective, as was Thorg’s axe.  He then waved his arms again and a great gust of wind blew forth from him,. rocking Arielle and Thorg on their feet.  Sorrel as a bear tried to grapple him to the ground, but he writhed out of her grasp.  I again used my wand, and again the missiles were stopped by an invisible barrier.  This time though, Fayabelle’s arrow struck true.  Arielle kept her footing to whack him with her staff, and the blast of wind stopped as he reeled back.  Thorg then stepped forward to deliver the death blow.  Larrakh collapsed and melodramatically muttered ‘Aerisi’ as he breathed his last.

Our return to Red Larch wasn’t greeted with the sort of hero’s parade that I had been hoping for, but at the very least I got a nice smile and greeting from Kaylesa, although not as much fussing as when I was at death’s door the previous time. Mayhap I should ensure at least a minor flesh wound on each outing. Anyhow, we decided that we would have some of her fine ale, and maybe even attempt some of the food to rebuild our strength for the morrow. While we were so engaged, and I was regaling some of the other patrons with tales and discussions of my derring-do and general heroism in leading and protecting my Amazonian companions, I noticed a lone dwarf sitting in the corner of the bar, nursing a mug of ale with a look of deep distaste and poking nervously at one of the more dubious offerings from the grill outside, which appeared to have been transmuted into some sort of carbon elemental. The dull shimmer of chainmail was obvious under his cloak, his helmet sat on the table next to him and a great Dwarf-axe rested against his pew. These subtle clues let me to suspect that he might possibly be a warrior of some kind, and it seemed from our exploits of the afternoon that while we were a winning combination of quick wits and beauty, it was possible that our small party lacked something in the way of brawn, and as we all known, dwarves are very much focused on that side of development. Having seen him therefore, and shaking off the crowd of admirers for a few seconds, promising to return before any of the young ladies died of a broken heart at my absence, I grabbed a fresh pint of the better ale for him and sidled up to his table and clambered onto the stool. “Morning shorty” I said with my most winning grin, for he was probably only eighteen inches taller than me, and got ready to leap for cover in case he over-reacted in any way. His hand shot out for his axe, but then he realised just who was addressing him, and broke into a broad, but still quite frightening, smile. I proffered the flagon of ale that I had brought across, and assured him that this was the stuff that they reserved for customers who they liked and who insisted on ale that had not already been filtered through several sets of kidneys. He accepted it, and so, feeling safer, I outlined a proposal to him. I explained that we were in need of some muscle and pointed out the other members of my party to him. Since he was a dwarf, I didn’t dwell on the obvious advantages of adventuring with such beautiful companions, their long tresses, the delightful contrast of taut leather and soft skin, the delicate swell… but I digress… and instead dwelt on how hard-working and aggressive they were, which I know are attributes that dwarves value highly. He seemed interested, being somewhat short of ready money like the rest of us, and I offered him a sixth share of everything we found together. Unfortunately, and against expectations, it turned out that he could count higher than three, so we were forced to settle on a fifth of the proceeds of our endeavours. We shook on the deal as partners and I introduced him to the ladies. The rest of the night passed in carousing and general revelry.
The next morning, having found my clothes and my room and freshened up, we decided over something that was loosely described as breakfast that we should return to Lance Rock and have it out with the necromancer for once and for all, boosted in confidence by the presence of the dwarf, Thorg by name, who still wished to accompany us in the cold light of morning. Accordingly, we set out, and within a few hours were back at Lance Rock. Our approach was untroubled, and so I crept silently into the first chamber. It was much as we had left it, save that there was no corpse in the entrance passage now, and no zombies waiting for us in the niche above the entryway. I crept further into the mortuary, to find that there were now but nine bodies in there, not the twelve of before. Three were missing, all skeletal, so I surmised that the necromancer must have raised those three into an unholy semblance of life to act as reinforcements for his depleted hordes. The others now caught up with me – Thorg is slow and noisy unfortunately, but then dwarves and subtlety are rarely bedfellows (indeed dwarves rarely have bedfellows at all or so I have heard it told) – so I continued into the next cavern, which also proved empty. The cavern beyond that containing the chests also proved unchanged, and in climbing to the peep-hole I could see that little of the great cavern beyond could be seen, and that that could be seen, while still lit by flickering torches, contained nothing of interest.
Returning therefore to my more sluggish and noisy companions, I therefore boldly, yet silently and invisibly crept into the main cavern and saw that in addition to the four skeletons at the very back, as before, there were now three skeletons at that strange stone counter three fourths of the way to the back, and they appeared to carry bows. I relayed this information to my companions, and suggested that we should use some incantation to prevent the skeletons with bows from shooting at us as we approached them up the cave. Fortunately, Sorrel has just such an incantation, so she invoked a great cloud of fog which blocked most of the view of the cavern from halfway along it, stopping the skeletons seeing us. I sneaked along the left hand side of the cavern while my companions boldly advanced up the centre. We emerged from the cloud of fog and started a two pronged attack on the three bow-armed skeletons. The other four attacked around the counter, while I scrambled across it and attacked from from the flank, throwing them into much confusion. They were reinforced by the four skeletons from the back of the chamber and I now saw the hooded figure of the nefarious necromancer back there, now completely undefended. Reasoning that if I were to kill him, all the skeletons would cease fighting, as surely his insane will must be all that was driving them forward, I started to sneak quietly towards him, but he took fright and rushed off down a passageway behind him.  I gave chase as fast as I possibly could, throwing all caution and self-preservation to the wind, but was unable to catch him before the tunnel split into two passageways. I followed one path, hoping it was the right one, but they rejoined as they entered a final chamber, hung with purple drapes, so it turned out that either path would have been the true path.  In the centre of the cavern was a strange glowing orb resting on a stand constructed entirely of skeletal human arms. Above the orb was a strange symbol.  I started creeping around the chamber, until my companions finally arrived, unfortunately having had a rather tough time of defeating the skeletons without me to lead and help them. As they entered the chamber, being unable to sidle quietly in as I can, they were obviously seen, for a voice rang our, telling them to grovel before the might sign of someone or other, obviously some weird fiend that this deranged lunatic purported to worship. Feyabelle obviously thought she could tell where the voice was coming from, as she fired an arrow towards the back of the chamber, but it was a foolish gesture and it merely snagged into one the hangings. In a moment of pure inspiration, I cast an illusion over the glowing sphere and symbol to make it appear that it was not longer glowing or present, respectively, and that obviously enraged the necromancer enough for him to burst out of his hiding place, waving a short bone wand, cursing and chanting enchantments which however seemed to be of little effect on us. Sorrell plugged him with a crossbow bolt in the centre of his chest though, and Arielle leapt forward and gave him a might blow with his staff. The necromancer staggered but was still standing and starting to raise his wand before a well placed slingshot from me caved in his skull, killing him instantly and saving my companions from his devastating magics. We searched him and the cavern, finding a considerable quantity of silver and golden coins, and some polished pieces of jet (enough cash for me to buy a light crossbow and some better leather armour when we returned to town, albeit not quite enough after that to settle either of my bar-tabs, let alone both), and an ancient leather bound journal. Taking these, and the bone wand and glowing crystal sphere, we returned to Red Larch, to tell all and sundry that the so-called Lord of Lance Rock was dead.
Our return to Red Larch was greeted with joy, and Kaylesa even gave us the money she had promised for dealing with the evil at Lance Rock, most of my share of which went straight back to her to settle some various outstanding debts for various services and sundries. Our tales were listened to well into the night, and it was the next morning before I was able to examine the journal that we had found. Unusually, it proved not to be a journal at all, but a seried of mysterious incantations. Looking at them, I found that some of the wizardly miscellany that I had picked up from my mother in my youth came back to me, and some of the incantations I could even understand. Among these, I found that some minor spells of mending, prestidigitation, and a useful sounding little cantrip for the secret sending of messages. Amongst more complex incantations, I found ones called Nystor’s Irrepressible Slumber, Ever-Faithful Flaming Bolt, Foldor’s Foggy Cloud (which sounded very similar to the incantation that Sorrell had used) and also some notes that I saw would allow me to generate a more potent form of the minor illusionary tricks that I had already mastered, in addition to two rituals, one for summoning a familiar from the upper or lower regions and giving it a form most useful to one, and the other for the understanding and reading of languages of utmost obscurity. All in all most useful, although the binding of the tome is in a leather the providence of which I suspect is most disturbing and which therefore I aim not to dwell upon at length.  In addition, arcane inquiry showed that the bone wand which we had found was capable of generating fiery arrows of its own accord, even up to 18 such each day, although it is slow to recharge its potential once exhausted, like a clock spring that has been overwound too often and then allowed to run long past its useful tension and is powering a clock three sizes to large for its own capacity.
Thus excited by these new found tricks and opportunities for entertainment, we spent a merry day appreciating the gifts of life, having so recently seen the contrary, and wondering what tomorrow will bring.  That said, I fear that my new found interest in all things magical and mystical means that I am unable to devote the time I heretofore was used to devote to practicing my card tricks and sleights of hands with which I was wont to delight the crowds.

This being the third volume of the journal of Eldon Orryn Folky.  Having decided that Waterdeep is a most unpleasant city in the heat of summer, I have decided to come up country and see if I can find some quiet town or towns that are suitable for me to ply my trade for the summer months, far from the bustle and stench of the city.  After several weeks, I have arrived at Red Larch, which was suggested to me by an acquaintance in Waterdeep as being a most suitable place, and even provided me with a letter of introduction to Endrith Vellivoe, who runs a general store in the town.

Endrith seemed to be a flighty sort of fellow, with tales of strange happenings hereabouts, indeed many of the townspeople seemed to be given to these sorts of flights of fancy, which I assume is due to the distinct lack of any other excitement or entertainment.  That said, I found good lodgings at an Inn called the Swinging Sword, albeit that the food was distinctly poor, but they were willing enough to allow me a line of credit on my board which may yet come to my advantage.  Opposite there is a most lively Tavern called the Helm at High-Sun, wherein I have been able to entertain many of the townsfolk with little tricks and slights of hand, and earn a few drinks thereby.  There are also often a few locals who are willing to partake in a game of risk and I have kept a small income going by my exceeding luck in these games, or so I keep telling them.  But I have been generous with my winnings and there seems no harm held against me, for I am putting on my most charming and roguish face, and telling them all tall tales of my doings in Waterdeep and the mansion that I keep there when I am not upcountry looking for novelties that I can sell in Waterdeep or other ports up and down the Sword Coast.  The only mark against it is that the food is of a most indifferent quality.

There are few other strangers who linger in town, although caravans are often passing through, but in the last few days there is one group that have caught my eye, for several reasons.  I know not if they came severally or together, for they seemed to appear at different times, yet seem so well matched that I cannot but assume that they are companions of long acquaintance who have just maneuvered that it should appear that they meet here in Red Larch as strangers to each other.  They are all elven maidens, of passing comeliness, and indeed passing comeliness in an elven maiden is often accounted surpassing beauty amongst humans (although nothing surpasses the flashing eye and teasing grin of an gnomish maid, at least in my mind).  But I digress, although on a subject keen to my heart.  These three maidens are out of the normal sort, for they go about well armed and with well worn travelling clothes that show they have come from far.  One indeed is I think from the High Forest, although obviously a farther part of it for she had not heard of my grandfather who was Lord of all the Forest Gnomes of that part of the High Forest whence I come, nor of my much renowned clan.  But they are not wealthy my any means, so I fear may be down on their luck, but obviously from their manners and habits are not used to human lands as I am, for they are at times quick to take offense.

Anyhow, I introduced myself to these visions of pulchritude for passers through are good companions for they do not linger to see how my luck can hold for many days, and I reckoned that they would like some entertainment and although their purses had but few coins, their harness was of good quality and mayhap I could wager myself some good steel.  But I found that while they were happy enough with my company, wagering and games were not to their taste, and moreover, they did not seem inclined to move on, but almost seemed to have business in Red Larch, although the nature of this business did not become evident.  They were willing, though, more than me, to listen to all the tales of strange doings and events, and seemed concerned about these, even though they affected only strangers.  Two of them indeed talked much of nature and balance and such things, and seemed deeply concerned about events that were perturbing that natural order, which I am also concerned about, on behalf of my people, for few know the rhythms of the forest as we do.

So, one morning, as I was breakfasting in the Swinging Sowrd and flirting delightfully with Kaylessa, the owner, my paramours approached me and said that they were off to the quarry for they had heard that strangers had been seen lurking around there at night.  I pointed out that it was now daytime, but they said that they wish to speak to the owner and find what the problem was at source.  I was unsure what had provoked either their sudden interest, or their wish to include me in the matter, but I assumed that boredom must have caused the first, and since I had little else to do this morning, I decided to join them.

The quarry, Mellikho’s Stoneworks, for those who know not Red Larch, is on the outskirts of town, so is only a five minute walk, and hence not that discommoding.  They entered the office there, while I had a little wander around the quarry itself, making sure to keep myself discreet and unnoticed, for which I have quite a talent, which is possibly what recommended me to Sorrell, Feyabelle and Arielle (for such are their names, and it is good to name them now for they may play a more permanent part in this tale from now on) in the first place.  They soon emerged however, and said that the proprietress, Albaeri Mellikho, had claimed that nothing was at issue save an over consumption of liquor during the night shift, but giving us rumour of a cave not far off that was said to be filled with much treasure.  Now my wallet has been feeling rather light recently and the though of being able to settle a few debts and maybe get a decent meal, if such a thing is possible here in Red Larch.  So I readily acquiesced in their proposal to investigate this cave, and we soon found it given the instructions we had been vouchsafed.  The entrance was a narrow and muddy crack in a small  cliff not far off the path, with many tracks entering and exiting.  Concealing myself with an incantation, I peered silently into the cave, but saw little.  Carefully and quietly as only I can be, I entered.  Inside it was crowded with pillars and columns of rock, dripping with water.  I started looking for this treasure when suddenly I was assaulted by a demonic looking bird of some kind, which stabbed me in the shoulder with a long proboscis.  Three others were assaulting the elven maidens, so I rapidly dispatched the one that was perched on me and rushed to their aid.  The other three were rapidly dispatched, but on investigation the cave proved to be empty of any treasure of any kind.  We had been played like rookies, and I had to laugh when I saw how gullible we had been, although my companions seemed more put out by the trick that had been played on us.

We returned to Red Larch, and Arielle was kind enough to persuade the priest at the Allfaiths Shrine to heal my shoulder before sepsis set in.  I made sure that Kaylessa at the Swinging Sword saw it before though, so that she could see how gravely I was injured and yet how I bore it with good humour and spirit.  It obviously impressed her with my bravery and fortitude, for over lunch she suggested that if it were adventure and wealth that we sought, then there were rumours that some terrible evil dwelt at Lance Rock, which was only a few miles outside of town and that we could make names for ourselves by dealing with it in a suitably heroic way.  I readily agreed, for we all know that young maids will swoon for a good hero, and my companions were easily talked around to the expedition.

We easily found Lance Rock, but on that trail leading up to it through a thicket of brambles, we also found a crudely made sign warning us that disease and death lay ahead.  We discarded such warnings as unfitting for heroes such as us to take account of, and I led us quietly up to the rock.  At the base of the mound on which it stood, I found a small cave mouth.  I stole quietly in and found a corpse of an almost naked man spreadeagled within the corridor.  We cautiously passed this, and beyond I found a cave with two other exits, and a low altar-like bloodstained stone in the centre.  I crept silently across; leaving the others in the passage outside, and up the right hand corridor.  At the end was a small cave with a dozen corpses and skeletons stacked within – a disturbing sight indeed.  Returning to the main cave, I saw that Arielle had also entered, so I crossed the floor to tell her of my gruesome discovery.  She was obviously not as stealthy as me though, so there was a sudden rattle, and we both leapt back as a shower of stones and rocks fell upon us from a ledge over the entrance, followed by two humans, who jumped clumsily down.  The reason for their clumsiness soon became apparent as we realised that these were also corpses, but animated by some unholy magics.  They were slow moving though, and little match for my quick rapier work, and were rapidly dispatched.

Venturing down the left hand corridor, I found another cave, with many nooks and crannies, and containing three more of these unholy corpses, but this time dressed as a bear, a woman and a jester.  I pride myself on an unusual sense of humour, but whoever’s caves these were had a stranger sense still than me.  I crept unobserved into the cave a secreted myself in a nook, and waited for my companions to arrive.  They finally blundered down the tunnel and into the cave, and attacked the three zombies.  I used this opportunity to leap out and skewer one of them while they were engaged from the front.  Arielle was severely wounded by a one of them, and was forced to withdraw, but I set to with redoubled valour and skewered all three of them with attacks from the rear, dancing to avoid their clumsy lunges.  Continuing down the left hand tunnel out of this cave, I entered a vast cavern, lit by guttering torches.  A tall figure in a black cloak was standing by another altar stone, apparently stitching a selection of body parts, of which there were a great many scattered around, together.  I returned to my companions, who were engaged in healing Arielle, and ventured down the right hand tunnel,  It ended in a small cave with two iron chests.  Excited, I prodded at one, to check it was truely just a chest and then sneaked forward to check it for traps.  While so doing, I became aware of a breathing sound, and looking around saw a small hole high in the wall of the cave where a glimmer of the torch light shone through.  I crept to the base of the wall below it and climbed quietly up, and was rewarded by hearing a voice muttering, questioning where I had disappeared to.  I was unable to see anything from this side of the spy-hole, but using my new found vantage point, cast an illusion in front of the hole of the vision of the cave and the two iron chests.  I then climbed back to the floor and examined the chests, secure in the protection of my illusion from any sight from above.  Unfortunately, both chests proved to be empty completely of any contents.

Returning to my companions, I filled them in on my bold and daring exploits, and we decided to attack the necromancer in his laid.  I entered first and quietly moved in the shadows around the edge of the cave in order to start behind him.  My excellent perception also allowed me to notice that there were four skeletons standing at the far end of the room, and another hooded figure with them.  The maidens then entered and started shooting at the necromancer, except Arielle who leapt forward to engage with a becoming recklessness.  As they did, half a dozen dismembered hands leapt from baskets of body parts and scuttled forward to engage them, but once they had recovered from their horror at them, they proved to be just a minor distraction.  I continued to boldly hurl slingshots at the figure in the black cloak, who turned out to be another animated corpse.  He swiftly fell before my onslaught, so I concealed myself again, for the four skeletons were advancing down the cavern towards us and I saw that it would fall perforce to me to handle them, as the fair elves were now sorely wounded.  Indeed their various wounds from the attentions of the dead, were such that when the true necromancer at the far end of the chamber offered to spare them if they departed, they did so with alacrity.  He gave a great account of himself, ranting and claiming to be Lord of Lance Rock, but it all seemed front and bluff to me and I suspect that he was sorely bullied as a small child to have grown to such a curious and warped fellow.  A skeletal warrior, crackling with unholy energies, followed them, so I followed it in turn most quietly to ensure that no further devilry was planned, and intervene to save them if it were, but it merely followed them to the entrance and departed, so I also departed and caught up with my rapidly departing companions in order to protect them from any further assault in their weakened state.  In this manner we returned to Red Larch and a most welcome mug of ale, and some variously indifferent food.  We recounted our tales of horror and daring to much excitement in the public bar of the Helm.

Having dealt with the menace of Black Spider we have some well earned sleep.  We then return to the cave with the crevasse and have a really good search, finally uncovering the skeleton of a dwarf miner with some very chunky looking gloves.  Aramil tries them on and finds that his strength is magically much increased, so he decides to keep them.

We then return to the cave with the Forge of Spells in it.  There is unfinished business with the wraith, who could be a tough opponent.  We decide therefore, since he spoke to us, and since reasoning with the mad beholder went so well, that we might try talking to him as well.  We open the door and he forms before our eyes as before.  This time, though, we ask him why his soul is restlessly stalking the material plane.  He ponders and gives us a long story about how he was the last of the defenders and the mightiest wizard here, but even he fell defending the Forge.  He is now trying to preserve all the magical items that remain and keep them safe.  If we are willing to get rid of the guardian of the forge, then he will reward us with coins from his treasure chest, for he has no use for them.  We tell him that we have dismissed the guardian, but he does not believe us until Garrett shows him his normal dagger, then goes and enchants it in the forge and returns to show us it is enchanted.  The wraith then allows us to take all the coins from his chest, but not the pipe.  We examine the chest, and there is indeed a hoard in there, as well as an old and well worn smoking-pipe, which we leave as instructed.  The wraith then offers us a chance to look through his shelves of tomes and scrolls if we give him something similar in return.  We offer the scroll of Augury (a spell of strictly limited utility) and have a look.  Unfortunately we find no scrolls of Wish or similar, but do find an intriguing old map stuffed into the flysheets of one old book.

We find little else in the caverns, and so decide to return with Tobler to Phandalin, where we receive a cordial welcome from Gudrun and Sildar.  No sign of Glasstaff anywhere – we shall have to cast our nets further afield.  Our plan to finish off the last Redbrands at the Sleepy Giant is forestalled by discovering that they have all scarpered, including the grumpy proprietress.

Fortified, we return to Thundertree to help out the druid as we promised.  We find him easily, and discover that nothing much has changed.  Aramil persuades us that rather than just heading straight for the tower, and the dragon, we should have a check of the rest of the village first.  We find that the route to both the tower and the rest of the village is blocked by a wall of webs anyway, so spend a merry couple of minutes slaughtering two giant spiders before continuing.  We find a village square with a statue to some minor hero, a fortified watch tower with some ash zombies in it, and then at the far end of the village, a barricaded house.  Garrett and Aramil knock on the door, with Elaina and myself covering them and hidden.  The house turns out to have 6 complete loonies living there, who appear to worship dragons and want to befriend this dragon.  They are very interested in Garrett and Aramil joining their cult.  A plan starts to form in my mind, that we could offer the dragon 6 willing victims if it agrees to leave the village and move elsewhere.  I am sure it would give the loonies the buzz of their lives to be actually eaten by the dragon.  Or maybe it would get it into their stupid heads that dragons are not cute and cuddly.  Either way, its a win for the forces of sanity.

Aramil slips out though, and we have a conflab on the plan.  They agree that the cultists could provide useful ablative cover, so Garrett and Aramil will offer to lead them to the dragon, given all their experience in dealing with dragons.  Meanwhile, he suggests that since the watchtower has arrow slits overlooking the tower, and has arrow slits, it would provide a good place for me to snipe at the dragon from.  I heartily concur, as studded leather has been shown in repeated tests to provide very little protecting against dragon breath.  We burst into the tower and start killing the ash zombies one at a time after Aramil has turned them all.  It turns out that they are heavy smokers and each time you hit them they try to share a little passive smoking with you in the hope that you will die of a lingering lung disease in 20 years time, so Elaina and I pull back and shoot them down while Aramil goes toe to toe with the forces of Big Tobacco.  We finish them off relatively quickly, and I start preparing my ambush point.

5th day of Mirkul (possibly)

Before we start the rest though, we decide to quickly go and check on the bugbears that we had tied up.  We discover that they have been freed – their ropes were cut – so obviously Black Spider or another of his henchmen (henchbears? henchbugs?) have been here.  We withdraw to the cavern with the glowing brazier and have our short rest.  We debate on whether to confront the wraith again, but decide that it looks a bit too scary for us, so decide to go and talk to the senile beholder again, and persuade it that we are the new owners of Wave Echo Cave, and all the wizards it used to serve are dead.

We enter the building and hear its familiar burbling voice in our heads.  Garrett starts speaking (or sub-vocalising to it).  He tells it that all of the wizards that it used to serve are long dead, having died in some great battle outside.  It looks quizzical (possibly, difficult to tell on a disembodied eye), and asks us to confirm this a few times.  Then it just suddenly vanishes.

We wait a while to see if it will reappear, before deciding that possibly it had been bound by the wizards and so is now free.  Garrett examines the brazier of green flame and mutters some exploratory incantations over it.  I go and look at the remaining workbenches and find a very fine looking brass headed mace and a breastplate with a dragon’s head on it.  Garrett extends his incantations to examine these items as well.  Aramil takes the mace, which is sacred to Lathanader and is called Lightbringer.  Elaina takes the breastplate, which was made for a hero of Neverwinter called Turgon and is called Dragonguard.  Usefully, it gives extra resistance to dragon’s breath.

It turns out that the flaming brazier will also make mundane items temporarily magical as well, so we dip our weapons and armour into it, and go hunting for Black Spider.  We return to the wave cavern and up the ledge to the far end.  We find a natural fissure where a stream once obviously flowed, but is now dry.  I scout ahead, and find a good sized chasm with a wide fissure across it.  There is the noise of rocks being moved, and I see two bugbears down at the bottom of the fissure, moving rocks around.  Ropes lead up to the floor on the far side, where a further bugbear is supervising them.  I wait and continue to observe, and see a drow is also there as well – this time this must be Black Spider.  We decide that trying to fight them across the fissure is not ideal, as they can easily flee if they start losing, so decide to find the other route into that cave.  We return through the bugbear room, then up the corridor and turn right.  Ahead we hear the noise of the bugbears, so know we are close.  I return to the forge room, and scout up the water channel, guessing that it should also come out into that cavern.  I am correct, and the ambush is set.

I start by shooting the drow, having previously magically marked his as my quarry.  Garrett leaps forward and casts a spectacularly useless shatter spell.  Aramil casts an invocation at the bugbear that freezes it in place, while Elaina slashes at the drow twice, but only hits it once.  The drow now draws a sword and attacks Elaina with little effect.  I shoot it again.  Garrett casts another incantation at the drow, and it drops to the floor.  Aramil hits the still frozen bugbear with his new mace.  Elaina rushes forward and cuts one of the ropes that a bugbear is climbing, causing it to tumble to the floor.  I shoot the other bugbear, and Garrett leaps forward and stabs it with his rapier.  It clutches its face in agony and falls from the rope, breaking its neck as it hits the cavern floor.  Aramil hits the frozen bugbear again, but his blow is deflected by its armour.  Elaina steps in and delivers the coup de grace, while I shoot the final bugbear at the bottom of the rift.

We examine the body of the drow to find that this one has also reverted to a doppleganger form like the last drow.  Was this really Black Spider?  Are all the Black Spiders dopplegangers?  Is there one Black Spider somewhere who is sending out all these duplicates?  Will we ever work out what is going on?

4th day of Mirkul (probably)

Our long rest passes surprisingly uneventfully and we prepare to fight the flaming skull and zombies in the forge chamber again (unless there is a different flaming skull behind this door, which is a prospect too worrying to consider).  We come up with a fairly cunning plan (well, a plan at least), and unbar the door.  There is a short corridor and T-junction beyond before it opens into the room beyond, which appears to be the same forge chamber.

I advance in and let off a shot at the skull, hitting it with an arrow.  It returns fire with two flame bolts, severely wounding me.  I realise that a second round of that sort of damage will kill me.  Elaina enters and starts hacking at the nearest zombies.  Garrett enters and uses his shatter enchantment on the skull.  The zombies flail around a bit and advance on us.  Aramil enters and presents his holy symbol – three of the zombies and the flaming skull retreat from him.  The zombies flee from the room but the flaming skull just backs into the far corner – it is obviously tied to this room.

Free from being attacked by the skull, I heal myself, and also get some healing from Aramil.  Garrett and Elaina start hacking at the remaining zombies – they are surprisingly resilient, but in the end we all pile in and manage to finish them off finally.  Then we heal up and consider the skull, which we know will soon be able to attack us again.  Garrett hits it with another shatter spell, and Elaina casts magic missile on it not once but twice, using her action surge.  The skull explodes into shards of bone and falls to the floor.  We have won, amazingly!  And without anyone dying.

We explore the room, but find nothing unusual.  I go east down the dried up water channel, since the booming noise is loudest from there.  It emerges on a narrow ledge in a large, flooded chamber.  Periodically a wave of water crashes against the cliff below the ledge, creating the booming sound.  The waters smell sulphurous and the air is warm and damp – possibly this connects to a volcano or hot spring of some kind, which might be causing the surges.  I follow the ledge to the right, and enter another tunnel that ends in a very large chamber containing a blackened building, and many skeletons.  The doors of the building are ajar and I peer in.  There is a weird glowing brazier within.  I back away and go down a corridor on the west wall, which I hope will rejoin the forge chamber.  It does, and I am reunited with the rest of the party.

We all now enter the large chamber and open the doors of the building within.  The interior is also smashed up – we reckon this might be the wreckage from the spell battle that we heard was the climax of the battle of Wave Echo Cave three hundred years ago.  The glowing brazier in the centre might be the Forge of Spells that we have heard tell of.  A strange floating sphere with a large central eye and four eyes on stalks rises behind it, and we feel a voice talking to us in our heads.  It seems friendly, and it explains that this is the Forge of Spells and that it is guarding it for the wizards who have just stepped out for a minute and will be back soon.  We describe Glasstaff to see if he is one of the wizards, but he doesn’t recognise the description.  I think that because the only way into this chamber is through the forge, and the skull has been guarding that entrance, possibly no one has been in here since the battle three hundred years ago.  In which case either this creature has a poor sense of time, or is completely insane.  The wizards who popped out a couple of minutes ago are almost certainly the skeletons in the chamber outside.

The guardian is friendly, but seems adamant that we can’t touch anything until the wizards return, so we decide not to ignore him, and explore the further reaches of the cavern.  We find that there is an upper step and another building, also blackened and damaged.  We prise open the door to this, and peer inside.  The floor is covered in dust, which rises up before our eyes to form a wraith that accuses us of coming to steal its treasure.  We retreat rapidly – two sets of undead in one day is too much for us.  We go further south in the cavern, and find that it opens into another, fungus filled cavern.  This is familiar to us from before.  We opt to have a short rest outside the building with the wraith.

3rd day of Mirtul

Having celebrated our success at Cragmaw Castle (and the Greengrass festival) with much revelry at Phandolin, we ask Gundrun to tell us where Wave Echo Cave is, which he willingly does.  It turns out to be surprisingly close to Phandalin after all.  We find the cave entrance without difficulty and venture in.  We find an encampment in the first cave, and the recently dead body of a dwarf, who we assume is the third of the dwarven brothers.  His boots prove interesting (I don’t remember why the sudden interest in footwear) and Garrett takes them upon discovering that they make him more fleet of foot and generally bouncy.  At least he should now be able to keep up with us.

At the far end of the cave is a large sinkhole, with a rope tied, which we descend.  Below we find a widened part of a long fissure, which we explore.  There is a warren of small tunnels running off it, which seems to be the long abandoned mine workings.  We find a round room with many long dead dwarves and orcs, obviously a relic of the fall of the mines long ago.  Beyoind this room we find a vast, fungi filled cavern, which we decide not to explore.  To the south we find several rooms – one has a collapsed ceiling and more skeletons, except these ones animate and attack us.  In another chamber we find an iron strongbox which we are unable to open.

Further north, we find another chamber where we are attacked by 3 ghouls.  We manage to defeat them without loss and penetrate further into a confusing maze of galleries.  We find some stairs going upwards and ascend into a huge chamber where we are attacked by seven ghouls.  This time Elaina is briefly paralyzed by one of them, but again we defeat them.  The central section of the cavern is lower, and we descend some steps, to find a banqueting chamber, again strewn with ancient dead.  Venturing down a cavern to the north, we reach an ancient forge, with more bodies, and a floating, green glowing skull.  Garrett casts an illusion to distract it, and we attempt to rush across the chamber while it is distracted, but the dwarves in there rise and shamble towards us.  The glowing skull also attacks us, firing fiery beams from its eye-sockets.  We are badly mauled, and retreat rapidly to the large chamber again.  We try to take a rest there, but notice another of those strange ceiling worms from Cragmaw on the ceiling, so decide to move on.  We return to the chamber where we killed the 3 ghouls and rest briefly there, before continuing exploring.

After a long period getting lost in the warren, we find another door, behind which I head voices talking in goblin.  We burst in, to find 5 bugbears in there.  The fight is vicious, and we are badly wounded again, but manage to kill three of them.  Garrett sleeps another one, and the final one surrenders.  We notice that the far door is barricaded, and he tells us that it is because there are zombies and a glowing skull beyond.  He also tells us that they serve the Black Spider, and that he is laired somewhere nearby.  We decide that we need to have a long period of rest and recuperation if possible in this chamber.