Expedition 18B - Rarder's Account

Oh, how sweet the air is, and how comforting sun is, when you escape from a prison buried deep below some mad-man's tower! Once more, I write this in hurry, during a brief moment of respite.

We were assaulted by three ghouls, just moments after venturing into the tower. I don't know if it was due to some wicked magic, or our tiredness from days of travel, but our clerics failed their prayers, whilst myself and dwarves failed to protect our flesh.

I felt a mere scratch, before succumbing to floor like a sack of potatoes. Paralysed, unable to move, I had to endure Rozza's screams and gargles. I could hear Hat's rushing footsteps, and his body falling to the ground. Amos was muttering his prayers until he wasn't. A thud. And then silence. Followed by pitch black darkness.

As a child I used to hunt with my father. Once we hunted a bear, following it into it's lair. A sudden gust of wind extinguished our torch. It was pitch black. I could only hear our heartbeats, pumping with adrenaline.

But this time it was different. I opened my eyes to complete darkness; in some sort of cell. I touched myself—aching—and realised that I've been stripped of all my possessions—sans undergarments. And they seemed tattered...   

Amos was next to me, sitting I reckon, muttering his prayers. Dwarves were in neighbouring cells, arguing between themselves how sturdy are the bars, walls, floors...

Whilst they were chattering, I crawled, and crawled, and clawed. The only warmth I felt was the blood coming out of my fingers. My efforts did not go unrewarded! A piece of wall collapsed, revealing some sort of tunnel. I could feel that it wasn't a chiselled one.

Another wall was at the end of tunnel. Amos cast his spell, making a piece of rock glow. I carefully clasped it in my right hand, and used my left to let out some light between my bloody fingers.

A tunnel connected into a caver: doors to the left, staircase going up. Eager to escape, we snuck up. Another junction: some sort of room to the left, and staircase going up.

And further up went; hoping to either find and exit or reclaim our equipment. We entered a room with three plinths, two empty, and one with a statue depicting a snake biting some sort of large cat.

Amos hid behind the statue, and I went further up. It's been hours, and although I was pumped with adrenaline, the cold and blood loss got the better of me. I was not careful enough with the enchanted stone, and held it as a torch, projecting light far ahead of me. For that I was duly punished — by four spear-wielding skeletons around the corner.

They rushed me, and I retreated back down; they stabbed at me, and I deflected and evaded. Amos joined the fray, his god finally bestowing him with some righteousness—he succeeded in turning this wicked critters! We crushed their skulls, and took their spears.

The rock started to flicker and wane, indicating that we don't have much time left. Pressing onwards, we traversed a T shaped corridor. There were doors on the both sides; we opted for the left ones.

Armed, tired, and out of time, I kicked down the doors with all my might! Ghouls! The same damn ghouls that took us down! Back we fled, barricading the doors; retreating back to the room with the statue.

Much to my delight, we met rest of the party there as well. They managed to pick the locks of their cells, although some of them have received a beating from some hulking undead.

Without much time, we went back up, and faced ghouls once more. Artzua, on the brink of death!, managed to summon her god to help her turn this evil away. Amos and I felled one each. Brotherhood forged in fire! Oh, how I enjoyed skewering the emaciated wickedness!

Remembering our mission—to retrieve evidence about the fall of elves—we grabbed one of the ghoulish corpses, and ran out. Mules were nothing but a bloody mess, but we managed to retrieve some of our supplies.

I see the party is ready to move on, so I'll stop here.