The warrior determined the torturer was creating the skeletons in league with the cultists, and the archer cadre was the same foe, so we attempted to mislead them over our violent appearance, this was not successful, with a volley of arrows striking one of our dwarf warriors, although saved by his magical axe.
Spying the archers surrounding a cauldron of oil, our thief rushed forward to send forth a dragon breath enchanted from his armour, the archers perished in flame and the oil exploded in a mighty burst catching several of us with molten steel and fire, but clearing the way, so we pushed forward.
An army of hairies awaited us before the exit, charging to attack, but the mage and I whispered our magic and decimated them with sleep and paralysis, the rest running as we slit defenceless throats and rifled their loot, we were at last free of the accursed dungeon.
The warrior, upon hearing cries for help, discovered a lone dwarf smith, chained to his forge, who we rescued, and we returned to the keep battered and bloody but loaded with loot for the cause and happy our souls are ready to fight another day.
I remained in solitude as my grasp now burdened with this cursed mace, pondering that Mar Nod cast his mighty hand of chaos and this be my reward or penance.