The party continued its fight against the phantom warriors in the crypt, with the enraged flaming skeleton behind them. Jorn, in the front line, took a few hard hits as he fired off his Turn Undead, which knocked them apart. The group held a good formation as they battled the phantoms, who were protected by their insubstantiality {they took half damage from everything except for force, and nobody had force attacks.} Meanwhile, the flaming skeleton repeatedly targeted Jorn with its flame orbs, croaking, “I want my lantern back!” Jorn tried to fool the skeleton into taking the lantern from the pirate ship instead, but the skeleton saw through this ruse and replied by setting Jorn on fire repeatedly. When one of the phantom warriors fell, its misty blood spreading across the crypt floor, the other warrior croaked out a name in an old, nearly incomprehensible tongue. Zepher recognised it as the tongue of the land of the mountains to the north of Nentir Vale and its capital Vlekstaad. These often-called barbarians are hale folk used to cold and war, using their longboats to raid up and down the coast of the sea on which Vlekstaad sits. Before the fall of the Nerath Empire, mercenaries from this area were often paid to add to the ranks of the King’s forces, and this is the likely origin of these phantoms, who fell long before the fall of the Empire, when the Keep was new. This also explained the Kordian influence in this tomb, as this is the chosen god of these tough northern people. The final room of the tomb showed mosaics, carvings, and altars to Kord. Realising this, the party decided to stop looting the skeletons of their burial jewellery. Soon the second phantom fell—without his fellow soldier his attacks were not as strong—and only the flaming skeleton was left. It threw itself at Jorn in a fury, clawing and burning him, but was soon dispatched.

The party earns 1800 XP, split 6 ways = 300 each

The party looked around this final room. In the corner were cracks leading downward. Scattered around the room were splashes and gouts of blood, but it was not theirs—the healers in the party recognised it was about a day old. The more perceptive members noticed smears and footprints in the blood that match Lev’s, so they deduced Lev might have gotten into a fight here. Also in the blood, set down very sharply and perhaps deliberately, was another pointed bootprint: Fenstrom. Looking at the cracks, on the sharp edges of the stone was a tacky slime of what seemed like semi-dissolved skin, which smelled of acid. Perhaps Lev had taken some damage from the gelatinous cube before fleeing down the cracks.

Though a door led out of the crypt, the party was confident they knew which trail to follow, and soon they confirmed they were correct: after slipping down the cracks they entered a narrow cave passage, and in the green slime on its floor they saw Lev’s footprints clearly, as well as Fenstrom’s. The party followed the cave passage roughly east for a while. Then the tracks parted: Fenstrom’s continued east, but Lev’s went up a different passage, which led south and upward. The party decided to go after Lev—though was sneaky, annoying, and deceitful, he did not deserve to die in this place. After a few minutes, the cave passage widened enough that a medium-sized creature could walk and occasionally squeeze along. They passed another fair-sized cave fissure leading sharply upward. It seemed strange that Lev had not taken this passage up, since he apparently was seeking a way out. But his tracks passed it by. Just at that point, a new set of tracks joined Lev’s, and the perceptive ones in the party could detect a few disturbing things. The new tracks were on top of Lev’s as if following him. Also, the tracks were bare foot and hand prints, humanoid, but apparently with long, sharp, clawlike fingernails, and the flesh of these hands and feet must have been withered and desiccated. After some distance they came to signs of a struggle: in the slime were scuff marks as if there had been a fight between Lev and whatever was following him. More blood was splattered on the stone—it did not look like enough to kill someone, but serious. They also found a long, sharp, broken-off fingernail which was so old and tattered it looked like it could have come from a corpse. This, and flakes of skin that also looked long dead, gave Jorn a terrible certainty that Lev had been pursued by ghouls. One had dropped down behind him and followed him into a waiting ambush from another ahead. They flanked Lev and took him down. These creatures, the undead remains of those who lived lives of cannibalism or gluttony, plague graveyards and battlefields by eating corpses. But even more they love living flesh. It was likely they did not kill Lev, but captured him and took him back to their den. They sometimes control themselves for a while, eating a prisoner bit by bit while he is still alive, to keep the meat fresh. But they always eventually lose patience and devour their prisoner within a few days. If Lev were still alive, it would not be for long. So the party bravely decided to continue.

Jorn told them what he knew about ghouls: they were stealthy and good at climbing. They attack with claws and bites that tend to immobilize and stun, the better to attack victims. They are often vulnerable to radiant damage, and being undead, resistant to disease and necrosis. The tracks led into a tunnel which had been hacked into the sandstone to join the cave. Shortly this tunnel opened up into a wider space. The dark shadow mist was here as well so it was hard to see, but it was apparently an underground room finished with crumbling brick. The walls, 10 feet high, were made of uneven brick, and most of the interior and edges were simply tall piles of collapse, leaving narrow, tight passages winding through the rubble. The earthquake must have devastated this place. It did not look anything like the Keep’s architecture and likely was not connected to it—which made Theren realise that the Wizard’s Escape effect might wear off quickly here.

Then they heard singing, an agonised voice echoing through the ruin ahead. It was Lev, singing what Theren recognised as a ballad often sung at far happier times in the Snake’s Head. Now it sounded like Lev was fending off insanity with this song. He sounded delirious and filled with false bravado. Also, they heard echoing horrible sounds of slurping, chewing, and eating. The party decided to move in quickly, with Stek in the lead.

There was blood spattered here and there but it was all over, as if the ghouls had set Lev free for a while to run in a panic around the ruin, providing the thrill of the chase. It was very difficult to tell from which direction Lev’s voice came due to the echoes in this crumbling ruin. The first few who entered did their best {the DM rolling Perception in secret, with a failure more than 5 resulting in a random direction} and chose the left passage as the one leading most directly to Lev. Jorn, however, thought the right passage was the better one, and set off on his own. The party pleaded with him to stick together, but Jorn did not heed them and soon was away and down a corridor. Zepher started to follow but was stopped in his tracks as a ghoul dropped from the wall to which it clung and blocked the narrow passage between Jorn and Zepher. It was gangly, covered with greenish skin that looked stretched too tight. Its long, sharp, nasty fingernails clacked in the echoing dark as it waved a horrifying greeting, matched by an evil grin with long, crooked teeth. It slashed at Zepher and dug its nails into the wizard’s flesh, pinning him in place. {Claw attacks from these solider type ghouls immobilize the target, save ends. This also sets them up for a devastating bite attack against the immobilised.}

Meanwhile, Stek had ventured ahead of the party enough to create a gap, into which dropped another ghoul. Now the party was broken up into three pieces, and as more ghouls appeared, they were flanked. These abominations were on their home turf and knew very well how to take advantage. Battles broke out on all fronts. Eventually they were up against three ghouls with greenish, leathery, tight skin and hooked claws {the soldiers} and two ghouls with grey, puffy skin and enormous jaws {the brutes}. The latter could at times unhinge their jaws for a devastating bite attack, and otherwise could stun their victims with hammering fist blows. Theren called out for Lev, who in turn stopped singing for a moment, then started chuckling. His echoing voice said, as if to himself, “Oh man, I must be getting ready to die if I am dreaming this. The heroic last minute rescue… that’s too cliché, even for Theren…”

Jorn was isolated, and plunged ahead, following Lev’s voice. Soon he came upon Lev. He was lying in a nest of bones shoved into a corner, his arms shackled behind him through loops of a pelvis bone. It took a moment in the gloom for Jorn to realise that Lev’s leg was gone, gnawed off to the knee. A tourniquet of his own sinews was tied tight to stop the bleeding. Lev was delirious and sweaty; the leg was obviously infected. Lev looked up at Jorn and started laughing hysterically, cackling, “And now the dwarf! Of course he would be here too! It wouldn’t be a rescue without the dwarf! Ha ha ha!” Jorn replied by using his most powerful healing spell {a daily} to bring Lev up to nearly full health. Meanwhile another green ghoul had dropped down to savage Jorn from behind.

Stek knew Jorn was in trouble and gambled a run ahead into dark passages, and came to Lev and Jorn from the other direction. The grey and green ghouls pinned them there, but the grey one’s snapping horrific jaws were no match for the dwarf’s plate armour. The green one, however, did terrible damage to Jorn, who needed to heal himself to stay alive.

The rest of the party engaged with the other three ghouls, Zepher pulling back to a safe distance while Theren and Amos did savage damage to their foes. Bastian used healing and guiding strikes to coordinate the party, and though the damage was high on both sides, they started to turn the tide.

After a devastating bite, Jorn went down with a gurgle, Pelor’s name bubbling from his bloody lips. Stek desperately fought the ghouls as the party tried to get close enough to stabilise Jorn. The greyish ghoul, near destruction, retreated and hid, giving Stek just one target. Jorn started to go into convulsions {having failed two death saving throws} so Stek tried to stabilise him, as unpractised as he was, but did not manage it. Then the ghoul who had retreated dropped down again from the ceiling. He had snuck around for one last try at his precious saved meal: Lev. The ghoul’s freakishly stretched jaw clamped around Lev’s waist and Lev screamed in terror. Stek dispatched the nasty creature before it could kill Lev. The rest of the party rushed in to try to stabilise Jorn. {Bastian was out of healing spells so these were stabilisation checks with Heal vs. DC 15.} What with the chaos and ill fortune, none succeeded. Jorn took a shuddering breath, fighting for life— and then exhaled one last time, parting with both his dying breath and the warm glow that always seemed to suffuse his skin. Jorn was dead.

The party’s stunned realisation was made all the more surreal by the babbling Lev. First he demanded, “This is real? Are you really here?” then, with growing fear, “I don’t want to look down. How is my leg?” When he realised it was gone, he babbled: “Oh shit. My leg. Oh shit. I want my leg back. Get it out of the stomach of the big one. I need it. Bastian… Bastian said he’d get me into those wild eladrin parties in Fallcrest. I can’t dance with an eladrin princess with only one leg!” Lev shivered and sweat broke out; the infection from his leg was severe and looked like a bad case of Filth Fever. He continued as his eyes fluttered: “It’s fine. I’ll grow a new one. I know a unicorn. Met her in the woods. She ate spiderwebs, did you know that? But I owe the Snake’s Head a debt. Maybe it should be a cheese shop. I’m not all that good an adventurer.” Lev sobbed. “Ercullum. I should have shot at the skeleton. He would have told the ghoul I’m dangerous. But if I had some grapes I’d be fine.” With this, Lev passed out. Theren, no sentimentalist, started going through Lev’s backpack. The treasure from the tower puzzle was not there, but a notebook had encrypted notes that seemed to indicate Lev had buried it near the puzzle. Also Theren found the compass from the Blanche-Nef. Lev must have stolen it from Theren days ago.

The party earned 1000 XP, split 6 ways = 166 each.

The party is reeling from this turn of events: Jorn dead, Lev diseased and traumatised beyond the brink of sanity, and uncertain if they can squeeze back the way they came. Lev certainly cannot, having been here for a day since his last drink from the basin. They must choose whether to go farther into the ruin, to find a way to the surface which surely must exist, or up the cave passage from which the ghoul tracks first came. And then what? Rest again while Fenstrom builds even more power? Where to leave Lev? What to do with Jorn’s body? It is a dark day when a cleric of Pelor is lost, especially one as cheerful and peaceable as Jorn. Though the dwarf often let his devotion overpower his sense of self-preservation, he always meant the best, and perhaps it was most fitting that he died while single-mindedly seeking out a tormented soul crying in the dark, and granting him one last burst of holy light before himself falling into the abyss. Farewell Jorn, and whether you come back to the material plane or dwell in Pelor’s heavenly temple, we will never forget you.