The blessings of Dwerfater upon them, the party regathered in the middle of summer, after each fulfilled personal quests imparted by the dwarven deity. Stronger and perhaps more able, the party had grown to 17 members, newcomers arriving from Renderby and other nearby hamlets and fishing villages. A new cleric joining the party offered to carry extra gear on his mule, sharing dungeoneering supplies and trail rations. In all, a rather enormous group departed Zelkor’s Ferry, ranks of both the holy and the base, and a recently-acquired set of magical coconuts granting supernatural speed overland.
Along the way, as the party was setting up camp the second evening, they were accosted by a group of four trolls, who were ostensibly guarding the nearby bridge over the Canyon River. Cowed by the troll warband, and owing to the fact that an attack did not immediately ensue, the party opted to parley in hopes of safe passage. The apparent troll leader suggested 30 gold coins would be enough for them to ignore the party today, and the adventurers were quick to agree to that sum. Money exchanged hands, and the rest of the night passed uneventfully.
Three uneventful days later, after following the eastern coast of the Sinnar Ocean back south toward where they discovered Rappan Athuk, they created stone cairns to guide them to and from the shore to the graveyard they’d discovered. The dervish had no troubles finding the way back, which they’d only trodden a month ago. In a matter of hours the party arrived at the graveyard, just as the sun was going down…
Finally, the southern mausoleum stood before them, all eight green gargoyles perched atop. Seems Rasmus Pye was fully truthful about the former gargoyle eyes of jet that the party sold and which had somehow reformed into gargoyles again and wrecked his shop on the way out. However, this time the party was ready. The green gargoyles simply, presumably, watched as they approached and lined up across the small depression between them.
Magic Missiles and regular missiles and Words of Command were all thrown at the idle gargoyles, and before they could begin to act, nearly half of them were dispatched or flying away under the command to “Retreat!”. As the battle ensued, the rest of the gargoyles fell from the roof or out of the air as they were swooping in, or else they fell prey to the powerful magics of Souka Yant’s Charm spell, and only one landed blows of any significance, though Kit was nearly slain by the stony bite and gore from its horns. Still, the party that had once nearly been entirely killed by these green-stone gargoyles made seemingly easy work of them, their new allies making the numbers overwhelming in the party’s favor.
Now five gargoyles lay dead on the ground or dying on the roof of the mausoleum, three under the charm control of Souka Yant, and the party must decide how to proceed. Before them, the massive steel doors of the mausoleum looked untouched by the passage of time, and the intricate lock on the door was well beyond what the roguish types had seen before in their practicing in small human villages. Probably of dwarven manufacture, if they pick it, it will be quite an accomplishment!