Determining to seek out the Halls of the Master (to recover Calanor's blade and perhaps prevail upon Lord Diker to use the mirrors that are now his charge to transport you to where the city of Kalibar once stood, that you might find the lost entrance to Garek Enkdal nearby) you set out beneath the shining sun that drives away the mists, heading north west, skirting the foothills towards the Sankaduin, the Snake River that was, and the hamlet of Osen'tauri.

Alasha'an and Brugar have been this way before, and are able to guide you well enough ... though neither are familiar enough with the land to be able to locate the stone-covered shallow grave wherein they laid the body of Martje, the seer who gave her life to awaken the Sleepers of the prophecy she believed in when there were few others who did.  Perhaps for the best, for the old woman in life would have pointedly asked if you did not have more important matters to attend to than wasting your time and disturbing her rest ...

You pass by twisted and withered trees that sprout from the sparse tufts of grass and gorse that spring from the ground, surviving till now on what little light had filtered through the mists, yet looking even more miserable beneath the light of day.

The trees thin even more, ... and you cannot avoid noticing the bones, both animal and human, some disturbingly fresh, that litter the worn trail you now follow amid the tussocks.

Before long the path dips, and you are forced to slow, loose gravel making footing uncertain.  The splash of water reaches your ears and shortly thereafter you catch sight of the Sankaduin, flanked by black banks, its waters turgid, not free-flowing, the smell unpleasant - more so than either Elf or Dwarf recall from last time.

North lies Osen'taurie, a mean village, little more than a hamlet that was no more pleasant than the river it lies besides ... but your path lies south, and your destination is now close.

The land gradually rises as the twisting trail you tread follows a passage between low hills that soon becomes a ravine, sheltered between sheer walls of rock that loom to either side.

Not much further along, the ravine opens out into a wide depression, the path leading out onto a rocky peninsula with sheer sides dropping twenty feet or so into marshland, the muted roar of falling water in the distance indicating perhaps how the swamp is fed.

At the end of the peninsula stands a building that might once have been impressive, but now seems a little unkempt, with its stones crumbling and the roof collapsed in places.  The spires atop the central tower and a lower dome are carved in the fashion of beasts, maws wide open, staring down upon you.

Ahead the path leads to an entrance arch, through which can be seen the form of a large figure which  Hamin, Yetta and Ayas, not having seen it before, at first mistake for a guard of some sort, though as you draw closer, you see that it is but a statue, fashioned of granite, in contrast to the iron-tinged rock of these hills.

The Halls of the Master.

Brugar's eyes scan their suuroundings intently as the party approaches the Halls of the Master. He scowls when he sees the statue in the entry hall.

"That damned stone golem be still there, curse it. Myshrall were the only one as made it past unscathed, and only 'cos 'e were too little and nimble for it to clobber. Axe an' sword didn't even scratch it, so the rest of us climbed up and over the roof instead. Ye can see where the roof be caved in, though. Footin' up there ain't good. Then there was a whole pack of some sort of feral beasts prowlin' round inside an' climbin' up on the roof as well, an' a huge ape-like demon-thing inside. Weren't no easy way in, that's for sure, though we did kill 'em all eventually. Ah wonder what'll be waitin' for us this time?"

Hamin grimaces at Brugar's tales, "So what do you suggest?" He asks the dwarf.  "Do you think we could we run past it?  Or do you think our weapons might be more effective this time? Or perhaps we should try and climb again?"

He looks around at the others, "Perhaps Ayas has  something that will be effective?  But then, we don't know what to expect once we get past it ..."

"I can try to slow it with spider-webs," Ayas suggests. "That has worked for us before.. though I doubt this one will be so obliging as to desist if Yetta asks it nicely."

The elf shrugs. "Last time here our reception was not friendly, but the new Master of these halls might now be counted as a friend. Perhaps we should just announce ourselves?"

"Maybe we're on the guest list !"