The group returns to their communal chambers, save for DonBrapp who has been afforded an apartment in the royal hallway.  After a few hours, a piece of vellum is attached to the chamber door, warning any and all to CEASE DISTURBANCE near the coinfather’s temporary abode.  Sign or no sign, Durnkin is seen moving in and out several times bringing forth scrolls and ore and the accoutrement of armor creation.

After a lengthy rest, Petra seeks to continue instruction with the elf-mage growing more confident in her abilities as well as finding new ways of expression and learning in the written ways of magic.

“Telling tales and seeing the fates are parlor tricks.  Her lies true power.” She remarks offhandedly but revealing more than she might have normally.

The Oriothar continue to divide their efforts between cleaning the halls of infernal rot, standing watch inside and out, and repairing the once impressive stone halls.

Shuos is delighted at Kailute’s return and makes merry running the halls and back upon his return.

Upon reflection Quilro remembers something in his studies of Kazernsnert, a rumored inter-dimensional trading post specializing in the material components of fire and fire protection spells.

Suggesting in passing DonBrapp may have some divine ability to investigate this hunch further, the dwarf pointedly dismisses the idea.

“I’ll not beseech the lord of commerce to find you gawferdamt trick components, eelf!  Ask the fire dwarves if ye care so much for fireproofing yer purse!”

As the party moves toward the throne room to pay their respects to Tokar a bedraggled and forlorn halfling of Waukeshire moves quickly down the hall, accompanied by a dwarf with a familiar gait decked out in resplendent furs.

As the raspy voice bellows down the hall the heroes hear a voice not heard since Elventree.
“No dwarf should be forced to live where the air burns your face!  Where are these heroes of Waymeet so that Bosmos may taste another tankard, and the hospitality of these so called Oriathar dwarf kin!?”

Quilro immediately shudders, muttering “Shut up, shut up, friend, Dwarf.”
He considers immediately making the dwarf’s mind feeble, but reconsiders.

The exhausted halfling scout gives the party a mixed of relief and frustration before moving on to the throne room to report to Tokar.  Bowing low, Bosmos follows and the group moves before Tokar, Kinison and Durnkin.

The halfing scout describes a dark host moving toward the valley out of Vaasa along the river, led by a powerful figure mounting a white dragon.  The force moves slowly but deliberately and the scout reckons there is about a week before the group makes it to Bloodstone Valley.

“At first, we welcomed the return of game to the mountains, but unnatural clouds marked the low bogs hundreds, if not thousands, of darkened forms. It is clear something unnatural and evil stirs from Vaasa.”

Turning to the dwarven druid, all look with interest as to how Bosmos made his way back to this corner of the Moonsea.

“Word is you had overthrown the petty Baron of some Northern Royal family. Where can I get a drink?”

Quilro flips Bosmos his wineskin and the druid pulls heartily before returning to his tale.
“Thanks, elf-friend!  Always first and foremost with the wineskin.  Do you not like these skins?  These animals found their highest purpose in restoring the balances.”  Turning his eye upon Draxos, he notes a perceived affiliation with the Harpers.

“While I may be aligned, I work with not for.” The ranger offers.

Globus, the halfling scout offers thanks on behalf of Fredegast for their support.  He is gathering those who he can, feeding those who are hungry and gathering as much of a force as he can with in the mountains and the Shire, preparing to make for Hillsafar Hall.

DonBrapp lifts his chin from his pommel.

“I’ve a few questions for this dwarf if I may…  how exactly by the vault of Vergadain have you found yer way back to a corner in which you’ve no business whatsoever?”

Looking mildly reproached the druid steps forward.  “Is it not enough to say that I missed the taste of the road and the adventure?  The sound of your incantations and the the whistling of your blades as you cut through the enemies of the balance in nature?”

Quilro stifles a guffaw.  “I don't want to be judgmental, but I'm assuming you either owe someone a lot of coin, or you are just flat out escaping the judgment of a posse on the eastern Moonsea.”

“Er, the Moonsea it's not as ready to accept the divine balance of the seasons and the cycle of nature as she rewards those who find sanctity within her comings and goings. And although many of the cities on the Moonsea open with their hospitality, it may be that their hospitality is not enough to find proper balance such as the universe has to offer….  And I thought who better than to offer my assistance in their search for balance than those true and known heroes of Waymeet, who originally lifted me from the clutches of demonic infestion?”

“You've been ridden out of the entire Moonsea region in less than a year. That is remarkable.”

“I started in Mulmaster, because I figured where where they seek to extract the ore and defile the nature may be the best place to restore to balance and I saw their very best vintage being wasted.  The most opulent materials that could be made to craft a coven,  and from which the Convacle of the eastern Moonsea could spread the joy of sunshine; the warm embrace of rain; The holy veneration of wheat and mash.  But in so doing as it turns the effort was larger than the credit on whos behalf I was plying.  Perhaps yer new elven friend can assist me with the requisition of more materials a make whole the costs of my per diem.”
“How much?”  DonBrapp snorts sharply.

“Coinfather, that is an interesting question…”

“HOW MUCH?”

“As a matter of theocratic philosophy, how does on assign a cost to a verdant valley where a new bloom results in a bountiful harvest?  What is the value of a new found vein of precious metal, or the herd of caribou and elk that feed the hungry mouths of a tribe… Horde Master you know very well the comings and goings of such fickle beasts…  what foolish nonsense to attempt to assign a price!”  the druid pleads, turning to Kailute for sympathy.”

“Any rancher for certain can tell you.” The half-orc responds.

“Don’t indulge him.”  Quilro mutters.

Tokar and Kinison look on as the party begins to discuss means of magically extracting further information from Bosmos, who pretends not to hear their discourse.  The Oriothar have never witnessed one of their brethren so garbed or taken of the druidic calling and are thus quiet with curiosity.

“Tale of yer success dethroning a tyrannical petty baron of Damara have made their way throughout the Moonsea, and of course I reckoned where better for a reformed druid to begin tending a flock…  especially since I am no longer welcome in Mulmaster.”  Bosmos says.

The dwarf further reports the Zhents appear to have withdrawn much of their military and commercial activity back to the west, leaving the eastern Moonsea to the city states and Zenghyi’s horde.

The heroes confer on the available military forces within the immediate vicinity of Bloodstone valley.  The 200 halflings of Waukeshire are disbursed among the mountains;  and the Oriothar can provide nearly 150 dwarven warriors.  There are likely to be between 2-300 various human soldiers and men-at-arms within range of summons.

Kailute notes the key terrain and advantages to funneling the horde within the mountain valleys.

DonBrapp directs the dwarves to equip themselves for battle, and considers the available forces within the Bloodstone region of Damara.

“Let's gather our blades and seek the blood of our enemies!” Kinison snorts, excited by the prospect of battle.

“Hear, hear.” Draxos states quietly.

The cleric fingers his beard idly, his mind stepping over each of the possibilities.

“Tell Fredegast to cease his scouting and turn to organizing the folk of the valley.  Bring ‘em here, under Tokar’s shield.”

Bosmos snorts and turns to DonBrap incredulous.  “Did I just hear you say we should tell a bunch of humans scared in their hovels to retreat into a dwarf hold in the mountains?”
“If they care to avoid death, aye.”

“Listen as much as I love a canopy of fine fur and the open plain I can make myself comfortable inside the the rock home of a mountain because I, like DonBrapp am a man of the rock. But it may be harder for some of our pink-skinned friends.”

The druid looks around, sensing an opportunity.

“I would be willing to attempt to convince the fine folk of Bloodstone of their danger!  Who better than the Convacle of the West…  perhaps the Agent of the Harper swith incredibly shallow purses should be entrusted to make this case to the citizens of Bloodstone.”

“Save the ones who won’t believe in the hoard.”  Snorts DonBrapp, before raising his hand in a spell of command.

“SLEEP!”

Bosma's drops Quill rose wineskin, and collapses to the floor as both Kinison and Tocar look on with looks of confused apprehension.

“Here’s what needs to happen;  we’ve not the time to explain all the history or discover exactly why Bosmos is here…  most likely he’s broke.”

The cleric instructs the Oriothar to strip, bind and isolate the druid to ensure he can’t cause too much trouble in their absence.

The thieves rifle through his person, finding a magic dagger and two rings among other sundry personal items and druidic spell components.

Tomas identifies one of the daggers as an evil envenomed item.

Quilro states the dagger needs to be destroyed, as another powerful voice haunts his head.
“Much better saved for a proper divination or some sort of magical sacrifice.” DonBrapp states as he examines Bosmos’ kit.

“Master dwarf, did you mention we have to enter a lava flow?   ….I’m not sure I am quite prepared…”  Tomas stammers.

The heroes all half-heartedly encourage the young mage as they prepare to depart to the forgeworks.

Stepping back through the plains, all experience the sensation of being enveloped in hot viscous fluid before arriving back in the smoke and charcoal filled valley of fire.  Three copper skinned demi-humans stand to the northeast and turn towards the party as you appear.

“May your flames be bright and scorch away impurities.” The azer speak as the group returns to the plane of fire.

They provide a slate gray parchment like document upon which the floor plans of the basalt tower have been marked out. Four areas indicate the presence of a lava flow, one of which opens to the apartments of Beznert, a wealthy merchant.

After discussion the group decides to enter the tower where the prisoners are kept.  You emerge from the bubbling cauldron into a roughly triangular chamber, 75’ wide tapering 50’ to the north.  Small serpents emitting coppery flames slither on the floor of what appears to be a holding pen. Grim azer look on with stoic interest as the party emerges from the flamer of a large iron cauldron in the center of the space.  The only exit appears to the north.

“HVEH, vot is dees crawling out of me fire?  One of the azer looks suspiciously.  None are armed, and what flames exude from their forms appear weak and malnourished.

The floor is a polished Blackstone. All of the walls appear to be a a sort of mix of black ignatius rock, sort of flecked with the red. Not quite ruby, but almost a little bit between Ruby and Bloodstone.

Moving through and to the north, there appears to be a metallic red fibrous rug, not well kept but short is sitting in the middle of the passageway.

After a quick reconnoiter the group observes two fire giant guards, and plots to trick them into an ambush.

“What's in the name of the Holy Volcano?” one calls out after falling for the ruse.
The fire giants are surprised and Kailute delivers an overhand slice that cuts through one of the open parts of the pauldron towards the shoulder and then pulling that down you thrust forward drawing wispy, smoky ichor of blood from the giant who advanced, who looks down like no greensman.

SPRONG!  Draxos’ halfling bow breaks yet again.

Quilro attempts to backstab with his sword but misses.

Draxos shakes off his frustrations and leaps forward with a sword, a look of bloodlust on his face.  A slashing blow opens the fire giant’s jugular, and the creatures scream is suppressed by gurgling blood.

Kailute pounces forward driving the blade of his sword into the boot of the giant, nearly pinning him to the floor.  Half-orc and elf regard each other as warriors as they move to deliver the finishing blows to the elemental leviathan.

“Together, orc brother.”

Quilro releases a lightning bolt into one of them but the armor appears to absorb much of the magical energy.

“Don't damage the rug elf.”

In a final riposte the giant catches the elven mage-thief with a backhand, and his magical blade renders Quilro paralyzed.

DonBrapp runs forth and executes a cinematic blow to the giant, felling it.

Tomas and Petra heft the recovered rugs to their shoulders and follow the party to the west.
“…every room, every chest, every rug.” The dwarf mutters.

A blue magical force field separates the jail area from the halls beyond.  Mixed groups of drow, elementals and other azer make their way about unconcerned with the party behind the force field.  Beyond the blue magical portal, you can see a large unlit charcoal urn and it looks like some large oblong object covered with a canvas cloth.

Grunting at the field, DonBrapp turns on his heel and begins to rifle through the corpses of the fallen guards.  As he does, the imprisoned azer share their thoughts on Golgathaur, and his motives for ruling in Kazersnert.  It appears he has been slighted by the ruling efreet in the City of Brass, and he used the chaos of the planar invasion as a means to seize power.  All express their respect and affection for Feglogos, and he is renowned for his knowledge of fire based alchemy and magical enhancement.  He is also the primary creator of nanthor, the liquid metallic metal.  He is detained at the word of Golgathaur, and some suspect he may not be azer at all.  The azer offer a basic orientation to the Basalt Tower and its environs, including the port, the bazaar and the royal chambers where the efreet lord administers the interplanar trading hub.

After examining the giant corpses DonBrapp thinks better of having the henchmen drag all the loot around and instead orders them the cache it within the detention area.

Quilro provides the azer a rousing call to freedom, punctuated by the dwarf stepping forward and dispelling the blue portal blocking the way to the west. Observing his magical prowess the azer regard DonBrapp with a newfound comradery and respect, and they grab what they can to arm themselves before the group casually moves into the hallway.

The group does its best to move without alerting anyone, but the recently freed azer are clearly underfed and dirty compared to their companions walking freely on the street.  The heroes stagger their movement so as not to appear as a single conspicuous group.

The halls are relatively busy, and Draxos sneers the first time his eyes lay upon a group of drow.  A variety of cargo is being moved along the passageways, and in some places stored.
“Kailute loves him some underdark.”  DonBrapp mutters chuckling.

Quilro attempts to creep as Draxos is taking the whole area in, somewhat mesmerized by the exotic location.

DonBrapp peers into a barrel full of coal-like ore, nearly sneezing from the dust covered tarp.  He palms five of the nuggets.

The ranger’s eyes lock with a trio of drow who in turn tense at the energy the elf exudes.  All deliberately move their hands closer to their weapons as a hybrid humanoid efreet stumbles down the hallway from the west that appears every now and then to blink in and out like a gout of flame.

“Discretion is the better part of valor.” Fyrnlocke whispers in passing to Draxos, attempting to forestall a showdown in the passageway.

One of the azer scurries out of the way of the approaching hargrinn as the party attempts a mix of casual defensive posture without looking too conspicuous.

After a few moments of tense observation the drow continue on their way, but the female’s hand never leaves the handle of her snake headed whip.

“Lord giant, might you be able to point a traveler is the correct direction?” Kailute asks in his most humble and respectful giantish.

The fire giant warns Kailute to ensure all his goods are declared; and describes the way to the Saltpeter Inn to the north.

Fyrnlocke and Draxos signal to each other their preparation to ambush the dark elves if it becomes necessary.  DonBrapp begins to appreciate the nature of this intraplanar locale, and the casting of spells or their very presence may not be as alerting or unusual as it might be back on the prime plane.

DonBrapp extends his magical focus, attempting to read the philosophical orientation of the creatures around him.  Ranging from neutral to evil, most of the azer align lawfully but there are some variations.

The concussion of an explosion on the outside of the walls sort of ripples through the out there, just reminding everyone that outside the walls of the basalt tower, the plane of fire remains active with random events of just elemental energy.

Kailute seizes the moment and shouts “THOSE DROW RELEASED THE PRISONERS!” and points to the trio of dark elves, who now look with open hatred toward the party.  The two guard giants move toward the drow, hands on weapons.

DonBrapp casually moves toward a defensive position while the rest of the heroes wait and observe the developing situation.  Quilro slides his family blade from its sheath, reversing the weapon for a potential backstab.

“Now’s not the time fer another sacrifice to yer goddess of love, ilf… not yet…”  DonBrapp spits between grated teeth.

The drow priestess begins to signal the delivery of a spell, but none of the elves make overtly dangerous moves.

“Breakers of the peace must stand before Golgathaur!”  The giants state and begin to move to seize the drow. The Giants have their hands on the the pommels of their weapons and they are moving forward towards the drow with authority unafraid.

Fyrnlocke and Quilro attempt to meld into the shadows.

“Surrender yourselves to the remand of Golgathaur or you shall be cast into the pit of fire!”

The priestess activates a defensive spell as the warriors’ curse under their breath.
“YOU will answer as to why you put your hands upon the emissaries of Leaznar Neth, firewalker.  We shall seek diplomatic immunity and we shall find recompense for those who make false accusations in the throne of Golgathaur. If you seize us, you must also seize those who bear false witness!”  They speak in somewhat fluent Undercommon.

This causes the Giants to pause for a moment.

Eventually they issue Kailute a bloodstone disc to be summoned to the court of Golgathaur and guide the drow under guard to the north; the same holding area the party released the azer from.

17 Hammer 3:30pm

The heroes have infiltrated the fiery halls of Kazersnert, interplanar trading post on the elemental plane of fire.

Having slain two fire giants and liberated several rebellious Azer, the party attempts to slip into the busy commercial hub unnoticed, while casting responsibility for the dead fire giants upon a trio of drow.

Guards take custody of the dark elves while the thieves stand in front of an ornate brass door, behind which they believe Feglolos, renowned alchemist and creator of the magical alloy nanthor is held.

Fyrnlocke, Petra, and Tomas do their best to remain inobtrusive amongst the traffic and departing drow prisoners.  An enormous fire elemental makes its way through the passage, and another fire giant guard patrols to the west.

The dwarf signals for all to gather as he refreshes the magical protection from fire while again pondering how long a prime humanoid could last without such protection.

As the elemental passes, the flame walk blows back its flames causing it to snarl at the party.

A stout brass door sits in the northern wall.  Ornate geometrical carvings surround inset gems of red and green at the center.  The opening and locking apparatus appear to be four inset gems around an orb, secure but floating within the carved brass.  The door hums with electrical energy.

DonBrapp cocks his head toward the door at Tomas, signaling his well-known intent to take the door with them.  Stepping forward the mage intones magical words, discovering the door is magically trapped but dispelling it will render it back to a powerful magnet.

Quilro moves Tomas out of the way, stepping closer to examine the contraption.  Shaking his head as DonBrapp mutters about magical negation the elf manipulates the stones until the sound of air whooshing from around portal indicates it opens.

Just then a hargrinn stumbles down the hallway, his gait suggesting a mix of magical blink and inebriation.  The fire pirate mutters about the power of firewine as he staggers east down the hallway.

DonBrapp and Quilro enter the room and observe crammed inside the 10 by 10 room beyond a stout figure our shelves and desks covered with every manner of school of alchemist equipment and a bubbling cauldron on a magical burner to the right. The individual within takes no notice as he is hunched over a vital a series of components and a magical burner and is magically moving items.

“Feglogos!  I am DonBrapp and we are here to rescue you!”

The surprise of this intrusion causes the azer to freeze, and the floating components fall to the floor with an explosion knocking all backwards.

After composing himself, the azer turns to the pair covered in soot head to toe save for his bright brass-colored eyes.

“Dwarf!  Elf!  What brings you to my chambers?  Are you injured?”

Shaking off their minor injuries, DonBrapp continues to introduce them with long list of Heroes of Waymeet honorifics.

“Are you from Calimshan?  Rare have I heard such a long list of titles from a dwarf who does not sit upon a thrown.  ….Oh, I see.  Coinfather.”

Looking to the elf, DonBrapp wracks his memory before rising to Quilro’s challenge to name his family for 1000 gold.

“An Eldarym?!  Yer folk are known among the plane of fire, sir elf!”

Feglogos asks what Golgathaur wants of him, protesting his efforts to produce more firewine.
“We’re here to release you and kill Golgathaur.”  DonBrapp states urgently.

Feglogos is taken aback, explaining that the efreet is actually under the domination of a fire beholder, while expressing his deep desire for a ground beef sandwich.

He further explains that he adheres to the appearance of being detained by Golgathaur, but probably has the wherewithal to come and go as he pleases.  As the pair reveals to him that the azer are being persecuted Feglogos is convinced to assist the heroes in defeating Manthraxas the fire tyrant to preclude further abuse of his fire dwarf friends.

Meanwhile Kailute moves west to explore the passageway and the royal chambers.  It is clear the fire port is nearby due to the volume of cargo traffic moving among the chambers.

Moving north he approaches the two guards flanking the entrance to the royal chambers.

“If you’ve no petition to Golgathaur, remain behind official business chamber and present no weapons.” The guards state before waiving the half-orc through.

A large efreet sits upon a black stone throne, alternately berating a pair of hargrinn about a tax dispute with a long stone rod or twirling his curly black mustache.  Behind the throne to the left the flaming sphere floats, one fire red eye dominating the center while seven other stalks rise from the orb.  It is half hidden by a stone wall behind the throne, but wherever its eye scans a ripple of energy is notable passing within an arc of 90 degrees of the creature’s direct view.

In the alchemists chambers Feglogos leans uncomfortably close and pulls DonBrapp to him, his hands darting to the attenuarium in his pack.  Granted permission to examine the artifact the azer offers both stone goblets of firewine.  The liquid burns the elf’s throat, filling him with a sense of confidence, increasing his dexterity while making him appear to blink in and out like a flame.

DonBrap negotiates firewine and weapon crafting support for assistance deposing Manthraxas.  Feglogos agrees, provided Kazersnert is not destroyed in the process and the azer are not further molested or bullied by Golgathaur.

Feglogos is amazed and impressed by Finthicus’ attenuarium.  He describes it as a planar navigation and mapping device, greatly reducing the risks involved in teleportation and planar travel.

He further describes his authorship of Frameport, an ability to establish teleportation portals between two fixed locations and continues to bemoan his love of beefburgers.
Outside Kailute and Draxos visit the bazaar downstairs.  They encounter a hostile drow group, but successfully intimidate and negotiate their way to purchasing a magical bow and several mithril arrows.

When the pair returns to the alchemist’s chamber they find the heroes listening to the unfortunate tale of a wizard who attempted to bed dragons before being immolated for his vanity.

The Saltpeter

The heroes find themselves in an ornate carved room housing a lively mix of elemental and planar clientele.  Azar, hargrinn, fire giants, drow and the off human sit at gray stone tables.  The flat black stone walls are lined at regular intervals with struts of inset blood red rock, which seems to almost imperceptibly pulse.  “Tis the invested fire salts that keeps you waterbags from boiling” Feglolos remarks, hoisting his third frothing stone mug of jet black viscous liquid.

The drow eye the group suspiciously, while the surrounding azer can barely contain their glee at Feglogos presence.  Other patrons show no apparent interest in the group as the basalt tower is a well-traveled commercial hub.

Kailute and Petra are making surreptitious deals with kitchen staff as Quilro narrows his eyes.

DonBrapp moves among the heroes laying the healing power of Vergadain upon all that need it; the strength of the Coinfather appears strained this far from the prime material.

Feglogos slaps a vial on Quilro’s thigh, and the elf quaffs it quickly.

“What’s it take to get some service around here?”  the unusual azer shouts, and the waitstaff scrambles to provide the party a stone pitcher of viscous amber fluid.

Quilro begins to sing, jumping atop the table and dancing an exaggerated jig.

One of the attendants lists the fare at the Saltpeter, including:

Feg’s Firewine burns like peaty whiskey; turns drinker invisible and increase DEX.
Alemancher – oily black viscous fluid; sharp metallic taste
Elven amber – double distilled for double potency.
Khark – fermented milk of rockmun.  Tastes like gritty cinnamon paste
Ale – Spiderwine
Hot lichen, mineral ores, spiced hard tack, menzak;  spiced dried prime game

The elf pounds on the table and orders a round for the entire room on the dwarf’s tab, and DonBrapp frowns deeply at the spendthrift ways.  Forcing himself to relax, he drinks deeply of the firewine and ponders its effects.

Another group of drow enter, making eye contact with the trio at the opposite end of the room.  All are dressed similarly, indicating they’re all from the same tribe.
Quilro change his tune, singing sharply about the merits of the sun and deriding all creatures of shadow and darkness.  The azer cheer what snippits they can understand lauding the sun and fire.

“Oh look!  A spider!” Kailute cries before making a movement to smash it against the wall.
The drow immediately tense for combat at so open and brazen an insult.

“Keep your ass out of this!”  Draxos states to the fire giant eyeing the developing fracas.  The priestess, warrior and weapons master take up defensive positions with their weapons at the ready.

Quilro slides between the party and releases an enormous lightning bolt at the dark elves.  A shockwave of magical energy powers through the space as a globe of magical darkness appears near the door.  The scent of ozone and burnt armor fill the nostrils as the azar leap to their feet in celebration of a tavern brawl.

“Immediately cease the casting of spells!  All here are in the employ of Golgathaur!” the fire giant cries, moving to quell the violence.

A hargrinn jumps up with two scimitars of flame while the barkeep hides behind his post.
Feglogos extinguishes some elemental flame while sliding to the side to observe.  Two more drow appear in the doorway readying support for their comrades.

Draxos looses two mithril arrows at the priestess, pinning her to the wall and disrupting her spellcasting.

“DO NOT GET BLOOD ON THIS CARPET!” DonBrapp bellows.

Tomas’ eyes glass over and he begins to take stock of the room as if hunting for a target.
Two hand crossbow bolts fly across the room as the fire giant stammers “By Kazuth’s flame, ENOUGH!”  and he moves toward the drow.

The weapons master leaps forward and lands a slicing gash.  Quilro is struck by a bolt, and the wound tickles with a strange sensation but he is fortified by the firewine.

Kailute delivers an upward thrust that takes off one of the drow’s legs while his second blow slides off the armor of the second.

DonBrapp ponders the brass woven rug in the center of the room as chaotic violence breaks out around him as he lazily enthralls one of the enemies in a spell of holding.

Fyrnlocke slides forward but misses with a swing of his longsword.

Feglogos motions and the fires return to their normal size, somewhat blurring the vision of creatures observing in the infrared.

Two dark elves have fallen, while the priestess is bleeding out.  The weapons master takes a position atop a table and tracks the approach of DonBrapp who delivers a crushing blow with his hammer.  The satisfying crunch of bone and ligaments brings a smile to the cleric’s face.

Draxos steps back and pulls an arrow straight to the weapons masters throat at point blank range, loosing one while just jabbing the second straight into the drow’s windpipe.  Neither connect…  but strangely time seems to warp and he is afforded yet another opportunity…  but again neither strikes land.

The elf-mage volleys a series of magic missiles toward one of the drow near the door.
The fire giant backhands the magically held drow shouting “In the name of Kyuss, STOP THIS NONSENSE!” as the barbarian swings into the globe of darkness to find the drow has darted out the door and down the hallway to the south.

“Tenkar!  Thank the flame you are here to keep Golgathaurs peace!” Feglogos intones to the fire giant, who looks at him suspiciously while collaring the remaining dark elves.

“Report to the hall when summoned, Feglogos.  You shouldn’t be about.” He grunts carrying the immobilized drow.

The azar fall upon the corpses for loot, and with a touch of the hand Feglogos releases Tomas from his charmed condition.

DonBrapp signals to Petra and Fyrnlocke to attend to their share of the corpses, and the thief recovers a drow longsword.  A gorget of magical absorption is also pulled from the corpse.

Kailute charges down the hallway in pursuit, leaping with the flat of his blade against the fleeing drow’s ankle.  The elf tumbles in a ball to the side of the passageway and the barbarian knocks him senseless with the pommel of his blade.

The fire giant makes his way down the passageway, and Kailute remands the unconscious elf into custody.

Feglogos leaves coin on the bar for the party and agrees to assist the party in thwarting Golgathaur provided the tower is not harmed and the azer unmolested.

The party retires to paid chambers to the north as Kailute attempts to arrange disposal of the corpses.  As friends of Feglogos the barkeep agrees to provide material evidence of the drow attack for any additional gratuities the group may offer.
DonBrapp negotiates purchase of one of the rugs in the bar and is informed of the merchant Kethek in the bazaar.

In the chambers the cleric collects a vial of blood for Tomas to keep safe during the encounter with the beholder.  The mageling is escorted back to the Hillsafar Hall with the vials, and DonBrapp heals all with his remaining curative magic.

9am 18 Hammer

One of the discs flares, summoning the party to the throne of Golgathaur.  The efreet sits upon a scalloped basalt throne berating a pair of pirates for not paying their full taxes due.

Just to the left and behind a stone wall directly to the rear of a throne a flaming eye tyrant floats, partially covered by the wall.

The five remaining drow appear to be imprisoned in a force cage to the northeast in the royal chamber.

Kailute is informed the herald will notify the party when it is appropriate to approach Golgathaur.

A ripple of odd energy coincides when the beholder shifts its gaze across the throne room.