Noon 29 Hammer

“Demons.  Stone.  How many more do you think…”  Quilro cuts Jonleth off.

“As many as they feel they need to defeat us.”  The mage snaps.

“…and we tell them Kailute sent them.”  Guffaws Kailute.

DonBrapp ponders the things he has witnessed; read, learned and manipulated through his studies and use of the negative material energy.  It is not a power he enjoys, but he is confident in his ability to bend the planar energy to his will with Vergadain’s favor.
It is clear the events in Damara are an expression of a internecine demonic struggle for primacy within the Abyss.  Not only are the peoples and creatures of the area faced with violence and terror… but the coin DOES NOT FLOW.  An area so rich in resources, particularly those below the ground are an affront to the Coinfather.

With a concussive thump, the stone recoils around the group, now tucked within the wavelike amphitheater, shaped recess magically displaced by the Svirfneblin.

The exhausted group stoops under the sloping roof, which at its highest point is no more than six feet tall from top to bottom and toward the outer edges is closer to only four feet. The space sinks to a recessed center with a 3 foot wide ledge about 18 inches above that. A greenish purple hue emanates from a series of translucent deep blue stones in the center of the recess, providing warmth from the cold of the stone, as well as projecting a visible light in every dimension, leading both the positive and negative material planes.  The bench layer is cushioned by beds and firm, but pleasant-smelling mushrooms and herbs. Side tables constructed of matte gray geometric mushroom stalks hold spices fresh spring water like in liquor. And dried mushroom jerky. Heavy stone. Comfortable defense the gnomes say kind of shrugging stone MasterCard and invokes us to arrest and reconquer. The dangerous stirring of fiends is not unknown to the fair in the older folk. The gnomes not in time to each of the elves. Dwarfs in the half work. The human gods are consumed over entertaining their short-lived audiences.

At that moment, Lady Christine kind of steps down and she says, “Say what you will about the morning father; without his light nature struggles to find any balance.” She kind of tosses her hair back towards beyond the Stonewall, indicating unholy temple within the Underdark chamber.

Safely within the magical enclave, DonBrapp calls forth the power of Vergadain to heal the party.  Ensuring their wounds and hunger is looked after, the dwarf rummages among his magical pack to locate vellum and ink as he reflects on the Svirfneblin and their command of the deep stone.

 Whenever they can offer a dour word of stoic admiration, the gray gnomes are effusive;  making a handful of slightly positive comments regarding the cleric’s clear martial ability against abyssal fiends the superior workmanship of the dwarf’s armor.

Lady Christine cleans and oils her blades as Quilro sniffs a carafe of brown liquid, wrought with the caramel scent of s liquor.

“They say love is the food of the soul my lady?” The elf asks the noble leady earnestly.
Somewhat unmoored by his recent activities underground, the elf is quick to regale the beauty of his wife and the commitment to his family.  Kailute scoffs in the background.
“Please disregard my companions; their skills allow me to get close to our targets.”

Jonleth leans forward, remarking that the superior races have been dying out over the ages.
“Indeed; elves know not the art of rutting.” Kailute opines with a smirk before turning over to sleep.

The noble lady isn’t put off by any of the banter, opting to drink the offered last bottle of elven wine Quilro has, while keeping a chaste distance.

Draxos steps forward for a glass, and for the first time in a long while the elf feels clarity;  some release from the darkness that has haunted him in this abyssal underhell.
The two elves fall asleep quietly singing elvish songs that honor the sunrise, and how one flew fast enough they might even outrun the night.

The gnomes fall asleep, snoring like housecats.

5pm 29 Hammer

As you awake, you can see that the gray gnomes have already struck their little camps and bedrolls. They’ve fastidiously cleaned up all the common areas or are throwing what uneaten food remains the rocks into the fire, and otherwise just cleaning and making preparations to vacate their little cave in the rock.

“Must honor Calluduran Smoothands, stonefather.” They state flatly.
“Was a fine blade ye dropped, ilf.” DonBrapp observes as he stowes his pack.  Quilro and Draxos pull themselves awake.

“Yours if you want it, dwarf.  Just got to get it from under the rubble.”
“Tapestry.  It’s what’s important.  Focus.”  He then calls forth his additional healing to assist those still in need.

Jonleth begs additional healing, but aside from being gaunt from ill nutrition shows no direct wounds.

At the dwarf’s direction Jonleth mends Draxos bow; runs his hand over the magically infused bweapon, says a few incantations, magically the bow is restored at least to normal level of durability.

“Heart’s curse!” Quilro mutters, reflection on his vow to build a church in Hillsfar, as of yet unfulfilled and if this banishment below ground was an expression of holy dissatisfaction.

The Svirfneblin gather along the southern side of the of the chamber. Two of them lock elbows, put their other arms, exterior arms to their foreheads, and concentrate very intensely, and you can feel the energy of the room shake. As what was once the cavern slowly retracts and then the opening space in the Rock reveals the dark and unearthly lit upper tier of the unholy temple. As the rock separates, the warmth and comfortable aroma is immediately displaced by gritty, acidic smoke that appears to hang in a low pool around every corner and is otherwise moving through the upper spaces along the floors. You can hear the low murmurs of duergar and infernals speaking somewhat over to the West.  A demonic art deco building rises along the eastern half of the upper part of the ziggurat directly in front of you, but otherwise a 10-foot passageway extends 15 feet in either direction east or west.  A sheer 40’ drop-off marks the edge of the ziggurat.

“Yer absolutely sure the pool is done, ilf?”  DonBrapp challenges Quilro.
“Look yerself.” The elf says, dropping to the spaced between the cave wall, the ornate building and the destructive crater atop the ziggurat.

DonBrapp steps through the portal and finds his way once again on the smooth black polished stone flecked with green and purple otherworldly features beneath his feet. Directly ahead he observes what appears to be the rear of a of a multi-armed by pedal demon flanking an enormous demonic monstrosity leading what appears to be a troop of duergar are away from you. They're about 40 feet away to the west. As each of you come outside of the protective magic cave you can see that the gnomes have got to continue to concentrate to keep the portal open and intact. A couple squads of duergar loosely marching behind three demons headed west are the closest threat.

 The demons are leading, or at least cajoling the duergar or following them as you survey what you're looking at, you can tell that the demons have taken quite a few wounds, but the duergar appear to be near shredded with the holes in their armor bandages. Blood emanating from fresh wounds, some of them limping away.

The dwarf begins the sonorous rise in his chest as the heroes find their weapons or spells readied.
The demons appear to float into the air about 30 feet above the floor. While the duergar continue marching below all of them, once they get within 20 feet of the lip of the collapsed area where the pool of mercury used to be, you can see them all kind of stop and sort of gingerly observe the sunken and destroyed area. The infernals hover above the destroyed pool with caution rather than walking any closer to the sundered area.

“Didn't expect to lose so many taking out that Infernal Dragon. True, true, I've here. They've got the bitch cornered down below. Let's hope let's so.  Athkar; what call does he have on the armies?”

“He's trying to work that out now. There's clearly been an ambush outside below. So more are being assembled and we're going to see if the Legion will be released now that that hated Vektorallah is dead and nowhere to be found.”

The heroes listen intently to the gravel voiced abominations before DonBrapp levels his hammer and releases a shocking bolt of lightning that spurts through at least four of them and doing so also illuminates in the natural order of things just the wand of negation had wrought, but also all the debris. Lying around the floor of the sundered temple.
At the shock of the attack the duergar turn with fear, and the demons spread out in the air.  Their response is muted and lacking the precision of earlier defenses, but while wounded the magical strike did not appear to overly wound them.

“Never send a dwarf….”  Quilro mutters with the invocation of an exploding fireball that blows the duergar into the rubble and against the walls of the structure.  Two duergar are slain outright while the third is moaning within rubble of the pit. Again, the demons appear to shrug off the magical attack, even as wounded as they appear.

Draxos looses two arrows in rapid succession, felling the remaining gray dwarves while missing a demon in flight above.

Kailute leaps forward and hurls an axe at one of the levitating curs which makes a slight cut in the middle shoulder of one of the multi-armed beasts, but does less damage than the hefty barbarian expected…  alighting an anger within.

The demons spread out in the sky above, so they're each now between 30 and 45 feet off the ground itself, and each of them began levitating pieces of rubble. The first aims towards Kailute but misses completely wildly. The other one whiffs by, but lands behind the half-orc with an enormous force that causes him to think that would have hurt quite a bit.   The nalfeeshnee in the center hurls magically levitated debris at Quilro but instead it entombs the duergar that Draxos had slain.  Ironically the debris provides initial cover for the heroes and a potential avenue up the roof.

Tracking the demons with his bow the ranger misses twice before taking a significant chunk of flesh out of the demon whose yellow eyes now turn and to just have this look of “Damn it haven't we had enough of these fucking heroes of Waymeet by now.”

DonBrapp hefts the hammer at one of the demons as the elf-mage transforms into a bat once again to crawl upon the wall and take an advantageous angle on one of the demons.

With their attention focused on the hammer throwing dwarf the bat-elf evades detection.
To the surprise of all the three remaining duergar suddenly morph from demi-human to full sized human gray dwarves before turning to engage the cleric and ranger directly.  Draxos is pierced by a military pick while Kailute deflects several blows.

The demons continue to hurl levitated debris at the heroes, but Lady Christine is deft on her feet and dodges.  Kailute is not as lucky, receiving a glancing blow from the rubble.
The two orcs take up flanking positions just as DonBrapp calls forth an enormous wintry deluge that explodes directly above the pile of debris and the three duergar.

Kailute backhands one of the weakened demons and notices it is rent back to the abyss rather than fully destroyed as before.

“Don’t forget to tell ‘em Kailute sent ya.”

The two remaining nalfeeshnee continue to levitate as the enlarged duergar continue their unenthusiastic resistance. Draxos delivers a killing shot at point blank release cleaving the breast plate of another gray dwarf.

“Cowardlly curs!” the barbarian shouts as he cuts another duergar in half with his blade.
The remaining wounded demons float away to the south as Draxos attempts to finish them from afar.

Regrouping, the party collects itself before hearing sounds of shuffling and repeated viscous plops;  sounding like bags of rotting flesh that have somewhat humanoid, like appendages.  The monsters stand bipedal but look like gray rotting rot grubs. As these foul creatures appear from nothing DonBrapp assesses they are being gated in by the demons.

Reacting quickly the dwarf makes the holy gesticulations, and the utter darkness of the cavern above the ziggurat is lit by an enormous gout of flame. 10 feet in diameter, materializes and then blasts straight down from the rock ceiling above straight through this particular demon whom around which it kind of like you can see it shocked by the concussive force of the flame, but it doesn't appear that the flames themselves are burning are burning as much as the concussive force has injured the infernal.

The top of the ziggurat shifts under the impact of the flame strike, now tilting toward the larger cavern wall to the south.

Quilro releases from the cave wall in bat form and flies toward one of the retreating demons.  Taking  a position above the bat returns to elven form and drops the short sword moonblade into the creatures neck, breaking its concentration in flying and the two of them spiral toward the ground. As they disentangle upon impact the elf finishes the demon with a thrust that pulls the negative energy into the jewels of the moonblade and restores the elf’s health completely.

DonBrapp surveys the retreating fiends; Kailute is hacking his way through the disgusting demon larvae as the ranger elevates his bow and fires away at the remaining demon.  In his retreat the glabezru hurls another volley of debris.  Draxos leaps forward to shield Kailute, and his two orc companions step forward to deliver a killing blow to the remaining demon.

Enraged by the endless demonic onslaught, Kailute utterly destroys the remaining summoned grubs.

For a moment, silence reigns while the group collects itself and consolidates.  Quilro hears what sounds like shouting or an argument beyond the door in the ornate building to the east.

“You fools! You've allowed them to infiltrate below. And now. We have wandering infiltrators within the cavern itself. I can't believe it has come to this.” An infernal voice speaks from within.

The elf-mage conjures an invisible scrying eye and sends it under the door of the room to investigate.

There appears to be a pair of demons, several bloodied, grizzled, but apparently powerful duergar and one human cleric of Myrkul, all gathered around a table and they are angrily shouting at each other. The walls behind them are lined with a mix of shelves. This appears to be the preparatory chamber for all sorts of magical and alchemic ritual support. The demons and dwarves have established a council of war, and complaining that the army was neither alerted or prepared to march, but they are currently under attack below while the monsters are raining free from within the temple. As a result of these intruders apparently have been laying havoc throughout the region; but the evil leaders were not informed of the Heroes of Waymeet sooner.

Quilro tilts his head toward the door before sweeping in a magical cloud of poison beneath the entryway.  As he observes with his wizard eye, the demons look with awe as they turn to the door, and the demons disappear as the duergar begin to wheeze and choke.  The human cleric falls to the ground nauseated. Crawling backwards into a corner and he pulls out one mailed hand, in which he holds a symbol of a disk that has the skull enameled into the center of it, with red dots for eyes.  The cleric is armed with a black asp.

Stepping forward Kailute kicks open the door and shouts “Who farted!”

DonBrapp slides under the barbarians’ knees and releases the hammer at the Myrkullian cleric, who is tossed back onto the mix of a shelf and shelving units with the with the blow of the hammer and from a shelf above the stoppered ceramic potion bottle falls on its head, smashes open and this burning ichoric acid now douses his head, and he is writhing in pain as well as being knocked back by the force of the hammer.

Stepping through the door Draxos quickly notes the close quarters and stabs one of the duergar through the eye with an arrow.

“Something satisfying in watching the delicate feykin turn into death machines when their leaves get rumpled.”  DonBrapp states.

The party makes quick work silencing the remaining incapacitated duergar as DonBrapp quickly searches the space.

The room abounds with the necessary materials, components, ointments and equipment to make magical scrolls; properly distill the amount of a creature's blood to make summoning documents.

There's a variety of crushed precious stones, mortars, pestles for crushing precious stones, various topical engines and components. The entire space is filled with the apparatus of unholy demonic magic.

There are 11 tomes, mostly associated with proper summoning rituals, the necessary incantation and glyphs involved. Release containment and closing of interplanar areas specific to the abyss.

“Grab a log, and something to put all these items in… do it NOW.  MOVE!”  The dwarf points to the orcs.

The center table is an enormous oak table, polished and ornate.

The orcs and Svirfneblin hack the beautiful table into kindling at the dwarf’s command as the Barbarian grabs the near-death human cleric.

“Corpsfucker!  What of this Athlatka?  A wedding?  What in the nine hells was going on here?”  Kailute asks.

 The body of a quite underfed human, stringy kind of strength underneath what you can see is very well kept but low-quality chainmail. Right half his face is melted away and he's just trying to sort of breath through the cavities that still exist as his eyes look upon the half-orc.

“Matrimony.  Join the dead with undead.  Rule the realms.” The human attempts to form words as he writhes in pain.

The table takes immediate flame, and DonBrapp kicks out the door to open up airflow.  The rubble is engulfed in fire as the cleric palms a ruby from his pack.  Casting any doubts aside the dwarf steps into the fires, the other side of which a surprised Durnkin is delighted to see him.

Kailute and Draxos immediately take charge of getting the gnomes and orcs to haul as much alchemic equipment through the portal as they can.

“Forges be blessed, Coinfather!  It’s chaos in the south with the humans since you left!”  the Forgemaster shares, joyed by the heroes but careful to note the piles of items the heroes enterage begins to place around the forge caverns.

“The southrons are marching, and William and his kin seek to control the lands east of the mountains.  The road to Heliogabalus been closed!”

Durnkin relays that the Barovians have sent a force on the march; expect a company of 150-200 pikemen.   The Arcatans who aligned with Strahd are now a broken group of bandits menacing the mountains.

“Troubling to be sure; Durnkin…”   DonBrapp says before turning “Lady; ye staying with the dwarves to home or coming back with us?”

Before she can answer Jonleth steps forth “I can accompany you milady if you like.”
“Hells no.” Quilro mutters.

“Durnkin!  Gods be good!  There is little time…  ye must offer Thane Tokar our thanks for assembling his warriors and escorting this maid…”  Lady Christine steps through the flames as alchemic equipment and components continue to fly out of the forge-portal and into the ornate chamber.  It appears two orcs and two gray gnomes are frantically pulling items from the shelves of a darkened chamber on the other side and throwing and carrying what they can.
“Barovia marches to Bloodstone.  Fyrnlocke has sent word, so we have been making preparations in haste to assist.  Almost 200 pikemen are making their way through the mountains.  The skinbags in the valley continue to harass and fight amongst themselves in Damara…  always thus among the short lived.”  The Forgemaster sets aside his work, taking Lady Christine aside and offering her some water while the dwarf directs the working party.  Kailute adds his strength to the group while Jonleth is nearly tripped up among the hurried offload.

At the end of their moving blitz, a sizable amount of tomes, scrolls, and magical alchemy components have been staged.

“If needs be, contact Feglegos.  He will likely be interested in some of these items, and perhaps find use or information among Kazersnert’s stalls.”  DonBrapp states, as the fire portal begins to shrink.

“And make sure those lads COUNT EVERY COPPER!” he yells before disappearing back into the portal.

“Christine, Lady Christine, does that work for you?” Draxos turns to ask.

“I will solemnly do my best to honor you as allies; awkward and demeaning and at times truly horrifying as that experience was know that you are all forever in my personal debt.”  The young women speaks earnestly. “...And now I believe perhaps all of the folk of Bloodstone will you a great favor if you can forward this menace.”
The flames withering, the group makes its quick goodbyes and the heroes step back into the underdark.

8pm 29 Hammer

Hammer of the newly fallen year 1358 finds trade restricted to those with the magic and the fortitude to break through near shore ice, and the fierce winter gales of the Moonsea.
…In the far west, the Zhents seek to consolidate their military control over the western Moonsea, thereby controlling trade with the Sword Coast on their exclusive caravan routes through the desert Anauroch, as trade through Cormyr and Sembia is duly taxed as befits long established human kingdoms in the geographic center of the western realms.

To the east, the farthest northern organized reach of humanity in the central realms is wracked with civil war stoked by infernal interests.  An undead army of darkness summoned or created by the Red Lich Zenghyi moves toward the Bloodstone Pass, blocked by the Pelauvir River (known as Beaumaris) in Bloodstone acts as a channeling barrier as undead armies cannot cross flowing water.

The fair creatures of the Barony of Bloodstone are rallying around the recently arrived Heroes of Waymeet; having liberated the Oriothar Clanhold Hillsafar Hall, they then purged the mines of demons and found a deep tunnel to the underdark, where an unholy temple to the prince of undead had been carved from the sheer rock in an enormous cavern where gray dwarves had cruelly enslaved the svirfneblin inhabitants.

Infiltrating by means of magic, the heroes have instigated utter pandemonium among the demons and duergar, thwarting their plans to forge a union between unholy deities and enable a giant portal to unleash undead inhabitants straight on to the prime material.
Now as the duergar and demons recoil and consolidate, the heroes stand refreshed having looted a ceremonial preparation chamber and its contents, allowing Lady Christine to make way back toward Bloodstone through Hillsafar.

Now the party turns to survey the carnage from atop the Ziggurat.
“We taking evree gawtsverdamt tapestry in this temple.”  DonBrapp mutters.
Observing a particularly well crafter spidercloak on the elven mage, Kailute inquires as to its origin.

Turning with a raised eyebrow the elf sneers “Green skin! Well, I know that this isn't the same as ripping apart small game in order to appease whatever angry gods cause fire, but this is. A this is a demonic summoning preparation room it. If you have any care for the weave or infernal application thereof, look never. Mind my words are wasted, excuse me.”
“Wear it, ilf.  Know a receipt is due.”  DonBrapp spits.

“We both know he is going to go for the dagger.  Keep eyes.” Quilro signals to DonBrapp.
The entire party does a quick scan of possessions before moving out back to the top of the ziggurat.

A path of destruction marks where the dragon fire and magical combat have destroyed many of the upper chambers.

Kailute sticks his fingers into three glass tubes before striding atop the pyramid and screeching “COME OUT AN PLAAAYAAAAY!”

Quilro leads the way east around toward the stairs beyond mounds of corpses.  DonBrapp immediately moves toward the onyx demonic statue, prying two fist sized rubies from the sculpture.

“Well, perhaps that will grace an important tome one day.” Kailute jests as the party surveys the destruction below.

  That entire area the walls have blown out so there is now a 10 foot wide descending staircase that leads down. Around the northern portion of the room is the debris that appears to have been from our college private chambers, and that's where there was a mix of high-end furniture tapestries. Personal belongings, but all blown apart and ruined by a dragon who moved through the southern space appears to open into a much larger, almost military barrack style room. However, it's a barrack style room furnished in a higher quality than anything normal you've seen. This appears to be the final space of the elite guard of the Duergar, as well as some clerical associates. What remains now is a corner of it burned out with most of the bedding tapestries and personal furniture smashed in combat.  A gaping hole in the structure opens to the northwest.

The exterior walls that remain standing are lined with a series of cabinets, armoires areas for hanging, clothing and weapons, while the middle space is interspersed with a series of ornate four poster; the northern portion is a lounge for the maintenance of weapons.   The center of the southern wall is filled with an enormous writhing bas relief door.  There are two locks barely discernible from the vantage point; interlocked slithering forms of reptilian and human copulation bathed in a low red light.

Stepping forward Quilro immediately senses the locks possess an interplanar magic.
Kailute grunts “got this” and steps forward to touch the axe to the door and as soon as it touches there’s energy pulled and the iron fixings on both sides just flex outwards as the energy is sucked into the axe. The door is suddenly inert and opens to a 20x20 antechamber to the south.

It’s utterly silent within, except for what sounds like wheezing coming through a door opposite the other side again, 20 feet wide, nearly 25 feet tall. Wrought iron this time with sort of a horrible purple energy infused in both sides of the door, but instead of sort of the repulsive writhing snake the elf is nearly entranced by the beautiful image of a high Sylvan Forest town nestled above the treetops.

The floor is constructed of a mosaic of gray, blood, red, black and off-white tiles all appear to be slightly different elevations, creating a texture to the surface and indicating hidden holes at 25’ above the floor.

Kailute seizes a spear from one of the orcs and presses upon the floor, noting some give from the tiles.  Each of the colored stones almost mesmerizes and appears to be moving. The image is so powerful the barbarian is struck disoriented.

Quilro steps forward and in an unlikely feat of strength pulls Kailute back from the edge toward the door.

As each of the members looks at the door beyond, they see a different image, depicting something alluring and further indicating an infernal magical trap.

“I think the door…  is a demon.”  DonBrapp stutters.

Quilro snaps his fingers and concentrates, forcing his mind toward the abyssal portal.  Immediately the elf is wracked with pain, anger, and hatred.  The door is possessed by a demon tricked ages ago to serve as a living guardian in the service of Grazzt, a name that causes the elf great pain to invoke in his mind.

“For a bargain…”   a deep sibilant voice croaks in the elf’s mind “…I can grant thee access.”

Opening his mind to parlay for just a second, the elf is wracked by painful spasms.  His joints and bones grind as the demon attempts to bend him to his will, but the mage resists at the cost of his wounds.


“Inside.  My…  phylactery keeps me bound.  Destroy it…..”

The demon requests destruction of his phylactery binding him to service and the and pledge of a called favor through the pained elf’s mind.

DonBrapp dismisses the idea as nonsense and gazes upon the door with care, intensely studying the surface for clues.  Stepping into the space the dwarf flies over toward the portal, calling forth protection from evil and intraplanar creatures.

The demonic door begins to plead louder with the elf as the dwarf approaches, gauntlet outstretched with a dispel evil in his open hand.   The door releases a squib of defeated energy before being rendered inert and opening into an enormous 60 foot wide by about 50 feet deep storeroom full of treasure.  Both the walls are lined by various chests, stuffed sacks. An enormous amount of spell components. Items of art treasure abound.  In the middle there are two rows of nothing but tightly stacked pallets of trade bars. You can see stacks of Bloodstone. You can see stacks of silver. You can see small pallets of mithril.  Stacks of bloodstone trade bars, mithril, silver and gold along with the captured, seized, confiscated wealth of both the Svirfneblin, Bloodstone mines and likely all of the surrounding communities.

The equivalent of about and each of these bars is worth 500 of its denominated metal; and the party observes 1100 gold bars, 4000 silver, 280 platinum, 550 electrum, and 6000 bloodstone.

The attenuarium hums with energy, and the dwarf notices again a duality of negative planar energy.

Aside from being a different elevation, sort of like a smooth hand worn mosaic, the floor of this is the same as the previous room. Dust covers the floor suggesting it had not been entered in some time.

There is a felt covered chest that grabs the attention of the cleric, and he floats over toward it.

The center of the room is mostly the stacked coins and whatnot around the edges of the room, or the variety of the specialized treasures and assorted magical curios. DonBrapp is captivated by a four by four foot velvet wrapped chest in a corner.

As the dwarf floats toward the chest the attenuarium signals with a sharp sting of cold before the dwarf can observe the plane in two simultaneous realms.  The utter dark and undeath of the negative material the current prime.  His perception is able to discern wisps of trapped souls and the manifestation of undead power.  At the same time the demon’s phylactery is illuminated to his deathsight.

With a hissing noise of escape to wispy shades leap forward and slash at the dwarf.  Two of their darkened claws rake through the cleric’s magical armor.  The dwarf is singed by searing cold pain as it does pierces the magical breastplate, but somehow avoids the void of the negative plane these creatures are feasting upon the proximity to.

Kailute maintains his position outside the chamber but hurls an axe at one of the shades.
Quilro releases the power of five concussive impact magical energy as they interact with the shadow being that is drifting towards the dwarf in the warehouse beyond.  While the darkness of the shadow appears to grow lesser there is no apparent direct damage from the wounds.
DonBrapp curls his arms in the ceremonial invocation of light, pointing the magic inward to the large array of gems inset in his armor.

Snapping his arms out the dwarf again lifts in flight, slowly turning toward the shades with the gathering

Draxos scans the exterior for approaching enemies as the barbarian heaves an axe at the remaining demons.

“Bring them out to us, Dwarf!”  the half-orc shouts.
“Howabout you all get the fuck in here!”

Jonleth puts his arm on Quaro shoulders; “like I've got a gust of. Wind that but I. Don't think this applies.”

“Well, I'm about to cast magic missile again, so I don't. Have time to argue with them.” The mage-thief responds.

Instead a noxious cloud of gas appears on the floor, and Jonleth magically pushes into the chamber.

Within the treasure room the dwarf casts a mighty heal as the noxious gas floats along the floor toward him.

Kailute runs through, jumps through the cloud. There's a stinging sensation as he bursts through it and finds purchase with his blade against a shadow demon, even as the elf’s magic missiles bounce off.

As DonBrapp turns at the same time that the beam of light hits this shadow beast, it's also caught in its upper mid-section by the top of the hammer that blasts the creature back toward the chamber wall.

With that Between the impact of the hammer as well as the pure energy that releases from the center of the breastplate, that shadow demon is obliterated and destroyed.

The potency of the noxious cloud is dissipating as the light from DonBrapp’s chest plate obliterates the shadows.  As the light bounces off the precious metals the power is amplified, scorching through another pair of shadow demons.

Draxos steps in and lands two arrows killing another demon and his third shot finds another.
The remaining shadow demon fights on with the dim blue light of its lifeless eyes.

Quilro steps in and immediately ignores the awesome haul to thrust and draw ichor from the remaining shade. Turning toward the victim DonBrapp hurls his hammer while focusing his light, eviscerating the second shadow.

In the bouncing light of Vergadanian armor, the group catches their breath taking stock of the seized hoard of Bloodstone and Svirfneblin treasures.  Several types of armor, magical blades as well as demonic and abyssal offerings are within.

The cleric’s attention is pulled toward the scent of rotten flowers and death with a scroll clearly on the flesh of a being, protected by a glyph.

“I can remove this.” Jonleth says, stepping forward.  With a sickening smell of burning flesh the warding glyph evaporates. Two  mixed tubes of brass and humanoid leather flesh are sown together. The attenuarium thrums with a steady tempo as the dwarf ponders the scrolls.  The infernal incantations offer a thesis and map related to abyssal planar navigation.  The rites appear to summon and fuse the spirit of a demon to a planar craft for effectively navigating the Abyss.

Further the dwarf is learnt to understand the nature of eternal combat within;  not only between the forces of law and chaos but within the Abyss itself.  Souls are harvested for power to connive and grow more powerful.  For a moment DonBrapp almost swoons with the dark knowledge, but quickly rights himself.

Among the treasure is a 3 foot bone white rod that appears to enable travel on the negative material plane, at least control its minions.

Quilro considers a magically suspended unicorn an ample prize for Barla’s store.

A clutch of magically stable gems are found, facilitating the development of magic items.

Kailute finds a particularly incredible weapon, distinctly the bane of spellcasters.

DonBrapp trembles at the touch of the scroll in his hands made as it is of the flesh of an unknown humanoid. Scanning the infernal document, the cleric's mind is simultaneously troubled by deep and dark dreams, legions of infernal creatures locked in combat for power and control. Of the abyss. Their hierarchy ever shifting as each demonic Prince attempts to gain power through harvest and trickery of material souls. The coin father shutters with the realization his essence is somewhat stained. With this knowledge. Further, the scrolls offer a glimpse of a terrifying but also very alluring contraption. Appearing to be a vessel pieced together through foul magic using the flesh and bones of countless creatures joined with an enslaved demon, a living vessel plying the ethereal and the outer planes. Trembling with awe and interest, the dwarf secures the abhorrent texts in his backpack, protected by their brass scroll tops and fixed.

Kailute runs his hands along a flanged long sword with hand guards of exquisite design. Two emeralds are embedded in the hilt of the blade and above the crossguard and appear to catch light within rather than reflect it. The style of craftsmanship on the panel is extremely detailed with a sunburst engraving surrounding the lower gem reminiscent of Elven work. The blade appears to be an object from beyond the realms fo Faerun and appears to feed on magic. John Litho offers. Pausing his own exploration of the treasure vault. Draxxus is utterly disgusted by the concentration of coin loot and magic clearly pillaged from the mines and Snurf Nebulin. He yells as Don Brapp turns from his reverie, causing the focused beam of continual light gem in the center of his armor to catch the Ranger in his eyes.
Who has all this? Sorry.

Quilro keeps his eyes darting from the 12 softball sized gems that John left had identified as being able to store up to fifth level spells. Back out to the Ruin Plaza to the north. He else thinks he can hear something moving, not close, but not far shuffling on the floor. The direction of its movement isn't clear due to the ruin to the north, and otherwise the cavernous open space to the West.

11PM 29 Hammer

Shaking himself out of reverie, Quilro shouts “We must return this treasury to its rightful owners.”

“Yes, eelf.  As was discussed as you zoned out…” DonBrapp responds. “Only what we need to retake and defend Bloodstone; or those really singularly spectacular items.”
“…those gems appear IMMENSELY valuable..”  Jonleth begins before the elf cuts him off.

“No, Jonleth. I also am tempted by the magical gems. But I'm no longer. Clouded by the evil presence in my mind, and those magical gems need to stay here, they will forever be lost to you and I.”

Both elves observe Jonleth attempt to palm one of the gems.

“Halt your hand.” Draxos commands in elven.

The bow Draxos found appears to be crafted from one of the higher planes of order, and so it is a + 6 against chaotic creatures. The bow’s name is Ethelred.

The sounds of wet schlepping sounds echoes from the north.

Quilro prowls forward, and hear’s the distinct sounds of undead marching from the west.

“What’s your magic stick, say sir dwarf?  Sounds like undead to me!”

He relays the sounds of combat and approaching undead to the north.

Peering down across the damage and havoc already wreaked by the party, the duergar, the demons, you now see an advancing mob of undead approaching from the south, mindlessly shuffling north in your general direction, bloated, disgusting fetid ghasts, skeletons moving amongst zombies. It's as if someone had a pen of captive undead and either the doors broke or it was released and now it is kind of deliberately and slowly moving in your general direction even at. As elements of it and detect the open, you know you know areas below and they fall as they go.

Draxos leaned against a stacked pallet of bloodstone bars, trying to calm the frustrating annoyance of dealing with Jonleth.  Suddenly the elf is calmed, and a sudden peace falls upon him.

“Draxos Hulch, what brings you this deep and dark from the elven forests you should be calling home?”

“We’re on a journey of slaying demons and ridding the world of foul beasts!”  The elf thinks back within.

Do you speak for everyone within your group?

Did you say within my group, yes. For the best of my knowledge, yes.
T
here may be some among you whose commitment to the destruction of demons and the advancement of the goodly ends is lesser than yours. We hope your example shall lead the way and put them right.

The voice speaks in native elven, and the calm tones of his tongue put the ranger at ease.

The heavy blows you have struck against the forces of evil have not gone unnoticed by the gods.   However, I bring to you a warning that your success carries with it risks of its own.

What risks do you speak of?
You sit now in a Chamber. Barely able to project to you because of the very thickness of evil in which it is surrounded. And the objects which it holds, some of which very imbued with demonic souls themselves, can serve. Not only to aid you in your ability.
To defeat you.

But also can return to evil. The location of you and your companions, and you should know. The many, many foes you have slain not all have been eternally distinguished, and many gather and plot to seek their revenge over your actions in these areas.

That brings a big smile to my face.

At me I have a gigantic smile on my face at this point.
We of the El Norian have observed your trueness of purpose. And although sometimes your heart may have led your actions to be. Less than. Know that we keep an eye and when necessary it's able. We can and will assist those who seek to thwart the creatures of the abyss.

I shall be your mortal sword.

Know that the goodly creatures. Of Demora and Bloodstone Valley in particular seek leadership. Seek guidance. Seek the ability to consolidate and repulse the evil. While you have shut down an enormous Ave, there still remains gathering trouble to the north.

Some of your companions. Are unwittingly being used by others amongst the region.

Well, I hope it's me.
No, it is.

This can't be like a God. It can't be a God. The dwarf doesn't know this because the dwarf didn't hear that and tracks us. Hasn't told them. But if it was a God, the God would have known. That the heroes of way me are in fact. The Champions of Hillsfar. And the liberators of Hillsfar Hall.

Dwarf are you talking to zanghi?
Dwarf one time. Are you talking to?
Zanghi absolutely not.

The ranger shakes out of his reverie and readies the bow.