Morak and Harold returned after being woken up on the side of a hill by Ruarc and a band of mercenaries who were previously employed by a now missing archaeologist known as Merfidius. Charles took an immediate liking to the brutish woman called Mog, and while the others discussed terms of employment for the rest, the innkeeper looked worriedly at the ceiling beams.
After agreeing on rates, the party headed back to the tomb, bolstered by new blood. It appeared much as they’d left it, until Harold, the lantern bearer, tripped over a trip wire and dropped a mass of blankets on the heads of the party’s main fighting force. Beset by hobgoblins, goblins and fire beetles, and having lost many, the party turned to what they knew best: fire. Remembering their patron, Pyros, they made short work of the remaining opponents. Charles mourned the death of his betrothed.
Heading on, the party came, at last, to the quarry they sought: the goblin king, or so they assumed. Two flaming flasks later, the room was ruined, and those within it, slain. The party collected its prize: the hobgoblin’s crown, a pair of silver bracers, a jewelled torc, and a mighty looking battleaxe; and bid farewell to Forsyth the Annoying, who sadly perished in the flames.
Lighting a funeral pyre, the party gathered for marshmallows, before heading back to town, to claim their reward from Gunthrik, who seemed fairly pleased to finally be done with them at last, and so handed them the “shield that deflects all blows” with great reverence before telling them to piss off.