After being offered a generous helping of mystery stew by a badass hobgoblin warcaster and his humanoid sidekicks, the party slipped and slid its way to victory again. Their victory was so complete, they convinced the orcs and bugbear in an adjacent room to leave quietly with their lives, no questions asked. Arathis picked up the hobgoblin warcaster’s nifty magical staff in the bargain.
After an extended rest, a pissed-off gyathanki warrior with a huge magical silver sword flew into action and began chopping the party into little chunks like a meatgrinder gone berserk. Frontline party members took turns absorbing the damage, and eventually everyone was down to their last healing surges. Things were looking pretty bleak when Arathis’ pillar of flame finally took the gyathanki warrior down. Sir Merrick, having been sliced and diced the most, took the fiend’s magical silver greatsword as a token of remembrance.
The party looted the gyathanki’s lair and found a generous piece of dragon hide, some gold, a pearl, and a scroll written in Draconic, which Torrin revealed to be a letter from someone named Irontooth. The letter thanked the gyathanki for his continued services disrupting the trade route between Fallcrest and Winterhaven.
The party then returned to Fallcrest, where they received the rewards due to them, and the Lord Warden suggested that they stay together as a sort of special forces team for the area. The party then sold their dragon hide to Teldothian, and headed straight to the Blue Moon Alehouse for a generous sampling of Kemara Brownbottle’s finest.