The party has a look at the stone disc – it radiates some magic. The runes on it make little sense, but Cythor does remember books mentioning ancient teleportation stones created by the Ammarindar dwarven clan centuries again. They were supposed to enable them to instantly teleport across their empire. But that was before the fall of Netheril hundreds of years ago and many magics have been lost since then. Teleportation portals that were dotted across the realms before the death of Mystra, Goddess of Magic, and the ensuing tumult of the Spellplague, now stand as overgrown ruins, useless.
Lacking any volunteers, they try throwing one of the goblin corpses onto it. The goblin disappears. How strange. Not sure what to do with the stone, the party decide to leave it there for now and investigate it further later on.
Scattered amongst the goblins are 60 gold pieces and and what Cythor reckons is a potion of healing on the body of the goblin hexer.
On through the east door. Erithan scouts ahead – a corridor leads east about 70 feet. There’s some stairs at the end leading down, just before that there’s an opening on both the north and south walls. The north seems blocked by a portcullis with what appears to be some slow foot shuffling coming from behind it, to the south a closed door.
Pressing on, Erithan sneaks a look through the portcullis – there appears to be some dwarven zombies behind it shuffling around. A quick message back to the party and a general plan of “shoot them through the portcullis” is established. Thaath joins in poking his halberd through the bar to swipe at the zombies. This works well, until the zombies shuffle forwards and raise the portcullis themselves and advance on the party. Taking a step back, Thaath spits a burst of lighting at the advancing crowd, killing some zombie rotters at the back and wounding the more fully formed zombies in the front.
“A new plan! A new plan!” cries Cythor, dragging Bronale back down the corridor to the pit room.
“We can use the teleportation disc. It’s not fixed to the floor – we can pick it up, roll down the corridor and let the zombies disappear into it. Genius!”
A tactical withdrawal is hastily organised, but not before the south door opens and out steps a big goblin bearing a nasty looking warhammer, which he proceeds to hit Bronale with. Thaath isn’t having much fun with these zombies either, but eventually the party manages to rearrange itself down the corridor, thanks to some splendid covering fire from Arowyn and Erithan.
When Cythor lifts the teleportation stone onto it’s edge, the goblin body reappears, looking much the worse for wear, slightly crispy about the edges. Cythor rolls the teleportation disc between the party and the ongoing zombies, lets it fall flat onto the ground and stands back, beaming proudly. “Come and get it suckers!”.
He looks markedly less pleased when the zombies and the goblin walk on, through and past the teleportation stone and begin laying into Bronale and Thaath again.
“Oi! That’s not fair” decries Cythor to the universe in general. Which to be fair is true. It wasn’t. Which only goes to show.
Bronale finally manages to hit the zombie attacking him, allowing his battlerager fury to build up, but he’s taken a fair old pounding so far. But the combined might of the two dwarves, deftly lead by Thaath and volleys of fire both arcane and otherwise from the rear ranks is enough to drop the goblin and the remaining zombies. But not before a skulking goblin figure dashes out from the southern doorway and runs down the stairs.
After the zombies drop, there are no further assaults on the party. “They must be waiting for us downstairs” says Cythor. “Let’s have another look at this disk”.
The teleportation disk still seems to radiate some magic, but it now appears to be in a dormant state. None of the letters and symbols carved onto it make any sense, and a series of “Abracadabrahs” and the like don’t make any difference. Bronale picks up the warhammer that caused him so much pain in the fight, and sticks it in his belt to make sure it doesn’t happen again.
The southern room houses a seven tall stone statue of a huge goblinoid creature standing on a marble dias, brandishing a huge waraxe in its hand. “Go on Erithan” says Cythor to the drow. “You’re a thief, go and see if it’s trapped”.
“I’m not a thief” protests Erithan, “I’m just good with locks – that’s all”. A quick perusal reveals some writing on the dias in goblin. “It says ‘Ogre King’” translates Thaath.
“And look – there’s something broken off on top of its head – right where a horn would be” remarks Cythor.
“What did we do with horn?” asks Cythor. “The horn the goblins were desperate to bring back to here so they could use it in a ceremony to raise the dead Ogre King. We did leave it somewhere safe didn’t we?”
“It’s perfectly safe” says Bronale, reaching into his pack. “It’s right here.”
There now follows a short interlude during which time every bit of rope the party has is wrapped around the statue to try and restrain its limbs while someone climbed up and placed the horn dagger on top of the statue, followed by climbing back down again and a mass untying of rope.
As expected, the Ogre King didn’t magically appear, but at least they found a small tribute hole containing another healing potion and some gold coins (minus Erithan’s handling fee).
Arowyn finds 20 gold and a small ruby amidst the zombie filth in the north alcove. They then line up at the top of the stairs to face the danger waiting for them down below. Because it IS down there, and it DOES know they’re coming.