Emerging from the ruins of Kret into a deafening wind on the edge of a narrow peak. Frozen clouds hang just below the adventurers threatening to swallow them whole. Above them is a beautiful blanket of starlight in the strangely clear night’s sky. A narrow path carves into mountain sloping down. The sight is a comforting thing to the weary travelers.
.The group decides to doubles back and finish exploring the ruins. So they return to the passage to the temple which is decorated with surprisingly well preserved paintings of surreal scenes giving a dream like impression. The arch ways into the temple are once beautifully carved visages of the Goddess ruined by damage that appears to be intentional over the centuries. They open to a domed temple reeking of decay and rot. Scrapping noises start to echo as the denizens look to greet the new arrivals. The undead who dwell here exist as an affront to the goddess laid here to guard the temples treasure and to insult its memory. On the altar is a book bearing a glyph against evil undisturbed for as long as the temple has fallen. “Necromancer Fruu I have seen through the grace of Desna a foul presence reached through the void between stars and into Councilman Daedalon. Something calls to him and he answers. Already I feel a ripple of evil taking root in the city. A first step in many which will ruin all we hold dear. I seek to you as I know of no other who would hear me in good will. If we do not stop Daedalon and his masters our world will be torn asunder. Please consider my words.”.
The site nearest to the exit from Kret is safe from weather and wandering monsters. The path along the peak a precarious at best. Hours into the Journey the path opens up a ice slick plateau. Light gathers under the frozen ground and glows softly. A song wafts down from the peak captivating as it is deadly. A Harpy is nearby and starving.
After the Harpy is over come the party can traverse the plateau and make way back to the path. As they take the first turn around the mountain they can make out something in the distance. A tower curling up into the horizon like an elk’s horn. A thousand fires glow bright enough to illuminate the high walls at the edge of even the keenest eyes among the adventurers. “There it is.” Argyle mutters causing the snow in beard to shower down to his boots. “Your friend is there.”.
The days ahead are rough travels Phoebe is put to the test guiding the party down. The paths that twist and intertwine are treacherous. Chunks of the mountain routinely break away and crumble to the ground below. The weather is severe and unpleasant. Food is scarce even for the wiliest forager. It takes time but the group navigates it way off the mountain and onward to the tower.
Waiting for the group below is a canny pack of Worgs who watched much of the groups descent. They ambush the group in a pincers but are cut down and skinned.
The group bleeds and harvests the Worg which attracts horrifying attention. A young white dragon flies through the frozen mist and helps its self to one of the bloody carcasses. As it seems prepared to fight for its meal it is caught off guard by the Elf’s diplomatic attempts and decides to fly await with its fresh meat. No one acted with hostility and it saved the group a devastating battle.
Once the group is within a few days travel from Pxnkhuut Ziggurat they are intercepted by a group of tribal men on dog drawn sled. The men speak Old Px and shout angrily at the adventurers. The dogs pulling the sled look poorly treated and somewhat familiar. The group immediately recognizes the dogs and attacks. After they dispatch the raiders they decide to seek out Drogo’s body. They find him after nine days of searching and take his body with them. It is another six days before they make it back.
The group faces no other obstacles on their way to the Ziggurat. The gate await them and the last part of their search for the missing Half Orc. What waits beyond the gates is a blood thirsty and primal society who all but worship the arena in the center of the Ziggurat. The group will have to navigate the labyrinthine politics that bind those who gamble with blood.
The group is split between seeking a proper burial for Drogo and finding Garyson. They find the blood pits and learn about the strange culture they are surrounded by. As they investigate the arena Drogo is absconded, taken by some mysterious persons.
Word spreads that a native woman named Aiega is looking for the party. She is a potent druidess who feels indebted for the group having saved the body of her brother Drogo. She tells Phoebe that she will help them if she can.
Pishposh Mcgoosh, a bookie for the blood pits displays a proficiency with Common and an endurance for the groups shenanigans. He aids the group finding lodging and direction. Eventually he reveals himself as the agent of a Prince. Leading them to the means of Garyson’s liberation.
One of the Princes has taken special notice of Garyson. He has shielded the Half Orc from outright slaughter and is instrumental in freeing the Cleric. Quoren the Sorcerer knows both the War Sheath and the touch of Garyson’s lord in iron. He explains he cannot help but implies that the damage wrought left gaps in the cities security. Taking the hint the group frees Garyson who does not seem overly inclined to leave.
Aiega keeps her word and wield impressive magics to not only help the group escape but make it back to Under Country. Herein Sprejasfin the messenger Yakom rushes to group explaining that he has delivered their message but was paid to wait for their return. To the steam cars they return to Rivvihuas.