Necromancing the Stone

In the midst of bemoaning the loss of Lord Lubboch and pondering the probability of procuring another Parker, the group is feeling somewhat disheartened. Well, all except for the Feaster, who is feeling like a sprout in the spring.
“‘Oh the cruel nature of fate – Lubboch was wearing a ring of wishes. He could have wished back another character that was made fishy. Oh how cruel…”
“Wait”, says Dalliance…”I have a wish ring too!”
And there was much rejoicing and pondering of proper wording so as to avoid any grudges. In the end, Lubboch was restored to the state in which he was immediate prior to being turned into a trout, but in the same room as Dalliance – as opposed to under the mountain. And so the words were spoken.

And then there was Lubboch. And Lubboch was made to give up his wish ring to Dalliance. It was an easy decision of course. So reduced in number only by one, the group seeks additional adventure. Dalliance requests something brief and local, as her old bones are getting creaky. Dither, dither, shop, investigate, dither…eventually the decision is made to try and acquire the services of a cleric. Inquiries are made, applicants are interviewed and a cleric of Azuth is chosen.

The group sets out to follow up on a lead provided by a fellow wizard of Dalliance’s acquaintance. Apparently a rock in the desert foothills produces a grey foam. Nearby is a necromancing operation…or something. Rumor has it that great swag is a distinct possibility. The Beholdertoll has doubled in the past few months, to the party’s dismay. Paid and passed, into the desert – camels are summoned, the journey is made with a deficit of life threatening encounters. Strange manscorpions are seen in the distance as well as what might be a mining operation in the vast desert expanse.

The foaming rock is found, and an animated skeleton politely informs the group that the area is under the protection of a wizard. Scouting reveals a nearby cairn, guarded by skeletal figures. The group approaches and triggers a series of gongs. Drawing nearer – Dalliance lets fly with a fireball, toasting the watchful dead. This evokes an outraged cry from within the cairn.
“Go away! We don’t want any!”
“We had to save you from the skeletons” opines the Feaster.
“I’m a frikkin necromancer, you dolt!”.
The group climbs atop the cairn, and are the recipients of a toasty surprise from within the gravesite. The fireball nearly slays the priest of Azuth, who seems a bit taken aback at the wizardly methods of diplomacy.

With those graceful openings, a discussion is entered into and a bargain is struck. The group will enter and plunder to their heart’s content, but the cairn-dwelling necromancer’s lab space and workshop are off limits. Agreed, and the group descends to meet the wizardess of the waste, with a withered arm and a plate-mail clad skeletal guard…and an entourage composed of about 100 animated corpses. She points out a staircase to the lower depths and bids the group adieu, retreating to her workspace…