Following up on the generalized looting they climb to the top floor and ransack the commander’s bedroom, seizing several magic items and a wardrobe full of fine clothing – left behind. They exit through a concealed door and find themselves in a short hallway – they hear some noise around the corner and move to investigate – but a portcullis drops from the ceiling and blocks their path. An orcish face pokes out from around the corner, surveys the scene and then the sound of running feet and slamming doors announces their swift departure from the area.
The group backtracks and races down the stairs to the ground floor and manages to slay the soldiers before they can escape...

The westward trek lasts only about a day before the party’s aerial scout discerns the remains of a village ahead. Could this be the site of the slaughter that doomed the spirits at the tower? Some recon reveals that the village is occupied. Although in ruins, enough remains of a large building (an inn, perhaps) and tower and large manor house to house occupants. The inn houses ogres and perhaps small giants, the tower is stocked with a flock of harpies and there are unknown occupants in the manor house, though light leaks out from behind shuttered windows and betrays their presence. The monsters seem relaxed, unaware of the party’s presence. Indeed, the group waits the entire next day before launching a pre-dawn assault...

After defeating the crazed minotaurs, the bodies quickly crumble to dust. Some quick, looting and one of the party members looks out the window to see a large army of translucent figures surrounding the tower, staring upwards. Creepy. On to the next door – more crazed individuals. These are humans, clad in rotting cloth, with foam-flecked lips and wild eyes. They assault the paladin while babbling insane phrases about time standing still and a curse laid upon them. The fight is brutal. The paladin has each leg removed once and it is only the swift action of the cleric keeps her from dying twice.
As the party cuts the attackers down one by one, a howl comes from the spirits outside with each death. The cleric casts a spell to immobilize the the last one and the party ties him up...

After conversing with the floating eye – totally not a beholder, by the way – for a time, and after apparently providing the correct answer to the scenario posed by the non-beholder, the group ventures through the only available doorway. They find themselves in a room filled about waist high with bones and withered corpses. On the opposite side, a door seems like the only exit.
Snowplowing through the grisly remains, they gain access to the door and the Galadin opens it. Paladin and cleric find themselves face to face with a dragon, shrouded in tendrils of wispy darkness. It gives a quick hello, and the paladin deploys the gem of true seeing. The dragon breathes and the inky breath sucks most of the vitality out of the cleric, paladin and mage.
Startled (understatement) the group commences...

Following discussion with the War Wizards, the cleric of Torm marches to the morgue and uses his powers to return Ofelia from the dead. This causes some amount of consternation among the mages and word leaks about the relative power of the strange foreigner in the city. Ofelia reveals little save that one of the attackers was familiar to the group – the old man who they saw ‘slain’ in the streets before they set out to eh lair of Adzerak.
It is revealed that the man in question was the master of operations for an adventuring group known as The Puppetmasters – who apparently are in league with whomever wants the books the party took – and used? Hmm. That could be problematic.
Ofelia lets it be known that she wishes to part ways with the group – it being a bit too dangerous to travel with th...