The Danger Gang finishes hacking the Ziggurat of Ur!

The Ziggurat of Ur! Unsurprisingly lousy with monsters. Still, the Danger Gang fought their way through undead and Gorgons, banshees and lion-faced porcupine-y things, barely survived a run-in with a crippled stone golem, got exploded at by positive- and negative-energy tentacled critters, all to reach the titular sub-sub-basement of THE HOUSE WITH TERROR AT THE BOTTOM, which contains exactly zero silverfish and damp cardboard boxes: being rather, Swank City! Fine furniture, gourmet (and suspiciously fresh) food, a reflecting pool stocked with goldfish, a conservatory—and oh, a stationary fire, and those koi? Similarly immobile. Seems the final apotheosis of Shulgi consisted of freezing time (which seems like cheating, but perhaps that’s semantics) because there he is, caught mid-applause with a couple of dancing girls.

And yet, there’s a mysterious antechamber just down the hall from King Shulgi’s achronistic cabaret; nothing but a line of salt and some near-invisible mist. Perhaps, ventures Marcella, the architect of the time stoppage is imprisoned here, behind saline bars? A tentative hail in Hebrew discerns that yes, said mist is a Time Elemental, forced into indentured temporal hiatus, and it is Not Pleased. A bargain is struck: freedom (conveniently obtained by breaking the briny border) in return for the Danger Gang’s temporary insertion into Shulgi’s sluggish timeline! Turns out his only godlike attribute is a truly staggering megalomania; luckily, it renders him immune to sarcasm. So after a fruitless but secretly contemptuous conversation, the Danger Gang calls in the Time Elemental’s half of the bargain, and happily watches immortality turn, literally, to dust.

The hack completed, the DG packs up their loot—a sunsword and an elf-femur Rod of Resurrection—and heads whither? To seek the final resting place of Isaac the Sungerian? Or wacky adventures in getting Karl remarried (death having parted him and his wife prior to her wish-assisted revivification)?

Oh also, ignoring that salt labyrinth resulted in barging through invisible lines of strength-sapping power, only rectified by—you guessed it—mapping it and reversing the path. Moral? Mazes are there for a reason.