Wights are the Worst
Zombres rather handily convinces Muireartach the sea hag to join the party . . . sort of . . . well, he possesses her body, which seems to be becoming a "thing" with him. Still, Z-hag's an asset to be reckoned with, especially endowed with Claws of the Umber Hulk. The pech also tags along for the nonce--he's kind enough to ask the dungeon itself a few questions, which get not especially exciting answers, to wit, the wards on the flooded room were designed to keep the nuckelavee in, and the room in which the pech took refuge was formerly used for chilling mead. Yums!
After Z-hag and the pech (who do not, sadly, have a morning zoo crew show to rival David ben Boaz and the Ziz) tunnel neatly AROUND scary-crazy-smelly-bearded-Dad-guy, the DG finds a succession of rooms containing metal benches with wall shackles handy--but only in the third are the benches occupied, by predictably hideous ladies. As one takes an ominous breath, and both sets of eyes roll around as if to imminently level a Terrible Gaze, the party attacks! One feigns unconsciousness, but we're on to that now, Missy, so when she then vomits acid at the party, Arben just wind-daggers it back into her face. They then slip by the other one, who's been fumbled, to discover a large room with three huge empty vats (for the selfsame mead?) and still more piles of trapped gold. The room also has silver braids hanging nearly to the floor--these, as Marcella learns to her chagrin, generate a nasty electric shock. They're digging a trench so as to walk under them when they're attacked by a pair of shadow-dogs--these are eventually killed after melting in and out of darkness a few times. Arben fumbles the stupid braids, and they proceed.
The next room is oddly triangular, with a couple of fancy vestments hanging on the wall. They are, of course, trapped. Zombres blithely sets off said trap, which is a doozy: skeletons, ghouls, wights, and a spectre rise up from the ground, as rocks fall from the ceiling. The ensuing battle includes some friendly fire (Gwynn manages to evade Arben's fireball just in time, and the poor pech is knocked senseless) and the tragic draining of levels from Marcella, Gwynn, and Arben by those stupid wights, who are the stupidest stupids ever. Eventually, the encroaching ray of sunlight from the sunsword puts paid to the undead; and as Arben shores up the collapsing room with his lyre of building, the group collects the spoils, namely a horn with golden inlays of people fighting dragons, a large reptilian tooth, and a brazier shaped like a coiled snake.
