Glowering amid dark rumours and terrible stories of desperate adventure, death, betrayal and glimmering treasures squat the unutterably ancient halls of Gloamhold. This crumbling, benighted, haunted dungeon complex of unknown, but undeniably vast, extent is buried deep within the grim and brooding spray-drenched headland of the Mottled Spire. It is a place of legends, madness and death.
The two surviving, hideously deformed humans fled down the narrow passageway and some of the party gave chase. The passageway twisted and turned and eventually came out into the room featuring the low cyclopean wall surrounding the shaft leading deep down into the Mottled Spire’s living rock. Orm and Jeremiah reached the shaft at almost the same instance. Jeremiah’s keen eyesight picked out one of the party’s enemies staggering down the spiral stair girdling the shaft. A dagger flew from the rogue’s hand to strike the badly injured warrior. With only a small cry, the warrior tumbled into the shaft and was gone. Even Jeremiah’s keen ears did not hear the falling body land and this horrible realisation later led to much fevered conjecturing as to how far down the shaft actually descended.
Making their final preparations, the party crept closer to the door leading into the manor’s single tower. Sadly, they were not stealthy— Thangrimm in particular making a tremendous amount of noise as he moved into position. A quasi-feminine shriek came from inside the tower, “Go away, or I will kill you!” Of course, this threat did little to deter the brave and heroic adventurers and so Orm—confident in his own prowess and general manliness—entered the tower to speak with the shrieking harridan within.