s the death scream fades and is replaced with nervous whinnying and stomping of the horses, Doran is the first to recover her wits.  Looking to Shardis, she suggests, "Why don't the rangers check out the animals?"

    The taciturn ranger nods, draws his sickles, and motions for Cain to follow.  As he strides off, the dark-haired stranger gives Doran a wink, draws his own blade, and runs after Shardis.  Cain, however, hesitates.  He seems torn by indecision on whether or not to follow or remain.

    Rumil seeing his plight, he raises one eyebrow and then turns to punch Calimar in the shoulder.  "Bring that shiny new toy of yours and let's go to the stables.  I never got a good look at your new horse anyway."  Calimar shrugs in agreement, then takes up a lantern and the two warriors follow the rapidly departing rangers.

    Doran turns to Lugnut and tries to calm the excited kobold. "Shssh now, what noise Lugnut?  What have you heard?"

    Lugnut hisses, his eyes narrowed and fearful.  "Bad noises...down hole...down black...bad noises...come...come."  The little kobold begins to drag the bard with surprising strength towards the dread room.  The bard relents, pausing only to pick up one of the party's lanterns.  Seeing their course, Cain and Durian both draw steel and follow as the two start to enter the dread room through the ragged hole made by the attacking skeletons.

    Folly takes one look at the opening to the dread room and swallows hard.  Running a single finger under his collar, he mutters, "Maybe I'll go help the rangers."  Before anyone can say otherwise, the mage is moving quickly down the hall towards the stables.

    As the others leave, Father Martin places the holy crucifix around his neck and moves to tend the wounded monk.  Castus lies in his bedroll insentient.  His jawline grows swollen, coloured purple and black.  Oddly, it seems to hang slackly against the brother's chest.  Martin kneels down and inspects the wound.  Beneath his fingers, he feels loose bone pieces grate against each other, bringing a painful moan from the unconscious monk.  Knowing his only course, Father Martin offers up a prayer to PaterOmni as he touches the monk's sundered jaw and the holy crucifix.  As the glow from the spell warms the wounded flesh, something odd happens.  A warm light flows from the cross down Martin's arm to join the light of the prayer, redoubling its glow.  As the light fades, the monk's jaw is revealed whole and unblemished and Castus seems to rest easier.

s the man-shapes slowly begin to rise from the savaged horse carcass, Ilph freezes, a plan already forming in his mind.  With hurried hands, he tears a bit of cloth and begins to dig for a flask of oil.

    However, at the first signs of movement, the supernatural predators let out a baleful howl and two of the vile things launch themselves over the steaming corpse at the halfling. Bounding on all fours, the ghouls throw themselves on the halfling.  Their superior weights slam him into the ground and the snarling beasts savage him with unnaturally sharp talons and fangs.

    Ilph struggles for a moment against the fell creatures, but a numbing chill begins to steal his strength to move.  As his limbs, then all of his body deadens; he can only lay frighteningly aware as the hungry ghouls begin to tear into him.

hardis and the others reach the inner stable doors as a bone chilling howl echoes from the stable.  Pausing only to see that the others have drawn steel, Shardis kicks in the oaken door and rushes into the darkened stable.  As Calimar's light shines into the hall, a horrid man-shaped figure can be seen squatted over a gutted horse near the other end of the stable.  Beyond in the courtyard, two more of the fell things are attacking some small shape.

    At the intrusion of light, the ghoul by the horse carcass turns and lets out a chilling howl.  Using all fours, it hurls itself on Shardis, slamming the ranger against the stable wall. Shardis falls senseless, and the foul-smelling thing begins to tear at him with fang and claw.

    Calimar moves to aid the fallen ranger, swinging the First Thorn as he yells, "I can handle this... get the other two."  The blade falls heavily across the back of the ghoul as Rumil and the dark ranger hurry to engage the others.  Folly comes into the doorway to see Calimar rapidly dispatching the ghoul with a final spine-severing blow.  A twisted look of hatred and fear fills the mage's face as he sees the undead.  Looking further down the stable, he sees the ghouls in the courtyard and rattles off a guttural spell.  A searing green streak of magical bolts fly between Rumil and the strange ranger to strike one of the ghouls in the courtyard.  The fell thing shrieks as it is knocked spinning to the ground.  It shudders for a moment and then is still.

    At Rumil's approach, the remaining ghoul rises from its prey reluctantly.  Yet at the holy warrior's approach, it gives ground, growling and swatting with its vile claws.  Finally it gives one last hissing growl before turning and running into the darkness.  Rumil steps forward to see the still and bloodied form of Ilph, his face twisted into a pale rictus of fear.  The paladin turns and motions for Calimar to come with the lantern.

    Calimar pauses only to check Shardis.  The ranger is deathly pale and still, but he yet breathes.  Sheathing his sword, Calimar turns and moves to help the others.  As he passes the stall of the slaughtered horse, he sees a ragged hole into the ground where the ghouls must have burrowed up from below.  In the lantern light, he catches sight of something metallic as he hurries past.

s Lugnut leads, Doran and the others pick their way through the scattered rubble into the dread room.  The walls are still caked with the nauseating gore-like odor, and befouled crucifixes lie scattered about on the floor.  Near the original doorway, the zombies felled by Castus' crushing mace twitch uselessly as thy try to find some purchase to move.

    The once-sealed doorway stands like a black, toothless maw. Scattered about it lie pieces of masonry and rotting wood.  A chilling draft flows up from the depths, carrying with it a fetid, rank odor of things long dead.  As Lugnut pulls her close, Doran can hear noises that send a cold chill up her spine.  From deep down below come the rustling of cloth and the shuffling of many feet, occasionally highlighted by a low, dreadful moaning.

    Durian shifts his sword in his hand, and touches his cross. "Sounds as if there are more of them down there...waiting."  As if to confirm the knight's words, the bard takes her lantern and looks into the darkened hole.  Stretching down into the darkness, she sees a rude, narrow stairway descending into the depths.  Barely as wide as a man's shoulders, the ragged run seems a path into the abyss.

    As the bard steps back from the hole, the soft moaning from the depths grows in volume, doubling and redoubling, until it reaches a banshee's keen.  The cold draft from the depths becomes bitter and blows with gale-force strength.  As the maelstrom swirls about the room, Doran and the others are tossed about like leaves in an autumn gale, being banged against the ceiling and walls as they hurl about.

    Then, as suddenly as it came, the wind stops, dropping all hard to the stone floor.  As you lie there breathless, a biting chill seeps through your clothes and numbs your skin.  Struggling to stand, your breath can be seen fogging in the cold air.  Then, you realize that you are not alone.

    Standing nonchalantly in the darkened hole, a man leans against the frame with his arms crossed and an odd smile about his face.  He's dressed like a foppish nobleman of indeterminable years.  With his floppy silk shirt, satin doublet and breeches, and swash-topped boots, he seems an agreeable rogue.  Straightening up, he approaches with hands spread wide.  "I am so sorry for the theatrics, but I felt I must make amends.  You have been in my home for some time and I have not greeted you properly."

    Stepping closer, he seems to notice Doran for the first time.  He comes to her, takes her hand as if to kiss it, and looks into her eyes.  "Have we not met before?  You seem...familiar."

    A sudden flash of recognition and revulsion comes to the bard's face.  She backs away, looking at her hand as if it is plagued.  She utters only one word before fainting and falling to the floor.  "DIABOLUS!"

    The man looks at the stricken bard, his smile turning cruel. Facing the others, and odd burning flame comes to his eyes as he chuckles.  "It is so nice to be remembered..."

    His form flickers and grows.  His features take on an inhuman, evil cast and an aura of flame flickers about his outline.  He now towers over you, being at least nine feet in height.  He sneers at your shock, his voice rumbling uncomfortably loud.  "I SUGGEST THAT YOU DO AS YOUR FRIEND AND FLEE FROM ME AND THIS PLACE.  DO NOT PROCEED ANY DEEPER.  I WARN YOU...THERE ARE THINGS WORSE THAN DEATH, HUMANS!"  With that, the flame about him grows blindingly bright for a second, then he is gone.  Only a lingering chill and the smell of brimstone mark his presence.