Moonday, 27th Anyas, 528 NR, Early Morning

In the dark hours before dawn, Gildras struggled to bring himself to his feet. He was still hurt and bleeding, as were all of his friends, but a full night an a near-comatose sleep state did much to revitalize him. The warlord attended to his own wounds, then began waking the others. In no time, Phoebe had the group patched up and moving about, and the ever-silent Bakbuk had started a small cooking fire near the back of the cave. The warm glow of the flames forced back some of the dampness of the chamber, and helped to lift the companions' spirits.

By the time the sun started to rise, Gildras and Paget had scoured the cave, looking for anything useful, or of value. Gritting his teeth against the smell, Gildras rolled Irontooth's body onto its back and searched it. It was the first chance the tiefling had to study the goblin's demon skull tattoo up close. It didn't appear to have any arcane significance, but after staring at it for several moments, Gildras' eyes grew wide. "Orcus!" he exclaimed out loud, to nobody in particular. "This tattoo is a symbol of the lord of the undead, the demon Orcus. It appears that Irontooth might have been one of his followers!"

A more careful search of the corpse revealed a small, copper key. Paget had located a sturdy chest in the northeast corner of the cave, from where Irontooth first emerged. The halfling took the key from his friend and tried it out on the lock. It fit perfectly! Quickly, and with much excitement, the rogue yanked the chest open. He groaned in disappointment at the contents. There was nothing more than some old armor, and a scrap of parchment. He closed the lid and shuffled away.

Bakbuk, on the other hand, perked up at the jangling sound of maille being rustled. The dwarf padded over to the chest, grunting along the way, and pulled it back open with the end of his hammer. The normally dour-faced dwarf's countenance lit up like a yule tree. With near-reverence, Bakbuk extracted a chainmaille vest that sparkled in the diffused light of the morning sun. "Mmmm!" he exclaimed, appreciatively.  Phoebe approached and examined the magical armor. "Very nice!" she said, after a few moments. "Dwarven chainmaille. This should prove very helpful to our stout friend, if yesterday was any indication of what our new life of 'adventure' is going to be like." She scowled at Paget in mock anger. Bakbuk was already tossing aside his own battered chain shirt, and pulling Irontooth's treasure over his head. It was a snug fit, but the dwarf didn't care. The uncharacteristic glee on his face made even Raxil smile.

Realizing that Paget almost missed a critical piece of treasure, Phoebe took a second look into the chest. She reached in and pulled out the piece of tattered parchment that was stuck to the bottom. The cleric stared at it for several moments, and frowned deeply.

"A spy in Winterhaven. Grr... someone's up to no good. We need to get back to town and warn Lord Whatshisface about this! Maybe he knows who this Kalarel is, or something about the connection that Irontooth had with him, or Orcus." Phoebe was clearly agitated by the note, and she prattled on nervously for several more moments about the need for a speedy return, as she gathered the party's belongings and prepared to leave.

"But, what about that poor man?" Paget asked, quietly.

"What man?" The cleric was clearly preoccupied.

Raxil piped in and reminded Phoebe about what they learned from their goblin prisoner only the day before. "Don't forget, that guy that got kidnapped from the wagons. He sounds like he's in real trouble, if he's still alive!"

Phoebe's shoulders slumped.

"Raxil's right," Paget said. "If Irontooth's cronies, or Kalarel's, or Orcus... or whoever... went through the trouble of ambushing a caravan just to kidnap an archaeologist, he probably needs our help right away. He might not live long enough for us to return to town and call out the militia. That is, if Winterhaven even has a militia!"

She didn't like it, but Phoebe knew that her friends were right. "Okay then," she conceded. "Where's Raxil's map? Let's go find that archaeologist and rescue him so we can get back to Winterhaven. I need a bath like you wouldn't believe!"

Bakbuk sniffed the air near the cleric and chuckled to himself.

"What's his problem?" Phoebe asked, with a hint of irritation.

"Oh, I think he believes!" Raxil replied, and he and Paget quickly plunged through the waterfall and into the morning air, trying to stifle their fits of laughter.