Stupid monk, yeah sure just walk along the tracks and we'll find something. Ooooh giant acidic dirtboring wormholes, how exciting. Now we follow the damned wormholes to an underground river. I think we've walked so far we could pop out from under some winecellar in Kurth. I can only hope that the dinky little island in the middle of that underground river is in fact Shaundical's Chair and we are on the right track. My feet hurt, I haven't bathed in three days, my hair is disgusting and oh goody we found some ancient ruins of a city that has been overrun by a lava flow. Can it get any better? Well at least we are out of the stupid wormholes. More walking and Great Gond we finally come to an opening! The opening is magical or alive or something because it keeps trying to close up when anyone with a light source comes near it. The cave mouth dumps us out into a frozen plateau that could easily be a frozen over lake offering an icy demise or worse, but not very far off we see smoke coming from the chimney of a building and so with a varying amount of precaution we all traverse the area toward the building. Good thing we were warned about being prepared for travel into colder climates because right now I'd really feel much more comfortable back in the Calashite burial tomb right now. These furry boots are great and the warmth from the fur lined armor is wonderful but the frigid air is making my nose run and I think I'm getting a headache from squinting too much. Now even with hindsight being what it is I still do not know how we could have lost 4 days by being inside the doors of the Passionhall, I had barely enough time to bathe, eat and drink, enjoy the practiced hands of a wonderful massage and return the favors of pleasure that only another woman could exact so effortlessly. I didn't even have time to wring my hair dry before Pavel got all stirred up and insisted that we leave immediately. No, we could not have lost 4 days in there, 4 days in those stupid tunnels maybe, but not 4 days in the Passionhall. Moronic cleric must have hit his head or misjudged the phase the last time he saw the moon. So now with time squandered we scout our surroundings, and oh lovely, some of our band of dolts want to build a fire. Why that hyperactive blackblade passed out and why I volunteered to carry him is beyond me. I probably couldn't get a slave merchant to give me 5 silvers for the lot. I've noticed that Corim seems unaffected by temperature, rather drastically so, I can only guess that his demon blood and scaly back offer him benefit of that like a lizard, well maybe I could get 10 silvers for lot. Pavel awoke us rather abruptly and somehow Skippy managed to get himself kidnapped, hmm... back down to 8 silvers, but luckily we could follow the tracks and it leads us the edge of another orc encampment. Cripes, they are everywhere! While we were trying to evaluate our position, we happened across a guard which I tried to take out with a throat shot but missed, Mithinu proved a bit of battle awareness and already had a spell prepared for that possibility. Right about then the encampment burst with activity and with our group scattered I rushed forward to destroy the orcs armory, while most of the rest of us, at least the ones I could see, focused on the commander's tent. With battle and confusion still erupting from the encampment we succeeding in recovering Lief and retreated into a wooded glen. Swift movement and thinking kept us from facing a vast numbers of orcs, ogres and their likes, but one, at least the voice of one, kept pace with us. Stepping from invisibility, their leader in a beautiful act of honor, congratulated us and wanted to meet the force that struck so swiftly and so practiced upon his encampment. I have never heard of an orc, or in this case an orog with such honor. King Kuldermog, an old line orog ruler trapped in what he called a prison stone for several hundred years. Being in solitude for that long must teach someone a lesson about patience and honor that I can only imagine.