In the ancient Palace of the Ki-Rin, Fuema cast a brief teleportation circle spell to send the party on their way. It took them to a circle within a knot high up in the boughs of the great Oak tree that towers over Wukeiwang, from which they descended carefully.
They sought out Lónghua, surprising her by their swift return and relating to her what they had learned that they couldn’t fit in their previous magical message. Then, they promptly implored her to allow them to make use of the symbolic Arrow of the Pact to signal their need for aid to the Iorvethen. Lónghua had misgivings trusting the defense of imperial citizens to a group of near total strangers, but the party quickly made it clear to her that her misgivings were nothing against the certain death that was the alternative.
The party fired the arrow into the air and received three dozen replies.
Gremoira appeared shortly thereafter, and the party convinced him, too, that the Iorvethen had as much skin in this game as Wukeiwang. Gremoira laid out a battle plan whereby Wukeiwang’s somewhat fortified north gate would be the bait to draw the wights in so the Iorvethen light infantry could flank and rout them.
The party manned the north walls in the ensuing battle, cutting down wave after wave of the undead and fending off several of its more grotesque number, including a pair of enormous, rotted tigers with deathly gazes. When all was finished, the party, the citizens of Wukeiwang, and the Iorvethen shared in a decisive victory.
But there was no sign of the Mandarin-Wight that they believed to be commanding this invading army. Not until the party felt its presence, pulling on the chains that bind them, off to the east, in the dwarven ruins that hide the entrance to Durad-Om.
Feeling the chains pulling against their hearts and fearing the worst, the party raced to Durad-Om in the pre-dawn darkness, taking a small band of Iorvethen soldiers with them. They delved into the eastern ruins, opened the portal to the underworld, and jumped in, where they were confronted by Hialathar, the watchful guardian of the ancient city. Only, Hialathar had been killed, and his body animated.
The wretched undead creature was able to cast quite frightful magic using the reflexes left in Hialathar’s body, but ultimately was slain in a hail of arrows and a decisive charge by the party’s close-range fighters. The sanctuary is now empty, and the party is anxious to know what comes next.
The party rushed through Durad-Om, navigating by Louie and Danai’s memories of the ancient city to return to the Tomb of Tormus-Iliath. There, they discovered a massive shadow being conjured by their nemesis, the Dragonborn-Wight. The shadow was corporeal enough to harm, and the winds swirled. The mortals fought bravely, and the Dragonborn-Wight was downed, only to unleash the demon that had been inhabiting the body.
Yente bound the demon with her magic, and then released it into the party’s waiting ambush. The demon fell under their blades, and Tormus-Iliath was put back to rest.