Responding to a call from the lord of Brindol, Li’eck and Galadriel made their way along the road until they met the lord’s emissary, Grimbold, who vowed to escort them the remainder of the way. There quickly arose a dispute of filial allegiance among the two dwarves, yet Grimbold stayed true to his charge. It was fortunate that he did, for though the road was supposed to be a safe one the small party soon found themselves beset by a band of gnolls and hobgoblins bearing the sigil of the Red Hand. But the three were weary and were not taken by surprise. They Li’eck thrust his spear left and right, charging from one foe to the next; Grimbold was in the thick, staunch, indefatigable, and untouchable; Galadriel roused the spirits of the fighters while he taunted and mocked their enemies until they lost the will to fight.
The party quickly decided to track these foul beasts to their den so as to make the road safe once more and to learn why such dangers had penetrated so far into peaceful lands. In a cave by a waterfall they found their quarry. Li’eck held off those emerging from the gaping maw of the cave while Grimbold and Galadriel gibed at each other while they fought off bowmen and sharp-clawed fiends. Grimbold’s blood burned at the sight of his ancient enemy, and though he was pieced by many arrows, when the sun set he and the others stood proudly over a mound of corpses.
The next morning, once they had rested and regained their strength (though their spirits had never flagged), the journeyed deeper into the cave. There they found a lost, desecrated dwarven home. Grimbold’s heart ached at the thought of his people’s wounded pride, and even Galadriel, long estranged from his father’s race, felt the stirring in his blood to make clean for the dwarves what had been befouled. They found streams of unholy blood running inside the cavern, and when they found the first guardians of the accursed lair the party sent new streams of blood coursing down to stain the stones.
At last they found the leader of the wretched lot, a Bane of Tiamat, a coward of profane curses and villainous minions. Though the bane laid spell upon spell on all three of them, his sorceries were mere babblings compared to the power of Galadriel’s majestic, pure-voiced spells. Though the bane had intended to humble the three, they instead saw him die a thrall to their will, unable to resist and praising even his enemies with his last breath. His minions were soon scattered and the long-ruined halls cleansed, at least a little, at long last.
What will become of the once-accursed halls, the party does not know. But it will long be known as a place ruinous of, no longer by, the filth of gnoll and hobgoblin alike.
The party made their way to Brindol. Though delayed in their meeting with the town’s lord, they doubt he will be upset by their brief divergence.