The party descended the stairs into the ancient crypt with the smell of death, new and ancient, heavy in the air. As their torches illuminated the large room at the end of the staircase revealing torn remains and body parts of templars scattered across the floor and several large skeletal warriors whose socket-less gazes slowly turned to regard them. It was then on like Donkey Kong in a brutal donnybrook that had several of the party members dropping during the fight as they kept eating exploding skeletons during their death throws.
After re-grouping, the party moved into the next room which contained a large mural spanning the entirety of one wall. The mural depicted Shar and her sister Selune standing on opposing ends of the scene and between them swirled elemental chaos. Each held a small stone to their mouths and appeared to be blowing through each, as life and order was springing forth from each the stone to replace the fury of the chaos. In typical paranoid fashion, the party scoured every nook and cranny of that room looking for any kind of trap or bogeyman. Eventually they decided to move further into the crypt fully expecting to be waylaid from behind.
As they entered the final chamber they were greeted by the crypts ancient guardian, a member of ancient species long extinct, and his guardian construct. The party got a glimpse of a very Indiana Jones esq. type of artifact on the dais behind him. Khaine tried to sweet talk the Guardian into letting the party safeguard the artifact, but the guardian grew suspicious at his honeyed words. With that it began (note to DM self, solo controllers are meh), when the dust settled the party collected the loot and decided to rest up in the chamber before braving the heat of the desert.
When the party emerged from the beneath the sands they noted a dust cloud announcing the approach of a small group. They decided to hide and potentially ambush these interlopers. When the group arrived with a familiar and most hated face at the head in one assassin named Torrin the great debate began about whether to slink off with the artifact and complete their mission or lay some smack on that pompous dickface. Needles to say the battle was joined. It was quick and dirty (but in reality long and grindy) and the initial onslaught, despite the element of surprise, had the heroes wavering on the brink of disaster until a late rally and some tactical warfare started to shift the tide of battle. Sensing his eventual defeat, Torrin fled into the desert leaving the party to mop up the rest of baddies.
Beaten and exhausted, the heroes set off for Netheril to try and decipher the strange markings on the artifact……