The third week was when Gorton really started to stink.
The other Ghosts tried to put as much space as possible between them and the wizard, but the cramped cavern gave few options. The thin illumination provided by the blue crystalline moss on the ceiling showed dejected, tired faces and not much else.
After being seized by the Tyr-Elf Rangers they had been dumped in this small pocket of a cavern, and ignored. No threats were made, no trial was held – not a word had been spoken. Food and water were dropped in by a strange black cage that came down from a narrow hole in the ceiling. The adventurers had attempted a few times to break the chain, or gum up the mechanism in some way — with no success. Whatever material the metal was made of, it was fiendishly strong.
Their weapons confiscated, magic rendered inert by the stone walls of Iax — the Ghosts settled into despair and boredom. The spirit, Tetch, had spent several long days attempting to spook the Shadow Elves into opening the cell, or revealing some other helpful information — with no success. The phantom had finally given up, and departed the caverns in search of aid and rescue.
Gorton really smelled terrible.
Suddenly, the stone wall opened into a smooth hole. There was no mechanism, the wall simply opened. The Ghosts leapt to make an attempt at escape, catching a glimpse of dark-eyed rangers with glittering spears — before a dark figure was flung into the cell, colliding with the adventurers. They all fell down in a heap, watching as the stone wall closed — becoming as featureless as before.
The new prisoner dusted himself off, threw a hand through his gray hair and grinned.
“So.. I’m here to rescue you.” Simon said.