After mopping up a few more of the strange wolf/spider hybrids, the party followed a rough trail back to the creatures’ lair. There they found a small stack of bodies, cocooned in spider-silk and ravaged by the wolves’ teeth. Investigation of the wolf bodies revealed that their brains were somehow deformed, almost as if the creatures were somehow being controlled. But by what?
Having no more information on the strange hybrids, the party continued on, crossing through the final tunnel and beginning down a series of switchbacks to the plains below. Halfway down, they found the wrecked remains of a small train. The first car contained crates of weapons and shields. The second, apparently a troop transport, held 20 shambling undead. The shamblers poured forth from the train car, swamping the party. Brass’s programming kicked in, and he made short work of several of the foul creatures, but the rest of the party quickly found themselves struggling for their lives. Suddenly, from around the front of the first car, a horrific monstrosity emerged. Multiple bodies, fused together by the same magical force that reanimated the dead, formed a staggering, grotesque creature. Brass charged forward to destroy the thing, a shambler grasping at his waist.
The rest of the party, Oron, Teodolf, and Zafar struggled against the shambler horde. Oron and Teodolf were able to hold the monsters at bay, but Zafar, already weakened from the spiders’ venom and without power to fuel his spells, suffered serious bites and rakes from the undead creatures. Fortunately, the hunters, Chait, and the captain soon appeared to lend a hand and turn the tide of the battle. Oron rushed to the aid of Brass and the two were able to fell the massive monster, while those of the party left standing dispatched the remaining zombies.
The next morning, rested somewhat from their ordeals the night before, the party searched the remainder of the train. Zafar found some small pieces of the magical engine that pulled the train, while Teodolf found the insignia of the soldiers that had died within so long ago.
Rested and armed, the group continued down the mountain and out onto the frigid plains, eventually finding themselves at the old dwarven city. A sign, rising out of a mound of bodies, bore one symbol: the dwarven rune for “cursed”.