Having dispatched the ghostly giants to their ghostly graves, the party continued down into the shadowdark, richer in spirit if not in material wealth.
Encountering tunnels most fiendishly bifid, the party at last remembered that they have a GODDAMN MAP, and hencewith or henceforth or henceways as the case may be made haste toward their mysterious objective deep in the underdark.
Fried chicken. Bloody Marys. That’s all I know.