Goblins and Wargs and Minotaurs, oh my!

The events leading up to how I actually arrived in Greenest were such that there was not really time to record what happened in the previous few days. I have done my best to, for posterity, note the events that transpired.
We had been caravanning down to Greenest with a number of merchants and others who, like us, were looking forward to attending the festival in Greenest. I’d spent so much time on the road now I feel as though I’ve forgotten much. It has been months since I left Luskan, but at least I know I am far from my former masters. Though our parting was amicable, they still give me the shivers when I think of them.
A few weeks ago some other travelers joined the caravan. Notably a Wood Elf who simply calls himself Rhumor, a half-orc named Groc, and a Celestial Cleric named Gawainel, who through no fault of his actions, makes me exceedingly uncomfortable. Whether through sheer boredom of the long journey, or the will of some unrevealed diety, we 4 have become strong acquaintances.
An attack. Swift, efficient, deadly. For reasons I cannot comprehend a band of Goblins has captured us. Yes, it makes sense they would attack. And yes, it makes sense they would plunder. It is beyond my understanding why they let us live once we were knocked unconscious by their magical potions. Likely I will never know. In any event, the 4 of us awoke in a strange place. Initially beginning to come to while still on some sort of moving platform that was lowering us into the earth, deep into the earth.
Just before regaining my faculties in full I watched as the platform, which we four had been removed from, rise back up and up and up – and then screams, followed by the platform along with a single goblin come crashing down. I can only guess at the dozens, or perhaps hundreds, of feet it must have fallen.
Now alone in a strange Antechamber, the four of us managed to free ourselves of our bonds and take stock of our situation. We are far too deep in the ground to hope of climbing out, and the ropes to the platform are not even within eyesight. The room we find ourselves in contains statues of surprisingly exquisite detail-clearly not the work of goblins. Depicted are 3 individuals that appear to have had some importance, though none of us have any idea who they are, or might have been.
As we carefully picked our route (the only route we have to choose at this point), through this underground structure, we encountered Goblins and a couple of Wargs. One of the rooms contained an elaborate alter of sorts, and a clearly magical in nature puzzle door. Once we had dispatched all of the goblin denizens who had squatted here, we were able to solve the puzzle and enter a new chamber which contained a most peculiar portal. We were greeted by Undead. Some unidentifiable guardians and skeletons attacked us. We were able to dispatch them with ease… But then came the Lich. I’ve seen some formidable foes in my time, but never anything that exuded such evil, such power. Fortunately for us the Lich seemed to think we were not worth its time, and it sicked its pet skeletal minotaur on us instead as it went back through the portal for, well, who knows what.
Here in this ritualistic chamber with a portal we fought. I stood at one end of the full room-length ritual table, with Rhumor opposite me. Groc and Gawainel faced off with the Minotaur directly. The Minotaur repeatedly striking down Groc to the ground, with the Cleric bringing him back each time. I sent forth the force the of eldritch blast over and over. Rhumor let fly arrow after arrow. Largely due to the sneaky angle which Rhumor brilliantly achieved, the skelatal minotaur fell. Gawainel rushed to remove the puzzle pieces that had opened the portal as the Lich screamed in defiance from afar.
Then, the entire underground complex began to tremble, and shake, and break apart. We four ran for the only other door in the ritual chamber. Upon using the puzzle pieces again we managed to reveal an impossibly long exit stair, and rushed as fast as we could up, except for Gawainel. He rushed back toward the portal. We know not if he faced off with the Lich, or if he perished under the falling rock and stone.
Upon breaching the surface – back into the forest with the sun nearly down, we see goblins fleeing in every direction. Looking about frantically a voice calls out. Not that of a goblin, or one of my companions, but that of a human man. A simple looking fellow who we came to know as Conrad, an archaeologist. With the setting sun we decided it would be best to camp for the night, and hope that Gawainel would emerge from the ruins by some miracle of his god. Rhumor and I kept watch through the night, but no cleric came forth.