Connor laughed, saying "Thanks for the water, Flann."
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"Hm." Connor opined. With the wind still howling around them, he pulled out the burgundy leather scroll case out of his backpack. "This one, I assumed, was the 'alchemist's fire loaded with gunpowder' for the end of the mission." Connor told everyone. "But a jailer has keys on a keyring. What if I just hold this 'guide' in one hand and we try again?"
Holding the burgundy scrollcase in one hand and repeating the attempt results in the same result, the doorway flickers hesitantly and then collapses.
"Maybe the scroll itself boss, did it disappear into the sand? Let me look around."
Looking for the scroll:
"Oh. Right." Connor agreed, putting away the other scroll.
On a whim, not knowing why, Connor opens the burgundy scrollcase.
Anticlimactically, nothing happens when Connor opens the case.
Instead, there's just scroll inside.
McIntyre,
The key was lost a hundred years ago. You've got a guide though, your sneaky thief friend. She should also let you bypass the need for a key or she's not a very good thief. Make sure you have her in hand when you activate the archway. Once inside, proceed as quickly and safely as you can to cell 238. Do not release any other cells, no matter what they threaten or promise. Before releasing the entity in cell 238, require two wishes from them. The first wish is that they do everything they can to hinder Dargasium for the next year. You don't need to know who Dargasium is, just make sure that's the wish. For the other one, wish whatever you want as your payment, but be careful, the more you wish for, the more likely it is to get twisted around on you. The entity can't lie to you, but it doesn't have to tell you all the truth either.
It's signed 'Regent'
"Oh dear, that old bastard knew I was with you, even though I was hiding it. He's gotten better at this. I'll need to put some thought into that."
Connor read the scroll out loud to everyone.
"Um." Connor started, then put the scroll away before turning and looking at his compatriots. "I do have some godling-blessed lockpicks from a halfling underground city on the northern Surface continent." he began. "And," he nervously stated, running a hand through his hair in the strong desert winds, "Ikindofhadtomakeapromisetothelocalgodlingandshetalkstome."
Connor began again. "So! No key, but maybe we can bypass it. Let's all decide on the wish we get to share!" he said enthusiastically.
"I've always wished our ship was organic, so I could help fix it. Kind of defeats the purpose of our current repairs."
"Ooh, ooh, boss, boss. I thinks we wish Grimjaw die when we next meet. We could, should be easily able to overwhelm the crew without him. Then we get a sweet warship and complete our mission. We just need to find him again."
He rocks back and fourth proud of himself whistling his little tune hoping the others agree.
"Both of those sound...interesting." Connor said dubiously. "I'd hate to think of the steps necessary to get either to occur with-" he shuddered "-magic."
Connor got out his lockpicks. "Well, here goes nothing. I'll need some help, halfling goddess." he declared over the howl of the winds. He carefully felt the archway as if it was one gigantic lock with his tools, using detect psionics at the same time to sense any magical auras.
Dear, you need me in hand to make the door appear, while everyone else does the elemental stuff? Guide in hand? You really should pay attention to the words dear.
Trying to obey an ancient poem as well as a magical prison door's requirements is not exactly easy, Tenfa! Connor thought with a grin. We don't need additional favors here, I'm not sure I can afford more, we just could use a little...nudge.
"Can someone else do the fire this time?" Connor asked. "Volita, can you add energy attacks to your constructs yet? I've got my hands full."
Dear, of course, if you can use my picks to pick the non-existent door, without my input, then please go right ahead. Tenfa's voice is like the cat who not only ate the canary, but also stole the cream, and scratched the farmer's wife for daring to get upset. I'll just be quiet over here. In the meantime, if you change your mind, you might want to hold my gem up in one of your hands while they do the element thing, so the door appears and stabilizes, before you pick it. But only if you want to dear.
Once Connor holds his hand aloft, the other three see a diamond roughly the size of an apple in it, which begins to glow with a pale light.
As the other 3 get the fire and water symbols exposed to elements, the door that flickered before suddenly snaps into existence, as if it had simply forgotten it was real and suddenly remembered. Where before wind howled through the arch, the arch now blocks the wind and sand as if a shield had been erected.
As Connor then pokes at the door's key mechanism, the lock picks glow golden in his fingers, turning from simple steel to an almost liquid gold color. While they are too bright for any others to see what he does, Connor has no issues picking the rather archaic lock, the light from the tools simply illuminating his work for him.
With a grinding noise, the door splits down the center, and opens. The door way is solid black, and no light spills across it's opening in either direction. Light shone into it from Volita's lantern simply vanishes.
"Good job boss. Alright we have till sunup, no reason to dilly dally. I will take point."
Adran hops through.
Between pouring water for the arch, Flann stops to convert his rifle to its pistol form, loads it with pistol ammo, and tucks the case into his pack. He would have to clean out all the sand later. He takes position in the rear of the party, keeping an eye out for ambushes.
Stepping into the darkness is a chilling experience, literally. Adran steps through the darkness, no air to breath, and no heat, no sound except his own heart beat. No sensation at all, as if his body has ceased to exist, and only his mind was left. Except for the bitter cold, as if he were in the bitterest winter blizzard.
For as long as it takes to take three deep breaths, the utter void surrounds him. Then his foot comes down on something solid and he stumbles forward into blessed warmth. His face is covered with a thin layer of frost, as is his hair and clothes. As if whatever little moisture the desert had not already leached out of him had frozen.
Looking around, he finds himself in a ruined entry foyer, ten pillars in a circle around the entry way. Well, eight pillars and two collapsed pillars. Statues surround, although one is shattered. The entire area is layered with dust. In fact, there are piles of dust nearby, scattered around the remains of 3 creatures.
One large skeleton is obviously the body of a centaur, it's equipment hanging in rags upon it's bones. Off to the side, two more human skeletons lay on the floor in tattered remains of their clothes.
Gods have too many rules. Staying on their good side is too hard. he muttered.
"I don't think-" Connor started to say, before Adran beat him to entering the magical door. "-we have much time." he finished lamely. He put away the lockpicks and got out a sunrod from his backpack and activated it. "Everyone, manifest support as needed, but let's do as the second scroll says and ignore any distractions!"
Connor plunged into the blackness before him.
Connor comes through and has half a second to look around, when a construct slams into his back and knocks him forward several feet, barely staying on his feet.
Adran is similarly knocked forward by Volita as she comes through, nearly stepping on the skeleton! Before he can recover, a second construct steps through the doorway, and slams into Volita's back, sending her stumbling forward and slamming into Adran, who is sent stumbling forward into the skeleton of the centaur, which shatters and clatters!
Adran maintains his footing, but just barely. Then the last of the quartet steps through the door. . He slams into the construct, which slams into Connor, and knocks Connor forward.
Connor, looking around, also sees a cold iron mancatcher leaning against the pillar next to the statue that's reclined against the stairs.
Volita notices a finely crafted cold iron mancatcher leaning against the pillar next to the statue that's reclined against the stairs. She has an overwhelming compulsion to go pick the weapon up, and a compulsion to say nothing about doing so.
Flann eyes the skeletons. "We all know Sustenance, right? I don't relish the thought of an extended stay, but I much prefer we survive the possibility. I am not sure if I could manifest it over the network with three weeks' practice. I have never encountered the need... which is exciting, right?" Flann gives a shuddering sigh.
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"Alas, I never learned the art. Something about surviving on nothing save the Art seems a bridge I dare not cross. I wonder if those three skeletons had anything to do this remarkable statuary" Volita says, going closer and dragging a finger across the nearest statue. She circles around, examining each one.
As Volita walks around the pillars near the skeleton, she reaches out and picks something up. She freezes in place as she does so.
Blood is dripping down the shaft of the weapon Volita has in her hand, and she's gripping it in a white knuckled grip.
Everything around Volita goes black, much like stepping through the portal did, but without the cold. A woman with paper white skin and slightly pointed ears wearing a set of black leather armor walks closer and closer to Volita as she stands in the darkness. Despite the lack of light, the woman is perfectly visible, as if lit by invisible light. Well now, that took awhile. Volita Involo. You will do. I will provide you with information you require, and you will perform certain tasks for me. This is a valid exchange. You will also answer my questions, as I have been curious about your homeland for many many thousands of years. In exchange, I will grant you knowledge that you require as well. Do we have an agreement? The woman's voice is cold and emotionless, with no inflection at all.
Oh dear, that is not good...
Flann levels his pistol, squinting in the light of Connor's sunrod. He liked to think he was the kind of guy who could pull off a disarming shot, but he knows enough not to make the attempt. "Volita, I'll need you to put that down." Flann probes his network for Volita's state of health.
Focusing on her somatic nerves, Flann prepares to manifest Collapse in case things get violent.
The woman laughs, and suddenly thousands upon thousands upon thousands of bookshelves slam into place around them. They curve off into infinity, as if Volita were at the bottom of a globe and the book shelves formed a hedge maze on the inside of the globe. Mortal, I am The Bone Maiden. The Inquisitor. The Vampire Goddess. I am Kalvara, the Goddess of Knowledge, Blood and Death. An ornate silver rack appears with a black book on it. Read from the Book of Death, if you wish proof of my knowledge, little Mortal. You have touched my staff, your knowledge will be mine one way or the other, in this pathetically short life you have, or beyond life, I can wait for either. I am unsure you can though. This prison is a trap waiting to kill you and your allies. If you think the halfling thief can guide you through better than the Goddess of Knowledge, then feel free to refuse my pact. I'll see you shortly after your halfling leads you to your death. The woman's eyes are blood red, and looking into them makes one think of falling into a pool of ones own blood.
The woman's laughter is an act, she's not really amused. Nor is she angry, or upset. Indeed, she appears to be pretending to emotions that Volita would expect. As if an actor who doesn't quite understand the thing she's acting out.
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'Whoa whoa whoa. Who said anything about refusing?' she asked, trying to show a courage she didn't feel. 'Okay, yes, see? See all the books behind you? That's what I meant. I jsut needed to know that I'd actually get something out of this and wasn't just being sold a bill of goods, because, wow, you have no idea how hard it's been lately.
Okay, alright, sooooo....what exactly are you offering here? Are...do...will...will you put all -that- knowledge into my head? And all I have to do is tell you about my home?'
While Volita chats, she decides to take the lady up on her offer. She meanders closer to the black book and starts reading, unable to contain her curiosity.
No, you will require information. The voice cuts through the divine energy that is pushing through Volita's head from reading a book written in the blood of a goddess on flesh stripped from her own body. When you do, I will ask you questions in return, and after you die, eventually, you will come to live with me in my domain.
~Connor! I'm going to numb her muscles if she moves. She's dropped off the network, like a possession v-via cursed item. Connor?~ Flann will check on Connor and Adraniel's health as time permits. "P-put the knife down, Volita."
Oh, well, we start this by you keeping your friends from killing your body. At least, we should probably start there.
Volita finds herself back in her own body again, her hand aching pleasantly from gripping the spiked shaft of the mancatcher.
Volita suddenly turns to the group, her eyes now solid black. Her body snaps back into Flann's senses within the network.
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"Whoa! Flann! Why are you pointing a gun at me?
Anyway guys, I just had a conversation with the Goddess of Knowledge that keeps watch over this place. She says that we will need some answers here, and she's willing to help us! No need to thank me, I've got it under control.
Anyway, no sense in standing around, that wish isn't gonna grant itself," she says, starting for the stairs.
No, not good at all...
Flann lowers the pistol, but continues to watch for any sudden movements. "And the bleeding knife? Did your goddess grant you a boon of raspberry jam?" Flann laughs nervously.
Flann slowly and delicately moves out from between the moving to the other side of Connor and Adraniel. He's careful to only walk where the dust on the floor is already disturbed. "Not that I'm not enticed by a self-named god of knowledge, but the blood and the apparently sharp statue weapons are a little off-putting... Could she tell us the physiological trait responsible for the expression of manifesting abilities?" You can tell Flann seems exceedingly self-satisfied with this test, however rigorous it may be in practice.
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"Huh?" Volita mumbles at Flann's word-soup question. "Didn't all of you get to talk to her? Look, I can't really start to presume to know why a deity does something or doesn't do something. Perhaps she judged me a more worthy personality, maybe she was going to ask all of us until someone said we would help her, and she just got lucky on the first try. I can't say. But the important thing to focus on is that, if we need help, I've got the angel. Angle. Whatever. As for this thing, it's kinda old, I guess I cut myself. Doesn't hurt, tho, I'm okay.
Now do we wanna stand around looking into horse's mouth or can we get going? Please? Remember the whole trapped in here for long time thing?"
"What the-!" Connor exclaimed, followed by oaths as the train of people bump into him again and again.
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Flann eyes the skeletons. "We all know Sustenance, right?"
"I've got sustenance, I've been in situations like this before. I'm not proud of the reason, but it's been a boon." Connor admitted.
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"P-put the knife down, Volita."
"Volita, are you all right?" Connor said as the woman didn't look at them. "Flann," he began, but Volita interrupted him.
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"Anyway guys, I just had a conversation with the Goddess of Knowledge that keeps watch over this place."
"Another godling?" Connor spat, his voice between a question and a curse. "Adran! Watch your back!" he called out as Volita moved away.
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"Huh?" Volita mumbles at Flann's word-soup question. "Didn't all of you get to talk to her?"
"Hold on, Volita." Connor started, following her around the piles of leftover bones and dust. "I won't claim to be an expert in these things, but I have been to the Surface and yes, I had to make...concessions to a resident godling to get out of that underground city. It's not like having a psicrystal or a network. It's closer to the magic-word geas - you lose control of yourself. Your future. All of a sudden you owe a debt you might never be able to repay."
Connor looked at the mancatcher in Volita's hand. "Volita, there are reasons both arcane and divine can't live on the home-islands. Why we say we are safe from every archwizard, every dragon, every godling that tries to invade or conquer us." He began walking behind her, motioning for the others to follow. Keep an eye out, Hero. Connor commanded.
"Our isolation has protected us, Volita. From the gods and those who would be gods." Connor insisted, his voice low in the freezing cold of the prison. "Tell that to the godling in your head. Yes, they'll promise you things unimaginable. But there's always a price for mortals like us. So if you can, drop that thing in your hand and reject the bargain the godling makes. Soon. Or be prepared to have a moneylender counting the coins every second of your life from here on."
Really now. I think I've been quite patient and quite accommodating. I've neither forced you into a geas nor have I run you down for y our little mortal foibles. I've even been silent when you've made mistakes, because you are mortal, and you will learn more from mistakes than me preaching to you what to do. The voice sounds upset. It that's the way you feel... And the voice goes silent.
Typical man, threatened because he is no longer the special snowflake with a Divine Relic in his pocket.
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"Duly noted," Volita counters. "And rejected. And, I seem to recall some people, who very much resembled us, just got our ASSESS KICKED by a FLAME MURDER DEMON that was after you. So, um, how's that protection working out?
Hence, thanks for the warning, but ALL of us almost died because of your baggage, so your words don't automatically pave the way to safety. We're getting no pay for this because we have to blow a freeking wish just in the hopes that your bestest buddies will kill us slower, so, no, I'm not going to start relinquishing stuff I pick up just on your word.
Are you...jealous? Jealous that some powers choose me over you? That they didn't first come to the mighty mighty captain? That's...really the only explanation for your ego-centric viewpoint. Some people who really cared about me would just be happy that I got us an asset. You just assume that I'm dumb as rocks and don't know how to handle myself. Duly noted.
Now we can stand here debating semantics until that gate closes, trapping us here or we can get a move on. How 'bout it?"
'I know, right? -He's- the one with all the foibles and here is telling ME that 'Oooo, the big scaaaary thing that I didn't get must be bad!' Sheyeah. Right. Maybe if he had a few -less- voices in his head he'd be open to letting everyone else have something special. And -that-, ladies and gentlemen, is why I never want a psicrystal.'
I'm not ungrateful, Tenfa. Connor sent to the presence. Certainly you've protected me and my friends from death, many times. I wish I could pass the responsibility to a true halfling, someone who already knew you, but I'll keep my end of the bargains.
Watching Adran, and Art, as well as seeing your temple, I appreciate your mischievous nature. The trapped safe that made me wear a tail and colors for a week was annoying. But you've opened my eyes past my McIntyre clan of humans. I can't begrudge that.
So if you would continue being a spectator in this humble psion's life, then don't leave me. I'm...used to you being here, in my head. Connor repented.
Connor jerked his head back as if Volita had slapped him. "It's not jealousy. I would hope it's wisdom from past mistakes. And I've never called your abilities less than mine. But it's your choice." he snapped.
"Adran!" Connor called out in a loud whisper, motioning with his free hand behind him. "We need your eyes. Everyone, let's stay sharp and find 'cell 238'."
Cell 238? Interesting.
Flann crouches by one of the more intact skeletons try and identify the cause of death. He avoids touching or otherwise disturbing the bones.
Flann finds no sign of overt physical damage on the skeleton, meaning it was either soft tissue damage, or starvation.
"These unfortunate folk either starved or were stabbed gently in the back with statue-based weaponry. It does bode well that they have decomposed. There may be bugs and rats to eat. Good news for you, Volita."