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”Slip from free, surly bonds doused in mud. Been a son, stranger still. Stranger still, stranger stranger. Thrice I’ve died, twice I’ve seen. Straight as an arrow, defect defect. Once I’ve seen, Twice I’ve died. Could I please, touch touch touch…”
The allip continues to spew madness from its ghostly mouth. The subject seems to change frequently, with recurring themes running through the stream of consciousness babble. Nothing you hear gives a concrete clue as to how the poor soul died. The incessant monologue makes your head hurt.
Leaving the shoreline behind, you approach the ruined tower. The uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach grows more intense as you approach the building, but your cleansing of the unnatural forces at the island’s surface seems to have dulled the confusion effect which previously assailed you.
The tower has been laid in ruins by uncounted ages. A debris field gives evidence as to where the top levels of the tower fell; fragments of mortared stone stand in sharp contrast to the wind and wave worn rocks of the island. The wind whistles through the remaining stones with a shrill sound that somehow reminds you of a chorus of choir singers performing a wordless melody.
You edge into the ruins carefully, yet no foe rises to greet you. Whatever furnishings the rectangular building had are long decayed. The stone walls stand barren and stripped like the bones of a great sea creature, beached by the tide and picked clean by winged or crawling scavengers. Recessed slots show where eaves and joists once rose to a roof, and the level-scraped floor once must have been clad in timber. Surprisingly, no plants grow within the boundaries of the building – not even the hardy scrub grass and lichen that clings to any bare patch of the rocks outside.
A double door once guarded access to the tower itself, but now only a faint trace of brass patina on the stonework gives evidence of the hinges. The tower is also bare and unfurnished, with a broken spiral staircase ascending past the crumbling perimeter wall and grasping at the starless night sky above. You become aware of a sharp temperature drop – the air in here is easily ten degrees cooler than the surroundings.
A double hatch mounted at an angle against the tower wall provides access to a lower level. Unlike all the rest of the wood of the tower, the rough wooden doors remain intact, although badly bleached and weathered. A rusty latch is all that secures the doors in place. A heavy marble panel has been fitted into the wall above the cellar hatch, with irregularly spaced sockets cratering its otherwise smooth and polished surface.
A human skeleton sprawls face-up on the floor next to the cellar hatch. Multi-colored gemstones glitter from within its ribs. The skeleton’s jaw has been removed from its skull, and is grasped tightly in the outflung right hand of the remains. The pose suggests that this unfortunate individual consumed the gemstones before tearing off its own jaw and expiring. The gemstones look to be the correct size to fill the sockets of the heavy marble panel.
The wooden doors are not the true guardians of this passageway. After a drop of mere inches, the tunnel is blocked by a solid prism of stone that fits in the cellar gap perfectly. It does not move when pushed or struck.
Kivan begins examining the puzzle and the gemstones including their locations in the gullet.
"The best thing I can find is that there are four black gems and four corner stones. No other stone numbers four, so it might be the corner stones. That being said it might help to examine the area around us to see if any clues can be found. Also, we might find out more if we place stones in their places."
Kivan then works on his hypothesis on the corner stones by placing the four black gems there.
Seeing that the black gems are glowing with a yellow light Kivan places the yellow gems next on the marble panel although this time he doesn't create any sort of pattern with the yellow gems.
Idris doesn't have any knack for puzzles, so she stands back with her sword drawn, ready for trouble.
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ooc]Thanks Idris, I wasn't 100% sure how ability drain affected spells that could be cast, now I see it just affects the DC[/ooc]
Milo is relieved to hear Kivan's advice on the monster's attacks. His mind churns, like the surface of a lake stirred by the wind. Calm and still, he wills it. But the water seems to whisper back stranger still still still as it ripples. No. Calm, still water, Milo thinks. After a moment, the lake calms, and he feels more at peace, the taint of the monster banished.
Yet the hairs on the back of his neck raise a they near the ruined tower. He can't make heads or tails of the "pattern" in the stone or the gems scattered on the ground. "We'll find a way to cleanse this place, then there is no danger of this... thing... spreading closer to Haven. I'll look around for any clues, Kivan. I'll let you know what I find. " With that, he and Nix inspect the area around the gemstones and skeleton, the door blocking their way, and the rubble around the base of the tower for any hint of solving the puzzle.
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Pretty cannot help but to try to solve the puzzle too. Going by Kivan's logic she takes the three yellow stones off and put the red one right in the middle. If nothing happens, she starts placing the red stone in each of the holes, since being a single one would activate its part immediately, easily solving part of it.
Idris looks at the spots from her guardian position as Kivan is working. "That pattern is strange. Does it look familiar to anyone? Maybe a constellation or something?"
"Probably that or a holy symbol. It looks like a gauntlet to me, in which case the yellow or the purple ones would probably be to the right."
Pretty will try the 3 yellow ones and then the purple ones on the 3 holes to the right.
Seeing as how no yellow or purple gem has activated the side that Pretty was working on Kivan places two green gems in those sockets and removes any that don't activate and then replaces those areas with blue gems.
Seeing as this is not actually difficult to solve, the rogue and the wizard seek the place of the yellow gems, putting them in each hole at a time until they find in which spot they activate. Then they do this with the blue ones, purple and green ones, to finish solving that mystery. That is, if they did have all the gems to do that.
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Not all puzzles are meant to be difficult to solve. Some, perhaps most, guard and ward a restricted area against those who do not know the key to its completion. This one, however, serves mainly to lure the unwary into unwittingly scribing a certain sigil...
You spend many minutes methodically placing gemstones into holes. As you find the proper spot for each one, the sickly yellow radiance spreads. When the last gem is slotted into its proper place, disaster strikes.
The color of the gems are abruptly washed out by a blinding flash of yellow energy that burns a sickening glyph across your retinas. The skeleton on the floor twitches and flinches, and starts to mutter words out of its damaged skull. The jaw, still grasped in the skeleton's hand, pivots up and down as if still attached to the head from whence it was ripped.
Strange is the night where black stars rise,
And strange moons circle through the skies,
But stranger still is
Lost Carcosa
With a shuddering groan, the column blocking the cellar door free-falls down the chute, crashing with immense noise into some obstacle far below in darkness. Maggots and worms stream forth from the opening, spreading across the floor in a wet, twitching sprawl.
Something horrible rises from the cellar opening.
Idris gasps at what she sees.
"No... NO! What are you... Joanne! Bara! What... what..." and Idris doubles over, retching and groaning with nausea, her mind reeling with fear, betrayal and a profound sense of unworthiness.
Having searched the area and found nothing of interest, Milo and Nix return to Kivan and Pretty. Noticing that they've completed the puzzle anyway, he grins at the coincidence of his timing. But just as he's about to speak, the stones glow yellow and the skeleton animates.
The cellar door opens and Milo sees his shadow lengthen behind him. Did the sun finally come out from behind the clouds? he wonders. Turning around, he finds that a full moon is rising out of the cellar door. Puzzlement turns to discomfort as Milo looks up to see an alien sky above. It is a pale yellow, identical to the color of the glowing gemstones. Two suns are setting below the northern horizon, and to the south, black stars in strange constellations dot the pus-colored sky. Beginning to panic, Milo turns back to the cellar door. Now the moon is in the sky, yet it is somehow passing in front of the tower. A deep sense of wrongness fills him with dread. No matter what came in the world, Milo had always been able to count on the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. The cycle of the moon. The familiar constellations his father had taught him as a boy. "What... where..." Unable to reconcile this unnatural world with the one he knows, Milo is stupefied and disoriented by the sudden change.
Pretty was sure every place needed to be explored in the stolen lands. They saw a secret passage, and obviously it needed to be investigated, too. But of course, after today's trials she thought the protections were over for today, so she took no precautions and worked on the puzzle with the wizard, showing her intellect on the task.
But of course, nothing went as expected on this island, but she knew why. Now she knew, she realized that this wasn't the work of Xen. There was always someone pulling the strings, someone that now rose from that magic gate to haunt her once more, one that she would not call by its name. Her father. It was not the human father she saw once decades ago, but rather the real version of it, something she deep down knew was his true form. The humanoid figure had a reddish skin, almost the same as hers, and long twisted demonic horns coming out of his black hair. Instead of fingers he had claws, and leathery wings protruding from his back. "Finally you're strong enough to join us." His voice was grave and seductive, but she was even more scared when she saw the puppeteer holding the strings one his father. A shadowy demon, which had only one feature clear as day. Noleski's face.
Pretty knew this. Deep down she always knew, but still she couldn't make a move against the figure that threatened her. These were not mere cultists coming after her life, her heart. This was much more hideous. They were after her soul.
The rogue was strong. She would put up a fight. But then she looked at either side, to her companions. They were all on the ground, kneeling towards the diabolic presence. She felt this feeling before. Anger towards being betrayed. As Pretty drew a dagger one of the strings from the shadowy figure came and hold her hand tight, stopping the attack. Suddenly her father had a dark spiked whip on his hand, and in a second he had it coiled around her neck. Her tail brought another of her daggers to her hand, but try as she might the whip that hold her was indestructible, and it drained every willpower away from her, bringing something else to the surface, something she kept hidden and pretended it didn't exist. Her devil eyes shone red with the awakened evil, and suddenly all good in her had vanished. Now the tiefling was finally ready to join them. She always knew, there was no escaping from her fate.
As Kivan looked onto the cellar he recalls the very first monster he had to face. He remembered the true horror he had felt seeing a creature so outside of his experience with nature. Remembering the giant centipede only makes it worse as a giant three headed centipede monster looms out of the cellar looking down on the entire party. Even as Kivan watches its writhing feet and mandibles he feels disgusted as he seems to recognize its movements and clacking as speech.
Come closer little elf. Me and my friends only want to welcome you to your final fate. To be consumed by insects and vermin in a rotting grave. Come closer and let us put our mark on you.
Kivan looks around for help, but suddenly his allies are no longer there having abandoned him to this creature, and he recoils away from the monster's heads who's dark, soulless eyes seem to twinkle with amusement. Is that it? So much for a mighty and powerful wizard and his so called 'friends'. Now feel the horror of true helplessness and abandonment.
With startling swiftness the three heads rush forward and envelop Kivan's arms dragging them to the creature's center where the three heads begin to swarm around them and bite down. Kivan screams out in agony as the heads continue to ravage his arms tearing with deliberate and swift purpose. As he feels the presence receding. Kivan finds himself on the ground with his sleeves torn to shreds, and on each of his arms bites forming the shape of a centipede to constantly remind him of this day.
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Seraphina looked on as Pretty and Kivan worked the puzzle. At first she tried to think on what, if any image would be created by the gems, but like Maja, she could make no sense of it. So she stood by and gradually began to wonder if this was such a good idea...
The cellar door opened and began to expand outward like an enchanted pit, stretching toward them now as if it would yawn and swallow them all into it's wormy depths. They all floundered backward away as quickly as they might, but soon the inexplicable expanding halted and a massive horned head rose up on a long serpentine neck above them all. Seraphina froze in terrible recognition as she stood before the demonic Great Red Wyrm. "Ashardalon" Her lips spoke the name soundlessly, but the ancient dragon heard her all the same. "Yes, little one..." his colossal voice boomed, "It is I, but you called me by another name once."
Sera felt the world shift upon it's axis, and she turned helpless eyes upon her friends. Oh gods, no... Why does that voice sound familiar? She shuddered, resisting the thought, refusing to see. Suddenly they were surrounded on all sides by the cultists, still wearing their masks. They rushed her companions, piling upon them and wrestling their weapons from them and shoving gags in the spellcasters' mouths. Then the cultists were upon her as well, holding her still and forcing her to face the monstrous dragon, but she clenched her eyes shut, the only act of defiance she could muster. Tears had begun to stream down her cheeks for she knew she could wield no power that could harm this enemy. A sound like miles of scales sliding past each other at once caused her to open her eyes and she whimpered in fear as the great red wyrm was transforming, his shape resolving into humanoid form before her very eyes, a tragically familiar human form. The form of Glennwyn Medvyed. "You remember me now, my little Seraphina." He cooed gently with her father's voice and smiled sweetly at her with her father's handsome face. She sobbed with the grief of long years without him. It was like a knife in the belly to see him standing within arms reach, she ached to embrace him once more, but she refused to believe this lie.
Ashardalon did not give up the guise though. "So these are your friends? Not too impressive like this, are they? But if you like, you could keep one for a pet. Not the tiefling, of course, but then she'll be with you in other ways. Oh Sera, don't pout... I know it was cruel to fake my death, but you would never have grown into your powers without a push. Come now, you've only tasted what you can become. Show her boys!" The cultists then removed their masks and Sera gasped in shock at seeing her own brothers, living and deceased, pinning her companions to the ground, all of them with the angry scarring on their chests and all in some stage of growing to be just like the demonic red wyrm.
Shaken from her hopelessness and fear, the copper sorceress threw off those holding her and confronted the shape-taker, the sheer force of her anger fueling her disbelief. "My father was a good and noble man who fought to protect his family up unto his dying breath! His spirit hunts with my brothers in the wild forests of Elysium. He is not here, and neither are you."
The vision dissolved and Seraphina stood some distance away from the open cellar door, her cheeks still wet with tears. Her declaration had left a hollow feeling behind. Somehow it felt as if she had lost her father and brothers all over again. But at least her friends were alright... or were they?
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The evil influence grasping your minds recedes. Slowly, the nightmares that gripped you pan, tilt, and solarize out of phase with reality and the bleak, dreary tower ruins surround you with normality once more. Still, there’s an itch at the back of your throats that isn’t quite right.
The blinding yellow glare from the gemstone-studded mantle subsides, revealing a sigil burned into the stone.
The column blocking the cellar door has receded nearly completely into an alcove, allowing access down a steep shaft. A bore-hole has been carved deep into the island’s flesh, stretching many feet down into the darkness. The walls are rough-hewn from earth that quickly transitions to red clay. Veins of rich red iron oxide run through the clay like capillaries, and the walls are slick with moisture. Lowering yourself into the tunnel feels like being enveloped in an otherworldly maw. Rough iron bars have been hammered into the clay to provide hand- and footholds, but the dampness of the tunnel decreases the purchase your hands can get on them.
The hole’s depth looks to be about 100 feet – a heady fall, should you lose your grip. The hole ends in a chamber deep under the island.
This cavern differs from the hole above in that it appears to be a natural formation – the rectangular walls lack the rough mark of adze and pick, but are made from the same iron-rich clay and come together at sharp 90 degree angles. As you drop the last few feet into the cavern, your boots splash into knee-high water, crystal clear and achingly cold, and laying atop a solid granite floor.
The moldering remnants of a wooden chest lay thrown into a corner, rusted iron bands revealing the chest’s former shape. A series of iron cubbyholes built into the chest’s interior provide spaces for 23 fist-sized objects, but show damage caused by prying and hammering at the chest.
Bolts set in the wall indicate where heavy shelves once stood around the edges of the chamber, now long rotted. Scrape marks back and forth across the floor show the movement of large objects in times long past.
The sole exit from the room is a heavy, rectangular iron door set in the north wall. The massive portal must weigh eight hundred pounds or so, and is crusted with flaking rust. Visible hinges indicate that the door opens into this cavern. A metal rod bars the door and prevents it from opening, although seemingly without any brackets or method of support to hold it in place. An ornate lock, with scrollwork forming the same symbol as displayed on the mantle, once also secured the door. Age and moisture have reduced it to crumbling powder, however, and a solid rap with a hilt or such clears out the lock.
The room revealed past the massive iron door contrasts sharply with the red clay you’ve been descending through. Sixty feet long and forty wide, this room is carefully lined with immaculate white marble blocks, skillfully joined such that only a close inspection reveals seams between them. The room is utterly featureless aside from its occupants and another massive iron door set on the far end.
Six human skeletons occupy this chamber, slumped against the walls. All six are clad in leather-backed banded mail of an obsolete design that hangs loosely in the absence of flesh. A plumed helmet, steel kite shield, and longsword lay arranged neatly in front of each of the deceased, as do small piles of personal effects – a bone whistle, a bronze medallion, a pitted flask, and various other small items. The deaths of these six do not seem to have been violent; no skeleton exhibits trauma, and from their positions each lay or sat down near their final resting place and slumped in death.
One of the skeletons, clad in armor decorated with engravings, clutches a long-desiccated ink pen in one hand and a crumbling book in the other. Most of the entries in the book are decayed and unreadable, but with care you’re able to find one last legible page, written in an archaic form of Taldan.
Thus far have we come; we shall go no further. Ne’er again shall I feel the kiss of fresh air upon mine cheeks; I have found my grave whilst still drawing breath. T’was a fool’s errand that sent my squadron down this cultist’s rat-hole. We should have collapsed the entrance, razed the tower, and left with duty complete. I have always been too thorough in the prosecution of my duties, and I could not bear to leave a threat festering in this hall that is now my tomb. What I have seen I will not commit to paper; even now it tears at my mind. I have slain creatures which should not exist, and seen my men killed by same, only to rise again horribly transformed. I shut the book and doused the light, sacrificing the flesh of my sword-hand. Some of us made it from the chamber – perhaps half. I shut the door and barred it. Anyone left behind was doomed to perish anyhap, and far more important that the waters be contained. We were not the first out, and in the fog of our minds many minutes passed before our heads were clear and eyes freed from bedeviling visions. When we awoke from nightmare, this chamber was sealed as irrevocably as I had sealed the previous. I pray some of my men made it out, to tell the world of what has transpired here. Ourselves, we are the walking dead – fated to perish here as surely as the sun rises on a world we no longer can see. Tanath, the medic, possesses enough pain-killing herb to sleep us into dreamless sleep. I have ordered such an unkind dose prepared for each of us. I choose not to succumb to hunger and thirst, or to honor the madness beyond with cannibalism and painful starvation. It is small comfort, this, but a bittersweet vengeance can be gleaned by denying the King any further fruit of madness. I pray my family is told I perished bravely in battle, and after grieving can move on. If some madman finds this – flee. Flee now, and seal the chamber, and never speak a word of what you’ve seen, to anyone. For the Sahir Scouts – First to fight!
The door to the north is blocked by another rod like the door into this chamber, and is otherwise unlocked.
Pretty just stood there, silent as a shadow, for quite some time. She was thinking about what happened, although no one could actually tell it. She took a look down the hole but as even her darkvision could not see the bottom she threw a torch down on it, to see if there was an actual bottom to it. She pushed some pitons on the ground to secure the rope and make their descend safer, and volunteers to be the first down there, since she was not bad at climbing.
The rogue climbs down and waits very still for the others to come. They notice the 23 spaces, and Pretty immediately associates that with the gems from the previous puzzle. Whatever this place was, it was not nice. Still, they needed to explore it, and the rogue put herself right on that track, investigating the door.
"There's a button on this rod. Weird indeed. Can I press it?"
Idris looks white as a sheet when everyone comes to their senses, and has clearly thrown up her most recent meal. She insists she's fine, though, when anyone asks.
She'll suggest they use ropes to help those descending avoid a fall, and has a 50ft rope to contribute to the cause.
Kivan stands up and begins recovering from his vision. Looking over his clothing and seeing that he has no spell prepared to mend his clothing he just takes off his old robe and puts on the religious robes found in the last cultist abode. Pulling the simple robe over his head Kivan looks closely at the sigil formed in the rock Kivan pulls out his jornal and makes a note of the size, shape, and color of the sigil. Seeing the descent into the darkness below Kivan doesn't even attempt to ask others for help before casting Fly and floating down the shaft.
Looking over the room below Kivan doesn't find much of interest besides the door and the rod in front of the door. Using his detect magic spell and a little bit of magical deduction Kivan recognizes the immovable rod for what it is. "Yes, the button is harmless and will allow us to move this rod." After making sure the rod is out of his way Kivan opens the door and continues into the room beyond.
Kivan looks over the skeletons but finds nothing truly interesting until he examines the crumbling book by the ornately armored skeleton. Looking over the last pages Kivan finds himself unable to stop himself from trying to think of what such creatures might be and how they could be related to the sigil above.
Milo stands blinking for a few minutes, readjusting to his surroundings and looking around to assure himself that this is not yet another illusion. Seeing Kivan getting up from the ground and Idris's pale face, he wonders what they saw, but decides he doesn't want to know the answer. "Lead on, Pretty, we've got to get to the bottom of this," he says, attempting a joke as he waits for everyone to climb down the shaft. Once they've all gone, Milo ties his own rope around Nix's middle, secures it to what Idris and Pretty have put together, and uses it to lower her down the shaft. After the wolf is at the bottom of the cave, Milo climbs down himself.
Noticing the ancient skeletons and their archaic armor, Milo wonders just how long they've been rotting away in the sealed chamber. Whoever - or whatever - had built this tower had obviously done so long ago.
"I saw it," Milo says to Maja. "I think someone is trying to scare us away. But we need fix whatever is wrong with this place, before a person from Haven finds it, or something from this island starts to spread the madness."
Despite sounding intent on removing whatever is causing the evil visions, Milo knows he is out of his depth. A bow and arrows might not be enough to banish whatever evil lurks here. "If we find whatever the source of this evil is, do you know of a way to cleanse it?" he asks Maja and Kivan.
Seraphina shook off the vision and wiped the wetness from her cheeks with her hand, looking down at her fine robes. She was pleased to see that like her skin, the magical robes were impervious to her acidic tears. The bleak, shaken looks on some of her friends faces told her that they too had beheld nightmares of their own.
"Be steadfast, my friends. This place seeks to undermine from within. Do not give it a foothold, we will come through this yet, together."
She climbs down with the aid of the rope before Milo lowers Nix, standing by to ease the wolf out of her rope harness or to help catch her if she should fall. When she noticed Kivan has not repaired his own garments, she casts the mending cantrip he'd taught her, returning the favor that he had done for her in the past. She also continued refreshing her resistance spell upon herself and those who stayed near while they explored.
Once they were all safely down the shaft, she cast detect magic and began scanning the area. First she examined the ruined chest and then the remains of the men and their personal effects. Finally she looked to the door and the immovable rod that blocked it. After reading the journal entry, she pondered over what it said.
"I think it likely these men suffered the same sort of infectious hopelessness and nightmare visions as we have already faced. As such, we should take what he wrote in that context. They were locked in here by their own fellows, likely in the throes of their own terror driving them to doom themselves." She locked eyes with each of them in turn and then motioned for them to gather round her. "Listen to me now. I can see by your eyes, you reel as if from a blow recently dealt. I do not know what you saw, and I do not need to know. Suffice to say I know whatever it was, it was a terrible lie! The perfect weapon to inflict you with the fear and despair required to drive you to destroy yourself. But we all must steel ourselves lest we share in the fate of these men. I think Milo has the right of it, something is trying to send us running, but we cannot allow a threat to exist this close to our lands. You are not alone, your friends surround you, we will defend each other and we will prevail and we will leave this place as we arrived. Intact and together, no matter what this place shows you! That's an order." She finished with wink and reached out to grasp each of their hands in turn. Giving Nix a reassuring pat instead.
Pretty pushed the button of the first immovable rod and opened the door to the room with the bodies, but she was getting more and more anxious with the things they encountered, and that was before the journal. It was definitely scary. The rogue was always one to react instead of getting scared, but she could not fight this threat. Thrice has she been shown how weak she was, and that's only the effect of the outer waves that this monstrosity generates. Who could tell what was inside? No one. And definitely not Sera, who just gave a speech to encourage them. Pretty took a step back, withdrawing her hand from Sera's reassuring touch.
"...by denying the King any further fruit of madness..." She repeated the words from the diary aloud, to no one in particular. No one could say Pretty was wise enough to make the right choices in her life, but at least she was clever, and she connected the dots the others didn't, or so she thought. The tiefling was mostly talking to herself, but the others could hear pretty well what she was saying. "This land is fine, isn't it? We came here and found some minor bandits, but nothing actually serious that prevented us from settling and growing strong. Yet everywhere we went there were the remains of a long dead society, weren't there? We never knew what happened," - she shakes her head - "and probably never will."
"Yet here we stand, probably one door away from the answers we seek, but only a mad king, or queen, would open that door. Want me to tell you what happened here?" She's looking at Sera. "They found the devil in that room, and it sent them chasing each other's shadows." She touches the hilt of her now dented weapon. "Three times this place has tested my strength. Thrice I've failed. So let me tell you what will come next. If we open this, I'm gonna be the one who runs and lock the door behind you, so this evil can never escape. I'll be the one to remove the gems and eat them, so no one can enter this tomb again. And I don't want your blood in my hands, nor the one from this good folk who live around here. You will be better off without me, and I would rather take my chances against my devil father than opening that door."
"You said that was an order?" She takes the immovable rod and presses the button right in front of her, leaving it floating there so they know she wouldn't use it to lock the door. "Then it's going to be the first and last." Without a second thought, she turns around and walks back the way they came, ready to climb out of this hell and get out of this island.
Kivan takes the immovable rod and presses the button storing the object in his bag before moving forward to speak with Pretty.
"Look I know that you're scared because this place scares you and you want to turn back, but unfortunately we don't have much of a choice. This place is already open and we have already seen that spirit that seems to be enticing people here with visions of madness. I don't think that spirit will just let this place lie untouched. The lizardmen raft we took also might mean that the lizardmen will come and investigate. Regardless, someone besides us will come here and investigate eventually. The only thing we can do now is move forward and hope to destroy this evil. I don't like exploring this place as much as you do, but it's too late now we've solved the puzzle and we either destroy the evil now or wait for it to get free, gain power, amass followers, and be forced to destroy it then."
Pretty stops for just a second to turn and reply to Kivan. "Whatever is locked in here, has been for ages. It will certainly wait until we investigate about the names we now wait, and are strong enough to deal with it. Unless you think yourself stronger than this place? Then please go ahead oh mighty Stag-Elf-Lord... Release the beast and slay it within a heartbeat! Don't worry if another wave of sorrow paralyzes you again and leaves you helpless for a couple of minutes, the monster wouldn't dare touch you, of course." She shakes her head, turns to the exit tunnel and resumes her departure.
"I don't believe myself stronger than this place. I have seen this place defeat me once before and I'm sure it can do so again. It may paralyze me with fear for the monsters inside to consume me, but I don't stand alone." Kivan motions towards everyone else in the party. "I have allies who will stand with me and cover me when I falter and I shall cover them when they falter. I know that by myself I am weak. I need others to even have a hope of survival, but that's what I keep my faith in. I have faith in my fellows who have stood with me against humans, monsters, and worse."
She doesn't even turn around this time. "Unless that ally is me and I kill you. You remember the allips, don't you?"
"I don't recall you trying to kill me at any time during the allip fight, and besides as I said before I shall be there for any of my allies should they falter. If you falter ahead then I will be there for you Pretty."
Milo takes heart in Seraphina's brave words. Kivan was exactly right, too. Now that they'd killed the allips and dissipated the evil aura on the island shore, that was one less thing stopping people from coming to here. And then they'd opened the gem door, they'd destroyed another barrier keeping innocent people out, and the insanity in. Milo remembers when he first met Pretty, along with everyone else just a few months ago. They'd cooked supper together and settled down for the night, until she'd been abducted while everyone slept.
Calling out to her as she goes, Milo's voice is harsh, angry that whatever is haunting this place is somehow dividing them up against one another through fear. "Pretty, do you remember when we first met? Did you fail when the cultists captured you? Did you fail when they took away your weapons and tools? What about when they locked you in a cell? Three times, you failed. But did you wait in your cell for them to sacrifice you, or run away at your first chance? No! With your own cunning, you escaped without a scratch, freed the other prisoners they'd captured, and destroyed every single one of them."
Milo's voice softens, and he adds "I hate to admit it, but I wish I didn't insist on exploring the island. But now, we've opened the place up. Maybe something is sealed up in here. We've broken some of the seals, and now we have to finish what we've started before it gets out or someone else comes in. Whatever is here on this island wants you to leave us. It wants to separate us, so it can have an easier time. Do you want to play right into its hands?"
"Pretty, Sera's our leader, she's just trying to help us bolster our spirits. Please, you're our friend and we trust and believe in you. The only way we'll get through this is together."
The rogue turns and crosses her arms to argue with Milo, sometimes screaming at him. "If I'm alive so far it's because I CAN THINK! Pay attention around you, Milo! What do you see? Were you ok with the trap at the door? Did you feel nothing on it? If someone LOCKED something down here and build a trap with that much power, why do you think they didn't kill whatever is behind that door? Yes, because they COULDN'T!! They weren't powerful enough, and neither are we, as we couldn't even realize that trap existed!" Her voice softens as well, but not much. "Nothing is forcing me to leave you. I don't want that too, but what we're doing here is stupid, and I've learned being stupid kills you! How many died in here already? Have you counted how many men did the Sahir Scouts had? I see six bodies in here, plus the ones who escaped, and double that number that were left behind, so what, 20 men? 40?"
She looks at Sera. "Have you stopped to think what would happen to your good folk if we perish down here, Leader? Would they ever know what happened? Would they survive whatever leaves this place? They will have no idea of what's coming! You're making the same mistake that guy did!" She points to the skeleton that was holding the book some time ago. Her voice is dead serious when she tries to repeat what was written there. "I have always been too thorough in the prosecution of my duties, and I could not leave a threat festering in this hall! So now I'm freaking dead!"
Even from Kivan she once more tries to seek help. "Wizards usually say that knowledge is power, and right now you have NO power against what's behind that door, do you? Why don't you tell us something about this place so we can prepare ourselves better? Do you really wanna go in there blind as you are right now?"
She points at herself. "Now you say I am the one playing right into its hands? Are you out of your mind? A guy leaves a journal explaining how freaking powerful something is and you want to completely ignore its advice and do it either way? What, do you think whatever is in there wrote that diary, by any chance? To trick us to leave it locked for eternity?"
Pretty opens her arms, outraged. "Since when do you seek death so eagerly guys? What would happen if we had tried our luck with the Stag Lord as soon as we learned about him?! We were smart enough to battle the guy when we had more experience and knowledge about it, and the world didn't fell apart because we waited a couple of weeks longer. What's to say of this place, that probably stood untouched for ages? I'm sure that trap up there can be reactivated if we try it. We have names, information, and finally some clue of what happened here. We have a chance. Let's go back, study about these place, this squadron, even this damned book for gods's sake!"
Finally Pretty looks at the priest, trying to get some help from her. "Common Maja, you said yourself that perhaps we should heed this man's advice! And please don't agree with Sera just because she's the leader Idris, tell them how you feel about this!!"
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Kivan wracks his brain, sorting through neatly categorized memories of his studies. Oh, the long hours of paging through heavy, aged tomes made even weightier by the dense knowledge they contained, the preserved knowledge of so many scholars' lives laid out like a succulent feast that could barely dent the ravenous hunger for knowledge. Yet, no mention of this sign comes to mind. Whatever it portends lies fully outside the knowledge collected in Brevoy.
Seraphina's detect magic does not reveal any auras coming from the door. However, such a weighty portal would likely block such detection - iron in sufficient thickness is known to stop divination, and a layer of lead ensconced within could also block your arcane perception.
No sound whatsoever is apparent through the door.
Maja's investigation turns up no signs that something fled the hidden chambers while the illusions played with your senses. The only footprints match the boots of your party and the paws of one wolf.
Sera was surprised as Pretty pulled away from her and the hurt was clear on her face for a moment before she rearranged her expression. She doesn't believe in me... doesn't trust me... It was a terrible realization, perhaps more shaking than anything she had seen so far. She was their leader, in title, but if she did not have the trust of these, her closest comrades, she was nothing more than an empty figurehead. She swallowed against the lump rising in her throat and did her best to listen to Pretty's panicked reasoning.
"You are right, Pretty. We do not yet know what lies behind the door. We are explorers in these lands and the strongest of our people. Sometimes that means we must go forward into the unknown. You believe this unfortunate man's cryptic warning is all the evidence we need to heed his advice and flee for our lives. But please, calm yourself and let us examine the problem again. I have seen a pattern here. This place exudes some sort of magical aura of fear and despair... every body we have encountered has perished at their own hands! Even I was afflicted with a vision that pushed me toward taking my own life. Given this evidence, I think these poor men succumbed to the visions and were undone by them. As such, we cannot take their warning at face value. There might be something terrible and monstrous behind that door, waiting to be freed, but if it were something with a will of it's own and strength to destroy any mortal... would it not be enticing us forward rather than crippling any who came near with fear and despair? I suspect there might be a creature with a fearful aura or perhaps merely an artifact of an obscure deity. How terrible would it be if these men had only to mistrust their fears and press onward to achieve their goal and freedom? How many people might have been saved that found these shores by mistake and destroyed themselves?"
At last she gave a relenting sigh. "We will proceed together, or not at all. It saddens me that you do not trust my judgement. I would sooner be flayed by your blades than fail to protect you, even from yourself. But I cannot replace your doubt with my faith. Let us gather what further information we can and we will do some research before we return better prepared. Kivan, what can we do to secure this place before we leave? If we take one of the gems with us, would that prevent any further entry if the entrance can reseal itself?"
Pretty feels sorry for making Sera seem so down, but the rogue had something the leader didn't seem to. Fear. "Yes I'm afraid of this place, and I'm not ashamed by it. If I'm alive today was because I accepted fear. I've heed its warnings and ran away several times. I've survived to tell the tale. But all I hear from you guys is hey I will save you, even from yourself, everything will be fine! I appreciate it, guys, I really do." She shrugs. "It's more than I ever had. But that's precisely why I'm not in the mood to face certain death so soon. I don't think that you're misjudging it, Sera. I think that's not judging the conditions but rather being too thorough in the prosecution of one's duties..." - she points at the skeleton leader - "like that guy was. Holy lords I can picture you writing that very same page! But of course, everything will be fine, as the beautiful fairy tales! A happy ending!"
"Thanks for stopping to listen to me. I hope I've not disappointed you guys, but you know we're not much alike." She looks through Sera's eyes. "You've never really felt what despair is like, have you?"