"Each cylinder might be enough for two people, so now that we have three cylinders, we could all give it a try."
The warrior still being wary of magic, especially never-used magic items, was more than happy to let someone else endeavor to make use of the green cylinder.
The warrior kept glancing down at his new breastplate, admiring its artful design and craftsmanship. After a few minutes of indulging this pastime, he went back out into the hallway, eager to explore the rest of this layer of the Emerald Spire.
With, apparently, enough of the strange glass cylinders to transport the entire group, there is only one thing missing… for it to function, the bearer of the cylinder must be physically touching the spire – and, so far, the friends have not found where (or even if) this haven of Kra’okath touches the enormous crystal structure. With no other option available, the friends resort to walking back through the troglodytes’ rooms and, getting scorched once more, past the rack of candles…
Making their way back to Klarkosh’s chambers in the level above, the friends find themselves able to recuperate in relative comfort – the gentle ticking of the clockwork maze proves to be quite melodic and, unmolested by the div that had been allowed to escape, sleep is easy to come by. The following day, although whether it is actually day or night is impossible to tell, the friends prepare themselves and, once more descend… arriving in the room with the still-burning candles…
"We might as well check in on Royst while we're in town, and give him the latest map we've completed."
Rallos sneaks ahead of the rest of the group, checking the room beyond the bend for threats.
Forging past the candles, and doing their best to avoid the worst of it when they inevitably flare, the friends move through the troglodytes' room and continue their exploration.
The corridor beyond the forge leads southwards for around a hundred feet - past an iron door in the eastern wall - before turning to the west and arriving a chamber full of statuary.
In the center of the room is a basalt statue of a serpentine figure, its head wreathed in flickering flame. A dozen smaller statues are clustered on the floor. These depict a different serpentine figure, but all the heads have been chopped off. A pathway through the statuary leads to double doors on the north wall.
Gray entered the statue-filled room after Rallos' first inspection. The ones with their heads cut off seemed very odd but without more information as to why, there was nothing for it.
The fighter took a few moments to walk around and inspect the flickering flaming statue and nearby headless statues.
He stood awaiting his more attentive friends to make heads or tails of this place.
Grayface sees more than Rallos... He sees the misalignment of the bricks, the subtle difference in the bricks and finally the hint of footprints in the dust...
Good eye, Gray. I guess I missed that....must have had dust in my eye... Rallos grins at his missing the door.
"Yeah, must be the dust." Grayface laughed for a moment at the rogue's expense, then said, "Well, go ahead and do the honors. Any traps on it? Everyone, be prepared for battle. Whoever normally uses this secret door will likely not take kindly to our usage when we arrive on the other side."
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Murassa slepted restlessly, tossing and turning on his little piece of the floor. The Spire seemed to dwell in his mind, bringing up memories of his time in slavery. Shaking his head to dispell half-formed thoughts, he stood up and greeted his fellow adventurers, mentally preparing himself for the day ahead.
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The candles were a problem, and unfortunately the nightmares seemed to have left him sluggish and unable to avoid the majority of the flames. "I really hate fire," he said with a frown as they descended down the hallway. "I much prefer lightning."
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As they entered the room, Murassa looked around, mildly surprised that the one-eyed fighter was able to find the hidden door before their more stealthy comrade. "Congratulations on the find, Greyface," he said with a grin. "By the way, is that actually your name? If so, your parents were rather odd, no offense intended. Of course, it could just be a nickname picked up in your no doubt long history..." With that, Murassa left off, mumbling to himself as he debated the various merits of nicknames and actual names before seemingly coming to himself with a shake. "Ah, sorry about that, I tend to get caught up in various thoughts at times. You can just ignore my question if you want." Turning to the rather lovely cleric, he added, "By the way, any chance in a bit of healing? I know a few of us had a tough time with that candle trap."
The jovial mood vanished from Gray's gray face when the magus asked about his name. It was as if a mask was torn from his head revealing the true angry underside. His next words sounded out from behind clenched teeth.
"I never knew any parents."
He breathed in deeply through flared nostrils, taking a moment calm his inner rage. He wasn't upset at Murassa; he was upset at the hand life had dealt him. That old demon was usually kept under lock and key but from time to time it would make an escape from the fighter's inner stockade. Once again throwing shackles on the demon, he more calmly elaborated on the tale of his early life.
"Slavery was all I knew until I was a young man. One day a lordmaster mutilated my eye and tried to have his way with me, so I put a knife in his throat and cut down everyone else who got in my way as I made my escape. The day of my liberation. Some time later a bar fly I used to know called me "gray face" because of my scarred good looks. As I never had a name, it stuck."
Rallos carefully approaches the door and checks for traps.
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Murassa gave a small bow of apology. "I'm sorry for bringing up any unpleasant memories, it was not my intention," he said, hoping that this wouldn't cause any problems between the two of them. "I am familiar with that particular chain, though I was fortunate enough to belong to rather strict but fair man."
Ea looks a bit silly in Greyface big and battered old armor, but as usual she doesn't show any emotion
I'll heal our wounds before we continue. May Fate favor us. Rallos, you should do something about that magical fiery trap, if you can.
After Rallos has confirmed there are no traps, he feels around for the latching mechanism that opens the door... finding a block that has some 'play' in it, he pushes it gently... and, as a single block, the bricks open to reveal a passage heading off to the west...
...and bending to the north before arriving at a heavy wooden door. A speculative examination of the door reveals that it is locked.
Rallos works on the lock quickly.
Confident he has defeated the lock, he nods to his friends to be ready. He holds a finger up to his lips for them to be quiet as he stealthily opens the door.
The locks on the door, embellished with imagery of serpents, opens beneath Rallos' expert hands... and, silently pushing the door open, the friends discover the inner chambers of whoever dwells on this level of the spire...
This room is an octagon with a middle section sunken down a foot. In the center are a desk and chair surrounded by four candelabras. To the west, the walls are lined with bookshelves, to the north, a bed rests against the wall and to the east are two basalt statues whose heads are wreathed in fire - a similar effect to that which was surrounding the previous statues...
Sat at the desk, looking up as the door opens, a serpentfolk - dressed in elegant black robes - looks up and hisses, “You have come here for one of two things: to join me in the adulation of Kro’akoth the Awakener or to die. Which is it?”
Cold black eyes stare at Rallos as the serpent awaits his answer...
Gray knew there was little point in bluffing. He had no skill at it and they wouldn't be believed anyway, sneaking up like they were. Sensing the inevitable, he tensed for combat.
Rallos looks back to the rest of the group and says quietly
No surprise here...this might get ugly fast.
He then looks at Gray and nods.
Ready?
Yasmin too prepares for combat at the words of the serpent.
Snakes... why did it have to be snakes?
Sister Zalinsel studies her foe, and start praying to Pharasma
The serpentfolk, setting down it’s tome, stands and addresses the friends once more, ”You have travelled into the depths where sunlight is naught but whispers and dream… Why? Why are you here? Tell me, have you come to offer praise to the Awakener, have you come to hear his prophecy or are you here for some other purpose?” Asking its questions in a voice full of sibilants, it strides towards a shelf of books along the eastern wall.
Serpentfolk are 6 feet tall and weigh 120 pounds. Degenerates are only 5 feet tall but weigh 200 pounds. All serpentfolk are quite long-lived, and generally live to the age of 500.
The fighter nudged the two guys next to him, urging them to respond, for he knew he had little in the way of verbal finesse.
Surprised at having not been attacked yet, Yasmin will approach and speak. "We're explorers, seeking to learn more about the Emerald Spire. I promise you, we haven't come here to die, although we met some troglodytes who tried to kill us."
"Who are you? Are you a priest of the Awakener? What is his prophecy that you speak of?"
Rallos whispers to Gray.
Maybe we can glean some information from him before things sour....be at the ready nonetheless.
The robed serpentfolk, tongue flicking in the air as it listens to Yasmin, runs a hand along a shelf heavily laden with books, ”Explorers you say? Then you have encountered much on your journey to the Shrine of the Awakener… The metal-clad heretic above us – does he yet live? Hmmmm, who am I? I am titled Sartoss and I serve the Kro’akoth… he who will rise up and free the serpentfolk from the false teachings of Ydersius… he who will return our civilisation to its time of glory… he who grants power to those who are deserved of it”
Just visible within the folds of the serpentfolk’s robes, Sartoss is wearing two swords upon a belt… ”You say you encountered troglodytes? Pray tell… where was this?”
By "Metal clad heretic" I guess you mean the one named Klarkosh?
Ea was wary of any treachery, but she's already lacking any empathy with humans.. a serpentfolk's face is a nightmare to read.
Just visible within the folds of the serpentfolk’s robes, Sartoss is wearing two swords upon a belt… ”You say you encountered troglodytes? Pray tell… where was this?”
"Klarkosh is dead by our hands. He was volatile and aggressive. He sent his metal soldiers to attack us. The decision to remove his head was easy."
Afraid of answering the serpent's question about the trogs for fear that it would upset him, Grayface opted against acknowledging the query.
Gray noticed the arc-shaped scratchings that likely indicated another secret door or compartment. He wondered briefly where it might lead, or if the serpentman might attempt to use it as a means of escape.
The fighter had absolutely no reason to trust the motives of this creature, considering the behavior of every other scaled living being he'd met thus far, in particular on this level of the Emerald Spire dungeon. He kept his wits about him, looking for any hints of deception or readiness to attack or flee.
"Might we come in for a bit? It has been a long journey."
Grayface walks into the room.
"Come in then... Come in... The metal one titled himself Klarkossssh - many times he sssought to extend his influence and many times the Awakener guided usss to victory over his mechanical ssservantsss... You have ssslain him then? Maybe our interestsss are aligned... There is no reassson for usss to come to blowsss.... Tell me, what know you of Ydersssiuss?", a scaled hand strokes the hilt of one of the swords beneath his robes...
"I know nothing and less. Is that a dessert?"
The Headless King was god of your kin. Even after being decapitated in a battle when he went to the Darklands to hide as most of your race was welcomed in Pharasma's Eternals Gardens, he is supposed to still be living and to try to get his head back on..
Ea was still on her guards
Yes, we are just searching through the Spire...adventure is a hard call to resist, I think.
Yasmin decides to dodge the question about troglodytes as well for now, though it was hard to see how to avoid telling him eventually. Yasmin knows nothing about Yderisus, though he didn't sound that impressive. "Well, it seems to me that if Ysedrius is decapitated, that's a pretty good opportunity for Kro'akoth. You mentioned there was a prophecy about the Awakener. What is that?"
The serpentfolk seems tensed - as if ready to strike - whilst Grayface and Rallos speak - it is only through Yasmin's measured tone that the situation doesn't degenerate quickly, "Ydersius is a false god - worshipped by those who would cling to glory's past - Kro'akoth prophesises a return to sunlight - and to power - for those who now dwell in the darkness... Each obedience, each sacrifice, each prayer brings that day forwards..."
Now talking almost exclusively to Yasmin, "Below us... a cult devoted to the worship of the false god practice their perversion... In return for continued safe passage through our shrine, I would ask that you deliver a message..."
Wondering what this new development portended, the fighter raised an eyebrow and remained silent, awaiting the sorceress' reply to the snake man. Grayface had nearly started another combat with his poor choice of words moments ago, and he couldn't think of anything constructive to add at this moment either...
"And what message might that be?" asks Yasmin warily.
Rallos stands by Yasmin, seemingly nonchalant, but ready to pounce should matters turn hostile.
”The heretics will be delivered a message – a show of strength from Kro’akoth. From you, I need only that you deliver this message to Uzar-Kus… I will need you to carry… something… to the misguided high priest. I must warn you, the circle of Vissk-Thar is well defended – the worshippers of the false god will not welcome you as I have…”
Once more, the serpentfolk’s tongue flicks in the air, ”You will deliver this message for me?”
This "message"? Why will he not just tell us what this "something" is? Are we mere errand runners? I want no part of this nonsense, we owe no allegiance to either party...
The warrior began feeling hostility toward the snakeling for trying to manipulate us so quickly. He clearly underestimated our ability to reason. Gray felt his heckles rise as a small surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins, in anticipation of likely combat.
If we refuse, he likely won't take kindly to our presence. I think I might start adding fangs to my talisman...
No, we won't deliver your damned message of hate and violence to peaceful troglodytes who never done us any harm, you treacherous, forked tongue scaly demon-worshipper. Soon you'll enter Pharasma's Eternals Gardens.
Ea cast a spell to the reptilian priest.
As Ea's threats resonate around the room, the serpentfolk pulls a book from the shelf... and, instantly, the entire shelf rotates as if placed upon a turntable... After the flash of motion, the serpentfolk is gone - the bookshelf replaced by a blank wall...