Bree gasps at the creature. "Gods above, I think it's a crysmal. They're like little earth elementals. They eat crystals to reproduce. And it's kind of cute! I imagine it would speak terran if anyone knows it."
"Amazing! Unfortunately, no, that wasn't part of my study. Perhaps we can find an intermediary language?"
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Cedric stands still with as much distance as he can put between himself and the 'crysmal,' as Bree called it. While he's very glad it's not actually a scorpion, it sure looks pretty close. It doesn't seem to be overtly hostile, but he keeps a tight grip on his spear waiting to feel any pain from Caladra. Scorpions rather freak him out, even at tiny sizes.
"The only language I know is common," he mumbles, trying not to look directly at it. "I could prepare a comprehension spell tomorrow, though. We could understand it with that, but not the other way 'round."
The crysmal backs away from Caladra, giving her some breathing room.
It begins to peer around the party members who have drawn closer, and it continues to speak in haunting, ethereal Terran.
From what you can glean from its tone, the crysmal is beginning to realize that the party cannot understand it.
"Wait, hold on a moment!" Thorek carefully backs away, then hurries back the way they came. Moving up to a denser collection of wall-embedded gemstones, the dwarf starts to pry them loose. After retrieving a handful he hustles back.
Holding one aloft so the Crysmal can see it, he gives it a gentle underhanded toss towards the creature. "See? We're friendly!" he coos at it.
Cyrioul snaps his fingers, then fiddles a bit with his ring and says, "I was saving this method of casting for more of an emergency, but I think this might be important, so... Gwybod Ieithoedd!" With that, his ears are opened, and he can understand the creature's words.
The crysmal soon perks up and seems to sniff the mist-heavy air.
Thorek returns, running with a handful of gems taken from the entrance hall.
The crysmal rushes over and greedily grabs them, sticking them in its crystalline maw with its spindly claws.
”Good thinking Thorek, it liked that. And, Bree, I think it’s getting ready to reproduce right now. It’s expecting more crystals from the troglodyte... shaman? Was that the one at the cave entrance? Either way, sounds like it’s name is Clilassh. Clilassh?” The wizard tries to repeat this last back to the creature, to show a little bit of understanding.
The crysmal stops with a start, suddenly surprised to understand Cyrioul.
"Hmm, no, I'm sorry, I don't have more," Cyrioul shows open hands and shakes his head, then points to Thorek. "But he can get you more, or show you where some are."
The wizard points to the doors to the north. "Can you understand me? Is the shaman that way? He has more gems?" Cyrioul does his best to pantomime what he's asking, uncertain if the creature gets the nature of his words.
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The crysmal grabs the last of the gems Thorek brought and, losing interest in the party members themselves, slinks into its corner to eat and search for more crystals.
Boudra, who can't hear the creature and couldn't understand it even if she did, watches, amazed, as the others feed it gems. I've always thought of the caves in these woods as a dark place, but it seems there's more down here than I'd bargained for...I wonder if we can get it to help us long-term?
Cedric is still uneasy about the scorpion-like entity, but is starting to relax a little bit as it continues to not attack them. He gives an inquiring look at Cyrioul.
"Do you, uh, think it'll let us pass now that we've fed it?" he asks. "We should probably keep moving down here while the barkskin spell is still working on Caladra, if possible."
”Seems disinterested. But if we run into another troglodyte shaman, it might have been a source of food for this creature. We should be prepared to turn over any gems that shaman might have on him, if we end up in a fight. Otherwise, we could find ourselves with another combat on our hands. If there is another creature nearby, I have a new spell that could help me... well, know what it’s thinking. I’m a little embarrassed to share that I have this one. Know that I’ll never use it on any of you - only those we truly consider a threat. It’s powerful magic, and not to be undertaken lightly.”
Caladra only cocks an eyebrow as she watches the scorpion scurry around from one to another. "So you say there's more trogs down here?" she asks when she hears Cy mention a shaman.
”There might be. Anyone hear anything behind that door? If so, I’ll see if I can tell what it is.”
Bree leans over and puts her ear near the door.
This is followed by the sounds of moving bodies and scuffling leathers.
Bree gives everyone the 'shush' sign and motions to the group to indicate that there are others behind the door. She gives the thumbs-up to Cyr to try his thing.
Boudra give Cyrioul a deadpan look when he asks his question, but cocks her crossbow.
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Lily quietly anticipates the next battle readying to get the jump on them.
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Thorek sidles past the crysmal and moves to flank the door, weapon at the ready.
Caladra readies herself as well, Feeling the familiar touch of the rage forever boiling inside her stir more. The bloodlust she has come to control leaves her excited for the other side of the doorway. She waits for the signal to move in, body tense.
Boudra steps up behind Thorek and nervously places a steadying hand on his shoulder.
Cyrioul nods back to Bree, says, "Give me a minute," then grins sheepishly at Boudra before he begins a chant that ends with the words, "Canfod meddyliau!"
One of them possesses a strong will, and you are unable to breach their thoughts.
From the other mind, though, you are able to glean cursory thoughts, and words in crude Draconic enter your mind.
"Ighiz speaks with the Stone. She will lead us to victory, even without the Living Crystal's help. We are the Children of Stone, and we are strong."
These thoughts are tinged with apprehension and bitter, barely suppressed fear.
The wizard whispers, "All right everyone, definitely more trogs in there, at least two. One I couldn't read, and one that referred to their group as the Children of Stone. It sounds like there's a powerful item in there, a crystal of some type, and one of the others might be able to communicate with it. The creature I could read isn't happy to be here - if anything, it seems scared. Be on your guard."
He takes a final moment to use his wand of mage armor on himself, then steps to the back of the group and indicates his readiness to enter.
Perhaps that one will surrender? Boudra signs.
Perhaps that one will surrender? Boudra signs.
We can only hope, he signs back. To the rest, "Should we offer terms of surrender to these? They have no hope of making it now that the rest of their tribe failed to do so. We can at least make the gesture, even if they reject it."
"So Cal kicks in the door and yells surrender or die?"
" Wait wait wait... Before we attack the worshipers of the elemental here. What's that? ," she says pointing to the necklace.
"I'm not opposed to offering surrender, but what can we possible offer them? Exile to the Darklands? Let them wander the surface and possibly be picked up by Ironfang hunters? I admit I'm torn."
"What's that?
"What is what?" Thorek asks, nervously shuffling back a half-step from the spot Lily points out.
Lily grabs the object and says," This?"
Cyrioul mutters a cantrip and scans it for magical energies, studying it for a several moments if it has them.
While looking he shrugs and says, "Could be we could find common ground. They can do their thing down here, and we can do our thing up there, and neither of us has to cross paths with the other." Even he isn't too convinced by his words as they come out.
The brooch radiates abjuration magic, and Cyrioul is able to recognize its enchantment as befitting a Brooch of Shielding.
Cyrioul whistles. "Don't give this one to my enemies - or at least, not as long as these wands hold power." He holds it out to Lily. "Could be a very helpful protective item for you to wear. Good eye!"
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Caladra and Thorek send the stone doors crashing open, screeching upon their hinges.
Enormous salt crystals hang from the ceiling here, glittering in the light of a glowing blue crystal set in an inhuman, insect-like statue in the center of the floor.
Mist drifts along the floor of the circular chamber, swirling in the currents of air and whipped into a brief frenzy as the doors swing open.
The western wall has collapsed into stony debris, but the eastern wall is dominated by a carving of a huge, withered dragon's face, leering above a metallic door set deep in the stone.
Woven mats made of dried grasses cover the floor, while bundles of dried herbs hang from the walls, filling the room with a pungent grassy odor.
The smell of herbs, however, cannot hope to mask the stench of troglodytes.
Two trogs stand visible through the doorway. Both are obviously shamans of some sort, although the nearest one is clearly of a greater station, given the scaled robes and blue gems she wears around her neck and forearms.
Lily in her excitement fires her arrow wildly at the trog.
Lily's arrow glances off a magic force shielding the lead trog.
The trog acolyte utters guttural words in primitive Draconic and invokes a spell.
A sheen of pungent grease oozes forth from the stone beneath Caladra, Thorek, and Bree's feet.
Although the women maintain their footing, Thorek's armor unbalances him and he tumbles forward, his beard quickly growing soaked with grease.
The acolyte then withdraws to a corner of the room beyond the door.
To avoid falling in the grease, Bree carefully steps forward past Thorek and moves in between him and the enemy. She stabs at the (purple) trog, hoping she can score a hit.
but her rapier slides off his hide.
"Hey, that's my trick..." Cyrioul frowns at the trog's layer of grease.
The wizard is visibly sickened by the stench emerging from this room. "Gah, it's horrible!" He reaches out and taps on the shoulder to grant her a mote of prescience on her next attack. He then maneuvers behind Cedric to best stay out of the way.
Cyrioul channels his magic despite the sweeping nausea overtaking him.
As Bree enters the room, a pair of javelins come whistling at her from either side - hurled by trog warriors lurking in the corners.
She moves too quickly, though, and escapes harm.
Bree slips forward, but her rapier's thrust only skitters off the shaman's thick scales.
One of the trogs positioned in the corner draws a hefty looking ceremonial club and braces itself, waiting for something.
Cedric also starts gagging at the stench. He had rather hoped that the worst of the smell was already behind them, and so wasn't properly prepared for the full magnitude of the possible stink anymore. He figures the best thing to do is to make sure those who are feeling better can handle things more effectively, so he presents his holy symbol and casts bless to aid his allies.
As soon as the spell is released he claps his free hand over his nose and mouth in a vain attempt to stop the smell from making it through.
- Shield Other and Barkskin on Caladra
- Bless on everyone, 3 minutes
- Sickened (self)