Slurk makes his careful way along the corridor. Illuria, Bes and Qur'taz wait patiently in the first room, while Ashar takes a hesitant step in as the kobold reaches the passage's far end, preparing to begin study on the new reliefs within the hallway.
At just about that point, the floor beneath Slurk's leading foot gives a soft click.
Abruptly, the passage is filled with a barrage of darts, each longer than a typical crossbow bolt, if not quite so violently propelled. They fly with more than enough speed to wound, however, and it is almost impossible to avoid them.
Illuria's snakes hiss loudly and writhe a bit in agitation as the trap is spring. She tsks a bit and holds up her symbol of Wadjet.
She moves into the corridor far enough to catch the kobold at the far end in her burst. May the healing waters of the River Sphinx cleanse your wounds, brave scouts, she intones, and a wave of cooling energy washes down the corridor.
Q'urtaz quickly steps protectively before Bes, far too late to do any good, as he rumbles, "Little one? Are you badly injured? Ashar, are you able to continue?"
As Slurk steps upon a concealed pressure plate, he winces in anticipation of pain. "Oh, eggsacs," he mutters to himself as he's struck by a bolt in the side. Consciousness leaves him, and a single thought flits through his mind as blackness takes him.
So this is how Slurk ends.
Except it isn't.
A half-moment later, a cool sensation washes over the blue-scaled kobold, like cold water breaking upon the shores of a beach, and Slurk groans back into consciousness. "Slurk is alive?" he says with some surprise. "Slurk is alive, rock man! And, well, Slurk has found trap. Slurk is usually better at this. Slurk having off day." The kobold crawls back to the group, wincing as the dart moves inside him.
Ack, my sketches! Looks down at the bolt in his side. Oh.
Now that he knows what to look for, the little kobold traces the outline of the pressure plate, five feet deep and as wide as the passage, just in front of the far doors.
"Where did the missiles issue from?" He peers into the hall from his position, looking for the answer himself.
Even knowing roughly where to look, the oread cannot spot the origin of the darts among the carved hieroglyphs lining the walls.
Thank you for your blessing Lady Eruyale, I believe my innate resources can handle the rest of the wound.
Lighting a candle the Ifrit applies it to the edges of the wound. Rather than charring it further, the damage seems to burn away over a few seconds. Then in a single-minded display of mercantilism, Ashar gathers the ancient darts while Slurk continues to examine the trigger. He sets them in a neat stack outside the door so we can take them on the way out.
With his wound mostly healed, Slurk returns to searching the corridor for traps. He ends his movement at the door, carefully searching it this time.
Healing yourself with fire? Interesting, she nods her head in acknowledgment of Ashar's thanks, then glides a bit further into the hallway.
Ash Illuria moves, her snakes poke and prod a bit along the bas relief, hissing and rattling softly.
With the danger identified, we can simply bypass this floor panel and avoid further risk of injury, can we not?
Slurk begins poking and prodding at the floorplate. There is another click.
Illuria plucks one of the darts that whizzed past her off the floor and casually inspects it before again raising the symbol of Wadjet and channeling her gift.
Is your kind so fascinated with traps that you would ignore the lesson you just learned? she chides.
I believe i should withdraw so as to not further distract young slurk.
Once again, Slurk hears the tell-tale click of his failure. Once again, the dart strikes him in the side and drops him into unconsciousness. Once again, the snake lady slithers forward and uses her magic to bring him back from death's door.
"Slurk is sorry, snake lady," he says, groveling at her coils. "Slurk is not used to fitted stone. Traps in kobold warren different. Slurk will try again! Please do not eat Slurk for his failure!"
The medusa observes the kobold prostrate himself before her with a slight twist to her mouth. She feels the stirring of memory briefly, and thinks of the household staff who would similarly grovel before Mother when they had displeased her. She remembered that it often worked, not because Mother was so merciful, but that she hated how that pose looked in the garden.
Illuria rubbed her holy symbol and sighed. Get up, Slurk. You need not bow before me. I was unharmed. You should simply use more care, for I cannot guarantee Wadjet will continue to bless us for repeating the same mistakes.
The oread mutters, "Well, that answered my question, didn't it?"
"Now that we have seen ample evidence of the longevity and accuracy of our ancestors' ingenuity, perhaps it best if we devise a means to avoid the trigger, in case our small friend cannot disconnect it."
"For example, what happens if one keeps the trigger plate depressed for a longer interval?"
Would not a simple plank of wood lain across bypass it? Illuria offers.
Slurk studies the plate for a while longer, then judiciously applies the heel of his hand to his brow. "Stupid, stupid, Slurk! It has been too long since Slurk has made traps, he has almost forgotten how to take them apart!" He looks around the group, more animated now. "Trapsetting communal activity in kobold warrens. Even little hatchlings have jobs sharpening wooden spikes or tying knots. But Slurk has been on his own since...erm, for awhile." The kobold's blue scales turn a curious shade of purple around his cheekbones, but quickly continues. "Slurk has been trying to take apart a trap that would normally take two kobolds to take apart! Of course Slurk would fail! Slurk needs another kobold! Or, well, kobold surrogate. One of you, yes?" As he finishes, Slurk looks around at the group, his tail thrashing excitedly.
Q'urtaz rumbles down the hallway. "What do you need me to do, small one?"
Do your leg-things not allow you to jump?
"Do we have a pair of poles or a plank in our equipment? I could brace them at the base of the door to allow Master Slurk to work on unlocking the door without touching the floor. When the door is open, we would have something to jump to."
"Small legs means small jump, snake lady," Slurk says, studying the trap again. "Maybe we can activate trap over and over until darts run out from safe area? Get pulley into ceiling, and something heavy on end of rope - drop heavy thing on plate until darts are all gone."
Perhaps if we use the tent poles to set up two shields to provide young Slurk with some cover he will have the time he needs to disable this devious device. Failing that, we can always just fill some of our many sacks with sand and hurl them down the hall. If the hit the door they will bounce down to the floor plate.
"I will try to empty the trap. Give me a bag of sand and move out of the hall."
With a prayer , the oread lays on his back with the bag of sand on his chest. Heaving it up and 'overhead', he slams it into the trigger plate and waits to see the result of his handiwork, waiting until any airborne darts have fallen before taking stock of the situation.
Illuria retreats to the earlier room while Q'urtaz attempts his novel method of bypassing the trap. She absently rubs her holy symbol as her snakes twitch in agitation.
Another hail of darts shoots through the air, filling the hallway.
One does manage to cut the oread's rocklike skin, drawing blood.
A thought occurs to Q'urtaz. "Maybe the sand will hold the trigger down." With the sandbag still in place, he turns over, crawls forward, and presses down with both hands on the trigger.
A fourth volley follows.
Again he is cut, and blood now flows from two wounds.
"Little one, how many times do you think this trap might work?"
The medusa's eyes glitter beneath her veil. I am quite ashamed I did not think of this before. Would you like to become a stone statue for a few seconds after you depress the plate? I do not believe the arrows would harm you, and then you will be flesh in another instant.
A slight smile -- perhaps a hint of eagerness -- touches her face as she suggests this course of action.
Q'urtaz looks down at his form. "Huh, OK."
The smile widens as the offer is accepted. Stand, and take your weighted bags with you. Step toward me a few paces. When you are ready, throw the bags upon the plate and let my gaze wash over you.
She tugs softly at her ever-present veil, revealing glittering red-gold eyes. Her look of concentration comes from her desire to time it right, and her simmering excitement comes from the opportunity to use her gaze to protect, rather than harm.
Q'urtaz tosses his sandbag and - while the heavy bag is still in the air - Illuria unleashes a part of herself that she all-too-rarely sets loose. The effect on the oread is unexpected: the glimmering sheen of the gems set into his skin suddenly spreads across his entire body, freezing him into what looks like a massive, man-sized diamond. The bag hits the trap and another hail of darts fills the hallway.
One dart skips off the new statue like a stick hurled against a wall. A moment later, the diamond effect reverses, and the oread stands untouched in the hallway.
Only to realize that the pressure plate is still depressed under the weight of the sandbag.
The oread's gem-like eyes widen as he realizes the potential results of the current situation. With all of the speed his limbs can provide, he rushes toward the others in the party, heedless of whoever he might run over in his rush.
Dodge, duck, dip, dive and dodge!
His eyes widen as the rock man comes barreling back down the hall. With a yelp of fear, he leaps behind the snake lady for safety.
Illuria sways gracefully to the side to allow the oread to pass.