Lyraath starts cackling with glee, ”Now this is fun! So much for caution!” and tries to open the chest.
Lyraath, the collapse of the bubble is imminent, but obviously treasure is much more important. The chest opens easily and you are not disappointed: the source of the sailor's song is a beautiful (so beautiful it almost makes you cry, actually) trident made of what could very well be shaped pearl, covered in artistic images of waves, shells, and sea creatures.
The same raspy voice from the song comes forth "So...the force bubble finally popped, eh? Well, that means you are in for a ride. If you want to survive, that is. Grasp my handle. Give up whatever gods you serve and pledge allegiance to the gods of the sea: Umberlee, Valkur, or the Deep Sashelas. Do this and I'll save ye from being boiled alive. You will know what I am: Wave."
You can also spot a sporty black pair of spectacles and about 5 huge sacks of jewels and coin...probably worth about 20,000 all together!
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"Woah."
Lyraath's eye go wide, his mouth hangs open, and a little bit of drool forms as his intent to run fades. "Oh yeah! Uh, if it will save me from being boiled, then sure I'll pledge to whoever! I don't worship anyone anyways. So the... uh..." Lyraath shrugs trying to remember the names, "...uh, 3rd one sounds good. Deep Sashalasha. I'll worship him! Or her. Or them. Not boiling is nice." Then his eyes gleam and he grabs the trident and then awkwardly tries to grab the spectacles and one or more sacks if he can, filling up his arms with as much treasure as he can manage, "And being able to carry all this out is even nicer."
Molok moves towards where Lyraath is busily scooping up treasure and assists in gathering all the rest of the bags.
"Come we need to go now. Hot water will kill you all!"
He practically picks the Gith up and hauls him back toward the door.
Narnel jabs twice with his rapier and completes two roun kicks simultaneously in a flurry of blows against the halfling.
The bubble collapses.
In an instant, the entire weight of the boiling lake comes crashing down from above.
Lyraath and Molok
Just as Lyraath finishes his pledge and Molok grabs him from behind, Wave explodes with light, setting up a force barrier against the pounding boiling water. The current of the chaos picks up the bouyant package, streaming away into the depths of the volcano. The cube is bashed and smashed against the sharp volcanic rock but Lyraath and Molok are unharmed. Their hearts might sink however when the cube tops a fall, and begins to pour straight down into the redhot bubbling lava of the volcano!
But the water strikes the lava first, and a tremendous burst of steam is generated, ejecting them rapidly 1000s of feet straight up, out the blowhole of the mountain and into the clear blue sky...the mad wizard certainly never expected this loophole in his prison.
Godric
The boiling lake crashes down just as Godric's mind returns from its intense focus on channeling the Raven...scalding water seeps into every crack in the armor...
fire
...assuming he survives this, he is likewise swept uncontrollably away in the current, dinking and clanging along the razor sharp volcanic rocks along the way...
bludgeoning
...and into the highly pressurized jet of steam erupting from the mountaintop...
fire
...Godric likewise finds himself suddenly enjoying a birds eye view of White Plume Mountain. Its a beautiful day outside, really.
Narnel and Nine
Bravely taking a final stand on his last shred of strength, Narnel executes a masterful fury against the halfling, whose flesh bursts and stretches in response, growing 2, 3, 4 times the original size. An oni, giant shapechanger with magical abilities, would appear to be Ruby's true form. But just as the creature seems to be preparing for a another strike against the kensei, its red eyes widen in total fear, it turns, and runs full speed down the hall. The bubble burst, and a wall of boiling water is pouring through the useless open hatches...catching Narnel and Nine, and sweeping them back into the dungeon...
...Narnel is immediately again knocked unconscious from the scalding heat, but somehow still lives. His body, along with the still pseudo-conscious Nine, tumble head over heels in the hot water back down the corridors of the dungeon...
Urth posted here. He would have moved toward Nine to prepare the lightning bolt next round.
Urth would cast Absorb Elements as a Reaction to Resist the damage. He also has a swim speed so could mitigate some of the surfing.
Urth
The water crashes down instantly on Urth, but he was ready for it. His own magical barrier thrust forth instinctively, shielding him from the most intense burning...
becomes 28 fire
...but even the sailor's sturdy legs are no match for the pressure of the boiling lake, and Urth is swept up along for the ride. He feels himself being sucked into tunnel filled with razor sharp volcanic rocks, but his diviner's mind clues him into a possible way out, if his body can execute the motions...
...Urth manages to dodge the sharp obsidian and scratching cinders with his masterful aquatic styles, zipping over and under a step ahead of the present with his hyperawareness.
Soon however the flow of liquid becomes a flow of gas, and he too feels the burst of hot steam pushing him hard up out of the mountain...
becomes 10
...and quickly finds himself ejected into the clear blue sky, falling rapidly back down into the forest...there too just out of reach are Molok and Lyraath embraced in some weird cubical assemblage, and Godric clutching the black blade in a death grip...but you are no stranger to heights.
Urth activates his boots of flying and descends with dignity.
Godric stood, completely unscathed. Having eaten the soul of the crustacean, he had just enough stolen power to completely avoid taking even a scratch. From within the dark confines of his robe an otherworldly laugh came out. True, utter joy was within the sound. ”My Queen! Your will is done!” Triumphantly he held the blade up to the sky. As he did so, every scratch and every dent in his armor was mended and every tear and hole in his cloak repaired. He stood pristine before the survivors.
”And as for the rest of you...her will could not have been done without you. Queen’s blessings be upon you.”
Godric crawls out of his little impact crater just next to Lyraath and Molok as Urth descends from above. The cube of force bent like a rubber ball upon striking the mountainside, protecting its inhabitants, and Wave has speared itself into the ground with its 3 prongs pointed upwards "Whelm..? Blackrazor...? Is it truly you?"
Whelm was the first to respond "...Wave! Ye salt..."
But Blackrazor regally interjected "These handlers have done the impossible...an infinite feast is before us."
Molok for one feels an overwhelming sense of dread, Whelm's curse has taken root and he greatly fears being outside. The bright sun is most unwelcome...
Weapon (trident), legendary (requires attunement by a creature that worships a god of the sea)
Held in the dungeon of White Plume Mountain, this trident is an exquisite weapon engraved with images of waves, shells, and sea creatures. Although you must worship a god of the sea to attune to this weapon, Wave happily accepts new converts.
You gain a +3 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with this magic weapon. If you score a critical hit with it, the target takes extra necrotic damage equal to half its hit point maximum.
The weapon also functions as a trident of fish command and a weapon of warning. It can confer the benefit of a cap of water breathing while you hold it, and you can use it as a cube of force by choosing the effect, instead of pressing cube sides to select it.
Sentience
Wave is a sentient weapon of neutral alignment, with an Intelligence of 14, a Wisdom of 10, and a Charisma of 18. It has hearing and darkvision out to a range of 120 feet.
The weapon communicates telepathically with its wielder and can speak, read, and understand Aquan. It can also speak with aquatic animals as if using a speak with animals spell, using telepathy to involve its wielder in the conversation.
Personality
When it grows restless, Wave has a habit of humming tunes that vary from sea chanteys to sacred hymns of the sea gods.
Wave zealously desires to convert mortals to the worship of one or more sea gods, or else to consign the faithless to death. Conflict arises if the wielder fails to further the weapon’s objectives in the world.
The trident has a nostalgic attachment to the place where it was forged, a desolate island called Thunderforge. A sea god imprisoned a family of storm giants there, and the giants forged Wave in an act of devotion to—or rebellion against—that god.
Wave harbors a secret doubt about its own nature and purpose. For all its devotion to the sea gods, Wave fears that it was intended to bring about a particular sea god’s demise. This destiny is something Wave might not be able to avert.
Proficiency with a trident allows you to add your proficiency bonus to the attack roll for any attack you make with it.
At this point the weapons each have their own agendas and would likely try to lead their wielders towards those goals. You were originally hired to return these weapons, if feeling honorous, however. You could of course do something completely different! I'd like if everyone could write a little paragraph epilogue for your PC as Godric has. Sadly, I don't see a way for Narnel to survive...the 8d10 continues each round and the entire dungeon floods.
"What a ride! WAVE! As a priest of Valkur, I claim you for His purpose!" Urth strides up and pulls Wave from the earth and holds it aloft. The trident's engraved images of waves, shells, and sea creatures, perfectly matches the sailor's plate mariner's armor.
"Godric, it doesn't sound that you plan to return Blackrazor to our employers. Which is alright with me. For Wave and I have much to do, too." Urth claims.
After a short pause, Urth looks around and asks, "Where's Narnel and Nine?"
Sadly, I don't see a way for Narnel to survive...the 8d10 continues each round and the entire dungeon floods.
Lyraath laughed with pure glee as Molok and him were blasted out the mountain. As they landed, he just sighed with content. Treasure chests were always good to open.
"Hey, Urth, enjoy the trident. It wants you to worship water people or something. I promised I'd pledge myself to some Deep Shashabasha but I can't even remember their name, so I don't think that's gonna work for me. And that was quite a lot of fun with water for a while!"
He waved off the healing, since with the force cube protecting him, he actually managed to survive that last insane ride unscathed.
"Narnel and Nine? I don't know. I grabbed Molok and that spear thing. I thought one of you had Narnel. Huh. Think he'll pop out soon?" Lyraath shields his eyes and looks to the sky watching for Narnel to be blasted out as well. "Huh. Guess he didn't want to leave yet."
The "feathered" mountain continues to throw its materials into the sunlight, the unseen and incomprehensible prison beneath now slumbering...for a time.
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A few weeks after the harrowing events of the adventure to White Plume Mountain, Molok finds himself in a small town. Travelling by night, his extreme fear of the outdoors is somewhat lessened, but he still feels the pressure of all that space weighing down on him.
Whelm had originally wanted him to travel with all haste to the nearest dwarven compound and turn him over to a "proper" warrior but after a run-in with some orges, their hill giant master and a caravan of dwarven prisoners, Whelm decided that perhaps, for the time anyway, Molok would make a 'suitable' host.
Much has the goliath learned from Whelm and has even started growing a beard, though it's mossy colour and texture is a constant point of argument between the two.
Resting in the tiny tavern the goliath gets many looks from the locals, but none are brave enough to approach. As he is enjoying a quiet ale the door suddenly bursts open and a skinny local boy runs in, sweating and out of breath.
"Angus! Close the door boy. What's all this hoo-haw about?", the bartender calls to the winded teen.
"Giants! Hundreds of them. They came down from the mountains and attacked several of the farms and they are heading here!"
Sighing, Molok stands and grabs his travel-worn pack. He mutters to Whelm and gives the slightest of smiles.
"Watch my ale...we'll be right back!"
Lyraath clutched the wound to slow the bleeding. He considered pulling off another patch for a healing potion, but it didn't look that bad. The creatures scratched at the other side of the door, with just a couple inches of wood separating his back from their foul claws. The archway across the room led to nothing but collapsed stone, far too much to dig through.
On second thought, he considered pulling all of the patches off out of spite, just so that no one else could make use of them, but then reconsidered. "If some roaming band of explorers comes across my corpse, it might be a fun treat for them to find," he thought to himself. The notion of contributing to someone else's loot was kinda nice.
All Lyraath ever loved doing was crawling through dungeons and spending the money he found partying in the slums of the nearest city. Unfortunately, he had been finding actually too much loot, and in the cities, the poor just tried to steal from him and the more well off shunned him as some frightening creature.
So he had settled into his love of strange, deadly, inexplicable dungeons. The stranger and more nonsensical, the better.
He had even heard of a grand one below Waterdeep and hoped to someday make his way there.
But no, his latest band of companions wanted to "look at these dwarven ruins real quick." Well, their bodies will surely be here for quite a while. Lyraath wondered how long it would be until someone found his corpse - or at least whatever those demonic creatures left of it.
With a sigh, he finally decided out loud to no one in particular, "Maybe I should at least pull out the boat patch. Yeah, that should thoroughly confuse anyone who finds me years from now. Bet they'll spend a good long while wondering why there's a boat in the middle-" He was cut off by a sudden flash of light in the archway across from him!
The collapsed tunnel was replaced with some unrecognizable alley, and a strange man - all blue in color with wildly curved horns stepped through. "Whoops! Sorry, berk! Wrong door. Ta!" As the tiefling turned back, Lyraath smiled with glee and jumped after him.
The door ripped open behind him, and fiery claws raked at his heels, but Lyraath leaped through the portal just as it snapped shut.
He was surrounded by the most bizarre collection of creatures he had ever seen. Most humanoid, some not. Even a couple very similar to the other githyanki he only barely remembered from his early childhood.
As he looked up and saw a grand city curve up into the sky before him, he couldn't restrain himself from clapping and proclaiming, "I love it!! This! This is where I belong!" before hurrying off to see just what mischief he could find in his new home.