N'bellocq follows Qhude down, bow still at ready for any threats bigger than a spider.
Looking a little stunned at the divine power that can be called from driftwood Jakob gulps. "Not a problem....I have another in here somewhere."
Jakob follows the others down the stairs. If he can see the windblown torch he will recover it and cast Light upon the still good rushes.
"I think I prefer to be a little more prepared for any more surprises," Kieran quips as he draws his sword, keeping it in hand. "Though preferably ones that can be stabbed, I do admit."
As they move ahead, the half-elf walks a little closer to Tebati, a half-smile on his face. "I noticed the look on your face, you know. You rather enjoyed that, did you not?"
"As much as you did skewering the great beetle when we went to retrieve Bethany from the Bandu," she replies jubliantly, entwining her fingers with those of his free hand, "or slicing open the wax Azlanti. Most of my successes lie in keeping the rest of you on your feet and fighting; to be the one who turns the tide of the battle...." She smiles and squeezes his hand. "Well, it was only spiders, but perhaps I understand a little what it is to enjoy the spotlight?" She lowers her voice lest it carry to the Bas'o descending the staircase. "As I 'rescued' Qhude from the spider swarm, am I obliged to allow him to show his appreciation? He is no damsel, but...," she teases.
Leaving the gory mess of the uppermost floor behind, the group descended to the bottom of the stairs, which led downwards a total of 30 feet from top to bottom. Evidently, the stairway was at least partially between floors, as the group noted that the height of the ceiling of this new level was twenty foot, not thirty.
From their new position at the very bottom of the stairs, the group surveyed the south-leading corridor before them. They noted that the fine, mosaic-style flooring present in the level above had persisted and seemed to be consistent to both levels. This level of the pyramid apparently boasted inner walls, which appeared to be of similar quality and preservation to the outside of the pyramid; strong, well-crafted masonry.
The walls of the pyramid seem a little strange to you. It looks like there are faint red lines running along the walls, almost as if they are pulsating like veins, pumped by some ghastly heart. These faint lines pulsate, changing from a dull rouge to a glowing, sickening blood red. It is unsettling.
A mere 30 feet away to the south, at the end of the corridor before the group, sat a squat, horned frog with a wide, toothy mouth. This foul, dark grey frog was a little bigger than a man and seemed to be sat inside some sort of complex diagram, set into the mosaic floor itself as part of the flooring, rather than drawn on. The frog was sat on the edge of this diagram and stared directly at the group with unblinking eyes.
To either side of the ten foot wide corridor, two inner walls led up to the diagram and the creature within. Although it was heard to establish full detail without venturing into the corridor, these inner walls seemed to be lined with firing holes and spears that seemed to jut out of the walls, evidently designed to be thrust from the other side of the wall.
Please make me a spoilered perception check.
The scarred and confident Bas'o leading you into the pyramid catches his step and spends a few moments staring at one of the walls before shaking his head to clear it and continuing on. Though his gait is slightly more crouched and a little more cautious.
Pausing after he has cleared the stairway enough for the others to join him upon the floor, he gestures at the frog with the blade end of his rope-wrapped polearm "First men and now a frog?... does it live?"
Ansha peers at the unblinking frog suspiciously as the group descends into the lower chamber. "I'm not sure," Ansha replies. "Give me a moment."
N'bellocq takes a bead on the frog and watches for the slightest movement, prepared to shoot if it threatens.
Aldori blade in hand, Kieran moves along with the rest of his companions, though the half-elf does seem to stay closer to Tebati, which is hardly a surprise. Keeping his silver eyes open, he tries to look for any traps or other nasty surprises, being especially wary of the firing holes lining the inner walls. Even so, it is hard for him to ignore the strange frog, if for no other reason that the creature's sheer size. As is his way, he can hardly resist a little quip.
"Perhaps we should poke it with something and see if it reacts?"
Ansha detected magic running along the walls, floor and ceiling of the entire level (or as much of it as she could so). The aura was powerful and she was completely unable to identify it. To her eyes, the magic ran in veins along the walls, floor and ceilings of the place; including on the lower levels of the stairwell. The circle in which the frog-thing sat also radiated strong magic; of Abjuration, specifically. Ansha was fairly confident it was a Magic Circle of sorts, used to summon, call and/or bind outsiders to the material plane.
You hear a voice in your mind. The tone is dry and mirthless, with a guttural and harsh accent to it but you understand none of the words.
Ansha eyes the frog-thing suspiciously as she realizes something. "It's bound in that circle. Poking it may break the ward...and that would be a bad thing," she replies to Kieran. She advances toward the front of the group, stopping just behind and to the side of Qhude.
Addressing the fiend, she speaks in a harsh language. "Ashk burz nograth varnhold telkno hachnaz?"
"It can't be a natural creature," Tebati murmurs needlessly. "It couldn't survive in here with nothing to eat but wax men." She warily watches as Ansha speaks to the frog.
Qhude stands guardedly ready with his rope wrapped polearm gripped tightly in his rope-wrapped fist as those more knowledgeable in arcane matters plumb the depths of the frog.
N'bellocq relaxes slightly as Ansha talks to it so as to not shoot it if it were to respond, and will wait to see if it can in fact cross out of its spot to harm them. But he eyes the holes in the wall as well. "The Frog is not our only worry, these holes seemed designed to deliver spear attacks. Kieran, does the floor show any link to these holes?"
[b]"Strange place for a defensive line."[b]
Jakob notes the solid walls and how his eyes keep sliding off the frog-thing.
Yes, but not in any particular pattern. The lines interaction with the circle seems fairly random.
A voice seems to sneer into your mind, in the Abyssal language. Telepathy, evidently.
I was commanded to guard this passage from intrusion. While ruin has long been wrought to those that purchased my master's services with the lives of hundreds, I remain. Rotting. Forgotten. Festering. But no matter. I see the wheels of time have turned... and brought an opportunity before me.
Ansha blinks in surprise at the frog-demon, though the expression registers for only a fleeting moment. "Gulakh melkronzk formnar? Melka ashk zhrodeth na? Felku no khara?"
Tebati sighs as Ansha speaks unintelligibly to the frog. "I'm not comfortable with her negotiating for us," she murmurs to Kieran. "One never knows what she is agreeing to on our behalf."
Qhude rounds on Ansha as she speaks in a language far beyond his ken and his eyes narrow. Words do not come to his lips, but he clearly would move to interpose between Ansha and the 'thing' if she chose to act without explaining herself first.
"Heh," Kieran chuckles softly before answering in a whisper of his own. "You do not like her very much, do you? At least after the incident with Zesaste. Well, we will find out soon enough what her negotiations are about..."
He pauses and then says, "I heard a voice in my mind a few seconds ago, dry and in a harsh language. It sounded a little like the language Ansha is using now."
"It is not a question of affection, but of trust," she answers wryly, but she frowns with alarm at Kieran's confession. "Ansha," she asks the elf sharply, "what is that thing, and what powers does it possess?"
Ansha doesn't take her eyes off of the frog as she rests her left hand on the scrollcases at her side. "It is a demon, set here to guard this hall from intruders. It should be bound by that diagram, but perhaps there is a mechanism here that releases it if we venture too far in."
The unblinking stare of the grey frog-like creature gave away absolutely nothing. You would not even be sure it was communicating with Ansha were it not for Kieran;s testament. The group did notice however, that the oversized frog sported a brutal looking pair of claws.
The Daemon replied almost lazily, as if it was extremely patient.
It seems you do not know the history and lore that the Azlant swore to pass down through the remains of their order, so long ago. None of you even speak the tongue, I am sure. What a pity, when their order made the words you would need so blindingly available to you. So it would seem you have little recourse to advance. When you do so, I shall bring death and ruin to you and yours; and I shall summon a Cacodaemon to harvest your souls. My long service shall finally end, and I will profit by it. Even if you do not advance, I am certain others will come now. If this ancient place has finally been found, I shall not be bound for long.
"Some sort of ceustodaemon, I think. Most elements won't harm him, and if I remember right, he can breathe a cone of cold that will fill the whole corridor," the enchantress says softly. "He says that there are words in the Azlant tongue that would grant us passage. Or if we advance, we will loose him from that ward and he will try to kill us."
She bites her lower lip, pondering. "Qhude, do you remember seeing any other writings upstairs that you could understand after you drank from that fountain? Or maybe it is the wording on that statue about 'Arioch, venerable founder of our order.'"
Qhude pauses for a few moments to consider Ansha's question, and he seems unsure of himself... before taking a fortifying inhalation of breath and replying "No, there were no other words that I read... but... there is more"
With his guisarme as paintbrush Qhude traces the walls "In the stone... I see... blood. Veins of red flow through this place, and surge as though fed by a distant heart." pointing to the circle at the frog-daemon's feet "The blood feeds that which holds the beast as prisoner."
Qhude then closes his eyes and tries to recall the wording upon the plaque above, emptying his mind and trying to force his tongue to work by instinct and see if he can force his mind to speak what was written, rather than what his mind thought.
Ansha nods. "I see the magic coursing through those veins as well. Can you repeat the phrase 'Arioch, venerable founder of our order' in Azlant, Qhude?"
The Daemon displayed absolutely no expression as Qhude spoke in the foreign tongue. The frog's steely gaze never wavered from watching as it seemed to rapidly disappear, along with the magical circle that held it. As it vanished, there seemed to be a cruel glint in its eye...
Ansha shudders. She notes whether any of the magical auras faded when the daemon vanished, then says, "That's one problem solved. What now? Check out the murder holes and spear ports?"
"Why did it speak to Kieran?" Tebati wonders uneasily. "I heard no voice. Cousin, did it speak to you?" she asks N'bellocq.
Qhude's mouth feels dry after speaking the words that were alien to him as recently as this morning. Reaching for a waterskin he refreshes his mouth before cautiously advancing to stand just before where the frog did.
"I heard no such voice. I am sure I am glad for that."
N'bellocq squats and stares out across the passage looking for anything that might suggest a means to trip the spear traps.
"You felt you were being watched in the jungle outside Freehold," she points out to Kieran, "when none of us noticed anything. I thought maybe it was Zesaste spying ... but I would feel better if you weren't singled out for special attention from things we cannot see or hear." She squeezes his hand.
"What'd it say to you, anyway, Kieran?" Ansha asks, eyeing the space that only recently held a daemon with suspicion. "Or the closest approximation you can make, anyway."
Kieran tightens his own grip on Tebati's hand with a smile. "Really? And here I thought such a thing would make me feel special in some vague, potentially life-threatening way..." His tone is teasing as he replies to the priestess before turning to Ansha. He does seem to become a little more serious, but not by much.
"Let me think," he says, at the same time trying to recall the words, if that is what they were. At the very least, they were not in any languages that he knows, but he still manages to utter a close enough approximation of what he "heard" in his mind a few moments ago.
"Karanzol Darkm, Shat... or was it, Shator Masat... or Mausat. Guzaah...," he speaks the words as best he can, occasionally stumbling over the unfamiliar syllables. "Or something like that, anyway. It was spoken with urgency, almost as if whoever was talking was shouting at me."
"Trust me Kieran the less notice such things take of you the better off you are. Hopefully it was just the frog thing trying to talk to you and healthy paranoia in the jungle. There are already far too many cooks for this porridge to turn out well."
The spears and firing holes along the walls looked like they had to be manned in order to operate, and through the various peep-holes looking out onto the corridor, the group could see motionless skeletons, standing as though in formation, ready to defend the corridor. They showed no sign of reacting to the presence of any of the group as they inspected the corridor.
Translating loosely what Kieran said, Ansha concluded that it was some kind of threat to flay Kieran's skin from him and wear it as a trophy.
Ansha's translation does not seem to improve Tebati's attitude toward the departed frog any.
"At this point, I think we're just going to have to send someone down the hall and see what happens," Ansha says.
"Volunteering?" Tebati quietly asks Ansha with a smirk.
Ansha smiles wryly. "I'd prefer not tempting fate when there are braver, stronger men to do it. Besides," she adds, "I wouldn't want to take all the glory."
"I will go. Catch a monkey, dodge a dozen spears. They both involve the same skills...and a little bit of crazy." N'bellocq performs a brief stretch and rolls his shoulders to limber up.
He will then step out into the hall, carefully listening for the sound of dry bones rattling. He will be thinking to dive ahead rather than back, in hopes of having a chance to help the others bypass this hall.
Qhude yields his position at point to N'bellocq with a stoic nod, and then stands ready with rope-wrapped polearm in case violent action becomes required.
N'bellocq moved down the corridor but the skeletons inside the firing holes seemed oblivious to his presence. He made it to the summoning circle and could see that the corridor led to the west and east; it appeared as though either direction led into a room rather than a corridor.
N'bellocq signals to the others that it is safe to cross. He will disappear from sight as he slides along the wall to the east and peers around the corner into the larger space.
Ansha watches tensely as N'bellocq makes it to the end of the corridor. After it becomes apparent that he is more-or-less safe, she breathes a sigh of relief and says quietly, "At least he's not dead."
The elven enchantress tentatively makes her way out into the hallway to follow after him. "Well, let's go. I don't really feel like getting separated down here."
As N'bellocq goes East, Qhude looks to the West - edging around the corner to see what lies behind. No attempt at stealth is made though - wagering that in the confined space their voices would have already carried far enough to betray their presence.
Perception: