The evil aura is still there, unchanged from the night before.
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Dont worry Torvic. I'll heat you up! says Fimbir. He stays close to the dwarf, occasionally snapping his small fingers and producing warm licks of flame to sooth the dwarf as they head towards that valley he mentioned.
Stay in the back. We'll handle things and figure out what's going on, but props Lu best you're not alone for a bit.
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Mutahir's eyes rarely leave the dwarf.
Just so that my opinion is out there, so long as that curse is on his mind, he should be kept in manacles. I have some, and they are relatively comfortable. That would of course, only be with Torvic's permission... I am no slaver.
He spits out the last word and says a oath almost like someone warding off evil.
But I understand if not. You will have to forgive my distrust Torvic... One does not reach my station by being very trusting, especially of those affected by evil magicks.
Either way, he to agrees to had to the valley and goes with the group, though he tries to position himself where he can watch the dwarf at all times.
Dynath, you are not familiar with this part of the Aspodells at all... at least not enough to know what's west... or northwest for that matter.
Eventually, you decide to see if Torvic's memory has at least enough still intact to locate the Gallery he claims to have found.
The going is slow, there are few, if any trails of any sort, and the confused dwarf stopping at every branch and intersection, looking both one way then the other, wracking his brain trying to recall which way to go. Picking one, then changing his mind, then reversing course, until he finally goes a particular direction, always hesitantly sure it's the right one. The worst was, after spending more than an hour working you way up a steep rocky incline, he suddenly stopped, looking around, and decided it was all wrong.... then made go back down, and go a different direction.
Still, there does prove to be another narrow valley in the direction he chose... though it turns out to be more north, then west. It is well past noon by the time you reach it. From there, his directions prove little better, down one slope, up another ravine, over and over... seemingly totally at random, none of them going in any consistent direction. You are starting to wonder if you're ever going to find it, much less before the sun disappears behind the peaks to the west.
Eventually, you find yourselves traveling along a extremely narrow ledge, looking down into a slightly less narrow crevasse. You've been picking your way along it for some time hoping it leads somewhere. The route made all the more harrowing as bits rubble and stone periodically tumble down from above, or break off when you step too near the edge.
Torvic seems more animated then he has been all done. "Yes. Yes." He cries, pointing. "This is it, I'm sure this is it."
"I think this is it..." He adds, muttering.
Nothing much has changed to merit his excitement, other then the ledge perhaps getting a little steeper... though you do start to notice small colonies of fungus sprouting up at the bottom of the crevasse below, despite the cold.
After another half hour or so, the ledge starts to become more stable, and you quickly realize it has the definite appearance of worked stone... though worked stone that has not seen any maintenance in almost two and a half centuries. Torvic seems to be getting even more excited as you go.
The cliff walls to your left are smooth and you start to see wide panels of dwarven art and intricately carved bas-reliefs etched on them, worn down by time and the elements, but still clearly discernible. Below you, the fungus has gotten more varied and thicker the further you've gone, until the crevasse, almost sixty feet below you, is choked in them... though none has worked its way up the sides to the ledge you follow, clearly only able to sustain itself in the dark depths of the cut.
Eventually, the ledge itself seems to come to an end. One minute you're following the worked path, looking at the artwork along the cliff wall, the next the trail ends at a solid rock wall. The bas-reliefs on the cliff wall, depict a regal-looking dwarf wearing a crown and kneeling before another dwarf wearing an artisan's apron, while the wall before you shows only row upon row of dwarven runes.
The runes in front are all various phrases praising the glory of art and craftsmanship in dwarven verse.
Your keen senses also notice that five of the runes look like they're designed to be pressed inwards.
Those particular runes represent: Found, Kings, Glory, Art, and Support
"This is it! This is!" Torvic crows. "I found it! I knew I'd remember. This is where we went in!"
He stops suddenly, frowning in confusion. "We?"
You also note that it appears five of the runes on the wall, are designed to be depressed.
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There you go Torvic! Fimbir says excitedly as they reach the door. We couldn't have found it without you!
Trying to be supportive, he then stares closely at the carvings and writing on the wall before turning back to the dwarf with a smile. Hey, what do those things say? They looks really nice. And old.
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Daedîn ponders for a bit. "Those runes can be pressed, like buttons...I'd imagine it's a code that might open the entrance. I know not in what order they should be pressed though..."
The wall in front of us is designed to move...as is the cliff wall...whether they be doors or traps, I also know not..."
Torvic looks confused at Tad's question, then looks back at the door.
"Open it? It must open, yes. I was inside. I'm sure I was inside." He seems to be having a hard time working out exactly how he managed it, and nods excitedly at Dynath's words.
"Yes. The glory of art! Triongger was a craftsman. That must have been it. A door. A lock. I'm sure it was the runes." He looks at them unable to tell more. "It's all so familiar."
He frowns, and pulls the pearl out of a side pocket. "But we didn't have this..."
He stops as he says 'We' again. "I don't think I was alone..." He looks up, as if remembering for the first time. "There were others... two? No! Three! There were three others."
"But where are they?" His momentary excitement at remember he had companions when he got here the first time, is quickly wiped out by the realization that none of them made it out with him. He gets distracted trying to remember names, though can not.
Meanwhile, Dynath is examining the runes more closely, though can not tell if any of them are any different than the others, other than the word represented by the symbol on each.
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Mutahir looks at the doors, muttering outloud.
It stands to reason that Torvic had a adventuring party with him. Considering their current absence, we should consider them MIA with a distinct possibility of KIA.
He stops at the one for "Art".
You said the creator, Triongger, was a Craftsman eh? "The Glory of Art?
He reaches out and presses the rune for Glory, then Art.
Mutahir reaches up and pressed Glory and Art, both runes depress easily, with a faint sound of stone sliding on stone. When nothing immediately happens, Fimbir follows that by pressing Found, King, and Support.
As he pushes the last one, there is a almost imperceptible thunking sound, then a moment later, all five reset, with no apparent effect.
When you examine the bas-relief, you do notice that the crown on the kneeling figure, has a small round indentation, where it looks like something used to be seated.
Torvic will hand over the pearl.
"We didn't have it." He mutters, confused. "But I'm sure we got in."
The pearl fits into the setting on the crown almost like it was designed to go there. Though nothing unusual happens when it does.
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Fimbir's excited expression falls a bit when placing the pearl into the relief doesn't trigger the door to open, or much else, but seeing the elf contiue to press runes he scrunches up his face and thinks aloud
"Perhaps we should try 'the Glory of Kings' first...and go from there..."
He'll press 'Glory' and then 'Kings'...
"Which one next?"
The Glory of Kings...Found Artists they Supported? Like the had their favorite 'Royal Potter' or 'Official Painter of the Court'? Or maybe they Supported Found Art: were old dwarves big beachcombers?
As Daedîn and Fimbir continue trying to puzzle out what the appropriate combination of runes might be, Dynath turns and encourages Torvic to recall what he used on his previous visit.
The fact that he can't remember seems to upset Torvic, "I must have known it." He sobs. "Right? I know we got inside. I... I think we got inside..."
"But I don't remember how." He seems to be frustrated by the whole thing. "How can I not remember something like that?"
"It all sounds so familiar. Maybe I wrote it down? Maybe? I keep good notes." He glances down at himself, then throws up his hands in frustration, cursing.. "But I don't know where those are either."
You do recall receiving a number of scrolls and parchments from the Head Librarian back in Almas... all of which were part of the stash that Beggar supposedly stole from Torvic along with the pearl. Most of them were written in dwarven runes, and could very well be the research notes Torvic's referring to now, or some of them anyway.
Dynath is about to bring it up, when he and Torvic are interrupted by a triumphant exclamation behind them, and the sudden sound of stone grinding against stone!
Apparently, the latest sequence of runes that Daedîn pressed, at Fimbir's suggestion: Glory, Kings, Found, Art, and Support, did the trick! The entire southern wall is slowly receding into the mountainside, revealing a dark passage beyond that runs off to the east, deeper into the mountain.
A foul, fetid, musty smell greets your noses.
Looking in the entry revealed by receding stone wall, you see a narrow passage leading about twenty five feet to the east, before opening up into a room with a faint unwholesome blueish glow. On the left, about half way along, is a solid stone door. The vaulted ceiling of the corridor reaches nearly twelve feet overhead and the walls are all limestone, inlaid with black marble that contrasts with that native stone to create what was probably once quite the aesthetic. The walls on both sides are adorned with numerous interlaced knotwork designs and bas-relief images of what you can only guess represent various scenes from dwarven history, folklore, or myth.
Unfortunately, where they might have once stood out as wondrous examples of dwarven art, they are now covered in patches of fungus, lichen deposits, and molds of all sorts. The floors as far as you can see are covered in a nauseating wonderland of giant fungi, varying in size from a few inches to some taller then you as you go further in. There appears to be a narrow footpath winding its way through the fungi, though who or what tread this way to create it, you can't quite tell. The floor is slippery and choked with organic matter.
The air is full of small wisps that seem suspended in the air of their own accord, and waft gently with the slightest of disturbances. You can only guess they are spores from the myriad of fungi. Not thick enough to block the light, they do seem to diffuse it slightly, creating a vague otherworldly dream-like effect as you work your way in.
Dynath has seen many types of fungi over the years... and most of them seem to be represented here, in one variety or other.
But, from those he can see from where he is, they do not appear to be of a variety that is harmful to humanoids... at least not without extended exposure or ingestion.
Though none of that makes the thought of breathing in spores any less unpleasant.
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Mutahir stays mostly silent as the others comment on the fungus, though he quickly pulls the scarf about his neck higher up... it worked for sand, perhaps it would work for fungus. He draws his blade and looks to the door, waiting for those with more... trap related experience to give the all clear.
The door is not locked, but does not open easily. Fimbir tugs on it for a while, before one of the larger Pathfinders steps in to help, and together you manage to drag it open, bits of fungi breaking off and smashing as you do, kicking up more of the spores in the air.
On the far side, you see the massive wheels and gears of a large mechanical device, filling almost the entire room.
After a little mental calculation, you figure it would probably do a pretty good job of pushing anyone standing on the ledge on the far side off into the crevasse. Though you're not entirely sure what would trigger it, since it did not activate while you were out there.
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Daedîn looks over the mechanical device...
"Ahhh...this was a trap to push any on the ledge into the crevasse. I'm guessing after a set number of wrong combinations of runes, and down you go...glad it wasn't just one..."
Daedîn, seeing Mutahir draw his scarf around his face, nods and does likewise...he then draws his bow and moves further into the cavern...
Leaving the strange mechanical device, the Pathfinders head back out into the main hall, and start following the winding path through the fungus patches to the east into the room at the end of the entry hall.
This room seems like more of the same, except for what you think might have once been a glorious fountain against the southern wall, now choked with mushrooms, like some sort of giant fungus planter.
Tad starts sampling some of the plants, seemingly at random, his little frog-like tongue darting out and snapping bits off, before pulling them back into his mouth.
A wide stone hallway, leads off to the northeast going as far as your light sources can pierce the darkness. A similar, much shorter hall also heads the opposite direction, before turning sharply to the left. Both of them clogged with fungus and molds, making footing somewhat treacherous.
Using Fimbir's entirely well-reasoned thought processes, you follow the longer hallway to the left, moving slowly along, occasionally brushing at the bits of spores floating in the air as they kick up around you.
You don't go too far, before you notice a massive set of double doors about sixty feet along the passageway to the right, and by the time you reach them, you can make out a second set of doors about thirty feet further along, on the left.