Artemus, fully prepared, will go in first, followed by Nilfyr who hopes that the scent will go with age one way or another.
Art feels some effects from the power of the chamber, but arrives at the end of the time vortex relatively unscathed.
Nilfyr, despite the magical protections, is affected twice by the time passage.
Both see at the end of the vortex a distorted image of man in red robes looking at them with a bit of surprise. He speaks in Azlanti to the Pathfinders. "Hrmmm... you are not my former master. What chose you to dare time itself to see the presence of the once great Togarin?"
Togarin was noted as one of Nhur Athemon's apprentices who turned against their master... and was punished by being stuck in a time locked floor of the Thornkeep dungeon. When the Pathfinders freed themselves by breaking the time lock in Thornkeep, it was rumored that his attempt at lichdom had led him to survive the rapid aging of being subjected to over 10,000 years of time in a single moment.
Togarin manages to reply in an older form of elven, one such that some of the verbs and pronouns used are beyond Nilfyr's understanding. "A phyalctery? So -isk- also sought undeath as a way to live on in these strange environments. Nhur -gaelour- several demons and even those from beyond the realms in his quest for knowledge to form his vision of -kvalik- Azlant."
Togarin looks puzzled for a few seconds, until a bemused smile creeks along his distorted face. "Nhur always did say that -isk- would never stop his efforts unless his heart was ripped out of his beating chest. And the man did have a cruel sense of humor, as you can tell by my current state."
"Ah, you do look more enlightened than this one here. Even in my current state, I can still sense your magical power."
"A phyalctery? So he also sought undeath as a way to live on in these strange environments. Nhur worshipped several demons and even those from beyond the realms in his quest for knowledge to form his vision of new Azlant. Nhur always did say that he would never stop his efforts unless his heart was ripped out of his beating chest. And the man did have a cruel sense of humor, as you can tell by my current state."
"There is nothing that can be done for me. But having Nhur Athemon fail in his efforts to raise a new Azlant will bring me what joy I can here."
"Unfortunately, I have not seen him in who knows how many centuries. "
The two mull over the idea of the phylactery's location as they return to the party, sharing their findings.
With not much else initially coming to mind, the group decides to clear out the rest of the location.
The dinosaur and Nilfyr approach the curtain first, ready in case something pops out. However, their first steps onto the steps leading to the curtain are eventful as a demonic symbol flashes on the steps before a rainbow waves of lights fills the area of the steps.
That was the unholy symbol of Abraxas, a demon lord of knowledge and secrets.
Both of them immediately back up, but a pair of of red rays of light strike them, causing a fiery sensation. However, their prior protections negate the harm.
That was a prismatic spray, and a powerful one cast by a highly competent caster.
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Art easily recognizes the symbol as that of Abraxas, a demon lord of knowledge and secrets and tells the group.
Recognizing the spell he says Luck is with us. That spell could have done much worse to you than bathe you in an energy that we were prepared for. It could have turned you to stone or sent you to another plane or caused insanity.
The party makes their way forward, moving the curtain, but the sight before them is almost mind-boggling within the depths of this dungeon.
A slim platform juts out into the center of a huge circular shaft that seems to drop off into nowhere and stretch far above into darkness. A sense of gloom and oppression permeates the room. Although conditions are calm upon the platform, the sounds of howling winds pervade the chamber.
Nilfyr's coin falls for what seems to be about 50 feet until it simply disappears. Not even just fall outside of scope, but as if the blackness surrounding the platform swallows it whole, leaving nothing of his lucky copper coin.
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Casting Detect Magic, Art studies the room hoping to note traps, magics, or mechanical devices. We have an hour before that trap resets. Seems simple enough to fly in but that sound of wind makes me wonder how safe that would be. This almost seems like an elevator shaft. If it is I wonder how to call the lift.
Artemus' magic finds that there is a divination aura coming from the platform ahead, but the readings are odd. If he had to guess, there seems to be some extra-planar connection to it, but he cannot identify what is this source or cause.
From the back of the hallway leading to the chamber, he cannot find anything else noteworthy.
Artemus prepares himself and moves towards the platform. As he does, the party hears the howling wind now sounds like hundreds of hissing snakes. A sibilant voice echoes through the chamber. "Have you come to kill my servant Nhur Athemon?", it asks, and Artemus feels a weight pressing against his heart, perhaps his soul, as a presence seems to be looming, awaiting an answer.
"That ignorant moron, being bested in what he thought was his prime. But that is a start to a fitting demonstration to remind him of all the power I granted him. As I raised him up, so can I arrange to see him fully destroyed."
The deep voice chuckles after Artemus mentions the phylactery. [b]"Why, you already have it, his mechanical heart that he playfully toyed with since his conversion to unlife. Bring the head from his body and the heart and cast them into the winds of my real, and I shall grant you a wish.
"And should I answer the call to one who fears my presence, but I am called Abraxas, Master of the Final Incantation, Prince of Forbidden Lore. You might think of me as a demon."
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Artemus Jarm knows of this demon lord and knows, like all of his kind, he cannot be trusted. Once outside and alone with his party he will confer. What this demon lord prescribes will likely destroy the phylactery as I believe his to reward failure with such, but it could do otherwise, even returning the lich to unlife. As for the wish, of course I am tempted to get such a boon from one so old and powerful and well versed in arcane lore. But I would trust such a wish even less than his instructions. What are your thoughts? If we accept such a wish it must be well thought out and not selfish in any way. I have my doubts as I do not believe I am intelligent enough to out-think a demon lord in such matters. Perhaps we can destroy the phylactery ourselves.
After some thought, given what both Tolgarin and Abraxas has told the party, Artemus deduces that it is likely the metallic heart you retrieved from the statue in the central chamber of this floor. Unfortunately, his previous analysis didn't find anything as far as conventional means of destroying the metallic heart on its own.
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Nilfyr retrieves the metallic heart from his sack, and with the head that Artemus retrieves, he kicks both into the empty void which immediately is whisked away by a cold wind. A soft 'Noooooooo....' can be heard briefly before it is silenced in the void.
The dark voice of Abraxas once again reaches the Artemus' ears. "Now that I can teach Nhur's soul what his faults with losing faith in his patron, what is it that you desire, mortal?"
Artemus, thinking of every possible scenario that Abraxus could do to ruin anything he could wish for, chooses to abstain, courteously.
"You are either foolish to turn down such a gift or insult me that what I would offer is not good enough for you. I will remember this."
The voice disappears, the only audible sound being the howling wind.
The party, seemingly ignoring Abraxas' threat, returns to the throne room. Once again pushing the button on the underside of the throne, a set of stairs are revealed which descend deeper into the ancient site. The group makes their way down for about 1,000 feet before resting and continuing down.
The walls and flooring become smooth now, with glowing circuitry of golden wire illuminating the space. The corridor past the stairs is ringed in glowing, shattered red glass set into the walls. Beyond lies a wide, rectangular chamber studded with ten-foot-high black cylinders rising out of the floor. Each is joined to a smaller pole by a plate of transparent crystal inset with silver wires. The floor is inlaid with a bewildering array of geometric shapes and gold wires in straight lines and precise angles.
Inside the chamber ahead a pair of centaur-like beings, clockwork wings sprouted from their back and their arms ending in whip-like chains. Acknowledging the party's entrance, they speak together in unison. "Halt. Step any further and we will be forced to interrogate you.", both extending their chain arms towards the party.
The centaur-ish beings, seemingly satisfied with the party staying where they are, step back into their original positions with a watchful eye towards the potential interlopers.