"Gah! You oaf! Are you trying to kill us?" Izabelle rises to her feet, brushing herself down wildly. She remains rooted in spot, and it's clear from her expression that she is not happy. "Keep your clumsy fingers to yourself until we're done, or I might be tempted to cut them off and shove them down your throat!"
"And you -" Izabelle turns towards Gil, pointing at him with narrowed eyes. "You better not be wasting our time. Get over to that pit, if you're so keen. It had better be worth it."
Gil glared back at Izabelle, jutting his chin towards her. "Dont take that tone with me woman. You may be calling the shots presently, but do not start to get any ideas that that gives you free reign to talk to me that way."
He stepped forward to the edge of the pit, locking arms with Felrin and preparing to get lowered down. "And whether it is worth it or not, do not forget that you yourself agreed to it. Leadership isnt about pushing blame onto others for your own decisions. They call that something else." He paused a moment, trying to glean whether the wild woman knew what he meant "A tyrant."
Then he went down into the pit.
Felrin can't help but nod at Sabel's furious question to Twigs, but there are already enough voices raised in discord, so Fel keeps quiet during the druid's exchange with Gil. He simply stands ready to lower Gil into the pit.
When the music-less bard has locked his arm into Felrin's, Fel stands at the opposite edge of the pit from the engraving. He lowers Gil as far as he's able, to give him a better angle from which to see the engraving.
Numair involuntarily shivers as the cold mist wraps around him. [b]"Please be more careful in the future, Twigs. You're a thief; you should know better than anyone to thoroughly check those things out before just grabbing. And definitely hold on to them a little better."[/b[
Twigs pales at Sabel's threat, stammering speechlessly until she turnsh er gaze elsewhere. Cursing with tears in his eyes, Twigs tries to rub some life back into his frozen fingers. "Y... yeah. You got it, chief." he says, trembling, to Numair. He'll remain behind as the others lower themselves into the pit, sullenly scooping up the remains of the stone.
The wily rogue throws himself backwards when it's apparent the stone is going to hit the ground. Perhaps having anticipated something bad happening, he cowers behind Numair and manages to evade the majority of the mist. What little comes into contact with him has little to no effect. Thoroughly chastised by the druid, he looks to make amends and carefully picks up the largest remaining chunk of the stone (which is slightly less than half the original size... and rather unstable).
Meanwhile, at the east end of the room, Felrin lowers Giltharon into the pit where the half-elf notices two things. The first is that the spikes at the bottom of the pit aren't sharpened to points. The ends on them appear to be blunted so that anyone falling on them would have hurt themselves or broken a few bones... but likely not impaled themselves on the spikes. Two small pitons are squirreled away in a corner - likely to assist some unfortunate soul who blunders into the trap in climbing back out. Moving close to the writing, Giltharon notes it is in common and reads it.
"A tyrant?" Izabelle snorts derisively at Gil's comment. "Last I checked, tyranny is the domain of our Dark Patron. It is the right and natural state. Perhaps you should remember that the next time you start sermonizing like a Mitran preacher."
~~
The druidess stands with her arms folded and her foot impatiently tapping away as she waits for Gil to finish scouting out the pit. Anybody who so much as looks at her is met with an icy glare.
Malum jumps as Twigs drops the crystal.
"Twigs, I would strongly suggest you wipe the butter off your fingers before trying to pick up any additional 'shiny' objects that catch you eye!"
Motioning at Felrin to pull him back out, Gil quickly pocketed the pitons "better to have and not need..."
Safely back out, he dusted himself off and moved towards the secret door, glancing at Izabelle the whole way, listening to her speak. "A Mitran preacher, right." he said, sounding like the words had a bad taste in his mouth. "The abyss produces tyrants. Those that the Master, and by extension we, serve, the denizens of Hell...well, Id call them dictators instead."
Reaching the secret door, he motioned towards it, casting a quick spell which caused four lights to appear some 30 feet down the hallway
"But like you say, time is of the essence. Shall I go first again?"
"As you were." Gil's failure to mention the content of the writing is telling enough, and as he takes point once again, Izabelle speaks up.
"Take heed, boys. When your success relies on a timer, you can't be slowed down by every petty distraction. A good hunter takes note of every detail, but the one who allows them to cloud her vision... she goes hungry. Don't let the refuse pull you from the path."
Eager to move on, she gets everybody back into position.
"We don't know how deep this dungeon goes. Let's not waste any more time."
Felrin takes up his position behind Gil, mace in hand, eager to see what's beyond the hidden door. He keeps his eyes and ears open for more of Tiadora's clever surprises.
"Did the writing hold anything of value, Gil? Any words of wisdom from our Master, or just the taunts and slurs of his concubine?"
"I don't think that Tiadora is his concubine... she doesn't strike me as the type to be a kept woman. Maybe she is more like his dominatrix as she seems to like to inflict pain. Perhaps I'm just reading more into it than there is. She could be just like us, serving the Cardinal from a different contract. I'm just grateful that she isn't in our chain of command as it were."
Malum dusts off some of the frost that struck his arm. He seems none the worst for wear.
"I don't think that Tiadora is his concubine... she doesn't strike me as the type to be a kept woman. Maybe she is more like his dominatrix as she seems to like to inflict pain. Perhaps I'm just reading more into it than there is. She could be just like us, serving the Cardinal from a different contract. I'm just grateful that she isn't in our chain of command as it were."
Malum dusts off some of the frost that struck his arm. He seems none the worst for wear.
"Remind me to brush up on my sarcasm, my friend," Numair replies to Malum with a grin. "No, I don't think she's his concubine in a literal sense. But as she likes to watch us every moment, I thought it might be fun to rile her up a bit."
"A taunt it was indeed. But jokes on them, we were not deceived by it." Gil answered back in a hushed tone, stalking further down the hallway, eyes peeled for danger.
Giltharon leads everyone except Twigs out through the secret entrance he had discovered on the south side of the room. Twigs watches the group as he stands holding the unstable piece of cracked stone pondering how to best transport his dangerous possession.
Just outside the secret door, the half-elf spies another plaque at eye-level that reads Thou hast seen through the deception with clear vision. May it guide you in eternal service of Asmodeus.
The passageway heading out from the secret door twists around several sharp curves and corners. It narrows down to around 8 feet at one point before widening back to around 12 feet. The group estimates its walked about 50-60 feet when Numair notices his breath misting as he exhales. The temperature has grown noticeable cooler.
Turning yet another corner , Giltharon comes to a sudden stop in front of another wooden door. The now familiar plaque on the door reads “Following the herd is for fools. Fear not their icy derision. Instead, fear only thy Infernal Lord.”
Reaching the door, Gil looked back, looking almost bored. "More riddles?" he asked dryly. "Well whatever it means, theres no other way forth, unless ofcourse the previous plaque was a double cross."
With that, he grabbed the handle and eased it down gently, cracking the door open enough to peer inside.
It's cold and dark and gloomy. The nearest torch is about 10 feet behind the door in the passageway. Giltharon carefully checks the floor and edges surrounding the door to ensure there are no sudden surprises. Nodding once he has reassured himself the door poses no threat he grabs the handle and eases it down while pushing on the door to open it slowly.
The door refuses to budge initially forcing him to apply a bit more force. With a *crack* that seems rather loud in the hushed gloomy surroundings, the door gives way as tiny bits of ice chips tinkle on to the stone floor.
Beyond the door lies another room... you think. The interior is dark so not very many details can be made out unless the door is either opened fully (letting more light in) or someone sticks a light source past the door.
"Hmm, 'following the herd is for fools'... to me this would imply the next room has an 'obvious' exit. Which if this plaque is accurate is some sort of 'icy' trap. Or maybe I'm just reading too much into it."
"Or perhaps we are not to blindly just follow each other into the room? Gil, what are you able to see?"
"What is this cold?" Izabelle says, rubbing her hands together. "I've not met an unnatural chill such as this anywhere in Talingarde... Does anyone have a flame?"
"Well, lets see what we can see." Gil mumbled to himself, willing his Dancing Lights to fly into the room and spread out as far as the spell allowed. Then he opened the door a little more, to allow himself a better look.
Malum looks over at Izabelle "What cold? It seems perfectly fine to me."
Giltharon sends his lights southwards through the gap in the door. They spread out on the other side confirming his initial assumption that there is indeed a room beyond the door. Opening the door a bit more, he notices a chamber similar in size (roughly a square with each side about 30 feet in length) to the one the group left behind. The walls appear to be made of stone while the ground is covered in earthy dirt. Each wall has a wooden door in the center.
The southern door (roughly 30 feet away from the group) appears plain and totally unspectacular. The western door (roughly 14-15 feet away from the group) appears to be well-worn and almost ready to fall off its hinges. The eastern door (roughly 14-15 feet away from the group) appears to be covered in some blackish-violet moldy spores that appear to undulate in the gloomy light being cast by Giltharon's cantrip.
No pedestals or any other objects appear to be present from the half-elf's current vantage point.
Pushing the door fully open, Gil stalked inside the room, quickly moving to the center and looking around.
"Hmm, looks like the little riddle back there will tell us which door to take, they are all quite different. Maybe the well worn door is the one the "herd" went through?" he said in a hushed tone. Feeling uneasy in the strange coldness of the room, he drew his curve blade.
"Gil, my friend, do you see anything that might be causing the cold? This seems quite unnatural. If you'd like, I can scan for magic before we enter."
If given the room, Numair will stand at the door and scan the room with detect magic.
Giltharon walks to the center of the room and slowly spins around in a circle with his weapon drawn scanning for any potential threats. His breath misting around him almost makes him miss the small alcove built into the north wall behind the now open north door. Some small objects appear to be laying in the alcove...
Gil, my friend, do you see anything that might be causing the cold? This seems quite unnatural. If you'd like, I can scan for magic before we enter. says Numair as he stands in the doorway a couple feet away from the alcove. He mutters a few arcane words and looks about the room along with Giltharon but neither detect anything magical in the chamber.
Moving back towards the door he originally entered from, Giltharon cautiously approaches the alcove and notices three keys laying in an orderly fashion in the alcove. The metal one on the left appears to be worn and dented. The one on the right is fashioned out of what appears to be quartz or a material similar to quartz - almost identical to the 'diamond' Twigs tried to pocket earlier. However, this one glows softly with a warm reddish glow from within. The key in the middle appears to be made out of wood and appears quite ordinary.
Felrin sees Gil moving towards something near the door to take a closer look, and steps into the room to see what it is. He sees the keys and studies them for a moment, then suggests to Gil, "It seems pretty clear that each key is meant to go with a particular door. But which goes with which? Do we take the most obvious connections, like the old, beat-up key goes with the worn-out door to the west? Or is that a trap, is it what the 'herd' would do? Either way, let's put first things first and make sure just touching the keys won't give us an ugly surprise."
He waves his hand in the direction of the keys, sensing magic, in case Numair's scan from the door missed the alcove. He also takes a close look at each of the keys and the alcove, careful not to touch anything. If he finds nothing of interest, he repeats the same procedure with each of the doors.
Felrin pauses a moment in studying the alcove and says, "Hold on. I don't see anything much to worry about around the keys, but I think I see footprints from other visitors moving around here. Lots of traffic by the alcove, some going to the old door, less going to the plain door to the south, and none going east, to that door with the purply-black stuff growing on it. So I don't think we should go east, but let me take a closer look at the tracks and see what I can figure out."
He then turns his scrutiny to the dirt floor, using some of the skills that allowed him to survive for a century in a society that would kill him on sight for being who he is. He pays close attention to any marks on the floor, threads, buttons, anything that might have been dropped, in order to determine who has passed here and when.
Felrin crouches down to the dirt floor after announcing his discovery and starts examining the tracks closely. There appear to be at least a dozen or so different treads that lead to the worn out door and at least five different sets of footprints leading to the plain door.
The tracks appear to be made mostly by medium sized individuals although there are a couple of smaller footprints interspersed amongst the lot. Interestingly enough, all the tracks appear to lead out towards the two doors with none coming back the other way.
Just as Felrin is about to give up, he spies something protruding out of the floor near the south-west quadrant of the chamber. At first glance, it appears to be a couple of bumps in the dirt floor - small irregularities. Intrigued, he looks closer, brushing away some of the dirt and spies the rusted head of a mace half buried in the well-packed dirt. Beside it are the broken remains of what might have been a water skin at one time.
Felrin chooses to keep his distance from the door choosing discretion to be the better part of valor in this case as he scans the door and wall from a distance.. The only interesting thing about the eastern wall and door is the lack of any tracks going to the door. The violet-blackish moldy stuff covering the door seems to undulate in the little light thrown about the chamber by Giltharon's spell. It seems to be slightly thicker on the north side of the door than on the south side. The door handle lies on the south side of the door and the door swings inwards into the room.
"Felrin, can you identify what kind of mold or fungus that is?"
Felrin lifts his head as he studies the tracks on the ground, responding to Malum, "I know little of such things, but perhaps our more...woodsy leader has some idea? Iz, do you know what this stuff is?
Looking at the keys, Gil wondered aloud. "This key here..." he said, pointing to the softly glowing quartz key. "It glows red, where the other one glowed blue. The blue one held a frozen trap within. I would not be surprised if this one holds fire." He crossed his arms in contemplation. "I would not be surprised if we are supposed to use it to defeat the cold in this room."
Turning, he walked up besides Felrin, stood across the room inspecting the mold. Reaching out a cautious hand, he tried to discern if the cold was coming from the strange growth.
"I would think this eastern door should be our focus, especially as our warning earlier mentioned, 'not following the herd'. As no tracks go to that door, selecting it would be not following, I think?"
Looking at the mold thing, Numair adds, "I apologize, but my knowledge of the natural side of things is also a bit limited. However, if the cold is indeed coming from it, the second part of our message says to 'fear not their icy derision'. Perhaps with the correct key, we can proceed with fear."
A considering look enters Felrin's eyes at Numair's suggestion. "Perhaps you're right, that we should go where others have not, based on those messages. The first one, especially, seems pretty clear. I'm game to open the door, though it would help to know all we can about what the moldy stuff might be."
Everyone gathers around Felrin debating what the pulsating moldy thing covering the east door could be ...I would not be surprised if we are supposed to use it to defeat the cold in this room Giltharon finishes saying as he reaches out a cautious hand towards the mold.
The pulsations appear to become stronger and almost eager as the half-elf reaches out towards the strange substance. Suddenly his hand feels as if its on fire... a numbing cold fire as he feels his body heat being drained from his finger tips. Tiny crystals form on his hand within seconds as he withdraws his hand in shock, rubbing it vigorously to restore some feeling into his frostbitten fingers.
The moldy thing's pulsations go back to normal almost sullenly as Giltharon's hand is withdrawn.
"Well now that is one 'cold shoulder' kind of mold. I suppose we could light it up, but it seems to react to body heat, so I'm not sure what will happen when we apply fire to it."
"Hmm, you're right, Malum," Felrin says. "It could be that it's vulnerable to fire, but it could also be that it needs heat to grow, so it went after Gil. I wonder if there's some other way we could hurt it, from a distance. How about a different kind of burn? Step back a bit, all."
Once Gil and any others near the door have moved away, Felrin stands in the center of the room and raises a closed fist. When he slowly opens his hand, there's a dripping glob of viscous, yellow goo in it, which he lobs at the door.
"Be careful agitating it." Izabelle says, raising a sleeve in front of her face. "We don't want it spewing poisonous spores everywhere. I've seen men die from a less than a lungful of tainted air."
Felrin flings the glob of acidic corrosive goo at the door and stands back waiting to see the effects on the mold. The corrosive acid sizzles through the mold leaving a smear across the door. Tiny wisps of smoke arise from the surface of the door as the corrosive goo interacts with the wood until the acid is vaporized. Within moments, the mold eagerly re-spreads across the exposed surface, even thicker than before.
Studying the mold with a sort of morbid curiosity, even as his hand was still numbed by it, Gil turned to look at Twigs. "Hmmm, it seems to seek heat. Maybe if we hit it with cold instead? It would be the "herd mentality" to try to fight cold with fire. Maybe we should fighter cold with cold?"
"That makes sense." the druidess says through her sleeve. "If it feeds on warmth, then naturally cold is its enemy. Where's that fool Twigs gone with the crystal?"
"I agree. Cold is the most logical form of attack. Unfortunately, our dexterous friend destroyed much of that crystal. We should help him transport what's left. Hopefully, it's enough to bypass this hazard."
Numair retreats to the previous room to see what the rogue is up to. "Twigs, we need whatever is left of that crystal to get past a door in the next room. How much is left?" Numair will try and assist him as best as possible in safely transporting it to the mold.