"Nevermind, I thought I had an idea but I've never read anything about anything like this in any of the Absalomian libraries. Best guess is it's a Numerian God."
Frizz hisses under her breathe as she steps forward, drawing out her shortsword. She cautiously lays it on the floor glancing up and examining the other offerings and the contraption itself before letting it go.
Wymond lays his spare sword on the floor as well.
The two swords flutter, skip and then skitter across the floor, eventually accelerating into the air and slamming into the Godbox with a pair of hard clicks.
Frizz brow furrows in frustration since she can't quite make this thing out.
"Mister Slaagh, could I go up and worship a little closer?"
She begins removing anything else metal from her person and offers it to the party to hold.
Looking Wymond up and down, she says:
"Uhhh... I don't think you should be worshipping too close. But Mister Perfire, Miss Lilika, do you want to come hail the skraa-orm with me?"
Frizz brow furrows in frustration since she can't quite make this thing out.
"Mister Slaagh, could I go up and worship a little closer?"
She begins removing anything else metal from her person and offers it to the party to hold.
Looking Wymond up and down, she says:
"Uhhh... I don't think you should be worshipping too close. But Mister Perfire, Miss Lilika, do you want to come hail the skraa-orm with me?"
"Think yer right, Frizz. I'll hold yer stuff," Wymond says, accepting Frizz's gear.
Slaagh nods his assent. "Be sure you carry no offerings with you. That can be dangerous."
"Thanks for the heads-up," Wymond says as he holds on to Frizz's gear.
Lilika shakes her head uncomfortably, wanting no part in the strange box that coveted metal...
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Perfire nods and thinks for a moment. Reaching under his shirt he withdraws the iron ring that marked him as a slave for so many years from. 'I have a personal offering for the god.' He unshoulder his backpack and follows Frizz towards the contraption. When the ring lifts and begins to pull on it's strip of leather towards the God, he releases it and watches it sail towards the sphere.
Whang! The ring sails across the room and slams into the Godbox with a solid thump.
Frizz proceeds forward, walking all around the device. Trying to decipher it’s mechanisms.
First of all, Frizz is convinced that the offerings adhering to the Godbox are collectively worth a small fortune. She'd bet her lucky backpack that several of them are magical.
The machine itself is impossible to decipher. It appears to be nothing more than a box. Frizz intuits that this may be just part of the machine, while the rest is elsewhere - in the walls or floor perhaps.
But what she does notice is that each of the hexagonal sides of the Godbox has a slit in it. Each slit is about four inches tall and just under three feet wide. She also notices that the coppery metal of the Godbox is a match for the six metal doors she's seen on this level of the Spire.
Skipping back to the party, Frizz says.
"GuysGuysGuysGuys,I'veGotAnIdeaAndIThinkWeShouldTryIt!"
Pausing in front of the group, she takes a deep breath and continues.
"What if we made the ultimate sacrifice to skraa-orm?!? What if we sacrificed... bum, bum, bum! the doors!?!?"
She points at the doors visible in this room.
"IMeanHowCoolWouldThatBe,AndIBetYou,Slaagh,NeverThoughtOfIt.AndWhatIfIt'sAS tarstoneAndWeCanAllAscendTogether..."
She continues to ramble about all the possibilities.
Wymond blinks in shock.
"Uh...are ye sure? Copper ain't attracted te lodestones."
WhatIfIt'sAS tarstoneAndWeCanAllAscendTogether
'Will you let us try a new form of worship?' Perfire asks Slaagh. 'It might open up new blessings from your god'
Slaagh makes a motion with his body. It might be a shrug. You're not sure.
"What do you mean? The god requires offerings. It wants nothing else."
Intrigued by Frizz's excitement, Lilika asks, "Does that mean you'll allow us to offer it the doors?"
"I know about copper and lodestones, thereWasABookOnceThatIReadAboutVariousMetals -- -- We don't need the doors to stick. I think we stick the doors into the skraa-orm's mouth, like we're feeding it. See, if you look really really close you can see holes -- err -- mouths on the god-box."
Frizz tries to point out the holes, then grabs her chin as she begins sizing up the door the party just came through.
The doors look absolutely massive. They must weigh half a ton each. Two large hinge pins are part of the casting, and they rest within sockets anchored into the stone doorways.
"Um," says Slaagh. "Maybe? Why? The god only wants iron metal."
Wymond is as confused as Slaagh is.
"I'd like te know that as well...seems a big ask fer our hosts."
"I doubt we can lift those," Lilika says to Frizz.
"Well, if ya look at those holes on the god-box. It's approximately the size of your standard door width, which is about 36in. And tall enough for the door as well. And the number of holes is the same as the numbers of doors. Co-in-ci-dence?! I don't think so. IThinkIfWeFeedTheDoorsToTheGodThenMaybeIt'llBeFreeOrSomethingAndIfIWasAGodI 'dWantToBeFreeToo."
Frizz shrugs.
"Just a thought. Or we can just keep moving along. Speaking of... Slaagh is there another way out of this place?"
Wymond raises an eyebrow.
"Those doors'd take a lot of effort te move. I'm pretty brawny, but I'd need some other strong folks te help. An' we'd probably want Savisk te agree with it. She's the leader of this community after all."
Lilika eyes the box, then sighs. "I can help. As long as our hosts don't mind."
"Weeeee!"
Frizz gives a skip and a clap as she comes up to Wymond and relieves him of her items.
"Shall we go talk to Savisk?!"
Frizz slides her feet in a slow side shuffle away from the party, lifting her eyebrows repeatedly, as if to ask "Are you coming?".
Slaagh looks nervous as he begins to lose of control of what is normally a fairly smooth process. Get the iron offering for the god, let the surface-dwellers pass on, never to return.
As Frizz and party approach the priestess... you only know she's a she because Slaagh used that pronoun... the stench of the lizard ruler is sharp and acrid.
Perfire finally succumbs to the smell of the creatures. He stops short of meeting with the priestess, retching a polite distance away.
Frizz skips happily up to the priestess.
”Hi! I’m Frizz and I want to feed your doors to the god box!”
Wymond bows to Savisk, again seemingly unfazed by the smell of the locals.
"Hail te ye, High Priestess Savisk. I 'pologize fer my friend's...pushiness, but she's curious and excitable. She's sayin' that the copper doors around yer community appear te be pieces of the skraa-orm thagh, an' that if we put 'em together, the god'd be whole. Or, well, more whole than it is now."
Slaagh translates... or says something... to the xulgath priestess, who scowls... or smiles... it is very hard to tell the difference. The two hiss and gargle at each other for nearly a minute, all the while Savisk's eyes hold Wymond's.
Finally, Slaagh looks back at you. "The High One is curious... Why do you want to do this? The god has never demanded this, but she can see that what you say might be intended."
"To do what's never been done before! I can write it all down too! I don't think I've ever heard about any god like this one before, people will want to hear about it. Why wouldn't we want it to be whole and complete? What if it unlocks even more godly powers?! And it would make such a cool story!"
Lilika resists the urge to raise an eyebrow at the excitable gnome's explanation, instead keeping her face serious to lend weight to their random whims insightful observation.
"Well, this here's yer home, it's yer god, so it's yer decision. Whatever that decision may be, I'll respect it an' make sure my friends do too," Wymond says, side-eyeing Frizz a little at that last part. "And there's a strong chance that this could empower yer god so it can do more for ye. Right now it mostly just gives ye food an' water, an' it had the power te bring ye here. What else might it capable of? How else might it be able te help yer people?"
"And if it offends the god," Slaagh translates for Savisk, "How will we make amends? What you ask is dangerous."
Savisk gazes from Wymond to the great machine and back. "You may try, human. But if the god is angered, the people will hold you responsible. All of you."
Wymond nods and looks at Frisk with concern.
"Ye sure about this? Yer proposal does kinda put these people 'ere at risk, not just us."
Lilika likewise turns to Frizz, silently asking with her eyes, 'You sure?'
Perfire attempts to quietly retch in the background.
Frizz is taken aback by the question of safety. Her shoulders hunch a bit, hangs wringing, she contemplates the decision...
A look of determination washes over her and she puts her shoulders back proclaiming:
"I've never been more sure of anything! And if anything goes wrong, we can just fix it, right? If we're to document the Spire, then let's make sure we leave no stone unturned and no god-box unfilled of doors!"
Wymond sighs.
"Alright...but ye can't say we weren't warned if'n this goes south."
He rubs his hands together and moves towards the nearest door, sizing it up and wondering how many of them it'll take to move it.
Turns out it takes all four of you to move even one of the immensely heavy cast...whatever it is... doors. You manage to haul one off its hinge pins and laboriously drag it over to the room of the Godbox. Wymond (and anyone else with metal on them) can feel the tug of the machine. How will you get close enough without getting stuck?
Perfire heaves under the stress of trying to carry his share of the weight. 'I told you... to pivot.' He looks to some of the more curious troglodytes watching the proceedings, 'Do you think we could convince them to help?'
Frizz blows a puff of air up from her lips to brush away some stray hairs. They stick to the sweat on her forehead. She huffs and puffs out a few words.
"Maybe we can.. chat with them... while Wymond... disarmors..."
ThisFrigginDoorBetterBeFrigginWorthIt.IDidn'tThinkIt'dBeSoFrigginHeavy.
Lilika makes sure to set all of her metal equipment aside before approaching the god box. When the time comes, she helps hoist the door up, groaning with effort, and slowly hauls it over to stick it in the slot.
"There's... how many...?" she grunts to her companions as they haul the absurdly heavy doors...
Wymond sighs.
"Alright...I'll take off my armor..."
He goes to another corner and removes it before returning to the group to move the door.