Ratchet watches a rigid Bydan drift to the ground and can't help but chuckle at the situation before he moves forward to check on him.
"Looks like he's alright, just stiffened up. I guess we wait a bit to see if it wears off. If he's still a statue in a few hours, we head back and see if a priest or that creepy potion-maker can help us out."
Erethyn watched in dismay, as Byden floated down slowly, unmoving and not responding all the while. He was relieved however when he saw that he was still alive.
"That sounds like a good idea. I don't know what caused this but when he recovers, we can ask him what happened."
Once he regains the ability to speak Byden groans,
"The eyes of this big stone face went all swirly with color and then it started blowing up a wind that knocked me back. Not sure what triggered it exactly, but I could make out some marks on the floor, maybe someone tried to resist and managed to avoid getting paralyzed by the whirling eyes?"
Ratchet's brows furrowed. "What colors?"
Byden shrugs,
"Uh, like a swirly rainbow?"
Ratchet pinches the bridge of his wide nose in exasperation.
"Look, all them lanterns are a deffern't color. There's a swirly color trap up there. Might be connected. Ah got an experiment t' try."
Ratchet starts lighting the lanterns, including the one they had retrieved from below.
"Since ye got that ring and ain't gonna fall down the shaft, head back up an' check them colors again. See if'n there's anythin' differn't."
"Normally, I could be of more aid in this situation, but for the moment all I suggest to you is to shield your eyes from the colors. It may help."
Ratchet lights all the lanterns in their respective alcoves. The multi-coloured lights reflect off of the glass chips in the ceiling, causing a disorientating prismatic swirl of colours. When the last lantern is lit, the soft rasp of stone against stone can be heard from somewhere above you.
"Who wants t' bet that did it?" Ratchet says looking a little smug.
"I suspect you are correct about this one, so no bet from me. Let's get up there."
"Aye, I don't doubt you are right, I'll give it a go, I'm already wearing the ring afterall..." So saying Byden makes the ascent again and attempts to reach the face.
When Byden investigates the wind tunnel with the carved face, he sees that there is now a open door in its mouth that leads to another chamber.
"He ain't come driftin' back down 'ere yet, so I'm guessin' it worked."
Ratchet makes his way up the rope to join Bydar.
Once Robillard had ascended up the rope, Erethyn tied himself on the rope and followed.
As he reached the top he took a moment to look around, making sure to not look down and pointedly headed over to the door.
"Well it looks clear for the moment, let's head in." He cast a simple light spell on his shield and held it out in front of him before walking forward.
Peering through the gaping mouth at the end of the hallway, you see a long, dark room with no floor. A three-foot-wide beam of petrified wood spans the chasm, leading straight ahead into darkness. About ten feet below the beam, countless clay balls the size of oranges form an irregular floor, but it is impossible to tell if they represent a wholly solid surface. The walls to either side of the beam are covered in a honeycomb of geometric patterns and the featureless stone ceiling extends about 20' above the beam
"This... don't look pleasant." Ratchet says through squinted eyes.
"Elf, c'n ye make this quarrel glow?" Ratchet says holding up a crossbow bolt.
Erethyn looked around the room carefully trying to make sense of everything he was seeing but his attention was pulled away as Ratchet spoke.
"Hmm, oh yes. I can do that for you."
The bolt was odd. All metal with a chisel tip, thick rear-facing protrusions and a metal loop on the back end with three free-spinning bearings on it.
He took a moment to mount a spool of twine to the back end of his crossbow and run the twine through the loop on the odd crossbow bolt.
He brought his crossbow up and fired. The glowing bolt sped into the dark trailing the line of twine.
Ratchet fires the glowing bolt out into the darkness and it connects with far wall, some 60 or so feet away, with a metallic tink. It illuminates an intricately wrought iron door on the far end of the beam.
Now the end of the twine was in his hand, it ran to the bolt, through the loop, and back to the spool anchored on his crossbow.
Taking a minute, he splices the end of the twine twine to his lightweight silk rope. Then, with an ingenious bit of mechanization, he snaps the spool onto the crank of his crossbow and twine back in on it's spool.
The process of reeling in the twine drags the silk rope neatly along the petrified beam and up through the loop on the back of the bolt.
A short while later the heavier and stronger silk rope was attached to the bolt. He quickly anchored it to a piton on this side and said "There. Safety line. Let me go first an' secure the other end t' somehtin' better'n a crossbow bolt."
Rachet crosses the beam, re-anchors the safety line with a piton, and motions the others over.
"We got any magic here?"
Eretyn moved across the opening, he made sure to keep one hand on the rope as he made the gestures to detect any magical auras in the area.
About halfway across the beam, Ratchet finds certain irregularities that suggest the presence of some sort of mechanical trigger.
"Well that's a mean place t' put a trap. Hold up fellas."
Deftly, Ratchet disables the cleverly concealed trigger, making the walkway safe for the others to cross.
Ratchet continues to the other side of the beam.
"No magic, and thankyou for the warning, but please do not try to be a showoff."
At the opposite end of the walkway you find an elaborate metal door. In the center is an oddly shaped depression. The door has no handle and does not move no matter how hard you push one it.
"Door's stuck tight. No handles. Just a weird divot here."
As you poke about the door, you hear a disembodied voice from somewhere over your heads, "Yup she's locked up pretty tightly. I think you're going to have a rough time getting through there."
The nomad shrugs down at the bottom and tries to climb up to the top. He stows his scythe to make this easier.
He waits at the top with the others and looks at his companions, "this is not a place of answers found quickly. This is my second time here and many others must have looked before. What is so well hidden?" There is a glint of avarice flickering in the shaman's eyes.
He opens his mouth to add more and then - this disembodied voice speaks.
Sandra had followed the big Half-orc after he climbed, arriving at the top she turn around:
Can someone remind me why we are here and what is going on? Because this .... and then she shrugs her shoulders
"We come for many things. Because curious and want to see what behind next door or over next pole. Who have you woke, Ratchet?"
Above you, a figure of a teenage boy fades into view, hovering in mid-air. He is dressed in farmer's clothes and seems a normal young man, except for his long black nails and the fact his neck twists unnaturally to one side. His baleful glowing eyes sparkle with mischief.
"Boo!", it says and then cackles with glee, doing a slow back flip in mid air.
Erethyn looked up at the spirit and presented his holy symbol of Heironeous. He seemed to have momentarily forgotten about the pit below and was focusing all of his attention at the young man. "Remove yourself spirit! We've no quarry with you, but do not mistake that I will exorcise you if need be."
"Ah, go boo yerself, ghosty boy! Then again, ye might prove ta be helpful afore ye poof away. Ye would'na 'appen ta know where th' knob fer that there door might be, would ye?"
"Well hello to you too."
The ghost crosses his legs and rests his chin on his hand, "Aye, I could open the door for you, but now why would I want to do that? You all being so friendly like. Beggars can't be choosers though. Tell you what, you do me a favour and I'll help you out. My body is down amongst those clay balls. If you go lay my bones next to those of my kin and I'll open that door for you. Deal?"
"Yer kin? Where're yer kin laid, lad? An do ye know which o' them clay balls yer bones're in?"
"Do you have a name? Tell us of that family and we can help you." The druid leans on his scythe. He twitches involuntarily at the thought of the open sky outside and the full wind. Ulfak raises his nose and stares into space.
"Name's Alastor Land, my folks had a farm just outside of town, should still be there. As for my body, well the worm messed things up a bit, so let's see... I think I'm mostly over there." He gestures to one side of the walkway.
The spirit had startled Ratchet so bad that he'd temporarily forgotten how to make words. By the time he remembered and processed the information the others had gotten out of the ghost, there wasn't much left to say.
"A'right. C'n ye point us t' where yer body fell?"
"Alastor Land what happened to you? How did you die?" Ulfak looks down off the walkway.