Thistle drops the mechanical heart into the depth before him. As the ticking item fades from view, an updraft can be felt from the shaft, followed by a bright flash from below. You have pleased me, a booming, sissilant voice speaks from the voice, as if the wind itself was responding.
Let it be known that you have aided Abraxas, Master of the Final Incantation, Prince of Forbidden Lore, in the final and irreversible destruction of Nhur Athemon. I shall aid you with this: The entrance you seek is below the vile being's throne.
Yep, you're all leveling up. Info is on the campaign tab.
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.
Even before anyone can set foot into the room, someone bellows out: Halt! Do not move. You have been denied access until further notice. By order of the authorities of the City of Axis, state your name, affiliation and purpose of entry.
|
Caranthir, prior to entering this level of the Spire, casts his customary spells.
When confronted by the guardian, he says "I am Caranthir Silverhand, a Pathfinder agent. I am here with my companions, and we have explored every level of this Spire to this point. We would explore further, if we may," he says as he contemplates the City of Axis and what he has heard of it.
|
|
Thistle stands stoically with his arms folded across his chest, observing his companions and looking deeper into the halls for the person or thing apparently speaking to them. His ears twitch, despite their being unable to receive sound. His nostrils flare, and his tongue flicks out in front of him. He smells the distinct and familiar scents of his companions, floating about in the midst of this new area. He sniffs again, looking with his nose for the speaker who seems to be denying them entry.
|
The city is definitely not here, but on another plane of existence. The city of axis is the epitome of law, and home to the inevitables.
The voices from the room beyond move into view, and turn out two be two large, mechanical centaurs. Why grant you access? Doing so would only increase Entropy. Entropy is the enemy of existence. What lies beneath the Spire would bring chaos. As mortal life is already unstable, access has been denied.
This area is under lockdown. We seek to control the protean presence here, creatures with no desire other than to bring change. Such instability cannot be allowed, and therefore we are here to maintain the status quo.
I greet your offer with hesitance, since your motivation of exploration seems to be at odds with our goal of maintaining Status Quo. Nevertheless, the Protean presence remains a factor of instability, and one that we currently lack the resources to contain.
In this light, we can offer temporary access, under one binding condition: At the very middle of this particular cross-section of the Emerald Spire lies an ancient seal. The seal locks away an ancient and powerful force, a containment which the protean presence aims to disrupt. Under no circumstance should this be allowed to happen. Your access will only be granted if you agree to ensure the seal is not compromised in any way.
|
|
You'll find it at the base of the emerald spire, a set of double doors in the floor. It is unmistakable.
The nature of the force below is irrelevant, as we will not allow it to permeate into the world above. We will regard your agreement as binding, and allow you free reign of the areas in the immediate vicinity. For completeness, note we follow a strict viability discouragement policy to those who act against our interests.
|
|
The amount of mechanical creatures in this spire has given Thistle enough experience that he is able to get the gist of what they are saying, partially through repetition by his companions, and a little from the drone of the mechanical speech.
"I think he means to say that if we step out of line it will be met with violent force..." Thistle adds with a bit of a smirk and a reassuring nod to the mechanical guardian. He then wonders if the unliving thing would even understand the gesture.
With a shrug of his shoulders, he moves forward with his companions, a bit like a tentacled monster. Thin green lines of bioluminescent, pale light reach out from him and attach to each of his companions, moving around him, weaving in and out as his position changes in relationship to the others. With Bruce and Jelani leading the way, he looks to the doors to see what terrors might be on the other side.
|
|
The construct looks at Thistle and says [b]I will not speculate on hypothetical, but be advised that violent resolution lies well within our mandate.[/]
Beyond the nearest pair of doors, Thistle finds a corridor. Golden wires lead in a shimmering ribbon from the eastern door to the northern one. The air reverberates with a low hum.
|
|
Caranthir examines the floor, and sees the wires glow lightly with a transmutation magic. He also notices the wires are made of pure gold - quite valuable!
Moving on, the wires in thefloor of the next room split at the southern doors and lead to four cylindrical, white ceramic podiums in the corners of the room. From each podium rises a large, segmented ceramic arm that ends in a multi-fingered claw and an array of lenses.
Those arms look to be quite dangerous, and primed to hurt.
|
|
Thistle looks at the arms and wiring built into the floor with a curiosity. Based on the heavy amount of automation in this spire, he looks at the ceramic arms with distrust.
What could those lenses possibly be for? he muses to himself, no doubt with the others thinking the same things.
Thistle waits while the other, more deft, members of his group do proper inspections. He peers over their shoulders as they work.
Thistle has a good look at the mechanical arms, and even though he doesn't have the keen trap-detecting senses of Bruce, a quick glance is sufficient to figure that these are, indeed, quite dangerous.
|
|
Thistle nods, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He works out the tension in his arms and shoulders by briefly swinging them in front of his body, then nods to the others to indicate he is ready.
He watches Bruce the vigilant, with Jelani the mighty standing over his shoulder, move towards the door.
|
|
The door opens to a chamber. The southern end of this chamber is squared off and bare, yet as the room extends northward, the walls and floor twist and melt. Clusters of glowing blue crystals extend from the warped ceiling and floor, and from each cluster emerges a faint sound akin to young girls singing nonsense words.
Standing guard in this room is a mechanical-looking cloaked humanoid, who speaks up when the door opens, suspicion in his voice Halt, announce yourselves. What business do you have at this threshold?
|
|
Caranthir observes the chamber and wonders what might have caused the damage to the walls and floor.
He looks at the mechanical humanoid, and wonders if it is more of the creatures they have already encountered.
"We have received lawful orders to assist in removing any chaos and entropy from this place. We are Pathfinders, and would pass through, if we might."
|
|
Thistle observes the room, picking out details others might miss in the clusters and shapes of the walls. The faint chorus is lost on his deaf ears.
The odd bends of the walls and randomized clusters hold a certain kind of beauty as he observes, a stark contrast to neat lines, ordered halls, and crisp corners.
This guardian will not appreciate our entry here... he thinks to himself as Caranthir announces the group. This ought to quick establish whether this creation is friend or foe.
Thistle grips his shield strap and morningstar hammer a little tighter, mulling the words to a prayer in his mind, waiting for what feels like an inevitable conflict.
While the stream of nonsense words continues, the towering figure looks at the party with suspicion.
Together One!
Bar bar bar bar bar bar!
Follow on, two!
Bar bar bar bar bar bar!
Get, set, ready! GO!
Jumping! Jumping! Everybody!
Finally, the inevitable speaks
I find your premise hard to reconcile. First, the is no 'pass through'. There is a closed gated, barring both entry and egress. Second, if you are truly here to help, why are you not accompanied by our finest force. Three, the forces of chaos infesting this area are known to play tricks of illusion and deceit. Therefore, I must conclude that you are an instance of such a trick. The recommended course of action for a protean intrusion is active discouragement. Please remain still to accommodate the process.
The cloaked figure then proceeds to draw his sword.
---
Caranthir
---
Warrior
---
Fellgrim
Jelani
Bruce
Thistle
---