Seeing the narrow ledge, Spitter doesn't hesitate and moves quite quickly and confidently down and around the corner. His voice drifts from around the corner.
"What is taking you pink-skins so long?"
Maellyra taps against the iron maiden lightly. "Don't struggle in there. You'll hurt yourself." Following the others down the winding passages, the witch asks, "What do you plan to do with him once we've finished here?"
Maellyra answers the monk with a shake of her head before making her way across the narrow ledge after Spitter. She missteps once, treading on the ragged fabric of her dress, but she manages to right herself before she falls into the strange sludge.
"Our friends in armor may need a bit of help," says Leng. "Anyone? No rope anywhere? Not even among the trappings of this torture chamber?"
In response to Leng's question about rope, Spitter just looks at him funnily and waggles his vestigial wings.
After shoving the little devil into it's new prison, Pavo went and retrieved his net from the metal bull. He folded it up before placing it back on his waist and followed the others through the hidden door.
"Yeah, I got some rope too. Handy stuff to have, lots of uses. Fun at parties even" Pavo said with a sly grin.
Only Maellyra has any trouble with the slimey ledge, but she is able to make it without falling into the sludge. The group finds the hallway to be winding, long, and dark. Finally, a massive door can be seen. A small, barred window pierces the iron door at the end of this hall, revealing a plain, ten-foot-square room with a windowless iron door on the opposite wall beyond. A simple lock protects this door.
Spitter looks at the plain door.
"Probably trapped. Trust me, my kind love traps."
"Well that's clever. The trap's inside the door."
Looking at the door itself from over Spitter's shoulder, Pavo shrugged. "Eh, I've seen humans put traps in any place they think is valuable. Why, I once knew a guy who trapped his...nevermind, not important" he finished as he caught Maellrya out of the corner of his eye.
"Here, why don't you let me go first."
Pavo sees nothing to back up Spitter's comment about a trap, but does see that the lock on the door has not survived the centuries too well, not to mention it is an archaic design. As a result, they would be easy locks to pick. Of course, he also notices that they look the same as the cell door locks.
The key does in fact work and Pavo steps into the unlocked chamber to approach the second locked door. A booming voice suddenly fills the air, "Please close the door before proceeding with the pass phrase."
Whispering so as not to be attempting to answer the voice's question, Spitter looks around the room.
"Pass-Phrase? Dragon Poop! Do you see anything written down here?"
The only thing written I remember was on that torture chamber. I bet the cursed devil botfly knew about this pass phrase. - said the Paladin, approaching Spitter.
Maellyra looks at Pavo with one pale, barely there eyebrow crooked in confusion. The man seemed to her to have a habit of leaving half-told anecdotes unfinished or making her think his words carried double meanings. It was enough to drive her crazy with curiosity -- if she hadn't gotten the sense she was somehow better off not knowing.
Turning back to the task at hand, Maellyra says, "Confession cleanses the soul, pain clarifies the mind," repeating the phrase on the plaque for the benefit of others, though she is uncertain if that is the pass phrase that will satisfy the disembodied voice. "Assuming that an incorrect phrase will trigger the trap, is anyone willing to step inside and guess at the pass phrase?"
Leng shrugs. "I can try."
Nodding at Maellyra, Pavo shut the door and began "Confession cleanses the soul, pain clarifies the mind."
He crouched down in a defensive posture expecting the worst.
Well this should be interesting, or get me killed...or both.
A loud crack reverberates through the chamber and down the hall. It is followed by a sound rather like chains being dragged across stone. The floor has not yet dropped, but the floor is starting to rattle.
Professional curiosity pulls Spitter into the room with the pink-skin called Pavo.
"You are braver than most pink-skins."
"I think we better run for it!"
"Hmm." Maellyra's pale eyes can be seen through the barred window of the door, flitting back and forth as she looks for any telling changes in the trapped room. Though she seems unconcerned by the direness of the situation, her mind works to puzzle out other possible passphrases the disembodied voice could want. She sharply shushes Leng and Spitter, worried that the room might interpret their talk as more incorrect attempts and activate whatever trap was waiting. When nothing appears to happen, Maellyra suggests, "Try 'Good Baron Sarvo wills it'. The spirit seemed to think that was some sort of pass phrase."
The moment Maellyra sapeaks there is another loud clanking sound. Leng, Spitter, and Pavo all feel the floor beneath them cease vibrating. Both doors swing open.
A single iron lever protrudes from the wall next to the door in this otherwise empty chamber's west wall. To the east, a ten-foot-wide hallway curves to the north.
A four armed, three legged clockwork creature stands at the end of the hall, where the corridor turns. Beside it is a key hovering still in the air.
Spitter brandishes his small staff in a defensive posture.
"Dragon poop!"
That... Is something. - says the Paladin, looking at the clockwork creature, as he steps in with the others.
With a head nod towards Shayn, Pavo replied to Spitter. "He's the brave one. I'm just the one that doesn't know any better." With a shrug, he readied his trident and slowly began to encroach upon the guardian and it's key.
"Say, what do you think this key unlocks? I got a feeling that it ain't no treasure vault."
A few moments after Pavo crosses the threshold into the hallway, the clockwork sentry's eyes glow a bright red. "Please present crest for passage," says a tinny, harmonica like voice generated by small bellows in the machine.
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Spitter runs a small claw over his head.
"Crest? I don't have a crest. Now my cousin, Wiggletooth Snagscale, HE had a crest...strangely enough he could wiggle that too."
Maellyra shakes her head at Spitter's misunderstanding. "No, I think it means the plaque in the other room. The one with the inscription," she says, holding her hands in an approximation of the size of the crest. She throws a glance back the way the came, and when she turns back to face the group, it's clear from the set of her lips that she isn't keen on crossing the moat of suspicious green sludge a second time. Stepping closer, the witch studies the construct in an attempt to understand the magic that powers it.
The sound of turning gears and pnuematics fill the air and the clockwork creature moves to take a defensive posture, it's three legs planted on the stone floor in a way that makes it look unmovable. "You have five seconds to comply. 5...4..."
Shayn pulls ahead, keeping his sword out, assuming a defensive position towards the party.
Maybe one of you could seek this plaque Maellyra is talking about? - the paladin says - This thing seems to be waking up, or whatever it does. I never saw something like it before. Anyone has any clues?
He completes looking at the witch, assuming the contraption is magic.
Spiter begins backing up from the thing and yells out.
"Somebody! Quick! Go get that crest she mentioned! I can't reach it myself!"
Leng leaps to respond and races to get to the crest.
Maellyra backs away from the construct as it begins counting down, letting Shayn interpose himself between her and the contraption. "It's a clockwork servant, a construct of machinery and magic. It has a weakness to lightning, but little else." Not for the first time, Maellyra regrets suggesting that they kill that little storm cloud. As Leng, races back to retrieve the crest, Maellyra tells the rest of the group, "These are simple constructs, built to carry out a specific task. If we were to leave the room, it might deactivate again."
"Dragon Gold! The Voice in Thunder was right to send me to help you pink-skins!"
At this, Spitter pulls free a hand from his staff, and weaves his fingers and speaks in draconic. His hand sparking, hand now clutched as if holding something back, Spitter smiles almost evilly at the clockwork contruct.
"3..2..1...None are permitted beyond, the Good Baron Sarvo Wills it!" The almost musical voice completes the countdown. It takes no aggressive action, instead just standing ready to defend the hallway.
The echo of Leng running fades into the distance and everyone is still for a long moment, staring at the mechanical guard for a few tense minutes. The silence is broken by the sound of gears again turning and air pressure being released as it loosens into a more relaxed stance. "Resetting," it says as it returns to it's previous position at the corner of the passage, red eyes fading back to black. The floating key moves and enters the back of the clockwork man and begins turning, winding up the parts within.
Leng's running is again heard from down the long corridor, though slightly changed in pace and gait as the heavy Sarvo crest is a awkward and encumbering.
"Oof! Ow ow ow! This thing is awkward," says Leng as he arrives again with the crest.
"Here, let me help with that" Pavo said as he rushed over.
"So what do we do with this thing? Throw it at that giant foot stool?"
Letting his magic ebb, Spitter gestures toward the construct.
"Just show it. The monstrosity has a head, and can therefore see I would think."
The key finished winding the construct back up and returned to it's stationary location about four feet from the ground.
When approached, the automaton is triggered. It's eyes light again it requests that you, "Please present crest for passage.".
The red eyes seem to examine it for a few seconds before the bellows pumps and the guardian speaks again. "Welcome, Good Baron Sarvo." The glow in the eyes fades again and the creature is inert.
Around the corner a massive iron door blocks the way to the next room, fortunately, it bears the same lock all the doors hidden in this dungeon have, so the jailer's key from the iron maiden unlocks it.
The room beyond features an area along the south wall that is enclosed in a cage of thick iron bars that extend from floor to ceiling. Within the enclosure sit seven black iron chests. To the north, the stone wall has collapsed, revealing a rough-hewn tunnel.
"Look, some sort of odd holes on the floor there...keyholes perhaps?"
Maellyra breathes a quiet sigh of relief as the construct stands down. The witch had not been looking forward to finding out what it was programmed to do to trespassers. "Nicely done." Turning back to Leng and Pavo, she asks, "One of you is going to hold onto that, yes?"
In the next room, Maellyra doesn't notice the slots in the floor until Spitter points them out. Crouching down next to the kobold, Maellyra runs her fingers over one of them. "This keyhole is too large to be a fit for the key we found..." Too big to be a fit for any sort of key the witch had ever come across. Unless... Maellyra pulls the mithral dagger from her belt and examines the notches on the blade with sudden new insight. "When is a dagger not a dagger?" Carefully, so as not to scratch the precious metal should her theory prove wrong, the witch tries to slide the dagger into the slot on the ground.
Shayn walks with the group and, like Spitter, notices the holes on the floor. However, he makes no connection with the holes being keyholes. The paladin looks with curiosity as the witch tries to use the dagger on the holes - imagining the creativity of his companions was really truly inspiring.
Maellyra, clearly missing her calling as a tomb raider, finds that the daggers fit the slots well. The notches along the flat make sense now, since those daggers double as keys.
Once both are turned, there is a loud KERCHUNK followed by a sound of metal grinding against stone. The cages recede into the floor.
With everyone distracted by the cage and treasure, a foul smelling humanoid form charges from the shadows, aiming for Shayn!