Jethryk regards the spare head thoughtfully.
"I wonder where this came from?"
"Somewhere to keep the sacrifices once we find em." he observes, pocketing the key from the cell door as he looks around the prison. He makes note of the unmatched head in case they run into it's body later on, and eyes the enchanted bed with derision. Give him a pile of furs--or anything soft frankly--any day. Nothing else particularly grabbing his interest he continues onwards
The heads of the statues all look relatively similar at the moment, mostly intact with some general scuffing and scraping. To isolate which doesn't belong you'd probably need a couple of hours sifting through the pile of rubble and matching head to body.
Know Planes
Shendalyn shrugs. "PErhaps. When my head isn't throbbing I could tell better. The metal may have little to no bearing on the sort of creature bound. I imagine though if they have not been destroyed the actual instruments for their rituals may still lie here somewhere. Gurthock do retrieve that stone head please. This place is a puzzle that intrigues me. Oh, and I claim the bed."
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After another empty room, you open a chamber that has a human skeleton nailed to the western wall by a spear with a broken haft. Written above the impaled skeleton is the phrase: “The Master of Acolytes, stealer of children. Let all who would turn to darkness see his fate and return to the light.”
The next room was ransacked with such enthusiasm that there is now a sizeable hole in the western wall. Through this hole has come the agressive greenery of the Caer Bryr and now vines and creepers fill this chamber. The hole is clogged with foliage but still could allow someone of medium size to cut through and enter.
However more threateningly placed are the twin oozes upon the walls and floor, green and slimy - they seem to notice the door being opened and react to move toward it...
Shendalyn spots the oozes reflexively slamming the door and backs away from it.
"Ah, the locals. Hopefully they can't squeeze through the cracks."
Mi'Dre cannot recall anything specific or of worth about an ooze of this size, shape and flavor.
"I didn't get a great look, but I don't recognize them. Depending on the type squeezing may not even enter into it. I suggest we retreat a ways, it might be enough..." he says, stepping in front of Albina, and gently urging her backwards. From what he'd been reading about such things he should at the least be resistant to their effects.
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"I didn't see any other exits in the room, so there's nothing there for us. Best to just move away from that area, so they do not hear or smell us." Albina says quietly, taking her own advice and moving away, although slowly, in case others wish to stay and fight, or the creatures burn through the door quickly enough to remove the option of leaving them be.
Shendalyn shrugs as they saunter off not particularly worried about the oozes. "Useful things if properly contained. One of the estates I frequented once kept a gelatinous cube at the bottom of a pit to entertain guests and dispose of garbage. That is until a servant fell in and they had to have it removed. If we do stay here we'll have to figure out how to make use of them ina similar fashion."
Jethryk nods to Shendalyn.
"Yes, I remember the University used to keep one in the 'offal pit' to dispose of the left-overs from each day's dissections. I, too, would be happy to leave them alone for the moment... Slime can be incredibly annoying. Let's keep moving."
Retreating behind a closed door you observe for a minute or two to ensure that the oozes will not follow and are initially relieved when they do not seep through the door to molest you.
The next two chambers you enter prove interesting for two very different reasons...
The Knights’ Shrine
The mostly empty room has a plain wooden table against one wall where many candles have burned down to nubs. Upon the wall there is a drawn image of a sun crossed by a longsword and an inscription “Iomedae lucet omnibus, Iomedae omnia regit” which translates to “Iomedae shines on everyone, Iomedae rules everything.”
The Broken Statue
All that remains in this room is a broken, headless statue. Even a cursory glance reveals that the statue is very detailed...
Jethryk nods towards the broken statue.
"Methinks we should check to see which of the heads from the other room belong to that torso... I dare say that we might find something... interesting."
"Hmmmmm stone salve plus incredibly detailed statue plus whst we acquired below equals? Gurthock already picked that head up. BE a good chap and set it by the statue's feet for now."
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"I believe that's the motto of the knights of Alerion." Albina says, looking at the inscription.
"I wonder who the statue is? Someone who served the daemon and can help us, perhaps?"
She looks at the statue for signs of religious affiliation, or other telltale trappings or attire (or deformities...).
Beneath cultist's robes the statue seems to be bearing banded mail and has a heavy flail at his side. An educated guess would put him on the side of the tenants rather than the invaders.
Double checking the extra head and the statue do seem to match.
"Hmmmmm. If he is one who was turned to stone the information he could provide would be invaluable. Though I suggest restraining him somehow. I doubt he will be in much of a mood to talk since as far as he knows his home is still under attack."
"He is but the latest of several interesting finds. I suggest that like those before him we delay further investigations." Mi'Dre observes as Shendalyn speaks of restraining him. It seemed they had no need to be hasty with such endeavors, and more dungeon still to explore.
As discussion continues around what exactly to do with respect to the shrine and petrified culitst - you decide to explore the last couple of rooms upon the floor.
Temple of the Priests
Six stately pillars rise to high vaulted ceilings. Images of winged carrion birds circle high above set into the stonework. stunningly beautiful, intricate murals cover every inch of the walls and floor of this place. At first glance, the murals appear quite lovely showing vast armies of supplicants, each exquisitely rendered in bas relief, walking arms outspread towards some unseen goal.
Only as you progress towards the throne and the eastern wall does the message of the murals becomes clear. The figures become more and more emaciated, worn and diseased. Around the throne can be seen cackling daemons herding them like sheep. Nearer the wall they are no longer supplicants but instead shambling undead marching in great legions. And on the eastern walls is the supplicant’s destination -- a throne carved in the likeness of a great skull and above it reads in Abyssal “Lead the flock into the arms of blessed Death.”
There is also another inscription upon the throne... “Rah.”
Hall of Murals
This long L-shaped corridor extends almost 220 feet. Every ten feet is a new mural carved in larger than life detail. Together these murals depict a detailed history of the Sons of the Pale Horseman. Some of the murals have been defaced, but there is still much that survives. Many of the murals bear inscriptions in Abyssal and their contents show hounds of hell, horses with manes and hooves of flame and animate mud-men.
"Well. I'd say we've found the other half of the throne downstairs. Much more impressive." he observes. "Care to repeat your experiment Shendalyn?" he asks, smiling at Gurthok.
Jethryk turns to the others.
"Well? What do you want to do next? I am afraid that I cannot help with translating murals, but I could certainly put that stoned body back together, and interrogate the cultist, and I could definitely take apart that shrine to Iomedae that we found - stone does not tend to stand-up well against an adamantine assault."
"Shendalyn? Albina? Do you want to work on the translations? Mi'Dre? Do you want to assist me with desecration of Iomedae's shrine, and then go look for the entrance to that hidden stairwell? It has to be around here, somewhere..."
Shendalyn does as Mi'Dre asks up to and including getting away from the chair lest they be covered in bits of gurthock. Up to and including saying both words together in either order they go.
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"I am no linguist, but I will be able to call upon the legal expertise of our Dark Patron tomorrow, to provide translation of the murals. Would you have some magic that might help to clean them up, Cruxcarr?" Albina says. "For today, restoring the petrified person and interrogating them does seem the most productive use of our time, as well as locating any further secret stairways."
"Need more than just a blade for some proper desecration... " Mi'Dre observes sourly as Jethryk asks for his aid. "Pretty sure I know where the stairs should be down in the caves though. That or you guys are in for a climb." he observes with a smirk.
He is inclined to start from there, especially while they are still together, but waits at least until Gurthok has performed his test of the throne. It seemed like a relatively simple system, say the word corresponding to the other throne to travel there. Perhaps there was even a third one up above...
When Gurthock sits upon the throne and utters "Yah" he fades from view entirely.
The cultist's head is put back upon the statue's shoulders gently and looks to be a fairly decent fit. Although there are a few chips and scores here and there it does look complete enough that the transition back to flesh will be survivable.
Retreating momentarily to the caverns below, you banish the curious boggards away and search for the base of the hidden staircase - finding it behind an exquisitely crafted secret door that is almost imperceptible to the naked eye. Only persistence and a rough idea of where it should be guide you to it at the side of one of the empty caves. Behind is a staircase that ascends upwards in a tight spiral.
Dragging along Albina (since I figure we want to *talk* to him, and Jethryk is only good at Intimidate), Jethryk sets about restoring the cultist...
The stone salve is applied to the reformed stone cultist and after a few moments waiting the grey color of his skin and clothes begins to slough away. The chips in the statue take form in nicks and cuts that well with blood, and as soon as movement is possible the cultist screams in pain and stiffly backs away to a wall before collapsing upon his arse. Looking at you in alarm and with confusion he stammers.
"Wh..what happened?" worriedly looking around "Are the bastards still here... th-they were killing all of us.. even Vetra-Kali himself had fallen." clearly to the man's mind not a second has passed since his petrification... and his last memories were of the Savior's assault.
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Albina casts a spell to seal his wounds before he even begins speaking, not sure if his head is going to pop off at any second.
"The attackers are long gone. Calm yourself." Albina says soothingly, attempting to draw the man's attention to herself, and not the state of the room. "Allow the healing magic to salve your wounds."
After Albina has said her piece, Jethryk puts it a lot more bluntly.
"The forces here were defeated long ago, and Vetra-Kali was banished. This place has lain empty since; the followers of Iomedae had no interest in this place. As for you, you were turned to stone; lucky for you, we were able to find all the pieces..."
He then shrugs.
"Now, we don't venerate Vetra-Kali, per se, but we *would* like to see him returned to this world, to rain his plagues down upon those foolish enough to try and banish him. Would you be interested in assisting us? We are currently looking for his eyes...
To show our sincerity, there is a shrine to Iomedae on this level that you are welcome to assist with the desecration of..."
The man settles reasonably easily and the removal of nicks and burrs does alot to assuage any concern he might have and lead him unto the path of camaraderie. He takes stock for a few moments as gears and cogs whir inside his head. Nodding with some signal of internal confirmation he tosses the pouch at his belt to Jethryk's feet "You'll be wanting that then... One of the high priests died in front of me, and I had the luck to pick it up just in time..."
"I'm Halthus, and if you're looking to raise Eats-the-Eyes... then I'm all for it."
Jethryk nods.
"Excellent. We have an accord, then, Halthus. The name is Jethryk, and this is the lovely Lady Albina. We have a few other colleagues scattered around this place, trying to work out what makes it tick."
He then gingerly picks up the pouch, and peers inside.
"Ah, wonderful. Two down, one to go."
Jethryk turns to Halthus once more.
"Would you like to join us in desecrating the Iomedaean shrine?"
He then heads off to do just that...
The man shrugs and follows Jethryk from what you think resembles more obligation than enthusiasm... but he pulls a spiked and heavy flail from beneath his robes that he seems to know what he's doing with. Swift blows rain down and obliterate the shrine in quick measure... but there still seems to be something that lingers from it.
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"Some unkind odor of the usurpers insipid power yet remains, like a pall of grief over a cemetery. We can purge it tomorrow, with divine energies, so that no trace of our enemy's power remains to sully this place." Albina says, matter of factly, having left the bludgeoning to those with stronger arms for such work.
Shendalyn is still fiddling about the place taking his time with the mural and its translation being (as far as he knows) the only abyssal speaker in the group.
Gurthock meanwhile just teleports back and forth from throne room to throne room for the hell of it.
When he sees the others walk by he gives a small smile. "Oh good. No neck cramps? Oh nevermind. Do watch your head in this place."
Before turning back to the mural.
"I told you that wouldn't work." Mi'Dre observes with a derisive scowl, having accompanied their enthusiastic friend and newly revived cultist as Albina declares the presence of Iomedae's remains. "Step aside." he declares, appearing to remove his illusory pants and take aim with his impressive dwarven manhood. If some diabolical waste wasn't enough to complete the task then they'd have to find a sacrifice and do it properly.
The stream steams slightly as it hit's the damaged mural, but unless Albina gives the all clear he doesn't stop there once the flow wanes, squatting down and straining to provide some 'further material' for the process, a thoroughly unpleasant situation for the others, smearing it around as fits his artistic whims.
Once his task is done--successful or not--he leads the way back down to the caves, taking the shortcut of the throne if possible, detouring to the mudroom to cleanse himself of the foul odor of his biological functions. He smiles smugly as he returns and his deductions are proved correct, revealing the secret passage where he'd said it should be. "Upwards and onwards, correct?"
Jethryk sighs.
"I feared as much, Albina, but thought that a little healthy violence would be somewhat liberating... I will leave it in your capable hands to finish the job."
He then nods to Mi'Dre.
"Agreed. We should continue up."
Mi'Dre leads the way, slowly trudging up the many steps, cursing the lack of space. Secret tunnels did tend to be cramped however...
The flayer does not choose to accompany you unless forced to do so, as you pass into the spiral staircase that threads it's way higher. It eventually terminates in a landing that is empty and bare except for two badly deteriorated skeletons inside broken worthless suits of what was once ornate full-plate. The ruined armored in covered in symbols similar to those that adorn the Horn itself.
A single door leads from the room to the West.
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"The odds of finding a hidden cabal of priests a few days away from concluding the ritual to awaken Vetra-Kali, surrounded by hundreds of flasks of unholy water, seem to be worsening..." Albina says dryly, slightly out of breath from the stairs, observing the long-dead holy warriors in their decayed armor.
She seems to be a magnet for cobwebs, in this ancient stair, and has taken to waving a spent torch in front of her before every step, as Mi'Dre just walks right under things that tangle her hair, and Jethryk seems to have some uncanny knack for avoiding them.
Jethryk shrugs.
"Waste not, want not. Perhaps you could re-animate them to act as guardians?"