Argon scrambles forward, away from the undead threat as quickly as possible. He looks ahead, to see if there is anything up there.
"I have oil, if that will help..."
Daxniss glares at the walls around her, not thrilled that if they were unlucky, that the Drowned Ones could be lying in wait for the group, shrugging off the useless train of thought.
Ever prgramatically, Wrathe breathes in the Undercommon tongue, "At least we should be able to clearly see the second set of wards once we get close to them." He had not been able to perceive the last set with his magical sight, but that does not stop him from shifting to see the subtle colours associated with magical vision once more (detect magic).
He goes over everything he had heard about zombies and Drowned Ones. They had traces of the person's soul trapped inside, which did not appear to be helpful in this moment.
For some reason he could not control he kept hearing Master Dainoth reciting that the Drowned One's bite is universally fatal within scant hours of their teeth finding purchase in flesh.
Wrathe crawls quicker, crowding the rogue.
Not daring to look behind him, Ssilax comes to the rapid realization that he didn't care where the wards were located. Maybe he would be more interested if they weren't being chased by a group of hungry corpses.
A sudden, horrible thought occurs to the dragonkin. He spits out the leash to grab in with his clawed fingers.
"We have to go faster! If those things follow us and reach the third set of wards, I don't think having the Pass Stones is gonna matter!" Ssilax voice is clearly nervous.
The thought of flames curling around his flesh, stops the dragonkin in his tracks. He starts to hyperventilate.
"Noooo..... I don't want to burn to death! Please Nethys, not again! the boy wails. Argon shoves the reptilian caster, getting his scaled ass in gear. The dragonkin is scrambling forward as fast as he can go, which is not all that fast the other two behind him realize. His breathing is a mix of choked sobs and hisses.
Wrathe sees the occasional flash of magical energy. However, he would have to spend longer than a glance looking at them to figure out what they are. Being chased by ravenous undead with a fatal bite is perhaps the worst time to stop and lollygag to find wards they were already protected from. The thought that the wards might be cut into the wall with the thought for concealment does cross his mind.
The horrid moans coming from the Drowned Ones that are crawling into the tunnel after them, has them all fearing for their lives. All except for Wrathe who steels his mind and is unaffected and Ssilax, who is on the edge of a panic induced breakdown.
Daxniss, followed very shortly by Wrathe feel a strange "popping" sensation. Wrathe catches a faint glimmer above him. At a quick glance, he does note a series of wards that are cut into the stone work. The magically visible light is mostly absorbed by an odd colored stone. It seems they have passed the second set of wards.
The two can see an opening to the tunnel perhaps 60 feet ahead of them.
Argon's hand bumps into a Pass Stone that isn't his.
Wrathe turns his head and takes in the dragonkin's struggle. He empathizes fully, for that is exactly how he is feeling at the moment.
Reaching back he takes the dropped Dog's leash. The two of them having grown much closer over recent days. The Xthian had not understood the relationship with pets, especially since he had grown up in chains, but he eventually understood that they shared a mutual bond of companionship and respect.
Working to try to help His friend through his struggles he passes back in their shared tongue, for who knew if the traces of of the victim's soul provided a glimmer of intelligence, "Opening ahead. Not 15 paces away. Oil sounds like a great idea Argon, I'll re-light my torch as soon as I some elbow room to light it. Perhaps you two specimens of physical perfection could cave in a few flaming skulls there as well."
Lowering his voice so that only Ssilax can easily hear it he whispers, "When you move up through the church of Nethys, do you think you can introduce me to that Yamasha you spoke of?" He waggles his eyebrows at the dragonkin as he speaks of the terribly beautiful, succubus-like demon, that is one of Nethys' servants and the mistress of conjuration, which is his own focus.
He's only half kidding.
Wrathe can see the wild look in the dragonkin's orbs, and it's clear that Ssilax only has the thoughts of getting away from the Drowned Ones. And out of the fire that could be in the tunnel. Dog dutifully scrambles under the panicking Ssilax. The whites of the canines eyes can be seen, its ears laid back as it glancess up at the apprentice theurge.
The Xthian sees both of Ssilax's hands are open, his claws scratching at the walls.
Wrathe takes a deep breath, recognizing the threat of a bottleneck that is about to occur.
Forgoing the use of their mutual language he barks, "Ssilax has dropped his stone! I will give jam mine in his hand as he passes through the second wards. Please bring me his."
As they get to the opening he moves as far aside as his skinny form will permit and jams the stone in the dragonkin's hands, then yells through the haze of panic, "Hold this, if only for a few seconds."
He lifts up Dog, promising Ssilax that he will keep his pet safe, and hopes someone behind him had found the discarded Pass Stone.
Argon finds the errant stone, and calls, "I have his stone." He looks ahead to see both of Ssilax's hands open, and that he is scratching at the walls in panic.
Seeing what Wrathe is doing, Argon says, "Push through with him, then. Hold the stone in his hand so he doesn't drop it!"
He moves up, pushing Ssilax forward gently if possible, not so gently if needed. "Safety is up ahead, Ssilax. I'll be lighting no fires until you're clear."
We are not going to die here! he thinks, terrified but determined. He thinks of he group as one; it does not occur to him that just one of them might die.
Scrambling forward, the dragonkin's snaps his jaws at the object shoved his way. Missing Wrathe's fingers by a good distance, the offered stone is clenched in his maw as he scrambles past. Rational thought was far behind Ssilax at the moment, somewhere behind the Drowned Ones.
Crouching down so that Ssilax can move over him, Dog moves over to Wrathe. The canine looks a little confused, but is eager to follow Ssilax.
Wrathe is certain that as long as he is touching Dog and a Pass Stone, it's effects should cover the animal from the remaining wards. Freed from have to crawl over Dog, Ssilax can move forward faster. The group narrowly avoids a bottle neck, which is excellent news for Dorian. Being almost eaten alive once was more than enough.
As Danxniss closes in on the last 15 feet of the tunnel, reddish-orange aggressive looking wards become visible. She feels nothing as she pass through them. There is a slight flash from her Pass Stone. She can hear Ssilax's claws scratching on the stone as he is right behind her.
The young rogue pops out of the tunnel into a small walk-in closet sized room. The dragonkin scurries out of the tunnel and immediately stands up against the nearby wall.
Daxniss looks around, starting to look for an exit from this room before starting to look for traps. It would be a tight fit, the fear from the Drowned Ones, is sitting at the corner of her mind present but pushed back for the moment as a much more present danger could be lurking in front of the group.
" Ssilax, don't move any further, the wards will prevent the Drowned Ones from reaching us. I need to check for traps, the last thing we want is something else getting triggered. "
Wrathe soothingly runs his fingers down the animal's fur as he waits for Argon to catch up. As the slayer rapidly closes the distance he reaches back to retrieve the Pass Stone, and then ensures that he has a firm grip on Dog before moving forth with Pass Stone in hand; ignoring the bloodstains upon his ravaged knee flesh.
Moving into the room, expecting that Ssilax will have pushed his was inside, he braves the traps so he can release Dog into the dragonkin's protection. He considers speaking, but decides against it and gives the theurge time to find his own breath and hopefully be calmed by his furry little friend.
Wrathe drops to a knee with two torches in hand and starts working on them with flint and steel.
He speaks in Undercommon, "Small room in here. Daxniss is seeking out exits. Lighting two torches."
Argon enters, stone in hand, after Ssilax and Wrathe. He glances around for exits, then tries to get Ssilax to stand.
Daxniss succeeds in getting the dragonkin calmed down enough so that he wasn't going to try and claw his way out of the small stone room. At least for the moment. Glancing around the room quickly, the young rogue's heart sinks, she didn't see an easy exit from the in the small room. She does note that there seems to be an inch or so of extremely fine dust covering the floor.
Wrathe easily notes the dust, as he is currently kneeling in it. This close to the ground he can just catch the scent of charcoal coming from the floor. At a glance at the tunnel and the last set of fiery looking wards, the faint sense of this sounding familiar pops into his grey matter.
At the sight of the torches, Ssilax scoots further away with a whimper, trying to press himself into the stone. Dog presses up against his leg, attempting to reassure his two-legged friend. A fresh chorus of excited moans float out of the crawlspace. They sounded eager, it wasn't everyday that so many living peoples came their way.
The dragonkin drops his knees, hugging the almost grown canine to his chest, sobbing into his fur.
Argon does not notice anything that could be a door. The walls of this chamber are smooth.
Dorian realizes two things once he has turned himself around. The first being that the Drowned Ones were almost on top of him. The second is that they seem to be ignoring the wards that supposedly kept this place hidden and people uninterested in it's presence. He confirms this as the first of the eight disease filled corpses takes a swipe at his face. While the rotting fingers miss his face, Dorian does get a further surprise. A chunk of the rotten flesh breaks free and hits him in the open mouth. He can feel the tiny wiggling maggots in his mouth as the putrid flesh touches his tongue.
Terrified, Ssilax clutches Dog like a drowning man grabs a piece of driftwood. Shuddering fear, the dragonkin buries his face in the animals fur as the next round of hungry moans floats out of the crawlspace.
Wrathe hands a lit torch to Argon as he enters the small chamber, assisting the slayer if he chooses to employ burning oil, and uses the other one to illuminate the floor as he pushes the dust aside with his shoe.
Argon is dismayed to see there is no exit on the walls. He quickly looks at the ceiling and floor. He realizes there could be something hidden beneath the dust. "Maybe there's a trapdoor in the floor!" he calls out.
But he also sees Dorian is in a bit of trouble, so Argon draws his weapons (Quick Draw, free action) and moves next to him to help him. The focus is on keeping the thing from entering, whereupon more of them would be able to appear.
Wrathe remembers that wards designed to effect a beings senses, whether it be illusion or emotion would be completely useless against an undead creature. However, a ward that would physically effect a being, say a fire trap, would be very effective.
At a glance, Dorian would have to get out of the tunnel as soon as his half-living limbs could carry him. Once the Drowned Ones touched the final set of wards, the incineration ward would trigger. And the glowing red wards line the final 15 feet of the tunnel. If the monk was still in the tunnel, he would be reduced to dust along with the Drowned Ones.
Argon crouches, looking into the tunnel. He knew there was no way he was going to be able to fit side by side. The slayer in training could keep them from entering after Dorian get out of the tunnel.
When they kicked the dust out of the way, the memory of Dainoth telling them that he thought that the sphere was laying on it's "face". The old wizard had said that he believed the main entrance was lying below, buried into stone. The side entrance they where in was almost the equivalent of a chimney.
Daxniss blinks the remaining dust that floats up from Wrathe's foot, trying to get a better look at what Wrathe was peering so intently at then remembering what Dainoth had said about an side entrance. Shivering at the sound of the Drowned Ones getting closer and the fact that Dorian was still in the tunnel.
" Stop playing Kissy face with your new friends Dorian! Remember your Pass Stone as well. "
Wrathe pauses in his search, then reprioritize is his time to determine where the source of the flames will be coming from and what portion of the area will be affected by the conflagration.
Argon takes out one flask of oil, gives it to Wrathe, and says, "Be careful - this dust may burn too."
Then he looks around his corner of the floor for a trapdoor or any other evidence of a means of egress.
Wrathe considers the flask for a moment, hefting it and preparing to throw both it and the torch.
He really did not want the dragonkin to fixate on the flames,"Ssilax, we need to find an entrance to this 'chimney', Please help move this dust, so we can see what's underneath. You'll be the first out of the room."
He wastes no time lining up his throw and splashing the area beyond with oil and torch. His thought was not to kill the Drowned Ones, for he doubted that he could with such mundane weaponry, and only hoped to hold them at bay for a time. Wrathe really did not want to be in this area when a trap was triggered.
Whispering to Argon he hypothesizes with a nervous chuckle, "I think this 'dust' consists of those that came before without bearing a pass stone."
.
Rolling backwards out of the tunnel, the agile monk springs to his feet, as a flask of oil goes sailing into the tunnel. While his throw was true, Wrathe's projectile bounces off of a few of the crawling rotters not going nearly as far as he wanted it too. The cursed human also theorizes that the flames will more than likely incinerate everything in the tunnel, and possible blow back into the closet they where crammed into.
Neither Daxniss or Argon are able to find a trapdoor leading out.
Needless to say, they really need that exit, for the first of the Drowned Ones is not even 15 feet away from the wards.
Fear of fire consuming his mind, Wrathe's words cut through the roaring flames that crackle in his mind. Pulling his face out of Dog's fur, Ssilax scrambles forwards on all fours.
Using his robe, he brushes large swatches of dust out of the way haphazardly.
Dog watches the dragonkin for a few heartbeats before padding over to dig at the dust. The canine wondered what new game they where playing at, his tail wagging excitedly.
"I think we found something!" cries out a triumphant Ssilax. "It looks like a hand sized plate. Dog, No!" the dragonkin says. It's too late, Dog steps on the plate on his way to get closer to Ssilax.
There is a clicking sound that comes from the floor. For several silent heart stopping seconds, nothing happens.
The floor suddenly opens, swinging downward it vanishes beneath the group, spilling them into the inky abyss.
Daxniss brushes more dust off the floor, using her fingers to try to find what her eyes were unable to locate the trapdoor. Recalling a lesson seeing with her fingers instead of only her eyes, as if she was picking a lock.
" Everyone give each other a hand, as more hands searching might make this easier to locate any other latches for the door " Daxniss says her voice rising a few octaves as she starts to search.
Daxniss' stomach drops as she hears SSilax's words and feels a brief moment of free fall before gravity yanks her down.
Wrathe watches the oil and torch arc over the tumbling form of Dorian, momentarily enthralled by the fluid movements of the monk. Backtracking from the warmth of the fire, his strange metallic eyes scour the scorched surround drawing in information of totality of the destruction awaiting them. It was information he decides to keep to himself, since the need for alacrity was not lost on anyone.
At least they would be flambeed prior to consumption, and would rid the world of some Drowned Ones as well.
Ignoring the slithering sound of the onrushing death, he hopes the oil is slowing their pursuit enough to give them a few more moments to escape as he joins the others upon hand and knee to search for a means of egress.
Ssilax and Daxniss' words draw him from his reverie, which affords him time to throw himself aside at the last possible second.
Argon hears the good news that Ssilax had found something, as he's moving away from the fire and the Drowned Ones, but suddenly there's a click and the floor drops below him. He realizes he is falling, no matter what, so tries to keep his balance so that he can land well, or possible reach out and grab something if he sees there is something to grab on the way down.
He is reminded of his bell prank four years past. That was just before he met these freaks, he realizes - the same night he was taken in by Rygear and Dainoth.
"Faaa..."
Surrounded by the dust, the tumble last both forever and a mere half second as bodies find the new ground thanks to gravity's guidance. Slamming into the ground below, the angry cries of the Drowned Ones follow them down. The cursed being seems eager to continue the hunt for sweet living flesh to devour.
The next moment, the very air burns as the powerful defensive wards activate. A hungry, man sized tongue of flame illuminates the chamber they had just vacated. The blast heat that slams into them is beyond almost anything they can comprehend. The jet of flame seems to go on and on, it's roar covering Ssilax screaming in terror.
The trapdoor they had fallen through suddenly swings shut, leaving light burned eyes to suddenly focus once more in the darkness. Worse, it hard to breathe, the fire consuming all of the air that had been in the exposed chambers.
Gasping for the air that is not there, lungs heaving trying to find something to survive on, vision tunnels, and then blackens as all of the youths fall unconscious, slumping onto the floor.
*****************
Dog's barking begins to pull you from unconsciousness. All are feeling a bit bruised and battered, Argon is the only one not feeling like their skin is a size too small. Almost everyone is sporting slightly burnt skin, as if out in the sun far too long. Lungs hurt from inhaling air far too hot to safely breathe.
At a quick glance, everyone is presumably in the same room that they had passed out in. The faint outline of the door is visible above them. The circular room that they are currently in is dimly light with a faint red glow coming from the very walls. The light provides almost as much as a candle does. The room they find themselves in is scattered with various bits of broken furniture and the like. This room appears to be the final resting place for broken, used objects, awaiting their turn at incineration.
Of note, there is a rather hideous looking statue of an imp crouching upon a broken table. A (presumably) remarkable life-like depiction of an imp, someone decided that the statue needed an eye-patch, complete with the Jolly-Roger on it. A tricorn hat perches at a jaunty angle.
Turning it's head to get a better look at the pile of young adventures, the imp blinks it's one good burning eye.
Argon wakes, and looks around. He had been warmed by the fire, but knew the others were more susceptible to it, especially (at least mentally) Ssilax. He's happy to see they had not burned up, and were still breathing. Dog's singed hair looks like it's falling off as he wags his tail.
As his red-brown eyes pass over the others and then the room, they pause on the miniature statue of a demon or devil of some kind. Someone had put an eye patch and hat on it, as if in jest, making it look like a pirate.
Argon is startled by the statue moving, winking (or blinking, it's hard to tell with one eye covered); so startled that he stands up and jumps back a few feet, drawing both weapons in a heartbeat (quick draw), and staring at the little red pirate demon.
How long had they been unconscious? At least the pirate hadn't killed them.
"Good job, double-you. Glad you were extra careful." says Argon to Wrathe, with a slight smile.
He avoids naming him, in case this demon pirate is keeping track.
The warning had been sufficient to stop him from breaking his fool neck, but the impact had still been bone-jarring. His one ankle had been twisted, but otherwise he had come out alright.
Coughing in the dust, Wrathe glances about to ensure that everyone was alright, and also in search of the torch, when the entire area was awash in contrails of heat, and grasping fingers of flame. All of the air is sucked from his lungs as he cowers before the assault, remaining in position for a time after the ward had finished incinerating the Drowned Ones.
Patting out a small flame that had taken refuge upon the fabric draped over his shoulder her chuckles, "I am almost positive that I felt uncomfortably hot there." It is at that moment that he realizes that Dainoth reconnaissance work and false assurances might be the death of all of them.
At least that is what he wanted to say, for he had flopped unconscious in mid-sentence.
His fingers find the second torch shorty after climbing back to consciousness, "Everyone all right?"
It was lucky that this was a side entrance, because clambering up that chimney, even if the trapdoor remained open, was unlikely for most but the most fit.
The indomitable Wrathe, the lapse of concentration relegating him back into his normal form, slowly drags himself over beside Ssilax' supine form, his thin scholarly robes far from the off-white they were at the beginning of the day, his filthy face cracking apart into an epic smile, "Luckily I landed on Dog or else I might of hurt myself." His words are light, and the playful wink he offers counters any thought that he might be serious.
With a groan he slowly pushes himself to his feet, gingerly testing his ankle before fully trusting his nigh-insignificant weight to it, and after determining that it was sufficient for his needs he offers a hand to help Daxniss and Ssilax up. Taking stock he makes sure nothing was damaged among his belongings all but ignoring his surround for a time.
Argon's words shake him free of his reverie, and he moves next to the slayer; clapping the rock solid Alman on the shoulder as he approaches. Letting out a low whistle he approaches the imp statuette, impressed by its craftsmanship.
Then the hellspawn moves.
Like a prey item, Wrathe stands stock still, unsure how best to proceed. The Asmodean mark burned into his flesh dominates his thoughts, for he had escaped Hell itself to stand upon the Material Realm.
Daxniss rubs at her face gingerly, hissing in discomfort as her skin informs her that some of the heat from the trap had licked at her. Fire had always seemed to be more intense to Daxniss or, she just had a lower threshold for fire.
Shaking her head, she pushes herself up to her feet, she glares at Dog, " Dog, you are cute next time try to get my attention. The last thing I want is to be impaled. Still you are a good Dog, I owe you a treat. "
Looking at the others then finally noticing the Imp and the others, along with the Imp moving. " Ummm 'ello, Thanks for not taking advantage of us while we were unconscious. " Daxniss really didn't know what the creature was, her training hadn't involved anything like this yet.
Argon is a little shocked that Daxniss talks to the little creature. But the creature could probably speak, if all the stories were true.
He thinks for a bit, and looks around for exits. If there are no exits, we're stuck here, unless those Drowned Ones are burnt up. He listens for evidence of them above.
Turning to the demon pirate, Argon says, "Hello. I'm F-Faragon. I guess you know how we got here. Why are you here?" He does not use his real name, choosing his father's name instead, for he doesn't want a demon or devil to know his real name. He looks around at the others, to ensure they notice he gave out a fake name.
Waking up with a gasp, his eyes wide, Ssilax looks at Wrathe, confusion in his sapphire orbs. Blinking a few times, the dragonkin slowly sits up, wincing as he does so. Looking around, the apprentice mage rubs his shoulder, glancing at the ruins of a chair that he landed on. Angling his head upwards, he looks at the faint outline of the trapdoor above them and shudders.
"...I'm okay," Ssilax says as he gingerly gets to his feet, taking a few moments to get his balance. Slowly rotating his left arm, he hisses in pain. "Ouch. I really hope we can find another way out. I don't want to go through that tunnel again." The dragonkin has a gift for stating the obvious. He looks over at Wrathe thinking about what he said. "You're lucky he didn't land on you. Squish!" the dragonkin says with a hint of a smile curling his muzzle.
With a happy bark, Dog runs over to Ssilax and presses up against the dragonkin, his tail whipping back and forth. Gently petting the canine, he brushes some of the singed fur off. At the mention of a treat, Dog looks over at Daxniss and pants, looking happy.
Seeing the imp statue that everyone is looking at, Ssilax hisses in surprise when it moves. Dog's hackles are up as he stares at the imp, but the canine is quiet. Heart pounding in his chest, the dragonkin stares at the oddly dressed imp, wondering how their luck could be so foul.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here? Six little meat sacks all in a pile." comes the unpleasant voice of he small fiend. It's surprisingly deep voice sounds like it's speaking through a mouth full of gravel and bile. "Put your rusty blades away, boy, before you hurt yourself with them," the imp looks at Argon with it's one good eye, filled with contempt.
The apprentices know that they would need some type of magical weapon, or some weapon made from a type of iron to hurt a devil, even a small one like an imp. They also are aware this ugly, child sized thing could probably kill them with little effort. The imp turns his head to Wrathe, sniffing the air.
"Huh, you smell like Asmodeus's cum rag. What, did your parents sell your soul to the devil?" the little creature says with mockingly sweet voice, followed with a laugh that almost sounds like nails down a blackboard.
Pulling a familiar looking Pass Stone from a small pouch he holds it up and looks at it as if it was a precious gemstone.
"Now, you wants to tell Uncle Zafe where you kids laid your hands on theses stones, don't you? Otherwise, I'm gonna have to make you tell me." the pirate imp smiles evilly as put the stone back in his little pouch.
Everyone realizes that their Pass Stones are missing.
Ssilax lets out an "Eep!" when the imp moves and begins to speak. The nervous dragonkin had jumped back from the fiend, eyeing it cautiously. At mention of soul selling, his sapphire orbs grow larger looking over at Wrathe. Timidly, he puts a clawed hand on his friend's shoulder and gently squeezes to reassure Wrathe that he wasn't alone.
When the imp pulls out one of the Pass Stones, Ssilax's maw drops open in surprise. The young dragonkin glances at his impact sight, knowing he didn't put his stone in a pocket before falling. Not that he would have been in the mind state to think that clearly.
Closing his mouth, Ssilax looks around at his friends.
"Don't hit it, you'll just make it mad," Ssilax cautions Argon. The apprentice mage looks over at the imp and swallows nervously.
"We were just asked to explore this place, that's all. We weren't gonna take anything, I promise!" Ssilax says to the fiend.
Taking wing, the imp lands on Ssilax's shoulder. The dragonkin lets out a terrified hiss, and Dog barks several times at the imp. With a motion that is near impossible to follow with the eyes, the fiend wraps his tail around the dragonkin's throat. The stinger rests underneath the boys left eye.
"That isn't the question I asked now is it?" "Uncle" Zafe stage whispers in his horrid voice. "And you can address me as Uncle Zafe, Uncle, or Zafe, not "it."" the imp gives the dragonkin's scaled cheek a little lick. "Yummm, you're so full of fear, I might just take a little bite to tide me over until supper." The imp smiles revealing a mouth full of fangs.
There doesn't seem to be a way in or out of the circular room that is strewn with debris from ruined furniture. At a quick guess, the room is perhaps 40-50 feet in diameter.
Wrathe remains stock still, pragmatically remaining silent, for he had experienced the torments of imps first hand and understood just how much trouble they were in.
" Well now, if you are trapped here along with the rest of us at the moment Zafe. We will tell you however, injuring us will not endear us to you; in return you give us the stones back, and let us live, unharmed and intact, even after we leave this place. " Daxniss says, her voice steady.
Daxniss feels the sudden flush of fear spiking through her body at the thought of seeing one of her companions being killed or maimed in front of her. Daxniss glances around at the others, wondering how they were going to get out of this one.
Argon pauses, and realizes his weapons will be ineffective against this creature, though he knows if he hits it hard enough he might be able to damage it. He wishes earnestly, but pointlessly, that Dainoth had equipped them with weapons appropriate to this task. Of course, Dainoth had erred in his assessment of the dangers of this mission.
He gives Daxniss a stern look. Of course, she had had different training from his, and her response shows it.
It occurs to Argon that if the rude creature could not be harmed by his weapons, he wouldn't care if they were in their scabbards or not. So, rather than put them away, he addresses the question asked. "Zafe, sir, we are not allowed to reveal why we are here, nor who we work for. Could we please have the stones back?" He could not bring himself to call the thing "Uncle".
In his training, they had had it beat into them that they should not give up the purpose of their mission, nor who they serve. He suspected it was more complicated than that, and that in some circumstances it would be best to lie, while in others the truth would even be acceptable. In yet other situations, they might have to die to keep the secret safe.