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Farzin smiles at Rogvar’s stories.
”Oh, memories. I remember back when I was new,” Farzin says wistfully.
”Last month, boss?” squawks Papayo.
Farzon’s smile only broadens
”Regardless, as a member of the Vigilant Seal, I’ve heard many tales of Eando Kline too. Did he resign? Or could he be here, in disguise?”
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Eando Kline is alive and well, Flamel says, in charge of the Vigilant Seal faction of the Society. And Durvin Gest, of course, is one of the Society's founders. A portmanteau of the names suggests someone who only knows a smattering of the Society.
Gingerly stepping past the scarab beetles —Flamel does not care for bugs — they move to peer down the corridor to the north.
Rax advocates heading west, while Flamel takes a peek to the north. Looking down the northern corridor, Flamel can see that there is a door on the east side about fifteen feet down, and that the corridor turns to the west about fifteen feet past the door.
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"You're going RIGHT‽ Why not ask all the gods to crap on us at the same time? Gorum's grundle! We have to go left!" Rax moves to look south, pointing.
I don't know about you, Flamel says, a hint of annoyance in their voice, but I'd rather know if something is going to come up behind us. If you'd prefer to be ambushed, well, that's your own lookout.
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Rogvar advances a bit further, letting Olaf pass by while keeping a step or two behind Rax. "There's plenty of tales about a party divided. And equally a number of says that offer wisdom about sticking together. Things like, 'There's strength in numbers' or 'only a lone man can't be pulled from the mimic'. Take a peek, but let's head west. Which is left, obviously."
As the Pathfinders discuss the merits of sticking together - and skirt the blasphemous notion of not going left - Farzin reaches out with his senses, but does not detect any magic in this room.
As Olaf leads the way down the western corridor, his sharp eyes pick out something unusual about the floor tiles ahead. A closer inspection reveals that the tiles in a ten-foot square section of the hallway serve to trigger a trap! Stepping on any of these pressure-sensitive panels will cause a heavy stone slab hidden in a hallway’s ceiling to come crashing down on that part of the hallway.
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"Everyone back up a few steps and get clear", Olaf says with sudden authority as he crouches down and retrieves a tiny bundle of oiled leather. "Rax, I'm going to need you to hold your tongue for a moment. I need to concentrate."
The young northerner unfurls the leather bundle. Inside are a number of tiny iron files and picks. With practiced ease he sets to work winching the trapped tile open and securing it so the party can pass through the area safely.
Olaf deftly wedges a set of picks around the edge of the pressure plates, fixing them in place so that others can walk on them without setting off the trap!
With the trap deactivated behind them, the party moves cautiously into the large hallway ahead. To the south, it dead ends in a small display of statuary. To the north, the hallway ends in double doors, and branches east and west. A double door is directly ahead, on the western wall of the corridor.
Olaf studies the double doors, which are ornately carved in abstract motifs, and concludes they are neither locked nor trapped.
The doors open onto a large temple, with rows of pillars flanking a central walkway that leads to an elaborate altar, on which stands a ten-foot tall statute of a jackal-headed figure.
Standing by a pillar near the altar is a young man, wearing decent clothes but rather dusty with fine sand.
"Pretending to be one of you?" the man says, studying Rax a moment. "Why would I pretend to be an Ulfe-oh! A Pathfinder! You're Pathfinders too, how excellent!" He pauses as the questions continue, then replies, "I'm sure you've had to work under an alias from time to time, right? But when you run across other Pathfinders, you help them out, right? 'Explore, report, corroborate,' as we Pathfinders say!"
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Filbert grunts, recognizing the statue immediately. Clearing his throat, the older man gestures at the jackal and explains, "We've entered a place of Set, for those who don't know. Best watch our steps here, and don't go murdering each other... Set would like that. Never know what might happen in a place like this, if we went murdering each other."
Turning his grizzled face on the young man, the elder falls silent and just stares at the fellow meaningfully.
Farzin thinks that “Durvin” may be attempting to deflect the queries tossed at him as he says, ”You must take care! Something corrupt still lurks within this place. When I first arrived, it was pitch-black down here, and there was an eerie moaning sound in the walls. I suggest you keep the braziers lit at all times!”
As he says this, the braziers illuminating this room all fail, plunging the temple into blackness! A disturbing moan fills the sanctum of Set and, as the light from the braziers gradually flickers back to life, and the faux-Pathfinder gasps in horror as the large statue begins to move!
It strides forward, its stony hand held high, and brings it smashing down on Rogvar, trying to grab him as it strikes!
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"Damn! Should have seen that coming", Olaf curses when the statue suddenly springs to life and attacks.
He raps the butt of his staff on the stone floor sending a pulse of magic through the weapon's length. Before the construct can strike again, he steps into position and bashes it twice in rapid succession. "Get it off Rogvar!"
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Rogvar holds his shield up, but the statue is able to batter aside the protection and grab hold of the man. "Oww!"
He quickly tries to break free, using a foot to push against the statue.
The deft kick allows him to break free, and shifts position.
"Cut it down, folks!" he shouts. He raises his shield and draws his longsword.
Olaf gives the figure of Set a powerful thwack, though it turns out to be hard to damage the stone material of the statue. His second strike misses! Rogvar uses his shield to soften the statue’s blow, then slips from its grasp deftly! Rax cuts from the left and chips some stone from the statue! His strike from the right connects, but barely seems to make a dent in Set’s seriously stony surface. Flamel dances around the statue, but misses with their attack!
Filbert’s glob of acidic spittle hits the statue and runs harmlessly off its stony skin! Farzin’s spell does not seem to incite jealousy in “Durvin” as he might have hoped. The false Pathfinder runs away in terror of the rampaging statue! Said statue rampages on, smashing once at Olaf and once at its slippery nemesis, Rogvar!
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"Come on, folks! We're Pathfinders, made of the sternest stuff there is! Some old statue won't lay us low!" Rogvar shouts, inspiring courage in the team. His words seem to carry weight, each tone inflected with a hint of magic.
He then swings his sword at the statue of Set, hoping to find a weak point in the stone.
Expecting the worst, he then raises his shield to ward off retaliation from the construct.
Buoyed by Rogvar’s inspiring words, Rax lands three powerful strikes with his sword on the statue, each one cracking it more than the last! Rogvar joins the party, whacking the statue and chipping off a bit more stone! It is missing significant chunks of its face, most of a shoulder, and nearly all of its elaborate headwear, but the stone figure fights on!
Olaf attempts to wriggle free but can't get out of the statue's grip! He swings his staff but misses!