Artemis grabs the glass with red liquid - "I say we drink it in order" - he suggests.
"I agree Artemis," Mirinde nods as she picks up the gold flask.
Clancy nods, hoping they aren't about to quaff some kind of virulent poison or the like. He motions to Artemis, raising his own vial in a sort of toast. "Red first, then? And on down the line?
Roscoe shrugs in agreement but makes sure to be last in line to make sure nobody else dies from poison before drinking.
"Bottoms up!" - Artemis nods in agreement, and once they have settled on an order, he drinks up!
One by one, you drink the potions in order from crimson to plum. Once Roscoe drinks the final potion, all of your eyes begin to weep rainbow tears! These tears swiftly grow in size and coagulate to create a rainbow bridge across the gap in the floor. The bridge is solid, and you are able to walk across it and open the door on the far side.
Once you do, you find yourselves transported back to the main chamber. The staircase above you extends another 20 feet. It is now two-fifths of the way to the ceiling.
The idea of tears making a solid bridge is unnerving, but somehow not surprising. They all have, after all, seen much stranger things during their time together. Once they are assembled in the hall again, the cleric reaches for the third door. "Enlightenment, then. Mister Wanderful? You might want to pay attention here. I believe you could use some of this." And then he opens the door...
The world around you shifts, and you find yourselves standing upon the highly-polished marble floor of a grand hall. Ten glittering stone pillars support a vaulted ceiling adorned with painted images of pastoral life. The hall is lit brightly by flambeaux affixed to the pillars and bearing ivory tapers. The strains of music drift through the air, hauntingly beautiful in the unoccupied chamber.
Interwoven between the notes, you detect a strong feminine voice speaking in your native tongue. “There is an absence in this oasis of perfection,” the voice says. “If thou art a true champion of Law, take steps—however dire—to address this absence. Through its presence you shall pass your trial.”
Moments after the voice speaks, translucent dancers of great beauty appear in the hall, engaging in complex courtly rounds. They ignore you entirely, as they dance.
Clancy frowns slightly as the dancers appear, the words of that voice still ringing in his mind. "An absence. Hmm..." The cleric watches the translucent figures with an eye for detail. Are they paired up? Are any dancing alone? Does their dance seem to be 'missing' anything he can discern? As a farmer, he'd shared more than a few dances with his sisters at the village fair as a youngster - and as he got a bit older with some of the local girls that caught his eye (and he theirs) - but he was certainly no expert, especially with a courtly dance such as this one. Still, all he could do was try...
Artemis wades in to walk among the dancers, admiring their beauty up close.
Mirinde studies the scene with a cool calculation here, unmoved by the beauty before her. "Perhaps the steps referred to are dancing steps?" She muses.
There are six pairs of ghostly dancers moving through their routines. All of the dancers have partners. Clancy doesn't notice anything particularly odd about their movements. Up close, Artemis can see that they are all quite beautiful, both the men and the women. They move and swirl around the thief in complex patterns.
"As a 'true' champion of Law, enlighten me about what is missing." He pointedly says to Clancy. "Maybe we need to add someone ugly to the dancers for balance. You should go bop the ball."
"Perhaps we must pair up and join them"?
Roscoe eyes the others for the most... comfortable dancing partner.
"Maybe we need to copy them?" - Artemis ponders for a second if that would be viable, then bows before Mirinde - "Milady, care to dance?" - he smiled playfully.
Mirinde's eyes widen in surprise before she smiles in return, "Very well, I would be honored to have this dance!" she then gracefully steps into Artemis' arms.
Clancy smiles as the discussion evolves. "That is certainly a possibility, and one I hadn't considered. I see nothing else that appears absent, whether in their steps, their appearance, or their... Wait. There is music, but no musicians. Could that be the absence?" If nothing of the like is apparent, Clancy will nod his agreement with Roscoe's and Artemis' plan. "Six dancers, and six of us. Each of us follows a pair - or perhaps even step into their bodies and try to replicate their dancing?" The cleric turns to Zathra and bows. "Will you dance with me, Zathra?" He blushes slightly, as he speaks on. "It might be best if you lead, for I have two left feet - or so the ladies have always told me."
Mister Wanderful wonders if the dancers are 'real' or figments. He touches a couple dancing by. He then watches the dance of one couple, memorizing their dance moves.
Clancy glances over at Mister Wanderful, watching as the elf reaches out to touch one of the couples. And then he looks on in chagrin as he realizes his mistake. "Six pairs of dancers, not six dancers. I should have paid more attention in my classes - though I was usually to busy helping my pa. Anyway, what are you thinking, Mister Wanderful? Do we each of us step in and dance with a ghostly partner instead of with each other?"
Zathra matches Clancy's blush when he asks her to dance. "Uh, okay," says the muscular warrior.
But before she can take the cleric's hands, Mister Wanderful reaches out to touch a dancing couple. The dancers respond by attempting to slam into the elf!
Fortunately, the elf's armor keeps him safe from harm. The couple then dances away again. But as you look around, you notice the other pairs of dancers are starting to drift closer to you...
“There is an absence in this oasis of perfection, If thou art a true champion of Law, take steps—however dire—to address this absence. Through its presence you shall pass your trial." Repeats the elf to the group.
"The couples are chaotic in their dance. Slaughter the dancers to fix the chaos." Explains Mister Wanderful while pulling free his bow.
"WAIT!" Clancy calls out as Mister Wanderful draws his bow. "Their dancing doesn't seem particularly chaotic to me, they only struck you when you interfered with them. The voice said to 'take steps', that sounds like a dance to me. Let us try this peaceably first, rather than resort to violence. Besides, we are outnumbered, if you hadn't noticed." With that, the cleric takes the muscular warrior woman's hands, gives her an encouraging smile, and tries to dance in step with the ghosts. Or, at least, he tries his best to do so...
Roscoe grins silently at the only remaining dance partner and holds out his hands with a bow towards Mister Wanderful.
"Well... Let's get this over with... and never speak of it again".
Roscoe grins silently at the only remaining dance partner and holds out his hands with a bow towards Mister Wanderful.
"Well... Let's get this over with... and never speak of it again".
"You know that imbecile will eventually get us all killed." He says and then sighs heavily and stores his bow. When Roscoe reaches out with his hands, Mister Wanderful starts dancing. "You're such a flaming 'Mo." He says with a lisp.
Paired up, the six of you begin to dance, matching the steps of the ghostly dancers. You spin and twirl around the room. The flickering candelabra illuminate the room, casting.... casting...
Roscoe is the first to notice it. Despite the bright lights from the candles, nothing in the room casts a shadow!
The pair of dancers nearest Clancy and Zathra twirl about, colliding with Clancy before spinning off again!
"Can we slaughter them now?!"
"Ouch! Hey, watch it!" Clancy shouts at the couple that collide with them. Turning to Mister Wanderful, he growls at the elf. "No! I'd hate to see what happens if this turns into a pitched battle! And besides, I don't even think they're doing it on purpose. Something is... off..."
Once his attention is brought to the lack of shadows, the cleric shakes his head and looks around with alarm. "Well... how do we fix this? Make our own lights?"
Mirinde tears her attention away from the pleasant sensation of dance here as she finally notices what Clancy had noticed...
"Yes, Shadows, that is what is missing!" she nods excitedly, "We must light our torches here!"
Clancy looks at Zathra and smiles apologetically. "Excuse me a moment, maybe we can continue this later?" Then he dives into his backpack, grabbing flint and steel along with torches. "I have five, along with a lantern. Six pairs of dancers, maybe we each take a pair and follow them with a light that allows them to cast shadows? Here, let's try one of them first and see if it works." The cleric lights one of the torches and hands it to Zathra, taking a few seconds to use that one to light another that he continues to hold. "Stand next to the nearest couple, see if this light causes them to throw shadows. Maybe that's why they bumped us, they didn't see us or something. Be careful in case we're wrong, they hit hard." He uses the torch in his hand to light the other three he has, handing them off to the others.
As you light the torches, you see that the light from the flames cast shadows as normal. Holding them towards the dancers causes each pair to move away from you.
Once all six torches are lit, the shadows they cast slowly crawl across the floor to form a pool of blackness that resembles a doorway. Stepping into that pool returns you to the hub room, where the staircase continues to grow towards the glowing light above, now three-fifths of the way there.
Clancy shakes his head as they move through the pool of blackness and back into the hub. "Weird. I'm glad you noticed the lack of shadows, Roscoe. That could have turned nasty quick." He pauses as he reaches for the next door, then turns to the others. "Sacrifice. Mister Wanderful, let's not jump to any quick conclusions about this particular room, okay? I'd rather not have to keep looking over my shoulder." He glances at each of the others to make sure they're ready, then he opens the door.
*whimpers*
The door opens not unto a chamber, but a scene of carnage, one you’re immediately dropped into the midst of. You stand in the center of a small village under an overcast sky. Panicked citizens flee in terror and screams of pain fill the air. Before you is a churning horror, a formless monstrosity the size of a cathedral! This demonic thing lashes out with dripping tendrils, shoveling a screaming villager into one of its hundred mouths. Buildings collapse as the beast roils over them, heading in your direction.
A voice, quiet and childlike, speaks softly, yet is somehow heard amidst the violence. “From mighty hero to simple goodwife, those who walk the path of righteousness must give of themselves at times for another’s salvation, paying that price with body, talent, art, and sometimes, even one’s life.”
"Hey Clancy, do you want to distribute torches again?"
"I do not believe torches will help us here, unless you wish to get a good look at the abomination's gullet!" Mirinde calls out. Contemplating the words she gets a chill down her spine as the word's import strikes her.
I am supposed to give my life...here? How? Willingly allow myself to be devoured, or attempt to save one of these...townsfolk?
As Mirinde ponders giving her life away, she feels a tingle as if her very soul was suddenly enervated and awaiting action. She hears the same quiet, childlike voice whisper, “Would you do so of your own free will? How much of yourself would you be willing to part with?"
Mister Wanderful grits his teeth. He growls begrudgingly. "Fine. take my spell Feather Fall."
"...And losing a spell is not a great idea. I mean, will you sacrifice me? No master. Please don't..."
Mister Wanderful feels a tingling sensation as the knowledge of the feather fall spell fades from his mind. At the same time, the Beast roars and recoils, wounds appearing across its body! It snarls and shakes off the pain as it prepares to resume its rampage!
"I don't get it - are we supposed to let ourselves be killed by that thing?" - Artemis boggles - "Is this some kind of parlor trick or something? Can't we just bribe it with gold?"
"I sincerely hope not" Mirinde replies to Artemis, Although it would not be surprising...Perhaps magic would be enough here, Mirinde thinks.
"Very well take my magic Mending spell from me." She responds to the childlike voice.
Mirinde's knowledge of the mending spell fades away, and another wound appears on the Beast's body. It is bloodied but not bowed!
"I don't get it - are we supposed to let ourselves be killed by that thing?" - Artemis boggles - "Is this some kind of parlor trick or something? Can't we just bribe it with gold?"
"The sacrifice is something deeply personal, not a splash of gold." says the elf.
Realizing he has no magic or particularly important items to sacrifice... (Well except for his nice calf-skin gloves. ) Roscoe blurts out something in return.
"I willingly sacrifice the ability to speak the language of my birth".
Roscoe forgets how to speak Halfling as a small injury appears on the Beast. It is not quite as big as the ones the elves' spell sacrifices caused.
"Something personal..?" - the thief seems truly puzzled - "What? My independence? My agency? I don't have any magical powers I can 'dispose of' - he growled, extending his wrists - "Heck! Will a pint of blood do?"
Artemis's vitality drains as another wound opens on the Beast. It is larger than the one Roscoe caused but smaller than the ones from the elves. The monster appears to be seriously injured now.