D&D 5E The Kalarian Precipice - Chapter Five

Otiroth: The Carven Door

A nod to the dwarf, and Otiroth would briefly go to his pack, pulling out some rations. They were doing well in that regard, as far as actual physical and base sustenance went, but Otiroth had to admit... eating nothing but hardtack was wearing on his spirit more than his stomach! It mattered little, ultimately- he was just spoiled, perhaps.

Either way, it was good the dwarf was hungry.

"What do you hunger for, friend dwarf? Rations will be as rough on the stomach as anything," especially if the dwarf had note eaten real food for awhile, but Otiroth wasn't about to scold some dwarf and tell him to eat slowly like he was a child, "but a bit of flavor is not entirely out of the question."

Depending on what the dwarf answered, he could flavor the rations as such- maybe even chill or warm them, too, before handing the small wrapped pack over to their demihuman companion.

Otiroth enjoyed using his mysticism in such a way, to try and make someone's day at least a bit more pleasant. It was mundane application, but sometimes using the fantastic to assist the mundane was the best they could do.

<Prestidigitation to flavor the food>
<Insight check=10>

Jeovanna's mind was indeed on the gnolls, though her thoughts were taking a circuitous, unhelpful route.

She had been told that some gnolls were themselves as bad as demons. Did she believe it? Yes, if only because the ones that had told her as much had been the pack themselves. But having seen full-blooded fiends now... she would not like to meet such gnolls without being able to put forth a display of great strength.

Not that such a thing had ever been a problem for Jeovanna. Her size and strength had more often than not been a hindrance before... but not down here. Not with her new pack. Even the fury had meaning down here. It brought a new perspective on a part of herself that she reviled.

Kravikus' horn was still in her pack, as were the bat skins, and she wondered- what greater display of strength was there than armor set with the horn of a slain demon?

Ah, but, all thoughts were vanity. The pack would survive this descent, but would they find anything that would help Kalair survive? Were they strong enough?

Perhaps it did not matter. They need only hunt.

Carthum's mind is also on the past, but his eyes still cut the darkness.

Late nights spent studying Suru's teachings from old tomes and older priests. He should have perhaps spent more time on theory than on crushing melons with his mace. Still, he retraces memories of training that are still quite fresh, as despite their perilous trip, he is still a young acolyte of the faith.

The symbols in the great temple- they were old runes, carefully painted into the shape of Suru's light.

He had been taught to stand true against demons, but were any of those tales told... could they have referred to the demons down here?

<History check for fun: 21>

Dain listened to the sounds of the sea. It made sense, actually. But had they come that far?

Creeping forward, he moved down the tunnel another ten feet.

He stopped and let his senses reach out.

<Passive perception 15>

The Carven Door

Metea’s newly crafted symbol sits happily alongside the originals, an excellent duplication of their style, form and size. As she then works on a transcription into her personal tome, Magaw moves closer to the wall, hovering in front of each in turn. At the last, on the right, he pauses.

“Oh…”

Something is tickling an old memory. The skull tilts sideways like a curious mind attached to an invisible neck. The Tiefling alone notices Magaw’s reaction, like he knows a little more than is currently being vocalized...

The dwarf gratefully accepts Otiroth’s offer of food, and moves towards him.

“Rough? You underestimate the power of me gut!” He slaps a hand against his once bulbous belly and grins. “I hunger for sunshine, family and peace. But for now, a well-done venison with a brushing of herbs, oh could you imagine?”

Miraculously, the dried meat tastes wonderful. The little jaw rips and chews at it greedily until he is about half way through. Then a deep look of anxiety and suspicion forms in his eyes.

“Too good to be true. Now, don’t get me wrong lad, but that can only be magic. Your group, you’re law-breakers aint ya? Question is, why are ya ere, and why did you help me? Don’t worry, I won’t dibbadob, owe yas me life, even if ya brought me outta hell into a new one.”

Carthum has plenty of time to rack his brain and think about hell, and demons. Such creatures have rarely formed part of Kalair’s recorded history. A few great spiritualists claim to have traveled between the planes over the ages, and witnessed such despicable creatures of blood, heat and death, but here on Marix soil? Yes, the existence of Tieflings is widely accepted, even though with a degree of hesitation. Perhaps some past transverser of planes became corrupted, or sealed a deal with members of their kind, and along the way two bloods become intertwined. As for full-blooded demonfolk at work within Marix’s underdark… the priest has grounds for concern! What they have witnessed thus far will be of immense interest to Suru’s higher order!

Enticed by the sounds of a faraway ocean, Dain has moved further into the dark. Shifting position, he can see that the passage turns right after another twenty feet or so, but so far there is no change to his perceptions. The familiar voices of his friends far behind and their trickle of light. Shadows and pitch-black mystery ahead. The slightest hiss of some distant sea...

Metea's gaze has turned towards the gemstone above. If they cannot open the door, then surely sealing it is the next best step. "Magaw- do you know what happens if we break the stone? Will it prevent the gate from opening again?"

She was not too familiar with the properties of gemstones, obviously, but they looked so glasslike and pure- perhaps they would shatter?

The tiefling had raised one hand to try blasting it- her eldritch energy was more 'pain magic' than anything, but it might be able to affect a gemstone- but paused as the skull-face of Magaw seemed to look troubled. Well, insofar as he could wear expressions... without skin and all. "Are you alright? What's the matter? Magaw, please, anything you might know, even if it seems silly to you, will surely help!"

Carthum shifted in his armor- turned back towards the others as they continued to prod at the door. Yes, he had been listening!

"We cannot risk the door opening and allowing fiends to freely wander again, Metea," he said. "Is the gem a seal- or a power source?" Were they even demons beyond, or was it a key lock to great treasure? Could they risk treasure when the trap was yet another plague upon Kalair?

Perhaps he had been thinking about this the wrong way...

<Arcana check=20>

Otiroth grimaces at the dwarf. "Magic? Indeed. And if we hadn't, you'd still be stuck in a pillar of demon filth. Prospecting and mining in closed mines- that's also quite illegal, isn't it?" They were in the same boat, here. Very curious that the dwarf would try and get any kind of leverage.

The sorcerer stood once more. "We will take one more shot at this- then we should move on. Carthum is right- better to seal the door permanently on the off chance it could summon a demon," and he cast one hand forward at the rune of flames. If prestidigitation flames would not work- perhaps it needed to be more aggressive?

<Spellcasting- firebolt>

Jeovanna was keeping her watch- then frowned, as if she sensed something... not quite right.

Turning back towards the others, she'd find mostly darkness beyond- she could not see that Dain had disappeared into the tunnel! In act, the torchlight may have more blinded her than anything.

The barbarian grimaced, licking her teeth for a moment, before turning back to watch. They should be moving on soon. Any gemstones taken by the demons would be long gone, she imagined.

Dain - The Carven Door

Dain frowned in the darkness, his mind spinning over and over as it tried to make sense of things. At the edge of his mind, a sensation was gnawing at him. An itch he needed to scratch, a tingle that demanded attention.

Is it nerves? Or is it you, Essithea? These caverns are barren and lifeless, so different than the moss-lined caves that are sacred to you, flowing with water from the roots of the earth. I am here searching…for gems, for sacred stones…and for my past. Maybe I search for too much at once?

The sound of the sea drew him forward again, into the tunnel beyond the small room. His newfound vision in the dark was still a novelty, still something that filled him with awe and wonder at the world and its many mysteries. His head turned around, and through the darkness he searched for the others. He recalled Annit's face, the curve of her neck and the shape of her collarbones, delicate and fine.

He resisted going back to check on the others, and instead continued on. He could hear them talking, Carthum's voice echoing across the chamber.

Once inside the second tunnel, he knelt down on one knee. The itch had become a sensation that could not be ignored. He put his sword across his shoulder and bowed his head. Taking a long and quiet breath inward, he let it out slowly, closing his eyes.

I seek to know…these twisting paths and carven halls…what souls do wander here?

He felt his awareness expanding, seeking out beyond him. His grip tightened on his sword.

<Primeval Awareness>