What was left of the Sticks licked their wounds and decided to press on. They descended to the next level by the grand staircase, keeping an eye through the gloom for trouble. It was dark, lit only by the light of Chrysagon's glowing shield and a flame that Qawasha held in his hand that flickered like a torch. Each step was a stone slab with the bones of dead workers piled under each riser. After their ordeal with the skeletons, it was difficult not to worry that the bones would suddenly reach out and grab their ankles.
At the bottom of this flight of stairs was a bronze plaque on the railing (which was still open to more levels below) that read simply "3: Vault of Reflection". Like the other plaques before it, the letters were stamped in twisted symbols that rearranged themselves into patters that could easily be read by whoever looked at them - the one kindness in an unkind place, though that now seemed like some sort of mockery.
The Tabaxi led the way, as they could most easily scamper to safety in case of trouble, and they were followed by Ussal and Ghorrak. By the time the others were down the stairs, the Tabaxi were holding their noses and scowling. Large patches of purplish-slime (some over a foot in hight) were piled in corners, creases, ledges, and niches. The slime was terribly smelly, a mixture of bile and rotting fruit.
Braapp howled and explained to Myrral in squeaking whines that he had seen an eyeball peeking out of a pile of slime. It looked right at him, he explained, and then disappeared.
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OOC:
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Short Rest then where to?
1) West: wide hall to the left; 2) North; 3) South; 4) Down another level.
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