97mg
Explorer
The Carven Door
Sela smiles to the tiefling before turning to acknowledge the rest of the gathering with a nod, until her eyes fall on Magaw. There is a moment of hesitation as the fey-touched girl considers the floating head’s presence here. “Interesting choice,” she quietly mentions, “but everything happens for a reason, doesn’t it, old enemy of this darkly diverse world.”
The skull returns the woman’s gaze, teeth grinding.
“Oh little fey-slave, the battlefield you left behind, for it's dead to pick through the remains and fight among themselves. Care, proportional to gain, perhaps. Tell me, when did you last wash your hair?” he snaps at Sela mockingly.
With a deep sigh the pitchling lets the undead’s words hang in the air, before eventually responding. “You, Magaw, undead general, may have just done your first good deed in a very, very long time, baldie.”
“Well then, consider me a changed man, in form and in nature little one! This merry troupe of travelers has done good by me, so I chose to do good in return. Not for you or your hag, but for a fresh breeze that visits our hovel, with some purpose greater than our ancient quarrelling.”
There is a history here, but for the dwarf it is all just too confusing and out of context.
“What the Hollob’s balls is going on!” His voice is gruff and impatient. Two stray eyes still linger on the enormous gem from time to time too. “That stone, I swear it makes my snake stiffen…”
Carefully, and ignoring the dwarf’s pension for vulgarity, Sela positions herself before the symbol of a being trapped beneath the earth, reaching up to dab it lightly with an index finger.
“Fear not. This protection was placed here to ensure that the entrance only be accessible through a union, a cooperation of once enemies, seeking Immel’s words. No fiend alone, nor hairless and spine-deprived walking stench of death may do this in solitude. It forms a… spirit of cooperation. A prerequisite for company with the cliff’s true keeper.”
As before, blue light drifts upon the pale and dark haired woman also, and the final edge to the carven door turns from stone to light-admitting gap. She pushes then, the door fading away into nothingness at her touch, revealing a set of white, pock-filled and almost bone-consistency steps that lead down. It is an incredible sight. They are formed of coral. Without beaches or easy access to the sea, such marine life specimens are seldom seen first-hand.
“I will lead you down, if you wish,” she says, catching Dain’s eye and noting his sword at the ready. She smiles then, as you taste the first hint of fresh air for many hours, and natural light spills down upon the steps from a hole ahead in the ceiling. The sky above is still stained with red and yellow hues, and the air still thick with The Sands blown heat.
Sela smiles to the tiefling before turning to acknowledge the rest of the gathering with a nod, until her eyes fall on Magaw. There is a moment of hesitation as the fey-touched girl considers the floating head’s presence here. “Interesting choice,” she quietly mentions, “but everything happens for a reason, doesn’t it, old enemy of this darkly diverse world.”
The skull returns the woman’s gaze, teeth grinding.
“Oh little fey-slave, the battlefield you left behind, for it's dead to pick through the remains and fight among themselves. Care, proportional to gain, perhaps. Tell me, when did you last wash your hair?” he snaps at Sela mockingly.
With a deep sigh the pitchling lets the undead’s words hang in the air, before eventually responding. “You, Magaw, undead general, may have just done your first good deed in a very, very long time, baldie.”
“Well then, consider me a changed man, in form and in nature little one! This merry troupe of travelers has done good by me, so I chose to do good in return. Not for you or your hag, but for a fresh breeze that visits our hovel, with some purpose greater than our ancient quarrelling.”
There is a history here, but for the dwarf it is all just too confusing and out of context.
“What the Hollob’s balls is going on!” His voice is gruff and impatient. Two stray eyes still linger on the enormous gem from time to time too. “That stone, I swear it makes my snake stiffen…”
Carefully, and ignoring the dwarf’s pension for vulgarity, Sela positions herself before the symbol of a being trapped beneath the earth, reaching up to dab it lightly with an index finger.
“Fear not. This protection was placed here to ensure that the entrance only be accessible through a union, a cooperation of once enemies, seeking Immel’s words. No fiend alone, nor hairless and spine-deprived walking stench of death may do this in solitude. It forms a… spirit of cooperation. A prerequisite for company with the cliff’s true keeper.”
As before, blue light drifts upon the pale and dark haired woman also, and the final edge to the carven door turns from stone to light-admitting gap. She pushes then, the door fading away into nothingness at her touch, revealing a set of white, pock-filled and almost bone-consistency steps that lead down. It is an incredible sight. They are formed of coral. Without beaches or easy access to the sea, such marine life specimens are seldom seen first-hand.
“I will lead you down, if you wish,” she says, catching Dain’s eye and noting his sword at the ready. She smiles then, as you taste the first hint of fresh air for many hours, and natural light spills down upon the steps from a hole ahead in the ceiling. The sky above is still stained with red and yellow hues, and the air still thick with The Sands blown heat.
