D&D 5E The Kalarian Precipice - Chapter Five

[Carthum One-Tusk]

Carthum One-Tusk: The Carven Door

Ah, it was good to have his mace again!

Carthum kept an eye on the dwarf, too. Metea had been up to her old tricks of late, and he'd hate for her to traumatize the weakened dwarf. The brew was strong.

They were all agreed not to step into the cooled lava pit, then. Carthum took up guard near the far entrance, the one they had come down- just in case anything was following them... Annit could keep his lit stone for now!

 

[Metea]

Metea's eyes lit up as Otiroth tried to use flame on the... flame symbol. But that symbol on the right- was it water? Well, perhaps she could give it a try?

She'd pour a bit of water from her canteen into the palm of her hand- ugh, the water was warmer than the air around them- and focus a bit. The water danced in her palm- did Otiroth see?- and then would flick little droplets of water at the symbol.

Of course, if it were mystical runes, they'd need to activate all four at once, surely. "Well, Magaw?" She hoped he hadn't gotten too comfortable in her pack! "Any of the rest look familiar?"

And the dwarf? She'd tickle his nose with the tip of her tail.

<Spell casting: shape water, cantrip>

 

[97mg]

The Carven Door

“For you I shall,” Otiroth's stone replies to the sorcerer's subconscious.

“Name my task.”

Then his small flame begins to lick at the wall, dancing against the carving of fire. There is no doubt in Otiroth's mind that these symbols hide some magical power, he can almost feel it radiating against his hand, but such prestidigitation isn't the key. Alas, nothing happens.

The sensation is similar for Metea as she carefully wets the rightmost symbol. They are close. The magic is designed to be reactive. Unfortunately though, water is not the reagent required. “One of these is yours. The gift... pleases me,” says the quiet tones of her patron’s voice, as though from a distance, and fading away as quickly as they arrived.

Magaw pops out of her pack then. “I promise you I have behaved myself, after all, the contents of a lady’s bag are not to be spoken of,” he says nodding to her in thanks for the concealment. Then it is time to view the carvings that have attracted the mage’s interest.

“Well these are special aren't they? Not seen these markings before, anywhere else in the mines.” Rotating on the spot, he then looks out across the dark, mirror-smooth circular sunken floor.

“But I can guess what that is, or used to be before Immel carved up the pie. The fiends, the devils, the imps, all came out of that. Lucky for us I guess, that it is closed for business.”

The dwarf stirs then, sucking down a snorish gob of air and exhaling a raggard breath before opening his eyes.

“Hell. I should have guessed. Not every man have the lux o’ walking the straight path all his years.”

He doesn't seem afraid. No, he's just very confused. Then he wipes his lips on a sleeve and remembers. An act of kindness. The taste of a rather unique ale.

“Oh, ,” he grunts, leaning forwards and moving into a sitting position.

“Where am I?”

Annit decides on a guarding position at the northmost tunnel on the area's east side. She slides in a little way, before attempting to let her shadow become one with the dark. Like a fox disappearing at night, the rogue is gone from view. Still and silent she rests, and waits...

<Magaw arcana check for symbols = 5.
Annit stealth check =28.
Is Oti asking his gem for the “message” cantrip?
Map coming later.>

 

[daindarkspring]

Dain - The Carven Door

With his back to the wall, Dain sat amid the darkness. Was it still darkness? Could he call it that, now that it offered its secrets to him so willingly?

No. He could not. He should not.

Darkness was his past. Darkness was his life before Kalair.

He would call it the shadows. But not the darkness.

With his newfound vision, he scanned the blade of his sword. The symbol that had emerged on it, when he had pulled it from the earth...it was a mystery of his new life. Was it in any way connected to his previous one? Did it matter?

Closing his eyes briefly, his heart beat in his ears as he saw again a vision of the outline of a throne, backlit by some great light behind it. A voice, a woman's voice, could be heard, but the words were like in a dream; nonsensical and elusive.

Blinking his eyes open, he took another bite of food. He rested. And he waited. And he watched and listened. The pain in his chest, the burning pain, was slowly subsiding.

<Stealth = 6>
<Perception = 24>
<If an hour passes for a short rest, rolled 6 to regain hit dice. I think that puts him at 23/30 HP>

 

[Metea]

"Magaw- is this an infernal portal? A gate?" Metea asked. She looked at it a bit more warily, now. A gate directly to the nine hells, or just the nine hells' waiting room? "If so, we shouldn't be trying to open it."

Her hands came close to the symbols- she could feel the heat on the stone from where Otiroth had burned them, the cool mist from the stone on the right. Fascinating, beautiful, tempting. But actually opening a Gate would be disastrous! Worse than disastrous! Kalair was not ready for a freely opened gate, nor was anywhere else?

"But... it does not seem to be awake. Unless this is a back door, and the main door has opened elsewhere," Metea murmured.

She heard her patron's voice. She felt it. That there was something here, still something to investigate.

She mulled it over, for a bit, before turning back to the dwarf. "You're on the path of flames. Demon territory. But don't worry. It's still Marix." She could be at least mostly certain of that!

"Mold earth," she murmured. Next to the strange tree sigil, she'd try and create a temporary symbol in the stone of her own. A circle, and... well, she'd try to get it right... elemental magic! The purest of forms! A small triangle-shape within the circle itself...

<Arcana check=16>

 

[Carthum One-Tusk]

Carthum is not even trying to hide, honestly. His guard position is more one of contemplation, though his eyes scan the darkness. The faint light from dancing lights in the distance enough to allow his orcish eyes to see.

In his head, he recites old prayers to Suru, and imagines himself in the shining metal armor of knights of old. Foolish day dreams. He should focus.

A short rest is enough to steady their spirits, but enough only for short prayers. Still, he feels some measure of Suru's light returning to him, and it is enough.

<If this is a successful short rest, Carthum will regain his Channel divinity, praise Suru>

 

[Otiroth]

"Hmm."

"Indeed, if you feel fit to move, come sit with us," the sorcerer offered the dwarf. "We have, after all, been traveling together some time now."

Infernal portal? Possibly. Either that, or a store room. The sorcerer sits down cross-legged in front of the door to continue investigating it further, taking a moment to center his thoughts. His thoughts fall upon Whisper once more, though. Their silent communication seemed a gem of a hint, and the stone's talent needed to be heard- even if the others could not understand it.

Otiroth knew of the spell; a cantrip written to be used regularly by wizards, but here in the hands of dragon and gem. Message.

<Will try and attune the red gemstone to the cantrip Message>
<On a successful short rest, Otiroth will regain 5 hp with one die spent- should bring him to 17/18 hp after Carthum's healing>

 

[Jeovanna]

Jeovanna could see little beyond the torchlight, and she was not sure how much her limited vision helped. Glancing up and down the hall for a moment, the woman found an outcropping of gnawed rock just beyond the tunnel entrance to stick the torch into- that way, at least her hands were free- and then would step back towards the main room.

She might not be able to keep a great eye on the area beyond, but she would certainly notice something stepping into the torchlight!

Half crouching and half leaning near the entryway, she'd try to at least make herself less completely obvious to anything that might dare to approach them. Perhaps, if something did approach them down this tunnel, both sides would be equally surprised!

<Perception check-6>
<Stealth check-17>

 

[97mg]

The Carven Door

Annit remains quiet in the darkness, resting both mind and body. The underdark of Kalair is changing them, changing them all. She feels not the frail young thief that entered not so long ago. The magic of this place is inescapable, invisible and clinging. Somehow, it has also made her a little stronger. Much of the burning pain has subsided, and thanks to the priest’s quick decision-making, all that remains is tender reddened dryness. Nothing that won’t heal naturally.

Silently focused, the ranger might wonder if his ears are playing tricks on him. Is darkness, like the innards of a seashell, creating the sounds of a rolling distant sea? The movement of stale fiend-stenched air, weaving through tunnels deep beneath the earth? Or perhaps his highly tuned ears do not lie. The ocean is close?

Magaw hangs around with Otiroth and Metea, intrigued to be in the presence of fellow mages. A young duo on the precipice of ensuring some imminent doom? Or standing on the edge of some great discovery, a corner-piece of this great underworld enigma?

“Perhaps,” he says in response to Metea’s hell hole theory. “If I was a betting man which I undoubtedly am, I’d say this portal of sorts, as you call it, allowed the access of beasts usually reserved for the outer planes. Imagine it, easy access to Kalair’s greatest concentration of power. A slow and constant theft, of what is rightfully the property of people such as yourselves, from above.”

"Ah! Speaking of above..." He moves over to face the first symbol on the left. "If the circles are people, then this one is above, is it not?"

Demons. Marix. The tiefling made it believable. The dwarf shuffled backwards in a moment of fear, before realizing that not all in attendance were of devil-touched blood.

“Never heard o’ a path o’ flames, but demons…”

Shakily he stands, “... I got a few scores to settle with em!”

A bit wobbly on his feet, he looks to a bright looking young man. Otiroth.

“Hey fella, you got any grub? What you poking at there on the wall? And that head, some trickery of yours?”

The group’s words float from a distance into Jeovanna’s ears, as she patiently waits. Restraint was rarely on the menu with her Gnoll-bred kin, but she is doing well. Even the Gnolls, infamous for living in the vicious immediacy of the moment, knew when patience was a virtue. Better to let the prey come to you in situations such as this. For now though, all is still, and a short rest looks to be attainable.

<Metea / Otiroth roll Insight please. Everyone else can continue to rest or explore as they wish >

 

[Metea]

Metea's tail twitches a bit- always quick to find some condemnation of her demonic blood, it takes very little for Metea to read such into even the most innocent of comments. The dwarf probably doesn't mean anything by anything he says at the moment, honestly. he still seemed a bit confused and shaky, but perhaps he'd be able to walk from here on out, which she was sure Jeovanna would appreciate.

"A slow funneling of gems into the abyss, hm?" Metea murmurs, focusing on Magaw at the moment. "It would make sense. And if the mines dried up, it'd make sense they abandoned the place," Metea was silent for a moment. "A few last prospectors and whelps, staying behind for their own reasons..." like the whelps above ground, which now seemed like feral beasts compared to Kravikus and the ooze demons.

The symbols now copied safely in her book, she'd attempt to puzzle them out more directly, but the idea of giving any additional sacrifices to the demons seemed... unwise.

<Insight check=17>