Chapter 45
Standing in front of the entrance to the temple to Aish, Bilwin shakes his head in horror at its desecration. “That these…these…heathens would do such a thing to another divinity’s sacred place of being is completely…unconscionable!” Without turning to the group, his earnestness is apparent. “We must make this right.”
Standing behind Bilwin, the rest of the group stares into the 8-foot wide entrance with the double doors swung open, seeing only impenetrable darkness. Curious at what might be inside, Grindlefoot picks up a small rock and tosses it towards the doorway. Without looking away from the entrance, Bilwin’s arm snakes out and his hand grabs the stone out of the air as it flies by.
Turning his head slightly towards Grindlefoot, Bilwin grins. “We don’t want to hurt the bees, now do we.”
With a flick of his wrist, the rock flies over the side of the mountain and Bilwin enters the darkness of the temple. Dolor shrugs his shoulders and follows. With a flutter of excitement, Gustaf hurries after the dwarven cleric and tiefling. “Oh my! So much to see! So much to catalog!” Only slightly less curious than Gustaf, Grindlefoot skips off behind the archaeologist. Mond and Gven exchange a brief look of understanding and the half-orc motions for the sorcerer to go ahead, she’ll bring up the rear.
Making their way down the entrance tunnel, periodic gusts of hot air blow outwards, accompanied by low groaning. The walls are slick with condensation from the increasing temperature reacting with the moisture in the air. A slight bend in the corridor hides what little light from the open gate illuminated the area. They find themselves in a small chamber, roughly fifteen feet across, with a rusty metal staircase spiraling down, into the depths of the mountain. Next to the stairs are skeletal remains of some long dead adventurer—or zealot—wearing decaying leather armor.
Grindlefoot approaches the corpse to investigate, pronouncing the obvious. “They’ve been dead a long time.” With the light of a torch, he’s notices a crumpled piece of paper in the decomposing hand. The halfling gently retrieves it, careful not to tear or rip it as he unfolds the parchment, and hands it to Gustaf.
Come to me, if you have the faith
and will to prove your worth.
But I do not eat from an empty plate
So you most prove your worthDeep within these hallowed halls
Three great treasures hide
Bring them to me, one and all
And your worth I will decide.The first, called Wave, requires battle
With the beast in the boiling bubble
‘Cross cavern vast, where the chain-links rattle
Lies Whelm, past water-spouts double.Blackrazor yet remains to be won
Underneath inverted ziggurat.
That garnered, think not you’re done
For now you’ll find you’re caught.Your choice is made, it can’t be undone
It’s time to see this through.
Great and glorious am I, the One!
Death or glory? It’s up to you.
After reading it aloud, Gustaf ponders for a moment.
“That’s an old legend, told to children around campfires and at their bedtimes, but this is a bit darker than I recall. Clear as day, though. Retrieve the three items, most likely weapons, for this being called One and get a reward. Pretty standard adventurer-type stuff, could be interesting.”
He reads it through again, this time silently. “Although, the author could have used an editor. Evocative imagery and clear structure, but the cadence is uneven and phrasing repetitive.” With a shrug of his shoulders, “Oh well, shall we proceed?”
Grindlefoot begins descending the round staircase with Gustaf right behind him and Gven shortly after. While Bilwin stops to say a short prayer for the deceased, Mond and Dolor follow the others down the stairs. Finishing his prayer, the dwarf moves from the floor to the first step of the staircase. A deep groan of rock moving against rock fills the room and Bilwin turns in time to see the passageway to the entrace become another impassable stone wall. Only one way to go now.
The adventurers navigate the narrow, winding staircase deeper into the mountain’s depths for a hundred feet or more before reaching the bottom. Leading the group, and holding the torch in front of him, Grindlefoot is the first to see that the room’s floor is covered in water with green and white algae floating on its surface and clinging to the walls. Cautiously stepping into the water-filled room, the halfling discovers it to be a foot deep, up to his lower thighs.
A corridor leads to the east, straight ahead as they reach the bottom of the stairs. The algae-covered water continues its presence as they cautiously navigate the slippery hallway for 80-100 feet, where it turns to the left—Grindlefoot can tell it’s northward. Gven moves to the front of the group, peeks around the corner, and moves forward slowly, investigating and wary of traps or enemies. After 40 feet, the single hallway splits into three: one angled slightly to the left headed northwest, one in the middle pointed northward, and one angled slightly to the right going northeast.
Sitting at the juncture, a large statue of a sphinx seems to be silently guarding the passageways. His patience wearing out, Bilwin turns the corner and follows Gven, not waiting for her to return or call out that it’s safe. As he approaches the stone figure, Bilwin realizes its shape and calls out, “A sphinx! How exciting!” Hearing the dwarf’s exclamation, Gustaf and Grindlefoot excitedly rush towards the group, as fast as they can move through the water-filled passage. Mond and Dolor cautiously follow suit, still wary of potential danger.
Bilwin is thrilled at the opportunity to see a sphinx statue up close and moves towards it, stopped suddenly by an invisible barrier.
The sphinx’s leonine head moves unexpectedly, yet unhurriedly, as though it would rather not be bothered by their presence. It gently stretches its wings, extending them to touch each side of the passage before bringing them to rest on its back, and adjusts the sitting position of its lion’s body, flexing its giant paws to briefly reveal the deadly claws within. Obviously made of flesh and bone, its deep voice resonates through the small underground juncture.
Round she is, yet flat as a board
Altar of the lupine lords
Bilwin looks at Gustaf and joyfully says, “It’s a riddle! I love riddles. They’re a sneaky sort of fun. And I know this one! Moon, the answer is the moon.”
“Indeed, it is. Choose your path.” The creature sits in place, uninterested in the group of adventurers.
Bilwin and Grindlefoot pose several questions to the stoic beast. “Where do the passages lead? How many others have come before us? Is one of the directions safe? Are there more sphinxes in the tunnels? What’s your name? How long have you been here? Why did you look like stone? How tall are you?”
“I care not which direction you proceed, for it is not my place—nor my desire—to guide you on your journey. My name is of no consequence, for I am here to fulfill a purpose, regardless of how others call me or my own desires. You have answered the riddle. Do what you will.” With the final word, it moves its body to the floor and tucks its hind legs to its sides, notably taking a sphinx pose, and ignores further engagement.
Grindlefoot examines the three options and suggests they take the left passageway, proceeding northwest. The sphinx ignores them with a stately presence as they move past it and into the water-filled stone corridor. Grindlefoot and Gustaf lead the group, side-by-side, followed by Gven, Bilwin, Mond, and Dolor. Passing the statuesque creature, Dolor softly murmers his gratitude, hoping to be on the creature’s good side if they ever need to be.
The group proceeds for 40-50 feet at a plodding pace, the water’s depth restricting their movement, and suddenly a ten-foot length of the passageway’s floor drops. Grindlefoot and Gustaf are taken off balance and fall ten feet down into the newly formed pit. The whooshing sound of water flooding to fill the space surrounds the group. Reacting quickly, Gven and Bilwin grab rope from their packs and toss the free ends down to the halfling and human. They’re both able to climb out of the hole, but are drenched and covered in slimy algae from head to toe.
From the hallway behind them, they hear the sphinx calmly say, “There’s a pit down that passage.”
Dolor takes the lead, with Bilwin following close behind, and the group is able to navigate around the open pit. The water is almost to the top by the time Gven nimbly parkours across, taking up the rear guard as they proceed down the hallway. After 40 feet, the passage bends to the right, turning directly northward for another 60 feet.
Inspecting the hall from the corner, Dolor sees large blank copper plates lining each wall. They appear decorative, but he cautiously moves forward. By the time Gven has entered the corridor, she notices the others ahead of her sweating profusely and hurrying their steps to reach the end. With her hand resting lightly on Tempest Edge’s pommel, she soon feels it heating up, painfully so. The copper plates on either side of her are now bright and pulsating, emitting an unbearable heat. The metal scabbard is beginning to burn through the leather, getting closer to her skin. Understanding why the others ran to the other end, she does so as well, joining them in a small room at the end of the hall, and past the copper plates.
They collect themselves and assure that everyone is unhurt, although a little cooked. A stone staircase leads upward, out of the room and out of the standing water. Still leading the way, Dolor follows the stairs north for 10 steps, west for 10 steps, and south for another 10 steps when he comes to a wooden door. The tiefling spends a few moments looking for traps, finds nothing suspicious, and opens it, pushing it inward.
Moving into the room, he discovers that it’s 10 feet wide and 80 feet long, heading to the west—towards the right after entering the doorway. The rest of the group follows him in and, looking to their right, see a trench that divides the room. It’s ten feet deep with rusty spikes at the bottom and five feet across, easily jumped by most of them. The floor on the other side of the trench has a silvery sheen to it, almost mirror like. Another 40 feet down the room is another 5-foot wide trench and they can only assume it also has rusty spikes in the bottom. At the end of the long room, they can see the west wall, but no door.
“Hold this tight!” Bilwin hands one end of his rope to Gven, ties the other around his waist, takes a few steps and jumps across the trench—before anyone can stop him. The dwarf flies gracefully to the silver-sheened floor, and quickly discovers that he can’t stop or even stand up. With legs and arms flailing, the dwarf slides uncontrollably towards the trench at the far side of the room. When the rope reaches its length—thanks to Gven shortening it—he bounces back, now sliding towards Gven and the other spike-filled trench.
Seeing the danger, Grindlefoot casts Gust, reversing the dwarfs direction, back towards the far end of the hallway—and the other trench. Bilwin knows what’s coming and prepares himself, catching enough of a perch on the edge of the trench to launch himself across it, safely to the other side.
Unbothered by the close call, he turns to the group. “See, easy!”
Bilwin moves to inspect the north wall and promptly disappears. A few moments later, he reappears. “It’s a mirage of some sort, there’s actually another door over here.” Gven suggests that he tie off the rope to something on the far end so the rest of them can navigate the frictionless floor in between the trenches.
Mond takes the rope from Gven and gestures for the others to cross. “I’ve got this.” Once everyone has crossed safely, and are waiting with Bilwin, the half-elf leaps over the trench to land on his feet and slide gracefully towards them, arms barely moving to maintain his balance. A few feet before he reaches the dangerous ditch, he disappears into a silvery mist and reappears next to Grindlefoot.
“Nice Misty Step, Mond. I should have done that!”
They open the northward facing door into another hallway.
Gustaf is hurriedly scribbling in his leatherbound notebook, drawing a map of their progress so far. As the others begin to move through the doorway, he proudly displays his efforts. “While I’m no cartographer, we’ll need to know how to get out, my fine friends!”
