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Turn 142.0: Entering the Ancient Chambers

Posted: 2/14/01

Hannibal listens to Alara's plea and can see that the woman had actually found what she was looking for, a home. For a moment, too, Hannibal finds himself contemplating what he seeks, what one pivotal moment would bring him happiness...he could think of none. Ever since Bernigan's death he had felt empty, as if unfulfilled even though that death was all he could think of for so many years. Emma had been right all along, that vengeance didn't bring satisfaction, but he wasn't about to admit that.

As Alara's eyes cross Hannibal and moved to Illena, the thief can only smile. 'You're a lucky woman, Alara,' is all he could think to himself.

Elloharin regards Alara with a mixture of disgust and pity. 'A calling? See what your words have done now, Emma! A fine warrior, turned to mush. One less of us to absorb arrows, swords and Anhur knows what else! Anhur! Since when have I cursed in the name of Anhur?' He listens to the others' appraisals of Alara with a sneer. Forgetting for the moment her help, and her support. El feels just a little bit hurt. Now he will be the only elf in the party. And granted he was always the only true blooded 'elf' in the party, but...it must have been her weak human blood.

"Coward," he mutters in Elven, under his breath, shaking his head, hoping no one hears him, but unwilling to say nothing. He cannot meet her eyes.

The silence of the table is deafening...enough so that Emma hears El's muttering, but without an understanding of the Elvish tongue, she has no idea what he might have said. She opens her mouth as if to respond and then closes it, uncertain of what to say exactly.

Hannibal heard the comment but said nothing. Although he had spoken to El in Elven several times before, El made no real attempt to hide the stinging comment from his ears. He would have to talk to the Dimmed one someday, learn what really fed his anger.

'My god!' Hannibal thinks to himself. 'I'm starting to sound like Emma!'

Hanibal approaches Alara and smiles, hugging the young woman in an uncharacteristic show of affection. "I'm guessing your god led you here for a purpose...you can serve these people far better than you can us. Besides, it's where you belong. Good luck."

Crayne turns to Elloharin the elf as he picks up on his last comment. "Calm your words, Elloharin. Is there need to be so offensive? You should show more respect or you'll find yourself in trouble with a tongue as sharp as yours." Crayne glances to Emma for a moment but then turns quickly away.

Emma looks up from the table and regards Hannibal strangely. 'Alara's god?' she wonders to herself, 'I wonder if he would address me the same if I were to voice my decision to lay down this quest?' She shakes her head and then thumps her gauntlets down on the table before standing up.

"Alara?" she begins, "There can be no doubt that your presence among us will be missed. Your sword and bow were ever ready to leap to our cause. Thank you for all that you've done for us, our King, and your countrymen. But most of all, thank you for the task you've now so willingly taken upon yourself. Illena will find in you a kindred spirit, I am sure."

She looks to the half-elven girl and smiles. "You accept Alara's offer, yes?" she asks, smiling even wider as Illena nods. "Good then. If we've accomplished nothing else, we've brought the two of you together." She rounds the table to give Illena and Alara both a warm embrace. As she holds Alara, she whispers into the warrior's ear, "Good luck to you. I'll keep you both in my prayers."

Crayne then turns towards Alara. "Your leave does come at a bad time for us, Alara. Nevertheless, your choice is a respected one and I for one allow you this leave. The time we have shared together has been short but important."

Crayne nods his head. "Good luck to you Alara and take care of Illena here! She has good prospects!" Crayne smiles at Illena and then makes his way back to the rest of the Six.

The Sword Bearer hears the words of the others in the group, while trying to formulate his own. He could not just depart with a wink and a nod; Alara had shed blood with Rinder's Six, she deserved more respect than that. When the others are done, Skandor makes his way to stand in front of Alara.

"It is not our place to question your heart's calling, lady. It is only our place to respect your instinct, and to give you our best wishes. Some would say that being a part of this group, Rinder's Six, would take much bravery...perhaps, lady, it takes even more bravery to put something that important aside and do what you feel is right. I am sure that in your time to come here, you will hear many Hathean teachings and proverbs, and, you might grow to hate proverbs altogether," he says with a soft smile and a pause. But almost immediately, he grows serious again as he concludes, "But I leave you with one last Anhurian proverb: 'The road to victory is not always won on the field of battle.'

"Live long, lady Alara. Live well."

With that, he slowly reaches his right arm forward towards her right arm, in an attempt to give her a warrior's handshake. Then, the paladin winks once down at Illena and turns and takes his place back amongst the group.

Storm grunts to himself as he hears Alara's intentions of leaving the group. 'Right befur we's goin' down into the ground? We's could still use her steel down there...eh well, whatever she's be wantin' ta do..." Always one to let others do as they please, Storm takes his turn to wish Alara farewell. He stands before her, looking up at her from below. He raises his right hand and makes a fist, then gives the fighter a slightly rough punch on the arm. "We'll be missin' yer steel," he says with genuine respect. Alara had only been with them a short time--and seemingly against her will at that--though over those short weeks Storm had witnessed some expert swordsmanship. Alara could definitely hold her own, and Storm was disappointed to see a fine warrior such as her depart the group. "Maybe's I be havin' the pleasure of fightin' next to ye again sometime." He turns to walk back to the rest of the group, but quickly turns back. "So don't ye go an' get rusty! Get thems priests to keep ye sharp." He winks an awkward dwarven wink her way, then heads back to the group.

Once everything is back to normal following Alara's announcement, Emma turns back to the matters at hand. "Well...we've eaten a hearty meal, mended our wounds as best we can," she says, clearly meaning the mental wounds as well as the physical ones, "...and now we're faced with the challenge ahead. Let's get organized and catch up to these Caerloon trouble-makers once and for all.

"Dodgen?" she says, clapping the priest on the shoulder, "You have my thanks for all you've done to assist us. I pray we weather the hazards of your ancient chambers and return victorius. And in doing so, we shall do our best to set Director Amos free. It would not bode well to lose another of your caste like the Coreognate. I pledge myself to making sure that doesn't happen again.

"Alara?" she continues, "Since you and Illena will be staying behind, please guard our backs. When we return from Killner's Vault, I'm sure we'll be a bit weary and beaten down. It wouldn't be good to come back and find a new Caerloon garrison ready to capture us." She smiles with confidence at the half-elven warrior, knowing that she won't ever let such a thing happen to her friends.

Crayne then addresses the group. "The task ahead is going to be treacherous I feel. We must be watchful and we must stick close together. Arguing will do us no good once we enter these doors to the Ancient Chambers. We must set all hatred and grievances aside if we are to succeed in our goal. The time for grievances will come once the ring is found. If any of you are not capable of following this request or feel that it is time to move on then I will not condemn you. But please do it now before its too late!"

Emma nods in obvious agreement with Crayne's words. Her silence indicates her commitment to doing exactly as he has described. There will be no room for disagreements like the one outside the gates of El-Balans. Luck had seen them through that folly last time. They had better not to fall into that trap again. The results might not be the same, if they do. 'After all, how often can we fight our way through forty armed soldiers and a Red Dragon mage?' she thinks to herself.

Crayne looks about the rest of the party in a serious fashion. "We must work as a group and use all our abilities to the full if we are to succeed.

"Elloharin!" Crayne calls, "Now might be a good time to get that crystal out. Also, what are our light sources? I here have my lightstone. What of the rest of you?"

Canter clears his throat as if to speak. "I carry a lantern and two flasks of oil."

"I carry a lantern and three flasks," Elloharin contributes.

"And I also carry a lantern and oil," Emma says, "so we will have light."

"We need also to be very wary of traps," Crayne says, nodding in recognition to those with lanterns. "Are there people here who could protect us against such mechanisms? If there are then I think those people should lead the group. Also, be wary of the fact that so far we've met just one of the Red Dragon mages. The next might not be such an easy target!"

Emma starts to volunteer the powers of Anhur, but hesitates, unsure how well they might be received. But finally, she tosses caution to the wind and says, "When I prepared my prayers to Anhur, he granted me clear sight to avoid the traps and ambushes of our enemies. The blessing will last for a few hours...and is centered just upon me, his priestess."

She looks from Crayne to Hannibal and then Storm. "I...I won't be able to actually disable the traps," she explains, "But I will be able to see them as long as I focus my sight in a specific direction. The prayer is very reliable and has been used many times by my priesthood in the histories of the Caste. Maybe if I stay close behind Hannibal and/or Storm, I can point them out ahead of time...and then, if a trap truly bars our way, they can attempt to remove it?"

The Shield Maiden says the last with a note of hope in her voice. How would the two scouts/explorers/thieves feel about the faith of a priestess guiding their hands and feet? Especially given the dwarf's reluctance to accept a mere healing enchantment from her earlier. She turns her eyes to Hannibal and Crayne mostly, hoping that they at least will see the wisdom of her suggestion.

Storm lets out a little chuckle. "Sounds fine ta me, priestess." He opens his mouth to say something more, but then loses his train of thought and simply grunts, folding his arms across his barreled chest and looking around the group at no one in particular.

Crayne nods in approval at Emma's suggestion. The hatred that he had felt for her during the recent battle was beginning to fade. She had apologised to him for her insults and that had meant a lot to him. He was beginning to wonder whether he was being to stubborn with his outlook on life and whether she did have a point. She was intelligent, Crayne acknowledged that fact, and so intelligent people do not usually make claims without any foundations. Hannibal too had made the same claim against him.

'Was it them at fault?' Crayne was beginning to wonder. He was beginning to think that he distanced himself so much from the party that they were finding it hard to put trust in him. It had hurt him deeply when those comments had been made to his face. To be accused of such selfishness brought back the lingering feeling of loneliness and despair. 'Is this how the party view me? As some power-grabbing mage who uses the rest of the Six's abilities just to attain this power?'

He knows that the Six are in no way evil. 'Well most of them, anyhow.' He knows, too, that he isn't evil. He knows that the only reason he was with Rinder's Six was to bring peace back to Caerloon and especially Rinder. Thus, it was now up to him to convince the party of his intentions. He had distanced himself for so long through his superior and overly suspicious nature that he had alienated the rest of the party. He certainly didn't want those claims to be made against him again. The pain and the horrible feeling of loneliness which he had felt following the accusations had nearly made him sick.

Those feelings still there waiting to emerge when he wasn't looking. Perhaps it was time to fight them and open up by trying to establish some friendships and showing more trust in people. Emma had offered to help him and he had done nothing but throw it in her face. He had ridiculed her philosophy seeing it as something she was hiding behind. He was beginning to realise that this wasn't the case. That Emma truly did think that she could better the world through her religion and her beliefs. Crayne was beginning to realise and come to terms with own stubbornness.

He needed to change if he was going to improve his outlook on life. He was certain that the Battle for El-Balans would be a turning point in his life. He just wasn't certain whether this change would be for the best or for the worst.

Snapping out of his contemplation Crayne replies to Emma's suggestion. "Excellent suggestion, Emma! It makes me feel a lot more confident to know that we will not simply walk into a trap!"

Crayne then turns to Elloharin. "Remember! Keep checking through the gem. I don't want some invisible Red Dragon mage sneaking up on us!" He then turns with his staff clutched in both hands, "Let us head on!"

Meanwhile, El helps the priests with the bodies of the dead soldiers. "Look Dodgen, I know these were 'evil' soldiers. But I suggest you have a go at doing something with these bodies. Dead meat attracts disease. Maybe stick a few heads on some pikes and put them over the gate for a while, if you want, that'll keep the idle traveler away for a little while." He laughs weakly at his rather sick joke, but swallows when he sees Dodgen pale at the thought. "Burn them. Or use them for fertilizer, I don't care, just get'em out of the sun."

He turns away, laughing rather oddly.

He stands alone now, waiting for the others of the group to be ready. He watches Crayne studying his spells. He was jealous of Crayne. What power the mage wielded! To stand at the foci between nodes, to exist within the nexus of such incredible magic! El has a thought. He reaches within his pack for the gem entrusted to him. Letting his hands roam over it's surface, he concentrates on it, trying to divine what the temple tunnels might hold for them. Where were the soldiers and the mage? What types of guardian had the ancient priests of Hathe entrusted with the safety of the play? He cannot make out any kind of response from the gem regarding these questions.

El shivered at the thought of entering the Temple. He did not like dark, enclosed places. He would much rather be in the forest, on a field, in the air, not the cramped quarters of stone and dirt. Such places were made for dwarves--not elves.

Skandor approaches Dodgen and gives him a courteous and respectful nod. "Revered one, might I ask one more thing of thee? I believe that my companions and I are about to descend into a cramped area, without room enough to wield my two-hander. And while my companion Storm might find that to his liking, I will instead revert to using my gladius in such confines," he says with a faint smile as he pats the hand of his short-sword on his hip. "So, that leaves my other hand empty, and quite jealous of nothing to do. Might your conclave have a shield they might spare, or possibly sell to me? Or might the Caerloon soldiers have had a shield I might procure, one that was not too badly damaged?"

Dodgen nods. "I do believe I saw a small shield on one of the Caerloon soldiers. You'n are free to take it if you'n wish."

With a smile of thanks, Skandor heads for the growing pile of bodies, weapons and armor. There he finds a small buckler shield. Nothing special, but strong wood reinforced with iron strips and a leather handle behind. "This will do," he says to himself.

At the same time, seeing as the day is entering afternoon and the others are preparing for the trip into the tunnels below the compound, Hannibal makes his way over to Canter, who sits at the food tables cleaning his sword. "Canter," he says, sitting on a bench across from the fighter. He holds up a suit of chain mail found amongst the Caerloon soldiers. "What do you think of this?" the thief asks.

Canter stops cleaning and lowers his sword to the bench beside him. Then, squinting in the early-afternoon sun, he examines the metal chain links. "It will need a little repair, I'm sure. But it looks like it's still sturdy. And I imagine the price was reasonable!" He smiles at Hannibal as the thief looks again at his find.

"Can you repair it?"

Canter shakes his head in reply. "My friend Hannibal, I am a leatherman's son. I repair leather armor, leather goods. I can fix the handle on Skandor's new shield when it breaks. But I have no skill with metal. I can tell you that you have there a decent piece of armor, and that it needs a little repair. But I can't repair it for you. That's one service I'm afraid I cannot offer."

Hannibal nods in understanding. "Then perhaps there is a service you can offer," he continues. "What are the qualities you look for in a sword?"

"A sword?" Canter asks, reaching for his own. "My you are the curious one today, Hannibal. Well, I seek balance first. If the blade is too heavy for my liking, or the handle too light, then it will not do. It must have the right sense of balance for your style of swordplay. Worry not if the blade is dull. Blades can be sharpened. Worry not if it's pretty. Gems and jewels can always be added later when fortune arrives at your side. But balance...balance can only be fixed with the forging of a whole new sword."

Hannibal nods, taking in Canter's words.

"Here," Canter says, handing his bastard sword to Hannibal. "Feel the weight, and where on the length of the sword the weight seems to sit. It is well balanced for my style: mostly slashes, not pokes and jabs, yet not wide arcs in the air. So the weight is in the middle, perhaps slightly more toward the tip. That way, when I slash an enemy, the sword guides itself in the direction I intend. If you, having wielded knives and daggers, prefer a jabbing motion, you may want your blade weighted more toward the handle. If you are artistic like the Hatheans, and prefer wide, flashy arcs through the air, find a blade weighted at the tip which will fly through the air almost on its own. Understand?"

Hannibal smiles, testing the weight of Canter's sword in his hand and practicing a few slashing motions through the air between them. "I do...very interesting..."

"Why do you want to know all this?" Canter inquires.

Hannibal lowers the blade, handing it back to its owner. "I was a warrior once. But those days are long past. I do not want the knowledge, a warrior's ways, completely lost to me, and so I seek the knowledge of a warrior's ways to remind me. That way, I will never forget." With that, Hannibal smiles to Canter, patting the sitting fighter on the shoulder as he makes his way toward the others.

Gathering Hannibal and Skandor, Emma casts another Cure Light Wounds on each, restoring some more strength to both men. (6 hp restored to Hannibal, 7 hp restored to Skandor)

Hannibal stops his preperation long enough to address Emma's request. He smiles to her but says nothing as he allows her to approach him and cast her magic. Once done, he again smiles and remains quiet for a moment. Almost as an after thought, and as Emma starts to walk away, he does finally speak. "Thank you, priestess."

It is a simple comment, three little words, but it would seem that Hannibal meant far more than those three little words would convey. Nodding at Emma's questioning glance, Hannibal returns to his things, a look of determination on the thief's face.

As she turns away from him, a bright smile lights up Emma's face. 'Hannibal is a kind soul,' she tells herself, 'And there's a wisdom and intelligence behind those eyes. Maybe someday soon he will get his life together and find a new purpose. In the meantime, I should just do my best to his friend...instead of the thorn in his side.'

Emma's mood is much improved for the rest of the time it takes Rinder's Six to get prepared. And even as they journey into the dark of the Ancient Chambers, she doesn't feel quite so depressed about the situation anymore.

Skandor gratefully accepts all healing bestowed upon him, praying along with Emma as she casts her spell.

Storm veers off to talk to Dodgen quickly. "Hey there Dodgen, I's got a question fer ye...um...I's wonderin' if ye could spare some healin'. Me's got a few cuts 'n' stuff that could use a little help, if ye know what I mean." He turns his side to the priest, displaying the long, bloody gash down its side that he was inspecting before. He glances over his shoulder toward Emma before continung. "Err....eh, she be...er...well, she be owin' me an apology, an' I be waitin' fer it. If ya know what I mean," he repeats abrupty. He scratches his head and looks over his shoulder once again, then turns back to Dodgen with a half-toothless grin showing through his thick beard, awaiting the priest's answer.

"I do believe the other cleric over there can administer the elixir," Dodgen replies to the dwarf, pointing toward one of the other Priests of Hathe. Soon, Storm feels a soothing sensation as the elixir is given to him. (5 hp restored to Storm)

Hearing Crayne's voice of concern, Skandor nods solemnly and draws forth his short sword. "One thing we must keep in mind is that at this point, we should have the element of surprise." His mind goes back to the hard-won battle. With the help of the Hatheans, Rinder's Six had decimated a garrison of troops, some forty strong, complete with officers and a mage! But wouldn't the contingent have sent their best troops into the tunnels below to retrieve the prized possession they so eagerly sought? Wouldn't they have sent the most powerful and respected of the two wizards below? Would the Caerloon leadership allow mere underlings to retrieve such a powerful artifact? Surely they also must have realized how dangerous one of the Rings could be if it fell onto the wrong finger.

Skandor sets his jaw firmly as he prepares to journey forth.

Storm hears Hannibal offer to go in front. "I'll go right behind ye," he chimes in. "Two trap lookers be better than one. An' I ain't be needin' no light neither." Before they actually head down, Storm removes the flask of weaponblack from his pouch, taking care to effectively cover both of his long swords and two daggers. "Hey Hannibal," he asks. "Ye want some o' this? Won't be no light bouncin' off yer blades." He offers the flask Hannibal's way.

After her comments at the dinner table, Emma begins to grow more introspective. Despite her attempt to make everything appear calm and back to normal, she knows that Rinder's Six is struggling to hold itself together. Angry words, opposing philosophies, misunderstandings, and impatience are all working to pull them apart.

Emma regards Elloharin standing across the courtyard, remembering the completion of her healing ritual upon him and his words to her. She hasn't had much exposure to elves before meeting him and really doesn't know quite how to interpret his rhyme. 'Was he mocking me?' she wonders, 'Or simply delirious...or just trying to be humorous in the middle of the pain from his wounds?'

She's uncertain and so she keeps a grim smile on her face for him, her lips tightly closed as she simply goes about her business...the business of Anhur...the tending of the wounded upon the battlefield and the planning for the battles ahead. Besides, her god would know the elf's true feelings. And if he did indeed mock her faith, she knows that Anhur will withhold his blessings to him in the future.

But, beyond her religious perspective on everything, Emma truly worries about Rinder's Six as a whole. The group has come a long way since she joined it. Now it has more fractures and frayed seams than ever before. She looks around the courtyard and takes stock of her relationships with them.

Crayne. Stubborn as ever...but no less than herself. She just can't quite figure out what makes the wizard tick. 'What drives him?' she wonders, 'Was Hannibal right? Is he after the rings for the power they'll bring him? He says not...but how can we truly be sure. After all, I've seen him distrust so many others...why would he be so surprised that we cannot bring ourselves to trust him fully in this? And don't I trust him? Honestly, I do. I believe that if I were about to die at the hands of someone like Paros or the Baron General's men, Crayne would come charging in with five or more images of himself tagging along...but even he probably hasn't figured himself out well enough to know he would do such a heroic thing. It's not that he's a bad person. He hasn't been as actively good as some...but he's not evil, like Paros or Robert's father. I have faith in him that he will be more than what I've perceived him to be for so long. Nire himself must have great things written for him in the stars...'

And then there was Hannibal. Emma felt herself drawn to him and his pain. The tragic loss of his loved ones was something she could never fully empathize with. 'Who am I to tell him how to overcome such a situation?' she thinks, 'It's not like I've got any experience in such matters. Sure, I've read wonderful little anecdotes and parables from the Scrolls of Anhur that might impart wisdom to those that learn the moral of their stories. But that's not concrete enough to reach him...or many other people either. Perhaps Edryd was right. As Anhur's chosen, we need to live our lives as an example and try not to batter away at those we wish to somehow help. Hannibal will find his own way...and as long as I'm around to help him when he asks for it, that will be enough...but I can't force him to do anything. And rightfully not. For to do that would strip away his freedom and his spirit anyway...and those are the things he needs to rediscover.'

Her eyes then settled upon Storm. The taciturn dwarf had rebuffed her loudly and angrily, clearly upset with her earlier comments. 'I never should have compared any of them to one another,' she thinks, 'And challenging Storm's honor was like striking a blow at his very soul. How can I ever take that back? Maybe someday he might come to realize that I simply voiced aloud the element of his past that he wrestles with all the time. He's told us time and again of the darker things he once did. He doesn't seem the kind of person to want to do them again...and indeed, he probably never wanted to do them in the first place. And here I am, raising them up and holding his past in front of his eyes, making him look at it all over again. What good will that accomplish? It'll just make him hate me for doing so.'

She finishes by looking at Canter, Alara, and Skandor. The latter was standing very close to her. Ever the protective Sword-Bearer. 'He takes his duty too seriously,' she thinks, 'Sometimes I wish he would open his eyes to claim his own destiny, rather than simply living up to the orders of some High Priest.' She shakes her head at that thought. Her superiors would have had her cast in irons and thrown into a dungeon for that kind of sacrilege. For to question the orders of a 'general' like a High Priest was pretty much treason...or dereliction of duty, at the very least. 'I don't care,' she thinks to herself, 'There's a time when taking orders means accomplishing a goal for justice and peace, and there's a time when it means furthering a cause that doesn't live up to anyone's idea of what's noble and decent. It means carrying out the goals of someone that's drunk with power and who enjoys putting it on display for others to see. I'm tired of seeing our priesthood value such people. I fear them for their power, but I don't respect them for their abuse of it. And that's the simple thing of it. Skandor reminds me of the disease that runs rampant in our ranks. But he's not the root of that problem. It's our superiors. And how do I change them and still keep him as a friend?'

Emma grips the hilt of her broadsword, still belted at her narrow waist. She wishes she could draw forth the weapon and use its power to set things right. But all that would accomplish is more bloodshed. And before she could turn her eyes the internal problems of Rinder, she needed to perform her duty in solving the external ones first.

"Everyone ready?" she asks aloud, "Let's go..."

Dodgen leads Rinder's Six down the narrow staircase to the study, just below the main sanctuary of the Temple of El-Balans. On the far side of the study is another doorway, leading to a tunnel with various other chambers and libraries. It is obvious that the Caerloon soldiers have been here, and obvious that they were searching for something: the books in the study and in many of the other smaller collections are thrown from the shelves, and the rooms are left in total disarray. In addition, many of the torches are either removed from their places along the stone walls, or put out, plunging the tunnels into darkness.

Dodgen is quick to re-light those torches that remain, and to set some of the other Hatheans to removing the tomes, books, scores, and paintings from the study to buildings above ground, lest the Caerloon soldiers return and wreak more havoc.

Leading the party down the tunnel, past the smaller libraries, storage chambers, meditation chambers, and other small rooms, the party notices that soon the walls no longer bear torches, and a dull gray appears to seep from every stone in the walls. The only light is from the torches at the other end of the winding tunnel (near the study), and in the darkness Dodgen's eyes and lips are barely visible when he stops and turns to face the party.

"Where I now stand was once a wall, effectively ending this tunnel and sealing off the Ancient Chambers, which begin at the bottom of the staircase you'n will soon reach. We can be sure none of my people removed this wall, so the Caerloon men must be below. The chambers are immense, some caverns are larger than one would expect at their depth, but the genius of the Caste of Hathe is not to be underestimated. Other areas are quite cramped. And I warn you'n, when the decision was made many centuries ago to seal off the Ancient Chambers, plans were laid to ensure their safety from all who'n would dare enter, even after El-Balans was left for dust. I know not of the obstacles you will face. You have my prayers and the prayers of Hathe."

With that, Dodgen steps aside, allowing the party to step past him. Large stone blocks litter the ground, having been smashed to pieces in the effort to open up the once-sealed Ancient Chambers. A heavy layer of dust covers every wall, every inch of the floor. The tunnel itself narrows so that in their marching order, Skandor, Crayne, and Canter can just barely walk side by side in the middle of the group.

"Crayne, the lightstone if you please," Canter says, noting the darkness ahead.

"Of course," the mage replies, reaching into his pack for his treasured source of cool yellow light. Soon it is shining, offering a little vision to those without any kind of special visual acuity. It's cool light extends only a few feet in all directions, but is bright enough for Crayne, and the others, to make out the numerous footprints in the dust at their feet.

"The Caerloon soldiers," Skandor states plainly, voicing the same thought that all the others have.

With a nod from Hannibal at the front, the party moves forward at a slow but steady pace, carefully covering ground and leaving Dodgen behind. About thirty yards past the entrance to the Ancient Chambers, the descending staircase Dodgen told them about begins, with long steps slowly guiding the tunnel downward into the earth.

The party continues down this staircase extremely slowly and carefully. But even those with enhanced vision cannot spot anything harmful ahead, nor can Emma sense any traps, nor can El spot anything through his gem. About two hours after first entering the Ancient Chambers, they reach the bottom of the long staircase, which appears to empty out into a large cave.

The cave is so large that Crayne's lightstone cannot project enough light to reach any of the walls, or even the ceiling. The party stop as soon as everyone is off the last step of the staircase, but does not immediately move into the large chamber, in part because Storm stops suddenly, grabbing Hannibal in front of him to make sure the thief doesn't continue.

"There be somethin' thar..." the dwarf says, narrowing his eyes and squinting. He strains to look as closely as he can from this distance.

Elloharin immediately takes a small step back, his heel hitting the edge of the last step on the staircase. He looks all around, noting the slope of the ceiling above him (which appears to be a dome-shape), and the great distance to the walls on either side of them (about fifty feet in each direction).

"What is it?!" Crayne whispers, his voice echoing off the distant walls of the cave, breaking a silence that had probably rested here for hundreds of years.

"I's not be sure," Storm replies, still squinting. "It got big claws an...many legs. It be big. But it not be movin'. Either it be sleepin', or it don't be seein' us yet..."

---

1. HP Status, taking into account the healing in this turn:

Canter: 32/44, Crayne: 29/16, Elloharin: 25/25, Emma: 42/42, Hannibal: 21/26, Skandor: 35/38, Storm: 27/50.

2. Storm is the only one who can see the...thing (for lack of a better term right now) at the other end of the cave, and he can only barely make it out at that. It's simply too far away for Elloharin to see, especially since he's at the back of the party. And the light from the lightstone certainly doesn't reach that far. Elloharin is the only one who has seen the distance to the ceiling and side walls--while Storm is also capable of seeing these things, so far his attention is on the mysterious "thing".

The rest of the party CANNOT see these things in the dark.

3. Here's the marching order as I've conceived it based on what people have written:

1st: Hannibal

2nd: Emma & Storm

3rd: Skandor, Crayne, & Canter

4th: Elloharin

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