TGQtPT ~ A Simple Request

[malonkey1]

Danaan actually pauses and claps lightly.

"I suddenly feel like alchemy is the wrong line of work," he muses, cautiously stepping in, looking around as the dust settles.

"The architecture's pretty interesting. No way those statues came like that, though."

[gr8artist]

A warm, damp draft wafts lazily past the small adventurers, carrying with it the stench of rotten flesh, putrid blood, musty ashes, and ages of suffering. The effect is almost staggering at first, though the long-confined air wastes no time in its dissipation, and after a momentary wave of nausea you quickly become acclimated to the stench.
The "statues" Danaan is referring to are actually a series of eight mannequins which flank the entryway. Bronze, featureless statues with finely crafted steel armor; they would have fetched a pretty penny long ago. Now, however, they're worth less than scrap, due to a thick layer of crude iron slag that's been poured over the top of each. The joints, ringlets, and buckles are now so thoroughly incased in grey iron that it would take ages to repair them all. Pity, because what little bit of detail you can find in the encased armor seems to be the work of a skilled and meticulous hand.
There is a message etched upon the wall in some obscure language and jagged script, which seems out of place amongst the polished marble walls. The floor is covered in a half-rotted carpet, long forgotten and damp with the same reddish brown dye that you could see on the exterior windows.
The room is 20 feet wide and 30 feet deep, with a twenty foot ceiling of polished marble. The back wall opens into a massive room with no illumination, though you can barely make out a massive object nearly twice Low Coo's size. You only illumination comes from two dim iron torches mounted to either side of the door, each flickering with a dark orange flame and molded to look like a human spine.

[Tanuki Tales]

With his attention towards the statue on the roof and attempting to figure out whether he could scale the temple or not, Low Coo missed the conversation and actions of his fellow mercenaries until he heard the loud explosion of Trizbit demolishing the front door of the building. Shaking his head, he followed in the rear, ducking through the remaining framework of the entrance to get in. While he surveyed the room, he decided to speak to Trizbit about her choice of action, "Yuh probably woke di ded wid dat chupid move a' yawhs." The troll's hand slipped slowly to the hilt of his dagger, resting lightly on the hilt. "I dohn like di looks of dis place. Deh is sinting real unnatural bout awhl dis."

[Phillammon]

"Unnatural's right," says Trizbit, nodding towards the text carved into the wall. "Infernal. We're dealing with devils here."

There's a slight pause. "Devils who like their poetry. This thing is... hang on."

The gnome's voice seems to drop a tone as she intones the words before her.

"Your god is dead and long forgot; your temple empty, left to rot.
Angels, archons, saints deterred; heed our warning, sacred word.
By blood and iron this temple we claim; worship and glory in Belor'kind's name.

...or something along those lines," she adds, as an afterthought. "It rhymes in infernal too, if'n yer interested. Though the meter's a bit weird."

[malonkey1]

"Well, not super experience with devils," I say, looking about the room. "I wonder why there's all this slag here."

Danaan freezes.

"Wait. If this temple belonged from devils at the outset, they'd have no reason to coat the metals in slag, meaning that this place obviously was stolen from the hands of less evil foes, likely some form of celestials, based on how shiny the statues are. This means that whatever's here may be able to kill or otherwise drive off a celestial being. I don't know how powerful they'd have to be, but we can hope that we won't find out."

[gr8artist]

With the three of you in the rather cramped entryway, you're able to see a short distance into the next room. Though it is completely dark, you can see the hulking form you'd noticed before, twice as large as Low Coo in every aspect. It's difficult to tell what it is, but you can at least see that it's not moving. The next room seems to have been lavishly decorated at one point, though what you can see of the carpet is stained brownish-red like the carpet here.
The stains on the carpet and walls are blood, long dried and faded, for the most part. Some patches still have a little color, indicating their more recent creation, though you can't see any bodies or weapons in here. You can see a pair of standing lamps, roughly 6 feet tall and wrought in bronze, just beyond the archway in the next room. Each lamp appears to have been defaced, one bent, twisted, and charred, and the other is draped with what looks like a tan bolt of cloth, tied with what looks like a belt.
It is quickly becoming evident that there are two different styles in the decorations and objects you find. One, probably older, tends to be well-crafted, bronze or steel, and usually standardized in design and structure. The other style is hasty, crude, and probably profane. The second style is usually iron of a grotesque or gory design, such as the spine-shaped iron torches behind you.
The same torches that now flicker and dance curiously. They remind you for a moment of a person writhing in pain, though you're unsure what exactly it is about the dark orange tongues that would do so.

[Tanuki Tales]

The Witch Doctor was again lost in thought, scratching his chin as he was want to do when he was ruminating over a topic. Belor'kind....Belor'kind...why do a' know dat name... Low Coo's eyes suddenly widened in surprise as a shout of disgust exploded from his lips, "Bumbo! Dat Badda!" A load and low rumble came from the troll's throat as he lobbed a glob of spittle angrily towards the writing on the wall. "Dis be a house o' very bad mojo. Put yuh ear to wha' ole Low Coo be sayin' when he tells yuh that dis place belong to sometin' very ole and very bad. A kind o' bad dat saw de ole ole gods dead."

[Phillammon]

Trizbit opens up her chestplate once more, returning her ram to its depths, then rummaging around within it, searching for something.

"One sec. An' keep talkin', Low. Who's this Belor'kind fella?"

[malonkey1]

"Does it have anything to do with the dragon worshipers this temple must have belonged to?" Danaan turns to Low Coo, not expecting him to be a source of knowledge.

[Tanuki Tales]

"It ain't be enna big lizza' that be struttin' roun' dis place, buh sometin' from da deep down dark." Low Coo makes a motion with his hand, slowly doing a circuit of the whole room. "We betta secure dis room for ole Low Coo be gabbin' any fadder."

[malonkey1]

"Fair enough." Danaan nods. "Chim-Chim, keep a lookout, eh?"

Danaan turns to Trizbit.

"Hey, buddy. Any chance you could 'shed some light' in here?" Danaan pauses, before adding "Literally, that is."

[Phillammon]

"Gimme a sec, I'm workin' on it!" comes Trizbit's irritated response, still shoulder deep in her own chest.

She rummages a little further before pulling a small, spherical, grey stone out of the compartment. As it is pulled out into the air, it burst into flame, though Trizbit does not seem perturbed by it- or harmed by it, for that matter. She tosses it a short distance upwards, and it is grasped by an unseen force and pulled into orbit around her head.

"That better?" she says, now reaching towards some controls on her helmet.

[Tanuki Tales]

Casting a wary eye towards the unexplored room that was adjacent to the room they were currently in, Low Coo raised a large hand and began moving it in intricate patterns. At the same time, his lips moved quickly, words being said in whispered and hushed tone. This continued for several brief moments before the troll clenched the hand he had been moving into a fist, the mutterings stopping abruptly with it. At the door way, gossamer strands of energy were called into being, layering themselves over and over until a massive spider web now blocked the other entrance into the room the group currently occupied. "Dere, dat should take ca' o' tings. Now, dis house be one o' religion to an ole badda Belor'kind. He be sometin ole an' dark, an ole ole god from a ole ole time. De nahgoods who be payin' praise to dat badda's name be tryin' to change da way o' tings, to kill ded some gods, to taint adders. We should walk lightly in dis place and should get double wat was promised for goin' to such a place as dis."

[gr8artist]

As Low Coo speaks, the eerie silence of the strange temple is suddenly shattered by an agonized yelp. Some creature, further away than the next room, howls in pain as though it had just been stabbed. The painful shriek pierces through the damp and vile air with a chill that arcs down your spine. The last echoes of the nightmarish sound fade away, and the temple is again silent. If you listen closely, you can hear the faintest sounds of movement, though too quiet and confusing to be made out.
There is no motion in the large, dark room, nor does anything in the smaller atrium stir. A warm draft blows by, though whether it is entering or leaving the temple you are not sure. The strange flames in the wicked looking torches dance again, and you see within the flickering tongues the faintest outline of a young boy writhing in pain. The image fades almost immediately, and the flames begin dancing erratically again, though they seem to be a deeper, darker red.

[malonkey1]

"Well," Danaan grunts. "That was ominous. Anybody happen to have any holy water?"

Danaan walks up to study the torch flames.

"Ideally, enough to flood this place."

[Tanuki Tales]

Low Coo's dagger was quickly in hand, spinning across the palm of his hand in three complete circles before he gripped the hilt firmly, the blade pointed towards the ground but cocked at an angle that spoke that it could soon be found buried in flesh if the group was fallen upon by any would-be ambushers. "Notin' be gettin' in dis room wit out a heap amoun' o' trouble, thanks to dat spell o' mine. So the question be now, how we go fahwad wit dis. Dat be some plain bait an' ole Low Coo is no idjit fish, floppin' to take a big ole bite of the fisha's hook."

[Phillammon]

Trizbit draws herself up into a well practised stance- elbows slightly bent, left arm extended, as if offering a handshake to some unseen entity. Her knees are similarly slightly bent, with her right foot back, and turned sideways, to give herself more stability.

After a few seconds pass without any further movement, the gnome relaxes slightly, though she doesn't drop the stance. Her right hand moves up to her helmet, pressing an unseen button. As she does, her appearance melts and reforms into the half-elf girl from before.

Trizbit waits, satisfying herself that the illusion is in good shape, before turning to her compatriots.

"Okay, fellas. Brace yourselves."

There's a brief pause.

The next voice Daanan and Low Coo hear comes not from the gnome, but from inside their respective heads.

"Testing, testing. One two, one two."

[malonkey1]

"Er, I hear you, I suppose?" Danaan says aloud, "If you can call it hearing."

Danaan would probably be paying more attention to the noise in his head, but he's busy preparing a few bottles of strange-looking liquid. After a while, he stands and offers a bottle each to Low Coo and Trizbit.

"Alright, Lumpy, this here," he says to Low Coo, "Will make you bigger. And not in the pants. Well, I suppose in the pants, too, but not disproportionately."

Danaan shakes his head before getting back on track, "It only lasts about 7 minutes, don't bother asking why 7, so use it when you really think you need it."

Danaan then turns to Trizbit, "And this, Ironsides, is a healing potion. It's no magic cure-all, but if you're in a bind, this can patch you up."

[gr8artist]

Danaan takes a few minutes to craft some chemical concoctions, of which he then distributes two between his team-mates. Trizbit takes a few moments to activate the special abilities of her suit, and Low readies himself for the next leg of the journey. Trizbit's floating gem provides some light, while Danaan and Low Coo burn down the webbing.
The three adventurers step into the dark, cavernous expanse of the next room, and can see a little more detail now. The statue, roughly 15 feet in diameter, seems to be a body in armor, with the head of a jackal. The statue is kneeling, with what appears to be a massive sword molded to the back of its deteriorating armor. The statue appears to be made from bronze and steel over a layer of black stone, though the head seems different in design than the rest. The jackal head has no armor but seems to be crafted from blackened iron. The suit that encases the statue seems to be disintegrating slowly, with the area around the neck and shoulders showing the most decay and the most stone beneath.
Other than the statue, there are some more carpets, though they are not all dyed the reddish-brown of blood. Several of them are nearly clean, though covered in a layer of dust and mold. The blood-soaked carpets seem to lay out a path from the entrance to the far side of the room, directly past the statue.
The room appears to be nearly a hundred feet across, judging by the faint reflections you can see shimmering from the far wall. There are no torches in this room, no light source of any kind other than what you carried through with you. You can still hear the faint sounds coming from some room further on, occasionally punctuated with an agonized wail.
Another warm breeze sweeps by, though it swirls around you and masks its origin. Whether it is fleeing or filling the temple, you are unsure. The wind stirs the flames of the torches, however, and both of them flicker with strange shapes and patterns. The light casts strange shadows on the walls, which almost appear like bloody corpses laid out in strange positions. The wind also stirs something else; a great number of chains that seem anchored into the ceiling or attached to features on the walls of the room. From where you are, you can see what appear to be shutters, inside the walls and designed to be opened or closed to provide safe vantage for archers. Some of the chains are in terrible condition, rusted and decayed as they hang lifelessly from the ceiling. Looking up, you can see well over two dozen chains, some older and worn and others new and crafted of darker metals.
A second piercing wail echoes from the far side of the room, directly in front of you, where the darkness consumes the bloody path.

[malonkey1]

Danaan immediately sets to opening the shutters.

"The lighting in this place is atrocious. Who taught these things to decorate, a swarm of bats?"

After opening the shutters, he studies the chains, attempting to discern their composition, and thus glean some information about their makers.

[Tanuki Tales]

The room was clear to the vision of the troll, even before his fellow adventurer opened the shutters that were embedded in one wall. "Da way be up to us, the door or the stairs?" Low Coo motioned at each open path with his dagger, before the point ended in the direction of the barred door. "Bawd doors be de kind best lef bawd."

[gr8artist]

As the three adventurers enter the room and begin examining the various features they find, a sudden sound startles them. The ominous grinding of stone against stone, followed by the deafening slam of a massive object into a solid surface. The chains above are racing like vipers through their metal support rings as a heavy slab of granite slides down the wall from above the entrance to this room.

In an instant, their escape route is completely cut off. As this ominous concept takes hold, something even more frightening arises. The statue in the middle of the room begins to move. Its motions are marked with the rough grind of metal and stone as it rises and stands erect. The great machine had apparently been holding the chains that operated the entryway portcullis, and had laid a trap for the adventurers so as to seal them inside.

The golem turns and its gaze rests upon Danaan, furthest into the room and the only one interacting with the environment.

"Unrecognized subjects in perimeter; primary security feature engaged.
Identify yourselves immediately...
Captor, or detainee?"

The construct's voice is harsh and grating, and its mouth was not designed to move as it speaks. There is a faint light, the equivalent of a torch's flame, burning within the creature now, visible at all of its joints and junctures. The massive weapon with which it was outfitted remains attached to its back, but the increasingly hostile golem seems to be gaining fluidity and motion as it stands and straightens itself. The creature nearly fills the room from floor to ceiling when standing at its full height, easily twice Low Coo's height.

The other doors remained open; only the door through which you three had just stepped is now barred.

[malonkey1]

Danaan freezes immediately. Being trapped underground is not an ideal position for a winged creature such as him.

"I, uh, that is, neither..." Danaan cringes as he completes his sentence, "...Neither of the above?"

[Phillammon]

"Gods, you're useless..." comes a muttered voice in Danaan's head.

A few deft button presses later, Trizbit's disguise has melted around her, only to be replaced with a new one- a dull glow emanating from within Rattleclank, seeping out at his joints and junctures, disguising Trizbit's presence from the world. To all intents and purposes, she resembles an animated suit of armour.

Striding forward towards Danaan, she speaks up. "Identify as Captor. Two Detainees. Troll, One. Winged Humanoid, One. Detainees reapprehended, return to cells imperative."

[gr8artist]

The huge mass of metal and stone turns to regard Trizbit for a moment. There is a brief silence, as though the monstrosity is processing her and Danaan's answers. Then, with a gut-wrenching reply, the golem speaks.

"Ethical identification not satisfactory to criteria.
Display proper identification or accept classification as detainee.

Detainees are not permitted in the lower floors without identified captor.
Vacate immediately to designated holding areas or face summary execution."

There is a hiss and a metallic clank, and the massive blade drops from the back of the towering golem. It now holds in its hand a falchion, forged from solid steel and bearing numerous runes and glyphs. A quick estimation makes it quickly apparent that the weapon alone outweighs Danaan, Trizbit, and Rattleclank combined.

The exit through which you'd just entered is still blocked off, and though a few of the shutters are open there are still steel-framed windows through which you would have a difficult time leaving.

[malonkey1]

"Gods, you're useless," Danaan whispered back to Trizbit.

"Keep him occupied. I'm going to see if I can get around him." Danaan continued, trying to quietly pad around him upon his soft, lupine feet, "Maybe he has a switch on his back."

Danaan studies the golem as he walks, readying himself to strike when necessary

[Phillammon]

"Ah well. Looks like it's time fer plan B!" says Trizbit, the excitement in her voice barely hidden.

As she raises her arm towards the golem in front of her, the white light on her palm lights up once again. The same thrumming as before returns, but this time much higher pitched, and at a much higher rate. It continues to rise in pitch and speed as Trizbit braces her outstretched right arm against her left, steadying her aim.

With a deep report, almost like an immense drum being sounded, a pulse of distorted air thunders out of the mechanical hand, visibly warping the air as it closes the distance to the Golem. The Golem's chestplate lets out a loud clang, like a bell's toll, as the pulse catches it.

"How's about you pick on someone my size, big guy?"

The Golem's attention now thoroughly caught, and Trizbit's repulsor now fully online, three more shots follow in quick succession. The first and second percussive waves slam into the automaton's chest with similar ringing sounds, but the third skims over its shoulder, slamming into the stonework on the opposite wall with a crunch.

[gr8artist]

The effect of the assault is nearly instantaneous. The stone and metal frame of the creature cracks and groans, but a strange light begins to stitch the stone back together almost instantly. The runes on the golem's weapon glow with a faint violet hue as it grips its massive weapon in two hands, stepping forward and swinging the blade in a wide arc from Trizbit's right side.

There is a sickening crunch as the towering blade slams into Trizbit's heavy armor with a deafening clang. The blade, for being so large, is surprisingly sharp, and in the moment that the hit occurs, Trizbit can see magical energy radiating out from the mirror-smooth edge.
The towering machine then bellows loudly, not in anger but with a stern and unrelenting tone.

"Hostile response unacceptable.
Following execution protocol; accomplices stand down or face execution."

The titan's gaze falls on Low Coo, the nearest 'accomplice', and it doesn't seem to be particularly focused on Danaan right now.

[malonkey1]

"Well, that's not really what I meant, Trizbit..." Danaan has given up all pretense of stealth, "But I admire your enthusiasm."

Danaan has now drawn a short sword, seemingly out of nowhere, (although it was in fact his belt), and attempts to strike at the golem, his blade bouncing off its hard shell.

[Tanuki Tales]

"Yuh can give ole Low Coo yuh best at dat, yuh ovasaize doll!" As the taunt was leaving his lips, Low Coo's free hand moved up into an arcane gesture, a purple aura coating his extended index and middle finger, a similar aura coating the entirety of the golem. "Now here's some scummy luck fa yuh!" No sooner had he finished his gesture than a low rumbling began in the troll's chest. It began as a barely audible sound but quickly grew to a booming and unearthly cacophony that seemed to come just as much from the Witch Doctor's shadow as it did his lips. The colors on his mask burned brightly as the aura around the golem intensified and clung ever tighter to its form as Low Coo's laughter bounced off the walls of the room.