Wulgar takes the opportunity to rest and recover.  Short rest hit die :  12 

Keyleth slumps against the wall, clearly wiped from the whole almost-drowning thing. She doesn't have time to go into a trance, but she still takes what time is available to recuperate from the ordeal.

Hit dice: 41

Avarice short rest hit die: 8

Varan sits and gathers his thoughts, preparing for the next trial.

Gazinoth utters a few words in a harsh, discordant language - a wash of arcane sparks instantly floods over his figure, apparently evaporating any trace of water on his figure. "I know nothing of our captor. From my experiences, I have surmised we are all here for some crime according to our captor's standards." He sighs and glances over towards Wulgar. "While I'm certain we are all guilty of something, you are the first group who has offered me aid. Furthermore, you all seem to be agreeable. For the others I have met? I cannot say the same. I will aid you with what you need. That's the least I am capable of." 

A rest is taken. Your wounds heal, and you reflect on the trials ahead. Someone slots the speckled gem - and, in a now-familiar process, the lights whirl - and you find yourselves shunted away into another trial.

Rather than the rooms you are accustomed to, you instead feel a strange sense of weightlessness. Your hearts skip a beat as you instinctively glance around - while you can breathe, the area is a nebulous void, shockingly cold to the skin. Starscapes span the visible horizon of maddening infinity. Areas of darkness where stars do not lie spiral in the distance. Hues of blue, purple, violet, and white fill your sight from all directions. A terrifying sense fills your mind; you are nothing - a drop in this infinite scape, a speck compared to the ultimate majesty of the stars beyond. Your mind seems to dictate the motions here - albeit slowly, you drift in the vague direction of your thought. A silvery cord hangs attached to the necks of all seven visitors. Avarice knows this place as the Astral Plane. 

The only tangible thing within hundreds of miles is a slowly spinning, checkered board instantly recognizable as a chessboard. Carved from pearly, black marble spangled with cream-colored streaks are vaguely humanoid-shaped objects standing where the black pieces should be; simple soldiers line the row of pawns, visors shrouding facial features. Majestic sculptures of bow-wielding archers stand atop castle-like rooks. Statues carved to resemble priests in holy garments take the place of bishops, where knights wielding sword and shield ride atop statues of rearing horses in the place of knights. The queen wears flowing robes; carved in the runes are glyphs and wards. All wear visors - motionless and faceless. The king himself stands taller than the rest, a greatsword clutched between gauntleted hands. 

As soon as you lay your eyes on the board, the two vacant rows opposite the black pieces faintly glow with color - as if beckoning you to approach and set foot on this table. The king's slot glows the brightest. 

Gazinoth, upon seeing this plane, widens his eyes in fear. He begins to glance around at any sign of movement. It's clear he's afraid of something much more than the game. 

"It seems we are in the Astral plane, please be very careful with the silvery chords attached to your necks. Perhaps you could expand on this subject Gazinoth?" Avarice suggests while trying to get hold of how to will himself in different directions.

"The cords tether your essence to the plane you arrived from. They are your conduit to the world. If your cord is severed, your soul is cast adrift in this sea, sent to disperse into the nothingness. It is a fate worse than death." The Githyanki nervously palms his own sword. It appears lined in silver. "Githyanki are known to travel this sea. Silver cuts the cord easily."

(Before the gem is slotted)

Wulgar nods and smiles at the words from Gazinoth.  “One thing that we promised each other at the outset is that we would do each other no harm, that we need to work together to get out of this place.  We took a pledge, an oath, to help each other.  Will you take the same oath with us, Gazinoth?”  Wulgar holds out his hand, to hold in a handshake and pledge confirmation with Gazinoth, with blood if he wants.

     "If these cords... these tethers...  lead back from whence we came then why not just follow them home?" Mulligan would ask, while trying to discreetly do a double check that each and every companion has such a tether.  "Could it not be possible to take us back to what was our reality before all this?  And be less perilous to check than trying our wardens choice of game?"

The Githyanki nods without hesitation, slicing his palm without a flinch. "I take your oath, dragonborn."

"The essence tethers you to a material location back on your original plane," Gazinoth speaks. "It is possible to return to the room we emerged from, certainly, but nowhere else. We also run the risk of being unable to return and complete our goal. We do not have the tools to allow us to follow our link back home. Only to break it - and that would result in our doom."

"Chess."  Varan says the word like he is tasting a piece of rotten meat.  "I never cared for the game.  I presume we will be expected to conduct a game against the pieces on the other side?"  As he surveys the board, his expression makes clear he is no fan of this challenge.  He looks out into the ether.  "And what is this supposed to teach us?  That life is a game?  That we are all pawns?  That our moves are all predetermined?  Whatever this silly test is, we will beat it as we have beaten the others."

     "Would help if we knew the rules to the game..." Mulligan grumbles.

     "Oh, not chess...  I know the game, well enough anyway.  Just be nice to know if we'll have to be following the same rules and all, I mean."

Avarice will try to move closer to the chess board and try to figure out if they all just should choose a position on the board or something else.
Perception: 29 Investigation: 13 both with help from Vorax.

Avarice, judging by the nature of the glowing tiles where the white pieces should be, you infer the task begins when all have placed themselves upon the board - and when one person has been designated as the 'king'. A faint aura of conjuration lingers on nearly all the tiles. Avarice takes this to mean the game of chess will be played with lives - and judging by the weapons fashioned from marble which create the black pieces, this is no mere game of chess; merely, a battlefield organized on a chessboard. 

Avarice turns to the others. "I assume Ragnar would see himself as the king." He says with a smirk. "I'm not sure the positions of the rest of us is of importance. Let's decide on a king and get this over with." He adds, floating around above the chess board with a thin silver cord attached to his neck.

Wulgar says "Agreed.  I would vote for Ragnar or Avarice to play that role."

Ragnar sternly nods his head, as if confirming Avarice's suggestion. "Choose the piece which suits you best." Ragnar floats towards the square tile where the king should be. He touches down on the square - and, as if on cue, his armor and clothes suddenly fade into a pale shade of marble-white opposite the opposing set of pieces. 

"Would you consider taking the role of the queen Keyleth?" Avarice says to Keyleth with a smirk before floating down to the right of Ragnar. (Which would be a bishops position I think, but I guess that does not matter.)

Keyleth considers this. "Sure. But don't make that face at me."

"My apologies Keyleth, I almost thought you would be reluctant to be the queen to a king you seem to despise so much, but never mind." Avarice says with a bow.