"Wait, it's over?  I didn't even lay eyes on the damn thing!  Glad to see you're all still standing though!  Great job friends." Sayax walks into the room, feeling the energy emanating off of the pillars.  He cautiously walks over to them, examining them as close as he can without touching them.  "Everyone doing alright?  I do have a last healing potion if someone needs it."

Moving out of the cloud and leaning against the wall briefly. "Folks are dying down here too." weekly raising her hand. "That really hurt. I'm pretty much tapped out at this point, I still have some magic bolts though." waving her hand around aimlessly. "Whats the plan? Opening the chest if we can? Or is it double trapped?"

Merrick lets his shoulders slump from the tension and stands tall. As if a drop of water landed at his mouth and rippled with revealing silvery waves outward, his form slowly comes back into view.

He breathes a deep sigh of relief and quickly motions for Vladimir to exit the room should there be any danger left undetected. He acknowledges the Harengon's request to know how he does his trick with a muffled laugh, trying to not breath in the still toxic air. "Once we escape, I can try to... umm... show you the ways of our Orders." Ugh, he was trying to hard to sound as reverent as the Masters but just couldn't seem to nail it. Much less could he actually show him how he does the trick, he thought, it's really just a "me" thing as far as he could tell.

He gives a nod to Sayax, glad to see him again, and points to Ashtear. Thinking alike, he procures the small bottle of fizzy red liquid and presses it into her hand. He swivels his head, "She, erm... May need more?" he says to Sayax as he motions for Ashtear to drink.

Vladimir tosses a body onto the chest.  When it hits the chest, both pillars thrum with energy and each releases a bolt of lightning that strikes the body.  The corpse sizzles, and a foul aroma of roasted, rotted meat fills the chamber.

Laderan finds that nearly all of the items in the armory are dilapidated beyond use.  The two rusty longswords, their enchantment ended, now appear mundane.  Then there is the red, round shield, which appears to be in great shape.

As the sounds of battle die down, Oranir tentatively steps into the room, looking at the others and nodding at each in turn, seemingly relieved that they're okay.

Quote from Zwordsman >>

"Whats the plan? Opening the chest if we can? Or is it double trapped?"

His eyes still shining with eerie amber light, Oranir checks the pillars once again, "They are bathed in magic of their own, we still need to be careful. This chamber is definitely covered in protective spells, it just might be the one we're looking for..." the elf says as he approaches the pillars and approaches Sayax examining it.

((Helping Sayax))

Have the pillars diminished in thrumming?

Ashtear drinks the potion with thanks. But stays sitting.  "Think there's a limit to how often it can do that?  I've got some rope could wet lap the box and pull?  Or blast the pillars? "

Vladimir scratches his chin and takes a close look at the left pillar, looking for a weakness.

Perception: 17

As Sayax takes circles the pillars, trying to ascertain what makes them thrum they way they do, he stumbles upon an actual button on the base of each pillar.  He softly chuckles, then stands up, "It appears this so called place isn't as magical as it would like you all to think it is.  There is an off switch!  Though, um, after watching that corpse fry the way it did, Oranir, would you mind using that misty hand of yours to press them?  See, they are right at the base of each pillar."  As Oranir steps over to assist Sayax, the dragonborn happily points out the buttons, hoping he himself will not have to touch them.

Oranir's mage hand is able to press the button.  Immediately the thrumming of the pillars stops.  Ashtear is able to pick the lock, and the chest creaks open.

Inside, you find 300gp, a scroll of false life, a scroll of frost fingers, and a scroll of Tasha's caustic brew.

There is also a spellbook of hideous construction, consisting of sewn flaps of humanoid skin.

The spellbook:

As you exit the cave, Callbrax is waiting for you on the shore, scroll unfurled.

“Stand still. This’ll only take a moment,” he barks before uttering an incantation. In a flash of blue light, you are transported to a circle of runes on a forest floor. Dark pine trees with enormous spider webs block out the sky. Injured and dead Harpers are laid on stretchers and the remains of skeletons, zombies, demons, constructs, and more litter the ground. Before you is the monolithic tower of black stone that Zaldara calls home. The smell of flesh burning and ring of steel emanates from the place of horrors.

“Stay here!” calls the voice of Remallia Haventree. The elf stands behind you, her left leg crisp with burned flesh and her right arm limp and bleeding. She screams at the tower, “Zaldara! It is done! We have your spellbook!”

An instant later, there is a terrible crack. Appearing before you is a woman with a face that is half beautiful, half skull. Despite her ragged breath and multiple fresh wounds, the Duchess of Rot is still clearly a force to be reckoned with.

She points a finger at Remallia, and lifts her high into the air, and drops the elf back to the ground, unconscious.

The lich then turns to you. “I’ll take that back,” she says with a weak, but defiant voice.

Wisdom (Insight) DC 13:

19 Insight.  19.

Ashtear silently curses as remallia instantly calls thet lich. She'd been planning to up and completely avoid this part of the job.  No one in their right mind would want a LIch to know you screwed them over. 

She looks around at the others with a bit of dread. Having been near death mins before.

Merrick breathes a sigh of relief making it out of the oppressive dungeon, though he gives a disdainful look at the boat that brought him here. Can you believe it, he thought excitedly, we actually made it! Though there were nunerous close calls, the crew had seen through the mission to his successful completion.

He thought back to Master Rhurker and the words of encouragement he left Merrick for the journey ahead. Though Merrick did not believe himself to have the confidence or bravery as of those he admired in the Order of the Rose, he still hoped to do the monastery and his brothers and sisters of the Order of the Chisel proud. Very seldom did the Order of the Chisel produce an adventurer as intrepid or courages of those under the Rose, but this was his chance to prove his worth.

That worth sank very, very deep as he appeared with the party in the grove. Flashbacks to the previous run-ins with the undead flooded his nemories as he witnessed the destruction about the tower. That wasn't nearly as bad as the wave of nausea, not unlike his seasickness, that washed over him upon the appearance of Zaldara. He turned to one side, covered his eyes, and peeked through his fingers as she beckoned.

Perception: 6

Vladimir looks at Zaldara, carefully considering his next words. "It must be hell to be your launderess," he says.

Insight: 13

Vladimir casts create bonfire on the ground and, taking the abominable book in his hand, he holds it over the flames. "Tell us what you know of the origin of the death curse or this thing goes into the fire."

Intimidation: 21

A look of fury encroaches Zaldara's decayed features.  Her skeletal hand flexes and, for a moment, you're certain she's prepared to cast cloudkill.  This is instantly replaced by a look of panic, and she holds out the boney hand.  

"Wait!  Be sensible!  I know what you seek.  I, too, have been researching this, this death curse, as you call it.  The only thing that could cause such a phenomenon is a necromantic device known as a Soulmonger, a machine of unimaginable power pulling souls from this world.  What its purpose is beyond consuming souls is unclear to me.  But, the amount of dark energy gathered by it, on a scale such as this, would be enough to power an undead being like the world has never seen." 

Her ghastly green eyes glow with expectation and wonderment.  As Vladimir again holds the book over the flames, she sputters quickly.  "I-I have not been able to pinpoint the exact location of the Soulmonger, but I do know that it is located in the land of Chult.  Somewhere within its dense jungles!"

"Now, you have what you wanted.   Return my book!"

After the group is able to reveal the interior of the chest, a look of utter wonderment crosses over Oranir's features, as if his surroundings and quest are completely forgotten for a moment. As Vladimir reaches over for the book, the elf is brought back to his surroundings and the distant sounds of battle up above, he blinks several times before nodding and gathering up the rest of the contents and readying to leave that place as fast as possible.

Insight: 12

Oranir later winces as Remalia's body hits the forest dirt floor, the elf tentatively approaches her but stops right as the lich manifests near the group, every movement of his body now tense and calculated. Summoning forth all courage within himself to even address the lich, "A soulmonger? A machine is capable of severing the connection between the Material and the Fugue? What do you know of it besides it being in Chult?" he shoots one hand and eyes Vladimir, silently demanding caution out of the paladin.

Zaldara hisses.  "That is all I know, I swear it!"

Sayax watches this all unfold with no clear understanding on what to do.  Not wanting someone to die on his watch, he leaves the others to discuss the spellbook and heads over to Remallia.  Placing his blue scaled hands on her, he mumbles a few words, casting cure wounds on the poor woman.

Remallia blinks, returned to consciousness, and sits up.  Once Sayax explains what has unfolded, she calls out, "We have the information we need.  Destroy the book!  We'll not have another opportunity such as this to rid the world of such evil!"

"You have no honor!" Zaldara retorts to Remallia.  She glares at Vladimir. "I have given what you demand, now return my book."

Vladimir looks at Zaldara and says, "You speak of honor? You foul abomination! You stinking filth! The honorable thing to do at end of life is to die, but you dishonored yourself in your striving for power and overcoming death. You have killed and tortured many innocents. And you would have me act honorably? To act honorably is to never aid evil. To act honorably is to fight for the good of others. To act honorably is to leave the world a better, more pristine place. But you, instead, have created a great tower of putrescence and villainy. You are not honorable nor are you deserving of it.

But I am honorable. And I am a man of my word. Lady Remallia, I promised this festering sore that if she gave us the information we sought, I would not put the book to the flame. Would you like to do the honors?" Vladimir, not taking his eyes off of Zaldara, holds the book out to Remallia, the flames still underneath it.