"Are you here to stem the darkness of this place? Or is your power bringing you here for something... Else?" Darastrag asks Aerin, eyes unblinking and frill stiff along his skull.

"Are you here to stem the darkness of this place? Or is your power bringing you here for something... Else?" Darastrag asks Aerin, eyes unblinking and frill stiff along his skull.

"I came here for the reasons I stated," Aerin replies, feeling a little defensive.  "I'm not even sure my Patron knows I exist most of the time.  I- people- are like specs of dust to things like that.  If it did... notice me, then still believe that I have no reason to want to harm anyone."

Not for the first time Aerin wondered exactly what her Patron wanted.  Since her little tiff with Ryndil and gaining her powers it hasn't made any demands.  It simply was.  An occasional lurking presence, a terrible sense of awareness...  Sometimes she rather regretted speaking those words aloud.

The monk grabs hold of the spear and with an iron grip pulls it free, the goblin slides down the wall into a crumpled heap. Carved into the wall behind where the goblin had been skewered is a relief of a lidless eye. Beneath the eye are harsh looking runes in a strange language. Blood stains the wall around the staring eye, but the eye itself is clean as if the blood has been absorbed into the stone.

The sound of the body falling grabs Aerin's attention.

"Oh no, I recognize that language..." Aerin murmurs and moves to get a closer look at the writing and the rest of the room.

Investigation 8

N'ruel traces a finger over the marking. "I have seen similar markings before in the underdark, however I did not study their meaning." He steps aside to allow Aerin a closer inspection. 

The monk continues to scan the room, attempting to discern if there us anything is odd or out of place.

Perception 20

Darastrag nods to Aerin. "Do not feel alone, friend Aerin. This child of the Khecuala will stand beside you and help you." He looks around for anything that catches his eye as a tracker or hunter.

Investigation: 7

Esvele tries to listens through the door. // Perception check 18   //

While his companions begin to drift around the room, Tovar takes a moment to lean ponderously against a less grime besmeared section of wall. 

"Aerin, lass." Tovar rumbles, "the others might be satisfied to let your past bygones be, but not Tovar. I wish to know what you saw. We are all here for the reason of finding secrets and lost villagers, but this does not stop us from carrying secondary cargo. Indeed for a group who have traveled together for so long I do no say you I know. Why is lizardman so far from swamp, among snow and other race? Why is drow above ground, whacking things with fist and saying not much? Why is sailor god sending someone so far from cry of sea? And why is a wealthy child of aristocracy and historical study delving into ancient cities of older magic? What hands of fate guide your strings today,  hm? All these secrets make it difficult for Tovar to trust."

Tovar's friendly blue eyes peer out from behind his craggy, smokey mustache unable quite to remove the glint of suspicion dancing through his cobalt gaze.

Esvele remarks back in a stage whisper, "My goddess is the wind and the wind goes everywhere air flows. Besides it's not the time for ecumenical discussions. Now, all of you hush, I'm trying to listen here." 

"What can I say, Tovar?" Aerin replies in a whisper as not to disturb Esvele.  "I have told you everything I can.  I have acted in good faith and have not  deceived you but if you do not trust me, or any of the others, then there is nothing I can do.  Hopefully my actions from now on will show I am worthy of trust.  And Darastrag?  Thank you for your willingness not to presume the worst."

With that, she turns to await what Esvele can hear beyond the door.

"Lizardman searches for missing family," Darastrag hisses to Tovar, frill flushing brilliant red. "Learns ways of cold weather creatures. Finds wanderers lost in wilderness. Why does big loud human travel with so many strangers?"

Tovar laughs and grins broadly at his scaled companion. "Good business."

With a nod to Aerin, Tovar stands and moves towards the door they just entered from, guarding the rear from any threats. 

Aerin's translation spoiler:

 Esvele leans close to the wooden door, placing her ear against the rough grain as she listens for what might lie beyond. Behind the southwestern door the light pitter patter of feet and the familiar chattering of rodent can be heard. From the door in the northwestern part of the tower there is nothing but silence.

N'Ruel scans the room with an eye for detail. All of the goblin bodies have been looted, nothing of value has been left behind. Moving around the circular room the drow notices something odd. A stone block of masonry in the southern wall is not flush with the other stones. Running his pale hand around where the mortar should be a slight draft of air blows against his palm indicating another chamber might be hidden beyond.

 "The words... are a name.  I think.  Let me write it in the dust as it's not wise to speak such things aloud."

Gazer in the Dark

Aerin sketches the name in Common and allows everyone to see before wiping the dust clear.

Esvele rejoins the group and in a hushed voice, says, "Rodents. Silence." She points at the appropriate door for the given word.

"And you N'ruel, find anything?" 

Turning to Aerin, "Gazer in the Dark? Never heard that phrase or name before.  What is that language was it written in?" 

Aerin flinches as Esvele speaks the name.

"Deep Speech.  It's the language of aberrations and things from the Far Realms," Aerin replies.  "Best not speak it too often in this place.  If this is a temple... speaking its name may draw its attention.  That... was partially how I became a warlock in the first place."

"Yes, something here," N'ruel replies to Esvele while tracing a finger around the peculiar stone. "There is something beyond here. I feel a draft." When the rest of the party makes their way near, he looks back to make sure all are ready. The drow places a palm on the stone and presses it inward.

Darastrag nods to N'ruel and nocks an arrow, ready for something to burst out of the possible secret door.

N'Ruel presses on the stone and it begins to slowly slide into the wall. The monk notices something metallic catch the light from Esvele's shield, glinting momentarily, and quickly pulls his hand back as a long sharp needle darts out from between the masonry, narrowly avoiding driving into the flesh of the drow. The low rumble of stone grinding on stone can be heard as the wall in front of N'Ruel slides down into the floor kicking up a cloud of dust as a gust of cold damp air escapes the once sealed chamber.

The holy light of Tymestl cascades across the floor of the small pocket chamber sending the shadows skittering away to hide in the nooks and crannies. The bleached white bones of three long dead archers slump against rubble filled arrow slits along east and south wall. Their rotted clothes sag over the skeletons like emaciated flesh, cobwebbed arrows can be seen still resting within the quivers strapped to their backs. A dry rotted purse has burst, like a piece of spoiled fruit, scattering gold and silver coins across the room.

Map