Elias carefully studies Rephis's facial expressions and intonation, but detects nothing that would suggest ulterior motives. She seems sincere in her shocked feelings and in her intention to get the ring back for the purpose (albeit a little irrational) of having a 'connection' with Rajmund.
The ghost woman has meanwhile focused on Paqen and Ardana: "The monsters? I don't know... it's been a long time... And also the exact place of their entry... It was in the southwest area... But my memories of this keep are now confused, I can't tell you the path with precision. As for the reason of the attack... the reason why they came, is that their leader, that Lomb... Lamb... - the one who looked like a big fish with tentacles and communicated with telepathy, anyway - hated my precious, my Rajmund. His telepathic words of triumph were so smug and contemptuous... Maybe Rajmund had met that horror in some of his adventures - the ones that always took him away from me - and wronged it..."
"I don't know if they can really still be here..." Lady Nathundam comments "It must have been a long, long time ago... And they've already had their revenge... They've already killed my Rajjmund... and me too... Why would they still have to stay? But you... you're armed. You're also like my Rajmund, aren't you? If there are still any of those monsters around... you'll avenge us!"
Elias remains still, eyes locked on Lady Nathundam as she speaks, his expression a quiet blend of sympathy and calculation. When she finishes, he gives a slight nod, his voice calm but firm, each word measured and sincere.
“I won’t make promises I may not be able to keep, Lady Nathundam.” His gaze is steady, respectful. “Vengeance is a hungry thing—it devours both the avenger and the avenged, and rarely leaves peace in its wake. But truth?” He glances toward Mival. “Truth brings clarity. And perhaps even rest.”
He gestures gently, open-palmed. “If there’s a way to uncover what truly happened—to piece together the threads of betrayal, of Rajmund’s fate, of yours—I will pursue it. I owe at least that much to your story.”
Turning slightly, Elias places a hand briefly on Mival’s shoulder. “And if Mival is truly of that bloodline… I will do what I can to ensure his claim is known. I know the weight that a noble name carries.” A pause. “I bear one myself. And I have the contacts to make sure that the right records are unearthed, and the right ears made to listen.”
Finally, he turns back to her, his voice softening. “That may not bring your Rajmund back. But perhaps it can bring something better than vengeance. A legacy remembered. A name restored.”
And with that, he lowers his head in quiet deference—offering not promise, but purpose.
Zevriel shifts his weight, glancing around at the flooded tomb and the endless shadows. The request for a ring feels almost impossible to him—a tiny thing lost in all this water and ruin—but he keeps his doubts to himself. Still, the practical concern nags at him, and he speaks up, simple and to the point: “How will we know it’s his ring? What’s it look like?”Zev asks, looking from Rephis to Elias, to see if anyone else has the answer.
He pauses, frowning, then blurts out the other thought that’s been building. “How long ago did this all happen? The keep… your Rajmund… Was it years? Or more?” He looks a little embarrassed, realizing too late how blunt his question sounds, but the puzzle of old and new weighs on his mind.
"The legacy of my precious remembered. His name restored” the deceased lady seems to appreciate the idea. "Yes, so be it! But bring me the ring too... His ring..."
"Years?" Rephis sighs at the new question "Perhaps down here I have lost track of the passage of time, but to me it seemed like eons..."
"But I remember the ring as if I still had it before my eyes!" the ghost woman exclaims "Rajmund's wedding ring is crafted from gold, its surface is subtly dulled by time and wear, yet it still gleams with a rich, buttery luster. The band itself is relatively thick and sturdy, a testament to its intended longevity, and it has a slight, comforting weight in the hand. Rajmund did not want large, protruding gems that might snag or be lost. Instead, the focus is on delicate metalwork. Around the circumference, a series of tiny, interweaving knots are meticulously etched into the gold. On the inside of the band are engraved the initials of my precious, two 'R's, and the year of our marriage, 1245 DR".
[[ OOC: One thing all the characters know very well: we are now in the year 1501 DR so the wedding apparently took place 256 years ago! ]]
Elias’s brow furrows slightly at the date—256 years. His noble upbringing gives him an intuitive sense of history, and this places the wedding not just in a different era, but nearly an age past. That realization adds weight to everything: the tragedy, the heartbreak, and now the task ahead. Still kneeling, he looks up at the mournful spirit, his voice gentle.
“Two ‘R’s… and 1245 DR,” he repeats aloud, more to fix the image in everyone’s minds than to confirm her words. “It’s remarkable that you’ve remembered it with such clarity, Lady Nathundam. That memory has endured longer than most mortal legacies.”
He glances toward the others. “If this ring still exists, it may yet serve as the key to proving Mival’s heritage… and perhaps giving you the peace you deserve.” Then to Mival directly, a quieter aside: “And give you a place that is truly yours.”
Returning to Rephis, Elias rises to his feet slowly, respectfully. “We’ll look for it. I won’t make promises I can’t keep—but I will look. If it lies anywhere within these ruins, we’ll find it.” He doesn’t add no matter what stands in our way, but the determination in his eyes speaks the rest.
Then, after a beat of reverent silence, he turns back to the others.
“If we're ready, let’s check the next passage. The ring… Rajmund… the truth… it may lie just beyond the next door.”
Tarysaa moves slowly over to Elias' side, "Mival's 'Lords of the Deep' seem to like collecting things and beings. Might this special ring be in a pile with Thetis' mantle?
At least that is a slim hope rather than having to scour every nook, cranny, and pile of stone to find a ring in all 'this'."
Zevriel listens closely, nodding as the lady describes the ring, quietly repeating to himself, “Two R’s… twelve forty-five… gold, thick, knots.” He looks thoughtful, but the number—1245 DR—means little to him, really. That sounds like forever ago, longer than he can picture.
Then Tarysaa mentions the 'Lords of the Deep,' and Zev’s brow furrows, looking puzzled. He glances between her and Mival, scratching his head.
“Lords of the Deep? I’m… not following. Who are they? Are they the same as the monsters the lady spoke of? I’m a bit lost.” His voice is honest, not ashamed—he’d rather ask than pretend.
Elias turns slightly as Tarysaa approaches, nodding thoughtfully. Her point is a good one—if the Lords From Below have a habit of collecting items of meaning, like Thetis’ mantle, then perhaps Rajmund’s ring was taken, not lost.
“That’s a comforting thought,” Elias murmurs. “If they have a reason to collect such items… it’s possible the ring is with them. That gives us more hope than searching blindly.”
When Zevriel expresses confusion, Elias addresses him with calm clarity.
“The Lords From Below,” he explains, “are doppelgangers, like Mival. They’re a secretive group—long-lived, subtle, and manipulative. We don’t know much about their goals, only that they’ve taken an interest in certain artifacts and bloodlines.”
He pauses, then adds carefully:
“As for what happened to Rajmund… we don’t know if they were involved. They’re old enough to have been, theoretically, but we haven’t found anything that links them to this ruin, or to that night. Right now, it’s just speculation.”
Elias looks toward the spectral figure of Rephis and then back to the others.
“What we do know is that we’ve been granted a blessing from Eldath—and that means we can finish exploring these ruins. The more we uncover, the more likely we’ll find the truth. Let’s complete our sweep. Then we can decide what to do next.”
He glances to each of his companions—Sharinn, Tarysaa, Zevriel, Paqen, Ardana, Mival—inviting their thoughts. “Agreed?”
Zevriel nods slowly as Elias explains, eyes darting toward the shadowed corners of the room. His hand settles on his twinblade, more out of comfort than threat. Something about ancient, malevolent beings puts him on edge, and the talk of a vault or lair makes him cautious.
He looks to the ghostly lady, thinking it over, then asks, voice simple and a bit hesitant, “Did you… did you make that shrine to Eldath upstairs? Or was it already here? Or was installed later?” His brow furrows. “Just… wondering. We got her blessing, but I don’t know how long it lasts. Hope it doesn’t run out when we need it most. Perhaps, Rajmund had been blessed, too.”
He looks to the group, concern plain on his face. “We should be careful, just in case.”
"A shrine to Eldath?!" Rephis is surprised "I don't know anything about it... And I strongly doubt my precious had any blessing as he came for me... No, no blessing for us, I'm afraid".
In the meantime, Mival corrects Elias: "I think Tarysaa meant the 'Lords from Below' - and those are not abminations... they are just Doppelgangers, like me, organized in a group. They might have kept the ring, if tge have found it - but they did not explore this submerged level very much. If they had found it, Setopur would have been tasked to sell it, I think... He is the best merchant among the Lords from Below. We can look for him and ask, if you wish... But they might as well never found it".
As much as we are blessed by Eldath, it seems like the source of the water and the monsters are one and the same, and if we eliminate one we may be able to eliminate the other and drain these ruins, and find your ring. We will undertake this quest, my lady.
Paqen stands stunned. “Lady Eldath would never use her powers to sow misfoutune…at least not deliberately. These attackers must have had some quarrel or somehow manipulated her.”He pauses, “That or someone erected the shrine after the events had transpired. Yes that would make more sense..”
He collects himself mentally and nods in acknowledgment to Rhepis. “I would be honoured to aid as well. If the lady of calm waters had anything to do I will help to set it right. If she is not involved it is just the right thing to do. Everyone deserves respite from their troubles…especially after this long.”
"I don't think the goddess was involved..." Rephis admits "Those damned monsters who wanted my precious Rajmund dead were underwater monsters - they must have brought the water themselves, somehow, either to gain an advantage or to put my Rajmund at a disadvantage. He was hampered by the great amount of water coming in through the gap in the wall that opened up... and so my Rajmund had to fight not only against them - but also against the water that was hampering him and against time, because when the water level rose too high, we would drown..."
"It was the work of cowardly monsters, if you ask me," the noble ghost fumes, "rather than the work of a goddess."
Zevriel listens as the conversation winds on, but his focus starts to slip—talk of monsters, shrines, doppelgangers, and noble bloodlines swimming around in his head. He nods along, but his eyes keep drifting toward the darkened doorway back the way they came.
Finally, when there’s a pause, he gives a little, polite nod to the group and to the ghostly lady. “We’ll keep looking,” he says simply, not wanting to interrupt or seem rude. Then, without much more fuss, he quietly starts to shuffle back to the main room, careful where he steps, ready to check the next corridor or door. Zev keeps his twinblade ready—just in case—but his manner is calm, more curious than tense. He’ll let the others talk, but for now, he’s ready to explore.
[[ OOC: Assuming the party follows Zevriel - but if anyone has other plans, set them according to what they want to do ]]
And so, dead eyes, but shaken by an unexpected novelty and, for the first time in who knows how long, open to a new hope, they watch the heroes blessed by Eldath retrace their steps to resume the exploration.
Once back in the Permanent Teleportation Circle room, the unexplored paths are the northernmost exit and the southernmost one, always on the west wall... Which path will the adventurers want to explore first?
Zevriel’s quiet lead is soon joined by the others as the party glides back through the submerged corridor, the ghostly lament of Rephis fading behind them like a distant ripple in the water. The room with the permanent teleportation circle welcomes them once more, its glowing runes casting eerie green-gold light that dances across the marble floor and their drifting silhouettes.
Though entirely underwater, the blessing of Eldath wraps around them like a protective veil—allowing each of them to breathe and speak as though they were on land. Their voices carry clearly, if strangely muted by the water, and their movements stir only gentle currents.
Elias turns toward the others, his cloak swaying behind him, and gestures toward the northernmost archway in the west wall.
“Let’s try the northern corridor,” he says, his voice somehow crisp despite the depths. “If there are answers or dangers ahead, I’d rather face them prepared—before we even think about that portal.”
His expression is steady, but there's a spark of resolve in his eyes. Whether it’s justice, truth, or simply the next piece of the mystery—they’ll find it, together.
The northernmost corridor quickly leads to a large room that contains several cells, some smaller along the north side, some slightly less small along the south side. Each cell has a metal gate, which must have been sturdy at one time, but is now rusty and open. The entrances are a wide corridor (10' wide) opening into the easternmost part of the south wall and a more modest corridor (5' wide) opening into the west wall.
Part of the ceiling has collapsed (painted area), so this area is now in communication with the upper Level. Furthermore, a good part of the floor and contents of the room above have collapsed onto the floor of this room and clutter the area. In addition to the rubble of the floor, there are remains of tools (shovels, picks, spades and other less recognizable tools, perhaps still recognizable but now ruined by the long stay in water).
In the center of the room, a Medium-sized winged reptile seems absorbed in meditation. It has a sleek, streamlined body, a long tail, four legs, and two large wings. It has scales of dull, opaque purple, with a few small amethyst gems embedded in the scales. Crystalline horns reminiscent of amethyst chunks hover behind its heads, held there by mysterious force and tendon.
"Oh, this is the dragon Nesurentul..." Mival whispers to the party. "He is not hostile - or at least, he never has been to us Lords from Below. Usually, he ignores us... much like he is doing now. And so do we."
As the party drifts into the submerged cell chamber, the gentle sway of the water stirs the silt and rust, casting ethereal spirals of light and shadow. And then they see him.
Elias stops mid-glide.
His breath catches—not from lack of air, but from wonder. A dragon.
Not some sketch in a dusty tome or carved relief on a noble hall’s wall. A real one. Coiled in meditative silence beneath the collapsed ruin of a forgotten keep, its wings folded like cathedral spires, its amethyst horns floating as though suspended in a dream. The creature is beautiful. Alien. Timeless.
Elias barely registers Mival's whisper—"Nesurentul... not hostile..."—before slowly turning to the others, his voice hushed but charged with reverence.
“It’s a dragon,” he says, as if the word alone might unlock some mystery. “An actual dragon… Gods, look at him.”
He glances toward the rubble-strewn floor and the faint passageway behind the dragon's resting place.
“If he’s lived here this long, maybe he knows what happened to Rajmund… or the monsters… or what else lies below. We’d be fools not to ask. Should we speak to him?”
Elias’s voice is respectful, but his eyes gleam with the thrill of discovery—the kind that can’t be denied. The kind only a true adventurer knows.
Paqen looks on at the dragon, taking it all in having never seen one before. “Not hostile you say…here’s hoping. What an impressive beast. Does he ever leave the Keep? I mean do the townsfolk know him?” He pauses and looks to Mival, “I should say does he interact with others or just hide out down here?”
Zevriel freezes when he sees the dragon, tense and silent. He glances at Mival, who said that the Lords from Below never spoke to this creature. That makes him uneasy, he whispers, “If your folk don’t talk to him, maybe there’s a reason. But he’s not hurt us yet. Just… let’s not push our luck.”Zev stays back, ready to follow their lead, hoping waking dragons is as safe as they say.
Elias carefully studies Rephis's facial expressions and intonation, but detects nothing that would suggest ulterior motives. She seems sincere in her shocked feelings and in her intention to get the ring back for the purpose (albeit a little irrational) of having a 'connection' with Rajmund.
The ghost woman has meanwhile focused on Paqen and Ardana: "The monsters? I don't know... it's been a long time... And also the exact place of their entry... It was in the southwest area... But my memories of this keep are now confused, I can't tell you the path with precision. As for the reason of the attack... the reason why they came, is that their leader, that Lomb... Lamb... - the one who looked like a big fish with tentacles and communicated with telepathy, anyway - hated my precious, my Rajmund. His telepathic words of triumph were so smug and contemptuous... Maybe Rajmund had met that horror in some of his adventures - the ones that always took him away from me - and wronged it..."
"I don't know if they can really still be here..." Lady Nathundam comments "It must have been a long, long time ago... And they've already had their revenge... They've already killed my Rajjmund... and me too... Why would they still have to stay? But you... you're armed. You're also like my Rajmund, aren't you? If there are still any of those monsters around... you'll avenge us!"
Elias remains still, eyes locked on Lady Nathundam as she speaks, his expression a quiet blend of sympathy and calculation. When she finishes, he gives a slight nod, his voice calm but firm, each word measured and sincere.
“I won’t make promises I may not be able to keep, Lady Nathundam.” His gaze is steady, respectful. “Vengeance is a hungry thing—it devours both the avenger and the avenged, and rarely leaves peace in its wake. But truth?” He glances toward Mival. “Truth brings clarity. And perhaps even rest.”
He gestures gently, open-palmed. “If there’s a way to uncover what truly happened—to piece together the threads of betrayal, of Rajmund’s fate, of yours—I will pursue it. I owe at least that much to your story.”
Turning slightly, Elias places a hand briefly on Mival’s shoulder. “And if Mival is truly of that bloodline… I will do what I can to ensure his claim is known. I know the weight that a noble name carries.” A pause. “I bear one myself. And I have the contacts to make sure that the right records are unearthed, and the right ears made to listen.”
Finally, he turns back to her, his voice softening. “That may not bring your Rajmund back. But perhaps it can bring something better than vengeance. A legacy remembered. A name restored.”
And with that, he lowers his head in quiet deference—offering not promise, but purpose.
Zevriel shifts his weight, glancing around at the flooded tomb and the endless shadows. The request for a ring feels almost impossible to him—a tiny thing lost in all this water and ruin—but he keeps his doubts to himself. Still, the practical concern nags at him, and he speaks up, simple and to the point: “How will we know it’s his ring? What’s it look like?” Zev asks, looking from Rephis to Elias, to see if anyone else has the answer.
He pauses, frowning, then blurts out the other thought that’s been building. “How long ago did this all happen? The keep… your Rajmund… Was it years? Or more?” He looks a little embarrassed, realizing too late how blunt his question sounds, but the puzzle of old and new weighs on his mind.
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
"The legacy of my precious remembered. His name restored” the deceased lady seems to appreciate the idea. "Yes, so be it! But bring me the ring too... His ring..."
"Years?" Rephis sighs at the new question "Perhaps down here I have lost track of the passage of time, but to me it seemed like eons..."
"But I remember the ring as if I still had it before my eyes!" the ghost woman exclaims "Rajmund's wedding ring is crafted from gold, its surface is subtly dulled by time and wear, yet it still gleams with a rich, buttery luster. The band itself is relatively thick and sturdy, a testament to its intended longevity, and it has a slight, comforting weight in the hand. Rajmund did not want large, protruding gems that might snag or be lost. Instead, the focus is on delicate metalwork. Around the circumference, a series of tiny, interweaving knots are meticulously etched into the gold. On the inside of the band are engraved the initials of my precious, two 'R's, and the year of our marriage, 1245 DR".
[[ OOC: One thing all the characters know very well: we are now in the year 1501 DR so the wedding apparently took place 256 years ago! ]]
Elias’s brow furrows slightly at the date—256 years. His noble upbringing gives him an intuitive sense of history, and this places the wedding not just in a different era, but nearly an age past. That realization adds weight to everything: the tragedy, the heartbreak, and now the task ahead. Still kneeling, he looks up at the mournful spirit, his voice gentle.
“Two ‘R’s… and 1245 DR,” he repeats aloud, more to fix the image in everyone’s minds than to confirm her words. “It’s remarkable that you’ve remembered it with such clarity, Lady Nathundam. That memory has endured longer than most mortal legacies.”
He glances toward the others. “If this ring still exists, it may yet serve as the key to proving Mival’s heritage… and perhaps giving you the peace you deserve.” Then to Mival directly, a quieter aside: “And give you a place that is truly yours.”
Returning to Rephis, Elias rises to his feet slowly, respectfully. “We’ll look for it. I won’t make promises I can’t keep—but I will look. If it lies anywhere within these ruins, we’ll find it.” He doesn’t add no matter what stands in our way, but the determination in his eyes speaks the rest.
Then, after a beat of reverent silence, he turns back to the others.
“If we're ready, let’s check the next passage. The ring… Rajmund… the truth… it may lie just beyond the next door.”
Tarysaa moves slowly over to Elias' side, "Mival's 'Lords of the Deep' seem to like collecting things and beings. Might this special ring be in a pile with Thetis' mantle?
At least that is a slim hope rather than having to scour every nook, cranny, and pile of stone to find a ring in all 'this'."
Zevriel listens closely, nodding as the lady describes the ring, quietly repeating to himself, “Two R’s… twelve forty-five… gold, thick, knots.” He looks thoughtful, but the number—1245 DR—means little to him, really. That sounds like forever ago, longer than he can picture.
Then Tarysaa mentions the 'Lords of the Deep,' and Zev’s brow furrows, looking puzzled. He glances between her and Mival, scratching his head.
“Lords of the Deep? I’m… not following. Who are they? Are they the same as the monsters the lady spoke of? I’m a bit lost.” His voice is honest, not ashamed—he’d rather ask than pretend.
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
Elias turns slightly as Tarysaa approaches, nodding thoughtfully. Her point is a good one—if the Lords From Below have a habit of collecting items of meaning, like Thetis’ mantle, then perhaps Rajmund’s ring was taken, not lost.
“That’s a comforting thought,” Elias murmurs. “If they have a reason to collect such items… it’s possible the ring is with them. That gives us more hope than searching blindly.”
When Zevriel expresses confusion, Elias addresses him with calm clarity.
“The Lords From Below,” he explains, “are doppelgangers, like Mival. They’re a secretive group—long-lived, subtle, and manipulative. We don’t know much about their goals, only that they’ve taken an interest in certain artifacts and bloodlines.”
He pauses, then adds carefully:
“As for what happened to Rajmund… we don’t know if they were involved. They’re old enough to have been, theoretically, but we haven’t found anything that links them to this ruin, or to that night. Right now, it’s just speculation.”
Elias looks toward the spectral figure of Rephis and then back to the others.
“What we do know is that we’ve been granted a blessing from Eldath—and that means we can finish exploring these ruins. The more we uncover, the more likely we’ll find the truth. Let’s complete our sweep. Then we can decide what to do next.”
He glances to each of his companions—Sharinn, Tarysaa, Zevriel, Paqen, Ardana, Mival—inviting their thoughts. “Agreed?”
Zevriel nods slowly as Elias explains, eyes darting toward the shadowed corners of the room. His hand settles on his twinblade, more out of comfort than threat. Something about ancient, malevolent beings puts him on edge, and the talk of a vault or lair makes him cautious.
He looks to the ghostly lady, thinking it over, then asks, voice simple and a bit hesitant, “Did you… did you make that shrine to Eldath upstairs? Or was it already here? Or was installed later?” His brow furrows. “Just… wondering. We got her blessing, but I don’t know how long it lasts. Hope it doesn’t run out when we need it most. Perhaps, Rajmund had been blessed, too.”
He looks to the group, concern plain on his face. “We should be careful, just in case.”
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
"A shrine to Eldath?!" Rephis is surprised "I don't know anything about it... And I strongly doubt my precious had any blessing as he came for me... No, no blessing for us, I'm afraid".
In the meantime, Mival corrects Elias: "I think Tarysaa meant the 'Lords from Below' - and those are not abminations... they are just Doppelgangers, like me, organized in a group. They might have kept the ring, if tge have found it - but they did not explore this submerged level very much. If they had found it, Setopur would have been tasked to sell it, I think... He is the best merchant among the Lords from Below. We can look for him and ask, if you wish... But they might as well never found it".
As much as we are blessed by Eldath, it seems like the source of the water and the monsters are one and the same, and if we eliminate one we may be able to eliminate the other and drain these ruins, and find your ring. We will undertake this quest, my lady.
Paqen stands stunned. “Lady Eldath would never use her powers to sow misfoutune…at least not deliberately. These attackers must have had some quarrel or somehow manipulated her.”He pauses, “That or someone erected the shrine after the events had transpired. Yes that would make more sense..”
He collects himself mentally and nods in acknowledgment to Rhepis. “I would be honoured to aid as well. If the lady of calm waters had anything to do I will help to set it right. If she is not involved it is just the right thing to do. Everyone deserves respite from their troubles…especially after this long.”
"I don't think the goddess was involved..." Rephis admits "Those damned monsters who wanted my precious Rajmund dead were underwater monsters - they must have brought the water themselves, somehow, either to gain an advantage or to put my Rajmund at a disadvantage. He was hampered by the great amount of water coming in through the gap in the wall that opened up... and so my Rajmund had to fight not only against them - but also against the water that was hampering him and against time, because when the water level rose too high, we would drown..."
"It was the work of cowardly monsters, if you ask me," the noble ghost fumes, "rather than the work of a goddess."
Zevriel listens as the conversation winds on, but his focus starts to slip—talk of monsters, shrines, doppelgangers, and noble bloodlines swimming around in his head. He nods along, but his eyes keep drifting toward the darkened doorway back the way they came.
Finally, when there’s a pause, he gives a little, polite nod to the group and to the ghostly lady. “We’ll keep looking,” he says simply, not wanting to interrupt or seem rude. Then, without much more fuss, he quietly starts to shuffle back to the main room, careful where he steps, ready to check the next corridor or door. Zev keeps his twinblade ready—just in case—but his manner is calm, more curious than tense. He’ll let the others talk, but for now, he’s ready to explore.
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
[[ OOC: Assuming the party follows Zevriel - but if anyone has other plans, set them according to what they want to do ]]
And so, dead eyes, but shaken by an unexpected novelty and, for the first time in who knows how long, open to a new hope, they watch the heroes blessed by Eldath retrace their steps to resume the exploration.
Once back in the Permanent Teleportation Circle room, the unexplored paths are the northernmost exit and the southernmost one, always on the west wall... Which path will the adventurers want to explore first?
Zevriel’s quiet lead is soon joined by the others as the party glides back through the submerged corridor, the ghostly lament of Rephis fading behind them like a distant ripple in the water. The room with the permanent teleportation circle welcomes them once more, its glowing runes casting eerie green-gold light that dances across the marble floor and their drifting silhouettes.
Though entirely underwater, the blessing of Eldath wraps around them like a protective veil—allowing each of them to breathe and speak as though they were on land. Their voices carry clearly, if strangely muted by the water, and their movements stir only gentle currents.
Elias turns toward the others, his cloak swaying behind him, and gestures toward the northernmost archway in the west wall.
“Let’s try the northern corridor,” he says, his voice somehow crisp despite the depths. “If there are answers or dangers ahead, I’d rather face them prepared—before we even think about that portal.”
His expression is steady, but there's a spark of resolve in his eyes. Whether it’s justice, truth, or simply the next piece of the mystery—they’ll find it, together.
The northernmost corridor quickly leads to a large room that contains several cells, some smaller along the north side, some slightly less small along the south side. Each cell has a metal gate, which must have been sturdy at one time, but is now rusty and open. The entrances are a wide corridor (10' wide) opening into the easternmost part of the south wall and a more modest corridor (5' wide) opening into the west wall.
Part of the ceiling has collapsed (painted area), so this area is now in communication with the upper Level. Furthermore, a good part of the floor and contents of the room above have collapsed onto the floor of this room and clutter the area. In addition to the rubble of the floor, there are remains of tools (shovels, picks, spades and other less recognizable tools, perhaps still recognizable but now ruined by the long stay in water).
In the center of the room, a Medium-sized winged reptile seems absorbed in meditation. It has a sleek, streamlined body, a long tail, four legs, and two large wings. It has scales of dull, opaque purple, with a few small amethyst gems embedded in the scales. Crystalline horns reminiscent of amethyst chunks hover behind its heads, held there by mysterious force and tendon.
"Oh, this is the dragon Nesurentul..." Mival whispers to the party. "He is not hostile - or at least, he never has been to us Lords from Below. Usually, he ignores us... much like he is doing now. And so do we."
As the party drifts into the submerged cell chamber, the gentle sway of the water stirs the silt and rust, casting ethereal spirals of light and shadow. And then they see him.
Elias stops mid-glide.
His breath catches—not from lack of air, but from wonder. A dragon.
Not some sketch in a dusty tome or carved relief on a noble hall’s wall. A real one. Coiled in meditative silence beneath the collapsed ruin of a forgotten keep, its wings folded like cathedral spires, its amethyst horns floating as though suspended in a dream. The creature is beautiful. Alien. Timeless.
Elias barely registers Mival's whisper—"Nesurentul... not hostile..."—before slowly turning to the others, his voice hushed but charged with reverence.
“It’s a dragon,” he says, as if the word alone might unlock some mystery. “An actual dragon… Gods, look at him.”
He glances toward the rubble-strewn floor and the faint passageway behind the dragon's resting place.
“If he’s lived here this long, maybe he knows what happened to Rajmund… or the monsters… or what else lies below. We’d be fools not to ask. Should we speak to him?”
Elias’s voice is respectful, but his eyes gleam with the thrill of discovery—the kind that can’t be denied. The kind only a true adventurer knows.
Paqen looks on at the dragon, taking it all in having never seen one before. “Not hostile you say…here’s hoping. What an impressive beast. Does he ever leave the Keep? I mean do the townsfolk know him?” He pauses and looks to Mival, “I should say does he interact with others or just hide out down here?”
Zevriel freezes when he sees the dragon, tense and silent. He glances at Mival, who said that the Lords from Below never spoke to this creature. That makes him uneasy, he whispers, “If your folk don’t talk to him, maybe there’s a reason. But he’s not hurt us yet. Just… let’s not push our luck.” Zev stays back, ready to follow their lead, hoping waking dragons is as safe as they say.
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||