Merry offers Aulderoot a brief, grateful nod as the warlock’s conjured wind shepherds escaped bearings into tidy, clinking piles. “Could be half an hour saved right there—thank you,” he murmurs, slipping the last steel orb into its pouch and cinching it tight before stowing it once more in Bernard’s pack. Together they comb the shattered sarcophagi for any hint of glyphs, canopic jars, or burial trinkets that might reveal who entombed those mummified brutes—or, better yet, why. (Investigation [+5] or Perception [+7]: 1 o.O )

With nothing more to glean, Merry wipes grit from his gloves, pivots toward the opposite archway, and lets his keen gray-green eyes drink in its gloom. One hand rests on the coiled whip at his hip, the other brushing the wall to test for the same seamless stone. “All right,” he whispers, voice steady but edged with resolve. “Whatever game we’re in, the next move lies deeper.” He signals the others to ready themselves, then slips ahead to scout, Bernard’s soft pads and his own deliberate steps scarcely disturbing the hush as they press into the corridor’s waiting dark.

The sarcophagi lids have been smashed into pieces small enough that you cannot make much sense of whatever patterns or decorations that may have adorned them, if any. Nor is anything remaining inside the empty containers save perhaps a small amount of sand, which seems unremarkable under your scrutiny.

The next passage is different, though. Not a tunnel but rather a wide and dark stairway, going down. There's a clockwise curve to this stairway, which is gradual, and the stairway is long, several hundred steps. You wonder again what place this is, where you delve ever deeper downward into darkness.

Eventually the stairs end and you enter.... another octagonal room. It is as the others, with the cardinal directions labeled on each wall. Nothing in the corners. Now there are two passages exiting this room, one to the East and another to the South.

"A fork in our route. Now it gets more challenging. We should really be mapping out the rooms we have come across to make sure we are not getting lost and backtracking. Does anyone have supplies to enable that?"

Aulderoot will continue mapping.

Merry lets a dry smile slip past his usually guarded expression. “Well, friends, our fortunes already went south the moment we woke up on that first slab of stone—so perhaps we’ve paid that toll in advance. I vote we chase the sunrise instead: eastward, toward the first light this place has to offer. If it turns out to be another cruel prank, we can always circle back and resume our downward spiral like proper pessimists.”

The dark passageway to the East leads straight and true... to another large octagonal room! This room is the same as the others, except there is a large sandstone box in the middle of the room. About 3x3x3 feet in dimensions, with a flat stone lid. A lightly carved relief of a sphinx is on the lid, in profile, sitting regally.

Also, this room is a dead end, no other passages but the one you arrived here in.

Merry circles the sandstone cube in thoughtful silence, fingertips brushing its weather-worn edges while questions tumble from his lips like hushed confidences to the shadows. “Tell me—does this carving truly mirror the sphinx we just faced, or is my memory already playing tricks?” He leans closer, squinting at every groove. “Do any other markings hide along these sides—perhaps a name, a warning, a riddle begging to be spoken aloud?” Straightening, he taps the lid with a gloved knuckle, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “And if there is a key, where would we even begin to look for it?” Bernard gives a soft whuff at his feet, but Merry only tilts his head, still coaxing the silent stone for answers it refuses to yield. (Investigation: 20/13; Perception: 15/11; second rolls for dis/advantage)

Merle leans against the wall of the entry way into the dead ended room. "Seems rather suspicious to me, I'm still going with this entire place was purposely crafted, so nothing in here is on accident. So to decide if it is for a needed purpose or a hurtful trap... All I know it there is no clear exit from this room." Merle doesn't trust this box quite yet, though the sphinx connection is growing more and more clear, now 3 rooms have had some sort of reference to the creature and he strongly believes that's no coincidence.

Quote from cyreon >>

Merry circles the sandstone cube in thoughtful silence, fingertips brushing its weather-worn edges while questions tumble from his lips like hushed confidences to the shadows. “Tell me—does this carving truly mirror the sphinx we just faced, or is my memory already playing tricks?” He leans closer, squinting at every groove. “Do any other markings hide along these sides—perhaps a name, a warning, a riddle begging to be spoken aloud?” Straightening, he taps the lid with a gloved knuckle, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “And if there is a key, where would we even begin to look for it?” Bernard gives a soft whuff at his feet, but Merry only tilts his head, still coaxing the silent stone for answers it refuses to yield. (Investigation: 20/13; Perception: 15/11; second rolls for dis/advantage)

 Merry’s ministrations yield no extraordinary results. The sphinx depiction on the lid is rather basic, not necessarily a portrait of the one you saw in the flesh. It appears that the box can be opened by simply lifting off or otherwise removing the lid. There are no hinges or clasps, just a stone lid resting on top. No physical traps or other suspicious red flags are in evidence from Merry’s careful examinations.

Merry draws a quiet breath, places both palms against the cool sandstone, and eases the lid a handspan aside—just enough for a sliver of darkness to appear. “Keep an eye out,” he whispers, weight balanced on the balls of his feet, every sinew poised to leap clear at the first hiss of gas or scrape of hidden gears. Bernard shifts with a low rumble, and the lid grates softly as Merry dares a narrow glimpse into the waiting hollow below. 

No clicks or scrapes, no strange smells. The lid is heavy, solid stone. The light from Poppy's flute causes a reflective glint inside the chest...

With practiced care, Merry sets his shoulders against the coarse sandstone lid and slides it open, the grit of stone whispering under his steady shove. He pauses once the gap yawns halfway across, allowing Poppy’s flute-light to spill into the box. He expects metal—or crystal—to spark at the bottom. Every muscle remains coiled, ready to spring clear, yet his keen eyes linger on the shimmering interior, curiosity pulling him close even as caution holds him taut.

The sandstone box contains what appears to be a fountain pen resting on a small stack of vellum sheets. It was the pen that glinted in the light. Slightly longer than a handspan, it gleams of ivory and mother-of-pearl, with a flourish of golden inlay as well. The vellum sheets are cream-colored, smooth yet durable-feeling, the highest quality, and unused/blank.

Still standing in the entryway, Merle relaxs Abita seeing nothing popping out of the container. "So ... does it bite? Or has it hypnotized you?" He was joking until he said it allowed and realized that could truly be an outcome. "So what's in there?" 

Aulderoot casts flowering over a pile of sand (from the mummies) a swath of brilliant white chrysanthemums bloom.  He heads over to sit among them.  A memory floods his mind, he is at a cairn of rock a dear friend has died he gently places a white chrysanthemum on his grave…

Merry lifts the pen between thumb and forefinger, its mother-of-pearl barrel flashing in the flute-light. A dry smile tugs at his mouth as he calls back to Merle. “Appears our winged hostess keeps a secretary desk down here—just missing the secretary. Think she plans to jot notes while we unravel or record the precise pitch of our death-rattles?” He turns the pen thoughtfully, then adds, “Or perhaps it’s a morbid metaphor or hint of sorts. Why would anyone entomb these tools?” With a light shrug he sets the gleaming instrument atop the vellum stack. “Any of you scribes fancy upgrading your stationery before the madness truly sets in? I think we will have to try the other corridor, this one doesn't lead anywhere.”

"Perhaps the pen is mightier then the sword... Though I finds sticks work better then either." Perplexed by the writing mechanism Merry revealed, Merle wasn't interested in the pen but though lingering though of nothing is Herr by chance rattles around in his brain as he turns back to make his way back.

Does nobody take the pen and vellum?

Heading back to the first room on this level, the other way to go is South. This predictably leads to another octagonal room, this time with 2 more passages available to explore, one to the East again, and another to the South.

Merry hesitates at the threshold, then doubles back to the sandstone box and slips the gleaming pen and pristine vellum into a flat oilskin wallet, tucking the bundle inside Bernard’s pack. “If the sphinx left us a riddle in ink, best not abandon the answer sheet,” he mutters, giving the faithful dog an affectionate pat before rejoining the others.

In the next octagonal chamber he slows his pace, letting Poppy’s flute‑light and the mild glow of Aulderoot’s spell play across every surface. Each room has offered some new quirk, so he studies the frieze for fresh deviations, traces fingertips along the seamless floor for hidden seams, and cranes his neck to scan the forty‑foot ceiling for carvings or cavities. He listens, too—seeking the faintest breeze, drip, or shifting stone that might hint at unseen passages—while Bernard pads a careful circuit, nose low, ears flicking at every hollow echo. Only when Merry is satisfied he’s missed nothing obvious does he glance from the eastward arch to the southern one, weighing their next step in this ever‑deepening puzzle.

(Investigation: 21, Perception 16)

The only quirk of this room seems to be that it has the most passages yet of any you’ve seen so far: one to the north (the way you came), one to the east, and one to the south.