“This has got to be some kind of elvish joke.” said Nicolai surveying the uncounted wealth beyond the glowing archway. His eye scanned the glowing arch suspiciously. “Elyas, or whoever commands that treasure would not leave it unguarded. Miklos what do you think?”
“No one, in my opinion, leaves their wealth on the floor for any to take. This must be some trap. My guess this is some phantasm sent to beguile the witless. What fate met those who entered?”
“Well there is one way to find out.” bustled the cleric as he reached inside his pocket for a copper coin. “Lets see what happens to this.” He tossed the coin through the archway.
The copper kopec bounced on the marble floor and came to a rest amongst the other coinage.
“Hmmm… maybe the clue lies in those runes.” muttered Miklos as he tried to decipher them. They were written in old Elyan script, and it was proving difficult to translate.
The dwarf’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head seeing such a horde and almost involuntarily he started towards it before catching the words from his companions. He slowed then stopped just outside the entranceway to the treasury. BAH! He was here for a witch-hunt not treasure, he sternly reminded himself with a scowl. He turned to scan the area where the party stood alertly once more. ”Okay, so where’d the witch go?”
Seeing that no one had an answer to his question Feldard forced himself to ignore the call of the treasure and instead moved to the wall with the writings on it. Maybe there was yet another secret passage, hiding the witches. He checked for such.
Nicolai grinned. He didn’t do it often but being caught out buy the dwarf was embarrasing. So easily he attention had been dragged away from potential danger. People don’t get to make too many mistakes like that. “If she had the password to enter the archways we cannot follow her without risking whatever Elyas had in store for those who passed. My guess is the doors because doubtless she would be gloating at us from the room yonder safely beyond our reach. Any success Miklos?””
“Patience!” snapped the mage.
“Allow me,” said Saeth, walking in front of the mage and finally snapping out of her silence (she had been composing a brilliant aria in her head about the rise and fall of the clan of Elyas). With her interest in epic poetry, she was familiar with a wide variety of elven dialects and handwriting. She also wanted to read it before Hasan beat her to it.
“Ahem,” she cleared her throat. “It says. ‘Once the portal is crossed, Make no mistake, A part of my treasury you will make.”
5 Comments
September 7, 2008 at 7:08 pm
“What does that mean? ‘A part of the treasury you will make?’” asked Maruc. “Is it some sort of forced labour trap? You are transported somewhere any made to make jewelry for the rest of your life?”
September 7, 2008 at 7:20 pm
“Ignore it Maruc, unless you want to test Elyas.” said Nicolai whilest he inspected the door opposite. “But I doubt he is too forgiving if you choose to rob him.”
September 7, 2008 at 7:22 pm
Maruc blustered, “I am no thief! I was mearly trying to understand the nature of the riddle.”
September 7, 2008 at 7:49 pm
Miklos watched Feldard’s expression and thought for a while. “The fabulous wealth in platinum statues alone that Elyas owns ….” He raised an eyebrow. “One moment.” He retraced his steps into the previous corridor and studied one of the statues.
assuming all the intricate statues have the same expression as the ones we saw in the corridor above…
Miklos returned, “I have a theory thats all to do with the expressions on the platinum statues. Have you noticed their wide smiles? The obsessive attention to detail, but more importantly they are all dressed like us? Not one of the Elan pose amongst them. Do you not think that is strange? If in fact may I be so bold Feldard that it was your expression upon entering this room that lead me to the thought that who we have been passing are those unfortunate enough to cross the portal.”
September 8, 2008 at 5:25 am
“I agree with Miklos. None of the Siswa would crave such wealth. Indeed, I doubt such wealth ever existed in my tribe, no rumor – exagerated as rumor may be – would suggest as much. Come. Follow me! The witch is what we crave, not illusory wealth.” With those words and hearfelt sense of mission to the missing Siswa girls, Hasan turned abruptly away from the riches before the party. He seized the heavy ring of one of the aged doors ahead of the party, braced himself momentaily, and threw his weight against the door, attempting to push it forward into the next chamber. He followed it forward, brandishing his sword.