As Miklos finished examining the last fresco. “….Karalena…Solorena….Trilena.” he mumbled as he tranlated the transcript beneath each portrait. “Here at least is conformation of the villagers recollection of events. Sadly it gives no clue or foretelling as to how to defeat the Sisters. It poses one question though. Why, after the initial defeat of the Sisters would you come down here finish off a fresco then bury it along with everything else? They set a powerful stone guardian to guard the way to the ruin? I either have no true understanding of elves, or we are not in full possession of the facts.”
“Still, we mustn’t stay here discussing semantics. I can almost hear our redoubtable Dwarf summoning words to hasten us before they have be voiced!”
The priest was no less absorbed by the intricately fashioned art. His eyes darkened as he scanned the images of the Darker incursion. He listened the Miklos’s quiet translation. The solemnity of the room was not lost on him. In the days of its might it would have been glorious, now it was a sad reflection echoing the corruption of the incorruptible.
Musty air. The thin beam of light from Nicolai’s lightstone swept the empty room. Straightening he slipped in, eyes on the alcoves in case of sudden movement. Miklos’s lightstone blazed in though the doorway ruining Nicolai’s nightvision, he squinted angrily but said nothing. Like a moth to a flame Miklos had begun staring at the wall decoration. He left him to it, it kept the mage out of his way at least. He needed to make sure all the alcoves were secure anyway and it would take some time for the mage to finish buy the speed he was going at.
Nicolai flitted over the the first easternmost alcove to see what it contained…
Feldard, much as the Mage had guessed,was impatient to continue on. He’d done a circuit of the room, while the mage looked over the frescos, keeping alert for telltale signs of a secret doorway or such. It was unlikely he’d spot anything the rogue missed given it was mainly wood here, not his preferred stonework.. but he circled the room anyways, listening to the Mage yammer on about this and that.
As he walked about, the dwarf noticed a downward grade to the room as they walked toward the artwork.
Hasan gazed appreciatively at the works around him. As Miklos had said, it conformed with what he had long understood, and—as a contemporary account of this history—Hasan considered it decisive. Reflecting on the relative lack of undead encountered until now in these caverns, Hasan wondered if perhaps this party had gone deeper than any had ever gone into these warrens since the fall of the original necromantic cult. But if so, where were the three young village girls?
“We must move on,” Hasan urged.
Saeth looked up at these frescos, finding them more inspiring than the book of psalms she’d had her nose in for the past couple hallways. “You don’t think we could wait here and look at these a bit longer?” She queried, trying to fix the images in her mind. “Ah, well, beauty is beauty because it is fleeting. Let us be off. Back the way we came then?”