As the dust settled Nicolai scanned the rubble. He nodded at Feldard to check the passageways to the left, and glided over to where the door lay in hallway. The portal was completely choked with rubble piled to the ceiling. Whatever its contents of the room were, they would remain a mystery as it was buried in the ruin of the tower’s collapse.
The priest stalked over to Saeth and checked her over. “No harm done!” he said brushing the remaining rubble from her. The elf said nothing. The others picked an inopportune time to rejoin the group—just in time to witness her courageous return to the lead result in nothing more than a pile of rubble. Was the dwarf baiting her? With his keen knowledge of engineering, perhaps he had noticed the door was unstable and that was why he let her be the one to open it? She mused in silence, hoping that some new development would lead to everyone quickly forgetting this mishap.
Feldard had nodded at the rogue’s silent suggestion and made his way to the intersection to the left. He peered down each passageway for a moment listening carefully.
“You think this place will hold up much longer Feldard?” Maruc asked trying to keep the concern from his voice. He ghosted the Dwarf as he approached the crossed passages.
Miklos scanned the ceiling with visible unease. He waited a good few seconds to see if the roof would collapse. Satisfied, he finally passed the entrance and moved away from the rubble strewn walls.
Hasan stepped carefully down the hall, all the while thinking that the time had come for him be above ground again. Spelunking, he thought, was a business for worms, moles and the occasional dear, deluded dwarf.
Once again at the lead, the dwarf saw down two passageways. He grew ever-anxious to reach the final confrontation with these elven witches. He was unnerved at the prospect of taking on their dark magicks—the sooner they got it over with, the better. He explored a bit into each passage.
The southern passage led straight into a spiral stair leading up. He surmised that it most likely had been the access to the mage’s tower. Now it led to nothing but more rubble.
The passage to his left was more interesting. The long corridor continued for 70 feet, ending at a pair of bronze doors, intricately carved with more woodland designs. Curved alcoves were cut onto either side of the 10-foot wide hall. Still, shadowy figures stood silently in each alcove. At first glance, the dwarf clutched his axe tightly, thinking he was facing an army of gargoyles running at him, but their poses frozen, he thankfully saw that it appeared these were nothing more than statues.
As the light from the human’s torches was cast down the passage, the statues were illuminated with silvery reflections. The dwarf gasped. These statues were made of platinum. They could fetch a king’s ransom in Specularum. He went for a closer look and saw that they were sculpted with breathtakingly detail that rivaled even that of the most skilled dwarven craftsman he had known in Rockhome. Humans, dwarves, elves, halflings—adventurers all. The sculptor had for some reason chose to pose them all in running positions, hands and arms outstretched, with broad smiles covering their faces.