Looking around, Renalt takes a moment to breathe as the pounding of that creature’s shout still echoes in his head. He can feel his heartbeat falling once more, calming the beat of his life back to that of peacetime. The pair of Denlos return from their scouting mission. The more real of the two steps closer. “Doors seem like trouble, but the hallway is clear.”
“Trouble?” Ren asks, “Of what sort, might I ask?”
Denlo looks at his old buddy. “Locks are wrong. Too complex to be interior locks.”
“‘Tis worrisome indeed,” the musician replies then turns to Felazo. “Esteemed captain, have thou gleaned any information from this new alcove to determine this culture’s nature?”
Felazo pokes his head back out from the wall’s opening. “Not in particular. This space seems to be some kind of chamber specially designed to hold that construct in a sort of rest-like state. It is really interesting, though admittedly not particularly helpful.”
Sari looks up at Den. “Something’s off.”
“Agreed. Too advanced.” Den replies with a nod. After a brief pause, he muses, “Delay?”
“Or sole survivor?’ Sari says slowly.
“What are you two talking about?” Sister Hilan asks the pair.
Renalt answers for them. “I do believe our friends more experienced in the complex art of protecting one’s home are discussing the flawed nature of this particular attack.”
Ren can feel the Elfi’ika smirking behind his mask. “Something like that.”
Sari decides to explain it to her old companion. “Essentially, We’re not particularly capable, relative to this place, right?” she begins, “But we beat that pretty quickly.”
“I mean, I would say we are more capable than you think and it was not easy, but I suppose.”
“So, why is that here?” she asks.
Delay or sole survivor, they had brought up. But Renalt sees that there is another option: specific target. Felazo, coming out of his hole, brings this up. “Not exactly,” their captain says. “You’re missing the obvious.”
Sari turns to face the Sea Elf. “Which is?” she presses.
“Two idiots with swords was never the homeowner’s worry. Mages are foolish egotists. Trust me, I’m an expert. I have to assume they were just as foolish, single-minded, and egotistical back before the divergences as we are now.” Felazo explains.
The musician begins to think on Felazo’s belief and realizes something that the other had not yet. By his own admission, the captain is focused on people like him. But there is something deeper at play here. “The construct, ‘twas only to keep the others magical at bay? Or mayhaps ‘twas to keep some other mystical thing away?” Renalt muses aloud.
“What?” Den asks, looking directly at Renalt. The pair know one another, and as much as Renalt likes to talk, Den has figured out by now he rarely says things he does not mean to say.
Renalt shoots him a look as though to say, why are you putting me on the spot like this right now. His concept, his idea on the nature of this, it’s forming for sure, but it isn’t fully ready to be birthed unto the world. But Denlo’s masked stare in response says more than his look. “Very well. To open the doors, to even reveal the door, each divergent aspect of magic had to be cast upon it simultaneously, correct?” the maestro begins his theory. After the briefest pause for effect, he makes sure to continue before anyone can reply. This is his monologue, after all. “And our dearest captain v’Icria did posit that meaning it was designed prior to the divergence, no?” Another pause. “But if thou doest remember thy historical text on the other divergence, ‘twas quite evident something was to happen to all, even those unawares of the intricacy of magical natures. Something terrible. And to those for whom one such styling of magic was a well practiced art, when it did diverge, magic itself did prevent them from accessing that which diverged from their course without study. By assembling these ideas we get a picture clear as day: this box, this structure, it has likely not been used for its intent since that first divergence. If so, perhaps the defense is not in place for a run of the mill intruder. Mayhaps it is for whatever the original owner feared would come as the world was preparing for the unknown, seemingly cataclysmic event of that divergence.” Renalt flourishes with a bow, then adds. “I would have preferred not to share until we know more for certain, but ‘tis my theory at the very least.”
Felazo nods. “Makes some sense, up until your conclusion,” he insists, “I still say it’s just a mage worried about other mages.”
Denlo shakes his head. “Sari, with me. Locks.”
Sari nods. “You take left, I’ll take right. Remember, something off.”
They head down the hallway to pick locks. “So,” Sister Hilan says, approaching the musician, “Are you as concerned about this place as they are?”
Renalt smiles his meaningless smile meant to put people at ease or discomfort as they see fit. “Concerned? Never. ‘Tis a waste of effort and will to be concerned. One must only be.”
Hilan smiles, her own smile seeming to take on some of Ren’s characteristic ambiguity. “That may be the single most ridiculous thing you have ever said.”
“Truly?” Renalt replies, “Then I must try harder. We can’t have people believing me to be serious, after all.”
Hilan chuckles. “Don’t worry, I don’t believe you’re serious,” she says, “I know it.” Renalt looks at her, his smile dropping if only for an instant as he tries to get a read on the woman.
“What are you two lovebirds whispering about?” Felazo asks as he walks up. He puts an arm around each of them.
“Concern. This place is troubling.”
Felazo brushes her off. “Eh, that’s just what houses of powerful mages are like. Bad vibes and weird shit all over the place.” Unlike Renalt’s meaningless gibberish, the wizard is being entirely serious.
Down the hall, there is a small puff of smoke. Four doors down, Denlo is suddenly surrounded by a cloud of some kind. “That’s less than ideal,” Felazo adds as he starts to approach. The other pair follow.
Sari joins them beside the killer. “You good, Den?” she asks.
Den coughs up some light purple dust. “Fine. He looks around, his eyes taking a moment to adjust. “Missed a trap, some kind of poison.”
Ren bends down, and swabs some onto his finger. Felazo does the same into a small vial. “Don’t recognize it,” Renalt says before wiping it off. He feels his armor once again grow warm, just as it had during the fight. No, not quite the same. As though the aid that was given before was taken from this time. As he wipes it off, he begins to see the light glow brighter. Like the world, a world of greys he’s more than comfortable with, begins to increase in contrast. He can barely look at the glowing figure of Sister Hilan. “Never mind,” he says, “It’s not really a poison, per se.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Felazo says, his voice echoing somewhat muffled.
“The powder is a minor contact hallucinogen,” Renalt explains, “In small amounts, it should not be a problem for most. I just happened to be,” he pauses for effect, “Unlucky in this moment.”
Denlo ignores the high musician, turning to Alessari. “Sorry about the commotion. Have any trouble?”
“No. One of the complex locks hid a trap as well. Electric. Scratched out the runes.”
“Just one door left.” He approaches the double doors at the end of the hall. Everyone follows, though after that last door, only Renalt does not keep a distance.
Renalt leans in and whispers. “If you mind not, walk me through your process. Thusly we could determine what you missed last time.”
Denlo nods, understanding. Quietly, so the others don’t hear, he explains. “Traps generally go off at two points in the picking process: applying tension or a specific false set. Depends on the amount of concern.” He looks over the lock and the surrounding door for runes. There aren’t any, nor any visible. “Nothing outside the lock,” he says, “Now I add a little light tension and listen for any springs or gears that are loosening, not flexing or locking up.” He places a sliver of metal in, presses his ear to the lock and barely touches the metal. Me moves his head back. “There’s a trap. Spring loaded. Left of the mechanism, meant for the tension hand.” He pulls out a different looking thin metal piece and slides it around what looks like a bolt or screw. The head moves slightly, revealing itself as false. I hear a plop. Carefully, he removes the metal piece. “I pushed the spring off of what felt like some kind of spike.” Then, he repeats the process, putting his beside the lock and barely touching the metal sliver in the keyway. With a nod, he pulls out his pick, adds more pressure on to the sliver, and gets to work. He stops the commentary entirely as he closes his eyes and just uses the feel of the lock against his tools to guide him. After a moment, the lock turns. He pushes the door open, checks around, then walks back to the others. Renalt follows. “Lock spike,” he tells Sari, as though an excuse for why he took so long.”
She nods. Felazo looks around. “Nine doors, which should we go through first?”
Denlo looks about. “Three trapped doors. Electric rune, not particularly risky to the owner. Nor to a mage. I’d bet on a bedchamber or some vault of monetary and sentimental possessions that lack practical use, like for art or non-magical heirlooms. Vial, more risky. Not damaging, but would make it harder to find things. Study or library, likely. Spike is standard, probably leads to another area. Non-trapped doors likely lead to, in some order, a kitchen, a storage area, an eating area, maybe closets, maybe guest bedrooms, a restroom of some kind, maybe a reading room.”
Felazo smiles, nods, and turns to the second Denlo. “Sha-Denlo,” he says, “Be a dear and walk through all the doors, checking to make sure there aren’t any traps? Start there.” he gestures towards the door that had the hallucinogenic trap. The shadowy copy heads off. Felazo looks at everyone. “You guys can feel free to explore rooms you’re interested in before the shadowy copy gets there, I just want to check out the library and/or study and know he’s better than I am at making sure there aren’t traps.”
Renalt nods and heads towards one of the untrapped doors. The second one on the right. He walks in. It’s dark. He pulls out a torch and lights it. He’s in a small room, more like a closet or coatroom than a sitting room. Most of the clothes remain fairly well intact, preserved by whatever calamity caused this house to fall into the swamp. Scarves, coats, formalwear, and some cabinets that Renalt suspects might contain jewels. As he opens the first drawer, it does, though not particularly precious looking ones. Ren turns and walks back out, holding his torch. As he leaves, he says aloud, “‘Tis a closet, holding the secrets of fashions in a time long gone. The secret being that a number of pieces look to be fashionable even in a modern context.”
The only person still outside is Felazo. “They all ran away like you,” the captain replies to the musician. “How fashionable are we talking?”
“Quite so indeed, if ‘twere the fitting to the looks one was attempting to achieve. Whether or not I wouldst wear any or all of them mineself, ‘tis a different issue altogether.”
“What would the answer there be?” Felazo asks with a grin.
Ren smiles right back. “As is the answer to many things: Some of them, some of the time, quite dependent on the circumstances.”
The shadowy form of the false Denlo walks out from the room. “It’s a study. No traps,” he tells Felazo.
Felazo gives Renalt a small bow. “We’ll look into your clothing room later, but I wish to investigate the study now. Denlo is searching the bedroom and/or vault with Sari, and the good sister went thataway.” he gestures towards one of the doors, then turns and enters the study.
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