Called to the Desert Region

[Izvilvin]

Both of the warrior's deadly blades rose to defend against the attack, the clang of metal on metal ricocheting along the rumbling tunnel.

It was a reflex, and not a positive one for the situation Izvilvin was in, for the creature had two limbs in addition to these. With his arms reaching up to meet the upper pair, two slashes came in below, horizontally, a coordinated strike violent enough to sever his upper body from the lower half.

Izvilvin dove back, just out of range, the tips of those ancient scimitars cleaving through the fabric of the shirt dangling over his breastplate. Gracefully, he landed on his toes and drove back in, crouching below an overhead slash and bringing Mjolnir behind it to stab at the guardian's armpit - the second left arm slapped the weapon harmlessly aside and away.

He moved with the momentum of the deflection, spinning right and forcing his opponent to follow his movement. Both right arms slashed at him, as expected with Izvilvin's back becoming exposed, but the nimble elf was too quick, diving forward in a roll as the swords swung just overhead. He was up in a flash, Icicle prodding with stabs from his left that were easily kept at bay.

But now he had completed their movement, so that he was facing back toward Alydia's location; albeit with a sizable multi-limbed beast and an unsettling amount of crumbling ceiling blocking much of the view.

It turned out not to matter, as when he first glanced in the direction of his dear friend, she was no longer there. He didn't have time to panic, he knew, throwing his blades in a furious dance to fend off the many attacks which steadily came forward - and mercifully, he heard Alydia's voice beyond him. Of course, he realized, for it did not always occur to him what she was capable of, particularly when he was so occupied.

She presented a difficult puzzle. The dancer was only his height and did not appear to be much heavier, but Izvilvin couldn't hope to tackle it off to the side, not with so many deadly hands whirling about - to throw his weight into it to try and move the creature was opening himself up far too much.

His arms dashed about at alarming speed, seeming to blur back and forth in desperate waves, but each of the warrior's movements was a calculated and precise parry - Icicle deftly deflecting a swipe just too far to the left, Mjolnir dipping under an approaching blade to direct it just too far to the right, Icicle back across to slap another strike down and away, stealing its momentum, all of this in the span of seconds.

He knew that he did not have much time. Alydia would be near soon, and to have her within range of this foe was not something Izvilvin wanted to allow. However there was no possibility for counterattack, as the heavy iron blades came from every possible angle, just quickly enough to lock the drow in his defensive position. To pull away meant luring it back toward her, and pushing forward was not an option.

The thought broke his concentration, and Izvilvin paid for it. Icicle had knocked a strike high in the air and then driven down to swipe the lower arm's blow aside, but lost track of the initial blade - it drove down in a slash, ripping a gash in his left shoulder just beyond the reach of his delyn breastplate. He didn't drop Icicle, didn't react, for he could not: on the right, Mjolnir slapped up and down in defensive parries that could not afford to slow.

Can I make it angry? he wondered, for it was a suitable tactic against living creatures. Izvilvin didn't know if this guardian was alive or not, and didn't know how to frustrate it, if it was.

A strange metallic being helped, then, clocking into the side of the dancer's stone mask thrice in rapid succession, taking it by surprise. Alydia's mysterious ally.

Izvilvin didn't take the opportunity for granted.

Mjolnir roared and cast the darkness away, slashing down into the creature's bottom-left bicep, cutting through the bone - not clean through, but more than midway and far enough to invalidate the limb. At the same time, his iron will ignoring the damage to his left shoulder, Izvilvin brought Icicle across the masked head, tearing the facade from the dancer's face and casting it aside. The stone sculpture landed on the floor behind the warrior drow, its eyes still fiery with magical light, but with a deep and iced-over gash across it.

And in the place of the mask was a blank slate, an empty canvas of skin now that the costume had been removed.

Izvilvin was still moving, pivoting back with his hips and throwing his right leg forward, every ounce of strength behind the kick. His foot slammed into the chest of the dancer, taking it off of its feet and throwing it back a few steps - hopefully far enough to keep Alydia safe.

And if the relentless monster was not capable of anger, in the end, what it displayed now was close enough. It bent low with three arms pointing their swords forward, and Izvilvin charged ahead.

[Alydia Ettermire]

If you trust someone, trust them. That had been Karliik’s first rule, one he’d enforced from almost Alydia’s first memory. If you trust someone, don’t check over your shoulder to make sure they’re doing their job; trust that they are until proven otherwise. During the entire time Alydia was solving the middle puzzle, she hadn’t looked back, hadn’t broken concentration, no matter how furious or close the six swords sang against each other.

She trusted Izvilvin to do his part. She didn’t know if he was looking to make sure she was solving the puzzles or not, but he wasn’t breaking for it and running, so at least he trusted her that much. Either way, she hadn’t solved this one quite in time; the ceiling had been nearly ready to cave anyway, under the immense pressure of the desert above and some faulty structural engineering. With every second, the ceiling crack widened and lengthened, more sand and plaster crumbled to the floor. It hadn’t meant that she’d failed, but…

She’d failed.

When she finally looked at the magnificent fighter and his valiant fight against the dancer, he was turning the fight to his inevitable victory. But the scent of blood filled the air, the ceiling was almost gone, and the longer Izvilvin fought, brilliant as he was at his chosen craft, the narrower their chances of survival became.

The two clashed again, sending sparks flying as the golem or undead launched a blistering attack and the dark elf wove a tight defense. When they separated a few seconds later, Alydia made her move. Uuthli returned to her hand and vanished, and a barrier of darkness appeared between Izvilvin and his opponent. Three sharp strikes shook it, but didn’t shatter it, and the thief jumped for her friend, wrapping her arms around him from behind and pulling him with her into shadow. She wanted to cover as much of him as she could, so she was very nearly riding on his back.

The darkness stretched on seemingly forever in the between space where Alydia traveled. There was no light for the two elves to see by, no heat to give texture to their world. It felt like heat, like their blood would boil and their skin would blister where they were. It also felt like cold, prickling the flesh and chilling the marrow. It was airless and claustrophobic, like they were being squeezed together through a space that would only readily fit a small child.

Worst of all, there were things moving in the darkness. Shapeless, void-born touches of malice grasped for them, only to recoil from Alydia and from the ribbon on Izvilvin’s arm, but they still reached for his face, his legs, anywhere that Alydia wasn’t covering and protecting him.

They landed neatly at the end of the hall, just in time to see the center give on the guardian. They hadn’t even been in the darkness for a second. Another narrow hall spread in front of them, hundreds of feet long. It opened into a chamber, and despite Izvilvin’s tense muscles beneath her, Alydia took them into the dark once more.

When they emerged again, an instant later, they were in a small room that would have glittered with gold if they had any sort of light. It was here Alydia hoped to find a manuscript on how to cleanse the Crystal or defeat the god-king’s curse. If not…

But her first priority had to be her friend, whose face was tight and cold. A gentle hand found his arm. “I know that’s a rough jump the first few times. Are you all right?” Bandages, disinfectant, and a kit for stitches found their way into Aly’s hands. “Let me take a moment to tend your wounds.”

[Izvilvin]

His shoulder throbbed, stung as if on fire. Izvilvin barreled onward, possessed, the pressing need to occupy the sword dancer swallowing away any pain.

Those three blades, the remaining arsenal of the unrelenting creature, swerved from right to left, up to down, with fury and precision that showed exactly how little it's near-severed limb disturbed it. Icicle had left more than a dozen chunks of frost on the weapons, a tribute to Izvilvin's defense, but now that arm was slowing. He used his left to parry the monster's attacks from the right, but his smooth transitions across between the icy blade and Mjolnir halted. The responsibility of defending against the dancer's right side, still intact, fell on his injured arm.

In a situation like this, Izvilvin craved to have Icicle leave a blinding trail of mist in its wake, to defend himself and create a moment to regroup - but what use would it have against a creature with no face, no eyes?

So he fought furiously. With Mjolnir he blocked and diverted, the hot sword of lightning darting across to his left to defend when needed. When a deflection left the creature's side particularly open, he stabbed forth to burn a wound into its side while Icicle continued its harried defense. Undeterred by the attack, the dancer moved to continue its assault.

Blackness divided them then, a stranger dark within the unlit tunnel. Izvilvin brought his blades in front of him, defensive, held around his head and neck - three sharp raps came, but he was untouched.

Alydia took him from behind and pushed him forward, and then Izvilvin knew darkness.

He'd never experienced the dark before, not like this. The Alerian elf's eyes were especially keen even among his people, turning traditional darkness into shades of grey that helped him discern objects, depth, certain shades. Now he was in a world where vision did not exist, where he was more blind than when his eyes were closed - at least then, there could be a sense of illumination.

There were too many feelings at one time, too many horrible sensations, no sense of bearing or existence. He had no weight, no center of gravity, and his flesh tingled with sensations both worldly and not. The majority of his body was grabbed at, but he didn't experience the touch. Rather, it felt like digits were passing through him, into his body, prodding for something that was not Izvilvin but the essence of.

He wanted to drop down when they reappeared, his eyes wide, his mind only vaguely aware of Alydia clinging to him like a cloak. Her desire and determination to protect him utterly lost on Izvilvin, they were once again sucked into the void.

When they came back to the world once more, the warrior dropped to his knees, his hands releasing their grip on Icicle and Mjolnir. He felt as if his body should be across the room, like he was out of sync with himself, and it was everything he could do to avoid vomiting. As someone who was uncomfortable with the occasional fireball evocation, Izvilvin had gone to a place that revolted him, that he never wished to experience again.

He became aware of a gentle pressure on his arm, and looked down to see Alydia's hand rested on him. It took a moment, but he came back, became present once more.

"This is the world you experience each time you use the shadows?" he asked, and he looked to her with more than a little concern. "You experience what I just felt, every time? If at all possible, I must respect you more for it."

Absentmindedly, Izvilvin reached to his left shoulder with his right hand and tore at his shirt, ripping the sleeve off from the point where the dancer's blade had cut into him. He rolled the remaining fabric up against the strap of his breastplate, giving Alydia room to work.

"Respect and fear, perhaps," he continued, and smiled.

[Alydia Ettermire]

Alydia removed her gloves, sterilized her hands, and started cleaning Izvilvin's wound. It was well known that he was invulnerable to disease and poison, which was good, because the ancient swords likely would have given him a nasty case of tetanus if not. Even so, it had to hurt, and the antiseptic and subsequent stitches would not immediately alleviate that pain. For him to bear it with hardly a grunt of pain was impressive to the delicate rogue; her friend was very strong, indeed.

"The Path of Shadow is a..." Alydia blew a breath from the side of her mouth, trying to think of a way to explain what she experienced. "It's an ability that passes parent to child. My research didn't turn much up on how my bloodline acquired this ability, but apparently we've had it since before the Great Split. Even though we don't have sight there, the Reachers have color sense. Some ancestor of mine found that they hate the color of fresh blood. That's why I wear this very unstealthy coat and hat, and why I tied the ribbon to your arm."

She looked up from the seeping gash to give Izvilvin a thin smile. "I've been going back and forth since I was a baby, first carried by the man who sired me, but on my own since I was a small girl. I'm as accustomed to that vicious darkness as a person can be, but it still scares me, because one thoughtless jump, or one jump without the red too many, too long, too unlucky... And you never come out. Trust me, it's not a risk I took lightly with you. The Dark is no place for the living, and those who can walk it tend to die young. I'm impressed with you, though. Most people spend a few minutes throwing up after their first jump."

Her nimble hands soon had his wound neatly sealed, and she clipped the thread and wiped away the blood. With a last, reassuring pat on Izvilvin's shoulder, Alydia stood, slowly scanning the entire chamber. It wasn't large, maybe five paces by six, and the entire thing was crammed with neatly arranged treasure that stretched wall to wall, floor to ceiling. Statuettes made of various precious metals and stones stood guard over bejewelled plates and chalices. Tomes and tablets flanked jewelry that dripped with precious stones. Reassuringly, no towering, armed statues guarded this treasure chamber, but it wasn't really the important one.

"The bounty due a king as he finally ascends to godhood. But the farmers at the bottom of his kingdom's economy wouldn't have been able to afford the least of these treasures, even if they saved every bit of money they earned in their lives. Sad, don't you think?"

Braziers stood in each corner of the room, filled with oil centuries before in preparation for the day they'd be lit once again. With any luck, it would still be flammable. A small lighter came to Alydia's hand, forgotten in the moments she could have used the light due to both urgency and disuse. A flick of the switch, a step up, a careful turn of the wrist, flickering light flooded the small chamber, glimmering off the priceless treasures.

"We're looking for a very specific text. I believe it will be on one of the tablets." She frowned a little, drawing her eyebrows together beneath her hat brim. How could she tell Izvilvin what she was looking for in a way that he would understand and be able to help her? "If the first symbol looks like a small school of fish swimming together, and the second one looks like an upside down bowl, it might be the instructions on how to purify the crystal and destroy the king's power."

Her eyes traveled over the texts. How many of these could she take back to Irrakam to give to Zaki? So much lost knowledge, found... Down to her soul, she itched to read them all, if only to know what they said, if only to see a world that was gone long before her own birth.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin shut his eyes and winced as Alydia began her work - his shoulder was already burning, but the agent she used seemed to multiply it. He put himself into a calm space, relaxed his mind and his body as much as possible.

Alydia began to speak. Izvilvin focused on her voice, on her presence, finding comfort there while she explained the terrible place they'd traveled through.

The two had grown to trust one another, to be sure. Their bond was forged and tempered through adventure, but it hadn't started smoothly. Izvilvin's distrust and misguided ideals had caused his now-friend to become a killer's target, and they'd banded together to make things right: they hunted Shynt Aubrey, the murderer, until he was finally done away with. Shortly after, Alydia helped Izvilvin eradicate the vicious Step from his life for good. He could never repay her for that, he knew, no matter how many times he accompanied her and did his best to help with her goals. The freedom from paranoia was impossible to put a price on. He'd never communicated these feelings to her, didn't quite know how, but he wanted to believe that she understood the depth of his appreciation.

Now that she'd explained this blackened world that she traveled through, the plane she'd traversed during their assault on the Step headquarters, he was humbled. Izvilvin had spent a good, long part of his life feeling sorry for himself and feeling oppressed, but Alydia's experience differed. He wanted to understand her feelings when crossing the black as a child, wanted to empathize, but found that his ability to do so was limited.

Yet here she was, tending to him. Patiently mending his wound, patiently explaining her experience with the fathomless gloom. Saying she was impressed with him! Explaining her concern for him! Izvilvin opened his eyes and watched her as she stood up, seeing her a little differently all of a sudden.

He, too, climbed to his feet, his shoulder tied shut. He bent and retrieved his blades, sliding them back into their scabbards as Alydia explained the nature of the chamber. He wanted to address what she'd said, but couldn't find the words to do so. He internalized all of it and realized, sadly, that the moment had passed.

Then the firelight brought depth. Izvilvin's eyes shifted away from darkvision and quickly adjusted, bringing color into his world once more.

The nearest side of the room had a table stacked with parchments. Izvilvin moved to them and began flipping through, tossing those which didn't match Alydia's description into a neat pile by his right foot. Symbols were things he understood, but there was a myriad of them. He sifted through three score in short time before moving over to a nearby pile of tablets. He was more careful with these, laying the checked ones on a small portion of the table not already occupied.

A moment later he found something. A tablet of grey with multiple images; the first a group of lines parallel to one another, the second a semicircle with both ends pointed downward. He looked over them for a moment before calling over, "Alydia, come examine this!"

[Alydia Ettermire]

While Izvilvin tackled the largest collection of literature, Alydia went to the other side of the small treasure chamber to look at more isolated texts. In truth, she wanted to be the one where he was, looking at ancient beaten-reed scrolls and sifting through the large stack of tablets, but she had to admit that he was the better elf for the job. If she had all that raw knowledge under her fingertips, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from reading further than just a couple of symbols. Since her literacy was limited, she'd made for one slow sorter. Her friend barely spoke Trade, didn't read ancient Fallienese, and had just two specific hieratic glyphs to look for; he'd be very efficient. That did nothing to subdue the wistful pang of jealousy that twisted in her gut.

She picked up the text closest to the back left wall, ignoring the golden scarab earrings and lapis lazuli necklace around it.

Sun, Sands, Winds, and all gods thereof, these are the sins I, Son-of-the-Sky, have not committed. The denial of wrongdoing was definitely interesting, but not what she was looking for. Reluctantly, she left the tablet behind.

The next text likewise disqualified itself in the first line. With unguents for his skin, incense for his chamber, honey for his lips... That had to be instructions to the concubines buried with the dead king. Had this kingdom buried them alive with him, slain them to bury with him, or were the little dancing statuettes that graced every table stand-ins for the real thing? She knew that all major Fallinese civilizations from the time period had practiced each method of sending servants to the afterlife with their king at one point or another, but she couldn't remember which precise method they'd been using in this kingdom at this time.

To make bread fit for his most high...

Great is the ship that sails the sky...

A hundred hounds he shall have for the hunt...

On and on they went, lists, prayers, tallies, supplications, and exultations, all on behalf of a long-dead tyrant. Alydia stood motionless for a few moments, fingers tracing the lines on the tablet in front of her - a map of the complex, unless she'd translated something very badly. The king's name had been erased in the grand audience chamber, every mention of it, so that it was absolutely illegible. She'd come across a dozen mentions of it just in this one room. Everything from the worker's chambers back had been pristine, and that wasn't all because of the sands claiming the entire palace. The place should have been ransacked, guardians or not.

A hint of unease sent a shiver down her spine. They must have laid one hell of a curse on this place...

Izvilvin's voice cut through her musings, and she turned to see what he was looking at, handing over the map and explaining it briefly. After a couple of minutes reading over the tablet he had found, she started translating.

"'May it be known to all who seek to steal the Power of the Throne, the sun shines brightly upon the Son-of-the-Sky.' Then there's a very long string of curses, some of which include 'may his guardians rise up to protect his rest' and 'may no good rain fall should his stronghold be attacked.' As far as the crystal... damn. 'The gift of his mother, Who-Shines-As-Glass, shall forever be found to the soul of the king. All who oppose him shall crumble as dust.'"

Alydia let out a frustrated sigh. "There is no purifying that crystal. Only destroying it and weakening him. All this way and the artifact is not only corrupted beyond use, but it's dangerous."

[Izvilvin]

As she stepped forward, Alydia handed over a tablet. Cold to the touch and heavy, Izvilvin began to trace its surface with his eyes and fingers. He didn't have his bearings, considering their abrupt arrival into the chamber, and so he moved toward the door to the room and peered out. He could make out few landmarks, but could see where they had come from and began to paint a mental picture from there. He didn't get far before his dark elf companion spoke.

Alydia's words fell on ears that could hardly comprehend. Like so many of the etchings within this underground tomb, the text spoke in riddles and jargon, bringing him to a place of unease and uncertainty. Izvilvin's dear companion worked the gears in her mind, a familiar look plastered on her face as she digested the words and sought a solution. Izvilvin knew that she would find one, as she always did, and that they would be on their way to purifying the crystal and returning to the fiery surface of the desert.

The final result was startling. Alydia's declaration upset him - not because of the results of her examination, but because of the look of disappointment on her face.

A moment passed. Izvilvin let the reality set in, mentally rummaged through the words of the tablet and seeking a solution Alydia had somehow overlooked. His eyes looked past her shoulder, gazing absentmindedly toward the wall of the room. There was a stack of tablets placed delicately in a row, the ones she'd been looking at - he could see a distinctive lack of dust on them, but noted how delicately they were replaced: with care and respect.

"But," he began, selecting the words carefully. "The guardians rose and were cut down. Several were unable to halt our progress toward the end goal, though their number was greater than ours."

Bolstered, he continued. "No good rain, the collapsing earth which nearly buried us altogether, but did not? Or the rain from the skies, the clouds banished, though the people of Irrakam still prosper among the sand?"

He stood straight and with as much confidence as he could muster, attempting to persuade his ally not to lose hope. "Nor have we crumbled into dust, as declared. These platitudes should not dissuade us or break away our hope, we have already done more than the texts claimed possible!"

"We have defeated curses and driven deeply towards the heart of this compound. Who is to say that the crystal cannot be cleansed?"

He looked back to the map, considering. Pushing Alydia into going deeper into the keep would put her at greater risk, but also brought her closer to her goal. Was he misguided? Was his desire to accomplish their mission stronger than his reasoning? He anguished over the question for but a split-second, determined to press onward.

"If destroying the crystal weakens the dead king," he thought, "does destroying the king strengthen the crystal? He gleans power from it, after all."

[Alydia Ettermire]

Alydia smiled at Izvilvin's attempts to encourage her, but the gesture didn't touch her eyes. He didn't know anything about this culture other than everything that had unfolded before him, things he could see and touch. He knew his own strength, he knew the horrors and hardships he had survived. He had faith in the edges of his blades, the swiftness of his feet, and the skill of his arms. He had faith in her intellect and problem-solving skills. Without any reference to just how much danger faced them as they delved deeper and deeper in the ancient tomb, he could only base his confidence on the things he knew.

Then again, she could only base her uncertainty on the things that she'd read. She knew that many, if not most, of all the ancient curses were exaggerated, both in their own documents and in the re-tellings across centuries. She wasn't entirely certain of her own translations of the script, either; nearly a quarter of the symbols proved indecipherable to her, and for another quarter she'd just had to make as educated a guess as possible to their meanings.

"I don't know the answers to many of your questions, my friend. There's so little information on either culture we're dealing with, their magic, artifacts, and syntax... You could very well be right. Perhaps there's more information on how to treat the crystal, and maybe we'll be able to do so after defeating the king. Or maybe someone else will be able to, if we can only remove it from this place. Either way, we've awakened the tomb. He knows we're here, and he'll be expecting us. If he's not dealt with and escapes, he'll turn his sights to Irrakam, which was part of his kingdom during his lifetime."

The thief looked down at the tablet that dealt with the crystal, then back at the warrior. "There are four people in Fallien whom I care about. Three of them are in Irrakam, and one of them is close enough to touch. There are people in Fallien you care about, though I know not the number. Let the sands swallow the rest, but for those few, there's no turning back."

She tilted her hat back and closed the distance between them with a single step, sliding a gloved hand over his to help support the tablet as she turned it and started pointing out routes. "We're here, in the Lesser Treasure Chamber. If you'll notice, most of the objects here are for the use of women - concubines, priestesses, or both. I'm not seeing a dedicated room for the burial of attendants, which I'm hoping is a good thing. We came along this route from the Audience Chamber, but there's no way we could go back because we regrettably collapsed the ceiling. However..."

Alydia shifted her weight a little bit, returning her free hand to the Lesser Treasure Chamber, tapping absently while she studied the map further. "The king's tomb is in this tiny room over here, which is actually... I'd say fifty feet below us and a hundred feet...hmm... north, of where we're standing now. Considering his ego, we won't find him in there. We'll probably find him here, in the Great Treasure Chamber, which is this room. To get there, we'll need to go through the Hall of Judgment, where we'll pass at least a dozen guardian statues and any undead attendants he may have remaining. The statues are each as tall as we'd be if I stood on your shoulders, they're fast, and they're relentless. If we come up against priestesses, we'll be facing magic users and we're probably dead. Regardless of what's there, I can deal with the statues. Before that, there's the Walk of Supplication, out that door, right there." She pointed to the treasure room's other door, a small exit on the far right wall. "That's... I will try to disable it, because otherwise we'll be trying to crawl before it fills with either caustic or poisonous gas. Alone, I'd just jump it, but I don't think that's the option you'd prefer."

She tilted her head and frowned a little, considering if there was anything she'd missed. "Right. The Great Treasure Chamber is pretty much directly below the Audience Chamber. If we need to get to the crystal while we're facing the king, I'll be able to open up the ceiling and take us through. Whatever happens, we can't let him leave the compound. Which means I really hope the wards his successor put up are holding. Did you see the rubies on the columns? Those aren't original to the building; they're a very complicated, very powerful barrier system. I'm concerned that they don't appear to have magic left in them anymore, and I'm hoping they'll activate on their own or they're just active against the reanimated dead, because I have no idea what the incantations or rituals are to recharge them."

Aly took a deep breath; that had been a long explanation, and she wasn't sure how much was useful to Izvilvin. Whatever he felt he needed to know, he'd remember. "Do you have any questions, or are you ready to move on?"

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin shook his head throughout Alydia's response, wanting to believe that his hypothesis was right. The king and the crystal were tied so closely together - how could one's destruction weakening the other not go both ways? The logic made perfect sense in his head, but Alydia was right - it was too little to go on, and acting on an assumption could put many people in danger if things didn't go their way. They had to play it as safely as possible within the trapped, guarded, undead-king-inhabited tomb.

A breath later, they were inspecting the map. Alydia started to explain, to paint a picture of what lay ahead of them on the way to their destination. She was considerate, speaking slowly, letting Izvilvin visualize and contextualize their location. He was never one to lay out a detailed plan in his head - even in his days within Step, when missteps led to strong repercussions - but having a general understanding of his surroundings let the drow embrace his instincts a little more. She did much to put him at ease, into a place where he understood where they needed to go, what obstacles lay ahead, and what options there were if they got overwhelmed.

His silence continued after she finished, his eyes thoughtful and his mind going over each point one by one. There was a lot to take in, and a misunderstanding could put either one of them at risk.

Finally, he looked to her and nodded. "We are ready."

"But," he continued. "You are right, I do not want to... jump again. No matter the situation, I do not want to go through that dark place."

He exhaled and their eyes met. Izvilvin hoped that Alydia understood his appreciation for her help, hoped that she didn't think she had done the wrong thing. She'd protected them both and brought them closer to their goal, but despite what he believed was a stoic demeanor, Izvilvin still felt the chill of the place in his bones. He remembered keenly the feel of darkness and dread, and had determined that nothing was worth being penetrated by the void once more.

His decision put them in a difficult situation, he knew - Alydia had described a number of situations that would be trivial without his reluctance. He managed a smile and moved past her, leaving the room and stepping into the hall through the doorway she'd indicated.

They were back in a familiar setting, a similar hall to those they'd passed through before. It wasn't any more dilapidated than those previous, but it contrasted strongly against the muted elegance of the Lesser Treasure Chamber. Izvilvin moved with more confidence now, knowing their route, his feet barely kicking up dust from the long-abandoned stone floor. His shoulder ached but burned less, no doubt a boon from Alydia's skilled cleaning, but he knew that the defensive Icicle would be held in his right hand instead of his left, if the need arose.

Nothing stalled them from reaching the entryway to what was certainly the Walk of Supplication. The tunnel narrowed and the path ahead shrunk; the roof of the tunnel suddenly plummeted down and presented a five-by-five foot pathway toward a goal Izvilvin could not see. The heat of their bodies alone was enough to give him a comfortable impression of their current surroundings, but he could not visualize the exit of the path.

They paused there for a time and searched for a switch, a valve, a trigger, or a hidden mechanism that would disable the trap ahead. Izvilvin's fingers dug into he grooves around the stones making up the floor, finding nothing. His keen eyes pierced the darkness and searched for a sign of significance, finding nothing. It could have been located on the other side of the walk, or perhaps did not exist at all.

Izvilvin thought back to Alydia's explanations, the need to prevent the likely-resurrected king from escaping this place, and slipped his mask over his mouth once more. With a mixture of confidence and negligence, the drow ducked down and into the passageway ahead, his leading foot immediately pressing down on a pressure plate. A telling hiss emanated from the walls ahead, echoing in the limited space.

He peered back just briefly to glance at Alydia once more. He gave her what he felt could be a reassuring nod, and stepped into the tunnel.

[Alydia Ettermire]

"Watch for th-!" Her warning came too late.

Alydia had assumed that Izvilvin was aware of the pressure plate; it had also been a big part of the last serious trap, and the edge of it stood out clearly to her. She just hadn't yet found the panel to disable it when her friend decided they'd searched enough and just stepped out to activate the burningly toxic gas. On instinct, she stepped in after him, reaching for his shoulder, but he was already well beyond her grasp when pain seared up her nose and into her lungs, driving her back.

The thief coughed a couple of times, watching the hissing gas curl and coil in an ever thicker cloud around Izvilvin. Her eyes stung and watered. However strong he was, how long could he hold up against this sort of assault? And if she couldn't see through it, how would she know where it was safe to land? She couldn't risk letting the cloud stay for either of their sakes.

Alydia took as deep a breath as she could, then stepped forward once more, extending her hands. Darkness rippled out from her palms, spreading to engulf and devour the noxious trap. It hunted its target down vents and into reaction chambers, stopping the flow of gas into the corridor, sucking it instead into the nameless black. It should have also touched skeletons remaining from ancient days, but other than the rapidly dissipating cloud and a lone Alerian warrior, the path was pristine. Either it had never been violated (Aly's preferred theory) or any creature that had failed to pass safely had been...dealt with, in one way or another.

She could hear Izvilvin tense briefly when the shadows passed him, but she didn't touch him with them. By the time the fighter had reached the end of the Walk of Supplication, Alydia had stolen every drop of the poison. Either she'd use it in a fight or she'd release it somewhere harmless at a later time, but at least it was contained - for now.

With Izvilvin safely on the other side of the hall, Alydia stepped into the shadows, reappearing at his side. She knelt, face buried in her elbow to muffle a few remaining coughs, tears still running into her sleeve. She couldn't see the room they'd entered yet, but Izvilvin's sharp breath told her there were bodies in the Hall of Judgment, not just statues. Priestess-consorts; likely they still had some powers after death.

Vision blurred, Aly looked up to see what they were facing. Six biers, twelve statues, each a dozen feet tall. Their granite bodies - distinctively human - rippled with muscle, but their heads took the form of dogs, falcons, or crocodiles. Each of them glared forward in silent challenge to any who would dare violate their god-king's domain. So long as she could get her feet back under her before they were noticed, she could handle most of the threats this room offered. All was still so far; they hadn't activated any of the guardians.

After a minute, Alydia stood back up and nodded to Izvilvin, then stepped forward, walking carefully in the exact center of the path. Her hopes were that they could pass quietly enough through to avoid activating any of the statues or priestesses; they'd wreaked so much destruction already that she really wanted to leave something intact.

A deep, resonating, hollow groan shattered that hope like glass as the first statue activated. The sound of nails on stone said that the women had also awakened, answering the king they'd been killed for and responding to the violation of his temple with indignation.

Alydia turned to Izvilvin, coat rustling slightly. "Whatever you do, don't get hit."

Then she was off, still hurting from her brush with the gas, but forced to put it aside. She had statues that sadly wouldn't give her enough time to simply deactivate them.