"If you ever go charging out like that with the brains of a mindless idiot again, I'd rather save my Cure Wounds for the undead than waste it on you." Shadowheart glared at Ethemon's back, which had split open and started bleeding all over again during the recent fight. Sneering, she conjured a bluish-green light in her palm and slammed it hard against his wound.
"Ow! Ouch, ouch, ouch!" The heavy blow nearly sent Ethemon bouncing straight into the air, but Shadowheart was quick enough to shove him back down by the shoulders. "Sit still and don't move!"
He pouted miserably, forced to watch the others loot the corpses while trying to muffle their giggles.
There had been quite a number of bandits lying in wait behind the door to ambush them, but their combat skills were nowhere near a match for Ethemon and Lae'zel. A few rounds later, the fight was over. What they hadn't expected, however, was that the cornered bandits would try to drag someone down with them. The very last bandit had hurled a torch straight into an oil barrel tucked away in the corner. Ethemon hadn't managed to dodge in time and was blown clear across the room by the explosion. That made him the sole casualty among the five of them, earning him a fierce scolding from Shadowheart.
Restricted to one spot, Ethemon could only watch as his companions rummaged around, occasionally murmuring in wonder.
"Whose shrine is this supposed to be? Usually, worshipped deities are enshrined in prominent spots, but I've looked all over and found nothing." Shadowheart wiped a layer of dust off a plaque, though the characters were so badly worn they didn't resemble any known script. They were completely unreadable—even Gale, with all his extensive reading, couldn't identify the language.
"No prayers, no offerings. It looks like a forgotten deity," Gale said thoughtfully, casting a critical eye over a wall bracket that should have been quite elaborate, though now only its base remained.
"Languages like this vanished from Faerûn ages ago, which means this place must be ancient. I doubt anyone remembers the deity here anymore," chimed in Ethemon, who could never stay still for long.
"Shut up." Shadowheart shot him a glare.
Ethemon: (＞_＜)
"Oh, strict Miss Cleric~" Astarion patted the dust off his clothes after searching the adjoining study with little success, and handed a few dusty books to Ethemon. "It seems you've really ticked her off. You'd better sit here and be a good little reader for the rest of our outing~"
The tone, reminiscent of someone humoring a child, made Ethemon roll his eyes. But the lingering pain in his back was still fresh, and to keep Shadowheart from actually blowing a fuse, he obediently stayed put.
He flipped through the books Astarion had brought. They were terribly worn, some pages chewed by bugs, the ink faded and blotchy, allowing him to piece together only fragments of meaning.
[Remember, if your defenses are sound, your home is a fortress.]
[If you hear a knock at the door by night... unless... do not let them in.]
[They walk into the night's darkness, with pale faces and blood-stained lips.]
What on earth was this? Ethemon stared in confusion, put the nameless book down, and picked up another.
[She devoted her entire being to the Goddess of Loss... A cleric of the Goddess of Loss, no matter her worth, remains unclaimed. And so this is yet another lesson to be learned: not merely forgotten, but ultimately erased.]
Ethemon: ......Never mind. Why was he even trying to make sense of the library inside a temple of loss? God only knew how outdated this junk was. He wasn't reading it anymore.
He tossed the book aside and twiddled his thumbs until Astarion let out a surprised cry.
"Everyone! I've found the entrance mechanism!"
Passing through a corridor and opening the door revealed a T-shaped crypt. There were doors on both the left and right, with the main burial chamber lying straight ahead.
In the center of the spacious vault, a finely relief-carved sarcophagus lay quietly. Four massive pillars supported the corners of the room, and four smaller burial caskets were neatly arranged around the perimeter. The wall recesses held decorative vases that had long since lost their luster in the dim tomb.
Ethemon tried to join the search party, only to be ruthlessly turned away. He could only grumble as he poked around in the moss and weeds, and to his surprise, he actually fished out a hardbound book half-hidden in a corner. Its previous owner must have cherished it; a thick protective casing had kept the pages from rotting.
*On Death and Resurrection*
It had the solemn ring of an academic study, detailing how a heretic had been cast out of her original church for her devotion to the lost deity and her records of hidden knowledge. Yet she had persisted, relentlessly questioning the very nature of life.
What is the value of a life? Truly, a philosophical question...
"Nobody move!"
Startled out of his wits, Ethemon dropped the book and hurried around the perimeter of the tomb. Astarion, facing outward, barked an instant warning: "Don't come in! The floor is covered in traps!"
Ethemon froze. He noticed a sheen of slick liquid spreading across the floor, the pungent reek of oil pricking his nose. He spoke urgently, "We can't wait. The oil is still seeping out. If we don't get out of here right now, it's going to blow."
"That's precisely why we can't move," Astarion said helplessly. "Any one of us could be standing on the trigger."
The journey up to this point had been so smooth that the ruined temple had lulled them into thinking its protective measures were all dead, not to mention Gale had scouted ahead and found no magical wards. Who could have expected an ancient trap like this—one that still worked, no matter how old it was?
"Can't I cast Haste on everyone, and can't we just sprint out and slam the door shut? There isn't that much oil yet, surely we have time?" Shadowheart suggested.
"I could probably just jump clear," Lae'zel estimated, measuring the distance between herself and the door.
"Best not to. Heaven knows how big of an explosion this security system triggers—are we talking just this tomb, or the whole bloody temple?" Astarion wore a humorless smile. "The safest bet is to disarm the trap while we make a run for it."
"So, can you disarm it?" Gale cast a protective spell on himself first, then renewed wards on the others before asking.
"Not to brag," Astarion forced a smile, "I'm quite good at it. I just don't have the tools."
"You mean these?" Ethemon, who had been listening from outside the threshold, reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a small cloth bundle. "Shall I toss them to you?"
"Where did you even get those?" Shadowheart asked, puzzled.
"Lifted them off that band of thugs earlier. Just tucked them in my pocket out of habit." Ethemon gave an underhand toss, throwing the toolkit straight to Astarion.
"Ooh, I'm starting to like this little scavenger habit of yours." Astarion plucked the bundle out of the air and was just about to look for the trap's trigger mechanisms when Ethemon spoke up.
"Actually, Lae'zel and Astarion, neither of you should be standing on a trigger."
At the others' bewildered looks, Ethemon tried to retrace his memory. "I think I might have explored a crypt styled just like this before. The older the tomb, the more symmetrical the layout. Those stone carvings on the walls should be the fire jets; if you trace that line straight across, it intersects right where Gale and Shadowheart are standing. If you just skirt the middle, you should be fine."
"Ethemon, that's just a guess. We can't risk—dammit, what are you doing?!" Astarion looked ready to turn green as Lae'zel took a massive leap out of the tomb, nearly losing control of his own limbs out of an impulse to bolt after her.
Yet the anticipated wall of fire never materialized. Lae'zel hadn't triggered a thing.
"You reckless creature! Can't you let someone finish a sentence?!" Shadowheart's expression was grim. Though Gale said nothing, Ethemon caught him drawing a long, slow breath.
"Looks like you gave them a fright."
"Hmph." Lae'zel shrugged, entirely unbothered.
"Right, Astarion. You see? I wasn't wrong. Besides, if you're good at disarming things, check the main sarcophagus. Tombs like this always have a master control valve. Usually right on the main coffin."
"So glad you remembered I'm here," Astarion muttered. Keeping his lower body rigidly still, he deployed his impressive flexibility into an awkward crouch and began groping along the sarcophagus. Within moments, he found the master control Ethemon had mentioned. Mainting that uncomfortable pose, he set to work on the trap. "Though I'd still rather stay paranoid."
Ethemon raised an eyebrow and kept quiet.
With a sharp *clack*, several small components dropped free. Ethemon could distinctly hear a grinding mechanical groan echo from deep within the walls before it finally fell silent.
Seeing Ethemon wave him over, Shadowheart hesitated for a second, took one step, then two, and walked straight out of the vault.
The trap was disarmed.
Gale breathed a sigh of relief and followed her out, leaving only Astarion still frozen in his stooped posture.
"Astarion?" Ethemon called out, puzzled.
"Hold on," Astarion's voice dropped an octave, sounding slightly distorted in the hollow tomb. He reached out as if grabbing hold of something, then pivoted sharply on his heel, his calves coiling with sudden power. As he bolted forward at a run, a glowing object was yanked right out of the sarcophagus along with him. "Shut the door!!"
A gust of wind carrying a faint perfume rushed past, punctuated by Astarion's shrill command. Ethemon instinctively obeyed, throwing his weight against the heavy doors until they slammed shut with a thunderous *bang*, showering the floor in loose gravel.
Ethemon looked at Astarion, who was grinning happily with a look of smug triumph, and asked curiously, "What on earth did you grab from in there?"
"The key to unlock the door on the other side." Astarion dangled a copper key from his fingertips and pointed across the room.
"You actually dared to touch what was inside?" Shadowheart smoothed down her robes, a slight frown on her face.
"Oh, darling, don't act like an old nun," Astarion said, slipping into his habitual endearment. "Weren't you curious? Such an ancient tomb of a lost deity—what treasures might be hiding in there?"
Catching Ethemon's look of keen interest, Astarion smiled knowingly. "We've already passed the trial and earned the key. Shouldn't we go claim our reward?"
"Fair enough." Ethemon took the key Astarion handed over, his eyes sparkling as he looked around at the others. "So, deeper in we go?"
Lae'zel had no objections, and Gale looked equally curious about the temple's secrets. With a resigned sigh, Shadowheart accepted her fate and cast a blessing over them all.