The party entered a pungent room lit only by what resembled a glowing well in its center. The pale, faint blue glow reflected off of what they realized were corpses surrounding it. They looked to be a mixture of Elven soldiers, orcs, goblins, cultists, and nondescript humanoids. They could hear the water constantly swirling within.
Despite it’s stable whirlpool, the floor remained wet. They noticed a pair of wet trails that led to the each doorway surrounding except for the left before returning to the well. It even seemed splashed onto those doors and surrounding walls.
Kraiven approached the door to the left. The carvings on the door portrayed a small army of Elves battling a towering dark shadow of a creature. Some werelatched onto it with ropes while others fired upon it with their bows. Beyond them, in what looked to be the skies, were two giant snakes. The tail of each snake pointed at the lock.
He was able to tell the door was not actually locked due to its give. A slight turn of the handle would allow entrance, but he sensed there was more to it than that. The lock’s design also seemed curious as its placement on the double door would ensure little protection to a brute force attempt to enter. His tools worked the lock smoothly and – while no latch seemed to finally set – something about the lock then felt “right”.
Godric neared the whirlpool. To him, it resembled a portal. One others must have stepped into in order to drag water nearby. He stepped in bravely.
He quickly felt the sharp pain in his legs as it began to suck him in mercilessly. He grabbed hold of the stone lining before Johann Van Der Pol created a doorway beneath him to fall into. Soaked, but thankfully alive, he appeared behind them on the room’s floor.
Following Kraiven, they revealed a narrow hall nearly a hundred feet long that spanned to their left and right. It was lined with statues of Elven warriors, some of which had real helms and masks upon their heads. A curtained doorway stood at the hall’s end.
Separating the deep red curtains led into a small, dead-end area. Before them stood a shrine at about shoulder-height. It’s soft white looked of ivory with gold trimmings and portrayed two armored angelic forms holding blades towards the heavens. They surmised it to represent the vigilance of the Elves deity, Corelon. This specific idol was a praying place for followers to regain strength and possibly reassess what they have learned from a battle. Some chose to pray and found new flexibility in their abilities.
Some then decided that the items placed on the statues were a waste to leave sitting. They took to different masks and helms before the entire structure began to quake. From the whirlpool emerged two large Naga, bent on protecting their home. They proved much weaker than the entirety of the party. They were left as cold, dead, and wet as sushi.
They continued to the Northern door that was pierced with holes from Artanis’s horns. His attempt to open it with his strength proved effective at loosing it to allow entry, but alerted whatever stood behind it. Pitch black inside, the party opened the door slightly to fire projectiles within. Inhuman, gurgling pain screamed from behind as bodies hit the ground.
The noises finally stopped and the door was then opened fully.