Angela followed her fiance into the cave carefully since she couldn’t really tell if Draj was serious or not. She was awed at the site of the cave right behind Draj. It was awe inspiring, even though she heard what he had said about the pools. ”Okay Draj, I will try to be careful,” Angela said, with a hint of caution to her voice. She sighed in relief to be out of the fog. She walked into the cave behind him.
She can tell her fiance was more cautious than normal because him looking for something while walking forward. ”Hmm… I am grateful we are out of the fog,” Angela thought to herself, with her eyes forward and looking around similarly.
Unless said hoarder was away on other matters of business or vacation. The reassurance that most of his troupe had tasted the ambiance past the entrance and breathed words, tipped the scales in favor of a greater reward over a meager risk. The foretold couple already hazarded the mentioned bubbling lochs and meres within the large cavity that jutted just beneath reality’s surface. Lairs assumed masters, and its breadth suggested a menacing immensity from the safe vantage of the hugging fog. Peril was taunting Bah’im, chancing danger and jeopardy before the flock his very eyes had kidnapped, as one by one, his fellow travelers were herded into that burping warren.
Curiosity maimed more and killed less.
Such prying led to Faustian pacts to sate the thirst of the unknown, where old seasoned men are willing to shed an eye and drink from the poisoned well of Mímisbrunnr. Discretion rationed the sanity of the trickster’s psyche from the nagging inquisitiveness of novelty’s cupid, uncovering murderous intent which oft married to the loving embrace of a Fatima. Becoming a pillar of salt or even opening a box of Pandoran plagues cemented the legendary folly of these endeavors, warning others of the pitfalls. Yet, prompted by an Evanesstra and Band, the dragonborn and its Angela desired to unleash the Anselmos and Vatheks of this unnecessarily fretful world, with little resources to compensate the maze hosting curios which required further investigation.
Soon, his outstretched arm became riddled with a verdant and inky mass, with fangs and a rattle opposed as the reptilian coil writhed the extremity of the marching wood elf.
“Stand back, everyone.” He mentioned mostly to the agricultural knights of childhood nightmares, as he waved his hissing familiar back and forth, approaching the entrance to the earthen fissure. “This snake can possess your soul… Ack!”
With that, the serpent locked gazes with the bladesinger, issuing a stiff march into the cave. Once inside, Marcus’ former star-crossed lover would scout the effervescing premises through the blindsight of his slithering companion, Mammon.
But first, he wanted to send a boisterous message.
So…
The one-eyed bandit stared. At all of the farmers. And whispered.
“Go home, before it’s too late.”
Bah’im will summon his Familiar and wrapped around his arm. With Performance of 8 (Passive Performance of 14) and Deception of 22 (Expertise), he will act as If he is being possessed, attempting to simultaneously surprise them from the fog.
He will end by whispering aloud via Minor Illusion in a demonic voice, originating between all of them, the last statement.
Afterwards, he plans to send his snake ahead, 100 feet, before peering through its senses.
The blackened opening pulled closer into view with deepening clarity as the fog dissipated less and less light between it and the approaching gnome. Unnatural carvings into the crag's face gave way to dark yet common tunnel systems which snaked away from view. In particular, the gently bubbling pools of near-brackish ooze caught her eye.
Reaching back to the leather bag strapped to her shoulders and pawing it open, a single torch floated from the container to be grasped out of the air and ignited. With light serving her vision, she stepped closer to the gently broiling substance. The loud one with sapphire scales arrived to warn her of the liquid even as a small portion lifted slowly to her face. The sample grew still aside from the mild sloshing caused by its mystical confines, floating to Evanesstra's close inspection. "Acid," she said matter-of-factly, "Specifically an emission from a draconic creature, it seems." The shamanistic woman gave a pointed glance to the Dragonborn.
The Humours did not stir.
Her gaze turned dismissively away as the invisible cup carefully drained its caustic contents into the slowly sinking puddle from which it game. "Even a party of black Dragonborn violently vomiting such an acid could not have created this structure. This was a singular blast." She stepped closer to the edge of the cave mouth, fingertips just grazing at the sundered stone. She searched for any sign that this cave could've been dug from a magical blast, or simply the breath of an obsidian drake.
An impish sound uttered itself into the world, interrupting her observations. She looked back toward the source of the sound, which seemed to simply be the empty air between this group of interlopers and herself. Turning again, her eyes laid upon the Elf making a dramatic scene of entering the cave. "Unless you intend to truly have your will broken, I might suggest the same," her firm words prickled at the back of Bah'im's mind, gracing the ears of none other than him. A telltale stare was directed at him, making it plain the the breach in his mind was her responsibility.
Then there was the other, who offered assistance in the uncovering of these caves. Or, rather, seemed to request the assistance from her in the same quest. This seemed to be a strange circumstance to Evanesstra. "And what brings you lot here, anyway, if not to pillage the townsfolk as seems to be customary with you rogues?" she questioned unenthusiastically as she turned back to examine the wall. Meanwhile, the group she so unceremoniously turned away from still reeled from the admonished Elf's act of self-possession.
Several floating things due to several uses of Mystic Hand. Successful Nature check of 15 on the acid. Successful Investigation check of 15 on the Minor Illusion, barely uncovering the masterful and playful deception for what it was. Use of Telepathy to send Bah'im a personal message of retaliation.
The old man didn't have much to add, and the illusion only seemed to make him more annoyed and distrustful of the group. However, the villagers didn't follow into the tunnels, choosing to remain outside, no doubt to chastise any other adventurers who came along, if any.
Inside, however, the group had to deal with the same fog as outside. It was easier to see through, but the smell was fetid and, to be most accurate to the scent, one could describe it as "swamp gassy." The ground softened as the group descended, to the point it was just sticky muck, and various fungi grew on the walls as the only company for some ways in, before the path forked in two. At this point, however, without another source of light, only those with darkvision are able to see.
Traveling down the left path for several minutes, the group found a large cavern, and those able to see in the dark see the rubble of all the broken stalagmites and stalactites pushed to the sides of the cavern. The middle of the room has a pool of some liquid that could easily be the source of the swamp gas scent.
