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The Mouth of the Sleeper
As the chamber returned to silence Khalin spat out the necrotic dust from his mouth and shook his beard.
The eyes within the floor were no longer moving, but the shattered remains of corpses and skeletons
made the footing treacherous.
‘Everyone alright?’ the dwarf asked, fairly sure of the answer, before kicking aside a whole
rib-cage to retrieve his torch from the doorway to the chamber.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Zero dusted himself off frantically.
‘Ohhhh, that was really awful,’ he gibbered. ‘I really need fresh air.’
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Tradden, also brushing himself down, voiced a certain amount of agreement.
‘That,’ he said, ‘would be nice — although as I recall it’s
fairly cold out.’
‘I…’ he continued as he walked over to the statue and retrieved one of the torches
whilst leaving one where it was, ‘…will settle for a good long rest and a sleep.’
He looked at Khalin, as if imploring him. ‘I’m knackered! Let’s go back up to that dorm
upstairs and get ourselves together before we push on.’
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Khalin patted his friend’s shoulder. ‘We’ll rest, lad, don’t worry, but
aren’t you curious to see what’s been hidden by this elaborate trap?’
With that the warlord cautiously raised his torch towards the western archway and peered inside.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
The alcove slowly came into view as Khalin moved forwards, the torchlight reaching around the walls and
softly illuminating the small room beyond. It only went back a couple of dozen feet but the dwarf had to
move all the way to the entrance to spill the light into the corners.
Black shapes loomed out of the side walls and Khalin drew back for a moment, raising his hammer, until he
realised with relief that the shapes were little more than cloaks, hung up, a little dusty and spotted
with small cobwebs.
The rest of the area appeared to be harmless — a wooden table butted up against the far
wall seemed to be the only other furniture, its top covered with jars and pots arranged neatly and
orderly.
Zero pointed towards one of the glass jars as the group followed Khalin into the room, the rogue’s
stomach growling loudly. ‘Pickled onions!’ he rasped, licking his lips. ‘I’m
starving.’
‘And when aren’t you?’ enquired Tradden as the young fighter went across to inspect the
cloaks. Khalin joined him, feeling the cloaks, and noticing that each of them appeared to be
accompanied by a two-foot long black silk scarf on their peg.
‘I’m not sure that they are…’ Kireth began, before trailing off, as Zero picked
up the jar of onions and tried to determine how the stopper worked. The mage smiled to himself as he
reviewed the contents of the table.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
With the sounds of Zero groaning as he tried to relieve the jar of its stopper in his ears, Kireth began
to methodically catalogue the items upon the table and make some sense of their purpose. He already had
a fair idea — some of the jars were made of a rough stone and calling Beltak over the
half-elf asked the scribe if the contents were dried-out healing salves. Beltak seemed to be nodding in
agreement.
A few of the other jars were more curious, containing blades, many sickle-shaped and ornate. The blades
were small, not meant to be weapons. Perhaps to be more precise, small cuts, on a delicate subject
matter…
There was a shatter of glass from behind the mage and a yelp of disgust from the rogue. Everyone turned
in an instant, weapons drawing by instinct, to be greeted by the sight of several small orbs rolling
across the stone floor from the remnants of the broken glass.
One of the orbs rolled up to Kireth’s foot, its pupil staring up at the mage from within a brilliant
blue iris, well preserved by its former home.
Zero began gagging. ‘I was nearly going to eat one of those!’ he spat, suddering to himself.
‘It probably wouldn’t do you much harm,’ replied the mage calmly. The eye continued to
look up at Kireth, daring him.
The mage’s boot came down and there was a soft squelch. ‘I believe I have enough information
from within here,’ he said as he strode off to the east.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Tradden grinned at Khalin despite the aches and pains that coursed through his body. ‘What do you
make of these cloaks?’ he asked. ‘They don’t look that old to me, a bit dusty and
mouldy, perhaps, but it’s not as though they’re ancient or anything.’
Khalin stroked his beard softly. ‘Aye, lad. They haven’t been touched for a few months, I
guess, but they’re not old. That main door was locked and trapped, too. I’m not sure
anything has been in here for a few months by the look of it.’
‘Except us,’ remarked the young fighter. Khalin looked the lad up and down for a moment.
‘Aye, except us,’ he uttered and turned to follow Kireth to the other side of the chamber.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Kireth held up his staff as he picked his way across the chamber with the stone eyes. Despite the strange
trap now being sprung and lifeless the floor was difficult to navigate quickly. The remains of the bones
and bodies of the former victims only added treachery to each step.
‘Curious,’ uttered the mage as he approached the eastern alcove. His light lit up the room
in stark glory, a similar size to the western alcove, but this one packed with a number of small wooden
desks and nothing else. ‘Writing desks?’ Kireth mused with a raised eyebrow.
The desks were arranged in a couple of rows, a half-dozen of them, well-built and carved with a chair
as part of the structure. Kireth traced the carvings of one of the desks with his
fingers — the quality of the carving was particularly good, the top flat and smooth,
but well worn around the corners as though it had seen much use. Carved into the desk was space for a
number of ink wells as well as other small compartments complete with lids.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
The others slowly filed in after the mage, Tradden with a cloak and scarf in one hand, Zero still with a
grimace on his face and trying to get an imaginary taste out of his mouth.
Beltak smiled a little as he came into the room. ‘Reminds me of home,’ the scribe said,
sitting down at one of the desks. ‘I used to have to spend hours practising at desks just like
these back in Deepingwald. Copying the scriptures. Pelor help you if you made a mistake and ruined a
parchment before you were finished,’ he chuckled wryly.
‘But no scriptures right here,’ offered Kireth, then turned to look at the doors to the
south.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
‘What kind of scribes use quills and ink and body parts?’ Zero muttered, approaching the
doors.
He looked at the statue, its arms aloft, and shook his head before choosing the door to its left. Like
the door to the entrance of the chamber, this too was made of stone and intricately carved with a relief
of the bald humanoid. Claws were not reaching out towards the lock and handle, though, they appeared to
be clutching large coins in each hand.
Zero approved.
Settling at the foot of the door, the rogue placed his ear close to the stone and ushered with an
outstretched hand for the others to be quiet.
[Zero Perception Check: 1d20+12: 32] - critical success!
A stony cold silence greeted Zero.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
With a spring the rogue rose to his feet, pulling out his pack of tools and starting to poke and prod
around the edges of the door and across the lock, humming a familiar tune.
[Zero Perception Check - Find Traps: 1d20+12+2: 20] - success!
The humming continued as Zero went about his work, switching one tool for another, until he selected a
small knife-like instrument and placed it within the lock.
[Zero Thievery Check - Open Locks: 1d20+12+2: 22] - success!
There was a grating click from the door as the rogue stood back. It didn’t open, but Zero looked
pleased with himself. ‘That one will open now,’ he said pointedly, indicating that he might
not be the one that would be opening it.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Before anyone could move, however, the rogue’s arm shot out again to silence them and he moved
around the statue to the other door. The carving upon this one had the same bald humanoid, but this time
with its hands pulling apart and breaking a chain. The carving seemed to be rougher than the one on the
other door, as if made by a lesser skilled hand, or later, or both. Either way it did not appeal to the
rogue as much as the one with the coins.
[Zero Perception Check: 1d20+12: 28] - success!
With an ear to the door for a moment, Zero was satisfied, and fumbled with his tools for a moment before
selecting a long thin rod. With expert hands he began to search for anything amiss with the door.
[Zero Perception Check - Find Traps: 1d20+12+2: 21] - success!
Appearing fairly confident, Zero stepped back for a second, before choosing another of his tools, jamming
it into the lock.
[Zero Thievery Check: 1d20+12+2: 23] - success!
There was another grate from the door and the rogue stepped back a few paces to admire his work. He only
realised then that the others had been deathly silent, watching him work, whilst he had been humming a
tune all along. It almost seemed embarrasing.
‘Both open,‘ he coughed, trying to regain some sense of dignity. ‘I just, er, need to
pack my tools away. I‘m sure someone else could oblige.’ he finished, waving his hand
towards the doors.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Khalin raised an eyebrow at the slightly eccentric performance, but nevertheless thanked the rogue for
his efforts. Turning his head to regard the reliefs on each doorway, the warlord made a decision.
‘This one first I think,’ he declared, nodding towards the door with the coin carvings, and
with Zero’s smile of approval pushed the door carefully open, craghammer at the ready.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
The door swung open silently revealing a small square room within, barely a dozen feet across. A thin
film of dust rose into the air as the draught from the chamber of eyes spilled into the room, swirling
around for a moment before starting to slowly settle once more upon the three large stone chests that
dominated the centre of the room.
The chests appeared to be carved out of the stonework of the floor, but had neither the grace nor the
workmanship of the carvings upon the door. They appeared plain at first, but as Khalin slowly entered
the room he could make out notches in the stonework, as though someone had been using the outside of the
chests to count.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
‘’Ello, what have we here?’ Zero said, in a suddenly cheery tone.
Tapping his toe against the stone floor, he made his way slowly across to the chests.
[Zero Perception Check - Find Traps: 1d20+12+2: 31] - success!
To his relief the rogue did not spot any false floor traps, nor did any spears suddenly project themselves
from the walls.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
As he approached the chests Zero’s hands began to twitch with anticipation. He knelt down next to
the nearest one to the door and lovingly blew the dust away from the crack between the lid and the frame.
‘No lock,’ he mused to himself. ‘Suspicious.’
[Zero Perception Check - Find Traps: 1d20+12+2: 21] - success!
Despite his suspicions there didn’t appear to be any traps lurking within the stone.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
‘I’d stand back if I were you,’ he said to the others, who heeded his call. ‘Just
in case I spot something nasty.‘
‘Just in case I spot something valuable,’ he thought to himself, thinking of the
once-gems that were now just pebbles in his backpack thanks to Kireth’s trickery.
With the others stood slightly back, he moved his portly frame in front of the chest to obscure their
view and heaved open the heavy lid with a grunt.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Even in the dim light — Khalin’s and Tradden’s torchlight throwing his own
shadow over the contents of the chest — Zero could make out the glitter of gold.
He reached in his hand to take hold of one of the coins, and then snapped it back as though something
had bitten him.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Khalin, stepping forward with his craghammer ready.
Zero hissed back at him, waving him away without even looking and reached in to take the coin once more,
lifting it up to the light of Khalin’s torch. The coin’s golden lustre shone in the dim room,
and despite the smooth edges which belied its age the coin seemed fresh and new.
Towards the rogue was the now-familiar insignia of a double-headed eagle, the design reminiscient of
silver coins they had seen before and more unnervingly similar to Zero’s uncle’s signet ring
that Kireth now held.
‘Heads,’ said Zero softly, rubbing the eagle with his thumb. He seemed reluctant to turn the
coin over in his hand, then seemed to make a decision, throwing it over his shoulder towards the group
with a practiced flourish.
‘Tails,’ he called as the coin struck the floor, rolling towards the group and finally
settling at Tradden’s feet.
The young fighter looked down with the others at the coin, his hand reaching out for it and plucking it
from the floor, his face intent with study before he recognised the markings face-up on the coin.
‘A spiral,’ he muttered. ‘Like the necklaces, like the shape of the trees on the map
surrounding the “Mouth of the Sleeper”, like the faux-stars in the dome above.’
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
As Khalin saw Tradden turning the coin in his hands he stepped forward, eyebrows shooting skyward as he
saw the stash of gold before him. The dwarf quickly turned to a second chest and, despite his
excitement, exercised care as he pulled the lid open.
Khalin’s brow furrowed as he regarded a half dozen black purses, silk, and each about the size of a
small buckler shield. The dwarf lifted one from the chest and gently prised it open.
The purse was of exquisite make, lined with sleek fur, also black, and carefully stitched. Pulling apart
a thin drawstring the warlord unearthed its content. Within were a number of pearls, beautifully rounded
and shining with an inner colour. There appeared to be a dozen in total, all of roughly the same size.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Khalin tossed the purse to Zero, who had eagerly turned to see what the second chest revealed, before
looking briefly at some of the others.
The same pearls greeted the dwarf as he peered into each purse — most smaller than in
the first purse, but all arranged in a uniform size for each bag.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
As the rogue deftly thumbed through the tossed purse of pearls with a smile upon his lips, Khalin turned
to the third chest.
The lid swung upwards easily and at first Khalin thought the chest was empty. However, as he peered over
the edge he saw two further black silk purses at the bottom. The pair were larger than the second chest,
perhaps the size of a larger buckler, and heavier in weight than the others.
Picking one up he drew back the string and took a look at the contents inside. He drew out a long chain
of gold, somewhat like a necklace but did not appear to be particularly ornamental. The torus links of
the chain were a little too dull and a little too uniform to be described as a thing of beauty.
He pulled out another chain, and another. Some were connected in a circle as the
first — though connected via a torus link, not through any clasp or
ribbon — others appeared broken, different lengths and just in a straight line.
The second purse had a dozen more of the chains in a similar state.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
‘Ooo,’ remarked Zero as he looked up at the chains, forgetting all about the pearls in his
hand. ‘Is it heavy?’
Khalin blinked at the rogue. ‘A little, yes,’ he replied, not having thought that much about
it.
Zero moved up alongside the dwarf, taking the end of one chain and biting it. ‘Solid gold, I
bet,’ he winked at Khalin. ‘I’ll, erm, check them properly if you like,’ he
continued, holding out his hand for the purses.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
‘It would appear our efforts have brought some reward,’ Khalin declared finally, with a
smile. But his brow quickly furrowed once more as he considered the other doorway, whose appearance
suggested less grand contents.
‘We should check the other door,’ he declared, putting a hand on Zero’s shoulder as the
rogue examined the gold chains.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Leaving the room and rounding the statue, the dwarf paused before the other door, frowing at the carving
of the bald humanoid breaking the chain. The work was rough and not as skilled as the first, much as
the penultimate panel in the dome above.
After a couple of strokes of his beard in thought, he hefted his craghammer, adjusted his hold on his
torch behind the safety of his shield, and slowly pushed the door open.
The flickering light revealed another small chamber, similar in size to its neighbour, but this one
appeared much more cramped, the walls lines with shelves upon which were stacked reams of parchment,
neatly laid out and bound.
Before Khalin could move the torch further into the room, Kireth grabbed his arm, holding the flame
back.
‘A clumsy move could destroy everything in there,’ he hissed.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Khalin peered a moment more at the rows of paper from the entrance. ‘This looks like more your
area,’ he acknowledged to Kireth as he stepped back to let the mage through.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Kireth paused at the doorway for a moment, examining the room with his keen eyes. ‘Shirak!’
he murmured softly and a soft glow rose from the end of his staff, illuminating the chamber with enough
light to see, but not too much to damage any ancient parchment.
Shelves had been hastily erected within the chamber and not too long ago, judging by the haphazard
heights and the angles they were fastened to the walls. A sweeping cloud of dust had begun to rise, motes
captured in the wizard’s witchlight swaying across the room.
‘I do not think there has been anybody in here for a number of months,’ Kireth explained
calmly. ‘Much like the area you are all stood in.’ He moved towards one of the shelves.
‘Intriguing,’ he continued, more to himself than the others.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
There were literally thousands of parchments stacked upon the shelves. Many were stacked as quires, two
dozen sheets tied together with a coarse black ribbon. Others were in larger reams held together by a
wrap of black cotton.
The parchments did not seem to be ordered in any way, quires and reams intermingling on the shelves, so
Kireth approached the closest of the bundles, softly tugging at the ribbon to loose its contents. Pulling
back the top sheet to look at the contents he frowned, before looking at the next page, and then the
next in quick succession.
He drew one of the parchments out and turned back towards the door, thrusting the paper under Zero’s
nose. ‘Your favourite story,’ Kireth intoned. ‘It looks as though
they — whoever ‘they’ are — were industriously writing
libelles for some purpose.’
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Zero took the parchment from Kireth’s bony grasp and saw the all too familiar stanza that made him
shudder every time.
‘“Light must be snuffed, perfection decayed, order dissolved, and minds
fragmented.”’ he croaked out loud. ‘But there’s more… “The very
threads of existence must be torn asunder, then burned, then the ashes scattered, until all is nothing
and no one exists to remember existence.”’
The rogue took a gulp of air.
‘And then there’s some smaller writing. “Channel power to the Chained God, so he can
break his chains. Retrieve lost relics and shrines to the Chained God. Pursue the obliteration of the
world, in anticipation of the Chained God’s liberation.” And then there’s one of those
spirals at the bottom. Joy.’
He looked back at Kireth with a distraught face. ‘And they are all the same?’ he enquired.
‘It appears to be so,’ replied the mage.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
‘So,’ Zero said, ‘just to clarify: these weirdos are trying to liberate a chained up
god who will then obliterate the world? Just a suggestion, but why don’t we pass this information
on to someone a bit more experienced in thwarting angry gods because I don’t know about the rest
of you, but I don’t think I measure up.’
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
‘Sure you are, Z!’ said Tradden, ducking under the doorway. ‘We’ve done it before
and we will do it again!’
Had he not known better, Zero could have sworn the chirpy enthusiasm was faked.
Tradden continued, a studious look on his face as he held his torch up and around the room to complement
Kireth’s mage light. Kireth’s eyes moved upwards in ratty disbelief — the
room was basically one big tinder box when all said and done.
‘Here’s the thing…’ started Tradden, before the mage could even muster a barbed
comment about fricasseed fighters, ‘this happy little note is clearly the product of a twisted
mind, fine. What gets me is, why copy it ten thousand times? What’s the point? These guys seem
less of the types to try get their way with an aggressive leaflet campaign. They are more of the
“smack you in the face and crush your skull with their weird black tendril” types. What
gives, Big K?’
This was directed at the mage. The room went silent, waiting for “The Big K” to comment.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
‘“Smack you in the face and crush your skull” is likely all well and good when dealing
with insurgents such as we, but if your plans are a little more global than that, then you need to get
populations on side.’ It was one of those rare times that Kireth seemed to be speaking with some
sincerity, perhaps speaking from experience. ‘We have all surely come across this type of control
in some form, if you cannot be loved then you rule with lies; with fear; or,‘ waving his hand at
the room of parchments, ‘with indoctrination. Probably all three.’
He paced the room, pausing to casually push Tradden’s torch ever so slightly away from the nearest
parchment it was singeing. ‘If we are to take what we have learnt quite literally, and I‘ll
be honest, I am not seeing another way right now, then we, whether we think we are capable or not,’
he nodded at Zero, ‘have no choice but to push forward with this.’
The scrawny neck of the mage seemed to take down a long dry gulp. ‘I’m beginning to think you
may be right, Zero, this could well be world changing.’ He paused, the room seemed to suffer an
eternal silence. ‘Well, that, or we all run away, eh, Khalin?’ he flashed with a more
familiar Kireth sneer.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Khalin’s face displayed the merest of smiles before becoming enigmatic once more. The dwarf shrugged
off the insult — he would no doubt have to deal with many more like it before he could
clear his clan’s name.
‘Deeds speak louder than words,’ the dwarf replied, refusing to rise to the mage’s barb.
‘And we have an opportunity to make a difference here. We should finish exploring this place, then
move on. The Talons will be expecting us.’
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
The warlord turned back towards the main chamber and the corridor to the north. ‘We’ve put off
those “blade bridges” yonder,’ he gestured with his warhammer to the corridor in front
of him. ‘But now it is time.’
‘Grab what you can, Zero,’ he said to the rogue, nodding towards the small annexe containing
the gold chains and pearls, ‘and let us move on.’
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Zero quickly darted into the room bearing the relief of the humanoid holding a coin and plucked what he
could from the stone chests within. Deciding on a single purse of pearls, and a bag of the strange gold
links, he stuffed them into his backpack and then joined the others in the room with the stone eyes.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Khalin led the way out of the chamber, carefully stepping over the rounded stone eyes on the floor. The
others plodded on behind wearily, Tradden with a long lingering look behind him at the place that might
have served as a place to rest.
It only took a few moments to wander up the corridor and bear right towards the bridges, where Khalin
paused to review the scene.
Their torches once again lit up the cavernous area as best they could, fading into flickering shadows in
the alcoves and drops below. The turnstile in the centre of the pit seemed to be in the same position
as before which reassured the dwarf, the blades still stuck in their positions. From the alcoves, just
about visible at the fringes of the torchlight, the statues still stood motionless.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
‘Well,’ said Kireth, clapping his hands together, ‘this is certainly a scenario for our
nimblest to investigate first. What say you, Tradden? Zero? Everything looks simple… except in
the pit‘ he finished with a creepy smile.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Khalin studied the sinister-looking bridges, scratching his beard thoughtfully, before turning to the
others. ‘Much as I hate to agree with an elf,’ he began, deciding that one good barb did
perhaps deserve another after all, ‘Kireth has a point. What do you think, Tradden? You’re
certainly the most agile of us.’
He then turned to Zero. ‘Is it safe do you think?’
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
‘I am not an elf!’ snapped Kireth, with no hint of a smile this time.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
‘Hmm, I suppose so…’ said Tradden, stepping forward to the edge of the pit, where the
end of the nearest “blade” jutted out as an inviting aerial pathway. Drawing his shortsword
to balance against the torch still held out in his other hand, he peered forwards. It looked solid
enough, and it was within easy reach…
[Tradden Acrobatics Check: 1d20+12: 24] - success!
Indeed, a quick, graceful hop was all that was needed to get onto the blade. As he had hoped, the blade
was strong, albeit flexible — it wobbled up and down slowly as he strode across to the
centre column.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Tradden was not Zero, but he knew a little about the things to look out for, and cast a quick glance over
the area.
[Tradden Perception Check: 1d20+6: 12] - success!
There was nothing particularly unusual — no trip wires, pressure plates or even levers
up top and whilst the bottom of the pit was clearly about thirty feet down, there was no sense of
movement that would suggest water, or perhaps lots of writhing, poisonous snakes. The
“turnstile” in the middle was curious — essentially just a stone pillar
with iron bars set in it. He gave one bar a tentative nudge with his sword hand, using his knuckles to
push gently forward. It was a solid build, and it took a fair push and a few seconds, but then there was
a faint jolt of movement as the turnstile moved fractionally, and the three blades moved a tiny bit in
unison.
‘Nice…’ muttered Tradden, pushing harder so that the blades lined up a bit better to
allow the others a slightly better path into the middle, and also for one of the other blades so line up
towards the south platform. It took some effort, but with no exterior pressures it wasn’t too hard
for the strong fighter.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Not waiting for the others to reach the middle, Tradden skipped over the now south-pointing blade and
arrived on the southern section.
The two statues were easier to study now, but no new knowledge jumped out at him. They were still both of
what seemed to be the same humanoid, still with arms raised to the sky and eyeless faces staring upwards.
The door they flanked also had the strange humanoid on it, this time in a bas relief although he was
just stood there, with no pose of any particular kind.
Tradden was brave, but not stupid. He looked back nervously at the blades, and then also at the statues.
‘I am so not touching anything.’
He pointed his shortsword back at his companions, motioning towards Zero in particular.
‘This is your area of expertise, Z, as I recall,’ he added cheerfully, mockingly bowing
towards the rogue.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Zero made his way over to the door. Tradden stepped aside with a flourish.
‘Now then,’ the rogue murmured, appraising the ominous portal and reaching up to it.
‘This could be a — ’
[Zero Perception Check - Find Traps: 1d20+12+2: 15] - critical failure!
There was an unpleasant “thunk” sound.
‘Ow! Bugger!’ Zero cursed, immediately sucking his knuckles.
‘Was that a trap?’ Tradden jibed.
‘Fhut up,’ Zero scowled. Then he called over to the others. ‘Seems okay.’
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
‘I’ll go next and you can bring in the rear,’ Kireth said to Khalin as he moved to join
Tradden and Zero. ‘Should make for an easier escape for you should you feel the need.’
With that, the mage strode onto the blade with confidence and wound his way to the turnstile at the
centre. With barely a look behind he continued his journey until he was stood near the pair by the stone
door, and regarded the statues with disdain.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
Khalin rolled his eyes once more at Kireth’s latest insult, once again resolving to ignore the
grumpy “elf”. Taking a good careful look at the path before him, lest the blade not support
his stocky build, he gingerly made his way across to join the others.
The warlord paused at Zero’s side. ‘Is it safe?’ he asked, nodding at the door.
He was met with a muffled grumble from the rogue, who was sucking his fingers from some small injury,
which the dwarf assumed was a positive sign. Nodding to himself, he put the flat of his hand against the
stone surface and pushed the door open.
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The Mouth of the Sleeper
‘Wait!’ came the muffled cry form Beltak, who had made it to the turnstile at the centre of
the western blade bridge.
But it was too late.
There was a grumbling click as the door swung open, as something in the hinge seemed to give way. With a
clatter behind them the double doors to the north also grated open and similar sounds from the other
blade bridge echoed around the chamber. As the echoes died down there was a brief spell of silence,
allowing the group to spot a dusty stone sarchophagus in the small chamber beyond the door.
Before they could move, however, a tremendous clatter of distant chains and a thudding boom from somewhere
below shook dust from the ceiling. Behind them, the blades began to turn of their own accord, drawing a
yelp from Beltak. Within the crypt in front of the others, the sarcophagus exploded as something rose
into the open air!