The door shuts with a click. Lush deep red carpet cushions the sound of the party's awkwardly shuffling feet as they step cautiously down the corridor, certain they have stepped into another world. Maroon drapes cover the purple wallpaper, broken by gold-framed pictures of lustful acts, that all bashfully turn away from. The sweetness of incense hangs heavily about them, almost tangible, as if it seeks to lure any who scent it deeper and the gentle chatter of joy and indulgence is audible.
Tyrvaan pulls the curtain back and freezes. Zipz pulls her ears down, and sinks back into her hood, blushing even with her complexion. Charles and Zylnan both cough awkwardly, unsure where to place their eyes and Misxibis lets out a soft 'oh' of surprise. Heri's face remains unreadable, though his eyes dart to the curvaceous female Haregon wearing very little.
Men and women of many races languish across satin pillows, frivolously drinking wine and laughing while wearing almost nothing. Soft melodious music sturms from static instruments in the corner, and to the side in an adjacent room, lie a few extremely lush beds, some with amorous occupants.
Half a dozen of those assembled turn to look at the newcomers and it's clear all here were chosen for their incredible beauty and uniqueness. The female haregon, of impossible proportions, detaches from a group and struts towards the adventurers, stopping before Heri to stroke his face.
"Oh my, look at those ears. So... virile," she purrs. He takes a step back and his ears begin to twitch as he chokes in an attempt to get words out. Feeling his knees go weak he turns to Tyrvaan, a beacon of strength and decency, hoping his fortitude of character will help him find his strength.
Tyrvaan's eyes all but bulge from their sockets, his mouth hanging open as he stares towards a scantily dressed white Dragonborn at the centre of the room. With each movement across the stage, her scales glitter with rainbow hues, and her tail swings wildly as she mounts the pole at the stage's centre. A small amount of drool lands on the floor before him and he trudges forward, his eyes not leaving the woman as he mechanically approaches and mounts the stage.
Zipz steps into the crowded room and vanishes amongst the moving bodies, scurrying awkwardly towards the shirtless goblin man and his impressive muscles, only to stop and stare just out of vocal range. Charles turns to Misxibis and Zylnan, meeting their eyes for a moment, a modicum of shame visible within.
"We've worked so hard, fought so much, we just need to rest, just a little. We deserve this," he says, then shrugs and walks towards a table in the opposite direction where a beautiful human, elf, and genasi woman share a drink. Misxibis turns to Heri and Zylnan and tuts.
"This is odd. I think this is not vise."
"No, let's see if there is an exit... then get the others," Zylnan says, pushing forward through the half-naked bodies, holding his hands up, determined to avoid any awkward misunderstandings. A wave of greetings and introductions assail him as he crosses the room, and he struggles to find a clear path through. Misxibis and Heri do likewise but try to carve their own paths as they survey the large room.
Misxibis stops before a red-skinned tiefling, clad in high leather boots and a bodice.
"Hey, there, you must have seen me from across the room," she purrs, fluttering her eyelashes. "What's your name?"
"I saw you. My name not important. How we leave?" Misxibis asks tartly, peering around her to try and find an exit.
"Oh, you want to leave, huh? Well, you need to give pleasure to us all."
"That seems lot of work. There are lot of you." Misxibis answers looking around.
"Oh, it's easier than it seems."
"Vhat you enjoy? I mean... vhat you like that, involve keeping clothes on?" Misxibis stammers looking the tiefling up and down before finding her eyes awkwardly, again. "I can sing good song or recite good poetry?" The tiefling pouts.
"I've never really thought about it before?" She steps towards Misxibis. "What would you like to do to me?"
"I sing you song," Misxibis says, clearing her throat and pulling her lute from her back, before taking another step back.
Zipz giggles as the shirtless goblin rises from his satin cushion, grabs a spare glass from a magical floating tray, and offers it to her. A female goblin, with red hair and a shapely form stepped up beside him.
"Hi, little lady. What you doing here?" he squeaks, in an oddly pitched voice. "Would you like a drink?"
"Uhh, no I don't drink," Zipz stammers, "it makes people do stupid things." She begins to fan herself with her hand in an effort to expel the rising heat in her face.
"Well, what do you like to do? There are all kinds of things you can do in this room."
"I can juggle!" Zipz yells awkwardly.
"Ahh, I've never seen a juggler, but it is entertaining!"
"I... I'm good at dispatching my enemies without anyone seeing!" The goblin nods, smoldering with his perfectly chiseled features.
"Oh, that's sexy," he growls and Zips' face turns a deep vermillion.
Tyrvaan groans as the Dragonborn caresses his face with the gentle click of her talons, trailing over the battle-worn scars.
"My, you're a big one," she whispers and Tyrvaan's ears perk up. He sucks in a breath of air and steam begins to trail from his nostrils.
Charles giggles, downing another glass of wine, and slams it onto the table as he loops one of his arms around the genasi and another around the human women.
"Let me tell you about how I solved one of history's greatest mysteries," he slurs as the woman's eyes gleam with interest and the elf standing opposite him licks her lips seductively.
"So there I was, alone in the desert, surrounded by ten... no twenty sand-wraiths," he begins, grabbing another glass of red wine and spilling a little on the carpet.
"This... admittedly beautiful, tiefling said they need pleasure. So maybe ve entertain them to pass," Misxibis shouts, though only Zylnan and Heri acknowledge her. She begins to pluck gently at the strings and the tune melds with the sounds of the room. She whispers a soft melody, sung often around the warm fires of desert caravans. Misxibis meets the eyes of the tiefling woman and they seem aglow with excitement as the song comes to an end and she bites her lip.
"That pleasurable? Ve go now?"
"Very pleasurable," she shivers. "But it was missing something, it needs more."
"How about small goblin, juggle knives?" She nods and her eyes appear hungry for more.
"Ve need bigger show, you look for exit vile I play," Misxibis whispers to Zylnan, who approached along with Heri. They nod in ascent and Misxibis jumps onto the edge of the stage and begins to strum her lute loudly over the sound of gentle music. All eyes in the room turn to her for a moment as they measures the worth of her song. "Stop being sexy and watch me! Zips come here!" She shouts, striding past the dancing Tyrvaan, and hoists Zips by the ear onto the stage. She waves her other hand as magical sparks and lights spring up around them and begins to strum wildly.
Zips sinks back into her hood but pulls out her juggling knife and takes a deep breath as she tosses the first knife into the air. The familiar rhythm of Misxibis' lute eases Zips' discomfort and her hands methodically begin to pluck and twirl daggers high into the air. The performance is met with a chorus of undulating moans from those within the room and Zips and Misxibis share an awkward glance.
Like a silver stream of clarity washing clear their minds, Misxibis and Zips feel the befuddling mist clear, and within a door unlocks. The intensity of the room fades and the two of them peer around, their senses fully under control.
"Thank you, Missy," Zipz chirps from deep within her hood and takes a deep breath. Misxibis turns to Zylnan and Heri and smiles.
"Vere back, ve can go."
"I... I don't think we can yet, something else is at play here," Zylnan answers, peering around.
"I veel better. I can leave. Zipz, you feel you can leave?"
"Yeah, I feel much better! Thank you, Missy!" The two move towards the door at the back of the room.
"Don't... don't leave me with the dancing dragon," Zylnan pleads, his eyes wide. Zipz peers around the legs of the beautiful residents and bites her lip in thought, before hopping up onto the stage and kicking Tyrvaan in the leg.
"Argh, my shin!" he growls, peering down at Zipz.
"Come on! We're leaving!"
"Zylnan, you still not feel better?" Misxibis asks
"No, the music in my head, and the incense is...," he grunts as he struggles to articulate his thoughts through the intoxication.
"You want play my lute?"
"I've never played it. I don't think it would amount to anything."
"It's easy! Just copy Missy," Zipz shouts, hopping down from the stage.
"She say they vant pleasure, ve bring pleasure with performance. Perhaps you must do your own magic performance?"
Zylnan takes a deep breath and blows a green flame from his mouth, one that winds down and coats the sword in his hand. He takes another breath, leaps onto the stage, and begins to spin the sword, faster and faster in whirls of green fire, ending with a trail of fire carving a picture through the air.
Drinks are thrown as the residents of the room display their satisfaction and red wine and spirits coat Zylnan as well as those nearby. Several of the room's residents begin to lick the spirits from the other's skin and their scant clothes become transparent as the liquid soaks in. Zylnan coughs as his mind clears and a mental block dissipates, revealing the exit.
"Now, I see what you mean, but how do we help the others?" He says as Tyrvaan spins around a rather shaky pole on the stage.
"Convince him to breathe fire. Maybe impress people is enough?" Misxibis shouts and Zylnan nods at the suggestion turning on the stage and slipping up to Tyrvaan, keeping his eyes from those around him. He leans over and whispers beside the dragon's head.
"Oh wow, you speak draconic!" the white female dragon exclaims excitedly and reaches her talons out towards his face.
"Are you, sort of a dragon too?" she purrs seductively. Jealousy flares in Tyrvaan's eyes, and he pushes Zylnan back, tilts his head back, and with a thunderous roar unleashes a torrent of explosive flame upwards, filling the room with heat and light. The spectacle is met with a chorus of cheers and moans, and the white dragon falls to the stage groaning in ecstasy.
Tyrvaan's head clears and he glances around as if seeing the room for the first time. He eyes the space cautiously and his eyes flash with radiant light as he calls upon his patron's divine senses. Clear sweet air fills his nostrils as he takes a deep breath and he nods, as the clarity of this test's celestial purpose fills his mind.
Heri sees his companions break free of the enchantment and desperate to free himself leaps to the top of the stage and grabs the pole, hoisting himself up in a flurry of acrobatic kicks. Little does he know, that those poles spin, and his frantic flipping spins him around and sends him flying off the other side of the stage to land amongst the lush satin pillows.
"Oh no, my poor bunny," a breathy voice exclaims and the curvaceous haregon pulls the dazed Heri to his feet and smothers him with her bosom.
"Vas excellent vork vith Tyrv... Tyr... dragon. Now what with Charles?" Misxibis says to Zylnan. He rubs his rough cheek in thought and his eyes widen as a thought settles in his mind.
"I have the worst idea... You need to talk me out of it, but how about... a shooting contest, between Charles and Heri, like putting an apple on my head."
"Terrible idea, Charles has terrible aim," Misxibis replies, shaking her head. Tyrvaan walks up beside them and nods in agreement.
"Maybe more helpful to throw an apple in air," he adds, and Zylnan nods.
"Get Heri, he can throw," Zylnan says moving over to Charles and sliding himself into the tightly packed group of women around him. Tyrvaan, Zipz, and Misxibis approach Heri and pull the struggling haregon from the embrace of the woman, placing items into his hands and explaining their plan as he struggles to suck in fresh air.
"Hey pal," Zylnan says, "maybe you should have some water, you know... just in case." he slides a glass over the table towards him. Charles rolls his eyes and pushes the glass away.
"No, no, no. I can handle my drink," he slurs, as Heri approaches.
"Hey Charles, I want to impress that haregon with some tricks," he says pointing at the female haregon, who flutters her eyelashes across the room. "Let's have a shooting contest. I think it will work wonders for... these ladies too. He winks at Charles, who nods slowly through the liquor haze.
"Of course," he tuts, "I don't even need to impress these ladies, but I'm here for you bro," he steps shakily away from the table and blinks several times as Heri begins flipping and jumping around the room, kicking up plates and cups. Charles shoots three quick firebolts, smashing two of the dishes and grazing the third. He spins with a flurry and bows to the ladies, whose eyes glow with excitement.
A breeze passes through the room and their minds clear and for a moment Charles' eyes meet Heri's and he staggers back, dropping the glass in his hand. It smashes on the floor and he looks at the women again, their cheeks flush with excitement, and takes a step away from them.
"Let's go!" Zipz shouts, kicking Tyrvaan once again in the shin and the party makes a hurried shuffle toward the door at the back of the room. All eyes follow them and as they open the door, the chatter and music of the room begins again and all turn to each other as they had never passed through.
The door shuts with another click and it dissipates into the stone wall as the last of them steps through. The wooden floorboards creak as they ascend the time-worn stairs. Dust sits heavily in the room and several cover their mouths as high bookshelves, laden with hundreds of ancient books come into view, lining every wall.
"Whoa," Charles mumbles, running forward and scouring the spines of those nearby, "Oh my... this time, I've only heard about it but never seen it." He runs to the opposite shelf and peers at a few worn tomes. "And these ones... they speak of ancient things, of history long before the cataclysm..., and these!" he runs to another shelf and begins muttering loudly to himself, pulling his notebook from his bag and starts taking notes. Zipz yawns, crosses her arms, and sighs before pushing through the others and winds her way through the maze of bookshelves. The others disperse, scanning the spines of books for things that interest them. Occasionally they remove a book, thumb through it and deposit it into their bag before moving on.
"Dragon!" Zipz shouts from within the maze, "Kick this door open!" There is a pause and then a grunt answers.
"No." Tyrvaan steps around the final bookshelf and finds Zipz pushing against a featureless door, runes glittering across its surface. "Let's wait for the rest." Zipz stamps her foot and crosses her arms with a huff, leaning against the nearest bookshelf. A few moments pass and she sighs again and shouts. "Missy! Missy! Come look at this!"
Tyrvaan shakes his head at her impatience and Missy soon appears around the corner, followed slowly by the others, each with half a dozen or so books of their preferred topics piled into their bags. Charles carries a significantly bigger pile and wobbles as he squats to place the heavy pile of books onto the floor before turning to the others, eyebrow raised.
Zipz gestures to the door and the eight runes that flicker there with mysterious magic.
ᛏᚾᚨᛞᚢᛚᛊᛟ
"Missy, there's no keyhole. I can't get in. I can't open it." Missy points to Charles who sighs and inspects the door.
"They're magic runes. They don't mean anything, they are trying to point us towards something. Maybe..." He turns to the bookshelves and points. "There!" You see the runes on their spines, it must be something to match. We need to find the matching books. Everyone split up and take a rune or two." Charles scribbles the runes onto scrap paper and hands them out.
"Treasure hunt!" Zipz shouts, darting towards the nearest wall. She pulls priceless tomes from their shelves in bundles and chucks them to the floor with little regard for their well-being in search of her rune. Charles' mouth falls open and Misxibis shudders visibly as she witnesses the blasphemy of her friend. Others, shake their head and move off in pursuit of their own.
They stand over a small reading table, eight ancient tomes splayed out, no words or titles upon their covers. The floor is littered with torn and broken books and Charles struggles to keep his eyes up so he doesn't have to witness the carnage as he matches the first rune on the door to one of the books.
“Definitely magic,” Zylnan sighs and takes the first book from Charles, opening it and blinking as he tries to focus on the words that swim and move across the pages. The knowledge comes slowly as it seems to force its way into Zylnan’s head and he pushes against the mind-splitting pain until it abates and all the knowledge of the book becomes clear. He drops it to the table and shakes his head.
"It's about the ancient ways of magic, and how the first users wove magic together from nothing," he peers around at the door and the first rune vanishes into words.
Eternity and everwhere
ᚾᚨᛞᚢᛚᛊᛟ
Zylnan hands a book to Charles, who opens it and staggers back as the next rune flickers and shifts to common.
Eternity and everwhere all seek to know.
ᚨᛞᚢᛚᛊᛟ
"This is stupid! I want to go! Books are dumb!" Zipz chants, as others move to the other tomes on the table. The others in the party each pick a book and begin to read and as the mind-splitting pain forces its way into their heads, Heri, Tyrvaan, Zylnan, and Misxibis stagger back and fall to their knees.
Heri staggers to her feet and her ear begins to twitch. She ignores it but it persists without a conscious thought, visible to others as a repetitive tick.
Misxibis and Zylnan peer around the room as phantom shapes and sounds begin to appear in their vision. They both shake their head but they continue to swirl around them, reaching for them and muttering deranged and confusing words like whispers in the wind. The two of them peer around anxiously, determined to appear normal as these shapes continue to plague their senses.
Tyrvaan peers up as he gains his feet, his eyes landing on Zipz and he knows, in his heart, that to be far from her will surely cast the dice of fates unfavourably, and that he must remain close to this new good luck charm. He shuffles closer to Zipz as he peers at the book-laden shelves, feeling eyes upon him. Five more runes shift, their common translations appearing on the door.
Eternity and everwhere all seek to know.
Nowledge is a power beyond all else.
Verily it is the true equaliser, more so than might or will.
Yours has been tested ᛟ
They all peer at the last book, its rune glittering ominously.
"This is taking too long! Hurry up!" Zipz shouts and everyone looks at the red-faced goblin. Charles rolls his eyes and Tyrvaan scoops up the last book, flicking through the pages. He staggers back into the nearest bookshelf, dislodging the remaining books that Zipz hasn't dumped on the floor, and shakes his head as they rain down around him. He looks at his friends and begins to laugh, slowly at first, then more persistent, like a coughing growl, until it becomes a full-blown laughing roar. Tears stream down his face as he thrashes across the floor. Several run to him, casting magic in an attempt to abate the madness, but most just watch, wide-eyed as his screaming laugh fills the room. A room that has not heard the sound of anyone in a millennium. Zipz steps up and pats the rolling dragon on the head.
"There, there. I'll protect you."
Nine minutes pass and the laughter begins to abate, becoming a bubbling choking sound as Tyrvaan gets to his feet and coughs.
"Let's go," he grunts, his throat hoarse from the ordeal. The others share awkward glances, but no one says anything as the last rune shifts to reveal the final words. Words Charles reads aloud.
Eternity and everwhere all seek to know.
Nowledge is a power beyond all else.
Verily it is the true equaliser, more so than might or will.
Yours has been tested and succeeded here.
The door clicks open and everyone walks through without another word.
The doorframe vanishes to nothing and everyone peers around with wide eyes. The brightly lit room radiates warmth, as delectable smells of roast food, sweets, and ale linger in the air. Three fully laden banquet halls fill the room, their contents enough to feed a small kingdom. All glowing with the brilliance of perfectly prepared food.
"Now, this is more like it!" Zipz shouts and darts forward, just a fraction too slow, as Misxibis grabs her collar and lifts her slightly above the ground. "But... look at all the food Missy!"
"Who put food here? Why is food here? Place not been touch in... possibly many years... Remember first room. Is unusual."
"Never mind, Let's push through," Tyrvaan says, lifting Zipz and stuffing her under his arm before moving toward the door on the far side of the room.
"But Dragon! Dragon the food! The Food!" Zipz struggles, kicking her legs uselessly.
"We can have all the food in the world when we're done with this," he grumbles.
"We better! Or it's your arse!" Zipz screams defiantly. Tyrvaan rolls his eyes and pushes against the door, then puts his shoulder into it, then kicks it, but it doesn't budge. Words glitter across the wood and vanish as Tyrvaan reads them aloud.
"Gluttony is the key to freedom."
"See, we have to eat! Let's get the key! We need to be free guys!" Zipz chants incessantly and Tyrvaan continues to batter the door to no avail, eventually turning back to the room with a defeated sigh.
"Yay!" Zipz chirps.
"Do you sense magic around the food? Is it more than it seems?" Zylnan says, turning to Charles. Charles holds his hand out to the food and closes his eyes for a moment, before turning to the party and shakes his head.
"It is... and it isn't... It's magic, but not harmful."
"I'll tell you what, you all read the books, so I'll sacrifice myself and eat the food!" Zipz shouts, wriggling free of Tyrvaan's grip.
"Zipz," he grunts and she turns to him. "Let me tell you about a food coma I had once... this is a trap." Zipz shrugs and moves a step closer, reaching slowly for a golden Danish. Tyrvaan's hand clamps down on her wrist.
"I don't think so little one. Not on my watch. Ready your resilience, that Danish is not for you," he grunts as Zipz tries to remove herself from his vice-like grip. "It says eating will grant us freedom...," he muses.
"Dragon, if you eat me, I swear to the gods!" Zipz squeaks and glares at Tyrvaan. He turns and pulls some rations from his bag, taking a bite of the jerky and peering around.
"Ugh..." Tyrvaan grumbles, "I guess we have to dig in." Tyrvaan releases Zipz and watches as she zooms across the room and hops onto one of the benches. She licks her lips as Tyrvaan falls onto the bench beside her. Charles takes a seat on the other bench and they grab at the nearest roast vegetables, pheasant, and berry pie, shovelling it into their mouths as Heri, Misxibis, Tyrvaan, and Zylnan watch for any changes with an intense curiosity.
The food is beyond delicious, each flavour accented perfectly, as if the magic used to make it was purely to perfect the flavour, and as Zipz and Charles shovel more and more food into their mouths, they feel a surge of energy and strength. Their wounds slowly knit closed as they eat more and more food and as the others see this they fall into the benches around them and begin eating.
Misxibis feels the same as the energy of the food revitalises her and sighs with satisfaction. Heri on the other hand, struggles, taking a bite here and there, his face slowly turning green as the unfamiliar food churns in his stomach. He suppresses the food's urge to escape and swallows, steadying himself on the bench.
"Dragon, Zylnan, eat some food. It's good. I feel much better," Misxibis says.
"I don't," Heri wheezes, burping and putting his hand to his mouth. Zylnan eyes him cautiously but sits opposite and Tyrvaan peers at the food with a deep ravenous hunger.
"It's fine," Misxibis reassures, "Heri, something disagree with." Zylnan nods and begins to eat, feeling his cautious optimism turn sour as the food begins to bubble and rise in his stomach. His face turns a light shade of green as he burps and seeks to keep it down.
“Hmmm,” Tyrvaan grumbles along with him stomach as he continues to eye the food, and Charles moves towards the door, feeling full to the point of bursting. He looks it over, pushing sternly against its mass to no avail and three more words appear before him. He swallows, hard, and reads it aloud.
"Eat it all."
He turns to the others and takes a deep breath, looking over the two remaining tables laden with food, and slumps onto a bench.
"Guess we better get to work," he mumbles.
"Dragon, you help," Misxibis says.
"This is gonna take days," Tyrvaan rumbles in reply.
"Doesn't someone have a pet?" Zipz chirps.
"Charles have owl," Misxibis says.
"The owl can eat all the food!" Zipz shouts, and everyone turns to her. "What?"
"Owl is too small, we will be here for days, but nice thought Zipz," Misxibis replies. Everyone looks at the food and Tyrvaan holds up his gauntleted hand, light appearing in it for a moment, before it flows down and over his body. Everyone picks up the nearest item of food and begins to eat.
Zipz, Charles, and Misxibis smile, feeling strength flow through them, energy seeping into their bodies. Tyrvaan's wounds begin to close and he sighs in satisfaction. Heri forces more food in, and his wounds close, as he struggles to keep it down.
Zylnan coughs as he forces more food down and burps up a glob of bile and acid. It hisses on the table and he clamps his hands to his throat feeling it burn his throat.
"Heartburn," Zylnan coughs. "Acid... reflux...," he breathes between gulps of air.
They all slide onto the benches of the last table, their movements sluggish as their bodies seek to sleep off the great feast. A few wipe sweat from their forehead as they dig into the last plates and Heri smiles as her wounds fully vanish.
Zipz staggers as she takes another mouthful and her green skin turns a more sickly shade and she takes deep breaths and stands beside the table as if preparing to give birth. She picks up another slice of feyberry pie and pushes through, stuffing it into her mouth, until her sickness passes entirely.
Tyrvaan and Misxibis suppress the rising sickness within, their dark and scaled complexions turning a shade of green but as they continue to eat they feel strength fill them and their bodies. As Tyrvaan forces the last fork of french toast into his mouth and burps up its scent, the door clicks open.
With a sigh and grunt, everyone pushes themselves up and waddles towards the door pushing at their waistbands and now tight armour. Misxibis brings up the back and as she steps through the door, the room darkens, its contents vanishing entirely, leaving no trace of their passing.
