Every opening out of the stone temple disappears. The walls transform into a smooth and glistening surface of silver-like metal. The five adventurers get down to prevent falling down as the ground starts to move and tiles shift beneath them.
A white light, bursting out the mirror’s glass, breaks the darkness abruptly, making the new and changing environment visible. Five copper-coloured hooks hang on the wall and the polished marble floor is almost as reflective as the Enochian Mirror, that lied in the middle of the room. While the ceiling was almost within their reach before - Dargothoth would have bumped his head if he stood up straight - now it towers far above them, several stories high.
“What in name of Pelor’s piping hot privates just happened?”, Bruq shouts, slightly deafened by the ruckus of the changing temple. He keeps circling to observe his new surroundings, the glaive singing as it splits the air with every quick turn.
“The Seraphim trapped us here, for sure”, the half-elf speaks, his head owned by vertigo, as he picks up his longsword. “Since there is no way out of here I presume we have to find the Enochian Crystals he mentioned. The question remains how we are supposed to do this.”
Lyssa, silent since the revealment of Dargothoth’s eerie secret, nervously puts her finger on the trigger of her trusted blunderbuss. It may not be the prettiest of weapons with its rusted mouth and weather-worn wooden parts, but it never truly failed her. She can count on it and that’s what she needs in her life. Something she can trust.
“Did he say “child-eating worshipper of malice”? I just want to be sure. Child-eating?” Her voice has lost all its pleasant properties. No charming melodies or soothing words. Only cold remains.
“He did say that, yes", Dargothoth says slowly. Merodius, still beside the speaking cleric, looks up to him and he takes a step back.
“Why did he say that?” Mero looks worried. “Why would he say that?”
(Persuasion 11 versus insight 10)
“I presume the angelic fiend has a personal gain by driving a wedge between us. His intentions - apparently - aren’t as celestial as he presents them. Don’t overthink it. My experience is that minds are easily twisted and fooled. Hadriel is trying the same on us all.” He tries to smile politely, but his sharp teeth and maleficent appearance ruin his attempt. Before Merodius really has the time to process his words, Dargothoth walks away towards the mirror.
(Perception 21 versus stealth 17)
From his pocket he takes out a small golden amulet, unable to hide it from the observant fighter of the group. “Isn’t that the talisman of the cult leader? Why do you have this?” Oslando, his face riddled with concern, walks up to him to inspect the trinket, checking if he is right.
“That is correct”, Dargothoth says calmly as he dangles it above the mirror. “I hoped to somehow activate this mirror to get out of here, but this thing doesn’t seem to work without the right incantation.”
(Arcana 8)
The easiness with which he speaks disturbs the others. “I can feel its magic and it doesn’t feel right”, Lyssa pleads. “You took some demon summoning amulet without us knowing and now you are trying to use it? That is sketchy to say the least, Dargothoth.” Lyssa puts her hands on her hips and crooks her neck. White locks of hair fall in front of her big eyes. With a dramatic movement she whips her hair backwards, looking him straight in the eyes in an almost sassy manner.
“I don’t trust the angel, my captain. I want to have some kind of leverage.” Before Oslando can reach Dargothoth, he puts the amulet away again. “But I will respect your wishes, for now”, he adds, looking at his companions, one at a time.
The half-elf shakes his head. “Only this will not do. You can't bring this kind of magic with you. It endangers us all. We will discuss this after we escape this transformed temple.”
(Investigation 6) (Investigation 15)
Bruq observes the room with a confused expression. He mainly focuses on the ceiling, far away from him. The darkness above him tells him nothing. It merely makes him aware that he is trying to find a solution where none can be found.
“We need five stones and there are five hooks on the wall”, Bruq says and he walks to the mirror, joining the cleric, who is observing the magical glass. He sees his own reflection, but something doesn’t feel right. It is almost as if the reality becomes very subtly distorted within the glass. “Let’s hang the mirror on one of the hooks.”
(Perception 20)
The sorcerer scans the hangers and notices something the others didn’t spot. “Read the texts”, he says as his head keeps turning to observe different parts of the wall.
While the rest is squinting, Mero walks up to the silver wall and points upwards to a small line of words, just out of his reach. He would have to jump if he wants to tap the sentence, but he doesn’t. “This one reads “Way of Blood”. The puppet still sounds very cheerful as he speaks these words. “Maybe we should check the other ones first.”
Lyssa and Oslando also start reading, while the satyr and dragonborn wait near the mirror, ready to pick it up when they need to.
“Way of Treasure”, Lyssa almost screams, clapping her hands once to show off her enthusiasm. Bruq shakes his head.
“Way of Justice.”
“Way of Woods.”
The priest, growing impatient with Bruq aloud reading, walks to the hook nearest to him and reads it. “Let’s hang it here”, he says to the hunter, catching him by surprise as he starts lifting the Enochian Mirror on its own.
Bruq aids him almost immediately, but not to be friendly to Dargothoth. He is scared the mirror might drop. He doesn’t want to be trapped here forever, especially not with him. Carefully, they tilt the relic and place it against the wall, slowly lowering it, waiting for the moment the hanger takes away the weight on their hands.
(Perception 11)
They take a few steps back and observe the glass surface. They all see how it starts to ripple ever so slightly and, as the waves grow larger and become more restless, an opening appears, revealing a small corridor.
“Gods be damned”, Lyssa whispers as she looks with eyes wide open, struck with awe. “What did you read on the wall?”
The satyr shrugs. “Dargothoth read it. Ask him.”
The siren shifts her attention to him and receives a parsimonious and ominous smile.
“Way of Oppression.”
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