As Kazadar prays, the others feel a strange mental phenomenon. Sadly, it isn't their spirits being uplifted by the Sovereign Host. The familiar mental voice of their mindflayer acquaintance insinuates itself through their brains like questing tentacles probing out weaknesses.
Greetings! Are you all receiving my transmission? I must say, it hasn't been easy to find you - there seem to be a number of magical barriers against this sort of thing and I might be cut off at any moment. I'm certainly gratified that at least some of you appear to be still be alive - even Gelb! Is this is a convenient moment?
Yeah, even him. "Uh, I guess this is as good a time as any other."
Excellent! The surgery on your companion Rolund has entered a most interesting phase. However, he apparently wishes Father Xativa to hear his confession before we continue - a somewhat surprising development, I'm sure we can all agree. Unfortunately this is a most sensitive stage in the process, and any delay could cause him permanent damage, but he is being quite obdurate - as one might expect. Is Father Xativa available? If we complete his confession expeditiously then I can continue with the procedure and resolve the damage done to him.
Rodergo sits up a little straighter as he listens to the mindflayer's message. "I am... stunned. If such a stick-in-the-mud as Rolund actually desires my spiritual advice, grand developments must be afoot. I fear that I must answer this call, inconvenient as it might be."
He stands up and starts gathering his things. "Could we please travel as a group to the surface? Time might be of the essence, and I need to get there safely."
Nevharath speaks up. "I can accompany Rodergo to the surface and to the lair of the mindflayer. Someone with an understanding of the psionic arts may also help keep him from harm."
"It is surprising, as you say. Link us to Rolund so that we know he is still alive and the request is genuine."
This isn't really something I can just pass around. It requires immense.... just to.... Hello, can you...?
The connection fizzles out.
Rodergo nods gravely at Nevharath's offer. "That is probably the best solution. Farewell for now, friends, and give my regards to Gath." Shouldering their packs, the kalashtar and the priest wander down the gloomy corridor, quickly disappearing from view.
Janosz is clearly unhappy as he watches Rod and his bodyguard depart. "That had better be real. If it is a trick I'll hunt the mindflayer all the way to the ends of the world. I'll make him watch as I cut his squirming tentacles off his face and deep-fry them and eat them with garlic and butter before I kill him and every last of his followers."
Nevharath readies his weapon and manifests a few powers, extremely wary of their egress. He leads the way.
Gil watches them go, a thoughtful look on her face.
"... and bright may the light of Dol Arrah shine upon the wickedness that haunts these ancient depths..."
"Aw, f$#+ it." Glancing at the praying cleric, Janosz sits down in a corner and sinks into a meditative state.
Before Rodergo heads off, he hands over a stack of wands. "You may need these."
After a while, Kazadar completes his prayers.
After Rodergo and Nevharath leave Ezreal wonders, "What do you think are the chances he cut the connection on purpose?" He shrugs and pulls a spellbook from his bag flipping it open. "In any case with the kalashtar gone, I feel slightly more at ease. I find them alien- inhuman and cannot comprehend what their end goal might be in all of this." He pointedly looks at Gelb, "And that is saying something in a group of two changelings, one of whom is working for a mind flayer, and cleric who we randomly found in a dungeon full of dead things designed to teach us the inevitability of our doom."
The mage sits down in a corner with his book open on his lap and begins running through a couple of spells in his book repeating the lines over and over in his mind to build up the arcane reservoir to power those spells.
Kazadar stands up, and places his helmet on, covering the last bit of visible dwarf that remained. Strapping on a heavy shield and picking up his warhammer, he looks to the group.
"Thank you lot for saving me. Have you checked the other cells? I have some companions that were captured."
Gil gestures to Ezreal. "We haven't, but we have a moment while he continues his studies. Come, let us check for your allies." She looks at the others, "Someone should keep an eye on him," gesturing at Ezreal, "but I won't turn down any company."
"Take Gelb with you. I'll stay with Ezreal."
"Hell, maybe some of Gaia Sotharr's old buddies are here."
"There was a female Karrn, and a male dwarf. Captured. And an elf mercenary mage, dunno where that sod got off to."
Gil give him an appraising look. "How did you get captured? What kind of shape were they in when you saw them last?"
"I was captured by a trap that separated us. They were much the same condition as i was, but anything could have happened, my state when you found me was far removed from what it was when i was captured."
Ezreal flips his book closed once the others seem ready to go and stands while stowing it in his pack. "I believe she means who stripped your gear and locked you in a cell?"
"I didn't see my assailant, one minute i was trying to figure my way out of the trap; the next moment, i was chained in this cell."
As the other party members start getting up, Janosz climbs to his feet. Nodding to the cell-searchers, he pads quietly down the corridor, bow at the ready.
None of the other cells seem to be occupied. Eventually the corridor comes to an end at a stone door. The door is carved with a relief of a enormous dragon destroying a large city with its fiery breath.
"Ah, no grand temple to the Keeper would be without this imagery. Fiery Scourge, the Keeper's supposed draconic avatar. Random, violent, pitiless death and all that. If you ask me, the Keeper cults are just trying to borrow imagery from Dol Arrah."
Janosz looks at the dwarf, one eyebrow raised. This guy is good. "It's gotta be trapped, prolly some kind of fiery blast. Stand back, y'alls."
"It will be more than a trap on the door. This should be the Shrine to the Fiery Scourge. Xativa and I prepared some measure of resistance to the firestorm we expect to be hit with inside, but in the end we have expended those resources to get through the acid cloud pit."
"I have one scroll remaining to offer temporary immunity. Probably very temporary."
At the Reacher's instruction, Kazadar moves back as far as suggested. At the Karnn's mention of protective spells, the dwarf pipes up once more. "With a quarter-hour, I could entreat of Dol Arrah a spell of protection from fire."
Gil also detects no traps.
"Oh well. Let's see what's behind this door. Nothing pleasant, I suppose." Janosz puts his hand against the draconic relief and gently cracks the door open before peering inside.
Beyond is a long, high-ceilinged chamber supported by fluted columns. Fire bowls burn with a low, sombre orange light between the pillars. In the centre of the room a larger bowl flickers with a large tongue of flame.
"I suppose those flames aren't illusory in nature."
"No. Definitely not."
Seeing Janosz is ready to go, Ezreal unfurls the scroll and casts it on himself as well as another to fly again.
"A bit of fire protection would probably be useful. Let's check the small fire bowls first and save the big one for last."
Kazadar prays for a few minutes, drawing a chunk of red clay from a pouch at his waist. Using the clay, he draws a symbol in celestial on himself, surrounded by a crude sun with eight rays extending from it. He taps Gil, Gelb, and Janosz with the clay, and the symbol appears on each of them as well.
The adventurers open the stone door again and enter the chamber. They cautiously walk a few steps into the room. But as they do, a pillar of flame erupts from the large fire bowl thirty feet high. It blazes in place for a few heartbeats, roaring and bathing their faces with heat even from this distance. Then vaguely bat-shaped wings unfurl togther with a serpentine neck and tail, all composed of bright orange fire, creating an indistinct but unmistakable draconic shape. A miasma of greasy smoke surrounds it with the sickly-sweet smell of burning flesh.
Amid the roaring of the flames a voice hisses almost subliminally.
"It'll burn you, but can also drain away your life force" Kazadar warns the others.