The Orb seemed not to truly see the group.
Aemon turned to Ser Harkuren and whispered, "No. Not now. Run!"
Harkuren encouraged the former squire of Lady Saryiel to try his “newfound” abilities and confront the creature. Unsure of that, he agrees and moves forward to stop it. Bold as any knight, he call to the creature and it speaks.
A sultry woman’s voice says, “Ah there you. Stop running.”
Not sure if the voice was speaking to Aemon or the party, the group takes no chances and begins leaving, Wan’whivarn and Kedwyn forcing a door open, Dorn behind them, and Feng grabbing and carrying Vrinne.
Harkuren remained to provide support if needed.
“You are so naughty, you cannot keep running away. Come back.” The rotted beholder says.
“You cannot… " Aemon begins to break up, his voice hollow and distant. His form wavering and flickering in and out. “No” he cries, “not again. I will not serv…” and in a flash of light is gone.
Harkuren moves up to block the path. The voice speaks to him, offering him to serve “her”.
He refuses but speaks with the voice. Asking who she is and who she serves.
It replies, “Lareth, and I am servant to no man. I ‘work with’ Kalarel, that is all.”
She tells Harkuren that Aemon and his family are wicked and should be destroyed.
He asks her to explain but it cryptic in her response.
He flees as the orb flares out a beacon searching for the group.
Moving down a long disused corridor, the party has a choice right to another corridor or straight ahead to a set of stairs going down. Looking for fresh air, Kedwyn encourages the group to go to the stairs.
The stairs descend deeper into the complex, a cold breeze rushes over the party, and their breath is now visible. The stairs end in a corridor that turns into a large chamber. The chamber appears to be some sort of excavation site.
This place is very cold, and even the most insensitive can tell that the unnatural chill is a corruption in the air. A wide pit in the center dominates the room, its sides slick with moisture. A pulley has been affixed to the ceiling, and a rope descends from it, connected to four more ropes. These in turn are tied to the edge of a 10-foot-wide wooden platform, circular in shape, in four different places to provide stability. A lantern sitting atop a stool in the southwestern corner illuminates the chamber. Scattered about the pit edge are picks and shovels, and a strange statue rests in the corner farthest from the entrance. Against the north wall stands a large, round, flat stone about the diameter of the pit.
After some dancing lights investigations they decide to take the platform down.
Roughly 15 feet from the top of the shaft, indications exist that a stone plug was once placed here, then carefully mortared and sealed. Just above that point, a 4- foot-wide tunnel carrying an underground stream empties into the shaft, the water spilling down into the darkness below. A 2-foot-wide opening is visible just below the top of the shaft.
The water pouring down beside the descending platform creates a mist below, deepening the chill that you feel as you go deeper. Through that mist, you can see that the floor below is just over 60 feet from the top of the shaft. It appears very smooth and black, with veins of deep violet. The shaft walls spread out into the darkness, opening onto a vast cavern.
As they moved down, there was movement in the shadows. Using his wand of light to explore the cavern, Ser Harkuren scans the cavern and see a creature of nightmare float down towards the group, it’s barbed tentacles reaching out and grabbing Wan’Whivarn!
The creature lashes out grabbing the Warlock and pulling him away from the platform. The party attacks as it it is floating away with their now limp warlock in tow, Vrinne blasts it with magic missile. The creature’s brain-like head erupts in places of impact and the grell drops like a rock – falling to the platform below with Wan’whivarn’s limp form making a sickening hollow sound as he lands on the black surface below.
Hastily, the party move the platform down. Harkuren jumps down before the platform lands, and rushes to his comrade.
Wan’whivarn’s breath is shallow and faint. Calling upon Bahamut, he lets the power of his diety flow into the elf.