Chapter 10 – Part 6

Orphan came into the chamber first. It would have made more sense for one of the darkvision-equipped gnolls or orcs to take point position, but Delegado had asked him to enter, so he did.

The warforged felt nervous because the (relatively) loud bustle of the armed and armored group made too much background noise for him to be as aware of his surroundings as he would have preferred. He threw in a sunrod before he quickly somersaulted in.

The chamber was huge.

The warforged spun in place quickly, and took in the place. He was on a ledge that ran along three sides of what was a huge pentagon. Five stone pillars, built elsewhere and set in place it seemed, not natural rock, held up the vaulted ceiling. The place was maybe 40 feet across and twenty or so feet high. There were stone bumps on the floor, arranged around a central dais with an altar. He was near one of the points, and the wall opposite him had a mural made from small tiles. Most of the tiles were long gone, but it seemed that there had once been a depiction of a huge, bloated thing with large wings, horns, and a rod of some kind.

A worship place, Orphan realized. In a moment his headband filled in the details. A death cult. They worshiped undead here, but this is not the Blood of Vol. A fiend that styled itself Lord of Undead, apart from other fiends. His headband’s information ended there.

Whatever this place was, it was first used millennia ago.

But there was maintenance work. The warforged was a warforged, not a dwarf or one of the snake-headed stone masons of Droaam, but he could tell that this place had been maintained and used sometime more than a decade ago but less than a century.

Or maybe that was off, time acted oddly in the Wastes.

But someone had swept. Not a speck of dust lay on the floor. Someone had lovingly shined the altar.

Someone who may occupy the space to the right of the mural, where a tunnal entrance was poorly hidden.