We begin with a step into the unknown. 

Five years had passed since the Emergence. It was a time of chaos and sorrow. The very earth roared and tore itself asunder. The ocean writhed and claimed the miles of coastlines back to the sea. The sky bled red and cried for days afterwards, a mark of the spilt blood and the insurmountable deaths across Avidya. 

As if the decimation caused by the Emergence was not enough, creatures of the deep crawled out of the ground, awakened by the massive quake that trembled the very foundation of the world. Breaches to another world had been torn open, unleashing hordes of hideous and monstrous creatures that killed and consumed. This was a punishment -- some said, but no one was quite sure it could be as simple as a divine punishment when blackened stone towers rose following the monsters and repelled them away. 

The burgeoning town of Perseverance stands at the ruins of a formerly grand city. It lies at the edge of the White Waste desert with the Pale Chasm breach to the north. This far to the west, the only reason the town survived is the Gauntlet Monument that rose in the middle of the city when the Emergence broke the world apart. The monument overshadowed the town with a gentle aura of peace and safety, repelling the monsters from the Pale Chasm. 

There were rumours recently circulating among the citizens of Perseverance. From the east, from Munamguk, the former capital of the western kingdom, came a tale of the one who entered the monument and returned wielding magical power. From the south, from Sandori, a coastal town near a monument, came whispers of a way to close the breach. From the north, from Ardost, another coastal town near a monument, came the horrifying and worrying story of the crumbling monument when someone tried to enter it. 

We took our first step into the unknown with a blue envelope. It was sent anonymously, but the content was identical for all six recipients.

Dear Sir/Madam, 

Recently, under the auspices of the Perseverance Council, several teams have been commissioned to attempt conquering the monument that has protected us these past five years. However, recent rumours circulating among the masses has caused the attempt to be cancelled and the teams distributed under the Illuminated Sentinel's command to better protect the town. 

Your name came recommended in the council's whitelist -- not quite making the cut but still in consideration to replace the current roster. I am writing to give you a chance to be the first to conquer the monument and bring a much needed change to our town -- to finally fight back against the threat of monsters from this strange tear in reality instead of cowering under an equally mysterious tower. 

I implore you to keep our correspondents a secret. What we will be doing -- what you will be attempting -- will not be considered legal by any chance, but needed if we are to come out stronger in the end. 

The news from Munamguk was not exagerrated in the slightest. Several rouge traders and refugees from a nearby area have sworn on their lives seeing the power the monument conqueror now wield. The very power of lightning and thunder seems to answer their call. Swathes of monsters were decimated, but they are only one person. If one can conquer the monument to gain this power, many other will follow. It would not take long before these conquerors vie for more powers and subjugate others towns and monuments. 

Come to the northern side of the monument, by the ruin of the former brewers' guild headquarter, just as the sun rises. A cart with a week worth of supplies will be waiting for you if you agree to answer the call. Help us keep our town safe from the monsters and the threat of our neighbouring towns, Sir/Madam. You are our only hope. 

 

With a single step, you are within the Perseverance Gauntlet Monument. For a moment, you are no longer surrounded by the warmth of the desert, but a frigid cold that surpasses even the coldest desert night. The feeling lasts briefly before a scalding wind blows around you. The sight before you is no longer the streets of the Old Town District or the blackened visage of the Perseverance Monument. The dusty sandstone path under your feet has changed into uneven grey flagstones. The familiar yellow and cream stone wall common in Perseverance has been replaced with a smooth grey stone that seems to be carved directly from a massive block of stone, unblemished of any stoneworks. Affixed to the wall every 40 feet or so are crystal lights illuminating the corridor akin to the light of the sun at noon during slightly cloudy days -- bright but not blinding.

A narrow corridor stretches in front of you. You spy a door to the right about fifteen feet in front of you and another at the end of the corridor. The ceiling of the corridor is slanted, higher by the entrance than the end of the corridor. Statues of women with wings are sculpted carefully on the ceiling, all of them covering their faces with their hands.

{{Each large square is 10 feet by 10 feet.}}

{{Please give a brief description of what your character looks like and what they are doing as soon as they step into the Gauntlet Monument. As a note, the cart you are given has 40 rations, 12 potions of healing, 3 climber's kits, 3 hooded lanterns, 6 flasks of oil, 6 blankets, 6 sleeping bags, 3 two-person tents, and three barrels of water enough for 6 people to last 2 weeks.}}

Inge Stonechild glances at the cart once more as she steps through.  Ostensibly checking inventory, or perhaps the axle and wheels.  Anyone who knows her would discern what she really cares about, as ever.  The rations.  If it were up to Inge, there would have been twice as many.  Three times.

Her long dark braid wrapping around her shoulder as she turns back, Inge gazes curiously down the hallway, her brown eyes wide like a child's.  In truth, hallways and corridors and underground tunnels have never been her comfort zone.  Inge prefers the wide skies that she grew up with in the White Waste before the Emergence, but she can get over that.  Somehow, she knows she is meant to be standing here with these others.  Exactly why, she cannot say.

At least the hallway is wide and tall, on this end anyway.  Inge likes that.  Nice not to bump her head.  6'5", though whipcord strong in her lithe frame rather than bulky, she absently touches the haft of the glaive behind her back for luck, then draws it slowly in one hand.  Her ears, tapering to a point as with most half-elves, perk up as she listens.  Yet her stature suggests that the other parent may not have been human.

She turns to the two she had traveled with from Munamguk with, Myrla and Milo, and to Wadi who she knew from childhood, chewing her lip for a moment.  The respectful solemnity of her whisper is only slightly spoiled as Inge scratches her head vigorously and lets out a soft belch.

"Why do all those ladies on the ceiling cover their eyes?  They have wings, but it must be hard to fly blind."

Hunteros looks around his environment observing the angels first doors scond. taking his bow in his calloused and rough hands he quietly nocks an arrow. His pupils surrounded by baby blue adjust quickly. He sees his party some he recognize from the tavern he stayed at and some he doesnt. making his way over to them (three steps but still) and reaches out a lean arm, veiny muscles covered by his hardened scales. gloves cover his hand to prevent anyone getting cut by his sharp scales. 

OOC: can you post a link to the image of one? I cant see it.

"I believe they are angels (or aarackrokora never specified race) and to me they appear to be crying, not many obstructions in the heavens I believe so they really dont need to knwo where their going as long as they dont have a set destination." He responds shaking her hand with a hard grip to match her natural strength given grip.

Myrla is a slender elven woman with long blond hair. Her leather armor is upgraded with a few reinforced pieces but otherwise appears relatively thin, clearly made to minimally impede her movement. She carries shield, Rapier and a Longbow, but those that know her would have seen her produce a dagger or two out of thin air once in a while. She is nearly loaded to her limits with an oversized backpack and two pouches but she bears it without complaint. Her heavy steps, however, belie her natural grace and nimbleness, though it does not impede her speed as she enters fleet-footed.

Her eyes immediately dart around in the new environment and she observes the statues, trying to figure out if they do seem to go somewhere specific, or come from somewhere specific, as Hunteros insinuates (Insight if she observes something strange about them: 24 - that's the way to start a game, a natural 20). Hunteros move to draw his weapon alerts her and she decides to leave her backpack on the cart for the moment and draw her rapier just in case. 

Milo is stood towards the front of the group, short in stature as a gnome, with tanned skin and bright red hair. He places his backpack on the cart for ease of movement, keeping a rapier on each hip, a crossbow on his back in easy reach with a case of bolts. 

Having seen others pulling out weapons, Milo grabs both rapiers and wields them ready to react. Seeing as most people appear to be examining the statues, Milo will instead focus on the doors "As long as they don't stop covering their faces, that is fine by me. The real question is which door do we wish to try first?" and he goes up to the first door to see if there is anything of note on the door without touching it.

"I would try the first one first," opines Myrla in response to Milo's question. "It wouldn't serve that we try the second first only to find that our retreat is cut off by enemies coming out of the first."

"Doesnt matter to me as long as we get to the monsters. we are in agreement? first door first lets go." He opens the door

Myrla shoots a glance with raised eyebrows to Milo when Hunteros passed by him and simply opens the door without any precaution. "So be it," she shrugs and tries to peek inside.

If Milo had any experience in dungeons he would have taken a step to the side in case the door was trapped. However, he has never done anything like this before, and neither had anyone he knew growing up to hear about it. As such, the only traps he is familiar with are the kind that trap animals such as snares, pitfalls or bear traps. Instead, as he sees Hunteros go to the door and he holds both rapiers in front of him, ready to parry an incoming blow.

The carving on the ceiling seems important to Myrla. She has yet to determine why, but it is something to remember. It is a feeling at the back of her mind, an instinct after living for so long, that knows there must be a reason for the carving to be shown right at the entrance. 

The first door you encounter is a wrought iron door. It screeches faintly as Hunteros pushes it open, but despite your racing heart, there is nothing dangerous coming. No monster. No traps. No sound. Instead, it opens to a circular room with a pedestal in the middle and a palm-sized black cube sitting on it. Strange markings seem to be carved into the stone wall, resembling scripts from various languages. Myrla and Wadi spot a section resembling the Sylvan word for 'warning'. Inge notices a large portion of the wall resembling the Giant word for 'mind'. Hunteros and Brix can see the harsh Dwarven script along the bottom of the wall repeating over and over the word 'test'. There is also the word resembling the Halfling equivalent of 'secret' mixed with the elvish-like characters. 

Hunteros looks around because of the warning sign for any monsters.

rolling for investigation and advantage if they are monstrosites.

first roll: 16

if advantage roll: 8

Please tell me I have advantage *hyperventilating*

You look around, but the room is practically empty except for the pedestal and the markings on the wall. There is no sign of any creature ever entering this room despite the thick dust covering the floor. Yet, after looking more carefully, it appears that there is a door to the left. It is barely visible, almost identical to the walls if not for the brass door handle and the dustless scuff mark on the floor, a sign that it had swung open recently. 

Putting my bow back I unsheathe my longsword and gesture to my party to be close behind, I swing open the door. when I open it I rush to hide behind the door so if anything rushes out They rush by me.

"This is the strangest place I've ever seen," remarks Myrla. "What is this black cube? It seems important. A centrepiece to draw attention. This must be a trap or a welcoming device. It virtually screams that it wants to be touched. I think, I won't go near it."

"Then, the floor is untouched but the other door has been opened recently. If anything entered this space it must have been flying or hovering. And what did it do here? Checking that all is ok? Watching out for intruders like us? It certainly wasn't cleaning. Let's be careful!" She concludes and dons her shield. With sheathed rapier she steers the wagon into the small chamber if no one objects. 

(Prior to entering the room)  Inge returns the dragonborn's handshake bemusedly, simply repeating her own name, though he likely already knows it

Upon viewing the circular chamber to the south, she experiences a profound case of the heebie jeebies.  The black cube, on the strange pedestal, all the writing all over the walls.  Besides, anytime the word "mind" has come into play, like on that Giant rune over there, things have never turned out well for Inge.  Unless she was filling her mind with lore and stories told by the clan wise woman.  So there is that.  She feels hungry.

Glaive held in one hand, she advances with Myrla, her youthful curiosity overcoming her sense of strangeness.

Then turns in surprise, jaw open, as Hunteros suddenly moves to the eastern door and opens it, taking cover.  Inge balances instinctively on the balls of her feet, watching for enemies or hazards in this room or the next.  Something tickles her mind about the dangers of rushing the hunt.  Unfortunately, the bizarre setting she finds herself in is so different than the open plains of the White Waste, that her senses are not what they should be.

Inge Perception:  9

Brix hurried along the hall to his room, His recent conversation with his father still weighing heavy on his mind. Regardless of any arguments made to the contrary, Brix' father insisted the young gnome assist in the conquering of the monument.

"As a Philbin it is of the utmost importance that a member of our family be part of the team that succeeds in discovering the secrets of these monuments. It is imperative to the continuation of our family legacy. I know you think remaining here and helping to rebuild the brewery and restore our family business is where you need to be but as leaders in this community we have a responsibility to the greater populace."
The directive caused Brix' stomach to churn a bit. He didn't like venturing out. But if there was one thing to know about the young gnome was that he was loyal to the family above all. So with a weighted mind he packed the gear and equipment that he usually reserved for the occasional component harvesting mission.
From under his bed he pulled his alchemy kit. The beakers, tubes, and vials were all tucked snuggly inside a wooden locked box. When opened and set up the box was a simple but efficient laboratory set up. Straps had been attached to the case so it could be carried like a back pack. Though the box was as long as his torso only the upper 2/3rds housed the alchemy kit. The bottom third was fashioned into a drawer so that a change of clothes and smaller items could be stored there. Various attachment points had been added to the outside of the box so that additional pouches, sacks and equipment could be lashed on. To these points he added a length of rope, his water skin, some additional components that wouldn't fit into his bandolier. The bandolier itself hung from a coat peg near the door. He inspected the animal horn vials that held the various components he would need for his elixirs, and other concoctions. He made sure the stoppers were on tight and that each vial was tightly held in place. Once he was satisfied that all was secure he slung the bandolier over a shoulder added a belt containing more pouches around his waist. Boots, leggings, and a cloak to cover it all completes the ensemble. Brix glances in a mirror and looks over his reflection. His unruly red hair was it's usual frizzy mess and his skin had been tanned and weather beaten by the hot dry conditions of Perseverance.

A wooden rod tipped on one end with a metal point and a metal ball on the other served as both a cane and a mace. Grabbing this Brix turned to take a final look at the safe haven he was leaving before closing the door softly and hurrying to met the group he would be joining on this adventure.

Reaching the entrance to the monument he was glad to see some familiar faces. He had seen Milo and Inge around the Crossroads and he had hunted mushrooms more than once with Wadi. This gave him a small amount of relief but the gravity of the situation was apparent on everyone's faces as they entered the monument. Brix never made a peep as he was stunned to silence by the architecture and heaviness in air around him. He was more than content to follow along behind the rest as they moved deeper into the structure.

The trepidation Brix had been feeling is pushed back in his consciousness as the intrigue of a puzzle piques his interest. He slowly walks around the pedestal reaching back into his memory trying to find something he may have read or been told or even overheard that would give some clue as to what they had discovered.

Artificers lore: 15

Milo looks around, not recognising any of the words. While everyone else has entered the room and is checking the new room out, Milo will look back into the original corridor to see if there has been any change, particularly with the statues.

Perception: 16