Against the cult: the Forest Ruin (1.5)

The party searches the room thoroughly. The air is still and odorless, like a stone that has seen neither sun nor rain in ages. The room is empty except for the ancient stone bedframes, the straw mats, and the blankets that crumbles to decayed fragments at a touch. There are no traps, and no hidden compartments. As with the kitchen downstairs, this room is free from the thick carpet of dust that was omnipresent in the areas where the Heralds roamed.

After searching this room, the party proceeds to the next door in the short corridor, and it is a repeat of the first: another un-trapped, empty cell with a bed decaying from age. Then they proceed to the third room, and find the same thing. These were clearly solitary cells/bedrooms for the devotees, but they've been closed and empty for a long time...centuries, probably.Having cleared out the corridor, where does the party want to explore next?

After checking on the empty cells, Ogbar moves back to meditation room on the second floor, with Albertus right behind him. Trying the eastern door in that room, the barbarian finds it locked.

Albertus smashes his shoulder against the stone door, and the force pulls the ancient metal lock apart with a shriek of metal! The door flies open and hits the wall with a boom!

The room inside is an office of some kind, mostly dust-free as the other sealed rooms have been: there are two small desks against the east wall, each with a chair, a single drawer, ink pots, and stacks of ancient parchment on top. The force of the air from the swinging door hits the quills in the pots and the feathers disintegrate, delicate tufts wafting through the air. A small ironbound chest rests on the floor in between the desks. Another door faces the party in the south wall.

Under Xana's watchful eye, Albertus jiggles the lid of the chest. It is, indeed, locked. Would one of you like to try opening that, or should I?" Joseph asks, looking on curiously.

---

Aanbo inspects the stacks of parchment: they are brittle and dry with extreme age, but all seem to be blank. Then he tries the drawers, which open easily. Inside each drawer is a sheaf of parchment sheets filled with handwriting. The sheets in the southern desk seem to contain accounts, though the style of handwriting is cribbed and cramped and very difficult to read. But the pages do contain numbers arrayed in columns and rows amidst all the writing. The northern desk's parchment pages seem to be more personal, more in the order of a notebook or journal, and the lettering is easier to decipher. It appears to be very archaic Imperial. With a bit of effort, someone in the party could surely translate them quickly (DC12 INT check). All of the blank parchment on top of the desks is too friable to be of use: grab it roughly and it crumbles like a crispy potato chip. But the drawers are fitted so neatly with the desk that very little air circulated, so the passing years have been much kinder to them. Stiff, a bit crinkly, but not likely to snap or crumble just from handling.