The First Expedition: The Alchemist's Vault

The team ventures down the dank northeast passage. The light from Elara's staff reveals that the chamber at its terminus is the blighted remains of a parlour — a once-grand room now ruined by damp and time. The wallpaper peels in brittle flakes, rotting divans swell with decay, and torn curtains hang in shreds.

Along the eastern wall, you spot a beautiful arched door wreathed in carved vines and flowers, etched into the onyx stone. Trix has already found the slot for a command card here, which is empty. No door handle or visible lock exists.

A passage leads to the south, which leads to the balcony that overlooks the pod room. Careful to not allow your light to be observed, you hang back and listen to the sounds of the newly-hatched fungoids dismantling the guardian construct - breaking, snapping, and scraping noises, punctuated by the occasional aggressive bark as they vie for choice parts.

Things appear pretty much as they did to Trix the day before, when he explored here with Earl, minus the sounds of the repair robot working to restore the limestone brick wall down in the pod room.

Elara manages to look past the dilapidated structure and see through time, seeing it as it was and analyzing the most minute of details.

If Valeria's journal was correct, this place was built by a powerful alchemist. The wallpaper, she notices, was once green and had impressions of leaves on it. The torn and shredded curtains would have hung like gossamer drapery. The divans were engraved with plant motifs, likewise the grand door frame on the east wall. And, you have encountered numerous plant and fungus creatures within these halls.

Undoubtedly, this alchemist was obsessed with plants. He's created a world of plants that thrive in darkness, possibly feeding off the magical energy of the tower instead of light. Truly a genius.

Another part of the legend from Valerian's journal was that the Alchemist intended to sleep through the end times and be awoken once Aurorion was restored. Well, this parlour had the look of an antechamber to a noble's sleeping quarters if she had ever seen one. If she had to guess, she expected that behind that door locked door to the east was the alchemist's place of repose. To think, that the alchemist chose to use their gifts solely to survive and not to help their fellow Aurorians. This speaks volumes about their personality.

Whether the alchemist was still alive after all this time, Elara couldn't tell, but their magic was clearly quite powerful if they built this vault in the first place. A person of great wealth, power, and intellect - but very likely not humility or compassion.

The door has no visible hinges or knobs. It appears to be a sliding door, like the one at the entrance that the other relic hunters had used blasting powder to open up.

Subeen tries to wedge her crowbar into the door at various places, but as she puts all her considerable strength into it, the crowbar bends before the door yields.

Subeen quietly stalks forward into the darkness toward the balcony, the air getting even more humid as she approaches. She creeps up to the balcony, and can hear the fungoids clanging about as they scrounge for parts from the destroyed construct. Occasionally, you hear them make snarls and snaps, possibly arguing over choice bits. You can also hear faint noises coming from all around the room, rustlings and clicking in the dark.

As her vision adjusts to the low light conditions, she can make out the red light from the intact but cardless guardian construct's 'eye' and green lights on the cardless repair construct's body, which barely illuminate the surrounding space. Shadows and silhouettes of the fungoids seem even more menacing in this light.

Subeen has a unique sensory experience - perhaps because she is a worshipper of the World Tree, she can sense this pod plant's presence, and feel how its roots dig deep below this room. There is something supernatural about the plant; magic courses through it, but also emotion, awareness. It possesses a biter anger, as if some ancient injustice is poisoning it. What more, she can sense its pride in the brood of fungoids ripening on its vines, possibly in the hundreds, all waiting to hatch.