Into the Mouth of Qokagax (private event)

[Whim]

@Eckhart_Von_Musel @Imperfect_M @Yeti @SanguineBladez

Wealdath's Ridge was a far-flung corner of the Terrin Mountains. The slope fell in the Serenian province of Altas Verde after Adela broke away, but being isolated and infertile such things did not much matter. It had taken nearly one week for Wyrdwood's Expedition to reach the summit, and was a frightening week of walking single-file across crumbly old trails and decrepit rope bridges. It seemed sheer luck their map was accurate, and their guide able to follow it. But here they were.

The Mouth of Qokagax was a literal mouth. Part of the cliff-face had been intricately chiseled to resemble the open maw of a dragon. The columns supporting it were fashioned to look like rows of teeth, covered in hieroglyphs and fading paint. It offered a beautiful vista of the surrounding mountainsides, capped with snow and covered in a forest of scrubby pines. The trouble with the Mouth of Qokagax was that it was meant at some point to house a dragon and such its main entrance was meant to be flown from, and if there was a footpath it long since crumbled. A series of scaffolds needed to be constructed in order to reach the gap.

The laborers were nearly finished, and now testing it could bare weight...

Two scholars from Wyrdwood, young woman and an old man, had collected an assortment of mercenaries and scholars for the actual spelunking. The young woman was called Anwen and had done most of the recruiting, sending out letters to various fringe scholars and collecting workers as they marched through the province. The old man was called Maergath and kept largely to himself but to glower.

***

Anwen sat on a crate of climbing supplies watching the workers finish. It was time to go inside. After the long journey, and their brief respite of lazing about camp, it seemed more a chore than an exciting venture. She clapped her uncalloused hands together. "Alright! I think the archaeological team will be going inside. Why don't we get started and-" And no one came or even heard her above the din. The Old Man snorted in annoyance. She knew he was watching and judging this whole thing, meant to be her show.

"You do not think everyone will be going. Everyone is going." Maergath mumbled, dripping venom. With that he slammed his cane on the ground, creating a thunderous boom, rattling tools and ears. "Your leader SPEAKS! Those of you who have been idle and lazing about! Here! Now!"

"Well, everyone going into the Mouth should come here. We'll go over the details and get started," blood flushed to Anwen's pale face, and she forced a smile.

***

Oliver Driftwind hoped he would get to do more than moved rocks. The chance to do some proper ruins delving and adventuring was just too perfect. There were wizards from the university, a goblin alchemist, and even a famous ranger! And he would get to go with them! After all he had a sword, armor, and had read just so many books on all the animistic worship and dragon cults of early Altas Verde. Mostly he got asked to do the heavy lifting, and as a young man it seemed impolite to refuse. By midday he was sweaty and bored out of his mind.

Then came a deafening thunderclap, and the real adventurers began to encircle Anwen. Ollie went rushing over, tightening his armor as he went, a stupid smile on his face. "H-hullo! I'm Ollie if you don't know me. I'm ready to go!"

[Eckhart_Von_Musel]

"About freaking time, too."

Molly Starklein sat atop the ledge, watching from above as the assorted scholars and adventurers assembled around the ancient wizard. The ranger had scaled the cliff already, acting as a spotter for the workers as they constructed a ramshackle series of scaffold. It occurred to her about halfway through the job that the old man probably could have levitated them all up at once using his magic, but she chose to remain silent about this- she was better off just observing him and his associate for the time being.

The ranger pursed her lips. Acting as a "guide" for the expedition hadn't been her first choice of assignments, and the whole thing seemed rather dull. There were much more interesting things to do in the mountains than visit old ruins- things like slaying the occasional dragon that crossed the Adelan border, for instance. Unfortunately she was in no place to argue, as this task had been handed to her by the young Beryl Feyal herself. The newly christened High Lady had confessed in private that she suspected something weird was going on, but was reluctant to tell Molly exactly how or why this was...

"Well, whatever." Molly thought as she descended halfway down the scaffolding to better hear what was going on. "Orders are orders..."

[Imperfect_M]

   In truth, the letter from Wyrdwood had been meant for Henry, her "master," as it were. What a surprise it must have been when Henry's pet Goblin showed up, informed the academy of his death roughly ten years prior, and then simply went along as if nothing had changed. She was a self-declared Master Wizard, after all. Anyone who disagreed with that statement was given a first-hand show of Tee-kup's skill. Probably in the form of a fireball or some other form of mayhem.

   She largely stayed by herself, considering her liberal use of magic to overcome her problems. Treacherous path? No problem, Tee-kup simply started molding the earth in front of her to create her own little walkway so she wouldn't be inconvenienced with waiting. Rickety rope-bridge? Nothing some levitation wouldn't handle if Tee-kup wasn't confident of the bridge's construction. By the time the laborers actually began working on opening the place up, Tee-kup had already set up her own little warded tent. She was halfway up a column, floating mid-air, and leisurely drawing a recreation of the "mouth," with all of its intricacies included. Hoot the Barn Owl Familiar flew hither and thither, keeping to himself just like his master.

   There was a sudden thunderclap, combined with the roar of a rasping old man. Tee-kup looked up to the empty skies rather than to Maergath. Thunder, thunder means rain, rain means clouds, right? It took Tee-kup a second to process that the thunderclap was no natural weather event, but rather a proverbial cracking of a whip. People started gathering to move into the ruins properly... Tee-kup floated over to within earshot but kept up with her drawing. She was going to investigate what she wanted of this dragon tomb, with or without these big-wig types.

[Yeti]

Oh this was going to be great! He could tell.

After having poked, prodded and picked at several fellow scholars to opening a spot for him, Llewellyn was finally joining his first official, sanctioned expedition. The excitement was palpable, almost as heady as the sense of magic in the air, and he was jumping little hops from foot to foot to get all that energy out. Llewellyn adjusted his large wizard's hat, trying to retain a professional poise in public. But it was difficult to focus with a mind buzzing like a wasp hive.

He had snagged a spot within earshot as soon as the booming sound of a cane caught his attention. Llewellyn huddled just by a bit of scaffolding, resting on his hind legs, hands neatly folded and tail curled to the side. His eyes roved the area around him, searching for any recognizable faces among the onlookers. Spotting an owl, his eyes widened.

Could it be? Another familiar? Oh, Llewellyn would have to introduce himself. As soon as he could spot an opportunity of course.

[Whim]

Anwen took a deep breath. Maergath observing her every move was bad enough. Magister Llewellyn was here, and Molly Starklein who was something of a hero in the region. It was just a matter of getting started and not thinking about everything that was at stake here. "We're going to be entering the barrow as a small group. You all know its history by now. This dragon used to be seen as a god by the early Adelans and proved quite a terror during its secession. Our aim is to secure the tomb, and locate the dragon's bones for study. Our zoologists have little opportunity to study them as you might guess!

"We'll have to put off the rest of our studies until that's done. Ordinarily I'd love the chance to look into how Adelan animism plays into their burial practices. Such practices like that are often rooted in some rather fascinating and unorthodox applications of magic than actually communing with spirits. Its really quite-" her freckled cheeks turned red. She was rambling. "The main thing should be disabling any mechanical or magical traps along the way. Ghosts flock to cemeteries as it is; I can only imagine what sorts of spirits linger near a creature of such immense psychic ability."

"Are there any other questions? Concerns?" Her eyes drifted momentarily to the floating goblin, and oversized boy. They were going to be a handful, but necessary muscle. Teekup was floating around not paying attention and Oliver would not shut up. Her voice took a sterner tone, as if a lecturer trying to wake a daydreaming student. "Tee-kup? Oliver?"

***

Ollie opened his mouth into an 'O' of surprise when Anwen addresed him. He did not think any of these important people would notice him, let alone ask his opinion! The boy had it in his head that, if he sounded clever enough, that he would be allowed to study at Wyrdwood. If he could awaken a sword like Karuthuux why could he not be a wizard? His blade had been strangely silent as they neared the barrow. It was honestly a blessing as the last thing he needed was to be goaded into a wrestling match with a worker, or sword-fight with Molly.

"Oh!" his gaze drifted to Teekup and then to the rest. "Well I've seen you move stone with magic. Can you, um, just make your own path to the bones?"

[Imperfect_M]

Hoot swooped down and landed on a nearby crate. The tawny barn owl adjusted his footing as he tucked his wings in. He turned and tilted his head in a series of staccato motions, his gaze fixed on Anwen as she explained the "game plan," as it were. Tee-kup remained where she floated, continuing to make her rendition.

"Tee-kup? Oliver?" Anwen barked, her sentence punctuated like a whip-crack.

"Ah-hem," Hoot finally... Well, hooted. This wasn't Tee-kup nor Hoot's first time dealing with the more academic types from the Academy. The tawny owl's speaking voice rang with a silvery baritone as he continued: "I assure you, my master is listening through me. Whatever information you have is indeed reaching her; trust. She has simply judged it more efficient to multitask."

The owl familiar was a breath away from spitting a rather scathing comment in Maergath's direction, but was fortunately cut short by Oliver's question regarding the use of earth magic to simply "carve" a path to the dragon's bones.

"Through my master's experience of exploring dragon tombs- and I should clarify that we have considerable experience," Hoot explained, primarily for Oliver's sake. "That, unless we have a detailed map of the tomb's construction and layout, such a thing would be inadvisable, not to mention dangerous. We've only a vague clue of where the bones themselves are, and tunneling through the tomb without knowing what may lay around us could cause a collapse, as well as considerable damage, due to a lack of knowing precisely where to reinforce the walls of your tunnels, should the need arise."

The barn owl nodded his head in confidence. It was less-so a gesture of answering a question, and moreso a confirmation of an unvoiced decision. "My master does have a question," Hoot said in Anwen's direction. He opened his wings and soared over closer to Anwen and landed on the beam of a nearby tent. "You mentioned the presence of potentially malevolent spirits. What is your plan for defending this base camp? Are we planning on leaving warders or casters behind in order to combat a potential attack?"

Now that he thought about it... That was the most Hoot had spoken in a long while. It wasn't that the owl familiar couldn't speak, but rather it was not an activity he enjoyed. Sentient, or not, he was still an owl. He preferred letting Tee-kup do the talking, but considering Tee-kup's... Personality... It was probably easier for the both of them for Hoot to speak for them. Tee-kup's brazen nature and hair-trigger-casting was going to end up hurting someone otherwise.

[Eckhart_Von_Musel]

"Does it matter? There's nothing out here to attack us."

Molly sat cross-legged on the scaffolding, drumming her fingers against the wooden surface. "The Southroad Bandits aren't organized enough to pose a significant threat. Trolls and giants don't come this far south, the orc tribes stick to Adela, and the Kulshedra who lived here died off a few decades ago." The woman's nose twitched irratably. "Unless you expect a dragon to fly all the way up here from Adela, which is unlikely. Dumb lizards should know by now what happens when they do..."

[Yeti]

"Hmm... Perhaps it would be of help to cast some minor protection, just as a precaution." Llewellyn tipped his hat in greeting to the barn owl. It was the best he could do without going up and shaking his er- talon. Or would it be the wing? 'Hoo' knew. Llewellyn stifled a chuckle at his own inside pun. Honestly, the owl seemed intelligent, if a little uptight.

Looking around at their motley crew, his eyes glittered with barely restrained fervor. "But I wouldn't want us to delay. As Ms. Rhys has stated, fascinating and unorthodox magic is waiting around the corner."

Sitting back on his haunches and folding his hands, he continued. "I do have one minor concern in regards to navigation. It might be advisable for one of us to have a paper or compass of sorts. At least we should be aware of the way back? I do have a good memory, but this is uncharted territory and it would be a service to have a contingency plan should something go awry."

[Whim]

"We're familiar with that old students' trick. The wizard supposedly listening, the familiar dutifully obfuscating a distracted mind. Hope you're well-rewarded for it. Perhaps a mouse?" The old wizard let out a sharp laugh, giving Llewellyn a knowing smirk. "I'll leave my animats if you're truly worried. Could even stay myself. Leg isn't what it used to be. Such a tragedy if something terrible overcame you all and laid waste to our chums here." Two silent guards in cyathil armor had been at Maergath's side much of the journey. Neither ate, drank, or slept. After days of travel they had become little more than furniture, more easily ignored than dicing workers and flea-bitten mules.

"I'm sure Magister Llewellyn's protection will warn us if anything we disturb escapes. Thank you." Anwen had to force a smile. She wasn't really expecting such a debate. But Llewellyn did raise a good point! She pulled a notebook from her pocket. "I thought I would draw a map to go with our notes. Unless someone else wants to? Markers or torches for an escape would be ideal."

If you can use magic to bore a hole in something why not struts? Why not send something expendable like an imp and open a doorway?! Ollie never let this sort of thing bother him but the solutions were so obvious and he knew they could be done! Well, in books they did that sort of thing. Why not the real world? "I could, uh, do the map!" the armored youth chimed in, voice shy and reedy despite his overly muscled frame. This would be his chance! Real archaeology and scholar-stuff! He pulled a notebook from his pack.

They tromped over the catwalk and to the tomb's entrance which overlooked overlooking a sheer cliff. A gust of frigid wind rattled its frame, and had Ollie holding on for dear life. There was no apparent doorway to the tomb - just a rough-hewn passage leading into the 'throat' of the dragon-face. A stone brazier filled with dry straw sat at the center of the passage. Upon it was a faded inscription in a crude dialect of Adelan. Anwen brushed off it:

Here sleeps Qokagax
Who seared the green hills
Who devoured the wizard-king
Show him your fire
May the worthy drink of his ever-burning spirit

[Eckhart_Von_Musel]

Molly exhaled, stepping aside to let the others pass her. Between that owl and the blonde warrior- who had already begun to babble again- she could tell that this assignment was going to be a long one. When the last of them had past, she too would ascend the catwalk towards the mouth of the cave.

As she listened to Anwen read the inscription, the ranger would rest her hand on the pommel of her blade. It shifted in her grip, as if trying to point itself in the direction of the unlit braizier. Molly frowned. "Yeah..." she thought, pursing her lips. "Because that's totally not a trap."

She kept this thought to herself, however, instead turning to look at the old wizard. As the one with an actual stake in this expedition, his judgment was what she was interested in learning...

[Imperfect_M]

Tee-kup had floated down near the mouth, four-foot wizard stick for her three foot form at the ready. She quietly tapped her foot and fidgeted her thumb across one of the sigils on her staff. Stress, nerves, excitement, and a distinct impatience had put her in a bad headspace. If Serish were here, they'd be halfway done with exploring the tomb by now and probably had shared a few laughs on top of it all. She was beginning to think that exploring this tomb for the Academy sounded too good to be true.

Hoot clacked his beak in annoyance. The owl was much better at hiding his emotions than the master who shared part of his soul. The Goblin had conjured up her usual oversized wizard hat and dipped the brim over her eyes. She was grinding her teeth and practically gnashing at the bit. If there was one thing Tee-kup hated more than being bothered when she was trying to study, it was pompous old fools who dismissed their peers. The only thing keeping Tee-kup from quite literally exploding was most likely Hoot's sense of decorum and reason. But it wouldn't last. Tee-kup needed a distraction before she up and blew.

Hoot took a short flight and touched down next to Llewellyn. "Hello, friend and peer," greeted the tawny owl, "I don't believe we've meet. I'm Hoot, familiar to Tee-kup. I apologize for my master's... Mood. She typically does not take well to crowds, but her love of exploring seems to have overridden her better judgement. But-! The two of us are curious: What's your story, friend?"

[Yeti]

That grey, bald fellow left a bad taste in Llewellyn's mouth. Like the aftertaste of tepid, spoiled milk. Llewellyn had yet to formally meet all of the Magisters within Wyrdwood's halls. Surely he'd heard of Maergath, but only in his specialty in dealings with manipulation beyond the veil. If any personable side dwelt beyond the negativity radiating from his words, it was very good at slinking just out of sight.

Stepping past Molly, Llewellyn walked on all fours to cross the catwalk. Two legs was good for level surfaces; The last thing he wanted was to trip and end the whole adventure so soon. Once he reached the mouth itself, he waited for the rest to join, eyeing the brazier. He tapped his pocket spellbook, hidden under the star-patterned folds of his cloak, thinking of whether or not to offer a fire spell to light it. The fact he hesitated told he didn't fully trust it.

The goblin nearby looked as though she might light it simply from the steam coming out her ears. It was a relief that the owl had chosen to break the silence.

"Ah, well met. I am Magister Llewellyn. It's a privilege working with you and your wizard." He almost offered to shake hands, but realized it was better not to. "I'm afraid it's a somewhat downer one, friend. And much too long at present! But if it's worth one pip, I am honored to be here now... even if that means standing inside of a, well, 'dragon's' throat."

"And yourself? What brings you two here?"

[Whim]

Anwen frowned. She wanted to correct the Hoot and say Llewellyn was a magister. Peer was certainly not the right word. But the baboon seemed unbothered by the misunderstanding. Would he be upset if Anwen implied the familiar was not his a mage's peer? It was quite a delicate situation, easy going as the baboon was.

"The way I read this is there's a ghost or psychic imprint of the dragon left behind. I would suppose lighting this means we're going to have a little talk with him. I-" she hesitated a moment. Everyone but her seemed lost in their own little world. Weighty decisions rarely fell to her. "I think we could learn more communing with a dead dragon than trying to piece together scraps of everything. But trying to remove artifacts from the tomb, study it anatomically, might be a bit harder. Thoughts?"

Her gaze fell to Maergath, Llewellyn, and Molly. And Hoot. It did at least have a scholarly sort of bearing.

"I think whatever ghost a dragon leaves behind is going to be insufferable. Will it accost you with apparitions the entire way, and at the very bottom blather about how such trials have taught you all you need to know? Probably." He twirled his cane dismissively. "But yes, light it if you want, story to tell your children in a few years. And I would hate to think the six of you could not overcome some asinine proving ritual. Dragons. Just what do dragon riders do at that? Most are not mages. Plink little arrows into the men its roasted? Scratch its back?"

Her gaze lingered on the rest for input. She was never sure if he was entirely serious.

***

Ollie stood dutifully with a title pad and stylus, ready and eager to draw maps. No one seemed very interested in what he thought. It was to be expected, but it all very lonely. Karuuthux was not even rambling. His sword should have had a lot to say about this place, but had been worryingly silent. The boy sidled over to the floating goblin as the others chatted, hoping to catch a glimpse of what she was reading. Maybe strike up a conversation...

[Eckhart_Von_Musel]

Molly snorted with laughter at the magister's quip, a smile forming on her face. Not because the old wizard was particularly funny, mind you- it was more to do with the percieved randomness of his tangent than anything. What did dragon riders have to do with anything?

"Well..." she said, placing her hand on her weapon once more. "My sword is pointing us to the torch thingy, so..."

[Imperfect_M]

Tee-kup had floated down from where she was, and it seemed like the only thing that the little pile of robes, hat, and wizard-staff did to register Ollie's presence was an ever-so-slight shift of the hat's orientation. Beneath the hat, her too-large golden eyes had gone aglow with burning, shifting shades of red and orange like firelight. She clenched and unclenched her jaw as a deadly cocktail of anxiety and frustration set in. What were they doing standing around and quipping at one-another like that? She wondered. What was this? Some kind of academic pissing contest between an old bastard that Death forgot to kill and his peers? Was there a memo or an unspoken culture rule that Tee-kup hadn't been told? It set her blood to boil and it made her miss Serish all the more. Disgusting creatures... Stupid stupid stupid stupid-

She heard Ollie make some noise as if he was attempting to start a conversation, but had trouble finding the right greeting. Her ears twitched and perked up. What was she thinking about again? Oh right. Disgusting pissing contests. But before her stood this young man barely into adulthood; and he seemed like a decent, much less annoying sort. She only had a glimpse of his shins and feet, and so her neck craned and her gaze traveled up. And up. And up. Until she was staring eyes a-glowing at Ollie's visage. She said nothing, but whatever boiling rage on her face had up and evaporated into an inquisitive but pointed stare; much like a cat studying an object it had never seen. There was no malice in her expression, though being stared at by those large, golden eyes of hers may have made the exchange that much more awkward...

- - - - - - - - - -
Meanwhile...

"Our story? Well, simply put..." Hoot mused, "My master enjoys ruin-delving, despite the dangers therein. Usually she does this with our friend, but it seems that miss Serish had to go on a personal errand. Though it appears that Tee-kup is not enjoying some of our company. Excuse me just a moment."

Hoot directed his attention to Anwen and straightened his posture. Not that it meant much given how he was still the size of a barn owl, but it gave him a slightly more regal air. "Communicating with the fallen dragon would be most efficient, though in that regard one should be ready with an offering or at least some method of apologizing to an ancient spirit that you've entered unannounced and maybe destroyed half their things," Hoot explained, "Perhaps if one was able to research what the dragon in particular enjoyed in life, that would make them much more open to speaking, rather than simply berating us for barging into their resting place."

- - - - - - - - - -

Tee-kup ran out of patience. Without breaking eye contact with Ollie, the Goblin tapped the butt of her staff against the ground. The sound was much louder than it should have been, the wood echoing through the age-old stones. But with the clack of her staff, the straw in the brazier was immediately set alight. If they lived, they lived. If they died... Well... Tee-kup would have something to say about that first.

[Yeti]

Well, that had been a risky move.

A small hoot of surprise from Llewellyn could be heard and he stepped aside from the owl as the brazier whooshed to life, a sudden flame conjured up from the goblin who'd been not too far from the two familiars. "Does she always jump into things like this?" He couldn't help but ask aloud.

Then again, it had sounded like almost everyone was in agreement about it. She had simply expedited that decision.

That ominous feeling soon returned to Llewellyn though, like static running down his fur. Despite not yet seeing it, he was pretty certain that it'd not be long before something would happen. Whether or not it'd help their efforts in this excavation had yet to be seen.

He slipped open the pocket spellbook at his hip, rapidly thumbing through and quickly muttering an incantation for Draconic translation. Best to be prepared now that they couldn't help it.

[Whim]

"According to old tales Qokagax had numerous scrapes cities who did not to submit to worship. Quite the terror, really. But considering thousands of years have passed, its dead, and how time tends to muddle facts I would not put much stock into that. And this is the research." She laughed sharply as the brazier jumped to life. "I'd hoped to weigh the risks and benefits of potentially angering it versus having a very pleasant and enlightening conversation. But I guess we're all confident."

"Pfah! The etching is not that opaque, is it? Green hills. Altas Verde. Wizard king. That's us. Show us your fire. Inane blathering blathering about how he's going to eat unworthy Adelan younglings. He's going to be disagreeable. All the more reason to make him watch while we plunder whatever scraps of primitive mysticism and psychic lore we please. That's what this is really about" he muttered, remaining on the bridge. "I'll be here to organize an extraction should you stumble into some devious trap. Mordecaism is psychic itself, you know. Though I am hoping our legendary hero here, and our little helpers, will crush whatever opposition you and Magister Llewellyn face. Twenty four hours before I go looking. The goblin's bird can tell me if you need longer."

"Thank you, Professor..." Anwen shot an uncertain glance to Hoot and Molly, wondering if the owl would agree. And with that the sorceress extended her hand, and a tiny glow-worm sprang from her fingertips. The little creature inched its way up her shoulder. She began her descent...

***

Ollie jumped with a start as the brazier roared to life. He supposed wizards were more used to things just happening. He was not. The boy did a double check of his pack, which was filled to the brim with rope, pitons, and other tools. It had occurred to him they might be using him as a pack mule, but he was nonetheless determined to do a good job mapping and so he began to draw.

The dragon's throat was a wide passage that sloped into the mountainside. It was roughly cut from the stone and resembled a cave more than anything furnished. It was large enough, surely, for a dragon to pass. The wall was adorned with crude murals: rows of kneeling figures before a dragon spitting fire; a singular small creature with a crown of fire seated beside a sleeping dragon; more rows of humans this time with wings. This was all visible in the light of the now-lit sconces bracketed into the stone.

[Eckhart_Von_Musel]

Molly watched as the goblin lit the flame, lips pursed. "Welp," she thought, glancing back towards the entrance of the cave. "So much for stealth."

Shooting one last look at the ancient wizard, Molly would begin to descend down the shadowy passage. The old man's decision to hang back felt weird to her- uncomfortably weird. Was it just because of what Lady Feyel had told her? The ranger grimaced, gripping the hilt of her blade. In the end, she supposed, it didn't matter why.

Slowing down, Molly studied the carvings on the wall. Ancient ruins like this would sometimes leave "clues" for anybody who dared to explore them- clues that would lead to traps and dead ends, usually. She paused, focusing on a mural depicting a crowned person next to what she assumed was Qokogax himself. "Hey, guys..." she said, eyes narrowing. "Any of you know who this is supposed to be?"

[Imperfect_M]

A thousand situations, a thousand more outcomes. Tee-kup's mind had a habit of running away from her, but an overactive imagination did wonders for planning ahead on short notice. No shade nor wraiths poured from the now-open "throat" of the tomb, no rumbling bellow of a ghost bidding them to entry, and no trapspring sounded its tell-tale firing. Tee-kup's ears twitched a moment as she stared intently into the darkness, listening as air rushed into the now-open tomb. She listened to it as it passed over seal and stone... But nothing out of the ordinary.

Tee-kup was hardly paying attention to the conversation around her, but a gentle shift in Hoot's senses forcefully grabbed hold of the Goblin's own. Enough to catch Maergath say, "The Goblin's bird can tell me if you need longer."

Normally, on any other day, at any other time, Hoot would be Tee-kup's voice of reason. But- for the briefest of moments- the tawny owl's composure wavered. Hoot lost control of his own emotions for a tiny splinter of a second; the only thing giving it away being a slight twitch in his beak. Tee-kup- in that same splinter of a second- lost the only leash keeping her in check. Her gold irises went the red-orange of hot coals, reflected by the same color flashing across Hoot's own visage. But just like that, they returned to their normal gold as Hoot found his mental footing.

The owl buffeted his wings and soared to land on Tee-kup's shoulder, tucking his head under the brim of her too-large hat.

"Bold of you to attempt to give me an order," the owl stated dismissively at Maergath, each syllable neatly clipped.

The Goblin wizard, with her familiar nuzzling her cheek, huffed out a plume of blackened coal smoke to soothe her ire and descended down alongside Molly, Anwen, Ollie, and Llewellyn. As Serish would put it, Time to go to work. She didn't need any assistance seeing in the dark; at least not yet. Her pupils dilated like that of a cat's as they adjusted to the ever-encroaching darkness. Crude murals of dragons and their servants... Perhaps even recreations of events in Qokagax's own life.

"Hey guys," Molly called as she stood in front of one of the murals, "Any of you know who this is supposed to be?"

Tee-kup hurriedly approached, eyes sweeping over the mural as both she and Hoot examined the mural together. A figure adorned with a crown of fire situated next to a sleeping dragon. The other murals depicted what appeared to be worship of the dragon, and then rows of winged Humanoids. The Goblin idly chewed her lip as she searched for worn inscriptions amidst the murals, be they in ancient Draconic or in old Serenian. Tee-kup knew them both and searched for a hidden meaning, or at the very least a description.

Hoot and Tee-kup traded glaces, shrugging here and there as they continued their examination.