She moved there, and looked around, feeling the walls, stone cool underneath her hands. Semari’s stumbling, irregular footsteps approached from behind, before she slammed against the wall, just about staying standing. There was a harsh, grinding noise, a panel in the wall, hidden in the darkest corner, sliding open. The place was probably ridden with hidden passages and secret tunnels – for the use of servants to discreetly appear, if nothing else. The others gathered around.

‘Anyone find anything else?’ They all shook their heads. ‘Into there then. I’ll go fast, Semari next. Janaxia, can you actually do anything here?’

‘The power of this place is currently binding me. That man dancing with Carissa, I don’t suppose…’

It really wasn’t the time to indulge Janaxia’s romantic ramblings, so Stathis cut her off. ‘Right, you stay behind Semari, in front of Parth. Try and find a stick or something, so you can at least smack someone if needed.’

Given that Janaxia’s first response was to look at her nails, it seemed that it would be unwise to rely on her for anything useful, at least unless they managed to get outside of the supressing aura. Although all of them except Semari were more vulnerable without powers or armour, and Semari currently needed a wall to keep standing.

They stepped into the darkness, the panel clicking shut beneath them, immediately silencing the noise of the party. Stathis drew her sword, advancing slowly with one hand on the wall, trying to keep some sense of direction. Parth was as silent as ever, but Semari’s uneven, rolling steps, and the clicking of Janaxia’s heels against the floor, were both decidedly lacking in stealth.

She advanced as quickly as she dared, the stone wall curving and twisting, corridor barely a single person wide – from the lack of lighting or any other access points, it seemed unlikely to be a servant’s tunnel. As there was no resistance, Stathis set a rapid pace, moving as fast as possible, everyone managing to keep up.

After a sharp corner, a light shone in the near distance, the flickering orange of an actual fire, rather than the chill, constant glare of a magical light. Stathis raised her palm behind herself, signalling for silence. There was a sqawk of alarm as Semari immediately walked straight into her hand, bouncing off, banging her head on the wall and rubbing the resulting scratch.

‘Semari, are you going to be able to scout? There’s a fire ahead.’

Semari blinked at her, before sliding against the wall while managing to give a wobbly thumbs-up, before slowly leveraging herself back to standing. She padded towards the light, footsteps suddenly quieter, even as she leant against the wall for a moment to catch her breath before advancing again. As she approached the fire and vanished out of sight, there was a cry of alarm, followed by a loud crash and a thud. Stathis charged, blade at the ready.

The torch lit a small and bare stone chamber. Semari was rubbing her fist, with a humanoid figure lying on the floor, unconscious, beneath a large dent knocked into the wall above them - Semari must have hit them hard enough to knock them into the wall. Leaving Semari to stare into space and hopefully not throw up (she was looking a touch green), Stathis went to investigate the body.

It was a young man, still alive, although would probably be very bruised and sore. Their skin was an unhealthy looking pasty grey colour, although their pulse was strong and (aside from being unconscious) they seemed largely intact. His clothing was obviously very expensive, everything of fine silk or samite, fingers dripping with jewellery, his neatly trimmed black hair strung with silver chains, glyph-inscribed gemstones as extra ornamentation. He was armed with a shortsword, a simple thing of stark utility, bereft of any decoration.

‘Janaxia, any idea who this is?’ She quickly patted him down for anything useful, feeling a tinge of regret at leaving his jewellery behind, but without any idea what was going on, robbing him blind probably wasn’t acceptable. Janaxia looked down at him with a look of mild disgust. ‘Well? Someone you recognise?’

‘Oh no. No, I would never associate with such an individual. Wearing those trousers with that shirt, and those rings? Heavens, no. There are standards to be maintained, after all!’ She sounded genuinely disgusted. ‘All money and no taste, or he’s borrowed the tailoring of another – his clothing is meant to be tight, not loose and ill-fitting, see?’ Compared to Janaxia’s own clothing, it was indeed loose and baggy, although virtually anything would be. ‘Anyway, how do you know Carissa? She does have…’

Stathis ignored her as she checked the unconscious body – the only thing he was carrying, other than jewellery and (apparently) irredeemably unfashionable clothing was a brass medallion, a half-palm sized disc, the surface covered with dozens of interlocking symbols, studded with strange studs and lumps. The metal was common brass, but the design made it seem important – maybe it was a key, or a group marker or something? She handed it over to Janaxia, who looked at her, then it, in bemusement, having no pockets, or even a belt pouch.

‘Carry the torch in one hand, and that in the other. He must be carrying it for a reason, and it might be useful. Unless you would rather take his sword?’ The prospect of having to get personally involved in combat focused Janaxia’s mind as expected, and she took the disc and torch, holding the torch as far away as possible, wanting to avoid getting any ash or smoke onto her clothing. Or possibly her outfit was particularly vulnerable to flame. Either way, at least she was contributing now, as she took position at the back, so that Parth wasn’t blinded by the torch. And keeping her from asking any more awkward questions – Gods, why couldn’t her sister be less of a pain in the ass? It was bad enough that she was a powerful and respected adventurer, but this just made it personal.

Before leaving, Parth took the standard precautions, tying and gagging the unconscious man, in case he recovered. From past experience, carrying an unconscious body was far more trouble than it was worth, and having someone raise the alarm always caused problems.

With a light, it became a lot easier to progress, even if stealth was more of a hope than anything they could attempt. Parth crouched, checking the dust and dirt on the ground.

‘Five people. One unwilling.’

They were on the right track then. As they progressed, the walls changed from dressed stone to bare rock, tunnel snaking and twisting, more tunnels branching away, as Parth followed the tracks. Without someone to follow, this would be a labyrinth, probably with horrible monsters somewhere. Was this going to be another murder-cult thing? Why could it never just be normal thugs looking for a ransom, it always had to be some weird underground murder-cult looking to resurrect their dead god or whatever. She tilted her head, listening for any eldritch chanting or ominous hymns to dread entities from beyond the realms of reality. All she could hear was Janaxia’s shoes – very much not designed for stealth, although, in this case, she was very much not dressed for combat, or anything particularly useful, really. Experimentally, she reached inwards for the shard of divine power nestled within her, only to find it still blocked.

Further into the tunnel, it suddenly opened into a cavern, niches in the walls filled with huge stone urns. Despite her drunken state, Semari jumped up, managing it on the second try, pulling herself up to look into one of them, stumbling as she dropped back down, scraping against it to steady herself.

‘Bodies. Old and dusty. Like, all fallen apart and blech!’

Probably some ‘honourable ancestors’ or something. If they were that fallen apart, they were probably not going to attack, if they could even get out of the jars. Still, by uneven, flickering torch light, it was somewhat unnerving, and the air was starting to grow chill. How deep did this place go? The dome above was from centuries ago, if not older, so how old was the stuff beneath it? If this thing went much deeper, they’d be knocking on the doors of the underworld!

A sudden skittering, hissing noise sounded ahead of them, a giant caterpillar-like bug, easily the size of a man, scuttling into view, countless legs jerking and twitching, pallid tendrils flicking through the air, its segmented body already bearing several injuries, oozing lurid green ichor allowing with a rancid smell. Semari threw up behind her, the scent of vomit strangely better than the bone-dry scent of dust. The beast turned towards them with more odd clicking noises, feelers licking the air, before a streak shot past Stathis from behind, a knife embedding itself within the creature. It gave a squeal of pain, and then attacked, moving with surprising speed, throwing itself forward.

Stathis stepped back, foot sliding on Semari’s spew just before the beast barrelled into her, a tentacle cutting across her arm, cooling and numbing it. She pressed forward, shifting to her other arm and stabbing, the thing screeching and oozing green-ish ichor from the wound. Another knife flew past her, one of the countless eyes the thing had erupting into goo and pus, triggering another screech of pain.

She swung her sword, trying to buy some time and fend off the tentacles, managing to slice through another one. Then Semari bundled past her, without any subtlety, simply grabbing the tentacles in one hand and punching with the other. It tried to retreat, screeching in pain and confusion, even as Semari splatted out another eye, splashing herself with ichor. Stathis moved in and helped, thrusting into its body, hoping it had a heart or something else that could be injured to take it down.

Eventually, it died, falling to the ground in a puddle of ichor, bug guts and vomit. Semari stumbled backwards with an unsettling grin, her arms covered in thin scratches from the thing’s attacks, even as they hung limply at her sides.

‘Hehe, I’m numb!’ She twisted her entire torso, making her arms fly from the momentum. ‘No feeling.’ Then she threw up again, leaning her head against the wall and panting in breath. Stathis approached and carefully poked her arms – they were chill and limp, even if the injuries weren’t that serious. Well, that was Semari out of any more fighting. Her own arm felt weak and partially numbed, but she had some movement.

A horrendous crunching noise started behind her, as Parth started cutting apart the corpse, siphoning off some of the venom or poison or whatever it was. Her task wasn’t helped by Janaxia, and the torch, standing a good ten or more paces away, a look of disgust on her face.

‘Any idea how long it’s going to last? Semari’s barely functional.’ She at least seemed to be enjoying the sensation, twisting her body around to make her arms move, giggling faintly between coughing and spitting, trying to clear the taste of spew from her mouth.

‘Brief.’

‘Is that a few minutes, or a few hours? There’s still whoever else is down here, and Janaxia’s useless unless they want to discuss fashion.’

‘Between.’

‘Great, anything to cure it?’

Parth held a hand out, muttering a charm under her breath as her fingers moved through an elaborate pattern. Nothing happened, then she shook her head.

‘We really need to hope we get out from this damn aura sooner rather than later! Fine, everyone ready to move on?’