Peering from a window on the city side of the Naga-crafted canyon, a gray-cloaked Shiga peers into the yawning divide with a scope of some sort. His movements suggest he's not just sightseeing, but using broad sweeps to search for something very specific.

The moat of serpents almost seems to move in subtle waves, but not deep enough to obscure a gaping, partially broken archway that leads into the base of the wall on the other side of the moat. Stone Creen guardians on either side have been so heavily weathered away that they would not be recognizable as such, except to one who has viewed diagrams in books that show the former glory of what was once the entryway into the treasure room of the Emperor-Potentate … either the present one, or one of his predecessors. In either case, this entryway has been long neglected. Presumably it has not been used by the proper agents in countless years.

"There, Celine." The Shiga points down at the entry way, not taking his eye off the scope. "Right there. Do you see it? With a couple Creens on it."

A female Naga, dressed in supple leather armor, peers down a scope of her own, this one attached to a good-sized crossbow. Towering behind the two, a muscular Rokuga quadruped peers over them, squinting without benefit of the magnifying lenses.

Celine nods. "I think I can get a solid anchor. How long are we to wait here for you?"

The other reptile rubs his chin. "For as long as you can manage. Though figure if it takes me longer than the night and another day, I'm probably dead."

The cloaked Shiga judges the distance, then begins fiddling with a pulley attached to a rope. "This is just recon anyway … couldn't be any worse than the Temple for a living legend, right?" The Wooden Shekel grins wryly, though the expression seems forced.

The two other lizards just look at each other, and don't venture any answer other than polite nods.

Bambridge peers out the window again, squinting. "It's just about dusk.Aunwin, secure the pulley rope. Celine, you may fire when ready."

Aunwin sets to work, while Celine carefully lines up for her shot … and with a soft *thwing*, fires a bolt and a slender cable across the moat. The zolken cable is nearly invisible, and stained jet black to make it all the more so. Despite how thin it is, it is quite strong enough to handle several times the weight of a Shiga and his equipment.

The shadowy Shiga follows the path of the grapnel as best he can with his scope.

The grapnel has imbedded itself at the keystone of the Creen-arch, just above the broken entrance.

Bambridge makes a satisfied grunting noise, and tugs the line to be sure the hook is firmly in place. "Excellent shot, Celine."

Celine gives Bambridge a cocky serpentine "smile". The line is quite secure, and Aunwin secures an anchor for the opposite end.

With the pulley assemblage in place, the Wooden Shekel braces himself in the sill, going over a mental checklist of his equipment. "Well, wish me luck! If I don't make it back … well, I'm sure the will I left behind will take care of things." He gives his two cohorts a smirk. "And don't go yanking the line, because neither of you are in it. See you soon, I hope." With that, the lizard inches to the edge, then trusts his life to a few centimeters of cord.

A blur of writhing serpentine forms whisks by, far below, coming closer and closer as Bambridge makes his descent. In fact, the slack in the cord makes it seem for a heart-gripping moment that perhaps he will end up right in the midst of those vipers! But, no, he slides cleanly over the reptiles, his momentum taking him to dip back upward toward the keystone. Just inside the portal, he can see stone tiles swarming with vipers … and then a glint of something sharp beyond.

Bambridge applies the brake to his pulley as close as he can to the keystone, and reaches out to grab at the arch. He simply hangs there for a while, staring down at the slithering mass of scales and venom. "Hmm. This is going to be much harder than I thought." He leaves the brake on, then hooks a strap of his harness over the line so he can free his hands, occasionally glancing at the serpents below and the opening. "Maybe I should have considered a snake-boat, or something."

The serpents writhe before, claiming anything that would otherwise provide solid footing below. Inside, the tunnel widens into a chamber that has a low ceiling – one which never rises above that of the tunnel, apparently – the floor of which is comprised of countless sharp spikes. A few serpents are impaled upon the spikes, and here and there some dried skins and bones attest to older victims that managed to get further in before dropping into who-knows-what far below. There is an acrid smell in the air that could make one dizzy if one were to breathe it in for too long.

It would be especially hard on those of small bodies and high metabolisms. Indeed, the snakes closest to the spike pit seem more lethargic and less responsive.

Dangling from the line, the Wooden Shekel produces a fire-stick, and proceeds to attempt to light a torch from his precarious position without setting his cloak on fire.

The torch lights with a minimum of fuss. Apparently the vapors rising from the pit of spikes are NOT flammable. In the illumination, it's easier to see the expanse of the chamber, which leads to a doorway on the other side. The doorway is NOT perfectly lined up, however, for whatever reason, despite the tendency toward symmetry in most Palace construction here in Nagai City.

The ceiling is slick and wet-looking, and exudes the unpleasant odor as well.

Bambridge ponders this, blinking away the dizziness he occasionally feels from where he hangs. He peers down, then waves his torch at the vipers to see if he can get a response.

The response is very sluggish. Many of the serpents are actually dead, and haven't been swallowed up by their comrades yet.

"Ah… hah." The Wooden Shekel doesn't look at all pleased with this revelation, but takes to scooping dead and practically dead snakes away with his torch, until he can clear enough of a path to get down. "The fumes must have poisoned them all," he muses. "I'll have to make my investigation quick." As an afterthought, he wraps the neck of his cloak over his nose in what he hopes is a sort of makeshift filter. Taking a deep breath, he holds it, and lets himself down to go look at the 'floor' of nails.

The material that the nails are fashioned from is hard to identify. It might be metal, or perhaps some exceptionally long barbs of chitin. In either case, the spikes are covered with some sort of greenish, flaky coating. Any one of them would be sharp enough to impale a Shiga easily. Only by distributing one's weight across the spikes would one have hope of slithering across the obstacle. Unless, that is, one were brave enough to try to squeeze between the spikes into the unseen and actual floor far below … but the greenish mists obscure a view of just how far down that might be … and what might be waiting at the bottom.

Bambridge quickly takes a scarf from his cloak, and swipes at the fluid on the ceiling, his cheeks puffed from holding his breath in.

The scarf blackens as the fluid stains the fabric, and vapors start rising from the scarf as the acid eats its way through.

The Shiga hurriedly drops the scarf, turning blue. Whether from lack of oxygen, or surprise, it's unclear… but for whatever reason he's changing color, he hurries back outside to take a gasping breath.

The air, despite the stench of the moat, is a refreshing change, relatively free of the haze of the spike room.

A more casual observation of the spikes is possible after a breath of fresh air. The spikes vary widely in spacing, some as far as two meters apart, most perhaps half a meter apart from each other. Toward the walls of the room, the spikes are more closely packed.

Bambridge looks the spikes over again warily, and tries to pick out a path along the most densely clustered ones. While he does this, he retrieves some blocks of wood from his pack, affixing some to his feet with straps, and holding a pair in either hand.

The reptile then takes a deep breath. He raises the collar of his cloak over his nose in a token gesture against the fumes from the pit, and then goes to all fours to begin his crawl along his chosen path.

The spikes vary greatly in sharpness. Some have decayed enough that the points crack and crumble, requiring fast reptilian reflexes to avoid slipping and causing a very quick close to this particular tale. Sometimes the blocks actually get stuck on a spike, requiring more effort to pull them off and resume. Some of the spikes are fairly dull (or are so after losing the tip in one of the aforementioned misadventures). It is very slow, tedious going … and despite the precautions, these fumes are starting to get to the Shiga. Especially unnerving is how DARK it is getting. There aren't, after all, any light sources in here, and the entrance to the moat is some distance back.

Bambridge's muzzy mind tries to stay focused. "Remember… remember which ones're… dull… " He coughs a few times, his makeshift filter not seeming to help much, and wishes he'd lit a candle before going in. "Too far to turn back now."

Still, the lizard continues his advance as best he can.

The effort seems to take forever … but at last the lizard passes the last spike … onto solid, stone ground. The floor is very cold, but a quick test reveals that it doesn't have any of that dreadful "dew" clinging to it. And the air seems to clear up ahead … somewhere in the darkness.

Bambridge scrabbles forward with an almost frantic effort to get at the fresh air… and promptly skids and face-plants on the smooth stone as the wood blocks remind him they're still on his feet. He takes a moment to remove his safety gear before moving to the cooler air, fumbling through his cloak for a match and candle in an effort to bring some light to the drear.

The lizard hears a soft "schuss" sound from the left, and a creak somewhere far above.

Bambridge abruptly changes his tack, and falls backward with a sharp hiss of alarm! A corner of his cape sticks out for a moment in the spot he occupied.

*schuss* There's a slight tug on Bambridge's cape, but it quickly releases. In the following silence, a very faint sound can be heard … of a scrap of fabric landing on the stone floor.

The Shiga sits up again, shaking hands moving to light his candle, then groping for the end of his cape to examine how clean the cut was. "Predictable or no, thank the ones on high I remembered that particular nasty surprise… "

A few pulled threads and jagged rips attest that the blade that caught the cape does not possess awe-inspiring sharpness. But it would be quite sufficient to end the life of a would-be trespasser. In the flickering candle-light, a great shadow can be seen swinging back from the right … a pendulum blade, its point of suspension hidden far above in a groove cut in the ceiling of the chamber to allow its movement. The corridor continues further, but is blocked by another blade … this one stationary, resting at the bottom of its swing.

Bambridge eyes the moving blade, and watches long enough to pass it by when it sweeps back up into a position to return. Rather than passing the stationary one, however, he looks it over, trying to see up to the ceiling to see if there's a mechanism that failed to keep it swinging like the first.

It's hard to tell what might be up there. The groove is wide enough to allow the arm holding the blade to move freely, and for the blade to sweep up on its passes to one end of the corridor and the other … but the hinge, far above, gives no clue as to what mechanism might provoke it to move. Whatever it is, it's not doing its job presently. The blade blocks a good portion of the corridor, but it is still possible to squeeze past. Given the accumulation of cobwebs, mold and debris, it looks as if the blade has not moved from its current resting position for a very long time.

The Shiga ponders the ancient mechanism. "Must be a forgotten room up in the palace it was maintained from. Hmm." With more important work at hand, however, the Shiga gives up his musings and tries to hoist himself over the blunt back of the blade to continue on to the other side.

It's an uncomfortable squeeze, but the Shiga gets through. On the other side, he encounters a stationary blade just like this one. It is easily traversed in like fashion, and so is the stationary blade past it. The fourth blade, however, appears to be the last.

A stone archway marks the end of the corridor, carved to resemble several intertwining Nagas that collectively hold up a sign with some faded writing that might possibly say something about "Beware" and "Death" and "Forbidden".

Bambridge pauses for a moment at the doorway, holding his breath to listen carefully.

There's a quiet *schuss* and creak of the one functional pendulum blade behind the Shiga … but nothing discernable up ahead.

Content that nothing's going to leap at him just yet, the reptile peers into the doorway.

Beyond the doorway is a circular chamber, covered with tiles that form a mosaic pattern that resembles twined coils of a serpent … as if this room were formed by a hollow space encapsulated by a great Naga's coils. The head cannot be seen, but the tip of the tail is in the dead center of the chamber. Another doorway – with an archway exactly like the one the Shiga is at – is at the opposite side of the chamber.

"This must be the first guardian," Bambridge thinks to himself. "Time for the test." Going back into his equipment, he produces a partitioned box, and lays it down in the doorway. Slowly and carefully, he opens one of the sections to look into it. "I hope the gas didn't kill them."

Beady little red eyes glint back at Bambridge. No, this gas doesn't seem to be as effective on the vermites as it was on the serpents at the entrance. Hardy little pests.

The burglar grins. "All right, you little buggers. Time to earn those chunks of flesh you bit out of me a couple days ago." He lays the box on its side, facing the chamber, and leaves the partition for one of the vermites open. He waits behind the box to shoo it into the chamber if it decides to turn around.

The vermite requires only a little encouragement to skitter on into the chamber. It carries itself on its tiny six feet, meandering this way and that, occasionally starting to head up the side of the bowl-shaped floor … but then curving back down again. At first, it seems only a trick of the light … but it seems as if the tiles are moving … no … they're scales. And those patterns … those coils…

In a smooth motion, the mosaic patterns of the tiles give way to a very alive mass of massive, constricting coils that writhe, and pull inward. A shadow can be seen of something dipping down from the ceiling … but then all view of the interior of the chamber is lost as the archway is blocked by scales.

And then … they retract. There is no sign of the great snake, except for the patterns of the tiles. And as for the vermite … well … there's just a spot where it was last.

Just a bowl-floored, stone chamber, tiled with a mosaic pattern again.

A profoundly disturbed Shiga stares at the spot where the vermite was with morbid fascination. "Great galloping Dagh in a tutu."

Bambridge hunches over next to his box of vermites, his brow furrowing and a finger scratching his head as he thinks. "What to do… what to do… hmm… "

Strapped for ideas, the reptile hoists himself to his feet to backtrack to the hall full of pendulums. "That brute of a room is alive, I think," he ponders aloud. "I bet I could sneak right over him, but if I could fix him for good, I could get Long-Lope back out through there." The inkling of a notion forms in his head, but he begins rooting around the hall to find a missing link.

The stationary blades have, collected on their surfaces, a mish-mash of cobwebs, dust, crumbled stone, dirt … powdered bone, flaky bits of snakeskin, and other remains of not-so-fortunate adventurers.

There are also shattered remains of the equipment of the aforementioned victims. Most of it is beyond any imaginable use. There is what looks like a wooden dagger that must have been treated with some sort of preservative to have lasted this long here. There are also little chitin bits – fasteners, buckles, etc. – that are all that remain of packs and clothing of the departed treasure-seekers. Not a single shekel turns up, though.

The lizard picks amongst the remains distastefully. Ignoring the rest of the disappointing finds, he fetches up the wooden dagger to look it over.

The wooden dagger is dark-stained, though nearly white in places from wear and decay. The grain of its surface is pock-marked with circular patterns, each of which would typically indicate a branch growing from the original wood. The wrappings fall apart, and the cross-piece is already broken. The "blade" itself hasn't much at all in the way of an edge. It's certainly not a weapon of choice, when chitin could do the job much better in most cases.

Bambridge tests the point with the tip of his finger. "Phoo. I don't think this thing could fend off a yiffle. I bet my little utility knife'd be better… tsh, but I want to keep that." He ponders the blade for a few moments, then wanders back to the chamber of spikes to scoop at the deadly dew on the ceiling and walls.

The dew starts making crackling and popping noises as it etches its way slowly into the wood. It doesn't do any discernable damage so far, except to whiten the surface further.

"Well, well, well." The cogs turning in Bambridge's head grind so much, they're nearly audible.

The Wooden Shekel, having enough of scrounging, returns to the room filled with the great coils. He takes a deep breath. "There's no way around this, Bambridge. It's do or… it's just 'do', dammit." Slowly, his scales begin shifting to match the room's pattern. As he ponders the match, he eyes the box of vermites. "You guys are going to help me, though."

Bambridge bundles his cloak to hook on the chest of his harness, leaving gear associated with the path of spikes behind so as not to weigh him down. He opens another vermite cell to shoo one into the chamber like before, then prowls after it, taking a route opposite to it.

The vermite skitters into the chamber, following a path similar to the one before … namely that it follows no real rhyme or reason. Meanwhile, the lizard manages to creep along, his own hide providing an ideal cover so long as he does his best to move in paths along the curvature of the "coils". A glance at the ceiling reveals that the pattern does indeed reach its apex in a mosaic representation of a serpent, mouth closed, gazing down with eyes made of some sort of crystal.

The pattern of the coils seems to shift, and it takes an effort for the Shiga not to be revealed … but it all happens so quickly that he hardly has time to react anyway. He briefly hears a shriek from the vermite, as the smooth tiles suddenly become solid coils … and the whole room spins and contorts! The stealthy lizard is buffeted by the movement of the scales … but when the room resolves itself again, it is apparent that he has been spared. The vermite, however … Well, there are now two little stains on the mosaic floor now.

A somewhat dazed burglar tries to collect himself enough to move the rest of the way out of the room. "Now I know what a rattler Naga's tail-beads feel like."

The archway provides a welcome escape from the chamber, but there is darkness beyond … for the flickering light of the candle remaining across the Watcher's chamber is not enough to illuminate far beyond.

Bambridge unfurls his somewhat abused cloak again, and rummages around for another candle and match to inspect his surroundings with.

The candle illuminates a short corridor, which leads up to another archway, much like the one Bambridge just came through. This has another faded warning, a little more ominous, since the serpents entwining the archway this time are skeletal. The inscription is no more legible, though, though the gist can be guessed at from the context. Death, go away, beware, etc.

Beyond that is another room roughly shaped like a squashed sphere, with a bowl-shaped floor. Across the chamber is a large stone statue of a multi-armed Naga … though its eyes are not visible from this angle. Presumably they would become visible once one entered the archway. Each hand holds a large stone sword. It is perched over an archway … one which glows faintly, hinting at a source of light beyond.

The Shiga passes the arch, nodding his head as if to reply to the sign above with 'And so on, and so on.' He stops a good distance away from the statue to look at it and at the swords in particular for wear-marks. He also glancing around to check the walls as well for any scrapes or other evidence of vanquished adventurers, and how they met their fates.

There are several gouges in the stone … which really would make no sense, for stone to cut gouges into stone. Nor would it make sense for a stone statue to come to life, either, so perhaps there's a certain flaw in that line of thought. By all appearances, the trap in this room is not of a mundane nature in the least. There are no remnants of previous adventurers to be seen.

Bambridge ponders the swordsnaga statue. Well, the plan wasn't to sneak past anyway, I guess. What can it hurt to say something? The thief stands as straight upright as he can, and hisses, "Hey… you there. With the swords."

The statue makes absolutely no response whatsoever.

Bambridge wanders slowly closer. "Helloooo… " He nervously cycles through several colors and patterns.

No response.

Bambridge edges over to one of the rips in the stone, watching the statue carefully as he reaches for a pebble.

There is a breeze that whips across the Shiga's scales, and a blur where the arms of the statue should be. There's a tug on the strap that holds Bambridge's belongings … and then he feels lighter, as they spill to the ground. The vermites let out squeaks of alarm – quickly silenced, as gigantic blades reduce them to … nothing discernable. The room rings with the sounds of the repeated impacts, and a few pebbles roll free out of the widened gouge in the stone floor, right into Bambridge's hand.

Bambridge stands there in stunned silence, with a paw-full of debris and his scales flushed entirely white. His jaw works a bit. "Buh."

The box holding the vermites is obliterated, and Bambridge's pack has been gouged open, but the bulk of his belongings are salvageable. Good thing he didn't have his other arm stretched out at that moment, in the path of the arc of the blade.

It takes a few long minutes for color and movement to return to the Shiga, who looks down in an attempt to salvage what he can. "That thing could have cut me to ribbons… but it went after my vermites instead."

Bambridge numbly gathers up his belongings, looking at the spots where the vermites were diced. "Such power… the Empire of old was every bit what the legends said. I wish I knew what happened."

After reassembling his gear, the reptile looks over the gouges with renewed interest, searching for a pattern.

There are no discernable traces of the vermites. Something other than simple fast-moving blades would seem to be involved.

As for the gouges … they tend to be within a certain "death arc" cutting through the chamber. Alas, it seems to be an arc quite capable of covering all possible avenues of traversal across the room … except that there are no gouges in the ceiling. That doesn't necessarily mean that the statue couldn't reach there, though.

Bambridge closes his eyes for a few moments, and thinks of his brothers back in the Savan. "It's for them, B.T… and for them it's worth it." Purposefully, he steps forward.

Nothing slices through the Shiga.

He's still in one piece.

The statue doesn't move.

Bambridge's plod of faith continues on, until he bumps into the right side of the arch … and only know realizes he'd squinted his eyes too much to see. He releases a gusty sigh of relief, and takes to rubbing his slightly bruised nose.

Through the archway, the Shiga's eyes have to adjust as he comes into a place with another source of light … provided by shafts cut in the stone walls that lead up to chambers far above in the Palace. (Alas, they seem to be too narrow, individually, for even a garter Naga to squeeze through.) Light glitters off of gold and metal that adorns furnishings and curios and chests. Stone shelves are laden with tablets and sealed containers … and books? There's no telling what condition they're in, though, just from the covers.

This must be the treasure chamber of the Emperor Potentate himself! And, if any of that information the Shiga got was worthwhile, there should be a secret passage right over …

The furnishings seem quite extravagant, enough to tempt any thief worth his muster … but not exactly the sort of thing one would hoard away. The arrangements of the room seem to suggest some private hideaway … one that has been long neglected, apparently. Perhaps the Emperor Potentate got tired of getting past all the traps?

The starry-eyed Shiga leaves his sixth sense on continual sweep for traps… but otherwise drifts amongst the riches as if in a daze. "Coins enough to swim in … metal shining from everything … I could sit right here and never leave." He shakes his head a moment, however, as if snapping out of a trance. "But… no. Well… maybe later." In the here and now, the lizard begins looking at the shelves for things with more than just artistic and monetary value. "Where did he say it was? Tsssh… "

The proper book, "A Complete History of Half Valley" – a fairly small book, really – presents itself. A light tug is rewarded by a grinding noise, as the bookshelf swings away from the wall … to reveal a secret, sloping passage behind.

"Aha!" The reptile grins, and to congratulate himself, selects a single token coin of each metal type from the stacks around, then starts toward the passage. He pauses. "Oh, I nearly forgot to return the favor… " Reaching into a pocket of his cloak, he leaves a small wooden disk, lacquered and about the size of a shekel, on the shelf next to the trigger-book. Nodding to himself in satisfaction, Bambridge continues on, lost to the shadows of the opened passage.