Su Helmas 424: The Forbidden Temple/Antechamber

A number of items in the Antechamber can be RECALLed.

[Antechamber Entrance]
A smattering of lanterns hang from the vaulted ceiling of the crushingly tight corridor, giving precious little light to these dismal passageways. Wafts of dank and musty air come from a place beyond here, beckoning all who brave this place to keep moving in hopes of more space and cleaner air. Along one wall recessed chambers are carved into the stone, forming a couple of shelves that each hold different oddities and artifacts.
You also see a hole.
Obvious exits: east.

On the shelf you see a gold medallion.

Two figures standing near a lectern on which sits an open spellbook, one reads outloud but you cannot hear the words. The other says, Yes, I did that. You watch as speaking figure traces a pattern for a spell you do not recognise in the air, a beautiful ophidian-like pattern which sparks menacingly and then sputters out. See, explains the caster, It's just not working like it was. You feel yourself being pulled away as the pair begin to retrace their steps once again with the intricate serpentine spell pattern.

[Corridor]
A hand's width wider here than to the west, the ceiling is strung with numerous lanterns. Black mold and slime fills the corners with moist and gooey muck. Cracks rise along the stone walls. Between a pair of doors, a portrait hangs on the cracked stone wall, nearly obscured by cobwebs. Faint air currents cause the sticky mess of dusty spidersilk to flutter, though an occasional stronger gust causes the door's hinges to creak and moan.
Obvious exits: west.

Screams of agony and wails of despair are followed by the overwhelming smell of burnt ozone. Slowly you make your way through the robed bodies that lie motionless in pools of blood, their eyes fixed on things beyond this world. A deep voice booms from somewhere in the near distance, Don't let 'em get out alive! Your heart thuds in your chest as you try to quicken your step, slipping and sliding on the blood soaked tiles. A group of Imperial soldiers join you, their swords held high as the leader bellows at you, We are with you! Move! Let's end this now! In the confusion and surprise, you misjudge your next step and slide in a thick puddle, cracking your head on the hard tiled floor. Completely addled, the intense pain is coupled with nausea and dizziness as the blackness overwhelms you and you slip into oblivion.

[Library]
Quite roomy in comparison to the the cramped corridor, the smell of melting wax and musty paper encompasses the private area. A massive two-tiered chandelier hangs from the domed ceiling, lighting the room with a soft flickering glow that casts distorted shadows over random surfaces. Walls of bespoke shelving wrap around the circular room each is covered with rows of time-worn books, all neatly ordered and labeled despite being moldy and slightly warped. Situated near the door, two cracked leather highback chairs face each other separated by a toppled table of marble.
Obvious exits: none.

Hands. A half-dozen of them converge over a piece of stone carving. Gnarled hands, young hands, pale hands that have never seen the sun. Each set of fingers tracing the cutwork of the stone, as if searching for meaning. As you watch the hands do the bidding of their masters, you realize that these are fingers that do not belong to the sighted and the fingers are madly searching for meaning behind the chiseled stonework. Finally, the hands all pull back at the same time as if by signal. A weary voice intones,It is no use, the words now are meaningless. The vision fades before you can see what is on the stone carving.

[Antechamber]
Devoid of decoration, the door, walls, and even the ceiling and floors are a uniform, dingy white marble. Four massive columns support the room in its center, making them the main focal point in the vast space. Cleverly tucked in a corner behind a pillar, a silver and white damask curtain hangs in shreds, revealing rather than hiding a tiny alcove. The east wall is nearly gone, deliberately knocked down in an unfinished attempt to expand the space, leaving mounds of marble where a doorway should be.
Obvious exits: none.

Darkness overtakes you and then with the sudden light, you find yourself tethered upside down on a wooden slab. A figure, face hidden by a hood, comes towards you with a small knife and makes several cuts to your limbs. You can feel the blood rushing downward, and when you look to the side the room is filled with others trussed in the same manner. You begin to feel dizzy from the loss of your lifeforce, when the figure approaches again with something akin to a spoon in hand. Before you realize it, the instrument has been thrust into your orbital socket with tremendous force and with a sickening wet *pop* sound, you manage to conclude you have lost an eye before darkness overtakes you once again.

[Alcove]
A pair of enormous ceramic flower pots rest beside the remains of the curtain, displaying only layers of dust along their rims. The only other feature is a bench that follows along the back wall. Surrounded by piles of tattered fabric and matted down, the pitted surface offers precious little comfort. A series of silver medallions are embedded deeply into the stone.
Obvious exits: none.

The rhythmic sound of hundreds of boots pounding the stone floors is accompanied by the beating of a war drum keeping time. All goes still and quiet as uniformed man yells,FIRE! A symphony of crackling and sizzling brings lightening bolts that strike at the hooded figures huddled in the distance. The overwhelming stench of scorched flesh and burnt ozone assault your senses, leaving you feeling a bit nauseated and light headed. The screams of agony reach you, as the man yells, FORWARD!! NO ONE LEAVES HERE ALIVE! Robed figures drop at your feet as you move with the group, the soldiers swords swinging down to finish off those who survived the volley of lightening. Slowly the vision fades, the smell of ozone still heavy in the air.

[Antechamber East]
Unlike its western half, this room is lavishly decorated. Gilded columns reach to the ceiling, framing roundels of the Thirteen. Each deity's eyes are seemingly focused on a frieze depicting the various constellations that runs along the cornice surrounding the room. Now dusty and threadbare, once plush chairs and sofas face a pair of buffet tables that stretch from one corner to the next. Framed in intricately carved wood, a wide marble stairwell is blocked by an undulating purple ward.
Obvious exits: east.

A dimly lit room, with several figures in a semi-circle standing watching one of their own kind in the middle. The semi-circle itself emits a low, vibrant hum that you recognize as chanting but you cannot recognize the language they are speaking, and in fact you are not even sure they are saying words. The figure in the middle convulses and undulates, his own voice superseding the chanters as it grows in frenetic pace. You mostly understand it as the gibbering rant of a madman, but are able to pick out a few words such as plane and terrifyingly confusing words like insubstantial and emulsification before your vision fades.

You see a semi-transparent, purple wall of force blocking a wide marble stairwell. While bright, you can make out a short distance of steps terminating at ornate double doors behind the ward. White sigils float within the purple ward, as though suspended in fluid.
You may be able to manipulate the ward, but doing so will require more thorough study.