"Is this?..." Jocasta asked, her voice hushed with wonder. 

"I don't know." Beren whispered back. 

Thw dwarves, for their part, gasped and whispered amongst themselves, but they did not say if this was the ancient stronghold they had originally gone in search of. It had not been a short trek, but it was not nearly as long of a journey as any of them had originally thought, if it was so. Beren placed his hands on his hips and peered out over the chasm to the settlement beyond, illuminated by some form of refracted light from above. Perhaps there were shafts that reached the surface, as that was how many dwarven settlements only a hundred meters below the surface kept alight so they might not expend so many torches. Jocasta giggled, and she planted a bright grub on the tip of Beren's nose. 

He crossed his eyes trying to see the little grub, but the small thing merely inched upwards until it lost itself in Beren's thick head of hair. Beren couldn't hide his smile, Jocasta's laughter infectious. 

"Got the best seat in the house," She said, knocking the side of Beren's head as if it were a door. 

"Yeah, til I bump into something." Beren joked, though truthfully there was little chance of that. Despite how short dwarves were, they tended to make walkways and buildings quite tall and spacious. 

"There," Otar said, pointing from their vantage at a structure overlooking the vast chasm. Unlike the other buildings, this one looked disconnected with the others, nor was it attached to any of the natural walls of the cavern. It almost seemed built for overlooking the settlement itself, save for the runes emblazoned along the archway that led into its inner sanctum, and the built-in pool of water at its front. 

It took the troupe around fifteen minutes to trek to it, Otar determinedly at the fore while the others followed. Beren took the rear, not trusting keeping Jocasta out of his sight. But they arrived in short order, as small blessing as it was. Gunir was in the middle, protected with his broken arm, though he was loathe to be coddled.

The Temple was large, overbearing and filled with grim splendor. The walls were adorned with mosaics of ancient battles and the pillars were carven with crimson and gold symbols of sharp, crossing angles. Unlit lanterns hung from the ceiling, however Beren, Jocasta, and even a few of the dwarves were surprised to find a lit brazier at the center of the temple, crackling as if someone had tended it not minutes ago. The flames danced along the stained glass windows, each wrought in the shape of a dwarven paragon of ages past. Between each window was a weapon, stout spears, battle axes, and the like. Below them were rows of stout, stone benches to sit upon which were made more pleasant by thin cushions one could use when kneeling or sitting. Beyond the brazier were three statues, each with space at the base of their feet for offerings. 

The statue on the left was a fiercesome, barrel chested warrior dwarf covered in runes, his mohawk and twin battle-axes making him seem even larger than his ten foot height might appear, the intricate detail of his visage so realistic, one might think he would leap out and slaughter the one prostrated beneath him at any moment. At the center was a solemn, wise dwarf adorned in fine mail and a tabard with the sigil of the hammer & anvil upon his breast. He wore a great helm, and though in his left hand he bore a hammer and on his back was a round shield, his huge right hand reached out as if to aid whomever called upon him. The last image on the right was a beautiful, albeit matronly dwarf woman. If one looked closely, she wore mail under her skirts and apron, but she bore a simple, albeit elaborately designed, staff. Her hair was tied in braids that cascaded down her rounded shoulders. With her free hand, she looked to be hearkening to the heavens.

It would have all seemed perfect, if the stench of decay were not in the air. The water in the pool outside was blackened by some unknown filth, and within the temple, the central walkway was covered in a thick coating of some sort of greasy, slimy material. It was growing hard even as they stepped along it, sucking at their boots and threatening to overwhelm them with an unpleasant odor that seemed almost a mixture between entrails, grime, and spoiled chicken.

"What filth desecrates this sacred place!?" The old priest cried, rushing up to the head of the wide temple. The pillars stood framing the left and right, almost separating the wide space with what seemed various corridors. At the end of each were smaller busts of lesser gods and ancestors, but many had been cracked or defiled with blood or excrement. At the feet of each great statue, dwarven bones and shreded garments were left as if in mockery of tribute. It was clear this temple had been ransacked, but whatever huge thing had left that trail of mucus... it had been quiet recent. 

"Take a guess," Buri said with a smile, looking at the bones with distaste. Radsvir and Varin had taken it upon themselves to warm their hands by the ever-burning flame, kept alit for thousands of years by the old spells.

"Over here!" Beren called. The others turned to see him at a smaller door at the back right of the temple, where the remains of something that been vomited up right at the door, as if the stench alone would ward any any tresspassers. Jocasta grabbed her nose and wretched. "What was it?" 

"Not that," Beren remarked, pointing out the door. "That." 

The archaeologist blinked and squinted, at first noticing nothing. However, as the moments passed, something immense moved through the streets below. Beren had a good vantage point, seeing the serpent-like body slithering against the once immaculate stone street, and the scaly form rearing up into the upper body of a horrid, enormous batlike monstrosity. Its two curled, wicked arms were held close like a tyrannosaur, and its mutated bat-like head opened its mouth and let out a soft, gasping hiss as it hunted. 

Beren silently pushed Jocasta and the dwarves back, closing the door. "We can't camp here tonight." 

"I will not leave this place to that abomination," Otar growled. Gunir and Muragrim nodded, hefting their weapons. Beren would normally not have a complaint, but he almost felt like he had two lives here tugging at him. One with his dwarven companions and the other with Jocasta, not that she necessarily needed much protecting. He just doubted she was so keen to battle every horror there was that lurked in the deeps. 

"Any ideas?" He asked them aloud.