With wounds now healed and gruesome deaths of their comrades pushed to the backs of already shaken minds, the group was able to move on to their final destination; the towering spire before them, which would hopefully lead to some answers about the plane they stood in. And of course, how to get rid of it - the lands of the Daedra had no place in Nirn, and that mere fact would possibly lend hope to those stuck within the realm. The Gods couldn't allow this transgression against their will to continue, so surely these few warriors had the favour of the Aedra. Others, however, may look upon this as a fruitless effort. Mehrunes Dagon had broken the one law that kept some people asleep at night. If the Prince of Destruction could unleash his fiery lands and evil minions on the world of men and elves, then they had truly been abandoned by all that is good in the world.

As for Naenya, she was simply enjoying the new learning experience. The quarrels of beings such as the Daedric Princes and the Gods had nothing to do with her; all the Bosmer woman could do was to try and look on the bright side of things. The Dremora that she and the others had wiped out had a very fascinating physiology - that much she could tell by simply watching them die. Many people she had known were immensely interested in the biology of such unknown beasts, but unfortunately when one is summoned to Nirn, it disappears when it dies. Or, it just kills you instead. Either way, nothing useful is learnt. As for these bodies however, they remained where they were cut down, some of them twitching as they died. If it weren't for the steadily-approaching doom of the group within the Deadlands, and of course, the defenceless citizens in and around Kvatch, Naenya would have been quite happy to stay where she was and examine the corpses, not being perturbed in the slightest at the still impaled Glenndus nearby, or the smouldering crisp that was once their impromptu leader, still laying in the lava. But as the group made haste towards the tower, Naenya followed with a disheartened sigh. It would do no good to linger out there; especially if the others found some amazing way to close the gate without getting stuck inside... and possibly leaving her behind. She liked learning, but not quite that much. She doubted there was much in the way of water or edible food in this place.

It was surprising to discover that the great stone doors before them weren't locked, or guarded all that much beyond two scamps roaming about within. They were dispatched easily, being no real threat compared to the group they had encountered outside. Unfortunately, the interior of the tower was no less horrifying than the outside; the same blood-coloured spikes from outside lined the circular room, and a large pool of lava laid in the center. While the dry, cracking heat of the environment was shut out the moment the doors closed behind them, it was only replaced with an even more intense heat. Radiating from the pool of lava was a strange column of fire; betraying all the laws of physics as it shot up like a solid beam of light, wreathed in flames and smoke. It was too bright to look at directly, and Naenya's ears picked up on a very peculiar noise issuing from it; a high-pitched hissing, coupled with a creepy, ethereal chime. One that she could only apply to the noise magic makes - but this was no magic she had ever seen before. Nor did she know what the purpose of it was. It had to have some use beyond aesthetics... so she could only guess it had something to do with the gate staying open.

It would seem everyone else came to that conclusion as heads tilted upwards, squinting against the harsh light of the beam to see where it led. It only seemed to go up, and that was the only direction the group could also go; doors led to a hall, which led to a ramp, and another hall. More petty enemies lined the way, the group dispatching another scamp and a Dremora. It was astonishing, the lack of guards within the tower; Naenya wondered if it was because the tower was very unimportant, and the group had been led astray and were probably going to die soon. Then again, it was a bit more comforting that whoever arranged the guard patrols in this place was arrogant enough to think that nobody could have gotten past the kill brigade outside, so minimal guards were needed within.

"Huh. I wonder who actually does the guard patrols for Dremora. Do you think there's a roster? Night shifts? Lunch breaks? Do Daedra even have lunch?" Naenya pondered aloud to herself as she often did - usually when speaking to Bobo, but as she'd forgotten for the fifth time, she'd left her beloved Magpie back in a land where he wasn't going to burn to death at any possible moment.

After more doors, more ramps, and more petty dremora, the group finally reached a larger hall on what Naenya could only guess was the third level of the tower; after dispatching the two foes within, the group paused as they finally came across a decent obstacle; one of the doors was locked. While the various rogues offered up services of lock-picking, Naenya took the time to examine the room. On one of the four pillars within was a body; impaled to the stone, set alight, and smelling strongly of burnt pork. Further along was a very crude - and very obvious - trap, in which spears shot out from the wall to penetrate the unlucky person who stepped on the pressure plate, which was spattered in blood. However, the thing that had caught Naenya's attention were the two benches in the middle of the room; they looked oddly like pews (Only much spikier and far more uncomfortable), and her mind began drifting to Daedra worship - not mortals worshipping them of course, but the various types of Daedra worshipping. Did they pray to Mehrunes Dagon? Or would they pray to all of the Daedric Princes, as people prayed to different Aedra? Were there different sects or cults with the realms of Oblivion? Would one be shunned or just killed for worshipping the wrong master? Interesting thoughts indeed.

As everyone else tried to sort out their current situation, or have an internal crisis about faith and potential impending death, Naenya perched on one of the benches thoughtfully, smiling at the possibility of a Dremora in priest clothing and giving blessings.