Turn 42

The trail of blood has stopped moving, gathering instead into a still pool; did Pham's spell work? From somewhere behind the still-opening doors comes a heart-stopping scream.
    "Valarin!" ibn Fadil snaps. "Your tools!" Whether the 'sailor' throws them or brings them with himself, he cares not, but he wants to see this door closed again.
    Val hears the shout and hesitates for a moment. He strips his left bracer off and tosses it at ibn Fadil, hoping the other did not mean for him to bring them personally. Val doesn't want to give this 'thing' an opportunity to run if he breaks the closing line, spell or no spell...
    The half-elf catches the object, lays his sword on the floor and extracts Val's lock-picks from their clever hiding place. Hunching over the lock, he prays that his fingers still remember how to do this -- and that he won't be interrupted by whatever is behind the door. The lock is more difficult than anything he's worked on in a long, long time; it's immediately clear this is not going to be as quickly done as he would like.
    Pham continues on, blissfully unaware of the perceived slight on Hiro's honor. Let Hextor worry about it - Pham is just the messenger.
    What he *is* worried about, though, is if the xixchil is in fact held, or just faking it. "Emmett," Pham whispers, "I'm not convinced the hold spell got him - get ready to move when I poke it."
    Pham waits for Emmett to set up close enough to attack, then pokes at where the creature should be with the end of his staff, hard enough to damage the xixchil. He feels the end strike something hard that gives way beneath his blow. More blood joins that pooling slowly on the floor.
    "Right." Emmett has his sword at the ready, prepared to reduce the little bugger to chitin and ichor fricassee* if he gets the chance. He has one ear cocked, however, to be ready of something does come through that door. Half attention is not good enough it seems, to strike an invisible creature, even if it's not moving.
    Val also readies himself for Pham's attack, knees bent, prepared to spring. If he can just get a good solid hit on the thing... He hits it at least, although not terribly solidly.
    Meanwhile, Alais examines the tapestry. A wide passage lies behind it, descending at a steep angle.
    Delmar takes his turn swinging at the xixchil. Something crunches beneath his blade; everyone jumps back as the thing sudden flickers back into visibility--battered, half-dismembered, leaking some fluids that might as well be ichor, and very clearly dead.
    Up on the highest level, Gorn scrabbles at the heavy door and makes the same discovery the others have. "Keys!!" he shrieks, looking around frantically.
    Hiro moves to provide protection to the lone ibn Fadil in case something should come closer to the door. He notes with puzzlement a smell like salt water, very out of place in this mountain drifting in the Flow. Something moves sinuously in the darkness.
    

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