ORIGIN

It was a very, very long trip to the heart of Lacerta.

It was also a journey of self-discovery, in a way: The Piano had discovered several things about itself thanks to this excursion. The first was that it did not play well with water. The second was that it did not play well with humidity. The third was that it, its nine-foot shape, and its sole three wheels did not play well with tunnels filled with pit traps. Somehow, the venomous snakes were less of a concern than the potholes everywhere. Probably because you could magically and physically intimidate a snake, but not a pothole.

Nevertheless, it and its rat compatriot had made it to what appeared to be a massive expanse of ruins (relatively) unscathed. It would have offered Archimedes and his familiar a ride inside its larger mouth, if the rat so desired, but now that they were here, it signaled the need to use its mouth to talk.

"Shall we go inside?" Its words came out more garbled than usual, possibly because of its humidity-swollen wood and waterlogged hammers. But from the looks of it, those ruins had to hold some kind of treasure (or else its faith in the world might come crumbling down), and The Piano doubted anyone else was willing to brave them frequently. Giving The Organization a unique business advantage if they succeeded today.

It thought for a moment. The way here had not exactly been easy. Just in case, it began to sprout rows of gleaming teeth along its piano strings.

"Understandable," The Piano assured Archimedes, although it came out more like ungasbababbul. It flexed its strings and hammers and tried again. "I will, of course, do my utmost to protect you both from getting any part of your body bitten off." But then Archimedes came to a decision to take his Charger with him anyway. The Piano tried to sneak in a little pet on its gleaming scales with a single string before it slithered off.

"Of course," it said in reply to Archimedes' thanks. "I would hate to see its legs fall off from exhaustion. --Is that the expression people normally use?" Anyway, back to business: to be honest, The Piano also barely knew anything about the Temple Ruins. That was fine, though. It was sure they could handle this, itself being a big burly Piano and Archimedes being a Genius and all. "The Lessers here are large, and may be vicious and dangerous. There may be traps inside," it inferred this from the number of traps that were just along a regular tunnel before they even reached the ruins, "And there may be treasures. Artifacts from the civilization that was once here, weapons with or without magic, and perhaps the lost stones of ill-fated adventurers." It assumed.

It thought for a moment. "Can we make a source of light before we go in, so we are not impeded by the dark? I have magic that makes light," here it demonstrated, imbuing its body with an ethereal glow and making golden ripples dance across its surface like sunbeams, "but it would be good to have a secondary source. In case magic fails, or we get split up, or I must use my magic elsewhere."

The Piano watched patiently, and with a sense of fascination, as Archimedes worked. For someone so small and working without magic, he was really good at what he did and really smart. It found itself once again extremely satisfied with its decision to to follow the rat as its leader. There was much to learn from him, and much to gain from their cooperation.

"Indeed," it replied at Archimedes's joke. "It would be a shame if the entire temple went up in flames before we found anything." This was also a joke, of course. Because the flame was literally smaller than a single one of its newly-grown teeth.

Since the flame was small, The Piano endeavored to enhance its dark vision with magic as well, but--exactly as had happened to it before--the magic was frustratingly difficult. It shrugged off the failure; it would surely not be too dark so close to the entrance anyway. It would have time to try again later. "We shall," it declared, and wheeled itself forward into the tunnel.

Like most other built structures in the caves, the temple ruins looked like they'd been abandoned for a long time. The thick moss on the stone floor slowed it down, but also cushioned its body from the bumps and cracks along the ground. The Piano glanced down and caught Archimedes' eye as he asked after its sense of smell. "I can," it confirmed, "though likely not as well as you! But yes. It seems like this place hasn't gotten fresh air in a long time." It wasn't the good, earthy smell of a wild place out in the open, nor was it like The Piano's own cultured, refined smell of wood and varnish indoors, but a rather musty combination of the worst of both worlds.

Yet it was not particularly sensitive, so it did not mind it too much. When they reached the old gate, The Piano did not think much of it. It was simply a time-weathered obstacle, a doorway beyond which they'd get to the real interesting things, in its eyes. Or- well- in its view. It rolled right up to the gate and extended half its strings to either half of the gate, trying to push it open.