Temple Run - Printable Version

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.

Archimedes had accepted the ride for himself and his Golden Charger, but only after the snake had started flagging. It just wasn't meant for long journeys.

At the mouth of the ruins, or rather the mouth they had chosen (there were, he understood, many entrances), he hopped down and hesitated. "Yes; I'm just... debating." The rat glanced sidelong at the snake. "I'd rather not risk him in there. I assume I can enter my stone should I be attacked, assuming I don't get my head bitten clean off. And taming another would be tedious, but he might be useful."

The rat grimaced, then shook his head. "Ahh, well. He can come, I suppose. Thank you for giving his legs a rest." This was said deadpan, and the rat hopped back down, perching on the coiling scales. He washed his whiskers briefly, eyeing the ominous mouth of the tunnel. "So... what do we know of this place, again?"

The Piano knew more than he, he thought, and it'd be good to know what to expect... even if he was already sliding on snake-back for it.

"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."

Archimedes let out a little laugh. Was it a phrase people used? He didn't get out enough to know. "Let's assume it is; and if it isn't we can credit you for its creation."

As for light... "That is a good idea." He was nocturnal by nature, with keen night vision, so that it rarely occurred to him to consider that some places might have no light at all by which to see.

He looked around, considering. Fairly quickly he picked out some flammable materials, and sticks and such. "Wait here a few moments, would you?" he requested, and hopped back off his snake, setting about in gathering them.

Archimedes was barely a foot long, so in the end the "torch" he created out of a gob of resin, a stick and some tied-up dried grass was barely larger than a match. It wouldn't light up a whole dungeon tunnel, let alone a room, but the resin ensured it would burn for some time, at least. "I will endeavor not to burn anything down," he joked. The snake recoiled visibly from the flame, tongue flicking, and Archimedes seemed to ignore this as he mounted back up.

Then a gesture forward, toward the tunnel mouth, and he glanced to the Piano with a gleam of adventure in his beady eyes. "Shall we?"

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.

The entrance ahead was a simple tunnel, but quickly opened out into carved brick stone. It was ancient, weathered, moss-covered sandstone like much of this place. Vines hung in the entrance, ivy crawling across the wall and floors, infiltrating every crack.

Beyond lay a metal gate, oddly blackened and half fallen-away with rust.

Archimedes and The Piano may roll to discern more about this gate, or to force it open enough for the latter to move through.

Archimedes entered, snorting softly at the mockery of his fine little fire. His serpent flicked its tongue, slithering along, and he dutifully noted its assesssssssment that this place was old. The air tasted stale and musty on its tongue. But he could smell that, himself-

The thought occurred to him that The Piano did not have a nose, and he glanced to it. "This place smells ancient. -Can you smell?" he asked. It would be rude to offer information it already had.

The serpent slithered beneath the vines, moving this way and that at the rat's direction in order to give a better view of what lay ahead. By the time they reached a gate, much of the light behind them had faded through distance alone, and so Archimedes drew up close and lifted his tiny matchstick-torch to illuminate it.

He studied it and left The Piano to do whatever it felt best, his snake sliding along the length of the gate so they could both get a clear and comprehensive view.

Of the bottom few feet, at least.

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.

The gate was not a particularly sturdy thing. Archimedes would be able to note that it once had been, at least somewhat. An exact assessment at this age was impossible.

But he would notice the blackening on the metal, and perhaps recognize it: the charring of flame, having come from somewhere within.

The Piano failed at opening the gate. This was not because the gate was strong, but because the moment its strings touched metal, it simply... collapsed. Rust rose up in a cloud as a small amount of remaining metal collapsed in a quiet series of clangs.

Hopefully, nothing hostile within had heard the sound... but the path ahead was clear, at least.

The little rat's examination led him to his conclusion, and he sat back to speak. "Be-" he managed, before the gate just sort of... dissolved. He waited, watching the metal pieces clang, tumble, and skid across the rock, and patiently observed the last of the dust clumping heavily down, his sense of comedic timing taking over.

"...Careful."

A light, polite cough. "It's been burned, from the inside, I think. Do you have any defenses against fire?"

The Piano appeared to be made of wood, but... Archimedes had never really asked for details. He brushed the rust dust from his whiskers, and settled on his Charger, urging it past the broken gate and into the dark beyond, his tiny torch guttering against the massive, yawning shadows.