Cage is a polite word for the container the little blue fey creature is in.  More accurately an aquarium or even oversized jar.  Not tall enough for her to stand even to her extremely modest twenty five inches of height, not wide enough for her to lie down, she slumps against the side of the heavy and obviously reinforced container that will take a considerable amount of force to break even from the outside.

As new people come into the room she raises her head slightly, one crystalline eyelid opening just enough to observe them, to see how they react to the predicament she has found herself in before she makes any assessment of how to deal with the range of possibilities they represent.

After a momentary sweep of the room, Tyr's attention fell upon the odd figure in the cage. He could tell that it was small and humanoid, but discerned little other than that. He approached cautiously, and the creature itself was the only one close enough to hear the almost imperceptible clicking sound he made with his mouth. He then half-turned to his allies, looking in the direction of the wall at this point.

"What need have they for a creature such as this? Is it even still alive?"

Zarbak went to go have a look inside the chest, "A chest full of gear next to an interesting, caged woman, to whom it looks like this stuff probably belongs. Just another player in the game, perhaps? Could be a trap, 'rescue the innocent little girl, watch her murder everyone in their sleep' kind of thing. Could be exactly as it seems too." Zarbak pointed up toward the sign at that last bit.

"Good day there, Crystals. Care for a chat?"

"It is either a trap, or someone in need." Daephine voiced the options between which she was torn. "I would say that trusting a helpless woman isn't a worse idea than letting a strangley resurected man tag along." She gave Zarbak a long glare before fetching the key and moving to the glass prison. Her expression softened as she looked at the trapped fey. "Can you understand us?"

The first few questions asked, or rhetorical in nature, do not draw a response from the small woman in the jar, the movement of the key however does.  Her partially open eye opens about half way and tracks, if a bit slowly, the movement of the key across the room.  When asked if she can understand them her already fairly quiet voice is muffled further by the jar, but can be heard in the otherwise quiet room by anyone paying close attention to it.  ”I can speak your language, but I do not understand much of what you are using it to describe.”
This message was last edited by the player at 22:21, Sat 31 July 2021.

Tyr nodded at Daephine's wisdom, before backing up to give her the space she needed to free the creature. Their decision made, he immediately turned his attention back to their path further into the dungeon. Still, be spoke to the others as he looked just outside of the doorway.

"Trust goes both ways; you must give it in order to receive it. Only time will tell us whether it was well placed or not."

"The stuff in this chest is sized for a baby..." Zarbak looked back up at the crystal woman, "What is this?"

Watching the people move around outside the over sized bottle that contains her it is clear that she can follow who is talking, perhaps even what they are saying, but that she doesn't really understand the point behind a lot of it, after a while when they seem to have stopped talking to each other she speaks up again.  ”I don't know what it is you have found exactly, I was unconscious when they brought me into this room and was not provided with a full inventory of what else had been placed in what seems to be a sort of temporary storage.
 It has been several hours since I woke up but nobody other than you has come here.  If you are not in league with those who captured me can you find a way to let me out?”

Once again: key. Lock. Keraptis made it very simple.

What isn't so simple however, is the impatience of some. Daephine and Tyr decide to check the room Jillian disappeared into. The one with the animated skeletons wearing bright glowing amulets.

"They are immune to turn undead!!!" Is the last thing you hear from the once lovely bard.

Tyr's screams are the last you hear from him.

"Huh, I'm pretty sure I designed this lock myself." Zarbak removes it as though it were nothing. "Come on out of there."

23:20, Today: Zarbak Gnash rolled 27 using 1d20+7.  Thieves' Tools.

The key, which was completely ignored, grows wings, flies around the room once or twice and then smashes into the cage. Both the key and cage go POOF.

No more key. No more cage.

Watching the events outside the over sized jar with a languid, almost sleepy expression it is clear that some kind of suppression effect ends along with the disappearance of the jar, the key, or the lock although which one is unclear as they all take place at the same time.  Rising to her full, but unimpressive height of just over two feet it is all the more apparent just how thin the tiny woman is, with the slight refraction of light off her crystalline skin it almost seems like she fades out of view when she turns sideways, but only for a moment.

Lifting clear of the table without so much as the effort it would take to step up a set of stairs she flies over to the chest with her possessions in it and begins to dress herself with just as little interest in the question of modesty as she showed while in the jar.  The items she wears are all aesthetically pleasing but it is clear she has them for more functional purposes.  In place of weapons she sheathes the two tiny sticks in obviously purpose built holders on each hip of her belt as the final component to her wardrobe.  Now fully restored she looks up at the last big person in the room.  ”I could have been mistaken but where there three of your kind a few minutes ago?  I don't think I was quite out of it enough to see triple, double perhaps, but not triple.”

You're in area 21. People keep going into room 20 to get murdered by skeletons wearing suspiciously magical amulets. Your natural adventurous instinct tells you not to go into room 20, and perhaps to continue into room 22.

Heeding this inner voice, whether you call it your conscience, Jiminy Cricket, or DM railroading, you kick open the door to 22.

The first thing you see is Adamar Virnala, frozen in carbonite. As soon as you enter the room the thawing process automatically begins, and within seconds, Adamar is able to greet you, as well as explain what his character looks like.

description of the room will come after you meet him. it's another puzzle, so don't wanna mix problem solving with new character role play.

Adamar falls flat to the floor from the weird contorted position that he was previously in. "By the gods!" the half-elf said as he tumbles to the ground. He crouches there for a moment before standing up and looking around the room.

"What the..?"

Adamar is a handsome half-elven gentleman with dark chocolate skin. His eyes, which were are equally dark, haunting, and compelling looked to be a mere heartbeat away from panic.

The half-elf is dressed in fine, well-oiled leathers and walks with the assistance of a knotted old cane. His hands are adorned with silver rings on each and every finger and his smile shone just as bright as the well-polished rings. Strapped to his back is a well-traveled explorer's pack with hempen rope strapped to the side.

"Ah, well...er..hello there!" Adamar said attempted to be as dashing as he could be considering his present circumstances.

"I guess fate really does favor fools."

"I don't know that I would say that, exactly. At least three of us fools have found our fate throwing us right here in the middle of a dungeon. I've been in two rooms, and nearly everyone I've met thus far are already dead. Two rooms, all dead, and not a one through combat. All that aside, hello, I'm Zarback Gnash. Hopefully we don't join the dead ones for a good while, yet."

"D-dead....?" Adamar said as he gathered his wits.

"How is that so?"

Although clearly still getting her bearings Valenestria is at least flying around at eye level now, looking into the various curiosities of the room, even the stairs seem new and unusual from the way she views them.  After a quick trip around the room she seems to at last notice the other big person and addresses the question asked.  ”From what I have heard they seem to like going into extremely dangerous rooms all alone, almost as if compelled to do so by some unfortunate failure of their personalities.  I wouldn't recommend it, but you should be reasonably safe as long as you stick with the group.”

Adamar nodded, "Or perhaps not a character flaw but some type of compulsion...a charm maybe. I think I can help with that." Adamar nodded gravely.

"Ah, my apologies Adamara Virnala, Cleric of the Twilight Stars." Adamar said as he bowed more stiffly than he had hoped.

"uUurgh, it would appear that my muscles are still sluggish from whatever ghoulish device imprisoned me."

Clank clank clank clank clank....A rusty trap door in the ceiling slowly opens.

Squeak squeak squeak....An iron chain on a squeaky winch lowers down Kalda Silverhammer. She's all chained up and unconscious, all her armor and weapons on.

As soon as her toes touch the stone floor the chain POOFS away and she wakes up, standing there in front of you.

I'll let her describe herself.

Then we'll finally get on with the puzzle.

"Damn wizard's having far too much fun with all of this."

The woman standing before you is no more than four feet tall and is broad of shoulder and hips. Her simple and practical clothes leave only a modest level of tanned skin visible. The only weapons that is visible is a pair of thin throwing blades attached to her belt. She wears a traveler's cloak and satchel slung over her shoulder. "Who are you?" she asks in a voice an octave lower than you would think that she should have.

"I've introduced myself more in the last 10 minutes than I have in the last ten years. Zarback, Adamar, Gwendolyn, and Valenestria."


Anyone who's not actually here, he corrects by mentioning how many minutes ago they had died.

Valenestria turns in mid air to look at Zarback when her name is spoken aloud, almost as if drawn to its very sound, but her attention and focus is clearly still on his words
”Wouldn't the last ten minutes be part of the last ten years, and thus add to the total with each additional introduction in such a way as to make it impossible for the smaller category to have more iterations?”

22 on map https://www.dndbeyond.com/atta...23/850/564/wpm02.png

Once there are finally no further distractions you get a look at this hallway, which leads west:
You're standing in a 10(long)x20(wide)x10'(high) area with a 5x20x10' pit filled with goblin swords, spears and morning stars, rusty tips up.

The other side of that easily jumpable DC10 gap, the hall continues 50x20x10 completely silver. Fun fact: silver has a bit of a rainbow sheen to it...

At the end of that section is another pit just like the one previously described, although from here you can't see the swords, so maybe there's something else down there.

And then there's the 10x20x10 end of the hallway which is not shiny, appears safe, and has the door to the next room. Good luck.

Adamar looked up from where the chair and from before regaining his composure and introducing himself. "Adamar Virnala, Cleric of the Twilight Stars. A pleasure to meet you." the half-elf said with a smile.

"Are you well?" Adamar added while raising an eyebrow.