Room12c
“Can someone please just choose,” Jora moans.
Lamia reaches for the white mirror which races over them. The room spins even more chaotically and Jora screams, “Oh Gods,” and vomits profusely.
The room returns to normal although there is no respite from the swirling patterns.
Jora is on his hands and knees, heaving the meager contents of his stomach onto the floor.
“Hurry,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut.
Safir kneels beside the suffering boy, studiously avoiding the growing puddle and places a comforting hand on his back.
Lamia bends down and retrieves the scroll. She unrolls it and reads the small, precise script within.
Yellow was your friend
“Great,” she says. “What in the six hells does that mean?”
“Maybe it’s a clue?” Conrad peers over her shoulder at the scroll.
“Can we just go?” Jora sounds like he wants to cry or die and is unsure which would be the better choice.
“Conrad,” Safir says. “Help me with Jora and let’s get out of here.”
What choice should the adventurers make?