A weathered desert structure

The abandoned temple hadn't been marked on the map. Or shown in the moon. Not that he believed in the latter, but the thoughts kept popping up, thanks to the damn shamans from his tribe as a child. Still, creepy and abandoned temples promised to provide a good hunt. Or some money. Not that he needed it. He traced a path along the outside of the temple, looking for any semi-hidden entrances.

Semi-hidden entrances? There were a number of openings leading inside, and a number of patches where nature had withered away the structure and allowing unorthodox entry points as well - those most of those were drops as soon as one stepped inside. There were two man entries on the southern wall high up the platform. Three were situated with one on the east and two on the west side, leading downwards into the earth. And there were at least four more broken points that someone could wiggle through that dropped down further than the man-made entries were.

As for scents, there was little than the expected to be picked up even for a well trained nose - old, stale air from within the walls. Sun-burnt sand. Rocks and dust.

Far overhead a single falcon chirped out as it made a slow circle around the tallest point of the building.

The large weasel nodded and followed along, still sniffing about for anything unusual. He decided not to talk, feeling it added to the mystery of what exactly he was. Weasel lycanthrope was not nearly as common as the wolf variety, at least not among humans...

When they arrived at the Eastern entrance, he would examine the stone around it for anything interesting, like writing or symbols. He would also continue sniffing, if for no other reason than the cool, stale, indoor air was a nice change of pace from the hot desert.

Cairex didn't particularly care what the weasel was, that it was not a normal weasel was evident enough, and it wasn't hostile so who cared.

He ignored the urns as well, small trinkets and jewels that would serve to potentially hinder him during the expedition into the temple. Cairex did head into the temple, carefully drawing his blade and ensuring that the weasel was still close by, and that nothing else seemed to be present.

No matter how far the pair seemed to go, there was little disturbance save for a cool, faint breeze down within the stone walls as they trekked deeper. There were a number of urns along the way, still bearing items - possible offerings? And the further they went, there was the occasional coin of gold or a piece of gem-embedded jewelry. Stone tablets discarded, scribed with more markings and some of them traced in color and ink.

The walls bore no secrets and no words, only pictures depicting actions and stories and woven tails. People of dark skin and white cloth and gold, sitting and kneeling and walking and fighting and running, holding weapons or items - the variations went on and on. Nothing on dragons, nothing on magic. At least not yet.

There would finally be a break in the travel - a menacing hiss. There would be movement ahead on the floor, and it wouldn't take much to discovered it was a cobra slowly moving across the stones. The scales of its back were black and the soft underbelly was a pale yellow, the wide head marked with an odd design below the jaw. It looked upon the two approaching, flicking its tongue at them a few times, before lying flat once more and slipping further on down the tunnel with haste.

The large weasel swiveled around when he heard the hiss. His hairs stood on end and his back arched, ready to pounce. He remained in that position until the snake fled further into the tunnel. Then he relaxed.

When Cairex spoke, the weasel replied for the first time. "Careful... maybe more further in." His voice was breathy and wheezing, about what you'd expect from a giant weasel trying to talk. With that, he decided to proceed further into the structure. He didn't rush after the snake. Instead, he kept his nose low to the ground and followed its scent. If he was coming close to it or if there was more than one, he'd sense it long before it became a real threat to him.

The weasel felt the overpowering odors from both sides like a thick, warm cloud. Neither side was an appealing path to take, but he didn't want to come all this way just to turn back. But there were many questions. Would they have to fight the creatures within? Did they just live here? Could they be spoken to or reasoned with?

... He almost hoped the answer to the last question was no. He wasn't good with words. He enjoyed testing himself against stronger foes, There were worse ways to die than in battle. But then would he not rather live overall?

His head rocked back and forth. Dog, or snake? Dog, or Snake? Snake, or Dog? Remembering how the cobra had simply brushed by them without actually attacking them, he thought perhaps the reptiles might be a bit more amenable, especially when he revealed his true form...

With hesitation, he began to lean towards the path of the snake, and take short, measured steps further in while sniffing along the ground. That said, he wasn't above listening to Sir Cairex Forgepyre should he strongly suggest the opposite route.

Sing-Sing Bearbane, Sir Cairex Forgepyre

Snakes, it is.

The scent was only growing thicker the further they went, and the torch lights were dimming the farther they went. The hall seemed to go on forever, with more etchings of desert serpents and black cobras - dead men lying on the ground, poisoned and wallowing in pools of venom, a woman repeatedly seen with a black cobra and a curved dagger-like blade in her hand. It was disturbing, even in the rough etched fashion drawn in the walls. The story continued until a man with an eagle's head appeared and stood larger, taller than her. She cowered beneath his hand. The snakes receded from him. And the woman was cast off. A cobra writhed. There was a pyramid, and in the heart of it was a small pedestal with a gem or item settled atop it? The pedestal was depicted alone with that black cobra circled around it, now no longer just a snake but bearing a headdress much like the one of the woman, set with a flawlessly cut amethyst gem and the object missing from its resting place on said pedestal.

The story ended there, as did the hall - dropping off into a wide, rounded pit. The steps that led down into the bottom of the bowl of this room were worn, but the first one was broken. Likely to cause an accident if someone was too engrossed in the story. But here, in this chamber, were mounds of shimmering gold and gems of amethyst and sapphire, lavishing furniture for a god wrought in gold and stone. Silk draperies were worn and withered but still elegant. And... snakes. Hundreds of sand-bound serpents were slithering everywhere and draped over almost everything. Seemingly normal, and undisturbed by visitors that might enter. Instead, stepping into the chamber they would disperse to reveal safe placement to step - and not a single one would bite, despite how menacing some might be.

Sitting in the center of the room was that very pedestal, the place atop with an empty slot for whatever was supposed to sit there. There were more scriptures along the vertical length of the monument, perhaps a spelling of some sort. It was the same on all four sides.

Across the room, on a platform low in the curved floor of the chamber, was a massive bed still made up night despite how age had touched it. There were no serpents on it save one - that same cobra from before that fled, tail curled up neatly and head level as it stared for those coming in, an intricate headdress of gold fitting on its head with a simple purple gem nestled in the center.

"Poetic almost, given that birds of prey tend to hunt snakes. A creation story perhaps?" He asked inquisitively.

Cairex damn near jumped as the weasel spoke for the first time, a moment of disappointment, he had rather enjoyed the one-sided conversation.

"Got it." He said, stepping into the room behind the weasel, and looking about to see who the weasel was talking about.