4023/Welcome To Barrowville

Welcome To Barrowville
Date of Scene:	17 April 2016
Location:	Lumiere
Synopsis:	The first encounter with a world of Death, known as Lumiere.
Cast of Characters:	Tomoe, Staren, Priscilla, 395, 513, 930, Count Kord, 974

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Carna (974) has posed:
    Those who ventured to the Cavern of Death in response to the supernatural feelings emanating from there, may have found a new natural Warp Gate, in the form of a large hole in the ground, surrounded by piles of skeletal remains. A seeming abyss, that does not look very inviting. But according to ANY form of inspection, by magic, science, psychic power, or mundane senses, it has the properties of a Warp Gate. Dropping down into it results in a seemingly quite long, but slowed, fall through darkness, until eventually the ground simply appears beneath their feet, and they gently touch down...

    Upon an endless expanse of white marble as blank and cold as a tomb. There is no sky. Just a nearly fog-like darkness that swirls around, and a pinpoint of light up above, where those who jumped down came from. A large pair of stone doors, seemingly being held closed by carved skeletons lie nearby. And they grind open whenever someone approaches, exitting out to the desired location if one knows it. By default, however, they deposit people into a place that, at least at present, no one would know the name of. Some sort of town, brushed in smoke and ash, and the scent of blood and death. There are buildings and houses and shops of many different Earth eras scattered around, many of them boarded up or in poor repair. Streets wind every which way, and at least in one location, there's some kind of dim glow more akin to sun light than the burning red of loose embers.

    Directly behind new arrivals, the stone doors grind closed again, now part of a tall wall instead of just standing in the darkness.

    Sometimes the sound of screams can be heard, some in fear or pain, some death cries. Others hysteria or rage.

Finna (513) has posed:
Finna LOATHES ghosts. most ghosts. most undead. Only trustworthy ancestor spirits are not treated with fear, disgust, and panic. So it would seem contrary for her to dive headfirst into this awful place... yet that is exactly what the little white fox did. Rattle-rattle-rattle Ski-ing on a rib cage into the warp gate with a battle-cry like yowl, into the darkness... and flailing around until she eventually touches down in the dark and somber ruins.

    She is here not because she wants to explore, but she wants to make sure it isn't a THREAT.

    Better to deal with problems NOW than let them fester and become BIGGER problems.

    So despite shaking in her fur in spirit, she's mustered up a supply of courage to investigate with EXTREME prejudice.

    That's what she tells herself at least. Until the doors shut behind her. THAT's when the little fox screeches and scampers straight up onto one of the rooftops. Never mind how ludicrous it is to see a fox seemingly defy gravity, the white-furred creature seems to have absolutely NO trouble scaling a shack and taking a tense posture on some rotted rafters.

Count Kord has posed:
    Kord had been drawn here because he is directly connected to Death. It was like a sibling calling out to him, and it became very difficult to resist once he felt the call, just due to the contrast of alien and familiar sensations it would draw out in him. Having encountered few similar feelings to his own nature, he ended up there, on the edge of the portal, with a silent visage and a resonating aura of doom around him. His eyes stared widely through the portal as the Death in the air cracked his calm demeanor, a mortal fear creeping through his skin.

    Despite the goosebumps, he lept into the portal seemingly without more than that second of inspection.

    Once he landed, he took a moment to take stock of his surroundings. It felt like he was Home, but he knew that such a place was no home to a man like himself nonetheless. The stone doors were approached the moment he saw them, and he stepped through again as if possessed by the desire to do so. Something was telling him to investigate, though it wasn't this place itself. Yveltal was whispering in his mind. 'Seek the source of this power' it told him, excited into action in a way few things could cause.

    Kord stopped to appreciate the dilapitated area he ended up at, sniffing in the destruction. His eyes scanned boarded-up building, discarding interest in any that did not have easy access to. The sun light drew his attention quickly. After all, such a sight would stick out in a place like this. He turned and started to walk toward that light, sparing only the most brief of looks toward the others, particularly due to Finna's jumpy behavior. His steps are as silent as a ghost. His quiet behavior really does look hypnotized, though he's still fully in control of his own actions.

Alden (930) has posed:
Alden was not sure at all what was drawing him to this area, but it was quite the powerful pull, enough that he gave up trying to resist and instead made his way towards the 'source' as quickly as he can, only to find one of the most disturbing places he has seen. He might not be a very spiritual person, nor too familiar with the supernatural, but he knows a very bad place when he sees it. He asked Katze to remain back at home, not wanting to risk the shinki, and now he is rather glad of that decision, this place looks bad...

     Normally, he tries to avoid using his energy around too much, but he has no desire to take chances, and a quick slash of a card on his device, a much larger, and fiercer creature stands instead of the gabumon. He is a bit wary of the... portal, but he slowly climbs regardless... He seems rather on edge, but calms down slighty as he sees others, including a small... fox?, huh. He moves quietly, sniffing the air, and just admiring the rather odd area around them.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe had not expected something like this. The Salamander Knight had been just cilling out today but the signal she'd picked up and was making for it. She wasn't sure about the cacerns but she had to check things out. She didn't like thi the thought of Lezard finding this place was not a pretty one. So she was making her way to the warp gane and soon she'd made her way there and it wasn't long before the Salamander was on edge as she generated a small sphere of light after brifly chanting a spell and she looks at everything here.

"What ... is this place?"

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Amalthea comes.
    In spire of her almost hermit-like reticence of late, Amalthea comes. She had been deep in the under lairs of her manse when she felt it, doing little of import aside brooding and sulking in a dark chamber, polishing parts of her armor in rhythmic silence. Then she felt it. The sudden twinge from afar of some thing deep, dark, and strong calling in beckoning.
    "Nngh." The old knight grumbles to herself, considering the call for the span of seven heartbeats. She rises from her throne. Death is something the unicorn knows well. Death is something she knows far better than most immortals ever could, having the mortality of countless lives etched upon her heart so long ago.
    The old knight dons her armor; a layered mix of leathers, chainmail, and light plate, before throwing on the deep blue surcoat of Astora and her cloak, and trudges in the direction from whence the call came.
    Amalthea is here, the ancient knight's silver countenance unmoving as though etched of hard steel as she walks clean past the mounded piles of skeletal remains. And she sees she is not the only person present to heed the call.
    "I am here now." She says, frank and simple, grunting her usual vague recognition and greetings to those she knows; Finna, Tomoe, Priscilla... A brief look lingers upon Kord and alden, but a dip of the unicorn knight's head and horn should at least serve for cordial acknowledgement, once past the gentle feeling of the 'fall'.
    The doors close. She doesn't even look back. "That's what we're here to find out, I suppose." She answers Tomoe, horn glimmering alive with a flickering seashell light, and she's already pressing on down one of the myriad streets. She cares not which way her direction takes her. As long as she might feel it takes her 'closer', if possible, ears pricked up like radar with the sound of each scream.

Staren has posed:
    Staren arrives, glancing over the remains surrounding the hole. Glad he's mechanical at the moment so he doesn't have to deal with biological responses... but being 'creeped out' is a purely mental thing...

    He uses a rope until he's made sure his magitech wings work, then he flies down the hole... Upon landing on a featureless marble plane, he sets a marker down -- he had already left one by the hole outside -- and then recoils as he sees the skeletons holding open the door. "Geeze, talk about macabre... I wonder if maybe we should heed some of these warning signs, but..." he rubs his helmet, "until we find some kind of sealed barrier keeping things in, it'd be better to know what might be entering the Multiverse soon..."

    The doors open to reveal a ruined town. "Geeze..." He looks back, but then follows...

    And the doors slam shut. "Oh, HELL no." Staren turns around and starts trying to push them open. Unfortunately, the robot body he's in today doesn't have superstrength -- it's only on par with a particularly strong human. Although that may not even matter if /strength/ isn't the issue here.

Priscilla has posed:
    It should probably just go without saying why Priscilla has the inclination to at least look at the place. Lordran has been no stranger to what happens as a world decays and dies, never mind the dead, the undead, the Undead, and the domain of death itself, herself least of all. Though the drop is unpleasantly reminiscent of the fall into the boundary of the Abyss, what greets her is far from it. The ash beneath her feet is not the same as before. It does not sift and smoulder with the burning power of a world born, and the potential of a world waiting to be born again. It is cold, coarse and lifeless to the touch. What is left long after something has burnt and crumbled, rather than refined and purified in fire.

    Philosophical gut feelings aside, she's here, in her now-usual gold-trimmed white Anor Londo finery, though for a change, not without its minimalist crown and its dark gem. "The sorry corpse, or perhaps hardly a skeleton, of the place that once was before." She replies to Tomoe. More than an abundance of death, what she senses is an absence of life. A barrenness of spirit that makes her skin crawl. Regardless, there's only one way to move forward, and that is right down the street that presents itself, towards the only feature of note; that distant glow. Long inured to the smell of blood and the sounds of the dying, she has no intentions of skulking and hiding as a thing afraid.

Carna (974) has posed:
    As Count Kord and Priscilla begins heading towards that 'sun light', while its brightness might be similar to the daystar, it would not convey any sense of warmth. Like everything else down here, it is simple steeped in Death. Though perhaps not so much the kind that crawls out of the darkness and seeks to pull your legs off before dragging you back into the shadows with it. A Death that promises peace rather than torment might be a good thing down here. A straight line is perhaps not the most efficient path to this destination, as there are stairs leading down from this initial cobblestoned arrival area to a court with a shattered fountain below, and another road circling around past shops and homes on this same level the group arrived on. As long as one keeps that faint white light in one's vision, it shouldn't be TOO hard to navigate there by following whatever paths are presented...

    ...Probably.

    Staren's attempts to open the doors are successful, and they function much like a Warp Gate, grinding open to allow passage, apparently triggered by his desire to go through them. If he leaves them be, they close again. However unusual it may be, this natural portal seems fully capable of returning everyone to the Cavern of Death if they so choose. Well... Good, then. Being trapped here would probably not be the best thing that could happen.

    Finna's caution about this place, and the apprehensions of Tomoe and Alden, as well as the preprations for trouble, all appear to be well-founded. Because as Amalthea passes by one of the buildings, a distorted cry of aggression and effort accompanies one of the boarded doors getting smashed outwards from within and a humanoid figure in ragged clothing wielding a blade rusted with blood striking slash at her and attempt to drive her over the ledge to the area below.

    What a wonderful greeting.

    While this is going on a figure in hat and cloak looks up from where they were crouched and draws a crossbow. They listen closely to the commotion and wait to see what comes of it.

Staren has posed:
    Staren calms down when the doors open easily. Well, okay then. "Seems we're not trapped here, after all." Still, he sets down another marker before turning around to-- Amalthea's under attack! Still, since this is the first local they've seen, Staren tries not to immediately destroy it, charging and tackling it. "Hey, can you talk?" He won't try to prevent allies from destroying it though, and he'll help if it... well, doesn't talk.

Alden (930) has posed:
Alden's ears perk up, noticing the ragged figure charging at Amalthea, barking loudly, which... might draw moer attention. His first instinct is pinning down the attacker, but sees that Staren has that under control, instead trying to look around again, moving closer and remaining alert in case more... of those people appear, "I guess we are not alone..." he mumbles.

Priscilla has posed:
    Priscilla has little interest in forcing upen boarded doors and windows and nosing about the insides. No doubt they are bereft of anything of use by now. Either filled with abandoned trinkets, looted for their wares, or home only to starved corpses. A fountain is a little more unusual to see, even demolished as it is, implying a little more of a 'lived in' history than just rows of dwellings, which she spares a minute to slowly circle and inspect, before hearing the scream of a madman and one of those dilapidated doors being broken open.

    Alarming as it is, Amalthea is a knight; a very old and experienced one. With several others around her as well, there is also no need to overdo a group effort to protect her. Union Elites especially oft make the mistake of piling all their attentions and resources on the first thing to present itself. Instead, she is more interested in the second figure, apparently sane enough to both stay quiet, and properly aim a weapon. She raises a hand in their direction, her long sleeve sliding a little ways back from her wrist, speaking softly but authoritatively, "Hold. There is no need for such at present, Hollow hunter. I wouldst best like an explanation for this, rather than bolts loosed upon it."

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Let it not be said Amalthea is caught off guard. With her ears pricked and shield in hand she made her progress ready to bring the heavy plate of solid steel up at an instant's notice. That lone blue eye warily watched every corner and alley while she wandered the streets of this dimly lit city of death, a decidedly grim look locked on the unicorn's face, despite her sarcastic musings over the radio.
    However 'repared' does not equate to perfect reaction. The door explodes outwards, her eye twitches towards it. It's on her good side; she can see it- she's not blindsided. But her shield is on her left.
    "MOTHERFU-"
    The shout is a shrill snarl as that rusted blade glimmers darkly at her. Her response is only a fraction of a second after it, shield arm hooking around-- not to defend herself, but to try and BLUDGEON HER ASSAILANT with brutal reprisal, with the edge of her shield as she defensively backpedals, a pace or two to regain her poise and take on a more proper defense.
    She pays no mind to the bloom of liquid silver beginning to form a damp space on her surcoat in the dim gloom.

Count Kord has posed:
    Kord came to a halt and looked aside distractedly to the others and then to Priscilla. Her attention up to the figure that is quietly watching them brought his gaze up toward them, the pale blue lights in that vaguely bird-like helmet shining with a momentary curiosity. He offers only a dismissive wave in that direction, apparently not interested in lingering and talking to them just yet. He wants to move toward the sight of light, and since this place is so winding and sprawling, he tries to take advantage of his trained agility and strength to hop, leap and climb to cut quickest path toward the source of that light. He apparently has no fear of heights, either, if there are any drops.

    He also moves very quietly for a man in armor with a cape. He wants to locate that light because this whole area stinks of being broken and wrong. It may provide a contrast that he'll sorely need, or at least be an area of safety in this... apparently very hazardous realm. He makes sure to take a slow and careful pace so that he doesn't get blindsided like that knight back there did. If he can catch a surprise before it hits him, he stands a better chance of dodging it.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe was no expecting Amalthea to show up but she dfoe move to fall in with her, Finna and Priscilla for the moment. She seems to be on edge right now and she wishes she could fly underground. Oh dear gods she wishes she could do so. She looks to Priscilla for a moment thinks on her words but doesn't have much more to say. She looks about at this place and it reaks of death to her. Evem without any powers to sense such.

The Comm has a bit of chatter that gives her a few more answers.

"Incoming!"

She doesn't have time to say more before she springs into action, there's no real time to waste here as her body moves. She draws her swor and is running at high speed attempting to entage the enemy but then again Amalathea likely will have it down rapidly. Still she's got a job to do right?

Finna (513) has posed:
See? SEE? This is why Finna took to the rafters. Undead are rarely intelligent or coordinated enough to climb. She HISSES and spits at the creature that assaults Amalthea, but doesn't yet move to assist. She's pretty sure that the robocorn can deal with one revenant. Or... whatever that thing is.

    "Where there's one there's more! No getting comfy!"

    With a flash of light she's suddenly got a KNIFE in her jaws. She wrenches her head around and just FLINGS the thing at the back of the revenant's neck!

Carna (974) has posed:
    The figure that Amalthea bashes with her shield, hurling it up against a wall so hard it bounces back off, and directly into the path of Staren's tackle, allowing him to take it down, doesn't seem inclined towards speech. Its eyes are empty holes in a face like wax. Its nose has decayed away, and its lips peeled back to expose an array of uneven teeth, some of which appear to be missing -- though whether due to its prior condition or due to Amalthea's shield attack is unclear.

    As Staren tries to hold it down, it tries to strike at him repeatedly, by blade, tooth, or claw, while letting out guttural, animalistic noises. It does not seem reasonable, whatever it is.

    The sound of Alden's barking and the newly arrived people talking and shouting, draws attention. In the area below, a procession of figures begins to come up with another street, following the sounds (or maybe even the scent) of intruders, in attire seemingly from various eras of Earth's history. Ranging from what some might term 'medieval', to something closer to the early 1900s of England, to at least one wearing piecemeal armor, to one wearing a faded prom dress that drapes like a tent upon a frame so withered and charred that burnt twigs would appear more substantial by comparison.

    As Kord leaps from roof to roof, he may find alleyways below him, piled up with crates and figures standing behind them, waiting for someone to come by, anyone, so that they can ambush them. And given the age of the plate, the stale rot coming off not just the ambushers but the crates as well, they could have been waiting her for years, decades, or centuries, mindlessly determined in their pursuit of this one goal of attacking the first stranger to come within range.

    Some of those not so mindlessly stationary take notice of something in the area when some broken tile slides out of place to crash to the streets, or something inside one of the houses below begins banging on the walls or scrabbling at the ceiling, somehow 'sensing' something nearby, but most do not, and he is long gone before any of them mount an offensive.

    Kord covers quite a bit of territory in his roof hopping, find roads and dead ends and stairs and winding paths that cut back and forth multiple times. And everywhere, the Dead seem to be what holds sway. And no matter how much ground he covers, it almost seems like that light he is seeking is not getting any closer, though he can see a bit more of its source from his elevated position. It's a tall spire or series of spires. It's likely that they are considerably distant, but they have to be attached to something and there's no indication of where their base may be yet.

    What he may notice instead... Is that there's a similar building much closer. A church? But no religious iconography adorns it. Unless skulls, and a wall topped with iron spikes count as iconography. He may have to drop to street level to approach it though, as no other roofs are close by to it. But the area around this church seems to be free of monsters, at least, and to not have the same feel of 'unnaturalness'.

    The dagger thrown by Finna seems to land in the dead thing's neck, penetrating its skull, and it lets out a wheeze of ashes right into Staren's face. It appears Tomoe's charge is unnecessary, but with Priscilla spotting a second figure, who knows? Maybe they're a threat as well. Her blade might still be needed.

Carna (974) has posed:
    The figure, hunkered down by some boxes, slowly rises as it is called to. It doesn't seem they're intending to attack, but given their first encounter so far, one never knows. Still, the fact they then respond is promising. "What are you creatures? You're no Lanterns. And you've too much of yourselves to be Unlit." The voice sounds female. And she appears to be speaking English or something like it. There are some odd inflections. Accents that don't appear tied to a specific nationality or region. But the words are the same, as is all the rest.

    Leaning to look down over the ledge of this causeway to the courtyard below, with its broken stone fountain and the group making their way casually closer as though just coming out to greet the new arrivals, the woman says, "I'm called Carna. This isn't the place for talk, nor the time. If you're not inclined to fight me, I recommend cutting a path to the nearest 'Yard and convening at the Church. A place less sharp and more Lit. I'm setting my course there now. Whether you as well is your own look-out."

Alden (930) has posed:
The digimon whimpers and quickly moves to check on Staren and Amalthea, "Are you two ok?" he asks, especially worried as Staren was the one that got hurt the most. He is not really sure what to do himself, so he will stick with the others, and he thanks Kord for the advice. "Wish I knew where to go, I can likely carry one of you if needed. I can fly, at least for a while." he explains. "I never tried to see how much weight I might be able to carry tho.".

     The digimon sniffs loudly and whimpers, pawing at his nose, before perking his ears, "Church?, which way?" he asks, looking around.

Count Kord has posed:
    Kord grunts when he stops on a high perch, crouching and staring off into the distance. In theory, he could try flying toward it... but he gave an exhausted sigh when he realizes how far away the source of that light really is. It's the Church that he turns his attention to, next, a beacon in a run-down land full of angry undead. He leaps from this last perch down to street level, taking advantage of his ability to fly to soften his landing to a dull 'thump.'

    Even if the area feels safer than the rest of this world, Kord keeps on-guard. The worst tragedy arises from someone growing complacent in a world of danger, a fact he knows all too well. "Yes, yes, quiet down," he mutters to himself, seemingly, waving off the voice of the god-Pokemon jabbering in his head insistently. "This place has really riled you up." It's a good thing that no one is within earshot of him or he would sound pretty cracked right then.

Priscilla has posed:
    "As I hath no idea as to what either of those art, I shalt hath to say neither. We art from outside of this place. There shalt be time for full explanation either, but for now, simply trust that we hath little in common with thine quarry, and most likely only slightly more with thee." Properly focusing in on her, now that the !zombie has been dealt with, one golden eye and one molten orange, catching what little light there is and seemingly emitting some of its own respectively, fall upon Carna, and Priscilla's immediate reaction is a perceptible frown. The soft fur on the spine of her tail bristles ever so slightly, the mismatched, yet iconic appendage going still. "Perhaps less."

    It takes but a moment to convene with Kord, though she still doesn't know his name yet, over the radio, where he has found what he at least believes to be a church. "At the very least, I believeth that thou intendeth us no harm, and so we shalt heareth whatever it is that thou hast to say, as none other here appears to be forthcoming with any word." Rather than dealing with a horde of the dead one swing at a time, Priscilla takes the most expedient, if predictable route, by abruptly disappearing from sight, leaving only a cold, unnaturally chilling gust of air behind her, masking her presence completely, especially on hard cobblestone. In reality, she stays close enough to the rest of the group, so that she can cut down anything that might threaten them unawares, but from time to time she strays ahead to use her overwhelming scouting advantage, leading via radio instruction until the church is within sight.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe is now not sure what the thing is but she's not needed on that one. She's quick to react however as there's more She shifts her blade about she starts to chant as golden runes fly about her, for those who know earth languages it's horribly accented Norse. Still She seems to be casting some sort of protection spell on herself. She seems to be trying to get ready for the next wave but this seem to not be it. She pauses as it speaks to them for a moment. She lowers her blade as a sign of good faith as Carna drops their name.

"No, you don't seem to be mindless why would we? Eh that sounds like a plan."

She'll move to follow after Carna but keeps on guard.

She'll have to trust there are some answers here and she'll keep in formation with everyone else.

Finna (513) has posed:
The knife Finna tossed isn't simply discarded. Silvery string glints like spiderwebs in the deadlight of this strange dark place for just a moment... and Finna uses them to YANk the knife back up into the grip of her jaw.... where she seems to swallow it? In reality, shuffles it back to Elsewhere.

    She's just putting on a bit of a show.

    Think she's gonna wander around on the GROUND for these things to ambush? think again. She's not giving the revenants that opportunity.

    But she DOES hunch down at the ledge of the building nearest Carna.

    "Finna Snowdancer! Just visiting! There this? Not Underworld I know! Lit? Lanterns?" Off she goes, keeping with the group fom the rooftops...

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    It is said, in ancient Sparta, a soldier's shield was more frightening a weapon than his spear or sword. Amalthea is no greek, but the level of violence doled out in that swift and vicious blow speaks volumes of the unicorn's disinclination to pull her punch with that strike.
    "I'm fine." She replies to Alden after a beat, lone eye flicking his way when the 'mon displays such concern. The fact of the matter is, she seems to be completely -ignoring- a vicious gash that would have men rolling on the ground abd screaming, a slow creep of silvery blood greasing up her armor, clenching her teeth to put her mind on other thoughts. "I've lived through worse."
    But now she's looking back up. The myriad figures trudging through the darkness in their clashing dress causes her eye to narrow. The decision is made. To the church then, "Tend to your own means of travel then, I can pull myself along just fine, I'm not -that old- yet." She notes to Alden. "Stick close."
    Priscilla opts to turn invisible- one less person to worry about, and that might be why Amalthea leaps up a wall, boots stomping down on the air itself in a sudden spray of glitter and shimmery rainbow light in a double-jump that carries her to the roofs.
    Discretion is the better part of valor. And right now she is going to discreetely try and figure out the direction of Kord, the Mysterious Figure, and that churh. "Why no. I'm not an Unlit, I'm a Unicorn. And we're probably going to have a load of questions for you when we get there."

Staren has posed:
    Staren sighs as the 'zombie' strikes at him. He's pretty well armored, so unless it's seriously strong it's not getting through, especially while he has it pinned. Still, he tries to end it quickly. He holds his right wrist up to its head and SUDDENLY KNIFE. And ashes right in his face. He's glad for his faceplate and that he's already turned off his sense of smell today.

    Staren stands up, brushing ashes off of his helmet. Hearing commotion, he heads to the ledge or rooftop overlooking the area below and sees... the crowd. Aww shoot. The missile racks on his armor's shoulders pop up. "Hey! Can you guys talk, or are you just mindless zombies down there?" Depending on their response, he may fire explosions of high-tech fiery destruction into the crowd.

    If everyone decides to go to some specific spot after that to meet the mysterious hunter, Staren will follow.

Carna (974) has posed:
    As Kord approaches, he is likely to notice a gate in the fence, with a simple latch holding it closed. Unlatching it and pushing the gate open would allow him inside, where a neatly maintained path between row after row after row of headstones leads up to the church steps, and to a door beyond. If he chooses to linger outside and wait for the others, he may bear witness to a figure exiting the Church, taking stock of the strange man who seems to radiate Death as much as this one that Kord likewise does not know. The stranger wears full body armor seemingly made from stone and with a gargoyle motif... The helm seems quite monstrous. "I've not seen your like around here before." the gargoyle knight offers coarsely. Seemingly male. Around here, it looks like armor is practical enough that it doesn't betray what type of person is wearing it right away, though may lead to assumptions in either case.

    "Be cautious. As you've no doubt found, beyond these gates are plenty of Unlit looking for a meal, and aye, Lanterns that wouldn't mind harvesting some Dead Lights. But by the look of ye, 'shouldn't be anything ye can't handle." Hefting a huge stone sword onto his shoulder, the stranger then walks heavily down the path and towards what seems to be a little white spire, shining with warmthless light, not unlike the one that led Kord here in the first place. The knight vanishes from existence a few moments later, as shimmering gold radiates from the spire.

Carna (974) has posed:
    Carna seems to take the others at their word, not being overly perturbed by talking critters or digital monsters or 'unicorns' whatever those are. They say they are not a threat to her or at least are willing to listen to what she has to say. And while that doesn't mean she trusts them, they easily have the numbers to overwhelm her and take her down right now and haven't. Attacking them when she's out numbered would be suicidal. However, one gets a bit more attention. She seems to peer back at Priscilla just as hard as the latter looked at her. It's hard to tell through her clothing that masked even whether she was male or female until she spoke, but there might a bit more defensive posture to her shoulders as she turns to lead the way back along the route she took to get here. "That may be. But something to consider elsewhere." Priscilla vanishing ratchets up her tension level considerably, but she just starts backing up, knowing she has cleared the main thoroughfare and says, "This way then--"

    Staren yelling out to the beings below gets him no verbal response, though a few let out more of those bestial noises, the prom dress-wearing undead emits a thin, high-pitched sound of agitation, and soon enough the whole crowd starts rushing the stairs in a chattering mob intent on getting up to where the intruders are. Staren's missiles detonate in their midst, destroying several, scattering others. The ones that aren't immediately defeated get back up eventualy, even if on fire, though some fall back down again when the flames claim them. The rest resume charging. One holds back and starts shooting at Staren with a blunderbuss or something like it right as he moves to follow the others.

    "Come on, fool! Save your Murmurs for proper targets!" Carna hisses, not waiting for anyone who lags behind as she takes off running down the causeway, following the winding path past tenantless houses, as dead things begin spilling out into the streets thanks to the ruckus. Soon, with Elites both visible and non following the only local who hasn't tried to kill them, they'll have a bit of a run to get out of there as everything from molotov cocktails to crossbow bolts to screams of horror made into magical attacks comes their way.

Carna (974) has posed:
    Even if the Elites take down those who get in their way, even if they stop to fight off the growing horde behind them, even if, individually, the creatures might not be the strongest, the sheer number of them and the variety of armament, and how every other door seems to explode and produce another half-dozen enemies...

    Adrenaline, or whatever equivalent they have, carries them through, until to a small alcove, and a dead end. The ones on the roofs may still have a way out of here, and any others who can join them, but anyone who can't... Have they just followed Carna to their deaths???

    With at least several dozen beings chasing after them, Carna touches a small white spire glowing in front of her, and the Elites all got whisked away in golden light... Only to appear in the Church's yard, with Kord.

    Carna seems to not be in great shape from getting tackled and chopped a couple times despite a tendency to roll out of the way of attacks. But even with her wounds she doesn't seem to be bleeding.

Count Kord has posed:
    Kord silently stares back to the unusual figure. He tilts his head, an animated gesture of confusion trained into himself due to his tendency to wear a mask. It also properly conveys a slightly inhuman nature, despite him being a mortal human by blood. He offers a friendly wave to the man as he departs, giving him a warm, "Thank you, stranger," and then he approaches the spire of light to give it a proper lookover. His eyes are focused keenly on it, because it feels like he's standing near his ancestor god itself.

    Which means he is right there when people are drawn through from another location and end up in the church graveyard. He is standing there with bright surprise in his gaze.

    "Oh. Hello," he greets, pleasantly enough, as if he were one of those seemingly perfectly ordinary knights one would meet in, say, Lordran. Carna's presence draws his gaze.

    "Do you know the man in the beastly armor?" he wonders at this other stranger in his vaguely Romanian language, indicating his own helmet by way of example, "He left mere moments before you arrived."

    Kord is choosing to overlook any damage the party has sustained by riling up the dead that fill this place. He doesn't need to remind them that this is a terrible place to make a lot of noise. "This place seems safe," he observes, for everyone else's benefit. "I have stood here for long enough to see there's nothing that is itching to claw my flesh off." Kord seems incredibly relaxed, despite seeing so much vicious undead. This world just feels comfy to someone that always gives off a sensation of Death anyways.

Priscilla has posed:
    Being invisible has its advantages; specifically, a couple of really big ones that Priscilla has made an art of using for ages. Especially surrounded by more visible, and much louder Elites, the only chance of being directly attacked comes from a stray or missed shot, which she seems to have had little trouble navigating around, smashing aside the odd creature that gets in the way of the group's forward progress. She's about ready to turn back and fight; bottleneck the dead at the corridor and take them on Thermopylae style, or perhaps start pulling people to the rooftops, when the odd beacon shines, and she finds herself deposited somewhere else completely with the rest of the group.

    She barely misses the beat. Traveling by Bonfire is actually not a thing she's ever done, but a church is a church and she had specified the yard. She barely has to spare a glance for those bloodless wounds. It seems she's already gotten the idea. "Thou hast a great many things to explaineth." she says as she re-apparates; a stark, almost luminescent white ghost against the unbroken black and grey. Now there is a bit of an aura about her. Her idle, observer's countenance gone, the area directly around her is mildly uncomfortable to stand in. A kind of vague, existential dread. The little squeeze in one's stomach when looking down from the edge of an impossible drop, or the contemplation right before losing consciousness before surgery that one might never wake up again. "There is little need to explain thineself however. It is already obvious that thou art a thing deceased."

Staren has posed:
    Blunderbuss! Staren's armor can take that, but he doesn't want to get stuck in a zombie horde all the same... Staren starts running on Carna's advice. He fires a warning shot behind him--

    Warning: Reactor disconnected, FIWS cannon on battery. AMMO 29/30

    --then decides not to waste further ammo. He just runs. At least this body doesn't get tired...

    "...A dead end?! What now?!" And then they teleport! "Oh. That's what, I guess. Is this place safe... Oh! You're hurt!" His own armor covered in scratches and dents, he approaches her, thinking to render first aid -- before he notices she's not bleeding. "Um..."

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe is quiet for the moment as she follows Carna but there's one thing clear about the very tall pointed eared woman she seems nervous, on edge with this place like the enviorment. She does however seem to be lookng at CArna with good intrest she does see she's not dong so well as they now moeve ahead into a Chruch yar with Kord she seems started but calms down soon enough.

"Okay that was not expected...Yes Staren. Looks like some teleport..."

She pauses looking at Carna and that they are not bleeding. Okay soimething's up here and she doesn't like where it's going.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Unicorns seem to be a particularly cantankerous breed, prone to cursing and growling under their breath while traversing rooftops and bitching incessantly about always being the one to run into zombies. "Methinks they are unlikely to talk, boy." She notes to Staren along the way. "Murmurs?" Asided to Carna in idle questioning.
    The delige hail of everything but the kitchen sink has Amalthea quickening her pace, the occasional double jump blasting colorful light everywhere, or a rocket propelled leap from her jump pack propelling her along in breakneck jinks before coming to a halt. Blade drawn now, she prepares to make a stand right up until Carna touches the stone and... She finds herself in a churchyard.
    "You're not bleeding." Amalthea notes wholly blandly, after a cursory inspection of the one non-murderous local among them, none too surprised at Priscilla's assessment. It wasn't a question after all.
    Her sword goes away, if the churchyard is without the unlit undead as it seems to be. "Oh hey fancy running into you again." Asided to Kord. "Have fun drinking tea with your new friend here while we were off dealing with restless natives?" It's not really... Hostile. It's just an easier coping method after nearly getting mob-lynched as a group.

Finna (513) has posed:
Finna's nto too worried about the horde Staren stirred up. They don't look capable of catching her or piercing Staren's armor... but there are others in the group that are a bit more vulnerable. And so she hightails it across the rooftops, following them to... a dead end?

    "What?! Where's the escape route?!" Her broken tribal tongue's momentarily dropped in favor of MORE PROPER GRAMMAR tribal tongue for just a moment out of sheer surprise. Even more surprise when, in the next moment... there's a mighty glow and they're all dropped over somewhere else. Somewhere without all the zombie-things.

    The little fox blinks a few times... then rises up on her hind legs. Of course by the time she's standing up straight she's no longer a fox, but a woman in her late teens, maybe early early twenties. Grinning up a wild storm and adjusting her oddly-white hair the color of the fur she just ditched. She's dressed like a hunter from the wilds in animal skin attire, colorfully stitched together. She's a wirey, lithe thing, and is quick to plant a hand on her hip. "Neat trick! Where in hell or the underworld are we now?"

    She's again shifted lingually to Riverspeak...

Carna (974) has posed:
    The tension in Carna doesn't dissipate upon arrival, for many reasons. Partially due to the unrecognized man asking her about if she knows someone who just left, who seems to have a similar feel to a Lantern, but... Is he one? She can't tell. Then there's Priscilla's sudden reappearance and that aura that had her on edge before even more noticeable now. Then there's Finna not looking like she did previously, and shifting through language that Carna doesn't even know how she understands. And people talking about her non-bleeding wounds like they're unusual somehow. And this 'unicorn' who is one of the most alien of all present. All of it together just has her on edge and with no reason to relax. The one who cast explosions into the midst of the Unlit has earned her ire as well. If this were not a sanctuary...

    So that, combined with barely making it out intact, give her little cause to take a load off. The unsettling aura, infact, seems to be exactly what made her tense in the first place. Or maybe she just didn't like getting peered at that way, like she was beeing seen through, and she doesn't have a reason to relax now when whatever rotten skin she has crawls. "Deceased? You mean Dead? Yes." She tilts her head somewhat as she pokes her gloved fingers through the holes in her clothing where blades had slashed her on the way. "Are you saying you're something else?"

    There are bloodstains but it's coagulated and cold, and nothing new flows. She withdraws a flask from her hip, while turning so that she's always facing the group as she backs up towards the church. "This is a Church of Bleak Mercy. Lanterns come through here, for many reasons. That doesn't mean I know them all." She answers Kord while explaining to these strangers. "Unlit can't enter here. Unlit are the ones what almost ate us alive. Dead without any Light inside of them. Mad things that only care about killing and eating your Dead Lights, and it needn't be in that order."

    She eyes everyone, as she uncorks her hip flask, and guzzles down what seems like... Condensed life force or 'spiritual energy'? Something like that. Much like the Unlit she just described. The difference is that after two swallows, her pale face and torn clothing, and bloodless wounds all seem refreshed. her injuries are gone, and even her clothing repaired.

    She looks to the enthusiastic Finna, squinting at her, and says, "We're in Barrowville. What part of Lumiere are you from? It has to be pretty far away to know even less than me about this place." She scans the crowd, and backs up a bit more, though at least turning somewhat as she heads for the door of the Church. "Infact, why don't you start from the beginning and tell me who and what all of you are inside. This feels like a long story, and I'd like to write it down so I don't lose it."

    Pointy eared people, foxes that turn into other things, giants who can turn invisible, men who seem like Lanterns but not, 'unicorns' that bleed silver, and that dog-like thing, and the armored man who hurled fire bombs... She isn't as blown away by all this as she is suspicious.

Count Kord has posed:
    "You had trouble with them?" Kord wonders toward Amalthea, with faux surprise, just to verbally prod her after her remark. He knows fully well that dealing with all of those undead would have been troublesome. "I had the utmost confidence in all of your abilities, as you all seemed to when you started shouting and sparking explosions in the distance," he tells Amalthea, waving off in that vague direction. "I avoided a fight because that's simply something I prefer to do." Except in this instance, clearly. If she's going to punch him, it's clear that he's waiting for her to try. He stares at her for a beat or two after that, though there are distractions that are more important than two warriors exchanging barbs.

    Carna starts heading into the Church, and Kord turns to follow. He craves an explanation just as much as the rest of the party.

Staren has posed:
    Something else? Staren rubs the back of his helmet. "Um... yes? I mean, I can /kind/ of cheat death, but it's complicated and it doesn't mean becoming a walking corpse. "Lanterns?" he echoes, then watches her heal. "Oh."

    And then she asks. For the truth!

    "I'm from another world... we all are. What I am inside... I'm me!" he shrugs. "I mean... I'm half human and half not... I guess it's complicated." he slumps a bit. "Physically, this body is a machine. A... construct. This is temporary for me... I've been studying a way to cheat death by transferring consciousness, soul, whatever you want to call it, in and out of machines... I happened to be in this body to run some tests, when I heard that that mysterious portal had appeared on the surface." His faceplate retracts, and he smiles. "I'm Staren, by the way! A researcher, I guess you could call me..." he extends a hand to shake.

Priscilla has posed:
    "Quite so." Priscilla responds blandly to the mincing of terms. "I am something apart from the others, debatedly perhaps not even alive, but I am certainly not dead. If a Lantern referreth to a person, I am left only to assumeth that it is one such as thee. One who at least feigns life, and hast some standard of intelligence. Those that possesseth something the creatures out there desire, if the theme of light is to be taken at all seriously." What lovely names. Even the church looks depressing and unwelcoming, even if it feels calm. No doubt those who live here have long ago come to see the grim skulls and iron spikes associated with comfort and relief. She looks askance at the woman chugging through that bottle of 'life' however. She is far from unfamiliar with healing magic and potions, but the substance is clearly stolen, and being drained to bolster its drinker's fading similarity to something other than a corpse.

    "It is as Sir Staren sayeth. None of us art from this Lumiere whatsoever. Beyond these walls which hath parted for us, there is another world entirely. One far larger and more vivid than this. I daresay that we hath nothing in common with this city nor its dwellers." She then briefly looks as if she is about to laugh sarcastically, except she basically never laughs at all. "Inside I am naught but a bastard abomination, born to a wellspring of light and warmth and an avatar of unliving immortality from before time immemorial; heir to a Lord of cinders and ashes and now Queen to a kingdom of sunlight. I am four great souls of those that came before me, one of mine own that once brought nothing but sorrowful ends, and the conquered essence of calamity, haphazardly sewn together by will and circumstance. There is little that wouldst describe it save an ironic epic for all the ages. Now, praytell, what precisely is inside that decaying shell of thee?"

Finna (513) has posed:
"Nooooo place at all! Lumiere meaning this whole musty place? Nuh-uh... we're from sunlit lands!" She points... vaguely upwards... then looks that way herself, frowning. "Well. I hope it's that direction! Slid down a bit... took a long fall.... and now here we are, surrounded by doom and gloom!" She claps her hands together with mock joy and sways about, posing happily. "What a WONDERFUL neighborhood!" Yeah. YEAH. So not.

    Returning to a more natural stance, she purses her lips a bit then frowns. "Okay, I'll bite. What's the purpose of this place? It's NOT the Underworld...?"

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    "Yes. That is exactly what we're saying. We're not undead." Amalthea confirms, a sudden hiss of steam venting from one of the mechanical mythic's joints. Alien indeed, she jerks her thumb around the circle. "Priscilla's some kind of dragon god, Finna's some kind of champion picked by a moon god, Tomoe is a hardcore MMO player, and Staren is a catboy." She pauses on that one, looking to his armor. "Usually."
    But then Kord engages her. The unicorn slowly turns to the man, lone eye regarding him for a long moment. "Hey. I'll own up to the shouting, but don't go pinning explosions on me." She replies, waggling a finger.

Staren has posed:
    Staren looks to Kord and adds, "Hey, I didn't know, they might've been people! Once it was clear they weren't... I thought I could blow 'em all up, I... didn't realize how many there were." he admits, sheepishly.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe doesn't seem to make any hostile movies but she's on edge now and she's looking at the non bleeding wound. She knows she's not the norm given her own existnce but seeing someone whose not a constuct like her not bleed? She looks at Carna and nods once.

"I am very much not dead, I'm very much alive still."

She notes looking her over for a moment and she talks about the Church for a moment.

"Mindless undead, yes. They are not a pretty thing to deal with.

"I'm not from Lumiere I'm adraid but the name is Tomoe the Iron Lily."

She bows slightly but she seems to be relaxing a bit now as others also add to the bit they are not from around here.

Carna (974) has posed:
    Inside is a building spacious enough for this crowd, and some bits of furniture. Pews and places to kneel and pray perhaps. Stained glass windows in red and black depicting darkness below and a rain of blood from above. Unlike outside, it seems well-maintained, even if still rather dead-ish. Carna takes a seat moments after everyone piles in and starts explaining things, and pulls out a journal of some kind, into which she is jotting everything down, and sometimes repeats things out loud. "Player... Four souls... Goddess-picked... Cat half-human... Unicorn... Fine." She closes the book eventually, putting away her pen inside of it. "Fine, then. You're saying you're all Living. Fine. Then you're saying the stories I've heard are true, that there's a World of Ashes up there somewhere, and you've come to... What?"

    She seems more frustrated than impressed by the explanation she's gotten as she pinches her fingers to the bridge of her nose, and closes her eyes. Eventually, she takes in a breath that she probably doesn't even need, and removes her hat from head, revealing hair as deep red as heart's blood with a similar sheen to it in the right lighting, up in a tight bun, a few loose strands dangling here or there. Outwardly, she looks human. Alive even, if a bit pale. But Priscilla has already noticed what's inside of her. And it's already been confirmed that she's dead or undead, or 'Dead' with a capital 'D' or SOMETHING.

Carna (974) has posed:
    "I'm going to be honest. I don't know a great deal. I don't even know how long I've been sane. Three journals' worth? But this is what I know. There are so many Unlit underneath us, that I don't know if I could count them if I tried. They are Dead without selves, without minds, only hunger and fear and rage. I used to be one. All Lanterns did. I don't remember what it was like. All I know is, somehow, I was one. And at some point, I killed and ate enough sane Dead up here in Lumiere, ones who had never been Unlit, that I got a spark of them inside of me. And I woke up to all THIS." She gestures around at the obvious splendour of this world or whatever it is. "I don't know if it's an underworld or what. I guess if you're from the World of Ashes, you might see it as underneath you. All I know is I want to find out if I was ever really a person or if what's inside of me is just what I've taken from someone else. If I'm real, or a mockery, or anything at all. A Lantern is an Unlit that's become Lit. A light in the darkness. A spark of self, of sanity. Dead Lights, the stuff what made up the sane Dead that used to be around here, you can only get from others. You kill Unlit, you get any Dead Lights they've stolen. You find a Lantern who died and didn't come back, and you can take what they left behind. If I die, I have to go find my Dead Lights before someone else does or I'll have to start all over. And if I want to fix myself up, I need to refill my Drops of Styx. Spirits without homes or selves, turned to naught but sustenance for the rest of us."

    She wiggles the bottle before putting it back. "I know bits and pieces. And I don't even know if any of that's right. The Peacemaker here might be a better source of information. But I do know one thing: If you're really Living, you had best be careful. I've only heard a few stories. But they don't paint you all in a favorable shade. You seem reasonable enough, but that might not be enough for some." She gets back to her feet, looking everyone over again. And finally, she relaxes somewhat and actually seems to be taking in everything that's been thrown at her in such a short period of time.

    Well, no, she's not. There's still an awful lot she doesn't understand, doesn't have the context for, doesn't even know where to start with. But some of it is sinking in at least. These are the Living. The Living! Mythical beings out of legend. Even someone as ignorant as Carna can see they're different. Special. Even that man who has yet to say what he is, the one that smells like a Lantern...

    "...You're about to make this place a lot more interesting than it already was, you know. And I'm not sure if that's good or bad."

    Just then, another woman's voice can be heard. Song-like, soothing. "Welcome, visitors." A woman in a somewhat priestess or nun-like outfit appears. Except heavier on white than black. She has an opaque veil of her eyes, with little gold chains dangling from the bottom, and connecting to her collar, leaving her mouth looking 'caged'. "I am Peacemaker Longita. What can the Church of Bleak Mercy do for you?"

    Carna just gestures towards her. "She knows more than I do."

Staren has posed:
    Staren blinks at Carna's existential crisis. "You're you. Whether you were 'really a person' or you're 'a copy of someone else', you're you NOW, you're /a person/... sorry. I guess my philosophy's not what you wanna hear." he sighs and slumps again.

Finna (513) has posed:
Into the church people go... and Finna hears a far drearier and more disturbing explanation than she was counting on. It gets her teeth clenched and throat dry. She swallow nervously, trying to hide her disgust.

    "Well! ... not sure what to make of that, but you're strolling on a rough road." The Lunar folds her arms over her chest, looking on with a sour look. "This place sounds like the Underworld... but there's not lots of Ashes where I'm from. More like snow! Plenty of snow in the winter... plenty of mud in the summer. And mosquitos, yuck." She makes a face.

    But before she can say more... another weird person comes over. The foxgirl blinks a few times... her tail wagging awkwardly and legs fidgeting in place.

    "Peacemaker... is that something like a shaman or dreamseer? Finna... from the living lands. Probably not the ones of your tales either. What IS this place? Why so many dead? The ruins, the doom, the gloom?"

Priscilla has posed:
    This is all eerily familiar, if much more depressing. The dynamic is the same, or rather similar, though the reasons are entirely different. The sights and sounds and even the atmosphere are reminiscent, but not alike all the same. More than anything, Priscilla gets the idea that this is a world of the dead. Not the dying, not the Undead, not life-and-death, and certainly not of resurrection. This may very be a world without a history at all; bleak and fathomless rather than ruined and sorrowful. "World of Ashes?" is all she has left to prompt out of Carna. "The situation is . . . not entirely unfamiliar to me. If this is the case, it may be best to leaveth with us. I am certain there is much that many wouldst wish to asketh of thee."
    And then the Peacemaker, with an actual name. "Well met. I am Priscilla, Archlord and Queen of Anor Londo." As denoted by that crown, though little more than a band of fluted silver titanite, set with that jet black . . . is there a pattern there? The gemstone seems to have developed some white-grey whorl to it, spiraling inwards as if drawn into the stone's depths. Was that always there? "I would ask that thou beginneth with what this church is for, what it worships, and how it obtained such a name. Then perhaps thine own function here as a Peacemaker. There is precious little we art able to infer."

Count Kord has posed:
    Whether or not Kord had a desire to antagonize one of the heroes among the group a moment ago, he found himself standing and silently observing. He frowns behind his helmet as she describes all of this, and turns away with his arms crossed in thought once it becomes clear that she's more of an accidental life than one of the natural residents of this place. That she was once one of these things that lunged even for him... He sighs to himself. It's clear it troubles him, even though he doesn't have much to say on the matter.

    Kord turns his attention on Staren as he speaks up toward Carna. He unfolds his arms after this to direct his attention instead to the Peacemaker, similarly glancing aside at Priscilla and trying to think of something not yet covered by the rest of the questions.

    "What is that structure of light?" Kord indicates vaguely in the direction of that light he was trying to reach earlier and gave up on when it was seen to be too distant to reasonably reach.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe got a lot to take in here she did not mean to cause CArna distress however she looks asad as she has her crisis of faith as it were. She says nothing for now here but she does listen and looks to the new woman who has shown up she bows slightly to her for a moment and looks at Longita and says "We have come ... from another world, when we encountered a great disturbacne which lead us here."

she looks back to CArna sympathically as she knows how hard the multiverse can be to take in.

Carna (974) has posed:
    Carna sits back down and shrugs at Staren and Tomoe, taking no offense at what either have said. "It's as good as anything else. But it does not have in words the meaning I seek in actuality. To say it is one thing. To feel it is another. If I don't write down my thoughts and experiences I lose them. I'm that much in pieces. There are Lanterns out there little better than Unlit, who fell into madness. Obtaining a sense of self doesn't imply we get to keep it. Especially if stolen." She brushes off her hat and letting the other woman take over.

    The Peacemaker addresses everyone in turn. She says to Finna, "The World of Ashes is where the Living once dwelled. What you describe is, according to scripture, what it was once like long ago, before the Living destroyed it. Lumiere is not what it once was. It is not 'the Underworld', but rather its apex. The point closest to the world above. How long it has been since the last visitation to that world is unknown. Not since before the Lords of Silence vanished, and the First Lantern went to repair the link between the worlds of Life and Death, has there been a presence like yours."

    Then she turns to the queen present. "Though I apologize for saying so, a presence EXACTLY like yours, your majesty, I can not say with certainty has ever visited this plane before." Longita curtsies somewhat to Priscilla. "We are honored to have royalty here, even if the lands you hail from be unknown to us. The Church of Bleak Mercy is, like Lanterns themselves, a light in the darkness. Our purpose is to provide support, comfort, restoration, and other services to Lanterns, regardless of their origins or intent... Though we encourage them towards a particular objective, if we can."

Carna (974) has posed:
    "I am still only an adept within the Church. I have been informed through scripture and record, but I do not know all things." Longita bows again in apology. "What we worship here, however, I can state clearly: The Light that will eventually guide those condemned to this cycle of suffering and destruction to return home. The champion Lanterns that seek the recalcitrant Lords of Silence, to use that which they were appointed to wield for the good of the Dead awaiting rebirth, and instead keep for themselves. If that could be obtained, a Lantern might link the worlds once more, and learn what kept the First Lantern from returning for us. And then, freedom from the Darkness beneath us. The greater the strength of such a champion Lantern, the greater the obstacles they will face. Thre Darkness itself will respond, and it will be a long and deadly struggle to obtain all of the Silent Lights. The ability to return from physical destruction, and try again, is why only Lanterns can make the attempt. Ones such as I, survivors of the Unlit invasion, would fall in the attempt, and be consumed."

    Carna shifts uncomfortably a bit. She was one of those Unlit who ate people like Longita. She does gesture towards her though while facing everyone else and says, "So that it's known, this all is news to me. I've only heard pieces, and none like this." She also peers up at Priscilla's crown... Has that changed somehow...?

    The Peacemaker bows again. "My apologies. You didn't seem interested in scripture before." She then focuses on Kord and says, "That is Aetheir Cathedral, where Peacemakers like myself receive training. The leader of our order can be found there, maintaining the archives, and looking after the remaining Lit -- those of us who had Light and self of our without needing to take it, and waited patiently until a time when we could rejoin the world above. Though many of us are too young to have experienced the long wait, High Matron Sepulchre assures us this was the way of things. Aside from the Lords of Silence, and certain ancient ones, she is possibly the eldest resident of Lumiere."

    Longita smiles faintly and says, "Of course, to hear her tell it, this Lumiere is not even the only Lumiere, and there are others that exist alongside it, with their own Lanterns, and their own Peacemakers, and possibly even their own Sepluchre. So a world of the living that is not the one we know is not quite as shocking as it must be for a Lantern."

    Carna hmphs. She doesn't like how ignorant she looks now. But she's writing down everything she hears at a furious pace.

Staren has posed:
    Staren nods a little. "So it's not that you want reassurance of personhood, it's that you want to find a way to keep your continuity..." Staren rubs his chin. "Hmm. I can sympathize with your concern, certainly, but I can't begin to offer aid until I understand a lot more about what's going on here." He holds his hands out in a helpless shrug. "I did say I was a /researcher/, and I haven't had a chance to /research/ yet."

    Staren turns to the Peacemaker. "Nice to meet you..." he nods his head. "Up above, is just... a hole, surrounded by bones. I'm sorry... either that is all that is left of your World Above, or it's somewhere else now."

    He rubs his head. "So... we need to find these silent lights, is that it? Wait... You're /not/ a lantern?" He peers at the peacemaker, then pulls what looks like a flipphone out of his bag and holds it towards her, scanning for lifesigns.

Finna (513) has posed:
"Priestess of dwindling light." Finna murmurs in her native tongue, just barely audible. "Luna's light is kinder than this empty one..." She peers off towards the structure being described. "... But not much." The young woman inhales, exhales... and hugs herself, shivering where she stands. This place is getting to her!

    Enough so that she sees fit to summon up her anima. Wisps of silvery light gently billow out from her skin, wrapping her up in a gentle glow like a comfortable campfire. Not bright enough to blind or distract much, but strange nonetheless. Particularly as darker shades swirl within it, purple and black and darkness itself... yet the darkness is of the night, different from this place's - and certainly not hostile. The illumination is odd indeed. Shadows cast by it play tricks on beholders. The unquestionably divine light of Luna casts the sensation of a cool spring night, damp and crisp. It conjures feelings of mischief, of wild ideas and the primal side of life, but it is perhaps better than the bleak light the group's been exposed to so far.

    Finna wraps herself up in the light and just SHIVERS. "Land of the dead... forced to live in here... for who knows how long. Far from fun."

    "We... we just came because a GREAT HOLE opened up, reeking of death and some unknown purpose. /I/ came to investigate. Thought it might be a Deathlord readying his armies for invasion or foul creatures ready to invade! This... I'm not sure what to do about THIS." She looks down, still hugging herself and now clenching her teeth.

Priscilla has posed:
    There it is. Full admission that Carna is not someone who has lost their humanity and reclaimed it, but someone who has no idea if she ever had any to begin with. Priscilla feels quiet vindication in her ill-ease around the woman, or creature masquerading as a woman, at least. It's no wonder that she claims some of these Lanterns go mad. Hearing that everyone alive has apparently destroyed themselves, and their world however, puts things in better perspective. Why she had felt that sense of this world being over, rather than ending. The kind of oblivion of everything long gone instead of simply forgotten and yet within grasp. It is, perhaps, a little sad.

    "Thou hast mine gratitude, but I am a queen of little import here. It is mine to command the living, not the dead, and slay those who wouldst refuseth to die, not those who who wouldst long for life. Death itself is not mine domain. However said, I am well able to approveth of thine aims. In these reproachable times, it is more important than ever that those riding its currents be given refuge from time to time, in whatever form possible; or else surely tire and drown."

    She ponders the sprinkled references to these 'Lords of Silence' however. It doesn't seem to be an accident that she feels the same connotation in the words. "Gods remiss in their duties. Deserters to their people and their purpose. I cannot say I wouldst condemn one better suited to simply taketh them from them. Such responsibility, and such power, is something to be earned. If one cannot justify one's possession of it, and cannot defend it, thou hast no right to it." The idea that these are spirits awaiting reincarnation isn't familiar but neither unknown to her. It seems straightforward that the dead left with mind and dignity should be able to suffer disaster and sorrow as any other. "I wouldst also assume that thou wouldst be loathe to leave this place, though thou art of course welcome to. Unfortunately, it shalt be some time before we may returneth with something more substantial than a mere party of onlookers, but consider ourselves at least, allies in this endeavour."

Count Kord has posed:
    "This world feels like a second home to me," Kord admits, feeling the exact opposite of disturbed where all the others dislike this place. "But it could use some... help," he notes, glancing aside at Lantern Carna for just a second, "Some searching, some way to bring some balance and natural light to this world, whatever that may mean here." His voice is calm, quiet and respectful when speaking to the Peacemaker, as if he held some reverence to her that she might understand. Like speaking at a funeral, perhaps.

    "I will seek out an audience of the High Matron," he declares, "If she is as old as you believe, then it would be wise to get her counsel. It could enlighten us on the path these Lanterns should take..." He looks aside meaningfully to Carna, aware that she, more than anyone else in the room, needs answers... because she has been in true existence for only a very short time. The others get a look as well, though mostly out of interest in whether they'd offer to join him.

    "I am Kord," he introduces, "Living but connected to Death." He bows to the Peacemaker, finally. The introduction, he feels, was not that important. With that out of the way, at least, he steps out of the way until the party discovers something else of interest.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe wants to try to understand but is having a bit of trouble with that. She is sitll trying and hse's listening to Prricilla's words. There's not much for her to say she's clearly lost in thought about things for the moment. She is however clearly paying attention right now she doe showever introduce herself. "I am Tomoe the Iron Lily, and thank you for the information."

Carna (974) has posed:
    According to Staren's scans, like everything else down here, the Peacemaker is Dead. Not just 'something alive that is deceased', but 'absent of any signs of once having been alive'. Not a walking corpse, because there is no flesh, not a ghost, because she is not a spirit encroaching upon the world of the living, but just something that is not alive and might never have been. A soul that has waited so long for reincarnation, that she has grown her own personality in the meanwhile.

    She either does not see Staren's phone through her veil, or does not understand its purpose. She does seem to turn to focus on Finna, however, when that odd light starts to glow around her and carry things with it... Her expression doesn't change, and neither does her body language. But somehow it just feels like she is very, very closesly inspecting this phenomenon.

    Longita turns away, however, when Priscilla speaks, focusing solely on the monarch of another realm, as she explains. The Peacemaker listens intently, nodding when appropriate, folding her hands together within draping sleeves. "You are a wise ruler, then, and we are blessed to have your aid. According to scripture it has been so long since the Living walked, that the total length of their existence has passed thrice over. And yet here are new Living, come to bring salvation instead of destruction. High Matron Sepulchre will be most pleased to hear this. Together with the Lanterns, this may be what allows us to finally be free!" The 'young' priestess sounds quite enthusiastic. It is hard to say if she is truly as young as she looks, however. It sounds as though she's been waiting quite awhile to be born into a new body as a living person.

Carna (974) has posed:
    She bows to Kord when he introduces himself, and says, "You had the feel about you, but I could not be certain. You, also, are welcome here. I will pass along your desire for an audience to the Cathedral, though presently travel there is forbidden. It is a matter of safety. We are the only Lit remaining in Lumiere. As necessary as Lanterns may be, without Lit to provide guidance, history, and motivation, many of them would fall to the Darkness, madness, and despair. If all the Dead are Lanterns, we might be nearly as doomed to failure as if all the Dead were Unlit. To risk Unlit or Lanterns entering our sacred sanctuary is something that will need to be carefully considered."

    During all this, Carna has been thoughtful. Writing, yes, but thinking things through. She looked upon the light that Finna gave off... A bit... Hungrily. And she remains fixated on the descriptions and feelings of a world she has never known even if that Anima goes away. This might be the evidence she needs. The means to understand her true nature, to actually CONFIRM it without a single doubt, and to come to terms with it. Is she a shell that stole its personality and is only acting like that person until it runs out of fuel? Has she always been a monster, or was she, like Longita, once a Living person, who for some reason lost her Light? What are her origins? Her future? She's honestly less interested in the fate of Lumiere than she is in her own fate.

    But seeing these people, coming forth and offering to help... These Living... She wants to know more. Maybe she can become like that as well.

    Longita says, "Meeting all of you has been an honor and a pleasure. I, myself, must remain here. Lanterns still need me. This is my duty. However..."

Carna (974) has posed:
    Carna stands up, puts her hat back on her head, and says, "...There is nothing keeping me here. I think it might be beneficial to see how the Living live. If nothing else... I might become better equipped to take up the Peacemaker's quest." She gets the feeling that she is probably going to die a lot. Over and over and over. Having a reason to keep coming back, the strength to keep on going, is going to be critical to not winding up like the others. And these Living... These PEOPLE... Might be the ones to provide that. Something inside of her needs them. A noble spark. Even if it isn't hers, it demands she try.

    "So," Carna begins as she smiles. "Do you think we can get back to those gates without getting too much unwanted attention this time?"

Staren has posed:
    Unfortunately, Staren's scanner isn't /that/ fancy. Still, she does not register as alive.

    Carna gives her request. Staren nods. "Sure. Finna, would you mind scouting ahead? This way..." he stops long enough to turn back to the Peacemaker. "It was good to meet you. Hopefully we will meet again soon." And then he walks out of the church, and starts walking towards the device he left by the door, tracking it by radio.

Finna (513) has posed:
"Sure, sure!" Finna exclaims, breaking out of her funk and shaking her head back and forth rapidly to clear it. Her whole body follows, looking much like a dog drying itself. Then she points a finger Carna's way. "And! I a a FOX. Not a cat! ... Will forgive you though. Probably don't have many animals down here! Haven't seen any yet..." But she also hasn't been looking. Wouldn't expect more than vermin though..

    Maybe Raitons or other scavengers. Creatures of death. They always seem to thrive around places like this.

    Within a few seconds she's down on all fours again and wearing her fox shape. The transformation is so smooth and fast that she's simply off just like that to scout!