2833/He Who Departed to Link the Flames - Part 1

He Who Departed to Link the Flames - Part 1
Date of Scene:	17 August 2015
Location:	Great Painting of Ariamis <PoA>
Synopsis:	The way to the Kiln of the First Flame opens. Expectations fall wide.
Cast of Characters:	Tomoe, Staren, Priscilla, 168, 183, 248, 253, 560, Eryl Fairfax, 570, Ayako Hasekawa, Lezard Valeth, Reiji Arisu

---

Priscilla has posed:
    The summoning takes place where only Oscar has been. Even those distantly familiar with it have seen it but in flashes glimpsed through a dragon's lens in time. There is little to describe, as the surroundings are so bare of definition that it feels deliberate; endless, mute blackness stretching off far in every direction to highlight the sole importance of what stands ahead. It is nothing like the dark of Anor Londo's unveiled skies, nor of the Tomb of the Giants, or even the capital Dark of the Abyss. It feels as if the dimmed extremities of a stage, bereft of presence simply to draw focus inward, towards a single platform, the infamous Lordvessel seated upon it, and the door that lies beyond.

    The massive, engraved chalice is nestled in a web of roots as if it had flowered from the Archtree it stands upon, casting flickering illumination over the worn, ancient flag stones from the low fires that gutter in its bowl, gleaming on the unpolished gold. It barely reaches the foot of the gateway beyond, barred shut by double doors of granite that tower storeys above, at first simply seeming rough-hewn and worn, but upon closer inspection, reveal themselves to be covered across every millimeter with tiny, fractally tesselating patterns, orderly and somehow primordial in their simplicity.

    The air is hushed and the light low as Oscar kneels by the vessel, waiting for the last pilgrims to arrive, contemplatively watching the fires. By his side stands Solaire, watching onward thoughtfully, though his purpose here is less obvious. Priscilla's white is flushed bloody gold in the ambient atmosphere, standing out more than her silence should allow.

Staren has posed:
    "Woah. That's weird. Where /is/ this, the literal edge of existance?" Staren wonders after he appears. "Um... Hey Priscilla, Oscar. Long time no see..." Staren waves to them, and then approaches. "What's, uh... what's the plan?"

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber's here as a blue spirit. He also, despite being a spirit, looks ungodly tired. It's about akin to someone coming off a triple-shift. That's because before he was here today, he spent his entire weekend stopping Therion and moving outside the universe for the fourth or fifth time. It's pretty exhausting.

    Despite this, he's here and with a ghostly can of Red Bull in his hands and a yawn, "Greetings, Priscilla. I'm here to help with the conclusion of your world." He's defaulting to a more formal stance, just because of stress levels and prolonged work.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Kimiko's arrival is per her standard, falling naturally into habits no matter the duration of the intervening period. She stands softly, more quietly than the weight of her armor should allow for. In the form of a golden phantom, just her head and hair are uncovered. It makes the plain expression obvious, though the time she spends slowly turning from the lack of landscape to the companions here does come from her own interest in her surroundings.

    As for words, she has few. "Priscilla. Sir Oscar. Hello." Has she fought with the sunlight knight? Less certain.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe is here again as The Iron Lily none the worse for wear after her last match of the WMAT, she looks out at what is before her. She feels more and more tiny and out of place but she's going to see thing through to the end. She notices the visual change with Priscilla as well. She waits for the moment and ponders just what she is seeing here.

"Priscilla, Sir Oscar."

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
    It has been a while since he's done this. Eryl rises up from his sign, still a white phantom. He blinks blearily, having gone from bright sun to dim gloom from his perspective, implants making his pupils expand quickly to adjust. Thankfully, Original Face is pretty used to this by now, so no headaches.

    He peers around the desolate place, taking in everything there is to see. Which is to say, very little. He smiles and bows his head to the trio of natives. "Miss Priscilla, Sir Solaire, Sir Oscar. It has been a while, and I apologize of being of little use recently. However, I am here to help today."

     Softly, he lets out a little whistle, trying to get a handle on how vast this place is by listening for any echo. Looking around, he smiles as Psyber rises up in all his blueness. "Psyber, you're still alive. Great to see you. I would hate if all the football trivia I looked up went to waste."

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    Reiji appears, today as a phantom rather than in his corporeal form. The intention today is to investigate, after all. When the time comes, he will be here in his full strength, but for now...

    A second blue spirit rises from the ash. Out of reflex, Reiji takes a breath- but takes in no air. Spirits hardly need to breathe, after all. But he is certainly well armed. The portable arsenal clatters in his hand. Gold and Kuroshio are strapped to his back in various places. He's ready for... just about anything.

    "Priscilla. Oscar. I come to see this to the end." Reiji inclines his head to the half-dragon and the knight. He glances, worriedly, towards Psyber. "...Not necessarily to conclude the world. Psyber, you alright?"

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Lezard enjoys the additional layer of protection inherent to the phantom summong pricess. A crimson spirit, the Necromancer of Midgard steps into the area, looking over the simply environment contemplatively. "... This is a secret place. Can you feel it in the air?" He smiles to himself for a moment, allowing the Manus Catalyst to rest upon the stones next to him as he bows. "Lady Priscilla, Lord Oscar. I am prepared to render my assistance as per the plan we have conceived."

He looks to the others, his eyes narrowing faintly as he measures them silently, and then nods. "It will take great power to see this to its end. Perhaps even more than I can conveniently access. We will have to be cautious in our proceedings from here."

Staren has posed:
    "The 'conclusion' of the world, huh? I've never heard /that/ phrasing before, but I guess it fits..." Staren replies. "Hi, Psyber." The others get greetings too as they arrive. Except Lezard.

Ayako Hasekawa has posed:
    Ayako has been summoned here as a black spirit. The Water Spirit, dressed up as a witch of sorts, floats in the air, seated side-saddle on her ornate broomstick. The inky black aura that surrounds her conflicts strongly with her cheerful dispostion, but she doesn't seem to mind. "Hello Priscilla!" She smiles happily and floats about to greet everyone else that arrives.

    As she does so, she Water Bubbles everyone. Just in case. Because it's Lordran. That place where everything's trying to kill you. Even when you think it's safe. No-especially when you think it's safe! After she's done her happy lap, she floats next to Psyber's side and floats just off to the side of him.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    It is something of a custom for Mizuki to wear a pitch, hooded veil that obscures her features whenever she comes here; some ritual she observes for the sake of austerity that might be owed to a funeral procession or a cemetery pilgrimage. Ever has it allowed her to blend in more easily with the vine-clad walls and the chartreuse pavement of Lordran's ruins, and never has this been more effectual, more fitting, than it is here today.

    The sanctum of the first flame is a holy place, and the lordvessel a holy artifact besides. As such, the miniature impression which Faruja's soul has left upon Mizuki's mind would never let her hear the end of it were she to profess herself too much, either in word, in apparel, or in deed, in the face of such things. Moreover, 'tis far easier to be a record keeper when one is not so absorbed in the nuance of their own existence. This may seem a trifle extensive for the things a single garment should be capable of representing, but nevertheless, it encapsulates all of it for her: it is her oath, her duty to this realm. It is the single thing which above all else reminds her of her commitment to preserve what this world's perilous cycles might mean to destroy.

    As another facet of that custom, Mizuki appears without any flair whatsoever. Unfortunately, that flair, that especial effort toward being noticed is oft necessary for her to be noticed at all, meaning that she would seem only to 'appear' beside the crossbreed after a time. Her hood is still drawn and is meant to remain so until such a time when it would be impractical to limit her vision, so the only identifying feature which survives her self-imposed barding of mystique would be the faint crimson glow of her eyes. Yet even that, even that so distinguishing of features is entirely lost on those who find themselves positioned behind her. So she may very much appear a ghost for those few, as though she herself were a ghost belonging to these hallowed halls.

    "Let us bear the torch, then," Is all that she is able to quietly mutter before any more substantial announcement of their purpose here, and their task. "If it is to extinguish itself some time in the future, fine -- one might say this world only epitomizes the transitory rather than being its only exemplar. Yes, we can only see its brevity because it fits within our limited aperture, so of course we would seek to preserve it. So pray I will for the success of your and Psyber's method, that its time might be expanded... even if only slightly beyond its current parameters." Then, a renewed silence.

    Her head inclines toward the floor, her back at an incline. Her hands wait themselves upon the pommel of her sword.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    As usual, GOLD PHANTOM EMIYA SHIROU is ready for action the moment he appears. There's a solemn determination in his fierce amber eyes, only hints of the friendly and gentle man in action today. He's dressed for combat, with flexible advanced polymer armor worn over ordinary clothing courtesy of the Union armory to keep his vitals safe. He's still getting USED to the plate mail Santa gave him, fine as it is and as much as it would make sense for here... he just hasn't gotten down plate armor that well yet.

    He relies too much on mobility.

    "It'll be nice to have this problem finally solved. Let's hope all the effort we've gone for this crazy idea works out." He's still not sure he likes it. But it's far better than the alternatives.

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    Nathan is, as always, a white phantom. "The First Flame's what differentiated light from dark. What differentiated reality into things we can see, things we can touch and feel in the way we do." He says, aside, to Staren, as he rises from the ether. "We're not at the edge, not exactly the edge of existence. I understand you could call it something like the eye of the storm, the eye of the hurricane. A place where I expect things will get a little different, just being close to the epicenter of reality."

    Psyber is the one he immediately moves to the side of, handling exhausting things. "The conclusion of our project here, in any case. Once the soul mechanism is established, there will still be conflict. Always will still be conflict, but the core of the issue will be settled. The world itself will continue to turn." There's a respectful nod, now, of course. To Oscar, Priscilla, and to Solaire. To the last one, "Thank you for assisting us further." That's all he has to say about that. Eryl is regarded with a dry tone. "I'm sure someone would have needed to dispense the sports-related knowledge that Psyber does." He says, his voice utterly lacking the humor he intends. "Thankfully, the niche remains filled." Reiji is answered quickly and without much ambiguity. "Psyber had a major conclusion to another project elsewhere. It got risky, violent, and exhausting. Very exhausting, the way I hear it, the way it sounds."

    Then he's heading for the gate, waiting for it to open.

Psyber (253) has posed:
"I'm fine," Psyber says to Reiji, stretching a bit, "Just tired. I had a big deployment rap up barely 22 hours ago, and I'm back out. I'll be fine," He notes to the exorcist, giving him a thumbs up. He's pretty sure Reiji will understand, as a Shinra operative. Sometimes you just pull long shifts because you're needed everywhere at once.

    "Oh you have trivia now, huh?" Psyber asks to Eryl with a laugh, "Why don't you tell me who the first person in the NFL to rush for over a thousand yards was, eh?"

Fassad (248) has posed:
     In the old legends told on many worlds, there is always a weight to the missions. An importance. Even if the hero themself does not realize the scale of the undertaking, the pressure upon them is palpatable throughout the entire tale. It's very rare for such a thing to be experienced fully. While the situation is dire and important, there is a certain weight to it.

     Every single person here will go down in Legend upon this world.

     Which is why Fassad is here, appearing as a Gold Phantom. He stands tall, glorious. And, without even really thinking on it, he's trying to emit his own natural Light magic as well, trying to make himself appear a /bit/ more glorious as he joins the group. Looking around. Smiling.

     He remains oddly quiet for now. Partially because he, as usual, has been preoccupied with other grand adventures. So he is listening to the exposition from Psyber, Nathan, and the others, putting the pieces together.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
    Eryl looks about as everyone manifests, crossing his arms. Psyber and Nathan are exhausted, moreso than usual. But everyone else seems raring to go, in their own ways. He smiles to Psyber and says, "Beattie Feathers of the Chicago Bears. To be precise, he ran 1004 yards." He taps his skull with an index finger. "Computers in here, remember? Trivia retention is no problem for me."

    Looking over to Nathan, he laughs despite experiencing the worst telling of a joke that there has ever been. He can tell what Nathan was going for, and the poor general did not seem to be in the mood to be teased about it. "Well, if I was to be the sports trivia person, I would rather it be about a sport I have actually played, you know?" The number of sports that entails could be counted on one hand, with a few missing digits.

    Looking about, he nods and pounds his right fist into his left palm. "Everyone else has said it, in varying tones. From eloquent," He glances at Mizuki here. "To enthused," A glance at Shirou. "To cautious." Now, a glance at Lezard. "We all agree, let us be done with this."

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe is here as her Avatar as ever and she doesn't seem bothered by things so far. She looks over to Psyber for a moment hoping it is all right and then as she's about to say something Lezard speaks up. She pauses lookat him for a moment.

"That's what I'm honestly concerned about."

She looks as Mizuki arrives and gives the woman of thought a nod. While she's making ready to tak point as is her job here, right?

"Right lets get this over with."

Priscilla has posed:
    "It has been a little long, yes." is the first thing out of Priscilla's mouth, noncommital and indistinct, as if she might think it still hasn't been long enough. Oscar however, seems to be of the opposite mind. "And yet, regardless, we are finally here." is what he says, with a little relief mixed in amongst the overwhelming apprehension. The two of them greet each newcoming summon in turn, but both seem worn and reticent. After all, they've spent nearly equal time along the same path by now, though they bear quite different responsibilities. It's anyone's guess what the two have to talk about with the cohort gone.

    Oscar appears glad to see every one of them, especially for the more senior members, but hints of Priscilla's personal relation can be seen in her eyes and her body language; the way Psyber draws a worried glance; the way Mizuki makes her stand up a little straighter; the way Ayako draws a flicker of a smile; the way her tail twitches in Lezard's presence; the way Shirou causes her to speak a little louder and Nathan a little more confidently; the way Eryl eases her tension, Reiji lightens her posture and Kimiko subtly draws her wayward moments of attention; the way Staren and Fassad put her a little on guard and the way Tomoe seems somehow reassuring. Solaire however, half-forgotten in the shadows, is unreadable. "At this point, good sir Hall, it was inevitable. After all, I've run out of places to come back from now haven't I? Ahead is only a way forward. It'd make sense for our paths to full converge at this point, wouldn't it?"

    As the last Elites filter in, Priscilla inclines her head towards Oscar, and the knight of Astora nods back, taking a deep breath and extending his hand out over the rim of the Lordvessel. From his palm falls the brilliant, pulsing gold corona of a Lordsoul shard, followed by another, another and another, drifting like flakes of snow for all their incredible power. As each joins the primordial vessel, the flames rise higher and higher, until a towering bonfire casts its scalding heat over every centimeter of stone, banishing the uncertainty of shadow and painting stark amber across the rocks. As if answering a challenge, the light that comes next surpasses it tenfold; silently -- almost gently -- issuing forth in a brilliant white halo spilling forth from the crack of the doors as they steadily grind open for the first time in over a thousand years, and the second time in the history of the world.

    What lies further beyond is obscured by the blinding white void, save for a set of plain, stone stairs suspended in the middle of it. It certainly doesn't feel as if some great seal has been lifted, but rather, that something has been brought closer.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    "It does seem like it's been a while, hasn't it?" Reiji obseves, taking a moment to double-check that his weapons are ready and loaded. "Whatever may come next, we can't exactly afford to turn back now." Gold's slide snaps shut with a final clamor of metal striking metal. "We've invested too much. My end of the ritual is ready, when we need to set things into motion."

    Psyber gets a sympathetic, but knowing look, then. "I hear you," Reiji says with some small amount of humor. "They had me pushing papers all last week though, so I'm itching for some actual field work."

Soon, though, all manner of speak becomes meaningless. Oscar lights the penultimate bonfire- the Lordvessel.

The flame of the gods burns once more. Perhaps, for the last time. Reiji doesn't turn his eyes from it- though he does need to shield them, and so he peers out through the cracks between his fingers. A wave of heat slams into him, and it carries... Something ELSE with it. Something older.

Far, far older.

"...This is..." His brows furrow as the gate swings open. "A spatial warp?"

Well. There are stairs there.

    Only one way from here.

    Reiji nods to the others and begins making his way forward. Chirai falls easily into his waiting hand. He has a feeling he'll need it.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Priscilla, chief among many he knows, inspires Psyber to put on the collected and gathered image he looks to put out. He stands up a bit more, stretches, and then covers up his tiredness by smiling at her. There's a limited number of people that Psyber will show any prolonged distress around them, and because of how she idolizes him, he doesn't want to distress HER with his own tired nature.

    He nods to Reiji, reaching under his jacket to pull out a pistol. He pulls the slide back a bit to make sure a round is chambered before letting it snap shut, "Well, if Lordran has taught me anything, this will either be a ton of talking or a ton of shooting and dying, so you've at least got 50-50 odds," He says to the exorcist, reaching out to give the man a slap on the shoulder.

    Psyber doesn't want to walk right into the void, but he does follow after Reiji, careful to put himself at point so he can protect some of the less combat-focused people here. Experimentally, he throws his empty can into the white void to see what happens.

Staren has posed:
    Staren gives Priscilla an odd look. Not sure what he heard in her voice. He checks their current mission over the radio, and then looks around as the world... 'comes closer'. "That's... weird. This whole place is weird. But I guess it would be." Staren sighs. "Don't see anything hidden in here yet..."

    He's a bit distracted. Someone's gotten him into a philosophical argument on the radio!

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    In that silent sepulcher of a room, there is suddenly life, sound for the first time in millenia. The patter of footsteps and the warmth emanating from the bodies of the group are but precursors, though, for that which follows: a blinding beam of light washes over them all as the doors force their shackles. Quite likely, the world quakes; the serpents watch with anticipation from whatever vigil they keep; any birds left in the heavens circle overhead. The romanticized conjurations of her mind would well suggest that even the hollows, devoid of life and reason as they have so devolved, stand aright for that one moment, look to one another if only for an instant in a fleeting realization of what once was, and what might be. The portrait of clouds breaking over the dreary streets of New Londo cut a dangerously emotive swath in her realm of attention, just before her future projection see the eternal twilight of Anor Londo resolve itself into a brilliant, yellow sun -- one so bright as to make one wince as this display had now.

    Her grip on the pommel of her sword tightens. How long has it been since she last participated in a moment of such finality? Time was, these were the only times when she deigned to show herself. Time was, she was an omen that appeared at times of great devastation, great progress, great change. Always she has been the sentinel of those things that loom if only because she was too much of a child to take especial interest in those leading events which truly substantiate the endings and new beginnings. Not so this time, though: this time, she has been here for every step, every moment, every revelation. She was here so many ages ago when they quelled Quelaag and saved her sister from a fate she scarce deserved, she was here when they met that merchant in the decrepit rafters of the royal center's foundation, and graces willing, she -will- be here to see this thing finished. She will be here to wrest control from a deity whose flame has long since fled and become ember, as she has done so many times before.

    No, this is nothing new to her, but that does little to diminish the impact of the moment. She sees the mix of emotions in Priscilla -- the stiffness of her shoulders, the differing expressions toward Psyber and Ayako. She sees emotions in the crossbreed now which she never could have before, whether because she herself has been so changed or because Mizuki has better learned to read her. That, she figures, is all these people need to galvanize them: ever has this endeavor been one to allow the child of two races some degree of catharsis, of solace she might not even known herself to desire. Though that may not be true of some, like Lezard, it is certainly true of Eryl, and Ayako, and herself. So she will draw her blade this time to see her friend realize that resolution. She will strike down Gwyn not only for a world which she has come to adore for reasons she can hardly put into words, but for a dear, dear friend. So that they can again share a quiet evening in the deepest fathoms of the painted world, Ariamis, in a time of its Spring at last.

    Once the doors have opened fully, Mizuki gingerly extends her palm. A single fleck of ash, like a snowflake in mourning, finds purchase there.

    No more words. She's ready.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Kimiko does take time to respond as she's greeted, shortly. Each phantom that arrives with or after her gets at least a look, but for her, her expressions are guarded carefuly, made all the more difficult for her face being a golden glow. There's surely some emotion dominant, shifting from one longtime companion to another, but to avoid expressing it is too natural. For Lezard to be here, in fact, ensures that she would not relax, even could they be certain there was no other watching them, and that this day would not quickly become yet another of this land's endless days of bloodshed.

    Madness, too. She remembers more than a bit of that. The group is large enough for her not to walk too close to any other, for care of not being in the way at a moment of action. Instances of past vulnerability come to mind. Nathan Hall, Mizuki--Priscilla, when facing Seath. Even Psyber, for all he might claim his state otherwise. Kimiko's chosen role is unchanged, and so she waits for just such another moment. The divided attention isn't so much difficult as it is one of the few modes in which she can operate without conscious thought. It's background concern, free of true worry, only to come into focus as the situation calls for it.

    The fire is warm, something seeming lessened not at all for only being half-here. Her footsteps are as solid, turning from the emptiness behind them and facing into the door. She attempts to shield her eyes, but it does little good. Her other hand is on the hilt of a sword that may have been there from the start. She edges forward, adjusts to the brilliance, and begins to walk.

Fassad (248) has posed:
     Fassad lifts his eyes to shield them fully, while the light is at its most intense. The path forward is now open. Fassad's mouth hangs open, slightly. He looks more like an awestruck peasant. But, once he regains himself, he reaches for his sword and shield. Both are pulled out, and he smiles, following along. And, in fact, he tries to hurry up a bit, so he can be at the front of the group.

     "Ah. Let us see what lies beyond!"

     And then he sees Psyber throwing the can.

     "--Sir Psyber, litering is not something that should be tolerated in a place as sacred as this!"

     He looks completely aghast.

Ayako Hasekawa has posed:
    Ayako glances around slowly, her amber eyes trying to see something other than the sheer black that surrounds them. Priscilla's flicker of a smile is noticed, and she returns the smile with one of her own! She curiously watches as the Lordsoul shards are placed into the Lordvessel-gold and shiny! But then tugs the rim of her witch hat down as the Lordvessel is lit. So bright!

    As the doors open, Ayako glances curiously past them. Black on one side, white on the other, huh? And... why stairs? Must be one of those figurative things! She stays on her broom-preferrably behind Psyber!

    And of course would pick up the littered can as she passes it. Maid habits die hard!

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    Nathan gives a quick nod to Priscilla. He doesn't really consciously understand Priscilla's positive response, but he does see it subconsciously. "An inevitability, hard-won. There's not much farther, not much farther to go at all. Your home will be safe again soon." He says, his exhausted monotone trying to muster a reassuring posture, before he steps towards the gate. The wave of heat from the bonfire as he approaches it prompts a quick flicking motion; the bracer at his left arm crackles with cold, and a chilling mist rushes over his body, before a light set of smooth, simplified plate armor formed from ice. He doesn't expect this to be hot, but he is wary of danger.

    He'll head into the strange void, and down those stairs, just behind Psyber, somewhere where Kimiko can cover him easily. "The nature of this place is unpredictable. This is the epicenter of the explosion and wildfire known as reality in this world. Expect a crater, expect the ash of what existence is." He says, in a monotone that grows somewhat more intense. "This is the last bastion of Gwyn. We've no knowledge, no real, true knowledge what his nature was, when he was hidden from all sight of his kingdom. Maybe we will find the work of a hero, or maybe we will find the work of a desperate man clinging to old ways. Be cautious, but respectful."

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Even as Lezard has made his mark on Lordran, so it had made its mark on him. Perhaps there is something darker and more terrible yet behind the smiling face, within those searching eyes.

As he watches the offering of the Lord Souls, Lezard's expression is almost unreadable, the reflection of the brilliant flames becoming a mighty power casting Lezard into stark illumination, a black and crimson stain amidst the brilliant glory revealed.

There is no uncertainty. Like an inexorable force, the Manus Catalyst strikes the first step as he ascends. Tap.

Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.

He says no more, simply walking forth in the knowledge and belief that this is about to come to an end, and his hand would aid in the end of one age and the beginning of a new one.

No matter what anyone else thinks.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
    Eryl looks away as Oscar starts adding the Lordsouls into the Lordvessel. He needs to be at his absolute best for whatever may lie ahead, and mystical nonsense like this is a good way to ruin that. So he's a little surprised when the flames leap higher, brightening the area and sending his shadow stretching out before him.

    Pupils contract once more as he turns to behold the magnificent flame, smiling as it warms the dreary landscape. In the new light, he can see better, and he glimpses how Priscilla's body language shifts as she regards everyone. A grin crosses his face when she relaxes a little. Clearly, in the Multiverse, he is still doing something right then.

    A quick mental check of his status is followed by, "Weapon systems loaded and primed. Environmental scanner reporting no errors. Not at the moment anyway. KOAN Core charge at a hale 89% capacity. Let us go!" Eryl looks beyond the gates and spies the stairs and the white abyss.

    Original Face really doesn't know what to make of it, and Eryl quickly draws his own conclusions. "It's fog, or dry ice..." he mutters to himself as he joins the group in their as<span class=" bg_g fg_n ++ ension.

    cg">PRECIPITATION LEVELS NOT CONCURRENT WITH THICK FOG</span>

    'Foooooooooooooooog,' he thinks to himself insistently.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    The Lordvessel blazes and the pathway appears. The pathway to Lord Gwyn, if he recalls correctly.

    The young magus inhales deeply, trying to curb his anxiety and focus his mind. "Trace on." His Circuits smoothly light up, circulating power. DOwn to his hands that power flows, taking the shape of his most favored twin swords Kanshou and Bakuya, emerging from a thin plume of magical particles that drift away and fade like dust.

    Down the stairs he goes.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe understand these things take time. For better or ill they had a plan which might just put the world into a stable cycle rather than the all or nothing paths that had been there initally. She now knows her job is to protect the others here and she's darn well going to do that as they press down thier chosen path.

Priscilla has posed:
    Predictably, the already ephemeral can vanishes into the great white yonder as if falling through a blanket of perfectly lit clouds, disappearing without so much as making a sound as it slips into the mists between realities in this place where time coils about itself. Priscilla can't help but smile thinly at Fassad's concern, being the thing least worthy of distress at the moment. "That which is brought with the phantom fades as they do upon the dream's end. Simply concentrate on following it not." She takes to the stairs on silent, bare-footed steps, unusually gravitating towards the front of the group, where Oscar clanks on ahead. Solaire slips in behind as the last person steps down. Does he intend to follow them in? The Curse never really seemed like his business. The minor curiosity is immediately offset by the larger one: the doors don't dramatically bang shut behind anyone.

    Walking down those simple stairs, made when, how and by whom still in question, is about as surreal as could be expected. Somehow the omnipresence of illumination without actual light feels more strangely isolating and vertigo inducing than the dark that often pervades this world, as the silhouette of the stairs occasionally erodes at the edges where tendrils of formless, massless white mist creep over it. About halfway down, the party is joined by others, though they are equally as insubstantial. Tall, humanoid figures march from void to void, truly visible only as they cross the stairs for those few seconds in their unknown journey, growing more numerous with time, until the staircase is practically swarming with them, marching as a great, eerily silent procession, but presenting no impediment; passing without any indication of notice or awareness. No matter what senses are brought to bear on them, one can only ascertain that they are very, very old, and that each one of them is unique.

    The end of the stairs appears rather abruptly for the disorientingly timeless journey, suddenly finding feet stepping on more substantial ground as the lighting suddenly shifts around them. Without much warning or notice, the party finds itself near the apex of what could be considered a mountain; one of many in a trackless expanse that stretches on for as far as the eye can perceive on a perfectly level, infinite horizon. There is sky above despite the entrance being buried underground, but it casts only ruddy, dirty gold light on the shadowed valley below, so choked is it with smoke and cinders for all its incredible vastness. What initially appears to be white sand immediately reveals itself as pure, fine ash as people sink almost ankle deep into it, puffing up in ghastly plumes where they tread, and lying in deep drifts where it has pooled up against the jagged rocks.

    The only feature more important than the fact that the kiln appears to be a country all to itself, is the sole structure that dominates the skyline; a spiral tower of biblical proportions that rises far above the mountaintops in concentric tiers, tapering off to an obviously unfinished lattice. It is surrounded by miles and miles of arches, columns and bridges that form a vast, city-sized web around it, much of which appears to be broken. In fact, the entire thing is badly damaged, though clearly not from age. Stone and metal has heated and warped to such a degree that it has turned a variety of iridescent hues; flash melting with such force and suddenness that horizontal stalagtites of fused slag spray out from the rear facing side of every structure, radiating outwards from the central tower. Flickers of motion can be seen in the distance, though they blend in too well with the scenery to entirely pick out. The air is stagnant, heavy, and unbearably hot, and yet perfectly fine to breathe.

Ayako Hasekawa has posed:
    The can will vanish once Psyber's phantom departs? Well, that's a relief! She didn't want to go digging through the gap between realities looking for a littered can. But still. Maid habits die hard, and Ayako does take a glance about to look for the can just in case she can pick it back up.

    She stays on her broom as the group goes down the stairs, the broom floating a few feet above the steps. When they're joined down the stairs by these humanoid figures, Ayako pauses for a moment to give each of them a look before continuing on.

    At the bottom of the stairs, Ayako curiously looks at the white ash, pokes a finger into it and then stays on her broom above it. Or at least for a while. Once the air's heat hits her she whimpers softly and starts to slow down. "Uuu... it's hot..."

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    The figures meet Kimiko's guard, and pass without incident. Now her attention is distracted, uncertain whether this will prove dangerous, but unwilling to press the issue in any respect. She makes no move against the unlike spirits, but continues down.

    Ashes. "All that is left, is what cannot burn." That which cannot feed the fire. Burnt out? But it shouldn't be, not entirely--not yet. Wouldn't that mean the end? Uncertainty. Unease.

    Slag, in the horizontal. "Fiercely burned, quickly cooled." A blast would need have heralded it. This is, as said, the site of an explosion. Perhaps many. The 'cooling' is from the perspective of steel--she sweats as much as any in this environment, though it causes only trace irritation to her, and does not affect her constant step. If it's to march in armor, it's not so much that she's used to it, but that she gives such an impression.

Staren has posed:
    Staren likens it to a videogame level -- the internal /need/ for a 'light source' isn't necessarily there. What's displayed is what's displayed. It's still weird though. When they come upon the other figures, he stops. "Woah, who are /they/?" After his allies assert that they are possible people, the maybes of alternate timelines, the might-have-beens, the never-born, that... really doesn't clear things up. How does that even /work/? But, they must move onward. "So, are those other mountaintops other possible realities, or is that taking it too far?" Oh hey, sinking in ash. Yeah, Staren's not doing that. He activates his energy wings and flies over. He looks at the tower. "Sooo... I'm guessing this is really all sort of... conceptual? Like, we're outside reality and it just sort of... appears in a form we can interact with? So, what do all those towers and bridges represent? Are they the web of causality? It doesn't look to be in good shape..."

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber keeps one hand in the pocket of his jacket and the other resting on the butt of his gun in its holster as he walks down the stairs and begins to look around carefully. He does give Fassad a somewhat indifferent shrug, "Eeeeeh, Lordran's been pretty much a wall to wall hassle for me. Think of the can as a heroic metaphor, me striking back against the systematic assholery that permeates this entire world. Or, if that doesn't work, weigh the evil of littering against the whole 'redesigning the structure of life and death'. It works both ways," Psyber notes as he stretches.

    Eventually, though, the bottom of the stares is reached. Psyber steps off and draws his gun, wanting to have that at the ready as they proceed. He can spot the movements in the corner of his eyes, and he's trying to focus amidst the strange landscape and the stifling air. Psyber takes a few cautious steps and then flicks the safety off on his weapon.

    And then, mostly out of not wanting to stick around too long, he just takes off at a brisk walk, wanting to maintain point as he tries to find the path forward and then pretty much just head down it without too much commentary on their location. Other people are making side-comments, but Psyber is either too tired or too worn out to have much to say.

    "We should clear out what's left here so that the trip back is safer. We don't want complications when we haul in the Dark Soul."

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    It's almost funny how similar extremes of all things end up being. The first thing that comes to mind when Mizuki lays eyes upon those ebony crevices and ashen plains is snow. Winter. Quite a different phenomenon is the creation of snow from whatever events must have wrought this landscape, but nevertheless, the comparison is impossible to ignore. Still, she appreciates this place similarly: it is a bastion of reticence where some select souls have come to wait out the final days of their as-of-yet interminable lives. These shadow beings, Mizuki surmises, were the knights sent to accompany Gwyn when he made his sojourn to this place. No, there may perhaps not be enough concrete evidence to avail her of this detail, but her intuition must count for something -- she really is all too familiar with the idea of sacrificing oneself to perpetuate what one believes to be the one, true course for one's world, and the auras that swirl about those phantoms are more than enough 'proof' for her.

    Yes, which makes them -- and this barren hive in which they reside -- the final test. Best to be wary in case one of them comes lunging for, so much as she may revere them for their sacrifice and dedication, she cannot wager their minds are so far above their other hollow counterparts. This is one of the few times when she won't take qualms with 'getting blood on her hands', as it were, because in this case it is hardly a gruesome affair. More, it's a mercy, an end to things, what these men must have been anticipating all along. She would give them freedom of themselves after such a long, long pledge of servitude. These men have earned their rest, and if they had the time for it, Mizuki would certainly take pains to tuck each of them into the blanket of char that so suffuses the atmosphere.

    Alas, they do not have the luxury of such time. Far better that they hasten themselves toward -- toward that. Looking at the Kiln properly, Mizuki can't help but see a striking resemblance to Sophia's original domain, and to the Tower of Babel upon which it was based. What a fitting thing, really, for a place that was once the wellspring of warmth in an otherwise frigid realm, and that has now fallen to become the place where the curses it once staved off are most concentrated. The corners of her mouth turn downwards, if only faintly. She can imagine what Gwyn must feel, or rather, have felt when he still had the mind to do so. She knows all too well what it is to see one's world, one's heaven, one's crowning achievement become so... so utterly...

    ... ruined.

    Her eyes pinch closed a moment or two at that. The feelings that pervade this place have begun to take their toll on her already. To alleviate herself of them, she mutters again to Priscilla, "Let us free him, Priscilla. Gwyn and his knights have toiled long enough. It is time they be lain to rest."

    Nothing the others hadn't thought themselves, and the way she frames it will change nothing. Still, it is of comfort to her, and so she will persist in seeing this as... a peaceful dying. Anything to avert her eyes from the caustic, gnawing corpse this place is in reality.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    Reiji walks ahead. Aeons march past him. He shudders as he moves down that stairway. Time, space- he can feel it all sliding past him. It is a bizarre feeling, being in this place. The spirits surrounding him-- are they really, truly spirits? Or has 'here and now' lost their meaning? Is he actually going anywhere? When all this is over, will shades of Reiji Arisu, and Psyber, and Priscilla, and Nathan Hall and all these others, linger in this place, walking crosswise to the procession of ghosts?

Or have they always been here? Here, in this place with neither light nor dark, nor space nor time, nor here nor there.

It's maddening to consider, and so Reiji does not. He keeps his eyes ahead and his mind on task.

    Soon, the dream comes to an end. The fog fades away, replaced by something that's somehow even more bleak. At least the ash is SOMETHING though. It's a real, tangible THING. It is definitely, absolutely ash. There are things built here, signs that the place actually exists SOMEWHERE in space and time. He's not entirely sure where, though.

Ash sinks into his spirit-boots. Reiji's stood still for too long, it's time to move.

    "Agreed," he nods to Psyber as he keeps moving on ahead. "We need to find the kiln's heart, remove all other outside influences, and then... Restart the world, I guess." There's a beat where he spends a few moments just trudging through ash. "Sounds so easy," he breathes a long sigh, "Saying it like that."

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe is on edge, she's dealing with forces way beyond her, she's a fire ant dancing about the feet of far things larger than she. She heads down teh stairs and wonders about why they are there in the back of her mind. She's also making sure she's got her FRAPs on if anything goes to hell they might be able to make some sense of it later. ALso recoridng a place like this? No one would belive her that wasn't here right?

She looks at the terrain even as she goes on, and then she sees it something's moving.

"Something's moving"

She also moves to fall in to make sure she's near Nathan as normal in these situations.

Fassad (248) has posed:
     There is a sigh of relief from Fassad as the litering is not apparently a permenant problem. But, then Psyber speaks. Fassad is quiet in his response, but firm, "It is not something that should be considered a hassle. While I can understand frustration, anything done for the greater good is not something one should complain about. We should simply keep moving forward, for the sake of helping, not stressing the minor details of the journey. The end is in sight, is it not?"

     The kiln itself, though... Fassad actually has a look of distaste for it. It reminds him far too much of ancient legends of great evils, who scorched the lands before them. But, he shakes his head a bit, turning back to a smile again. Positive!

     "Ah. This place reminds me of Death Mountain, only more... ashen. How wonderful. A pleasure to be in such a place!"

     He can't lecture Psyber on being pessimistic and then not be optimisitc.

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    Nathan's descent is a soft shuffle, respectful and rather quiet. It's when he gets to the mountaintop that he speaks up, responding to Ayako's and Kimiko's first. "This is where reality exploded, where the fire that makes up the rest of the world begins. The wildfire still smoulders outside, but at the epicenter of the blast, where everything that could burn did burn for an instant, all you have is..." He gestures to Kimiko. "What doesn't burn."

    Staren gets that weary monotone. "You saw what the world was like when we entered the Abyss. You saw what things were like. What things turned out to be. Form has meaning, form has a certain... Meaning to what it represents, a certain definition to what it conveys to the world. The vocabulary of reality still applies, even when the dialect changes, even when the accent is a little bit different."

    He looks on to the tower. "Only one way to go. Only one place to meaningfully go, it looks like. Looks like we head down, and then we head up. The valley's a passage, a very convenient passage. Let's take it." His foot sinks into the ash in a controlled, deliberate way; he begins the march on towards the tower. He moves mostly behind Psyber, trudging and hiking his way through the ash. He's thankful for the chilling effect of his ice armor. "He's waited long enough, you're right. Very right. Let's not keep him, or whatever's left of him, waiting any longer."

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
    Eryl is not terribly bothered by the long long loooooooong descent. Wandering in a general direction for long stretches has been his job description for over a century, after all. If anything, this is far more interesting, since he has other people with him.

    He busies himself by trying to sync his footsteps with his companions, attempting to harmonize his footsteps with others, or trying to provide a counterpoint to theirs. But when the phantoms from other timelines start appearing, he spends his time squeezing his eyes shut instead, using the footsteps to stay on track.

    When his foot finds the ash, it immediately sinks deep. Mechanical limbs are heavy, after all. Silently, he removes his necktie and ties it around his mouth, creating a makeshift filter from the cinders and soot. Walking over to one of the arches, he gently runs a hand down the rippling patterns made by liquid stone that later cooled.

    "The heat must have been incredible..." he mutters. Well, the heat is still incredible. His brow is beading with sweat, but he does not take action to wipe it away. That would defeat the whole purpose of sweating, after all. "Take heart, Miss Ayako. When this is over, cold drinks for everyone on me!" he says in his most motivational tone of voice. In the face of such desolation, spirits can falter, and we can't have that.

    Making his way towards the klin is a little rough on him, having to wade through the ash, his feet sinking deep every time. They're flooding into his shoes, which will no doubt have to be replaced. But he presses on, his face the definition of 'driven.'

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.

Lezard proceeds down the stairs, the ephemeral knights marching past, around, and through them drawing no special notice from Lezard. He knows well what he is walking into, and the strange and wonderful alteration that play upon the senses as one draws near.

Tap.
Tap.
Tap.

As he proceeds, however, he seems to anicipate what is to come even more, clearly holding himself back from simply diving forward to immediately plunder the secrets that lie at the core of Lordran.

Tap.
Tap.
Thud.

And then there is a dull noise as the Catalyst strikes not steps, but fine ash. Lezard looks up through the wonder and horror of the Kiln of the First Flame, the ashen lands before him sprawling in its barren vista. He smiles.

"You are overthinking this, Staren. It is exactly what it appears to be." With that, Lezard steps forward, approaching the grand structure with an intent gaze.

Ayako Hasekawa has posed:
    Ayako keeps floating along, but... after a while it becomes obvious that she's slowing down quite a bit. "Uuu... someone tug me or carry me along..." She slumps slightly on her broomstick. "It's hot..."

    It takes Ayako a moment, but she wafts over to Psyber and drops what looks like a braided blue felt cord that dangles in the air by him. It's not exactly clear what or where that cord is attached to her, but it seems this is what she meant by someone 'tugging' or 'carrying' her along.

    On a more pleasant note, the air around Ayako is cooler and much less stagnant-no doubt her own attempt to keep the heat away from her.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    It's really REALLY weird to be marching through insubstnatial humanoid people. Like the worst crowded day ever except nothing's touching you! Shirou shivers through some of it. What in the world are they traveling through?

    Trudging through ash and struggling into the amazingly hot kiln itself...

    He's sweating up a storm. Maybe a small brook.

    "Staren, you're usually overthinking things!" The boy finds himself agreeing with Lezard, which immediately gets a frown. But at least his tone's pretty friendly with the banter.
R    He faces the monumental structure laid out before them, just... GAPING.

Priscilla has posed:
    Priscilla tries to look reassuring in Ayako's direction, but even she seems a little caught off guard. When told all the stories of the Kiln, the site itself had never been detailed. Her imagination had conjured all sorts of images as a child, but looking back upon them now, though they are perhaps brighter, what strikes her is just how ordinary they all seem in comparison to the real thing. "For all that it signifies in this world, Flame is still flame." she says both in reply to the water spirit, and the younger pseudo-knight. The subject of being more literal applies to Staren as well, as Solaire replies.

    "To some part, but I can say very well that that what you see built by living hands is there all on its own. The Great Lord Gwyn had this great fortress, or what was meant to be one, built around the frame of the Kiln once the Lords recognized the dimming of the First Flame, however it seems he was forced to re-link it before it could be completed." Cryptically, Priscilla doesn't ask him how he knows. "I supposeth, even if its resurgence were temporary, it didst most certainly possess enough remaining life to reject the work of a mere god." Oscar mumbles out loud. "It's all but more of the landscape now. The ash and metal bones left over from the birth of a world."

    Though a handful of others are quicker to spot it, Mizuki drags up the right piece of old lore from her journeys in her surmising. As Psyber ploughs forward at the head of the group, the figure that eventually resolves in the distance, albeit directly in their way, could most certainly be recognized as a knight of some description. Somehow even taller than even the half-angel by a couple of heads, and commeasurately imposing, it is clad head to toe in thick, heavy, and exquisitely detailed armour unlike anything worn by humans, the most striking feature of which is the solid, imposing horns sweeping up from its helmet in homage of an old enemy. Said armour appears to have been harshly burnt away, so that the outer skin of the metal has been charred black, leaving the golden weave of titanite within standing out against its surface; a much denser concentration than anything forged by mortal smiths. It has a matching shield thicker than a plate of tank armour and a sword the size of an entire person, and yet it doesn't seem especially . . . vigilant. In fact, it doesn't even seem to be breathing, merely staring off into the distance with the vague sense that it is meant to be there. No face can be glimpsed in the heavy shadow of its eyeslits.

    Of course, this places context on the distant movement. The reason it's so hard to pin down is that the variegated, fire-streaked armour of the knights blends in too easily with the melted, ancient godmetal it was forged out of after being recovered from this very place. If one keeps this in mind there appear to be an alarming number spread out across the horizon. In fact, every broken ledge, perilous bridge, tiered buttress and mountain passage seems to be host to several of them, as if deliberately stationed to watch and cover all possible approaches.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    The knights have Kimiko's attention as soon as she knows to look for them. First, considering their positions. Defensive. Very good. Thorough. Their equipment--similar to the land, in multiple respects. Strong? It must be. At some point, nothing should have been able to survive this place. But is that really true? They may have weathered heat unimaginable. Their armor shows the patterns, and has her attention next. She's still listening to the others, noting Nathan's explanations, Solaire's--but to look at her, it's solely on the guardians. The armor is unlike any she's seen, and she's seen a fair amount. What's more, she pays attention.

    Oscar is in front. Kimiko watches to see how they react to him. Next, to Priscilla. The latter thought has her more tense.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber reaches up and grabs the 'cord' that Ayako extends to him, easily pulling her along as he proceeds through the area, "I had never thought of you as a balloon, Ayako," He notes as he proceeds to walk forward with her.

    Once spotted, the knights give him pause. He takes several moments to appraise the situation and then holsters his handgun. Usually he prefers the smaller 9 mm, for its stopping power. These guys, though, were ridiculously armored and he knew the smaller bullet couldn't get the penetration he wanted. So he reaches to a second holster and instead pulls out a revolver. The Smith and Wesson 460, loaded with .460 Magnum rounds.

    Psyber thumbs back the hammer on the huge revolver and readies himself in case the knight becomes hostile.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
Ahead. Knights.

    Reiji whispers a small prayer into the oppressive heat of this dead and hollowed-out husk of a kiln. Chirai is replaced into its sheath- it won't be able to do much to these things, he feels. Instead, he draws...

    Well. There is no sound when he draws. Darkdrift slides out of its sheath without anything more than a whisper. Reiji's eyes flicker towards Psyber, then Nathan. "I'll follow your lead. We'll try words first."

Fassad (248) has posed:
     A vast, countless armies of what appear to be knights lay before the group. But. These are /knights/. Knights are supposed to stand down before royal presence. And so, Fassad tries to move to the front of the group, smiling at the first of the knights. He sheaths his sword, though his shield is kept in his left arm. He flicks back his hair, looking across the landscape, smiling. Always smiling.

     "GREETINGS, fair sirs! We have come here to meet Sir Gwyn! Allow me to introduce myself. I am Prince Fassad, from the far off land of Arcadia! I am a noble hero who seeks to help Sir Gwyn. I escort Sir Oscar with me as well, helping him find Gwyn upon Gwyn's own desire. The rest are simply my entourage! Please, allow us all to pass. You will be added to the story of our legendary journey, most certainly!"

     Fassad makes a lot of sweeping emotive arm movements as he speaks, and bows to all of them on occasion. He then stands up, tall and straight. Mouth open in a smile, his teeth shining even aside the fact he is currently golden and glowing.

Lezard Valeth has posed:
The arrangement of near-camoflauged knights causes Lezard to actually slow down slightly. Despite his power, one cannot simply dive into a potential melee such as that without concern. He looks to the others, and nods, yielding in his formerly implacable gait to allow the others to test diplomacy and, well...

If nothing else, they will be the ones to be attacked first.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
    It's a hard slog through the cinders left by the First Flame. Whiffs of the air through his nose allows Eryl to detect little ash in it. He supposes that that would require a breeze to stir it up, something the stagnant place had little of. So, the tie comes off his face, but he doesn't put it back on. It goes into a pocket instead, too hot for such things. "There is nothing sadder than an incomplete structure," he says, more musing aloud than anything as he regards the incomplete tower on the horizon.

    But his eyes are eventually drawn down as the armoured figure comes into view. He narrows his eyes, taking in everything about it, looking for any evidence of breathing and the like. "Original Face detects no signs of life. But that matters little here," he mutters. Although, he does mentally note that the golden weave of titanite is a little similar to the ones on his limbs and weapons.

    Upon noting that, Original Face starts pinging several more of the same pattern, partially hidden by background objects. "I can see more of them. There, there, there..." Each word is punctuated by a steady point of his right index finger, tracing a little circle around the distant figures.

Staren has posed:
    Staren is... a little spooked when he realizes the knights are /everywhere/.

    He just really hopes they don't have to fight them all...

    Well, they're about to find out. Staren looks to the knight Fassad walks up to, warily.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    There stand the vanguard. Mizuki draws back her hood at long last, picking her sword up from the ground and summoning a familiar shield tinged with cyan crystal into her right hand. This is done as quietly as possible so as not to needlessly provoke, but certainly such that it will give her ample time to prepare in the event of an attack. At a glance, one would not think her shield sturdy enough to survive a blow from a sword of that size, but upon another whimsy she supposes it might be one of the few things in the world capable of doing so. It is imbued with the power of a soul native to this land, after all, and its steel was likewise forged by native magics, and native hands. It has all the spiritual fullness that the hollows lack, which may indeed make it the most effectual bulwark imaginable against their ken. Still, she's not particularly inclined to chance it, so she summons her wings as well. They blend seamlessly with the cloak as they emerge.

    She stops only a second to stare into the helm of one of the knights. How long have they been here? How long have they kept this vigil, and how long has it been since they last remembered why they arrived here in the first place? Truly, she echoes for herself, dedication of that sort is more laudable than most anything else she conceive of: determination such that, even when the whole of one's body and soul has eroded away, the whispers and mantras of one's old tasks still drive their leftover reflexes. Their loyalty to Gwyn was such that it was ingrained not only into their hearts, but into the every movement of their bodies. Such fellowship is one of the things she feels most exemplifies the better qualities of humanity. Somehow, she is able to take solace in its presence here.

    But she does not study them for so long that she does not continue to move with the group. Separation in this case would be a death sentence. Different though these dark ones may be on account of their one-cherished resolve, they are still animals now. And animals react to sudden movements, to light, to moments of opportunity. She has no intention of giving them the latter or summoning any of the former.

    In a solitary moment where she is able to avert here eyes and turn them toward the ground, she muses on how, once, she had seen landscapes like this much more often. Ruins thick with ash and miasma where silence was unbreaking, unbending -- too often has she seen such things as the end to stories. Not this time, though. No... this time, the burnt out Kiln is but a Chrysalis. Not an end, not a beginning: a catalyst. A point of transformation. As it was in the past, as ever it will be in the future.

    She takes an idle, likely dangerous moment to peer down one of the long ravines. There's something nostalgic about the view, though she can't quite fathom what.

Ayako Hasekawa has posed:
    Ayako gets tugged along with Psyber. She relaxes visibly-it seems handling movement in this heat isn't so easy for her, and with that taken care of, she can function more normally now. "I... a balloon?" She blinks her eyes quickly and opens her mouth to say something but then slowly closes her mouth as she thinks and then glances down at herself and the situation. She sticks her tongue out playfully at Psyber. "I never thought of it that way, but I guess in this situation, I sort of am!"

    As she gets tugged along, she carefully eyes the unmoving armor. "Hmm... I don't think those are statues..." Ayako's amber eyes dart about at the knights. "I... they're placed a bit too well for guarding something. Here's hoping we can talk to them..." She gets ready to throw a barrier. Just in case.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    After all of the previous times SHirou has seen a random knight standing somewhere with a weapon at the ready, in a place that nobody's come for probably DECADES, they've been attacked rather ruthlessly. Lordran seems to like doing that to people.

    So he tenses rather understandably while heading over towards Ayako. He pulls out his canteen and offers it to her.

    "Maybe you should back out. You'll evaporate in this heat!" He sounds nothing but concerned for her, though he's watching Fassad's progress with greetings out of the corner of his eye. His weapons are still ready.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe is concerned for Ayako but there's nothing she can really do. She thinks about it, in the begining their was chaos and then there was light. Sh thinks about this more it seems to be a common trend on many worlds. She feels very tiny now as just what she's walking through sinks in. This is no digital part of a game this is real and she's the illusion when she thinks about it. She keeps an eye on the movment she's pretty sure there's something here yet she wonders could the remant metal here be forged into something?

The thought passes quickly now is not the time and it seems there are others arriving now she moves to keep between them and as she looks at them this may be one of the most serious fights she's been in up there with the Birth of Afterus.

She's not got her bladew drawn but she does not draw her blade, no not yet. These defenders are /skilled/ just their use of stealth tactics is impressive.

"I might have a flask in my inventory Ayako if it comes to it..."

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    "Oscar." Nathan says, making a quick tilting gesture with his head. "If you would, please. I need you to lead us on. You are the one, you know, you're the one who's here with endorsement. Here on an appointment, in fact, here with an appointment a long time coming." And then he's turning to another! "Priscilla. Please utilize your invisibility. To them I expect you're a... Threat, you know, a threat to the gods as I understand it. It's important that you not show your presence." He makes a plaintive gesture, showing that he doesn't exactly agree with that, but he's gotta work with what he's got.

    Hopefully, this means he'll have optimized the more Lordran-relevant individuals to be arranged in ways that will prevent grievous issues. "Valeth." Nathan rarely speaks to the man, after his betrayal at the Lord of Hatred, and he has few words for him here. "Remain out of range until you hide your equipment. Your staff has the look of the Abyss." And he goes right back to not speaking to Lezard. "The rest of you, do your best to hide any aspects of yourself that could represent a threat to Gwyn." He says, in a more businesslike monotone now. He's getting into fieldwork properly, so he's a little less exhausted and dazed with his tone. This intensifies when he approaches whichever knight Fassad reaches. Hopefully, if that knight doesn't attack yet, Nathan will have the chance to execute his own verbal efforts. "Knight of Gwyn, the Chosen has collected the Lordsouls and fragments. The Kiln is now open. Do you still follow the will and prophecy of Gwyn, as is your duty?"

    Untold years of standing guard in the blasting heat of the Kiln will have been hell on the mind. Let's see if simple references to extremely important psychological elements -- Gwyn, the prophecy, the Chosen -- can function. Nathan uses his experience in dealing with Hollowed humans as effectively as he can here to manage knights that may have experienced a somewhat similar spiritual and mental effect. To the others, more quietly over radio, "Cover a retreat immediately if they begin massing defenses. We need to preserve them."

Ayako Hasekawa has posed:
    Ayako smiles softly at Shirou. "It's alright! I won't evaporate! I'm making my own water right now." She shakes her head slowly. "It's just... distracting. So I need this to help me out." Her right hand gestures towards the blue cord that Psyber is tugging along.

    When she notes the canteen, she shakes her head slowly. "Keep that for yourself! This place... it's just so hot..." Ayako nods her head once. "You'll probably need a drink yourself soon!"

    Ayako looks back cautiously towards the knights... and then tries to look harmless in accordance with Nathan's orders. She's rather good at looking cute and harmless!

Priscilla has posed:
    Oscar looks to Nathan so swiftly that it instantly communicates he might be implying the man is insane, but starts forward regardless, slowly and casually walking a wide perimeter around the knight in the way, well out of his enormous arm's reach, weapon away but shield at the ready. Priscilla slips after him as a matter of course, vanishing in a puff of swirling ash that immediately draw the knight's attention, but without any kind of urgency despite its apparent alertness, apparently outside of its sphere of assignment. She isn't forging on ahead though. She's staying close by.

    The knight turns to Fassad as he approaches, obviously recognizing a warrior by dress, even if not by tone and bearing, but the hero of Arcadia soon gets the very eerie impression that he's talking to nobody at all. Not that he's talking to someone who doesn't comprehend or doesn't care, but like he's prattling to the wind all on his own. Even Natham, an experienced a diplomat as he is, won't shake the same sensation. The mistake that the two of them have unconsciously made is equating the figure before them to the model of a human before puzzling psychology; understandable considering the strange, eccentric, and often mad folk of Lordran. In reality, the thing they speak to is simultaneously more, and yet so very less than a Hollow. Having been created without a shred of Dark in them, madness is not in the vocabulary of the Knights of Gwyn.

    What stands before them is little more than an echo; a memory of a soul wearing a suit of armour, consumed by mere proximity to the fire; the last traces of which were strong enough to imprint the metal skeleton left behind with its sense of unfailing duty, but with none of the reason why. It shouldn't even come as a surprise when they realize the shadowed helm is entirely empty, visible as it tilts its head skyward.

    The next instant, the air splits with a thrumming shriek, and the ash at their feet explodes as a pair of solid steel lances, seven feet long each, bury themselves halfway into the ground. The attack seems to have come completely out of nowhere, until one spies the glint of metal on a platform several miles away, shining off the pointed tips of equally enormous bows temporarily anchored to the ground by spikes, wielded by a pair of more vigilant knights. The mechanical forces implicit are alarming to think about to say the least, never mind how it broadcasts just how overlapped the fields of fire are with that kind of range. The sword wielding knight makes no steps forward, thus clearly marking them as warning shots. Ironically, it is the act of diplomacy that has made those two impossible to mistake for a true Chosen; seekers of adversity.

    Finally, Solaire decides to try and break some of the tension, gesturing towards the spiral of the tower. "What use is there for such height when nothing covers the approach. What purpose do so many serve so high up rather than as a wall down here?" The question is rhetorical, as the answer should be obvious to at least someone.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber would normally have a comeback for Ayako that's witty and pretty amazing. However, negotiations fail as quickly as they start, but with a much more abrupt signal. The half-angel releases the Ayako balloon as the time for fighting may be at hand, free hand coming to steady the one holding his six-gun.

    When their intent as warning shots becomes clear, Psyber seems to relax just a bit. He's still watching that sword-wielding knight, gun trained on him, but the half-angel slowly inches forward towards not Nathan (because Nathan is in Phantom Form), but Oscar, "Hey Oscar. I think you should take a few steps back for now. We lose you at the 11th hour, shit goes to hell in a handbasket. Got a lot of soul power in you," Psyber comments while still keeping the gun trained.

    "I think we should regroup and come back ready to siege. If we really wanted to push, we can probably clear the way, but my Phantom Form holds me back and I didn't bring anything bigger than this monster handcannon," He advises, "I think we should step back, maybe come back after some time to gather resources and get ready for a hard fight."

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    "The more we kill, the fewer we will have to face the danger of Kalameet." Nathan answers Solaire. "They seek to strike against the dragons." He thinks on that for a moment, pondering what Solaire said. "I believe I have one idea."

    He steps forward, kneels, and inscribes something into the ash, around where those lances fell, pulling an orange soapstone from one of his many pockets. Well, they've got their eyes here. He inscribes, in bold glowing text, a simple message, and he speaks as he does. "There is only one thing I can think of which could be blasted into what's left of their souls that could be more a part of them than the duty to Gwyn." He says, muttering under his breath. And he writes... Kalameet will approach soon. Watch the skies. "Slaying dragons." He says, with a definitive posture to his monotone. "I will see if this gets through whatever remains of them after we leave. When we return, maybe there will be enough shifted attention, maybe there will be enough focus elsewhere, to make less danger for us." He doesn't seem like he's depending on this.

    "We should prepare for a combat assault either way. We have the time we need. For now, examine their placement, prepare your chosen methods of assault, and we will return soon." He turns and begins heading out.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
    Eryl feels a little awkward, leaving negotiations to someone else for a change. But, too many cooks spoil the broth. Fassad looks as if he blends into this world the best, Oscar had Gwyn's approval to be here and Nathan is experienced. It should be fine.

    Until those spearlike arrows pierce the ground before them. Original Face tracks the trajectory back to distant, bow-packing knights that it had written off as a serious threat. The calculations on how far it is and how much strength would be needed to use those mammoth bows... well, it's enough to make Eryl pinch his nose as his head rings.

    He nods along with Psyber and Nathan, muttering to himself. "Fall back, come back better prepared, yes..." Already, he's making a mental checklist. Heavier rounds for his coilguns, shaped to punch through armour. And far more of it than he is currently carrying.

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Lezard acquiesces to Nathan's thought process, withdrawing as he will. Perhaps it is good that he did, as taking a Dragonslayer Bolt to the chest would be inconvenient at best. Sucking chest wounds are Natures way of telling you to slow down.

He adjusts his glasses as he watches the proceedings, the gleam of the nonlight of the Kiln reflecting off of them as he smiles again. There is a single, low emission of amusement. "It appears I may have to prepare something special to assist in breaching this edifice." Lezard states. "I concur, it would be more efficient to bring the proper response to a small army of dragonslaying knights." He turns away, walking from the Kiln as the others seem to come to the same conclusion. "When we return, no mere phantoms shall bar our passage."

Staren has posed:
    Suddenly, lances! Staren looks up, and draws his laser sniper rifle. Is there a different group of nights here? One hostile, one neutral? When Psyber calls for a retreat though, he lowers it and backs away. Ugh, so it will be a fight later...? There's just so many... then again, as long as Priscilla can keep summoning them... but what if /she/ gets targeted? By the things that apparently /have a duty to slay dragons/?

Ayako Hasekawa has posed:
    Ayako eeps softly as the two lances fly into the ground in front of the group in response to their attempt at diplomacy. "I... a warning... shot." She looks up and tries to trace where the two shots came from... and then she just shakes her head. "I... I guess they don't like us much..." Her eyes blinks slowly as she glances at everyone else. "I... umm... yes. Let's... figure something out first."

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe is not making the first move and now she understands these are echos like the things on the floor of death. The Salamander's face becomes more tense as she doesn't move to start the battle as she looks at Solaire for a moment. She dopes listen to Psyber now as she backs up a bit. She looks to Psyber nodding in agreement. 5R
I hear you there we should back off for now and makr eady for later."

Priscilla has posed:
    Priscilla can't exactly fault Nathan on what he's doing. Though conceivably possible for so many Elites to fight through the remains of Gwyn's divine army, she likes the idea less than using the means she's been relying on to get around so far and summoning them in a safer location; especially with the thought of fighting an Everlasting Dragon later in time. She feels more than a little guilty having to leave her friends here after having dragged them out all this way with the implied promise of closure, but after waiting this long, surely the quest can go on just a few days longer. She makes her last few comments over the radio, then begins the long walk across the mountain range, tagging alongside Oscar's trek. Solaire, strangely, seems as if he means to stay a while, though what this place could possibly have to offer him is beyond anyone.

    Just one more step to take.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    Everyone's under attack! Just as Shirou's stuffing his canteen away... he freezes. He can feel there is something Quite Wrong with the way that Knight's responding. "Get back!" he yells, presumably to Ayako, just moments BEFORE the 'arrows' slam into the ground. He leaps back and goes skidding over the ash though it quickly kills his momentum.

    "Pretty obvious, Solaire. We can't get to them!" Well that's ONE answer. Shirou's in a panic, glancing around at all the possible enemies. But he does take a moment to have a goooood look at the 'arrows' being fired.

    And balks.

    Reinforcing his eyes he then takes a VERY good look at the distant snipers and GAPES.

    But the image of these things is BURNED into his mind and soul... he'll not soon forget them, if it's even possible to do so.

    "What crazy archery..."