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Trudy Grimm     The First Death has tested the measures of those present and has not found them wanting. The colossal Draugr slumps against the cathedral-like building's doorframe in a similar resting position that he was in when the group disembarked the VTOL, although now the great door is open and one need only step past him to enter.

    It is not a chapel or church of any sort, though. The great building has been assembled atop a circular chasm winding its way down into the rocky depths. A staircase has been carved into the side, worn with age but still serviceable, lit with iron-wrought lanterns that burn with flickering blue flame.

    Descending into the earth travels further and further from the frigid arctic chill of the surface, eventually becoming a crisp but tolerable ambiance, like an autumnal day. This is most easily noticed once the group has descended far enough that the shell structure is no longer visible-- just a fading spiral of blue lights extending up into the dark.

    Trudy leads the way, supplementing the pale blue lanterns with one of her own that burns with a sickly green-tinted flame, held on the end of a long curved pole that she'd produced from her shadow at the start of the descent.

    Her free hand touches the wall on her left as she descends, her attention largely on the dark stonework and the countless runes carved into everything that isn't a walking surface. Each rune that's touched lights up and also lights up a set around it for a few seconds; and the witch sounds out, "Saemund, Sigewulf, Halvdan, Sigrid and Orokia Nornolfssdottir, Ulfrik Karlsson...."

    Holding the lantern higher, she draws attention to those carvings going as far up as can be seen in the gloom. Holding it out to the side, it becomes more clear that they're etched in basically everywhere. Her tone serious and a little irreverant, Trudy murmurs, "This may be the largest singular memorial marker I've ever seen."
Arthur Lowell >Arthur: Enter

    A soft ping as Arthur catches his breath. A digital sign, above the door, flashing, declaring:

    GO!
    ==>


    He steps on inside, through to the next area. That was one hell of a tussle, and he expects it to not be the only one. Down the stairs, down the winding spiral. Wait, no, Arthur regards the stairs warily for some strange reason, and chooses to drift just slightly to one side from them, but right alongside the group.

>Arthur: Descend

    "Shit," He mutters to her. "Hell of a way to HONOR THE DEAD up in this bitch. But WHICH DEAD and WHY? You get this kind of memorial for TRAGEDIES, how BIG of one we talkin' here? RECOGNIZE ANY NAMES?" He looks it over, muttering softly under his breath. Eyes closed, he briefly contemplates the sheer scale, using his space-calculating brain to neasure the average size of a name and comparing it to the available surface area of the memorial. "Reminds me of DERSE CRYPTS, but way more HISTORY. There's a FLOOR to this thing, right? Damn, yo."
Ishirou Ishirou has gone through some changes since the last time he was here.  He's...well now mechanical, unlike before.  His body is rather simple though, not having very much in the way of modifications or chassis upgrades, instead rather utilitarian.  Also, his head is a screen currently, which has a simple face displayed.

He does still have access to a repaired POD, and his sensors are still on par at least, so there is that.  He keeps his eyes focused ahead, and keeps an eye on things around them, filtering out irrelevant data, and filtering in magical sensors to see if anything stands out.  

"It's definitely very...elaborate.  Are the names meaningful?" he asks, not knowing much in the way of Trudy's world's history.  
Lilian Rook     Entering the dark spiral, Lilian conjures her own will-o'-wisp lights with the usual fingersnap, such a small cantrip being long ago trivial (how she snaps her fingers in armour at all is a good question). It's odd, given that someone particularly detail oriented would remember the dusty amber gold lights as being ghostly blue.

    "Warriors, I suppose. If it's anything like the outside." Lilian remarks offhandedly to Arthur. After the first hundred steps or so, she sighs something under her breath about stairs, and steps off the edge, black static and smoky particles crackling about her as she comes unstuck from gravity, and drifts alongside the group like a ghost, hands behind her back. "So? Your plan, Miss Grimm."
Trudy Grimm     "Ulfrik Karlsson was a king from a few centuries ago," Trudy admits when both Ishirou and Arthur ask about them, "Most of these are outside my knowledge. But there's...A lot of them." She gestures out over the chasm to the countless etchings, "It might well be every person who's ever lived, for all I know."

    During the descent, carved stone eventually gives way to rough bricks and, further, more finely hewn stonework. Pillars on the outer edge that serve as places to hold rough lanterns give way to archways, their lanterns hanging from the keystones. As before, every surface, covered in runic scrawl. The temperature's grown more stable, still chilly but comfortably so.

    "I can't say I've ever heard you speak of these crypts, mister Lowell," the witch admits, "I thought you didn't like dead things. I do try to keep my cute friends under wraps for your sake."

    Trudy pauses when Lilian declares through action that walking is for chumps, closing one eye, "Nice trick." Lifting her gaze and her lantern, she hums, "As for my plan; it's unchanged for now. Speak with the original author of the Grimoire. I'd like to see if they'll share the cyphers to some of the older pages. Whether it's a route to knowledge or new magic, either one is appealing, no?"

    Eventually the bottom is reached. A wide circular stone floor, marked with large carved runes in quadrants. Along the walls, inset plates of a different sort of stone, brighter than the darker granite, are carved with runic reliefs. Pedestals stand at each cardinal point, atop which stands a statue of an armor-clad winged maiden, weapon in hand. Each one is slightly different; a different sort of stone, a different posture, different details to the armor, different weapons.

    There is a great iron-banded door of dense wood, though the whole thing is obstructed in ice all around the edges and up the center where the doors meet, effectively welded shut.

    Trudy holds her lamp up to one of those statues, muttering, "Valkyrie. Warrior maidens of the Allfather, gathering the spirits of warriors who fall in battle and escorting them to the Shining Hall." Shifting her lantern, "Deya, according to legend, didn't die on the battlefield. Before the First Death, there was no underworld and humans did not die. It..." She hesitates to think it over, before settling on, "Didn't go well."

    "A god of Death was appointed. Deya was the oldest, the one who came first. He chose to die peacefully. With his death the underworld was formed." Tilting her eyes upward, the witch hums, "I'm not sure why he's here, though. Even in death he can't stop, I suppose. Since he didn't die in battle, he wasn't chosen by the maidens, so he lingers as he is." She moves her lantern, crossing the chamber to the opposite side, "That's what he meant by the 'Sick and Unchosen'."

    The witch holds her lantern up at another Valkyrie statue, then jolts back when the figure moves. Ragged wings unfurl and spread, fanning out tattered feathers as the woman springs from her perch, twists, and lands lightly in the chamber's center.
Trudy Grimm     On touchdown, runes carved into the stone ignite all at once, casting the entire chamber in a pale blue light that runs across the floor and up the walls. Her spear twirls once, then plants at the stonework beside her steel-clad foot. Her jawline is visible, the upper half of her face hidden by the steel and leather of her helmet which is itself simply incapable of containing the plume of blue-white hair that nearly touches the stone behind her. Unlike Deya, her armor is immaculate, a work of art in bands of silver, black, and cobalt blue, metal-lined cloth and plates flaring off her hips almost like a battle dress. Splashed against it over her heart is an prominent, messy red stain, though the metal itself is undamaged.

    The round shield, itself steel, features the brass embossment of a three-pointed nordic knot, delicately intertwined across the shield-body's multiple interlocked plates. Her spear, its haft dark and indiscernable, sports a head that almost seems to be delicate two-dimensional filigree, glowing with tarnished golden light.

    Trudy belts out a "What's a Valkyrie doing here?!"

    "My business," the winged woman states, her tone firm with authority. Her head turns. Though her eyes aren't visible beneath the helmet, there's a distinct sensation of being intensely evaluated. The spear pulls from where she planted it, raised, and points at-- Lilian, "Gods come and go as they please. The automata of the Dvergr are of no concern to me. But you. Mortal. What brings you here before your path has reached its end."

    Her stance shifts, the spear now pointed at Trudy although the Valkyrie's attention remains on Lilian directly, "Do you bring this Gravewalker here to appease the Lady's wrath?"
Ishirou Ishirou frowns, as he listens, committing everything he can to memory.  When they reach the statue, Ishirou frowns and gives it another stare.  That's odd, it doesn't read as a statue...

Oh, it moves.  And talks.  And is challenging Lilian.  Ishirou's face turns into a digital frown again, looking around at the others here who aren't Lilian.  Then to Trudy who is commented on being a Gravewalker.  "Oh me and Arthur are being ignored.." he says, with a shrug.  

Though he doesn't like the idea of 'appeasing' the lady's wrath.  "So this really is the 'sins of the father' thing."
Arthur Lowell >Arthur: Explain Derse crypts

    "PREMADES," Arthur explains. "For a DEATH KINGDOM. Talkin' 'bout the DUDES DOOMED TO BE DYING, I mean. Me, I only saw the CRYPTS ON THE MOON." He gets uneasy. "NO CORPSES THERE, at least not until that BIG WAR. Most of the top-grade royal graves got CHOPPED IN HALF by a BRAIN GHOST'S MEGA-SWORD though." He doesn't explain any details.

    He eventually reaches the bottom. "If it's EVERYONE DEAD, then they're at least runnin' EXPANSION in the RIGHT DIRECTION. But shit, WATCH OUT FOR STAIRS." He listens to the story, though. "BIG GUY didn't go out FIGHTING? Shit, hard to imagine..." He rambles. "I'd say, they should'a made an EXCEPTION, but... Guess there wasn't much to make an EXCEPTION about--" And then he jumps. Movement! It moved!!

>Arthur: Yell in a manly way

    Arthur yelps in a short jumpscare panic, a burst of movement that launches him back, skidding towards the perch, away from the center. But in his cautious stance, he stays still, listening. He hears the description of everything.

    "Not ignored," He mutters to Ishirou. "'Automata of the Dvergr.' That's you, buddy. You're just not her *jurisdiction*, is how it is." He crosses his arms, looking to her, a little tense. She clocked him as a god the moment they started working, huh? "You know a lot of scores. Well, I got another good one. Gravewalker over here is getting in on this of her own will. She's out and about to figure some things out and make some shit right, all quest-wise." He plants his palms on his hips and beams that shit-eating grin. "Bet'cha the Lady's gonna be *happier* by the time this is done. She's facing up to *responsibilities*, for real. I mean, think this started just investigation, but," His look turns on Trudy, and the grin lessens, just slightly. "Think she's starting to get a certain kind of feel for what's going on, huh."
Ishirou Ishirou pauses, "I'm not a automata, I'm human," he says confused to Arthur. "Oh I guess that makes you a god..?"
Arthur Lowell >Arthur: That makes you a god?

    "Complicated. Would be nice if you just acted like that was a 'no'." Arthur's voice is strained. "And if I'm remembering you right, she's probably working off of old data. The *oldest* data. That psychic lady, her stuff fucks up a lot of old destiny systems I bet."
Ishirou "I wasn't going to treat you any differently, so...alright we'll just pretend you said no and refused to answer," Ishirou says with what turns into a smile on his screen face.
Lilian Rook     For some reason, the four walls demarcated by four stones and four lines, four statues of four different figures, seems to make Lilian just a little uneasy, as she touches down at the bottom. Distracted, even. She's already stopped noticing runes on everything, by this point. "Imagine being left to this, for something so stupid as dying wrong." she murmurs. "Can we not get enough of telling everyone every aspect of how they're supposed to live?"

    The Valkyrie jumping to life is a surprise for her, too; uncommon as that is for a precognitive. Her posture subtly leans back in shock, almost swaying, skin prickling with the instinctive sense of a threat, but her feet remain firmly planted, perhaps more out of overlapping with a moment of private spite than intending to show bravery. Having a spear suddenly pointed at her by an authoritative mythical woman is something that now makes two nickels. Some part of her just assumes it's because she's the only one in the group who registers as any kind of warrior; the business of valkyries. It's 'Mortal' that causes her eyes to widen, and "Beg pardon?" to slip from her lips before she gathers herself.

    Lilian looks around the group assembled. Cyborg. God-boy. Necromancer (is Trudy not mortal? Questions for later). Above, Tamamo makes for a bunrei, and Seras was a vampire. She briefly wonder what that implies about her, preferring their company.

    "That's certainly the first time I've been referred to as such." Lilian says, rapidly smoothing away her surprise and taking on a professionally neutral expression, as if this were a surprise interview. "Rest assured; my 'path' doesn't end here, either; that's already been decided. I'm merely a pilgrim, of sorts." She glances at Trudy as if she needs the reminder to answer. "I'm afraid you've mistaken that, as well. Miss Grimm asked for my company. Selling out someone who's bled in battle for me is against my code." she says, leaning into the nature of valkyries as she knows. "She's chosen of her own volition to be here. It's true, that I've enabled her where she might otherwise, not make it. So you could say that I've brought her here because she isn't like where she came from, and I believe that counts for something."

    "Do you object? I expect this should please your Lady quite well. Or will we be having a grudge duel instead?"
Trudy Grimm     To her credit, Trudy's hands shoot up, palms-out, to show she's not plotting anything when the Valkyrie's spear points her way, "Oh, I'm not here to start any trouble. Knowing what you must have gone through with other, uh... Gravewalkers."

    "Silence your poisonous tongue," the warrior states simply. Trudy clamps it. It's quite obvious by her posture that this creature terrifies her, pressed as she is back against the dias that the woman had been perched on moments ago.

    Only then does her spear lower and her posture change, sweeping the weapon to one side in a resting position, "Gravewalkers are to be slain on sight. Rare however it may be that one be accompanied by living companions." Her head inclines, jaw set in a firm frown, "Were it only the sins of the father, you would have had no need to destroy Deya."

    "He's still alive," Trudy objects, "As much as draugr can be--" She cuts off when the valkyrie shoots her a look.

    The Valkyrie returns her attention to Lilian as she responds to the questions levied to her. Her posture is still as a statue once more, only the subtle rustle of wings. Recognized in warriors as a spring coiled and ready to unleash. A single feather dislodges, drifting to the stonework floor behind her.

    "You speak of a Code. Your bearing is a Warrior's bearing." Her posture straightens slightly. The spear spins once and, with a metallic sound, strikes the floor beside her foot again, "I see that each of you are experienced, to one degree or another, with the battlefield. And you would vouch for this woman?"

    The Valkyrie's head inclines slightly, the curl of her lip indicating not disgust or anger, but deep thought.

    "If it is true that Deya still walks as well, despite your presence here. That this Gravewalker has shed blood to aid your endeavors. That she has come here to right past wrongs, and that you have come to aid her."

    The thoughtful curl becomes a frown, "I see. Very well. You will be permitted to see my Lady. On two conditions." Her footing changes. The tension of the coiled spring releases harmlessly in the process as she plants her left foot slightly behind, presenting her right hand and the angle of her spear, "Face me, as you faced Deya. Show me what you showed him."

    "It is not an evaluation. It is not a grudge. It is not ascertainment. It has been so long... I wish to see what warriors are yet capable of."

    Trudy starts to move and the Valkyrie shoots her a look again, freezing her on the spot, "The Grimm shall spectate. Not take part. This is my second condition." Her gaze returns to the bulk of the group, no explanation given to her sudden change in address, "I shall permit no manifestation of those vile magics here."

    "I am Grima. I was the First to be Slain by Another's Hand. Shall you face a Valkyrie's spear?"