Multiverse Crisis MUSH - User contributions [en]

5958/Escape From Facinaturu

2018-08-09T22:07:23Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/08/05 |Location=Facinaturu |Synopsis=Elites from multiple factions as well those unaligned try to rescue Asellus and White Rose from the tyran..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/08/05
|Location=Facinaturu
|Synopsis=Elites from multiple factions as well those unaligned try to rescue Asellus and White Rose from the tyranny of Chateau Aiguille, run by Mystic Lord Orlouge.
|Cast of Characters=1162, 1103, 136, 1100, 19, 42, 1119, 829
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1162|Asellus (1162)}} has posed:'''     There are only a few ways to reach Facinaturu: by Region Ship, a vessel that can traverse the chaotic dimensional seas that separate the worlds known as Regions; by powerful magic, generally of the teleportation variety; or, less known, by accessing it from a connected Region. Unfortunately, the third option isn't available right now, purely due to ignorance of the possibility, the second requires having visited before or being sent by someone who has, and no one on the trip to Facinaturu owns a Region Ship.     Thankfully, preparations have been made both outside and inside Facinaturu to facilitate both options 1 and 2 simultaneously. Marisa Kirisame has been scouting for an ideal route in and out, and a Region Ship pilot who sneaks in and out of Facinaturu to smuggle goods (and sometimes people) has been hired to bring a bunch of people from one of the only Regions with a known pathway to Facinaturu: Owmi.     After arriving in Owmi by Warp Gate, rescuers will have had some time to get a run-down of the situation, a loose summary of the nature of these worlds and how they're connected, and basically all of the other information already mentioned. What a Mystic is (bloodsucking, illusion-using, usually-people-looking-but-not-always, immortal monsters), what a Region refers to (each world, whether it's no bigger than a city or as vast as an entire planet), and so on and so forth. They are also informed of the data more pertinent to their mission: That they are here to rescue a human girl who died and was brought back as a Mystic (or a Half-Mystic, at least, whatever that is) against her will, who is now also being held against her will, that Marisa is already there, and that a local Mystic intends to help them by stirring up chaos and confusion so that the Region's defenders will be too busy with that to stop them.     The ride by Region Ship takes a few hours. It is a flight upon what kind of looks like a weird twin-propeller plane, above a sea of blue energy. The gaps between the smokey streams of dimensional forces reveal only pockets of black.     At the end of the flight, they are deposited at the edge of a cliff, with a glowing cave leading into the underground caves beneath Facinaturu's human-inhabited village, Rootville. It is here that people will likely find Marisa waiting for them (or maybe not, who knows, she's unpredictable like that). Though if she is, the plus side is she has probably cleared out all the monsters between here and the secret entrance into Rootville, meaning they won't be entering the enemy's domain at less than full fighting strength.     The orange-haired, bandana-wearing pilot says, "I'll wait here. When you need a ride back, just let me know." and stands by with his arms folded. 

:'''{{#var:1103|Theurgus (1103)}} has posed:'''     Theurgus takes a position on the Region Ship near the front, as far forward as possible. Arms folded, an unhinged grin on her narrow face and her eyes scanning the streams of energy. "Amazing, simply amazing. This reminds me of Duty Space!" she says, mostly to herself, though it's going to be hard to ignore her raving.     Once the vessel moors against the landmass, she disembarks, flourishing a staff from pixelated code fragments into her hand as she does so. "This will not take long, good sir." she says to the pilot, then heads off toward the rendezvous point, confidence oozing off of her like magic sparkles from a fairy. 

:'''{{#var:136|Rarity (136)}} has posed:''' It took some long and dirty extra gemhunting to be able to help pay for the Region Ship's services, but this was a matter of friends and opression and saving the day so Rarity had pushed through with little complain. As well as dig up some old contacts from the days before the recent state of affairs. This was important to her, and nothing important was ever done.. oh.. what's the human venacular for it... Half assed? Though how you can have half a mule is beyond her. ... Wonderful, a cliff in a cave. What a lovely way to start off this mission. But again, important, so Rarity keeps her whining to herself as she disembarks the Ship and gives the Captain a polite nod in gratitude. She at least, true to form, came prepared in appropriate attire. A dark black and grey 'sneaking suit' style bodysuit, with a few violet highlights here and there to break up the otherwise dreary lack of colors. Still dark enough to conceal in the shadows. Both her mane and tail have been tighed back and up to keep them from getting in the way, though the ends still curl as usual, and the bangs are still draped down one side of her face, which helps her look all the more rogue and mysterious. 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne (1100)}} has posed:''' Leyanne hops off the ship, carrying a large hardcase over one shoulder. She steps out of the way and opens up the case, taking a moment to assemble her old favourite cannon-for-all-situations, her Bushmaster 25mm cannon on its steadicam rig. Once it's situated and the ammo feed has cycled arounds into the gun, the mouse turns to Rarity.     "You dealt with the fare, right? Remind me when we get back to chip in." She looks to Theurgus, admiring her getup before heading to the RV point.     "You know." She observes. "If we're doing this stealthy, I should probably hang back in reserve. I'm not exactly hard to spot, you know? If shit goes south, that's when you'll need me." 

:'''{{#var:19|Maya (19)}} has posed:''' Rarity had called for some help, she still had a few connections from her Union days. One of them being Maya, who was more than happy to come. Her reaction when Rarity gave her the rundown? Might have been seen is a bit on the intense side which wasn't the norm for those who knew her. A very big red button had been hit. Maya's clothing is dimple desert gear she wears but she's got a dark cloak which also has a mask to cover her lower face on as she falls in behind Rarity. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren hasn't spent much time on this world, but rescuing people from tyrants is rescuing people from tyrants. So, this mission calls for some stealth, but fighting is expected. But maaaybe he shouldn't bring his mecha and just knock over the building. So Staren instead opts to bring a squad of robots for backup. They're dressed in armor like soldiers, but for anyone curious about them, Staren has them take off their helmets and show the robotic 'face' -- optics and speaker grille -- beneath, and talk in robotic tones. Staren himself is in his trusty powered armor.     Staren gives the pilot a curious look as they dismount. "...How do we know the defenders won't attack you to cut off our escape?" Perhaps not the BEST thing to ask the pilot, but if he seems concerned, Staren can leave the robots to guard. 

:'''{{#var:1119|Josuke Higashikata (1119)}} has posed:''' Josuke knows he's going to need all the focus he can muster for this. So on the trip in the ship, he's mainly keeping to himself. Why? Because he's meditating. Carefully regulating his breathing. Breathe out. Get ALL the air out. Hold. Breathe in. Fill the lungs completely. Hold. Breathe out again. Rinse, lather, repeat. While he's doing this, those who can sense life energy might sense a lot of it being produced by Josuke right now! He usually wears dark clothing, and this time is no exception. Dark blue this time, though the gold accents might draw some attention if he's seen. Much like Leyanne, Josuke does not exactly do 'stealthy'. He is prepared to act as a diversion if need be. Once the pilot drops them off, Josuke offers a pleasant smile and a wave. "Thanks!" And then he joins the others. 

:'''{{#var:829|Marisa Kirisame (829)}} has posed:''' What do you do when you're a perfectly ordinary magician about to take on a veritable army of angry sparklelord vampire-wannabes? How do you prepare for something like that? Well, Marisa Kirisame has her ways! Also, she's not on the ship. She's not on the ship because she never actually left Fascinaturu. Instead, she's been waiting, preparing, biding her time, potentially planting caches of useful tools and makeshift, magically-activated explosives at critical crossroads and junctures. You know, stuff like that. Stuff that could be useful against enemies with such a massive home-field advantage. Her advantage, though, is that she has... Certain fore-knowledge about what's about to happen. A knack for chaos, too. When the time comes, she'll be ready. But for now, she sits and waits at a conveniently hidden location, quietly mixing another batch of combustible brew. Soon... Soon...! 

:'''{{#var:1162|Asellus (1162)}} has posed:'''     The pilot answers Staren, "They don't know about this entrance or I'd have been captured a long time ago. But if it comes down to it, I'll take off and wait for you to return before coming close again!"     A trend that the intruders will have to familiarize themselves with starting now is that Facinaturu is dark, and the only regular illumination seems to come from a glowing crystalline structures that are either placed or occur naturally (or magically?). Many times they resembles flowers or ornamentation of some kind, particularly when they have been shaped that way by the Mystics who live here, but at least for now as they make their way through dark cave tunnels with striated patterns and grooved textures on almost plant-like walls, the crystals are just bundled together where they formed and take on whatever form they would normally have developed as they light the way.     Those sensitive to magic can probably feel it surging in the air, and only growing stronger as they move deeper into Facinaturu. This is a Region strong in mystical forces, perfectly suited to its natives. The tunnels seem like the kind of place one would find monsters, but there's no sign of them. There IS the smell of somthing recently burned, but also no sign of whatever was burning. Maybe Marisa lasered all the monsters ahead of time. The journey through the tunnels is relatively uneventful, and eventually terminates in a steep wooden staircase leading to the back of a wardrobe, which has handles built into it for swinging it aside. Beyond that wardrobe... A room, inside of a house. Dimly lit, like the tunnels aside glowing crystals. There's a gurgling slime with googly eyes bubbling and bobbing at the foot of a dresser, but it just watches all the people coming out of the secret exit without interfering. Staren may remember that when he visited Koorong there was a slime there as well, just acting like any other resident of that Region.     And beyond the house's front door... The group's first look at Rootville. It is a small village, the various glowing crystals situated around in the perpetual night giving it a practically festive, Christmas-like appearance. It's pretty. And yet somehow also very sad.     Looking up into the endless dark reveals the home of the Mystics. An enormous castle that stretches up and and up and up and up. It resembles a monstrous, dark tree or rose or something, that never stopped growing. A mad castle that its builder wouldn't stop adding onto in their attempts to touch the stars.     The ominous, crushing aura of power that fills this Region seems to emanate from there. Moments after everyone exits out into Rootville, there is a sudden flare of light, and a few seconds later a distant *boom*. No siren sounds, but the atmosphere shifts to one of greater tension, as secondary explosions ripple down one side of the castle, and then others start appearing in other places. Swarms of flying shapes seem to be circling... Giant bats? Or something worse? Either way, they are much higher up. Hopefully, the rescuers will never meet them.     It seems the insider has begun the distraction. And that just leaves Marisa to find Asellus and White Rose, and the rest of them to clear the path between Rootville and Chateau Aiguille! There's a long set of steps seeming carved into the side of the huge castle-tree's 'roots' leading up towards said castle, and a large gate visible beyond. That must be the way to go! 

:'''{{#var:1162|Asellus (1162)}} has posed:'''     Meanwhile, inside Chateau Aiguille, a green-haired young woman and a brunette in a flowery dress and a big flower bonnet are talking in Asellus's room. "What's going on?" Asellus asks tensely, hearing and feeling the explosions that are much less distant and much louder where she is, along with the sound of yells and... Roars?     "I don't know, Lady Asellus. It sounds as though the castle is under attack, but who would dare to challenge Lord Orlouge?" the Arch-Princess wonders.     Suddenly, a man with emerald-hued hair in purple-blue armor appears.     "Ildon!" White Rose exclaims.     "Good. You're still here." the male Mystic says.     "What's happening? Who is attacking?" Asellus presses, confusion and fear pushing her to try to find answers. Her life since waking up from death has just been one long string of bewilderment, terror, and pain.     "The charm magic keeping some monsters from entering the rest of the castle has fallen." Ildon replies, looking more and more antsy, clearly wanting to get back to the battle.     White Rose furrows her brow in worry. "How could that happen? Those spells were put into place by Orlouge himself."     Testily, Ildon snaps, "I'll tell you when I know more. For now, stay here."     "But--!" Asellus begins, but Ildon has already vanished.     "What do you wish to do, Asellus?" White Rose asks as she turns to her charge.     Asellus doesn't have to think very long. "Well, I'm not staying here. This may be my chance to escape!"     "I see. We'd be get going then."     A few moments later, a Half-Mystic and a Mystic are sneaking out of the coffin-filled chamber downstairs from Asellus's bedroom, for a short time out in the open as they navigate the many stairs leading downwards. 

:'''{{#var:1119|Josuke Higashikata (1119)}} has posed:''' Josuke isn't sensitive to magic, but he's keeping his wits about him as they head down the dark path. Hopefully there's at least enough light to navigate by, if not enough to actually SEE by. Once they end up in the wardrobe, Josuke looks around carefully before exiting, as quietly as he can manage. The slime does produce a moment of startlement, but if it doesn't seem like it's going to attack him -- no reaching towards him, no bowing up and trying to engulf him -- he isn't going to waste his time with it. It might blow their cover before it's time. Once they're out in the village proper, Josuke pauses a moment to take it all in... and to look for immediate danger! The explosions, of course, definitely draw his attention. "What the...?!" Well, if there's a ruckus, that means there's a distraction. Which means that there's probably going to be fewer people in their way. "Good. Hopefully that'll pull some attention away from us," he notes, as he heads for the castle. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren's magic sensors indicate levels that look more like home or Ainsley's world than most Earths. Man, it sure would be useful to be able to use magic at times like this. A leyline walker on a leyline is truly a fearsome combatant... But, he's brought weapons that work regardless of the local magic level.     Darkness isn't a problem for his sensors, and he'll happily provide additional light for any who need it. "That's not a monster!" he warns, when they see the slime living in a house.     He only has just enough time to take in the village before the explosions begin. Does an order even need to be given? He and his squad of robots rush towards the castle, the machines searching for ingress at ground level while Staren flies up and looks for a way in in the first few stories. 

:'''{{#var:136|Rarity (136)}} has posed:''' As long as the slime isn't a Smooze, there's no problem from the pony with it. Exiting the dark caves through the house and into the somewhat less dark comparitively speaking town Rarity lifts her head to gaze up towards the castle. And then shakes it a bit. They're too far away, with how dense magic is in this world she wouldn't be able to push through it to scan for the friendship braclet she'd given Asellus without exhausting herself. Which would not do them any good for the escape. "We need to get closer," Rarity remarks, before taking off after Josuke towards the castle. And those accursed flights of stairs. At least this time she isn't wearing high heels. While she'd rather avoid fighting if possible she does have her bejeweled shortbow and of all things a collapsed bumbershoot slung across her back, just in case... 

:'''{{#var:19|Maya (19)}} has posed:''' Maya holds nothing against the pilots plan to keep their distance heck it's a smart one and she also notes Staren is along for the ride on this. All right another person she has experience working with. She feels a level of magic akin to her home, but that does not set her at ease, no it leaves her warier. Still, her core rifle might be able to make use of that much magic being in the environment. She looks up at the castle and takes a moment to look at the thing, it gives her an ominous feeling and the old Elite presses onwards with the team. Maya takes off right after Rairty and Josuke running at a good clip. 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne (1100)}} has posed:''' Leyanne tries to move as quietly as she can, following Josuke, Rarity and the others. "Way too quiet." She mutters, commenting on the lack of hostiles along the way. She gives the slime a pleasant nod, only to catch the top of her head on the doorway on her way out. She pauses, checks the damage, and then looks to the slime. "Sorry about the dent." She says, ducking out of the door to follow the others. She watches the explosions ripple up the castle, nodding to Rarity and Josuke. "Lead the way." She says, scanning around with her cannon. She only shoots at things which make hostile moves. 

:'''{{#var:1103|Theurgus (1103)}} has posed:'''     Theurgus strides through the tunnels, using her staff as a makeshift lantern by limming the marble in the head with pale blue light. She doesn't break her stride, despite the lack of threats where there really should be some. The magical aura emanating from further ahead gets that broad grin on her lips again. "Powerful magicks here. A treasure trove." She chuckles, a little unhinged, a little brash.     She opens the doors, looks to the slime and when it doesn't immediately begin attacking, ignores it and proceeds outside.     The explosions begin, and her blue eyes glitter in the magics being expelled from them. "Wahahahah! Amazing, simply spectacular! The Organization will never know what hit them!" she raves, summoning a small silver 'spike' which she tosses into a nearby wall. It opens up like a flower, and begins taking a 'beam' of energy in from somewhere. "Fine then, let us add to the pandemonium! ACCESS!"     Theurgus's form is engulfed in a pillar of chromatic light, obscuring her from view as code fragments lace around them. The pillar bursts after a moment, revealing the form of Diamond Soul. Her body clad in a form fitting suit, a billowing halfskirt around her hips, and large clockwork-like armour segments adorning her feet, hips, shoulders and atop her head and on her hands. "KNOW THAT DIAMOND SOUL HAS ARRIVED! Show me the respect I deserve and you shall be spared!" she bellows, lifting into the air and making a great show and dance of being a really loud and obviously antagonistic being, the 'wings' of her Processors flaring out and gleaming as light catches on the metallic parts. 

:'''{{#var:829|Marisa Kirisame (829)}} has posed:''' Explosions! Great big fireballs that light up the night in the best possible ways. There's no better way to attract attention than by sending up a great big boom, especially from the more dubious quarters of society. Also a witch. A very peculiar witch. A witch who REALLY likes explosions. Marisa stares at the glittering, explodifying castle through a pair of dark goggles. Her lips curl, split, and unleashes a terribly witchy cackle. It's the kind of cackle that suggests that she's probably spent a good deal of time in front of a mirror perfecting it. She howls with laughter as she rises into the sky, a witch-shaped shadow against a glowing sky. "Hoo boy, I didn't think he was serious! But he was! Ahahahahaha! Let's get this party started!" Marisa drops low against her broom, wiggling herself into position like a cat getting ready to pounce. The bristles spark, hiss, fume, and finally explode!! Marisa shoots through the sky, a witch turned meteor. Her laughs are lost in the boom of the rushing wind as she rockets at breakneck speed toward that tower she oh-so-casually got a bird's eye view of all those weeks ago, when she first laid eyes on it. She sweeps her hand through the air, a solid hemisphere of magic lensing open in front of her as she goes to plunge deep into the construction and the staircase beyond. "HEY ASELLUS!" Marisa yells as she brakes, her ~magical barrier~ dissolving into motes of prismatic light. "Grab your girlfriend and come with me if you want to live!" Beat. "And escape! That too! I'm here to rescue you, is what I'm saying here!" 

:'''{{#var:1162|Asellus (1162)}} has posed:'''     There's a pair of large, sturdy-looking, ornate gates that look as though they stretch up some 40 or 50 feet at least at ground level when closed, after coming up the stairs, but they appear to be retracted up, leaving the way inside the castle open, much as it was when some people here came for the party at Chateau Aiguille where they met Asellus and learned of her plight in the first place... Convenient. Just more help from their local benefactor, or perhaps from Marisa. The former seems more likely, since he might actually know the magic to open the gates. And inside is the same large circular room with branching stairways to the left and right that once served as the banquet room, and the large doorway beyond to the north that leads into the throne room. Too close to the Region's ruler's favorite chair for comfort, perhaps. Hopefully they don't run into him or anyo--OH GOD.     A green-haired man in tangerine-hued nobleman's attire appears in the middle of the room. He teleports in just as he did when he welcomed the Multiversal visitors to that party. He is smiling broadly, as he was then, and speaks cheerfully as his voice booms throughout the room. "I wish I could bid you welcome to my lord's castle, but you are, unfortunately, intruding. As such, welcoming you would be inappropriate. However, I do have some friends who are glad to see you here." Rastaban raises a hand and snaps his fingers. Five giant bats come swooping in and take up formation in the middle of the room, surrounding a huge minotaur with a very long axe-bladed polearm. "I'll leave you in his care..." the Mystic says as he fades out of existence.     Whether this is due to Theurgus's yelling or if Rastaban was going to ambush them regardless because he noticed the gates were open is unclear, but either way, attention has been drawn. Perhaps some of them should fight off this boss encounter while the rest continue upwards to find those they are here to rescue. Rarity and Josuke may recall the left-hand staircase leads further up the castle, while the right-hand one dead-ends in a magical training room. 

:'''{{#var:1162|Asellus (1162)}} has posed:'''     Sneak, sneak, sneak! Asellus and White Rose pop outside right as Marisa comes in dive-bombing them. Asellus jumps backwards, one hand going for the Mystic's arm, while White Rose remains composed and patient as Marisa calls for them to hop aboard. "Wha--Marisa? Are you behind this?" Asellus asks. Then, belatedly, "She's not my girlfriend!"     "Lady Marisa, I take it you know a way out of here? Lady Asellus was informed of one as well, but that's..."     Then a pair of white-haired Mystics teleport in suddenly. "Not so fast!" one of them yells. Compulsory non-coded random encounter start!     The two warriors, draw glowing mystic blades and prepare to attack. One of them manages to get off a blast of stone gas from a glove he's wearing thanks to the ambush, but the other is a bit slower. Seems Marisa, Asellus, and White Rose have their work cut out for them! 

:'''{{#var:136|Rarity (136)}} has posed:''' Oh look, their mysterious friend left the gates open. Now they can get inside and fi--And it's an ambush. Of course. For a moment Rarity's ears splay back as she rolls her eyes with a sigh of exasperation. It's times like this Rarity kind of wonders why people like Twilight put so much effort into extended planning. Plans never seem to remain intact as soon as enemies appear. Then she snaps back into heroine mode. "Oh just what we need, a tacky Iron Will fanclub." Because minotaurs. Got to make a reference somewhere. "Very well then." The unicorn lowers her head and scraps a hoof on the floor a few times as if readying for the fight. Though it is hardly an attack she's readying, now that they're in the castle she can start magic-scanning for the bracelet. As well as recalling their previous tour of location. The left was the way that went into the castle's other floors, she doesn't need magic to recall that. "Uncouth brutes. Don't have the time to deal with you. TALLY HO!" Rarity launches herself into a faux charge, using her smaller size and nimble hoofwork to duck around one of the minotaurs and make a beeline for the left stairway. 

:'''{{#var:829|Marisa Kirisame (829)}} has posed:'''     "I'm not hearing a lot of denial from Snow White over there. But yeah, there's a way out. Like, one that doesn't involve burning. I don't know if you know, but witches are very flammable!" Marisa laughs and drops lower to allow 1.5 mystics to hop onboard the Witchy Express. Unfortunately, that number increases to 3.5 mystics because it turns out that ramming a castle tower at meteoric velocities tends to attract unwanted attention. The stone gas (!?) blasts out in a great gout which Marisa just barely manages to dodge, darting and barrel-rolling around the periphery as she makes to grab hold of something lodged into the bristles of her broom. She clicks her teeth as the very tippy top of her hat is abruptly petrified and dimples the rest of the distinctly conical (if floppy) headpiece. "That was one of my favorite hats, you jerk! I'm gonna have to disenchant it and then RE-enchant it now!" Marisa flips upright again and gestures boldly, summoning a veritable barrage of magical projectiles! The emerald bolts arc forward, bursting not on impact but just as they draw near. But probably more worrying for those two Mystics than the magical flak exploding nearby is that those bolts seem to be draining ambient magic within their area of effect... And funneling it to the witch responsible! Is SHE a mystic, too!? That distinctly sharky grin might just make it seem that way. 

:'''{{#var:1119|Josuke Higashikata (1119)}} has posed:''' Josuke skids to a stop when he sees the green-haired man appear suddenly. "...Crap," he spits. Of course there are monsters... because of COURSE there are. Josuke bares his teeth, not bothering to give any retort. Not that the green-haired man leaves any time. Everything in Josuke's nature tells him to stay, to help. He doesn't want to leave friends to deal with this alone. But Rarity's going on up the stairs, and he doesn't want HER to have to deal with any resistance she finds alone. And this WAS why he asked the Gatecrashers for help. So he grits his teeth... and heads up behind Rarity. "Be careful!" he calls back to those staying to fight the minotaur and bats. 

:'''{{#var:1103|Theurgus (1103)}} has posed:'''     Diamond Soul continues to hover a foot or two above the ground, even when 'resting'. She brandishes her staff at Rastaban when he appears, "The days of The Organization are numbered! Surrender and your death will be sw--- hey come back here!" She doesn't even get to finish her 'Heroic' warcry before the noble Mystic vanishes away and the Minotaur steps into view. "Hah, prodigious size has no intrinsic merit!" she recovers, easing back from the very frontline so someone with a bit more 'tank' can take the hits for her. "Come then, I shall show you the magicks of the Diamond Drive!"     A twirl of her staff, she begins to charge power into the marble at the head of her non-euclidian Geordian Knot of a staff. The marble cycles through the elemental colours of The System, Ice Flame Lightning Wind Light and Darkness. She isn't loosing off anything yet, but the magical field in the area begins to warp and fold around that staff's head, drawing energy into the seemingly bottomless abyss within the gem. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Okay, so there's a giant gate left open for them by their people on the inside. Staren and his squad move in... and enemies were just waiting there? Suspicious... staying here for long might not be a good idea, but he certainly can't let the monsters chase his allies! Staren fires plasma missiles into the air, trying to fry the bats, while his squad of robots fire their rifles at the minotaur's upper body.     "You know, you're a pretty rude host! What kind of entertainment is this, it will only last for a few seconds!" Staren taunts the disappearing mystic. Maybe he'll reform and they can shoot him? 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne (1100)}} has posed:''' Leyanne skids to a halt as she spots the dude in orange. "You know, that suit with that hair." She calls out to him. "Makes you look like a piece of fruit." She listens to his speech, looking bored. Hopefully this will give Jo and Rarity a chance to dart past, especially with how obnoxious Staren's being. He seems to be trying to take the 'tank' role... Theurgus needs cover. That she can do. Planting her feet, the mouse opens up with that Bushmaster cannon of hers, letting the muzzle play across minotaur and bat alike 

:'''{{#var:19|Maya (19)}} has posed:''' Maya has a lot of firepowers it's true but she was one of the top healers in the old Union as well if there are people to get out? Healing aid could be of use in the rescue attempts she'll move to follow after Rarity and her sprints. "Let's keep going I trust the others to be able to handle this." She knows several of them and has heard of the others, there should be little issue with their ability to handle this. Maya bound and sprints after her friend. "Anything else I'd need to know about this Rarity?" 

:'''{{#var:1162|Asellus (1162)}} has posed:'''     Theurgus's attack may not have done any damage, but it seems she is building up power nicely. The ambient magic here is sufficient to bolster her already prodigious power! Staren's missile barrage deals damage to all of the bats in a spectacular display of plasma pyrotechnics, though the Minotaur swings its axe in an arc, somehow severing and casting away the missiles that would have hit it before they can damage it. Leyanne's barrage strikes all of her targets, and none of them seem happy about the scratches and wounds and burns, though the boss monster seems less fazed than its adds. And thennnnn the true terror of a bunch of giant bats is exposed.     Waves of piercing, agonizing sound radiate from one of the bats, engulfing all targets in a cone in front of it. And then the next bat does the same. And then the next... Thankfully the remaining two flap into melee range to slash with their claws, one against Staren, and one against Leyanne, but sound attacks may be surprisingly painful! Though nothing compared to what the Minotaur unleashes. It slams its axe into the ground and the shockwaves released as it seems like the whole bottom half of the castle is trembling are damaging in and of themselves!     Meanwhile, as Rarity, Maya, and Josuke run upstairs, they encounter some of the monsters Zozma released as a distraction. Thankfully not whatever terrifying ones are making things explode higher up, but still fairly unpleasant. A frill-necked lizard 2.5 times taller than a human comes charging in, accompanied by some kind of oversized pill bug. The lizard wastes no time in dashing at them at super speed, trying to just ram them when they reach the platform it's stalking for prey on, while the giant bug breathes out some kind of acid bug juice that tries to splash down on the group. Better get out of the way!     Marisa's bombardment damages the enemy Mystics. Asellus has grown a bit stronger since she started off in Ildon's training regimine of death, it seems, because while she isn't turned to stone, when she takes damage she doesn't immediately keel over dead! ...That's an improvement, honestly! Asellus draws her sword, a glowing red blade that trembles with rage all its own, and charges the enemy in a sequence of moves that cause the blade to seemingly grow to a huge size and much longer as she slashes repeatedly, and then brings it down in an overhead swing! Combined with Marisa's energy-sapping attacks, the first Mystic falls. The second seems to take his buddy's demise under advisement and casts a spell, summoning a shield of glass to protect himself! White Rose summons a nightmarish ghost like creature for a moment to attack the guard, and it seems magic bypasses the shield because he is soon thrown into a temporary slumber by the magic invading and damaging his mind.     Something large is flapping its wings, so it sounds like they'll have more company soon. Maybe airborne evacuation isn't the best route to take with all these critters flying through the air... But since when has Marisa ever listened to common sense? 

:'''{{#var:1103|Theurgus (1103)}} has posed:'''     Theurgus is lucky that she isn't touching the ground, floating a few feet from it in fact. So, when those bats start screaming sonic cones out, and the Minotaur slams its axe into the ground to send a shockwave out, she lifts further up into the air, "Impressive strength, however, as I said before, prodigious size alone has no intrinsic merit!" she says, aiming along her staff at the Minotaur.     The marble at the head of her staff locks into a single colour, and an orb of collected energy forms, expanding outwards to engulf the entire head of the staff, pulsing with Marbled White light. "Luminous Wall, Great Bulwark, bring unto me the runtimes that thine processes doth bare; as I render unto you. Ensure that the attempts of the malicious Virii prove fruitless! Annihilate their offences! Vanquish their hopes! Rend the Null! Divine Pulsar!" The energy bows outward from the orb, splitting it open into a beam that rushes down at the giant bullman in a torrent of Light-elemental power, searing a path through the air to its target. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren was kiiind of hoping that would just kill the bats. Turns out they're even tougher than he expected... and he also didn't expect ranged attacks from bats! The sonic attack shakes his suit, loosening plates and interfering with his robots' electronics. At least he gets his forcefield up in time to block the claw... which scratches the surface of the field and sends him tumbling through the air before he steadies himself and drops the field again to fire a scattered pair of beam shots at the closest bat, trying to drive it away... though that won't really help against sonic, will it?     On the floor, the robots seem to hesitate as their systems are disrupted. They certainly aren't programmed to deal with earthquakes, and are left tumbling to the floor and being shaken around. Only when it stops can they roll into prone firing position and fire again at the minotaur -- their underbarrel launchers fire tiny, pen-sized missiles that try to blow holes in any armor it may have. 

:'''{{#var:829|Marisa Kirisame (829)}} has posed:''' Ha ha ha, common sense. In Gensokyo? Surely you jest! Gensokyo does not permit such things! It's another facet of ordinary humanity that's effectively vestigal and useless in a true and proper Top Dog of Paradise! Marisa hears the beating of wings and realizes two things. One: There is a giant winged monster coming her way. Two: Ehhhh, I can probably still outrun it. And with White Rose incapacitating the second of the two Mystics, Marisa wastes little time in going about attempting /exactly that./ "Come on! We gotta move!" The witch yells, moving to foist the 1.5 mystics that she's actually here to retrieve onto her broom. "Snowy, sounds like we got company. Can you do some more of those illusion-y tricks and distract it while we make a break for it?" Marisa doesn't have common sense. That doesn't mean she can't still make decent plans! Speaking of. "Oh, also. You're going to want to hold on tight. I go /real/ fast." It's true! She is the (second) zippiest in all of Gensokyo. (Tengu are dirty cheaters) 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne (1100)}} has posed:''' Leyanne actually seems to deal quite well with the screeching; possibly turning something off or cutting the sensitivity of her ears to block the sound out. It 's hard to tell. She fares a little less well when the bat gets in her face and slashes at her armour, slicing through the armoured bodysuit between the hardcase components. She snarls, letting go of her cannon and grabbing at the bat with her left hand. Should she succeed, she'll slam it against the floor several times to put it out of the fight, before throwing it at the bat that's going for Staren, hoping to take /that/ out of the fight too. THen the shockwave hits, knocking the mouse down to one knee, and further compounding the damage from the claw strike. "Damn." 

:'''{{#var:136|Rarity (136)}} has posed:''' "Just be ready for anything," Rarity calls back to Maya's question. "We don't know what other creeps he has running around this chateau." Case in point as they come onto the platform only to find creatures already lurking there. Pause. Then another sigh. "Sometimes I hate being right." No one would really expect a prissy fashionista to be a seasoned adventurer, but after all the things she's been through with her friends and the Multiverse as a whole? Rarity barely flinchs. In one smooth motion she twirls aside the lizard almost like a dance step, pulling the bumbershoot from her back as she's on her hindlegs and opening it up in front of herself more akin to a shield than it's typical usage. The bug vomit splashes over it and starts to eat away at the fabric and frame, leaving a horrible stench in its wake. But that's better than eating their flesh, right? "Oh bother." She tosses the dissolving remains off over her shoulder. "But I have an entire closet of them." At least it wasn't a designer one. "As for you." Rarity uses her gemstone magic to summon a large one and launch it at the pill bug, trying to gag it's mouth-parts with something that won't be so easily corroded. "We don't have time for a drawn out fight, disable them so we can move on!" she calls to the others. 

:'''{{#var:19|Maya (19)}} has posed:''' Maya is not bothere by giant bugs, her world is full of them the lizard though? That thing makes Maya's skin crawl. She tagets it first opening fire at it with her rifle as she keeps trying to move, the bug juice that's bad news and she may very well pay for it. 5R "Looks like we have an idea now!" Maya is mostly using her rifle to keep the things at bay while her allies work. Her cloak gets caught and she's forced to throw it away before the acid gets onto her. This gives the monsters and opening to strike at her while she trist to rish out a fate card and unleahs a water spell at the bug and lizard. "I know if you have to go on ahead without me." 

:'''{{#var:1119|Josuke Higashikata (1119)}} has posed:''' The giant pillbug's acid spit is the greater threat, Josuke realizes. And so he summons his Stand to pick himself up by the front of his jacket and toss him to the side a little, to avoid the acid spit. He doesn't QUITE get completely out of the way, though. Or at least, his Stand doesn't. The acid manages to splash against the Stand's back before Josuke can demanifest it. Josuke gives a hiss as the skin on his back, exactly in the same place as Crazy Diamond was hit, despite his clothes not taking the damage. While Rarity tries to 'gum up the works', so to speak, with her magic, Josuke decides to try to further assist with pest control duties. He throws out a hand, palm aimed in front of him. "<CRAZY DIAMOND!>" he calls, for the sake of focus. At his words, the Stand appears, lunging towards the (hopefully gummed-up) pillbug creature and aiming a flurry of quick punches at it. "DORARARARARARARA!" 

:'''{{#var:1162|Asellus (1162)}} has posed:'''     Theurgus's attack tears through two bats on its way to the Minotaur, and the flapping SonicBats fade out of existence in a prismatic array of colors, releasing some kind of energy in the process. The Minotaur takes the powerful wave of magical force to the face, its head thrown back as it bellows in pain, its body smoldering... But not yet fallen. Tough monster! It's roughly five times taller than the tallest person here, so it's somewhat to be expected, but it's not called a boss monster for nothing.     Staren's attacks combined with those of his robots dole out additional damage to bats and Minotaur alike. The beams eliminate a third of the tough bats, one piercing its wing, the other its body. It likewise disintegrates in a flash. The Minotaur wears no armor. It just has a very tough hide and awesome muscles. I guess you could say it's rather... Beefy.     It still roars in pain as the stinging missiles explode along its flesh. A fourth bat is grabbed by Leyanne and slammed into the ground repeatedly, creating a dust cloud from the previously shattered floor where no one can see what's going on until it clears. A native of this world might think she's just used the Scuffle technique. Only one oversized flying rat remains!     The Minotaur, weakened and injured, lifts its huge axe and swings it over its head repeatedly. Then it begins racing around the area, trying to trample and slam all of its challengers while chopping them with its axe. Between the tremors of its hooves and the impacts of hits blows, hit or miss, the ground is shaking enough to send everyone tumbling around or possibly knock flying Elites around in the air.     Meanwhile, Josuke, Maya, and Rarity confront the pair of random encounter monsters. Rarity manages to confuse the Armorpilla, lending it to damage itself as it dries to use Bug Juice again but can't, just winding up hurting its own mouth parts.     The Frillneck is zapped with Maya's laser rifle and then struck by her water attack, and the Armorpilla alongside it for the second one as well. Josuke pummels the Armorpilla repeatedly until it disintegrates into multicolored light. The Frillneck was washed off the platform, falling to its doom. Yay! They can move forward! Josuke, Rarity, and Maya can ascent the castle to link up with--Suddenly, Marisa, with Asellus and Marisa on her broom, may come flying down towards them. In their wake is... 

:'''{{#var:1162|Asellus (1162)}} has posed:'''     Several seconds ago, Marisa asked White Rose to deal with whatever was coming. The Arch-Princess turns, arms around Asellus's waist from behind, and Asellus's around Marisa's, and she doesn't say anything immediately, perhaps leading to worry as the sound of those wing beats get louder and louder. "I think that..." she begins. "...Is a little bit beyond me."     Asellus turns to look too, and her green eyes widen. Even with the boost to her abilities gained from absorbing energy from that one Mystic, it is still a meager increase for one still starting out. She is not going to be able to handle... THAT!     A huge, twisted face, like something between a lion and a human, with a body that is likewise a foul mix of woman and lion, but with large bird-like wings, and a crown upon its wicked brow, is flying very close behind them. Close enough the air pressure from its wing beats buffets them. It tries to drive bomb them, creating such turbulence with its own flight that it might well force Marisa down by the force of its passage... Though thankfully they may pass right by Josuke, Rarity, and Maya in the process.     And they get a good look at the giant Sphinx that chases their ally and their rescue targets, as it uses its most deadly attack. "What is black and blue and red all over?" Ancient magics crackle on its teeth as it opens its mouth horrifyingly wide, easily big enough to swallow Marisa and crew whole and still have room for Josuke, Maya, and half of Rarity. "YOU, WHEN I'M FINISHED!" A powerful curse flashes outwards, expanding and expanding, until it strikes Asellus in a flash of power that turns everything black and white, and then inverts the colors.     Asellus faints from the instant kill power of the Sphinx Riddle, falls from the broom, plummeting towards a certain firey cave on the outskirts of Rootville, and taking White Rose, hanging on so tight, along with her.     There may be an opportunity for the allies on the platform to blindside and lay into the Sphinx before it fully passes them by, and keep it from chasing down Marisa or finishing the job it started with the two Mystic ladies. And with Josuke's power... Maybe it's not too late to save Asellus if he can get rid down to the Mystic Flame called Kurenai. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Bats disintigrate. It feels like they're making progress! Staren keeps his distance as the minotaur runs around swinging its axe. One of the robots is trampled, unable to get away fast enough, but the rest retreat to the edges of the room and take aim -- they have plenty of shots left.     As does Staren. He holds out his arms, and six magic marker-sized missiles launch from the forearms. These seek the minotaur and airburst inches away, exploding into jets of weaponized physics that could each put a nasty hole through the beast...     The robots', meanwhile, are a bit more conventional aside from their small size -- they use impact-fuse explosives to soften up the target for a high-speed kinetic penetrator behind the warhead.     Staren really hopes this takes it down. This is the last salvo of missiles he can fire without reloading. 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne (1100)}} has posed:''' Leyanne snarls and manages to duck out of the way of the axe, only to get shoulder-barged out of the way by the minotaur himself. She hits the ground and rolls, drawing her pistol from its holster as she does so. As her chain gun rattles and clicks as it tries to clear itself, she switches her aimpoint to the minotaur's knees. She wants to slow it down so it doesn't hurt so much next time around, and at the same time it'll be easier for her allies to hit. She hopes, at least. "C'mon." she mutters "Unjam you piece of shit!" 

:'''{{#var:136|Rarity (136)}} has posed:''' "Well that takes care of that." As the creatures are defeated and discarded Rarity heads for the next set of stairs .... only to yelp and duck down as Marisa comes blasting through on her broom. She peaks out from under one hoof. "Oh good, she found the--" And then covers her face again as the Sphinx roars past in pursuit with its horrible riddle that is barely a riddle. Yet somehow is terribly lethal. "Of all the worst possible things..." And that, seeing their intended rescuee and her friend sent tumbling towards whatever lies below is what snaps her back to reality, rising to her hooves and grasping Crystal Stitcher. "... IS WHAT WE'RE GOING TO DO TO YOU FOR THAT!" Ooh, changing up the lines a little there. Hey it's no worse than the Sphinx's so-called riddle. Rarity draws the magic bow back, several sharp gem-tipped arrows appearing as she does, and scowls in an extremely unlady-like fashion. She takes aim, using skill and magic alike, brow furrowed... Aim, Breath... and Fire! Multiple projectiles are fired, aimed for the Sphinx's wings and back to try and disrupt it's ability to continue it's pursuit. 

:'''{{#var:1103|Theurgus (1103)}} has posed:'''     Diamond Soul twirls her staff once the beam fades out. She is suitably shocked when the Minotaur is still standing, despite being pretty beaten up. "I guess prodigious size does have one intrinsic merit." she remarks, floating above the battlefield...     And then the Minotaur makes like a giant bullish blender and she's disrupted out of the air, and straight into a wall, slamming into it hard and cracking several of her Processors in the... process. She lands on her feet, unsteady and using her staff to balance, big red spiderwebs of damaged code covering her body. "A little tougher than I expected, but that's The Organization for you. Unpredictable. No matter!" She sets her stance, lifting back into the air again and twirling her staff. "You shall fall here. "Ye lord! Mask of bits and code, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Program! Proc and codec, upon this aggregated compilation of encoding unleash but slightly the wrath of your claws! PHOENIX TALON SURGE!"     With a sweep of her staff, she engulfs the minotaur in a burning ring of flame, attempting to both contain its motion and damage it at the same time. 

:'''{{#var:19|Maya (19)}} has posed:''' Maya is ascending up the castle with the monsters handled but then comes something unexpected. Marisa has Asellus on a broom, they also have things following down after them. Is a Sphinx? She knows of the creature type from Earth Myths and her own adventures in the multiverse but that only goes so far as how it looks after that all bets are off and she knows it. She nearly gets knocked over but she's managed to not get hit by the wake. "Jinac!" Is all that comes out of Maya's mouth in response to the Sphinx a reference to her world's hell, this is bad, very bad. Asellus is hit with some sort of curse. Reality turns on its head and it leaves Maya odd balance for a moment. "My hair's already blue!" Maya calls out hoping to distract the creature, while she preps some more serious magic, she has two cards in hand now, one is green and one is red. She holds both Law and Chaos in her hands, blue fire bleeds out of her body that anyone unaided can see it and it flows into the card,s they glow with the same blue aura as she holds them. Well failing the odd effect the creature has caused then it's various glowing shades of grey. "JOSUKE GO! We'll hold this thing off!" She returns to her spell muttering in something to herself as she focused. "When creation was made law and chaos met and the result was destruction that leads to creation! DESTROYER!" Maya lets full her unrestrained magical power for a moment on the beast pulling at it very forms it might feel like something is trying to rip it apart with some serious cosmic energy. 

:'''{{#var:829|Marisa Kirisame (829)}} has posed:''' That. Is a sphinx. Now, Marisa has never actually seen a sphinx in person. She's aware of their existence. She's read about them. She once had a laser-fight with a giant magical robot that kind of had a very passing resemblance with them. But fighting them is another thing entirely. "What," Marisa deadpans as the massive thing flies up and... And... That... Riddle. Colors drain from the world. Marisa yelps in surprise and pain as the magic takes hold. But there are a few things here that keep Marisa from suffering quite as much as Asellus just did. First, Asellus took most of the hit. Second, Marisa is ALREADY monochromatic. The black-white witch being what she is, a simple color-drain isn't going to murder her. But, third-- and most importantly-- "WHAT THE HELL," Marisa yells, "KIND OF RIDDLE IS THAT!?" --Is that Marisa is just /so totally unimpressed/ by the sphinx's supposedly legendary riddling skills. "At least ask about three legs at night or SOMETHING. Come /on!/" Marisa squawks furiously as she lifts high overhead a strange, octagonal device emblazoned with the signs of the eight trigrams. "My adorable book comes up with better riddles and she's ALMOST LITERALLY TWELVE. And look at what you did!" Marisa gestures at her dress. It's... Gone all backwards. The colors have gone from black and white to white and black. It all just looks /wrong./ "You're gonna pay for this! And for what you did to Asellus! Now, riddle me this! What's red and orange and yellow and green and blue and indigo and violet all over!?" "THAT'S RIGHT!" Marisa grins, flourishing her broom in mid-air such that the strange octagon ends up wedged back in its bristles. She points, aims, mounts, and then... "It's my very own love-colored magic! Roar, my Mini-Hakkero! Behold, the shooting star that captures all the lights in the sky!" The octagon- the mini-Hakkero- shines! It glows with seven colors of light at the very minimum! Marisa laughs, standing tall atop her broom, "HERE WE GO!"                             COMET - BLAZING STAR!!                             The Hakkero flashes! It unleashes a peal of thunder that can be heard for miles and releases a massive cone of rainbow light and asterial sorcery that cuts the sky in two and smashes right into the Sphinx! Marisa cackles madly as she rockets away in the opposite direction-- but only for a moment. She tilts her broom upward, arcs around, and finally swings back down toward the pair of bodies tumbling to the earth... And goes to snatch them up at just the last moment...! "I've gotcha," Marisa growls against the booming air around her ears as she banks down towards that blazing cave, "Hold on tight, we're going to have to go for plan B!" Is she... planning on going in with them? Nah, probably not. Marisa's dumb, not suicidal. 'Plan B' might just involve... Getting them to the ground without dying. And, potentially, somewhere close enough for Josuke to get to them and heal Asellus' wounds...? 

:'''{{#var:1119|Josuke Higashikata (1119)}} has posed:''' The group Josuke is a part of tops the stairs to see the Sphinx. And to see what just happened with Marisa, Asellus, and White Rose. The Sphinx is still a threat, and it's liable to double back and try for Marisa too. There's also the problem of the KO'd Asellus -- even if White Rose is with her, that is a HELL of a drop! With Rarity and Marisa handling the Sphinx, Josuke's attention is drawn to the falling Mystic and Half-Mystic. Almost before Maya speaks up, Josuke is already heading for the drop. "Asellus! White Rose! Hang on!" Not that there's much else they can do. But Josuke does something incredibly stupid. He runs at the edge of the drop... And vaults over. In fact, he resummons his Stand to THROW him even faster, trying to catch up with the two. He'll quickly move out of his Stand's effective range, and the entity will disappear. But as he nears the girls, he calls Crazy Diamond again. And while he grabs hold of the Stand, the Stand tries to grab hold of the girls. Great, now there's FOUR people falling! Well, three and a half really, since Josuke's Stand is part of him. Even if he does manage to grab them both, this whole thing is going to be quite harrowing. But it DOES give him time to call out over the wind, "Go limp! This isn't gonna be a soft landing!" And then he'll try to start redirecting the momentum into another direction instead of down. After all, that's what gets ya -- it's not the fall. It's the sudden stop at the end. Josuke's trying to make sure that momentum stops gradually enough not to kill them all instantly. Which might result in them being rolled forward like bowling balls... but any landing you can walk away from, right? 

:'''{{#var:829|Marisa Kirisame (829)}} has posed:''' OH NO, JOSUKE JUMPED ON TOO. "Damnit Jojo!" Marisa shrieks as she TRIES NOT TO DIE. "My broom is NOT calibrated for this much muscle!" THIS COULD BE BAD. Or maybe just hilarious. One of the two. 

:'''{{#var:1162|Asellus (1162)}} has posed:'''     Missile after missile slams into the Minotaur, the explosions taking out the final bat in the area of effect. Detonations ripple across the huge monster's body, creating blinding flashes of light and searing waves of heat. Leyanne's attacks strike the Minotaur's knees as it stands there shielding its head with its arms and axe, dealing serious damage that brings it down to ground level with a thunderous impact. It is thus in no condition to dodge Theurgus's attack as her ring of flame surrounds and closes in on the beastly foe, catching it on fire and sending up walls of smoke that obscure it as it howls and bellows in rage and pain.     The air smells like burning meat. Eventually, the sound subsides, leaving only the crackling of flames, the possible ringing in one's ears, and the echoes of more scattered and less frequent explosions higher up in Chateau Aiguille, indicating the disruptive monsters are being put down or re-charmed to resume their guard duties.     At least it all seems to be over now--There's a silhouette in the gradually thinning smoke. A very broad and tall silhouette. Two points of red light flare up. Then the Minotaur tears forth from the smoke, perhaps kicking away or trampling any robots in its way, its legs highly damaged, its flesh still smoldering, but still possesing the strength to launch one final offensive!     Its massive axe comes cleaving downwards at Leyanne, forcefully enough to produce a pressure wave that blasts outwards like a bomb just exploded, regardless of who (or what) it actually winds up hitting! Why Leyanne? Because it would have at least had a chance of dodging if its legs hadn't been criticalled like that! Now it's doomed, and it wants to take down at least one enemy before it goes! 

:'''{{#var:1162|Asellus (1162)}} has posed:'''     Rarity's arrows riddle (hehehe) the Sphinx's wings, piercing into its feathers and bones, and drawing a bloodcurdling half-woman/half-lion/half-bird screech of fury (AND YES THAT'S TOO MANY HALVES). Its flight slows and then its attention is stolen away by Maya unleashes a huge magic attack that tears huge chunks of the Sphinx's skin off like massive invisible cosmic hands are tearing at it. The Sphinx turns fully to face its attackers, flapping such that it hovers backwards, trying to fix its gaze on its new targets that are inflicting so much pain. And so, it is distracted when Marisa blasts her own tremendous magical attack up at it, practically shearing off half its face, dealing enormous damage to its body and right wing, and leaving a burning hole where its right eye used to be.     Its screams become even more terrible as it beats its wings frantically to try to stay upright, no longer able to tell up from down. Wind and blood lash outwards in all directions as it eventually takes off, screaming its agony and rage to the perpetual night, and flying off into the dark to endure its torments away from any further attacks. It won't be bothering them anymore.     Marisa manages to grab hold of Asellus's floofy kerchief whatsit on her outfit, White Rose still holding onto her waist, trying vainly to take the damage from the fall in the Charm 'Prince's place. Success!     The floofy neckwhatsit tears in Marisa's grip, leaving her holding a scrap of fabric. OH NO!     Then JoJo and his Stand grab hold of them both, and thanks to Marisa briefly slowing their momentum, and then Josuke grabbing hold of each of them with both his own hands and his Stand's hands, all five of them (counting Crazy Diamond) go tumbling inside of Kurenai's cave, rolling along the bridge to where the tools for crafting mystic impliments lie gathering dust, and the purple-red flames that sing with magical energy as they drift upwards slowly like a lava lamp.     White Rose doesnt even take time to check her own injuries before she is casting healing magic on Asellus, a huge golden star manifesting and raining down healing energy upon the Half-Mystic. "Starlight Heal!" White Rose intones. Then she repeats it for each of the others, if Josuke doesn't get to them first. She saves herself for last (again, unless Josuke gets to her first). Asellus awakens groggily, sitting up and shaking her head...     And then, outside Kurenai's cave, dozens of Mystics start teleporting in, with Ildon in the lead. "Return Asellus and Princess White Rose at once!" Ildon announces, his sword drawn. Uh-oh. Looks like they're trapped! 

:'''{{#var:136|Rarity (136)}} has posed:''' The wailing from the Sphinx is so terrible that it could count as an attack in itself almost. As is Rarity has to cover her ears with her forehooves (her bow is held by magic) and she's still shuddering from the aweful noise until the Sphinx finally says to hell with this and flies off. Once the noise is passed she shakes some of the dust whipped up by it's flailing about, and smiles at Maya. "Knew I made a good choice for assistance." She glances over the edge, mostly just to see where the others fell towards, and then turns and starts to hurry back down. Nothing left for them up here, that's for sure. JoJo jumped over to help the ladies, so she's got little doubt they're okay to a relative degree down there. She doesn't want to be around for something worse than a Sphinx showing up. 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne (1100)}} has posed:''' Leyanne just manages to get her Bushmaster cleared when the minotaur emerges from the smoke. She attempts to bring the gun up in time, but sadly doesn't make it, diving to one side as the axe comes down. The blade cleaves clean through the barrel of her gun, smashing the mouse aside with its shockwave. She bounces on landing, the damaged steadicam rig shearing away completely before the mouse comes to a halt in a little heap. "Ow..." She mutters, picking herself up. She takes a look at the damage to her cannon... and then at the damage to her armour and cybernetics. Her green cybernetic eye suddenly flicks to red, while the status lights on her cybernetic arm turn from red to yellow. With a snarl, the mouse launches herself at the minotaur, leaving herself wide open to counter-attack because she's just that angry that he broke her favourite gun. She swings what's left of it like a club, disconnecting the ammo feed as she swings, attempting to smash the monster's head in with the remains of the bushmaster cannon. One might almost think the minotaur had called her a rat... 

:'''{{#var:829|Marisa Kirisame (829)}} has posed:''' "AAAA, JOJO IF WE DIE I'M HAUNTING YOU," Marisa screams as the quintet hurtle into the fiery dark. Fortunately for everyone, Marisa does NOT turn into Mima 2.0 /quite/ yet. Instead of becoming the second coming of the Evil Spirit, Marisa instead earns quite a bump on the head and a groan-worthy ache in the tush. "Guhhh. You guys alright--?" She forces herself up just in time to see... Mystics. Great. "Uuuugh. Alright, we'll do it your way then. But I want a trade." Marisa sighs, scratching her head. "You give me your magic and your princesses, and I won't proper-exterminate you faux vampire jerks." Beat. "I'll take a down payment now," Marisa gestures cutely, a tiny mote of stardust twinkling away from her fingers... And toward the mystics. Then it explodes. The little sparkle blossoms into a great big gold-and-blue sphere that rapidly drains magical energies away from everything in its radius (read: those mystic jerks) and siphons it all... Right into the witch responsible. That just leaves them open for... "Josuke, punch 'em hard!" If, you know, he's not presently busy. If he is, Marisa's probably gonna look pretty silly here. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Holy shit, it's still up? Staren mentally sighs as he plans for the long game, reviewing his armory and planning out how to wear the minotaur down. He checks in with the exfiltration team on the radio. Seems it's time to go. And since everyone can hear the radio, he just starts leaving, sparing the minotaur only one last glance when Leyanne declares it hers. The catboy flies down to retrieve his fallen robot and drag it away; the rest of the squad run to the door. Once he's made it safely back to the cave, he passes the robot to them. Seems like they should be free and clear now. 

:'''{{#var:1119|Josuke Higashikata (1119)}} has posed:''' By the time he finally comes to a stop, Josuke knows what it feels like to be in a rock tumbler. Mainly because he's tumbling over rocks. When he finally stops tumbling, he emits a grunt of pain and his Stand disappears. He'll probably need healing, since he can't heal himself with Crazy Diamond, and he needs time and quiet to meditate in order to heal himself with Hamon. But no, he's not going to just lay there and do nothing. Even if he can't get to his feet just yet, he'll reach out for the first person he can touch who needs healing, whoever that may be, and try to heal them. With his Stand, because he's not sure what Hamon would do to a Mystic. Or rather, he IS (at least he thinks he is), and it's not what he wants to happen to Asellus or White Rose. Lots of heals going around. Once the heal-frenzy is over, though, he'll get to his feet. "Is everybody okay?" Though that's about all he has time to say before... "...That's just <great>." He turns to watch as the Mystics start to teleport in. Quickly he takes up position to block as many of the Mystics as possible from getting past him. To aid him he arranges Crazy Diamond next to him, so he'll have TWO shoulder-breadths blocking the way. But he's still touching his Stand; their legs are overlapping at the shins, Josuke's leg being solid and phasing through Crazy Diamond's He scowls at the command, his eyes narrowing. "If they want to come back to you, I won't stop them," Josuke states firmly. "But if they don't, I'm not letting you past." He's not going to bother with the 'over my dead body', because that's kind of a given here. And he doesn't want to give these guys any ideas. But since he is touching his Stand, he has an idea. This is going to require him to get super-close to the Mystics. Ordinarily this would be super-dumb, but hopefully Marisa's magic-drain will distract them long enough -- even if it doesn't do much damage, maybe it'll startle them long enough for him to get a few punches in. "Right!" Josuke calls in response to Marisa's words. He empties every bit of air out of his lungs, with a forceful inwards contraction of his abdominal muscles. Hold... Then draw in a deep breath of air, completely filling those lungs -- like the breath a drowning man takes after being denied air for so long... or that of a newborn infant's first gasp of breath in the world... He rushes forward, Stand keeping pace with him, his whole body suddenly sparking with crackling yellow energy, like lightning -- but for those magic-sensitive Mystics? It is pure life. It's with that pure life that the Stand attacks -- Josuke's voice, carried by that energy farther than it should normally, "SENDO!" And a heartbeat later, a barrage of Hamon-charged fists thrown by Crazy Diamond. "DORARARARARARARA!" They're NOT vampires, so it won't hurt like they were. But even still, it's a super-speed flurry of punches from a super-strong poltergeist. And even if it won't melt the flesh, the Hamon WILL still increase the damage, as well as possibly leaving behind an uncomfortable pins-and-needles sensation -- ironically, much like a sunburn. 

:'''{{#var:19|Maya (19)}} has posed:''' Maya watches as the Sphinx shuts up and flees from the powerful assault it just weathered. It ran? That ranks it as more dangerou7s than most things like that Maya has run into. It's smart enough to go I can't win, I'm running. WIth that though Maya now turns her. It seems are getting bad. "I think not." Maya has her rifle out now and the housing parts, a moment later it will fire a number of energy shots on Marissa's mark joining the assault from her allies. 

:'''{{#var:1162|Asellus (1162)}} has posed:'''     Asellus doesn't know how she got inside Kurenai's cave, but she understands their current situation when she hears Ildon's voice outside. She practically expects him to call out, 'You're completely surrounded!' like some IRPO agent. She chuckles humorlessly at her own awful luck. Her friends came for her, White Rose was willing to help her escape, they made it so far, and now this. She gets to her feet, and says, "This is it. What Zozma told me about." She turns to look at the magic flames behind her, feeling the tingle of raw magic power waiting to shape and be shaped, but controlled by a will that has transcended mortal existence. "Was the story you told me about how Rei escaped true?     White Rose looks at Asellus, her soft brown eyes tightening around the edges, her doll-like face looking more human in her pain than in her typically serene and comforting demeanor. "Yes, it's true." She understands what Asellus is asking.     Marisa and Josuke are fighting to save them. They came here, risked their lives, suffered pain and fear, for two people they barely know. But there's only one way out now. One way to save them, by removing what Orlouge is looking for. To make them no longer exist in Facinaturu to be recaptured. Asellus walks up to the edge of the platform, and looks down into the flames.     "Well, if we plunge in here.... we'll be burnt to a crisp."     * Believe Zozma        * Don't believe him     Marisa drains magic from the Mystics, denying them the resources to cast spells. Ildon catches sight of Josuke coming and manages to leap up and away with a curse, but the Mystics around him aren't so fortunate and get pummeled by the super fast and super strong punches, charged with burning life energy that hurls them backwards. They start unleashing the attacks in their mystic weapons. Flamethrower streams, acid jets, huge phantasmal claw slashes, and more, all trying to take down Josuke and Marisa.     Asellus's friends are powerful. But she doesn't want them to get hurt anymore for her.     * Believe Zozma     "I shall accompany you as well." White Rose says quietly as she steps up beside Asellus.     "White Rose... are you sure?" Asellus can't quite believe it. She has appreciated White Rose's kindness and compassion, but... The Arch-Princess would do this for her? WITH her? Not knowing what might happen?     "I have been charged by Lord Orlouge with the education of Lady Asellus." White Rose replies in a lecturing tone. "It is my duty to accompany her." Then she tilts her head and smiles.     Asellus has no words. She looks over her shoulder at Marisa and Josuke one last time. Then the two of them turn so their backs are to the fire and step up onto the ledge. White Rose takes Asellus's hand. "Thank you, White Rose."     The flames speak, their soft, female voice possibly being what finally clues Marisa and Josuke into what's happening behind them. "Be safe, White Rose... Please protect Lady Asellus."     White Rose smiles wider. "Thank you, Princess Kurenai."     Asellus can't manage to force a smile. Not even for the sake of White Rose and Marisa and Josuke. She just falls backwards into the fire, and takes White Rose with her. She begins to burn on the way down, and remembers the story of Princess Rei, Orlouge's First Princess, who committed suicide to get away from him and was reincarnated as a human.     .oO(If this doesn't work... I wonder what I'll come back as.)     She holds on tight to White Rose's hand. Then the flames making thinking impossible. 

:'''{{#var:1162|Asellus (1162)}} has posed:'''     ....     Moments later, as some horribly large shape begins to thunder its way down from Chateau Aiguille, its bulk enough to blot out the sky and make internal organs jump from the impacts of its feet, Zozma teleports in, trying to clap one hand onto Josuke's shoulder, and another onto Marisa's. "We leave NOW." he says very clearly, and then teleports away with the two of them in tow, appearing underneath Facinaturu, where the others have made it to the Region Ship after their mad flight through Rootville, hounded by the death cries of the disintegrating Minotaur, and the sound of those massive impacts as if something very large were hopping its way down to them, one leap at a time.     The caves trembled and shuddered as they ran through them, the cave ceilings drizzling dirt and stone, and threatening collapse. But they made it aboard, where the very frightened pilot is already doing his final engine checks. When the last two (where'd Zozma go?) people get aboard, he immediately floors it, sending the plane-like ship flying up into the sky and back into the sea of dimensional energies.     "Wow. That was intense." he says once they're in the clear. "I'm not coming back HERE for awhile! Did you get what you came for?"     The question may make an already sour situation feel even more so. 

:'''{{#var:1119|Josuke Higashikata (1119)}} has posed:''' Josuke hopes Asellus knows what she's doing. He stands by her, whatever it is she's doing. It's her decision, it's up to her. If she wants to take the chance, then that is her decision, and damned if Josuke's not going to defend it. He's worried that it might not work, but that voice... it's a soft and caring one. Surely it would stop Asellus if this wasn't the right way... Though at this point Josuke can only hope. Still, even if they ARE dead, isn't that a preferrable fate for both of them than just being Orlouge's plaything for all of eternity? Still... he wants to stop them, and he can't help but feel the heaviness of dread in his stomach. Though of course the next thing he feels is the slashing of a claw against Crazy Diamond's front, opening identical wounds on Josuke, underneath his clothes. Crazy Diamond crosses its arms against the fire and acid. The attacks are forcing him back... He can't go too far back, or he'll fall in the fire too! He'll die too! It's just then that Zozma teleports in, pulling Josuke's buns out of the fire -- almost literally! "Thanks," he says tiredly. It's not done yet, there's running. Whatever that beast is, he's not keen on meeting it, not when he's so spent. He's practically on autopilot as he makes it to the ship at last, and gratefully collapses in a seat when it's safely off and away. ...Did they do the right thing? Or was it all for nothing? Victory, maybe... they did get her away from Orlouge. But... what now? For a 'victory', it feels mighty hollow... 
}}

5877/One Year Passed-2

2018-06-09T04:04:19Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/06/08 |Location=Tokyo, Japan |Synopsis=The walk down someone else's memory lane continues with post-depressing park scene. |Cast of Characters..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/06/08
|Location=Tokyo, Japan
|Synopsis=The walk down someone else's memory lane continues with post-depressing park scene.
|Cast of Characters=6388, 705, 290, 707, 562, 6384, 1084
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     When last we left off, assembled Paladins were in a coffee shop warded against intrusion by average civilians. They CAN come in, but they're less likely to, and if they do, it's much harder for them to notice anything weird happening. For Elites, and non-Elite magic users, the coffee shop is plain as day. However, it is also locked up for the night, so it's a non-issue either way. No one is going to notice the elaborate illusion magic that surrounds the Paladins from the outside.     The illusion is presently on a bit of a 'pause', as people discuss what they saw, and potential new people can join in.     The picture painted of wizards so far is not a flattering one, nor, really, is Matsuri's life before joining them. A homeless, starving girl on the streets of Japan, stealing to survive because she refused to let a cloud of 'ghostlings' that engulfs her do as it has to everyone around her and rob life force from unsuspecting victims to sustain her.     She was surrounded and taken in by wizards known as 'Finders', who apparently track down and confront magic users in an intentionally threatening way to see how dangerous they are before doing something like bring them into a secure location with people not prepared to defend themselves.     The logic is... Sound. At least from the perspective of the Wizard's Association. But this isn't about what the Association thinks. This isn't even about what Matsuri thinks necessarily, though she was questioned about that by some present. This is for the people that the group known as Grave Matters will be working with to learn and determine for themselves how they feel and what they think about their new members.     For any new folks who join them, the Nerima ward in Tokyo, Japan, on this Earth is fairly typical of most versions of such, maybe with a bit more of a techy-feel to things, and a greater prevalence of magic (even if normal people are unaware of it). It is, as noted before, night, making all the lights even more vivid... And making the unnaturally deep darkness seem even deeper and colder.     In addition to all of the more familiar Paladin faces, there's a gothic-looking spidery-witch with a parasol and a shoulder-cat, a red-head in a crown and diamond-pattern dress, and a pinkish-red haired girl with a scarf and a much more subdued outfit than her two companions, if no less magically enhanced.     The coffee shop interior has been replaced with a swirling mass of lights and colors. 

:'''{{#var:705|Reiji Arisu (705)}} has posed:''' Reiji wasn't here for the last trip down somebody else's memory lane. Regrettably, being a Paladin means that you're kind of expected to go out and do Paladins-y things once in a while, and the last time, Reiji's number was up. Today, though, the exorcist has arrived in something approximating casual attire. He doesn't have his armor on, at the very least, and his usual armory is hidden in what looks like a briefcase. But, at the push of a button, concealed explosives would shed that disguise to reveal the weapons ready to go whenever a threat presents itself! He's also sipping at a cup of coffee. It's black, because long after Reiji started taking his coffee black to seem more grown up and mature, he's gotten used to the bitterness and acidity, and now can't have it any other way. He's not yet quite sure what to make of the wizarding organization, based on what he's seen and heard so far. But Matsuri specifically seems to have... impressed him, in some way. Or at least, that's what the expression he's wearing seems to suggest, even as he glances somewhat warily at the other new faces in the crowd gathering amidst the swirling colors and shapes. Who are they, exactly...? 

:'''{{#var:290|Rebecca Chambers (290)}} has posed:''' Coffee. Can't live without it. At least that's what many 9-to-5'ers will tell you. And coffee shops are great places to sit and feel comfortable. Especially in a place like this where things are truly more mysterious than usual. It's like Japan, only it's a lot more different than one might expect, especially with the presence of magic and whatnot. It seems like something out of a movie or an anime. Gives the place a surreal and somewhat spooky feel. Which is why Rebecca is glad to be inside the coffee shop instead of being outside where who knows what could happen. Sure, she's got her Beretta, her Magnum, and her MP5K, but what's to say they will work against something that might be waiting for her. She's not a user of magic, although she can sense it somehow, which seems kind of ironic in itself. For now, though, she's trying not to let her fear show. Instead, Rebecca is sitting alone sipping her coffee and reading something on her mini-tablet. It looks like an electronic book of some kind, and it seems to have Rebecca's attention. That's not to say she hasn't noticed the other Paladins here, she's just trying to ease into things. Especially considering how those strange shapes and whatnot are giving her a rather eerie feeling. After a moment, Rebecca rolls her eyes and whispers to herself, "Stay calm, Becky, you've been in worse things than this!" 

:'''{{#var:707|Xiaomu (707)}} has posed:''' By stark contrast, Xiaomu is nursing a cup of hot chocolate, because a life without hot chocolate is a sad life indeed and who cares if it's actually summer? Besides, it's her contractual obligation to be a counterweight to her partner's studied gravitas. That, and she wanted to taste this particular establishment's cocoa. She's given Reiji a run-down on what the first jaunt into Matsuri's memories entailed, and has actually provided a reasonable amount of detail ... as opposed to her executive summary, which is basically 'This world's wizards are jerks.' The ghost-wrangling trio have impressed her somewhat, even if not always in good ways; the rest of the local Wizards' Organization has quite a ways to go before they break even at this rate. And while she doesn't expect to *need* weapons, she's carrying her staff as usual, which means Suiren is on-hand, plus she's wearing her usual vest over her comparably usual qipao, so it may safely be presumed by those who know the sage fox that she's packing her accustomed firepower as well. 

:'''{{#var:562|Eryl Fairfax (562)}} has posed:'''     Eryl has taken a seat, but still holds the crystal that powers this particular mutual flashback. In his other hand, he holds a warm croissant which he takes ravenous bites out of. In between mouthfuls of pastry however, he glances at Xiaomu, not commenting on her comment.     Once his other hand is empty alongside his mouth, he speaks. "Isolation can drive any group or organization to strange ends. With no oversight, it enters a feedback loop of 'it's always been this way.' But with our mutual co-operation, we can help them handle things in a more prosocial way."     He takes a napkin and scrunches it up in the hand that held the treat, and looks to Grave Matters. "Do we continue with Miss Noriyama's story from here? Or do we change tact to Miss Tsuguhara or Miss Shinozaki?" 

:'''{{#var:6384|Orchid (6384)}} has posed:'''      Orchid has her eyes closed ad she sits in a chair. She's thinking on what she's seen... "Is there a policy for if the local baddies make a disturbance?" she asks the air, not really expecting an answer. .o(If this is their normal policy, how do they raise their children?) "Should we pitch in to contain the damage? Should we blame it on visitors from another world?" 

:'''{{#var:1084|Seras Victoria (1084)}} has posed:'''     Seras is looking a little disturbed by everything she's seen so far. It's made her quiet and thoughtful. Her normally cheery gaze has turned a bit haunted and dire from old memories of her own that have resurfaced from this delve down another's memory lane...     Now that she understands more of the nature of this memory dive, she's a bit jittery. "This feels like an invasion of privacy..." She murmurs in semi-protest to nobody in particular.     "I guess when you're dealing with dangerous magic, playing nice is a luxury on either side of anything. But... but..."     The draculina is displeased by what she's discovering. In seeral ways. But at the same time a thought reaches her.     She's now a vampire. Didn't -quite- ask for it in any traditional sense... but she did have a choice. This girl though, was born some sort of... almost-monster, unwilling to accept what she was and afraid of her strange power.     "So the little ghosts take lifeforce from people. But victims are alright as long as they don't take much...? Were they able to be brought under control? ... It's not the only thing that can get you by, right...?" Well. She can hope. 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     Matsuri shrugs in response to Eryl, then remembers he's in charge of her now and gives a more communicative answer. "I don't know. I hadn't met Ruri or Shiho back then, so if this is in chronological order, we'll have to finish mine before we move on to theirs. But this is something made by wizards and doing the expected isn't exactly what they're known for."     She looks to her companions. Shiho just shakes her head. She doesn't know either.     Ruri is stuffing her face with blueberry muffins.     Matsuri looks back to Eryl. "We'll just have to see what order Lord Faust put the memories in."     Shiho fields Orchid's question. "It is only revealing the existence of magic and teaching it to the masses that is restricted, as far as I know, though local threats are typically the rare renegade wizard, typically the ones who never received proper education and allowed their magic to alter them instead of the reverse, or else the encroachment of the dead upon the living world. Neither is public knowledge, though the latter is specifically what our squad was assembled to handle. If necessary, we have Cleansers who can purge memories and evidence of the supernatural, but the quieter we keep it, the fewer witnesses they have to deal with."     The witch pets her cat, Salem, though she pronounces it kind of like 'Seiramu' and says, "People from other worlds are understood to be 'problems from other worlds'. The Association isn't trying to deny the existence of the Multiverse. Even they know that to be impossible. But teaching magic to non-Wizards can be highly destructive, and make them targets for supernatural beings rather than giving them protection from such. As long as monsters that feed on the non-wizardly think they are unaware of them, they are content to prey slowly, like parasites. But if their target can perceive them, or worse, is revealed to know magic... They treat them as a rival predator. And non-wizards from this world don't have the spiritual defenses that wizards do against beings like that."     "Yeah, no prey easier than a human without wizardry!" Ruri pipes up helpfully. "A mundane human with magic going up against a ghost is like someone with a gun, standing in a blizzard, shooting at the snow, and wondering why they're cold! It's hilarious!"     Shiho and Matsuri turn to look at her, and Ruri starts coughing theatrically. "Or so I heard from the ghosts in the Underworld."     "Ruri's awful taste in gossip aside, we're ready to continue when you are. And thanks for joining us." Matsuri nods to Reiji and Rebecca. 

:'''{{#var:6384|Orchid (6384)}} has posed:'''      Orchid leaves her eyes closed to wince at the idea of wiping memories. "I guess we could help with a general zombie uprising," she muses as her eyes open, standing up to join the others. "And I guess I'm ready to continue." 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     Matsuri answers Seras quickly. "You're about to find out about controlling them if this goes in order of events, Miss Victoria. And I can live normally on sunlight and water, like everyone else." She says this straightfacedly, in the same near-monotone, so it's hard to tell if she's joking. But she probably is. Maybe. 

:'''{{#var:290|Rebecca Chambers (290)}} has posed:''' "I'm sorry I didn't join you sooner," Rebecca says as she finishes her coffee and puts her tablet away. "I had some issues to deal with at the time, but I'm glad I could be here." A pause. "I know I'm not exactly skilled with this kind of stuff, but I do the best I can and I feel it's my duty to help out as a Paladin." She pauses to check her weapons briefly before looking forwards again. "I'm presuming that you'd know a bit more than I do, so I'm hoping you can help me out if the need should arise." There is a pause and Rebecca looks down for a moment. During that brief moment, she begins to feel like a child. Feeling almost useless as she's trying to figure out what exactly she's doing here when she doesn't quite exactly understand what's happening here. But then that feeling slips away as Rebecca reminds herself that she's here to learn about this. Looking up again, Rebecca doesn't say anything but gives a look that says that she's definitely ready for this whole thing. 

:'''{{#var:705|Reiji Arisu (705)}} has posed:''' Reiji enjoys his cocoa too, but not on a summer night in Tokyo! Coffee needs to be hot, which is the only reason why he's drinking it the way it is now. He can handle a bit of heat. Fortunately, Xiaomu has caught him up sufficiently well enough that he can make... a modicum of sense of what's going on. "Sounds vaguely what we do back home," he remarks on the subject of keeping things under lock and key as best as possible. "We're going to probably have to reveal things sooner or later, but... As it stands, we'd like to have a plan for that going forward to avoid any potential social backlash against what's behind the veil. I can understand wanting to keep the presence of the supernatural a secret well enough, but I hope the Wizarding community understands that it's only a matter of time, now. Few plans, conspiracies and cover-ups ever survive the multiverse." He takes another sip of his coffee, then. "Don't worry about it. I wanted to come," Reiji answers Matsuri with a nod, then looks back toward Shiho. "You said that people with magical ability are not necessarily Wizards? Does being a Wizard imply mastery over the magic one possesses, or is there a more specific definition? Are there specific spiritual defenses that are necessary for foreigners with magical potential to travel safely within this world?" 

:'''{{#var:562|Eryl Fairfax (562)}} has posed:'''     Now that he's done eating, Eryl holds up the crystal again, extending his other hand out so that the illusion can be expanded to all. "This time, we seem to be in a magical library, with two people present. Sound off if anything you see conflicts with this."     As the memories from the crystal swell to cover everyone, what Eryl sees becomes what everyone sees. It hits all the senses at the same time, the scent of mahogany filling the nose, the sound of silver baubles whistling through the air overhead. Full immersion, meaning the sudden jump from coffee shop to mystical archive might be a little vertigo-inducing.     There are two individuals present. One is evidently a younger Matsuri. She certainly looks much neater than she did in the last vision. Hair no longer unkempt and tangled, now wearing a white uniform. But she still doesn't look as old as the present-day version. She's sitting before a mahogany desk, across from a man with long black hair and silver-rimmed spectacles. 

:'''{{#var:1084|Seras Victoria (1084)}} has posed:'''     "..... Riiiiiiiight." Seras wasn't expecting a smart-assed answer to that, so it sours her mood a little. Well, she can still hope!     The police girl's mood does improve when Ruri chimes in on the conversation! But... only for her to join the others in staring at her method of describing the problem.     "It's quite a mess where I'm from. The Multiverse made concealing the supernatural completely impossible. Downright unnecessary. But I think there's more of it here than where I'm from! Hellsing is mostly about stopping vampires and the undead, but we'll deal with anything that needs to be dealt with. We're only deployed when it's time to search and destroy though! NOt... diplomacy and negotiations. Everyone treats the supernatural as one big problem that usually needs to be exterminated! ... not quite how we go about it now, though." The last bit's added quippily! Yeah, of course, they're not going to murder wizards just for being wizards. Sheesh. 

:'''{{#var:707|Xiaomu (707)}} has posed:''' Xiaomu finishes her hot chocolate as she sees Eryl readying the crystal. "Library, huh ... too bad we can't browse around for the manga section," she jokes. Not that a bunch of stuffy old wizards are likely to have even one shelf of manga in their official library, let alone a whole section. Or maybe they will. Wizards get bored and need a break too, right? ... well, she can ask later, or something. The sensory tide of the memory dragging them all in is a good distraction from lesser concerns - and as before, Xiaomu is genuinely curious about what they'll see. Matsuri is pretty recognizable, as before, and other circumstances aside, the sage fox thinks the redhead seems healthier, if not happier. It's the bespectacled man who is the real focus of Xiaomu's attention to start with ... 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     "You're not from this world, so even if you don't know magic, you should be fine, both defending yourself and fighting back, Miss." Shiho replies to Rebecca.     To Reiji's questions, she says, "Wizards are, according to some at least, a separate race from the rest of humanity. Though we are genetically compatible, there are differences on the spiritual level beyond being naturally attuned to magic, such that we develop powers with or without training. Some of those changes provide us a natural defense against spiritual attacks such as various monsters employ. Ghosts, Monster Cats, Vampires, and things like that. I do not know of any testing that has been done on those from other worlds, but at least as far as I can tell, everyone here has a strong spirit and is well-defended. The people you passed on the street to get here had no defense whatsoever."     She holds up a finger in full teacher-mode, but Matsuri interrupts, earning an annoyed look. "The training part, the instruction in using magic, can technically be provided to any random person off the street. But a magic user from our world who isn't a wizard has far fewer defensive options. A wizard without a protection circle can not simply be slain outright by some otherworldly soul-collector. A non-wizard magic user needs that circle and probably wards against mental influence and a whole lot of other things, and any mistake can cost them their life. That's why demon summoning has such a reputation for being dangerous. For non-wizards, they're gambling their life and possibly more than that on the belief that they have the right knowledge AND used it in the exact right way, flawlessly."     Ruri double-thumbsup to Seras, then directs one thumb each to Reiji and Rebecca. "Appreciated! And we'll help out as Paladins too!"     Once everyone is synched up, the illusion resumes as-described by Eryl. Matsuri, Shiho, and Ruri all breathe in deeply when the transition occurs, almost simultaneously. The smell in the room just triggers that response, apparently, and they try to catch more of the scent without even thinking about it.     The black-haired man across the desk from Matsuri asks, "Do you know why you're here, Noriyama?"     Matsuri looks far more timid than her current self. She keeps her eyes down as she sits hunched over in her chair, hands in her lap. She is still rather gaunt-looking, especially around her eyes, but she's not on the brink of passing out anymore, so she has presumably been fed. She doesn't answer immediately, perhaps not sure if she's supposed to. After a period of time, she glances up, sees the man watching her expectantly, and then looks back down. She shakes her head minutely.     "I am Metanoia Faust." the man is distinctly not-Japanese even in a Japan where people have Main Character Hair Colors to denote their importance. Maybe European. His name sure as heck isn't Japanese.     "I am an overseer for an organization that takes in, provides for, and educates those with a certain gift. A gift that comes with a responsibility." the man says. 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     Matsuri is looking from side to side, and occasionally up at Faust, not really sure how to respond. Eventually she asks, "What responsibility?"     Faust smiles gently. "You didn't need to ask what I meant by 'gift'. You realize already that you're different." He stands up slowly from his chair and asks, "Would you like some hot chocolate? Coffee perhaps?"     Matsuri hesitates, and then answers, "Cocoa please."     Faust inclines his head, still smiling, and then heads over to an elaborate silver contraption on a table near the wall-to-wall book shelves. He passes a hand in front of it, and a ceramic mug appears, and the device starts conjuring steaming hot chocolate into it, apparently from the aether.     "What responsibility, Mister... F.. Faosuto?" Matsuri presses, aware she didn't get a reply.     Faust returns with the mug, walks to Matsuri's side of the desk and says, "Ah. You don't let go of that which draws your curiosity when you latch onto it. Good, good." He hands over the mug, and waits until the younger Matsuri takes it before returning to his chair and sitting back down. He steeples his fingers in front of his face, his eye lids sinking a bit beneath his glasses. "Our responsibility, is to keep those with our gift from killing people, to keep those without our gift from killing us, and to keep anyone from endangering this world."     Matsuri was in the middle of blowing on her hot chocolate to cool it, but at that mission statement, she freezes in the middle of doing so, lips pursed, eyes wide, looking rather comical.     Faust starts to chuckle a little but puts a hand to her his mouth to conceal it as he turns his head away slightly and masks the laugh with a cough. "Maybe I should start a bit slower." When he looks back to Matsuri, he's the kind, smiling teacher-figure again. The headmaster who looks on fondly as his students learn. He radiates an aura of 'I'm watching over you.' It might be sorcerous in nature or genuine, but either way, Matsuri relaxes a little bit.     "Tell me, Miss Noriyama: Do you believe in magic?" 

:'''{{#var:6384|Orchid (6384)}} has posed:'''      Orchid slides over to Rebecca. "To be honest, I don't understand this magic stuff either," she says to the other woman. "That's why I came, to get some exposure to the ideas involved. Well, and the whole 'know your allies' business, which is making more sense now than it did before."      Another wave of magical energy, and Orchid finds herself in another memory, this time with an apparent time-skip. She pulls out two of her spiders again, to get more cameras on the scene. She sends one into position to get a better look at the man in the memory, and the other goes to look at Matsuri's face.      "My own world's messes are too big to just hide, and hope people don't notice. Or maybe just too noisy to hide," Orchid notes in response to Seras's comments.      Aaand Orchid might be keeping an eye out for the Manga section. But at Shiho's explanation... "So robots do have souls," she says with something of a smug grin.      Ah, the main story! It's interesting that Faust seems to put their mission in the context of protection, first and foremost. Would Dr. Light agree? Maybe, but Orchid thinks protection is the proper use of power. 

:'''{{#var:290|Rebecca Chambers (290)}} has posed:''' Usually, Rebecca is pretty strict about how people address her. Usually she'll tell them, "The name is Rebecca Chambers, but that's Officer Chambers to you!" However, in a situation like this, Rebecca's not too strict about formality. "Just Rebecca is fine," She says to Shiho with a slight smile forming on her face as she starts to feel a little more confident about things. When Orchid slides to Rebecca, the medic nods a little. "I can understand where you're coming from there." Just then, Rebecca finds herself going from being in a coffee shop to something else all of a sudden. And indeed it does induce a little vertigo on the medic's part. She closes her eyes and places her thumbs atop her temples, gently rubbing. "Easy there, Rebecca, just take it easy." Apparently it's some kind of self-massage technique that helps reduce vertigo. It seems to work as after a moment, Rebecca opens her eyes again. Based on what Rebecca is seeing, they're in the past, and Rebecca can't help but stifle a chuckle as she thinks about the times she's wanted to go back in time and change things, but her demeanor returns to serious again. She attempts to listen in closely on the conversation between Matsuri and Faust while pulling out her mini-tablet again, albeit to record the conversation. 

:'''{{#var:562|Eryl Fairfax (562)}} has posed:'''     Eryl wordlessly catalogues Mister Faust into his internal memory, his implants racing with his grey matter to form the appropriate connections. He's quiet as he speaks with the past Matsuri, but seems to be nodding at the method of approach.     "An important lesson," he says out loud, grabbing as much attention as he can. "Disparaging comments have been made thus far, but it is easy to forget that a forest is made of many trees. The organizations methods may clash with the Paladin's, but as long as individuals like Mister Faust here remain, there is hope." 

:'''{{#var:705|Reiji Arisu (705)}} has posed:'''     "It may be worthwhile for us to send an official representative from Shinra over then," Reiji says after thinking for a moment. His gaze flickers over toward his partner at that. "It sounds like they could potentially use a hand with providing some of the wards and so on that they need. We specialize in that sort of thing, you see. The Shinra Organization has been protecting our version of Japan from similar issues for quite some time." At least the girls seem eager. Reiji follows along with the mileu playing out in front of him, even as a ~robe and wizard hat~ settle over his usual, monochromatic attire. He nudges up a pair of glasses that weren't there a moment ago and nods at Eryl's observation. "Indeed. It seems to be a case of well-intentioned individuals in an organization too old and too large to prune its own bad habits. But..." Well. They say that you can tell a lot about a man by looking at his bookshelf. Reiji steps away from the group for a moment to peek through what tomes might have been arrayed for use, looking every bit like some kind of overworked archivist. 

:'''{{#var:707|Xiaomu (707)}} has posed:''' Xiaomu tries not to inhale *too* deeply of the room's scent, but she breathes in enough to make a conscious effort at attempting to identify it, perhaps 'analyze' is a good word. More than just the smell, though, she's aware of the illusion wrapping around *her*, cloaking her in 'belonging' - a layer of camouflage, so to speak, so that she won't draw extra attention. An exertion of her will and an application of her own spirit-fox powers, and that camouflage is tweaked - replacing the 'standard issue' robes with an outfit that's more familiar to Xiaomu, sorcerous robes of a more fantasy-oriented style settling around her. She still has her staff, though ... and as she keeps an ear perked at the memory's Metanoia and Matsuri, she starts looking over the shelves more closely, like somebody who's trying to find a particular book. She's not trying to find manga hiding among the grimoires. Sure, she's tempted *to* look for them, but she's actively reading the shelves - trying to get a feel for what kinds of tomes the Association has, out where an apprentice *might* attempt to indulge her (or his) curiosity. 

:'''{{#var:1084|Seras Victoria (1084)}} has posed:'''     Oh, lovely. Now it's one of THESE talks. Seras has vivid memories of being seated across a desk like that. And most of them aren't the greatest of moments! Old, old events from childhood that will plague her for a great long time.     But, for now, at least, these memories seem like... a drastic improvement for poor Matsuri! Seras's stance straightens a little, expression brightening with a mix of curiosity and hope that she'll get a good answer to the questions bubbling up so far!     "Well. He seems like a respectable sort." She comments in that hopeful tone! 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     The volumes on the shelf are surprisingly diverse. Moby Dick, the Bible, The Illiad & The Odyssey, The Socratic dialogues, Disjunctions And Permutations: Arcane Nullification Through Applied Causal Manipulation, a black book bound tight with chains and padlocks and sealing talismans, Encylopedia Demoniac, the collected chapters of the popular space opera magical girl manga Star Wards's fourth Volume, 'A New Hope Is Born'...     You know. Wizard Headmaster stuff.     Matsuri pauses in her cocoa-cooling, and looks down into the steaming brown beverage at Faust's question. Looking at the distorted reflection of her eye in her drink, she answers, "I believe... In curses."     Faust doesn't react immediately, so Matsuri continues. "I believe that I've been cursed... Since the day I was born. Not a single good thing... Has ever happened to me. You say I have a 'gift'. But it's actually a curse, isn't it?"     She looks up expectantly.     Present-Matsuri looks like she's struggling with something. Like she wants to go to her past self or say something. But she's not supposed to interfere, or become emotionally involved. It could distort the illusion.     Faust's features relax, one eyebrow rising, as he smiles. "Not a single thing? But you're here, warm, clean, and safe, having hot cocoa with me, aren't you?"     Past-Matsuri looks up at Faust tiredly, and then back down to her cocoa. She smiles just a little bit. "I guess so, Mister Fausto." She blows on her cocoa again, and the steam seems to gain more whiteness, and separate into little balls. Quirky-looking tiny ghosts, like marshmallows with arms and faces, go wobbling up out of the chocolate and flying around the room.     Matsuri looks scared suddenly, her eyes wide as she looks to Faust, but before she can do anything reckless with her drink, he puts his hands over hers. The ghostlings bounce off of him harmlessly.     He looks calmly and pleasantly at her, and says, "You can't hurt anyone here by accident. And I want to teach you to control these spirits so that you can live among non-wizards too."     Matsuri asks, "I'm a... wizard?"     Faust nods as he lets go of Matsuri's hands and gestures around the room. In a wash of crackling eletricity, each of the Paladins becomes 'visible' to the Past-Matsuri as the overseer indicates all of them. "Yes. So am I. And so are these fine people, who will be your teachers. You are among your own kind now... Matsuri."     Past-Matsuri looks around at everyone, SEEING all these Elites in wizard-illusion guise for the first time.     Metanoia Faust says, "Welcome home."     Past-Matsuri turns to look at him, her eyes welling with tears, and then she tries to hug the older wizard while crying in relief.     Faust carefully extricates the mug swarming with ghostlings and sets it on his desk before it spills, and then returns the hug.     Present Matsuri is red-faced and trying to avoid looking at the moment of defenselessness. "He really had to linger on this, huh?" 

:'''{{#var:6384|Orchid (6384)}} has posed:'''      So Orchid looks human now. More so, like a specific human, but not one she's ever seen. But she's not paying much attention to that. The story in front of her, that's what matters more. She looks over at Matsuri, considering. "It seems," she says, pausing to look at the tiny marshmallow ghosts in the cocoa. "It seems he wants to show us you at your weakest, so we know how you will react." She pauses, and steps over to the Headmaster. "Excuse me sir, where can I find the file on our new student?" she asks politely. 

:'''{{#var:562|Eryl Fairfax (562)}} has posed:'''     It's funny.     As it gets to the bit where Past Matsuri begins to break down, something that is clearly getting to Present Matsuri... the illusion vanishes.     The cause is immediately apparent. The crystal has tumbled from Eryl's grip, landing on the coffee table in reality. He looks around, a sheepish expression on his face.     "My fingers slipped. Might need to get that calibrated," he says, pointedly not looking at Matsuri. 
}}

5866/One Year Passed-1

2018-06-08T23:47:22Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/05/26 |Location=Tokyo, Japan |Synopsis=The Paladins get an unpleasantly personal introduction to one of their new members through the magic of..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/05/26
|Location=Tokyo, Japan
|Synopsis=The Paladins get an unpleasantly personal introduction to one of their new members through the magic of... Magic.
|Cast of Characters=6388, 6384, 707, 1139, 562, 1084
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     The Nerima ward of Tokyo, Japan. It's night, and the view from the Warp Gate arrival point is pretty great. The people of this world took the existence of the Multiverse in relative stride. The same general sort of panic and culture shock as one might expect, the predictable chaos and crazies, the self-serving people who immediately tried to use this for their own ends, and those who saw control of their lives slipping away along with their old perception of reality trying to close their borders and shut things down to regain that control.     That's humans for you.     But while they acknowledge that the Multiverse exists, and that there are strange things out there now, they remain 'out there'. Aside from those who don't fully grasp the nature of their situation, that they are part of the Multiverse, not adjacent to it in some fashion, there are still people who, in true Earthling tradition, see that all as someone else's problem. They shut their eyes and ears, and go about their lives, and only get agitated when they're expecting to contribute to resolving the problems of people they don't see as their responsibility.     It sucks, but it's also kept anyone from doing something stupid like trying to declare war.     Whatever faults humans have, those of this world, and more specifically of Japan, are for whatever reason accustomed to trying to shut out weirdness and go about their lives. The Wizard Association, a secret cabal of magic users in a world that does not know about or believe in magic, reached out to the Paladins after three of their number enlisted.     They stand here now, waiting for the Paladins agents to step through the naturally formed Warp Gate near a three-story blocky building with a security gate and one of those little guard booths that let cars through. A cat in a musketeer hat is painted in red and white on the building, along with the words, 'Toei Animation Co. Ltd.'     Ruri is a red-brown-haired girl in a tan school uniform ooohing and aaahing at the Ohizumi Studio building, never having seen where real anime are made before. Matsuri is wearing a dark blue uniform, her ultra-long red-pink hair down to her ankles. She looks grumpy. Shiho is a gray-haired young woman wearing a sensible black business dress that makes her look far more mature than her actual age. She is smiling, hands folded, a black cat with orange stripees draped over her shoulder. 

:'''{{#var:6384|Orchid (6384)}} has posed:'''      The face isn't quite right, but that's what broad hats are for. Orchid has replaced her usual armor with a fabric dress of similar colors, left her dash boots behind, and is carrying one of her bracers in a bag slung over one sholder. Anyone who looked too closely at her might experince the uncanny valley, but if the brief for this is anything close to right, a reploid from another world is one of the less strange things to happen today.      So the new Paladin exits the portal, looking around, gathering the basic lay of the land, comparing it to the maps she looked up before coming. 

:'''{{#var:707|Xiaomu (707)}} has posed:''' Xiaomu's already had a chance to meet (and internally facepalm at) the Grave Matters trio in the line of duty, but she doesn't really know their background yet, outside of the introductory video. So the chance to find out more about them - and more about an Earth which actually has contact with the supernatural, and tries to keep that under wraps - much as Shinra does in Xiaomu's home instance of Tokyo - is enough to get her to come out and take a look. Fortunately, her lightcycle passes for something resembling a street-legal motorcycle while she's navigating the streets ... and when the traffic gets too dense for convenient maneuvering, she can just de-rez the thing into baton form and continue on her way pedestrian-style. She isn't going out of her way to disguise herself, although she's outfitted in a sleek biker suit instead of her usual qipao + vest ensemble (which is, let's face it, *hugely impractical* on a motorcycle); when she's riding, she has a helmet on (it's the law, right?) which helps cover her vulpine ears and tail. And when she's walking, without the helmet ... well, it's not impossible to mistake them for a somewhat peculiar hairstyle. The sight of the Toei Animation sign brings a wide, wide grin to the sage fox's face, and she pulls out her smartphone long enough to snap a photo of the cat+sign mural. A second photo is taken of Ruri, Matsuri, and Shiho, just for good measure, before Xiaomu strolls on up to the three girls. "Hey, you three!" she greets them. "How've things been going? And this is where you work, huh? ... or is 'intern' a better word for it?" 

:'''{{#var:1139|All-Seeing Eye (1139)}} has posed:'''      This is a world with a strong supernatural undercurrent that goes unnoticed by the general public--perhaps by intention, if the missive sent to the paladins by the Wizard Association is to be believed. Subtlety was asked for, and subtlety they shall have. At least, with regards to the supernatural. There will be no outward displays of Exalted might.      But Exalted taste? That's another story. First impressions are everything, after all.      The Warden arrives dressed for a night on the town, dressed in a loose-fitting white trenchcoat with a leopard-print silk shirt and matching white slacks, rounded off with custom-made leopard-print canvas tennis shoes. As he wants to pass for human so as not to startle onlookers, his cybernetic augmentations are hidden, and he looks like a particularly ostentatious foreigner with long black hair rather than a shock-white porcelain doll.      He flips that hair of his over a shoulder, fixing the welcoming party with an expectant, satisfied smile. His identification is produced, a flick of the wrist showing a badge which names him as All-Seeing Eye, Warden of the Paladins and head of Public Security. He sees the building without necessarily looking at it, keeping his golden eyes upon the three young recruits. On the radio, they each gave differing opinions of what he should wear.      "I didn't have any monster skin," he says nonchalantly. "But I'd been dying to wear this." He snaps the collar of his silk shirt. "I think it complements my eyes, don't you?" 

:'''{{#var:562|Eryl Fairfax (562)}} has posed:'''     Eryl strides through the warpgate, having ditched the usual cloak he normally wears, while adding a pair of dark sunglasses. Now, with his plain suit and blue tie, he just looks like a foreign businessman or some kind of bodyguard. Probably best not to be cutting the usual Grandmaster profile when meeting a bunch of young girls in a supposedly mundane world.     He regards the three before him, the members of 'Grave Matters.' They certainly seem a motley trio. Right away, Original Face has paired their faces with their as-of-yet small Paladin profiles. "Miss Noriyama, Miss Tsuguhara, Miss Shinozaki. Thank you for meeting us," he says formally, offering a hand to all three to shake.     He also looks around at everyone else that has shown up, and how they have chosen to dress. Even compared to Orchid, he probably stands out the most here now, simply by being so plain in appearance. Scratching the back of his head, he asks, "Do we have anywhere more private to talk?" 

:'''{{#var:1084|Seras Victoria (1084)}} has posed:'''     At the prospect of helping yet another world where things go bump in the night and people don't want to deal with it publically... Seras is obligated to go take a looksie!     And so, she steps through the warp gate, dressed in her yellow Hellsing Organization uniform with the Paladins patch stitched onto the sleeve.     Given that it's NIGHT TIME, Seras is actually looking to be in a bright and chipper mood, without any of the stubborn forced-through grogginess she's displayed from time to time earlier! A happy smile, eyes wide with curiosity, mouth shaping into an 'o' of wonder as she glances about the VERY unfamiliar cityscape...     She's never BEEN to Japan, and it's HECKA DIFFERENT from the streets of London.     "Oooooh! Brilliant place for a warp gate to appear!" But given she has her childish aspects, the anime advertisements are bringing back some memories of watching old animated musicals and other things.     She is not visibly armed, but she's probably packing a concealed pistol.     And once she spots Eryl, Seras falls into step with him. She cannot help but boggle at the Grave Matters girls' attire though! And Eye, for that matter. 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     The Warp Gate has had a building constructed around it to make it look sort of like a subway entrance crossed with a rooftop exit. It manifested in mid-air, so there's a platform with a cyan backlit escalator along with ramps and an underground garage for vehicles. The initial view is of a sprawling, but organized city full of light. But the dark around it seems... Deeper than is natural.     Getting to the meeting place is simple, on foot, by vehicle, or anything inbetween, and should take 30 seconds tops just riding the escalator down. There are helpful guides for Multiversal 'gaijin' (foreigners) in huge stacks and stands that include maps, welcomes in various languages, a run down of local regulations and suggestions of sight-seeing locations after they have been to the police station or other official building if this is their first time here and have no valid I.D. and so on.     They have sort have been forced to accept the I.D. of the Commonwealth, including the Paladins, as well as the Concord, as valid, so no need for that.     Matsuri looks dully at Xiaomu when she arrives. "Whoever said we worked here? You realize that as far as everyone else knows, we're just normal teenagers, right?" Ruri asks, "Can we work here?" Matsuri answers without hesitation, "No." "Aww." Shiho puts a pale hand to her cheek. "Oh my, Miss Xiaomu. Do I really look old enough to work at a studio like this?"     Ruri sidles up to All-Seeing Eye when he arrives and starts dramatically flipping his hair, stars in her eyes. "Wow, yeah! You're like... Totally just... Uwaaaah! And all... Fwoooosh! And kinda... Zaaaaa! You're totally a <<Calvin Klein>>!"     Matsuri and Shiho stare at their hyperactive princess and think, .oO(At least decide which of those he is.     Each of the three girls bow to Eryl and take turns shaking his hand when greeted. "Nice to meet you, Mister Fairfax." 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     Matsuri straightens up, hand raised and answers, "Ah. Actually, that's where we're headed next. It's not far from here, so that's why I suggested this portal. If you'll follow me?" It's not really a suggestion, nor an order, but she isn't waiting for anyone to agree with her before setting off. There are plenty of people staring, though, being Japanese, they try not to be rude about it. But there's always a few who will stop to take pictures. Pictures that are probably going to get erased later, along with the memories of seeing them with three Totally Normal Schoolgirls With Main Character Hair.     Shiho asks of Seras, "Where do they normally appear, if not across the street from animation studios? Do any of them appear in terrifying places full of monsters? A <<zombie apocalypse>>, perhaps?" Shiho seems a bit too eager as she presses for more information about more awful places for a warp gate to appear until they reach a coffee shop.     Matsuri lets them in with an employee key, and once they're inside there's an immediate sensation of enclosure. This place is sealed off somehow. Perhaps warded.     It's a spacious, warm and cozy place. Not too fancy by Japanese standards, but it looks pretty high-class next to the local WcRonald's.     Matsuri turns and asks, "Lord Fairfax, did you bring the memory crystal?" 

:'''{{#var:6384|Orchid (6384)}} has posed:'''      "So this is your Tokyo..." Orchid muses as she walks up to the trio of mages. Looks reasonable enough, if rather quaint. The biker gets a nod, as does the police officer with the grandmaster. She still has yet to meet a lot of these people in person. As for the Eye... "The colors work, but it's rather loud," she evaluates. "You'll get some second glances, but if that's what you want, it works."      She nods as their hosts explain things, and follows inside the building. "This will be, I think, my first personal experience with, well," she omits the word magic. "This nature of phenonoma." 

:'''{{#var:562|Eryl Fairfax (562)}} has posed:'''     No need to be so formal, especially when we're trying to keep a low profile. Just 'Eryl' is perfectly fine," he says in reponse to the polite greetings he gets. Privately, he's happy that they can be serious when needed. Considering this world's attitude towards the Multiverse, he had concerns as to why these three were being assigned to the Paladins from the blue.     "Ah, excellent," he says in response to Matsuri, striding after her into the nondescript building. He's immediately aware as to how muffled outside becomes once across the threshold. "A Wizard's Association hideout, I assume. Does the 'exclusive coffee shop' facade not draw a lot of attention? Or is that part of the warding you have set up?"     As soon as he is asked about the memory crystal, his hand dips into an internal coat pocket and emerges clutching it. "Of course. You'll forgive me if I perused the earliest bits, I hope. Had to make sure there was nothing untoward contained within." 

:'''{{#var:1084|Seras Victoria (1084)}} has posed:'''     "A-actually, yes." Seras answers as soon as the door is closeod, taken a bit by surprise by the question. "... At least sometimes! Hopefully not often." VERY hopefully not often, if the depressed, and then somewhat angry look Seras gives the nearest wall is any indication!     She looks around the room, beginning to explore and look for seating! "Wow.. all of this is protected with some kind of magic? I feel.... strange, here." 

:'''{{#var:1139|All-Seeing Eye (1139)}} has posed:'''      Ruri's fawning is possibly the worst thing one could do--encourage him. The Exalt's lips curl into a smug smile, and he strikes a pose for her. "Always a pleasure to meet a fan," says Eye. "After this little soiree, I'll set you up with a poster and one of my albums. You'll just love it!" He wrinkles his nose playfully at her, gently patting her shoulder to emphasize the word 'love.' When the girls set off, he's quick to follow, beaming as his vision allows him to take in the sensory overload all at once. He looks quite at home here, actually.      "Oh, that's /never/ a bad thing," says the Exalt in response to Orchid's assessment. He more or less stays with the group--except for when others take pictures of him. In those instances, he throws up V-signs, and even breaks off from the group to assist curious souls in capturing his best angles, or to take selfies with them.      Tall as he is, it's just a matter of a few strides to catch back up to the group. He allows Seras to answer Shiho's question first, then offers his own input on the question. "Not to mention thick jungles as packed with vegetation as they are cannibals, deadly insects, and predatious wildlife." He giggles. "Quite a challenge to settle!"      Once inside and thus closed off from the rest of the world, he indulges in a demure yawn, and offers another response to Orchid. "It's my first experience with a world so... ignorant of it. One might even say willfully so. Is there a reason for that, dears?" He places a finger upon his chin and turns his head towards their three hosts. 

:'''{{#var:707|Xiaomu (707)}} has posed:''' Xiaomu shrugs gamely at Matsuri, "It's getting harder and harder to tell, sometimes. Mortals keep measuring 'adulthood' differently to start with, and there's this one girl I heard about who got hired by a game company straight out of high school, *no* college education yet. Wouldn't surprise me if they *were* hiring animators out of high school, too, these days ..." She falls into step with the rest of the group, casually shouldering her monk's staff along the way; she seems utterly unruffled about having her photo taken, although given the foxgirl's penchant for cosplay (and even her riding suit might be a costume of some kind), she could well be *that* used to it. Before long, they reach their destination - a heavily warded coffee shop, to the extent that Xiaomu's ears twitch at the sudden 'enclosed' sensation. "You take your security really seriously, don't you," the sage fox remarks; her tone is noticeably less carefree than when they were out in the parking lot. But that doesn't stop her from taking a seat somewhere, glancing over the menu ... 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     Matsuri shrugs. "Fair enough, Miss Spirit Fox. People question wizards as young as us, so I guess I'm used to being doubted."     "<<Rock and Roll!>>" Ruri answers, giving an excited double thumbsup to All-Seeing Eye.     "How dreadful!" Shiho says in response to both Seras and All-Seeing Eye. She seems delighted by the prospect.     The gray-haired girl does remark to Orchid and Seras, "Not to worry. This is protective magic. It keeps the uninitiated out for the most part. Those that come in don't see anything odd unless someone goes out of their way to draw attention. They make their own excuses up here~." She tap taps her head.     Sure, Eryl. Our former supervisor told us to call you 'Lord', so I figured I'd do that until I knew what your preferred title was. But if that's simple I'll just relax about it." She stretches her arms over her head, and then swings one down, a black rod manifesting in it. She spins it and goes through a magical girl transformation sequence, swapping one outfit for another. Scarf, purple sweatshirt, striped skirt. Not a huge change, and decidedly more discrete than some magical girl uniforms.     Ruri's transformtion (delayed by her squealing and hopping and excitement about this 'poster' and 'album' whatever those are) puts her in a much more drastic outfit, with a crown, red and black diamond pattern sleeveless dress, and her eyes change color from an unremarkable brown to red with a white crucifix in the pupil of her right eye, to a pupilless pure-red in the left. Shiho obtains a black and orange parasol, and a spidery, witchy, gothic lolita outfit, with high boots.     No point trying to look normal in here, right?     Shiho volunteers, "The wards are not our work, but it was established by the Wizard's Association. Dear Matsuri works here part-time. Wizards gather here both for relaxation and sharing information, as well as hiring 'trouble shooters' of sorts."     Matsuri's eyes tighten a bit as her gaze drops to inspect some trashbin in a corner at Eryl's question. "Yeah, fine. Let's get it over with, if you don't mind. It only covers the events of a year ago, leading up to me securing my Wizard's Endorsement so I could begin working as an official mage. I guess Lord Faust didn't think it was necessary to go any further back." She takes in a deep breath, lifts her arms a bit and then drops them down to her sides. "I'm not supposed to get emotionally involved. It can destabilize the illusion. Once you're in, it should conform to your presence. I'll answer questions if you have them, but if I'm not allowed to tell you where to go or what to do. It could be seen as me trying to influence the investigation... Or to hide things I'd rather not be seen. No matter what happens, I can't get involved."     Then she holds out her hand, palm up. "When you're ready, begin. I'll broaden the illusion to include all of us." 

:'''{{#var:6384|Orchid (6384)}} has posed:'''      Orchid would eyeroll at the All-Seeing Eye's haming it up for the camera, but in a way she approves. Oh, she hasn't noticed the whole 'warded bit' that Shiho mentions. "My own world has a bit more... excitement, than this one seems to," she comments. "Which, I'll admit, is part of why I want to explore the multiverse." She sets aside her bag and hat, and pulls a pair of robot spiders out of a pocket. "I think I'm ready." 

:'''{{#var:562|Eryl Fairfax (562)}} has posed:'''     Even if it's all magical, Eryl still looks away when the girls swap out their outfits. It's just not good breeding to watch as someone changes clothes after all. He smiles at Shiho and nods in thanks for her explanation, but it's Matsuri that has most of his attention right now. The tightening of her eyes, the resignation of her voice, refusing to make eye contact. He also recalls her tone when the crystal came up over the radio.     Eryl's eyes go from her hand to the crystal, and he takes a long moment to consider things before he duly activates it. His clear eyes go blank, looking at something miles away, before he speaks. "When this activates, you should experience thick fog. You should also see Miss Noriyama, one year younger, standing by a lamp post. If you see this, sound off. Once we know that everyone is experiencing things properly, we will begin."     He then reaches out, and takes the offered hand. 

:'''{{#var:1139|All-Seeing Eye (1139)}} has posed:'''      Having never seen something like a magical girl's transformation sequence, he's a bit distracted when Matsuri mentions the matter of the crystal. "Hm?" Though his eyes were on her as a matter of courtesy, his attention was focused off to the side, on Ruri's loud, bombastic outfit. Even taken alongside Shiho's, which is by no means subtle on its own, Ruri's is quite bold. He can appreciate someone with an outspoken sense of style!      "Yes," he says almost absently. "I'm ready." He idly twirls his braided hair, toying with it until the memory crystal activates. As mentioned, he finds himself in the midst of a thick fog, and there, standing beside the aforementioned lamppost, is the aforementioned young mage.      "Warden Eye, receiving memory footage." 

:'''{{#var:707|Xiaomu (707)}} has posed:''' Oh hey, transformation sequences! Xiaomu looks openly relieved at the sight of the magical girl 'uniforms,' for some reason; she's about ready to shapeshift out of her riding suit and into something more accustomed and comfortable ... ... Oh. It's just for that memory viewing thing? Unlike your typical magical girl, Xiaomu has to exert some power no matter which outfits she's shifting between, or in which direction. She remains clothed as she is rather than making with the shapeshifting, and just centers herself, getting a little more comfortable in her seat. "So we just watch, explore within reason, ask questions if we have them. This'll be interesting ..." She trails off briefly as Eryl sets the memory-sharing in motion, and now she *does* shapeshift, switching back to her accustomed black qipao and red vest (which also means she has all her weapons handy, just in case she needs them). "Chevalier Xiaomu," she actually gets her rank right, "reading five by five." 

:'''{{#var:1084|Seras Victoria (1084)}} has posed:'''     Shiho's clear enthusiasm has Seras giving her a HARD, DISAPPROVING STARE. Which mostly looks like the sort of glare a soggy kitten might give its owner - largely ineffectual for lack of ferocity! "They're MOST unpleasant." She exclaims QUITE firmly.     VERY FIRMLY.     She is, however, attreacted to the overt displays of MAGIC. Transformations get a wide-eyed look caught between amazement and simple 'WHY is that necessary?'     All that aside though, she nods to Matsuri's explanation, and timidly reaches out with her own hand to join the endeavor.     "Never been in anything like this... but... ready!" For... whatever. She really isn't sure what this memory-journey's going to be like, or what it's really about yet! 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     There's a buzzing and filtering of voices, snips of phrases, words half-heard, until everyone is in. When Matsuri expands the illusion, it replaces the coffee shop and the world around them with something more than an image of the past. It's like they're really there, as-remembered by Matsuri. And there she is, standing beneath a lamp post in Hikarigaoka Park, the largest park in the Nerima ward. Dense foliage makes the dark night even darker.     And the shadows themselves seem alive somehow, deeper than is natural, like the darkness seemed 'outside'.     The younger Matsuri, perhaps 12 or 13, has her arms folded for warmth. Her outfit is something scavenged together from old garments of some kind, the leggings under her skirt threadbare at her knees. She shivers and moves over to the bench next to her to sit.     The lamp post flickers a few times, and Matsuri's yellow eyes dart up as the sizzling electrical sound. Then her gaze moves to a man further down the path on a different bench, seemingly sleeping. It doesn't look like he's moving.     The fog thick in the air makes it hard to see as the younger Matsuri, her hair several inches shorter than in the present, slowly, hesitantly, gets up off the bench and walks closer to the man. She pauses at several points, before bending down next to him, one hand reaching for bag sitting on the ground underneath the bench.     The man is breathing at least, though in the manner of one sleeping. Delicately, slowly, the homeless girl slides the bag out into the open and begins robbing the homeless man. When he suddenly rolls over to face her, Matsuri freezes, eyes wide, face pale. But he doesn't open his own eyes.     She pulls a cup of instant ramen out of the bag, the lid only partially on, and then she starts putting the bag back. A white aura starts to form around Matsuri while she does this, seemingly without her knowledge. An aura that turns into a collection of small, cute-looking little... Ghosts. Ghostlings? They zip out to the man and begin tugging at him, pulling away little bits of his own energy, and then bringing them back to Matsuri.     When the man's breathing becomes more labored and then devolves into sudden, violent coughing, Matsuri's head jerks up, her attention having been diverted to the bag she just fiiiinally put back where it was. When she sees the ghosts stealing life force, she yells, "NO!"     The man's eyes squint open and he sits up quickly, confused and hacking. The younger Matsuri turns and runs with the open noodle cup clutched in her hands like she'd just stolen a dragon's treasure.     Present Matsuri clenches her fist a little, not looking at anyone else, as the location of the memory moves to follow her younger self. 

:'''{{#var:6384|Orchid (6384)}} has posed:'''      This... isn't anything Orchid has gone through before. She turns around as the world transforms, then focuses on Matsuri by the lamp. "Orchid here, and seeing things," she reports, moving the spiders to her shoulders so that she can get a good 360 degree view of the goings on. She's following the vagabond girl as well... if she needs to. Otherwise, she's not walking. Various parts of her Search and Rescue programming turn on, instructing her how to help the hungry, forcing her to shut them off again. 

:'''{{#var:562|Eryl Fairfax (562)}} has posed:'''     Eryl frowns.     Not because of Matsuri's past desperate acts. She was clearly desperate and starving (though, so was the man). But he is immediately starting to question all this. Why this method of conveyance? It's far too personal a way to explore a new ally's backstory. The girl is clearly uncomfortable, and was only told to 'distance herself from it?' If she should do so, why make her help bring it up at all?     "Is this standard procedure for the Wizard's Association? The memory crystal, the shared experience of the past?" he asks Grave Matters out loud. His voice very deliberately neutral. 

:'''{{#var:1139|All-Seeing Eye (1139)}} has posed:'''      The sight of the park, dimly lit and somewhat overgrown, filters in all around him. He observes, mostly with a good-natured smile, until he observes the young Matsuri taking--or attempting to take--the cup ramen from the older man. The expression withers, slightly, as the scene plays out, culminating in a frown of distaste as the miniscule ghosts begin to steal the man's Essence for her. "Hm," comes his only commentary on the matter. At least the young mage-to-be had /some/ scruples.      With a sidelong glance to the Matsuri of the present, Eye breaks into a sprint as the memory moves to follow the past version. As his shoes strike the earth in pursuit of her, the Exalt lashes out with a whip strike. It's not aimed to lacerate, but to trip her up and halt her pursuit, much like a thrown bola or net might. Whereas Eryl holds sympathy for her, he does not--to the point where he'd even draw a weapon, albeit a nonlethal one, to hold her to task.      Should his attempt prove successful, he will pose a question to the younger Matsuri. "Was his Essence not enough? You had to take his food, too?" 

:'''{{#var:707|Xiaomu (707)}} has posed:''' One year ago. But to Xiaomu, it could have been seventy years ago, or a hundred, or five hundred - those cast out, those lost on the fringes, those in desperate need with no way to meet their own needs. The details change - ages, genders, what kind of food is being taken - but the story is far, *far* too familiar to the centuries-old huli jing. Not from being the starving child driven to thievery - at least, not more than a handful of times - but from bearing witness to others in such a scenario, and doing what little she could to alleviate it. "Think you're on the wrong track a bit, Eye," Xiaomu says quietly to the Exalt. "Matsuri -" Her voice is very gentle now. "- was that the first time your powers kicked in like that? Or just the first time ..." She trails off, looking 'ahead' to see where the memory of Matsuri is running to. If the party has to actively follow the younger girl, Xiaomu's actually on the move to do so. However, where All-Seeing Eye tries to trip the memory up, Xiaomu simply follows along, not moving to act on the events around them. Not yet, anyway. 

:'''{{#var:1084|Seras Victoria (1084)}} has posed:'''     Seras isn't entirely sure if she's supposed to be moving to interact or investigate! And she's hesitant to get too close... but she does start closing in faster and faster as the little ghosts appear to her and she figures out... "Almost like.. a vampire...?" Her gut response is to dash in and check on the man, but this brings her up next to Eye...     And the fact that he's straight out pulled a weapon! She squawks out at this in alarm. "You do NOT just pull weapons on CHILDREN!" After all... the girl seemed to reject what was going on. Seras can definitely sympathize...     "Wait, were those little spirits...?" It's going to take her a bit to figure this one out... 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     Matsuri's mouth opens, but Shiho answers first. "Yes. Wizards do not have the luxury of keeping secrets from each other. Not any more. According to our history lessons, magic users once worked to their own benefit. Some would form groups... Cabals, and what not. But whether working alone or with a group, the pursuit of knowledge and then keeping it secret created great rifts, and denied the community of wizards access to much information that could have saved countless lives or furthered our understanding of the universe."     She twirls her parasol idly between her fingers, Matsuri taking the time to regain her composure, relax, and put on her poker face. Shiho read her unease as well as Eryl did. So she's buying time by giving the explanation in her place. "Entire wars were fought in secret over the knowledge coveted by one faction or another. Ground breaking discoveries were made and lost over and over in isolation because no body talked to each other. Mages plotted and betrayed, or tried to rule the world. And then, when we were at our weakest, the general population, incited by other worldly forces, began to hunt us down. I am sure you have heard of such things. The Inquisition. The Witch Trials. The very SPECIFIC superstitions that--" 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     "Thanks, Shiho. I can take it from here." Matsuri says, her voice level. She meets Eryl's gaze, if he looks at her. "It's traditional, because keeping secrets nearly killed us all. All those untrained magic users, with no structure, no teachers, no power, were fodder to mobs with pitchforks and torches. Those who oversee other wizards must know who and what they're working with. I'm told that all wizards have something in their past they'd rather not share. At least sharing it with the one who is entrusting us to carry out assignments, and who we are entrusting to look out for our lives and futures, should be okay."     She looks back to the illusion, the tired, hungry Past Matsuri finally starting to slow her run down to an unsteady walk. "Right?" she asks not quite rhetorically.     Past Matsuri turns to look behind her as though hearing Eye's yell, eyes wide and panicked, still. Or maybe she's just making sure she's not being chased. She goes down on her knees in time with the whip lashing out, and with fingers trembling as much from hunger as from cold, peels the lid of the ramen cup back. Breath coming in short, small, whistling gasps, she looks into the cup and her face falls from desperation to confusion and then despair. She throws the cup aside, along with whatever was inside to make her give up on it, as she gets back up and starts heading down the path again. The cup goes rolling across the grass off the path, making noises that indicate it is at least not empty.     Ruri has been frowning all this time. When Eye attacks, she protests, "<<Whoah!>> Why are you attacking my friend like that!?" 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     Present Matsuri has definitely cooled her temperament, as she can only dryly say, "It's fine. He's just the kind of guy who gets his kicks whipping the less fortunate. So glad we've joined up with him. I can see great things in the future."     Ruri says, "That is <<no way cool>>!" as she follows after Seras to go challenge Eye to Mortal Kombat with a frown on her face.     Matsuri runs a hand through her hair. "Ruri, Mister Eye, Miss Victoria, it's fine. It's an illusion. Whatever happened back then can't be altered. If he wants to express his disapproval... Well, I can't blame him, even if I wanted to. This is what this whole process is for. So you all know who you'll be working with." Then she turns to Seras and says, "And yeah, I call them ghostlings. Apparently they like my aura or something, so they hang around me. Back then I--No. I'll let you find out on your own. Don't want to 'steer the investigation', or anything." She puts both arms behind her head and follows after since people have chosen the walking route instead of allowing themselves to be carried by the boundaries of the memory. It't not like walking too far is going to take them out of the illusion. The walking, too, is an illusion.     She casts a look at Xiaomu and says, "No. It was left out of the memory crystal for whatever reason, but they'd been stealing life from others to give to me ever since I could remember. I kept going to state-run orphanages, but everyone around me kept getting sick. And the unidentified illness kept getting them shut down, always starting after I got moved. Eventually I ran away. Figured it was better to live on my own." 

:'''{{#var:1139|All-Seeing Eye (1139)}} has posed:'''      Eye shrugs at Seras as the illusory Matsuri flees the scene. He raises his eyebrows, too, turning to face both her and Ruri. "Weapon? Attacking?" He raises his forearm, and the whip retracts back into his sleeve like a tape measure. "I'm making use of a simulation to provide examples of less-lethal takedowns--this is a peacekeeping organization, after all." The last of the whip slithers away, and he rolls his wrist with a dispassionate frown. "You saw the same acts of theft I did." 

:'''{{#var:6384|Orchid (6384)}} has posed:'''      Orchid shakes her head at All-Seeing Eye. "We're not here to enact judgement, we're here to see and understand," she says. "If we are to stand with Matsuri at our backs, we must know if we can trust her." 

:'''{{#var:1084|Seras Victoria (1084)}} has posed:'''     Seras is, for once, actually incensed enough to stand up to a fellow Paladin. She's glaring daggers at Eye, VERY disapprovingly, and standing up on her tippy-toes for every bit of height she can manage.     "Takedowns. Of starving kids. Are NOT. APPROPROPRIATE. Unless they're trying to STAB YOU with a knife." AAAAANGRY ex-cop showing here, even as rookie as she was!     "Desperate homeless people need food and shelter and help getting on their feet-- ooooargh." In a huff, Seras turns away... and continues to listen to the explanations being offered.     All until the phrase 'state run orphanage' reaches her ears.     At that very moment something quite drastic changes in her demeanor. She lowers her arms, shoulders sagging, and a DEEPLY haunted look flashing across her face. An almost uncharacteristic glimmer of violence, defiance, and despair all intermixed but kept shut behind a mental closet door that must NOT be opened.     Seras SHIVERS right where she stands, exhales an unnecessary breath to regain her composure, and exclaims in a somewhat timid, wary voice, "I think I see where this is going." 

:'''{{#var:562|Eryl Fairfax (562)}} has posed:'''     Secrets beget mistrust begets violence. Eryl gets that. But to use that as an excuse to deny personal privacy is... well, it doesn't sit right with him. But absolutely none of this gets verbalized. As Grandmaster, his words have weight now. If he were to come out as even slightly disapproving of the Wizard's Association, that would be sowing that same mistrust among everyone here. Word would spread, and their co-operation would be jeopardized.     But he does say something about Eye. His arm holding the crystal comes around the Exalted's shoulders and squeeze on them. "Forgive him for his zeal. All-Seeing Eye is a fine lawman. He just always acts his mind. I'm sure he'll keep himself in-check from here." His side-hug becomes that slightest bit tighter. That kind that can be felt, but it isn't obvious if you were just looking. He also gives Seras a Look. "Right?" 

:'''{{#var:707|Xiaomu (707)}} has posed:''' Xiaomu grimaces sympathetically as she hears Matsuri's recap. "Probably a security measure of some kind," she speculates. She'd have to ask whoever prepared the memory crystal for a definite answer ... and that would assume that whomever she asks would *answer* it. The sage fox *is* curious enough to divert her course and get a quick look at the cup's contents; she has a couple of guesses, none of them positive, but once her curiosity is satisfied, she resumes chasing after memory!Matsuri, with her nose scrunched up like she got a whiff of something *awful*. She doesn't even spare a comment for her bickering comrades. 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     Ruri folds her arms and huffs, "Yeah, but Matsuri is my friend!" Apparently that is the critical factor in her decision to try to stop Eye from faking a takedown on an illusion, not what the Past Matsuri was doing or not doing. Just how she felt about it. She's going to take some teaching.     She looks uncertain as Eryl speaks on Eye's behalf, but she walks up and points a finger critically. "I'll forgive you this time! I hope I still get the <<postah>> and <<arabamu>> when we're done here!" Then she turns on her heel and walks away over to where Shiho is floating a few inches above the ground, courtesy of her magic parasol, in pursuit.     "I wasn't serious about you being some kind of crooked police officer, Mister Eye. Sarcasm is just a habit. Though..." She lowers her arms to her sides and bows her head. "I humbly apologize for jumping to conclusions about what you were doing."     Shiho barely hides a smile as she floats ahead. "Well, now that we're all allies again, let's find out what's going to happen next, shall we?"     Past Matsuri walks along the path, lamps flickering one after another with increasing frequency, until suddenly all the lights in the park go out. Only the barest hint of light from the city beyond the park's boundaries begins to illuminate things as the year-younger girl pauses, shoulders hunched, looking around uncertaintly, fearfully.     Then one of the lamps turns back on, causing her to jump.     In the pool of yellow light beneath the lamp post, there's a man in a trenchcoat and suit. Nice shoes, tie... And a fedora, face wrap, and heavy-duty goggles with black lenses.     "Stop right there." he says.     The Past Matsuri shrieks and turns to run, but another lamp turns on, and the man is standing beneath that one too.     This repeats, with every direction Matsuri turns to run having a lamp post with a strange man, even in places where there should be no lamp post, until she is surrounded. Each of the additional lamp posts has one of the Paladins beneath it, an illusion overlaying their clothing and appearances.     The first iteration of the man says to the panicking girl, "Stop, Matsuri."     Matsuri cowers in place, probably thinking them to be from the orphanages or something, since they know her name.     "We are the Finders." Another of the men says with the same voice. "And we have Found you, Matsuri."     "Three guesses who these pleasant gentlemen work for." Present-Matsuri says dryly, probably covering up an old fear of creepy strangers showing up in the dark and surrounding her by making light of it. The Past-Matsuri sure doesn't seem as unimpressed. 

:'''{{#var:562|Eryl Fairfax (562)}} has posed:'''     "There has to be a better look to have when approaching children on the street," Eryl says sardonically, eager to move things away from the awkwardness of what just happened. He could go on about this. About how 'Finders' is a terrible, terrible name. But again, his words have weight, and he's barely met with the Association representatives. Maybe there's cause.     But he stands by the appearance thing. Even in the malaise of cultural relativity, there has to be some standards. 

:'''{{#var:6384|Orchid (6384)}} has posed:'''      The good news is that Orchid can see in the dark!      The bad news is that she can only see what Matsuri remembers seeing, which isn't much.      Still, she can put together what she does see and get a good idea of what is going on. She sees the image of a young, helpless girl being threatened by omnious figures, and she DASHES forward to interpose herself and her forcefield!      Except she isn't wearing her dash boots, so she just dramatically falls on her face.      And the forcefield generators are part of the bracers she's not wearing. So she just sort of goes splat. 

:'''{{#var:707|Xiaomu (707)}} has posed:''' "I only need one, I think," Xiaomu replies, nose still wrinkled. "... so I know this is in Japan, but are any of them named Bob?" 

:'''{{#var:1139|All-Seeing Eye (1139)}} has posed:'''      Eye sedately raises a palm towards Seras. "Irrelevant," he says with polite disdain. "State inefficiency is no excuse for lawlessness." He looks as if he's about to say something else, with an expression as patronizing as a humanoid face can muster. Facing Ruri, he continues: "Nor is--" However, he is cut off, fortunately, by Eryl. In an instant, that condescension is replaced with cheer and warmth in such abundance as to almost certainly preclude the possibility of sincerity.      "Of course, Grandmaster!~" He pays his superior a winning smile, returning the gesture (but without the squeeze). Appearances are very important! "I do apologize if my passion rubbed you the wrong way, comrades." Edging away from Eryl, he offers a bow to Seras, Ruri, and Matsuri. "Of course, Ruri dear." He is petty enough to withhold such things, but not after an apology. After his apology is given, he stands up straight, places his hands in his pockets, and wears his Good Boy face, simply letting the memory carry him.      "A facelift wouldn't hurt, no," says the Exalt with a slight wince as Orchid falls flat. 

:'''{{#var:1084|Seras Victoria (1084)}} has posed:'''     "Right." Seras... does not sound or look convinced, but she kinda has to back off anyways with Eryl saying that. Sheesh!     Oh well. Focus is now back on the continuing memory playthrough!     The strange light show has her nearly JUMPING, especially as she didn't see where the man came from... or how he's getting ABOUT!     Blink blink blink! "What the..."     "W-well... the Wizards Association, clearly!" IS her main and most obvious guess.     She's still deflated and thorny over the Eye incident, but trying to bury that. 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     Past-Matsuri freaks out, trapped as she is, terrified, hungry, cold, exhausted... And then she stands up, her aura of ghostlings swarming up around in her huge cloud as she screams out. The Finders tense and lower themselves slightly, as though preparing to move. Matsuri begins making throwing gestures, the ghostlings drifting along in the path of her movements.     She tries to throw them at the various iterations of the Finders. Some drift over Orchid's head as she falls on the ground. The handful of ghostlings that even reach the Paladins bounce harmlessly off of some crackling, body-hugging purple aura each of them has. As Matsuri exhausts herself even further with her flailing, the spirits just returning to her after she throws them, empty-handed, the girl's eyes sink half-closed, she staggers unsteadily, coughs a few times, and then collapses. The ghostlings catch her as she falls, supporting her weight even though they look to have all the strength of marshmallows, and lowering her gently to the ground.     The first Finder raises some strange cross between a hand radio and something out of an alchemist's laboratory to his ear.     The surroundings become heavily distorted, blurring, and the voice of the man distant as he speaks. "We've confirmed her. She's one of us. She wasn't a threat to us, but we should still--...Yes."     Past-Matsuri fights to keep her eyes open as the voices sound like they're coming from underwater now.     "Yes. We'll bring her in at once, Lord--" The rest of the name is unintelligible.     Then the vision enters such a blurry dream-like state of mangled impressions that one can only assume these are all that remains of whatever dreams she had back then.     Present Matsuri says, "End of our first investigation, I guess. I thought it would go a bit further, but I forgot how tired I was by the time they found me." She yawns elaborately and stretches her arms. "It's making me tired just watching it."     Then she looks around to everyone. "Any questions?"     Ruri holds up a hand. "Yes, how come every wizard I've met outside our group has been a <<jerk>>?"     Matsuri says, "It's a class feature. Anyone else?"     Ruri looks slightly blue-faced in horror as she turns away to mutter to herself. "R-really? A class feature? Wow. I had no idea...!"     "What are you muttering about? I don't think you know what 'class feature' even means." Shiho says as she frowns at yet another pointless interruption from the clueless underworld princess. Someone give her access to the wiki how-to for basic human knowledge, please. 

:'''{{#var:707|Xiaomu (707)}} has posed:''' "Hey. Not all wizards are jerks," Xiaomu points out - her voice a good bit more pointed than she might normally mean for it to be. "Just some of them. Now, if it's more generally true in *your* world, it's a poorly designed system which makes 'jerk' a standard-issue character class element." She shrugs gamely at Ruri, her air of having been nettled quickly abating. "And nothing I need to ask off the top of my head," she states. "Probably best if you get some sleep; if being a jerk is a class feature for wizards, being a heavy sleeper is de rigeur for magical girls," she finishes with a playful grin. 

:'''{{#var:6384|Orchid (6384)}} has posed:'''      Tiny (marshmellow) ghosts bounce off of Orchid's black hair, before she levers herself back to wher she can see what is going on. "Oh. They're putting her to sleep." She's not at her most coherant right now. "And I've got a question! How did you feel about what the ghosts were doing for you?" 

:'''{{#var:562|Eryl Fairfax (562)}} has posed:'''     "I have a question, and it applies to all three of you," Eryl says, addressing all members of Grave Matters. His face is slightly stern, but he's clearly not upset with the three, or anyone else here. "What is your own opinion on how the Wizard's Association handles things?"     He lets that one hang for a moment before adding, "I won't be reporting your replies to them, so don't let that concern cloud your answer. My exposure to them has been short, so I would like to hear from those entrenched within it." He smiles now, and gives an open gesture, inviting any to answer first. 

:'''{{#var:1084|Seras Victoria (1084)}} has posed:'''     This whole ordeal that Matsuri went through is taking a toll on Seras. Her heart's already hurting. Quite tellingly she's put a hand over hers, even if it doesn't actually beat anymore. The draculina is quiet, but she turns an attentive eye and ear to Eryl's question and the girls, curious about their answer!     "... Did ALL of you go through something like this...?" 

:'''{{#var:1139|All-Seeing Eye (1139)}} has posed:'''      Eye weathers an assault not meant for him with a nonplussed expression--he didn't imagine that the girl would've had much of a chance against an organization specifically tasked towards finding her. Her, and those like her, anyway. As the scene fades, he has plenty of questions. Rather than spend an inordinate amount of time on them, however, he simply asks a pointed question along the same line as Eryl's. "And what is it that makes you think so many other wizards are... 'jerks,' as it were?" He gestures idly towards the space a few feet in front of him. "This poor excuse for a recruiting drive notwithstanding, of course." 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     Matsuri says wrly in response to Xiaomu, "You've got that right at least. A growing girl needs her sleep." She then stuffs her hands in pockets she doesn't have, her hands vanishing up to the wrists into portable pocket dimensions she has camouflaged as being on her sweatshirt by keeping her arms at just the right angle. "They were the only company I had for most of my life. I didn't like that they were hurting people to make me stronger... To feed me. It's why I ran away and decided to only live off of normal food." She nods her head to the remnants of the scene they witnessed.     "You saw how that went. I had... Mixed feelings about them back then. I hated them. I hated that they made be have to stay away from everyone else." Matsuri's eye lids sink a bit, her face and voice having smoothly transitioned from flippant ambivalence to calm and serious. A sedate monotone, like someone just telling a story, not revealing their innermost feelings and thoughts. "But you know... No matter how I felt about them, whether I loved them or hated them, they were the only ones who stayed with me through everything. And I can't hate them for that." 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     She heaves a sigh. "But I still didn't like them hurting people for my sake when I didn't want them to, and hadn't asked me to."     When Eryl asks the question to all three girls, Matsuri's face goes blank, as if by reflex. Shiho's expression never changes, still smiling politely, showing much better acting ability. Ruri is slow to respond and wastes time looking to her companions to see what she should do, and then wastes further time trying to decide whether to be bored or polite. She finally decides to kick at the dream-like aether a little as she looks down. "I don't know. They're okay I guess, once you get past the terrible first impression. Lord Meta let me stay with Matsuri instead of letting the special goon squad kill me or send me back to the Underworld."     Matsuri flicks her eyes towards Shiho, blinks, then to Ruri, then blinks, then back to Eryl.     Shiho looks for a moment at Matsuri then sighs. "My feelings about the organization, like many in the Wizard's Association itself, are mixed. There are some things which seem counter-intuitive at first, that they assure us have good cause, even when it is not apparent. However, their measures work and apparently have worked for over a century. Attempting to provoke a suspected unregistered magic user to see what they can do is standard procedure. The Finders locate such untrained magic sensitive individuals before something bad can happen to them, and then bring them back. But at first, it appears cruel. However, let us say that Matsuri was dangerous, and they brought her into the fold of trust and anti-secrecy without confirming that. She could become like..." 

:'''{{#var:6388|Grave Matters (6388)}} has posed:'''     Shiho twirls her parasol. "A ticking time bomb. Among those who trusted her, unsuspecting, and then, perhaps without even her meaning to, she starts causing damage to the Association. There are things the Association handles, things they safeguard, more important than the comfort of even a starving child."     Matsuri replies dully, "Mixed feelings. More important. Exactly what I was going to say. You should probably wait until you're done before I say anything else though. You're supposed to draw your own conclusions about me."     To the question from Seras, Ruri says, "Kind of. There was a difference with me though."     Shiho says, "Oh, yes. Me too. A big difference."     Matsuri's gaze, which had started to sink again, comes up, a bit of the gloom and apathy fading with curiosity and uncertainty.     Then Ruri and Shiho say together, "I had a friend beside me."     Matsuri's eyes widen and she breathes in slightly, then she looks away and scowls. "Geez. What is this? 'Embarass Matsuri Day'?" But her tone isn't quite as disapproving as one might think it would be based on her expression.     When All-Seeing Eye asks his question, the girls look to him. Matsuri says, "Lots of things. But the biggest one is probably... That they think having magic makes them better than normal people. That because we are born with power, that it's our responsibility to watch over the less fortunate, to guard them... But the presumptuous, arrogant way some of them talk, like anyone who doesn't have magic is just a sheep... Or a pet or something... It can feel kind of... Well, no, a LOT condescending. But I guess it's better that Wizards see ourselves as protectors than rulers, right? The Association has kept any magic user from trying to take over the world since World War II--" Matsuri claps a hand to her mouth. "Uh, oops. I probably shouldn't talk about that."     Shiho makes a kind of teeth-bared, crooked-lipped expression as she flops a hand back and forth limply. "Let't just say that not all of what the Axis powers were attempting with mysticism was nonsense." 
}}

Perchance To Dream - Crow (Carna)

2018-03-06T00:29:41Z

Doctor Doctor:

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2017/10/16
|Location=Painted World of Ariamis
|Synopsis=A Shadow has a vision.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
Bits of someone else were leaking out of Crow more and more. It had come here to help its good friend Priscilla with her problems, and now there was someone else looking out through Crow's eyes, telling people things, and speaking in a strange voice. It didn't like it. It didn't like this god-thing inside of itself, beneath the layers of shadow.

It especially didn't like the memories that surfaced whenever this Other spoke. They were foreign memories, belonging to someone else, and yet disturbingly familiar. And many of them were very unpleasant. Crow was still innocent in many ways, though less so as time went on. It didn't understand how anyone could be so mean. How it could have been mean in a 'past life' or whatever. It didn't make sense.

Now that it knew what it was like to kill, to hurt, it couldn't fathom wanting to do it again. Ever.

As Crow dwells on its feelings, its thoughts, gradually being pushed aside by something else, even though it had come to help good friend Priscilla, to keep good friend Enark safe after that disastrous near-fatal attack by something wearing Crow's own face and form, it could not focus on the task at hand.

And eventually, Crow realized it wasn't with people in the Painting anymore. It was somewhere else. When had that happened? It didn't know. But someone or something had taken charge of it, and used its non-presence to just slip away. A vanishing act so subtle that even Crow had missed it.

Something was going to happen in the near future. Something that would hurt all its friends. That other inside, even if Crow didn't like them much, analyzed the flows of energy, the patterns of Powers ebbing and flowing, saw their culmination in a major battle, and predicted the outcome.

And from that outcome, that Other determined that those precious to the both of them, those they called friends, would be drawn into something terrible if they didn't work together to stop it. Shadow and god had to combine forces. Even if it meant they would have sto stop being with their friends from now on. That pained Crow. The idea of being alone again, now that it knew what being with others was like.

But wouldn't it be the same if Crow's friends were lost? If they were taken away and trapped?

In that case, it was better that Crow rescue them by working with this Other, because then at least they'd get to be with each other.

So when the Throne of the Crimson King fell, a Shadow stalked the Bad thing that appeared. The masked Bogeyman that sought friend Kushiko, and then all of them, having tasted their power and wanting it to renew its strength.

And that is how Crow found its way into the dimension known as Fearful Symmetry.

And that is how Crow become a prisoner itself: One that, unlike the others, could not leave.

One can only leave Emblem City if one is returning to one's home.

Emblem City was Crow's home, long ago.

And that meant it had to stay forever.

But Crow was happy.

Terribly sad, but also happy.

Because everyone else on the outside would get to be together again from now on.

Then Crow realized not everyone had made it out of Emblem City before the fire walls went up, cutting it off from the outside world more firmly than ever before.

And then Crow came back to its senses.

There were still people to save, and a future to change.

Perchance To Dream - Crow (Carna)

2018-03-06T00:25:32Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Cutscene Header |Date of Scene=2017/10/16 |Location=Painted World of Ariamis |Synopsis=A Shadow has a vision. |Tinyplot=Return To Escher }} Bits of someone else were leaking..."

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2017/10/16
|Location=Painted World of Ariamis
|Synopsis=A Shadow has a vision.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
Bits of someone else were leaking out of Crow more and more. It had come here to help its good friend Priscilla with her problems, and now there was someone else looking out through Crow's eyes, telling people things, and speaking in a strange voice. It didn't like it. It didn't like this god-thing inside of itself, beneath the layers of shadow.

It especially didn't like the memories that surfaced whenever this Other spoke. They were foreign memories, belonging to someone else, and yet disturbingly familiar. And many of them were very unpleasant. Crow was still innocent in many ways, though less so as time went on. It didn't understand how anyone could be so mean. How it could have been mean in a 'past life' or whatever. It didn't make sense.

Now that it knew what it was like to kill, to hurt, it couldn't fathom wanting to do it again. Ever.

As Crow dwells on its feelings, its thoughts, gradually being pushed aside by something else, even though it had come to help good friend Priscilla, to keep good friend Enark safe after that disastrous near-fatal attack by something wearing Crow's own face and form, it could not focus on the task at hand.

And eventually, Crow realized it wasn't with people in the Painting anymore. It was somewhere else. When had that happened? It didn't know. But someone or something had taken charge of it, and used its non-presence to just slip away. A vanishing act so subtle that even Crow had missed it.

Something was going to happen in the near future. Something that would hurt all its friends. That other inside, even if Crow didn't like them much, analyzed the flows of energy, the patterns of Powers ebbing and flowing, saw their culmination in a major battle, and predicted the outcome.

And from that outcome, that Other determined that those precious to the both of them, those they called friends, would be drawn into something terrible if they didn't work together to stop it. Shadow and god had to combine forces. Even if it meant they would have sto stop being with their friends from now on. That pained Crow. The idea of being alone again, now that it knew what being with others was like.

But wouldn't it be the same if Crow's friends were lost? If they were taken away and trapped?

In that case, it as better than Crow rescue them, along with this Other. Because then at least they'd get to be with each other.

So when the Throne of the Crimson King fell, a Shadow stalked the Bad thing that appeared. The masked Bogeyman that sought Kushiko, and then all of them, having tasted their power and wanting it to renew its strength.

And that is how Crow found its way into the dimension known as Fearful Symmetry.

And that is how Crow become a prisoner itself. One that, unlike the others, could not leave.

One can only leave Emblem City if one is returning to one's home.

Emblem City was Crow's home, long ago.

And that means it has to stay forever.

But Crow is happy.

Terribly sad, but also happy.

Because everyone else on the outside would get to be together again from now on.

Then Crow realized not everyone had made it out of Emblem City before the fire walls went up, cutting it off from the outside world more firmly than ever before.

And then Crow came back to its senses.

There were still people to save, and a future to change.

Perchance To Dream - Leyanne Mace (Carna)

2018-03-05T00:27:26Z

Doctor Doctor:

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/03/04
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=A pilot has a dream.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
Mars.

The Red Planet.

A sister world to Earth.

A vast dark cloud crawls across it, from pole to pole, right down the middle.

The darkness spreads, outwards from the line of murk drawn once the two hemispheres meet...

And then the spreading darkness becomes a pair of enormous hands, that crack the planet right down the middle.

Fingers begin to crawl out of the planet. Fingers that hunt down every last living thing, crushing them like ants, while the world falls apart.

Leyanne is holding a statue. An icon of some inhuman deity. It laughs at her as she watches helplessly as everything she knows is erased in darkness and crushing pressure. It laughs and laughs and laughs.

And then Leyanne Mace wakes up.

Perchance To Dream - Leyanne Mace (Carna)

2018-03-05T00:25:52Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Cutscene Header |Date of Scene=2018/03/04 |Location=Fearful Symmetry |Synopsis=A pilot has a dream. |Tinyplot=Return To Escher }} Mars. The Red Planet. A sister world..."

Perchance To Dream - Tamamo no Mae (Carna)

2018-02-21T00:03:42Z

Doctor Doctor:

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/01/20
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=A caster has a dream.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
Figures in rags and hoods, all in a row, walking through a darkened city.

A deep humming emanates from them, as they move along in their funeral procession.

But it is no coffin, no pallet, no mortal body that they carry to its resting place.

As they file past buildings stained in ashes, in some creeping black corruption, they are hauling behind them on great wagons, the shrines, temples, churches, pagodas, mosques, and other places of worship of many different cultures and beliefs.

A parade of the holy, pulled by human pallbearers.

Where do they go? What are they burying?

Finally, after a long time, they reach the edge of the ground. Broken by unknown events in the past.

And then, on the gray slope of that crevasse, they begin to dump the structures into it.

Small ones, large ones. Temple of mighty gods, shrines to local kami. The temple-cities of ancient civilizations, disassembled and wheeled through the streets of this dim place piece by piece, join the rest in falling down, down, down into the darkness, crashing and breaking filling the air with thunder as the next "offering" to the pit comes smashing and tumbling down after it.

The homes of the gods: large ones and small ones. The places where people came to page them homage: no matter their particular sect.

The vestiges of the places of worship for the gods, assembled in the Land of the Dead, by dead human souls, now being discarded, abandoned...

Put to rest, in that hungering darkness.

The dead are holding a funeral for dead gods.

Dead gods that lie in their temples even now, moldering, rotting...

Waiting.

And then Tamamo no Mae wakes up.

Perchance To Dream - Tamamo no Mae (Carna)

2018-02-21T00:03:10Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Cutscene Header |Date of Scene=2018/01/20 |Location=Fearful Symmetry |Synopsis=A soldier has a dream. |Tinyplot=Return To Escher }} Figures in rags and hoods, all in a row,..."

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/01/20
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=A soldier has a dream.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
Figures in rags and hoods, all in a row, walking through a darkened city.

A deep humming emanates from them, as they move along in their funeral procession.

But it is no coffin, no pallet, no mortal body that they carry to its resting place.

As they file past buildings stained in ashes, in some creeping black corruption, they are hauling behind them on great wagons, the shrines, temples, churches, pagodas, mosques, and other places of worship of many different cultures and beliefs.

A parade of the holy, pulled by human pallbearers.

Where do they go? What are they burying?

Finally, after a long time, they reach the edge of the ground. Broken by unknown events in the past.

And then, on the gray slope of that crevasse, they begin to dump the structures into it.

Small ones, large ones. Temple of mighty gods, shrines to local kami. The temple-cities of ancient civilizations, disassembled and wheeled through the streets of this dim place piece by piece, join the rest in falling down, down, down into the darkness, crashing and breaking filling the air with thunder as the next "offering" to the pit comes smashing and tumbling down after it.

The homes of the gods: large ones and small ones. The places where people came to page them homage: no matter their particular sect.

The vestiges of the places of worship for the gods, assembled in the Land of the Dead, by dead human souls, now being discarded, abandoned...

Put to rest, in that hungering darkness.

The dead are holding a funeral for dead gods.

Dead gods that lie in their temples even now, moldering, rotting...

Waiting.

And then Tamamo no Mae wakes up.

Perchance To Dream - Mairead Sandilands (Carna)

2018-02-12T00:19:35Z

Doctor Doctor:

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/02/11
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=A warrior has a dream.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
The world is dead. All of them are. All of the people and all of the gods and all of the weapons they used to fight each other with.

There is no future.

There is only the wreckage of past, strewn out across a landscape composed entirely of human skulls.

And a great stone wheel rolls over that sea of skulls, crushing them all to dust beneath it.

The wheel will grind forever, a last spiteful act against humanity by inhuman forces, reducing all that humans accomplished or believed they had accomplished into dust.

However, past weapons of war intermixed with the bones, past the crumbling remnants of fortresses turned into graveyards, there is still a single small light.

Like a bonfire. Or some glowing little shrine.

Mairead Sandilands sits next to it, alone in the darkness.

The wheel grinds towards her, intent on this one straggling survivor. Its purpose is impossible to fulfill until there is nobody left after all. Nobody but itself.

The wheel churns the seas of bones, casting them out in fragments and dust behind it as its thunderous approach sends tremors throughout all of everything.

When Mairead looks up, she finds that the wheel has stopped before her.

Eyeless, it seems to be looking at her, with a cold malevolence, paired with detached curiosity.

Then she hears a voice in her ear.

And then Mairead wakes up.

Perchance To Dream - Mairead Sandilands (Carna)

2018-02-12T00:18:35Z

Doctor Doctor:

Perchance To Dream - Staren (Carna)

2018-02-12T00:14:15Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Cutscene Header |Date of Scene=2018/02/11 |Location=Fearful Symmetry |Synopsis=An inventor has a dream. |Tinyplot=Return To Escher }} Wires are plugged into Staren's skull...."

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/02/11
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=An inventor has a dream.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
Wires are plugged into Staren's skull. Into his neck, his arms, his torso, his legs, all trailing back to a vast tower of glowing lights in circuit-board patterns.

Glyphs and sigils of raw data, compressed into every photon, a single one might contain all the knowledge in the universe. Or in A universe.

But the data flows one way, unless Staren requests it.

And then, like a valve opening the tiniest bit, some information will bubble up the connection before the valve is shut again.

Meanwhile, everything he sees, does, and experiences is added to the collection of information in the so-called Lumiere System.

And voices heap praise upon him that might sound like mockery to him, despite their sincerity.

"You seek to change the future, to deny fate."

"But you refuse to release the past."

"And all you do leads directly towards what you reject."

"Your conviction of 'free will' is the very tool which will guarantee your compliance."

"This is good. We need this from you."

"That you do not understand yourself is the key to re-establishing Law."

"Records of the past can not be used as the template for the world in a heart that truly embraces the future and all that could be."

The dream-Staren rails against this seeming forcing of perceptions upon him, of alien goals, and self-superior reasoning. "I'm not doing what you want me to! I'm doing what I choose to!"

There is no answer from the void, lit only with its vast archives of knowledge.

"And I am not clinging to the past!" Dream-Staren calls out, angry at the lack of argument, the complete absence of effort to even contradict him, like his opinions do not matter at all.

But then the voices say in unison, "Then why is your soul still coiled around these memories?"

And then dream-Staren remembers all of them. All of the people he has lost. All the people he has failed. All the people he has saved. All the victories. All the defeats. All the struggles. Everything that has shaped him.

And his refusal to give something up to help Priscilla, because he could not trust in the future. He could only cling to his self-image, thinking he was fighting against it by denying it.

He has neither trusted the future nor lived in the present for quite some time.

He resides in the past, with the memories of ghosts.

"And that is why you belong in Lumiere. You are half-way to being dead already."

"The dead do not change."

"And neither will you."

And then Staren wakes up.

Perchance To Dream - Mairead Sandilands (Carna)

2018-02-11T23:59:08Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Cutscene Header |Date of Scene=2018/02/11 |Location=Fearful Symmetry |Synopsis=A warrior has a dream. |Tinyplot=Return To Escher }} The world is dead. All of them are. All o..."

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/02/11
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=A warrior has a dream.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
The world is dead. All of them are. All of the people and all of the gods and all of the weapons they used to fight each other with.

There is no future.

There is only the wreckage of past, strewn out across a landscape composed entirely of human skulls.

And a great stone wheel rolls over that sea of skulls, crushing them all to dust beneath it.

The wheel will grind forever, a last spiteful against humanity by inhuman forces, reducing all that humans accomplished or believed they had accomplished into dust.

However, past weapons of war intermixed with the bones, past the crumbling remnants of fortresses turned into graveyards, there is still a single small light.

Like a bonfire. Or some glowing little shrine.

Mairead Sandilands sits next to it, alone in the darkness.

The wheel grinds towards her, intent on this one straggling survivor. Its purpose is impossible to fulfill until there is nobody left after all. Nobody but itself.

The wheel churns the seas of bones, casting them out in fragments and dust behind it as its thunderous approach sends tremors throughout all of everything.

When Mairead looks up, she finds that the wheel has stopped before her.

Eyeless, it seems to be looking at her, with a cold malevolence, paired with detached curiosity.

Then she hears voice in her ear.

And then Mairead wakes up.

5681/Chasing The Sun (1)

2018-02-08T06:06:20Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/02/03 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=Investigators follow up on reports of missing Elites. |Cast of Characters=974, 451, 385, 42, 1102, 1143, 290..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/02/03
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=Investigators follow up on reports of missing Elites.
|Cast of Characters=974, 451, 385, 42, 1102, 1143, 290, 1123
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The entry method for Lumiere is the same as usual for old hands. A journey to the Cavern of Death in the Four Caverns region, dodging or fighting through Undead, until reachin a huge pit in the ground surrounded by mounds of bones. Jumping, flying, or otherwise entering the pit induces a magically slow and lengthy fall down to an infinite black marble plane with a pair of large gates. They look the same aside from their coloration. One black, the other red. They have skeletons carved into the frames and on the doors themselves, either seeming to be trying to pull the doors open, or hold them closed.     The grey seem the less menacing of the two, and opening them produces the same effect as a naturally-forming warp gate, allowing travel to one of many destinations, that appear in the mind as though camera snap shots seen through a watery film. One of them seems to be of a church, and a town surrounding it. Many of the others look... Less hospitable. If a local community leader is going to be calling for a meeting somewhere, it's probably that church or town. The Paladins, at least, know the leader is a priestess. But even someone not tapped into that detail might think to check a place like that might harbor the injured or the sick to see if they might be there.     And for someone from the Concord, who has been involved for awhile, or the Watch, who may have heard rumor of Lumiere from their own members, if not actually read the reports, that about three out of four of the people missing have either visited or been actively involved in the place might be a clue that those used to working with limited intel could follow up on readily, with the same general conclusion that starting at a population center is more sensible than just jumping into the middle of the underworld.     The Church is a very death-themed locale, though peaceful in its own way. Those unfamiliar with Lumiere might be startled by just how DARK it is. There are no stars in the sky. If there's a moon, it can't be located, and there's no evidence there's ever going to be a sunrise in this place. It smells like dust and ashes and ancient decay and stale air. Actually, since they're apparently in an underworld-like location, is what they're breathing even 'air'? Better not to dwell too long on that.     There are some scattered lights. Electric lights powered by modern-looking and clearly non-native generators, candles with blue flames, and so on, but beyond a ramshackle collection of falling apart homes and businesses surrounding the church, and a high wall closing off any view of what lies beyond, what they have to look at when they emerge as glowing figures resolving into their own bodies and form around some sort of... Shrine in the shape of a cathedral's peak on the ground, whether they arrived invididually or in groups, is just the murky town and this one church that seems slightly better lit, and mildly more peaceful. Even if there's a pretty expansive graveyard, and the chapel itself.     A graveyard in the underworld?     'What the dead bury' is probably also not something to think about too long or too carefully. 

:'''{{#var:451|Karian Icefang (451)}} has posed:'''     The undead were definately an unexpected little bit of exersize for the Space Wolves to encounter, but they do what they were made for, and break through. Taking the leap, so to speak, was likewise something Karian did not plan for, but he made it anyway. (if player misses anything, please forgive, migraine still slightly raging) Upon finding the church, he grimmaces under his helmet. "Worshippers of death.....not the best first contact." 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' If Yuna had known what she was getting herself into here, she might not have volunteered to investigate as quickly as she did. But William didn't mention *where* Leyanne went missing, except for providing rough coordinates for where Tiny last reported in from. Or Finna. Or Dorian, or even Empty Tidings (one name which Yuna *doesn't* recognize terribly well). Any one of the familiar names would have been enough on its own to make Yuna want to go make sure her friends were all right - and if it was something where Leyanne, Finna, *and* Dorian all got caught up in something that was over their heads, then practical concerns like 'what were they investigating' or 'what do we know about the hazards in those parts' are on the back burner - finding the missing doesn't just take priority, it *IS* the priority. Finding out what happened to them, and trying to resolve the situation they were involved in, are either secondary or something to work on en route to the rescue. ... and that's roughly what Yuna is still reminding herself as she comes through the gate with Karian. She'd rather have familiar company when she's in unfamiliar territory - that is, in addition to the Matrix of Light. The downright creepy surroundings of the world of the (un)dead leave the battlesuited blonde girl clutching the Matrix Divider tightly, if carefully. "Keep monitoring channels, Elner," she instructs her robo-faerie companion. "Any traffic, *especially* distress calls. And make sure whether we've got contact with the rest of the Multiverse." She did promise to check in within 24 hours, and if something keeps her from doing that, her last request to her fellows in the Watch was to send in the cavalry, as heavy as they could. Sometimes she forgets it's not the Union ... but it's what she has, even if she still tries to keep the connection under wraps. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren beams down to the hole and makes his way to the church, stopping to explain Lumiere to newbies he encounters. Such as Karian: "This entire realm is a sort of afterlife. Everyone here is dead, aside from us... The cycle that allows them to reincarnate has been broken, so they're trapped here. I'd be careful about investigating alone..." He snaps his fingers. "Damn, Asterios was vital to our plan for exploration, too! Anyway... absent other ideas, the Priestess might know if anything weird's been going on here. We should try to get in touch with Enark too..." 

:'''{{#var:1102|Kotone Shiomi (1102)}} has posed:''' Most of those names are strangers to Kotone, but they're missing and may need help, and that's reason enough to pitch in. The Japanese high schooler follows the coordinates and seems somewhat unsettled by her surroundings, despite her time in the multiverse by now growing long, she still hasn't experienced too many places beyond home. "This place gives me the creeps." She mentions, then waves to the others. "Hey." 

:'''{{#var:1143|Touta Konoe (1143)}} has posed:''' It was Touta Konoe's first time in Lumiere. That being said he had no issues with the setting or the plethora of Undead that lingered in the properly named Cavern of Death. The young man being a vampire probably would have fit in as a denizen of the night, even if his outward appearence of a teenage kid with a katana said otherwise. Though that was the least of his concerns. He was bolting as fast as he could, uninterested in the zombies seeing that some had already been handled. An indication that others had at the very least come through this way before he had. Whether that meant it was a sign of those of who had gone missing or others had beaten him here he wasn't sure. "If Mairead's book is right the pit should be here!" Not having as vast amount of resources at his display like the factions, Touta can only use what he had been given by those he had met in the universe to help him. Mairead Sandiland's books concerning the Multiverse were coming in handy in this endeavor to navigate through uncharted territory for him. Though his efforts proved fruitful as he sees the chasm in the distance, and without restraint jumps in! Though instead of falling it feels more like he's floating to the bottom. Slowly. Too slowly. Only receiving the information that people were missing by accident, overhearing a report that Mairead had received through her comms. There was a disappearence of several individuals three of which Touta knew all too well. Dorian the Necromancer who had helped him return to his world, Tomoe the Lady of Darkness who he helped along with the rest of her friends, and Caster or Hime-chan as he nicknamed her. Another friend who had been nice enough to welcome him into his home, and whom he promised to show the same hospitality to some day. All were missing in Lumiere. He didn't even have to think about it, he was going to find them. The free fall into the pit was likely slow to keep others from falling to their death, but that wasn't an issue for Touta. His issue was that he didn't know where his friends were and the longer it took for him to find them, the worse off they might be. He couldn't accept that. "100,000 FOLD!" It's hard to say if this magic bringing him down would be altered by simply altering his weight, but he was going to try anyway. Messing with the dial on his sword the weight of the blade had altered from it's original weight to 100,000 times the norm, Touta's attempt to increase the speed of his free fall into the abyss and probably making more of a ruckus upon his landing than the others who had arrived before him. After landing it was difficult to say whether or not Touta would have chosen the right path, but it appears there were other's who had made it here before him. Some who he was familiar with like Yuna, and Kotone who had bothed helped him as well along with Dorian before. "Hey! You guys came too?" Then there were others who he wasn't as familiar with such as Karian and Staren, but Staren seemed more informed about Lumiere than the rest so while he was glad to see the others he takes a moment to make sure he's listening to Staren. 

:'''{{#var:290|Rebecca Chambers (290)}} has posed:''' Undead. Not a problem for Rebecca. Jumping down a pit? That's another story, especially since Rebecca forgot to bring a rappelling cable or something similar. But then she sees others going down and slowly descending because of magic or something, and Rebecca shrugs and jumps into the pit herself as well. "Where am I? Wonderland?" Rebecca says to nobody in particular as she slowly descends. However, her casual attitude disappears as she sees where they've arrived, and her demeanor turns into a firm one once again. Holstering her Beretta, Rebecca goes for her Magnum instead and slaps a clip into it. "Looks like an incarnation of hell or something," She whispers to herself. Even when she sees the church, she still seems a bit uneasy. "Almost ironic, seeing a place like THAT here..." 

:'''{{#var:1123|Tanya Degurechaff (1123)}} has posed:'''     Asterios is missing.     With an intense frown, Major Tanya von Degurechaff sails right over the swarm of undead protecting the entrance to Lumiere. Eyes aglow and blue, the gemstone of her flight unit mirroring the light in her displeased expression. One might assume the young Major is concerned for the well being of her Servant. And to an extent, that might be true, but it's not emotional attachment that drives her.     His capability as a bodyguard makes him more useful alive than not.     Eyes narrow as she sights the Space Wolf unit up ahead, ascending slightly on her approach to avoid an accidental shooting, though she does check her rifle briefly as she does so. The absent thought crosses her mind that her fellow Hand is also missing. Count Kord. Though... that's less motivating than further safety for her own life. After all, in a sense, isn't that just competition for advancement?     Above the entrance, as it had been reported, Tanya pulls up, looping into a dive through the center of the hole leading into Lumiere.     On the other side, the miniature Major brings herself to a stop floating above and to one side of Staren. Her hands absently work the action of her rifle, slotting a round into place, "I don't intend to spend too much time in a place that only welcomes the dead. Logic dictates they'd be far too interested in making the living fit in, and I intend to live a very long life." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren nods to the other newcomers. "It's not like that." He explains to Tanya. "The regular dead are just trying to survive. Thing is, there's these dead who've lost all their memories -- the unlit -- and they're something of a rampaging zombie horde that even the other dead are afraid of. This city should be pretty safe, though." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     No zombie hordes meet their arrival. No one attacks them out of nowhere. But Lumiere is rarely so open about its hostilities. It likes to wait. To let people step into the lair of danger just a liiiitle bit further... And then a little more... And another step, until they're just far enough away from the exit that when something finally pounces upon them, their desperately reaching fingers will fall just short of the safety before they are dragged into the darkness. But this, as Staren says, is one of the safest places in an overwhelmingly unsafe world.     The priestess mentioned emerges shortly after they arrive, noticing the light of so many people appearing. She is wearing some sort of unfamiliar religious garb. Though the addition of an opaque veil over her eyes, connected to a coller by golden chains along the bottom edge of said veil, giving the lower half of her face a 'caged' appearance, is pretty distinctive (and unusual, but what isn't unusual about this place?).     "Oh, thank mighty Urizen you arrived!" She hurries out, holding her skirts in her hands and coming down the steps from the chapel. "Staren the Builder. It is good to see you again. And fortuitous that you brought allies." She makes some sort of ritualistic gesture with her hands to the others while bowing her head. "I am Peacemaker Longita, caretaker of the Church of Bleak Mercy, and representative of the Order of the Light here in Barrowville. I have sent out a petition for aid. Many of those I have contacted have failed to respond, and I did not know who else to reach out to."     For those with the senses for it, this woman, Longita, is definitely Dead. A ghost. Or a physically incarnated soul, since this is a sort of afterlife, and ghosts tend to be insubtantial or ethereal mainly in the living world. Otherwise, based purely on visual appearances, she seems as 'normal' and 'alive' as they are likely to find in a world like this. 

:'''{{#var:290|Rebecca Chambers (290)}} has posed:''' "I don't really want to stick around for long either," Rebecca comments to Tanya as well. "Feels to me like someone is trying to draw us into hell unknowingly." She sighs. "Hopefully that's just my being paranoid." Sighing, she reaches to her belt and pulls out her canteen, taking a swig of water before closing it up and returning it to her belt again. "Gotta stay focused, Becky." Just because there's no zombie hordes or attacks doesn't mean Rebecca is feeling at ease at all. In fact, she's extremely on edge right now, but she doesn't go for her Magnum either, since she knows that the priestess wouldn't like it if she approached with a weapon drawn. "I'll trust your judgement," Rebecca says to Staren. "But don't lower your guard either. Anything can change at any moment no matter where you are." Her voice is firm but also understanding of Staren's words, meaning she's not reminding him to keep his guard up but rather just a reminder that you can feel at ease but not too at ease. When the priestess finally arrives, Rebecca breathes a sigh of relief and smiles a little, not despite the fact her wardrobe seems a little bizarre. Given where they are, seeing someone wearing something like that is pretty tame compared to what Rebecca fears might be waiting for them. Indeed, this place may be unusual, but there are different levels of unusualness. Once Longita introduces herself, Rebecca comes to attention and salutes respectfully. "Officer Rebecca Chambers of the Paladins." She lowers her hand but continues to speak. "It is good to see you, Peacemaker Longita. We are hoping that we can offer aid in any way we can." Some might sense that she's Dead, but Rebecca definitely doesn't. Even if she did, though, Rebecca wouldn't mind because she knows not all of the Dead are bad. Or at least this one wouldn't seem that bad. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren's eyes widen slightly behind his visor at the greeting. Despite running around the Multiverse helping people, he's not used to being greeted so eagerly. "Good to see you too! Um... A number of our other allies, who've previously helped with Lumiere, seem to be missing. What's going on that you're seeking aid with?" 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' An afterlife. A very physical afterlife, at that. This explains why Yuna gets the creeps from being here - and a piece of her wonders whether she needs to worry about being 'polluted' spiritually from spending time in a realm of the dead. Still, they don't LOOK terribly undead - not like ghosts or zombies or anything that would normally stand out as Wrong in the normal Multiverse - so Yuna can mostly push that to the back of her mind. At least for now, and while they're in something akin to safe territory. She just ... kind of has to remember where they are. This will be a lot easier all the way around if she doesn't have to spend half of her time either freaking out, or actively struggling NOT to freak out. While Yuna bows to the priestess, the name of her church doesn't exactly put Yuna at ease. And the town is called Barrowville? ... thank the heavens that there are so many familiar faces here. Not just KArian and Staren, but Kotone and Touta and Rebecca; she may not know Tanya, but she waves to the miniscule major all the same when she spots the little blonde girl. Staren seems to know her, so *that's* something. "It's good to meet you, Peacemaker Longita," Yuna says with a relatively friendly smile. "It's not related to your Order, probably, but I'm the Savior of Light back where I'm from; my name's Yuna Kagurazaka. Anyway, I wish the circumstances of our coming were happier ... and yes," she nods, "like Staren says, we're looking for friends of ours who went missing around here. A lot of them in a fairly short span of time. Maybe that's related to the reasons for your petition ... *did* you call Leyanne or Dorian or Finna for aid about this situation? And, well, what can you tell us about what happened, what's been going on lately?" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "Wait, they're missing too?" Staren turns his head to Yuna, surprised. 

:'''{{#var:1102|Kotone Shiomi (1102)}} has posed:''' Kotone bows to the priestess, "Chevalier Kotone Shiomi of the Paladins, here to help if I can." She introduces herself, then takes a step back to allow those who are more familiar with this world to take the lead. She's keeping an eye out on the surroundings, trying to ensure that there's nothing ... interesting going on while they're talking to this priestess. 

:'''{{#var:1143|Touta Konoe (1143)}} has posed:''' While Touta may be a vampire, he doesn't exactly have supernatural senses that tell him what is and what isn't dead. He was once living with a roommate for quite some time without even knowing the guy was a Revenant. Granted they weren't always hanging out but the point still stands. It seemed like everyone at this point was just giving introductions. So it's at this point that he walks towards the front of the group to introduce himself as well. To those who haven't met him before, he honestly looked like a kid in his early teens. The only person who probably seemed younger than him was Tanya, who he stares at for a moment sorta surprised to see someone that young carrying a gun. Though he turns his attention back towards the priestess as he takes the moment to introduce himself as well. "UQ Holder #7, Touta Konoe. I'm not part of any of the factions but I heard that a few of my friends had disappeared all at once so I came to find them. But if you're looking for help too than you can definitely count on me as well." That being said while he couldn't sense she was dead, if Longita was a bit more aware of monsters and creatures of the darkness perhaps she would pick up on something being slightly concerning with the young man before her. He couldn't really be considered...Mortal. 

:'''{{#var:1123|Tanya Degurechaff (1123)}} has posed:'''     Glowing blue eyes swing towards Touta when he stares at her. Despite her age, that is undeniably a military combat uniform..! Those eyes narrow slightly before she swings her withering gaze away from him, towards Staren, "I will remain cautious all the same."     A priestess calling for assistance assaults her attention, now. With a sigh, Tanya lifts her rifle up and points it skyward, resting against her shoulder. Using her thumb, she flips the safety back on, "Asterios. Large man. Horns. The most visually distinctive member of our orgnaization who has been working here." Eyes half-close in thought, "Probably closer to what you are than I am, now that I think about it. When was he last seen?"     Her posture shifts in midair, and the little girl leans forward in a slightly overbearing way, "Because I find it hard to believe you've managed to lose someone that large." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Longita bows her head briefly at each introduction. "I attempted to contact them and was unable to. That others beyond those whom I contacted may have also become drawn into this situation though..." She chews her lower lip a bit, the nervousness she is displaying in contrast to an otherwise calm and serene demeanor that Staren has seen previously. "It might not be possible to avoid it anymore." That is very cryptic and does not answer any questions. "Perhaps you can help with the problem instead." Even more cryptic and now not even addressing the missing people! "I have not seen any of those I sought to contact since the last time they were here. I can not say when they disappeared, only that it may have been around the same time as the issue that now needs resolution." She pauses, and then adds on, "Which may be tied to their disappearances, for that matter."     She seems not surprised in the slightest by the disparate natures and apperances of those here. But considering she's basically blind folded, can she even see them? "Staren the Builder, you are familiar with that odious place known as Escher, yes?" She seems to trust he will explain it to the others, because she proceeds to address a specific aspect of it. "It is said that it was taken over by monsters and isolated from the rest of Lumiere long ago. However, all sorts of information is there. If you have a group this strong, you might be able to fight your way through and search for anything concerning this matter. I have heard it said by our High Matron that there are other Lumieres out there, like this one, but different. It may be possible that they have found themselves in another Lumiere, and unable to return. I recommend investigating anything by the name of 'Emblem' as well."     She gestures to Tanya. "It is unfortunate that your friend is missing, but if he is as strong as you believe, he may yet be found." She bows to the others. "The same for all of you as well. They are all capable souls, I am sure. I may not have personally met them all, but..."     She goes on like that for a little bit. She sure does seem to have some detailed knowledge of a place she has only ever heard of in rumor, and further a phenomenon she has only heard of second-hand, and seems quite assured the Elites are there for no apparent reason, and can even offer a name of what to search for, and also seems to be unaware that Elites have already BEEN to Escher and gained access to its library. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren staaarts to show signs of impatience as Longita beats around the bush. Hands on his hips, just starting to tap his foot, when she adresses him. "Huh? Oh. Yeah, we... You've never talked to Enark?" Staren looks like he starting to think back and check logs, then shakes his head. "Anyway, yeah, we fought our way through the frikking mimics and found Enark and the Library of Murdered Knowledge. It's been flooded and there's some kind of demon fishmen-things in the deep, though, so we've been planning how to more safely find things there. I'll let Enark know... wait, he's not responding to radio either." He stomps a foot. "Dammit!"     Staren starts pacing. "That library is quite possibly infinitely big. How are we going to find the information we need without our librarian?" 

:'''{{#var:290|Rebecca Chambers (290)}} has posed:''' While Rebecca knows little to nothing about how Longita attempted to contact the others, she knows nonetheless that the inability to do so is not a good thing at all. Although she, too, wishes Longita would stop beating around the bush and just get to the point already. Rebecca knows nothing about Escher, but she has a feeling that's all about to change very soon. "I would like to hope so," Rebecca replies to Longita in response to the comment about those who are missing being 'capable souls.' Although, Rebecca's having a bit of difficulty speaking with confidence at this point, since there's so little that she understands about this whole thing and wonders if those who are missing know any more than she does. Despite standing attentively, Rebecca's eyes start to wander a little as she's getting a bit tired of listening to this whole thing. "Are they gonna tell us about Escher?" Rebecca mutters to herself. When Staren asks about the library, Rebecca turns to him and says, "If we don't have our librarian, then the only thing we can do is try to look for it ourselves." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren after a moment thinks to clarify, "The library of murdered knowledge is where anything that was ever known to the world of the living has ended up... I guess it'd normally be any knowledge forgotten or somehow killed, but with no living people left, that's everything... And then there's books that are knowledge that was never discovered in the first place. They're weird..."     He looks to Rebecca. "Oh right... I guess there was more than the library there. Like there was this really deep pit full of unlit... It's just, space was warped like crazy, and connected by doors that make no sense... it's like what's left of the Citadel. So we haven't really explored what's there besides the Library." 

:'''{{#var:1123|Tanya Degurechaff (1123)}} has posed:'''     "He is my Servant," Tanya corrects the Priestess. There's just a bit of an annoyed edge to her tone, though she's clearly trying to keep her voice level. Probably at how much time is wasted with the explanation. Closing her eyes, the girl shifts her rifle and removes the magazine, then ejects the unfired round. This is thumbed back into the clip, and the cleared rifle is slung back over her shoulder as it's become clear she won't be needing it right this moment.     As she works, she speaks.     "Something about this world has consumed my fellow Hand, my Servant, and several of my subordinates. I fail to see how sending us on an errand to a library containing ancient knowledge will assist us in finding the locations of these assets that disappeared within the past few days."     An eye opens, focusing on Longita directly with that glowing blue iris, "I don't appreciate my time being wasted on pointless errands that have nothing to do with why I am here." At least the small officer shifts to a more relaxed posture, resting one hand on the strap of her rifle, the other on the grip of the pistol at her hip, "So I'd appreciate it if you'd provide actually relevant information instead of scattering the seeds of a wild goose chase." 

:'''{{#var:1143|Touta Konoe (1143)}} has posed:''' Touta's still not entirely sure what's going on. Talk of magical libraries is cool and all but it still leaves the group with more questions than answers. To the extent that the blonde-haired girl seems to be implying something that he really hopes a kid her age wouldn't actually imply. Actually, he's heard this voice before. Isn't she always on the comms? Well that could be asked later. For now, Touta takes the moment to step in between Tanya and her line of fire towards Longita. There's no need for threats yet right? "Hey, so I'm still sorta new to this stuff but if there just in another part of the Multiverse, why couldn't we just have one of the factions trace their location? I mean, I get they aren't picking up their comms but I've seen plenty of science and magical people in the Multiverse already. Even if we can't contact them anymore someone could probably find where they were last or something an easier way? That'd be alot quicker than having to take a detour to this library you're talking about wouldn't it?" He's sure if it was that easy someone would have done it already, but he figures he should at least ask. It also be nice to know why the comms werent' working anymore either but he's hoping that if he gives Longita some time to explain herself this time, she'll do so. 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' "So we have to ..." Yuna trails off, thinking over what little they know so far. "... hopefully there's a card catalog or something, a way to find where books are by subject or whatever." Having something like this to work her mind around makes it easier to not dwell on her being in an afterlife. Tanya's attitude, on the other hand - well, the 'dead' can apparently be killed again here. "I don't know who you are or where you're from originally," Yuna says to the blonde girl who's littler than *she* is, "but if she knew where our missing friends were, I'm pretty sure she'd already want to help us find them. They've already been helping Lumiere's people out, from the sound of things. Maybe we'll find some of them if we go to this Escher place, library or whatever it turns out to be, and if not, we might at least find out where they're *going*, or trying to get to." Yuna pauses, chewing over what Staren just said about the 'Library of Murdered Knowledge'. "You know, if we from the living world don't have any idea where our friends went missing, maybe THAT information is in Escher too? But we'll have to look it up fast, because once we know it it's not 'dead' knowledge any more ..." She looks around, shrugging. "It's the best lead *I* can think of that we have, okay?" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren looks at Touta. "The easiest kind of tracking requires them to be using their radio... But in Lumiere, geography is... messed up, so even that might not be reliable. Without the Caverns of Prophecy, the use of scrying or the like requires seeking out a specialist elite with such a capability... It's faster to make at least some effort to look for them first, which is what we're here doing now. But it's certainly on the table."     He looks to Yuna and shakes his head at the question about the card catalog, then oohs at the idea that 'where our friends are' could be in the library. "That's a really good idea!" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Longita smiles nervously as people start asking her questions and fingering their weapons. Staren mentioning details of the Library of Murdered Knowldedge makes her even more nervous. "You have... Already been to Escher? And there was some one still there?" So she was not only unaware that people had gone there, but also appeared to expect that everyone there was gone. "I do not know what else I can say to be of use," she tries to offer to Tanya apologetically. "I have not seen the missing individuals since before I tried to contact them. I am just... Directing you to where you might find help. I mean, information of use. Or so I have heard."     Touta's question makes her even more flustered. "I... You could try that. I would know nothing of what is involved in such a search. Sadly, the Witches of Styx are no more, they were most adept at scrying distant locations and learning hidden truths. But whatever you wish to attempt is of course up to you."     She smiles more brightly as Yuna speaks in favor of the search for information. "Yes, I can only encourage you to do that. That is the only advice I have at the moment." She hesitates, then turns and begins heading towards the chapel. "Please wait here, if you could! I think I need to consult with the High Matron for further instructions. That would be best." 'Further instructions'.     So what she has told them so far, useless or no, was at the direction of another. And now that they are asking her question she can not answer or is not PERMITTED to answer, and have done things or are doing things she was not instructed on how to handle, all she can do is parrot the same advice and go running back to her handler.     Was she or someone she works for responsible for the disappearances, perhaps? Or simply trying to cover them up? But then why send out a call for help in finding them?     Even without knowing about all the history of this place, something is not adding up. The behavior is suspicious no matter how one looks at it. 

:'''{{#var:1123|Tanya Degurechaff (1123)}} has posed:'''     As Longita verbally backsteps, Tanya's eyes start to narrow. When she finally responds, though, it doesn't seem as if she's actually talking to the Priestess at all.     "Lord, give me the strength to protect the Fatherland from the Faithless. Allow me to be the instrument of Your will, and spread Your golden truth throughout the shadows."     As she speaks, the blue glow in the girl's eyes grows unstable, washing out to a vibrant, deific gold. The flight unit strapped to her waist shudders uncomfortably as its gemstone reacts to the change in her magical output.     In a snap, the pistol is out of its holster, lifted, and fired. The shot goes intentionally wide-- over Longita's shoulder, where it detonates against the steps behind her. Moving too fast to create much 'backblast', it instead carves a cone several feet through the stone before the spell stops.     She adjusts her aim immediately.     "I am from a world where lies exist," Tanya states in response to Yuna, though her eyes do not take themselves off the unconvincing priestess, "A world where intimidation, misdirection, and subterfuge decides the fate of nations. If I have any reason to believe I am being manipulated," Her head tilts forward, casting her eyes in shadow-- but that burning golden glow remains, "I will act accordingly."     "Now," she addresses Longita, "Tell me again exactly why sending us to an ancient library we have already been to, which nobody else has been able to visit since ancient times by your own admission aside from a person you did not know about-- and is also missing, is going to provide us with information relevant to finding various persons who disappeared /two days ago/."     By her logic that isn't even enough time to write a book, let alone print it and distribute it. The girl's lips split into a rather predatory expression.     "I've killed my fair share of enemy soldiers. But I've never killed someone who was already dead. I suggest you start talking before I start experiencing." 

:'''{{#var:290|Rebecca Chambers (290)}} has posed:''' "Yes, ma'am," Rebecca replies respectfully to Longita as she heads off. However, as she starts to leave, Rebecca's expression starts to turn negative once again. "Hey, is it me," Rebecca says to no one in particular, "Or did she seems a little odd? I mean, she's telling us a lot of things, but didn't give us any information that we could actually utilize." The medic bites her lip briefly. "Honestly, if I didn't have a bad feeling before, I definitely do now." As Tanya begins to pray or whatever, Rebecca takes notice and watches as Tanya's pistol suddenly draws and then fires, causing Rebecca to jump back a little, as she definitely wasn't expecting that. For a moment, Rebecca is too stunned to do anything but stare in disbelief at what Tanya has just done. "W-what are you..." Rebecca trails off as she realizes Tanya is not interested in listening to anyone but instead speaking to Longita. There's a time for words and there's a time for actions as Rebecca's hand reaches for her holstered Magnum, but she doesn't draw it just yet. Instead, she's preparing herself in case the need for action does arise. Glancing between Longita and Tanya, Rebecca's mouth opens a little to show her gritted teeth while her eyes narrow a little. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     When Longita claims she has nothing else of use, Staren points out, "You could tell us how you know about these 'alternate Lumieres'... even if you don't know anything else about them, the context in which you heard of it could be a clue."     But she's... walking off? "If you think the High Matron could tell us more, then perhaps we should see her directly. No sense wasting time playing telephone through you."     Tanya gets threatening. "Woah woah woah, calm down. She's right that the library contains all knowledge." It hasn't even occured to him that Tanya is thinking in terms of published books. "It's just that searching it for the specific knowledge we need pretty much depends on luck. A more direct course of action would be preferable, but killing one of Lumiere's few friendly faces won't help us any."     If Longita doesn't stop and give a hell of a logical reason they can't see the matron though, he'll just... follow her.     Right behind her, so that it's hard for the others to shoot her. 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' At the incantation and the magically-enhanced gunshot, Yuna is left staring at Tanya. Was that some kind of *holy* magic? Not like Yuna's own powers as the Savior of Light - she wants to think 'not even close,' but ... "Lies exist in worlds other than yours," Yuna says, her voice clear but firm. "And you'll gain us *nothing* if you kill the spokeswoman who's been our only willing contact here so far. Except for Staren, we're all strangers in an unfamiliar world down here, and we need all the help we can get if we're going to find our friends." With that said, Yuna shifts her gaze to the Peacemaker. "It might be faster if your High Matron comes to speak with us, if she's able to. While I may disagree with the girl's attitude ... if our friends are missing and in danger, time *is* of the essence, and I would be extremely unhappy if delays *here* mean that any of our friends die before we can find them." As Yuna speaks to Longita, the subtle, almost subliminal glow of the Light Suit brightens - not so that it's uncomfortable to look at, but its gleam is clearly not just a matter of catching whatever ambient light may be reflecting from its surface. It's not a great difference, either - just enough that the independent glow is noticeable. 

:'''{{#var:1143|Touta Konoe (1143)}} has posed:''' As Longita decides to recede back into the confines of the chapel, Touta had wanted to simply just go inside of the chapel and talk to this Matron directly. But that idea is thrown out as he notices what Tanya does. While the words weren't in Latin, the way she spoke eerily similar to the chanting done in his world when a mage was casting a spell. If it was simply the fact she was in a military uniform and nothing else he probably would have no reason to believe she was some sort of mage, but the fact that she was floating, the glowing of her eyes, and now the chanting. He really wants to believe that this kid is bluffing. Even as she pulls out the pistol he can't help but feel she's overplaying it. "Hey, I get your pissed but that isn't a to-" She fires. She actually pulled the trigger. The shot was wide and clearly meant more to make a statement, but she's still not done as she now points the gun at Longita as she gives her speech. It's at this point Touta's forced to raise his sword as he once again stands in the line of fire between Tanya and Longita. He's not sure if Tanya's bullet could kill Longita, or even the fact that standing in the way of the bullet might be meaningless for Longita, but that didn't mean that he was just going to let her shoot. That being said...He does give Tanya a certain look. It's not one of hostility, at least not yet. He can sorta see where Tanya's coming from. Compared to Yuna and Staren who were willing to wait for the Matron's information, there's no guarantee that they wouldn't be left in the dark again. That being said if Longita was afraid enough to speak the truth there was probably a higher chance that they could get more unfiltered information. Though to say this was a drastic was of doing so was an understatement. "Hey, I know I'm not a priest or anything here but I think you might want to take this time to confess before she decides to take that next shot..." If Tanya's going to play bad cop, he can at least try to play the good cop. Though...If she did try to pull the trigger again, that'll be a whole different situation entirely. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Longita freezes in place when the shot goes over her shoulder. She turns away from the sight of destruction once the spell has done its work on the chapel steps, hands clasped together tightly in front of her chest. Throughout everything Tanya says, she is shaking her head back and forth frantically, even at the threat/promise of being shot to pieces if she doesn't talk. "I ca not!" she blurts out. Then more quietly, she whispers urgently, "She will know I spoke. She will find out!" Apparently more important than being tortured and maybe-killed, is not being caught saying something she shouldn't be. Which indicates she is scared of something worse than either of those things. Or perhaps she does not understand how serious the threat being made is?     "You can not speak to her drectly. She is in Aetheir Cathedral, with the rest of our Order. I need to... To pray for guidance. She will choose whether to contact me at that time." She tries to offer to Yuna and Staren. The blindfold does not appear to protect her from the light shining off of the former. "You will find what you seek in Escher. That is all I was told. Please, I am not supposed to talk about it. It is forbidden. Do not ask me any more questions, I beg of you." She lowers her voice again. "It was a mistake to call for aid in finding them. I should not have done it."     So she DID call for help in finding them. Meaning she knew they were missing. And now has been told to direct people to Escher against her own wishes. She looks over her shoulder, perhaps at the damaged stairs... Or perhaps inside the chapel, at the alter dimly visible at the far end of the aisle, looking very similar to the shrine they used to arrive here. She bites her lip again at Touta's words. She is willing to be hurt herself, or to risk 'dying', perhaps. But she is having a crisis of conscience. "One moment. Just give me one moment, please. I do not wish for... Any further damage to come to chapel. I should close the door before you... Do anything else." She turns to look pleadingly at Touta, Staren, Tanya, Rebecca, and then Yuna.     "I might be able to... Better guide you... When I have some peace of mind concerning the chapel's safety. With the door closed. I have been attendint it for a very long time. To see such a precious place desecrated is surely interfering with my ability to adequately follow my instructions." Her very carefully enunciated words, the theatrical way she is speaking now... She turns her head towards the door, and then back to them. Then herks her head towards the door a few more times meaningfully in case people still do not get it. 

:'''{{#var:1123|Tanya Degurechaff (1123)}} has posed:'''     Tanya finds a Touta in her line of fire. Immediately, the girl snaps, "Are you stupid or something?" though she does lift her luger up and away from him. Barrel discipline! Golden eyes shift to the Priestess' frantic denials. And the obvious fear. Her face sets in a tense mask, a rather serious frown.     After a moment of tolerating Longita's defense and objections, though, Tanya's stern expression suddenly disappears into one of surprise and understanding. Even the sprig of hair sticking off her head seems to straighten, albeight briefly.     Her eyes dart to Staren and she nods towards the door before her gaze returns to Longita. Apparently she's not willing to take her attention off the errant priestess for very long. That's what minions are for. 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' It takes Yuna a moment to 'get it,' too - but then realization dawns on her face. "Staren, hang on. I think you're on the wrong track ..." Tanya's already moving to the chapel door as well, so rather than hurrying over, Yuna just beckons Elner closer, whispering quickly - and then the robo-faerie disappears in a blip of light. Elner would reappear still outside the chapel, but as close to the altar as possible, and actively scanning for electronics or the like. If Longita is worried about the altar spying on her, or the others .... well. It's admittedly not likely that they're doing so electronically, but that's one of the few things Elner can scan for. And it's about as much as Yuna can do with others already moving to deal with the chapel door. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren has a lot to say, but even he can pick up on Longita's signalling. Fine. He approaches the door she indicates moves to go through it.     Apparently he can't pick up on it, actually. 

:'''{{#var:1143|Touta Konoe (1143)}} has posed:''' Thankfully, Touta isn't that stupid. Or well...This could have ended much worse if Tanya recalled who he was. For one reason or another though, Tanya does decide against shooting Longita. With her lowering her weapon, he can ease his shoulders and lower his own weapon as well. Though when she asks him that question he can't help but laugh a little, "I'm probably a little bit of both, honestly." Still, it seemed that Longita wasn't a bad person. More like she was just in a bad spot. If she was telling the truth for trying to ask for help at least. It implied to a certain extent that she got in trouble for the actions she did, but her actions were not in alignment with this Matron's. If anything that made Touta want to hear what she had to say. Though anything they probably would try and do was probably going to be no good in getting her to talk to them about it honestly. Then he notices Tanya acting strange with Longita, did he miss something? Maybe he was stupid afterall, or just oblivious. Then he sees Staren start heading towards the door and seeing as he had been the most well informed, Touta follows him with that same line of thought. Though, when Yuna stops him there, he realizes how stupid he actually is. She wasn't urging them inside! She was urging them to shut the damn door! "Mmmm, if that's the case let's not let a draft in..." With that he kicks the door shut leasurely waiting to hear the sound of it being shut thoroughly. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Longita waits until she is sure the door is closed, and then, though her dead lungs have no need for air, she lets out a shuddering breath she was holding merely out of habit, despite her long stay here. She calms herself as best as she can, clenching her hands in her skirts. She lets out all air again, except what is required to speak. "You may think this more useless information, but it is immediately and intensely relevant to the safety of those who have disappeared. It is also forbidden to speak of. There have been multiple rulers of Lostrata, this part of Lumiere we now stand. Between when the Eternal Prophet, Los, ruled, and when the noble dead took charge in the absence of any king, there was another ruler. I was not yet dead at the time. I did not expire until much later on. But this creature used the manipulation of dreams and memory, and wielded vast power fueled by humanity's own beliefs and fears. Humanity itself created and powered their own prison. However, eventually that being was sealed into a throne somehow, which the future King of Lostrata would sit upon and be corrupted by. It was supposed to have died when some of you outsiders destroyed that same throne recently. Somehow it was released instead."     She waves a hand as if aware that this information may seem like more stalling or boring explanations. "It can not be at full strength yet. Not with so few native Dead left, and not with the recent destruction of its vessel. But it is probably trying to accelerate its return to power by trapping immensely powerful souls like yours, and your allies, in the same prison it used to confine Humanity once before. And the memory or nightmare of that prison, shared by so many, is probably located within Escher or can be accessed from there. I suspect that is why the High Matron wished for me to send you there. You will find what you are looking for there, but you will be in danger of falling victim to the same trap they did if you do not take precautions. Bring with you something from each of the missing. Something they can use as an anchor to this reality. And leave something of your own behind with someone who can serve as YOUR anchor, so that you can find your way back."     She clasps her hands together tighter and lowers herself to her knees. "That is all that I know and all that I can say." 

:'''{{#var:1123|Tanya Degurechaff (1123)}} has posed:'''     As soon as the door is closed, Tanya lowers her pistol. In a practiced series of motions, she ejects the magazine, clears the chamber, thumbs the round back into its slot on the magazine, re-inserts it, and safeties the luger. It's slid into her holster. This is all done while she listens to Longita's more detailed information, and it isn't until the priestess has sunk down that Tanya speaks up.     "So you were charged with sending us to our doom. Your Matron is doubtless under this creature's control. This... Being Y, we'll call it for now, since it doesn't seem to have a name that you're aware of."     Inwardly, she smirks. Yes. You're comparable to this scum crawling through the slime at the bottom of the afterlife, Being X. How does that revelation make you feel?     "Knowing that it is a trap, we can use this to our advantage moving forward. And trap the trappers." With the gun holstered, Tanya props her hand on her hip, looming over Longita with all her tiny majesty, "You're afraid of them. We can protect you. Staren seems fond of you. I won't object to this. But you're afraid of the wrong person."     Her head tilts forward again. With her eyes cast in shadow, the tiny Major's golden irises look all the more intense, "If you have to fear someone, you should fear /me/ and what /I/ will do if this is a double-cross."     Lifting her gaze, she glances to Staren, then Yuna, then Touta in turn. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren gives Touta a 'dude, what the hell?' look... but Longita starts speaking.     Oh. Whatever's listening is on the OTHER side of the door.     "Really? REALLY?!" Staren throws his hands up. "All that and we didn't even DESTROY it?! What's it fuckin' TAKE to actually END someone around here?!"     He strides forward and points at Longina. "'Forbidden to speak of'. If I find out that your order KNEW the creature had survived and didn't tell us, endangering not only us but your world and the Multiverse as well... They're next." He throws up his hands again. "ALTHOUGH MAYBE THEY'LL SURVIVE ANYWAY, WHO KNOWS?" Then back to pointing at Longita. "Keeping things like this secret holds everyone back."     He starts pacing around the room. "These 'anchors'. How do they work? How do they draw our allies, and how can we use them if we ourselves are trapped?" 

:'''{{#var:1143|Touta Konoe (1143)}} has posed:''' Touta is receiving eye daggers from both Tanya AND Staren. If looks could kill...Well, he'd still be alright actually so that doesn't matter. His world is full of powerful lolis. Granted he hasn't seen one with a magical gun, but frankly his experiences make her stare seem less threatening than perhaps she would want it to be. Still he's glad he was right. Longita isn't some evil person. She's just in a bad spot. So as Tanya and Staren make their remarks he walks over to kneeling Longita and sits down beside her putting an arm on her shoulder. "I believe you." The way she expelled her breath, the way she tightened her fist into her skirt, the fact she was practically falling to her knees in prayer. If she was truly lying now she was probably the best actor in the after life. "Don't worry, we'll go to this Escher place or whatever get our friends back, and deal with this evil king too or whatever." Still that didn't feel good enough for Touta. It was one thing to stop this king to get their friends back, but what about the people messing wit Longita. Weren't they more than just this king in Escher? He can't really assure the rest of the factions will help once they bring back the others, but at the very least... "And once we deal with him, if you want I'll go to that Aetheir Cathedral or what not and give that Matron a good piece of my mind too!" He was serious about this too. He fully intended to deal with not only getting his friends back, or even dealing with this evil entity, he was keeping to what he said before. If he could help her, he honestly would. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Longita seems aghast. "A trap? No, certainly not! You--or your allies you seek, at least, have been resolving the problems of Lumiere without being given direct information before. It would... it would interfere with the prophecy of saving Lumiere. We aren't supposed to do that. You are supposed to learn, explore, fight, and solve the issues yourself. If we tell you everything we know, we would alter destiny. Lumiere might NOT be saved. And... And I may have just caused that by speaking to you." She bows her head and prays quietly to herself.     She shakes her head at the threat from Tanya. "There are worse things that suffering. Worse things than dying another time. You have no idea. I can not escape. I must stay here and provide guidance to the Lanterns. I still have a duty to perform, until I am no longer necessary."     She looks up at Staren, eyes as hidden as ever. "The High Matron can see past, present, and future. She may have known the lord of fear would be freed, or not. You, all of you, are a factor that have altered fate many times already. The ripples you create with your actions are unanticipated. If it had been only Lanterns, they might have slain that thing as well. It is their function to destroy souls, a vestige of what they once were." She frowns.     "I do not know the details. The more I tell you, the more I alter what should be. You are supposed to determine it for yourselves. But... I would venture they should be thinks with personal meaning to their owners. Objects with significant emotional context, or a long period of exposure to their presence. These entity uses dreams and memories, and is powered by fear. Positive emotions and possessions with strong memories are best as a result. They are already likely in a place of nightmares and forgetfulness. Please, you must do the rest yourselves. I may be dooming everyone, yourselves included, by using my information. It is even worse because my information is incomplete. If you make the wrong decision, or no decision, or the right decision for the wrong reasons, because you relied on information that was not explicit, it could result in losses for all of us."     Her final words as Touta tries to comfort her, are, "The Order of the Light, and all of us Peacemakers at the Churches of Bleak Mercy, want what is best for the future of Lumiere. It is I who am wrong, and weak, for diverging from the High Matron's plan. Please do not blame her for my inadequacy. If I had done a better job, or not reached out before you came to investigate, this would not have happened. All I had to do was trust in her, but I..." Her voice quavers, and then says, "Just... Be certain that they return safely. That is hopefully what was meant to happen." She then falls silent. She seems to have no more to say, or be unwilling to say any more, even under threat. But now they know what to do. Roughly. Probably best to consult with their allies or coordinate with those who knew the missing. Family, friends, co-workers...     This is shaping up to be a complicated rescue mission. 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' Yuna is too busy listening and thinking to speak up, although she finds herself in profound agreement with Staren about not having been able to obliterate an evil spirit that *really* shouldn't have been hanging around so long after the death of its (his?) original mortal body. Normally, Yuna doesn't like to be a party to suffering or injury or death when they can be avoided ... but given what Longita is saying about the Tyrant of Dreams and Memory, or rather, the Lord of Fear? This is probably not something (or someone) which she would extend that much mercy towards. More to the point, though, she's scraping her memory, trying to come up with suitable items or artifacts which could serve as beacons for the Watch's missing members. A quick query on the Watch's frequency elicits no responses; she'll just have to file a report and hope people who read it can answer - preferably before they set out to find that Throne and rescue their missing members. And all of the others who've gone missing. Somebody - or something - who preys on the souls of others. *That* goes beyond even Yuna's ability to forgive, even setting the other factors aside. "It's not the first time we've had to solve this kind of puzzle to protect our precious and irreplaceable friends," she says. "Thank you for what help you've been able to give us, Peacemaker Longita; I hope we'll be able to fulfill the prophecy, and I hope that your High Matron doesn't get angry at you for your decision to trust in us." Even if the trust was SLIGHTLY coerced ... She pointedly avoids glaring at Tanya, much as a piece of her would like to. She focuses instead on the people here whom she knows - familiar faces, friendly faces, all people she's fought alongside before. Between them, and the captured souls, she's sure they'll find a way to win. And maybe, all together, they'll be able to obliterate the soul of that ancient tyrant where the prior attempt only shattered his vessel. "I'll see what I can find out from my friends," she says to the rest of the group, "but - who else went missing, all told? I mentioned Leyanne, Finna, Dorian; I heard about someone called Empty Tidings, too ..." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "Then we're already off the rails. So it won't matter if you DO tell us more. We never needed a prophecy to save a world before. Session 613 is gone, and we never got a chance to travel back in time and finish it, and yet, save it we apparently did. So even those rules, it seems, are not immutable. You want what is best for Lumiere?" He steps towards her. "In all the billions of years since the overworld died, was there any improvement here? No. Things have been falling apart and everyone's been waiting for some prophecy. And if WE waited for some procphecy instead of handling shit ourselves, that's where you'd STILL be."     "You think we're some kind of special people, chosen by fate? We're not. It's true, not all have the opportunity to change things. Some people are held down until heroes come and save them. Some people are born into disease, and perish before they have a chance. But the people who DO get a chance? They can take it, or they can not. Yeah, I was born into a pretty sweet situation. And I coulda just sat back and enjoyed it. But I didn't. Because I had a sense of fairness. Because I read stories about heroes."     "The only power a prophecy has... is the power everyone who believes in it gives it, by following it instead of doing something else."     "This 'Being Y'? It clearly doesn't care about the prophecy like you do. It's not afraid to act. It saw a chance to take some of us out, and went for it. At least it actually DID something to accomplish its goals, instead of just waiting for someone else to hand it the future on a silver platter. The other me, despite not being a prophecied hero, made a plan to save not just Lumiere but the entire Multiverse. We need to find allies like THAT. What does your order care about more: Lumiere's real future? Or the Prophecy?"     With that, he glares at Longita, turns in place, and walks back towards the shrine. 
}}

5677/Then The Morning Comes (1)

2018-02-08T06:02:37Z

Doctor Doctor:

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/02/02
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=Just another day in Emblem City.
|Cast of Characters=974, 954, 964, 513, 1100, 1154, 774, 6, 1151, 1137
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Another day begins in Emblem city, the same way it always does. The illumination provided by the Temple of Phoebe, turning the night into a spectacle of illumination that seems to come from within the stones themselves, falls second to the blue fire that creeps up over whatever passes for a horizon. In time, that flame will continue to build and ascend in the sky, until the cobalt sun rises up along its usual arc. Right on time, as measured by a great clock and all the timers and watches and other time pieces that are synched up with it (which is all of them), at 00:00:01. From now until 23:59:59, when it falls dark again, and everyone should be at home, and Emblem City stands still for its nightly 'maintenance period', the whole day is open and free. The sky's the limit, figuratively if not literally!     What will today bring? What new thing will people try out? What will be learned and experienced? Who will they meet? What will they accomplish? The noble souls who are the residents of Emblem City have all the time in the world to find out. Maybe even forever.     Huge magical (or maybe holographic?) billboards come to life all over the city, springing up from projectors inset in buildings or that hover in the air, providing information on the newest games, the newest technology, the scores on the latest competitions, recommended reading at the Blue Tower, the weather in various districts and neighborhoods (which will change throughout the day as people decide what type of weather they want over their own home), and more.     Walking up to any of them (or flying to the airborne ones, or teleporting to them, or...) of course allows for more target inquiries, maps, placing orders for things one may desire, and of course there's the same sort of projectors inside any home whose resident desires them!     Defining features of Emblem City certainly includes many conveniences!     Souls awaken from their rest period, ever brief and uneventful, whether it be a magic circle, a cryogenic pod, a hovering bed, or even just a mat on the floor. The appearance doesn't matter. All that matters is everyone starts the day fresh and alert and ready to start the day anew!     What does one expect of a city of dead people, after all? Grogginess? They're not sleeping! Just... Resting. For some reason. Starting at 23:59:59 exactly.     Every day. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Aepicus hates this place.     His soul remembered the challenges of life. How nothing would ever be handed to him, how he had to claw it from the hands of people far more diligent and powerful than him. How he never quite measured up to the skills of craftsmen and scholars and entertainers, and how conquering those very challenges to thrive despite his shortcomings brought him a fulfillment. His wealth provided a metric he could follow, a metric born of skill and luck alike, of an ethical code that kept him feeling strong of will.     Here, everything was handed to him. He would wake up every day, and he would feel no pain or exhaustion from his flawed body. He hadn't the need to eat breakfast or sip coffee to face the day. He had no decisions to make to approach his work throughout his day. He had no horrors or fears to overcome in order to step outside. And it was awful, every second of it. He thought he would feel freedom from the shackles of his everyday struggle, but... No, it made everything worse. The contrast was agonizing. It was like a personal Hell. And so he spent every waking moment looking for a way out, a way to make it interesting.     Of course, he never let this show in his behavior. As the dawn came, he stepped out the front door of his small, unassuming abode. He adjusted his tie, then his glasses, and he began to walk. He catalogued his environment, mentally. He counted the people, watched what they did, and engaged in casual conversations. He had a curt, calm attitude to address others with, and he had the disquieting air of a cold businessman the entire time. His habit of wearing an outfit that made him look like a modern depiction of the Devil was an active choice... he felt out of place here, in this heavenly realm, and he adorned himself accordingly. He held his ability to fly, and used shadows in order to contrast the overly bright and welcoming feeling of the world around him.     "..." He scowled at a billboard briefly as it chimed about the reading selection in the Blue Tower. "Egh. Philosophy," he murmured. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' It's a happy time to be alive--well--so to speak. Not so much alive in the actual /strictest/ sense, after all, but happiness tended to follow the young girl when she became active, 'awakening'. She didn't like having to rest. She liked being /up/ and she never really questioned why. But she did especially enjoy her morning ritual as it were, even if it were wholly unnecessary--the sizzling of bacon and eggs and the smells that aught accompany the cooking of breakfast. It didn't matter if they didn't /need/ it, there was something about the taste, it was... a satisfying experience, yes it was! A little fairy flitted nearby, alighting to her shoulder. "Ah, Titania!" she beamed, the purple-haired young girl cheerful and giggling as it settled there, before the mechanoid-seeming fairy pointed. "Yes, I know. But people still like it. I like it too. It feels... nice, it feels normal." She lifts a finger, lightly patting the winged fairy's head. "After all, we can do good both with this and with what you and I can do in Phoebe's name," she warmly says. It was nice. She didn't have... what it felt like before. The abuse. Fending for herself. Soupi heaved a quick sigh and let a smile light her face up. She'd finish this, and pack the rest of the food as snacks for others when she headed out. Little tastes of a life prior, and once she finished up, she was soon out and about. She wore a sleek little suit that was almost dress-like in some ways. PRAYER had given her a certain power or two, even beyond the strange little technofairy that now flitted off her shoulder and spoke to none save her, now flying in a lazy circle like a halo as she left her home to start the day. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Nico Zangt is a slip of a young woman with fuzzy-white fox ears and a tail, proudly wearing the scholarly robes favored by many who study at the Blue Tower!     She comes skipping out of home and into the streets of Emblem City like a poop in a skillet, melodiously singsonging a big long cry of "BoooooooooooOOoooooooOOOOOOOOOOOooooOoooOOooOooOooooooOOOks!" to match one of the local popular songs. Carefree and strangely defiant of gravity, she bounces along via impossibly light steps, periodically stopping to twirl merrily in place and dramatically pose as if putting on a show in the local theatre!     This ends as she finds herself coming to a halt in Aepicus's shadow.     "Oh, do cheer up! For your sake, may doom and gloom never become contagious."     Nico vault-flips straight over the tall man, coming to land a solid ten feet further down the sidewalk on her path to the Blue Tower. "Now, just how is that next chapter going to go..." The girl strolls along as if the whole world were one big serendipitous mishmash of happenstance, gaze glazed over towards the sky, tapping her right index finger against her cheek... "Must finish that book. Once I see what everyone else is up tooooo[[User:Doctor Doctor|Doctor Doctor]] ([[User talk:Doctor Doctor|talk]])ooooo[[User:Doctor Doctor|Doctor Doctor]] ([[User talk:Doctor Doctor|talk]])!"     Oh dear god, it's a happy-go-lucky scholar with a penchant for storytelling and drama, and she's coming this way! ... or GOING that way... 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne Mace (1100)}} has posed:''' Paird, on the other hand, is quite happy with this place. Upon 'waking', she makes herself a brew, dresses, and then makes her way towards Coeus' workshop. She's got a spring in her step, because today is launch day. Between them they've rebuilt the flying machine more times than they can count, ever chasing the record of the fastest person in Ember. Continuing the very thing which killed her, of course. Chasing the next big innovation in going fast, only to use it flying around the streets and generally irritating everyone else when it's inevitably pushed too far and smashed into something, or someone. Still, it keeps her busy... She nods to Nico and Aepicus. "Morning!" she says cheerfully to the two of them. 

:'''{{#var:1154|Wandering Dog (1154)}} has posed:''' Balences' routine started the same way every day. He woke up, got dressed, and had breakfast with his family, talking about what they'd with their day and how they slept. His son was growing up so big, just like him, and it made Balences excited. Before he'd come to Emblem City, he was pretty sure he never had a family. But actually having one, not being alone, that was something amazing. Finishing breakfast and downing the rest of his orange juice, the man grabbed his bag and his mask off of the mantlepiece, and out the door. His wife simply shouted to 'grab some eggs' as he left. There would be a show today. Balences headed down the road towards the billboard, moving to put in a query. "Alright, let's see..." Before he can send out a reminder for show times, however, Balences turns to watch the foxgirl suddenly leap out and surprise a man, laughing as she twirls. "Hahah! Someone's in a cheerful mood! Good morning! She's right, you know, mister. Mornings like this need to be embraced!" A wave to Paird. "Morning to you!" Putting his hand into his bag, Balences pulls out several flyers, moving to hand them out to Nico, Paird, and Aepicus. They're advertisements for a 'hero show', called 'The Adventures of the Masked Dragon', who seems to be a masked hero who fights monsters. "If you have kids or just enjoy a good show, come on by this afternoon. Tell your friends!" 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Routine. Blessed routine. One might even call it 'sacred'. Gil VI had been living -- well, UNliving actually -- for such, for a very long time. It wasn't exciting. But it didn't have to be. He knew what was in store for him each moment of every day. It filled the moments of the day, gave him something to think about.     Best of all, it kept him from thinking about That One Thing. Regrets were of no use here. No conflict, no warring, no struggle -- what use were regrets? And yet it wouldn't leave him be. Filling every waking moment with SOMETHING kept him from having to dwell on it.     And yet even he had to stop working sometime. Not for tiredness or need of sleep. But even the systems that had been built around them -- systems he helped build and maintain -- needed to maintenance. Pity, really.     He was always up as soon as he could manage, working as soon as he could start. Every day, the gears started turning (figuratively speaking) at exactly the same time. Exactly the same routine every morning. Get up. Dress and groom. Go to work. The dark suit was a familiar feeling, the hairstyle and mustache groomed exactly the same way every day. Boring? Maybe for some. For him it was routine. And routine is sacred.     He tended to favor a silk ascot pinned with a large silver brooch in place of a tie. It was usually the only spot of color in his typical suit. And it made him look distinguished, he thought. And given that he rarely cracked a smile, he needed something going for him in the looks department. Then again, that didn't really matter here, either. Did anything?     Thoughts like that are shaken away as he starts out the door, parcel tucked under one arm. He isn't exactly a beacon of doom and gloom, that's for certain. But he's definitely one of the more serious, quiet sorts. One could tell his emotions more in his eyes than with facial expressions. He will end up passing the same billboard, pausing to look at it. And to note the advertisement of another show. There seems to be a crowd here. Not that he minds.     "Good morning," he offers politely and civily to those assembled here. He has a few things to look at -- the billboard gives information, right? He needs to find out a few things; complaints and requests, maintenance requests, tweaking of functions, et cetera. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Jeci Tsu had had an interesting life for a nobody, but that was long over and honestly she didn't need to be forced to not talk about being dead. Jeci didn't miss the living world too much and kept to a few habits she still enjoyed a few little vices like coffee and something small to eat it was for the enjoyment of it but she hadn't found. She then showered, dressed and made ready to head out. Sure she didn't need to but hey? It was something to do that was her choice, still she she would get into trouble here, as she often did Jeci. To day she lingered a bit cleaning up a few things in her small home. She did feel like something with missing but never figured it out every day, though it was likely those in power would keep an eye on her as she she had a habit of getting into trouble in life, which carried over to her in /death/. Not that she talked about it. She was a short woman who unlike what most of her people who live near her thought? Had not alerterd her appernac she had short cropped red hair and to earth she would be rather hard to pin down ethnicly but her skin was on the palish side with bright icy blue eyes. She's flying herself but not to o high and she pauses for a moment laughing a bit as she moves to buzz Nico. "Morning miss Fox Books!" She looked Aepicous for a moment as she makes the call to come in for a landing. "Hey so all heading out today?" She's not yet spooted Soupi thugh the local ball of super sunshine... 

:'''{{#var:1151|Empty Tidings (1151)}} has posed:''' Eve Ren awakens every morning, heart pounding, wondering who she is. It usually takes a few moments for her to collect herself. Here, in Emblem City, she reminds herself each and every day: you are Eve Ren. You are no one else. There is no job, no target, no objective. You are... .../you/. She looks in a mirror, and her heart stops racing. She breathes, slowly, deeply; clean, cool air in, warm, relieved breath out. She takes in her home, lonely by the standards of many of those who live in paradise, and she smiles to herself. It's hers. No one else's. Her brother is... She frowns, then, just like she does every morning. He isn't here. That's good, too. Her routine isn't much of one. She bathes, dresses, and plucks fruit out of one bowl and a flower out of the other on her way out. By the time she's hit the street, she's eaten the fruit and found a good place to put the flower -- in her hair, usually, and usually it's a little extra contrast to the bright scarlet locks. She runs, then. She likes to feel the wind in her face and the streets disappearing beneath her as she crosses shining bridges from island to island. "The Masked Dragon, huh?" She's slowed down by the time she reaches that particular board and that particular group. "I haven't heard any of his adventures in a while." She adjusts her glasses with her right hand, a false finger touched to them. Eve smiles a little. "What's the fiendish foe this time?" 

:'''{{#var:1137|Asterios (1137)}} has posed:''' Large, whose name adequately describes approximately everything about him, wakes promptly at the exact time he has awoken for just about as long as anyone can remember. Morning routine executed as ever it has been, the behemoth of a man immediately got down to the work of the day. Even in a city of the dead, there was need for architects. Enormous, sinuous limbs barely contained within a neat assortment of denim and flannel make their way down he thoroughfare. The massive figure balanced on those appropriately gigantic legs casts a shadow far larger than he or anyone at all honestly should be capable of. The reason is abundantly obvious for anyone who cares to glance up. As he has done every day, the giant has brought his own materials to work for the day. Only a fraction of that involves the rolls of blueprints tucked neatly under an arm, the previous night obviously spent hard at work at marking them up, making sure every single measurement was just /right./ The rest consists of a pile of lumber and stone secured atop his broad shoulders. "Mmn?" The big man pauses at the assemblage of peers. Good morning, everyone. It's another clear sky today." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The Selenes are out in force. Is it Selenes or Selene when referring to more than one? TECHNICALLY THE LATTER but NOBODY CARES ABOUT UNDERWORLD GRAMMAR so many people, especially English speakers, just tack on an s regardless. The Selenes don't appear to be compelled to correct them. Regardless of their appearance, they all have little touches to make it clear they are artificial. No matter how masterfully-sculpted, how human-looking, there's always something that stands out. Pupils of a solid reflective material, for example. A mechanical seam along their jawline, almost like a puppet. Robotic joints. A synthetic, echoing voice. Openly exposed internal machinery.     They are everywhre, performing labor, acting as 'family' to those who do not have other souls to serve the role, or friends, or lovers, or rivals for those who want some sort of competition to give their afterlives meaning. They're placeholders. Stand-ins.     All there to make an undying existence easier, and fill the time until the day when those whose requests for reincarnation have gone through the system. There's supposedly a long wait, or so it is said, though so far there's only been... What? A few days? A few weeks? A month at most? It can't be that much time that has passed. Not yet. Some may have only submitted their ticket this very day.     Though it is odd, then, that it can sometimes seem as though it was submitted long ago. But it's the afterlife! It's hard to keep track of what day it is when every day is so similar, and yet has the potential to be so different!     As people leave their homes and start milling out into the streets, or taking to the skies, or simply blinking out of existence to get to their destination all that much faster, or taking long strolls along the bridges, looking down into the deep foggy mists far below, beneath even the many layers of island-cities and island-towns hanging over nothing, the noise levels increases gradually.     Selenes come to life performing their roles, providing automatic greetings, pre-recorded lines of dialogue, comforting familiarity and normality. 'Selling' their free wares, superfluous currency minted with crowns and hearts on each side to be used simply to give the Dead something to spend. Utterly valueless. A placebo for the wealth-minded. Of course, it also gives those souls who labor to produce wares and wish to be rewarded monetarily something in return, and both other souls and Selenes accomodate them. Just as valuelessly, beyond any emotional importance.     Yes, everything is nice and peaceful. New expansions to Emblem City are always needed as more souls arrive, or people want new structures. And of course, in such an expansive place, there are things that require adjustment. Not everything can be handled during nightly maintenance. It only lasts a second after all!     So craftsmen and manual workers who want to create, to build, to repair and control, have plenty to do each day.     In fact, it looks like one of the flying billboards is displaying... Static? How odd. It shouldn't do that. For a moment it almost looks like there's a man's face in the static. Something that will surely be attended to soon. In the meanwhile, nearby Selenes crowd in front of it and start up a loud conversation, blocking view of it. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Aepicus is accosted by the happiness of that scholarly fox girl. He doesn't seem to react beyond a turn of his head, watching her land as if he anticipated exactly where that'd happen. He was never easy to startle, and the way his brows lifted suggested, perhaps, that it didn't bother him as much as it would someone else.     "Mmh," he replies to her cheer with his usual apathy, and turns his head to regard something being held out toward him. His hand, with mechanical precision, retrieves the flyer that Balences, and lifts his other hand to wave to Paird. He feigns a smile -- it never seems genuine coming from him -- and regards the flyer with more interest than anything else. When it's another soul organizing something, it always felt more... 'correct.' But then he lifted his head and scouted around, ignoring other input. This behavior comes from an oddity he spots that immediately robs him of focus on anything but this.     Aepicus approaches the billboard and tries to get a closer look to it, flying off the ground with a small push of his feet. He approaches and halts before it, and even reaches out to try to touch its surface. Its odd appearance was a crack in the veneer of this place, an oddity in an otherwise perfect afterlife. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Familiar faces in all the familiar places causes the young girl to beam just so. Violet hair is ruffled slightly by the wind, sometimes by the mechafairy who leaves little trails of light behind her as she sometimes simply sets herself on the girl's head. "Hello Gil! Glad to see you! I made muffins today!" They're actually blueberry muffins, freshly made and still a bit warm, just right for that taste as she reaches into the case she had brought along with her. She hadn't seen some of the others, like Balence, or Jeci. She'll spot them eventually, no doubt. Though, once she's had a chance to impart the joy of freshly baked goods to Gil, she spots someone who is in desire need of good cheer. Try not to imagine someone laser locking onto their target: +_+ "Ooh, excuse me Mr. Gil, someone's needing a little pick me up!" she offers as a reason for her sudden reason for her abrupt change in attention, the fairy Titania on her head practically bolting over to where the man was walking, buzzing around his head once as a kind of preamble to the young girl making her way over--faster? Than it should be--but she was there to begin with. Or not. It's a weird thing, like that static and the Selenes all abuzz. Or Selene. Hmmmn. It didn't matter! Probably. But she was beaming up at the taller man. "You look like you could use a muffin. At least something to take that frown off your face, Mr. Aepicus." Soupi smiled a cheerful little smile, proffering up another one of those sweetly smelling muffins as she had Gil not moments ago. Totally not inadvertently trying to distract him from this wonderful life. 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne Mace (1100)}} has posed:''' Paird looks over at the Selene nearby, blinking. Red dust on the face of one of them stirrs the faintest ghost of a memory, a briefly quizzical look crossing her face before she forgets it, distracted by Large's approach. "It is!" She agrees. "Perfect flying weather. If this holds by the time Coeus wakes up we should be airborne by lunchtime." She grins, cheerfully. She's about to say more when she spots the crowd of Selene around the screen. "Look at that." She says. "One of the screens is on the blink. It's got the Selene all in a tizzy, it's like they can't decide what to do about it." She watches the Selene street theatre - and what she can see of the screen - while slowly being drawn towards the smell of blueberry muffins, unconsciously. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Jeci Tsu has not even bothered to submit her ticket yet she was happy she could do what she did in life and more she had powers and wasn't useless here. Why would she want to go back, someday she will but for now she was content at least for herself to explore and learn. She looks to Aepicus for a moment as he seems to be looking at something? She watches static for a moment staring. "The Selene are all bothered here just ... what's going on here?" She does eye the muffins from Soupi, who has muffins. She would be interested in going to get them and she moves to her going "Do you have muffins but ... just /what/ is that?" She looks back to the thing that the resident grumpy pants is looking at. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "Ba~len~ces!~" Nico sing-songs out the man's name with the same carefree manner of a bird chirping at dawn! Giving NO thought to Aepicus ignoring her. Even his dourness can't suppress how quickly her tail's wag-wag-wagging up a storm.     She aims a happy little wave for Jeci, eartips wiggling once at the nickname... but her attention's focused largely on Balences.     "Always in a good mood! Especially for a show!" With a blur of motion she ZIP-SNATCHES up an offered flyer and holds it up close to her face, growing giggly with anticipation.     Just like that, Nico raises a hand and starts striking heroic poses straight out of some kind of cheap sentai production, flyer still clutched in her hand!     "Oooooh... have to see the new one. Oogh, do I have enough time to get in my studies firs--"     The distant billboard flickering catches her eye. of course EVERYTHING seems to get this girl's full attention immediately. "Huh?"     Brows furrow quizzically and she hades her eyes with a hand and leans closer as if to get a better look at the distant display... 

:'''{{#var:1137|Asterios (1137)}} has posed:''' What is with the afterlife and being so full of people who are all too chipper? Though it is somewhat hard to complain about being where they are; after all, everything is being provided for while they wait for the bureaucracy to spin its wheels. Though one can't help but wonder if something is perhaps... missing. Large blinks as the Selene begin to crowd around that... malfunctioning screen? Hm. That's not supposed to happen. Malfunctions should all be taken care of during the overnight maintenance, shouldn't they? Fortunately, Large is... very Large. He has a perfect vantage point from which to peer inquisitively over the heads of the assembled dolls and into the haze of static dancing across the screen. How odd. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Gil has a small smile for Soupi and the muffins. He will indeed take the offered muffin. "Thank you," he offers in return. The mention of someone in need of cheer gets... oddly, a thoughtful look. A satisfied look, as though one is seeing the fruition of something that one has worked at for a long time. "Of course. Please do your best."     Of course this malfunctioning board will get Gil's attention immediately. That's not supposed to happen. Those billboards are needed, and not just for the obvious purposes. He casts a glance in the direction of the workshop. This will probably get logged, and he can look at the information later. For now... repair. He turns his attention back to the assembled crowd of souls. "Please pardon me. Do have a wonderful day, won't you?" He bows politely, and then heads over to the static'd billboard.     He'll just ignore that man's face. Surely that was a trick of the light. Or it was trying to show a spokesman for a product before it went to static. That's all.     The Selenes should let him past -- he works on these devices regularly, after all. And there's probably a maintenance hatch to get to the inner workings somewhere. There's a frown on his face, one that's only partly of concentration. Diagnostic equipment... he should have that with him. Plug into the billboard's systems, run diagnostic -- Gil is eager to get this up and running.     He notes Aepicus getting near the malfunctioning billboard, and fights down a flash of panic. However, he pastes a smile on his face. This one looks particularly plastic, since Gil isn't generally one to smile often. "Nothing to worry about," he assures the other man. "Just a flicker of a frozen image, that's all. It will be fixed in no time. Please don't touch, you may experience a shock when it comes back online."     He offers that same look to Paird. "Not to worry," he assures her as well. "It'll be fixed momentarily. Terribly sorry for the disruption."     He turns his attention back to the diagnostic equipment. Hopefully he's right, and this will be repaired soon... 

:'''{{#var:1154|Wandering Dog (1154)}} has posed:''' "That's a shame, Eve Ren. Well, this one'll be good! It's THE MASKED DRAGON versus...the WINGED BRICKTIGER!" Balences makes a dramatic pose at Eve Ren, and then poses alongside Nico, grinning at her in recognition, as she starts making them. Large gets a wave. "Hey, big guy. What are you working on today?" As he and others show up, the show flyers are handed out to them, as the screen goes on the fritz. Balences looks up at the billboard, sighs, and then suddenly calls out to Aepicus as he heads out to fly to it. "Hey, wait! They're probably trying to repair that, you might not want to get too close!" The performer moves to try and catch up with him, stopping near the Selenes as he does so. They're not supposed to poke the hornets nest...but, he could atleast ask politely, right? "Did something happen over here, Selenes? This is a pretty big crowd!" 

:'''{{#var:1151|Empty Tidings (1151)}} has posed:''' Eve's smile gets brighter. She takes a flyer, looking it over and then tucking it into a practically invisible pocket on her jacket. "Well, I'll have to make some time to see it! Is..." The screen suddenly arrests her attention. Her smile fades away, turning to a little frown. She definitely caught the glimpse of someone's face. Is someone messing with the system? "You would think that there wouldn't be malfunctions like that in a place like this," Eve says to no one in particular. She drifts a couple steps after Aepicus before she stops, realizing the Selene contingent aren't going to take that lightly. So, instead, she turns to the biggest person around -- that'd be Large, of course -- and climbs him like a tree. She's getting up to shoulder level and using him as a vantage point to see what happens next. "Don't mind me," she says, her voice perfectly polite. 

:'''{{#var:1137|Asterios (1137)}} has posed:''' It's okay, Large is very Large and can lift approximately damn near anything. One woman won't keel him over so easy. "Don't worry," the big man says cheerfully as he's so rudely clambered all over. "I'm fine. Just be careful. Lots of stuff up there." Beat. "Mmn, just the usual," Large answers to the playful performer. "You know how it is. Always things to put up. I think today is a school?" Or was it a fire department? Or... Hm. Well, whatever. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     As people start closing in, other souls also remain in the areas as on-lookers. It's so unusual that it draws everyone's attention, it seems. Even those who wish people would just move along and not get them involved. The Selenes respond to those trying to push through by closing their ranks tighter and turning with glassy, emotionless eyes and fixed expressions to face them.     "Everything is fine, Resident. How are you today?" one answers the inquiry of what's going on. It's not even acknowledging the display.     As Aepicus tries to float in, closer and closer, moments from touching it, even as Gil is allowed through almost... Grudgingly, right as the warning about an electric shock is called out and there's an almost-tangible energy that seems to hum from the projection...     A Selene driving a long line of containers attached to a hover vehicle of some sort passes right in front of him, nearly 'running him over' in mid-air as it forces its way between the businessman and the display. "Please clear the way. Important cargo, coming through." the automaton announces cheerily and synthetically, a line of what must be several dozens cargo containers drifting along behind it.     Weird that it had to drive through right here. Probably a complete and total coincidence.     It's a busy place, after all. Have to detour sometimes so as not to get in the way of people's business.     Likewise, Large's view, momentarily of a vague, shadowy silhouette, or maybe just the random pattern of pixels that happened to trick the eyes momentarily, it obscured in the same fashion. And the tighter ranks prevent those trying to sneak through from getting any closer. They seem a bit less friendly as they either toss out brief lines like, "That sounds like a very interesting show, Mister Masked Dragon. I will attend the spectacle!" and "Your muffins look consumable. Do you accept Currency?" and "The Workshop just reported a new upgrade is available for Aerial Travel Vehicle. It is worth checking out!" and similar very topical and personally-relevant bits of dialogue.     As Gil starts checking out the projector rod, he may find that it appears someone has pried open a panel. Or perhaps it came off accidentally... Somehow. Either way, some wires are a little bit out of place, and this is delicate equipment, so moving them back to where they should be is probably perfectly sufficient.     No issue here.     Eve's position, and that of any who fly, or do acrobatic leaps through the air, or what not, and probably Large as well, is such that they may be able to make out a figure in a hood sneaking across a rooftop nearby, moving quickly but stealthily, trying to escape. Were they responsible for this... Sabotage!? 

:'''{{#var:1151|Empty Tidings (1151)}} has posed:''' "I will be, don't worry! Thank you!" Eve sounds friendly and chipper while she's avoiding getting incidentally bludgeoned by construction materials. She stays up there for maybe a minute as she watches it all go down. Things start to get hectic. Still frowning, Eve starts to descend -- and then spots something in the distance, moving quickly away from the scene of the... is it even a crime? Is crime a thing? Eve can think of an island where being a sneaky thief is sort of the way you deal with things; it's the local theme. She slithers back down, patting Large on the leg. "Thanks again," she says, the redhead flashing him a quick smile, and then backing away from the group. She waves, calling, "I'll definitely be there for the show," and then turning and running off away from the Selene blockade and increasing interference. After the runner, of course. Nobody runs away for no reason. It turns out that she was light on her feet in life, and didn't forget that when she died, even if she can't quite... remember... Eve squeezes her eyes shut for a second, then opens them, vaults a hot dog in a hurry, and starts ascending a building via fire escape. She's going up after them. 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne Mace (1100)}} has posed:''' Paird shrugs a little at then looks up at Eve "So did you see anything interesting? You have-" She asks, before cutting off as Eve makes a break for it, catching a glimpse of the hooded figure. She looks at Large, "Did you... never mind." With that she runs for the workshop. Throwing open the doors, she hauls the tarpaulins off the flying machine, cranking it into life and staring to prime the launch mechanisms. Perhaps she can get up there and help somehow... 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Everything is fine? What next is everything under control? Tsu does not know but she seems curious it's just how she is does it seem that someone might be in trouble here. The Selens seem to be trying to clean up the mess of whatever this is then the cargo is coming and she seems to be /very/ interested in what's going on she won't get in the way she tries to not get distracted by the robots? Well that's what she thinks the Selene are. Robots of some sort but Jeci? Is maybe too curious for her own good? Has her trying to figure out just what's going on here? The Masked Dragon does also get her attention but the Selene are piling in. She'll try to get a better vantage as she can fly, so up she goes to try and get a flying view of what's going, this will totally get her into trouble and does she care? Hell no. "Up up and away!" 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Aepicus slips backward so he doesn't get hit by an actual train by the Selene responsible for that. He doesn't stick so close to the sign after that, and spends a moment fixing his glasses and his hair, and then his coat... "Watch where you're going," he complains, despite knowing they were doing that to keep him away from the oddity.     While his eyes focus on what Gil is doing back there, as little as he can see of the guy past the strange robots. His head turns when he notices some movement, and watches Eve take off after a figure. He sniffs and breathes a sigh, and flits off through the air.     Titania gets swatted at, as if the fairy was just an insect buzzing around his head. He isn't trying to hit her -- the Selene will immediately deal with him if he does that -- and more just being dismissive. He decides to follow after Eve in her pursuit, but his pace keeps him well behind the both of them. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     The reluctance of the Selenes isn't even registered; the billboard needs fixing. It MUST be fixed! Though as he finds out what the problem is, Gil breathes a sigh of relief. The damage is minor, and easily repaired.     Tools are retrieved, small things that can move the displaced wires back into their proper places. And probably also protect him from shock; it's likely a good bit of the small maintenance of this sort is done without taking the billboards offline. That would be a lot of mess and hassle for something tiny. And the billboards have to function with as much uptime as possible.     More confident now, Gil begins to move the wires back into place, carefully fastening them back where they're supposed to be, and then re-fastening the cover in place. "There. That should do it," he announces. It's just as much to reassure himself as to assure anyone listening. And he runs through the diagnostic again, to make certain that there's no more issues with the billboard.     The thought of sabotage doesn't even enter his mind. No one could want to break this idyllic world. And he doesn't see the retreating figure. "Just some loose wires," he announces. He steps away from the now-closed panel to check the status of the billboard. Is it working now?     It's only then that he notices that people are starting to head off in a specific direction. He frowns, the expression a mere frisson of confusion across his stoic features. Might there be something there? He's grateful for the distraction, but... it seems odd. So he leaves the ground as well, with a thought, and starts in that direction as well. 

:'''{{#var:1154|Wandering Dog (1154)}} has posed:''' While the various people saying they'll attend to his show is great, Balences is more distracted by everyone running off. Eve's heading somewhere, Aepicus is flying after him, the others are moving too...they're not supposed to investigate this sort of stuff. Just allow the Selenes to handle it, that's always been how it is. Though... Though if something's going on, Balences can't resist. He always wanted a life of action, a life of heroics. And if everyone, some of whom he considers good neighbors, is running off? He can't just leave them behind. If the Selenes ask, he'll say he was worried about them. It's not a lie, after all. Clutching his mask tight in hand, Balences sighs, and makes the decision, running down the street in Eve's direction. He's not superhuman, or anything special, but something inside him feels he can't just ignore this. A drive for something tells Balences he can't just wait here and pretend everything's normal. "Hey, wait up! Running like this isn't safe!" He'll cut through alleys and streets, trying not to lose Eve's trail, watching her as she ascends the buildings. Aepicus, being in the air, is a good thing to eye to keep track of the chase. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' "I do! I made plenty of them!" Soupi beams when it comes to the questions about her delicious blueberry muffins she had made! She has the container for them being held thanks to a shoulder strap, and she can reach in the side, or open a lid for them to be plucked free from. And of course, a handy little side-satchel type thing to accept Currency as is wanted. That said, her attention, at least for the most part is seemingly on Aepicus. Her eyes may flit at times to what others are saying, the curiousness with things not working as they should. That said, being thoroughly ignored is enough to get her furtively looking towards both the people who've gathered near her, and some of the others--she hands out and acquires lovely Currency for her sale of muffins at least while Titania makes some weirdly /pulsing/ noise at Aepicus for being all dismissive. Coupled with others starting to move towards that... /something/ that was up there, she /almost/ frowns. Almost. It's more of a stepford smiler moment as she realizes that people won't be contented. The fact is, that somene might actually be doing something of an ill will wins over the gregarious young girl. And then she disappears. She reappears again, a slight pulse from having gone somehow invisible and either shifted or phased up to a rooftop. The sudden change, still smiling, the fairy Titania rejoining her--but now no longer the size of a fairy--but the size of a humanoid in normal, her wings still outstretched around her as she arrives and changes size. Looking to Soupi for direction. "Yes, let's see what's going on. Everyone else is curious, perhaps we can do some good as Phoebe would!" she proudly says towards her robotic companion. Still, she and Titania would have to follow the others, the girl blinking across to catch up, the fairy shrinking back down in pursuit for the purposes of speed. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' At first, Nico Zangt wasn't going to bother with the matter of the Billboard. But the strange pile of Selene that cover it and the cargo truck from nowhere bring a naughty little look of bubbling curiosity to her face.     Just as she's readying to leap all the way over yonder and check it out though (those pointy ears of hers are more than enough to pick up the discussion!) half the people start chasing off in another direction?!     "Hyah?! Don't leave me behind!" And on principle alone she takes a flying leap up onto the buildings to chase along with the others! 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Around the same time that many people take off after the fleeing figure, others run after those who are giving chase of someone they didn't personally see, driven by some... Impulse. Some desire to do something they know they PROBABLY shouldn't be doing, but are doing anyway... However they explain it to themselves, they all just take off like a horde of lemmings, chasing what might be unpleasant consequences for them with all their fervor.     The figure leaps from one rooftop to the next, even the ones that are far apart. It clearly possesses superhuman agility and strength, though that is scarcely odd here. Nothing to raise an eyebrow at. Even the fact that it is moving from roof to roof in such a manner isn't totally odd. There's people who enjoy parkour after all!     The Selenes by the billboard to not interfere, remaining until Gil finishes his repairs, and then suddenly dispersing. The crowd that had gathered, some of them floating up to see what's going on with the chase as well, think better of it when the ubiquitous doll-people begin moving out into the crowd, in closer range to snag an arm and lead them back on their errands, or to engage them in conversation, or ask if they need help with something.     Whether by flight, by leaping, by teleportation, or by a potential incoming flying machine, if they are pursuers, curious people just seeing what's up, those fulfilling some long-held wish, or souls just... Going after it for reasons they can not fully articulate... The figure stops when it notices them coming, seeming to hesitate, looking this way and that, as if uncertain whether to continue running or not. If they aren't doing anything wrong, they should wait and see what all these people coming at them is about, right?     But then Selenes coming pouring up over the sides of the building, leaping from street level or other bridges with their own superhuman abilities. Some of them are down on all fours, their joints reversing in some manner that they can run along on hands and feet like four-limbed spiders. They all converge on the figure in the hoodie. Selenes don't do this kind of thing unless the person in question has done something wrong.     "Please stay where you are." "Running is dangerous here." "Your temperament requires soothing." and other phrases are uttered in a chorus of synthetic voices that overlap each other. Right as they are about to leap upon and restrain the hoodie-wearing figure, it leaps high, high, HIGH and lands on another island. Not an impossible feat. Not necessarily uncommon.     But nothing about this situation is 'usual'. The Selenes usually seize someone before they even know what's happening. Coeus is said to be watching all the time. Someone like this, if they actually did something wrong, would have been stopped the moment they did it, not after they had done their damage and started to flee.     Nothing about this is 'usual'. At all.     As the figure lands on a distant rooftop, it then drops down off the edge into the space between two buildings, apparently trying to slip away, while back at the point they leapt from, Selenes try to sort themselves out after colliding with and piling on top of each other, missing their target.     This has gone from mild curiousity to something much more.     At the same time, there is a sudden proliferation of vehicles moving through the air, trying to make flying and line-of-sight teleportation and even super jumoing as much of an obstacle as possible. No, wait, why would they be doing that on purpose? Unless... Well, the obvious answer is they want to keep everyone away from this person, whomever they are. Perhaps with good reason? What if they're... Dangerous!?     It's still possible to fly, to run, to leap, to teleportation. But it requires a dedicated effort to get around and through, to keep up what is definitely now a chase scene! 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Here it is. A challenge.     But there are too many people involved. Aepicus notes everyone that seemed to chase after the figure in the hoodie. He looks at those that picked up on the commotion, and the way the Selene seemed to surge toward the mystery stranger the moment their attention was drawn to them... but not before. The red-haired man comes in for a landing after he takes in who they are, and deems a chase too much of a risk to participate in himself. Not with so many people likely to get piled on by the Selenes.     "Later," he resolves to himself, making a mental note to speak to each bold individual once all this quiets down. If they find anything of note, they may be willing to help.     For now, he redirects his attention to the Blue Tower, landing on the road and just walking in that direction. 

:'''{{#var:1151|Empty Tidings (1151)}} has posed:''' Eve waves back over her shoulder. "It's fine! I'm --" She weaves around a couple out on a stroll, having to twist around and jog backwards for a couple seconds. She waves again, the filigree on her artificial hand glinting in the morning sunlight. "It'll be fine! Don't worry!" She tries to smile reassuringly. It doesn't really help. She's up on the building, now. She follows the figure, taking off like a shot. The red-haired woman darts across the roof and takes the leap off of it, legs flailing seemingly wildly. She hits the far roof and drops into an obviously-practiced forward roll, coming to her feet smoothly and without losing hardly any momentum. There's a feeling of the thrill of the chase, for her; it comes from her living days, where this sort of thing usually followed an operation going wrong. It makes her feel alive. Here, now... that's rare. She holds that tightly. The joy of it lights up her face. Then, the Selenes rise up, swarming the rooftop. They come at the fleeing figure en masse, trying to hold it. Eve Ren pours on the speed, rushing right at the group of them as she sees the figure shift, about to move... The figure leaps. Selenes get tossed off like ragdolls. Without thinking, Eve leaps into the air. She plants her feet against the first of the Selenes and pushes downward, propelling herself to greater heights. She rockets upwards, grasping a second in mid-flight that tries to say something to her. Her artificial hand glints in the sunlight, glovelike skin creaking, and she rotates the both of them in the air before slingshotting herself after her quarry -- and slamming into a passing car. She hits the door and digs her fingers in, body rotating and feet swinging up to its rooftop as she peels the frame up incidentally. She jumps again, climbing up the next, and again, higher and higher, just as fast -- Eve scrambles up onto the island the figure landed on. She follows it from roof to roof, skidding to a halt only when she gets inside earshot. "Why are you running?!" she demands, more irritated by the interference than the actual act. She feels a bit sore, now... but she feels good. The filligree silouette of Phoebe on the back of her hand seems to smile. It's probably an optical illusion. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' "Hmm..." Soupi was momentarily pensive. On the one hand, she felt like she should let the Selene deal with this, as she could go down back and talk with people, maybe about food. But on the other hand, she could set a good example here. From what Titania had told her, in her mind, there was a reason this one was being pursued. She exhaled slightly, and then closed her eyes--vanishing again. Titania swept forward, keeping a fairy's eye view. The smaller figure still found it harder to actually progress through, but her size might help Soupi guide her short ranged little phased teleports. It might help, and she focuses a little on her 'blinks' around and through, doing her best not to actually interfere with the Selene. On the other hand... there was something that gnawed at her, drove her to see who this person in the hoodie was, and maybe she might be able to impede their progress enough for the Selene to help! After all, that Eve person--she thinks she recognizes her from around? At some point, she seems to just pop out of midair--and that's when the fairy Titania quickly changes size, to catch her and continue her flight. "Please tell us, yes! We're only here to help!" she cheerfully calls out after the hoodie'd person. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Something doesn't feel right to Jeci about this. this isn't fair someone is clearly being dog piled this won't do. She has made up her mind to try and go after this. She's going to get into trouble and she's going to have to focus here to keep in the air and not hit anything she's too curious for her own good and honestly they are seriously dogpiling that person it ain't right to her so Jeci presses on with all the skill she can muster. Much like some of the others she'll call out to the runner if she gets close enough. "Hey what's going on it's not fair of them to dog pile you like that! Do you need any help?!" 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Between them and the hooded figure now, there are Selenes here. Gil... he has always sought the soothing. It keeps his mind off of things in the past that he could not change... things he would rather not speak of, things about his life amongst the living that he has told no one here. The desire to forget anything like this happened, it's there. It would be easy. Let go. Surrender. Be led away for the soothing of his temperament, and then go on about his time here. It's none of his business, is it?     Something inside his heart stirs, something alien and yet... familar. A voice not his own, scoffing at this stance of inaction. And something else stirs in his mind -- a memory that is still alien but... closer somehow. That word -- 'inaction'. It rubs a sore spot in his heart long ago forgotten. And as he looks out over the Selenes, and the sudden uptick of air traffic for unknown reasons, that memory from his time among the living aches.     Inaction.     The word strikes his heart like a solid punch. He speaks it, on little more than a puff of breath, as if speaking it would get the word out of his heart. "...Inaction." It does nothing but leave a foul taste in his mouth. Hearing it with his own ears makes it all the more real, and it settles over his heart like a weight. Soothing. Inaction. Impulses war in his heart, along with something along the sides of his consciousness, something just out of sight. Something that is familiar but that he can't quite place. Something outside this all. For a moment, he can almost recall...     ...And then it's gone, leaving behind the lingering memory of the memory of cheap alcohol and scathing wit. And no small amount of disapproval.     By the time he's back to himself, Aepicus is moving away. Gil looks again. That's a lot of attention up there, between them and the hooded figure. It wouldn't leave much time to talk to the hooded figure. And he wants to know if this has anything to do with the billboard malfunction. But it would be damn near impossible with all this attention. Besides that, Gil himself doesn't want to end up getting detained.     Ultimately he comes up with the same idea as Aepicus -- the trail is too hot, he needs to wait until it cools off. So he gives that plastic smile again, this time aimed at the Selenes. "Just wanting to tell the stranger to be more careful," he offers. "I do have a great deal of work to get to." The Selenes aren't stupid, he knows, but hopefully that will placate them for now, by mentioning the thing that has been the focus of his unlife here -- his tireless work.     Like Aepicus, he redirects his flight back down, landing upon the ground lightly. He straightens his lapels, then the hem of his jacket, then the cuffs of his sleeves, possibly displaced by the unplanned flight. There will be time to find out when things aren't quite so intense. There are surely less drastic ways of getting in contact with the hooded figure. Ways that don't include them being detained. Gil is bright, he'll figure out a way to make contact. 

:'''{{#var:1154|Wandering Dog (1154)}} has posed:''' As they get closer and the person stops, Balences finally gets a look at what they're chasing. A person in a hoodie? Part of him wants to assist in questioning the guy, but...but he can't. He might have a heart of adventure, but Balences has a family to think about. So Balences won't. He considers, briefly, wrapping the mask around his eyes and having the Masked Dragon do it instead, but they'd know it's him. So instead, he shouts to the group ahead, especially as he sees the Selenes coming. They have to be being watched. If Balences gets a chance to get close to anyone, like Eve Ren, he'll try to shout out to them. "Turn back. This isn't worth getting in trouble for!" No, he might have a heart for adventure...but he's not a real hero. He's just an entertainer. Balences turns back, heading through the streets and moving through them towards his destination - the grocery store. If he drops out now, everything will be fine, right? 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Seeing the Selenes acting so focused and agitated is enough to get Nico a bit agitated herself. She skids to a halt on the rooftops as the going gets a bit sticky... because she has a lot of things she wants to do today! And plowing through a bunch of obstacles to tail people who're running away and will be caught by the Selenes anyways if there's any trouble...     She's curious, but expects the books she was supposed to pore over today for inspiration for her next writing project will be more interesting.     As will that show!     Or so she'd think , but moments after turning around the NOISE of what's happening far away treaches her ears and she turns to ook...     And promptly bares her teeth in a wide, gawky grimace. "What?!" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The figure pauses when people start approaching and calling out to them. They don't appear to be trying to flee THESE pursuers. They stop in the alleyway, the space between two buildings. The sound of Selenes in the streets searching but for some reason not finding despite their eyes and ears being everywhere, gradually closing in, echoes around. Some souls are also becoming involved as well. Those that help maintain order, using their own superhuman powers and senses to join the hunt.     Even if they dont know why.     "If I stay here, I can't help you." the figure answers simply, their voice masked through technology, magic, or maybe a throat modification. It sounds deep, warped, distorted. Definitely deeper than their young-adult height would indicate. The baggy hoodie and equally baggy pants give no indication of male or female wearer. "I'll have to try again."     The stranger looks towards Jeci, and then Soupi for several seconds. The latter sees only non-reflective black inside the hood... A mask maybe? And something else.     Then the mysterious figure takes several steps backwards and falls through one of the shadows like it's a hole in reality. That same shadow grows lighter afterwards, not as deeply black.     That's quite an unusual power. Or... What? What else could it have been? Someone escaping the Selenes is unheard of. It doesn't happen.     That person just did.     And as they start filling the alleyway, crawling on the walls like robotic spider-people sniffing for a scent, it may become finally prudent enough an idea to withdraw to start heeding it.     But it's highly doubtful there's any chance that these people who dared to chase someone down just for running, someone who is clearly in trouble with the authorities, will simply let the matter slide, even if they have to discuss it... Privately. 

:'''{{#var:1151|Empty Tidings (1151)}} has posed:''' "Damn," sighs Eve. "Wannabe heroes." She gets a sudden pang of irritation at the thought of citizen supers showing up to join the commotion. Something about it seems... just... /annoying/, to her. She must've had to deal with them before. All those different lives, different identities, just sort of... blend together. The vanishing act, though, /that's/ new. Eve looks on in alarm when they're gone, and looks this way and that, trying to figure out where the hell they went. 'Nowhere' seems to be the answer. "But..." She lapses into silence for a couple seconds, then shakes her head sharply. "We should go." She bolts. She's going to ditch as fast as possible, getting down to ground level and blending in with the crowds. Hopefully, she can make some sense of what she saw, or... maybe she'll get lucky and it'll never come up again. That's the sort of thing that ruins your stay in paradise. That's the sort of thing that got you killed. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' "What in the--?" She blinks, several times over where she's being carried with ease by Titania; carried because she needed to recoup her energy. It wasn't so much what the figure said, but what they looked like. She wondered if they saw the same thing she did. She tilted her head a little bit, and the growing presence of the Selenes was enough to make her realize it was time to let them do what they needed to do. "Let's get out of here, then..." she murmurs softly. With that utterance, Titania, Queen of the Fae (and mechafairy, in this case!!) turns almost immediately, a second wispy wrap moving to secure a bit as the fairy's wings shift and move and send her off away from the alley, to the Blue Tower once more. She'll drop off at some point, the fairy shrinking down to rejoin her once she goes to ground from her odd little 'blink' ability of hers. As much as she might be inclined to frown, she doesn't. No... maybe? She needed to maybe talk with the others here. This was weird, sure, but ... no. She needed to keep a positive side showing. Even when she herself didn't have one. 
}}

5677/Then The Morning Comes (1)

2018-02-08T06:01:59Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/02/02 |Location=Fearful Symmetry |Synopsis=Just another day in Emblem City. |Cast of Characters=974, 954, 964, 513, 1100, 1154, 774, 6, 1151,..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/02/02
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=Just another day in Emblem City.
|Cast of Characters=974, 954, 964, 513, 1100, 1154, 774, 6, 1151, 1137
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Another day begins in Emblem city, the same way it always does. The illumination provided by the Temple of Phoebe, turning the night into a spectacle of illumination that seems to come from within the stones themselves, falls second to the blue fire that creeps up over whatever passes for a horizon. In time, that flame will continue to build and ascend in the sky, until the cobalt sun rises up along its usual arc. Right on time, as measured by a great clock and all the timers and watches and other time pieces that are synched up with it (which is all of them), at 00:00:01. From now until 23:59:59, when it falls dark again, and everyone should be at home, and Emblem City stands still for its nightly 'maintenance period', the whole day is open and free. The sky's the limit, figuratively if not literally!     What will today bring? What new thing will people try out? What will be learned and experienced? Who will they meet? What will they accomplish? The noble souls who are the residents of Emblem City have all the time in the world to find out. Maybe even forever.     Huge magical (or maybe holographic?) billboards come to life all over the city, springing up from projectors inset in buildings or that hover in the air, providing information on the newest games, the newest technology, the scores on the latest competitions, recommended reading at the Blue Tower, the weather in various districts and neighborhoods (which will change throughout the day as people decide what type of weather they want over their own home), and more.     Walking up to any of them (or flying to the airborne ones, or teleporting to them, or...) of course allows for more target inquiries, maps, placing orders for things one may desire, and of course there's the same sort of projectors inside any home whose resident desires them!     Defining features of Emblem City certainly includes many conveniences!     Souls awaken from their rest period, ever brief and uneventful, whether it be a magic circle, a cryogenic pod, a hovering bed, or even just a mat on the floor. The appearance doesn't matter. All that matters is everyone starts the day fresh and alert and ready to start the day anew!     What does one expect of a city of dead people, after all? Grogginess? They're not sleeping! Just... Resting. For some reason. Starting at 23:59:59 exactly.     Every day. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Aepicus hates this place.     His soul remembered the challenges of life. How nothing would ever be handed to him, how he had to claw it from the hands of people far more diligent and powerful than him. How he never quite measured up to the skills of craftsmen and scholars and entertainers, and how conquering those very challenges to thrive despite his shortcomings brought him a fulfillment. His wealth provided a metric he could follow, a metric born of skill and luck alike, of an ethical code that kept him feeling strong of will.     Here, everything was handed to him. He would wake up every day, and he would feel no pain or exhaustion from his flawed body. He hadn't the need to eat breakfast or sip coffee to face the day. He had no decisions to make to approach his work throughout his day. He had no horrors or fears to overcome in order to step outside. And it was awful, every second of it. He thought he would feel freedom from the shackles of his everyday struggle, but... No, it made everything worse. The contrast was agonizing. It was like a personal Hell. And so he spent every waking moment looking for a way out, a way to make it interesting.     Of course, he never let this show in his behavior. As the dawn came, he stepped out the front door of his small, unassuming abode. He adjusted his tie, then his glasses, and he began to walk. He catalogued his environment, mentally. He counted the people, watched what they did, and engaged in casual conversations. He had a curt, calm attitude to address others with, and he had the disquieting air of a cold businessman the entire time. His habit of wearing an outfit that made him look like a modern depiction of the Devil was an active choice... he felt out of place here, in this heavenly realm, and he adorned himself accordingly. He held his ability to fly, and used shadows in order to contrast the overly bright and welcoming feeling of the world around him.     "..." He scowled at a billboard briefly as it chimed about the reading selection in the Blue Tower. "Egh. Philosophy," he murmured. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' It's a happy time to be alive--well--so to speak. Not so much alive in the actual /strictest/ sense, after all, but happiness tended to follow the young girl when she became active, 'awakening'. She didn't like having to rest. She liked being /up/ and she never really questioned why. But she did especially enjoy her morning ritual as it were, even if it were wholly unnecessary--the sizzling of bacon and eggs and the smells that aught accompany the cooking of breakfast. It didn't matter if they didn't /need/ it, there was something about the taste, it was... a satisfying experience, yes it was! A little fairy flitted nearby, alighting to her shoulder. "Ah, Titania!" she beamed, the purple-haired young girl cheerful and giggling as it settled there, before the mechanoid-seeming fairy pointed. "Yes, I know. But people still like it. I like it too. It feels... nice, it feels normal." She lifts a finger, lightly patting the winged fairy's head. "After all, we can do good both with this and with what you and I can do in Phoebe's name," she warmly says. It was nice. She didn't have... what it felt like before. The abuse. Fending for herself. Soupi heaved a quick sigh and let a smile light her face up. She'd finish this, and pack the rest of the food as snacks for others when she headed out. Little tastes of a life prior, and once she finished up, she was soon out and about. She wore a sleek little suit that was almost dress-like in some ways. PRAYER had given her a certain power or two, even beyond the strange little technofairy that now flitted off her shoulder and spoke to none save her, now flying in a lazy circle like a halo as she left her home to start the day. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Nico Zangt is a slip of a young woman with fuzzy-white fox ears and a tail, proudly wearing the scholarly robes favored by many who study at the Blue Tower!     She comes skipping out of home and into the streets of Emblem City like a poop in a skillet, melodiously singsonging a big long cry of "BoooooooooooOOoooooooOOOOOOOOOOOooooOoooOOooOooOooooooOOOks!" to match one of the local popular songs. Carefree and strangely defiant of gravity, she bounces along via impossibly light steps, periodically stopping to twirl merrily in place and dramatically pose as if putting on a show in the local theatre!     This ends as she finds herself coming to a halt in Aepicus's shadow.     "Oh, do cheer up! For your sake, may doom and gloom never become contagious."     Nico vault-flips straight over the tall man, coming to land a solid ten feet further down the sidewalk on her path to the Blue Tower. "Now, just how is that next chapter going to go..." The girl strolls along as if the whole world were one big serendipitous mishmash of happenstance, gaze glazed over towards the sky, tapping her right index finger against her cheek... "Must finish that book. Once I see what everyone else is up tooooo[[User:Doctor Doctor|Doctor Doctor]] ([[User talk:Doctor Doctor|talk]])ooooo[[User:Doctor Doctor|Doctor Doctor]] ([[User talk:Doctor Doctor|talk]])!"     Oh dear god, it's a happy-go-lucky scholar with a penchant for storytelling and drama, and she's coming this way! ... or GOING that way... 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne Mace (1100)}} has posed:''' Paird, on the other hand, is quite happy with this place. Upon 'waking', she makes herself a brew, dresses, and then makes her way towards Coeus' workshop. She's got a spring in her step, because today is launch day. Between them they've rebuilt the flying machine more times than they can count, ever chasing the record of the fastest person in Ember. Continuing the very thing which killed her, of course. Chasing the next big innovation in going fast, only to use it flying around the streets and generally irritating everyone else when it's inevitably pushed too far and smashed into something, or someone. Still, it keeps her busy... She nods to Nico and Aepicus. "Morning!" she says cheerfully to the two of them. 

:'''{{#var:1154|Wandering Dog (1154)}} has posed:''' Balences' routine started the same way every day. He woke up, got dressed, and had breakfast with his family, talking about what they'd with their day and how they slept. His son was growing up so big, just like him, and it made Balences excited. Before he'd come to Emblem City, he was pretty sure he never had a family. But actually having one, not being alone, that was something amazing. Finishing breakfast and downing the rest of his orange juice, the man grabbed his bag and his mask off of the mantlepiece, and out the door. His wife simply shouted to 'grab some eggs' as he left. There would be a show today. Balences headed down the road towards the billboard, moving to put in a query. "Alright, let's see..." Before he can send out a reminder for show times, however, Balences turns to watch the foxgirl suddenly leap out and surprise a man, laughing as she twirls. "Hahah! Someone's in a cheerful mood! Good morning! She's right, you know, mister. Mornings like this need to be embraced!" A wave to Paird. "Morning to you!" Putting his hand into his bag, Balences pulls out several flyers, moving to hand them out to Nico, Paird, and Aepicus. They're advertisements for a 'hero show', called 'The Adventures of the Masked Dragon', who seems to be a masked hero who fights monsters. "If you have kids or just enjoy a good show, come on by this afternoon. Tell your friends!" 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Routine. Blessed routine. One might even call it 'sacred'. Gil VI had been living -- well, UNliving actually -- for such, for a very long time. It wasn't exciting. But it didn't have to be. He knew what was in store for him each moment of every day. It filled the moments of the day, gave him something to think about.     Best of all, it kept him from thinking about That One Thing. Regrets were of no use here. No conflict, no warring, no struggle -- what use were regrets? And yet it wouldn't leave him be. Filling every waking moment with SOMETHING kept him from having to dwell on it.     And yet even he had to stop working sometime. Not for tiredness or need of sleep. But even the systems that had been built around them -- systems he helped build and maintain -- needed to maintenance. Pity, really.     He was always up as soon as he could manage, working as soon as he could start. Every day, the gears started turning (figuratively speaking) at exactly the same time. Exactly the same routine every morning. Get up. Dress and groom. Go to work. The dark suit was a familiar feeling, the hairstyle and mustache groomed exactly the same way every day. Boring? Maybe for some. For him it was routine. And routine is sacred.     He tended to favor a silk ascot pinned with a large silver brooch in place of a tie. It was usually the only spot of color in his typical suit. And it made him look distinguished, he thought. And given that he rarely cracked a smile, he needed something going for him in the looks department. Then again, that didn't really matter here, either. Did anything?     Thoughts like that are shaken away as he starts out the door, parcel tucked under one arm. He isn't exactly a beacon of doom and gloom, that's for certain. But he's definitely one of the more serious, quiet sorts. One could tell his emotions more in his eyes than with facial expressions. He will end up passing the same billboard, pausing to look at it. And to note the advertisement of another show. There seems to be a crowd here. Not that he minds.     "Good morning," he offers politely and civily to those assembled here. He has a few things to look at -- the billboard gives information, right? He needs to find out a few things; complaints and requests, maintenance requests, tweaking of functions, et cetera. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Jeci Tsu had had an interesting life for a nobody, but that was long over and honestly she didn't need to be forced to not talk about being dead. Jeci didn't miss the living world too much and kept to a few habits she still enjoyed a few little vices like coffee and something small to eat it was for the enjoyment of it but she hadn't found. She then showered, dressed and made ready to head out. Sure she didn't need to but hey? It was something to do that was her choice, still she she would get into trouble here, as she often did Jeci. To day she lingered a bit cleaning up a few things in her small home. She did feel like something with missing but never figured it out every day, though it was likely those in power would keep an eye on her as she she had a habit of getting into trouble in life, which carried over to her in /death/. Not that she talked about it. She was a short woman who unlike what most of her people who live near her thought? Had not alerterd her appernac she had short cropped red hair and to earth she would be rather hard to pin down ethnicly but her skin was on the palish side with bright icy blue eyes. She's flying herself but not to o high and she pauses for a moment laughing a bit as she moves to buzz Nico. "Morning miss Fox Books!" She looked Aepicous for a moment as she makes the call to come in for a landing. "Hey so all heading out today?" She's not yet spooted Soupi thugh the local ball of super sunshine... 

:'''{{#var:1151|Empty Tidings (1151)}} has posed:''' Eve Ren awakens every morning, heart pounding, wondering who she is. It usually takes a few moments for her to collect herself. Here, in Emblem City, she reminds herself each and every day: you are Eve Ren. You are no one else. There is no job, no target, no objective. You are... .../you/. She looks in a mirror, and her heart stops racing. She breathes, slowly, deeply; clean, cool air in, warm, relieved breath out. She takes in her home, lonely by the standards of many of those who live in paradise, and she smiles to herself. It's hers. No one else's. Her brother is... She frowns, then, just like she does every morning. He isn't here. That's good, too. Her routine isn't much of one. She bathes, dresses, and plucks fruit out of one bowl and a flower out of the other on her way out. By the time she's hit the street, she's eaten the fruit and found a good place to put the flower -- in her hair, usually, and usually it's a little extra contrast to the bright scarlet locks. She runs, then. She likes to feel the wind in her face and the streets disappearing beneath her as she crosses shining bridges from island to island. "The Masked Dragon, huh?" She's slowed down by the time she reaches that particular board and that particular group. "I haven't heard any of his adventures in a while." She adjusts her glasses with her right hand, a false finger touched to them. Eve smiles a little. "What's the fiendish foe this time?" 

:'''{{#var:1137|Asterios (1137)}} has posed:''' Large, whose name adequately describes approximately everything about him, wakes promptly at the exact time he has awoken for just about as long as anyone can remember. Morning routine executed as ever it has been, the behemoth of a man immediately got down to the work of the day. Even in a city of the dead, there was need for architects. Enormous, sinuous limbs barely contained within a neat assortment of denim and flannel make their way down he thoroughfare. The massive figure balanced on those appropriately gigantic legs casts a shadow far larger than he or anyone at all honestly should be capable of. The reason is abundantly obvious for anyone who cares to glance up. As he has done every day, the giant has brought his own materials to work for the day. Only a fraction of that involves the rolls of blueprints tucked neatly under an arm, the previous night obviously spent hard at work at marking them up, making sure every single measurement was just /right./ The rest consists of a pile of lumber and stone secured atop his broad shoulders. "Mmn?" The big man pauses at the assemblage of peers. Good morning, everyone. It's another clear sky today." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The Selenes are out in force. Is it Selenes or Selene when referring to more than one? TECHNICALLY THE LATTER but NOBODY CARES ABOUT UNDERWORLD GRAMMAR so many people, especially English speakers, just tack on an s regardless. The Selenes don't appear to be compelled to correct them. Regardless of their appearance, they all have little touches to make it clear they are artificial. No matter how masterfully-sculpted, how human-looking, there's always something that stands out. Pupils of a solid reflective material, for example. A mechanical seam along their jawline, almost like a puppet. Robotic joints. A synthetic, echoing voice. Openly exposed internal machinery.     They are everywhre, performing labor, acting as 'family' to those who do not have other souls to serve the role, or friends, or lovers, or rivals for those who want some sort of competition to give their afterlives meaning. They're placeholders. Stand-ins.     All there to make an undying existence easier, and fill the time until the day when those whose requests for reincarnation have gone through the system. There's supposedly a long wait, or so it is said, though so far there's only been... What? A few days? A few weeks? A month at most? It can't be that much time that has passed. Not yet. Some may have only submitted their ticket this very day.     Though it is odd, then, that it can sometimes seem as though it was submitted long ago. But it's the afterlife! It's hard to keep track of what day it is when every day is so similar, and yet has the potential to be so different!     As people leave their homes and start milling out into the streets, or taking to the skies, or simply blinking out of existence to get to their destination all that much faster, or taking long strolls along the bridges, looking down into the deep foggy mists far below, beneath even the many layers of island-cities and island-towns hanging over nothing, the noise levels increases gradually.     Selenes come to life performing their roles, providing automatic greetings, pre-recorded lines of dialogue, comforting familiarity and normality. 'Selling' their free wares, superfluous currency minted with crowns and hearts on each side to be used simply to give the Dead something to spend. Utterly valueless. A placebo for the wealth-minded. Of course, it also gives those souls who labor to produce wares and wish to be rewarded monetarily something in return, and both other souls and Selenes accomodate them. Just as valuelessly, beyond any emotional importance.     Yes, everything is nice and peaceful. New expansions to Emblem City are always needed as more souls arrive, or people want new structures. And of course, in such an expansive place, there are things that require adjustment. Not everything can be handled during nightly maintenance. It only lasts a second after all!     So craftsmen and manual workers who want to create, to build, to repair and control, have plenty to do each day.     In fact, it looks like one of the flying billboards is displaying... Static? How odd. It shouldn't do that. For a moment it almost looks like there's a man's face in the static. Something that will surely be attended to soon. In the meanwhile, nearby Selenes crowd in front of it and start up a loud conversation, blocking view of it. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Aepicus is accosted by the happiness of that scholarly fox girl. He doesn't seem to react beyond a turn of his head, watching her land as if he anticipated exactly where that'd happen. He was never easy to startle, and the way his brows lifted suggested, perhaps, that it didn't bother him as much as it would someone else.     "Mmh," he replies to her cheer with his usual apathy, and turns his head to regard something being held out toward him. His hand, with mechanical precision, retrieves the flyer that Balences, and lifts his other hand to wave to Paird. He feigns a smile -- it never seems genuine coming from him -- and regards the flyer with more interest than anything else. When it's another soul organizing something, it always felt more... 'correct.' But then he lifted his head and scouted around, ignoring other input. This behavior comes from an oddity he spots that immediately robs him of focus on anything but this.     Aepicus approaches the billboard and tries to get a closer look to it, flying off the ground with a small push of his feet. He approaches and halts before it, and even reaches out to try to touch its surface. Its odd appearance was a crack in the veneer of this place, an oddity in an otherwise perfect afterlife. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Familiar faces in all the familiar places causes the young girl to beam just so. Violet hair is ruffled slightly by the wind, sometimes by the mechafairy who leaves little trails of light behind her as she sometimes simply sets herself on the girl's head. "Hello Gil! Glad to see you! I made muffins today!" They're actually blueberry muffins, freshly made and still a bit warm, just right for that taste as she reaches into the case she had brought along with her. She hadn't seen some of the others, like Balence, or Jeci. She'll spot them eventually, no doubt. Though, once she's had a chance to impart the joy of freshly baked goods to Gil, she spots someone who is in desire need of good cheer. Try not to imagine someone laser locking onto their target: +_+ "Ooh, excuse me Mr. Gil, someone's needing a little pick me up!" she offers as a reason for her sudden reason for her abrupt change in attention, the fairy Titania on her head practically bolting over to where the man was walking, buzzing around his head once as a kind of preamble to the young girl making her way over--faster? Than it should be--but she was there to begin with. Or not. It's a weird thing, like that static and the Selenes all abuzz. Or Selene. Hmmmn. It didn't matter! Probably. But she was beaming up at the taller man. "You look like you could use a muffin. At least something to take that frown off your face, Mr. Aepicus." Soupi smiled a cheerful little smile, proffering up another one of those sweetly smelling muffins as she had Gil not moments ago. Totally not inadvertently trying to distract him from this wonderful life. 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne Mace (1100)}} has posed:''' Paird looks over at the Selene nearby, blinking. Red dust on the face of one of them stirrs the faintest ghost of a memory, a briefly quizzical look crossing her face before she forgets it, distracted by Large's approach. "It is!" She agrees. "Perfect flying weather. If this holds by the time Coeus wakes up we should be airborne by lunchtime." She grins, cheerfully. She's about to say more when she spots the crowd of Selene around the screen. "Look at that." She says. "One of the screens is on the blink. It's got the Selene all in a tizzy, it's like they can't decide what to do about it." She watches the Selene street theatre - and what she can see of the screen - while slowly being drawn towards the smell of blueberry muffins, unconsciously. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Jeci Tsu has not even bothered to submit her ticket yet she was happy she could do what she did in life and more she had powers and wasn't useless here. Why would she want to go back, someday she will but for now she was content at least for herself to explore and learn. She looks to Aepicus for a moment as he seems to be looking at something? She watches static for a moment staring. "The Selene are all bothered here just ... what's going on here?" She does eye the muffins from Soupi, who has muffins. She would be interested in going to get them and she moves to her going "Do you have muffins but ... just /what/ is that?" She looks back to the thing that the resident grumpy pants is looking at. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "Ba~len~ces!~" Nico sing-songs out the man's name with the same carefree manner of a bird chirping at dawn! Giving NO thought to Aepicus ignoring her. Even his dourness can't suppress how quickly her tail's wag-wag-wagging up a storm.     She aims a happy little wave for Jeci, eartips wiggling once at the nickname... but her attention's focused largely on Balences.     "Always in a good mood! Especially for a show!" With a blur of motion she ZIP-SNATCHES up an offered flyer and holds it up close to her face, growing giggly with anticipation.     Just like that, Nico raises a hand and starts striking heroic poses straight out of some kind of cheap sentai production, flyer still clutched in her hand!     "Oooooh... have to see the new one. Oogh, do I have enough time to get in my studies firs--"     The distant billboard flickering catches her eye. of course EVERYTHING seems to get this girl's full attention immediately. "Huh?"     Brows furrow quizzically and she hades her eyes with a hand and leans closer as if to get a better look at the distant display... 

:'''{{#var:1137|Asterios (1137)}} has posed:''' What is with the afterlife and being so full of people who are all too chipper? Though it is somewhat hard to complain about being where they are; after all, everything is being provided for while they wait for the bureaucracy to spin its wheels. Though one can't help but wonder if something is perhaps... missing. Large blinks as the Selene begin to crowd around that... malfunctioning screen? Hm. That's not supposed to happen. Malfunctions should all be taken care of during the overnight maintenance, shouldn't they? Fortunately, Large is... very Large. He has a perfect vantage point from which to peer inquisitively over the heads of the assembled dolls and into the haze of static dancing across the screen. How odd. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Gil has a small smile for Soupi and the muffins. He will indeed take the offered muffin. "Thank you," he offers in return. The mention of someone in need of cheer gets... oddly, a thoughtful look. A satisfied look, as though one is seeing the fruition of something that one has worked at for a long time. "Of course. Please do your best."     Of course this malfunctioning board will get Gil's attention immediately. That's not supposed to happen. Those billboards are needed, and not just for the obvious purposes. He casts a glance in the direction of the workshop. This will probably get logged, and he can look at the information later. For now... repair. He turns his attention back to the assembled crowd of souls. "Please pardon me. Do have a wonderful day, won't you?" He bows politely, and then heads over to the static'd billboard.     He'll just ignore that man's face. Surely that was a trick of the light. Or it was trying to show a spokesman for a product before it went to static. That's all.     The Selenes should let him past -- he works on these devices regularly, after all. And there's probably a maintenance hatch to get to the inner workings somewhere. There's a frown on his face, one that's only partly of concentration. Diagnostic equipment... he should have that with him. Plug into the billboard's systems, run diagnostic -- Gil is eager to get this up and running.     He notes Aepicus getting near the malfunctioning billboard, and fights down a flash of panic. However, he pastes a smile on his face. This one looks particularly plastic, since Gil isn't generally one to smile often. "Nothing to worry about," he assures the other man. "Just a flicker of a frozen image, that's all. It will be fixed in no time. Please don't touch, you may experience a shock when it comes back online."     He offers that same look to Paird. "Not to worry," he assures her as well. "It'll be fixed momentarily. Terribly sorry for the disruption."     He turns his attention back to the diagnostic equipment. Hopefully he's right, and this will be repaired soon... 

:'''{{#var:1154|Wandering Dog (1154)}} has posed:''' "That's a shame, Eve Ren. Well, this one'll be good! It's THE MASKED DRAGON versus...the WINGED BRICKTIGER!" Balences makes a dramatic pose at Eve Ren, and then poses alongside Nico, grinning at her in recognition, as she starts making them. Large gets a wave. "Hey, big guy. What are you working on today?" As he and others show up, the show flyers are handed out to them, as the screen goes on the fritz. Balences looks up at the billboard, sighs, and then suddenly calls out to Aepicus as he heads out to fly to it. "Hey, wait! They're probably trying to repair that, you might not want to get too close!" The performer moves to try and catch up with him, stopping near the Selenes as he does so. They're not supposed to poke the hornets nest...but, he could atleast ask politely, right? "Did something happen over here, Selenes? This is a pretty big crowd!" 

:'''{{#var:1151|Empty Tidings (1151)}} has posed:''' Eve's smile gets brighter. She takes a flyer, looking it over and then tucking it into a practically invisible pocket on her jacket. "Well, I'll have to make some time to see it! Is..." The screen suddenly arrests her attention. Her smile fades away, turning to a little frown. She definitely caught the glimpse of someone's face. Is someone messing with the system? "You would think that there wouldn't be malfunctions like that in a place like this," Eve says to no one in particular. She drifts a couple steps after Aepicus before she stops, realizing the Selene contingent aren't going to take that lightly. So, instead, she turns to the biggest person around -- that'd be Large, of course -- and climbs him like a tree. She's getting up to shoulder level and using him as a vantage point to see what happens next. "Don't mind me," she says, her voice perfectly polite. 

:'''{{#var:1137|Asterios (1137)}} has posed:''' It's okay, Large is very Large and can lift approximately damn near anything. One woman won't keel him over so easy. "Don't worry," the big man says cheerfully as he's so rudely clambered all over. "I'm fine. Just be careful. Lots of stuff up there." Beat. "Mmn, just the usual," Large answers to the playful performer. "You know how it is. Always things to put up. I think today is a school?" Or was it a fire department? Or... Hm. Well, whatever. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     As people start closing in, other souls also remain in the areas as on-lookers. It's so unusual that it draws everyone's attention, it seems. Even those who wish people would just move along and not get them involved. The Selenes respond to those trying to push through by closing their ranks tighter and turning with glassy, emotionless eyes and fixed expressions to face them.     "Everything is fine, Resident. How are you today?" one answers the inquiry of what's going on. It's not even acknowledging the display.     As Aepicus tries to float in, closer and closer, moments from touching it, even as Gil is allowed through almost... Grudgingly, right as the warning about an electric shock is called out and there's an almost-tangible energy that seems to hum from the projection...     A Selene driving a long line of containers attached to a hover vehicle of some sort passes right in front of him, nearly 'running him over' in mid-air as it forces its way between the businessman and the display. "Please clear the way. Important cargo, coming through." the automaton announces cheerily and synthetically, a line of what must be several dozens cargo containers drifting along behind it.     Weird that it had to drive through right here. Probably a complete and total coincidence.     It's a busy place, after all. Have to detour sometimes so as not to get in the way of people's business.     Likewise, Large's view, momentarily of a vague, shadowy silhouette, or maybe just the random pattern of pixels that happened to trick the eyes momentarily, it obscured in the same fashion. And the tighter ranks prevent those trying to sneak through from getting any closer. They seem a bit less friendly as they either toss out brief lines like, "That sounds like a very interesting show, Mister Masked Dragon. I will attend the spectacle!" and "Your muffins look consumable. Do you accept Currency?" and "The Workshop just reported a new upgrade is available for Aerial Travel Vehicle. It is worth checking out!" and similar very topical and personally-relevant bits of dialogue.     As Gil starts checking out the projector rod, he may find that it appears someone has pried open a panel. Or perhaps it came off accidentally... Somehow. Either way, some wires are a little bit out of place, and this is delicate equipment, so moving them back to where they should be is probably perfectly sufficient.     No issue here.     Eve's position, and that of any who fly, or do acrobatic leaps through the air, or what not, and probably Large as well, is such that they may be able to make out a figure in a hood sneaking across a rooftop nearby, moving quickly but stealthily, trying to escape. Were they responsible for this... Sabotage!? 

:'''{{#var:1151|Empty Tidings (1151)}} has posed:''' "I will be, don't worry! Thank you!" Eve sounds friendly and chipper while she's avoiding getting incidentally bludgeoned by construction materials. She stays up there for maybe a minute as she watches it all go down. Things start to get hectic. Still frowning, Eve starts to descend -- and then spots something in the distance, moving quickly away from the scene of the... is it even a crime? Is crime a thing? Eve can think of an island where being a sneaky thief is sort of the way you deal with things; it's the local theme. She slithers back down, patting Large on the leg. "Thanks again," she says, the redhead flashing him a quick smile, and then backing away from the group. She waves, calling, "I'll definitely be there for the show," and then turning and running off away from the Selene blockade and increasing interference. After the runner, of course. Nobody runs away for no reason. It turns out that she was light on her feet in life, and didn't forget that when she died, even if she can't quite... remember... Eve squeezes her eyes shut for a second, then opens them, vaults a hot dog in a hurry, and starts ascending a building via fire escape. She's going up after them. 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne Mace (1100)}} has posed:''' Paird shrugs a little at then looks up at Eve "So did you see anything interesting? You have-" She asks, before cutting off as Eve makes a break for it, catching a glimpse of the hooded figure. She looks at Large, "Did you... never mind." With that she runs for the workshop. Throwing open the doors, she hauls the tarpaulins off the flying machine, cranking it into life and staring to prime the launch mechanisms. Perhaps she can get up there and help somehow... 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Everything is fine? What next is everything under control? Tsu does not know but she seems curious it's just how she is does it seem that someone might be in trouble here. The Selens seem to be trying to clean up the mess of whatever this is then the cargo is coming and she seems to be /very/ interested in what's going on she won't get in the way she tries to not get distracted by the robots? Well that's what she thinks the Selene are. Robots of some sort but Jeci? Is maybe too curious for her own good? Has her trying to figure out just what's going on here? The Masked Dragon does also get her attention but the Selene are piling in. She'll try to get a better vantage as she can fly, so up she goes to try and get a flying view of what's going, this will totally get her into trouble and does she care? Hell no. "Up up and away!" 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Aepicus slips backward so he doesn't get hit by an actual train by the Selene responsible for that. He doesn't stick so close to the sign after that, and spends a moment fixing his glasses and his hair, and then his coat... "Watch where you're going," he complains, despite knowing they were doing that to keep him away from the oddity.     While his eyes focus on what Gil is doing back there, as little as he can see of the guy past the strange robots. His head turns when he notices some movement, and watches Eve take off after a figure. He sniffs and breathes a sigh, and flits off through the air.     Titania gets swatted at, as if the fairy was just an insect buzzing around his head. He isn't trying to hit her -- the Selene will immediately deal with him if he does that -- and more just being dismissive. He decides to follow after Eve in her pursuit, but his pace keeps him well behind the both of them. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     The reluctance of the Selenes isn't even registered; the billboard needs fixing. It MUST be fixed! Though as he finds out what the problem is, Gil breathes a sigh of relief. The damage is minor, and easily repaired.     Tools are retrieved, small things that can move the displaced wires back into their proper places. And probably also protect him from shock; it's likely a good bit of the small maintenance of this sort is done without taking the billboards offline. That would be a lot of mess and hassle for something tiny. And the billboards have to function with as much uptime as possible.     More confident now, Gil begins to move the wires back into place, carefully fastening them back where they're supposed to be, and then re-fastening the cover in place. "There. That should do it," he announces. It's just as much to reassure himself as to assure anyone listening. And he runs through the diagnostic again, to make certain that there's no more issues with the billboard.     The thought of sabotage doesn't even enter his mind. No one could want to break this idyllic world. And he doesn't see the retreating figure. "Just some loose wires," he announces. He steps away from the now-closed panel to check the status of the billboard. Is it working now?     It's only then that he notices that people are starting to head off in a specific direction. He frowns, the expression a mere frisson of confusion across his stoic features. Might there be something there? He's grateful for the distraction, but... it seems odd. So he leaves the ground as well, with a thought, and starts in that direction as well. 

:'''{{#var:1154|Wandering Dog (1154)}} has posed:''' While the various people saying they'll attend to his show is great, Balences is more distracted by everyone running off. Eve's heading somewhere, Aepicus is flying after him, the others are moving too...they're not supposed to investigate this sort of stuff. Just allow the Selenes to handle it, that's always been how it is. Though... Though if something's going on, Balences can't resist. He always wanted a life of action, a life of heroics. And if everyone, some of whom he considers good neighbors, is running off? He can't just leave them behind. If the Selenes ask, he'll say he was worried about them. It's not a lie, after all. Clutching his mask tight in hand, Balences sighs, and makes the decision, running down the street in Eve's direction. He's not superhuman, or anything special, but something inside him feels he can't just ignore this. A drive for something tells Balences he can't just wait here and pretend everything's normal. "Hey, wait up! Running like this isn't safe!" He'll cut through alleys and streets, trying not to lose Eve's trail, watching her as she ascends the buildings. Aepicus, being in the air, is a good thing to eye to keep track of the chase. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' "I do! I made plenty of them!" Soupi beams when it comes to the questions about her delicious blueberry muffins she had made! She has the container for them being held thanks to a shoulder strap, and she can reach in the side, or open a lid for them to be plucked free from. And of course, a handy little side-satchel type thing to accept Currency as is wanted. That said, her attention, at least for the most part is seemingly on Aepicus. Her eyes may flit at times to what others are saying, the curiousness with things not working as they should. That said, being thoroughly ignored is enough to get her furtively looking towards both the people who've gathered near her, and some of the others--she hands out and acquires lovely Currency for her sale of muffins at least while Titania makes some weirdly /pulsing/ noise at Aepicus for being all dismissive. Coupled with others starting to move towards that... /something/ that was up there, she /almost/ frowns. Almost. It's more of a stepford smiler moment as she realizes that people won't be contented. The fact is, that somene might actually be doing something of an ill will wins over the gregarious young girl. And then she disappears. She reappears again, a slight pulse from having gone somehow invisible and either shifted or phased up to a rooftop. The sudden change, still smiling, the fairy Titania rejoining her--but now no longer the size of a fairy--but the size of a humanoid in normal, her wings still outstretched around her as she arrives and changes size. Looking to Soupi for direction. "Yes, let's see what's going on. Everyone else is curious, perhaps we can do some good as Phoebe would!" she proudly says towards her robotic companion. Still, she and Titania would have to follow the others, the girl blinking across to catch up, the fairy shrinking back down in pursuit for the purposes of speed. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' At first, Nico Zangt wasn't going to bother with the matter of the Billboard. But the strange pile of Selene that cover it and the cargo truck from nowhere bring a naughty little look of bubbling curiosity to her face.     Just as she's readying to leap all the way over yonder and check it out though (those pointy ears of hers are more than enough to pick up the discussion!) half the people start chasing off in another direction?!     "Hyah?! Don't leave me behind!" And on principle alone she takes a flying leap up onto the buildings to chase along with the others! 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Around the same time that many people take off after the fleeing figure, others run after those who are giving chase of someone they didn't personally see, driven by some... Impulse. Some desire to do something they know they PROBABLY shouldn't be doing, but are doing anyway... However they explain it to themselves, they all just take off like a horde of lemmings, chasing what might be unpleasant consequences for them with all their fervor.     The figure leaps from one rooftop to the next, even the ones that are far apart. It clearly possesses superhuman agility and strength, though that is scarcely odd here. Nothing to raise an eyebrow at. Even the fact that it is moving from roof to roof in such a manner isn't totally odd. There's people who enjoy parkour after all!     The Selenes by the billboard to not interfere, remaining until Gil finishes his repairs, and then suddenly dispersing. The crowd that had gathered, some of them floating up to see what's going on with the chase as well, think better of it when the ubiquitous doll-people begin moving out into the crowd, in closer range to snag an arm and lead them back on their errands, or to engage them in conversation, or ask if they need help with something.     Whether by flight, by leaping, by teleportation, or by a potential incoming flying machine, if they are pursuers, curious people just seeing what's up, those fulfilling some long-held wish, or souls just... Going after it for reasons they can not fully articulate... The figure stops when it notices them coming, seeming to hesitate, looking this way and that, as if uncertain whether to continue running or not. If they aren't doing anything wrong, they should wait and see what all these people coming at them is about, right?     But then Selenes coming pouring up over the sides of the building, leaping from street level or other bridges with their own superhuman abilities. Some of them are down on all fours, their joints reversing in some manner that they can run along on hands and feet like four-limbed spiders. They all converge on the figure in the hoodie. Selenes don't do this kind of thing unless the person in question has done something wrong.     "Please stay where you are." "Running is dangerous here." "Your temperament requires soothing." and other phrases are uttered in a chorus of synthetic voices that overlap each other. Right as they are about to leap upon and restrain the hoodie-wearing figure, it leaps high, high, HIGH and lands on another island. Not an impossible feat. Not necessarily uncommon.     But nothing about this situation is 'usual'. The Selenes usually seize someone before they even know what's happening. Coeus is said to be watching all the time. Someone like this, if they actually did something wrong, would have been stopped the moment they did it, not after they had done their damage and started to flee.     Nothing about this is 'usual'. At all.     As the figure lands on a distant rooftop, it then drops down off the edge into the space between two buildings, apparently trying to slip away, while back at the point they leapt from, Selenes try to sort themselves out after colliding with and piling on top of each other, missing their target.     This has gone from mild curiousity to something much more.     At the same time, there is a sudden proliferation of vehicles moving through the air, trying to make flying and line-of-sight teleportation and even super jumoing as much of an obstacle as possible. No, wait, why would they be doing that on purpose? Unless... Well, the obvious answer is they want to keep everyone away from this person, whomever they are. Perhaps with good reason? What if they're... Dangerous!?     It's still possible to fly, to run, to leap, to teleportation. But it requires a dedicated effort to get around and through, to keep up what is definitely now a chase scene! 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Here it is. A challenge.     But there are too many people involved. Aepicus notes everyone that seemed to chase after the figure in the hoodie. He looks at those that picked up on the commotion, and the way the Selene seemed to surge toward the mystery stranger the moment their attention was drawn to them... but not before. The red-haired man comes in for a landing after he takes in who they are, and deems a chase too much of a risk to participate in himself. Not with so many people likely to get piled on by the Selenes.     "Later," he resolves to himself, making a mental note to speak to each bold individual once all this quiets down. If they find anything of note, they may be willing to help.     For now, he redirects his attention to the Blue Tower, landing on the road and just walking in that direction. 

:'''{{#var:1151|Empty Tidings (1151)}} has posed:''' Eve waves back over her shoulder. "It's fine! I'm --" She weaves around a couple out on a stroll, having to twist around and jog backwards for a couple seconds. She waves again, the filigree on her artificial hand glinting in the morning sunlight. "It'll be fine! Don't worry!" She tries to smile reassuringly. It doesn't really help. She's up on the building, now. She follows the figure, taking off like a shot. The red-haired woman darts across the roof and takes the leap off of it, legs flailing seemingly wildly. She hits the far roof and drops into an obviously-practiced forward roll, coming to her feet smoothly and without losing hardly any momentum. There's a feeling of the thrill of the chase, for her; it comes from her living days, where this sort of thing usually followed an operation going wrong. It makes her feel alive. Here, now... that's rare. She holds that tightly. The joy of it lights up her face. Then, the Selenes rise up, swarming the rooftop. They come at the fleeing figure en masse, trying to hold it. Eve Ren pours on the speed, rushing right at the group of them as she sees the figure shift, about to move... The figure leaps. Selenes get tossed off like ragdolls. Without thinking, Eve leaps into the air. She plants her feet against the first of the Selenes and pushes downward, propelling herself to greater heights. She rockets upwards, grasping a second in mid-flight that tries to say something to her. Her artificial hand glints in the sunlight, glovelike skin creaking, and she rotates the both of them in the air before slingshotting herself after her quarry -- and slamming into a passing car. She hits the door and digs her fingers in, body rotating and feet swinging up to its rooftop as she peels the frame up incidentally. She jumps again, climbing up the next, and again, higher and higher, just as fast -- Eve scrambles up onto the island the figure landed on. She follows it from roof to roof, skidding to a halt only when she gets inside earshot. "Why are you running?!" she demands, more irritated by the interference than the actual act. She feels a bit sore, now... but she feels good. The filligree silouette of Phoebe on the back of her hand seems to smile. It's probably an optical illusion. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' "Hmm..." Soupi was momentarily pensive. On the one hand, she felt like she should let the Selene deal with this, as she could go down back and talk with people, maybe about food. But on the other hand, she could set a good example here. From what Titania had told her, in her mind, there was a reason this one was being pursued. She exhaled slightly, and then closed her eyes--vanishing again. Titania swept forward, keeping a fairy's eye view. The smaller figure still found it harder to actually progress through, but her size might help Soupi guide her short ranged little phased teleports. It might help, and she focuses a little on her 'blinks' around and through, doing her best not to actually interfere with the Selene. On the other hand... there was something that gnawed at her, drove her to see who this person in the hoodie was, and maybe she might be able to impede their progress enough for the Selene to help! After all, that Eve person--she thinks she recognizes her from around? At some point, she seems to just pop out of midair--and that's when the fairy Titania quickly changes size, to catch her and continue her flight. "Please tell us, yes! We're only here to help!" she cheerfully calls out after the hoodie'd person. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Something doesn't feel right to Jeci about this. this isn't fair someone is clearly being dog piled this won't do. She has made up her mind to try and go after this. She's going to get into trouble and she's going to have to focus here to keep in the air and not hit anything she's too curious for her own good and honestly they are seriously dogpiling that person it ain't right to her so Jeci presses on with all the skill she can muster. Much like some of the others she'll call out to the runner if she gets close enough. "Hey what's going on it's not fair of them to dog pile you like that! Do you need any help?!" 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Between them and the hooded figure now, there are Selenes here. Gil... he has always sought the soothing. It keeps his mind off of things in the past that he could not change... things he would rather not speak of, things about his life amongst the living that he has told no one here. The desire to forget anything like this happened, it's there. It would be easy. Let go. Surrender. Be led away for the soothing of his temperament, and then go on about his time here. It's none of his business, is it?     Something inside his heart stirs, something alien and yet... familar. A voice not his own, scoffing at this stance of inaction. And something else stirs in his mind -- a memory that is still alien but... closer somehow. That word -- 'inaction'. It rubs a sore spot in his heart long ago forgotten. And as he looks out over the Selenes, and the sudden uptick of air traffic for unknown reasons, that memory from his time among the living aches.     Inaction.     The word strikes his heart like a solid punch. He speaks it, on little more than a puff of breath, as if speaking it would get the word out of his heart. "...Inaction." It does nothing but leave a foul taste in his mouth. Hearing it with his own ears makes it all the more real, and it settles over his heart like a weight. Soothing. Inaction. Impulses war in his heart, along with something along the sides of his consciousness, something just out of sight. Something that is familiar but that he can't quite place. Something outside this all. For a moment, he can almost recall...     ...And then it's gone, leaving behind the lingering memory of the memory of cheap alcohol and scathing wit. And no small amount of disapproval.     By the time he's back to himself, Aepicus is moving away. Gil looks again. That's a lot of attention up there, between them and the hooded figure. It wouldn't leave much time to talk to the hooded figure. And he wants to know if this has anything to do with the billboard malfunction. But it would be damn near impossible with all this attention. Besides that, Gil himself doesn't want to end up getting detained.     Ultimately he comes up with the same idea as Aepicus -- the trail is too hot, he needs to wait until it cools off. So he gives that plastic smile again, this time aimed at the Selenes. "Just wanting to tell the stranger to be more careful," he offers. "I do have a great deal of work to get to." The Selenes aren't stupid, he knows, but hopefully that will placate them for now, by mentioning the thing that has been the focus of his unlife here -- his tireless work.     Like Aepicus, he redirects his flight back down, landing upon the ground lightly. He straightens his lapels, then the hem of his jacket, then the cuffs of his sleeves, possibly displaced by the unplanned flight. There will be time to find out when things aren't quite so intense. There are surely less drastic ways of getting in contact with the hooded figure. Ways that don't include them being detained. Gil is bright, he'll figure out a way to make contact. 

:'''{{#var:1154|Wandering Dog (1154)}} has posed:''' As they get closer and the person stops, Balences finally gets a look at what they're chasing. A person in a hoodie? Part of him wants to assist in questioning the guy, but...but he can't. He might have a heart of adventure, but Balences has a family to think about. So Balences won't. He considers, briefly, wrapping the mask around his eyes and having the Masked Dragon do it instead, but they'd know it's him. So instead, he shouts to the group ahead, especially as he sees the Selenes coming. They have to be being watched. If Balences gets a chance to get close to anyone, like Eve Ren, he'll try to shout out to them. "Turn back. This isn't worth getting in trouble for!" No, he might have a heart for adventure...but he's not a real hero. He's just an entertainer. Balences turns back, heading through the streets and moving through them towards his destination - the grocery store. If he drops out now, everything will be fine, right? 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Seeing the Selenes acting so focused and agitated is enough to get Nico a bit agitated herself. She skids to a halt on the rooftops as the going gets a bit sticky... because she has a lot of things she wants to do today! And plowing through a bunch of obstacles to tail people who're running away and will be caught by the Selenes anyways if there's any trouble...     She's curious, but expects the books she was supposed to pore over today for inspiration for her next writing project will be more interesting.     As will that show!     Or so she'd think , but moments after turning around the NOISE of what's happening far away treaches her ears and she turns to ook...     And promptly bares her teeth in a wide, gawky grimace. "What?!" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The figure pauses when people start approaching and calling out to them. They don't appear to be trying to flee THESE pursuers. They stop in the alleyway, the space between two buildings. The sound of Selenes in the streets searching but for some reason not finding despite their eyes and ears being everywhere, gradually closing in, echoes around. Some souls are also becoming involved as well. Those that help maintain order, using their own superhuman powers and senses to join the hunt.     Even if they dont know why.     "If I stay here, I can't help you." the figure answers simply, their voice masked through technology, magic, or maybe a throat modification. It sounds deep, warped, distorted. Definitely deeper than their young-adult height would indicate. The baggy hoodie and equally baggy pants give no indication of male or female wearer. "I'll have to try again."     The stranger looks towards Jeci, and then Soupi for several seconds. The latter sees only non-reflective black inside the hood... A mask maybe? And something else.     Then the mysterious figure takes several steps backwards and falls through one of the shadows like it's a hole in reality. That same shadow grows lighter afterwards, not as deeply black.     That's quite an unusual power. Or... What? What else could it have been? Someone escaping the Selenes is unheard of. It doesn't happen.     That person just did.     And as they start filling the alleyway, crawling on the walls like robotic spider-people sniffing for a scent, it may become finally prudent enough an idea to withdraw to start heeding it.     But it's highly doubtful there's any chance that these people who dared to chase someone down just for running, someone who is clearly in trouble with the authorities, will simply let the matter slide, even if they have to discuss it... Privately. 

:'''{{#var:1151|Empty Tidings (1151)}} has posed:''' "Damn," sighs Eve. "Wannabe heroes." She gets a sudden pang of irritation at the thought of citizen supers showing up to join the commotion. Something about it seems... just... /annoying/, to her. She must've had to deal with them before. All those different lives, different identities, just sort of... blend together. The vanishing act, though, /that's/ new. Eve looks on in alarm when they're gone, and looks this way and that, trying to figure out where the hell they went. 'Nowhere' seems to be the answer. "But..." She lapses into silence for a couple seconds, then shakes her head sharply. "We should go." She bolts. She's going to ditch as fast as possible, getting down to ground level and blending in with the crowds. Hopefully, she can make some sense of what she saw, or... maybe she'll get lucky and it'll never come up again. That's the sort of thing that ruins your stay in paradise. That's the sort of thing that got you killed. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' "What in the--?" She blinks, several times over where she's being carried with ease by Titania; carried because she needed to recoup her energy. It wasn't so much what the figure said, but what they looked like. She wondered if they saw the same thing she did. She tilted her head a little bit, and the growing presence of the Selenes was enough to make her realize it was time to let them do what they needed to do. "Let's get out of here, then..." she murmurs softly. With that utterance, Titania, Queen of the Fae (and mechafairy, in this case!!) turns almost immediately, a second wispy wrap moving to secure a bit as the fairy's wings shift and move and send her off away from the alley, to the Blue Tower once more. She'll drop off at some point, the fairy shrinking down to rejoin her once she goes to ground from her odd little 'blink' ability of hers. As much as she might be inclined to frown, she doesn't. No... maybe? She needed to maybe talk with the others here. This was weird, sure, but ... no. She needed to keep a positive side showing. Even when she herself didn't have one. 
}}

5658/Ghosts In The Machines

2018-02-04T02:28:13Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/01/25 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=A scholar and an inventor have a chat. |Cast of Characters=974, 42 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Poses=:'''{{#var:..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/01/25
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=A scholar and an inventor have a chat.
|Cast of Characters=974, 42
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark invited Staren to come visit with him so that they can plan a way to investigate Escher. After discussing a promising method with Asterios, there are leads on how they can start working on this project in a safer manner than otherwise, and a need for the heavy use of scouting drones to further reduce their incurred risk. When Staren arrives in Enark's study, he should be able to see plainly more stuff has accumulated from when he first came here. There's more furniture, there's more modern conveniences, battery and generator-powered lighting, and many more books (though most are on tables and desks and such rather than on shelves due to the shelves already being packed with Enark's personal selection of texts).     The mimic recliner is still chained to the floor, now with a wide white circle drawn on the floor around it to mark its attack range. There are a pair of metallic arms, a leg, and a torso lying half-complete on a table, and no sign of either Crow or Carna.     Enark is seated behind his desk with a slinky and some graph paper.     The Shrine of Light that allows transportation to here is still functioning and just inside a circular alcove within the entry way. The door on the other side of it leads out into the Library of Murdered Knowledge itself, and all the hazards therein. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren steps out of the Shrine of Light armored, as usual. You just can't be too careful, here. Although he does take his helmet off inside the study. "Enark!" the catboy smiles. "Good to see you, how are things?" He glances around the room, noting the circle around the attack chair approvingly. "So... What's your plan so far?" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark looks up and smiles back. "Welcome, Staren. Thank you for coming. The plan so far is one that requires your particular talents to pull off successfully. Thus far, we have frequently had to run from fights due to lack of information. Fleeing from one area to another and hoping to find a waypoint we can use to escape. I have to admit, even for one such as I who is not a fighter, that has become a bit galling. I would like to gather information about the threats we face in advance, and have multiple safe locations to operate from."     He gestures around. "Our selection of 'forward bases' and fall-back positions are minimal. The Church, Tacet Sanctos, and here, essentially. Considering the degree of exploration yet ahead of us, a means of quickly and efficiently scouting a territory, securing it, and establishing a base of operations to launch further missions from is a priority. To that end, I would like to devise both more advanced and more prolific scouting drones, and to employ them in the near future in conjunction with Asterios's ability to create mazes."     Enark starts messing with the slinky. "Here, let me explain with 'Mr. Slinky'." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren nods at the initial summary, and continues listening. "Generalized, autonomous scouting drones as opposed to remote-control ones. Hmmm... Making such that can deal with Lumiere's hazards no doubt includes unique challenges, but it sounds doable. One thing I'm unsure of, though... can constructs remotely activate shrines for us? Or would the plan be to locate them ahead of time and just make a beeline for them?" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark shrugs. "That is one of the things to look for. But we do not know when or if there will be more of them in any given location. So, at least in the case of Escher, there is far too much of it to fully explore in a single life time, or even thousands of life times, without some sort of accelerated transportation method. Our primary objective is securing Escher, however, so another challenge beyond the threat of monsters and what not is establishing safe areas. You recall that Asterios has the means to create a maze or labyrinth from his surroundings? My idea is this."     He collapses the slinky on the graph paper at one point. "We are starting here. Let us say it is this very study. We would like to seal off access points and entry ways surrounding us to keep any unknown threats from sneaking up on us. However, getting there without having our return route cut off by things stalking us, or running into things at our destination both have a high likelihood of occurring. So what we do is this..." He marks a point on he graph paper with a pen. "Our starting point is Point A, and our destination is Point B." He stretches the slinky out so that one end remains at A and the other is at B.     "Asterios rearranges the environment between here and there to be part of his maze. We may still face traps and monsters, but they will be much more manageable, and have much greater control over the environment we fight them in. That is where you come in. We all enter through Point A's end of the Slinky Tunnel, and you send your scouts ahead of us to identify threats. Between you, and Asterios's skills, we should be able to navigate to the other side, where your drones will see if the destination point is clear or not. When it is..."     He collapses the slinky at Point B. "We exit, we seal all the access points, and establish a base camp of some kind, and then we Slinky Tunnel to Point C. Then we just repeat it until we've created a completely cordoned off area within Escher, where we can dispose of any threats at our leisure, and have ourselves a new area to launch further missions from. We do this on each floor, until we reach our next objective!" Enark leans back in his chair, very pleased with himself. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren watches and listens attentively. When he gets it, there's a flicker of something across his face -- recognition of a really great idea, perhaps? "So we don't even need to have them explore and identify key positions, just scout threats ahead. Seems easy enough. I love it! We just fight the things directly in our way, instead of aggroing the whole area... hopefully. I suppose there's a chance some monsters might still ambush us through the maze from the sides, but like you said, we control the environment."     He rubs his chin, looking at the slinky for a moment. "...But how do we know where to pick as Point B, exactly, without scouting it out in the first place?" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark says, "I do not have a complete answer to that. There are many factors, some of which will be burdens upon you. Our stealth experts, I believe, are Count Kord, Priscilla, and... Well, we also had Carna and Crow. But for various reasons they can not be relied upon for this task. I think that on-foot scouting, perhaps supported by your remote control drones, is important. But I also wonder if you have much in the way of sensor arrays and so on?" Enark gets up from his desk, leaving Mr. Slinky where he was last.     "I have an intuitive navigation within the Library, which enables me to find the knowledge I am looking for. If we still had Crow with us, we could ask for a search of maps of the Library. Then we could use those to plan. So at least at first, we will need an armed expedition to locate said maps, with an eye towards stealth where possible, and overwhelming forced when necessary. As mentioned, Priscilla and Kord are our big go-to tickets for that one. But until we have those maps, and even once we do, putting down motion detectors, penetrating sensors that can read through walls, and anything that you can think of in a compact beacon that can be left behind to mark a safe path and alert us to incoming threats or other... Hostile actors." He gestures around vaguely.     "I do not wish to get it into it right now, but we have already seen people not affiliated with us coming from outside of Lumiere for their own ends. There is the possibility they are engaging in their own exploration, and might not be working to the same goals as we are. I'd rather know they are there and what they are up to. Surveillance systems are things we have not set up much of so far here."     He walks over to the table with the metal limbs and such and says, "But yes, avoiding threats for this first phase of obtaining up-to-date maps, both from texts stored here and from 'sensor pings' giving us an idea of the layout... Maybe the sort of thing they use to map underground passages? And if we encounter danger we should eliminate them as quickly and quietly as possible to avoid drawing anything else. You are fairly adept with laser weaponry, yes? Lasers are relatively silent weapons. While they also stand out in the dark, in a close-range ambush scenario, it is more important to take out the threats and move on. It could at least give us the time to retrace our steps using the beacons." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "'Sensor arrays' is somewhat vague language." Staren points out before listening to further explanation.     "Well." He starts pacing. "There's nothing like scrying. A passive sensor needs to have something to sense, like light shining on it from far away, possibly reflected off a distant object. An active sensor emits something that interacts with the world in an observable way... which can also be observed by anything capable of sensing it. If Lumiere's geography permitted, we could build a high tower somewhere with a powerful telescope on top to look around with... but there are so many areas enclosed or possibly even in other, only partially connected dimensions or something."     "As for sensors that look through walls... the specifics depend on the wall and what you want to see through it, but constantly active sensing takes energy. Placing sensors around our path during a mission might work, but they wouldn't remain active indefinitely. And wouldn't the slinky tunnel strategy change their positioning once the tunnel collapses so Asterios can make the next one?"     "Mapping the library using ground-penetrating radar or the like... I'm not sure how well it works with the materials the library's made of -- esoteric sensors aren't really my specialty, I know the most about combat robots, not mining. But I'll look into it."     "As for lasers..." He shrugs. "While the laser itself is silent, putting that much energy into harming something probably isn't. The target may explode, or at least scream. It's like a silencer on a firearm -- it doesn't hide that a gunshot went off, but it does make it harder to pinpoint the shooter. There... may be something we can come up with for a more effective 'quiet weapon', but without some kind of supernatural silencing effect, you're going to have to deal with, one way or another, you're transferring a lot of energy, and that tends to make noise. And if you don't kill the target fast enough, it might make noise too. For things like non-supernaturally-tough fauna, it might take less power so you can kill them quietly, but most things that will be a danger to us are probably too tough for silent takedowns without Priscilla or Kord or something." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark listens closely, stroking his chin. "I see, I see. Yes, I sometimes forget the disparity in technology levels. A sensory array or a guidance buoy are relatively common technology in the era I lived in. Passive and active sensors were included in a compact bundle a bit like an antennae, which could be attached to various surfaces. I know hoe they work and how to use them, but would not be able to builld one myself. A bit like how most people know how to use a computer, perhaps even repair one, but very few people could turn all the raw materials into the components needed and then assemble them. The burden was taken over by automation at some point, leading to specialized, distributed mass production."     He shakes his head. "Well, at least a trail of 'bread crumbs' in the form of beacons so that if something unusual happens, or the terrain shifts, or... Whatever, people can still navigate back even if they go in deeply, that would be something to consider. Your drones can function as surveillance systems, if I recall, so perhaps placing them so that once we've cordoned off the area we want to render safe, we have a record of anything that has entered or departed the area while we were closing the other access points?" He rubs his head.     "I have spent so much time dealing in arcana that trying to devise scientific solutions again is making me feel like I am exercising parts of my brain left unused for too long. At any rate, the beacons would only be for the first phase: finding and returning with up-to-date records of the layout of Escher. Asterios seems to use some form of stealth as well when he makes his maps, so we might actually be able to save some time by just creating an elite stealth unit to go along with him. Then you and I and Kushiko, and some of our stronger fighters... Perhaps Tomoe, can look for the actual texts and documents we desire."     He smiles hopefully. "Between the different detection abilities we three possess, and Tomoe's skill at protecting us while we do so, we should be able to get what we are after quickly and get back. We will have an immediate map of the surroundings thanks to Asterios and his team, and can plan for the future and the other floors we will eventually be going to with what we retrieve. It makes more sense than wandering about in an unwieldly group in confined spaces, or having one team sit out and do nothing while waiting for the other, at least. But if you have any improvements, I am open to them." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren shrugs as Enark proposes using the beacons for monitoring. He's stopped pacing for the moment, looking at Enark. "Yeah, something like that. And of course, we could have drones place sensory arrays at distant sites of interest."     Staren nods. "Yeah. The batteries last about four days on the sensors so we can just set them up wherever to watch. Can last even longer if instead of recording and transmitting constantly, they only start when detecting movement or something. Tradeoffs. Of course, in any sort of longer-term base, as long as we have a power source, we could have a drone go around replacing the batteries as needed."     He starts pacing again. "Seismic sensing is loud and will probably wake up anything in the library. I'm not sure about radar, but if the reflection of air, floor, and bookshelves is different enough, we might be able to get some layout information. Won't be as precise as just sending drones with cameras to map it, but..." he shrugs. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark claps his hands together, grinning. "...But we will make do and we will figure it out. We have plenty of time to test and improve as well. Lumiere as been around for a very long time. It is not going to disappear tomorrow, or a week from now, or anything like that." He lets out a sigh as he looks up and around at these same walls he has stared at for far too long. Going over the same books until he couldn't stand the sight of them anymore, and had to find his escape in madness and the blank whiteness of Escher-space below them. "You know, I was a teacher in life. But I always wanted to be an astronaut. The space program was pretty much collapsed by the time I was born. Too much destruction from the apocalypse, and the need for resources in other areas. We needed to rebuild what we had in order to even think about finding somewhere better. But I always wanted to see the Earth from space. To walk on the Moon or another planet, and just... Explore. To go where no one had ever gone before."     He looks at a worn tome about astronomy. "I actually found a view of the Underworld Moon from the Crimson King's palace in one of those doors in Escher-space. But what I really wanted to find was a view of Earth. I thought maybe if I just wandered long enough, eliminated doors and combinations of doors, I would eventually find it."     He looks at Staren. "I suppose I have gotten to do some of that exploration now, at least. Thanks to the Multiverse, and thanks to you. Everyone who saved me, gave me this chance. And now, after all this time, we are making progress." He grins lopsidedly. "We can only go up from here. I get the feeling that, finally, things will turn out all right in the end." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren listens, smiling upon hearing that Enark's gotten to live a dream held for... possibly billions of years, who knows? "Well, you're welcome to come look at other Earths any time. As for the doors... do we know why they appear where they do? If they had to be placed... then if noone's been to space to place them, there wouldn't be any."     He scratches the back of his neck. "Man. I feel like statements like 'it's not like Lumiere is going to disappear tomorrow' and 'I get the feeling that things will turn out all right in the end' are going to jinx things, but you know, after someone points that out, they never turn out to be jinxed, so I guess we'll be alright." He smiles again. 
}}

5659/Good Night, Moon - Act V

2018-02-02T06:03:23Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/01/26 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=A play in five parts. Part five. |Cast of Characters=974, 954, 1067, 964, 774, 513, 6 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/01/26
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=A play in five parts. Part five.
|Cast of Characters=974, 954, 1067, 964, 774, 513, 6
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The intermission is a little bit longer this time. It seems that a great deal is being set up behind the curtains. Given how swiftly they have swapped out props, scenery, and costumes thus far, that must mean something big is on the way. Fitting for the dramatic conclusion to this perfromance. Though when all this is done, there are likely to be questions that need asking and answers that need answering. But for now, after an extended wait, which the Lanterns seem not to notice as readily due to their heavily distorted sense of time (though with how much has changed about their lives and experiences thanks to this play in such a short span of time, it must seem the equivalent of the world transforming at light speed for them).     Still, eventually, the curtains part once more. Where the story left off, Sol and his companions had claimed and begun to rebuild an abandoned ancient city in the Fourth Candle -- the highest point in Lumiere, where the link between the lands of the dead and the living could be found. And they were being challenged by a great army.     The background is entirely of this castle-city now, with the actors who played Sol, Dullahan the Dream Knight, the Seer of the Styx, Princess Tome of Kadath, and Atemnu of the Sands all gathered upon the ramparts overlooking the wastes of the Fourth Candle. Silhouettes of an army below are cast through the use of lights and cardboard cut-outs to indicae an amassing of many troops, though there is obviously a limit to how many exactly they can fit on the stage's backdrop.     "'Invaders! Invaders!' yelled the army." the narrator begins.     "Sol attempted to communicate with them, saying, 'Identify yourselves, you have come in such force against so few!'"     "But the army only said, 'Invaders! Invaders!' and raised their weapons."     "'We are not invaders. Many with us are simply those seeking to continue their pilgrimmage to the World of the Living!' protested Sol."     "'Invaders! Invaders!' was the army's cry."     "This continued, as the others stood by and watched. Sol had been lauded as having the potential to be king, due to all he had accomplished, and how he treated his fellow souls. But for all the challenges he had faced, he had overcome them readily. No matter the obstacle, none had truly stopped his progress. And now, he could see only conflict as the answer if this army were to attack, for they would not listen to him. The Seer, however, had another suggestion." 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord's gaze flicks between Sol and the army. The narration explains something of a familiar problem: The refusal to communicate. He looks with sympathy at the depiction of Sol, moreso now than before, but flicks his eyes to the Seer when a suggestion is mentioned. He untenses from the more aggravating aspects of this play for him, with the pause between acts giving him some time to mellow out. Some of his experiences here in Lumiere mean that the story has a strong effect on him.     He's still frowning. He hasn't enjoyed this story from the beginning. He has the air of a studious soul, not one who is entertained. 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' Flint and Silver both seem to have some familiarity with what's going on in the plot, even if they both react to it differently. Flint meets the cries of the army with something like bitter acceptance, while Silver's expression is one of muted dread. The both of them have some experience with calming unruly, unreasonable crowds of armed men, since their crew is very often one such crowd. For Silver, who's never had a command responsibility before, the realization that it's not /just/ the Walrus crew that acts this way seems to have opened his eyes.      Both men are the edges of their seats, neither one wanting to draw attention away from what's likely to be the most important moment in the play. The army's not listening to Sol's attempts to reason, which means without some sort of intervention from another party, or an extreme show of skill from Sol and his companions, the pilgrimmage ends here. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Probably just as well they took the time they did, given what happened last time. The passage of time doesn't particularly bother the Tenno, with the Mag of Kushiko's simply just 'sitting' as she is inclined to do. And by sitting we mean meditatively sitting cross legged, floating quietly at the end of one of the rows of seats for not wanting to actually occupy a seat she did not need. In a night of performance already filled with auspicious implications, she found herself in quiet anticipation of how it may yet resolve. Though when it comes to the army, her own instincts in a different situation, when faced with something like that is the thrill of a potential fight yet to come. The way the army is reacting seems a bit off to her, though remains something she is resolved to wait and see as to why, rather than speculating. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian isn't surprised by this, by the army that refuses to listen. Thedas is much the same, particularly if one is a mage in Ferelden. Or a Tevinter... pretty much anywhere that's NOT Tevinter. Besides that, one doesn't send warriors to be diplomats.     Nonetheless, he does frown at this development, leaning forward to prop his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand. It's a gesture and an expression of concentration. He is also curious about this other suggestion; generally when one party is determined to fight, a fight is going to happen.     Of course he's also leery -- one does have to wonder how the world got like it is now. Where did things go wrong? Was it just one thing? If so, was it THIS 'suggestion'? Is he about to see where everything started unraveling? Or had it already begun in this story? 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna's not used to being PATIENT for anything. All this waiting and preparations have her itching to start browsing the seating and finding someone to pester and tease as a source of amusement and distraction from the QUIET.     She has a few reasons to dislike being off by herself, alone, and surrounded by silence, save perhaps when resting.     So when the set is once again revealed she jumps forth to the edge of her seat to peer carefully at the play,practically devouring what's there to see with a wandering gaze!     "Well. THAT escalated quickly. Who fields a whole army against a small, powerful team?" She's tempted to sarcastically add, 'that never goes well' based on some things she's seen, but bites her tongue... and leaves it peaking out the side of her mouth instead.     The smartassed expression dims though as she focuses on the story again.     "... WHOSE army is this anyways...?" 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' the Intermission takes a bit longer, and Tomoe is all right with that she has a chance to think about what she's seen so far in the play. It certainly proving to be quite enlightening about the possible past of this ruined world. Also she thought the extra time get the native audiance members time to calm down after what just happened last time. The army has met Sol and she wonders how this will play out. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The Seer, a woman in a hooded robe, with gnarled, bandaged hands, steps up behind Sol and speaks to him. "'I foresee that a battle would be devastating here. You are one whose light has dispelled the darkness. But now, as you faced this army of shadows, the intensity of your soul only deepens their own convictions. They resist you because you are opposed in fundamental nature.'"     Sol's actor turns to the Seer and asks, "'What would you have me do? If they will not converse, if they will not be reasoned with, if they do not even say what it is they desire, and bring against me and those under my protection threat of arms, how would a king dissuade such forces if not by conquering and scattering them as I have the other foes before now?'"     "The Seer laughed at Sol. 'Oh, you think yourself a king now, simply because you have a castle? After all your humility in the other Candles, you have claimed the right of kingship for yourself, merely because others assert that you are befitting the role? You amuse me with your change in attitude, Sol.'" The Seer takes several steps away, trying to guide Sol by the arm to speak with her 'privately' away from the others.     "However, if it is kingship you seek, then you must temper you growing hubris, and you must earn the right to call yourself king. You have faced many challenges, but none have truly tested your character. Here, in the Fourth Candle, where all unnecessary trappings of the soul should be stripped away, you stand boasting of your authority and speaking for many other souls. You deny being an invader even as you stand upon the stones placed by another, or perhaps grown here by Lumiere itself. Is arrogance your core? Is your pride what guides you to declare yourself ruler? Is being boastful the essence of the King of the Fourth Candle? What have you left behind to ascend this high? Nothing. You have only gained and gained."     Sol staggers and falls to one knee before the Seer. "'You are right,' he admitted. 'I thought that all my experienced alone were enough to enrich me; that the destinies I changed, the lives I improved through my strength and my words, were evidence of my growth. But now when faced with a strange foe, their refusal to listen to words means I fall back immediately upon violence? I truly do not deserve to be king.'" 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     And then there's a shake of Dorian's head. He's not the sort to be able to understand much of sacrifice, to be honest, despite willingly leaving of Tevinter and all its hedonistic excesses. But isn't that part of the deal? To fight to keep everything that one worked for? Hadn't Sol worked to get this far? Wasn't he entitled to everything he'd gained? What value could giving it up place on everything he'd gained? More than that, what value did that place on everyone else's efforts if he just gave it up?     Dorian waits for this to play out, then, since it all seems to fly in the face of conventional reasoning. It could be a clue. And it could be useful later, to know what tactic was used. Though Dorian finds it unlikely that he should be in any position similar, it could be worth remembering. 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' Humbling the man who would be king isn't where either of the pirates thought this story would go. The soldiers, ironically, were right--though Sol's change of heart with regards towards violence draws a sigh from Flint.      Silver looks curiously over, only to find that the captain is paying attention to the play. The annoyed frown on his face confirms the quartermaster's suspicion. "Hoping for a fight?"      "You wouldn't understand," he says to Silver. Probably a poor choice of words, and one that'll be sure to see this subject brought up again, but it buys him some time to explain it properly sometime later. The ends absolutely justify the means. If the soldiers won't listen to reason, or give any reasons of their own, then they deserve whatever Sol gives them, whether they're meant to be a test by some outside power or not. Surely, if such a power is present, it doesn't expect someone to come this close to enlightenment and just give it up. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe feels a shudder inwardly at the process of how souls were treated here. Not a fate she'd want to suffer but she watches listening thinging as sol seems to have his chracter challenged at this point, and he admits he does not deseve to be king an interesting bit. Also the comments from her compansions also tell her a bit more about them too. Such as with Flint and Silver. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     "Shadows."     Kord straightens in his seat as he realizes what they are. Shades. Shadows, perhaps similar to previous examples he's sighted. Again, there they are, a strange impression of people, lacking the complexity that normal humanity possesses. "Is this where he came from...? These shades, perhaps?" he thinks aloud, "They were there in the court, too... Opposed to the Light, hmm?"     He smiles, briefly, as it gives him an idea. He doesn't seem fixated on the story, his mind going elsewhere for now. Sol's plight is largely ignored here, as Kord carries no empathy for this moment. His eyes follow other points of the play, the other characters. The Seer's behavior draws his eyes.     "What is the depth of himself he is meant to discard?" he wonders. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna's skeptical of this development. It speaks of a sense of morality and give and take that's fundamentally opposed to much of her belief systems. To gain and to gain and to gain whatever one can, and hold it, that is the nature of life! If you lose something, it's because you were not capable of holding onto it or did not wish to hard enough.     So she purses her lips and folds her arms uncertainly at this turn in the story.     Quite unexpectedly she abandons Dorian by vaulting over the crowd... and lands withan almost weightless impact on the stone bench next to Captain Flint and John Silver.     "... What do you make of this, o men who refute their would-be king? Is Sol wrong...?" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The Seer looks down, then, and decides to give Sol advice, seeing he was truly repentant for his hastiness and ego.     "'You speak of changing destinies. Does a single bolt of lightning that strikes in the forest, starting a fire, know the fire's destiny? It is but there fleetingly, touching off sparks, does not see how the flames might spread, and can not conceive of the world beyond the trees. Gaining humility is indeed important -- to not become swollen with gladness at one's own accomplishments. You, who have been called the 'Hero King', must always remember your origins, rather than the praise heaped upon you.'"     "'You are the lightning bolt, that brings brief illumination, and sends out sparks. But you must become the flame, to ascend past the vestiges of your mortal existence. And to do that, you must gather to you those you have touched, and those who have touched you in kind. You must remember they who helped you come this far, and treasure them and those you would protect above yourself.'"     The Seer then looks out upon the army below. "'And you must find one to be your other half, who will match your soul, and fill the missing parts, so that you can be Balanced with the world. There is a Crown you must claim if you are to be king. It will show you the way to the future, the destinies you seek to influence. It will show you how to end this without losing everyone around you, and possibly losing yourself as well.'"     "'It is the Blackened Crown, a ring forged in the Flames of Prophecy, by mighty Urthona, in the Eternity before time itself. It will show you the future, but it will be up to you to enact or change it.'"     Sol rises and says, "'I do not doubt what you say is true. But is it your abilities as a Seer that make you so certain that this Army of Shadows will overcome us were we to clash?'"     The Seer feigns laughing. Another alien behavior these Lanterns watching probably do not understand at all. What joy is there in this existence, after all? "'Hahaha. No, it is only common sense. Your soul is light. Theirs is darkness. The brighter the light, the deeper the darkness. All you could do is make them stronger with your resistance, until your own light is extinguished. The battle would be decided before it even began. A king should know better than to fight such an engagement. Come now, leave this to those you have entrusted. Out in the wastes of this place, the Blackened Crown awaits.'" 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' <"What is sacrifice?"> Kushiko's voice is quiet, moving amidst Tomoe, Kord, Finna and perhaps even Dorian and Flint among them. The question isn't one meant to be answered. The voice of a young girl, briefly contemplative. <"We grow, we change because something, even if it is seemingly small, is given as payment. There is always a price to pay, for power, even if that cost is delayed."> Such words were spoken only as the Seer's words were concluded--at least, for the time being. <"Balance must be held, at the end."> 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' Silver scoffs at Finna--after overcoming his initial awe at her acrobatics. He's still a little new to open displays of power from Elites. "Contrary to what the crown says, there's a difference between a criminal and a revolutionary," he says. Though he might appear quite physically different than when the two first met, there are aspects of his personality that remain. Perhaps some time with Flint will strip him of his trend towards self-preservation.      "Considering the treatment they receive, the distinction is lagely academic," Flint retorts. With a glance towards Finna and an expression entirely without Silver's wonderment, the captain offers an actual answer to her question. "He's wrong to doubt himself. He gave them a chance for diplomacy, which they refused. That makes them an enemy. If there's to be a sacrifice, it shouldn't be his conviction, or his ambition, that's offered." 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     A thoughtful look... that actually makes some degree of sense, Dorian realizes. Speaking completely figuratively, the more light shines, the greater the shadows become. Sol's light would only cast the shadows in greater relief. And there's something to be said for delegation of duties -- one man can't do everything himself, even if he can't technically die. So perhaps it's better left to others, in that case.     Things are starting to fall into place for Dorian. About Lumiere, about the state of the world, and what's basically causing it. The concept of reincarnation isn't really new to Dorian. And that seems to be what all this is a metaphor for -- not just not-dying, but living again, even if it means dying first. There's something broken here, that cycle has stopped. This could be how it was broken. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "Ooooogh... I've made a few blunders. Hardly wrong to doubt yourself and take a step back. Buuuut... yeah, it's either push on or turn back and make everything for nothing. They're an enemy alright!" Finna admits, albeit a bit reluctantly and with a rarely seen dash of humility and embarassment flushing across her cheeks.     "Third option's great if you can find it, sure! ...But this funky quest to the ends of Lumiere and back over it's a bit much! I wonder..."     Spotting Silver's expression, Finna SMILES teasily at the man. "So what is that difference?" 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe pauses for a moment at what Kushiko says what is sacrifice? It's a good questiont o ask about something like this. Tomoe has no answer to the question though and wisely does not say a thing in turn ither than. "I do not know." To the Tenno She's not sure what to say but she does watch tthe play onwards, "Hummmm. I think I have an idea of what's going on." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The curtains sweep closed. Another intermission, it seems, though a briefer one, as a few things get moved around. It is only a minute or two at most. When the curtains open, the background has changed. It is still a city-castle of sorts, but the buildings are all upside-down. The Heroine, Los, and Maretta appear to be gathered in this place. "'Here is where the killers of the Silent Lord of Haunted Cavern have been tracked to. The unknown assailants slew him in the Second Candle and fled here, to the underside of Lumiere.'"     "Los, who had been seated upon the throne, and not engaged in combat, had been told he was important and necessary to this task. And yet, it appeared they were facing assassins. He had, of course, brought with him armed forced to aid him. He was the King. Exposing himself to attack by assassins would not do. And yet, he could not see in what way he personally was required. 'You wish me to have my soldiers scour these ruins?' he asked hesitantly, used to being coerced or instructed what to do, after so long being managed by his advisors."     The Heroine turns to Los and asks, "'Is that what you think you should do?'"     Los seems taken aback, and looks at the soldiers behind him uncertainly. Then he stands up straighter and says, "'I think that we should close off access to this place at once, to keep the assassins from escaping. If they slew a Lord of Silence, they can not be feeble foes, no matter what trickery they employed. The God of Invention has recently devised tools which gather Moonlight. They might permit us to transport forces into this location without undoing the seal.'"     The Heroine nods. "'That seems a solid course of action. I alone could not hold this entire abandoned city against those seeking escape. Maretta and I shall seek signs of the assassins and their camp while barricades are established.'"     "Los, after so long having independence and self-worth beaten out of him by the undercutting of his supposed influence by others, began to feel pride in his ability to aid the one whom he had fallen in love with so long ago. He became bolder in manner and speech, and when he returned to the palace to contact the God of Invention, he was assertive in his instructions, and Cro agreed to the test of the new devices." 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' "A criminal isn't doing what he's doing to pick a fight," says Silver, not attempting to hide that observation from Flint in the slightest.      "Whereas a revolutionary has more on the mind than simple survival," Flint says without taking his eyes off of the play. "But... both men must be painted as monstrous, lest people realize survival and change can happen without a king's approval."      "There, see," says Silver, as if it weren't obvious. "/He's/ the one going around refuting kings."      "I'd have no problem with kings, if it weren't for the tendency for power to be entwined with money. Even Los can't escape it--everything he's tried to do has been frustrated or undercut by the nobles." Hopefully, the real Los kept the confidence he gained. But, something about the current state of this place casts a pall on the eventual fate of both Los and his friend Sol. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' A slight, ambivalent motion from the Tenno in response mostly to Tomoe, given the momentum forward in the play itself. She was seeing where this could lead, where the shadows and light would inevitably come to a head. The calamity was certain to be coming, but how much of it through the play would be truth, and how much would be merely the vehicle to entertain. <"The both of them are like a mirrored cycle. To their lowest points, to their highest points."> the Tenno observes. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Flint's assertions and the events happening on stage draw a big sigh from Kord. He watches the interactions and briefly squints at the mention of the God of Invention once again being relevant here.     "They should have stayed in the same place," he murmurs, repeating a sentiment he had earlier in the play, "He'll never survive this change without someone close by. They'll pick a different king the moment it suits them." 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' The show goes on and Tomoe watches with a good deal of atten5tion now. She does comment to Flint and Silver on kings. "I can get that, but when it comes to kings it's playing a dice game. You could get a good ruler who gives a damn, or a someone you need to get the old heave ho. I don't think there is a perfect system of government out there." She gets The Tennos response or so she thinks for a moment. "Two sides of the same coin?" 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "They're clearly trying to put him somewhere else for their convenience... Assassination, maybe. Or just spreading rumors..." Finna scowls at how naive Los appears to be in regards to this job of his.     She shrugs helplessly at Silver. "... And you're the guy who's tromping around with him, with a whole Multiverse to explore!" She cannot HELP but tease, apparently.     "One day, I should explain my people's way to you.... this poor Los fellow could've used a bit of barbarian in him." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The actors are dimmed in the (somehow gray-hued) lights of the stage in this 'underneath Lumiere' location, and a panorama of sorts plays, demonstrating the actions of the Heroine, Los, and Maretta. Exploring, building, camping and laughing together, and seemingly both Los and Maretta making advances on the Heroine at different times, to no avail. There are battles against assassins, and some sort of skeletal centipede thing. Los is injured at one point, and the Heroine defends him while the tiny white-haired girl, Maretta, faces off against a pillar of skulls and arms.     The narrator briefly describes the events. "Time passed as these three, with the occasional involvement of the God of Invention, routed out evil from the underbelly of Lumiere, the domain below Lostrata, and yet not quite at the very bottom. They bonded, and Los began to heal his spirit, while the machinations of the nobles went unchecked at court. However, the pride of the people in their King as he disposed of the things that had threatened the most impoverished, they who still yet dwelled in the abandoned reaches, grew and grew. And as he came to know them, he made providing them what they lacked a priority. In all ways, simply being with the Heroine had made him become a better peson, one happier with his existence, and happier to help others in any way he could."     "Maretta saw the way that Los viewed the one she loved in turn, and felt she could do nothing to stand between them, just as she could not stand between the Heroine and Sol. But she hoped that, by becoming more responsible, and having the ability to help many, that, like Los, she could become better and more fitting a soul mate as well. So she returned from whence she came, to the Manufactory established on the Moon by the God of Invention, and there took command of building protectors for the people, and forces who could physically build a better Lumiere through tireless labor, without making any soul suffer." Maretta is darkened completely as she leaves the party.     "And then came the dread news that another Lord of Silence had fallen. The Silent Lord of Ashen Sky, slain in the Fourth Candle. The Heroine had to leave, to find whomever was responsible, before any more Lords fell. So she left the matter of handling Lostrata to Los once again." The Heroine is darkened as she withdraws to tend to this new crisis.     "The soldiers that had fought alongside Los and done his will in clearing the lower reaches of Lumiere, found themselves replaced by a new armed force, called the Gargoyle Knights. Unwanted children augmented with the research of Prospero, the Court Wizard, with the aid of Cro, the God of Invention." The soldiers are darkened and withdraw as well, leaving only Los alone on the stage.     "And so Los, who had been made to feel he mattered, that he still had value and command as King, had his pride shattered once more, and was gripped by jealousy as the one whom he loved ran back to the friend he had grown to resent. And in this moment of darkness and despair, that is when he began to hear whispers." 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' With these details, some of what she and the others had done so far in Lumiere, falls alarmingly more in place. She unfolds from her meditative position she had floating, simply standing. Even without eyes on the Mag Warframe, there's a sense of incredulousness, recognition dawning, before her head canted slightly more focused to where Kord was. It was troubling to put it mildly, especially given the Candle that was mentioned where the Lord of Silence had fallen. Coupled with Los' now being pulled back beneath the mire that surrounded the duty he wasn't allowed to... ...whispers. It was a curious sound that emanated from her, one of discontent as much as keen interest in what was to come. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     That simple? Surely not. But Dorian can see now that it wasn't just one event that brought it all down. It was a combination of many things, as he'd thought -- a 'perfect storm' of sorts. Though Dorian can't help but jokingly think, ''('This is why I stay away from women!')'' Though he knows that wasn't completely the problem.     Insightful, though, and it's giving him some ideas. But this does look like the part where things begin to unravel in earnest. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe says "Love can make a person crazy..." She would know that from personal experiance with herself but then comes the line about Los hearing whispers and Tomoe cringes she freezes there in place. "Whispers." She shudders a bit about this she has an idea of where this is going to go but then again on some level she had an idea of how the end might be. 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' "I don't know of any who'd refer to their own people as barbarians," says the captain. Apparently, the word has something of a derogatory bent on his world. "But, I'd welcome the chance to learn about them."      John Silver looks as if Finna's retort has brought some sudden revelation to him, his brows furrowed and his lips pulled into a thoughtful frown. He really has been following Flint around, hasn't he? Well... yes. With a look to his prosthetic, he realizes he made that decision some time ago, too.      Flint didn't believe that Los' confidence would last--and he was right. It looks as if it festered into anger and from that, into... madness? Thus, the transformation of friends into rivals. A confrontation between Los and Sol seems inevitable at this point. Was Sol the one killing Silent Lords? 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna knows that look! Even if she can't read minds, she knows the look in Silver's eyes. She cracks the briefest of grins, but shifts attention over to Flint. "Oh? I'll tell you all about it later!"     Then her gaze shifts back to the play. Once again she's scowling. ".. After I digest THIS..." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The curtains close once more, for one last change in scenery. It is, again, brief. When the curtains open again, it is on a split between the Palace in Lostrata, and the castle-city in Ashron, the Fourth Candle. On one side, Los sits on his throne in contemplation, surrounded by sycophants, nobles fancing themselves, short figures in armor, and a cloaked and masked figures skulking in the shadows.     On the other side, Sol seems to have returned with the Blackened Crown, now wearing it upon his head, to discover the siege of the castle-city is over, and his allies stand triumphant over them.     The light shifts to blue tone as it focused upon Sol. "'Where has the Army of Shadows gone?' asked Sol, the new King of the Fourth Candle, having claimed the Blackened Crown from its previous bearer with the Seer's aid."     Dullahan turns, wielding a segmented whip in hand. "'Princess Tome spoke with them. They became less hostile after you left, but still would not negotiate. Atemnu hunted within the castle and found the discarded markers of many of the Dead who failed to achieve Enlightenment, for they could not leave behind the last dregs of their mortality to be reborn. It turned them into these Shades. Between Atemnu and I, we destroyed the soul markers, freeing the Shades from their confinement on this plane. It took quite some time, but now the Army of Shadows is no more, banished to whatever Deathly place remains for the dregs of a soul denied physical existence.'" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Sol falls to his hands and knees as Dullahan turns away. "What the others did not know, was that Sol had discovered the Army of Shadows had not come to attack them, nor were their cries of 'Invaders!' meant for they who held the city. It was a warning. A warning that terrible creatures were coming from the fallen Fifth Candle, Nu'Ulzan. They, who had wandered so long, lost in their inability to let go of their mortal desire to be of use, to achieve something meaningful, had wanted to fight for Sol as the King's army, and defeat these foes. And now it was too late."     "With the loss of hope, and the visions shown to him by the Crown, Sol lost the last of who he had been as a mortal man. He transformed into another. One who could fulfill the role of King as he had been destined to, without the weight of human weaknesses like the lie of a happy future."     Princess Tome turns to Sol. "'I see my King has returned. Perhaps now that he has his Crown, he would like to choose his Queen?' the princess hinted, emboldened by her success in protecting those in the castle."     "He who had lost the capacity for hope, was unable to deny it to others. Despite his feelings for the Heroine, who was no longer there, and had never returned those feelings, he knew his future now. He had been too late to change it. He rose, and said, in a voice that wanted to tremble with emotion, with despair, but could only boom in the manner of a bold king such as he, 'I gladly would have you by my side. But from this point forward, I shall be called Solumnus. Now, I have foreseen a great threat. We shall need to prepare for it. Let us go and speak with my old friend of the First Candle, and see if he will lend us aid in repelling the invaders to come.'"     The Heroine then walks in from off-stage. "And it was then the Heroine arrived, and saw the Blackened Crown once worn by the Silent Lord of Ashen Sky upon the brow of Solumnus, and knew immediately both who the assassin of this second Lord was, and who must have told him of the Crown, and lured him into claiming it."     The Heroine draws her blade, and the background turns to fire reds, and stage-thunder peals through the stage, as she leaps forth and cuts down the Seer. "It was the Silent Lord of Water who had led the new King astray. And now, having slain one of the Silent Lords herself, only one remained." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     "'It was necessary,' said the Lord of Water to her killer, as her body was consumed by a splinter of Eternal flame. 'For what is to come, he had to be able to foresee it and fight against it. If he does not stop this threat, there will be no one left to stop the next. You will see that what I have done was for the best, in time.'" Then the Seer dramatically falls to the ground, and the bright colors fade as the Heroine sheathes her sword.     "When the news reached Los, that Solumnus had become a King himself, and taken command of the Fourth Candle, that he had slain one of the Silent Lords, and so had the Heroine, just as the assassins that the Heroine had gained his help in finding, his resentment became hatred. He banned the influence of all other Kings from his domain, and closed his borders. He decided that to surpass Solumnus, who had reached the peak of Lumiere and taken control over the place that the Dead had to pass through for reincarnation, he would have to devise a way to travel directly from Lostrata to Ashron, both to allow the Dead to reincarnate without their pilgrimmage, and as a method of invading his rival King's domain."     "He became a lord of blood and fear, and when Los and Sol next met, Los would be known as the Crimson King, and Solumnus, the Heroine, the new Seer of the Styx, Maretta, and many others, would all be thrown into battle together."     The curtains close. "But that... Is another story."     When the curtains open again, all of the actors and actresses are assembled on stage together. They bow or curtsey as one.     The Lanterns, not knowing what to do, either mimic the clapping from earlier, or simply sit and stand in silence, waiting, not realizing it is over. Not until the curtains close for the final time, and the Midnight Troupe begins to take apart their stage, already preparing to move on. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     A complicated betrayal. But a betrayal nonetheless. More than one betrayal in fact. A cascade of them. Dorian sighs a bit. It does make him a little homesick, honestly. But it also is one hell of a warning. One that, finally, causes a shudder of something resembling fear to wind down his spine.     ...Will Tevinter end up anything like this dark and barren place (albeit on a smaller scale) if things don't change there...? If so, then it's even more important that something be done about the corruption there, before a knife is sunk into the heart of the empire itself, and Tevinter as a whole dies.     Nonetheless, as the curtains fall again, Dorian once more begins to applaud, though softer. And he notes to a nearby Lantern for a reminder, "This is how you show appreciation for the job that the actors have done. And it was indeed quite a job!" Telling a story and giving a warning. And possibly renewed the resolve or the one bastion against corruption in an almost totally corrupted empire... 
}}

5634/Good Night, Moon - Act IV

2018-02-02T04:32:04Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/01/13 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=A play in five parts. Part four. |Cast of Characters=974, 513, 774, 6, 1067, 964, 954 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/01/13
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=A play in five parts. Part four.
|Cast of Characters=974, 513, 774, 6, 1067, 964, 954
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     During the last performance, they learned of two men with very similar names. One was taken in by the nobles of Lostrata. The other recruited by the Heroine that had been such a great force for change there in the First Candle. Despite the time that passed, they made the effort to get to know each other better, to maintain ties, and meet up regularly to discuss what each had learned. The seeming tragedy of two strangers who wished to be friends drifting apart is seemingly being actively subverted by their efforts.     And yet, the narrator said this was a tragedy, yes? That there was a rivalry between them? So where does that come in? The fourth act is about to begin. How many more are left?     And that message about the Wandering Eye, also known the Underworld Moon, or Luna, watching and learning from others acted... Internalizing both bad and good. What will such an alien being turn out to be in the end? 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "Los... Lostrata... Los." Finna's leaning back on the bench, arms folded, tail now slapping the stone periodically. She looks a bit troubled to say the least at the turn of events in this story...     Both ears lay flat to her head, twitching periodically as she simultaneously taps a finger against the opposing arm, wearing a mighty frown. The performance is GREAT, but the story's bothering her...     Briefly she casts her gaze off into the distance, perhaps wondering if there's any way to reach the world Lumiere once connected to. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian's sort of choreographing most of this, in a way. He's seeing where it's going fall apart, he thinks. But in a rare case of knowing when to SHUT HIS MOUTH, he's kept his opinions about how he thinks the story is going to go mostly to himself. Unless someone asks, of course.     For the time being he just wants to watch and see if he's connecting things the way they're going to actually go. A part of him wonders how accurate all of this is. But then again, he could ask the same about early Tevinter history -- so long's passed that nobody's sure what's real and what isn't.     So instead of a snarky smirk, Dorian's actually wearing a very thoughtful look on his face. It makes him look older, and the dark Tevinter fashion he's wearing doesn't hurt in the area of his looking 'mature', either. He's going to hate himself later for being so introspective; he doesn't want wrinkles. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' The play has proven to be quite good so far, but at this point? She's almost certain this is some of this world's history being told to her. She does seem to niot have much to say out loud but she is listening to the pirate crew as they speak for a moment. 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' The dynamic of two friends becoming rivals isn't lost on either of the pirates in the audience. Once, a clean-shaven, able bodied John Silver had told Flint that the two of them might be friends by the time the Urca hunt was over. That was months ago, but the younger pirate still often finds himself wondering where he stands with the captain. Perhaps it's time to find out?      Silver looks over at Flint. "Do you remember what I told you before we took the Urca?" The choice of 'we' is important--controlling the narrative to make it sound as if he stood in solidarity with the Walrus, rather than acting for his own survival.      "I remember threatening your life to ensure the accuracy of your recollection," says Flint flatly, not bothering to turn his head towards Silver.      As the preparations for the next act continue, Silver is left to pick up the pieces of that attempt. "I could've left any time after you took the prize," he abruptly states, before leaning back in his seat with a threatening creak of wood. They really scrounged to put the seating together, didn't they?      Flint can't deny Silver's assertion is true. At least, he could've /tried/ to leave. And the captain's not sure he would've stopped Silver. That he stayed past the Urca hunt for other jobs was mildly surprising. His sacrifice, however, was cause for a serious re-evaluation of the man's character. "I believe I see what you're getting at," he says. "I think you've proven yourself worth some extra responsibilities aboard the Walrus. We'll discuss it later. For now, let's enjoy the play." 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Clearly, they're arriving at the tragedy forewarned at the beginning of the play itself. Yet there's many pieces here that could coincide with what's going on in the interim. Kushiko half-imagined Enark would be simply unable to contain himself were he here. An aside look towards Finna. Well, at least they had a potential surrogate in that department at least, at least earlier on. Still, there's little she has to venture as the play goes, at least just yet, having since migrated relatively closer to where the other Elites were presently. What she does say is for Dorian at least. <"Someone looks thoughtful, and here he led me to believe he was hardly that serious."> the young girl that that guides the Mag alludes quietly. It's half of a tease, but at the same time, recognizing the problems that are yet to come. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The lights dim as before, pushed out by blue-black-flamed candles, and the curtains part. This time, the backdrop is sharply divided. On one side, the silhouette of the palace and estates of the nobility, and on the other, there is the silhouette of mountains of some kind. The actor who plays Los, the soul snatched up by the nobles, stands on the left, with the palace. The actor who plays Sol stands on the right, before the mountains. Also to the left, the noblewoman who recruited Los. Also to the right, the Heroine who recruited Sol.     "While Los and Sol strived to maintain communication with each other, to keep the friendship that began out of chance and continued for a long time alive, to meet when they could, and discuss their thoughts and experiences, those experiences became so drastically different, that though their ideals were still the same, they could no longer recognize what they had shared with the other. Los was pressured by the nobility he had studied with to accept the Crown of the Crimson King and rule over Lostrata. Sol roamed the lands, gaining strength, confidence, and wisdom as he worked and fought for the people."     The lighting on the palace side shifts to red tinted. "Los accepted the Crown unwillingly, but on the condition that he was free to do as he wished, intending to help the people as the nobles had not. He found allies at court who wished to make Lostrata better, but their methods were at times extreme." A man in a mask that some here, Kord in particular, may recognize as Prospero, the 'Court Wizard' encountered most recently in the Halloween journey to the past, joins Los and the noblewoman (who Tomoe would most likely recognize both in this Act and the previous Act from her first stint at playing the Dragon Knight Adair, during Lumiere's first year in the Multiverse. She was one of the masked nobles at the party who plotted to assassinate the Crimson King, who was chased down into the depths of the palace, and who suicided into an unspeakable valley lined with giant coffins and the promise of Oblivion, rather than be captured. Duchess Ephebelt. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord's arms unfold from a crossed, indifferent posture to lower his hands to his knees, hands balling up into loose fists. He glares up at the depiction of Prospero, because it reminds the Count of his experience during that party where the 'Crimson King' had released the essence of fear over everyone. There's a moment of recollection, though, here... something makes Kord's brow knit.     The moral weight of this occurs to him. He lowers his eyes as he realizes that the insular behavior, the isolation, had made Los vulnerable. So what of Kord himself? 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' <"... mmm. Lonely is the head that wears the crown."> Kushiko muses quietly, ever so faintly in regards to Los. <"Allies, but not friends."> Not that she has much more to offer just yet past that observation as she watches. She keeps her voice 'down', audible mostly to the other Elites nearby, rather than the natives here. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' She knew it. She KNEW this was going to happen. The authority to rule, the decadence of court... Finna's all but scowling now at the fate that the Crimson King has ended up in. She recognizes none of the figures around Los, but can hazard a guess about what's in their minds.     And that's why her gaze turns more towards the Heroine and Sol... 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' The play carries on now asn contiunes to hold Tomoe's attention. She pauses as she sees someone she does know and thinks back to that night posing as Adir? She does wonder is there a connection to Adair and herself somehow? She muses on this for a moment but she's more curious about the noble. "I know that noble from Luminers's first Halloween..." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     "On their jouney, Sol and the Heroine gathered companions and allies of their own. They were joined by the insightful Seer of the Styx, and the clever Maretta in the First Candle." A woman in a robe that conceals whatever level of decay and age her Dead body is in beneath (though the worn, wrinkled, flesh of her hands, almost as though it had been 'twisted' or 'rung out' after being removed, and then put back on not-as-tightly as it fit before indicates it is probably not a pleasant sight), and a face-concealing hood moves from off stage to stand with Sol. A pale-skinned, bare-footed girl in an ankle-length 'white' (as much as any ancient fabric is white in Lumiere) dress, a large wig concealing her face and much of her head, steps forth as well. Probably the young actress who played the Wandering Power when it was just a form crawling and then walking beneath a sheet. She is also one of the few, very rare, examples of children encountered in Lumiere as well. She looks... Very similar to another mystery girl that has been running about of late, who cryptically told them all to meet her on the Moon for answers.     "After helping the people of the Second Candle, Sol was asked by to be their king in place of the King of the Iron Mask." Some people in what look like desert-appropriate attire emerge from the right side to surround the Heroine, Maretta, and Sol. "But he refused, saying, 'You already have a capable king. Give him your support, and tell him your needs. He will lead you well.' He was joined by mighty Atemnu of the Sands, a warrior impressed with Sol's accomplishments. He brought with him the skillful and stealth Cassim al'Karuk. The growing band advanced to the Third Candle."     "Meanwhile, the newly-crowned Crimson King gained more to his side, but rather than supporting him directly, they planned around him." Distressingly considering who Prospero is suspected of secretly being, the God of Invention, Cro, moves to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, the Duchess, and Los. "Together, they planned ways to improve Lostrata, and to unravel the mystery of the vanished gods. As well, they considered how to protect the First Candle from threats... From within and without." 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Unfortunately all of the similarities between these actors and major players of Lumiere is going to go over Dorian's head. His involvement in recent events has been less than most of the others here, so he doesn't recognize any of these actors. He can only look at the story as it's being presented with his own eyes, with the eyes of now. So many of the hidden truths within will remain hidden to his eyes unless someone else thinks to reveal them.     Nonetheless it's definitely entertaining, at the very least. And should still give him more insight into the world of Lumiere. Perhaps that will give him an edge should he manage to break through the exterior of the world and poke at its inner workings at some point in the future... 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' The girl in the white dress' appearance is the first thing in a while to get Finna's eyes widening. The dress, the hair, that's pretty telling! After widening, they narrow and her attention ramps up even more heavily.     First to look at the Seer with the wrinkled hands....     "Now what happens to the Crimson King again?" She tries to rummage through her memories. A lot of the details of Lumiere have, up until now, gone in one ear and out the other. Looking at her one can almost imagine smoke coming from her ears as she struggles to remember tidbits of lore and piece them together...     "How far did Sol make it?" 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe is on the edge of her seat but she knows how it's likely going to end. It's going to be a matter of how it happened. The gods vanished some time before everything broke but she wonder just how did it break? She tilts her head and is lost in thought for a moment till Finna speaks up. "I think we'll find out but given the play I think we're seeing some of history, here Finna." 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     "..."     Kord remembers the great band of soldiers they had seen from the Unlit they had faced early in their experiences in Lumiere. He remembers something that was, perhaps, an echo of Sol... a soul so powerful, so pure, that the Unlit using it against them failed because the soul piece itself turned against it. A tithe from someone so righteous that it burned the hand of the evil, so to speak.     Kord carefully squinted at the depiction of Cro. He looked between Cro and Prospero. He focused directly on Prospero's presence here.     "The King goes mad. His kingdom dissolves. An Unlit consumes his sanity and freedom over time, and guides him to use fear to solve his problems," Kord explains to Finna. "The throne he would sit upon was some manner of monster, and his crown's blessing would not perform its purpose as it was intended. And he had no direction. No protection. He was dead the moment he allowed the nobles to take him for their purposes." 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' It's becoming apparent that much of Lumiere's history is remembered in the same way the Greek epics are in most contemporary Earths. To wit, fact seems inextricably paired with myth, even remembered /as/ myth in some cases.      What worries the captain is that he finds it interesting enough to warrant further research. And given the apparent scarcity of literature on the matter, that leaves his options with asking someone else or exploring this place for himself. It'll probably come down to the latter, and that'll be a hard sell. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     "'Should we not establish a standing army, to call upon when the time is needed?' proposed the Crimson King. 'Nay,' responded the God of Invention. 'The Moon watches over all. Under its Light, we should erect beacons to collect it, so that protectors may move from place swiftly as the need arises, carried on Moonlight.'"     The Duchess fans herself with her hand-fan. "'But first there must be protectors to use this system,' suggested the noblewoman. 'A discrete force, capable of subtlety and stealth, who can quietly deal with problems without disrupting the lives of the law-abiding, would be ideal, I think.'"     "But then the other, the Court Wizard who had brought his great knowledge and arcane works to Lostrata, had a suggestion. 'Why not children?' asked he." Los, Ephebelt, and Cro turn to Prospero. "'There are many orphaned souls. Despite the best efforts of the nobility reformed by our beloved Heroine, more Living children have died than there are families willing to care for them. They roam the streets unattended, getting up to all sorts of mischief. To punish them as criminals for breaking rules would be unfair to those who do not know better. So would it not be more ideal to educate them? To care for them? To make them they who uphold the law? If they are given purpose, direction, responsibility, and training, their use as guardians would solve two problems at once.'"     There is a brief pause as the other three look at each other, but then they turn back to Prospero. "They agreed that this was a fine idea."     The light shifts back to the right side, with Sol. It was red when they were in the First Candle, just as it still is when the scene is set in the palace. Then it became green when in the Second Candle. Now the light has shifted to purple. "Sol had seen and fought against the rigours of nature in the Second Candle. Though he now followed the steps of the Dead that would lead to reincarnation, freeing him of the constraints of life with each ascension, he was seeking more, not less. As the shackles of lingering mortality fell away, he gained from those he met, shared in their existences and learned their histories and solved their problems, enriching himself and them i nturn. When he reached the Third Candle, he visited the City of Dreams, and there learned from the Sleepers, and saw all the many possibilities of dreams laid out before him. He safeguarded them against those Things which would have harmed them or infiltrated their slumber, and the people came to him, asking him to be their king instead of the Faceless King who ruled over them from a place beyond dreaming."     But he declined, saying, "'You have a king perfect for those who dwell in dreams. When you can reach the same place as your king, you will have gained an enlightenment beyond attaining one's fantasies. So let dreams be not merely an escape, but the means to reach what you strive for: wishes even grander, and more real, than dreams.'"     Standing with the growing crowd of Sol, the Heroine, the Seer, Maretta, a tall man in a leather vest and loncloth, Atemnu, and two figures in cloaks and turbans, those Cassim al'Karuk, more are added. "Before leaving the Third Candle, Dullahan, the Dream Knight, and Princess Tome, of Kadath, joined the band of Champions."     A knightly figure with a very cylindrical helm steps forth from off-stage, as well as a woman in a funereal shroud and gauzey gown, with a ring of plastic flowers for a crown. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "That being the throne we just encountered." Finna mumbles, shoulders sagging deflatedly as she starts making the connections. She quiets again as the play continues...     "A small task force made of specially trained kids that can go anywhere because of the Moon, somehow? And it's totally the idea of everyone but the King. ... yeah, GREAT idea, Kingy." 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' There's a particular stillness that seems to radiate out of the Tenno for a few fleeting moments when the use of children as weapons is mentioned. It's... more profound than any other moments of stillness that Finna, Tomoe, or Kord have perhaps witnessed. Mostly due to the fact that she was--is--a child, and one who was used as a weapon. Maybe not intentionally, maybe intentionally and deliberately, but the lights on the Mag seem to dim a little. Even with the somewhat... /better/ for Sol, seemingly... conflict was coming to a head, but this resonated with her in a more foul way than she anticipated. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' The use of Children as weapons that does chill and she now has an idea of what happned to all the souls of dead children now or a far better idea. She does notice the reaction from the Tenno, it's brief but she clearly aware of it. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     "... he left him."     Kord's jaw tenses.     "He just left him there. All those people, abandoned to those ... predators. He went on this journey of purpose when it was /right there/ from the start..."     He might start bleeding from the eyes of he manages to look anymore pale and calmly furious about this. His voice is very quiet.     This is resonating with Kord a lot harder than it should if people make assumptions on how his behavior came to be. Kushiko isn't alone here, but it's a different direction it seems to come from: Abandonment. Darkness. Loneliness. No friends, or allies, and even those that were found easily and simply were shattered.     "Luuuuuc..." 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' John Silver blanches when the Wizard starts talking, and he looks more and more disquieted the longer his plan goes on. What he's describing sounds like child soldiers. Actually, even worse than that--child assassins, or secret police. That the Wizard is making it sound as if he's doing these children a kindness by weaponizing them is just icing on the cake. He's the bad guy in this, right?      God, he hopes so. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The sensations radiating from Kushiko have some of the warrior Lanterns nearby smoothly orienting on her instead of the play, keen to such emanations with their predator instincts. It is not that they seek to hunt Kushiko, but more like two wild beasts meeting and sizing each other up. Trying to decide whether they will come to blows or go their separate ways.     The red light appears again, shifting focus to the goings-on at the palace. "At that time, growing more and more resentful of being treated as little more than a figurehead, his efforts to order resources to the needy being diverted, advisors cautioning against actions that might destabilize the authorities even if he felt they were right, and succumbing to fear of being plotted against, the Crimson King tried to justify his existence, to assert his position, and do something for those he had promised his friend he would try to aid. He sought to enforce his rule in any way he could, some of it being petty laws that undermind the nobles or aided the people but which were not serious enough that the nobles cared to argue over them. Some of them more sweeping, if ceremonial, gestures that did not directly impact them. He mandated regular celebrations, particularly a day to celebrate death and fear, to become someone else in order to remind these long-dead souls who they were... To refresh them with the knowledge of what being alive was. He consecrated this day to all the gods, their mysterious absence still going unresolved."     As Prospero and Cro drift away to discuss something together in the shadows, and the Duchess turns to conceal her masked face with her fan as she talks to unseen figures in the background, the King sits upon his throne alone, watching as figures dressed in black body suits to minimize the detail of their forms, dance before him with multi-colored scarves and modern (or at least 20th/21st century) Halloween masks incongruous with the rest of the stage props and costuming. Apparently 'courtly entertainment'. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     "Though being reminded of what it was to be alive was not the purpose of Lostrata, but rather to be the place they purged themselves of such things, he commanded this happen anyway. And so, it became one of the few things the Dead had to look forward to. Many stopped ascending Lumiere in search of enlightenment. Some, drawn by something new, even descended, undoing their work in progressing and regaining some of the stains of mortality they had been cleansed of."     Little fake fireworks of tinsel and other reflective metal dangle in the 'sky' to catch a multi-colored light display, as a large, glowing papier-mache jack-o-lantern is lowered from above. After little more than speaking and light changes for Act IV so far, the sudden spectacle, and the addition of what sounds like a small, non-professional, but compentent band beginning to play on brass instruments, violins, and drums in the background to an energetic if somewhat menacing tune, perfect for Halloween, is enough to send the civilian Lanterns into gasps and franting chattering. They have never been to that Halloween party, after all. This is all new to them. The very IDEA of a celebration, of gathering a bunch of people together in a unified purpose of enjoyment and revelry, is utterly alien, and they don't know what to do with it. Some seemingly are so overwhelmed that they react impulsively. Some try that clapping thing from earlier. Some stand up, waving their arms and letting out ululating 'cheers' like someone trying to scream in a nightmare but unable to make their waking vocal cords cooperate properly. One falls from his seat, thrashing on the floor almost like having a seizure from the sensory overload.     If this does not stop soon, there is every indication that their reactions to the unknown may grow more extreme and insane. And there are people (to use the term very loosely) with few compulsions against violence starting to look twitchy, already on alert from the Tenno and the additional feeling of Kord's wrathfulness. They are not so overwhelmed as those whose minds are nearly gone, but they are intrigued at the very least. That intrigue, however, does not override their immediate need to protect themselves from behavior that resembles that of Unlit, in much the same way that a small animal running by even a thoroughly domesticated dog may still cause it to give chase without thought. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' In other situations, Kushiko might be trying to calm things juuust a bit. Truthfully, she probably still thinks that, but as the play continues to fully unfold, as much as her 'face' is seemingly forward? The Warrior Lanterns as they size her up don't have any kind of remote sense that they're at her flank, at her back. Every angle is 'forward', every angle simmers with the coldest pall of death. It's directed at the revelations they're presently seeing in the play itself, but it's the kind of sensation that nearly everyone here could probably pick up on, given enough time. Indeed, her ire became that shared with Kord, as time went on, even if in different reasons, they would eventually align, perhaps. Yet with the 'party' (which she herself had not been a part of) having the reactions it did, the lights on the Warframe's suit began to shimmer once more. And then she spoke--not with the typical resonance, but with a singular voice, quiet and unassuming. And that of a child, a young girl no more than 13. <<"Calm down, all of you.">> And yet, as she said this a strange energy roiled out from her, something that sought first instead to lock down the Warrior Lanterns in place, using their own armor. The rest of it, however was this strange, cooling energy of some kind. She drew upon the Void in a most instinctive way, not to ruin, but to wreathe this energy protectively. <<"Do not fear the unknown. Learn of it. Embrace it. Embrace a balance you have yet known, all of you.">> Where the words came from, she knew not. Only that they needed to be said. Whether it would work, well. She released her 'grip', without undue harm; quite the opposite, before her 'gaze' seemed to affix itself to everyone present, all at once. Just what truly lay within this strange being? 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' The Story goes on and she's interested. However the audiences' responses highlight how damaged those remain in this world who retain any level of self awareness. So many basic taken for granted thing have been lost. She quietly looks to Kushiko and some o the locals but she seems to be handling it. She seems to agree with Kushiko's actions she does wish to say something, but after what Kushiko did it seems to be unnecessary for her to say anything. She remains on alert though for more trouble but she's hopeful the Tenno will be enough to keep the people calm. She also wonders how would she even think to top something like that? 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' The reaction the Lanterns through the crowd give to such a simple thing as music is enough to actually FRIGHTEN Finna a bit. She FLINCHES down into her seat, but quickly starts looking around at the racket and clamor!     Sensing the crowd's getting a bit on the rambunctious side though, Finna stands up, cups both hands to her face, and calls out...     "Revel! Cheer! Sing and dance! Nothing to fight about... nothing to fight about at all!" There's something about these words that tugs on heartstrings, even from the dead who forgot they had such things. The deep urge to vent stress with a bit of exercise matched with a deep content in a way that just shouldn't mix. Hopefully enough to clamp down on violent impulses though. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     As events progress to what he already understands, as the context aligns the details he has seen only glimpses of, Kord's fury fades. He momentarily feels his wrath simply... fade. It leaves him that coldness he had only felt from the abandonment that spawned his defiance in the first place. As the festivities are emulated, he turns his attention away from it and to the Lanterns around him.     He doesn't have anything to say to people deprived and born of monsters that couldn't have a cultural foundation. He doesn't even know if he could consider any of them truly human. Carna was included in this.     He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the others speak up, and turned to view the stage once more... letting the others do what he knows he can't. 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' "What the fuck?" Silver scoots his chair away from a Lantern currently engaged in the aforementioned waving-of-arms and hooting.      Flint observes it, too, caught between finding it fascinating and finding the wariness of the other, more sane Lanterns to be worrisome. The fascination is winning out, albeit just barely. Otherwise, he'd absolutely be making things worse by refusing to brook threats and drawing his pistol. "They don't understand," says the captain cautiously. It sounds as if he's explaining it to himself just as much as Silver. "They just see the others doing it." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Eventually, things settle down. The combination of Kushiko giving a brief respite, a chance to regain awareness of themselves, and a voice to listen to other than whatever insidious Darkness whispers stir in their heads, and then Finna spinning light into that darkness with her words in turn, buys time for the music slowing and then ending on deep, low notes. Apparently the musical performance was cut short with the extreme responses of the audience. The fact that this Midnight Troupe is even performing all this unaffected, or knows all this history when only someone like a Blue Scholar, as Enark is, would have access to it (and even his knowledge is incomplete) is very unusual, and perhaps 'where are they actually getting all this from' might be a good question to start asking.     The tinsel balls reflecting the light to mimic the dazzling display of fireworks go back up on strings, the jack-o-lantern goes dark as whatever was lighting it from within is extinguished. The civilians seem to slowly get ahold of themselves. Which is good, because the warriors looked like they were about to get stabby if the erratic behavior of these so close to ceasing to be Lanterns started frothing at the mouth and lunging at them. They sit back down, and pay attention again. The one on the ground stays there, too physically exhausted from the ordeal to do anything else. He (or she. It's hard to tell when they're that emaciated) has little in the way of stolen spirit bits to regenerate stamina with, after all.     "However, some of those who came to Lostrata for the celebrations were ones whose existences were touched and altered by the efforts of Sol and his Champions. They brought stories of the Hero, some already calling him the 'Hero King' despite having accepted no such role. So even in the midst of celebrations organized by the Crimson King, eventually the people spoke not of their enjoyment, of what he had done for them, but what his friend was doing distantly, roaming free, choosing how to act, and helping others as Los was being kept from."     Los folds his hands beneath his masked chin. "He was glad to know Sol was still alive, and still following the dreams they had shared. But even so, he could not help but feel resentment." The red light shifts focus upon the right side again, changing to blue this time. "Sol had made it to the Fourth Candle. The highest of them all. He had been to every one of them, aside from the fallen Fifth Candle, and now he was at that point that was closest to the Living world. The last hurdle separating the Dead from reincarnation. In the desolate domain of this place of greatest enlightenment, he found souls near absent of all humanity trying to find their way through seemingly endless snowy forests, to reach an abandoned city that was the last stop-over point for this pilgrimmage before having to cross a vast icy black sea. It was rumored that Sol and Princess Tome might be seeking to marry despite having reached the place where there was only one journey left before all journeys were over. However, there was another rumor. It seemed those closer to the two of them felt that Sol and the Heroine might be potential partners instead." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     "However, when Sol and his Champions stayed to guide those on their pilgrimmage to safety, to rebuild the ruins of that ancient city that bore towers decorated with great stone faces, to have an actual functioning city there in the Fifth Candle, the Heroine had other obligations to attend. She had sensed the fall of a great Power. One of the Lords of Silence had been destroyed somehow. So she left the matter of the Fourth Candle to Sol and the Princess, and the Heroine and little Maretta descended Lumiere." The relationship dynamic between Sol, Tome, Maretta, and the Heroine is made clear in a single scene. It's very simple. But carries a lot of meaning. The Heroine walks away from the group on the right. Sol looks after her while holding Tome's hand. Tome is looking between Sol and the Heroine, knowing that he's looking at the other woman instead of her. Maretta chases after the Heroine, trying to take her hand, but the hands always swings out of reach just before she can make contact. It is carefully choreographed, clearly. But it's timed so well, flows so naturally, that it's easy to forget these are actors performing a role, rather than the audience watching the original scene with the original historical figures play out before them.     The light shifts to the left, red once more, as the Heroine and Maretta arrive before Los. "They reached the First Candle just as the Crimson King was at his most isolated and fragile. The Heroine, the one whom he could have gone with back then, the one who wanted him to be a hero too, to do the same things Sol was doing, had come back to him. The one whom he had admired the beauty of, who now approached him, and told Los that he was needed, that as the Crimson King, there were responsibilities he had, and things only he could do, and they did not involve political maneuvering with the beasts of his court... It was what he needed to regain some of himself."     Los, hesitant at first as the Heroine stands before him, Maretta lurking a few steps back, arms folded defensively over her chest, eventually pushes himself up from his throne and bows with humility at being given what must have been seen as redemption and a second chance. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The light on both left and right dim to nothing, a spotlight shining down instead on a wooden box with an outfit of leather and cloth laid out in a neat pile atop it. A pair of boots sit in front of it, and a pair of gloves and a michievously smiling white theater mask lies on top of the pile. "So set out the Heroine, and the Crimson King, and Maretta, to find who had slain a Lord of Silence. That was when the other Lords of Silence began to die. First had come the Silent Lord of Haunted Cavern, whom the Heroine had already sensed. The next, would be the Silent Lord of Ashen Sky. And as the slaying of such Powers as the Lords was ongoing..."     The light shifts to the right and back to blue again. The backdrop that has consistently been mountains all this time has shifted to castle ramparts. Sol, the Seer, Atemnu, Dullahan, and Tome, all seem to be looking out over a wall at something even though they are only gazing off-stage. "In response to laying claim to that ancient city they were challenged by a great army."     The stage lights go out, the actors move off the stage, and the curtains close. 
}}

5625/Good Night, Moon - Act III

2018-02-02T04:31:23Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/01/06 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=A play in five parts. Part three. |Cast of Characters=974, 954, 774, 1067, 964, 6, 513 |pretty=yes }} {{Pose..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/01/06
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=A play in five parts. Part three.
|Cast of Characters=974, 954, 774, 1067, 964, 6, 513
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     What has just finishes is the tale of the God of Invention and the birth of what some of those here know as the Power of the Moon that has made itself known and guided them. The first's name, at the very end, was given as Cro, the latter, Luna. Of course, Cro and Crow sound the same when said out loud, so it's not as though those familiar with a little Shadow by that same name can tell the difference.     All in all, Act II can be interpreted many ways, as it is, supposedly, a real historical occurrence and thus might not have an explicit moral to it. This is a telling of something that Actually Happened, no matter how theatrical the dressing up of it may be. What the Narrator said when she introduced the performance, as a member of the Midnight Troupe, 'Action, romance, intrigue, hope, and tragedy. It is a story of vengeance unfulfilled, love unrequited, mistakes made, and the consequences of yearning for what one can not obtain. But it is also a story of sacrifice, wishes granted, friendship, and second chances. the story of how the Moon came to be in Lumiere, of a heroine, and her admirers, and the conflict that would spawn when two friends became rival kings.'     They are two acts in, but nothing truly bad has happened yet.     The light level is normal again, or at least 'normal for Lumiere', with the associated electric and magical lights scavenged or provided by outsiders to make the Tacet Sanctos less dim. The blue-black flamed candles that seem to push away other light sources than themselves are capped once more.     They would be going directly into the next act shortly, in all likelihood, if not for the decision on the parts of some here to do something with unforeseen consequences.     Captain Flint, his companion, Kushiko, and Finna, all clapped at the end of the second act.     And the Lanterns react with the same startlement and wariness and sheer shock that they did in response to first hearing music, at the very start. The actual warrior Lanterns draw weapons on the clappers, while the civilian Lanterns appear confused and frightened, turning in their mish-mash of seats to find the source of the sounds.     It appears that, like music, clapping, such a simple, mundane act, is such an alien sound and behavior here, totally unexperienced, that the Dead have no idea what to make of it. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord, of course, didn't bother to clap. He isn't comfortable here among all the Lanterns and never has been. He's known far too well about how they think, about how they could attack him at any moment if it suited them to do so. All it would take is someone convincing them that it was better to murder him than let him continue operating here.     He keeps his eyes up on the play, a pensive frown on his face. The revelation of 'Cro' being named makes him murmur to himself.     "Is that shadow a god of invention...? There has to be more to this..."     He sniffs in and straightens in his seat, and waits for the next part. The other shoe, he feels, hasn't dropped. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian had started to clap, but when he noticed the reaction of the Lanterns here -- particularly the warrior sorts -- Dorian raises his hands as if to show they're empty. "Calm yourself, calm yourself. They're showing appreciation for the actors," Dorian explains quickly.     Here he smirks a bit, and with characteristic snark, "Do please put your weapons away, this has been a lovely play and it would be a shame for there to be bloodshed. Or at least, if you MUST draw blood, might you at least wait until AFTER the play?" He's messing about a little, but he doesn't look like he's going to get up and attack anyone. 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' Captain Flint is not the sort of man to take a threat lying down. Having weapons drawn on him is absolutely seen as a threat, and it is a mixture of resignation and anger that he reaches for his pistol. His hand reaches into his coat, only to be stopped by Silver's.      "Wait," says the younger pirate, making eye contact with the seasoned captain.      Flint doesn't like being prevented from acting in such a fashion. That much is evident in the thin-lipped scowl upon his face, and the coldness in his seafoam eyes. Those eyes issue a challenge to Silver: he'd better have a good reason.      Silver, ever the survivor, is quick to appeal to Flint's sense of reason. "Look, this place is a shithole." Anyone without Flint's monstrous temper could see that the applause must've startled the Lanterns. But he can't be so blunt with someone so prone to violent outbursts. "Even worse than Nassau. These people haven't had anything to laugh about in a long time. Much less, anything worth applause."      That seems to break through to him. The captain's grip on his pistol eases, and he leans back in his desk.      "It's alright," calls Silver uncertainly. He's trying his best to ease the crowd, though he does give a very put-upon roll of his eyes at Dorian's smarmy remark. "It's alright," he assures once more. The pirate doesn't sound too sure of himself, but he's new to piracy and even newer to the Multiverse. "It's just applause. It's... something you do when you appreciate a performance." 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' <"What was, or could have been."> Kushiko muses aloud. <"Or... given the way 'life' and the like work here, maybe he's not wholly unique."> The Tenno shrugs her shoulders a little bit. Her place in the audience is slightly off to one side, since her meditative hovering means she doesn't need to occupy a seat while she's here as Mag. Nonetheless, with this build up, she can't dismiss the unease that's been growing ever since. Indeed, as Kord feels, there's another shoe to drop--but what, could be worser than any of them have an inkling of. As to the Lanterns drawing weapons on her and the others for clapping, it doesn't occur to her to see them as threats--not in the traditional sense. Dorian's words more or less accomplish what she would say, though she adds, <"I... kind of followed what they did, honestly. Seemed like the thing to do to show that appreciation thing, you know?"> ... is she for real? 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' There was a missunderstanding her as the Laterns just turn upon them she tries to make a gesture, thankfully Silver is quick to explain things something she never thought she'd have to to. "It's a sign of praising actors for a good performace I didn't mean to startle anyone." Tomoe moves to sit right the hell back down and quiet up wondering what normal living thing might spook the dead here. It was something to think about but foir now she had to taken in with the play and hopes she does not get into a fight... 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Having nearby Lanterns pull out weapons causes Finna to abrubtly cease between claps, hands frozen in the motion. Her gaze swiftly roams around for anyone who's actually ready to attack.. and finding none, she swiftly resumes and finishes the round of applause! ... and promptly re-seats herself.     "Don't worry about them! Don't worry a bit! Who knows when they last heard a good story?" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     No one seems particularly impressed with Dorian's response. Though whether some of them can even read sarcasm and condesceion in a voice may be unclear, they are clearly processing the noise stimulus of the clapping differently than most would and do not seem to just accept his explanation blindly. The attempt at drawing a pistol wasn't missed by the way a very large sword is twitched towards Flint, but the continued attempts at talking them down, explaining, being non-aggressive and non-retaliatory, eventually wins the day and prevetns what might have otherwise ruined the play from occurring. Weapons are sheathed. While some may still be wary of the sharp reports of palms colliding like the cracking of rocks against skulls, they seem to have at least accepted that it has no immediate consequences for them if others engage in it, and it stops being important on that basis.     The simpler-minded civilians transition from fear and startlement to forgetting about it completely when the lights start to dim again, and attention is drawn back to the stage, perhaps a bit more swiftly than the previous times. Rushing on the part of the performers to mollify the audience?     The scene this time opens on a large ring-shaped object as a background, lined in sketchy 'runes' drawn in whatever they could find that shows up well in low lighting. Glitter pen, glue and sequins, grayish 'white' paint, and so on.     The narrator begins to speak, keeping her high voice soft and calm, emphasizing just right the words she wishes to create an impression of, while directing it to everyone. The very epitome of a story teller's oration. She is clearly experienced at grabbing attention and holding it. Bells, some small and tinkling, others larger, ring in the background, as she lays out the story. "Long had Lostrata gone without a king, since its last. Once, kings were chosen by the gods -- one for each of the Five Candles. They could be man, woman, or other. They could be child, adult, or elder. There was even a tale that a prior king of the Third Candle was an infant, the Miracle of Serratia. But with the gods now absent aside certain few, there were none to appoint a new king of Lostrata. Until two souls appeared."     The solid black within the ring ripples and flutters, revealing it is some sort of fabric, and then two actors brush it aside as they step forth onto the stage. Of roughly even height, though one thinner, and the other more athletic. They both wear masks like the performers before them, one marked with the face of a dour-looking stern man, the other more light-hearted and regal seeming. Though in truth, the faces are nearly identical, differentiated solely by the angling of lines on the eyes and mouth, and the body language of each performer. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord's strange eyes shift about, the soft glow in the dark evident even as the lights shine on the crowd. He frowns at the explanation of kings being appointed. His eyes drop in thought about the crown he has in his possession. The Crimson King's crown, the one ruling this candle. He considers the echoes of the god, Los, he had witnessed... "... had someone been chosen in that moment? One of us? Was that really him?"     What's notable here is that the perfection of his place in that role hasn't occurred to him. He doesn't want it, despite having the crown. Not now. He's got other priorities.     He lifts his eyes and flicks them, momentarily, to look in Kushiko's direction, as his thoughts wander back to the supposed tragedy.     He hadn't budged for the threat of the Lanterns and their weapons. He's too used to the way they behave by now. 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' Flint settles into a kind of simmering resentment, after a few tense moments. The beginning of the next act serves to pacify him just as much as it pacifies the nearby Lanterns. Eventually, the scowl on his face disappears, and he returns to a more neutral demeanor. The hand that had been creeping towards his pistol rises to rest upon his chin.      It would appear this act is going to explore the conflict between the two rival kings. There might even be the beginnings of interaction between Crow, Luna, the heroine and these two kings. Perhaps that's what causes the conflict? 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Tales such as these are what bring sense to the history of this forsaken realm, and finally Finna feels as though the timeline and history of this place are beginning to make sense in her mind. It fills her with eagerness to hear more which shows as a building grin on the foxgirl's face. Once again her tail starts wagging - and unintentionally thwacking Dorian in the back at times!     "Just WHERE did Crow end up at... maybe he could tell us more. Ooooohgh, this is frustrating. Is this ring supposed to be the moon...?" 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian breathes a sigh of relief when things calm. He wasn't really looking for a reaction to his comment -- or if they did have one, he was hoping for anything negative to come HIS way instead of others', to spare them having to deal with it.     But, as things calm down again, he settles again to watch the third act. And generally ignoring Finna's tail-thwacking. Though a particularly firm thwack does make him adjust his cloak so that it makes more of a cushion against it. Finna's not a fox, and her tail is (assumedly) proportionately sized. So it's liable to hurt if he gets hit with it more than a few times. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' <"Somehow, I don't think he could,"> comes the words from the Tenno towards Finna. While they haven't had the best of relationships, given her involvement in matters here, it stands to reason to perhaps thaw out those chilly relations. Or at least try to. Nonetheless, she heaves an audible sigh, even if the Warframe itself doesn't, quietly looking on as the Lanterns seem to finally calm. Electromagnetic energy that had been growing begins to subside properly, a slight *tingle* in the air that some here might realize was present. As much as she seemed to not be hostile, there was something very well hidden from the ninja. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe just sits down and enjoys herself for now hoping she does not getting attacked but the play contiunes on no one's been attacked right? She sits back and watches with intrest once more. Still she's got an idea of how much these people have lost though. She tries to not set off the local members of the audiance while she does. She starts to get some new ideas abotu the play as well. Still she's quite enterained by it. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     "In those times, the name of a soul was determined when they first arrived in Lumiere. The name of the first was a homage to the Eternal Prophet himself, Los. The name of the second, also a homage, to the mythical source of Light that was named after mighty Los... Sol." A faint light shines down from above the stage, out of sight, illuminating first one, then the other, when the names are offered. The one that seems more regal, on the right, is Sol. The other, the one more sorrowful and disdainful, Los.     Hearing the name of Los causes murmurings and response from the captivated Lanterns for the first time since the play began. They have remained silent through the first two acts except during the intermissions.     Just hearing the name of Los is enough to break them from their trance and send them into whispered conversations.     When a red light is cast down to the left and begins to track across the stage, with the Heroine from the first two Acts beneath it, they fall back into silence. "The Heroine, aware of the unrest and chaos that had begun to grow in the absence of both gods and kings, set out to gather souls who could be strengthened and turned into heroes and heroines themselves, so that they could bring order back to Lumiere. She took the time to observe the many souls who wandered the realm of arrival, and to gauge who among them were fit to protect."     Los turns to Sol, and the Narrator speaks for him. "'As we have new names, it seems fitting we form new relationships. And as our names are so similar, it also seems fitting that we be friends and allies. Do you agree, Sol?' the newly-named soul asked of the other. 'It seems fitting indeed that one I arrived with, in this land of death, whose name I share after a fashion, be the one with whom I learn and explore with. I would be gladdened to have you as my friend.'"     The two men, one somewhat hunched, the other standing tall, clasp hands. Other souls wander through, figures in black to represent silhouettes, those less important than the main characters.     "The Heroine saw two with potential, and began to approach. But the nobles of Lostrata intervened." A figure in a gown in a white mask practically seems to hover onto the stage, the size of her dress's skirts fully concealing her feet. She has a black fan in her hand (probably cobbled together from an old feather dust, to serve as a prop, unlike whatever the original noble held). "'Oh, which of you is the one who received the name Los upon his arrival here? Was it you?'" The noblewoman indicates Sol, the more kingly-looking of the two."     "'Nay, it was not me, but my new friend here, who was given that name.' answer Sol honestly. The Duchess then addressed the other soul. 'The Nobles wish to invite you to a meeting. We believe you have the potential to be a great benefit to the people of Lostrata. One could say it is your destiny.'" The Duchess offers her hand to Los. He seems momentarily hesitant to leave Sol's side. "'My friend can come with me of course, yes?' Los asked. But the Duchess indicated that it would be a private meeting."     Sol pats him on the shoulder. "'Worry not, my friend. When you are done with your business, seek me out. I am certain that we can find each other again.'" 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' The captain's eyes narrow discerningly, and he leans back in his seat to ponder. The nobles knew nothing about Los but his name, and the connotations thereof. And clearly, they associate that name with power. They did assume that the upright, more athletic of the two was Los, after all.      "Why one, and not the other?" Silver asks.      The question disrupts Flint from his musings, but he can't deny it's on his mind, too. "Perhaps they think his name will lend their goals some air of legitimacy." With a bitter frown, he once more offers a thought in that gravelly, English baritone of his. "It's not an uncommon sentiment among nobility."      "You think this is where they turn against each other?"      Flint nods, as if he's going to say something in agreement. "I think you should watch the fucking play," he responds with a wry smile. People who ask questions constantly during plays are the /worst./ 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' At Dorian's sudden show of discomfort, Finna seems to take notice of her frantic tail and forces it to stop. She shifts a bit further away down the bench... and plants both hands on her knees.     All things so far seem all fine and well, but her forehead twitches at the splitting up of the newly sworn friends. Her gaze narrows a little, as the plot threads of the story start to weave into her recollections of names and events given thus far across Lumiere.     "Nothing good's gonna come of this split-up." Murmurs the fox with her predictions. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     "...Well, that didn't take long, Dorian murmurs quietly, as he notices the new friendship already having wedges driven into it. Fortunately only the people sitting next to him should be able to hear it. He's fairly certain that's going to figure into things quite deeply. Also the connection between the names 'Los' and 'Lostrata' hasn't escaped his notice!     He also notices Finna's adjusting of her tail, and looks in her direction with a quiet nod of thanks. Her words draw Dorian's attention, though, and he leans a bit closer to hear them. Registering them, he nods; still leaning in her direction, he notes very quietly, "My thoughts exactly." 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord is frowning with a pronounced displeasure when the names are explained. His unhappiness grows as it goes on and he quickly catches onto where this is going. Suddenly, he looks... angry.     There's an audible creak from his gauntlets and him shifting in his seat stiffly as the noble woman seems to ignore Sol in favor of Los. His nose wrinkles... and he fights to maintain a calm composure. It only makes his agitation easier to read.     He has a feeling in his gut that he knows one of these souls already. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe notices the Lanterns seem have a response ot the name Los, she wonders for a moment but will dig into later she pays attewntion to what is being ssaid on the stage. A tale of one trying to restore order? She listens more and has a bad feeling about where the story might be going. "Smells like the Hero is being baited to me." 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Where Kushiko was, is no longer where she is now. The names are familiar--painfully familiar, given what she's heard, what she's felt and seen. Which is why her hand is briefly on Kord's shoulder, a silent gesture as if to brace and steady his anger. If the Warframe could demonstrate concern visibly, it likely would, but seeing as it's faceless, it truly cannot. But the gesture is remarkably human, given the battle golem. Not a word, just an attempt at a calming influence. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Something more apparent now than in the previous two acts is that the Heroine is played by a clearly adult woman, rather than the young teenager, and then late-teens actresses who played her before. That seems to imply that the Heroine is aging. That brings up two questions: The Dead do not age in Lumiere without abnormal circumstances or aberrant experimentation, so does that mean that the Heroine is something other than one of the Dead? And second: Just how much time has passed from the first act to this third?     The Heroine approaches the gathering, seeking to intervene. But the noble attempts to usher Los off-stage. The Heroine calls out, pointing to the Duchess. "'Hold. I have business with both of these souls.'" Stopping, the noble and Los turn to face the Heroine.     "'My business comes first, and is of a more pressing priority.'"     The Heroine props her hands on her hips. "'Oh? But my business is the restoration of peace and order in Lumiere, through the gathering of heroes. I have deemed these two souls to have the capacity to become Champions.'"     The noblewoman bows half at the waist. "'What a laudable goal you pursue. However, through your efforts, the nobility have been weakened, while there has been no replacement for our leadership, leaving much of Lostrata unmanaged. Disorder and despair are beginning to take root as the Light of the gods vanishes from this world. My goal is also to restore order and peace. You of all should know that those can not always be obtained at the edge of a blade.'" The noble gestures with her fan at Sol. "'You appear to have a mighty soul there. Why not each of us take one? There must be those who manage, and those who enforce, for true order. Those who rule are the former, those who engage in heroics the latter. It seems only fair.'"     The Heroine does not seem moved by the noble, but Sol and Los seem to be torn. Eventually, the Heroine says, "'The state of Lostrata is in large part due to those who manage not knowing the plight of those being managed. Before one can rule wisely, one must have experienced hardship and shown compassion, and made the effort to know the circumstances of as many as possible. When there are no suitable candidates to rule, that is when I arbitrate matters, by force if necessary. Violence is not my first answer to the troubles of others.'"     The Duchess then hides the lower half of her face wtih her fan. "'Perhaps we are approaching this the wrong way. Perhaps, what we should do, is to ask these two themselves what their desires are. To force those uninvolved into an existence of conflict can scarcely be claimed to be the workings of one who desires peace, after all. So what say you?'"     She looks first to Los.     "'I know little of this realm I have entered into. But I know that I am not a fighter, and do not seek conflict. If I could be of use and be respected, for aiding others without need to resort to violence, that, I think, would be a very fine thing.'" 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna is FAR from happy at the appearance of this Duchess. The very spitting image of the sorts of lifestyles that she loathes seeing in prevalence. "Noodle-limbed woman couldn't heft a dagger to save her life." The foxgirl grouches with some disdain, immediately distrustful of her motives in the story and manuevering. For she sees the motions of that fan!     It's probably to hide her wicked smile.     "No wonder this place is such a mess... but what happened to the Luna? Hm..." 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe looks over to Kushiko for a moment and then thinks as she's about to say something but it seems she was right there was Treachery afoot indeed in this and she now wonders is this play based on something that happened in this world's past. She is rapt with attention on this and she wonders now as she looks to the Tenno. "I wonder if this is based on something that happened." She also looks to Finna "We will find out soon enough." 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian doesn't miss the importance of the Heroine's apparent aging. He hasn't been here long enough to know just HOW significant that is, but it does seem a curious thing. His focus is on the verbal sparring between the Duchess and the Heroine. It's the eternal struggle; as long as people are people and people rule, the ruling class will always be corrupt. Even if in this case she has a point. Then again, both do.     Finna's words get a nod, though Dorian does not speak. He can see it too, the beginning of the divide. He isn't going to hazard a guess just now, but he has some inkling of where this is all going. It is, indeed, not a nice place that it's going, if he's right.... 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' As the play progresses, were she able to show an expression properly, it would be one of modest disgust given the noblewoman's actions. <"Insidiuous."> comes the young girl's murmur. There's truth, that someone, something needs to manage, to govern; inevitably, something must act for the good of all. Yet there's more to this, and she's growing even more bothered by it, though having a Warframe here makes it a bit easier to actually hide it, visually. Vocally? <"Makes me wonder if some of the things that have happened were due to their subtle guidance,"> she murmurs, her cyclopean head bobbing once towards Tomoe. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe pauses for a moment at Kushikos and nods back. "So wait are you implying someone wanted to wreck the entire system?" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The noblewoman then turns to Sol. "'And you? What do you think?'"     Sol makes a gesture all around him. "'I think that neither I nor my new friend have enough information about this world to make an informed decision. As this one says, one must learn before one can rule with wisdom. While it is not my intent to rule, nor do I seek needless conflict, I can not reasonably be expected to choose between two equally dubious paths offered by temptresses when I have only just arrived!'"     "'I am no temptress,' objected the Heroine. 'I am one who has fought long and hard so that others do not have to. I bring forth order and peace, but I do not foster complacency or callousness. Peace and order are not things bought with gold or spent to feed greedy souls. When the world is not fit to sustain this philosophy, it is not me, but the world, that I change.'"     "'I am a noble. It is part of my trade to persuade, it is true. But I would not call myself a temptress. There are no illicit offers here, only one who has seen Lostrata before our dear Heroine's efforts to change the world, as well as the results, and recognizes that something is missing. The land of the dead is too vast to be run by a band of heroes running from place to place on a constant crusade to put to rest fears and problems. While her mission statement may be to teach others to solve their own problems, at some point, a system more indirect than personal arbitration becomes necessary, for agreement can not always be found. If everyone knows the rules, and works from the same starting point, providing and resolving becomes substantially easier. Someone to handle matters when they get out of hand is, indeed, necessary. But would it not be best to take all reasonable measures to stop it from getting out of hand to start with?'"     Sol seems to be lost in thought, walking back and forth, and even Los, already stating his choice, appears to be reconsidering. The lights go down except on Sol, everyone else staying still. He speaks to himself, and it seems as though none of the others can 'hear' him.     "'These philosophies of heroism and rule, of community and responsibility, of the difference between Order and Law, are new to me. Though honeyed words might deceive, a hidden truth lies within. I must learn more before becoming a hero, but for me, the choice is not between heroism and rule, for it was not I chosen to aid the nobles. If I choose not to protect, then what will become of me? Will I ever again have a chance to build a new existence here? Will I regret not acting to help those in need directly, pinning my hopes on a far-flung future solution? I am not fit to rule. But I must, at least, learn the skills of a hero. Then I can decide for myself, how they will be applied.'" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The light moves to Los, who stands aside, speaking seemingly to no one but himself, likewise unheard. "'Sol speaks wisely. He may already have the merit to be a ruler, by not judging before he knows the whole of a situation. I, who chose rashly based upon the hope of being and doing better than I did in life, should I aid these nobles in their task? Should I not seek to learn what it is they wish of me first before agreeing? Though I have been offered the chance to be a hero, is there really a choice here? I would always be lesser to a man such as Sol. Nay, there is no choice. I may not be fit to rule, but to be a shining champion who stands at the side of a Heroine that is like a goddess, inspiring me to something I can not attain, would be the greater burden. Perhaps, working together from different places, Sol and I can learn about and chance this world, without repeating the mistakes of those who came before us.'"     The lights come back up on the group of four, and Sol gestures as he speaks. "'I do not know that I am qualified to be a Hero. But I feel that traveling at your side would be the best way to learn more about the land of the dead, its problems, and its people. Whether to rule, to protect, or simply to live among others, to know and understand can not be a detriment to whatever path I follow.'"     "'While I am flattered that such a beautiful soul as this one would consider my soul to have the same weight as my friend's, I fear that the life of an adventurer does not suit me. One man can only do so much. It would be far better, I think, to learn how to make a system that will not foster corruption or idleness upon the part of those who manage it, that benefits directs those they provide laws for. For that is the very meaning of what it is to be a 'ruler'. One who makes rules. That does not mean the ruler must benefit from them more than all the rest who follow the same rules. We must work apart for now, Sol, and meet again when we have gathered all the knowledge we can. Together, I know we can reach a solution.'"     The Duchess bows once more. "'It appears it is decided then. One soul will follow each of us, until they decide their own path.'"     The Heroine says, "'We shall see.'"     Then the two pairs part ways, walking off different sides of the stage, and out of sight. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' A slight 'ehh' kind of hand gesture from the Tenno to answer Tomoe. Mostly because she didn't want to cause too much noise as the play continues. And given their words, there's a faint 'hnn' sound that comes from her. <"Nothing is quite so black and white. A system of rule is based on trust. In an ideal world, that trust doesn't risk being betrayed, and stays balanced. But ... ideal worlds do not exist."> A cynical observation, perhaps. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' A hard choice comes up here and she wonders some about hte three new factions in the multiverse. She only nods tothe Tenno too not wnating to make much more noise. She does ponder what Kushiko said. She does not let her gaze linger for too long on her friend as it returns ot the stage as the tale contiunes, three different compeating view points it seems. It does seem to lean in an odd way to the Concord, Watch and Paladins. Tomoe though is aware of her choice to not join any of them. 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' The noble and the Heroine both claim to have the interests of the commoners at heart. The difference is that the noble believes in a top-down system, where the Heroine believes in a bottom-up system. Though he's loathe to side with a noble, he can't deny that there are certain truths to her rhetoric. There is, occasionally, the need for an infrastructure to uphold the tenets of society. The only question is what she considers to be 'the same starting point.' Of the two, he favors her angle more, but half-heartedly. She's rich and powerful, and likely not inclined to give either of those up.      Silver, on the other hand, feels more in line with the Heroine's point of view, albeit with just as much uncertainty as Flint. Ever the survivor, he's never been much beholden to authority figures. It's not that he hates authority, it's just that he's never seen the need for it, and has gotten along perfectly fine without it. Everyone's just convinced themselves that they need it. Even Nassau, den of lawlessness that it is, has its movers and shakers. But surely there's some place that gets along just fine without people at the top making all of the decisions? Where the decisions are made jointly, by the people who actually have a stake? "I dunno," he mutters.      Flint briefly glances at Silver, eyebrows raised inquisitively.      "It's nothing," says the younger pirate idly. Don't wanna get Flint talking about politics during a play--that'd get him on everyone's shit list for sure. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian sits back in his chair a bit. That most certainly does seem to be the way of things, he observes. For a pair of friends to go their separate ways, and remain apart for a long period of time, surely they'd grow apart and have nothing in common by the time they got around to see each other again.     Besides, women are always trouble.     It is pretty typical of power struggles, though -- everybody has their own agenda one way or another, and nobody's working for anything but that. So nothing gets done, because those in charge are too busy with their own petty squabbles to give much of a toss what's going on with the people beneath them.     Not that Dorian is completely immune to that way of thinking -- he didn't start realizing that there was something inherently wrong with slavery until he left his rich, pampered home and went out into the world to learn that 'slavery' and 'indentured servitude' were two different things.     But that's neither here nor there, when there's still a play to watch. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     "'It would be quite some time before the two souls met again. But meet they did, over and over, trying to retain some semblance of who they were upon first arriving and deciding to befriend a stranger. But over time, the absence of the favor of the gods, save a select few, drove desperate throngs to demand answers, or to leave the Lostrata in search of something more. And the growing threat of wicked forces and monstrous beings in the other Candles meant many fleeing hardship ran directly into the jaws of danger. And as she watched all of this, the Wandering Power, now called Luna, felt her inability to directly intervene was a flaw in her vessel.'"     The now-intact Underworld Moon hovers in the sky as the scenery changes to a silhouette of a cityscape. "'Though she had grown much larger than she once was, and had great power, she still did not know how best to use it, or who to use it for. She was a child after all. And children are readily influenced.'"     The curtains close, the stage lights dimming, and the light level among the audience returning to normal, as this act ends on an ominous note, of a new-born entity with the remnant power of multiple gods put together, who is watching all of this unfold, and learning lessons that perhaps she should not be. 
}}

5620/Good Night, Moon - Act II

2018-02-02T04:30:53Z

Doctor Doctor:

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/01/01
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=A play in five parts. Part two.
|Cast of Characters=974, 513, 1067, 774, 964, 6, 954
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     On the tail of the first act, there seems to be a time set aside for intermission as things are set up for the next. They have just the tale of a heroine who came to Lumiere and changed the lot of the Dead who were not of the nobility, and taught some of the nobility what they had forgotten about humility and basic empathy, as construction is now underway to build a church of some kind.     The blue-black-flamed candles scattered about the edges of the open-air theater are capped and the light from outside the circle of glyphs retreats inwards to restore visibility to those in the seats. A number of the civilian Lanterns seem so utterly shell-shocked by the alien experience, so enthralled, that they are not certain how to react. The warrior Lanterns seem intrigued as well, but regain their senses more quickly once the meager lights come back up. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' The tale that's been given thus far is far from the sort Finna's used to hearing, but she's saw fit to treat it with full attention. The same she gives to any tale told by the Lunar Elders at a gather!     For a performance such as this is worth that much respect from her. And focus. Which, as anyone might realize if they know her, she has trouble giving. Restless fox is restless!     And that might be why Dorian will find himself being subjected to a periodic BUMP on the rear from her white-furred tail swishing back and forth at hyper speed!     "A home for everyone... a home for everyone... that does soooooouuuuund nice....." 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' "Look there," mutters Flint to Silver with a subtle hand motion. He points out a small group of civilian Lanterns. That a play would have such a profound effect on them, that it would seem so wholly unfamiliar an experience, really conveys the Spartan lifestyles they must live.      Silver comments on this, his brow briefly furrowing as he leans closer to Flint. "Well," he says, "It's better than the reception this would get in Nassau," he says.      "Of course," replies Flint. "These people had civilization and lost it. Nassau, however, has never had it and doesn't trust it." He gives a thought to the heroine, and her interaction with the nobles. There were few such people in his world, exceptional enough to get reform at the point of a sword. He'd change that. "I'd wager the average citizen would see something like this as the vanguard of high society attempting to take the island from them, and mock it accordingly. Few people realize art is for everyone," adds the captain with a nod towards the stage hands working to prepare the next scene. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     It all makes sense to Dorian so far. Then again he's always been of the opinion that prioritizing individual freedoms over making the population at large not be bastards to each other tends to be a bad idea. He shifts in his seat as the lights come back up, and notes the swatting of a fox-tail. That surprises him for a moment, but then he remembers -- Multiverse. He looks in Finna's direction, not bothering with the tailswatting. Tevinter is, after all, the land of mabari -- think 'pitbull crossed with mastiff'; their tails are dangerous. Fox tail is probably slightly less so.     "Oh, I'm sur eit SOUNDS lovely. But there's always a catch," Dorian replies. "Though at least it's not where I'm from. In Tevinter, you have some crazy bastard rise up and attempt to make life better for everyone, someone will complain that their personal freedoms are being trod upon." In a voice clearly mocking of the kind of person who would want to think it, he says, "'No, let's not lift up the whole society by enforcing things that should be common decency, I'm a rich twat and I want to still be able to take a truncheon to the underclass'." He rolls his eyes a bit. "You know the type. I'm just glad it seemed to go better for her." He tilts his head towards the stage, indicating the heroine. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' It's a long pause before the Tenno elects to properly say anything: after all, that meditative pose of hers, floating as she does, a few feet above the ground. <"Can't help but feel there might be something tragic in the end."> How the Moon came to be, the heroine and her admirers, the conflict to come. The 'heroine' needing to impose her will for the good of others. She unfolded her feet, the odd 'gaze' of the Orokin-enhanced Mag sweeping towards the warriors and civilians alike, momentarily pausing on those multiversally originated, particularly as Dorian puts to words of what she's thinking. <"But there's more to this play, so maybe... might not go that well."> 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe is enjoying the show so far it's bene pretty enteraining and she's got a feeling this might tell a bit of this world's lost history in a way. She pauses at Flint's comment about art is for everyone. "I have to agree there, though the art fan and the worker might take something different from it." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     There is some further time to discuss and interact before the next act. When it begins, the lights dim once more, to be replaced with that faint midnight hue. The narrator speaks once more. "Though none could measure, much time passed. Changes were wrought upon Lumiere, and the system that had once replaced rule by king continued to collapse. In the midst of it, the many temples scattered throught Lostrata began to lose the Light of the gods they were devoted to. This left the people who relied upon the miracles of their patrons in chaos and confusion."     The curtains open upon a silhouetted background of a vast open space laid out beyond a cliff or platform of some kind, a monumental palace in the distance with many needle-like towers. Detail is hard to make out because the background is likely constructed from paper or cardboard or carved wood, but it is enough to imply tremendous scale given the smaller buildings and towers at the palace's base, indicated through back-lighting with candles.     "But then rumors began of a new god. One whom the heroine knew. She and her followers went forth to confront this god and learn their purpose in coming to Lostrata."     The heroine walks out onto the platform, perhaps slightly more developed than the young woman who was in the first act, or at least taller. Followed after by others in all-black to mask their forms, with only their piecemeal armor to indicate their bodies, and featureless white masks for faces.     "'Come forth, God of Invention. I wish to speak with you and learn your intentions.' called the heroine."     A pillar of golden light begins to shine down from above, as a horned figure completely in pale armor, with a sharp-mouthed and slit-eyed mask is lowered down on a pulley system or something.     "'I respond to your call as you are familiar, but I do not heed demands. Ask what you wish of me with due respect, and I shall answer.'" 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "ooooooof." What a downer, Dorian. That's the message contained in the scorny look - almost pouty really - that Finna sends at him. Glowering, 'kill the assholes with faceripping' is the gist of what one gets from that look.     "Do let me know of any sorts like that? Especially if they're rich, hm?" She asides to him after snorting in disgust. Yes, the request's made in an almost sweet tone.     What could she be planning?     She quiets instantly as the play continues... and eyes widen at the idea of, temples losing their gods? How?     She's left staring up at the gleaming 'God of Invention', garbed in a manner she has SERIOUSLY never seen. A manner that clearly has her puzzled if her series of blinking is any sign. "... the only god left is one of... invention?" 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' God of Invention... hn. Perhaps an allegory to the changing times? Given what Kushiko herself has seen, she herself being somewhat technologically 'heavy' herself... squints. Far and further away from here, she squints, leaning forward in her chair, before settling back in. That motif was familiar. Yet not. She couldn't place it, and it irritated her /not/ to place it, so it would likely bug her the rest of this play. <"Not one that was there from before, I don't think."> she remarks, loud enough for Finna and the others to hear. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian nods to Kushiko's words. "Oh, of course it does," he says, of her words of the heroine's work ending badly. His tone says that he's prepared for a tragic ending, in fact. "Can telling people to stop being bastards to each other ever end any way BUT badly?" Dorian is kind of a Negative Nancy at times, though, so... yeah.     He actually laughs quietly at Finna's look. As for her offer? "If I arranged for everyone in Tevinter who deserved it to suffer an 'accident', there'd be no one left. Including me. We're not all perfect, but there ARE people worth saving there. But if there's any particularly bastard-y ones there that happen to be in the way of progress, I'll definitely let you know." He gives a smile -- an actual smile, mind you. He's grateful for the offer.     And then the lights dim again. "Oh, here we are," Dorian remarks. "Let's see what horrible fate awaits the heroine, shall we?" He'll go quiet here, and watch to see how the story goes after that. He's genuinely curious. And maybe there's something to be learned here... 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Once the next act starts, Tomoe will go silent as the last time she saw a play really was an affair put on by several theater students caught in SAO. So it's been a really long time and she listens what could she take from this play aside from enjoying herself there seems to be something to it. She muses about the God of Inventions and what that could entail. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Not all of the followers of the heroine seem certain about challenging a god, indicated by the way they mime turning their heads and cupping their mouths to silently whisper to each other. But most of them stand fast with the one they came to defend.     "'Why have you come to Lostrata, God of Invention?'"     "'I have felt a presence gathering strength, while many others fall.'"     "'You believe this growing Power to be the result of the Light of other gods failing -- or the cause?'"     The armored figure alights upon the ground.     "'I do not come in judgment. It is answers I seek, not to reinforce assumptions. Do not persecute this Power, and inform those who follow you to abstain from such as well, and also all the people of Lostrata. Whatever the cause or result of the loss of Light, this Wandering Power that travels from place to place, collecting strength, will be met and its intentions measured on their own merit. It is not the way of the God of Invention to destroy a source of knowledge on the basis of fear, suspicion, or a pretentious moral highground.'" Then the god ascends on the line again, as the followers of the heroine bow their heads. The heroine nods at least.     "And so the heroine and her followers went to the Second Coin of Lostrata, to tell the nobility, for they would likely be the quickest to judge and act on their own behalf, that they were not to confront or incite animosity against what the God of Invention had named the 'Wandering Power'. And the God of Invention went alone to find this Power, and converse with it."     The background is slid aside to reveal a street somewhere lined with white buildings like an array of temples. The small Power that had been but a child or very short person beneath a sheet crawling about now stands on its own two feet, still concealed, but walking upright.     "'Here now, here now,' the Wandering Power said to herself. 'The offerings gathered here go to waste. The essence of souls goes stale and dark. The Light has ceased falling and no longer reaches the worshippers. I will take it into my possession for now and share it with these who need it.'"     The sheet-wearing figure, a single eye hole cut out to look through, seems to be going about with a bowl or basin of some kind and scooping up tin foil tassles from the the ground that reflects the pale spotlight shining down upon her. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' As the play progresses, her head cants slightly, mulling over her own thoughts as much as Dorian's words given. <"Maybe, maybe not. Something feels odd about all this. Grain of truth, isn't it, in all stories?"> Then again, given what memories she /does/ have, the Orokin and others, people were incapable of being anything but bastards. Not that she thought 'bastards'. There's probably an analogue to her thoughts that's better left unexplored. <"... though, that same Power as before... maybe she's going to act as she thinks the heroine would and..."> She falls silent, that odd, quiet reverberating voice of hers falling quiet, no longer moving amidst the Elites she knows here. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     "A kernet of truth to the great nut that is history. But that kernel of truth tends to get caught in people's teeth when trying to digest it," Dorian notes quietly. Not wishing to be rude to other audience members, of course, he keeps his voice only as loud as necessary to carry to Kushiko.     He also nods to her trailed-off words. They may or may not be thinking the same thing, and either one may or may not be correct. But he watches the play otherwise silently, both feet remaining on the ground, one arm folded over his middle, the other hand (the one wearing the golden-clawed glove) curved against his chin thoughtfully. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Challenging a god, that's still something thar brin gs Tomoe pause, given how she's been involved in the creation of a world, minorly but still played a part. She should check upon Afterus soon. She leaned back and watches with further intrest her long ears twitching slightly, which she's totally unaware of they were doing. "There tends to be a bit of truth in legends I find. Painfully so here in the multiverse, like creation works the way my world thought it did..." 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' Flint's brow furrows, his chin stroking at his goatee thoughtfully. He and John Silver both share a pensive look. It seems neither one of them expected the God of Invention to be so... well, reasonable. In Silver's general experience, and in Flint's experience with media from more modern worlds, most stories like this would've set the Power up as an antagonist or a force to be worked against.      "Oh, shit," mutters John Silver with a grin at seeing the Power. "I think I'm starting to see how this plays out."      "Perhaps," says Flint, raising his eyebrows and nodding towards the stage. "Perhaps not. It's surprised us twice already." 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "The Second Coin? That's where we're exploring now, isn't it?" Finna taps the side of her cheek in thought, as numerous such whirl around in her head. But a smile's brought to her face at the God of Invention's given attitude. Not judging a thing based on morals or initial reactions, how very akin to Luna.     She makes a mental note to keep a sharp eye out for this God of Invention in the future!     "... The Church of Bleak Mercy?" She wonders under her breath at where this Wandering power might be going with things! 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The God of Invention is once again lowered down upon a line to join those already on-stage. "The Wandering Power, so used to going unseen, paid the God of Invention no mind upon his arrival. Not even upon being called out to. But when that divine being stood in her path over and over..."     What follows is the God of Invention moving in the way of the sheet-wearing figure repeatedly each time she tries to go around or a different direction. "...Even she had to realize that there was one who was aware of her existence."     "'What's this! What's this! One who is aware of me? Knows me? Can move in rhythm to my wandering will? Such a thing has never happened! Who are you, stranger, that does what no other has done before you?'"     The God of Invention touches down upon the stage once more. "'If is not I whose identity you should concern yourself with, little Power. Do you know yourself? If so, say to me what you should be called. Self-identification is important, before asking the name of another.'"     The sheet-garbed thing that has been moving this way and this in excitement pauses in thought. "'I do not know who or what I am. I started off as a feeling that there must be something more. But then I watched that Heroine, and I became a hope that I could do what she could. Then that hope became a thought of what and how to affect change. When I saw there were many who rely upon the Light that falls down upon these buildings to give them guidance, to provide them nourishment for their souls, inspiration when they tire of their existence, and that their offerings were being left upon the altar without being taken, and no more Light was falling, only gathering in little pools, I said quietly to myself the word that was what I should be doing for them.' The Wandering Power stopped then, giving the God of Invention a moment to consider her words."     The God gestures around at all the temples. "'So, nameless one, Wandering Power, you are defined not by title but by your heart, your thoughts, your words, and your actions. You have taken power from the temples of Athena, and Odin, and Amaterasu, and Vishnu, and Quetzalcoatl, and all of these others. You have, as one, amassed the divine miracles and favor of many, many gods, as well as the essence cast off by those seeking divine guidance. You are not a god, but you are a being that in some ways dwarfs them.'"     "The small Power did not know what to say. These matters were beyond her understanding. But then this god asked of her the all-important question that would determine her destiny. 'What word did you speak to yourself that tells me what you intend to do?'"     "The Wandering Power showed no hesitance to this question. She had no idea that there was any particular in store for her, no fear of what might happen if she spoke wrongly, or that there was such a thing as her words being wrong. They were truth. What could they be but good? 'Enlighten.' she said. 'It is my earnest wish, and what I have chosen to do, that I make this place of death and decay bright and full of light, to lift those who wallow in despair up into hope, and teach them how to be good to themselves and others. I wish to Enlighten this place, so that we can all see clearly, even in the dark, and none shall feel they are alone as long as I watch over them.'" 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' A 'glance' from the faceless Mag Warframe of Kushiko's towards some of the others, given their words. <"I'm beginning to think this will unfold in a way none of us are fully expecting."> There's hints, there's bits that, given what she, Finna, Dorian, Flint and Tomoe have done here, that it may prove worthwhile to ask later of say, a certain scholar. 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' The names of the gods cause a spark of interest in Flint's eyes. Those are all figures from Earth mythology, sourced from a variety of cultures. Did those beings exist here in some way, or are those names merely tools the playwright used to move the plot along? Though he doesn't know what Kushiko is thinking, the two of them have the same idea. This is something worth bringing up with Enark. The history of this world might be more interesting than he thought, and already it's stranger than most he's been to. It's like a mundane world tilted on its side by some magical force. If the way the captain leans forward and rests his chin upon a hand is any indication, he's enthralled. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord frowns a bit at the mention of gods that he doesn't recognize beyond what mention he's heard in the Multiverse so far. He shifts about in his seat some and follows the Wandering Power's movements, as its presence seems to represent something he has yet to see or experience. "Bloody Earth mythology," he complains aloud, reaching up to rub at his stubbled jaw with one of his gauntlets, careful not to scratch himself with the claws he's got on them. "What is a 'Vishnu' anyways...?" By this point, a soft red glow shines and a Murkrow manifests on his shoulder. The creature is greying, and almost crackles like a proper crow, but refrains from doing so when she realizes that there's a show going on.     And because Kord reaches up to pet her without looking away from the play. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe totally gets things beyond her understanding, she's not sure how it's going to pan out and there's some odd names that come up? She raies one eyuebrow here still there's more life on this stage than, some shows put on by the living have. She is paying close attentiona and wonders about this world a world that saw her coming before her earth likely existed... 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:''' TIt's a thoughtful look Dorian's got on his face here, even though he isn't speaking just yet. Well, half thoughtful and maybe a bit of a frown. Dismay? Is he upset? It's hard to tell; the expression is pensive however. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' This turn of events brings a smile to Finna's face. Someone watching over everything is a nice idea. If only it were a LITTLE more true.. but not TOO much...     She nibbles on her lip at this idea, unsure where her loyalties and philosophies ought to lie. Taking care of everyone isn't the way of her patron... not so directly. Right?     "Something grander than a god? What could that even BE?" Is all she's willing to float at this point. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The God of Invention, golden-armored, horned, jagged-mawed, slit-eyed, seems as thoug he could have been a more intimidating figure than how he conducts himself, even in this scrap-metal costume patterned after ancient legend. But there is nothing intimidating about his answer. "'You have gathered much power. But you have nowhere to hold it all. To simply sprinkle it lightly upon others will accomplish only minor good, barely better than simple luck, and there are many bad in Lumiere who might try to take it from you for their own purposes. To do the greatest good, you must concentrate this Light you have gathered, to assemble it into a vessel, so that you may share it. In that Light, they can learn, seek knowledge, and not be lost in the dark when they try to find who they are in beyond a name and a form.'"     The Wandering Power tilts to the side. "'How would I go about obtaining such a vessel?' this new Power queried. The God of Invention answered, 'I shall build you a vessel in the sky. A Wandering Eye for the Wandering Power, to watch over all of Lostrata, and cast your Light down upon them. Perhaps, in time, you will watch over all of Lumiere.'"     The god then offers his golden-clawed hand, superficially similar to Dorian's glove in a way, to the sheet-covered figure, and she accepts with her sheet-covered hand in turn. "'I shall give you a name. It is fitting, since you will soon have a vessel to be recognized by as well. It will give the people something to call you by. Perhaps... Luna.'"     The newly-named Luna tries the name out a few times. "'Luna. Luna. It is a nice name. Or I think it is a nice name, as I have never had another. But now that I have a name to offer, can you tell me yours?'"     The God of Invention turns as he begins to lead Luna away off-stage. "'I am known by many names. The God of Invention is my title... But you may call me Cro.'"     The lights dim except on a large moon replica laid out in blue lines, almost like a blueprint, that begins to descend from above the stage, hanging there, until the stage lights go out completely and the curtains close, signifying the end of Act II. 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' John Silver is the first of the two pirates to start clapping, and he does so with a smile. Flint, pleasantly surprised, joins in with him. "Well?" asks the older pirate, in the midst of applauding. "Did it go the way you thought it would?"      "Sort of," says Silver with a shrug. "I didn't expect the god of invention to invent the moon for Luna. But I did figure that Power was her."      The play does raise some interesting questions. For instance, how does the Light play into this? Most worlds have a day and a night--and it sounds like this Light is both a metaphor for enlightenment and a representation of the daylight. "I'm interested to see what comes of the relationship between Luna and this 'Light,'" says Flint. "And what the god of invention's motive is."      "You don't think it's simple altruism?"      Flint chuckles at that. "It's possible, I suppose," says the captain. "But, ask Finna if she thinks that's the case. Or Mr. Pavus." Evidently, he imagines the two of them would agree. "We'll see," says the captain, resting his arms on the surface of the desk he's seated in. Makeshift theatre seating is quite the experience. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' A soft, quiet clapping does follow at the conclusion of this act--mostly due to Flint clapping. She's never gone to a play herself, after all. Nonetheless as more pieces fall into place, she's a little less cynical, but more quietly contemplative. 'Cro'. Crow. <"Makes me /really/ wonder what these guys were able to learn,"> she murmurs softly. <"It's... weird, though. The Moon holds special significance for me, for us, as well. We know it as Lua."> It's a little introspective wonder, given the gleaming gold of Cro, and Luna, the moon. It cleaves... a little closer to home than she'd readily surrender. Which goes beyond her usual enigmatic self anyways. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian also offers applause as the curtains close on the second act. It's a slightly metallic sound thanks to the metal bits on his glove, but it's applause nonetheless. He's been keeping mental notes about the story so far. It's certainly interesting. And it raises quite a few questions. But finding the right person to ask would be difficult. Besides, some may get answered in the course of the play.     With the whole 'hole in the sky' bit in his own world keeping him busy, Dorian's missed quite a few matters in Lumiere, so he isn't exactly sure where all this fits in, but there's probably more to it than he can just 'just ask' anyone about. Perhaps he'll be able to catch up and it will eventually settle into something he can make some sense out of... 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' SPLUTTER! Finna's left pretty flabbergasted. This is what the Moon of this place represents? Hope? Enlightenment? Guidance? But what she heard, she wasn't expecting at all. It leaves her staring dumbfoundedly, jaw gaping a little. When she finally shuts it, it's because of her sharp ears hearing Flint say what he does... she shakes her head rapidly as if to clear it.     "Ooooosh. Don't know WHAT to think down here anymore. Everything I know is topsy-turvy! Gods... Gods, in Creation, they do what they do because it is what they are. A God of Invention will make things... or sponsor making new things... because the more new things that come about, the more they are glorified. Like... a god of drunken stupors wants more people to get drunk. Might be nice, might not. Doesn't matter. Making sure people get drunk is priority one! But some gods are nice. Some gods care."     She then goes on to add, smiling, "... I think this one cares." Because that name. THAT NAME.     They really need to find that mischievious little shadow!     Hearing others clap, she chides herself for fogetting such a basic courtesy and joins in with all honesty! 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe watche as new players join the play the talk of Luna? That does get her attention, she joins the Captain and his men in apluading the act and seems to have enjouned this so far she wonders where this is going and this is one of her better visists to this strange and broken afterlife. 
}}

5611/Good Night, Moon

2018-02-02T04:30:11Z

Doctor Doctor:

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/12/22
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=A play in five parts. Part one.
|Cast of Characters=974, 774, 964, 513, 954, 6, 1067
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Tacet Sanctos, the walled community of civilian Lanterns, those predatory undead so deprived of soul essence and subject to so many deaths that even their base instinct to hunt and consume has been driven out of them, or reduced to a ghost of itself. They do not even fight to defend themselves, instead cowering, fleeing, or dying where they stand in a haze of confusion and missing identity.     But they no longer have to face that danger, because they have their own place to reside. Their own homes, even their own businesses as they put their remaining memories of skills to work. Hand-crafted trinkets cobbled together from scraps, as well as salvaged weapons, armor, and ammunition make up the majority. There is little of real value, since they can not exactly go hunt for treasure in places filled with monsters as other Lanterns can, but it can be enough of a venue for stocking up that warriors passing through stop to spend their accumulated Dead Lights.     While this means the Lanterns may eventually start regaining some of their old Lantern behaviors or assembling more complete selves who do not get along quite as well as they are right now, that is simply the price to pay for being what they are. And for now, these dead creatures are consuming the fragments of spirit energy they receive to restore their bodies and appearances and stave off hunger than for power.     As always, for those who can sense it, Lanterns are shells of darkness, with a stolen spark of Light at their core. Stolen soul fragments, not truly people in and of themselves. That is what soul-based senses say.     And with the awkward, dazed, shambling way these weak and starved creatures move about, it would be easy to conclude that's what they are. But they are doing their best to exist here and carry out lives long passed among others in the same boat. Would a mere imitation bother?     The news that some sort of play is being held was advertised, in the same cryptic way that the visitations to the past on each Hallow's Eve have been. Letters sent out far and wide, with the reason for some people being targeted being obvious, but others, people who have never been involved here, leaving the motivations more dubious and ambiguous.     But arrival either way, first through the magical fall through darkness, then by passing through the Grim Bone Gate and arriving at the Church of Bleak Mercy, then stepping outside the church yard gates to the gradually expanding village outside.     Things have definitely been changing in Lumiere, or at least in this part of Lostrata. It is not quite as dark around the Church, partially due to the addition of electric lights and torches. But it just seems at though that near-tangible darkness in the air is not as pervasive. It doesn't weigh down upon people as it used to, like a heavy cloak.     The streets are not so ruined and filth-ridden, most of the detritus and random wheelbarrows and smashed cars and so on have been cleared out or repurposed, the houses and businesses have tenants, and new structures have even been built with the help of Kord's soldiers and Staren's robots and the contributions of the Lanterns themselves.     One of these stands in what was once an open plaza surrounded by buildings great for sniping those foolish enough not to stick to the shadows, and ambush-prone alleyways, but now a center of simple things that emulate the activities of the Living... Like entertainment.     It is an open area, with a stage and curtains and many seats of various kinds, ranging from folding chairs to recliners to stone benches and school desks. Whatever could be scavenged and put to use.     Many of the Lanterns are already seated. The majority are civilians, but hanging about the eaves of the surrounding buildings, warriors lurk as well, perhaps curious to see what this is all about, or perhaps hungry for knowledge of the world they may have once been part of. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     If there's going to be a formal event, Dorian's going in his Tevinter formal best. He generally wears white, but this time he's tended for black and gold. A snug, well-fitting, long-sleeved shirt; over that, a sleeveless black robe with edges trimmed in gold, and a rich golden embroidery of a snake all over it, front and back. If nothing else has been preserved from his usual attire, the degree of asymmtricality has; the robe is shorter on the left side, reaching only to the knee on that side, while the right reaches well past that, to his shin.     He wears a loose pair of black pants with it, in a surprisingly simple and unandorned style. These pants reach his knees, where they're tucked into gold-toned knee-length boots of leather. The foot of the boot though, is black, and has a golden piping around the sides. Around his waist is a thick golden belt, with the clasp worked into the shape of a snake with its body formed into a lemniscate. A heavy black cloak with a deep red broach fastening is thrown over the lot.     He wears a couple of rings on his fingers, and his ears are pierced as well, draped with thin chains. All gold, of course. He carries a staff topped with what looks like a human skull. And of course his clawed gauntlet, though this time the silvery metal is gold-toned. He definitely looks much more like the necromancer he admits to being.     The weirdness of the trip notwithstanding, Dorian's here to enjoy a play. He will majestically seat himself on upon whichever one of the seats looks like it will keep most of his outfit out of the mud and/or dirt under him and lean his staff against his side. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' For what it's worth, Kushiko doesn't inherently have what one would explicitly deem 'soul-based' sensory elements to her. Yet at the same time, there's an instinctual knowledge, something that exists in her to be akin to 'like recognizes like' in the sense that she recognizes in others what she, what she's seen in others. Nonetheless, it's not something that's solid enough for her to dwell on it overlong. No, Kushiko while here in her Mag Warframe is more akin to a patient, silent guardian of sorts--least that's the impression she gives. The other is something more ominous amidst the slightly gilded look of the tabi-footed Warframe. A flowing cloak seems to animate almost entirely on it's own, and the air possesses the faintest of charge from the Warframe, a maelstrom of energy whirling about within the smoky dome of her head. Definitely a she, that's for sure, given the sleekness of her figure. It's a right little confluence of differing impressions she gives, that's for sure. Her ship, an instrument of her 'fall' in this case, banks and cloaks itself away from prying eyes having since deposited her on the outskirts for her to make her way into the walled community of Tacet Sanctos. <"They've been rebuilding well,"> she muses quietly, half to herself, half to others who might've just also arrived as well. The 'play' itself is something that she has simply vague interest in, not for the content but for how the Lanterns were, as a whole, were feeling. Perhaps the holidays had finally found a reason to be celebrated? Nonetheless, a seat would not be something she would take, instead finding a standing place to bring herself into a cross-legged, almost meditative position. Except she's floating. Hm. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' News that the Lanterns were putting on a PLAY was enough to even shock Finna! Never one to miss a good show of other entertainment, and more than a little curious to see just what the strange Dead of this foreign not-quite-Underworld get up to consider fun and interesting...     And so, not long after Dorian Pavus seats himself, a fox with a majestically fuzzy white coat seems to spring up out of nowhere onto the seat next to him and--     CRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOON!     Well, that's the best way to describe the triumphant squeaky noise it makes. Not quite a bark or a howl. A bit too scratchy. But the creature's cry is very clearly interpretable as 'let the show go commence!'     The fact that her tail's wagging with immense impatience just drives this point home a bit more. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord steps out of the gate and into Tacet Sanctos. He moves with his usual tense gait, the one that seems purposefully measured so that he does not make a sound. Shifts in the level of the floor beneath him create noticeable changes in the way he walks. He seems like a smoothly stalking predator, like he's tracking prey and doesn't want to be heard... even when he's just walking down the street. It's a clearly a habit of his.     He makes his way to the seats arranged for the play. He pauses at the edge of the audience, and turns his head to look right at Dorian Pavus, noting the oddity in the crowd immediately. Then he decides to approach and sit next to that man. The tall, imposing figure in black and red doesn't seem to make much noise as he slips over and settles down. Then he reaches up to pull the bird-like helmet off his head, and his bouncy, flowing, incredibly red hair unfurls from where the helmet held it back. He pulls his face mask used below the helmet down under his chin, and breathes a sigh as the helmet ends up in his lap. The hair looks somewhat mussed, as helmets aren't great for that.     He turns his head to look over to Finna. He even leeeans in his seat to look past Dorian and at the fox. His sleepy stare doesn't change but for the momentary furrow of curiosity in his brow.     "Hnn."     Then he sits up and looks toward the stage and barely moves except to keep an eye on his immediate surroundings and make sure none of the Lanterns with their minds intact get a funny idea and try to shoot at him. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' As there is a fox a fairy is wont to follow it seems in this world and she head there was a play too. After everything in the last few months? She could use some time to chill. She wondered what it would just be about she'll look to fox, not question it and a bit of jerky would be forked in it's direction from Tomoe's inventory. She'll then look to Dorian for a moment grinning at the mage for a moment. As she'll find her own seat and shock of all shocks? She's in some casual clothing well for a world like AOL it's a bit of a fantasy twist to her shirt, pants had a more fantasy hand made look to them but she was also wearing some sort of earing that covered the upper part of her long elf like ears. "Been a while Doriana nd you look dressed to impress." She'll keep her voice down though after all no need to make a fuss and Flint also gets a greeting from her. 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' Three boots, a crutch and a prosthetic touch upon the village path, belonging to men who have never before set foot here. They are James Flint and John Silver, captain and crewman of the Walrus, respectively. Flint figures the invitation might've come from Enark. Silver has no idea why he received one. Still, both have reasons to be here. Silver has no family to speak of (though his allegiance towards Flint and his crew grows steadily with each passing day.) Flint has Miranda, but the quiet Puritan woman, like much of her peers, sees Christmas as the trappings of papacy and doesn't much care for it.      "I guess that's the stage," says Silver, ambling along with a degree of practice in his movements. The crutch and the prosthesis beat a steady rythm into the village street.      Flint fixes the area with a discerning gaze. He's read about the arts of the future, but in terms of productions by other worlds entirely, he's relatively inexperienced. There are a few familiar faces in the makeshift seating arrangements, too. Dorian and Finna, in particular, he hasn't seen in some time.      As the two men approach, the Lunar in particular would hardly recognize John Silver. His clean-shaven look has been lost in favor of a thick mustache and stubble which every day threatens to become a beard. The fearful, calculating look hiding behind the mirth in his eyes has been replaced with determination, though a ghost of that smarm still lives within him. With a grunt, he lowers himself into a seat.      Flint makes a few quiet greetings towards acquaintances--Dorian, Kushiko, Tomoe, the fox which is clearly not Finna. With brief pleasantries out of the way, he seats himself beside Silver and folds his arms. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The entertainers have been noticeably absent up until now, but a few cloaked and hooded figures in very simplistic masks that look to almost be stitched together from whatever was lying around begin filtering out from behind the stage. Some take up positions around the edges, some at the rear, with little candles burning with blue-black flames to help newcomers find their way. Ushers of some kind then. A few appear to be inspecting some protective glyphs drawn in chalk around the square a final time to make sure nothing has been disrupted.     Anyone with sufficient knowledge of glyphs and symbols and such could probably have guessed they were protective, not malicious, in nature. And the fact they are written in Greek, with incantations about safety and invoking the 'Lords of Silence' to 'keep the song of jubilation from reaching the ears of the wicked' or something to that effect implies its intent may be to keep the sound of the play from going too far and alerting any straggling monsters.     Though a more paranoid mind might suspect it could be used to keep any help or reinforcements from hearing and coming to the rescue just as easily, it seems extremely improbable, and since they remain in direct line of sight, it's not as though anything is hidden to anyone who looks. There's simply no impression of hostility or danger here.     However, for those who have been to the events of Hallow's Eve, last year, this year, or both, there is a pseudo-familiar figure. The Mask Merchant who let people going to the past borrow special masks is here. And from the fact that no one saw him enter, it's unclear whether he was already here the whole time and just unnoticed or has appeared out of thin air.     His cart this time bears not masks but puppets. Little marionettes and wooden dolls of various kinds. His cart is smaller than the one he rents masks from, but it's still very likely the same individual that delivers a cryptic message right before the voyage to the recreation of the past begins.     A tall slender figure in the same robes, hood, and stitched-together mask as the others strides sedately out onto the stage, waiting until it has everyone's attention, or at least most people's, and then speaking in a light, airy, probably-female voice.     "Welcome to the Midnight Troupe's rendition of a tale from long, long ago. It has action, romance, intrigue, hope, and tragedy. It is a story of vengeance unfulfilled, love inrequited, mistakes made, and the consequences of yearning for what one can not obtain. But it is also a story of sacrifice, wishes granted, friendship, and second chances." The figure so tall and thin as to be ungainly bows slowly and cautiously, as though afraid she will snap at the waist if she bends too quickly or too far. "This is the story of how the Moon came to be in Lumiere, of a heroine, and her admirers, and the conflict that would spawn when two friends became rival kings."     She straightens just as slowly. "The show shall begin shortly. It is our hope that you will enjoy it."     Then she leaves the stage, off behind one of the curtains. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Well that's one way to announce oneself, Kushiko muses of the 'cron' of the fox which is clearly not Finna. Yep. Totally not at all anything related. Nope. A slight gesture, a wisp of lilac tinted light--was it--no, it wasn't as Mag that she met with Dorian so seemingly long ago. Memory issues plagued her sometimes, nonetheless she did wave to the Tevinter mage with some vague sense of familiarity. Tomoe and Finna probably hadn't seen Mag either, same with Flint, but she believed Kord had? ...huh. Perhaps an inadvertent notion of anonymity here. Such was life. Still, there was an oddly familiar presence she had, at least when it came to the colors, so it worked out. <"Midnight Troupe, huh. Seems appropriate,"> the Tenno deadpans lightly through that odd little vocalization the Void provides for her. Not that she has a real 'eye' for it but she's kind of staring at Silver a bit. Did he shave? ... hrrrnh. Nonetheless, she returns to her own bit of quiet for the show to commence. It's hard for her to socialize as is sometimes! 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian's eye is draws to how Kushiko's Frame's cape seems to move by itself -- those sorts of creepy effects are something he really appreciates, and he tends not to view them as 'creepy' at all. What's creepy to him? Nug feet. They're enough like human hands to be DISTURBING! Anyway. Yes, the cape.     And then suddenly the screechy crooning squeak. "Ah!" He jumps in his seat, his staff falling over to the ground as he's startled by SUDDENLY FOX! And he looks at the creature like it's lost its mind. He's pretty sure it's someone he knows. "Do warn someone before you do that right next to one's ear, won't you?" he half-chastizes as he leans to pick up his staff again.     He straightens to notice Kord sitting down, and offers a nod of greeting, with an easy smile. "Greetings," he offers calmly. Nope, he wasn't just near startled the life out of by fox. Nope, not him! See? Completely calm. He also notes Flint's group, and raises his hand to wave in greeting to them all, with a pleasant smile.     Tomoe's words to him draw his attention to her, and he smiles. "I understand it's been some time since this place had a play. Might as well come into it looking important, I don't want them to think it's been for nothing," he reasons. Maybe the actors will feel like they're performing for someone super-important! And he kind of is, even if not to this place.     Dorian's not fluent in Greek, unfortunately. If it had been Latin, he might have been able to muddle through. But the glyphs don't 'feel' malicious, so there's that. He also doesn't have much context in regards to the Mask Merchant. The cart of puppets seems strange, but again, not malicious.     When the figure takes the stage, Dorian looks that way, and listens. He still has no context, but at least he knows what to expect, sort of. As the figure leaves the stage, he settles in his seat, figuring the play will start soon, and remains quiet. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "Eheheheheheheheheheheheh!" The fox chitter-laughs. In a strange motion of curling about, Finna melts outwards, fur receding in favor of normal leather-clad flesh. Soon it's just a young woman of tribal attire, with fox ears and a still-wagging tail seated in next to Dorian. And giving both Kord AND Captain Flint a big and brilliant grin full of youthful zest!     But her attention shifts briefly to the Gotten-used-to-it-Creepy that is Kushiko's Warframe... crosses past Tomoe... and fixes her attention quickly on the announcer.     Her eyes go very wide at the mention of 'how the Moon came to be in Lumiere'.     Finna ABRUBTLY calms, stuffing both hands in her lap!     "Who knew the dead could put on plays?" She softly muses to her fellows. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord uncomfortably adjusts himself in his seat and looks over toward Dorian in silent distraction, nodding in reply to him. He notes the two relatively ordinary men as they arrive, as they stand out very well among the dead that populate Tacet Sanctos. He momentarily squints, trying to remember who they are, but he's distracted by the commencing of the show. Or at least the announcement of what the Troupe's show will be. He fixates his eyes right on the stage.     "Warding," he mumbles aloud, as if surprised by the presence of them. They're prevalent where he's from, and their benefits are easy for him to read. They're meant to keep this from attracting the attention of the Unlit, the monsters outside the bounds of this settlement. He doesn't know Greek, though. He only recognizes the way they're arranged, though, and that they're magical.     He leans to the side and wonders to Dorian, "I don't remember seeing you in Lumiere much. Are you planning on lending your magic to our work here again?" He keeps his voice low to be polite, but there's only so much he can do with his Romanian-alike baritone voice. Imposing just seems to be his default setting when he's not skulking around instead. "Your magic was useful before, and we will need it frequently as we investigate this place." 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' "What's that say?" Silver points to the glyphs.      "I don't know," admits Flint with a shrug. Most of his education was in English. "Something about protection." But... he does have a passing familiarity.      "Wait, you can actually read that?"      "Ssh. The play's starting," chides the captain, in a lower tone of voice.      This gets an incredulous smirk from Silver. Apparently, this is a side of Flint he's never seen before. He does, at least, comply with Flint's wishes, keeping his voice down to a hushed almost-whisper. "Do you know them?" he asks, gesturing to the Elites in the audience.      The captain points them out with nods, as it's rude to point with one's fingers in many cultures. "The shapeshifter is Finna, probably invited her due to her own ties with the moon of her world. You'd know her as Clara."      "The vanguard that sailed with us?" asks the younger pirate.      Flint nods. "The rich one's Dorian." Silver's been a pirate for long enough to know which one Flint's referring to. "He's a mage from a very... controversial country. I wanted him in the crow's nest, but he's got no stomach for sailing." Flint strokes his mustache, nodding to Tomoe. "Tomoe, the Iron Lily," he says, providing a name to Silver. "She worked with us in the Painted World."      Silver gives the captain an expectant look when no explanation comes regarding Tomoe. Rather than attempt explaining the concept of the Internet, MMOs, and virtual reality to a fellow member of the 18th century, Flint just continues. "That mechanical figure might be one of Kushiko's... apparatuses," he says of the nearby warframe. "But I don't have the discerning eye required to notice design similarities between her technology. It could be anyone."      "And him?" Silver refers to the last figure, the tall, red-headed man.      Flint shrugs. "We've not met," he says. "Does it matter?"      Silver raises his eyebrows. "I suppose it doesn't," the pirate admits. "It's just easier justify what you do when we /know/ what you're doing."      "And who is 'we?'" This question is asked facing straight forward, awaiting the start of the play. It garners no answer from Silver. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe was just chilling out now ready to enjoy the play and just see what it's about as she knows a bit about this world but every time she comes here she learns something more she'll listen as the play is introduced and she wondered? With how all things that died in this world? Would lost works of art end up here? Likely it was so given the library she had to visit some time ago. She listens clearly interested to see where this story will go and she does also take note of Kushiko now as she realizes the name of the troupe seem to work doubly so for her warframe was one she didn't know. It could possibly be another Tenno as well. Either way she would find out after the play was over, and she gives FLint a bit of a look over along with his crew. "I suspect that's an understatement Doiran, we'll just have to wait and see and it's good they do have the chance to put on a show." She could get how having something to do could be of imporance to those who have been stuck in this broken land of the dead for so long. She also gives Finna a bit of a grin. "They still have spirit, Finna." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     There are some things that have been totally absent from Lumiere for quite some time. Others that have been here in paranthetical or analogous form, or in only small quantities or limited frequency. Then there are those that have simply not been encountered at all since the first day of exploration, and seem to be so out of place, as to be alien.     One of those begins now. Its very mundanity, its simplicity, its commonality and familiarity outside of Lumiere, clashing with its seeming nature so utterly, makes it jarring and strange.     That alien thing?     Music.     The simple sound of a tambourine being shaken is enough to make the warrior Lanterns turn their gazes calculatingly towards the source and move from idle positions to standing-calmly-but-ready. The civilian Lanterns are either absorbed in what's going on or looking in confusion and/or wonder, listening pensively to something so completely new. For many of these beings, music has never existed for them since the moment they came to be. If they have any recollection of the sound of a melody from the peopl they once devoured, it does not appear to confer sufficiently familiarity not to be enthralled by it.     The jangling of the tambourine is soon accompanied by the deep sound of hide-covered drums. Thudding slowly, at a measured pace, before switching to a brief series of such on multiple instruments. Thump. Thump. Thump-Thud-Thump-Bump.     The blue-black flamed candles seem to push out all other light sources, the world around them, darkening the environment within the runes like theater lights going down.     At the same time, a faint ambience seems to grow in response, coming up from the stage itself. The curtains pull aside slowly, jerkily, as someone out of sight works the ropes and cords, to reveal the silhouette of many buildings, with windows illuminated from behind by dozens of flickering candles, and a blank sky the same blue-black shade as the candles.     "Once," the woman's voice from before begins, seeming to come from just 'around' rather than any specific place, utilizing the accoustics of all the empty buildings and the open space in much the same way an actual theater might. "Lumiere was not ruined as it is now. Ancient records tell us that people walked the streets without fear of attack, that friends and families stayed together or formed anew with strange new souls as the Living expired or the Dead moved on. And there was a small Power that watched this cycle with her single eye, unseen, unheard, but wanting to help. She was always alone, this Power, always moving from place to place, and seeing what others possessed. But there was nothing she could do."     As the voice speaks, figures all in black to render them silhouettes wander out onto the stage, acting out what is described. And a grayish-white sheet with some small form under it crawls and slithers among them, unobserved, a single eye hole cut out in the fabric. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Of course it would be Finna. Dorian sends Finna a look that might be disapproval, but it's tempered with mirth, and he's got a smile on his face. "You do delight in these little strains on people's blood pressure, don't you?" he asks, still mock-glaring. Yes, he's teasing her. Kord's question draws his attention to the imposing man, and he nods. "I can certainly try. I've grown more skilled with my necromancy since then, so I should be of more assistance in the future."     He notices Flint's glance to him, and offers an additional nod here, both to Flint and to Silver, who he doesn't remember meeting. He may not realize he's being introduced, if there's enough distance that he can't hear Flint. Gosh darn human-level senses.     Dorian nods to Tomoe's words as well, and reples quietly, "Perhaps, through culture, they'll be able to reclaim the world that was lost. Or make a new one so that the old doesn't matter so much."     And there's the lights going down. The blue-black flames are interesting enough to draw Dorian's attention for a moment before his gaze returns to the stage as the woman begins to speak and the figures appear. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord stiffens, visibly, when he hears music. His breath sucks in through his nose. He was not expecting it, not in this dead place, and it seems to draw him from his boredom into a look of intense interest, his hands falling to rest on his legs. The change in light makes his inhuman eyes a bit easier to see by contrast, just as they stand out in the dark of his helm. They don't reflect light so much as have a presence in the black that other eyes don't. A sign of how magical he is.     His eyes follow the one-eyed figure, fascinated.     "Is this the girl they saw?" he wonders to himself... because he has never observed her, himself, and this depiction could just be what those that can't see her think she looks like. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Every so often, perhaps purposefully only when Dorian might be looking over, the cloak-like syandana of hers flutters slightly. Surely it's probably just some ambient breeze that's here. Nothing insidious at all! ... but in the realm of looking excellent, it does help out there! After all, when it comes to the runes and other words, while she /could/ get them analyzed, it's not in her care to do so. Still, she logs them internally for review later. It's kind of nice, the way her Warframes /would/ record all visual and audio information. With a combination of Kord and Flint giving confirmation to what those glyphs were, it sets that question at ease of being answered. Speaking of answering things, when it comes to the brief bit of attention given her way, she inclines her head, <"Evening, Captain Flint. Good to see you too, Tomoe. This one isn't one I bring out very often."> she offers by way of something more politely mature, her voice 'reaching' from where she's meditatively seated. It's hard to say /exactly/ where she's looking, though the motion of her head in that general direction is helpful enough at least. Nonetheless, the start of the play itself seems to make that head cant slightly. It's an unusual thing, of this she has no doubt, but the contextual significance isn't settling into her like it has for others. Her fingers lightly tap against her palms as she follows that alien pattern before quietly just, well. Watching. And wondering to herself if what they're about to see might reflect something they've not quite got the pieces of. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe says "Or help to keep a level of sanity." She quiets up as the play gets stasrted, and she now watches iwth intrest. The music was simple but it was something until now Tomoe had never heard on this world before. Ah so it is Kushiko, just that it's a frame she does not use very often. She replies back "I should not be shocked you had more frames, my friend." She'll turn her attention back to the play for the moment. 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' Flint, too, seems very interested with this development--though it's not the music that garners his attention, but the presentation. He's seated in a salvaged desk from a school, which allows him the opportunity to rest his elbow upon the surface, and his chin upon his hand. The captain leans forward. It's vaguely similar to Classical Greek performance art, though the masks would've been larger in such a performance.      Another alien thing here, to those that know the captain, is that he's genuinely smiling. Not widely, but enough to be intent that he is, in fact, enjoying this and interested. It's something that hasn't come naturally to him in several months. His attention is momentarily drawn away from the stage, and he gives Kushiko and Dorian a muted "Good evening."      "Why the masks?" asks Silver.      "I imagine they're the chorus," replies Flint, eyes still on the stage. "If this is the sort of theatre I think it is."      "They're not doing a very good job singing," Silver mutters dryly.      The captain shakes his head. "Not that kind of chorus." The gybe does momentarily turn his smile into a smirk, though. "The emphasis in these types of plays is on the character, not the actor's portrayal thereof. Perhaps we'll see different masks being used for different characters."      Silver is satisfied with that explanation, though his attention is split between watching the play and sneaking peeks at Finna, trying to discern the similarities between her and the identity she assumed when sailing with the Walrus. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "Always!" Finna grins over at Dorian. She flutters her eyes innocently at him, and... quickly returns Kord's peering, if a bit belatedly. It's Flint and his crew's appearance that has her the most stupified though. She wasn't expecting to see them about in a place like this. "... Getting out and about in the Multiverse, aren't you, Captain? This forsaken realm's no place for mortals... don't let down your guard too much! Even my protection's only worth so much down here."     She aims his way a bit fussily... and quickly turns back to listen to the music and mull over the story! 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     "As none could interact with her, none knew her name. During her wanderings, she saw many good people, but she also saw many bad. She wondered why some people felt the need to be bad instead of good. And she wondered why others felt the need to be good instead of bad. What decided whether one helped a stranger or spurned them? What motivated a family brought together again in death to stay together instead of split apart?"     The sheet-covered lump tilts to the side in thought, as lovers embrace, and parents stand with their children, and others argue silently, and others act out a battle with knives, as a regal-statured individual simply walks by uncaring.     "She did not understand. But then a heroine appeared."     The silhouettes all pause in the actions to turn to the left of the stage, where a young woman, perhaps in her mid-teens based on her build, in red silk and polished-but-dented brass armor emerges. The shocking of vibrancy afforded by clean metal in this place of decay, of fabric that is not red due to being stained with blood but from ancient dyes, pales next to the red hair. Likely a wig, it is still of such bright color as to make the dull-hued surroundings look almost invisible by comparison. The wig lies over a featureless, faceless white mask, and the young woman has a prop sword in a makeshift sheathe at her side.     The ambient lighting effect seems to move to and track the heroine as advances across the stage, striding purposefully but slowly as all turn to look at her, the shape under the sheet as well.     The musical instruments of changed to the tingling of chimes and a flute playing long, slow, high notes in no particular sequence, like someone testing how to use it for the first time.     "Wherever the heroine went, people stood in awe. Whenever she spoke, people listened. When she saw inequality and conflict, she stepped in."     A separate ambient glow, red in hue, appears beneath and around the two shapes previously knife fighting, now locked in a grapple with each other. As 'the heroine' moves towards them, she puts a hand on each of their arms. They continue struggling for only a moment as they look back and forth between each other and the new comer. And then, without an audible word shared, they simply seem to accept the unspoken message to stop.     "'Why do you fight?' the heroine asked." the narrator says as the three figures separate.     The same person, inflecting differently to denote a different voice, says for the two foes, "'There is room enough in this man's home for many, but he insists that only he may live there. I am without a space to call my own.'" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The heroine turns to the other figure, and the narrator speaks for her once more. "'Why will you not permit this man a place in your home?'"     "'I can not feel comfort in the presence of others. They have always mocked and looked down upon me. I only feel safe when I am alone. I had to search and fight to obtain and hold this humble building for myself. I do not wish to share it.'"     "'And why must you two come to blows instead of each having a home of your own?'"     The two men then said together, "'The nobles hold control of all the homes, and decide who may own one and who may not.'"     The heroine strokes her mask's chin in thought.     "She might have admonished the first man for encroaching upon the sanctity of another's home. She might have lectured the latter on the virtues of yielding to one in need when one can afford to do so. Instead, she turned to a passing man who simply stood and watched, in finery and prestige."     "'Are you of the nobility?'"     "The noble, defensiveness outweighing his awe of the heroine, responded with disdain, 'Of course! Can you not see by my attire and my countenance?'"     "'Why would you deny these men, or any others, a place to call home?' the heroine asked, remarking not upon the man's supposedly evident noble features."     "'I have earned my position through many thousands of years of service. I am qualified to preside over such decisions. If they wish to have homes of their own, they must earn them as I have!'"     "The heroine did not appear impressed. But the small Power was fascinated by this development. By someone who did not simply choose to be good or bad, but questioned why others were, as she did. She waited to see how it would all end." 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Any other things she might say--or do--in regards to the others is effectively stilled for now. Given her little meditative float and 'seat' as it were, it's pretty easy for her to remain focused on the play. The story itself does pique her interest, and calls back to something /she's/ seen of nobility, as it were. The Orokin. Selfish. Greedy. Still, without a face, she scarcely betrays these inward thoughts for the time being, but despite this seems... more raptly attentive than one would give credit for appearing to be. Hm. 

:'''{{#var:1067|Captain Flint (1067)}} has posed:''' "Somehow, I manage," says the captain with of surviving without Finna's protection.      The heroine's actions have Flint even more interested. If this story is going where he thinks it's going, it's a play that needs to make it to his Earth, somehow. Silver and Flint share a look--Flint grins, gesturing to the stage with a vague hand motion before returning his attention there.      Silver sighs. "Are you going to make this about communism?"      "It already is. At least, this part is. The noble is passing off inherited wealth as labor so the commoners and the heroine don't realize he's just stealing the rewards of their labor."      "That's an... interesting interpretation," says Silver.      "What do you think is happening?" asks Flint.      "I guess I could see it that way. I think the focus is more on the heroine being circumspect, like the Power is. That's going to allow her to avoid the pitfalls the noble and the commoners fall into." 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' The actors are putting on a pretty good show and she's clearly enjoying it live theater was not as common a thing as it used to be. Then again before the change to her world? There had been some troupe using the tech behind the world seed for an form of live action theater. She watched with an interest, she notes Flint and his crew are talking about the play. She thinks about it a bit and she cna just think about the rich and powerful at least before the unfication the old money. The fark you I got mine sorts but that certainly has been turned on their head with multiverse barfing. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "Seize what you can hold in life. If the impoverished want something, they need to rise up and take it by force. They're not owed it. Nor has anyone earned it. If you can take it, you have it. Simple as that." Finna states a little grouchily.     "... But I wonder what the answer is here." Finna goes on to say, shifting a little forward in her seat. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Some of this starts to ring a little closer to Dorian's home than he'd probably admit openly. Well, no, he wouldn't be shy in admitting it, he often does -- the gap between the 'haves' and the 'have-nots' in Tevinter is so wide one could use it as a moat to defend a sizeable fortress against unwanted intrusion.     He too is interested in the answer to the quandry here. Maybe it'll give him some answers to the problems there. Or at least some direction. He /is/ trying to avoid having to essentially fire at the place from another country. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     "'If one must do as you have to deserve a home,' the heroine declared. 'Then you will instruct this man who prefers to be alone in how to be as noble as you are. You will use your influence and wealth to elevate him, and find him a place in your home, and until you have done so, you shall live among those you consider beneath your station, and learn again what it is to be humble.'"     The heroine turns back to the man who could not stand to share the company of others. "'You will earn the respect of the nobility by facing them on their terms, and be treated appropriately. But you must use what you learn to affect change. And you must use your experiences and struggles in finding a home to make it easier for others to gain the same when you have the means. When you have facilitated this, you may dwell by yourself as you please.'"     Finally, the heroine turns to the third man, who wanted a place in another's home and tried to force it upon him. "'You will live in this home, but each day, you will go out and find others in need, and you will bring them into your home, until it is full. Then you will instruct the others to do the same, and go out and find a new house that is empty, and make it your home. If you can not find one that is unused in all the vastness of Lostrata, you shall build one, and encourage others to do the same. You will repeat this until all who are in need of homes have them. When you have helped all others before you, you can rest knowing you have not taken but have earned."     The three men have all moved together on one side as the heroine spoke to them, driving them back with her demands even as she stands still, as though each new imperative was a blow that they must step back from to avoid being struck by. "The three men were appalled. And, as one, they uttered the same objection. 'Why should we do as you command!?'" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The chimes and flute die abruptly, the red glow about the men shifts to a dark blue, and the red seems to gather around the heroine, glowing brighter and brighter, and glaring off her armor, as drums beat rapidly and someone shakes sheets of metal unseen to produce the sound of thunder.     "'Because', spoke he heroine, 'I am not giving you a choice.'"     The heroine draws her prop sword, the act causing sparks to fly, perhaps from some sort of sharpening sheathe or small fireworks. As she raises the sword above her head, the blue-back sky in the background shifts to shades of wavering red and yellow, to emulate fire.     "The three men, cowed by the heroine's sword of flame, yet protested. 'You are a tyrant, wielding your power to force change according to your own ideals!'"     The heroine sheathes her sword, and the thundering and flame background recede back to how they were before.     "'Yes,' the heroine agreed. 'To be a true hero, one must be willing to trample the dreams of those one opposes. In that sense, tyranny is at the very core of what it means to be a hero.'"     The three men bow in surrender and move backwards, retreating off stage, as the others around likewise scatter.     "The small Power saw something she had never considered before. That the reasons for being good or bad were less important than being willing and able to change the bad to the good, even if against their individual wills."     The three figures from before emerge again. The noble, without as much finery or baubles walking alongside the man who prefers to be alone, dressed in a similar manner, as they seem to be discussing how best to change the nobility's system, the man without a home, waving to silhouettes that file out in smiling masks, young and old alike, who wave to him in turn, and then returns to his labor. In the background, one of the buildings is outlined in white, revealing it to be some of temple or church.     The heroine works alongside him, carrying a heavy burden in the form of a large black box (probably empty) over her head and setting it down for him.     "And for a time, the lot of the Dead of Lostrata improved. And the small Power wondered if there was something she could do as well."     All the figures then bow out as the lights dim upon the stage, signifying the end of the first act. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' A turn of events that she was not expecting. Finna makes a soft little gasp and blinks a few times. "Wait, what...?"     She cants her head to the side, puzzling over the implications of the heroine's actions... it sure was NOT how she expected things would go....     "... Throw everyone's face into the grinder where they lacked, huh... I guess that's fitting...." 
}}

5587/WANTED: The Conductor (2)

2018-02-02T04:29:36Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/11/27 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=The Conductor appears. |Cast of Characters=974, 513, 6, 954, 1100, 42 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Poses=:'''{{#v..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/11/27
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=The Conductor appears.
|Cast of Characters=974, 513, 6, 954, 1100, 42
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Many of those here have been here before. They have journeyed to the Cavern of Death in the Four Caverns area, found the mound of bones surrounding a deep, dark pit, and taken the plunge through an endless expanse of black, falling for an interminable amount of time, but then magically alighting gently upon a vast plane of black marble -- featureless aside two pairs of great stone gates (one set gray, the other red). Those newer will get to experience that disorienting, confusing, frightening arrival for the first time, join up with others coming here, and receive any necessary explanations for the task that is to be performed: A call from locals of the Land of the Dead, to deal with a fiend that torments them.     Those attuned to the element of Earth are likely to notice immediately that it is absent here. It is not that this is a place that does not use such an Element in its metaphysical framework, simply that it is WAS here and is now GONE.     Those without such a connection remain oblivious.     But they have much more to be kept apprised of.     During a previous expedition in Lumiere, an out of control subway tram in the train tunnels of Barrowville was stopped, its perpetually-burning cargo of trapped souls freed, and it was rendered safe for use. This, in turn, lead to the discovery of a central transit station for such underworld trams, and the place where the newly-Dead once used to arrive in Lumiere.     Also, the train drew the attention of a large number of Unlit -- the near-mindless creatures, somehow both lesser and greater than beasts, who operate not upon instinct but upon compulsion, to seek out the souls of others and consume them, whether by eating their bodies or simply by slaying them and then devouring what is released.     But now Final Destination, and these labyrinthine tunnels, are reportedly mysteriously free of those Unlit. Or at least, no one else has run into them yet. And more mysteriously, the figure said to be responsible for the malfunctioning, soul-burning train in the first place, 'the Conductor', is still on the loose, as trains begin to move on their own, gradually leaving the platforms and stations they have sat unattended at for so long, and heading deeper into the Umberdark Tunnels. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     New arrivals are unlikely to know the difference between this version of the Umberdark Tunnels and prior ones. They are unlikely to understand the significance of ancient tunnels in the land of the dead that have undergone a transformation from a near-lightless catacombs with creepy tunnels that issued strange sounds, to the almost charming locale that a little glowing shrine desposits them within. The mighty support pillars lining the platform, the brick walls beginning flat and straight but arching upwards into a vaulted ceiling, the clean-swept concrete beneath their feet, the clear and distinct moon imagery stylized upon almost every surface in crescent-shapes, and -- wonder of wonders -- electric lamps housed in ornate box-lanterns hanging from the walls, from hooks protruding from the columns, and from the ceiling of the tunnel itself.     Light. Electricity. Signs of repair, or of regression to a state before the ravages of age and violence and supernatural decay.     This is not the Lumiere old-hands are accustomed to. Lumiere has never before looked so friendly and welcoming.     And look, just as they arrive, the sound of a magic-powered train echoes up the tunnel, humming on rune-covered rails, before coasting smoothly and quietly to a stop in front of them.     Did they arrive in some other Lumiere somehow? Is this another vision of the past, such as has been experienced in Escher, or during the events of the past two Halloweens?     There are many questions. But the task before them remains the same: There is someone causing trouble, and he, she, or it, must be dealt with. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' As usual, Finna arrives in Lumiere in her snow fox form. Why she seems to prefer moving about as the humble creature - currently sporting a sleek, grey-black summer coat instead of the fluffy white fur - is something someone might just have to ask her.     But she paces lightly around the Shrine of Light in the Umberdark, waiting for the others to arrive after she did. But those who were already here she was quite willing to trot up to and give a big happy panting-fox look. Her tail's wagging much like a dog's too. The little vixen's in a good mood tonight!     And after much sniffing around... she finally shifts back to human, leaning against one of the walls, arms folded. A mood shift to glum and suspicious, by a glance at her face. Her brow's furrowed into something of a scowl.     "... Place is clean. Too clean." 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' The party had been hunting this being before nd tomoe was here, she was quite ready to end this she'd seen the souls put into the train used as fuel and tormented fror likely longer than her world had life upon it. She frowned a bit thishad to end this had to be set right. and he would be moving ahead wonding if it would be best The Slamander noticed signs of repairs and it makes her concerned what's going on? Is this anotehr place? A view of the past or had someone actually been restoring part of this region? "It looks like it's been repaired it wouldn't be out of place back home, but ... here? I don't like this." 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord was already on edge. The being that was responsible for the bizarre corruption of the trains had been absent ever since their encounter with the burning train from before. They had stopped it only to realize their prey had long since fled, somehow evading their notice in the chaos. Freeing all of the beings within the train came up with no clues but freshly charred, traumatized souls that had to be brought back to shelter before something else got ahold of them.     Kord stepped up to the train that stopped before them, and he stepped onto it. He would use it to locate the Conductor, or the Conductor would attempt to attack him while he was on it, and he would slay it. And that was that.     The more clean state of the Umberdark Tunnels he chalked up to actual progress in undoing the rot that pervaded all of Lumiere up until they arrived. It is a spiritual location, and so active attempts to fix it and bring it back to its former glory were bound to have a palpable effect on the environment. So... he didn't feel uncomfortable about the change at all.     That might've been a mistake. 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne Mace (1100)}} has posed:''' Leyanne Mace has once again BASE-jumped into Lumiere, arriving with the assitance of gravity. Then... well, she's got to ask the locals for directions. She has only the vaguest idea of what's going on with this subway. She spots Kord and gives him a wave, looking over at Tomoe and Finna. "Too clean?" She asks, thoughtfully, flipping up the faceplate of her helmet. "Is that bad?" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     So the plan is to get on trains CONTROLLED BY a malevolent entity and hope that he chooses to bring them to him for a straightforward bossfight instead of just running the train off a bridge in a lava cavern or something.     It's damn near crazy and suicidal.     Staren arrives in different armor than he's usually seen in -- but still familair to most who know him as indicating he's in his robot body at the moment.     As he reaches the train station, he sets down one of his tablets a little out of the way, as well as a radio relay. He's brought a gun that can just shoot little relays into the rock of the tunnel as they pass.     The change to the tunnels doesn't really bother him. Honestly he can't keep it all straight. They found one tunnel with trains, this is another tunnel with trains.     As he steps on board, anyone reading his expression through his faceplate might see some sorry. While he's reasonably confident he can escape a lot, he's uncomfortable with how much control over their environment today's opponent has.     "...I can't believe the /cleanliness/ is what's bothering you, rather than that we're getting on a train controlled by someone we came here to kill and we know nothing about what else is in these caverns." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Once everyone is aboard the train, the only one definitively (hopefully) reclaimed for safe use so far, due to the repair (or reversal) of what was done to it, it does nothing until operated. From the last time it was used, the operating method should be known. Grab the metal thingy in the control booth, squeeze to go fast/faster, hold loosely to go slow/slow down, let go to stop. Focus on the direction you want to go or destination in order to change tracks.     It works the same here the moment someone chooses to do so. As they pass through the enormous tunnel that opens up into an even bigger tunnel, various tracks start running parallel. Before they passed by many other boarding/deboarding platforms, some of them with Lanterns, some with Unlit, some with... Other things. Many just completely empty. The other platforms were darkened, for the most part, just as the one they reached via stairs leading down from City Limits was when they first entered it and found themselves facing a temporal anomaly of some kind where their past selves, slightly out of joint with their current time began to interact with each other, causing the separation of time to eventually collapse.     Then, they killed a Shrine Mimic -- a monster masquerading as one of the transport mechanisms of Lumiere -- which in turn wound up being the basis of an improvised summoning device they used later to help fight the first Marble Guardian. After all that has happened in the scarce two years since Lumiere has been part of the Multiverse, the veterans may feel as if that was forever ago.     For those so accustomed to Lumiere that tiny changes are readily noticeable, while the familiar darkness and horror has practically become normalized, the sheer alieness of the subway train they are on probably doesn't penetrate anymore. For the newer, the very light-framed, streamlined row of cars with crystal-paned doors and windows, carved from some unidentifiable metal or stone or maybe well-chiseled and smoothed bone, may feel terrifyingly open and exposed as it flies down the tunnel, no heavy machinery to weigh it down, no seating, but somehow the speed they are moving at not affecting the interior at all.     They can tell they're moving very fast, but there's little to no accompanying sensation. Just the jerking high-speed almost nightmare-like movements of something that should honestly not be working this way, but somehow is. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The previously seen platforms flash by, mere blinks of the eye and gaps for the wind of their movement to make hollow noises into. No sign of the hordes that had swarmed after the others here in the past. As they pass by Final Destination, the massive central hub where millions of newly dead souls could arrive at a time and then stand in lines or mill around waiting their turn to be logged, given a new name, and directed on their way out to start the process of reincarnation, it should be clear to anyone that Final Destination is not THEIR destination.     This train, like others that start moving alongside of them, empty of passengers, are going somewhere else. The well-lit tunnels that had shown signs of repair start to be replaced by darkened and ruined ones, sparking with green lightning from dangling cords, and cables like bio-mechanical veins along the walls. Glimpses of things in the dark provide any relief at the lack of Unlit a kick in the gut, but ahead of them, on the tracks, somehow maintaining its relative position with them no matter how the train moves, the silhouette of a figure in a cap and uniform can be seen, but only in those moments where there's no lightning. Just floating there in the dark, head down, hands clutched like claws at its sides.     With each series of ceiling lights they pass under, the figure moves closer to the front of their train, while still matching their speed. Eventually, they pass through a long section of tunnel with no lights aside from the faint glow of runes along the tracks the give a pale-blue radiance to the train interior.     When they next enter an area with lights, a man is standing on the train with them, in the same position, grinning a wide, mirthless, slasher grin. His eyes still unseen in the shadows of his cap. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord starts the train. He simply approaches the controls and begins their progress through the tunnels. He makes no sounds but to calmly breathe as he watches horrors and clean stations pass by them on either side. He keeps it fast enough that nothing can simply grab ahold of them, and he keeps himself calm. He is quite used to this by now.     It's when the silhouette appears that he tenses visibly. Its nature is clear. It's a creature that exists beyond the logic of the beasts they've run into thusfar. He dips his head and peers at the figure as it gets steadily closer, and judges how many jumps it will take to enter the train. He waits for a prime moment to attack, and he simply turns to lash out at the Conductor the moment he manifests within the train itself. His claws go out to grab the man by the face without a word or hesitation, and he tries to slam him right into one of the walls of the train with enough force to crush a man's skull or bend the strange supernatural material holding the train car together.     Kord doesn't do negotiation with Unlit, clearly. 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne Mace (1100)}} has posed:''' Leyanne Mace looks around uneasily as the train moves, although she stays calm. This is the Multiverse, and shit gets weird here. Lumiere's a world of the Dead, after all, it's bound to be a bit... morbid. "If I see Manuel Calaveras I'm gonna scream." She comments off-handedly into the darkness. And the light comes back and the conductor is stood there, grinning. Before she can even consciously process his presence her left hand is already in motion, smoothly drawing the big-bore revolver off her thigh and aiming it squarely at the side of the Conductor's head. She pauses, opening her mouth to ask if she should fire or apologise, when Kord slams into the dude. "Phobos!" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren moves between the cars (unless the windows can be opened) to periodically shoot radio repeaters into the tunnel walls. Because of this, he's not really looking ahead. Just nervously waiting...     Until suddenly the Conductor is inside, and Kord is fighting him.     This... isn't what he expected at all, honestly. He figured there'd be some kind of giant boss chamber, perhaps with a bunch of tracks going through it and the Conductor controlling trains to try and smash into them or something. You know, on the slim chance they weren't diverted to some kind of death tunnel.     Which is still a possibility as long as the train is moving. Maybe someone should stop it?     Staren's first reaction is to try and help fight, though: He drops the repeater gun in the car and pulls the laser rifle from his back, trying to get a clear shot at the conductor without hitting Kord. Hopefully the train car won't be too damaged if he misses.     If he can't get a steady shot, though, then he'll head to the controls. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe is on the train now and well she's not sure what horror to run into now, she's long got the idea she's in over her head agian. Still she can't just run away at this point? Whose even going to try to fix things here if she bails? Those who remain would still need help, right? So here they go as they take anotehr ride. She expects the dead her but this time it's Ghosts? That's not something that's so common here for her. She will follow Staren up to fgive him cover though as she gets out his laser rifle at the conductor and she makes a rush for him as well drawing her sword as she does so. This may not be the best idea. "YOU!" 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna hops on the train, but she's HOLDING ON TIGHT this time. She's PRETTY JUMPY around it as she gets on, and hangs on to WHATEVER solid there is to grab onto - seats, poles, whatever.     She doesn't trust the dang thing, no matter what, and ALL of her hair's standing on end, beads of perspiration rolling over her brow...     But she's got her eyes glued to the windows, and occasionally sweeping around... but out the FRONT windows...     An almost feline hiss of displeasure at THAT development has her backing away from the widow...     Unlike Kord, she does't go RIGHT for violence, but she DOES draw her bow and an arrow from seemingly NOWHERE.     Testingly, she attempts to MIMIC the man's incredibly disturbing grin, showing an improbably wide smile full of sharp carnivorous teeth right back at him! Wait what how did she?     "Like the grin. Tricky oe to pull off!" She exclaims, as if admiring the man's expression or attitude - or just trying to mock him and unsettle him, perhaps force him to change gears or rethink... whatever he's thinking.     Psychological warfare, yeah. It helps.     Then Kord goes BALLISTIC on the Conductor and Finna panics. She's seen how some of her allies fight. She knows how she herself fights. "Can't break the only vehicle we've got! Don't use any big boom stuff in here! Small weapons! Stop us somewhere safe and knock him out!"     Finna backflips a few times and raises her bow, taking careful aim...     Fires off a beastly little arrow that screams through the air, trailing silvery motes of light. It's subtle, but this thing will BURY itself in with a beastly twist and try to ravage vitals. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Kord strikes with superhuman speed and strength. Staren takes careful aim to avoid hitting Kord and fires. Finna shoots as well, aiming for localized damage rather than widespread. Tomoe backs Kord up, aiming to use her strength and melee skill to take on the enemy at close range.     They all hit nothing. Because there is no one there. Some people may have to dodge their ally's fire if they're able to react in time, but for the most part they aimed with a mind for not hitting the people in melee range that all that really happens is their attacks may richocet off the walls or smash a crystal-paned window (which, yes, open. Though the nullification of the sensation of speed inside does not appear to translate to the immediate exterior).     Just being able to smash and shoot a ghost would have been too easy for Lumiere. Especially a ghost that has existed this long and accumulated enough power.     Even the fact that multiple people perceived and responded to him doesn't rule out the possibility of hallucinations, but it's more likely that the Conductor is screwing with them. Psychological warfare indeed.     Then the ground, the floor of the tunnel, is gone. Their train is falling through empty space, plummeting towards a ruined city that has somehow appeared below them. Tall buildings, houses, businesses, all overrun with train tracks. Tracks going over buildings, through skyscrapers, cutting homes in half, going down into large bodies of water, and other bizarre configurations. Trains of all description, from old coal-burning ones to electric to mag-lev to the rune-driven subway trains like the ones they're on, can be seen going on the same routes, the same loops, or even just going back and forth endless on sections of track cut off on both ends from any destination.     A bullet train shoots through a huge hole that has been punched through a skyscraper in order for tracks to be laid. There is also a massive central station winding its way up some other giant building, repurposed for the Conductor's use. Microphones, levers, switches, booths, and big glowing screens floating in the air showing a chaotic jumble of routes and train positions surround it.     The Conductor's voice comes screeching over intercoms scattered throughout the ravaged city, still burning in some places.     "THIS IS YOUR LAST STOP!"     The man himself can be made out as a tiny humanoid silhouette against the light of one of the big glowing screens, a hand pressed to the cracked glass of his booth. Details are hard to make out, but he is probably grinning as he announces into a hand speaker, "NO GODS, NO KINGS, ONLY TRAINS!" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The train crashes down on one of the tracks safely, somehow. And now Staren's expectations can be fulfilled in the worst way possible.             EMBODIED WISH FORGED IN MADNESS (Power: Chaos)                 THE CONDUCTOR     The track they have landed on is on top of a building. There's a rather large black train pouring flames its smoke stack coming up the ramped rails behind them. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     IT WAS AN ILLUSION THAT JERK     And then they're falling. Now THIS is what Staren expected. They're probably hurtling towards lava or something. He hurries to a door-- and it's locked. He hurries to a window... and can see that, below is... 'or something'. A... ruined city? Full of trains. Ah, yes, the train boss arena hypothesis. Less likely than instant death, but still expected.     This body will probably survive a crash. He braces for impact...     And the train seems to land okay, somehow.     This just means the Conductor is confident he can kill them in other ways.     The door are open. Staren hurries out, taking to the air. Trying to get a view of the area, watching for angles of attack. He doesn't assume he's safe in the air, but at least he's not CONFINED and should have room to dodge. Other trains could fall from above, or hell, maybe go flying off one of those ramps.     Now, the conductor APPEARS to be in the booth, and Staren could attack it... but once he's played a card, the conductor will know, and he won't be able to use it again. Hetaren decides the most straightforward action is to play a card already played, and see if the booth is an illusion too: He fires his laser rifle at it. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord didn't expect him to simply vanish. And there they are, plummeting down into the dark in a train, the only train they managed to wrest from the horrific apparition's control, while he weaves out of the way and tries not to get stabbed or shot. The train slams into the tracks atop a building, and it's an immediate and incredible shock that they didn't all slam into the ceiling from the sudden stop. Kord is crouched like an antagonized animal, his tail visibly lashing behind him, eyes wild and focused on his hand, which was seconds from crushing the Unlit like an egg.     "Damnation," he hisses as the train they're on soon has another screaming toward it, billowing flames. He isn't going to wait for it to hit them. This train is the only one he knows isn't controlled directly by that man, as they've used it in the past to make their way through this realm. Kord reaches out to grab ahold of the controls, and he then looks dead ahead. Once they're going at a speed where he can react fast enough to oncoming threats, he glances over his shoulder, and does something creative.     He creates a ramp for the burning locomotive using solid shadows shaped to do so, and tries to send it flying through the air at the Conductor's booth instead. He is not skilled in redirecting enormous hulks of metal moving at lethal speeds, though.     "Open a window and shoot the demon in his face!" Kord barks to the others, as the windows have been demonstrated to be openable at the very least. 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne Mace (1100)}} has posed:''' Leyanne Mace yelps and holds on tight as the trail goes on its wild fall, holstering her pistol and grabbing onto any rails she can find, just in case there's something resembling a landing at the bottom. And there is. For that, she's grateful. The train screeches to a halt and Leyanne is half-way to the door when Kord gets the machine moving. "I hope you know what you're doing!" the mouse comments, hauling the door shut and unslinging the big rotary cannon on her back. She pushes open a window, frowning. Not the best firing position she's ever used, but not the worst, either. It takes her a moment to get a good firing angle, but when she does... "GOING LOUD!" the mouse warns, before the gatling gun in her hands lets out a flatulent blurt of firepower at the Conductor's booth. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' It was an illusion nothing of substance here but then there is. She sees the sight before her like a mad child's train set, it's everywhere. There's so many trains, so many lines i it's pretty much the idea of trains all on display now. "Did you seriously go no god no kings only trains?! Wait ..." Is he the train somehow is what they are seeing only the a projection again? She's got some ranged spells but its' not her main focus she will head for the side of the train and will either open or break it, which ever is quicker for her then she'll start to chant and golden runes dance about it. It takes a moment but the rays of light come seeking out trying to get the Conductor in his booth maybe she'll be able to at least rattle him up but she's not going to assume she can breach it at that range and with her magic stats. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Staren ditches his allies, assuming they're going to jump off a building just because he did. Ever the team player, that Staren! Thankfully, Leyanne manages to get the doors closed in time for Kord to get them going. See, the same safety precaution that keep the doors closed when it's in motion also keep it from moving when the doors are open. So for a few pulse-pounding seconds, Kord's use of the controls results in... Nothing but some synthetic, ambient voice announcing that the train can not move when passengers are boarding and deboarding.     As the flaming train about three times their size comes zipping up the side of the building like a hellish, steel-and-fire caterpillar with nitro boosters, Leyanne manages to get the doors closed again, and the train immediately takes off, following the new course that Kord set for it via ramping.     Thanks to both Staren's shot that causes a distant explosion as metal vaporized, and Leyanne's gatling gun riddling the control booth with shots, it's confirmed that it's real. As the glass splinters and shatters under the flurry, Tomoe's magic light beam streaks inside, hitting something and sending an explosion blasting out of the booth, in a rain of burning paper, broken machinery, and other miscellaneous objects.     But no body.     The Conductor appears to have run over to a different booth a bit higher up and is pulling levers, even as the train of the Elites comes flying along a high arc towards the structure. It may not be accurate, but if it hits, it will probably do some damage. And... Probably also to the people inside. Hey, wait, isn't this a really bad idea? There aren't exactly airbags in here!     Meanwhile, a section of track appears right next to Staren in the air. Then more sections appear, above and around him. They all begin falling, the metal cross-bars, the rails, the parts of train tracks, when they reach the right elevation, just falling into the correct placement at the direction of their maker, and freezing there like they had been built there all along.     Rapidly, new loops and ramps and layers of track are being added, towers of steel, roads for great machines, building up towards Staren's level supernaturally quickly. A bullet train comes shooting at Staren almost the moment there is one on the same general 'plane', already redirected from its prior tracks and coordinated so that when the new tracks were laid, and the switch flipped, it would make the sudden turn, derail, and then go flying through the air at him. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Likewise, as the subway car the rest of them are on flies towards the central station building, tracks fall into place, building on top of each other, until they land on a new set of tracks that turns them away and off in a different direction, on a loop around the exterior of the tower.     It can safely be said that the Conductor is very good at conducting.     It is also safe to say that damaging that control tower is something that works, and possibly the key to ending all this. 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne Mace (1100)}} has posed:''' Leyanne gives Kord a thumbs-up and then holds on tight with her tail, pouring as much fire into the conductor's tower as she can manage. The amount of casings she's leaving in the train are sure to become a slip hazard before long, raining down around her ankles from the cannon's ejection chute. Other than that, Leyanne keeps on the fire, getting ready to redirect towards any threats the conductor might throw at them. Surely, he's not so distracted by Staren that he's forgotten about them? She ducks involuntarily as a piece of miscelaneous trackside equipment slams into the front of the train; the severed semaphore board of a British-style signal clattering off the windowframe and then bouncing off her helmet, dangerously close to one of the mouse's antennae. "Shit!" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     The door closes behind him. "What are you DOING?!" Staren shouts as the train drives off, swiftly followed by another train.     So, there's probably nigh-infinite booths here. Destroying every single one might be possible, but will likely take forever and risk wearing them down. Could there be another way to fight...?     Now he has to deal with the 'penalty' for being out of the train though: Tracks, and a bullet train coming after him! He's... SORT OF... ready? Tracks and trains have to be near him to be a threat. He tries, at first, to keep changing position so that no tracks are pointing at him, but it's harder than it sounds as the layers of track build up in the air. He doesn't dare just fly up -- eventually, he'll run out of space and be trapped, and it will also mean losing sight of the conductor -- and being even further from his allies.     So when the bullet train approaches, he can see it coming and make sure not to be right in the way.     He doesn't actually have adrenaline or a heart, but the parts of his cyberbrain emulating such processes give him an echo of the sensation of his heart pounding as the bullet train FLIES past. One train's not too hard to dodge, but Staren can already see the potential for the conductor to have several trains swirling around him on too many courses to track. The conductor has a way to finish him, and he still doesn't know how to finish the conductor. Maybe, just maybe, Staren is at least splitting his attention somewhat.     In the moments before more trains come and he has to go completely on the defensive, he looks around desperately for something that sticks out, some clue to the way to actually hurt this boss insetad of blowing up obviously redundant towers.     He prods at that connection he once felt, too, reaching out for anything, if the mysterious computer system can help here... 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord has no empathy for those inside that train car that he just had launched toward the Conductor's tower. Its alien mechanisms and levers and machinery go blasting out of it from all the damage inflicted on the booth the Conductor was in a moment ago, but he can only glance over there for a brief moment. He growls softly to himself at the being's apparent ability to appear anywhere in the structure-- but realizes it's probably the structure itself that is the core of the creature's being when he really gets a look at the mass that makes up the control tower.     That's right. All of the powerful Unlit, without exception, have been enormous in some way. Even the Marble Guardians have been Unlit of enormous scope. At least that's consistent.     Kord points his hand out of a window he opens with some quick shadow magic, the other holding the controls at a consistent grip strength to keep them moving at a constant pace. Then he simply fires a blast of dark magic into the structure, aiming for whatever point appears to be holding it all together, below where the Conductor would be standing. It takes him a second to get a good vantage on the screaming, swerving rail path they're on, but even the Unlit have rules they follow to some degree, even the ones embodying some form of chaos.     Kord grins behind his mask, because the challenge is exhilirating. A monster stands before him and his goals, and all he has to do is find a way to kill it before it kills him. Nothing could be simpler than this primal battle of wills. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' There is no body, they didnt' get him but they did force the Conductor to move, right? That's an imporant thing they are making him react to them. Which may give them some time to act, she needs to get the hell out, but now is a hell of a bad time to do so, so she's going to hunker down for the moment and ready another spell but that will take some time she will have to wait for a good shot. In she'll just have to wait then, for a better moment but it could be worse right? 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The Conductor, whatever freakish powers he has over trains and their trappings, does not appear to have any special ability to protect against bullets. As Leyanne shoots out all the windows of the various booths they pass on this loop, the Conductor is forced to abandon his position, running from one location to another, flipping switches as he goes, trying to stay ahead of the hail of rounds destroying his base of operations.     The tracks laid to enable a train to hit Staren also prevented any trains from hitting the tower. Instead it appears to have collided with another train, sending both burning hulks toppling down in ruins to the destroyed city below.     Given the control he has over the tracks, that he would have put them down in such a way to bring the team opposing him closer, into easy firing range as they now are, and subject himself to this deadly hail, might be worrying. Why make it easier for enemies to attack him?     Staren's attempt to prod at the system in his mind results in a distinctive electronic pinging noise, and a display superimposing itself over his conciousness.     Log-In Attempt Detected. User Name and Password?     Well, he knows the name he got to use last time, but... It didn't ask for a password then, did it? What's this Solaren guy's password!?     As shadow blasts shoot into the exposed booths from Leyanne's barrage, things scatter and burst out in a wave of dark power, more wreckage, more internal damage to the structure itself, fewer places for the Conductor to hide. Then something sleek and silver and futuristic-looking comes arcing its way up over the top of the tower. It is glowing from in-built panels, seems to have some kind of repulsors or something on its underside, and... Yes. Yes, it's a flying train.     And it seems to be ignoring the placement of the tracks in order to zero in on the predictable loop of the good guys' current course. Apparently having a stable circle to bombard the tower with isn't entirely to their benefit. It also means that until they derail, they are stuck on a single path. Though with Kord's shadow manifestation, maybe he can make new tracks for them like he did the other train before.     But how long can such a chase last? Trying to redirect the train to dodge a flying one against someone who can continue to send other trains and lay new tracks of his own and is really experienced at doing so? The tower is in flames in many places now.     Will they be able to do enough damage to stop all this befoe they are outmaneuvered, one way or another? Can Staren access the Lumiere system and try to alter the situation through hacking the world? The pressure is on for all involved parties, and there is a time limit before all available space is part of the Conductor's web. 
}}

5579/Chains and Blood (Finale)

2018-02-02T04:29:04Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/11/20 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=Choices are made. Monsters are slain. And fates are woven tightly together, as the Second Marble Guardian ap..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/11/20
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=Choices are made. Monsters are slain. And fates are woven tightly together, as the Second Marble Guardian appears.
|Cast of Characters=974, 42, 1137, 954, 6, 513, 70, 964
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     What before was an aura of fear, has become something else. It is no longer merely a presence, or a matter of power. It is something physical. Waves of something not quite elemental, not quite conceptual, and definitely not magical or divine, roll through the Mausoleum in a quite tangible manner. Clouds of cold terror, needles of throat-seizing panic, blades of horror working their way up under the ribs and towards the heart, every metaphor that could be used to describe fear is now a phantasmal and yet SUBSTANTIAL force. Unlike the Aspect of Despair wielded by the Chains of the Dusk Sun, this is a power with purpose, with a hungry need to invade and consume.     It does not settle for petty manipulations, it takes itself and rams into minds and hearts, drilling deep. Or trying, at least.     A group of mercenary undead hunters faced a power like this on October 31st. Their hearts beat so fast in sheer fear that the organs burst, killing them on the spot.     That fate seems to be spared those in the dungeon, whether they be out in the corridor leading to the Marble Guardian's lair, or those who have surged ahead and found themselves standing in the vile remains of the dead, swarming above, on top, and in the crimson below, with bizarre, revolting, and well-fed insect-things.     Whether it is their own personal power, their physiology, this 'destiny' they supposedly possess, the benefits of their allies' buffering, or simply that even at this level, it is not quite as intense as the Crimson King himself, the result is the same. Though 'feeling on the verge of death, simultaneously freezing and aflame, like blood has turned to ice and skin to blaze' would be an apt description of this sensation, they are able to stand in this monster's presence. It is even less likely that they truly want to be here now than when they stood outside, discussing the matter of retreat and moving forward... Before the Marble Guardian became aware of their presence and directed its power with hostile intent.     Yet they are here.     Whatever the results of all this may be, they have made their choice.     The Balance shifts.     The Darkness grows stronger.     Moonlight grows stronger.     Law grows stronger.     Chaos grows stronger.     Purification advances a step.     The world grows more Corrupt...     Purity --------------------++++--------------------- Corruption 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark, Staren, and Kushiko are presently separated from the group, back in the corridor leading to the Marble Guardian's pit.     Kord, Finna, Asterios, Priscilla, and Carna, in more or less that order, have charged to the end of the fear-shrouded corridor, vision nearly blanked out by the blackness gathering at the corners of their vision, until they hsplash down in the disgusting blood pit, and face their foe.     Their enemy appears to be a being made of blood. Below the surface of its blood-skin face is a mask like Count Kord's, though there all resemblance ends. A shining golden grown with strange reflections of a molten red, a cruel beauty to it that makes mortal hearts ache to possess it, sits, blood-stained atop the monster's dripping brow. As it sloshes through the waist-deep pool, paying no heed to the flying and swimming and crawling bugs all around, the unseen shapes bumping into legs beneath the surface, or the wads of meat and fat floating atop, two more masks emerge from its body. These, while similar to Kord's, are not quite the same.     The throne in the back of the room, sits on a pedestral, beneath a rain of blood, and also the only light source that was already here before the new arrivals plunged in. A dim glow that is nonetheless blindingly bright compared to all the darkness everywhere else, spilling down from a grating of some kind overhead.     The blood monster does not wait for the intruders to attack, coming to them, and lashing out with a whip of crimson with a swing of its arm that draws up a length of coagulated blood from the pool around it. It is meant to sweep across all foes before it.     And all the way, physical pressure of a force will squirm its way into any wound as surgely as the blood-eating worms all around, crawl its way under the skin, and then eat them alive buffets them like an invisible gale force wind.     Maybe this is what a Marble Guardian can become if it is allowed to be filled with its Aspect if it does not have guardians to keep it locked away like the Chains of the Dusk Sun was. Even if Arthur and his knights were slain by them, the Stone Devils did an admirable job of keeping anyone else from coming near and becoming its sustenance. But how many before them have come here and been added to this monster's overcrowded belly?     Or maybe there is another cause for this stark difference.     They might never know. And rational thought and analysis is something decidedly more difficult than usual under these circumstances. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren may have advocated leaving and coming back, but he's not going to leave the others to their fate! He's heard enough tales of adventurers to know you never split the party. And he certainly can't leave the First to die here. As soon as Priscilla makes the call to go in, he follows.     He clings desperately to the rock of logic and academic knowledge. This is a supernatural fear effect. There's no reason for this to be any scarier than anywhere else in Lumiere that he's survived just fine. But how well can he fight, clinging to a rock in a turbulent ocean?     He sees a whip of blood swipe at the others ahead. Staren lands. The enemy is here. Hit it with everything. He fires his beam cannons, and unleashes a dozen missiles from his armor. You don't need yet another flowery description of how shaped charges work -- the end result is lances of plasma that go through tanks like tissue paper.     The missiles' guidance systems know no fear. 

:'''{{#var:1137|Asterios (1137)}} has posed:''' In the old times, the Minotaur was a creature which inspired awe and fear in all those who knew of the Kingdom of Crete. In some ways, it was worshipped as a god; or perhaps that's what the people knew it to be. Humans were sacrificed to feed the Labyrinth Bull of King of Minos, to win the favor of the court, to gain the favor of the gods. They did not know then that the creature that so revolted and disturbed them was nothing more than a lost, abandoned child. They called it Minotaur, the Bull of Minos. They called it monster. And so the Minotaur grew to become a monster. To survive. To live. To carry the burden of its caged existence. In those days, the only thing which the Minotaur feared was himself. His sins. The monster that he became, which lived so invariably close to the child that he still was. Is it at all strange, then, what has happened to him now? The Minotaur erupts into the Vampire King's throne room like an unfurling calamity. Waves of terror slam into him, needle into his flesh, tangible fear that beats at the walls of his soul and body alike. They remind him of his guilt. They remind him of his nature. The Minotaur roars; it fears only itself. Fear collides with pure, unbridled fury. A whip of blood slashes across the giant's broad chest as it rushes the bloody vampire-creature down. With a tremendous yell, he swings his tremendous axes into the Shadow's first mask, bringing steel forged in the High Age of the Gods to bear against this agent of corruption and torment. There is more than one monster in this maze, now. By the end, there will be at least one less. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord came in for a landing... of a sort. He stands on the shadows he formed so he may stand on the surface of the blood. He concentrates on this task for a minute so he can observe the being that seems to resemble him... but then something briefly occurs to him about the creature in front of him. It doesn't talk. It didn't speak a single peep. And it appears to be wearing a crown, something his eyes fixate on in the very brief window he's given to take in what sits before him.     And then he realizes time doesn't get perceived correctly when stunned by fear and the gnawing hunger to TAKE THAT CROWN from this being. He barely has time to respond to the whip of blood, which sends him skidding back over the surface of the blood when he expertly whips out his scythe to parry the blow. His arms tingle and he feels a fracture in one of his fingers from the impact, and something worse burns in his skin from the power behind the attack. Fear, used as an actual weapon against him.     With light cast down into here... it means that there are stronger shadows for him to utilize. He shifts his feet and suddenly launches himself forward, catapulting to the shadows cast from the light behind the Marble Guardian. He picks a window when the others would be attacking the Marble Guardian to do something else.     He vanishes from immediate view. Disgustingly, he had dove under the surface of the blood, and when he emerges again, it's /behind/ the Marble Guardian. Horrific insects spray in all directions as he singles out the crown atop the Marble Guardian's head...     And tries to backhand the crown right off of the being with a vicious swipe of his hand and a burst of black and red energy. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' So they were here at last the blood monster makes her skin crawl, even with as much as she'd seen in her short life. This is a new one but it's time to fight she can not let herself pause here, that could mean death for any one here or worse for those who are already such. She watches Kord, Finna, Asterios, Priscilla and Carna charge on in. She for once waits a moment as she changes the runes she normally gets dance about her with the strange native one,s she pulls her sword, not Dawn Breaker, it's Caliburn she pulls from her inventory. The blade glows with light and the additional strange wounds before Tomoe's wing flare out. "You want some of this?!" She gives no further words as she take flight she'll be careful with her flying as she makes for the Marble Guardian trying to get in close? She does take note to think of the Stone Devils they may have been ass holes but they ... may have bought time to keep that one guardian starved as it was. With ht she'll move to attempt to slam into it full force as he launches a rapid attack with her now enchanted blade. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' It's difficult to say from a glance at her what Finna's current mindset is. She's, by the look of it, receded into the labyrinthian mind of the beast within, letting pure instinct guide her.     And the instinct of the Lunar Exalted is to slay the monsters from beyond the world, and survive through anything.     The little fox starts to take on a strange vibrancy, the swirling anima drawing near and focusing tightening down into a superimposed phantom fox painted in broad strokes of moonfire, which mimics the motions of the real flesh and blood. All the dirt and grime and blood and guts they've been through boils away from her fur in the moonlight-turned-harsh. Moonsilver Tattoos blaze through the white fur, glittering and gleaming with the same unmistakable glare of a cat's eyes at night.     The choking terror claws at the beast. It tears at the beast's flesh.     But by the time she bursts into the site of this fateful battle, she is no longer a little creature of the woods. Seven, perhaps eight feet of hulking beastflesh charge-lopes out into the fray, wreathed in a burning blaze of moonfire. The moonfire fox that is Finna's soul on display joins her in rearing back and bellowing a piercing, bone-chilling, shriek-roar of her own - the warcry stoked from the blood of the hundred beasts that run through her veins.     Two hundred pounds of tight, honed, predatory muscle ripple and compress with divine speed as the bloodlash nears. She effortlessly vaults over it and blitzes ACROSS the bloody pool whether there's any reasonable footing or not, going straight for the apparent core of the blood-monster with furious swipes from silver claws sharp as the tip of the crescent moon, and just as aglow.     This, it seems, is how Finna will endure the terror.     It's a good thing that she rarely shows this side, right? 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     The feeling about this place, the one that physically fills it and glows out of it like searing radiation, is revolting. Moreso than the blood, the insects, the gore and flesh and even the stench of it all, the most offensively repulsive aspect of it all --the thing that most violently drives her back-- is the fact that this room, and the creature within it, force Priscilla to what it was like to be afraid. Not in the advanced sense; afraid of failure, afraid of disapproval, afraid of losing something. Frightened in the deep, primitive, equivalently lizard brain sense, with all the physical hallmarks of the instinct that screams flight over fight.     She had recently been forced to remember exactly how it had prevented her from acting when she should have, a long time ago. She is thus more than unhappy to have this forced on her a second time. Had she Kord's and Asterios' ear, she would, in fact, heed Staren's wisdom and leave. Priscilla is brave in a sense, she is jaded, she is ruthless, and she is exceptionally strong-willed, but she is not a fool, and has nothing to prove by intentionally subjecting herself to this. Had she her way, she'd listen to the sensible catboy and come back later with some means to protect herself from experiencing this nauseating feeling that turns her stomach in a way it shouldn't be able to. Sadly, she does not have that opportunity, so long as the Count and the Bull rage.     A direct attack is something can handle. Things have tried to kill her for centuries by now. The way Moonlight darts out is an automatic reflex, rehearsed through countless skewering parries (albeit with a shorter blade), but not only a whip, but a liquid one, is a poor thing to block thusly. The blade cleaves right through the bloody strand that finds her last, and does nothing to slow or hinder the tip already aimed for her, slashing her with the same velocity and opening the same kind of hydraulic gash across her midriff and ribs.     She almost wants to double over at the unbelievable sting of it, but honestly, some cold adrenaline in her system is an improvement over just a moment before. It clears her head. The dull black gem set into the crossbreed's own crown actively whorls with such stark white that it seems to move on its own. The blade of Moonlight hums faintly of its own accord, slowly issuing tiny embers of soft, blue light, for some reason or another.      Which is good, because even with the little jolt to her shaking system, she's still not wading into that mess to fight the Marble Guardian up close. Instead, she takes her hand, now sticky and red, away from her side and places it on the lower golden grip of the sword, bringing its passive glow up to a gleaming, singing shine, and cleaving through the air, sending a screaming blade of brilliant soulfire hurtling through the air and into the hideous beast's bloody torso. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Fury, rage at something just beyond the veil. Within the child lies secrets too terrible to be known by her mind, sealed away long ago. This... fear, this /thing/ scratched at it. It caused her power to manifest in a way that was not quite expected. To unleash that Void within her, the way of Zenurik--to dominate and overwhelm the enemy, and this enemy was fear itself, at least what was known at the time. It was probably a good thing that of all things, technically speaking, that for what she was, for who she is, that she didn't 'need' anyone to come back and secure her. Her body began to warp, to be drawn into a singular point like a swirling hurricane spiral that's drawn back into her Warframe, the gunslinger rising--though with some effort. Void energy overwhelmingly flows from her body like an aura unto herself. And then it blossoms outward. An oddly hued 'territory' as it were, extending down the corridor as she spins her twinlinked machine pistols in an elegant dance, making them disappear into the lilac light as she glances back--well, as much as someone /without eyes/ can glance back at the Blue Scholar. Cool light flows off of her, the nodes on her elbows releasing steam. It might not well be enough for anymore than her and the Blue Scholar, this Void-derived radiance, but it's all she can hope for as the tonfa-like attachments--longbarrel weapons, as one snaps into her finger, converting her left hand into one arm of the weapon that she truly is. <"Keep going, Enark. I'll cover you and make sure you can focus on this task."> she cooly states. All while pulling the trigger on her Regulator. The shot--is not like a bullet. It carries /properties/ of a bullet, but she can sense where the others are--the extension of her aura to know where that Marble Guardian is. It's something dizzylingly instantaneous, that first, measured shot--something that defies even the absurd physics of this world and the rest. It may as well be described as a warp bullet--whoever, whomever might be in the way of it, it will only find it's target; whether it'll HURT it any, is hard to say. Not that such a thing will go noticed on a technical thing, but her second Regulator comes into place, leveled at the future mimic that will be their ad-hoc Shrine of Light here. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Staren's attacks riddle the blood monster, causing eruptions of red that would mark terrible and lethal wounds in anything with a living body... Or with an actual body with organs and such period. Missiles sink into it and detonate inside, sending splatter everywhere. It keeps walking forward through the onslaught, blood flowing up from the pool it wades through to replace what is blown out of it by overwhelming force.     Asterio's axes sinks into the first mask, the one that looks like Kord's, with explosive force. Blows that would have liquefied the head of any other foe, if only their head wasn't already made of liquid. Shockwaves send waves of blood roiling back to wash up against the pedestal upon which the throne sits, sending flying insects scattering, and disturbing their nests.     Soon, there will be swarms of creatures like a cross between mosquitos the size of a grown man's hand and tarantula wasps, to come attack the intruders, but for now, they are lost in a whirlwind of confusion and anger, as well as a literal whirlwind.     The blades stick in the monster's face.     Asterios easily possesses the strength to pull them free without resistance.     But the monster reaches both of its sharp-taloned hands up and is about to attempt to plunge them directly into Asterios's chest, apparently undaunted by the enormous damage it is taking. But then Kord appears behind the monster that has borrowed part of his appearance, and knocks the crown from its head. The reaction is immediate, a screech of outrage that pierces like an icicle to the heart.     The crown plops into the blood and sinks out of sight.     Tomoe then charges in, ramming her light-infused blade into it and sending it staggering back, sizzling, with a slow-to-repair gouge in its torso. Whether Asterios pulled his goopy axes free on his own or if they were freed when the monster was send... Not 'skidding' but perhaps 'flowing' back, either way, they are now free to drive into the creature once more. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Finna plows into it in her transformed stated, focusing on the wound that Tomoe inflicted, and carving her way into its chest. The beast of blood seems far more responsive to injury now without its crown, and also faster to retaliate. Its arms turn into blood scythes it slashes back and forth with force like a high-tension cable snapping. It is not healing from its wounds, not pleased with them, but apparently not crippled with pain. But that is somewhat to be expected from something made out of blood.     The soulfire plunges into that ever-widening hole in its body, almost see-through at this point, as the curtain of blood that drips down from higher up its body can not fill that gap fast enough. The crimson fluid combusts around the edges in response to that power, and soon the creature is ablaze. And still trying to slice down anything in its path as it advances.     Kushiko's bullet seems to be the final straw as it strikes and rips the damaged body apart. The mask in its face shatters in a mass of Dead Lights, and amidst screams of pain and rage, the blood monster dissolves into the muck.     Is that the end? 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     No.     The blood monster rises back up from the depths, wearing its crown once more. Even dripping with blood, that golden circle is a spectacle to behold. Maybe it is even more so for the red stains upon it. The mask in its face has shifted, and it has one less in its body. Its feeling shifts as well. Rather than an overbearing fear-presence, the room chills and darkens, the bleeding walls seeming to close in around them, bending inwards to crush them.     Skittering black has replaced the imminent-black-out-like visual distortion. Lines of stuttering shadow, like distortions and stains in old film, but these are inside their eyes. Inside their heads. The mask is different... And so is the power behind it. This presence is much more familiar for those 'lucky' few who ventured to the Lumiere of the past this year. It IS the presence of the Crimson King they saw then.             MARBLE GUARDIAN             SHADOW OF THE FIRST VAMPIRE KING 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     But this is still fractured, weaker than what was felt then. Maybe even weaker than the presence they just faced. The physical fear effect is reduced as well, it is no longer an invisible hurricane buffeting them, it is simply an ice water lake that they're submerged in, trying to sap the life out of them, the very desire to struggle, pushing surrender to the Fear rather than pursuing the struggles that accompany it.     The sudden drop in blood pressure for those who have it from the nearly-lethal highs it was at before would be enough to make any normal mortal faint on the spot, and whether drowning in blood or the fanged larva swimming in it killed them first would be up to chance.     Carna has no blood pressure. And she is also the only one who has not attacked. Instead she has been trying to leap repeatedly, to spend as little time in the blood as possible, while she works her way towards the platform at the far end. She has her bow out, but has taken no shots. Perhaps she feels that striking from a vantage point other than the very element that composes the enemy would be more successful. She does appear to have tried to shoot a few times only to be interrupted by larva things biting her and forcing her to leap out of the blood to lose them.     It's just logical.     And while logic may be difficult right now, a Lantern's predatory instincts when faced with great power can sometimes surpass even their sense of self-preservation. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark is surprised to see Kushiko back up. "Are you alright? Queen Priscilla ordered us to retreat--" but the frame is already preparing for combat. It seems Enark is the only one still in no condition to battle. As the fear presence shifts, he vomits blood from the sudden shift in blood pressure, forced though the high pressure was to begin with. It is not so much the functions of his organs but 'all the blood accumulating in an unmoving heart and then suddenly being shifted outwards'. He doesn't stop to wipe his mouth, just focuses on the task at hand. He has never used his Murmurs to manipulate the water in blood, just water and 'Water'. But it is still water, in a sense, so he succeeds in creating a blood-shrine. Then he activates it as a mimic. It has a moment for its Shrine-stand 'legs' to start twitching and moving, and then Kushiko is likely to blast it, killing it. And then from there, Enark need only remember the pattern of the Shrine Mimic he turned into an active teleporter before, and apply that template here.     Then they'll have their exit, and he can join the others.     Beyond the change in presence, however, the new Marble Guardian has new attacks. It lifts its hands and the blood around seethes in places like there's creatures blowing bubbles swimming towards the intruders. If they get close enough, they erupt in huge solidified blood spikes, spearing towards the ceiling. Enough to impale or at least violently throw most foes. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     It's made of liquid. Shit, Staren needs other tactics... and he can't use them while people are crowded around meleeing the thing.     Staren has to trudge through the ick. Flying requires concentration he doesn't have right now. He weathers the spike of fear as the crown falls off as best he can. He sees swarms of bugs. Which can't get through his armor, but which can harass his allies... but which are distracted right now. THAT he can deal with. He pulls a missile launcher from his bag and starts firing a different kind of missile, one that results in fireballs to burn away the clouds of insects.     He's left woozy on his feet as the fear shifts -- his armor props him up until he can recover, the spark of fire and anger starting to grow inside him to push away the fear. Now he's pissed. Now he CAN be pissed. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' <"She did, and though we we would never admit it, retreat is something we rarely know."> Mesa-Kushiko answers somewhat cryptically. <"It would hurt us, hurt me, a great deal to lose Mesa here. But I can lose it, and they can't lose themselves here, even though they already have begun to slip."> She falls silent for a moment, before she directs both of her Regulators into it--blasting it with dizzying precision and speed--a rapidfire concerto of her guns blasting into it. <"... we're okay. This... whatever it is, is making us feel things we don't know why we're feeling it. There's a hole in our mind we've yet to fill."> The moment of candor comes and goes with the Tenno as she waits for Enark to finish the job. And then once she's relatively certain of it being done, she'll escort him towards the chamber proper so she can re-engage there. She can /shoot/ from here, sure, but single shots, not the rapidfire concerto she just demonstrated on the newly-formed mimic, though she does level one last trickshot--aimed at crippling one of its limbs if at all possible. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Scything blood responds to Kord's precision tactic to rob the being of its shiny jewelery. He regrets being so close to it, and the attack sends him backward when he tries to block it with his scythe. The physical power of it is intense, and the fear that robs strength from his muscles makes it even harder to focus. His heart hammers in his ears, making his head ache. His blood runs cold, and then... He almost passes out. The way his body slumps as he tries to stand on a wavering platform of dark atop the blood shows how close the shift in aura was to make him collapse.     But he doesn't. He can't even make out the sight of his own wounds, as drenched with stinking blood as he is. He tears his cloak off and throws it aside... he almost resembles how the Marble Guardian did at first, but through the dripping red, one can see that it's still him. Those glowing, pale blue points of light in his helmet show that he is quite awake and aware. He's just grody right now.     When the Marble Guardian prepares another attack, Kord does his quick shadowstep again, creating a spray of blood. But what he does is he steps /away/ from it, and tries to scoop Carna up. He does it swiftly, and places her at a stand atop the throne, the only point in the room where she might be able to avoid the blood bugs that fill this arena of death. He doesn't stop there, though, he makes absolutely sure to create an area of denial for further blood spikes by swiping his arm, and creating a loud BOOM as the liquid is forced aside and pushed in a wide circle away from him, a perimeter of shadow harnessed by the beam of light above him.     "The crown," he tells Carna, pointing toward it. "Destroy it." 

:'''{{#var:1137|Asterios (1137)}} has posed:''' Asterios' fury is a mixed blessing. His heart thunders in his chest not out of fear, but because that fear has triggered something which comes far more naturally to the Berserker. Rage fills his world. The room might be flooded with blood, but it's wrath that turns the Minotaur's vision red. With a sudden roar, he rips his great axe from the king's mask. He barely registers when the King's Shadow strikes back, but only because everyone gets to the king first. The Minotaur yells in defiant rage, surging forward with footfalls like thunderclaps. By the time he gets there, the King is dead. Asterios' axe slams into empty space as he nearly barrels through Finna's engorged form. But it's not done yet. The air still thrums with danger. The world still churns with fear. Asterios' fury rages unabated. Even as the nature of the terror washing over him changes, even as he feels blood he didn't even realize was there rush away from his brain, only to be hammered back in by the furious throb of his beating heart, the Minotaur thrashes in violent rage. Its axe slams into the throne, hews through the blood-lake. The king rematerializes in his peripheral vision. A bad move. If it weren't for the fact that pikes of solidified blood have just lanced up and /through/ the Minotaur's torso. Asterios screams in rage and pain as he's impaled. Ordinary men would meet their end there. The Minotaur does not. The Minotaur charges, shattering the bloody spikes with a sudden burst of explosive, forward force. Asterios yells in spite of his grievous wounds; he is made of stronger stuff than that. He will endure much more before he can be truly put down. In a split second, he's in range. A moment later, twin axes are swung with force enough to pulverize stone right at the creature's head. The way he's attacking... It might just shatter that crown, too. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe scores a heck of a hit on her opening attack even as Asterios is also making his own attacks. She sees the wound isn't healing as quickly, it seems this guardian does not like the light at all at all and she's going to not let up in the attacks, given her blade is charged with her normal magic and what ever has bonded ith her. She will keep up close and she will keep up the attack and move to bring the mourning wall to intercept. She is no sure if this is the end as the monster seems to go down, no it's back up, with it's crown and she starts to wonder just what it is now or should she say who it was? Then it dawns on her. "Wait this is...? Oh this is not good." She notes and that's when she drops the party wide buff causing her allies to be boosted in terms of defences and endurance. "I'll try to keep the king's attention." She lunges in now aiming to get in it's face but she sure is taking risks keeping close up like this. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Most warriors would be troubled by engaging an enemy in an arena that is clearly unsuited for them... and vastly favors their opponent. This is one such arena. The choking pool of blood and its vampiric maggot spawn is one such arena. The blood is slick and impedes manuevering, on top of being decisively UNFRIENDLY.     The Children of Luna were made for fighting terrible foes in their lairs, though. Whether seas of acid or the jaws of swirling chaos.     If this Marble Guardian hopes to overcome the Lunar Exalt through its unfavorable arena, it's in for considerable dismay.     Finna all but glides across the blood without slipping with sprinting steps light as moonlight and hardly rippling the pool's surface. The blood rises and twists into great scythes that strike from behind-- but her whole form twists, melts, and REVERSES. What was her front is suddenly her back, and vice-versa. The twist happens almost faster than the eye can see. With a mighty metallic CLANG and an explosive flaring of blood and silvery energies her claws meet the scythes with expert precision, turning them away at the last moment. They still curve about wickedly and pierce into her shoulders, the recoil does still fling her back across the chamber.     The blood-maggots fester, trying to squirm into the new openings. But though some of her blood drips out into the pool, the creatures are repulsed by new flesh rapidly growing in to stich the wound back together, good as new.     The lithe, but muscular werefox executes a stunning backflip manuever to recover and slams into the far wall... effortlessly transitioning the motion into DASHING STRAIGHT UP THE WALL and across the ceiling. Up, down, left, right, whatever. It's apparently all the same to this strange beastly warrior.     Snarling and growling deep in her throat, the Finna-beast returns to the fray by kicking off the ceiling and diving back down towards the renewed Marble Guardian like a blazing silver meteor. She splashes down on the bloody arena just in time to gather up her strength and--     And be run clean through by an assortment of spikes that rise to meet her. They pierce her belly, legs, arms and one comes dangerously close to her neck. Only a last-second twist saved her most important of vitals from impalement.     Yet this, too, does not halt her bestial assault. Snarling through the pain, the Lunar forces herself down onto all fours even if that means burying some spikes deeper into her flesh... and tears herself free in an IMPOSSIBLE MANNER. She simply vaults forwards, and her entire body ripples as though momentarily composed of quicksilver. The spikes 'flow' free of the fox as she dives towards her target, but they have claimed some prizes. Bits of flesh and bone, and pieces of digestive organs adorn the spikes.     Things that have been regenerated in short order.     Finna's swirling anima once again ripples like a moonbeam... and the distance between her and the Marble Guardian just vanishes. For a few brief moments the white foxmonster's all over the creature from multiple angles. This is an illusion of course, but it serves the purpose of making things hard on the creature so it may not know just which set of claws is the one that's aiming to slice through its neck! 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Count Kord says that the crown is this thing's core. More than the fact that it gets back up again after being killed once, more than that the object is so conspicuously placed and different from everything else, more than how the creature howls and screeches with rage when it is knocked loose, and more than the fact it is the only thing here but a throne and blood, Priscilla trusts his judgement for the sole fact that the Marble Guardian wears his face. So to speak. Allusions are almost never without merit to match their symbolism here.     Priscilla is validated in her decision to stay away from the blood, sweeping backward and out of reach of the spikes that lunge out of the pool to skewer her, not making the mstake of trying to block them again. There where she lands, she unslings, draws, and plants the black bow (with a squishier sound than usual), and strings one of her two remaining great arrows, barely able to see past the coalescing swarm, but sighting down on the gleaming, bloodstained object regardless.     Open the string and the bow, the great lance of flanged iron ignites, bursting into violently roiling black and gold flames, twisting and shredding at each other as if loathe to attached to the same object, and only blending together for it. The steel itself glows white hot, and the walls around her are cast into flickering light and shadow. After a breath, she releases the lance with the accompanying, deafening snap of the metallic string, sending it straight towards her target with the general speed and streaking light of a tracer round. The intense heat and occultic flame should do a fine job of incinerating a wide hole through the cloud of malicious insects, before it even reaches its final, dramatic explosions. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:''' Red Trough (Darkness) - <Lumiere> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------     The Red Trough looks mostly the same. A second Kord stands beside the throne. A gaunt young man stands beside the throne.     Something is sitting upon the throne. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Contents A Marble Throne <Something BAD Is Sitting Here> A Monster <The Crown Is Injured And Bleeding> Asterios <Exactly The Same> Carna <Something Hungry Trying To Escape> Count Kord <Intestines Streaming Out Of Belly To Connect With Second Kord> Enark <Exactly The Same> Finna <Smudged Fur> Kushiko <Covered In Skulls Dripping Rot> Priscilla <Exactly The Same> Staren <Black Smudges> Tomoe <Black Smudges On A Being Of Light> 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:''' Red Trough (Law) - <Lumiere> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------     The Red Trough looks mostly the same. But there is much wrong here that must be corrected.     Lines of power connect the throne to the monster. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Contents A Marble Throne <Runes Linking To The Monster> A Monster <Runes Linking To The Throne> Asterios <Exactly The Same> Carna <Something Hungry Trying To Escape> Count Kord <Half Gone> Enark <Exactly The Same> Finna <Exactly The Same> Kushiko <Exactly The Same> Priscilla <Lines Of Power Link Her Crown To The Throne> Staren <Connection Ports In His Head> Tomoe <Blinding White. Wings Made Of Runes> 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:''' Red Trough (Moonlight) - <Lumiere> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------     The Red Trough looks mostly the same in the light of the moon as it does normally, but the light at the far end of the room seems more intense.     It shines down upon the throne like a spotlight. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Contents A Marble Throne <Light Shines Down> A Monster <Crown Of Black Flame> Asterios <Bright White Hair> Carna <Something Hungry Trying To Escape> Count Kord <Exactly The Same> Enark <Exactly The Same> Finna <Shining Silver Tattoos> Kushiko <Exactly The Same> Priscilla <A Pair Of Transparent Arms Encircle Her From Behind> Staren <Exactly The Same> Tomoe <Black Smudges On A Being Of Light> 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:''' Red Trough (Chaos) - <Lumiere> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------     The Red Trough looks mostly the same, though the red haze that infuses everything obscures details. The walls seem to rearrange themselves at random.     But there's someone else here. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Contents A Marble Throne <Bleeding Fear> A Monster <Something Sharp> Asterios <Scars Shining With Red Light From Within> Carna <Something Hungry Trying To Escape> Count Kord <Hands Itching For Meat> Enark <Exactly The Same> Finna <Tattoos Burning Molten Red> Kushiko <Cracks Of Red All Over Mesa's Form> Priscilla <Exactly The Same> Staren <Red Circuit Patterns Burn In His Head> Tomoe <Exactly The Same> 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Staren prevents what might have been a terrible problem for the others to deal with by setting the huge insects ablaze. Though they continue to careen wildly around, sizzling and popping as they burst grossly and fall into the blood, dousing themselves and then being eaten by worm-things in turn, their threat as flying torches is far less than that of vampirising the party.     So far, aside from a few faint changes from Priscilla's blade giving off moonlight, there have been none of the reality alterations that have been experienced so far. However, with one mask down, something changes. It is not just one layer of reality revealed, but multiple at once.     Though this is not the most ideal time to be answering the non-voices that speak to him now, they seem insistent that it happen right now. One in the form of data, another in the form of animalistic growls, one in the form of whispers.     The decision they tell him to make is a simple single word, with a simple definition, and yet made infinitely complex not by the strict definition of it, but what it can mean beyond what is being spoken.     Choose. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Kushiko assists Enark in getting closer after he completes his task. A damaged blood-shrine sits there, but it should provide enough transportation shards for each of them. When he reaches the end of the corridor, and looks upon the awful vision of what the others are facing, and in WHAT, he decides to stay up where he is and cast water shields on everyone and healing spells where appropriate. That is the most benefit he can provide now. He has not yet done anything to heal himself, however, and his eyes are still clouded with red from the blood filling them from within. But he's not going to die from that. And if he has anything to say about it, none of his allies will die either.     Kushiko gets off her shot, exploding one of the blood limbs of the new form of the Marble Guardian. It does not seem to pay much attention, though it does take longer to reform than when it had three masks.     Non-voices begin to speak to her wordlessly. One in the form of whispers, one in the form of frantic, unstable-sounding song notes. They ask her to make a simply decision, with likely highly complex ramifications.     Choose. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Kord scoops up Carna and ATTEMPTS to place her on the throne, but she thrashes so wildly, like a feral beast, that unless he is prepared to use heavy force, she will refuse to touch it and instead try to just be set down on the platform the throne rests upon it. Why she should show such reluctance is unclear. But when he tells her to attack the crown... She looks once at the crown. Then at Kord.     "I refuse." Then she draws bowstring and fires it into the throne instead. Blood begins to trickle out of the spot where the arrow punctures it. "This is the only thing in this entire room that is not coated in blood. I think its weakness is here." As if to confirm her suspicions, the room trembles several seconds after the wound is inflicted. The walls start to crack open and more blood pours out, at a much faster rate. The blood level starts to rise.     Non-voices ask Kord to make the same decision as the rest.     All-too-familiar whispers, a series of symbols or letters that imprint themselves upon him urgently, and a restless desire in his hands, as though they independently desire to tear into something. The whispers are the loudest, the most clearly audible, enough to render the other two effectively imperceptible. But they are still there, even if unheard. And their message is the same.     Choose. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Asterios may not have succeeded in wounding the first king, but his axe slamming into the throne causes a jet-stream of blood to spray from the injury, for the walls and floor to shudder even more violently, like a living thing in pain, and for a screeching echo from beyond the space they occupy to resound on a level outside their own senses. Asterios may be too far gone to realize what he's doing, but the new king is reeling with pain and anger and fear from the wounds inflicted upon the throne. Blood pours out of the bricks and mortar in a flood, the already waist-height blood pool now up the chests of all but the tallest here in short order. Squirming worms bite and tear at anyone stuck swimming in this mess and even those who aren't, as long as they stand within it.     Kord's shockwave blows disrupt some of the creatures, and push back the blood that threatens to flow up onto the platform. It has already swallowed the first step.     As Asterios's axes slam into the blood-king tearing him in half despite the hideous wound suffered, the crown releases a distinct metallic ringing, but seems not to bend in any way whatsoever to the blow.     But the ringing sounds pained and mournful. Different in a very distinct sense from the fear and pain and suffering and rage and awfulness around them. Unlike just about everything around them, that crown might very well be alive.     Not that Asterios is in any state to realize it. Or even to understand the non-voices that speak to him wordlessly.     A roar of primal rage, madness, and killing fury, drowning out almost everything, swamping him in a primitive urging to make a decision. And also, a very quiet, gentle, reassuring voice, nostalgic in a why, like someone precious long forgotten. Despite its faintness, despite the volume of the sourceless roaring, it is not quite too quiet to ignore. Both pressure the Minotaur to make a decision.     Choose. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Tomoe chooses to forgot further violence. Such turns out to be highly useful in what comes next. As the throne is wounded, and the room bleeds, the buffer Tomoe provides for defenses keeps larval horrors from worming their way into the injuries they inflict and starting to eat her allies from within. With Enark's water shields stacked on top of them, and the injuries so far either receiving instant heals or healing over time effects, it is proven once again that brute force is not all that is important in battle, and especially not in Lumiere.     Runes circle past before Tomoe's eyes, a wordless non-voice translating a message for her brain. There are also whispers she has heard before, ever since coming to Lumiere, and finally listened to in the Library of Murdered Knowledge when they sought to warn her and her allies of impending threat. There is also a silted, quiet voice like a child's, that has been there for a long time now, but never consciously perceived until now. She says the same thing the other two voices do.     Choose. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Finna's strike following her impalement and body morphing escape meets a creature with most of its head and half its body already gone. It is in no position to try to guess which of her natural weapons she will use to tear it apart. But her strike likely would have landed regardless such is her speed, ferocity, and power. The remainder of the creature scatters and splatters, melding back into the blood. The crown was sent airborn when Asterios struck it. And, following the pattern, it will probably emerge from the blood atop a new abomination's head.     But amidst all of Finna's ferocious growling, her clamouring for blood despite being surrounded by it, non-voices speak to her wordlessly.     A strong, joyful, gentle voice that nonetheless rings with notes of caution, the bestial instincts that presently consume her spasming through her brain in growls and barks and snarls, as well as deathly whispers that she has heard on occasion since coming to Lumiere, and listened to only once, when Abyssal Horrors crept out of abandoned homes and began to erase everything by eating up everything that made them what they were.     They all have the same message.     Choose. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla's arrow slams into the crown in mid-air, causing a calamitous explosion that send out metallic shrieks of pain. Unlike when the throne is struck, it seems to have no impact upon the room they are in. But it is clearly doing SOMETHING. And while the crown is remarkably STILL THERE in the aftermath, its decorative spikes are bent, some are broken, and power bleeds from it in a way that Priscilla can detect quite clearly with her soul sense. This is a creature, not simply an object, and she may have just dealt it a mortal wound.     It plunks into the blood, the red turning to black around where it fell as something mixes with the surrounding awfulness, turning it into something else completely. Something very distinctly of Death, but also of... Corruption? The decay of the world, the gradual crumbling of moral fiber, the rot that underlies everything, not just in the land of the dead but also in the land of the living. The sense that things are not getting better, they are only getting faster, rushing headlong towards a doom that everyone can see coming if they would just LOOK, but which too many choose to avert their eyes from, and too many others face with apathy and decide to do nothing about.     And in spite of that... That feeling of a twisted true nature, that while Wrong, is still somehow 'Natural', two wordlessly non-voices speak to her.     One is the voice she heard in the ruins of Sub-Terra Luna. That child with the long hair. The other is Priscilla's own voice, cold, regal, imperious, and commanding. Though one is gentle and almost fragile, and one COMMANDS respect because it is OWED, they speak with exactly the same silent 'volume', when one requests and one ORDERS a decision.     Choose. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     As expected, when the crown emerges again, there is a new monster. However, this time is different.     Just as the fear has changed flavor each time, so has it also changed masks. Its last one shattered in a mist of Dead Lights. And now its third adorns its face. The one with the longest 'beak'. However, the gaze that emits from its empty sockets is nothing like what came from the other two. The first one, that wore Kord's mask, was painful just to stand in the same room as, such was its power. The second was somewhat weaker, though terrible in entirely different ways.     There is no comparison of powers between this one and the other two. There is no scale that exists that can measure something like this. No system that can predict an outcome. No comprehension. In many senses, they simply can not feel this power directly, because it is beyond any frame of reference they have had so far. It is beyond the gods. Beyond those who exceed gods, the Titans.     This is a shadow.     A shadow of those primal incarnations that were said to Be power by Enark.     The forgers of Eternity, within which Lumiere and the underworld are an insignificant speck among so many others.     It is only a shadow.     But it is still, undoubtedly an Eternal.     Enark and Kushiko are sucked inside by a great pressure. The details of the room they are in fade away. There is still blood filling it at a frightening pace. There are still gross bugs. There is still a platform, and a bleeding throne. But the walls are gone. The blood-drowned floor is gone. The ceiling is gone. Everything around them is just black. It is as though they are in a box with invisible walls, at the bottom of the deepest, darkest ocean -- and that ocean of blood is trying to force its way in... And succeeding. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     They have tasted many flavors of fear.     Anxiety, panic, terror, horror... And now they have finally delved too deep.     They now face that which there is no preparing oneself for. By definition, Fear of the Unknown can not be anticipated.     The monster that rises INSIDE their 'box' is a simple frame of blood, with a crown, and the third mask, with the longest beak. But OUTSIDE of the box, a massive version of that mask fades into sight out of the darkness, like a deepsea monster emerging into the artificial light of a diver far outside their depth. Crimson arms circle inwards, their scale impossible to guess at, all perspective thrown completely out of the window. Armor smoldering with flames, molten flesh between black steel plates, corruption bleeding out into the world like this entity is hemmorhaging Wrong.     And despite all that fire, that fury, that volcanic flesh...     There is No Light From The Fires.             FIRST KING OF LOSTRATA             LOS, THE CRIMSON KING 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Anger is flaring up in Staren. Anger at being made to feel this way, which he in turn clings to to feel something other than the fear, which allows it to grow.     The world looks... strange. There are clues, maybe, about the throne having come connection to Priscilla and the Monster, and Kord having some connection to the monster.     And then something dares to ask him to make a decision. Demanding. Without information, without context. It is a red flag made of little red flags wrapped in red flags. Through the lens of anger, it feels like something trying to /manipulate/ him. Something that will take his words, twist them, and then blame him for the results forever more.     "NO!" he shouts. "I grant my OWN wishes! Take your CHOICE and go to hell!"     Then he remembers that they were fighting. He looks to the King, but it's being torn apart.     Only to reform as something new. The masks and the crown are clearly significant -- it's out of masks now. Is this its final form? Or perhaps the penultimate one. Or maybe they must destroy the mask and the crown, and THEN the monster?     But as he takes aim at the crown, another monster appears. A huge one. He's fought big things before. But... there's something off about its appearance. Like it's in the skybox, rather than actually here.     Staren starts circling around to put the king between him and the new threat. "Concentrate fire!" He fires his beam cannons at the crown. They shouldn't fight on two fronts. First the king, then the new threat. 

:'''{{#var:1137|Asterios (1137)}} has posed:'''     Asterios is too far gone to realize what is happening on any level but the most base and animalistic. He has become an engine of wrath and destruction and raw, predatory instinct. The Minoan Bull was no gentle death. It brought a gruesome, painful end. It hunted its walls like a starving beast. None would escape from it. None could escape from it. It killed and it ate and it killed and it ate, the bane of heroes, the thing that crushed the brave and the foolish alike. The Minotaur grins with manic glee as its axes find purchase. Metal screams and blood splits in vast crimson gouts. The Minotaur exhults with primal joy as it cries and-- and-- The world                                   changes                                       The Minotaur staggers as twin forces buffet at its mind. Red and white blend but never mix, transforming his perception of the world into an alien haze of fury and... and... the ringing sounds pained and mournful     primal rage, madness and killing fury, drowning out everything         a voice A voice. A... voice... "Hnnn!" Asterios slams against a wall, the room trembling with the impact. He groans, shaking his head as that... that /thing./ That monster. The great mask and the figure that it rests upon. Asterios pays it no heed. He cant. There's... Something else. Something else.                               "Mo...ther...?"                               He shakes his head. The feeling of wrongness, of raw corruption, seems to seep into his pores like an awful, viscous grease. It worms its way into his ears, into his eyes. But there's something else there now. The memories flood back. Asterios stares at the monster. He bellows a tremendous roar. Choose. Choose. Choose. Asterios chooses. He charges. He brings his axes down, again and again and again, with all the power in his limbs. ...Onto the bleeding throne. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' The questionable mental state that Finna's seemed to be in thus far... well, there might be a method to the madness, an awareness under the ferocity. However buried her higher levels of decision making and emotions might've been under inside the labyrinth of the beast within, human alertness and focus has been slowly returning since the Marble Guardian's first shift.     As the creature's completely demolished by her strikes and sent sailing off to reform, the foxbeast doubles forward to gasp and heave. She flips off the pool of blood and onto solid footing. Just breathing.     And with every breath, the relentless Lunary fury quiets. Everything goes quiet in her awareness... and the visions strike. All at once. Each perceived separately, but alike. Three different visions of the reality. Three voices.     "......"     With one final howl-shriek the beastly flesh steams forth more milky Lunar Essence... and recedes like melting snow. No, that's not quite right either. It sinks like a stone into a deep lake. The hulking form shrinks, drawn inwards until only the human girl in hunting leathers is left, clutching her bow. Her skin - as usual, a daring amount indeed - glows from within.     Despite how TERRIFIED this place made her, have these visions somehow... comforted her?     Springing a warm smile that's unsuited to the gloomy and macabre locale and clasping her bow-hand over her heart in a show of sincerity, she speaks airily to nobody in particular, "You even need to ask? Don't be silly." The mark of the crescent moon on her forehead pulses and gleams even brighter, along with her tattoos.     Her heart's still pounding hard enough to bruise her ribcage.     Her eyes narrow as she levels her bow and draws an arrow from Elsewhere, takes aim...     The distant monster, and its crown of black flames, which she finds so offensive.     Her powerbow reaches maximum draw... and she looses the arrow. It spears through the air trailing sparkles of silvery anima! 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Despite everything Kord has done or said up until now, despite the darkness in him that swells into a crescendo of horrific violence, he does not react much to Carna's defiance. Her reply to him, striking at the throne itself, creates a moment of hesitance from him, and then realization of what that might be. That may, in fact, be the core of the beast. Yes... he remembers now. One side would be one thing, and the throne would be another. He remembers the throne rising out of the floor when the Crimson King arrived to view everyone else.     He saw the other images. He saw them practically tethered in place. There was an injustice here, something that rose his hackles. Even the crown, perhaps, was trapped here... or that's what he thinks as the world falls away and a primal fear arrives.     Los towers over them. He looks at the being, and recognizes something there. He saw a god there, a being beyond measure, representing something that cannot be fought. He felt the crushing weight of the Unknown.     He had said he would kill Los... but when the time came, he looked the god in those hollow pits that might be eyes, turned, lifted his hand, and slammed his claws down toward the Throne as hard as he could. A massive wave of black energy follows it, just raw elemental power, nothing fancy or unusual. If he had jaws, it gave the impression he would've used them. There would be a loud Crunch of stone and a blast of wind from the attack. Even through his desire for strength, for freedom, he was still a good man. He still wanted to save people, over hurting them. When he made a decision to kill, it was never done lightly. He never felt satisfaction in it.     Going with his theory, he tries to shatter the throne, to free those wayward souls that relied on its power, to undo a cycle of torment. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' It's wonderful isn't it, to face such euclidean horrors, ephemeral yet so very /real/ in their ways. She felt it as she progressed through the corridors, felt it even as she had briefly disengaged her Peacemaker systems, the Regulators snapping their long barrel back into place along her arms. <"Tend to yourself too, Enark,"> she can be heard as saying, her voice cutting and wrapping itself close to the Blue Scholar, a projection without the physical presence owed to a true 'voice'. Regardless as she arrives by way of them being /sucked in/ to this room she readies herself, nay, steadies herself for the battle to be properly rejoined by herself and Enark... the voices. The concept of voices is something that is... an unfortunate companion to her. They become murky things, due to the instability. Margulis. Mother. The two things, the song notes make her very nearly pitch back, though she stiffens at the very last moment. A concept without the words to accompany it.     The beats of the drums at the last ceremony to honor them. The way Kushiko 'sees' through the Warframe is sometimes a peculiar thing. Sometimes it's a perspective through the head-mounted sensors, the technocyte flesh within providing the conduit. Other times she can see within and without, like a specter guiding her own body. And it's this vision that lets her see, through the Darkness and Chaos she sees: the spiderweb of cracks, of crimson red and so adorned by skulls that drip with rot. What it means, she cannot say. That others in the passing moments look precisely the same is... potentially troubling, to put it mildly. What does it even mean for her, compared to others, let alone what did they see? Priscilla looked stressingly /normal/ to her, as did Enark. But she couldn't dwell on it. Whatever 'choice' there was, she could only focus on what she felt, what she knew. And what she knew meant that the figure on the throne--not the throne itself, was to be her focus. Asterios, Staren, Kord, whomsoever is in her way needn't worry at least. As the Regulators snap into place on her fingers, she sweeps her hands, bringing forth a lasso-like satellite of lilac energy to orbit her. And when she begins to fire, she becomes likened to a phantom, distorting reality around her as when she starts firing, it's something that can visually be tracked, for certain. But as the seconds pass, and her narrow field of focus--the aura that extended from her and focused on her as she utilized the Warframe's ultimate ability, she started moving so fast that it was like still frames; ghosts of the motion she made transitioning from one posture to another. And she'd fire. And fire, and fire, and fire until it sounded like a rapidfire jackhammer of discharging guns. Sure, there were those targeting the throne itself, but that which resided on the throne... something /bad/ screamed out to all of her senses, all of her combat instinct would not rest until it was erased from this reality and the next. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe sees things strange things she's starting to see things now too. She sees several visions of things here it's hard to make it out for a moment everything is different here. She everyone through other views she even kinda gets a bit of a look upon her self here. She sees the marble Throne, is it chaining the fallen King here? Has it been tied to it to them to suffer? Is it the key to the thing's power? That could be both really, it could be both of them. She wanted to help Carna, to help Einark and others fix this world. So it would function again and stop this eternal suffering of it's inhabitants that is why she came here. She sees the axe thing the the throne, that spray of blood makes her glad she was able to help her allies and keep them safe from suffer harm from the larva can not borrow into them. That was a lucky boon to everyone and she hears the not one voice but several all of them are saying the same thing. She must choose and it's better to act than never to act and sit on the fence. She sees the Runes linking to the monster she now has an idea it's tied to it. She chants a spell again boosting the effect on her blade her bight glowing wings flare out the normal runes and strange runes from here dance around her body and then she charges to try and sever the monster's lines to the thrown trying to cut it's connection with her currently blazing sword. It is better to act than not to act often, no action changes nothing. Her choice has been made and she calls out. "That thing is connected to the Throne I'm trying to cut the connection!" 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     The crown had certainly been the core of something alright. The feeling of seeing the colossal arrow strike home and erupt into a million flaming fragments is something deeply satisfying as error, as is the ping of the golden circle being sent spinning and splashing into the blood. Priscilla looks up from its final plunge before she even lowers her fingers, looking to Kord and to Carna, but finding the former busying himself with the throne instead, even after suggesting the crown as a target, and the latter not at all dealing with the surge of Dead Lights that is currently her near-whole purpose to consume.      Priscilla looks back down again, in confusion and dismay. Her hand hovers back to the small of her back, fingers curling around the notched base of the third and final metallic lance, but hesitating at the draw when she sees the blood blacken, sicken, and die around the splashdown site of the crown. The significance of it doesn't click for her. It registers, but she is left with mental gears spinning as to why even this hot, reeking, humid, slick and gorey hell, buzzing with voracious flies and maggots and coated in shredded flesh, can somehow still find some way to decay and worsen further.     It it an improvement? Is being rid of the stuff worth it? Is it harming the Marble Guardian? Is damaging the crown damaging its domain? But it's the throne that seems to do it. If Dead Lights are leaking out without the crown being 'slain', is the corruption another kind of power leaking out of it as well? An intentional seal, or a prison made and worn by the creature itself? No doubt it had been fed plenty before coming here, so is that where it stored all of its kills? Priscilla can come up with wild theories all she wants but even if any are true, she can't recognize them. This kind of prolonged, thoughtful hesitation in the midst of combat would normally be fatal, did she not have the benefit of so many others working their hardest to support this final effort unto the end of Lostrata.     It's a good thing, then, that she doesn't have forever to think about it. The blood surges upwards, devouring and drowning her perch, driving her backwards further, but winding up around her ankles, then her knees, and then rising from there, submerging her in the same filth that had set itself alight whence poured from the Chains of the Dusk Sun. The final arrow comes out and finds its place across the massive span of her bow, beginning to flicker with the light and dark flames that will ensure its violent end, but when the world shrinks away, the detail of the situation flees with it, and the throne and its existential bleeding is what rises out of the black to define the center of their new universe, coiled within the pulsing and corrupted arms that bear such a striking resemblance to the traces of power Crow had shown, the point swivels upwards to the target of the last, desperate assault, and a wailing, keening, metaphysical scream, --the echoes of a psychic screech that physically burns with the seething, vapourizing intensity of its hate and its rage and its covetous spite-- sears itself into the throne as a brand. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     She hears the two voices in her head, and unlike the others, it isn't difficult for her to choose simply out of picking between two devils she doesn't know. Though one is gentle and one is commanding, the one she knows not the intentions of belongs to one of the very few people who had wished her any well in this place, and the one that could, theoretically, be a darker side, belongs to someone she already knows inside and out, and could not be surprised by. Though there is the tangible prospect of confronting some sort of inner evil of her own, weighed against the clear salvation offered by the moonlit girl who had reached out to her twice before, Priscilla's thoughts rest somewhere else: on a slight, tenuous thread of possibility, that she groped for blindly in the metaphorical and quite literal blackness, for the simple fact that she would never let herself stop wondering 'what if' if she didn't.     "Priscilla." she whispers, not to herself, but to the only other person she had met deserving of the name, half-real as they had been. "If it is thee that I hear, some way and some how, thou knowest mine choice already. There is a promise to thee that precedes and supercedes all other matters. It is one I intendeth to keep."     The arrow bursts into a conflagration of unholy fire, and launches itself, hungering, screaming, and wishing for its own explosive death, straight into the baleful mark of Calamity placed upon the throne. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The wounded crown leaks power, losing its unseen contents and turning the blood creature it is perched upon from red to black, in the ensuing less literal bleeding. Staren's attack slams into the crown, knocking it free of the blood monster's head for a third time. Another of its 'spokes' snaps off under the onslaught. The impression that this is something that should not have broken so easily, that it once had power enough to weather far more than this, and has now been weakened by the power that Staren wields or perhaps simply the essence of his choice or maybe just because he is more than a normal man, and everything he has done to come to this point is why he can do things that someone who simply sat around theorizing about what might be possible if they got up and did something could never do.     This act may resonate there for a moment.     Yes, he made a choice, even if he thinks he didn't. All of them did. And they'll find that out sooner or later.     For Staren, it is sooner. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The Minotaur's axes slam down again and again, splitting the throne more and more, carving into it, exposing the unwholesome not-quite-meat within a construct of stone and steel, and the blood sprays out, the shuddering of unseen walls becomes more violent even as the level of blood rises and rises, until even the throne itself, splintered and fragmented, is about to be drowned, and even the giants among them will have to start swimming if they do not make it to the throne in the next few seconds.     But this foul creation is undoubtedly the source of the Fear now, as it made clear when the aura of Fear that has been assaulting them all this time begins to fade, decreasing in sharp spikes, more and more with each strike that lands.     As things fade, hoewver, some memories may become stronger in turn. Better ones. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Finna reverts to her more human form. She sheds the trappings of a beast, she eschews the frippery of an Exalted, taking only the attire of a huntress of the wilds. Though the weapon she uses is more than mortal, she chose not to give in to blood lust and primitive instinct. Her arrow strikes the crown in mid-air, much like Priscilla's did before.     There is one last inhuman, un-animal cry of pain from something with an inanimate form but a living presence, and then its golden gleam loses its luster and its power leakage slows to a trickle, and it sinks without rising again into the pool of blood.     The blood stops turning black around where it falls. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Kord sees that which he swore to kill. He rethinks his priorities. And he turns and slams his hand, his power, into the Throne. Much like Asterio's axe blows, it has an immediate, tangible effect. Walls that were trembling and closing in begin to recede. Blood begins to drawn from the room. A hole has been punched clear through to the back of the monstrous seat, the sheer resilience of this thing betraying its true nature. THIS was the Marble Guardian. Fighting them by proxy, making up for its own inability to act by corrupting and using others. Egging them on with fears, real and imaginary, until they snapped.     The other Kord, Unpainted Kord, looks down at the intestines that link him and Kord in the Darkness vision. The Darkness recedes, and that, as well as the Unpainted Kord, both vanish. Likewise, the blackness from which Los is emerging begins to flow back over him, or at least this shadow, this echo, of him from when he sat the throne in a different time. It is hard to imagine he ever could fit in such a seat. But perhaps he didn't. Perhaps it was made for those who came after.     It is not that he is retreating, that he has stopped coming closer to them, but the medium he travels through has extended to conceal him once more. If he has stopped or not, there is no way to tell. But at least the walls and ceiling stop being transparent, as they are returned to the normal form of this room. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Kushiko fires into the throne over and over and over. She's targetting what's on it, but her shots pass through the phantom. Is it actually real? Is it actually there at all? Kord suffered hallucinations. And despite what all of them have seen, even the shared visions, there's no gurantee that ANY of this has been real. But her attacks, while they do not wound what sits there because of its seeming insubstantiality, they do have an impact.     The entity looks down at itself, at the shats passing through. Then it looks around the room, as though only just realizing there are other people around. And then it fixes its gaze on Kushiko. It has no visible eyes. No visible face. It's just a sensation that 'something is BAD' and 'it is sitting there'. It is that vague. But it becomes less vague when it stands, and looks at Kushiko. Not at Mesa. AT. KUSHIKO. And then it starts trying to crawl up the link towards her, to pry open causality, gut it, and slither through the hole to the other side.     And then it has a face. It is a mask.     A creepy, smiling theater mask. Something is moving under it. She can't see that, but she can feel it, the same way she can feel it is BAD.     But then something is flooding in, black and cold and whispering, and it closes up the psychic tunnel being formed, even though the BAD thing keeps looking right at her, all the way up to the end.     And her shots have filled the throne full of holes, smoldering and bleeding. It is no longer even recognizable as a throne. It is a squatting, bleeding thing, like a smashed spider.     The BAD thing isn't here now.     But that doesn't mean it's gone for good.     And it knows her face now. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Tomoe attacks the runes linking monster to throne. Somehow, she breaks them. Severs them with her sword. The power is snapped, and the blood monster dies without losing its final mask. It collapses into a puddle, the rotten blood and revolting insects having been sinking until the latter are left stranded to shrivel and offer up their Dead Lights to each of them in turn, the cold feeling of bits of other people's spirits congealing together, gathering in the pits of their stomachs.     Something Wrong was just made right. Law was applied to undo something that was written into being against Law's will.     Tomoe may feel, quite correctly, that while the efforts of her companions were not any LESS important to putting a stop to this travesty, it would not have truly been ended satisfactorily unless this step was taken. This measure to put something she does not even understand to rest, without asking why, or what she will gain from it, simply doing it becaue that is what is Correct.     And in the wake of this act, a gaunt young man standing alongside the throne gives a relieved sigh and fades away. Or at least from Tomoe's sight.     It's hard to say if a ghost is ever really gone in Lumiere. Especially one as old as the First Vampire King. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla has bigger things on her mind right now than the receding blood levels, most likely. MUCH bigger. But as Los vanishes from sight, the room becoming opaque again, and the filthy blood, unlike what flowed from the Chains of the Dusk Sun because this comes from those sacrificed for the sake of this awful throne and the monster that sat upon it for so long, diminishes to mere puddles on the floor. Unlike with the Chains of the Dusk Sun, there is no sign of gutters for it to flow into. It just all turns into Dead Lights at once. All those slain Lanterns and possibly Lit as well, all the beings who were gutted and torn apart, turned into fodder for a wretched thing that might not even have wanted it, but NEEDED it to feed its addiction, have not been permitted to try again or pass on until now.     The rush of power into all of them makes the offering of the bloated bugs nothing by comparison. But it is not a heady rush of fulfilling power, of strength. It is the stolen Light of countless victims, now shared between them all, linking them in a battle and its conclusion and an understanding of what they finally put to right, that no one outside this room will ever truly comprehend.     An abomination was put to right here.     And when Priscilla delivers the final blow to the awful throne, somehow still clinging to existence, even growing hairy spider legs in its final moments, for a last desperate attempt to kill those who have come before it, to stop them from the path they have set themselves upon, the entire room is burned free of this filthy corruption. Even the grossness coating them is dissolved into Dead Lights.     And something unexpected happens.     A river of power surges up the link between Priscilla's crown and the throne, binding the lines that were already there together, and condensing them down to a single silver thread. After Tomoe cut the runes between monster and throne, it had nowhere else to go.     And now her fate is bound, or least whomever wears her crown, to that of Lostrata's throne. Even if the physical throne itself is now gone.     'To the dragon queen, a third throne waits.' 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     MARBLE GUARDIAN SLAIN: THRONE OF THE CRIMSON KING.     There are some things which remain in the aftermath. A broken and battered crown, a white bird-like mask, and the platform the Marble Guardian rested upon. The platform which rises up out of the floor much like the one in the Crimson King's palace did. It rises all the way up to the ceiling... And then it punched through the grate there. A glyph glows upon it, and a voice chimes.     "Connection to Villa de Plaguen re-established. Second Plane now available for transit."     Enark looks ragged as all hell, and ready to get out of here, and even suggests such. "If someone could get us back up to that corridor... I think we can teleport to... Somewhere safer."     Carna looks frustrated as she stands there with her bow in hand. Unlike everyone else, she heard nothing. She senses no satisfaction in what she did. Even the Dead Lights that have filled her do not make her feel fulfilled.     Maybe it's not this battle that leaves her feeling this way... But the desire to go above, that is almost overpowering. To finally see what is beyond this Plane that is all she has ever known.     The desire to see the World of Ashes for herself grows stronger. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' You ever have the feeling that you've maybe made a horrible mistake midway through something you thought, maybe even felt was right? Something about what was wrong here felt... something familiar, something that she herself had a suspicion of, but could never even remotely touch it. Even as she fired, she tried, she tried and /tried/ to focus, to guide the bullets, the infusions of Void energy into them, to cross the borderstates. It wasn't something she /thought of/ in that way, just relying purely on instinct. So when it came to this... entity thing, something that looked through her, looked through Mesa, through the Transference Link, she felt that very real sense of panic that Ordis himself did, who begged for her to shut off the Link. She very nearly does--until... that /something/ reaches to flood in, black and cold and pervasive along her Link. hey kiddo Comprehension is... not something she can immediately seize. The most outward evidence of this, of something... /happening/, is the automatic systems of the Warframe disengaging Mesa's Peacemaker systems, the Regulators snapping and slotting back as she staggers and buckles to one knee. Energy roils not around, but as part of her, like a wildly flickering lightning storm on the surface of the Warframe in weirdly uniform places. And then to a second knee, on hands as well, before she slowly begins to try and get to her feet. When she speaks, her voice resonates, flickering back and forth like it was near any number of people at random. ("It knows... me.")     <"Something... bad.">         ("Something that shouldn't be.")     <"Like me, but more, worse.">    <"Something else was there too."> After a few moments, it seems like she's... trying to focus herself. The Void energy, the way she speaks through the conduit of her frame is becoming a little more stable. <"I don't know what it could be but it's..."> Her voice trails off as it seems even Mesa's head hangs a little bit. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren sticks to the last objective called out: the crown.     If this is a bad thing, he could point out that he was hardly in a situation to think or choose clearly. He did the best he could with a bad situation. As he has so many times. So many are dead because he didn't put Wireless down earlier, after all.     But it's not really clear that it IS a bad thing. Or a good thing. It seems the throne was the true monster, and the crown a... symbol? With both gone... Well, honestly, Staren could argue that they're symbols with no real meaning now. Lumiere is scarcely organized enough for a king to rule over. And when it is, whatever form of government its denizens choose will matter more than some relics of a bygone age.     So what was their purpose, here?     Oh right, they were ending a monster that tortured people.     Which means that their job isn't over yet.     Staren drops the crown -- it's quite possibly cursed or something -- and heads out. He has lanterns to free and unlit to burn. 

:'''{{#var:1137|Asterios (1137)}} has posed:''' Stone buckles, breaks, shatters, crumbles. Flesh-under-stone breaks, bleeds, withers, dies. With each blow, the fear abates. Each blow shrinks that chilling, pulsing terror that has pressed so long and powerfully against his psyche. Asterios roars in triumph as the throne at long last goes utterly still. ...And then promptly hefts his axes from where they've been buried in the broken throne, crooks one between his neck and cheek and shoulder, and idly inspects the gaping wounds in his chest. They aren't... bad. But... "That... voice," Asterios mutters, gazing meaningfully at the light still pouring from the grate in the ceiling. It stirs an old memory. One of the few that isn't tainted in misery and despair. Memory conjures memory. The Minotaur allows himself a slight smile, before turning to the others. "Aa! I will. Carry. Let's go!" And so he does. And so they do. It'll be nice to be in a place that isn't here again. Asterios is looking forward to it. 
}}

5574/When The Gutters Bleed

2018-02-02T04:27:32Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/11/17 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=Elites challenge their second Mausoleum, and the Marble Guardian within. |Cast of Characters=974, 954, 513,..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/11/17
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=Elites challenge their second Mausoleum, and the Marble Guardian within.
|Cast of Characters=974, 954, 513, 6, 1137, 70, 964, 42
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     A new sight greets veteran explorers of Lumiere. New members contend with the bone-mound in the Cavern of Death portion of the Four Cavern, and the center of which is a very deep hole, into which everyone else willingly leaps. A fall through blackness, impossible to tell whether it was long or short, ends in a gentle landing upon an endless black marble expanse. The only thing here are the explorers themselves, including two natives of Lumiere, a cloak and hat-wearing undead hunter named Carna, and a scholarly-looking man in blue robes named Enark.     Oh, well, there are a coupleof other things.     There are two identical stone gates situated at an angle to each other. One is gray, the other is red. The Grim Bone Gate can be used to link to anywhere that one of the modes of transit in Lumiere called Shrines of Light have been activated at. The Bleak Bone Gate, at least for now, seems to link only to a single location in Guillotine Square, right outside the entrance to the lair of a terrible monster known as a Marble Guardian, that carries and embodies an Aspect of some kind.     Upon the surface of each gate, skeletons are carved from stone, all reaching and crawling over each other, trying either to pry the gates open... Or to hold them closed.     The Grim Bone Gate is, as is usual, closed until someone opens it.     The Bleak Bone Gate, on the other hand, is doing something that the Grim Bone Gate never has.     As it remains there unattended, its doors are not shut. They sit partially open. This otherwise sterile location, thus, has the faintest tinges of blood in the air, and a taste of fear lingers.     Why might these gates be open?     The obvious and most worrying possibility is that someone has already gone ahead of them.     Equally worrying is the possibility that something has come out. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord arrives in the plaza that sits between the two doors, his feet touching down. He immediately turns toward the red door, giving it a lookover from top to bottom as it appears to be open. He looks around the empty nexus, a room he is starting to believe will serve a great purpose in helping them navigate Lumiere.     He makes no comment. He lazily lifts his hands, and shadowy hand-like formations solidify and pull the door open from whatever side that is possible from. He steps through and progresses onward to the hole in Lumiere, steps up to the edge, and then just leaps off. His cape billows behind him as he rapidly vanishes into the depths, going down the empty center of the spiral as he rapidly descends into the dark. If one wasn't paying attention, they might lose track of him, as he is still as silent as a shy ghost.     As usual, he doesn't seem to care if people follow him or not. He has his own priorities. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna, once again in her highly mobile fox form, *CHROOOOOOOOOOO-CHIRPS* in protest at the Bleak Bone Gate not long after arriving at the agreed time. She's slouched down with legs bent, ears flat against her head. It's body language that is very clearly UNHAPPY if not downright spooked. Every so often she just SHIVERS while gazing at the cracked-open gate...     "Why is it open?!" 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe has been wondering about the change that's come over her as far as Lumiere was concerned she was in pretty deep when all things are said and done, which she'd see through to the very end for good or ill. Even if a part of her just wanted to take her Aguma off someday and fade into the faceless masses of the multiverse. Maybe that's why she kept herself so busy to keep herself from trying to follow up the urge to do that. She would also not forgive herself if she bailed on people she was helping too. "This is not expected, why are they open?" She starts for the open bleak bone gate to get an ides of why it's opening and what might have opened it. "I don't think we were the first one's here." If no one moves to stop her, she's going to move past the gate. 

:'''{{#var:1137|Asterios (1137)}} has posed:''' There is a new face here in the deep dark underbelly of Lumiere. Though considering this /is/ Lumiere, that's not exactly saying much. The face in specific is an interesting one. Twin red lights burn in the darkness at approximately nine feet above the ground, radiating an inner light that seems almost appropriate in this dingy, decrepit place. Indeed, for the first time since his emergence into the multiverse, the behemoth that calls itself Asterios is reminded of... home. It is not a good feeling. But there is a friend here. Asterios heard of Priscilla's and Kord's trips to this place. To leave them without his strength and assistance for too long would be remiss. The Concord has been good to him- and thus, he will be good for the Concord. Or, rather, he will try to be. "Because. It is," Asterios growls out, stepping across the threshold of the colossal gateway. If nobody stops him, he's apparently decided to take up a position in the party's van. After all, he can see just fine in the dark. But... "There is. Blood. Something bled here. Can smell it." "Careful," he calls to the others. As he advances, the enormous iron chains shackled to his arms and legs clatter and rake ominously across the ground. He turns his senses into the dark murk ahead. They must be cautious. They must be aware of the world that surrounds them. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     After the exhausting grind of the past couple of weeks, Priscilla is not happy to be back here. She had dedicated a frankly unusual amount of her time, effort, and on more than one occasion, blood to this venture, but the rapidly accelerating string of strange and incomprehensible events, cryptic clues, revolting circumstances, oppressively gross environments, and endless ambushes as they near the most intense, finally stretch of Lostrata, has been a lot for her to deal with.     Oddly, it is the presence with her that she had felt the other day, even if only just barely, that encourages her to return. She isn't totally sure why. It's not quite a feeling of safety and support. After all, she always has a bunch of other Elites with her. Perhaps, she thinks to herself without saying, she feels compelled by the idea that something or someone here is waiting for her. Relying on her.     And then she also has the unfinished business of the unpainted soul inside of her.     "Let us hope the gate signifies an end to the vileness of Lostrata, and that there shalt be others of its ilk; nothing more. I ill like the idea of such a strange addition being caused by something irredeemably unusual. One of the last things we wouldst need now is an irregularity so near the end of the path."     She actually peeks through the Crimson gate this time (though not before becoming invisible, as is the only safe and sane thing here), giving it a short look around on the other end to see where it leads. If it's as simple as the plaza, with nothing overtly threatening or wrong about it compared to last time, that's where she'll forge on. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' The terrain, the places they go tends to define precisely what kind of Warframe that any one will actually see out of Kushiko; in places where they might be headed here, Mesa would likely be a very good choice! Time will tell, however when it all came together. Nonetheless, sporting the cape-like syandana, a 'hat' helmet that made her look all the more like a Western gunslinger, Mesa was very well demonstrating the whole 'gunslinger' role that she oft took when this Warframe was in use. Both offensively and defensively, but time would tell which would be needed. She bobbed her head slightly once she saw Enark and Carna, as well as the others--making a disgruntled sound at Kord pressing ahead. <"One of these days, he's going to have to wait and he's going to just /explode/ with impatience."> Still, she can't quite fault him for wanting to advance--yes she feels the Fear here but at the same time it's the kind of sensation that switches on the hunter, the Tenno's instincts turning to one thing--hunt and exterminate. A passing 'glance' is given in Asterios' direction--the minotaur might see as the Warframe's expression being well--nothing. Wrapped up in some kind of weird synthetic thing, the eyeless battle construct swiftly moving past the open gate. There's Unlit--and more importantly, a Marble Guardian to find, twin elegant machine pistols drawn and readied. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "Maybe all the other gates are open and the first one was weird. Maybe every gate is different. We don't have enough data to tell." Staren observes to the fox.     To Asterios, he comments, "Really? Something bled? I would have thought most things here are too dead to bleed... Although, some places sure do have an awful lot of blood."     To Priscilla: "End of the path? Didn't Enark say there are like fourteen worlds to go through? It seems we've barely started."     Staren's back in his organic body today, inside his armor as usual. He's still not sure about potential long-term effects of just staying a robot. And since their objective today is the Marble Guardian, he too checks the red gate to confirm it at least appears to lead to where it did before: That's good enough for him. He'll proceed through, and even down the stairs to the Marble Guardian's lair, as long as others accompany him.     "Hellooooooo. Computer?" He calls, before going down. Also cycling his armor's wireless through various connection protocols to see if anything prompts a connection, somehow. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Carna gives Asterios a look-over suspiciously, but when he is deemed an ally rather than a threat, she seems to pay no further concern for him. Whenever Carna meets someone, she automatically slots them under a mental list of people to kill or people not to kill right now. Asterios falls under the latter. So he's okay.     Enark seems slightly more startled by the minotaur, though upon recognizing the voice from the radio, he smiles and bows his head in greeting. "Good to finally meet you in person. I am Enark. The anti-social one who took off ahead of everyone else is Count Kord, and this other anti-social one is--" he pauses as he realizes the person he is gesturing to is already on the move and headed through the Bleak Bone Gate after several other people go through without incident, verifying its safety. "...Carna."     He sighs and follows along. Asterios may wish to be at the front, but with so many other people running ahead, that may prove an obstacle. Enark, at least, seems to be comfortable not being the first one to be attacked upon encountering some new awfulness.     As Kord rushes through the Bleak Bone Gate, he finds that on the other side is... The place he just left? No, it's a little bit different. Still a vast dark area, with black marble expanse, with two gates. But across the impossibly far 'ceiling' of this place, a circuit-board-like pattern occasionally illuminates with the passage of some strange green energy, and the black floor, under any light source, is revealed to be inscribed with glyphs and runes. Further, there is a second Grim Bone Gate here. But both this one and the Bleak Bone Gate on 'this' end are flanked by pillars of some kind. The two alongside the Bleak Bone Gate have chains and restraints, blood stains and corruption mold on them, and the two alongside the Grim Bone Gate have the image of a child and a small animal reaching upwards on one pillar, and a semi-circle with a large, slender hand and arm extending down from it on the other.     This is definitely not the Mausoleum Entrance in Guillotine Square, but once everyone is through, the red gates click shut, and then open again behind them, and the new destination is that very hole they sought. So Kord has to wait a bit before taking off from the rest of the group. But he does get his chance to do so, bypassing the winding ramp of corpses turned to charcoal. The black ashes and charcoal dust rise up with each step those who can not fly take upon it, and it gives under their weight in places, but just enough to leave foot prints (or hoofprints!?). Still, the sturdiness of such a haphazard ramp is definitely a question on the minds of those who utilize it, right up until they reach the bottom. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Kord discovers it first, followed by anyone else who ran ahead without stopping to investigate that new space or make sure the rest are with them. There is no floor waiting for them at the bottom. They step off the ramp one at a time, expecting a short drop to a visible surface below, only to fall down only a very unstable, soft, and yieling surface. It wobbles and sways under them, threatening to dump them off at any moment. What was previously just a trace of blood is now extremely pungent, as is the intense choking stench of all manner of other dead and rotting things. At least bodily waste seems to be absent, and garbage in general. But that is little comfort when they realize they are standing on (or flying above) a huge lump of flesh and fat stitched together into a sort of meat raft, floating in a river of red slurry.     Providing their own light reveals even further horror in the form of the limbs, torsos, organs, heads and faces (intact, partially so, or otherwise) floating in this charnel river, and the fact that the air is so thick with blood that it has turned red. Every breath draws a red mist into one's lungs. Coughing it out is likely to be a recurring requirement in this place, growing ever more taxing the further in they go.     The ceiling is very low beyond this initial entry point, requiring crouching for the taller among them, and even the normal human-sized have to watch their heads, as it seems there are hooks, chains, and random dips in the ceiling for no discernible reason except to dissuade and maim flyers.     Enark is quite pale, and as he does not need to breathe except to speak, due to being Dead, he keeps his mouth tightly shut and draws not a breath. He will not be talking much in here, it seems.     Once everyone has arrived on this meat glob, it seems to just start drifting and moving down the river on its own, carrying them through the tunnel. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord does not land on the raft of meat. No, after he descends into the dark, and the blood nearly chokes his lungs -- not quite as bad as it could be, thanks to constantly wearing a face mask under that weird bird helmet of his -- he hovers above the ground with his wings manifest behind him, two large, flat appendages with claw-like digits on the ends. They don't seem to connect to him so much as manifest as translucent mass from behind his back, like a chunk of his soul was sticking out, so it might look a little strange.     It is probably a mercy for the others that the cramped quarters make sure that his silent flight over the sea of blood is slow enough to make out his silhouette ahead of the raft in the dark. He may also be taking it slow because he can't see past the surface of the blood beneath him, and because it stinks in here so bad he is having trouble keeping down his lunch. Which is a feat, for him.     He tries very hard to keep an eye on the red beneath him, because even the corpse bits can't be trusted. Healthy paranoia. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' The arrival of Asterios is something Finna regards with little ceremony. A simple glance over her shoulder in fox form, a sniff at the air, and she seems to be comfortable with his presence. The little fox *YIPS* at the horned man in greeting, but instead of bounding his way... she instead pounces off to the side and lands next to Enark.     Well knows the importance of this man to the cause. The only one with a clue about the place. Someone needs to stay near him and guard him... and protection is a Lunar specialty!     The vixen clamps her teeth on his clothes and gives a gentle tug for attention! Then politely but eagerly asks, "Scholar. Where is the moon?"     Anything to get her mind off of the gate ahead...     But she soon has to enter along with the others...     The moment the way back seals itself, she begins to growl ever so faintly, fur standing on end.     She has no problem with the ramp, her tiny footsteps far too light and bolstered with Lunar grace to burden it or even disturb dust - she's hardly even leaving any pawprints in the dust itself! How strange.     But never does she go too far ahead of Enark.     Onto the weird meat raft... at least once it's identified as such. Finna pokes and prods the thing with claws and her nose a few times, distrusting such a thing. But they have no choice. No choice but to... "Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeks! Stink's like a Great Terror's ass in here." No, it's not the pool of blood and guts and gore that bothers her. She's only slightly unnerved by Faces In The Yuck. What really gets to her is the smell. As the ride goes on and on... Finna starts to look a bit wobbly and ill. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     @Finna: "Wouldn't the moon be above the surface, wherever that is? If we can even reach it. This might be a simulation rather than some physical underworld."     Hmm. So now there's a second... gate room, for lack of a better phrase. Staren wonders what's out in the darkness. He should return with scouting drones later.     No reply from ther computer. Yeah, it'd be too convenient if he could just call it up and get some answers, wouldn't it? And then the marble guardian's lair... has jell-o for a floor? No, this is... flesh? Floating in who knows what? He immediately switches to internal air to avoid breathing blood.     "Are you sure you want to come in here? It seems... more hazardous than normal." Staren asks Enark, but then the raft FLOATS AWAY FROM THE STAIRS. Hopefully wherever they're going has another Shrine of Light or this is just gonna be a bad day. Staren sighs, holding a hand to his helmet, and moves towards the front of the raft. May as well see whatever it is they're floating towards. 

:'''{{#var:1137|Asterios (1137)}} has posed:''' Door Paralysis is a silly and unnecessary thing. It's a door. It's made to be passed through. If it wasn't, then it would be a wall. "Am... Asterios," Asterios answers to Enark and his... distressingly silent companion. "Know Kord. Already. And Prisiclla. Are... friends." Even if it might be one-sided. "Hope we can... also. Be friends." With that said, the minotaur proceeds ahead, a gigantic axe clutched in each hand. With a quiet grunt, he prepares himself for what lies ahead. A few moments later... The meat raft shifts and splashes in the bloody river as the giant makes splashdown. Asterios growls as the stench of blood fills his world. Even more, now, it reminds him of... home. But this place, the blood is so much fresher. There's so much more of it. And the thing underneath him, is... "...Meat." Asterios rumbles as the raft shifts and bobs. "So much... blood. Not good. Mmn." Crimson eyes glare out into the murk. He drops low, his mane standing on end as his heartbeat quickens. Kord is out in front. Everyone else is all around. Good. For now. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Well this is going to be interesting. As much as Kushiko may be moving to keep up with and be ready to do some fighting at any point, the terrain, the way things look, like the pillars, the gates themselves--that ... circuit pattern? Hnn. It's the kind of thing she makes sure her visual sensors on her suit properly documents before she continues on. At least until she has to wait a little, but takes time to briefly activate an ability of hers, twirling her guns briefly as energy blossoms like wispy tendrils from her hands. This makes a 'lasso' (as much as it could be said) of energy revolving around her, like a little satellite. It goes all the way in, then all the way out, providing a light source and buffing her own damage. Randomly, the lasso will jump a copy of itself to other people, but right now, it settles in a looping arc around Tomoe. In the meantime, her progression isn't as potentially hampered as much; the Warframe itself is a sealed system. Whatver organic components lie within do not require breathing, and oxygenation is handled by the technorganic aspect of it. As for actually progressing, given that the ceiling of the tunnel with the meat raft has a nasty ceiling, she's actually pretty glad she didn't bring along an Archwing delivery system to follow her down here; flying as he does might be a pretty big pain in the ass. But what she /can/ do is take advantage of her own prodigius dexterity and ninja skills to navigate off of the meat raft /using/ those chains to bound off of them and the walls, sometimes simply 'gripping' to the walls and parts of the ceiling like a spider. In theory. Either way, she's keen on keeping overwatch. <"No, not good at all,"> the odd, presenceless voice remarks towards the minotaur. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     When Priscilla's feet hit the squishy, revolting raft, rather than immediately gagging, grabbing her nose, commenting on the hideous sight, or questioning where they're going, the crossbreed instantly, /explosively/ sighs. Every day for the past couple of weeks, every time she thinks she's prepared for what is ahead, and the worst of it must be over . . .     "Lords I hate this place."     Priscilla takes a bit of time getting out a small cloth and a wad of what looks to be some kind of bright purple moss, fashioning a crude smog mask out of it, partially to ward against the smell a little bit, but predominantly for the very plausible chance that the air itself could be diseased or poisonous. She'd sit down to avoid all the random hooks, but she really doesn't want to touch the raft any more than necessary, and so just holds aloft Moonlight as a soft sort of intensely magical torch, brushing the dangling implements aside with its blade of magic as they go. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' While Tomoe is eager to fly here not that she can? Today is not the day for it not given this place. No that would be a very bad idea, she does however chast that small light spell she's prone to using before she goes further. Kord is ahead of her and then she sees it as she follows him in. Shelook at this place it's like a copy, but there's osmething else it's different something has almost tainted things here for lack of a better word in her mind. She wouldbe taking in the entance she would be on her guard and she looks upt, ya flying in here would be a very bad idea. "This ... ugg I should keep expecting things like this here." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Upon looking around the strange other place on the other side of the gate, and then finding the gate closing and changing destinations behind them, Enark was filled with apprehension. But it became even worse when they got down below. Carna ducks a bit, finding no reason to stand tall and risk losing her head in this place. Hopefully Kord doesn't try to just go ahead at this point by skimming the surface of the river to avoid the head-maiming obstacles on the low ceiling.     Enark covers his mouth, finding that his skin is already becoming coated in blood mist, and trying to blink it out of his eyes as it accumulates there and runs down like bloody tears, so that he can turn to Asterios. "Yes. A friend would be nice." he says weakly. "And it is good to see you with us again, Lady Kushiko. Your absence has been missed."     He tries to formulate a response to other inquiries while assaulted by all of... THIS. "The Underworld Moon floats above the next Plane, in its 'sky'. At least, that was the case the last I saw it. In the vision of the past we experienced in October 31st of this year, we saw some damage occur upon its surface simultaneously with the Death Of All Light. The moment when the--" he hacks and coughs for several seconds to get the blood accumulating in his lungs out. "--ugh, repulsive. This is really not the time, Lady Finna. My apologies." He then just focuses on their journey, the only sounds being their own voices and the gurgling of remains settling, and the thick flow of the red river below. Oh, and the occasional jangling of metal as Priscilla pushes aside what obstacles she can to avoid decapitation, eye loss, or similar. A hook through the brain would be an awful way to start this dungeon off.     Kushiko has to deal with the same jangling noises being produced when she messes with the chains, many of them covered in spikes, and any slip-up likely means a dunk in the river below as she leaps from red-slickened wall to similar wall.     Enark stays near to Asterios, letting what is obviously a much more prodigious fighter than himself take the protector role. Between him, Tomoe, and Priscilla, the Blue Scholar is the safest he can be in such a place, most likely. He does take a cue from Kushiko though and start placing shields of water around everyone, to protect against any sudden attacks. They serve the dual purpose of soaking up the blood in the air, though unfortunately there's so much of it that soon the shields become saturated as well, and they must view the world through a shimmering red film.     But that's scarcely different from what they were doing before, and at least now it isn't getting on their skin, or in their eyes and mouths and such.     He probably should have done that sooner.     As Kord and Kushiko are moving ahead, they may catch the faint echoes of things which really can't be called voices issuing up the tunnel ahead. Likewise for Finna, with her keen ears, and perhaps Asterios if he likewise has enhanced senses. Soon enough, they'll come closer to the source of it. It looks as though the blood river suddenly dips and turns into a waterfall (bloodfall?) ahead, based on the goopy roar and the way the horizon sinks, but there is a platform on the other side and a corridor with walls that lean inwards, and a ceiling that -- while lacking blades -- is just as low, if not lower. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     If they leap or fly off of this raft before they drop, they can make it into whatever area is on the other side. Though the closer they get, they will instinctively wish to go that direction less and less as the aura of Fear grows more intense. They still have yet to encounter anything hostile beyond the architecture.     Though in Lumiere, that's usually not been a good sign. It just means something terrible is probably waiting just ahead, and the longer it takes to get to it, the worse it will be. And from the now echoing sounds of screams and shrieks of the hungering Dead that echo through the corridor more and more, that pattern seems as though it will be carried out here.     In the light provided by others, there is only the gruesomeness already witnessed. In the light of Priscilla's blade... Likewise.     Though the people around her, save two, all seem altered to some degree. In Priscilla's case, it is not she who is altered, but her immediate surroundings.     Finna, in that same light, can see what Priscilla can. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:''' Red Trough (Moonlight) - <Lumiere> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------     The Red Trough looks exactly the same in the light of the moon as it does normally. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Contents Asterios <Hair Turned To White> Carna <A Hollow Shell Of Darkness. Stolen Light Within> Count Kord <A Man In Silver With Moonlight Hair. A Crown Of Black Flames> Enark <Exactly The Same> Finna <Shining Silver Tattoos> Kushiko <A Hollow Shell Of Darkness. Flickering Light Within> Priscilla <Snow Drifts Down> Staren <A Mechanical Hand Rests On His Shoulder> Tomoe <Blinding White> 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     As a matter of fact, Kord uses his armored hands to push chains and hooks out of the way as he moves. He does not, in fact, skim the surface of the river, just keeping ahead of the group enough to warn of any potential obstacles. And when they get to the end of the line, the blood dips down and presumably runs to something deep beneath them. He floats over the gap, glancing down into the abyss and silently hoping he doesn't see anything through the fog of blood it creates. He then comes up for a landing, but turns around.     Then he extends his hands outward and sweeps them out to both sides in that way a conductor might, and the shadows extend and solidify into a bridge. He holds his hands like that and hopes that they don't get the funny idea to try to cross all at once. He doesn't know if he could handle the strain of supporting everyone, as he's never tried to do that. "Walk across," he speaks up over the noise. "I can't hold this forever, hurry up." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     So the power seems to be working, but Staren's getting 0 bars down here. Mildly interesting.     Staren gets to the front of the raft to see... they're going over a waterfall. Bloodfall. Wonderful. He starts thinking about how to get people across, when Kord solves it. He charges across quickly, not wanting to tax Kord any longer than necessary. 

:'''{{#var:1137|Asterios (1137)}} has posed:''' Asterios is certainly large enough to serve as a protector. There's a sense of... Primacy about the goliath. The morbid surroundings certainly seem to be having less of an effect on him than they maybe aught to have on an ordinary giant. This is worse than home, he thinks. But it's still something that he can deal with. And then... The lights come on. Asterios blinks into the milky, moonlight haze. He peers around, eyes adjusting away from the murk and the dark. Things are... different, somehow. But murky. He reaches for a drifting cottonbud when suddenly something draws him out of his reverie. There's something up ahead. A sound like a tremendous beast. A sound that the Minotaur has never heard, and yet instinctively understands to be Bad. His eyes pierce through the darkness beyond the halo of silvery light and finds... Nothingness. And then beyond that, a platform. There's no choice here. Kord provides passage for some. Asterios... Asterios grabs hold of Enark under one arm. He bends at the knee, braces against the fleshy raft, and kicks off once the others have stepped onto Kord's bridge with a sound like exploding meat. The Minotaur charges across the gap and carries forward as the momentum pushes him onward. Something catches in his chest. A terrible sense of wrongness rolls over his awareness. Up ahead, there is... /wrongness./ "We are... getting closer. Be... careful." 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' <"We have kept Lumiere close to our heart,"> comes the Tenno's answer, somewhat apologetic. <"But affairs elsewhere have deprived us of our ability to help tend to the troubles here."> The glow from her 'Shooting Gallery' power jumps again, this time to Staren, revolving around him in a steadily contracting then expanding spiral orbit. The sheer depravity of meat and more is... well. Disgusting, but she doesn't lend the words to it, because she's seen some pretty horrifying similarity when it comes to say, the Infested, where that stuff is alive in ways that kindle a response here. The presence of the bloodfall is something she picks up on, and while the blade Priscilla draws also draws her attention from a 'hey that's new' to a 'oooh, shiny sworrrrd +__+' she can't spend too much time on the topic with the chains and more that she's trying /not/ to disturb before spies a more solid section of ceiling. She uses this precipice of a ceiling to launch herself horizontally in a flying leap--and literally flies. Or glides. More like a glide. Once she's landed, however, she immediately makes another gesture, activating another power solely because of that sensation of 'Fear'. It's not so much she feels and exhibits it directly--it gnaws at her in a way that like recognizes like. The voices, the sounds beyond--the whispers. Her forearms vent some kind of hissing mist, her entire body layered with some kind of semi-opaque layer. Something was ahead, something... beyond bad. She hesitates briefly, before pushing on, keeping her weapons leveled forward, and keeping an 'eye' on the others, since she can literally look behind herself at times without swivelling her head--her suit sensors are pretty good for that. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "Everyone keep your head down! Or lose it!" Finna bellows at the top of her lungs as the hooks and the mist get thicker. She's not totally out of it! The bloody yuck and the stench is oppressive to her limits, but...     With a display of focus and grit she gathers all her willpower and TUNES OUT her nose screaming at her. Regains her equilibrium. And just in time too! Because there's things to listen to...     "The next plane. After the Guardians?" She wants to be her usual chipper self, but as always, Lumiere's atmosphere is so oppressive and miserable that she just can't - and is instead quiet and passive.     Enark's sudden use of the shield is a welcome change though! She springs right up once she can get a breath of fresh air, unbothered by looking gazing through the film in blood-o-vision!     "Thank you!" She springs up briefly and delivers her thanks by licking Enark's cheek, and rushing off towards the front of The Meat--     Whereupon, she hears what's coming. "Uhohuhohuhoh!! Bad bad bad! We're gonna drop!" Finna is not willing to take a plunge. She is QUITE READY to shapeshift some wings, but...     Just in time for another of those weird moments where the light shifts, she glances around and ses...     Quite a bit about her fellows. The little fox blinks once or twice, and tilts her head back and forth most especially at ENARK during the brief vision the light brings...     She blinks a few more times and the moment is over. For the first time in ages she whispers a prayer to Luna asking for guidance... and then just HOPS up onto Asterios' head when he grabs Enark. She is not going to pass up THIS opportunity!     "Chaaaaaaaa----aaaaaa-----rrrr...ge." What begins as a triumphant, if slightly silly attempt to break the drudgery and delirium of the place dwindles off, choked down by the strange unknown fear that pervades her the further they go in this hellhole.     The moment they're landed, she whiiiiines to the heavens and LAYS DOWN on the Minotaur's head, curled up around his horns. "Stinks this is the only way we have to go! How are we gonna get back?" 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe is uncertain about Asterios but he's new a bit strange but really she can't talk given she's a six foot plus tall lady with pointy ears and wings. She does seem to be trying to size him up for what he could do in a fight, it would be good to know what he could do after all. She also made sure to keep Enark in sight as he might need to be covered should something jump them, which is likely to happen sooner or later. She's able to pres onward using her agility where need to make her way on, she does not have any vision as she progresses onward. 5R "I do not like this." She looks to Kords work and an idea hits her, light casts a shadow, right? So her wings flare out glowing brightly and she'll take flight, but not too high or too fast just enough to get over the bridge and hopefully angle it right so she actually helps the shadows Kord has made as she too crosses the river. "We'll figure it out when we get there Finna." She seems a bit amused as Kushiko gets across without much trouble as does seem to Staren. As for Piscilla? She'd be shocked if this slowed her down in the slightest. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Just the soft light of her luminous sword having this effect on Priscilla is cause for slight concern. At the very least, it doesn't seem to shift her into a completely different dimension, though this is one of those rare times she kind of wishes it would; anywhere is probably better than here. She can already easily guess the significance of Carna's, Kushiko's, and Finna's appearances, and Staren and Tomoe have explained some indication of why they would have their particular differences, but Kord's crown especially draws a stare that probably makes no sense to him, and Enark looking no different whatsoever is something, she hazards, possibly of great significance, but more likely just because he's the only normal soul here by her reckoning.     The sound of a waterfall is already starting to make her gut churn and her legs tense, preparing to jump it should the raft tumble, and hopefully land after it bobs back to the surface, having no desire to take that grotesque plunge. The sight of a door, despite its repelling aura of Bad and Wrong, lifts her spirits just slightly regardless. She doesn't even have to do any significant acrobatics to get there, with Kord's help. Asterios is highly thoughtful as usual as well.     "Mine thanks, Count Kord, and as well, Sir Asterios for thine thoughtfulness. It wouldst seemeth thou art already well prepared for this. More than I wouldst hath expected. I believeth thanks art likewise in order for Sir Enark, for the obvious." The water shield accumulating so much blood is mildly gross, but vastly less so than breathing it in.     They're not going to get anywhere standing around though, and heartened by the idea of seeing the moon on the next level up, Priscilla proceeds straight through the passageway. As usual, to prevent ambush she chooses to be invisible, but she leaves Moonlight alone, leaving a sort of floating blade of glowing magic to light the corridor ahead, without being a /super/ obvious 'here is an invisible person carrying a thing'. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Kord's shadow bridge is bolstered by Tomoe's light wings, allowing everyone to make it safely across. Carna leaps from the raft and rolls several times until she comes to a stop on the platform. She immediately realizes an environmental issue they will be dealing with, accented purely by how little space there is for people to leave the blood river area via. Kord occupying the platform on the other side of the bloodfall takes up roughly 2/3rds of the platform. There's simply not a lot of space in here, and the tunnel ahead reinforces that idea. She is quick to move out of the way so that others following after her are not held up or unable to jump across in time, but the fact that Tomoe strengthens the shadows by deepending them with her light wings provides enough time for each of them to get to the other side, even if it means squeezing past Kord at times.     But here on out, it seems they'll be moving in single-file procession. There just isn't room for anything else, except maybe in the case of their foxy companion. The way the walls are angled inwards, as though they are leaning towards them, makes the low ceiling even more of a problem because the least amount of space is around head-height.     Proceeding up the corridor leads to them coming to an intersection. The corridor they're in goes back the way they came and also directly ahead for an interminable distance. There is no light beyon what they provide. The intersection corridor is identical to the one they're in now, sans the blood river exit behind. There is no telling by sight alone which way is the 'right' way. Judging based off the Fear and its strength isn't even wholly reliable, since they don't know which passage will ultimately take them in the desired direction.     Picking one will result in more walking and more choices between identical corridors, over and over, no matter which way they go.     Though eventually, they start to encounter little deviations. Short flights of steps off the sides of the corridors, leading to small tunnels, near to the ground, that will require crawling through. Despite that unpleasant fact, they do seem as though they can accomodate all of those present, even Asterios. But the larger among them may have to crawl on their bellies, like soldiers in the trenches.     And still, as of yet, they have not encountered any hostile forces. At this point, combined with the aura of their target, the continued ABSENCE of ambush is starting to become more nerve-wracking than if they had actually encountered something. The fact that the echoes of shrieking fiends haven't ceased, barraging the ears and mind, does not help at all. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     So now, a choice. Chance one of these low-to-the-ground tunnels, or keep blindly choosing corridors while trying to navigate by what makes their hearts beat fastest, produces the most cold sweat, the most hair-rising sensations? Surely someone is mapping all this. Staren and Kushiko, for example. Carna is certainly taking notes in her journal, though she keeps turning her head this way and that every few seconds, checking that nothing has changed regularly in the midst of sketching and writing.     Enark seems content to remain under Asterios's arm up until the point where there is no room for such, and then walks like all the others, doing his best to refresh the water shields and slowly purge the blood from them, even if it means leaving gruesome puddles in their wake. At least the blood in these corridors is less bloody, but it's still been exposed to such for so long that the walls drip and are stained darkly.     This whole dungeon is just nightmarish.     It would almost be a relief at this point if there were something for Kushiko to blast, for Kord to shred, for Asterios to cleave, for Tomoe to sear, for Finna to sink her teeth into (or maybe not. Maybe arrows. Yes, that might be better), for Carna to impale with her cursed blades, or for Priscilla to murder the soul of, but there is nothing. Just the continuously building impression that the deeper they go, the closer they get, the worse it will be when they finally face something. The not knowing aspect, the WAIT for the inevitable, is growing to the point of becomign physically painful.     Throats constrict in tension, making breathing difficult. Without the water shields surrounding them, the combination of increasing panic and the air being thick with blood might be enough to reduce one to coughing fits, to drowning on dry(ish) land. Most intruders probably have faced that exact fate. All without any defenders raising a hand.     Enark can not help but appreciate the efficiency and elegance of this solution, even as he has to lean against a wall, feeling close to passing out. Except, unfortunately, passing out isn't something the Dead can do. So no matter how much he suffers, he'll remain conscious through it all.     That is what makes the prospect of a Hell-plane so terrifying. There is no 'off switch' for their awareness of what is happening to them.     And no escape from someone like the Crimson King who brought that hell to Lostrata. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "There will probably be a shrine of light." Staren replies to Finna's concerns. "Failing that, ... I guess we'll have to dig our way back up, or maybe I can get a connection and teleport us."     And then they come to a tight maze. Staren engages the breadcrumb positioning system AND his inertial navigation system, but he wouldn't be surprised if Lumiere somehow cleans up after him to thwart the former and warps space to thwart the latter.     After this continually goes nowhere, the constant fear sense, endless screaming, and endless corridors are starting to grate on Staren's patience. He starts trying to cut into the walls with energy weapons, on the reasoning that not only will it make their progress more mazelike, but also easier to track.     Also, just to see if he can, he checks for a connection again. If he can open the console and enter warp_party_to_quest_objective, so to speak, that'd be just swell. 

:'''{{#var:1137|Asterios (1137)}} has posed:''' "Aa," Asterios says to Priscilla at her compliment. "Thanks to Enark. For shield. For me, it is... nothing. Not really prepared. But. This place. Reminds me of... home. So I am... used to this. To me, this is... only a little worse than normal." Yes. This place is... Far too much like home for his liking. No. It's someone else's Home. As the party proceeds deeper and deeper into the maze, and the claustrophobic corridors close in all around them, the nature of that strange notion burning at the back of his mind becomes abundantly clear. This /is/ a labyrinth. It's not HIS labyrinth, but that does not matter. This place is /somebody's/ labyrinth. There is more than one 'Minotaur' here. The giant hunches over to try and squeeze through some of the tighter corridors. It works, but barely. He's used to walking like this. The low ceilings and cramped walls, the scent of dampness, mold, blood. The air of fear. The wandering corridors. It's all so familiar. For a moment, the crimson lights of his eyes vanish behind his eyelids. He takes in a deep breath. Since they had arrived, the minotaur's mind has been at work. With every step and every new crossroads, he has been adding to a meticulous mental map of their surroundings. He has been watching the walls, the slope of the floor and ceiling, memorizing their movements and carefully reckoning their position relative to where they have been before. It leads him to a conclusion. "Going in circles," Asterios rumbles suddenly. He turns, taking a step down towards one of those small corridors. He takes in another breath and bellows a tremendous roar into the darkness. Carefully, he turns his ear towards the yell, catches the echoes-- and the sounds of those screams in the distance-- and nods. "This. Way." "Better than... Wandering forever. Dying here." Asterios drops to a knee, and then to his belly, and begins shimmying into the cramped corridor. "Small, fluffy one," he calls to... Finna, apparently. "Go forward. Find paths. Use ears. Which way is loudest, that is where we go." 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Narrow corridors where one's single file--not Kushiko's preferred system of progression, not even by a long shot. The sounds make her all the more paranoid. She senses and ambush, she /feels/ an ambush coming, but more than that, and what's worse is she feels that whatever IS here might not care. If they arrive at it, whatever it is may well be supremely confident enough to let her and the others wander aimlessly. Couple that with the sounds of the shrieking fiends, and it's getting altogether too irritating to deal with as time goes on. Kushiko's making tunnel data as they take it on--plus a general mapping sensibility means they can at least rule out several tunnels. <"Rather not take one of the places where I can't properly stand up."> She can deal with tight spaces, but not SUPER tight. She erects another shield around herself to diffuse the pressure that's been attempting to afflcit her, continually as it has been. <"... are you good with mazes?"> she asks of the minotaur. She has no idea what a minotaur is, and while she has her guns drawn and keeping a watch on others like Enark, may as well ask. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord makes sure to go in /last/ because of his duty holding the bridge. He doesn't let on that he is way less enthusiastic about this little jaunt of theirs as they go along. He keeps his eyes and ears peeled for anything unusual... but is further unnerved that the deeper they descend, the more clear it is that he isn't getting the whispers of the Darkness down here. He had seen none of the hallucinatory images even of his allies, and that somehow made him more uneasy than before.     He startled when Asterios shouted, his stance hunching, his hands up as if ready to fight. He was dazing out for a second there, the terror in here throbbing in his head. He struggles past it, but he is not immune to its effects. He puffs a breath as he realizes the legendary Minotaur has discovered a way to progress. He thanks his lucky stars he didn't try to navigate this place himself. Eventually, he would've figured it out... but this is just faster.     "I think the monsters down here are... screaming in terror," he muses, "It's why the sounds keep going, their wills are not as strong as ours." 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe banishes her wings once she's across and everyone else has made it over, she still looks back once at the wings one last time before she makes ready to head forward single file she'll attempt to move up to the front given her general job of getting hits so others don't have to, still as they go ahead she take time to pay attention to her surroundings as she goes forward. There are no hostiles but the place does not bring her any comfort it's almost worst. What would keep the horrors that crawl about this ruined afterlife at bay? What would make those dead thing who have lost any sense of their minds afraid to go here? She's about to say something else when Asterios speaks up and pauses. "This is one hell of a maze but if you have an idea big guy? Let's go." She's willing to give this guy a chance she has to agree with his assessment as it beats dying in a maze, if he's got an idea. "So they are afraid, what would make those things /afraid/. The unlit have long lost their minds..." 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Once again, it's nearly complete and utter darkness for the gang! As conditions get cramped... she rises from her perch on Asterios' head moments before he calls to her.     She answers his idea with a short bark of 'challenge accepted' and vaults down to the ground. The fox does shiver in building fright, but...     But Finna's not going to give up QUITE this easily. Not when she has this many allies to watch out for.     Raising her head, with a mournful but determined screech she summons forth the Lunar power from within her. Her soul ignites with a cool flame that fills the tunnels - briefly - with the scent of a cool spring night and the damp sensation of fresh dew on the skin... although this might just be the mind playing tricks as it tries to perceive the raw nature of moonlight flooding the tunnels. The light streams from her body like a fire that cannot burn anything, a wafting aura that drifts about as she darts forward along the tunnels to scout ahead.     She's even brave enough to press her nose to the ground and sniff-sniff-sniff, though the fox remains silent - such is her focus for the moment! 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Staren's attempts to break the walls yield unfavorable results. The stone is resistant to damage, to say the least. And what marks he makes are quickly covered by the constant dripping of blood running down every surface. For all he knows, the walls might heal themselves after he leaves, just to erase even that much. This seems the type of place for it.     If the hallways were claustrophobic, the tunnels are thrice so. And in this place, every fear is amplified by that insidious aura that gradually blurs the lines between alien fear and one's own, wearing away bit by bit, just exhausting them through attrition. Inside those tunnels, however, are vents. Vents that look down upon darkness, and the sources of the screams. There is movement below, but it's hard to make out what it is. For those with nightvision, in the light they have with them, they can see that there is some ground below them, lines with many holes. Pits, perhaps. There are things moving in them. And there are bodies writhing on chains as they dangle above the pits, getting lowered slowly, or simply hung there. For those with perfect dark vision, they can see that the pits are full of Unlit, that the people on the chains are Lanterns, many of them horribly disfigured and butchered so that they could not escape even if they were not impaled on hooks. They must have been treated with the same preservative enzyme the others in the Chopping Grounds were, to keep them from dissolving into Dead Lights.     They are like bait, like carrots on strings, being used to keep masses of Unlit focused on them instead of trying to escape. They scream in pain and terror, especially when they dip a bit too low, and some Unlit successfully snags them, and begins to eat their feet and legs. Before their eyes, one Lantern gets so many Unlit pulling on them, that they are torn off their hook, the sharp thing just ripping up through their torso and out through their shoulder, and then they fall into the pit to be eaten and fill the bellies of the hungering Dead.     And the next body hanging is brought forth like a conveyor belt, to begin the process all over again.     Only some of the screams come from these Lanterns and Unlit. Worse than this may be lurking further throughout down there. Thankfully, they are nearing the end of the tunnel. Almost there, the sweet promise of escape, as the Fear urges them onwards towards desperation, terror pushing their pace of crawling, feeling pursued the whole way. Any moment now something is going to happen! Any moment now...!     But they make it out the other side, one by one, intact, if possibly quite shaken. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     And as they gather and stand there, they find themselves facing steps leading downwards... To a corridor identical to the one they just left when they crawled into that tunnel. The only difference it is is obviously lower.     This place really is a nightmare.     But a nightmare that might be coming to an end soon. For unlike the corridors they have passed so far, the presence they have been following against every instinct they possess, against their own body's insistences, steadily increasing to rival or match that which some of those present felt when facing the Crimson King of the past recently, seems to be directly ahead of them. As the walls seem to bend even closer inwards, pulsing as though they were breathing, a wave of purple and red and black radiating from the far end.     Like needles of ice, hitting them constantly, every pinprick unleashing new fear, new horror, new spine-chilling sensations. It gets to the point where Enark's eyes have filled with red from bursting capillaries, and blood beyond that in the air is pouring from his nose and mouth, polluting his own water shield. He has to fall onto hands and knees, unable to go any further forward. Carna gets to a point where the spike of fear is so intense she makes several leaps backwards, drawing her blade, and crouching down like a feral cat. She doesn't want to go this way.     Similar affects wash over everyone else.     Whatever is ahead of them is what they seek. But it is highly likely that no one here really wants to continue seeking it.     But after they've come this far, if they give up now, if they let this place beat them... Will they ever again be able to steel the nerve to come back?     They must make another choice. Continue, no matter what they are about to face, or flee, and maybe escape with their lives. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord follows, his heart thumping in his ears. Sweat beads underneath his helmet, and his hands flex and relax again and again. His steps are slow as he shadows the rest of the group... he keeps them in his view, and glances over his shoulder now and then. He does not look down into any vents, knowing that the masses of predators preying on each other is nothing new and it would only serve to burn another image into his mind for his nightmares to abuse. When the group gets to a set of stairs, and they have to come to a stop, he watched Enark collapse impassively, and he steps back when Carna hops back to stay out of her way.     He feels the alien fear wash over him. He feels his skin tingle and his heart go like a runaway motor. In his head, decades of terror flash by, image after image of mythical beings that almost killed him, of soldiers and cultists and brigands and more. He feels his blood run cold, and some part of him just switches off. He has catalyzed a very specific instinct for beings like this. Things that, in some cases, washed him with supernatural fear or confusion, that battered his mind, soul and body.     He lifts his heels, and he steps forward. Then he vanishes in a burst of speed. He bounces through the darkness, vanishing from sight, and ends up at the bottom of the stairs. He pauses at the bottom just long enough to be seen.     Then he crouches and bounces forward, shadows flickering like smoke around where he was just standing.     Kord learned long ago that the best way to conquer fear is to fight it. 

:'''{{#var:1137|Asterios (1137)}} has posed:''' This place is like... home. Home. But not. The Labyrinth, and yet not. The screams of the suffering below, the sight of the living consumed by the starving, these are not unfamiliar. These are not alien. This fear, this terror, these feelings are not new. Asterios has felt them before. Asterios has caused them before. In the days when he was not Asterios- when he was nothing more than a starved beast. As he stands in front of that passageway, he remembers it. He remembers all of it. What does a monster have to fear? For years and years and years and years and years and years, Asterios knew nothing of fear. Death was a blessing- rest from a lifetime of suffering, solitude and debasement. There is no fear of death. There is no fear of the Other. The Other was food. The Other was salvation. Now the Other is something else. Never something to be feared. There was only one thing in the Labyrinth which he feared. Asterios stands stock still as those tiny pinpricks of terror jolt into his nerves. It creeps through his brain, little sparks of fear criss-cross through his mind. His breathing quickens, a heavy, ragged, bestial noise in the otherwise still and stagnant air. His heart throbs in his chest. Blood surges through his veins, hammers against the inside of his ears- he feels-- He remembers-- The Minotaur's eyes blaze red in the darkness. A terrible, terrifying roar reverberates out of its throat, primal, dripping with blood-lust. It drops into a crouch, feet digging impossibly into the adamant material of this place and surges forward, building momentum with step after tremendous, earth-trembling step. The only thing that was to be feared in the Labyrinth was...                          --T H E M I N O T A U R--                           

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' What's that old saying, that the anticipation'll kill ya? The notion that such a thing is the intention is something that occurs to Kushiko as she traverses the tunnelspace, bringing up the rear, so she sees what the others are seeing, if 'seeing' is a weird thing. Disgust, and a growing sense of disquieted furor begins to wash over her--she doesn't have perfect nightvision, only lights cast by her Warframe and it's powers. Mesa's cloak is getting downright filthy with the blood here. <"More firepower might not have done it. And we can say this as someone who is capable of bringing someone that uses antimatter to bring the thunder."> she remarks to Staren in that weirdly ethereal way of hers. That said, as she progresses, she doesn't feel the instinct to do what Staren does, electing instead to conserve her energy. <"Reduce it, reduce everything to ash,"> she murmurs faintly. There's a moment thanks to the fear here that's making her wish she had brought Nova Prime, but perhaps it's for the best, given the terrain they've been in. She's not too dissimilar from Kord in regards to the reaction to fear--but the other problem is is that... Kushiko's not anywhere near a normal person, normal individual whatsoever. She was plunged into the nightmarish hellscape, that blinding light of her own world. It provokes unbidden, unknown memories she can't quite grasp. As she takes a few steps forward, something... strange happens. An uptick in Void energies surge from her--perhaps in response to Carna and Enark both suffering in ways that are beyond disturbing in the case of the Scholar, and perhaps expected for CArna. What they seek is here, make no doubt. But suddenly did Mesa just... drop, like a puppet with its strings cut. A twisting mass of something warps into being, coalescing into a body, huddled and curled over a roiling maelstrom of golden and lilac energy. When this... thing, this specter--wait, is it a child? Yes it is. Short purple hair, glowing eyes--no real irii to speak of, but she hovers, a reverbating sound tightening into a razor's edge as she /screams/. And when she screams, it's a cacophony as a radial wave, a shockwave of pure energy /intended/ to try to you know, buffer back the Fear--even for a little--the red misting, to create enough of a sanctuary point for people to regain their senses. It may not even last that long. But she needed to try, arms at her sides, an ephemeral cloak of transluscent light flowing wildly behind her. Every shockwave of energy had pressure behind it--even if it didn't /tangibly/ hit anyone forcibly, it was like trying to infuse air itself, fresh, clean air. Again, it might not work the way she desires. But she needs to make it work--calling upon the fact she existed as a borderstate---even if she didn't realize it herself, reaching in between the material and immaterial to buy everyone here/some/ kind of respite, releasing a half dozen of these shockwaves, half-domes of light outward before she'd be literally sucked back into the Warframe. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Forward they all go her wings flare back out a the light will indeed be needed, and thankfully they should not too deeply get in the way of the party progressing. She hears the screams, they are not people not but there's something down there, there are things changed, things suffering, and then there's the lanterns and she shudders, those who have their mind still? she wonders what they might be able to do for them if they have a chance, but every time she finds something here some new horror. Which her mind had not thought possible,yet for the moment she pushes on wards. The pain comes the dot damage comes, and the fear the level of fear that comes into her mind. When thinking about the likes of the exalted running rampant over her world and in desperation the people of her world deploying NBC weaponry upon them in a desperate attempt to stop them. She afraid she's feeling fear right now maybe the fear is because she's become the very sort of thing she's afraid of, there is no setting down the headset and walking away anymore. Then comes Asterios own roar, followed by Kushiko's own torment the shock-waves come and she attempts to do the only thing she can buff the party's ability to endure damage, to endure physical things, she can so nothing for the fear but she may be able to help with that. "Pulling out may be ... the best idea, I'm with you Lady Priscilla, we ned to ... get out." She doesn't really care how either. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Nothing Finna's seeing down below is heartening to say the least. She begins to make threatening clacky noises deep in her throat as she paces along, snaking easily through the tunnels given her tiny form.     Several times she freezes in place and has to exert a tremendous force of will to get her feet responding again. Shutting out what she sees after the first unfortunate victim's munched on. And the second.     She doesn't waste any time descending the steps. The building terror in her gut, she's finding a solution to. Sink into the animal mind, which has two responses to fear: fight, or flight.     And with no intention to flee, and nowhere to go but forwards anyways, she picks up the pace and starts snick-snorting impatiently. On and onwards!     This mental trick can only get her so far though.     She finally reaches a point where her body shuts down and all her instincts scream too loudly for them to be just simply suppressed. Shivering, she drops down onto her belly and starts edging backwards, making quiet noises of whimpery protest.     The roar of Asterios shakes her out of the trembling, though only because it gives a substance to the fears. With a terrified shriek she bursts into a panicked skitter-dash--     AWAY FROM ASTERIOS AND STRAIGHT ONWARDS! 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "We should've just got more firepower and dug our way to the Crimson King." Staren mutters as they crawl through tunnels. Upon finding a vent where he can see lanterns being eaten alive, Staren stops to start cutting through the vent, with a plan to burn the unlit. Someone staying a little cooler under the fear aura stops him, fortunately... But still, Staren lets anger rise in him. It can help fight the fear. This is the second time now he's gone a place with a stupid fear aura, after this he's seeking out a proper preventative.     They at last come to an opening, with a little room to breathe, and maybe to think. "...We're here on his terms. Under the effects of this stupid fear aura. Maybe we can beat him anyway, but I'm not sure we should accept such a disadvantage. We should come back, with elites who can mine through this shit and protect us from this STUPID fear. Or a remote-controlled drone with a nuclear bomb. We're probably not thinking clearly, there's probably a better solution than that and I could think of it if not for this GOD DAMN URGH! Fucking fear field! We'll annihilate this idiot. Turn him to nothing. He doesn't deserve a quick death, but everyone else deserves to be quickly rid of him."     Still, he's sure not going to be the only one to turn back. If everyone else would rather press on, he'd rather fight together with them. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Throughout the maze, Priscilla has been doing her best to help, marking the way with ubiquitously carried prism stones in the good old fashioned Lordran way. Even if something can muck about with software or spatial consistency, physical stones will stay where they fell inside the hallway, so if they loop back around somehow, they'll still be there. The glittering things have a very subtle, perhaps very faintly supernatural way of providing that consistent guidance.     Unfortunately, Priscilla does not have any especially useful protection from the oppressively /smothering/ aura that drives them back, save iron will forged from swallowing this kind of terror time and time again. Like a mildly acidic river it slowly erodes her willingness to continue, not quite penetrating her mind, but grinding away and dissolving the perpetual shell of frosty conviction and indifference around her heart. Of course, its beating is actually irrelevant to her continued existence. The vital organs of a half-dragon are practically vestigial, so even when her pulse fluctuates dangerously, and her breathing becomes far too shallow to sustain a human being, she can physically soldier onwards.     Very briefly, she regains a small surge of confidence when Staren stops to bomb the Unlit. She had intended to shut out the sight, suppress the screams, and just keep moving, and hadn't even thought of interacting with yet another one of Lumiere's grisly set pieces, but when the catboy starts seriously trying to incinerate the monsters writhing in their pits, she actually stops and gives him a very nervous, and incredibly forced smile, but one she obviously is intent to show despite that. "Thou art surprisingly thoughtful at times, Sir Staren. I admire that thou art able to thinketh of such even when so greatly concerned otherwise, for the slight good it wouldst do them." She really means it. It'd taken her by surprise.     She is, however, in agreement about goddamn bailing on this hellhole and coming back better prepared, even when potentially given the chance to shelter within the bubble created by Kushiko. When her Mesa frame collapses to the ground, she has to stop and make sure the operator is alright, and attempt to clear her head.     "I am in agreement. This is something I wouldst ill wish to challenge so totally unprepared as we-" And then Kord and Asterios just fuck off down the tunnel anyways, overcoming the supernatural terror with pretty much sheer spite. "Lords damn the both of them." Priscilla huffs, absolutely (highly figuratively) not being paid enough for this. "If thou hast any means to extricate us, even if it wouldst taketh an entire small Warpgate, do so. Either stay with our disabled companions, or carry them forward, as I will not abide leaving them stranded in the midst of this. If absolutely necessary, I wish that Sir Enark and Lady Carna carry Lady Kushiko to safety. I must ensure the safety of mine own subordinates." Then, Priscilla has the pretty terrible job of chasing after the two. Especially Asterios. He's never been here before, and that might not work out well with how many godawful surprises Lumiere takes such glee in throwing at people. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark can not go forward any further. Physically can't. As Carna looks upon him, and then upon those who push forwards, feeling the warring instincts of survival and drive to consume the power before her, she has to make a choice. While she tracks her crimson eyes to Asterios, reconsidering whether this is someone to keep in the 'don't kill right now' list or not when she realizes the threat posed, Enark coughs blood out of his lungs, and it is no longer just what he inhaled from the air.     The noise grates on her already-freayed nerves. Only her nature as a Lantern has kept her plugging along beside everyone else. She is used to fear. She always fears. There is not a moment that passes when it is truly absent. Paranoia and suspicion are rampant within her, egged on by the voices of the Darkness that she has always ignored. Unlike Priscilla and others who shut it out from the start, not listening doesn't make it go away for her. That would be too easy for those supposedly destined to reach the World of Ashes. There is too much vested interest in her succeeding.     But the sound of Enark's wretching is a sound she can't block out. Amidst all the screams, the bellowing of the minotaur, the skittering of Finna's paws on the stone floor, the scream of the mysterious child who has appeared (one of the visions the others have reported seeing? Though it seems to be tied to Kushiko's actions) that shrouds her and Enark in an aura that rebuffs the Fear a bit... And Staren's highly relevant suggestions of retreat that Carna wishes she could follow. Priscilla, as well, ordering a retreat at this point, wishing at least for Kushiko to be pulled to safety, only to have to run off after those who went ahead... Retreat seems like the most sensible course of action. A decision of sense made while assailed by unreasoning fear, however, is suspect. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Carna trusts no one, even those she awkwardly calls friends, out of a desire that such will become real by her saying. Those she has some unfamiliar feeling of... Importance for, that she does not have a name for the emotion concerning. Is it fondness? The friendship she wishes for? She doesn't know. She sees Enark and Kushiko. They are already two down and they have not even reached their opponent yet.     "...If we leave now, after coming this close, and convince ourselves that flight was the better option, we may convince ourselves further in the future that coming back here a second time, or ever again, is likewise no in our best interests. This is a challenge. Either to stop us or to test us. That is what we have been told." She hefts Enark up, Kushiko's (she's assuming) void powers helping him to stand and push forward again despite the effects he has suffered. "We must proceed." she says emphatically.     Then Enark says weakly, "W-wait. I am... Still of use here. I know that I made a promise, but..." He releases his own water shield, creating a puddle of water and blood on the floor, and then places his hand in the mess. Then he sends a grid of power through it, isolating just his own blood, and gathering it together into a crystalline shape. He draws it up like a conductor at an orchestra, encouraging it to form into a replica of a Shrine of Light. But this one gives off no light. It is simply blood and water, turned to solid.     "I do not know if this will work, but I turned a mimic of a shrine into a functioning one once before. If I turn this into a mimic and then slay it, perhaps I can provide a means of egress." the scholar offers.     In the absence of their leader, who has run off ahead, Carna looks back at Staren, the other smart one here. It was his idea in the first place. She gives the order. "Do it. Do not wait for us if we do not return, or if Lady Kushiko does not recover."     Such heroic words might be expected of an Elite. But for someone like Carna, who always prioritizes her own best interests, any form of deviation, let alone one to such a degree, is highly unusual. So is when she too runs off after the others, pushing through the alien presence as best she can, despite the ravages of her body, until she emerges into the room ahead... The space at the end of the corridor that others have no doubt already reached...! 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Another unexpected fall. Another disgusting landing. Though this time, there is no meat raft to meet them as they pass out of the darkness and into the blinding light -- blinding only due to its comparison to the darkness they have travelled through so far. The rotten blood and scummy film about the surface is already waist deep for Carna when she lands in it. Less so for the taller among them. Thare insects, flying, crawling, and waterborne, and perhaps worse, in abundance. Things definitely move and brush against her legs below the surface, startled by her sudden arrival.     The smell of blood here is, if possible, worse than the river they entered upon. The walls are running thick with blood and a congealed, yellowish substance intermixed, as well as many shades of black. It drips from the ceiling in a constant rain, like on that night that they went to the Palace in October, that only Kord saw but all could smell.     There are a row of paintings upon one wall, salvaged from somewhere. All of them bear scenes of a different world, a different time. A painting depicting a forest within which Gastlys roam, with a silhouette missing in the shape of Kord. One of huge black mechanical spiders with skull-bodies, and a likewise missing silhouette of a boy with cat ears fleeing among humans and non-humans of various descriptions. What is distinctly the Wyld, colors and shapes blending together through some optical illusion so that even in stillness, it seems to be in motion. A fox is gone from her perch upon a boulder within. A scene of a girl seated amidst wires and screens, as absent as in the other paintings. A painting of a library of immense scope, and a single man's missing silhouette upon a recliner that, they have seen, was a Mimic by the time they first met it.     The only painting not there is one of Lordran. But they already saw where that one ended up.     Someone has a collection in this den of horror and death and rot.     Who? The Crimson King?     He was said to have been killed... To have endured a second death, like that he had tried to inflict upon so many.     For those who do not know that story, for those too consumed by the monster within them that makes them ever bit a terror as the other things they have witnessed here so far, maybe none of that matters. Maybe it is simply beyond them to care or to analyze.     But the thing that sits upon a toppled throne, half-sunk into the blood pool, at the far end of this hall... The thing made of blood, without even a semblance of a unique person to it, beyond the vaguest outline of a humanoid frame... The thing with a stained golden crown shining with a cruel beauty in the single shaft of light that comes down through a hole in the ceiling above... 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     ...Is definitely not the Crimson King.     For a moment, the Fear aura lapses. The shock of no longer being on the edge of one's nerves is like being splashed in the face with ice water. But then the passive aura that has been roiling outwards from the creature, ceased in a moment of surprise at the new arrivals, returns re-doubled as it rises from its seat, curtains of blood running from its arms like sleeves, and the faint hint of brows, of sockets, stand out in fury through its mask of red.     A mask exactly like Kord's.             MARBLE GUARDIAN             SHADOW OF THE SECOND VAMPIRE KING 
}}

5571/Scholarly Pursuits

2018-02-02T04:26:39Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/11/15 |Location=Elysium Apex |Synopsis=Count Kord has a theory. That it was mimics. And they are walking with us, such a total nightmare. E..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/11/15
|Location=Elysium Apex
|Synopsis=Count Kord has a theory. That it was mimics. And they are walking with us, such a total nightmare.

Enark has a theory. That it was paintings. And he's a real boy, wait, something isn't right there.
|Cast of Characters=954, 974
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     It would've been abundantly clear that Kord wanted to talk to Enark... because he would receive a hand-written letter delivered via weird masked cultist to show up between a given span of time at his office in the Elysium Apex. He apparently has an office, being a Hand of the Concord. He's rarely seen doing anything but be an edgy weirdo, so this may be a strange change of pace.     Kord figured he might appreciate something more... official.     Kord's office is not lavish. It's way more intellectual than that. He has his main desk against one wall, with a neat stack of papers, a few odd crystals sitting on it, as well as an ink pot and a quill pen. There are a few maps of Bayern, his home State, on the walls. The seal of Dragoni is stamped on a large piece of parchment that hangs on the wall parallel to the door.     "Rrrr..."     Aas the Murkrow sits on a perch that puts her at eye level, so she can properly leer at visitors. She puffs up her feathers if looked at for too long, but generally stays quiet except for the occasional click of her claws as she adjust her footing, or ruffling as she preens herself.     Kord is seated on a comfortable chair behind a small hardwood coffee table, and there's another chair nearby to the side. The chairs aren't quite aligned with the walls, giving a more haphazard feel to that part of the room.     The red-haired man has tied his wild hair back as much as is feasible with a few leather straps, and he's wearing a black suit with a red shirt beneath it, a pair of shiny black shoes on his feet. Clearly modernized formal attire. His hands are visible... well, claws, you could call them. The red and black skin and the black claw-like fingers clutch at a cup of something steamy and herbal scented. His tail is draped over the arm of his chair, the end swaying and twitching like a cat's tail.     Is that... is that a little garden at the edge of the room? He seems to be growing some vegetables in here. It gives the room a damp, earthy smell. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark was in one of the dining areas, going over the books he and others retrieved from the Library of Murdered Knowledge. He has come across a lot of information he is still trying to parse, as well as some very disturbing implications he had wanted to verify against other material before presenting to the rest of the Concord. He has also been compiling notes on all of their explorations and encounters so far, for later publishing. This, on top of his research into various samples taken from Lordran that he is trying to gain answers about, have consumed much of his attention, to the extent that he's been absent from recent explorations in Lumiere.     Though, honestly, who would WANT to go back to the Chopping Grounds of their own free will? Not him, that's for certain.     When he gets a message delivered by a masked person (scarcely a new phenomenon. Seems like half of everyone he has met in Lumiere wears some form of mask or helmet or something), he looks it over, thanks the messenger, and then starts collecting his things and taking some last notes before the specified meeting time.     Upon arrival, he knocks politely at the door to announce himself, despite it being open, a modern tote bag full of books and such over one shoulder clashing with his archaic blue robes... Except wait, no, he's also wearing some more modern clothes as well! Just as seeing Kord out of his usual get-up can be striking, it is similarly jarring to see Enark in something other than robes for the first time. It's nothing too unusual or fancy, just a nice blue suede suit with a white undershirt and shoes of a similar hue to the suit. His hair is combed back and the long strands at the rear are tied in a low, brief ponytail of sorts.     He says relatively cheerfully, far more comfortable in this social environment than the gloom and doom of Lumiere, "Good day, Sir Kord. You asked to see me?" He does have that mild apprehension that seems to follow him everywhere, but given how long he has been in the land of the dead, dealing with its threats, that is understandable. He takes a look around as he steps into the office, finger-waving with one hand at the Murkrow. Perhaps she reminds him of a friend who is presently still missing.     Maybe he just likes birds. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     "Count," Kord corrects with a dull neutrality, "It's good to see you show up at all, Enark. Some people are afraid of me, so I never expect to have a summons answered. Could you ever imagine why?"     He smiles at Enark. His eyes wrinkle with mirth. His inhuman eyes, with black sclera, pale blue irises, and white pupils. His mouth pulls into a cheerful grin... a grin full of his sharper, inhuman teeth. He looks like a demon, with the pale skin offset by his vibrantly red hair. His apparent youth may not help matters. "Sit," he says, gesturing to the nearby chair. Whether Enark sits or not, the door creeeaks and clicks shut behind the scholar, following the motion of Kord's hand. Some shadow-based tomfoolery, there.     Aas closes one eye and makes a soft 'rrrr' noise at Enark. She seems mellow today.     "I once accused you of being a construct, Enark," the man begins, "And you have not fully convinced me otherwise."     "Please, sit down, and explain a few things to me. I am deeply curious about some specifics."     "There are a handful of ways to destroy a Dead soul. Priscilla can do it, whereas I cannot. Lanterns and Unlit can destroy the Dead. And then... the unpainted copy of me, the one that attempted to strike you down, stabbed you right through the middle..."     Switching gears, he comes to a nagging thought, "You didn't bleed, Enark. Is that normal for the Dead?" He sips from his drink after that. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark seems unbothered by Kord's appearance, or perhaps too polite to show evidence of such if he is. It's not the first time he has seen his ally without his mask, though there was little smiling to be add under those past circumstances. "Ah, Count then. My apologies. I was not aware you had a specific title. Perhaps it is your standing that intimidates? Or, more likely, there are those who do not know you as I do, and judge merely off of appearances or reputation. In either circumstance, I am merely glad to be able to interact with you all outside of Lumiere without some crisis hanging over our heads. It's always refreshing to be able to see the sun again, to taste good food, to smell the scents of life..." He gestures off-handedly towards the garden.     He turns, distracted for a moment when the door closes behind him, but then turns back to face Kord. It's probably just an automatic door. Such were common in his era before death. The technology level of the world is markedly more primitive than the one he left behind when he died actually. He is in the process of seating himself when Kord brings up THAT topic. His cheer dims noticeably. He resumes getting situated, though with more caution than before, putting his bag down alongside the chair.     He sits pensively and listens. Eventually, he says, "You made such an accusation, yes. I would not say that you are incapable of killing the Dead. You have succeeded many times against Lanterns and the Unlit. Destroying a soul is merely... Very difficult. And the Lit ARE their soul, as opposed to merely being the receptacle for such. As such, we are strongly influenced by our memories and experiences of life. Generally speaking, it takes quite some time for us to work out all the baggage from before death, tire of the frivolities of a watered-down version of life, and move on, changing into something less like our living selves."     He folds his hands in his lap. "I think that you have within you the potential to slay the Lit. Not with unusual powers or forbidden weapons, but by understanding. Unfortunately, you will likely have to gain this understanding through experience. And compared to Lanterns and the Unlit, we Lit are very few indeed. Even if you were willing to utilize what amounts to vivisection, to become like the very Crimson King we met an echo of, I would not be enthused with that endeavour, for obvious reasons."     He looks up again, and says, "I have thought about your accusation. And to answer your question, while it is not necessarily common, there is precedent for the Lit not demonstrating all the qualities of a living body in death. Specifically, those whose mental image of themselves has been so radically altered, that their spirit changes to match. This would generally come about either through extreme trauma or a great epiphany. Those who have journeyed above, to the Candles beyond Lostrata, experience the latter. I believe that I bled in the past. When you all captured me in Escher, in fact. But I can not be certain of that."     He turns in his seat to reclaim the bag he set down, struggling to unzip it as he speaks. "Whether I did then or not, that I did not bleed this time indicates something has changed within me. That my mental image has been altered. In Lumiere, the mind can influence the body far more drastically than in the Living World. It is one of 'those things', like names having far greater significance than merely what one is called by." He finally gives up, and just picks up the whole bag, drawing it into his lap. "That is the best explanation I can give. And if you require further evidence, I can point you to the Stone Devils, and the children they once were." 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord has a patient smile on his face. There's plenty of information to be picked at, and the very slight way his head tilts as the specifics of spiritual morphology are explained to him brings a thought to him. It's clear that something about that occurred to him immediately. When he's told that he would have to copy the actions of the Crimson King, his eyes lid shut and he flexes and unflexes his hand. Then he takes another sip of his tea.     He calmly sets down his cup, and then he leans over and calmly plucks Enark's hand up with his own. His claws exhibit a practiced pressure, not quite squeezing hard enough to hurt. He'd try to hold Enark's hand palm-upward, and place the tip of his claw against the palm of his hand... not quite puncturing.     The patient smile and those alien eyes fixate on the Blue Scholar's face.     "Just as the soul changes to suit how one sees themselves, or how the world forces it to be, I have taken my own name of my own volition," he explains calmly, "My real name is Jakob. I simply wanted to live a happy life, and be accepted, once. Can you imagine how many times I had to be rejected before that warped my perceptions of myself?" He is strangely calm about it. The trauma is old to him, and become so ingrained that it doesn't seem to affect him... at least, his face doesn't betray it.     The claw pushing against Enark's skin threatens to breach it.     "I can't help but wonder which is true, now that you have said that: Enark, the Blue Scholar; or Enark's Mimic, struggling to pretend to be him after consuming his Light. You sure seem quite durable, and lucky. The only Scholar to survive in the entire Library. Perhaps you weren't. Perhaps you have turned other Blue Scholars into mimics, and they are struggling with their own madness right now."     "I did not survive in the wilds on my own by going mad, though that almost happened more than once. Hunger, loneliness... It does cruel things to the mind. I survived by becoming dangerous. Hardened. I survived by being a scarier animal than the ones that wanted to eat me. So, Enark. How did you survive, when even your own creations wanted to eat you?"     He doesn't seem intent to hurt Enark. What he's doing is trying to spook him, watching his reactions to this odd behavior, and trying to conquer his own doubts about the scholar's nature. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark arches an eyebrow when his hand is taken, and frowns when he has the claw pressed into his palm, but though he does not try to pull away or anything, his anxiety level is increasing as Kord does all this weirdness to him. Perhaps there is cause for fearing him after all if he's going to act so strange. But as of yet, Enark is still unharmed, and Kord has fought to protect him many times. So he decides to trust, even if he does not much care for the topic of conversation.     He listens to Kord's tale... Or rather 'Jakob's. But any thoughts he might have about it are somewhat preoccupied by the poking and prodding followed by yet more accusations. Enark starts attempting to withdraw his hand, furrowing his brow. "So that's what this is about." he says darkly, successful or no. "I am sorry that happened to you, Count Kord. Despite your doubts, I know what that isolation and desperation is like. It pushed me to create the very Mimics you accuse me of being, despite the risks. I, too, had to make myself dangerous, if only by extension. However, I confess that the reason I remained intact is much more shameful than I care to admit, though nothing like what you have suggested."     He looks Kord in those inhuman eyes, despite his social awkwardness making it hard to maintain eye contact. "I hid. I hid myself away in a single, barricaded room, and that white space where physics are altered, using my keys to open doorways and avoid the traps I had laid. I did not try to leave. I did not try to explore. I never tried to help anyone, or find out if there were any other survivors. I took care only of my own well-being. My experiments with creating company for myself, humanoid mimics, were a failure."     He scowls, though whether at Kord or in self admonition is unclear. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     "As you saw, they did not even look like people except in the crudest sense imaginable. Further, at the time they were utterly unresponsive. Whatever has become of them now to make them hostile as well, and further to attempt to create their own mimics, I feel it must be an alien influence. For that was not part of my design when I made them."     He shakes his head. "In short, I was a coward, who hid himself away from any possible threat. And that is what kept me from being devoured for the past however many billions of years, going through cycles of madness, over and over, trapped in the same space, my only refuge the books I had read countless times over, and the spaces I could journey to through the portals in Escher for a change of venue. Fear kept me safe. What the Crimson King wished to instill upon we Dead, so that we would seek to preverse ourselves, succeeded in keeping me from harm, even if long after his own second demise. But this fixation you have upon mimics and your accusations... I realize now what this is really about."     He glares at Kord and says. "I never took you to be the jealous type. But it seems that you just can't stand the idea that I could have survived far longer than you did, all on my own, merely through my own ingenuity and knowledge. That I could be your superior in some respect, and find a different way than what you had to go through. Well, let your envy be laid to rest. I have laid bare how I did what you could not. Without personally engaging in any violence, any domination of others, or seeking personal power, I survived by hiding. You may call me a coward if you wish. That is what I was then. Perhaps I am even now. I have spent much time harping on the subject in my mind, feeling guilt that I stand behind others when we go out to face the enemy, my only benefit to the group being my support spells, my healing, my occasional poisonous blast, and the fruis of my scholarly pursuits."     He slings his tote bag over his shoulder, apparently intending to leave soon. "A step forward from refusing to even leave my study, but probably nothing compared to what you have endured. So, sound the trumpets, you need not feel yourself my inferior any more. You are stronger and braver than me. Though, for the record, I only ever successfully made a single mimic who could act like a person. And wherever he went, he chose not to stay by my side, so even he must have been disgusted with my cowardice, and chosen death over spending an eternity in my presence."     He shakes his head. "I can not turn a person into a mimic. A mimic is just an object. Less of a person even than a Lantern. The template for a person must be applied over one in order to even attempt to make it act like a human, and by the time I had advanced to that point, there was no one else left to copy. Now if you don't mind, I have studies to return to. You can go back to gloating about being better than me at your leisure." 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Though it was confusion that spawned Kord's own curiosity, disbelief over the man's cowardly behavior and the search for some kind of answer there that he couldn't otherwise see. He knits his brow, and his smile begins to fade, but it isn't anger in his face. He slowly releases Enark's hand, and leans back, silence and an odd tension in his appearance. He had been affected, because this was a form of rejection he hadn't really seen coming. He didn't feel that way, but such a feeling was superimposed on him, giving him a sense of nauseated unease.     In a way, Enark got the root of it, even if he missed the exact nature of the man's feelings.     "Jealous?"     He reaches up to rub his cheek. His red stubble is scratchy under his palm. Scritch scritch.     "Enark, you are a genius. You have the ingenuity to survive above so many others, even if you could not fight anything directly. Just the fact that you persisted long enough for rescue to find you... It's remarkable. I have seen stories of the wonder the living ascribe to survivors with only a fraction of your cleverness."     "How to phrase it..." He bends over to pick up the cup, and settles back in his seat.     He grins.     "I think it would be 'cool,' if you had figured out how to place your will into something even an Unlit would struggle to kill," he explains. "I get... enjoyment out of the idea."     "I carry no envy of you. I'm just a madman entertained by how different you are from all of the, well, now scattered Lit that once populated Lumiere. The more different you might be, the more FUN you are to be around. So... if I'm wrong, I carry on with my life anyways. I just don't want to be wrong in this case, because it's boring." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark looks confused, searching Kord's face for a reaction that apparently isn't coming. Slowly, he looks down. His face would be flushed with embarrassment if he had the circulation for it. As it is, he looks deeply ashamed. "I... Am very sorry for placing such an accusation against you." He settles back into his seat after seeming to be prepared to leave the moment he had his hand free. "Perhaps my own feelings of inferiority towards all of you, my own shame for my inability -- nay, my refusal to even TRY to help anyone else during all that time, have festered more than I had realized. As I said, I only succeeded once. And while I know there is a memory I am missing, a span of time among all the rest of importance, I grow increasingly concerned it involves my duplicate... Well..."     He looks to Aas, as though momentarily worried she serves as some kind of spy for otherworldy forces, and leans in closer to Kord. "Count... Or Kord. Or Jakob? Whichever name you prefer. The mimics I made, the attempts at recreating the Blue Scholars. They did not possess the knowledge of creating mimics. That level of sophistication simply was not there. Nor was the ability to cast spells. That they can do both now means, I believe, that someone taught them. And I have a theory about who did."     He places both palms flat on the desk. "I think that the perfect mimic, the duplicate I made of myself, left at some point, and found the painting that Lord Tharmas created. There has been something that has long bothered me about our journey within the Painted World of Alouette. What Queen Priscilla's Unpainted version explained to us of how it worked. She said that every time we died in there, Lumiere attempted to resurrect us from our template, from the 'us' that first entered that place. It is a reincarnation device that works endlessly all on its own. It can not STOP trying to bring things back. However, as none of you are native to Lumiere, it did not have a soul to bring back, as a Lantern or an Unlit or anything. So it just kept bringing the same people back, over and over, rather than allowing us to pass on. However, I AM a native Dead of Lumiere. And I was the only one who I never saw any remains of within that... Chasm."     Enark presses down even harder on the desk, until his already-pale fingers go paler. "I think that the 'Unpainted Enark' was there, that my mimic was eaten by him, and the mimic's knowledge and powers were used to extend its reach out of the Painting and into that 'Grand Gallery', corrupting the existing, imperfect Blue Scholar mimics, using its painted blood to control them, and seek out more lives to take in... More worlds beyond Lumiere that it can copy into itself."     Enark looks carefully at Kord, desperately trying to make up for his faux pas in accusing one of his allies of thinking such low thoughts of him, by sharing a theory he has kept hidden for fear of its implications. "Sir Kord... I think Unpainted Enark is the World Mimic. I think that there were no remains of me, because every time I was recreated, it would eat me whole, to multiply its power over Time and Water and Mimics, and then kill the rest of you so that it would start all over again. And I think that, regardless of Unpainted Staren's plan has any merit whatsoever, the best way we can sabotage it is to kill the abomination that was once meant to be me." 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Aas looks back at Enark, and makes an uncomprehending bird noise at him, since his glance seemed purposeful but he produced neither food nor attention for her. She decides to resume preening herself while Enark apologizes to Kord and the full truth of his feelings comes to light.     Kord looks impressed with Enark, brows lifted up happily. The scholar has quite a theory about the World Mimic, covering a nature of it that hadn't been considered before now. He raises his hand and scritches his chin, and ponders that sort of thought. He does have a counter-thought toward Enark's reincarnations not showing back up -- there just never was a scenario before the 'real' selves showed up where he accompanied them -- but it holds some weight. Lumiere's purpose solidifies in his mind, and a few gears apparently click into place for him from all of his exposure thusfar.     He wags his finger at Enark. "There we go. You did something amazing... and now you get a chance to help us make real progress. Perhaps it has catalyzed an ingredient we need to fix this mess. Perhaps in its destruction we will find the renewal we're looking for. If we kill it, perhaps it will help jar loose a piece of Lumiere jammed ever since that night." 'That night,' meaning the night where everything went wrong.     "... hmm..."     His smile is quite inspired by this new information. He didn't seem angry at all about what was said before.     "Yes... yes, I like this. Finally some sense to all of the madness. A path to walk down." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark nods, relieved that his idea has been taken so well. He says, "There is other information I am working on decyphering in those books we recovered, but I am not yet adequately certain to tell the others. However, the possibility exists that we are not the only ones utilizing the Library for research right now. Further, and more worrisome, I think someone or something is deliberately trying to interfere with our own efforts. There are names in some of these books I have never encountered before in any of my research. Names that do not match what should be there. There is a lot of information in the Library, as you know, so it is possible I just never encountered these tidbits... Like the fact that the original Lords of Silence had 'Emanations', a female aspect. Each of the original Lords of Silence was actually a plurality. Four divided into two each, male and female, for a total of eight. Meaning that Los, Urizen, Lord Tharmas, and even Orc must have had a second self, or a mate of some kind. And yet in the book where I learned of this, there is no mention of Orc, or at least not by name. Instead, there is someone named 'Luvah'."     He shakes his head. "Unless I am missing something both basic and critical, someone may be altering the information in the books to keep us from learning something important. And that means that I am not certain how reliable this information is anymore."     He leans back, rubbing his face with one hand and drumming his fingers on Kord's desk with the other. "I realize it may seem like I am trying to change the subject, to gloss over all that I just said to you. But I truly am sorry for ever thinking you could be so base as to hold enmity of that kind towards me. While we have not always been... Sociable together, I have trusted you with the fate of my soul many times. I should have simply believed that you asked only out of the desire to know, not out of ulterior motive. I am just glad to have the matter finally resolved."     Assuming it actually is resolved. Kord never said he was convinced by Enark's explanation, after all. He may simply be letting it lie for now until or unless there is further evidence. 
}}

5568/Exploration: Chopping Grounds (3)

2018-02-02T04:24:38Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/11/13 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=More mysteries of Lumiere are revealed, providing as many questions as answers. |Cast of Characters=513, 42,..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/11/13
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=More mysteries of Lumiere are revealed, providing as many questions as answers.
|Cast of Characters=513, 42, 70, 954, 6, 974
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Drat and darnation! She finally gets here only to be outfoxed. A competetive urge is starting to boil in Finna. She MUST get one up on this strange figure who keeps outmanuevering her. But a part of her brakes screechingly on those thoughts - just not enough. Any girl who's casually walking around here and able to complete elude her must be very powerful.. or some kind of illusory trick.     But she appeared in that vision.     Doubts and uncertainties play across the Lunar's vulpine face as she looks around.     She turns around and very nearly leaves in a huff... but then the kind of room she's ended up in catches her eye. Writing. Writing everywhere.     Maps. Papers.     "... Did she lead me here on purpose? ... Did she know I was following her...?" Either of those answers would be troubling. Finna dives right back into investigating the room and starts looking over the materials. She's no scholar, but maybe she can make a little sense out of what sort of person used this room? What they were up to?     She looks up and... blink blink blink.     Finna smoothly shapeshifts back to human form, allowing the divine power flowing through her veins and soul to manifest as her own glittering silvery Changing Moon mark on her forehead and a gently burning aura of filmy, wispy, cold-fire moonlight wraps her up. She's armed herself with the Moonsilver bow, quiver at the ready this time.     "Okaaaaaaaaaay. Who's playing games with the huntress?" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Suddenly the ground is falling away. Staren is so surprised that it takes him a second to remember he can fly -- and then, seeing Tomoe, he dives after her, avoiding blood waterfalls (man that would be unpleasant to get covered in, even if this body can't throw up). "Gotcha!" Using both thrusters and wings, he flies back up into... Emptiness? <"Guys? Guys, is anyone here?"> He looks around for a few seconds, then starts scanning the area with more esoteric sensors. "...Looks like we fell through a one-way portal. I don't detect any spatial anomalies indicative of return portals." He elaborates, for Tomoe's benefit. "I guess we'd better see where we are."     Since the Grim Bone Gate(?) is such an obvious landmark, he lands by it. "So what do you think? Lumiere is below the world above... and now we're below Lumiere? Is this the gateway to Double Hell? Where things go when they double die?"     (Wisecracking is how Staren deals with stressful uncertainty, and distracts himself from the thought of how he doesn't exactly know how to get back from here) 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla has faith in both Staren and Tomoe that they're built surprisingly tough and both good at getting out of the lurch consistently (relatively) intact. That's been her experience with having them with her through Lordran, and elsewhere.     Though it is no fault of their own, maybe that's an estimation she shouldn't have gambled on, when Priscilla sneakily squeezes through the thrashing crowd to extricate herself from the growing melee, only to watch the floor to crumble behind her, and see Staren and Tomoe both drop into the Abyss. Granted, she wouldn't be too eager to take that fall herself, not being possessed of any sort of flight like they are, but it's a bit of an anti-karmic gut punch, to say the least. All she can do for several seconds is linger behind at the edge of the gap and hesitate on what to do, before the strange illusion takes over.     "Again, with this." she says aloud, almost hoping that the ill-advised noise making would draw something else out. Lumiere is almost worse when it is suddenly empty and quiet, than when it is crawling with the dead. "And again, with thee." she says with even less pleasure when Finna pops back out. "I am most certainly hoping that the only association this world wouldst draw between the two of us is so plainly demonstrated upon the marble" she says, gesturing towards the moon iconography. "Otherwise . . ."     "Never thou mind." She eventually decides to just leave it, slipping in to check on the writing, to see if any of it is comprehensible, taking any maps that appear to be useable especially. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord has a dark structure to advance upon. His only mercy is that he doesn't have the others to distract him right now. He flits toward the strange, infested structure, his silhouette muddied by his power over darkness and sound muffled by his owl-like flight.     He inspects the building, top to bottom, seeking any entrance besides the front door. He looks for a way to enter that seems the safest. But if he has to, he will enter through the front door. He has decided to investigate what he can of the illusions the Darkness brings to him... if, indeed, they are illusions at all.     He pulls a frigid coin from his pocket, and inspects it in the middle of his investigations, the physical proof that the illusion may not be a mirage at all. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' So things are just getting worse here, Tomoe might even question her own sanity of poking into things like this further. Then again she can't leave once she's started something normally and in the end people with nothing to gain? Helped save her and the rest of the SAO survivors from. However things are going bad she does not have any light of the type she needs to fly. so she's falling, she's falling and making ready to do what she can to use this shaft? Or is it a shaft? She has no idea at this point. Her mind races she makes ready to attempt to use the wall in a way to start rebounding down but then comes Staren. She's caught and looking very sheepish as this happens. "Thanks." She hopes Priscilla, Kord and Finna are all right, but there's little she can do about that for the moment.. "...right and it seems I owe you one Staren." She looks about trying to take things in. "Not enough over done Christian symbolism to be double hell I think." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The maps and writings that were kept in a small room, behind a chained door, are now freely accessible to Priscilla in this new environment. Or this new version of the old one. There is no door to block her path, no chains, no obstacle of any kind. The building is still smallish, but easily enough for a human-sized person to fit into. The maps and writings seem to depict a number of areas, some of which they've been to, some they haven't. Some seem to be blue prints for machines of some kind.     But the vast majority seem to be designs and drawings of dolls, puppets, dresses and accessories, as well as something like circuit patterns expressed in runes and glyphs. There is even a doll nearby, incomplete, but demonstrating that exact pattern all over its porcelain skin.     It is much brighter here than in the other version of this place. Light is ambient as well as shining down from crystal panes high above, producing shafts of pale white moonlight on everything.     Of potential use, at least one of the most prominently displayed maps collected includes a helpful layout of the very streets they now walk, in a place apparently known as the 'Sub-Terra Luna Temple'. Clearly marked on the map is a large platform of some kind that seems to link this place to the 'ground level' of Barrowville above, here denoted as Tafos Anapafsi. Everything written on these papers is in some dialect of Greek.     And signed at the bottom of this map, in golden letters, is the name 'Cro'.     There is suddenly a squeaking sound from nearby. It appears there's something like a furry white lizard about the size of a large cat sitting outside the building staring at them with big yellow eyes. It sits up on its hind legs, fore legs held like a dog begging, or like a prairie dog, dipping its head this way and that and peeking at the goings-on of these two strange people. To Finna's senses, it smells like morning dew, and like night-blooming flowers, and like a misty lake under the moon, rather than like an animal. But this is the land of the dead, so maybe it's better than the alternative. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:''' Sub-Terra Luna Temple (Moonlight) - <Lumiere> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------     An area seemingly made up of pristine white sandstone buildings, or possible some sort of marble is what lies ahead and around. They appear almost like habitations, but perhaps more like shrines or temples. The ones accessible are open and empty, while others don't appear to have any intended entrance or exit, and are simply solid stone. Everywhere, the imagery of the moon can be found, especially crescent moons. The sensation of something like a divine influence adds additional presence to the air, light and feathery in its touches upon the mind, rather than an oppressive power.     There is ambient light here, as well as occasional shafts of such from above, pale like moonlight... For that is what it is. Where once were cracks in the distant ceilign formed by the gaps between buildings, leading to the grounds around Escher, there is now a vaulted ceiling, with fluted columns bending like skeletal ribs towards crystal panes that refract and distribute the moonlight all over this... Temple city.     There are no signs of inhabitants, but there are silhouettes upon the walls in places. Painted there or some kind of shadow art is unclear, but they depict a variety of people engaged in a variety of activities, forever frozen in the moment. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Contents Finna <Shining Silver Tattoos> No One <She's Not Here> Priscilla <A Pair Of Footprints Follows Her Around> White Furred Beast <Chirping And Squeaking> 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     After Staren and Tomoe land, they find themselves in an area strikingly familiar. If not for the towers of machinery around them, the recently addition of lava-blood pooling and melting through the ground, and all the wreckage that has fallen down in their wake, producing an enormous racket that echoes for several minutes in this vast space, it would be a perfect reproduction of the place that people arrive in initially when they enter Lumiere. Oh, and the gate is red instead of gray here.     There is an awful lot of machines here, some archaic computer-looking, others more digital, others far more ancient like steam pumps or something, and the rest difficult to ascertain any purpose to at all. There are also almost bio-mechanical tubes and cables snaking across the floor and throughout the maze of machinery. In places, it appears to be merging into the other machines, gradully corrupting and converting it into psuedo-flesh.     The bodies of the Lantern-like things that normally work down here, and fell with them, not possessing the ability to fly, are already dissolving into Dead Lights. Hopefully the things they needed their weapons to fight won't be drawn by the sound or the smell of soul essence to be consumed. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:''' Second Layer (Law and Chaos) - <Lumiere> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------     A great expanse of black marble stretches out in every direction. Pools of flaming blood have begun to form and spread across the vast plane, and melt down through steel grids over emptiness into even further, darker depths below. Wreckage has fallen and heaped up in an area nearby a large red gateway of some kind. Outside of this cluttered locale, there are bridges and walkways, ladders and platforms, all arranged in the midst of the towering labyrinth of working machinery of strange and hard-to-define purpose. Whether they are computers or steam pumps or the workings of some less earthly contraption, is hard to say.     But power flows through them, giving electricity to at least part of Lumiere. The red gate greatly resembles the Grim Bone Gate, right down to the design of the skeletons either seemingly trying to pull the doors open or hold them shut. Where it leads, however, is very different. The patterns of wheels and gears seem highly prevalent here, clockwork, systematic, orderly. And yet, there is an element of randomness as well, as some of the environments seems almost orgagic. Bio-mechanical, perhaps? Huge cables like veins snake their way through the area, and it seems that they are merging with and blending into the more formulaic machines.     And yet... There is a circuit pattern spreading across those same cables in place, as though the structures machines are trying to take over the invasive influence in turn. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Contents Bleak Bone Gate <Waiting To Be Opened> Staren <His Eyes Are Gears Covered In Veins> Tomoe <Her Movements Trail Light> 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Kord's investigation shows the unnatural growth of some toxic black mold is much like that which was seen in the Temple of the Drowned. A corruption that eats into the steel and stone, covering it and replacing it with something... Other. Whatever it is may be very unsafe to touch. Assuming it's even real. He seems to be alone for the moment. There's no more of those red silhouettes at least. But with how dark everything has gotten, and the way this place seems ravaged by some calamity, like rot has had ages to pour over it and settle into the very fabric of its existence, it would be hard not to think that some grotesque monsters lies right around the next corner.     For a moment, as he investigates, he may think it is somehow snowing, as white flakes drift down all around him. But so far underground, how could that be possible, even for Lumiere? Well, it probably IS possible, but that's not what this is. They are ashes. Ashes that pour down from above somewhere unseen. The cracks in the ceiling that used to show a highly fragmented view of the area around Escher, are simply dark space. If there are furnaces at work in this place, they are not producing any light to judge their positions by.     Whispering voices guide Kord, urging him to move on, to not linger for too long lest he be found. And more firm voices speak to him with a clarity that has not been present so far.     There is something ahead you must see. And something you must slay. Open the path, and you will be one step closer to the truth.     Cryptic as ever, though. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:''' Chopping Grounds (Darkness) - <Lumiere> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------     An area seemingly made up of dark industrial-style apartments or other habitations of some description is what lies ahead and around. They are not apartments in the modern sense, so much as bleak, blocky structures with multiple levels. The windows have heavy iron shutters on them, armored as though built with fending off attacks and attackers in mind. The doors are mostly shut by force, chains and other barriers reinforcing the sliding panels.     The streets are narrow, winding, not unlike the paths leading into the Chopping Grounds from the pristine plagueway, but where that was the dregs of big city slums and New York alleyways and the like, layers and layers of city ontop of each other, this is more like an underground mining complex or something. It was built with pure utility in mind. There is heavy corrosion and black staining on just about every surface, and ashes seem to fall continuously like snow from somewhere in the blackness above.     A faint static sound can occasionally be heard, seemingly without source. Whispering voices carry like an undercurrent below everything else, nudging away from the signs of other beings when such evidence is encountered. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Contents Count Kord <Dripping Hands> Wounds <Stop The Bleeding. They Can Smell It.> Static Signals <You Are Not Alone> 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Oh there's that scent. And the voice. Finna lowers her bow, but her lips press together thinly and she's clearly doing her best to hold her tongue. Though her best still includes cracking, "You're no cousin of mine. Should try smiling sometime! Though what do YOU have to do with the Moon?" At the end of that her bluster turns to honest curiosity, if a bit guarded. She's ready for a few hostilities from Priscilla, though she's LAST on the list of where she'd expect hostilities from right now.     The Lunar confidently twirls her bow before tucking it away again...     And resumes scanning some of the papers as she was before Priscilla interrupted her.     "... Ungh." She does discover that she's not much better at reading Greek than anything else, because she's actually only barely literate at best. "Underground moon shrine?" Is her best translation of some of it after much peering. The signature is the only thing that stands out. Something about it troubles her, but she'll need more time to examine it before she believes the Shadow has anything to do with this!     The sudden squeak is what prevents her from devoting those thoughts! Her ears snap to attention and she swings about in a motion that sets her hair swaying to and fro! Eyes straight on the strange creature. Blink blink blink.     She knows that scent. The scent of night time adventures that resonates with her soul. The same smell as her own gently glowing self. It sets her a bit at ease. The foxgirl cracks an uneasy, hesitant smile.     "And you are?" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren shrugs. "Your tanking has allowed me to focus on blowing things up in the past. No need to worry about who owes who." He chuckles at Tomoe's comment about Christian symbolism, and goes to look at the computers, searching for a terminal or something. ...But it soon becomes evident there isn't one nearby, so he decides to look through the gate instead. And he also notices something else new: "What's that glowing trail mean?" he asks Tomoe. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord doesn't sit still. No, he doesn't wait for something to catch onto his scent, to the smell of blood on his hands. He slips between shadows, moving with speed and silence, like a true creature of the night. His eyes are lightless points that nevertheless give away his location, however briefly, in the dark that he slinks through. He doesn't try to open anything that seems tightly shut, and follows the path of least resistance to where he can further examine the world. He ignores the ash that falls down around him, eyes flicking here and there.     He listens to the voices that talk to him. He progresses with a single-minded purpose, seeking new ways to advance through the obstacles of this eerily silent and still landscape, and cases his environment. He does not stay in one place long enough for anything that may be hunting his fleeting presence to catch up to him, bouncing between shadows like a blur even to those things that have dark vision like him. He is very careful not to touch the strange moldering substance that permeates this layer of perception, as he is almost certain it is something he will immediately regret touching.     Not all truths are worth knowing.     A soft warning chimes in his mind from Yveltal. He ignores it, for now. He doesn't hear anything else, though, and that worries him more than the protests he would usually get. As if it was less demanding for him to do something, and more preparing him for more horror.     He's just glad he doesn't have to see familiar faces warped by this darkness. He was growing nauseated by that nonsense. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe is back on her feet and not a pancake thanks to Staren and she now takes a moment to look around her new surroundings for a moment. It's the entry point to Lumiere, a very coloured altered replica of it but it seems to be it. She notices Staren's seeming changes for a moment before she takes not of any of what is going on with her. She's trailing light as she moves and shes' only now staring to notices it. 5R "ummm I have no idea and ... Staren your eyes what... is ..." She's just staring at Staren's now cog eyes and the Veins within them, she shakes her head. She'll pull a small mirror from her inventory to let Staren get a good look at himself if he wishes. "So what do we do it looks like the gate is the only way to go." 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla takes her time poring over the documents. Far from just being scene clutter, they're packed with details of potentially great importance, and cover a wide number of topics. Priscilla sniffs more than a little dismissively at Finna --/Finna/ of all people-- demanding more smiles from her, before finishing up and concluding that 'underground moon temple' is probably accurate enough for government work.     She makes absolutely sure to take the map with the signature on it, for a very important reason. "The Shadow, in his previous life, went by these letters reversed. It wouldst be odd if he were to hath penned such a document previous to our meeting him, but post whatever had transformed him, lacking physical substance and limbs overall as he was." Imagining armless Crow writing a map is certainly a feat alright. Still, there's no one else Priscilla knows of to whom it could be connected.     After studying the rest, however, she decides a great deal of it is important as well. She picks up a number of unfamiliar maps with the hopes that they might actually prove useful if and when they stumble into the areas they depict in future, and one of a previous area simply to compare, as well as one mechanical blueprint that she thinks Staren would easily be able to make sense of, and then one that seems far more complicated, hoping some kind of technical insight will come of it. These, she rolls up into a very traditional map case, and leaves them with the small handful of other tiny cases on her silver linked 'belt'.     The content featuring dolls, she feels a personal, rather than professional attachment to. She is far less certain of their usefulness, but her fondness for the things had proven an exceptional boon once before, and if the mythos of dolls here is rooted in the same strange, moonlit realm as she has been dropped into twice now, Priscilla can't help but assign it some weighty significance. She takes the incomplete doll as well; it isn't as if anyone else is going to finish it. The drawings she simply commits to the recording function of communicator, not expecting that they'd need to be extremely closely examined, potentially under multiple angles or in different arrangements, like secret maps would be. When she takes the doll, she makes sure that it is selectively invisible, such that nothing should get the bright idea of trying to snatch it back.     Done with pillaging the hell out of the significant-looking loot, she turns to see a furry white lizard with yellow eyes, and then briefly consider whether it's supposed to be significant to her, or to Finna, because it seems a little bit like it could be either. As long as it isn't hostile, however, she plans to walk on out the door anyways. Either it'll do something prophetically significant, lead on like the Cheshire cat, or scamper away like an animal would (provided it doesn't reveal itself to be a mimic or something). She has the map, and is intending to reference it to the nearest connection back to Barrowville, for various reasons. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The white-furred creature Cheep!s and bounces away several feet when spoken to, its feathery-furred tail flowing behind it in waves. It stops further up the street outside the building, as though it's waiting for Finna to follow. If it's capable of speech, it doesn't appear to be willing to speak in any language that is translated by the Multiverse. It may be more like the domesticated animals it is acting like than a truly sapient being. But it might have some intelligence at least. When Priscilla emerges and starts heading down the street, the creature continues its leading retreat, though given the map obtained seems to be leading them in the same direction it's going, perhaps its guidance, if that's what it is, is unnecessary.     Assuming Finna comes along with Priscilla or follows after the strange creature, both moon-affiliated women will come across some areas of this temple city where silhouettes of people are on the open walls. Whether painted, some form of magic, or something else entirely, these decorations of people are odd after everything they passed through being completely empty, the only designs or artistry being the emblems of the moon, stars, and the night sky.     Further, the placing is irregular, patternless almost, except that the further they go, the denser the silhouettes become, until they begin blending together, and become almost indistinguishable. They passed by people waving to each other, a mother leaning down to pat her child on the head, what might have been a merchant and his cart selling something or other, a procession of individuals in an orderly line, and many more still-frames of life, only to come into these huge crowds of dark imprints upon the walls.     Eventually, the furry creature stops, looks off to its left, and then darts off into a building after its floppy fuzzy ears twitched and turned like a cat's, orienting on something undetected. Well, that's not where the map showed they should go, and even if they should move to follow the lizard-thing, they'll be coming around the corner of a building soon, and to that big open space on the map. It's so vast and takes up so much room, that even before they come to it, they can see the plaza. The walls have long since become black with silhouettes, and the streets as well. The street, in fact, seems to have become greatly uneven, buildings likewise showing signs of damage. Almost before they have time to process the shift in their surroundings, they are likely to see what lies ahead of them.     A gigantic hole. A blast crater with no bottom, where once was some magical platform to grant movement to and from the various layers of Barrowville, or 'Tafos Anapafsi' as the map called it. And above them, all the way up, it where the greatest concentration of moonlight spills through a charred ring in the ceiling that extends up and up and up, through cut-off escape tunnels like those they used to flee the Unlit in Final Destination.     That was no mural. No clever art. Those were the shadows of the Lit gathered here at the moment when something terrible happened. Their outlines, burned into the surrounding buildings, and the ruins heaped and strewn all about, by the flash of a great power. A power that Priscilla recently witnessed on October 31st. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Staren advances on the red gates and pushes them open. Like the Grim Bone Gate, it opens readily despite its vast size, though the two doors creak and groan in protest as though they had not been moved in a very long time. And probably they haven't. On the other side is... A single black marble path or bridge or walkway of sorts. Flat and even, narrow, and on both sides are pools of, visible in Tomoe's trail of light, dark-red liquid. All the way at the other end of the bridge is another red gate, identical to the one they just opened. Sitting in the center of the walkway is a Shrine of Light, apparently not activated, and waiting to be turned on as a beacon and escape point.     But... Those deep red pools. This is Lumiere. What are the chances that there's nothing in them? Do they try to just fly to the other gate, pass by their chance at an escape route, or take a chance? 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     With his own abilities and the guidance of the Darkness, Kord bypasses many threats. He can hear static on his radio when he nears something hostile, though at times it seems the static is coming from inside his head instead of the radio itself. Bodies run through with pipes, suspended in the alleys between buildings by the impaling tools being wedged against the walls. Wheels covered in barbed wire, with still-moving shapes tied to them sometimes roll through the streets, hunting for prey. And once, he may have even caught a glimpse of a humanoid shape with an enormous pillar of writhing, multi-limbed flesh extending up from where its neck should be, like some hideous centipede-for-a-head, with no hint of where its end lies. But thankfully, he is not lingering to stare at such hideous things, twitching and spasming at high speed like a camera in fast-forward.     He is on the move. Until he reaches his apparent destination. A massive plaza surrounded by ruins, with creeping black rot spreading outwards from it to turn paved stones into a carpet of disgustingly fuzz-textured, moist, ebony mold. High above, a similar hole leads upwards. But down... Down is where the intense smell of blood comes from. Blood and rot and viscera. And blood drips down from the edges of this ring, a mere trickle compared to the constant rain of red from the ceiling. Down there, somewhere, there's an emanation of an alien presence that Kord felt recently, on October 31st.     A fragment compared to what the Crimson King wielded, but enough to make grown men, less hardened than Kord, wet themselves in terror and flee screaming.     Down there somewhere, in the dark, is the target they seek. The second Marble Guardian.     And something much closer, fleshy and squishing, like a mass of many forms woven together as one. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord slips by horrors that remind him of things that crawl Lumiere at all times... but are altogether different. He makes sure to get a good look at any of the more obvious shapes while staying out of their apparent range of perception. He makes note of their tortured appearance, of the hellish landscape he has found himself in.     It's alien... but he understands that this represents suffering, of darker impulses, of evil and negativity. Which is why, when he comes across the hole in that ruined plaza, he hops right up to the edge. He leans to look down in a crouch. His eyes gaze down into the abyss, the hopeful flame in his heart burning hot. He can feel one of their prey down there... somewhere.     He just isn't going to just jump down there without thinking, not after seeing all of those twisted beasts along the way. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Apparently having had as much of Priscilla as she's willing to tolerate for ten seconds, Finna responds to the weird little thing by diving forward and after it.. and landing on all fours, completing a seamless shapeshift back into her fox form and playfully keeping pace with the creature that seems intent on being a guide.     But experience with Lumiere at this point has taught her not to lower her guard. She is completely alert for any surprises!     Of course things start getting creepy. The decor brings some curious peers from her and a momentary pause.. but it's only when they get dense enough that they can't be REMOTELY appreciated artistically that she stops right in her tracks and all her fur stands on end.     As if she's ready for them to come alive and emerge from the walls...     "Silhouettes of people. Like Crow is a shadow...?" Was Crow somehow born here?     An oddball she might be, but Finna is no idiot. She quickly begins scouring around the area and checking the spread pattern...     "... like... like a great flaming hand came through here and... smashed everyone flat. Instantly. No time to even scream."     The little fox nervously approaches the hole, briefly letting the strange animal alone to instead peer into the hole... 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Truth be told, Priscilla had an inkling of the truth long before she had arrived at that terminal concentration of burnt-on shadows. Not for any particular foreshadowing of Lumiere, as this place has been its utter opposite in many ways, but coincidentally for the similar feeling she had gotten walking the shattered streets of Caelondia, once, picking through its markets and homes, cluttered with thousands of its citizens still frozen in their last moments, though turned to petrified ash rather than charred outlines.     It's not as viscerally unpleasant as Lumiere typically is, and so Priscilla is not in an immediate hurry to return to gutter streets full of fleshy gore and wiggling finger-faced monsters. Eerie, surrealist loneliness is something she is more than familiar with. She indulges the turn off into the plaza, and then stops to look up as far as she can into the massive hole left in the ceiling, where the conduit had completely blown out.     "A rare place whence the exact moment of Lumiere's demise, or perhaps better said, the demise of the world of the living, is so perfectly preserved. Overlaid on top of the hideous modern reality that it is, I can only assumeth this realm to be either a time of Lumiere's past, frozen as such, or perhaps more likely, an impression left by it, visible to only those of the correct disposition." Priscilla gestures up at the streaming moonlight. "Light hast always been a fixture absent of Lumiere, to the point that the land itself was designed to provide it throughout its many spires and churches. If the light, even of the moon, were ever so naturally omnipresent, the word wouldst long ago hath lost its sacred significance."     A form of elevator seems a likely culprit to have suffered the bizarre obliteration of the mysterious apocalypse. Conduits of travel for dead souls seem to be a theme, in terms of being ground zero. The same phenomenon had hit the entry gates of Lostrata especially hard, completely destroying the Umberdark, and flooding the strange abyss of prisons below it, possibly being responsible for breaching the Candle's lowest level and opening it to the horrors that awaited in the dark deep below Lumieres base. Remembering that 'place' is why she doesn't go as far as to examine where the floor has been destroyed too.     "The question then becometh why it is populated at all, and why the gods wouldst chooseth to leave their valuable works preserved here. Likewise, I cannot imagine such hand-written significances, trifling as they perhaps art in scale, being left about a simple, pedestrian street house, even so long ago. They were clearly for the examination of those capable of entering this vision." Priscilla takes a minute to check out the celestial iconography. Specifically, she checks to see which end of the lunar cycle all these crescents are /on/, and if any of the stars constitute any recognizable or significant shapes. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe says "Staren we need to go now, if something's coming staying behind to fight right now isn't a good idea! MOVE!" She's going to make for the gate trying to get Staren along, she's not able to fly, and while it's often an common issue for her, here? It's even worse than normal because if she could fly this would be a hell of a lot easier to do. "It's time to go." She's going to make for the Shrine, though she knows there may be troble she'll be ready to fight, but it could end badly. Still staying around doing nothing would be even worse. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     So, a bonfire that's an Obvious Trap, even if it's not a mimic. And no knowledge about what might be in those pools.     So there are some various possibilities here: 1. There just happen to be some pools, with nothing in them. 2. Monsters lie in wait to ambush anyone going for the bonfire. 3. Guardians lie in wait for only specific targets, which A. includes him and Tomoe or B. doesn't.     Staren thinks 2 is most likely, and that 3B is incredibly unlikely. He and Tomoe formulate a plan: Agitate whatever's in the lakes and fight it on their terms, rather than its. It's the right call in cases 1, 2, and 3A.     To that end, he aims his beam cannons at the pools...     And then Tomoe decides to be bait instead. Damn it! He watches the pools uneasily as Tomoe approaches the shrine. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The stars in some places seem to emulate those as seen from the Earth, though given their multitude, if they are meant to represent spans of time, the very constellations are different because of how many billions of years they convey. The buildings were constructed at different times over the history of the Living World, possibly predating humans completely... Or perhaps post-dating them. Crescent moons seem to be the most dominant phase, though there are others to be found on strips of cloth inside of temple-homes, as decorations on banners and discarded clothing, and gold and silver boxes that store baubles and keepsakes of onlt emotional value. There are pale-gold pendants of crescent moons on necklaces hanging from marble pegs on one of the walls.     Lots of evidence of how these Dead lived, a way to peek into their existences before this calamity. But there is a small interruption. Cheep! Cheep! The squeaking of the lizard thing emerges from behind Finna and Priscilla, distantly, back in the building it came from originally. The sound is growing louder. If they care to look behind them, they will find the creature in the arms of the girl in the ragged gown, with that enormous mass of hair. However, looks somehow different. Her hair is shorter, for one, though still spands the entire length of her body to stop just short of touching the floor. Her gown is pristine white, the hem embroidered with symbols of the moon.     She is not dirtied or worn with age and rot picked up from the environment, though she is still barefoot.     Her face can still not be seen, except for stiff-looking lips, closed tight. She still has no presence to her. If not for that she was not standing there before, she could be a statue that the furry lizard wormed its way into the arms of.     But then the girl speaks wordlessly, voicelessly, her lips remaining still.     Meet me on the moon. I will tell you everything.     And then the world is dissolving, the moonlight being gobbled up by the dark, the temples becoming plated in black steel, covering up the celestial iconography, leaving prison-homes in their places, and bleak abandoned streets spreading outwards from a charred, bloody crater, mirrored in the ceiling above, like cracks in a skull around a bullethole.     They are not alone. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Kord makes his way towards the huge hole in the center of the destroyed plaza, from which all this corrupting mold spreads. That frigid coin he carries seems to push away the mold on the ground as he alights upon the shattered tiles and churned earth from what must have been an enormous shockwave coring straight through Lostrata. The pressure emanating from it can be felt in Kord's hand. And as he looks down into that hole, he will see there are a number of small balconies that were once probably actually rooms, now rendered into ledges overlooking the bloody depths below by the power that tore this place asunder. And standing on one of those balconies are a pair of figures. One he has seen recently. The other he was embodying recently. Belara and Prospero, the figures responsible for drawing the Shadows to Lostrata, and for engineering the transportation device that would carry them to the city where they could try to repair the link between Lumiere and the Living World.     Their robed and masked forms would be invisible to someone without Kord's ability to see in the dark, and are even more made out from this distance by his equally strong vision in general. Prospero empty eye holes in his mask has glowing blue orbs in them now. Belara has glowing green ones of a similar appearance. Prospero and Belara appear to be discussing something as they look down. Then Prospero looks up. For a moment, Kord may feel as though Prospero is looking directly at him. The feeling may intensify as Belara does the same. But they are look higher up, towards the ceiling from which the blood flows.     Then the two turn and walk away out of sight. And a single shadow moves and forms into a humanoid shape, gaining solidity and features, and a pair of small horns. The cloak of shadows falls away, revealing a gleaming figure in gold and platinum armor, a quiet power that is being contained and hidden touching Kord only due to his repeated exposures to it.     The one he knows as the 'Orc' form of Crow looks up as the other two did, but then looks after Prospero and Belara, and holds up something between thumb and forefinger of a gauntleted hand. Anger and disgust radiate from the god, and then he makes a throwing gesture. A tiny glimmering disc flies up towards Kord, seemingly by coincidence, as Crow's old self dissolves back into the shadows and moves to follow the two wizards out of sight.     The disc that lands at Kord's foot is identical to the coin he carries, though this one is flattened along one edge, where a pair of strong digits pinched it into two-dimensionality.     Then all the corruption and decay begins to melt away and retreat, though what the reality revealed looks like isn't too terribly different. It is, in fact, the same reality that Priscilla and Finna stand within. And now Kord does too. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Tomoe boldly advances along the walkway, cautiously examining the Shrine upon her arrival. Nothing happens to her immediately. The Shrine does not attack her, and there is no sign of movement in the blood ocean surrounding them. As near as any sensors or senses can ascertain there is no sign of any entity in this place they are in now, outside of themselves. Not that that always means anything, but it is at least usually a good indicator of Unlit, at least. If there is something that's about to happen, it might not happen unless the Shrine is activated. And if nothing is going to happen... Standing around waiting is not going to change that.     However, Staren, with his capacity to detect spatial anomalies, may suddenly be getting pings in that department. Is it just an optical illusion, or is the gate at the other end of the pathway getting closer? Actually, is the distance between HIS side of this pathway and the Shrine at the center getting shorter as well?     ...Great. Space is compressing or something. It's hard to say whether this is going to stop eventually or not. But it's clear that staying here might be more hazardous than taking action. They have four choices now. 1. Try to go back through the gate they entered through. 2. Try to go through the gate on the other side. 3. Try to activate the Shrine and get out o fhere. 4. Take their chances in the blood ocean without touching any of this stuff. Though here is always option 5. Other, but that requires trying to think of something that isn't right in front of them to do.     Oh, yes, and from Tomoe's position on the center platform, it appears to her as well that the gates are gradually closing in on her from both sides as space is shortened. It's kind of claustrophobia-inducing, honestly. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord stares down into the abyss, down and down and down, to the pair of figures down there. He feels a sense of vertigo, a sinking in his stomach, as his mind tries to cope with the heights that seem to lack wind. He stares down at a discussion, a silent one.     His heart nearly lept into his throat, when he felt himself being stared at. And then... again, when 'Orc' appeared before him, as if a glimmer of a time already passed. He cracked open his mouth, and his fanged maw almost formed words to shout down to Crow. But he hesitated as the coin flew up and landed at his feet. He watched the shadow leave...     He crouches to retrieve the frigid coin, and holds it in his palm to examine it. His eyes fixate on it as he stands, and that is when he senses that the world has changed around him, and something is in his periphery. He lifts his head to look at Priscilla, and swivels his gaze to look at Finna. Then he looks down into the hole in the world.     "Down there. We must descend to find the Marble Guardian," he tells them, pointing down into the endlessly deep pit. For once, he refrains from leaping down, himself.     He holds up one coin in each hand, examining either of them for differences. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Huh. No monsters.     Instead, space starts compressing. Well... Staren was planning on using the shrine to leave /anyway/, so this doesn't exactly change the plan! He flies over the walkway to the shrine. But before actually leaving, he tosses a quadrotor drone out over the ocean. If radios continue to work here and he can get a good signal, maybe he can see what happens to this place after he leaves. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna is quiet - not unusual for Lumiere, but pretty unusual when staring down someone she has every intention of talking to. But something about this girl has kept her tongue-tied. Now that she reappears here.... a few ideas start clicking in her head. The light of realization fills her gaze--     And just as she's about to speak, the silent voice resounding in her head drives down the urge.     And then it's all over with...     With Kord nearby, and the exact place they just left... and...     "... There's a HOLE HERE TOO?!" The little fox jump-backflips away from it, landing once again in human form looking pretty jumpy and freaked. "How did I miss that thing?! ... ... the others fell down this one?" 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Only moments earlier, Priscilla had said something about being, for whatever reason, favoured by the 'gods' of Lumiere on the radio. She had meant it fairly casually, for the fact that she had apparently been spared the horrific imagery Kord had signed up for when he decided to interact with the core Darkness eating at Lumiere, and instead been taken somewhere marked with the handiworks of legendary figures.     She had not felt it was quite so literal until the eerie girl she had been intersectionally chasing around for days showed herself all of a sudden, and had those words to say.     "As I had said." she continues, faux-patiently. "The experience was almost certainly an impression, moment in time, interpretation, or other representation, of the reality we art currently beset with in this present moment. They art not two different places, in all likelihood, but different casts upon it. Different aspects, perhaps, visible from angles of perspective of which only some art possessed." Truthfully, Priscilla is perhaps a little bit unhappy that Finna gets to see the secret details at all. Less than she feels bad for what Kord has to see, though.     "Unfortunately, I am far from certain where we art to venture in order to reach 'the moon'. Last and only I hath ever seen it, it hung far too close to the earth on the thirty-first of each October, and concerns of limited time prevented us then. As I believeth we witnessed the last of such grand occasions in existence only two weeks ago, I believeth it not a viable lead. The way can only be upon another level, and the only way to access such wouldst inevitably be through the second and last Marble Guardian of Lostrata."     To make progress: Kill More Bosses. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe is making ready for something to attack here, nothing happens, with it, nothing happens at all. Then something seem to happen, space seems to be compressing on her. She's not looking pleased, heck she's finding it rather claustrophobic to be perfectly honest. "Staren...we need to go." She so her best to wait for Staren to get there but she's going to activate the shine the moment he gets to her. She tries to not freak out but she gets the feeling they could end up crushed if this doesn't work. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     As space threatens to pinch shut around the two, Staren flies to Tomoe, and together they activate the Shrine. And something highly peculiar happens. The light that Tomoe's body trails suddenly radiates from her. Her skin glows. Her hair glows. Her armor glows. Her eyes glow. Even her skeleton glows through her own radiant skin. Every moment, the light builds and builds, seeming as though she can not possibly contain it all, even as she seems to grow beyond herself, becomning more full, 'larger' without actually changing shape or dimensions, becoming ever a more perfect vessel to contain the swelling illumination.     The ocean of blood, gorey as it may be, takes on the appearance of crimson sand, dunes spreading outwards under the ripples of the power shining from her, channeled through her.     Staren has an altogether different experience, though no less uniquely strange and awe-inducing.     He is connected.     From the moment he touches the Shrine, he is directly linked into the mechanism of Lumiere. Its 'operating system'. Circuit patterns spread outwards, printed upon space, upon time, layers peeling up to reveal planes of existence undreamt of, like cyberspace replicas of lands and worlds that existed invisibly, parallel to the one he has been walking in until now.     A voice speaks in Staren's head... No, not even a voice. An output prompt, printing messages in unfamiliar runes and glyphs, endlessly, in vast streams of data, that sound to him as song. Math that has become music. And not just any math.     Across the inside of his being, the mathematical formula describing the reality he current exists upon is written. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     <<Lumiere System Message: New Access detected.>>     The message is expressed in symbol and song, none of it any familiar language, but all of it understood. This is the voice of Lumiere. A voice of possibility, of renewal, of second chances. An eternity to learn, to improve upon something bigger than one's self, to be shared and enjoyed by all. A collaborative work of art that will grow only more and more perfect as time goes on. And yet underneath it all, is a layer of... Sadness. Stagnation. Decay. There is a mournful undertone to the glory of the World Voice. Something damaged and broken.     <<User Identified. Welcome back, Moderator Solaren. Your intent has been registered. Creating exit.>>     Space Parameters: 9715-2118-Z-C7-991085.5 by... Tt continues to rattle of numbers and designations at speeds that only a computer or an equivalent brain could parse, describing mathematically where Staren and Tomoe are, and where they wish to be.     Moderator Solaren -> Bypass Active -> Exitting Space-Time Claudication with Passenger: Tome.     And then the pair of them are relocated, bounced from the slowly-crushing space they stood upon, into the same location as Priscilla, Finna, and Kord. Only now, there is a huge red gate mirroring that of the Grim Bone Gate, though of obviously different coloration, standing there with them as though it has always been there. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The connection Staren felt is gone for the moment. But there is now a sort of 'connector' in his consciousness. An 'open port'. And if he can find a way to connect again...     Tomoe continues to shine like the sun, the ground crawling with lines and symbols not unlike a fusion of the spells used in ALO and the same runic glyphs that appear to represent circuits here in Lumiere. It is not like she is creating the symbols, but that the light radiating from her is exposing what was there. The symbols of the moon react to the light by shining straight through the black steel meant to cover them up, as though someone intended to hide them, ashamed they ever existed, or perhaps to deny the small comfort of reminders to those who survived this horror.     However, the glow eventually fades, retreating into a core within Tomoe, and then even that is gone. But her wings manifest on their own, that internal light coming forth when she calls upon it, to give her what she needs to fly in this domain of darkness.     All are gathered together once more, with a lot of notes to compare and strange experiences to share (or not). But Lumiere is not done with them yet.     A wet gurgling, slithering noise, utterly revolting before they even see what produces it, has been gradually growing louder. Drawn by the light Tomoe has produced (or 'Tome' as the Lumiere System called her), a heaving mass of worms and corpses comes piling up out of that huge hole in the center of the plaza. The worms peel back enough to expose a massive, lipless mouth. Bare teeth in blackened flesh, the vague shape of a head. And then Wormfeast cries out ravenously with no voice at all, but only the sound of countless revolting creatures squirming together in shared hunger, and anger, as they recognize those who harmed it once before. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren races to the shrine, and then... sees... something? It calls to mind how people think 'cyberspace' might look, but OH NO VOICE IN HIS HEAD WHAT IS IT GOING TO DO     Staren mentally recoils, searching for a way to shut it off, expecting some form of psychic attack... But none comes. Instead, he's sent a bunch of data he can't quite parse, but somehow he knows it's a mathematical description of Lumiere. HOW does he know that? What should, perhaps, be an epiphany of insight is tainted by concern: How can he know this? Why does he know this? Is something messing with his head??     He's connected to... was Lumiere actually a virtual world before everything died?! And it's mistaken him for an administrator. Could he use that to help get to the bottom of things?     But just as he's beginning to think of the possibilities, the connection is gone.     And he wonders if maybe it was just a hallucination... Isn't it suspicious, that he's always hoped for a world to have such underlying rules that he can understand and manipulate? He never thought he'd find it for Lumiere, but with it, he could solve so many problems and fix the place.     Isn't it exactly what some force that can read his mind and wants to manipulate him would want him to think existed? It's too tempting to pass up...     ...Even knowing it might be a hallucination.     Before he can ruminate on that further though, Tomoe glows like the sun. "Tomoe? Are you okay?" Whatever that was goes away too, but leaves her with her wings. They work here now? Whether that's a hallucination is scientifically testable...     But before he can analyze THAT, suddenly the Mysterious Hole becomes worms and a giant creepy mouth. He's not sure what it is, but it sure seems hostile, and he fires at it, backing away warily as he tries to imagine how a mouth stuck in the ground might attack. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe is glowing she feels like something is changing within her, she's not sure what's going on at first, she feels a bit afraid fo a moment but then the fear fates she sees the symbls she watches, she seels different she feeols good and then she sees that her wings are out, that they are still there. She looks to Staren. "I think, I'm okay I just feel ... good, really good." She's also looking at her wings in suprise. "They are still ... here." 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord seems quite unimpressed with the coins, but their significance is not lost to him. After determining that both of the coins bore important symbology for Lumiere in some way, he pockets them once more... in separate pockets, paranoid about them jangling while he moves. As he does, now Staren and Tomoe have appeared nearby, bringing along a bizarre door. His head turns to fixate on the strange sight, eyes wide behind his mask. He hadn't expected that... the Grim Bone Gate was something he was only familiar with on his entrance to Lumiere, and now this differently colored doorway showed that it wasn't the only one.     He doesn't have time to appreciate the oddity. Wormfeast crawled out of the deeps, a swarm of worms that has grown to titanic size. He doesn't wait for it to attack. He strikes a defensive posture, and he points one arm up at it. His fingers spread outward, and he fires a blast of Dark magic energy right into its hungry maw. The blast is accompanied with a loud WHUMPF, the energy displacing air the way a cannonball might, complete with blowing back his cape. Nothing fancy, just reacting with immediate violence to the thing that preyed upon his hard work before. 
}}

5561/WANTED: Wormfeast (2)

2018-02-02T04:23:07Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/11/10 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=The monstrous Wormfeast returns for a final showdown. |Cast of Characters=974, 42, 954, 513, 70, 6 |pretty=y..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/11/10
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=The monstrous Wormfeast returns for a final showdown.
|Cast of Characters=974, 42, 954, 513, 70, 6
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Visions of the past, or of another reality, or of one among many layers of reality, have been experienced by those exploring the Chopping Grounds. And it seems that, despite Staren and Tomoe being separated from the group during a fall into an abyss below, they have been reunited, as has Count Kord with Priscilla and Finna, despite them all journeying to their current destination without any awareness of each other. A large red gate of some form of crimson stone has appeared nearby, its skeletal design all too familiar for those who have been coming and going from Lumiere for nearly two years. Though the fact that it is HERE instead of at Lumiere's entrance, and further its shift in coloration, is one more element of surprise to add to the collective visions of reality resolving into the present, wherein all the explorers are together again.     To add to the personal experiences each underwent, the visions of horror and the glimpse of three masked figures below on the part of Kord, the connection to some sort of 'Lumiere System' on Staren's part, and the becoming of a vessel for Light to flow through for Tomoe, and the moonlight-dappled temple city and its mysterious no-presence girl who has been leading them on a chase only to arrive at an answer that contains more questions for Priscilla and Finna, there is yet one more surprise in store.     They have discovered the entrance to the Mausoleum for this locale, the lair of the second Marble Guardian of Lostrata: The Anti-Lantern weapon set in place to keep the most numerous among the thinking Dead from trying to fix this broken reincarnation device called Lumiere.     Well... Perhaps 'one more' surprise isn't quite accurate.     Amidst the sounds of many inhuman bodies squirming and writhing together, the surge of a mass of Unlit woven together grows in volume, until a gigantic head, covered almost completely in fanged worms, erupt from the gaping hole that has cored through the center of this once-holy ground, and down into the depths where there target lies. It looks a bit different, and its scale and power are very much changed from the initial encounter with this monstrosity, but those parasitic worms are still the same.     Wormfeast. The monster that has been preying upon the weakest and most peaceful among the Lanterns in Tacet Sanctos, the single 'safe' community that exists in Barrowville, created by the Elites' own hands. Now it stands before them once again, blocking their path to an even greater obstacle.     Staren fires his beam cannons, searing worms and sending pieces of corpses tumbling down from the wound, the bodies that have been woven together to create this... Abomination evident.     Kord unleashes a shockwave of darkness and wind... And much like when he tried to attack the engineers rising from below, only to send two allies tumbling down into the dark, there is more poewr than was intended.     But now, as he has grown closer to the whispering force called the Darkness since even just earlier, he alone can see what was invisible before.     A gigantic icy fist of purest dark that accompnies his attack, and strikes Wormfeast in the face with power beyond Kord himself. The Darkness has been promising power to those who will listen to it, power that they can use for whatever they choose as long as they agree to use it, since Lumiere first unified. Now the evidence of this manifests for the first time.     The titan reels from the blast, and from the blow that accompanies it, sending the giant head whipping to the side, flinging worms and body parts everywhere. Its slithering cry of surprise and rage, not even a voice, just the sound of many inhuman bodies moving together, like a huge ball of snakes, is the only reply it can offer. It has only just made its appearance, and already it suffers from a fierce attack. It was not expecting such well-prepared prey, clearly. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     It bleeds, metaphorically speaking. They can damage it, so they can kill it.     There's a phrase Staren once read which comes to mind at times like this:         'If you were standing in the path of the beam, you would obviously die pretty quickly. You wouldn't really die of anything, in the traditional sense. You would just stop being biology and start being physics.' --Randall Monroe, What If #141: Sunbeam     This is what Staren tries to do to his foes. Knowledge and technological development allows those with no innate strength to manipulate ever-greater forces. Ever greater amounts of energy. When the demons and monsters came for Earth, men and women in armor hundreds of times tougher than steel, with guns that could blow through a tank in one shot, were there to fight them. And so it continues now on RIFTS Earth: Even the squishiest of mortals can don technology that lets them fight on par with monsters.     Every good mathematician and engineer knows that you can solve a complex problem by reducing it to simpler problems you already know how to solve.     So when Staren sees a monster problem, he pours absurd amounts of energy into it until it stops being a monster problem and starts being a physics problem.     Physics problems are easy.     To that end, Staren produces a rocket launcher from his magic bag and starts flying around the monster at a distance. Mini-missiles launch towards the wormbeast, exploding on contact into bursts of intense heat that aim to tear the bonds holding molecules apart and strip electrons from nuclei.     Substitution is another good problem-solving technique. In this case, he's attempting to substitute large chunks of ash for large chunks of monster flesh.     Ash is pretty easy to handle. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord hesitates when he witnesses the bizarre slam of foreign power... power he does not, himself, control. Yveltal was always careful to shape him to be able to conquer problems with abilities he could gauge himself, so the Darkness briefly startles him, visibly so. It stuns the mass of worms that pretends to be a single mass, and... he grins, because it was a satisfying effect. He leaps up into the air, taking flight so that he is an even harder target to strike. He flits over the cavernous pit in the world, and flits up with great agility and speed to hover at a fixed point above the horrific creature.     Then he lifts his hand, and air begins to howl around him. He quickly pivots in the air, and ejects a mass of cutting wind down into the middle of the swarm's mass. His attack is aimed to stoke the heat of Staren's attack, blowing away ash and turning it into a conflagaration that easily rivals the dead fires that can be found near this area of Lumiere. The howling is so much louder because of all the wind blasting down into the hole the Wormfeast crawled out of! Dust blasts in all directions, and cinders fly as he works in tandem to do what his patron god really loves.     Destroy.     "HAHAHAHA THIS WILL BE CATHARTIC!!" he bellows over his own cacophonous wind blast. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna once again has the urge to cover her nose at the horrible thing that crawls forth from the hole that gave her the heebie jeebies earlier. The little fox whines protestingly at yet another horror from the black lagoon showing its face.     ... No. a LOT of faces. She antsily paws around while her mind buzzes into high gear hunting for ideas on how to deal with a TITAN OF FUSED BODIES... while her allies all decide that they need to use some horrifying ranged weapons that prevent her getting close and ripping the thing apart.     Not that she wants to get covered in that YUCK.     The fox backflips and shapeshifts smoothly back into human form, clutching her Moonsilver bow confidently and nocking an arrow pulled seemingly from the ether!     "Boys and their toys!" She snorts at Staren's mecha... breaks into a sidelong dash circling the giant hole... and unleashes a single, far less-impressive arrow towards the Titan's head. She doubts it really has anything like 'vitals', but 'go for the head' is usually a sound strategy when fighting ANYTHING. ... Usually.     The arrow might well be a distraction though-- or... wait?     Anyone who's participating in this fight might have to blink a few times because there are now seven Finnas firing her bow from all around the hole at the creature and dashing in sync. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla, for her part in being dumped here alongside everyone else, after their variety of brief and trippy forays into/through some kind of dimensional prism surrounding this plaza, has more than her fair share of questions. What the hell Kord keeps seeing. Where Staren and Tomoe had gone. Why the latter is glowing, and what the former is talking about. Who the nobody-girl is and what she wanted. How to get to the moon. If anyone has any insights on all the papers she'd appropriated, or the gate.     As things often are with Lumiere, however, the matters have to wait for the more pressing problem of immediate survival. "For a single moment's rest . . ." the crossbreed hisses, at the sight of the new arrival. "There is much we need yet to discuss. None of thee art allowed to becometh so injured thou art unable to answer questions" she then says, backing off from the central hole in the plaza as people start laying into it from afar. Thankfully, this time she is actually prepared to do so alongside them.     When Priscilla gains a decent enough amount of distance, she spins gracefully on her heel and unhooks the previously invisible (or immaterial? it's never clear) greatbow from her back, slamming the organic obsidian spike into the cracked tiles and curling her fingers about the woven metallic strands of the bowstring. Rather than drawing or firing anything just yet, however, the molten orange gem set into the cross flares up with an uncannily familiar screeching, firing what looks almost like a faint and hazy, near-invisible 'laser' into the mass of worms, and 'painting' it as if for bombardment. Aside from probably being agonizingly painful for Wormfeast, the angry sights of the Obsidian Greatbow do indeed create an obvious, blazing beacon in the shape of a fiery, slitted eye, anchored in the air adjacent to its flesh. Aiming anywhere near it both vastly improves targeting, and effectively doubles offensive power through arbitrary and arcane means. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe was still in a bit of shock that she could use her wings here, given the issues with light. Yet there were other things she might think about, she'd become a vessel for something here, which would bear looking into. However for now the joy of catching up with the rest of the party was lost, she was dumped with the rest. She still glowed too, which is something that has got some people's asking what's going on. There's no time for answers as Tomoe sees they are not alone. "He's got some good ones." Her wings flare out, which should be news to anyone here given she's been unable to use them without help from say Finna for as long as she's been here and Tomoe's already taking to the skies. "It just never ends does it?!" She makes a bit of a face about Wormfeast and with Finna's comment over the radio? Well she's right it's bad but not as bad as what they were dealing with before. She will rise sup a bit, start chanting and letting her light rays fly, more or less magical lasers on her part. She's also very glad the likes of Kord and Priscilla is here as well, or this could be an even worse situation without two heavy hitters like them to bolster the party. As for Wormfeast it's going to have a very bad day if Tomoe has anything to say about it. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Particle beams and rockets slam into Wormfeast, spraying so much decaying and reanimated bio-matter like a slurry. With flames added to the mix, and Kord enhancing them with a combination of his own slicing wind blades and the backing of the Darkness that sends claws of shadow spiralling down into the central mass to tunnel and scrape to the core, heat spreads down the monstrous head in rivers of fire that turn long white and purple invertebrates into gray ash and cinders.     As Finna fires her arrow (or arrows?) into Wormfeast, sinking them into a creautre she will probably not wish to retrieve them after use, its clenched fleshless jaws, gumless, exposed teeth like tombstones upon a pair of hills, one upside-down and above the other, opens. The maw of the thing disgorges a wave of black ooze, the liquefied remains of the Dead it has consumed, as well as some not yet fully digested. Shambling bodies, whether Lantern and controlled by the worms that squirm through their flesh, or Unlit and simply seeking out prey, stagger their way towards the attackers, adding another element of threat to deal with beyond just attacking the boss.     As well, melee-focused fighters have something to keep their allies safe from. From the size of Wormfeast, it's unlikely there's any shortage of these zombie-things to send at them. As Tomoe flies in the darkness, she herself producing her own light source (though whether it is a light that would 'count' outside of Lumiere is another question), she unleashes her magic lasers on the enemy. The rays are limned in a red radiance, a sort of 'coating' of another power. Sharper eyes might determine that glow is actually rings of glyphs and symbols incredibly compacted, overlapping each other until they become a solid band of red. Where the beams strike, flesh melts and what is wrong is set to right. Bodies fall from Wormfeast as though rejected, or as though rejecting that which consumed them.     Priscilla paints a symbol of harm upon Wormfeast, causing its constant stream of black ooze and aggressive dead things to cease as its mouth is devoted once more to clenching shut as the rest of it issues forth a cry that is completely independent of what the mouth itself is doing. Just the angry and pained hissing of all its myriad smaller mouths.     Several of the worm serpents launch themselves from the main body, and go seeking new hosts to infest. That appears to include Priscilla. Each of these worms is lengthy, and thick as a grown man's torso. In huge numbers, even she might be overwhelmed, or forced to abandon her current tactic.     But then something white and very fast lashes out from behind her. Its exact nature is unknown. Its exact movements unseen. But in that flicker of an instant, the parasites coming for the cross-breed are rent into bleeding segments, writhing on the ground.     And if Priscilla chances a look behind, there is nothing there.     Someone here, however, sees as he gives himself over to this new power and uses it wantonly. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:''' Sub-Terra Luna Ruins (Darkness) - <Lumiere> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------     Prison homes plated in black steel are intermixed with the ruins of once-great buildings. Hallowed ground turned to a den of death and suffering, caked in corruption, run through from ceiling to the floor as though a great knife had pierced the world. To add to this seeming, there is even a constant flow of blood from above, dripping down into the depths. Red and thick, for hungering things below.     A great seething mass of worms rises from the wound, red energies flowing through it like veins. Unseen eyes watch from the walls -- presences that whisper and advise, as they push things in favor of those who obey. The world bends to their will.     And the shadows bleed together until they run in waterfalls of pitch, a roar that blocks out all else beyond the words of the whisperers, and the voices in one's own head. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Contents Count Kord <Crown Of Black Flames> Priscilla <A Decapitated Figure With A Scythe Stands Behind Her> Static Signals <Radio Messages Are Inaudible> Wormfeast <A Test Of Your New Strength. Tear It Asunder.> Wounds <Stop The Bleeding. They Can Smell It.> 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord's eyes flick around as he takes in the strange sights. The crown briefly distracts him -- it isn't the crown he wants, and so he ignores it as an illusion, a lie meant to control him. He eagerly uses the dark power that is given to him, because if this strange force wants to help him destroy, then by all means, he'll give it a course to hit his enemies with.     His wings spread wide and, for a moment, his eyes glow behind his mask. The red in those wings and his tail becomes deeper, like clouds illuminated by bloody fires. The black seems to blur, taking on an appearance like crawling black lightning. He howls with the effort, accumulating a magical power of wind throughout his body, and then he releases a massive, cleaving beam of wind that doesn't just make a howling noise as it blows through the tunnel like a tornado, it glows like a beam of pure energy... because it is. White and red light pulses from the force of Dark and Wind magic pushed toward the weak point that Priscilla marked on his prey.     It's really, really loud.     He utterly ignores the, uh, interlopers that approach them. He can mop up later. Right now, he is cackling and enjoying a nice big fight, with no complications to distract him. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' EWWWWWWW EVEN MORE! Seeing how this thing falls apart fills Finna with another wave of revulsion and nausea. Even her Lunar composure cannot stomach this level of gross.     Nevertheless... as gross as the things are, Finna's not too dissuaded from the role that she's taken up.     The foxgirl's forced to pause only for a bit as she spots the unfamiliar magical displays being put forth here. Not that she's an expert in Tomoe's arsenal, but something curious going on here has her furrowing her brow a bit!     "That's what we need! More of that!" She confidently declares... and vaults forwards.     Because those undead are only a threat to her if they can MOVE QUICKLY enough. Up she goes, using Unlit 'noggins for stepping stones and kicking them down into the ground as she goes, keeping up the barrage of arrows!     The Illusionary Finnas dive into the masses meanwhile, all seeking to distract and draw away the hordes. Perhaps get them slamming into each other. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Magic, tech and things somewhere in the middle assail Wormfeast, but is it enough? Tomoe quickly clues in she should be dealing with any adds as she might put it. She also does not presume the light will work on any other world but this one. She might try to experiment later but that's for another time she's got to worry about. She sees the nature of her spell has changed, that get her attention the red? She's not sure what's going on there and won't have time to realize those are actually runes. Rather than the small light rays she's getting super powered red laser of some sort. She's going to have to train and pay attention o just what's happened to her and she's going to keep up with it, with Moon Cutter in Hand from her inventory now. She'll take a moment before she'll try to attack with magic again as she'll try to get up close to run some interference. Before she'll try to chant again it does take her some time between spells after all. "Lets keep it up!" 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Spewing out legions of the restless dead seems to be a not-uncommon tactic here. Why wouldn't it be? They're a resource easily tapped second only to breathable air, and do an admirable job of slowing down progress and complicating just about any proposition. Furthermore, they are the exact opposite of anything Priscilla's gargantuan dragonslayer greatbow, as opposed to Finna's swifter implement, is specialized for.     She holds her ground for several moments, looking back and forth across the awakening, sludge-covered horde, fingers hovering at where a quiver should be and looking for a good opportunity to line several of them up, but sees none forthcoming. Wormfeast seems to like her especially little, and disgorges some of the foul and loathsome things that make up its body at her, instantly triggering her disgust reflex. She'd found the same things in the charnel-packed houses on the way here, so-     That thought interrupted, even Priscilla has to look around in bewilderment when the slithering abominations fall to pieces of their own accord. Though vastly more specialized in /being/ invisible rather than spotting it, the former on its own means that she is used to these situations being the opposite way around, and is visibly offput by being surprised like this herself for once. At least it appears to be . . . beneficial? Benign, at least?     "I beg thine pardon?" she says to Kord, more out of habit and in clear vexation than anything else, beseechingly looking around herself for several seconds, before giving up on finding the source, with the Unlit making steady progress. She instead takes just long enough to finally draw one of those utterly tremendous, comically impossible arrows that should never fly anywhere, draw the bow with a whispering, shuddering creak, and then launch the titanic spear straight at her previously placed mark, easily having enough inertia to splatter through a mob or two that unfortunately gets in the way at the last second.     She has a bit of a plan for where it buries itself, but after that, she herself disappears in much the same way her 'friend' did, and absconds from the area, relocating to another shooting point. It's not so much trained sniper's discipline so much as it is naturally engrained behaviour for her, and a cheap and easy way to leave any of the horde advancing on her suddenly without a target, until she makes her next, obvious move. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Hmm. It's not down yet. At least Staren is flying and can avoid the shambling zombies that way. How long before it produces some kind of flying undead or worms though? Staren decides it's time to turn things up another notch. Flying at a distance, he swaps the rocket launcher for an energy rifle of some sort, apparently made of one single part. He sets the RAISER rifle to full power, and moderate penetration -- enough to get through a few bodies, he hopes. And then he lands, just long enough to aim and fire a projectile of gleaming light at the base of the neck, before taking to the air again. Photons in an exotic, matter-like state, the outer layer dissolves away on impact, burning a passage around the projectile... and then suddenly the core imparts all its energy at once, energy equivalent to a half-ton of TNT being dumped into the surrounding matter as the exotic photons return to light. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     As Kord pours his massive attack directly into the weak point created by Priscilla, the effect is devastating about a third of its head is simply sliced clean off. Maybe more. A cavernous skull that must have belonged to a giant of some description before it was repurposed as a breeding ground for THESE things, has now been slashed open to an extreme degree. What would be a fatal blow to most beings, leaving exposed their now heavily damaged brains. Instead, what is exposed is a squirming ball of worms, many of them now bisected due to being in the path of the attack.     Teetering and wobbling around, weight no longer easily distributed, the contents of its skull slipping and pouring out into the hole in the ground, and back down below (where they'll have to go soon enough. Ugh), Wormfeast seems to be on the ropes already. Is this the power the Darkness can offer? The power to slay even things like this in short order? The answer to that question will have to go on hold. As Finna pours more arrows into the behemoth, streams of silvery smoke starting to come out of the holes they sank into, something seems to be building and shifting below the creature's semblance of a neck. Its jaw cranks open again, and many more bodies are vomitted forth, some larger than the previous wave, their forms heavy with worms to the point where they are almost more parasite than flesh.     It's a fine thing to evade slow enemies. But as their numbers continue to increase, the chances of even a slow enemy getting in a lucky hit is going to go up. And one can only dodge for as long as there is room to evade. Further attempts to walk on the heads of the Unlit causes their parasitic cargo to snap and hiss and bite at nimble feet, making even that strategy hazardous. If not for its bestial nature, Wormfeast could almost be seen as intelligent. But that's not possible, right? A cunning predator, surely, but all those minds together do not form a super intelligence.     Probably.     Tomoe pauses to prepare for her next spell attack, and more worms stretch up from the slashed mass, launching themselves towards her. Of course, with her wings, she can probably evade easily... But flexible attackers that can whip themselves about provide more of a threat than just a single small arrow, particularly with the degree of mass they possess. Best not to get hit.     Priscilla's attack blasts through the weak point she created, coring out the remainder of Wormfeast's skull, and leaving only its lower jaw and throat. More bodies tumble below in the spray, some of them no doubt meant to be issued forth as reinforcements for the existing and still-swelling horde of the undead. A gurgling, choking noise now comes from the pit of a throat, black ooze bubbling up from somewhere below. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Staren's attack pulverizes the base of the neck, thinner than the head it supported until recently, sending that remaining bottom third sloughing off like melted cheese (made of worms) and now even its bottom jaw is gone. They have beheaded this beast thrice over. Surely, that is enough!     Connection Established: Analysis indicates a greater physiological structure below was supporting the head. Conclusion: There is much more of the enemy to defeat. Recommended Tactic: Tempospatial claudication linking Point 9Y176 - Blood Forge to Point 8885Z - Mausoleum Entrance. Confirm Link: Accept or Reject?     Again with the data stream in Staren's mind. Not a voice, exactly, but mathematical formula and reality code that translate themselves automatically for him. Machinespeak of some kind for a World Device.     And even as this message is silently imparted to him, it seems Wormfeast is gathering itself, amassing for a Phase Two as the 'shoulders' seem to be heaving and growing in breadth as more of itself rises from below. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren fires a couple more beam cannon shots at what's left of the head as he considers the offer. Linking here to... the blood forge? What would that do? He's got a couple ideas, but he can't really be sure.     Well, last time the mysterious system made the right call, bringing him here. If it wanted him dead it could have done so easily. [Accept], he thinks. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Worms are not typically known for being incredibly sturdy, but still, Priscilla is surprised at the ease with which Kord blows away most of its entire head. Fascinated by the repulsive sight of the long hollowed out skull beneath the writhing mass, she suddenly gains quite a solid understanding of why the colony had pressed itself into the misshapen human visage it has chosen, but the Count wins out in terms of what she wins up staring at more than the other.     "I hope then, Count Kord, that this means thou were not completely duped by those whispering voices of thine. Is this the power thou hast grasped for?" she asks. It seems as they near this last guardian, many promises and elusive, trailing threads have started to come to a head at once. Speaking of heads, however, her previous shot appears to have blown most of the remainder away, and thus she has to shift her angle. A few moments ago, she'd have cautiously written it as a victory until the Dead Lights didn't come, but now that she's had a glimpse of the skull beneath, she presumes the presence of an entire skeleton below.     While they have the reprieve, Priscilla makes a quick job of tidying up the horde a little, moving where the lurching bodies are thinnest and easiest to maneuver around without bumping into them and foiling her invisibility, and scything down swaths of vulnerable or out of place parisitized Unlit here and there, opportunistically trimming their numbers to open up pockets of free space, and reduce the density of the horde. Then, she makes for the nearest building that is just high enough to look down the hole, and plants her bow again, drawing a second arrow. She waits on firing it off until she gets a good look, though. The things are pretty massive, and she prefers to travel light, so she only carries three at a time. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' This is starting to get tricky! As the supply of Unlit thickens to a tidal wave of them Finna's confident gait gets jittery. More and more swipes and bites are aimed at her before she can even turn around. Eventually a creature gets a CHOMP on her ankle and she goes yelping down into the mass with a *THUNKWHUMP!*     The Unlit get a good ten seconds to claw and strike and pound and bite, and through it all Finna's shrieking and growling with growing viciousness!     Down and out? Nope. hardly.     Screeching out a shrill warcry, she makes her move...     Blinding silvery light spears through the gaps between rotting limbs, and with a surge of Essence a plethora of the horde is forced back in every direction. The flash of STEEL shines an UPWARD LUNGE from an impossible position - Finna's wielding wielding a huge metal construct of crescent shape, sharp enough to slice and dice on one side - and with numerous holes for finger grips and other things.     And right now Finna's wielding the thing with - rather than skill - just sheer intuition of 'apply strength and bladed edge to thing you want to chop'! ... And, amazingly enough, using her feet. Yes. Somehow, she's gripping the weapon with her FEET instead of hands for that rise.     A few Unlit are bisected cleanly through and go flying as she flips around in the air and shifts the weapon into a proper hand grip.     "Back where you came from, zombie-breath!!" For once, the insult is PRETTY LITERAL.     And that's when she begins to spin the thing above her head so quickly it whistles and shrieks gratingly at the ears! And then.. she seemingly releases it?!     The weapon goes flying from her hands from the spin-force, but a silvery glowing thread of Essence seems to connect it to her fingertips. Now she swings it overhead on a cord of Essence-silk - the same she uses to retract her knives!     Zombie Mower Manuever is born. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord can't hear Priscilla, for some reason. He just wildly, madly glows and wings up higher above the teetering mass of maggots. He accumulates more magical energy, puffing and panting from the exertion, feeling his own head ring with the headache of all the ambient, maddening noise around him. But then, abruptly, something stabs through the sound in his head, and he hesitates. A voice holding much more power over him, as it has guided him since his youth, speaks up. It hammers down the fuzz and the temptation, and reminds him:     They offer you power. You ARE power. You are Destruction's Brood. Do not be deceived.     And his mania abruptly calms to a dull roar, yet he picks up his assault right where it left off. This time, though, he frowns behind his mask, leering past the noise and the enhancement the dark brings. He speaks a few words, muffled by what he's doing, as he knows whatever being responsible for this noise will hear it. Then he flings yet more wind down into the Wormfeast, another swirling blast of air. In his world, this would be incredibly effective against bugs, so he's only using the wind blasts out of habit. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Kord opens up and just goes for the thing's weak point that Priscilla has made this is good it buys her more time to act and to try to not think about this horror. this time though Tomoe is making ready for another spell as the last one she let off, did some serious effects. Better than she could have done with a blade, though she'd not want to admit that openly. She's got her pride in being a swordsman. She;'s able to move a bit and is keeping air borne, but they come for her. Worms throwing themselves throwing at her and she's forced, to go on the evasive. She does find her opening finally and the chant starts up again. The runes come as she readies the light spell again trying to push it a bit harder this time as she does her best to aim it for the centre of mass of the Wormfeast. "TAKE THIS!" She does see the changes in her power? What is happening to her? At this point she's going to have to look into what's happened to her. She's also left open while casting... 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     No matter what these strange otherworldly forces may be that are giving them visions and messages and power-ups, they seem to be unified in purpose right now, each wishing to secure the demise of this particular monster. So as howling black winds accompany Kord's attacks, icy fists of shadow made flesh pummeling his foes and sending enormous force to each attack to sever and shred while drowning out the rest of the world; and as some unseen spectre lashes out to keep Priscilla safe, enabling her to use her ranged attacks without having to be concerned about being overrun and when she switches to melee nothing approaches her back that does not fall to the ground in pieces; and as Tomoe's spells tell Wormfeast 'no, this is not correct. Your forms should be divided apart. I will make it so.' and then she MAKES IT SO; and as Staren receives an analysis by what might by Lumiere itself trying to guide his hand towards understanding and error correction, even if that means redefining reality to fit its desired narrative (and perhaps his); and as Finna's blade sing with the long-forgotten sound of winds upon the Moon's seas in a time and place where it was possessed of life and water, a quiet voice chanting the names of those bodies of water with every strike that cuts through the hungry dead, it truly may feel like, for the first time, they really are the Prophecied Ones.     Those chosen by fate to save Lumiere.     Almost, because Tomoe was not one of those who ventured inside the Painting to meet Unpainted Priscilla and be told of her destiny as foretold by Los. Though she has a prophecy to her name, she is not one of the Six. And two of those Six are missing. Kushiko and Enark are absent. And so, there is still that sense that something is missing. They are not yet complete. But even so, by their own efforts, they have come this far, caught the attention of this world's powers, and received their boon.     Darkness, Moonlight, Law, Chaos. They are working together to make whatever vision of the future they desire a reality.     The red gate that Staren and Tomoe arrived via and accompanied by opens as a sense of acknowledgement flows through the former. The heat level increases tremendously as a constant flood of flaming blood pours out, dousing the swelling mass of worms, and sending them to shrieking bouts of agony as they are melted under the deluge. A bubbling mound of flaming undead flesh, that flows all the way down. From Priscilla's perch, she can see the effects of this, as well as the wave of forms that continues to rise. Others, in flight, like Kord and Tomoe, may see it as well. A huge arm made of worms, emerges. Many of the worms hred under the blast of wind from Kord, though now unaugmented by any additional power beyond his own. The visions he is seeing fade and melt back into 'reality' (is there such a thing as a single reality? Is this even the 'real' reality he is more familiar with?), and there is sense of loss as the additional power drains out of him. His 'vessel' was expanded to contain more of the Darkness. With it momentarily slipping away, there is now an emptiness left behind.     The whispers do not stop, but they are no longer offering power.     ----     Darkness - Count Kord:     Do not push yourself too far, too soon. You must acclimate to your new power. You do not wish to break or be consumed like the others. You will have more fitting foes to test yourself against, very soon. But when you wish it, you will have this power again.     ----     Whether this is in response to something Kord said or did or not, it does not appear the Darkness is actually acknowledging his words with its own. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Tomoe's spell however, is, as desired, even stronger than before. Instead of cauing damage, as it seemed to before, the effect this time is very clear. Red symbols sprawl across the flaming, squirming limb that surges up towards her. The runes and glyphs encircle it, blaze across it, and then activate. Again, she sets to right what is wrong. Instead of damaging the construct, she separates it. The worms pour en masse from their desired form and into the flaming blood, as the corpses they had woven together with their own bodies slip free of them somehow, filtered out by the runes that bend and turn the parasites towards the flame.     She has imposed Law upon these things, as well as the punishment for their attempt to violate it. Gradually, more and more, the monstrous giant melts and falls apart. Wind blasts tear into it, flaming blood melts it, zombies fall apart and release their Dead Lights to signifty their demise under the cutting blows of Priscilla and Finna, and rules are places that are inviolate and for which even the attempt results in execution, and at the end, there just isn't enough of it left to crawl all the way up anymore. It lacks cohesion, it crumbles and screams as the collective dies.     Priscilla's vantage point allows her to see the huge column of Dead Lights that erupt from the hole as all its myriad parts dissolve in a shrieking, tortured heap, leaving behind a blackened cork screw of charred and fused flesh leading downwards like a ramp of charcoal into the lair of the next Marble Guardian. Seemingly by change, the vortexes of wind Kord has unleashed, the heat produced by the river of molten blood that has now ceased with the gate's closing under its own initiative, the zombies that kept being toppled below by Finna, and the arrow that Priscilla fired, and the moonsilver fired by Finna, becoming a sort of spindly handrail leading all the way down. Perhaps it is the element of Law that Tomoe employed to give it such order, such form, that it could be used as a passage below.     Or maybe it was Fate.     Unlike when the Executor was slain, there does not appear to be any treasure to gather. But they have each gained something greater than any salvaged weapon, even if they do not yet know the full extent of it... Nor whether it can be trusted.             HUNT COMPLETED: WORMFEAST 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     A river of molten blood was indeed one of the possibilities Staren expected. He watches with satisfaction, and tries to give the connection the sense that he'd like to see the manual, although perhaps it's gone too quickly.     The wormfeat defeated, Staren lands by the hole to look at the staircase. "...So. It seems we've all been gifted some kind of helpful power here. What do you all think of this? Do you think it's truly on our side?" 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     There's an emptiness, and Kord shivers like he has been left cold and lonely in the forests of his homeland again. He watches the final chaotic slurry of attacks as the Wormfeast is finally, perhaps ultimately, destroyed. It fills him with a sense of relief and a soft sigh puffs from his mouth. Then he flits over to an edge of the hole while words echo through his head, peddling a promise of combat, of foes to further test himself against. He frowns in continued suspicion, despite what he has been given... he isn't one to trust a being that takes back what it gives just as easily.     Yveltal remains silent.     "..."     Kord just stares down into the hole in Lostrata, eyes fixated on the unknown bottom. The fear washes over him, acknowledged as a foreign feeling.     "I need a break," he decides, and he sits on the edge of the hole and crosses his arms.     "I think it wants us to do what it couldn't do on its own," he answers Staren. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla watches for several, long, silent minutes from her chosen point, atop a high building. She watches as Wormfeast dissolves and dies its agonizing death, watches as the active participant of the environment closes up and goes dormant once more, she watches as the abnormal spiral staircase forms, and she contemplates that descent, and that lair beyond, for quite a while, before putting away her weapons.     "It must, Sir Staren, else it wouldst hath passed up an uncountable myriad of opportunities to thwart us. Though Lumiere is now a killing field drenched in darkness and tragedy, it was, once, a mechanism with a purpose. Shouldst such a thing not wish its purpose restored?" 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna's not much for destiny - she was fated to die alone in a blizzard, being stalked by a Great Terror... but through raw determination to survive and outwit the beast her soul break through her destiny, and called Luna's blessing down from heaven. That hard-earned power now resonates with memories from another world, it would seem.     She's briefly entranced by the song that her spinning blade-on-a-thread sings as it's swung and carves apart the restless dead, the blade wreathed in a penumbra of wispy blue-white-silvery energies and shadows of her own anima.     The BOILING BLOOD DELUGE is the thing that breaks her out of that trance... mostly by triggering a reflex GTFOOD leap that sends her saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiling backwards an impossibly long distance - as if the air currents of this place couldn't bear to let go of her all too quickly.     Yet back down she does fall, landing nimbly as a cat...     And with a WHUNK-CHNG, the massive blade-on-a-string embeds one tip into the floor next to her, the silken thread falling slack to the ground similarly and pooling haphazardly every which way.     She stands there grinning rather madly - to hide the fact that she has UTTERLY NO idea what is happening here today. Her tail's wagging up a storm though!     "That's two down!" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren shrugs to Priscilla. "Not all things with a purpose also have volition. But perhaps so." 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' The effect of Tomoe's spell is being made clear to her, she watches as it forces the thing apart where it hits it. Her allies and friends just rip into thing one way or another. Something does not feel right something feels like they is something missing here. There is much she does not know, and much she has to learn. The battle goes on things get even more strange but the gate opens and something else is coming through and it looks like her spell is working but it's clear now she sees the strange symbols to her. She also watches in no small bit of awe as the thing comes apart as to what it should have been before it became twisted. She comes in for a landing just kinda of a moment to gaze on what happened. "I think my magic's been effected too.. and your right that is two down." "I think we did good..." She relaxes a little bit here as she sees the fight is over for now but things are far yet from over, there are things left to do for this world and she'll keep going. As the idea she has been changed and is going to have to look into this. 
}}

5558/Exploration: Chopping Grounds (2)

2018-02-02T04:22:16Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/11/09 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=Choices are made during a further exploration of the Chopping Grounds. |Cast of Characters=974, 954, 513, 42..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/11/09
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=Choices are made during a further exploration of the Chopping Grounds.
|Cast of Characters=974, 954, 513, 42, 6, 70
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     A few days ago, adventurers managed to hunt down and slay one of the key leaders in pushing forward the efforts of the butchers and bag-head men in the Chopping Grounds, as well as getting answers to some mysteries, while also turning up yet more questions in other regards. In particular, strange visions have now affected four people, and one of them is having increasingly more intense experiences with them as well.     Beyond the horror of the foe they faced and what he has been doing for so long, they have received tools almost as recompense for their trouble, left behind when the hill-sized behemoth finally dispersed. Kord's hands, stained heavily in the mutated Lit's blood and less wholesome fluids, may still be able to feel the sticky tar-like wetness. He can definitely see it, no matter how much he washes them.     As a matter of fact, Kord can see a lot of things.     And it's unclear how much of it is different from what others see. Some can be guessed at. Others... Fitting enough for Lumiere that it could very well be real.     But all of them, at least, have a path to follow, leading deeper and deeper into the Chopping Grounds, over walkways over flaming blood, past racks of weapons and tools, and below balconies and past holes with ladders leading down into dark spaces under the floor. At least, unlike many places in Lumiere, this place seems almost orderly. Planned and designed so that no matter how bizarre and twisting, there is a certain logic and intent to it, that makes simply picking a path and following it a good way to reach one's destination.     Of course, that isn't to say it doesn't come with complications. Shortly after arriving, they stumble across a Shrine of Light tucked away in a nearly-inaccessible alcove that has claw marks all around the edges. It appears to have been recently torn open from the opposite side, some monstrous creature tunneling through solid steel to reach the Shrine... Only to leave it unolested. The blood stains on the walls indicate that someone might have been hiding here, using the Shrine for safe entrance and exit, only to linger too long.     Regardless of the story behind it, they now have a much faster way of getting here from other Shrines than having to trek all along the Pristine Plagueway each time. That will be useful for next time.     But now, there are foes to face, and progress to make in locating the one they seek. The second Marble Guardian of Lostrata. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:''' Chopping Grounds (Darkness) - <Lumiere> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------     A path leading past racks of butcher tools and weapons descends lower and lower into the Chopping Grounds, beyond their forges and meat-chopping tables in the initial area. The sound of skittering insects plagues explorers, always rustling too-close-by whenever their attention drifts. The walls are heavily caked in blood, dry and fresh, and black stains are on everything.     The heat level continues to rise the lower one descends, as all around the smell of raw meat and blood chokes the air. Red silhouettes stalk the halls, some stand on balconies overhead, looking down upon those who pass below, while others follow intently, nearly salivating as they wait for the right moment to strike.     In a few places, where the steel is peeled away from the dark industrial structures, in the walls along the metal grid-pattern walk ways over rivers of flaming blood, flesh has been exposed underneath the layers of metal. It bleeds, rots, and sometimes twitches... Though whether of its own voilition, or because there's something inside of it, is hard to say. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Contents Count Kord <Your Mask Won't Come Off! It's Suffocating!> Finna <Bloody Tattoos Staining Fur> Priscilla <Something White And Fast Keeps Running Behind Her> Red Figures <Hunters Hunting> Staren <Wires Trail From His Skull. Is It Really Him?> Tomoe <One Eye Is Closed... What Is She Hiding!? Pluck It Out!> Wall Meat <Packed Tight And Dripping> Wounds <Stop The Bleeding. They Can Smell It.> 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord tries to maintain his cool. Even the most hardened, old men have their limits, and it appears this is getting to be a little much for him. As he picks a place to go and walks the path, the others more familiar with him may notice his head turning to look at things that aren't there, and his path veering around figures that cannot be seen, taking a wide berth while trying not to be too obvious about it. His mad behavioral quirks are clear responses to what others might believe are hallucinations.     He occasionally shakes a hand to try to shake the blood off of his hand, feeling it dripping, maybe even crawling over his skin, seeping into his gauntlets. He looks aside at spots on the wall, at exposed, oozing flesh, and grimaces behind his mask. He adjusts his mask a moment, knowing he fitted it correctly but the panicked pang rings in his belly. He notably avoids looking at anyone else in the party, seeming to flinch away each time he sees them.     "... do not tarry," he mentions, faking a calm affect. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' The handfuls of visions she's had in Lumiere... Finna recognizes them as such. They're signs of something. Or from someone. She's just not sure what or how or who. And so, she tries her best to remember them and hunt for signs.     But if she saw what Kord was seeing, she'd be doing her best to gouge them out of her mind.     "There's not enough fire even in the Elemental Pole of Fire to clean this place up!" She barks out, following along and rubbing her nose. For once she's in human form. Perhaps the smells are just a bit too much for her in animal form. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Robocat is on the case! Maybe he'll just stay a robot all week, seems like a lot of dangerous missions are coming up.     As they pass one of the weapon racks, Staren comments, "I wonder if this place at all corresponds to the actual geometry of a place that once existed, or if it's like the Abyss, generating a sort of minus-world decorated in the manner of a real place. Like, why the random weapon racks?" He decides to compare the next rack he comes to and see if it's identical -- or if any of the tools/weapons are identical -- to the previous rack.     Also, a new shrine of light! Staren checks whether the bloodstains are fresh.     "...Sssssso. Are all the marble guardians the same eye-and-chains deal, or are they each unique?" 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe has had quite the time here dealing with so many thing sin this world and the likes of Kord has it far worse than her. Not that she was fully aware she would look to FInna for a moment and sighs. "God causing another great flood on top of it might not scour it clear either." She's got tht new shield out for the moment and may put it to use but it leaves her a bit uneasy. "I doubt they would all look the same...Staten, I'm as ready as I will be though." 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Lords, Staren, don't start talking about the Abyss. This place is already bad enough, and Priscilla would prefer not to mentally overlay the meat and blood and torture with /that/ extra helping of otherworldly heebies. Staren can be a little more cavalier about it because he'd only been a visitor to that place.     Then again, they're all just visitors here, aren't they? It must be a wholly different story for the dead that have lived here for an eternity.     Priscilla is oblivious to the (possibly imaginary) white flash chasing her, proceeding armed and cautiously as ever. That caution rises at the sight of the claw marks, and then falls as she realizes it's already splattered its prey and moved on. It would seem, sadly, that the Shrines of Light do not have the relative safety of the Bonfires of Lordaran. Best not to linger anywhere but the Church, most likely. Priscilla briefly wonders how it's doing.     "Count Kord." she says in as level a tone as she can manage. "Art thou feeling capable of aerial survey this day? We hath little lead to go with, and I wouldst ill wish to wander this place at random. Try as I might, the best of which I hath thought is to goeth by the flow of blood." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Upon Staren's examination, the wooden racks and wall-rungs with weapons and tools end after a certain point, mostly just lining that one passage. They do not appear to be identical, with several being mostly or completely empty. If they serve a purpose, it is probably just what they appear to be for. Weapon storage, and a place to keep equipment where it will be easily accessible for those who dwell here to pick up and use when they have need of it. At least, unlike the specialzed custom 'tools' created by the Executor, these seem to be mostly normal items, even if most are sized somewhat large, and all appear to have been used for grisly work.     The street-width corridor they pass through, walls red from hue of the blood flowing beneath them, the heat intense as any furnace or smelting plant, seems mostly straightforward, though there are the various bolted doors and hatches, and when they pass onto solid metal flooring, they have the square access holes in said floor, and the ladders leading down from such to contend with. If Kord takes flight, he will see a rlatively open area, that seems to span the distance between this passage and the next section of the Chopping Grounds, where almost apartment-like buildings built of stone and black steel sit and wait for someone to open their doors, and step into their bellies. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "Which God?" Finna finds herself asking reflexively with a few blinks Tomoe's way... but she is otherwise occupied by the putrid stench of the place and the heat.     She bounds over to the nearest thing of interest - the claw marks. The blood...     "Errrrrrgh. Hate this place." But she shapeshifts back into fox form rather quickly, and tries to get a sniff of whatever beast was here. Although there's no telling WHEN it came through...     If she can track it, and know that it's not nearby, that will set her at ease.     "Who...?" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren lets Kord scout, although he at least walks to the end of the corridor to look around there himself. "Man, the Chopping Grounds are huge. Did a big city die? Is it all sort of... grown from an idea? Or do a lot of people actually live here? ...Though, if someone lived here, you'd think we'd see them." He shines a light down one of the access holes to see if it contains More City, or a different kind of terrain. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     The moment Priscilla suggested flight, Kord stuck out his strange, ethereal wings and took to the air. He carried himself upward to do some recon, but soon discovers they're heading to some enclosed structures, aside all of the other divergences that fall in their path between there and where he took off.     He decides to close the distance to the structures, not wanting to linger within the sight of any of these red apparitions that seem to haunt their every step. Not wanting to stand near whatever is following Priscilla around. "Structures, up ahead," he calls back to the others, dipping down briefly before his advance, probably supremely unhelpfully. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe says "The God of Christans, Jews and Mulsims." She nearly says something elswe but does not think now is the time for a deeper lesson with Finna. She just leaves it at that, iud she wants to press she'll talk about it later. THey hve bigger concerns now she looks at the racks for a momen there's nothing to worry avbout for it but the holes trouble her. With Kord scouting? She's confident enough to press ahead and keep her eyes out for any hazards that might come up infront of her. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Admittedly, Priscilla had actually expected Kord to be far more shaken and hesitant than he puts on. The thought that he might be eager to not be near some creepy figments of his imagination (or are they?) doesn't cross her mind, and so she just feels slightly concerned that she had offended him by coming off as patronizing. Nevertheless, he can both fly, and is in tune with the Darkness of this realm, and so he remains a fairly indispensible guide.     Every so often, she stops by one of the ladder-fixed conduits in the floor, to drop a prism stone down them, and get some vague idea of their depth, though she isn't even slightly eager to climb down any of them. She is significantly more cautious with prying open the odd bolted window just enough to peek inside. What Kord sees seems like the only real place to go, but that doesn't stop her from checking along the way. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Finna's investigation reveals little distinct beyond more smells of death and decay. There is something like an insect odor to it, pheremones of some kind, or at least chemical in nature. The trail is quite cold. Whenever this happened, it wasn't recent, and it doesn't appear the perpetrator or victim are anywhere nearby, thankfully.     Prying open bolted hatches in the walls causes a deluge of blood, limbs, and less identifiable pieces of meat to come pouring out, accompanied with extremely long mottled white and purple worms. After the first one, Priscilla may choose not to open any others. If she chooses otherwise, she will have a lot of dry cleaning to do when she gets back.     Unfortunately for Staren, as he chooses to personally investigate the access holes instead of sending down a drone to scout, he shortly finds himself under attack. Likewise for when Priscilla gets too close in order to drop down her prism stones. A misshapen creature begins to crawl up out of the hole, and then several others come from other openings as well. Roughly humanoid in that they are have two arms and two legs attachhed to a torso, the bags around their heads indicate that part at least can not possibly be human in shape. Elongated, bulbous heads, most of them squished out to almost look like an anteater's with their silhouettes bluntd by the fabric covering them, but most heads don't have quite so many fingers poking out of them, wiggling through small openings like prisoners trying to poke a hole in a wall to get the slightest hint of the world outside... Only to get their digits stuck and ripe for crows to come along and peck the flesh off of them.     This ambushers mostly seem to be wielding variants on equipment that would be used by mechanics or factory workers. Wrenches and such, but almost comically oversized. Almost, because they have been 'customized' with spikes, sawblades, blowtorches, and other so that they can serve effectively as weapons.     ---     Darkness - Count Kord     Whispering voices tell Kord as he witnesses the ambushers that they need those tools down there. That as they labor in the dark to keep the machinery of this part of Lumiere in operation, and to extend their reach into other sections, they must contend with terrors in the blackness. Silent things, cold things, with too many legs.     ---     Thankfully, Tomoe equipped with her new shield stayed close to the group and may be able to forestall some of the attackers and give everyone time to gather in one place rather than leaving their backs open to any of the many openings in the floor. Stand and fight, or make a run for it?     SOMEONE at least is making a run for it. Something white and fast... The thing Kord saw before, behind Priscilla!? No, this is smaller, more distinct, even if utterly without any impression of personhood of any kind. A young girl in a ragged, stained nightgown, with an enormous mass of white hair that completely conceals her head and trails out behind her as she dashes across the metal plating. Even her footfalls, though they produce sound, just seem to blend into all the surrounding noise. With the chaos of battle surrounding them, it's easy to see the child running and not register her at all if one isn't focusing intently.     Either way, however, she seems to be making her way towards one of the buildings on the other side. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Well Staren sure is glad he just shined a light down rather than climbing down! He fires his beam cannons and backs away. "Geeze, how many of these are there?! Good thing we didn't go ahead, they could've come up behind us!" At the moment he's more annoyed and jumpscared than actually worried. They haven't surrounded him, and he's made of metal. His immediate reaction is one of observing how much damage it takes to take them down, so he can select whichever weapon will mow them down most efficiently before they CAN overwhelm anyone! 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna decides that the only interesting thing about this ancient scent - likely distinguishable only from years of neglect and stillness - is that it reminds her of bugs more than anything with decent meat on it.     Her nose twitches a few times as she turns her imagination towards an enormous, skyscraper-sized... cockroach...     Bleeeeeeeeeegh. No. The image of an enormous praying mantis follows. She shivers and ducks back.     It's likely that one of those clapped her on the nose or something, knowing Finna's nosiness.     "Boo--"     No sooner does she start to vocalize her thoughts than the skittering, squelchy noises of THINGS crawling out of the woodwork draws her attention back to the others. CLEAR disgust gets her lips peeling back and legs motoring backwards. FINGERS SHOULD NOT BE COMING FROM SKULLS.     It takes the little fox a few moments to acclimate to that sight... but then quick movements. Flashes of... fabric? She struggles to follow the movements...     And eventually, after much confused self-guessing... she locks onto the long-haired girl.     Finna decides that this is a great time to effectively vanish from minds herself. Much like the hairy-girl's null-presence, minds slip over the fox's presence and ignore it. She slinks off after the girl, pretty confident that her allies can handle the freaky things coming from below for at least ten minutes! 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe will put the shield to use even iof it's not very good at defending it seem to bounce some of the force back at her foes and that's enough for her. She' unaware of the whispering that's getting into Kord's head directly. She has some idea given whaqt's been said but she's also noe being attacked and has to worry about keeping thse things at bay just what are these things and she tries to not think about the gorew that comes out from behind the bolted hatches, this place is a nightmare and she's trying to black out anything that she doe snot have to deal with right now such as keeping Staren from getting devoured if she can. "Come and face me you abombations!" 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord briefly pauses to look down at the horrific things that crawl out of the depths to greet everyone, wielding weapons that look like mechanical tools. He briefly pauses to assess them, frowning behind that bird-like mask of his, eyes scanning them to determine that yes, they are indeed 'real' to the others and they are reacting to them.     Once he does, he pulls one hand back, a flash of black and red energy glows from his hand, and he fires a pulse of Dark magic energy down at the creatures, trying very hard not to hit people that would complain at him if he caught them in the crossfire. Then, once the magic clears, he distractedly flexes and shakes his hand, as if it were coated in something that isn't there. He gives it only that one shot, which would've shockwaved down one of the holes that these things are crawling up out of.     Then he turns to continue to the structures, more curious about those than a fight with creepy beasties. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Of course. Of course just opening a window a crack would spill a practically pressurized mess of meat and blood and utterly revolting worms, like the place was stacked to the rafters with it. Of course stopping to just throw a little tiny coloured rock down the grates results in an ambush, aggroing a swarm of yet more horrors from below. Every time Priscilla thinks she's started to establish a baseline of reasonable expectation from Lumiere, it just gets even more offensively terrible. Ever since a flight of stairs had turned out to be a mimic, her entire experience here had been essentially rolling the dice every time she touches anything. Literally anything.     There is no small amount of tired, revolted, and mildly angry exasperation in the way she lets her hands slip all the way to the very end of her scythe in a sudden, swift, two-handed swing, and thus extend its reach to an insanely long and wide arc that gives in to its own momentum in order to rip through three quarters of the space around her in the blink of an eye, without any thought to graceful maneuvering or defense afterwards. She simply looks to literally scythe down everything within lunging distance of her at once, whether they actually die or simply lose too many limbs to immediately press in, and then she vanishes, buggering right off down the street.     Kord can fly, so can Staren, Finna can turn into a fox thing, and technically her light can power Tomoe's fairy wings if the dedicated tank somehow can't shore up the retreat. Screw this. She's done. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Staren's beam cannons seem to work just fine. At least in the sense that blasting one as it was climbing up the ladder sends it flailing and smoldering back down into the depths, tumbling through darkness. Likewise, any further attacks seem to burn them up well enough. As well, Tomoe's shield grows wooden spikes when enemies strike it with their tools, causing them to impale themselves on the shield for their trouble, enduring a portion of the damage they try to inflict. They are strong from their tireless working, nimble as they try to duck back and dodge attacks if they can 'see' them coming (with their head-fingers or by some other sense?), intelligent as they try to circle around Staren and Tomoe to attack them from other angles.     But the biggest issue soon becomes that they keep coming up out of the holes, and the number of enemies very shortly becomes much greater than the number of explorers, with no sign of stopping. Even as Priscilla mows them down a dozen at a time, sending them toppling into Dead Lights-distintegrating piles that are soon gone, more just keep coming up out of the murder holes after them. Having turned invisible, they are at least not after her anymore, but they continue to try to pile onto Staren and Tomoe, swinging wrenches and stabbing with screw drivers and blasting with blow torches.     Finna follows after the girl, who squirms through the opening between frame and a chain-covered door, to the room on the other side. If Finna follows, she will find a small room, the size of a very modest living room, with maps, papers, and writing all over the walls and floor. There is no sign of the girl.     Kord releases his blast, knocking several of the mechanics back down the holes or flattening them against the floor. However, something happens. The floor jerks and jolts under the impact. Several plates drop out of the grid-like frame entirely, and the grid itself falls a couple inches. There's a brief moment, accompanied by the sound of straining metal, and bolts and screws popping out of place, where even the mechanics look to each other in horrified realization of what's about to happen, and then they scramble back towards the ladders that still have more of them coming up them, or towards the edges of this platform... Too far to reach in so short a time. Under the weight of so many bodies, jostled by the blast that Kord levelled, a blast that may have been stronger than he intended... Like something else poured additional power into it... 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The entire platform just *drops*, ladders, mechanics, and adventurers all, down into the darkness. The very distant sound, amidst all the screaming and clanging metal as huge sheets of steel collide in mid-air, of great machines working tirelessly, indicates that those who are falling may soon be finding out what kind of things these Dead things have to fight.     Flaming blood explodes down out of torn open channels, creating flesh-melting waterfalls pouring down from above them. Those in free-fall, even those capable of flight, would be better served securing those who can not fly and carrying them downwards out from under the deluge, and/or avoiding all the crap coming down on their heads, than trying to go upwards into it while trying to dodge falling debris. However, whatever people choose to do in that handful of seconds, and the ensuing panic and chaos as the world literally collapses on them, three are left above, and the rest below, at least for this moment.     The party has been split. And for that moment, the world flickers and shifts.     Suddenly, the apartments and street are smooth white temple walls for Priscilla and Finna, covered in crescent moons, the streets lined with glittering stones unlike anything that could be found on Earth.     Suddenly, the air that Kord flies through is over a near-identical version of the Chopping Grounds, but the floor that just collapsed is solid, the arrangement of passages slightly different, and the apartments he headed towards are darkened, the walls covered in black, wet, pulsating mold and corruption like was seen in the Temple of the Drowned.     Suddenly, there is no sign of the Chopping Grounds above Staren and Tomoe, just a vast emptiness, from which the waterfalls of blood and wreckage fall, as they descend towards through blackness.     Below them, a black marble expanse, and a gate covered in skeletons, trying to hold the doors closed. However, these doors are a bright red, and standing at the end of a bridge over a lake of blood, while all around, the sound of machinery and hissing pipes produces a constant background noise.          The balance of power has shifted.             The Darkness grows stronger. 
}}

5546/WANTED: Executor 13 (2)

2018-02-02T04:07:19Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/11/03 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=Boss fight time. Executor 13 faces a crowd of powerful Elites in a chamber full of custom-made torture equip..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/11/03
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=Boss fight time. Executor 13 faces a crowd of powerful Elites in a chamber full of custom-made torture equipment.
|Cast of Characters=974, 42, 993, 954, 513, 70, 6
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Wheels covered in spikes and restraints. Tables with buzzsaw blades built into them. Iron maidens, stretching racks, tubs of acid and boiling oil, branding iron, pliers for tearing off body parts, a dazzling variety of blades specialized for particular kinds of torture, boxes full of those black-steel roaches with latches for shutting victims inside, blade-tipped funnels with dozens of different substances and creatures lined up in pits and tanks to be forced into someone's body, whether by mouth or a newly-carved hole... Everywhere one looks, the large room is made by small by the cluttered impliments of torture, many of them invented over the impossible lengths of time since the world became empty of all life up to the present.     And what they just witnessed was a Lantern having the concentrated essence of Despair in the form of molten blood forced into them to prevent their resurrection by removing their patchwork-soul's desire to do so against their own will.     And the one behind it all, an enormous mass of muscle and flesh, the top half of his head gone, and only a vampiric, bat-like mouth of cavernous proportions for his lower half, now steps forth to challenge them after performing his grisly execution. Nozzles and valves implanted all over his body indicate the places where the Exector takes injections of blood, or whatever, to sustain the hunger infused into him by a twice-dead King in ages past. No doubt, the Executor has built up such a resistance to the blood-based drug that bestows the sensations of life once more upon the Dead forces him to keep finding new places to take in injections so that he can get more of the substance at a time.     Though by this point, it is hard to imagine there is any of the drug left in sufficient quantity to appease the body of what amounts to a ghost who is so thoroughly addicted as to have become this towering, forty-foot monstrosity.     As he lifts a gigantic guillotine blade with a handle attached as his weapon, the Executor steps forth with a terrible roar to confront the intruders.     Outside, Luna has just had a terrible encounter with the corpse-bird things from which the fluid is extracted to prevent Lanterns from discorporating when they would ordinarily do so from suffering sufficient damage. A preserving enzyme of some kind, to ensure Unlit monsters have plenty of time to digest and extract Dead Lights from their prey, turned to the purposes of butchers and torturers.     Everything about this operation screams that it needs to be shut down for good, but to accomplish that, they must first deal with the target they have come here to eliminate. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Well, the decor certainly shows that someone's been... inventive.     In places like this, it's almost a curse to have the sort of mind Staren does -- one with no 'too horrible to contemplate' filter. He can guess at how they'd be used. At least there's something else here to take his mind off it:     The executioner. Or perhaps torturer is a better title? Either way, it is for once an opponent at a scale entirely appropriate for him to fight against in his mecha!     Shame he doesn't have it with him.     For the moment, Staren runs to get out of cleaver range. An opponent simply being big doesn't exactly intimidate him -- his weapons may not be as big as the mecha's, and he may not be able to fire as many missiles at once, but they're still designed to take on the same kind of threats -- but it certainly does present its own unique challenges.     He wonders if all those tubes are weak points. It sure would be nice if they were.     In the mean time, while trying to put some distance between them, he fires back wildly with the beam cannons. He doesn't exactly have to /aim/ at a target so big, but this is mostly to get an idea of how damaging his weapons are against this foe, without taking advantage of weak points. Have to establish a baseline before you can start experimenting, after all! 

:'''{{#var:993|Princess Luna (993)}} has posed:'''      After what she saw in that cage, Luna is reeling a bit. But, she moves to join the others for now. She isn't sure if these creatures within the prison are creatures that need saving, or if they are monsters themselves that might deserve to be imprisoned for something. It is hard to consider them potential victims with their grotesque appearance, even for a pony from a land of love and tolerance.      When she reaches the others, Luna is met with a sight that is not exactly better than the one she just left. But at least it is very clear that this creature is a monster that needs to be either subdued or destroyed. The others might think one of the butchers has made its way up here, but the image shimmers before giving way to the majestic pony princess holding her enchanted scythe. She doesn't look well though, obviously having some trouble with all the things she has seen and is seeing here. "If banishment to the moon for a thousand years was my punishment, then this creature's fate is sealed." she says, gripping her weapon tightly.      However, as she often does, Luna does not attack with the scythe. Instead, her horn glows brightly with her signature pale blue energy before she takes to the air and fires a powerful beam right at the belly of the gigantic Executor. "Begone, fel creature!" 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord expressed no shock or bewilderment at the sight of the torture devices. He was, instead, visibly taken aback as he realized what was being used on the Lantern, what had been decided was necessary to dispose of those beings for good. He remembers the hordes of Unlit, and for a moment empathy flashes in his mind... the intense despair of rejection was enough to drive many of them to madness before it ever scattered their souls. He didn't feel too much hate for this, but what he did feel was revulsion. Pragmatism or not, it was a barbaric way to handle this, and it rankled everything in him.     Which is why his weapon was tightly gripped in both hands, his scythe humming under the tension of his demigod strength. His fingers ached from the raw unhappiness in his gut when the incredible blood addict presented itself to them. He flapped his wings once to retreat from the creature's immediate range for a melee strike, and lifted his scythe in one hand. Then, he chucks his weapon as hard as he can at the core of the Executor's mass, trying to slice the creature. When it hits or misses, Kord holds out his hand to recall the scythe back to him, the weapon drawn back toward him through the air by an invisible force. It would be enough to kill an ordinary man, but Kord doesn't want to get close enough to get hit, acknowledging the level of threat at display here. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna's disgust-meter is already off the charts. Coming across such a detestable assortent of torture equipment... her mind isn't quite creative enough - or morbid enough - to appreciate half of what she sees.     But what she does understand is more than enough. And so the little fox bares its teeth at the butcher before them...     Silver moonlight pours forth from the little vixen's flesh, and in a matter of moments she's growing, rocketing upwards in height to a full seven height of humanoid fox, arms and legs rippling with tight but poweful predator-muscle. The were-fox takes only a few moments to part her toothy jaws and BELLOW out out a screechy warcry with her muscles rippling in waves and gearing for battle before blitzing into action.     With very human-like movements the beastform Finna has become reaches out into empty space and grasps solid moonlight. This little glimmer expands with a flash out into the form of a long and intricately designed bow made of a blue-silvery material that glows in harmony with her wispy moonlight aura. Tribal carvings run up both sides of the massive bow, a bow far thicker than any mortal could hope to draw. The string seems to be made of some ethereal, brightly glowing material.     Finna reaches into her fur and draws out an arrow from the same nowhere-space that the bow came from... a rather sizable arrow fitted for the Moonsilver Bow.     She draws it back with a vengeance, takes aim at the butcher of the dead... and fires!     THe arrow ripples strangely halfway through its flight... and with a flash, splits into three. The trio of silvery meteors rocket off in seperate directions and ricochet symphony off of dozens off the implements until finally homing in on the enormous creature's posterior.     "Vengeance time, you sick freak!" 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     What disturbs Priscilla more than anything else, including the absurd collection of innumerable torture devices throughout time, is that the fact that she can inherently /feel/ the Executor is still a Lit. Not an Unlit, not a Lantern, not an automaton or some abomination of corpse flesh. This thing --this man-- had not died a second time at all. Something had done this to him while he yet retained his original form, and his original memories. It's something Priscilla wouldn't think possible without it staring her in the face, and that more than anything is confusing, and upsetting.     Also, the guy is even bigger than her. That's really saying something. Even in huge mode, Priscilla pretty much comes up to his stomach. Fortunately, she hasn't revealed her presence at the moment, and so she gets one shot at taking advantage of it. The minute the Executor swings that cleaver, she'll be in the way, catching it on the haft of her invisible scythe to surprise and distract him, and then use the gargantuan, curved blade to slip behind his ankles and pull them out from under him (ideally, cut them off, but still). 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe just stares for a moment she knew things could get twisted in this world of the dead, yet? This was a new thing was a horror and a half though. She readies her weapon and looked up at the what is likely their target. She also tries to not think too hard about what she's seen she doesn't need to lose it in a situation like this. She thinks no of the horror she's has seen she's nor ready to jut make this shit burn, it needs to be brought crashing down. The huge monster would end up hearing Tomoe chant as she's going to just start launching fire at it all the fire she can muster in a single spell casting. This should also hopefully pull the thing's attention upon her. She does not like the butcher and she intends to put an end to them. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Staren's beam cannons seem to be effective in the sense of dealing damage, though aside from irritated grunts, the monstrous soul doesn't seem to be particularly put off by the pain. Then again, it's hard to say whether he's feeling any pain at all, even as his leather flesh crisping and burning under the onslaught.     Luna's attack likewise drills a hole in the massive being's body, pushing him back, and he just keeps walking into it, almost unaware. He releases another sonic burst of echolocation to gauge where his opponents are as he maneuvers his way through the maze of equipment, filling the room with the thunderous reverberations that sent the world to wobbling and swaying. Kord's scythe tears a deep gouge in the Executor's belly, spilling a black ichor mixed with calcified lumps of something-or-other onto the floor to be crushed under foot, but still without any apparent reaction despite the weapon returning to its thrower with a dirtied blade. Rather than blood, it is almost like goopy, wet tar, such is its putrified state.     Unlike Unlit and Lanterns, who have had ages to lose all semblance of odor or signs of life, this being, who has clung to his addiction for so long, smells quite alive, in spite of the fact he is definitely not.     The blind giant receives an arrow of moonlight in his back, sending him taking an unsteady step forward under the impact, but with another rattling echo that bounces off the walls as surely as Finna's projectile did, he determines where everything is again, and sets off purposefully. He swings his guillotine-club one way, then the other, sweeping aside all in his path through a combination of physical force and powerful rush of air. The weapon clashes with an unseen solid object on the swing aimed at Luna, cracking the ground beneath Priscilla's feet if she manages to retain her footing under the blow. The Executor hesitates momentarily, releasing another burst of echolocation directly at Priscilla at point-blank range. Of course, her 'perfect invisibility' prevents the Executor from finding her, and with her diverting the force rather than simply trying to tank it, so that she can move around behind to the hole Finna drilled into the enemy with her arrow, to scythe his legs out from under him, he doesn't have long to contemplate what is happening.     He soon topples over, crushing torture equipment beneath him, right as Tomoe douses him in flames. Still, through rattling breaths, the Executor seems unperturbed beyond general frustration with the difficulty he is having, and gets to his feet, torture wheels and blades sticking out of him all over, oblivious to the fire coating his form and spreading to the surroundings.     He raises his guillotine-club over his head and then brings it back down, sending a wave of black energy radiating outwards in a cone-shape before him. In an enclosed space like this, with equipment filling almost every part of the room, this might be about to result in something painful for those who can't find a place to be other than in that blast wave. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Pricilla knew a 40 foot tall tub like this was going to be strong, but her joints still demand that she regret her choice of action when she has to soak the tremendous force through her arms and down through her legs anyways. Keeping footing isn't the problem. Her feet are practically driven into the stone, painful even for her supernaturally hardened flash. Taking its feet out is the desired outcome in return, but the crossbreed is baffled and perturbed by the Executor's total lack of reaction.     "Even a beast that feels pain no longer shouldst at least be aware of such blatant wounds. It is not as if it feels them not, but as if it is not aware that they existeth. Such goes beyond a simple removal of the reflex." Of course, Priscilla can only guess at what exactly was /done/ to him, and now isn't really the time to heavily contemplate it.     Invisible or not, Priscilla doesn't really have the room to be where the black wave isn't. The best she can do is draw Moonlight, and let its blue-white light flare up through her transparency (ironically, a non-drawback with the blind foe), swirling with motes of densely magical light. She turns its flat side towards the rush of energy, and braces against it with a flash of luminous souls, soaking as much of the attack as she can with the sword's powerful magic-repelling properties. "The nozzles and hoses may yet be a pertinent choice, Sir Staren!" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Well, the damage is encouraging, but the lack of reaction isn't. Has this thing lost its senses of touch and pain? They could use that, though. Any attack that isn't especially visual... Something like a strong acid on its back might eat it away without it even noticing...     Staren starts mentally marking the tubes for missile targeting, but before he can fire, here comes a wave of strange energy! He'll just have to hope his forcefield and armor can stand up to it -- against all but the most exceptional weapons, they can usually take at least a few attacks... it's what they're made for, after all! The forcefield isn't particularly strong against magic, but isn't weak against it either like it is to hails of bullets.     If he's able to recover from that, Staren fires. A half-dozen minimissiles that steer themselves towards the places where tubes meet flesh before exploding in balls of fire. The damage should be substantial in any case, but Staren hopes if he can break the tube connections, it might deprive the executor of some vital nutrient. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna takes note of the Executor's strange way of seeing in no time at all. Her own ears are pretty sharp and while she can't quite echolocate in this form, she definitely picks up on the pattern of echoes and his shape enough to realize what he's doing. "Sound-sight! Aha!!"     Leave it to the shapeshifter to understand something pretty damned complicated and scientific, if only because she's used it before, right?     Of course the Executor's lack of any and all pain sensitivity or reflexes prove troublesome. She was hoping he would flinch... but that seems to not be a thing anyone can count on this time!     BLACK WAVES of awful things and torture tools were last on her list of things to expect though. There's little time to do more than shield her face with the her MOonsilver bow and arms. Nails and blades and wooden planks and other things slam into her at high speed even as the black energies rip into her flesh and tear out huge chunks of fur. All the while Finna howls in protest as she's pierced and slashed again and again..     The wave passes, and she's on one knee, covered in nasty gashes and impaled with all manner of filthy torture tools from top to bottom.     But Finna gathers herself up despite the pain and the bucket of blood dripping from her many wounds (which should be far, far more blood), rears her head back and SCREEECH-YOWLS. A shockwave of moonlight Essence courses through the room as her anima doubles in intensity. The dozens of implements are FORCED OUT of her flesh by new growth. With a snarl she draws back her bow again, with fresh arrows pulled from her Elsewhere pockets. Again and again she draws and fires, this time aiming for those strange tubes Staren was yammering about! 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe see that this thing seems to be alive or at least mimicing it better than anyone fromt his dead world she has ever met before and her fire is hopefully working to burn it away, she's not sure how much more she can dish out but she's not alone there are other people who are far heavier hitters than she is here. A fact she is most thankful for, at this point in time. She will chant again but she's cut off as the huge weapon is raised and the attack comes down. She's forced to get the heck out of te blast wave or get wrecked by the blast wave. She now moves to getback to her feet but this will take a moment as he now tries to start casting again, for another torrent of fire blasts at the thing. Ranged is not her best skill but it's better than keeping up close to this thing, which would not prove to be a wise idea at this point in time with how it attacks. 

:'''{{#var:993|Princess Luna (993)}} has posed:'''      Princess Luna would have avoided the slow strike from the gigantic creature, but the wind force is enough to send her tumbling even with Priscilla blocking the blow. She is forced to land again, but can't really tell where Priscilla is. And with that wave of black energy coming in she thrust out a hand and her horn glows brightly as she throws up a quick forcefield of her own. She winces and her mane and tail flutter in the intense wind as the black wave crashes over her, deflecting around her magical forcefield for a few moments before it starts to crack. She holds out a few moments, but soon enough the magic shield shatters and Luna goes flying back, smashing somehow perfectly into one of those iron maidens lying around. Her eyes widen and she screams as the lid comes crashing down.      A few moments later, the iron maiden is exploded apart from within. But Luna is not unscaythed. She is left crouching on hands and knees, panting a bit as redness stains her pale blue pelt from multiple small wounds all over. She even winces and pulls one of the small spikes from her left shoulder. "W-well...it seems we will have to do better..." she says before standing tall again. She spreads her wings, then rushes in toward the monster with her scythe raised. She arcs up toward his weapon arm and curls up, somersaulting through the air before bringing her scythe down in an attempt to slice deeply and perhaps even through his elbow. She may not have a Lantern-killer, but her magical weapon is still quite dangerous and very sharp. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord swings his weapon so hard that an enormous streak of fetid gunk splatters across the floor and all the nearby torture devices, the blade shining in the gloom under the flash of everyone else's efforts. He keeps himself aloft, his feet lifted to prepare for a kick-off if he needs to retreat from a sudden lunge. But the others have the Executor suitably occupied, and so he has nothing to worry about while it's being thoroughly distracted. He observes passively as it moves through the room, reacting to their attacks, and one of its swings nearly knocks him right out of the air-- but it narrowly misses a direct hit. A spray of blood comes from under his cloak, but his armor and dress conceals the gash and its severity for now.     He shouts in pain, and retreats further back, but endures the sensation after his blurred vision regulates. He uses the agony to focus on the battle and what others observe of the creature. Its echo-location... ah, yes. It really needs to be dealt with. He ducks away from shockwaves of energy, abusing his full mobility to its utmost so he can get into position. He ducks silently through the air, and brings his scythe up over his shoulder to viciously swipe horizontally at the 'ears' atop the mutant Lit's head. As he does, the scythe threatens to lop the protrusions off, but it's not the only thing he's doing in this attack. Wind magic follows the blade, lengthening the stroke of the scythe and emitting a buffeting of air that could just as easily blow out ear drums or even briefly stun even an ordinary target. His attack, however, puts him very close to the Executor, and it reveals his position in the air, so he is left very open to attack. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The shockwave, aside from the fact it is visible and possibly has some elemental affinity to it related to pain, seems to possess no particularly unusual properties to it. At least not that would be immediately observed. Though any hurt, wounds, or similar may stand out more than normal in the bleak cold that lingers behind. Oh, wait, that's probably it. It's an attack that increases the damage enemies take, or at least increases their awareness of it, by amping up their pain sensitivity.     That is probably not an attack anyone wants to keep getting hit with, especially if its effects stack. Just once is enough to make all forms of physical suffering sharp as an icy razor to the senses. If it gets worse each time (and given this one's profession and works up until now, there is no reason to think it won't), the advantage of a hulk of unfeeling spirit-meat like this contrasted against very-much-capable-of-feeling-pain living folks could turn this into a battle of attrition that does not favor them.     Thankfully, it seems some sort of result has occurred from targeting the Executor's injection ports. As they are blown out of him by Staren's missiles, and Finna's arrows, jets of pressurized red, completely unlike the black ooze slowly leaking out of the Executor's injuries, spray out of the gouged out flesh from the deeply implanted cylinders that extend into his body's interior. And THAT gets a reaction.     A painfully loud roar of anger bounces all up and down the scale and echoes off everything (made even worse by the pain-amplification debuff) though still, oddly enough, it contains no pain. Even as Luna brings down her size on the thick arm of a mix of muscle and hanging skin, carving almost all the way to the elbow and leaving the appendange dangling by the joint, the behemoth just turns his back to his enemies and starts urgently walking towards the back of the room, and the gray cylinders of pressurized drugs he is reliant upon. He just grabs one of the large hoses with its even larger needles and jams it into his body without aiming for one of the injection ports. He starts pumping the drugs into himself to replace what was lost. In the process, his body begins to exhibit more signs of life. Beyond just odor, which includes not only rot but also sweat, his skin begins to gleam with that latter moisture as his lungs work to draw in air. Ah, yes. He is also breathing, as evidenced by the steam cloud forming before his mouth with every exhalation, not to mention the sound, if anyone can still hear things after the barrage their own ears have been taking.     Speaking of which, as Kord releases his wind-infused scythe strikes at the Executor's ears (or what's left of them. They're half-gone already), they get cut right off. And while it is not certain that he is reliant upon them, the screech of pain that rewards Kord's attack, as painful as the screech may be, like a cloud of giant bats all blasting their chittering at once, a completely non-human-sounding noise, is an indication that he felt that.     And some puzzle pieces might click there as the Lit turns away from his drug supply and turns back about swinging his dangling arm back and forth, the nearly-severed appendage now turn into a flail weapon as he tries to sweep away anyone who was standing too close. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Okay, so the attack doesn't seem to bad. Staren's forcefield is damaged and he's sent tumbling away from the Executor. But while this is usually more annoying than painful, now every impact is like stubbing his toe or something. He cries out in pain, and groans as he gets back to his feet. He doesn't feel pain much, but when he does, it's usually pretty bad -- someone stabbing through his armor, for instance -- so he has enough willpower to push on, for now. The roar of anger draws his hands to his ears and elicits another cry.     And then the executor stops paying attention... to reveal another weakness! Staren takes aim and fires at the tank, aiming to blow a big hole in it and derive the executor of most of this dose. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla emerges more or less unscathed by the blast attack, which is strange, but a relief. When she sees 'gigantic, seething black blast wave', she naturally expects some kind of heinous necrotic magic, or some such similar. It doesn't seem like a big deal, until an errant flying meat hook catches her across the cheek, and the glacially hardened killer crossbreed actually falters to clutch at the cut and hiss between her teeth. Oh fuck that.     Even the blasts of sound hurt her ears, and she can't exactly turn those off. Even wincing at those, however, she can't miss the signs of (gross, filthy, unhygienic) life returning to the butcher/torturer, and Priscilla's suspicions of the 'drug' he is seemingly addicted to return in force.     Kord has a decent idea with the ears, but on the off chance the Executor can still hear, Priscilla follows up with the mouth, so he can't keep screaming. Wresting herself free from the cages and chains, she whips her Lifehunt Dagger out of her sleeve, and sends the thing (the size of a greatsword at this point) hurtling across the room in a competition spin, aimed to plant itself straight in the back of the executor's throat, if not his spine (assuming that even /does/ anything), and thus make it impossible to keep screeching, all the while the blade eats away at his returning life force. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Yep. That's a thing that's going on. The big dumb Executor is so completely out of it that, even as people wail on him, he's more concerned with his weird drug fix than his own life...     Finna's lips - vulpine though they may be - do a very human show of pressing together thinly as nausea and disgust bubble up into view across her face. "....Ewwwwwwwwwwwwww."     Plus all that weird OOZE burbling out of him that definitely isn't any blood she's familiar with.     This? This is why she decided to use the bow. Even if her body's currently tingling WEIRDLY from the aftereffects of the black wave. She's healed all the wounds and they no longer hurt, but where the wounds were her flesh is tingling weirdly and distractingly from trying to purge that curse...     "..... He's almost... pitiful..." She spits out, shoulders sagging during a brief lull of watching him instead of keeping up her fire.     But keep on firing she still does. Arrow after arrow aimed at places she can only HOPE are at least SOMEWHAT important to his life. The plugs, joints, whatever. 

:'''{{#var:993|Princess Luna (993)}} has posed:'''      The ear-piercing cry stuns Luna, leaving her clutching at her ears and crying out in agony. Her flight falters and she starts to fall before the creature finally stops. When she sees that the others are having quite a bit of luck against the creature, Luna's ears perk back up...only to get assaulted by the terrible sound of the bat screeches. When that passes, Luna is left on the ground, curled up in a futile effort to steel herself against the pain.      It is a few moments before she can get a grip on herself, and in that time Luna is knocked away again. This time by that arm-flail. She manages to cushion her fall with her wings, but between her ears feeling like they are bleeding and the various other injuries she has now, she can't maintain flight. When sees what the others are doing she moves to help. With Staren attacking the storage containers, Luna uses her magic to try and reverse the flow of the behemoth's injector. Hopefully, this will pull the drug out of him rather than letting him get more juiced up. Of course, it might pull nastiness out as well..but Luna has pretty much gone numb to what she is seeing here. She'll have time to process or block it out later. Now, they are in a fight not only to survived, but to prevent the permanent death of this world's residents. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord is recovering from the blowback of his own attack when the limp club of an arm swings and hits him square in the middle. Having been clipped by his pain-amplification ability, he is just knocked clean out of the air. His cloak whips about with a clothen noise as he slams into the floor and BOUNCES off of it with a strangled bark of pain that sounded inhuman. He struggles to push himself up to his feet as cold knives of agony dig into his body to a degree he is not used to.     "Hrrrrrh..." he growls, his eyes a pair of wide bright blue circles with pupils shrunk almost nothing, the irises almost overcoming the whole darkness in the helmet.     He then surges past that pain. He drops his scythe, and he jerks his hands forward in a claw formation. Shadows build in the room, becoming an oppressive swirl in front of him, stretching from his feet and deepening the darkness in the periphery in everyone's vision. It doesn't quite blind anyone. Then he jerks his hands up like a conductor DEMANDING an upturn in volume, revealing his seeping wound and the great big gash in his ARMOR from the hit the Executor managed to clip him with, bare skin visible and seeping red blood. It must hurt like hell.     It helps him focus on what he wants to do.     Jagged swords of darkness stab upward from the ground, aiming for as many of those injection ports as he can. The shadows do not have the smooth shape others would be used to from seeing him do this, but an imperfect shape suggesting they could very well miss wholesale, but he relies on sheer number to try to overwhelm his target. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' The shockwave could also be used Tomoe mused to bring the whole place down on this thing's head and make sure no one could ever make use of the horrors here ever again or so she hoped but could she trick the thing into doing that? That's the question and now she's got to worry about the massive thing's size and just how much mass it has to bring against her. Shemoves again as she did not wnat to make an easy target of herself. She sees it run for more drugs and he's got to be kept from them as best she can. She dances back from the the thing not waning to get hit she is also trying to not puke, this ios just ... so disgusing tomoe is cracking slightly at the horror and then she leaps up casting this time a light ray spell trying to aim fo the thing's head it won't do much damage but it might distract hte horror for her allies. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     One of the drug tanks gets blown up thanks to Staren, leaving only a severed cable dangling from his upper torso. The roar this time is strangled by Priscilla's sword thrown through his throat, causing a shrill whistling to get added to a new distorted cry. It's not as effective either for echolocating or as a sonic attack, though still generally unpleasant. Either way, with his chitterings both being unfocused and having a huge gap in them, and his ears being severed, he is BASICALLY blind. Regardless of the sound still being produced, it's no longer effective as a detection method.     The continuous leeching of spirit energy by the blade doesn't help at all.     The arrows from Finna continue to pound into the Executor as he swings his arm flail around wildly until it snaps off thanks to those silver arrows slamming into the elbow joint enough times to finish the brutal flesh-rendering that Luna started. The arm goes flying off somewhere and crashing into a bunch of stuff, sending a mass of scorpion-creatures pouring out of their container onto the floor.     Luna's magic may not have the anticipated effect, but it has one potentially even more devastating as the Executor feels around numbly, grabbing the hoses for the other drug tanks and jamming them into his body wherever he can. Rather than reversing the flow, due to them not being hooked up to anything, the injectors start building up air pressure. The air bubbles flow through the mostly-non-functional circulation system as more and more air builds up, forcing it deeper. So more eruptions of crimson mist burst out all over, especially from the new wounds produced by the hastily-introduced hoses as it seeks escape. The drug can't enter properly, the needles continuing to vent around the fluids pouring into him.     Blades of darkness slam into the hulk over and over and ove, tearing and piercing and impaling, locking him in place, and more of his calcified innards pouring out in a steaming heap as though he were actually still alive. Now unable to move, staggering on his feet, and missing at least one of his limbs, it seems the prospect of being chased down is now absent. That gives these more mobile opponents a better chance of avoiding harm. Especially since, without any other method of attack, the weakening, confused, blind and deafened Lit, can only resort to slamming down his guillotine club over and over, releasing wave of pain amplification after wave. He can't judge where in the room they are, so he just attacks one direction, and then another direction, and then another, sending wood and steel and concrete flying outwards in a deadly hail of shrapnel, insects, glass, acid, and all the other clutter that has been amassed here. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Tomoe's light ray sears into that cavernous maw, lined with a mix of human and over-sized vampire teeth, scalding the roof of his mouth and the back of his throat, melting flesh and causing Priscilla's sword to slip out of the Executor's throat. Now with a gaping hole in his neck to match all the other wounds, he can't even shriek anymore, instead just releasing whistling noises as he finally collapses onto his thoroughly demolished belly, too exhausted to continue. Unlike a Lantern, the Lit have many of the same vulnerabilities as the Living. They tire, and do not recover supernaturally quickly from exertion like a Lantern does. However, unlike both Lanterns and the Living, they are much harder to kill. That was, after all, the very reason why the Executor was put to work trying to find a way to bypass that resilience.     So that the threat of actual complete destruction could be used to inspire fear and motivation to obey, so that all would unify in purpose and seek to find a way to reincarnate together instead of wasting time in selfish pursuits.     And so now the Executor lies there, surrounded by torture equipment, quite a bit of it impaling him, missing body parts, covered in holes, the last of his blood drug hissing out of his wounds, seemingly accepting that he is no longer able to fight. He is like a hill. Like some great wounded beast. But still intelligent enough to craft all these devices and understand the relevance of concentrated Despair to the process of a Lantern's resurrection.     But despie all his injuries, he is unable to die a second time. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:''' Chopping Grounds (Darkness) - <Lumiere> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------     Amidst torture equipment and wreckage, there are many victims lying around, pinned to the walls with huge spikes, dangling in bizarre contraptions and cages. Red silhouettes, featureless aside from their relatively humanoid shape, wander among the victims, crouching over them and feeding on the bodies. They gather around the others, circling and stalking them, but keeping their distance. At the back of the room is a huge pair of double doors where the drug cannisters are in the non-Darkness-filtered world. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Contents Count Kord <Dripping Black Wounds> Finna <Blood-Spattered> Princess Luna <Cloak Of Skin> Priscilla <Gone, But There's A Little Girl Dripping Paint> Staren <Why Is He Covered In Eyes?> Tomoe <Worms Pouring Out Of Her Chest> 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:''' A White Room (Moonlight) - <Lumiere> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------     The torture chamber is gone, replaced by a large room with pale-white walls covered in crescent moon symbols carved into the marble, and various similar designs. In those instances where moonlight flashes, whether by arrow or blade, or personal power, the room is replaced with this, and bright light like a spotlight made of the ghost-radiance of moon cast down from above.     Standing in the middle if a small girl with a huge mass of hair hanging down from her head and a ragged night gown. If not for the fact that she is the only thing to look at, she could just as easily go unnoticed. She has no presence. Looking at her is like looking at a wall. There's no sense of 'person', of anything being there at all.     When the moonlight is gone, so is she, and so is the white room. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Contents Finna <Glowing Tattooes> Priscilla <Gone, But There's A Child's Footprints> Princess Luna <Radiant White Gown, With A Heart-Shaped Bloodstain> 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord does not come unscathed after his attack. He gets hit by a blast of debris in the middle of the Executor's wild flailing and thrashing. His wings beat as he flies and catches his footing. His vision blurs as the creature collapses, immobilized, unable to attack them any longer. He feels his body ache, he feels his skin burn, and he sees a world beyond the base spirit stuff everyone has grown to take for granted. He sees strange red beings, feasting on... he stares around as his eyes widen and wrinkles form under his mask, the disgust and horror much worse this time.     They're feeding on the pain, he thinks.     He scans the room, trying to ignore the hungry circling of predators as a hand goes up to his head, and a sickened noise emits from his mouth. He just saw he's covered in leaking, rotting wounds, as if his body is filled to bursting with a darkness beyond his mortal coil. He slowly composed himself, closing his eyes and then opening them again. Then he stepped through the room, ignoring the red apparitions purely out of spite, and finds his way to the canisters/door. His hand lifts up, and...     Kord tries to open the door he sees in the vision. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren hurries to dodge more waves, but even fired blindly, there's just so little room to run. He's sent tumbling, the impacts against his armored body making him cry out in pain now. At least the beast is soon finished. He stands with a pained groan and approaches the undying torturer. Trying to figure out... what the hell! A sometimes-living sometimes-not body with stone parts, what's even going on here? He's no doctor, but he has a basic idea of how bodies are supposed to work. What has /happened/ here? 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' With the Executor now going completely topsy-turvy reckless, Finna has little trouble circle-strafing around him staying right ahead of his wild swings and shockwaves. He has no chance of catching her if he can't detect her. She simply seems to blurr and afterimage-step far from his grasp whenever he turns vaguely in her direction before he can bring that guillotine to the ground...and calmly fire more arrows at his blind spots. So she just keeps this up and keeps it up in a perfect rhythm...     Until finally, the Executor goes down under all of their efforts...     And she is somehere else entirely, tattoos glowing brilliantly enough to illuminate through her fur. She stops everything she's doing and just looks at the new surroundings she's in. Blinking a few times. Peering at the girl. Glancing briefly left and right...     And then... it fades, and she's left staring at the 'corpse' of the Executor...     Which, all together, has her slumping both shoulders and leaning forward defeatedly. "... What. It's that girl again." 

:'''{{#var:993|Princess Luna (993)}} has posed:'''      The wild flailings are pretty easy to avoid, but Luna does have to deflect one more blast of the terrible energy. When things finally calm down, Luna stands carefully and takes a look around. She blinks in surprise when she sees the strange visions in the moonlight, and though she is still barely able to stand thanks to all the pain she notices that the visions only appeared when they used their powers. Luna fights to find her focus, and when she manages to get a bit of it she casts a spell. First she tries to break the curse that has been cast on them, but if that does not work she falls back on radiating a calming, mind-clearing aura. It probably won't get rid of the pain completely, but at least for everyone else it should lessen it by a large amount. And perhaps the radiating magic will bring the strange girl back into view.      Luna looks down at her blood-stained dress, then around at the others that she can see before the vision fades. She is left confused. "A-...art thou all seeing strange..." she pauses, then shakes her head. "...er..out of place things?" she asks as she tries to restore the vision with her radiating magic. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren blinks at Luna. "We're in a horrible torture chamber inhabited by a mysteriously giant druggie torturer who's part alive and part dead. I think this is pretty much out of place /anywhere/." 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla is no more keen on enduring repeated pain blasts than anyone else. She actually winds up sacrificing her reach and leverage for being a smaller target, in the end, just to avoid as many as possible. Moonlight blazes as a starry beacon of soft, shadowy light with its repeated, parrying impacts with the black, as Priscilla fends them off as best she can, until the Executor falls, collapses, and goes limp. With a certain hint of vindictiveness, she approaches to deal the finishing blow . . .     Only for the chamber to disappear entirely. Instead, she is left holding the glowing sword, and then raising it aloft like one would a torch in a dark tomb. Rather than stopping and staring, however, Priscilla resolves not to break her stride, and instead approaches the girl-that-is-not, asking only briefly to Finna: "Where was it that she had gone whence thou "rescued" her before?" with no small degree of mistrust. She isn't quite sure what she intends to do when she reaches the tiny, messy-haired girl, but the whole vision fades before she can do so much as reach out.     "So this is what ails thee, Count Kord." she says, a little too quietly to be heard. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' One of the drug tanks gets blown up due to Staren's actions, hopefully that will help, she is feeling pressed tough the horror of this place is getting to her, her skin starts to crawl and she does not want to stay here any longer than she has to. Her spell did hit it burns into the thing's head but not enough to fell it, something else happens, this is not what she was expecting to happen at all. She takes a step bacck she looks around confused for a moment and starts to back off she looks around for a moment. "I don't want to stay here a moment longer than we have to." 

:'''{{#var:993|Princess Luna (993)}} has posed:'''      Luna looks over at Staren with a rather large frown. "No...these things are quite -in- place here. They would be out of place anywhere else." She already doesn't care for Staren, but his snark and her pain do not help things at this moment. After her rather curt response, Luna shudders and lowers down onto a knee, the pain still getting to her. "Y-yes...let us leave as soon as possible." she stammers through the pain. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:''' Chopping Grounds (Darkness) - <Lumiere> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------     Amidst torture equipment and wreckage, there are many victims lying around, pinned to the walls with huge spikes, dangling in bizarre contraptions and cages. Red silhouettes, featureless aside from their relatively humanoid shape, wander among the victims, crouching over them and feeding on the bodies. They gather around the others, circling and stalking them, but keeping their distance. At the back of the room is a huge pair of double doors where the drug cannisters are in the non-Darkness-filtered world. The door is covered in black hand prints. There is the Greek letter 'Theta' at the top, and writing is scrawled along the edges. It can't quite be made out. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Contents A Locked Door <They Know You're Here Now> Count Kord <Dripping Black Wounds> Finna <Blood-Spattered> Princess Luna <Cloak Of Skin> Priscilla <Gone, But There's A Little Girl Dripping Paint> Red Figures <Hunters Hunting>Staren <Why Is He Covered In Eyes?> Tomoe <Worms Pouring Out Of Her Chest> Wounds <Stop The Bleeding. They Can Smell It.> inv You are carrying a white symbol. You have 1 frigid coin. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     As Kord pushes on the doors, they rattle loosely under his efforts. They do not open, however. They might be locked or barred from the other side. However, for his efforts, there is a low moan that carries for several seconds. It is then picked up by another voice, which is shortly joined by two more. Soon enough, the sound of zombie-like groans and cries builds and builds, until there is a crashing sound and the doors bulge 'inwards' towards Kord. The wooden barriers rattle and shake under the attempts by whatever is on the other side to get through.     There's a white mark at the top of the door. Was it always there?     It is the eighth letter of the Greek alphabet 'Theta'.     Black hand prints, as though dipped in ink, begin to appear on Kord's side of the door with loud impacts of their own, overlapping until the door is covered in them, like there is a mass of invisible creatures all around him making sure the door stays closed. Eventually, the door bleeds and melts into the wall and is gone, the discarded ooze being replaced with the destroyed drug tanks, and the wheezing mass of eviscerated meat that is all that is left of the Executor.     Soon, the Darkness vision fades as well, resolving back into the wrecked torture chamber. If there are invisible creatures here, stalking among them, other than Priscilla herself, there is no more evidence of them, whether red silhouettes are otherwise.     Kord may feel a small additional weight somewhere on his person, as well as something very cold. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Luna's magic lifts the debilitating effect from all of them. Though still injured, pained, and perhaps tired, a pin prick is no longer like burning glass wiggling back and forth in the wound with every twitch, spam, breath, or other similar movement.     The Executor is in no condition to fight anymore, but if they leave him here, will he eventually recover and resume his work? Come for revenge? Will allies heal him? And what of those bird-creatures outside? Do they just want to leave for now and let whatever happens happen?     The hunt is not yet completed until their prey is eliminated. Leaving is a good idea, especially before more enemies are drawn by the noise, but maybe finishing what they came for is a good idea too. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord holds his hand up for several seconds after the horrifying visions fade, the creatures beyond knowing he is there. He feels his heart pound as he realizes at any moment that these things could actually realize he can see them and try to attack him... and he swallows dryly through the pain of his injuries.     He turns to walk over to the Executor. He puts his boot on the injured creature. His hand reaches out and his weapon whips through the room, the scythe landing in his hand with a soft 'clink.'     Then he holsters the weapon and leers down at the creature, his strange red and black tail swaying behind him. The gore and horror around him brings him back to the mind-numbing fear of fighting for his life, alone, in the wilderness, as a young man. He feels a streak of helplessness. And the best way to cure that is research. He was told something by Enark, informed of the durability.     He just starts... jamming his claws into the beast, bracing his other hand on its body. He stabs his claws in over and over, each in a new spot, trying to find the correct way to kill this thing. So far, it matched what Kord knew about the Lit so far, except in its horrid mutations. It was some kind of addict of a horrible blood drug, but it was still a Lit.     And Kord wanted to know if it really was impossible for him to kill one of these beings, and he will be determined to keep going until someone stops him or he grows too frustrated to continue. 

:'''{{#var:993|Princess Luna (993)}} has posed:'''      Despite the fall of Executor, a name Luna finds appropriate on more than one level, there are still those other butchers and the captured...things...downstairs. After asking whoever is willing to assist her, Luna heads down. She isn't expecting the butchers to be too difficult compared to the Executor, but she keeps her scythe at the ready anyway. And though it is quite torturous to deal with these grotesque human abominations, Luna makes sure they are all disconnected and freed from their cage.      She also makes sure that any other captured creatures are released. Even though she suspects they might have to fight some of these creatures in the future. Or possibly as soon as they are released. The bird creatures seem especially feral to her, which is why she frees them from their bonds from outside their cage, then leaves the rubber bars. They are unlikely to stand up to assault from the bird things, but should hold long enough for the group to escape before being attacked by birds. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     For once, Priscilla has reason to be thankful for moon magic. Though she'd been doing a stand up job of grinning and bearing it, having the absurd amplification of her sense of pain lifted from her shoulders comes with no small amount of relief, visible in the straightening of her back and a long exhalation of tensely held breath.     It is not a kind look that she gives the burbling and bleeding Executor. It is the kind of look that has all the time in the world to stand back and watch Kord stab and maim and mutilate the hideous thing until he's either satisfied, or too exhausted to continue, taking a certain amount of particularly savage, Lordran-bred pleasure in seeing it. Only if the horrific beast of a man outlasts the Count's tender ministrations does she step forward to end it personally, hacking its head from its shoulders with a full, heavy swing of the Lifehunt Scythe, and cleaving into its soul, bleeding it of the spiritual essentia within and absorbing it for her own.     She'll have to remember to thank Luna later. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Blood-like drugs, putrified ichor that has replaced even the semblance of bodily fluids within the Dead, gas pockets that have formed from a combination of Luna's messing with the injection ports and simply trapped over the ages as spirit-stuff warped and altered, and occasionally organs that have become encased in something like bone, spray or leak or pour from the wounds Kord inflicts over and over to the injured and defeated creature. The Executor may have been expecting something like this, or some form of execution, but the general lack of response except grunts and wheezes as the ability to feel things is once again lost in the absence of the drugs, renders the hill-sized behemoth relatively inured to the further injuries being inflicted upon it, gruesome and thorough as they may be.     The price for the extensive use of the drugs, it appears, is to turn even the ability to feel things that the Lit normally possess recede into a numbness -- the price for temporarily regaining the vivid sensations of the Living, even for a short time, is to lose what they already have, making the return to being merely Dead more and more bleak and empty, until their body is as unfeeling as... A suit of armor. Unable to feel anything, unless they have taken this drug.     The same drug that becomes less and less effective the more they use it, requiring heavier and heavier doses. What might one do to keep getting their fix, rather than spend eternity in a sensationless haze worse even than one who has no sense of time anymore? What was the promise of something to alleviate the suffering of eternal residence in the Land of the Dead without respite, has become a curse upon those who partook.     While certain statements were made about the method of receiving the drug that may have been taken a certain way during the events on Halloween, the bite marks in the Executor's throat that even now, all this time later, continue to stand out redly from the leathery, ancient flesh everywhere else, indicates perhaps that if Priscilla had fulfilled the role she pretended at during the Crimson King's party, she might actually have been playing the part of a monster that very much belonged at such an event. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Luna frees a number of Lanterns that had been locked up behind bars. Though initially suspicious or at least cautious after their capture and treatment, being released is being released. There are not a large number, as most don't get kept around long enough to require imprisonment, but a good dozen or so. They salvage or retrieve any equipment they can find so that they are armed and protected to make it somewhere safer.     The bird things... Are a slightly different matter. Their backs are still broken. Even freed from their restraints, crashing to the floor with their great mass and smashing the needles and tanks of preserving stomach fluid that had been accumulated in the process and their ensuing useless struggles, they don't seem to be in any condition to make an escape. Given that they are incapable of comprehending concepts like 'gratitude' and would simply try to eat Luna if they were able to, disrupting this operation and destroying one of its leaders will have to suffice as a win when it comes to these things.     They are also Unlit of some kind. Near-mindless horrors that only care about consuming the fragments of the native Dead, like the twisted thing they just defeated was. Any concept like mercy is utterly lost upon them. But hopefully Luna is satisfied with her efforts. That is about all that can be asked for at this point. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The unfeeling hulk is gradually torn apart more and more until Kord might be in danger of falling inside the hollowed-out meat pile and having to avoid getting smothered and drowned in cold, addiction-destroyed innards and slow, sticky, black tar-like ooze. At that point, Priscilla finishes the job, though even then, much like the butchers, and the Stone Devils for that matter, Executor 13 is slow to 'die'. He finally stops 'breathing' and moving, and slowly streams huge quantities of ghostly mist from his body. Dead Lights emerge and are split between all present in significant quantities, the chill fragments of a once-soul infusing their bodies.     Priscilla obtains the husk that the Dead Lights came from, the soul of Executor 13 itself, or at least the vessel that it once was. It may be uniquely unsatisfying to receive, relative to other large boss-type souls.     But when the Executor is gone, his huge guillotine-club remains, as well as a key ring with a single, blood-encrusted key on it, and an assortment of other odds and ends that were not part of his body and thus are left behind.             You Obtained:             Placebo of Guilt (Weapon -> Priscilla)             Addict's Solution (Poison -> Count Kord)             Wheel of Torment (Shield -> Tomoe)             Bone-Encrusted Heart (Spell Focus -> Staren)             Curse Breaker's Flesh Cloak (Armor -> Princess Luna)             Giant's Half-Crescent Collar (Weapon -> Finna)             Blood-Encrusted Key (Key -> Group)             Memory Of A Madman (??? -> Group)     Hunt Complete! 
}}

5545/WANTED: Executor 13

2018-02-02T04:06:23Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/11/02 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=A monster that worked for the Crimson King must be put to rest, or so the bounty filed at City Limits says...."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/11/02
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=A monster that worked for the Crimson King must be put to rest, or so the bounty filed at City Limits says. Elites take up the task.
|Cast of Characters=974, 993, 6, 954, 42, 70, 513
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Recently, in the process of trying to find Crow, a living Shadow and companion of the explorers of Lumiere who went missing while trying to help Priscilla with her own business, Finna, the Blue Scholar Enark, and Priscilla came across an awful place in the bowels of Barrowville's sewer system, beneath the filth-strewn Gutter Disgorge, in a place that has been identified as the Chopping Grounds. This place's name was told to them not by another Lantern, but by one of the LIVING victims of the Hookcloak ambushers who had somehow been abducted and brought there, intended to be handed over to butchers and torturers in this new location.     With this following right after the events of Hallow's Eve, and the discovery of more living souls being drawn to Lumiere by unseen forces, there are a lot of problems to deal with added onto all of the existing problems, and some form of update is in order for those coming on this current mission... For a hunting order has been issued to Lanterns ('or whoever', the sole acknowledgement of non-Lantern hunters thus far from the Lantern habitation at City Limits), to take down a fiend called Executor 13, believed to have once been the one issued the command by the Crimson King in ages past to devise a method of permanently killing a soul through torture, violence, and whatever else this twisted figure could conceive of. In the land of the dead, even the monsters among humanity can find a purpose, it seems.     But Executor 13, whatever job he was given so long ago, has long outlived his purpose, and is now simply pushing forward the clockwork slaughter of the remaining Dead of Lumiere for unknown ends, potentially tied to the blood of an artificial Anti-Lantern weapon called a Marble Guardian, which the Elites already slew. With the recent discoveries of blood being used as a drug to return the sensation of life to the Dead in the distant past, the associations seem clear.     And the need to stop whatever this is remains just as clear.     The voices of the Darkness, the enormously powerful presence of death and shadows that calls to willing souls throughout the Multiverse, promising them the means to whatever ends they seek, power they can use as they please, for good or ill, as long as they use it, is drawing more and more people to Lumiere.     The arrival, for those new, by falling through a pit surrounded by a mount of bones in the Cavern of Death, falling an indeterminate distance through blackness until landing on an expanse of smooth, black marble, with only a morbid gateway as decoration (the Mask Maker and the fog bank from Halloween are gone now, just like last year), is something to get used to, certainly. But at least they will not be alone, and may receive an explanation from veterans of Lumiere explanation, as they set out to hunt down a monster. 

:'''{{#var:993|Princess Luna (993)}} has posed:'''      Princess Luna has been hearing a strange voice lately, and when she finally followed it she came upon this strange world. And learned some about what has happened here. A world of death and darkness, where the souls of a long destroyed world remain and are still tortured by the forces that once attacked the world above. But, the timeframe involved is impossibly long, even to her. She thought a millenium on the moon was a long time!      But, despite being drawn here by the voice, Luna's purpose is to help whatever good people she finds here. If any. She floats down gracefully from the entrance in the overworld and lands with a soft clack of hooves on the smooth marble of the gateway room before approaching it. As she does, she looks around for who else might be around. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Crow was missing and this troubled Tomoe, as much as anything going bad in this fallen world of the dead. Still why had he gone missing? What could have dragged Crow off? If Crow wasn't dragged off? Or did he find something that had pulled him away, the incident a few nights ago? That worried her a lot other souls lured in one way or another and now? She gets evne more and more troubled at this point. Here she is now again there was something to deal with this Executor 13 they had ot deal with. The weapon it was connected to is no longer an issue but they have to deal with what's ahead. She looks to PRincess Luna as she arrives she looks to her raising an eyebrow. "Didn't expect to see you here, you need to know anything?" 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord enters Lumiere as he has numerous times before. He is not bothered by the method with which everyone enters, and he lands with the unusual silence and grace that he typically has in the presence of other people. He pauses, and considers any newcomers to this little adventure, to explain who they are meant to hunt. He pays special attention to the appearance of Princess Luna, because she heavily reminds him of some special breed of Pokemon. It's only the intelligence in her eyes that convinces him otherwise.     Kord doesn't explain anything. He just decides to step through the door and begin his hunt, because he really doesn't care whether any of the others are prepared or not.     If you expected more from him, well... 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren floats down from above in his armor, landing to see familiar faces... and one face that's not unfamiliar, but is unexpected. "Luna? What brings you here?" Unlike Kord, he is all too happy to exposit and ensure that allies are informed, so he waits for her to answer Tomoe's question. He may not have gotten along with Luna in the past, but they were able to work together to try to recover Lapis, so... maybe she's over it. He hopes. It's just awkward having someone who Doesn't Like You around. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla is around! Normally you might not know it, on account of being invisible almost all the time in this treacherous hellhole, but it's just the gate, so she isn't!     She is also one of those who had vehemently shut the voices out on day one. Having felt the cloying allure of the Abyss once before, she had immediately decided 'No thank you, I would not like to gain Insight' and shut the book on that scary business right away. Having gotten so good at tuning it out, it's quite possible she hasn't even noticed the way the Darkness has risen in volume and urgency. Kord is kind of her hunting dog on that one.     Of course she's used to the gate now, which is why she gets to work on pushing it open again for the first available Shrine of Light. In the meantime, there are a couple of things to go over. Leyanne had been a surprise the other night, but now a pony? "I knoweth not what brings thee here, Princess, but steel thineself for far worse than what thou already expecteth. I knoweth not from whence these contracts spring, but they art inevitably gruesome affairs. As the lowest level of the land of the dead, furthest away from reincarnation, Lostrata is closest to the world in life, and thus subject to the same base maliciousness and rot. All of those thou shalt see art already dead, and most, amalgamations of the fragmented memories of many dead souls, rather than the original. Go not with hesitation or restraint, or this land shalt consume thee."     She does stop for just a moment, though. "If the Executor once knew the ancient king of this place, it is perhaps we alloweth a moment to extract information from him, circumstances permitting. We as of yet knoweth not enough of the disaster that befell Lostrata on the night of all hallow's eve." 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' The arrival of an Alicorn garbed in a gown of the night sky is a strange thing to the white-furred fox who's been prowling back and forth in agitated fashion for as long as anyone here has noticed. Frustrated over something related to the last incident, no doubt.     WHERE THE HELL DID THAT CREEPY GIRL WITH THE HAIR PROBLEM GO?!     Only the arrival of a being whose nature resonates rather strangely with the Lunar shakes her out of this stew. Finna blinks a few times...     And the arctic fox that had been pacing shifts and sprouts upwards, fur melting away to reveal human flesh and clothing - and whorling silvery tattoos all over the extra helping of visible skin. Finna's trimmed down to even LESS than usual for this place, which is far hotter than she's comfortable with!     "... Luna, you say...?" She blurts confusedly upon hearing Staren's words, peering more and more at the dark Alicorn. 

:'''{{#var:993|Princess Luna (993)}} has posed:'''      Princess Luna looks over as Tomoe speaks up, then nods. "Yes...I suspect I shall require a rather large amount of information about this world. It has a strange feel to it..." she says, looking at the gateway before them. Staren appears, and Luna lets out a small equine huff. "I heard a strange voice calling to me and followed it here."      Priscilla speaks up, and Luna's ears perk as she listens. She could tell even upon entering that this world was much darker than her beloved Equestria, perhaps darker than even the dark corners of her world that she visited every night. But, can one truly prepare oneself for a world like this one? Luna is also struck by Priscilla's manner of speech. Although Luna has moved away from it quite a bit, it is very nostalgic to hear someone speaking in such a way. Almost comforting in a way. "Do not worry thyself. I realize I hath had little experience in the darkness that other worlds contain, but I am quite used to encountering new types of darkness and dealing with them." she says.      She cannot quite place it, but Finna seems familiar somehow. Perhaps only through radio conversations, but that particular utterance of 'Luna you say' makes Luna's ears perk. "Ah. I believe we have encounter each other before, though perhaps not in person. I seem to recall conversations about my sharing the name of a world-shaping force on another world?"      Kord simply ignores everyone and goes through, and Luna raises an eyebrow. "Well...shall we proceed? I am quite sure I can be adequately informed by all of thee as we travel toward this Executor." she says, then starts toward the gate. Her ethereal mane and tail flow in an unseen breeze as she walks, and she holds up a hand to summon her mystical scythe in a flash of pale blue. She gives Nightsong a twirl before holding it in a manner that is reminescent of the grim reaper. "If this dark creature is performing the acts thou hast stated, then we should hunt it down as soon as possible." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The nearest Shrine of Light when they first came to Lumiere required them to run through Unlit-infested streets on Carna's heels, because someone decided missiles were a good thing to use in zombieland. Since then, they have found a better way to travel. The Grim Bone Gate itself can send them to any Shrine of Light they have visited before, and the one at the Church of Bleak Mercy seems to serve as good a nexus point for other locations as any, and a lot safer besides.     The nearest to their intended destination is actually in the area called Guillotine Square, but it will take some travel to make it from there to the Chopping Grounds. Along the way, Luna can take in the environment she is entering into. It is a lightless place, in general. A near-palpable gloom pervades everything, the only smells in this otherwise sterile realm are ash and dust, and only rarely are the dead fresh enough to even leave a trace of rot. In some locations, there is not the case, but they are the exception rather than the rule. Unfortunately, where they journey to now is one of those exceptions.     Their initial arrival point is in a reasonably well-lit, if only by an ambience pale and faded as the moon, subway station of considerable scope. The motif of the crescent moon can be found decorating the walls and pillars. Some sort of magical subway train provides swift transport to an exit point from the Umberdark Tunnels onto the Pristine Plagueway, an elaborate winding road through the air, supported by nothing. Far below is an endless expanse of dense fog, and far, far distant is the faint (but still brighter than the normal light level) glow of a single shining spire, like a needle of gold. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     There is no Sun anywhere. No stars. And no visible Moon, even if some have seen that there used to be one in Lumiere, a very long time ago. Whether it is still up there, on the plane above them, but damaged, or whether it is gone entirely, is yet unknown. The circuitous, lengthy walk that leads down, down, down towards close to the very bottom of Lumiere that is visible above the ocean of fog, eventually leads them to an archway set in the side of it. On the other side, volcanic rock tunnel, leading into the claustrophically enclosed ruins of some sort of city slum. Alleyways so small that only children or the most emaciated figures could fit through -- at least on the human end of things -- and alleys packed with garbage, that Priscilla and Finna discovered last time may be nests for some extremely unpleasant ambush predators, are just the introduction to this new area.     Dark passages, sewer grates dripping with black and green in the ground that alternates cement and cobblestones, and windows high above into buildings apparently without any doors, line them on both sides, in a confusing bakc-and-forth tangle of overlapping structures, stone bridges linking one side to the other above them, and the occasional gutter-pit across their path, the contents of which the less said the better.     Eventually they start to enter a broader street, with balconies and windows stretching on ahead of them on a buildings that just go up and up and up in a sort of dark-industrial design. An area ahead of them produces a brick-red illumination, loads of heat in this otherwise cold-as-death realm, and the pungent smell of burning and rotting meat, and the echos of screams of the torment, and the working of dire tools to produce such. Thankfully, there is no indication of living souls this time, and even the butchers that worked here before seem to have vacated the area for now. The forges lie unused. The troughs of blood and viscera are empty aside stains. The tables upon which people were chopped to pieces lie unused. Only the huge iron wheels with blackend bodies chained to them, set to roll back and forth over a sea of coals, remain to indicate what kind of beings were made victims here.     Somewhere in all this, there target awaits. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "We did!" Finna blurts out her realization. "... I don't remember much more than that. It's been... a few years? Some of which was in the Wyld." One day maybe someone will ask just what went on in this Wyld she supposedly ventured for a few years in, when it's hardly been that long.     For now though, she focuses on the trek across the cliffs, past the sewers and dodging around the yuck. She's back in her fox form by the time the group reaches the Chopping Grounds and those great torture wheels.     And as before, the Lunar spits her displeasure at the sights and smells rather loudly. Along with a few nauseous coughs.     "They left. Why? And where to? ... I don't have to track in these conditions do I?!" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "Luna may be a big god in Creation, but 'world-shaping force' applies to the moon itself, doesn't it? What with the tides and all... on planets where it's not raised and lowered by magic, over hundreds of millions of years it affects the planet's day length, too..." Staren comments.     And now, onto a magic subway station! Staren doesn't comment much on the location, aside from sighing as they make their way down all those steps.     As they get to the area with narrow passageways, he frowns. He sure hopes they don't end up having to chase anything down those.     And then they come to the... butcher's? He doesn't have much to say on the decor of here, either. Charred bodies, grisly business... just how things are in Lumiere. He does have one question brought to mind, though, by their target's supposed goal:     "If we kill this thing, is it going to just stay dead? Or will it come back unless we use its own tricks on it?" 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord is, well, as silent as he has always been when they get to the outskirts of the Chopping Grounds. As they travel, he weaves through the varied paths and alleys that lead them to their destination. He doesn't pause to check to see if anyone is following, and his strange spike-tipped, flat tail sways behind him, glimpsed beneath the flowing cape attached to his stealth-fitted armor. His steps are softened with his shadow manipulation entirely on reflect, meant to keep him from being heard, and his movements are swift and confident. His head turns in a mechanical way, eyes fixating on notable spots as he smells or sees something that catches his attention amidst the rest of the death realm.     When they reach the Grounds proper, he reaches under his cape and produces his own weapon. It's a scythe! The Hawk's Claw releases a spray of magical sparks as it unfolds into its usable form and the seams seem to meld together, the blade ready to reap the light from anything that dares attack him. He spares a glance to the others, and looks at Staren in particular, thinking on his words. "It is already dead," he tells Staren, "These beings are not immune to our strength."     He then crouches and leaps forward, and begins simply flying to cover ground, able to move with maneuverability you might not even expect from a hummingbird, swiftly covering ground in search of his prey.     As silent as an owl hunting at midnight, his dark profile hard to make out in the gloom until the glow of this area profiles him, as he requires no light source to navigate. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe Says "This could take a bit then and you shoudl be on your guard this world is a land of the dead and things have broken the world of the living it was tied to is ... gone as far as we know." She notes to Princess Luna but she's glad for any extra help really from anyone in dealing with it. She falls in making ready to take point if no one aruges it she also gives Finna a bit of a look for a moment before she turns her attention for there could be Unlit lurking somewhere nar by there is no real light no sun no moon, meaning she really can't fly here which troubles the Salamander more than it should given her origins. "Good question given everything here is already dead." She eyes the ores for a moment the signs though of the carnage is not lost on her. "Keep alert looks like we got a real sadist to deal with. Finna maybe we can find a clue somewhere to answer that question." 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla's opinion of Creation's gods is . . . low. Her opinion of moon gods is . . . also low. Her opinion of this particularly grotesquely filthy pit is . . . well her opinions of things today aren't very high. Even if it is rewarding to use the subway without it being full of screaming, perpetually burning corpses, and the Plagueways without the Wall, marking the steady progress they've made so far, Priscilla is probably not in a super good mood. Not after the other day.     "As long as I am here, I shall assure thee, Sir Staren, he shalt remaineth dead." says the soul-murdering specialist. Lumiere's Dead Lights have certainly proven compatible with her paradigm so far. "Regardless, thou see the corpses here that hath long been dead, but yet to dematerialize. Last we were present, we witnessed the butchers filling the native Lanterns with some sort of liquid solution, I believeth perhaps now devised by the Executor himself, to stabilize the bodies, in order to be hacked to pieces. Such may be a matter of interest, as it defies the known rules of Lumiere."     Priscilla isn't getting jumped by any more giant garbage trapdoor mantises this time. She chucks alluring skulls in front of basically every alley, and does her best to guide people through where Kord scouts ahead, especially following the empty portions. "These particular streets shouldst be safe for the time being, as I was able to slay near-everything within them, but the butchers keepeth at least one sort of slavering beast amongst their number I wouldst ill-wish to tarry with, thus be vigilant." 

:'''{{#var:993|Princess Luna (993)}} has posed:'''      Princess Luna blinks before smirking as Staren mentions the moon being a world-shaping force. "Yes...I suppose thou art correct." she says. And she laughs a bit at Finna's sudden exclamation. "Yes, it has been quite a while. I hope thy years in the Wyld were not too stressing."      Then they ride the subway to the station nearest to their goal. The whole scene is...well, to say it is beyond anything Princess Luna has ever seen would be an understatement. Even at the darkest of times in Equestria death and decay were not known any more than their usual nearly forgotten presence. Even their most dangerous foe, one who threatened to take all the magic of their world and reduce the Equestrians to mere slaves, did not kill anyone. It is not as though Luna has never seen death, but never in such an overwhelming amount. And the stench of not only death but actual burning flesh...Princess Luna has to stop several times and steel herself after nearly tossing her cookies.      It is especially bad when they reach that warmer area. At least the cold dampened the scent somewhat, but in the heat it becomes overwhelming. "Nnng...b-by the moon..." Luna grimaces. Finally she can't take it and forms one of her protective fields. It filters out the noxious and gut-wrenching smells and she can finally take a few deep breaths and get herself more under control. She is still obviously unsettled, but she pushes on despite all of it. She listens to the warnings and information as best she can, and anyone who stays near her would also be able to breathe easy. Luna keeps her own scythe ready, but her attention is hardly focused. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The large pits in this large area offer forth both red light and heat, but split metal shields of some kind have been mostly-closed over them, leaving the area darker but also not quite as sweat-inducing. Even so, the light produced is enough to cast the twisted, black-steel, industrial-looking buildings around the area in a menacing hue. They stretch upwards towards a crack of darkness above, and the slight glimpse of the base of the Tower of Escher that they are so far below. Dragon blood drips down in rivulets along the walls, but it is a meager quantity compared to the constant waterfall-action down the sides of Escher, or the crane-drawn swimming-pool-sized buckets used to haul up molten Despair-blood from the depths below.     Kord's vantage point may show that the area is not as free of activity as might be imagined. There are numerous other paths branching off from this are like jagged scars. With no 'ceiling' to speak of, there is nothing stopping him from just flying along any of these paths to look around. The only obstacle is those tall buildings and structures, acting as walls, and turning this place into an artificial canyon of sorts. Some tall, bag-hood wearing men, each ten feet or taller, are gathered around a rack of huge cleavers and knives, seemingly discussing something. In another area is a single one of these figues guarding a tunnel with prison bars over it. Upon a closer look, there are several such barred passages, some empty, others with prisoners within. One of them seems to be producing animalistic noises that may sound vaguely familiar, especially with Kord already thinking about the creatures that produced them.     From the perspective of those closer to the ground, there's a series of black-steel cockroaches or something like them that stream out of one of the passages, passing by a good distance ahead of them. They pay no attention to the intruders unless they draw it with their actions. But the behavior seems very patrol-like. They then disappear down a different passage all the way across the area. So even when this place is abandoned, something is keeping an eye on it. They wouldn't need watch-roaches if they were planning an ambush, so that is good at least. But it also means they might be accosted at any time.     Somewhere ahead of them, further down the path with the guarded prisons that Kord may spot from above, there is what might be termed a 'large' soul. Something voluminous and potent. It is a 'dead' soul, like a Lit, though... Altered. There's a sort of hunger to it. A thirst that can not be denied.     It might remind Priscilla of what was felt from the Crimson King, though this is not only more distant but barely a candle next to that bottomless appetite. A supernatural leech contrasted against a pit made of hunger enough to drain the world dry.     Kord may get similar vibes, though vaguer. Whatever this is, it is not 'wrong'. It belongs here in Lumiere. It is just... Changed.     Traces of magic can be found on many of the tools here, but it is a sad echo of what magic once was. Barely enough to blink at, and unlikely to be useful in the hands of one who has not spent considerable time learning the intricacies of butchering the living dead. Conviction is a strong focus for this sort of mild enchantment. Without almost single-minded devotion, or a consuming fanaticism, the ability to pry unliving flesh from bone without splitting the shattered soul is essentially useless. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna sniffs a few of the tools, but just makes more faces. Impressively well, for a fox who can't make human expressions... one would think. Disgust is pretty evident, and she steps more and more lightly past the racks of tools and onwards. She's in her summer coat of grey-black instead of the thick, puffy white coat that would be baking alive in her own fur here...     "...Disgusting disgusting disgusting place. Whole lot of them should be put to death. Final true death! Forced to reincarnate. Hammered into Soulsteel, I don't care. Disgusting monsters, the butchers!"     She sends a sad look Luna's way.... for Finna has no way of blocking the horrible smells, and kind of needs her senses. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Active lookouts are actually a bit of a good sign for Priscilla. As long as she doesn't outright step on them, the fact that they're needed at all means she can wander about invisibly in /relative/ safety, and thus she does. Splitting off from the group, she leaves her position via her radio marker for Staren (probably being the only guy who has the gear to keep track of it), and begins homing in on the unmistakable essence of a powerful concentration of spiritual energy. Even here, the substance of the dead travels up the food chain, and congeals in the apex predator, like both toxins and calories in the wild.     Wherever Priscilla catches a particular butcher out of place, she will dispose of it, not taking any chances this time and simply hooking the Lifehunt Scythe around their necks and guillotining them (appropriate, giving the adjoining location). When a path seems relatively clear for others to follow without running into opposition, she guides them toward her over the radio, and then, before they arrive, decides to take a look ahead, by sneakily peeking into the room/corridor/pit she can practically smell that huge, twisted soul coming from. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord flits through the air, taking note of details. Walls are only a temporary impediment, as he has full command of the air and can dip around anything that might block his passage over the various paths. He zeroes in on the sense of something ... 'stronger,' but it is only noticed by the vaguest of imprints against the distorted aura of Wrong in the rest of Lumiere. He pays no mind to anything that does not actively attack him, leaving only the faintest tingling at the back of the necks of anything he passes by... and only several seconds past the point where he'd be easy to spot. He skillfully weaves around and above the line of sight of anything in the area as he approaches what he assumes is the target they are in search for.     "It isn't the King himself," he murmurs amidst the ambient noises around him, "But it's a good first step..." It seems he wishes to slay the Crimson King of Fear, hence his apparent single-minded focus on hunting this target heedless of the progress of the others. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' The Pits catch her notice and Tomoe's going to try to keep from ending up down them. She looks at the ruins of the place, it's massive and a powerful reminder of what once was. The Blood? That leaves her unsettled even more but she keeps moving. The roaches get notice but they don't attack. Tomoe will try to deek past them without setting them off. in her mind she does not want to deal with trash right now. She can't hide herself like Priscilla can but she's going to make for the more stealthy approach than she was prone to. "What could these things be protecting..." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Patrolling cockroaches. How... unique.     Others spot butchers and go ahead to neutralize them. Staren is not so great at stealth, and especially not at stealthily killing people, so he's inclined to let Priscilla, Kord, and Finna handle that while he serves as... party automapper and support for when a real fight starts. Once the people by the tools are assassinated, he comments, "Hmm, they're magically enchanted." but it doesn't seem super-notable.     "Isn't that what we're doing? Killing them to nothingness." 

:'''{{#var:993|Princess Luna (993)}} has posed:'''      Princess Luna is basically just following the others at this point. She could be quite stealthy if she wished, but she is still trying to adjust to this world. Giant bugs is not entirely new, but Luna does still blink in surprise when they appear. She was under the impression that everything down here was humanoid in at least rudimentary fashion. As it seems the creatures are patrolling a ground-bound path, Luna spreads her wings and takes to the air, floating along just above the buildings.      Luna returns Finna's look, apologizing with a sad smile of understanding, then continues down the path that Priscilla has opened for them. That is, until she sees the prisoner tunnels and the butchers gathered around their tools. Luna frowns, then her horn glows softly and she cloaks herself in illusion. In a shimmer, she looks like one of the butchers. She makes sure to advise the others what she is doing before she changes her appearance, though. She wouldn't want to get scythed by her allies. Their goal may be this Crimson King, but Luna wants to see if there are prisoners they can set free. And perhaps deal with these other butchers. One tunnel in particular draws her attention, and she approaches slowly before peering inside. She stifles a gasp, then mmphs softly. Such cruelty!      She reaches to touch the bars, and using her transformative magic attempts to remake the bars, turning them to flexible rubber which she then attempts to pass through to see what is inside. And perhaps free the poor creatures. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Luna pauses at the sound of the bird-things and makes her way inside. The bars bend for her, creating an opening. What she finds inside are... Not really birds at all. Certainly, they have wings. Large black wings, and bird-like legs of a sort. But the wings have flayed and blackened flesh in place of feathers, and the legs are likewise bare and twisted, with large, sharp talons at the tips. The legs and wings alike have clearly been broken, likely intentionally. But what's worse is the rest of them. Their torsos are like those of a large, emaciated human, just as blackened by fire or death-power as the rest of them. Their heads, on long, bird-like necks, are also humanoid. Aside from their sharp teeths, and too-wide mouths, they are skulls with flesh-turned to charcoal across them. In place of eyes, their skin has repeatedly been peeled away and burnt, creating feathery 'fans' of skin flaps, like the flares of a cordyceps fungus.     They have been forced into an arch by large wheels behind them. Restrained by chains and cuffs rammed through their bodies. The wheels have clearly broken their backs, snapped their spines, assuming these corpse-bird-things follow any form of physiological sense. But there are also pumps and syringes plugged into their torsos, all pointed into what is probably what passes for a stomach, and these pumps in turn lead to an array of fluid reservoirs where a foul, goopy, semi-transparent liquid accumulates even now. The thing used to keep Lanterns from dying properly when they are killed, to prevent their reincarnation.     As they sense they are not alone, the monstrous things, each about twenty feet tall, orient on the presence of warmth and life and utter their strangled, bestial squawk-screeches.     One mystery solved, at least, though Luna might not understand the importance of what she is seeing. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     As Priscilla takes down the two or three guards along the route, they quickly make it to an enclosed chamber without the capacity for just flying over it like most of this area. Thankfully, the doors open readily, but they do so with a loud screeching of rusted metal. Inside, is a large but crowded room, mostly dark, with a wide array of torture equipment. At a glance, it seems like everything that humans ever invented on Earth, and more than a few 'original designs' invented post-death. Unlike the things outside, many of these have a relatively high degree of magic attached to them, but they are all singularly focused in theme. Pain and suffering.     One of them, a terrible contraption that looks like merely a wall with restraints on it, has an opening in the back for an enormous injection device of some kind attached to a pump. The minimal lighting in here comes primarily from a tank full of molten blood. There is a Lantern strapped to the device.     Those more familiar may recall that one of the pre-conditions for a Lantern to come back from death is the desire to do so, the hope that they can still continue to make progress and reach their goal.     It may all become clear now, to what end the blood of the Chains of the Dusk Sun is being used. To forge weapons for the purpose of permanently slaying Lanterns. And to devise tortures to break them so that they surrender to a final death rather than try to come back. tWith the essence of Despair, the Executor intends to do what the Marble Guardian itself could not, and stop Lanterns from pursuing their desire to ascend Lumiere and find a way to the World of Ashes above. Even if he must force that choice of abandonment upon them against their will.     From the shadows, a lever is pulled, and the injector slams into the flayed Lantern's back, ramming and releasing the burning fluid into the dead one's restrained body. The thrashing is short, but violent, before the Lantern dissolves into Dead Lights that go dark rather than misting about.     Then something quite large stands up from the deep shadows and approaches. He towers. It's hard to say how tall he is in this lighting, except for those with the senses for it. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:''' ]     The senses say he is very tall. Forty feet at least, and almost half that in width. Skin blackened by smoke, soot, and the cold blood of the dead, unlike the other butchers, this one wears no bag on his head. He doesn't need it. There is almost no head there at all. It terminates right above his bat-like nose, which in turn lies above his large mouth bearing a mix of human and animal teeth -- in particular a pair of saber-like vampire fangs. The monstrous man is a Lit, but from all the nozzles and plugs in his skin, he takes in additional substances. Blood, for example. And from the bite on his throat, weeping red ooze even after all this time, those substances are probably easy to guess.     Vampires didn't used to exist on the Earth that Lumiere once allowed the Dead to return to. Not real ones. But the Crimson King, long ago, in his effort to remind the Dead what fear was, created monsters.     Executor 13 releases a series of echolocating bursts of sound that, at his size, are like the reports of gunfire in an enclosed space.     Then he lifts a huge guillotine with a handle attached, and stomps forwards to greet the intruders.                 EXECUTOR 13         Last Anti-Soul Researcher for the Crimson King 

:'''{{#var:993|Princess Luna (993)}} has posed:'''      Nothing of what Luna sees makes any sense to her. Not to mention how purely grotesque it is! The others might hear a short shriek before the burst into the boss chamber, but it is cut off quickly as Luna quickly holds her hands over her short muzzle. She has to remind herself that this is the world of the dead, because no living creature could be altered and burned in such a way and still be alive. At least, no creature she has met. And who would even do such a thing? Or...are these creatures natural somehow?      Luna has to back away after that, and turns away quickly so she doesn't toss her cookies. But, she doesn't exit right away, either. The butchers would think it odd if one of their own was sickened at the sight of these creatures, no doubt. Of course, the shriek and her entering without opening the tunnel might have already have called some attention to her. She slips out as calmly as she can and heads quickly toward the others, even as she radios just what she saw in a bit of a panicked tone. And hopefully if there are other prisoners they will be a little more pleasant! 
}}

5541/The Bloody Throne

2018-02-02T04:05:07Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/10/31 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=Another Halloween passes uneventfully in Lumiere. |Cast of Characters=974, 6, 1100, 954, 70 |pretty=yes }} {..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/10/31
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=Another Halloween passes uneventfully in Lumiere.
|Cast of Characters=974, 6, 1100, 954, 70
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Letters have invitation have gone out to various people throughout the Multiverse, inviting them to attend a special party in Lumiere. Masks will provided so that the Living can join the festivities in the land of the dead. However, the warning has been included that if the masks are not returned before midnight, the living shall become the identity they have assumed permanently, and thus dead themselves.     Arrival in Lumiere is through a sheer drop through a pit in the Cavern of Life and Death (on the death side of things). A huge mound of bones, with a magically long fall through utter blackness, until eventually floating down to land upon a vast expanse of black marble. Ordinarily, the only features are a huge stone gate covered in designs of skeletons arranged such that it appears they are either trying to hold the gate shut or pull it open.     However, on this night there are two additional features. There is a covered-wagon of sorts that has been coverted into a mask stand. There, a hook-beak-masked figure in concealing hood and robes sits behind the counter, surrounded by masks of all description.     The second feature is the immense fog bank that rolls through, sending wisps along the marble ground like the fingers of ghosts. It is a wall of vapor that leaves only a comparatively thin strip of the arrival point for Lumiere free and visible. One could wander in that fog forever. Thankfully, there are guide points. Dimly visible in the fog are what look like old-fashioned street lanterns, or at least judging the placement of the hovering, indistinct light from here. Visibility is sharply limited, so not very many of these light sources can be seen for now, but following them should reveal more details.     It appears that there are a number of unfamiliar faces here. In addition to the hook-nosed Blue Scholar, Enark, who has come in a costume of his own (last year he was Karnak the Magnificent. Now he seems to be the Phantom of the Opera). In addition to him, however, is a small crowd of living people. Many of them look as though they really don't belong here, and it's hard to say how they even made it through the dangers of the Cavern of Death in the first place. Others are clearly experienced explorers or combatants. Some wear costumes. Others do not. While most seem nervous, or outright terrified, one, a man in hiking gear, seems to just be weary. Another man and wife are holding hands tightly, their expressions somewhere between hope and desperation.     There are what looks like military personnel, as well as a man in a business suit who engages every new arrival in frenzied, fast-paced, manic conversation.     Did they all get letters too? 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' This is not the first time that it has happened to Tomoe, nay it's far from the first time. She was almost expecting the letter. She took it out of the mail box, she'd looked it over an readies herself for another run to this yearly party. Now She recalled the rules from the year before. So she'd had her things in order she knew about the rules from last year and kept them well in mind. She makes for the Wagon and she looks to the masked figure for a moment. The fog bank is not something she recalls from the last time, she does however. She will fall in to get her own mask she notes the other people and looks concerned very concerned that people who seem to not be the sort of crowd she runs with are here. Given how dangerous this world can be to the living, are they living or are they from this world just another period of time she has no experience with? That is something she does not know. Tomoe bite a bullet here as she moves towards the group of soldiers. "Did all of you get letters for this too?" 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne Mace (1100)}} has posed:''' Leyanne Mace arrives shortly after Tomoe, pausing to look up the 'bottomless' pit for a moment. She smirks to herself and holds a brief air guitar pose, before walking to the wagon. She picks up her mask and starts to walk into the fog, her tail swishing around happily behind her. She resists the urge for a moment as she's looking at her mask. "We all wear masks, metaphorically speaking..." the mouse mutters, before putting her mask on and adjusting the straps or string around her ears. Then she wanders towards Tomoe and the others. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord breathes a sigh as he approaches this event, having passed through the area before this... and looked behind himself with a grimace behind his helmet. When he came upon the man handing out masks, he let out a sigh of impatience and assent to him, and reached up to remove his helmet. The helmet is placed on the stand, and a mask is retrieved, likely because he got one handed to him. After fitting the mask to his face, he let out another sigh and looked around at the others, his inhuman eyes aglow behind his mask.     "... what are these fools doing here," he remarks tiredly, upon noticing all the others who really seem random and out of place.     He pointedly avoids the manic-looking fellow in the business suit, ignoring his words and walking away from him when he tries to initiate. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     This again.     On some strange level, Priscilla actually can't believe it's been over an entire year with Lumiere hovering around in the background. Despite the uniquely nightmarish scenarios it always presents, which seem to stretch out forever while one is experiencing them, collectively they feel as if they should be far less, like a jumbled rush of bad dreams experienced in the arbitrary subjective time of a single night. On one hand, it's a little depressing to think about. On the other, it at least makes for /one/ situation, for once, that she's already familiar with the rules of.     Priscilla's ability to pick masks is still utterly garbage. The best she can manage is 'pick something female' and 'pick something that looks relatively like her own visual age and vaguely like her social class' just so she doesn't have to pretend to be a poor cobbler's boy or some swarthy blacksmith or something. Last time had already been awkward enough, pretending to have a fiance and all.     The presence of other people is a complication. One that is /almost/ brand new, though she, Finna, and Enark had advance warning of this new snag the other day, though Priscilla still has the barest clue as to why they would have gotten invitations. "Lady Tomoe. If thou hast any mind for these men and women, convince them to go further not. This place is not one for idle curiosity. Those that can adequately bear arms, and otherwise hath some other mission here, shouldst be made to fall in with us, not left to wander about on their own."     Technically, Priscilla isn't actually Tomoe's boss at all. They have a working history, though, and Tomoe is always the one concerned about collateral in lives. Priscilla would maybe warn them away and protect them in a hypothetical scenario where they are not severely pressed for time, however, midnight does not wait. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The soldiers, upon being approached, look warily at Tomoe. Exchanging looks, one of them replies with, "Maybe. What about you?" Doesn't seem they're very willing to divulge information. Though they look like they belong in the U.S. marines, or maybe a mercenary outfit that uses surplus uniforms from such, their equipment is a mix of high-tech firearms and an assortment of mildly magical talismans and charms. Though without the ability to sense magic, they mostly just look like incongruous ornamentation and baubles.     When Priscilla speaks around the others, many of whom add compound their discomfiture about being in the land of the dead by gawking at the Elites, those same soldiers just glower, and a toussle-haired one says, "We have a mission, yeah. You could say that."     The man in the pair of young couple defensively puts an arm around his companion, while the woman shakes her head wildly at the suggestion they leave, or at least don't proceed. "We have to. This is our last chance. We've tried everything else. If we give up here, we... We--" her voice is starting to break as verges on hysterical, but her partner hushes her and makes soothing noises, before turning challenging eyes on Priscilla, though tinged with fear. "We appreciate your concern, but we also have a reason for accepting the invitation."     Enark seems perplexed by all the new faces himself, but living people showing up in Lumiere has been going on for over a year now. He wasn't here for the first arrivals in April of last year, but he heard about them. He shrugs it all off. Anyone who made it past all the animated dead in the Cavern of Death has to be an Elite of some kind, right? Or at least able to take care of themselves? ...Unless the invitation somehow protected them, allowing utterly inappropriate people to come here. Though given their encounter with other living folk at the Chopping Grounds...     Well, it's not like he has any claim to this place. He can't deny people access if they received letters. "Ah, while you may have reasons to be here... I do agree with her majesty. Lumiere is a very dangerous place. I recommend that you exercise caution, and stay with the group."     The suited man latches onto Enark with an arm around his shoulder. "Right, right, yes, of course, good man, sharp mind, sharper nose, haha, quite the beak you've got there, but I digress! Lots of laughs, lots of excitement, lots and lots and lots! We're not going anywhere, so don't you worry, nor you, nor you, nor you over there all eager to set out! Let's stick to the group, gotta' use team work, synergy, group dynamics, to overcome the obstacle of the thing, in the place, that we are all hurtling towards, now, now, now!"     Enark just stammers out, "A-ah... Y-yes." as he tries to free himself.     The hiker keeps his silence, and just drinks from a canteen as he eyes the mask stand, and then reads over his invitation letter again. He then moves to retrieve a mask, and a short time later, those hesitating to do so follow suit. Once masks are picked out by everyone, and they have had an opportunity to make any greetings or socializing they wish to (or don't wish to), the Mask Maker speaks to those assembled.     "Welcome, adventurers, old and new     The dead of Lumiere welcome you too.     Illusion of the past, you venture to.     But don't think that 'matters not what you do.     To the dragon queen, a third throne waits.     The shadow lord, the one whom he hates.     Star-traveller, a home, and eternal rest.     Queen's knight, iron flower, true heart's test.     Hunter of knowledge, beware, you shall be hunted in turn.     But do not fear too much. Observe; try to learn." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     tWith its rhyme done, the androgynous figure points towards the hovering light ball in the fog with a crooked, skeletal finger. "Stick to the path, to finish your tasks.     Return before midnight, your borrowed masks.     If you don't become who you are, before midnight arrives,     Join the dead, you will, in exchange for your lives."     A number of the living here seem off-put by all this. Several try to laugh it off, like this is all just one big joke to try to scare them off. They seem to think this is just a seasonal production of some kind, and dismiss all warnings. The ones who don't laugh are the ones with the most intensity, the ones serious about being here for whatever reason, even if they might not know what they're in for.     A small handfull seem to think better of all this, and decide to stay behind, taking the warnings to heart.     But no matter the reasons or behavior, those bearing both invitation and mask are able to walk into the fog. It recaches out to them almost, like something hungry. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Following the path for all is a simple matter for those bearing both mask and invitation or simply invitation and qualifications to approach. It is virtually impossible to get lost or stray from the course they must take. But when they eventually exit the deep fog, with its echoes of voices and noise of celebration, and appear on a winding road lined with walls of lit jack-o-lanterns on either side, and huge crowds venturing forth to currently-open iron-wrought gates vaster than canyon walls, and see the enormous Palace of the Crimson King ahead of them, the volume of the celebration may hit almost like a physical force. The fog passed along only echoes, a filtered version of what was waiting for them.     And what is waiting for them is enormous indeed. A palace that makes a major metropolis look paltry by comparison, more lively than any place on a living world would have any right to be, and yet populated entirely by the Dead... And the internally-glowing Lit for that matter, the native Dead of Lumiere, in incedible numbers... Fireworks are detonating in the sky almost continuously, creating dazzling displays of spiders, pumpkins, skulls, what may be mystic runes of symbols associated with various groups or individuals unlikely to be recognized, and all manner of other things erupt into huge fiery explosions. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Crowds mill about, party, dance, eat, sing and perform, have mock battles, do more... Intimate things, despite the many people around them... They fill the huge front yard and the palace ground all arounds, seemingly wholly like living people, in appearance and mannerism. The only difference is the total absence of biological life signs, and the material that composes them. The gigantic moon is still hanging there in the sky, a light source unseen in the Lumiere of the present. A full moon, seemingly so close as to be in danger of colliding with the world they all stand within. The road winds down, and down, and down behind them now, the foggy place they entered still there, but off to the side somewhere, with the path that comes up from somewhere below branching out into many other paths and roads that lead to well-lit towns and villages that canvas an expansive shoreline, with many, many sea-going vessels at rest.     But compared to the enormous Palace, they are trifling things. And the invitation was to a party at the Palace of the Crimson King. So it seems clear where they are to go next.     Some here have already been through this. Enark himself among them. But there are certain changes visited upon even the veterans of last year's celebration. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     For Tomoe, she will bear the same form as she did before. Though whereas before she was merely identified as Dragon Knight Adair, this time she actually wears her form. Her attire has changed during the passage through the fog, becoming a mix of heavy armor and some sort of iron mesh. There is a definite dragon theme to it. As Tomoe learned last time within the illusion, Dragon Knights revere dragons, and try to emulate them. They do not hunt them, except in the sense of trying to find survivors among the largely extinct species.     The armor does not weigh too much upon her, even without her strength. It is a more complete illusion than last time, but still mostly an illusion. Though that it has progressed in complexity is perhaps something of interest.     Leyanne, being new to this party, does not seem to have the 'full package' that Tomoe does, but it is still notably more advanced than the mask she wears. She appears to be in something like a nun's attire, except belonging to the order of Urizen, a local religion of Lumiere. All in white, with a hood concealing all of her head except for her mouth, chin, and throat. Gold chains link the bottom of the mask to a collar, creating the appearance of her mouth being 'caged'. While there are no openings in the opaque veil that hides her face, she can see through it just fine, because what she is actually wearing is a mask that DOES have eye holes in it. The disguise, while visible to Leyanne, has no weight or substance. It's like she's wearing the very fog she passed through. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Kord, similarly, has a costume without solidity to it. He appears to be wearing not what one might imagine for him, something vampiric, but rather, black silk wrapped all about. A combination of robe and cloak, with steel cables coiled tight about his head in place of hair, and a steel mask with bolts, narrow eye slits, and a fixed, smiling mouth. It is cinched at the waist, providing a narrowness of figure, and from the overall body shape... It appears...     Count Kord will spend tonight as a woman.     Priscilla's wardrobe change is probably no less off-putting for the one wearing it. A leather dress of red and black, with a rigid, flaring skirt, puffy pink half-sleeves, fingerless spider-web-pattern gloves, a white frill and black bow about her neck, and a red bat in her hair, with the addition of small black bat wings on her back. Spider-web tights and red leather boots complete her costume. Unfortunately, like Tomoe's it is more solid and 'real' than last year, where she only wore an identity. Though it weighs less and is less tight than the real thing would be, it is still physically there.     The other living people who joined them get a similat treatment, the soldiers looking like skull-face-painted hunters from some ancient culture, the couple looking like a zombie bride and groom, the manic man now garbed in a red bespoke suit with devil horns on his head, and the hiker now appearing to be a werewolf or something. They, plus the ones who thought this was all an elaborate prank of some kind, are staggered by the sound and spectacle surrounding them.     Enark just keeps looking like the Phantom of the Opera, because he's already dead.     "Well," Enark says. "Let's enjoy ourselves, I suppose?" 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord frowned and held the mask in his hand while the Mask Maker spoke in rhyme at them. His wrinkled nose and his thin frown showed a certain level of disgust, the wrinkles in his apparently young face more obvious with this sour look he was giving the strange entity. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, and carefully placed the mask on his face, and walked forward to the designated place.     He couldn't help but marvel at their surroundings, on the way to the palace and when he reaches the party himself. He pauses to take in what all that there is to offer, and then... himself. Within the chaos going around him, people might not hear the low, inhuman growl that pours from his mouth at the sight of the illusion that has been placed on him. His hands ball into fists, and he feels his teeth grind. And then... he just laughs to himself, and turns to wander off into the crowd, seeking all that which looks different and interesting.     No use being mad. It's a party, and he can see the humor in it once the shock faded. 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne Mace (1100)}} has posed:''' Leyanne Mace blinks a little, looking around at the others. She spends a while marevelling at the mask, listening to the warnings. Underneath it all, her fur fluffs out slightly in surprise at the costume, nodding a little. "Okay." She says quietly. "Sticking with the groul sounds like a plan." She nods, deciding to stay near Priscilla and Tomoe. Back before Tiny pulled a Jack Osbourne and went off to discover herself, she remembers... not exactly getting on with Pris, but being somewhat on the same team. Inwardly, hidden behind the mask, Tiny is starting to wonder if this really was a good idea. When the invitation arrived, she tried to ignore it, but... her curiosity got the better of her... 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe looks to Leyanne for a moment and tilts her head a bit at her, she's yet to put her own mask on at this point as she's looking to the people. This is a hell of a complication this year, a very b big one. She had thought and Priscilla has just arrived, it was goo to see here and not unexpected that she would be here given her history with this world. She nodded at Priscilla's words. "Right I'll see what I can do there." Priscilla is not her boss no but they have such a long history of working together she's come to trust Priscilla's judgment and she could focus on trying to lessen collateral, she's going to try and talk people into going back that she can and those who she can't get them to come with them. She also knows how pressed for timne too she also knows about the tuime limit she also didn't expect Count Kord's costume but she doesn't think twice on it. "Look if you got a job to be here, I will not stop you but suggest you come with us, the party I am with surived this last year and you have to be out by midnight no ifs and or buts and if you do not I beg you go back to the warp gate ane go home this place is dangerous, very dangerous." She looks really worried now at this but people have free will the right to chose she won't hestate to drag any of these people out if she can when it's time to go. Last year she was only seen as the Dragon Knight, she finds her armor shifting changing it seems to have a good heft to it she adjusts her mask a bit ahas has not forgotton the stuff she learned last time. Cord's Costume is not expected but she doesn't comment on it and she looks to Priscilla and then to Enark She iwll try to get the people to come with them nd she's gong to fall in somewhat with them as the party move on. She doesn't even think about how her costume is more solid this year, is she getting a stronger connection with this world? For the moment is lost on her. She looks to Priscillia's costume and simpley gives her a nod. BEfore she looks to Leyanne. "Yes, when it gets close to midnight we have to clear out. Or we never will be able to leave." She pauses to look at her own, costume again, it's so much better than what Cardinal has saddled her with back home. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Seeing a little pride and cagey stubbornness from soldiers is not exactly anything new to Priscilla. Practically everyone with a habit of wearing a helmet she had ever known has been like that (Kord included). Hearing whom she had presumed to basically be tourists, speak with such desperation, however, inserts an additional piece into a fledgeling jigsaw puzzle she already doesn't like. That kind of tone just screams 'dead child' on all the levels that make her mentally frown. Of course the living wouldn't just end up in Lumiere after all this time by accident. It had to be taking advantage of them.     "Very well. I hath no particular right to dissuade thee from any approach but sheer practicality. I imagine mine own aims here art less noble than many. Simply knoweth that thou art less prepared than thou shouldst be, no matter how well thou believeth thou art." The poem. Of all goddamn things, more thrones.     At least, Priscilla assumed that taking on even more political responsibility would be the worst thing of tonight. There is even, very briefly, a point at which she thinks it might not be so bad, when she really just can't help but crack a smile at seeing what form poor Kord is forced into. Tomoe barely has to change at all, and Leyanne did like costumes, but the indignity foisted on the stoic champion of Yveltal elicits a poorly disguised cough-laugh from Priscilla at the exact moment it gets a growl from Kord.     Then Priscilla takes a look at what she's wearing.     Oh.     Oh.     This is one of those very few reminders of what Priscilla is still, at her core, actually like. As the First of the Concord, there is a certain amount of professionalism expected from her in the field these days, and as the Arch Lord of Lordran, a certain level of pride and 'shit-she-doesn't-tolerate-anymore', so it that tends to get in the way, but this is one of those times where even neo-Priscilla just has to Deal With It like every other poor bastard Elite on the ground.     Specifically, even a casual glance at the crossbreed confirms that she looks as if she's about to combust. There is a peculiar mix of tension, embarrassment, and mortified resignation about her that is difficult to put into words, but instantly understood in the redness of her face, the stiffness of her posture, and the agitated cat twitching of her tail. There is an attempt to push down and flatten her skirt, but it really doesn't work that way. Who wears gloves with no fingers?! What's the point?!     "L-let us primarily be on the lookout for further information pertaining to the present." Priscilla says to Enark, with a slightly but unmistakable stutter. Wow, it's been a while since that last happened. "The . . . time last . . . i-involved factual precedent of obscure events that didst help us greatly in the location of the Marble Guardian, amongst other things." After a few seconds, she finally takes a real deep breath, and then does her best to march confidently through the castle grounds, looking a little comically serious in doing so. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Having to yell over the voices of others to be heard means that mingling is something of a challenge outside. Whether they remain outside or head up the huge flight of steps to the doors leading within the Palace, and all its many additional stairs, hallways, and so on, there is, in addition to the celebratory atmosphere, a faint aura of unease. There is a faint coppery smell in the air, identifiable to those with adequate senses as blood, in large volumes. But it's the land of the dead during a Halloween celebration, is it not? Maybe that, and the spooky feeling in the air, are just part of the experience.     Some conversation is gleaned, however, amidst all the partying. Some of it with the Elites in particular, some of it between the other Lit -- the native dead of Lumiere, rather than the hollowed our monsters that have replaced them after gobbling up the Lit and becoming a patchwork of various souls.     "Did you hear? The King has some big announcement."     "Let's hope it's not like last year's. There was some kind of rant against others, followed by an assassination attempt."     "No need to worry about that. With the borders of Lostrata locked down so tightly, there's nothing slipping in this time."     "Are you kidding? They still haven't been able to do anything about all those Shadows!"     "Well, as long as we're out here, we aren't going to get caught up in anything, right?"     -----     "Have you noticed all the Purifiers around?"     "Yeah, what's up with that?"     "I didn't think that the King had the kind of influence to get angels to guard his party..."     "Oh, come on. You know that they go where they want and do what they want. No one commands them."     "Except Urizen, you mean."     "Well, he's not around anymore. None of them are. That's why we have the Lords of Silence."     "I wonder how the replacement for the Lord of Fire is doing in his training. I don't know how long it's been since I heard about him... Sol was it?"     ----- 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     "Another year, another party..."     "Has it really been a year?"     "Who knows? It's not like there's any way to tell time here. I'm just so tired of being here. I want it to end. I want to ascend to the next plane."     "Don't talk like that, man. You know the link has been broken. There's no way to go back. What's moving on going to change?"     "It will change ME at least. That's what I hear happens. When you let go of the person you used to be, you lose the baggage of life. It's like... Transforming or something?"     "Listen to yourself. It hasn't been that long, probably. Come on, I heard of a place where you can find a bunch of clocks. Maybe we can borrow one and then we'll have a better idea of--"     FORBIDDEN ACTION.     "AAAAAH!"     "Wh-wha--"     DO NOT VIOLATE PROTOCOL. ONLY WARNING. VIOLATION WILL RESULT IN PURIFICATION.     "We're sorry! We'll never do it again!"     "C-C'mon! You can't talk to those things! They're like machines! Let's get out of here!" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Between the various conversations ongoing, some trivial, some of great importance for how casually they are discussed, the interaction between two Lit and a huge figure in sleek, angelic-looking armor, and a featureless, blank face plate, is a bit more notable than most. What can only be a Purifier simply descended upon the pair the moment they started even TALKING about violating the rule of Lumiere that the Dead not be permitted any mechanism to tell time by. It hovers still for long moments, just standing on the air as though such were solid beneath needle-point feet, as Lit scatter every which way to not be the next ones to catch its attention.     With the party mood somewhat stifled outside, frivolous conversation becomes harder to find or listen in on discretely, though thankfully it also results in a general decreae in the volume of the surroundings, at least temporarily. Going inside the Palace might be the next best course of action.     Along the way they are addressed specifically. "Ah! Lady of Styx! We're so glad that you could join the celebration! We are blessed by your presence. Will you offer us the sacrament of Water?" Leyanne is accosted by a small crowd of Lit who seem to perceive her as a priestess of sorts. Though the title they address her by is different from the one they know the attire to belong to. Lady of Styx? Not 'Peacemaker'?     People bow before Kord and step back out of his way, when they see 'her'. Unlike with Leyanne, few verbal greetings are offered. More akin to deference. There are occasional muttered, 'milady's thrown around, but no one seems intent on engaging whomever it is they think Kord to be.     Tomoe receives a mix of warm greetings and suspicious (or perhaps worried?) looks. Last year, they had been relatively pleased to see her. Dragon Knights were apparently reputable and honorable warriors of some kind. But the situation and reception appear to have changed.     In addition to being addressed as 'Blood Mother' by those Priscilla is greeted by, she also gets hit on repeatedly, by men, women, a large furry white house cat that attempts to groom her tail, and at one point by a spindle-legged mechanical spider-torch thing that brings her a night-blooming flower. Enark tries to play bodyguard by shooing them away, and gets dirty looks, insults, and at one point gets candied apples thrown at his head for his efforts. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     While Tomoe's and Priscilla's warnings are mostly heard, especially by the ones determined to be here, the others are so overwhelmed by everything that they've already begun to wander off into the crowd. Fools can't be helped if they're unwilling to accept the aid. Hopefully they'll at least make it out of here before midnight. A thunderous ringing that can be both heard and felt begins to chime from somewhere in the area, sending resonating waves through everyone and everything. From the clamour in the wake of the bell's silence, it seems the Crimson King's announcement is going to begin soon.     The werewolf hiker, the zombie couple, the tribal soldiers, and the devil-suit man, are somewhat lost amidst all this, due to unfamiliarity, so they are sticking close to the group. But they also seem to realize that whatever they seek is ahead of them, within the Palace itself.     For one of those present, Kord, something unusual may be seen if he looks up at the staggeringly high palace. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:''' Echoed Palace (Outside) - <Lumiere> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------     The Palace of the Crimson King is dyed a deep red, turning everything blood-hued. Thick blobs of black and red seem to run down the walls and drip down from the sky without source. The blood splatters on everyone and everything around, without being reacted to by the milling crowd. It looks as though a swirling vortex of blood lies directly over the palace's highest point. Already large enough to be an entire sea unto itself, it looks like it is gradually expanding.     The walls of the palace, the decorations, the ground, are all stained and splashed with liquid red. This vision flickers unsubstantially between the 'normal' version of the palace. It seems as though phantoms, red silhouettes without features, wander amongst the Dead, as unseen as the blood. Somewhere high within the Palace, a red light that is almost liquid itself, shines through a broad, open window.     The sound of the bell came from the same location.     The Darkness tells Kord that the answers he seeks are here. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Contents Bartrum <Werewolf> Count Kord <Shadow-Seeker Belara> David Aus <Business Devil> Enark <Phantom> Leyanne Mace <Witch Mara> Tomoe <Dragon Knight Adair Priscilla <Blood Mother Vivian> Rosa and Louis <Zombie Couple> Skull Squadron <Death Hunters> 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Oh Lords why. Why hast thou forsaken us. Whatever a 'Blood Mother' is supposed to be, apparently she is an absurdly popular figure, and within minutes, Priscilla is practically having to fend them off with a stick, and poor Einar is a rather short one. The worst she reacts is to the white cat, who reminds her of a certain other garbage cat, and also gets inappropriate with the tail. The best she takes to any of them is, oddly, the torch thing, because the flower is genuinely kind of thoughtful. Priscilla decides to keep that one. Is this the fame of her assumed personality, or the power of a change of wardrobe???     A little exhausted and exasperated already, she is unsurprised by the appearance of the purifier. "I see now the full extent of what thou had meant, Sir Enark." she remarks upon the way the Lit scatter like frightened bugs before it. "Though perhaps their function was wise back whence the wheel of reincarnation turned, they art clearly rigid and obsolete things whence the dead awaiting new life became trapped here eternally. That is not to say that I see the point in checking time, however. Now it couldst only serve the purpose of woefully reminding one of how long ago they had departed the world above." She does take a second to briefly explain to Leyanne, being a rare new arrival to this place, that clocks and calendars are forbidden in Lumiere, since tracking time keeps people attached to their old lives, and hinders them from moving on to new ones.     "Hast it truly been one year in this past incarnation of Lumiere, however? Art we appearing one year past the celebration last, or hath it perhaps been a time longer? Much hath seemingly changed, as much as it ever stays the same here. There is a very different climate." Priscilla doesn't trust it too well, but knows that going about visibly heavily armed will clash badly with whatever charming and desirable identity she has assumed, and at least expects it would afford her some protection from the usual kind of conspirators or unruly crowd members. Putting on a brave face, she does her best to play nice with those that come forward to interact with her, and tries to prompt a little bit of contextual information out of each one, fishing a little bit for current events, mentions of the Shadows (knowing that the last Halloween was recently after their appearance), the state of the King of Lostrata, and other such trivial, but topical and easily researched things.     If Leyanne needs the help, she'll inform her that the Styx is every bit the river of forgetfulness the usual legends attribute it, and has an associated religious order of bringing peace, closure, and healing to people. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Once more the Dragon Knight ha returned to this world and she is polite on to Priscilla she doe snot comment she does not laugh she simply nodes to her in reply. "Shall we get going?"% Though under her mask their is a sympathetic look as Priscilla has got saddled with situation much like she's dealing with she'll do her best to not make it worse for her. With he party moving on ahead she falls back into her role and keep with the group also keeping an eye on the other outsiders she also listens to what they pass the conversations are noted some trouble her but her welcome does make her seem confused for a second something's clearly has happened. She returns polite greeting but has to wonder what has happened it concerns her as they find out more of the tale of this world's past she also grimaces they lost some of the people here hopefully some of them will make it out she's given them her warning she has to focus on the party she can save. Damn it she does not like where this could be going but what is there for her to do? She recalls how things went last time she was here it seems the political affairs have continued to go on it seems. She also will keep track of the time and do what she can if a chance presents herself to guide people back to the exist before time is up. Dragon Knight Adair is on her best behaviour she also thinks about how clocks and the keeping of time are forbidden here, it troubles her but this is not her world. She also seems to be escorting to the Blood Mother to any of the other guests and she must wonder why are the other people here? She is here to learn more of this world's past that she might help fix it one day. She will interact with other party going and try to catch up on thing for she had been long on the hunt for dragons to protect after all and had been away from the populated places of the world...maybe she can gleam some more information out of the beings or is it memories here? 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne Mace (1100)}} has posed:''' Leyanne Mace decides to walk around and stay quiet near Priscilla and the Tomoe, following rule one of the idiot's survival guide: Stay near smart people. She doesn't say much, figuring staying silent is the best way to remain in-character for a nun until she's actually adressed. Still, in the back of her mind, she wonders how many eight-foot nuns there were back when everybody was alive even as she gazes over the architecture in wonder, filing and saving all this away for later. Her hood moves as antennae and ears listen to the various conversation, the mouse-nun moving closer to Tomoe and Priscilla. "Do you smell that?" She mutters, the Cockney twang to her voice making it clear who it is. If her height, and the tail poking out from under the robes, weren't enough. "Blood. And there's bad juju in the air." a pause as she listens to the warning about clocks. "I have... a fairly accurate cl-, er... thingy... regulating my heartbeat, that won't cause problems right?" She stays quiet to listen to Priscilla's explaination about the Styx, nodding quietly and filing the information away. After a moment's pause. "That makes a lot of sense here in a place of the dead, that the Styx is... so important." When she's asked to perform a blessing to Lit, Leyanne looks briefly lost, before making a vaguely religions hand-gesture with her left hand. "May you find your peace." She says, hoping it works. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord can get used to this treatment. At least he takes some amusement out of being called a lady, because it's both untrue and coming from people long since destroyed. He tolerates their deference for whatever figure he is, and just to play up his character, a hand goes out and rather brazenly pushes aside one of the party goers as he goes about checking out what there is to see. He does not speak a word to them -- if they act like peons, they get treated as such. He has no interest in finding what tidbits of information these cockroaches can provide, these things that are mere echoes of what was.     But there's something else to this. Something he hadn't quite... /seen/. When the bell rings, and the darkness whispers to him, he looks up and there's...     Blood. Everywhere. Coating everyone. He hesitates in such a way that he manages to startle someone, and when he spots the figures milling about unnoticed, even by his companions, he pauses as if ready to point them out to them.     He thinks better of it. The vision was uncomfortable to look at.     He lifts up into the air, abruptly taking flight to head up, up, up toward the window. He bowls over one of the party goers with the gust of wind from his takeoff. He's heading for that light, to see through the window and know. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark pulls on the collar of his cloak at the sight of the Purifier, clearly almost as terrified of it as the other Lit, despite this being an illusion of sorts. He dodged such things every time he tried to collect clocks for his forbidden collection. Unfortunately, even as he nods and makes nervous noises of agreement with Priscilla, the soldiers don't respond as well as everyone else to the Purifier's appearance.     They raise their weapons and take aim on the Law Golem. However the 'angel' seems to pay them no mind, either because their costumes make everyone around them accept them as what they appear to be, or because it doesn't consider them a threat. Given the description of their capabilities given by Enark in the past, it could very well be either or both.     After awhile of being ignored, the men appear to decide they aren't going to be attacked and lower their firearms. They then begin heading for the palace itself. The bell is calling them there, and the clock is ticking (figuratively). They have to be out of here before midnight.     Priscilla's information-fishing results in hearing that just as the Crimson King promised last time, the borders of Lostrata have been sealed off, the others among the Five Kings, and their agents such as the legendary heroine Constance Lorethal, have been banished from the First Candle, and apparently there has been a military build-up and continued work on some kind of transportation system that will carry people directly to some kind of magic city at the top of Lumiere, where they can get to work fixing the Link between the Living World and Lumiere. Why they need soldiers for that is unknown, as is the basic nature of the transportation system.     But more and more people have been hearing strange whispers, and that combined with the living shadow-creatures that have begun to infest everything are causing concern. That is why the celebration was being looked forward to, so that people could relieve some stress.     The status of the Crimson King is less encouraging. Apparently rumors coming out of the court have been that he has been by himself a lot in his throne room, arguing with unseen or imaginary beings, ordering away all courtiers, nobles, and guards, and spending long periods of time wandering the palace halls muttering to himself. These are merely rumors, but the idea that their King may have succumbed to the ridiculous lengths of time that the Dead of Lumiere have existed, beyond the scope of what a human mind is meant to contain, and be falling into madness, is not a very consoling one. Though the fact he is still holding this party as normal, whether it's a year later or a hundred years later, might be a sign it is all but rumors after all. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The werewolf hiker scowls at his costume. "Poor taste." is all he mutters, the first words he has said so far, and moves after the soldiers. The devil man approaches one of the Lit and says, "Hey, the name's David, David Aus, you can call me David, what can I call you? I think I'll call you Bob, can I call you Bob, I'll call you Bob, so listen Bob, what exactly is a 'Blood Mother', I'm new 'round here, fresh off the boat, so to speak!"     The poor unfortunate soul barraged by David stammers a bit and then says, "They provide Lifeblood to us. The creation of the Court Wizard of the Crimson King, Prospero. He has gifted it to the Blood Maidens, to share with us, and give us the feeling of life once more. Or that's what I heard. I haven't tried it myself. I haven't had the nerve to ask, because of the... Uhh... Method of--"     "Say no more, say no more, save the salacious details, lest you burn off my ears!" David then turns, grinning to Priscilla, and calls out, "Hear that, Blood Mother? Bob here is interest in a dose of your fluids, the red kind, not whatver your mind is thinking of! So maybe you could co-mingle while I go on ahead! I'll seek more info, more intel, more MORE, and if I hear anything good, I'll be sure to share, for a reasonable recompense!" He winks and practically dances off in his devil-wears-prada shoes towards the palace, like most of the others.     So Priscilla's role is apparently a combination of drug pusher and... Err... Harlot. Splendid.     Though that someone is manufacturing a drug to make the Dead temporarily feel as though they're alive again has many implications. At least some of the relevant to the 'present' of Lumiere. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The Lit appear to be satisfied with Leyanne's blessing, bowing and making a ritual gesture to her while thanking her, and then backing away to give her room. The smell of blood in the air is definitely heavy. While it permeates everything, making it hard to identify a source, there definitely seems to be a large volume of it somewhere in the area. A source for it, whatever that might be. They don't appear to care that Leyanne's size is probably not appropriate for the person she is masquerading as. Magic masks are great.     The zombie couple remain close by to the others, unlike the other living folks who have wandered off into the Palace, or the fools who are even now losing themselves in the party atmosphere. To be fair, having a Halloween party with actual real (kind of) dead people is a pretty awesome idea (just maybe not in this case).     "Rosa..." the man says as he sees his partner's fearful gaze wandering around.     She closes her eyes briefly and then forces a smile. "I'm okay, Louis. We've finally made it. It's just like we heard. She has to be around here somewhere. We'll just ask this king of theirs to help us find her."     Louis breathes in, coughing a little bit on the coppery odor in the air, grimacing, and then just nodding his head. He squeezes Rosa's hand, and she squeezes back. Then they turn to the most human-looking one present, Enark, and ask, "The King of this place is in the Palace, right?"     Enark nods hesitantly. Then he looks to Priscilla. Then Leyanne. Then Ko--No, wait, Kord has flown the coop. He looks to Tomoe next. "Lady Tomoe, please ensure these two make it safely to this meeting of theirs. We'll be along shortly, I believe."     Whenever Priscilla finishes her questioning and she and Leyanne stop getting propositioned (Priscilla, for ghost-drugs, Leyanne, for blessings she makes up on the spot), eventually, the whole crew is headed inside. It is a labyrinthine trip to their destination, but there are helpful guides to show them the way. At one point, while passing through one of the ball rooms with the capacity for millions of guests at once, they get to hear the names of the identities they have assumed. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Blood Mother Vivian for Priscilla, Witch of Styx Mara for Leyanne, Dragon Knight Adair for Tomoe (not news to her, but still good to confirm), and Enark of the Blue Scholars for Enark. 'The Wolf of The Bone Woods' is how Bartrum the hiker is introduced, 'Envoy of Los' is how David the devil-man is named, Rosa and Louis are just called by their actual names though they apparently belong to something called the Cemetery Council, and the soldiers are 'Dread Hunters'.     Kord pushing one Lit aside results in the individual just collapsing to the ground and curling into a ball, as though expecting to be savagely beaten. Thankfully, the 'lady' chooses not to pursue such a course of action when 'she' notices something off, and just flies up higher and higher and higher. The length of multiple large cities stacked on top of each other, until 'she' reaches the grand spire near the top of the Palace, with its broad, open balcony, through which the liquid crimson light shines. The black bell lies just above it, held in the mouth of a giant skull.     Kord arrives first due to his more direct approach, and witnesses the assembling of nobles, courtiers, commoners, and people of all kinds. Up on the balconies, clustered around the edges of the long throne room, waiting for whatever their king is going to announce.     There are some things rarely seen in Lumiere as well, right where Kord arrives.     Children.     They look up in surprise as the great, black, silken figure flaps over the balcony's railing. A couple of darker-skinned children bearing clear signs of injury, and dozens of others in varying condition. One of them seems... Oddly familiar. And all of them seem to be wearing armor. The oldest among them can not be older than 14, but they are all armed and armored as though they intend to fight. The equipment is piecemeal, but not shoddy in quality, and they seem to bear an emblem upon their sleeves. A crest of sorts.     Of a Gargoyle.     They look startled, and uncertain by Kord's arrival, but the familiar girl and a boy next to her step forward. From the hostile little eyes the girl shows him, it almost seems as though he is going to be challenged or attacked, but she and the boy both bow their heads in acknowledgement and respect. "Shadow-Seeker Belara. It is good to see you. Lord Prospero was looking for you. I'm Resaran of the Gargoyle Knights. This is my second-in-command, Lasyra. We'll let the Grand Wizard know you are here." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Gargoyle Knights. Resaran. Lasyra. They and these others... These are the Stone Devils before they became the Stone Devils. Dead children, turned into soldiers. Or perhaps they died soldiers, and that was all they knew how to become when they arrived in Lumiere. It is a dizzying realization. But not as much of one as the figure that glides up from around the corner, robed, with cabled-like bindings around his head not unlike Kord's disguise. And a devilish stone mask with two sets of sharp fangs, and a pair of horns protruding from the top.     "No need.," a horribly familiar voice says. Like a giant stone wheel grinding over a field of human bones forever. "I am already aware. Thank you, Resaran. You and your Knights are, as always, efficient and dedicated servants." Then he turns those empty holes in his flat-faced demon mask on 'Balara'. "Well, then. Shall we attend the announcement now?"     Eventually, everyone is in the same place, regardless of how much travel is involved, and the clamour of people waiting for the King to appear continues to grow. So too, does the feeling of an alien presence. An intense fear outside of themselves, that nonetheless seeks to worm its way inside and make their own inner fears stronger. It is like the feeling when they faced the Marble Guardian of Despair. Like the feeling of Melancholy in the Temple of the Drowned. It is an 'Aspect' of some kind.     What are they about to witness? 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Why this. Why her. Why is Priscilla so bad at choosing masks. This is even worse than the last time. Why. It's not even that Priscilla doesn't understand why such a thing would exist. Traditions of the Undead had similar (though less indecent) cultural roles of providing comfort and absolution to those estranged from the living. It's not even something she can particularly scorn or begrudge. But still. Why her. Come on.     "Be certain that thou stray not far, Sir David. Alloweth not thine urge for conversation to distract thee from the clock's hour hand." Priscilla finally sighs out. She doesn't really have the pace for these types, but the guy is obviously pretty useful at what he does. "Sadly, he shalt be made to wait for a more suitable time. There is the matter of the king's summons, after all." Putting off responsibilities for a later that never comes had worked fine last time, especially when claiming she had something important to do. Surely 'Vivian' couldn't have originally come here to do /that/ with whoever asked, considering there must be literally billions here.     Plus, she sincerely doubts her blood has magically gained any such properties. The crossbreed's circulation is an almost-but-not-quite vestigial function, and her blood is only about as potent as that which half comes from a race of unliving stone beings can be. She doubts it'd even be satisfying to a vampire.     During her breaks, she does her best to facilitate Leyanne's comprehension of events as best as possible, and bring her up to speed. A 'Candle' is a level of Lumiere, of which Lostrata, ruled over by the Crimson King, is the bottom, and the layers apparently correspond to enlightenment and progress towards reincarnation. This is a period closer to the point at which some mass-extinction had destroyed the living world and broken the path back to it, via said reincarnation, leaving the dead stranded. The transportation system is something they're currently looking for in the present, believing it to have been completed.     Still, gathering at the hall, Priscilla can't help but slip out her wicked dagger, clutched invisibly in tense knuckles behind her back. The last she remembers this feeling is . . . 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord reacts first with the cold ire of his hands slowly bundling into fists, his eyes widening behind his mask at the sight of the children. Resaran... he recognizes these children, as he has met most of them before. They're beings that ring in his memory very sharply, and bring back the distinct and vibrant memories of his clash with Luc and his growing ire toward the being since the original shattering of what little stability he could build in Lumiere. The Count's head buzzed with anger, and it took almost everything he had to restrain his urge to growl loud enough to hear.     And then Prospero arrived, and he was snapped out of it, as if in a daze.     "Yes," Kord replies, his voice likely hidden by the mask, "Let's."     He clasps his hands in front of himself, and steps alongside Prospero, or the being he suspects is Luc. He walks with a silent grace, as he has practiced doing so. He makes sure to stand just a step behind Prospero and just distant enough to be able to see his movements, head to toe, if he were to do something unusual. Kord, from his understanding of Belara, probably isn't breaking character doing this. She seemed like the type to constantly believe others to be ready to kill her, but in this specific case Kord cannot take the chance this is not /current/ Luc.     Because he has no promises that 'Prospero' is not just Luc wearing Prospero's mask, or if Luc was Prospero the whole time. The distinction is not strong enough to warrant comfort or complacancy. 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne Mace (1100)}} has posed:''' Leyanne Mace seems to have perfected that nun's glide. As she follows Priscilla, Tomoe and whoever else is with them, her legs don't appear to move; it's a little like the nun from Blues Brothers as she hoovers along, arms tucked into their sleeves to enhance the image. She looks around at everything, recording every little detail. She listens attentively to Priscilla's crash course on Lumiere - it seems as well as thrills, the mouse's vices include curiosity. As a freedom fighter she is dutifully horrified at the fate of their living world, her tail lashing behind her. When Priscilla's arm moves behind her back to grab the dagger Leyanne's eyes narrow. From under her robe, there's a faint, affirmative status bleep. As they reach the throne room for the announcement, Leyanne's hood shifts, as if her antennae are moving under it. "Getting a major case of the heebie jeebies." she mutters. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' The talk of Blood raining down on them leaves her looking very concerned she sees Enark is terrifed of the Purifier and she can guess why she also has no idea if somehow these memories realize she's one of the living and how they would take to that? She'll hope she can fish up some useful information here. She keeps an eye at the Werewolf Hiker and the couple as he brings up the name DAvid she tilts her head a bit. She catcvhes wind of what David has picked up adn she can only wonder and then it hits her about Ahem the role Priscilla has been stuck with. Okay she's got it worse than her situation back home. She also wonders how they are getting the means to make the dead. She does't say much she's not as welcome as she was last time and she wonders about the dragons a hell of a lot. Could they be imporant to what's going on in the present She looks at the pait for a moment and nods to Enark. "I shall guard them Enark." 5R She'll move to join the couple and looks to them. "I shall escort you and protect you. I make no promises about what you two will find in this place..." She'll fall in and also is mentally mapping the way out for when the time comes to /flee/ before midnight. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Prospero leads the way towards the throne, apparently expecting to stand alongside of it. The throne is currently unoccupied, but with the building tension in the air, that might not last for much longer. The Gargoyle Knights follow along behind in an orderly procession, though there are sneers from some among those gathered, or barely-masked laughter of derision. Whispers about the 'playground patrol' and Prospero's 'toy soldiers' are not-quite-said-quietly, while others mutter displeasure that children are allowed to bear arms and armor in the court, or distaste that Prospero and Belara should employ such. Even more loathesome whispering imply very perverse reasons for why children were selected, but while Lasyra boils with anger, she keeps her peace, fixes her eyes on Resaran's back, and then straightens her own, fighting off fury with pride.     Her stance is clear. 'Let them talk. They are jealous that we hold such prestige. But as long as I can follow Resaran, I don't care about anything else. So let them talk.' The other kids follow her example. Resaran, for his part, appears to be utterly impervious to the jibes and whispers, giving them not the faintest sign of interest. He leads the double-row of child soldiers, remaining several steps behind 'Belara' so that if she were to stop suddenly, he and the others could all stop in time. But they also remain close enough to act if something were to happen.     Depending on where the others are arranged after entering the Crimson Court, they may either be a great distance from Kord and his retinue, or relatively close by. But either way, the platform the throne is on opens up, irising into a circular pit. From the center of the platform, the Crimson King arises on a pedestal. He has changed from the last time he was seen.     The man they saw before was a withered, gaunt, filth-mouthed, paranoid, egomaniac, barely just this side of madness. For someone described as a 'vampire king' who was a powerful and terrible foe of the Lit of Lumiere, engaging in the torture of the dead to try to discover how far he could push a soul before it broke, he was something of a disappointment. Just a conniving, cowardly, spoiled figure.     This is not that man. Not anymore.     The thing that rises from below is a tall. Powerfully-built. Armor half-fused to skinned, raw muscles, dripping with red. Armor both demonic and vampiric, serving more to emphasize the twisted form that has been assumed, rather than to provide protection. Even the helmet is like a bat's. It actually semi-resembles Prospero's mask. Or the face of the Shadow they know as Crwo, but taken to an insanely aggressive extreme, and then frozen in black steel.     Shadows chitter and chirp to each other on the walls and high up on the vaulted ceiling. They wind around the pillars, poking their two-dimensional heads this way and that curiously, apparently unfazed by the growing anxiety that fills the throne room like an invisible but physical cloud of pressure. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     This is the Vampire King spoken of. Whatever happened to the man who was called the Crimson King, he has been transformed. And he is he source of that alien presene of outer fear. He gazes across all of those assembled, as nobles and others assembled bow or kneel. Once he is satisfied with the respons, he gestures for everyone to rise, and then seats himself in his skull-throne. When he speaks, it is not the whiny voice from last Halloween. It is rich, powerful, vibrant, resonating with all the things vampire's are known for. Hunger, power, age, sensuality, and a predatory intent unmatched by anything found in nature (at least on most Earths).     "Welcome to my palace. As you may have heard, I have an announcement to make. One of great importance. But first, I wish to speak on other matters. The gods have been a dwindling influence upon us for quite some time. Though their blessings, their protection, have been useful at times, with a fixed number of human souls to draw strength from, they have been losing power." There is some vague muttering around the throne room as people are uncomfortable with this criticism of the gods.     The Crimson King holds up a hand, and everyone silences their mutterings (at least among those who are supposed to be here in this echo of the past).     "After consulting with my Grand Wizard, I have determined the real reason why they have abandoned us. It is not simply due to lack of souls in their personal realms, or lack of worship. No, the reason is much simpler. Via the device we have constructed below this Palace, we have uncovered the truth: The gods are dead."     This produces a considerable clamor that takes some time to die down.     Bartrum the werewolf, David, and Rose and Louis are all assembled near the rest of the Elites. They are still taking in everything, even more lost than Leyanne on many of the specifics due to not having a convenient explanation on hand. Thankfully, Tomoe is there acting as a shield to protect the civilians among them. The soldiers, who seem to be talking amongst themselves, maybe planning something, are off by themselves. They seem to be aware, at least, of all the black-and-crimson royal guards, so hopefully they won't cause problems.     David is all smiles, but has carefully positioned himself to have many people and at least one huge pillar between himself and the guys with guns. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     "Dead gods can not protect anyone. But they still have a use. That is why we have created a passage to Barad Ghul, through a device I call the Never Tombs. Prospero has theorized that Lumiere's reanimation mechanism is what is responsible for the souls of the dead gaining form and psyche after our living selves are but dust. It is an automatic process, of enormous power. Shadow-Seeker Belara has summoned creatures from Barad Ghul to broaden the path from here to there. And now, with the Never Tombs, we are finally ready to access that distant city that Sol has squatted upon for so long in Ashron. Sarcaphogi for dead gods, using Lumiere's very nature to reanimate their decaying forms endlessly in the dark, but blocking it from ever succeeding, will create power we can use to force open a portal." The Crimson King looks upon everyone once more, realizing that a lot of these details may be lost upon the paupers and pretentious fools that play politics in his court. But the ones who earned their way here by their own merit, the intelligence and cunning they possessed in life, no doubt understand.     "However, before we can proceed, there is something--"     Then Rosa steps forwards suddenly, "Please, your majesty, I need to speak with you!" Louis looks exceedingly alarmed. The Nobles and everyone else explode into an offended babble at the audacity of this woman to interrupt the king. Enark has a grimace/forced-smile on his face of, 'what the fuck are you dooooooinnnng', replacing the one of thoughtfulness while he listened to the explanation. "Mister Louis, could you please--?" 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord is quite content to find his place as near the throne as possible. When he does, he takes note of the children. No, they were led, shaped, by Luc? By this 'Belara'? For a moment, Kord muses over this being's nature. Then if Enark hasn't heard of her, it may mean that something happened to her. Her place in history could've ended rather abruptly.     None of his musing breaches the countenance of eerie and sedate walking. The mask does not betray a single thing, not of emotion or otherwise. Only the slightest movements of 'her' head are required to take in what is happening.     Actually... Kord pauses in his step completely, and his head swivels mechanically, eyes fixating directly on the one that suggested something filthy about the Gargoyle Knights. The pride Kord can see in these children is not something to be trifled with, lest it breed a contempt all too familiar to himself. In fact, he has a notion to believe Belara only would've resisted reaching out and plucking the noble's throat out as simply as grabbing a glass of wine by a very thin hair, because of the politeness expected of the occasion.     She hated these people. It was clear in how they reacted to her attention.     Kord doesn't pause for long. The apparent method actor hardly disturbs the procession of little soldiers, and finds a place near Prospero.     Then the King arrives, and he is a sight to behold. Suddenly, it became clear to Kord a simple truth, a fact that had eluded him. Something clicked in his head, as thought upon the rain of blood, the aura of intense and alien fear, and the stories he's heard until now. The state of the Gargoyle Knights then and now. Nothing could make Kord hate Luc more than how he felt right at that moment, because he came to understand something vital about the events in this place.     Before he could point anything out, Rosa spoke.     Shadows around him deepened and crawled. His head canted forward and his hands fell to his sides. His gaze fixated directly on Rosa, and he leered at her. He leered so hard she might feel it, because of the oppressive saturation of darkness that comes with Kord's absolute, 'what the FUCK are you doing' attention.     He smiled behind his mask.     This should be good. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Rose and Louis are being flanked and guarded by Tomoe,s he's popped a few passive defence buffs on them, it's very likely to be needed if things go bad. Tomoe is there ready to guard them if it seem to be a thing she's not sure what the solduers are up to but wonders. Could they be after a dead enemy to pump them for information needed in their world? She wonders but she's more focused on her charges she also attempts to loiok at the Crimson King and feels a chill about this. The the talk of the gods being dead comes up she gets an idea somthing is broken and has been long broken before the world of the dead exploded. She moes to keep up with hte woman for a moment and she moves to make sure she's in between her charges and hte King, this is going to hurt she supsects and she's prepping her more overt tanking abilities right now incluiding heavier but very noticable defence buff if things hit the fan she's going to pop them and protect thse two even if it might kill her. Priscillai may recall Tomoe has basically died once during the death game of SAO, maybe something broke that day in her and never has quite mended it self. "My King forgive my charges, they have made a great jourey to seek you out and I beg you to forgive any transgression they might have made upon thee." 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Without the whispers of the Darkness and the insight they grant, Priscilla is left with far less understanding of the Crimson King's nature, save that it explains the pervasive stench of blood that been present for some time. That aspect is easy enough for her to ignore, being so, so very used to it, but she ill-appreciates the secondary aura at play, and it immediately gives her a very good idea upon whose, or more precisely, what's, blood he had become saturated and swollen with power upon. It seems she could certainly blame this bastard for /something/.     "The dead gods." she murmurs into the radio. "Their sarcophagi. We hath seen them before. Once. If they art the passage to Barad Ghul, it is very likely that we may be forced to returneth to Escher." Because Leyanne is doing her honest best, Priscilla also takes the time to explain the weirdly named city, and its relevance as a sort of 'base of operations' for fixing the broken link to the land of the living, which they had been hoping to find a while ago. Also that Escher is a horrible non-euclidean library tower full of mimics and that it absolutely sucks, but has doors that lead everywhere. Let anyone make whatever they will of a Blood Mother constantly keeping up a private conversation with a worshiper of Styx.     Rosa opens her fat mouth. Priscilla said this was a terrible idea before. She already knows where this is going. Fortunately, she had asked Tomoe beforehand to take care of the couple, and she has faith in the Iron Lily's dedication to the ideal of protecting innocents and her capability as a tank, but she doubts the King of Lostrata will suffer it lightly. "Count Kord? Art thou in a position to move, shouldst the royal guards do so? I hath mine doubts the king wouldst rise from his throne, however, there art answers only possible to be gained from the living present, than figments of the past we shalt likely see again, even if only in record." At that point though, she has to find the soldiers, and ask them pretty cleanly: "And what of thee? Art all of thee here for something thou wouldst ask of these mock phantoms?" She really hopes there isn't going to be a concerted effort to disrupt the proceedings with outspoken pleas.     While she has the opportunity, Priscilla at least finally, vocally interjects: "Pray, proceed, thine majesty. If thou hath it within thine heart, hear the woman out later. We hath all assembled so eagerly to hear what it is thou hast to say." Let her weird costume translation put that into plain English. Probably in a flattering and flirty way, given this ridiculous outfit. 

:'''{{#var:1100|Leyanne Mace (1100)}} has posed:''' Leyanne Mace listens intently to Priscilla's explaination about the library and space here. A plastic hand meets the forehead of her mask as Rosa speaks, talking to the dead king. She shakes her head "Girl's gonna get herself crushed if she doesn't zip..." Tiny mutters, watching and listening. She seems relieved when people intervene on her behalf. "Forgive them, sire." She speaks up, compelled to because, well, aren't nuns supposed to be about compassion? Besides, the others will quickly throw glares at her if she's not doing it right. "I fear the excitement of proceedings may have over-excited her." If you're gonna do it, go ham. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Rosa pauses at the commotion, but then tries to push ahead regardless, the desperation in her eyes clear. The Crimson King raises a hand, and gradually everyone shuts up. He listens to what Tomoe has to say, while Rosa cringes a bit under Kord's glare. As Tomoe and Priscilla speak up, the king waits, listens, and then says, "A petitioner who has travelled far to find me. Vouched for by a Dragon Knight who calls me her king instead of that of her own Candle, a Witch of Styx, and one of Prospero's Blood Maidens. Very well, Blood Mother, Dragon Knight, blessed one. I shall hear what she has to say. This will be a night like no other. Before the momentous occasion, I can spare a moment."     Rosa looks around, more terrified than ever now that she has the eyes of everyone on her. The fear radiating from the king amplifies that fear, making her quiver and shake, opening and closing her mouth, unable to make words. Louis steps forward, grabbing his partner's hand, and squeezing it. She takes a deep breath, and fights down the fear as best she can. "I... We..." She looks to Louis again, glance apologetically back at Priscilla and Tomoe and Enark. Then she faces the King again. "We... Lost our child. We have tried everything to get her back. The most advanced medical technology, magic rituals, we even hired a necromancer, and tried to find something that could grant wishes. We have nothing left. We have tried everything else. But then we heard that this place... Lumiere, is the land of the dead. That the dead can come back here. So when we got an invitation... We thought... We'd ask if you could reunite us."     The fact that they're living people speaking as though they came from outside of Lumiere, the mention of the invitation, and all of that, is probably not parsed as intended by the Dead here. The magic of their masks. It makes it sound like whatever would make sense given the context of the time period and environment.     "A sad tale to be sure." the Crimson King says after a time. "You have my word that you will be reunited with your child soon." The ominous implications of that promise are lost upon Rosa and Louis as tears come to their eyes. They are too happy to have their final hope realized to question it.     As Priscilla questions the soldiers, they look upon her grudgingly, and then say, "We have nothing to ask of him. Don't worry about that." David titters, "Quite the reassurance, exactly as reassuring as the king's own word, very soothing, promising, and probable cause to depart, away, away, away. I've had my fill for the eve, so I'll bow out here. Good night, good morning, good day, good afternoon, good bye!" Then the red-suited, horn-wearing businessman literally bows out and starts making for the nearest exit.     Unfortunately for him, the royal guards move to block him, causing him to stop short, hands behind his back, smiling broadly and innocently. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Bartrum has his own bone to pick with the King. "While you're passing out favors, how about breaking curses? The one you put on me thirty years ago? The people killed by--"     The king cuts him off with a wave of his handle. "Yes, yes. Prospero will see to it. He is adept with sorcery. Whatever your problem is, he can certainly resolve it." The gracious mood appears to be wearing thin. Bartrum bares his peculiarly sharp teeth, but backs down for now.     The Crimson King returns his attention to the matter at hand. "It occurs to me, that one of the reasons why there has been so much disorder and chaos in Lumiere, and in Lostrata in particular before I took the throne, was because we have all forgotten what it is to be alive. Prospero has aided us in experiencing that once more, to a degree. But there is something more fundamental missing than a pulse or breath in one's lungs. More than the taste of real food, or the warmth of a lover's kiss. It is the single most primal factor of human existence. It is what motivated us to survive, and also ensured we followed the rules and laws of the world."     He raises both hands, gesturing as he speaks with sharp-fingered gauntlets. "I speak, of course, of Fear."     Right them, Prospero leans over to whisper to 'Belara', quietly enough not to be overheard by the king despite proximity. "That is an interesting mask you are wearing."     The King continues his grand speech. "Fear is what kept us alive. It kept us safe. It also kept order. Fear of pain, fear of loss, fear of consequences, fear of death. We are all dead down here, there is not much left for us to lose, and even pain is but a faint memory with these spirit bodies we possess. So, with all reasons to fear gone, what reason have we to beware of consequences for our actions? Why should we do as we are told? It is holding us back, this lack of fear... This lack of... Humanity." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     At the same time, Skull Squadron quietly load silver-tipped rounds into their guns and turn off the safeties. Oh, that can't be good.     The vampire king finishes his speech with, "I intend to fix that, by teaching the Dead what it is to fear once more. Then, and only that, will we be organized enough to reclaim the Earth for ourselves--"     The soldiers whip up their guns, one of them yelling out, "You aren't going to reclaim SHIT, UNDEAD SCUM!" Then they open fire. The response is surprisingly subdued. Whatever they're doing is being translated by the magic in a way that is understandable. So while the others all around are appalled, they do not react with the same degree of panic as they might if they realized there were guns being fired. But their rounds pound into the seated King all the same. Deflecting off armor in bright sparks, or thunking into exposed muscle, either way, they are unloading on him. Someone is likely to do something to stop them shortly. But first, the Crimson King stands slowly from his throne. Something bad is about to happen for sure.     And unlike the Dead, Rosa and Louis and Bartrum are taking cover as they find themselves in the middle of a fire fight.     David is just staying as near the back of the group as possible to avoid drawing further attention.     As the level of outer fear increases steadily until the corners of vision begin to go black, the heart pumps faster and faster, cold sweat breaking out, and a feeling of URGENCY climbs in intensity, Prospero leans towards Kord again. "If you intend to get out before midnight, I recommend you start running." Another pause. "Right now." 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord frowns behind his mask as the woman blurts out something about resurrecting a child. The words the King says are, sadly, a predictable response. Whether honest or sinister, it makes him frown behind his mask. No, the mature response is to tell them 'No.' Death is not always meant to be struggled against. Sometimes, it just wins. A fact that they cannot accept because love blinds them.     He grimaces behind his mask, turning his head away to look anywhere else. The nobles all over, the soldiers.     He ignores the rest of their requests, and largely ignores the King ... especially when Prospero leans over to /talk directly to him/. He turns his head just enough to acknowledge but not enough to break character, to shatter the illusion.     As the Crimson King there talks of Fear, of a very real philosophy Kord actually agrees with on many points, he looks at 'Prospero' and tries to stare through the disguise. Alas, he hasn't the senses to pierce a veil this thick, but his feelings may have been correct. He reaches up to adjust his mask a moment, suddenly very conscious of its presence.     "... next time," is all the response he gives Prospero, before just... catapulting out of the room at incredible speed. It'd take little more than a second to clear the threshold onto one of the balconies, and not many more moments to be well out of eyeshot. He doesn't pause to help anyone, he just bails as quickly as he can, faster than any guard is likely be able to stop. In fact, he'd just blow through any guard that actually managed to get in his way, probably.     Kord knows he'd rather be anywhere but in that room when the King acts. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' The pain of someone whose lost a child she knows that pain the parient of a friend of he's lost in SAO come to mind she holds the ground she hears what these two have done for thir parent. She pauses for a moment she cinges though things could get bad with how tht was phrased she pauses for a moment as she ake redy to see how things go. She looks to the parents for a moment then sees one man has the sense to get the hell out of dodge already, good she hopes he can find his way out of here. Then the guards move to stop him. Fear and pain how you know your still alive is something she has long come to undertand. Things seem to be getting worrysome to her though. The king speaks of reclaiming the Earth though the dead boiling over the natural order breaking? Though she can understand the drive to keep ones self, that's something pretty big to her given she's been lost for a long time on whom she really was. She wioll be popping those active buffs on rosa Louis and David at this point and if the business man is somehow in range he'll get it too. "WE ARE LEAVING!" She'll move to put her wepaon away and she'll move to the couple. She looks to them and will move to say "I will get you out of here, come I don't think the unification he offers is what you seek. I know a few people but we have to get out of here." There also is a point to letting go she looks to David and the Business guy. "Don't just stand there we need to move." There is naught that can be done for the soldiers who have come hunting, sigh why here they could be going elsewhere to hunt the dead unless could the Crimson king reach out into the multiverse? She will move to pick up both of the couple if she has to to carry them but she's intending to guide them out and the others as well she calls to the soldiers. "This is the past you can't to naught to it you will end up stuck here s one of the undead forever yourselves..." 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Dead child. Of course it was a dead child. What else could possibly motivate a couple to do this insane stunt together? Priscilla has only the barest notion of sympathy for the two. She can respect their dedication and fortitude, but not their reasons. Separation is a fact of life, to say nothing of death, and children have never been sacred from it.     The fact that the hiker claims to have been cursed 30 years ago, despite Lumiere's unification not even being close to that old, perplexes Priscilla, but she doesn't really have the time to consider it. Of /course/ the soldiers could only be here to start a firefight. At that point, though their confidence is admirable, they've bought their own farm. Whatever the rest is, it won't be heard tonight. Not in this time. It's almost a sad thing, because as far as Priscilla has ever known, his 'philosophy' is not all that far off from the fundamental essence of Humanity.     Kord is bolting. Priscilla trusts he has his reasons. He has always had a keen instinct for this place; an attunement to the Darkness she had rejected quite emphatically. "We shalt hath answers from thee." she admonishes with equal emphasis to Rosa and Louis. She turns and aims for the door as well, where the royal guards block David, as well as anyone else attempting to leave. As some kind of blood/pleasure doll, she doesn't expect they'll act much aggressively when she practically trots up to them, seemingly with something to say, before lashing out --left right and twice again to be sure-- in the blink of an eye with the gracefully spinning curve of her Lifehunt dagger.     Having to flee the court room for the second time in a row. How mortifying. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The fear effect that the Crimson King is putting out abruptly goes from a 9 to a 20. Skull Squadron's hearts pump so quickly over the course of three seconds that the organs burst, causing them to collapse dead on the spot, vomitting blood. Rosa and Louis barely suffer a similar fate due to being far enough away, but they are hit with such an intense increase in blood pressure that they pass out. Bartrum falls to his hands and knees, growling and screaming rather than either dying or passing out. And before their eyes, his werewolf costume becomes much less real than the wolf he begins to transform into. White fur sprouts from all over his body, spreading and spreading, his ears migrate to the top of his eat, extending into points. His libs elongate, change shape, and reverse direction as hands melt into paws. The whole transformation takes place over about fifteen seconds as the steadily building fear turned into full-blown panic, Dead people running and screaming as they are reminded exactly what fear feels like.     The gigantic white wolf turns, snarling to the others, and says in a deep, growling tone, "Any of you who can not get down quickly on your own, get on." David is the first one on, almost before Bartrum even finishes. With Tomoe grabbing Rosa and Louis, that just leaves Enark and Priscilla.     As the Royal Guards try to stop people from fleeing through violence, firing huge red-and-gold arrows into the bodies of the Dead, the devil man, the werewolf, the zombie couple, and Enark all benefit from Tomoe's continuous defense buffs, ensuring they are not caught in the cross fire, and what does hit them glances off harmlessly.     The Gargoyle Knights do not suffer the fear aura well, but to their testament they manage to remain standing where many others fall to the ground in cowering balls or flee in a panic. And they try to help everyone else get out, even as the Royal Guards interfere to try to stop them. Prospero slinks back into the darkness near the throne, with some sort of device in hand, as all the various Shadows begin to converge on him.     Is he about to... Activate the 'Never Tombs'? 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     As Kord flies away, he may catch sight of the disturbance below, people feeling something is wrong, sensing the coming disaster before it happens. But something even more eye-catching is the bright flash of light in the distance, off behind the Palace. A series of underground explosions go off in quick succession. Then a sound worse than fear, worse than the loudest bomb, worse than anything, resonates through everything. It is the sound of a clock striking. But it also the sound of the inevitable end of everything. The certainty that of there one day being Nothing. No life, no death, just an empty cosmos, spinning on endlessly full of galaxy-sized blackholes, until even that ends, and there is simply no more anything, forever.     The ornate structures all around begin to crack.     The clock strikes a second time, as the Fear radiates outwards like a wave of black needles, chasing after the Elites. Bartrum snatches up Tomoe, who is in turn carrying Rosa and Louis, and tosses them onto his back. As Priscilla skillfully dispatches the two well-armored guards before they can react to her as a threat, the White Wolf picks up Priscilla from behind by the back of her dress and then they all get a hair-rising vertical ride down the outside of the Palace. The agile beast leaps and runs down the surface, going from wall to balcony to tower to anything he can use to accelerate the fall. But it is such a long, long, long fall. Even with Enark trying to ward them with water shields so that longer distances can be jumped without fearing injury upon impact, it seems to take far too long. Like running from something awful in a nightmare.     The clock strikes three.     Towers fall, the screams below come up to meet them as a keening echo. The clock strikes four, and the ground splits under the weight of a second apocalypse. A hollow *WHUMPF* can be heard from somewhere far below them, deep underground, and then that same ground upon which so many souls flee their fate, just implodes, sending them hurtling down into the depths.     This must have been when Final Destination was shattered, and the arrival point for the dead was blasted and burnt by the sheer volume of newly-Dead souls arriving all at once. What they are witnessing here... 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     This is the cataclysmic event that will later be called the Death of All Light.     The Doomsday Clock strikes five, and cracks begin to spread across the moon in the sky. Blue fire pours races along the fissures, pouring in huge geysers. Ships at port race in their panic to set sail. The crumbling of cliff faces, the corrosion of the geography, sends massie boulders raining down to crush not just docked ships, but the towns and villages nearby.     Sixth strike.     Kord is the first to the path out, flying into the fog that swirls around him, denser than when he first arrived. It pulls at him, thick and soup-like, making his flight slower than it should be, but he is still fast enough, and early enough, to break through. He comes tearing out of the fog bank, and right out in front of the Mask Maker's cart.     Inside, the clock strikes seven as the fissures spread outwards, consuming more and more of the surroundings. The living who came here for a party are down there somewhere, lost, and possibly already dead. Bartrum reaches the ground level and fights his way across dissolving terrain. The blood pool in the sky, unseen by all but Kord, reaches its limits, and collapses, flooding everything in unseen waves of red.     The Crimson King moves to the balcony that Kord entered through originally, and looks down upon all the destruction. It is not what he intended, but it can still serve a purpose.     The clock strikes eight.     The wolf leaps over the vast chasm, almost seeming like he's going to make it, and then hits the edge of the huge hole on the other side. Hanging on with just his forelegs, he scrambles, unable to use rear legs to get ahold of anything in the hollowed out terrain below him. He puts all his supernatural strength into it and whips his body, flinging everyone back into the fog bank. How well they land will vary, but they are back on the path. And Bartrum's grip on the ground fails as the ledge he clings to falls, taking him down with it. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The clock strikes nine.     The fog is almost like a wall by now. They must push with all their strength, all their will, to make it through. Everything trembles around them, the sound of the land of the dead rupturing under the deluge of every living thing dying at once, a deafening accompaniment to their struggles.     Ten strikes.     The fog closes in on them suffocatingly, crushingly. Which way is the right away again? Where are the lights? They have no path. No guides. No way to tell forwards from back anymore...!     Eleventh strike.     Then they just pop out of the fog, leaving the cataclysm behind. In the remaining seconds they have to them, removing their masks and turning them over is barely possible. But it is enough. 
}}

5536/Exploration: Chopping Grounds (1)

2018-02-02T04:04:29Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/10/27 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=Priscilla and Finna have a super team-up of ultra friendship to investigate the underground horrors of Barro..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/10/27
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=Priscilla and Finna have a super team-up of ultra friendship to investigate the underground horrors of Barrowville.
|Cast of Characters=974, 513, 70
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Once, when the Union was still a thing that existed, Elites from outside of Lumiere came upon a place called Escher after being warned it was not somewhere they wished to go by bandit Lanterns, one of whom tried to lock them on the other side of a fence with some sort of void-tendrilled Nothing Elemental that even the near-mindless Unlit fled from. As they came up the path towards Escher's base, they could see in the distance another tower without obvious path of approach, emerging up from some maze-like tangle of decaying structures.     A red glow rose up from the spaces between them to light the tower's base, like magma cracks in volcanic stone, and the smell of death, rot, smoke, and burning meat, even carried to them on stagnant air, was the first real odor in Lumiere since their arrival, when all else has been dust and ash.     The sound of screams had been distant, but had carried.     The Pristine Plagueway, where Crow was first encountered, winds all the way around Barrowville, an elaborate highway of stone suspended in the air. Of all the places that the Pristine Plagueway can reach, they have seen scarcely any thus far. Only one of its destinations, the Gutter Disgorge, where they encountered the ambushing Hook Cloaks in the fetid sewers. Though the 'order halls' established by Lanterns quick to claim unused islands and fortresses attached to the Pristine Plagueway were seen from a distance, neither they, nor any other part of the Plagueway has seen extensive exploration.     That it is where Crow was first met is what led Enark to seek the Shadow here. And that is how he discovered another way into the depths of Barrowville's sewers, and ever closer to the second Marble Guardian, who guards the very tower they saw so long ago, that will lead them up and OUT of this hellhole finally, to whatever lies above them. And thus, that is where they are gathered now. A smaller team, for infiltration and scouting. As they stand at the threshold of what sounds and smells like a combination of furnace and slaughter house, a blackened archway at the end of a road over bottomless mist and fog, the other side of which is a faint red glow and passage walls like charcoal, the activity level alone is enough to make this one of the liveliest places they've been in Lumiere so far, excepting that time last year when they experienced a recreation of the past.     Enark is nervous, but determined to continue his search, no matter where it takes him, as long as it leads to his missing friend. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Normally, the smell of roasting meat would have Finna's mouth watering. But this being Lumiere, she's not so sure she wants to see what's burning. Her sharp nose can already tell it's not the sort of things she normally sinks her teeth into. Well, there's also her ears...     And the fact that the location is so gosh darned hot that her winter coat is FAR, far too much for the region! The trotting fox whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiines her protest with each and every step taken on the volcanic terrain,...     "Why are we here again?!" She complains to the four winds... and engages in a fit of the same rapid-shaking that many furred creatures use to dry off. Except...     Except instead of casting off any water, she instead showers anyone who's unfortunate to be standing too close with some dust and HER ENTIRE WINTER COAT. Yeah. All her fine, fuzzy white fur just EXPLODES in every direction... and like a snake shedding its skin, she is different underneath. Now instead of white as snow, she is a dirty, mottled greyish-black mixture. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     "A very good question." intones thin air. At this point, Priscilla isn't in the habit of wandering into new territory in Lumiere in a way anyone can plainly see. It's just asking to pull aggro from multiple mobs at once, or worse, run into an ambush. Her tone seems less of the cooperative sort, though. "If thou findeth the surroundings so disagreeable, thou art perfectly welcome to leave."     Yeah. Still not on the best terms with Finna. Still, she somehow seems more chill without a whole bunch of subordinates to look after. Weird. Of course, there's the fact that Finna hadn't decided to follow them in disguise for hours, but maybe it also has to do with, well, the utterly massive amount of control she has over the situation without anyone extra watching. Perhaps.     "However, at the very least, I am adamant that Sir Crow is owed this much, and that we shalt be ill disposed to continuing further without him. I am not entirely sure what it is that leads Sir Enark in this direction, but I shalt place mine faith in his scholarly expertise." The crossbreed, at least, is barely fazed by the reek of burning flesh and blood. Her senses had been traumatized into numbness by sights and sounds and smells of death so long ago that this new twist on Lumiere's macabre usual is more of a potentially useful hint than a reason to be scared.     Invisible or not, she proceeds with caution. Narrow tunnels are bad places to be caught even if you are see-through, since it takes very little effort to cover the whole way forward. The only sense of hers that isn't assailed by the slaughterhouse atmosphere reaches out in search of 'living' souls. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark says, "While, admittedly, Crow is capable of rendering himself undetectable, the fact that my search of the Pristine Plagueway has been so completely fruitless, paired with discovering a place connected to those who attempted to abduct him once before have led me to at least consider the possibility that just as Carna was rebounded to Lumiere when a space-time alteration occurred, so too might have Crow experienced the same when summoned from within your Painting. That or he is still in there somewhere, but we have yet to discover sign of that. And failing new evidence appearing, the precedent set by Carna is what I am relying upon presently."     He says all this while standing back and brushing dog hair from his robes, real or imaginary. He then turns back to the dark archway, unsure where Priscilla is presently in regard to the party formation, but just hoping he's not the one in the lead as he slips into the passage, presumably with fox in tow (or ahead, or alongside, or something).     The sensing for living souls turns up quite a few pings. Both of the cobbled-together Lantern variety, and, oddly enough, about a half-dozen actual, living-person souls. Outsiders? They are all further within.     The tunnel doesn't remain a tunnel for long, soon opening up above them, and putting them seemingly at the very bottom of a patchwork of dark-industrial structures, cables, crane arms, girders bridging the gaps, and so on extending upwards into darkness.     The path is a crevice, sandwiched between those sorts of buildings, some with windows, others merely with arrow-slits for archers to shoot through, perhaps, or maybe just observation holes. Blind alleys and spaces small enough only for small children to fit through line their route on both sides, but as they work their way through this claustrophic path, tight enough to squeeze on either side of a full-sized Priscilla, it seems they have gone unnoticed for the time being. Even if the sounds and gradually intensifying brick-red light dappling on the the walls indicates they are coming closer and closer.     At leat until some horrific mass of insect legs comes surging out of a trash-packed alley to the side, spearing towards them with serrated chitin, like some awful combination of praying mantis, spider, and cockroach, but all scaled up to about the size of a house. The main body and head remain unseen, but if it seizes or impales any of them, they will likely get a closer look at such than they wish to when pulled into the nearly inaccessibly tight space between two buildings, and mounds of refuse to be consumed. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "Oooooooh. Do *I* gotta be the big girl?" Finna faintly snap-mocks back at Priscilla. The fox may just be fearless. At least, so long as Priscilla isn't DOING anything.     Or perhaps Finna's confidence stems from something else. She doesn't seem terribly concerned about Priscilla's invisibility. The confidence might be disconcerting...     Although it might simply be that Finna is more focused on the task at hand than she appears, because she bounds over to Enark with a happy yip... and when she lands... she's once again standing upright as a young woman dressed in somewhat skimpy hunting leathers, grinning like a lunatic...     And, well, building up a heck of a sweat in this heat.     "Gonna have to trust you with the weird sorcery stuff. Hope Crow can take care of himself 'til we find him!"     Her chipper cheer isn't much impacted by the increasing heat or the cramped tunnel.. but when it opens she puts a hand to her forehead and gazes every which way!     "..... Uhhhhh... oooh, don't like the looks of this! Way too many vantage points on us..." She's quiet otherwise while studying the place...     Except for a YELP when the insectile THING comes whipping out of nowhere. She dives instantly in front of Enark and flicks a hand up---     Five daggers go sailing for the thing's joints all in different angles, each dagger trailing a silvery thread! 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla only just barely follows all of that. That is to say, she gets it, but mostly only agrees with it out of lack of expertise to find anything faulty with the logic. "As good a guess as any, I supposeth. Let us hope it is the last we shalt be made to maketh."     Trundling along through the dark and oppressively cramped alleys, Priscilla is pretty much forced to take on the stature of her 'mortal' guise, or else straight up be a blockade in the way of anything trying to attack. Though she'd be okay with soaking for Enark, it does defeat the purpose of taking point. Partway along that journey, she hesitates just a moment, to say: "There art others . . . alive, here. Not simply Lanterns, but /living/." That /severely/ bothers her, considering the closest to the living in this place are the few remaining Lit.     The brief stop is fortunate timing, because it leaves her just short of the explosive surge of the urban ambush predator; no doubt one of those undead amalgams that adapts to Lumiere's nightmare environments to prey on the Dead Lights of wandering Lanterns. It's unfortunate that she can't even use her new weapon in the enclosed space, but she has other options. When the thing charges forward, with Finna no doubt being the obvious target, Priscilla dips forward and slides under its thorax, any leg clearance from the ground willing, flicks out her long, wickedly curved dagger, and jams it into the creature's underside, ripping through as much chitin as possible and injecting lethal Lifehunt charge into its blood. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The scything legs get stabbed in the joints by Finna's blades, twitching and thrashing as their serrated chitin draws sparks from the black steel and ash-covered stone of the cramped passage's walls and ground. They have surprising reach, and even after that initial evasion, if not for the knives keeping the squirming, giant-insect appendages from bending properly, they could have shot out and through someone vulnerable, like, say, Enark, who wasn't quite as agile as the others in dodging and nearly fell in his scramble to get away.     Then Priscilla bravely reaches her arm into the dark hole lined with the discarded refuse of humans, from old cans and food wrappers dripping with rancid grease and spoiled food, used diapers and crumpled filthy newspapers, to the half-eaten remains of dead rats and small dogs, and who knows what other foulness. All so that she can reach into a pit of utter pitch from which the unholy combination of roach, spider, and mantis has produced this current, dark-brown, chitin'd horror legs, where the very maw it wishes to eat them with lies somewhere deeper within, unseen, and stab into what is hopefully its underbelly with a knife of her own, working the blade around to tear up as much as she can while afflicting it with her weapon's foul power.     The horrific, high-pitched, nails-on-chalkboard screeching of the creature from its injury is bad enough, but the way it goes berserk, its legs thrashing despite the obstructions in its joints, damaging itself in the process as it carves gouges into stone and metal, has the potential to be far more painful to anyone still in striking range, before it gives a few last convulsive spasms and then withdraws its limbs half-way back into its den in its death reflex, at least leaving the path cleared to continue their journey.     Ahead, it looks like this is not the last such side-passage or alley they should be considered with, but the slaying of this ambush predator at least, for now, seems to have left them without any injury. But this happened only a relatively short time after entering this area. If anyone has a clock to check, it's been about 15 minutes since they entered this passage. What else lies ahead of them? Enark is coughing and wheezing as he gets to his feet, shaken, but still prepared to move forward. His breathing has a whistling to it that wasn't there before his torso injury. He tries to steady himself, to suppress his fear responses, and remind himself he doesn't need air. Wordlessly, he proceeds ahead, though he takes the time to cast a water shield on both himself and Priscilla and Finna with some muttered magic words.     Unless there is cause to stop or go back, the exploration proceeds, taking the trio past more alleys, some stuffed with garbage like before. As long as they keep their distance and move quietly they are not ambushed again by giant bugs. Though at one point they turn a corner and find themselves faced two paths. One of them is an alley with dolls and mannequins sitting, lying, hanging suspended, and otherwise populating it. For those still with eyes intact, glass eyes stare directly at them, unblinkingly, as though arranged knowing that someone would be coming through this way.     The other path is a set of extremely steep stairs leading down to a wider cobbledstone road, which in turn slopes downwards to where that red light is even more intense, and the heat it signifies. Ther are a lot of ledges above this path, though. And it seems too much to hope for that there won't be ANY ambushers.     So which way will they go? The tangle of artificial bodies can be pushed through easily enough, assuming they don't do anything weird, but at the end of the path is a dimly-red corner that may lead to their destination without the likelihood of attack from above. But who knows if these dolls will actually be so accomodating? 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark looks both ways, nervously. And then makes a surprising suggestion. "Dolls were the symbol and servants of one of the current generation of Lords of Silence, Maretta of the Hollow Children. It might be a sign the passage is safe that so many are located here." He looks as far up as he can, seeing the tangle of wires and wooden bodies above. "On the other hand, this is the generation of Lords who abandoned their posts. The opposite might be the case. And even if protective, I can not say with certainty whether Maretta has any influence this far from her den." 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' No more HORRIBLEBUG! The screeching makes Finna a bit uncomfortable - especially considering her sensitive ears - but she just flick-wrenches her hand backwards... and all the knives she tossed detach and sail back towards her on what are revealed to be threads of Essence silk. She closes her hands around them all at once in a way that weirds out onlookers - one might think she palmed them, but WHERE THE HELL DID THE KNIVES GO?!     The watery shield is accepted with a sigh of thanks... but her sharp ears pick up the difference in Enark's breathing. The foxgal falls back to Enark's side again, clearly determined to guard the ONLY PERSON WHO KNOWS THIS CRAZY PLACE.     It's a long and uneventful trek from there, which Finna is thankful for... but round one bend and...     "OHNOWWHAT." Finna's never going to get used to this place. She gapes in full disbelief at finding dolls and stuff of all things in this place... but just rubs her forehead and presses onwards. A few times she returns a doll's stare though, weirded out by them.     "Think it's unlikely! That any lord or lady would make a home here... only thing you can do is sweat sweat sweat!" 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla gets to add one more to the huge succession of life choices she regrets when she crams her dagger into that space. Despite her total and complete numbness to all sorts of death, horror, gore, and mutilation, filth of this variety fills her with an unspeakable kind of revulsion. Between the glittering city of the gods, and the cold and sterile painted world, her exposure to the tremendous amounts of waste humans generate has always been minimal, and intentionally distant.     She will, in fact, /demand/ that Enark summon some water for her to drench her arm in, and then double clean her dagger, returning to visibility long enough to show both covered in bug blood. From then on, she starts chucking prism stones and the odd alluring skull (she has fewer of those) in front of really glaringly dangerous looking alleys and alcoves, though thankfully without response it seems.     Dolls. She has a good relationship with dolls. She has a bad relationship with heights. Lordran things. Let's go with the dolls. "Regardless, even if the dolls art to be untoward, they art clearly present and manageable obstacles. I believeth the saying is 'the devil thou knowest'." For lack of any objection, she'll take down that path. If the cluster of mannequins is too oppressive to really move through them without bumping and shifting them, she won't even bother to turn invisible again. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark makes the time to divert some of Priscilla's water shield to her cleansing and that of her weapon before they are on their way again. She may still want to get some disinfectant or a bubble bath or something when she gets back, though.     Priscilla seems to have decided for the group, so Enark shrugs at Finna and hurries along after her. But he doesn't hurry TOO fast. Working their way through the mass of dolls and mannequins, most of them simply plain frames, with no decoration beyond their basic, sculpted faces, no clothing, no wigs. Some don't even have eyes, though many do. And they don't always match colors.     The feeling of being watched is definitely present, but what one makes of that sensation is up to the individual. Where one might find it creepy, another might find it comforting to know someone is looking out for them. It may take some ducking and jostling and pushing past limp bodies suspended on wires to make their way through, but except for Enark having an encounter with one of the dolls seemingly pinching its fingers shut around the hem of his robe (not intentionally, of course! ...Probably. No deliberate action was observed, at least. It could have been accident!) and some dangling fingers running through Priscilla's hair if she doesn't duck low enough, and an innocent-eyed, pouty-faced doll slumping forward right in front of Finna as she approaches, head turned to the side so that its crystal-blue eyes are looking up at her... Well, they escape this path completely without any harm whatsoever. That's nice for a change.     At the far end of the alley, there is a shorter alley around the corner, ending at a ledge overlooking the place they have come here to explore.     Giant iron wheels lined with spikes have bodies impaled upon them. The wheels turn by the efforts of hulking, gray-fleshed figures wearing blood-stained burlap sacks on their heads, pushing levers around and around, working chains, that draw the impaled figures across a sea of hot coals, one after the other. The sizzling of charred flesh is minimal, all moisture long since steamed out of them, leaving them pieces of charcoal.     Huge pits have pulley systems drawing up large contains of molten blood, flaming and filled with the aspect of Despair, just like the Marble Guardian that produced it.     Wagons filled with bodies, many of them still squirming, are rolled along placidly by more of the bag-headed men, down unknown paths, and occasionally to one of the many series of large furnaces embedded in the walls. Wooden tables are set up where still-thrashing Lanterns are brought forth, injected with some clear fluid from hideously large syringes that are simply jabbed in wherever it is convenient, and then the bag-men proceed to chop the Lanterns up, butchering them into parts, without said Lanterns 'dying' and dissolving into Dead Lights as they normally would when suffering such injuries. Hands and feet and other parts are shovelled off the tables into troughs of sorts, while others are placed into buckets and carried away.     These and many other scenes of carnage and nightmare fuel are everywhere in the large open area before them. The walls and their dark-industrial design, stretching upwards for what must be a few miles at least, gleam from the painfully red glow shining from whatever blood-foundry lies below them. That crimson glow illuminates the silhouette of a vast tower high above, though only barely visible from down here.     This is a very unpleasnt place indeed.     New Area Discovered:     CHOPPING GROUNDS 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Well. That . . .     That's something. Alright.     Priscilla is reminded, on a very distant level, of a certain other cult of man-eaters and man-butchers she had the misfortune of briefly encountering. That had been some psychotic degenerates in a dank basement. The scale on display here is /industrial/. Working in teams to chop and grill countless scores of woefully unfortunate Lanterns, with specialty built machinery and specialty concocted solutions, clearly designed and perfected a long time ago, being built on the back of the horrific Marble Guardian only recently slain. To what ends, Priscilla can only guess. It'd make sense that the city is filled with scavengers like this. The victims might even be its residents. The conclusions she hopes is inaccurate, is that the entire process might be to feed something other than just the usual monsters.     There is an important question, though; one that she practically whispers in the flickering shadow of the fireglow, well far away enough not to be seen.     "How long dost thou expecteth the remaining blood shalt last? Its source is slain." She /really/ hopes Crow isn't here. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna's nostrils are the first victims of this heinous torture. She's been smelling wafts of it for quite some time, but as it gets stronger and stronger, and more and more sorts of smells mix into the mess... nausea and disgust mix with downright terror and horror... and the lithe young woman darts off to the side, doubles over...     *BLEEEeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaarghhhhhhhh*     Yeah. Thankfully her stomach was already mostly empty.     She shivers right there and backs up, taking some cover and ducking down instead of exposing herself. In a few moments she's back in fox form, favoring her smaller, less visible form....     "What... WHY....?!" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark is the most skittish of the group by far, and while there is bravery in him to even keep coming into such places of danger and horror after his brush with a second death, it would be reasonable to expect him to be just as appalled by all this as Finna. Instead he is... Frowning in thought. A hand goes to his brow, his body too cold and dead to be affected much by the heat, so the gesture being more as though to massage some thought into his brain than to wipe away sweat. "This seems... Familiar somehow. Terribly familiar, but I can not quite place where I have seen it before." He thumbs the tip of his hook nose a bit, as his hand comes back down and he peeks around the edge of one of the buildings they are sandwiched between in their vantage point.     "I don't know. Perhaps that is its purpose. The Marble Guardians, as far as I have gathered, are Anti-Lantern weapons designed specifically to stop any Lanterns from proceeding in their path to the World of Ashes. Whether placed merely as obstacles, or as challenges to be overcome, I can not for a moment think that using the run-off of a slain Guardian like this was intended on the part of their designer. Clearly there was some connection to the God Forge, but... Maybe someone has somehow tapped into or diverted--" he is cut off in trying to come up with a satisfying explanation in regard to Finna's maybe rhetorical question as well as for his own mind, when he spots a small group of people in hoods and cloaks lined with hooks entering the area from one of the lower passages.     His stomach, such as it is, drops at the sight. Those are the same ones who tried to abduct Crow before. If they're here... Does that mean?     But as the Hookcloaks come, others come after them. A line of people, three or four in military fatigues of some kind, another some woman in a torn pink dress with shoulder looking bruised and dislocated, and the last a small child in a white gown, a truly enormous mass of hair hanging down around her head and running along the ground behind her. Its coloration is hard to say due to the degree of filth covering it, as well as her clothing, and her skin.     Except for the child, all of these people being led on a chain connecting their collars and bindings to each other are living human beings, as far as Priscilla's soul sense can discern. If Finna's nose can detect their smell over all the conflicting odors and the scennt of her own recent sickness, then she gets the same impression. Where the senses of both may falter is with the child, who, though she pads along with the others, head down, face hidden behind her own hair, seems to not even be present despite being openly visible to the eye. She has no presence. It's like, despite looking right at her, she's not even there. They might as well be looking at a wall while searching for any human impression. Whatever she is, she's not alive, not Lit, not a Lantern, and definitely not Unlit.     But they know someone else who can make themselves undetectable, don't they? She might be a clue.     And she, along with the other victims, horror at what they are seeing, panic and revulsion, starting to overwhelm their clear fatigue from the injuries they have suffered at the hands of their captors as they are brought before one of the bag-men. The looming figure lurches away from where he is observing the pouring of molten blood into some sort of black-steel mold, and moves to meet up with the Hookcloak.     It is quite likely they are witnessing the method (or one of them) by which these butchers obtain their meat. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla's expression was already tense and pensive at the grotesque sights before her, but it falls even further when she feels those distinctly living, breathing souls, being marched into the fore, becoming a darkly glacial stare of hostility. There are only two conclusions here, both of which she airs out loud.     "Either there art, somehow, still survivors of the world up above, or these ones art being transported from the outer Multiverse as meat for the flames." she says. The latter is what spurs her to action.     The Obsidian Greatbow is finally draw from invisibility. Even diminished to meet Priscilla's mortal stature as it it, it can barely be planted and drawn in this space. Even so, she has an eye on the leader, and thus a shot. An iron lance is drawn from . . . well, apparently she had the quiver on her, and selectively invisible this whole time? Is that how all her weapon vanishing tricks work? Or is there a hammer space involved? Needless to say, it can't be one of many given these twists and turns, but she expects one to be enough. A mass of metal the weight of a man, sculpted into a thick, flanged spear goes on the obsidian-bone rest, the metallic string whispers faintly under the colossal draw, and Priscilla looses the dragonslayer great arrow at the leading Hookcloak . . . lined up exactly with the worker figure. With even the slightest degree of luck, it'd skewer them both and hurl them into the boiling vat. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "No way anyone's alive from Lumiere's... living world! Probably... yeah. Disgusting assholes!" Finna would curse further, but there's just no time to express such disgust and rage.     For now though... she just decides to vault down the ledge and slip into stealth of her own. Rather than being outright invisible, she combines hiding with a strange befuddling aura that simply causes her to be entirely overlooked and ignored.     She's headed for the procession, though without knowing what's going on she hasn't commited to anything beyond scouting yet... 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The arrow flies from Priscilla's boy, startling Enark as the giant-sized javelin launches forcefully, impaling the Hookcloak in the midst of its bartering, and the bag-man in front of him. They do both get hurtled back into the steaming, hissing, torrent of burning blood when they ram into the bloodsmithing set-up they have, scattering tools and crates and other miscellaneous objects everywhere in the fall. However, while the Hookcloak dies quickly, vanishing into a fog of Deadlights, and sending the remaining Hookcloaks scrambling to secure their merchandise, the bag-man stands up, his head and shoulders aflame and running with liquefied Despair, that burns away all hope, leaving the very idea of something better merely a reminder of how painfully hollow one has become. He grabs the huge arrow impaling his belly, the fifteen-foot tall butcher, working to tear the impaling shaft out of his torso despite the damage being caused, even up to the point of causing all of his putrid intestines to spill out of his torn-open belly to the ground as both he and others around him yell out in rage as they point in the direction the arrow came from.     Massive long-hafted hammers, huge butcher knives and meat cleavers, and even a lengh of chain with anvils on both ends are wielded as weapons as the creautres of various, but uniformly large, and a combination of rotund and muscular, begin moving to assault the intruders. Those capable of attacking from afar begin to gather at the base of the ledge that the trio--or duo now, as Finna has slipped away--hurling basins of flaming blood up towards them even if some of it spills back down upon the butchers themselves, or try to strike out with their anvil-chains. The rest are heading up the path that they could have taken instead of the alley that they did, perhaps intending to try to circle around. But how any of them could possibly fit through that tight corridor full of dolls and mannequins is up to the imagination. Of note, not ALL the butchers and laborers have stopped what they are doing. While some have diverted from their tasks, many others continue about their business. Apparently being under attack by wandering murder-hobos isn't so unusual an event that they feel the need to rush off to battle.     The Hookcloak survivors, however, seem determined not to lose their captives, and as Finna pursues the staggering, confused, exhausted, and wounded humans (plus weird kid) towards one of the numerous alleys that render this place simultaneously a deadly maze and hopelessly unsecure and unsecurable, she may manage to catch them unawards in tight confines. They certainly aren't expecting a fox with a Somebody Else's Problem field to chase them. And taking down the captors would mean freeing the captives.     Enark has retreated from the ledge to go back to the doll-filled alleyway to see if there's any way to stall the enemy. He settles for putting a ward of protection over the other end of the passage, invoking Tharmas's name to make time twist and turn. Anyone who attempts to simply force their way through will, at least for a time, find themselves leaving the way they came as they are turned about without their realizing. It won't stop projectiles, but the ones with the projectiles are attacking from the base of the ledge, not trying to cram their bodies into an alleyway full of dolls.     "Please tell me we have an escape route in mind," Enark pleads. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna's hardly the most principled or heroic person in Creation... or Lumiere... but there is no way in hell she's going to just let a bunch of people be marched off presumably for heartless slaughter!     Which is why she similarly has little mercy for the Hookcloak survivors. The moment she's behind them... Finna is once again in human form - although visible only for a moment...     Her body blurs and ripples, hints of moonlight exuding forth from her skin and then... vwhoooooosh!     Almost entirely silently, she blitzes forth starting from the rear of the chain gant, blurring in and out of sight for only brief split-seconds as she seeks to whip past the gang and deftly carve through every offending throat with poisoned knives. "Sloppy slavers deserve to get knocked down and out for good!"     She ends the superspeed burst, still faintly glowing, at the head of the group... showing a smirk for the captives. "We're getting out of here."     The weird kid with the extreme hair has her worried, but Finna's trying not to show it. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla is somewhat impressed/dismayed the giant beast of grisly labour is still moving, but her intended objective is still accomplished. The handoff is called off, and the Hookcloaks are in disarray, running, hopefully, into the metaphorical (and perhaps literal) waiting jaws of the fox Exalted. Despite the power of her weapon, however, Priscilla is not nearly enough a trained archer to get into a standing shootout with this many enemies, and the greatbow is all power and no repetition, meant for bosses, not hordes. She puts it away, in that 'right on the d-pad' way.     She still has to hold this pass until there are results with the prisoners. Were they merely Lanterns, their fate would be less important, but living souls and the strange non-presence raise serious questions. Without the luxury of dropping aggro, Priscilla actually steps out of and away from Enark's protective ward, putting him to her back, and withdrawing luminous Moonlight, and her wicked Dagger in either hand. "I had considered 'over their corpses'. A change of pace." she replies, with a hint of vicious frost in her voice.     For the time needed, Priscilla walks into the fray. The blue sword lashes out and flaming pots and jangling chains, repelling the dark, supernatural power of the Marble Guardian's blood and slicing through iron with magical force, creating a narrow path in which Priscilla can turn her side and stand between flying anvils, axes, and burning blood splashes. When she has a spare moment in the barrage, Moonlight swirls with motes of shadowy light, and sings out in ringing chorus as she throws out a blade of arcane moonlight into the rear line, slashing and exploding whatever is unlucky enough to be in the way.     Up close, she uses the long and short weapons in tandem, tracing dazzling lines of light through the air with her sword and clashing blades with the force of a 20 foot giant, and lashing out with lethal stabs of the soul-slaying dagger unseen. Part of its effectiveness is her form and her strength, but it's almost as if the twin blades move of their own volition, slowly turning into a revolving dance of endlessly chaining slashes that gradually speed up regardless of the damage she takes. A piece of shrapnel here. A graced blade there. Her dress is dotted with her own blood in several places, but it seems like the crossbreed has almost zoned out into an island of blue and silver murder, as if she's aiming to see how many bodies she can pile up. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The Hookcloaks are caught by surprise, and while some try to retaliate with hand-scythes and projecting the hooks on their cloaks out on cables to catch fox flesh, two wind up fleeing while the others die to Finna's blades. They dissolve into Dead Light mist in the process. The living prisoners are scared, exhausted, wounded, and confused. For all they know this is yet another person here to capture them. But the promise that they are to be rescued causes relief among most, suspicious but hopeful glances among the soldiers, and no particular reaction from the face-concealed-by-hair kid.     The Exalt can then begin working on unbinding them. Hopefully she remembers the way back through the labyrinth of alleys, because trying to find a second exit out of here among all the many, many different paths or just running back the general way they went without a clear idea of their route, could lead to becoming lost, trapped, or running into something even worse.     Maybe the nose knows.     Priscilla makes her way back through the alleyway full of dolls and mannequins, but they seem oddly more of an obstacle on the way back than the way in, like they're trying to keep her from going through. The butchers and bag-men seem to be uncertain of where precisely Priscilla and Enark are until she finally steps out of the alley, searching and looking further down the street. Almost like they can't see the doll-filled passage.     Enark has similar difficulty making it through, and has to cancel the Turn-About ward he placed to redirect hostile force through the application of time, one of only two Time spells he knows, once Priscilla makes it clear she's going out to fight, and then joins her, though he hangs out at the edge of the corridor, ready to cast healing spells and water shields on her.     The guttural, near-bestial roar of rage when the half-dragon is eventually spotted is echoed by the hulking figures around the spotter, and they soon charge forth and into the deadly onslaught of melee and ranged attacks from blades and moonlight.     While it is not finesse they use, their sturdy bodies, brute strength, and great size combine to make them damage sponges that keep taking hits and are slow to fall. However, fall they do, eventually, when enough of their bodies are damaged to cause their collapse and demise. Unlike the Hookcloaks, they do not break up into Dead Lights immediately. They are as slow to dissolve as they are to face a second death. Almost like the Stone Devils did not immediately dissolve, betraying that though they were Dead, they were not quite Lanterns.     The soul-slaying weapon is the one that tends to fell them swiftly, while raw damage dealing means beating on them for an extended period of time, giving fifteen-foot masses of meat and muscle and leathered skin a chance to go up against the twenty-foot giant and possibly land blows by simply presenting a wall of cleavers and meathooks lashing out constantly from enemies that just allow themselves to take hits if it means a chance to kill their target.     But in the battle of attrition, the difference made by both an essentially instantly-lethal dagger and the support magic being tossed onto Priscilla continuously to reduce or eliminate any injury, and to heal anything that gets through the shields means that she is soon surrounded by the pile of bodies she had hoped for, even if they are soon to disintegrate into motes of broken down spirit matter, leaving the street empty once more.     Some other butchers seem to be lumbering their way in Priscilla's direction from the far end of the furnace area upon realizing their allies have fallen. One of them is leading on a chain something like a giant, razor-toothed mouth on the front of a mass of raw, bleeding skin in the shape of a centipede, but with human legs protruding from all over its body. Hopefully Finna will finish freeing the prisoners and bring them back to them before they have to face a second wave, with the addition of even worse opponents. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Though Priscilla had waded into the fray driven as much by a seething desire to do harm to those things she had seen working the mills as anything else, and certainly had confidence in her ability to lay murderous waste to swathes of even tough opponents, she is ultimately glad for Enark's help. She is mighty, but she is not Undead, and so eventually exhaustion and pain from small injuries starts to stack up, so having him cover her where she can't be everywhere at once, and deal with the chip damage that gets through, is probably a near-deciding factor in finally cleaving through the mob.     He has a limited supply of magic, though, and Priscilla has both limited energy, and a limited tolerance to stay here and draw the heat. This is her secondary style of fighting, and neither sustainable, nor terribly safe, and she has absolutely no desire to do the suicidal heroic Elite thing and throw herself on the slavering flesh monster. In fact, with the wheels shut down for the minute, no enemies in aggressing range, and having given Finna what she hopes is plenty of time even for the capricious and inconsistent Lunar, she Nopes the hell on out of there, flicking blood from her blades and practically shoveling Enark back into the alleyway.     "Thou were very much correct in interpreting the dolls as harbingers of safety." she says, almost kind of surprised. Usually that's the thing someone says before the mannequins come alive and strangle someone from behind. Apparently her affinity for dolls paid off. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "Tch.." Finna grouches out some displeasure at seeing the Hookcloaks dissolve into spirit motes. "That just means they'll be back... hoi there, name's Finna! And if you want to live... steel yourself as best you can and follow along! Whoever still has some decent strength left, don't leave behind those without or you're staying here with them."     She belts this off quickly and sharply, dusting her hands off and and sprouting a heck of a playful smirk. She's gotta show some zest and guts to raise their spirits and give them hope after all!     ANd just like that, she once again zips through the group as a blur... and the chains snap apart, cut cleanly in a few weak points of their welds by streaks of silvery light too fast to properly focus on.     Now once again at the 'back' of the procession Fina announces, "Keep your eyes open and wits about you. No telling what's gatherin' out there!" It's.. noisy and smelly enough that she really doesn't WANT to know what's gathering out there!     Thankfully, Finna does have a good way back. The nose does indeed know, and animals like foxes are excellent at, well, marking where they've been Even in human form, she can smell the way she came!     Before she sets off though, she aims another Hard Look at the strangely super-long-haired girl. "... Can you SEE through that?"     Apart from that one - hopefully uneventful question, she leads the group back through the labyrinth of alleys and passes and is quick to flick knives at anything threatening the return to Enark! 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark is indeed running low on magical energies as he is forcibly guided back into the alleyway. There's no new magic to be had after magic itself was killed. All he can do is wait for Lumiere to reanimate the magic he is recycling within him, which means once he is out there is a time frame where he has no power except to make mimics, and that isn't going to be especially useful in this situation. He steps out of the shadows and says, "It was an educated guess, but if I had been wrong, we might have suffered a worse fate. Interpreting portents of the associations of mythical figures is not precisely my area of expertise."     Though he had heard from those who explored the Arcade of skeletal remains found around a Shrine of Light in an area called 'The Arcade'... In the middle of a doll shop. Time passed enough for the Dead to decay into skeletons or for Living explorers to suffer the same fate, without being found by the monsters outside, under the watchful gaze of dolls. While he wasn't thinking of that at the time he made his guess, it fits.     As Priscilla and Enark wait in the alley, Finna comes running up with the freed living souls, doing their best to keep up with each other and help any others that have trouble. The Lunar received no response from the non-presence figure, and she or he or it is also the slowest among them, but the one that moves with the most methodical, unceasing gait. Tireless. Once everyone is together again, they are free to head back down the labyrinth of passages towards the volcanic-rock-looking tunnel they entered through, and out onto the Pristine Plagueway. However, somewhere along the way, the moment no one is looking, the long-haired child seems to have left the group. Because they've vanished.     Just like Crow did when they left the Painting in Lordran.     A gruesome new location they've uncovered, with disturbing new elements to deal with -- including that of outsiders who have no place here being involved. But at least everyone except that mystery child made it back. 
}}

5522/Chimes

2018-02-02T04:03:19Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/10/20 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=Clues are sought about the mysterious Chimes and perhaps where to find Crow, in the lower reaches of the Lib..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/10/20
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=Clues are sought about the mysterious Chimes and perhaps where to find Crow, in the lower reaches of the Library of Murdered Knowledge.
|Cast of Characters=974, 954, 42, 964, 6
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     It has been awhile since everyone has gathered in the Library of Murdered Knowledge. Their last visit to this place was when they were fleeing from hordes of Monstrous Invader Murdering Incognito Constructs, including ones that Enark had not made himself. Crow has apparently been instrumental in safely retrieving things from the Library for further research, due to its ability to go undetected and near-immunity to direct attack, but as they stand in the study that, aside from sojourns into the insane maze of Escher below, was the sole residence for Enark for billions of years, they find that they have a problem.     "Crow is missing," Enark reports heavily as he pours himself some coffee. The coffee maker, television, laptop, and other modern conveniences that have found their way into the study that has shelves stretching up to the ceiling thirty feet above on its shelves, are all the result of regaining access to the outside world, and further being able to visit and retrieve things from the Multiverse that Lumiere is part of now.     "During the visitation to the painting world of Queen Priscilla, he vanished. I am not certain when exactly it happened, due to Crows ability to go unnoticed. But I would guess it was either right before we were all returned to the exterior chamber on the outside of the painting, or occurred simultaneously with said ejection. I am not certain where he is exactly. So whatever knowledge we seek about that drowned city and temple, we will have to find ourselves." He slurps his coffee from his mug. The mug has the text '#1 Coffee Drinker' on it. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord shows up to the sight of many modern devices he still cannot entirely figure out. He can at least come to terms with the purpose of a coffee maker, but the television seems to make him take pains to stay at a certain distance from it, as anything that does anything similar in his world has been haunted by a Rotom or inhabited by a Porygon faerie. The demigod is, thusly, probably standing at a weird distance from Enark if he's near any of the screen-possessing devices, which might be a little silly.     "Odd."     That is all Kord has to say about the shadow's disappearance. "Where do you think such books might be found?" he asks Enark, immediately switching gears to see if he can get a point of reference for what to look for. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Crow is missing.     "What?!"     Enark explains. Staren scratches his head -- In the safety of this room, he's briefly removed his helmet to let his ears move around -- "Could Crow be stuck in the painting? Sheesh... This is a mess..."     He looks towards the door to the library. "You know, all these mimics not built by you... Does someone else have to have come up with the idea for mimics and then died for the idea to end up in your head, or...?" He looks like he does at least recognize this is an awkward question to ask.     "Do you at least know which part of the library might have the information we seek, or are we going to need to do a more extensive search?" 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' She remembered both incidents quite well enough--both the visits to the Library and everything that went on with Priscilla's painting. When it came to Crow, she didn't even pretend she understood it; she only knew she felt something /weird/ when it came to him and that divinity. Because dwelling on the full specter of what was going on here was going to get to her more than it already had been. Trying to equate things together... yeah, she didn't want to think on it right now. <"Simultaneous feels more likely,"> Kushiko remarks; she was disrupted fairly powerfully by the keening ... /thing/ at the end of it when they were ejected. <"We felt something when everything shifted the way it did. At least that's all we can call it. We lost Transference for a little, before restoring it once more."> Speaking of the Tenno and Transference, the figure itself that was here was the somewhat more gunslingery Mesa, cloak fluttering lightly from her shifting around a little bit. As to the knowledge, well. <"... maybe we should look into what we've been seeing him manifest. Isn't there some analogues, those paintings and what not? I could be remembering wrong."> 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' So here they are at the Library of Murdered Knowledge, Tomoe is in armour, and lets face it? When is she not wearing some semblance of armour after all? She seems to get Cord's issues with the computer here. Given the way this world is? The computer could indeed eat one'ssould. She looks to Enark for amoment then back to Kord. "Wait, crow went missing? I ran into a massive crow I wonder. It acted like it knew me..." She thinks about that for a moment before she starts to look around the Libary some more. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark scrunches his face up a bit and waggles his free hand in response to Kord. "The Library is a very large place, obviously, and I have not had the opportunity to read everything that is in it. Some things, like USB drives and floppy disks and cryptoplasma I simply didn't have any device capable of supporting. Just because everything that dies winds up somewhere does not mean it all winds up here." he tap-taps his desk, sending a bobble-head of one of the Popes bouncing around when his hand jostles it.     Enark nods solemnly to Staren. "He was on his own for a very long time, and he is... Stronger now. And more knowledgeable. It is likely that Crow can handle himself wherever he is. It is worrying, but hopefully when we return to Ariamis we will be able to confirm our Shadow's presence or not. It is odd that we keep having people go missing though. First Lady Carna, then Queen Priscilla, and now Crow... At this rate, eventually I too will go missing!" He slurps his coffee again, emptying the mug.     "...I really hope that doesn't happen." he mutters as he stands up from his desk. He shakes his head and addresses Staren's second question. "The concept of people already existed, as did the concept of automatons, robots, statues, and so forth. I devised the method to put it into action while trying to figure out how to make more people. But it was beyond my power. Any inanimate structure I can analyze, I can turn into a Mimic. I have mastered that quite thoroughly. But controlling them is another matter. I think infusing them with their own will was something I learned too well, while changing the subject's form I was too subpar at."     He stretches and turns towards the doors leading out into the library, once barred and barricade, now simply sealed with some magic wards. The Shrine of Light in the circular alcove right before the doors glows softly and soothingly as ever. "If I were to guess, I would say that if information on Lady Enion were considered restricted, it would be down below, in the flooded areas. For whatever reason, it became impassable while I was indisposed. That may, in fact, be tied to the flooding of the Temple of the Drowned, and that same city we seek information on." He shrugs. "It is really all I can suggest at the moment." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Kushiko's inquiry about Crow reminds Enark they have yet to discuss what happened at the God Forge with the others. As he heads towards the doors, and begins disabling wards, he says, "Well, while forging Carna's new blades at the God Forge, with the aid of Queen Priscilla, Sir Kord, and Crow, apparently some sleeping power was awakened, and we discerned that Crow is... Or WAS... The Lord of Silence known as 'Orc'. The first generation thereof. We know not why he is the way he is now, but since then, parts of that hidden past have been emerging more and more frequently, culminating with the recent event where I was severely injured. I am not certain where the transformation will stop. IF it will stop. But it is supremely dangerous to not only us but to Crow as well if too many people learn of his true identity. As we have seen, attempting to steal or trap him is 'a thing', and that may be tied to what power could be harvested by someone with sufficient knowledge. Queen Priscilla, Sir Kord, and Carna only found out recently. And I am not sure if Crow quite understands himself." He sighs, as he finishes with the glyphs.     The wood-panelled doors are easily pushed open after that. "If there is something tying Crow, or rather Orc, to Queen Priscilla's world, we will find out soon enough, I am sure. The giant crow you met, Lady Tomoe, might be a good lead. I actually suspected Lord Tharmas may have a connection, beyond the reproductions based upon the Book of Los, but I have no method of verifying that presently."     He then steps through the doors and back out into the gigantic library with all its branching corridors filled with books and writings of all kinds. He inhales the smell of books that saturates the air, smiling, but then growing serious as he begins keeping an eye out for trouble while approaching the large circular opening, lined with a railing, in the center of this particular area. "Down there is the flooded section. Let's see if anything has changed now that we have drained that sunken city." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "Ugh, great. I did not bring underwater weapons. Though my lasers will work in a pinch." Staren comments. "Is there any way to drain the Library?" They can't see him fiddling with the settings on his laser pistol wirelessly.     Now they learn something about Crow. "So our doubles are plotting to capture a Lord of Silence... Clearly, they have a plan for it."     Before walking into the library, Staren puts his helmet back on. Then he walks to the railing and looks down. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     And so Kord follows Enark into the rest of the library, having listened to the words exchanged about people going missing... he frowns behind his mask, turning to observe the round around him as if paranoid about someone swooping in at that very moment. He then turns to walk up to the railing without speaking a word, and hops up to stand on the railing itself, peering down, down, down...     And just pitches forward to drop down, his wings manifesting shortly as he flies downward at a relatively slow pace. He is very careful to check his corners, his scythe soon drawn from its holster to hold in one of his hands. Whatever is down here, he doesn't seem to care if it's a threat or not. He's just not all that knowledgeable about Earth fiction and mythology, which is both a boon and a curse. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' <"That helps... we had been wondering, but we didn't want to press. Or more properly, it's never been a good time to ask, 'oh hey why are you glowin'?'"> Mesa-Kushiko shrugs once, before moving about towards their point of focus for exploration. <"If anything still remains, waterwise, we have ways to traverse it."> Though she doubts they will. <"And if nothing changed, I'm going to be annoyed,"> she adds, almost tartly when it gets right down to it. She deftly unslings a pair of elegant looking machine pistols--if said machine pistols had part of their ammo fed from a sensual curve of ruthenium-gilded material from above. She helps herself up and over, and as she starts to fall fast--she doesn't. She doesn't because she simply exerts some bizarre control, gravity lessening it's grip. The edge of a railing she'll use to stop completely, before letting herself fall again, sortof covering Kord, whom she lets go down faster. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe is worried about Crowbut he can take care of himself. She looks at Enark for a moment. "I'm startingto wonder if everyone involved here might be in someone's list. If they cxould get Priscilla...I'm pretty damn scared of that." She notes before keeping an eye out for trouble. "This is true, it seems a lot of worlds are connected I mean someone here /saw/ me and the rest of the off worlders here coming long before I was born or my world unified." She notes but she also think about the book tht was mnreniuoned there's not much time ot think on that as she moves ahead and she just kind of sighs at the idea of the Mimics in flood water. "This is going to be one od those days." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark does not have a method to descend on his own, so hopefully Staren is able to assist with that. The Blue Scholar, after verifying the decreased water levels, actually seemed to expect to go find some stairs or an elevator down, but with Kord and Kushiko just jumping down a vertical shaft into deep darkness and who knows what else, they may fall behind. Oh, and Tomoe. Can she fly? Enark doesn't recall. "Well... There should be a lift around here somewhere. If all else fails, we can meet them below." Unless another option is provided, he leads the way to said lift, like an iron cage on a chain, and they ride down. If flying or something is an option, they can do that instead.     As at least Kord and Kushiko descend, they pass by floor after floor of books, bannisters, and balconies. For the initial few dozen floors, though the areas beyond the central shaft are poorly lit, the parts nearest the hole at least have some visibility to them. Book shelves, racks of scrolls, and so on, all wet and running with flood waters in rivulets that join together into miniature water falls as each expansive floor very slowly drains.     It does not appear any materials are damaged if they examine them, thankfully, so all this knowledge will not be lost by exposure to environmental factors. However, the further down they go, the darker it becomes. The light shining down from hanging lamps and ceiling fixtures high above, almost like sunlike shining down into ancient ruins from a hole in the roof, become filtered more and more by the depths, taking on a bluish tinge, and then fading to gray, and then black.     And then, somehow, as their descent takes them to a point where the lights barely reach at all, the darkness becomes blue as well. Or maybe there's some ambient light? The floors here are more waterlogged than those above, and continuing to go down may result in plunging into murky waters with who-knows-what-in-them. This may be the place where they should stop and begin looking. Or wait for their resident Blue Scholar to join them.     Though in the blue-tinged shadows here, noises that might not be just water and the settling of soaked documents sometimes can be heard. Almost like... Something flat and flexible slapping against stone. But it's very quiet, and rarely repeats. Maybe it's nothing. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Down they go! Down, down, down into darkness (a light comes on from Staren's helmet). Eventually they reach a point where there's still water. After setting Enark down, Staren places LED lights around the railing, to illuminate the immediate area and also make it easier to spot when they're finding their way back. "Well... I guess not being attacked yet is a good sign..." He fiddles with his weapons and shoulder straps so that he can either ready the rifle or, in a hurry, draw one of his SMGs.     After hearing that eerie slapping sound, he sticks microphones to opposite sides of the railing to try and triangulate its location.     Only after all that preparation does he begin looking at some of the nearest books. "Is there any organization to this place, or do we have to check /every book/ to make sure we don't pass it?" 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' <"... we do not think we're alone in either event,"> Kushiko remarks in that odd little way of hers. Twin beams of light are cast out from each of her weapons, with a third from just around the 'collarbone' of the Warframe. <"At least, not until we are certain of it by careful searching,"> she adds. Better to be wary all the same. <"... will any of this be useful?"> she wonders aloud, gesturing to the water-logged books, flipping one of her guns to her hip to point out the grossly waterlogged aspect of some of them. <"Or even be restorable?"> She looks--so to speak--back to Enark since Staren was able to bring him down; Mesa is not good at multiperson transport like Nova is. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe make sure the water levels are down as she gets ready to decend with the rest of the party, she cna fly if she's got enough light evne if not she's got enough tim to keep them from going splat at the end. She will move to help though she won't have too much toruble carrying anyone she needs to but with the light she will not have /very/ long to fly before her own wings will no longer unction she's going to end up using them like a break at the end of a jump. She's thankfully very agile too so it doesn't end up in disaster as they get down. "Let's hope there is or we're going to have to dig through all of this worold's information humans have ever had..." 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord is, by no means, an expert on libraries. He tends to avoid them whenever he can because his barely functional literacy (in his opinion) is a point of extreme embarrassment for him. Which is why it takes him a moment during his descent to remember he's looking for books that explain the Drowned City, and that he should probably be looking for books with such a title. So he pauses once he reaches a region of the library where it feels like they might be in the right place. Everything is blue, blue is associated with water, and so he tries to find a reference point by coming to a landing and browsing shelves, very careful to hover around major streams of water as he investigates. If he doesn't find anything of value, he moves on, either descending or going around the inside edge of the library.     Kord is very mindful of magic nonsense flying at him at odd angles this time. Anything icy could seriously ruin his whole week. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Staren provides illumination. Where it alights, the blue tinge to the darkness is blotted out, turning the surroundings back into just blackness contrasted with artificial glow. But beyond its reach, deep in the stacks, and down twisting corridors lined with tomes, scrolls, and who-knows-what-else, hints of the blue hue can be glimpsed, indicating there is potentially something in the air, or some other ambient lighting that is blotted out when other light sources are available. The former possibility is probably not the most appealing, because it means that whether they can see it or not, they might be breathing something pretty not-great.     Anyone with knowledge of chemistry who runs through a mental list of what kind of gasses or substances would turn the air blue at this elevation is probably better off not going through such a list. On the other hand, it's Lumiere, so it's obvious that conventional physical laws don't always apply. Case-in-point: This very tower.     As the catboy inventor places down Enark and sets about affixing additional lights around the area, the Blue Scholar pauses and brushes his robes off a bit as he looks around the rows of books. This used to be like home to him. The ache of familiarity distorted is apparent in his features as he scans around. "I can find what we seek, as long as I am free to conduct the search. Given enough time, anyone with a clear idea of what they are looking for would find it, but the attunement to the Library is the unique gift given to us by Lord Tharmas. I can find what we seek quicker than any mundane search would, with or without knowing what precisely to look for."     He breaks off as he hears that not-entirely-distant sound in the darkness beyond the reach of their lights, and moves a bit closer to Kushiko, nodding in agreement. He keeps an eye on where the laser sights land for a few moments before shaking himself and prioritizing getting what they are after and getting out. "Though one thing I can say with certainty," he voices quietly. "It goes even faster when multiple people seek the same information. That is why there was an Order instead of a lone librarian. Among other reasons. Do not concern yourself with the condition of the information. It would take vastly more than water, fire, bullets, or blades to actually harm any part of the structure."     As he feels over the shelves, attuning himself to the Library, he hastens to add on for Staren's sake, "Although I should note that setting off explosives in a confined space continues to be hazardous to our own health."     With Kord assisting in tracking down what they seek, Staren trying to track down the source of the sounds, and Kushiko standing watch, it falls to Tomoe to stand guard over Enark himself as he begins to pusher further and further into the darkness, though at least this time being mindful of his own well-being and ensuring the group is near him at all times. Despite his lack of blood circulation, lack of need to breathe, and so on, the cold and damp down here have him shivering. Or maybe that's fear at being in a twisted version of a place once-familiar, and now with lurking intruders within. He mutters near-inaudibly to himself as he goes along, reading off titles, making mental notations, or maybe speaking to the Library itself. The group is gradually working away from the partially-submerged portion of the central shaft, that will require more to reduce the flooding, it seems, than draining a drowned city.     According to Staren's investigations, the source of that sound is four rows over from their current position, and seems to be stopped. Four rows of these book shelves is the same as having four walls between them, though where gaps between where one book shelf ends and another begins, passages are created, forming a maze of branching paths, wet books and puddles, and darkness wherever they do not bring their own lighting.     Whatever the source of the wet slapping sound was, it is presently immobile. Enark seems more bothered by that than when they could 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark seems more bothered by that than when they could hear it, as now the only sound is their own movements, their own breathing, their own devices and speech, and the ever-present pattering of water dripping everywhere, or pouring down in the now-distant central shaft to the murky pool that obstructed further descent (at least for those who don't have aquatic abilities). 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord can deal with silence. He doesn't make noise, even his own breathing so quiet that it may as well not be there, and he slinks between the stacks and vanishes if no one is keeping track of him. He moves with his mastery over flight to seek out the source of the sound that Staren was tracking earlier, having grown disinterested in that and more interested in whether there's something in here he can murder. He is, after all, a warrior by default. If it can sense his approach in the first place, it would be an incredible threat to Enark as well, and he just confessed a valuable skill they need for finding anything important in this place.     Kord keeps his priorities in mind as his scythe is held in both hands and he flits through the blue-tinted air in near utter silence, any sound he could make overpowered by the others and the constant dripping of water. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     So now Staren knows where it is ? sort of ? and it?s not moving. He?d go and look, if it were mroe direct, but he doesn?t trust that space isn?t warped here and that sounds like a good way to get lost. So instead he stays in touch with his sensors, watching for any signs of movement.     Staren rolls his eyes at Enark?s explanation. Of /course/ there?s a. mysterious power that can find its way to the right book, and of course the Multiverse is too full of stuff like that for him to be able to afford time to understand it. So he follows Tomoe and Enark as additional protection, occasionally stopping just long enough to glance at some book titles.     He half expects to find a book titled ?Everything Staren Wants To Know? or ?Secrets of the Multiverse? and then it turns out to be water damaged and illegible. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Despite a lack of things jumping out at her, and the fact that she too, isn't so much into direct 'research' as much as she could be simply collecting information for others to peruse, so she'll do something else, though not directly overwatch Tomoe and Enark directly. No, given her systems, she figures if nothing else she can probably scan some of the tomes, intake the information and let Ordis peruse through it remotely. You know, to search for the keywords and the like that they're already searching for, at least once it reaches a kind of critical mass that's not just 'oh hey, have this single mention that has nothing to do with what you need'. That, and she can keep looking around. So to speak. No eyes and all. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' The party is able to get down without losing anyone else. She only has basic highschool chemistry but that's jut enough to know fire might not be wise, given the nature of decay related things tend to not react well to fire. She keeps watch over Enark as they keep pushing further in to this place that hold enough information to drive a single person mad should they somehow aquire it all. "The book in question may want to be found." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     As Kord makes his way through the shadows towards the last place the source of that sound was heard, Enark, Kushiko, and Staren combine their efforts to search for what they seek. Tomoe is on look-out, but in the darkness, and with only the lights they brought with them, they can only be thankful that the aisles are so narrow, leaving few places for something to hide. While many of the items on the shelves aren't labelled at all, giving no hint of what they have in them unless actually physically examined, Enark seems to have an idea of where to go, and when he pulls a book off the shelf to start looking it over, he seems excited by the discovery.     He flips quickly through the pages, reading and scanning for information, and reporting what he founds. "This is about the Emanations. The female aspects of each of the original Lords of Silence. That explains why some legends speak of there being eight, while others say four. There were four Lords of Silence, but each possessed a duality: male and female. I knew of Lord Tharmas's Emanation, but was unaware the others had them as well. Let's see here..."     He reads through the book, scanning for more details. "Enion, Emanation of Lord Tharmas. Enitharmon, Emanation of Los. Vala, Emanation of Luvah... Luvah? Who in blazes is Luvah?" he mutters to himself. "Ahanaia, Emanatio nof Urizen... And... Jerusalem, Emanation of Albion? Why is she named after..." he continues interrupting his reading to mutter commentary.     As Kord comes ever closer to the creature, the sound again resumes. Much closer to him now. The wet slapping of something flexible but solid, impact moist ground, or itself being wet. It seems to be moving nearer him, though whether it is actually aware or simply being drawn by the sound of Enark's voice, is hard to say. But very shortly, he should be in the same aisle as it when he finds the opening between the stacks that leads into it.     In the air, though not visible in the light provided, there is definitely something. Because the light does not carry as far as it would otherwise. Some particular matter, perhaps, or some mystical presence that limits how far light can penetrate.     Enark puts the book back, apparently determining this is not what they seek, and continues searching. Kushiko's scanning turns up two leads. A book called, 'Jerusalem: The Emanation of the Giant Albion', as well as one labelled, 'Temperospatial Claudications, Sub-Juncture 827, Pathway 2, First Chime: R'lyeh Glyph'. The second seems quite obviously relevant to their interets, though the first might have some clues as well. The former is straight ahead. The latter is in the next aisle.     And without reaching the next gap between shelves, seeing what lies in that narrow, darkened passage is difficult for those with eyes. Down here, thanks to whatever is in the air, unless a light is shone directly on something, the surroundings of the 'cone' of light are as pitch, and this effect becomes more pronounced the deeper they go. Seeing things up close still works fine. But at a distance, they are moving blind. Having at least one person who isn't impeded by that is thus invaluable.     Staren may pick up something as well, as he scans the book titles. A book that radiates pinpricks of darkness just to look at. It is utterly black and non-reflective, almost a book-shaped hole in the world than an actual object. It stings to look upon, let alone touch. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Darkness: Staren     It also seems to be whispering to him. Him personally, though the words are indistinct.     Darkness: Kord     The familiar voices of the Darkness whisper in Kord's ear to beware. That something comes from deep below.     Darkness: Kushiko     The sound of water and the panic of crushing darkness and drowning in the deeps teases at the edges of Kushiko's senses. She herself, on the other end of her connection. A wordless warning, perhaps.     Darkness: Tomoe     An insistent anxiousness from outside of Tomoe herself presses upon her. It is extremely vague, but perhaps enough to put her even more on alert than she already is. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Dark places where few dare to traverse; this is not something known to Kushiko but that does not make her any less wary. No, a practiced concern, a way to work through all of this--though it does remind her of similar, hellish conditions in other times--this is different. It's enough to give pause, give reason to focus her unusual senses; after all, Warframes themselves? Do not have eyes. She sees through the Void that she permeates the Warframe with, the varying sensors and the like useful to others who watch, but it's all her. Sight beyond sight, yet with what she's feeling, she turns on the lights on her weapons, and focuses those lights outward. The warning prickle--too familiar. Too wrong, given it teases at the /her/. It's enough to put her on full alert, gesturing with both guns to cast a out a ribbon of light that begins to orbit her. She's expecting trouble; so naturally a preliminary buff wouldn't be a bad idea, though it's supernatural source of light may help as she works to get the book closest to her--carefully--so as to scan it's contents and then stow it into a foldspace. But as soon as she's done that, she's got her guns out and focused on the vague sense of direction from where that warning originated from in the Dark, before advancing towards the next aisle. May as well provoke this... thing. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord doesn't stop. His weapon is ready to fight something in the dark back there behind the shelves, his heart thumps in his chest, his eyes widen and his wings flex and flap as he reaches the opening in the shelves and rounds the corner. He can hear it, and it's clearly right HERE, so close, and with their luck it could easily be a creature that wants to eat one or all of them. And he really cannot afford to let Enark get attacked again. He makes sure to make the shadows extra oppressive so only the most sightless predator would be able to act, just to reinforce his advantage in the dark.     When he spots whatever he spots, there is a very loud WHUMPF behind that shelving. Kord promptly projects an array of solid shadow to try to pin the creature against a nearby wall, covering its mouth in case it makes some kind of noise or screams. He is solely trying to restrain it, hoping that his profound power over darkness allows him some time to study what he's seen. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     A mysterious dark book... and he can feel it whispering to him...     Well, it's certainly got Staren's attention! He reaches out to it... Not to READ it, but to stick it in a bag and take home and examine in a secure room after consulting Ainsley about possible hazards and security measures to take.     The sudden pain on contact, even as gentle as it is, makes him jerk his arm back in surprise and shocks him to his senses. He has a book expert RIGHT HERE! "Enark? Have you ever heard of a book made of pure blackness that whispers to people?" 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe is wary is on her guard and she know it's getting pretty dark she's going to chat a spell for a moment causing a sphere of liught to hover at her shoulders to help light the way or try to. She finds even with the light it's hard to see, it would be impossible without it, she feels on edge now something isn't right and she's very much alert now she's looking around expecting trouble. She was going to check for books, but that now isn't in the cards. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark is looking around nervously as the situation starts to turn grim. Just when it was looking up, too, thanks to Kushiko locating likely-sounding texts! He starts to answer Staren's question, while looking warily at the object on the shelf that 'bit' Staren's hand. "Black Books are an anomaly. They come into existence when something exists within the realm of human knowledge, but no human has yet learned of--" but then the warnings come, to everyone except Enark apparently, and he shuts his yap.     tWhen Kushiko dumps the nearest book into her claudication/foldpsace, the exact sort of thing the other book in the next aisle mentioned, it begins to read itself, in a deep voice, speaking... Angry or aggressive-sounding German (is there any other kind)?     "There is a Void, outside of Existence, which if enterd into.     Englobes itself & becomes a Womb: such was Albion's Couch.     A pleasant Shadow of Repose calld Albion's lovely Land.     His Sublime & Pathos become Two Rocks fixd in the Earth     His Reason his Spectrous Power, covers them above.     Jerusalem, his Emanation, is a Stone laying beneath.     O, behold the Vision of Albion     'Half-Friendship is the bitterest Enmity, said Los     As he enterd the Door of Death for Albion's sake, Inspired.     'The long sufferings of God are not forever. There is a Judgment.     Every Thing has its Vermin, O Spectre of the Sleeping Dead!'"     The sound definitely isn't doing them any favors in the stealth department, but at least it appears to end there.     Enark decides to do what Kord suggests and grab whatever he can in case they have to flee in a hurry. He ducks into the next aisle, following along after Tomoe's ball of light that leads the way.     Kord sneaks up behind the creature. It isn't facing him when he sees it. It is hunched, its shape vaguely recalling a human's, but a twisted mockery of such. It is wet, with protrusions from its scaled flesh (fins?), and what might be webbed feet and hands. Its rattling, labored breaths, like a fish trying to breathe out of water, are quiet, loathesome gulping noises, but Kord is close enough to pick them up. Others might not notice them until it is too late.     Just as Kushiko prepares her weapons, and Tomoe's light ball reaches the book on claudications, and Enark reaches for said book in turn, disaster strikes. Something he never would have seen or heard if not for Tomoe's magic emerges from the darkness in a ghastly, nightmarish surge, all monochrome hues in the dimness.     https://tinyurl.com/yc2dzrx7     Its inhuman jaws spread wide enough to engulf the Blue Scholar's entire upper body while he stares in horror. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The thing that Kord seizes in his shadows struggles, but can not break free. However, it is certainly not going to be happy if it is released, and is highly unlikely to NOT be hostile now. A steady rumbling or bubbling sound emerges from behind the group, but as Kord stayed further behind than the others, he is the one closest to hearing. Somethings comes from below. Maybe more of these... Things. Maybe something worse. But it might very well cut off their escape route if they don't make it back in time.     Time to choose what's most important. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Time to make a decision indeed. On the one hand however, Kushiko herself is incredibly swift, even though she almost hisses in that weird displaced sense of vocal presence she has. She's recording it, by the nature of her aspect, but she's going to direct her light--her weapons--in the direction of the other book. And haul ass over there to grab the book--oh, well. The Deep One is attacking Enark. This is not even remotely good at all. Decision is made, and it doesn't even take a second for it. She gives her weapons a quick twirl, looking /about/ ready to shoot with the AkStilletos, but the flip is to cause the weapons to blip into light as the longbarrels/tonfa looking thing on her forearms flip into the place previously held by the guns. In this, her hands provide the remainder of the barrel and hammer as she quickly remarks, <"Get Enark and the book clear!"> Because when she fires, there's not a single shot that won't go towards the Deep One, but there's a supernatural sortof presence she now exudes. The Regulators, empowered by her Peacemaker ability, and she just keeps firing. Given the fact those guns are part of her, she is the weapon. Fire with one's heart might be a good point to compare. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord grimaces at the horrific fish beast's nature as it thrashes in his hold. The Count decides that, instead of fighting the creature, he's gonna rudely throw it as hard as he can by picking it up by the ankle and chucking it away from him, likely to send it cartwheeling through the air and smashing into the floor face-first. That might slow it down enough for him to flap his wings and bolt, heading back to the others. Once he reaches them, he doesn't pause to wait for anymore words to be shouted. He simply grabs Enark around the middle, and takes off at high speed.     He is, of course, weighed down by carrying someone, but he tries to move back up, up, up and away from the blue-tinted region so soaked with water. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe looks at the fish beast she feels a good deal of horrorn she moves to to he best to cover her allies as they attempt to get going to vover everyone pulling back but well how do you cover vs something big enough to devour you whole. She will fire a few brif light spells at the thing but she gets the idea she may be at fault fot this. "GET THE BOOK AND WE NEED TO GET OUT" If needed she's going to be coving eveyrone else falling back but it is indeed time to go. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     So, the black book is not dead knowledge, but knowledge that never got to live in the first place -- metaphorically. Staren considers how to pick it up without touching it, but while he's thinking about it, there's noise in the next aisle -- and not from any of them. The whatever-it-is is close! Before he can react to that though, there's the sound of Kushiko opening fire. He rushes around to the next aisle to open up with his beam cannons on the deep one. He's not sure what it's done to Enark that's holding him in place and preventing spellcasting -- hopefully they can undo it. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Kushiko's void-charged bullets slam into the scaly horror. Tough skin like overlapping armor plates nonetheless produces bursts of cold, dark-red blood and horrific shrieks of pain that are all the more horrific for the fact that despite the inhuman appearance of the one producing them, the screams are NOT devoid of a human element. Enark manages to avoid his fate thanks to the time bought, the monster releasing its clawed grip on his shoulders just as Kord comes zipping in, navigating the paths he took to hunt the other fish-creature, after deciding that struggle was not worth as much as the life of an ally.     The Blue Scholar is seized and pulled away, carried back towards the exit on wings of shadow, as Staren lights up the darkened, water-dripping library with his plasma cannon, making the fishman glow superluminous from inside as his insides catch fire from the intense heat, and then release a cloud of steaming vapor from his torso, mouth, fishy ears, and even his eye sockets.     The Deep One collapses, but in the light produced by Staren's cannon, the nightmare vision of dozens of other goggling, hostile, fish eyed figured marching towards them up the aisle, and crowding in from the next, is revealed.     Tomoe may well have to cover their retreat, but not if it means standing and fighting. They need to go. The sound of the water filling the lower reaches of the Library bubbling and churning as something large and terrible rises from below continues to grow in volume, signifying that time runs short. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     On the bright side: The Deep One goes down pretty quickly!     Unfortunately, the bright side illuminates that there are many more where that Deep One came from. He could get out the serious explosives, but he doesn't want to damage the library...     Ah. There's an idea!     <"Tomoe! Get back around the corner!"> He urges the Salamander back before reaching into his bag and throwing a small object at the horde. The dazzler detects lenses, eyes, and the like and shines blinding lights at them. Hopefully it will distract them long enough for everyone to escape! Staren doesn't wait to see if it works, he just runs. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Tomoe might be a good person to cover their escape, but Kushiko, particularly with Mesa here isn't a slouch either; plus if she actually had to, she could and would sacrifice the frame in order to ensure their escape. That being said, she quickly disengages her Peacemaker aspect, the Regulators unlocking and the AkStilettos appearing with a flash back into her hands once more. Since it's been too much time, she gestures, spinning the guns and causing a renewed focus of orbiting light--her 'Shooting Gallery' power, which immediately results in a copy of it jumping to Staren, which will augment his own shooting abilities a bit. It'll jump from person to person, like an energy lasso. And quite possibly do a bit of blinding as well, given that while the Deep Ones have no guns to jam, the act of trying to, well. The Void's funny this way. Nonetheles, she's moving to work to cover the escape because of her unique position, further augmenting her durability, layering her shields but staying mobile, popping off normal (if heavily corrosive and fire-imbued) bullets from her twinlinked guns. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord doesn't stop and think, or gawk at anything that impedes his path to the open space that leads up and out of this drenched hellhole. He picks up speed once he has the space to do so, the acceleration likely to be absolutely harrowing to the poor scholar he is carrying around. The Count doesn't worry about the others overly much, instead focusing on the priority here, just the person that knows the most about this place out of anyone they have spoken to so far.     "I hope you cannot vomit," he murmurs. Yeah, Kord isn't great at making the ride comfortable for other people. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe gets the idea even as Staren calls at her to run She turns to disengage and she's going to get the hell out of here she knows more are comming and staying behind would be a bad idea the large woman hauls tail to do what Staren has wisely suggested and she gets the hell around the corner as fast as she can move. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     As everyone gets out of there, the combination of blinding lights on eyes equipped for visiomn in deep, dark waters, have some difficulty dealing with the repeated changes in light levels between both Staren and Kushiko. Thankfully, whatever else they may be, they don't appear to be very fast, so there is little need to shoot at anything on their way out. Also, due to their expedience in escaping, they all manage to make it back to the central shaft they descended down originally, and whether under their own power, or with the aid of others, they manage to ascend back up to where they started. But anyone who happens to look down at the seething pool of water below before their view of it is cut off will see yet another vision of nightmares to add to the many accumulated within Lumiere so far.     An eye. Just a giant, bulging, glowing yellow eye, right below the waterline. It fills the entire core of the tower down there. If there's anything attached to it, how it squeezed itself in there if so, WHY there's a giant eye down there, all of that is unknown presently. But it tracks their movements the whole way up. And then it blinks horizontally, lids sliding closed from either side around its vertical pupil. That's the last any would see of it for now.     Because from here on out, it's time to just go back to the study and rest... And eventually start perusing what they recovered.     Though now they have fish people to worry about. Whenever they return to the Temple of the Drowned, they are going to be in for some interesting times. 
}}

5516/Layers

2018-02-02T04:02:13Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/10/13 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=Carna has been tracked down to a place tied to the myth of Atlantis... In an area once sealed off by an ugly..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/10/13
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=Carna has been tracked down to a place tied to the myth of Atlantis... In an area once sealed off by an ugly black mold and deep, black waters.
|Cast of Characters=974, 70, 954, 964, 6, 42, 513
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The watery depths were observed previously while exploring the Vanquisher's Nest in search of the Marble Guardian that once dwelled here, tormenting Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table with whispers of despair for thousands of years or longer. A creeping black mold-like substance or organism was observed covering the walls, toxic in the extreme by Kushiko's analysis. But down in those dark waters, a towering statue much like the one found in the Grand Gallery within the Library of Murdered Knowledge, assumed to have been a reproduction of the statues of Priscilla's mother, but now found here, outside of that environment, was seen.     There were subtle differences in both cases, but the ones here are more pronounced. Less of the face is visible, more of the head shrouded in a hood. The figures are similar in proportions, but with less of the face to compare against, it's hard to say who she is supposed to be.     But what is clear is that there is a lot of water, and that isn't an environment they want to go swimming in. Even from up here, the murky depths look chilling and likely to conceal all manner of horrors.     Somehow, they need to drain the temple enough to enter. Having made their way here through the dungeon, beneath the Stone Devils' headquarters, Enark suggested they first inspect the chamber where the Chains of the Dusk Sun once resided, in case it might yield any clues. Slaying the Marble Guardian resulted in the reservoirs of blood filling in the God Forge. Maybe there are other connections as yet unseen.     Crow stays close to everyone, not going off to explore as might be more common. The Shadow also continues to be much quieter than usual. At present, unless someone has a better idea, the crew should be on their way down stairs that once led to a creature that radiated despair, but is now simply a large empty chamber with grates in the floor that no longer serve a purpose without a ball of chains bleeding into them. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla remembers this place. After all, she had been here when the Marble Guardian had perished. She had hacked through it with her scythe, all the way through its iron shell and down to its hateful, beating heart, and she had claimed its soul. She had forged it alongside Kord into the sword Carna now wields as her primary blade, and taken some solemn pleasure in seeing it beaten into the hot metal of the godforge, never to trouble another again.     What's actually left in this room, though, is kind of up for debate. At the time, she'd been knee deep in boiling supernatural blood while stuck navigating a jungle of giant chains, so she hadn't gotten a good look around. That said, showing up at the empty boss room, it doesn't look like there was too terribly much to get a look at in the first place. She'll want to give it one look around, peering down grates, pushing on suspect-looking stones, and yanking on any remaining chains, but Priscilla doesn't have her hopes up. There were tons of doors and weird noises they had passed on the way here.     The only thing that particularly stands out about her search right now, is that she carries it out with identically matching golden eyes. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord does something unusual. He reaches down to physically pick Crow up in his arms. He does this with no prompting, and maintains the shadow's physical form the whole way down the stairs to the area the first Marble Guardian was held at. He does not do this out of affection, or concern, but out of a strange protective instinct. This is His shadow, and he has grown attached to its presence in a way that he would never admit is something more than a pragmatic way. Its godly traits might prove useful, etc.     He carries Crow the way one might carry a child. This can be easily misconstrued.     "It can't be a lever, could it?" he asks, sounding rhetorical. "... what machine is used to drain water?"     He actively searches for anything obvious on their way down. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Interestingly enough, should the need to traverse water by one of them come up, Kushiko has the means. How the Archwing unit gets to her is something no one here should question, but it's an available. <"That's almost as toxic Infested can be,"> she muses aloud with regards to the mold and the system analysis of it by her Warframe's systems. The Warframe in this case, being Mesa, the gunslinger. The sense of deja vu not withstanding when it came to certain things as they related to the Library besides, she regards the stairs for a few moments, addings, <"If it's necessary I can augment and go into the water, though I'm not sure even my systems and Transference will let me see down there, to say nothing of how inhospitable it is. And that's with my Archwing which is designed for space and other really bad places."> Which irritates her a little, by the way of her tone. She remembered it well enough, so hopefully they could find something down here. Kord's remark gets a comment, <"Could be, or could be that even if there is a lever or mechanism, it might be damaged or jammed."> 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe also recalled this place and the fight that was had here, she also recalls Seifer and everyone else who went there. She didn't wnat to come back, but they had little choice. Her memories of the place where not good ones. Still they had work to do and she notices how tense Crow is as well. She keeps a bit of an eye on him and conjurs a small sphere of light to flot by her head as she moved forward. "Didn't think I'd have to come back here. So lets see what we can find down here. If it is damaged or jammed we should be able to do something about something like that hopefully Kushiko. Trust me Staren's plan is the last resort as far as I'm concerned." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren could survive underwater inside his armor, but he's not so good at maneuvering and fighting, so draining the area is the superior option if at all plausible.     While others look around, he sprays nanomachines on every surface in the room, letting them find even the tiniest cracks that might lead to mechanisms or passageways behind the walls. Given their size they're a bit slow, though, so he's left to wait for them to do their thing. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "Machines that drain water. Uhhhh.... I've seen big screws powered by windmills." Finna offers vaguely to Kord as she hops back and forth from one perch to another amongst the group.     Probably just to annoy the shit out of Kushiko and Priscilla, because one could swear at times that the fox is rather Cheshire Cat-like, seeming to vanish when one's attention wanes and popping up somewhere else with no idea how she crossed the intervening space.     It causes the mind to do plenty of double-takes and doubt the eyes.     But she settles down to plodding alongside Staren for some reason or another.     "Might be a wall or a gate or something we can open. Floodgates... what was the word for it... a dam?" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark pauses, hands on his hips. "Peacemaker Longita did not inform us of what the method for draining the temple was. It might be a hidden lever of some kind, yes. Sir Staren, do let us know if your hairspray reveals anything. Infrared lasers or something."     Crow, held by Kord and linked to his shadow in order to retain contact with another source of such, practically drips and flows down to the ground from its position, such is the looseness with which it holds itself. "Are lasers likely in an ancient dungeon?"     Enark shrugs self-consciously. "I have no idea. We have computers in Final Destination. Why not lasers here? I do not feel it is untoward to suggest that Lumiere is a very strange place." He waves a hand to dismiss the matter and says, "I agree, Lady Kushiko. Diving into the temple, given the warning we were given, and your prior analysis, does seem dangerous even for you. Whatever that mold is., I do not wish to determine through experimentation whether it can affect one of your frames."     As Priscilla pokes and prods at things, Crow peers around, and then asks, "Hey, Miss Priscilla, can you stand in the center of the dungeon? Yeah, right there." A limp shadowy appendage gestures at the spot directly below where the giant ball of chains used to be. Then the appendage divides into dozens of other tendrils that go to the walls, merging into the stone, seeping into the cracks, and carrying Staren's nano machines deeper into the structure.     A golden light, pale and bright at the same time, flows throughout the suddenly pure-black chamber, tracing a circuit-like pattern over everything that gathers together in the middle, reflecting the light that Tomoe provides, and a concealed panel in the floor. The intricate hidden pattern is not dissimilar from the one that covered the platform at the God Forge. "This probably isn't how it was supposed to be done, but I want to find Miss Carna soon. I don't want anyone else to get hurt."     Enark frowns, not in disapproval, but in thought. Then he looks to Priscilla, to see if standing in the center of the room does anything (it will make the panel in the floor flip over to reveal a large lever, the pulling of which will result in rumbling and the thunderous sound of huge volumes of water flowing. Perhaps Finna's guess was accurate!). "...Were both of your eyes always gold, Lady Priscilla?" 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla aborts taking 20 on her search check. Taking 20 sucks and takes forever, and Crow apparently has a better idea. Her abilities are suited to searching without being found, rather than searching expediently and efficiently, such as in the case of some of the others.     Of course, this is Lumiere. No matter how pretty and blatantly significant the activation mechanism is, she's not standing on a highlighted panel unarmed. Priscilla has the Lifehunt Scythe rested in the crook of her arm and braced over her shoulder before she even puts her toes on it, and hesitantly at that, taking a good while to look straight upwards, as if expecting the Marble Guardian to suddenly reappear. When it's only a lever, she makes double sure to check for apertures darts or arrows (or lasers) could fire out of before pulling it with all necessary strength. Being invisible doesn't really help when a trap is just rigged to dumb-fire on a certain location.     "For a very long time, yes." Priscilla says to Enark, genuinely a little surprised that anyone had noticed, and suddenly wondering how off-putting the mismatch secretly was. "Consider it a return to form. A conscious choice that thou needn't be worried of." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren blinks. Woah, when did Enark become Snark? Though uncalled for, he's kind of impressed all the same. "I'm deploying machines too small to see -- they're checking for any little cracks that might lead to hidden passages or mechanisms."     And then Crow Does Something. And when they flip the revealed lever, they hear water moving. "Sheesh... I really didn't think there'd just be a convenient 'drain the water' lever in a room we'd already been to..." 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' If Finna really wants to play the game of 'fucking with the senses', the Tenno could genuinely and probably would make the Exalt regret it. That said, she doesn't seem in any sense of being perturbed by Finna's little antics. As if to make a point, there's an instance where she herself seems to not really come off as 'there', before resuming a normal path, though her attention is somewhat lightly painted towards Priscilla as well. Gold was something that's been gradually more associated with the Halfbreed, but now... hrm. Still, it didn't seem particularly polite to ask here and now, though the phantom 'eye' of Kushiko's seems to fall briefly on her with the others asking. But that's brief, and in passing: what needs doing is finding and simply searching for something that looks like it's part of a mechanism maybe--at least, she was looking. When things get completely lit up like they do, she starts inspecting things a bit more directly until that lever shows up for pulling. <"We noticed ourselves, but did not feel it necessary to draw attention, at least not here while we search."> Kushiko admits when it comes to Priscilla's answer. Mesa unholsters a pair of sleek-looking sidearms, like elegant submachine guns of some kind as she gives both of them a light twirl as she stalks around the area a little bit, half-expecting some trouble to emerge, and preferring to be ready. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe enter sthe chamber with everyone else she's been keeping an eye on Enark and nods. "You make a good point given even ideas seem to go here when they die." She looks back to Priscilla dfor a moment thand then to Kushiko. Before she takes a look again to the patterns her light spell ios kept up as she seems to be of aid. "I"m worried too about her, if she's lost her journal too ... it could be really bad." At the mention of Priscilla's eyes she pauses and take sa look she can't find herself recalling it one way or another which does bother her. "I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, Staren." 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna's had enough of a helping of Priscilla's weird eyes to not want to ask. Instead the fox noses all around the room, sniffing for anything weird or out of place.     She isn't the first to find the oddity though! Crow suddenly getting decisive draws her eyes to watch what's going on and...     A lever...     "Too easy! Suspiciously easy!" The fox is skeptical of this! 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark raises his hands in surrender to Priscilla and Kushiko. "My apologies for mentioning. You are right. There are more pressing matters to attend to." He focuses on Staren's explanation. "Ah! Ah-hah! It has been so long since I've dealt with such technology I forgot it existed. Yes, good idea. And with Crow using them to analyze the room just now..." He nods to himself sagely as he watches the room turn into a giant puzzle box. He likes solving puzzles, but not in this kind of situation. He'lls accept a cheat if it means getting out of here that much sooner.     Following the successful pulling of the lever without incident aside from the apparent draining of the temple, the crew is able to make their way back up to the stairs and to where they found the entrance originally. Stairs lead down from the hall within the dungeon. Marble steps, still damp with the fetid waters that have engulfed them for ages. The mold-like substance still coats the walls but the water it floated in is now at a much reduced level.     Descending takes some time, and they pass by archways and other stairs leading other places. Darkened passages, abrupt ledges, with the pattern of water reflected on the walls when light happens to shine upon it.     The statue of the woman who is not-quite-Gwynevere looks even less like her from down here, where they can look up into her face beneath the hood.     The large worship chamber the statue stands on one side of seems free of enemies or traps, always a reason to worry in Lumiere, but as of yet, nothing has leapt out of them or attacked them. But over one of the ledges, one of the staircases leading 'outside' into an empty space as vast as a drained ocean, reveals there is a LOT more to explore and many more chances to run into trouble.     Also, there are piles and piles and piles and piles of drowned bodies, that have spent so long in the water that the pale-fleshed shapes have actually collapsed and merged into each other.     Sightlessly, the water-logged corpses lay in enormous heaps, still slick, and likely to remain so, in this damp atmosphere.     Going down there and exploring the enormous cityscape of Greek-looking ruins is not going to be fun.     Crow, still hanging on Kord, asks, "What are we looking for again?"     Enark, clearly spooked by all this, says almost too quietly to be heard, perhaps afraid to alert anything that might hear his voice, "We are looking for a 'Chime'. I am not certain where to begin looking, or what to do other than ring it. But that will supposedly allow Lady Carna to appear again--"     Crow buts in, without the cautionary volume Enark is using. "A chime? Like the Three Chmimes? R'lyeh, Phlegethon, and Cyaegha? Those ones?"     Enark says, "Err... Names weren't specified but probabl--What the devil!?" Enark rocks on his feet as the ground shifts and grinds beneath them. A sigil seemingly made of water, with something dark flowing within it, appears in the middle of the room. Unlike when the water drained, there is no corresponding noise to accompany the tremors. It all occurs silently. Until the glyph shatters, the dark things flow out into the air like snakes in the water, and vanish into this drowned underground temple city, for unknown purposes.     And lying in a heap before them, looking little better than the lumps of broken-down flesh amassed outside, is the Lantern they sought.     Right next to her is a Shrine of Light, apparently deposited by the broken glyph at the same time it dropped off Carna.     Whispers begin to audibly fill the area, though they remain distant presently, and will randomly stop as suddenly as they start. Sometimes a few voices, sometimes a great many. Always without warning, always back into silence.     And accompanying them is a sense of... Lingering sadness. Without any apparent cause. It is a small thing. Easily overlooked. But it is everywhere. An aura of melancholy that will not abate. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Whispering voices. Wonderful. That's totally not something that's kind of disorienting, though at the very least it's not the other kinds of whispers Kushiko's heard. No, these are technically worse, but at least they're not from her own head! As much as she had been surveying, leveling her guns cautiously--just because they're dead doesn't mean they're no longer a threat. While she does this, her frame's sensors continue to catalogue images of the place, from the statue, to the bodies, to more of well, everything. <"Carna!"> she actually shouts out in surprise, hustling in a surprisingly fast way, launching herself through the air and coming to a stop--though she's more on the line of 'keep the place safe' near the Shrine of Light that they are. It's the damn whispers. The sense of sadness. It resonates with her in an odd fashion, and Mesa's head continues to 'look' left and right and around before she gestures with a hand. A fine, hazy mist emanates from her hand. It's an attempt, as it were, to possibly invest Carna with some of her odd, Void energy in a way to bring her out of being an unconscious wreck, the mist flowing down like a shower. Which is physically very weird. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe will likely not bring up the eyes again unless it becomes actually imporant. She moves ahead as they go deeper into the temple as they arrive in the worship chamber. She takes a moment to look around, as her eyes dart about looking for issues of hostiles, traps or just about anything else. She sees nothing is trying to kill them and the bodiues? She teis to not gags t the smell she also is creeped the hell out about it. Still she presses ona nd it's not long before the glyph shatters and she takes a tep back then she hears the whispers. She is more focused on Carna however. "Carna!?!" Tomoe is about to race to the fallen Lantern when Kushiko acts quicker and she isn't botherd with that she looks to Kushiko. "You got her? We shouldn't delay long we may have to haul her out of here. I'll help if we have to carry her." She goes into a kind of overwatch for Kushiko as she works... 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     "There is no need for apology, Sir Enark." Priscilla says a little drily, but honestly enough. "It is simply not a matter I had planned to suddenly discuss in preemptive detail whilst there art more important things to do." Like pulling a lever. Thankfully, the lever doesn't kill anyone. That still doesn't stop Priscilla from hesitating for a good, long while on those slick stairs down that utterly rank tunnel. These are always Priscilla's least favourite places. No amount of blood and corpses ever seems to get to her, but piled up natural filth always seems to make her consider 'why me?'     Regardless, she makes sure to get a good, long look at the statue. It bothers her for excruciatingly obvious reasons, and it seems she only steps away after she has convinced herself of a reasonably high chance of its likeness being sheerly coincidental. Its placement would be almost as offensive as its implication were that not the case.     Oddly, waterlogged and partially melted piles of Cronenberged cadavers are what draw the least of her attention. Already very familiar with the subject, Priscilla's eyes basically gloss over them, visibly skipping those sections of the landscape to look for anything more important. Of course, Carna pretty obviously counts, whom the others have well in hand. She takes the opportunity instead of ask a question of Enark. "I hath seen thee before, draw upon the properties of water and poison and the combined mixture of both. I had even guessed such a domain to be thine primary method of sorcery. Tell me, hath this place any particular meaning to thee?" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The energies pumped into Carna seem to amount to making her start vomitting some vile black substance that fills her face mask quickly, forcing her to awaken, pull it down, and get up onto hands and knees to finish emptying the pitch-black, reflectionless substance from her lungs. She hacks and coughs, tentacles coated in the blackness squirming and flopping in the growing puddle. Face half-eaten away by whatever tendril-creatures they are, struggles to her feet with strength that would be absent in a living person so recently drowned and full of parasite worms and alien fluids, scanning those around her seemingly without recognition initially, but apparently enough memory surfaces to realize these are allies, because she does not make any hostile or cautious movements. She just accepts they are probably the ones who rescued her.     Her throat is so destroyed she doesn't have much to say at the moment though.     Enark seems aghast by this display. "Yes, Lady Tomoe. Please assist Lady Carna in evacuating. We will be right behind you, I am certain." He feels... Somber for reasons he isn't sure of. The air weighs on him. Crow slumps over Kord's body even more heavily (figuratively speaking, since it's weightless) under the aura's influence.     The Blue Scholar turns to Priscilla to try to answer her questions. "I believe this temple was constructed by the most recent Lord of Silence, the Seer of Styx, but is tied heavily to the element of Water, yes. It links us to the underworld called Hades, or a part of it. And likely to Atlantis as well, if Longita's story was anything to go by. While Lord Tharmas must have dwelled here in this area at some point, he was a lover of art, and of life. Something as gloomy as this would not have appealed to him. Though... Perhaps his Emanation would have felt otherwise. As Lord Tharmas was the Zoas of Water, so she would be as well, though a different aspect of it. But..." He looks around, still appalled by the ruins around him.     "For this place to be twisted like this... Something terrible must have happened here. To her, or wrought by her. Enion was, when separate from Tharmas, she possesses the image of the Earth Mother." He looks up at the statue, as if searching for a memory he can not quite place. "...That is either meant to be the Seer emulating Enion, or Enion herself. But I do not believe that this place was always like this. There must have been many worshippers here once. While I know some lore about Lady Enion, my devotion was to Lord Tharmas. If we wish to know more about this place, we would be better served either finding one of Enion's or the Seer's worshippers... Or searching for information in the Library."     As the whispers rise again, distantly (or are they closer?), he shudders and says, "Both of which can be pursued when we are free of this place."     And unless there are objections, the Shrine can be activated to whisk them anywhere but here. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "Carna! Where have you been? Do you remember us, do you have your journal?" Staren's glad to see they've activated the chime without even having to fight a bunch of monsters. To Enark, he comments, "'For this place to be twisted like this' could kind of be said of all of Lumiere..." 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Well that is a special kind of horror. Kushiko stands mute to it, though as Mesa might be somewhat not showing the signs of it, there's a grimace, faintly audible all the same. Reminds her somewhat of the Infested, yet not. Mesa holsters a weapon long enough to actually help her up, to help her up. No way would one of her healing items actually do anything other than bolster; and once she's somewhat assured that Carna can keep moving, well, all they can do is get the hell out of here, get somewhere that Carna can truly be recuperated at. So once she makes sure that Carna's belongings and other partgs of her are fully attached--as much as she might be listening to Enark recall the story, she'll move to activate the Shrine. <"She can't speak right now, least not yet. Throat's gone, most of her face too."> She could tell. She's done that to people, albeit not with parasites or other bizarre things. Well OTHER bizarre things, but not this explicitly. Not yet, at least. She'll outright carry Carna if required. At least someone to learn onto before sending herself and Carna to the safest Shrine there is. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe is going to help with Carna where it's needed she will end up helping Carna if she needs it on the way out. She will look to the shrine for a moment. She will not stay long she will make sure that Carna and everyone else gets out. She does not want to say here a moment longer. "I agree and I'd suggest if we must come back we do so when we are in better form." With that she will port out with everyone else. 
}}

5515/Lost Light

2018-02-02T04:00:37Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/10/11 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=Clues are sought about how to find and save Carna after a mishap at Confederate HQ's ruins. |Cast of Charact..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/10/11
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=Clues are sought about how to find and save Carna after a mishap at Confederate HQ's ruins.
|Cast of Characters=974, 42, 954, 513, 6, 964
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     During an investigation into the ruins of the old Confederate headquarters, consumed in a frenzy of attacking unseen foes, Carna fell victim to what seemed to be a giant-sized television that crept up on and then devoured her with its screen right before allies could destroy it. It may have been assumed she was simply killed, but she has not yet resurrected, based on the continued lack of contact. Something else may have happened to her, but it's hard to say what.     However, via Enark, a message was passed on to those who know Carna and may be concerned about her. Peacemaker Longita of the Church of Bleak Mercy has requested them to meet with her. In that church that is at least half comprised of a cemetery (though to what Dead, who can say. Who needs a grave, when the Dead still walk?) in that land of eternal night and gloom, cold and layered with the dust and decay of countless ages, within which sparks of Light can yet be found: Lumiere.     Travel remains as unusual as it has been recently. Instead of space compressing, an instantaneous teleportation from one place to another by folding one location onto other, voyage by Shrine of Light sends people hurtling towards their destination seemginly at a breakneck super-accelerated state, phasing through walls and obstacles until their eventual arrival.     It is still nearly instantaneous, but the travel from one place to another is experienced in full... Even if faster than any of them could move on their own, and without any interaction with objects or beings that may intersect their path.     Outside the fences of the Church's yard, once packed full of civilian Lanterns with nowhere else to go, but now surrounded by a quiet semblance of almost-life, there are lights, both from local sources and the world outside of Lumiere. Lanterns continue to go about their new existence, in ramshackle homes and buildings that have been reclaimed from the Unlit, a very high wall surrounding the whole community. Tacet Sanctos is, apparently, thriving. It is still a very subdued environment, the weakness of Lanterns who have not fed in so luog they are barely husks, one step removed from becoming Unlit themselves, keeping them docile and plodding.     But with the Styx Water available from the Church, both to heal and to nourish, they are on the better side of sanity, and very gradually recovering some of their strength. The Lanterns pause upon seeing the arrival of figures coalescing from shining ligh akin to a super nova compared to the murk that hangs over everything, and some offer prayers, folding their arms across their chests and going to one knee when they see who it is that has arrived.     Longita is probably within the church itself. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Well. It's good to see that SOME part of Lumiere is doing relatively well. Staren arrives in his armor as always, and is a bit taken a back when some offer prayers. "Umm.. thanks." he mutters awkwardly, before walking briskly into the church. "Enark? Longita? You here?" 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord arrived via the Shrine as all the others do, and spared no attention to the reverent undead beings around him. The aberrant nature of Lanterns makes lingering around them uncomfortable for him, and he had business to attend to. He advances to enter the church, but stays behind Staren for reasons known only to himself.     Primarily because he'd prefer not to get ambushed, himself, should this be a strange trap. Their luck has not been great. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna's probably NEVER going to get accustomed to this bizarre mode of travel! Even with her love of speed and running around, the teleportations of Lumiere leave the white fox on the verge of VOMITING sometimes.     She sort of dizzily wobbles around for the first ten seconds of fully materializing, padding about on all fours and sneezing in a rather undignified fashion.     As usual, she is in her Totem Animal form. The white-furred fox of the north. Lumiere's doom and gloom may just be too weird for her to want to show a normal face...     At the sight of Lanterns deciding to worship her though, she blinks a few times... and just trots on! Apparently this doesn't bother her. Nor does it get her too excited. It's just another facet in the life of an Exalt.     She IS effectively functioning as a guardian spirit, after all, right?     "What could have happened to Carna?" 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Carna has been missing, for a while and Tomoe is quite concerned but she also has other reasons to be concerned around here but really what can she do other than try to help with the restoration of this world ig it's ven possible? It does seem though Tacet Sanctos is thriving and doing very well, the Lanterns also seem to be doing pretty well. That actally gets a smile out of Tomoe a she moves to form up with the otehr arrivals. She'll be going to start looking for Longita. "Hey Longita?! Enark?! Crow?" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Longita waits inside. Enark stands nearby, though there's no sign of Crow. If the Shadow is present, it's hidden somewhere. Given Crow's affinity for being undetectable to senses other than plain sight and sound, that is a distinct possibility. Enark turns from where he was speaking with a troubled-looking priestess to wave the others over.     The black-wood pews, age-worn, and dust-strewn, have a handfull of Lanterns sitting in them, none looking particularly combat-worthy. Merely here to worship. Death-themed imagery is prevalent everywhere, as usual. It's in the stained windows, at the altar, in the crumbling tapestries, and so on.     The woman in white, an opaque veil concealing her eyes, and a series of gold chains linking the bottom of the veil to her collar, giving her mouth a 'caged' look, makes a gesture that has been associated with this particular faith. A sort of trio of hand motions, ending in overlapping both hands just above the chest. "Welcome, heroes. It is good that you came. It has been too long, and there is news you should be aware of."     Enark says, "The Peacemaker was just telling me that if Lady Carna has not returned or made contact by now, it is possible that she has been relocated somewhere she can not communicate from. Some place sealed off from the flow of Dead Lights and the normal Powers of Lumiere. And she also has said she may have an idea of where such a place may be."     Enark rubs his chest a bit and clears his throat a little as he steps aside, perhaps still feeling some tightness there after having a hole put through him. Magical healing or not, that is the sort of thing that can leave a mark.     Longita nods to what Enark has said and then makes a sweeping gesture for everyone to find a seat while she explains the rest. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord strides through the church with ease after it's confirmed there's no waiting menacing presence to deal with. Paranoia has become his norm when it comes to Lumiere, especially after the trip that saw shapeless horrors they couldn't possibly fight without some serious problems. He slides into a seat right when it's indicated, picking a spot at the front.     Kord squints over at Enark. Squint. Not out of suspicion, though it looks that way on the surface. "Is the wound opening again?" he wonders. Actual concern?     He settles with his arms crossed, his posture stiff, his head turning so he can fixate his stare on Longita. He is, as usual, silent unless he's speaking or fighting. It's a good thing he exudes a supernatural aura of menace or they might need to put a bell on him. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren folds his arms. "You mean like anywhere in the Multiverse out of warpgate and radio range?" He sounds a bit snarky, pointing out the incredibly obvious by reflex. Then he seems to realize how it sounded, and drops his arms to a more neutral posture. "Sorry. Just... Well, since we can't quickly check the rest of the Multiverse, if you know a likely place we /can/ investigate, we should get on that." He goes to find a seat. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe looks to Logniat and Enark she notiocs Crow is not openly around but that doesn't mean he's not somewhere. She smiles a bit at the pair. "HEy it's good to see you and I was here ot ask about that. I haven't heard a peep from Carna for a while and I'm getting concerned about it." The Salamander woman has a look of worry about her that she's not trying to hide andthen at Count Cord noticing issues with a wound on the undead man. "...Enark? Do you need help?" 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' The whtie fox tilts her whole head curiously at this news. Something can stop a Lantern from resurrecting? Weird. Weird and scary. So it's with a troubled growly chirp that she pads over next to Staren...     Though when Enark flinches, she takes note! "Scholar you shouldn't be about so much! Heal up first!" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark waves off the concern from others. "I healed the wound, but after going so long without injury, the feeling of being... Run through like that was quite disconcerting. My breathing still catches on occasion, but I have little use for it aside speech. It is more reflex than anything at this point. Honestly, I'll be fine."     Longita waits until that matter is settled, then turns her attention on Staren. "I know little of the Multiverse beyond what I have heard and observed from all of you. Though when I sought guidance from High Matron Sepulchre during the... Upheaval that occurred, I was informed that this is not the first time that this has happened, nor is it the first time that Lumiere has been linked with a Multiverse. I am not certain when that occurred, or what specifically the High Matron was referring to, but as she said, the chaos passed."     She shakes her head, chains clinking lightly, almost a merry jingle, in contrast to all the gloom everywhere else. Though they could just as easily be seen as more dire, a sign of imprisonment or enslavement, as is probably more likely for Lumiere. "Either way, if it were simply somewhere else in the Multiverse, she would likely be able to make contact eventually. But there are places right here in Lumiere that block such communication. One in particular is a place you all have been steadily working your way towards. Given the way that the Dead of Lumiere are bound here, it is more probable that a Lantern would appear somewhere here than anywhere else in the Multiverse. Perhaps not even 'probable' so much as 'guaranteed'."     Longita begins to pace a little bit, and asks, "To begin, have any of you heard the name 'Atlantis'?" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren looks pretty surprised at word of another Multiverse. Then again, some weird timeloopy stuff might be going on, too.     Finally, Longita asks a basic trivia question. "On many Earths, a city of legend that sunk into the sea in ancient times. In mine, it returned during the apocalypse, and is inhabited by slaving monsters. What does it mean here?" 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna's not so happy with a response like that. But the fox apparently is satisfied enough to just chirp in understanding and remain seated for story time from Longita...     "Only the way Staren mentioned it!" She blurts not long after he's explained his thoughts on the lost continent. "Heard the name in the Multiverse a few times. There's an Atlantis in Lumiere?" 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Ninjas are sneaky. Especially technorganic ninjas that are puppeted by strange otherworldly children from beyond. Given she was there when it happened, she's keenly curious to see Carna come back. Hopefully you know, not deaded again. She finally decides to drop in--and by 'she' we mean that berserker-predator frame that more than a few here are familiar with: Valkyr. The anchor-tipped tail flicks slightly when she drops from above, making next to no sound when her feet touch the ground--taloned and slight digitgrade as they were. <"Enark, Kord. Tomoe. Staren."> her voice pulses in that ... weird fashion as always. Her faceless visage seems to be momentarily focused on Finna before falling on Longita. <"Atlantis is something we've read about. Underwater city, sometimes myth, sometimes real in unexpected ways."> A pause. <"Given Carna's state when she disappeared, she could've been flung there? Time-space disruption."> 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe says "All right, I admit I don't really know how the undead really work you'd know better than me on that. IF you need help though you just need to ask, my friend." She looks to Longita for a moment pondering her words for a moment.. "We might have abit of a problem then and yes I have. It's an old legend on my world about a city that sunk into the sea. People have been trying to find it for thousands of years. Then again aother mytic city was found a century ago so that just added fuel to the fire." She looks to Kushiko and nods a little bit at her. "Good to see you Kushiko. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Longita hmms, not entirely surprised by the revelation of it existing other places, even if different. She makes her gesture of greeting to Kushiko when she arrives, welcoming her. "That is part of why I bring it up, yes. Indeed, Atlantis, regardless of the name it may be known by, has a great deal of mythic resonance. Even in many worlds where it did not exist as a real place, it is known of, or spoken of in some form. And that is precisely what the Atlantis of Lumiere is." She pauses in her pacing and turns to face everyone again. "The Atlantis of Lumiere is the slain myth of Atlantis. And just as the myth, it was a place of tremendous promise. Wealth, art, sorcerous power, pleasures and luxuries that could be described as 'undreamt of', despite the very fact the reason the city existed at all here was specifically because someone dreamt of it. It was, like the City of Imagination, Gorgon, a paradise. The first Dead and the immortals of Eternity inhabited it in the time before Lumiere was constructed. And as Lumiere was built up around it, it remained a pivotal nexus for culture, learning, and the preservation of life."     She shakes her head, setting those chains to jangling again. "Exotic life forms from all eras, rendered docile by both death and the sorcerers of Atlantis, dwelled there. A tyrannosaurus pulling an opulent golden palace on wheels, and Eden-like gardens wherein unicorns and stone-skinned lions both wandered side by side were scarcely worth raising an eyebrow to, such was their commonality."     She hesitates briefly in her delivery of a history lesson. Enark is busily trying to write this all down, with as much fervor as Carna ever did in her journal, though for different reasons. Enark is a history nerd and will want to have a record of this to look up in the Library later.     Whatver caused Longita's hesitation, she gets over it and says, "As Lumiere grew, travelling to and from Atlantis became troublesome. While methods of transportation were invented, their power dwindled when outside of the city's area of influence. A slain myth does not have the same permanence as something that once truly existed, though I will admit that at times the lines between the two can be blurred here, or even overlap. Those who dwelled in Atlantis thus has more power than those who had to work and live elsewhere, and this great inequalities. And some wished to correct that, by finding a way to siphon the concept of Atlantis and funnel it into other places, creating miniature versions of the city, or at least places where its riches, pleasures, and power would pool and gather like an oasis."     Longita begins pacing again, a bit faster than before. "One of these places was the Cataract of Drowned Wisdom, within the Underworld proper. The god Hades supplied the area for it, and the means. The second outlet for Atlantis's magic was Aetheir Cathedral, where we Peacemakers base ourselves, and the largest population of surviving Lit Dead. However, dividing something that existed only as a recreation of a myth, stretching it across such vast distances as Lumiere encompasses, had unforseen consequences." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     A dead myth. It makes a strange sort of sense. "...Why is a City of Imagination named after a monster that turns people to stone?"     Other than that question, he listens patiently. This is rather fascinating! He'd be writing it down too if he didn't already record everything he sees and hears as a matter of course. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe says "Makes sense concepts would be here too given this isn't just for dead people right?" She tilts her head a little bit as she starts to listen as more is explained about it. This is seriously a lot to take in but I think i get the gist of it. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "Whooah?! ....Draining... a fake dream city of its power to make other places richer? .... I'm not a sorcerer.... what happens if you do that? Doesn't sound good for either side of the deal!" Finna ponders loud, tilting her head again in question.     Kushiko's arrival is largely ignored. At least visually.     Heavens knows the fox is going to find some ways to tease that thing EVENTUALLY. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' <"It could have been something else before all that,"> Kushiko remarks, as she considers what's being given to them so far, a slight bob of her head--Valkyr's--towards Tomoe in passing. <"Either way, it sounds as though the part of it that, assuming Carna ended up there, could be something that's distinctly not part of the same paths and ... weave?"> Her eyeless face sortof looks questioningly at the others for filling in the things. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord may have zoned out a little during the explanation. When she starts talking of myth and the spreading of said myth and the embodiment of a dead myth... he really checks out almost completely, hardly moving or even making any kind of noise. But eventually he does get up to a stand. He lowers his hands down to his sides and his frown can be heard in his voice.     "So, getting right to the point," he says, clearly growing impatient, "This place, this 'Atlantis,' is where we would find Carna now?" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Longita pauses at Staren's question, frowning slightly in confusion. "I am sorry, I do not know what you are referring to." Maybe Gorgon means something else here. She keeps hesitating when some questions are asked, as though unsure if she's allowed to answer them, but when Kord tried to cut to the chase, bows her head. "I apologize for the circuitous way in which I have gotten to what I am trying to say. To be honest I was told only to inform you that you must ring the Three Chimes to find your companion, and where to find them. But I thought it best that you understand why you are doing it." She folds her hands at her belly, and composes herself.     "The anchors for Atlantis's power are known as the Three Chimes. Atlantis is sealed shut below Barrowville's lowest reaches, and aside from the castle of the Eyes of the Asher, it is Lumiere's lowest structure. It is highly unlikely that she is there, but with space stretched and distorted, it is quite possible that she has been drawn into one of those stretched streams between the Three Chimes. If you can find and ring them, you can fix the mistake that Atlantis represents, and allow your companion to be found in un-altered space once again. The Three Chimes are located in Aetheir Cathedral, the Temple of the Drowned, and one other place. Other passages will be opened by ringing all three, but hopefully you need ring only one to collapse the altered space."     She bows to those gathered. "Break the pattern of the Three Chimes, and the one whom you seek should emerge. If that does not work, you will be granted permission to enter Aetheir Cathedral to ring the second. In the worst case scenario you may need to find and ring the third as well. I recommend starting with the Temple of the Drowned. It is adjacent to the Vanquisher's Nest, where you all defeated the first Marble Guardian of Lostrata, the Chains of the Dusk Sun. Considering Carna's connection to that battle, it is the one most likely to return her. You may need to search for a way to drain the Temple before you enter it though. It is not what it once was, and unwholesome shapes lurk in the depths."     So they aren't going to get an entire history lesson on Atlantis and what happened to it, it seems. But they don't need that to know how to rescue Carna. Though that Longita went out of her way to inform them of things she was not necessarily supposed to means she is at least trying to help them. Even if it means going against those above her.     And there are too few allies in Lumiere to discard such an act, simple as it may be. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "In other worlds, Gorgon is either a humanoid, possibly with snakes for hair, that can turn creatures to stone if they meet her gaze, or a metal bull that breathes poison that does the same." Staren explains.     He listens to the rest and strokes his chin. "So we have to go to the Water Temple... Suppose we could always drain it by blowing a really big hole in it..." 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     A slow, growly sort of noise comes from Kord, his impatience kept to a dull simmer due to her apologetic tone. She does get to the point very quickly, and spawns a soft, hissing sigh from him when he learns that he has to go somewhere moderately familiar. He then turns to look at Staren with uncertainty, like his comment caused pause in the demigod warrior. But Count Kord has had quite enough exposition for tonight, and soon walks off to prepare himself mentally for more excursions deeper into Lumiere. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe thinks on the Tenno's word and Kushiko is right it there's still a chance that Carna could be out there. So she's not going give up on the idea but she will be far more open to other options she might come across in the search for her. she does listen though there is information here that i useful to it. "Humm draining the temple could be a problem if the mechanism for it have fallen into disrepair, if it even has any." She looks to Staren. "Let's see if we can find a proper way to drain it fuirst but that might need to be a option if we can't find any other way in." 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "is ANYTHING in Lumiere still what it started as?!" Finna blurts, unable to suppress her exasperation at how ridiculous this quest is getting. Not that this has dampened her exuberance any! The white fox restlessly starts pacing while she's still listening to others' responses...     And Staren saying 'blow a hole in the temple' gets her to freeze briefly in her tracks... and STARE at him.     "Everything's explosives with you!" She complains. "Remember what happened last time things went BOOM?!" 
}}

5500/Hands

2018-02-02T03:59:23Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/09/29 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=Elites come across a most worrisome clock. |Cast of Characters=974, 42, 954, 70, 964, 6, 513 |pretty=yes }}..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/09/29
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=Elites come across a most worrisome clock.
|Cast of Characters=974, 42, 954, 70, 964, 6, 513
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     The evacuation tunnel they exit following their battle with the Unpainted Kord leads them directly into a cavernous area seemingly made entirely of the smashed, broken, old, and decaying remains of clocks and time-keeping devices of all sorts. Ancient, modern, and futuristic, any device for keeping time that once existed and then was destroyed was seemingly brought to the same place and abandoned.     It could be considered a graveyard for time.     Carna is hunting for dangers immediately, eyes scanning for any sign of something awful lying in wait to attack them. They've been ambushed twice so far on this expedition, after all, even if one of them was sort of brought upon their own heads by activating an alarm.     Crow remains quiet and lurking in Enark's shadow as the Blue Scholar finishes regenerating enough of his inner organs and such from his healing magic to speak again, even if quite wheezingly. He coughs into one hand as he continues to lean upon Staren for support. "Ah... This place... I remember. This is where I came to collect my time pieces." Hack cough. "A-Ahem. It was forbidden to have these. Keeping track of time forms..." Wheeze. "...Attachments to the past that hinder passing on from who we once were. But it was so obnoxious not knowing. So I would salvage what I could here."     Enark looks back at Crow for a moment, then to Kord, who had previously on the radio said he wished to speak to him at some point. Then he brightens and says, "Oh, there is a most unusual clock I wish to check up on! Come, I will show it to you!" He slips his arm off of Staren's shoulders and starts hurrying off on his own along one of various paths cleared through the towering heaps of clockwork and circuits and metal and stone and wood. Whatever lies above them is too far away to discern, but there's some awfully large clocks around here. Isn't that 'Big Ben' off to the left?     Carna starts feeling around inside of her cloak for her journal so that she can take notes on what has happened. A great deal has occurred after all. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren stays near the back of the party at first -- or at least, behind Tomoe. After checking the ammo in his pistol (it's low-tech enough that he actually has to eject the magazine and look?), he's stashed it away and drawn his laser pistol instead, his left arm around Enark to help support the scholar.     When Enark runs off, he shouts: "Don't run off on your own! Get back here!" He resists the impulse to chase after -- It's no good if they /both/ get killed by an ambusher, after all. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord growls in displeasure when Enark tries to hurry off ahead, so soon after he said they need to talk. Still grimy and unhappy, the man trudges along to follow Enark, Staren (presumably) and Crow. He keeps his eyes, and nose, peeled for any sort of danger in the dark down here, where so many destroyed time pieces exist. He thinks to himself about whether the afterlife resembles something like this, to bait his patron god into providing some sort of clue, but he is met with silence.     Kord will follow Enark specifically to keep the man from getting maimed beyond recognition.     "That man recovers quickly," he mutters.     Kord is so miserable right now that he doesn't have time to acknowledge the wonder of such a place. The graveyard of every time piece that has ever been deserves some appreciation, but he doesn't seem interested right now. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     "It is better that he dost than that he doth not." Priscilla says to Kord. It's slightly weird resuming chatting with him, after his weirdo paint-fake. Still, the only way to go is forward.     The thematic of this place is far more bizarre, and almost equally perplexing. Why would every clock in the world gather in this place? Was it something akin to Unification, or had the dead of Lumiere carefully gathered and disposed of them here so that the Lit would think little of events transpiring in the world of the living, and let go of their time-sensitive worries? It bugs her, a little, for reasons she can't entirely describe. Had there ever been a clock in the Painted World? She doesn't think so.     Idly, she checks to see if any still work, up to and including shining a light on a sundial she might pass to see if the shadow does anything screwy, but she dares not let Enark get too far ahead, lest he get himself stabbed again. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' When it came to where Valkyr-Kushiko was positioned, it was largely near the front. A mixture of blood and ink in varying ways had been effectively spattered at different points of the purple-black colors of the Warframe, having since dismissed that held Void energy. Systems--organic and otherwise--knit themselves back together as she took the fore. So this time, she's got one of her weapons out--that 'speargun' she hadn't really had a chance to properly use, and a pair of stars tucked between her fingers, ready to double up on something if it chooses to make their presence known. So when Enark rushes past, there's a discordant grumbling sound as she watches Kord at least pursue, though the others do not yet. Thusly did she close in a little towards Carna to ensure she's covered well enough by her tanky presence, and to let her actually write some as she quietly murmurs, <"You doing alright?"> 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe is trying to keep on point as she's wont to do, she seems on edge but that's also not new either she looks to Crow and Enark for a moment mking sure he's recovering well enough. "Tell me about it not knowing who you were losing everything? It's like jumping into abyss sometimes..." She trails off and she looks back to Staren it's good to have him on backup though she's shocked Staren had something like her home world would have. "He does, I doubt I'd heal that quick or even surive what happened..." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark slows his gait, but doesn't stop. Despite his recent injuries, and the coughing fits that continue to ensue as partially-reconsistuted lungs try to provide the air for speaking with, he seems remarkably chipper and enthused after what just happened. "I am sorry. It has simply been... Quite some time since I was here last! ...Heh. You see what I did there? You get it? Time?"     Crow pipes up in response to Enark trying his hand at humor. "We got it, we just don't want it." D:=     Enark hmphs. And coughs. "I admit it has been a long time -- heh -- since I was here last, but back then no one came here. There is nothing for predators to hunters, nothing useful to be salvaged, and coming here at all was a great risk. Purifiers were the only ones permitted, for the sake of disposing of any stray time pieces, and the less said about them the better. I risked annihilation if I was caught here." He frowns in thought. "I used to carry a powerful divine tool of Lord Tharmas to render me completely undetectable. I wonder what ever happened to it? I was lost in madness for so long in that tower..." He shakes off his gloom, and continues along, following the paths this way and that around mounds of machinery and masonry and whatever else, knowing his way well even after so long.     Most of the clocks seem to be non-functional. Even the ones that seem mechanically sound just don't do anything, but all of them seem to have suffered some form of damage, rather intentionally smashed, or from a long fall. The sundial seems to work just fine as Priscilla shines a light on it, so at least the clocks aren't breaking physics. The more complex ones just aren't working anymore.     Though a large, half-destroyed wooden frame with a blood-stained pendulum lined with razors looks like it may have once been some kind of exotic execution or torture device, so if there's more things like that around here, maybe it's fortunate that nothing is running anymore.     Carna's searching becomes more frantic as Kushiko speaks to her. Carna does not answer immediately, instead stripping off her cloak to search all of its pockets individually, fingers deftly and quickly opening latches, undoing buttons, and checking the contents of each in sequence. She removes her hat and searches inside of it. She pats down her body, looks around at the ground, and then panickedly returns to her cloak to search it again, already having forgotten which pockets she has checked. Which is all of them.     "My journal is gone." she says extremely tensely. "We have to go back and look for it." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren would have figured that this is just where dead clocks end up, like how dead knowledge ends up in the library, but apparently the population of the dead had a culture of getting rid of stuff? This raises questions about who, exactly, had such a culture, since the survivors struggling to live in the city sure didn't have the power to make it all the way here just to dump clocks.     But now they have a more pressing problem. Staren checks something. After stopping to stare into space for a few moments, he says: "I haven't seen your journal since I was summoned here. You must have lost it sometime before then." He folds his arms and grunts a 'Hmmm.' "Are there any shrines of light near that facility? If so, perhaps we should press on to the next one so we can mount a recovery expedition from a better position. Alternatively... where do you... live? Perhaps it's there."     After a moment more of thought about this, considering Carna's condition, he offers her a spare tablet. "If you need to write something down right now, you can use this and then copy it into the journal when we find it. How long do we have before your memories fade?" 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla very much leans on the latter hypothesis. The devices seem very deliberately damaged; something she can tell even when it comes to the handful that are too complicated for her to really understand. "Purifiers?" she asks, looking away from the shadow cast by the stone needle she finds herself at. "Some manner of holy men? Or perhaps men of the law? A Covenant of enforcement of Lumiere's ways?" It does sound kind of interesting. Then, in exasperation: "Thou once had something of that nature and power and had never thought to mention it at all this entire time?" God dammit crazy mimic guy.     Also god dammit Carna. Were it any form of normal journal, Priscilla would tell them 'tough' and keep going. Knowing that it contains literally all of the memories that make Carna remotely useful to anyone in the Multiverse though, the problem is a little more nuanced. "Didst thou not just recently possess it? Where is it that it was last seen? If it was beyond the vault door, there shalt be no retrieving it now. Thou shalt hath to write a new one, with the aid of another possesed of a tighter weave of memory." 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord follows Enark further into the graveyard of time, listening to his words. His memories being muddled makes the man lift his hand up to his concealed chin, contemplating all he knows and has heard so far. He doesn't have much to say in regards to puns, seeming distracted in those very thoughts. He approaches Enark after he reaches a conclusion about something, ignoring the panic behind them coming from Carna. He takes this opportunity to carefully reach out and rest his hand on Enark's shoulder, so that he may speak frankly to the man.     "You did succeed in making that perfect mimic," he speaks in almost a whisper to Enark, "Because you are that mimic. That is why you don't remember. You are like a Lantern. You probably took in his Dead Lights after he was destroyed."     "You are not truly Enark, or ... perhaps you are intended to carry on his will, in a more durable form. Those spikes should have destroyed you. Moreover, it is impossible to believe you survived in that library all that time on your own, especially if you went mad from so frequently. Those beastly constructs would have killed you, if not for your current state."     "You are proof of Enark's success."     His grip is tight, so that Enark can't jerk away from him.     "I will let you think about that. We are returning to the library as soon as we can. There are matters that need to be investigated therein." 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe gives s short laugh at Crowand Enark she found it funny enough and anything to lift one's spirits and she will take it. she looks to Wnark though for a moment as she listens. "This explains much of where your ability to keep up with came on even I'd balk at being errased." She notes as she looks at the path ahed keeping with Enark and the rest. The clocks get locked at and she tilts her head a little bit. "Wait your journal's gone? Carna?! Shit!" 5R he starts looking around trying to think of where the journal might have gone or been left. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Quizzical is Kushiko at first, the Warframe tilting her head in mimicry of what she herself is doing untold distances away. If her displayed face could show it, it would be a definintive one of shock and concern, make no mistake about it. Mind you, she already seems to start instinctively looking--using her own tech momentarily to check the immediate vicinity--fruitlessly, before she focuses on the other possibilities. <"We could help, so to speak. Of the times we've been with you and not separated, I'm sure I could at least offer something to try filling it in if we cannot go back where we need to."> An occasional glance is given in Enark and Kord's direction; whether she can hear what they're saying from this distance, the Warframe gives no proper indicator. Hrrrm... <"We're asking Ordis and the Lotus to review what they've seen through my frame's systems. Might get some clue at least, but maybe not."> Given that Staren couldn't pick up something... oh surely not when they were doing that platforming earlier?? 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Once again, Finna's taken the form of a simple fox. She seems to prefer this one at the moment, it seems, in a way that she didn't before the Union collapsed. Because normally she'd be in human form teasing and antagonizing someone in the gang, right?     The white-furred fox whines quietly as it paws along with the group, sticking closest to Staren and Tomoe - and furthest from Priscilla as possible.     Though as soon as people start bemoaning a missing Journal, she blinks a few times... and digs around in her fur?!     Somehow or another this allows her to produce Carna's journal, clasped gently in her jaws. She bounces over to the Lantern and hops up onto Carna's shoulders... and drops the journal straight into her clutches.     "You did drop this earlier! A little more careful next time." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "We should really get a copy of that made. Multiple copies." Staren comments, eying the Journal. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark slows down even more when he is questioned about Purifiers, looking significantly discomfitted. "Err... No. They are not... What I would call men of any persuasion. Have you, err... Do they have 'angels' where you all come from? Or have you read the Bible? The original one? Where the angels are described rather... Nightmarishly? Purifiers are... They're like that. They could charitably be called sentinels of Purity, or 'Law Golems'. They are made of and enforce absolute adherence to their element. Any deviation from their protocols is met with overwhelming force. Any contact with something deemed corrupt makes those affiliated with the corrupt one also a targt for eradication." Enark gestures as he calls back to Priscilla from where he and Kord and Tomoe are assembled up ahead.     "There used to be entire flying cities that existed parallel to Lumiere, floating around it. Islands. Worlds owned by powerful immortal beings and gods."     Enark shrugs. "I have no idea what caused them to be declared corrupt, but the Purifiers did what they were made to do, and most of them are gone now." The Scholar looks upwards at an unseen ceiling. "I wonder why they didn't try to stop the Unlit. Maybe whomever controls them has fallen as well."     Before he has a chance to remark on the artifact that he lost, Kord puts a hand on his shoulder. Enark looks slightly pensive at first, but then just frowning in puzzlement. He keeps his own voice down, and says, "The Lit are very durable. That is why the prospect of being taken to one of the various 'Hells' by Corruptors made the presence of Purifiers desirable by Lumiere's rulers. Who wants to be tortured for eternity? Though the Crimson King wound up trying regardles..." He shakes his head. "I understand that the threat of mimics is a heavy one, but mimics do not absorb Dead Lights. That is not how I designed them. I didn't even know Dead Lights existed until after you all rescued me. They are the fragments of slain souls, torn from their originators. I doubt that, even in madness, I could have created something that functioned upon principles I did not yet know about." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     He does not seem concerned about the possibility of being a mimic. He gets tired, he has internal organs, he has yet to attempt to eat anyone's face... Who would believe such a thing? But something about Kord's theory stirs a memory for Enark, and he begins to think on it. He created the Perfect Mimic for company. Could he have modelled it after himself too? If that's the case, then could there be another of him out there somewhere, wearing his face? As a matter of fact... Everyone else has an Unpainted duplicate, it seems. Could there be THREE of him?     Before he can try to track down the errant strand of memory further, he is disrupted by all the commotion surrounding Carna. "What the devil?" he ponders as he stands on tip toes to try to see.     Carna is extremely agitated, and the attempts by others to help don't seem to be soothing her at all. "I don't remember where I had it last. I have to go back and find it." Finding a Shrine of Light might be a better plan, giving them a shortcut back to their arrival point in the Umberdark Tunnels, but it appears reason is leaving her as quickly as memory. She grabs the tablet Staren hands her jabs at the unfamiliar object with her fingers in a fruitless attempt to try to write on it, and then throws it away.     "Find it and I will go there." she snaps as Kushiko offers to scan her memories for it. But then Finna leaps up on her shoulder, making Carna whirl in response and draw a knife from her vest. The journal is dropped into her hand though, and she violently graps it and holds it to her chest with both hands, trying to shake the fox off. "You took it! You took it, didn't you!?" She backs away from everyone, back towards the tunnel they just left, before realizing that is a useless escape route. Has she forgotten her allies already? She takes a moment to look at her journal, to flip it open and start scanning through it, and then just continues reading it. She sits down hard and just remains there, renewing her memories, and reminding herself of who everyone is, what has happened, and who Carna herself is.     It doesn't look like she's going to be getting up for a little while.     Crow has remained mostly silent through all this. Its usual energetic attitude and playfulness extremely subdued. Of course, the Shadow was nearby to hear Kord's theory, but little horn-nubbins twitch this way and that listening to all the other conversations going on. "Can that journal even be copied? It's enchanted." Did they know it was enchanted? Well, the fact that Carna never seems to run out of pages no matter how much she writes in it may have been a clue to that effect, but...     Their voices carry far in this trash heap of timepieces, but the sudden creaking groan and cacophony of eternally-old clocks crashing and collapsing somewhere in the distance carries even further. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Great, so there might be Purifiers somewhere. Wonderful. He goes to retrieve the tablet. He can make more, but why waste? When he hears her shouting at Finna, he looks back, "Calm down!" And... now she's reading. Staren supposes she might need a little while. "Enchanted how?" he asks Crow.     And then there's a noise somewhere. Great. "Shall I send some drones to have a look, or does one of you..." he looks towards Finna, "Perhaps the stealthy one... want to go look?" 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Well. Kord's theory has a wrinkle. He frowns to himself, not entirely convinced that he was wrong, but jarred enough to grunt and decide to leave Enark alone. The fact that Enark would not have understood what Dead Lights are -- because the Lit were too durable to shred up the way Unlit could do to them, making such knowledge rare even among the Blue Scholars -- makes him wonder if his assumption was wrong, but his arms cross as his head turns, listening to the sound of Carna flipping her lid over yonder. He is... stunned by her helplessness, and frowns to himself behind his helmet and mask in sympathy for the creature, whose identity is really just a carefully crafted disguise.     A distant crashing.     Kord is already gone by the time Staren makes his suggestion. There isn't even a whisper, his wings carrying him up into the air for him to fly over the graveyard of clocks at high speed to investigate the source of the sound. Somehow, in the pitch black, he can move with utter silence. If something attacks him, it won't be because it heard or saw him, that's almost certain. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna's first a bit reluctant to just hop off despite all the shaking! Because annoying Carna a little is fun. But when the Lantern simply FREAKS OUT... it's no longer fun. In fact it's a bit jarring. The fox leaps clear away and lands softly near Staren, eyes on the retreating Carna.     "... Ehehehe... that's what happens when your memory's like that smelly cheese." She grouches softly. A bit of sympathy there!     "Did not!" The fox yaps back a moment later, only a tad bit hurt.     With all of that consternation, she only half-heard the explanation... but half is still enough for the fox to turn her nose - and eyes - towards Staren's face, tail now wagging a bit! Happy someone actually appreciates her, maybe?     "Where'm I scouting? Just tell me where to go!" 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Enark slows down and she tilts her head. "Ah Angels I get it, and yes the whole fictionalization of them in pop culture." She gets the idea and trails of fa little distracted she listens to the rest of Enark's situation. "Maybe we can fin out someday and maybe fix things or at least make this place less a pit of suffering for all the souls here." She pauses looking concerned for a moment about the journal is found and she's glad someone found. she looks to Carna worried for a moment and can only guess what it's like to have to live with the mental state she does "Easy Carna you lost the journal and were asking for help to find it." She hears the crashing too and wants to go check it out but people are already on it and she can't fly down here. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "You didn't hear that sound?" Staren points at his ears. "I'm not sure exactly where it was, though." It's actually a moment before Staren realizes Kord is gone, he's so quiet. "...Oh, huh. I guess Kord's the stealthy one too..." 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Indeed, there's kind of a twofold thing--one, she does see when it was dropped, and is about to actually present the visual feed from it--but the second part? Is Finna actually having caught it when it slipped out. <"... well, that was easy. It was back from when we were in that room with the computers, so to speak."> Specifically when she and Crow were messing with things. She is kind of empathetic to that plight though. At least Carna could /write things down/ when it came to memories. There were such gaping holes in hers, no amount of writing or scribing down could help her, and she's kind of taken aback by her overall reaction. <"No no... alright, just keep an eye out too, okay?> What she sees happening, a replay of data is enough to make her quietly shift her position from where she's at, meandering a little ways towards Priscilla to investigate a few things. At least, at first. Once she's closer to Priscilla--and in a position where Finna's not necessarily looking her way, she lifts a hand near Priscilla and shows her a projection. It's without sound, but it demonstrates a key image and a few words--but unless one's on Priscilla's shoulder or behind her, they might have a problem making it out. 'Dropping nor stealing may not be what happened. In the meantime, she's keeping a secondary ear, or rather, the Lotus and Ordis are while she's otherwise investigating, the images briefly succint as she focuses her attention elsewhere. The crashing, resounding sound however, makes her quickly alert to something that may be coming. Again. With Kord moving as he does, Valkyr follows in her own eerie and silent fashion as well. Two could do that whole noiseless motion, and the cyberninja was pretty darn good at it too. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "Are you kidding me? We just got AWAY from things that wanted to smash us!" Finna mock-complains... and breaks into a prancey trot that looks very odd for a fox. But soon enough... both the sound of her paws - miniscule though they were - and her very presence seem to be no longer there.     The disappearance is so complete that one can't quite figure out exactly when she vanished or what she was doing. A brainfart results from anyone who tries too hard.     Off she goes to follow up on the noise! 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Huh. That's not entirely something Priscilla can relate to. She knows about golems, but they're more or less just tools of war. Inhuman protectors of justice and divine law are more like the Silver Knights, but they're still really quite human. The scale of power Enark is suggesting is reminiscent of the gods themselves, but those are honestly the most human and fallible of all. It's something she'll have to think about for a while.     She misses all the bits about being a mimic though, since she's suddenly busy trying to walk Carna calmly through having misplaced her journal. She asked Staren to check his recordings, but he already had that idea and didn't come up with anything. Of course Carna herself doesn't remember, and it seems neither Kord nor herself typically pay enough attention to the Lantern's common habit. Only Kushiko had really glimpsed at it, and by her account, it's behind a huge amount of distance and a horde of Unlit kept at bay behind vault doors. Finna has it. That is incredibly suspicious. Priscilla's displeasure is pretty much palpable, but just barely left unvoiced, on the chance that she had actually just been helping. Maybe. The fact she hadn't given it back already is maximum squint material.     "I shalt be staying with Sir Enark and Lady Carna for the moment, whilst one is wounded and the other is . . ." she looks at the journal-flipping Lantern. "Preoccupied." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Carna seems stuck in her own little world as she reads, unresponsive to anything else unless physically provoked. Which means Kushiko, Tomoe, and Priscilla standing by may be good, since it means someone is watching Carna's back while the Lantern is oblivious to the world.     Enark hesitates at the noise, clearly uncertain about his pronouncement of how safe this place is now. Especially since, unlike when he snuck down here before to steal clocks, he had an invisibility amulet or something, and now he doesn't, so if Purifiers are still hanging around they are all in immense danger. World-burners and soul-scrubbers aren't titles for things one wants to meet in general.     Crow drapes upon Enark as best a 2-D silhouette can, to provide what protection it can. It appears far morre significantly drained than at the God Forge.     As Kord flies off to examine the source of the sound, Staren ponders (or has already sent out) drones to also investigate, and Finna may be on her way as well.     What they find at the source could easily be chalked up to the wear and tear of ages. Some stone ledge has crumbled from an invisible wall of sorts. The platform it fell from was concealed. While guards are useful for dissuading scavengers, so is making the place unfindable. But it looks like whatever magics kept this place invisible from the outside are now only still active on the inside. However, they have their way out. And it just happens that there's a trio of Shrines of Light up in the tunnel that seems to lead upwards.     Three? That is worrying given the last time there were two in close proximity. But there's something a bit more pressing that might take up Kord's attention, and then that of Staren's and Finna's when they observe it, and anyone else who comes along after that. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     A vast clock like a gigantic grandfather clock. Larger than the tallest modern building of Earth, and far more ornate. Black wood, lined from base to top with decorations and imagery in silver and gold, depicting near-biblical scenes of the dead, the underworld, gods and demons, all looking up towards the top, spanning the entire timepiece on both sides, all the way up. Whether cringing in fear, looking on in awe, or standing boldly and determinedly, they are all looking upon a mural on the inside of the clock, their metal hands seemingly trying to hold the glass door shut. The chamber within the cloak holds a giant-sized pendulum that lies still.     The mural is of a single ebon-skinned figure, humanoid and herculean in bulld and stature, going all the way from the interior's bottom to the very, very top, where the clock face acts as his own face. A mere silhouette of a man of titanic proportions, but one that the sight of may stir cold fear in the pit of bellies, a clutching alien terror squeezing at the heart, for reasons wholly unclear.     However, it's also the same visage that was painted upon the ceiling of the Library of Murdered Knowledge, as an army of gods and heroes prepared to wage war against it.     Enark, unwilling to venture after the others until there is some indication of if there is a threat, at least calls out to them, relying on the accoustics and otherwise total silence to carry his words. "While you are over there, can you check if there's any time left on that absurdly tall clock?"     Crow murmurs, "Hey, let's keep it down. I don't want you to get hurt again." Then it responds to Staren. "It's magicked to have infinite pages. We might be able to find more, or a substitute, but I don't know if copying it exactly will work. Something to investigate, I guess." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren stays with Carna, for the moment, waiting for the scouts to report back. When someone points out the figure, he asks Enark, "Who is it supposed to be?" when someone points out there are three shrines of light, he sighs. "Great..." 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord flies until he finds that it was simple debris from the gradual decay of this place. Their disturbance of the dead air itself may have tipped the scale for the collapse, but it seems, to his untrained eye, that it was a ... clock-slide, so to speak. He makes sure to scout and does, indeed, espy the sight of the Shrines of Light. He doesn't advance on them, suspicious of their presence because of what he's heard from others about this very problem, and how mimics are so prevalent.     He turns, and only just realizes that the massive clock is near him. It is not a dead clock, but a clock depicting ...     "Yveltal preserve my soul. We need to get back to that library," he utters, upon recognizing the figure.     He climbs up, and up, and up into the air, to read the face of the clock. He beats his wings slowly, grimacing at their aching from the previous battle. Seeing the answer in the form of both hands pointed straight up, he calls back to the scholar.     "No, Enark!" 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' <"... three's not normal, right?"> Standing guard as she is, the Tenno really doesn't have all that much to do save staying alert--and alert she does. Feels like she's got eyes everywhere. Which is funny, since she has no visible eyes. She does pace back and forth a little bit, gently rolling the speargun-looking staff in her hand around and over between her hands. She's still dwelling on what she saw, and what Carna's doing. Maybe not giving Finna as much of a stinkeye as Priscilla is, but definitely watching the fox. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe is concerned for Carna's well being but also sees she's just lost in her own little world for the moment, and it would be best to cover Carna for the moment. She will give Priscilla a look for a moment and then looks back to Carna. With the noise though she's aware something else is going on but not to the nature of what it is, she'll hold watch on Carna for now. She will however take a good look at what's ahead and she listens to what CRow has to say on the magic. "Magic, it divides by zero...wait a fetch quest?! You hgave got to be kidding me." 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' Finna is next seen by anyone looking shivering near the Shrines of Light, gazing on that terrifying mural. Seems she just couldn't keep up her stealth in the face of THAT.     When Enark arrives she springs up to her feet with renewed vigor and interest, but his proposal - being mad - triggers another quiver from her.     "What'll happen if someone wound up that clock?" She posits fearfully. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     "Time left?" Priscilla inquires. "Is it not the purpose of a clock to tell simply what time it is? How wouldst time runneth down on a clock? And time until what?" When people start yammering on about the freaky giant clock and the fact that a ledge just broke, though, she decides it's probably safe to continue on, for lack of any Purifiers coming to check nobody is touching the time pieces. If at all possible, she'll drag the others with her; Carna can read as she goes. If only Staren could plug a memory chip into her brain or something.     Ultimately, Priscilla agrees with Kord. "Yes. I had insisted upon such a while ago, but I assumeth now it to be more than a simple loose end to tie up. Aside from the matter of the 'dragon' and the many unexplored floors . . ." Why does the giant figure nag at her?     Three Shrines. Not this shit again. Already knowing Enark had been here at least once before, Priscilla is not falling for goddamn mimics for the umpteenth time, and chucks one of those little pewter skulls into the middle of the formation. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Enark purses his lips as he receives the news, obviously unhappy, but not surprised. "I thought as much." He answers the question of who the figure is easily, "That is the Primordial Man. Albion. He was the 'other side' in the Battle of the Unmaker, a mythical and historical war between him and almost every god, titans, immortal, Eternal, hero, and so on. Few chose cowardice and hid rather than fight, because if Albion won, there would be no hiding place anywhere or anywhen. Countless beings and concepts died, or were unmade, never again to appear, while those few that survived as scraps of what they once were even now are but mere echoes. I do not cast magic, for example. I simply reuse a spell that has already been cast in the past. The corpse of the arcane, reanimated infinitely by Lumiere, to be spent again and again."     He shakes his head, having explained most of the big deal with the clock on the radio. "I call it the Doomsday Clock, because the first time it chimed coincided with the apocalypse. It seems I named it aptly, as the second time coincided with all life dying." He looks to Finna thoughtfully as she proposes turning back the clock. He starts moving as Carna gets to her feet, looking a bit more cognizant of her surroundings now that she has had the chance to remember who and what she is, and all that has happened. Or most of it. "I do not know what would happen. Possibly nothing. It may have served its purpose already. If it has special powers, then it might 'buy us more time'. It might provide a chance to fix some of what was broken, or to stop the clock at a point before everything ended, if it has some sort of cosmic power of that type. But I doubt we personally have the power available to us to wind the clock again. Even if we had a key, how would we turn it?" He shakes his head and then moves to join everyone as they seem to be heading for the Shrines.     He pauses upon seeing multiples, and waits to see the results of Priscilla's skull throw. "Not in such close proximity, no," he answers Kushiko.     Crow shrugs at Tomoe. "They're just books. How hard can it be to find a book?" Then the Shadow slides off of Enark and closer to the Shrines, as they remain innocently stationary. Crow looks at each in turn, stretching this way and that, demonstrating more of its usual body morphic abilities as some of its energy comes back to it. "They aren't fakes." the Shadow concludes eventually.     Crow's horn-nubs droop a bit. "But something really sad happened here."     Enark frowns as he starts climbing his way up the piles of clocks and the fallen slab of stone from the ledge. "What do you mean?"     Crow shrugs. "I just know." -\_(``/)_//-     Enark considers for a moment whether to ask Crow if it remembers the battle against Albion that it supposedly took part in during a former existence. An existence that seems to be ever more coming closer to the surface. But this is not the time, and there is enough on Enark's mind due to Kord's theory. Not the theory itself, but something ABOUT it... He stands near one of the Shrines. "Crow's word is good enough for me. All aboard. Next stop: Somewhere the hell else." 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord flies away from the clock that tells him the end has already come. But if that is the case, then wouldn't Lumiere already be gone?     Kord flits his way through the incredible dark void with the comfort of an eagle in the blue skies. He realizes how comfortable he is doing this, and frowns to himself. He thinks about the implications behind Albion, and what it might mean for the gods. It meant that the gods, magic, heroes, all of it was at the mercy of the primordial concept of humanity. It meant this whole place was the product of a human touch, in a way. Afterlives don't matter in a realm with no thought. It's all just bits slamming into other bits with nothing to ascribe meaning to it.     "This place will drive me mad."     Some call that enlightenment.     "Shut up, you."     Kord lands near the Shrines of Light. He purposefully waits for the others to leave, first, so that he can stand in the silence and shade by himself for a few minutes. So he can be alone with the dead air. It reminded him of a home he left a long time ago, and he could derive some comfort from that. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "Something BAD could happen too!" Finna wonders aloud... but quickly yelps at Priscilla HURLING something in her general direction. The Fox leap-flips and redirects herself through the air by cracking her tail almost like a WHIP.     The highly acrobatic manuever leaves her seated near Crow, still incredibly subdued from her usual exuberance. Lumiere is simply too terrifying and depressing for her to enjoy herself AT ALL sometimes.     Now is one of those times.     "ALL FOR LEAVING!" She yips in agreement. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Lots to consider in more than a few ways--theories discussed will be analyzed somewhat by the Lotus and for her to digest in full later. What Finna and Carna may--or may not--have been doing. Enark. Crow. All of this feels like it's coming to a head, to a point she can't visualize just yet. Especially with her somewhat mute observation--and recording--of everything she's seeing. Handy thing for later study, perhaps by the others. <"... yes. Let's."> she concludes, a little quieter with what's going on. She'd have to consider her role, her place in all this. Something to meditate on once they're back, safe and sound as she approaches one of the Shrines to use, ensuring everyone's actually, you know. Leaving. She'd be next to last to leave, her faceless gaze on Kord before departing. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "Infinite pages? That's neat, but practically infinite storage space is available with digital devices. We can probably come up with something she can use as a backup." Staren replies. Enark fills them in on the doomsday clock. "I'm not sure we /want/ it to chime again. What's left to happen? Turn all of Lumiere into nothing?"     It's a tense wait for the shrines to be checked. He's aiming his laser pistol at them, ready... but nothing happens. He relaxes a bit, but he still won't be the first to approach the shrines. He's relieved to get out of here, though... "Is summoning me going to be a thing? I may need to find a way to make sure I have some armor here..." 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe Says "How hard? It could be very hard we're going to ahve to see crow." She looks at Crow watching them for a moment and she's pretty sure crows right about them not being fakes She also knows it may be time to go soon. She does pay attention though and stars to understand just how big this mess really is. It's getting into things that are way over her head and she kinda graps it but does get this is serious. She really can't run away now even if she wants to and part of her mind has been going on abotu why does she keep wandering the multiverse? She shuts that voice up and glances back to crow. "I'll take your word for it Crow." She's being serious as well not sassing Crow in the slightest. It's time to get going and she'll follow Enark, she doesn't want to stay here any longer either. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Primordial Man.     Even to the casual observer, something unnatural flickers behind Priscilla's eyes when she hears those words. Something a little more strange than simply her inhuman pupils.     "The library first." she insists, low and steady, after quite a long pause. "We hath not the energy nor the men nor the lack of sense to spread ourselves so thin over so many leads. Asides, this place is inconvenient in the extreme to reach from elsewhere. For lack of reason not, divide thineselves between the shrines, at the very least in pairs. Shouldst one lead somewhere dangerous, returneth along the same track. At least one must lead to the greater network."     Then Priscilla does just that, taking the shrine with the squishiest people involved, being the toughest involved save Tomoe. 
}}

5499/Nine Of Crows

2018-02-02T03:58:25Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/09/29 |Location=Lumiere |Synopsis=In an underground tunnel, fakes battle the real thing, with lives hanging in the balance. |Cast of Character..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/09/29
|Location=Lumiere
|Synopsis=In an underground tunnel, fakes battle the real thing, with lives hanging in the balance.
|Cast of Characters=974, 954, 513, 6, 42, 964, 70
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     When the story left off last time, three natives of Lumiere, Carna, Enark, and Crow, accompanied heavily-armed and powerful Elites in working their way towards what is hopefully an exit of some kind after escaping from Unlit hordes that faced the might of these same adventurers and then kept coming, a bizarre Nameless thing of unknown nature, purpose, or means, and are now in a pipe-like tunnel leading up from an endless abyss run through with structures like the skeleton of a building, the framework of the mechanism that is Lumiere. And they stand face to face with two figures of the past, and one even more familiar due to his appearance being similar to one who stands among them.     Though the actual Kord's face seems to be melting less.     The darkness was pulled back to reveal the sight of Seathe the Scaleless and Rewire, two very dead entities, reanimated in the form of continuously-dripping simulacrums of magical paint. Between them is a similarly paint-dripping Kord.     After declaring their intent of hostilities, the first act is for the Unpainted Kord to sweep a hand out and restore the darkness he had peeled away... Plunging anyone without adequate senses or nightvision blind, and turning the Shadow named Crow utterly helpless with no light to be cast by     This also covers the wires that reach out through the air, seeking flesh to dissect, and the crystallizing breath that spews forth in great gobs of paint, sweeping from one side of the tunnel to the other.     As first moves go, it's a pretty good one.     Carna rolls towards the last seen position of the one responsible for the darkness, lashing out to the best of her ability with a blade on a chain.     Crow wails against its inability to act.     Enark stands at the back and starts trying to throw water shields on people and hoping he's getting his allies instead of his attackers. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord was not expecting that.     After being shaken by the horrors above, he saw the doppleganger -- the impression of his presence in Lumiere made manifest -- and grimaced behind his mask. Not only did he find the similarities repulsive, that repulsion folded in on itself when he realized it embodied a healthy chunk of his worst qualities. It was a selfish being with nothing to fight for but itself, it didn't even have a common people or allies in the traditional sense. And that... bothered him, to the point he barely moved until after the darkness swept over everything.     Kord roars in the dark, and there's a sudden reminder that a copied being has nothing on the original. He still sees Unpainted Kord after the darkness falls, and he completely overlooks all other threats in the face of such a being.     He lunges. His wings beat, and his power over darkness launches him forward at incredible speed. He reaches one of his hands out and the dark solidifies around Unpainted Kord to make something of a tunnel to try and funnel his target. His intent is to grab his doppleganger by the chest, lift him up and slam him down with stone-cracking force into the floor, but the maneuver is direct and fueled by a deep-seated hatred. There's a narrow window to get out of the way, but just the swipe of Kord's hand is as dangerous as a dragon's claws.     Kord has collected a smattering of crystalline dust on his body from the nega-Seath's attack, having narrowly avoided getting skewered by the brunt of it, sparkling paint dripping off of him. He's hurt, that much is clear, but that hasn't done much to slow him down.     "IMBECILE!" 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' This is NOT a good situation. How Finna would love to CUT and RUN. Her body goes into shakes and shivers as the trio of MONSTERS emerges from the darkness. All dripping paint. All looking murderous. All looking quite weird and beyond dangerous!     Yeah. She would easily run. Except...     There's nowhere TO run.     Darkness doesn't bother her, save for when it's absolute. The little white fox's eyes are perfectly suited for night time.     The thought of making use of the darkness herself and staying hidden, to strike unseen, does occur to her... but with Enark throwing spells around in a blind panic and Crow wailing, she steps forward and---     SHINE ON, SHIMMERING MOONLIGHT!     Waves of cooly-blazing, drifting, wafting purples, blues, and light silver-blues burst like an oil-soaked thatch hut struck by a match. The light carries a feeling of fresh, cool breezes and the damp air of a spring night...     And it also frames an explosive transformation, the tiny fox rising up to its feet and filling out with human-like form. Finna - now a seven-foot tall, sleek but muscular Snow Fox woman with silvery shining claws and fangs - rapidly drops into a combat stance. Sleek, dense, lithe muscles ripple and tighten with building savage power.     Wires worm and snake about through the air towards her, but she springs left and right and zigs and zags like a meteor when they get near.     Finna, it seems, is currently trying to get them to chase her and tie themselves into knots...     "Now what?! As if this place wasn't bad enough!!" 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' The unpainted Kord worries her a lot given how the unpainted Staren was and in the back of her mind she wonders is there a version of /her/ like that running around? It's not a comforting thought to Tomoe but there's little comfort in this world she's in. She watches at the ready with sword out and she watches for half a second she sees the paint coming after them. She will attempt to try to avoid it and also move to follow up Carna she chants again. The Nordic is badly butchered but it does it's thing. She'll fire bolts of light into the Darkness having the same idea as Carna more or less. Though it may seem that she should be aiding Enark and Crow soon. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Unfortunately, 'heavily-armed and powerful' doesn't apply as much when you get summoned from the middle of Lunch rather than in your gear.     Staren doesn't stare in disbelief -- this isn't the first time an enemy has thrown the specter of Wireless at him -- but he does look surprised that the doppelgangers could have even found out about his old friend.     Without his armor, he doesn't have sensors ready that can see in darkness. As he fumbles to pull the 'flipphone' device from his pocket, his forcefield activating is the only warning he gets that he's under attack. The crystals and wires trying to pierce it shatter it (and there's a loud POP and some smoke from Staren's bandana where the forcefield projector is hidden,) but at least it bought Staren enough time to turn and run behind the others. "Rewire only wanted to help people! To fix their problems!" At least he's not blind now, the device using ultrasound and, if applicable, non-visible spectrum light to give him something to see. "These are just images, you don't even know what you're imitating!" Not having his heaviest weapons doesn't stop him from running his mouth!     And Finna provides a way to see... As soon as he sees what she's doing, Staren shouts "That won't work! Use magic attacks!" Well, maybe. Who knows if these imitations share Wire's intelligence OR his weaknesses?     Tomoe! There's the tank he can hide behind! Taking cover behind the salamander, he reaches into his bag and pulls out what /looks/ like an ordinary pistol, trying to fire around her at the Rewire clone. The bullets are charged with explosive magic! The raw power alone isn't as good as his laser pistol, but now he can find out if that magic weakness still applies... 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Of things one might expect here, the simulacrums, the total combination of it all, from the darkness to the imitation of Kord to Seath and this... Rewire? She didn't know him or it, whatever that was, though Seath was, frankly, /Seath/, and even if she didn't know explicitly, the breath and wires are enough of a thing to just kind of hammer the 'threat' rating until broken. And in response, there can be only one thing. Amidst the darkness, Valkyr--not Kushiko--screams. That echoing, resonant sound that is /felt/ as much as it is heard as the strange Void essence is wreathed around her. Senses of the Tenno, as does much of her, simply do not behave in the normal way, and in response to the endless storm of wires that seek flesh and metal to rend alike does the now glowering, glimmering figure of unparalleled violence join the fray. And join the fray with aplomb, brightly glowering lilac talons of energy seeking straight up to simply /shred/ and cut those wires when they seem to grow tightest, to use their tension against them (potentially) so they simply couldn't tangle up afterwards. She's not solely focused on just cutting, however, weaving forward in an advance to offset what's covering the field before suddenly bolting through the air given Staren's words. <"Define magic then!"> the operator quickly remarks--given what the Tenno is, 'magic' may well be an excellent way to describe her Void-gifted abilities; just 'technology' that she inhabits is a very advanced form of it. Maybe. Either way, Seath and his breathing on the others is something she cannot immediately assail just yet, instead seeking to straight up pounce the originator of those wires in Rewire. Or Wireless. Whomever. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Priscilla, when she had released her painted self from her torment some time ago, had expected her involvement with the bastard Tharmas to be effectively over. Seeing what lies ahead of her in that dark tunnel not only proves her worryingly wrong, but instantly opens her mind to a much, much larger list of other concerning possibilities.     Fortunately, she had already run into this tunnel invisible. If some mockery of Seath is here, there was probably already, on some strange and conceptual level, an understanding that she'd be here as well, but painted Kord, and Rewire (whom she doesn't recognize) wouldn't know that, and well, Priscilla got /pretty damn used/ to avoiding her blind dragon dad's notice for several years. With the same blood and the same magic running through her veins, she doesn't /particularly/ feat his crystal breath, especially not with the aid of Moonlight, so . . .     "Leaveth the dragon to mineself." she says, hushed and strained over the radio. Carrying the scythe in one hand, Priscilla stealthily summons Moonlight to the other, its ethereal glow dissipated by her invisibility. She moves swiftly through the shadows cast by the painted Kord and Finna's anima light, warding away the painted breath with the sword made from the real Seath's soul, and circles behind to swing her scythe through the doppleganger's rear-most tail and see what it's really made of. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "I dunno, he didn't exactly let me run a bunch of tests!" Staren shouts to Kushiko. "I used bombs made from crystallized water and fire energy!" 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Unpainted Kord leaps up and over Carna's blind sword attack, though is then caught in midair by sizzling laser beams from Tomoe that mark him even before the darkness is shed, but not before Kord comes charging in. Rather than trying to evade, he spins his scythe into place to try to block the attack, and winds up being hammered into the tunnel floor as a result, paint bleeding from 'wounds' like tears in a canvas. The Unpainted Kord's eyes glow red with a fearsome stare that seeks to keep Kord from pulling away, challenging him to remain locked in battle, and promising retribution if the demi-god retreats, with a Mean Look.     His paint-dripping cloak coils inwards, then, forming into an almost venus flytrap-like double-raw of spikes aimed at real-Kord's back even as he oozes into the crater formed in the floor by his own body.     Thankfully, Carna's sword slices back as it returns to her, retracting on the chain, and cutting one row of cloak spikes. And with the light provided by Finna, a water shield soon encompasses Kord even if he doesn't fight off the escape-impairing glare.     Tomoe, Staren, Finna, Carna, and Kushiko soon have similar shields to soak damage with. Priscilla doesn't because she's invisible, which is about as troublesome for targetting allies with as being in total darkness. "Must we do this!?" Enark calls out as he finishes his chanting, agreeing with Staren (probably??) that there is something wrong with this scenario on many levels.     Crow is exposed again by the light that Finna produces, and lets out a, "Yaaaaaay!" =:D But then the light is so bright that it sends the shadows all over and further up the tunnel, displacing the Shadow from the battle. "Nooooooo!" D:=     The wires are made of paint, so even as Kushiko severs them easily with her weapons and skills, sending them splattering on the floor, they just reform from the leftover cut ends, and even split into more wires, bifurcating each time to increase the number of weapons there are to dodge. Fake-Rewire does seem to be preoccupied with Finna mostly, though now also Kushiko since there's more wires to take people apart with. Finna mainly because she's acting as a light source that is helping those who don't have night vision or super-sensors, Kushiko because she's interfering.     Which leaves him open to Staren's pistol which blows huge holes in the Rewire duplicate, sending it splattering everywhere, in what would be a grisly death for something of flesh and blood, and even for something made of paint, it is plenty gruesome with how deformed fake-Rewire's body has become.     Whether it's the magic or the explosives that did it, the simulacrum doesn't appear to be prepared to fight any further until getting more of itself together. But then Kushiko pounces the golem and sends it scattering a dramatic red and black *SPLAT* across the tunnel walls and floor. One down... 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     As Priscilla deals with the dragon, countering the breath attack, and then moving in to sever a tail, the appendage writhes after being severed only to disintegrate, as a new tail starts to form in its place. An arm sweeps outwards to one side, and then the other arm to the other, while turning and trying to isolate the location of the one who inflicted this damage. The roar of Seath reverberates through the tunnel, even if it sounds as though it comes from under some viscuous liquid. If sorcery and intelligence were characteristics of the original, this one has yet to demonstrate much if anything in that department. It is a creature in the image of the original, just as the false-Rewire was. Just like Staren said. These are not the dead brought back to life, but facsimiles drawn imperfectly from memory, from artistic effort to paint those destined to come here, who just... Never did.     But why THESE two? Are there prophecies for them too? Or were they torn from the memories of the countless iterations of these six as they were reborn over and over and over? Could ANYONE they once knew be here as a distorted, shambling homunculus, betraying all that the original stood for?     Definitely things to consider.     But a more pressing concern suddenly presses down on them, as a cube of glowing green light forms around Crow at the periphery of the battle, sending the Shadow into a black ball with a face on it in the center of the cube. Who did that? Does the real Kord have an ability like that? Is that Imprison? Or what? Two times now, tactics designed to keep Crow out of the fight have been employed.     What the hell is going on exactly? 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Compared to her static duplicate, Priscilla finds what her scythe bites into . . . lacking. It's confusing, but perhaps not totally unexpected. After all . . .     "Why here and now? What theme wouldst draw these disparate mockeries together, and why wouldst they be placed in our way at this point, of all places? There wouldst seemeth to be no sense in their appearance, and no significance in their timing, as well that no elements of their stories seemeth to follow them." That last part works just for her. Tracking down some kind of painted Primordial Crystal would be a nightmare, were that kind of thing possible.     Crow again, though? "Can anyone maketh out from whence the spell cometh?" she asks out loud. "And is Sir Enark able to do anything about it? I ill like the idea of being made to chase a captive Shadow again." Down come the big dragon arms, lashing about in huge sweeps to either side. Priscilla crosses her sword behind her scythe haft and absorbs the blow with a hard brace and a hefty 'whumph', launched a considerable distance, but bouncing off her feet and coming to a slide instead of breaking her arms. She's grown much stronger since last she fought the white dragon, and this one seems to be far lesser.     With that confidence in mind, she dives straight back into the fray, going up a yomi level and running at the painted Seath's front rather than trying to take a flank, where retaliation would be more expected. Invisibly, she takes her true size as she runs, eyes up to the level of the white dragons' chest, and this the shrieking arc of her scythe dances to take his arm off at the shoulder, then three wings off at the other, and then his skull at the neck, sparking faintly against the walls at the extreme edges of its movements. 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' "N-Noticed that!" With the wires being made of GOO... Finna's noticing they're not exactly getting terribly tangled. They're focused on her, sure, but not getting tangled. Focused on her though, does mean they're less focused on other people. Good enough compromise for the short term, right?     If she wasn't so nimble and quick, and wasn't a Lunar, the thoughts raging in the foxgirl's mind right now would be enough to slow her into suffering a grisly fate. As it is... she's putting her everything into dodging, weaving, and twisting her body in strange contortions that just don't look AT ALL comfortable... To an extent? They don't even look possible, on occasion. Joints shouldn't bend like they do when she flips, zigs, and zags...     And the most prevalent thought that comes to mind is, "WHY WERE THESE WAITING FOR US?!" A thought punctuated by a swing of her arm that sends a half-dozen KNIVES FROM NOWHERE flying at the paint-Wire Core, each dangling on a faint, nearly invisible silvery thread of her own. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord locks eyes with the Unpainted duplicate. The spattering of paint across his body from the impact marks him with more oozing black, which he dutifully ignores. He had, somewhere in the middle of this, placed his weapon back in its holster, because he is about to get hands-on here. He almost gets skewered by the spikes, but his wings promptly jerk into place to take the brunt of the impalement. He tenses in visible pain, and blood sprays off of him, but he can only growl like the dark-aligned half-monster he is.     He makes no attempt to flee.     Instead, a terrible power surges through his body, and then... he stands up, and grasps an invisible weapon overhead, and swings it down. As he does, an incredible blast of wind emits from all directions around him, but especially in front of him, aiming for the center of Unpainted Kord's mass. The wind cuts like a powerful magic sword, blasting a groove in the floor several feet deep, and sending dust and debris far into the air. He doesn't usually use these abilities, but he knows he'd be somewhat resistant to anything dark-type. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' It's probably a very good thing that Valkyr was wreathed in that damage nullifying measure of Hysteria--with the way the paint-like things were simply being made into more, there's little point in actually trying to cut them anymore directly. <"Noted,"> she dryly remarks in that continually odd manner of hers. Though she /can/ take a hit, she saw no point in taking too much of them, blood flaying out through the seams in between the curious technorganic shell of hers as she closes in on Rewire. One thing /can/ do, however, once she's closed in on Rewire more directly--is to loose another howling war cry--one that is heedless of shadow and simply blankets the immediate area with a twofold effect: increasing how fast one attacks by melee while doing the inverse to others. Nominally, Finna should be the best one affected by this, but if Staren and Tomoe are anywhere near (though probably not Priscilla and Seath, Kord and Not!Kord) it may do some good to swing the tide. It's the kind of thing that'll help render the golem into so much red and black that one might think it were a Jackson Pollock. Flicking her hands to whick the goop off her claws, she quickly turns about to regard where Crow's been so rudely made into a fidget cube. She'll leave Finna, Tomoe and Staren to hopefully help out Kord some as she will attempt to simply /break/ that cube--the use of the otherworldly void claws of her Hysteria aspect may help in this. Or maybe not. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Seeing the paint creatures take damage leaves Staren more in doubt over whether original 'weaknesses' matter... It doesn't really matter much now, anyway, as they're clearly able to dispatch these things by raw force.     A bunch of things happen -- Kord faces off against 'himself', Priscilla faces off against Seath while pointing out that SOMETHING may be trying to steal Crow from them. He starts considering how to try and save Crow, but, Valkyr's probably got it... so, continuing to hide behind Tomoe, he fires more explosive bullets at Un-Kord, hoping that the force generated will be devastating to the paint! 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe keeps her eyes on the target as her lasers more or less strike home but is it enough to stop them? No but it's clearly effected them in some fashion. She will have otbe ready for things to get worse as she moves to track the unpainted Kord she will be in for a hell of a fight, and the shield does help her a good deal. She is going to try to go in though she's got a blade and it's time to put the Dawn-breaker to use as she makes a rush for the unpainted again she wonders about what others might have been copied here and she will keep fighting as Staren takes out the Rewire copy. Not that she knows anything about them but it's one less foe to deal with. She's going to have to make ready as something else seems to be happening but she calls out to Finna. "This isn't the first time wer run into things like this!" She feels the effect from Kushiko's ability and he attacks speed the heck up as she will make another go for the faux Kord with her blad einto a brutal rapid combo of sword strikes. She'll also make sure she will always be in the line of fire between Not Kord and Staren. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Fake-Seath is torn apart by full-sized Priscilla's blades, even as the dragon tries to breathe out his crystallizing paint breath at point-blank range into whatever is front of him. But in the end, as his head is severed from his neck, the construct begins to just fall apart and melt into a huge mound of paint that will no doubt turn into a vast puddle.     With dragon down, android down, and Unpainted Kord seemingly on the ropes as he is blasted with the air sword, Carna firing off several crossbow shots under the influence of Kushiko's Hysteria into the paint golem, Enark dousing Kord in healing magics for the injuries suffered, Staren's explosive shots doing a number on the doppelganger (though possibly requiring more healing magic to be dumped on Kord if he's too close when they go off), and then Tomoe driving in to send a frenzy of sword slashes into the creature... Well, it may appear that the fight is done. No one is left standing, right? Now to just resolve the matter of crow and--     The various puddles of paint ripple for a moment, and then draw inwards, flying through the air to mix together and form a coating like a huge black hand over the glowing green cube. Finna's strikes against it before resulted in a powerful repulsion effect, but now as a sheen of black forms with a face not like Kord's but perhaps more like the helmet he wears, even the option of striking it is complicated.     The metallic-black paint rises up into Unpainted Kord again, now standing atop of the cube through which occasional shafts of emerald light shine through the substance coating it.     "Excellent," the not-Kord says. "You've proven your power is worthy enough to serve me. But now, can you provide your wits?" The paint segments itself, turning into nine different rectangles, lined in green light. Each one has a different face upon it much like Crow's.     =:D        D:=        =:>     -\_(``/)_/-        >:E        =:<     =:|        =:/        =:o     Unpainted Kord says, "One of these is an expression your companion has never made. Choose the correct card, and it will go free. Choose incorrectly, and you will join it inside this prison until or unless someone else chooses correctly." 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     The feeling of murdering Seath again is, to say the least, less cathartic. Whether it is simply because the painted abomination is a mere mockery, or whether Priscilla feels as if she has truly, holistically moved past his presence in her life, even she doesn't fully know, but the impression is little enough that the unpainted Kord dominates her attention instead of the thought of it.     "Serve thee? A jest poorer than any one I hath ever heard made by the man thou hast failed to live up to. How wouldst thou even knoweth the answer to such a question? I little believeth the idea that somehow thou hast been everywhere Sir Crow hast, and even then, expecteth any one of us hath watched him at every moment." She points to the >:E face. "In all mine time with him, I hath never seen such a face of aggression from the innocent creature, and yet, how wouldst thou knoweth that, stalker and outsider?" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "Ugh, it's reforming..." And then it's Kord again. Seriously? It STILL thinks they'd serve it? Staren raises his pistol to blow it away again, while thinking about how to destroy the paint for good -- would fire work? -- when Priscilla of all people actually takes the bait and plays the game presented to her. What the hell? Still, he'll hold off on shooting to see how her choice plays out.     Also, because he can, he has Dawn search all the times he's seen Crow. Hmm, four of those expressions don't show up. So the test is basically rigged anyway... just as he expected. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord has his wits about him, and launches up into the air to turn and look upon the duplicate with all of that paint dripping off of him. The healing water spell gets a momentary distracted glance for Enark's sake, acknowledging the source of it. He doesn't thank the poor man, though. He wouldn't have asked for help anyways. He chuckles quietly at the bizarre game that the duplicate has turned this encounter into, because it does remind him of home. Leaders in his world do like their absurd little trials.     He turns his head to watch Priscilla after she makes her decision. "He might not know," he offers, "Because magic does not always rely on what one knows." He makes a gesture to the box and cards. "This is clearly magic." 

:'''{{#var:513|Finna (513)}} has posed:''' With things calming down, Finna does a few backflips and lands stunningly away from the one Unpainted who survives the skirmish proper: not-quite-Kord. When she lands and comes to a halt she's still a-blaze... and with one twitch of a wrist she retrieves ALL the tossedknives. They whip back to her on spider-thin threads that dissolve as rapidly as she prestidigitates(?!?!?!) the knives out of sight with another wrist-flick... where DID they go?     The glowing Lunar's looking unamused and quite uncooperative at the puzzle being shown though. She hasn't seen enough of Crow to get much of a judgement of him...     "Awfully interested in our traveling companion!" She remarks pressingly. "Like you know something about him. I smell a mystery!" 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Though she does not have the tangible memory of her former Orokin masters, the fake Kord strikes enough of a chord that there's absoutely no way that she'd even entertain the thought. The eyeless figure practically seethes with a cold violence that sloughs off her like a hazy smoke. Given her attack went otherwise falling flat, she seems content, for now, to abdicate the decision, though the smooth 'face' seems to indicate the same choice of >:E as did Priscilla. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Unpainted Kord is what seems to be all that remains. at this point and it's not going to be for very long as the party cuts him down and she seems that her last attack combo helped to finish it off. but then the paint is changing it's morphing and she takes a step back from it. She looks at what comes from the paint and she looks at the not-Kord for a moment. "Serve you? Sorry I'm not kneeing to you." Tact? What tact? She also looks at the puzzle for a moment an sighs a little bit as she stars trying to think it over, she was the sort to just blow up the wall rather than deal with an overly complex switch puzzle or anything like it. She starts to think but she also looks over to Staren and Priscilla. Maybe they have a better idea or perhaps Kord might or even the Kushiko might too. However she eoesn't want to lose Crow to this thing either. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Unpainted Kord calls down chidingly as though speaking to someone very young, "I have the creature right here to pull memories from. I know who has been present to see which expressions." He does not answer other questions asked of him, seemingly content to watch in amusement and not give too much explanation that could lead to unravelling things. No indication of the interest in Crow, or any of the other mysteries. When Priscilla points at the face with >:E, Unpainted Kord asks, "Is that your choice?"     Carna's eyes dart furtively over the cube, not examining the cards, but rather looking for any weak point. She appears to also be of the 'look for a way to kill the enemy' school of thought, like Staren, but given the fluidity with which this opponent moves, the way it can reform itself, even if she struck it down, would that truly defeat it? Also, who knows what would happen to Crow if they disrupted that container. Maybe it would just shut off the light, freeing Crow.     Or maybe it would do something insane they aren't expecting. If collapsing the tunnel on not-Kord and Crow would benefit them in any way, she might just go for that. But their exit would then be even more blocked than it is now.     She doesn't like not being able to just stab the problem into submission.     Enark stands by, regaining his composure as much as he can after the fight has finished, looking to anyone in need of aid and finding most fine for now. Fine except for Crow. Enark remembers when he was first burdened with the keeping of the Shadow. That he did, at the time, see it as a burden. An intrusion upon his research and his 'life'. But such reluctance born of isolation was gradually shed, and he found himself appreciating having someone around to talk to again. No longer was he lonely. Certainly, all the others, even Carna, are a nice change from eternal imprisonment by himself (with a mimic chair). But they had their own lives, their own goals, their own homes. Crow had been his little shadow in many ways.     And in all that time, Enark had never once seen a face like the one Priscilla pointed to and the Valkyr emulated in its face plate.     Besides, it doesn't have Crow's ear-horns.     Enark steps forwards and says, "As the one who has spent the most time with Crow, I confidently choose the center face."     Unpainted Kord asks teasingly, "Are you suuuure?"     Enark stands up straight, brushing off his robe, and then says, "I am sure." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     There is a dramatic pause. Then Unpainted Kord says, "That... Is the correct card."     Enark trembles with relief, though he tries to contain it, and keep looking strong.     Unpainted Kord says, "And now... I will set IT free." He raises his taloned hands and laughs as the adjoining cards flow inwards to the center one, causing it to bulge and mass together. And then it lances outwards, a simulacrum of Crow, bearing a face with angry 'eyebrows' and sharp teeth... And so very many painted spears, which run directly through Enark's torso and out the other side.     The Blue Scholar staggers in shock, looking down at his injury, more surprised than pained. And then up to the fake of his friend, the one to deal this deadly blow.     The real ball of shadows at the center of the cube begins boiling and bubbling, trying to fight against its own nature to break free, as Crow's voice, distant and muted, lets out a chorus of screaming 'NO's from within its prison.     Unpainted Kord calls out, "Sorry. You have failed the test of wits. I can not accept you as my vassals." He is met with a hail of crossbow bolts from Carna, and who knows what else from everyone else. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord watches, suspiciously, something like amusement in his heart over the twisted game they've been forced into. He hadn't continued his attack because the magic would endanger Crow... momentarily, Kord wonders why he cares that shadow would be endangered, settling mentally on 'that is MY shadow puppet.'     He flinches when Enark is attacked. The attack was not expected, not after he heard that it was the correct card. But he remembers this is a copy of him. He might've done the same to his enemies... The thought infuriates him, because it once again reminds him of the proverbial corner his life has forced him into. He moves once again with swift and dark power, like a flash step to clear the distance, almost like teleportation, and he already has his scythe swinging. As he does this, he screams at the others, "REPAIR THE SCHOLAR!!!"     He vanishes the moment Unpainted Kord might try to evade to try and hit him from another angle, snapping through the shadows with absurd speed. The slash emits a half-circle wave of black energy crackling with red electricity, a magically enhanced slash that can easily kill any mortal man, and do serious harm to anything stronger than that.     BOOM! 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     It also occurs to Staren that maybe, just maybe, the real test of wits is to see if anyone is smart enough to NOT play the game. But that feels off somehow.     Turns out to be right, though. He starts firing at Fake Kord as soon as Fake Crow starts moving... but then is given something else to worry about.     Moving into position so that Not-Crow isn't between him and Enark, his hand dips into his bag with the handgun, and comes out with another, looking like an oversized revolver -- but not the Annihilator, and it has an arm brace -- which he fires at Not-Crow. Another of Morg's inventions, it hits like a supercharged shotgun. Staren's just going for impact force here, trying to knock Not-Crow away so others can engage it or, preferably, splatter it across the wall. Either way, he moves up to Enark to administer bandages and healing potions. "Hang in there!" 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Not a single solitary word comes from Valkyr. From Kushiko as close as she is. She feels it, senses it, and it's the merest flicker, the tail of the Warframe spasming and twitching just so. The untold, unimaginable and nigh incomprehensible force of the Void gathers itself to answer Unpainted Kord's actions. Not with words. The sound of rage and fury however, is another matter altogether. She hurtles forward. With Fervor and Rage did she cross the distance in a blink of an eye. The claws her hands bore were hazy in a sense, energy roiling about, making the very air itself thick with light that seared at the senses with nearly blinding light. As the true Kord made his presence known, she gave to it the only thing she could in this state.             Madness. Spinning kicks, headbutt, pivoting and smashing, every single muscle, every single limb is nothing short of a weapon in this state. She will not stop, she simply /cannot/, because something like her does not tire, does not become winded. Only death will satisfy her, of this Unpainted Kord and whatever it was that brought him here. Because it isn't just Valkyr's howl of rage. It is, uniquely, the sound of Kushiko, the child and the tortured soul within. As one. This might be troubling to say, Priscilla who knows enough of her, and possibly others. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Of course it's the right answer. As if Priscilla would ever forget something like that. Her memory is long and sharp, and though she may not show it, she pays great care to those who depend on her. Which happens to include Einar. So when the arrogant piece of shit she already condemns thinks he's achieved clever wordplay by being wilfully obtuse, and then dares to harm one of her own, Priscilla will tolerate him no further.     "That is well enough." Priscilla seethes, her voice as cold as the ice of the Painted World and sharp as the edge of her scythe. "For I cannot accept thee as something that continues to exist." A cruciform blaze of light flashes from her eye, scouring space so thoroughly that the blowback of howling wind tosses her hair and ripples through her dress, scorching every surface with the peeling heat of malevolence so furious and hateful that it physically burns. The weave of reality screams like steel coming apart at the seams; like something being atomized in the well of a black hole.     The full power she had taken from Kalameet blasts the false Kord head on, warping space and gravity down the length of the passage, and seizing hold of what it catches in a grip so comprehensively crushing that not even liquid could flow from it. The false Kord, the perverted mockery of Crow, even the cage that holds the true article. Her stare /sears/ its brand into the paint's very substance, which no change of shape can shed, stripping away the protections it creator had afforded it, and rapidly scouring away the possible realities in which it escapes what comes next without real and grievous harm. 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Tomoe is going to watch the puzzle play out and she sees as Enark picked the right card and Crow ends up hopefully get it free. That does not happen she's not fast enough top stop it. Now a rage fills Tomoe as she gets her blade ready but it's not in time she's moving but she's not quick enough as the Blue Scholar takes an attack she can not block. "I WILL NEVER BE YOUR VASSEL!" She lunges at the false Kord and intend to try and bisect them with her blade and when she gets in close she chants as the spell finishes she notes. "BURN!!" Okay Tomoe may have lost it or is on the verge of losing it. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Kushiko's attack blasts apart Unpainted Kord even as he tries to pool himself to block the crossbow bolts that turn his painted wings into a pincushion. More paint flows up from the glowing green cube to replace that eradicated by the power of the Void, only to meet Kord's scythe slashes as the doppelganger tries to react in time, and gets a searing line carved into its back. And then dozens of other places. Unlike when others injure him, the paint doesn't just splatter (or disinteagrate, such as has occurred with the Valkyr's attack) when Kord hits it. Instead, the paint peels away, to expose strips of almost paper-like material, like shredded canvas.     Kushiko's follow up of frenzied attacks, paired with Kord's give little time for the fake to respond except to draw himself up onto the ceiling and then send out blades of painted shadow. But with how fast his opponents are moving, and having to deal with two of them, it is sketchy whether any of them will find their mark.     The fake-Crow grinning viciously, morphs itself into a wave of shadowy knives as it rushes towards Staren, the shot blasting a hole through its painted form that probably would have been less than effective if that were actually real shadow. But it seems to be plenty effective, creating an opening to reach Enark through as the Scholar slips off the spears and onto the ground, a hole big enough to stick one's arm through in the center of his chest. "I-it's okay. It's worse than it looks! I mean it's--" he coughs, the lack of needing lungs to breathe not exactly negating the lack of lungs needed to speak with. As Staren sets to work trying to tend to Enark, he may notice the surprising lack of blood. Also, the injury seems very smooth. Did the spears just scrape everything dangly free or...?     Enark's eyes widen as he looks up and behind Staren, trying to mouth a warning.     The fake-Crow's body starts to close down on Staren like a huge set of jaws.     While this has been going on, the cage holding Crow has been steadily suffering micro-fissures along its interior as the ball of Shadows practically vibrates, thrashing against the light and building in intensity. When Priscilla's power brands the cage, the not-Crow, and the not-Kord, a series of events occur rapidly.     The not-Kord fumbles his attack, and the attacks already hitting him hit even harder. He stops morphing his body to respond to attacks, and just takes them as though, in his spread-out, partially-destroyed state, he had suddenly been rendered flesh and blood. Viscuous black fluid vomits from his injuries under the pummeling.     The not-Crow halts its own attack against Staren in pain and confusion.     And the cube holding a god cracks and breaks as a gigantic, golden, armored hand and arm tears forth, filling the tunnel with a pale radiance, accompanied by a single word in a voice only four present have heard come from the normally high-pitched and childish Shadow.     "NO! 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Crow's hand seizes not-Crow and smashes it into the tunnel wall, driving the demi-liquid creature's face and form across the unforgiving stone, tearing huge chunks of it free, rending steel supports, and then pausing as the rest of Crow, now visibly a much more stark and solid form than has ever before been witnessed, express pure rage that makes the 'mean' expression of fake-Crow look no more fierce than a scowling child.     Molten golden light shines forth from slitted eyes, and a jack-o-lantern mouth of sharp points. All up Crow's arm and into its torso, there is golden armor with the imagery of a crescent moon upon it, with a coating of black, shadowy skin sizzling and burning on the surface. A film of dark flesh over a shell of divine power.     Then Crow forces the cube open as its other hand and arm emerge, maintaining their flexible, shadowy nature and pulling the Shadow's full body out of its confinement. By this point, fake-Crow has begun to reform itself, though very slowly. It just took double damage from the palm of a god after all.     It rises up from the tunnel's floor just in time for the real crow to blur into position, ramming its other arm through the fake's chest not unlike what it did to Enark, and then compressing its god arm and using it to punch the fake in the face so hard that the paint catches fire and thunder resonates through the tunnel, giving the sound of an angry heaven to supplement the maddened screams of Valkyr, the cold condemnations from Priscilla, and enraged order to provide aid to Enark from Kord.     It's a shockwave enough to make the more lightweight among them who remain on the floor find their feet leavng it. Enark winces as he lands again, and starts pouring healing magic into his own wound to turn Staren's bandages into bindings that wrap around the hole in his body completely, and then start filling it with regrowing soulstuff. Fortunate that the Lit are so resilient to injury. Though if it had been the head instead...     Crow's face, a cruelly twisted shadowy mask of fury and golden light while roughly a third of its body is the armor beneath, issues forth repeated, ferocious rejections of what has happened. "NO! NO! NO!" The arm that is still shadow splits into hundreds of individual tendrils and then uses the light from the god arm to grant the paint-golem a shadow. Then Crow's shadow tendrils seize the paint creature by its shadow all over.     The face of the fake-Crow is no longer mean, but pained, confused, fatigued, looking more like the real Crow's face than Crow's face currently does.     Crow doesn't care. It tears the shadow of its enemy apart and sends individual pieces flying in every direction to smolder and then disintegrate on the floor, walls, and ceiling. 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Tomoe's blade delivers the seeming final blow to not-Kord, as the paint golem staggers on the verge of ruin thanks to the unceasing barrage from Kushiko and the repeated shadow-blinking bombardment of empowered scythe strikes from Kord, turning the creature into so much tattered canvas. The blade strike both pierces him and then makes him erupt into flames. The torrent of fire sends the remnants of Unpainted Kord boiling further up the tunnel to slam into some solid surface or another, before washing back on itself, consuming the decay of ages from the walls and leaving a magical conflagration ahead of the group. Though the flames will likely die out soon enough, in the meantime, searching for anything that might have survived will have to wait.     Enark sits up slowly, offering a hand to Staren to help him, as he looks upon what his innocent, pacifist friend has become.     Still bubbling and sending smoke and sizzling sounds and simultaneously beautiful and yet melancholy light flickering all across the tunnel, the god-beast that Crow has partially became remains hunched over, breathing out steam from its jagged-mouth. And then it searches for more targets. Fake-Kord is done with. Fake-Crow is done with. The cube... Enark is still 'alive'...     Gradually, realization starts to return to the Shadow, just like its shadowy flesh that spreads to contain the light and armor once more, leaving Crow hunched over on the tunnel floor, and still strangely solid-looking, humanoid with legs and all, even after the armor has gone. Crow looks stricken as it gazes upon its taloned hands, upon the smoking points where its own duplicate is embedded in the tunnel. "Oh, no." are Crow's first words. "Oh, no. Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no. What did I do? What did I do, what did I do?" The last of the golden light fades from Crow's eyes as his mouth takes on a drastic form of dismay and distress. "What did I do!?"     Ah. That's right.     This is the first time Crow has hurt anyone. It's also the first time Crow has killed.     And now Crow has made every expression on the cards. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Well, Staren's ABOUT to use the rattler when Crow ascends, somehow, and starts beating the crap out of his doppelganger. No time to stare, got to start healing Enark... Soon thunder's knocking him off his feet and setting those cat ears ringing -- they splay and he moans in discomfort, before Enark helps him up. He turns to look at Crow. "You saved Enark. ...What's wrong?" It's never occured to him that Crow might be a pacifist. Sure, Crow's never attacked the monsters they've fought, but they've all been pretty darn powerful, and aside from that Super Mode that just happened, Crow didn't seem like he /could/ fight such things. But, he admitted to eating people's hands, so as far as Staren knows it's not like he's /never/ violent. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord moved. He swayed out of the way of spikes that narrowly missed because their owner had been smothered in a mountain of rage and calamity. Divine beings of several shapes and flavors make their displeasure known, alongside their mortal companions, spawning looks of awe and startle from Kord... especially when it comes from Crow. Crow's fury makes Kord land, and backpedal a few steps. He watches the animated shadow maim the fake beyond all possible notion that it could've survived the attack, and he puffs a breath, impressed with the events as they unfold even as the dim light slightly blinds him in the contrast with the shadows.     He watches his duplicate smolder and burn, frowning behind his mask.     Kord approaches Crow in the aftermath, and reaches out.     And places his arm right on Crow's elbow, or where it should be. It's a physical touch. He's watched some soldiers go through this same moment, the first time they've killed something is almost universally traumatic, and his touch is just to show that he isn't alone. He doesn't have any words of friendship, because he is bloody terrible at those.     "We have to go," he gently reminds, "This place is not safe." 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' The haze of ultraviolence, while occluding and allowing her to almost completely ignore what few hits Unpainted Kord is able to get out before he meets his well-deserved demise, is also keeping her singularly focused on that for a few moments past what's happening around her. Like with Crow. And Shadow Crow (isn't that redundant?) even as sprays and gouts of ink and 'blood' are rendered like ribbons in the air. It's the voice that pierces the reverie, the battle high for all of a few moments. Recognition of Something Else, though she could not properly address it. She takes advantage of both Priscilla and Kord's actions to simply rip and tear, only halting once Tomoe's blow has finally landed. Then, and only then does she find a moment to let that slaked rage roil and flow off her. Her hands close into fists, letting the claws and Void energy fall off of her, dispersing as she turns her attention to what... the hell is Crow doing. Enark's condition and to that matter Carna too is reconsidered; after all in that battle haze she completely eliminated all other considerations as she steadies herself as best as she can--what with /arms/ coming out of the tunnels. And it's only in mute dumbfoundedness can she simply 'stare' at what fully transpires. What do you even say to reassure someone like that? The child within doesn't know, can only steel and regain her composure. <"He's right. We can talk about what happened when we are all fully safe."> A slight pause. <"For relative definitions of safe."> 

:'''{{#var:6|Tomoe (6)}} has posed:''' Crow just does something she's not sene before they jut utterly lose it and seem to be gaining power from it? She knows the paint golem just takes the wrath of the entire party they do not let up she watches the unpainted Kord boils away and the flames finally dye out, she takes a step back not wanting to get caught in it. She stares with a mic of awe and fear at Crow who has actually killed something and now shes just at a loss for words. 

:'''{{#var:70|Priscilla (70)}} has posed:'''     Orc.     Priscilla had seen this before.     At the Godforge, the most.     Were she in any other state of mind, she might have moved to stop Crow; or rather, to stop Orc, so that he might remain Crow. With fury roused, both cold and hot, her own and the Black Dragon's, instead she only takes satisfaction in the thorough and utter destruction of the intruders who harmed the gentle and helpless dead under her protection. As they have so many times before.     It's only when Crow finally cools down that she does as well, where the baleful light fades, the wind and heat and screaming die down, and then out, and space reasserts its proper dimensions. A while ago, what feels like forever, she had harboured some worries that the Shadow's utter lack of comprehension of harm would come back to bite them; make him dangerous. Now, seeing him realize the magnitude of the act even that the others had taken before him . . .     Priscilla walks up slowly, and gently places her hand on his little black head, patting him between his nubby horns.     "Let us away, brave young Sir Crow. Dwelling upon it now shalt serve us, least of all thee, no purpose. There is a time and a place to cometh to terms, and it is not here." 

:'''{{#var:974|Carna (974)}} has posed:'''     Carna is disappointed by the lack of Dead Lights to consume, but who knows how paint-creatures function. She looks back to Crow, unable to understand what it's going through in the slightest. But seeing that everyone is accounted for, she begins striding up the tunnel, heading for the end of it, and hopefully the way out -- fire or no fire.     Enark looks pained, resting on Staren, and recasting healing magic every thirty seconds or so to keep the restoration effect going. But he mostly looks concerned for Crow. Even as the Shadow is given comfort by others, or simply being reminded that this isn't a safe place, Enark's friend seems to gather itself.     "Yeah." Crow says dully, now fully back to 'Shadow' form, legs gone, physicality absent aside those who can touch shadows. At least there was still some solidity when the pat on the head was delivered. Crow links its 'base' to Enark to make sure to keep a close eye on him, and says nothing further the rest of the trip.     At the end of the tunnel, they find a large vault-like door, similar to the one they used originally to get down here. But it's partially open and what lies on the other side is clearly a different area entirely. It looks... Almost like a junkyard of sorts at first. Dimly lit, though that is hardly new for Lumiere. What is new, however, are the vast variety of clocks, going on further than eyes can see.             NEW AREA DISCOVERED: FIELD OF HANDS 
}}

Perchance To Dream - Dorian Pavus (Carna)

2018-02-02T00:00:27Z

Doctor Doctor:

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/02/01
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=A wizard has a dream.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
Dorian Pavus is in a seat in a huge gallery, listening to a woman at a podium give a speech.

The speech seems terribly important, but he can't seem to focus on it.

All around him are his fellow scholars. Together, they wear the blue robes of their Order.

The robes that mark them as the keepers of knowledge, and those who find it for others when needs be. Knowledge is meant to be shared, not hoarded, after all.

Next to Dorian, Enark leans over to him and says, "I have something to show you when we are done here. A project I have been working on, in my study. Would you like to see?"

Before Dorian can answer, screams can be heard. A great clamour out in the halls beyond the gallery.

Worried murmuring follows as the woman at the podium tries to reinstate order. But when the doors burst open and a flood of black shapes begin to pour into the room, pandemonium ensues.

Everyone stands, stumbles, runs, crawls, or is trampled in the chaos as people try to escape whatever those things are.

Enark grabs Dorian's hand tightly, pulling the other mage to his feet and tries to yell over all the other voices, "Come on! This way!" But they are pulled apart by the crowd as they try to reach one of the exits.

All around, incomplete, shadowy forms pounce upon the other scholars, eating these souls, or slaying them and then absorbing something from within them.

Slaying them! Impossible! They are already Dead!

But they look doubly-so after those lightless things lay their claws and teeth into them.

Doing in moments what the Crimson King himself failed to accomplish over a much longer period of time.

Dorian flees, finding his way into a cramped passage, pushed along on a tide of so many others, until he finds himself in a dark room with many other huddled bodies.

The doors were sealed, locking many others trying to escape outside.

The sound of their screams and begging to be let in gradually fading amidst the sounds of their slaughter.

And so they all waited there, suffocatingly cramped, drowning in fear.

Crushed by dread, and guilt.

Waiting... Waiting...

And then Dorian wakes up.

Perchance To Dream - Dorian Pavus (Carna)

2018-02-01T23:59:48Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Cutscene Header |Date of Scene=2018/02/01 |Location=Fearful Symmetry |Synopsis=A wizard has a dream. |Tinyplot=Return To Escher }} Dorian Pavus is in a seat in a huge galler..."

Perchance To Dream - Kushiko (Carna)

2018-02-01T23:47:48Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Cutscene Header |Date of Scene=2018/02/01 |Location=Fearful Symmetry |Synopsis=A girl has a vision. |Tinyplot=Return To Escher }} Something is hunting Kushiko. Something Bad..."

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/02/01
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=A girl has a vision.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
Something is hunting Kushiko. Something Bad. The same Bad thing she saw when she helped slay the Throne of the Crimson King.

It did things that shouldn't be possible. Tried to crawl up the link between her and her tennou.

But as long as she trusts in the Moonlight, everything will be fine, right?

But what if that's not enough? Is trusting in some unknown force really the right thing to do? Is this 'Mother Moon' really going to protect her?

With the way that she can FEEL something lurking around her in the darkness... Something stalking her, like a tiger on the prowl...

It seems evident enough that as long as she relies only on the Moonlight to protect her, she will always be trapped within the circle of its glow.

There are monsters on the hunt. If she steps one toe beyond the border of the Moon's protection...

She might get dragged away into the Darkness, never to be seen again.

But what can she do against this Bad thing? It makes her FEEL bad just by its proximity. A sickness and unsettling feel in her belly. A chill up her spine.

And in her mind's eye, in this vision, the tiger just keeps on circling.

And circling... And circling...

Until she comes back to her senses.

Perchance To Dream - Tomoe (Carna)

2018-02-01T01:19:28Z

Doctor Doctor:

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/01/31
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=A gamer has a dream.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
Sheena Armstrong dreamt of dragons.

Dragons of all shape and size and description.

All of them flying over her head.

Huge, bat-winged lizards, slender bird-winged serpents, ones that simply slithered through the chaotic skies in an undulating fashion.

Mighty tyrant lizards that charged across the ground, exotic dragon-headed beasts with massive turtle shells for their bodies.

Sea serpents and water dragons that swam through other planes of reality, giving their translucent forms a ghostly appearance.

Every form of dragon imaginable, and many more that had never been seen or conceived of by any human, all charging past her, over her, beneath her, around her.

All of them heading in one direction.

An endless void in the shape of a giant.

A void rife with the purest essence of human malice.

All that beauty, all that majesty, all that staggering power, swallowed up as the dragons threw themselves against a greater, and far more terrible force.

They fought to the best of their mighty forms and abilities, only to vanish forever.

The death of dragons. As a species, as all their myriad races and sub-races, as an entire concept.

The painful realization, that it is a sin born of human wickedness, and nothing more.

A dragon crashes to the ground nearby Tomoe, its flesh stripped, half of it gone, bleeding to death, its massive eye glazed over in pain but staring right at her.

Just from getting too close to the Unshaper.

A woman steps out from behind it. A vaguely familiar one.

She says, "We need to talk."

And then Tomoe wakes up.

Perchance To Dream - Tomoe (Carna)

2018-02-01T01:17:26Z

Doctor Doctor:

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/01/31
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=A gamer has a dream.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
Sheena Armstrong dreamt of dragons.

Dragons of all shape and size and description.

All of them flying over her head.

Huge, bat-winged lizards, slender bird-winged serpents, ones that simply slithered through the chaotic skies in an undulating fashion.

Mighty tyrant lizards that charged across the ground, exotic dragon-headed beasts with massive turtle shells for their bodies.

Sea serpents and water dragons that swam through other planes of reality, giving their translucent forms a ghostly appearance.

Every form of dragon imaginable, and many more that had never been seen or conceived of by any human, all charging past her, over her, beneath her, around her.

All of them heading in one direction.

An endless void in the shape of a giant.

A void rife with the purest essence of human malice.

All that beauty, all that majesty, all that staggering power, swallowed up as the dragons threw themselves against a greater, and far more terrible force.

They fought to the best of their mighty forms and abilities, only to vanish forever.

The death of dragons. As a species, as all their myriad races and sub-races, as an entire concept.

The painful realization, that it is a sin born of human wickedness, and nothing more.

A dragon crashes to Earth nearby Tomoe, is flesh stripped, half of it gone, bleeding to death, its massive eye glazed over in pain but staring right at her.

Just from getting too close to the Unshaper.

A woman steps out from behind it. A vaguely familiar one.

She says, "We need to talk."

And then Tomoe wakes up.

Perchance To Dream - Tomoe (Carna)

2018-02-01T01:15:58Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Cutscene Header |Date of Scene=2018/01/31 |Location=Fearful Symmetry |Synopsis=A gamer has a dream. |Tinyplot=Return To Escher }} Sheena Armstrong dreamt of dragons. Drag..."

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/01/31
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=A gamer has a dream.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
Sheena Armstrong dreamt of dragons.

Dragons of all shape and size and description.

All of them flying over her head.

Huge, bat-winged lizards, slender winged serpents, ones that simply slithered through the chaotic skies.

Mighty tyrant lizards that charged across the ground, exotic dragon-headed beasts with massive turtle shells for their bodies.

Sea serpents and water dragons that swam through other planes of reality, giving their translucent forms a ghostly appearance.

Every form of dragon imaginable, and many more that had never been seen or conceived of by any human, all charging past her, over her, beneath her, around her.

All of them heading in one direction.

An endless void in the shape of a giant.

A void rife with the purest essence of human malice.

All that beauty, all that majesty, all that staggering power, swallowed up as the dragons threw themselves against a greater, and far more terrible force.

They fought to the best of their mighty forms and abilities, only to vanish forever.

The death of dragons. As a species, as all their myriad races and sub-races, as an entire concept.

The painful realization, that it is a sin born of human wickedness, and nothing more.

A dragon crashes to Earth nearby Tomoe, is flesh stripped, half of it gone, bleeding to death, its massive eye glazed over in pain but staring right at her.

Just from getting too close to the Unshaper.

A woman steps out from behind it. A vaguely familiar one.

She says, "We need to talk."

And then Tomoe wakes up.

Perchance To Dream - Captain Flint (Carna)

2018-01-31T00:31:36Z

Doctor Doctor:

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/01/30
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=A captain has a dream.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
The raging seas.

The storms like the wrath of gods.

Unexplored lands with unknown creatures on them.

Whole worlds in the microcosm that is the ocean, waiting to be discovered.

However, the waves are sailed by other ships. Withered and dripping. Pitiless and hungry.

Their only desire to make the living join them.

"Join us, join us." is their chant, in ancient tongues all run together like many rivers emptying into the sea.

Their bare teeth, their skin shimmering in black and green rot. Gnawing the very air as they call out their invitation.

"Join us, join us!"

Things lurk below the water. Not just sunken ships, though there are many of those, but also the things that sunk them.

And the things that made them their homes.

But even deeper, beneath the ocean, is another ocean.

Where the other is stormy, this one is still.

Where the other is gray and green, this one is black.

The other goes on and on without limit, without knowing if one will ever reach shore again if they stray from it.

This one is centered around a single, mighty drowned city, mixing human and inhuman architecture, and the mysteries to be plumbed are in its immediate area...

Down in the deep dark, where Madness lies dreaming in its death-sleep.

But even now, it calls, its influence worming its way upwards, trying to snare unwary souls.

The city is full of secrets, treasures, and the chance to prove oneself stronger than death itself.

So why not just walk out into the waves? Why not just walk out until the black waters engulf you? Flow into your mouth and into your lungs?

Why not just swim down to where the ruins of a dream city lie in utter pitch, and try to slay dead gods?

Why not?

Is it your fear that controls you?

"Join us, join us!" come the cries of crews that have become part of the sea in their long voyage.

COME HERE, says the overpowering command of something ancient and terrible, waiting for the chance when it can walk the world again.

Both are protecting valuable things. If they can be avoided or defeated... Who is to say they could not be yours?

So choose.

Choose which of the Dead Seas you will sail.

Choose who will follow you into Death.

Remember, when you awaken. Because these dreams and visions will not end until you choose.

----

Flint wakes up, and finds his bedding and his body dripping with something cold and rotten. Putrid water.

He hears the cries of his crew, and rushes to look out at the ocean, to find a massive black shape rising up from below the waves, surrounded in a nimbus of dark clouds and flashing lightning.

Powers are on the move.

And then Flint wakes up again.

Perchance To Dream - Captain Flint (Carna)

2018-01-31T00:27:32Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Cutscene Header |Date of Scene=2018/01/30 |Location=Fearful Symmetry |Synopsis=A captain has a dream. |Tinyplot=Return To Escher }} The raging seas. The storms like the w..."

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/01/30
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=A captain has a dream.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
The raging seas.

The storms like the wrath of gods.

Unexplored lands with unknown creatures on them.

Whole worlds in the microcosm that is the ocean, waiting to be discovered.

However, the waves are sailed by other ships. Withered and dripping. Pitiless and hungry.

Their only desire to make the living join them.

"Join us, join us." is their chant, in ancient tongues all run together like many rivers emptying into the sea.

Their bare teeth, their skin shimmering in black and green rot. Gnawing the very air as they call out their invitation.

"Join us, join us!"

Things lurk below the water. Not just sunken ships, though there are many of those, but also the things that sunk them.

And the things that made them their homes.

But even deeper, beneath the ocean, it another ocean.

Where the other is stormy, this one is still.

Where the other is gray and green, this one is black.

The other goes on and on without limit, without knowing if one will ever reach shore again if they stray from it.

This one is centered around a single, mighty drowned city, mixing human and inhuman architecture, and the mysteries to be plumbed are in its immediate area...

Down in the deep dark, where Madness lies dreaming in its death-sleep.

But even now, it calls, its influence worming their way upwards, trying to snare unwary souls.

The city is full of secrets, treasures, and the chance to prove oneself stronger than death itself.

So why not just walk out into the waves? Why not just walk out until the black waters engulf you? Flow into your mouth and into your lungs?

Why not just swim down to where the ruins of a dream city lie in utter pitch, and slay monsters?

Why not?

Is it your fear that controls you, Flint?

"Join us, join us!" come the cries of crews that have become part of the sea in their long voyage.

COME HERE, says the overpowering command of something ancient and terrible, waiting for the chance when it can walk the world again.

Both are protecting valuable things. If they can be avoided or defeated... Who is to say they could not be yours?

So choose.

Choose which of the Dead Sails you will sail.

Choose who will follow you into Death.

Remember, when wyou awaken. Because these dreams and visions will not end until you choose.

Flint wakes up, and finds his bedding and his body dripping with something cold and rotten. Putrid water.

He hears the cries of his crew, and rushes to look out at the ocean, to find a massive black shape rising up from below the waves, surrounded in a nimbus of dark clouds and flashing lightning.

Powers are on the move.

And then Flint wakes up again.

Perchance To Dream - Empty Tidings (Carna)

2018-01-28T00:46:14Z

Doctor Doctor:

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/01/27
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=An infernal has a dream.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
Church bells ring.

Flowers burn.

Church bells ring.

Waterfalls turn red.

Church bells ring.

Streets fill with black shapes.

Church bells ring.

A single priestess tends to a field of graves.

Church bells ring faster and faster and faster.

Distorted figures leap and run and pour over buildings.

The Church Bells go silent as a woman is held by someone in armor.

Then trumpets sound, shrill and brassy and loud, and a giant hand emerges from the world, piercing everything and holding it all so tight, in such an immovable grip, that death is more desirable than that unyielding pressure and control.

Then the angels come.

There is nothing left to die when they are done.

And then Empty Tidings wakes up.

Perchance To Dream - Empty Tidings (Carna)

2018-01-28T00:23:49Z

Doctor Doctor:

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/01/27
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=An infernal has a dream.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
Church bells ring.

Flowers burn.

Church bells ring.

Waterfalls turn red.

Church bells ring.

Streets fill with black shapes.

Church bells ring.

A single priestess tends to a field of graves.

Church bells ring faster and faster and faster.

Distorted figures leap and run and pour over buildings.

The Church Bells go silent as a woman is held by someone in arm.

Then trumpets sound, shrill and brassy and loud, and a giant hand emerges from the world, piercing everything and holding it all so tight, in such an immovable grip, that death is more desirable than that unyielding pressure and control.

Then the angels come.

There is nothing left to die when they are done.

And then Empty Tidings wakes up.

Perchance To Dream - Empty Tidings (Carna)

2018-01-28T00:22:23Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Cutscene Header |Date of Scene=2018/01/27 |Location=Fearful Symmetry |Synopsis=An infernal has a dream. |Tinyplot=Return To Escher }} Church bells ring. Flowers burn...."

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/01/27
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=An infernal has a dream.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
Church bells ring.

Flowers burn.

Church bells ring.

Waterfalls turn red.

Church bells ring.

Street fill with black shapes.

Church bells ring.

A single priestess tends to a field of graves.

Church bells ring faster and faster and faster.

Distorted figures leap and run and pour over buildings.

The Church Bells go silent as a woman is held by someone in arm.

Then trumpets sound, shrill and brassy and loud, and a giant hand emerges from the world, piercing everything and holding it all so tight, in such an immovable grip, that death is more desirable than that pressure.

Then the angels come.

There is nothing left to die when they are done.

And then Empty Tidings wakes up.

Perchance To Dream - Wandering Dog (Carna)

2018-01-28T00:15:02Z

Doctor Doctor: Created page with "{{Cutscene Header |Date of Scene=2018/01/27 |Location=Fearful Symmetry |Synopsis=An exalt has a dream. |Tinyplot=Return To Escher }} A great black beast is chasing someone thr..."

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2018/01/27
|Location=Fearful Symmetry
|Synopsis=An exalt has a dream.
|Tinyplot=Return To Escher
}}
A great black beast is chasing someone through blood-drenched streets.

Running, running.

The smell of death fills the prey's nose, turning their senses inside out with fear and panic.

Everyone is gone.

And now they run, run, run as they are chased. They run desperately.

With nowhere to run.

Lungs burning from the smoke, from exhaustion, they see a church, and they try to make it inside.

Safety at last?

Right before they reach the gates, they see a black-furred monster on the other side of the gates.

They despair.

The moment they truly believe they are about to die, is when they are pierced by Deathly jaws, as those red eyes stare balefully from the other side of the gates.

A dog howls.

And then Wandering Dog wakes up.