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Priscilla     There's a certain atmosphere when the whole process has to be repeated to convene in the throne room. At once, it is almost like nothing had ever happened, and events are repeating in an eerie sort of Groundhog Day time loop, and almost like the level of secrecy involved, nay demanded, means that it has to feel this way. A routine trip by qualified experts who've tackled things all over. Another day for the Arch Lord of Anor Londo.

    The throne room itself is not the same, however. Beyond the doors, which no one now guards, one enters a world cast into silence the moment one opens them, unannounced by even the faintest creak, scrape or groan. When the grand gates swing in like pushing hands through air, a wave of chilling dark washes out, catching one like the equalizing pressure caused by opening the doors to a sauna. Only a few steps across the tiles, and the world plunges into a deep, muted, shadowy mimicry of itself, suddenly impossible to see the hallway only just beyond arm's reach. The giant, white curtains are drawn across the windows, but not even the faintest breeze stirs them, and the light that is intended to go through them fails to appear, making them look more like the cloths used to cover furniture in the long absent house of a dead man.

    The painting is the sole detail more or less unchanged, though it somehow seems even larger in the oppressively quiet dark than before. Only a faint shimmer of deep violet can be seen occasionally passing over its surface, like the reflected light of a slick of purple oil. The picture is unchanged, and now that everyone has had a chance to compare it, it does not represent the contents they had last visited in the slightest.

    Priscilla is present, and prepared to be considerably more informative and cooperative than before. No doubt there is a usual procession of greetings and readies, but she knows that there are questions people need answers to, since last time, and so she tries preemptively answering a couple shortly thereafter, somewhere the most secure that she can think of. Certainly, nobody even just outside the doors would hear, if there was anyone.

    "To see any of thee once more is perhaps more than I should hath hoped for, though I am gladdened to. Thou hast mine apologies for remaining uncommunicative these past few days. There were certain things I wished to be certain of."

    "For those of thee wondering, yes, I too was subject to the same experience as thee, however, I believeth placed at a great distance. As far as I am able to tell, the phenomenon is not at all dissimilar to the summons of a phantom. In fact, it may be an even purer form of the same. Lordran's phantoms hath always been based in the convolution of time and space, and with so severe a knot as this, it is perhaps only sensible that the art wouldst regain the indistinguishable accuracy and ease of the old ages, whence time was new. I cannot, however, vouch that such is entirely safe, and I wouldst wish not to test the safety of such . . . temporal proxy, if it is not even further an insertion of the soul. Proceed as if thou were entirely certain of thine physical presence within the painted world."
Priscilla     "I am afraid, however, that I can be of little use to thee. Mine experience last was that of a ghost; an imperceptible and all but powerless observer. I believeth any other outcome wouldst be impossible, for I was able to see much of mineself of the past. Thus, I do not believeth any sort of travel through time is the correct assertion. The best I am able to theorize is that, with its blood seal finally unbound, in attempting to connect its bonfire with those of the new world, the Painted World is being made to 'catch up', replaying and reliving the extensive length of existence inside of it, in such a way as to achieveth parity and format with Lordran."

    "I believeth any ability to influence its present, now locked away until the centuries art passed, wouldst be extremely limited, however, this time appears to pass at an ever dwindling rate the longer the painting is left without those to observeth it. Having made repeated visits, I hath seen years within pass in the blink of an eye, then slowly, and more slowly, and so I wish to see what becomes of it whence it is visited by others than I once more, and of course, thou art ones of few I wouldst trust with such a task."

    ". . . however, if I may ask one thing of thee, it wouldst be to inquire as thou didst before. To witness the history I never didst. There art, I believeth, key truths amongst them that couldst elucidate why it is that the last work of Ariamis became the way that it is, whether they be moments or symbols or people, and I cannot shaketh the sense that details may be important at a later date. Lastly, perhaps not to attempteth to strain the credulity of continuity so hard. If this is a phenomenon anything like the visitation of memory lent to us long ago by the Ashen Mist, e venture shalt last longer whence ones actions couldst be easily forgotten in history, rather than alter it."

    Sooner or later, there is only one choice. Entering the painting is significantly less dramatic than before. A step through the 'plastic' boundary of the canvas, a long, dark, rushing fall, and then hopefully something more graceful than a faceplant into deep snow.
Priscilla     Corvian Settlement - <Great Painting of Ariamis> (Year AF-1123)
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    Far away from the lonely peak that seems to serve as the center and foci of this painted world, a village unlike any of the others exists, right on the wavering boundary where the limited scope that can be described in paint starts to grow weak enough to support the existence of few clear and persistent landmarks. The woods are strange and slightly generic, in the way of the uncanny valley, and the ever-present snow looks just a little bit painted on, rather than naturally fallen and swept by winds, like the vague strokes that fill the background of an image, where the eye is meant to be guided away and towards the detailed centerpiece. The wind is a louder constant, barely felt, but certainly heard, carrying flakes of white that give the place something of a lonely air. The sun can be seen setting on the far horizon, silhouetting the distant castle, and casting the ramshackle settlement into dull amber glow and long shadows.

    Only a single path connects this place to anywhere else, studded with tiny, impromptu 'shrines', and it is obviously a relatively newer addition. Buildings are sparse and scattered, and those made of stone are comparatively few. Little has been done by accomplished masons, save a tiny, rural chapel; the rest is largely cobble, thatch, and amply available pine wood, somewhat sad and damp in the weather. The trees in the far distance are green and rid of snow, indicating that today was something like early spring, but so far away from the sun of this tiny world, it's just as bad as winter at its dark edges. The occupants are quiet, furtive and few, and seldom light fires, though there is a thin haze of smoke about the place. Carts, wagons, troughs and boxes clutter the haphazard streets, though what they contain, and used to contain, is a mystery, as they are either pried open and empty, or heavily swaddled in old, stained cloth and tarp, as if a caravan or convoy had stranded here and slowly built into a village by clear cutting the repeating trees.

    The loudest sign of habitation is the sound of crows, constant as the wind, and significantly more bold. They circle overhead and nest everywhere high up like an infestation, in the way ravens haunt a battlefield. Unnervingly enough, the cawing doesn't all seem to be coming from above. Avian croaking and crooning can be heard from behind closed doors and shuttered windows as well.


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Contents
Rural Chapel
Convoy Remains
Dingy Hovels
Dubious Path
Murder of Crows
?Mysterious Signal?

    Any quick check against the constantly visible castle, the stars starting to fade into view, or what approximates GPS, can quickly ascertain that this place isn't the last, though not extremely far from it. It clearly isn't the same date, either, judging by the change in weather and the significantly broader smoke plumes just starting to appear far in the distance, where it seems many towns may have grown larger. At least nobody winds up incredibly far split, however; all the arrivals are dumped within a scatter zone only a hundred meters across, where recently cut trees have only just begun to grow back, near to 'town'.

    Actual human activity can be heard this time, carried out in the hours of the setting sun, where people are tired and anxious to wrap up their business, instead of the sleepy little holiday of before. There can't be many people, though, judging by the small volume of voices, and the clattering of metal and supplies. A trade? A shipment?

    Of all things, a radio signal can shortly be picked up, albeit incredibly crackly and weak, originating down the path.
Starbound Flotilla "Something has changed. Have you the perception to see it?"
"Is this a riddle? Is the answer 'man', or, like, newspaper?"
"I've no ideas what ye speak of here."
"Area's altered. Temporal progression?"
"Worried. But was it many years, or few? Priscilla advanced it a lot..."
"Different. What isss different? Ugh."
"It is uncanny. Strained. Pulling taut like a drum's skin. Something has compromised the vision of the artist, and so his art suffers."

    Today, the Starbound Flotilla haven't come out in their armor and such. This time, it's better to hope that the local strangeness will be compatible with their own odd aesthetics, but even so, George is the one who leads the way among them, once they collect with each other. Seft... Seft seems sad. Disappointed. Moonfin seems to pick up on the tenseness, empathy activating in a negative way. Is everything going on here really okay...?

"Baffled. I'm picking up a... Radio signal?"
"Relay."
"I expect the others will fare better in other matters of investigation. Let us seek the source of this signal, and determine the nature of this anomaly."

    And so they head out. Down the path, with Seft focusing wordlessly on a small hand-scanner's analysis of the radio signal. Anything in it? Is it transmitting data, or is it just a beacon? Maybe it'll get them closer to the truths that are worth finding here, they hope, or give them some insight into where to find it.
Kushiko Well. This is a touch unnerving, depending on who you talk to and their temperament in general. The utter and complete silence is... notable, to put it plainly, as Kushiko herself values that kind of utter void of sound or presence, being what she is.

But this didn't feel right.

This felt like being plunged into something otherworldly, something that vaguely made her think of the /other/ Painting she's been a part of, and yet not. While at least the Painting itself is as it should be (in theory) everything else has her on edge.

She herself is operating the berserker Warframe known as Valkyr, undoubtedly familiar for a few here with its digitgrade feet yet otherwise humanoid and feminine sihoulette. Just a hint of felinoid aspects, really, what with the claws and the spear-looking weapon she's wielding. Instead of her Kubrow, however a little drone is with her, the shape of an 'X' as it hovers nearby.

As she progresses inwards, it's hard not to imagine her frowning as she speaks, <"Reminds us of a little of how things are... frozen, on Lua,"> an audible shiver heard as the frame turns her head from side to side. She gives Priscilla a deep bow before turning her attention to the arrival of others here, usually with a friendly, polite nod. She's not much for words, all told. Nonetheless, as Priscilla explains, she wonders what she saw has to do with anything; the wolf she /felt/ was something that was important, yet to what degree?

She's curious enough to actually voice this; voice a little detail about how it was incredibly easy to get lost within the forest. But it's the wolf that she lends the most detail to, the glimmering eyes of intelligence. Did that remind Priscilla of anything that was in the present, or in the past she knew? She felt knowing would probably help her sense of context for investigation; otherwise, all Kushiko would be at this point may well be just the sharp stick.

Once that information is had, as she accompanies the others into the painting, braced though she may be to expect the worse, she's actually relieved it isn't as ... mindbendy, as the first time. This time, she makes sure her Transference is stable, announcing it as such, <"Last time we left, this... whatever it was, disrupted our link severely."> At least this time the scatter isn't as awful; a 100 meter range is pretty easy for her to quickly traverse. <"... wonder if we were at a time after this place was no longer active."> Still, with the signal and more to track, as well as others to rejoin, she hustles, a combination of her bullet jumping and simply 'gliding' once she's used a tree's remnant to effectively launch herself through the air towards the path. Or perhaps towards one of the others then onto the path.

Presuming, of course, something in the forested area beyond what was cut doesn't draw her attention either.
Staren     "What is this?" Staren comments, on the strange... coldness, darkness, quietness as he enters. "Some kind of magic ward?"

    The catboy is dressed unusually, for him. Given that 'unusually' means anything other than his usual outfit with labcoat, his armor, his flightsuit, or his robot armor. He looks more like a 21st-century soldier in winter gear than the 'armored hardsuit' look. Someone looking closely or with an eye for detail might notice there appears to be slightly more armor incorporated into the design than just the vests available at the turn of the millenium, without impeding his movement more than winter clothing normally would. It doesn't /look/ like obvious armor to the medieval eye, though -- there's no obvious metal or anything. Probably doesn't match the local's aesthetic, but more able to pass as a contemporary from a foreign land to someone who isn't themselves from a later time.

    Priscilla gives her instructions. "So, ask questions, but try not to give away that we're time travelers. Or... whatever we count as, anyway."

    Stepping into the painting is... more normal this time. No need to get sucked in by warping of space. "A radio signal?" Staren notices as quickly as Seft, and immediately walks down the path alongside the Flotilla, helping keep an eye out for any sudden dangers.
Reiji Arisu Reiji has been to Anor Londo many times before. To see such a powerful wellspring of Dark bubbling up from its heart is as unnerving as it is disconcerting. He's known about the Painting of Ariamis for a while now, but to see so much of that disquieting darkness creeping out from it has him... concerned.

Has it been hiding there this whole time?

What is its source?

The only way to know is to dive in and find out.

The cries of not-too-distant crows sing in his ears as he makes landfall, the frozen terrain crackling underfoot even now in the midst of spring's meager onset. This place was said to be moving at an accelerated pace. Why? From when to where? What kind of history does a world within a painting really have?

"Xiaomu," Reiji calls, gesturing at his partner. "I'm going to head down and check out what's happening in town. They might be able to give us a better idea of what there is around here to be seen."
Eryl Fairfax     Eryl honestly did not appreciate the radio silence. Perhaps, as the Paladin Grandmaster, he has been spoiled on being kept up-to-date on things. However, this is, as of yet, nothing too major. Something of concern, a mystery to be solved. But not exactly a world-ending threat.

    He returns, sans badge once more, and listens to Priscilla's words. A disjoint in time requiring the Painted World to quickly 'catch up' on the millennia that had passed. That makes about as much sense as most things in the Multiverse. He also nods his approval to Priscilla's request to try not to alter things too much. She's saying so out of practical reasons more than the possible ramifications, but he'll take it.

    He slips through the canvas and falls, landing more gracefully in a three-point landing, though no less heavily. His first point of examination is not the forest, nor the trees, but any stumps left by deforestation, presumably to build up the settlement. He looks for the freshest one possible, and has Original Face scan the rings left in the wood to gauge how old the former tree was. Mentally, he compares the findings to the trees he might have seen on the way to the castle during their earlier visit. In general, he's trying to gauge how much time has passed between then and now.

    As Original Face computes that, he carries on with an investigation to satisfy more than his curiosity. The deeper, throatier cawing behind doors and windows have drawn his interest, and he'd like to meet the voice behind them. To that end, he heads into the town, listens for them, and politely knocks on any doors they originate from.
Tomoe The Painting once more This strange world and the sort of time loop they were dealing with? That was worrisome for Tomoe, she'd never had to deal with Time Travel before. Yet she's in to this till the end whatever happens.

"It's not like I would leave you hanging Priscilla. You have never done that to me."

Tomoe seems ready as she can be for whatever might come.

"So you landed away from us? That's good to know, it seems we get scattered upon entry after the last time."

So time was flowing oddly in there compared to the multiverse it self, she was moving to enter the painting once more. 5R
The pauses for half a second and then leaps in making ready for the fall which she know is to come. The moment she has any source of light her red wings will flare to life and seek to slow her fall keeping her from ending up face down in the snow, at least hopefully this time.

She comes in for a landing and takes a moment to right herself. The process of entering the painting did take a little bit out of her. She's got question to ask but cover not to blow either she gets the importance of not messing up the time line, it could have dire effects upon everyone

"I haver been wondering about that large bird and ... radio signal here?!"

She looks to Seft as well blinking.

"It's not one of ours I take it? Sounds like something we should look into then. Also I wonder if that big Crow might have bene Crow or connected to it? It's out there sure, but it's something that's stuck with me since our last trip to Carna's world."
Xiaomu The last venture into the Painting was interesting enough that Xiaomu's curiosity has remained piqued since then; Priscilla's comments to preface this expedition help to stoke it back up - and to make her wonder more directly whether the Painting is trying to catch up with the present day as known to the visitors from outside its bounds. But whatever secrets and mysteris remain to be uncovered -

Well, she doesn't mind learning about a history that she hasn't been around to witness, and it's certainly interesting. And Reiji is along on this trip, which makes it even better. The transition from Anor Londo to Painting may be less dramatic than last time, but it's still fairly disorienting ... and Xiaomu manages not to faceplant this time.

She lands on her back instead, practically making a snow angel in the drift where she landed. She's on her feet again in a hurry, literally shaking herself as she works on brushing the snow off of her. "Brrrr ... one of these trips I'll land on my feet," she mutters, then turns her attention to her partner. "Yeah, the village is probably worth investigating .... what's with all the crows, though?"

She actually stalls out for a few seconds, trying to remember how many traditions consider crows and ravens 'good' as opposed to 'bad' in terms of omens and portents. Then she gives up, shoulders her staff, and walks along with Reiji, keeping her eyes opened and her ears perked, her free hand fishing out her radio to see if she can get a better fix on that signal - if not where it's coming from, then at least what it's saying.
Carna     Enark seems confused as to why Priscilla would NOT expect them to come with. "Do you really think so little of us, your majesty?" he asks, not entirely chastisingly so much as wondering. The fact that Crow went missing during the last trip was mentioned at some point prior to going into the painting this time. It's something some present were already informed of while researching the goddess Enion and her role in a flooded underworld city, but has been made clear. What is not clear is whether the Shadow is in the Painting still or was transported elsewhere or just slipped away when they got back and hasn't made contact. Crow has been changing. More and more, whenever it manifests that divine spark of golden moon light, and the semblance of who it once was.

    Has it changed enough to just leave tham randomly without warning?

    So, the Blue Scholar seeks not just his own answers, but also to help one whom he considers a friend, and one whom he owes much and desires to help. And besides, it's in his nature to wish to learn. He is certain to investigate and ask questions.

    Carna is here because she didn't get to keep any of the stuff she looted last time, and being denied simply makes her drive stronger. The big-hatted, cloak-wearing dead-woman, not at all dissimilar to one of Lordran's Undead, though with a hungering Darkness within her whispering in her head, egging her on to feast on Light, has more sway at the moment than the desire to grow or learn. But she is at least here to assist. And she is in enough control of herself to fight her base nature. She has come to see Priscilla as a cold, authoritarian figure. But when it comes to this Painting, the simple act of being thanked for being here, reveals a different side of the queen, and starts moving the Lantern ever so slightly back towards the path she was on before: To be better, and do better.

    But her response upon arrival is typical of her. Draw weapons, search for signs of threat and cover to avoid same.

    Enark is startled by the change in scenery, perhaps having expected a similar arrival point as before, but works his way towards meeting up with the others, unless advised against such. The sound of crows in the distance and Tomoe's own reported meeting with a giant bird, definitely speaks to him. There's too much symbolism both here and 'back home' to ignore.

    So, with only some hesitation, he makes his way towards the source of the birds cawing, hoping to find out if a little Shadow lurks among them.

    Also, he announces himself so as not to startle them. You never know what talks. "Hello! My name is Enark! I am looking for someone who can tell me a bit about this place! Also, I am looking for someone. Is anyone around?" The direct way is sometimes the best way. And this place is safe, right?
Priscilla     Priscilla entertains some limited time for questions before people jump in. "It is not unusual that the beasts of Lordran shouldst groweth large, powerful, long-lived, and then intelligent, as they consumeth souls, as any human wouldst, but such shouldst not be a serious consideration of the Painted World; at least whence thou first stepped in." she says to Kushiko. "Most probably, a concession, or homage, to those realities without. Given strength by the painter to accurately model life. There is also the distinct possibility that they existeth as guardians or watchmen of a sort. I recall the times anyone was ever harmed by them were very few, and always associated with guilty men, fled into the woods."

    Then, to Staren. "Precisely, even I cannot say, however it is most certainly the absence of a ward. Ariamis' last work, painted in his own blood, is an especially powerful artifact of dubious blessing, and over many centuries, all-too frequently used as a means of the gods to dispose of that which they thought best forgotten, or else offended them. It is not a feat of divine smiths, but of a dedicated, and all-too human mortal man." It does have a little of that feeling about it. That dark, tranquil, lukewarm, ominously fascinating softness.
Priscilla     Traveling the path is not hard. It is much like the one explored before (technically, long ago now), though it winds tightly and aimlessly through high banks and dense trees, barely wide enough to get horses through. There are many footprints, with the most recent being very large and very deep; deeper than those that come with horseshoes. A number of makeshift mementos and roadside objects are easily found, with the same sort of items buried around them, but the burials are few, and the little totems have no discernible divine presence about them.

    The radio signal comes up soon. Partway along the road, and a significant ways off to the side, densely embedded in dark and tangled boughs of more deciduous trees, those following it come up upon an especially massive, old, and gnarled ash tree, host to a fairly enormous bird's nest. Inside of it, they find nothing other than Staren's drone from last week, cut off and dropped when they were all expelled from the painting. It has been horribly eroded by time and the elements, and terribly overgrown with vegetation growing from the dirt wedged into its cracks, but it is still just barely transmitting a locating beacon.

    How this is possible becomes obvious in short order. It looks like bits and pieces of the drone have been, for lack of a better word, 'maintained', though primarily in the sense of broken pieces being jammed back in, or replaced with objects that look kind of similar, with all sorts of wires and metal bits haphazardly jammed back in by a clumsy but extremely diligent hand. Someone or something has kept it running, somehow, though clearly without any real idea of what it is. Knowing this, it's perhaps plausible the Flotilla's scanner is still around somewhere, though it was in a populated area, so it may have been moved or dismantled.
Priscilla     Eryl checking the date of the trees is a canny trick. While one can't be a hundred percent sure, everything so far seems to have been more or less indistinguishable from reality, and so if one assumes that these trees still grow a ring each year, he'll find a different of roughly 150 of said years, averaged out.

    Heading into town is not difficult. It's a scattered and chaotic collection of leaning masonry and weather-battered road transport, so for the most part one can just walk right in. The sounds of activity appear to be happening nearest the 'front', however, where it seems two camps of people have gathered. One of the groups looks fairly familiar; not individually, but their average features and style of dress are similar to the town of before. There are perhaps half a dozen, surrounded by an equal number of less casually dressed figures. Flanking them are a number of heavily armed and armoured knights, each eight feet tall, and clad in plates far too heavy and thick for a normal person to tolerate, with sculpted metal crests atop their helms. They look really foreign, and stand out sharply, but so do the people they're talking to.

    The opposite camp has only a few 'normal' looking people, and even then they're an excessively pale, gaunt, sunken looking lot, with dark clothes and sullen expressions that are of a vastly different style than the other villages, and with a commonality of brass pins and buttons featuring the crow. A large number of them, however, are not entirely human. Some sort of pox has afflicted these people, and many, if not most, bear the signs of some kind of mutation, or perhaps a curse, coming to resemble the black birds they venerate with low-key grotesque taloned feet, patchy feathers, twisted and beak-like jaws, black eyes, ashen skin, and in some cases even vestigial wings.

    The two groups don't seem to be hostile to one another, but they are arguing quite animatedly. The focus appears to be around a tall mall swathed in black robes and a brass helmet, with a rapier sheathed at his hip, tightly clutching some sort of box to his chest, and . . . Andre, actually.

    The birds are pretty unhelpful, though they all look to Enark with uncanny intelligence. Eventually, one of them deigns to attempt to mimic human speech, in an unnatural, squawking fashion, though for the life of him, he wouldn't be able to actually see which one it is. "You! You! Dead thing! Wet and cold! No soft! No warm!"
Eryl Fairfax     In his course of investigating the sounds of larger birds, Eryl stumbles across something that immediately gives him some context. The pale, decrepit people are exhibiting signs of mutation that express as black feathers, beak-like protrusions from their face... these are they.

    That they are meeting with a group that includes Andre paints further light on the situation. Any group that includes him would consist of 'old-towners,' to use a slang term. Those who have been here longer. The other, mutating group are likely more recent arrivals. Perhaps their presence explains the greater volume of crows in the sky also.

    Slowly, he creeps towards the group and pulls the hood of his cloak up to disguise his face. It's been a long time for the blacksmith, but he would hate for Andre to recognize him. He slips in to the back of the pale bird people and slowly begins to mingle, trying to listen in to what is being discussed.
Tomoe Tomoe does think on what Priscilla said to her about the Crow maybe she's right but she couldn't shake the feeling that she knew the bird somehow and it knew her. She'll focus on other matters for the moment as she's moving. She noticed what Eryl is doing and then his comment on the radio makes it very clear. It was quite creative and she'd not have thought of it either. The trip is not too bad, as others check into.

However with the things ahead in town she's going to try to get closer to listen in with the rest, she dearly wishes she could FRAPS still but given she is Tomoe now more or less that's not really an option. So she'll do her best to listen on just what everyone is arguing about, also with Staren bringing up the Gargoyles it does make her wonder a lot about what's actually going on here.
Reiji Arisu Well. That's quite a sight, isn't it? On one hand, a motley assortment of burghers and strange, armored knights too large to be ordinary men. On the other, a bunch of corvine... mutants? No, that doesn't seem quite right. The man at their helm seems to be dressed like one of Velka's famous Pardoners. The pins, the crows, these would mark this place... touched. Blessed, maybe. But what is happening to these people? Why have they become so... twisted?

Hmn.

"Crows are sacred to one of Anor Londo's oldest and most mysterious gods. That she is worshipped so openly here is... strange." Reiji's brow furrows slightly as he tries to clear up his partner's query. "Come on," he says, moving in for a closer listen, "Let's see what it is we can find out."

Reiji moves towards the center of the assembly, quietly latching his weapon-rack to a hook on his back so as to not appear overtly threatening. "Excuse me," he says to one of the armored men-- and to the people gathered around him. "My companion and I are travellers. We've only just now arrived in these parts. Could you perhaps tell us what exactly is going on here?"
Starbound Flotilla "Ssscience cat friend left ssstuff!!"
"And the damn thing's still transmitting too? Wow."
"But not, it seems, without assistance, and without obscurity."
"Like Priscilla said. Can't violate temporal integrity."
"Aye, but it seems there's cracks to slip through if ye have the canniness."
"Contemplating. Perhaps it might be possible to take advantage of this..."
"What's your scheme, Seft?"
"Determined. I need to find my scanner."

    The Starbound Flotilla are generally of the opinion that Staren is more likely to have some handle on that. What they're going to look for, most of all, is signs of who's been messing with this. Are any parts from their scanner? Are there signs of where they might have gone, maybe? Perhaps there might be a clue there of where the scanner went. If not, the only sensible option is to just get right back into the chapel -- is this the same as the one they left the scanner at? -- and check around there, harass priests and such perhaps. Or maybe visit a metalworker, or a local collector, or SOMETHING that might have the basic scanning equipment.

    But as they do, Seft scans one thing in particular. The demonstrable permeability of upper atmosphere layers, using a heavily power-draining setting on her hand-scanner. If they can get the gear, that's good, they might get a hundred and fifty years worth of data. But... If they can use that a little more, they're going to try something specific: Launching a very small satellite into orbit -- if that night sky of Ariamis' painting could ever host such a thing -- one that they can keep far out of sight (and out of timeline corrective measures, and draw more detailed data from. Perhaps to subtly achieve a few bits of insight into what goes on in the dozens of years between visits here, and to get some initial bearings on where to lock on first in their excursions.
Xiaomu Reiji clearly knows more about Velka than Xiaomu does; as such, the sage fox will continue to defer to her partner's lead. She's *pretty* sure that their corvinesque appearance stems from a curse rather than a proper blessing ... but depending on Velka's nature, it could very well *be* a blessing of some kind. Gods work in mysterious ways, etc. etc. yadda yadda boom-de-yadda.

For now, Xiaomu just not-quite-lurks behind/next to Reiji and tries to look unobtrusive. She's tempted to shapeshift/conjure a cloak or robe or something ... her vulpine ears and tails are on full display at the moment, and if foxes may not be getting rave reviews from the possibly-Velka-touched villagers.

Well, changing her appearance *now* would just draw even more attention to herself. So she maintains her current appearance and outfit, leaning lightly on her staff as she lets Reiji do the talking.
Staren     Staren scratches his head. "I didn't get a chance to give them anything. Septette was the one with the radio... If it has some kind of magical power source, it might well last this long." he gasps. "My drones! But people couldn't possibly have divined the operating principles..."

    While the Flotilla work on their sattelite, Staren proceeds into town looking for the source of the signal, and comes upon the arguing people.

    He looks for one of the locals, not involved in the argument. "Excuse me, but what's going on here?" He also listens for what's being argued about, trying to figure out the context.
Kushiko So armed with what information Priscilla could provide, Kushiko moves on; Enark and Carna she might've sought to accompany, but for now more is the concern with this path, and quite possibly the signal itself; whether the two are related as she actually documents the totems this time. Not going to claw the ground to unearth them or anything else, but with her scanner, she'll take at least a good visual of them.

She's going to provide some of her scanning tech, even if it isn't as good as the Flotilla's, to the task of documenting the drone. Besides, another pair of eyes (however weird they are) is useful sometimes. She listens to the radio in the meantime, the discussions about what's happening in different parts of this area. Though the drone's /out here/ and not moved back... too heavy, or maybe they're closer? That leads her to searching about for paths beyond the drone itself, if there are any.

Otherwise, she's more likely to follow the Flotilla's members, albeit a little more discretely while contemplating the pieces of the puzzles that've been uncovered thus far. The mention of Velka has her particularly concerned...
Carna     Carna slinks through the shadows, moving through the town as a ghost, trying to do the opposite of what Enark is doing by not drawing attention. She still isn't comfortable with crowds, and she'd rather be watching than be watched. That someone named 'Andre' is around means nothing to her. She doesn't know him. If others do, then that might provide an avenue for gaining information. But she is more concerned about the heavily armed and armored knights. She had been told this place was supposedly safe. What need is there for warriors in a realm without strife?

    The concept that people could maintain peace instead of some sort of cosmic force doesn't really come to her. Though given that people eventually fail when assigned such a task, maybe she would be onto something regardless.

    Enark pauses when spoken to so accusatorily. "Well, nobody's perfect," is his rejoinder. "Listen, have you seen a shadow around here? One that moves on its own? Like a blob of darkness with a face? Also, the last time I was here, the queen was a small child or something. ...Wait, was she a queen then or a princess? I'll check on that, one moment." Enark lifts a wax skull on a chain and talks into it, asking for verification. It whispers an answer back to him, and he then turns back to the crows. "Princess. Could you tell me what the status of the princess is? I can make it worth your while. I think I have some... Some... Bird seed or... Something." The scholar is patting down his robes and searching his pockets, but turns out with one of those microwavable heat compresses for relieving headaches and muscle pain. "I don't have any bird seed. But if you heat this up, it will be both warm and soft. How about it?"
Priscilla     Slipping in to listen, one can confirm that the argument isn't quite heated, and so unlikely to come to a boil (at least not yet), but it is one rather grave and serious. For the most part, those gathered seem to be doing so just for the sake of numbers, so they look better represented, though there's hardly anything official going on. The huge and heavy knights are a new addition though, and possibly every bit as foreign as the crow men. Why the group from the previous village feels them necessary is up for debate. Maybe they just want to feel useful. A culture of soldiering is hard to give up entirely, and this is a peaceful place. Maybe it hasn't been quite as peaceful these days.

    Eryl and Tomoe listening for a time can overhear most of it. The man in the bronze mask is rather eloquent and well-spoken, sounding quite educated, almost to the point of being aristocratic. Andre is pretty much the obvious, but clearly well-liked, and if he's been around 150 years here, obviously a community fixture by now. Andre appears to be patiently arguing for the villagers to give something of importance up, claiming that it's "no good fer 'em" and that there is a safer place to put it; that "the missus will look after ye". The black-swathed man seems reticent to agree to anything, claiming that it is a piece of their culture, but also something that they would be remiss to hand over to anyone else, claiming it is the reason for their arrival at all, and that they already believe it is clear nobody else in the Painted World wants them around. There's some mention of magic that makes the rest of the denizens uncomfortable, and then finally, tense evasion of fully acknowledging that there had been some kind of violence recently. It's obviously whatever is in the box is the subject of debate.

    When Reiji butts in, one of the huge hulks in fluted plate looks at him with all the interest and eloquence of the alpha of a herd of oxen. His facial features too, barely visible in his helmet, are very different from those of both village groups. He does eventually mutter, however. "Another one? More of them by the year, I swear. If you're looking for something here, you'd better leave. The people of Ariamis don't have anything to offer outsiders, and the Mistress doesn't give anything away, nor does she acquiesce to requests, save to settle down for good, or take the way out. If you're looking to abandon your life outside, like the others, you'd best come with us. This lot isn't one you want to fall in with." A look goes to the rack of katanas. A warrior from the East? Lordran at least has some distant human land where curved swords are a thing.

    Funny enough, now appears to be a good time to look weird. With the crow people and all, some funny ears of weird coloured hair just adds to the kind of 'refugee misfits' vibe starting to develop here. Albeit, Reiji, Xiaomu, Staren and the others in general, have a lot more life about them than the people here, who universally exude a faint aura of being 'retired', no matter their position. "Young boy, please, this isn't any of your business." says one of the crow people, looking and sounding a little more urgent than actually hostile. "People here keep to themselves, you know. It'd be something you'd be wise to learn. We all have our backgrounds. Our mistakes and our reasons for coming here. We've all no place for us in the outside world, so let us leave those problems be, yes?"
Priscilla     Those picking over the drone do find a few things. Indeed, several pieces of it /are/ from the scanner, and they've been picked and chosen with a fairly high degree of accuracy, though at an odd kind of level of perception that doesn't seem like a sensible thing to do. It seems almost as if someone had a long bout of highly successful trial and error here, judging by more corroded components littering the nest, rather than actually understanding what they were doing. There are various marks on many pieces, as if pried out by force rather than tools. The power cell is just about anyone's guess. It looks to have been cobbled together with batteries drawn from the scanner as well, in small increments, but they appear to have been charged and recharged over and over until they just wore out, like old storebought batteries after 100 jaunts with the wall socket charger. It isn't clear how. They don't have electricity here.

    No member of the Flotilla will have to get terribly far to see the fate of Seft's scanner. The village is still there, thankfully, and even bigger than before, and with that comes the inevitability that the graveyard is bigger as well, albeit less than one would expect for 150 years of even relatively modern living. The place is significantly busier as well, mostly involving people returning home and shops closing down, having started to become slightly metropolitan, like a burgeoning major trade outpost on the shores of a new continent, but the church is the same. Up top, they can see the remains of the scanner, overgrown and picked clean. The priest may have left it up there because it is being heavily nested by the apparently-important crow species, and looks more or less like a flowerbed now, with seeds accidentally brought up from the ground, and kept above the snow. The memory unit could be intact, but repairing it would be more effort than scrapping and recycling it.

    The atmosphere is an uncertain business. Much like the ground, the higher Seft scans upwards, the more vague and generic the readings become, to the point of reading a wikipedia article on 'atmospheric composition' and half-assing it. It's highly unlikely an orbit really exists. After all, how would the painter know to even add one? That said, however, there is no definite 'end' to the sky, or any kind of ceiling. It's quite probable something launched too high might lose its ability to determine its own position, which could certainly be dangerous, but it's not like there isn't room for it.

    Enark is unironically having a conversation with an invisible 'talking' crow. It seems to understand every sixth word, which is, albeit, more than a crow usually converses with people. "Dark! Dark! Dark from outside! Dark things! Dark spells! Locked up! No face! You! You face! Dark! No face!" It then goes into a few rounds of raucous squawking. "No seed! Give me soft! Give me warm! Mistress has dark thing! Will show!"
Tomoe Tomoe listens in detail as the 'argument' goes on its a debate more than an actual fight but she keeps back until Reiji sticks his nose in to this directly. She does not she keeps an eye on, she gets the idea the people who live in here took refuge from the outside, given the time period was when the world outside was falling apart? She can't fault them for that and the information is also useful. She also takes a moment to adjust her hair a bit to better hide her ears if she ends up exposed she'll take a look to Eryl for a moment.

"Now what?"

She says quietly seeming to deferring to him, she trusts him personally even with her feelings on the Paladins trying to recruit her a matter of public record. She does get an idea that other people coming in from the outside world may have been disturbing the locals here.
Staren     So they're not talking to him... Sheesh, the people have really changed since before. And now they're being asked to give something up, and it isn't the source of the signal. In fact the signal is coming from the other way... Staren asks an ally to get a picture of what's in the box if it's revealed in case it's important, and passes them a tablet if need be.

    "Solving problems is what I do. It's who I am." He replies to the man. "But I won't bother you right now." He turns and leaves to follow the signal, coming to the drone. Now what the hell...

    This shouldn't even be possible. Noone should have been able to reverse-engineer it at all with their current level of technology. A miracle? More time shenanigans? Perhaps the drone contains the answer. He flies up to the nest to secure it. If there's no problem doing that, then he walks some distance away and sits against a tree to examine it, eventually trying to pull any recordings on it. If nothing else, maybe it got a look at who was working with it. Maybe they even figured out its purpose, and left a message.
Eryl Fairfax     Eryl muses over what he has learned. The corvian people own something in a box that is a point of contention between they and the established inhabitants of the Painted World. They ask that they turn it over to Priscilla for safekeeping, but the corvians maintain that it is part of their heritage. Violence has already erupted over the issue, and it may happen again.

    Eryl is at a bit of a loss as to what he should do. Would interfering heavily boot them out, as it did last time? Perhaps if he merely pretended to be among the corvians, his impact would be lessened. But if he could convince them to surrender the box and its contents, would that alter the course of history? With Priscilla rendered a ghost within this world, she cannot advise them if she remembered how this went.

    In the end, all he can do is go with his gut, and do what he would do in normal circumstances.

    He slips through the crowd to get behind the Pardoner, and places a hand on his shoulder. His hood is pulled low, making his face hard to identify, should the man turn his head away from Andre. "Pardoner, a word in your ear," he says, making his voice croak to sound more akin to those he pretends to be. He pauses, feeling for that sense of dread he experienced at the bridge last time, before continuing if it does not manifest.

    "It is sacred to us. But without a place to honour it, how can we call ourselves ardent to it? This place is safe and peaceful, and the inhabitants only seem unkind because we refuse to change. Would we allow a new acolyte to carry on as they did in their old life? All new relations require some give and take. If we turn it over, we can, on conditions that would allow us to properly ensure that it is safe and respected as it deserves to be. Please, our people need time to settle. You can grant it to them. We do not need to drag in our old troubles to this new world, please do not force us to."

    And with that, he slips back into the crowd.
Reiji Arisu A warrior from the East indeed. Well. One east among many. Xiaomu is from the East, too. You can tell because of her dress.

It's a very... distinctive dress.

"Ah, is that so? I'm not sure we're quite ready to settle down anywhere just yet, I'm afraid. It does seem as though you and your fellows are from a fairly distant land, yourselves." His eyes narrow, his mind wracking to think about... where. "To the north, or the west, perhaps?"

He glances over to the box and the argument surrounding it. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to sate my curiosity, but what exactly /is/ this about? That box seems strange, and that man, I've heard of his sort before... Velkan, I think?"

Just play up the image of being a wanderer from a faraway land. That should... hopefully insulate him from whatever force might eject a too-prominent face from this window into history.
Carna     Enark is used to hearing voices. Maybe not as viscerally and continuously as someone like Carna, but an invisible bird talking to him is hardly the strangest thing he has ever experienced. When the offer is made to show him the dark with the face that the bird's mistress has, he thus accepts it at face value. Smiling, he says, "Oh, splendid. Thank you. Lead the way." He has no idea how he is going to follow an invisible bird, but maybe it will leave foot prints or something. He follows an invisible faction leader regularly, he will figure something out, even if he doesn't know the exact location. Invisible doesn't mean unable to talk after all!

    He continues searching through his pockets for anything both warm and soft though. As payment for services rendered, it only seems fair. He has some loose string. Does that count?

    Carna, meanwhile, has been intently listening to the conversation. Even if she doesn't really understand why any of this matters. But that box is, for whatever reason, desired by Priscilla, she guesses. She owes much to Priscilla, and is only natural for a Lantern to make some sort of compensation when in trade. It encouraged further assistance in the future, even if 'all for one' is more desirable. So she decides to step in here to obtain something for the queen, or princess, or whatever. The cloaked and be-hatted figure emerges from the darkness, wraith-like. She then, without any apparent concern for the dynamics of the situation or the repercussions, says, "Turn the box over to me. I will ensure it reaches Queen Priscilla."

    This will definitely turn out well.
Starbound Flotilla "Worried. This might work, but..."
"Mmmh. I see. No guidance viability."
"We'd basically have to take it on faith, huh?"
"Found yer damn hunk of junk, ironsides. Looks to be makin' plenty of friends."
"Ahhh, it has become part of the local ecosystem."
"Floran can eat 'em!!"
"Absolutely not, you weed. The life here deserves respect."

    Don't bother with the locals, or at least don't make a point of bothering them. What the Flotilla intends to do here is fairly simple. Moonfin approaches, harassing Pavo into following him. She's a bird!! She can totally encourage the crows to follow along. He gathers materials from nearby plant life with his Matter Manipulator, and then, where few people would be bothering to look, grapples his way up to the belltower with Pavo, taking it slowly as he climbs in, meaning to not disturb them. He's heard something about... Crows. Crows here being meaningful, on the radio. Best to tread lightly.

    "Black-feathered host, I mean you no harm." He says, kindly. Producing his Matter Manipulator, he uses his high-tier architectural expertise to craft a shining, pretty, comfortable, and well-integrated addition to the belltower, in four tasteful parts around the pillars, seeming as much a strangely well-made nest as anything else. Instead of machine parts, though, the shininess comes from more natural sources, engineered plant matter and suchlike. "We have need of what you use as nesting now, and ask an exchange."

"Ye know they probably can't understand ye, right?"
"Please, tolerate my caution and respect for nature, Pavo."
"Aye, 'tis what I'm gonna invoice ye for."
"Sigh."

    Pavo makes a few soft, inviting squawks, attempting to encourage any birds that have stayed here in the nest to move over just a bit into the new space. Crow-Avians, at least, she knows will often take exchanges, gifts, or other things to build alliance. She's hoping they'll accept her bird-like nature and do something much more strange than they usually would. And if it all goes well, Pavo and Moonfin will recover the unit, as much as they can. The main body of their prospective satellite, however effectual it may be and however long it may last.

    The other members of the Flotilla toil away at the ground floor, trying to find a private place at the outskirts of the graveyard, where they can set up a very small set of quickly-manufactured orbit-capable thrusters to mount the scanning setup to. One hopes it will last for at least one more cycle...
Xiaomu With her staff, Xiaomu certainly hopes she looks the part of a wanderer. Where she's from isn't as important. She definitely isn't harboring any hopes of settling down in this land, though - not that she was before, but the chilly reception to outsiders cements her decision even more firmly.

She settles for looking curious but as inoffensive as possible ... at least up until she has to wince at Carna's rather blatant play for the box.

Well. It *might* work, to be fair.
Kushiko Kushiko wasn't all that interested in getting involved with the locals as is.

Still, she keeps a quietly subtle little overwatch over the members of the Flotilla for the most part, considering what they've learned regarding the drone in terms of it's parts. Maybe scanning for something on the electromagnetic spectrum more locally might do some good while the Flotilla members do what they're doing.

Just because there's no power sources seemingly visible or present here doesn't mean she can't wander stealthily and see if she can't find it on her own.
Priscilla     Staren checking out the drone finds that it is certainly an unusual configuration for his poor, remote controlled buddy. It's actually pretty impressive that anyone kept this thing running, considering it's designed to be disposable. As far as he can tell, though, it's been done with zero tools, and a crude understanding of what goes where, and he can see why when he pulls the recordings, degraded in quality, but still intelligible.

    A very, very long portion of it is highly uneventful, but involves the drone being taken to this nest a long time ago, repeatedly messed with, components building up as the snow falls and melts over the years, and occasionally the feet or even beak of an utterly tremendous crow (the same one Tomoe had seem before) slide into view, though its camera lens is unfortunately low. There is the very distinct impression that the huge bird was fixing the thing up, and signs that it had frequently attempted to 'communicate' with the drone, returning every so often to maintain it for a century and a half. It . . . may actually have left some kind of message, but it's impossible to tell without, well, someone who speaks 'weird, giant, hyper-intelligent bird'. Examination of the power supply is beyond the scope of the moment, but it's definitely not charged with electricity. Some kind of faint, magical energy?

    Pavo is making her best effort at speaking bird. Crows do a brisk business here, it seems, and if any of them are abnormally old, it's Lordran's way that some of them start to become at least somewhat intelligent (and also very big). The ones Moonfin bothers are probably some combination of slightly smarter than regular crows, and still enough like regular crows to like shiny and soft things, and take to his addition immediately, with a ton of experimental pecking and probing, more like cats exploring a new 'tree. Thankfully, there are no eggs in the scanner/flower pot, so it can be stripped down very easily. The degradation is shallow, being restricted to the outer components, which means the data storage is mostly fine, but the sensory equipment probably crapped out much longer than just a year or two ago, so the log won't stretch the full period.

    Kushiko stalking around is sufficient overwatch for the workers on the ground; few people seem interested in coming to the graveyard at sundown. Try as she might, though, no power source reveals itself. It can only be something entirely disassociated from electromagnetism. Probably something unique to this world.
Priscilla     The massive knight regarding Reiji seems to narrow his eyes in turn, though for different reasons. "Berenike of the north is no more. With no lands to defend and no oaths to uphold, is it any wonder that some of those left to wander the world without purpose would one day wash up at this place, this end of destinations?"

    He then gives the Pardoner a sidelong glance, and snorts faintly. "Don't really know. Don't think I want to. They're followers of Velka alright. She's a respected goddess here. But she didn't respect them back. They did something that pissed her off, and being the Lady of Sin, she got back at them. Lords knows how they wound up here. Might have been dumped here as an embarrassment to the gods. Might have fled for their lives. They're cursed, and rightfully so. I'll believe the repentance story when I see it. The worst of them can't live out here, though. Lost their minds."

    The Pardoner has a sidelong glance for Eryl as well, narrow and appraising, like the canny birds his goddess is known for. He alone appears to be completely unafflicted by any manner of curse, which might say something as to why he is their unofficial leader in other respects than just his station, and presumed capability with his sword. "You are not wrong, but it is more than simply a matter of veneration. This is a piece of our past that should not be forgotten, not just for honour's sake, but so that everyone will one day remember the injustice perpetrated by the gods after their Great Lord departed for the Flame, and recognize the sacrifices of those who brought it to an end. May our Lady of Sin forgive us for our premature and presumptuous zeal, in doing her will without consulting her, but this is a dangerous thing, and cannot be left in careless hands. They speak highly of this Mistress, but we have yet to see her ever come here. It pains me, as it does you, to hide it away so, where none but us outcaste from the church will remember it, but . . ."

    Then Carna butts in. This has the potential to go immediately, catastrophically wrong, but it has just the right timing to go with Eryl's convincing push. Pretty much instantly, the knights turn to her, and block off the meeting right away, leaping to action with a kind of eagerness that can only come from an attempt to relive half-forgotten glory days. Their utterly massive shields, taller than she is and made of solid steel, present a formidable wall, and one of them even goes the extra step of eagerly smashing her away with his, launching her back into the shadows she had materialized from. The Pardoner looks on in anxious consternation, spinning his mental gears in a way Eryl can tell is abnormally quickly, before quietly slipping the box to Andre while few people are paying attention. "However, if we cannot ensure its safety here . . ." he says to Eryl, partly contemplative, partly resigned, but just as much a wink and a nudge.
Staren     Staren considers this. A supernaturally intelligent and large crow has maintained the device and may have left a message. Somehow this isn't as shocking as it should be. He just kind of rolls with it -- He'll keep the drone, and he'll need to find someone who speaks crow, but now that he knows this... it seems like he shouldn't just leave.

    He returns to the nest, and deposits in it one (1) equestrian gold coin, one (1) com-unit*, one (1) spare battery pack (the voltage and amperage don't match exactly, but if the crow could manage THAT surely it can manage THIS,) and, after a moment's thought, one (1) utilitool**.

    He records a message for the com-unit: "Hello. I see you have kept my device working, and may have left me a message. I will try to get it translated. I don't know to what end you've maintained it for so long, but I hope this will make your job easier. I don't know when I will return. If you know anything about the being we call Crow, I would appreciate this information. ...If there is anything you want, let me know, and if we become allies, I will see what I can do. Thank you for trying to maintain this so long; we'll see if anything comes from it."

    Then he decides to go see what the Flotilla are doing.

*Com-Unit: What Staren used to hand out before the tablets. Looks sort of like a flipphone or star trek communicator, with a transparent LCD-like screen. Based on technology a half-century older and from a world where computer technology didn't advance as fast -- hopefully easier to work with.
**Utilitool: This device, the size of a large fountain pen, is composed of nanomachines and smart materials and can reshape into almost any tool of similar size, including miniature power tools. It responds to voice or computer commands. (But the com-unit doesn't have the necessary software...)
Priscilla     The invisible crow, in the end, never materializes. Who knows where it actually is. A flight of five other crows, however, takes off in what is a credible attempt at leading Enark, though he'll have to hike his robes up and hurry through a lot of tangled brush of fallen branches and thorny plants. When he comes to a clearing, upon which the crows alight on many stumps, stones, and the scattered remains of a pack, he finds something extraordinary.

    There is a dead body here. Taller than even the knights behind, though far more thin and lanky; skeletally so. Hunch backed and oddly jointed, it appears to have been wearing an extremely ornate, beaked mask, and a heavy white shawl, but glints of abnormally skinny armour can be seen underneath, black with dried blood, now buried by fresh snow. A sort of large satchel lies cast from its outstretched hand, leaving out piles of small and valuable objects, but also more ominously, a small number of human skulls. They very well may have been entire severed heads, years ago, before the crows picked them clean.

    The freakishly proportioned person appears to have been running with the bag underarm, and armed as well, considering the presence of an excessively large and excessive silver rapier lying point down and rusted in the ground to his opposite side. Practically all of his possessions radiate faint levels of magic, all of it a little dark. Across his back, however, his shawl has been ripped open, and his armour with it, and his spine severed. The culprit appears to be a simple, wood hafted farming scythe, tossed aside near the edge of the clearing, blade rusted through with the stains of old blood.

    It isn't a remotely remarkable weapon; in fact, it is very clearly a tool, but remarkable for the fact it was used to kill this . . . thing, and also for the fact a crow lands and perches on its handle quite meaningfully. The scythe itself is not magical in any way, but Enark doesn't have to cast a spell to recognize something . . . very dark about it. Something practically soaked into it, as a ghost soaks into the site of its death.
Starbound Flotilla "Was that actually the Avian language?"
"Surely not, matey, but it worked. Let's get it back to workin'."

    Moonfin bows to the local crows. "It is my hope that you shall enjoy our gift, as man enjoys the gifts granted by nature." He says, with the sort of genuine respect that he almost never gives /people/. Hylotl are weird. Anyway, that's done, and so they set upon the scanner, grabbing it up and bringing it down to Seft and the others. And then, soon, they dig into it, finding and offloading all the data that could be in the data core, and replacing all the broken parts in the scanning apparatuses with and fresh versions.

"Okay, Floran thinksss, will be ready for launch in sssecond."
"I'm not super hopeful we're going to have anything to come back to."
"Aye, 'tis an unlikely shot."
"Better than no shot. Can't depend on crow altruism."
"Optimistic. I think Ariamis's skills are enough to depend on."

    The little multi-stage minirocket is meant to convey the football-sized sensor core straight up to... Well, somewhere out of the way. And its onboard diamond-based nuclear power source shouldn't expire for another several hundred years, maybe even several thousand. If they can get any ability to instantly acquire targets of interest when they enter the Painted World, it'll definitely accelerate their ability to find the information Priscilla's asking them to find. And it should reach such regions on a booster about as tall as George is.

    As opposed to those massive launches that people think of when they think of rocketry, this one's more like a mortar being launched. A big puff of snow, and then something rockets up quickly into the sky, leaving a thin trail of strange chemicals that quickly dissipate. With luck, they'll have just enough time to review the data that was copied from the memory core, as well as get some initial readings from how their satellite's stability is turning out, before the chrono-proxy link breaks down again...
Tomoe Tomoe lets Eryl go ahead she has an idea of her own unrelated to this, she brings up a menu while she's out of sight and checks her inventory Tomoe often stashed things she should throw out but has no means to in there and for once this may turn out to be useful. Eryl goes to do his thing and any more cooks might spoil the pot She's got her plan and she'll open a comm channel to her allies to let them know. She'll skulk back out of the settlement heading a bit down and away from it. Then she'll open a window and access her inventory she'll pull out an apple core which still has seeds, and then she'll pull out a knife, she also heats the ground even though it may be winter here the trees did grow. It's time for some science even if nothing happens at least it could be of use if it works.

She'll heat the ground with a brief flame spell then get to work with the knife to get a deep enough hole before she'll bury the apple core seeds and all, cover it back up and hope for the best. She'll take a moment to look around the location so she can find it again the next time she comes through.

"Well here goes nothing."

She figures having a non technological way to keep the time here might work and if it doesn't work she won't be too torn up.

She'll leave the site of the buried apple core and will move to catch up with the others paying attention to the radio? Whats' the worst that could happen? They have to deal with some kind of apple tree monster? She's make sure to track where it is relative to the town and it seems to only be a few moments walk down the road from the towbn hopefully this will be enough.
Eryl Fairfax     So, it is no mere relic, but evidence of a crime that the god perpetrated against Lord Gwyn. It is natural that followers of Velka would pursue sinners, but these people did so before or against her wishes, resulting in their curse and banishment. "I know of their Mistress-" he begins to say, only to be cut off by Carna simply barging in and demanding the box be turned over to her. So much for diplomacy. The great knights move to keep her away with the vigour of those constantly spoiling for a fight, and Eryl begins scanning for means of escaping from this affair, when the Pardoner finally relinquishes the box to Andre. The tone in his voice is canny...

    Eryl analyzes it, turning it over and over in his head. The most likely conclusion is that the Pardoner was looking for a reason to turn it over beyond 'the inhabitants of the Painted World demand it.' This whole affair gave him the out he needed, and it would explain why he slipped it to Andre so surreptitiously... but why would he need to? The corvian people clearly follow him. Is there someone or something else who would rather keep the object from Priscilla's hands?

    The other, much less likely alternative is that the Pardoner was aware of his nature, and wanted him to take the box from the Painted World. This is something he knows isn't likely to happen, as everyone lost everything they had taken during the last visit... but the thought of it niggles at him. If Priscilla had evidence of the gods' crime against Gwyn, what might she do with it?

    Regardless, he puts a hand on Andre's shoulder and begins to guide him away from the scuffle and towards the ever-visible castle. Just to make sure the box reaches it. It would be simple to assume that violence only broke out because the followers of Velka refused to play ball, but maybe some here simply want the box for their own ends. Best to make sure it is properly secured.
Kushiko Well, if not technological, definitely something more esoteric. Not something she's ignorant of, but she's equally uncertain of her footing as to actually finding where more of that magical, vague energy might be coming from if at all.

So what can she really do here, save perhaps wandering around?

So she does. She's currently confident enough with the Flotilla group being pretty secure where they are, so maybe she can tap that Void sense of herself, and find /something/ that'll be useful.

Or at least, that's her hope. So she'll go, sneaking around a little bit near the buildings that are closest to the graveyard. Presuming of course, the crows don't take too much notice of her.
Xiaomu 'End of destinations' sounds like a relevant phrase to Xiaomu, and she does her best to make a mental note of it for future reference. Like ... if travellers are like grains of sand, and the roads and settlements of the world a network of sieves and sifters, that wording suggests that this is where everyone would eventually come to rest who doesn't get caught longer-term somewhere 'upstream'.

More information comes to light about Velka - 'Lady of Sin' indeed. And yeah, the ravenous appearance of the crow-folk is indeed a curse. She *thought* she caught a scent more 'curse' than 'blessing'. But ... well, if Velka's that upset at them and their line, for whatever reason, it's not necessarily a curse that Xiaomu is going to have any success in lifting. Besides, that kind of thing *WOULD* leave a prominent and likely-indelible mark on the history of the Painted World, and she'd just as soon not get remembered that strongly.

Meanwhile, Carna's offer elicits ... more or less exactly what the sage fox thought would happen: solid wall of rejection. She just sidles further away from Carna, not wanting any part of whatever scuffle might ensue.
Reiji Arisu Berenike? That name is...

Well. Not familiar. He's heard it before. Briefly, in passing. Wasn't Berenike the bunch who tried to get through to Anor Londo? Something terrible happened to them, though. So then, these are the survivors...? "I see," Reiji says, consolingly. "I'm sorry. I've only heard of your home in passing, but even I know rumors of the strength of the Knights of Berenike."

But... Well. That knight's words certainly explain a few things. So these people /were/ cursed. Goddess of Sin, indeed. What could they have done that had brought her ire, though?

Maybe they decided to do something dumb that accidentally ruined one of her other plans.

Well. Maybe Eryl knows something about that.

"Hmn, well. I know a little about Velka as well. I think they are being genuine," Reiji says with a confident look over towards the corvids. "They worship the Goddess of Sin. I doubt they would compound their mistake with false repentance."

There's a beat, though.

Carna does... A thing. A thing that she's immediately punished for. So. Good?

"The ones who have lost their sanity," Reiji asks, "What happened to them? Couldn't take their punishment? Or did their minds become as beasts as well?"
Carna     A gestalt entity, speaking through multiple vectors? A dismebodied astral form that can only intervene in the world through manipulating physical hosts? Bird magic that only made it seem like they were speaking his language? Translation effect bullshit? Enark has many theories, as he hikes up his robes and chases after the birds. He also has high hopes that they are leading him to Chibi Priscilla or to a different sort of Crow.

    Alas, they lead him to... A giant corpse. There used to be giants in Lumiere, but they were decidedly uglier than this longg-picked over cadaver, and did not possess nearly as sophisticated a set of attire. He takes in all that he can, simultaneously intrigued enough to investigate further, but hesitant enough to stay back. He sort of has some experience with dead things not being entirely dead after all.

    "Yes, well." he begins, looking at the scythe planted in the giant's back. "Hm. That is definitely a scythe." This is his expert opinion. Closer examination exposes the magic to all this equipment, and the familiar feeling of darkness infused into the weapon planted in the giant's spine. This is slightly beyond his bailiwick, but he is willing to examine and learn.

    And so, risking his own well-being, he moves closer to do so. He takes out a cellphone to record it all. Yes, he's a wizard, but he lived in the high-tech future before he died and became a wizard, he is totally comfortable with technology, shut up.

    Carna, meanwhile, does not take kindly to being shield bashed. She retaliates quickly, all matters other than disposing of a threat gone from her mind. A blade like solidified blood gleaming hungrily with the essence of despair and dying light, preceded by the sound of rattling chains, surges out of the shadows towards the one who knocked Carna back.

    She offered to take the box to Priscilla. As far as she is concerned, attacking her is completely unprovoked and needs to be dealt with by killing the offender(s). It's very black and white.

    In her head.
Reiji Arisu Oh. Wait, no. Carna is being /a plum fool./

"What is that woman /thinking?/" Reiji hisses, looking briefly to the conversational knight. "Excuse me, sir. I think that there is reason for this humble wanderer to unsheath his swords." Reiji's eyes narrow as he surges forward, a crackling shortblade sliding out from its sheath at split-lightning speed. As Carna swings, her weapon meets Reiji's own, the exorcist glaring at her from around the twining tendrils of lightning and the hungry aura of anti-light at war in the space between them. "Stand down," he hisses. "This is meaningless."
Priscilla     Staren leaves his tools in the nest. What happens to them is pretty much up to fate. It'll be days before he sees them again, but it might be decades or centuries here. Good thing immortals are known for not losing interest in things quickly.

    Tomoe has an easy enough time planting the apple core, despite the frozen earth. Likewise, though, she is trusting her intuition and her smarts. With the castle as a perpetual landmark, as well as the sun and stars, it shouldn't be hard to find again, and an apple tree out here is something people are really unlikely to chop down. It'll be a good meterstick, assuming it doesn't become some kind of orchard mimic or something.

    The launch in town goes off without a hitch. Of course people stop to point and stare at it, but without any solid basis to speculate on what it is, time seems amenable enough to it that it's almost certain they'll forget all about it in months at most. The satellite reads clear and strong, but the Flotilla know they'll lose that connection soon enough. The layout of the mountains happens to be convenient. If it stays above the central peak, it has a good view of all the surrounding areas at once.

    Kushiko's prowling, sadly, doesn't avail her too much; save one thing. The rather unremarkable statue of the robed woman outside the church, for whatever reason, stands out to her when she wanders very near to it. It is now utterly saturated in a very dark, and very ominous energy. Lying dormant, it still triggers a kind of danger sense just being near it. It wasn't like that before.

    The Berenike Knight, in the few moments before Carna inadvertently causes a scene, replies to Reiji. "Their bodies, their minds, even their souls. The weakest, the guiltiest, and the least repentent amongst their sorry lot. The others know, I'm sure, that to convince themselves that there were unjustly done, and that they have any business left with the world outside, will be the end of them. The Lady of Sin's punishments are not kind to those who refuse to accept their fairness. Most of them end up dead." No wonder the Pardoner is the only one seemingly untouched.

    Then it's a bit of a commotion, between Carna and Reiji locking blades, the knights crunching forward with half-ton footfalls, and the murmured shock of the townspeople intermingled with the flapping of disturbed crow's wings. Eryl, however, is already away with Andre, and the package is en route without disturbance. When they're a ways away, he decides to do the smart thing, and check that the object of import is actually inside of the case. He unwraps the lining, unfastens the buckles, and then slowly flips open the lid, to reveal a cube of dark, pitted stone almost the exact dimensionsof the box itself, marbled and grey with crude and strangely organic swirls of etched texture. In its heart, burns a small, pitch black flame, casting a colourless light that illuminates the inside of the box, but appearing as a fire-shaped absence of light to the eye.

    "My my . . ." croaks Andre, as perplexed by the strange object as Eryl may well be. "Well, I've never heard of a black Ember. It's strangely fascinating." He looks up to the castle heights, slowly approaching in the distance, his head already full of thoughts. "I see. This Ember really is something special. Hah! I'm already under its spell." Those last words are clearly intended to be a light hearted quip, but the way they come across falls flat, and unnerving seriousness betrays their levity. "I sense great potential indeed . . ."
Priscilla     It's too late to say anything though. Too late to change anything. When the Dark Ember is unveiled, the blackness of its flame explodes inside ones' vision, rapidly consuming their senses one after the other, leaving them only in that dark, floating, timeless limbo between worlds, suspended over . . . something. Something that is a little closer this time. The passage between worlds is a decaying orbit. Something that they barely get the chance to appreciate, before being dumped back in the throne room with the elastic snap of time.

    The song is a little louder this time.