The Skysail Treasure Co.

Little time passed from when Arlen yelled to Cyradis to freeze the floors to when a powerful evil spirit, perhaps a mage in another life, launched it's horrific assault upon them.

The beam barreled toward Cyradis. In this situation the most dangerous of the group, undoubtedly. Arlen's heart sank as he watched their hope fade with every passing meter of the red malicious energy being hurled toward their mage. Suddenly, their fates changed, along with the course of the beam. The skeletons even seemed to double back in fear from the beast that launched forth the attack. The change in the fate of two quickly turned to the fates of all as rocks crashed down around them.

Arlen's eyes darted quickly to his comrades but dust and rock pelted, crushed, and obscured the vision of them all. A skeleton crashed through the dust with gaping mouth and sword raised. Skewering the creature went to little effect as his blade fixed itself in the bony ribcage of his enemy. Its sword hand fell with the quickened stroke of death, to which end Arlen was not inclined to concede. Grabbing the skeleton's bony wrist, he shoved himself forward with a yell to equal the unholy and raspy snorting of his adversary. A great stone the size of an ur'ghatrel crashed down behind the skeleton, who slid on the half-polished granite with no purchase. It clawed at his jacked, tearing at his sleeve, as Arlen dashed it against the crag with as much ferocity as he could muster. It clattered and fractured against the rock, and yet still tried to fight with its last flicker of undeath. Arlen threw the mess to the floor and kicked the head of the still biting torso a distance worthy of song.

Panting heavily with scratches on his shoulder bleeding mildly, he found himself cut off from the rest of the undead rabble. He pulled his sword from the unmoving chest of the pile of bones and grunted in the heavy darkness, to which no mortal eye could probably attune. Death in solitude...

He heard a shuffle behind him and turned, his sword at the ready. To his amazement, he was not alone as he had originally thought. "Or death by sermon..." he muttered, watching the cleric dusting herself off, sword still glowing from an unknown fire. No doubt her sword and holy nature had attributed to her safety, Arlen mused sarcastically. Now it is her God's will to save my soul, too, probably. Arlen coughed and walked toward the woman and spotted a door beyond her.

"Come on," he said in passing. Approaching the door, he grabbed a torch beside it and touched it to her sword. It ignited and Arlen smirked. The door was old but looked in fair condition. Taking a glance at the Cleric, he took a breath. "The treasure is not gold for me, but my friends. I understand if it matters not to you, so do what you planned to and I'll go my own way... Agreed Cleric?" Without answer, he kicked the door in, the handle breaking off and wood splintering.

OOC: i'll allow you to post what is inside, if you wish. I just got tired of no activity on the board, or of my own. I've been trying to post the better part of a week!

OOC: I know I said afternoon, but I had some errands to do that I forgot about :p

Cyradis

She felt the ripple-effect of the powerful spell before seeing it cast. The minor fireballs and more complex bombs she threw almost drew her attention from the increasingly powerful spell being charged somewhere deep in the ranks of the undead. The caster - apparently a mage in its past life - poured a considerable amount of power into the spell. Seeing it tear through the horde of undead without so much as a pause, Cyradis knew she could not reverse the spell in time. Instead, she grasped the glass head of her staff and pulled an arc of electric purple energy from it. As the threatening spell came upon her, she released her mana into a shield-like spell that didn't absorb the energy of the opposing spell, but rather deflected it. She felt a slight boost in her own morale at having effectively neutralized the spell, but her victory was short-lived.

Moments after the spell was redirected, it crashed not into a distant wall or the ceiling, as Cyradis thought it would, but instead connected with a support pillar with enough force to tear it in two. The falling stones and groundshaking impacts did nothing to slow the undead's advance, though the sheer amount of falling debris crushed nearly every one beneath it. Cyradis didn't have much time to think on it, though. For all she knew, the whole room could come crashing down. While that may solve their battle against the undead, it would cost their lives as well. Cyradis yelled for everyone to run, but even she couldn't hear her voice over the destruction of the pillar. Survival instinct drove her to run to the nearest wall. She reached the wall just as the pillar hit the ground among the large chunks which had been blown off by the spell. The shockwave delivered enough force up her legs to buckle her knees and send her to the ground. She recovered to the sight of a veritable fog of dust and stone. Some movement persisted through the limited light given off by her staff, but once again, the room was thrown into darkness.

Feeling around, Cyradis found and opening in the wall and stepped through it into a small adjoining room with another door on the far side. Coughing lightly from the dust in the air, Cyradis heard a challenge from within the same room. The voice was familiar and she urged her staff to glow brighter. The light penetrated the less dense dust in the smaller room and showed Archamae in a corner with her crossbow drawn. After seeing Cyradis, though, she lowered the weapon. No one else was in the room, and Cyradis hoped others made it to safety. She walked over to the pilot and sat on a dishelved stone to calm her still shaking legs. She sighed deeply and looked back towards the door she'd entered from.

"We should wait a moment to make sure more of those pillars don't come down," she looked back at Archamae, "Then we can look for the others."


Kyra

Kyra never even saw the spell that changed the entire scope of their mission. After berating Arlen's arguably foolish decision, she had no time to explain to him what the Everlight was, let alone what it meant to her. The pressing attacks of the undead consumed her entire attention. Some of the creatures were more agile and harder to kill than others, but most of them lacked the individual thinking and sanity to execute successful attacks. Some blows managed to get through her defenses and connect with the chainmail she wore beneath her robe, but she suffered no injuries. Despite all that, her luck would get no better. Stone doesn't crack easily, and when it does, it's no sound a normal human would welcome hearing. Especially a normal human fighting for her life in the depths of some tomb several leagues from the nearest glimpse of civilization.

As the pillar came crashing down, enormous chunks of stone cut wide paths through the ranks of the dead. Kyra used these paths to escape the kill zone beneath the pillar. She didn't get far from the impact area before it hit and she soon found herself face-first on the ground with bits of rocks and dust showering over her. The terrifying event was all over at once with just the lingering sound of the dead shuffling around still trying to reach the living. Kyra stood and adjusted her helmet to sit correctly on her head. She brushed her robes a few times while looking around through the dim light of her sword. She heard a cough behind her and spun to face the direction from which it came. She held her sword up to shed more light on the shape moving through the dust. Moments later, she recognized the figure as Arlen.

"Come," he said, passing her and going to a nearby door. Kyra lowered her sword as he lifted a torch to the flames. They could certainly use the extra light. "The treasure is not gold for me, but my friends. I understand if it matters not to you, so do what you planned to and I'll go my own way... Agreed Cleric?"

In a moment of heresy, Kyra wondered what made him worthy of her help as he kicked in the door. The priestesses would chastise her for such a thought, but his lack of concern for the life of the friend he killed earlier was lamentable. They proceeded through the door which led to a hallway lined with unlit torches every couple dozen feet. Kyra lit those on the right and Arlen those on the left as they moved down the hall.

"All life matters to me, Arlen," Kyra spoke breaking the brief silence, "Sarenrae protects all life and is as the sun to the earth. Everyone is worthy of Her light... even if they do not believe. As Her cleric, I deliver the unjust to her judgement or see them redeemed." Kyra cast a glance at Arlen. He wore a somewhat sardonic expression, but offered no immediate rebuttal, so Kyra continued. "In the case of the man you killed, I'm guessing not your first, I scolded you out of principle. He was alive, Arlen, and we could have saved him. But down here, in this place, you have condemned his soul to whatever curse is upon this place. It is clear the damned souls here can not leave to whatever heaven awaits them. If he, and your living friends, are truly your most valuable possession, your obligation is the same as mine. And we must end the curse here by any means."

ARLEN

Through the hallways, The Cleric ran through her obligatory mission statement that she had probably gone through a myriad of times. She looked for a response and Arlen sheepishly nodded his understanding. Continuing to light the torches as they passed, Arlen chuckled.

"Then you think I have no faith in that our objective is one and the same. Or for that matter, that you'll be successful. You're here to clear a curse; we're here to take a book for our captain. Both are more than likely in the same place. As for anything of the theocratic nature... Let's just say that I have lives of two men in this body of mine. One as a man of faith in his God and one as a man of faith in self. So called 'Gods' to me are just bored children with more power than they know what to do with. They tinker in the lives of men." Arlen shrugged, "I have nothing against them, really. Some do good, some do bad. But they don't care, in the end. So neither do I. After all, isn't it some God that created the curse that you're trying to rid in the name of your own God? They play games on each other and use us as pieces. And so far no bolt of lightning has struck me down for any heretical sayings. I know of one God that owes me, but I doubt he'll hold good on it any time soon." Arlen sighed, tiring of the stale air and stale conversation. "On the point of our man I dispatched... We can barely take care of ourselves at the moment, and he more than likely would have bled to death or wished die. He was a man of action. So unless you could grow him another arm, I think I did him a favor."

His voice remained pleasant and neutral throughout the sermon of his own, peering this way and that, up and down the hallway. "There are, Kyra, things that we will never see eye to eye on, and you'll just have to accept the fact and move on. But I think we both can agree that we need to focus on other things at the moment."

Kyra

The cleric watched Arlen as he talked, trying to get some clue as to his thinking from his expressions. He said he had the lives of two men inside him. Kyra could only assume he was speaking metaphorically. Either that or he had some kind of delusion of another life. Such things weren't unheard of, after all, especially among the narcotic addicted slummers living in the bowels of Qadiran cities. Arlen, however, didn't seem to share much in common with those men - except perhaps his faith, or lack thereof. Kyra sighed and tapped another ensconced torch with her sword. The pitch-soaked head lit happily and spread its light a dozen feet down the hall.

"You understand very little about Sarenrae or any god, I think. Even I couldn't hope to comprehend the world on their level. They may seem fickle and careless to you, but what do you know of the future? Or the present in other places than here? You say a god owes you for something. Don't you think there's a reason he chose you in the first place?" Kyra sighed again, and turned her thoughts away from religion. Arlen wasn't one to be converted to her faith, and this wasn't the place to try, "Whatever you may believe, this curse is the creation of man. Likely the work of the cult I mentioned before, it shares much in common with their dark magics."

Kyra stopped walking and sheathed her sword as the hallway came to an end before wide arch. The arch opened to a large room lined with rectangular stone slabs spaced at even intervals along the walls. Arlen dipped his torch into what appeared to be a brazier at about eye level just inside the room. As it turned out, the brazier was connected to a small trench carved into the stone around the whole room. As the brazier lit, the pitch in the trench lit as well and a tiny river of flame circled the room all the way back to a similar brazier next to where Kyra stood. She looked at Arlen, and he shrugged as he casually proceeded into the room.

"A barracks?" Kyra wondered, "Perhaps this place served as a headquarters for Ptolemy's army before it became his tomb."

"... whatever you may believe, this curse is the creation of man. Likely the work of the cult I mentioned before, it shares much in common with their dark magics."

Arlen wanted to make the rebuttal along the lines of the motivation of power such individuals have leading to stealing powers from beings of other realms, but was stunned wordless as they reached a wide arch. Closing his mouth, he quickly scanned about and spotted a brazier beside them. Their dim lights revealed a fraction of what the trail of fire had. More than just a tomb?Ah well, he thought, shrugged, then started taking the short flight of stairs down into the pit. No different than any other crazy adventure with this crew.

"A barracks?" Arlen heard quietly behind him, "Perhaps this place served as a headquarters for Ptolemy's army before it became his tomb."

Arlen's boots softly patted on the floor and he stopped, twirling to take a look around. "A stronghold you mean? Could be, with the weapons he was supposed to have gone up against. I'd use original caves too." He waved his index finger at a few of the slabs. "Not the most efficient organization, but there's probably a lot missing now. Or there is more to this room than it's simplicity suggests. Why give it such illumination? A way deeper into the fire?"

He was equally puzzled and looked at the Cleric. "So... Shall we see if there are any exits to further enigmas and conundrums? I am curious to see you work on this curse of yours."

What had he done? Even as the throng of undead lumbered their way towards them, it was the only thought he had. A familiar feeling washed over him, although it had been a welcome stranger for many years now. Everyone reacts differently to death when you're staring at it in the eyes, and for Gabe it was a quiet, yet chilling acceptance of his fate. Over ten years ago he'd felt it when he was a Captain in the militia, fighting beside his countrymen who had also risen to the call to defend their sovereignty from the insatiable appetite of the Empire, and once again dreaded calm filled his body from head to toe.

He pulled himself out of his trance long enough to fire a shot into the swarm, but it was like throwing a pebble at a tidal wave. God's, what have I done? he asked himself again. Glancing around at his friends he watched as they bravely fought to stem the inevitable. Kaltor and Drice fought ruthlessly with their swords, hacking at and dispatching anything that came within reach, all the while shuffling back, unable to hold a line. Cyradis and Arch were even working together, and he watched with an almost fatherly satisfaction as the two worked together to slow the skeletons advance. Even Seph had joined rushed into the fray, artfully executing her peoples form of combat, which seamlessly blended dance, gymnastics, and martial arts. Jade. Sure, her brother couldn't die, but she was a doctor, she shouldn't of even been near this place. She seemed too pure to arrive at this kind of an end.

It was happening all over again. He'd led his squad to their graves.

From his left a grinding sound caught his attention and a pair of pistols skidded across the floor to land in front of him, followed shortly by a young woman with flowing light brown hair. One of her sleeves was rolled up, and the skin on her arm appeared to be covered in some kind of script. For a second instinct took over, and he leveled the pistol directly at her head? But in this bizarre set of circumstances, he highly doubted she could be any more of a threat than what was already coming at them, and he lowered his gun, and instead extended his hand.

"You picked a bad location to stumble into," he commented dryly and nodded towards the skeletons that made up the moving wall of bone. Despite his attempt at levity, she wasn't paying what he said any attention.

"Quick, help me close this door," she practically barked at him as she took his hand and pulled herself to her feet. As soon as she found her footing, she sprinted towards the door. Something about the command broke through his trance, and he raced after her. Together, shoulders pressed against the cold stone, they managed to swing the door closed just before what looked like a shrieking banshee could get through. The noise, however, had left them both on their knees.

Panting together, the woman turned towards him, "Thanks for that."

"My pleasure. Now, if you have a similar solution to our problem," he pointed down the hall, "I'd be most anxious to hear it."

"Hmm? She turned her head and Gabe could feel her eyes go wide. "Gods! We've got to get out of here," she didn't even bother dusting herself off, and instead picked up her pistols and got ready to fight. He admired her fighting spirit. Gabe did the same, although he flipped his around so he could bash the living hell of out those unholy creatures.

"My name's Gabe, I'm-" he started before she cut him off.

"The name's Tara. Save the rest for when we get out of this mess."

"Fair enough," he replied.

"Oh no."

"What now?" he looked at her.

"They have have an undead mage." Even as she spoke, the ball of energy that was speeding it's way towards Cyradis and Archamae became deadly evident. He felt helpless as he watched it destroy the skeletons in its path. The remaining crew all looked for cover, and Tara tackled him to the ground just before the missile slammed into Cyradis. A second later than he expected, there was a massive explosion as stone and dust scattered over the entire hall. A vibration gripped the tomb and it became evident that part of the ceiling was about to collapse. Everyone was scrambling in different directions looking to get clear. He stood and tried to gather his wits, but he could only see a portion of his crew and had no idea where the others were. No time to pine.

"Seph! Kaltor!" he yelled, "Get them out of here!" he pointed towards Jade, Amateira, Aram and Garin. The two seasoned veterans didn't flinch, and quickly found a staircase and formed a pocket for the others to duck behind. "Come on, we've got to go too." He and Tarra were at least twenty five yards behind though.

"Hurry Gabe!" Sephara's voice was lined with desperation.

A louder, more intense rumble suddenly shook them off balance, he saw Kaltor, Seph, Jade, Am, and Aram all get sent tumbling down the stairs. A rock had been shaken loose from the roof and it crashed down right in front of Garin, sending him sprawling backwards. Even though the man had only signed on back in Gebron, Gabe would never leave any of his crew behind so long as he was alive.

When they got to his body it was thankfully clear of debris, but the man looked unconscious. "Help me drag him!"

"Where?" she asked.

Gabe scanned collapsing hall for an escape. "There," he nodded towards a small archway that looked like it opened up into a larger side tunnel. Together they dragged him through, and just in time. A massive portion of the hall must have been caved in now. They were sealed off from their friends, and lost in an ancient burial shrine.

"This was not what I had in mind when I brought my crew here. How is he?"

The blue eyed newcomer looked over Garin, "He's alive... I think."

Gabe bent down beside the locksmith and slapped his cheeks, "Garin? Garin?!? Wake up man!"

OOC: I'm back ^_^ I'm probably going to stay at this new job, which means things are stabilizing in my life, and I had a boat load of downtime at work today, so voila. I've sent the "leftover" crew with Seph and Kaltor. SoHee, I wasn't sure if you'd be rping, but I of course will be there with Seph if you want to. Ren, hope you're ready for some RP. And WF, I hope you're still around. It feels good to want to write again.

And lastly, sorry for any spelling and weird phrasing, I didn't have time to re-read =p

...

"-rin?!? Wake up man!" A moment before, in the darkness of his mind, he thought he felt a bee sting his face. His hand raised as his eyes opened, and rubbed his cheek. Looking at a man above him, it took a second to recognize the Captain.

"G-Gabe? Ah... better than waking up to Arlen's beaming disposition... Urgh!" He winced as he stood up, his head pounding with protest. He could feel the spot a rock, a pebble compared to what fell in front of him, had fallen on his head. Garin felt lucky it had been no bigger. "Jade?! The rest of them?! Did we make it to them?"

Gabe's lips stiffened and he shook his head briefly, "We're cut off. We'll find them."

"Serves us right for entering a man's eternal rest, hey?" Garin got to his feet, noticing the other person and that she was not part of their crew. Yet. People always seemed to pop into existence around the ship. She was pretty enough. Garin nodded in her direction, "Garin Wiljatai. Aside from lost, you are whom?"


OOC: Short post, but don't really know what else to do from there.

As the horde of undead started to move towards the group Jade almost gagged by their putrid smell. She had been around dead bodies before, but this was different. It didn't make it any easier that the bodies were moving. All she could do was to keep herself from retching and horrifying witness Duncan's death. When he had falled she had taken a few steps forward, to help, but quickly stopping by the shocking image of Arlen. She heard Jasper mumbling something to himself.

<...not surprised...>

This was not the man she had come to know and respect. Not when she could at least have gotten the chance to try and save Duncan's life. The thought was quickly forgotten as she was pushed back by the others. Suddenly she found herself next to Garin. Everyone but them seemed already in the middle of the battle. Shakily she held her short-sword in front of her, feeling more than a little out of place.

Garin raised his hand and rested it on her shoulder. "It'll be okay," he said. "I'll make sure you're alright. Just stick close, okay?"

His voice calmed her down a bit and her hands steadied. She gave the locksmith a thankful smile. Jasper was already holding his sword in front of him, blocking her view slightly as he had stepped in between her and the dead. It seemed to her that some of the heads turned directly towards Jasper, seeing him when none of the living could. As the first one reached Jade and Garin Jasper swung his sword and to Garin and the others it would have looked like a shadow had suddenly come to life, revealing the image of a male version of Jade, as the sword hit flesh. In the next second he was gone until the next time the sword hit something solid. And so he went back and forth trying to keep the skeletons away.

One of the skeletons managed to sidestep Jasper's attack and before he could turn to help more were coming. Jade swallowed deeply before she raised her sword. When steel hit flesh she felt nauseated. She was a Doctor, a healer. Even if the bodies were already decaying it felt so wrong. The act itself was so far away from the core of her being that it could be. Only once before had she harmed another being. She froze, eyes drawn to the fallen body in front of her. The world around her became blurry only to vanish in the next blink of an eye. It felt like she was standing inside a black void, alone with her dark memories. Only the loud explosion and the warning shouts from the crew brought her back to the present time. Before she had any time to react Jasper threw her aside. Together they rolled around on the ground until they hit the wall. A bit disoriented Jade stood up just to find Kaltor dragging her away.

"Jasper!" she yelled and saw him hurry after them out of the way of the large falling rock. The reaction of fear was unwarranted of course when it came to Jasper, but logic eluded Jade.

Together with Kaltor and Seph, Jade tumbled down the stairs. They ended up in a heap by the bottom of the stairs, bruised and scraped.

"Is everyone okay?" Jade asked with a low whisper, afraid to draw any unnecessary attention to them. She winced as she stood up, holding her left arm. It wasn't broken, so much she could deduct for herself, but it hurt like hell.

OOC: sorry for the delay :( but finally got a post up, long overdue :)
Geco - ooh goodie you are back! When this scene is over it would be great to start working what we talked about for the twins :)

...

Cyradis

Cyradis' head turned slowly towards Archamae as she began to talk. She was nervous and rattled; a state in which Cyradis had never seen her. It wasn't disconcerting so much as eye opening. Everyone broke down eventually, but Cyradis never imagined Archamae would simply because she was underground. Technically, they were still above sea level. No, Cyradis thought, it was likely due to their drastically lowered chances of survival. Archamae probably figured they wouldn't make it out alive and felt whatever need to apologize to Cyradis for that. Archamae certainly had crimes to answer for, but getting them stuck down here was not one of them. Cyradis sighed and stood, taking her staff in hand.

"Don't sound so grim. If it comes to it, I'll make us a way out. I'm not dying in some cursed tomb for whatever evil to control my spirit," Cyradis turned towards the dark hall and squinted her eyes. The light from the staff allowed them to see, but only just far enough not to fall into a hole or run into a wall. "Besides," she continued, "that qu'soa undead mage needs a little payback for getting me stuck here." Cyradis turned back to Archamae and smirked before setting off down the hall.


Kyra

"You have a strange way of showing your lack of faith, Arlen," Kyra remarked as the two tried their luck messing with various objects in the room in the hopes of triggering a door leading away from the barracks. "You question the existence - and power - of Sarenrae, yet you believe I me when I say I can rid the curse of this place. Or are you mocking me?"

Kyra came to a spot on the floor where the pattern of stone slabs was broken by one of the slabs being replaced by one half the thickness and made of a different type of stone. Possibly a replacement due to damage, but there was no evidence of fighting having occurred down here and none of the others, even the cracked ones, were replaced. Kyra walked around the curious slab looking for some kind of trigger.

"I think you should visit a temple," she said sarcastically, "You would make a fine priest."

Kyra stepped on a dust-covered, square, brass protrusion from the ground next to the slab. It took some force to get the out-of-place ornament to move, but it eventually clicked. A cloud of dust kicked up around the replacement slab as it began to slide into the floor aided by the sound of laboriously turning gears. It slid down twice its width before the gears clicked again and some other mechanism began to turn, forcing the slab to slide lengthwise into the wall. After it was all done, a steep stairway was revealed.

"How cliché..."

"You have a strange way of showing your lack of faith, Arlen," his companion noted. "You question the existence - and power - of Sarenrae, yet you believe me when I say I can rid the curse of this place. Or are you mocking me?"

Arlen's head was in the air as he looked at the double vaulted ceiling. The craftsmanship was quite exquisite. Nearly Dwarven in precision, in fact. "I think you should visit a temple. You would make a fine priest." Arlen's attention refocused on The Cleric, and he smirked. He was about to respond before she found some lever or switch of some kind, revealing an exit. Or rather, a way deeper into the rabbit hole. "How cliché..." she seemed to sigh, almost disappointed it wasn't easier.

"For all of the vastness and spectacle of the place... I couldn't have said it better myself." He pressed ahead of her down the stairwell. "Who do you think taught me my beliefs but priests and holy men? Of course, they intended otherwise." He shrugged as he took careful steps into the unknown. " I doubt neither the existence or the power of Sarenrae. I just think she's more selfish than you imagine. Gods empower the fools who make these curses. It seems to be the job of rival gods' puny slaves, like yourself, to fix these things. We're their play things, forced into service through fear and piety. I don't claim to be an expert in magic, but do you think it possibly to be their world colliding with our own? We seem to have no natural affinity or aversion to it through blood. It is an individual thing for the most part. Except in the case of Gods... They giveth and they taketh away at a whim."

He shook his head, "I refuse to play their game is all. I have nothing against their enforcers as long as they leave me alone." Arlen waved the torch ahead of him, checking to see if it was clear. The air was stale, just as everything else. Arlen pondered on how they shouldn't dally in case the slab moved back quickly and separated them. Things like that tended to happen in this company of airmen. "If you must know, I trust in your abilities. Which is why I take the lead. If something were to happen to me, my people would be better off. How would they leave without coming face to face with that army of the dead again, unless you could end it for them? I am driven by logic, and a different sort of faith. Faith in my fellow. After all, if they truly were immortal, beings like us couldn't bind and enslave gods using their own shared power. Neither would they have use of gender. They use people of a certain creed. Love, fire, bravery," he gestured to Kyra, "The sun and light. The darkness. People flock to such things. They are a danger and a menace to us. But they also serve their purpose."

Arlen clamored further down the stairs with drawn sword. One could never be too careful. There was ahead of him a passageway at the bottom of the flight of stairs. Further ahead, two intersections in view, a passageway leading left, and another leading right. "Hmm... Left would take us back a bit. The army and my friends. Right would take us further into the beast," he mumbled to himself. "Take Kyra to the curse, or take her to my friends?" The thought of undead bodies dragging themselves across the palatial tomb decided for him. The greater threat was the curse. Eliminating it would do the best good.

"To the curse, or to my friends, Kyra," he offered, pointing to the respective directions. "Which would do the greater good in your eyes - in the eyes of your Goddess?"

Kyra listened and followed Arlen down the stairs as he elaborated on his beliefs. She could understand the skepticism behind his words. They were familiar to all clergy of any faith. Some people needed proof, others needed much more. Arlen was one of the latter. Millennia ago, before the gods revealed themselves through miracles, people only wanted proof that they were there. None had shown themselves or directly intervened in the affairs of mortals, and many non believers weren't convinced of the gods existence. After all, how could a good deity allow things like famine, plague and war to continue unanswered. Mass suffering was common those thousands of years ago. Eventually, things changed and people saw proof of their existence, but not not all were convinced of their divinity. Short of becoming a god himself, Kyra doubted Arlen - or anyone else - could ever truly understand them.

"To the curse, or to my friends, Kyra. Which would do the greater good in your eyes - in the eyes of your Goddess?" Arlen asked her as they came to a fork in the narrow hallway.

"You believe in logic, as you say," Kyra wasn't averse to questioning his beliefs either, "so which is more logical? I'm not a zealot, Arlen. Sarenrae tells us we are to protect the helpless and redeem the evil. Your friends are far from helpless, but they could be injured. The way we came is blocked from the crashing pillar - that much I noticed after I realized I was still alive. So what is the most logical step? To proceed deeper and hope to find another exit at the source of this corruption. Your friends, if they can move, will have the same option unless they find an exit along the way; in which case, they would be beyond the need of our help."

Kyra proceeded down the right-hand tunnel with Arlen. "If I were here alone, I would have gone this way. There is and evil here that threatens to grow past this tomb. Here, it is barely contained. The implications of this army spilling out from this tomb into the world spell certain suffering for this region of the world. They may only be a couple hundred walking dead here, but each felled living soul adds another to their ranks. And as you've noticed, they are not easy to kill themselves. I know you and your friends didn't come here to save anyone's soul, but I did. If we fail, know that your sacrifices will be honored by Sarenrae and Her followers.

"I'm happy to die for the Everlight," She said smiling, "Whatever you may think of Her, she is trying to help people. It may be goal far beyond even the reach of a god, but it is worthy of your respect." Kyra stopped and drew her scimitar. A thin line of fire outlined the blade as it left the scabbard. She also pulled the icon of Sarenrae from its pouch on her belt. As Arlen looked on with a mix of curiosity and confusion, Kyra knelt removing her helmet and placing the tip of the blade into the ground and holding the icon above the pommel. She bowed her head and touched her forehead to the icon which began to glow brightly. After about a minute, the light from the icon pulsed rapidly and dissipated. Kyra stood and returned her equipment to their proper holdings.

"It's dawn," she explained, placing her hand fondly against the wall with her eyes fixed in the distance beyond it. Kyra closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Let's continue," she said as she set off down the hall once again.

Arlen nodded as she spoke and stood beside her while they walked on to the right, away from his crew mates. Kyra performed a minor ritual, which at first he was interested in. He felt his stomach begin to turn as she performed it. To his appreciation it was brief, his stomach thanked her."It's dawn." She seemed relaxed and coddled by knowledge of the rising of the sun. Kyra walked down the passage and he put a hand against the wall to keep his world from the slight vertigo he felt. Quickly he followed her, trying to seem unaffected. Always when I'm close to magic use, he thought. What's with this stupid dizziness lately? "Ahh, yes, respect. Well, so far, you seem pleasurable enough of company. Worthy of my respect, as you have given it to me in listening to my rantings. As her representative, she has given me respect. Therefore, it is owed to her in fair measure." Arlen nodded in agreement.

Continuing to pace down the hall, Arlen was getting increasingly weary at the mention of dawn. "Perhaps it is not the best time, but would you allow an aging man a moment of respite? This marks about two days we've been traversing this tomb, with little rest or food. I require but a moment." Realization was the greatest factor in such things. Keeping watch in the dark hours of morning only to see the rising sun mid-shift made you realize how early it truly was. That was the hardest time of day to keep one's eyes alert to the distant horizons. She nodded, after a moment of hesitation and Arlen sank down the wall and sat. He prodded without looking through his bag, finding a tiny wheel of cheese left over from before. tearing the waxen seal, he released the pleasant aroma of it. Pleasant in comparison to the stale dankness of mold. Biting through the wheel in only a moment, he felt revitalized. "Thanks," he grunted as he rose to his feet. "A morsel of a breakfast, but it will do nicely." Arlen half-smiled and walked on.

"I know what you are thinking," he muttered, several seconds later. "But my soul is beyond... saving... as you call it. Moving to another plane is one thing. Perhaps the gods move to them to their own. Heaven, Hell; whatever they wish to call it. It's nothing your God, or any other, can change, but I will never be free to pass over. This is my own burden to be condemned and untouched by proper deities." Again, fumbling in the darkness of his pouch, his fingers discovered the pipe. Taking it out, it was already packed down with laced tobacco. With a bit of overkill, he lit it with the torch, ever so gently. From around the pipe he continued, with a brief puff. "Not the least of which is the revenge I feed by need for redepmtion. Only one more soul, as you put it, is on my list." He looked at her and his eyes seemed to glaze. "What do you think of one who kills his kin with glee, I wonder? What about when this same one would die for a stranger?" Even as he was speaking the words, he thought of Gabe. Still, Arlen was pondering why he would protect the man with his own body when he had barely known him a week. Was he just that charismatic? Was there more to it?

Kyra took the brief pause to eat a bit herself. Some beef jerky and a bit of water. She was low on rations and there was no telling how much longer they would be down here. They needed to find some water, she realized. Caves and such were often sprung with leaks, particularly ones under mountains such as this. It was only a matter of finding a vein to draw from. Food, on the other hand, was not as readily available. They could survive a few days without food, but none would be in any condition to fight. Kyra thought of Sarenrae and what Arlen said. He would wonder why a god wouldn't simply create a feast for Her devout cleric neck-deep in evil doing Her bidding. Kyra would like to think she just might, but knew better. If Sarenrae could do such a thing, she could solve hunger problems everywhere. Kyra had faith Sarenrae would protect her soul, but the mortal journey must be lived by the traveler, not the god he worships.

It wasn't long before they were moving again. Arlen produced, of all things, a pipe. Tobacco, by the smell of it, with something extra added. The collage of smells filling the tomb was becoming overwhelming. The filth of the undead, the burning pitch on the torch, and now the added aroma of pipe smoke. Kyra shuddered a bit but shook off the feeling. During all this, Arlen saw fit to continue their conversation, ending with a question for Kyra. She supposed he wanted a theocratic answer, but the result was more intellectual.

"Depends on the person, and on their kin. Many people are hostile with their siblings. When your life mission is to help people and hunt evil doers, you often find both in the same place. I've struck down many people in Her name, and none of them undeserving. I've also redeemed many others who I saw turn their lives around to live in Her light. Of the redeemed, their crimes ranged from theft to murder and everything between. They chose to change their lives. It's not my place to judge the crimes or virtues of anyone.

"As for dying for a stranger... well I think my opinion is clear already. I'm here with you, after all, and I would die to protect you from this evil," Kyra gave Arlen a smile, "Though I would take it as a kindness if you chose not to hold me to that oath."

...

OOC: Hey SoHee, send me another wave just to clarify what precisely you want us to expound on. I don't have access at work, but I'll check when I get home. My memory is fuzzy, but I can't recall any specific conclusion from our conversations. Also, Ren, do you know if Erica is planning to come back any time soon, or has she departed for the moment. Her character not being well established, I don't want to prp her more than I have to.

Gabriel Solomon

Gabe let loose a thin grin as he helped pull Garin to his feet. "At least you can remember your name, that's a good sign," he said after the introductions. "Here, let me take a quick look," he moved closer to try to examine any the man's head. Gabe was no doctor or surgeon by any stretch of the imagination, but having served in combat and in all his years on airships he'd seen plenty of wounds. Eventually, you started to recognize what was what; what was fatal and what was superficial. His fingers traced a rough outline of the man's head, but as squinted to try to get a closer look, he realized the problem. "Well, it doesn't seem like you're any worse for wear, but without some light I can't be sure." One look into Garin's eyes gave him his answer, so he turned to look at their new friend, who folded her lower lip and shook her head. Trapped and cutoff in hostile terriotry, and now with no light to guide them, things were not looking overly optimistic.

"Right," he said, trying to sound as upbeat without being overly cheerful, "then I suggest we pause for a few more minutes."

Garin nodded, "Let our eyes adjust. It's something at least." Gabe nodded in turn, but couldn't help but note the familiarity Garin spoke with. The man had called himself a locksmith. A euphemism perhaps? He may very well be skilled with such devices, but on what side of the spectrum did his skills lay. Gabe filed it as a note, and left it for the moment. Even if the man they'd picked up in Gebron was a thief, it wouldn't be the first he'd served with. But, as with everyone else, he was concerned about Garin's motivations from being on the ship, and what consequences those motivations might have for him.

Slowly but surely the Captain's eyes adjusted to the low light, and he was able to follow the hallway as it led off for several yards before before consumed by more black. Tarra, evidently, had noticed the shift too. She was up examining the walls as if caressing a lover.

"Are you looking for something?" he asked as politely as possible.

"Hmm," she muttered without breaking her stare.

"Tarra," he spoke again, more forcefully.

"Oh," she seemed to have just remembered there were other people with her, "I'm just looking at engineering of these walls. Incredible isn't it? It must have taken thousands of workers, more like slaves," she lowered her voice in a joking manner, "to complete something like this."

Uamused, Gabe decided to play along for the moment, "How lovely? And did those workers leave a map for us to follow by any chance?"

"I'm not sure, let's see," she sounded almost expectant. Liked she be able to satisfy his request. Gabe shot Garin a puzzled look, who shot him an equally baffled one back.

"What exactly did you say you were doing here?" he asked.

"I didn't," she smiled. "I came here to try to explore the tomb so I could study it. There's so much about the Chaeronan culture we don't know after all, and so what better place to start than a tomb built to honor their greatest general. Not to mention the gaps in history that might be filled in by any artifacts still sealed in here. How could a scholar, any real scholar, resist such a chance." Gabe thought he saw a twinkle gleam in her eyes before she turned them onto the other side of the hall.

"You did hear the stories about it being haunted though... right?"

She didn't seem to hear him, "Here it is!" she exclaimed, proud of her accomplishment. Puzzled, both Gabe and Garin rose to their feet and huddled around her as she pointed near the top of the wall. "It's written in the more aristocratic Chareonan, but it's not so different from it's common sister. It says, I think, 'Path of Feats'. Well, that makes perfect sense. Come on, let's go." She turned and began to walk off down the hallway.

Just before she disappeared Gabe muttered to Garin, "She is a bit of a strange one."

"No kidding. And gods bless her for it. That eccentric minx is our ticket out of this place." The men shared a laugh, and quickly raced after their salvation.

OOC: Ack! Time to work. I promise another post soon for Seph SoHee, just ran out of time =P

ARLEN VE'GOUGH

The opium-laced tobacco took the edge off of his body's weariness as he puffed away, listening to her explanation and watching her uncomfortably crawl in her skin while he smoked. Finally, after a few seconds of thinking, Arlen nodded. "So you say it is not your place to judge, but that you have struck down many who deserved it... Did Sarenrae reveal their judgement to you? And where is it the place of a being who knows not personally the struggle of a man to judge his condition. Does she read hearts so easily? Even a man doesn't know the depths of his treacherous heart. Is she so interested and clued into the lives of all men and women that she knows past deeds, thoughts, and motives so as to pass judgement of evil or good?" Arlen grunted and shook his head not buying it.

"I have killed people deserving of it by law of any land; for treason and desertion. Not for what was in their hearts. I admit, the feelings of my own heart played a part in the passing of the judgement of that law. Playing judge and executioner, I can say that neither part suited me and I regret it all. I have one more to play the role for, for a separate crime. Every day I ponder the outcome of the trial - whether it to be innocent or guilty. For no matter which I scrutinize, the scale stays even and so I continue to judge." He stopped and sighed as he looked at the girl before him, his own face a pained expression of sincerity. "Young woman, I know you feel right now you are not a zealot, and that you are doing the right thing... But let me assure you, let enough time pass and you will wonder whether you were right at this time or wrong at another, and it will haunt you. You can't play either judge or executioner without at some point feeling regret or sorrow. Otherwise you turn into me. And that is hardly human at all." He quickly shook his head in disapproval of himself and walked on, coming finally to an unexpected spiral staircase winding upward. A good omen, except for the fact that portions were missing from it. Arlen raised his hand, to silence the beautiful female cleric before she retorted.

"A team effort... I wonder how far up it goes, and to where." It was a dead end otherwise. Lack of option or choice tugged at Arlen's heart. A linear path was never what he preferred. A life of rebellion to the norm almost always added up to making one's own road in life. Arlen looked behind, his eyes narrowing. "Perhaps we made the right choice of tunnels with that right turn. Though, I feel perhaps we must move quickly from here." There was a distant noise like the clatter of something falling on stone. Barely perceptible to his keen ears. "This place gives me a headache," he said, rubbing his temple. He bowed, letting Kyra continue the conversation where he left off. He walked up the staircase up until the first gap and crouched, pushing his thigh out and a offering sturdy hand to help Kyra clamber up the steep stairs.

GARIN WILJATAI

"So..." Garin gently started his inquiry, "If we survive but our pilot doesn't, does it mean we have that twitchy blond kid at the helm? I sorely hope you can fly your own ship well enough to get us to a port." Clearing his throat he patted his chest while following the crazy scholar, "Sir, that is. Ahem, yes."

Nervously, he pulled a coin from a pocket sewn into his jacket and quickly tumbled it through his fingers. "One would imagine there would be indicators of some kind for direction in here." A bout of vertigo hit Garin and he lost his balance a moment while the tunnel spun. He dropped his coin, losing it in the near complete darkness. "Ahhh!" he growled. "I hope there's gold at the end of this rainbow."

Kyra

"Now I understand," Kyra said as she took Arlen's knee in place of the missing step and turned to offer her hand to help him cross the gap. Once they were both across she continued, "You've never been to Qadira before have you? Certainly not the province of Kelesh. That's where I'm from, and it's the center of worship for Sarenrae. Her influence is beyond Kelesh, though. I'm sure you've celebrated the summer solstice before? The Sunwrought Festival which occurs on that day is our holiest day."

Kyra paused to scale another gap, this time their roles reversed. She wondered briefly how far up the staircase went. The entire tomb was designed as if by some eccentric artist on narcotics. Random passages and staircases of varying size and shape seemed to litter the increasingly mysterious underground complex. Kyra half expected this one to lead directly into the ceiling or simply stop.

"Kelesh is Sarenrae's land. Her law is the only law that exists there as written in The Birth of Light and Truth. That is the measure of justice for me and any cleric of Her's. If it is forbidden there, it is forbidden everywhere. Not all punishment is death, however, and everything in the pages is not black and white. Sarenrae knows the flaws of humans. There was a time, long in antiquity, when she and the other gods walked among men. It wasn't until a mortal killed a god did they retreat to their Domains and guide us through messengers, visions and dreams.

"At least, that is what the book says. I tend to believe Sarenrae and any other gods out there do visit the mortal world often. People mostly focus their attention on all the things that make them angry or sad or jealous. This blinds them to all that is truly worthy of their attention, and causes them to question the gods. Humans are selfish, myself included. It's just in our nature to think inward. I think what really separates a god from man is the unconditional ability to think outward. Even you were selfish is judging yourself not worth your own life or wondering how your own actions impacted the life of these criminals you mentioned. It was their choice to transgress the law. You shouldn't feel responsible for their fate. It's not always about evil and good, as you put it, or the integrity therein."

Much to Kyra's relief, the staircase did lead somewhere. Of course, she didn't know where exactly, but she could feel the corruption getting stronger. Either they were getting closer, or it was spreading faster than she thought. She desperately hoped for the former. At the top of the staircase a metal grate opened on a hinge into an unlit room. Taking Arlen's torch, Kyra tossed it into the room near the grate and climbed through. As before, a brazier was tucked into a corner of the room. Kyra lit the brazier to reveal another nondescript hallway of grey walls and some petrified wooden boxes stacked along them. Kyra sighed and gazed down the hall with just a hint of resentment. They proceeded, albeit begrudgingly, down the hall.

"You make it sound as if I simply walk up to a person and strike them down after somehow viewing their soul. Those that I've killed are usually criminals or have explicit intent to harm someone. Most of the time, a rational person chooses not to test their mettle against a cleric of Sarenrae. If they choose not to fight, my purpose is fulfilled. If they choose to attack, I must defend myself. This part of the world is very different from Qadira and Kelesh. People don't take me very seriously. I'm afraid defending myself against highwaymen and brigands has become a regular occurrence. Apparently, a young woman travelling alone, despite being armed and warnings of retribution, is perceived as an easy target for such men, but the Dawnflower watches over her faithful, and has seen fit to guide me to you and your crewmates."



Cyradis

Fight or swim? Cyradis certainly wasn't enthusiastic about either. On the one hand, there was the water of untold depth that once they entered would be unable to to go back lest they be attacked by the untold number of undead waiting just beyond the light of her staff. On the other hand, the submerged passage could lead to safety, or at least a reprieve. Knowing the number and tenacity of the dead they fought in the antechamber, the water seemed the best option. They would not be able to hold out against the dead for very long.

Gripping the staff, Cyradis jabbed the head down the hall, sending a fireball into the darkness. Not waiting for a result, she propped the staff against the wall and pulled her robe off over head. If she was going swimming, the saturated heavy cloth of the robe might very well threaten to cut her trip short. The fireball exploded moments later as Cyradis reclaimed her staff and dove into the water. The light remained shining, and the water was surprisingly clear. She could see for several dozen feet. Apparently, the water had been leaking in for quite some time and was, as a result, naturally filtered through the stones. The explosion and collapse of the pillar probably just widened the crack.

Cyradis swam, following the stairs down a few feet before being emptied into a hallway. She saw Archamae keeping up behind her, but the coldness of the water and panic made moving through it difficult, and Cyradis was no marine. Her knowledge of swimming was elementary at best. After a few moments of strained progress, she could feel her lungs beginning to burn. They passed a couple doors on either side of the hall, but any rooms down here were likely flooded. They needed something that led upwards. Cyradis let out a stream of bubbles as she failed to hold back the air any longer. She swam a few more feet before the light from the staff revealed the smooth, magically carved face of a dead end wall with an open door on the left. With no other option, and with her empty lungs threatening to take in a deep breath of fresh water, she ducked into the door.

The light showed the entire room with no exits. Cyradis's face now betrayed her panic as she frantically clawed at the water and kicked her legs upwards. But her strength began to fade as oxygen-starved muscles were pushed well beyond their limits. Finally spent, Cyradis looked down with only one option left. She let herself sink down to allow Archamae to come even with her. They stared at each other for only a second before Cyradis grabbed the pilot by the waist and thrust the head of her staff down. If there was stone above them, even as much as few feet above the water with room to breathe, they would be killed by the impact, but there was no other choice. She held Archamae tightly so as not to loose grip, and released the energy built up in the staff. A jet of bubbles sprayed from beneath them as the energy thrust outwards and turned the water to steam.

They streaked through the water for a few dreadfully long seconds before breaking the surface and being thrust out over the water at least ten feet. Cyradis released Archamae as they fell back down into the water, relishing in the deep breath she took before plunging back into the still bubbling water. For a moment, the two just waded there in the pool as they caught their breath and relieved their tired muscles of their thirst for air. Once she was able, Cyradis took a look around the room. It was quite large and had ornately tiled steps leading in to the square pool. Cyradis swam to the steps and lifted herself out of the pool which very nearly claimed her life, and laid on her back on the dry floor still thankful for presence of air and the fact that she was alive to breathe it. Eventually she sat up and looked at Archamae who wore a similarly relieved expression that they were alive.

"We should dry our clothes," Cyradis commented before laughing out loud in spite of their situation.

...

Cyradis

It wasn't long before the clothes-drying efforts were underway. Archamae had strung a sturdy line across the room and the two had draped their clothes over it as close to the large oil basin as possible. Cyradis set the spark that lit the oil and sat close to the fire completely nude. Bath houses like this were common in Kell among the aristocracy. Early in Kell's history, their culture revolved around nature and communal baths were often places one could feel in touch with it. They were more often used as a form of status declaration, as filling the baths with various soaps and fragrances was an expensive endeavor. Still, though not a noble by any stretch, Cyradis had spent her fair share of time among the baths.

"Cyra, I owe you a great deal of appreciation. I'm not certain I would have made it this far without you," Archamae suddenly confessed.

Cyradis grinned and brushed her damp hair away from her face and behind her ears. "You could have, I'm sure. Not as stylishly, of course, but still..." Cyradis trailed off laughing lightly and casually sweeping her hand in front of eyes. They sat in silence for a moment before Cyradis' thoughts turned in to conversation.

"This room reminds me Kell," she said, admiring the fresco and tile work, "Young girls at the University were often hired by Kellan noblewomen to accompany them in the lofty bath houses in the richer cities. They'd have us put on little displays in these green tunics cut to look like leaves or stars or whatever fit their taste. Everyone wanted something different. Noblewomen are awfully vain creatures."

Cyradis stood and moved to the hanging clothes to check their progress. The heat from the fire spread quickly but the room was quite large and the air was dry. Cyradis imagined servants would boil water near the braziers to spread the steam and raise the room temperature. For them that would only serve to increase the dampness in the clothes. As it was, their garments were still quite throughly soaked. Cyradis turned to look back at Archamae who'd gone to occupying herself by staring intently into the fire. Cyradis herself felt her gaze drawn to it. Everything was so simple now. It would even be pleasant if she wasn't acutely aware of what chased them down here and what awaited them when they left. After some time in thought, Cyradis pulled her still slightly damp undergarments from the line and put them on. She moved back to the fire and sat next to Archamae.

"I'm sorry for my reaction... before. I was still pretty shaken up. The war... it was difficult for a lot of people, and you clearly aren't proud of what happened then. It's just so easy to direct your hate and resentment at those that attacked us on a personal level. I can't forgive anyone for what they did to us, but... I just want you to know I understand."

OOC:Serious Brain fart... I apologize for not posting ... will do so immediately!

P.S: Geco, thank you for playing her. I was getting a little lost on how I should play her and you helped me a bunch.



IC:

Tarra tingled with excitement as she followed the corridor into the unknown. Her fingers trailed along the wall, feeling each and every crack and bump. It seemed a strange thing to think, but it felt as if the the walls were alive. They pulsed with an energy that she could not understand. It entranced her and made her feel as though she were home. Though strangely she did feel safe, not like a home should feel.

Tarra mumbled under her breath. Reciting everything she knew about the Chaeronan culture,which wasn't much, like she was going to be quizzed on it. It was a strange habit she was barely aware of.

"One would imagine there would be indicators of some kind for direction in here." Garin said just before he lost his balance and lost the item he was playing with. "Ahhh!" he growled. "I hope there's gold at the end of this rainbow."

Tarra's laugh was sweet and sultry as she turned and faced the two men in her company. " If you ask me, I would rather find a light at the end of this tunnel." She paused. " I don't think they intended to return here, thus a permanent map and set of directions would be pointless. Though, I suppose they would need one when they were building, so as not to get lost...." she turned back around and continued down the dark corridor.

...

"One would imagine there would be indicators of some kind for direction in here." Garin said just before he lost his balance and lost the item he was playing with. "Ahhh!" he growled. "I hope there's gold at the end of this rainbow."

Tarra's laugh was sweet and sultry as she turned and faced the two men in her company. " If you ask me, I would rather find a light at the end of this tunnel." She paused. " I don't think they intended to return here, thus a permanent map and set of directions would be pointless. Though, I suppose they would need one when they were building, so as not to get lost...." she turned back around and continued down the dark corridor.

"Light and our friends would be preferred," Gabe chimed in. He was a little taken back by Garin's quip. Was the man really so baseless to be worried about finding treasure at this point? "You're probably right about the map," they had entered a chamber decorated with murals and paintings of battles, at least that's what he thought they were, it was hard to distinguish with no light, "but they obviously left markers or sign posts to tell people where they were. You said this was the Hall of Feats?" Tarra nodded. "Don't these look like armies fighting on the walls?"

Each of his companions took a step closer to the wall and squinted. Garin broke the silence, "If I had to guess, I'd say that's what they were."

Tarra crossed the room to examine the same picture as Garin, "I think so too, and look!" she pointed with excitement, "That must be Ptolemy. I saw the same figure on the other wall. It's a series of chambers depicting the General's Feats!"

Gabe was nodding while looking for the exit, "How else can you brag when you're dead?" He didn't say anything, but the confirmation that this was a sort of tour of Ptolemy's accomplishments was a good sign. It was an offshoot of the main hall, and seemed to run parallel to it. That meant it must reconnect somewhere down the line. He felt an ounce of hope return. However, it was crushed by the realization that wherever it connected could very well be filled with those undead soldiers. Not to mention there was no way back from here. Until the found their way back to the main hall, they wouldn't be getting back to the ship.

Tarra had busied herself studying the drawings, mumbling things about their accuracy and what little details each gave away, but it didn't concern Gabe. "Come on, it's this way," he had felt a slight draft coming from the far corner, and sure enough there had been another passage which already looked like it led to another room.

"So Garin, tell me, why did you decide to join our merry band? You seem more like the self-preservation type, if you don't mind me saying so. This kind of life doesn't usually attract your type."

-o0o-

Sephara Na

Just as Jade and Amateira caught up to them a violent tremor threw Jade off balance. Pin-balling first off Amateira, who was pushed to the right, Jade collided with both Kaltor and herself, sending them all tumbling down the stairs in a heap. Each revolution brought another bruise on her body, as the stair edges, though smoothed over considerably from erosion, bit into her much softer flesh.

As they all collapsed in pile at the bottom a cloud of dust and debris spewed over them, and they quickly ducked their heads and shielded their eyes. After a few moments there was no more noise except the echo of a few pebbles still bouncing somewhere off ahead. Jade was the first to regain her wits, "Is everyone okay?" she asked with a low whisper.

Sephara grunted as she rolled over slowly, testing all her limbs to make sure they still worked properly. She didn't feel any immediate pain beyond the cuts and scrapes from their fall. "I'm fine."

"Me too," Kaltor growled back.

"Not me," Amateira winced as she rose to a sitting position, cradling her right wrist, "Hurts bad. No move." She hadn't been off the island long enough for her common to improve beyond basic words and phrases. Jade didn't wait for an order, and immediately went over to examine the injury.

"Well this is a first," Kaltor said dryly.

“What’s that? Being trapped in a tomb?” Sephara asked as she got up on her feet.

“No,” he replied, “That I’m unhappy about being trapped with only me and three other women.” Kaltor, uncharacteristically, winked, and a layer of tension evaporated. “Anyone have a light still?” This time the smiles evaporated.

“I can make some, give me your sword,” she held out her hand and took the heavy blade. She placed it on the ground alongside her own ronin blade and etched some symbols into the dirt, forming a circle around the weapons. “Give me some space,” she instructed. The pirate took a step back and cocked an eyebrow at her.

She began with the song. In her native tongue she began to hum. At first it was no louder than a whisper, her voice was almost timid. She began to slap her leg, creating the beat to which she would dance. As her voice grew she slipped out of her immediate surroundings and into a world rarely seen. As she did so, she began to dance around the circle. Twisting her body with the beat, hopping on one foot, dips and pivots, but all fluid and smooth. Sephara called to the ancestors of her people, beckoning them for their help. In this world they were all around her, with wide smiles and peaceful eyes. This was only one face of this shadow world, and she knew that all too well. There were unseen borders that when crossed held things and beings with much more unfavorable dispositions.

Each dance was different and required different… distances to be traveled. For what she was doing now, she knew she remained quite safe. Others required you to travel farther, seeking out more powerful spirits. No one knew for certain what the boundaries, and indeed, even among the elders in her own tribe, there was debate as to whether these other worlds were different for each individual who crossed into it. With as much power as it held, it was equally as mysterious, and possibly even more dangerous. No one knew. The enchanting possibilities of this realm had caused many who ventured here to lose their way.

As she reached out to the spirits of her people they grasped her arm, and she felt a surge of energy course through her body. Opening her eyes she was back in the tomb, standing frozen over the weapons which now pulsated with a soft blue glow. Retrieving them, she handed the sword back to Kaltor who took his blade and looked at it like it was now something completely foreign.

“It’s not going to make me like you, is it?”

Sephara only smiled. A bit of mischief spread across her lips. She turned to the other two, “How is she Jade? We need to get moving. I’ll take the front with Jasper and Kaltor you take the rear.” There was no hint of doubt, no room for questions. Getting out of here alive required venturing deeper into the tomb, and even then it wasn’t a certainty. But one thing Sephara knew for certain was that nothing was ever achieved with despair. So they would move, and let the path take them where it willed.

ARLEN VE'GOUGH

As they emerged into the new hallway and out of the stairs, Arlen's headache seemed to throb just slightly harder with every step forward, and even upon going up the staircase. It still wasn't bad, but was growing to be an irritation. Something in this place doesn't agree with me... Is there one like T'a'u'weke here? Bound?

"For which, I am glad. Despite your spiritual leaning, I think you'll get along well with all. Speaking of which, I should warn you if you haven't already guessed... We have a spirit among us, bound to his sister, Jade. He is quite friendly, and a protector of his kin and our crew. From what I gather, though it is an assumption from discussions with Jade and others, it is because of his sacrifice that he is where he is. What exactly happened, I don't think anyone knows, though. I ask you leave him alone." It was a request that he knew would unease Kyra, being that most Clerics made it their business to hunt such as he and rid the world of them. "We have a shaman aboard, the second mate, that you've met. Sephara is adept at seeing such as he on his way. As far as I know, she has no aspirations to do thus. I could be wrong," he shrugged.

He cleared his throat and looked at Kyra, studying her while he formulated a diplomatic reply to the topic. "So. humans supposedly killed a God who then fled in fear. A smart move for one with superficial power. Perhaps it is we who are greater. Perhaps with their power channeled through us, we can do greater good than they can." Arlen grinned in a manner not invoking provocation. "The world may never know."

Nodding, Arlen answered her question of worship of the sun. "My people also had a practice of Sun worship, in a sense. They, like Acacians, had a ritual of greeting the day's sun. Slightly different of course, over the time that it might have migrated to them. And though I have never been to Qadira, despite it's relative proximity to my old land, I will try to make a voyage when we get out of this place to further my spiritual education. If the Dominian doesn't pay me notice as an exile." Arlen sighed, thinking of his charge, Amateira. She should have stayed aboard.

Shifting uneasily as he walked and thought of her, what state she might be in at the moment, he lowered his gaze to the floor. "I released a God from being bound to a man. A primitive chieftain with a lust for immortal life. For that I am cursed by the God to take care of his priestess who travels with me; now stuck in this tomb along with us, if she lives. The chief's son and I were on quite friendly terms . He is the man of God that I spoke of before, who lives in me, and I in him. I tell you this because you mention being attacked despite your representing Sarenrae. If this priestess or he were to walk proclaiming the laws of T'a'u'weke, people would think them mad, asking: 'Who is this?' of their god, in jest. I must admit, I knew nothing of Sarenrae before speaking to you. Unfortunately, spheres of influence have much to do with the matter. You are a missionary in these parts."

Arlen gestured with his bandaged hand. Thereafter, he tucked his torch into his elbow and produced a small knife. Carefully, he sliced the bandages open to reveal a mostly healed burn on his palm. Raising it to Kyra's view he smiled. "I've played my part as a holy man to appease a tribe needing a spiritual answer. Just as I am a simple man who played a minor role I look at these gods as simple people - in their realm - playing a greater role than they really have a right to. Whether it be love of us, or hate of us, I don't see their right to meddle in our affairs. Just like the scale I talked about earlier; they sway it one way and the other, always with a neutral outcome. Does greater strength or power determine right to rule? That is one of my greatest unanswered questions. Unanswered in a satisfying way. For me, I don't think there is one. I have seen T'a'u'weke with mine own eyes and I saw him in the form of a man made of lava. A show of power that was superficial, as he needed a weak human to aid him - he, with all his power."

Arlen shook his head. "It isn't that I don't believe in gods, Kyra. I just see them as another race, not as a creator or my own God. Just a being with more power and energy than myself. When I saw what I saw I wondered if I saw God, and realized that again, I have not. A true God would not have to show himself to anyone, or justify to anyone his rights. By human representative or otherwise. He would just do what was good in his - or her - eyes."

--------------

GARIN

"... you sound like the self-preservation type, if you don't mind me saying so. This kind of life doesn't usually attract people like you."

Garin grinned and a moment later chuckled. "Well I'm glad I'm so transparent, ha! Actually I've always been on the move. I grew up in a circus, until I found that my acrobatics and quickness could be used in other ways. After a bit of trouble with the law, I decided to do a little adventuring and honest work," Garin shrugged. He gently coughed and mumbled, "Mostly... I'm sure you're no stranger to necessary evils yourself. Exhibit A, Gebron..." Garin giggled and shrugged again.

"Nah... I actually hadn't been in Gebron too long. A season, about. Sort of a boorish place. I decided to stay there when I got word of my fellow airmen organizing a mutiny. I'm not into pointless bloodshed, so ducked out of the situation peacefully. I think my sin of occasional kleptomaniac tendencies is much better than what my slave-masters in Furcania had planned for me... I'd of turned out like that knife-master... What's his name? Drice? Maybe not that good with a knife... I'm not far behind though. Heh heh heh..."

His eyes glistened as he squinted and saw a flash some distance away, as brief as it was. "If they took the trouble to carve all this out, then it's supposed to be a thoroughfare, isn't it? Usually, in places like this, they're painted too. I wonder if time took the paint, or if they never got to finish it before all these dead guys showed up. Maybe they even turned into the dead guys." He pointed down the hall, "But something metallic is down there, with a very dim light." He drew his sword and an accompanying knife as a main gauche. "I don't know if it's a decoration, but often times important halls like this open into something grandiose. I just hope there isn't something else waiting for us when we get there... Hopefully just friends."

OOC: Opportunity for Darlok to debut his character at the end of the hallway. a small tomb perhaps that they think is ptolemy, but too plain. Undead could file in and Darlok's character could already be in the room somewhere. maybe the tomb and Tarra's inscription awakens him or something. How long was Darlok's character in the tomb already?

Kyra

Kyra laughed, genuinely amused by Arlen's words. As her mirth receeded, she pulled her icon from its pouch and placed the alabaster statuette in his burn-scarred hand.

"You are an opinionated one, aren't you? And full of interesting stories. Did it ever occur to you that a god must work through others? That people ask gods for their help and guidance? Sarenrae did not come to me and place me under her will to forver be her slave, Arlen. She was, at one time long ago, a member of this world as you and I are here. She is a god because people love Her and their love is returned. If no one were to worship Her, she would not have the need to 'meddle' as you put it.

"The time has long passed since gods needed to visit the mortal realm to intervene. Should they need to do so again, I fear there would be unspeakable evil already unleashed on us. She, and others of her kind, may not have asked to be our patrons, but we give them that responsibility. I want all people to know what I feel in Sarenrae's light, but I do not force my faith on anyone. I simply preach to those who will listen. Admitedly, few have taken my sermons with credence since I've been in this part of the world. I'm afraid spreading the faith is not the purpose for which Sarenrae has blessed me."

Kyra smiled and placed her hand on Arlen's still holding the idol. She parted his fingers and lifted the icon. The burn scars were completely healed and the statuette was glowing faintly in its eyes. "You see? Those who have the power have a responsiblity to use it."

Kyra gently placed her idol in his palm and he felt a warmth. He pursed his lips, not asking for the aid. A stabbing pain hit him behind his right eye and he blinked. I didn't ask for that...

The young Cleric continued to speak of things beyond her years, as she called him opinionated. Arlen had to grin at her reply, despite the pain in his head. As she spoke of evil, coming from gods that might have wished to come back to the human realm, and the responsibility that humans have thrust on perhaps unwilling individuals something touched him. Somethings. It reminded him of his last year in office back home. As Dominia bore down, calling claim to the land since before their time unjustly, they looked to his youthful vigor to give a fresh boldness. He hadn't asked for the job, but he was elected regardless by the council of elders and the people of their small capital. They told him that he was, "ready to take the responsibility he was born for." In truth, at the time he felt that it was a move of desperation. No others were left, and the council was for the most part too old to physically lead a battle charge. They had spent their years grooming replacements that left in the first sign of danger.

Anger and sadness flashed forth in Arlen's heart. He hardly heard the rest of her statement until she placed another hand on his. He was gripping the idol tightly now. If it weren't a blessed item, his powerful hands might have crushed the fragile-looking idol. Taking the idol gently from his hands his anger was pushed away, leaving only the sadness behind. He looked at his hand, only a small scar remaining.

"You see? Those who have the power have a responsibility to use it," she stated, as gentle as her touch had been. He noticed the faintly glowing eyes of the statuette and used it as an excuse to look away from the young woman's face.

Arlen felt a lump growing in his throat as he thought of "Her" and cleared his throat. "Perhaps what you have yet to learn is that it must be used properly. I think with age and experience you'll have the opportunity. You have first to bring old men to ultimate despair as they see their young boys march to a war they have no hope of winning. I lost my people, and they lost me - long ago. I didn't ask to lead them and they thrust it on me. I had to watch cities burn while I was the sole defender. My siblings had fled to let them rot." He turned to face the corridor's assumed end and back to Kyra. "Kell fared better, but still lost it's sons. This time I asked for the responsibility. For that, I lost the love of my life." A tear threatened to fall from his eye as he felt a stab at his heart. It was his hesitation that cost the lives of his people. He should have acted on the field of battle much quicker than he had. In Kell, it was his brashness. His plans often worked, yes, but at the cost of lives in a brute force attempt to break the lines of the enemy. Not the least of which failings was losing Raedette in his foolhardy carelessness.

"Don't think I didn't ask all the gods I could name for help that day..." His eyes grew red and bloodshot, his fist balling up again. "Not one gave me an ounce of grace but the god of blood and war as I slaughtered anyone I could reach." His eyes softened while he looked into her own, his fist relaxing along with them. He looked at his hand again, at the once wounded palm. "Then again, I am healed without asking for it too." Putting his hand on Kyra's shoulder, he nodded. "Thank you, for my hand. Unfortunately, some other wounds take more to heal than a holy item can provide," he said, eluding to his comments.

With torch in hand, Arlen pressed forward into the tomb. Taking a shaky deep breath at the relived emotions he glanced at the boxes on the other side of the hallway, wondering what was in it. He motioned to Kyra at the box and gave it a nudge with his foot. "Shall we see what they were storing?"

In retrospect there were things she might have done differently. Her teachers, cyradis included may never have condoned sitting in the middle of a battle oblivious to her surroundings as very nasty dead things tried to take her life. However she had something that they did not have or at least not in the measure she had. Faith. Bundles and bundles of faith. Faith in the destructive and protective powers of her brother who faught frantically against the undead to keep them at bay. Faith in the goddess to protect her devoted children. Lastly though it was new in her mind, a sense of faith and purpose in herself. Drice had carried her, this crew had carried her. It was time to let her own self shine. It was time to pull her own weight.

Her eyes glazed over as she mumbled the prayers, in reality the words were trivial simply a meditational exercise to focus the mind. With a snap of clarity she began to trace back the invisible thread she had quietly spun since they arrived back through wandering maze of the hallways they had not only explored but been lost within. Nepheli was the goddess of nature. It had only taken her a day to realize from the grown tension of darkness that permeated this wretched place that her powers were limited trapped beneath the earth and stone. But in theory by leaving this tap or connection to Nepheli in the outside world she thought that she could reconnect with the vastness of her strength. A theory, like an irrigation system only instead of water it was magic that she syphoning to herself.

She took a deep breath...

"We need..."

...it stretched on to an eternity...

"...to go..."

...panic began to set in nothing was happening.

"...NOW..." her brother hissed as something tore at her cloak. She screamed a high pitched sound of pure terror and nepheli's power slammed into her. The chenkari snapped around her dozens of little orbs of light danced like fireflys illuminating the packages of rotting flesh that stumbled towards them. Several headless aboniations littered the floor around her. She glanced at her brother red spots glistening were he had gotten to close. Her eyes burned he had been hurt for her. As she watched he sprang up off his back heels slashing with his right blade towards the middle of the creature beset upon her.

She screamed again. This time there was no terror, no fear only raw anger and power echoed through the chilling night. Two of the orbs flashed one ducking beneath his blade the other coming above. As they neared the uncoming surge of undead they began to expand and flatten til they were blazing white discs. They slid through the bones like butter slicing neatly and clean through opening a path. She caught a grin and nod of respect from Drice.

Darkness bounded towards them. She could feel the dark crafter gathering strength. She flashed her fingers in signal and Drice responded. With a nod she sent two more of the chenkari through the swarm cutting a path through the wall of flesh to a doorway. She scrambled to her feet and began running through the opening before the creatures closed ranks. Boney fingers snapped around her ankle and she pitched forward scraping across the floor. A blade flashed taking the hand at the wrist and her brother pulled her up.

The world went dark again. The spell crashed into the center colums the ugliness of the magic made her want to empty the contents of her stomach. Though this was not a good place for it. She tried to raise herself but failed. Drice's took hold of her and with impossible strength born of adrenaline and desperation he heaved her towards the door. She landed short relaxing her body and using the momentum to tuck into a roll. As her feet returned to the floor she shot up and ducked through the doorway as the ceiling came down.

Her cheeks were damp she hadn't realized she was crying. She should be worried about the others. In a time like this she should be terrified that she was alone. But it was the brief realization that Drice had not come through that doorway. He always came through. She had let him...

"I leave you for a few seconds and you revert to crying?" Drice teased weerily. She nearly bolled him over as she launched herself at him burying her face in his midsection not ashamed as the tears fell. He brushed her hair with his fingers. "Shh...none of that little one. Its ok now." he tried to reasure her.

She punched him in the ribs hard and smiled when he she received a grunt. "Don't you ever scare me like that again." she admonished him. "I was..." she choked down the sobs "...so scared you were gone."

"Never little one never." she didn't notice the sadness in his eyes....
_______

His entire body ached. It was a wonder they were alive. He glanced down the narrow hallway that they were trapped in. The Chenkari danced around uncontrolled by the emotional little girl that cried in his shirt. He felt the wet spots where her tears landed and burning pain racked his chest. He had nearly given up. Nearly accepted his death because of the Maktah that hunted them but that selfish. The dead left nothing but pain the dead left people alone. He would not, could not give up. He would see Cailey grow up, he would see her happy. And damned the fool that tried to get in the way of those plans.

His story wasn't over yet.

"Its broken." she growled looked at his left wrist that dangled uselessly as his side as it grew into a dark purple. He had used his left hand to redirct a falling stone and although it had missed his head the great weight had caught his wrist at unheatlhly angle. "I can heal it but..." But it would take energy from both of them. He understood that much of healing he shook his head sheathing his right blade. Using one of his throwing knives he cut of his pant legs loose slicing it into a long thin strip.

"Save your strength. I know magic when I see it and we will need you to be at full strength when we meet up with that dark wizard." She opened her mouth to protest but he placed a finger upon her lips stiffling a laugh and she looked venemously at him. With her help they one of his twin blades into his left hand. He didn't think he could be effective with it for very long in a fight but at least it was something. "Now then what to do."

Cailey's eyes sparkled mischevioulsy. "I have an idea you will just have to trust me." He nodded unsure of what she was doing. Although he took point Cailey led from behind. He had seen her use her senses before to find people and locations. On the island they had been trapped upon she had not only found the ship but had taken them straight to the villagers camp as well. Magic was something he would never understand but in the end he didn't need to. He simply had to have faith in her.

They continued to travel for how long he was unsure but his wrist was nearly numb. He doubted it would stay that way, part of him cringed thinking about the first time he took any weight on that blade. Maybe he should have relented and allowed her to heal him but his instincts told him to conserve her strength they would need it. Not to mention if they found the others her healing talents might be better used then. He reached into his pocket and produced the small flash of luduanna red he brought with him. The flavorful liquid brought a warmth to his bones as he took a sip and replaced it.

"So are you going to explain what you are doing? Or should I just guess?"

Cailey paused frowning at yet another corridor. Pausing to see just which way they should. "I told you that I can't really get a feel for this place. I think it has something to do with that wizards powers so I can't cast my senses out...though it could be just because we are underground and Nepheli's power isn't quite so..." she paused. "I am rambling." she muttered sounding distracted. "Well remember when we got seperated before."

How could he forget he had warned the captain about how dumb that plan had been. "Well I cant sense locations but I can sense..."

"People..." he nodded.

"Mainly Cyradis. I can feel her aura, just a general location but I figure if we keep moving towards her then eventually we will run into her or the others."

He smiled with pride. It was the ability to make use of what little you had that you made you special. She was scared he was sure, but she was calm and determined. She was in the middle of a crisis that would shake most men to their core and yet she moved like it was another day. He wished her to have a happy normal life but he was also happy at how much she had grown.

She closed her eyes and nodded to the right. They followed the hall until they came upon stairs leading down. He could feel a gentle warmth coming from below. He thought he heard voices but continiued carefully so as not to make a sound unsure of what might be awaiting him. He had not unsheathed his other blade instead he held his left hand, blade tied in it up into a guard position. He finally descended the last of the stairs and beheld a sight he was nothing short of shocked to see. A horde of undead, a legion of maktah warriors even a couple of dozen lunatic necromancers would have never fazed him. However two attractive scantily clad women sitting on the floor was enough to simply stop him dead in his tracks.

Cailey ran into his back muffling a curse. She glanced down at the sight of the two women and turned on her brother jabbing a finger in his chest. "Drice MALEHN!!!" her voice trickled a hint of power. He turned quickly finding a spot on the opposite wall to stare at glad that the Kamir covered his burning face. Cailey giggled and turned to the women. "Sorry I can't take him anywhere." she bowed her head at Cyradis. "I told him I could find you."

"Lady Mage, Archamae. I am pleased to find you." he mumbled a curse at his choice of words...

"You did well my little Sherika." He didnt have to see to feel Caileys smile. Sherika was ancient juvarian for Burning Star

OOC: I don't think Darlok is coming back anytime soon from what I understood, and given that we have a few MIA people already and some NPC characters we're carrying between the lot of us, I really would prefer to avoid introducing anyone new who isn't going to be more regularly played. So, unless Darlok says otherwise, I'm not factoring his new guy into the equation... and it sounds like we could probably kill of Aram if we wanted ^_^ What better place than a tomb?

IC:

The Captain bit his tongue when Garin mentioned Gebron. He felt like grabbing the man’s throat and ending his prattle then and there, but it was a harsh emotional response to say the least. Beyond that, in their current predicament, it seemed like more an excuse to vent some anger he’d been building up over his own mistakes and decisions. Violence wouldn’t help them here. He had to stay calm.

There had been a time when once, shortly after the fall of his homeland, that he’d let his rage get the better of him. The cloudy mixture of his emotions often resulted in beatings, whether he’d been on the giving or receiving end usually depended on how many drinks he’d had that day, and how big an opponent he’d picked out to quarrel with. Perhaps fate had intervened then, or perhaps it was just pure chance, that had seen him take a job escorting trade goods through the Emiru’s territory, that he’d been too drunk to fight against the raid when it came, and that he’d been captured and his fate to be decided by an apprenticing Spirit Dancer in the tribe.

Fate and chance. Two sides of a coin that he could never escape.

Gabe squinted and looked where Garin was pointing. Sure enough off in the distance was a feint glint. The somewhat reformed thief drew two blades in preparation for any nasty surprises. Up until now Gabe had forgotten that he had fired a shot back in the main hall, and he’d been carrying an unloaded gun. Before remedying the problem though, he took a step in front of Garin and stopped, waiting for a small gap to form between themselves and Tarra.

When he was certain he could speak with relative privacy, he turned to face Garin, “Listen well. What happened in Gebron was not my intent and I had no hand in that. The line of work we do may not always fall within the technical sphere of being legal, but I think it best you realize something, and realize it quickly. Me, my crew, my ship… we are our own society, with our own codes. We don’t kill innocents, we don’t take from people that can’t afford to be taken from, and we generally toe the line, crossing only when absolutely necessary. I don’t mind nimble fingers, when used appropriately, but don’t take us for some sort of depraved bunch of outlaws. We’re an orderly bunch, and you’re welcome to be a part of it, but be sure it’s what you want. I won’t tolerate vigilantes aboard my ship. Clear?”

He felt a bit like an over zealous school teacher giving his first lecture to a pupil, but he’d kept his tone even and soft throughout. It was not Gabe’s intention to belittle or aggravate, but simply to inform Garin of the ways things worked.

“Let’s go then,” he finished and they hurried to catch up with Tarra.

...

Kyra

Kyra took the statuette back from Arlen with a larger smile on her face. She held the icon as delicately as if it were made of lace. Arlen was a more deeply complex person than she'd originally thought. Kyra could tell he needed guidance and closure for the things mentioned in his past. She knew well the feeling of helplessness at the sight of her family, village, and home being destroyed. Unlike Arlen, she'd vowed to keep that from happening from as many people as possible. Arlen vowed vengeance, but he needed redemption. Now Kyra understood why Sarenrae led her to Arlen. She understood more completely why she was with him in this tomb.

She slid the icon back into its pouch as Arlen moved to one of the boxes and gave it a probative kick. Kyra approached the box and pulled her scimitar from its scabbard. The blade remained flameless as she wedged the sharpened edge beneath the box's lid and pried the ancient nails from the wood. It wasn't a difficult task. With the lid loosened, she gripped it with her hands and pulled free of the box. She tossed the lid aside and waved the cloud of dust away to reveal it filled to the brim with arrows. Down here, in the dryness of the tomb, they were in near perfect condition. Kyra picked one of the arrows from the box and gave its edges a test with her finger. Still very sharp, indeed. She tossed the arrow back into the box and moved to open the next.

"Where was your village, Arlen?" She asked and she pried another lid off, "I've been to many parts of the Empire since I left Kelesh. I may have come across it."


Cyradis

Cyradis laughed to herself as Archamae danced into her forever-warped leather leggings. The fact she was able to get into them at all was both remarkable and fortunate. It would be rather awkward if she had to explain what happened to her pants in nothing but a blouse and undergarments. Cyradis folded her arms and watched as Archamae finally fastened the button in the front with a sigh.

"I'm starting to see the benefits of your robes," she remarked, to which Cyradis grinned and pulled her robe from the line.

"It's not all good. It still pretty damp, and gets hot in direct sunlight. And as you can see, I don't wear much underneath-"

Cyradis' head snapped towards the door as she heard a voice. She reflexively dropped the robe and threw her hand towards her staff without drawing her eyes from the door. The magical weapon flew from the ground into her waiting hand as Archamae drew her repeater. Moments later, the figure of a small girl came bounding from the edge of the light provided by the fire. Cyradis relaxed as she recognized Cailey. Her young apprentice came up to them both and gave Cyradis a slight bow as Drice entered their vision walking backwards. Cyradis gave him a confused look but directed her attention to Cailey.

"I'm glad you made it, Cailey," she said, leaning onto her staff, "We haven't seen any of the others since the pillar collapsed. We somehow ended up in the drainage for this bath house. We were just drying off..." Cyradis motioned towards the few articles of her clothing still remaining on the line. "Can you sense anyone else? Like you did back on the island?" Cyradis glanced at Drice who was trying very hard to see through the darkness. "You can turn around, Drice," Cyradis smiled, "we don't bite."

“Listen well. What happened in Gebron was not my intent and I had no hand in that. The line of work we do may not always fall within the technical sphere of being legal, but I think it best you realize something, and realize it quickly. Me, my crew, my ship… we are our own society, with our own codes. We don’t kill innocents, we don’t take from people that can’t afford to be taken from, and we generally toe the line, crossing only when absolutely necessary. I don’t mind nimble fingers, when used appropriately, but don’t take us for some sort of depraved bunch of outlaws. We’re an orderly bunch, and you’re welcome to be a part of it, but be sure it’s what you want. I won’t tolerate vigilantes aboard my ship. Clear?”

After a moment of pause, the steady Captain nodded. "Let's go then," he said and turned. Starting to follow after Tarra, he missed Garin smirk.

"Clear and free, Cap'n," He said and chuckled. Walking after Gabe, he shook his head. "I like you Gabe, but all those things you talked about just now... Why do you think I left when I had a chance to be first mate? Heheh... Those involved were not the people for me. I want to make my way honestly. Crime is a hobby, one that won't interrupt your life a bit. It's a challenge of theft more than the item... It's why I have a thing with puzzles and locks. It satiate's the idle hands. Let's be honest though. This tomb is no doubt has a lot of treasure at the end of it. I just hope it wasn't a waste of our lives is all." While he followed beside Gabriel he gave the man a quick look, before being concerned again with whatever is at the end of the hall. "Actually, I joined your crew because of Jade, by the way."

"You shouldn't encourage him." Cailey whispered with a grin at Cyradis.

Drice shook his head biting back the retort that he nearly snipped back. Instead he removed the Kamir allowing the thin scarf to fall from his still burning face and dangle loosely around his neck. He studdied the scene carefully, of all the crew to get trapped together it was only fitting that these two found themselves forced to rely upon themselves. He nodded. The fact that they had not killed each other, or turned him to cinders meant that possibly they had worked out their differences. At the very least they had found a short peace. He was surprised to find that he hoped it was the first scenario. He was getting soft, he was starting to like the crew to much.

Cailey for her part knelt in prayer in obvious focus, most likely trying to ascertain some sort of location of the others in their crew. It was astonishing to think of the abilities she had. He was sure that there were other mages with both more power and discipline, but it was the child like imagination that made her unique. She always considered things she could do rather then focus on what she couldn't. To use the wind so to speak to map out locations he had made use of that technique many times in the past few years since the fall of Juvaro.

As he waited he found himself considering the two women, Cyradis in particular. The woman had captured his sisters attention which was a difficult thing to do. Up until this point he couldn't think of a single person she had shown any interst in. Her magical talents were probably a part of that connection but it was the simple caring grace she carried with her. There was something...nurturing about it. But beneath that positve and friendly exterior there was a welled up darkness beneath. He had seen, had felt a brief release of that pain. Pauseing in reflection he realized that he was starting to admire her other attributes as his eyes cast down upon her legs. He was glad he was still in the edges of the light bathed in the shadows perhaps they would cover his momentary look.

A sudden stab of guilt overwhelmed him. He had not so much as looked or thought of a woman in that way since Arieko. Memories began flow and the pain threatened to take over. Bottleing it up he took a deep breath letting it go. Now was not the time for any of this. Be here now, he reminded himself.

"Its no use." Cailey hissed. "None of the others have as strong of aura as you and this place feels....dirty." she shivered.

He glanced over at the pilot reaching into his pocket and produced the flask of luduanna red. He wondered how Cailey would react if she learned the woman's origins. "Looks like we do this the hard way then." he said aloud. He lifted the flask with a nod to the women. "A toast to friends makes it easier to wander in the darkness." He took a deep gulp before caping and tossing the flask to Archamae...

...

"Fair enough, and probably a wise decision to leave," Gabe replied. "And I know Jade was the reason, I just didn't want to say it before you did," he smiled. "Besides, I'm not sure it was a wise decision. Jade's fairly distracted..." he wasn't sure how much else to say on the matter of her brother. It wasn't the kind of thing she just told someone, and it wasn't Gabe's place to say anything more than that. Although he was pretty sure Jasper had made an appearance back in their fight against the horde.

"And please don't get me wrong. I actually like having guys like you around because it keeps things simple. Your motivations are obvious. I don't have to guess why you're with me or what you'll do in certain situations. The less drama the better," the word conjured recent memories of Archamae's and Cyradis' fights. He wasn't innocent himself or void of any baggage from his past, but damn could baggage get in the way of getting things done. His thoughts immediately switched to the present, and full recognition that he had no idea about what had happened to them put a lump in his throat. The women, despite their differences, would see eye to eye someday, at least he believed that, and he was looking forward to that day where they could all be friends again. The last thing he wanted was to see them hurt... or worse...

Swallowing hard to rid himself of the lump, he thought he'd try to explain himself to Garin, "I fully realize I'm a hypocrite. I’m not oblivious to that. I just happen to have my own odd moral code, I can’t even really explain it,” he shrugged and checked over his shoulder for anything coming behind them.

Garin caught his movement, “Expecting company? The corridors impassable. I’m no engineer, but I’m pretty sure of that much.”

“You’re right, it is blocked, but there might be other passageways to get through.” Garin obviously didn’t follow what Gabe was getting at, so he explained, “Our friend up there popped out of a hole in the wall… a secret door. I haven’t been able to spot any so far, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there. Come to think of it, keep an eye out yourself. You’d probably have better luck finding something like that than me.”

As they entered the largest chamber yet, the shiny metallic object Garin had pointed out stood dead center. Beyond that, Gabe noticed immediately that there was no other exit. Tarra didn’t seem to mind, and was studying the object intensely. Gabe hunched over and immediately noted three things.

One – there were symbols like the ones written on the wall when they first entered the corridor.

Two – there were eight rows of symbols.

Three – there were ridgelines that looked like axis’ that the object could pivot on.

“It’s mechanical,” Gabe blurted out, somewhat shocked that that level of technology had existed even back then. “But what the hell is it?”

OOC: As you can see, I sort of played off your post Ren. My intent is that it’s like a little puzzle that needs to be solved before we can move to the next area. However we want to go about it, I leave it to you and WF ^_^

OOC: Yeah, thanks for that Gec. :) now I have to figure out what comes next, lol!

IC:

Arlen gathered himself and watched while Kyra broke the seal of the lid and discovered what it contained. She played with one of the arrows idly and replaced it before moving to the next box. Everyone was familiar with arrows, and Kyra was no exception, but it seemed not so much in their use or quality. Moving closer to the box and lowering his torch for more light, Arlen's head twitched as he inspected them. He had never had the opportunity to use arrows of their quality. The Yal'x-tree arrows were said to be as strong as iron and as supple as a virgin's skin. Many years prior, he'd heard firing a properly made arrow of Ya'lx wood was like your first time with a woman, but this time you knew what you were doing. He salivated while he stroked the shaft of the rare treasure and pulled away at sudden distraction.

"Where was your village, Arlen?" She asked while starting to pry another lid off, "I've been to many parts of the Empire since I left Kelesh. I may have come across it."

"Ciribaque," he said quietly. "It isn't on any maps," he said with a smile. "It's a valley that is made impassable by sheer mountains and share a sea with Faroese. In Acacian territory. An exiles haven - unless you're exiled from it." He took his gaze away from the arrows, after taking one for himself. "We had four cities of about the size of Gebron; a little smaller. Mostly simple farmers and skilled craftsmen."

Reaching into his bag, he found a handkerchief and wrapped the head of the arrow. Sliding it into his sword's sheath, he continued and pulled the lid off of the box Kyra had unsealed. "We valued thought and progress individually and collectively above war and profit. Philosophers, I suppose." Pulling the torch close again, he saw the glint of sword hilts. Setting his torch carefully on the box beside him, he pulled one out and unsheathed it. His eyes grew wide as he saw the patterns in the steel. Dam'uhs steel! "When Dominia came, though, we showed them how dismally underestimated we were. We took two for every one we lost. Two towns were spared destruction when it was over, but they were in shambles. No one lives there, now. They integrated the people into Dominia. I doubt you have ever been there. We had sound martial teachings, but lacked practical experience. Once we lost our first battle, we became timid and lost more. It was over in a month." His voice had evened out as he regained the narrator-like mindset of storytelling. A story he hadn't had the opportunity to tell often.

His brow furled and he set the sword back down. "Such high quality weapons. We could take this crate with us and sell the weapons for a king's ransom! They haven't made Dam'uhs steel since... at least two hundred years! Since the veins went dry and the forges went cold... Another iron deposit like it hasn't been found since - so I've read. And here, unfortunately, it will remain. Never touched again..." He looked at Kyra.

Sighing, he switched his sword for one in the crate and took his torch up, motioning to continue down the hall. "And you? Is your home town a place of learning? i imagine it to be rather sandy... And, out of sheer curiosity, do you have any siblings of like calling?"

As they entered the chamber Garin's gaze scanned all around.

“It’s mechanical,” Gabe suddenly seemed to belch out. “But what the hell is it?”

"A key," Garin replied without having looked at it yet and shrugged, "maybe." Standing beside Gabe, he finally took a look at what his Captain was examining. He nodded, "Yep..."

Gabe looked at him and squinted, "'Yep' as in it's a key, or as you know what to do?"

"Oh," Garin grinned, and looked at Gabe, "'yep,' it's mechanical, ha!" Taking another look at the symbols, he realized he had seen them yesterday, or the day before, however long they had been in this damned tomb. "We've seen these before... right?" he said, pointing to the symbols. "Has anyone seen them repeat anywhere else in the tomb? Or has anyone noticed a pattern of eights? What concept or object is comprised of eight things? Anyone?"

After rubbing his chin, Garin tapped his lips for a moment, staring at the mechanism. Mentally, he tried to work the machine from the user's side and back, what it might contain. "Hmm..." he mumbled. "Could kill us, or free us... I wonder which."

OOC: You'll have to explain to me what you mean the mechanism to look like, because i'm not really sure. you want to start a wave as to ascertain what will happen? Obviously, you're in on this too WF. ;)

She wished she had anything to steady her left arm with, but then again if wishes would come true she wished they were anywhere but here. Jade grimaced by the sudden movement as she made her way to Amateira. The young islander was in worse condition than she was.

"Shh, take a deep breath," she said soothingly, favouring her right arm as she began to examine Amateira's leg. "I'm just going to make sure it isn't broken."

<Doesn't mean it won't hurt though> Jasper told her somewhere from the darkness. He had made his way down after the others, unaffected by their impact as they had been rolling down the stairs.

<It's...> he began but broke off into silence as the first mate began to sing. It was a beautiful single voice, soft at first and then growing stronger. Jade almost felt like an intruder watching but she could not turn away from Sephara. If there had been more light her pale cheeks would glow red of both embarassment and excitement. Jasper seemed to be as enthralled as she was. She couldn't see his face but she could feel his attention was on Sephara and nothing else.

As blue glow lit their faces Jade lowered her eyes to Amateira, as if a spell was broken and she could move again, making sure it was not broken. Satisfied with what she saw and felt, despite the wincing from the young woman, she noted that Jasper was still staring at Sephara with an expression on his face which not even she could interpret. He felt her stare and said abruptly.

<Like I was saying, the staircase is a dead end. We will have to find another way.>

She repeated his words aloud for the others to hear. Thankfully the first mate, as the natural leader she was, took charge and Jade wasn't late to follow.

"Here, let me help you," she said to Amateira, offering her right hand to pull the girl up from the floor. She sneezed as fine dust filled her nostrils. "Can you hold this for me?" she asked the girl as they began to follow the others. She wasn't sure Amateira understood her but fully but she took Jade's sword. Her left arm was useless and she needed to take some weight of the girl's leg making it impossible to carry it herself.

They hobbled after in silence as the group of four was trying to find a way that would lead them upwards again. Dampness chilled Jade to her bones, and it did nothing to ease the pain, but she voiced no complaints about it. This was not the time, she knew.

<Right. Turn right.> Jasper urged her as they stopped at a T-junction.

"Jasper thinks right," she told the others. She caught a bewildered glance from Amateira, or so she thought.

<Not think. Know. There is something down that way...> he added with an ominously tone of voice. "Trust me, you don't wanna go left."

The last sentence he said ouloud for everyone to hear. She could feel Amateira's nails dug into her skin where she held her right arm for support.

"Then right it is," Kaltor said with a grin. Jade threw some anxious glances over her shoulder, as did Jasper she noted taking up the rear.

<I can smell them> he said in explanation. <Smell is not the best word to describe it, but it is the only one I can think of.> She nodded in response. There was many things she did not understand about her brother, but she knew when he was sincere and when he was not. As the long hallway bended to the right they found themselves in a round chamber. Three doors were in front of them, none looking like the other.

"Right again?" Kaltor spoke while throwing Jade another wolfish grin. She shrugged. The pirate tried the first one. Locked. So was the second and the third door.

<If I didn't know any better I wished that the locksmith was here>

"Jasper thinks right," Jade told the others. Considering what she knew of Jasper, she was willing to trust he knew which way to go. Without hesitating Sephara took the right passage and pressed forward. It was a simple trick that was used in her tribe when the young are undergo Shiasii, that is, a trying five days alone together in the wilderness. Only one elder child is sent with them as a leader. The tradition reinforces the wisdom of elder and trust in their guidance. The eldest is told to keep the children moving. It is simple enough, but as long as the group keeps moving they are more likely to stay positive, something crucial in a crisis. When no movement happens, despair sets in, and it alone has the power to kill.

Sephara dropped back slowly so she was more in line with Jade and Amateira. Her talks with Jasper had continued, but they really had no come much closer to solving the mystery of his continued presence in this world. Until they did, Sephara had kept a close eye on the doctor, mentally observing any changes she could detect. Down below the earth, having barely survived, her concern for the young woman grew.

"How are you feeling?" she kept the question in her usual commanding tone, not wanting to alert Jade to her worries. "Have you been feeling overly fatigued at all recently? Perhaps weak even? Anything unusual?"

Jasper was no doubt lurking around them as he always did, and if they ran into trouble it was a good possibility they would require his services. Which, if her theories were right, could do harm to Jade in some way. Getting an idea of her condition would give the First Mate some kind of a gauge to work with.

The chamber they arrived at shortly after was sparse, and odd only for the semi-circular shape it had been cut into. An impressive feat of engineering so far beneath the earth, surely a square of triangle would have been easier. This must be the way to something important. Kaltor tried each door in turn, and each time failed.

"Can Jasper make it through? If so, let's have him scout each passage and find out where they lead. While we wait, we can try to figure out a way to get the rest of us past those doors."

"I've always been a fan of brute force myself," Kaltor said, and got into position to charge at the left most door.

But before he could run at it, Sephara held up her hand, "No, wait for Jasper. Besides, those doors could be trapped. The only reason to lock all three and make them identical is to conceal the true path. Two are sure to be false. Better to wait."

She felt her waterskin bounce against her hip as she sat, and she smiled at that small fortune. Unstopping it, she took two quick gulps before holding it up, "Does anyone else need some?"

Tarra had always been curious and it had often gotten her into trouble. When she was young she would stay up long into the night reading her books and studying maps instead of sleeping. At dinner parties she would listen carefully to conversations surrounding her, all the while pretending to be oblivious. Even now in the dark tunnels of the tomb she listened to her companions.

She was not sure what to make of the two men. For what ever strange reason they were traveling together and with others. There was tension in Gabe's force as he conversed about the city of Gaborn. Obviously they had not had such a good experience there. She knew of Gaborn; Its people and culture were outlined in many books she kept.

She was wondering the reason for their presence in this tomb when she noticed the glint in the distance. Garin had noticed it too. Pointing it out to the group. Gabe pulled out his weapons in ready action, then he suddenly fell back. Tarra sighed as he put a short distance between them.

Tarra in like manor to Gabe, pulled out her pistols. Her thumbs sliding over the pistols triggers. She slowed a step to allow Gabe and Garin to catch up quicker.

.... I can’t even really explain it,” She heard Gabe say and and then look and then saw him look over his shoulder.

“Expecting company? The corridors impassable. I’m no engineer, but I’m pretty sure of that much.” Garin commented as they moved closer to the glint up ahead. They continued talking as if she could not hear them. Tarra thought she was gifted with exceptional hearing and she smirked to herself.

They entered the room on high alert, but it was all clear of undead. Tarra put her pistols away and desired to examine the shiny object. It was some sort of statue set in the center of the room. No doubt it was a representation of Ptolemy and it seemed to follow the theme of the corridor.

“It’s mechanical,” Gabe blurted out, somewhat shocked that that level of technology had existed even back then. “But what the hell is it?”

Tarra looked up an noticed what Gabe had been looking at. She tilted her head to one side trying to decide what she was looking at. She stepped away from the statue and stood next to Garin.

"A key," Garin replied and then looked up at it."Yep..."

Gabe looked at him and squinted, "'Yep' as in it's a key, or as you know what to do?"

"Oh," Garin grinned, and looked at Gabe, "'yep,' it's mechanical, ha!... "We've seen these before... right?" he said, pointing to the symbols. "Has anyone seen them repeat anywhere else in the tomb? Or has anyone noticed a pattern of eights? What concept or object is comprised of eight things? Anyone?..... Could kill us, or free us... I wonder which."

" I think its some sort of puzzle. I have never seen anything like it before. However, I do know that their culture is notorious for puzzles and tests. Their are a few artifacts found depicting such. I would gather that this would be one of those."

She took a step forward and took a closer look. " I recognize a few of the words here. There, look, at the top there is what looks like an arrow. I think that's where we should start." She reached out her arm to point and revealed the glowing script on her arm.

Instantly she snapped her arm back. She hoped they had not noticed, but judging by the look on their faces they had.

Ops.