The Skysail Treasure Co.

"Enough, you two. If we're going to blunder through this place all day I'd rather not hear your constant bickering! Besides, the obstacle is magical in nature. There's no mechanical or mind-altering effect on this place. I can't describe the feeling, but it is most definitely supernatural. For some reason... the magic feels... wrong." Arlen was about to answer back that she misunderstood both points they were speaking about, but was beaten to it by a voice from the darkness. For a moment, Arlen thought his own voices were back, but this one was different.

"That's because it is a curse," Arlen turned his head and body while he sat on the floor and watched as a strangely dressed woman came forward and sheathed her flaming sword. "My name is Kyra. I am a cleric of the priesthood of Sarenrae. I am here because I cannot leave until the darkness that dwells in this mountain is defeated." He stood and inspected her briefly. Indeed, her accent was different than others he'd come across as of yet, but not totally alien to him. She was dressed as a desert dweller, yet more ornately and with elegance beyond their simple robes.

A cleric indeed. I wonder how much coincidence comes into play lately. Another female traveler, and a cleric at that, in a place full of undead. Never a woman my age though, heh. Arlen smirked and bowed his head in return. "Hello, miss," he said simply.

"A curse indeed," he said to Cyradis. "I don't think Garin or myself ruled out magic in part or whole. There would have to be an element of this frustrating and confusing puzzle beyond the natural. Now we know, eh?" His eyes dropped to Garin and then moved to Jade. Surely, the cleric would be able to see through his falseness. Then again, Arlen had his own demons in that regard. The difference being Garin was about to make the choices in his life that mattered to which side of the knife edge he would lead his life and he was leaning the wrong way for Jade's welfare. A keen eye would be kept on the hustler. He hoped Gabe saw it at least. The way he schemed behind those eyes exuding trust and the forked tongue dripping with honey.

Whispering to Gabe he grinned, "Either magical, mechanical, or a combination, I think you're right about Arch getting us to the heart of this place. Funny how we always have the tools we need lately, hey?"

ooc: Will warn that this post is a bit long but I had alot to make up lol. Sorry for my absence but I should be back to usual activity now. Oh and happy easter everyone!

ic: *Drip* The soft trickle of water running down from the roof of the forest left the only sound a false calming presense in an otherwise tense situation. He stood barely breathing, sweat oozing from his poars so thick that his clothes stuck to him yet he took no care. The pain and fatigue were far away, they didn't exist they were something outside of him now, irrelevant to the task at hand. Two hours he had ran not knowing when the plants effects would wear off, and in that time he had finally stumbled upon them. The soldiers stared him down like a flock of sheep considered the wolf before it strikes. He wondered if they realized that they were facing a Maktah, of course they thought him a demon that was what the entire war was about. That was his part to become that demon to inspire the cold misgivings of fear in the average soldier as they considered how he would ruthlessly buthcher them all.

That fear gave him an advantage. It made them irrational it made them unthinking sheep. They seemed to have forgotten that he was outnumbered a dozen to one nor that he was exhausted spending all of his energy in catching up to them while they seemed to be well rested. But their minds refused to believe that he could be out here alone. He stood unmoving staring down at the group, less then fifty yards seperating them. They shuffled as someone finally took charge and barked orders moving in a protective semi circle.

"You cant win boy." a female voice shouted. Still he showed no reaction his fingers still lightly touching the twin blades still sheathed at his sides. "We each go our seperate ways....we can.." There was a slight click between the words. His nerves screamed something was wrong a half second before the bolt struck him in his side. He doubled over in pain and spat a warm red substance from his lips. His mouth curved into a smile and the twin blades rang free from their sheaths. He remembered the lessons Berak had taught him. A young scrap of a boy kneeling in the rain in meditaion. The cold shivers running down his spine as the fever took hold.

*The body is controlled by the mind. Pain, pleasure, sadness, cold, hot they are things your body experiences but it wastes for your mind to interpret it.*

He had been forced to sit in the rain unmoving for a day without shivering. It had taken awhile but he learned the lesson. Which way why the bolt was nothing more then a nuesance to him now. He moved slowly tapping the blades on the ground. He could feel the bolt being jostled by the movement, tearing and shredding his insides. Yet he still held the same sadistic smile. Life is pain. Death is but a release from the pain. The chenkari hurled away from him spinning wildly growing as it neared the group. Did they not realize the power his sister possessed? Why had they not drugged her.

The chenkari exploded in a brilliant flash of light blinding those foolish enough to look. Drice was but a second behind the ball carving into the now fractured defensive horseshoe. He lost himself to his instincts and reflexes his twin blades spinning and slashing. He squated down avoiding a sword only to bring his blades down upon the mans backside, and with a push he spun away coming back and slashing down hamstringing another soldier still trying to push the light from his eyes.

The clash lasted but a minute before he found himself breathing heavily over several dead bodies. The half dozen remaining soldier and the female leader had pulled back some tending their wounds watching him. The woman held a crossbow looking device at Cailey's head. Drice shuddered the plants effects wearing off the fatigue cascading over him to much for his mental meditation to handle. Like a damn he broke and the pain over took him. One of his arms dangled uselessly at his side blood rushing down his fingertips the blade he had been holding lost in the battle. That was not the only injury nor the more serious. He had taken a blow above his eye and the blood threatened to blind him, his midsection was cold yet burned ferosiously from the bolt and he no longer felt his legs. He smiled at the face of death and laughed.

"I warned you that you couldn't win." the woman grolwed.

*MENSIR*

Without thinking he followed the order, ancient juavrian for down. He let his body go falling to the ground the darkness start to swirl in his vision he caught a movement of white surprised by Caileys reaction as she hit the door just a moment before the volley of arrows tore from the forest behind him. Arieko crouched over him with two sinister curved blades, he caught the pain in her eyes as she looked down at him. "Don't you die on me." she hissed. "You made me a promise."

He heard other voices realizing that Arieko had brought the others like she promised. He realized a bit to late that she had been right, he should have waited. They obviously hadn't been to far behind. She would be unliveable when he admitted she was right. But then it didn't look like there would be a later anyways. He had broken one of his promises but if Cailey was safe then at least he had kept one. It was good day to die. A shout and then a scuffle were the last things he heard as the darkness carried him away into peaceful oblivion....
________

"Maktah?" Cailey whispered. She could feel the fear and pain radiating from him. Something was definately wrong there was so much sadness so miuch...she couldn't place it. Why wouldn't he talk to her?

"It's Arieko isn't it?" Sometimes when the nightmares were the worst he would whisper her name. She had seemingly meant so much to him yet he never talked about her. Or about what had happened. But the look he had now was one of seeing a ghost.

Drice seemed to shake himself from his trance. "I dont know." he whispered she could feel the lie immediately. "But I plan on finding out."

She glanced around the cabin. She had thought she understood what Maktah meant she had seen her brother do things she had heard stories but how had someone done this? Someone had told her that Drice had lost a step after the war as a result of the final battle. His body just had never truly recovered. Yet on his best day she couldn't see how he could sneak on to a ship with the watch they had and place a message in a room they didn't know about. The culprit had had time, plenty of it without worry of being caught to search the ship for their quarters. She was starting to see her brother in another light, one that finally made her understand the others fear when they were around him.

"You will not leave the ship." Drice hissed. "When I am not around you are to stay near Cyradis and never go anywhere by yourself."

"But..."

"No arguing."
___________

It hadn't taken much thought to decide not to tell the others about the strange occurance of events. Cailey was starting to be accepted as part of the crew, but he found himself as an outsider. He wasn't sure how they would react. He didn't want to drag them into nor did he want them to decide to cut their losses and leave them here not if there were Maktah truly present. He had wondered when the past would catch up to him, it seemed like it was finally coming to fruition. Cailey was safe as long as she stayed on the ship. He had seen the crew in the thick of battle and as long as there weren't a full squad of Maktah involved he had no fear of them losing a fight. But...

Arieko was dead. Wasn't she? Yet he had smelled the scent and the rose was unmistkable. A dead rose that had been a very clear message as well. Either someone was playing tricks on him or Arieko really was alive. Some of the puzzles made sense now. The store clerk had obviously seen his kind before and had been payed to turn him in. They were after Cailey but they would learn that he was still their equal if not there better.

He had spent that night searching the ship carefully trying not to attract to much attention but he wanted to make sure they didn't have a stow away. Upon satisfying his fears he had slept a restless night leaving him tired but determined when he embarked from the ship the next day alone. His Kamir hung loosely around his neck the twin blades dangling at his sides. Beneath his newly purchased cloack was an assortment of a dozen knives the thought of battle was actually enticing. For the last few years he had been running but knowing that eventually he would run into his battle, it was inevitable. Eventaully he would have to tell Cailey the truth about all of it. Yet it wasnt time yet. He needed to talk to Cyradis. She had taken a liking to Cailey and she was powerful. Someone who could...

"You seem lost in thought boy." An elderly voice cackled.

He raised his eyebrow at the old woman. She seemed nothing more then a common beggar, her clothes were makeshift, addorned with patches of varying colors. Dusty silver hair covered her face as she smiled with a toothless grin. "Perhaps you like some advice boy? Or your future read?"

Drice shook his head. "I don't trust advice from someone who can't even see well enough in the future to keep themselves off the street." He reached into his pocket and fished out a silver coin and tossed it to her as he turned away.

"You have the shadows blood."

He stopped in mid step turning. He opened his mouth to say something but she held a finger to his lips and grinned. "All in good time boy all in good time. I offered adivce as well as something from your future. Lies surround you they are apart of you and they will be your undoing. If you find your friends you will lose. You will never be again what you were. You were never Maktah. You are Denian the shadows blood flows within you."

His mouth twitched at the mention of Denia.

The old lady paused allowing him to consider her words. "You will travel to the land of the dead. Beware of the spirits for they long to return to the flesh. The blades will protect you. Nepheli will protect the girl but the goddess is not for you, you are seaped in blood, that is not the goddess's way. But there is hope find the shadows listen to the voice but not the voices, death is a part of you boy. The truth will be shared that will be the sign. Someone close to you will die. But there will be a momemt where you will be able to choose who that is."

Drice frowned trying to understand womans prophecy. He wanted to dimiss them as whimisical but it wasn't the first time he had heard those words. Arieko and Berak had both said he was two souls battlling within. Denian? He fished out a gold confused and agitated and tossed it to her before turning down the alley to digest what she had said.

"You have your mothers eyes." she whispered as he departed.

He turned startled but the old woman was gone empty space and two coins lay on the ground where she had been. He clutched his head. What the hell was happening? Was he going crazy? Retrieving the coins he turned paralyzed as two monstrously thick hands encircled his throat and lifted him from the ground. He gasped as his windpipe was squeezed close. He kicked and his eyes rolled back his body shutting down. With a hump he was spiked on the ground like a doll from a temper tantrum child. His body was embraced by the hard ground and blackness over took him....
_____

He awoke in the pre dark hours his mind groggy his body sore. He stood his legs trembling. Doruk...bastard. He mumbled and stumbled his way back to the ship. He slipped quietly into his bed dismissing Caileys growl of concern but comforted by the healing cold that paralyzed his body.

"You seperated your shoulder. How did that happen?" she demanded."

"Old friends." he whipsered before falling asleep.
______

The next several days went quickly. Cailey spent her time devoted to her lessons, while Drice rested and did his best to recover. His body was still sore but Cailey had promised his shoulder was fine. She could have healed him fully but had refused until Drice told her story. A few bumps and bruises were nothing new so as expected she had left in a fury when he had told her no. The only real commotion had come the first night out of town when the growing tension had finally blown to full force during Cryadis and Arachmae's chat. It was no real surprise to him, the only thing he didn't see coming was the former imperial pilot still breathing when they were done. He had a feeling that wasn't the end of it. Cailey not understading what was going on had wanted to comfort her master but Drice had talked her out of it. She would talk when she was ready he had explained.

Now they sat here chewing on a loaf of bread as the group tried to figure out these damned tunnels. He was still a little angry over him and Cailey being left behind. He had not liked that idea but then nothing else had worked. Luckily they had found their way back. Cailey looked sullen saying this place was sad and the magic was...distateful. He understood a little the place kept him unnerved. When they had been lost for that hour by themselves he had heard voices in his head. Very distiurbing deadly voices. The old lady real or unreal had said they would come to this place and that he should listen to the voice but not the voices but just which voice was it?

He retrieved his flask and took a sip of the Luduanna red to calm his senses. He listened to conversations around him and waited. His blades could do nothing to solve this riddle.

...

Jade could feel her heart beat faster at the sight of the flame-weapon wielding woman. She wasn't sure why, other than that the woman had made an impressive introduction of herself. That was, until she presented herself as a cleric, ridding the mounting of the lost souls. Just having ventured here alone must mean that Kyra, as her name was, must be more powerful than most. Not being a woman of religion and not having been taught in the divine and magical arts she feared for what this woman could do. Not to them, but to Jasper. As Gabe and Kyra spoke Jade stood up and edged closer to the where the mage was standing, trying to not draw much attention to herself.

"Do you think she can sense Jasper?" she whispered to Cyradis, both to keep their conversation hidden from the Cleric, but also from Garin. She wasn't sure why, but she wasn't ready to reveal her secret to Garin just yet.

Tarra had been running in the tomb for days, or at least it felt like days. She was trapped and she had not a clue in the world how to get herself out of this mess. When she had first entered the tomb it had been a fabulous wonder to her. Even though the walls had been pretty plain, the ground had a beautiful circle in the middle. She had stepped inside with out even a second thought. From head to foot she tingled and the room seemed to glow a faint red color. It had only lasted a few moments and then the circle was gone. She just stood there for a few moments. She had never encountered such a spell before and she wasn't sure what she should do. Then she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. Along the far back wall stood up a figure of a man.

"Oh hello, there. I didnt see you when I came in. Do you perhaps know what that just was? I am most curious." She had asked as she took a step towards him. He gave no answer, and only moments after did she know why. He was a Zombie and he was really hungry. It screamed and moved closer to her.

Tarra made easy work of him with a quick shot to the head. Almost instantly the creature dissolved into sand and dirt as if he had never been there. Thinking perhaps it had not been such a good idea to stay and look around, she had tried to use door she had come in through. However, it had locked and sealed her in. She tried to use her pistol, but that had failed.

She had no choice but to continue on in hopes of finding a key or something else to open the door. Many confusing corridors later she found herself almost out of bullets, with a pack of zombies chasing behind her. There were very few door in this place, and Tarra took every opportunity to go through them. luck had been with her last few times, but she stopped short when she came to a dead end. She looked into the small room with a ordinary coffin inside and then back at the horde of zombies, who were now blocking both corridors away. She would take her chances with the one undead then the rest of them. She rushed inside and shut the door behind her.

She grabbed the first thing she could and threw in in front of the door. She had no idea if it would hold. She feared her days were now numbered. She swallowed hard and readied her last two bullets. One at the coffin and one on the door.

It was then that she noticed something she had been too busy running away to notice before. Under the cuff of her right arm there was something written in red.

" What in the name of the Goddess?"

Wash, rinse, repeat. Three steps for washing clothes. Gabe thought about those simple instructions the women of his village followed every time he found himself doing the same thing over and over. That was exactly what this tomb was like, except they definitely would not have clean clothes by the end of it.

His hand located his canteen and he took a swig. After what happened yesterday he wasn't sure bringing Archamae down with them would really bring any different results, but doing anything different kept hope alive. Plus, no one had any better ideas. The frustration was evident when Garin and Arlen started their bickering, followed closely by Cyradis snapping at them. Everyone was a bit on edge. He thought Drice was still harboring some resentment against him for him and his sister getting separated for a spell. Perhaps there was more truth in that. Everyone knew what this place was, and what evil supposedly dominated it. No one really wanted to be here, and it had been his call, and until it proved fruitful he'd have to suffer the second guessing and under-the-breath comments.

"That's because it is a curse," a moderately accented voice sounded from across the antechamber, interrupting his internal monologue. All once, every magitech lamp in the group was pointed in the direction of the voice, illuminating the speaker as she stepped out of the darkness. "My name is Kyra. I am a cleric of the priesthood of Sarenrae. I am here because I cannot leave until the darkness that dwells in this mountain is defeated." Her common was excellent, but not enough so that she'd lost her accent. Gabe knew she came from the west, and he bit his tongue at how unlucky he was to have run into one of their Zealots. Then again, having a cleric around to combat any evil forces at work was never a bad thing. He could stomach any sermons if it got them into the tomb.

"Clerics of Sarenrae often travel by themselves into evil lairs?" he interrogated her. He already knew the answer. Yes. From his dealings in Qandria he'd learned the weird ways of the priesthood. They often journeyed far from their homeland to spread their faith, and vanquish evil wherever they might find it. Gabe just wasn't sure if she was real, not after yesterday.

She turned her oval eyes on him and remained unphased by his provocation, "Those of us gifted with Sarenrae's blessing are in her debt. We go to wherever the darkness prevails."

He was far from satisfied, "How long have you been in this cave?"

"A day or two at most," she replied.

"How'd you get up to the entrance?"

"I climbed."

"Are you a real or just another twisted part of this labyrinth we're stuck in?" Sephara turned her head slowly, looking highly unimpressed. "The other way wasn't getting us anywhere," he muttered.

A smile finally cracked the cleric's lips, "I assure you, I am as real as you, and play no part in the foul treachery at work here."

"Of course not," he returned her smile, "I just had to be sure, you understand? Right. Kyra, this is Archamae our pilot, Sephara my First Mate..." and he proceeded to introduce her to the rest of his crew and even mentioned the ones still aboard the ship, "And I'm Gabriel Solomon, Captain of the Requiem Dawn. Well, now that we're all friends, why don't you tell us a little bit more about what you've found out about this place Kyra. Perhaps together we can figure out this puzzle."

Cyradis

Cyradis gave the cleric a suspicious eye as she ventured from the darkness into their little expedition. It seemed a little convenient to find a cleric here, but Cyradis had been feeling more paranoid since she'd come into the tomb. It likely had something to do with the plain grey walls and endless redundant tunnels. Jade eased up next to her with a similarly suspicious tone in her voice and asked if the cleric, Kyra, could sense Japser.

"She is a cleric," Cyradis shrugged, "I'm no priest, but I'm pretty sure Jasper is safe as long as he isn't evil. Clerics tend to target the forces of darkness. Whatever reason Jasper has for being here, I think his devotion to you is anything but evil." She smiled at the magically inclined doctor. Of course, she would only know the answer for sure if she asked Kyra herself.


Kyra

The Qadiran took the questions with a calm understanding. She knew these walls could play tricks on the mind after a while. The dejected manner in which she found these travelers was evidence to their frustration and waning patience. She also detected a bit of hostility from the woman identified as Sephara and the first mate. She wondered if she was always as untrusting of strangers or if it was Kyra herself. She responded to the introductions was a bow of her head and a simple Sarenraen blessing.

"May the Everlight guide your path." She lifted her head and regarded Gabriel, "To answer your question, Captain Solomon, I came here from rumors I head while traveling this part of the world. Old legends, while exaggerated over time, usually have some basis in fact. I came here expecting, perhaps, a necromancer or Cult of Iviscera raising the dead. For some reason they've been growing in number over the last few years. It's disconcerting, but I digress.

"When I got here, I found restless spirits on the battlefield below reliving their final hour in eternal undeath. They ignored me, for the most part, but the experience was overwhelming. I followed the source of the corruption to this tomb and wound up lost, like you." Kyra folded her arms and turned to the passage from which she last came. "I thought I'd discovered a pattern, but I must have messed it up somewhere along the way, as I've ended up back at the beginning. It seems if you take a wrong turn, it puts you out back here. All I've really managed to figure out for certain is this passage is the only one that leads deeper into the maze." She turned back to Gabriel to see that most of the crew had joined around them, "Of course... I could have just been lucky. With no way to leave a trail, it's difficult to tell. Even the corpses of the undead I've purified disappear from passages I've already been down."

Across from her, a robed woman Gabriel called Cyradis clutched her smooth, black staff and cringed visibly. Apparently, the thought of walking dead was highly unappealing to the young mage. Similar, though less dramatic, expression crossed the faces of the others. Kyra smiled and scratched her neck, "And, uh, there are several hundred risen dead walking the halls deeper in..."

OOC: The cult is unimportant (for now) unless you want them to be involved. Basically a guild of dark wizards, they will play in later with Kyra, but I don't plan on acting on that until Cyradis' story arc is resolved and we've gathered a majority of the books. Also, a bit of a nitpicking thing, but I ask that you guys try not to PP Kyra until more of her personality is uncovered. She's not quite as rigid as Geco portrayed her to be :P

...

After Arlen spoke about the polish, he was wondering if it did more harm than good. False hope, perhaps. As the group fell into panicked debate, the young cook saved the day - or rather, his nose. Arlen grinned, and then wondered erroneously what Amateira was thinking about at this moment. Seeing as how they'd been gone for ages. Nearly ten hours had passed since Arch had joined them, he figured. Yet there was very little spoken of outside of the lunch. The tension in the air was almost as thick as the earthy gaseous smell of rotten flesh. At one point or another, everyone has smelled human flesh being taken over by gangrene or putrification. Hoping beyond reason, Arlen wanted never to come across it again; now in vain. All too well he could remember this smell on battlefields days old, though there was also the smell of nature to subdue it a bit. Aram's young and attuned nose, no doubt, has having a harder time than his own coping with the smell. At least the lad doubtfully had as rotten of memories to accompany it.

Before long, the collective emerged into a most spectacular example of intelligent creatures using their imagination and skill. It was indeed something Arlen had never seen equal to. "Who would have known it was under such a plain mountain?" he said in response to Archamae, aghast at the shear size and scope of it all. With a twitch of his eye, he realized something else of important magnitude as well. The lamps were going out. Before they had diminished any further, he was already pulling a torch free from the wall of a pillar beside them and getting out his flint.

The lights finally dimmed out, and Arlen stood silent and still for as long as he could bear. "This is going to be bad..." he breathed. His piercing green eyes scanned the darkness, but saw nothing. His ears, though picked up the faint scraping of movement all around. A thud here, a drag of a foot there. He caught it for only a brief second before the noises of the others drowned it all out.

"We need light," Gabriel said, more as a command than a revelation. Arlen, instead pulled out his sword. The bow slung over his shoulder and the quiver of twenty arrows hanging opposite his bag would be useless right now. After hushed sacred words were spoken, there was illumination by various means. Each of which uncovered even more ghastly creations than he thought there might be. Arlen was staring into the eyes of death. Puppets of evil. He backed away from the closing bipedal menaces and closer to his still warm associates.

Duncan, a man he had only just gotten to know, really, moved out from among them. Though Arlen reached out with his hand, and started to shout warning, it was already over for him. Arlen stepped aside as his corpse was slung into the group. Drice and Kaltor were not so fortunate as to be missed by the flesh missile. Arlen turned his face away and closed his eyes as he relived the noise of tearing flesh. He could still remember a Magitek soldier rending a man in two simply because he could. How power corrupts the heart of man... he thought at the time.

For a reason unknown to Arlen, he looked at Duncan's body and touched his own forehead with his first two fingers, a bow of his head honoring the dead man. A token of goodwill on the part of the willing from where Arlen had come. Something he hadn't done for many years, nearing half of his lifetime now. In either case, he had little time to wonder the sudden sense of theism that encompassed him, though one thing did pop quickly into thought: Damn cleric...

Fearing that whatever curse acted on those undead creatures could also work its way into their own bodies, if they died here, Arlen performed the most dishonorable deed of stabbing the dead crewman directly between the eyes. Perhaps unnecessary, but only the Cleric would be certain. "Better safe than sorry," he said, and placed his boot on Duncan's face. With a tug the sword came free, along with bits of skull and brain. Arlen helped a slightly miffed Kaltor to his feet.

"Even for me, that's pretty cold, old man," the patched pirate grimly grunted in disapproval.

The horde continued to close in, and there was little time to think before they would be upon them. Arlen bent down and took Dunan's shield, "We need to get into a bottleneck to get away. If we battled until the end of our natural lives, we wouldn't see the end of them. We can't make a stand, we have to run." Arlen held the shield up and wished he had the spear to accompany it, perhaps he could steal one from one of the skeletons or zombies later.

"I didn't sign up for this, Gabriel," Garin could be heard from behind, his voice beginning to waver. "You brought me to jewels and gold, but also to my death!" Arlen didn't look back to berate him, but did hear a couple of blades being unsheathed from the man as his feet shuffled on the smooth granite with unease.

"'With risk comes reward,'" Gabriel recited, "Although this time I agree."

"I just hope it's the reward you're looking for, Captain," Arlen followed up. "I don't think any of us are ready to die today, and that's our greatest weapon." Whether the book that the Captain was looking for was here or not, if they survived they likely would make enough in booty to last them a few trips. If just for the bragging rights and stories, they'd be made famous. Only if we live.

OOC: If you're wondering, i'm imagining the exchange of words to take place only over the course of about twenty seconds. As long as it would take to say it, really.

I'll post for Garin in a bit (tomorrow; the next day maybe? I'm getting pretty busy the next couple days). I'm also assuming that Garin gabriel Arlen and kaltor are basically beside each other.

Please PRP Arlen/garin if you need to and i'm not around. I'm pulling a double shift tomorrow unexpectedly and probably doing minibar too, so i'll be working from 5 am to probably 9 pm with only a couple of half-hour breaks tomorrow.

Kyra

As the lamps began to fade, Kyra automatically drew her sword. Darkness by itself was nothing to fear, but she knew all to well what haunted this tomb. She also knew it was no mere coincidence that all the lamps would somehow loose their power at the same time. Something was affecting the magicite. Before long, the party was in darkness. Kyra urged the flames to ignite her blade, and was answered by subdued red flames tracing the edge of her scimitar growing steadily brighter and hotter. Others in the party more acclimated to magic produced other means of light and before long, their vision was extended a few dozen feet.

Kyra saw the undead and wasn't entirely surprised at their advancement. She'd sensed them for some time now. That they would appear just as the lights went out was another clue as to the intelligence behind their being here in the first place. Someone - or something - was directing them intentionally. Kyra was not able to determine what exactly it was even now, though she had little time to search for it. One of the crew from Gabriel's ship stepped forward with a shield and spear. His stance showed he was adept in their use, but he underestimated his foe. Before Kyra could issue a warning, he was caught off guard and thrown back into two others. Kyra immediately followed his flight and moved to help him.

The eldest of the group, Arlen, had already gotten to him. The man was bleeding profusely from his sundered arm, but between herself and the two other healers his chances were good if they could stop the bleeding soon enough. Kyra moved closer, pulling out her icon of Sarenrae from a black leather pouch next to her scabbard. The gold-inlaid alabaster statuette resembled a winged woman with her arms held wide, as if ready to embrace the viewer. She bent to kneel over him when a steel blade pierced his head through the bridge of his nose. Kyra's eyes were wide as she followed the merciless blade back to its owner. Arlen unsanctimoniously removed the blade and turned to help another man to his feet. Shocked at his action, Kyra fell to her knees and pressed the icon desperately to the fallen man's face. She knew no god, no matter how graceful and loving, would never return the dead to life. Still, the icon shone brightly with a white light that caused some of the advancing dead to falter and shy away from it. Normally, the light would close wounds and cure disease, but it garnered no response from Duncan.

Kyra stood quickly and turned to Arlen. Two steps later, her hand clutching the icon shoved into his chest. He stumbled back a step, but recovered quickly. She pointed her finger at his face, her voice a mix of anger and insult, "No one is unworthy of redemption! Now this man may never see the Everlight!" The anger in her voice turned to warning, "By the Holy Flame you would do well to remember that in my presence."

Cyradis

The lights flickered away and Cyradis responded to Gabe's request by igniting the head of her staff - made of glass instead of crystal - into a bright yellow ball of fire. With the combination of Cailey's orbs and Kyra's sword, the hall was sufficiently lit to see a horde of undead limping, dragging, shuffling, and any other manner of insidious movement towards them. Cyradis, struck by the overpowering will to not join the ranks of the undead, was able to push her fear of them aside in favor of more pressing goals, though, she was now thinking perhaps the tomb was not the best of places to have chosen to find the book. After all, they had no affirmation it was even here.

Sidestepping her doubts Cyradis braced herself as Duncan, one of the veteran crew from before Coral, answered the impending dead with a spear thrust to its midsection. Such a blow would have instantly killed or paralyzed a living man. Such was not the Risen's fate. It countered by grabbing Duncan's spear arm and lobbing him back into the group. Cyradis stared in disbelief for a moment as Arlen and Kyra moved to aid him. Tearing her gaze away, there was still the undead to worry about. They certainly weren't stopping to celebrate their victory. Cyradis steeled herself, as she was trained to do after witnessing the gruesomeness of battle, and fired a low powered fireball from her already flaming staff into the nearest enemy. The dry, dusty scraps of cloths and brittle bones beneath them instantly incinerated leaving a cloud of ash in the air and its sword clanging on the stone.

Next to her, Archamae fired a burst from her magitek weapon, but the sharp needle-like projectiles did little against the unfeeling dead. Summoning a more powerful spell, Cyradis lobbed the exploding ball into the enemy. The blast bought them some time as the rickety bodies were engulfed or broken. Spells like that would help, but it didn't escape her notice that some of them shrugged off the flames entirely or simple kept walking as they burned. Magic was not the only solution here. Cyradis nonetheless stepped up next to Archamae. Despite her lack of empathy for the pilot, no one deserved the fate of being forever cursed to walk this maze. Leaving her defenseless was cruel. She gave Archamae a tolerant gaze as she placed her hand on the magitek mechanism that powered the crossbow. A few seconds later, she removed her hand revealing veins of fire flowing from the magicite core. Since magicite was a source of power, Cyradis didn't need to maintain the enchantment, but hopefully Archamae had some spare magicite somewhere, as the power would drain from it faster than normal. She gave Archamae a affirmative nod and turned back to the dead who had overcome the blast from her last attack.

Archamae gave her weapon a speculative gaze, but pulled the trigger regardless. The firing mechanism sprayed real flames from it's reclaimer as red-hot bolts left the chute and detonated against the enemy. Archamae's jaw was open slightly at the power of the enchantment. Even Cyradis was surprised at the potency. Apparently, the magicite sample she had in there was particularly pure. She hadn't expected it to generate so much heat.

OOC:
Okay, some things about the crossbow. First, it gets hot fast, so suppressive fire is not recommended. I would assume there's enough magicite for it to continue functioning for the duration of the tomb sequence, if not forever. If a 1'x6" diameter rod can sustain an airship indefinitely, then I'm sure whatever small sample Arch has can last at least as long to maintain the enchantment Cyradis put on it.

Second, Kyra's mad at Arlen. Wasn't sure if that was clear (joking).... XD

...

Arlen

cocking his head at the Cleric's words, Arlen was surprised that that was the most important thing on her mind. "Not that I'm really worried about this at the moment - but what makes you presume anyone would want to see this Everlight the first place? Did you ask?" Arlen stepped toward the mass of skeletons, shield raised. Kaltor was beside him, poised for attack as well. Cyradis was incinerating or burning many of them, but it did nothing to dissuade their advance.

Kaltor and Arlen looked at each other and nodded. Taking a deep breath, Arlen jumped into the fray with the swashbuckler. The skill of the swordsman outmatched his own, self-admittedly, but when it was life or death the thought of machismo was not priority. The shield was logically crafted for numbered squad-based warfare. It was light, and shaped so as to cover adequately to the thigh and allow for quick movement with a sword or spear. A full rectangle, with an inward curve around the wielder. The unnatural strength of the skeletons could be felt with every blow glanced off of that shield. Arlen stabbed furiously and shoved violently, but to seeming ineffect. For every one he turned to dust three would replace it. He was not tiring yet, but it would be only a matter of time. Besides that, with every backward glance a precipice drew nearer and dearer.

In a lull, he pulled back, thinking quickly about what options they had to work with as he looked around. Certainly, there must be a way out of this frying pan. His boot slid across the granite on a slick patch of his old boot and an idea sprang to life. His eyes sped about looking for Cyradis. Nearly cut off from her now he shouted above the clanging steels and irons. "Cyradis! The granite is nearly as smooth as glass; can you make it as slippery as a frozen lake?! Their bone and steel would gain no grip on the ice! Perhaps we can escape our dismal fall into darkness yet!"

Ahead of him a skeleton advanced and raised it's sword. Arlen charged forward with a yell, and as the arm came down threw the top of the shield into its arm. Bones shattered and splintered. The sword fell behind him and clanged on the stone floor like standing next to a large ringing bell during a call to prayer. With its other hand, the skeleton grabbed the shield. Arlen freed his arm as it yanked on it violently, tossing it into its brethren with disregard. Arlen punched the foul beast between the eyes with his pommel and watched as it exploded and fell to the floor in a heap of jumbled bones. Giving it an extra kick to scramble it further, he stared down three zombies that two meters ahead had his brains on their menu. Their mouths open and gaping, he could see spiderweb, flakes of desiccated flesh, and a few remaining teeth. Altogether, not the prettiest thing he would wish to have chomp down on him.

"It's just a thought," he yelled over to her. Shrugging, he grumbled to himself. "Suddenly, jumping down the chasm doesn't seem so bad an idea."

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

"What's down there?"

A boy about ten years old walked over to the edge of a crack in the earth, next to his friend. "I don't know, why don't you find out?"

"But... It's dark," the other one said, a little younger looking and peering over the edge on his hands and feet.

"What did Baelarus say? 'Darkness is only a symbol of the unknown, waiting to be discovered,'" the standing boy said, and looked over the edge. "If you don't go, I will."

"I don't think he meant it like that." the first boy said, nervous but easily pressured. "Can we... go together?"

The older boy nodded once, "Sure, I'll go first if you like." Without hesitation, the older boy knelt down and threw a leg over the edge, finding a secure footing and started down. "I bet you there's probably a spring or something down here, eh?"

"Maybe..." the young boy said and knelt down. "Does it feel solid enough to climb?" he asked, lowering himself into the crack.

"Of course it - woah!"

The young boy held onto the rock wall with closed eyes and all his might as he heard stones give way beneath him, falling free from loose pockets of soil. What felt like three or four seconds after hearing his friend scramble from the face with a yelp there was a light thud, accompanied by a crack and a pained yell. The boy's eyes shot open. He looked down breathing deep and quick. He could feel his body grow cold while there was silence.

"Arlen?"

No response.

"Arlen? Are you okay?!" he said louder.

"Tresdon..." he heard, weak and feeble from below. "Tresdon... Get... Father..."

The boy Tresdon continued to hold onto the rock face, tears starting to stream down his eyes, immobilized by fear. Arlen no doubt could see him there, unmoving. It was his fault for Arlen falling. He just killed his best friend by being afraid. "I'm sorry, Arlen!" he cried out, his tears falling and his throat a lump. "I'll never be afraid again!"

"Tresdon... just get father... Please...!" he could hear. How could Arlen be so calm? Why wasn't he afraid?

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

Arlen felt his leg as he looked at the dark edge of the chasm. A pit suddenly welled up in his stomach and he looked back at the zombies to escape it.

"Zombies are better..." he said, nodding nervously.

Garin

This isn't what he wanted out of life, and he had let Gabriel know it. If they lived, there would probably be hell to pay, but if he died. Well... If he died, it looked like he'd be paying hell anyway - as an undead mindless zombie or skeleton, or maybe just taking part in the curse as some unholy sacrifice. In any case, the whole feeling of dark rituals seemed to reek in this place. It was just damn creepy. Stepping back when the others advanced, he stuck close to Jade with his long knife drawn, along with a sword they gave him on the ship. Probably not a bad idea now, against these things. "Knives are rather petty against armor and bone, you know," he nervously rattled off to Jade. "Not too bad against flesh, though. Yeah." He nodded a few times, quickly as his heart raced.

This wasn't exactly how he imagined going out. Especially not after finally getting through those cursed tunnels and labyrinths. Within sight of treasure, and he dies. Sure, jewels aren't that impressive, nor inlay, though there must surely be more beyond. Coming all this way just to be tossed off of an edge, or skewered, or ripped to pieces. He looked at Jade and saw her pale face, the concern on it. Something there struck him. He was far less fragile and defenseless than she. It was true, even to Garin's own heart, that he was a selfish man. Though in her, the young rogue saw a selfless woman. His opposite, in a way.

Garin raised his hand and rested it on her shoulder. "It'll be okay," he said, calming himself down. "I'll make sure you're alright. Just stick close, okay?" The rogue turned around and looked around while the others fought, looking for a way out. There were doors everywhere before the lights went out,he remembered, and stairways leading down. The skeletons probably came out of the doors, he figured. They aren't quick enough to come up the stairs in these numbers. Right?

Glancing around, he saw a dead man on the floor by Drice and Kaltor, his arm ripped off. Garin grimaced in disgust, but noticed the cleric berating Arlen about something. At least that raises my spirits, he mused. Others fired pistols, fireballs, and tiny bolts. No one was really making a dent in the numbers or the advance though.

"Any ideas?" he asked the healer. "We might be able to run for it, but not for long... We're quickly losing space. I just don't know where we'd run to, is all!"

They came upon him like the warm delicate touch of heated breath on the back of his neck. The pressure began to build the deeper they traveled into the maze the whispering of voices laughing madly at him. With each step the darkness and menace in their voice deepened until he could feel the venom dripping upon him. Kill....kill them all... That was their favorite, their favorite enticement. Several times he envisioned tearing into those around them feeling the final breath released from their chest the pleasurable final embrace in their eyes as the life slipped from them. Blood covered the walls..

He stumbled into a wall the visions gone but the menacing thoughts continueing to hound him. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he thought upon the old woman's words. He was in deed hearing voices, he was going mad. She warned not to listen to them, but the sole voice. However which voice was the one? And if it followed along the others logic he wanted no part of killing the people who had put a semblance of trust in him. Even if it was just a token gesture.

Cailey glanced at him she seemed to be just as miserable in the darkness. Hurt and worry swelled in her eyes as they fell upon him and he cursed the voices again. He had broken into a cold sweat, his knees trembling all be it slightly. He wanted to be done with this riddle. He wanted to...

*Kill* the voices cackled with delight. He shook his head catching himself as his fingers gripped the twin blades at his sides. The soft warn handles brought him comfort that flooded into him. He could feel the menacing voices being pushed away. Frowning in thought he considered the connection. Had his blades banished the voices or had they listened to his unspoken command to leave? Regardless he going mad fighting with voices in his own mind. Troubling times in deed...
______

Cailey watched nervously from behind her brother unsure of how the two of them had fallen to the rear of the pack. She walked slowly feeling as if she was slowly being crushed by a great weight surrounding her. The place felt dirty...tainted. She itched and wished simply for a bath. Suprisngly the rest of the group seemed undetered by the place although the thought of gold probably out weighed anything else in their mind. Occasionaly she felt her magic slip from her grasp causing her to panic as she fumbled to bring it to her again. Her mind was made up. She hated this place and never wanted to return.

Her brother seemed by far the worst effected amongst them all. Perhaps the darkness of the tomb fed upon his own melancholy but she thought it was something worse. He was changing and at times she was terrified of what it was her brother might become. Occasionally he would whisper barely audible but to her ear, "shut up." he had not been talking to anyone in the group.

There were other times his eyes would change to something sinister and dark. As if he was a predator preparing to strike its prey. She prayed she was imagining it. "Nepheli...give your instrument strength in this hour of darkness. Let your light guide the way." she recited the prayer over and over. The mood thickened in response almost as if struck and although the weight intensified she felt her own strength begin to grow as she reconnected to Nepheli's power. The goddess was within her, they would not be alone in the dark after all.

They immerged into a room filled with treasure the sight offering no comfort to her mood.

"Prepare yourself." Drice hissed as he silently unsheathed his blades. Cailey frowned thinking to cast her senses out into the darkness however that had failed earlier and left her with a headache. What was her brother reacting too? Regardless of everything she trusted him the most. She delved into her chants perparing her ritual magic the chenkari coming as the world went black. It was as if the light had been sucked out of the room. Someone called for light and she instinctively answered sending forth the orbs and unleashing them like mini suns. The light cascaded down and her breath caught at the sight of the decaying masses that stalked to them...
_______

*The dead come*

Drice blinked unsure of where the voice had come from. He glanced at the others but no one seemed to take any heed from the words. Some how he knew that this was the voice the woman alluded too. "Prepare yourself." he hissed to Cailey drawing his blades unsure of what threat was coming. The room went black.

*Open your eyes to the darkness let the shadows be your eyes*

He wanted to curse the voice back to the depths of whatever hell it came from but now was not the time start an argument with an unseen voice in his head. He might be crazy but he wasn't stupid. However for an instant he thought he could see shapes moving in the darkness. That was impossible there was no light no one could see...

The world exploded in light as Cailey released her Chenkari into the world. The light shone down on rotting corpses dragging broken limbs and weapons towards them. The horde was like a wave crashing upon them an endless swarm. He moved to confront them when someone beat him to it. Even as the sailor struck triumphantly Drice bit the words of warning back. It was to late. He had heard stories of battles in the badlands when the orc shamans would call forth the army of dead ancestors to do battle. They might be slow and stupid but they made up for in strength and even worse the fact that they were already dead. The creature ripped the mans arm off throwing his broken body back at him with a force he had not expected. He dodged and tumbled away only realizing his mistake. Although not trapped by the dying man he was now thick into the mass of creatures.

In cramped quarters these things had the advantage they would just keep coming overwhelming them with sheer numbers until the group wore out or until they were picked off one by one.

"Buy me time!" Cailey screamed at him kneeling on the ground oblivious to the creatures moving towards her.

It was a remarkable thing to consider. Knee deep in death a child bowing on the floor calmly praying to a goddess that most of the room had never heard of or dismissed as reliigous dietry. He growled at the hideous things and laughed. The voices had their wish. They wanted him to kill something then so be it. He would remind everyone of these demon damned obinations that they belonged in the afterlife. He swirled into the massess around Cailey like a fog of steel slashing and hacking anything that came near her. With a strike bones clattered on the ground, he turned slashing down cleaving a sword bearing hand at the wrist the blade crashing at his feet.

For a few moments Tarra stood and stared at the script that covered her arm. She had pulled back the sleeve to discover the script ran in a spiral all the way up to her shoulder. She opened her eyes wide, and hoped she would be able to read it. Not a chance. It was like no other language she had ever seen before, and she had seen many. Her whole body shook with fear and confusion. She was really in a pickle now.

" No, No, No" She shook her head when she felt her nose tingle. Her nose always tingled right before she cried. She closed her eyes and wiggled her nose as if that would stop the tears from coming.

When she finally opened her eyes she noticed a fog form through the door she had just blocked. She wiped the first tears away with her shoulder in attempt to focus, but found her eye sight had not improved. She took a step back and re-aimed both pistols at the mist.

" LEAVE ME ALONE!!!" She screamed. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She was knew she was as good as dead. The fog formed into something that Tarra had only heard horror stories about. The ugliest old woman, with long white hair, a face as pale as stone, and eyes as red as the script on Tarra's arm, appeared. Their eyes locked, and the Banshee let out a blood curdling shriek.

Tarra stumbled back and attempted to cover her ears. Only when she stepped back, she triggered a pressure plate. The Whole room began to quake. The Banshee continued to shriek and moved slowly forward. A door then appeared in the wall behind Tarra, it continued to quake as it slowly opened out into a large chamber. This chamber was not empty.

With a loud ground Tarra fell backwards into the chamber. Her pistols slipped from her hands and landed on the hard stone ground a few feet away. On her butt, She looked up and found herself looking right into another person's face. It took her a moment to realize it was not a zombie face she was looking at.


It seemed her luck had just gotten better.

Ooc: This was the best I could come up with. Don't judge!

...