Difference between revisions of "Ketrus/C1S1"

Revision as of 08:07, 5 April 2010

Campaign Home | Onward to Circle One's Second Session >>

Dramatis personæ

• Ketrus/C1S1/IronSoul : The circle's Dawn
• Ketrus/C1S1/Nadira : The circle's Night
• Ketrus/C1S1/PlatinumStorm : The circle's Eclipse
• Ketrus/C1S1/Ibis : A Full Moon who makes first meeting with the Solar circle

• Reckless Draught : Well-intentioned god-blooded trying to save a dying town
• Knack : An ancient an oddly civilized thaumeturge, strange even by Wyld Shaman standards
• Mira : Slightly mad ghost of a woman killed by childbirth, Knack's grandmother

Summary

The Circle, after finding a dead messager on the roadway, comes to Nakiahl, a plagued town. There, they discover the supernatural sickness known as the Drought that denies water to men, women, children, even the land itself. After meeting Reckless Draught, a god-blooded, and Knack, an odd and out of place shaman, they led by Mira, the ghost of a former resident and Knack's grandmother, towards someone that might be able to help. They learn that Nakiahl was founded by a powerful dragon-blooded sorceress, Mira's grandmother. Her ghost may be able to figure out how to cure the strange disease that is killing her people, but she has been imprisoned. Joined by a Full Moon who came to investigate the town herself, the Circle journeys to free the ghost of Nakia.

Following Mira, the Circle and their new Lunar companion dispatch the spies of the enemy and delve into a tunnel carved within the mass grave of a Usurpation battleground. They hack their way through the countless hungry ghosts that assault them, and collapse the passageway behind them. They come to an Abyssal-aspect Manse fueled by the ancient slaughter, which had never been properly cleansed, and walk into the hearthstone chamber. This small room turns out to be one of Creation's tiniest shadowlands, and they emerge from the bone-wrought structure into the Underworld itself.

Session One

It begins with an unfortunate discovery. The circle has just reclaimed the Hidden Redoubt, manse and minor cache of the Dawn-case warrior, Iron Soul. Leaving their Twilight occultist behind to examine the manse's more arcane chambers, they find their journey back towards civilization interrupted. A mortal messager lie dead upon the road, seemingly killed from dessication.

His letter is a cry for help from the nearby town of Nakiahl, not a day or two north from where they found him. Taking matters into their own hands, the Circle heads towards the village to see if they can save it from what is only described as 'the Drought'.

---

The River Province is the breadbasket of the world, fertile grasslands interrupted only by verdant forests and the occasional mountain range. The soil is rich, the rain is steady, and the farming is nearly as productive as it was when this area formed the backbone of the Old Realm--even if it is nowhere near as easy.

Starting a few miles from Nakiahl, there are small farms growing grains and vegetables, a few with farm houses that brighten the landscape with red, blue, and yellow paint. The far-off scent of animals carries in the wind, the smells of manure and fees, sweat and urine.

It seems altogether unexceptional, just another community of quietly successful peasants living their lifes and earning their keep through agriculture.

---

Iron Soul wordlessly walks along with the others, clad head to toe in his massive armor. He moves as easily as if he were wearing silk, though. His face remains hidden inside his masked helmet, which he seems loathe to remove.

Platinum Storm taps a booted foot on the ground as he looks at the town up ahead, smoke from his rather well made pipe making a lazy trail upwards. A hand is run through his brown hair, shifting the green cloak about before he gets a hint of a smile. "Hm, looks like somewhere one would like to retire to." Blue eyes dance with amusement for a moment before he takes a stepforward, glancing back at Iron Soul. "Try not to scare the locals, eh?"

Iron Soul huffs, his voice muffled from inside his helm. "Whether they are afraid or not is their choice, not mine."

Nadira throws the hood of her cloak over her head and bends backward, stretching. "It looks peaceful here, yes."

Platinum Storm says, “You could... oh I dunno, not look like armored /death/. It contrasts nicely with Nadira though!”

He turns about, walking on ahead with another look. "So what could be happening here..."

Iron Soul says "I'd scare more without it," as he continues walking on, uninterested in the simple environs around him.

Nadira shrugs and follows, heading towards the village.

---

As the circle draws closer to Nakiahl, the signs of life and abundance slowly disappear. The grass here is yellow, when not dead altogether. Great long patches of land are nothing more than choked, cracked soil, devoid of moisture. One of these must have once been a road, for it leads straight into the middle of town.

The buildings are much the same as you would find in any small town dotting the landscape of the River Province, built of wood harvested from nearby forests. Here, though, it seems as if no one had bothered with their upkeep in many long years. Where it is not worn and splintered, the wood is decaying and disintigrating into nothing.

The picture seems bleak, but perhaps fortune favors the Exalted this day. Just as you arrive, the grey clouds above at last let loose a gentle shower, and rain falls upon the dry, forsaken town of Nakiahl. As the first few drops hit the ground, though, it is obvious that this is no natural drought. The rain strikes the ground, but the dusty soil remains parched.

It hits the the buildings about you, but slides off their surfaces as if they were oiled.

The shower lasts for only a few scant moments, before stopping, as if frustrated with the futility. Just as the last raindrop strikes it, a nearby hut suffering the most terrible decay finally falls apart, collapsing where it stands. Even as it lay fallen, the wood refuses to wet.

Where the rain has not disappeared down the cracks in the dirt, it has run downhill, away from the town's narrow slopes. The sudden, shallow flood pours out of the village, water hesistantly soaking into your shoes as it flows past them.

There are several larger buildings running along the center 'road' of town, possibly shops or bars of some type. All of them share the same neglected appearance as the rest of the town, but they probably aren't in danger of sudden collapse any time soon. At the center of Nakiahl is the only building that stands out from its peers.

A structure of dirty white stone, it stands firm with solid-looking construction and little ornamentation. From the Old Realm script over its entryway, it is most likely a survivor of the First Age.

Iron Soul looks over the wasted lands and buildings, then at the building with the words he can't read. ". . .huh. What caused this?"

Nadira frowns at the change in scenery, but then changes her expression to one of puzzlement at the buildings and parched earth below.

Platinum Storm crouches for a moment, scooping up a bit of dirt to rub between his fingers with a raised eyebrow. "Odd." Letting the dirt fall back towards the earth he straightens, striding forward towards the entryway. "...And even odder still." His look turns contemplative, hand going up to remove the pipe from his mouth. "That's a good question... although this-" He reaches out with his other hand to tap it. "-shouldn't be here on it's own."

Platinum Storm places the pipe back in his mouth for another puff as he reaches for the door handle, intending to open it.

The door slides open slightly as he taps it, offering no resistance whatsoever as he makes an actual effort to force the entryway. It's unlocked on loose, easy hinges. The atrium, as it were, is unimpressive. Another set of doors lies in ruin, although they were once far more secure than their outer counterparts.

Behind them is a hallway, and the sound of quiet moaning.

Iron Soul begins moving in with long strides, taking the lead if the others hesitate. "I don't like this."

The damage to the larger, more secure doors just inside is not recent work. They were torn... ripped perhaps, long ago with the pieces left inside the entrance chamber.

Nadira nods. "I wonder what happened to this place... maybe further inside we could find out?"

Platinum Storm finally frowns and puts out the pipe to stow away, taking a couple of steps forward towards the ruined doors though he doesn't protest letting Iron Soul take the lead. "I suppose that isn't a surpise... I wonder what's making the noise though. Keep your eyes open."

Fayul has joined #exalted

Nadira takes the rear, occasionally throwing a glance behind as she follows.

Once the circle moves down the hallway, it's easy to see what's making the noise--the dead and dying. There are half a dozen doorways on either side of the hallway, although some of the doors have been ripped off their hinges, similar to the larger doors in front. Through those open entryways, men, women, and children are visible, lying in beds and dying of thirst.

Iron Soul 's stare runs across them for several seconds. ". . .huh." He moves on, checking the next area for possible threats.

Platinum Storm lets Iron Soul go on, hurrying over to one of the still living and leaning over. "Can you hear me?"

Each is like the last, until Iron Soul opens a door into his fourth room. In there is a man standing upright, holding a large jug and facing away from the door. He's tall, and blonde, and it's obvious he hasn't bathed in a few days.

Platinum Storm, meanwhile, gets nothing but a blink and a whisper. It's barely discernable, but he says it over and over again. 'Booze... Booze....'

Nadira looks around the room for a bucket or something.

Iron Soul walks over to the man with the jug and puts a gauntleted hand on the man's shoulder, to turn him sideways and get a good look. "Tell me what's going on here."

Platinum Storm ... actually looks puzzled at that one, not expecting the words of the dying to be 'booze'. He straightens, giving the others cursory looks as he moves on. Though the amusement is definitetly gone from his face at this point.

>> "Gnn-what!" He spins easily, as if weighing nothing. A young man with stubble and weary eyes, he almost drops his jug from the jerking motion. "What are you doing?! I almost dropped--" He blinks, and takes a few seconds to register Iron Soul's existence. "Thank the gods, are you from the Confederacy?"

Nadira, meanwhile, can find nothing to hold water in the earlier rooms. It's just people, and beds, and misery.

Nadira makes her way over to where Iron Soul is while searching for water vessels.

Iron Soul glances down at the jug, then back at the young man. "Don't make me repeat myself."

Platinum Storm darts about Iron Soul to get a look at the man, waving a hand. "Eeeh... not exactly, my friend. If you could please describe what's happened here though?"

A few seconds more, and he also registers the strength with which those steel fingers hold his shoulder. "Er, ah, it's a disease. A magical disease." He looks over at Platinum Storm and pauses for another moment. "I don't recognize either of you, so look. If you're not Exalts or gods, you should run. Run, now, and don't stop. Infection takes a few days to set in, so you still have a chance."

Platinum Storm lifts a hand to gesture at the jug. "Ah. So what's in the jug then, my friend?"

"Trade secret," he replies, as if by reflex. Then, a few seconds later, he shakes his head. "Er, that is, I'm Reckless Draught, grandson of..." he trails off, as if trying to gauge the disinterest in Iron Soul's masked face. "I'm god-blooded. This contains a magical ale that can still manage to hydrate these poor people. It's the only thing still keeping some of them alive."

That's when he catches sight of Nadira. "... gods, you are gods! Thank you! I knew our prayers would be answered! My grandfather is Sign of Fortitude, I'm sure you've met, and..."

Iron Soul 's grip tightens on god-blood's shoulder. "Easy, now."

Nadira eeps slightly then regains composure. "Gods? Err... are you sure *you* are alright?"

Platinum Storm reaches up to rub his forehead. "Ah, that makes sense. But as my friend says, stay calm. When did this all start?"

"Gnnrk. Ah. Um. My apologies, it's just that your companion's beauty is, ah, so beautious and you're obviously very strong so..." He trails off again, before shaking his head. "I haven't slept in three days. Forgive me."

Nadira blushes marginally but quickly wipes the expression away with one of concern. "So, how much more of this stuff do you have? Surely you can't keep these people hydrated forever?"

"I..." He pauses, and looks at the ceiling. Suddenly, he focuses, and is a bit more coherent. "No, no I can't. That's why I sent the healthiest of the remaining lads to carry another missive to Marita. The Confederacy should at least send an exploratory commitee or /something/, I hope. These are hard times, but even they can't ignore something like this."

"There are maybe twenty men left who can take care of themselves, half as many women. They're holed up in the tavern across the street. I provide them with the ale and take care of their dying... I can't save them, but I can buy time."

Platinum Storm looks possibly annoyed for the barest of moments, though is expression is composed quickly enough. "Right. When did this start? Any idea what might have been the source? If there isn't that much time we need answers."

"I... no. I really have no idea what's going on, but this isn't a Wyld zone. The nearest bordermarch is a month away, for gods' sake. It has to be a spell... or something. I'm not much of an occultist, I just happened to be here when it happened, so I'm helping as much as I can. The only one who even claims to know what's going on is Knack, and he's..."

Platinum Storm says, “He's...what?“

Nadira raises her eyebrows. "He's...?"

Iron Soul just attempts to stare holes through the godblood's eyes, waiting for an answer.

He furrows his brow. "Not all /here/. Shaman, after a sort, but civilized as they come. They say he's over a century old, and he certainly is strange for a mortal. Thaumeturge. He lives just north of town, and says that this is 'Us Ancestors Getting Friendly'. I've talked with him half a dozen times on the matter, but he's not even coherent."

Nadira looks at the others in the circle. "Perhaps we should pay him a visit, see if we can get anything meaningful out of him?"

Platinum Storm gives the god-blooded an evaluative look. "We should. How long can you keep the people going?"

After a second, he manages to muster up some courage and looks Iron Soul in the eyes, "Just, ah, be /gentle/, alright? He's old, and the Drought isn't kind to him either."

Iron Soul looks to Nadira as she speaks, then back to the godblooded. After a few seconds pause, he finally lets go of the man's shoulder.

"A day? A week? If you don't let me go within a couple of minutes, I'm fairly sure I'll lose a little girl. Another one, that is. The children and elderly go first. The hardiest of the farmers could go a full year on my brews, I'm sure, but what will they have to live for?"

"Thank you. Look, if you want to keep talking, follow me."

Nadira turns and follows the god-blooded.

With that, he brushes by the Exalts, even Nadira, without a second glance. Soon, he's slowly pouring his ale into the mouth of a young girl who is maybe eight years old. It's hard to tell, since the fat has long since left her cheeks, and she is a scant few pounds from being literally skin and bones.

Platinum Storm follows as well, though he attempts to keep alongside. "So, Knack says this is Ancestors Getting Friendly? Has he said anything else about this disease?"

"I don't know. He's... he's not /normal/." Sparing a glance to assure himself the poor girl can't hear--and in her unconciousness, she can't--he continues. "He's wyld-mutated, for sure. He survives the Drought by drinking his own blood. Don't even try to think about how that works. It gives me a headache."

"When I try to talk to him, the headache just. gets. worse."

Iron Soul follows along and leans back against the wall, armor creaking slightly as he crosses his arms.

Platinum Storm has a frown etched on his rather normal features as he takes this in. "I see. He lives just north of here you said?"

"Small hut, the only one in town. If you're after a migraine of your own, you can't miss it. He keeps himself... primitive, but not offensively so. He's no barbarian, at least. He just likes their /customs/."

Platinum Storm says, “Customs? Such as?“

Iron Soul says "Let's just go and see for ourselves." He steps outside and waits for the others.

Nadira heads outside following Iron Soul.

Platinum Storm lets out a siiigh. "Knowing proper etiquette can make him mor-... oh forget it."

Platinum Storm waits for an answer before following his comrades, though.

"... I won't bother to explain. When you see him, you'll understand."

Platinum Storm says, “Helpful.“

"So are you."

With that, he moves on to the next patient.

Platinum Storm offers a slight shrug before heading on out as well.

Nadira once out of earshot of the god-blooded and once Platinum stops dilly-dallying says to the circle "Well, I didn't really have the heart to tell him about the messenger that we found."

Iron Soul simply says "Telling him would accomplish nothing. So why waste your breath?"

Platinum Storm says, “We can save that news for once this is done. Let's see what this shaman has to say.“

Iron Soul 's only sign of agreement is that he immediately turns and begins walking north.

The hut north of town is more or less exactly what you never expected. It's not made of sticks and animal skins, but tan bricks and a tiled roof. Still extremely small, it's easily the finest building in town besides the First Age structure that Draught is using for a disease ward. Of course, /outside/ the building...

Well, the oddest thing is the spike. Some of the Circle have seen similar displays in barbarian tribes before, but none quite like this. Instead of the skulls of predators, large and terrifying affairs with teeth the size of a man's finger, this spike hosts a procession of squirrel skulls, twenty in sequence, each more benign than the last.

At the bottom is a collection of acorns, where the twenty-first squirrel skull rests inside the head of a snacking critter. There are several wards, some painted in blood, others in ink or dye, and a number of other little oddities that absolutely do not belong in place with the dignified brick home of Knack.

Nadira muses over what the squirrel skull column means.

Iron Soul studies the sight. ". . .that is absolutely ridiculous."

Nadira gives up trying to comprehend the sight. "Well, at least I understood what he meant by headaches now."

Iron Soul shakes his helmeted head, before striding forward and in.

Platinum Storm slows to a stop, glancing from the skulls to the wards and then finally to the house. "Well." A moment passes. "It's certainly... new." And then he's edged toward the pile of acorns to give it a look over before just shaking his head, straighteing and winding his path towards the door. "For another day."

Nadira heads on into the hut as the rest of the circle is proceeding onward.

The old man is sitting cross-legged in front of a pit of ashes, a dead fire that went out long ago. He seems to be asleep, his eyes closed and head nodded forward, and it's obvious to see the effects of the Drought in his thin skin and visible ribs.

He's not... obviously mutated, from what you see of him, but it does seem he has a tribal background. There's a tiny bone used as a percing in his right nostril, and his eyebrows are laced with a strange green thread that glimmers only very slightly in the dim light.

Platinum Storm doesn't miss a beat as he steps forward, watching the man for a moment. "Ah... excuse me, sir?"

Nothing but his mouth moves. In a soft, severe voice, he intones, "Us is thinking you take your sweet time getting here, yes? Us not surprised. Us ancestors telling us all about beautiful girls, hm? Us /know/ that slow down every journey." Then he raises his head and lets out a loud, cackling laugh, eyes still closed. "CA CA CA CA CA!"

"Us welcome you, children of the sun! Us not expect three plus one, oh no, one would do! Us is most impressed, yes most impressed. Us think you do well now."

Nadira blinks, then does a quick headcount of the circle present. Semi-whispered to the rest of the circle "I count three...?"

Iron Soul looks to Storm and Nadira, then back to the shaman. He's too astounded to be irate.

"Us think there be little time for words! Us know as you do that the sun does not sit in the sky forever. Us be glad all days must end. Us also think it be wise to use time well, for time always running out. Us not know of way to get more! CA CA CA CA!"

Platinum Storm hitches, this time. That wasn't on the menu. Though soon enough he's given the man a bow and even a bit of a grin. "Well, this is certainly unexpected! As for the fourth, do you mean...?"

With a harumph, he's back to a severe tone of voice. "Us answer questions when they asked, not suggested! Us think you say what you mean, and nothing else, hm? Us perhaps wonder if you take lessons from the Dawn in this. Us respect warriors, more than fops." Then, in a moment again, he's back to cheerful. "CA CA CA CA CA! Us is just joshin'. Us say yes! Us means the Moonchild."

Iron Soul takes this in for a second, then turns and looks behind him, outside the building.

Platinum Storm smirks, waving a hand. "Apologies. The... Moonchild? Interesting. Interesting /indeed/. So where is the Moonchild right now?"

That's strange, Iron Soul. The falcon sitting just outside the doorway isn't eating the squirrel.

Iron Soul narrows his eyes, then begins slowly walking toward the falcon, his hand creeping over the handle of his blade.

Nadira turns and looks at where Iron Soul is going.

Platinum Storm spares a glance to where Iron Soul's plodding off to.

Knack just arches an eyebrow. "Us not like the sound of that... Us wonder if you KNEW about moonchild, perhaps? Us apologize! Us always think everyone friends, men, and heroes, and spirits, and ancestors, yes?"

Nadira sighs quietly. "If only it were that way."

A squirrel darts out of the warzone, into the hut, and up his shoulder. "Us forget in old age! Us forget, little beast brothers friends too!"

Iron Soul strides right up to the falcon, if it lets him, and stares it in the eyes, helmet-to-beak.

Platinum Storm ...chuckles for a moment. "Ah. It would be quite an age if all were friends, but sadly that isn't the case."

Iron Soul says "Cut the crap. Present yourself, or get out of my sight."

Platinum Storm finally gives into curiosity, shifting to look at Iron Soul's confrontation with the falcon.

"Us wondering, what would happen if Moonchild also turns into a beautiful woman?! Us think it take very long time for mighty heroes to get anything done." With a sigh, he picks up a walking stick from nearby, an old gnarled thing that looks older and sturdier than most dragon-blooded. To the sound of a groan and several pops, he uses it to slowly work his way up off the ground.

Ibis is the bird, no denying that by now, stared down by just about everyone else in the room. It cocks its head at an angle at Iron Soul, and then glimmers with silvery-white markings, backing up out of the doorway as Knack gets to his feet. With a surreal kind of a warping, shimmering effect, it turns into a person. Just. Like. That.

Ibis looks back at Iron Soul with a neutral look on her face. Maybe she's six feet if she tries really hard, with skin the colour of tanned leather and thick green hair like leaves. "Geez." she mumbles aloud, "Sorry."

Nadira clears her throat and heads over. "Well, he's like that. I'm Nadira."

Platinum Storm says, “You'll get used to it, eventually.”

"Us is in despair! Us thinks it is time to hurry, before mighty warriors start taking off armor." With all the speed and agility of a century behind him, Knack hobbles forward once, then twice.

Iron Soul keeps his eyes on the falcon-woman, and his hand on the handle of his daiklave. But he doesn't make any moves. Yet. Better to let this play out, for now.

Ibis cocks her head to one side, breaking the contest of wills with Iron Soul and edging back out of Knack's way. She glances up at Nadira for a second, then over at Platinum Storm. She flicks a twig off of her traveller's robes, and asks the old man...

"Us thinks it is time for everyone to follow Knack!" It's notable that he hasn't quite made it out of the hut just yet. "Us warn you, no funny business! Us got eyes in the back of us head!"

Platinum Storm gives a bit of a bow. "Wandering Platinum Storm." He quickly straightens at Knack's words, chuckling. "Well then. A pleasant surprise, all the same." His gaze falls upon the shaman again. "We were... ah, right then!"

Ibis says, “... what are you on about. The funniest business here is y--“, before she just kind of trails off into a mumble and lets the topic go.

Without responding, he just starts to ramble to himself. "Us must admit surprise. Us think mighty heroes come in and beg for wisdom, asking 'Us wonder what goes on in this town, Knack?' or 'Us need help curing the Drought, Knack!' Us instead get insults and bickering. Us forget even mighty heroes young too, once."

"Us gets stuck with newbies! Us face so many trials." As he hobbles past the assembled Exalts, each far greater in stature and power, Knack rolls his eyes. The ones in the back of his head, that is. They're right below the bulge in his skull, and looking terribly unamused.

Yep, definitely a mutant.

Ibis lets the introductions go unanswered, looking skeptical about Knack's ability to get to the point.

Nadira crosses her arms against her chest. "Well then, what wisdom *do* you have to offer us?"

Iron Soul finally takes his hand off his hilt as the insult is given. "You already know why we're here. Don't waste time."

Platinum Storm starts to follow Knack, blinking at the eyeshow. "Well, that /is/ what I was going to point out, although for a moment I thought you were going to skip that."

"Us say this: Long journey ahead of us, so prepare! Us must take us all to grave of grandmother Mira, honored ancestor. Us let -her- explain strange curse. Us cannot fix it, heroes cannot fix it, but perhaps heroes can get one who can, yes?"

Knack turns around the corner of his hut, slowly hobbling forward.

Platinum Storm says, “Perhaps, ah, one of us should carry you?“

Nadira looks Iron Soul's way as Platinum Storm says that.

Knack stops, suddenly, and his eyes just STARE at Platinum Storm. "Us is from PROUD culture! Us think you do well to remember that." Everyone smells the stark odor of burning hair.

Iron Soul stares at the situation unfolding before him, then turns to Nadira. "Ketrus/C1S1/You/ can carry him, sister."

Platinum Storm lets out a shout, hands going to his head to quickly pat /that/ out.

Nadira pauses for a moment. "On second thought...maybe not."

Ibis adjusts her weight and takes a few steps with the gnarled old man, the gigantic blue-silver spear on her back sliding down as the strap struggles to stay in the right spot. "This land is dying quickly, and the people with it." she says gravely, a kind of stern reminder in stark contrast to Platinum leaping around with ribbons of flame licking at his hair.

Nadira says, “Yes, yes, I suppose we should get on with this then. The sooner done the better.“

“CA CA CA CA CA! Us always want to do that." With that, he turns another corner, disappearing behind the hut. "Us is here! Us present most sacred grave of honored ancestor, grandmother Mira." Behind the hut lies a simple stone marker, perhaps two hundred years old and far too worn to actually be read.

Ibis struggles with something, caught between wanting to burst out laughing and sighing exaggeratedly.

Iron Soul steps next to Ibis, as he looks over the 'most sacred grave'. He quietly says "If you're willing to assist, then so be it. But just one warning: if you try to do anything to my brother or sister that I don't like, I will gut you. Remember that, and there will be no problems between us, falcon."

Leaning with one hand on his walking stick, he waves the other one behind him. "Us need the chatty one to help in ritual, so come! Us summon up ghost of honored ancestor, but this is most difficult during daytime."

Platinum Storm mutters something as he continues patting out the lat few embers. "Well, was due for something new... hm?" He lowers his hands, looking at the grave with a raised eyebrow.

Ibis raises her eyebrows, "Aaaah..." she murmurs, eyes on the gravestone. She looks back up at Iron Soul with a vaguely interested look on her face.

Ibis says, “I think I like him.“Platinum Storm says, “I'll be honored to help, sir.“

Nadira looks on with curiosity.

With that, he reaches out with unnatural speed to grab Platinum Storm's wrist, and bring his fingernail across the Eclipse's palm. Far sharper than it has any right to be, it cuts a thin red line across Platinum Storm's skin, and blood spills onto the grave marker. Knack then lets him go and rests back on top of his walking stick, which hasn't quite yet tilted over from its position, upright on the ground.

"Us is saying, Get Up You Lazy Girl! Us has some talking to get done!"

Platinum Storm gives his hand a cursory look, willing the cut to seal before focusing on this ritual. Although it's certainly a... blunt approach.

Knack waits for a few moments, as nothing happens. "Us know Exalted blood most valuable, so get on up out of there!" He whacks the gravestone with his walking stick, and then there's a low rumble.

Ibis folds her arms, one eyebrow cocked. She says nothing.

A thin dark cloud, nothing more than a wisp really, builds up from the base of the gravestone and slowly collects above the heads of the assembled men and women. Slowly, it takes form into something vaguely feminine, a cloaked figure with hood drawn over a long-dead face. Glowing purple eyes radiate disdain at their summoner, and a stern voice intones, "WHAT does my most worthless and hideous failure of a grandson require of me now?"

"Us is thinking you talk too much! Us say you look around, and see that this failure fetched four Exalted for great great great grandmother! Us command you to take them to her prison, wretched girl, and see that no one gets in their way, yes?"

... there's a grim silence, as the robed figure stares down at Knack, before the woman beneath the hood tosses it aside... and pouts. She's eighteen, maybe nineteen at the most and whines in a young, nasally voice, "But graaaaandson, that sounds HARD!"

Platinum Storm ...has to put effort into keeping his expression serious. A lot of effort.

Ibis flicks her hair, the surreal situation seemingly beyond her.

Iron Soul just stares. What he's seeing hasn't quite clicked in, just yet.

"Us is accepting no arguments!" With stern authority, knack points north. "Us reminds you it is long walk, and the clouds have many eyes! Us say go! Us think you can tell them all about great great great grandmother on the way."

Nadira smirks briefly but gravens her expression at some kind of attempt for respect for the dead.

Platinum Storm suddenly has this sinking feeling.

Mira's jaw just moves up and down a bit, then she snarls and points, her voice suddenly severe once more, "A most terrible curse upon you, wretched descendent and unworthy heir! Know that your task will be completed... but at what COST?!"

Spinning, she floats towards the north in a fit. Behind her, Knack's few remaining white hairs turn purple. "Us says off with you! Us thinking it not long until sunset!"

Platinum Storm ...finally can't help but chuckle. "My thanks.... though please don't set me on fire again, sir." He offers the shaman a deep bow before moving to follow the ghost. "Curious indeed..."

Nadira stretches and says "Yeah, thanks for your help." before heading to the north.

Iron Soul follows behind the others, pausing to stare at Knack for a moment, before shaking his head and moving on.

Ibis says, “Mmmm! Simple, right?“

Ibis skips ahead of Iron Soul and picks along the path to the north, passing Nadira along the way.

Your ghostly guide floats all of twenty feet forward before stopping, raising a pale hand. "Stop. We must go no further."

Platinum Storm slows to a stop, eyebrow raised. "Why's that, if I may ask?"

"Our enemies have many spies. Up ahead, on the side of that hill, is a flock of raitons. Ten by ten, they wait, neither dead nor truly alive, to take wing and warn their fell master of anyone leaving the village." Her hand points forward, and a hill covered only in dead and dying grass is straight ahead. Sure enough, it is dotted with small black shapes, although they are hard to see at this range.

Ibis says, “Hmmm... let me see!“

Ibis slips around the group and squints, trying to pick out the size and shape of the vague shapes off in the distance. "That's troublesome if they are."

"Should they take wing and fly beyond a stormcloud, they will be lost to us, as will the element of surprise."

Platinum Storm taps a finger. "Hm... Nadira and Miss.. I don't believe I caught your name. Either way, I think you two might be best suited for this. Perhaps Nadira making sure none get away while you have at them..."

Iron Soul crosses his arms. ". . .I'm a liability, right now. Sorry."

Ibis turns to face the circle, glancing Platinum's way, then Iron's.

Nadira considers for a moment "I don't think there's much else we could do..."

Ibis says, “... I never gave out my name. Um. Sorry. “

Platinum Storm says, “Well, that was an invitation to introduce yourself. Not important at the moment. How many do you think you could take... and Nadira, can you ensure none escape?“

Ibis seems perfectly content to leave it at that.

Nadira says, “I can try.“

Platinum Storm frowns for the barest of moments. "We will need a guarantee. I suspect things will get far tougher if warning is given."

Platinum Storm glances at the skies for a moment to get an idea of how many clouds are about.

Ibis slides a hand across her face, thinking with a loud, drawn-out sigh. "Well, I can get over there pretty quickly if you'd like us to run with that. We can't loiter here forever, scared off by a pack of carrion-eaters."

They are starting to part, no longer overcast, but the sky is still full of opportunities to escape for the sorcerous birds. Fortunately, none of the clouds are all that low in the air. It would take them quite a while to make it that high, and a natural bird probably couldn't even at the best of times.

Platinum Storm says, “I believe the best way then would be for you, Miss, to lead the attack. Try to herd them away from the clouds as you slay them. Nadira, you'll have to pick them off... with attention given to those that seem most likely to escape.“

Ibis says, “Don't make it sound too easy.“

Nadira says, “Shall we give this a shot?“

Platinum Storm grins. "I was about to suggest you assume your other shape and take them from above, if you think you could make it without being noticed."

Ibis says, “Bah! My name's Ibis. I don't like those stupid titles like the one I got given, so that'll do you for now. Don't make me regret helping you. Let's go.“

Iron Soul holds his position by the teenage spirit and crosses his arms. "Good luck, siblings. Falcon."

Platinum Storm smiles. "A pleasure, Ibis. Hopefully it won't come to that."

Ibis sucks in a deep breath, and starts off towards the raiton pack at a loping stride, racing across the open ground as an opalescent glow starts to ripple through her form. She springs into the air and contorts, warping and changing, until nothing's left but a familiar-looking falcon. It races off, gaining altitude quickly.

Nadira cautiously slinks through the surviving grass to the best of her ability, darting from treetrunk to treetrunk and rocks, trying to get a closer look at the prey.

Iron Soul watches the others go out and grumbles to himself, fidgeting. He doesn't like doing nothing. He waits for a few seconds more, then says "Screw it." He unsheathes his daiklave and goes over to some nearby trees, and begins carving up some impromptu throwing spears.

Nadira readies her bow and quickly launches four shots downrange, trying to nail a different bird with each shot.

Platinum Storm blinks, watching Iron Soul. "...Hm, didn't think of that."

Three arrows find three marks, but the fourth suffers a different fate.

It soars towards a raiton just as it attempts to cry out a warning to its fellows, after seeing three of its brothers die messily. Instead, an arrowhead fills its beak, and it stumbles backwards on the ground. Clumsily, it takes flight, and all around it sixteen other raitons do as well.

Iron Soul stabs the end of his daiklave into the ground and grabs hold of the first of his primitive spears. As the wretched birds begin to move, he lifts the spear up to his shoulder. Leaning back, he fills his lungs with air and takes one, two, three steps forward, before swinging his arm out and launching the splinter of wood through the air like a missile, tearing through the wind, toward one of the raitons.

The silver of wood does not arc gracefully through the air, no, instead it flies forward with unstoppable purpose. It travels clean THROUGH one raiton, resulting in an explosion of feathers and a fine red mist, before clipping another. The second raiton loses a wing, and goes spiralling to the ground. As for the splinter itself, well, it continues to fly far into the distance, long after everyone loses sight.

The wicked birds scatter, in all directions, half a dozen staying low to the ground and retreating behind the hilltop so that the Solars can no longer see them. The others fly up in every direction, now eight in number plus their bewildered companion, weighed down by an arrow still stuck in his beak.

Platinum Storm darts forward a well, plucking one of the spears as well and giving it a twirl. "A new thing to be sure, but when nothing else presents itself!" And with that he lifts it, giving a nod of thanks towards Iron Soul before letting it fly towards a raiton as well.

Not nearly as dramatic as his companion, Platinum Storm nonetheless sends a primitve spear through a raiton, and it falls gracelessly to the ground.

Nadira takes aim and fires again, three at the closest birds remaining, and the fourth, ricocheting off of one of the close ones onto one further away.

Ibis drops out of the sky like a stone, snapping back into human shape in a blurry haze of moonlight. She rights herself as she plummets towards the Raiton flock, green hair streaming out behind her in a frenzied, wind-whipped plume. Spear in-hand, she slams into one of the mangy birds feet-first. And off again, she leaps towards the pack escaping behind the hills, bringing the silvery polearm to bear as she falls.

A bird taking flight lowers itself to the ground, trying to get cover as three of its brethren die easily in the air. He soars close to the grass, mere inches from his own shadow, when something else appears before him. It's another shadow, travelling oddly, a madly twisting, turning shape.

This shadow, that of an arrow pinwheeling through the air after bouncing off a raiton's beak, intercepts the bird's own and the arrow lodges itself deap into the creature's ribs. It dies with the rest of them.

Narrator changes topic to '9, Iron Soul, Raitons, 12, Ibis, Nadira, Raitons, Platinum, | Zack, Shastao, WatcherX, and Ark. DooM joins them next week. Gasmask and Fayul running Lunars seperately (gimme charsheets and a time, please?) '

Iron Soul delivered a fine shot, but it's not over. There are still many getting away, farther out of reach. Iron Soul pull off one of his gauntlets and feels the breeze. He then lifts up the last spear and launches it. . .up and to the right of his targets.

Iron Soul squints as the splinter bends along in the air, the high-altitude winds curving its arc. It comes down to stab into one of the birds that is above the others, hopefully causing a chain reaction that will have it drop into the midst of the others, disorienting all.

Iron Soul , miss or hit, snatches up his daiklave and starts moving toward the action.

His skill fails him this time, and Iron Soul only manages to miss completely, the projectile sailing to the other side of the hill. Fortune, however, still seems to favor him, and the spear neatly bisects a bird on the other side.

Platinum Storm gives it a moment. Just a moment. Then he's tapped a foot once before sprinting towards... and springing onto Iron Soul's shoulder with a grin as his staff clears cloak, snapping into place. "Think you can give me a bit of a lift up to our avian friends?"

Ibis lands on a fleeing raiton with the grace of a cat, the precision of a cat, and the weight control of an elephant. The poor bird buckles, and snaps underneath her feet, and she springs one last time into the middle of the fleeing pack of raitons, five remaining. She gets just enough air time and speed to bob up right between them, axe-like arced edges of her hybrid lance beginning to crackle and hiss with a life of their own.

Ibis whips her entire upper torso around with a big shout, cleaving an arc of fiery silver force through the middle of the wasting, rotted pack of undead birds. She looks...

Ibis looks delighted .

Ibis rides the bloody corpses of the small flock, all the way to the ground. All that remain are three raitons well within the visible range of the Solars.

Nadira draws three arrows on her bowstring, takes a deep breath, and fires, streaking each arrow with ever so slightly a deviation to send them screaming to each of the raitons.

Three more would-be spies fall to the ground, pierced clean through for their troubles.

Iron Soul snatches at Platinum's belt, and you get the feeling that behind his helmet, he's grinning. "Just remember. . .you asked." He then begins spinning, making full use of his armored weight to build momentum, spinning Platinum around at breakneck speeds.

Iron Soul then suddenly ends his spinning with a sudden stomp into the ground, literally burying one of his feet in the dirt, as he slams his arm forward. The air pressure behind Platinum is like a cannon, exploding behind him as he takes flight.

With a cry of "I GOT IT!", an overeager teenager of a ghost appears fifty feet in the air, straight in front of a fleeing Raiton. Opening her mouth unnaturally wide, with all the practiced ease of a python, she swallows it whole and tears into it with gleeful malice.

Then she notices an incoming Eclipse, 'eeps' quietly, and disappears once again, taking the raiton with her.

Iron Soul looks up. ". . . .oh. Oh well."

Platinum Storm lets a smirk cross his face as he begins to take flight, snapping the staff back bringing his limbs together to help... of course, then he takes a moment to actually notice that the last raiton has been happily gobbled up by the ghost. Leaving him quite the predictament. And so gravity begins to take effect, his arcing flight beginning to descend towards the hill.

Platinum Storm glances at his staff for a moment before turning in midair, unhooking one part and then shifting it about so that one point is aimed at the ground, the rest detached and held at his feet. As he nears impact... he thrusts the staff at the ground before attempting to kick off the rest to propel himself back in the air for a far more controlled landing, leaving the staff planted there in aftermath.

Ibis looks proud of herself, casually stepping aside as a downpour of ichor, stitches and mangy feathers catches up with her actions.

Platinum Storm twists into a simple and safe landing, even taking a bow before he goes to retrieve his poor staff.

Platinum Storm flicks a wrist, snapping the seven section staff into a more compact form to tuck away.

Ibis slings her big spear back over her shoulder and starts back off towards there the others were. At least, she thinks that's the right direction. Wait a sec. . .

Platinum Storm glances over at Ibis, giving a little wave. "Good show!"

... eventually, everyone finds each other atop the hill. "So, yeah, good work team!" your guide says with bloodstained teeth and red, crusting ichor running down her cheeks. She's picking her teeth with an arrow.

Ibis points a finger, learning forward with an inquisitive look on her face. "Whose familiars were those, anyway?" she queries, eyes narrowed. "And is he the one poisoning this land?"

"Um, familiars, not so much. I'm not really sure HOW they work, but magic isn't exactly my THING. I'm more of an adventurer!" She smiles cheerfully, pausing for a moment. "Well, I was an adventurer." She looks down and away, "That is, I was going to /be/ an adventurer." With a furrowed brow, she quickly explains, "But my stupid travelling companion knocked me up like two days out of town and by the end of the year I was cooling in a casket!

"It's not fair!"

Platinum Storm holds up a hand. "Ah... if I may, the one responsible? We should probably get moving as well, in case they are missed later."

"oh, right. Well, death by childbirth still sucks, especially when your descendants are retards and mutants!"

She heads towards the north once again, interrupting herself with, "Ah! That's right, I was supposed to tell you about great grandmother. Well..."

---

The circle travels behind their ghostly guide, as she explains the history of her great grandmother, once a mighty sorceress of the Dragon-Blooded. Far stronger than even her fellow Dynasts could have accurately guessed, she welcomed the exile that her lifelong romance, intrigue, and tragedy awarded her. Shunned by her peers, she came to found this small village where a First Age settlement once stood, naming it Nakiahl.

Thus did Nakia the sorceress live out the end of her days, and pass into the Underworld some thirty years after her dubious 'retirement'. Two or three miles north of town, the landscape begins to get... odd. There are canyons here, odd and intersecting, deep and narrow with no rivers to carve them. They are simply THERE, without explanation. Fortunately, a series of rope bridges provides passage where they are too wide to leap over.

Eventually, the group comes to a valley, far enough away from the village that the flora is again in full bloom. Gentle white wildflowers dot the landscape of green grass and the occasional tree.

In the center of the valley sits a stone structure, of different make than the First Age building back in Nakiahl. It is hewn of a red-brown stone, more recently built but just as utilitarian as the renovated hospital. The only ornamentation is an inscription in old realm, set in jade above the entryway, and three concentric rings of salt set into the ground, each wider than the last.

Ibis looks rather thoughtful, putting something together in her head.

Platinum Storm gives the salt circles a cursory glance, attention fixating on the inscription on the entryway which prompts a chuckle. "Abanon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here... must not entertain often."

Ibis says, “But is the ward keeping things out, or in?“

Taking on a firm tone of voice once more, your guide sets her hood over her head. "You must remove only a single block from the rings of salt, so that I may pass. Once I do, immediately replace them, making sure that no passage is granted before the previous ring is once again whole."

Ibis waggles her spear, still on her back, towards the building as if to drive the point him.

She does not answer Ibis.

Iron Soul cracks his neck side to side. "Thing makes me wanna just march right in."

Platinum Storm glances at the ghost. "Ibis has a fair question though. I assume Nakia is... entombed in here or something to that effect, but it never hurts to be /sure/."

"Who knows what shadows leap, where men dare not watch and the light of the Sun finds itself unwelcome? Here be dragons, long forgotten."

After her grim warning, she stands wordlessly outside the outermost ring of salt.

Nadira glances around to keep watch that it is safe for someone to take down the barrier briefly.

Ibis looks this way and that, as if waiting for someone else to make the first move. After a few seconds, she hops forward. "I'll do it, here, hold on."

Platinum Storm rubs his wrist for a moment, debating before letting out a sigh. "Sun above..." Then he's glancing at the others. "Shall we, then?"

Ibis drops down on one knee and hums, darting her hand this way and that way, before arbitrarily picking a block of salt and hoisting it out. "That one?"

The ghost floats towards the gap in the wards, her corpus narrowing itself to squeeze through the new passage in the conceptual barrier.

Wordlessly, she awaits for assistance on the next barrier, and the next.

Ibis is there for the next one, and the next. Nothing fancy.

Platinum Storm focuses on something for just a moment before nodding to himself. "Simple enough..." He carefully follows along, though he gives the ghost another piercing look for the barest of moments.

Mira leads the Exalts into the building, which is unlocked and unguarded. Inside is nothing at all, but for a hole in the ground, perhaps ten feet in depth. The ghost floats down easily, and activates a most simple art of the dead. Ghostly light surrounds her, making the passageway below visible.

Ibis trails close behind the ghostly leader. The shimmering silver of her weapon's blade casts equally-ghostly afterimages as the dim light plays across it.

Ibis says, “Spooky.“

Platinum Storm blinks, a frown cementing itself on his face as he gives Mira an evaluative look.

Nadira follows, descending into the passageway behind the ghost and the rest of the party, one hand on her bow.

Iron Soul covers the rear, taking careful note of how much space is in the passageway they go through.

The tunnel is dank and dark, and the smell of wet stone and some distant rot is heavy in the air. It would be impossible to see, if not for the unearthly light eminating from your guide. Opposed to the gentle fire of the Exalted anima, her radiance is a bright but indefinite thing, a glow of deep purple without shape or warmth. It only adds to the feeling of foreboding such a place provides.

It continues on, farther than anyone can see. It is just wide enough to allow one person after another easy passage, but it is by no means comfortable.

Platinum Storm ...finds his hand holding Serpent's Fang, almost on instict as he walks.

Iron Soul keeps his grip on the handle of his blade, as he tries to keep from scraping his shoulders against the walls.

The passageway grows a little wider, after a few minutes slowly descending in a wide spiral. The curve becomes more severe, as does the slope. More harrowing than uneasy footing, though, is a new addition to the stone surface of the tunnel's walls. Bones, human bones, are easily visible, sticking out from the rock here and there.

"This was Nakia's secret--why she chose THIS place for her little exile. Great-Grandmother had discovered a story of the Anathema from the First Age, when the Dragon-Blooded first overthrew them. It is said that mighty warrior among the Solar Anathema managed to defeat his betrayers in their initial attempt on his life, and fled from the assault.

"After a long year of flight, he grew tired of running and confronted his enemies upon an open mountaintop." Continuing onward, it's now possible to see the dull gleam of long-neglected jade sticking out of the walls of the tunnel as well. Armor, armor forgotten an age ago lies buried here, and it is not alone. Finery, mortal and magical, accompanies the scattered remnants of the fallen.

"The accounts Nakia read claimed he slew one thousand Dragon-Blooded before the thousand-first pierced his liver on the midnight hour. Words were exchanged, though none recorded them. With the last of his strength, the Anathema then brought his daiklave down upon the very earth, shattering both. As he fell onto his broken blade...

"So too did his body, and those of all his enemies, fall into the earth." An ancient lance of jade sticks out of ceiling, like a stalactite, its blade still sharp from days of glory.

"So great-grandmother came here to excavate, and hopefully recover the lost treasures of one thousand one Dragons." She almost seems to... pout, then, and her tone changes again. "Of course, THEN she finds out the goods are all CURSED. Of, fucking, corse." She pauses a bit, and looks over her shoulder. "Don't touch anything, by the way. Your soul might fall off."

The skull of an ancient Dragon-Blooded, still wearing its jade helmet, seems to smile.

Platinum Storm lets out a low whistle, though soon enough it trails off into nothingness along with his sense of caution, as under developed as it might already be. A glance towards this ancient treasure and that, wonders long lost... Such magnificent works he thinks as he leans in close to examine a particular piece of red jade, crafted in a staff not unlike his own orichalum one.

Ibis didn't hear that last one, she's busy following the trail of bizarre runes on the wall. Funnily enough, they lead into this intriguingly gorgeous looking dual-pronged spear embedded right in the bedrock. She gets up on the tips of her toes and has a lapse in attention, stroking it with one finger.

A shriek. A mournful wail. Scared, hateful sounds, seemingly muffled but all too near, fill the tunnel. Then the hands appear, grey, ghostly things that reach up through the floors, and out of the walls and ceiling. Two by two, they reach out and grasp at the rock's surface, as if trying to find purchase.

Platinum Storm suddenly whirls, the brand of the Eclipse alight on his head as he shifts his stance, one leg slightly forward as his movements slow every so slightly, taking on a more... snake like quality. Staff held in a loose grip he stares at the hands, mind racing.

Platinum Storm kicks into action on the next heart beat, moving down further into the tomb as Serpent's Fang sings out once and then twice, batting at the hands that would seek to impede the movement of this particular Quicksilver Falcon.

The agony seems almost far-off, as the hands wilt and and disappear to the sound of muffled screaming.

Iron Soul growls as he draws his blade and slashes it across the right wall, and then the left, using his daiklave's size to hack off as many of the ghostly hands as he can alongside his companions, shearing off a part of the wall itself as he does so. He tries to push forward, while not stumbling into everyone else in the cramped tunnel. "Move now! We can't get boxed in here! Get to an open space!"

His strikes dig deep furrows into the stone and absolutely pulp the ghostly hands.

One pair of hands above finally takes hold of the stone, and they seem to tense for a long, silent moment. With a wail and a sudden pull, the hungry ghost behind them erupts from the stone in a shower of rubble and dirt. The ancient thing is half flesh, half skeleton, its body fading into translucency in some places while others are startlingly real.

He rears back his head and screams, his breath black fire and forgotten oaths. His comrades, half memory, half reality, erupt from the floors and walls all around him, filling the passageway with the rage of the long dead.

"Omigawd!" Startled, your ghostly guide chooses this time to disappear.

Nadira takes aim at two of the ghosts near her

Ibis backpedals a step or two, a glittering full circle of silver on her forehead casting off the faintest glimmers of moonlight to the cavern. Sidestepping a burnished gold pauldron in the floor, she brings her lance across at the nearest half-rotted ghost in an arc of mercury-tinged force.

Ibis says, “There's no end to 'em! “

Platinum Storm says, “Just keep moving forward!“

Both halves of Ibis's victim reach out for her, in a futile attempt at a counterattack, before the corpus of the long-dead thing dissipates completely.

Platinum Storm whirls about, staff snapping rigid for a brutal swing at one ghost's head. Then he whirls about, using that momentum to propel a second strike on his opposite foe. The pose is held for the barest of moments before he pushes against the ghost more, propelling himself forward towards Nadira's fray as the staff is snapped back into it's sections for a quick jab at a third ghost. "You too, Nadira!"

The bloated things, garbed in ancient armor and carrying wispy memories of powerful weapons, counter his lightning-quick attacks with qualified success. One of his targets fails in its defense, and is unmade completely by the unstoppable blow of orihalcum in flight.

Iron Soul grunts, as he bangs his daiklave against his shield. He turns his back to his comrades and begins backing up, as he faces what looks like an unending horde. He snaps his sword arm down, then lashes it up, to cleave a ghost right up the middle, before shifting his grip and making sideways swipe through another one, smashing the blade into the side of the tunnel as he does so.

The first ghost is split in twain, almost effortlessly for the prodigious swordsman, but the second takes only enough damage to send it barrelling backwards, grabbing its side in imagined torment.

Ibis ducks a couple of peices of falling rubble from Iron's little altercation with the wall, and continues on through with the momentum. The mark on her forehead flares brightly, casting a little silver flare into the gloomy melee. Her lance follows suit, a crackling charge of pearl snapping off of the blade in a sudden blast as she cleaves it through two more of the wispy, screaming, tortured dead.

Nadira smirks, laying two arrows against her bow and drawing back, taking aim at the nearest ghost. "Time to die, again." She then turns, repeating the same for the next closest.

Ethereal shields catch the arrows, and a wooden spear long ago decayed and gone bats one away. The dead, unamused, make good their counterattack.

Shadows of tactics forgotten long ago play out, with armored dragon-blooded striking in tandem and a monk in his robes leaping into the air with the slow grace of a ghost, his grim, clawed foot swiping at each Exalt in turn.

Platinum Storm narrows his eyes, shadows dancing across his face from the burning brand... and moving with his every step, shifting with him as if they are one, cause that much more difficulty when the weapons of the dead seek to drag more to their embrace.

Iron Soul slaps his daiklave over his shield and thrusts both upward to catch the dead monk's foot, then whips both his arms out and away, to launch the enemy farther down the hall.

Ibis tries to put a halt to her own momentum and get out of harm's way by jamming the butt of her lance into the wall and leaning backwards, feet starting to slide out from under her.

Nadira attempts to evade the ghosts of long forgotten times by reaching into the depths of her mind for any recollection of such countermeasures, suddenly realizing her castemark is glowing.

The wrath of the dead is only so much bluster, today, as the glorious champions of the Moon and Sun are untouched by their careful assault.

But their number might impress, where their skill does not. Reinforcments pour in from behind, in front, and through every wall all around, until the Exalted are once more surrounded. Even as they press forward, they find themselves attacked from all sides.

Platinum Storm whirls about the attempts on his life, the end section of his staff snapping loose to plant itself in the face of the one that decided to lash out at him first. As the golden metal snaps back his eyes narrow, his voice bellowing in Old Realm. "Spirits of warriors fallen, you can't hope to stand against us! Cease and some of you might yet be spared!" And then he's suddenly kicked up onto Nadira's shoulder for a moment,

Platinum Storm says, “snapping the fast and loose staff at the side of another ghost before sliding off, twisting it back into rigidity for a final strike on another one threatening the archer.“

While they cannot hope to stand, they float fairly well and manage to avoid all three of the blustering Exalt's attacks.

Iron Soul backs up a few more steps, as he watches the endless hordes crawl into the tunnel like maggots. "You guys like crawling out of the earth?" He slams his daiklave into the ceiling above him, right up to the hilt. He twists the blade with a sharp grip, then adjusts his hold on it, arm extended. "Well the earth wants you back." With that, he yanks his blade down, tearing part of the ceiling down with it, to crush all that stand

Massive chunks of rock and jade begin to rain down upon the Exalted, as well as the hungry ghosts materialized all around them. The tunnel quickly begins to collapse, the damage spreading outwards from the point of impact.

Weaving through the throngs of hungry ghosts, malicious at any cost, the Exalted

Weaving through the throngs of hungry ghosts, malicious at any cost, the Exalted outrace the rockslide by a narrow margin, a great rolling tide of rock behind them.

There's a scream, ghostly but intelligent, a perfectly understandable cry of,

"WHAT THE BLOODY CORPSE-FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE?!" Mira stands, frantic, jumping up and down near another ring of salt set into the walls and ceiling straight ahead.

Iron Soul charges behind the rest, diving head first with his shield held before him. He touches down and rolls back up to his feet, daiklave swiping up to readiness, just as the rubble collapses under him.

Ibis hurtles back towards Mira on shaky legs, springing this way and that inbetween the falling chunks of jade, earth and rapidly-dissolving ghostly matter. She heaves the lance upwards, changing direction just in time to shatter a falling chunk of stone that probably would have taken her head off. And in one, painful, careful moment... forgoes subtlety and wedges a salt block out of the ring with her lance. "Get MOVING!"

Platinum Storm kicks forward from where he was already hauling ass, springing of a good sized airborne chunk of rock flying through the air thanks to the mess to propel himself to and past Mira. A tip of a non-existant hat towards both Ibis and Mira as he twists to land and just keep on running.

Mira -flies- with speed greater than anything the Exalts can muster, away from the collapse.

She leads you into what is, at last, an end to the haunted tunnel. The passageway opens up into a large chamber, one consisting entirely of bones. A dome at least thirty feet high, the ceiling, the walls, even the floor are made of bones of the dragon-blooded. Their arrangement, seemingly random, somehow falls together into a room almost perfectly smooth, far better in quality than any mortal cobblestone.

Rubble bursts out of the tunnel behind you, scattering rocks and pebbles across the surface of the Manse. The ghost turns and rears back to scream, before she gets an odd look on her face, and draws her hood over her head.

"That... was unadvisable. There is only one other exit to the surface, and you will be -most- loathe to take it. Come, and let me show you the nature of this place."

"Nakia felt, as any sorceress would, the great potential of such a place. She made it into a Manse, one aligned not with the dragons, the stars, the sun, or the moon--one aligned with the very inevitability of death itself." In the center of the chamber is a building, it too constructed of stone. A hexagon, it is perhaps fifteen feet high and not very large, at least as small as the entryway on the surface.

"We must make journey to the hearthstone chamber." The ghost seems to look upwards, into the ceiling, for a brief moment. "And quickly! Hurry now!" With redoubled speed, she flies into the chamber, passing easily through the closed doorway.

There's a distant wail behind you.

The tunnel is destroyed, but so too are the wards that might have been able to keep them out.

Iron Soul gives the others a quick look over to make sure they're alright, then rushes ahead to follow the ghost. "No matter. We'll make our own exit, if need be."

Ibis exhales exaggeratedly, looking quite winded. She follows suit, "I get a pretty bad feeling from this place." she murmurs worriedly, "Not good at all."

Platinum Storm rests his staff on a shoulder, sparing a glance back towards the tunnel. "A thousand Terrestrial dying in one place would give that sort of feeling." And then he's on the move.

The inside of the hearthstone chamber is no more welcoming than the outside. In the center of the cold stone walls is a most terrible altar, one made entirely of human bone. The surface of the thin, tall table is made of fused ribs other, smaller bones, giving it an uneven surface.

On its center is a jet black gem, glowing very softly in a pale white light. All around it are shards of... orihalcum, their magnificent light not at all dimmed by the dreary surroundings. They are massive, simply massive, and obviously the broken remnants of what was once a mighty blade.

Once all four of you are inside the tiny chamber, Mira pauses for a moment, looks up towards the ceiling, and intones quite severely, "NOW, we must leave."

She removes her hood as she leads the way.

Platinum Storm spares the pieces a glance, mulling for a moment what must have shattered that blade.

She exits through the same door you entered through, passing straight through it. Odd, it must have closed itself after the last of you entered.

Iron Soul looks at the stone, then the shattered blade, then the ghost going back just the way they came. "Are these what we came for?"

She's gone.

Platinum Storm frowns as he turns to follow. "If the ghost of the one who bore those is still here like those previous ghosts, we should leave them be. Terrestrial ghosts are one thing, after all...

“The ghost of one of our own... for another time. Far in the future.“

Platinum Storm makes to open the door.

Leaving the hearthstone chamber, you do not exit into the grim bone dome. No, it is to a much more frightening sight that the Circle and its new companion greet the new night. They are outside, upon the stone of a black basalt mountain overlooking a valley of strange shadows and sickly purple wildflowers. Black clouds overhead rumble, and a bolt of crimson lightning seems to set the sky afire.

With exasperation in her young voice, Mira says, "FINALLY! Here we are, Deme, Kingdom of the Underworld, Vassal to Aki--Mightiest Empire of the Underworld." She blinks, suddenly, and looks over at the gathered Exalts. "Don't drink the water."

Session End

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