Ketrus/C1S2

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Dramatis personæ

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

• Mira : Slightly mad ghost of a woman killed by childbirth, Knack's grandmother
• Mysterious Musician : Visiting a town of the dead, he plays a strange violin from the First Age
• Little Girl : The ghost of a long-dead girl, oddly aware of her surroundings
• "The Warden" : A monstrous ghost of a slain Earth-Aspect, guarding the captured corpus of his murderer
• Nakia, The Twisted Reins : A beautiful ghost of a powerful Air-Aspect sorceress, captured and guarded by a victim of her ancient betrayal.

Summary

Finding themselves in the Underworld, the Circle and Ibis make their way into a Contagion town not too far from where Nakiahl lies on the surface. Within the dark and haunting place, they find several grim wonders, including a strange temple to the Unconquered Sun that, for some reason, no one in the Underworld had yet destroyed. Using its enchanted bell to summon the ghostly townspeople, the Solars try to organize a search for the ghost of Nakia, just as Ibis finds herself ambushed by two warrior effigies waiting in sentinel outside a stout building.

After destroying them, they charge in to find a waiting opponent. It is the giant, grisly ghost of an ancient Earth-Aspect martial artist, who attacks the Circle viciously. Overcoming many of his arcanoi, as well as his considerable physical might, the Exalted destroy him. He reveals himself to be a nephwrack in his death throes, and is consumed by Oblivion in his destruction, leaving behind nothing but a devestated public hall and the soulsteel key needed to free his prisoner. The party lets loose Nakia, the Twisted Reins. While they succeed in this, their initial task, the Circle now finds itself trapped in the Underworld with little remaining essence. The shadowland that allowed them entry still exists, but within Creation it is blocked from the surface by a tunnel Iron Soul himself collapsed.

Session Two

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."

Platinum Storm ...just kind of stares out at the landscape. "Pleasant."

Ibis quietly stares out at the alien skyline for about a minute, and then quietly tugs her cloak around her and pulls the front of it up over the lower part of her face, in a makeshift muffler. Her shoulders heave up and fall in an exaggerated sigh.

Iron Soul 's helmet slowly turns from side to side, scanning along the horizon. ". . . . .we should keep moving."

Ibis says, “We need to get out of here.“

Nadira asks, “How?“

Platinum Storm answers, “Another shadowland.“

Ibis glances off to the side, shifting under the weight of the gigantic spear on her back. "But... there aren't any nearby, are there?"

"Hey, uhm! Yeah, we can't go /yet/," Mira protests. "We have to go down into town and rescue great grandmother first, right? Otherwise, this whole trip is a waste and you'll have destroyed her tunnel for, like, nothing!"

There is a chill in the air that has nothing to do with altitude. The clouded sky spits a biting breeze that cuts through cloth and skin to freeze the very bones. Seemingly in response, a strange reaction takes hold of their artifacts, weapons, armor, and jewelry alike.

The orihalcum begins to glow, with the same dim radiance of a Solar just beginning to unmask his glory. Unlike the anima banner of the Exalted, however, it crystalizes a scant inch from the metal's surface, forming a strange moving shell that encases the wonders with almost-solid daylight.

The moonsilver shines as well, but in a different fashion. A flurry of white motes dashes up and down the surface of Ibis's weapon, the glowing dots slowly setting into place one by one. Then they expand, into the form of Creation's snowflakes, each as beautiful and different as the last. Unlike the warmth of the orihalcum, the moonsilver cools. It is not the deathly cold of the Underworld, however, but the invigorating nip of

Iron Soul hefts his daiklave up and holds it in front of him, watching the strange reaction of the orihalcum.

Platinum Storm glances at Mira with a raised eyebrow. "This part got left out...." He trails off, adjusting his arm wraps to examing his bracer for a moment. "This gets better and better."

Nadira is startled a bit by the reaction on her orichalcum but upon seeing it be relatively benign, puts her arms back down.

Down, beyond the foot of the mountain, there is in fact a town near where Nakiahl would be. It is perhaps a mile and a half south, through a grassy field of unearthly purple wildflowers.

Iron Soul looks to the others for a second, before shrugging his plated shoulders and moving on ahead, keeping his blade and shield in hand.

Ibis sidesteps a misshaped, blasted bit of rock, and is off towards the town right behind Iron Soul. She waves a hand, as if to beckon the others along.

Ibis says, “Things aren't going to save themselves. Let's go.“

Nadira nods and follows.

Platinum Storm follows Iron Soul and Ibis, stretching his arms out over his head for a moment. "Nothing like a stroll through the Underworld..."

Mira claps her hands excitedly and follows just over Iron Soul's shoulder, pointing and naming various landmarks each in turn. She seems to be enjoying the role of a tour guide, although nothing she says is at all familiar. It goes on and on about the history of this supposedly great Empire named after its founder--Aki. This is, apparently, the historic back-country of the Underworld, not much more urban...

... than the nearly abandoned farmland up above, in Creation.

Ibis eyes Platinum with wary pits of amber, looking worried. She says nothing.

Iron Soul seems to ignore the ghost completely, as he steps along the black basalt, armor softly clinking together. If he's listening, he isn't showing any signs of it.

Platinum Storm raises an eyebrow at the Lunar curiously, absently listening to the tour guide.

After descending the mountain at a quick pace for twenty or thirty minutes, the sky once more bleeds red forking lances of lightning, shouting a thunderous sound that more closely resembles a scream. Not long afterwards, rain begins to fall, but not the familiar and nourishing rain of Creation.

A gentle show of red droplets, unmistkably human blood, fills the sky. The coppery tang hangs in the air and invades the Exalts' noses, ears, even their eyes. It pools and runs down their hair and clothes, and forms slick and narrow rivers all along Iron Soul's armor.

Nadira pans back and forth looking for potential threats, keeping with the group, glancing up at the sky and its terrible wonders.

Then there are flowers underfoot, strange purple things that almost, but not quite, seem to glow in the light of the thunderstorm. As the rain hits them, the blossoms wither and fall, releasing a fine indigo mist that compliments the smell of the rain with the stench of burning flesh.

Iron Soul holds his shield up above his head, to keep the 'rain' from getting in his helmet. "Bothersome."

Ibis hurriedly reaches back and throws the hood of her cloak over her head, tugging her makeshift muffler tighter. "Onwards." she says, angrily. "This place comes alive, like some sick affront to nature trying to drive us from our goal."

"Huh?" Mira finally takes notice, and looks up at the rain. "Oh. Yeah, I guess that's sort of unusual where you come from. Hey, look, without the rain, how else are the crops supposed to grow? Those Contagion towns rely on this sort of thing, or they'd never get /anything/ done. Crazy bums." Coming within clear sight of said 'Contagion town', it is quite unlike everything the Circle has seen so far.

Nadira manages to hold back from becoming sick at the sight, and silently makes a glowering face at Mira.

It's better than Creation's corresponding version. Tall, proud buildings of strange but oddly familiar stone, rise from the ground among well-paved roads and bright magical street lamps. Old script signs inform all newcomers that they will shortly arrive in the city of New Harrack's Conquest, Population 5,402.

Platinum Storm coughs, reaching up to adjust his cloak to try to deal with the blood rain while continuing to walk. "I... see." A couple of moments to look at the place before he nods. "So that's why it's a Contagion town, huh."

Mira nods, and says, "Yeah, these old-timers all kicked the bucket at the same time, and most of 'em wouldn't have held on and made it here if it weren't so sudden. Stupid bastards think they're still /alive/, and so they just keep on farming. Feeds the armies, so who's going to argue?"

"Great grandmother is hidden somewhere in town, but we don't know where. So, uh... go, and do your heroing thing, y'know? Find her, free her, play a theme song or something?"

Ibis shakes her head in mild disbelief, blood-rain dripping off of her cloak in thin rivulets. “Start looking for suspicious buildings. The less time we spend in this dead land, the better...”

Iron Soul slows his pace, reflexively shaking his right shoulder, a small pool of thick crimson liquid splattering off. "This place is ancient. We don't belong here. Lets just hurry and find her. What's she look like?"

Nadira rubs her forehead, accidentally smearing some of the blood-rain around, trying to comprehend this place and the task at hand.

"You can't miss her! Floats three feet off the ground in a flowing gown woven of gossamer hopes and dreams, six eyes, and she wields the arms of a Talon with living, flowing hair!" Mira rubs her stomach. Ketrus/Great/ cook, too."

Platinum Storm glances at Mira. "What's got her in such a bind?"

"Um. You know how I said this was a kingdom, vassal of an empire? We sorta kinda pissed off the king. So they captured and imprisoned here--somehow--and er..." Mira rubs her foot in the ground, looking sheepish, "... utterly ignored me for being too weak to stop them."

Ibis folds her arms and paces a few steps forward, turning around and looking at the rest of the group at large. "So," she says quietly. "Will we split up and search? Will we all go at once?"

Nadira says, “Keeping a presence in numbers in a ... place like this would be advisable.“

Platinum Storm lets out a vexed sigh at that bit of news, turning to face the ghost. "Ah. How'd you all manage to get on the king's bad side? Also, where do they hold people who land themselves deep in it?"

Iron Soul pauses, then looks out back to the city. "Are there any buildings that seem obvious? Any place that would have had a corresponding jail cell in the other town?"

"Um," offers Mira, "We didn't have jail cells in Nakiahl." She blinks, and slowly pulls thd hood over her head. "Those who transgressed were punished with swift and final justice, their bodies deposited in the nearest body of water."

Mitsuki has joined #exalted

Platinum Storm says, “Please tell me she didn't get put under the water or something like that. “

"That is unlikely. They would take such a powerful foe prisoner, in hopes of later enslaving her mighty essence. The water would only devour her whole, consuming her entirely so that none would later snare her soul"

Ibis squints, drawing a circle on the ground with the toe of one of her boots. "So we're looking for a large lake, and a ghost?" she asks, quite serious.

Iron Soul grunts. "We'll get no where just standing here. If no one has any immediate ideas, then we'll start the search from the center, and then triangulate. Something will come up."

"No. It is more likely she is somewhere in one of these buildings, hidden among the unwitting villagers. These poor fools may be able to offer clues to her location, you may choose to simply ransack the town. Be mindful! She will not be undefended."

Ibis walks off, taking Iron's advice to heart. "Don't do anything violent." she says dryly, starting her search alone.

Platinum Storm yawns, winding his arm about. "Not a lake, apparently. Somewhere where they can hold her." He chuckles at that bit, mulling. "I suppose we talk to the folks then." As Ibis begins to walk he moves to catch up. "'ey! We gotta keep together down here. This isn't the same East."

There are only two villagers out in the streets, in the rain of blood. Both are little girls, looking to be no older than eight, frolicking in the rain and singing pleasant songs that somehow do not carry in the strange, heavy air. Laughing, one of them holds up her head and sticks out her tongue, catching the blood and lapping it up as if it were water.

Iron Soul turns from the departing Ibis to Platinum Storm. "She can go alone if she wishes. It's her choice. Not a wise one, though."

Platinum Storm says, “It assuages my conscience to try to stop such choices. That good feeling, y'know.“

Platinum Storm offers a light hearted shrug before he makes his way to where the girls are playing.

Iron Soul just folds his arms and stands back, watching over Platinum Storm and Nadira from a small distance away.

Ibis approaches a house on the edge of town, a two-story building of unornamented stone. The door has a label carved in Old Script, and is unlocked. There is the faint sound of laughter from inside.

Platinum Storm can hear a similar sound, girlish tittering, from the girl who opened her mouth to the sky a short while ago. Her companion, silent, smiles and begins to dance, spinning about with her dress flowing outward in momentum. It catches blood and flings it all about, surrounding her in a slow, faint fountain.

Ibis gives a tug on her hood and pushes her way inside, boots thudding heavily on the cold, dead ground.

Passing the previous building by, Ibis comes to a relatively massive four-story affair, with a cackling gargoyle engraved over the doorway. Two buddies on either side hold stone-carved mugs of ale, and a strange stringed instrument is above them all.

Platinum Storm takes a couple of steps closer before finally crouching a bit, chuckling and offering a bright smile. "Hey there, little misses. Can I ask you a few things?"

As her friend dances, the more vocal little girl giggles and nods. "Sure, mister! But there's only ONE of me." She's speaking in Old Realm.

Inside is a scene out of the old stories: A tavern full of people, although unlike the old stories, none of them yet live. They are listening to the most unearthly of music, a joyous sound that somehow could not make its way outside. Appropiately haunting but far too cheerful for such a cold and forlorn place, the tune echoes from a strange instrument a single man plays on a stage on the far end of the room.

Even as he plays one portion, another overlays with it, his foot manipulating a strange device that records his music and allows him to be his own accompaniment!

Platinum Storm nods, speaking in the same language. "Of course, of course. Tell me little miss, has there been anything odd going on around here lately? More folks around a spot, folks you don't recognize, that sort of thing."

"Once I saw a man with ten hands," she says, giggling, "Giving women /massages/ in the middle of the street! It was so strange and my father said to never tell anyone about it EVER. So I always say it first thing!" She laughs, and her friend keeps dancing--suddenly, though, she splits in two, an image of herself several seconds ago shadowing her movements. Then, a second, and a third ghost of the ghost trail behind her as she

Iron Soul 's patience soon wears thin, as he steps behind Storm and places a gauntleted palm on his shoulder. "We're wasting time with children. We should go start from the center of town, and work from there. It's basic architecture. If you're holding someone prisoner, you don't want them held right by the edge of town."

"I once saw a prisoner! She was old and wrinkly, and trapped like a rat in a... in a trap! They say she could open the earth and make it weep tears of obsadan, but I don't know what that is."

The little girl fidgets. "Do you like my doll?"

Ibis barges her way inside with the heavy-set thud of barely-hidden armour and stands still, gauging every last miserable bastard sitting in the makeshift tavern. She looks at the musician onstage and points at him. Crystal clear, "I'm looking for a ghost-woman prisoner with six eyes and a fancy dress." she asks, straight to the point. "Quickly."

Platinum Storm glances up at Iron Soul for a moment. "Fair enough." He straightens, beginning to offer a bow before he stops, smiling. "Your doll's lovely, little miss. A prisoner, you say? Where did you see this?"

"Um. In town somewhere. I think it was by the old church, where the bell killed old Tommy Mister. Four by four is sixteen! Did you know that?" Her doll suddenly leaps into the air, the mirror images vanishing as she shrinks into a little plaything, a 'girl' of woven cloth and yarn-hair that nestles itself in the little girl's arms.

The ghostly little girl licks blood from her lips.

Ibis, meanwhile, makes little to no impact on the crowd of people. The musician simply winks at her, and it's then that she notices that no one else responds at /all/. They're all looking up, entranced at the man's performance. Even the bartender stands utterly still, a rag and an empty glass in his hand.

Platinum Storm smiles. "I didn't, little miss. You're quite a smart girl. Can you show us the way?"

Nadira continues onlooking the conversation with a glazed over look on her face, not understanding anything anymore.

"That'd be dumb! Mom always said to never talk to strangers!" With that, she laughs and skips towards the middle of town, stopping every now and then to stomp down and splash big puddles of blood.

Iron Soul shrugs his shoulders. "There's your answer, brother. Let's just go." With that, he starts walking to the center of town, which just coincidently is along the path of the contrary child.

Platinum Storm raises an eyebrow, glancing at Iron Soul as he swaps back to Riverspeak. "Sweet kid. Wonder if she's leading us anyways. Shall we? Maybe we'll find someone who knows where this church is at least." With that he walks alongside the walking armory.

Nadira raises an eyebrow. "So, she will take us to our destination?" she asks, following the others.

Ibis takes a look around the tavern, but what is there to see? There are stairs upstairs, and here's a door in the back that likely leads to the kitchen--but there's no hidden doors or mysterious gaps in the ceiling or anything.

Platinum Storm says, “Maybe. Iron Soul's right though, center's the best spot to start. “

At the center of town is an oddly welcoming sight: The sunburst crest of the Unconquered Sun, loudly proclaiming the purpose of the white stone temple at the center of town. Elegant and practical, there is little ornamentation but what there is represents excellence and majesty quite clearly.

Platinum Storm says, “Well I'll be dammed, didn't expect that. “

"No one goes THERE, anymore, but everyone's too scared to take it down 'cuz the last man who died got turned inside out by a mouse."

The little girl pauses for a moment, then looks at the Exalts. Since they seem asborbed at the sight, she picks her nose discretely, and flicks a booger aside.

Platinum Storm glances at the girl, switching back to Old Realm. "This i the church you mentioned earlier, right little miss?"

Iron Soul ignores the child's foreign squawking, and instead squints through the eyeholes of his helmet. ". . . .hm. This place /is/ old." Without further delay, he strides closer, to the door.

"Ummm... yep." She doesn't sound too confident, but there is an obvious bell steeple in it." She looks at Platinum Storm strangely, and says, "Do I know you? You're like my Uncle Tommy, but you seem dumber."

Tall, twin doors stand in Iron Soul's way, sturdy things that seem like they might require a dozen mortals each to shove open, even unlocked.

Platinum Storm says, “...I don't believe so, little miss. Thank you.“

Platinum Storm goes to follow Iron Soul, shaking his head.

"Stranger, Stranger! Lock up the children and hide the girls, it's a stranger, a stranger!" Giggling, the little girl skips back into the streets to play in the rain.

Nadira looks to Platinum Storm. "What is a place like this doing here?"

Iron Soul places a hand on one of the door handles and casually tries to push it open.

It's... heavy. But not heavy enough to stop a Chosen, especially one of Iron Soul's might. The door opens slowly but surely, into a temple long-abandoned, even by the standards of the Underworld.

Iron Soul looks behind for a moment, to see if his siblings are following along, then wordlessly turns and starts walking inside, blade drawn.

Platinum Storm lets his arms fade back into the cloak, one hand going for a section of his staff. Needless to say his eyes are flicking about this way and that.

There's dead, then there's forgotten. This place is both. Dusty, but without even cobwebs to keep it dusty, it is full of simple stone symbols that stir wispy half-memories in the Dawn's iron soul.

Nadira shrugs, giving up on having anything explained or understood on this day and time, and heads on in, bow in hand.

Platinum Storm immediatetly starts poking about for anything of interest.

Ibis after a few minutes, sweeps in behind Platinum, Nadira and Iron Soul without much of a fanfare. "I haven't had any luck." is all she says, looking off to the side.

At the center of the room is a large stone statue of a man with four arms, twice the scale of a mortal. Two of the arms are held out, and in those hands is held a small little thing, a rodent of normal stature. An inscription underneath the towering figure reads: Let all who look upon this face learn to fear the gods.

Platinum Storm glances at Ibis, shrugging. "We ran into a kid who might have had something... trapped like a rat, hmm." He steps up to the statue to give the rat a closer look.

Iron Soul looks upon the strange statue, his eyes only glancing over the indecipherable gibberish incsribed below it.

It's carved from stone and not likely to go anywhere, Platinum Storm.

Ibis says, “Well, just letting you know about my findings.“

Platinum Storm lets out a sigh. "Yeah... this is frustrating. Maybe they need a wakeup call."

Ibis is out of the building again, leaving the Solar circle to their own devices...

Iron Soul nods. "Maybe so. Enough tip-toeing around the issue.

Platinum Storm stretches. "Let's see how a bell summons them. Maybe a speech."

Platinum Storm goes to find himself some stairs up to the steeple

They're easy enough to find, although it takes a minute or two.

The bell is a large and traditional affair, made to be heard throughout the town--although that is in Creation. Sound has an odd way of travelling in the Underworld.

Platinum Storm glances at Iron, grinning. "Care to do the honors?"

Iron Soul turns to Storm, then to the bell. "Nothing to it. . .but to do it." He twists the daiklave in his hand, then bangs the flat of the blade against the bell. Once. . .twice. . .thrice. . .and so on.

Ibis branches off through the dusty, bloodstained streets of the little dead town while the Circle investigates the temple and bell. Leaving nothing but footprints and solemn questions in her wake, her method of searching is less than subtle. Passing from building to building like a glowing moonsilver ghost shrouded in a bloodied cloak and calmly asking for the same thing, again and again and again. The underworld wears on her, and it s

Platinum Storm steps out to the edge so he can look out at the square, waiting patiently to see if anyone decides to actually show up.

Shattering the air, the unmistakable tolling of the bell fills the town. After the first ring, the rain begins to slow, and after the second, it stops. By the third ring, the ghosts in the tavern slowly break from the enchanting song now overshadowed by Iron Soul's call. One by one, ghosts drift out of their homes and gathering places to see what disturbs the forsaken temple.

Nadira gets on her guard as the ghosts begin to filter into the square.

Platinum Storm smirks before murmuring for Nadira. "Get up here beside me. Look official like. Iron... do that whole foreboding thing you do."

They gather there, pointing and talking amongst themselves. They are peasants and farmers, each frozen in time at the age of their deaths, each unaware that the time of the Solar reign is even older than their grandparents' stories.

Platinum Storm schools his features into something more imperious as he watches the growing assembling, arms crossed and hints of gold visible as he waits until it looks like the majority of the town has assembled or no one else is coming.

Iron Soul rings the bell several more times, before leaving it to stand to the right of Platinum Storm. He stands straight and tall, blood dripping off his wide shoulders. He looks down upon the massed people.

Nadira meanders over to Platinum Storm, throwing back the hood of her cloak.

Platinum Storm closes his eyes for the barest of moments before they snap open, staring down at the ghosts as he spreads his arms. The voice of the Quicksilver Falcon echoes from the edge of the balcony. "PEOPLE! CITIZENS OF NEW HARRACK's CONQUEST! We have called you here to assemble to carry out a decree given to us by our master! We wish to collect the prisoner, she who is clothed in the hopes and dreams of people such as yourself! Her time for judgement to be passed has come, and as such you are ordered to bring us to where she is being held!

“If you do not know where she is, then rack your minds and memories for where one might be held! Where anyone you do not know has been gathering! For if this is not carried out quickly our liege will be angered and his wrath will come down with the force of Heaven ITSELF! So think! And think /carefully/. We do not have an infinite amount of time to waste."

Iron Soul waits for his brother to finish talking, then leaps down from the balcony, catches a part of the temple wall and kicks off from it, before landing with a loud crash, right in front of those that stand nearest in the crowd. As the dust clears, he swings his in a dismissing motion. This armored man wishes them to act NOW, and he will not be denied.

"Aah!" Comes a cry of dismay, as one man falls back. The rest hold firm, but barely, before dispersing slowly to all portions of the town. "We will find the sorceress, soldier..." "... find the sorceress..." "... find..." "... fiiiind..."

They march slowly and solemnly, only a few of them betraying their terror in their expressions.

"... haahahaaaaaaahaaaaaa...", low and haunting laughter carries on the wind. There's the sound of a great clash in the distance, and a flare of essence not far from here. Ibis has found something, and a half score of fearful ghosts head in her direction.

Nadira says, “What was that?“

Platinum Storm says, “Something /interesting/.“

Platinum Storm springs off his own perch to follow Iron Soul's lead in descending to the ground. "Shall we while the good citizens go through the place like a comb?” And then he's off and jogging towards the essence.

Iron Soul simply grunts, as he lowers his metallic frame and dashes forward, to meet the disturbance head on.

Nadira hops down, idly doing a twirl vaguely mimicing the girl from before on the way down, before sprinting to catch up with the others in checking out the noise.

"Sorceress, look!" "... find!" "We found a sorceress!" "She moves with the grace of a bird in her steps!" "Find..." In various states of lucidity, they point out a scene which the Solars might find interesting. The Lunar Exalt is under attack, by a couple of statues.

They are guards, carved in effigy and long ago brought to a semblence of life by the strange magic of grave goods. Wielding stone polearms shined to an unnatural polish, they strike out at Ibis in a synchronous attack.

Ibis reacts fast, moving like her nerves are strung to breaking point. Which they are. At the first sign of danger, Ibis all but explodes backwards in a hurtling flash of movement, propelling herself backwards with a slam of her spear's butt to the ground. She sails onto the wall of a nearby dilapidated house and slides down onto the awning.

Iron Soul holds his shield in front of him as he rushes forward. When he sees the situation before him he mutters ". . .damn her." He leans even farther forward as he runs, clouds of dust and dirt debris being kicked out behind him, pushing his weight forward to propel himself in a beeline with the statues.

Nadira decides to scout ahead, and jumps onto a nearby barrel, bounding off of it, knocking it over backwards, as she soars onto a nearby rooftop. Nadira jumps to the next rooftop, kicking into a slide down the roof, sending tiles into the air, as she makes her way towards the sound.

Platinum Storm doesn't spare any time as he darts forward as well, Serpent's Fang clearing his cloak in a whirl of golden movement and cloak flapping in the wind. Finally it's snapped into place as he springs past a few of the less than helpful ghosts, nearly clipping one in the head with the rigid sun staff.

Ibis springs off of the awning in two great big steps. One, two, LEAP! Her boots crunch into the ancient tiles on the building and spray worn ceramic fragments out like a gravelly starburst as she rockets into the air like a comet. She rises up and seems to stop for a moment, bringing the gigantic, silver lance to bear against one of the guys on the ground.

Ibis narrows her eyes in concentration, and drops out of the sky like a four hundred pound moonsilver weight. She draws and arm back and throws her polearm ahead of her with a battlecry of effort, the weapon shooting out of her hands like an awfully sharp ballistic missile, replete with shrieking as it screams towards one of the walking stone targets.

The terrifying weapon is intercepted as one of the statues raises his own polearm to block. Unfortunately for it, the moonsilver blade slices clean through the shaft of his polearm, and cuts off about half of his head before landing upright in the ground behind it.

Both eyes of the unliving automoton blink, one of them on the ground.

What is left of that statue flexes its legs, as well as its brother. They leap, straight up, to intercept their attacker and lash out with the weapons /they/ still have in hand.

Ibis hits the ground and goes low, features disappearing under her cloak, which dislodges some from trying to keep up with her pace. From foot to foot, she stumbles backwards, caught offguard as she tries to get around the incoming assault. One hand snakes out for her weapon, but that time is not now.

Ibis makes a last jerk backwards, skidding just out of the way of the incoming hammer-blow from one of the dark stone menaces in front of her. The shot goes over her head by maybe an inch. Ibis hauls her spear out of the ground with a loud grunt, hefting it by the shaft and giving the damn thing an almighty twirl, stepping back into position. A few seconds after the fact, shattered stone and pavement fall from the sky and hit the ground

Nadira punctuates her arrival on the scene with a sudden arrowshot coursing for the head of one of the statues, shot from a nearby rooftop. "Oh, what sort of mess did you get yourself into?" she calls out to the Lunar.

Platinum Storm dashes forward as Nadira lets fly with arrows, staff suddenly swinging about in a golden corona to lash out at the same creature's left, then a snap of the staff and whirl for a quick jab to the chest!

Another chunk is knocked off the stone attacker as it falls, now missing its right hand as well as half its head.

The thing loses the rest of that arm, and what's left of the head. It's now a one-armed soldier wielding the upper half of a polearm, still walking and fighting despite the deep cracks expanding across its well-beaten surface.

Ibis doesn't give Nadira an answer yet, wrapping one gauntleted fist around the ocean-blue shaft of her lance. She takes one big, careful step forward and turns it into a sprint, leaving weblike cracks in the ground with the force of every thundering step. With springboard force, she launches herself off of the ground and sails over the already-damaged statue's reach, landing on it's shoulders with an audible crunch.

Ibis grits her teeth and drives the beautifully curved spearhead down on the statue's midsection with the force of a falling star, glittering arcs of silver electricity snapping and ribboning away from her weapon like so much faerie fire.

Ibis falls to the ground, as the poor guardian beneath her shatters. The street is littered with rubble, but the other statue advances without even a trace of fear in its unmoving, carved eyes.

It brings its weapon down on Platinum Storm, apparently giving up on Ibis as a target for right now.

Iron Soul leaps up as he closes the distance, only his silhouette visible against the backdrop of the black clouds. For an instant, lightning forks down behind him, briefly glinting off the man's metal layering, crimson rain dropping down around him. The reflection is gone in an instant, the only light coming from the massive, golden sword, as the figure plummets downward.

A growl slowly rises in volume, until the figure is once again in view, bellowing out a wordless cry of battle. The echoing sound of another lightningbolt resounds through the air, only this one is from the solar's sword, as he slams it down along with his fall, to cleave its way clear through one of the statues with one blow, from top to bottom.

Platinum Storm shifts his gaze up at the incoming polearm, detached staff already snapping into place again before he ducks low to the ground, left palm held out while the right hand spins the staff in a circle above his form to knock the offending blow astray. "Got to be faster than that!"

And the Circle's enforcer proves his position once more, the Dawn cleaving his enemy in half with a single, almost perfect strike. The thing teeters from its failed blow for half a second, before a thin line of golden essence runs down its body...

... and it explodes, with exactly as much force as Ibis's final blow.

Ibis flatly turns her blade to one side and makes a face as rubble pings against it.

What were these fallen sentinels guarding? It is a simple stone building, like many of the others, but something had caught Ibis's eye: It has a series of signs above and around the door, and one of them is in Riverspeak. All say the same thing.

Platinum Storm spins his staff about once more before straightening, letting out a whistle.

"For the Security and Safety of All Concerned, Please Do Not Enter on Pain of Eternal Torment. -Thank You, Management."

Ibis jams the blunt end of her spear into the ground and leans on it, shaking the dust and rocks out of her cloak.

Ibis says, “So I found this place. I think it's important.“

Ibis gives a little smile for the first time in a while.

Nadira hops down from the rooftop and approaches the others.

Iron Soul turns away and shakes the pieces of stone from his blade with one swing, as the statue collapses behind him. He looks over at the signs. "Could be."

Platinum Storm glances up at the sign. "I'd wager you're right. Let's let ourselves in."

The door is locked, of course, but the hinges are no thicker than a man's wrist and made of simple stone. It's almost insulting. More ghosts gather now, all pointing and murmuring and awaiting instructions. These nigh-immortal men and women lack weapons of any kind, but they are too curious, too terrified, or simply too dumb to resist the sight and command of the Solar Exalted.

Iron Soul cracks his next to the side, as he kicks open the door and strides in.

Iron Soul 's blood is up, now. He feels the need to keep moving.

Flanked by three ghostly warriors on either side, a massive figure twice the size of Iron Soul stands ready and armored, laughing at the approach. "Little man, you should have not given me such advance warning!" he laughs, as he raises his jade grand goremaul high with three of his eight monstrous arms.

Ibis is scrambling to get on her feet and be right behind Iron Soul, but too little, too late.

Platinum Storm takes this moment to dash forward, springing up onto Iron Soul's shoulder in a possibly familiar position for the barest of moments before he's zipping through the air, swinging once at the warrior with his staff as he passes. Miss or hit, he's hit the ground and skids and spins to face the man. "Careful! This one's got some talent!"

The cackling figure has six eyes, and no nose. Four of his teeth are massive, bloodsoaked fangs and all eight of his arms end in claws quite sharp enough to rend even Exalted flesh. Armored in ancient garb, he spins his weapon, which alone is heavier than Iron Soul himself, from hand to hand like it weighs nothing. From his position in the middle of the room, he simply swats aside what blows he doesn't absorb as baby taps.

"Weak, you pitiful mortal! Perhaps you should let your women do the fighting, tiny man!"

Iron Soul bangs his daiklave against his shield, not budging an inch back from the imposing figure. "Big man. . ." He rushes toward the massive warrior, weapon brandished, and at just the last moment. . .cuts to the side and delivers a backhanded slash to decapitate one of the cronies. ". . .just wait your turn."

As the head flies off the poor guardian, the gigantic ghost laughs, long and hard. Then he /blurs/ into motion, passing the hammer from one hand to the next, each and every one of them taking a swipe at Platinum Storm. "As long as you show me the same patience, armored one!"

Platinum Storm raises an eyebrow ever so slightly as the flurry of strikes begin to descend before a wide grin appears on his face. "You know, you made a rather grave mistake my friend." As the goremaul reaches an inch's distance he suddenly explodes in a storm of white and gold, each temptest and ripple seeming to carry duo and trios of the Eclipse to trip up each attack. Laughter echoing as each misses, with one even deigning to sit on the rapidly moving goremaul and give the ghost a game wave. At the end of it all he's still standing where he was, the storm of esssence in full swing around him as his hertiage blazes forth. "We aren't run of the mill mortals. We are those that beings mightier than your pathetic gods have chosen to empower."

"Hah! Gods? No gods or demons or dragons grace me, you pathetic Anathema! I stand on my own two feet, forsaken by the pitiful toys of the living you call deities! Let us see you keep up this speed for a minute, an hour, or a day! I know no fatigue"

Four of the ghostly soldiers wordlessly converge on Iron Soul, the fifth shouting a single Old Realm word: "THREE"

Platinum Storm lets out a long sigh. "Fatigue? No, no, no. You don't get it. You might stand on those feet of yours, but you're dead. We aren't. It says something, don't you know. You shouldn't worry about fatigue in the slightest."

Platinum Storm disappears into the raging essence storm around him, and then blows start singing from it, each accompanied by an arc of white gold. One, two, three, and finally a fourth. A string of strikes from each direction, loose rubble knocked away as tapestries on the wall sway with the wind from each. In the eye of the storm is Platinum, swinging his staff back and locking it back into place while beckoning with the other hand.

"Fear on the other hand, that's something to worry about. Try again if you want."

Iron Soul dips his blade out to his right, catching the tip into a rounded table. With a grunt and a meer flick of his wrist, the table is tossed up in the air right in front of him. Iron Soul turns his back to the table, letting it cover him, as he sweeps out with his shield and sword.

The ghostly blows manage to take chunks out of a table and ring against Iron Soul's blade, but they don't even begin to approach his armor.

Platinum Storm, meanwhile, makes about as much progress against his foe as the soldiers did. When his staff at last makes contact with the man's corpus, it simply bounces off as if striking solid stone. This is the power of the Jade Mountain Form and its related charms--unless this titan is moved from his spot, Platinum Storm knows, his unnatural flesh will be harder than granite.

Nadira leaps off of the ground with a yell into a lateral spin, unleashing three arrows in rapid succession, one guard to an arrow, before hooking her foot onto a nearby balcony, pulling herself on top of it.

One catches it with the flat side of his axe, another catches it with his shoulder.

The third catches it in his eye, and falls to the ground, his corpus slowly dissolving.

Ibis shoots into the room trailing a ribbonesque miasma of grey-white power that crackles audibly with a cold fury and follows her every movement. Lunging past Iron, she makes a wild double handed home-run swing at of the remaining phantom guards. She punctuates it with a stomp that sends reverberations through the room and smashes the stone floor, a furious battle-fire lit in her eyes.

The ghost with the arrow in his shoulder is first--he crumples around the haft of the weapon, not quite falling in two as he crashes into both of his nearby compatriots. They all go sailing, slamming against a far wall. The fourth, on the other side of Iron Soul, blinks a couple of times.

Ibis heaves with the momentum of her strike, wispy trails of moonfire rising from her armour and weapons. She looks pissed.

Platinum Storm raises an eyebrow, examining the man's stance for a moment more. "Ah. The style that excels for those too afraid to move. Dislodge him, Iron Soul!"

Iron Soul quirks his head to the side for a moment, before going to action. He completely ignores the last guard by him, as he stomps right in front of the giant. Iron Soul once again raises his blade yet again. . .and slams it down into the ground right at the massive warrior's feet, digging into the stone. Twisting the sword like a lever. . .

Iron Soul growls and grits his teeth, shoving the entire slab of floor up, with the giant standing on it. As he pushes it up, the dawn lifts up a heavy, greaved leg and slams his boot into the upraised floor, sending it crashing back. ". . .siddown."

His laughter turns to a scream, as the very stone floor beneath him is turned to /gravel/. His feet shift, and fail him. Maybe he should have grown six extra. With a great crash, he falls flat on his back, and a flash of white essence heralds the failure of one of his charms.

Climbing back up, he shouts a series of curses and points at each of the circle members.

Screaming, "ATTACK", he fills the room with crows.

They fly out of his hands in all direction, flying with desperate speed and surrounded by thousands upon thousands of their brothers. The crows fill the room and pour out of the door into the town beyond. In the sky above, they form a cloud even blacker than the ebony stormfront of the Underworld.

Platinum Storm lets out a vexed noise as he starts to spin his staff through the flurry of feathers and beaks and talons. Faster and faster it goes before he lets out a shout, the magical energy of the Sun itself serving as a counterpoint to the dark storm of birds. Then he swings, sending a rippling shockwave of birds towards where their master stands.

And he lashes out, finding it harder than he expected to hit enough of the twisting flying horde simultaniously. He manages it, though, and a great cascade of fallen crows impacts against their master, who deflects the blow with a negligent open palm.

Platinum Storm shouts, “Is this all you've got now, friend? Paltry magic tricks and birds?!“

"THIS IS ALL I NEED, YOU PITIFUL WRETCH!"

Platinum Storm starts to laugh, managing to drown out even the birds.

Ibis levels a finger at the six-armed warrior, which is more impressive than it sounds when you're almost trapped into not moving by virtue of being swamped with crows. "You can summon your birds all you want." she says, smiling creepily. "But they're only imitations."

Ibis draws folds both arms over her head, howling a bone-shattering battlecry that makes the very foundations of the building /rattle/. She arches her back and clenches both hands to fists, her entire body burning with the colours of mercury, of silver, of the pure white snow and the ever-changing flow of the moon. Her shape itself warps, changes, and begins to... grow. A hazy glow conceals her features.

Ibis shines like a beacon of Lunar Fury, her shiloutte growing taller and thicker in the blink of an eye, and a sickening lurch of impossible motion. With a snap, the lightshow is no more, and Ibis the woman is gone. In her place is a towering monstrosity of an avian beast, with forest-green feathers and wicked silver armour, greaves, and pauldrons.

Ibis laughs, and it is a horrible noise, of deep demonic cawing and hopelessness. "Now we will [b]play[/b]."

"One by one I will grind your bones to dust and slake my thirsts upon the paste I have made of your flesh and blood! Come, come and meet my goremaul! Those I do not consume will be made an offering to Oblivion itself!"

Nadira launches a volley of three arrows to pierce the veil of crows by each running through one then a second and a third ... to try to get a better view of the battle below, and pinching a fourth arrow when it is fired so that it exerts all of its energy in a circular spiral, colliding with the birds adjacent to Nadira.

Her arrows fly true, but it is like shooting a waterfall. Knocking one or two birds aside, they fail to affect the stream, some twenty-five birds in total stolen from the air and sent slowly drifting to the ground, bouncing off the still-flying corpses of their brethren.

Iron Soul looks to be forced into a kneeling huddle at first, as the crows swarm and press all around him. A tiny gold light peers out from the black swarm. . .before it explodes in a golden fireball, blazing out from Iron Soul's body.

Iron Soul seems to stand taller than he ever has, as the inferno rises up, and a massive daiklave ominously hangs over head, ready to dip and strike at any moment. Flaming tongues spurt out from the eyeholes in his helmet, as he raises his voice into a massive yell that seems so loud it's almost visible, as it echoes outward, to frighten all enemies to the bone.

Iron Soul focuses his flaming gaze on the giant, as he steps forward, his entire body hazy in the blaze. "Big man, shut the fuck up." Iron Soul leaps forward and drives his blade down, to stab in and through the giant's chest.

”GRAAAAAAAAAAH!” With red, burning rage in his eyes and a daiklave sticking straight. through. his body, the massive ghost ignores the gaping wound in his torso to grab at Iron Soul with six of his eight arms, and shouts curses older than Heaven itself.

Ibis rears down on her gigantic haunches, and gives an ominous, preperatory flap of her feathery wings. A gale-force puff ripples through the room with a domino effect, spilling glasses from tables and upending the lighter bits of furniture that aren't lucky enough to be bolted down. She shoots straight for the roof with a deafening screech, wings clipping a beautiful bone-shod chandelier in the ceiling.

Ibis just happens to 'clip' said chandelier hard enough to rip it from its moorings in the ceiling and hurl it headlong into the far wall, where hazardly flapping tapestries catch alight on the candleflame. Thousands of years of history go up in flames, becoming nothing more than smoking, burning wrecks.

Ibis takes her chance! Amidst all the confusion, the dying birds and the smoke, she rears back and plunges towards the big demon with another buffeting sweep of the wings. And for just one, fleeting moment, as the two clash against the hazy red-orange glow permeating the quickly deteriorating room, it looks like one beast out of hell has come to take the other's place.

They flee. The crows are not even real, they cannot even know fear for they know nothing at all but the word 'ATTACK' seared into their primitive ectoplasmic brains. But they still flee, and who can blame them? Titans greater than the gods do battle, and so the murder of crows flies away from their battle in the middle of the room, away from the danger.

They cannot escape, though, so they form a great gap in the flock, an eye in the storm of swarming, swirling crows rotating about the room in a black hurricane.

ALong the edges, they die as the entire building begins to catch flame, they smoulder and burn and perish, melting into nothing as they fall screaming amongst their brothers. Still, they fly away from the Chosen of the Sun and the Moon, they fly away from the force more powerful than Death.

Ibis descends upon the ghost more like an angry dragon than a falcon. Her lance screams and shrieks with wave upon wave of blinding, pallid flames of silvery, pearl-fire as she collides with the beast so hard the resultant shockwave of impact shatters every glass in the entire building.

The sound of his scream suddenly stops, although he doesn't stop screaming. No, instead, he shouts the silence at the true end of the world, the Oblivion that lies beyond the shallow shadow mere mortals know as Death. Great black tendrils of fell essence erupt from his mouth, a dozen dozen of them each more putrid and powerful than the last. They lash out in time with his arms, as they grasp at Iron Soul and pummel him merciles

Oh, but these black tendrils have a much darker fate planned. Those unlucky enough to fall into the maw at their center will never know such privelege as existence as a ghost. No, they will never even know the blissful forgetfulness of Lethe. Within this terrible nephrack's mouth lies a tiny pinch, a pinprick, a bit of Oblivion smaller than a mote of essence

Iron Soul feels a cold sweat, even amidst his bonfire of golden flame, as he stares down oblivion. With a grunt, he lets go of the handle of his daiklaive and pounds his open palm into it, sending the blade clear through the giant. The force of the hit causes the sword to collide with the wall and deflect upwards, spinning over in an arc.

Iron Soul presses his shield between him and the tendrils, as they literally lift him up in an attempt to grab hold. Iron Soul lifts his feet up to the shield, leaps off it, and catches the spinning daiklave at the apex of his leap. And then. . .he proceeds to drop, with his blade in hand. Iron Soul grins, as he weaves the blade before him.

The ghost's first hand gets turned aside, and his second is chopped right off. Then the third grabs Iron Soul by his head and lifts him five feet off the ground.

The bell within the steeple of the Temple of the Unconquered Sun was enchanted five times. Here are its enchantments. First, its sound can unravel lesser glamours, and those fascinated by the magic of fair folk or even the Exalted are set free. Second, it brings health and vitality to he who rings it, for any man strong enough to bring a sound out of such a strong and stuborn thing deserves good health.

Third, it rings as clearly as the voice of the Unconquered Sun, and nothing can gainsay it, not even the stifling air of the Underworld itself. Fourth, it persists even after death and destruction. Nothing may unmake the bell, and if anything does, it will simply be perfect elsewhere, in some other place far away from its hunters.

Fifth, even the deaf may hear it, and those who do not wish to hear its ring hear it loudest.

The ring of the bell of the Unconquered Sun, despite all these grand enchantments, does not ring as loudly and clearly as Iron Soul now does, with a grand goremaul slamming against his prone torso, wielded by three unearthly hands.

Iron Soul is held up and hammered at like a rag doll, yet he grits his teeth and holds on. His hands grip onto the handle of his blade, and he stares the monster in the eyes as the blows rain down, barely flinching, his mind going back to a time when he'd been put under worse. Much worse than this. This. . .was nothing to him. Iron Soul's mind pushed the hits away like a distant thing, and waited. His chance would come to return the favor

Iron Soul 's torn and battered armor hangs off him in shambles, revealing the burned and scarred skin underneath. Held up by his head, his body hanging like a doll, his helmet cracking under the pressure, a word comes forth from inside the helmet. Ketrus/Weak/."

Ibis leaps backwards with a gigantic flap of her wings, hurling books and scrolls off of tables and shelves from the force. She lands behind a table, which has seen much better days, as it nearly falls over in her wake.

Platinum Storm lets the faintest of smirks appear on his face as the tendrils make for him. Fire of both essence and candleflame rages around him as he begins to spin his staff again once more, both starting to swirl as he speaks in Old Realm. "You are out matched, out manuvered, and hang to this miserable half life of yours by a frayed thread."

Whirling and whirling it goes, glass shards caught up in the whirling of metal and flame and essence. Then his staff is a flurry of motion, faster than the Exalted eye can track. As the circle remains more essence and flame follows the movements, carving a simple script in the language of a past Age. When ghosts and spirits knew their proper place, subervient to those gifted by the Unconquered Sun and Luna.

A final stroke of a staff end, the sigil completed as he bellows it's meaning in the same language. "JUDGEMENT!" Then he's moving, leaving behind multiple afterimages that run alongside him, darting and swapping places with each other, letting only shadows be struck by those that would bring him into Oblivion.

The sigil and circle remaining in front of him as essence flows into the fully seperated staff. A flurry of strikes as he passes, each accompanied by an arc of the storm of his anima. Skidding to a halt on the other side, he whirls about, staff rigid once again as the sigil is seared onto the ghost before he speaks again, in a voice infinitely softer than before. "Is passed."

"SILENCE!" screams the beaten, bleeding ghost, "SILENCE! I WILL BE THE END OF YOU!" He draws his arms back to strike again with his jade grand goremaul, but black essence grabs at his arms, tendrils coming from his own wailing mouth. THey betray him and stop his blows, and while they reach for Iron Soul as well, they only manage to hold off the larger man's wrath for a scant few seconds, budging neither of the massive warriors.

Platinum Storm just begins to laugh as one set of tendrils suddenly are not [i]there[/i], letting the Lunar free while Iron is held only by a thread. A spin of the staff as a few remaining pieces are flicked from the suddenly essence sharpen staff edge. And of course, the burning mark left in the creature's back. "You enjoy listening to your own bark too much, dog."

Nadira bursts through the maelstrom that the crows in the room have become, digging her heels into the unfortunate crows beneath her and leaning back, hands briefly glowing with the fire of the Unconquered Sun. She fires off a volley of three arrows tipped with the faint glimmer of unnatural light at the former dragon-blooded, two to compliment his torso wound and the third for good measure to the back of the neck while surfing the crows around the room in a circular motion.

When the first arrow hits, he screams and turns his head at the latest annoyance. When the second arrow hits, his wounds start catching up with him and he drops the battered Iron Soul, stepping backwards in pain. Then the third hits, and for the first time in three hundred years the ancient ghost knows unconciousness. It is the last thing he will ever know.

The black tendrils emerging from his own mouth swarm over his limbs and pull at them, dismembering him piece by piece. The ghostly arms and legs are then pulled into the maw, seated in the man's own mouth, and utterly annihlated.

As if in a feeding frenzy, the tendrils lash at his torso with redoubled fury, those that survived their attacks on the Exalted around them returning to the man's body to tear it apart. They ravage what is left, until there is nothing but a head.

His head opens its eyes then, but there is nothing inside but a shimmering void, an inky blackness that expands outward from within, and consumes him entirely. Then it, and the tendrils vanish. Nothing is left, but the almost silent sound of a small, soulsteel key hitting the ground with a plink and a mournful shriek.

All around them, crows begin to die and dissolve, painting the burned and ruined walls black and red. Nadira is left to ride the disintigrating storm straight to the ground. Suddenly, the ruined room with its broken tables, spilt food and burnt tapestries... is very, very lonely.

There is the sound of breathing.

Nadira kicks off a wall in the corner and slides down the adjourning wall to the ground, then heads over toward the center of the room. "So ... is everyone alright?"

Ibis is enshrouded in a bonfire of silvery-white light, and shrinks back into a green-haired, gold-eyed human girl. She slumps onto her spear, trying to hold herself up, but not quite getting the hang of it.

Iron Soul staggers backward and bumps into a wall, pieces of metal still falling off his scarred body. He holds his hands to his helmet, to make sure it's still secure enough to cover him. ". . .that was an experience."

Platinum Storm remains in his battle stance for a couple of moments before finally relaxing, serious expression fading as the staff is lowered, tip touching the ground. "You alright there, Iron Soul?" He doesn't seem to mind the fact a whirling storm of white gold is flowing around him, of course. He steps forward to pick up the key. "That was... one hell of a fight, pardon the pun."

Iron Soul pats himself over. Despite the evidence of past burns, cuts, scrapes, lashings, and other things you can't determine, he doesn't seem to have a single /current/ scratch on him. "I'll be fine. Let's just get this over with."

Iron Soul walks over and picks his daiklave and shield up from the ravaged floor.

Ibis grabs clumsily at her cloak and tries to wind it around her, but it's too much of a torn, burnt, and tattered wreck. She throws it aside, leaving her moonsilver tattoos and magical armour obvious as anything. "Someone get moving and find that ghost--I don't want to see if anyone comes looking for us, or it, or him..."

Platinum Storm strides towards the other exit, nodding. "Good idea."

Nadira nods. "Getting out of here as soon as possible..."

The door's locked. The soulsteel key doesn't work.

Platinum Storm suddenly spins around and smashes his staff against the door.

It folds like a lawn chair, splintering into half a dozen pieces and crashing inward. There's nothing inside, but a single, strange little package.

It's a woman, an old woman far beyond the end of her years. She is wrinkled and emaciated, and also quite nauseatingly naked, folded and bent in unnatural ways until her body is contorted--most likely very painfully--into a cube.

This cube is bound with thin, wailing wires of soulsteel that bite into her flesh but do not quite draw blood. At the center of the near surface of this strange cube is a soulsteel lock, with a very obvious purpose.

Platinum Storm steps forward, leaving behind wisps of white light as he crouches to attempt to unlock the ghost's prison.

Iron Soul leans against the door frame, panting slightly, as his anima still blazes around him. He still holds his sword up, ready for the unexpected.

There's a click, and a wish, then a blinding white light. When he can see again, it is to a vision of unfolding glory just barely beyond the wildest reaches of his imagination. The woman unfolds and... melts away, into a beautiful ghost every bit the opposite of the one just slain.

She is tall but slim, wearing a gown quite visibly woven of hopes and dreams that floats three feet above the floor, an inch above her hovering feet. In her arms she carries a spear of adamant, its tip formed of living wood that seems to grow into shape and wilt away at the same time, raining slivers of leaf and bark.

Ibis is on the way over, just as the ghost makes her presence known. She looks, well, impressed.

Her hair is a golden wave that splits into six flowing rivers, each reaching out into a different direction and ending in a clear, crystaline shell. Ice, ice colder than the farthest reaches of the north mists and hums and rages against all warmth, in the shape of six shields held in position to parry.

She is more lovely than even Nadira, all six of her eyes still closed. She speaks, and it is as if an autumn sunset had come after a tiring day. It nearly lulls one to sleep with its beauty, whispering, "Where are the punk-ass bitches that did this to me?"

Session End

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