|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2010 7:55 am
Her pace matched that of Saiph's and she leaned even closer to hear that whisper, urgent and static against her ear. She had a point, no, several; every factoid that left her lips were thoughts that Alcyone carried on her own. Where were they indeed? Had they been in Destiny City there would have been official policemen teaming in to inspect the dead, to track down the calm killer whose bloodied foot prints paired with hers, albeit larger. "I don't know." Was her worried response, "And to top it all off we can't use our powers. We are not in our world."
She was hushed as Dude and Abigail passed by, and it was then that she wondered how the two knew each other. Aside from Tony, every face around her were unfamiliar and new, and even with the librarian, he was a figure that she only saw on certain weeknights and the occasional swamped weekend. On second thought, the larger man did seem familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place where, and while she turned to see the two behind her her memory did not jolt with recognition. "Does he look familiar to you?" She whispered to Saiph.
When their leading man paused to observe what was written on the walls, moved beside him to also inspect the reliefs and lend more light.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2010 9:36 am
For a moment, Saiph was grateful that she and Alcyone were so near in height. It made talking and whispering so much easier. She felt herself grow cold for a moment as Alcyone mentioned not being able to use their powers. She hadn't even realized it before. But a quick attempt to summon the familiar rushing feeling of a Tail Thrash soon proved Alcyone correct. For a brief, crushing moment, Saiph felt completely helpless. Then, common sense reasserted herself. She had armed herself to the best of her ability. She could fight reasonably well. She'd manage. Still, the lack of power was a blow to her morale.
And so it was that Alcyone's next question came as something of a welcome distraction. She watched Dude and Abigail hurry by and thought for a few moments. Finally, she shrugged.
"He does. But I can't place him yet and it's driving me crazy a little."
And while she wanted to keep watching Dude while he was busy, she also did not want to get caught staring. So she turned and gave her attention over to inspect the reliefs.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2010 3:21 pm
At Dude's unexpectedly terse reply to his question, Ian shyly settled on shutting up for the time being, and continued walking in silence. Dude and Nemesis seemed best left mutually irritating each other, it seemed, at least for the moment. And he allowed the purple-haired man to fall to the back of the group, moving himself closer to the front where Mister Darrow was pausing to look at the inscriptions.
Offering the light of his torch to the other adult, Ian glanced briefly over the writing, but figured instead that, since he was hardly the most knowledgeable on French and ... Latin or whatever, instead turned his own attention to the reliefs. He had a much easier time figuring out pictures. Or at least he hoped he would.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2010 3:26 pm
The atmosphere of their present location was finally affecting them all. Sirona's mother had often scolded her for her obsession with horror flicks; they weren't good for ones' health nor wallet. It did not astonish the female that she was completely correct. Her mind poured out dozens of scenarios per second. And the worst; if it was just a game.
Her optimistic side refused to kick in this time around. A hallway began to form around the group as they entered, the brazier blending into past scenery. The torches were now the only, and scarce source of light. There were reliefs on the walls, which was a time machine in itself. However, she did not seek to inspect it, instead focused on the three words that lay in front of the group, carved into the floor.
Sirona thanked Anthony for the translation. Rest in peace? "How morbid." she replied. It would have made sense for the text to be scripted back where the catacombs were, but they had not. She clutched clumsily at the beads in her hair. They had always been her good luck charms, a haven of reassurance. Even now, they offered a beam of hope. They'd get out, they'd have to.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2010 10:12 pm
To those who inspected the reliefs:
The reliefs were what was known as alto-relievo, or raised from their stone base, and there were six of them in all, which, each and in turn, depicted:
- A hard-eyed, fierce-looking young knight slaying a truly horrific-looking dragon;
- The knight duelling another armored knight, the other's face hidden by his bulky, spiked armor;
- The knight kneeling at the feet of a tall woman in a long bliaut, but with his face turned up to her in steady defiance -- her hair trailing on the ground behind her -- a man in sumptuous regal robes next to her;
- The knight, now older and sporting a coronet of his own, sitting on a chair in judgment of an apparent trial with his hand raised over a manacled man and a look of grim decision on his face;
- The crowned knight, holding a sword over the neck of a soldier in uniform and helmet -- a deserter, by the array of similar soldiers next to him;
- The knight, old and bearded, floating in his casket down a river strewn with flowers -- his eyes open.
To those who examined the inscriptions:
The one under their feet was engraved -- no, not engraved. The letters had been carved out of the stone and luminous milky marble had been set in in the shapes of the letters. REQUIESCANT IN PACE, they read again.
Then, further along the floor, beneath the bloody footprints and in larger letters: REQUIESCANT IN PACE
And beyond that, spaced out evenly and finally: REQUIESCANT IN PACE
The ones on the walls were in fact carved in relief on the granite walls, smooth and cold to the touch, and spaced below and between the panels of alto-relievo carving. There were six of them in all, three on either wall of the hallway, and in order they read, facing each other:
I WALK IN LIGHT - I DIE IN DARKNESS
I WALK IN WISDOM - I DIE IN IGNORANCE
I WALK IN HONOR - I DIE ENTOMBED
To that brave and lonely souls who looked behind them:
There was no light coming from behind Charonite; the brazier had gone out, on first thought.
On second thought --
Yes, on second thought --
The end of the hallway was lit by that same shimmering supernatural light he'd seen before at the edges of the cavernous room, and it was lit well enough that he could see what he was looking at.
He was looking at a face.
A face at the end of the hallway -- a huge face, a pale, unmoving face that filled the entire archway like a wall that had been there all along, stony, unmoving and sealing them off from the chamber they'd had before. It was the face of one of the statues, the colossal granite statues that had lined the walls and guarded the brazier in the hall before. But there had been no sound, no lumbering crunch of stone, nothing that could suggest anything falling or moving: just the face of the statue, with its pale green marble eyes.
Did they press on into the darkness, their torches flickering low and about to go out, or use items from their inventory?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 3:38 am
Charonite had gone very still. Then he said, "Goddamn this place," which was the only hint at all that for a moment he had been taken aback or worried or even -- dare anyone say it -- scared; it seemed difficult to scare the broad-shouldered, grim-mouthed man they knew as 'Dude,' but when he jerked his head back to look at the others they could see that he was jarred. He had not heard Alcyone and Saiph talking to each other. He was still as unfamiliarly familiar as ever.
"Magic," he just said gruffly. "We can't go back."
He still seemed a little rattled, and his eyes fell on Nemesis. "You want please? 'Please' let us find more light." He was taking off his cloak and, one fist wrapped in the old dry cloth, was rubbing it carefully at the pitch at the end of his torch to try to encourage the flame -- to set the cloth alight, it seemed, using it as a wick.
"We can't stay here," said Dude, and he was addressing all of them now. One hand on Zanazziite's shoulder, he pushed her on gently. Away from the face. Away from that face. "Our light's going. Darrow, you see anything helpful?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 7:39 am
Nemesis glanced away from the reliefs and back to Dude when she heard him curse. It didn't surprise her that he had sworn, and for a few moments she stood almost casually, as if she felt comfortable in this place. The edges of her lips were soon tugging down in that frown again, arms moving to fold over her chest anxiously as she realized that Dude was not exactly calm himself. "s**t," she said softly to herself.
They couldn't go back?
Well, that meant they had to go forward. If this place wanted them to go one way over another, it seemed pretty damned clear that they would have to do it, whether they realized it sooner over later. That, and Nemesis needed to find Damon still, so in the end she would always go forward. She'd likely be the first to do it if others hesitated. "That didn't sound sincere," she chastised him, though it was really only to make herself feel better about the situation.
If she could still find the time to pick on someone, that meant she was okay. Nemesis, right now, thought that being 'okay' was the best that she was going to get. "We go forward, then," she urged, but hesitated for a moment. Dude had taken her torch, and she wanted it back. The look she gave him said she wanted her goddamn torch back. The light was comforting in this place, and she didn't want to go ahead without the little that she had.
"The reliefs, I am guessing, are just someone's life story. Life, death, death, death. Let's go," it wasn't the most accurate of summaries, but she honestly did not think that anything in this place was useful.
She didn't want to go alone, she realized. She could preach that she did many times over to the Dream Team, she had before claimed that she was better off doing things on her own. But... this time it just didn't seem like the brightest idea to try and tackle this place on her own. It was why she waited for a few moments, because if anyone else was going it would give them time to come to the decision. "Whatever," she grunted softly, and pressed forward, convinced that it was their only real option. There was no point in standing here any longer.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 8:54 am
Tony almost didn't hear Dude, his eyes on the reliefs first, before falling to the inscriptions. Feeling silly with himself for considering both part of the same image, finding now that they weren't related, he continued to examine them regardless of the 'mix up'. The scenes were familiar and yet completely mystifying, as he had no idea of their direct context, if they had any, and yet had seen or read similar stories many times over from his collection of books.
He ran his hand over the knight, the dragon, and the other scenes he was moving very slowly down, examining carefully as he went. It was, for a moment, like he was a kid in a candy store, his face fixed on the images and his eyes bright with wonder and fascination. But he moved on, looking at the words, seeing just the 'I Walk' series at first. He turned his head and then had to move across the hall to read the 'I Die'. He read them out loud, for the group to hear perhaps, or just to fill the relative quiet.
Of course, their torches were dimming and they had to get out of this place.
Snapping out of it, he looked around and spotted Nemesis. Had Dude said something about magic? They couldn't go back? Still, that was no reason to go charging off, even if her less than romantic summation of the images in the wall was correct. And anyway, the two were still bickering at each other, so he wondered if Nemesis was just acting brash to get Dude's attention, as younger people were wont to do around people they had 'crushes' on.
Gripping his helmet under his arm, as if ready to put it on at a moment's notice, just in case, he followed slowly after Nemesis, looking back at the others.
"If we can't go back we have to press on: there's no point staying in one place. Just be careful," he added uselessly. He knew everyone was in the same place as he was, and imagined no one was planning anything incredible brash or reckless. Save maybe Nemesis in her search for Damon, but Tony would keep an eye on her. So he followed her, and pressed on in the darkness, though he waited for Ian, who had been close by anyway, acting as Tony's light source for the inscriptions, and Abigail, always wanting to make sure of their location before he moved. He couldn't help but worry about his little team.
He didn't have anything that he might use as a torch, but he wondered if Abigail and Ian could revive the one they had brought with them somehow. He knew she had oil with her, from Benedictus' office, but he still didn't know what it was.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 12:11 pm
Zanazziite gulped at the stone face she was confronted with. That was a bit scary. She plucked Rufus from her shoulder again, cradling him against her chest. It made her feel a little better, though she would've loved to have a big dog at her side. Or maybe a bear, a bear would make a great protector.
When Charonite mentioned magic she almost opened her mouth to ask if there was magic why then wasn't theirs working? But she caught herself at the last moment. Her General-King would be very upset with her if she outed them. So instead she was quiet, until she noticed what he was doing. "Oh! I have oil!" She felt the push of Charonite's hand and automatically moved forwards, but at the same time she moved Rufus up to her free shoulder then grabbed the flask out of her dress. "Oil is flammable right? Maybe we could use it to keep the torches going." She glanced back at Charonite as they walked, and then ahead to Mr. Darrow, it could work right? She was looking for validation on either of the adult's faces.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 1:02 pm
With gentle fingertips, Saiph traced each image as she studied them. As far as she could tell, it was a little like some pictures of egyptian hieroglyphics she'd seen once in a book. The pictures were just telling the story of a man's life. Two images in particular snared her attention. The dragon and the last image of the dead man with wide open eyes.
Saiph wracked her brain for all the dragon legends she'd ever heard of. Somehow, St. George and the Dragon didn't seem to fit this particular tile. And she was also pretty certain that most people tried to shut the eyes of their dead. Not leave them open like that. It was damn creepy, actually. Shivering a little, she turned from the images and began to follow Mr. Darrow. Turning slightly she saw "Dude" wrapped a cloth around his fist and trying to light it. With a small sigh, she moved a little closer to him before tapping him on the arm and holding out her firepoker.
"No sense in risking a burn or immolation. Wrap it around this. Gives you a handle and weapon in one when and if the cloth burns away."
With a curt nod, she turned and slung her chain across her shoulder, holding on to each end as she went back to Alcyone's side.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 2:15 pm
It was here, in this very moment that Alcyone wished she could remember her parents' stories of hieroglyphs and myths. While it was doubtful that any of the legends they've spoken of would match what was inscribed before her, she was sure even the smallest amount of knowledge could help her understand the carvings further. They read much like a storyboard, with a typical knight's tale: fending off a dragon, battling with the community dark knight, winning the heart of the princess and becoming king himself. A king whose lives rested in his hands, and in the end...
She shivered. It was more than a little creepy to see the carved figure's eyes wide open, even in death. She wasn't sure if she knew of any cultures off hand that didn't close the eyes of their dead, and it made her wonder if the depicted knight king was even dead at all as he floated to his end. Did his people do this? The floor seemed to agree, as aggressive type repeated itself the further down the hallway they stepped.
At Dude's cursing, she turned and her eyes widened immediately in shock. Their entrance was blocked with the face of a king that had until now been much farther away, much higher up. "How..?" She started, but she didn't bother to finish. It was clear that everyone knew about as much as she did. At Nemesis' beckoning, she gripped on her iron poker for security and aided her need for light by thrusting the torch forward. If there was one thing she hasn't regretted so far, it was keeping the torch for herself. "I'll help light the way forward," Alcyone told her as she pressed on besides the senshi of decay.
She felt a little more at ease when Saiph joined her, though nothing will calm her more than getting out. She hoped this hallway led to their safety, and not in peril as the bloody-foot steps continue to follow them along.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 2:38 pm
The text seemed to echo itself, further and further. Ji-Yeon had sparse knowledge on symbolism, but this was straight-forward, and made her feel rather sick. On the walls were similar text. The first halves were gallant and brought up the image of proud, teary-eyed parts.
However, their counterparts were not. Indeed, they were polar opposites-- and the distance between them reiterated that point. Tony's voice echoed in the hallway, and hearing him repeat the words did little to quell Sirona's abundant fear.
And then she saw the head. It took all of her courage to suppress a gasp. Hooray, yet another dismal symbol to add on her list. Sirona watched as some tried to ignite their torches, which was good-- because her light (both literally and figuratively) was beginning to go out. In her right hand was a trembling torch, in the left, the iron fire poker Saiph had given her.
Sirona was thankful for the self-defense weapon now, although she had no want in using it. She responded to Alcyone's move, "I'll light the back." The others needed light, no matter how dim it was. She wanted to get out, away from the depictions of death, and further from the prying eyes of the stone head. With that, Sirona continued on, following Alcyone and Nemesis closely behind.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 3:10 pm
Ian mulled over Dude's words momentarily, as though trying to decide whether or not being unable to go back bothered him. He settled on it being at worst neutral, especially with all those bodies back there. Perhaps a good thing that he could not see the face past all of the other people in the hallway.
The relief carvings held his attention then, and he moved slowly to take in the scenes ... all apparently from the life of the same man? Then he returned to Mister Darrow's side, brows drawing together as the librarian read the inscriptions aloud.
His torch guttered then, issuing a soft but sudden crackle that made him tense. Instinctively, he shook it up and down slightly, maybe just for something to do, since that sort of thing worked on torches in the British sense only. They would need more light soon, though. He had no extra clothing to offer to the fading flame, but he did perk up as Abigail mentioned the flask of oil.
But something about the words Mister Darrow had read tickled at the back of his mind. Did they somehow mean they were supposed to let the lights go out? ... Unless walking in darkness meant they would die in light, but at least the stones did not explicitly say that.
"Well, I guess it'd be sort of dangerous to pour the oil straight onto this while it's still burning," he said quietly, partly to himself and partly to Abigail. And then he hurried a few steps to catch up to Mister Darrow, continuing ahead for the moment. He still had light for the moment, and then one of the others could take over with a fresh torch while he got his relit.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 10:45 pm
It was Zanazziite's memory that saved them all in the end -- the wind picked up, but when all the torches were safely doused with the oil from the flask they flared up hotter and brighter. They continued on through the hallway, now better-lit: they could see that the footprints continued on in the same steady onward stride. Rufus didn't seem to like this place any better than Abigail did; he clung to her shoulder with tiny feet and kept casting little wide-rat-eyed glances back behind them.
The hallway branched into a small chapel of white marble, in which were five elaborate, ice-pale reliefs, unnamed by any inscriptions:
- In the center, a beautiful woman with a crown and long, braided hair: the woman depicted in one of the previous reliefs.
- Below her, three smaller reliefs of three other women.
- Above her, a woman sitting on a rock in front of a large body of water, naked and styling her copious hair as she looked down at the four other reliefs.
The footprints led up to the white wall that held the reliefs, and then, abruptly, stopped -- and vanished. There was no sign of a person, living or dead, and the only other mark their predecessor had left was his bloody handprint, which was dried.
The other walls were blank.
They were at a dead end. They were trapped, alone, and without a soul in the world to help them -- if they were trapped too long, their torches would devour the remaining air they had in this enclosed chamber. If that was the only pendulum that time had sent swinging down on them. If they could assume that at all.
Before them lay only an array of pictures, all unfamiliar. If only any of them knew more about these people or this place.
[Your time in this place is limited. In your collective inventory is:
- the black knight's helmet (Anthony);
- the last words of Johannes Benedictus (Anthony);
- a map of the Camelot city dungeon (Anthony);
- a rat, newly christened Rufus (Zanazziite);
- a flask of lantern oil (Zanazziite);
- several branding rods and firepokers, sharp in places (Saiph, Sirona, and Alcyone);
- the journal of Warin Cartwright (Charonite);
- one cloak (Charonite);
- a set of lockpicks (Charonite)
In addition, you also have yourselves, your clothing, and your environment.
During this turn you may use or attempt to use your inventory however you please, or choose to investigate them further, and/or confer with your compatriots. This is an open-ended turn. If you're not sure whether you'd be able to take an action, PM me and ask. In addition, if you'd like to coordinate with your fellow players to make your actions more efficient (ie asking MMP if Zanazziite would pass the rat to Ian so that you can write, "Ian asked Zanaziiite for Rufus, and..." rather than wasting a turn on the asking), feel free to PM or otherwise contact them!]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 09, 2010 3:02 am
She was glad that others had decided to come with her. She event sent Alcyone a briefly pleasant expression, a little bit of gratitude shining upon her features for the light. "I am being careful," she had shot out to Tony quickly as she made her way down the hall and into the next room.
They were trapped.
Nemesis had followed the bloody trail of footprints until they... abruptly stopped. Well, they had to stop at some point, but she expected to find someone there, some sort of momentous clue that would tell them where to go next. But, no, she was greeted with a white wall, and more reliefs that did ******** nothing for them. "********," she announced suddenly to the group, "We're stuck." Well, wasn't she Captain Obvious all of the sudden? She was, and if someone told her as much she would tell them to 'suck it'.
"There has to be a way through," she was talking to herself aloud now (perhaps she had picked it up from Dude, he certainly had mumbled to himself a few times when they first met) and making her way back to the group. There had to be a clue as to how to get through. There had to be a secret passageway. The ******** murderer got through, so they had to be able to as well.
Her gaze locked on Dude for a few painstakingly long seconds, and then a few seconds longer even. Decisively she paced towards, bursting his personal space bubble that she knew was probably up. "Give me that," she didn't specify what, or really even give him time before she reached for his belt and plucked free the journal of Warin Cartwright.
The expression upon her face said a lot in that moment, like, Oh my god I just touched him.
"Torch," she grumbled loud enough for him to hear, wanting some light as she flipped the journal open. Maybe, just maybe, there was a clue in here.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
