The Eye of Anubis: Book One

[DocBeard]

Huh, Tomas thinks to himself, I thought she didn't remember the fellow.

"Has anyone identified the victim?" Tomas asks, crossing his arms again and biting his bottom lip. "That might help us verify if the fellow was really an explorer, or just some unfortunate these brutes decided to use."

[Nathan of the FoS]

Benoit watched them leave. Loup was taking the opportunity to get a good ear-scratching from Kuzan. Turning to the others, Benoit spoke.

"Loup is a good tracker, but I need a scent, and with all the rain, it'd be tricky. What exactly do you want me to set him on? The cigar ash?"

"You might try it, I suppose, but something with that strong a smell might not be ideal. I think...h'm." Raising his voice, he calls, "Professor Carter, could you bring the splinter back, please? That's at least as likely to be useful," he continues, speaking now to Benoit. "I found my dagger over there, not far from the eaves, and it seems likely that the ankh and the other dagger should have fallen fairly near the same place, being all of a similar size and weight and all falling from nearly the same place on the roof. So--let's give Loup the scents of the cigar and the splinter, then begin our search at the point where the dagger I succeeded in finding fell, working outward from there. Ah, Professor Carter," he says as the academic returns. "Could you please introduce Loup to our find? It might have a scent that will be useful to us."

Carter does so, then asks, "Finished? Is there anything else you want it for?"

"No...I suppose one of our arcane experts will be able to get more from it than any of us," Charles says. "Thank you very much, and good hunting, Professor Carter, Professor Devereux."

"Very well," Carter replies, and he and Devereux depart again.

"All right," Charles says. "Let's see if the rain has left us anything."

[NeoTiamat]

The Search Party

"One at a time, so as not to confuse him with different smells." Benoit said. "Try the splinter first, that smell is likely to be weaker, it'll disappear first in the rain."

Loup took a few long sniffs of the splinter, then sneezed. He shot Benoit a mournful look. Somehow, despite not saying a word, the dog was more expressive than many people.

"Come on, Loup, Such! Such!" Benoit pointed to the spot Charles had indicated for the missing dagger. Loup's entire manner changed, taking on an intent look as he stepped forward.

The Alsatian tracked across half the garden, then stopped. The grass here was cut up slightly, and the ground disturbed, as though a dagger had fallen blade first here. You paused briefly, but then Loup moved on again.

The wolf-dog hybrid's next stop was at a corner of the walkway, not too far from where Charle's had found the splinter. Then Loup stepped forward again, but suddenly stopped. The dog sniffed the air, even going so far as to backtrack a little, but then sat down, sending a very confused look to the searchers.

"He's lost the trail." Benoit said, long-experienced in matters of canine-interpretation. "Now what?"

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Inside

Lily was taking all of this down on her notebook. For a moment, she spoke up, pointing the pencil towards Andre.

"A co-opted cult? And where does the illusion magic come into play?"

Meanwhile, Samael spoke up.

"I spoke with the inspector. The poor sap who got tossed through the window was a river-boatman, a Pierre LeGerre, has a petty criminal record but nothing more than that, worked on barges that sail up and down the Musarde."

[Nathan of the FoS]

The wolf-dog hybrid's next stop was at a corner of the walkway, not too far from where Charle's had found the splinter. Then Loup stepped forward again, but suddenly stopped. The dog sniffed the air, even going so far as to backtrack a little, but then sat down, sending a very confused look to the searchers.

"He's lost the trail." Benoit said, long-experienced in matters of canine-interpretation. "Now what?"

"Perhaps our friend took to the air here?" Charles wonders out loud. "I suppose it's too much to ask of Loup to help us further, if that's the case. It would seem plausible to say my dagger fell there," pointing to the spot where the evidence of a blade in the grass had been found, "and the ankh...near here, perhaps? But if Loup cannot find the trail I doubt any of the rest of us have a chance. The cigar next, I suppose, and if we've no luck there we had better get out of the rain and consider what we've learned." Here Charles gestures vaguely to the broken window, where the voices of gendarmerie and expedition members can be heard discussing the body and recent events.

[The Whistler]

Otto had accepted the brandy bottle and glasses from Devereux when the professor had brought them over, and had busied himself with pouring out shots for whoever was interested--greeting Charles and Khalil upon their return--as the clot of people in the garden transitioned from a post-battle recovery group to a search party. Though a bit nonplussed that the night was taking this additional turn (Sure is a lucky chance that there're still leads for us to follow), he hung back while the cryptography student lead the team.

This guy really does seem to know what he's doing...I mean, you've been on hunts before, but nothing this significant; don't want to step on his toes. Not like you have to go charging off to the rescue or anything, this time--no way you can keep up that high a level of intensity twice in a night, anyway.

Still, wish I had a gun on me.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"A rather disturbing thought comes to mind," Lia suddenly pipes up. "Here we have an opponent who seemed to turn into sand once his unholy symbol was removed, his spellcasting at the least severely curtailed."
Lia starts to pace around the table, head bowed in thought. "What if his whole body was sand, what part of that sand was the sentient core? Is that core small enough to flit away on the wind and return to plague us later? Is this entity of sand its own 'man', for lack of a better turn, or the agent of another? The illusion magic on the roof may have been meant to make this sand cleric look humanoid enough to fool our senses."
Lia pauses, then coughs in an embarrassed manner. "It is ... just a thought," she finishes lamely.

[yalenusveler]

Andre looked towards Lia, a bit of suprise showing on his face. "Not...exactly the track I would take, but nonetheless a terrifying possibility. And it would to some extent, make sense. Though I caution against letting your imagination run wild, that sort of unconventional thinking could eventually save our lives. High Marks, miss, High Marks."

He actually smiled a bit, then turned back to Lily "Rumor has it that a group of Werejackals has set up some sort of profaned cult to Anubis. The illusion magic, I do not know...perhaps to hide his hybrid form, or perhaps something more sinister." Andre sighed, then turned towards Samael "And yet again, we're given information that merely makes things more perplexing."

[Kaitou Kage]

Once the hubbub of the battle and post-battle healing died down, Kuzan took a deep, steadying breath. The healing was nothing he couldn't handle, but the sudden attack threw him off-guard just a bit. Why would they attack the gathering? And one as big as that?

The obvious answer was that this Cult of Anubis didn't want the expedition to succeed. But Kuzan figured everyone had already guessed that much.

"I wonder if they're afraid of the expedition," the priest mused aloud to himself, "It's almost like they think we'll succeed where others haven't. I wonder if that creature would've even fought if we hadn't chased it."

It was just speculation, but it made him feel a bit better guessing their obscure enemy's motives.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Did it not attack despite being offered a chance to surrender peacefully?" Lia replies, gesturing with her wineglass. "And by all indications, it was determined enough to kill, being implied as it is in the death of that poor man used as a dead carrier pidgeon."
With a shake of her head, Lia starts to pace around the table again. "I wonder," she muses out loud. "This Mr. LeGerre ... How would he even be in a position to know anything about the tomb of Menetnashte?"
Abruptly, her voice turns cold and sharp. "Al-Muharin. Did he come to Dementlieu up the Musarde? Has he been spreading tales about Menetnashte's sepulchre all the way from the Amber Wastes? If so, and if there is some organized effort to protect the tomb from intruders that is willing to kill, this will not be the last corpse we see. Nor the last resistance we meet, I fear."
Lia's eyes narrow dangerously behind her mask. "Where is al-Muharin?"

[NeoTiamat]

The Search Party

Loup sniffed the cigar a bit, then promptly bounded off inside, pausing only at the door to look back over his shoulder, asking plainly 'well, what are you slowpokes waiting for?' then heading off inside.

The dog pushed his way through the pair of Gendarmes at the door, and into the Auditorium where Lord Balfour de Casteelle had given his speech early in the evening, what seemed to be weeks ago. The Gendarmerie were taking statements from the party-goers.

The Alsatian started to jump around a large, fat man with a monocle and a cigar, clad in a frock coat. The man cast a disdainful look at the bounding canine, and then at the entering search party.

"Professor Smythe, Department of Dementlieuse Literature." The man introduced himself coldly. "Will someone control this...animal?"

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Inside

Samael's head whipped up from where he had been pacing around the table at Lia's words.

"You know, that almost makes sense. The Musarde is the best way of reaching Port-a-Lucine from Hazlan." The Borcan looked around the room, eyes stopping at the pair of Dieter and Jervis entering through the far doors. "Hey, you two, find Al-Muharin and tell him we'd like to chat with him."

Dieter nodded across the room, then the two left as Samael began to pace again. He seemed compulsively unable to sit still.

"So let's see, we have sand clerics, werejackals, anyone have any other insurance against me ever getting a good night's sleep again?" Samael's voice was sardonic. "Oh, right, sharp-toothed undead. How could I forget..."

"They're not paying me enough." The Borcan sighed mournfully as Dieter and Jervis returned, the nervous Akiri between them. In fairness, anyone would be nervous standing next to Jervis. "Ah, Fassahd, can you answer me a question, hmm? There's a good chap. Had you told anyone else about Menetnashte's Tomb?"

Fassahd looked around the table, a slight tic in his cheek as the pathologically twitchy Akiri strained his memory.

"No sir... not until the honored Prof. Devereux." There was a look of fear in Fassahd's eyes. "Is.. is the Avatar of Anubis gone?"

[OOC: Sense Motive Check please]

[Nathan of the FoS]

"Professor Smythe, Department of Dementlieuse Literature." The man introduced himself coldly. "Will someone control this...animal?"

"But of course, Professor!" Charles says, smiling broadly. "Charles Martel, fellow at the Ecole de Etudes Superiores. This is Loup. Down, Loup! Guy, if you would be so kind. We're very glad to see you, Professor Smythe; it seems you have information that may be of use to us! Tell me, what were you doing in the garden this evening? Did you see anything...unusual?"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Lia goes to stand against one of the walls, leaning back casually. Her eyes never leave al-Muharin, however.
'Shifty, twitchy little weasel,' she thinks to herself. 'Are you telling the truth or lying? I'd swear you are being honest ... Better keep quiet while the others question him -- and hope the gendarmerie don't get upset because we're meddling in their investigation, later on.'

[The Whistler]

We're very glad to see you, Professor Smythe; it seems you have information that may be of use to us! Tell me, what were you doing in the garden this evening? Did you see anything...unusual?"

A Lit professor? Odd...as a field, I wouldn't peg the humanities for producing murder suspects.

...Then again, how many humanities classes have you actually *taken* since enrolling?

Good point. Hope this Smythe fellow isn't too put off by seeing a purposeful-looking crowd standing around a few feet behind the guy he's talking to... Looks like Charles has things under control, though.

Otto hung back and listened, trying--and mostly succeeding--to look casual.

[NeoTiamat]

The Search Party

Loup completely ignored Charles, jumping around the increasingly irritated Professor Smythe until a sharp Platz got him under control. The Alsatian trotted back to his master and sat down, looked very pleased with himself, his long-furred tail wagging slightly.

Prof. Smythe gazed at the gathering with distaste, then returned his eyes to Charles. He considered briefly, then apparently decided that the fastest way to get rid of them was to answer the questions.

"I was having a smoke, young man, and braving the worst storm I have seen in ages, before this...tawdry mess happened. As for seeing anything unusual, nothing more than entirely too many people getting soaked for even sparser reason than myself!"

[OOC: Sense Motive from you gents as well.]

[DocBeard]

Tomas frowns softly at the jittery little man, clasping his hands behind his back as he thinks, for a moment. How best to do it? Would it look....wrong? But...he must. It is his duty, it is the right thing to do! Even if...

Skip it, Tomas thinks, they allready think I'm looney. It's...liberating, really, not having to worry about a reputation when one doesn't exist. He can do anything he wants. Ha!

"Fassahd, yes?" Tomas smiles warmly, placeing a hand on the man's shoulder and squeezing gently, "I believe the...apparition is gone. Are you allright? Would you like a drink? I think we could all do with a cup of tea and a chance to breathe, after this evening's commotion."

(OOC: I don't know of Tomas being Nice needs a roll of something. If it does, let me know!)