The Eye of Anubis: Book Four

[steveflam]

I am presuming that with 18 strength I can carry in fact one person on my back and perhaps on in my arms?

Ishaq fears the magic, so gritting his teeth he swallows. "Cast your spell, Effendi Mournswaithe." Closing his eyes he feels suddenly light as a feather. Looking around he speaks to whomever he can carry. "One on my back and one in my arms should do fine unless the rope is better then perhaps I can carry a bit more?"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Ishaq fears the magic, so gritting his teeth he swallows. "Cast your spell, Effendi Mournswaithe."

Lia looks back to the large man, now floating a few inches above the ground. "Not to worry, sir Ishaq," she tells him calmly. "The only way that spell could cause you danger is if you try to fly when it has run out."

[yalenusveler]

Andre sharply hissed in a breath, and turned to Lia. His voice pitched low. "It would be a pity if we encountered company that can fly.". He tried to be subtle about where he gestured, enough to give her the hint, but not enough to tip off their observer.

19 on a Bluff, Intimating that yes, we HAVE company

[Rock of the Fraternity]

As Andre turns to Lia, he can suddenly see a disquieting squirming under her hood, somewhere near her temple. All thoughts of strange appendages probably end when Grimmric peeks his head out from under the hood's rim and chitters furiously at something. Lia startles, then lowers her head, muttering: "Back inside, back inside!"
With obvious reluctance, Grimmric withdraws.
"It's too far away for me to hit it with a spell," Lia mutters to Andre. "Besides, it evaded my Fireball once before already. Tell the others to be careful and stand ready for battle during flight."

[The Whistler]

Otto has finished reloading his wheel-lock and holstered it--and has been standing relatively close to Lia and Andre. He gives them a look, pulls out Donnenschlag in a split second, and pats the stock indicatively.

Striding over to Ishaq; businesslike. "In the arms, if you are not minding...and please face me forward."

[lostboy]

Khalil notes Andre's inclined head, and puzzled squints in that direction. Spooting the crow he quickly whips his head to look at the cliff above them, a small white plumed head draws his attention and with a nod he returns to business.

"Fine, now let us move!" Khalil says with some urgency stuffing both his and Charles rope back into his pack.

Moving across to the man mountian that was Ishaq, he flashes a quick grin, beofre gesturing at the mans broad back [Pharazian] "May I?"

Suddenly an idea sparks to life, turning to Otto he hisses urgently "Affendi do you still have the exploding device? It would be most troublesome to have to fly in the face of confessors arrows and bullets, so perhaps we may leave a small suprise parting gift for our friends?"

[DocBeard]

Golly!, Tomas thinks, looking at Andre. He attempts-

And pay attention to the word "attempt", here.

-to convey a question about the nature of their mysterious, shadowy persuers. It looks a little like he's got a rock in his shoe that's suddenly decided to be a small weasel instead.

[steveflam]

Otto has finished reloading his wheel-lock and holstered it--and has been standing relatively close to Lia and Andre. He gives them a look, pulls out Donnenschlag in a split second, and pats the stock indicatively.

Striding over to Ishaq; businesslike. "In the arms, if you are not minding...and please face me forward."

Ishaq nodded grimly once to Otto. Taking a deep breath, he holds out his arms and basically takes Otto into them. "As you wish, Effendi Schultheiss. Please excuse my awkwardness. I have never done as the hawk or the falcon." Keeping Otto facing forward, he concentrates and feels himself beginning to rise, the sensation of weightlessness foreign to him. Muttering under his breath "Prophet guide our way to safety and I in this new endeavor of flight" He swallows once, remebering Lia's words. "This magic had better last at leasy until we reach safety, otherwise we shall be two less expedition members, I dare say." Ishaq attempred a small bit of humor to assuage his fear as well as Otto's. His ability to fly was less than spectacular, but they kept rising and soon Ishaq had the hang of it.

[The Whistler]

"Affendi do you still have the exploding device? It would be most troublesome to have to fly in the face of confessors arrows and bullets, so perhaps we may leave a small suprise parting gift for our friends?"

Otto frowns slightly, considering.

"Not for those who are merely chasing us because they think of us wrongfully to be murderers, and with whom we are having no real quarrel otherwise...it would not be correct. However..."

He unsnaps a pouch on his holster and removes a fist-sized cylindrical capsule, tossing it to Charles just as Ishaq lifts him into the air.

"Smoke. If things are going badly...light it when is happening the escape."

Steady...losing the language. Can't keep the focus going for much longer...

If Ishaq is paying attention, he can feel the gunsmith shivering slightly, like a spring wound a bit too tightly.

Smoke bomb. One round after it's lit, it should obscure the tunnel mouth entirely; at least we won't have arrows coming from that direction.

[Kaitou Kage]

"Well, then, let's go!" Kuzan took Lia and Loup up in his arms, lifted off, and shot out of the tunnel, and into the darkness over the river. "Bloody hells," he muttered, "Do you people have to make everything so damn complicated?"

[yalenusveler]

"So..anyone willing to carry an Acerbic academic? Tomas, I'd think you owe me, after the mill...but I'm not that petty." Andre said with what was for him at least, a somewhat affable smile. Though he wondered how the hells Tomas had managed to get a weasel in his shoe here of all places.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Bloody hells," he muttered, "Do you people have to make everything so damn complicated?"

"It is about par for the course now, is it not?" Lia sighs, facing forward -- and making sure to keep her hands free for any spellcasting that might become necessary. "At least it is not so wretchedly hot here, so I can move properly. ... I hope Maleagant managed to procure camels. Our horses would probably die within days if we take them into the desert."

[DocBeard]

Obviously not a ssubtle as I thought, Tomas...thinks, shaking his head. Despite the uncomfortable presence of a sucking chest would, Tomas grins a little at Andre, holding his arms out.

"You'll have to buy me dinner, afterward, Professor." Tomas insists, winking, "Otherwise if word got out, I'd be pegged as being open for busniess, nicht war? And my social calendar cannot be standing that much rapid expansion."

[NeoTiamat]

The Chakor Dam, Phiraz
May 24th, 761, 6:49 PM; Day 68 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"That looks rather fun, you know." Michel observed, watching Ishaq and Tomas and Kuzan fly off into the wild blue yonder. Or at least the tame greyish-blue hither. "Recreational flying, I can see this getting to be a fashion in Port-a-Lucine."

"Michel...? Shut up." Guy muttered, wrapping a few of the coils of silk rope around Loup and tying them well. If the dog slipped out of the netting, Loup would not survive the fall. "Come on, let's go."

Most of you were in the air and ready to fly when the Confessors returned to the ledge before the dam. Only Guy, Michel, Loup, and Charles were still on the ledge.

[Pharazian]
."I do not understand! There are no passages anywhere!" Came one voice. Another answered shortly. "Maybe... could they have tried to climb away?"

"But that'd be suicide! The cliff must be slippery as anything."

"And staying for our Lord Prophet to have a chat with them?"

"Good point."

The Confessors came towards the illusion Charles still held before them, gripping the wall and leaning out to look at the side of the cliff.... and leaning right through the illusion.

"That's our cue!" Michel cried even as Charles threw the smokebomb at the cave mouth. Guy grabbed the mathematician around the waist, and they were off. "Let's be off!"

Loup howled to the night sky as the group flew off into the air.

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Swish!

Michel patted the top of his head experimentally. The arrow must have passed a few centimeters above it. "They couldn't have been shooting from the cave mouth.... Could they?"

"Look." Guy pointed.

Atop the wall of the Necropolis, a Confessor drew back his bow of horn and bone for another shot. He couldn't have known who he was shooting at, but there were magic using fugitives around, some people seemed to be trying to fly away, it did not take a feat of Holmsian deductive logic that putting a few arrows in them was a good idea.

"Think I can wing him a bit from here?" Michel grumbled, unholstering his pistol and taking aim. Guy grunted as the shifting weight nearly unbalanced him.

The bullet cracked against the stone near the Confessor's feet, but you had to admire the man's cool. Drawing the longbow back again, he sent another leaf-bladed arrow at the group.

Swish!

"That man is entirely too good." Michel swore and tried to reload his pistol, but a pistol wasn't really a long-range weapon, and Guy's musket was too far away. And then it became a moot point.

The sudden, shrill, avian screech had you looking this way and that, but then you saw the reddish-black crow dive like a streak of crimson lightning towards the Confessor-archer. Whereas bullets didn't bother the archer, a raven the size of an eagle did.

The immense rook flapped his wings before the Confessor, lashing out with lethal, jet-black talons and a murderous beak. The man tried to batter the bird away with his bow, but then went for the sword at his side. Too late.

The pained scream arose in the air, and as you looked back, you saw the Confessor was archer no more. The man clapped his hand to his bleeding, torn wrist. The crow watched him for a moment, flapping its wings idly and hovering in the air, and then took off into the night sky again. It paced you at the distance of a few hundred yards, staying out of spell range.

"Well... hope that heals clean." Michel said, a little shaken by the unexpected aid. "How much longer will this spell last anyway?"

Not long enough.

Outside the Gate of the Scorpions, West of Phiraz
May 24th, 761, 7:32 PM; Day 68 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"Sorry pal, but I'm sure someone will find you soon enough." Samael checked his knots again. They looked good. Turning to the hapless gate-guards he saluted a little insolently and headed back to where the others huddled in the shadow of the western wall of Phiraz.

"Are they back yet?" The organizer asked, dusting off the brown sand off his sleek, black clothing.

"Not yet." Prof. Carter said, worry clear in his voice. The professor's rifle had been fired recently, and the man favored one leg a little. "How long can we wait?"

"Legions take me if I know." Samael cast a glance at Prof. Pelletier, who looked even paler and unhealthier than usual. The fight to break out of the Embassy and the flight through the night streets of the had not been good for him. The older professor kept up a brave front, but... "Another hour, no more. If we don't get some distance by the time the next guard shift comes, we're in deep trouble. Deeper trouble."

The Borcan left Carter to watch the gate, heading down along the wall towards where Dieter and Sarari got the dozens of camels loaded and calm, despite the scents of blood and fear that must've been coming off the Expedition in droves.

"Everything alright?" Samael asked, though he doubted even he looked much alright. He wasn't wounded like some of the others, but the man's nerves were strung tight as a bowstring.

"Yeah, so far so good." Dieter answered, no longer even noticing the crude bandage around his shoulder. Samael gave him a curt nod, even as Sarari 'harrumphed' slightly.

"Alright. Be ready to ride as soon as possible." Samael sighed, as one of the camels snorted. "And keep the damned animals quiet!"

"I'm trying, I'm trying! Guy's good with these things, not me." Dieter protested. Suddenly, all were distracted by the sight of the other guard approaching.

Jervis was the most bloodied of the group, save that it was all someone else's blood. He nodded briefly to Samael, and the Borcan sent him a questioning glance. The mercenary jerked his head towards the river, even as Dieter and Sarari watched on in confusion.

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When a few minutes later the explorers crawled onto the shore of the Chakor river, a little waterlogged, tired and exhausted and in some cases wounded, they were greeted by the entire Expedition, mounted and ready to go.

"I never thought I'd be quite so glad to see you guys." Michel grinned wearily. "Funny thing happened on the way to the Necropolis. We met an old friend."

"Tell us later." The Borcan snapped, massaging his temples with one hand, keeping the unruly and remarkably ugly mount under control with the other. "Get mounted, we need to leave. Fast. You can tell us along the way."

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Short version: Cavendish set us up," Lia says in a quiet tone of voice, while scrambling up onto a camel that is carrying her saddle. "The head confessor was under his control. Diamabel the great prophet of spit thinks we're Cavendish's lackeys, part of a scheme to first kill people and then take money for saving them. Now, let's get out of this blighted city! After Phiraz, I am actually longing for an honest desert!"

The camel Lia has mounted snorts and turns its head, regarding her balefully -- then blinks, its eyes crossing as it finds the ugly head of Lia's cane in front of its nose. The metal knob looks like it's growling at the living beast.

"I am not in the mood for spitting, biting or bucking," Lia tells the camel in soft tones of chill, velvet death. "Carry me without bother, or I swear I'll find a way to skin you alive before I need to run. Got me?"
The camel hesitates, then starts to open its mouth to spit.
"Ah?" Lia says, cautioningly, cane raised for an overhead strike.
The camel hesitates, starts to regurgitate ...
"Ah?" Lia says -- no, growls, arcane energy suddenly crackling around her. The camel turns its head away, making an unhappy, angry noise.

"Onward then, Mr. Lumpy," Lia tells it, her voice again that cold, threatening whisper. "Which way do we go once we're out of this horrible place, sir Maleagant?" Lia asks the organizer. Underneath her, the camel rises to its feet and moves at the direction of her hands and knees.