The Eye of Anubis: A Second Interlude

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"You make a good point," Lia replies calmly, "even if you take time enjoying yourself in delivering it. I suppose my passions are running away with me again ... If the Dilisnyas and their cronies allow themselves to be captured, then yes, it would be for the better to capture them and see them tried in a proper manner. Still, to be perfectly clear, are you truly resigned to setting yourself up as our figurehead? If that is so, then your humility truly surprises me, professor."

[yalenusveler]

"Such a delightful way of putting things, Lia" Andre said with a bit of a roll of his eyes. "Sebastian is many things, arrogant, acerbic, cynical..and in this case, right." Andre said the last part as if it nearly caused him physical pain.

"He's got seniority amongst the remaining professors that are..unattached. Makes him the ideal candidate." Andre then smirked a bit "Plus, if things do manage to somehow go drastically wrong in a way we manage somehow to survive, we've got a convenient target for blame. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, eh Sebastian?" Andre's smirk spread into a grin, suggesting that whatever malice was present in his statement, it was a very minuscule amount.

[Kaitou Kage]

Kuzan just sort of stared mutely at his nectar glass for a while as the others bandied and bantered about. They couldn't all possibly be on Sam's side, right? Sure, he was paying them, but they weren't all greedy, selfish bastards that deserved whatever fell fate awaited them at the Tomb, were they? Some of them were still willing to be friends if they knew the whole truth, right?

"It doesn't matter to me," he said quietly, fists clenched on the table, "As long as all this backstabbing and maneuvering and posturing stops. I didn't sign up for this and if I'd known it was going to be like this, I don't know I would've ever come in the first place. We're all that's left and if it doesn't stop now, we'll probably all die and Samael will win and that'll be that."

[Nathan of the FoS]

"It will be very difficult indeed for Maleagant to claim the cloak of legality," Charles notes. "I can, at least, guarantee that much. Government work has its compensations. You argue cogently for your position, Professor Marchand-Renier, but I hope you will not misunderstand me when I say that I think leadership of the Expedition must now pass to Professor Carter. He has very forthrightly declared his interest in the Eye and his organizational ties, and they are such as to increase, rather than decrease, my confidence that his expertise and the expertise of his fellows is what we now require to bring the Expedition to a successful conclusion. If what we want is to destroy, hide, or nullify the power of the Eye, he's the man to do it. You, on the other hand, beg off speaking of any ulterior motive that might have brought you here; it is not a position that inspires confidence."

Charles shrugs very slightly. "Pro forma control of the Expedition devolves upon you, in the nature of things, and that is not problematic. But I think we will all be better served to put the day-to-day management and goals of the Expedition into the hands of Professor Carter."

Diplomacy 34 to sway the NPCs present. Bluff 16

[NeoTiamat]

Dining Room, The Monastery of Stilled Nightmares, Sebua
July 20th, 761, 1:48 PM; Day 125 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"You make a good point," Lia replies calmly, "even if you take time enjoying yourself in delivering it. I suppose my passions are running away with me again ... If the Dilisnyas and their cronies allow themselves to be captured, then yes, it would be for the better to capture them and see them tried in a proper manner. Still, to be perfectly clear, are you truly resigned to setting yourself up as our figurehead? If that is so, then your humility truly surprises me, professor."

"Good to know I can still surprise you then, Lia." Marchand-Renier said with a wry smile.

"Such a delightful way of putting things, Lia" Andre said with a bit of a roll of his eyes. "Sebastian is many things, arrogant, acerbic, cynical..and in this case, right." Andre said the last part as if it nearly caused him physical pain.

"He's got seniority amongst the remaining professors that are..unattached. Makes him the ideal candidate." Andre then smirked a bit "Plus, if things do manage to somehow go drastically wrong in a way we manage somehow to survive, we've got a convenient target for blame. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, eh Sebastian?" Andre's smirk spread into a grin, suggesting that whatever malice was present in his statement, it was a very minuscule amount.

"Thank you, Andre. I always know that I can count on you to aim a knife at my back, academic or otherwise." Marchand-Renier nodded, though his words were less flippant than usual. He was an abrasive personality, but not a foolish one, and there was appreciation for Andre's comments. "Thank you."

"If what we want is to destroy, hide, or nullify the power of the Eye, Carter's the man to do it. You, on the other hand, beg off speaking of any ulterior motive that might have brought you here; it is not a position that inspires confidence."

Charles shrugs very slightly. "Pro forma control of the Expedition devolves upon you, in the nature of things, and that is not problematic. But I think we will all be better served to put the day-to-day management and goals of the Expedition into the hands of Professor Carter."

"All things being equal, Charles, you throw around accusations of ulterior motives very freely for someone who has spent the last four months misleading his friends." Unlike with Lia, there was actual anger in Marchand-Renier's voice. Perhaps there were some things which did touch the linguist's honor, or pride at any rate. "Still, I suppose deceit is fashionable in Sebuan desert expeditions these days."

"It's alright Charles, Lia." Professor Carter spoke up for the first time. It seemed that the archand sometime Guardian Seeker had not been expecting this turn of events. "I'm happy with a supporting role, really."

"On the contrary, Thomas." Sebastian interrupted. "Your student raises a good point. A partnership of sorts, perhaps? You handle the desert, criminals, ancient artifacts of evil and such-like. I handle the University bureaucracy when we return."

Marchand-Renier sipped his drink for a moment, before adding thoughtfully. "You may be getting the safer end of the partnership."

"I don't like it." Edmund frowned. "It's too close to how it used to be, with two people in charge and no clear hierarchy. In a combat situation, or even something half-military like this you want someone specific in charge, else you get conflicting orders. That can be deadly if it happens at the wrong time..."

[Kaitou Kage]

"Ed's right," Kuzan looked up, "We have to make sure we're a unified front, even if we're only doing it to stop Sam, get the eye, and deal with it. We all have to be on the same page here."

He looked at Carter and then at Marchand-Renier. "For my part, it makes no difference who is in charge as long as someone is willing to take the reins. However, if Professor Carter is all right with Professor Marchand-Renier in charge, then I don't see why it can't be so. I've spoken with Professor Marchand-Renier on occasion and I get the impression he has good enough sense to heed Professor Carter's advice on this mission. Carter does have the adventuring and ruins-delving experience we need and we will have that experience with us whether he is our official leader or not.

"But Ed is right. We have to establish who this will work under or we're going to get ourselves killed before we can stop the others. If there is to be a partnership, then we need clearly drawn lines on who takes charge in what situations."

[Nathan of the FoS]

"All things being equal, Charles, you throw around accusations of ulterior motives very freely for someone who has spent the last four months misleading his friends." Unlike with Lia, there was actual anger in Marchand-Renier's voice. Perhaps there were some things which did touch the linguist's honor, or pride at any rate. "Still, I suppose deceit is fashionable in Sebuan desert expeditions these days."

"It would seem so, alas," Charles says, nodding. "You should know as well as anyone, Professor, that all things are never equal. Just as in this present business--someone has to take the reins and head the Expedition. I've given my own thoughts on the matter. Professor Marchand-Renier's solution seems practicable to me--defer to Professor Carter in the desert and at the tomb, and unite behind Professor Marchand-Renier in the halls of Academe. I'll pledge myself to that."

[Kaitou Kage]

Kuzan worked his jaw just slightly for a minute or two. Then, he sighed glumly and gestured in Charles's general direction.

"That's what I was trying to say," he said, feeling a little dumb.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Sounds fine to me," Lia says with a shrug. "If the rest of us can agree, then it is time to start thinking about our departure. As I said, give me two days and I can provide mounts and housing for us during the trip. Unless everyone is in a hurry to brave the desert on foot ...?"

[NeoTiamat]

Dining Room, The Monastery of Stilled Nightmares, Sebua
July 20th, 761, 2:11 PM; Day 125 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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It was during this brief interlude that the Abbot of the Monastery of Stilled Nightmares returned. The bronze-masked creature entered the room gracefully, his black robes flowing across the floor like liquid shadows. Something more curious however, was what was following him.

It was Small-Star. The wolf padded into the room after the Abbot and walked over to Otto, curling at his feet. In a few moments the lupine visitor from Hazlan was fast asleep. [Int Check]

I'm uncertain why she is still here, but she was sleeping in the library. The Abbot whispered into your mind, tilting his head slightly to look at Otto. Regardless, pardon the delay, but it was necessary for me to visit a few places out of the way.

You asked about your hand, Kuzan? Then you may find this interesting. The Abbot reached into his robes and pulled out a mummified human hand.

Well, no, it wasn't an actual human hand, though it bore a considerable resemblance to one. It seemed to be crafted of clay, though as he placed it on the table it was warm to the touch.

What was particularly curious about it, however, was the faint burn marks on the false flesh. Largely because they resembled the burn marks on Kuzan's hand almost perfectly.

On the palm, there was a curious eye emblazoned, not the Eye of Thoth common in Akiri work but a pair of almond-shape ovals, one within the other. Surrounding it were five symbols of the Dikesha, the same ones as were about Kuzan's hand.

What was different were the words enscribed around those. Where Kuzan's burns spoke of "Menetnashte's Sin, Menetnashte's Curse, Menetnashte's Fate", the burns upon this clay representation spoke of something altogether different.

"Menetnashte's Journey, Menetnashte's City, Menetnashte's Key"

This belonged to an early monk's of this Monastery, a Derry Hazel by name. The Abbot placed the little booklet on the table, the one you had seen earlier in the library. I believed there was something familiar about your hand, Kuzan, though the representation took me a bit of time to craft.

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• Who doth judge the flesh of man?
  
  For there is no art in the judgment, no compassion, no intelligence, no meaning.
  
  How many men can be stacked in the sea? I know the truth of it now; I have stared into the deep abyss. I feel the dreams of flesh descend upon me once more. The abbot suppresses them but cannot remove them; he cannot strip away reality, though he tries, like a knife peels flesh, it compresses on me like a vice. The art is in my blood, like the blood of the drowned men of the island, dragged under the waves by the blood of the other: V'hu-ehn n'kutgnath, fha'gnu n'aem'nh. V'naa-glyz-zai v'naa-glyz-zn'a cylth. I'a rhy'gezengrho.
  
  He took the cow, took the calf
  took a butcher and a half
  took the church, took the steeple
  took the priest and all the people
  cow and a calf
  ox and a half
  church and a steeple
  all good people
  but he cannot reach here.
  Am I cursed? If the art is in my blood, blood will drag me down. It flows clearly here. I bled the art
  
  loose but the abbot forced it back into me. The blood is in him too, but it is not my blood.
  they are waiting for me
  they can see me
  
  …
  
  …
  
  If on cold winter's longest night,
  You seek the king of madness and might,
  If your feet are nimble and light,
  You'll find your way by candlelight.
  You'll come across three strangers,
  Upon a road of brass.
  One is deaf and one is blind,
  And one is broken glass.
  
  And with them stands a figure blinding bright,
  Enthroned on frozen throne of blue and white,
  Who strips from you all grace and hope and joy,
  All meaning doth he ruin and destroy.
  Shed thy cold beams into my feeble mind,
  And raise my thoughts, too broken and too blind,
  To look upon the future, black and vile,
  The folly and despair of all mankind.
  
  Now I walk forth to the City of Dread,
  East North-East West South-West North do I tread,
  Don your cloak and your habit, says the god of the abbot,
  With what are you laden? asks the green maiden,
  You love her and kill her, says the King Silver,
  You'll soon be my servant, says the red serpent,
  Come forth to our feast, says the great faceless beast,
  Now come to the pass, says the shadowy mass,
  And bring me a book to read in my bed,
  And bring me a dagger to clear out my head,
  To write and to weep until every man's dead.
  
  …
  
  …
  
  Along the sand the nightmares snake,
  The twin god lives behind the break,
  The shadows lengthen in Kamarn-Quse.
  
  Strange is the night where black stars rise,
  And strange moons circle through the skies
  But stranger still is Great Kamarn-Quse.
  
  Songs that the priest-lords shall sing,
  To bloody virtues of the King,
  Must die unheard in Bright Kamarn-Quse.
  
  Song of my soul, my voice is dead;
  Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed
  Shall dry and die in Dread Kamarn-Quse.
  
  …
  
  …
  
  I take my place in the great ritual and place my book upon the altar.
  The actors take the book from me and perform their roles to arrive at the finale, predetermined.
  What do they see in the labyrinth of cause and effect?
  Do they see the fatal lies weaved around them?
  Do they see the fake lies they were led to see?
  Do they see the bright shining lies that must never be seen through?
  The roles of the play keep shifting and changing.
  My role is the guide. My role is destruction.
  I take this role because none else desire it.
  Their role is that of mere pawns.
  That is why they are free.
  The clock ticks because it is fate. An inevitable destiny predetermined by the world.
  Which way does it tick? To the past or to the future?
  
  The beauty of the world is only skin deep.
  It is a stage set.
  The abbot still bleeds from his severed feet.
  His feet would shatter the glass stage he stands on.
  Those who leave this place will perish, clinging to their illusionary world, with fake smiles upon their faces.
  And yet I cannot escape this fake prison that consumes me.
  I am too afraid to look beyond it.
  But I shall destroy the boundary between eternity and fantasy.
  This is my role.
  If they desire it of me, a clock will tick to the past, filled with hate and love.
  If they desire it of me, a clock will tick to the future beyond this world.
  
  The clock is broken.
  
  There was a young poet
  And nothing he had,
  And so this young poet
  Was said to be mad.
  He'd nothing to eat,
  He'd nothing to wear,
  He'd nothing to lose,
  He'd nothing to fear,
  He'd nothing to ask,
  And nothing to give,
  And when he did die
  He'd nothing to leave.

[Nathan of the FoS]

Charles sits forward and looks at the clay hand with interest. "Thank you, Your Reverence, for your trouble," he says. "It's an interesting coincidence--well, not coincidence, but convergence, I suppose one would have to say, since the two hands are obviously too similar not to be linked." Charles leans back again, taking an apple from the table and peeling it with one of his daggers in a single long spiral, then cutting it into pieces and eating them as he speaks, "And, despite our disadvantages relative to our erstwhile companions, it's not as if Samael and his gang know all there is to be known...well, I suppose it depends on M'sieur al-Atim's memory, as I believe he was the only one of our dear departed who was with us at certain points where we got interesting information. For example, we might--just might--be able to steal a march on them if we can find a more direct route to the Tomb. For example, we've got some interesting information on the city of Kerman-Quse, the seat of Menentnashte, and it seems plausible that he would have been interred in or near the city he ruled. If we could interpret M'sieur Hazel's doggerel in a way that could give us some confidence about its location, we might try striking directly toward it, since we will be less concerned about the location of oases and so forth--our food, drink and mounts being provided for, largely, by arcane or divine means."

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"I do need two days before I can provide the mounts, Charles," Lia cautions. "After that, we are golden as far as transport is concerned. But I need those two days."

[Kaitou Kage]

"East, North-East, West, South-West, North," Kuzan whispered the lines under his breath. For a time, the pain of betrayal, the frustrations with himself were replaced with a dawning understanding. His brow furrowed in thought as his mind put all the pieces together. Then he stood up suddenly.

"I got it!"

"East, North-East, West, South-West, North," he exclaimed excitedly, "That's the path we have to follow." He put a finger on the book at the appropriate point and drew it down.

"'on your cloak and habit, says the god of the abbot.' The Abbot, don't you see?" he pointed vaguely in the Abbot's direction but was getting too agitated to get good aim, "We're here, at the starting place! Everything down here, these are the stops we have to make! East to the green lady, northeast to the King Silver, and so on! Then to the shadowy mass at the end -- Menetnashte!"

Kuzan looked pleadingly at the Abbot. "I'm sorry to trouble you further, but can we borrow this book? And what can you tell me about this Derry Hazel? Did he say where he came from or how he came by the same mark I carry?"

He took a deep breath, glanced at the others, especially the remaining professors, then back to the Abbot. "This could be important," he said firmly, "It's sort of a secret that most people here know about already anyway. I didn't even know about it until recently. But I was born over seven hundred years ago in Har'Akir, under Menetnashte's reign. I bore witness to the terrible battle that sealed him away. My mother took me and together we fled on a ship to escape the war. There was a storm--never mind, that part is not important. What is important to me is Derry Hazel, who he is, and how this might relate to me. When the Anubite revealed this to me, she branded me with this mark, and this ball I carry, this Dikesha, I've had it with me my whole life. So is there anything you can tell me about this man? Anything at all?"

[NeoTiamat]

Dining Room, The Monastery of Stilled Nightmares, Sebua
July 20th, 761, 2:16 PM; Day 125 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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The book is yours, if you so desire. The Abbot placed the little pamphlet of the madman's writings on the table. The bronze-masked entity sat at one of the chairs himself, steepling his fingers in silence as he thought.

Derry Hazel was one of the original monks of this place, from shortly before my time. He was a Grabenite sailor, I believe, out of Meedorf. The Abbot spoke, calling up memories from time out of mind. He was a large man, pale-skinned, white-haired, and possessed of pale, blue eyes. He tended to stay away from the sunlight if he could, and towards the later years of his life he stayed in his quarters whenever possible. He died very young, not more than twenty-four years of age.

By the time of my arrival, Hazel had already begun his descent into madness, but a few years later he began to write in earnest. He was never a violent or troublesome lunatic, so we left him in peace when possible. The Abbot shrugged, an almost human gesture. I tried a few times to cure him of his insanity, but it proved resistant to every tactic I knew. I'm not certain what it was he suffered from, but I have not encountered it before or since, and this Monastery has a history of madness in its inmates.

Mostly, Hazel's madness manifested in social isolation and strange, bizarre dreams. I believe he was influenced by Ronoph in this regard, but there seems to be more to it. To the best of my knowledge, Hazel did not leave the Monastery grounds for the last years of his life, but he spoke vividly of traveling to Barovia, or Darkon, or Mordent... or even my homeland.

He also sometimes spoke of travelling to the Dread City, Kamarn-Quse. From my... examinations... of his mind, it is the city of Kamarn-Quse that the necromancer Cavendish saw using Ronoph's bound power. The Abbot ran a gloved finger over the clay representation of the mummified hand. But there was more.

A few weeks before his death, Hazel spoke to me of visiting the Dread City once more in his dreams. He spoke of a black-robed figure, a jackal-masked woman with a touch that was like fire, who never spoke but told him many things. He said that she had told him of ancient days, of dark gods and demonic beasts. She told him of the Faceless Shadow, and the darkness that he will spread. She told him of the black key that will unlock the path, and that it lies in Kamarn-Quse.

He committed suicide in his room a few weeks after this dream. That was in 521.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Interesting," Lia says after a fraught pause. "Why would the Anubite, sworn guardian against the revival of Menetnashte, release such knowledge to Hazel? Unless this was a different Anubite, one associated with Menetnashte's faction of the split, or ... unless she, also, has been lying about her purpose? Or was she laying groundwork for some prophecy which offers a chance to thwart Menetnashte once and for all to come true? Can anyone else think of a different explanation? I would truly like to hear it."