The Eye of Anubis: Book Nine

[yalenusveler]

"I'll have to speak with the Oracle" Andre said quietly. "Were I to engage in the required activity, I would be breaking my pact with her, with dire consequences for the people of that valley." Andre winced at the thought of having that on his head. "And even then, just because you don't know of other ways, doesn't mean there aren't other ways. She may just have found a way that doesn't require a suicide pact."

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Al-Muharin," Lia says, voice quiet, contemplative. "Cavendish. Who and what are they, really? And why have you not attacked them directly? Have you not the power?" She twitches, as if struck by something -- a memory, in this case. "And who was that sailor you murdered in Dementlieu? What connection did he have to all of this, if any?"

[lostboy]

"One life for the lives of the countless people of these misty lands.." Sascha murmurs, the initial shock having worn off that a youth from the frozen north, a man full of hatred and violence, now a knight struggling for forgiveness could indeed become worthy. "Truly the path of redemption takes some unexpected turns." But as that thought leaves his mind, it is replaced by another, a choice must be made. His eyes follow to the four named as pledges, the young priest, the fey-touched scholar, and the young knight... in Sascha;'s mind it isnt a choice at all. Slowly he moves forward until he faces Menatnashte.

Looking down with a fire of righteousness in his eyes, he speaks in a low strong tone, directing his words towards the woman at the heart of this. "So it comes to this, your pride and folly has threatened the land with eternal darkness, so now you seek atonement for your past. Yet it falls to us to set these things right, and face down the darkness itself. You speak of deeds we did not instigate, nor were alive to witness, yet you plainly ask for one of our number to lay down their life and soul for them? You ask much."

Sascha holds up his hand for silence to allow him to finish. "But if there is a choice to be made, then I choose to accept this destiny. I make this choice not to appease you or your gods, not to grant you the release you yearn for, not even for the state of my own soul. No I make this choice to protect the people of these lands, those who cannot fight for themselves. I have blood on my hands, a debt I owe to the world, if this should be how payment shall be made, then so be it."

[DocBeard]

"Mrmph." Tomas crosses his arms, having reluctantly accepted the fact that the woman isn't going to try and kill them. Yet. "I think your sinister divination is off, ma'am. For one thing, my family's been from Lamordia for generations-we're not exactly a religious people." Normally, he wouldn't make a thing of it, but if he's going to DIE, well, he doesn't want a loophole making it for nothing.

"For another thing, if this is implying that Cavendish is of the proper bloodline, why can't we just use him? Make him think that he has to be the Pledge to control the fiend. We kill him, and the monster, it follows, ja?" Again, there is a time and a place for honor, and in Tomas Eisenwald's book, this does not include 'when we can do the job by killing an evil wizard instead.'. It also doesn't include working on Sundays, but that's a story for another day.

[NeoTiamat]

Menetnashte's Quarters, The Temple of Anuberith, Kamarn-Quse, Har'Akir
August 19th, 761, 3:37 PM; Day 155 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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The Anubite watched the discussion take place without expression, except for the very slight, very faint hint of a smile at the edge of her lips. The Menetnashte of ancient days had been more than a sorceress and priestess. She had been a leader of menn, and by all accounts a good one. Not a very honest one, nor a particularly compassionate one. But always, her talent was for delegation, for finding the perfect people for the task at hand. Nebebit, Marchosias, Ronoph. Beherith, even. Those were her tools once.

A thousand years had passed, and her motives had changed, but still Menetnashte found the perfect people for the task at hand.

"You are saying that one of our fellows must make a pact with Beherith, then sacrifice himself as the pledge corresponding to the pact, yes? Assuming one of these gentlemen were to volunteer himself, what would we have do to make sure of encompassing Beherith's downfall, and what can the rest of us do to help?"

Menetnashte shook her head, then briefly tapped her mouth, and then the robes over her heart. The ritual, at its core, was a simple one. One had to voice the Pact, and one had to kill the Pledge. There may well be more elaborate and arcane requirements needed to fully access Beherith's power, but for the fiend's death, this was enough.

Admittedly, arranging it was likely to be more difficult than just that. But the basic idea seemed simple enough.

"Mrmph." Tomas crosses his arms, having reluctantly accepted the fact that the woman isn't going to try and kill them. Yet. "I think your sinister divination is off, ma'am. For one thing, my family's been from Lamordia for generations-we're not exactly a religious people." Normally, he wouldn't make a thing of it, but if he's going to DIE, well, he doesn't want a loophole making it for nothing.

"You can't see it, can you, Tomas?" Devereux said, strangely. "But I suppose that's what makes you... you."

Menetnashte, for her part, didn't seem terribly concerned whether or not Tomas believed her.

Lia twitches, as if struck by something -- a memory, in this case. "And who was that sailor you murdered in Dementlieu? What connection did he have to all of this, if any?"

The Anubite said nothing to this question. She did, however, look at Charles briefly. Which was probably as eloquent an answer as one could expect.

"For another thing, if this is implying that Cavendish is of the proper bloodline, why can't we just use him? Make him think that he has to be the Pledge to control the fiend. We kill him, and the monster, it follows, ja?" Again, there is a time and a place for honor, and in Tomas Eisenwald's book, this does not include 'when we can do the job by killing an evil wizard instead.'. It also doesn't include working on Sundays, but that's a story for another day.

"The maker of the pact need not be of... any bloodline," Devereux began to object.

But Menetnashte nodded slightly, though the look in her eyes said that it might not be quite so simple as all that. Devereux voiced what was likely passing through more than one mind, though there was surprise in his voice.

"Cavendish is of a religious lineage." Devereux gave a troubled frown. "Will we just give him the Eye, Tomas? If anything went wrong, if any other pledge died before he did..." He didn't finish the thought.

Menetnashte said nothing, not that she ever did, but did raise a single, black-gloved hand. Once more the black fire rose, a canvas upon which the Anubite crafted her answers to those questions she deigned to answer.

"Fassahd is of one as well, it seems." Charles Devereux said, watching the Akiri's face appear in the flames. Then his eyes went wide. "So is... Samael? And... Jervis?"

"Any one of them might be... used... in a pact with Beherith," The professor ran a finger across his lips, pensively. Devereux continued, in a slightly discomforting tone of voice. "I am certain the demon would offer. Cavendish would be willing, certainly... and the others? Could we put it past them?"

"The Lorelei said this mark you placed on me is a seal," Kuzan said, his gaze focused and golden eyes intense, "A seal of what? What am I protecting? This Dikesha, what does it mean? Does it just mark me as a Pledge-Child or is there a greater meaning? And how is it the same and different from Derry Hazel's? Menetnashte's Sin, Menetnashte's Curse, Menetnashte's Fate. What does all of that have to do with me?"

The Anubite looked at Kuzan for what felt like an eternity, brown eyes soft, kind. Images flashed rapidly in the flames, images of entities beyond reckoning. The Dreamlord Night-Terror. The Lorelei. The wolf-fey, Atheling. Spite and Malice. Featherflute. And other creatures as well, entities you only half recognized. On every face, there was hunger, and every face leaned in towards Kuzan. Save for the last, which was no face, but living shadow. Beherith.

"I think... I think it's meant to be a protection. Something to keep you from the supernatural predators who might find such a marked dish... tempting." Devereux translated, hesitantly. The professor could understand the Anubite's peculiar ways better than any, but it was still an imperfect communication. Perhaps Menetnashte preferred it that way. "It keeps the Pledge-Child, or anyone else Menetnashte has an interest in... hidden? Inviolate, I suppose. So long as you don't... look for trouble."

Menetnashte nodded curtly, a sign that Devereux was mostly, if not necessarily perfectly, correct. Emboldened, the professor continued.

"As for the Dikesha... an answer to a question of how to slay Beherith? The Fiend, Beherih, is found in the Tomb, the actual Tomb of Menetnashte... er... without Menetnashte in it. You need a Key to enter the Tomb, and you need Passion, a sacrifice, to release all involved from Stasis."

Devereux stood up, straightening out his coat before looking up at the expedition.

"I think we've stayed here long enough. We have what we came for." Devereux looked back at Menetnashte for a second before continuing. "The Black Key... is more a title than an object. Menetnashte is the original Black Key."

A face flickered in the fire.

"Fassahd... is another one, it seems..." Devereux frowned. Still, he sighed and continued. "I think... I think she means to come with us. At least until the Tomb."

[Kaitou Kage]

Kuzan shuddered as Menetnashte's visions of hungry beings passed over him. "So it's a cloak, not a seal," he said quietly after it all finished, "It keeps everything from finding me. Keeps me from being spirit-food for...gods, for so much." He tapped the side of his head. "And from him, too?"

"I didn't come all this way to die," he murmured, "And I'm tired of how much death has already happened since before we even left. There has to be another way."

The priest shook his head and looked up at Menetnashte again. "Do you know about Edmund's curse?" he asked, "That is why I contacted you again. He is destined -- or cursed to fall in love with you. He dreams of you constantly, and he cannot rest until..." Kuzan trailed off. "Will you at least let me introduce you so he can tell you himself?"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Samael and Jervis are Dilisnyas, are they not?" Lia says. "And a Dilisnya was the founding prophet of the church of Ezra. Depending on the bloodlines, those two can most certainly be of the proper bloodline to serve as the demon's next snack. Fassahd ... he seemed sincere in his worship of Anubis. It makes me wonder why he threw in his lot with the demon."

The Mage glances between Kuzan and Menetnashte when the former makes his request, but although stark disapproval fairly radiates from her, she says nothing. 'This pit viper is probably incapable of loving anyone or anything other than herself,' she thinks to herself. 'Pity Harris ... Unless she has unexpected depths, he really is doomed to death.'

Lia's red eyes come to rest on Menetnashte again. 'Has this one even thought of atoning in all those many years?' she wonders. 'She desires release, but does she even feel guilty for an age of tyranny, when fiends walked freely and tormented the innocent along with the guilty? I doubt it. I doubt it strongly.

And now we have to travel with the creature.'

[DocBeard]

"Well, if I were writing this story, the fact that Fassahd shares the same mystical trait with Mrs. M here." Tomas nods his head respectfully to the silent whateveress. "Would imply that they're related, and the whole reason Fassahd's on this trip is to avoid whatever doom his bloodline connection has set him to."

As for him, "...well, if a connection that distant counts, then maybe some distant great uncle of mine is a Petronova or something." Tomas shrugs. "It'd explain the lingering reputation for insanity." You might notice that this is the most Tomas has ever mentioned about his family or home life.

He turns around then, lighting a pipe and frowning in thought. "Can we get what needs to be done in writing, please? Obviously there are some miscommunications going on, and I don't want to take the risk of misunderstanding for something this important."

[Nathan of the FoS]

Lia twitches, as if struck by something -- a memory, in this case. "And who was that sailor you murdered in Dementlieu? What connection did he have to all of this, if any?"

The Anubite said nothing to this question. She did, however, look at Charles briefly. Which was probably as eloquent an answer as one could expect.

"He was a Dementlieuse agent," Charles confirms quietly. "I don't know what he did to fall foul of you, madame. Got a little too close while trying to learn about al-Muharin and what had brought him to Dementlieu, I would guess?"

"So...Madame is a Key, and Fassahd is another. What of this...Passion? What sacrifice will be required at the Tomb to end this 'stasis'?"

[yalenusveler]

"My cat said Fassahd smelled wrong." Andre said, as if that singular statement made perfect sense in the grand scheme of things. "I brought Pumpkin near him, and she started to grow quite panicked, telling me to get away from him, that he smelled like "Life-Death". " Andre shrugged. "I didn't spend too much time on it then, but is it possible that when he breached the tomb the first time, he was slain, and somehow reanimated as a catspaw by Berith?"

[NeoTiamat]

Menetnashte's Quarters, The Temple of Anuberith, Kamarn-Quse, Har'Akir
August 19th, 761, 3:40 PM; Day 155 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"So...Madame is a Key, and Fassahd is another. What of this...Passion? What sacrifice will be required at the Tomb to end this 'stasis'?"

Tomas turns around then, lighting a pipe and frowning in thought. "Can we get what needs to be done in writing, please? Obviously there are some miscommunications going on, and I don't want to take the risk of misunderstanding for something this important."

The Anubite frowned for a moment, then shook her head. Too many risks inherent in putting ink to paper. And so, as was her custom, Menetnashte sought out a different form of communication. The blue-black lightning flowed from her fingers, forming a ring, then a cage, then an illusion.

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Menetnashte shivered slightly in the night air. The library of Anubis's temple was cold, and the young woman clutched her heavy student's robes more closely about her. She didn't dare light a candle, as being caught by the priests just now would be... bad. Very, very bad. Still, the ritual was almost ready, and it would be equally bad if she made a mistake because she was shivering.

Menetnashte steadied her breathing, practicing the same meditation exercises the priests had taught her. As she forced herself to relax, she surveyed the preparations once more.

The ritual must take place where the sun had not shone for a year and a day. The library's storage closet passed that muster, Menetnashte was sure of, built in the middle of a hundred-year old building without windows or doors in the closet or the corridor outside.

The ritual required a summoning circle drawn with a combination of ash, date juice, and blood. Thankfully it didn't have to be her blood, as the summoning circle was also decidedly on the large side. It was also unimaginably complex, but Menetnashte had gone over her designs for the last three days.

Menetnashte gathered her courage. The ritual was as ready as it would ever be. Now to just get the drugged priest's son she had stashed away in the next closet and recite the words. Menetnashte mumbled them under her breath, committing them to memory for the final time.

• "Lord of Shadows, be revealed.
  Lord of Darkness, be illuminated.
  A petitioner calls, a Pact is offered."
  
  "In your servants names, I call thee,
  By word of Ronove, by word of Marchosias.
  A petitioner calls, a Pact is offered."
  
  "With blood of your foe,
  I entice thee, come Dark One.
  A petitioner calls, a Pact is offered."

Well, no more putting it off. Menetnashte gathered her courage once more, pulled the kitchen knife from her robes, and went to get the Pledged sacrifice.



[OOC: The ritual required to bind Beherith (and by the same token, to kill him) consists of the following inputs:

1. It must take place somewhere where natural sunlight does not fall.
2. It requires a ritual circle, at least twelve feet in diameter. Crafting the circle requires at least one hour and a DC 30 Spellcraft Check. You may take 20 on this check, but it takes twenty hours.
3. A short recitation by the Pact-Maker.
4. The killing of a Pledge by any methods desired, at the ritual circle.

If Pact-Maker and Pledge are the same person, Beherith is slain.

Also, DC 30 Spot Check or DC 25 Sense Motive Check.

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The illusion faded, but you knew you would remember it. A simple fixing enchantment for memory appeared to be quite within Menetnashte's powers today.

The priest shook his head and looked up at Menetnashte again. "Do you know about Edmund's curse?" he asked, "That is why I contacted you again. He is destined -- or cursed to fall in love with you. He dreams of you constantly, and he cannot rest until..." Kuzan trailed off. "Will you at least let me introduce you so he can tell you himself?"

Menetnashte tilted her head to one side, as though Kuzan was relaying interesting news, but nothing overwhelmingly so. Then she nodded.

"Well... I guess that settles things." Devereux said quietly. "Best be off."

Outside the Temple of Anuberith, Kamarn-Quse, Har'Akir
August 19th, 761, 4:09 PM; Day 155 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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When you returned to the rest of the Expedition, with a much-changed Charles Devereux and a rather ominous Anubite behind you, it was a somber group that greeted you. Marchand-Renier was up, though he stood quietly, leaned against a wall, not looking at anyone. He did not look up when you arrived.

Most everyone else, though, stared at the Anubite as she came out. Professor Carter was the first to recover his voice. "You know... you can tell us later. Let's just get out of here."

There was no argument.

===============================================

"Never thought I'd be so happy to see the sun again." Dieter said with profound relief as you left the Dread City of Kamarn-Quse. It took a little bit to get back to the ground, but there was just a sense of relief. No more madness, no more hatred, nothing more twisting your minds and emotions.

Nothing except yourselves and each other, of course.

"Should we... you know... close the entrance somehow?" Dieter suggested, very quietly. "If someone else come---"

The student was interrupted by the sharp scent of ozone and a soft crackle of lightning coming from behind you. You turned, to see the Anubite in front of the cliff face with the entrance to Kamarn-Quse. Or rather, where the entrance had once been. For now, you saw nothing upon the cliff but stone and sand.

"...Never mind." Dieter said softly as Menetnashte followed behind you. Remy watchd the somber-faced Akiri woman, then spared a gaze for the near catatonic Marchand-Renier. "Going to be a fun trip to Muhar..."