The Eye of Anubis: Book Five

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Post by lostboy »

Khalil listens to Andre with a sour expression on his face, this was getting better all the time. Still this was new mess they found themselves in and it had to be dealt with. "A long disused room, seemingly old bodies, and new blades, that does not add up." Khalil muses.

Moving forward warily he examines the room more carefully for a moment scannign the floor and walls and surfaces.

[OOC: checking for tracks in the, well I asume dust or looking for signs of recent passage into the room - track 26, also examinign the room for anything noticeable- spot 28]
"I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space..."
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Post by DocBeard »

Tomas doesn't like it...

...but Ishaq earned his respect, tank to tank, in the fight against the Devourer. In fact, he's about the only member of the party Tomas would be okay with going before him in situations like this.

He nods to both men, seeming to...no, perk up would imply there's anything happy about Tomas right now, and would be a lie. Sharpened, perhaps, is a better description of Eisenwald.
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Post by steveflam »

Ishaq looks at Otto with a quizzical look. Pointing to his eyes first he then places his right hand flat and level to the height Otto had put his hand. He points from his eyes to his right hand with his left. Then he turns and facing the open doorway, he points straight, then right and finally left. He then looks at Otto, lifting his shoulders with another quizzical look.

Where are they inside the room?
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Upon Ishaq's initial silent question, Otto pauses for a few seconds. hand straying to his brow--then looks up, suddenly focused; claps the man on the shoulder and nods grimly.

The second gets a more immediate response: a two-handed gesture indicating "straight out," and the mouthed phrase Back wall.
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Post by steveflam »

OOC: Spot 9, Listen 19 , Bluff 1 [just marvelous :shock: :shock: ]


Ishaq mouths Wish me luck. Turning, he grips his greatsword firmly. WIth firm resolve he walks up to the doorway. Looking back he nods once and enters, the light of the torch behind him illuminating his way. He stops and peers ahead, eyes scanning the far wall. Then he scans the rest of the room, then the ceiling. Then he moves farther into the room trying to pretend he doesn't know what Otto was telling him.
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"You worry too much," Kuzan said sourly to Lia, "If the place is haunted or corrupted, these stories aren't going to change that."

He cleared his throat. "Once, in Sri Raji, there was a poor raja who ruled over a poor province. His land was good for nothing but growing jungle, and so he and his peasant workers had little food and little money.

"This changed when the raja's men discovered an ancient temple, with doors gilded in gold, hidden in the jungles of the province. Eager to plunder the temple's riches for himself and rise from his destitute life, the raja gathered his men and looted the temple. He took home wealth beyond his wildest dreams, and he and his people were happy.

"But the gods were not happy. The temple was still a sacred place, dedicated to the great Brahma. By looting the temple, the raja offended Brahma. So, Brahma sent his servant to the raja with a message. Days after the raja returned home from the temple, he found a fearsome creature coiled in front of his gates.

"The creature had the body of a great serpent, covered in dark scales that glittered in the sunlight. A mighty hood flanked its head, a great cobra's hood, marked with the symbol of the great Brahma. But its head was the head of a man and its dark eyes shined with divine authority. Brahma had sent a naga to challenge the bold raja.

'I come with a message from Brahma himself!' the naga called out, 'You will let me in or face the god's wrath!'

"The raja was, rightly, a pious man, who feared the wrath of the gods, and so he ordered his men to let the naga in.

"The naga's dark, sinister coils slithered silently through the raja's keep, stopping in the audience hall. The raja and his men stared in terror as the naga delivered its message.

"'The great Brahma, in his almighty mercy and wisdom, has decreed that you may keep the wealth he gave you,' the naga told the raja, 'But Brahma demands a price, and when the time comes, he will collect his price.' And with that, the naga slithered away, vanishing into the jungle and leaving the raja and his men captivated by fear.

"But the raja and his men soon recovered, and he and his wife had a daughter soon after. She was a lovely girl, with dark hair, rich, deep skin, and large brown eyes. Emboldened by his new wealth, the raja sought out other raja of higher station, with better land to marry his daughter off to. And the gods smiled upon him, for a maharaja, a great king, offered his son to marry the raja's daughter. The raja was overjoyed.

"Years passed, and the raja forgot about the naga's words. He lived happily, raising his daughter to be a good queen. And when she turned sixteen, she was a lovely blossoming flower of a woman, delightful in every way. But the night before her wedding, tragedy struck.

"She vanished from her chambers, with no trace. The guards at her door remembered only that they had seen a strange, shifting, serpentine figure in the darkness and could not tear their eyes from it. And then the raja remembered the naga.

"Angered by what he thought was the naga's treachery, the raja gathered his men and returned to the temple he had plundered so long ago. They burst into the temple, armed and angry, seeking the naga that stole his daughter.

"'I have come to take back what is mine!' the raja shouted to the heavens when he reached the altar.

"'No,' the hissing voice of the naga replied calmly, 'She belongs to Brahma, and Brahma is angered by your insolence.'

"A low hiss echoed through the chamber as the great serpent slid into the room. It coiled around the altar and stared down at the raja and his men. The men drew sword and bow, and raised their weapons at the naga. But the naga only smiled. And began to dance.

"It moved slowly, a hissing sound coming from deep in its throat. Its serpentine body slithered in soft loops and circles, slowly, carefully, never stopping its song or dance. It weaved its head from side to side, eyes fixed on the men below. The raja and his men watched, guarded at first, but soon found they could not look away.

"'Foolish men,' the naga whispered, 'Do you plan to use your blades and bows to strike me?'

"'We cannot strike you unless you allow it,' the raja and his men replied, staring raptly at the naga's coiling body.

"The naga only smiled. 'Come one step closer to me,[/i] it ordered.

"The raja and his men obeyed, stepping closer.

"'Closer,' the naga commanded with a hiss.

"The raja and his men came closer still. The naga's hood flared open, and it opened its mouth wide, setting it before the raja.

"'Closer,' it hissed again.

"The raja stepped closer.

"There were no screams and no cries for help. The raja never returned home, and soon his keep and his land were abandoned and fell into ruin. It is still said today that though the temple is lost to us, if you find the raja's keep, you can still hear the hissing song of the naga echoing through the empty corridors, beckoning visitors to stay."
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Post by Rock of the Fraternity »

Lia first snorts, then starts to laugh. The cold, hissing chortling is not exactly joyous, more an expression of cynical amusement at another's folly.

"Not bad," the Mordentishwoman allows, still without looking up from her book. "But not exactly a ghost story, is it? I recall -" Lia's voice stops, and she chuckles again, this time at herself. "I could tell a story or two," she admits, "but when one starts telling tales, it is always best to know who is listening - as spoke the man who found himself the captive storyteller of a tribe of lazarous demons."
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Post by Kaitou Kage »

Kuzan sniffed disdainfully. "It doesn't have to be about a ghost, does it? Just creepy."
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Lia continues to sound amused. "Perhaps that is how they define frightful tales in Sri Raji. In Mordent, we tend to call such tales 'frightful' or 'horrific'. But it does not truly matter. It was good story, Kuzan."
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The Armory, Level Four, Keep
May 26th, 761, 12:08 PM; Day 70 of the Menetnashte Expedition

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Ishaq mouths Wish me luck. Turning, he grips his greatsword firmly. WIth firm resolve he walks up to the doorway. Looking back he nods once and enters, the light of the torch behind him illuminating his way. He stops and peers ahead, eyes scanning the far wall. Then he scans the rest of the room, then the ceiling. Then he moves farther into the room trying to pretend he doesn't know what Otto was telling him.
The torch provided woefully little light, serving only to illuminate the shadows around the door. The Pharazian guard nevertheless strode bravely forth into the gloom of the armory, ignoring the ever thickening shadows and odd tricks of the light.

....Did that spear move?

No, of course not. It was just a spear. A sharp, slightly bent metal spearhead, almost as thought it had been used before and the kinks never came out of it. It wasn't any different than that old scimitar over there, even if the rust really reminded Ishaq of dried blood. After all, rust sometimes appears in patterns that look like splatters, doesn't it?

Doesn't it?

There was a tiny crunch, and the Pharazian froze. The sound was a small sound, just a little crack. Bone maybe, as though someone had stepped on it. Except Ishaq hadn't stepped on anything. And if Ishaq hadn't steppend on anything...

The shadows thickened in front of the Pharazian guard, and even as the sound of footsteps approached, Ishaq saw them take shape. A short form, but thickly muscled, with a predator's easy and callous confidence. And in one hand, the shadow form held a heavy, vicious mace, the round head of the weapon studded with dozens of long, razor-sharp steel spines. The sounds of breathing grew louder, and the shadowed figure raised the ugly, hideous weapon....

"Worthless." Jervis stepped out of the shadows, hefting the mace disdainfully. "Rusted through."

The Kitchens, Level Five, Keep
May 26th, 761, 12:08 PM; Day 70 of the Menetnashte Expedition

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On closer inspection, the blades weren't new, the wood around the handles petrified and dessicated with time and heat. But somehow, the metal still shone. No tracks were in the room, not a mote of dust was disturbed. Whatever had happened here, had happened so very long ago...

"Right, well, these gentlemen aren't going to be getting better, so shall we continue?" Professor Marchand-Renier said as the investigation of the kitchen revealed nothing else. "Shall we be off, then?"

The Library, Level Six, Keep
May 26th, 761, 12:08 PM; Day 70 of the Menetnashte Expedition

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Thankfully for the explorers, the very next doorway had a stairwell immediately to the right, and following Prof. Marchand-Renier's lead, the quintet headed upstairs.

A level higher still, the stairwell opened up into the library of the keep. It had, if you will, a kind of austere grandeur. Compared to the great Library of Phiraz, it didn't compare at all, but for a humble desert keep, it was most impressive. A single, open room of considerable size and height, bookshelves lined the walls to the very ceiling.

And yet... there was a feeling of decay about the room. Where the Library of Phiraz was about knowledge that lived and grew, this was a stagnant library. It grew no more, only the books slowly rotting on the shelves. There were no students or professors here to thumb these old works, no scribes or librarians to keep them in condition. This was a dead library, and you were here to pick over its bloated corpse.

"Azophi's Book of Fixed Stars.... Anatomy of the Eye by al-Mutedahib... even a copy of the Kitab al-Jabr wa-l-Muqabala in readable condition." The Richemuloise professor ran his hand along the spines of the withered old works. "Yes... I think I can occupy myself for a while. Make yourselves comfortable gentlemen, we will be here a bit."

The Barracks, Level Four, Keep
May 26th, 761, 12:08 PM; Day 70 of the Menetnashte Expedition

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"Looks like someone's got to uphold the honor of Mordentish ghost stories, after that beauty." Edmund rumbled, peeking under the tent flap to check if the old professor still slept, and still lived for that matter. Pelletier dreamed on, oblivious to all else.

"Well, I heard this old tale in Mordentshire from a sailor friend of mine, sails with the Carlyle Trading Company. A few years ago, a ship of theirs went up to the Finger around Lamordia, with a crew of a hundred and fifty, to hunt seals. Well, they put fifty two men on the ice flows to hunt seals, but just a few hours later, one of the blizzards of Lamordia came up, and it blew for two days straight. Fourty-seven men were found dead afterwards, and five presumed to be drowned. It was a sad ship that headed back to Ludendorf. The sailors said she was unlucky."

"Well, Carlyle's not the type to let this happen, so he had the ship rebuilt, and renamed to the Venture, and two years after that Legion-sent storm, it went back up to the Finger."

"Up there she met another ship, out of Martira Bay, called the Legacy. Dusk fell and a fog rolled in, and the crew of the Venture heard the Legacy ringing her bell to say that she still had men out on the ice. As ships up there did, the Venture started blowing it's whistle, and those above deck could hear voices calling out from the Finger and presumed them to be sailors from the Legacy. The two ships kept up ringing their bells till midnight, when the voices ceased and everyone was thought safely aboard ship."

"Next morning, a sailor from the Venture boarded the Legacy to trade some supplies. The captain of the Legacy asked the sailor what time the members of the Venture crew had gotten aboard the previous night. The sailor was confused. "We didn't have anyone out on the Finger, sir," he told the captain. But the captain and his crew swore that they had seen several men board the Venture a bit before midnight."

"When the sailor got back to the Venture, he talked to his captain. The captain took him aside and told him the story was true. A few members of the night crew saq five men climb aboard the Venture just before midnight. They wore tattered clothing that looked as if it had been ripped and worn out by the waves of the sea, and the crew could see right through their shining bodies. One of the sailors on duty that evening had been on the Venture when she lost the fifty-two men two years ago that very night. He had recognized the faces of the ghosts as those belonging to the five men who were lost. They'd finally come home."
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Post by steveflam »

Ishaq nearly jumps out of his boots when Jervis appears as if out of thin air. "By the Prophet!" he curses out loud. "Effendi Jervis you frightened me as well as the others. What are you doing here alone? Shouldn't you be with someone?" Ishaq asks.

Out loud he says "It is merely Effendi Jervis, Effendi's. Though he is alone." He says to Jervis "Would you care to investigate with us? Strength in numbers is a good thought, they say."
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"Whoof! A relief, yes, quite a relief." Otto's posture immediately snapped into a new configuration, along with his mindset; he...well, bustled into the room rather like an uncle calling on relatives for tea, only sweatier and with a torch.

"Do not worry about Jervis' safety, Herr Ishaq: he..." (a pause, and a quick glance from one to the other) "...He can take care of himself. Yes."

--Though it'd be nice if he INDICATED his PRESENCE to his ALLIES once in a--

--Don't say that.


Another short pause, this one only mildly awkward.

"...Still and all, sir," (this to Jervis, with a broad smile) "if you are not minding our company, then perhaps we may indeed assist with your searching, yes? What have you found thus far...aside from useless weaponry, that is?"
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Post by DocBeard »

Tomas is allready inside the room when Jervis reveals himself, sword raised. Uncharacteristicly, he doesn't even apologize to the surly guard, raising an eyebrow at the scavenging...

...and as a cover for a quick application of the Sight. Just in case this place is playing tricks on them...
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The Armory, Level Four, Keep
May 26th, 761, 12:14 PM; Day 70 of the Menetnashte Expedition

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The Whistler wrote:"...Still and all, sir," (this to Jervis, with a broad smile) "if you are not minding our company, then perhaps we may indeed assist with your searching, yes? What have you found thus far...aside from useless weaponry, that is?"
"I mind." Jervis transfixed the trio of explorers with a flat glare. Somehow, despite being probably the shortest of the four men, he didn't seem the weakest. Shrugging, he answered the second half of Otto's question. "Nothing to find, but look if you want to waste the time."

And with that, the mercenary shouldered his way past the three explorers, casting a particularly derisive glance at Tomas with his still-outsretched sword.

"Careful around here." The mercenary called back over his shoulder, heading towards the main building. "Never know who you'll find."
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Post by Rock of the Fraternity »

Lia sighs -- and closes her book, putting it securely away in her pack before slinging that over her shoulder and rising. She twists her right leg to and fro a few times, as if testing it, then pulls her cane from her pack's straps.

"Right," the Mordentishwoman says in a brisk tone of voice. "I grew up not a day's travel from a haunted cemetery, not to mention the ruins of Gladstone's Tower. Therefore, I do hope you gentlemen will excuse me if I prefer not to while away the day listening to ghost stories; they tend to upset me a little. I'm going to find the top of this building so I can look back along our tracks, see whether the confessors have managed to track us -- and whether that freakish sandstorm is closing in or not.

Not to worry, please continue your story session. I'll take care of myself. I have refreshed my store of spells and my pistol is dry and loaded once more." Lia briefly pats her holstered weapon and sets off for the stairs. The metal heel of her cane clicks and chimes against the grime-covered stones, striking a few sparks as she goes.
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