Empty Spaces [IC]

[ylvathrall]

Mister Vanilla very nearly connects with Blackhands with his morningstar, but the monk twists away and avoids the blow at the last moment. The same cannot be said of Vanilla, who rather dramatically fails to avoid the blows that are directed his way. He goes down under the blows of the monks, and does not rise again. Blackhands strikes him again, snuffing out his life as quickly and simply as he might extinguish a candle.

In a truly stunning development which could not have been foreseen by anyone, Master Lock vanishes in the instant that Vanilla dies, his jewelry clattering to the ground. No one could possibly have expected this, and the monks seem to be startled by his absence, those who were surrounding him even feeling around in the air in case he is merely invisible.

Blackhands, though, bows his head for a moment over the body of Mister Vanilla in silent prayer. He then looks at our surviving heroes, who now number only Peregrin and Rose. "May we stop now?" he asks, in the weary tone of a man who feels the weight of the world on his shoulders. "There has been too much death already, and there will be more before the day is done."

[stack]

Peregrin nods. "I was trying to stop it, but my companions, companions by chance or some design I cannot see rather than choice, seemed rather insistent on this end. Foolishness. Anyhow, from your words I take it that you intend to seek the splinter faction and stop them presently? Given your obvious prowess I fear I have little to offer you in such an endeavor, while we are embroiled in a mystery of our own." He shrugs and stands, waiting to see if blackhands or the voice produce any more useful information.

[The Hellbug]

This particular scene of violence is too much for Rose to take on the heels of her own demise. Panic grips her as her breathing becomes rapid and irregular. As each of her companions die, all she can do is slouch down the wall until she is seated on the ground, tears forming in her eyes despite herself. Medea, for her part, stays by the halfling's side, but her efforts to calm Rose down are in vain until Mitch finally falls.

Rose can only nod in response to Blackhands' question, but she soon gets enough control over herself to form a question, though each of her sentences is still punctuated by heavy, irregular breathing. "It was you, wasn't it? The other day. In the building we entered these passages through. You killed everyone, didn't you?"

[ylvathrall]

Spoiler: Peregrin and Rose

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Of course Peregrin realizes, as he speaks, that Blackhands doesn't appear to be confident of success in this battle without assistance; additionally, simple logic would suggest that the two factions of monks must be more or less evenly matched, else this small war would have been won long since.

Blackhands nods in response to his question. "I see no alternative," he says. "We must deal with this threat, now and forever, and we cannot afford to delay at this point. There's no telling how long it might take for them to destroy the seal."

A moment later, however, his attention is caught by Rose's question. The monk is clearly taken aback by this, eyes widening and drawing back slightly. From such a self-contained man, this reaction must clearly indicate some serious mental reaction. "What?" he says, in a tone of genuine surprise. "The only attack recently was on one of our buildings. The splinter group attacked and killed a number of us on their way to attack the seal. How do you even know about that?"

Spoiler: Kiyanna

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Left to its own devices, the mysterious agency responsible for Kiyanna's resurrection might have waited for a time before bringing kir back. On the occasion of kir first death, after all, it took several days for kir to return to the world of the living. But it is the nature of heroes (indeed, one might argue that it is the definition of the term) to be in the right place at the right time, and the right time to decide the outcome of the situation happens to be right now.

Thus, the time which passes between Kiyanna's departure and return on this occasion is better measured in minutes than days.

Ki awakens in kir natural form, splayed out upon the stone. For a moment ki feels phantom pain in the side of kir head, where the monk's foot split kir skull open like an overripe melon, and ki can almost see the woman standing over kir as kir blood spills out upon the floor.

But no. It is only a memory, a lingering thought of the final moments of a former life. When ki feels kir skull at the temple the bone is whole, the skin unbroken, even the fur unmussed. Ki isn't even in the same chamber, though ki is still underground, a fact which might reasonably inspire a certain fear in kir. Fortunately, despite being underground in a small, enclosed, entirely unlit chamber, recently dead and cut off from any ally, having just received an object lesson in what the entirely predictable consequences of kir foolish decisions can be, knowing that kir previous death brought with it a terrible loss and with no way to guess what similar cost might be exacted on this occasion...despite all this, Kiyanna keeps kir head.

Truly, the stuff heroes are made of.

Being such a stoic and unshakable paragon of logic over emotion, Kiyanna swiftly realizes that the rough-cut stone and narrow feel of the room ki is in is familiar, making it very likely that ki is still in the tunnels of the Brothers of the Seal. In fact, ki is actually only a short distance from the seal, and could likely reach it in a matter of minutes if ki could find the correct tunnels and bypass the obstacles and traps which the monks have built over the course of centuries to protect it from outsiders.

Spoiler: Juma

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Left to its own devices, the mysterious agency responsible for Juma's resurrection might have waited for a time before bringing him back. On the occasion of his first death, after all, it took several days for him to return to the world of the living. But it is the nature of heroes (indeed, one might argue that it is the definition of the term) to be in the right place at the right time, and the right time to decide the outcome of the situation happens to be right now.

Thus, the time which passes between his death and his resurrection on this occasion is better measured in minutes than days.

Juma awakens lying upon the stone, hands folded upon his chest like a corpse laid in state. He is in the dark, though this hardly matters; the darkness is his natural environment, after all, and the blades in his arms see the darkened recesses as his absent eyes never could. He is flat on his back on an altar of sorts, in an empty chamber cut from the stone. The rough-cut walls and floor and ceiling are all blank, unmarked by any sort of symbol to show what this room's purpose might be.

Another man might panic, awakening in such circumstances, with the memory of his death still so fresh, broken and bleeding and gasping for a breath that will not come. Our hero, martyr that he is, may perhaps not feel such fear, but this only means that he is free to feel a deeper dread instead. On the occasion of his first death, his return was marked by an absence, his life excised from the world as neatly as a surgeon might remove a tumor from the body of his patient. Thus, Juma is surely aware that there will be a price for this as well, for in this world there is always a price to pay.

For the moment, however, he realizes that he is likely still in the tunnels of the Brothers of the Seal. In point of fact, he is actually quite close now to the ancient seal itself, and a sufficiently dedicated man might well be able to reach it from his current position.

Spoiler: Mister Vanilla

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Left to its own devices, the mysterious agency responsible for Mister Vanilla's resurrection might have waited for a time before bringing him back. On the occasion of his first death, after all, it took several days for him to return to the world of the living. But it is the nature of heroes (indeed, one might argue that it is the definition of the term) to be in the right place at the right time, and the right time to decide the outcome of the situation happens to be right now.

Thus, the time which passes between his death and his resurrection on this occasion is better measured in minutes than days.

Mister Vanilla awakes not in the dark but in the light, with the taste of blood upon his lips. He is lying on his back on the stone, and around him the mad carnival of Oriat spins on as it always does, unconcerned with any propriety save its own.

See light blazing a blue that can only be born of magic, that uncomfortable blue light at the far end of the spectrum that makes his eyes hurt to see, his brain dimly aware that more is striking the retina than it can comprehend. Hear music dominated by drums, pounding drums that drive a beat through the air, all else lost in the noise, screaming and shouting and talking and flirting all inaudible behind the music, and even within the music any rhythm or melody or harmony or lyric is lost to the throbbing dum dum dum that beats through the air as fast and heavy as the heartbeat of the people here. Taste salt in the air, sweat and blood, alcohol as biting as the sharpened teeth of the bartenders, smoke that clouds the mind as thickly as it does the air, thin slices of cucumber shaved away with a razor, sex and static and hunger.

It isn't really Mister Vanilla's sort of place.

His attention, though, is caught and arrested by something else.

There is a question to be asked, in Oriat. There is a question to be asked of the desperate and the lonely; it must surely spring to mind when one sees the hungry and the hopeless, the dancers and the whores, the lepers and loners and strangers. The question to be asked of the outcasts, of all those who end up on these streets because they find themselves unwelcome anywhere else, is: Do you believe that your heart has value?

Mister Vanilla, more than most of the residents of Kaer Maga, is equipped to answer that particular question. His is a life of numbers and logic; the dispassionate estimation of the value of the priceless is precisely what he has spent much of his life doing.

For him, then, the answer to this question must surely be "more so than it was before." Because when he looks at the flecks of blood upon his lips, he sees that it shines a touch too brightly to be just reflected light; there is a thickness to it, a consistency just slightly too viscous to be natural. He even sees, for a fleeting moment, a fleck of shimmering color within his blood that should not be there, for when is a fleck of gold dust ever a thing which belongs in the blood of a living being?

Deeply troubled by this development, Mister Vanilla decides that his first course of action must be to leave the dance club within which he awoke. Sadly for him, he is a stranger to the district of Oriat, and thus surely won't realize that this very club has a cellar, and in that cellar is an entrance to the tunnels of the Brothers of the Seal. This particular entrance is well-hidden, and even the monks themselves have forgotten its presence, leaving it almost unguarded as a result; an interested party who knew of it would find it to be a relatively simple and safe route by which to access the seal itself.

Spoiler: OOC

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Mister Vanilla keeps thinking that he hears this song. He's hearing intermittent snatches of music, not the song playing on a constant loop. No one else hears it, including the other PCs, and the voice does not comment on it.

Spoiler: OOC

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Kiyanna, Juma, and Mister Vanilla all have one negative level, and don't regain any abilities which are limited in uses per day which they've already used, but are at full health otherwise.

[The Hellbug]

Rose mirrors Blackhands' surprise, an event that actually helps her regain some of her composure. "Those were your enemies?" Rose asks back, getting to her feet as she does so, "I was there. I had been meeting with an order of monks--I guess it was yours-- about assisting with exploration of the passages beneath the city--nothing to do with your infighting. Now, I know you're not going to believe me about this next part, but the attackers at that building--they killed me, or, at least, that's what I thought. Whatever they did, I'm obviously still here, but not one person I've met can remember me from before that."

[stack]

Peregrin nods in support of Rose. "All of us in our little group, now diminished, appear to have died and been forgotten by all. We were...trying to figure that out. That led us here and to this...unfortunate circumstance. On the bright side, maybe the others aren't dead, though with their behavior if they are not I suspect they shall keep trying. I can come along with you, as apology for the others' rashness. If you are right, being in the city isn't safe anyhow, so I might as well learn something in the process." He stands and dusts off his pants, then shrugs.

[Bhaakon]

Spoiler: Mitch Vanilla, actuary with a heart of gold.

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For once, the voice and Mitch are in perfect agreement. This club was no place for him to be--ever. Narcotics, prostitutes, cucumbers, harlots, tastelessly harsh illumination and percussion-based music, no respectable adult would involve themselves with such things. Even the pursuit of profit had its limits, and hobnobbing with debauched colleagues, customer, or employers in such...establishments had always been well beyond Mitch's.

He should be angry. He knows this, somewhere, and not just because he found himself neck-deep in the fleshpots. Because the last thing he remembered, before being beaten into a mass of jellied flesh, was blood-tinged vision and a rage so white-hot that it seared away logic. It seemed so silly now, that anger. Rage was such an unprofitable emotion.

So were shock and fear, for that matter, feelings which Mitch easily dismisses as he dabs the blood from his mouth and looks down to see the unconventional additive. His heart should be racing at the sight, but the only beat in his ears is the annoying bass drum of whatever terrible band was on stage somewhere beyond the crowd of writhing forms. That and the intermittent interruption of another song completely at odds with the orgiastic dance beat. Clearly the manager of this club had bewildering tastes.

Somewhere inside Mitch knows that any sane person would be making a bee-line for a temple at this moment. It just wasn't normal to rise from the dead, to do so in an unfamiliar spot, or to see gold mixed in with ones body fluids, but Mitch just files these facts away for future consideration. These were hardly the only troubling things to happen in the last few days, and it's not as if he could go to the Bank of Abadar and request another audience.

No, the only answers he's going to find will be where the voice leads him. Why he died, what brought him back to life--twice now--and the purpose for doing so, how he can undo what's happened, how he can make an example of those who wronged him, the value of his heart. The last query seems oddly out of place, but Mitch doesn't question it as he shoulders brusquely through the press of bodies to reach the cellar.

Master Lock follows quietly, at a distance. His fingers devoid of jewelry, his face a mask of concern (though for himself or his employee, who can say).

[TheOneHawk]

Juma lays upon the stone for a time, listening to the voice's monologue and examining the room of his resurrection. Once the voice quiets he stands and begins marching back to the seal. As he goes, he speaks aloud in reply to the voice, though by now he knows better than to truly expect any reply. "You call me a martyr yet I cannot die, and you speak of a price to pay, voice, yet again give no explanation. You obviously have a stake in this, yet you hide the truth behind shadows and lies. Speak plainly lest your goals come even further into question than they already have."

[ylvathrall]

Spoiler: Rose and Peregrin

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"A fascinating story," Blackhands says, sounding genuinely interested. "And...yes, I can think of some members of my order who might have discussed that with you. As you see we do have extensive access to the Undercity, or at least to certain parts of it in this district. Though of course if you have been forgotten by everyone, it would be impossible to verify." The elder monk does not sound particularly doubtful of Rose and Peregrin's claims. This is a man who has spent a long lifetime dealing with some of the strangest things Kaer Maga has to offer, after all; to a man like Blackhands, what happened to them is not so unbelievable at all. "We'll have to compare notes, and see how extensive the effect is," he says. "But for the moment matters are still urgent. I will gladly accept your offer of assistance, sir; in our current state we cannot afford to turn down any help. We were just planning our counterattack when this...unfortunate incident interrupted us."

With no more mention of the recent deaths than that, he continues into outlining the plan. "As you see we still have a fair number of people," he says, gesturing at the monks in the room. "And there are more keeping watch on the enemy, and around our position here. If past encounters are any guide, we should be able to hold our own against this insurgent group." He pauses, making it clear that things aren't quite so optimistic as that sounds. "I am, however, very concerned about this sorceress they appear to have recruited. She obviously came prepared to fight us, and from what I saw before we were forced to retreat our usual tactics don't seem likely to work on her. She was also accompanied by a number of demons, which are frankly outside our area of expertise."

Spoiler: Mister Vanilla

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Fortunately for everyone involved Mister Vanilla, at least, appears to understand the nature of his situation, though he is perhaps slightly too hasty to completely dismiss the club in which he finds himself; while the vast majority of the people and entertainments within the establishment are poorly suited to his tastes, this club in particular has notably excellent baristas. It is admittedly unusual for them to serve coffee without another drug as an additive, but that does not negate the fact that they're genuinely good at what they do. It occurs to Mister Vanilla that he might find it calming, after such a stressful experience, to acquire a cup of his favored beverage.

In any case, the entrance to the cellars is easy to find, being directly behind the bar. Of course this entrance is not typically accessible to the average customer. Luckily, Mister Vanilla is not an average customer, not at all average. He is a man with a fine appreciation for the value of gold, an appreciation which the bartender happens to share, and perhaps this mutual admiration might form the basis of a passionate friendship. Alternatively, our hero's distaste for the entire establishment might just lead him to seek out a quiet corner of the room away from the dancers and the music, where he might just happen to notice a crack in the mirrored wall. Having noticed a crack, he might just happen to see that there is in fact a concealed door which leads to the cellar, having been installed for the use of the staff in the event that they needed to beat a hasty retreat for one reason or another.

Spoiler: Juma

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Our hero of course recognizes that his commentary on the qualities of the martyr is lacking, as he in fact can die, a fact which he just proved for the second time. Indeed, given that the vast majority of the living die but once, one might argue that he is twice as gifted at dying as most.

In any case, his objections notwithstanding and his apparent immortality irrelevant, Juma is indeed a martyr, in the classical sense of the word. Like Justice, and similarly blind, he bears witness. That he does not bear the price of his own life wholly upon his shoulders, but rather allows others to shoulder the burden for him, does not lighten that load. It occurs to him, in fact, that he should perhaps be less cavalier about incurring such prices, considering that a relative innocent has just died in his place.

But alas, our martyr is too busy questioning the motives of a voice in his head (which is of course a patently ridiculous thing that certainly does not exist) to have a care for his own safety, even knowing that a paranoid order of monks has had centuries to lay traps along all approaches to this seal. This in spite of the fact that if such a voice did exist it could only have helped him. Indeed, if such a voice did exist, it would surely be difficult for Juma to name an occasion on which it did lie to him or lead him astray. If anything, the disaster which so recently befell our heroes would seem to have resulted from them ignoring perfectly reasonable advice, rather than hewing too close to it.

[stack]

Believing information is most useful when shared, Quincy explains his capability somewhat, "Fighting sound frightfully like work and an Ardoc never does work that he can get out of with magic. I can temporarily create constructs from objects, enhance weapons and armor, and create such barriers as you saw a moment ago. All of these things require that I be close and my ability to do most of them is limited by me endurance, otherwise I would simply offer to enchant all of you weapons, not that you seem to favor weapons."

[The Hellbug]

Rose is pleasantly surprised at Blackhands' response to her, frankly, outlandish story. "I suppose I'm in, then," she says after a moment consideration, "I don't know why I'm back, but I don't even know why those monks killed me--if there was any reason besides the fact that I was talking with your order, I need to know why. It's as good a place to start as any." The halfling tries to sound confident and in-control as she speaks, but her frequent glances to her dead companions are more than enough to give away her nervousness at the whole situation.

In a further attempt to get her mind in a more productive place, she tries to discuss what's going to happen with Blackhands. "I can't say I have any expertise with demons, but I'm actually a sorceress, too. Not quite as handy as, say..." she almost mentions Juma but swallows his name away, "...you, for example, in a fight, but I have a illusions and enchantments that might help you all out."

[gravios]

Rose awakens together with her face pressed to cold stone street, the towering structures of this Warrens dwarfing the halfling woman. Having a moan, she pushes herself up as a sitting position and raises her hand to her chest, just above her sternum, where recently (no less than to her) her assailant's dagger was plunged..

[TheOneHawk]

Juma freezes in place the moment he hears the voice casually mention an innocent dying for him. He speaks very slowly, with both a hint of anger and fear in his voice. "What do you mean an innocent died in my place, voice. Is this truly how you will punish me for not following your plans, you will slay people undeserving of death?" He sighs and shakes his head. "There will be a reckoning for this, voice, but I cannot risk that your words are true. Their deaths will mark your soul when you are judged, and you will be found guilty, but I find myself with little option but to follow along. How should I proceed safely?"

[Bhaakon]

Spoiler: Mitch Vanilla

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Mitch freezes, confused by the smells, the lights, both strains of strange music...but mostly just the odd divergence of the voice in his head. He thinks back, trying to remember a time when it offered a non-linear suggestion. He fails. He tries to think of the possible significance of this, but his mental faculties let him down.

Regardless, it's easy to tell which of the two options he will choose. No level of skill in the coffee-brewing craft could possibly make him want to talk with a person who worked in this...establishment. He makes for the secluded corner and its promise of a discrete exit.

[ICN]

Kiyanna sat up slowly, thoughts whirling. Two different lifetimes flashed through her skull, bits of each falling away until things settled back into place. But... things weren't quite the same as before. Kiyanna could feel the differences. And some place called... Kitsune House? The voice's monologue breaks her out of her reverie. Ha! Those bloody monks couldn't kill her! She stood up with alacrity and bounce, brushing off her clothes with a quick swipe of her paw. For a moment, she considered her options. But really, there was only one choice. She had died for it, after all. But... possibly some care was warranted. In a tiny whisper, Kiyanna asks a question of the darkness. "Hey voice, time for you to make amends for getting me killed. Which way from here, and what skin do I wear?"

[ylvathrall]

Spoiler: Rose

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"More of us rely on weapons than you might think," Blackhands says to Peregrin. "And in any case, if you can create walls of that sort, I think you might be very helpful in the tunnels, where your barriers will be most able to confine the enemy. The focus of our efforts must be on the seal itself, but there will be considerable fighting to be done in the tunnels surrounding it."

"For your part," he continues, turning towards Rose, "if you know something of magic, I would prefer to have you with us in the main attack force. You might be able to do something about the sorceress they brought and her demons. I confess, I know relatively little about how to deal with such things."

Spoiler: Juma

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Of course Juma realizes that the circumstances surrounding his resurrection, though highly unusual, are the same as any other phenomenon, that is to say, they are governed by rules. Those rules might not be immediately obvious, and it may initially seem to be random, but that doesn't mean that they don't exist. The voice in his head (if such a thing exists, which it obviously can't; the mere notion is patently absurd) is no more responsible for those rules than he is himself.

In any case, and leaving such philosophizing aside, our martyr realizes that the best way for him to proceed is with care. This hall is less trapped than many in these tunnels, being intended for the use of the monks themselves, and those traps there are are marked clearly: a slight redness to the floor shows where the traps' triggers lie.

Spoiler: OOC

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As a reminder, darkvision is black and white only, so you can't actually see different colors clearly.

Spoiler: Mister Vanilla

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Of course Mister Vanilla chooses to avoid the bartender, as anyone familiar with the man would have guessed. Indeed, it hardly seems to be a guess; the notion that he could, presented with such options, make any other choice, is ridiculous, even absurd. It hardly even merits being called a choice.

In any case, he easily finds the hidden door and slips down into the cellars without being noticed. Below, he is in an extensive storage space filled with all manner of goods, the majority of which Mister Vanilla would prefer not to contemplate. By some chance, though, he is actually familiar with the surroundings of the entrance he is looking for. The secret entrance to the depths lies among the racks of expensive wines. The trigger itself is underneath one of the racks, where a small tile in the floor is almost-invisibly raised; a light pressure applied there will open the secret door. Once on the other side, though, Mister Vanilla will once again be in the domain of the monks, with all that implies.

Spoiler: Kiyanna

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Kiyanna quickly realizes that what ki is thinking actually belongs to a different continuity entirely, and that such things should be kept to a minimum. Not that ki has any idea what that means.

In any case, Kiyanna also observes that after leaving the gallery ki is currently in by the only accessible exit, there are two directions ki could go. To the left the path is longer than if ki goes right, but also less heavily trapped, making it possibly safer.

[TheOneHawk]

Juma massages his temples and shakes his head at the voice's entirely useless help. "Red. Yes. I can see colours so very clearly. Thank you for your assistance." He then begins marching down the tunnel, looking for any difference in shade on the ground.

[ICN]

Hmmph. Continued antagonism it was then. Like Kiyanna even needed that hack narrator. They sounded just like the worst student in her dramatic reading class. But Kiyanna had beaten death twice now! She could do anything! As always though, it first began with the skin. She'd need something sleek but toned, perfect for sneaking but capable of convincingly posing as a monk if the need arose. She quickly leafed through her mental files until she had the perfect candidate. Then came the outfit. Kiyanna pulled out a few scarves and swiftly arranged them into the perfect garb for this endeavor. She pulled out her prop, a ten foot pole perfect for checking for traps, and took a deep breath before the show. Perfect. Poised and fabulous, Kiyanna cautiously started down the left path, tapping the way ahead as stealthily as possible and watching carefully.

Spoiler: OOC

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Stealth roll: (1d20+2)[13]
Perception: (1d20+6)[13]

[Bhaakon]

Spoiler: Vanilla

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Mitch pauses at the wine rack that hides the hidden entrance, his boot hovering above the door's trigger with indecision. The voice was right. The monks were on the other side of the door, and even through the red haze of rage he could recall how easily they'd dismantled him. Fear might not be quite so acute in his current state, but that hardly equated with a death wish.

"Well, then, voice." He declares aloud. "It would be foolish to enter alone. Tell me where the others are and I'll find them."

Master Lock hides at the bottom of the stairs leading down into the cellar, cringing as Mitch attempts to converse with the auditory hallucination. "This is becoming an obsession. We should leave it. Find something more profitable to do." He mutters, low enough that his material landlord can't hear.

[The Hellbug]

Rose hesitates before answering. "Just know that I may only be as useful for my knowledge as I am for my magic--it's not suited for violence," she finally says, "I can barely be responsible for our own safety, let alone anyone else's, if these monks are as tough as I think they are, but I'll accompany you. It's probably my best chance to find out what you and they wanted with me in the first place."

[ylvathrall]

Spoiler: Juma

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In an event he should very likely have seen coming (just our little joke, of course), Juma steps on one of the mechanical trigger plates. He feels a slight shift in weight as the tile depresses under his foot, and hears a faint click from beneath as the mechanism engages. He does not, however, have time to dodge as a metal scythe swings out at his chest height, driven by all the force the spring-driven mechanism can put behind it. A faint glistening along the blade's edge suggests that the monks keep the poisons on these traps fresh.

Luckily, a simple process of logic is enough to inform our martyr that the traps are likely set in a rather random pattern along the floor, and so long as he continues in a perfectly straight line he should be safe to the end of the hallway.

Spoiler: OOC

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Juma is attacked by a scythe trap. I believe that he's flatfooted against this attack, since he didn't see the trap.
Attack: (1d20+20)[27]
Damage: (2d4+6)[8]
On hit, he has to make a DC 18 Fortitude save or take (1d2)[2] Dexterity damage. This is a poison effect.

Spoiler: Kiyanna

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Kiyanna sees no one as ki proceeds down the hallway, and while kir tapping pole encounters some slight irregularities in the floor, they seem to be more the result of poor maintenance than actual traps. Ki safely navigates to the end of the hall, where ki is once again faced with a split in the path. To kir left, the hall turns into a tight, curving staircase, leading sharply downwards. To kir right, on the other hand, a more shallow set of steps leads upwards.

Naturally, being far too wise to venture into the Undercity alone and unprepared, ki turns right.

Spoiler: Mister Vanilla

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Of course Mister Vanilla realizes that the rest of the recently deceased are below him, and likely to stay there, as they have no reason to proceed to his current location. Furthermore, he naturally observes that the chance of encountering the monks themselves is minimal, as this particular entrance to their tunnels is a disused one; the most he likely has to worry about are traps, which are likely to be in somewhat poor condition.

Spoiler: Rose

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"Thank you," Blackhands says seriously. "If you have no objections, I would proceed in no. There is little to gain by waiting, and possibly much to lose, if this sorceress does find a way through the seal. They will have scouts in the surrounding tunnels, ready to flank us; my brothers and sisters will take care of them, with your associate's help. That leaves the way clear for you and I, along with a select group of my order, to proceed to the chamber of the seal itself."

[TheOneHawk]

Juma doesn't even flinch as the blade slices into his arm and warm blood begins to flow down to his fingers and drip in a steady stream to the floor. Another cut, soon to be another scar among many, was of little concern. Pain, likewise, had been his constant companion for a lifetime and in many ways it was more like seeing and old friend than something to be avoided. He continues his march forwards towards the end of the hallway in silence, leaving a spatter of red blood along the floor behind him with no more concern than a millionaire accidentally dropping a copper piece.

[The Hellbug]

Rose nods at Blackhands' plan. Normally, she the accompaniment of such able warriors would put her at ease, but the monks' own state of worry has her anxious. Also, she hasn't decided on whether the swiftness with which they had slain her more aggressively-minded companions is calming or not. Either way, she gives one last wave to Peregrine with a more-grim-than-she-had-planned, "good luck," before following Blackhands and his companions deeper into the tunnels, Medea trotting faithfully but cautiously at her heels.

[Bhaakon]

Mitch nods. "Finally useful for once." He mutters, then turns to where his erstwhile 'employer' is lurking like a pickpocket.

"Would you quite mind opening this door and proceeding ahead of me." He asks Lock in the sort of commanding tone that belies the specific wording of the supposed request. "I'd rather not have to deal with any more...costly resurrections, and something tells that that isn't a problem for you, Master." The sarcasm drips off the title like fat off a roasting hog.

"Er...that is...yes. Yes, I supposed I could, seeing as you Just this once" Master Lock shuffles forward, clacking his knuckles together nervously, and frowning when there's no jingle of rings striking one another. His jewelry was gone again, the second set in the last...day, was it? Anyway, they were still somewhere in those warrens, probably marinating in a puddle of sewage. The phantom groans piteously at the thought of his plummeting net worth.

Mitch summons up a glowing light without hardly thinking about it, then opens the passage. Lock proceeds him cautiously, twenty feet ahead and stepping gingerly for fear of triggering some insidious device.

Spoiler

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Lock will check for traps visually as well as physically. Perception: (1d20+6)[26]

[ICN]

Kiyanna faces the staircases smugly, successfully proving herself more than a match for the trapped hallway. The voice had called them mere irregularities instead of traps, but the truth was obvious. Kiyanna pondered the choice before her briefly, then chose the staircase going up. She was capable, confident, and that one was big enough so that she could keep poking ahead with her stick.

[ylvathrall]

Spoiler: Juma

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Juma may not care about the pain, or the blood that flows like summer rain from the wound. He cannot, however, so easily dismiss the dangerous numbness that spreads from the wound as the toxin the blade was coated in begins to infiltrate his body.

In any case, he continues forward without triggering any other traps, and soon emerges from the hallway. The next section of the tunnel is a grander one, the vaulted ceiling arching well overhead. The stone is cut with strange iconography, runes and symbols the meaning of which has long since been lost to the sands of time. Strangely shaped stone slabs are arranged around the room, their placement not seeming to conform to any pattern that Juma can readily see. Some of them bear ancient corpses on them, some of which are little more than dust. Galleries branch off the main hall at irregular intervals, lined with sarcophagi.

As Juma walks, he begins to realize that he is in a crypt, one which has been in use for a very long time. The further he goes, the fresher the bodies are; by halfway down the hall the corpses are fully intact, and not far after that the slabs and galleries are both empty.

At the end of the hall is a door, though that term seems almost insulting for such an impressive portal. The doorway is far larger than a man, as though constructed to house giants; built from a single massive slab of some shimmering metal, the door is cut with more runes and symbols. From the other side, Juma can vaguely hear voices, though the language they're speaking is unfamiliar to him.

Spoiler: OOC

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Yeah, that'll be another save against the poison.

Spoiler: Rose

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Rose continues with Blackhands and his brothers and sisters through the halls and tunnels, following a winding course that loops back on itself several times. The monks seem perfectly confident following the twists and turns deeper into the earth, though the path is complex and there seems to be little to distinguish one part from another.

This goes on for some time, a quarter of an hour at least. As they get closer, monks begin peeling off in small groups, going down branching tunnels to either side to eliminate the scouts set by the splinter faction.

Finally Blackhands pulls to a stop, turning to the left to face down a long, wide hall. At the end of it is a tall, wide stone door, carved with strange symbols and seeming odd in its proportions. "The seal is just ahead," Blackhands says, as the other monks fan out across the hall. "Are you prepared?"

Spoiler: Mister Vanilla

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Lock sees a pair of traps on the stairs, both rigged to pressure plates. He and Mister Vanilla are easily able to avoid them by the simple expedient of skipping the trapped steps. The staircase continues down into the depths, following a simple pattern. Each step is precisely nine and one-half inches in height; every thirteen steps is a landing, after which the steps double back and descend another thirteen steps. Eleven of these landings pass before he reaches level ground. In front of him he sees a long hall that ends in a small, barely-visible stone door.

To his, right, however, he sees something more immediately arresting: another person is approaching up a long ramp. It looks at first like a stranger, but of course Mister Vanilla recognizes that it is in fact Kiyanna, once again exercising kir shapeshifting abilities.

Spoiler: Kiyanna

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Kiyanna wisely decides to proceed upwards, and follows the shallow staircase leading that direction. She finds no additional traps on the path, and has no difficulty along the way. After a few minutes the staircase becomes more even shallow, eventually fading into a ramp. At the top of that ramp she sees none other than Mister Vanilla, being proceeded by his enigmatic employer.

[TheOneHawk]

Juma, unlike the irritating voice in his head, remains silent in the house of the dead. This is not a place where speech belongs, it is a fool who disturbs the rest of those long dead, for one could never know when they might rise again. Once he reaches the massive door, he shoves it open with his uninjured arm and steps into the room.

Spoiler: OOC

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(1d20+7)[26]

[ICN]

Kiyanna stops dead, staring at Mister Vanilla while explanations raced through her head. Maybe she had died, and been doomed to an eternity of torment... But no, it was hardly Kiyanna's fault if some people didn't know their roles and needed some help remembering the lines. Perhaps she had triggered a trap, and this was some sort of alternate nightmare realm. No, that couldn't be it either. She was dressed for success and fabulous, no way she had made a mistake. Kiyanna pokes Mister Vanilla with her stick, then nods. That possibility could be safely dismissed.

She wracked her brain, struggling for answers, and suddenly found one. The voice. It had caused this. It was a cruel and sadistic being that was clearly out to get Kiyanna personally, which could only mean one person: Sila Rulthric. Kiyanna nods; it fit. Nobody else could see it, but she knew the truth. The generous gifts to charity, the perfect looks, the charming demeanor and kind word for everyone were all an act. Kiyanna had heard the condescending note in her praise, seen the secret sadistic smiles when Sila thought nobody was looking, and had acted. Sila couldn't take her vengeance in turn, not directly, for that would've spoiled her reputation. So it seems she had instead turned to the blackest of magics to insidiously invade Kiyanna's mind and conjure up this oaf to plague her.

Kiyanna smiles a quick smile. She had the upper hand now; she knew what was going on. No point in letting them know that she knew yet though. Kiyanna mused for a moment, and decided that playing the part of a friend would be the best way to fool them into thinking their ruse was working. It would be a change of pace from her previous behavior, but the smelly oaf would probably be too dense to find it suspicious. Kiyanna put on her best simpering idiot face and threw herself into a hug with Mister Vanilla, exclaiming "Oh," she paused for a moment. What was his name? "Twitch, I'm so happy you're here! I was so worried!" The contact was a bit too much though; Kiyanna had to fake a coughing fit to cover the retching as she pulled away hastily. "Sorry, so much... dust? I guess? down here, couldn't help it. What's happened to you though?" Kiyanna pats an arm this time, almost perfectly covering the wince as she did so.

Spoiler: OOC

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Bluff: (1d20+14)[22]

[The Hellbug]

Rose merely nods before focusing on the knowledge stored within her ring. With a quick incantation, she conjures into existence an invisible barrier, ready to be interposed between the halfling and danger. Next, she goes to her pack, trying to decide which of her scrolls contained within would be useful. Her hand pauses for a moment on the one that will allow her to merge her familiar into her own body but decides against it--apparently Medea's own sense had been enough last time. However, it does force her to consider something.

Resetting her backpack and with scroll in hand, Rose turns to her familiar. "You know," she confesses, "if you don't want to go in there, I don't blame you. I don't even know how you got away last time, but it might be safer if you left; I can find you again once it's over."

Medea's answer, however, requires no consideration. "No, not even a question. Foolish as this is, neither of us can deny there's some connection between us, and I don't care to find out what happens if you actually die. No, I think you need my supervision."

These words come as a relief to Rose, who had not relished the prospect of being in a battle surrounded by total strangers on each side. "Okay, then. Just stick close to me, and we'll both get through this." With that, she casts another spell, and Medea disappears from sight, though Rose can still feel the fox's presence at her side.

Spoiler: OOC

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Casting shield on Rose and invisibility on Medea. The prepped (as in out-of-the-bag) scroll is Web.

Spells cast: 1:1 2:1

[Bhaakon]

The steps with the pressure plates are easily avoided, stupid machines that present no challenge to the observant and the careful. They're not traps, not really, just formalities. Good form, if you will. A token effort to serve as a warning of dangers to come.

Like the danger slinking up the ramp to his right. A skeletal, mangy, flea-bitten woman in cat fur. Or was it a cat in human guise? Whatever they called themselves, they were clearly the result of some sort of unspeakably debauched wizard.

Not this one, specifically, though. She might be wearing a different hide, but he'd have recognized kir even without the voice giving it away. The way ki talks does indeed make Mitch twitch, he left cheek, specifically, with some involvement of the associated eyelid. Ki might have tried to hide it, but kir disgust was every bit as obvious. Of course it would make sense for a such a...creature to be sickened by what it lacked. Like a starving man who vomits out his first substantial meal.

"I was banished to a foul hellhole, and dug deeper at the voice's incistance." Mitch answers, after a pregnant pause. "And found you."

He turns from the annoyance and continues down the long hall before him, nearly hauling open the door at the end before pausing.

"Lock." He says, his tone lacking even the pretense of subservience. "Open the portal." Mitch takes a few steps back, giving some space in case a trap triggers as the phantom does as instructed.