Players: Philokrates, Chronos, Azami, Cold Obsidian

Run By: Soldier of Misfortune (4xp)

Synopsis: An amusement park gone horribly wrong from the First Age, explored by brave Solar explorers! And one Lunar.

 

 

Ask any traveller, and they'll tell you that little towns are your best friend. So long as you don't come in with weapons drawn, they won't likely ask questions, they'll serve you if you can pay, and they're great places to rest as you go from Epic Quest to Epic Quest. All in all, great rest stops.

The town of Myri is no different. A bit on the large side - a hamlet, perhaps - but it's still a nice place in the Hundred Kingdoms to stop by for a bite. The Yeddim Inn is a good place to stop and get a bite to eat, as the sign so advertises - A GOODE PLAYC TU STOP AND GYT A BYTE TU EET - and the people are friendly and pleasant, always willing to give a wave to travellers.

Philokrates is a-travelling himself, for once having entrusted his ward, Dreams of Elsewhere, to someone else. Specifically, the dragon kings of Crystal Fang Spire. Why is he out a-travelling? Well, he brings with him a doctrine that he intends to spread. But it is not safe or wise for him to be among the people of the village overmuch - he becomes a rumor, a golden figure that watches from the distance and casts forth coins, calling for bread.

-= OOC =- Chronos says, "Are other people walking around outside the inn, or is it deserted?"

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "There are people walking about freely in the streets."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "It's a pretty big town."

Cold Obsidian has been asked to do a favor for the village of Crystal Fang Smile: Follow Philokrates around and try to shoo people away from him if they start talking too much. So far, it's been a fairly straightforward job, but he could definitely use a drink. Sitting at a table, Cold nurses something vaguely alcoholic back to health while listening for the tell-tale sounds of someone being beaten to death. Not that it'd bother him, but there's the town's reputation to uphold.

As people approach the Yeddim Inn, a treebranch rustles. And then it stops. A bountifully bosomed maiden stops and tilts her head as she listens, turning around to look at the tree. There's a quiet 'whup!' and a golden flash drops down out of the sky behind her. As the woman turns back around, her wide-brimmed bonnet cocking the other way, she scratches her hat in confusion before suddenly a man with a golden ninja cowl springs up behind her, "STOP IN THE NAME OF SOL INVICTUS!!"

The woman screams and falls over, turning to look at the man in a bright gold combat gi with his arms folded and his stance powerful, "You, Innocent Citizen of This Fair Nation (whose name i do not yet know) Do You Know the Good News About Sol Invictus?!)" The man turns his head a bit, his golden eyebrows furrowing at the stern question. Daiklaves are crossed upon his back, and an array of knives line his belt, thighs, shins, and arms.

As the woman gapes silently, he takes a sudden step forward, "Have You?!" He then whips about in a blur, performing a martial arts kata as he vaults around the lady, littering the ground with small pamphets about the worship of Sol. "Lo! You Are Now Saved (fair woman of nation whose name i do not know). I Am Off!" Backflipping repeatedly, he hops back up into the street, disappearing.

Hunting Mist walks out of a long dark tunnel that shimmers away to nothingness a moment later.

Cold Obsidian sneezes liquour out of his nose in surprise.

Outside the Yeddim Inn, sitting quite comfortable in the fresh air and sunshine, Azami can be spotted. She looks like she's been on the road for a month, and is currently brushing her long white hair with a bone comb while she waits for her food. A satchel hangs across her chest and she is dressed in clothes of Northern fashion, though the fur parka is nowhere to be seen, only a beautiful kirtle that reaches her knees and fine tall boots. There are leaves in her hair, and it rather looks as though she's been sleeping in a tree.

The sudden and comical arrival and departure of the stealth-strike Sol Patrol causes her to stare and drop her comb, mouth falling open.

Upon the woman's scream and collapse, several of the townspeople move to pick her up. With the somberness of a procession they lift her, moving her away from the site and into the streets, until they disappear down an alley.

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "There are no markings, and no townspeople move to stop them."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "(As in, nothing to distinguish these townspeople from any other.)"

Azami STARES. "...I should not be so surprised," she finally manages aloud, gaping.

-= OOC =- Chronos follows the dudes who carry the woman away.

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Unfortunately, upon the actual turn into the alley, they're gone."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "I mean quite literally 'gone'."

Cold Obsidian coughs a few times, wiping his mouth and nose with his sleeve. He doesn't realize the chicanery with the missing girl yet, still a little disoriented. Liquor up the nose ////burns//.

'Whup!' A golden flash springs from another tree, and the golden ninja hup-hup-hups up to the edge of the alleyway. Placing a hand upon the hilt of one of his daiklaves, he peers into the alleyway...and looks around, confused. Straightening up in surprise, the Ninja Priest 'hawh-hawh-hawh's as he backflips repeatedly back to the tree and vaults up into it like a golden blur. Nothing at all conspicuous there.

A few moments later, an iron shuriken ****ka-thwips** into Azami's table, bearing a note: 'HAVE YOU HEARD THE GOOD NEWS?' and on the reverse is a prayer to Sol for safe journeys.

Not knowing what else to do, Aza pats the choking Cold Obsidian helpfully on the back a few times in an anxious, uncomfortable sort of way, thinking that he's choking to death. Of coursse, when the shuriken -thunks!- into her table she jumps two feet up with a startled 'Kaaah!" and stands balanced precariously on her chair, ears back and eyes wide. "Kh-kh--- Gods-Damned Solars!" She gasps, and smoothes her kirtle skirts down over her ruffled petticoats.

-= OOC =- Azami was gonna investigate the alley, but had to react to that xD

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune cracks his knuckles.

Philokrates hears some hubbub in town. Normally this is when he turns around, walks away, and doesn't come back - usually this is his fault. But right now... Well, call it a hunch. He strides in to town, walking on polished calloused stumps at the end of tapered shins, eerie and inhuman in his poise atop splinters of bone.

-= OOC =- Philokrates has Hardness of Oak up, Anathema-to-None Attitude up, and will not use any instant charms unless necessary.

-= OOC =- Philokrates says, "Oh. And Judge's Ear."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Alrighty."

Cold Obsidian is given a few good whacks across the back. He pulls up his shirt to wipe at his mouth again, nodding and wheezing out a 'thank you' to Azami. Ah, a farmer's daughter -- a few fond memories momentarily float through Cold Obsidian's mind before he is abruptly startled by a shuriken.

"Wh!?" Cold half-vocalizes, and gets up. He looks around with moderate distress, moving out of the tavern to try to shoo off this blade-throwing lunatic. He is distracted when Philokrates starts to move into the area, torn between two impulses.

The door at the back of the inn opens, and the bountifully-bosomed young woman walks out, a smile on her face, as if nothing ever happened. She passes out the door to the inn, walking around the commotion politely and heading right back out into the town streets.

-= OOC =- Azami says, "Was that the same lady?"

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "It was."

The Golden Ninja is nowhere to be seen. He has utterly vanished. On the door to a bakery, a kunai ****whumps** into the wood, nailing a letter to it. Moments later another shuriken ****plunks** itself into a barrel sitting outside a cooper's shop.

Shortly after landing in the barrel, someone plucks the shuriken forth, holding it aloft and disappearing back into the cooper's shop. The baker's does the same, at the same time; the doors shut with a 'click' and a 'thud' as they lock from within, lights extinguished quietly.

Philokrates watches the people around him quietly move away. Warned, perhaps? Well, it is not so unfortunate. "Obsidian," he calls out. "What is going on?"

Philokrates totters towards the inn.

There is no inn.

Cold Obsidian watches the bouncy young lady walk out of the inn. Just because he knows better doesn't mean he doesn't like to look. He is brought out of his idle thoughts by Philokrates, who is always a startling person. "Oh! Ah," and Cold Obsidian turns toward the inn.

Cold Obsidian stares at nothing for a while, then comes to a conclusion.

"I ... don't have to pay my tab now?"

-= OOC =- Philokrates says, "Is this an Illusion effect, which makes me believe something that is not so?"

Azami watches the amply padded woman go by... then rises and turns to look at the Inn. Didn't she just get carried in a dead faint into the Alley? One hand rests its fingertips upon the table as her poison-green eyes scan the village. "Something goes on..." she murmurs in her pleasantly rough voice. She catches sight of Philokrates and glances at him briefly before turning her head back to the Inn.

"It's vanished!" she exclaims, the Skytongue accent making it sound queerly out of place.

Where once there was an inn, there is now nothing but a decrepit ruin. A signpost hangs off the door, and may once have held a sign, but no longer does it hold life; the windows are shattered, the walls are decrepit, and it looks like it's falling apart.

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "It's not, Phil - it's not an illusion effect."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "It is physically changing."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "The rest of the town does not seem similarly affected."

Philokrates strides in his odd fashion to the rubble, and drops to a low squat, examining the ruin more closely. "I assume that this rubble was not here moments ago?"

Sadly, Glorious Pontification of the World's New Day, otherwise known as Glorious Day, was in mid-leap when the tavern...ceased to be. The golden blur continues on like a comet right into the earth as the Ninja of Sol ****oofs** and lands on his head, rolling several times before landing on his duff. The ninja sits there, looking dazed for a moment with his multitude of blades and scrolls glinting in the light.

Philokrates glances to the ninja, considers asking - are you hurt? - but decides it's best not to risk it.

Cold Obsidian moves cautiously toward the ruin. "It was not," he says. "It was a tavern with people inside of it, and now -- what is this?" Academic curiosity starts to bubble in Cold Obsidian. Being careful not to touch the ruin, he begins to walk around it, looking for clues as to how this strange effect could have been manifested.

The ninja kickflips to his feet, suddenly backflipping repeatedly to exit the bounds of the ruined tavern. A hand on one of his daiklaves and his other with all but two fingers folded in near his chest, the golden-cowled missionary looks about warily. As a trio of adventurers seem unaffected by the unusual circumstance while everyone else is not, Glorious Day hunkers down as though to make a rushing attack and hup-hup-hups commando style towards the them.

Drawing his flashing golden blade of glass, he demands from behind his mask and hood, "Stalwart Heathens of the (nation whose name i do not have), Explain Yourselves At Once Lest Thee Taste Thine Bitter Ruin At Yon Sol's Glorious Golden Hands." Whirling the daiklave about in a whirlwind of motions, he brings it back to his side, blade up and held in both hands, "Despair Unenlightened, For Thou All Face Glorious Pontification of the World's New Day! Speak Thine Answers Swiftly!"

Azami wraps her arms around herself, fingers just peeking out of her overlong sleeves, and peeks into the ruins. Soft-soled boots crunch lightly on the loose rubble and her long white braid swings heavily off of her shoulder. "How very odd," she muses, stepping inside. Her petticoats rustle lightly as she walks past the shouting missionary. "Oh be quiet, you Dandelion!" She growls, annoyyed.

Cold Obsidian stops and puts up his hands, showing himself to be unarmed. "I was having a drink, you threw some knives, I went out to look for you, this happened."

Soldier of Misfortune has disconnected.

Philokrates manifests his golden weapon and points the glistening arc of Solar Fire at Glorious Day, and sternly commands, "Calm yourself. This is not the time or place for ostentatious acrobatics. If you declare yourself a servant of Sol," he declares, crown growing luminous, "You stand among brothers. You need not preach to us." He lowers his weapon, and gazes in to the dust again.

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "It's okay, just tell me what everybody was looking for."

"Like caterpillars," Azami murmurs to herself. “Solars popping out /everywhere/.”

-= OOC =- Cold Obsidian says, "Broadly I am looking for clues that might indicate some sort of sorcerous or thaumaturgic cause for this thing."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Hm. Gimme an Int + Occult check."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Anybody who's looking for clues."

(Judge) Cold Obsidian rolls Intelligence + Occult: [ -1- 2 3 5 6 9 9 <10> <10> ]

Resulting in 6 successes.

(Judge) Azami rolls Intelligence + Intelligence + Occult: [ -1- -1- 3 4 5 5 6 6 6 6 7 7 9 9 9 ]

Resulting in 5 successes.

Soldier of Misfortune pages: It is not, and has never been, sorcerous. It reeks of something akin to Necromancy, but it is not Necromancy, either. But if Azami looks closely, there are little black threads, gossamer, like spun obsidian, trailing down into the Inn.

Cold Obsidian wrinkles his nose disapprovingly at something he determines. As he makes his way back around to the front of the building, Cold stops and looks up intently at the battered sign of the rotted inn.

Glorious Day sheathes his daiklave, straightens up, and bows with fist in palm, "So Be It, Heathen Warrior. But I Warn Thee: Do Not Lie To Me For Mine Ears Are Blessed By Sol To Detect Falsehoods." Glorious Day twists about and kickflips over himself in a no-handed cartwheel through the air as he presents a scroll unraveled in a flash of movement before Azami's face. It is -filled- with microtext, "Behold The Good News Of Sol, Heathen, And Be Transformed in His Divine Glory." He then drops the scroll at Azami's feet and backflips away. "Now, Yon Heathens of Dirt and Darkness, What Didst Thou Do With Yon Tavern?"

The people continue going about their business, until the name 'Sol' comes up again. As one, the crowd stops and turns to look at the people outside the inn's ruins, staring at them blankly.

"Please go." Someone says, but it's impossible to tell who. The words ripple through the crowd like a wave, 'please go' sprouting up one by one until the words are indistinguishable from each other, a cacophany of mingling sounds and syllables blending and pulsing through the air.

Glorious Day is visibly getting under Aza's skin. She glares at him, and then steps over the pamphlet, eyes on the ground. Followwing some trail, she walks slowly after what she sees. The pleading sounds of the people wash over her and bring her to pause. Something is definitely up.

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Can I have Awareness + Perception please?"

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "From everyone."

(Judge) Chronos rolls 8: [ -1- -1- -1- -1- 2 4 5 9 ]

Resulting in 1 successes.

(Judge) Philokrates rolls Awareness + Perception: [ -1- 2 3 3 9 ]

Resulting in 1 successes.

(Judge) Cold Obsidian rolls Awareness + Perception: [ 5 6 9 ]

Resulting in 1 successes.

(Judge) Azami rolls Perception + Awareness: [ 3 4 4 4 5 7 8 9 ]

Resulting in 3 successes.

Soldier of Misfortune pages: There are little strings attached to each person, with what look like butterflies spinning them, on the backs of their necks; they dart behind the necks of the people when they noticed they're being looked at. They're as black as midnight.

Cold Obsidian squints and grimaces as the weird noises start to ring around him. "I think what I drank is starting to kick in," he mutters.

Glorious Day produces a small gray ball and throws it at the ground, creating a smoke cloud. A moment later he is flip-flip-flipping backwards and leaping into a tree to disappear. The scroll that Azami walked over is also gone.

The tree rots under Glorious Day's weight. The entire town seems significantly less pleasant now; it's gone from a nice small-time town to a smoking, rotted ruin. The people continue their assault of "please leave"s, starting to advance on the group.

Azami glances back... then steps over the rubble to stand next to Philokrates, not looking at the crowd of people. Her eyes are lowered. She goes to tiptoe to whisper in his ear, cool fingers just brushing his brown arm. "Phil, there are gossammer strings and butterflies. They are being controlled." she whispers.

Cold Obsidian sees the people advancing. He starts to move into a guard posture, moving back toward Philokrates. In a situation where you might need to kill a lot of people, it's good to be by an expert. "They're very polite," he says, for no particular reason.

Glorious Day oofs as he falls out of the treet. Drawing ten throwing knives, held very carefully, he scoot-scoot-scoots back towards the group, on the defensive. He narrows his eyes, raising his right fist full of blades.

The bountifully-bosomed young woman from earlier steps forward through the crowd as each and every one in unity shifts from "please leave" to "get out". The woman opens her mouth, crossing her arms in front of said bountiful bosom. "Get out," he urges, "You are not wanted here. This is our home. Not yours! Not yours!"

Her eyes roll back into her head slowly. "Get out," she intones again, "You are not wanted here. This is ours! Not yours! Not yours!"

Actually, I don't live here, Cold thinks, but keeps his comments to himself.

Azami steps back... then looks down at the ground again, a prickle going up her spine like static. Suddenly she bolts away from Philokrates and climbs over the stones, skirts kicking about her legs as she runs deeper into the ruins. "A stair!" She shouts in broken Rivertongue, rough contralto ringing out loud over the chorus of townsfolk. "Down!" And she dissapears, running down a flight of stairs into some sort of cellar or basement. Its as if the ground just swallows her up.

Glorious Day sheathes his blades and throws another smokebomb down on the ground as he leaps and vaults and rolls and flips until he is finally descending the stairs, "Glorious Sol's Wrath Shall Visit Back Upon Thy Breasts of Ingorance and Doom a Terrible Reckoning, Creatures Dark and Mysterious of (i really should ask someone where i am)." And then he is gone.

Philokrates promptly backs away from the eerie horde of droning minions - although a salvo of arrows is tempting, it seems unwise. He scuttles in to the darkness after Aza'ni, who he trusts to be wiser and more keenly aware of the subtleties than himself, and he does not object to pursuit by Glorious Day. "Cold Obsidian, follow! The Winter Rose knows well of these matters," he advises.

The bountifully-bosomed woman shrieks, and her shriek is echoed helplessly by each villager in the crowd as she jumps up and down, bouncing with rage at this turn of events. As the door of the cellar shuts behind the little group, the woman gives another scream of frustration, turning into the crowd.

As one, the crowd disappears, storms of obsidian-colored butterflies disappearing into the sky.

Downstairs, lights dance along the paths of the group, as though they were guiding the team down the corridors. Black gossamer webs dangle in the air from the ceiling, gleaming with reflected light from the First Age wonder somehow still operational after all these years.

The lights flicker a bit, as though they haven't been used in an aeon, giving the place an eerie, crackling sort of glow, inconsistent enough to allow the shadows to leap from wall to wall with unbroken joy.

Cold Obsidian doesn't need to be told twice! He hustles after Philokrates, watching the butterflies appear over his shoulder. He slows down as the group enters the passageway, studying the lights. What is going on here, he wonders. What ////is// this little village?

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Oh my -God- hate so much internet hate >_O"

-= OOC =- Azami says, "Welcome back! :)"

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "HAte hate hate hate HATE"

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Yeah..okay. Did you guys get my pose about the downstairs and the lights?"

-= OOC =- Cold Obsidian says, "Yup!"

-= OOC =- Philokrates says, "I could use a more elaborate description tho."

-= OOC =- Philokrates says, "I'm unclear what sort of environment I'm in. Enclosed hallways, stone walls?"

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "What would you like me to elaborate on?"

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Enclosed hallways."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Lights along the ground as a guide, lights along the top as lighting."

-= OOC =- Philokrates says, "Lights - crystal?"

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "The lights in the stone floor branch off to certain areas, but the doors seem to be unworkable; you need to break them down."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Looks that way."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Some form of decrepit First Age technology."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Something -really- decrepit. Not a recent invention, not even Usurpation."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Something that, quite literally, should not still be functioning."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "This isn't clean stuff - there are layers of dust everywhere, it hasn't been maintained. That it's working at all is a miracle. What it's doing under this town..."

Azami halts dead-sudden ahead of the others as the light closes off, then changes before them. The little No Moon reels slightly, her sensitive eyes covered by a hand at the unexpected change. "Khrr," she mutters, seeing starbursts. Ah, the failings of such sharp senses!

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Also, the cobwebs are obviously not normal."

Philokrates sweeps his hand through the cobwebs curiously.

They crumble into obsidian dust at the touch, falling along the ground and gleaming as they catch the light of the ceiling.

"This is not natural," says Cold, for the benefit of the audience. He sticks close to Philokrates.

Azami shakes the fallen crumbly cobwebs from her hair twitchily. Ugh! "Creepy!" She says, then looks around some more. "...Is this a manse? What do you think?"

There's a sound from the wall, and a voice long-since forgotten crackles to life. "Wel-wel-wel-wel-wel-wel-c-come. Wel-wel-wel-wel-come, Chi-ch-children of Sol. Wel-wel-wel-wel-c-come."

The voice drops off for a moment, nothing but a crackling sound filling their ears.

"Wel-wel-wel-wel-c-come. P-p-p-p-lease proc-cee-cee-cee-ceed." All but one segment of the floor-lights disappear, leading them straight down the tunnel.

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "To us, it would sound as though a record were jamming."

Aza's satchel twitches, and wiggles. A small blue cat with eyes as orange as pumpkins shoves his head out, letting the flap fall open, and peers out grouchily. It miaows, then climbs up to her shoulder and cleans its face. Azami swallows, glancing at Ozin... then looks at the other two. "This sounds like very much a bad idea," she offers.

Cold Obsidian follows the light anyway. "It is," he agrees.

Philokrates presses inward. "We have little to fear, I think," murmurs Philokrates. "Whatever horrors lurk in this place are likely as decrepit as the rest of it. Let us proceed without undue trepidation."

Azami hesitates... then follows along behind the two men, holding a silent conversation with her familiar as she goes. Ozin purrs... if a cat could snigger, one would most certainly believe that that is what it would sound like. Companionably butting his noggin against Aza's face to scratch and itch behind his ears, the blue cat encourages her on.

As they proceed down along the light trail, the voice attempts to speak again; however, the stutter is incomprehensible, leaving it little more than a disturbing backdrop to their footsteps as shadows play across the walls and lights flicker on and off, on and off.

Finally, the little team enters a huge, circular room, tall and deep and so broad as to be impossible to see across. None of the lights in the room seem to function, but as Philokrates, Obsidian, and Azami enter, some of the walls light up, unusual-looking things covered in black cobwebs brightening.

They are crystals. Huge, wall-mounted crystals, covered in the black obsidian cobwebs, and within the one nearest to the door is the bountifully-bosomed beauty from above ground. Her eyes are closed, her hair is splayed out within the crystal, and she is naked, but she is unmistakably the same girl.

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "The center of the room is impossible to see down into; however, the crystals nearby seem to also contain townspeople they met earlier."

-= OOC =- Philokrates says, "I fire up my anima to create light."

-= OOC =- Philokrates says, "Because I am a lamp."

-= OOC =- Cold Obsidian says, "Looking at the spooky crystals, can I figure out anything about them with a Lore check? This seems First Agey."

-= OOC =- Philokrates says, "I assist him, to provide him an extra die, if that's possible."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Gofer."

(Judge) Cold Obsidian rolls Intelligence + Lore + 1: [ -1- 2 3 4 5 5 5 6 8 ]

Resulting in 1 successes.

-= OOC =- Cold Obsidian says, "Yeah, I use my second Excellency on that to the tune of two more successes."

As Philokrates' banner blazes, the full scope of the room can be seen. All along the walls, people - townspeople, though a couple who look as though they aren't from this area. It's quite large, and extremely deep as well. At the bottom, there seems to be some sort of mass, though it's indeterminate exactly what it is.

A sign hanging from the sky proclaims this to be THE MYRI PARK OF INFINITE DELIGHTS - GET LOST IN A DREAM.

Philokrates says, "What strange fiction is this?"

Azami's fingers creep up to cover the dreamstone which rests in its black velvet choker about her milky neck, covering it unconsciously. "Unkind," she murmurs, feeling goosebumps go over her arms. Slowly she steps forward and reaches for one of the crystals with one hand, meaning to wipe away the dust there. "Poor... poor things..."

Cold Obsidian looks into the crystals. He dwells for a while on the buxom lady in the nearest crystal, but unlike previously, his interest is not prurient, but academic.

"Sleep chambers," he says, thoughtfully considering the device. "To preserve people who were ill."

Philokrates gently restrains Azami's hand from touching it. "It is delicate enough as it is," he murmurs. "I will send for Chronos. He will be able to maintain this place, repair what was broken here, without killing those within the pods. If indeed they still live at all..."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Something shrieks, and the whole room seems to rumble as the mass at the bottom of the room roars, rearing up onto its back. It still covers the floor in darkness, but now it is visible quite plainly.

It is monstrous. Massive black butterfly wings grow from its back, with huge black lotuses growing and dying all over its body at an absurd pace like flowery pustules of ooze. A thousand eyes, each compounded unto infinity, stare forth at the children of Sol and Luna as great black arms rip themselves forth from the mass, clawed fingers spurting from those even as the arms trail the odd black crystalline webbing and silk from the main body.

"YOU WILL NOT STEAL OUR DREAMS, MEDDLESOME CHILDREN!" The creature roars.

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Any idiot can tell it's a god, as an aside, and not a demon."

Cold Obsidian, not known for his bravery, scrambles back from the crystal. He at least does not scream like a little girl. This time.

Philokrates holds up a hand, dangling his bow from one finger. "We mean no harm, ancient goddess, nor do we intend offense. A thousand pardons and apologies be upon us."

Philokrates is absolutely unflappable in the irritating sort of way that someone tweaked out on valium is.

Azami startles, but doesn't quite skitter back as she'd like to. Her gaze goes to the ever-living, ever-dying lotus field upon it's back and the great butterfly wings that reach up high toward the cieling. "Great Weaver," she says, in the tone of one who has seen many dark things and bathed in black radience, not quite calm like Philokrates, but respectful and wary. "Strange Wonder! We came upon dreamer's echoes in the village above-- why do you keep them here in this unnaturral sleep?"

The massive creature looms over them, flowing and dripping with butterflies breaking apart and rejoining the horde even as it leans in for a good look. Those massive compound eyes blink, all out of succession, as they attempt to see who it is who dares both their sleep, and it becomes immediately apparent exactly what is wrong with this thing.

It's blind.

The creature hisses, its voice like a thousand crickets chirping. "THEY ARE OURSSSSS!" It booms, "THE LAWGIVERSSSS PROMISED THEM TO US! SOL IS NOT WELCOME HERE!" It shrieks, "WE REFUSE YOU, LAWGIVERS! WE WILL NOT LET YOU TAKE OUR DREAMS!" It waves a massive clawed hand, dripping with lotus blossoms; they sprinkle to the ground, flower petals falling over the floor.

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Awareness + Perception please."

(Judge) Cold Obsidian rolls Perception + Awareness: [ 3 7 7 ]

Resulting in 2 successes.

Philokrates says, "That is fine. We do not contest your claim."

(Judge) Philokrates rolls Perception + Awareness: [ 4 7 9 <10> <10> ]

Resulting in 6 successes.

(Judge) Azami rolls Perception + Perception + Awareness: [ -1- 3 3 4 4 5 5 5 5 5 7 7 8 ]

Resulting in 3 successes.

Azami swallows, and does her best to keep her mouth shut.

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Obsidian."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Make a Lore check for me."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Lore + Int."

(Judge) Cold Obsidian rolls Intelligence + Lore: [ -1- 5 5 5 6 6 7 8 ]

Resulting in 2 successes.

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "You're not using your Excellency?"

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Roll Int + Lore + Int + Lore."

-= OOC =- Cold Obsidian says, "Just to be safe I'll buy two successes."

-= OOC =- Philokrates says, "I have Anathema-to-None Method!"

-= OOC =- Cold Obsidian says, "Yeah."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Phil:"

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "It has not recognized you as a Solar."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "It is simply a blind, angry creature"

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "And it thinks you are trying to steal its dreams."

(Judge) Cold Obsidian rolls Intelligence + Lore + Intelligence + Lore: [ -1- -1- -1- -1- 2 2 2 3 3 5 5 5 6 6 8 <10> ]

Resulting in 3 successes.

Cold Obsidian cringes and grits his teeth as the huge blind goddess looms over them. A few of the flower petals float by him. One hits him in the face. He blows it up off of his cheek and looks at it warily, and by blind chance manages to see something in the distance...

Cold looks over to his comrades. He mouths 'make noise' and indicates a direction opposite to the one he wants to go to, points at himself, then indicates what looks like a switch in the direction he means to go to.

Azami meets Cold's eyes... then nods.

She clears her throat loudly, and raises her arms with a soft sound of leather, suddenly making all the noises that a normal person makes by motion that Aza by habit and neccessity has banished. Her petticoats whisper about her legs and her boots scuffle a little on the dusty floor. Covering for Cold's sounds if she can. "Great Weaver," she says. "Won't you tell me your name? I am Aza, a No Moon Lunar, and a keeper of stories. Will you tell me your name, strange wonder, so that I might sing you a song to soothe your lonely heart?"

Philokrates says, "Yes. Aza'ni is a strong speaker, and you must have lingered alone in this darkness for longer than anyone would wish to stand alone in the dark."

Cold Obsidian, trying not to breathe too much, slowly begins to pick his way away from the two speakers. He is about as stealthy as a dairy cow, but if they can just hold the goddess' attention -- maybe he can figure out some sort of way to quell the powerful spirit.

Out of synch, the masses of eyes blink, as though trying to discern where they are. "WE...WE WILL NOT BE..." It starts. "WE WILL NOT BE TRICKED BY..."

But the creature's head dips low, laying what must be its face before Azami and Phil, and its hands slip around the massive metal guardrails, listening carefully.

"WE ARE...ARE LOCUST DREAMS ONE THOUSAND DREAMS OF MIDNIGHT," it hisses, "YOU ARE AZA, A NO MOON LUNAR. SING, AZA A NO MOON LUNAR."

Its massive head sweeps to stare at Philokrates. "NAME YOURSELF, SO THAT WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE."

Philokrates says, "I am Philokrates of Great Forks, student and servant of the Three, world-circler, arrow-master, wind-strider, torture-sufferer, lie-smiter, lore-teacher. I am a Quicksilver Falcon, Chosen of Sol, consecrator of oathes and declarations. I am pleased that I met you today, Locust Dreams One Thousands Dreams Of Midnight."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Stealth + Dex."

(Judge) Cold Obsidian rolls Dexterity + Stealth: [ -1- 2 5 ]

Resulting in a Botch!

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "I...I...you..."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "You're the player -every GM DREAMS OF-."

-= OOC =- Cold Obsidian says, "Yup."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "<3"

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "I'll let you get another die for your stunt if you want."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "See if you can counteract the botch."

-= OOC =- Cold Obsidian says, "C'mon magic die"

(Judge) Cold Obsidian rolls 1: [ 6 ]

Resulting in a failure.

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Yeah, you're okay."

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune lowered the difficulty because of the noise.

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "So no botch, but no successes."

(Judge) Soldier of Misfortune rolls 3: [ 4 7 <10> ]

Resulting in 3 successes.

Think quiet thoughts, Cold Obsidian tells himself, moving conservatively even once Azami starts singing. He takes deliberate steps, breathing lightly and shallowly, and silently prays that Philokrates and Azami entirely hold the attention of Locust Dreams.

Slowly and steadily. Slow. Slow -- and Cold feels his boot land on top of a piece of paper. Did it crinkle? Cold stops moving. He considers his situation intently. Why am I here, he asks himself. Why did I agree to follow Philokrates around? Why am I so attracted to farmer's daughters? They always get me in trouble.

Lotus Dreams One Thousand Dreams Of Midnight swings its head around at Cold Obsidian, one of the arms dripping onto the ground. Three of the buxom beauties spring up, crossing their arms at Obsidian and murmuring in his direction something untoward. One of the empty crystal caskets swings open.

Azami shies back a step as the god puts its head down before Philokrates and herself, nervous to be so close to the manyfaceted eyes. They are blind however, and so she steels herself and reaches behind her to slip the Song of Earth out of its tooled leather casement and into her hands. Stepping forward again she closes her eyes so that she cannot see the monstrous god, then lets her hands dance over the strings.

A song that Philokrates would know swells out like sweet honey, filling the enormous room and carressing those within like gentle hands. To it Azami adds her own pleasantly rough contralto, raising her voice in song. The story of the Moon Bear and her search for the fallen stars dances in the ancient air, and the music depicts vast frozen northern wilderness. Glaciers like crystal mountains, trees dark as night, a sunless land where the Aurora Borealis dances high in the velvet blackness of the sky and a mother searches out her lost children in the frozen wilds.

Philokrates would sing accompaniment, if he had the slightest talent for music, which he does not. He attends, utterly distracted by Aza's art.

(Judge) Azami rolls Charisma + Charisma + Performance + 2: [ -1- -1- -1- 2 3 3 3 5 5 7 8 9 9 9 9 <10> <10> ]

Resulting in 10 successes.

Like any tasty prey animal, Cold instinctively freezes up when the goddess swings its head around to look right at him. He continues to not move when the women appear. Well, Cold Obsidian thinks, as he is verbally assaulted by what in another time would be Doctor Evil's Femmebots. It wasn't being hit by lightning. At least I didn't get dumped into lava. There are worse ways to die.

Cold Obsidian holds his ground, glancing at the suddenly open crystal casket, then toward the lever in the distance. He purses his lips and swallows. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad...? And then Cold Obsidian remembers something important. Something more essential than any flash of First Age insight.

Joyous would ruin this for me, Cold realizes a few seconds later. He'd rescue me even if I was having fun. So forget it, I don't need the headache! Cold waits for Azami's singing to start to pull Lotus Dreams' attention, then starts to move. Slowly at first, but as the song continues his pace quickens. He's not going to get a second shot.

The dreams of beauty disappear as though the rays of light of Sol were striking them through the clouds, vanishing in puffs of butterflies, which swim back through the air to rejoin Lotus Dreams One Thousand Dreams Of Midnight. The great god/dess/es twist his/her/its form back to Azami, the crystal casket sealing closed as its arm settles under its head, listening with rapt attention to the song.

ooc ; needs a title to this effect.

Moonbear wanders the wilderness, searching for her children that fell out of the sky. She weeps as she walks through the deep cold snow, for her heart is full of loneliness and sorrow. Where her tears fall, the winter rose blooms like crystals. Her great black paws tread over rocks and thorns and the ice. Because she has lingered so long in her palace in the clouds they are soft however, and so where the thorns and stones pierce her, her blood leaves in its wake bright poinsettas beneath the evergreens. All the gods look down on Moonbear and cry; why do you walk when you could fly above? Return to us, return and we will comfort you!

"No," Azami sings, her voice so full of sorrow and heartbreak as the Moonbear that the Ruan weeps in her hands. "From so high up, my children will be too small." The song was Minus' music. Azami has written a story to go with the sad notes, though a close observer would see her searching for the words even as she goes.

So Moonbear walked from the coast of the sea, further and further north. She went to the halls of the city-dwellers, but they did not know where her children might be. Moonbear went to the tents of the Icewalkers, but they could not help her either. So Moonbear walked, searching endlessly, till at last she came to the halls of the Air King. She could hear the breathing of the great Dragon, and her heart felt for the first time fear. Would the Air King know where her children were?

Cold gets to the controls. He takes a few frantic moments to breathe while looking over what the various switches do. He concentrates, trying to remember as much mechanical lore as he can all at once. Think think think, you can operate this thing, just think it through.

Cold Obsidian starts by raising the 'on' switch, followed by the 'lights' switch. Illuminating the situation may help matters. Fumbling around, he flips the 'show' toggle but not the one for 'music', hoping that Azami is very, very good at improv. And that this won't kill everyone. If it does it will be very distressing.

The on switch does nothing at all. However, when the lights blare on, they are not the flickering, crackling lights of the ceiling, nor are they the lights of the ground; they are brilliant spotlights, raging forth from the floor and piercing through the mass of butterflies that is Lotus Dreams One Thousand Dreams Of Midnight.

As the spotlights congeal, the twisted god sobs, sinking back into the floor as it writhes in pain; more, smaller, focused colored lights shine down, penetrating the creature's mass as they wave around happily, swinging all over the room. A ball sinks down from the sign on the ceiling, catching the light and sending it refracting all over the chamber; it catches each crystal, splitting and cascading forth in a thunderous, soundless roar of brilliance.

"Oops," is Cold's answer.

-= OOC =- Soldier of Misfortune says, "Congratulations, you've successfully upset a tortured god by -turning on the spotlights- and -activating the disco ball-."

-= OOC =- Cold Obsidian says, "This might bother someone with a heart."

(Judge) Azami rolls Compassion: [ 3 6 ]

Resulting in a failure.

"Kaaaah!" Azami exclaims as the god thrashes and weeps. The music ceases as she covers her eyes, similarly blinded by the sudden chaos of light moving dancing and flashing most painfully into her sensitive eyes. "What is that?!"

"WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?" The god/dess/es shriek, butterflies peeling away from the mass to flutter away from the omnipresent lights, "WHY WOULD YOU TAKE THEM FROM USSSSSS? WHY DO YOU HURT US LIKE THIS?!"

"WE HATE YOU, AZAMI A NO MOON LUNAR! WE HATE YOU, PHILOKRATES OF GREAT FORKS STUDENT AND SERVANT OF THE THREE WORLDCIRCLER ARROWMASTER WINDSTRIDER TORTURESUFFERER LIESMITER LORETEACHER QUICKERSILVER FALCON CHOSEN OF SOL CONSECRATOR OF OATHS AND DECLARATIONS! WE HATE YOU UNTO THE END OF TIIIIIME!"

The tortured spirit thrashes, breaking apart into a flurry of butterflies that slip quietly into the vents of the room as the light shines through the crystals, melting the black cobwebs to dust.

And that's why I don't like telling people my name, Cold thinks, and resolves ////not// to turn the lights off. Ever. And to strenghten those spirit wards. A lot.

After the shriek fades, Cold flips the switch for the music to fill the lingering silence in the room. "I had thought," he says, feeling the need to defend himself. "it was blind, so the light wouldn't have mattered. I... I believe I was wrong."

Azami remains where she is on the dusty dance floor, covering her eyes and dazed. Like she'd been hit by a runaway horse, Aza cringes at the terrible shriek of the god but doesn't dare open her eyes just yet, feeling like someone falling down a long hole. Her balance is utterly shot. "Oohhh my head," she moans, then says "I hope you know what you are doing!" Knowing he can't turn the lights off, the little No Moon just stays where she is, face hidden in her skirts, dizzy and wobbly and not quite certain she can get up and walk around yet.

"Actually I have no idea what I am doing," Cold says, looking back at the switches with some concern.

"I would have thought that was very much apparent," he adds, almost as an afterthought.

"..." Aza tries to think... then keels over onto her side with a -whump- "Try morre leverrs" she says, slurring into Skytongue a little."

"o/~ What is love o/~" echoes through the chamber as some of the crystal chambers open; only those nearest to the door seem still functional enough to open, ejecting the buxom beauty and a few others. They blink their eyes, covering them and shouting in pain at the brilliant lights washing over them.

"Wh...where am I?" The woman murmurs, "The last thing I remember, I was getting married, and...and then there were butterflies, and...."

-= OOC =- Cathak Verei says, "It's not the actual song, it's just the first lyrics before the music bursts in."

Cold abandons the levers as some people emerge from the crystal chambers. He approaches the group and tries to look as friendly as possible. He is studiously not eyeballing the pretty girl now that she is aware of him. Ah, the power of the will.

"Hello," he says. "We all need to go outside now. This place is, ah," looking around, "closed for repairs."

"Uh," the woman says after a moment, "Where is here?"

Azami sits up very carefully. And, with her eyes still closed against the horrible frustrating lights, puts her Ruan carefully away.

Cold Obsidian looks up at the sign again. "The Myri Park of Infinite Delights," he says, and looks back into the woman's eyes. "Does that sound familiar...?"

The woman blinks her big blue eyes at him. "Uh, I live in Myri," she replies, suddenly becoming self conscious and making an attempt to cover her bountiful bosom. "But...Park? I.." She frowns. "I remember...a field of flowers, and lots of wonderful things, and then I opened my eyes and saw all this..."

Cold feels awkward now that the woman has become cognizant of her nudity. He opens his long jacket and shrugs out of it, moving around to put it over the lady's shoulders. It is likely going to be too snug in the chest, but at least it will cover her all-together. He thanks the gods that he decided to rub some evergreen oil into the inside of the jacket today.

"What was the season and year you were married?" he asks, and anticipates an answer that he probably won't like.

"I...never got married," she murmurs quietly, "I was on my way to the church, and when I entered...butterflies, and that's it. I don't know what happened, but I don't think he...um..." She thinks and rattles off a date, about five years ago.

"You were taken by a mad god," Azami says gently. "All of you were. But you are alive and well, thanks to this man." Her eyes are still closed. The lights dance over her and shine in her white hair. "He will lead you out so that you can return to the world."

Cold Obsidian is relieved. If this had been someone from the First Age -- well, he'd have no idea where to begin.

"Let's all get out of this place now," he says, "and we'll get all of you clothes and food and..." For some reason, Cold Obsidian has trouble with the last bit, "and get everyone back to their families and such."