Tomb of the Lost

[MP]

ALL: The vast awareness pulses slowly, languidly in your mind, a strangling presence. It's glutted on power. Magic. Ready to wake. All that's left is to sweep up the small food here. Suck down the last dregs of magic and foreign strength. Then onto the rest. And on.


Ari:
Items: emergency book

The light grows stronger as Ari retreats. A glow. And then a sun. And then a total white that blots out the room. Through his blindness, he can hear the dry rasp of skin over stone. The sound of something clambering over the lip of the well. And then, without warning, the light fades.

He's standing in a dark room. Staring at a dark well. The rope still hangs from one of the rocky tiles, motionless now. But the light has gone entirely. The room is now identical to the well room he remembers from before he placed the figurine. And there's no sign of the climber. No sign of Edge emerging from below.

The door to the flooded room is silent. But there's a draft at Ari's back. The door to the collapsed passage is hanging ajar. And though it may be the lingering spots behind his eyes, one could swear that there's a faint and fading glint down the righthand branch.



Edge and Kira:
Edge's items: broken knife, chipped knife, silver chain
Kira's items: carved fragment, ornate key

A thin line of smoke hisses from the old man's neck, blackening the water where the knife has slashed him. Edge feels the grip around his neck slacken. Feels it tighten in a spasmodic grip. The flesh of the old man's face sags like an old balloon, the mouth warping in unnatural shapes. The long fingers are faltering. But smoke clings to the knives, and the blades feel too light in Edge's hand. Brittle.

When he tries to stab again, the end of the good knife chips. It's eaten away as if with rust. The point scrapes past his cheek on the way to the murky bottom. In his other hand, the chipped knife has burned away altogether, leaving him with a useless hilt. It seems that the blood - the residue - eats away at his weapons. The old man isn't quite done yet. And Edge's vision is going dark.

Kira's burs hold up against the smoke, but they seem to be doing little good. The old man may appear human, but his body doesn't react the way it should to injuries. Her bur sinks into his spine, past his ribs, lodges into the meat of his shoulder, to no effect. With a sickening crackle, the skeletal face turns on its twisted neck. Farther. Farther. Cracked unnaturally over the shoulder, fixing the burbat with a white-eyed stare.

The old man lifts one hand from the water and seizes Kira around the neck. The flesh of his fingers runs like mud, but his grip is like steel. He drags the burbat from his back with a painful twist of her scruff. Never loosing his hold from the thing beneath the water, he flings her into the side of the stone idol.

The yawning carving is larger than Kira remembers. The mouth wider. Even lying against its side, she can feel the beginnings of its pull. The old man stares at her as she lies there. Despite his sagging features, and despite his blank white eyes, there's an unmistakable malice there as he presses his victim deeper under. The burbat has the distinct feeling that she'll be next.



Sara:
Items: human effigy, general's sword

Sara's next strike lops off the damaged arm entirely. The limb falls in a puff of dust, muscles sagging, then puddling into sludge. In moments, there's nothing but a lifeless patch of residue where it lay. The creature's skin is beginning to sag, losing some of its definition. But it refuses to fall.

Its remaining arm swipes past her head in a dangerous rush of air. Sara can hear the weight behind it. One well-placed blow could shatter a leg or crush her skull. It seems to know where she is, even headless. Even maimed as it is. And now it moves with a deliberate stride - not toward her, but back. It retreats to the gallery door and stands there. Waiting.

A deep bay rings from the back wall. Behind Sara, the mummy is stepping free from the remains of its shell. It stares at her through sunken lids. Raises its hand in a sweeping gesture. It might not have a horn to sound, but at its command, the hounds surge forward. One charges straight for Sara, leaping at her sword arm in an attempt to latch onto flesh. The second circles behind her, following a gesture from the mummy's arm. Behind it, the grey entity watches, patient, standing at the door to the gallery.



Cassius and Hau:
Cassius' items: w̷̘͉͕̐̑h̷̯̺̾i̷̞̺̰͌t̶̛̯̲̂̕e̶̡̝̅ ̴͈̽͛̈́p̵̖̔e̷̟̭̾l̴̡̦̈̿t̸̰̙̾̕
Hau's items: m̴̖̈́a̵̧͍̒n̷̩͌̋ë̸̛̜̭͖̈́̀́ḑ̸̜͙̱̓̽͊̈́ ̷͈͈̿͂̆ͅp̵̖̔e̷̟̭̾l̴̡̦̈̿t̸̰̙̾̕

The white beast's struggles have wrenched it free of the residue, free of the forming crystals, giving it a straight path to the righthand door. Its powerful leaps propel it forward at an alarming rate, and the slick of ice forms between them in the nick of time.

But as it turns out, Hau barely needs his ice to stop it. Grey crust sprouts along with the crystals, taking root in his enemy's fur. White fur greys and then blackens as the flakes begin to eat through to skin. The pads of the beast's feet begin to wither. The rot blunts its claws.

But the same ice that slows the white beast threatens the black beast too. The existing entities swell the more the ice is used, bloating to monstrous proportions. The largest entity has consumed the entirety of the lefthand wall, wrapping from the corner all the way to the hole. The smaller entities may soon rival it in size. They're three times the width of a man and growing larger, backing the beasts into a narrowing corner of the room. A new entity is blooming from the frost on the black beast's fur, enveloping it even as it takes shape. And when Hau tries to move, his front paws jerk to a stop, caught in a grey crust forming over his ice slick - another emerging entity. In that momentary hitch, the swollen mass pursuing Hau simply collapses forward, its torso driving him down.

There are now five entities in all. The two newest are swelling from the icy patches, clinging onto the beasts and swelling at an alarming rate. The beasts feel the rot searing into their back and sides and feet. Residue is forming all around the room, crusting the floors, the ceiling, the walls. Something vast is taking shape beneath it. If the two can't free themselves and escape the room, death is imminent. All that remains to them is the righthand door and the hole in the wall, both already beginning to crust over.



Draggo and Sarkany:
Draggo’s items: broken flint necklace, damaged spear, sturdy rope, scholar's note 1, scholar's note 2, hideous cake, runed heart
Dropped items: simple knife, human effigy, seeing stone

For a moment, the black strain in the air seems to level out. Just for a moment. They can feel it watching. Feeding. Then at some sudden trigger, it spikes to new levels, burrowing deep into the flesh.

Sarkany tries to move them. He releases the door and begins to push along the wall, blindly, reaching for the dragon’s arm. But his movements are slow and halting, disrupted by the tremors in his limbs. He makes it three steps toward the sun door. His side leaves smears along the wall - thick tar and fresh, blackening blood. Another step. Then his legs fold, and the seraph crumples.

The meat of the dragon’s lower back is pitted as a rotting log. He feels the first spike of agony as the corruption reaches one hip bone, spreading even through the figurine’s protection. There are no reassurances for him. No instructions. Not even acknowledgement.

The seraph stirs where he’s fallen. Utters a low, animal sound. Curls his fingers as if to rise. He never does. Sarkany lies still save for the rapid flutter of his chest and the tremors, weak and fading.

The dragon is, for all intents and purposes, alone. His own injuries cover less vital areas, but it won’t be long before the rot spreads. If he’s to find a way to save himself, he has minutes to act at most.

[kilnarak]

[ Ari goes down the right-hand path, following the light. ]

Ari flinched back further, his bruised back pressing to the cold stone of the walls. He squeezed his eyes near shut against the light, pupils narrowing to mere pinpricks. His grip on the book tightened - his vision was useless, but he could hear movement. He tried to place where it was, where it was going.

He heard whatever it was draw over the lip of the well and then suddenly darkness crashed down around him. It left him near as blind as the light had, at least until his eyes adjusted. He was left blinking at a dark, empty well, yawning distressingly before him. A familiar mural of the maw along the wall. It was disorienting, after the bright washed-out smoothness that the room had held in the light.

A gust of air made him turn so quickly he near lost his balance, hefting the book again to threaten a throw. But there was nothing there save a door hanging ajar, a faint glimmer of light far far down the collapsed hallway.

He could stay and wait for Edge, but as far as he knew that gaping maw of a well had swallowed the man whole. Still he hesitated until the glimmer of light had nearly winked out before he moved to the doorway, through it into the collapsed tunnel. He dropped the book and began to crawl down the right-hand branch, following the fading light.

He felt almost numb as he climbed over the broken stone, squeezing his way along. Where the rock pressed sharply, where it bruised... it wasn't that he didn't feel it, but it felt it didn't matter. He had felt too much, too much fear, too much pain; maybe it was a sort of shock setting in after these few moments of cessation. There was nowhere else he could think to go - nothing pulled him toward the water room and in his mind he was certain that if he went down the well, the rope would snap and he would fall - and following the light seemed as good a plan as any.

It would likely all lead to the same place in the end, anyway.

[NightshadeVII]

[OOC: Edge tries to severely injure or cut off the old man’s arm with the knife he has left (rolls 2 for this). With his free hand, he tries to pry the old man’s hand off, digging his nails into the tissue and tearing at it if he can. Once again tries to wing wallop the man away. As a last desperate attempt, he proceeds to smack the man with his tail in an attempt to knock him away (rolls 19 for struggle)]

[Sharei]

[OOC: Draggo grieves for Sarkany and contemplates simply laying down next to him to die, any intention of escape dying with his father. But the sound of Sara's fighting brings him back to focus. Moving through the agony he - with effort - goes back for her, making an attack on the dog that's behind her with the spear. His aim is to impale it through the back. ]


"Kanagi?"

But the dragon knew what was happening even before Sarkany fell. When he moved to support the icarim, to help ease him to the floor with frightened murmurs, he knew it. He could smell that sickly sweet odor in the other's scent, and could see it in his injuries. His own burned with the force of a thousand suns, but the pain was a secondary thing. Kanagi was in danger and dying and he had to--

And then, with a soft sigh Kanagi was gone.The dragon stared at his prone form. The blackness inside yawned open. Sadness and grief spilled out.

"Please," the dragon whimpered. He nudged the fallen Icarim with a hand, heartsick and broken, but Sarkany did not rise again. "Please," he said again, as though wishing could somehow bring his father back to him. But Kanagi did not answer him. There were no condolences and reassurances, only silence. The dragon sobbed and leaned down over Sarkany's body, pressing against it with his own trembling form. If Kanagi was gone there was no hope for him, and even if there was, he couldn't bare the thought of chasing it. It was too much, suddenly - the burden too heavy. 

Sara's scuffle reached his ears then. She was still alive and fighting, still struggling. The dragon closed his eyes, considered leaving her to her fate, and then forced himself up. It was a great effort to leave Sarkany where he lay, but the juvenile forced himself to  go back for her. Forced himself to attack the dog nearest him as he came into the room, pushing past the grey creature in the doorway to do it. But the fight had gone out of him.

[tsukikoko]

[OOC: Sara curses and strikes at the leaping dog with the sword, while backing up towards the nearest wall, trying not to get encircled by the hunting dogs. With the effigy powers, she creates a very sudden, sharp spike from the wall behind the mummy, hoping to impale and destroy it.
Defence roll: 13
Wall spike: 20]

Again her blow struck true, slicing through the creature's limb and severing it. Though clearly damaged, it remained on it's feet and Sara found herself growing angrier at the sight of it; her burns seared, an ever-present pain, she wanted to go to her companions but could only spare a momentary glance in the direction they'd gone, she had no idea the wellbeing of the scarred man she had seen, there was a pressing, growing weight of hunger getting more prominent by the second... and the damn creature just. wouldn't. die!

She readied her sword again, but it didn't come for her. Could it be... fleeing? No. It stood at the threshold, maintaining position.

A noise at her back.

The shifter turned, locked eyes with the sunken-faced mummy now fully emerged. Even as it's hand began to raise she knew what was coming and opened her mouth to finally voice the bubbling fury within her.
"Come on then ya fuckin' cunts! If ya think ya 'ard," the first dog was already upon her, but even as she stepped back and swung the sword down in an attempt to strike it from the air, the shifter still hollered, "-let's 'ave ya!"

Recognising the circling, pack behaviour for what it was and knowing that her very exposed back was an easy target, that she couldn't look in two directions at once, Sara sought to place her back to the nearest wall. She retreated, even as the effigy's powers rose up again inside her.

A sharp look at the mummy, the one who commanded her undead, canine attackers. She felt for the wall behind him, tracking a path to it through the stones of the floor she stood upon. Then, she realised, the youngling had returned. Looking as though he could barely stand, yet trying to help her, rotting in front of her eyes.

Without Sarkany.

Red clouded the edges of her vision, pulsing dangerously. An image appeared in her head, detailing exactly what she wanted - a spike of stone. Large, phenomenally sharp, enough to pierce through spine, chest, emerge out the other side while wide enough to rupture as much of the body as she could. She wanted to destroy it, driven by fear, anger and a desperation centred around the friends she had separated from and the one now here with her, whom she needed to defend.

Her mental hold gripped the wall tight, surged forward and burst outwards towards her target in an explosion of violence.

[Vaitris]

[OOC: Hau decides to flee the room. Once he’s free from the gray mass he’ll exit out the right-hand door, kicking at any white wolf monsters that try to follow behind him.]

Despite the growing threat of the gray around him, it wasn’t until Hau’s foot was caught in the grip of it that he finally woke to the real danger he had created. He was so focused, so desperate to end this battle he didn’t realize how close he had laid the ice to himself. Nor did he realize how close the mass behind had come, not until it was slumped over him, heavy and suffocating. His thin fur offered no resistance as it burned away and the touch of that awful bloated mass seared into his skin. He would have cried out had it not already driven the breath from him.

Survival instinct finally eclipsed the desire to continue the battle and he thrashed and struggled, pulling himself loose as quickly as he could. He’d witnessed the damage these things had done to others, the smell of rot still lingered with him. He used his revulsion to fuel his escape, twisting free. Once he could move again, he threw himself at the door, shouldering it open. The white wolf might attack him, but it would probably only get a mouthful of that burning gray residue for its trouble. As soon as the door was open enough for him to get through, he shoved himself into whatever room lay beyond. On the way out he gave an extra hard kick with his back legs, partly an attempt to shake off whatever gray might still be clinging to his fur and partly an attempt to catch the wolf monster if it decided to follow.

[jarahamee]

[Cassius attempts to break free of the goo creatures and dashed to the hole, to crawl his way to freedom (19)]

The white beast looked around it. They were surrounded, thanks to the actions of this foolish beast. There were no more exits, except perhaps the hole it had not considered before. The gray creatures were moving in on them. Soon, they were going to be absorbed by them. The contact with the gray creatures burned like fire, melted its flesh, sloughed its paws. They oozed and bled but it paid them no heed.

It had to escape, it had to be free. It would regroup and find its way back to the others, to hunt them. It was large and strong, and it was not afraid. What else could it need? It would find the others, and it would hunt them down. 

It saw the black beast consider the same, be covered by the goo creature, and then make to turn. It would not go that way. The gray monster was too tall now.. No use attacking the black beast: it was covered with the caustic material. No, it had to find its own way out. 

The creature turned its head sharply and made for the tunnel, wedging its large body in as fast as it could climb. The movement was natural and familiar, like travelling down a burrow to its cubs. The feeling was familiar, almost warm, if it was not for the agony of its raw skin touching the stone, smearing blood and ooze as it moved. 

Focus, calm, that was what was left of the human offered. It had focus. Focus through the pain. Endure, survive. That was the beast. They would leave this place alive. 

[Pearl Dragon]

[Kira is yeeted.  She then fights against the idol's pull and tries to head towards the tunnel for escape.]

The burs went in effortlessly, and...fruitlessly. Kira did not feel like the damage was dealt, even with how quickly and easily her burs plunged into the man's flesh. She pulled her burs back, watched as a water-logged hand swept up and around to her neck in a rough grap.

"ACK-" She gasped, feeling the skin of her throat and neck pulled tight as the hand scruffed and whipped her from the man's back in a savage throw. There was a moment of weightlessness as Kira was thrown through the air and then a sharp pain struck her back where the unyielding idol met her momentum. The breath in her lungs exited in a whuff, and she dropped into the murky water below. For a moment, she felt paralyzed, her chest burning from the sudden lack of breath, and then she was surfacing in a choking flurry of wings and water. The darkness didn't help, already suffocating, and the little bit of air she managed to gulp back in was unsatisfying.



As she struggled to pick herself back up, Kira felt the familiar magnetic pull from behind her. Already the idol was beginning to draw her towards it, and a fresh wave of panic fluttered across her mind. Kira pushed herself forward, burs now digging into the floor below the water to gain purchase as she clawed and clambered against the pull. Her eyes caught the old man's, seeing how his face had contorted and eyes still rolling white orbs. In it she could sense a dark promise, a mark of sorts that she was next.



And still, she did not see the boy. Hadn't seen him in the water, and nowhere nearby. At this point, Kira wondered if he'd escaped afterall, and maybe the old man had lost his grip on him. Kira looked to the tunnel and began to fight towards it, a desperate struggle for escape.

[MP]

Ari:
The altar room, when Ari finally crawls from the rubble, is already empty. The place looks much as he left it after placing the idol. Bare alcoves. Bare altar. The floor and surfaces devoid of items. But the residue covers the floor now, piling like snow underfoot. He can't see the floor through the crust, and flakes of it drift from the ceiling like snow. The constant throb in his head indicates that the entire tomb is in a similar state. Choked with the residue, and getting worse.

However, there's a small trail leading to the next door. This doesn't look like the dragging tracks of someone wading through. The residue is simply gone, melted back. Soon, the steadily falling flakes will cover it again. But for now, and in the hallway beyond, there's a faintly luminous quality to the exposed stones.



Edge and Kira:
Edge's items: broken knife, broken knife, silver chain
Kira's items: carved fragment, ornate key

Crude stone walls press in as Kira escapes into the tunnel. The claustrophobic nature of the passage is almost comforting in light of the lurching figure behind her. The sounds of splashing muffle, then fade to a distant echo. The black tunnel stretches on, unchanged save for a fine, crusty layer that coats the ground.

Kira is in slightly better shape than the last time she came this way, and she makes good progress. After the sharp incline, she arrives at a familiar branch. The straight passage smells stale, and the dust is an unbroken crust along the bottom. The lefthand passage is still blocked by rubble. Apparently nothing has disturbed it. She could easily dig through the loose gravel and open up another tunnel. But there are muffled scratching noises from the other side: not the insidious echo of before, but a heavy rustle, as if something is scraping along the tunnel walls.

Back in the flooded room, the old man barely seems to notice Edge's thrashing. Old flesh runs around his fingers. Splatters in his wing and tail. Both knives are rotten and useless. His vision fades darker. Darker. But his final twist, while harmless to the old man, manages one small victory. The old man loses his balance atop the Darai. Long nails drag furrows along Edge's neck and then slip loose. Edge breaks free for a moment - breaks clear of the water for a crucial breath of air.

His brief glimpse above water shows that the rope remains as an avenue of escape. But there's also a tunnel in the wall nearby. Both have risks. The rope may take time to climb, and strength that the half drowned Edge may not have left. The tunnel is cramped for a normal human. For someone of Edge's stature, it may be too tight a fit for a fast escape. And if the old man reaches him, regains his hold, Edge may not escape so easily this time.



Sara, Draggo, and Hau:
Sara's items: human effigy, general's sword
Draggo's items: broken flint necklace, damaged spear, sturdy rope, scholar's note 1, scholar's note 2, hideous cake (4), runed heart
Hau's items: maned pelt

As Hau forces his way through the righthand door, scraping off the clinging sludge, there is a glimpse of the thing behind him: a grey mass writhing up from the stones. Its surface shifts and sags, pitted hollows opening in the flesh only to reknit in grotesque, unnatural patterns. The impression is that of countless mouths, yawning, tasting the air. Pustules bubble up around the massive thing, reaching like countless hands. Then he's through the door, exchanging one grim scene for the next.

Sara's sword leaves through the lunging dog with a blunt, papery sound. The snapping mouth sails past her - cleaved from its body. The dog's torso falls across her feet, kicks and twitches, and lies still. In the same moment, the mummified hunter jerks forward, impaled spine and chest by her section of spiked wall. It dangles several inches off the ground, staring after her with hollowed eyes. Whatever vital organs it had withered centuries ago, and it doesn't seem to mind the damage. It raises a withered arm toward her. Toward its remaining hound.

The hound has wasted no time. Its teeth sink into one of Sara's calves, and it shakes its head vigorously to pull her off her feet. Fixed to her flesh as it is, it would be an easy target for the sword. But at its master's gesture, it releases its hold and fades back, clearly ready to spring again at the next command.

This would put the hound in reach of the dragon's spear, if not for the entity guarding the entrance. But his attempts to open the door have alerted the creature. The stone brushes against its back, and the dragon's injuries are a hindrance. He feels the prickle along his skin as he passes close. Feels the weight of the creature as it rounds on him, staring, even headless.

Its remaining arm slams into the dragon as he tries to slip past, strong enough to crack bone. Strong enough to lift him off his feet and hurl him towards the righthand door, where a blue-haired figure is just emerging.

Without his noticing, the pelt has slipped from Hau's shoulders. It hangs loose and harmless around him, blanketing rather than gripping. It lets him see the entity more clearly - see its terrible resemblance to Grace's form and stature. Lets him see the way it moves toward them, too balanced, too coordinated compared to the shapeless greys of before. It's starts toward the dragon at Hau's feet. Two languid steps. Then it stops.

The grey stump of its neck seems to pulse. Its fingers stir. It seems to be listening for something. Sensing. Then the massive shape turns back to the gallery door. Pushes through, ignoring them entirely.



Cassius:
Cassius' items: white pelt

As he pushes into the tunnel, Cassius catches a glimpse of the thing behind him: a shapeless thing pushing up from the stones. Its surface sags and reforms, pockmarks opening and doughy flesh knitting grotesquely together again. These hollows resemble nothing so much as countless mouths, yawning and champing, tasting the air. Grey spots boil up around it, stretching higher and higher, grasping at the ceiling like a mass of hands.

Then his world narrows down to the tunnel, so cramped that his shoulders are flattened and his elbows are pressed to his sides. The sounds of the entity muffle. Then it's only the sound of his shuffling, of residue crackling beneath him, of his own breath echoing back off the walls. Movement is difficult at first. His limbs and claws are poorly shaped for crawling, not meant to bend flat. But as he crawls farther from the room, farther from the maned beast, his body adapts to the crawl. His fur chafes in the close confines. Somehow, without his noticing, the hide has peeled away, hanging loosely off his shoulders. The memories of the beast and its bloody thoughts peel away with it, fading to something distant and dreamlike. It's all a haze now.

Cassius' shuffling echo continues for a moment after he's stopped. He's come to a branch in the tunnel, several body lengths in. It's too dark to make anything out. But he can smell a dusty, earthen scent to his left - can feel the sigh of air where the tunnel turns left. The other branch continues straight ahead. For a few feet more, at least. The straight branch ends in a pile of rubble. It's loose gravel, easy to shift. But it will delay him if he chooses to dig through. And there's no telling - or smelling - what might be on the other side.

[kilnarak]

[ Ari continues following the trail. ]

Ari flinched back from the crust - it being the only real difference in the room between now and when he had left it. It was unsavory to look at, and he doubted it would be very good to touch it - he'd rather avoid it if he could help it. Lucky for him there was a path cleared through it. Had the light left the path? The dead thing that carried the light? It was as good a direction as any.

He hurried through the altar room and into the hall, following the trail. His eyes swept the hall - if the fire still burned he would raise his arms to try to protect himself and would hurry to keep on the trail and move out of it's range. He was more worried about that gray thing he had seen in the hall before - but perhaps by now it had moved on?

[jarahamee]

[Cassius crawls down the tunnel to the left, avoiding the loose gravel area for the time being. He does not take time to hesitate or think of his time as the white beast]

The creature that was Cassius was changing; the strange, bloody thoughts that had haunted its mind ebbed away and surely as it climbed down the narrow passage, consciousness returned. The contact that its elbows made with the hard ground became uncomfortable contact; the white pelt slipped down off its shoulders. Clothing meant nothing, the wolf pelt was sufficient warmth. The space was dark, but it could still see a little bit. Barely any light lent well to a carnivorous lifestyle. It looked about in the darkness. 

The smell of fresh air felt like a safer area to take itself; the creature turned left, moving away from the blocked exit.  Digging would take too long, as sure as it was in its digging skills. Where would it lead them? It could not say.

The Beast sniffed the air, wondering what else lay in store. It listened to the wind, to the movement, and to the sensations that brushed against its body. It was unsure of what was ahead, but it was more promising than whatever was behind.

It took no time to contemplate the events of the last few moments. Such reflections meant nothing to it, besides that there was danger and death behind, and survival forward. It was not sure where it was going, but it was sure that this was the right way. What else could it hope to find? 

[Pearl Dragon]

[Kira is spooked away from the gravel passage and continues straight further down the tunnel, basically retracing her steps from the first time she'd been through the tunnel.]

The tunnel looms then closes in around Kira as she escapes down the familiar, narrowing passage way.  She barely pauses along the way, mostly following the dusty scents and what little she could remember to guide her.  To her left, she notices the gravel-blocked passage and stops for a brief moment.  Her breath was fast and labored, and for a moment she considered digging away at the rubble when suddenly a strange scratching on the other side sent her bolting once more further down the tunnel.  She wasn't going to risk it, whatever it was.  Everything in her mind was now a race, this tomb was turning on them quickly and she could feel time slipping between her fingers like sand.  If she was going to get out, it had to be now.

Crawling as fast as she could, Kira forced her way through the tight spaces along the repeated route from before.  She only hoped there was nothing in the way of new surprises in her path.

[NightshadeVII]

[OOC: Edge goes for through the tunnel, hoping to be able to squeeze though quickly. He’s not particularly gentle about it, valuing speed over comfort. He feels his way along the tunnel with this space sense, so he can get through faster. And if possible, tries to bend the wall around him, so he can move faster.]

Darkness was spreading, quickly, like a disease. Thoughts were abstract, impossible to hold on to. A sense of numbness washed over his mind, and he observed himself struggling against the old man’s grip, as if he was far away, removed from the reality of his situation. It felt so distant, like it couldn’t possibly affect him. It felt like it wasn’t happening at all. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t think.

And then.
Air.
The Darai’s greedy lungs gasped and spluttered, gulping down the stale tomb air with incredible enthusiasm. He coughed, spitting out the water that had made it’s way into his mouth, the taste of algae lingering on his tongue. Every cell in his body was burning from lack of oxygen. His body felt weakened, tired, as if he’d just had a fatigue attack. At least it was a feeling he knew. But hopefully this would pass.

He didn’t have time to wait for that though, there wasn’t time to wait for his body to catch up with his mind any longer. He needed to move, needed to get out of there, because if that thing got hold of him again, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to escape.
Quickly, Edge made his way towards the tunnel, pulling his wing in, so he could squeeze in faster. He didn’t care if he scraped skin or burst blisters anymore, he just needed to get out. Feeling his way along the tunnel wall, his conscious awareness of the space around him stretching much farther than his immediate surroundings, Edge pushes through the tunnel, hoping the old man wouldn’t follow him.

[Vaitris]

[OOC: Hau makes it through the door only to find the hand-creature flying towards him. He dodges away from it and looks around for anything he might be able to use as a weapon.]

His feet kicked through nothing but air and there was no hot breath on his heels when he slipped through the door. Hau cast a quick glance over his shoulder and saw only gray. The wolf wasn't following. The desire to fight was ebbing and he felt surprise and relief in its stead.

The pelt eased its grip and slid off as well. His first instinct was to throw it away, even if that left him with nothing, he was disgusted by it and what it wanted him to do. But a more practical part of his brain caught him in mid action. If the white beast returned he might still need it. His ice was dangerously volatile and little fox teeth (if they were even still an option) would do little more than tickle a creature like that.

But for the moment he was free from it, and free from that terrible battle, but not from danger altogether. Before he had more than a second for the scene to sink in, the many-handed monster came hurtling towards him. Hau recoiled back towards the door in a confused attempt to dodge, abruptly remembered the gray mess that lay on just the other side of it, and nearly tripped over his own feet as he scrambled into a corner away from both. Behind it was another entity, headless but advancing. Hau felt the twinge of familiarity as he glimpsed it move. Its build, its gait. Fresh horror struck him. It was Grace! A million monstrous ideas flitted through his head, what had happened after they had left her body, what could have occurred to turn her into this. But he shoved them away.

Heart racing, breath gasping, Hau searched for something – anything – he could feasibly use as a weapon. Even as the one entity mysteriously hesitated, seemed to retreat, he didn’t trust it. He wanted something in his hand right now. The other creature, that confused tangle of limbs, was still here and probably mere moments away from attacking.

[tsukikoko]

[OOC: A lot of things are happening and none of them good. Sara yells at Hau that the many-limbed thing (Draggo) isn't a monster, though it looks like it is and not to attack it. Slices at the remaining dog with her sword in an attempt to kill it, while running after the goo monster as she's pretty sure it's after Sarkany. Erects a wall briefly between herself and the dog if she doesn't manage to kill it to buy herself enough time to reach the gallery(?) door.]

[Sharei]

OOC: Draggo considers laying where he fell to be eaten but then tries to protect Sarky's corpse.]


The juvenile landed at Hau's feet and did not immediately stir. It was not for the pain, though there was plenty of it. The rot still continued to eat away at his hip and muscle, and his side ached as though he'd broken ribs. No, he did not stir because he couldn't bring himself to get up.

Just eat me, he thought with another lowkey sob. The grey figure approached him, but then it stopped. The dragon watched it turn away through a half-open eye. What was it doing-?

Kanagi.

The dragon shot upright. He was moving before he was thinking, rushing the creature with his spear to impale it in the back. He wouldn't let it have Kanagi, even if all he was protecting was his father's remains.

[MP]

Ari:
The fires have died out by the time Ari reaches the hallway. The terrible light is gone. The walls are bare. The alcoves are dark and mercifully empty. Ari is free to follow the trail through the residue, which drifts down in flecks from the ceiling. Should he look up, he can see bubblings of pustules along the ceilings, each one pulsing like a heart. These pustules stain the north, west, and south edges of the hallway. But along the east passage, to his right, they boil up in massive crusts around the door. Ari can hear something moving on the other side: a slick, weighty sound, like something slithering over stone. 

The faint light, the path through the residue, continues straight ahead down the north passage. But to follow it, he has to risk passing by the east door. The stone has opened a crack. Is easing wider. The thing on the other side - the heart of the crippling ache in his head - sounds frighteningly close is looking through. He can see a sliver of grey crust. A massive serpentine body, faceless. Eyeless. Pustules writhe and reach through the door frame. The pitted surface of the monster knits and churns, tasting the air with a dozen formless mouths. Ari can feel the prickle of eyes on him, centered now in the mass of the watching thing. He can feel its smile.



Cassius:
Items: white pelt

Cassius can tell when the tunnel branches again by a subtle quality to the air. The sound of the air broadens, moans, indicating an enclosed space to his left. He can smell stale air, the scent of dust, a trace of something mammalian and recent. The white pelt prickles over his back as this observation registers. But for the moment, Cassius' body and mind remain his own. 

The other branch continues straight ahead, with the same uniform smell as the rest of the tunnel. Unremarkable. Except...he can hear faint shuffling in the distance, light and furtive. Blunted, as if there's something between the flesh and the walls. The pelt crawls at the sound, an eager feeling, not quite strong enough to overtake his human mind yet. 

But when Cassius comes to a stop, the sound of crawling continues. Not an echo. Not the creature ahead. Something is dragging itself behind him, fleshy and scraping along the stone. The tunnel is too tight to turn and look, or even to lift his head. It's impossible to see through the dark. The thing sounds some yards distant still. But he can begin to hear its breath, soft and rasping. Its nails rasps over stone, cracking, picking up speed as it hears the silence. 

The space to the left may offer a hiding place. But with the tunnel so dark, the room dimensions are uncertain. The passage ahead may give him a chance to outrun it, if he can find the exit. Whatever his choice, he will have to make it quickly. The thing is catching up.



Kira: 
Items: carved fragment, ornate key

Retracing her steps leads Kira to the same branch as before: to her left, the tunnel turns towards dusty scents and the little room; ahead of her, it continues toward the ashen smell, the ruined hallway, and the massive knight within. The path is the same. The smells are the same. But she's no longer the only one in the tunnel.

Somewhere down the left passage, she can hear something moving. The sound of breathing. The weighty scrape of something crawling toward her, almost too large for the tunnel. It's not the fleshy pursuer of before. But she can hear that too, just behind it. It would seem they're both moving in the same direction, and ready to catch up with her if she hesitates.



Edge: 
Items: broken knife (2), silver chain

The tunnel is almost too small to accommodate a person of Edge's stature. His head strikes the ceiling whenever he raises it more than a few inches. His elbows are pressed tight against his sides, forcing him to crawl in a wriggling, worm-like motion. The sense of claustrophobia is overwhelming, and if it weren't for the fact that he could hide his wing, he'd never make it through the tunnel. Thankfully, the tunnel seems too cramped for his attacker. There's no sign that the old man has followed.

The tunnel angles upward for a long way. A fine crust crackles beneath Edge's belly. He can smell the clay-like scent of residue - can feel it aching in his skull, now a constant throughout the entire tomb. The pustules are everywhere, still growing. If he moves too slowly, if the tunnel continues for a long way, it may soon be overgrown, leaving him buried within. 

After an agonizing and gradually tightening crawl, the tunnel levels out, and Edge feels a sudden change to the air quality. Feels empty space to his left, allowing his arm some movement. The tunnel branches left here. A short way in, this left turn is blocked with rubble, loose and gravelly. It would be easy to dig his way through, if he can risk the time. If not, the tunnel continues straight, allowing him to continue his uncertain crawl.



Hau:
Hau's items: maned pelt

Hau's search yields little in the way of weapons. There's an empty box that seems to have held knives at one point, judging by the dirty imprints and the flakes of rust. But there's no sign of them now. Horned, antlered, or sharp-fanged skulls might make for temporary weapons, but the bones are unlikely to be effective weapons or hold up to hard use. The black jars could be used for bludgeoning or the pelts for some measure of protection, but there's little else but dust and residue under his hands, and raw stone pressing tight around his body.

He's crawling down a black tunnel, wings pressed to his side, head low to avoid scraping the ceiling. He hears noises off to his left. Scrapings and scratchings as something crawls closer. 

And suddenly he's back in the hunter's trove, the vision fading. The tangle of hands is retreating from the room - following Sara out the lefthand door or pursuing her, it's hard to say. The darkness in the room seems to have lifted, and the remaining hound and its impaled master have gone strangely inert. Hau might not need a weapon if it weren't for the movement behind him.

The door he came from is grinding open. Something is pushing out from the frosted room. It's not one of the entities. Not even the swollen. The thing is grey and crusted, but it moves on a massive, serpetine body. Its formless head is pitted and shifting, tears opening and sealing like countless mouths. The pustules around it reach and contract, dragging the great body forward. It seems to test the air. To consider. The sense of eyes, of something vast and ancient and hungry - familiar after so many uses of his ice and foxfire - shivers over his skin, stronger now than ever. 



Sara and Draggo:
Sara's items: human effigy, general's sword
Draggo's items: broken flint necklace, damaged spear, sturdy rope, scholar's note 1, scholar's note 2, hideous cake (4), runed heart

Dropped items: simple knife, human effigy, seeing stone

The seraph is pale and small in death, his chest utterly hollowed by the rot. By the time Sara and Draggo reach the door, the entity is hunkered over him, its crusted back pulsing and swelling in parasitic movements as it drags him closer. It doesn't turn at their approach, too busy in its feeding. But they can feel countless eyes on them, on the dragon's readied spear, prickling and hungry. A voice pushes into their thoughts, more felt than heard. It sounds vaguely like Sarkany. Sounds wrong as it speaks to the dragon.

He was still alive when you left him. Hurting. Afraid. A pathetic end.


The weight of eyes turns on Sara next, and she can feel its smile in the air.

The photomancer was better sport. For awhile.

The entity is slowly enveloping the seraph, its form beginning to warp in inhuman ways. 

Would you like to know where he is?

There's a readies in the way the creature crouches. Its remaining limbs are powerful, moving in ways a human's could not. Curved talons pushing from its fingertips.

Behind the pair, the door to the trove room is still open. A gloom is seeping through, moving into the gallery. As the room darkens, as the air begins to stifle, as the grey entity continues to swell, there's a sound from the opposite end of the room: a high whinny. An echo of hooves. The horses toss their heads. Paw the stones. The charioteers survey the room with blank clay gazes. Their expressionless eyes fix on the door and the figures standing there.

The door at the left end of the gallery, the closest to their left, is also open. Only just moved, it seems. Sara and the dragon have moments to decide on an action. In another few moments, the chariots may move. In another few moments, the entity may consume Sarkany's body entirely. The gloom is thick and hard to breathe, compounding the sense of stress. 

In a small act of mercy, however, the rot seems to have stilled. The damage to the dragon's back and hip is appalling, flesh and muscle and bone eaten through, but the burning goes no farther. And there's a small pale spot by the entity's hand: a figurine, grooved across the face and lying exactly where Sarkany dropped it. The entity pays no mind to it at all.

[kilnarak]

[ Ari hear's Marche in his head shouting at him and bolts. He tries to use the size of the room to his advantage and circles wide of the east door, headed for the north one. He wants to continue following the light. ]

Ari was glad that the stinging fires with their terrible light had died, although he tried not to think about them as he hurried into the room. Tried not to think about what they had done, what he had done in lighting them. The room was... different. There were no statues. The crust of gunk on the floor was disgusting, distressing. He was glad for the path the thing he was following had cut through it.

He had begun to head into and through the room when he noticed a door moving. He froze for a bare instant, long enough to see the gray serpentine thing pushing through it. The sight of it sent a spike of pain through his head and he flinched back a step.

"What are you doing? RUN!" A voice, frustrated maybe angry, familiar - terrifyingly so at the moment - sounded in his head and Ari startled into motion. He bolted into the room, fleeing Marchelute's voice as much as he was heeding it's advice. He veered off the cleared path, his bare feet crunching into the crust as he made to circle wide of the east door and the serpentine abomination. Maybe it was slow, maybe it wouldn't be able to reach him, and then he could continue through the north door...

[tsukikoko]

[OOC: Sara calls out for Hau, sasses the voice and tries to get Draggo to move if she can, since there’s nothing they can do for Sarkany now. Drags the fallen effigy towards herself with the tip of the sword to avoid getting too close. Waits for Hau, ready to wreck the chariots or erect a wall between them and the chariots/goo monster if she has to.]

Just before she reached the door, Sara had called out,
“Hau! This way, ‘urry!”
But she couldn’t spare more than that, determined to reach the other room and at least try to save her friend. She didn’t really even know why, given she’d already told herself previously that death would at least be a release from this place, like in previous years. Yet, in the moment, she tried anyway. The hound hadn’t latched onto her again at least, a small mercy, given the current situation. Especially when, as the shifter burst through the door, she realised it was already far too late. Where the scarred man had at least shown some small signs of life, for Sarkany beneath the disgusting mound of grey, there was nothing…

Sara felt her heart lurch, a choked sob threatening as the hand with her figurine flew to her mouth. Agony and anger flared in equal measure. She gripped the sword tight, images of cleaving through the grey creature flashing thick and fast though her mind, even as exhaustion and a powerful urge to cry crashed over her. Despite everything, despite trying to think of ideas, keep people moving, help them somehow, none of it had worked. She didn’t even know if the scarred man had survived, whether her diversion had been all for nought. A rising part of the woman wanted to lie down and just let herself die. At least then, this would all be over.

If the voice hadn’t sounded, she might have remained paralysed in that state, but the needling voice seemed to spur the shifter into some kind of action yet again. She practically snarled, her face contorting into a grimace somewhere between terror and aggression; ‘the photomancer’ could only be one person, a concept that lanced fear for her agent straight up Sara’s spine. Had Aaron been here, could she have found him? Or was the voice simply playing on her own personal fears? Rage bubbled, culminated in a low, scathing tone as Sara responded to whatever it was.
“‘E’s at ‘ome ya bellend. Now fuck off.”
As she spoke, the shifter was moving forward, reaching out to the fallen effigy with the very tip of the sword to drag it towards herself. While she still wanted to cut the creature in half, judging by how little it had cared about being beheaded, she imagined doing so would only divert it’s attention to herself and the youngling.
Again the stubbornness was rising, the desire to defend whatever she had left.

A young dragon whom Sara tried to put a hand out towards and guide away from what remained of Sarkany’s body, once she had the effigy in hand. She didn’t know what he could see of her, whether he understood any of what she was saying, wished she still had the seeing stone to be able to view him properly.
“I’m sorry luv, I’m sorry, but there’s nowt we can do for ‘im now. We ‘ave tah move. Git to a door, or be’ind a pillar tah avoid the chariots.”
The shifter tried to motion, touch the dragon, anything to try and get him to understand. After that, still he glanced around, looking for the other potential member of their group, but the kitsune was nowhere to be found.

Though she had previously told Hau (albeit in a very rushed and shouting manner) that the many-limbed monster he could see wasn’t someone to be afraid of, she wasn’t sure if he believed her, or that he would follow. So the shifter pressed back against the door she had recently come through, keeping it open a touch, while also trying to keep an eye on the chariots. They hadn’t moved yet - though she felt some inner vindication that they had come to life in the end, she knew they would - but Sara wasn’t sure how long that would last. She reached for the stones again, the material of the chariots themselves if she could do so, holding it within the mental grip of the powers she’d come to find. Should the chariots make a move for them, she’d either rip the wheels out from under them by morphing their shape into a straight line incapable of turning, or erect a wall between her group and them.
The same went for the grey creature, if and when it was done feeding. 

[jarahamee]

[Cassius feels the air before him, and the thing coming behind him. He decides to drop the white pelt in the tunnel and continue on his journey down the central tunnel, since it did not help him against the gray creatures.

The Beast followed the air, never pausing or hesitating. What use was being trapped in a room, if the thing that was following would find and consume them. No, they would move faster, even if it hurt, and get to the place where they could breathe again and move with freedom, away from the monsters, and the others. In the darkness impenetrable. It longed to have its own eyes again; those could see even in near pitch darkness.

After all, the darkness was their friend, and they embraced it, more than the bloody creature had been. The Beast considered it briefly and then slipped the white pelt off its shoulders. The wolf skin would be enough to protect their back, and it did not influence their thoughts into foolishly becoming trapped with slime monsters.

The thing behind him was catching up, but if he moved fast enough, it would not be able to take him. Slowing down, listening or trying to avoid it would result in it getting him. No, the way was forward. Hopefully the tunnel stayed an even thickness.

It pressed ahead, following the smell of air, and moving through the central tunnel, crawling as fast as he could. Soon, the dreams of the white beast's fevered mind were nothing but distant memories to it, and not ones that it cherished. It did not spend time pondering on them. It kept its senses keen, and wished it still held a weapon.

A pity this pathetic human body had nothing but training meant to destroy other soft-bodied creatures.