Tomb of the Lost

[jarahamee]

[Cassius moves to catch the sword and cut himself free of the offending arm (14) and slashes at the horse to clear a way for himself. He will then attempt to retreat to safety away from the mummies, clearing a path for Sara.]

Cassius felt the mummy begin to wrench his flesh. With a flicker of realization he discerned it was going to tear his arm off. The body of the mummy was frail but strong; with a well-placed blow, he could break it apart, and yet... it was also oddly, inhumanly strong.

Then, Sara called to him, and he turned just in time to see the thin sword fly his way. She had succeeded. She had her own weapon, and now, he had one too.

He caught the sword and slashed at the offending arm of the mummy, turning beneath it to break its grip and move away from both it and the undead horse, slashing at its leg as he went. Hamstring the horse. Break its anatomy. It would not be able to follow them in pieces.

The mummy was thrown off-balance by the horse's bite, and this was the only time he needed, before it began to thrash and stomp at the two of them with whatever deathly anatomy that remained within it. They needed to clear the hallway. Sara was likely exhausted, but he still had the child.

Cassius attempted to retreat with the screaming Draggo back into the other room in the hallway with the other destroyed Knight, guarding his retreat with his sword arm. He could use either, but his left was occupied by the child. He clutched them to himself as if it could provide the needed protection.

[Sharei]

[OOC: Draggo calms enough to cooperate with Cassius now that the figure is dead and drags Cassius toward the sun door. Gets hit with a rock.]


Coming back to himself after the hysterics was a slow process. It began with the acknowledgment of the armored figure's demise somewhere in his peripheral, a feat that had cost the scarred man his life and Sara precious energy. With that knowledge, the panic began to ebb. Cassius' staunch protection despite his flailing and the presence of other, more immediate threats helped. The dragon calmed enough that he could limp along beside Cassius, and the tear stains on his face soon turned from fear to pain. His escapade had aggravated the already agonizing wounds and they burned anew.

But rather than follow Sara toward the sun door, Cassius began to lead them toward the other room. The juvenile fought him then, pulling the bigger male after Sara as she crossed to the boy and the door.

"N-No, we have to- to go there-" he started, right before being beaned in the head with a rock.

[NightshadeVII]

[OOC: Edge returns as a spirit! He will kick Hau out of his mummy horse and will let Sara (and Cassius) know he is on their side with a quick bow. He will then shield Sara from incoming attacks as she moves to the sun door and hopefully unlocks it, either by pushing others away, or using the mummy body as a shield. Rolls 20.]

Consciousness was a... strange thing.

To begin with, the Darai couldn’t really find himself in it. Didn’t know where he began or where he ended, if he even was there at all. He wasn’t sure how he had ended up here, in this place, and wasn’t sure what this place is. Still he remembered pain and fear and sorrow, however, only some of it was his own. In those tender moments, where his mind tried to gather itself together again, he began to understand what had happened, he began to see clearly. All the injustices, all the sufferings, everything. All caused by those usurpers. He understood now, understood what had passed him by when he was still alive, and regretted that he hadn’t taken his duty seriously, that he had allowed things to get so out of hand.
But he couldn’t dwell. It was close to the end now.

In the gallery room, everything was happening all at once. The sounds of scuffles filled the air, but that wasn’t what Edge cared about. He needed to find whoever had the key, and had to make sure that they got to where they were supposed to be. He needed to help, but there wasn’t much he could do without a physical body. It didn’t take him long however, to find a fitting vessel, but apparently, it was already occupied. Edge didn’t care. He forced out the other spirit, regardless of who they were. He needed a bosh to use.

Dead limbs stretched and bent as Edge took control of the mummified horse, testing what he could do with this borrowed vessel. Despite its state, it felt powerful, and at the very least sturdy enough to take a few blows, should it come to that. It was different from the body that used to belong to him, but if it got the job done, it would be good enough. He wouldn’t need this for long.
He could hear Sara sobbing in the distance, but did not know why she cried, who she was mourning and apologizing to. If he had been able to find out, his reaction might have been similar, sorrowful and heavy with regret, because he knew that he had failed another. Still he turned towards her sobbing, which was soon replaced by the sound of a massive notched sword being dragged over the ground by her.

When Sara’s eyes fell on the mummified horse, she would see it attempt to bow before her, bending front knees and lowering its head, it was almost as if it pledged loyalty to the shifter in that moment, promising not to harm her.
He felt a slash coming at the horse’s side, but it was distant, did not belong to himself, and Edge did not care who it came from and what it meant. It wasn’t directed at Sara or the sword she carried.
There wasn’t even the slightest hint of aggression towards the shifter as the mummified horse trotted up beside her, placing itself between the shifter and the other dangers of the room. As Sara began to run, she would notice the horse running beside her, easily keeping the pace, and keeping an eye out for any dangers that should come between Sara and the sun door. Should anyone or anything try to attack the shifter, they’d quickly be pushed away by the mummified horse. It’s moments were clumsy, and not fully coordinated, but there was a certain raw strength behind them. However, not once did the mummy move to attack Sara.

Edge knew that this needed to stop, felt deep down in his core, more strongly than he felt his grip on his own mind, that this had to stop. This madness has been going on for too long, this suffering and despair. It had to end, no matter what and Edge would do anything to see that happen. These things had to be set right and those left here deserved to find peace at last. If that involved sacrificing the mummified horse’s body and letting it be destroyed but whatever tried to attack Sara, then so be it.
One thing was certain, he would see Sara to the sun door safely. This would end now.

[MP]

The Gallery:
Ari's items: sturdy rope, hideous cake (1), runed heart, simple knife
Sara's items: blank effigy (2), notched sword
Cassius' items: general's sword

The residue stings at Ari's arms and chest as he feels for the dropped items, crust packing in around his throat. It feels like drowning. Feels like burning. And the pain only deepens the longer he spends wading through the muck. In the end, he's only able to recover several items before he retreats to the sun door. The burn is getting too aggressive.

Cassius finally has a weapon, but it seems that the entity senses the threat. The mummified charioteer burrows deep into the flesh and muscle of his sword arm. His sudden rush of supernatural dexterity and instincts are useless in the face of its advantageous grip. He can't get a proper angle, can't force the ruined muscle to retaliate. Worse, as he tries to usher the dragon to safety, the horse bites into his opposite shoulder, breaking skin and crushing two of the dragon's fingers in the process. Blood spurts. The officer is pulled in two directions, his shoulder torn down to the bone and unable to fight back while also protecting the boy. Even when the horse breaks off, ignoring the slash in its side as it trots to guard Sara, the charioteer continues to tear at the officer.

Kira's hurled stone leaves an ugly gash above the dragon's eye, but her positioning has caused far worse damage. Each time Ari and the burbat move past the sun door, the child loses eye contact with the massing entity. Each time, the grey mass seethes forward, gaining feet at a time. It has swarmed over the platform. It has reached the charioteer, closing around the mummy the way an angler draws in a lure. 

For all its age, the notched sword sinks into its slot and turns smoothly beneath Sara's hand. Both slots have been filled, turned vertically until they stare out over the gallery like two slitted eyes. And with a great rumble, the vibrations shivering up the legs, the sun door moves. It sinks into the floor, the carved sun dropping lower and lower until at last it sets beneath the stones. And Sara can see that there is no exit on the other side. Only a small room. Only a lone sarcophagus set in the middle of the floor. A dead end. And behind Sara, the situation is only growing worse.

The residue has reached Cassius and the dragon, swamping their ankles, pressing up against their backs. It eats through flesh with an almost desperate speed. The dragon's hip, already rotten, finally snaps like old driftwood.

And beneath the chaos, the sound of footsteps. The boy is walking through the open sun door, toward the lonely sarcophagus on dreamlike steps. He reaches it, and though his arms are far too thin, his frame far too weak for the heavy stone, the lid slides open at his touch. He looks down at the occupant. Tarnished jewelry. Rotten fabric. The remnants of a crown over black skin. The boy stares it for a long moment. Reaches in, almost tenderly, and smooths the withered brow. At his touch, the parchment skin begins to fall. With a soft sigh, the mummy crumbles to dust. The boy climbs into the empty sarcophagus and curls up as if to sleep. 

The change is as soft as waking. The residue goes listless. Withers. Recedes, until there's nothing left but the bare stone of the tomb. The remaining mummies have crumbled, and the pain of the burns, of broken bones, of shredded skin fades with them. The survivors can talk among themselves, and nothing comes to challenge them. The tomb is empty. There's nothing left but a long walk, calm and aimless and instinctual.

Somehow, without noticing, you've come to a hallway you've never seen before. Your companions are nowhere to be seen, a distant memory. The tunnel stretches away into the dark. But there's no sense of fear as you walk. The air is gentle on your skin. There's a sense of peace in it. Of rest.

Your mind begins to wander. The horrors of the night seem distant, dreamlike. When you refocus, the area is familiar. You're back where you started. On a familiar street, or in your home. You seem to have lost your train of thought - a daydream, perhaps. But when you look down, something is clasped in your palm: a small holed coin of unknown make. It feels warm and familiar in your palm. Soothing to look at. But perhaps that's nothing but the pleasant gleam of metal.

[okami1reeka333]

[exit post OOC: FREEEEEEEDOM! Jedidiah is scared n sad and confused why he has a random coin when he wakes up. ]

Jedidiah:

as the body tore into the shoulder of the officer, the darkened side raved for more and more. while he again, tried to stop- too much. this was too much. he did not like this, he felt like his gut was wrenching from the horror of what he was doing.

but as this occurred, as he begged it to stop. he felt the body fade away, the fear, the anger and blood-lust, the pain. as if a fresh wash of water overcame him. He felt something let go of him, release him from what death grip it had on him. his hands shook, as tears rolled down his face, his chest heaved from the utter shock. . .Oh God. . .what has he done?!

as he sat there and processed what had just occurred, he did not understand any of it, before finding himself in a corridor. . .but he was alone . . .It felt more and more like a waking horror of a unwanted daydream. a day's nightmare. the events grew more and more distant in feeling before in a blink he was back where he was prior. . . in bed, drenched in sweat and his face stained with tears. He sat up, groaning as he needed to change the sheets; before feeling something in his hand? He gripped it before turning it over and looking apon the foreign object in his hand. . .

a coin? small and with a hole. . .It felt familiar but he had never seen it before, comforting as if he held something pleasant? like his stuffed bear when he was young.

Perhaps it from what his mom snuck into his bags when he moved out?

But. . .

hes never went to bed with currency in his hand before.

whatever happened, as unsettling as it was, he still needed to change the sheets before the mattresses under him soak up his sweat and ruin.

[and he leaves the event rp to go change his sheets]

[tsukikoko]

[OOC: "Christ alive, I can finally gan back tah bloody bed."]

Chaos unfolded, but the shifter's path was clear, unhindered, a singular focus. The horse, previously crazed, had suddenly bowed to her, sought to defend her. She knew not why, it didn't matter.

All that mattered now was completing the door.

The notched blade sank home, the door retracted. There was no exit.

Sara sank to the floor, watched the boy move into the singular room while too fatigued to do anything but stare. Was this... how it all was supposed to go? Had she... succeeded? Failed? Despair began to settle. Yet, at the same time, seeing how effortlessly the boy unveiled the sarcophagus, Sara couldn't help but to hope she had done the right thing.

It was all she had left.

Then, just as it seemed they were all to be consumed, it all vanished; the hunger, vile hatred, all that had been seething in this dusty tomb, faded away. Sara was able to turn, smile at her companions, before she found herself on her feet. Walking. That was all she needed to do now.

The last thought she had, before succumbing to the peculiar dreamwalk, was of the scarred man's face. She'd never known his name, never known who he was or how he'd come to be there. But she wished she could have thanked him better while he was alive, wished even more that she could have saved him.

Then, there was nothing to do, but wake up.

She lifted her head from a warm, familiar chest, still rising and falling beneath her with the steady breath of what she assumed to be sleep. For a half-second, the shifter felt panic rise - they weren't supposed to fall asleep tonight! Apparently, however, they had done, based on current evidence. Too many sleepless nights, she just hadn't been able to fight the fatigue. She'd even managed to kick her clothes off when clearly she'd become too hot, as usual.

Just as she found herself reaching for Aaron, intent on waking him so they could remain vigilant for the horrors that befell this night on previous years, Sara felt a small, hard weight in her hand. She turned her palm to face herself, caught the glint of metal even in the dark and stared down at the coin miraculously in her hand. She's certainly not had such an item earlier. Yet, to look on it, to hold it, brought a measure of peace. There was no need to panic, no reason to force themselves awake, or deny herself the simple pleasure of sleeping within Aaron's embrace. They were okay. Everything was okay tonight.

But her movements, or perhaps the sudden lack of her weight upon his chest, or most likely because he'd never really been asleep at all, either way, Aaron was suddenly alert. He stirred, looked down at her and asked,
"You alright?"
A question not quite on the verge of concern, but simply checking because the shifter had so suddenly awoken. Where a moment prior she'd been agitated, now Sara felt calm and more than a little tired.
"Aye..." Another glance at the coin, "I'm alreet luv. We're alreet. Nowt's gan 'appen toneet, trust us, like."
He was looking at her carefully now, likely thinking it an odd thing to say so suddenly. She held up the strange coin to show him, before reaching across to place it on a nearby table. He watched her movements, then gave her a silent, questioning look. In response, she wound her arms behind his head, gave the agent a soft kiss and then murmured against his lips,
"Divvint worry, we'll chat in the mornin' like, but we're alreet. Luv you."

Sara felt an arm wind around her back, a firm (though not crushing) pressure that kept the shifter pressed against Aaron's body and told her all she needed without words. She smiled, felt her eyes drifting closed again. Sure, she was likely going to overheat from all the warmth he generated, but somehow Sara found she didn't mind.

[jarahamee]

[Cassius feels his arm being partially ripped off, then watches the boy disintegrate the figure in the coffin and finds himself back in his apartment]

Cassius watched as his grip failed, wrenched by the hand buried in the shoulder. His aim may have been true, but it was not enough. He felt the sharp pain and odd crunch of things that should have been slipping out of place, and suddenly he was falling, everything was going too fast.

The wave of the gray ooze washed over his transfixed lower body, and he felt the sudden agony of the living slime eating through his lower legs and body. Soon, he would have no leg left to leave this place. They were going to die here. The dragon-child with him suffered as well, transfixed, attacked by the skeletal horse.

And then it all just stopped.

He had not seen it, but Sara must have been victorious while he was distracted. And how could she not be? She had done this all herself, and now she was at the end. A body in a hidden sarcophagus disintegrated, and then, suddenly, his broken body didn't hurt anymore. His anxiety vanished, and he was walking on unbroken legs towards a strange light.

The dim light of his own livingroom. The Beast's dead eyes stared back at him from across the den on his chair. He had been wandering back from the bathroom to the bed. The vision, the pain, the terror, had been nothing but a half-formed dream. Nothing more.

Cassius wandered back in the bedroom, dazed.

Vik called out softly, sleepily, but she seemed to notice something was amiss. She rose from her comfortable position burrowed in the sheets, all muscle and iron. Even in his half-asleep state, he smiled, and made no attempt to resist as she wrapped herself around him and pulled his yielding body with her back to bed. 

His right hand wrapped around her back, but his left remained balled into a fist. His scarred face broke in a groggy smile. 

"You're here."

He commented, disjointed, faint. 

She placed him on top of her chest. An ordinary human would find this uncomfortable, but Vik was large enough it was nothing to her. She brushed her hand into the deep scars of his back. 

"You arrre ok?" she asked.

"I'm fine now," He answered finally, laying his head against her firm body, hand still constricted around the strange thing he had found. Her presence was a familiar comfort. All was right in this world. She was protective and he did not pretend to be stronger than he was.

A strange dream.

He would have disregarded all of it, except for a strange cold object in his palm, rolling about. A penny he found in the bathroom, most likely. That was, until morning, when he realized it was in a tongue and of make unknown even to him.

A mystery.

[kilnarak]

[ Ari is going to go drink until he passes out. ]

As soon as the door began to open, Ari moved toward it. He tried to keep out of the boy's way as best he could, aware that the horrible gray thing seemed to get closer every time the boy's gaze faltered. He couldn't know if the others were following as well, couldn't see them or the troubles that assailed them.

He watched the boy move through the door, watched him move to the sarcophagus at the end, watched him displace the entity inside and climb in to replace it. The world shifted then, the gray flaking away, dissolving into nothing. The world shifted further - somehow he had left the sun room, had turned to walk back into the maze of hallways and dead-ends - but now it was only a single straight path going on forever. There were others, people, around him, and darkness ahead. Ari felt the knife in his hand, gripped the hilt tightly a moment, then dropped it and broke into a run down the tunnel and into the dark.

He awoke abruptly, the shift between dream and waking sudden and disorienting. He lay in a tangled mess of bedding, alone, the chill of sweat on his skin and tears in his eyes. He lifted a hand to scrub at his eyes, a small choked noise in his throat as he tried to untangle himself from the nightmare, push it out of his mind. He remembered a knife's edge and fire and blame. He didn't want to.

He didn't remember the coin he found in his grip, after he had done his best to grind the tears from his skin. It hadn't been in the dream, but it also hadn't been something he had ever had before. Still, there was something comforting about it, and it was a distraction from the muddle of thoughts screaming in his brain. He focused on it, on the tactile sensations of moving it in his hand, feeling the grooves and marks in its surface.

But that distraction couldn't last forever, and his thoughts drifted back to where they had been. Before his eyes could begin leaking again he forced himself out of bed, grabbing sheet to wrap around himself for modesty - he remembered that the dragon-son was here, after all - and then made his way to the pantry. He needed... something to drink... something strong so he wouldn't have to think anymore... At least for a little while.