The Eye of Anubis: Book Five
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Rock of the Fraternity
- Evil Genius
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"Let us see whether we are dealing with trinkets first, however," Lia amends. "Perhaps some great and terrible secret is cloistered beyond this rainbow of riddles, instead. Or perhaps this is the gateway to the private quarters of some highborn person. Whatever it was, I can scan it for magical activity, rest assured."
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The Whistler
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"Eh? I know a man who makes those..." Otto deadpanned it, but it soon became apparent that he was repressing a smile.yalenusveler wrote:"And a Lamordian haunted house would involve sinister clockwork dolls with all too realistic faces that somehow speak, their whirring clockwork mechanisms sounding suspiciously like the beating of tiny hearts."
"Excellent. Always a good thing to be cautious, yes. Though when you are finished...may I do the honors?" He gestured toward the door, body language reading somewhere between "trepidatious" and "maybe actually looking forward to this, perversely"--and it said something about his body language that it could actually *read* "trepidatious" as clearly as it did. "I will be discreet, but I must admit...I am curious."Rock wrote:"Whatever it was, I can scan it for magical activity, rest assured."
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Rock of the Fraternity
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- Posts: 6836
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The Whistler
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NeoTiamat
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- Location: Boston, Massachusetts, USA
The Lord's Bedroom, Level Six, Keep
May 26th, 761, 1:52 PM; Day 70 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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She wore a white dress, the desert dryness still giving it a fresh, crisp look after who knows how many decades... centuries? Khalil knew that the dating of the dead was a tricky matter in the desert, where a corpse seemingly a year old could have lain for centuries beneath the sands.
A few wisps of hair still clung to the skeletal scalp, and the body was arranged in a form of repose, so seemingly peaceful that one could almost miss the misalignment of the spine, the surefire signs of the broken neck. Around the ancient skeleton's neck, a small, brass key hung on a dessicated leather cord.
Sikarba'al's Suite, Level Seven, Keep
May 26th, 761, 1:52 PM; Day 70 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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The seven-paneled door opened with remarkable ease, without any squeaking of hinges or ominous rattles, simply pushing open at Otto’s lightest touch. The first room you entered, in fact, was rather anticlimactic, being no more than a simple coatroom with some hooks upon which several robes hung, and a number of stout sandals. Rather clean actually, the fabric of the robes still retained the luminous royal purples and midnight blues of yesteryear.
…In fact, there was no dust.
…But everything else in the keep was covered in layers of it.
…Very odd.
“Someone had very good fashion taste.” Maleagant noted. “And a very good maid service.”
The next room, however, made up for it, for it seemed that you had stumbled upon a wizard’s laboratory. The scent was your first clue, the sweet smell of sandalwood and frankincense, a medley of spices that seemed to hint at something more alive then the cold classrooms of the University of Dementlieu’s Arcane Sciences Department. Sunlight filtered in through unbroken glass windows, illuminating the room and giving it a feel of preserved age, not the rampant decay elsewhere.
The workroom had a certain spare elegance about it as you entered, consisting of no more than a few worktables and a stand for scrolls and tablets of all sizes and materials. Some of the scrolls were of linen paper or papyrus, but some were of colors and textures you could only begin to imagine. Was that pebbly, green scroll truly written on a single piece of snakeskin? Was that truly a tablet of solid brass? How could anyone write on such things?
Beside the scroll-case, a miniature forge stood, with hammer and poker and tongs only lightly rusted, a small supply of coal beneath the cold, dead forge. On a nearby table, ingots of metal and lumps of ore waited for use, but they were like no metal you had ever seen before. A lump of dark-grey iron, pitted and pocked, with sickly green veins flowing throughout the iron ore. Three ingots of a dark, purple-tinged metal, as though steel was covered in some horrid blight, but still gleaming in the sunlight. An ingot of some shimmering, silvery-red metal lay beside these, and next to it, a piece of quartz-like crystal.
But your attention was caught not by the scrolls, or the forge, or even the odd scrawlings on the floor, circles and pentacles with symbols in dozens of languages, of which you could pick out Akiri and Draconic only. No, what caught your eye was the desk.
It wasn’t the desk, per se, which was but a simple creation of ebony wood, but rather what was upon it. Several open scrolls, held open by whatever items were at hand; a rock, a tiny orrery, an ink vial with the long quill still sticking out of the dried and evaporated ink. And beside these, a cage, whatever occupant it had now long since reduced to a tangled skeleton, something with too many limbs, too many wings, and too many claws.
…And next to it, on a simple knob, was a mask. It was an altogether less martial affair than that which you had seen before, only covering the top half of the face, and being less helmet than headdress, with glittering gold and silver woven into the dark silk. But it was undeniably a jackal-mask, eerily similar to that which you had seen the Anubite wear so often.
The Chapel, Level Five, Keep
May 26th, 761, 1:52 PM; Day 70 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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“Er… thank you again.” Devereux said as the trio of explorers departed the barracks. “Er… very sorry to be a bother.”
“It’s alright. Glad to help.” Dieter said brightly. “So where to Prof?”
The trio prowled around the lower reaches of the keep for a bit, and noticed little beyond the extraordinary, unless one counted Devereux’s nervousness as extraordinary. The professor and writer of popular histories shied at every noise and jumped at every shadow. Or even at none.
Certainly neither Kuzan nor Dieter had the foggiest idea of why, while passing across the courtyard, the professor suddenly looked as though a goose had walked over his grave. The scrawny academic stopped dead still, turning around slowly to stare at a patch of inoffensive ground, and then virtually ran past the two youths into the keep. Dieter stared at the ground, glanced at Kuzan, and twiddled his finger in the universal gesture of ‘Devereux? Him craaaaaaazy!’
Eventually, the would-be explorers reached a room that must have been the keep’s chapel in some bygone era. The wooden pews certainly argued for such an interpretation, as did the altar at the end of the room, with its candles and books and desiccated cloth covering. This had once been one of the worshipper of Diamabel, and it differed from the myriad mosques of Phiraz not a whit in style, though the details hinted at an earlier, simpler age. Granted, a skeleton of a man who could only be the priest was not quite standard issue in such locations, but somehow, it almost fit with the mood of the keep.
The priest, in life, had been a short, tubby man, and even his old, decrepit bones told the same tale. His vestments had once been a brilliant white, but now were merely off-color yellow, spattered and stained by the dark, brown stains of a violent death. Around his neck, a leather cord held a small, brass key, while a silver holy symbol of a spread-winged angel hung from a simple silver chain.
Devereux looked about the chapel, and Kuzan could see the man’s Adam’s apple bob in nervousness as he scanned every corner with slightly bulging eyes. Dieter sent Kuzan a resigned look, but what could you do?
May 26th, 761, 1:52 PM; Day 70 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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The musty, dry smelling curtains parted with ease, moving with a soft rustle to let the desert guide take a look at the bed, and its occupant.Lostboy wrote:Then he steps silently across the room, keeping his breathing quiet and his footfalls light, so not to alert any potential threat, and with an intake of breath he parts the curtain with the scimitar.
She wore a white dress, the desert dryness still giving it a fresh, crisp look after who knows how many decades... centuries? Khalil knew that the dating of the dead was a tricky matter in the desert, where a corpse seemingly a year old could have lain for centuries beneath the sands.
A few wisps of hair still clung to the skeletal scalp, and the body was arranged in a form of repose, so seemingly peaceful that one could almost miss the misalignment of the spine, the surefire signs of the broken neck. Around the ancient skeleton's neck, a small, brass key hung on a dessicated leather cord.
Sikarba'al's Suite, Level Seven, Keep
May 26th, 761, 1:52 PM; Day 70 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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The seven-paneled door opened with remarkable ease, without any squeaking of hinges or ominous rattles, simply pushing open at Otto’s lightest touch. The first room you entered, in fact, was rather anticlimactic, being no more than a simple coatroom with some hooks upon which several robes hung, and a number of stout sandals. Rather clean actually, the fabric of the robes still retained the luminous royal purples and midnight blues of yesteryear.
…In fact, there was no dust.
…But everything else in the keep was covered in layers of it.
…Very odd.
“Someone had very good fashion taste.” Maleagant noted. “And a very good maid service.”
The next room, however, made up for it, for it seemed that you had stumbled upon a wizard’s laboratory. The scent was your first clue, the sweet smell of sandalwood and frankincense, a medley of spices that seemed to hint at something more alive then the cold classrooms of the University of Dementlieu’s Arcane Sciences Department. Sunlight filtered in through unbroken glass windows, illuminating the room and giving it a feel of preserved age, not the rampant decay elsewhere.
The workroom had a certain spare elegance about it as you entered, consisting of no more than a few worktables and a stand for scrolls and tablets of all sizes and materials. Some of the scrolls were of linen paper or papyrus, but some were of colors and textures you could only begin to imagine. Was that pebbly, green scroll truly written on a single piece of snakeskin? Was that truly a tablet of solid brass? How could anyone write on such things?
Beside the scroll-case, a miniature forge stood, with hammer and poker and tongs only lightly rusted, a small supply of coal beneath the cold, dead forge. On a nearby table, ingots of metal and lumps of ore waited for use, but they were like no metal you had ever seen before. A lump of dark-grey iron, pitted and pocked, with sickly green veins flowing throughout the iron ore. Three ingots of a dark, purple-tinged metal, as though steel was covered in some horrid blight, but still gleaming in the sunlight. An ingot of some shimmering, silvery-red metal lay beside these, and next to it, a piece of quartz-like crystal.
But your attention was caught not by the scrolls, or the forge, or even the odd scrawlings on the floor, circles and pentacles with symbols in dozens of languages, of which you could pick out Akiri and Draconic only. No, what caught your eye was the desk.
It wasn’t the desk, per se, which was but a simple creation of ebony wood, but rather what was upon it. Several open scrolls, held open by whatever items were at hand; a rock, a tiny orrery, an ink vial with the long quill still sticking out of the dried and evaporated ink. And beside these, a cage, whatever occupant it had now long since reduced to a tangled skeleton, something with too many limbs, too many wings, and too many claws.
…And next to it, on a simple knob, was a mask. It was an altogether less martial affair than that which you had seen before, only covering the top half of the face, and being less helmet than headdress, with glittering gold and silver woven into the dark silk. But it was undeniably a jackal-mask, eerily similar to that which you had seen the Anubite wear so often.
The Chapel, Level Five, Keep
May 26th, 761, 1:52 PM; Day 70 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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“Er… thank you again.” Devereux said as the trio of explorers departed the barracks. “Er… very sorry to be a bother.”
“It’s alright. Glad to help.” Dieter said brightly. “So where to Prof?”
The trio prowled around the lower reaches of the keep for a bit, and noticed little beyond the extraordinary, unless one counted Devereux’s nervousness as extraordinary. The professor and writer of popular histories shied at every noise and jumped at every shadow. Or even at none.
Certainly neither Kuzan nor Dieter had the foggiest idea of why, while passing across the courtyard, the professor suddenly looked as though a goose had walked over his grave. The scrawny academic stopped dead still, turning around slowly to stare at a patch of inoffensive ground, and then virtually ran past the two youths into the keep. Dieter stared at the ground, glanced at Kuzan, and twiddled his finger in the universal gesture of ‘Devereux? Him craaaaaaazy!’
Eventually, the would-be explorers reached a room that must have been the keep’s chapel in some bygone era. The wooden pews certainly argued for such an interpretation, as did the altar at the end of the room, with its candles and books and desiccated cloth covering. This had once been one of the worshipper of Diamabel, and it differed from the myriad mosques of Phiraz not a whit in style, though the details hinted at an earlier, simpler age. Granted, a skeleton of a man who could only be the priest was not quite standard issue in such locations, but somehow, it almost fit with the mood of the keep.
The priest, in life, had been a short, tubby man, and even his old, decrepit bones told the same tale. His vestments had once been a brilliant white, but now were merely off-color yellow, spattered and stained by the dark, brown stains of a violent death. Around his neck, a leather cord held a small, brass key, while a silver holy symbol of a spread-winged angel hung from a simple silver chain.
Devereux looked about the chapel, and Kuzan could see the man’s Adam’s apple bob in nervousness as he scanned every corner with slightly bulging eyes. Dieter sent Kuzan a resigned look, but what could you do?
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
"Like it's been used..." Tomas agrees, because someone has to state the obvious and Kuzan's downstairs. "Wait...was ist das?!"
Immediately, Tomas turns around, because this is always the part of the story where, when the heroes find the villain's lair, he...she, Tomas corrects himself...catches them red handed.
Immediately, Tomas turns around, because this is always the part of the story where, when the heroes find the villain's lair, he...she, Tomas corrects himself...catches them red handed.
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yalenusveler
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- Location: Pennsylvania...or Baator
Andre didn't notice the mask at first, instead his eyes casting about the room, trying to pick out what he could understand from the scrolls, and the tablet..and just well, all the writing. It was pretty obvious that if Andre could, he would simply remove this entire room from the keep, and take it with the expedition.
"Wait..is tha...oh this just became infinitely more complicated." Andre said, his voice deadpan at the end as he FINALLY noticed the mask.
"Wait..is tha...oh this just became infinitely more complicated." Andre said, his voice deadpan at the end as he FINALLY noticed the mask.
"Sometimes, Mr.Liquor cabinet is my only friend"
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The Whistler
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Otto, meanwhile, seemed almost entirely oblivious that the mask existed--at least, as something other than a relatively insignificant part of everything else in the room, which he suddenly felt the urge to look at simultaneously.
...Knowledge!
The middle-aged undergraduate's mouth actually fell open, slightly, and for half a moment it looked as if something had short-circuited in his brain. Then--without any perceptible intermediary state between beatific stillness and action--he was off on a whirlwind circuit around the laboratory, examining every conceivable apparatus as closely as possible without actually touching it. It was rather difficult to focus on him clearly for a good while; when he paused briefly in order to respond to Andre's comment, he was bent sideways over a pile of scrolls, adjusting his spectacles with one hand, digging his gloves out of a side pocket with the other, and somehow *also* holding...yes, those were definitely *two* pairs of tongs.
"...Eh? Oh, ja, ja...Tomas? Would you mind to be using...your talents, and to be reporting to me the results? Always good to see the sinister if is...<hold on a sec>...present."
OOC: Sent off a whole bunch of Knowledge (arcana) and Search checks to Neo.
...Knowledge!
The middle-aged undergraduate's mouth actually fell open, slightly, and for half a moment it looked as if something had short-circuited in his brain. Then--without any perceptible intermediary state between beatific stillness and action--he was off on a whirlwind circuit around the laboratory, examining every conceivable apparatus as closely as possible without actually touching it. It was rather difficult to focus on him clearly for a good while; when he paused briefly in order to respond to Andre's comment, he was bent sideways over a pile of scrolls, adjusting his spectacles with one hand, digging his gloves out of a side pocket with the other, and somehow *also* holding...yes, those were definitely *two* pairs of tongs.
"...Eh? Oh, ja, ja...Tomas? Would you mind to be using...your talents, and to be reporting to me the results? Always good to see the sinister if is...<hold on a sec>...present."
OOC: Sent off a whole bunch of Knowledge (arcana) and Search checks to Neo.
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The Whistler
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"...Oh, and. The diagram on the floor is using a sigil combination of unusual potency in comparison to size of the circle and overall simplicity of pattern, thus, need for extra binding mechanisms in small space might indicate summoning of fiends, though of relatively low level; spell mechanism is divine, as interpolated through scrolls of that type being on desk--Ancient Akiri character system, by the by; thing in cage is not being classified on any page of Gottlieb's Bestiary or Smyde & Ledger's Catalog of Arcane Fauna--latest editions, including appendices; recent monographs on Akiri religious iconography suggests mask type on desk holds ceremonial usage, as opposed to the utilitarian variety worn by Anubite; and as regarding the forge..."
Otto breathed.
"...Is...anyone else familiar with the forge?"
Otto breathed.
"...Is...anyone else familiar with the forge?"
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Nathan of the FoS
- Fiendish Enforcer
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Charles, like Otto, makes a circuit of the room, exclaiming under his breath over the various arcana to be found; unlike Otto's, his search is rather prefunctory. "Sorry, haven't the foggiest," he says to Otto in response to the question about the forge. "As for the mask...interesting, isn't it, Professor Theroux? I wonder if we've wandered into the secret hideout of the Cult of Anubis...Advertio arcanum."
There is a flicker of light before Charles' eyes as he turns to scan the room. "Mists, but there's a lot of magic in this room. More than a dozen active enchantments...maintenance spells against dust and so forth? A fair number of the scrolls are magical...maybe we'd better not touch them at present, they seem to have been protected. The pattern on the floor is from a conjuring, a bit stronger than the other things here...actually, I suppose you just told us that, M'sieur Schultheiss."
Letting the light flicker out, Charles says, "Well. I wonder if someone will be coming back to this little wizard's-nest--or if it's just been like this for the last few decades."
There is a flicker of light before Charles' eyes as he turns to scan the room. "Mists, but there's a lot of magic in this room. More than a dozen active enchantments...maintenance spells against dust and so forth? A fair number of the scrolls are magical...maybe we'd better not touch them at present, they seem to have been protected. The pattern on the floor is from a conjuring, a bit stronger than the other things here...actually, I suppose you just told us that, M'sieur Schultheiss."
Letting the light flicker out, Charles says, "Well. I wonder if someone will be coming back to this little wizard's-nest--or if it's just been like this for the last few decades."
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena:
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Rock of the Fraternity
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 6836
- Joined: Wed Nov 21, 2007 1:16 pm
Lia calmly waits for Otto to finish, then raises one hand in one of the most basic signs and speaks two simple words: "Occultum video."
The Mordentishwoman looks left and right, surveying the contents of the room. "Well," she sighs. "I suppose this explains eminently well why someone would take the effort to set up a magical gate to protect this place. If the rest of the fortress was held by worshippers of Diamabel, a lone follower of Anubis would be balancing on a sword's edge in here."
Lia shakes her head. "It would be bad irony if we find out this is one of the Anubite's lairs, later on. Very bad. Once we have ascertained that there are no magical traps lingering here or find a way to undo such traps as are there, however, I think Andre might be interested in perusing some of the scrolls ...?"
Abruptly, Lia shakes herself and grunts. "No, wait. Stupid. My brain must still be aching from that blasted heatstroke. This place looks older than the great prophet of spit's palace. What was I thinking? No. But still, magical laboratories are unbelievably precious. Plenty of reasons to keep it locked away."
(OOC: Cast Detect Magic, later followed by Detect Poison.)
After a few minutes, Lia nods. "Mostly minor abjurations, indeed," she mutters as she walks over to the desk, careful not to step on the summoning patterns. "Should be safe, indeed, indeed ..."
Mumbling something the others can not hear, Lia moves closer to the desk and pulls off her hood. For a moment, the others in the room can see the back of Lia's actual head, now only covered by her veil. Her hair falls roughly to her shoulders, its colour impossible to determine under the gauzy veil, but clearly very light.
"Venenum video," Lia chants, moving her hands over the jackal headdress -- then picks it up and slips it over her head. Turning around, the Mordentishwoman regards the rest of the expedition almost coyly. "Well," she says, exhibiting a lighter, almost playful voice, "it was time for a fashion upgrade, I suppose. Does it suit me? Oh, and incidentally --" Lia makes a regal gesture to the forge with one gloved hand "-- do not touch the pockmarked, greenish-looking metal. It is poisonous."
The Mordentishwoman looks left and right, surveying the contents of the room. "Well," she sighs. "I suppose this explains eminently well why someone would take the effort to set up a magical gate to protect this place. If the rest of the fortress was held by worshippers of Diamabel, a lone follower of Anubis would be balancing on a sword's edge in here."
Lia shakes her head. "It would be bad irony if we find out this is one of the Anubite's lairs, later on. Very bad. Once we have ascertained that there are no magical traps lingering here or find a way to undo such traps as are there, however, I think Andre might be interested in perusing some of the scrolls ...?"
Abruptly, Lia shakes herself and grunts. "No, wait. Stupid. My brain must still be aching from that blasted heatstroke. This place looks older than the great prophet of spit's palace. What was I thinking? No. But still, magical laboratories are unbelievably precious. Plenty of reasons to keep it locked away."
(OOC: Cast Detect Magic, later followed by Detect Poison.)
After a few minutes, Lia nods. "Mostly minor abjurations, indeed," she mutters as she walks over to the desk, careful not to step on the summoning patterns. "Should be safe, indeed, indeed ..."
Mumbling something the others can not hear, Lia moves closer to the desk and pulls off her hood. For a moment, the others in the room can see the back of Lia's actual head, now only covered by her veil. Her hair falls roughly to her shoulders, its colour impossible to determine under the gauzy veil, but clearly very light.
"Venenum video," Lia chants, moving her hands over the jackal headdress -- then picks it up and slips it over her head. Turning around, the Mordentishwoman regards the rest of the expedition almost coyly. "Well," she says, exhibiting a lighter, almost playful voice, "it was time for a fashion upgrade, I suppose. Does it suit me? Oh, and incidentally --" Lia makes a regal gesture to the forge with one gloved hand "-- do not touch the pockmarked, greenish-looking metal. It is poisonous."
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NeoTiamat
- Evil Genius
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- Gender: Male
- Location: Boston, Massachusetts, USA
Sikarba'al's Suite, Level Seven, Keep
May 26th, 761, 2:09 PM; Day 70 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"All Hail the Queen of Sebua!" Maleagant intoned in formal, ringing tones, bowing from the waist to Lia. "Fear her awesome power, and cower before her strident wrath!"
The Borcan straightened, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Looks a little like you're preparing to go to one of the more unusual masques in Dementlieu."
May 26th, 761, 2:09 PM; Day 70 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"Unless you consider old university passes, fraid not." Maleagant commented, pacing the outside of the room and looking at the various scrolls and metals and such with interest.The Whistler wrote:"...Is...anyone else familiar with the forge?"
"Could be longer." Samael said, peering at a scroll in the shelves. "I don't think anyone's actually written Ancient Akiri for a millenia."Nathan of the FoS wrote:"As for the mask...interesting, isn't it, Professor Theroux? I wonder if we've wandered into the secret hideout of the Cult of Anubis...Advertio arcanum."
Letting the light flicker out, Charles says, "Well. I wonder if someone will be coming back to this little wizard's-nest--or if it's just been like this for the last few decades."
Rock wrote:"Well," Lia says, exhibiting a lighter, almost playful voice, "it was time for a fashion upgrade, I suppose. Does it suit me?"
"All Hail the Queen of Sebua!" Maleagant intoned in formal, ringing tones, bowing from the waist to Lia. "Fear her awesome power, and cower before her strident wrath!"
The Borcan straightened, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Looks a little like you're preparing to go to one of the more unusual masques in Dementlieu."
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Khalil stares at the body for a few moments, not quite what he expected but then maybe a slightly regal looking corpse made more sense in these opulent surroundings.
Someone has laid this one out with reverence he ponders, then making his mind up that the key is probabley worth having, he taps the corpse lightly with the flat of his blade, just in case theres magic animating those bones.
Muttering a short prayer to Anubis to ignore the desecration of the dead he reaches forward and pulls the leather cord free from the body's broken neck.
[OOC: i have a bad,bad feeling about this but hey it'll be fun....
]
Someone has laid this one out with reverence he ponders, then making his mind up that the key is probabley worth having, he taps the corpse lightly with the flat of his blade, just in case theres magic animating those bones.
Muttering a short prayer to Anubis to ignore the desecration of the dead he reaches forward and pulls the leather cord free from the body's broken neck.
[OOC: i have a bad,bad feeling about this but hey it'll be fun....
]"I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space..."
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space..."
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yalenusveler
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"Is there ever a NORMAL Masque?" Andre asked, and since everyone else had poured willy nilly into the room, Andre moved to join them. "And you're right about the last time Ancient Akiri was a living language. Now, if rumor is true, there are probably several members of the dead who still speak it, but I'm not exactly chomping at the bit to ask how you say Hieroglyph 25"
Andre offered a weak smile. "If anyone would be so kind as to figure out what's the abjuration present on the scrolls, and then perhaps say remove said abjuration so I can read them without risk of horrible demise , I'd like to catalog them."
He then turned to Samael "Oh, now you've started. Soon it's going to go to her head, and when we're halfway across Sebua we'll run into some ancient bas relief of a queen that looks just like her, and things will be just horribly confusing. Can you imagine how insufferable her ego will get?" A quick smile to Lia made clear the ribbing was all in fun.
Andre offered a weak smile. "If anyone would be so kind as to figure out what's the abjuration present on the scrolls, and then perhaps say remove said abjuration so I can read them without risk of horrible demise , I'd like to catalog them."
He then turned to Samael "Oh, now you've started. Soon it's going to go to her head, and when we're halfway across Sebua we'll run into some ancient bas relief of a queen that looks just like her, and things will be just horribly confusing. Can you imagine how insufferable her ego will get?" A quick smile to Lia made clear the ribbing was all in fun.
"Sometimes, Mr.Liquor cabinet is my only friend"
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Nathan of the FoS
- Fiendish Enforcer
- Posts: 5247
- Joined: Fri Nov 28, 2003 3:39 pm
- Location: San Francisco CA
Charles is examining the metals laid out by the forge and doesn't see Lia put on the mask; when he turns around again at the mention of Dementlieuse masques he starts visibly.
"Well, m'selle," he says drily. "Are you forming a committee of the Cult of Anubis, Junior League?" His joke does not quite hide the fact that he's a little disturbed to see Lia in the mask.
"I suppose it's up to our history buffs to say more about...this," he says, gesturing vaguely to the room and its contents. "Was there ever a Cult of Anubis in Pharazia? Actually, maybe we should check the books downstairs; there's probably something on it in the history of the cult we got."
"Well, m'selle," he says drily. "Are you forming a committee of the Cult of Anubis, Junior League?" His joke does not quite hide the fact that he's a little disturbed to see Lia in the mask.
"I suppose it's up to our history buffs to say more about...this," he says, gesturing vaguely to the room and its contents. "Was there ever a Cult of Anubis in Pharazia? Actually, maybe we should check the books downstairs; there's probably something on it in the history of the cult we got."
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena: