The Eye of Anubis: Book Five

[NeoTiamat]

The Courtyard, Level One, Dežbār Keep
May 29th, 761, 7:09 AM; Day 73 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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Nothing happens.

[The Whistler]

Somewhere in the very back of Otto's mind--i.e. the part that is *not* currently occupied with incendiary weapons--it is registered that there is some sort of ceremony going on down below him. It is registered that the ceremony must be crucial to...something, otherwise everyone presumably wouldn't be making such a fuss about it. It is also registered that the ceremony has hit some sort of snag, and that he should probably assist somehow...though exactly what that snag *is* is difficult to focus on directly, at the moment.

....

...Ah. That's it.

"HEART-FIRE: BLOOD! A BLOOD SACRIFICE--POUR THE BLOOD IN THE BOTTLE OVER THE FLAME--"

--Yells Otto, as he hovers face-down forty feet above the ground, pumping a bullet directly into the fireling below him--

OOC: Gotta give Rock the credit for the riddle idea, though I think Tomas also mentioned it earlier... 19 and 1, respectively, for the attack and damage rolls; regardless, I hope I can distract 'em.

[yalenusveler]

Andre heard Otto's yell, and being the individual in posession of the bottle, did as indicated, hoping that this worked, because the other option he thought of, seeing that dark core within each of their new guests of Choleric humor...was not going to be an easy one.

[steveflam]

Ishaq move to help in dealing with the firelings, brandishing his massive greatsword. Grunting and growling he rages once more. Swinging his greatsword at the first fireling he sees, he attempts to harm, it unsure how he can affect it but giving it his all.

Ist attack 30/dmg 19 2nd attack, 28/(nat 19) but don;t know if I can crit that thing or even hit it so 21 dmg.

[yalenusveler]

"ISHAQ!" Andre bellowed, looking up from the ineffectual use of the blood. "Take one of those things down, and bring me its heart!"

"Stupid literal fiends...stupid stupid stupid literal..." The scholar grumbled, starting to rifle through his pack for a specific bit of parchment.

[NeoTiamat]

The Courtyard, Level One, Dežbār Keep
May 29th, 761, 7:09 AM; Day 73 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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The red blood poured onto the Sefer Raziel HaMalakh... and poured right off, without a change in sound or sight of the book.

The same changeless situation could not be said for the burning men. Otto's bullet seemed to have attracted their attention alright. In the worst possible way. A half dozen of the silhouettes in black flame broke off from the engagement, walking unhurriedly towards the group at the back. They weren't walking very quickly, but they were not stopping.

Not for anything.

[Nathan of the FoS]

Charles looks down at the book, up at the approaching fire-men, and then briefly at the black coil of flames shivering in their "chests".

"Excuse me, m'selle," he mutters, grabbing the book out of Lia's hands. "Ledo!"

So saying, he throws the book as if it were a discus, straight at the nearest fireling's heart of flame.

Casting True Strike--and hoping and praying this is a good idea.

[lostboy]

Following Ishaq's example Khalil rushes forward whirlign both scimitars towards the nearest flame thign, in an attempt to buy some time.

[OOC: Full attack to hit 7 / 16 / 21 (last one is nat 18 but probabley fluffed the crit confirm with onyl a 15), if they hit damage is 5/3/4 all magical stylee...]

[NeoTiamat]

The Courtyard, Level One, Dežbār Keep
May 29th, 761, 7:11 AM; Day 73 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"Ledo!"

So saying, Charles throws the book as if it were a discus, straight at the nearest fireling's heart of flame.

End over end, the heavy grimoire hurtled through the air. One could say many things about Charles, but he had excellent aim, and reinforced by magecraft his was a shot Apollo would have been proud of. The Sefer Raziel HaMalakh was not an aerodynamic weapon by any happenstance, but it flew as swift and sure as a longbow's arrow.

Straight into the nearest of the burned men. What the spellbook lacked in form it made up in heft, and with a leather-covered edge, it caved in the fireling's chest, knocking it backwards and digging past the fire and charred muscle to break ribs and touch an edge to the heart.

A shimmering fire, pure crimson in color, ignited around the spellbook, a fourth and final element of the little riddle. For an instant, the kaleidoscope of colors remained, before merging into a single pure, white light.

Then the world exploded.

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A wordless roar of light burst out from the book, an immense, unimaginable conflagaration of luminescence The light poured over you, over the camels and the firelings. It burst through the cracks of the Keep, into the doors and down, down through the dungeons. It flowed high into the sky, a bonfire that could be seen throughout all of Sebua and Pharazia. Perhaps in his palace, Diamabel saw the spectacle of light.

Was was eerie, however, was the utter absence of sound. Perhaps it was simply too loud for your minds to comprehend, but you could not hear a word, not even your own breathing as the brilliant light blinded you. It was as though a second sun had been born atop the cliffs of Dezbar Keep.

For an eternity, the light burst across the castle, enshrouding Dezbar Keep in radiant light, too bright to look at. You wondered if your eyes would be burned out of your sockets. Then... then you realized that it was gone, and you were only blinking away the after images of that awesome, terrible explosion of light.

The Sefer Raziel HaMalakh was gone.

So were the firelings.

So was that damp, rust-scented feeling that had hounded you from the moment you had stepped into Dezbar Keep. It was simply... gone. There were no more ghosts. There were no more memories. No more resonance, or dead, or horror. Most of all, you knew that the Red King was no more. Marchosias, the Red King, the Lord of Passion, Marquis of Malbolge, was nothing more than a dim, fading memory.

All that was left of Dezbar Keep was an old, ruined building on the border of Sebua and Pharazia. And even that was not long for this world.

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You blinked yourselves back to sight and sound next to the gatehouse, but at the keep above, not all was well. The Hellfire had burned through the lower regions of the castle, and now, the burned out, weakened rock could no longer support the immense mass of Dezbar Keep.

So it collapsed.

If the towring castle had fallen forward, towards the gatehouse, then it was unlikely that a single one of you would have survived. But the main building of the keep, along with the upper courtyard simple imploded in on itself. Your first warning that something was wrong was when the courtyard cracked open, inward. With a stately, massive grace, Dezbar began to fall into the cistern.

Chunks of stone and masonry large enough to crush you as a beetle fell apart, into the water, raising a massive splash that you only heard from your position at the gatehouse. The top of the keep, where the Akiri magus had first learned of the attack upon Dezbar, simply slid off the top of the castle. It landed atop the barracks building, flattening your temporary home with a reverberating crash, before all of the rubble slid into the cistern below. Another section of the keep fell to the side, knocking the wall into pieces and sending a section of it crashing down the cliffside.

The din was incredible, almost as bad as the blinding light before. Crash after crash of rock against rock swept through the area, before resolving into a steady cascade of sound that just merged together in your ears. Even after the collapse had finished, the ringing in your ears remained.

Cautiously, you lowered the hands that you had shielded yourself from the dust and stray rubble and looked up at the once-cursed keep. Of the main building, nothing remained. The barracks was levels, as was the armory and almost all of the outbuildings. Only the stables, by some miracle, and the gatehouse where you congregated were spared. But Dezbar Keep was no more.

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Instead, something took its place. Your ears were still ringing from the awesome collapse of the castle when the bubblings water burbled up past the collapsed rubble. The cistern was filled in, but all of that water, all the moisture had to go somewhere. So it broke through, fueled by the subterranean spring, into the surface.

The cool, fresh water burst through not far from where the well once was, washing a great mass of dirt and light rubble before it. The great flood rushed down the stairs, streaming past you to ram into the wall beside the gatehouse... and broke it apart.

It turned into a waterfall. Brilliantly blue, cleansed now of the dirt and spiritual pollution, the waters of the cistern sparkled and danced as they flowed over the cliffside, down the ruins of Dezbar Keep. In time, a pool would form at the bottom, and what was once Dezbar Keep would become the Oasis of Dezbar, a boon to thirsty travelers across the Amber Wastes.

But now, it was just a tinkling waterfall. But the sun was shining, the morning air was not yet too hot, and even the God-Storm of Diamabel had ceased, pushed back temporarily by the power of the cataclysmic explosion of energy.

Most importantly, however, you were all alive. And that was a miracle worth celebrating.

[Nathan of the FoS]

After the destruction of the book, the disappearance of the firelings, the implosion of the keep, the eruption of the fountain...Charles pulls himself from the corner of the gatehouse where he had been half-thrown, half seeking shelter, and says, "Merciful Ezra."

At least, it appears that he says something like that--he, at least, can't hear a word he's saying.

Moving to where the water bursts from the rock, he sticks a hand into its flow and grins delightedly, bringing a handful to his mouth and drinking. "'S good!" he says, or mouths. Going to where the fall plunges to the desert floor, he looks down, then around, still grinning. "We're alive!" he shouts, turning back to the group, loudly enough that he can just barely hear himself make the announcement.

[Kaitou Kage]

"I told you!" the priest shouted at the ruins, one final defiant cry at their defeated foe, "I told you, there's nothing you can do about it!"

Then, Kuzan turned back to the gathered Expedition. The silly grin on his face threatened to split his head in half. Impulsively, he reached for the nearest person, capturing the hapless victim in a bear hug.

"We did it!" he laughed, "We made it out! We're free!"

Good work, everyone!

[DocBeard]

"Everything!" Tomas yells, "Is! The frick! On fire!" He wasn't taught the proper phrase, having been raised Lamordian, and thus boring. And then, the world explodes.

Well, what little part of Tomas isn't cringing in awe and terror at the horrifically beautiful sight in front of him, so much for my last remaining strands of skepticism about the supernatural. I'll miss you, strands.

Forever and a second mater, Tomas is face-down in the sand. Groaning as though suffering from a hangover of spiritual proportions, Tomas drags his torso up, looks around himself, and opens his mouth. Sand falls out. He tries again, hoping to assess the situation through grace and kindness. More sand falls out.

Finally he thinks 'Screw it', and shouts, "Headcount! Tomas, here!"

[steveflam]

Ishaq was at a loss for words. Never had he experienced anything of the sort. He knew not of he was alive or dead and now with the Prophet's chosen. When everything does down he actually touched himself to be sure he was solid. When he saw Kuzan hug some one his mouth grew a slight smile. So be it. I presume we have beaten this fiend and are alive for it. Praise the Prophet!

Looking at Tomas he spoke "I am here Effendi Tomas. Where else would I be?" He said with a wink.

[The Whistler]

There's your object lesson...absolute evil, in the flesh, observed. Barring a one-two punch of mass hallucination and spontaneous earthquakes, you know that this sort of thing exists, and you know some of what it can do. So: spin this like Pelletier would. There's your evidence; what're your conclusions? What's the take-away, sum-up lesson behind the past few days?

...Hm.

...All right, we call this experiment a wash.

"Here am I, sir! None the worse for wear, but better than a minute ago, yes?" A hint of a genuine smile crossed Otto's face, the first non-shaky one since the Expedition had left Phiraz.

Realizing that he was still hovering a few feet above the ground, the gunsmith touched down lightly, surveying the group.

"Now, considering in what circumstances we have been, I believe that our first priority is for a ten-hour nap, or several pints of hefeweizen per person. Or both."

[yalenusveler]

There was a look of sublime horror upon Andre's face the moment that the spell book left Charles hand. The world went slow motion, Andre feeling as if the weight of water was upon his shoulders, wanting to shout out, to try and stop him..to do something.

What that something turned out to be was stare agape in wild eyed wonder as the book caved in a fireling's chest, and the final part of the fiendish puzzle that had been vexing them came to light in a most spectacular fashion.

Needless to say, getting bear hugged by Kuzan brought a rather starteled expression to Andre's face, quickly replaced by utterly madcap joy at yes, being ALIVE. Returning the hug as best he could, and once Kuzan's grip was broken, returning the same vivacious attention to just about everyone he could, Andre shouted out.

"Andre Theroux, blessedly, wonderfully present and accounted for!"