The Eye of Anubis: A Second Interlude

[DocBeard]

"Who was the Abbot before you took up the position, if I may ask?" Tomas murmurs, his first words since the news that not only were there more secrets, but at least one of them was refusing to say anything.

Honestly, Tomas is fine with that. He laid his line in the sand, and it was everyone else's choice if they were going to cross or not. He doesn't quite look anyone in the eye, though.

What'll happen to Reiner when whatever he's hiding bites them in the ass after Tomas gave him an honest shot at coming clean will not be nearly as...straightforward.

[Nathan of the FoS]

Charles has taken the book and is reading it; since it's not very long (at least, the legible parts) he flips rapidly back and forward between the pages.

"It's hard to avoid the impression that M'sieur Hazel was...well, that he foresaw us," he says quietly, setting the book down. "This, perhaps, is the book he lays upon the altar, and we are the pawns he saw himself guiding."

Charles looks not only disturbed, but angry, in a distant, cold way. "Well. Pawns."

His face resuming its customary expression of cheerfulness, as if slipping on a mask, he continues, "Of course, if a pawn can get far enough it can choose its own role thereafter; knight, bishop, queen..."

Tapping another part of the manuscript, he continues, "We've already seen the book and the dagger mentioned at the end of the "traveling" stanza, I would guess. Marchosias and Ronoph have fallen, and good riddance. I don't know if that will make following this path easier, harder, or impossible."

Turning to the Abbot, Charles says, "He talks quite a bit of an Abbot in his writings, Your Reverence. Do you think he is referring to you, or to your predecessor?"

[NeoTiamat]

Dining Room, The Monastery of Stilled Nightmares, Sebua
July 20th, 761, 2:19 PM; Day 125 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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Myself, most likely. I am the first and the last to hold that office here. The Abbot said casually, then raised a hand to forestall objections. It is not so strange.

The young lady yonder The Abbot tilted his head to Sarari. Is likely past her first century of life. My own life is long, but no more peculiar.

[DocBeard]

"Hey, my mom always said, as long as they were not trying to eat your still beating heart, not being human wasn't an excuse for poor manners." Tomas reasons, and it is in fact almost exactly how his mom used to phrase the truism. As far as he's concerned, while the Abbot sure does act shady from time to time, he's been straight with them, and hospitable besides. So what if he feels like some sort of fish man?

"Speaking of manners, gosh, this fellow did not seem to like you very much, nich war?" Tomas asks in his perfectly innocent tone of voice, as though he were talking about an unflattering crayon drawing instead of a sinister prophecy.

[NeoTiamat]

Dining Room, The Monastery of Stilled Nightmares, Sebua
July 20th, 761, 2:19 PM; Day 125 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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Thank you Tomas. The Abbot said amiably. After a while, one almost got used to the queer mental whisper that reverberated in your mind when he spoke. Almost. I do not know... when he lived, I wouldn't not have said that Hazel was sane enough to hate anyone.

Most of the rest of the Expedition took their turns looking through the little booklet as well. It was short, and most of it such gibberish as to be utterly meaningless, even as prophecy. A few lines, of course, made a kind of poetic sense even.

"Strange..." Professor Carter pronounced after having read it, passing it along to the next person, who proved to be Professor Devereux. "Here you go Charles, any thoughts?"

"Er..." Professor Devereux looked at the little pamphlet with the expression usually reserved for large, scuttling spiders. Spiders the size of terriers. With human faces. "...No."

Gingerly, Devereux slid it across the table towards the next person. When he thought no one was looking, he shuddered.

[lostboy]

Sascha sits with his head bowed in contemplation as the debate regarding leadership and course of action carries on around him.

How deep their destiny seems mired in darkness he thinks as more revelations come to light, a more sensible man would have said his goodbyes and moved in the opposite direction as quickly as possible, but the notion of retreat was an alien one to the knight. But then even if Sascha had wanted to it wasnt his choice anymore was it? Honour and morality are strict mistresses, but such is the price of the chance I have been granted, he muses looking up as Devereux hands him the book.

He fans the pages quickly, scanning a page or two at the most before handing on to someone with more patience for these things. "So are the clues and prophecies within this volume enough to chart a course across the desert?" He asks in a low voice that carries "Who or where is the Green Lady or the King Silver, or any of the others mentioned, do you have any idea perchance your grace?" He asks looking deferentially at the Abbot. "Surely you must have wondered on the meaning of the mans words in the last 250 years?"

[yalenusveler]

"It's possible that he could have killed himself because this was the part he was supposed to play on the stage of fate." Andre said, peering over the slim volume, though most certainly making a note of Devereux's adverse reaction. "He received his revelation, he made his writings, and then he finally, mercifully, could die."

"And, unrelated, Abbot..where is your homeland...and if I remind you of you when you were young..do we possibly share the same span of years?" It was a personal question really, but one that was gnawing at Andre.

[Nathan of the FoS]

"He does mention you several times, Your Reverence," Charles notes. "Do you understand these references? The 'dreams of flesh' you are credited with suppressing; the art you 'forced back into him'...your 'severed feet' threatening to shatter the stage you stand on. Recent events give me some idea of what he might be talking about, but we would all be very glad of any further light you can cast on these references."

[DocBeard]

"In all fairness, he could just be crazy." Tomas offers, shrugging a little. Did it matter? The important thing was to figure out how to get to the tomb before Malegant's posse, wasn't it?

[The Whistler]

Otto reaches down and scratches behind Small-Star's ears. Struggles over Ultimate Expedition Power notwithstanding, as the one man left standing with "mystical communion with lupine-kind" on his resume, he figures that he's pretty much a shoo-in for the position of Guy Who Looks Out For The Wolf. Not that he minds; from what small conversation he's had with Small-Star, she seems like stand-up company.

Stand-on-four-legs company. Whatever.

"In all fairness, he could just be crazy."

"This is a true thing, Herr Eisenwald, but we are not left with many options, yes? To reach the Tomb before our...before them, it is necessary not only to locate the site, but to travel upon a shorter route than that of our rivals by whatever means we are able to." He grimaces slightly. "I have never been one to risk interpreting poetic license as a route map, but..."

[NeoTiamat]

Dining Room, The Monastery of Stilled Nightmares, Sebua
July 20th, 761, 2:23 PM; Day 125 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"So are the clues and prophecies within this volume enough to chart a course across the desert?" Sascha asks in a low voice that carries "Who or where is the Green Lady or the King Silver, or any of the others mentioned, do you have any idea perchance your grace?" He asks looking deferentially at the Abbot. "Surely you must have wondered on the meaning of the mans words in the last 250 years?"

In truth, I have few insights to grant. Some of it is reminiscent of actual events, but most is either unconnected to myself, too obscure to be understood, or referring to events not yet occurred. The Abbot spread his hands. That said, I may be able to give some advice.

There is an oasis some four day's journey to the east. I have spoken to nomads who sometimes visit, and they call it the home of a 'Water-Child', which I am given to understand is a moss-covered rock formation of vaguely humanoid shape. This may be the Green Maiden of Hazel's poems.

Beyond that... I fear is too distant for me to tell. I have not left this Monastery in many, many decades.

"And, unrelated, Abbot..where is your homeland...and if I remind you of you when you were young..do we possibly share the same span of years?" It was a personal question really, but one that was gnawing at Andre.

My homeland is rather distant, and it is unlikely that you have heard of it. The Abbot said dismissively, but with finality. As for the span of years... That is for Fate to judge, not I.

"He does mention you several times, Your Reverence," Charles notes. "Do you understand these references? The 'dreams of flesh' you are credited with suppressing; the art you 'forced back into him'...your 'severed feet' threatening to shatter the stage you stand on. Recent events give me some idea of what he might be talking about, but we would all be very glad of any further light you can cast on these references."

It may refer to my attempts to cure of his madness. I attempted to use medicinal herbs at times, as well as hypnosis and similar techniques. It did little good, and before his death Derry Hazel attempted to kill himself on more than one occasion.

He once slit his wrists with a sharp sliver of wood and nearly bled to death before he was rescued. I assumed this was the reference to the bleeding of the art...

In truth, I do not know. Perhaps the art was his writings, or something altogether different. I simply do not know.

[OOC: Alright, I think all is settled here. You guys will be proceeding to the Dread City of Kamarn-Quse via the instructions in Derry Hazel's map. Lia will get her two days of scribing, and I shall begin Book Nine either later today or tomorrow, time permitting. I'll keep the Interlude open a while longer, but there's not really much to say. The Abbot knows no more of Derry Hazel's meanings than you.]

[Kaitou Kage]

Kuzan looked over the poem again and frowned a little.

"The Black Key to Unlock the Gate is in Kamarn-Quse," he said quietly, as if making some kind of little revelation to himself.

[lostboy]

Sashca pauses for a moment as he looks at the seven hundred year old priest who looked as if he had seen barely more than 20 winters. The Knight wonders briefly if anything stranger about his new companions was about to be revealed. Not that it mattered as if they chose to accept him, Sascha could do nothing less than return their trust, regardles of what or who they were.

Shaking his head slightly he returns to the issue at hand. "So it appears we have a starting point at this Oasis, but do we have a map of the desert beyond that? Or did the betrayers take that with them?" He asks looking around the table.