The Eye of Anubis: Book Eleven

[Isabella]

The Tomb of Menetnashte
August 30th, 761, 4:00 AM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"Interested in the sciences, you said?" Edmund asked, looking up at the glowing glass fixtures. He seemed to have recovered a bit from the ordeal with the scorpion, and was now speaking freely again. "Are those lamps? Where's the oil kept?"

The captain walked across the metal floor to get a better look at his surroundings, momentarily leaving Devereux to himself; the Professor had looked down at Tomas' words and hadn't really looked up again. "Is this what a chapel to 'Lothurr' is supposed to look like?" Harris asked, not really expecting an answer. "I'd thought the chapels back in Mordent were simple, but this place feels empty. No scripture, no icons... nothing beyond a name." Harris paused for a moment, regarding the temple. "There's no point to the alcoves if there's nothing to place in them. There isn't even anything to sit on."

"That's... odd." Devereux chimed in, from the other end of the chapel.

"Professor? What is?" Harris asked, quickly returning to where the other man stood. The captain seemed extremely interested in knowing about anything that Devereux would label as "odd."

Devereux was still staring down, now at his pocketwatch, as if to distract himself from his own surroundings. He looked uncomfortable with the sudden attention. "Oh... nothing important. It just, ah... didn't feel like we'd been in here for a day... is all."

"We haven't," Edmund said, though he sounded far from certain. He pointed at Devereux's watch. "It's four in the afternoon."

"No, it's... four in the morning. I... can tell," Devereux said. "From the gears," he added, after entirely too long a pause.

"Well," Edmund sighed, staring at the exitless chapel. "Let's hope four in the morning is still in time."

[DocBeard]

"That's the problem with mystical vision quests." Tomas notes, shrugging a little. Either he is oblivious to Devereaux's troubles, or too polite to say anything...

"Professor, why the devil are you acting like this place is made of poison?" Oh wait no he's not. "Is there something we should know about? Are you mad at me? I mean, I thought..." As he's saying this, Tomas is investigating one of the alcoves, looking for, well, something. Anything. "...we had straightened things out, but I was once told I have all the emotional depth of a teaspoon."

"Guys? Is something wrong?" Tomas frowns again. At least Harris isn't afraid. "Harris, I honestly don't know. I swear, I'm not keeping anything from you all that would relate to this 'Lothurr' or whoever he is. I mean, if this god guy's interested in me he's got an awful funny way of showing it."

<Dwarven> "[Hallo and greetings/salutations*!]" Tomas calls out, scratching his head and trying to decipher the riddle of the room, "[I'm being ashamed that I am not the wisest man^ for a riddle-room, but I am just going to look about and maybe find a place for my, um, friends to do their studies#, until I determine how we are being challenged, if that is alright.]"

After taking a moment to take a swig of water, as the dwarf-tongue is intentionally harsh on the throats of those not in tune with the elements, Tomas gives the room a look, figuring that most religions have a similar idea of 'right' for a temple, and checks about the upper left alcove again.


Footnotes on the ancient tongue of Davek provided by Logi Stalagwight, professor of unspeakable linguistics at the Bratislavia Institute and Fraternity of Shadows Brother in good standing.
* Lit; "My pick-axe needs sharpening!", said to have developed during the third Mountains of Misery dynasty civil war as a call for peace if only to allow for a proper battle later on.
^ Lit; "Mug that's head has gone while the beer's still cold.", a legendary feat of cosmic trickery said to be originally the method of choice for choosing the wife of the king. This was of course before 'king' became a unisex title during the first invasion of the Arak.
# Lit; "Pan for secrets in the abyss of thought.", a polite way of saying witchcraft or sorcery. Young Tomas is cleverly assuming that whomever built this room knows of the traditional respect dwarfs show magic users of any stripe, and by respect we of course mean 'fear and unwillingness to take an eye off the bastard.', and is saying that his companions do not intend to steal anyone's soul. This is not the first time Tomas has lied to the spirit world.

(OOC: 14+1: 15 for spot check, 6+2: 8 for search check, and 5+10: 15 for the religion check. I bet a dollar none of that does anything. Can someone from a class that is good with skills please help me out here?)

[Isabella]

The Tomb of Menetnashte
August 30th, 761, 4:01 AM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"Professor, why the devil are you acting like this place is made of poison?" Oh wait no he's not. "Is there something we should know about? Are you mad at me? As he's saying this, Tomas is investigating one of the alcoves, looking for, well, something. Anything. "...we had straightened things out, but I was once told I have all the emotional depth of a teaspoon."

"Mad... at you?" Devereux asked, sounding confused and distant. "Why... would I... be mad at you?"

The professor finally looked at Tomas, his eyes growing wide. His violet irises seemed to expand along with the rest of his eye, giving him a manic, fanatical look to his gaze. "The unworthy always fear the presence of the righteous," he whispered, fervidly. "The guilty always fear judgment."

<Dwarven> "[Hallo and greetings/salutations!]" Tomas calls out, scratching his head and trying to decipher the riddle of the room

The Dwarvish rumbling echoed around the chamber, and for a second the air seemed so thickly charged it was solid. This place is yours, a voice seemed to echo back, very faint, and yet understandable to everyone within. Do as you wish.

Devereux gulped heavily and stepped backward. It took Tomas a moment to realize that the voice had come from his own throat.

[yalenusveler]

"I would like explanations now, please." Andre said, taking a bit of a step back himself, though more out of surprise than anything else. "Otherwise, I will be resorting to crazy moon logic, and that does no one here any good as it leads down avenues of questioning involving incarnations and avatars, and I find those particular mental streets rather disturbing at the moment."

[DocBeard]

This is something of a unique opportunity. The more cynical members of the Expadition may rue missing it; a flash of absolute, animal fear in Tomas Eisenwald's eyes as he holds his mouth, horrified at the voice burping up out of his gut.

Gripping his chest, Tomas falls to his knees, looking wildly around the room, feeling like a caged animal. Something is IN HIM. "Vas ist..." Tomas rasps, whispering just in case his voice is still no longer his own. If it gets any hotter, he'll have to...

[lostboy]

As Tomas falls to his kness, Sascha springs into action, offering a strong arm to assist the young Lamordian. "Easy Tomas, this place brings forth everythin we fear and struggle with, whatever this is, we are all here to help you thorugh it."

Its the right thing to do, not that Sascha has the faintest clue what is going on mind.....

[Nathan of the FoS]

"I think," Charles says, "that you are expected to acknowledge your divinity, and command the room to let us through."

He gives Tomas a sympathetic look that says, I know is this is embarrassing for all of us and we needn't mention it further if you'd rather not--once we get out of here.

[NeoTiamat]

The Tomb of Menetnashte
August 30th, 761, 4:12 AM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"I would like explanations now, please." Andre said, taking a bit of a step back himself, though more out of surprise than anything else. "Otherwise, I will be resorting to crazy moon logic, and that does no one here any good as it leads down avenues of questioning involving incarnations and avatars, and I find those particular mental streets rather disturbing at the moment."

"It hurts because you reject it, Tomas," Devereux said, the sight of his graduate student collapsing finally shaking him out of his ashamed scuffling. Devereux began to leg his way over to where Tomas knelt. "D-don't be afraid of-"

He managed to skid to a stop right before the electricity in the room reached critical levels.

*crack-BOOOOM!*

A flash of lightning turned the world white, a peal of thunder left your ears ringing. For a moment, you could see nothing. A moment to recover, a few blinks to clear your eyes, and faint forms began to appear as your vision returned to you. Yet in that moment of transition between blindness and sight, the afterimages that had been burned into your eyes were far different than the temple you knew you stood in. A faint, washed out scene played before your half-blind eyes, the ringing in your ears transforming into soft sounds as you watched the phantom figures.

It was raining.

There was nothing around you but the sound of the rain, and the two grey slabs that rose up before you, merciless, unyielding, and absolute-

• • Died March 8th, 757 BC

You were completely and utterly alone.

Your vision cleared, but the sound of rain lingered for a few seconds longer. You were back in the temple, just as you had left it - save for one thing. For where the alcove closest to Andre had once been empty and unadorned, a vivid image was now emblazoned upon it - as if the lightning had burned his shadow image into the copper.

Andre knelt in the silent graveyard, the garden of bleak tombstones and weeping angels. There were others there, in the distance - mourners, or perhaps just passers by - but they were a cold and as distant as the marble statues that lined the cemetery. No friends were there to offer comfort, no strangers to offer sympathy. All that Andre had was buried forever, beneath those two frozen memorials.

A single word forced it's way through Tomas' unwilling lips.

Ask.

[DocBeard]

It burns.

"Wh...what...did you do...?" Tomas is doubled over, clutching his chest with his arms. It's going after them, whatever's inside of him...the look they're all giving him, why? He's not insane, he's not a monster, he's a stupid kid who had an accident...

There's a dull thump, and Tomas realizes that he's been taking his breastplate off this whole time. Heat from chest means a big metal plate on top of it is a bad plan, Tomas argues, so this is all perfectly logical. Struggling to squirm out of his chain mail, like the most metal sweater ever, and thick leather coat, Tomas seems...smaller, in the light linen shirt he wears under it all. Sweat and effort have strained the shirt, but it's still together enough to cover Eisenwald's chest.

It may, this moment, dawn on the remnants of the Expedition that Tomas has, very quietly, taken terrible pains to bathe and sleep mostly by himself for the entire trip. He's never been seen without at least heavy, long sleeved shirt.

Forcing himself to his feet, the Lamordian starts trekking towards the altar in the center of the room. No matter what, Tomas will not allow this room to force his friends to suffer through more past suffering on his account. "Is this it? Is this what you want?!"

[NeoTiamat]

The Tomb of Menetnashte
August 30th, 761, 4:12 AM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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Forcing himself to his feet, the Lamordian starts trekking towards the altar in the center of the room. No matter what, Tomas will not allow this room to force his friends to suffer through more past suffering on his account. "Is this it? Is this what you want?!"

"Tomas!" Devereux tried to scurry after him, keeping a good distance out of both respect and fear. "I know it hurts, but it's not an enemy... You're not the only one who wants to spare others suffering...we... I... care about you... please..."

What do I want, Tomas Eisenwald? the voice forced itself again from Tomas' tightened throat.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Lia rushes forward to walk - a pace behind Tomas. With a snap and boom of pinions, her wings spread as wide as they can go, sheltering as much of the Lamordian as she can from the rest of the group, and putting herself -- perhaps a trifle rudely, but that can not be helped -- between Sascha and Tomas.

"Tomas," she softly calls to him, wings fluttering slightly in a warding gesture to the other members of the group. "Tomas. My friend Tomas, look to me, turn to me. I will keep you safe if you want. If I can. Tomas ..."

If the knight will allow it, Lia seizes him by the shoulders and turns him towards her, wings folding protectively around him, shielding him from sight. "I know a bit about you," she says, her voice soothing, wings starting to enfold him. "I know a a bit about you and I do not reject you. Do not be so afraid, please. We have made it this far, all of us together. Do not be so afraid now, we will get through this as well. All of us together. Tomas ..."

The mage flinches slightly at the heat radiating off of the young Lamordian, but doesn't back off unless it actually starts to harm her. "I am Tomas Eisenwald's friend," she says in a clear voice. "As his friend, I request answers. Who are you, that speak out of him?"

[NeoTiamat]

The Tomb of Menetnashte
August 30th, 761, 4:14 AM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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The mage flinches slightly at the heat radiating off of the young Lamordian, but doesn't back off unless it actually starts to harm her. "I am Tomas Eisenwald's friend," she says in a clear voice. "As his friend, I request answers. Who are you, that speak out of him?"

"Look o-" Devereux began to warn.

*crack-BOOOOM!*

Hair curling and blackening in the heat, the crackling of flames. The jeers and roar of the crowd, as they pelted you with stones and mud-

“Murderer!”

“Witch!”

“Vampire!”

“Liability.”

The final word was spoken with calm, cold, finality, like the knell of a church bell. With that, your vision cleared, leaving you back in the temple. The alcove nearest to where Lia stood was no longer empty.

Lia stood upon a blazing pyre, her hair billowing in the flames, her hands and feet bound to a long iron pole. Her fingers were crushed and broken, her beautiful white wings tattered and stained with blood. All around her people had gathered, surrounding her in a giant mob. Algernon Mournswaithe stood, smiling smugly, near the front of the crowd, and he was joined by every kind of person imaginable, from the poorest of Barovian peasants to the richest Dementlieuse nobleman.

They had come to watch her burn.

I know who you are, the voice managed, this time sounding, perhaps, a little less forced and a little more hurt.

It's me, Lia. It's Tomas. Lothurr, if you like. Lia could see sparks beginning to fly from Tomas fingers, arcing from his fingers across the floor before dissipating into the air.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Lia's voice chokes for a second as she sees the scene, but then she shakes herself, feathers rustling. 'He's dead,' she reminds herself. 'That is over. And I acknowledge my fears, I will not be ruled by them.'

"So," she says, voice soft, wings still shielding the knight from view. "So. The faerie Thorianefaless named you so, named you Lothurr. The lightning god of Lamordia. And you are ... Tomas, and Tomas is you? I beg your pardon for not recognizing you as such before, then. This is a ... new side to a man I call friend, one which I had not seen before in my ignorance."

The mage's voice catches as she addresses the entity again: "Is this a thing which has always been so, or ... a matter that has become thus?"

[yalenusveler]

"Lothurr, why do you know..." Andre almost couldn't bring himself to look back on the image that was burned into the alcove after the first flash. "I mean, I know I've talked about it..but.." Andre shook his head. "If you are the Divine Spark,or something actually Divine..I know Tomas, which I suppose means I know you."

Andre took a moment to collect himself before speaking "Tomas...well, Tomas you don't always think things through, but it's usually for the right reasons if not the right implementation. If Lothurr is part of you, or vice versa depending on what the case may be..well, I could certainly agree with worship being a tad less obscure and a touch more widespread."

Andre finally looked at the image burned into "his" alcove, then spoke again. "I could be selfish, ask if you could bring them back, but that really just gets me in trouble. So instead..what do you need? Both of you if you're a separate entity or.."Andre actually chuckled a moment. "You'd think being a Theologian who has already spoken to a manifest divinity several times, this wouldn't be such unfamiliar territory."

[Nathan of the FoS]

Charles turns to look at the alcoves--Andre, alone, Lia, in agony--and after a long moment sighs.

"Be yourself, Tomas," Charles says quietly. "I've always admired you. For your courage, and your...moral clarity."

Charles pauses, and then says, more quietly, "Nothing good comes of lying to yourself about who you are and what you want to do..."

Charles hesitates, then shrugs. Crossing to Tomas, he reaches out deliberately and takes him by the shoulder. "You're a good man. Whatever else you are as well."