The Eye of Anubis: Book Eight

[Nathan of the FoS]

Charles shrugs. "I am all ignorance, Your Reverence, not having made a study of the arcane. Nor the Nightmare Realm," (here Charles makes the briefest of pauses to consider the nonchalance with which he is discussing "the Nightmare Realm" with a faceless telepathic Abbot in the depths of the Sebuan desert--it's been quite a trip) "nor, of course, how to deal with this Ronoph. I take it that your experience with all of these things is such that your best advice is as you've given it--we must run the gauntlet to slay the beast?"

[The Whistler]

Otto, too, is rather bemused by how quickly he's gotten used to the idea of traveling through the dream-realm to kill a demon; then again, everything was context. His own knowledge regarding the dream realm was limited to a scant theoretical paper which he'd picked up as supplementary reading before an assignment due date. Unfortunately, the three sentences' worth of it that had to do with weapon enchantments didn't mention anything about possibly fatal outsider-killing vision quests.

So...pretty much flying blind, here.

"Hm. Would there be any prior indication of the route which we would face on the way to the subject? I do not know if it was being possible for you to communicate with those who have gone before us, while they were upon their journeys, but any sort of foreknowledge of what we might encounter...such would certainly be helpful."

[DocBeard]

"Well, I'm sure we can come up with some kind of strategy." Tomas looks a little apologetically at Charles, having not meant it like that. "We should get to work, no?"

[NeoTiamat]

The Abbot's Office, The Monastery of Stilled Nightmares, Sebua
July 17th, 761, 6:22 PM; Day 122 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"I take it that your experience with all of these things is such that your best advice is as you've given it--we must run the gauntlet to slay the beast?"

So it would seem. The Realm of Nightmares tends to be quite flexible on the nature of reality within it... however it also succumbs to the strongest will acting upon it, and a demon's will, however bestial the demon... The Abbot shrugged, a very human gesture made strange and sinuous. We've tried several methods, but Ronoph's psychic presence seems inescapable.

"Hm. Would there be any prior indication of the route which we would face on the way to the subject? I do not know if it was being possible for you to communicate with those who have gone before us, while they were upon their journeys, but any sort of foreknowledge of what we might encounter...such would certainly be helpful."

Broad details, no more. Some of those who went inside survived, though their minds fractured irrevocably. Said the tired Abbot. One had only to wonder what kind of people would risk their lives to try this, but then again, maybe one didn't have to wonder. You were about to risk your lives for it, after all. I managed to glean some small glimmers of information from their minds, however. They uniformly spoke of horrors, spiders, serpents, heights, whatever their fears were. The Dreamspawn also seemed to congregate, and take the form of whatever it is one most fears. Beyond that, there is little... save that in all cases the path ahead is easy to see, though difficult to follow.

"Well, I'm sure we can come up with some kind of strategy." Tomas looks a little apologetically at Charles, having not meant it like that. "We should get to work, no?"

The Abbot stood and walked to the wall-case behind him and opened the latch, then reached to a sideboard and took a small towel from it. Carefully, one might say nervously, the Abbot wrapped the wavy-bladed dagger into the towel and handed it to you, a dark-grey blade and bleached bone handle wrapped in an incongruously cheerful pale-blue towel.

Good luck.

Corridors, The Monastery of Stilled Nightmares, Sebua
July 17th, 761, 6:40 PM; Day 122 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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After some few more minutes of meandering questioning, the gist of which was that the Abbot's actual knowledge of Ronoph and the Realm of Nightmare was educated guesswork and conjecture, no more, you finally left to find the less-than-friendly elf, Tharivas.

The corridors of the Monastery of Still Nightmares were still frightening, still strange and dark and too cramped and too hard to maneuver about. In a way, it was as at Dezbar. The presence of the demonic warped reality about it, to the point where up was down and space and time were more suggestions than hard reality.

And somewhere, just past the thin fabric of the material plane... was the Realm of Nightmares, swarming with Dreamspawn and home to a Fiend's soul. And you were about to go there.

It was kind of depressing that this might be considered normal for the Menetnashte Expedition.

[OOC: Alright! The wavy-bladed dagger is a Keen Dagger of Souldrinking +3. Basically, when you get a critical hit with it (17-20) against a living creature (even if such a creature is normally immune to critical hits, such as an Ooze), then the dagger inflicts a negative level on the target and grants you +5 Temp HP and +2 Morale bonus on damage]

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Once the members of the Expedition have left the Abbot's office far enough behind in her estimation, Lia stops walking. "Please stop, wait," she calls softly to the other Expedition members. "I have grave misgivings about this whole matter.

Remember the words of the Oracle: the Abbot is a predator with a unique terrain, the servant of a self-proclaimed deity. Which deity would that be? What is its agenda? The Abbot has never mentioned it, which makes me suspicious. And now he offers us this kris, which is an item used in the worship of the demon that sponsored Menetnashte! What if the sleeping demon becomes agitated by its presence, not out of fear, but because it stirs and excites it, calls for it to awaken?

I know the sleeping demom needs to be dealt with, but still, I am deeply uneasy about this. We should think carefully on our optimal course of action."

[Nathan of the FoS]

"It sounds like we'll have to rely largely on improvisation," Charles says, taking the dagger from the Abbot and examining its edges clinically, then giving a half-smile to Tomas, as if to say, No offense taken; after all, that is my style. "Fortunately, we've a lot of experience that way. Let's hope we can make it count. I suppose I might as well handle this as anyone." As he speaks he gestures slightly with the dagger, then switches it with the elegant, slim dagger in his wrist sheath in two gestures so quick as to make one think of a stage magician's sleight of hand. "It may make me very popular, but such is fortune. So. Now we seek out the Venerable Tharivas?"

[lostboy]

So. Now we seek out the Venerable Tharivas?"

"It would seem so, I will try my hardest to restrain my enthusiasm" Khalil says sarcastically.

We should think carefully on our optimal course of action."

Once out of earshot (or should that be mindshot he wonders for a moment) of the Abbotts quarters, Khalil looks at Lia with a weary expression. "Forgive me for saying this but what other course do we have? Can we afford to cast aside the one weapon we have been told will surely defeat this thing? I do not put too much faith in these" he pauses to tap his scimitar hilts "against a demon such as this."

"I am in agreement with Tomas and Charles, we divert its attention and draw it out, leaving it to fate to provide an opportunity to strike, unless there are alternative options?"

[Kaitou Kage]

"Yeah," Kuzan agreed, "We are trusting this guy despite what the Lorelei told us, but what other options do we really have if we're going to deal with this matter? If you have a suggestion, I'm sure we're all ears." It was doubtful anyone really knew it, but Kuzan didn't trust the Lorelei any more than he trusted the Abbot, really. The Lorelei, he had sensed, had her own agenda in pushing the party after the Abbot and he wasn't entirely sure he liked that.

"So what do you want me to do in this plan?" he asked, seeming amiable enough to go along with whatever people wanted.

[yalenusveler]

"Lia brings up an excellent point. However, at the same time, said dagger could act as a contingency. I mean, when you've got a near mindless engine of fiendish destruction, one tends to make plans for how to dispatch the damned thing if it gets out of control" Andre said, managing somehow a walk that combined aimless pacing as well.

"As for getting assaulted by our fears, I'm not particularly looking forward to that one bit. Apparently, it was assumed that I'd be able to manipulate the rather...unique take on reality that occurs here. Unfortunately, this has proven untrue. If the Realm of Nightmare proves more fluid, I may be able to alleviate some of the terrain difficulties. Of course, it's far more likely that it'll be just as solid as things are here" Andre said, drumming his fingers along a wall.

"I say we try to dispatch the thing without resorting to the Dagger. If Nothing else works..then it becomes stab time. But only if continuing to try alternates appears to be on the path to becoming lethal folly...well, more so lethal folly than our current course of action."

[Nathan of the FoS]

"I suppose the question is, whether the dagger actually performs as advertised," Charles says quietly. "If m'selle's surmise were correct, giving us the dagger and urging us to visit Ronoph is intended to wake the demon; whether it will actually harm the demon at all is quite irrelevant, and it might suit our host's turn better if it didn't. For my part, I think her fears, although eminently reasonable, are misplaced. I believe he has told us the truth--at least about the dagger and Ronoph. It might be well to double-check that he has not put any sort of enchantment on us before we depart, but barring that I think he can be trusted in this matter."

[The Whistler]

"For my part, I think her fears, although eminently reasonable, are misplaced. I believe he has told us the truth--at least about the dagger and Ronoph."

"I am with Charles upon this: if the Abbot is not honest, why is he telling us of the dagger's awakening properties at all? Better to simply strand us within the Realm with one fewer danger about which to suspect..."

Otto wipes his glasses with a handkerchief as they walk--if nearsightedness carries over into nightmarish vision-quests, then he's going to make quite sure his specs don't fog up in the process. "Regardless, I imagine that we shall be having no choice but to improvise, in a certain degree..." He *tsks* under his breath. "So little way to be prepared..."

[NeoTiamat]

The Cloister, The Monastery of Stilled Nightmares, Sebua
July 17th, 761, 7:02 PM; Day 122 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"...If this is your idea of a joke, I find it decidedly unamusing." The Venerable Tharivas muttered under his breath after you had told him your goals. The elf seemed... disturbed. "But if you know of Ronoph, I imagine you have spoken with the Abbot. Very well, I'll lead you to the Realm of Dreams."

"Who knows, perhaps you'll have better luck than the others. Or perhaps not." This latter thought seemed to cheer Tharivas considerably. "If you will wait, I'll return with the supplies."

The Cloister, The Monastery of Stilled Nightmares, Sebua
July 17th, 761, 7:24 PM; Day 122 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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The Venerable Tharivas returned not too long later, taking you to the covered prayer hall that was home to the fountain. And also home to Ronoph's body, it seemed.

The fountain gurgled pleasantly, a huge work of marble some six meters tall. Images of beauty, peace, lassitude worked their way into your eye as you looked at the irregular carvings, while the bubbling of the water calmed your mind. Perhaps there truly was a fiend's body trapped beneath the marble. But the spells used to guard it were seductively peaceful.

"I put this behind me after I became a monk." Tharivas said conversationally, carrying what appeared to be... a clay jar. And some reeds cut in half. "But it is still useful from time to time."

The elf opened up the jar and passed it around. Inside was what appeared to be a fine, reddish-black dust. Tharivas bade you take a pinch of the dust and one of the reeds each.

"Just inhale it and attempt to empty your minds." The elf said, closing the jar carefully after checking the level of dust remaining. "If you feel spiders burrowing into your flesh, ignore them. They don't exist."

There was a very small smile on Tharivas's lips as he said this. Perhaps he was merely pulling your leg... perhaps.

[OOC: Just snort the hallucinagenic substance of unknown composition and head off to Nightmare Land. And watch the spiders.]

[...just don't ask what the stuff's made of. This is one of those things you do not want to know. Trust the DM on this one.]

[DocBeard]

"Well it still hurts..." Tomas mutters, and perhaps because he is kind of insane already he shall assume that this will, at worst, make his current horrible nightmarish visions less psychedelic.

He looks to Lia, so she knows that he is not ignoring her concerns even if he's in a bad place to discuss them right now, but proceeds to sniff some of the powder anyway. Either way, they need to keep the demon from exploding, after all.

[Nathan of the FoS]

"If you feel spiders burrowing into your flesh, ignore them. They don't exist."

Charles wonders sourly if this is not intended to be a power-of-suggestion gambit--one last dig at the Venerable's competition, to get them thinking of spiders just as they take a drug producing what might well be described as an "altered state of consciousness".

Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Charles deals with his powder in the manner of one accustomed to a pinch of snuff now and again, then sits back and endeavors to clear his mind of everything. Most especially the dagger in place on his right forearm.

[lostboy]

Khalil locks eyes with the elf whilst he takes the powder, not enjoying the smile on the others face but refusing to back down in front of him, or grimace when whatever that stuff was catches in his throat suddenly.

Swallowing slowly he leans back alongside Charles and tries indeed to empty his mind, although images of that smile being wiped from the elf's lips with a sharp blade prove difficult to shift.

Sighing softly Khalil focuses himself and waits for whatever comes.