Café de Nuit

"I would - we would not have left you," Lia says to the two professors, calmly looking them both in the eye. "It would not be right. That is all. But your thanks are appreciated." Gravely, the wizard bows to the two learned men in turn, without depriving Carter of her support. "You might say a word to Kuzan and Andre, who freed you both. As for the bodies, now ... I shall ask some of our stronger companions to assist us there, later. I am fresh out of Telekines spells for the day."

Muhar, Har'Akir
August 28th, 761, 6:42 AM; Day 164 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"This is not a ridiculous-looking cat skull." Dieter drew himself up, looking as haughty as he could, forming a circle with his fingers and placing it in his eye like a monocle. "This is an antique ridiculous-looking cat skull. Fourty-third century Sebuan, don'tcherknow. It's classy. Stylish. Not that you'd know. They don't make them like this anymore." He knowingly patted the side of his new hat. One of Chesterton's fangs fell off.

The mercenary ducked under Kuzan's shoulder to support him, at first making as if he would sweep Kuzan off his feet, and then stopping when he realized this was a very bad idea. Looking slightly annoyed, Dieter slogged forward, dragging Kuzan along with him. "One knight in shining armor, coming up," he grunted under the weight. "Wow, you've really been hitting the mess hall hard lately."
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Rock wrote:"I would - we would not have left you," Lia says to the two professors, calmly looking them both in the eye. "It would not be right. That is all."

"Is that any less reason for us to thank you that you did not?" Marchand-Renier asked, quietly. The professor seemed to have retreated in upon himself, looking somewhat as he had when he had first arrived in Muhar.

"You might say a word to Kuzan and Andre, who freed you both."

"You hardly need to tell me that," Carter murmured. "You all have my thanks, and I'll tell everyone personally... as soon as I can... get there." The archeologist kept his slow and steady plod, trying not to fall asleep on his feet.

Marchand-Renier did not follow, lingering behind where Carter had been. He was watching a different darkly-clad professor, standing by the corner of the building, but did not deign to approach.

Kuzan snorted derisively at Dieter's failed attempt to whisk him away. "Some knight in shining armor you're turning out to be!" he harrumphed, "Your antique fortythird century helmet is falling apart and you can't even sweep your charge off his feet! I may just have to trade you back for a better, stronger hero! Like Ed. I bet he could do it."

The priest paused and tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I guess I'll just have to work you harder in the triage tent," he mused, "Since you're obviously not strong enough to handle the job right!"

"It would probably be wise to retrieve Remy and Devereux from the Temple of Isis." Andre said, trying to not seethe over this whole affair, trying desperately to create some sort of mental schema of "acceptable casualties" whatever that folly was. "If anyone is terribly injured, I can treat of course.."

The blade drops to his side as Sascha gazes up at the dawn sky for moment. The knight was usnure exactly what he had just witnessed after the ghosts demise, but he had his suspicions, or if he was really truthful with himself, what he wanted to believe. It had been long years since the architect of his salvation had shown itself.

Brinigng the charred wood necklace to his lips he kisses it reverently, before dropping to one knee and pulling back his sleeve, revealing the livid burn on his forearm. Ten inches long, weeping and fresh as if just this second branded, the shape of an equal cross stands out.

"I am humble before the revelation, I give thanks for my life and for those who lived through this day. I renew my oath of honour, poverty, obediance, and selflessness." As he speaks he touches each arm of the brand, wincing as the pain flashes up his forearm. "May I find the strength to see my path to its end, the will to never waver from its righteous journey, and redemption for the sins of the past."

Communion over, Sascha gets gingerly to his feet, there was definatley a hole of some size in one of his lungs, but it would heal, they would all heal more or less. Turnign back he confronts the Falkovnian units who had stood with him. [Falkovnian] "A fine job this day, a fine job indeed. Today your strength and courage worked on the side of right, for that I thank you."

Saying little else he limps on, noting with a painful smile that everyone else appeared to be warm and breathing.

Rock wrote:As for the bodies, now ... I shall ask some of our stronger companions to assist us there, later. I am fresh out of Telekines spells for the day."

"Then its a good thing our spectral friend did not snuff all the life from these old bones. I made a promise to the priestess about the return of these bodies and I do not intend to renege on it. But..... its good to see you all alive, although I suspect I owe my thanks to several of you for keeping me that way."

Otto is out of breath and untransmuted--and looking considerably less put-together than usual. Those Lebentod had edge weapons, after all, and bodily reflecting multiple bursts of eldritch light is not healthy under any circumstances: his right hand and forearm are seared from gunpowder backlash and energy burns, he's still bleeding from a shallow score wound across his side, and his upturned welding mask has been dented beyond belief.

He's alive, though...and currently trying his utmost not to look at the many who aren't.

Wheezing from exertion, Otto hails Harris' approach--to the extent that he can still move his arm. "Hooh...remind me...never...to ascend to a rooftop...again."

The gunsmith claps a grateful hand on Harris' shoulder. "Thank you for...that. I only wish that I could have been of more direct assistance." He pats his bandolier, somewhat regretfully. "Do to yourself a favor: never specialize in these. Tricky things..."

Upon limping over to the group, the gunsmith already has an uncracked pair of spectacles on: it always pays to keep a backup around. "I should be happy to retrieve the two of them from the temple--fates know what they must have heard, from within there." The gunsmith looks very tired. "Although they were spared the direct experience...something for which to be thankful."

Muhar, Har'Akir
August 28th, 761, 6:45 AM; Day 164 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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The Whistler wrote:The gunsmith claps a grateful hand on Harris' shoulder. "Thank you for...that. I only wish that I could have been of more direct assistance." He pats his bandolier, somewhat regretfully. "Do to yourself a favor: never specialize in these. Tricky things..."

Captain Harris smiled wearily. "I never got the hang of them, myself. My nephew beat me every time."

The huge guardsman strode into the middle of the square, looking for some way to put himself to use. When he reached Dieter and Kuzan, he simply folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. Dieter quickly pointed at Kuzan, disavowing himself of any sort of silliness that might have been happening, and then ran off to make himself look like he was being productive.

"Sorry, Kuzan," Harris said, after a bit of a pause. "You're not really my type."

"Yeah, see?" Dieter called from where he was helping bandage the wounded. "If you want a handsome prince to sweep you off your feet you've gotta lose a few pounds first!"

A look from Harris and Dieter immediately got back to work.

yalenusveler wrote:"It would probably be wise to retrieve Remy and Devereux from the Temple of Isis."

Andre could hear a slight, bitter laugh from Marchand-Renier. "We spent so long trying to escape," he said, quietly enough that no one else could hear. "And now we ask them to come back."

"Well," he added, even quieter. "You have my thanks, Professor Theroux. For Thomas, for myself, and for Remy." The linguist looked distant, as if, having extended the proverbial olive branch, he expected Andre to Sound Lance it. Sebastian withdrew, emotionally and then physically, limping away toward the Falkovnian compound.

The Whistler wrote:"I should be happy to retrieve the two of them from the temple--fates know what they must have heard, from within there."

"Your companions are still out there?" Lieutenant Lebrecht said, slowly urging Flea to canter over from where he had been issuing commands. He seemed slightly bemused by Sacha's comments to the troops, but let it pass without comment, even as the squad saluted the ashen knight. "We'd best not leave them to the Akiri, then. Mount up!"

From where they were scattered about the square, the cavalrymen put down what they were doing and remounted their horses. The iron discipline of the Falkovnians was showing itself now, as they quickly formed up despite injuries and exhaustion; the men looked tired, but were still obviously battleworthy. They trotted over to Lebrecht, two of them veering aside to offer a a hand up to Andre and Otto.

"A bit of a risk to ride out now, but we'll have speed to our advantage," Lebrecht said. The lieutenant made no mention of the bodies either way, although none of the Falkovnians were paying the dead Akiri much mind. Perhaps he hadn't heard the topic come up.

"And you have mine, Sebastian. Shall we consider all debts settled and the slate cleared, then?" Andre said to his fellow academic, before mounting up, far from comfortable on horseback, but then again speed was likely a good thing in this situation.

"Alas," Kuzan bemoaned, "I shall just have to walk."

He walked over to where Dieter was "working" and mock-glared at the Lamordian. "You better watch it, mister," he said sternly, "Or I'll bandage up your mouth! With the cat skull attached, antique or no!"

The priest stuck his tongue out, then set about helping with the wounded.

Tomas, after a brief aside(See: Tomas Eisenwald takes a brief aside!), heads towards the temple of Isis, presumably because assuming people are okay is just a bad idea at this point.

Sascha doesnty ctach or pointedly ignores the look Lebrecht gives him, and sheathing his sword, he looks up at Andre. "Unless you have need of me, I shall remain here and do what is needed with the fallen, I would think perhaps conveying them to the temple of Horus would be appropriate." He adds pointing at the one still standing temple on the square.

"Captain, Msieur Martel, would you care to lend your assistance?" Sascha asks looking across at Harris and Charles as everyone else seemed occupied with other tasks.

Muhar, Har'Akir
August 28th, 761, 7:28 AM; Day 164 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"We'd better be off quickly," Lebrecht said, urging his horse forward. If he heard anything Sacha had said about the bodies, he gave no sign. The current arrangement of mutual obliviousness seemed to be amicable to both men.

yalenusveler wrote:"And you have mine, Sebastian. Shall we consider all debts settled and the slate cleared, then?"

"Generous terms," Marchand-Renier murmured, attempting a smile that melted away faster than mist in the desert sun. The linguist stared up at the gathering cavalry expedition, and after a moment of cool regard, one of the soldiers rode over and offered him a hand up. But Sebastian shook his head; one look at the professor made it obvious he couldn't take the heavy ride. He stood in the square and watched the men ride off, remaining in place long after the last horse had departed.

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Lebrecht took a few detours to avoid any crowded areas, but one way or another you reached the Temple of Isis without any major incident. A few Akiri had gathered at the temple steps, but they quickly scattered to the winds on hearing the approaching hoofbeats. The Falkovnians rode up to the base of the temple, not dismounting themselves. "We'll want to keep ready for a quick getaway, if need be," he explained, as the soldiers fanned out to keep watch over the city streets. "Fetch them quickly, and let's be gone from here."

Nathifa was waiting at the door, having clearly heard your very loud approach. Her cordiality still seemed somewhat forced, but she bowed and gestured you inside. As you walked through the painted stone arch, you could hear familiar voices echoing through the chamber...

"Lightning? So he is... of Set?"

"No, not Set. He, ah... fights and kills monsters and makes people safe."

"Ah." A pause. "Like Set?"

"Not Set!"

Remy and Mandisa were at the end of the Temple, near the altar. The student had his fingers against the wall, as if he had been closely examining the hieroglyphics upon them, but was currently turned away to look at Mandisa with a slightly distressed look on his face. Mandisa simply looked confused. She was still disheveled and red around the eyes, but it seemed her mind was off of her troubles for the moment.

"In the, er, early dynasties of Western Har Akir... Set was the supreme god of the pharaoh of the Lower Dynasty," Devereux chimed in distractedly. The professor was sitting with papyrus balanced on his stork-like knees, carefully using a red quill pen to scribe something onto papyrus. Nathifa seemed to eye him suspiciously as she led you towards him. "It was... in the middle dynasties, after the Western unification wars, that Set became known as an evil god."

"Please don't encourage her, professor..." Remy said through his teeth.

The young woman spotted you first of the three, her hand flying to her mouth in awe. She looked surprised, but not unpleasantly so. The young woman ran over and made a rather clumsy bow, looking exceptionally humble. "Greetings, servants of the gods. My thanks and praise to you once more."

Remy closed his eyes in exasperation before joining her. "Professor Theroux... is everyone alright?"

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Harris nodded, turning to begin gathering the Akiri dead. It was a grisly task. Several of the lebendtods had fallen apart in death, forcing Edmund to find some canvas tarps to wrap the remains. Khait looked at though she had run head first into a wall of crossbow arrows, and one of the Akiri that Andre had been fighting was little more than a small pile of splinters and dust. The lebendtods' flesh was dessicated and rotting. Carter dubiously eyed the growing pile of remains from where he sat propped up against the compound wall.

"I know the gesture is well meant," Carter quietly warned, "but the Akiri are not going to be happy."

The Temple of Horus was right across the square from the compound, and so you found yourselves momentarily free of Falkovnian vanguard. You could see a small crowd of the Akiri gathered there, seeking shelter from the madness of the battlefield outside. Some of the Akiri looked angry, some grieved openly, but most just looked lost, staring forlornly outside or at the ground. You could hear one man speaking gently but firmly, a familiar man with black eyes, and the crowd seemed to cling to his words.

The sight of Sacha brought life back to the crowd, who began to yell and curse. The knight felt a sting at his cheek as a rock whizzed past his ear. Harris stepped in front of him, letting a few stones bounce off his armor, but the black-eyed man barked a sudden command, and the crowd seemed to pause in their onslaught, though they still watched Sacha warily.

"Terrible things have happened this day," Kheldun said, pushing his way toward the front of the crowd. "Terrible crimes against our beloved gods. Not just by those of the hawk, but by our own people. This day is already cursed. Shall we add another victory to Set this day, by attacking the hawk-men and provoking them to slaughter more?"

His words seemed to calm the crowd, who began to look angry and ashamed. You noticed that the old man now openly wore a wooden ankh around his neck.

[OOC: Spellcraft DC 17]

"Let us go home," Kheldun continued. "Let us tend to the souls of our dead. Let us seek the forgiveness of our gods."

The crowd seemed to settle, and though they still gazed at Sacha with hatred, they let him pass. Kheldun approached him, speaking a few words to an Akiri woman nearby. The old man spoke to him, the woman translating into Mordentish.

"Truly you are heralds of great portents," Kheldun said, regarding him calmly with his black eyes. "This town has lived with nothing more than bandit raids for many years. Now in one day the Temple of Osiris is destroyed, its acolytes dead. Our village takes up arms against a great and powerful foe in the streets. Our own people rise again and walk even after their souls have flown from them. And... a grandson who had been gone for a year finally responds to his grandfather's words."

The old man sighed, dusting off his stained robes. "I do not know whether you herald great good or great evil. But I do not think Muhar can take much more of either."

Sascha doesnt even flinch as the rock grazes his cheek, in truth the Knight had half expected this reaction from the Akiri. "Its fine, they need to vent their anger" he is about to say to Harris, when Keldun make s his appearance.

Sascha offers the old man a weary but polite bow, "I agree this day has been far too long already, and too many have needlessly lost their lives. I have no taste for more innocent blood to be shed here. We return the dead to you so they may be given proper respect and burial, it is only right afterall."

Sascha gazes around at the crowd as the message is relayed, thankful his paltry Akiri wasnt being taxed by this exchange. "But we are not heralds of good nor evil, venerable one. We are simply travellers on a path, bearing light to hold back the darkness. Evil is abroad in these lands, and that evil needs no herald to arrive at your door, it is just unfortunate we appear to be its favourite playthings, to torment with the suffering of others."

Pausing again for translation he finishes "We will do what we can to allow Muhar to return as it was, and then we shall take our leave, our path lies onward and is tied to your grandson's. So perhaps you may tell us what you have heard from him?"

Andre offered Mandisa a smile, then turned to Remy with much the same. It wasn't a grand triumphant smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. "The Falkovnians took some nasty losses, but we managed to pull through. And Professor Marchand-Renier is safe, as is Professor Carter. Cavendish had him under some form of mental domination, but through some miracle I managed to snap him out of it."

Andre's expression then turned a touch darker "Cavendish got away, but next time..next time he won't be so lucky."

After a few minutes of working, Kuzan wiped his forehead and stood up. He patted Dieter on the shoulder and said, "Keep at it. I'm going to go pray. This'll go a lot faster if I can use divine power to heal the wounded."

And with that, the priest walked over to a little corner of the square, sat down crosslegged, and closed his eyes, falling into his daily prayer trance. As long as nobody dropped a meteor on the town or anything, most of the wounded would be in top health in about an hour.