Summary:Varanim's ghost journeys into the Ebon Spires in order to retrieve a monstrance.
XP:V1, Z1
Tags:< Bring a Sandwich or Something | Sol Invictus Logs | Knock the Whole Universe Out >
Zahara ::Are you dead yet?::
Varanim ::You don't HAVE to check every thirty seconds.::
Zahara ::I just want you to know how much I care.::
Varanim ::Is that also why you sound so...:: "Duck, you stupid hunk of metal!" ::...hopeful?::
Zahara ::I don't know what you mean:: she says, woundedly. She would find herself vaguely seasick from the jarring up-and-down motion of the Hematite Legionnaire whose shoulder she's seated on primly, if not for the eyepatch.
Varanim ::I'm just saying, Monstrances are really fragile. If I DIE I will probably DROP IT and it will break into A MILLION PIECES.::
Zahara ::I have a spell for that, it's ok.::
The dark Netheos plain known to the world above as "Walker's Realm" stands before Zahara and her Hematite Legion, an abnormally flat locale on which lush yet disturbing black grasses stretch out as far as the eye can see. Swift-moving lightning storms roll across it as if artificially spread, launching down jagged bolts to the ground below and filling the air with their sounds.
Beyond that lies the high-reaching towers of the Ebon Spires of Pyrron, the Walker in Darkness' vast fortress -- like a fairy-tale castle darkened by years of soot, literally thousands of narrow towers rise up to jagged points from the thick rectangular base.
And just inside, beyond the moat filled with skeletal crocodiles and the murder slits manned by bored ghosts with spectral bows and the vats of liquid pyreflame prepared to dump upon invaders is a ghostly Varanim, three Hematite Legionnaires at her side.
In a surprisingly effective logistical display, Varanim finds herself reaching the end of the passage through the stone-clad fortress backdoor just as the guardroom beyond seems to have emptied out,
the ghosts and skeletons that once filled it rushing headlong towards the front of the fortress, where a massive army of undead barrels across the lowered drawbridge to meet Zahara's forces head-on.
Zahara waves at them cheerfully
The rooms within the fortress, even this out-of-the-way guard chamber, are even more elegantly detailed than the fortress' exterior -- elaborate black-on-black moulding richly spreads across the walls, while obsidian chandeliers and black tapestries hang in the high-arched hallway that lies just beyond.
What intel Varanim has on the matter suggests that the Monstrance is held in the 251st tower -- now, just to find it.
Varanim bangs on the helmet of the Legionnaire she's riding. "Up the Staircase of Forsaken Butterflies, then cut through the Third Library of Bitter Love Poems (Triangles-Unrequited)." She points imperiously, then flails her arms madly to keep her balance as it sets off abruptly.
Zahara "28...29....30..." ::Are you dead yet?::
Zahara "Okay, Legion! See those pretty spires? See how many you can break."
Varanim ::No, but you have no idea the kind of horror I'm bearing on your account.::
The Hematite Legion (the greater) charges on towards the onrushing force of undead that sweeps out to meet them on the black plains, even as the Hematite Legion (woman's auxillary) clanks loudly and suspiciously through the hallways of the Spires, past portraits of famous dead people executed in white on black and black marble urns, and towards the tower in which the Monstrance is kept.
Varanim While she's in the neighborhood, Varanim scopes the passing hallways with Essence sight, comparing with the other sets of Deathlord digs she's seen personally.
Zahara "hmm what does Spring usually do... " She thinks for a moment then yells "FLYING WEDGE TO THE CENTER! FIFTH UH STORMCLOUD LIGHTNING FORMATION OF DOOM THING!"
The essence of the fortress seems carefully channelled -- this is clearly an old and powerful manse, with negative energies coursing through the walls and amplified steadily upward at every turn.
A quick application of Evidence-Discerning Method suggests to Varanim that the castle is the work of a controlling, seemingly polite yet bursting with inner rage, demanding and malicious princess, which is certainly an interesting factoid to discover.
Zahara leaps to her feet and strikes a pose (one steadying hand on the head of the legionnaire)
Outside, Hematite Legionnaires focus into the Fifth Uh Stormcloud Lightning Formation of Doom Thing and strike at a phalanx of skeletons, a thousand gleaming reddish-grey swords striking past armor and scattering tibias and fibulas across the featureless plain.
Inside, Varanim finds herself walking through the library when one of her Legionnaires seems to become confused, turning sideways and stepping over through the Overwhelming - Ripe aisle and across towards altogether not the correct door.
Zahara ::I should do this more often. This leading armies thing is pretty fun.::
Zahara ::How's the being alive thing going?::
Varanim ::Not dead yet. Have you done any architecture in this neighbor...? Hold on.::
Varanim "Oi, get back here!" she calls to the wayward Legionnaire.
Zahara ::Not recently, why?:: She ducks a flying tibia.
Varanim ::Never mind. Say, have you met Walker?::
The legionnaire continues wandering off in the wrong direction, walking right up to the door and opening it, then wandering down into the connecting hallway.
Varanim "Hold on," she instructs her current ride, hopping down. As she goes after the lost one, she checks first for the effect of an active spell on it.
Zahara ::Just the once. We were having tea with Mask, and he brought an army over, claiming that Masky had killed him.::
Varanim ::Would you describe him as... bitchy?::
Zahara "STARBURST DRAGON FLAME OF STARFALL!" ::Hmm I guess that would apply.::
There's definitely something going on here, Varanim notices. Some wispy trail of Essence seems to be drawing things in towards this direction -- it looks like only this Legionnaire was unfortunate enough to walk close enough to get caught up in it.
Varanim With a scowl of annoyance, the caste mark on Varanim's forehead flares to life, overlaying her vision with crabbed golden scribbles of her handwriting that detail the magic before her.
Varanim sees the contours of the effect that's drawn her legionnaire off-course now: a "motive magnet," an object that inexorably draws in anything that can move under its own power, if it's weak enough to fall under the object's sway. And it's moving, presumably becase someone (or some thing) is carrying it through the halls.
Varanim "Hurry toward the thing that's pulling you," she instructs it after a frowning moment, "and give it a nice tight hug."
The legionnaire waddles off excitedly down the hall.
Varanim follows a short distance back to get a look at the source of the problem, figuring that the dull booming outside indicates Zahara is keeping up her end just fine.
A quick application of Evidence-Discerning Method suggests to Varanim that the castle is the work of a controlling, seemingly polite yet bursting with inner rage, demanding and malicious princess, which is certainly an interesting factoid to discover.
Zahara leaps to her feet and strikes a pose (one steadying hand on the head of the legionnaire)
Outside, Hematite Legionnaires focus into the Fifth Uh Stormcloud Lightning Formation of Doom Thing and strike at a phalanx of skeletons, a thousand gleaming reddish-grey swords striking past armor and scattering tibias and fibulas across the featureless plain.
Inside, Varanim finds herself walking through the library when one of her Legionnaires seems to become confused, turning sideways and stepping over through the Overwhelming - Ripe aisle and across towards altogether not the correct door.
Zahara ::I should do this more often. This leading armies thing is pretty fun.::
Zahara ::How's the being alive thing going?::
Varanim ::Not dead yet. Have you done any architecture in this neighbor...? Hold on.::
Varanim "Oi, get back here!" she calls to the wayward Legionnaire.
Zahara ::Not recently, why?:: She ducks a flying tibia.
Varanim ::Never mind. Say, have you met Walker?::
The legionnaire continues wandering off in the wrong direction, walking right up to the door and opening it, then wandering down into the connecting hallway.
Varanim "Hold on," she instructs her current ride, hopping down. As she goes after the lost one, she checks first for the effect of an active spell on it.
Zahara ::Just the once. We were having tea with Mask, and he brought an army over, claiming that Masky had killed him.::
Varanim ::Would you describe him as... bitchy?::
Zahara "STARBURST DRAGON FLAME OF STARFALL!" ::Hmm I guess that would apply.::
There's definitely something going on here, Varanim notices. Some wispy trail of Essence seems to be drawing things in towards this direction -- it looks like only this Legionnaire was unfortunate enough to walk close enough to get caught up in it.
Varanim With a scowl of annoyance, the caste mark on Varanim's forehead flares to life, overlaying her vision with crabbed golden scribbles of her handwriting that detail the magic before her.
Varanim sees the contours of the effect that's drawn her legionnaire off-course now: a "motive magnet," an object that inexorably draws in anything that can move under its own power, if it's weak enough to fall under the object's sway. And it's moving, presumably becase someone (or some thing) is carrying it through the halls.
Varanim "Hurry toward the thing that's pulling you," she instructs it after a frowning moment, "and give it a nice tight hug."
The legionnaire waddles off excitedly down the hall.
Varanim follows a short distance back to get a look at the source of the problem, figuring that the dull booming outside indicates Zahara is keeping up her end just fine.
Eventually Varanim bends around a corner leading to a long straight hallway, and gets to watch her Legionnaire run at full speed down it towards the other end, where two rather large zombies -- it looks to Varanim like they were assembled from a mishmash of human and large-mammal parts -- hefting a giant, blackish-grey iron lump.
Varanim shuffles along after her mechanical conscript, narrowing her eyes at the lump ahead and looking for a match to its geometry in the cavernous depths of her memory.
zahara idly considers renaming the War Bell to Ring of Devastation as it peals, but decides that might be too corny.
zahara "28...29....30..." ::Are you dead yet?::
Varanim notes the giant people-lodestone with a critical eye. Too small to be serving as a cover for anything of use, and apparently (at least at this size) too insignificant to pose a meaningful threat in war to the Sunlands, though it'd certainly be an irritating trick for a strike against a lesser nation.
A close look at the material which makes it up leaves Varanim fairly certain that it was hewed from the rocks deep within the Labyrinth's coils, which leaves her with a slight uneasy feeling, but there does not seem to be anything distinguishing it from any other such lump of the same passively evil material.
Varanim ::No. Hey, you know what's wrong with the leylines in the Sunlands? They're boring, I just got an idea for fixing that.::
zahara ::Why does that notion concern me somewhat?::
Varanim ::Don't be a wuss.::
Varanim "Big hug!" she calls after the Legionnaire to remind it, after a moment of consideration.
The Legionnaire leaps through the air, extending its metallic arms to either side, and finds itself hanging, rather confusedly, from the large rock which the two beefy zombies continue to carry down the hall.
zahara ::I'm a wuss, now hmm? Last time I let you mess with the geomancy, I had no idea where the tea room was for a week.::
Varanim ::You always bring up boring old stuff. Here's a better question for the girl who likes to take things apart: What's the fastest way to stop two big zombies short of dire necromancy?::
Cerin ::A Daiklaive?:: Cerin interjects from half the world away. ::Or other large weapon?::
zahara ::As he says indeed. Try to avoid fire, as they can still walk around for a significant amount of time afterwards, which can get messy.::
Varanim ::Right, I'll just get my spare muscles out and do that. As usual, dire necromancy is the easy way.::
zahara ::Right, well just make sure not to necromance yourself to death.... you're not dead yet right?::
Varanim dusts her hands off, pauses a moment to admire the pendulum-like swaying of her idiot helper, and then slams her soulsteel palm into the floor. In a crackling line from her to the zombies, floor tile shatters and skeletal arms grope upward, latching on to anything that moves.
Varanim ::That was only 27, no rushing!::
zahara ::Oh, right... 28...29...30 what about now?::
A few scant moments later, bony hands hold fast even the meaty buffalo legs of the porter zombies, and the motive magnet's progress grinds to a complete halt.
Varanim whistles sharply, jerks her head in a "heel" motion, and folds her arms to glare disgustedly at the Legionnaire. If it remains stuck to the lodestone, she'll make tracks back for the others and pretend that Zahara miscounted if she asks about the missing one later.
Having already reached the center, the Legionnaire is able to -- albeit with great difficulty, and only under Varanim's watchful and judgmental eye -- drag itself slowly out of the singularity and back towards its companions.
<Varanim> "Keep this up and you might make party clown in a few years," Varanim says to the Legionnaire with one last withering look, then retakes her place on the other and waves forward impatiently.
The tiny portion of the Legion in Varanim's direct employ resume their previous path, marching through the library and up towards the beginnings of the Field of Towers wherein the group will begin its ascent.
Varanim ...28...29... ::No, I'm not. How are your explosions going?::
The pathway leads out through the library, around a set of twelve wells from which noxious and instantly fatal (were anyone able to be alive in this spot, which one could not) vapors exude, through a narrow path (about two feet wide) between two tall black walls,
past what looks to be a small building with what appears to be an umbrella carved on its front wall, and finally into the Field, where literally hundreds of tall structures rise up imposingly over the ground below.
zahara ::Quite vigorously. I'm afraid I'll be needing a shower when we get home.:: She ducks as another shower of miscellaneous parts fills the air.
Varanim picks the most common of the various ouroboron spirals popular in necrotic architecture and starts to select a tower based on that. Then she reconsiders and goes with the Third Sanguine Rose Petal Variant that was popular for a while in ancient times among the more frilly of her dark-robed ilk.
That decision leads Varanim past eight other towers, towards one that seems unusually tall, with twelve jagged horns curving out from its pinnacle to pierce the sky above.
The legionnaires stop in a perfect line in front of it and move their eyeless heads upward in an imitation of the act of impressed sight, one of several potentially endearing -- or annoying -- behavioral nuances encoded into the simulacra by their ancient creators.
Varanim Varanim, who always chooses annoyance, thumps one foot on the shoulder of her semi-sentient bipedal pack beast. "Unless you climb by staring, keep moving."
Jolted into action, the legionnaires march forward, grasping the large cast-iron doors of the tower and -- with a comically great amount of difficulty -- dragging them open before stepping into the hall within, a tall, marbled chamber in which several elegant objects d'art stand -- but not the slightest hint of a staircase.
Varanim ::Hm. How does that flying thing work again?::
zahara ::Generally the use of wings or essence is required.::
Varanim With a derisive sniff for that kind of limited thinking, she eyeballs the ceiling and picks the optimal spot for continued progress upward. Rapping on the skull of her ride, she points upward with the other hand. "Make like I'm round and that's the fat kid the other team had to take in dodgeball."
zahara ::Exactly why do you need to fly, anyway?::
Varanim ::I'll either tell you in a few seconds, or you should speed up the next 30-count.::
zahara ::Oh, now I'm intrigued.::
The Legionnaire does its -- now officially "annoying" -- upward-looking thing once more, scanning one of the shafts leading upwards into black infinity in the chamber's ceiling, and with a single forceful heave it tosses Varanim upwards like a particularly-unlikely-to-later-be-eaten sack of potatoes.
Varanim With the po-form strength born of--you guessed it--dire necromancy, Varanim waits until she's just about to hit the wall of the shaft she's been helpfully hurtled into. Then she lashes out with her soulsteel hand, jamming it into any available crevice on the wall and making one if necessary. After a shoulder-jarring moment to see if her weight will hold, she begins the upward climb.
zahara ::Are you dead yet?::
Varanim ::Arg.::
A few moments later, Varanim finds herself indeed climbing up, step by painful and excessively slow step, until finally, some nine exchanges with Zahara later, she emerges into a chamber.
The room she enters still bears the remnants of having once been a boudoir decorated rather extravagantly in Netheos Maiden couture, but seems to have been largely repurposed now as the storage chamber for one of the Walker's more precious resources:
thirteen cages hang in an ascending spiral, each easily large enough for a person to fit within, shaped of cold-wrought soulsteel in an infinitude of jagged points, razor-sharp bars, curving enclosures and other cruel amenities, spiralling upwards like some sort of sick windchime, with an exceedingly narrow spiral staircase the only manner with which one might reach the higher ones.
zahara ::Now?::
Varanim Stepping over several teddy bears wearing adorable but distressingly accurate little leather schoolboy uniforms, Varanim contemplates her prize(s). ::Hold on, I'm looking for a nametag.::
zahara ::He used to be Ivory Orchid Ghost, for the record.::
Varanim A derisive mental snigger is the only response.
Varanim Taking her time with the preparations, Varanim strolls to the center of the floor, kicks aside several lacy pillows in the shape of viscera, and empties half of her hip flask into her po-stomach before taking a seat.
Varanim Lighting a cigar, she lies back and watches the smoke snake upward to the ceiling, threading through the arrangement of cages. Recalling her study of Lucent's Mostrance, she next calls to mind all she knows of Ebon's Essence pattern, and waits for the smoke to collect in the one that fits him.
Varanim watches with interest as the smoke begins to rise, langorously moving from cage to cage and rejecting them each in turn when they do not match its purpose... finally settling in and forming a thick grey haze within the bars of the third Monstrance from the top.
Varanim hikes the narrow staircase to the appropriate one and sets about freeing it from whatever hanging--doubtless tacky--suspends it.
zahara pulls the hematite legion into full retreat, in a seemingly disorganized fashion more-or-less precisely calculated to draw more of the forces away from the pretty princess castle.
The army of zombies and skeletons pulls out, drawn instantly into zahara's feint due to their complete lack of brains.
Meanwhile, as Varanim begins to work on the elaborate, quadruple-knotted set of black metal chains that hold the cage to the ceiling, she suddenly hears something from the bottom of the shaft -- like someone encountering, and casually knocking over, her three attendant Legionnaires and then beginning to inspect the bottom of the shaft which she journeyed up a moment ago.
zahara As they run towards her, screaming and waving various implements of death, several of the legionnaires break off and circle around them, slow things that they are it's not even difficult. Having grown tired of her command, she leaps lightly into the center of the circle and commences with a whirling dance of death that none can escape. Her blades flicker in the light of the Kraken that still flails about, crushing and lighting afire all
zahara all who near them.
Varanim With a scowl Varanim gives up on the knot--which she is definitely smart enough to figure out, only it's not efficient is all--and climbs up on top of the cage. She picks the weakest-looking junction, hooks it over one of the many handy spikes, and jumps up and down until something breaks.
After several moments, something does indeed break, and the Monstrance drops suddenly towards a loud, angry crash on the floor below -- just in time for a gray, shaven woman's head (and accompanying cestied meaty fists) to pop out of the top of one of the shafts to see the cage's descent.
Varanim heaves a sigh for her long-departed dignity, resigns herself to a certain amount of spiky injury, and swings down inside the rounded shape of the cage. Like a hamster ball of doom, she rolls toward the now-occupied shaft, calling "Catch me if you can!" to the Legionnaires below.
Varanim "I don't mean that ironically!" she adds after another second of reflection on their cutsey programming.
Shards of Basalt takes almost a whole moment to register the shock of seeing an occupied Monstrance barrelling towards her like a horrifying and incongruous weapon of war -- just about one moment too long, as she isn't quite able to disengage her grip before the cage slams full-forcedly into her head
and sends her, Varanim, and the Monstrance all tumbling down towards the Legionnaires, who move back and forth rapidly, arms interlinked, attempting to stand in the correct place to successfully follow their last instruction.
Varanim ::On my way, I th-:: "Left! No, back a bi--aargh!"
zahara ::Uh... Are you dead yet?:: She flicks disgusting ichor from her daiklave, and looks for something large to attack. Her gaze comes to rest on a large construct. A few flips and a bounce or two off the heads of the brainless zombies, and she lands on the thing's back, running up its spiny back to just behind what passes for its head.
The Legionnaires entirely fail in their intended purpose of catching the Monstrance, but that's okay: Shards of Basalt hits the ground first with a loud and brutal thump, followed shortly thereafter by the Monstrance itself landing atop her with an equally loud squelch as it both falls upon her with its full weight and skewers through her extremities with its own in no fewer than three places.
Varanim "Scrub those punctures out or they'll fester," she advises after a grunt on landing, then she waves at her slightly incompetent but plucky assistants. "Carry me for the carnage!"
The Legionnaires grab the cage, lift -- with attendant blood spurts and a wheeze of pain from the semi-conscious Abyssal beneath -- and begin to run out with their newfound prize.
zahara Almost thrown off by the construct's flailing attempts to reach her, Zahara leaps over a clawed appendage, landing blade-down. The blue slab sinks into its flesh, and she gives it a vicious twist for good measure, before jumping back out of the way again.
Varanim relaxes for a moment, before recalling Zahara's proclivities. ::Still not dead. Where's the magma I need to avoid?::
zahara ::I left you a path out the front door, go left after the first tentacle. I'll make sure they don't aim for you.::
zahara hacks off a few limbs as they strike at her before, with a great two-handed strike, she lops the thing's head clean off.
Varanim directs the running Legionnaires with assorted yells and squawks, carefully making for the left as directed after the first tentacle.
zahara hops back on a legionnaire's shoulder to get a better view, moving her troops toward the fleeing Varanim. ::Are you... IN the Monstrance?::
Varanim ::Don't read too much into this, I promise that it's dumber than it looks.::
Varanim ::Also, I am swearing off this legion.::
zahara ::Ride too bumpy?::
Varanim ::How about you take us home, I wash the Abyssal effluvia off, and we never speak of this again.::
zahara ::Not even to Ebon?::
Varanim ::I can't answer that question on the grounds that I'm not talking about it ever again.::
zahara ::I'd like to note here that you are the only one agreeing to your proposal.::
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