2017-08-19: All They've Got

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  • Log: All They've Got
  • Cast: Morgan Newkirk, Jude Moshe, Cassidy Cain, Kent Hauch
  • Where: Guardian Temple, near the Great Aveh Desert
  • Date: August 20, 2017
  • Summary: As Morgan Newkirk and Cassidy Cain are trapped in the Guardian Temple due to the continuous shelling efforts by Shakhan's forces, Jude Moshe somehow manages to sneak through the battlefield and breach its interior. They are later joined by Kent Hauch, professional pyromaniac and leader of the infamous Black Ties gang. As the foursome pick their way through the ancient ruins, their adventure concludes with a job none of them want, from overseers none of them respect, and Time will only tell whether any of them intend to do what is tasked of them by the Powers That Be.

<CARD>

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++<* The Guardian Temple *>++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++<* CHALLENGE - A Clash of Beasts *>+++++++++++++++++++++++
|Type: Entry |Dungeon Ability: Combat |Challenge Rating: 3 |
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++< Challenge Information: >+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The Metal Beasts have forced their way into the foyer of the Temple, along with other members of the Metal Demons. For those who seek to push in deeper, there is a battlefield to be crossed. Gunsmoke ARM shots shoot across the way, scarring the ancient stone of the foyer. Spells occasionally hurl across, lightning and ice scarring the very ground that they walk on.

The Metal Beasts are ill-inclined to let others pass. As you make your way through the confusion, a pack of armored hounds begins to lope after, anger visible in their steely green eyes. They leap -- fangs bared, claws raised, and the battle is joined before you can reach the door that leads deeper into the Temple.
+Dungeon Conditions: Suffer, Fright+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.

There has been time to catch ones breath. Have a smoke. Down a bit of what heals ya. Wonder off from the main little group. Which is what Morgan has done, in search of Cassidy Cain.

He's not being quiet though.

Mostly because he doesn't want to come upon her in a indelicate state and have his eyes shot out. Or flashbanged. Or pepper sprayed. Or whatever other tricks the conwoman might have.

"Cass? The hell you get to? The others are about ta go explorin and we should stick together!" He calls out as he rounds a corner, the shelling knocking dust off the ceiling and walls as it continues.

He moves into a bigger chamber, several passages leading off of it in search of the woman. "I mean those Aveh bastards don't look very descrimiate. There just flingin shells everywhere. Really unprofessional if ya ask me. Don't know where they might lan--"

His venting session shut down as a massive impact against the Temple blows out the wall right behind him. Senind him ass-over-teakettle into the chamber before he comes up in a crouch and pulls his pistol. "JUST LIKE THAT!"

The corridor he came down is collapsed and though the hole boil a dozen Metal Beasts. Hound like creates all claws and teath that rush forwards, snapping and growling as Morgan slams his ARM into action. Energy shields springing up to block and channel those critters away from him.

"Stick together I said. Don't wonder off I said. WHY DO PEOPLE NEVER LISTEN!"

DG: Morgan Newkirk has used his Tool Shield Gauntlet toward his party's challenge, A Clash of Beasts.

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

"Pretty sure that's called 'scorched earth' tactics."

The words come, casual as can be, prefacing a raucous peel of gunfire from just behind Morgan as the Metal Beasts bear down on him, all metal and fury. Shotgun slugs burst into molten hot flames upon impact with the creatures, intent to superheat and - hopefully - just start to melt the monsters where they stand. Even if where they stand is dangerously close to Morgan.

It's fine; he's got a shield.

The source comes from a lackadaisical (but respectable) reporter who wasn't quite present on the battlefield leading up to this escape into the ravaged, rumbling Guardian Temple; how Jude Moshe managed to get into the temple, much less evade Aveh and Metal Demon forces in the process, is anyone's guess -- but the journalist takes it in such natural stride it's like he's been here all along, perhaps even before people who are too lazy to pose before him, CASS.

Regardless -- cigarette hanging between his lips, Jude Moshe soon joins the fray; the mechanical form of Jacob can be seen swooping effortlessly past the beasts to forge further into the temple and scout out the way forward as Jude ratchets more slugs into his ARM and fires off several rounds of ice-infused ammunition, looking to freeze several more in place with the blue glow of runes and whine of his revolving shotgun.

"And I know you mean well, Morg, but here's a piece of advice:

"The only reward for trying to herd cats is premature hair loss."

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Speaking of which -- "So, where's Cassie?"

DG: Jude Moshe has contributed a Combat Basic Action toward his party's challenge, A Clash of Beasts.

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.

"Search me," Morgan drawls as he starts to fire repeatedly into the Demon's ranks. "I'm guessing we make enough noise she'll show up ta tell us ta be quiet."


<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

Again.

The sound of the door slamming shut rings thunderously in the dark. Underneath closed lids, Cassidy's eyes move.

Again.

The warm splash against the side of her face, the tang of copper drops lingering on the corner of her mouth.

AGAIN.

Pain. It splits her from belly to sternum, fire and lightning raking through her ribs. The problem with absolute darkness is when you fall, it is a disorienting thing; the drop seems endless until tired bones hit the dirt, rattling teeth and paving the way for more of it.

Wake up.

Emerald eyes snap open, taking in nothing but the black and for a few precious seconds, her heart leaps to her throat and panic twists her stomach. Realization sets in quickly, however, when the not-too-distant sound of chaos filters through the cotton-fog of an exhausted sleep clouding her skull. Hand pushing aside the spent medical kit and her own supply of hypodermic needles, she shifts, knees drawing up and rubbing both hands over her face in an effort to push herself into some manner of wakefulness. The aches from her earlier bouts remain, but thankfully dulled by whatever pharmaceutical cocktail she has administered to herself.

She finds herself against the wall and on her ass, though it's disconcerting enough that she doesnt remember closing her eyes and succumbing to exhaustion, if not just for - what time is it? Not that she could tell, the ruined hallway she is in holds nothing but dust, sand and darkness, with most of the mess somewhere in the east of her.

"Fuck," she says again, drawing her tattered shirt back over her shoulders and the bandages criss-crossing her front, hastily buttoning it up and throwing her vest over it, fingers fumbling with the strings. It's an innocuous looking thing, nothing so out of place in the wardrobes of female Drifters, but there are surprises underneath and it's saved her life more times than she could count. She manages to push herself up, and move, her feet cutting a gradually faster clip when she realizes she's not out of the thick of it yet and those stupid Avehites are still making things worse outside.

On the way, she is checking her ARMs, taking stock of her ammunition and whatever grenades she has left on her person. She doesn't see what's happening outside of the temple, but it's not as if she could go back the way she came. It sounded like a war zone out there.

She skids to a stop when she reaches a crossroads in the temple, pistols in both hands, eyes flicking side to side to account for moving shadows.

"Stick together I said. Don't wander off I said. WHY DO PEOPLE NEVER LISTEN!"

The words are faint, but the voice is familiar. Relief she doesn't want to admit to floods her lungs as she twists on her heel to follow the sound of the exasperated cry and the whine of a very familiar ARM charging up.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Through the smoke, something small and armed with a little red light comes winking from the darkness, arcing towards where the largest concentration of the Metal Beasts have congregated that's away from Morgan and Jude. The grenade drops into the sand with a thump, its landing masked by the hail of ARMs-fire from both men.

The resulting explosion rushes through the temple halls. She remains by the entranceway of her ingress towards their direction, her revolver out. Eyes falling on the man with red hair, she blinks once, jaw dropping. "What the f-- when did you get here?" she wonders, flummoxed.

Because as stated earlier, it's a mystery.

To both: "Well, like bloody hell am I stepping foot in there, there's a crossroads somewhere behind me. Cross-hallways? Cross-alleys? Whatever, but maybe we better take a route other than this one."

<Pose Tracker> Kent Hauch has posed.

As the fight pitches on, Metal Beasts snarling and snapping, there is a sudden bloom of flame in the dark corridor beyond, red and harsh. The flame separates into four - a small, steady burn hanging in the air; a cherry-red spot of a lit cigar; and two sputtering chemical flames low and to either side.

For a brief moment, the light suggests a hulking humanoid figure before the chemical flames arc forward, resolving into burning rags stuffed into two glass bottles containing a clear liquid tinted with an oily iridescence.

Funny you mention scorched earth.

The bottles crash into the Metal Beasts shortly after Cassidy's grenade, massive washes of yellow flame bursting upward, blackening the ceiling as an acrid wave of foul, sharp-smelling smoke rolls out. The flame isn't doing much until it's followed by a third bottle - no rags, just a green, viscous liquid. The Ignition Tipple shatters dead center where the hot flames meet, the temperature high enough to trigger the advanced fuel.

Spiralling, sparking blue-and-green flame explodes upward in a fast, violent pillar with a flash of light. The fire burns out quickly, but is bright enough to reveal brief hints of the figure beyond: a huge man with something massive on his back in a fine ash grey longcoat, smoke from his cigar curling around a bald head. His eyes are fixed on the flame in avid delight.

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Wotcher, lads, you'll lose your bloody noses!"

DG: Kent Hauch has used his Tool Molotov Cocktail toward his party's challenge, A Clash of Beasts.

DG: The party led by Morgan Newkirk has passed this challenge! The party gained 20 exploration! If anyone needs to use party management commands, do so now. Otherwise, the next round's GM may begin the next round with +dungeon/draw.

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.

The beasts swarm but there is a lot of things in their way.

Most of those things are bullets.

The Metal Deamons are powerful but they arn't that powerful. The massed fire that comes their direction. Channeled as they are by the shields, tears into their ranks before most can get close enough to do damage.

Then a grenade comes arcing in though the smoke.

The fire just puts paid on their very bad day as with a howl they break and run, the few left yipeing their way to saftey as they go. The hole in the wall collapsing in on itself just after, leaving their only option to be Cassidy's maze of 'Cross-hallways'.

The fire continues though and as Morgan comes up from his crouch and slowly slides his pistol away he glances towards Jude out of the side of his eyes. "I'm gonna guess he's not with you?"

A twitch of a smirk then.

"You know Jude here," Voice raisng to Cass could hear. "He gets in all sorts of places he ain't supposed to be."

Then back towards Kent. Trying not to choke on the fumes.

"And I'm gonna guess ya ain't with the demons."

<CARD>

++++++++++++++++++++++++++<* The Guardian Temple *>+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++<* CHALLENGE - A Sudden Rubble Pile *>++++++++++++++++++++
|Type: Exploration |Dungeon Ability: Brute |Challenge Rating: 2 |
++++++++++++++++++++++++--< Challenge Information: >++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The battle still rages outside. Sometimes, it has an effect on those inside. As you walk down this hall, there is a sudden and powerful rumble that tears through the whole of the Temple. The force of it might knock you to your feet and send you sprawling. That isn't the only thing it knocks.

Up ahead, part of the ceiling collapses. A huge slab of stone falls down, then shatters into dust and huge chunks of rock -- which then block the hallway up to three-quarters of the way to the ceiling. The rubble will need to be cleared away, because that is certainly a very tight fit.
+Dungeon Conditions: Overzealous, Tire++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Wotcher, lads, you'll lose your bloody noses!"

When the smoke clears to reveal the gray-swathed form of Kent Hauch, Cassidy's expression flattens immediately - but only for a few seconds before she decides it's probably easier for everyone else involved to pretend that she doesn't remember the Black Tie member. The last she had encountered him, he was throwing the town he had just set on fire the middle finger and she shot him.

You know Jude here. He gets in all sorts of places he ain't supposed to be.

"Ay, well, I'm sure it'd be a better working relationship if he dinnae try tae take my job most of the time," she tells Morgan, though Jude gets a wink at the wake of the good-natured quip. At another round of brutal shelling from the outside world, debris and chunks of ceiling dislodged from up on high, her stare wanders upwards, a look of absolute consternation on her pale features.

"Ach, bloody hell," is all she says, shielding her face at the sheer mount of heat that suddenly wafts from the chamber when Kent brings his unique brand of pyrotechnics to bear. "Step lively, lads, we can do all of our fookin guessing games later. Think we better follow the smartest member of our party and get the shite out of here."

With that, she turns around and starts running towards what she believes is the center of the temple.

Unfortunately this is a new find, and probably centuries old. As the party wanders further into the ancient ruins, large chunks of stone start to fall in earnest, cracking the floor upon impact and risking the heads and limbs of everyone involved. Another large piece of stone crashes into an already time-ravaged pillar, which lists sideways, to tumble headlong into another and another....

What is happening is apparent. Cassidy lets out a loud, profane curse.

There's no way they can outrun it but they'll have to try.

And they almost make it. Almost. The last pillar crumbles under the weight of others and an entire portion of the ceiling just collapses, forcing dead runs to skid to a halt and throw themselves at the mercy of Luck and Physics. The resulting destruction ends with a thick cloud of silt and dust, nearly obscuring the bodies involved from view and leaving rubble piled high enough to become a serious problem.

DG: Cassidy Cain has used her Tool Heavy Grenade toward her party's challenge, A Sudden Rubble Pile.

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

"Y'know. I was just in the neighborhood."

This is the sum whole of Jude Moshe's explanation as to his sudden appearance in the ruins, coupled with the lethargic lift and roll of his shoulders. If he has more to say -- who knows, he very well could have -- it is soon drowned out by the scorch of fire and the familiar sting of heat burning its way down to his lungs even more efficiently than the menthol in his cigarette cools it, washing tanned skin with the familiar sensation of war.

Or riots.

Either way.

Amber eyes snap to the side -- and find themselves upon that huge, bald, firestarter, smoking his cigar and reveling in the burn. Dark red brows scooch up a fraction of an inch at the man's words, or perhaps in recognition. It's hard to say.

"... Is he related to you, Cassie?" is his first, question, full of seemingly honest wondering.

It's a good question to ask, all things considered about the context.

Still, when Cassidy weighs in, the reporter's response is the ghost of a smile offered her way as beasts freeze and burn in unison. "I figured, with you charging off to the front lines, someone else had to take care of the sneaking. Life is a balance, Cassie," he explains, with an absolute lack of commitment to any of those words or lazy philosophizing. When those beasts are dealt with though, and Cassidy makes her proclamation -- Jude is quick to follow, giving a single, passing glance back Kent's way. A simple smile, an easy wave.

"Hope it's not too much to ask you don't burn the place down at least until we're done."

And, affably glib as ever, the reporter carries on until they reach those crumbling ruins. Pillars collapsing like a domino effect harken him back to his conversation not days earlier with Josephine. His head tilts.

"Well, this is gonna end we--"

BOOM

No time for words. Not now; the journalist just acts, rushing in after Cassidy and leveraging his shotgun to shoot a flaming burst of firepower in a broiling, thick brush of magical strength. It isn't his demolition shell -- but hopefully, it'll be enough to clear some of the rubble to make their escape before the whole place comes crashing down around them.

DG: Jude Moshe has contributed a Brute Basic Action toward his party's challenge, A Sudden Rubble Pile.

<Pose Tracker> Kent Hauch has posed.

Kent Hauch, leader of the Black Ties, is instantly recognizable as he steps forward and draws one hand out of a pocket of his longcoat with a small white handkerchief held in one burn-scarred hand - a recent addition. Rumors have it he burned his hands in that spooky Hollow that was all the rage a while back - the last person in Lacour to act like he knew more than that had his jaw and arm broken, one leg dislocated, and his own hands burned for his trouble.

He did not come forward with more information.

Kent bursts a plume of smoke from his nose, cigar clamped in his teeth as he swipes the handkerchief over his scalp, dabbing at sweat. Red River's tank hangs heavy on his back. He nonchalantly waves at the smoke from the dying blue fire as he steps over it. "Too right. Not my bloody problem either, innit?" He doesn't bother introducing himself. Ever since the Black Ties kidnapped Lacour's king, his face has been on more walls than not.

The poster made him look fatter than he is. He doesn't have much of a neck, but it's certainly not from overindulgence.

He tucks the handkerchief away, and then his other hand slips from his longcoat, hanging free. A tension of violence radiates off him. There's no reason he'd start shooting, right? There's zero gain, if he hasn't come in here for them specifically. "Don't believe I've 'ad the pleasure, 'Morg.'" He only spares Jude a simple glance before his head rolls to the side, eyes fixing on Cassidy and lighting up. "'allo, luv," he says. He remembers. There's that other question hanging in the air there: just how much else does he know? Do he and Fargo lie around on starry nights and chat about girls?

In response to her assertion of being the smartest, Kent snorts, but doesn't argue, because he's shockingly self-aware for a ganger. He simply invites himself along wordlessly, thudding along behind Morgan and Jude.

+KENT forced his way onto the party. Rename (N/N)

He maintains a slow, unhurried pace until the others slip out of his sight, because it's scarier if he doesn't run. You have to worry about your image as a big gang boy. When Jude glances back to wave, Kent shows his teeth. "We'll see if the mood strikes-like."

He whistles as he comes up behind the others at the roadblock, reaching over his right shoulder to the Red River, the ARM's gun magnetically stuck onto the side of the tank where he can easily reach it. The metal thumps as he pulls it free. Kent's thumb dials along the controls, the weapon's barrel extending out and widening into a nozzle.

An arc of molten rock burns over everyone's heads, melting into the fallen rubble, pebbles of tephra spraying out and clattering on the floor to settle and smoke. The rock starts to settle a little. He's really not being very careful.


DG: Kent Hauch has contributed a Brute Basic Action toward his party's challenge, A Sudden Rubble Pile.

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.

As the smoke clears and Morgan stares at the rubble the gunman quirks an eyebrow. "...ya know. I think the smartest member of the party is my damn cat. He stayed home." His ears are half laid back against his skull as he stares at the fallen pillars.

He looks back the way they came. The sounds of combat haven't stopped and more shells could land any moment.

A smirk then though as Kent just invites himself along for the ride. "Morgan Newkirk." The fox introduces himself with a flash of a grin. "Always wondered what the leader of the Black Ties looked like. The wanted posters make ya look fat. And they didn't get the nose right."

There is a shake of his head.

"They never get the nose right."

A sigh for the poor skills of wanted poster artists before he turns his attention back to the rubble pile.

His ARM glows as his shields engage again, this time to bulldose the rubble shattered by others out of the way. To make a path before the whole damn place collapses in on themselves.

"Technicly we didn't know how this was the front lines until we got here." The fox adds as he works.

DG: Morgan Newkirk has contributed a Brute Basic Action toward his party's challenge, A Sudden Rubble Pile.

DG: The party led by Morgan Newkirk has failed this challenge! The party gained 10 exploration! If anyone needs to use party management commands, do so now. Otherwise, the next round's GM may begin the next round with +dungeon/draw.

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

She isn't the smartest member of the party, but there wasn't much time to clarify that, either. Really, she reckons that if the four of them didn't slow him down, Jacob the mechanical bird would be out of this hellhole by now. Instead, he's stuck with all of them.

Is he related to you, Cassie?

Cassidy is working a grenade off her bandolier, twisting it to arm it. The question posed has her giving Kent a very long look before a half-smile tilts towards Jude's direction. "Well," she begins. "I did tell the blue-plated Metal Demon leader - was he the one that got bitchslapped by a building in Old Petra? - that I was born of fire while he told me he probably obliterated my ancestors. Dinnae think that made much sense, because if he did, I probably would nae exist. Metal Demons, right? They all look alike and armed with faulty logic. How the bloody hell they managed tae wipe all of us out before, I dinnae ken. As far as the firebug's concerned though...." She squints at Kent.

"Nae discounting that possibility, either. You ken me, luv. I'm flexible."

'allo, luv, Kent says. There's a blithe smile and a wiggle of her fingers from where she stands.

"How high's that bounty now, luv?" she wonders.

If there's a question hanging in the air at that, the blonde conwoman ignores it, though there's a possibility that she doesn't know one exists at all - she is presently unaware of Fargo Foobach's connection with Kent Hauch.

Morgan, at least, brings up the chance to clarify. "He'd count, if he were actually here. But I meant Jake," the blonde replies, taking a step back when Jude moves forward to discharge his weapon towards the pile of rubble. She moves like water, despite her injuries, gestures fluid and instinctive when she takes up position slightly to the back and to the side of him, within a hair's breadth of his shadow.

With fire and pulsing blasts coming from Kent and Morgan, respectively, the woman finally lobs her grenade into the cocktail of hellfire and damnation they're all making together. The sounds of another explosion rocks the chambers. For a very glorious split second, the way is clear.

....except none of them are being careful.

More of the ceiling crumbles and collapses, filling up the hole that they've managed to make and sealing them back up again in the same hallway they're in.

Cassidy groans.

"Well. Plan B." There's a glance at the rest. "Better find another way around, I s'pose."

<CARD>

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++<* The Guardian Temple *>++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+++++++++++++++++++++<* CHALLENGE - Grasping in the Dark *>+++++++++++++++++++++
|Type: Exploration |Dungeon Ability: Wits |Challenge Rating: 2 |
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++< Challenge Information: >+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
As soon as your entire party walks into the door leading into this room, the doorway behind you slams shut. That presents two problems: the heavy stone door blocks the way off that you entered from. However, it has also obscured all sources of light. The room inside of here is pitch black. There may be a torch or a fire pit, but you can hear something else. A faint sound, like a hiss.

And the sound of scales, slithering across the floor. It seems that you are not alone in here -- and you will need to think of a way to light the room quickly to escape and avoid a bite from whatever creature slithers along the ground.
+Dungeon Conditions: Stupify, Bad Luck++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

<Pose Tracker> Kent Hauch has posed.

"Is not likely," Kent grates at Cassidy, twitching the gun as he stops firing. As the hosing stops, a line of lava sears into the ground, narrowly missing the people in front of him. "If my parents abandoned such a stunning example of baby'ood as your truly, I figure they'd've tossed you in a bloody river and moved on without much of a care.

He clicks Red River back onto its tank, satisfied - until the rocks fall back down. The slight upturn in his lips falls into a downturn real fast. He snarls at the rocks in sudden anger, shouldering through and lifting one leg to stomp down at the rubble.

On the one hand, this obviously solves nothing. On the other, he does chip a surprising amount of rock out with the solid heel of his brass-capped boots. A vein bulges out on the right side of his head, the latent violence clinging to him getting a bit more intense. As if responding to his emotions - it is a Metal Demon ARM, after all - the hose and chamber of Red River glow a dull red with heat.

"Fuck a Plan B," he snarls, swinging about, shouldering through again. He takes point with an aggressive kind of confidence, taking a right hand turn and pulling Red River again in irritation, dragging the gun's barrel against the wall as he turns the corner, melting a slash of rock to mark their passage.

--

A few more turns later, Kent seems less stormy, and is finally commenting: "...they make the big bounties all chunky-like in those wanted posters so they seem less intimidatin', right? Fat people are less scary since you figger you can just run on away. Like Descartes, 'ey, remember that piece'a--"

slam

"Bloody 'ell." Kent's face is vaguely lit by the slowly burning long match still stuck behind his ear. When he hears the slithering, he goes from irritated to - in an exciting first - anxious. "Bloody 'ell!"

He starts scrambling for the bag hanging off his wrist, glass clattering as he takes out another bottle, bringing it up to the long match and hurling it down practically at his feet.

DG: Kent Hauch has contributed a Wits Basic Action toward his party's challenge, Grasping in the Dark.

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

"Still," Jude observes off-handedly, shotgun falling away into his coat and hands clasping behind the back of his head as Kent furiously goes to town on that wall, all magma and fury and physical frustration.

"He's got your temper, too."

He says it, at least, like it's a compliment.

~*~

And so Jude Moshe magnanimously and patiently (indifferently) waits for Kent Hauch's tantrum to bear fruit. When it does, the reporter has already whittled through his cigarette, grinding the butt of it into a pile of ash and crunched paper as he looks towards the impromptu opening mademelted into the fixtures.

"Well," he begins easily, stepping forward as he shoves hands into his pockets. "There you go."

And off he marches, into the dark. Into the -absolute- dark. Somehow, no light reaches this room -- and it renders everything around it steeped in unnatural shadows. Sight betrays Jude as he looks around, seeing nothing...

... but hearing plenty.

hssssss

"That's definitely a good sound."

And so, Kent starts to scramble, and Jude, at least, seems unconcerned. The reason might be because he's -that- indifferent -- or it could be that he has a plan. "Cassie's right, Morg. Sorry to tell you-- " he begins. That bottle his the ground with a shatter of glass. And as it does--

...the sound of chirping can be heard in the distance.

"...Jake's definitely the smartest teammate we've got."

The automaton is there, in the darkness. If there is enough light summoned, they'll see the bird, flying through the air, guiding the way. If not, well -- those tinny chirps will have to serve as a guide, ones that Jude seems intent to follow as he carefully maneuvers through the dark.

"Wouldn't make too many noises if I were you," he suggests, in general, AFTER Kent just threw down a whole bunch of what he assumes are combustibles.

"Heard snakes in this area will digest you alive for days to eke out all the nutrients..."

Helpful incentive!

DG: Jude Moshe has used his Tool Jacob toward his party's challenge, Grasping in the Dark.

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.

Morgan chuckles as the mess just falls in on itself just before they can get it all clear. "Well. That seems to be spot on for today's troubles." He finally said as he lets his ARM fall to his side. Then a pause as he adds on the heels of Jude's comment. "Maybe one of em got most of the fire and the other one got most of the stealth?" A pause. "Maybe there wasn't a lot of stealth to go around."

...."I suppose that makes some strange kind of sense. Wouldn't do ta scare off all the potentional bounty hunters by makin' all the bounty pictures scary as hell." Morgan having an animated conversation about the pros and cons of bounty hunting posters just before Kent walks face-first into a wall.

"...must have taken a wrong turn..." Then something touches his boot. "...oh yes. Thats the best sound." He adds as he takes a reflexive step back and rips the pistol from his holster. The chirps though. Thats a better sound indeed.

"Guardians bless that damn bird." The fox mutters as he starts to step towards where that noise came from. Just as he hears that bottle shatter and fire roar into existance behind him.

"...and that solves the light problem..."

DG: Morgan Newkirk has contributed a Wits Basic Action toward his party's challenge, Grasping in the Dark.

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

I figure they'd've tossed you in a bloody river and moved on without much of a care.

"That right?" Cassidy wonders of Kent, flashing him a blade-sharp smile. "Just figured your parents must swell with pride every time they tell their friends you died in a house fire."

But with their passage blocked, the Black Ties leader decides to storm off himself and find another way through, which they eventually do. But upon stepping the dark space, instincts scream at her to recoil. With all light effectively obscured, the blonde's expression takes on a withering, exasperated look. Thankfully, given the lack of light, nobody can see it.

Though they do hear slithering.

"That better nae be snakes," is all she says, from where she's standing, just as Kent hurls a bottle full of stuff at their feet.

The entire floor is crawling with snakes - the kinds with rattles, with diamond-shaped heads, with teeth and all with mouths that can unhinge and swallow a human whole. As the Black Ties leader exclaims, instincts take over, the blonde backing up immediately against the wall with a thud. Something large and scaly falls on her shoulder, fetid breath and a forked tongue brushing against her cheek.

Her responses are immediate.

First, she screams, nevermind that Jude just said it's better not to make too much noise, and throws the snake off her shoulder, only she doesn't watch where she's aiming, and the reptile sails towards Kent. To its infinite credit, the medium-sized boa constrictor looks just as terrified as Cassidy.

Second, her lighter is out and flicked to life, to try and look around her dark alcove, only to find the walls crawling with snakes and the very heart of the room taken up by an obese python that's busily swallowing some of the smaller, more ornery snakes.

"Are you fookin kidding me?!" she cries.

Thankfully, Jacob is there, to the rescue. The small tongue of flame from her lighter catches those metallic feathers and she wastes absolutely no time following after the bird and Jude, because snakes.

Why did it have to be snakes?

DG: Cassidy Cain has used her Tool Pocket Lighter toward her party's challenge, Grasping in the Dark.

DG: The party led by Morgan Newkirk has passed this challenge! The party gained 15 exploration! If anyone needs to use party management commands, do so now. Otherwise, the next round's GM may begin the next round with +dungeon/draw.

<Pose Tracker> Kent Hauch has posed.

Kent clearly feels better once the flame's up. It's hard to tell whether the dark, the snakes, or the specific combination thereof had him spooked. He wipes off his head as everyone else goes through their own various paroxysms.

Snake flies at his head, though.

The gang leader scowls at it, his left hand snapping out, closing around the snake's neck-analogue. He doesn't have the presence of mind (nor in the case of the Todds the necessary abject stupidity) for the Art of the Hot Body. The snake doesn't start to boil in his hand. Kent instead grips the top of its head with the other hand and dispassionately rips its skull off, calmly throwing both pieces into the fire.

Probably not the snakes that were the problem, then.

Now that he can see, and also owing to his many layers of finery - summer-weight, of course - the ganger is once again relaxed despite the horrible situation, having been through and caused worse. Frankly, after the Hollow, he's attained a certain unflappability toward external stimuli.

Kent marches after Jude's bird, frowning up at it and taking a mental note. Cassidy's counterbarb bounces off him. "If I ever was their son, that version of me did die in fire, didn't I? Now stop screamin'. I ain't even shot at you yet." Another snake drops down at him, taking its shot - Kent elbows the tank on his back, popping it open, and unceremoniously pushes the poisonous thing into the white-glowing chamber before it can strike.

Which could be a terrifying thought for anyone who realizes Kent could lift them.

<CARD>

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++<* The Guardian Temple *>++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++<* CHALLENGE - The Hidden Switch *>+++++++++++++++++++++++
|Type: Exploration |Dungeon Ability: Wits |Challenge Rating: 1 |
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++< Challenge Information: >+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The door at the end of this hallway is closed. A push won't open it, and some examination indicates that it must lift up into the wall above it. There isn't an immediately obvious way to make it do so. However, a large set of reliefs are carved into the wall around the door. They depict the Guardians in stylized form, each surrounded by elements of their domain. Perhaps, they provide a clue -- or hide the way forward.
+Dungeon Conditions: Exhaust++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

Cassidy screams bloody murder. She curses, frantically ejecting those snakes from her person. And Jude pauses, just long enough, to look back at her with the lift of dark eyebrows.

"Snakes, huh?" he asks, very casually.

"The one thing I've seen you scream about, and it's something that doesn't even have legs."

Still -- he stays ahead of her, if only to have another point to focus on besides Jacob beyond, as he carefully maneuvers through that serpentine pit. A few he kicks away if they get too close -- but otherwise, he just takes it calm, and slow, and steady, as if very intentionally putting himself forward as the opposite of a threat to those many and varied scaled predators.

Not that Kent or Cassidy are really helping with presenting that kind of image.

Eventually, though, they make it past, and as they do, Jude heaves a weary little sigh and shoves his hand into his pockets. He pauses, feeling something smooth and long within, like a line of warm leather rope. He blinks. Looks down.

And stares at the face of a small, baby snake, blinking at him attentively.

"..."

A second passes.

And then he unceremoniously just sort of...

... smacks it right out of his pocket.

"Anyway," he continues on gamely, his eyes focused on Kent and that tank. "Fancy ARM you got there, huh? You usually use snakes for fuel?" The tone is light, easy going, even as Jude reaches into his pocket once more to grab a lighter. His cigarette case is next, flicking it open as he wanders into the next room; Jacob is already circling around it near those reliefs, chirping as if to call attention to them.

"Y'know, I bet I'd get more than a few new readers if I could get an interview with you and your crew in..." he begins, before squinting at those reliefs. A thoughtful frown creases his lips.

"... Huh. Maybe there's a hidden switch somewhere in there. What's the Guardians the Baskars love so much in this region...?"

The words trail off, thoughtful but unconcerned, as Jude steps forward. Amber eyes perusing those reliefs, he drags fingers across them, looking for any that might sink with the proper pressure applied.

"Gotta hand it to them, at least -- Guardians are at least consistent in their vagaries."

DG: Jude Moshe has contributed a Wits Basic Action toward his party's challenge, The Hidden Switch.

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

Snakes, huh?

At the lift of that dark crimson brow, Cassidy makes a quiet chuffing noise. "Dinnae get the wrong idea," she tells him, a mite defensively. "It was just surprising. That can happen on occasion and you ken me, I generally like surprises - most of the time. And there's plenty of horrifying things out there without legs, like Morgan's tenth wife."

Pause.

"Dinnae ask. It's a long story."

But he keeps himself in front of her; emerald eyes wander from Jacob to the center of the taller man's back. Unable to help it, a small, somewhat hapless smile tugs on the corner of her mouth, rolling her stare upwards and taking a quiet breath. A single exhalation of self-deprecation, or chastisement, before her attention drifts sideways to watch Kent stuff a snake in the tank.

"Dinnae ken, luv," she tells the Black Tie. "Would nae make much difference tae me if you sprung fully grown from a dragon's arsehole, though that's probably sommat Jude can include tae spice up an account of your life if you need tae make it even more fantastic."

All said as she drags out her own cardboard box of smokes, frowning at the two left. Plucking one out with her teeth, she fishes out her lighter, absently rolling her thumb over the ouroboros decal in a contemplative fashion, sapphire eyes glinting faintly in the half-light of the temple. A few sparks later, she's drawing a deep inhale, cheeks hollowing as smoke fills her mouth and nicotine surges into her bloodstream. Some semblance of relief fills her eyes, untangling the bundle of nerves she had become when stumbling into the snake pit.

Tilting her head up to look at the carved reliefs, she takes a few steps forward. Wordlessly, she offers the flame to Jude's unlit cigarette while her green, gold-flecked stare takes stock of the puzzle before them. The cherry end of her cancer stick lingers and for a while she says nothing, sinking into silence as she thinks.

"It's a matching game," she concludes. "Like one of those old gypsy puzzle boxes, if you know the lore." She points at each. "Earth, Fire, Wind, Water, Ice..."

She pauses as she points at the last symbol. "Lightning. Except that's nae the symbol for lightning."

How the blonde actually knows enough Guardians lore is presently a mystery to most, save for those who are observant and have been around her at least, tying to whatever relationship she has with the chief medicine man in the Baskar encampment perpetually situated between Adlehyde and Lacour. Moving towards the wall, she pushes at the mis-matched relief.

DG: Cassidy Cain has used her Tool Pocket Lighter toward her party's challenge, The Hidden Switch.

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.

"Oh my god don't even go there Cassidy Cain!" Morgan's voice comes from somewhere behind Cass as the fox makes his way out. Totally distracted by what Cass said he bounces off a wall before making it out of a room. The man is shaking out one leg, apparently a snake latched onto his boot and wouldn't let go. Another tiny one is curled around his ear as he grumbles and stumbles out of the room.

He doesn't smoke, but he could use a drink. Pulling out a small bottle of whiskey as he tears the cork out with his teath before taking a swig of the burning liquer and glancing around at their new surroundings.

"Well ya gotta use something to keep the fire stoked, might as well recycle right?" He comments towards Jude and Kent on the subject of snakes for fuel. His eyes though go towards the relief on the wall, and a snort of laughter escapes.

"All gods love their vagaries. Guardians are just keepin it in theme." He adds with a smirk as he traces the edges of some of the stonework.

He taps a few faces, not looking around. "If ya wanna hear somethin' though, don't get her started on what lives in the ocean." He adds helpfully towards Jude. "She'll be at it for hours. The horrors of the seaaaaaaaaa."

He says it as one would a horror story as he looks for the switch.

DG: Morgan Newkirk has contributed a Wits Basic Action toward his party's challenge, The Hidden Switch.

<Pose Tracker> Kent Hauch has posed.

"Oh," Kent responds, with the kind of casual air that means he's being anything but, "pretty much anything can end up melted down in 'ere." He bangs the tank again, the lid swinging obligingly closed, the temperature immediately dropping back down. Then his expression goes flat for a minute.

Journalists.

A half-smile clicks on his mouth, though it doesn't get anywhere near his eyes. "Sam's always lookin' for a little drinking money, innit he? He's always willing to sit around and talk if someone's buyin'."

He shoulders past Jude as he's examining the door, puffing another plume of aromatic smoke from his hand-rolled, and he kicks at the door with a chime of brass. He gives Cassidy a look as the woman just keeps on talking about the circumstances of birth, stormclouds gathering on his brow.

Jude mentions a hidden switch. Kent then kicks at one of the reliefs before wandering off, helping mostly by virtue of not getting in the way. He positions himself like an overseer, taking his cigar out of his mouth briefly to thump ash onto the ancient floor. "Not how it works, 'Morg.' You need a little primer on th' difference between fire an' lava? Be 'appy to show you, aren't I."

The vein spreads a little more as the Drifters have themselves their fun and he stews in whatever it is he's stewing in. Kent is easy and hard to read at the same time: he's clearly getting irritated, but pinning down exactly why is more elusive.

"Try kicking it," he grumbles when Cassidy starts pushing on something.

DG: Kent Hauch has contributed a Wits Basic Action toward his party's challenge, The Hidden Switch.

DG: The party led by Morgan Newkirk has passed this challenge! The party gained 15 exploration! If anyone needs to use party management commands, do so now. Otherwise, the next round's GM may begin the next round with +dungeon/draw.

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

"Well, you know. Everyone's got their vices."

This is mentioned off-handedly to the words Kent utters around his cold smile, with perfect timing for Cassidy to present that lighter to Jude. The journalist blinks once, before offering the small hint of a smile, leaning in to catch that flame against the tip of his cigarette.

"Saved my life there," he asides to her, easily, as if that light was a life raft.

It's a joking sentiment that lasts as long as it takes for Kent to shoves his way past and look over the door. Jude stumbles just a little in a fluid motion, before looking Kent's way and rubbing the back of his head. "Guess I'm not much of a popular guy in this crowd, huh?" he asks Cassidy, looking truly flummoxed.

Who doesn't love a journalist, after all?

Still -- it's after that that the man turns his attention in earnest to the reliefs. He looks along each one as Cassidy speaks. "Matching puzzle, huh?" he asks, rubbing his neck. "Well... this is going way over my head." A shrug, a puff of twining smoke, and Jude just sets about working, regardless of his words. "Tell me if I'm way off base here, yeah, Cassie?"

Regardless of what he -says-, though, between the two of them, Cassidy and Jude manage to make short work of that puzzle thanks to the invaluable assistance of 'Kent staying the hell out of the way.' The door groans. And just before it starts to lift, Moshe helpfully kicks the side of the wall, in perfect time to that passageway's opening.

"Huh. Would you look at that? Lucky us."

And with that, he'll continue on easily, hands shoving in his pockets as he rolls his cigarette between his lips. "Y'know," he says around that stick of tobacco, "Pretty sure Guardians aren't really anything more than a bunch of earth ghosts at best," he's apparently not sold on this whole 'gods' thing, "but I -am- a little curious to know what's in here that'd make Aveh wanna bomb this place into the earth before letting the Metal Demons get their hands on it." A boom. A rumble.

"... provided we even manage to get that far, anyway." He pauses. And then carries on further in, waving a hand through the air.

"The sea stories can wait, in that case, but I wanna hear all about it. Save it for our victory speech, huh?"

<CARD>

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++<* The Guardian Temple *>++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++<* CHALLENGE - Duplicator-Sealed Door *>++++++++++++++++++++
|Type: Exploration |Dungeon Ability: Brute |Challenge Rating: 1 |
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++< Challenge Information: >+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
You find a large, black stone door that forms a T-intersection with this hallway. While the hallway continues ahead, to whatever awaits, you may find that the door could have something worthwhile. However, you have certainly not found the rare and lost Zeboim-era ARM-keys known as "Duplicators" here. But, the tell-tale blue lines that glow flicker, sometimes.

The door does not have much give, but it has some. With a good enough push (say, with explosives), you might manage to force your way inside. The room is a small storage closet, but it has something valuable: stockpiles of Potion Berries, held within jars that have preserved them.
+Dungeon Conditions: Save Point+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.

"Victory speach, I love it when they stay positive." The fox says with a smirk as he strolls though the newly open door. Trying to hide the fact that he totally jammed his finger trying to find a button. Dammit. That just smarts. Mostly right in the pride. I mean he is a fox. He should be better at this.

"From what I saw outside, Aveh didn't have much of a plan. Mostly 'shoot the biggest guns they had at the Demons'. Which is a plan I'm behind for the most part. Just not when we all happen to be in the way. Maybe they just thought they could hit them hard enough and take most of them out since they were all grooped up like that. Does make a tempting target."

A longer pause.

"I'm just curious to know how they knew they would be here. With enough warning to get three damn battleships in shelling distance. Ain't like those things move fast."

He turns a corner though and stops. Frowning. Sighing slightly.

"Another door. Its always another damn door. And I never stopped to pick up some skeleton keys on my way here."

The door in question is large. Impressive. Embossed with the picture of a large lizard like Guardian. Flickering blue lines marking out the decoration as Morgan puts one hand against it and gives it a push.

"Huh. Enough give fer hope. Could be something nice inside." A wicked grin towards the other scoundrels on this little journey. "Don't suppose any of you have any proper keys left. Preferibily the ones that go boom."

DG: Morgan Newkirk has contributed a Brute Basic Action toward his party's challenge, Duplicator-Sealed Door.

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

Don't even go there, Cassidy Cain.

A brief laugh escapes her, bright and clear in the half-light of their puzzle chamber. "I have tae," she tells Morgan gamely, mischief igniting the gold in her eyes. "I mean, she's got nae legs, someone's got tae pick up the slack."

And when the Fox Man brings up her grudge against things in the deep, she chuffs again. "What did anyone expect, living in utter darkness with nae light, in the god damn cold and with nae any gravity tae speak of," she mutters. "A better breeding ground for monsters has never been more perfectly devised..."

At Jude's perplexed expression after that stumble, Cassidy's eyes hood, head tilted slightly to angle that virid stare up at him. She had seen the man kill six people on top of a speeding train, steal a string of pearls, and leap out of said train before it plummeted hundreds of feet in the air, all while a gaping hole in his side did its best to exsanguinate him with every movement. After everything else since then, she has already managed to convince herself that Jude Moshe, unlike other mortal men, has no blind spot to speak of.

But she says nothing about it, closing her fingers over the precious object, the lighter vanishing once she spreads her fingers open again. Instead, there's a smile and a nonchalant lift of slender shoulders. "I told you before, luv," she tells him. "I never met me a trustworthy journalist. But I'm sure with your charming way with people, you'll turn him around. I have nae anything but the utmost faith."

Kent advises her to kick it. The blonde gives him a glance, but with the hidden switch eventually found and the door kicked open, she wanders out with the rest of them, the cherry ember of her cigarette having reached its halfway mark, smoke escaping her lips as she speaks; she's never been prone to blowing it away.

Jude's and Morgan's remarks about the forces from Aveh outside has her sighing. "S'far as I can tell, the temple surfaced when a bunch of caravans headed out west were on their way, so the appearance is pretty sudden. There were a lot of people around, would nae put it past one or a few tae give them a call and they rushed over and chances are there'd be some on standby anyway considering whatever or whoever's stirring up shite in Aveh. Would explain why the entire bombardment's been sloppy, too."

But when they emerge into a thankfully empty chamber and another door, Cassidy hefts her grenade. "It's my last one," she tells them as a warning, tossing the grenade over to Morgan so he'll do the honors. And unlike the last time she passed on a grenade to him, this one isn't armed. "Use it well, ay?"

DG: Cassidy Cain has used her Tool Heavy Grenade toward her party's challenge, Duplicator-Sealed Door.

<Pose Tracker> Kent Hauch has posed.

Kent Hauch barks a laugh. "You think they considered you 'in the way'? You sorts are always bloody naive." His hand goes into his bag as people start testing the door. "Targets of opportunity, innit. Solve two problems at once, maybe scoop up some stray bounties fer the military coffers. Thass why I crept around on the sidelines. Like I said a'fore: Metal Demons aren't my bloody problem."

With a smooth motion, Kent throws another one of those green bottles at the door. It shatters, splashing the door with that sludgy liquid. Some drops might manage to nick Morgan. The viscous fuel is a mild irritant, but Kent is now standing a good distance away from the door, Red River levelled and a smile on his face.

He pulls the trigger halfway. The gun makes an ominous clicking sound, the hose and chamber building in heat and intensity. A better outcome than simply firing. "Maybe get a little distance. Tipple's feisty."

After people are a 'minimum safe distance' kind of clear, Kent fires. The gun makes a high-pitched whining noise as it fires a tiny speck of matter so hot it hurts to look at and looks more like a white line connecting Kent and the door for an instant. The Ignition Tipple again goes off with a flash and a blast of blue-green flame, the door shuddering and bubbling from the heat and force.

DG: Kent Hauch has contributed a Brute Basic Action toward his party's challenge, Duplicator-Sealed Door.

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

That laugh cuts through the open air of that next room, and while Jude Moshe's attention seems fixated on that oddly-arranged door they come across, it doesn't stop the thoughtful furrow of his brows.

"Man's got a point," he finally says, simply. "All of you gathered up in one nice, neat little place. They could bomb they hell out of this place and pick up the stragglers. Honestly, they couldn't ask for better bait than some mystical legend of the hidden temple."

He looks behind him -- ostensibly towards the outdoors, and rolls his shoulders.

"That bombardment was on-point when they arrived," he says, for someone who absolutely was not in the firefight in any capacity. "Want my opinion? They just bit off more than they could chew, and now everyone's favorite metal monsters are making them pay for it."

For now, though, Jude seems fairly content to just talk as everyone busies with the door. Leaning against one stony wall of the aging chamber, he crosses his arms over his midsection, lifting the right to snag his cigarette and tap ashes out as Kent gets to his gleeful work on prepping that door for devastation.

"That's a Duplicator seal. Some ancient crap," he explains off-handedly, waving his cigarette through the air. "No skeleton key you brought would've worked. The door itself is the lock. A key called a duplicator matches the magical patterns to the door and--"

And then Kent just blasts the thing with a broiling gout of bubbling flame, hauntingly phantasmal in color. Jude blinks, head tilting.

"Orrr you can just melt it. Why not."

And here, he just slowly slides away from the blast radius of the grenade, plus also, all the horrible, raging fire.

DG: Jude Moshe has contributed a Brute Basic Action toward his party's challenge, Duplicator-Sealed Door.

DG: The party led by Morgan Newkirk has passed this challenge! The party gained 20 exploration! If anyone needs to use party management commands, do so now. Otherwise, the next round's GM may begin the next round with +dungeon/draw.

<CARD>

++++++++++++++++++++++++++<* The Guardian Temple *>+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+++++++++++++++++++++<* CHALLENGE - The Shifting Tiles *>+++++++++++++++++++++
|Type: Climax |Dungeon Ability: Agility |Challenge Rating: 2 |
++++++++++++++++++++++++--< Challenge Information: >++++++++++++++++++++++++--
When you enter this room, you are immediately greeted by the sound of rushing sand. A flowing river of the stuff moves through the center of the room, and it moves far too quickly to wade into -- not to mention that no one can be sure how deep it is. However, something else moves through the sand: huge tiles of obsidian, which float across it, and are wide and sturdy enough to hold a person. Crossing will require leaping from tile to tile, even as it moves underfoot, until you get to the other side.

You certainly want to reach the other side. There, a huge doorway awaits. Three relief statues of the Guardians of Water, Fire, and Wind are sculpted around it, beckoning you forth. You suspect few of the other groups of Drifters have found these trial rooms, so deep under the ground.
+Dungeon Conditions: Tire, Injure+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.

Morgan feels around for the right spot as a hand catches up to catch Cassidy's grenade. The weapon is combined with some tape that he pulls out of a pocket. Near where the hienge would be. "There should be..."

Then the bottle shatters against the door and Morgan has the good sense to leap backwards. Trying to shake off the liquid. "Little warning next time, mate." He calls over his shoulder as he quick-steps backwards.

Then the FREEKING LAVA GUN opens up and the door simply melts away. Due to liquid hot mag-ma. The roar of Cassidy's grenade just adds to the carnage as Morgan shields his eyes.

"...that'll work too." He adds as he looks inside the room to see...a Memory Point?

Huh.

"Well thats useful. Might as well take a moment to rest before we go on..." The other side of the room opens into a darker archway.

Seems to be the best way forward.

"I suppose you're right about that though, Jude. I saw Mister Big Blue And Angry At Cassidy tear a Gear apart. I don't reckon it'll be pleasent on those ships of theirs right now."

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

If Kent's or Jude's comments about what is happening outside either perturb her or interest her in any way, she doesn't show it. It could simply be her haste to get out of the temple prompting it, but once the door has been melted and blown open, the blonde is already moving forward, picking her way through the resulting rubble to get to the other side.

And what is waiting for them there is a roaring river of sand.

Like its white-water counterpart in the back ends of the Blue, the dull, echoing sound washes over them, amplified by the natural acoustics available by rock and ancient architectural techniques. The churning grains speedily whip through the vast space between them and the large doorway beckoning at them from across the way, towering close to the ceiling and flanked by other elemental statues. The challenge is nevertheless daunting, because from where they are standing, there is absolutely no way to get across save for the occasional slide of black obsidian platforms moving through the space.

On a normal day, this would be cakewalk for Cassidy; her thievery in its earliest years was more a craft carved out of dexterity and agility, flitting in between buildings at night and nimbly twisting her way through traps and mechanisms meant to capture, maim or kill. That had been when she was seventeen - a whole ten years ago.

Not only is she older now, but she is injured. A hand unconsciously moves up to her front, over the tattered remains of her shirt and the bandages they hide underneath. Lashes close.

"Fook me running," she mutters quietly, just in time to hear Morgan's comments about Siegfried. She doesn't look back at any of them.

"Well, gents, after the lot of you," she says, with a flourishing bow, fingers spread towards the sands, and with all the grace befitting a consummate performer. Her smile betrays nothing.

"I'll catch up."

DG: Cassidy Cain has contributed a Agility Basic Action toward her party's challenge, The Shifting Tiles.

<Pose Tracker> Kent Hauch has posed.

"The warnin'," starts Kent, "was the bloody speech. Iss what Ribaldy calls an 'object example' or summat. Says iss good for teachin'." He waves Red River's gun through the air, cooling the white-hot chamber. While Morgan examines the glowing icon, Kent goes for one of the jars, a bicep bulging as he prises a lid free with some effort.

He frowns skeptically at the jar within, slowly lifting it up to his nose and inhaling, expecting a nightmarish odor. Nope - just the medicinal-cherry smell of a good Potion Berry, if a bit dried.

"Aces," mumbles Kent, shoving a handful into his mouth. There's plenty of jars - already feeling refreshed, he bangs the lid back on and shoves it in his molotov sack, followed by another. There's plenty of room with all the fires he's been setting.

He adjusts his coat. "Meltin' is just nature's openin'," he proclaims with a sneer, continuing on down the hallway behind Cassidy. Kent thinks about it again, than checks himself.

Odd. He hasn't been actively bloodthirsty since Parbody almost pulled his ticket. Must be the stress.

Speaking of stress-- !! In old reflex, Kent grabs for a hat that's no longer on his head, making a downward throwing motion with one burned hand. "Bloody fookin' 'ell! This is why I stay away from these damn places! Slag this! Fookin' sand!"

He and the woman share a moment - one hesitating from injury, the other from being a rectangle with a giant tank on his back. Kent's forehead vein spreads a little more, branching a couple times, touching the back of his head.

But even then, when Cassidy opens her eyes, she might catch Kent looking at her with a narrowed eye. His head tilts slightly, making another note. You don't live as a beating heart of crime without becoming extremely observant. He looks forward and snorts again before pulling the stub of his cigar out of his mouth and throwing it into the sand. It's quickly pulled under.

His thumb moves along the dials. Red River's barrel extends and opens into a wide nozzle, two dividing slats splitting it into three. Something rumbles in the tank. Roaring fit to beat the sound of the sandflow, Kent Hauch flings himself forward onto the first tile, impacting heavily and pointing his ARM down at the sand, firing, waving the gun. Dully glowing lava sprays out wildly, hardening to smoking tephra before too long - he's spraying rocks into the flow, trying to slow it and the obsidian plates down as he charges. For the very brave, some of the tephra even clumps up into bonus platforms.

DG: Kent Hauch has used his Tool Red River toward his party's challenge, The Shifting Tiles.

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

It's a river.

Of sand.

Jude Moshe just stands on the precipice of those sloshing grains, an endless process of eroded minerals eroding more of the rocks around them, further adding to their ever-increasing volume. It's a spectacle to behold.

Which might explain why the redheaded reported just shakes his head in abject defeat.

"Any of you ever notice how similar sand is to water?" he says, appropos of nothing, as he takes one final drag of that cigarette -- letting the nicotine help relax him for the headache that is about to come.

"I feel like I only notice things like that when I'm seeing something that makes no sense in any way, shape or form."

But so it goes. And as Cassidy stands upon the edge leading towards those obsidian platforms, Jude steps up beside her, watching them, and Morgan and Kent, with a critical eye before closing that amber gaze and shaking his head in casual dismay.

"Ah well. Might as well just get it done with, huh? Like a band-aid." He looks aside toward the blonde next to him for a silent moment. Doesn't mention the tatters of her shirt. Or the wounds haphazardly bound up beneath.

He just lifts a hand to rest on her shoulder before he moves past, his other hand lifting to wave as he goes.

"I know you're used to being the hare, Cassie, but take it from me," he begins, casually, before he makes his way to hopping up onto that first platform. Slowly. Deliberately.

"... sometimes it pays to be the tortoise."

And so he'll go, at that calm, steady pace.

To better admire that completely nonsense sand river, obviously.

Or the equal absurdity of Kent just making new platforms wholesale just beyond him.

"Really, I'm starting to see why people here get so up in arms about..."

He doesn't complete the wordplay.

He'll just let it percolate in everyone's imagination.

DG: Jude Moshe has contributed a Agility Basic Action toward his party's challenge, The Shifting Tiles.

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.

"You know," Morgan says over the rushing and roaring river of sand. "This has never made sense to me. Sand just shouldn't work like this. I've seen ships sink in sand here." A pause. "Ships. Sink in sand. It just makes no bloody sense." His arms crossed as he stares judgementally at the river of sand. "...its bloody well not water, dammit."

A glance back towards Cassidy and he flashes her a foxes grin. "Ya know, if'n ya don't follow one of us is just gonna come back and carry ya across. Then you'll never live that down." A pause. "Ever."

Which is true. None of them would let her forget it.

The fox then turs to the river and rolls his right wrist round. His ARM lights up as energy flows into it, spooling out of the palm in a coil of glowing rope. Like some kind of strange lasso.

He flings the line across. It sticks where it impacts the other side. Then sticks the opposite end to the line he was on, giving a stable platform to cross. Adding one more layer of protection ontop of Kent's lava-borne foraging.

Which is really impressive.

Not that he would ever tell him that.

"Just keep walking, Jude."

DG: Morgan Newkirk has used his Tool Force Lash toward his party's challenge, The Shifting Tiles.

DG: The party led by Morgan Newkirk has passed this challenge! The party gained 5 exploration! If anyone needs to use party management commands, do so now. Otherwise, the next round's GM may begin the next round with +dungeon/draw.

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

She would normally rant by now, to those who have been with her in these situations before. Flailing, angry yelling at how ridiculous the graveyards of Filgaia's secrets actually are. The fact that she isn't blowing off steam in this most ridiculous of outcomes is much more telling than anything else she could ever say. Kent Hauch, however, obliges her accidentally by doing the ranting for her, to which she angles him a glance - amusement that she doesn't want to admit to glints at the very corner of her right eye.

And one that dies when she catches him observing her with a narrowed stare. An emphatic brow arches upwards in silent prompting.

But he is off, letting the muscular breadth of him sail just enough meters to land on the nearest obsidian tile. Cassidy inhales deeply of her cigarette, the ember whittling it down close to the filter. A taller shadow crosses her own before a familiar hand rests on her shoulder; she tilts her head sideways to look at Jude.

"I s'pose in the end the only difference is the comfort level," she tells him lightly. "Would rather trod around on wet boots than one filled with sand. Plus can you imagine how annoying it'd be if it gets in your cr-- "

The loud roar of the sand-river drowns out the rest of her statement.

Morgan's warning has her groaning, lifting both hands to shove the Beastman forward. "Ay, ay, I got it. Nae going tae lag behind, believe me. I dinnae exactly want tae stay here longer than I have tae."

Another fable dispensed by the wayward storyteller, she flashes him that same cutting, brilliant smile. "Ay," she says, glancing at the rushing torrents of dust and minerals. "Nae the story that comes tae mind when crossing rivers, though you've probably heard of it. It's one of my favorites."

With Kent and Morgan bringing their own tools to bear, however, she attempts to keep the expression of relief off her features when they make the crossing easier for Jude and herself. She moves steadily, following the flow of lasso and lava as she picks her way across. She's still quick, an old mental exercise ensnaring her, picturing hellhounds nipping at her heels as she traverses the deadly rush of grain and crystal to follow the rest of her group.

There are some close calls, but they all eventually make it to the large doorway.

<CARD>

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++<* The Guardian Temple *>++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+++++++++++++++++++++<* CHALLENGE - The Impossible Task *>++++++++++++++++++++++
|Type: Final |Dungeon Ability: Wits |Challenge Rating: 4 |
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++< Challenge Information: >+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The deepest rooms of the Guardian Temple are also the largest. This cavernous chamber stretches out, and each of the walls has extensive murals painted by hands deft and light -- hands that have produced art so sublime, with such finesse, that one might wonder if human hands could master them. The murals show the Guardians in abstract splendor; without revealing their form, and yet with such care that one cannot doubt the form that they have chosen.

Three tiles, each a gleaming silver, stand in the center of the room. Around them are twenty-four statues on round pedestals. Each shows an abstract concept related to each of the twenty-five Guardians: a sword, a sun dial, a flame, a wave, and so on. As you enter, the three tiles flash.

The ghostly images of three Guardians appear: the enormous, tortoise-like form of Schturkdark, the four-winged dragon form of Moor Gault, and the winged tiger of Fengalon. Each rears up and looks upon you. Schturdark speaks first: "We call upon your wisdom to break the past."

Moor Gault speaks next: "We ask that you show the understanding that ever escaped your ancestors."

Fengalon finishes: "We ask that you show us that you know mankind's place in the cosmos."

They fade away, but a twenty-fifth statue appears on the central tile: one of a featureless, stylized human. It looks almost childish. Each statue can be moved -- including the human statue -- to show where you think you might fit in the cosmos.
+Dungeon Conditions: Stupify, Reckless, Madness+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

<Pose Tracker> Kent Hauch has posed.

Sometimes miracles happen. Sometimes, through sheer irritated cussedness, the flaming boulder that kind of walks like a man manages to hurl himself through the horrible sand river a) successfully at all and b) first. He hits the other side and - without even glancing behind him at the others - marches through the doorway, sticking Red River's gun to its tank, sweeping the still-burning long match from behind his ear. Morgan isn't far behind him.

Jude and Cassidy... well, they'll be alright-tabun.

Kent pulls another handrolled cigar from within his coat, because he can't properly catch his breath without the shitty tobacco that Ribaldy and Samuelh produce for the Ties as a hobby. He's lifting the flame to the cigar when tiles start glowing.

He drops the match completely when the Guardians appear, towering over him. Kent is rarely cowed. He will tell you that he was not cowed here - he was cautious, which is virtuous. Regardless of his spin, he stands transfixed, slowly returning the cigar to its original place.

We call upon your wisdom to break the past.

When they start speaking instead of deploying death fuck beams, Kent turns toward Morgan, gesturing. "Wot?"

We ask that you show the understanding that ever escaped your ancestors.

"Fookin' wot?"

We ask that you show us that you know mankind's place in the cosmos.

The twenty-fifth statue appears. Kent frowns, and then scowls. He steps forward, swinging his arms open wide as the Guardians fade away. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DID THAT MEAN? OI!"

They show no signs of coming back.

Kent Hauch turns and, helpfully, kicks the nearest Guardian statue, sending it sliding a tile's length. He stands there with shoulders bunched, smoldering. He reacts poorly to puzzles.

"Obviously," he yells, "we're on bloody top, innit! Someone help me lift this damn thing!" Kent starts trying to tilt the man statue.

DG: Kent Hauch has contributed a Wits Basic Action toward his party's challenge, The Impossible Task.

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.


Morgan alights on the other side, his boots only lightly scuffing the stone as he skids slightly off the last of the platforms. Also smoking more than a bit considering he was using some of Kent's 'platforms' for purchase.

He glances back towards the other two. Making sure the'll be along and he isn't going to have to go sand swimming to save anyone.

Sand swimming.

THE FACT THAT HE THINKS THAT IS A THING NOW PISSES HIM OFF!!

Shaking it off he turns to figure out just whats in this room. The center of this temple. What the big deal is...

...and...

"Holy shit," His eyes wide. His ears back. As he beholds the appearance of Three. Fucking. Guardians.

Actual Guardians.

That leave criptic as hell messages.

"Why are you looking at me!" He calls back at Kent. "I have no clue! I wasn't even born here!"

He is as clueless as Kent in this sort of thing. Puzzles. Cryptic message. GIANT FREEKING GUARDIANS.

"...alright." He finally decides as he glares at the space where the images were. "They have to be some kind of projection. Someone is totally fuckin' with us!" He shouts at the empty space. "Maybe I don't want to play your games huh! EVER CONSIDER THAT!"

...its easier to think of them as holograms rather than freeking gods.

Because woah man.

I mean woah. Man.

"Urgh, look we have to find the right spot for the statue there has to be a swich or somethin!"

DG: Morgan Newkirk has contributed a Wits Basic Action toward his party's challenge, The Impossible Task.

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

Nae the story that comes tae mind when crossing rivers, though you've probably heard of it. It's one of my favorites.

"I thought you might like that one," Jude affirms, without questing after the explicit name of the fable in question.

"A bad outcome that could've been easily avoided. Probably one of the truer endings I've ever heard in my life."

It takes some doing -- and more than a few times where Jude nearly slips on some strange, invisible chunk of mass that would have otherwise led to a perfect landing in any sane world -- but eventually, both he and Cassidy make their way across. His cigarette is lost by then, cast down to the endless abyss that is the sand's rolling waves (because sand has waves), before his amber stare lifts towards those large doors. He is silent for a moment, before he closes his eyes, and allows himself a rueful smile.

"Like a band-aid," he echoes again, half to himself, before he makes his way towards that door.

And what lies beyond...

That chamber is so large. Ostentatious, some part of him thinks deep down inside. It never reaches that cool expression, however, as his gaze falls upon the statues and tiles beyond. The tiles flash, and before them all -- Guardians. Spectral, but present in as close a manner they have ever been since before history was lost. More than just partial manifestations through Mediums. It's eventful.

It's history.

And all Jude Moshe can do is stare, even as Kent becomes increasingly flummoxed. Even as the Guardians deliver those ever-more perplexing commands, laced in riddles that cannot be solved. His brows furrow inward. This isn't a task to be accomplished.

'It's a joke,' is the sentiment that never quite reaches his lips before his thoughts wash away towards faraway places.

Kent hollars, swinging and scowling and kicking so hard that stone screeches against stone.

Obviously, he yells, we're on bloody top, innit!

And it is a comfortable blankness in Jude's expression that is his sole answer to that proclamation.

It's a veritable clean slate of someone who won't -- can't -- process the enormity, or perhaps the laughable simplicity, of the task so haughtily laid out before them. And it lasts only a handful of milliseconds before the journalist looks away, his hands shoving into his pockets as he just meanders off, casual as can be, to sightsee the architecture.

"Not really my kinda thing," he says off-handedly, waving a hand through the air. "Let me know when you're done, huh?"

Jacob, at least, helps, flitting within the room (did he somehow get there before them?), flying from statue to statue, as if to try to indicate where he thinks they should be moved.

But Jude Moshe doesn't lift a finger to help.

DG: Jude Moshe has used his Tool Jacob toward his party's challenge, The Impossible Task.


<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

For all of her typical jawing about how much she hates exploring the mausoleums of the past, they can sometimes still wow and amaze. The chamber they find themselves in, now, is one of them.

With ceilings that extend and arch so high up that she cannot see their details, what really draws the eye is the configuration in the middle of the room. In spite of herself, Cassidy's breath catches in her throat, as always a helpless slave to her tactile senses; the rushing sands have faded into a dull echo, compared to the eerie, still silence of the present space, the towering monoliths of the Guardians, standing sentinel over whatever ancient oaths they are presently hoarding, the taste of the air - dank and full of must and how it feels against her skin. Goosebumps pebble pale skin luminescent with the moisture of her earlier exertions.

Another challenge to get through lies before them, but for the moment, Cassidy doesn't pay it any heed. Like iron filings to lodestone, she is drawn slowly to the fringes of the Guardians' circle, lifting a hand to touch smooth stone and letting it travel over the cracks, creases and carved indentations that she manages to find with dexterous digits. For a few blessed moments, there are no wisecracks, no quips.

It's like an old, long forgotten church - hauntingly beautiful, and full of ghosts.

Before she can say anything, whether to express awe or something else entirely, some of these ghosts speak. She whips around, with wide green eyes shot with gold, her jaw slackening in a rare look of open shock.

Kent isn't having it, however. He's yelling at the spectres before they vanish.

She reaches up with a hand, scrubbing the side of her face. Anyone would come upon that answer. Once upon a time, that is precisely what she thought...

AQUVY
EIGHT YEARS AGO...

Water rushes over pure white sands and the scent of dried logs burning rouse her from a fitful sleep. Lifting fingers to rub her eyes, she rolls out of her bedroll and sits up. Her slowly-sharpening vision finds a lanky figure hunched over their improvised hearth; dark hair rustles in time with the breeze, dreamy gray eyes tilted upwards.

"Can't sleep?"

He turns his head towards her and smiles. "You know me, Cass," he tells her, gesturing with spindly fingers to the side of his head. "Can't turn it off."

"Yeah?" Cassidy props her chin in her hands. "What are you thinking about now?"

"Oh you know." He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "You, me...Bridge. Our place in the world." After a pause, he inclines his head at her. "Where do you think we stand?"

"Hnh. This for another paper?"

He laughs. "Maybe."

The blonde shrugs, rolling back on her back. Eyes stare up at the endless spray of stars above. "I was taught," she begins, slowly. "That the world was made especially for man."

Her companion smiles. "Yeah, well. You would say that."

Cassidy rolls her head to look at him. "What would you say, Maurie?"

"You sure you want to hear it? It's long."

She laughs, her eyes closing.

"Yeah, well....I don't think that's ever stopped you before."

NOW...

As Kent and Morgan yell at one another and also at the cryptic shades, Cassidy rolls her lighter back into her palm, over and over again, eyes turned inward and distant.

"You both really think it's that easy?" she wonders, finally looking up. Taking her one last cigarette, she slips it between her lips. "That's what any one of us would say."

She tilts her head back and takes a deep inhale of the smoke. "I was told by someone a hundred times more perceptive than I am that if you looked around you, that's nae true. However way you slice it, man's part of a whole. Fook, even the whole god damn planet revolves around the sun...around sommat else. It's just easy tae think we're at the top because we're the only ones capable of recording the narrative."

There's a glance at Jude at that.

"Anyway...that's my two gella. My suggestion is tae leave the center unoccupied."

DG: Cassidy Cain has used her Tool Pocket Lighter toward her party's challenge, The Impossible Task.

DG: Morgan Newkirk is too exhausted to continue!
DG: Cassidy Cain is too exhausted to continue!
DG: Kent Hauch is too exhausted to continue!
DG: Jude Moshe is too exhausted to continue!
DG: The party has failed this challenge! All party members are now Exhausted. This attempt is over.
DG: The party led by Morgan Newkirk has been fully Exhausted by The Guardian Temple!
DG: The party will now draw a conclusion.

<CARD>

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++<* The Guardian Temple *>++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++<* CHALLENGE - The Guardians' Lament *>+++++++++++++++++++++
|Type: Landmark |Dungeon Ability: Conclusion|Challenge Rating: 4 |
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++< Challenge Information: >+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The final statue is moved into place... and then there is a soft hum, before the room grows dimmer.

"Ever has humanity failed us. Ever have they been a disappointment." The voice rings out over all of you, though it is disembodied. "Odoryuk. You have much to answer for."

A second, lighter voice answers the rumbling basso. "Zeldukes! Be at peace. I am disappointed too... and yet look before us. Acknowledge this truth! We have no one else to turn to. None of the other groups have succeeded in our task either!"

The first voice speaks again. "So be it. Know this humans: you are our lament. And yet we share this world. We share its pain... and its future. The Metal Demons seek to shatter our statues -- seek to shatter the binds we have placed upon their goddess. If they do... then all Filgaia shall tremble. You are not who we would seek..."

Odoryuk finishes the thought: "...but you are all we have. Go with our blessing. Save Filgaia from them."

In the center of the room, a collection of stone tablets appears -- one for each of you. The voices fall quiet and still, then.

OOC: You have acquired the Stone Medium for one of the Elemental, Terrestrial, or Celestial Guardians. You can pick which you receive. If your character is not a Zoa Priest or a Shaman, their use of a Medium will be limited. Please refer to recent +bbposts for information. Thank you for playing at Dream Chasers MUSH! +Dungeon Conditions: Bad Luck+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

<Pose Tracker> Kent Hauch has posed.

There is, perhaps, a lot of blame to go around. The four of them don't work well together here. Jude Moshe goes a-wanderin' - he saves his breath, perhaps, but certainly not the task. Morgan ignores the magic of the moment, trying to boil everything down to a simple, basic switch. As for Kent, trying to guide him to shove the statues around properly is like dragging a cow across a field.

Cassidy may well have been right, but before they can be corralled into attempting that solution, the Guardians have had enough. They begin to argue and berate the four of them. Before, Kent was beginning to believe they were simply some kind of illusion.

But this...

"Lament?" Kent says, voice low. It seems the ganger has no desire to brook disrespect even from the gods. Moving slowly, he pulls Red River one more time. The vein on his right temple throbs once, twice...

...and a new one blooms over his left, the veins branching like a web to swarm across the entire back of his head, his skin reddening.

But there's nothing to shoot. Kent just stands there, anger billowing around him with an almost physical force. The metal and plastic of his ARM creaks in his hand. His eyes are unfocused. His left hand reaches up, massaging a spot over his heart. "Nobody fucking talks to me like that anymore," he growls, his exaggerated accent dropped.

Suddenly, he shakes himself. "Bloody gods," he spits, bolting Red River back on. "What have they fookin' done to earn that authority, eh?" He hasn't approached the tablets yet. His right hand curls into a shaking fist, the knuckles white. Kent Hauch is like a barrel of black powder rolling toward a campfire.

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

The Guardians appear again, berating them for the flawed creatures that they are. Cassidy lifts her shoulders in a shrug, drawing another deep inhale from her replenished cigarette. "Nae like a definitive statement like 'you're all we got' tae fill you with the warm and fuzzies," she remarks. "Dinnae ken about you lads, but my self-esteem really felt that needed boost. Through the roof, methinks. Absolutely rocketing across the sky in unbelievable heights." Her tone is as dry and flat as the desert outside.

There's a low, simmering amusement in her expression, and, if one looks closely enough, a very strange, almost out of place glimmer of...

...relief?

But before anyone else can see more, the blonde is already turning away, walking towards the stone tablets left for them in the middle of the room, as always drawn to whatever riches or loot could be waiting after a series of trying ordeals. She crouches on one knee, fingers lightly touching on the symbols found there. Brows knit, sweeping grains of sand aside.

Her vision blurs, and her shoulders sag heavily; she is exhausted and the front of her starts to register those jagged white-hot shards of pain, slowly returning as adrenaline fades and her metabolism steadily burns through the cocktail in her veins. A hand comes up to drag her knuckles across her eyes, before focusing on the symbols she finds again.

"More Guardian symbols," she says, reaching out to try and take one of them...

...but sparks shoot out from her fingers and she drops it with a yelp and a curse, shaking out the pain as a thin wisp of smoke wafts upwards.

"Fookin....god damn...magic-- !"

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.

There is a part of Morgan. A part that wants to just shout at the giant figures arguing over the humans in front of them. A part that wants to deny they are real. To scream that this is just a holographic projection. To blame someone, anyone for the momentous occasion that has happened right here. Right now.

To say that its not actually real.

To deny. Deny. Deny.

But he can't deny. The feeling in the chamber. The fluid arguments of the cyclopian figures. The undenyable personality that those images posessed.

Its hard to say he's not a believer anymore when the Guardians themselves just argued about how bad a job they just did.

Wait...

"Well it wasn't like y'all left gorram directions!" He shouts at the suddenly empty room as fustration bubbles forth. "Ya know." His voice becoming a touch amused. "If we are your last best hope for Filgaia. Then y'all must be really despirte. And despiration don't look good on anyone." A pause. "Just kick us while we're already down why don't ya."

The good advice from Cassidy would likely have been on point if...well...they had actually followed it.

"Gorram gods," He finally finishes his short but sweet tirade as he turns towards the center pylon as he strolls towards the tablets. "...always more Guardian symbols." He mutters as he reaches out...only to stop as one zaps Cassidy.

"...ah hell. Do you have to take the right one for us? Why can't they ever make anything simple!"

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

And so they fail; and Jude just looks expectant about it, as much as he looks lazily resigned to that eventuality, as the Guardians return to critique them for their failings, many and varied as they are.

"Yeah, well," he utters, hands shoving into the pockets of his frock coat,

"... you go looking for failure, you're gonna find it. Could've told you that much."

But then -- maybe that's why they're here, too.

Because in the end, no matter how terribly they might have failed to pass those spirits' (earth ghosts') muster, they ultimately get their reward. Because there's no other choice. Because those grand gods can't do anything for themselves. And that's a simple reality that just draws a smile to Jude's lips that might be bitter if it wasn't so disconnected.

"Not much of a point at getting mad at ghosts, Cassie," he finally says when he decides to break out of his own reverie, turning his attention towards the statues -- and those stone slabs offered up to them on a less-than silver platter. "Plus, we get the consolation prize anyway." His brows furrow, his head tilting. "... Mediums? These things know none of us are shaman, right? You'd expect gods to have some kind of self-awareness."

So they would have given it to them for a reason. However flawed that reason must be. So, as Cassidy advances, as she takes that tablet only to be shocked, Jude steps beside her, watching the smoke from her fingertips with a stare that looks more sympathetic than anything. He crouches down, to pick up the tablet she dropped -- before tapping on another one of those stone slabs. "That one feels like it's got the right kind of ornery ghost in it for you," he asides to her, before pocketing the one he picked up into his frock coat. For safekeeping.

"C'mon," he says to Cassidy and Morgan, nodding his head toward the exit as Jacob flies through. "These things aren't gonna do anything else for us. We need to get out of here before we're buried..."

Amber eyes slide over toward Kent, rampaging and rioting like a powder keg about to burst calamitously.

"... and we should probably give him some breathing room and a safe space to vent his feelings a bit."

Again.

'Before they get buried.'

Or melted.

<Pose Tracker> Kent Hauch has posed.

Kent suddenly spins - away from the group, blessedly, pulling one last molotov from his pack. He kicks the long match underfoot, allowing it to skitter across the floor, and throws the bottle at it. The soaked rag hits the flame and catches - a short time later, the bottle explodes, a pillar of flame rising up.

The leader of the Black Ties takes a second while the others poke and hem at the mediums. His arms go slack as he watches the flame jump and bounce, quickly dying as it consumes the fuel and finds no nourishment in the stone beneath.

He pours it into the fire. The rage at being disrespected, ordered around, treated like a child by greater beings to whom he owes nothing.

Kent Hauch is an orphan. He believes this gives him a special kind of strength - he has no shadows to live in, he tells himself, ignoring that shadow, the one that used to sit atop his head.

When he speaks, the fire guttering, his voice is no longer so tightly controlled, though sweat sheens on his face. He's burned all the wrath away in a cathartic flame. "Oh, stop whinin, you lot." He walks toward the mediums, moving directly toward one of them. "Think about it. Greater powers or whatever, implorin' us. Talkin' big so we don't think about how they can do nuffin', eh?"

He crouches down over the last tablet. "Sounds to me like maybe I am right. You don't go whinin' for help to yer lessers, now." Kent reaches down, his fingers brushing the icon.

When he touches the tablet, the ground beneath them shivers. Faintly, but noticeably. He looks like a fixture rather than a man for that split second, like something impossible to move, but effortlessly threatening.

Something seems to perceptibly move, deep, deep within the earth. The burning blood of the land, pulsing. Kent doesn't seem to have noticed as he lifts the tablet, brushing away at the crude etching of a mountain.

"Dinoginos," he mutters, the name sticking in his mind.


<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

"Nae that," Cassidy tells Morgan, reaching into her back pocket to retrieve her gloves and slipping them on, not looking at him.

After a pause, she speaks up quietly, for only Morgan - and Jude, now that he's shifted closer - to hear, drawn to her side again after possibly shoring himself up for whatever trouble she is causing. "Magic dinnae agree with me, is all."

When her partner does identify what the stone tablets are, honeyed brows furrow at him. "What," she remarks, flatly. "What the bloody hell am I s'posed tae do with a-- "

He taps on a tablet as he picks up the one she's touched. Pressing her smoking fingers to her lips, the taste of ozone tickling her tongue, she grimaces openly. But that doesn't stop her from reaching out and take the one he's indicated, to slip it in the inner pocket of her battered leather jacket. Jude had taken the one she had initially chosen, it seems to make sense to her to take the one he picks for her.

Not that she would know how to use it, but in her life and the way Luck continues to twist her to its whims, there are no such things as coincidences anymore.

As Kent moves to take his own tablet, she flashes him a smirk. "Sure they do. Bosses delegate. You're one of those, ay?"

Before she can say any more, the low rumble reaches her ears and pliant lips tilt downwards in a frown. At Jude's encouragement that they leave, she doesn't tarry, finding her feet, and turning to move after Jacob. As always, no matter her circumstances, she is prone to acting first.

"Well, nae any use tarrying, then. Let's get the bloody hell out of here."

<Pose Tracker> Kent Hauch has posed.

"You're missin' a key difference," says Kent as he rises, slipping the tablet into his coat where it belongs. "Bosses don't implore an' cajole. We just fookin' tell."

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

"Did we even hear the same god damn conversation?" Cassidy wonders at Kent.

"Pretty sure nae any of them said 'please'."

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.

One last tablet remains and Morgan just shakes his head. Mystic mumbo-jumbo isn't for him. It never has been. That was his famlies thing. Never his.

There is a spark though as he swipes the last one. Though its not like the one that hit Cassidy. Its warmer. More pleasent. It doesn't actually hurt the Fox.

Though it does suprise him.

A smirk and a shake of his head as he turns to follow the others.

"I'm pretty sure they didn't use enough cussin' ta make it a proper order." He adds as they all slip out of the chamber.