Once again, the Dark Horse is pulled into the vast, impossible castle that serves as Thotep's possibly voluntary prison. Samael stands on the bridge with the others, but does not comment. He's been silent since they returned to normal space, in fact.

Tasha turns to glance at the demon out of the corner of her eyes. "Somehow, I don't think so," she murmurs, studying her reflection in demonic and masculine black. "I think his form is just a projection in to our universe. Even if he's fully here, that's not what he really is. It will be interesting to see if he asks for one, though." Her gaze flicks back to Katherine and she tilts her head. "He's been awfully quiet since we left Prax. I don't know why, but I think something must be bothering him, but to guess what I'd need to know what he values."

"Well, he's creepy, just standing there like Banquo's ghost," Katherine notes. "I don't like that Hakeber doesn't scare him, either. She scared Urgo-hem."

"Bango's ghost?" Tasha asks, now wondering if she'd somehow missed an actual ghost on Abaddon. They're rare on that world, after all. Her ears go up, but she doesn't press it; the matter of the demon takes precedence. "As for not being scared, Samael is a different alignment of Outer being. Urgo-hem is a servant-construct to the Ogdoad, of Order. Katha-hem is also a servant-construct of the Ogdoad. Order again. Katha-hem may outrank Urgo-hem, he may have special knowledge of the weaknesses of his kind, or their connection to Order is more than just a choice of politics and that can kind. Samael is a servant-construct to Thotep, who is of Chaos."

"It's just an expression, referring to an ancient play that everyone is forced to read in school," Katherine explains. "You're taking that dark Marker with you too, right?"

Once again Tasha is glad she's out here rather than still wedged behind an uncomfortable desk listening to someone rattle on, though that glad feeling is diminished significantly by the fact she'll need to go and speak to a horrible elder being in short order. I wonder what my teachers would think of me now, where I've gone and what I've done? She doubts the Silent-Ones would approve, but she's known them to be more proud than practical as often as not.

"I am," she answers, nodding a little. "That promise I have to fulfill. I, well, I don't know what will come of it, though, sooo ... " Tasha chews her lip a moment, looking around, then up. "You know, um, Katie -- Katherine -- I'll do my best but, um. Well, what I mean is ... I hope you won't be mad if I'm, uh ... late, again."

"From here we're supposed to kill a living star that can scramble the ship's controls," Katie points out. "I can handle a slight delay. But I will come after you if you're gone too long, and I won't be alone."

"Yeah, um, maybe you ... You shouldn't." Tasha tries to steady her breathm but after what happened in the space above that sad, lost world they left behind, she finds the reminder of their fragility increasingly painful. If not for Samael, if not for Hastur, if not ... what could she have done? What could they have done?

The reminder of the limits of mortality rests in paint in her office, half finished. She might have gotten farther, if not for the reminder it brings. "I'm the one with the deals, you know? I'll find a way, and if they're just looking at me, they might not notice if you go."

"We can't leave here under our own power," Katie reminds Tasha. "Thotep can control the Horse, remember?"

"But I can probably convince them. Maybe. Um." The red woman sniffs sharply, but then she drops her gaze and pushes on a smile. "Oh, well, it'll probably be fine, right? I do these sorts of things all the time."

"When you keep winning at a game, it usually means you're being set up to get taken for everything you're worth," Aaron glooms. "But.. you do keep switching dealers.. so there's that!" he adds, a bit more hopefully.

Samael suddenly moves.. by walking towards the back of the bridge to the main corridor, which eventually (after a detour around the Horse's stable) ends up in the hangar.

"It helps they're all playing against each other, too. Each one sees me as a card against the others," Tasha tells Aaron as she turns to face him. "Aren't you glad you're in my deck again?" She grins a little more, lopsidedly, which almost immediately collapses when Samael suddenly starts moving like a robot with orders.

"I-I better go," Tasha stumbles, caugh off guard by the sudden and purposeful movement of the demon, points at the man-like entity before hurrying after him.

Samael stops at the elevator, rather than going left or right. "Is the Sign in your office still?" he asks once Tasha catches up.

"Wow, slow down, I can't understand you when you talk so much," Tasha jabs as she slows to a halt beside the elevator. She looks up, following the shaft in to the upper decks. "The Marker should still be there, unless it decided to move on its own. My office has been locked to everyone, including Gabriel."

"I'll come with you to retrieve it then," Sam says. "You will be the one who offers it to Thotep, won't you?"

"I did say I'd deliver it," Tasha confirms, though she sounds uneasy. She leans over and taps the call button, then steps inside when the doors open, turning to Samael. "Why, what's got you so talkative all of a sudden? What happened to you back there?"

"This place makes me uncomfortable," Samael replies as he steps into the lift with Tasha. "The motif is disturbing."

"Haven't you been here before, though?" The ride is short and the elevator fast. There's little time for more than a few words before the elevator opens again. Tasha leads Samael out, rounding the corner and approaching the double sliding doors that lead in to her personal area of the ship. "Or do you mena it's always been disturbing?" A pause, then she dares to ask, "The walls ... They're not just statues, are they?"

"No, they are not," Samael confirms. "I do not know if they still have awareness of their condition, however. I choose to believe that they do not."

Tasha shudders, Even having guessed the truth the second she stepped in to the strange citadel, she'd tuned out the implications as being something beyond her control and her duty. She's already fighting enough gods, doing too much that should be unthinkable for a mortal woman from the back end of nowhere, she couldn't add a campaign against Thotep. Not when they needed his help, and back then she still had some faith Horus would try to help her, however grudgingly. That he wouldn't set her up to fall for his own petty reasons.

And what's more, Tasha's beginning to think all the god-like beings have something like this place, somewhere. The scope of the misery is too much for her mind to hold, so like Samael she tuned it out, did what she could, for what she is after. But there'd been aother question in all that, too, landing smack in the middle of all her plans.

"Is ... is that what Thotep wants from me, too?" Like with all gods, Tasha has always feared what they ultimately want of her, what they would do when they were done with her. Aaron realized another benefit of switching dealers, even if he didn't speak it: It keeps her from ceasing to be useful, where she might be better off as an ornament in a god's collection than as a dynamic, free being.

"Only if you become one of his worshipers," Samael warns. "That's why this place can hold him - it's made out of those who followed him. The worshipers are always the weak spot of any deity."

Tasha frowns at that. She'd not considered worshipping Thotep, no more than she considered worshipping Horus. Atum was a big different, but then she thought he was something he wasn't, and that ended that. The Waymakers, despite all their advancement and greatness, were out as well. If she really thinks on it, she doesn't think she ever wanted to worship any of them. Not after Abaddon, anyway, when she learned her path was different.

After a quiet moment of soul-searching, Tasha shakes her head even as she punches in the code for her door lock.No, no I don't think I wanted that. I think he's interesting, and I like -- liked -- how familiar he could seem, but I never really trusted him. And, well, the citadel is kind of a screaming 'don't trust this guy' warning. But it's not like I have a lot of options, and I'm used to gods with strange natures." The code is just one part, the room is guarded by the Niss and the construction of the interior itself, making punching in the code more symbolic than strictly necessary.

The dark Marker is still where she left it, it's twisted yellow symbol glowing balefully.

"Well, there it is." The young woman gestures at the strange calling card with a wave of her hand. She's about to say more, but then blinks at the suggestion, turning around to face Samael, brow furrowing. "You mean ... like you are?"

"Well, maybe like I am," Samael says. "You'd need to die first, of course. Flesh really is a hindrance in this line of work."

"I usually try to avoid that." Usually. The young woman frowns a little, studying Samael with a new level of interest, but then she turns back to the Marker and clucks her tongue. "Is that what this is about? Or is this more your idea?"

"I have no idea what Hastur's message contains, nor what Thotep wants with me," Samael claims.

"So the idea is yours ... " Tasha steps over to the Marker, dropping her gaze to frown at it. "I had thought 'deliver a business card' was a small price to pay for saving us all, for destroying Prax and saving us the work, and for untwining the worldlines. I always thought that maybe some day, some day there'd be a price to pay I couldn't avoid." She reaches for the artifact, yet hesitates. She thinks on all that could happen in a few hours, that has happened, and forces her hand closer until she runs it along the surface of the twisted, dark space. Whatever happens, she thinks she should face it bravely, and hesitating before a artifact is hardly fitting. "I won't say the idea of immortality doesn't appeal to me. Have you ever seen what it's like to die? Die as a mortal, not as what you are. The sense of loss. The crushing despair?"

"Being stuck in a coffin for several million years and not really dying?" Samael offers. "I'm not immortal, I'm unmortal. I have no soul, and never did. You have one to lose, and that would be the price. Would it allow you to be more effective? I don't know. Would you be a slave? Essentially, but you might not realize it. The same could probably be applied to Horus and the Progenitors."

"Sounds like a bad deal," Tasha admits, head shaking. She drops down to sit on her desk, right beside the Marker, resting a hand on it. "Live forever but lose yourself. But, you know, I don't need Thotep. I did need Hastur, but we were desperate and knowing there are limits to what you can do is part of being mortal, so I made the best choice I could for the people I love. Still, the universe is vast, and there's more than just this one. Maybe there are an infinity of them, options. I've seen enough to know there are other ways to transcend, I don't need to accept any offer from any Old Goat. Hastur seemed to know that."

"He did give the Marker to you and not to me," Samael points out. "So it signifies that it is your choice to deliver it, whether out of fear, gratitude or some sense of obligation. These are things that beings like me do not naturally possess, unless such things are necessary to meet a specific goal."

"Is that what it means to be without a soul? That sounds more like being without other things than a soul, which as far as I can tell is your life-record across time and space -- in all the times and spaces you have been. You might even be able to copy souls." Tasha thinks to wonder what that line of reasoning would get in a Silent-One's congregation, or for that matter many of the religious congregations she's met in her travels. So many of them speak of the soul, and of paradises for the faithful and pure -- in whatever manner that purity is measured in. Yet all of them are also vague, speaking of nebulous deities and ill-definied paradises whose rules are not explained. She thinks for so many mortals, uncertainty and faith that uncertainty will be addressed in some manner that meets all their expectations is key. A problem for her, since not only does she want to know the truth, she has gained some measure of it. "But I'll deliver it. Saving my friends and family is worth a bit of honor and re

"I do not have a past and future in the same sense that you do," Samael notes. He then steps aside, and gestures for Tasha to lead the way.

"I guess you really don't have a soul, then. That must be it. You're removed from the normal flow of mortality, the physical world, to be something that can float in and outside of it. Like He-Who-Moves, when you go the universe doesn't remember you." The artifact is scooped up, then slid under Tasha's arm. She turns and heads towards the door, and from there, the art elevator. "Come on."

Once in the hangar, Gabriel is there to help Tasha get into her armor. "You aren't carrying that thing inside of Melchior I hope?" Gabriel asks, indicating the Marker. "No telling how it might interact with the other one."

"Yeah," grunts Tasha, who sounds as distracted as her distant gaze suggests. She holds her arms out nad legs spread, waiting as the armor closes around her, thinking on what to say and do, and ultimately realizing it won't go the way she expects anyway. For that metter, she doesn't even know what to expect.

"Are you going to carry Sam in your other hand?" Gabriel asks, trying to break Tasha out of her semi-trance.

Tasha blinks a little, so the effort seems to work partually. She continues to stare ahead, through bulkheads and Hammer-metal in to her own mind. "Sam in one hand, the Marker in the other." That seems like it's all she's going to say when she adds, "I can always throw him at Thotep if things look bad." The corner of her muzzle quirks up in an almost invisible grin.

"Hold the Marker in your right hand," Gabriel suggests. "The demon in your left. That's the 'sinister' hand, according to ancient tradition."

"I can't throw as hard with my left." Another joke, though her near-monotone undercuts it somewhat. She does, however, nod. Slightly. "Hey Gabriel, you'll get everyone out of here if things go badly, right?"

"I'll have to depend on the Niss," Gabriel says honestly. "But, we've got the shuttles. We can get away from the castle at least."

"Have the Niss try to shield Tatha-hem from the music. Use the Hammer-metal. If she can't hear it, He can't control her. It will be more than music, but if you can find a way ... " It's a longshot and Tasha knows it, but it's better than nothing. Perhaps she can do something to stop the music if she's still able to act, if things go wrong. "I love you. You know that, don't you?"

"I will be cross if you don't return," Gabriel says, someone sternly. "You did what Thotep asked, so he has to keep his side of the bargain."

"I'll do my best." Tasha lifts an armored hand, then turns to salute Gabriel properly. "Thotep is bound by rules, but I don't know his limits outside his agreements. Hastur has his own reasons. They're both using me, I'll try and stay useful." The hand falls, then she steps forward for a hug.

Tasha hugs back, just as careful. She then steps away and smiles, not wanting Gabriel to see her depart with anything less than a happy face.

With all said and done, the hybrid woman turns and thumbs back towards her Titan. "Samael! Head towards the left hand. I'm dropping the Marker to the right. Once I'm in, we're heading out."

Cathedral of Flesh
Millions of tormented black forms fuse together to form the walls of this hemispherical chamber, rising up to something like a cross between a starfish and an octopus that crowns the dome. In the center, the bodies form a mound, and atop this a throne. Thotep, an alleged Outer God sits upon it, a giant with the head of a ram (albeit with four glowing red eyes), a scaled draconic looking torso and the shaggy lower half of a hoofed beast. In one set of talons he clutches a Pan flute.

Melchior drifts to the floor, where gravity grips the Titan. Thotep leans forward, one arm propped on the arm of his throne so that he can stroke his beard. The hair doesn't seem to actually be hair, but may be black tentacles.. which would imply that his entire lower half is covered in the things. "Welcome back, Tasha the Avenger," Thotep says. "You have brought my servant as requested."

"Yes, here is your Servitor." The Titan speaks for Tasha, who rests comfortably if not easily in the cockpit of the great Titan. She had never imagined, so many months ago, that she could feel anything but safe in the great machine. Yet here before Thotep, Outer God, all she feels seems like so much nothing before the gaze and power of beings of incomprehensible power and reach. "And also I have brough this."

Here we go. Inside the cockpit, Tasha inhales as her machine steps forward. "For another." The left hand begins to open, claws uncoiling. "For you."

"Bring it closer, and explain the circumstance which has placed it into your hand," Thotep requests.

Tasha didn't really expect the Marker might explode, or perhaps something equally as immediately fatal to her circumstances, but she finds herself surprisingly relieved as the Marker remains inert on first reveal. Still, she tamps down on any true relief, knowing things have just begun here. She must get closer, for one, and explain, for two. She isn't sure which is more dangerous, which gnaws at what little relief she had gained.

As the machine walks forward, maintaining a steady pace, Tasha elaborates in her mind, becoming the words of her machine. "After departing the world of Praxafalopus we lingered in local space, where we were attacked. Your Servitor believes the attack was caused by Fessus, perhaps at the direction of Leviathan, using T'throgga's quality of Weaving. Our worldlines were rewoven, which your Servitor informed us of. We they dove through the well opposite of the Temple City, which is the body of T'throgga, encountering Hastur in His world of Carcosa beyond. Using His assistance, I was able to unstick my crew and ship from twisted time and twisted worldlines. In return, Hastur asked me toaccept his influence and deliver you this Marker." 'Then you will accept my influence as well, deliver this ...' She doesn't think she'll ever forget the words.

"Influence," Thotep says. "Hastur's Yellow Sign is his influence. And that is the message as well. The Sign will remain with you."

Tasha frowns in her command chair, not quite certain what the explaination portends. If it's only meant to mark her, when why tell Thotep? Could it be something as petty as bragging, or something more? Much more? She doesn't know, so she asks. "Lord Hastur asked me to inform you I carry His influence? He wanted you to be aware of it? Will you tell me why?"

"It means you cannot accept another's influence," Thotep says. "Including my own. A petty rivalry, of no lasting concern. Hastur has reserved the right to have you perform a service for him, at his discretion. Think of it as an.. I.O.U. from you to him. Our own business is soon to be concluded."

"I see." It comes as another surprise to Tasha that she's relieved to hear that. Perhaps Hastur has shielded her from Thotep just to one up Him, which in a way is something she can understand. Thotep's plan was set, and Hastur sees a special chance to interupt things to His own benefit. It's only to what extent that benefit reaches, that remains -- and will remain -- a concern up until the debt is paid in full. "Well, then. I'll see to that later, I guess." And so the machine begins to withdraw, moving to return to where it had stood. "My side of the bargain is complete, isn't it? You'll keep yours."

Thotep holds his hand out. "Samael, return to me," he commands, instead of replying to Tasha, and Samael flies from Melchior's hand to Thotep's. And Thotep promptly bites off Samael's head. He even chews.

Tasha grimaces. Whatever Samael was, had been, she thinks she must have liked him. Despite the threats, she had never wanted him to die. The threats were just that, threats for actions prohibited, no more dangerous to Samael than to Lacci. Lines drawn, limits placed, things she won't allow to be threatened. And that was all.

As the chewing goes on, the young woman shifts in her chair and grits her teeth, sure that Thotep has performed this display for her and resenting him for it. It isn't even that Samael looked like her -- she's seen herself die enough times to not be shocked by it -- but that she had in some fashion enjoyed having the demonic being around. He once asked about that, and even now she isn't exactly sure why. And now, she may never know.

The process continues, grinding itelf in to Tasha's eyes and in to her memories. Her ears flatten, she exhales in disgust and discomfort. He didn't have to return, she tells herself. My agreement was ... Her brows narrow. Why not just say it?

"I brought him back, I never said he had to return to you. Maybe I planned to keep him, or maybe he could have gone off where ever he wanted to." Tasha thinks it's probably all too late now, but at least she can say the words. The plan didn't work as she'd hoped, but maybe she can stir something from the ashes, and laying in to Thotep a little might at least ease her building fury. And if she's gone this far, well, why not a little farther. "Samael, Pharol Xexanoth the Servitor, return to me."

Thotep keeps chewing for a bit, and then finally spits out a blob onto Samael's body, which then reforms into a head. "The Forms of Eibon have been encoded," Thotep remarks. "Samael completes the Dagger of Eibon. Do not presume to control my Servitor because you know his name. This is what you asked me for." Apparently none the worse for the experience, Samael flies back to Melchior.

"We petty mortals are prone to misunderstandings." It was worth a shot, Tasha decides, shifting uncomfortable. She might be shaking after all this is over, but she can at least rest assured she now has a story to tell Kaa that he won't be able to top -- the time when she tried to steal from a god. Not steal, she corrects herself. It had all been within the agreement, and Thotep didn't warn her, so she can't be expected to know. It sounds vaguely convincing to her, at least, even if it felt like dancing on daggers. "Thank you for keeping your bargain."

"Thanks are for those who keep their word only as a courtesy," Thotep claims. "I do not do this as a courtesy. It was agreed upon. Those are the rules, and they are not to be broken. Even by mortals."

"Do you think I have broken my agreement?" Tasha asks, shifting her head to rest on a hand. "Return my servitor to me. Besides, they are your rules, not that I would break them." Not lightly, anyway. The hybrid woman has long known she'd throw honor and agreement out the window, courtesy too, if it meant preserving what matters most to her. The rest, she decides, is consequence.

"You have not broken the agreement," Thotep says. "That is what Fessus and Leviathan attempted to trick you into doing."

"And they failed, so is there a punishment for them? Or did Hastur already handle that?" Tasha asks, brows arching. "Would my, our, sexes changing really have disrupted the agreement that much? I do remember, and I had planned to return, Tasha or Sasha."

"Your soul would not have been the same, thus you would not be the same person who made the agreement," Thotep says. "I therefore could not conclude my part in it."

That's an interesting trick, Tasha decides, ferreting away that escape from the rules for future use. It's no meager bargain, but it could be the difference between survival and death -- or something much worse than death. "I see. Leviathan is concerned with the Dagger of Eibon being complete, then. Should I assume Leviathan is now my enemy, as well? Or is it just you He hoped to cheat?"

"Leviathan is my nemesis," Thotep claims. "And you have set yourself to oppose the Order of the Ogdoad. Leviathan's Order is different, but Order is still Order."

Tasha drops back in to her chair. So, one more divinity or near-divinity or demon lord or what-ever-it-might-be is now her enemy. She counts off mentally, the tally now being most of the Ogdru-hem, the Ogdoad, and now Leviathan. That doesn't even include the quasi-divine and mortal powers. She's come a long way from fist fights in the alley behind The Fallen Friend. "I'm not sure when I started opposing Order. That's big Order, capital O Order, our ... I guess alliance was out of convienence. Still, I don't like having my ship and my people attacked, and He may do so again if He can, so I guess I'm now at war with Leviathan. I'm sure you're thrilled." Her head shakes. She once heard something about the enemy of her enemy, but this feels less comfortable than that sentiment seemed to imply. "Any advice?"

"Leviathan should not try to destroy you," Thotep notes. "It is unlikely that the Ogdru-hem would call upon Leviathan for aid against you. It is not healthy to dwell on existential threats that may never come to pass."

"It's less about dwelling than it is about not understanding. Not all of us are blessed, or cursed, with seeing so far and knowing so much." Tasha shifts back to propping her head on a hand, this time the Karnor one. Not knowing really is a terrible problem for her, unable to gauge the interest and limits of being so far beyond her she might as well be a creen squeaking at a Waybuilder. Yet if she doesn't squeak she can only be silent, so squeak she does. "I'll leave Leviathan alone, then. Well." She perks her ears, brows raising. "I think that's everything?"

"Everything is everything, but this bargain is concluded," Thotep replies. "You may leave at your discretion."

Tasha takes a moment to look around once more, wondering if she'll ever return to this awful place. Never coming back would be nice, but she knows her life well enough to not count on it. With her potentially last look complete, she turns to incline her head, and thus the head of her Titan, to Thotep.

At the end of the long corridor is the Dark Horse, floating in place. The plasma ring looks different now, however: instead of being a somewhat oval ring, it looks more like a chain now.

That's ... different, Tasha observes, having neither insight nor certainty about what this new form of ring entails. She certainly isn't crazy about the imagery, however, wondering if this is another symbolic reminder. Whatever the case may be, she can at least feel confident it contributes somehow to the Dark Horse's functionality as an anti-Ogdru-hem weapon. "Dark Horse, this is Tasha. We're returning. I see you have some new lights to show us the way."

"Still using our regular lights, Tasha," Moka replies. "What are you seeing?"

"The plasma ring has changed shape, from a circle to what I can best describe as a chain -- interlocking ovals." Tasha has her Titan push off, soon they're drifting across chasm in freefall angled towards the aft hangar. She's gotten much better at subtle manuvers like this, using a slight amount of machine power for great effect.

"We see it on the periscope now," Moka reports. "Not seeing anything different in terms of function.. but we never actually knew what it was for in the first place."

Having nothing to contribute, Tasha reclines in her command chair and blows an exhale out, her cheeks puffing with the force of the motion. She sinks lower, finally feeling the weight of everything that's happened now that one of the major obligations has concluded. And this is just a side deal, but at least now we can fight. Or so she hopes. "Alright, Horse. We'll be touching down momentarily, Tasha out."