Tasha's flight west is not without incident. There is a swarm of flying fish creatures to avoid, and a ground battle between undead-looking creatures. Several giant birds also need to be avoided, along with Night Gaunts fresh from some massacre that has left them covered in blood. As the sun sets though, it outlines the silhouette of a city on the edge of a vast sea.
The red woman finds a city illuminated by the sun to be a fitting next waypoint on her journey to find the Phoenix, for what better place to search than where fires comes to rest? She angles that way and, without being accosted or having to avoid some fell predator, she considers her journey thus far. Many things stand out, but one question in particular has been pressing at her mind. "Galatea, what do you think the Whore meant by a secret that would cause all of Dreamlands to hate Kainudy and I? I've only been here once before, and only to Kadath."
"I imagine it has to do you with you instigating it all by releasing the Queen of Demise," Galatea suggests. "The secret she held over Kainudy before that had to do with the dragon war, I think."
"I see. I suppose that would upset everyone, although the truth of it is more complicated than that I 'released' her. Nyarlathotep didn't have to send his avatar, for one. But I understand people can believe what they want," Tasha thinks. She also thinks the town is beautiful illuminated by the sun, here in the war torn places of dream and terrible nightmare. A fantasy, well and true.
The architecture is mixed, seeming to come from all times and cultures. There also a few flying figures, and a large port filled with ships both mundane and fantastic. "It was the Harlot herself who triggered it all by coming to the Halfworld, which drew Nyarlathotep's attention if you ask me," Galatea claims. "I honestly don't care about this place."
"That's a good point. Maybe we can use that against her. Nyarlathotep is unlikely to appreciate being used, so that's another angle. IF he's being used." Tasha is sure to eye those fliers, and the gates, and especially, anything obviously a defense. Rather than enter the city by wings she descends to the ground to walk her way inside, unless a hair of what she can only conceive of as civilized history's span of weapon selection starts firing at her. "I like almost every place. And there is a city of cats. This is also where something significant happened to me. And... it's mysterious."
There's a road, and a gate, and guards. They're tall and hooded, with a narrow visor where their eyes presumably are. The robes completely hide their bodies, and there isn't any sign of weapons. "Hold," one says when she gets close enough. It isn't clear which one of them said it though. "State your purpose for entering Dylath-Leen."
Tasha's used to armored guards, especially armored guards of a certain style, yet she anticipates these are those only as far as the robes extend. She answers truthfully, "I'm here searching for someone. I am not affiliated with any army actively fighting over the Dreamlands."
"You speak true, may you find whom you seek in Dylath-Leen," one of them (both of them?) reply. They don't move or gesture in welcome though. The gate is already open, after all.
Tasha nods to the left one out of respect and habit, and then she's heading inside. She avoided for good reason, an inner urge born from experience and animal instinct. This, she knows, is a place where gods walk and nightmares crawl; the defenses must be of a kind. "Ever been here before, Galatea?"
"No, the Dreamlands are new to me," Galatea admits. "I know only a few things. I know that Nyarlathotep's throne and seat of power is in Kadath. That will be the ultimate goal of the warlords."
The wall is thick, so it's like walking through a short tunnel. But then the city is beyond, the streets bustling. Carpets fly through the air, carrying passengers. Instead of stalls, the streets are lined with actual stores. And beyond is the bay and the port. Even from here, Tasha can see the city forms a crescent along the curve of the bay, with mountains to the north where palaces climb.
"A place we should likely avoid then, unless all other places have been search first. Even together, we would just be a power among many." Tasha passes through the gates, entering for their mutual first time the City of Dylath-Leen, this strange city from so many times. "Well... this is a lot more modern than I expected. Galactic almost, or Gabriel's Terra. It really is a strange mix, isn't it? So much of reality is just one thing, the hard laws of development of the material universes."
"The Dreamlands have been created by persistent dreamers, while it is surrounded by a foam of normal dreams," Galatea recites. She's probably getting information from somewhere. "Even the Harlot was a dreamer that.. moved here? Apparently if a dreamer physically comes here, they can have a sort of immortality."
"So I was immortal for a few hours. Does that count as having achieved eternal life? I need to know for my list." Tasha makes her way down the avenue, not entirely sure where to start. It then occurs to her to look for an information kiosk or other vendor, an idea she finds painfully banal answer, yet tries searching for one anyway.
What she finds is a bookstore, although it also looks like it has scrolls as well. There are what look like newspapers spread across some of the windows, but the language is alien.
"I guess you really haven't been here, I can't read most of this," Tasha admits. She heads on inside, once again at a book store in a strange, far flung place. It makes her wonder if they're all somehow connected; perhaps that old dragon of the sun, and of knowledge, runs a franchise scheme. That would amuse her. "Would you believe this is the second bookstore I've been in walking these realms? The last one had giggly half-dragon girls who thought I was a demon and disappointed when I was not."
"You ARE a demon though," Galatea insists. The shopkeep looks up from his book when Tasha enters. "An exotic," he notes. "Or perhaps a demon? What can I help you with, miss?""
The combination of two people talking to her at once causes Tasha's brain to misfire, because she starts with, "/THAT'S/ not tru-- /HELLO/!" The last coming with a start. "Yes, hello!/ An exotic? Perhaps /not/ a demon! I am looking for a bird. Of fire. I would demonstrate what fire is, but this all looks very flammable. /That is not a threat./" She tries wagging her tail to seem reassuring.
"Hmm," the olive-skinned man says. "There are many birds of fire. Can you be more specific?"
"Yes, as there is only the one," Tasha clarifies. "We'll talk about that later Galatea."
"Do you mean the Phoenix?" the bookseller asks.
"I do mean. The Phoenix." Tasha smiles and knows she's being awkward; Galatea put her off kilter and she's well aware of it. "I mean: yes, the Phoenix. I know it is here, in the Dreamlands. Somewhere."
"You want the Monks of the Celestial Monastery," the man says. "They track the comings and goings of the gods."
"That sounds like an excellent place to start, thank you." Tasha smiles, then she lingers a moment, waiting. Merchant's from across the multiverse tend to have a certain goal, where ever she finds them.
The man looks back to his book, then notices Tasha. "The monastery is carved into the mountain peak," he tells her. "You're new here, aren't you?"
"I was anticipating a request for money or money-like things," Tasha admits, her ears splaying a little. "But, to answer your question, yes. Despite that, I feel as though a mountain will be hard to miss, but not hard to lose. I have seen mountains lost, before. Worlds." Yes, still off, she decides.
"Do you even have money?" the man asks.
"No," Tasha replies, grinning widely and what she hopes isn't entirely self-deprecating.
"You will be expected to bring an offering to the Monks," the man says. "It needn't be coin. But it must be something they will appreciate."
Tasha follows the lead and asks, "And what will they appreciate? Knowledge? Abject violence? A spiraling inferno? Flattering words?" A pause. "Awkward conversation?"
"They follow the gods," the man says. "Divine artifacts, prophecy, communion.. or gold. They still have to eat."
"That does narrow it down quite a lot." Tasha considers; she has a few of the first, if back home, several of the second (if old), communion she may be able to manage somehow, and gold is also back home. Perhaps she could earn some? "Thank you again. Do you need payment? I have found giggily half-dragon girls enjoy books associated with demons."
"I don't employ any giggly half-dragon girls," the man says. "I don't need the services of a succubus either. I don't charge for relaying information that is common knowledge to those living here."
"You're a very kind man. I am not a succubus. I'll leave you in peace, then, and with my thanks." Tasha inclines her head, smiles again, and then turns to depart. "You timed that on purpose."
"You are from outside of this reality," Galatea points out. "That makes you a demon. A dimensional traveler. It makes me a demon as well."
The mountain is at the far end of the crescent, but there's a lot of carpet traffic heading to and from the palaces and estates on the lower slopes of the mountain.
Tasha notes the traffic, assuming much of it is the daily business common to every city: commerce, politics, civilization, culture, and families. And with palaces that means all of that of the rich and powerful, beings she decides she's best off avoiding, not wanting to get wrapped up in local politics unless she must. "I wonder if they know of the fall of the City of Cats yet?"
"They should already be expecting the Harlot's forces to be coming here next," Galatea reasons. "Those that can will have plans to escape to the sea. The bookseller did not seem to be concerned though."
"Perhaps they have a reason to be confident here. We can hope. I don't mind this city." Tasha eyes the fliers; with so much air traffic she may as well fly, especially with a army on the march towards the very location. And while she doesn't expect the army to arrive tonight, she can't rule it out, either. The army of a being like the Harlot may be able to travel instantly, not unlike the Harlot herself.
Once in the sky Tasha tries to respect the traffic laws of the air, needing to be arrested even less than delayed by an army. At least the army may not keep her here.
People on the carpets wave at her. Some of have small dogs that bark. Many of the carpets are laden with crates and obvious supplies of food.
Tasha waves back, awkward as that is while most of her body busies itself with the motion of flight. To think, the Harlot wanted her wings! And all for a compass! "You know how I think many things are attractive, Galatea? I think I found what's the opposite of that: The Harlot. She looks like a corpse had a baby with a creeping willow."
"From the conversation with her, she has many daughters which are likely placed across the Dreamlands as her agents," Galatea points out. "Be wary of friendly women." There are women on the rooftops Tasha passes over, but they don't seem interested in the goings on of those in the sky. Halfway across the city, the monastery on the mountain becomes visible as temple-like structures carved directly into the stone.
"One of my weaknesses. Thank you for reminding me. I wonder what it's like, to have daughters that actually obey you? I can't even get the rest of me to obey me half the time." Tasha continues along her way, wondering which, if any, of these women might be watching and waiting to reveal her location and her intent. Not that her goal is a secret to the Harlot, though she'd prefer her success to be.
The winds higher up are rougher.. as if the mountain peak is fighting her. But not strong enough to actually stop her. It's more that the wind feels alive, somehow. The carvings in the mountain are disturbing, and Tasha recognizes the protective Elder Sign in places, which seems out of place amid the alien looking entities adorning pinnacles and entries.
"Some conflicting symbolism. Neutral ground, maybe. Or a gathering place. I guess we'll find out. Does it feel the the wind is resisting me, Galatea? I wonder if this place is trying to ward me off." Tasha redoubles her effort, she hasn't come this far to be defeated by mere wind, even if that mere wind is alive. She heads in to land.
"The wind may be a god of some kind," Galatea suggests. "The Dreamlanders worship the Great Old Ones and the Outer Gods, like Thotep. There could even cultists of Hastur out there." Once she lands, the wind stops messing with Tasha, leaving behind just an eerie silence.
"Maybe it's just having fun, I suspect a wind god could throw me from this mountain. I tried to fly against a hurricane once and I'm lucky to still be alive -- the wind threw me across the ship in to the rigging and pinned me there like a bug." Tasha shakes out her wings, brushes her hair, then adjusts her clothes. "In we go then. We might lose connection."
"I have your actual body, so I doubt we will lose connection," Galatea says. The biggest opening has the most decoration, so it's probably the main entry into the monastery.
"Don't do anything weird with it." Tasha heads for the big opening, knowing how much people dislike when you enter in to openings they haven't given permission to access. She takes in the grand structure with a traveler's appreciation, knowing she may not return. "It certainly is impressive."
It isn't the first weird entry Tasha's dealt with that has disturbing carvings in the walls. Eventually she comes to a large domed space, and there is a yellow-robed figure in the center. Like the city guards, this one is completely covered save for a dark slit. It watches Tasha but doesn't say anything.
Tasha cocks her head, and stays like that for quite some time until she asks, " ... Hastur?"
"No," the monk says. "I am the Yellow Monk. You are the reverse resurrected."
"Ah." Tasha wasn't sure; Hastur has appeared to her in many guises, and some of those are worn by living, familiar people. She considers the label. "I've not been called that before."
"You were resurrected yet retained your ego," the Monk explains. "Instead of the Universal Soul entering a revived body, your soul was placed into a new body."
"Ah, that. Yes. You're very well informed," Tasha observes, head cocking the other way. "Very well informed indeed. What do you mean by 'Universal Soul', however?"
"A soul without ego, with love for everything and everyone equally," the Monk says. "Something that many Monks strive for."
"A new soul, then? Or do you mean mine?" Tasha doubts they mean her's, though she can't exactly say she hates anything, there are plenty of things she doesn't like, and many more she's put to the sword. "Either way, lucky enough for me, I would not be here."
"You seek the Phoenix, but must make an offering," the Monk says.
"So I've heard," Tasha confirms, nodding. "Do you have something in mind, or should I start guessing?"
"You are a herald," the Monk says. "Of several gods."
"Ah, you need that sort of service. It's been a while, but I can try and assist you." Tasha looks around for a moment, scanning the walls with interest. "Is there a god in particular you're interested in?"
"The one we do not know here," the Monk says.
"So not one of the Great Old Ones or Outer Gods," Galatea suggests.
"Am I to answer riddles, too?" It's not the first time Tasha has had to answers riddles in a temple, either. She wonders when venturing in to, and being part of, old stone temples with dire gods became part of her existence. Amazonia? Or was it later, on that mountain top? "I can think of a few. Charon, Persephone, and Leviathan all qualify to an extent. Kainudy Khryss and Dainarood may also count. Hastur and Nyarlathotep are already here, so is the other Leviathan I presume, not that he's an ally. The Ogdoad are enemies. Nodens is here, I think. Abaddon is unlikely to be here, as is Tisiphone, but their godhood is uncertain. You are not a god. Neither am I. Wolf may be one, but Wolf doesn't recognize worship as worth honoring. Only recognition."
"I can pretend if needed, and Wolf is already here," Galatea says. "Daniarood may respond though. She is a god of the fey, and has no presence here that I know of."
"She may also be very annoyed I called her here, but then again she is worshipped and known many places, so perhaps it's common place." A pause, then Tasha admits. "She told me she's no god, however. Just a being with ages of experience and a superior intellect. I'd also add nigh-infinite patience."
"The definition of a god is a fluid thing," Galatea says. "Beings like Thotep are worshipped for the power he grants, but he does not create anything. By that definition, I am a god because I grant you power."
"And I'm the god of Vasha, Sasha and Sharon because they come from me! And of food, because it fears me." Tasha outwardly continues to examine the walls, hiding her amusement. "And Wolf is here. So. Persephone would not appreciate being called to fix more problems. Charon's too little. Leviathan I don't know. You probably don't want to be asked to do anything, and this is a violent place. But you may be safe because you will offer no help, no direction. You don't lead and you don't intervene. Usually. Dianarood is already acquainted with being worshiped. I don't know how Khyrss feels and I don't want to reinforce his predicament with prayer. But maybe... Maybe that would help. If beings reach out, maybe some day he can reach back. He can help people from his isolation. He won't be as alone. What do you think? It may give us a path to lead him back."
"There is no Khryss, he is only a mask that Null wears, which has a personality and memories and attachments," Galatea warns. "He may manifest when Kainudy is in danger, but that has not been consistent."
"Ah... that's... " Tasha frowns, apparently for no reason, stopping her rotation. "Then I was serving nothingness wearing his mask. Maybe I still am. The nothingness saved us when Kainudy was rampaging, and removed the damage from my soul. But, it had been there before I met Kainudy. Well. It's unfortunate." Her head shakes. "And too risky, if I don't know who I am suggesting. We'll go with Dianarood. Dreams and the fae feel well acquainted enough. Or you. Dianarood already has shrines, however. She does listen, but I feel like she very rarely answers. So she must know how to handle believers."
"I am uncomfortable with Daniarood, but you are welcome to summon her," Galatea says. "If all else fails, you can summon me."
"If she listens. You could also not listen, just to embarrass me." But Tasha finally looks back, stepping forward. "After consideration, I offer Dianarood, Creator of Humanity, and so much else besides. Beloved of the Fae." And inwardly, "Besides she may have some insight on what happened here, and may wish to know about it."
"A god from beyond the Dreamlands, but a creator god," the Yellow Monk says. "There are so few creators. I am eager to meet them." The Monk's voice is a monotone, so eagerness must be internal.
"It does seem to be a unpopular interest for gods, especially here. But this is a land of dreams, and nightmares, so it is ripe with creation. Perhaps creators feel their work is unnecessary here. Perhaps is is the company." Tasha looks around again for a moment. "When you're ready, then."
"I am ready to commune with this new god," the Yellow Monk claims, showing no change is posture or any other sort of movement.
"Well then." Tasha rolls her shoulders and flaps her wings a moment, bracing for what may be an annoyed Dianarood. "I don't have any direct means to access her, do I just call out? Can you contact her?"
"How did you contact her before?" Galatea asks. "I am a monster to her."
"I prayed using one of her shrines," Tasha replies. And, feeling sympathy for Galatea, she adds, "We're all monsters to someone. I don't think you're a monster, but then you think I'm a demon, so I must therefore be worse. Yet, she talks to me. I think she understands the necessities and vicissitudes of life, though perhaps she doesn't appreciate how you were made, she can't fault you for existing."
At the same time Tasha says, "I'll need some water. I can produce the fire myself. I would also ask for a statue of her, but it seems unlikely you know what she looks like. I can describe her, of course."
"Perhaps you can create the shrine," Galatea suggests. "Picture it in your mind, and project it with the projection system."
"Ahh, and some parchment," the red woman adds, in afterthought.
The monk doesn't move, but the requested items are brought.. by giant purple spiders, like the ones the had to flee from after the passage of the angel.
Then Tasha holds her hand out, thought she does nod -- and examine -- the spiders. "Thank you, spiders." Back to the Monk. "I will attempt to create her likeness." And so she does, recalling the statues and, more so, the being herself. "There were a few of them, and I've met her in person. She's hard to forget, there's a ancient feel to her, a sense of familiarity, even though I've never met her. Well, for me. Perhaps for you, too." It's a recent memory and a strong one, this much maligned, hermit creator dragon.
The shrine forms, depicting a tall woman with a dragon coiled around her legs. The spiders pour the water into the shrine, until it fills the basin.
Tasha moves closer to the newly formed shrine and gazes down in to the second bowl. Thanks to Wormwood's instruction, she no longer needs any mnemonic or focal gesture to create basic fire close to herself; anywhere within range of her aura is a potential conflagration with enough concentration and intent. And so the fire appears, sustained not by wood, but by herself. A personal touch. A calling card.
On the paper Tasha writes, "A being known as the Yellow Monk in the City of Dylath-Leen, in the Dreamlands, wishes to meet a foreign god, in return he will tell me where to find the Phoenix. I chose you one of the safest choices, for you have experience and knowledge and worship. This land is also where Kainudy fought Nyarlathotep. Be careful, I may be being watched." And then she sacrifices it.
"So this is the fabled land of the Great Old Ones," the familiar mental voice says, as the golden dragon appears, and begins to make a circuit of the chamber. The spiders flee, and the Yellow Monk finally moves, turning to follow the dragon. "I don't sense them. They are in hiding, awaiting the outcome of the battle between our two proxies."
"It's certainly something, isn't it, Dianarood? The land of Dreamers and Dreams; the Dreamlands." Tasha did summon the normally reserved and withdrawn being, so she bows with proper respect, even if she belives it's not needed. She then sits where she is, maintaining her fire, legs crossed. "Two proxies, Dianarood?"
"I created Kainudy," Daniarood notes. "She will defeat the avatar of Thotep." She seems to be looking beyond the stone of the chamber. "Such a chaotic realm this is."
"Are you the god of anything specific?" the Yellow Monk asks.
Daniarood turns her attention onto the Monk, but doesn't respond. Eventually she looks to Tasha. "The Phoenix is nesting atop Mount Cthon, on the Moon."
"Our... Ahh, Nyarlathotep. I thought you had two, or... Nevermind me. My question is in error." Tasha turns to look in the same direction, wondering if her senses will stretch so far. It gives her an idea, perhaps she might sense the heat and the fire in all, beyond the reach and the range of her eyes. "It is chaotic. There is mystery and adventure here, and of course danger. I find it enticing, but also distracting. I want to visit its every place; perhaps some day."
At the direct answer, Tasha's eyes widen. "The moon. Mount Cthon. I suppose I will head there, if head there I can. I have never flown so directly to a moon without aid, but this is not a place where such laws might restrain me. If not, I will find a way."
"The Moon Beasts and the men of Leng can transport you," the Monk speaks. "There are sky ships in the port that do trade with the Moon as well." There's a grinding sound, as Daniarood's image forms on the wall, pushing aside two other gods.
Tasha watches the image form for a moment, finding it inwardly amusing Kainudy's creator pushes around other gods. It makes her proud in a way she can't quite grasp. "Then I will seek them in turn until one suits." She looks back, then tilts her head. "She thinks you think her a monster. But you know that. Any kind words for the lost?"
"A doll of a doll with no purpose or identity," Daniarood says. "She should become a monk, or destroy a world."
"A little personality, is it? Take a chance. See the world?" Tasha tilts her head back and forth. "Regrets for fun rather than sorrow. But dolls can inspire wonder, and they can inspire love. If a doll, a holder. If the doll would be more, becomes the holder, hold itself and dream." She arches her brows; did she get it right?
"Dolls are meant to be played with," Daniarood says. "This realm is interesting. And now I have access, should I want it. Good luck in your quest." And then the dragon is gone.
Even though the dragon is gone, Tasha still bids, "Good bye for now, Dianarood," and inclines her head to the statue. She then releases her feeding of the fire and so it vanishes in turn. After, she looks to the Monk. "You're satisfied, then?"
"We communed," the Yellow Monk says.
"The silence. I understand." Tasha begins to rise. "And I have my answer, and won't press the knowing of where it came from. I am satisfied." Once up she stretches, flicks her wings, and bows, though not as deep. "I'll be off then, unless there's more to say?"
"Do you seek other gods?" the Yellow Monk asks.
"I have my hands full with the ones I already know. But if I do, and I have not met them myself, I will return here." A nod. "Good day to you, Monk. Ah, and allow me to warn you: The City of Cats has fallen. The army of the Harlot comes for this one next."
"She will find nothing that she seeks here," the Monk claims.
"Indeed," goes Tasha, who thinks she understands what the Monk is getting at -- a useful piece of information. "If I may ask, what are the 'Lost Souls'?"
"Those who have grown tired of the burdens of life, of pain or of loss," the Monk explains.
"Ahh, I think I know the type." Another pause. "Yes, I think I do." She then bows her head once more. "Thank you for your assistance, I will now be going." And so she turns to leave knowing she'll soon be facing her very own Lost Soul and her reaction to drawing attention to her. Offended or not, at least she got an answer, and a kind one, even if Galatea doesn't understand the kindness.