While escorting Snowcora back to the Temple of Inala in the morning, Cyprian is his usual reserved and mysterious self again, in case anyone should recognize him. As before, he actually carries the cloaked human girl to the base of the Pilgrim's Stair to save her feet from the less than well-kept roadway. Once at the Temple, however, he risks a smile, and says, "Once Mage Rostre has some conclusions from her experiments, I will return to tell you about them."
"You should also be prepared to have the Barsunala visit given the Mage's interest in his input. When I cannot say; it will depend on when I talk to him and when he can stop by. He will appreciate it if people to not try to shoot him; it puts him in a bad mood," Snowcora notes.
"We do our best not to shoot people," Cyprian promises. "It makes it harder to get paid if you do that."
Snowcora laughs. "Have you actually met him before? He is a bit odd," she notes.
"I've met some of the Kindly Ones," Cyprian notes. "It's the normal people you have to worry about. The odd ones fit in better. You've met my coworkers, after all."
"He isn't much like the Kindly Ones," Snowcora notes, "He's more ... well, he has a flare for the dramatic and an odd sense of humor."
Cyprian looks down at Snowcora for a moment longer, and asks, "And you are sure he isn't a mage?"
"Not officially," Snowcora notes and raises a finger. "Anyway, I will also request of him that he behave. Thank you for the escort back to the mountain. While people probably will not attack me, it is nice to not worry."
"It wouldn't be proper to just turn you out to make it on your own," Cyprian claims. "I do hope to see you again, Shrine Maiden." The tall Eeee bows formally.
Snowcora returns the bow. "I am sure I will be around. I cross paths with many, and now and then even some I wish to," she says as she rises. "Be well."
The mage makes his way back to the stairs. It's only after he's out of earshot that Tulani makes her appearance. "I was beginning to worry," the Sphynx notes. "You were gone overnight."
Snowcora waves her hand. "They wanted to run various tests, then it was late and they did not wish me to travel when it could be dangerous," she notes. "You worried more about that than when I am stuck at the Temple of Gorphat?"
"You run the Temple of Gorphat," Tulani points out. "You don't run the Mage's Guild. They didn't poke you did they?"
"They didn't poke me significantly," Snowcora claims. How they did poke her, well, she leaves that part out.
"Well then.. need any rest, or ready to go see someplace really weird?" Tulani asks. "I know traveling during the day is risky, but once we're past the mountains nobody will see us.. and I'd rather get there before dark."
"Hey, it could be really impressive after dark, you know," Snowcora says with a smirk. "Do I need to speak with Mave before we go ... or should we go before she finds ways to waste time?"
"She'd probably tie you down for some sex ritual," Tulani admits. "But since we need to fly for distance, you'll want a dragon body I think - unless you picked up a Vartan already? I mean... you could go as me, which would be weird.."
"I could go as you, and make out with you, as you," Snowcora says and waggles her brow.
"See? That's the weird part," Tulani says, closing one eye to glare with the other and waggle a finger at Snowcora. "Now, if you go as a nice scaly dragon.. we'd have to pause a lot for mating, I'm sure. And as fun as that might be.. it'd really slow us down. So.. I'm going to come out and just suggest that you go as the mushroom dragon."
"I can still make out with you as the mushroom dragon," Snowcora points out, "It just involves tentacles..."
"Yeah, but why would you want to?" Tulani asks.
"Depends. How much would you squeal?" Snowcora asks.
"I hardly ever squeal.. I roar," Tulani claims with her chin elevated. "I need to go get the Light and strip down. Want me to take your cloak while I'm at it?" she then asks, and holds out a hand.
Snowcora hands over the cloak. "I'll charge up before shifting," she says.
Tulani nods and vanishes for a few minutes. While she's gone, no hopeful pilgrims show up to ravish Snowcora.. probably because it's only a few minutes before the Sphynx returns, carrying her dragon-harness and the Light of Nala. She draws out the sword so Snowcora can 'top off' her energy.
Snowcora extends her hand and wiggles her fingers as she 'recharges'. "Oooo, you're going to wear a 'harness'," she teases. "Can I use a whip?"
"You've got a flail," Tulani points out, referring to Scourge's multi-tipped tail no doubt. Then she's starting her own transformation into a silvery dragon.
"You're no fun," Snowcora pouts as she sits on the ground. Always best to shift when sitting; less likelyhood of tipping over. From there it is disappearing into darkness to ... well, become something squishy and slightly disturbing. No, not Nicora, the counterpart; Gorphat's semi-pet dragon-thing.
This is the first time in a while where she's gone directly from one Trinity Aspect to another. It's much faster and smoother than transforming between other forms, even though the body types are vastly different. Once the change is complete, there's one final transformation: the Light of Nala itself. It goes from a saber to something much larger as Tulani picks it up and straps it to her harness.
"You know, it isn't the size that matters but how you use it," Scourge remarks wryly.
"Aren't you the one that likes things to be larger though?" Tulani asks with a toothy grin, and then heads towards the rear of the Temple, away from the city-facing side.
"That's only in the guys," Scourge remarks as it follows behind Tulani. "In this body it hardly matters"
Once outside, it's a quick trot down to the Yodhinala Cemetery before Tulani thinks it's safe to fly. Even then, she keeps low and follows narrow crevices and valleys - the mountains beyond the Seven Sisters are a maze of such features.
Scourge gets a good lick across Tulani's backside as she takes off, then it follows suit and takes off as well. Since Tulani knows the way, she lets her take the lead on the flight. "You have to sleep with any monsters we encounter there," the creature warns.
"Hey, they have to leave the city first," Tulani points back, both of their voices echoing off the canyon walls. "I'm staying outside, remember? I'm sure I could go in, but I'd need to be holding the Light to do it I think."
"I figured you would come in regardless," Scourge notes, "You worry a lot."
"If there's a good spot to keep watch from.. probably," Tulani says. Since dragons fly fast, the deeper part of the mountains pass by relatively quickly.. and once on the eastern side of the peaks, where there are no airship routes (except for criminals) it's possible to climb out of the maze into the open air.
"You have a really big butt in that body," Scourge calls out from its vantage point as it climbs as well, a few wingspans behind and below Tulani. Even with the commentary, though, it is paying attention to the area; particularly for the feel of pirate ships.
Being out in the sunlight is something new for Scourge as well - usually it has to move around at night, or in dark places. But the sun feels nice and energizing. Head-frill tendrils wiggle and suss, but the mountains are barren, and nothing shares the sky with them except for a single sky garden drifting along. The winds around the mountains make them dangerous for airships.. but for soaring creatures the updrafts make things easier.
"Respect the booty," Tulani calls back, and turns slightly southward. The foothills fade into steppe, and then into something akin to a desert.
Scourge does have to worry about drying out, though. But, it is doubtful it will be out long enough for that to happen!
The wind is dry as they get out over the wasteland. "You know how Forbidden Zones work from the air, right?" Tulani calls back.
"They do? Howso?" Scourge calls back.
"Well.. they sort of just show up when you get close enough," Tulani notes. "The city is under one, which makes it hard to find. But it isn't a stormy sort, so much as a.. uh.. weird sort."
"It could continue down into the ground, though," Scourge says, "Since this one seems different. I just hope there is nothing alive or dead in there."
"It probably does, from the way it felt," Tulani notes. "I can feel it more as a dragon I think. We may be more sensitive to wild magic or something.."
"Or crazy magic, since we're both quite crazy," Scourge claims.
"Anyway, be on guard for feeling weird," Tulani advises. "We can use that to navigate."
"I feel weird all the time," Scourge points out, "But I'll try."
Sure enough, an hour or so later Scourge's tendrils are feeling buzzy. Enough to give a sense of direction.
"Ooooooooooo," goes Scourge. "I wonder if I can use this to ... find ways to feel pleasure in this form." He's probably joking, but hey. "That way," he adds and veers a bit to try and guide Tulani.
Tulani passes overhead and slows, letting Scourge take the lead. There's plenty of hazy distortion over the ground as it is, but it seems to get stronger along with the tingling.
Scourge shimmies his backside at Tulani. Why? Who knows. Most of its attention, though, is focused on following the sensation.
The buzz messes with the sussing sense a bit, in an almost psychedelic way, which peaks when the boundary of the Forbidden Zone is crossed. Now there are a cluster of 'hills' ahead that weren't visible before.
"Alien Hoohah ahead!" Scourge calls out.
"Better start our descent.. before we get drunk," Tulani suggests.
Scourge folds his wings in and dives! "Loser has to give the winner a bath!" it calls back.
"What?" Tulani asks, then dives after Scourge!
Scourge is mostly just messing with Tulani, but diving is fun! Its goal is to either land, or just glide above the surface as far as it can.
The surface is odd. It looks like white sand from a distance, but up close it looks more like shells.. or very small bones. And soon enough the city really comes into view.
"It is such a happy place! I should build a summer home here," Scourge calls out.
There's cloud of white debris and Tulani lands and skids a bit. "Ugh, it's already making me feel queasy. At least you can't smell things," she notes.
Scourge lands too. "What does it smell like?" Scourge has to ask as it focuses on trying to sense with its other senses.
Things are messed up to Scourge-sense. At times, the whole city seems to have a dark purple aura.. at others there's nothing. It pulses on and off, seemingly at random. It also masks anything that might be inside the city, since it appears to be generated by the odd haze.
"Bah, I cannot sense anything useful at all," Scourge grouses as it paces. "It is all wibbly-wobbly."
"What does that even mean?" Tulani asks. "And if you were to go in.. should it be at the center or one of these arms?"
"Well, probably the center since that is where the ship went in," Scourge notes, "And that is what we're trying to find."
"A bug-ship," Tulani points out. "The Babelites sure like their bugs." She heads forward on all fours, trying to keep as far as possible from the spike-spire-things. "Imagine if those curved spires really were teeth!" she says.
"Who says they aren't?" Scourge points out as he slowly heads towards the center too, trying to avoid the spires and keep distance from Tulani in case one of them triggers a trap.
There's no sound that they don't make themselves. No wind even, making the air feel heavy. Just the crunch-crunch-crunch of walking over loose possibly-bone-or-shell gravel. "I feel like we're at the bottom of the ocean here," the silver dragon grumbles. The petals aren't connected to the central dome - there's ample space between them, but nothing on the surface to link them together. Here the spires don't interconnect, just curve over like ribs to nearly meet at the top, maintaining an almost constant spacing between them as a result.
"We might be at the bottom of a former ocean of blood!" Scourge declares in an all too cheerful voice. "Or yeah, it could be an ocean bed. What if there used to be class between the spires, making a sealed dome?"
"There's something between them," Tulani insists, even if does just look like a brownish heat haze. With her nostrils pinched shut, she dares to tap one of the spines with a claw. "Don't know what this is made of," she admits.
Scourge comes over to the same spire. Where she tapped it, he licks it. He doesn't have many other appendages to use, after all.
It tastes salty, and not at all like stone or ivory might taste. It also doesn't taste like dragon-butt.
"Salty," Scourge tells Tulani.
"Lots of things are salty," Tulani notes. "Like salt. Could they be made of salt? I don't think it's ever rained here."
"Remember what you said about being on the bottom of the ocean?" Scourge points out. It pokes its tail through the brownish heat-haze.
"That's more to do with the pressure," Tulani notes. She does not poke anything through the haze. Scourge's tail doesn't burn, or freeze, or burst into flame though. It does feel a bit moister inside the haze though than it does outside.
"It is moister on the other side," Scourge notes. IT grins at Tulani, then bounds through the haze!
Inside.. it feels a bit like the Mist. There's something slightly out of phase about the place, just enough to be disturbing. And the architecture doesn't help. The ground slopes down rather sharply, making the floor of the place a bowl, but with buildings growing up out of it that just seem like random collections of angles and curves. There are openings like doorways up and down their sides, and there may be other openings in the black patches of stone that just can't be seen. The jade-green sections have a translucent quality. And up above, at the apex of the dome, several of the spines are broken where they thin out, making a rather sizeable opening at the top. But there are also flickers of presence in the buildings. There and gone again.
"You might want to come through and see this," Scourge calls back to Tulani. "There are some things living in here. I ... think. Maybe. It is very strange..." Scourge goes no further; he sits and extends senses trying to figure out what is or isn't really here. As goofy as it may be acting, it knows this place is anything but safe.
Tulani comes through, slides down the slope a bit, and immediately begins dry-heaving. "It's a cesspool in here!" she gasps out, her eyes tearing. Any smell strong enough to put a dragon off its lunch must be pretty nasty indeed.
"What does it smell like?" Scourge has to ask as it tries to plug Tulani's nose with tentrils split from its own tail.
"That helps but is very disturbing," Tulani says. At least dragons don't have nasal voices to begin with, so a plugged nose doesn't alter it. "I can still taste it though. All of your favorite food, after it's passed through you.. but you still know what it started as, so that you can't ever taste it again without thinking of this. That's what it smells like. Rotted memories."
"I'm glad I can't smell it, then," Scourge admits, "Maybe you should wait outside before this place ruins you. I need to explore here ... and figure out why I keep sensing something alive, then not."
"I'll wait an hour, then come in using the Light to.. try and negate the sickness," Tulani says, and scrabbles back up the slope after removing Scourge's tail from her nose.
"Her boogers taste odd," Scourge mutters as he watches Tulani leave the area. It has to wonder why it isn't affecting him in quite the same way, but it is also grateful. So, its focus returns to the building, trying to find the sensation of something again, before he tries to fly towards it.
There nearest building certainly has flickers in it. Which means there must be rooms at least.
And that is the one Scourge heads towards. It moves slow, low, and trying to stay out of sight as much as possible.
The perspective lines of the city are confusing enough, and the shadows (and false shadows that are just black areas) make it easy to hide. There hasn't been any indication that Scourge's presence has been detected, either. Up close, there is a ground level opening, and another one further up the side of the tower facing a different direction. There don't seem to be two openings at the same level though.
Scourge picks the lower entry of the tower to enter. Going airborne makes him a larger target.
The inside is dark, but also not dark. The walls radiate blacklight, or something similar. It makes Scourge's body glow, in any case. The chamber itself looks like it could have been a cave, with no level surfaces. The walls are of the jade material, with a black spot in the center of the floor.
Scourge goes to examine that black spot in particular. Its movement is still slow, wary, with its senses spanning out in all directions.
There's a flicker, a touch on Scourge's left wing, and an unintelligible whisper, all lasting only a moment.
Scourge's attention moves to its left wing quickly. No jumping, no starting; that could be dangerous ... just a shift of its focus.
There's something like an afterimage, a suss impression in the air. It quickly faded, but it seemed like it was a tendril of some sort that touched the wing.
Scourge tries something; it tries to bring the Barsunala ... the wraith senses, to bear in this body. Is this a city of ghosts?
Aura impressions give way to a more silvery landscape. In Wraithvision the room looks very different. There are murals on the walls and ceiling, and what might be furniture, if hazy. And a ghost.. or something close enough to being a ghost. It stands on five stubby tentacles, and has a cigar-shaped body topped by five eyes on mobile stalks and a cluster of other sense organs. Its wings are folded in, and its manipulator tendrils are exposed. One of them passes right through Scourge, as if testing to see if something is actually there.
"What am I seeing?" Scourge has to wonder. "Hello?" he calls out to the empty-yet-not room. "What are you?"
There's a flicker again, and in that moment both Scourge and the Elder Thing are 'real' to one another, which causes the the ghost to recoil a bit in shock.. and then Scourge is once more a presence 'haunting' the ghost's room. There isn't any communication involved in the 'touch' that happens during the flicker though.
Still.. the alien seems to point at the black spot, as if trying to communicate. In the silver light, there's a marking on it.. a pattern of slashes, like those in the Shrine of Diphath and on the ritual jar.
"Are they phantoms, or am I?" Scourge wonders out loud. They, at least, do not seem to be dangerous. So, he backs slowly out of the room to take a look at the 'city' through the same 'eyes' so to speak.
Scourge pauses before exiting ... and goes to that dark spot to check it closer.
It's only visible in Wraithvision. It doesn't look like much, but must be something important. A name, perhaps? If Scourge's dreams are to be trusted, the Things had rather bizarre names.
Scourge tries to read the name. "What the heck would those things be doing here?" it wonders.
It isn't like the other writing Scourge 'remembers' - it's just gouges. As for how they're here.. well, Forbidden Zones, like the Mists, seem to have pieces of other worlds in them. But there must be more to the place than just ghosts.
Scourge tries to at least remember the gouges before backing out of the tower.
The city outside is still silent. Given the size, the number of buildings and the extent of it all.. there could be a million or more chambers like the first one, each with the ghost of an alien fungus-squid-monster.
"I don't have time to search each chamber," Scourge thinks. Instead, it goes airborne finally and flies more towards the center and down into the bowl, looking for the crashed ship.
The debris from the collapse of spires at the top of the dome is easy to find, and everything tends to slide towards the bottom of the bowl. And at the bottom is.. another hole, into a deeper section of the city. There are also bodies. The odd atmosphere, despite the moistness, must be antiseptic because there aren't any signs of decay, despite how long the Eeee soldiers must have been there.
Scourge pauses there to examine the bodies and try to determine if they're somewhat recent, or rather old. Their attire and possessions should help with that.
The armor is familiar to anyone who took a tour of the Tower of Babel before it was attacked. It looks torn in places, and it may even be possible that the soldier was dead before even arriving in this place.. from wounds sustained in the battle of the General's retreat. But there aren't any signs of the ship itself on this level.
"Into the great anus of the city," Scourge remarks grimly. It leaves the bodies behind and tries to glide into the hole to the lower levels.
There's another dome (or maybe spherical) chamber below, supported by more of the spine-ribs. Instead of buildings, the lower hemisphere is a series of stepped rings. Except where they bend to follow wide avenues leading out under the 'petals' of the city. Packed side to side along each step is a very large jar. Large enough to hold the body of an Elder Thing, certainly. And each of them has its own unique gash mark, from which a black liquid trickles out. The trickles run into bowls at the base of each jar, and the overflow pours into gutters in the step that eventually pour out into spouts. All of this accumulates in the massive lake that fills the bottom of the joined chambers.
Scourge flies up to one of the jars, though it takes care to not touch anything oozing out right now. "What is this?" it wonders ... and also tries to see if it can spot the same gash marks on some of the nearby jars.
They all have gash marks.. and they seem endless. The marks all look different as well. The jars are open at the top though, so it's easy to confirm that there is an actual alien body in each one.
Scourge leans down to the and sniff the black goo, so to speak. "Is this more of that necroplasm?" it wonders.
It gives off.. something. A black aura.. or one more like the odd lighting within the tower room. Whether it's actually blood though is hard to tell. And the musings are interrupted by a splash from the lake below.
Scourge's attention turns to the direction of the splash. "What was that?" it wonders.
There are ripples near the very edge of the lake, at the lowest step. There's even some 'goo' splashed onto the stone. The splash comes again as something slaps up out of the liquid against the stone before falling back.
Scourge glides down, close to the spot the splashing is occurring ... but it doesn't get close enough to be in splash range.
The splash repeats, as an Eeee arm reaches up to try and grab the edge of the step, falls short, and sinks back into the lake.
Scourge looks for a bar, pole, piece of rope, anything, it can use to try and fish the Eeee out of the pool with. It doesn't want to touch it after all, not even with the shadow.
There is some debris down here that has fallen through from above, including pieces of the dome-spines from the upper dome. There's a sharp pointy bit nearly three feet long.
After gliding over to the debris, Scourge uses its tail to try and grab the spire piece. If it can get a good grip, it's back over to where it saw the Eeee trying to get out ... and use the bit to go Eeee-fishing.
the double-bifurcated tail makes it easier to grab onto the narrower end of the chunk. It's surprisingly light for something structural.
Scourge dips the thicker end of the spire into the pool of ick near where he saw the hand flailing about. That way the Eeee or whatever it is in there can grab on ... then it is a matter of tugging it out of the pool and onto the step. The main thing here is do not touch the ick.
The hand reappears, and does grab onto the dangled bit of spine. Once it gets a grip, it just hangs on. With a tug that requires far too little force, Scourge now has a disembodied arm hanging from the makeshift tool held in its tail. The arm ends at the shoulder joint, and drips goo. It also shifts its grip slightly once it's free of the lake.
Scourge's brow goes up. "Wow. That is ... really nasty," it thinks as it has a part of an arm hanging from a spine. It now isn't sure what it should do with it, so it sets it down on the stair and leaves it there. "I guess the rest is somewhere in the pool," it thinks as it flies back up to get away from the arm.
The arm legs go when it touches the stair, and starts flopping around until it figures out how to move with its fingers.. and starts pulling itself along, leaving a trail of goo behind it. At least it's moving away from Scourge.
"That is not something I want to see," Scourge admits ... yet he keeps an eye on the arm to see where it goes. Maybe it is going somewhere with more information.
It makes it about a dozen feet before a long tentacle.. or a slender tongue.. shoots out of the lake and snatches it back under the surface. There is a lot of activity on the surface now - the center of the pool seems to be slowly rising up (the goo must have pretty good surface tension).
"Ack!" thinks Scourge as it flies upward now to get out of grabbing range! "Great, a pool of evil slime monster."
Scourge can fly a lot faster than the whatever can break through the surface of the lake. But when it does.. at least it means Scourge found the General's airship. It must have actually been alive, and not just looked like a bug. It's still mostly there, but the damaged areas have been crudely repaired with.. Eeee. Or parts of them. Some of them are just torsos stuck together, neck-to-crotch, to replace lost limbs. The bioship slops about on the surface, then actually lifts into the air.. despite not having any wings or other obvious means of flying.
"Okay, not what I wanted to find. I still don't know how the General and Amena became linked," Scourge thinks as he flies up trying to get back to the upper level ahead of the ship. But, he doesn't care enough to risk being eaten.
The zombie bugship doesn't follow through the hole into the necropolis proper. It seems to 'tire out' and drift back down into the lake of blood - or necroplasm. It would also explain why the corpses in the upper area haven't been incorporated into it.
Even so, if it remains in the central part of the lake.. there are still five other sections that it doesn't go into, since the passages are too narrow for it.
Scourge peers down from the hole above. "How did the General escape that?" it asks itself. "I didn't see any evidence of the general anywhere down there and how she got out"
Given the shape of things.. if the ship had crashed in the upper city, it might have still slid down into the lake some time later. A bit of examination does show gouges and what might be the landing area, where a lot of the spine-debris is clustered. It's also when Scourge spots something else: a smaller tower, but one that is completely black. It's only seen because the shadows don't match up properly - although to someone with echo-location it might stand out more.
Scourge's brow rolls curiously. It starts towards that tower. Slowly though ... while extending senses to search for 'life' there. Or lack of life. Or anything at all. It still has no real idea what is going on in this City or what its origins are; just that it milks dead creatures of evil reanimating ooze.
The tower seems dead until Scourge is right on the threshold. Then the flicker begins - two of them. There are two ghosts in the chamber beyond the doorway.
Scourge peers in slowly; just its head. It has no idea what to expect and not everything here is particularly safe.
There is no 'dark light' this time, but Wraithvision reveals something more like a shrine or temple. There are plinths covered in Elder Script, and two of the casket-jars, although larger and more ornate than those below. The bowls at the base of them show no signs of overflowing, and there isn't a drain of any sort in the floor. But there are drops of the liquid where someone seems to have spilled it, and two very big ghosts. Unlike the other one, these two seem to focus on Scourge.
"Don't mind the peeping fungus," Scourge tells the really big ghosts. "Go on about whatever it is you are doing with those jars."
"We are the jars," the ghosts reply, although not in any language Scourge has heard outside of a dream. The worlds of the Things and dreams are side-by-side, according to Legion. Or dream-Legion anyway.
"Crap, you can hear me," Scourge mutters to itself. Louder, it asks, "So ... what is this place? Why are you in the jars? Why are you making monsters with your own rot?"
"We are dead," one replies. "We are memory," the other adds. "This is afterlife. This is continuity, and legacy. There is no rot. Only memory. Memory that lives."
"Then why are you making monsters out of anything that touches you?" Scourge asks next. "I saw the ship down there and it is not pleasant."
"Memory wants to live," left ghost notes. Right one says, "Memory wants form. Animals cannot handle it. Animals steal the memory, dilute it.. filter it through many bodies."
"How are you related to the black hearts? This is nothing like them. Why is there goo on the floor in here?" Scourge asks one after the other. "And sorry, but we are not animals."
"You are not animal," Lefty notes. "The others were," Righty says.. and Scource sees them, as silvery projections. Jaguars, forcing their own to drink the blood before dragging them off. Others, drinking and going mad, or falling apart. And an armored figure, kneeling before the plinth between the bowls, and holding in her hand Sunala's symbol, the Grave.. and then turning it over, to form the symbol of Necropolis.
"I am no different than the last one, the General. What possessed her to drink this ick?" Scourge has to ask. "Extending your life too far is just ... disaster."
"The clever one," Thing One notes. "One mind, but two bodies," Thing Two observes. "One to filter, one to absorb the knowledge. Knew to drink from both of us together. Learned the ritual. Bound the memory. With us within her, she could bind the Legion."
"But she isn't healthy now. She's a mess from what little I know. Why would she even want to bind Legion? How did she even know of it?" Scourge asks.
"The undying one told her," Thing One claims. "Told her too much," Thing Two adds. "The undying one knows the lesser binding, the binding of flesh. To control those with the memory-flesh within them. Enslave them. So that this new one could create and command others, but be controlled by the undying one. Except.. she drank from us both. Two hearts. The binding of flesh can only control one."
"So, Amena doesn't control her, then?" Scourge confirms. "How did the General learn to do both? And why is she falling apart then? Why is she hiding in mist?"
"Her body is divided," Thing One claims. "Two bodies, but she shed one. The one that the undying one could control. But she is beyond the reach of the undying one. Even here, the dark one can only send her servants. She is only real in her own realm. Here she is nothing."
"The Legion is in the Mists," Thing Two notes. "To control it, she must remain in the Mists."
"Wait, she doesn't doesn't have an actual body anymore? Then she's a prisoner. Just collapse her in her tower and leave her there to rot for eternity," Scourge notes.
"The one who commands Legion retains her body, but only one of them," Thing One clarifies. "She cast off the other, we sense, but it too still exists. They can be merged, but there is risk of the undying one controlling the outer body, which has no mind of its own."
"You just mean her suit of armor," Scourge points out. "Frankly, if this is how she is, I do not see how I can stop her either. My power is over spirits and undead, and this is neither."
"What is undead?" Thing Two asks.
"Flesh that no longer breathes, has blood, or any sort of warmth," Scourge tries to clarify, then shrug. "She is out of my purview."
"The heart can be destroyed," Thing One explains. "Strike it with that which is like itself. Tear it from the flesh."
"If I can even get to it. She is encased in some significant armor," Scourge points out and rolls its shoulders. "She is a warrior, I am not."
"You are yet a larva," Thing Two says. "Your hand is your weapon, but you have not left your infancy. That will change soon."
"Forgive me if I don't quite believe it," Scourge notes. "I'm an actor, I play roles, I dance and perform. I'm good at pretending to be important, but that isn't going to matter when I have to deal with someone who is important, strong, and deadly."
"You can see us," Thing One says. "You can understand us," Thing Two says. "You are connected to us. You do not come to steal from us. This is not without purpose."
"I steal if I must, to survive. There is nothing I need to steal from here, I only came to learn. Besides, no matter who you are, it is poor form to steal from a tomb and that is all this city is, a tomb," Scourge notes. "Such things should be left in peace."
"If the dead deserve peace, then you should bring it to them," Thing One says. "The foe you face may desire such peace."
"Unlikely. If she were willing to drink that, she did not want the peace of the grave," Scourge notes and gestures towards the vats.
"There is not much more we can tell you then," Thing Two says.
"Oh, I doubt that. There is plenty you can tell me still," Scourge remarks as it moves into the room finally so it can read the plinth and the ritual inscribed there. "Like how you know anything about me, for example."
"We know you from dreams," Righty claims. "And your children," Lefty adds.
"You know about that?" Scoure inquires. "Not something I am proud of."
"You are here, in our dream," Righty claims. "The pool is for our memory, the city is for our dream."
"But why here? This cannot be your actual home," Scourge remarks as he tries to read the ritual.
It's in a different form than the usual writing, but Scourge remembers inscribing it with the others. It didn't make much sense at the time, being more an expression of five-dimensional harmonics - a mathematical-physical formula that in part defined the shoggoth, and.. tied part of it to normal space and time. The incantation doesn't have meaning as words, although it was part of a ritual. And once it was inscribed on the tablets, one of those was given to Legion to form the physical link. It would have more in common with the Exile torques that held the True Name of a Shadow dragon.
"So, how did she read this?" Scourge asks. "How does the undying one know how to read this?"
"Here is relative," Right-Thing notes. "Now is relative. Are you certain this is not our world, and you have passed through a portal to get here, or that you are in two different places at once? You experience your reality, and we ours, which you know to be different. There are places where such worlds can overlap."
"The new one drank the memories," Left-Thing replies. "Others have in the past and future, but could not handle it. Animals must filter it. One drinks from the source and becomes a vessel. The others drink from that one. Others still drink from them, and so on, until the memories are diluted by animal spirit."
"What would happen if I drank it? And if this were really your world, why haven't I turned into one of you?" Scourge asks.
"You are still flesh and matter.. mostly," Right-Thing notes. "But it would still alter your flesh.. if you drank it now." Left-Thing says, "You-yet-to-be would not have such risk in drinking. But you do not need the memories."
"Those who have been drinking it don't need them either," Scourge points out.
"Few are strong enough to drink from the source," Left-Thing claims. "But if they survive, they can pass along some of it through their blood, to create lesser versions. This is not unfamiliar to you. You have a pact with the Shadow folk. Those who make the pact are the strongest. But they can pass it on, in lesser form. From Shadow, to Vampyr, to vampire."
"Are there any of you living in this city?" Scourge asks.
"This is the Dreaming City of Kadath," Right-Thing notes. "Only dreamers are here. The dreaming dead. Only the undying beasts move and pretend at life. They are few."
"Well, that's boring. It would be nice to talk to something actually alive," Scourge remarks dryly. "What is in the other sections?"
"Different castes," Left-Thing answers. "Workers, Poets, Scientists, Leaders and Children. We at the core are the Philosopher-Priests."
"Why make a city at all just for the dead?" Scourge asks next. "It seems a lot of work for little use."
"Memory is strongest when pooled," Right-Thing claims. "The dream is stronger as a result. Our dream must be kept separate from that of the living. The city is for comfort and to help give structure to the dream."
"Why must the dream be kept separate?" Scourge asks. Alien creatures are so alien.
"The dead outnumber the living. Their dream would be overwhelmed by ours. Such an odd question," Left-Thing notes. "Why must your Sea of Souls be kept separate from the living world? When the dead interact with the living, it causes problems."
"Unless you dilute the dream by say, burning the dead," Scourge points out.
"Wasteful," Right-Thing claims. "And our bodies do not burn or decay as an animal's would."
"Are you sure? Have you tried?"Scourge asks.
"Why would we?" Left-Thing asks. "We are connected in the dream. We do not wish to end it or introduce pain. This is our peace."
"Is there anything more I should try to see here while I am here?" Scourge inquires. "Pity I cannot recover the ship."
"If there are further answers to learn, you would do well to seek them in the Temple of the Children's City," Left-Thing says. "That is where the undying one focused her efforts."
"Where is this Temple? I have not heard of it before," Scourge says. He also thinks, trying to remember anything that may have referred to it before.
"It is one of the Five Cities within Kadath, which radiate from this central dome," Right-Thing says. "You will know it when you see it."
"Any clues on what direction to start in?" Scourge asks.
"Continue the vector you entered with," Left-Thing advises.
"Oh great. If I remember which that was!" Scourge grouses in thought. "Is there anything more you can tell me ... or shall I take my leave?"
"We can tell you much," Left-Thing says. "But it may be of little aid to your goals and difficult to understand. Our realities are different. You wish to speak to a living being. The closest thing to that will be in the Children's Temple."
"Is there anything you want of me?" Scourge asks as he prepares to leave ... then look for this mysterious temple. This place creeps it out.
"You have pledged to set our Legion free from its pact with the woman," Right-Thing notes. "Make good your promise."
"That is it?" Scourge asks as it heads for the exit. "There is a first; no add on requests or little favors."
"The dead have little to want for," Left-Thing points out.
"Hah! Not true. The dead complain all the time about wanting to do things left undone. Or a cookie," Scourge complains.
"The peaceful dead have little to want for then," the Thing amends.
"Okay, that I will accept," Scourge concedes. "Don't let any other weirdos drink you; we have enough monsters." With that, out the door Scourge goes. Once outside he has to look around, find where he come in from (hopefully)! then head in the opposite direction. "This place needs a tour guide," it mutters.
Since Scourge entered at the 'crotch' of two spurs at the western end, that suggests going due east will reach the children's city.
"Gorphat would probably love this place," Scourge mutters as it tries to head east.
Once at the edge of the dome, it's easy to spot the next 'petal' city beyond it. Even through the spines, it doesn't look like the others - there are no towers to be seen.
"Innnnteresting," Scourge mutters as it eyes the towerless 'city'. "I'm checking out another section," the weird dragon thing calls out loudly, "No need to come looking for me!" Hopefully Tulani heard that.
Sound does carry oddly in the heavy atmosphere. Once at the edge of the new city section, it's apparent why there aren't any towers - because instead there's a huge, single winding structure that looks like.. an intestine. And in the center of it is a black structure that is probably the temple.
"Another literal adventure into the bowels of something. Lovely," Scourge mutters as it shudders from bad memories. Still, it is curious enough to go ... to into the winding passge and down, down, into the temple. Or outhouse. The ghosts could just be messing with it, after all.
There are flashbacks to a dream - of being a polyp on the wall of the Cosmic Gut. The replica is cold and hard and stone of course, but probably to the ghosts or dreams or whatever they're suitably gut-like. The temple however, is not much like the previous one. Someone's been here.. and they were messy. There are smaller jars, like the ones found in the Diphath Shrine, placed at random, and.. other things. Like the big glass jars with brains floating in them, eyeballs included, that are for whatever reason facing mirrors. There are piles of random body parts in bins. And what looks like a sleeping Jaguar head, spots and all, stuck to the top of one of the jars.
Scourge's eyes go wide. "Okay, this place needs to be cleansed with fire. Several times," Scourge says flatly, feeling ill. "Maybe I should turn back to Nicora and torch this place."
The head opens its eyes, which glow violet, and says something in an unknown language.. but the accent is similar to Gigi.
"I do not speak Aztepah," Scourge remarks dryly. "You, and this place, are foul."
"Skylander," the head says, in passable Standard. "What.. year?"
"6107RTR," Scourge answers, then repeats it in several other languages he does know, such as Sylvanian, Babelite, and Khattan.
The head licks its nose (meaning there must at least be some neck in there.. but how it can talk without lungs is another matter). "It has been a long time," it notes. "Who art thou?"
"Oh, i have a lot of names. Is it important?" Scourge asks.
"I do not know," the head replies. "I.. was.. Hotep."
"Well, I'm Alptraum Reisender. Also called the Barsunala. Also called Scourge. Sometimes 'Hey you!' and, 'Piece of crap Eeee'," Scourge replies semi-politely. "Please tell me this didn't happen because you wanted to get a head in life."
The head of Hotep blinks slowly. "You speak too quickly," it says. "Eeee. Eeee. Eeee. To the west. The city in the mountains. It still stands?"
"Yes, in spite of the attempts to fall it," Scourge replies.
"And.. Aeztepa?" the head asks.
"Dead, from all I know. Considered off limits. No one goes there anymore. Has an undead queen constantly trying to resurrect herself there through her descendants," Scourge says.
The corners of the head's mouth twitch upwards slightly. "May be success," it says. "May be judgment."
Scourge's head tilts. "Explain, please," it prompts.
"To create a land without death, one must.. redefine.. life," Hotep claims.
"I hardly call what you are as living," Scourge remarks rather darkly. "Without death there is stagnation. No point in existing."
"Death is a flaw," Hotep claims. "A flaw in life. Perfection of life.. does not require death. I am over four thousand years old now. I do not wish for death. Those in the jars.. they probably do. Heh. Heh heh."
"Oh, I could give you death, dear boy," Scourge says even more darkly. "And thousands of years of torment for each minute for the hell you have inflicted upon others."
"They were unworthy," Hotep claims. "But while I do not wish for death, I no longer fear it. It has no power over me, for I know that I have beaten it for so very very long. I see your blood. I see what you really are. Your power is yours, not to be shared. My mistress wants to share her power. Her gifts. It is in the blood."
"No, she just wants to control everything. There is a big difference," Scourge says as it grows angry, which also means things such as auras also tend to grow; particularly the oppressive draconic aura it inherited from the shadow dragon. "Fearing death isn't necessary; it is fearing what waits for you beyond it. And you see, I'm special. I can make a hell, customized just for you."
"And what of me would you imprison?" Hotep asks. "My soul? It is long gone. My spirit? That is bound to my flesh. No separation. Kill me.. and you kill it too."
"Oh, but I can extract it and separate it," Scourge says and smiles. Not a friendly expression. "I know techniques not from this world for doing it. Learned from the very creature that spawned the entries called shadow dragons. I can unbind you and take you to a place where any hell imaginable is possible and those without redemption get to spend their immortality in perpetual torment. You would envy those poor creatures in the jars."
"Interesting," Hotep says. "I have shed myself of need and desire.. by shedding my useless body. I have achieved a purely intellectual state of existence. You would bring back sensation though, via pain. Why? What is the point?"
"Punishment for the horrors you wrought. Your Mistress for example. I imagine her current existence is all due to you and your perverse obsession," Scourge says.
"I was her High Priest," Hotep claims. "I performed many sacrifices to her. I brought her the fruits of this unique place, learned to use the smaller beings - so much easier to survive than the adults. And perhaps even gave her the notion of a city where the dead live.. where death did not matter. But she was already a god. I did not give her that. If you are going to damn me to torture.. know that you must also instill hope. For without hope of reprieve, torture is meaningless. Burn away the hope, and it is all just sensation."
"The only hope of reprieve will depend on what you can offer. Honestly, watching you scream might be entertaining in itself," Scourge says rather darkly. "I deal with the condemned often; those who are far worse than your Mistress could ever dream to be. Those that have destroyed worlds, not just a paltry city or two. And you want to know something ... even they start to beg after enough time passes."
"You are not yet a god then, I see," Hotep claims. "But you are getting there. I am curious now to see how this is done."
"Kaira, can you hear me. I have someone here that deserves to join Vorg's fate in there," Scourge thinks as it circles the man. "One who was partially responsible for creating the evil of Aztepa on this world. Unless you seriously object, I'm sending him in."
"So is he already dead?" comes the reply.
"Oh, one more small thing. Once I have you, I can peel you apart like an onion. Layer by layer I can dissect your memories and personality; strip away everything you are. You see, you didn't care about getting rid of your body ... but ..." Scourge says as he moves in, his nose inches from the 'head'. "But I can strip away your intellect... Lay bear your innermost thoughts, memories, secrets, and dreams."
"And yet I am the monster here?" Hotep asks.
"Quite dead. Head on a jar. Someone who wanted immortality and did anything and everything to 'get it'. Helped create Amenchitli, who was the creature that tried to recruit Vorgulremik," Scourge thinks. To the head Scourge says, "You will be the only person I have ever considered using that ability on. So, feel special; you are horrible enough to make me consider using an ability I consider abhorrent."
"Alright.. I've things tuned for a soulless spirit.. I think," Kaira notes. "Last time this was tried was with the Shadow, and that didn't work out too well.. I have a better process in place now, hopefully."
"Ever wonder what it would be like to be eaten alive by a dragon, only to be shat out later and eaten again?" Scourge inquires of the head as it lifts its right foreclaw and sets it down heavily atop the creature's head. "You just might get the experience. Or, I could make you a slave to a demon that turns its minions inside out ... or ... I could make you sit and listen to a dragon lecture for centuries on the wonders of accounting. So, so many options. I may have to seek input from a few that I know personally; Sunala for example, on just what should be done with you over the eternity you will have." And then Scourge focuses on how transfers feel ... only he imagines it all in reverse. It isn't out of pleasure; it's out of a need that this person needs to face some sort of punishment for what he did in life. It's out of a need to believe there is some sort of justice in existence and that at some point those who chose to do cruel and evil things will face consequences for their actions.
The shadow extends.. as if in feeding mode, which it essentially is. The head is engulfed, and then comes the process of separating the spirit from the flesh. This involves.. chewing.. and the use of 'shadow saliva'. There are two downsides to this. The first is that Scourge can taste the foulness of the undead flesh. The second is more for Hotep, who is aware of the whole process while it happens. The flesh is ultimately rejected, pouring out of the shadow like black.. well.. effluent. The spirit however is captured - albeit a bit worse for wear - into the dagger.
Scourge twitches. It then looks at all the other jars in this room. "Should I draw the rest of you as well so you can actually die?" he wonders.
Necroplasmic flesh can be destroyed to end whatever suffering the brains are going through - if staring at their own hideous reflections for four thousand years has left anything to spare. The two Thing-Ghosts said Scourge had the ability to destroy the black organs with its right hand though.
"Kaira, there are others in here that are in torment. I wish to extract them too. Whatever remains needs to be put to rest somehow," Scourge thinks as he goes to the first jar. "What crime did you commit?" he asks of the jar. "Tell the bitch-queen her breath smelled like distended Rhian butt?"
Unlike the head.. the brain-jars have no means of communicating. Or likely even hearing. They can't even blink their bare eyeballs, which are just connected via the optic nerves and floating like the rest in the liquid.
Scourge shakes his head and tries setting its right foreclaw upon the jar ... release the shadow, and try to penetrate it to reach the brain.
The shadow does not like touching the liquid.. which is probably some form of necroplasm.. possibly diluted? It also brings up the possibility that it's burning the brains as well, but brains don't have pain receptors. It may be that iron is involved instead. There's nothing to stop Scourge from simply knocking over the jar and spilling it all out though.
Scourge steps back and just swats the jar with its tail, then! No point in being delicate, it supposes.
The glass doesn't break, but it does crack. Everything else sloshes out onto the floor though, including the brain. Without the liquid to support it, it slumps a bit more shapelessly on the stone, and the eyes are looking off in separate directions.
Now Scourge tries to put its right foreclaw on the brain to absorb what spirit might be left in the brain.
This time there's a distinctly different flavor. The flesh is still.. disgusting.. but the spirit element comes across as just food. As if there simply isn't any consciousness left at all.
Scourge sighs. So much for trying to find peace for the spirits other than just ending the torment. It looks around the room at the other jars. Steadying itself for the rest, it now goes about systematically smacking the jaws with its tail, then trying to absorb the spirits left in the brains.
There are a few flickers of awareness.. but they are barely there. Over the centuries, faced with the horror of their existence and unable to look away.. the captive minds either burned away or found a way to destroy themselves.
Maybe Hotep was right about the need for 'hope' in order to keep the torment going.
But at least Scourge has some relief in that he is ending it. It doesn't stop him from commenting weakly, "I hate this part of my 'job'." "/Kaira? How do people do this? How do people find such pleasure in extracting what people were, or leaving them in torment? Sure, I can say it to scare someone, but Gods take all, I could not find pleasure in this," it thinks.
"There's divine punishment, and mortal punishment," Kaira replies. "Not surprisingly, it's mortals that come up with the really nasty stuff more often than not. Either way, it comes to making the victim as powerless as possible. Overstimulation or sensory deprivation. All depends on what the tormentor wants."
"I still do not see how people can do it," Scourge thinks, "How can people be so ... horrible?"
"They aren't really people at that point," the dragon suggests. "But monsters can start as people, just as gods can."
"Is this my fate then? To become just as horrible?" Scourge thinks as it sits for a moment in the makeshift abattoir.
"You'd have to stop caring," Kaira notes. "I do horrible things. I exemplify Necessity. But I know I am doing them and why I am doing them and accepting the responsibility for doing them. Self awareness, and awareness of others, keeps me from being a monster."
"That spirit I sent in ... that one I need to stay intact for a time. I need to learn what he knew about the bitch queen behind much of this. After that, he deserves the same fate as Vorgulremik. I just want him to experience the horrors he put others through first, and for a long time," Scourge thinks. "He shouldn't get a quick trip to oblivion; he needs to understand what he did by experiencing it firsthand."
"I'll see what can be done," Kaira notes. "Mortal spirits don't survive well in here. But this one's been semi-immortal already, so.. might last longer."
"I also ... may want Sunala to interview him. She cares for the last descendant of Amenchitli," Scourge thinks. "So she should have the right to confront an agent of those that threaten her."
"Sunala," Kaira echoes. "I don't know what that could be like, bringing a goddess in with you. Even if she does have a living body and mind, at least."
"Can we project him out temporarily?" Scourge inquires. "Like was done for that rapey tentacle beast? And oh, I found their city of the dead. Go me."
"You'll have to talk to Sunala about it first," Kaira notes. "I can't plan for it until I've gotten this spirit stabilized, relatively speaking."
"I know," Scourge thinks. "It is a respect thing; out of all the Babelite Goddesses she is respectable and can even be kind."
"Any whiff of necromancy can hurt her reputation though," Kaira points out. "Only Srinalas can be used to communicate with the dead."
"And me," Scourge points out.
"Well, there is that, yes. I thought the Barsunala was connected tot he Srinalas though. You'll have to let Sunala decide," the dragon concludes.
"Quite. Well, there is nothing for me in this place of death. I think I need to go before it depresses me further," Scourge thinks as he gets to its feet. "And before Tulani comes looking for me, then blames me for weeks after about the smell this place has. I might want to join that jerk in there if that came to pass..." And so ... out the creature goes. In a hurry. This place will haunt it for some time to come, that is for certain.