Upon Arrival at Sunala's Temple, Alptraum is once again guided to the 'office' of the High Priestess, Sukara. "Barsunala," the older woman greets, and gives bow of her head from behind her desk. "What brings you home to us?" she asks politely.

"Must I have a reason to visit home?" Alptraum waxes poetically for all of a few seconds until the 'school teacher' look gets him to shut up and clear his throat. "Two things. One, I have the souls of several of the royal mages to hand over for judgment. Secondly, I recovered an old artifact I believe belongs to the temple." As he explains, he reaches around and fishes out the odd 'shroud' item he had recovered from the old estate.

Sukara takes and unfolds part of it over her desk, with an intense look of concentration on her face. "If this is what I suspect, it is very old indeed," she says. "I'll have to fetch Yodhsunala Zaffrella to pull up the proper reference, which could take a while. As for the other purpose to your visit, I imagine you will want to seek audience with Sunala herself?"

"I'm sure you can convince her secretary to let you in to see her," Sukara says with a slight smirk. "Unless you'd rather bypass all of that and take the secret tunnel?"

"Mmm, I might, as I could surprise her secretary in the process," Alptraum admits, amused. And plotting.

"Well, it is your choice," Sukara says. "If you wish to use the passage, there is nobody here to see you do so, other than me."

Alptraum considers this some more, then nods. "Passage it is," he concludes, then moves to go make use of it.

This involves working the puzzle-wall to open the hidden trapdoor, then on through the tunnel, and finally whistle the special code until the guard opens the far end of the passage. "You are the Barsunala," the Yodh points out. "You could use the main entrance."

"Yes, and? This is more fun. Sneaking is always more fun," Alptraum points out right before tapping her nose.

"You'll have the Goddess wanting to use it if she ever finds out," the guard says, and leads Alptraum out of the water closet. "Do you need me to announce you, or bring anything?" she asks.

"No need. I'll announce myself, so to speak," Alptraum answers, "Thank you, though." He's already trying to sense out where people are nearby.

As usual, when there isn't official business for her to preside over, Sunala is in her sitting room, along with Pouncer and another Eeee.

Alptraum moves quietly, or at least tries to, to see if he can sneak up and manage to grab Pouncer. Why? Eh, why not? If she's near enough to a door or the like to manage it.

Sitting Room of Death
Even the quarters of the High Priestess of Sunala are a bit sparse. But since it is somewhat likely that she will receive guests who want a private audience (that is, nobles) some allowances have been made. Since Srinala took over the quarters, things have been made a bit more comfortable, if not cheery.

Pouncer isn't sitting, as the other Yodhsunala is taking one of the seats across from Sunala, with an open ledger in her lap. The cloaked not-really-a-Savanite is leaning against a pillar, near one of the curtained entries. So Alptraum can get to her from behind the curtain if he really wants to.

Of course he wants to. So there's a bit of time spent working his way over to that curtain. And once in position, he goes, "Rawr!" and grabs her by reaching around the curtain. Yes, this is stupid to do especially here. But, it's the urge to counter all the gloom with something absolutely ridiculous.

The girl lets out a sudden bark of shock, which in turn makes the Yodhsunala nearly jump, such that she has to scramble to keep her ledger from falling to the floor. Sunala may smirk briefly, but that's all she does in response to the sudden noise.

Alptraum is promptly chewing on Pouncer's shoulder (gently), and growling. "I have spotted my prey," he growls around her shoulder teasingly.

"Was that supposed to be a play on words?" Pouncer signs quickly, but is clearly trying not to laugh in relief.

Alptraum reaches out and signs, "Of course it is, my spotted chew toy." There's a bit more chewing, then he releases his jaws. "My apologies, but I always have the urge to try and cheer this place up when I visit," he claims. "Even moreso when I come for more serious matters."

"I.. do you have an appointment?" the flustered Yodhsunala asks, looking from her ledger to Alptraum.

"We can continue tomorrow," Sunala tells the Yodh, using her Goddess Voice that sounds like thousands of other voices are involved. The Yodhsunala stands and bows, then backs out through one of the other curtained entries.

"For your riveting memoirs, Tales from the Tomb?" Alptraum asks further as the Yodh leaves. He's still holding onto Pouncer. "I'm here regarding the, ah, deposit of several spirits of former Royal Mages that I recently removed from living."

"You still owe me a day out," Pouncer reminds. "This sounds like big important stuff though."

"Oooh, I could take you to one of those weird body art places for a makeover," Alptraum teases Pouncer before turning his attention to Sunala. "I do. They were claimed with the help of Rephath's weapon, to be held for judgment and punishment. They are currently within me, so to speak," he explains.

Sunala gets up from her chair and stretches her back for a moment. "A matter for the Tribunal then," she says, and holds her hand out to Alptraum.

Cavern of the Forgiven
Within a vast, dark cavern there was once a forest of white-barked, glowing dead trees. Now it is dark and empty, and the sounds of the Sea echo within it. All that remains are a few dark roots and stumps.

Alptraum finds himself dressed in his 'formal' outfit, including the Y-shaped silver tabard with the embroidered symbol for Spirit over the heart, and the fancy silver chain wrap over his right forearm. Sunala seems much bigger here, with a dark glow. "The others should arrive shortly."

"It's always strange to move between my duty and my more normal? self," Alptraum admits as he looks at his attire, then the rest of the room. "I also obtained an old shroud artifact. It is being identified by Sukara."

"The Altar of Twilight, from before We split," Sunala says. "Before the Barsunala."

"Or the Shroud of Fate. Or the same thing. It has been removed from their use which is good no matter what it is," Alptraum says.

"I must admit the third use bothers me. Though given the sorts of people I have met, I can see the temptation," Alptraum admits.

"It allowed for the soul to be held captive within the body, no matter how badly damaged it became," Sunala explains. "It meant that the dead could still be made to feel pain."

"That was not unlike the purpose of the Well of Souls In Sylvania. It was used to keep captured Necromancers alive to feel suffering for decades," Alptraum explains. "Sometimes the acts of people are so bad that even the end of their lives is not enough punishment."

"It was not used often by the Yodhsunala, but it was a potent symbol," Sunala explains. "There was no escape from the Yodhsunala, not even in death. Before the advent of You, it also served the need for calling forth the spirits of the dead on behalf of Rephath, in order to bear witness to their own murders."

"So, with it returned, does that mean I am no longer needed? That I have brought back my own end?" Alptraum asks, one brow arches up very slightly. His expression is neutral, though he sounds a bit concerned.

"It will be placed in a vault," Sunala says. "Only We should have that power, and You are the chosen means to wield it."

This gives Alptraum pause. "Then it would never be wielded lightly," he concedes at that revelation.

"I suppose I'll just have to borrow the Barsunala then when necessary," the slightly cold voice of Rephath notes as she appears from the darkness, decked out in her blood-red armor and with the scales hanging from her hip. She looks around, then asks Alptraum, "Was this the cursed place? And it is good to see you in your traditional garb."

Alptraum sits up straighter. Rephath, for as much as he sometimes jokes, scares him. "Goddess," he replies politely and bows his head to Her. "This is the place where the Sabbaoth kept those he wished to rot away and fade from all memory, yes."

"A good place for this Tribunal then," Rephath says. There's a sudden breeze out of nowhere, carrying with it the stench of sickness, followed by a somewhat squealchy sound of movement.

Alptraum's left ear twitches. There's the feeling of revulsion, and the more disturbing feeling of strong attraction, given his complex relationship with Gorphat. "Goddess Gorphat," he says politely and neutral.

Gorphat arrives on the back of a giant, armored slug of some sort. Where she sits is a patch of bare, slimy skin, making it difficult to tell where the Goddess ends and the slug begins.. if there's an actual separation at all. "Barsunala," Gorphat greets with a wet rattle of a voice. "Sisters." The other two nod their heads in reply.

"I have brought the spirits of several of the remaining Royal Mages for your judgment," Alptraum says once all three are present. "They have been part of the group attacking the city as of late, and leading cannibalistic raids out outlying villages in the territories."

Rephath taps her foot, and growls slightly. "We will begin as soon as the secretary arrives," she says, sounding impatient.

"I appreciate your method of travel, Goddess Gorphat. Very clever and effective," Alptraum comments to the Goddess.

The sound of rapid footsteps approaches, only to end with a 'Waagh!' yelp as the owner hits Gorphat's slime trail. But eventually Barada emerges from the darkness, clutching a heavy looking tome.

"Ah, Goddess Barada. Your Daughter cricket has in possession one of Your lost artifacts. I expect you already know this, but I wished to mention it anyway. She is working hard in Your name," he says.

Barada nods to Alptraum, and says, "We thank you for the challenge presented to her."

"She is uncovering hidden histories of some of the mage's victims. A difficult task," Alptraum explains. "Very much a Barada challenge."

"Well, that's everyone," Rephath says, and looks to Sunala. "Barsunala, release the prisoner," Sunala instructs.

Alptraum extends his right hand and summons forth the weapon he used to capture their spirits. It extends, and the top curves into its blade. HE sweeps it in the air before him and like painting a broad canvas, in its wake he leaves behind one of the mage's spirits.

Gorphat's slug fires out what could be tentacles or streams of goo, which pin the spirit in place. Barada pages through the tome, before announcing, "Asherah of the Royal Mages, born Ash bar Falwynn."

Alptraum arches his brow. Useful! But then anything tentacly and sticky is, and all are Gorphat's toys, really. "If I also may add: Captured while helping lead a cannibalistic raiding crew in the outer territories, and intended to steal the body of a child," Alptraum adds, "As such, he also compounds his crimes with the desecration of mortal remains."

The shade doesn't seem willing to answer that, until Barada begins to silently move her lips. Then the shade speaks, "Yes! We could live forever, so his was the only punishment I feared!"

"Fear of those in front of you often over-rides fear of the divine," Alptraum says, "A common failing of most living folk."

"Neither greed nor selfishness are sins, but we cannot abide blasphemy," Rephath notes. "Did you choose to stay with your cabal despite the fear? Did you seek the power of the gods?"

Again, Barada causes the shade to speak. "Yes! It was thrilling. The power that could be wrought from artifact and sacrifice!" The spirit is trembling, but whether in current fear or remembered pleasure is not clear.

"From what little I saw of them firsthand, they did indeed derive pleasure from what they did and used others for," Alptraum adds, "Their ship alone was a charnel horror."

Rephath growls again, then steps forward and strikes the spirit with her armored fist, knocking it to the ground. The blow nearly caves in the side of Asherah's head. "Are they last of them?" she then asks Alptraum.

"There is at least one more that I could not catch, he spoke through the use of an animated thing of mirrors and clay," Alptraum explains. "I believe that is the last one. All the others i have brought here for your judgment."

"What of the others killed by the Yodhrephath?" Asherah suddenly asks. "I must suffer while they escape punishment?"

"They are at hand," Sunala claims. "I will make sure they know your sentiments on the matter."

"Oh do not worry. Your suffering I am sure will be as grand as you believed yourself to be," Alptraum says and smiles a bit evilly. "After all, did you not always want the grandest for yourself?"

"Yes, what sort of suffering is called for?" Gorphat asks. "Being eaten alive forever, I say."

"Why not both?" Alptraum offers. "You have eternity, it can ... change up so he never knows what to expect and try to prepare for next."

Barada dutifully writes the suggestions down. "Both punishments then, to start," Sunala agrees. And with that, the ropy goo-tendrils drag the spirit back towards the slug and into a maw that seems to be like a tunnel full of venom-dripping teeth. "No! I was going to be an immort-" The spirits is cut off once his head has gone down the slimy gullet.

"Enjoy your meal," Alptraum says to the slug-thing, and salutes it. He twirls the sythe-thing again, and with another sweep of the blade, another of the captured spirits stands before them.

Both Rachab and Ormazd follow the same pattern of crimes and excuses, as do the even lower ranked ones. But then comes Apollyon himself.. or Aphayal Sands as Barada names him. "Lieutenant of Caradoc Pancrazio," Barada notes. "Third eldest of the founding Royal Mages," she adds.

"Welcome back, Apollyon," Alptraum says with a lazy smile. "I believe those with me need no introduction."

Rephath speaks first this time. "You're one of the ones that made the trees," she claims. "You corrupted him."

"Corrupted?" the Mage retorts. "Your hero was already corrupted when he came to us, begging to live on and fulfill his destiny. The one you all denied him, apparently."

"The Sabaoth was always meant to be a temporary state," Sunala says coldly. "He wielded our strength to defeat Diphath, and then it returned to us."

"And with it, his ability to survive his injuries," Apollyon claims. "His reward was to be death?"

"Death is a transition to a new state, a change, not an end. And all things that live should end in time, otherwise the world stagnates," Alptraum says, quietly.

"To die and live again was Rinala's promise, at the time," Apollyon boldly points out to Sunala. "But a random life, not one with the rewards he was due for his actions. Not one of favor with the Kindly Ones - who could not even save the life he had, that he very nearly gave to save you all."

"Save us?" Gorphat laughs disturbingly. "SAVE US? With your aid, he twisted us, made us into our own opposites. He drove out the enemy, then became the enemy. His vengeance on us was thorough."

"I think you also fail to see a point of him dying, Aphayal," Alptraum speaks up, though his tone is quieter than the others. "He would have been a symbol to others, of sacrifice, of giving, and of being willing to work for something greater no matter the cost. If it was done just for a great reward alone, it diminishes the meaning of the act, and the impact it has on the hearts that hear the story. He would have lived on in the hearts and minds of those who followed as a great hero. That would have been a form of immortality in itself. But instead he decided to become the monster."

"That is not what we needed of him, though," the mage-spirit replies to Alptraum. "We needed an immortal puppet. One that would send the opposite message, that power and holding onto it is what mattered."

"That is what you needed. That is not what the people needed," Alptraum counters. "Those that desire power like you are the ones least fit to have it."

"Diphath's need, you mean," Sunala points out. "You were easily manipulated by her."

"Rephath and I will peel him apart, from present to past, to uncover all of his secrets, until all that is left is his original self," Barada says. "That will then be punished, never to understand why."

"No one said it would be. Catching you was not easy," Alptraum points out. "I still managed it, and I am a shadow of what They can do."

"But you have your own power," Apollyon tells Alptraum. "Dronnel never had that. He depended on the Sisters, and so ended up hating them for that reason."

"Power I sought only for helping another, though, I did not seek it for myself," Alptraum notes.

"All that matters is that it is yours, and not theirs," the spirit claims. "It can't be taken away by them."

"If you do not see how it is different, then I am afraid I cannot explain it to you," Alptraum replies, simply.

"I am off to be unmade," Apollyon notes. "So understanding one another is irrelevant."

"As I chose mine," Alptraum adds. "And the consequences of my choices I have to live with, and make peace with. And ultimately accept."

"Yes, but I earned it," Apollyon claims. "I beat the gods for centuries, and no matter what vengeance they enact upon me, they will never forget that."

"That's enough of that," Rephath says, and then the spirit is pulled into Barada's book.

"The next ones aren't dead, so I cannot summon them," Sunala says, turning to Rephath. "The Doctor has probably outlived its usefulness," Rephath agrees.

"I would like to get confirmation from the mages here is nothing more they wish to try to gain from them, them they are all Yours," Alptraum requests.

"We will keep them in isolation then," Rephath says. "Their existence is torment enough for the time being."

Sunala then summons up the crews of the Royal Mage airships. The Mages there were newly initiated ones, but given the initiation rites they definitely fell under the Diphath heresy banner.

"The ship they ran was beyond vile. Horrors compounded upon horrors," Alptraum explains, "Far too many for me to enumerate and clearly show their gravity."

"Food for Magog," Sunala suggests, and Gorphat's death-rattle laugh makes the spirits cower.

Alptraum even shivers at the mention of Magog. That creature is terrifying, and Nicora actually voluntarily took one of her afflictions!

"It is a blessing," Gorphat claims. "A chance at eventual purification, to be worthy of the Sea of Souls."

"It is to be a corpse, but aware of it, buried under the bodies of others, until a Yodhmagog digs you out and chews the sins from your flesh. If there is anything left, it may reach the Sea," Sunala explains bluntly. "It has not happened yet, however."

Alptraum doesn't admit that Nicora, the Yodhgorphat Scourge, is a walking maggot factory herself.

"Hmm, I don't think I'll visit," Rephath says. "Sounds suitable enough, however."

The spirits are devoured by the slug, but feet first this time, and slowly, so the the others have to watch as they await their turn.

"Advisable to not visit," Alptraum whispers to Rephath. "I unfortunately do and it is traumatizing."

"There are two dozen minions and mercenaries, along with the few from the raid attempt on the Tower.. and Pancrazio," Barada lists out.

"Some of them wounded my Yodh," Rephath notes. "I would claim them for veng.. punishment."

"I am amenable to allowing Rephath to decide their punishment. Her daughters were on the front line," Alptraum offers.

"Going to hang them on your tree, and put them into the training dummies?" Gorphat asks.

"Thank you for the suggestions, by I already have guidelines for these sort of things," Rephath claims.

"Some of the rest engaged in cannibalism and unsanctioned torture," Barada says, and Gorphat gets a hungry look in response.

Alptraum absently reaches over and pets along Gorphat's slug-side while it eats the prisoners going to Magog. "What are you thinking, then?" he asks.

"It will depend on the degree of injury they have inflicted," Rephath says. "I will require your services when the time comes to enact punishment."

Alptraum isn't sure what to think of that! "All right. You have but to summon me," he offers Rephath.

"That leaves nine regular mercenaries," Barada notes, as the remaining spirits take shape between them all. They, at least, are obeisant to those surrounding them. "There were in the ship brought down by the Yodhrephath. Didn't partake of any rituals or such, but took the Mages coin."

"So, basic mercenaries, but not violators of any significant sacred tenants? My opinion is they should be allowed to simply pass on as hired soldiers," Alptraum offers, "But, I relent to your Wisdom, My Glorious Aunts."

"Working for the blasphemers is still a crime," Sunala claims. "But they are warriors," she agrees and looks to Rephath.

"Hmmm," Rephath ponders. "Not honorable warriors, but that is true of any Eeee. Still, I think they should be turned over to Blakat. She may give them glory or suffering, but rest assured there will be madness."

"That seems appropriate," Alptraum concedes. "They sought violence in life, let them have it in death."

The spirits remain silent, until they are sucked into Rephath's scales. "Are there any others to deal with?" she asks.

Barada notes, "That is all of the ones on the list, save for the three that comprise the Doctor, and Pancrazio."

"That one deserves something very special," Alptraum says, "HE does not deserve any sort of peace, not after what he has done and planned."

"Indeed, he is a traitor of the highest degree," Rephath says, looking.. uncertain.

"The Lore protects him, to a degree," Barada explains to Alptraum. "He is the author of us, you could argue."

"So, shall I be the one to choose his fate, then?" Alptraum asks. "I know many that would see him punished, and may have opinions."

"Perhaps, if you make the suggestion, it will be acted on much easier than if We have to do it," Barada says.

"Then give me time to consult with some of those closely wronged by him. I would like their feelings taken into consideration," Alptraum offers. "I will propose something soon."

"Then I adjourn this meeting of the Tribunal," Sunala says, and then Alptraum is back in the study, holding her hand.. and back in his regular clothes as well.

Alptraum blinks a few times, then breathes out. "I am glad to be done with that," he admits as he carefully pulls his hand away.

"Plus dealing with many of your Sisters at the same time," Alptraum admits. "It's ... stressful." He looks to Pouncer and says, "You're better off not knowing."

"Time is different in different places," Alptraum tells Pouncer. "We've been dealing with some very evil people in another place."

"Dealing with?" Pouncer asks, grabbing at her cloak tensely. "They aren't here are they?"

"Not anymore! They were inside me, sort of. Now they are not," Alptraum explains. "So, you're fine. You were never in any danger."

Alptraum holds up his odd right hand. "Similar to how I've contained other spirits before, is all. I am a monster, you know," he jokes.

"Mostly weird. Also, They," Alptraum says and gestures to Sunala, "Can change my form if they wish."

"Because you would not do it anyway," Alptraum points out, smiles. "and I suppose I should likely be going. I interrupted your work with the other Eeee."

"This was more fulfilling," Sunala claims, but nods. "You must go to the Mages again."

"I know, I have other items for them to dispose of, and also get their input on Pancrazio's fate. He did much harm to them as well," Alptraum agrees and nods. "Also, question ... would you be upset if Pouncer here got some ... body decoration sometime?"

"She is covered in rosettes," Sunala points out, "from what I am told. How could she be more decorated?"

"Oh there are many places it can be hidden. And it can be done in your honor and symbology," Alptraum muses.

"My symbol is only to be used by Yodhsunala and in consecrated shrines and graves," Sunala points out.

"All right, fair enough," Alptraum concedes. "It was just an idea. My apologies. I should get going."

Alptraum bows and kisses Sunala on the forehead. "Thank you for allowing my .. antics and oddities. I will see you soon," he tells her, then rises. He pats Pouncer on the top of her head, then slips back towards the secret passage in.