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year 5, quarter 3
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I'm Death, I come to take the soul Leave the body and leave it cold
The dogs came quickly from all the tunnels. Most had white filmed over eyes and jaws that the flesh hung loosely from exposing the sharp canines as the skin and muscle and sinew moved as they licked lips they did not have anymore. Fur and skin had rubbed away and instead pockets of pus threatened to rupture at the slightest provocation. Those that could still snarl as two leaped at Vossler in the tunnel he had proceeded down. The rest of the pack circled the remaining three. Still even as the once best friends of man, could only smell their prey, the dark magic pulsated stronger from certain tunnels more strongly than the rest.
[attr="class","rem4"]Notes: throws a Haste at Vossler, asks Caius if he can fry cast Fire on the undead doges
They wouldn’t stop coming.
She thought they’d already managed to get rid of the current wave, but by the name of the Vermillion Bird, they never seemed to stop coming! It reminded her of the Rursan Reavers maybe a little too much, the way they kept on spawning—and since she couldn’t pick up any trace or sign of phantoma on them, well, that much was that.
How would you keep the dead down?
Trying to remember what she’d learned back on her home world, she scoured the deepest depths of her memories about these… what were they called, ‘undead’, or something along those lines. Unfortunately, though, there was nothing that easily came to mind, which meant: this was something new that she had yet to encounter!
“Watch out!” she shouted in Vossler’s direction, quickly turning to face the older man and casting Haste on him so he could get out of the way—by her count the party-wide spells she’d thrown up earlier should’ve run out by now, before she turned her attention back to the rest of the incoming horde.
They didn’t even look alive anymore.
The thing here was that she arrived in this world knowing most of her white magic spells, not the black magic ones—so she was in a bit of a bind. Looking over to Caius, she asked, “Can you throw a Fire or two at them?” before concentrating once more—she didn’t know how many more times she’d be able to drop Seraphim Strike on these undead…creatures.
Having ordered Vordun to stand down and recover his stamina, Caius cracked his neck, stretched his shoulders and brandished his blade as the zombie dogs would approach. Taking a deep breath as he would walk slowly and patiently to force them to spread out further, Caius let them come. His eyes had gone cold as his focus darted only to his enemy. Dogs would fly upon him, but Caius would bring up a barrier to ward them off. Before they could land though, Caius released the barrier and quickly brought his blade up to impale one straight through in the air. His movements had given him time to watch theirs and get an idea of how quickly they could move, and when they would likely attack. The glaive had telegraphed their assault, and had struck when it was best.
As it fell to the floor, the others that had gone after Caius weren't as quick to jump. They would circle him, growling and snarling at him as though it might intimidate him. Caius only stared back at them, no reaction... No emotion... He would hold out his gunblade, the main one this time.
"That move was wrong too."
Bang.
He'd shot one of them point blank, this time a shotgun like blast had fired from the larger gunblade, compared to the rapid fire shots from the smaller blades which had disappeared when he no longer had need of them. Those surrounding him backed up a bit when he shot their companion. For dead animals, they still seemed to have some canine self preservation instinct. Just not enough to run. They must be quite hungry for flesh then, which was funny considering they were dead. Caius would quickly reload while his enemies appeared to be gauging their next move. It was there that Rem would ask him to use Fire, to which Caius would turn to her and hold out a hand, obliging her.
"Yes, I can" He spoke dryly as the orb of fire would form in his hands, firing at one of the undead dogs that had begun to creep up on Rem. The moment it would hit them from behind, Caius didn't hesitate to charge up another and cast Fire once more at the closest one to it. The dogs surrounding Caius had taken the chance to attack then and there, but Vordun had seen enough and charged forward. Tackling one of them with his body, the warning gave Caius ample time to roll forward and out of harm's way. "THROAT!" Caius commanded toward Vordun, who changed tactics in the midst of him and his opponent scratching and clawing and biting at each other in a fit of growling and snarling, immediately going for the throat. Caius meanwhile, had begun to go on the offensive. Darting forward and countering a monster biting down on his blade by slamming his knee into its stomach and finishing the cut for it. Vordun had managed to down his opponent and Caius took notice of one preparing to pounce on the dragon as he would slash at one of his own to prevent them from jumping at the glaive. Caius whistled, and Vordun looked around - looking before coming to him was the protocol - and spotted his opponent, loosing a fireball of his own from his maws that hit the beast straight on.
"Vordun, fireball at me!" Caius commanded and he could see the maws glowing again as Caius would time it straight when the one at his heels would jump again. Caius activated his barrier once more. While Caius couldn't move much in this state, the barrier was solid. Which was good as the monster was struck dead to rights and would slam into the barrier before hitting the ground.
The big question in Vossler's mind was not if they would encounter more ghoulish creatures in this undead crypt, but when. And his answer came sooner than expected. Two of them, in fact. The zombified hounds rushed towards the party with a pair of them peeling off from the pact towards the Dalmascan. As before, he was ready to continue fighting.
One at a time, they lunged at the knight with their ridged and sharp teeth exposed. One bite would be extremely painful and probably even more difficult to heal. He'd try to prevent that. With the first canine airborne, Vossler yet again used simple combat tactics to defeat them. A swift horizontal strike caught the creature in the side and knocked it into the nearby wall. As soon as the second one lunged, he repeated his attack, this time sending it into the opposite wall.
Of course, the dead always have a problem staying dead, which the knight could easily help them with. While the first hound tried to rise back up to its feet, Vossler swung down to completely decapitate it. The other, however, recovered from the initial attack more quickly and was already launching itself again at the Dalmascan.
Even with his mastery of wielding his sword, another swing would not be quick enough to knock it out of the air a second time. Instead, his reflexes kicked in. With the aid of the steel gauntlet protecting his arm, Vossler easily backhanded the canine. Using the same method as before, this fiend's head was also removed.
"Behind you!" he yelled out as one of the remaining hounds flanked the group. It quickly moved in for a snack, and although wasn't obvious in that moment which ally it planned on attacking, it seemed to him that no one else noticed it except Vossler. Whether or not this was true is unknown.
From his position, there would be no way that he could reach the creature in time. He had no other option but to use it. Nightmare rose above Vossler's head as both of his hands clenched the hilt tightly. The blade itself radiated a dark shadowy aura from the knight utilizing his Souleater ability.
Vossler let out a yell as Nightmare swung downward. From the great-sword came a vertical wave of darkness that rippled across the hallway and narrowly missed the party members to strike his intended target. This was the closest thing that he had to a ranged attack, and its toll on his stamina made it an ability that he rarely used. However, in this case, the impact on the hound would be enough to knock it back and open up the opportunity for another party member to finish it off for good.
I'm Death, I come to take the soul Leave the body and leave it cold
The dogs lay slain by the combined efforts of the trio as the mage watched with disinterest. The tight cramped corridor become unbearably hot as the blonde casts fire spells with his dragon in an attempt to purge them from the undead. The smell of burning flesh and hair infiltrate all their senses as they make their way deeper into the labyrinth of twisted interconnected corridors the snake their way beneath the temple as though multiple genreations of monks had kept trying to befuddle the generation after them to not continue on into the depths of the earth. For the two mages, the slow steady heartbeat of darkness helped center them as the two blades were humbled enough to circle the path left hand outstrected when the mages were overwhelmed by the darkness.
As they progressed the catacombs seemed to age in fast forward, from neat hallways of refined they descended into those made of basic rocks and the path underhand turned to dirt. The walls however became increasingly marked with runes and etches of symbols faded away through time. The corridors became increasngly narrower and tighter to the point where one would need to crouch or crawl their way through as the walls and ceilings narrowed and lowered to halt the progress of anyone upright.
Still as the quartet would emerge from one tunnel toward the inner source of darkness they would find they were in a large hallowed out cavern with the ceiling as high as the sky almost. Complete silence aside from their footsteps as they would emerge from the small tunnel they had crawled through. The first thing they would notice would be the sea of coins and bones underfoot that lead all the way to a huge stone door in the middle of the chamber. Ancient words were enscribed in the stone but somehow all those who approached could make out the words: "The living are not allowed here. Not even the gods go beyond here lest they find their own death."
As the group approaches the door, a gust of cold dark wind affronts them as before them a phantom appears. It stands a good nine feet; it's scythe stained red and brown with dried blood. Still it attacks not as the nothingness behind the hood tilts it head. A black gloved hand reaches out from the nothingness beneath its robes, outstretched and waiting. The rattle of the dying is the only sound it makes as it stands before the door to the necropolis.
[attr="class","rem4"]Notes: is she onto something with the coins? Maybe???
This…this new sensation, the ‘undead’, as she remembered they were referred to by the old monk who’d let them in here—it was completely nothing like what she remembered back home. Most of Orience had monsters and military prawling around the place; nothing like this.
Absolutely nothing like this.
The stench of burned flesh was nothing new to her, though. She’d had to dispatch a lot of Militesi troops that way—but for some reason, here in this world, she couldn’t remember how to cast the other spells—only the restorative and defensive spells remained with her, at least for now.
The further in they went, the darker and heavier the press of magic weighed down on her. She didn’t know how the ‘pretty man’ was faring, since he was the only one who she guessed could pick up on the sensation; but it was more than enough to make her head spin. Looking over to the other two, she wondered how they stood up to all this undead.
Deeper, and deeper they went. The walls seemingly eroded down—the further in they went, the simpler everything became. It was like a clock set in reverse, only on a much more macabre scale. Thankfully there were no more of those undead hounds.
And not a drop of phantoma to harvest… she thought idly, wondering if she’d be relegated to back-line defense once they got to the center of the labyrinth. It was the pull of magic that kept her going forward, although the closer she got—the heavier it became.
For someone who was trained more in the healing arts, something of this… density and intensity would’ve been too much. But she held firm. Swallowing down the bile that was threatening to rise up, she jammed her way through the narrowing space, hoping it would eventually loosen up—
—and loosen it did. Now that they were in a cavern—the magical pull was getting much stronger, heavier.
It was making her head spin.
The moment she heard something clinking, she wondered—what was that noise? Looking down, she saw that there were coins—and horrifyingly, bones scattered among the cavern floor. Was it… was there something oddly… familiar about the…?
She couldn’t be sure. Crouching down for a few moments to take a better look, she idly spun one between her fingers, wondering if they were indeed one and the same. Brushing the thought aside for the moment, though, she walked forward—further, further in toward the middle where a cavernous door awaited.
All along the way she thought she could pick out familiar letters… were they the same Orience script? Or did it look uniquely different to everyone present?
Reading the words quietly, she then turned to the other three and asked, “Are you—do you see the words clear as day? Or do you comprehend them in the language you know best, from… from wherever you all came from?”
Turning her attention back to the opening, she almost jumped back out of terror and surprise as a hooded figure—a spectre, or whatever the closest word for ‘ghost’ was—approached them, wielding a scythe. To her eyes it looked similar to Sice’s scythe, but without the white glow…
…and then the figure didn’t bear down on them. Not a single attack.
This was where she turned to face the other three.
“I don’t—what does it want?” she asked them, at a loss.
Taking something to restore his energy once the zombified canines lied dead, Caius frowned as he regretted doing what he'd done. He had a soft spot for animals, but what was dead was dead and while they were dogs, they were zombie dogs that would have killed them otherwise. There was no other way. It didn't mean he had to like it though. Either way, they had a job to do as they continued on. It was hot, and Caius knew he and Vordun were to blame. But he'd gone in expecting at least slight discomfort considering all the dead things in here. Like the damned smell. At least now it smelled like roast undead instead of just undead. He could stomach that a bit more, believe it or not. Perhaps he was just so used to fire that the smell of flames didn't bother him. Vordun let out a snort that indicated the smell irritated him, but the dragon's nose was more sensitive than theirs, so Caius wasn't all that surprised.
The pathways seemed to go on forever, though Caius noted that he could feel, as he placed a hand on the wall, that the walls were no longer the same as before. Wiping his hand on his pants, he continued on with the others without a word. He could hear the cling of coins as they stepped through this sea, and then the crunch of bone as he stepped on one. But they would come to a dead end. Perhaps was it a door, or just a wall? He wasn't sure. But he seemed to be able to read what was on it, believe it or not.
The living were not allowed here, huh? Well, that wasn't cryptic at all. But the gust of wind indicated to Caius that things were about to get froggy. Vordun would let out a low growl as he could seemingly sense the phantom's appearance before the rest. The growl made it clear to Caius to draw his blade, which materialized in his hand. When the phantom did appear, Caius didn't speak, even as it didn't... He just stared at it and waited. Waited for it to attack, or not to attack. Caius' guess was the former. Rem asked if they knew what it wanted, but Caius didn't answer... All he did was prepare.
The knight continued breathing heavily after the battle had ended. Again, Souleater had taken a toll on him, though it would not take him long to recover his stamina. His head shifted as he conducted a quick headcount, making sure that the other members of the group remained uninjured. With that out of the way, Vossler followed the others deeper into the depths of this nightmarish labyrinth.
As they progressed forward, Vossler couldn't help but notice the lack of participation from the mage in the last encounter. There was a bit of arrogance that came from him, especially towards the other man and his dragon. But Vossler decided not to bring the topic up, at least for now. They could be ambushed at any moment, and the last thing he would want is to widen the division within the group down here.
The journey through the maze lasted longer than he would have expected. However, the Dalmascan was pleased that no other undead creatures disturbed them. The etched words on the wall stood out to not only Vossler, but the others as well. "I see them, too," he said in response to the young woman's inquiry, "It would seem that the Lich does not want any unwelcome guests. Though, that should be evident at this point."
Eventually, they would reach the end of the maze, where a ghostly specter greeted them with its large rustic scythe. It would be quite unpleasant to get caught by that blade Vossler thought to himself, removing his weapon from his back once more. Everything up to this point had been aggressively opposed to their presence, and he expected nothing different from this creature.
"Wait or fight? We have a choice, but do not give it the chance to deliver the first blow."
- Knight-Captain Azelas
Final Fantasy IX
27
YEARS
Agendered
Open
Pansexual
333 POSTS
Fin
Peace is but a shadow of death, desperate to forget its painful past.
The others fought well -- or well enough that Kuja didn’t have to raise a hand at least. He watched in disgust as emaciated mounds of tattered fur came snarling and snapping from the darkness. They never reached him. The girl continued her use of spells (not a terrible idea -- perhaps she was less dull than the rest of them) while the knight rended them apart with his sword. One of them landed squirming at Kuja’s feet, and his lips narrowed as he gathered electricity to his fingers and shot it into the monster’s frame. Kuja’s nose wrinkled against the faint odor of singed fur. He’d preferred to avoid any such magic with the air so still and dead.
Still, it was nothing compared to what accosted him next.
“Can you throw a Fire or two at them?” It was the girl that asked it. Kuja hardly had time to shoot them a sharp, disbelieving glance before the would-be dragontamer gave his grim reply and brought the magic to his blades. Had they forgotten everything he’d said?
The heat him in waves -- one spell and then another. The ragged fur caught fire instantly, fumigating the tunnel with a smell far worse than the flesh of zombies. The wolves were walking infernos completely ablaze even after the idiot put them down with blades and gunfire (why hadn’t he done that in the first place?). Kuja’s jaw clenched. These tunnels likely hadn’t been ventilated in centuries and weren’t about to start now. The temperature had already risen to a low broil. What was he think-
”Vordun, fireball at me!”
Kuja’s lips parted in disbelief. ”Pardon?” But it was too late. The dragon opened its mouth, sparked flames at its tongue, and breathed. Kuja thrust up a hand, muttering a spell on reflex, and cast a reflective barrier around himself, the girl, and the knight before the flaming projectile could hit its mark. The fire burst from the man in an explosion of light and heat. The cramped hall acted as a funnel, directing the flames in a concentrated tidal wave that thrust in both directions. Kuja felt the pressure against his barrier, but it stood fast, shimmering as it redirected the flames in a doubled shot towards its target.
Trapped in their would-be tomb, the heat condensed by the second until the air scorched his lungs. By the time the flames died, the monsters flickered on the ground, charred and blackened. Unfortunately, the absolute, unconditional moron hadn’t been emulated by his own hand. No, despite all worldly justice, the dragontamer stood completely unharmed and seemingly unaware of the consequences of his own actions. Was he even capable of that level of awareness? Or was he nothing but a particularly dim-witted child without any concept of restraint? With that dragon, the imbecile had blundered into a modicum of power, and it seemed he was incapable of staying his hand.
Kuja felt the words rise sharp to his tongue. He felt every curse of which he was capable set their target with deadly accuracy, but he stifled them as completely as his own hateful expression. No. Lashing out would do nothing but grant him a hostile reputation. Idiots never learned, and Kuja doubted it would matter for much longer. Kuja never wasted such effort on those condemned to die.
And so he took as deep a breath as he could manage (still shallow -- his head was spinning from asphyxiation) before muttering a spell. ”Aero.” A gust of wind howled through the tunnel so violent in its confined space that its edges struck like daggers. Kuja winced at the force, but it ended as quickly as it came. The carbon monoxide had been dispersed through the labyrinth, and the temperature had fallen below its life-threatening threshold. It still sweltered. It still suffocated him in the oppressive oven they’d trapped themselves in, but sweat and dehydration were infinitely preferable to hyperthermia.
”That should help.” Kuja kept his expression even -- almost pleasant. He would leave it to the others to condemn the perpetrator as thoroughly as he had. Though by his luck, they’d be too stupid to make the connection.
The rest of the miserable journey wasn’t particularly eventful. Just as he’d suspected, the place was a labyrinth and a rather old one at that. Kuja eyed the aging stone and the hardened earth beyond that. It reminded him far too vividly of the Terran shrines though it didn’t come as much of a surprise when he expected to face Lich. Could the Terran guardian have been transported here as well? It certainly seemed like the kind of haunt it would have chosen though attacking so blatantly went against its usual character. Or what little character it had under Garland’s leash at any rate. Even with all their power, the guardians had never strayed from the perfect obedience that their master commanded.
Kuja couldn’t help but wonder what actions they would take if given a will of their own. Kuja could only imagine that they’d collapse like puppets with broken strings.
His musings served to distract from the magic that steadily grew more oppressive than the heat. What had once been nothing but ominous flickering had condensed into a thick, ethereal fog. It chilled him like Mist, grasping at his soul in sharp tendrils. What exactly waited for them at the ruins’ core? The magic reeked of death. Its corruption permeated the very air he breathed, and he cast the strongest shell he could manage to shield himself from its influence. His magic did well to nullify it, but he could still feel it creeping at the edge of his vision. Something watched them from beyond the veil. Of that, he was certain.
Kuja waited for the others to crawl through a tight tunnel before flicking his hand to the side and terraforming the rocky debris out of his way and back into the earthen walls. He let out a sigh of relief as the tunnel finally opened around them. The heat had dispersed here despite the musty air. At least now he could breathe.
Something rolled beneath his step. He looked down curiously to find that his heel had slid on a pile of tarnished coins. He bent down carefully to turn one over in his hand. They carried no magic, but he could sense some aura of importance behind them regardless. What were those runes etched along the edges? Kuja ran a finger across them. Yes, if he wasn’t mistaken-
”Are you—do you see the words clear as day?”
Kuja looked up towards the startled girl and followed her gaze to the stone archway. He frowned, uncertain what she meant, before he saw it. Terran writing. Kuja froze, staring at it without comprehension. How? Why? The shock chilled him deeper than any magic, but in a breath it was gone, replaced by the same runic language that lined the coins. Kuja blinked slowly. Whatever magic dwelled here had seized his mind. He knew the feeling too well to mistake it for anything else. A psychic connection. His tail bristled with indignation.
Kuja straightened, scowling to himself. ’The living are not allowed here? That wouldn’t be a problem then, would it? After all, if that mage was to be believed, he had already died.
He sensed the rush of magic before he felt the wind. Before them stood an apparition swathed in black and carrying a scythe like the specter of death in a children’s fable. It watched them from behind its hooded shroud before quietly reaching forward a hand. The girl let out a startled cry wondering what it was they were supposed to do. The men readied their weapons. Still, the specter remained motionless and expectant.
Kuja glanced at the coins on the floor. Then he glanced to the specter. After only a moment’s consideration, he pushed past his single-minded allies, magicked forward the monk's coin, and placed it decisively into the phantom’s skeletal palm.
I'm Death, I come to take the soul Leave the body and leave it cold
The specter hung waiting in the air as it watched the foursome. Each of them acted in turn and the phantom did not but watch as he planned judment upon them. At last one would venture forward and place the due penance in his hand and his cold fingers would wrap itself around them. The vision would vanish to all except Kuja who it would turn to and speak, "The Necropolis demands respect, and respect you've shown. I shall be your guide though I will not interfere with the desecration that has seeped in here. Death is death and I am but the opener of the door and guide."
To the others though a voice echoed through their heads as they felt a dark magic surround them.
For Rem the Keeper had this to say, "Inaction is an action itself. Be wary your indecision has hindered your progress." Rem had Slow cast upon her and her actions and movement suffered greatly because of it.
To both Vossler and Caius the reply was the same. "To draw your blade in this place. Have you no respect for the dead? You did not attack so I will not fight you, but perhaps one must be dead to feel for the dead. Find water blessed by a priest or defeat the sealed evil to feel human once more." Vossler and Caius were both then struck with the Zombie status not allowing them to be healed by conventional means and gaining the same weaknesses as the undead they faced although maintaing control of body and mind.
With reward and punishment justly handed, the Phantom turned and held a hand up to the mighty door. The thing creaked and groaned as though it were a living thing of its own. As the door opened the necropolis unfolded before them, graves upon grave littered as far as the eye could see with them becoming larger and more obelisk the further into the city they were. The phantom turned to Kuja, "At the crossroad ahead, left lies the salvation of your patriots with jugs of water blessed by priest guarded by the undead. Ahead lies the sealed chamber. To the right, a powerul being who has dwelled here almost as long the earth corrupter himself. To banish such a creature might prove a blessing or a curse." The phantom then hovered silently unwilling to answer to any words or actions til he was needed as guide again.
As they entered the door would close behind them, and the howling would begin anew and before them a beautiful woman would appear. She would attempt to charm them as she danced through the graves trying to save time as rows of the undead now chained in armor and armed with pikes and swords would accost them from behind as they walked forward. If one was able to get close enough to the woman they would notice the batlike wings attached to her and the slightly larger than average canine teeth.
