Scene #1302: The First Focus

Owner	Pose
Ainsley	The daylight hours in Aztlan are eerily still. Despite the relative bustle of the central camp, there's absolutely nothing happening on the surface of the city. The ravenous undead are sprawled out here and there, always a few more to replace those that the party has killed in-between major excursions. They seem to take on a similar unending trait to those in Solomon Island, even though their nature is wildly different at a glance. The reason for this is the underground tunnels. The undead are in there in significant numbers, so there's a few skeletal heaps around the tunnel stairway that the party is gathering around today. The dark leading within is forboding, as the red blood lights shine ominously deeper into the stairwell and cast a sinister feeling up at those looking within. The road leading up to it is lined with stone buildings of one or two stories tall, without anything in the way of discernable markings beyond the 'mesoamerican' designs all over them. Heavy stonework that would likely hold up for hundreds of years without maintenance. Most of the windows are cracked, broken, or just plain missing, so there's occasional scatterings of colored glass on the sidewalks. The first sign of an actual vehicle is spotted-- a crashed steampunk-isk bike without wheels and a dimly glowing crystal encased by its rather strange and arcane engine. Some manner of hoverbike. The former rider is nowhere to be seen. Ainsley stands there at the entrance of the tunnel ... without a map in her hands. She memorized the map for the sake of this adventure so that she won't have to constantly be checking it while they're walking or fighting, and won't lose it if she gets accosted by an angry skeleton. She has a neutral gaze that is hiding a heavy tension in her shoulders pretty well. She seems stiff and almost robotic in her movements, though nothing to the level of a certain librarian. Her tail tip fidgets with an energy she can't hide, because she's here to get something Done. She has a handwoven flower bracelet on one of her wrists. She fiddles with it without thinking, her gaze instead fixed on the dark stairwell she is going to travel down.
Faruja	Somewhere in the back of Faruja's mind, he crushes the idea of asking Ainsley whether this city was so darn /creepy/ beforehand. He's getting shivers that are only slightly put-off by the boiling feeling of a desire to Burn Everything Righteously (tm). But most of all, he knows a certain lizardess has a plan. Armor and red robes are the attire of the day, all business, and for once no frills. Clearly he's expecting this to go badly. Standing beside Ainsley, shining a flashlight into dark stairwell, his tail grips the lizard's briefly. "We shall overcome." He states simply enough, vote of confidence in her plan given. His Blaze Gun is held in his free hand, and the Esper Ifrit lurks just behind the rat to add a bit more light...and burning...to any unfortunate undead wanting to accost his love.
Emiya Shirou	The opportunity to cleanse out more undead and prevent a horrific rot from spreading and claiming lives is easily one that catches Shirou's attention. He's all dressed up in KNIGHTLY PLATE ARMOR (courtesy of Santa Claus) that's thrumming with magic - reinforced, no doubt, rendering the elven-forged steel harder than diamond. In fact, faint traces of prana are flowing through him more than normal for all he's unarmed. It's most pronounced for his eyes, arms, and legs. Maybe someone will be sensitive enough to notice, maybe not. But he's improving over time. "Hopefully. But what's the plan?" he's standing behind Faruja, flashlight attached to a belt instead of in use. Why waste battery when there's this GIANT BURNING SPIRIT over there... What he plans to do without a weapon is anyone's guess, but by now some people are probably more than familiar with his strange way of dealing with being 'unarmed.'
Staren	A LITTLE WHILE AGO, STAREN'S LAB Staren's optics open and he gasps as he sits up on the table. Something feels terribly wrong. He shakes his head, swings his legs out over the edge, and hops off -- then stumbles and crashes into the back of a nearby shelf, which creaks ominously but doesn't fall. The pain isn't much, but something is /definately/ wrong. It's okay, Staren. This has happened before. You can deal with it. Body-swapping technology has its issues. You know what to do. But that doesn't ease the sense of dread in his mind. Carefully, he scrambles back onto the table and lies down. He awakens standing atop a hill, staring up at a night sky with three moons. A random planet in the procedurally-generated Seed world he uses to test FullDive programming. Had to unload his mind to somewhere else so he can try interfacing with the robot again. Was the first idea he thought of. He takes a few deep breaths, and closes his eyes. Staren opens his eyes. Something feels wrong, but it's... a fainter, more distant sense of dread this time, and he's able to stand up and walk to the armory without incident this time. Although, every time he passes a shiny surface, he catches himself, thinking 'Wait, am I already wearing armor? No, you're a robot stupid, pay attention!' NOW, AZTLAN Staren arrives at the entrance to the tunnel, suited up for heavy combat. Cyborg armor from his world, with the distinctive skull-faceplate replaced by a transparent-visored helmet -- synthetic skin covers Staren's neck and head underneath, giving the appearance of someone simply wearing armor. (References for the armor can be seen in the second pose of http://multiversemush.com/mw/index.php?title=WMAT_B1_Staren_vs._Vendetta -- posting image links here will make the images display in the log.) Inga's talisman is worn around his neck. Though not exactly feeling at ease, Staren forces a smile and waves to people. "Hey." Actually, the sight of familiar faces /does/ make him feel a little better. After Shirou chimes in, Staren looks to Ainsley and pulls off his helmet. "What /is/ the plan, exactly? Just... eliminate monsters and then evacuate survivors? Not that that isn't enough, but... /is/ there more to it?"
Kotone Yamakawa	Kotone had heard them speak about trying to find a defence against the flith over the radio today. It was a good idea yet? She wasn't so sure machines were immune. Just het ghost whispering to her for lack of a better temr but once more into the mouth of hell she goes once more and seems to be very well tense but then again she knows all the horror that were just stories when she was a child are real somewhere. Every last one and thigns she'd not even been able to understand. She was armed and ready as she was ever going to be and in the back of her mind she thinks, she needs to get stronger but she gets she's pushing the limits of her body as it is, she has to wonder about a subject that was disturbing to her, getting a new body. that could wait for the moment as she arrives a bit after Staren and she's not alone. "The issue is are they infected...it's the Kingsmouth problem to a degree."
Inga Freyjasdottir	Naturally, Inga is here. She's been here for the beginning and she hoped she'd be here to see this end. Perhaps they will be able to find the source and stop it before it got any worse. The city? It might be a lost cause for a good while. Quarantined. Even she is entertaining the idea of burning the place to cinders. The Seer bears a mark of blood on her forhead, clutching the hammer pendant she wears as a ward against the Filth. "Everyone be sure you have your talismans...those who do not have one I will give a ward. It is necessary," she informs. Inga takes a deep breath and reaches out to gently touch Ainsley on the arm. "The gods see us. Let us do what needs to be done," she says. No use kidding themselves. This will be bad.
Riva Banari	Riva's back in business. Ish. She's moving gingerly through the area, her guns out as they look down the opening of the tunnel. The decorations cause her to frown. "Man, Ains, your people really need some advice on interior decorating." She comments. "Just be careful, okay? Since you're the only one with the directions, we need you to stay safe." She huffs and looks over those others present. "Okay, everyone! Let's keep it together and prepare to kick ass and take names! We can do this, people!" She fistpumps, preparing to get down an dirty as it were.
Quentyn Westwind	Unsurprisingly, Quentyn has his notebook and pencil out as he follows Kotone. But he's armed: both with a PDW at his thigh and his rifle slung across behind him. On top of that he has a small magitek lantern, currently off, hanging from his belt. For now, however, he's documenting little bits he might have missed the first time around, like the hoverbike. Ifrit's Esper presence seems to catch the white mage off guard, and his pencil dances across the page for a few moments before he tentatively confirms with Faruja, "Um, you're a summoner..?" Kid looks impressed. He takes a peek down the foreboding stairway and asks Kotone, "Um, do you want me to cast some shield spells on you..?"
Wuyin Tsai	Wuyin does not arrive with all the rest. He is not a member of the Union, does not have access to the same facilities and methods of transit and communication. He has come on his own, exchanging brief words with a scattered few about the next step to piecing together this puzzle. Crouching next to the busted vehicle, Wuyin spares a quick glance to the gathering party over the rims of his 3D glasses before going back to whatever it is he's doing. He tucks his phone away as they approach, standing and straightening. Rather than his typical hoodie, Wuyin is wearing a coat of what looks like leather plates, neatly fixed together into a sort of light armor. It's probably a little more than that, knowing him. "The Filth must have a source," he says. "It must be coming from somewhere. In Kingsmouth, it boils up from beneath the wounded Earth, and unless I miss my guess, flows inward from the Fog as well. Here..." He shrugs. "If we find the source, we can try to plug it. If it works, we'll have more knowledge for dealing with it in Kingsmouth, and in other places."
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga looks to Wuyin, nodding in agreement as she leans over her staff. "Mmm. If we can find the source we can plug it, as Wuyin says. I suggest hefty use of flame," she comments, glancing toward Faruja. She knows he wants to burn the corruption, and this time she's with him on this. Snowball fights indeed. Inga looks to Quentyn, moving over to him. She draws the knife from her belt and pricks her finger with it before saying, "Stay still," and attempting to reach forward to scrawl a symbol in blood somewhere on his person where exposed skin can be found. "This will help protect you, but I shall tell you what I tell others...if you see a black substance do not touch it. Try not to look at it. Do NOT try to study it. Indeed try not even to think of it," she informs.
Ainsley	"Wuyin did a good job of explaining, but I will reiterate: We are here to find if the Filth can be stopped. Otherwise this world will be in constant danger of this entity and the consequences of its presence." Like the madmen and weird freaky monsters. Ainsley reminds the party of this quite clearly, turning to regard them as a whole. She takes in the new faces -- Quentyn gets a lingering look, because he's a student and that triggers protective instincts she didn't know she had -- as well as the old. And then she breathes in and lets out a great big sigh. Those who have been here as friends or lasting allies get smiles each on their own. Inga's hand gets a touch, Faruja's tail gets a touch with the same hand. "I have a map of the first 'sector' of the underground. We will be searching it for clues for a source or an entry point. I'm told the worst of it is underground, so... that is where it is likely to be coming from." Then she turns and begins to walk down the stairs. ----- After a long walk down the stairs, the party steps out of the stairwell and into a massive hallway alit with very bright red crystals. It's almost like stepping into a dwarven underground road. The designs stop being generic mesoamerican down here, and take on smoother designs, like they had been tailored for the specific culture of the Quetzal. Feathers and imagery of Quetzal can be seen engraved along the blackened stone walls. The walls themselves look like they were carved out of volcanic glass and the engraved portions replaced with some manner of dark, porous stone. Blue fern-like plants grow along the edges of the road, casting a contrasting glow to the crystals, and vines creep up here and there, trying to strangle the crystals of their life magic warmth. The first thing that the party would notice is the stench. A cloying, awful assault on the senses that stinks of rot and, well, filth. This is because the creatures down here are not skeletons. They are partially rotted corpses, the ones that didn't crawl out of the deep and have their flesh burnt away by the sunlight. A curious thing, though, is that all of the undead down here have had their eyes gouged out, seemingly by their own claws. So when the party sees the wall of shuffling corpses between them and progress, they have some time to formulate a plan. "Heavens help us," Ainsley remarks, breathlessly, holding a sleeve up to her face and squinting in the direction of the dead horde. "Why are they all bunched up like that?" She coughs, and then steps away from the stairway for the others to step into the very roomy tunnel. "They're standing in the way..." she says, frowning heavily. She looks at the walls, and frowns even harder. "Bloody Quetzal design. We'll never be able to make out the sludge against this stone." She is not a fan of ominous black crystal/stone walls, in contrast to the race she's a part of.
Faruja	The armor's a bit odd, but Faruja has by now accepted Staren is the epitome of Things He Doesn't Understand. Thus, the cat-scientist gets a bow. Emiya, and his significantly higher magical 'scent', gets a look as well and his traditional bow. They both get to the most relevent question, and the Inquisitor stays silent when the good lizardess gets explaining. Inga and Kotone get similar bows, and Inga's advice taken...reluctantly. Thankfully his is in the shape of a cross, 'lest the rat may well spontaneously combust through sheer zealotry. Riva's enthusiasm grants the rat a weak smile. "Through our faith and purposes, none shall stand in our way!" Echoes the rat, trying to convince himself this won't go horrifically wrong. Quentyn is met with a bow, and a warm smile at the question. "Trial passed and officially sanctioned at the age of fifteen, Ser Westwind. Remind me to explain Ivalice's history on the matter some time. Extra credit, hmm?" Wink! And then Wuyin. Time to ask a particularly relevent question to those who know best in the party as a whole. "Canst this Filth be utterly destroyed rather than...plugged as ye say? For surely if it were to infect once, it may well return again." Inga's words have Faruja showing darn near every one of his sharp, pointy teeth. His tail pets his Blaze Gun, and Ifrit perks up at 'burn'. Down they go, and Faruja is already coughing and gagging. Ainsley points out the source, and a horrid shiver runs through him! Teeth grin, and he motions to Ifrit. "I say we cleanse the poor souls. A funeral pyre to send them to the Lord's side. And whatever cleansing abilities that can be brought to the fore without damaging the tunnel." Ifrit stands ready to bring down a column of fire, but lets the others get their input in.
Staren	Staren takes in the engravings curiously. All this is being recorded, of course. When he notices the stench, he turns off his sense of smell and, for that matter, breathing. It wouldn't do to inhale some sort of filth spores. Are filth spores a thing? /Man/, that would suck. Upon sighting the zombies, Staren immediately raises his arm... then hesitates. "...Why aren't they attacking us?" He shrugs. "I am fine with just blowing them up. Err... I have magic and plasma options that won't bring the tunnel down on us, I mean." He looks at Ainsley. "I'll keep an eye out for any infrared anomalies -- maybe the Filth will show up that way."
Kotone Yamakawa	Kotone Yamakawa looks at Quentyn for a moment. "I'm afraid we'll need what Inga can do to ward against what we're dealing with. Just trust her and know I trust her." She notes for a moment " "Still extra warding against physical or general magical harm isn't a bad idea." She looks to Wuyin and nods in agreement. "Like what we found on priest island but if it's that bad we got a big problem. Good point Wuyin." She looks to Ainsley for a moment and nods a bit. "I'll keep my own system mapping as we go." She pauses for a moment and she's got her pistol out now it laser sight adding a littl light to things. "We havne't been able to purge them and it's Ainsley's call." She adjusts her wepaons and she looks back to Ainsley for a moment it is her friend's call after all.
Quentyn Westwind	Quentyn can't help but flinch at Inga's touch, but that aside, he at least /tries/ to remain still. Though he looks uncomfortable... but Faruja's words at least get a smile from the boy, followed by a nod and a thumbs up. And just before the party travels down, Kotone gets the Quentyn suite of buffs: Protect, Shell, Stoneskin, and Blink, the effects of each momentarily enveloping her before fading away. As the party travels down, Quentyn tries to hastily capture as much of the Quetzal imagery as he can, but he doesn't slow down. When they get to the walking corpses, his nose wrinkles... but he puts the notebook away, pulling out his sidearm instead. But the student looks to the others for direction. He nods his agreement with Faruja once more, but doesn't attack himself.
Wuyin Tsai	Not until Transylvania, Staren. Wuyin walks along with the ragtag group, staying somewhere near the middle. He doesn't make any effort to speed up or slow down, but doesn't seem terribly interested in rushing ahead this time, either. He shrugs a shoulder at Faruja's query. "I imagine anything can be destroyed with enough effort and creativity," he remarks. "The fact of the matter is, we do not know what the real source of it is, or the 'what' or the 'why' of it. It's..." He goes quiet when he spots the wall of undead. Wu looks into the horde. "Their eyes," he murmurs. "Are they clustered around something...?" He puts a hand to the metallic effigy hooked to his belt, looking thoughtful. "Shouldn't use fire, if we don't know the state of any ventilation shafts in the tunnels. The hard way, then." He extends his right hand, cupping it and curling his fingers around a glimmer of amber light. It turns icy blue. Wuyin tosses the 'ball' into the midst of the undead. It hits the ground and rises a foot off the ground, a twisting stand of ice beneath it. The orb flashes white, and a wave of cold rushes in either direction down the corridor, putting a sheen of frost on the floor -- and, more importantly, creating thick and jagged ice around the feet and lower legs of all the creatures caught in it. The orb goes dark. A few seconds later, the glow starts to build again...
Emiya Shirou	"Trace... on." Shirou digs through his memories to call upon the memory of a fitting scythe. Prana flares wildly from his palms and takes shape over the span of a few seconds. When it 'cools' he's left holding THANATOS, the Scythe of the Grim Reaper, a most excellent anti-undead weapon. "If they're not attacking they must be focuseed on something else?" He's sticking close to Faruja for the moment. And Ifrit. Because light. And protection. But Wuyin's remark makes him frown. Great, no fire?
Riva Banari	Riva is not liking this as soon as they go down. She does look over the area with an appreciation as they reach the lit area, and gasps in surprise. "Wow, this is..." And then she wrinkles her nose. "Ugh... In real need of being cleaned up. Total gross." She mutters... And then she sees the reason. Riva immediately stumbles backwards in surprise. "Whoooaaa nelly." She hisses. She looks left, and then right. "Well, if they can't see us, maybe we can... go around them somehow?" She shrugs. "If not, there's only one thing we can do." She racks the slides on her guns Meaningfully. "Maybe if we can find the source and destroy it. It's not native to this world, so maybe we can find a way to clear it out before it takes hold permanently." Faruja's suggestion gets a nod. "Cleansing flame is good..." she says... And then she pauses. "Oh, that's a good point, Wu." Riva replies. But then Wuyin starts right in. riva follows with a barrage of Anima bullets stepping forward to start raining down hell upon the horde of undead. Mass of fire might help thin this out.
Faruja	"Then we need information." Responds the rat to Wuyin. But the man /does/ have a point regarding ventilation. After the euphoria of potential fiery cleansing from the rest of the party, he sighs, then waves a hand towards the undead. Rather than fire, it's a large hunk of rock that Ifrit seems to grab out of seemingly nowhere. Those with more magical senses? The thing is reaching into whatever realm it comes from. Followed by simply chucking the Large Rock at the undead in an attempt to smash them to death. Other than that? Faruja can't do much. Most of his available attacks right now are fire based! At least Shirou has some protection in the form of meatshield Ifrit.
Inga Freyjasdottir	Oh good, her favorite part of any foray into the underground--stairs. With a sigh, Inga descends. Up would be worse. If she had Wuyins careless disregard for death and returning, she's just kill herself and appear elsewhere to save some trouble. Upon reaching the bottom the smell of rot and death hits her like a wall, causing the witch to wrinkle her nose. Its all the joy of a bloody battlefield cooped up into a tunnel away from fresh air. Lovely, just lovely. Her eyes narrow as the approach of the wall of under, her hand tightening on her staff. "I am in agreement with Sir Faruja," mark your calendars. Inga steps forward, watching as Wuyin uses his anima to conjure some sort of ice magic. Alright then, that is handy. The witch raises her staff, beginning to gather her own anima. The undead are all grouped together handily. How convenient. "Let us clear a path. I regret this my be quite loud," she warns, the smell of ozone filling the air, static electricity setting hairs prickling. A bolt of lightning is released--chain lightning, zipping between targets, moving from one creature to the next to the next...grouped all together as they are, it ought to be quite damaging. It is also incredibly noisy and blindingly bright.
Ainsley	The undead are not meant for battle. They seem to actually be less dangerous than the skeletons, because when frozen to the ground they can't really tell what froze them. They just sort of stumble over each other, taking swipes at whatever bumps into them in a way that interrupts the flow of the crowd. The orderly chaos just becomes pure chaos when bullets, lightning, stone... a barrage slices through the crowd. It leaves the undead as just plain dead, sprawled out to either side of the road where the stone had driven them to either side like a miniature Red Sea. Smoke rises from the bodies here and there, framing the sight of what they were gathered around. A large chamber deeper under the center of the city. It's a plaza of some kind, filled with banners and market stalls, all ruined by the horrific event that hit this place. The stonework remains undisturbed, but that's the only positive part of this. As they step out into the plaza, they find it is littered with pools of coagulated blood. Like a warzone without the crows to clean it up, there are scorch marks and weapons and signs that the inhabitants fought tooth and claw... with each other. Living, breathing people had done this, because there are bodies draped here and there in the positions they would naturally rest if they had attacked each other. Some of them lack their opponents... and all of the sprawled dead remain still, undisturbed, like they were strong enough to fight off the taint that floods this place. Their bodies have hardly seemed to have rotted at all. Many of them are decorated with improvised blood runes, visible over most of their bodies because the Quetzal dress code seems to lack much in the way in modesty, with skirts or loincloths and basic jewelry being the popular choice. The runes resemble runes that were seen on the Warrior... And at the very center of the room, there is a terrible sight. A heavy, thick column of stone stretched from the dark ceiling down to the floor, and bubbling blood pools around a concave area at its base, like a fountain. The blood writhes and hisses and whispers... and the fountain is fed by a painting stretching around the column. A temple. Hundreds of nondescript black figures are prostrate before a single figure in red. The red priest has a hole missing in his chest and his eyes seem to leak this blood. He holds a book under one of his arms, painted of a black deeper than any shadow. The painting is done over a more serene figure of a female Quetzal, holding a sword in one hand, with her eyes blindfolded. There are images all over the painting, scribbles and runes. It pulses with power and malice, and gives the viewer a headache just from a glance. The runes are mad scrawls in glowing black ink, showing distorted imagery of the Illuminati, and a rough symbol of Solomon Island's town crest, as well as various latin phrases that make absolutely no sense at all. When Ainsley steps into the clearing to see this, she walks right up to the column and stares up at it for a good three or four, seemingly unmoved by the maddening influence. She's not really reading or examining it that closely. "I think this is it." Her eyes follow the column right up to the ceiling. "It's right underneath the temple..." she murmurs.
Staren	Can't use fire? Oh, right. It's not that he forgot others couldn't breathe -- Staren's so used to the idea that you bring your own atmosphere and an environmentally-sealed suit to something like this, that the risk of burning away the oxygen didn't occur to him. You just don't /go/ into spaces like this if you can't handle it -- This adventure is SO against OSHA, to be sure. "Hrmm." Staren frowns at the rune-inscribed corpses. Could they rise up, as the Warrior did? Staren then sees the pool of blood. And the column, with a picture of... "Why is this /here/? Was there some kind of cult living under--" And then he notices it was painted over. And the black scribbles. He raises his hand to cover his eyes and turns away. "MEMETIC HAZARD! DON'T LOOK!" He shouts. If people don't suddenly start turning into monsters or anything, then after a brief, awkward silence, he says, "Okay, what's the best way to completely annihilate this place? I'd use large quantities of explosive, but then we'd collapse part of the city... although, I guess noone lives here anymore anyway..."
Faruja	Faruja coughs, gags, and very nearly coughs up his lunch at the feeling of pure /evil/ radiating off of the painting and room. He falls to his knees for a moment, stunned at the sheer magnitude. Then? As Ainsley approaches the column, he reaches into his robes. Five molotov cocktails, and a lighter are pulled out. He looks back to Riva. "In case the bloody thing hurts her." He states to the woman. She seems like she knows how to use those! Seems the rat came with plenty of fire in mind. Taking STaren's advice, the rat smartly looks /away/ from the symbol. Less smartly? A glance to Shirou. "Ser Shirou? Lady Riva? Please ensure nothing makes a meal of me, hmm?" Then, he'll kneel beside the column, magic glaring around him to try to peer into the past to see just what may have happened here.
Quentyn Westwind	Quentyn doesn't add his own bullets to the maelstrom that takes down the undead, but he keeps his weapon in his hands as the party advances. ...and comes to a halt as the biggest city's revealed. And the blood-oozing painting, among other things, but that holds the boy's gaze for the longest. Quentyn just kind of stares at it, morose, for a while, not paying too much attention to the others. Then at Staren's shout he snaps his gaze away, free hand clutching his head for a moment while he winces.
Kotone Yamakawa	Kotone Yamakawa has to wonder about the undead but she's going to figure out something else but the others deal with them she saves her own ammo at this point she's got far less than some of her allies do and she does seem tto mind he does keep an idea about this place being dangerous but she has to wonder what it was like before hand. She notices the blood /everywhere. there's nothing here to clean things up no vermin to eat the fallen and she notices the runs the laughter and she takes a moment wondering about this and she looks ahtead at the painting wondering about it. Kotone looks away from the script a split second before Staren shouts out his warning and then his desire to nuke it ot the bedrock. "...This stuff's bad news, but how did it even get here...and how long /has/ it been here?"
Riva Banari	The aftermath of the undead destruction is deafening in its silence. Riva walks forward through the fumes and smoke, waving a hand in disgust. "Why is this always so /nasty/." She grouses. They proceed forward, walking into the underground bazaar to see another vision of horror. Riva pales, looking a little nauseous. "I hate this. I really hate this." She mutters. She steps forward, threading her way through the pools of blood as she looks over the area. It's clear from her expression that she's got no idea what she's actually looking at. "Ainsley, you're going to need to tell us what we're supposed to be seeing here and what's off. It's your home turf." Finally, she turns towards the painting, and she stops stock still. She stares at the images of the painting, her head turning just slightly as connections are made and understanding begins to grow. "Memetic hazard... Kingsmouth... Illuminati... It's obvious. Whoever that asshole is in the picture /brought it here/." There is a flash of crimson-gold as Riva pulls something from behind her. There, in her hand is a hefty two-handed mace in the shape of the symbol of the Ajoran faith. It is incised deeply with silvery alloy that seethes with that same gold-crimson Anima light in the strange patterns of an Anima Circuit. Riva charges, her eyes burning as she drags the mace behind her at high speed, Sparks flying as it glances off of the stone floor as she charges straight forward, straight through the pools of blood, over the corpses, and straight for that seething painting of evil. "RAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" Riva yell, hurling herself into the air with superhuman effort and bringing the hammer-mace around in a spinning strike for the center of the painting.
Inga Freyjasdottir	The sight that greets them when they move on is not like anything she's seen outside of visions. A painting? A painting that cries blood that flows into a pool like a fountain. The blood is...wrong. The symbols drawn are /wrong/. They're written in-- And there it is. Staren yells 'memetic hazard!' but in case anyone doesn't know what that means, Inga sees fit to add; "Do not try to read it! Do not look at it overlong!" she shouts. Faruja moves forward and goes to his knees, casting some sort of spell....OH SHIT is he trying to scry!? "Faruja no!" she says, trying to pull him back before it is too late. Perhaps if he is not focusing on the Filth...no, best to be safe. Inga wants to know very badly what can be done about the Filth. It is a source of constant frustration that she must try not to study it. She's burned it out of one person's mind and would rather not try to do it again. She remembers the way it trickled from Harry's ear with a shudder of revulsion and remembered fear. "I agree with Staren," what a day "I think this city is lost." Inga sighs, reaching inwardly. She does not concentrate on the Filth, but rather the strands of fate-memory that may be present in this place. Perhaps the path will draw her backward-- Then Riva is pulling a mace from somewhere and goes chargin in, sceaming. "Well, alright," Inga mutters.
Emiya Shirou	Anything that did get too close to Faruja has to deal with the Grim Reaper's scythe, the touch of which brings peace. Yes, it even soothes the dead, not just the dying. UNfortunately Shirou's jsut not really smart enough to quite grok what he's seeing when the group finally finds the strange... rotten... 'temple.' If you can call it that... "What the--!!!" He gapes and goes wide-eyed for a bit, just scanning all about, only to wince and scrunch up his body the next moment. But off goes Riva and now Faruja's doing something else?! He rapidly looks about like some kind of clueless moron. What exactly's he supposed to DO now that they're here? Well, he doesn't know what he's doing, so that's only expected.
Wuyin Tsai	Wuyin expects to see something that is not... this. He steps out into the room, his red and blue lenses keeping where he's looking largely concealed. It is safe to say that he isn't going to look too hard at the mad writings all around them. He has a survival instinct after a fashion, and he doesn't know if the Filth will override it. ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss Frowning, Wu suddenly looks to his left, taking a sharp turn and raising a palm full of anima much like the last one. He doesn't see anything moving there. His frown deepens. He turns again in the same direction, scanning their surroundings. He looks up. He looks down. Nothing. ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss The sound gets louder. It sounds, to him, like it's starting to echo in the room. He cannot find the source of it. It's a sort of hissing, like gas, but the pitch is getting louder. His head is starting to hurt. It's a dull throbbing, spreading across the top of his head. "Where the hell is that noise coming fr--" ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss He stops. Noise. Wuyin reaches up, grabs the earbud stuck in his left ear, and yanks it out. It dangles off the frame of his glasses. The tiny speakear is getting louder and louder. ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss Louder still. Can you hear it? sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss- A voice issues from the tiny speaker, somehow loud in the chamber. It's a man's voice, on the deeper end of the scale, speaking in a whisper. "I am the pirate signal -- let me in." There's a pause. It's barely a beat. The man's voice comes again, confident and full of false, friendly warmth but with an edge of electronic distortion. It sounds like he's addressing someone. Who? "Hiya, Chuck. Finally come to visit? You never did drop by the summer home-home-home."
Ainsley	Ainsley turns toward Faruja as he begins his spell, and begins to step toward him. She gets only a few feet before Inga is already getting him to stop, and she frowns a little at the sight of it. Her brow knits as she regards him, though she can't really be mad at him for trying to do something he's good at. She puffs a sigh, turning to regard the ... general vicinity of the painting. Particularly the blood, which looks awful and even alive. Riva charges at the painting. Nothing gets in the way of this until the very last second, when she leaps at it. The moment is a flicker, when she tries to strike the wall with the mace. It results in the blood SNAPPING up out of the basin below and crawling up the pillar as if flowing in reverse. And the mace would just stick into that painting, and hands would begin to emerge from the column, skeletal and oozing black, trying to grab her or claw at her viciously in a shockwave from the point of impact. A fact that only lasts for a moment, until she would inevitably retreat from the inexplicable grasping claws. The blood would retreat... and the painting would remain, undisturbed. The blood in the basin hisses from the impact of Riva's weapon, actually combusting here and there while the shock of this event begins to fade. Ainsley is aghast after that. She remains like this for a second, until her feathers begin to puff up, and she turns to walk toward Staren and prod him firmly in the chest when she reaches him. "We are not destroying this place," she tells him, "No. It is not happening." She freezes when she notices Wuyin's activities. When he tugs the thing from his ear, she's reminded of something she once heard, something that she hasn't heard for months. Something that rattled her brain and made her eyes bleed when she fought its oppressive nothingness. Her hand lowers and she grows still, listening intently and with eyes widened by horror. She chokes out one word. "What...?" Ainsley is transfixed by a horror only seen in her eyes, those eyes fixated on the earbud that the sound is coming from.
Faruja	Thank Faram for witches. Faruja is yanked back from doing something incredibly stupid. And then he's puffed at. Damnit. "...Right." Faruja's scowling for a moment, clearly put out at not getting to the bottom of this. But he'll trust those who know better here. That voice has a Blaze Gun raised at it instictively, though luckily Wuyin's earbuds are yet to be greeted by fire. That voice feels as though it's crawling in his brain. Every fur on his body is on edge, and the rat can't help but snarl. "WHOM IN THE BLOODY ABYSS ART THEE, WITCH! OUT WITH IT SINNER!" Leave it to a priest to react with accusations of godlessness and near-violence. Then he spies Ainsley. A look to Wuyin as he moves towards Ainsley, keeping between the man and her. "Make that stop /NOW/."
Quentyn Westwind	Hoodie shifting a little as Quentyn still rubs the side head still, he pauses first at the... thing... that comes out of the painting, blinkblinkblinking and starting. But then he looks over at the earbuds as noise starts to come from them. And then the voice. His mouth opens a little, closes again, and the student looks to others for explanation. The student thinks it's /weird/ but he doesn't look like he understands the significance of it. Although watching Faruja does start to give him an inkling of that. "Um... who's Chuck?"
Kotone Yamakawa	Kotone Yamakawa just stops in more than a little bit of awe as Riva deals with the horrible painting or tries to, wait what the heck is happening she's not looking too hard but the paintuing just defended it self. Ainsley's reply is not entirely unexpect but she wonders should Kingsmouth be nuked but America may know what's going on and hastent it could be nuking for lack of a better term might make it worse. Then something comes, there's a chill of fear things Kotone has lost haunt her there's almost a chill to her blood and her spine shivers something dark is here and it's scaring her. She backs off a bit from Wu at this point but is keeping her weapon lowered. "Other than an old comic character on my world, I don't know." A Cosmic horror that likes Peanuts that would be the day. She seems uneasy even after Quentyn's question she also sees things are way over her head. If there'sd no surivors and the place is a hell mouth? Then agian would she give up on her home? The answer is no she wouldn't.
Inga Freyjasdottir	% Inga shudders as the voice is heard, squinting her eyes shut in vain against its intrusion. The pirate signal? Inga groans, reaching to touch the iron of her blade in a gesture of warding, murming a prayer to Thor. "Protect us against the utgard-voices, give us strength of will and arm," she prays, holding the fear at bay. No one was getting infected today if she had any say in the matter. Inga looks toward Riva, gasping as the blood rears up in defense of the painting, along with oozing skeletal claws. Inga resits the urge to retch. More nightmare fuel to add to the already cosiderably full barrel. "Riva!" she cries, instictively cutting herself open with the knife she holds in order to flick out a shimmering crimson barrier that would both protect Riva and help heal her wounds even quicker than her already excellerated healing would. It seems the painting cannot be damaged so easily. Inga frowns, beginning to move toward it, her magical senses sharped, looking for any clues that might help her break through. The blood, is that the key? She knows better than any the power blood magic holds. Could they cleanse it without enough anima? All the while, she struggles not to look at the symbols or to let the signal hack her consciousness. Work to be done. She /must/ concetrate!
Staren	Staren turns and glares at the earbud. "YOU!" And then he remembers what Riva was doing and, at the /lack/ of resounding smash, he turns again... "Riva!" He tries to rush over and pull her away. "It doesn't matter, Faruja! Stopping the sound won't make it stop!" He turns back towards the speaker. "We don't want you here! You were never invited! Go away!" He looks around at the group here. "We have to destroy it! Fast!" Without waiting for further suggestions, he turns and fires a plasma missile at the base of the pillar, trying to burn the blood/filth in a massive plasma fireball, because this needs to stop NOW!
Riva Banari	Riva doesn't hear ANYTHING at the moment as she slams into the protective blood barrier. It sticks, and Riva yells as she twists, slamming again and again with burning waves of Anima into the skeletal hands. For a few seconds it seems to be a race to see what will give up first, the unholy barrier or Riva's sudden burst of anger. Riva gives up first, as she backpedals, finally, when she begins to tire out. She pulls backwards, the skeletal hands clawing at her and shredding through the blood barrier from Inga. With a frustrated growl, she wins free, breathing hard as the Anima Circuits grow dim on the weapon, having spent most of her currently available energy. She doesn't resist as Staren pulls her back... And then she tilts her head, pulling out an earbud from her own ear, a fancy wireless bluetooth type that hooks into her phone. "God damn, what's that noise?" She pauses as she hears the voice, and she scowls, pocketing the earbud. "Just when we thought it couldn't get worse. What the hell..." She looks over to Ainsley. "Quick Ainsley! Where do we go from here?" The answer might be interrupted by ASPLOSIONS.
Wuyin Tsai	"Pleased to meet you," the man says. "I'm the message. I'm John. Nothing fancy." Wuyin fumbles with the connection. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, finding an audio program running. He kills it. It doesn't stop the voice. "You know, Chuck, that isn't a real nice way to talk to your ol' pal-pal-pal. These people didn't like to talk, either. So, Chuck, let's talk now, you and me. Let's talk about idolatry." With a deft hand, Wuyin continues trying to take control of his phone. He swipes his hand across it, disabling all possible connections. The icons go dark, one by one. Without missing a beat, John keeps talking. "It's not as bad as you think, Chuck. Your people do it all the time. It might not be a giant golden head, or things dropped from the sky, but it's all the same at heart. I don't judge, Chuck. If you want to sing praises to the electron and the switch, or the diamond-studded sacrifices walking down blood-red carpets, or the voices you hear, buzz-buzz-buzzing and one-eyed, that's fine. More power to you." With that failing, Wu turns the phone over, trying to get it open. He fiddles with the case. It looks complicated; these things are all but indestructible. "It's too bad. Some people don't like your idols. You shall not make for yourself a graven image, Chuck. Isn't that what they said? Harsh words, written by men who knew how to listen. Or how to lie-lie-lie." He finally gets the case open. Wuyin puts his fingers to the sides of the battery. "But maybe God would like one of these electric idols of yours, too. The artist listened to me when I mentioned it, but he didn't ask Him. Didn't do Him a favor. And God didn't stop him from burying his other work six feet deep, right in His backyard." The battery comes out. John's voice begins to fade. It's difficult to tell if the loss of power did it. His voice is merry, laughter touching his warm tone. "See you, Chuck..." Wuyin slowly lifts his head, holding his disassembled phone and staring at the picture in the center of the room.
Kotone Yamakawa	Does not think too hard sure Wu and Riva seem to be undying and in a way that's a hell of it's own she gets if the flith were to get them? They'd never be free and that's why Kotone acts even as Wu fights with the phone to shut it off she breaks into a run heading right for Wu, flying right at him in a full out tackle and will move to forcaly cover his eyes, note she is far heavier than she looks or a human of her build would be.
Ainsley	Ainsley stares with that vacant horror as 'John' speaks to the group through that earbud. But it has an identity, an identity she can perceive. And some part of her seizes on that, as she regains her sense and her courage. Her mouth wilts into a powerful and scornful frown, her eyes big lights on her face casting a look that would sear flesh if she actually knew how to cast those eyebeams. (She has been trying. It's not easy!) Her brow furrows when she hears a specific phrase from the voice, something very specific that seems off from the rest of what he's saying. She turns her gaze back to the painting, or briefly around it. Almost as if on cue, the burnt blood would begin wafting an awful scent, a chemical-like smell. Because the blood isn't just blood. Something mixed inside of it. Inga would find the blood is tainted, and that it is full of paint. It responds to her senses in this way. Ainsley regards Riva, the powerful frown fading for something like a restrained intensity. "We should leave, before that filthy thing decides to speak up again. Come." She urgently waves at the rest of the party, and she moves to avoid the rest of the carnage around her. "We have no more business here."
Inga Freyjasdottir	John just keeps on talking. Inga remembers. He'd tried to get into her head. He'd tried to tempt her with an image of herself...different. What is he after now? Though mad, the words are still interesting. Idols? Tch! He's talking about Christians. Inga hisses to herself. Electronic idol? The...phone? What is John talking about? Inga shudders, but forces herself to concentrate. It is the blood. Something is...off. It is not only blood. "There is...pain in the blood," she comments, nose wrinkling. Inga looks to Ainsley, frowning. "We will not try to destoy it?" she asks.
Ainsley	As for the missile? It had a similar effect to the mace, but messier. It slams into the blood, and the explosion doesn't get far before the blood GLOPs and bony hands drag the /fire itself/ under the blood, and acrid smoke billows up from the spot. The missile left a spatter of blood(paint???) there around the basin. It was probably not the best way to destroy it. Ainsley just wheels around at Staren and shouts at him, "STAREN. Next time, think before you act." She points at the pillar. "That pillar is supporting the ceiling of the whole chamber. Several dozen feet of rock, buildings, not to mention a temple full of GHOSTS that would be VERY MAD AT US if we destroyed their temple, would come crashing down on us in seconds." She makes a loud frustrated 'GAAAH' noise in quite a lizard-like fashion, and turns to leave, throwing her hands up over her head. It seems she /is/ leaving. "This is the wrong place to break this ... link, anyways. It would be like chipping away at a mountain."
Quentyn Westwind	While Quentyn is frowning at the earbuds/phone more or less the whole time, he still just doesn't quite seem to get it. But, as John talks, a puzzled Quentyn holsters his weapon and pulls out his notebook again. He might not understand what's meant by God wanting an electric idol or where His backyard is... but maybe this might be clearer later. The pen scratches against paper. Then Kotone tackles Wuyin. Quentyn blinks, looks around to see if there's anything incoming (not having noticed where Wuyin was looking, it seems)... then looks back to the two. "Um..." Instead of questioning it, aether visibly gathers around the mage and then a green aura surrounds the tackled man before fading. But if he gets any scrapes or bruises, those will mend. Quentyn hesitates uncertain, then moves to follow Ainsley.
Staren	Staren's eyes just widen as the blood EATS the explosion. That... what... how... Ainsley chastises him. He sighs. "That's why I used the BURNING missile instead of the BLAST-THINGS-APART one..." he starts to stare back at the blood, then remembers and turns away, and sighs. "So this fountain of blood isn't the source, and we need to keep looking?"
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga frowns, looking to the painting, looking to see if the place is familiar. "Perhas we need to find what is pictured here," she comments.
Wuyin Tsai	Wuyin finds himself on the ground, a bit battered but mending, both from Quentyn's intervention and some other effect or another that's less clear. He blinks a couple of times, and grunts, "I appreciate the thought, but I wasn't entranced. Would you mind?" He does not want to be squished on the ground. Maybe the fluids and corpses will try and kill him while he's there if he sticks around too long. He has not lost his phone in the fall. When he gets back up, he puts it back together again. No voices issue from it. Small reliefs.
Kotone Yamakawa	Kotone Yamakawa does move to get off Wuyin and lkooks a bit sheepish. "I'm sorry just after that I didn't want anything to happen!" She will move to get off him look more embrassed and be redy to head out with everyone else.
Riva Banari	The group is a sort of captive audience to John as he speaks. She sits there, fuming for several moments as it all gets laid out. Riva shakes her head and frowns. "I guess that kills the direct method." She says, as even Staren's attempt to break the painting fail. "There's some deep voodoo going on here and we don't seem to have a counter for it." She taps her foot as John speaks, however. "What if..." She says... And then grunts in frustration again. "Ugh, Maybe the problem is buried around here or something. I don't even know. Anyway, let's go." Riva turns and lets Ainsley lead the way to the next horror, resting the big mace on her shoulder as they travel. "I'm really angry right now and I feel like I want to hit things."