Cold Bones

"...I would share words with you."

The scarleg had met with you at the edge of Wilderness Pointe. Refused to come to the City, the guild officer had expressed, before giving you directions. And it had taken an hour or so to get here, to cross the ferry over the glistening river, and then to make your way into the small, wild-leaning town that is Wilderness Pointe.

The scarleg. Rssva, he said his name was. At just over six foot, his silver-black, metallic scales suggest an age of least three to four hundred. "I came to share with you the words, and ssee if you agree." He quiets for a moment, then asks: "...what do you know of the old spirits?"

"I know how to track a boar, take it down clean, skin it, and cook the meat perfectly in a thick ale sauce." Brom answers Rssva. "... But spirits, not so much. Why?"

Rhodes has taken the trip out to help with whatever the problem is. At hearing 'old spirits', he opens his mouth as if to say yes, but... Wait... Old spirits? He simply closes his mouth as to not sound like a complete idiot. Hopefully someone else knows and will enlighten him on the matter.

Kiroth nods politely to the scarleg, "Good evening honored elder. That depends on what kind of spirit that you mean. I am happy to lend my expertise in the matter. How can I help you?" He asks and introduces himself, "I am Sunblade Kiroth."

Vuk knew about animated homocidal cooking ware! That is sort of like spirits, isn't it? Perhaps? No? Damn. "I know we should be wary of forest spirits and djin." He adds helpfully as he pats one of his wolf's ears and then doffs his top hat at those gathered. "Vuk Aleksy, Adventurer Extradionare at your service!"

Bennet frowns mildly. "Some. Can't say as I favor 'em. Few too many is them who's avoided The Lady's eye a bit too long... But, gotta admit, ain't all of 'em bad." He nods in agreement to the fellow paladin.

The mention of Dragons had piqued Schneider's interest, and he alleges to know a bit about spirits, so he followed along. With a glib step, surefooted and with a quick pace, he keeps up, eyes swivelling around to see what there is to see. "Old spirits? They're all around us, though as far as I know, they only make themselves known when it suits them? Some people, they'll talk to." His hair is drawn back by a breeze that seems to only affect him (a Prestidigitation effect, as the more technical folk would explain it).

"The old spirits. We call them sspirits. You ssoftskins have a different name for them, but the Essence cannot teach me it." His dark eyes glint in humor. He nods appreciatively to Schneider, and continues. "Your large-one iss correct. Some of the spirit have minds and some do not. Some are living, and some are not. The sspirits I share words with you tonight are those which share breath with us no longer. They are old, restless. ...very old, from a time uncounted in...in your hissstory. Do you undersstand this type?" he asks. He looks from one to the next of you, then looks expectantly to Bennt.

Kiroth nods as he continues to listen to the scarleg describe what is going on. "I do understand the type that you are speaking about, the undead. Do you know why they are restless, has someone disturbed or desiccated their graves. The dead don't rise again for no reason. There could be a necromancer behind this as well."

Vuk has fought the undead on several occasions! Unfortunately, he truly understands -very- little about them and he has never really heard them described like this.

Bennet frowns, but hesitates. "Can't say have met such a Spirit... but know of 'em." He nods to Kiroth. "Most. Rare few stick around to watch over their kin... -should- move on... but iffen they choose not to, don't cause no ruckus... well, is more dangerous types what need dealing with instead." Bending the rules doesn't come easy for a paladin, but there's always a loophole.

Brom strokes at his beard, frowning. "So... these old spirits. You want us to shoot 'em? Placate 'em somehow? What's the deal here?" "They have invaded a place holy to us. Warrior, we do the ceremonies and we sacrifice the Blood, but they are hungry, still. They are..."

Rssva shifts where he stands. He considers each of you in turn before settling on Schneider and Rhodes. "Devouring-spirits. They are sspirits which eat-the-ssoul. And they have invaded one of our sacred placess."

He leans forward, and draws his claws over his forearm. Slow circles. "Thiss site is not in Am'shere. It iss one the--/your/--union gave to us. A ssymbol of good will between our shamans, so the help we may call iss limited. If you agree with my words...we will perform the rites and light the fires. And you will ssslay them as Warriors." He adds, and looks up. His black eyes gleam. His hands pause their circling on his scales.

Vuk has a slowly sinking feeling he's going to be stuck in the woods for a while. "We'll give them cold steel will! Up and at them! Show the blackguards we do with trespassers! We agree at once! Utmost and due haste! We'll have them back in their graves with in the hour!" He says to Rssva.

Bennet the Absolution nods firmly. This is the sort of thing he signed up for. "I will bring them to the Lady's Mercy, with none of my own." Rhodes gives a nod along with Bennet, "Indeed, the Lady shall hold them close to her and they will devour no more souls." He looks over at Vuk, then gives Bennet a look of 'oh gods...'

Schneider's eyes light up at the mention of lighting fires and slaying things. This is somewhat literal - flames seem to dance in his eyes a moment as his lips spread in a sort of feral grin. "Yes!" he agrees. "We will slay these spirits. We will burn them with fire." He laughs, in a perhaps not entirely friendly-chuckley manner. Not quite a cackle, but in that direction.

The old scarleg nods abruptly, and steps back. Ice-grass crunches beneath his feet and his breath mists in the cold. So does yours. "I have arranged a guide. Meet him.../here/ tomorrow morning. It iss a long walk, and you will want to meet uss before the Fall-of-Night. Walk among the sspirits of the Ancestors, and ssharpen your blades. Beneath Dragons' Wings, warriors."

Kiroth nods to the scarleg, "We will defeat these warriors that linger upon your holy ground."

"So, we're goin' with the shootin' solution." Brom concludes, grinning toothily and adjusting his monocle. "Works for me!"

Schneider has nothing really to prepare. Nor does he particularly feel the cold, he's out there in breechcloth and boots and sword, and not much more, and he seems eager to get on with things. "Hey, let's get on with things!" Well, he says what's on his mind.

Bennet spends the time speaking with some people he's met, and sorta wishing he'd taken the time to speak with them more when he'd had the time. People who spend their lives taking the 'un' out of 'undead'. Most of what can be told in an afternoon is what the paladin already knows. But it never hurts to have a quick refresher. He's at the apointed spot early, his rifle loaded and ready.

Kiroth joins the others as they are preparing to leave and he is ready to go as well. He gives an encouraging smile to his companions . And so you go. You gather early (EARLY) at the edge of Wilderness Pointe. The wind howls and snow threatens. The grass crunches underneath, and it lends the air a brisk, clean smell. As you settle underneath the trees, it takes on the scent of forest, too.

The woods around Wilderness Pointe go for some miles and historically, have been home to any number of communities. Point is just the...call it the trading post. An entryway into an entirely different way of life.

While some of the paths through it are well-known, others are not. Your guide, a young sith by the name of Kruurvish, waits for you at a trail's entrance. He's younger and leaner than scarleg Rssva and stands near a small cart. Once you get closer, you can see that the cart is laden with a number of supplies, some of which rustle as the wind picks up and moves by.

Sith? I'd like to roll my Use The Force to steal his light saber.

Rhodes is okay with the morning, though while groggy when first setting out, by the time they meet their guide, the half-elf is wide awake. He gives a proper and polite node to Kruurvish when they arrive, and he curiously looks at the cart. "Going to be a long trip out to where the spirits are?" he asks curiously.

Bennet has been living in the city a while now, but not long enough to go soft. The cowboys has spent days with nothing but a horse and cattle, in some of the wildest lands the world has to offer. He's not concerned with some old woods; though that may change before this trip is over.

Schneider is not generally a morning person, but the promise of fighting and spirits and such has dragged him out of bed like little else can. He may even be wearing a fresh loincloth, though it's hard to tell. He is eating a roll, but is glad to see stuff in the cart for our use. "Looks like everything is planned out," he decides.

Brom trundles on alongside his trusty, slobbery landshark. The cart is briefly eyed, but the dwarf turns his monocled eye upon the woods quickly enough. He smiles. "These look like fine hunting grounds. No sign of foul spirits just yet."

Vuk will acquire a vial, because those generally hold useful potions, but he has his own haversack of supplies and brandy, he always offers to be the camp steward and comes prepared for it! Snow? Cold? Wind? He'll make a meal to chase that all away from the mind! Sadly, as of yet, he's never had the chance.

"The ssun will brush the other side of the trees by the time we arrive." Kruurvish's tail flickers. It moves with a touch of agitation, but then, he's a young sith. Rssva was old, and barely moved at all. After a moment, he takes a step back, and draws a long, flat-bladed...machete. It's a machete. "We will go."

Bennet eyes the Knife in apperication, his own Bowie-style blade at his hip. Too many of the locals have an oversized needle and dare call is a blade.

Vuk is actually fairly at home in the woods, more so because oh my Dana ADVENTURE! He's cheerful, happy, and every so often he stops to chitter to some one in the party before him and his wolf go racing off. Twice he comes back with a fat plump rabbit and he offers to prepare them into a 'damningly nice spot of stew'.

Rhodes gives a nod to the young Sith. "Then please lead the way so that we may help purify this site of yours." This was a rare treat to visit a Sith-maker holy site and the half-elf is eager to see it, and help. Maybe he'd be allowed to see a ritual performed there, that is if they succeed, and he doesn't die in the end.

Schneider has a passing familiarity with the wilderness. It doesn't bother him, at least, and he knows about trees and things. Green at the top, and fuzzy sometimes. Brown closer to the ground. Burns nicely, which is where it coincides with his interests. When Vuk bags a rabbit, he holds out a hand, in which a flame dances eagerly, and he asks, "Would you like it rare, medium, or incinerated?"

Kiroth brings up the rear as he is wearing heavy armor so he naturally moves slower then the others. He spots the vials and he looks towards the guide, "What are those?" He asks and he nods to Vuk, "Good hunting."

Vuk looks..like Schneider is a barbarian! "Good sir! You must skin them first, and then let them hang for at least two hours, and then rinse them in salted buttermilk.." This might explain why it looks like most of the pack space Vuk has, is crammed with things for cooking. "Preferably you would have more time to hang them..but we may not." He says and moves to tie the hares from his pack by their legs, they comically flop there, field dressed.

"Coldward. You'll need them ahead. ...eyess!" He has the voice of an old smoker, and a hard whack! against the brush muddies the end-word...and sends it snapping forward, and then--

--oh. Duck. /That's/ what he meant.

The path through the woods winds as you would expect such a path to. It's occasionally rocky or rooty, though mostly clear. You're perhaps a quarter-hour out of Wilderness Pointe by this time. Now and then, you could swear something's watching you. Some of the sharper eyed among you catch site of the occasional giant centipede. It makes hungry-tentacle waves at the rabbits Vuk seems to catch.

Brom barely has to duck. It's one of the advantages of being a dwarf. He just grins as the branch sails harmlessly overhead. And Laddie the Landshark? He's in heaven. Giant centipedes are among his very favorite treats. He gobbles a few down with a disturbing slurping sound.

WOOSH, the Branch just goes over Vuk and his wolf, you know, they're shorter, and slinky...but giant Centipedes? Those make Vuk a tad bit uncomfortable and he moves his rifle to rest against his lap, cocking the hammer back.

Bennet ducks well enough, though still has to catch his hat as the branch hits it. It's hard being tall, sometimes. But still, he's comfortable enough in the wilds... though giant bugs in winter get a long look.

Kiroth ahs a little bit, "I see." He keeps his shield up and he has his hand on his sword. "That doesn't seem right usually insects don't like the cold." Rhodes isn't that perceptive, but does notice some of the bugs every now and then. That's when the cleric keeps really close to the group, mainly so he doesn't get lost, but also, not eaten. "I honestly have no idea," he comments to Kiroth, but this winter is a little strange with that massive blizzard we had.

"Your shamans said there were old cities, here. Llyranesi? Sorry. I'm not as good with the old sstories." Kruurvish looks back towards Rhodes for a moment, before pushing ahead, and taking a swipe at another branch. This continues on for a while (with the occasional centipde looking at Vuk), with the path alternating between hard and rocky to rooty and hard, and your breath misting in the air in front of you.

No! Step off! Vuk eventually will wait till a centipede gets fairly close and then -shoot- it. "They should be hibernating." He announces right after! Looking like he just stopped a vile monster single handedly.

Kiroth looks at Vuk, "Careful you don't get eaten." He says as he keeps his sword and shield ready.

Schneider is slapped across his chest by the branch, and he grumbles, pushing it out of the way so he can pass. Schneider peers at the centipedes, and when one gets too close, he extends an index finger and calls out, "Flare arrow!" and a small dart of flame leaps out towards it. The thing is too big for that small zap to do more than scortch it, but it quickly loses interest in the party. A couple more flares and there is much less centipedery.

Bennet eyes Vuk a long moment. "...don't care how ya cook it. i ain't eatin no bug." ...and then there's a swift: "--Fungus-ridden--" Your guide snaps back as a branch suddenly, and sharply snaps forward. Heavy, laden with ice, there's a loud cracking no--"Eyes, eyeess--!"

CRACK. The sound echoes sharply in the forest-depth. Bits of ice snap from the trunk. Then another. CRACK.

"Laddie's got dibs on the bugs, anyways." Brom says chipperly. "Cheer up, lads. I'll keep my eyes out for boar. Now that's a proper man's dinner!" Then there's that cracking sound. The dwarf narrows his eyes and lifts his musket.

Vuk immediately begins standard Gobber tactics..he tries to find some one to hide behind! Him and his wolf dart along the line trying to find some one tall enough to slink behind. Safety. "Fungus Ridden? What do you mean Fungus Ridden?" He shouts out.

Schneider has missed the cracking thing, he's looking for more centipedes to scortch, holding his index finger and thumb in a sort of L shape and squinting into the underbrush. "Eyes? What? Where?" he wonders.

Rhodes blinks as he suddenly gets a call for 'eyes' which he remembers meaning 'duck'. And so the cleric goes down, well crouches down, arms over his head, not exactly sure what is coming at them in order to watch out for it.

Another snap. Another--CRACK! The overhead branch plummets to the ground not a few feet away from the sith and Schneider. Frost ridden and brittle, its branches crinkle and SNAP. Some break and go flying into feet and ankles. Others hit the pathway, the frost. The other trees.

...Except now it's blocking the path. Around you, a sort of stunned silence, the quiet and inquisitive call of a bird. Nothing else. Bennet blinks hard, and lowers his arms from protecting his face. "...looks like that coulda been bad..."

Kiroth moves towards the front and he has his shield up and ready. He looks around as the trees start to break up, "What's going on?"

Schneider gets a faceful of bracken and turfed up snow. This doesn't faze him. He simply asks, "This happen a lot?" He'll see if he can hop up and climb over it and keep moving forward.

Rhodes looks up and sees that their path is blocked. "What was that?" he asks quietly, not wanting to overly disturb the silence, or invite whatever it was back.

Nope, just nope. Vuk literally some how manages to dig him self down in the snow, leaving his wolf to lay right down beside where he dug down, his rifle slid into it, but he's decidly not going to charge about with exploding trees and un natural fungus. His hood is covering up the entry into his shallow pit.

Brom eyes the tree with a sudden frown, twisting his monocole as he leans towards it. "It's like something suddenly just made the tree so cold it... broke." He strokes his beard. "... Probably lingering damage from that blizzard last week. Probably."

"Spore-spit," the young sith growls after Brom speaks up. "We'll go around, but careful. Eyes, eyes." He slams the short blade home that he'd had drawn, and signals for you to make your away around the branch.

It's possible, but will need done carefully. Indeed, the path ahead--aside from the tree, looks mostly clear. Though due to the weather--and you're now all more cognizant of it--no few trees stoop from the ice and cold. The pathway is still the best way through the woods. ...At least there /is/ a path, and the trees are everywhere.

Vuk is no longer really dashing about, there's ..what ever the Guide is talking about, and exploding trees, and each time one explodes, Vuk is trying to burrow into the snow to hide from it. "The centipedes are infected, and we're worried about a vague notion of elder spirits!?'

Kiroth moves along witht he others when there is a snapping noise and he wince as he feels some ice dig into his leg. He brushes it off and there is some blood, "Don't worry tis just a scratch. Infected with what? What is going on some spores is causing the trees to explode?"

"Laddie says the infections just make 'em more flavorful." Brom declares with a grin.

Bennet makes his way around the fallen bit carefully, and makes a mental note to keep an eye open for more falling ice-stuff. But as yet, he's still not overly concerned.

Rhodes is careful as he walks around and follows after the young sith. "This is insane..." But he signed up for this, and for working for the guild. What does he expect. He keeps his feet under him though and that's the least of his worries, he figures. There's still whatever caused the ice, and the spirits they have to deal with.

By the time the sun reaches mid-day, the air has warmed enough that your breath no longer frosts...no, yes it does. Just a little less than it did this morning, and the cold, clear skies promise an early chill for the evening's festivities. It's good you've been walking for so long in some senses. Muscles burn, creating heat. But that heat does nothing to dispel Kruurvish's next words. He's smirking.

Or, you know. Trying not to show it. But, young sith. And young sith are /competitive/.

"Before we enter the site, we must cleanse ourselves. There is a stream a few feet that way--" he points. "It's close enough this trail floods during the summer, but right now, it should be clear enough for us to get there. You sstill have the vials?" He raises his chin, just the barest challenge. He thinks you can't do it.

"Woah, hold on now!" Brom raises his hands and frowns. "Cleanse? A proper hunter doesn't go bathin' in the woods! My natural beard musk allows me to blend in with the scent of the forest!"

Kiroth smirks a little bit as he puts down his sword and shield. "Would someone please help me with my armor." The only problem with taking off and donning fullplate is that it's a two person operation.

Vuk has been digging holes into the snow, so he's not sure how being -more- cold can even happen. "Indeed I did!" He says, holding up his vial he took earlier. "Do I just go and fill it up and pour it on my head?"

Bennet snorts softly, and leaves the vial where it lay. He does, however, offer a hand with the armor. His own chain isn't so bad, but enough to give the idea of how bad plate could be.

"You drink it." The guide lifts his chin, damn him. And when Brom speaks up, he gives a hiss in the back of his throat, before heading down to the stream. He was totally laughing at the khazad.

Totally.

Maybe Kruurvish will make it to scarleg, maybe he won't.

Schneider follows the others around the fallen tree, and grumbles at the news that this might happen a lot. Infection sounds bad, too, he decides, and he mutters a dark incantation, "Blood of heroes, blood of mine, hearty blows, all to thine." The veins in his arms and chest throb like rats are running around under his skin for just a moment, and then all is normal again.

On arriving at the site and being told to cleanse, he'll shirk off boots and breechcloth and swordbelt and wade in without a second thought. Apart from the first thought about not getting his actual gear wet. "Ah, brisk!" he says.

Rhodes gives a nod to their guide, "Yes, I still have it, and of course, bathing is just fine." He looks at Brom. "We are doing a favor, we can respect their traditions and customs." He waits until they get to the stream before he pulls out the vial, and works on removing his breastplate. "How far do we have to dress down? All the way?"

Vuk doesn't hear the guide -tell- him to get down to his nothingness over him, so he just sticks with..drinking the vial and recapping it! "Forward Men! To Battle! Stop ...being all..isn't that a -bad- idea in winter?"

It /is/ off the trail, for those of you who follow, but just by a few yards, just as the guide had said. He leads you to an open area where a stream winds through the woods like a crystal serpent. Clear and pristine, it shivers over its rock bed. It must be a branch of the great Tornmawr, to the east. Near this spot, there's a middle-aged scarleg. He winks at you as you near. On his arm are a number of rough-looking towels. And then clears his throat as Schneider jumps in.

"Kruvu ari-avika, va a Mictlan. Vmaaka vuri uru a krvsuuru." He leans down and whispers, "The People thank you. ...prosseed. ...the males first. The females, draw blade and turn. Even here it isss not-safe. Be on your guards." The scarleg then gestures to a spot on the bank where the women may take up the guard, while the men cleanse themselves in the frigid...frigid...water. Presumably, in a moment you will switch. "... One of ye is a female?" Brom looks startled and confused at this. He eyes each of his fellow adventurers for a moment, trying to figure out which one might be the female. He seems to suspect Vuk.

Rhodes chuckles as he gets down to his skivvies, drinks the potion and gets into the water. "Oooo, that's cold..."

Cold. ICE. How the river isn't ice, how you aren't ice? As each of you immerse, or splash, you feel the chill shoving against the magic the sith had gifted you with. It shoves, sharp and clear, swift and as unforgiving as slamming into a golem's fist. Here is nature at its most unforgiving and demanding, even to those of you who are 'used' to it.

Vuk narrows his eyes a bit at Brom when he keeps his eyes on him. "I just think this is a -very- poor idea." To be fair, Vuk is short enough even a shallow stream is still like, deeper then he is tall no doubt, because the GM is evil. "Can't I just dump the water over my head and avoid hypothermia? Eh?"

"No," says the scarleg. He gestures though, holding up the towels. "But you may make it sswift. No one unclean may enter Mictlan, or all this work will be for nothing." Bennet bites a lip at the talk of womens, but strips down and hops in swift enough. Back out again pretty swift too. The gunman might not be a spry as he used to be, but some things are a powerful motovation. Brom is eventually persuaded to strip down and enter the cold stream, even though he grumbles about his 'beard musk' the entire time. He is terribly hairy.

Schneider is already in the water, and indeed it's cold. Moving water takes longer to freeze than stationary water, he knows that, and moving water also takes heat away from you. There's also a bit of pride on the other end, about not letting anyone see you out of your comfort zone. At least not over cold water. Schneider wades in waist deep, which is a good ways, and has a calm bath, and he'll be the last one out, just to grandstand. He's really cold, but he'll be damned if he comes out less than immaculate. Little spirits of fire, like matchflames, surround him with a warm glow as he exits, drying him off quickly enough. Wizards would call this Prestidigitation, but Schneider thinks of little fire spirits.

Vuk will be semi intellingent about this, strap gear to wolf, send wolf across to the other side, run through the stream, which likely threatens to overwhelm him. Do you see the beauty that is the naked Gobber? Dangly bits waving in the air as he runs through screaming about the cold and Dana's fiery loins save him? Dangly bits, the entirety of the party saw them. Brom can no longer question if he's a man.

Kiroth is slow to take off his armor and he finally get sit off. He strips down to his small clothes. He doesn't make a big production of it as he's head to do these ritual cleansings before as a paladin. He drunks himself down into the water and grits his teeth. He does a quick scrub down. "Va a Mictlan. Vmaaka vuri uru a krvsuuru."

After the last of you has emerged from the water--a crackling noise starts along the edge of the stream, then ice rushes forward. It quickly coats the place you'd all just been. Still--for all the cold and discomfort, your eyes are brighter. The earth feels closer somehow, enough you feel a touch of sorrow.

"That is winter-cold you're feeling. The Wild'ss sadness. ...take them to Mictlan, hunter Kruurvish." He turns to the rest of you, handing out towels, and says, "My kin and I will meet you there. We will perform the Ssseremony of Expulsion at Mictlan's heart. As ssoon as we light the fire, They Who Hunger will come."

Brom eyes the bits of ice in the water, frowning as some of it ends up in his horrible beard. "... We should keep this short." He chatters. "The water'll freeze back up in hours. It already /was/ frozen not long ago."

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* Mictlan *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

         Deep in the heart of Alexandros by now, and in the heart of its northern woods, bones frame this hollowed-out space. Massive and heavy, they reach towards the sky, meeting--almost--in the center like great and worn stalagmites. Or giant teeth. After a few seconds--it's quickly evident that this is a space carved from a dragon's bones. A very, very large...dragon's bones. The air smells of ash, brimstone, and earth. Underneath the apex of the bones lie the workings of a pyre. Those with skill enough can tell it has not been lit for some time.

It had taken some time to get here. By now it's evening--the sun stretches and brushes past the tops of the trees, just like Kruurvish had said. Were this a normal day, you'd be sitting down for breakfast, or resting by the fire. You'd be preparing to go to bed. Your guide looks restless. He stomps his feet a few times.

"Shamans will be over there--" he says. He points beneath the apex. "They will be here soon. Be careful of the bones."

It's cold. And getting colder, as the sun moves on towards evening.

Rhodes dries himself off, gets dressed and prepares to go into the sacred area. This will be amazing to watch... He feels closer, feels connected, and it is hard for the half-elf to contain his excitement about the whole thing. The Mourner contains it though, remaining silent and respecteful the whole time.

Vuk had wasted no time in getting back into the whole, I don't need hypothermia state of being, and shivering afterwards, he also has brandy, and he's sneaking sips of it, like some how Brandy will invariably ruin the entire ritual, which it might of course. Once every one seems less close to frozen, he's also on his wolf, clinging to it's neck for warmth. "Does this ritual involve a camp fire? I like camp fires.." He shivers. Bennet quirks a brow as he eyes the place. The cowpoke has been to some pretty impressive places in his time. This one might not quite top the list, but it certainly makes the top ten.

         Deep in the heart of Alexandros by now, and in the heart of its northern woods, bones frame this hollowed-out space. Massive and heavy, they reach towards the sky, meeting--almost--in the center like great and worn stalagmites. Or giant teeth. After a few seconds--it's quickly evident that this is a space carved from a dragon's bones. A very, very large...dragon's bones. The air smells of ash, brimstone, and earth. Underneath the apex of the bones lie the workings of a pyre. Those with skill enough can tell it has not been lit for some time.

Kiroth starts to get dressed and after that with the help of Bennet get his full plate armor back, "Thank you Bennet for the assistance." He picks up his sword and shield and he looks around, "I am ready how long from the start of the ceremony until we start seeing the spirits?"

Schneider pulls on his breechcloth and belt, and then his boots. So bundled, he heads to this final destination and waits. His blade is drawn, and he appears to be inspecting it. Though he may possibly be checking out his reflection to see if his hair is still beautiful. It is. Brom is eager to return to his armor. And to retrieve a tin of something called 'beard wax' from one of his pouches. It is apparently an essential part of his bathing regimen.

"They Who Hunger will not wait long. We have--we have not had a ssseremony here for sssome time." A few other sith (not many) have joined you. They're readying their weapons, checking packs. A few of them scent the air, no few are restless. Many are young. For those who know anything about the sith, these are their warrior-caste and hunter-caste.

Bennet has his mustache wax, his gun, and his faith. He's as ready for anything as he's likely to get.

Vuk is rechecking his long gun and cocking the hammer back, he sort of figures with other warriors showing up, they are likely to be forced into a rather brutal engagement, these Sith look rather tough and rowdy. "We'll show the devils what Alexandrian's finest can bring! Demons! Spirits! IN THE NAME OF JIBBOM I COMMAND YOU TO SHOW YOUR SELF!"

Rhodes sits and pulls out his holy symbol, looking down at it as he rubs his hand over a bit. "Lady of the Viel, watch over us all. Let us put these spirits to rest and let them not harm anyone else. Bless us as we do this work, and assure we see the coming dawn." He waits though and watches.

Not long after, the shamans arrive. There are three of them. Most appear middle-aged, though one walks more slowly than the rest, and her scales are more brightly hued--not unlike how a dragon's will after many years of age. You recognize the one from the stream, and Rssva as well. They wear a rough series of wraps, decorated with bits of bone and quill. The ornaments rattle like rain as they gather aryound the unlit pyre. One of them holds a torch--Rssva. He holds it out to Rhodes.

"We will ssstart. If one of you will lay the fire..." Rssva nods to Rhodes. "We know your Gray Lady asss the Singer of Death. Come forth and light the fire. Thiss place bringss honor to Her. It bringss honor to our Ancesstors." The scarleg's muzzle twitches. Just enough to uncover some teeth. Just enough to make a point. "It may be why Hunger chossse it."

Kiroth looks to his companions. "I will try to serve as a front line, any that are not up close fighters stay behind me." He holds his shield ready and his sword. He bows his head in prayer and says quietly. "Lord. We walk into darkness now. Our enemies will surround us. Please help make us strong enough to do what needs to be done. Amen." He looks up and his eyes glow with the banesight as he is ready to take on those that would defile this holy place.

Bennet nods to the Shaman. Knew he liked this place for a reason.

"A little fire after that river is just what's called for." Brom agrees, ignoring the whole ceremonial aspect to this. He rubs his hands together. Rhodes gives a nod and puts his holy symbol back on, but out so everyone can see it. Yep, he's a Mourner. "An honor." He gets up and comes over to the pit and sets it up as he then strikes the flint for the fire. "Then let the Singer of Death know our respect, and be given due honor." Schneider smiles as the fire is brought out. This is the part he came for, after all. He watches the torch as if mesmerized, waiting to see it do some trick or other. Surely there's magic after all this puzzling ritual.

Vuk was rather hopeful his assumed act of Jibbomism would you know, work, so he could get back to the Fernwood, and sit in front of a fire. Really, he was. There's ...giant centipedes, and he had to bathe next to a dwarf. He'll claim he had to battle roaring currents, but he's now rather cold and shivering and really wishing there was nothing to this.

"We sshare your words, Rhodes shaman-priest." Rssva steps away from Rhodes then, and joins his fellow sith'makar. They begin to chant.

"Krruv kva a avi kruuu urruv vaa..." As the words progress, one of the sith grasps ashes. They toss it over the sputtering flame--which, suddenly, swiftly roars to life as though it'd been bathed in dragon's breath. The fire skyrockets, brushing the ancient bones...

...and that's when you begin to feel it. Cold. /Colder/ than cold. Even the river. And along with it, the sense of being watched. Brom frowns. "... I think we're doing the fire wrong. It's s'posed to make things warmer. Not colder." Rhodes steps back after the fire is lit, setting the torch in the ground and watching the ceremony take place. He shivers as the dropping cold and looks around. "That must be then," he whispers.

"Rruru kva Mictlan urruv ssvk ur va-avi!" A second dashing of ashes over the flame. The female raises her hands and opens her throat. What follows is not unlike a great fog horn, but syllabic. Hisses and growls that grow with the popping of the flame.

The sense of being watched.

• snap*

Schneider shivers, though more at the being watched than at the cold. Maybe the Colder gets to him a little. But the fire flaring up pleases him greatly, and his smile goes a bit feral as well as he anticipates. "Nah," he says to Brom. "They're here to fight the fire. We're here to defend it." This pleases Schneider. Little sparks of flame run up and down his sword.

Vuk looks ready to dive right back under the snow, it's colder now then before and he just had his glorious svelte body on display for the group as he gracefully flailed across the stream. Now he's -colder- and he's gripping his long gun tight. "What if they come out of the fire and suck our souls out?"

Bennet peers around at the shadows flickering in the roaring flames, and holds his rifle ready, murmuring softly. "Lady, I know all have their Time, and hope mine ain't today. Got some here who been hiding from your sight for a while now. Mean to put an end to that. Iffen ya don't mind, reckon could use a hand in this. Thank ya. Amen."

• snap*

• sna...*

The chanting continues full-bore. Near the tree line, a blackness--sorrow surges forth through the Wild-bond each of you had only recently acquired--gathers and begins forming into the shape of two humanoids. Hunched over and made from whirling ashes, their eyes glow with malevolence. Each appears to possess a heavy, exaggerated physique as though Kor himself had laid His hand, declaring the shape of the ultimate warrior.

Only this is the shadow of one. Of two of them.

They resemble vaguely, an oruch--but pushed to diabolic proportions, and their semi-translucence suggests it to be a horror from long, long ago.

Ash and fire fixates on Rhodes. They fixate on all of you, but particularly the 'warrior-priest' as the shaman had put it. They lift, weightless for all their bulk, and rush forward. One of them cleaves /through/ the cleric, for just a moment--the man feels the tie with his deity tested.

As though it were attacked directly.

"It's some sort of horrible... things!" That's Brom's oh-so-intelligent conclusion. He fires his musket wildly into the ash creature, sending some of it flying with a blast of shot. Laddie growls and cahrges forward, getting a mouth full of ashes for his trouble.

And just that fast, the enemy is in Schneider's face. It's threatening him. And he has fire. He stands in its face and casts his spell, flames roaring around his hands, and he stares back at it, apparently ... not actually attacking. Is he trying to stare down the cold with the power of his firey will? Somehow, it seems he forgot to attack it. Useless!

Bennet snaps his rifle up to his shoulder, drawing a quick bead on the ghostly orc. -KA-KOW!- The Thunderbelcher lives up to it's name, and a hole blasts between the ghost's eyes. Which for anything else would seriously suck. For a ghost, it only stings a heck of a lot.

Rhodes stands as the creatures come in, and takes a blow from one of them. "Grey Lady, protect us, give us your strength. Bring these creatures into your embrace." With the holy symbol already out, light bursts from the half-elf, and yet it's not the pleasant healing kind. It's the kind that undead usually don't like.

Vuk's wolf will wheel about when his heels press in and carry him out of range of any immediate threat, once it stops and lowers it self a bit, Vuk raises his long gun and pulls the hammer, the snapping crack as it discharges accompanied with ..ash spewing out of the creature Brom just fired upon. "Damn good showing!" He says, already working new catridge down the barrel.

Kiroth calls upon the celestial spirit he has bonded with before the warriors come to infuse his blade with frowns as the Ash warriors avoid him, "Cowards!" He sees the cleric hurt and he moves towards him, "I've got him Rhodes!" He swings hard and connects with the Ash Warrior, "Come and fight a Sunblade."

"Hey! You there! Ash monster!" Brom shouts as he hefts up his musket. "Stop with all that nonsense!" Boom! Boom! Boom! The dwarf repeatedly fires musket shot into the creature's center mass, scattering it into a mess of lifeless, steaming ashes. Laddie licks up some of the ashy remains. He'll eat anything.

Rhodes takes a deep breath as it seems that they are gone. "Hopefully that is all of them. Anyone want to take a look around for any others?"

Schneider's opponent changed targets. Well, Schneider's still got a fistfull of fire. There seems to be a solution here, and he quickly decides to gift his handful of scorching flames to the creature now fighting Bennet. Moving up behind it, he reaches out with a bare palm and a gout of fire erupts across the creature. What good this does to a monster like this is hard to say, but he does it anyhow. It's got to help, right?

Bennet is not the touchy feely sort. So when an ancient undead evil tries to give him a hug, the gunman's responce is not the friendly, understanding sort. It's the sort where he takes a quick step back and shoots the thing in the chest. Painful, even for the already dead.

Vuk is shifting targets and firing, to epically bad effect. Ever since he bought that short sword from Elessa..well, that squirrel off in the distance just got splattered against a tree trunk.

Rhodes does not like whatever this thing is doing to him, and since Bennet is getting up it's face, he's backing up. "Gray Lady, don't abandon me, let these creatures not be the end of me." There is a soft glow of his hand and his wounds heal up, revitalizing him.

Kiroth follows after the ashwarrior as it goes after rhodes again, "Coward!" He calls out and he slashes at the ashwarrior who insults Kiroth by turning his back to him. He destroys the Ashwarrior and looks to Rhodes, "Are you all right Mourner...do you need some healing?" Vuk is ..not eaten by the undead today! Success! He even takes a few shots at the other remaining ash-spirits and then watches as things settle down. "What type of spirits were those? They did not seem like the undead I've faced before."

Bennet stretches a moment as the ghost-ash-thingie is disipated. But upon spying more further around the circle, the Absolution doesn't hesitate, he just reloads, and wades in again.

Rhodes shakes his head at Kiroth, "I'm fine, thank you though. Though they need some help over there." He points to the other one, and once he takes a moment to regain his breath, he goes over to heal those who may need it while the combat types do what they do best.

Brom continues to wildly fire rounds of musket shot into the remaining shadowy orclike things. He scowls all the while. "I don't like hunting these spirit things. No meat on 'em!"

Kiroth nods to Rhodes as he turns his attention to the other ashwarriors still fighting. He will call out to the closest one and go forth to do battle against it.

Schneider is just getting into the groove of things, and he turns to aid the Sith in their defense. Holding one palm out and his hair streaming dramatically behind him, he shouts, "Spirits of Flame, heed my call! Incinerate my enemies - Strike!" A lance of fire extends from his hand and strikes one of the creatures from behind, vaporizing it.

With your aid, it isn't long before the last of the shadowy oruch are vanquished. Behind you and around you, battle cries still pierce the air, but it isn't long before they, too, cease.

And it's just like it was before.

With a few, notable differences...

"Rruru kva Mictlan urruv ssvk ur va-avi!" the female's voice takes on a fuller tone as the cleansing soars to new heights. The shamans continue and the fire blazes, though more brightly now. Behind you, Kruurvish steps forward. His steps crackle in the frozen grass. "The sshamans say, thank you. They said to share the words that the Ancestors will resst in peace and you may attend the rest of the ceremony if you like. The resst of you, I will take to a hearthfire.

"I will guide you home in the morning." One of the other sith behind him, nods, before beginning to unwind some bandages. They'd been fighting their own ash-warriors, just as you had. Some of them look bloodied. Some look pale.

Still, the ground is warmer than it had been.

The chill is a little less, and one of the shamans moves to the side. There's a place for the priest-warrior there, if he would like to join in.

The chill warmth of the Death Singer settles over the dragon's bones, and the sith call upon their Ancestors.

For the rest of you, there's food waiting.

Actually, it's bacon.

A lot of bacon.

Brom gets over the horror of fighting ruinous abominations pretty quickly. Bacon heals all wounds! Om nom nom.

Kiroth sheathes his sword after cleaning it when the fighting is done. He will attend the rest of the ceremony and help to heal any of the wounded using his lay on hands healing. While not understanding a word of what is being said, Rhodes stays to see the rest of the ceremony, glad that he has been given the honor to join as they joinly pray to the same goddess.

Bennet should like to observe, if it's allowed. He might not be a proper priest, but he spends a lot of time with them. And he's some blessings from the Lady for those in need of some healing magics.

Schneider is here to see this ceremony, and to see how they make use of fire. Perhaps he can lend some advice? Well, probably not. But he will watch and listen none the less. He has a lot to learn.

Vuk didn't even come close to death, and he'll try to well, make the bacon into some thing more then bacon unless stopped. Some dried potatoes, some onion, hard tack, and plenty of spices all end up going into a small kettle he had crammed into his overburdened supply kits. He even has small wooden bowls and brandy snifters. His wolf? It can just eat bacon plain.