[Episode] Kind of Cryptic

The piggish man dug at his nose with his pinky finger as he incuriously eyed the map. “Hrnk! What island are you talking about?” He curled his sausage-like fingers around the map’s corners and squinted at it for a moment. As he slowly deduced the isle that the sly devil was referring to his eyes widened, and the redness of his cheeks paled to a ghostly white.

“Snrk! Jeez sir, you’re lookin’ for that sort of muscle? They sealed that damn place up for a reason.” The man grimaced before he continued his warning. “Lots ‘a boys go over to that place thinkin’ they got somethin’ to prove. Not all of ‘em come back, ‘n nobody knows where they gone off to.”

A number of the patrons at the bar quieted down, somebody had given Murphy reason to talk about his latest fixation, best to avert your eyes and let him tucker himself out.

“Hrnk! You seem like a smart guy, if I were you I’d steer clear a’ that place. But if you’re lookin’ to crack into that omelet yer gonna need somebody big; the entrance is blocked off with thick slabs a’ stone.” The seemingly dull man now seemed lost in deep thought.

“Normally I’d say you’re shit outta luck, but I think you might have gotten here at the perfect time. A couple nights ago some huge red-haired fella was clearin’ out every bar that’d take his money, he paid mostly in funky smellin’ jewelry but other than that he seemed like a reasonable enough fella. Ya might be able to track him down on the beach.”

Of the many things the monster had been called over the course of his journey from the West “reasonable enough fella” was not the prevailing title, Notice had simply given him the least trouble, and needing a vacation the oni had chosen to go with the flow.

With his shoes kicked off and his feet in the sand, the oversized vacationer sat sprawled along the beach’s embankment, his head beneath the shade of a palm tree. Though a wintry breeze undercut the warmth of the sunlight’s rays, the oni still slept peacefully.

[npc=misc]“Hey, you there! I’m talkin’ to you, big fella!”[/npc] Doji snored obliviously, and a cabbage moth fluttered by riding the icy wind to parts unknown.

The old man looked up to the coconuts dangling precariously above the half-giant’s head, you’d have to be blind to miss them. [npc=misc]“Falling coconuts kill over fifty tourists a year! I’m warnin’ ye boy! Wake up or you’ll lose yer noggin!”[/npc]

A warrior is meant to lose his head. The errant thought slipped through the teenager’s unconscious dreamscape. He had been napping since noon, did this guy seriously think he was gonna wake up for the sake of respecting his elders?

The brat blew a bubble from his nose as he slumbered on unawares. The geezer stood and waited expectantly for a moment before storming off and muttering [npc=misc]“Ah whatever. I tried to warn ye…”[/npc]

A warning?... In this moment, one of the coconuts shook free, and plummeted down just to the side of the oni’s head, ...what’s gonna go wrong in a place like this?

Nearby, arriving at the ransacked docks of Notice…

“Man, they did a number on this place eh?” The jesterly man spoke apprehensively of the tattered conditions of Notice’s port, it seems the island had faced naval conflict recently.

“Never mind the local politics Fortunato…” The prim and proper Montresor spoke as the pair walked down their ship’s gangway onto the rickety docks. He examined his rapier, flicking its tip before finishing his sentence, “...we have a rat to catch.”

The two looked onwards towards the expansive tourist town’s streets, their search had just begun.

Post Word Count: 627
Total Word Count: 627

The thud of Saul’s suitcase against the ground sent a firm tremor through the trunk of the nearby palm tree. The sleeping oni opened one of his vacant eyes and twitched an ear as he tuned in to the man speaking to him, the boy yawned and stretched an arm upwards as he roused from his slumber.

For a brief moment, the monster raised his eyebrow quizically towards the slick figure that had come looking for “his talents.” With better intuition and a bit of curiosity, somebody might think to question Maxwell’s ruse, fortunately for the deceiver, these attributes are in short supply amongst teenagers and Doji proved no exception.

He seems like a friendly and trustworthy guy, I should try to make a good impression… Doji thought to himself, …he already caught me napping, that’s so embarrassing. I have to redeem myself and prove that I’ll be a valuable asset.

The awkward silence between the two was punctuated by the sound of a coconut colliding with a giant oni’s skull. It seems the sly fellow’s courteous introduction had been for naught, the monster’s blind eyes dizzily rolled around his concussed skull; a large red bump swelled from the top of his noggin.

Doji’s plans for an impressive introduction were out the window, a pair of stark white moths fluttered around his head; he’d be seeing stars… if he could see! ビジュアル ギャグ! (Translation: Visual Gag!)

“Archeologist? Yo I need a doctor…” The average person would have died from the impact of that fruit, this monster still clung to consciousness, “... you got business? I’m Doji, whatchu got in mind Jaguar? You seem like a swell little fella!” The giant’s speech was slurred and spoken through a drooling mouth, it seems the first faculties to go were his manners as the large boy couldn’t help but refer to a smaller humanoid diminutively.

Within the Depths of the Archbaron’s Crypt

The sarcophagus’ place in the room was that of a behemoth, its banded marble body, sealed with steel bars, and chained into place; as though somebody feared what might escape from the enormous coffin were it to break free. A viscous globule of crimson ichor dripped from the seam of the box, splattering to the ground and convulsing in place.

The engraved face of the casket grinned eerily within the darkness of the room, its teeth almost seeming to gnash in excitement, its unseeing eyes peering into its own depths like a bottomless abyss.

I can feel myself dying. I can feel myself growing. Somewhere within the depths of the sarcophogus the fragments of a tortured memory were subsumed by the id of a primitive and abominable sentience.

Glinting like a gemstone the deep-purple colored Notice blister scarab skittered along the floor of the tomb. The abundant crimson nectar that leaked from the sarcophogus was lifeblood for these insects; unless investigated too early. As the beetle nibbled at the thick slime it was engulfed by the substance, and despite its struggle, the insect was drowned and consumed by the gluttonous coagulate.

When will I be allowed to end? I must devour everything. The chains holding the box in place groaned, as though some unknown pressure threatened to shatter them.

The sound of canvas sliding against stone filled the chamber as a burlap sack tumbled from a passage in the ceiling, falling to the ground with a wet sickly crack from within. Shortly following the bag of “meat”, a slender hooded figure slid into the room through the chute.

[npc=misc]“You’ll have your fill my liege.”[/npc] The somber boy spoke quietly into the chamber. As he tugged the sack towards the coffin he wondered why his family had been cursed with such a grotesque lot in life. [npc=misc]Servants until the end. Just like great grandmother would have wanted. [/npc]

As Marik climbed to the top of the coffin the grim reality of his chore set in. He hated this thing’s “face.” With trembling hand he inserted a key into the sarcophagus’ forehead, the ancient mechanism grinding into its position, allowing the boy to slide open the “mouth” of the sarcophagus.

Calling the “Archbaron’s” grin toothy would be an understatement, thousands dotted its cavernous maw.

Post Word Count: 696
Total Word Count: 1,323

Beetles:

Those clouded pale blue eyes, like perfectly cut jewels for those crafty and exploitative types; the boy could never see the finer details of their schemes. However, astute schemers often noticed that some of the oni’s movements and perception were inexplicable for a blind person. For example, the hand that Doji shot towards Saul for their introduction; the giant’s handshake was all but bone-crushing, perhaps the rumors of man-eating mountain trolls weren’t too far off.

The boy had struggled to maintain his consciousness and sense his surroundings, but he seemed to treat making a good impression with this clearly trustworthy and upstanding gentleman as urgently as he would a duel between warriors. Got him. The boy thought to himself, after all the key to any good introduction is an extremely firm and authoritative handshake.

Where most men saw the world through the photographic lenses of their eyes, Doji understood it through his other senses, of which each was sharply honed through years of training and abuse. The trembling of the earth, the current of the wind, sound, taste, touch; these are the phenomena that formed the foundation of the monster’s worldview. It wasn’t Saul’s gesture itself, rather it was displacement of wind and the vibrations of his movement that keyed Doji into the man’s offering.

“10,000 eh?...” The boy thought to himself, clumsily counting on his slender stake-like fingers, “...Sure!” Doji wasn’t a particularly frugal man, in fact the oni had a nasty habit of spending every bit of wealth he happened upon; after all, what good was money if it wasn’t being put to use? From a foul smelling sack the boy produced a pearl necklace, likely worth at least 15,000 Berri. “Do you think this would cover it? How do you use the stuff? What is it?”

After the deal is struck and medicine applied…

“If you need help cracking a crypt I’m your guy Saul!’ The oni struck a dynamic pose and began stretching his shoulders, “I heard there might be an old burial site around here, but it kinda sounds like an old wives tale. Every time I hear about an island where boys go missing all I find are big cats and wolves...”

An awkward silence filled the air for a moment.

“...I wonder why that is?” This teenager’s naivety was supernatural in itself, “Anyways, you said you had a map, so that actually sounds promising. As long as you can set us off on the right course I can get us into the tomb, hopefully it’s got high ceilings! Do you have any preparations you need before we head out? I’ve got all my stuff over in that ship.” The large oni gestured  towards a nearby boat that seemed far too small for him.

Meanwhile, on the boardwalk…

As the pair of men strode across the planks of Notice’s beachfront Montresor grumpily ignored the tourist town’s extravagant attractions, his partner Fortunato however was entranced, giddily pointing back to one of the amusements, “Come on sir! You really don’t think we have time to take just a single spin on the Ferris wheel?”

“No Fortunato, I don’t, and in fact I think you should be fixing your eyes on the task at hand; we’ll never find the rat if you keep getting distracted!”

“Oh. Okay.” The man looked down dejectedly, like a sad clown.

With a cruel grit and mocking tone to his voice Montresor pointed towards a very drab looking establishment with a simple sign reading “Murphy’s Law.”

“Never hurts to check a tavern eh?” He swung the door open, beckoning his captive audience member to sadly shuffle his way into the shack. As the two made their entrance into the bar the more privileged and fancily dressed of the two strode confidently up to the bar, his broad shoulders swaying with his walk.

“Howdy sir, a glass of your finest rum for myself and one of grog for the sad fellow tailing me. I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a spot of conversation?” The posh dandy was ostensibly polite, but the drinks he ordered spoke to his elitism.

“Hrnk! I ‘spose if ye slip me a tip I could be inclined.” Murphy spoke coyly, despite being a blabbermouth he fancied himself an information broker and always tried to make extra money where he could.

“10,000 Berri. Just tell me…” The wealthy man pulled a neatly folded clump of notes from his pocket to pay the bartender, “...have you seen some rat-faced devil gallivanting around town with a stolen map?”

The bartender paused for a moment, picking a fleck of snot from his nose before speaking. “Well ‘e didn’t say it was stolen, but I ‘spose I have. Said he was lookin’ for some muscle so I pointed ‘im down towards the beach, there’s a big freaky fella down there, I wouldn’t follow after ‘em if I was…”

Murphy’s jabbering was interrupted by Montresor abruptly forcing himself free from his seat at the counter, “You heard the man Fortunato, down at the end of this beach! Moha-ha-ha!” The man threw back his rum, throwing the glass to the ground, and forced his compatriot to down the foul drink that had been foisted upon him.

The two began jogging at a brisk pace down towards the beach, Fortunato struggling to keep pace with his more naturally athletic tormentor. It wouldn’t be long before the dundering duo caught up with the sly fox that had conned them.

Post Word Count: 916
Total Word Count: 2,239

Despite its rickety appearance the Niaochuan was possessed of a “proper” sail, tidily rolled up to the top its main mast. As ‘Saul’ unfurled the map, Doji hauled up the ship’s anchor and unfurled its sail; as the red-haired boy nimbly hopped up onto the boat its hull groaned beneath his weight, and the boat rocked along the waves like a tourist’s surfboard.

The old sutured sail looked more like a senile old woman’s quilting project than proper means of propulsion for a vessel, scraps of canvas hung haphazardly sewn together by knots of bright crimson yarn; the “heart” of this sip had obviously been patched up countless times. As ‘Saul’ was welcomed aboard by his oversized minion a strand of this yarn dangled down like a drop of sanguine rain, fluttering towards his face almost accusatorily; it was as though this sail knew something the boy didn’t and was trying to warn him of the bilgerat he had just welcomed into his home.

“East it is then!” Doji cheered excitedly to his self-evidently virtuous navigator before closing his eyes and falling into an almost meditative stillness. The filtering warmth of the sunlight, the winding current of the wind, the weight of the world holding him from the heavens; they served the boy better than sight alone ever could.

“Feels like it’s about 2 in the afternoon…” the oni turned his hand forwards and back in the air, gauging the position of the sun quite accurately, “...so we head that way and I’d imagine we should get there by nightfall or sooner right?!” And with this Doji pointed eastwards and shoved the ship into motion with what looked to be a large makeshift oar.

But as the two began making their way out to sea, they coudn’t help but hear the pair of men screaming to them from the shore, “Mr. Beans! Don’t think you’ve gotten away from us yet you slimy rat fuck!” Montresor shook his fist in the air and kicked at the sand as he spoke.

“Return the map and we shall consider sparing your life and letting you go on your way sir!” Fortunato screeched with a doubtful squeakiness to his voice.

“Who told you to say that Fortunato?” The ill-tempered man’s ire was distracted from its main source for a moment, turning back to his “compatriot” to bicker, bully, and berate him for his disobedience.  

Doji took his sake from his hip and took a swig before turning to speak to maxwell, still keeping his ear turned to the pursuers’ argument, “So uh, how’d ya come by that map Saul? I thought the thing that differentiated archeologists like yourself, from graverobbers like me was stayin’ on the right side of the law? Not that I’m complaining…”

The red-haired lad held his hand to his mouth to prevent himself from snickering, “...and Mr. Beans? Don’t tell me you packed a bunch ‘a soybeans* on ya to destroy me if things go wrong! Yo-ka-ka-ka-iii!” The blundering fool just cackled, assuming a man of science would resort to such superstitions, and not even thinking to question Richard’s expanding menagerie of aliases.

*Mr.Beans:

Post Word Count: 523
Total Word Count: 2,762

“Brandy eh?...” Doji gently picked up the cup between his thumb and forefinger, raising it to his nose to give it a whiff, “...smells like the strength might offset the sweet. This stuff’s probably been around longer than I have.” with his astute observation the 18 year old downed the offered drink in a single exaggerated gulp.

Damn that actually burns, finally something sweet with some fight to it! The oni thought to himself as he savored the booze’s fine notes of infernal flame and asmodean debauchery; in the warped worldview that had been cultivated for the boy, that which wasn’t sufficiently challenging: such as the palatable taste of sweets, was not an acceptable part of a warrior’s training or regime.

“That’s excellent Mr. Saul! You said this is out of Loguetown? Seems like a drink fit for a pirate…” He smiled jovially as he spoke, trailing off and furrowing his brow as he thought more about the spirit’s origin, “...figure this could get a guy over that damn wall of a mountain?” The red-haired oni spoke quite contemptuously of the red line, as though he had some personal grievance with the mass of crimson rock.

“I’m surprised an honest guy like you is gettin’ your booze out of that freebooter’s haven…” Doji was earnest and unassuming in his comment, “... hey what’s it matter which side of the law we’re on, tonight we shared drinks! Oh!”

With his exclamation sitting in the air Doji reached his hand below deck, jimmying around the ship’s hull for some stashed food, “Here, they’re not much, but they’re the best crackers I could steal! Why don’t we break bread? Make it a done deal!” The oni proudly presented a crate filled with salted flatbreads to ‘Saul’ alongside his proclamation.

“All the differences between graverobber and archeologist, let’s throw ‘em away for the night and figure out what’s goin’ on in that crypt! What’s the difference between a righteous man and a wicked one anyways?! Put a vagrant in the shoes of a king and he’ll go mad with the power, put a tyrant in the place of that same tramp and he’ll learn to beg for his next meal!” He threw his hands out dramatically as he mused to the disguised Maxwell, what would the good doctor make of this oversized teenager’s odd philosophy?

Emerging serendipitously from the fog alongside Doji’s proclamation, the form of an island lurched into view, towering over the travelers like a crooked spire. This jagged spine was little more than a worthless mass of rock sent to shatter any ship unlucky enough to crash into it; nonetheless, a small bank of sand formed what looked to be a small beach around the mouth of a cave, it would take a trepidatious and proficient captain to navigate this wreck of a shore. That is unless the blundering blind twit inattentively crashed his precious little ship directly into the rocks.

The stone below raked across the seat of the vessel with a sharp cracking sound, roughly gyrating the ship’s passengers like the furious throws of a rousing leviathan. As the ship plowed its way through the turbulence it began taking on water, more and more pouring into its confines from the now countless breaches in its hull. As the shipwreck skidded to a “gentle” stop against the isle’s sand the grim reality of the situation became clear: the two were stranded, marooned even, on some no-name island with a reputation for devouring anyone foolish enough to venture out to it.

“Well then…” Doji rubbed his hand sheepishly on the back of his neck with an embarrassed expression, “... uh. Maybe we can find enough wood in the crypt to patch things back together for the trip back?” What a farcical grasp at hope; whatever “crypt” was lurking at the end of this crag’s wretched cave was certainly no more than a hoax perpetrated to lure unsuspecting travelers to their doom!

Post Word Count: 658
Total Word Count: 3,420

Tomb of Horrors

Countless are the corpses that constitute history, and what is history but something to be forgotten? No matter the cultivations of man, life, civilization, and legacy; all are promised to the great devourer. There were few who still remembered this place, far fewer who graced its halls.

Indeed, for the past ten years, only the errant echoes of Marik’s lonely footsteps had broken the empty silence of the crypt. Is this what a father ought to leave his son? A gluttonous monstrosity and a mountain of his ancestor’s corpses? It seemed that his lot in life was little more than sorting through the rotting journals of his forefathers in search of a discovery that could never be attained.

[npc=misc]Each generation it draws nearer, and one day when we find it…[/npc] The young crypt keeper grit his teeth, [npc=misc]...then we may return to that place from which we were banished, our lord born anew by our lifeblood.[/npc]

For the generations-long length of their exile from Notice, there was only one facet to the life of the accursed clansmen of Mahal: sustaining and perfecting the lifeblood of immortality for their noble lord; experimenting within their lighthouse and venturing off the island only to claim an offspring and return. Such is the nature of progress, iteration, and reiteration cycling themselves ad infinitum; the father shapes the son, the son shapes his father’s legacy, these legacies and inherited wills shape the course of history.

[npc=misc]To claim immortality for the ordinary man, now wouldn’t that be something?[/npc] Marik mused to himself, this treacherous dream had been fermenting within his mind for some time, like a fine wine spoiling to vinegar it burned at him, [npc=misc]Would that really be so bad father? The Baron was denied his nobility, perhaps it is the same for us all.[/npc]

Ascending floor after floor of the bizarre sepulcher Marik made his way through death traps, secret passageways, and treacherous outcroppings of wildlife he made it to the precipice’s entrance; the moist and aging oak door opened almost too eagerly for the young man’s homecoming. Here it was, the “patio” of his family abode: crooked stairs carved into a wet cliff-face standing some 900 feet above sea level; at least the family had never known the nuisance of unwelcome solicitors.

Jutting from the peak, like a middle finger hoisted aloft towards some far-off god, stood the family lighthouse; for centuries this towering monument of aging white cobblestone had stood defunct, but only now amongst the kindling embers of The Great Pirate Era would this upright cigarette begin to burn away; it’s wearing stonework tumbling to the ocean below like windswept ashes. The time where the house Mahal would even have a place to pursue their impossible dream was dwindling to its end.

The faults in the Archbaron’s “Immortality” were like marring stains of dishonor upon the clan's dream, each generation the tapestry of their honor-bound service wore thinner and more frayed; soon there would be nothing left. Only Marik, traitor to his name, remained; well, he and the countless raving journals and dissertations left behind by his forefathers. If there was any scientific merit to this discovery, if it was not the grim ruse that Marik was all but certain it was, then such a thing would be his alone.

The perfected formula, free from the myopic influences of his predecessors; there, in the gleaming silver syringe, sat the traitor’s elixir. Soon, with the help of an ingredient that had been sitting right beneath his family’s nose, it would be complete. Thus would spread the wings of the clan Mahal: the lifebringers, and with this blessing Marik would descend like an angel to grant deliverance.

Back at the Mouth of Madness

“Right! Then let’s crack this bad boy open Saul!” Doji stretched his fingers forwards and rolled his shoulders, taking his companion’s timid rallying cry at face value, “No use crying over wrecked ship, or whatever that expression is; point is, she’s seen worse, if we can find some nails, wood, and something leathery we should be all set! Sorry for the rough landing!”

Always eager to hear of the sea’s many islands, the oni piped up and made a bit of small talk with Saul,“So, there’s more to Loguetown than just the pirates? I guess a lot of people would pass through eh? What was your time there like?”

With a goofy expression plastered across his face the red-haired oni began tromping his way down the mouth of the cave, ducking his head to avoid scraping his horns against the roof. There, at the end of the tunnel stood the first obstacle to the pirates’ plunder: a massive circular slab of stone, sealed to the wall by a rough amalgam of rock, concrete, and salt crystals.

“Oh damn! It smells nice in here!” With this proclamation, the strange boy ran up to the wall and ran his hands along its rough surface; after a moment of deliberation, the boy stuck his tongue out and took a lick of the salt.

“Delicious!” The oni smiled at the “natural” taste of the grimy and dilapidated salt deposit.

“Alright Saul, leave it to me!” After giving his compatriot adequate time to take a step back, Doji set to work chipping away at the stone sealing the crypt shut, striking loose the crystalline and rocky mass with the pointed hilts of his swords. All in all it took the oni just under half an hour to finish chipping away the debris.

“Time for the big reveal! You excited man?!” Doji shouted over toward the ‘archeologist’ as he threw the full weight of his body into twisting loose the sealing slab; with a grumbling discontent, like an old man rousing from a centuries-long slumber, the massive slate was pried from its resting place.

“THOOOMM” the stone fell with a thundering sound, shooting tremors through the earth below, the giant had just narrowly avoided crushing his feet beneath the enormous weight. Now, looming agape like the jaws of a serpent, the crypt was opened; and from within, shrieking and fluttering like the voice of an opera singer, came the flooding of hundreds, if not thousands of bats.

Post Word Count: 1,035
Total Word Count: 4,455

Somewhere in the stone ceiling above a mechanism fell into place with a resounding click, and with it came the sound of massive and decrepit old gears grinding to life. As Doji rushed in to follow after ‘Saul’’s intrepid entrance the nature of the first booby trap made itself apparent: rumbling beneath the weight of the mountain the ceiling began closing in.

The oni couldn’t tell what was going on at first, it felt as though the world around him was beginning to collapse into ruin, but nonetheless the solid ground of Doji and Saul’s upward incline remained. It was only when his horns began grinding against the lowering roof that the issue pressed itself against him; breaking out into a hunched scramble the boy tried to keep pace with his fearless leader.

It wasn’t long before another trap was sprung against the pair, as the gears surrounding the hallway rotated a number of openings emerged in the walls’ brickwork; and with a heavy clank, a thick and rusty iron spear made its way straight for the chest of one ‘Jaguar D. Saul.’ Perhaps it was only in the nature of ‘archeologists’ to meet these sorts of gruesome ends.

But it certainly isn’t in the interest of a warrior to see those around them die in such mundane and meaningless fashion; throwing himself towards the foul mechanism the oni hooked onto it with curved blades. What would win? The longstanding monolith and its gnashing teeth of traditional artifice? Or the rōnin, a warrior from a foreign land who has come to impress his willful ambitions upon such stagnation?

With the twisting of the giant’s dense and heavy musculature the stone wall surrounding the mechanism began to crumble at its seams. The thick metal barb would now be made to reckon with the unfettered sharpness of the monastery’s edges; these curved swords, melted from the weapons of passed martial artists, would not see their will broken by such a crude and honorless implement.

The sound of wrenching metal and caving rubble filled the air as the rusted apparatus was hauled from its seat and thrown downwards, clanking down the incline towards the crypt’s mouth, “♫Phwyo-whyoo! Careful Saul-san! These places are always packed up to the brim with booby traps!” The oni whistled cheerfully as he gloated about his lifesaving intrusion; the boy wouldn’t have long to brag before the ceiling took him down a peg, tamping the tall brute further and further towards the encroaching floor.

“Gyah! Get me outta this sushi press! I don’t wanna be oni-nigiri!”Scrambling upon hands and knees the oni quite fortuitously blundered his way past the remainder of the spike traps; the advantages of letting a blind and foolhardy giant of a teenager lead the way through the death trap made themselves as obvious as the locations of the traps on the walls.

“Come on Mr. Saul! I still wanna hear more about Loguetown and all those yakuza! I don’t think things are quite as chaotic up here, or at least I haven’t managed to spring anything yet!” Doji hollered down towards the archeologist from atop his seeming safehaven, a faint echo bounced along with the boy’s voice.

Unseen by the tittering troll was the true grandeur of the tomb that surrounded him: it was an expansive hall, and though its marble was beginning to fray into ruin, this ‘immortal’ resting place was surely constructed by masterful stonemasons. This massive place was home to those lowest in the spire’s caste: the dead of the family Mahal, judging by the number of coffins the family’s progeny obviously had some success.

Like the stepped face of a humble pyramid the stairway leading up from this burial hall loomed at its far end. Etched upon its surface, like the graven image of a heathen god, loomed the massive stone-carving depicting that beast which the accursed family had sworn fealty to. The man in the carving was the spitting image of royalty, adorned with crown, cape, and rod to prove it. With a prideful expression the graven man graciously extended a goblet down to his servants, a wretched lot who seemed to lap ravenously at this noble’s font of life.

Post Word Count: 701
Total Word Count: 5,156

“Good bet Saul! Little folks who think themselves important love to be entombed with their earthly belongings, it’s so egoistic; not to say I don’t find it useful, but I don’t understand the impulse. The only thing a dead man does when he rots away with his spoils is deprive the world of his glory; everything and everybody you touch this world is an inheritor of your spirit, a windswept leaf whose course is set by the influence of your gentle breeze!” The oni stumbled a bit further ahead of Maxwell, excited to share a crypt with a fellow delver. Doji always felt at home in these places, free to speak his mind to any who would listen; usually he didn’t have such lively company!

“Yo! Speaking of which…” Doji kicked off his shoes and tucked them into his bag, scolding himself internally for having not done so upon entering, “...there we go! Now we’re welcome in their home, that’s how it works!” With a bastard’s grin plastered across his effeminate face the miscreant youth began poking around at some of the lower class sarcophagi.

“You’d be surprised at what you can find in these places, even amongst the commoners; hell even if they don’t have much, it seems like they cling to what they do have wherever they can, even if it’s six-feet under when it should be gettin’ put to use by their kids…” the oni crouched over to trace the inscriptions engraved upon the boxes, “...Hmm. This isn’t a language I recognize, the characters seem similar to the ones folks use up here; if I had to guess these are all members of the Myhall family, what a creative namesake,” the boy closed his eyes and grinned smugly as he popped one of the coffins open.

Like a vengeful spirit unleashing its retribution the plume of foul, ancient, and rotten-smelling particulate matter engulfed the intruder’s face; seeping into his air supply like a miasma, the pathogen of Odion Mahal’s mummified remains infected Doji, “Yakhoo! Khoukh!” The oversized lad began hacking up a lung, fleeing from the cloud and promptly slavering out phlegmy globules alongside his coughing fit. The red-haired giant was brought to his knees by this, a commoner, and a dead one no less; it is true that there is only one place where all are equal.

But this curse would not be the death of Doji, at least not yet. With reddened and teary-eyes the boy stood back up, a sickened bubble hanging from his nose, “Don’t worry M–yeukh! Mister Saul…” the boy looked up sheepishly, his hardy constitution had always served him well against the perils of graverobbing, “...I’ll be good in no time! Whyookh!”

Unbeknownst to at least one of our adventurers, but perhaps obvious to one with a medical background, is the fact that the lad would not be “good in no time.” Inhaling the rotting residuals of a crumbled corpse tends to have that effect on people; and that wasn’t all there was to the curse of the Mahal…

Haphazardly bumbling down the hallway Doji spoke down to ‘Sual’ with the deference of a miserable wretch in need of direction, “Yheukh! I shoulda just stayed the course with you sir. Straight up to the royal vaults it i–yheakh!” With a hacking cough the boy stumbles and trips himself down directly onto a rather odd tile on the floor; one that gave way beneath his weight, clicking into the floor all too happily.

Within the ceiling timeworn mechanisms began clunking and grinding into place; the sound of something enormous rolling around above them was obvious, and unsettlingly familiar, to the duo of intrepid explorers. At least for the moment this roof wasn’t closing in. Nonetheless, what did come from on high was arguably worse; smashing into the floor below it came a heavy orb of steel 12 feet in diameter, for a moment it sat looming unmoving at the top of the staircase. Then, with a strange scuttling sound from within, the ball began rolling of its own volition; bouncing down each step with a sharp clank.

As the orb reached the bottom step Doji was able to stand back to his feet, resting a single hand against his knee he took a laborious breath as he raised one of his swords, “Whyook– Hey if it’s anything like those spikes then this’ll be a piece ‘a ca-yeakh!” With its target set, the orb began rolling towards the oni, the scuttling within intensifying as the strange sphere drew nearer.

The swordsman stood wearily, and attempted to hold his ground, throwing a slash towards the deadly artifice and expecting it to give way as it’s predecessors had. No such luck, It’s steel? Doji thought grudgingly to himself as he narrowly avoided the metallic boulder’s path of destruction by steering it away with his sword.

Understand this Doji, there is nothing that a true swordsman cannot cut; that is what it means to cut nothing. Breathe and become at one with nothing, with your blade limber and unexpectant, this is the sword that cuts steel child, the giant-oni recalled his mother’s training, the acclaimed swordswoman would impart this, and many other advanced principles of kenjutsu to her witless child of a student; whatever stuck in the red-mop headed boy’s brain was between him and the kami.

With a sharp series of inhales the oni started gathering his breath, at one with nothing he would slice this bizarre contraption in half; but it was all for naught, for at this moment Asakura Doji was one with something: the accursed legacy of the Mahal. With a loud cough the monstrous lad expelled the air he had fought so hard to claim for himself, it was no good; without proper breathing technique there was no way he could fight off the boulder heading back towards him.

Meanwhile, on the Beach of Spirecrag

“What good luck eh sir? This ship really is destroyed~” Fortunato, made his way merrily down towards the end of the beach, following after the oversized tabi-print that had been left in the sand.

“It would have been better were their cargo hold not soaked, but I suppose so Fortunato…” Montresor began surveying the beach, poking his head inquisitively into the cave’s mouth, “...we’ve certainly got some good fortune. It seems that this is the only way in or out of the place.”

“Ooh, which means we don’t even have to follow them in! We can just stake out here, and if they don’t return after a few days then the problem has taken care of itself~! Plus they’ll probably have triggered some of the traps in there for us,” the jesterly foil spoke eagerly to his cruel leader.

Montresor clobbered his compatriot’s back with his meaty palm, just hard enough to leave a lasting sting, “You took the words right out of my mouth old boy! I rather suppose we can craft up some sort of rock trap for that giant, and then take care of the rat the old fashioned way!” With his proclamation the well-dressed fellow drew his saber from its scabbard, fancily brandishing the weapon’s keen edge.

“Yes! Excellent plan sir! I’ll begin assembling camp, and then we can set about or work preparing for that horned freak~” the “happy” little fool traipsed his way back to the duo’s ship, eager to enjoy some reprieve from his boss’ ire in the excitement of the stakeout.

The red thread of Old Sutured Sail fluttered in the wind, pointing from the shipwreck’s remains towards the boy’s would-be assassins with an accusatory tension. The red omen rose in an updraft, pointing to its master above, as though desperately wishing it could warn him of the impending danger. But alas, without the wind at its sails the all-too lucky strand of string was stuck.

Post Word Count: 1,308
Total Word Count: 6,464

The healing dose coursed through the oni’s veins like a rush of adrenaline, instantly liberating him from the rotten curse; the question of who would ultimately prevail between Maxwell’s medicine and the Mahal’s malady remained, but for the moment Doji was breathing easy. With a sharp inhale the boy sprung back to his feet, before furrowing his brow and turning his face towards the doctor, “damn! You’re stronger than you let on Mr. Saul! I don’t think anybody’s snatched me up like that since I was a kid!”

Once more, the wind was on the boy’s side; though the crypt air was damp and stagnant, so long as it was breathable it would serve as adequate fuel for the devil’s flame, “You ready to see what’s really in this place Saul?...” the swordsman spoke calmly and quietly as he readied his hooks.

As the boulder clattered towards ‘Saul’ and Doji the stone beneath them trembled, as though threatening to give way beneath the weight of the massive thing. Looming above them like a shining zenith the ominous orb rolled in for the kill.

“... 二刀流 ｢居合｣ 黄泉比良坂   Nitōryū Iai: Yomotsu Hirasaka (Two Sword Style Draw: Slope into the Underworld)!” A bastardized version of the two-sword school’s Rashōmon, reliant more upon the troll’s raw strength than any true skill; even cutting steel could come easily to those born with prodigious strength.

But power alone is never the sole deciding factor in battle, preparedness, ingenuity, strategy; with sufficient measure in any of these qualities an opponent who relies on sheer force alone can be overcome; and unfortunately for Doji, the orb was a marvel of all such qualities. As the Oni’s attack came careening towards the artifice, it protected itself; sturdy mechanical limbs protruded from paneling on the sphere’s sides, and with the sharp sound of grinding gears the machinery stopped the oni’s blades dead in their tracks.

“What the?!” The red-head was stunned, how could his strength be matched so easily? This wasn’t even a living opponent, was he truly a lesser to some inanimate marble?

The boy tried to wrest his weapons free from the automaton; no luck, quite the contrary in fact: between the gear’s cold metallic teeth one of the boy’s hooks was shattered at its end, and the other thrown to the far end of the room, “Damn it!” Doji growled as he threw his remaining weapon aside, and braced for the rolling calamity’s impact.

Catching the boulder between the width of his arms the giant-oni attempted to stand his ground, “Jaguar D. Saul! You’re strong! Stronger than I am! Yrghh…” Doji grunted as he held himself off from being flattened for a moment longer, “...help me! If ya don’t wanna be a pancake, then help me rip this thing apart!” The son of giants cried down to the rattish-whiskered man for help in this Sisyphean task, his voice raw with the desperation and fury of a warrior making his final stand.

Meanwhile, Marik machinates on the now evident intrusion…

Long and historic is the rivalry between cryptkeepers and graverobbers, for as long as men have sought to retain their possessions after death there have been thieves honorless enough to try to claim such loot. The Mahals were astute in the construction of their master’s tomb, having learned from the mistakes of their forebearers the clan was able to create a more sophisticated series of defenses.

As Marik worked in his laboratory he was interrupted by the clangorous echoes of the house’s alarm bells, [npc=misc]Orbweaver released? That’s odd. We haven’t had visitors in some time, usually they can’t get past the ramp anyways…”[/npc] the hermit quietly mulled the situation over in his head before again his concentration was put to a halt; from deep beneath the peak sound and tremor of an enormous impact resonated decisively, [npc=misc]“...something is going on down there. Fear not precious elixir, I will return to you shortly,”[/npc] with this Marik set aside his work, grabbed his weaponry, and headed down towards the Archbaron’s “throne room.”

Post Word Count: 661
Total Word Count: 7,125

“Got it!” With Saul’s command issued the loyal henchmen swung the automaton’s severed limb into it like the paddle of some primitive ball-bearing game. With a hefty thud the wearing machine was thrown loose from beneath the feet of its dapper attacker, tumbling uncontrollably throughout the tomb’s confines like a pachinko ball bouncing off of countless pegs.

In short order, the machine was thoroughly dismantled and condemned to its miserable fate: never to roll over an unwitting adventurer again. Finally the intrepid explorers were free to make their way up to the crypt’s “throne room;” with the obstacle out of the way the wanderlusting giant was all too happy to lead the way.

“Yeesh! What the hell was that thing?...”  Doji inquired over to Maxwell with an exhausted sigh, “... I mean it’s scrap metal now; but still, who builds that kinda thing? I’ve seen plenty a’ rock traps, but I ain’t ever seen a rock that could move around on its own like that,” the oni idly kicked a bit of rubble from the stairway as he began the long ascent upwards.

“Anyways, what was it that we were after again? Gold? Jewels? Maybe some fancy old sword?” The mission’s target had skipped the overgrown boy’s mind almost entirely, in truth he was just enjoying his brief foray into archeology, happy that he’d managed not to upset his kind, studious, and dutiful new mentor.

As the pair of explorers chatted onwards they eventually made their way up to the end of the stairs. Standing before them: one final door, inscribed with the image of a tree’s roots wrapping around skeletons, “You ready?” Doji asked simply, rearing his leg up for a kick.

Meanwhile, in the Archbaron’s throne room…

It was a shame to return to the noble’s chambers so soon after his last feeding, Marik loathed this room and the master who had demanded such loyal service from his family for so long. It couldn’t be helped, even more valuable than his treasured possession was the “man” himself; what his ancestors saw as a figure worthy of worship, Marik saw only as a valuable test subject.

[npc=misc]“Seems we have visitors. It’s been some time, hasn’t it Emta?”[/npc] Marik asked contemptuously of his liege, tracing his right thumb over the length of the oversized syringe in his left hand. It was rare that the cryptkeeper scientist was given opportunities to test his elixir, finally: another prime opportunity had presented itself; a bit for the old man, and a bit for his unwanted guests, this way he could document his progress with a prior recipient, and with a control.

[npc=misc]“Rather promising new meat it sounds like too…”[/npc] Marik mused, sitting atop the Sarcophagus as the sound of heavy footsteps made their way up towards the nearby door, [npc=misc]“... I suppose a large enough fellow would be able to deal with Orbweaver wouldn’t he. But it should be a good refresher for your food stores shouldn’t it, my liege?” [/npc]

A cruel grin spread across the white-haired man’s face as he heard his prey draw near, [npc=misc]“you’re ready too then aren’t you old-timer?...”[/npc] Marik pondered as he procured the sarcophagus’ key from his pouch, [npc=misc]“...let’s see that pretty face again,”[/npc] alongside his smug remarks the scientist squirted a bit of residual liquid from the end of his syringe.

“THOOM!” The heavy stone doors flew loose, skidding and grinding across the throne room’s floor to the sarcophagus’ foot. In truth, it didn’t matter whether or not ‘Saul’ had proclaimed himself ready for the horror lying behind the door; his reckless and impetuous young assistant was already set on kicking in that goddamn door.

Another breath of fresh air? Let us feast. Let that which you call “immortality” course through the veins of another.

Post Word Count: 627
Total Word Count: 7,752

[npc=misc]“Right! Archeologists, of course…”[/npc] Marik shot a look of smug skepticism down towards ‘Saul’, [npc=misc]“... well I suppose now that you’ve found my family’s halls still abundantly inhabited you can be on your way then!”[/npc] The man gestured to himself dramatically as he spoke, dangling his feet from the top of the grand sarcophagus.

[npc=misc]“Although if you’d prefer, I’d be happy to give you a tour of the place; perhaps we can start by introducing you to the man himself…”[/npc] inserting his key into the coffin’s lock and turning it with a heavy clunk, [npc=misc]“...here you are! Archbaron Emta Tumo, in the flesh!”[/npc]

Quavering like rotten gelatin the toothy mass spoke in a low gurgle, like a dying beast choking out its final breath, “Greetings knave. It has been some time since I laid eyes upon a new servant…” from amongst its mass, a smattering of eyeballs shivered and fixated upon ‘Saul’ and Doji, “...a fine offering indeed. In exchange, I shall offer you three answers to whatever questions you two might have before you proceed, these old ears have heard many things.”

[npc=misc]“Oh how generous my liege! Granting them that boon of enlightenment that you have obliged me time and again; I had no part in their recruitment, so I suppose it’s only fair that they should be entitled to the fruits of their labor,”[/npc] Marik clapped his hands as he awaited ‘Saul’s questions, and curiously tuned in for the abomination’s answers.

“Saul do you understand a fucking word either of these two are saying? I don’t recall signin’ up to be anybody’s minion but yers for this expedition. I’ll go along with it for now I guess, but I don’t know what we’re supposed to ask this thing,” Doji would defer to ‘Saul’ for resolving what, to his surprise, seemed like a social matter.

Post Word Count: 305
Total Word Count: 8,057

With a simple nod and a grunt the oni subtly shifted his weight to the base of his hips and readied himself to draw his swords as soon as things started getting hairy;  in the meantime Doji would wait dutifully as the monster answered his partner’s questions.

“Gragkhu-khu-khu-hueeze! Of course you want my treasure…” the creature sputtered and wheezed out a laugh as it condescended down to the rat, “...you’ve done well to make it this far. The treasure is in this very room, but I have grown rather fond of my possessions; I keep them close to my heart.”

[npc=misc]“Yes, and the marvelously rare creatures that have made the true treasure of our spire possible…”[/npc] Marik flicked the syringe containing the elixir his family had sought after for centuries, referring to the beetles that were necessary to create such potent medicines, [npc=misc]“...I’m afraid you’ll find them just beyond your reach,”[/npc] the man spoke with a smug smile, pointing to the ceiling above him.

With ‘Saul’s’ second question the quavering mass began cackling, sputtering up globular viscous masses of dark sienna-colored ichor. Marik couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, [npc=misc]“Kek~ a question for the ages. You’re rather incurious for an archeologist, no…”[/npc] a wide grin sprawled across the cryptkeeper’s face, [npc=misc]“... you’re more like a rat in a trap, looking for any way you can get out of this aren’t you.”[/npc]

“Gkhu-khu-khu! Indeed! This is the crude knowledge you seek of my immortal mind? So be it! I’ve consumed many of my most loyal servants, and so their knowledge of the crypt is my own. You may dream of exiting from the lighthouse’ tunnels above, but our audience is not yet over. Now, mortal, ask me your last trifling question and join me in eternal servitude.”

As the conclusion to Maxwell’s ruse was punctuated by an octave of gunshots the creature seemed unharmed as it chuckled and choked out more sanguine beads. The man standing atop the sarcophagus was not so lucky; two of the eight shots ripped into Marik’s chest, sending him toppling from the top of the lengthy coffin, landing to the ground with a sickly crack.

Lying on the ground all but completely paralyzed, the cryptkeeper’s fingers clung to his elixir with shattered desperation.

The creature didn’t seem to pay any mind to its wounded servant, as its body began to convulse from within the confines of the now unlocked sarcophagus. With a squealing sound the golden exterior of the sarcophagus began to morph and contort from the pressure being placed on it from within. Finally, a hole ruptured from its surface, and from the hole a gelatinous pseudopod of a limb emerged.

“Those names you speak…” the monstrous noble tore another hole in its coffin, from within its confines the Archbaron produced a glistening gold scepter topped with a heavy ruby gem, “...I’ve devoured servants who knew of such people; that was a long time ago, I’d thought such names had been extinguished from history. But you, yes, I wonder what other secrets lurk in such a mind,” the creature’s face amalgamated into a mess of teeth and eyeballs, all hungrily fixated upon ‘Saul.’

“Watch out!” Doji cried to his ally as the monster swung its cane down towards him. The oni’s blades cut cleanly through the coagulate, the newly severed “arm” splattering into a formless mess against the floor, “Hah! How do you like that baron?!”

“Gkhu-khu-khu…” the monster laughed as the slime on the floor began reconstituting itself, loyally reattaching itself to the giant monster’s body, “...what man could call himself immortal if he could be harmed so easily,” the creature’s arm sprouted once more, reconstructing itself in a mass of gooey tendons; clenching its hand into a fist, the Archbaron coated its arms, and swung its now hardened fist down towards the duo.

[npc=misc]This isn’t the end…[/npc] bleeding badly Marik shakily raised his syringe, using the last of his strength to limply throw his arm upon his body and inject himself, [npc=misc]... tell me then, immortal daemons; is it I who have stolen your gift?[/npc] The cryptkeeper didn’t have another option, he would be his own test subject for the newest iteration of his family’s serum.

Post Word Count: 701
Total Word Count: 8,758

ROUND 1
Richard uses:
[HT] Malpractice on Marik
[LT] Leg It on Self
[UT] on Marik

Marik uses:
[MT] on Richard
[LT] on Richard
[LT] on Richard
[UT] on Richard

---

COMBAT TRACKERS: