Fantasy The Devil's Meridian (Closed)

[Radley]

After conversing with Detlev and the Alamannian scientists, Flint and Rourke headed towards the Nixe to speak with Meinhardt. While he could sense Detlevs disapproval towards his decision to destroy the charms, Flint needed to concede to the fact that the substance within was far more dangerous than he had anticipated. Kuromaki possessed the remaining charm, and perhaps Warren had one as well. He cast a glance at the commander, who was walking with them to the Nixe. If he had one of the charms, this experience should discourage him to tamper with it further.

As they stepped aboard the Nixe and headed to the infirmary, the heat had beat Flint and Rourke quite hard, the former taking off his coat, rolling up his sleeves and unbuttoning his collar, while the latter had tied his jacket around his waist, his sweat-soaked neckerchief hanging limply over his undershirt. As they entered the sickbay, Meinhardt looked to them from his bed and squinted slightly at their appearance. The pair looked more akin to lowly river pirates rather than distinguished naval officers. "You'll probably hear it from your own lieutenant, sir, but our crew has just demolished two of the black aetherine charms." Flint said bluntly. He could tell from the Commodores facial expression that this didn't sit well with him at all, but Flint opted to continue. "One man was injured when a soot-like substance crept up his leg and seemed to... consume its life force.". The latter revelation garnered some interest from Meinhardt, whom gestured for Flint to continue. "Your scientists think that black and blue aetherine might be polar opposites, with one stealing life while the other restores it." Flint said before looking from the Commodore to Warren and then back, "A veiled woman came to me in a calm dream and told me to discard of those charms, which appears to have been sound advice. Your Commissar still has one in her possession. She, or you, will do with it what you please, but my crew will have no part in it." He concluded to allow Meinhardt to reply or Warren to voice his own concerns. Flint had decided to not mention the looking glass he had been given in the aforementioned dream. It was a matter he would rather divulge to the Commodore without Warren being present.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Kortova glared at the door as if her own gaze could force it to open. Unlike a person, it had no qualm staying steady in the wake of her expression and under her intense scrutiny. Huffing, she stalked back into the group of sailors. All had shed jackets by now and were in short sleeves, while the bell-bottomed sailors had rolled up the fabric up to their knees in makeshift shorts. Done normally for the cleaning crew on deck, all had adopted the style now just to keep cool. The marines had a harder time of it as their fatigue pants were not meant to be worn in such a way.

"Its too hot!" The captain announced. "We'll return in the evening, when it is cooler. Everyone should drink and rest up." Because god knows thats exactly what I'm going to do. There weren't many complaints. The temperatures far exceeded even the hottest days in Sokrovy, and the vanguard group began packing up.

Kortova glanced back at the doors once last time and nearly stuck her tongue out at them. Instead, she looked towards Kuromaki. "I'm returning to have tea in my cabin. Join me if you want, otherwise I'm going to bed." And with that, she was off, a little escort beside her as she trudged off back to the ship.

Lieutenant Williams directed the withdrawal from the structure and the island. A command post was left on the beach where a few unlucky sailors and a squad of marines were set up under canvas tents, but granted additional rum rations at their discretion in the future. Williams was somewhat adept at the political and commanding aspect of the carrot and the stick. Naval Academy had reinforced the natural talent he seemed to have. Back on the ship, the monstrous industrial water pump and filtration unit was put to work taking in ocean water, filtering it, and producing a small amount to refill the grey water tanks. All crew were permitted to rest, and with the shore teams returning, the cramped showers were being used nonstop. The water was tepid, but at least it was cleansing.

With the captain taking her break in her cabin, he took to the bridge to continue his work. First, he wrote up documents for handling morale with the assistance of Ensign Torkov Lipetski. The ensign was another naval academy graduate and had specialized in a small department concerning internal affairs and communications. On the off hand, they were propagandists, but no one openly admitted or said as much if they didn't want to start a fight. Their main need to address was their work down in the structure. Like all good propaganda, there was truth at the core. Officially, their statement to the crew was that they had encountered a demon and demonic activity, and the vanguard team - due to their initial exposure - were put to work to limit dangerous exposure to the rest of the crew. A protective measure. After all, Captain Kortova had wrangled with a demon and had turned it away, at the risk of some minor mutation. An unfortunate cost for a heroic effort.

More detail and expansion was put into the official fleet report that was bound to the commodore upon their return. Williams was utterly meticulous in his work as the hours ticked by. This island was some place of worship to unknown entities, termed demons only for the familiarity aspect of the labeled term, and not due to their apparent moral views of these creatures. These 'demons' were considered officially neutral. The Sokrovians had encountered the influence of these entities and consulted with one of them. He used the same story of Kortova interacting with one as a cover for her willing mutation by a charm, which he omitted all information of it existing. Irrelevant to the report. Likewise, Kuromaki had been been assisted by the 'demonic' influence due to the captain's intervention. Williams maintained a clear and concise record of events with enough flexibility to make alterations if needed and to stand up under questioning. As he realized this, he spared a sigh to himself. It felt a little... backhanded, though he knew the necessity of this. He was involved now anyways, and willingly.

Kortova kicked off her boots and sat back at her dresser, sipping on her tea and searching for a book, wondering if that woman would show up. She wasn't sure why she even invited her to drink with her. Maybe she wanted to see what that snake could whisper, or perhaps it was a tiny apology, since she did manage to secure access to the demon in the mirrored room.

The Sokrovians would rest up under the intensity of the heat until the evening, when the vanguard team would return to try the door once again. Plans were drawn up to gain access to that room, and some shaped blasting charges were put together in the armory.

 

[K0mori]

For a while, Kortova was alone in her room, and was about to conclude that Kuromaki wouldn't show when there was a gentle knock at the door. Kortova bid the visitor entry and the commissar soon entered. Like many of the other men and women of the vessel, Kuromaki had become overwhelmed by the crushing heat and had gotten permission to use the ship's bathing facilities, however, with Panok's blessing, it didn't seem quite necessary to bathe at all anymore, as sweat and any other perfections could be done away with by simply gazing into mirrors long enough...

She took the shower to cool off, instead, and her unique uniform from the Shinju Imperial Navy was quickly laundered by the same staff that handled the officers' clothes, so that they would be available for her to change back into when she was finished. She didn't don the entire outfit, however, and instead opted to stow the heavier elements away before finally meeting with the Grand Captain. She was now dressed in a simple collared blouse with long sleeves, red and black trim, a matching skirt, long stockings which had been pulled down into bundles above her shining black shoes, with their narrow yet flat toe and a slight heel giving an elegant yet authoritative stance.

In other words, even without her full, stately commissar's outfit, she was still the second best-dressed woman on the ship, behind the Grand Captain. While Kortova suppressed her intrusive feelings of attraction, Kuromaki gave a respectful bow before coming to sit with her.

"[I have not stopped thinking about that last chamber, and how we might crack its secret,]" she began once the standard greetings were through, which of course irritated Kortova as the latter did not wish Kuromaki to think of their efforts in terms of "we." If the doors were disenchanted, or otherwise pried or even blown open, the Grand Captain wished for all to remember it as her achievement alone, although she did not immediately interrupt. "[I have a theory, if you'll entertain it: I think the door can only be opened by someone who has been blessed by all four of the archdemons. Ishra told me about the trials briefly, as I said earlier, and mentioned that you had been 'twice blessed,' and with Panok, you gained a third with me. So... I am assuming that there is one blessing you did not receive? Perhaps a lower officer passed the trial? I don't know, I'm merely guessing since I can't ask many questions without speaking your language," she said, pausing to take a sip of her tea. Her diminished, claw-like hands struggled to maintain a grasp on the teacup and trembled all the while.

"[Although, having said that, I don't think that's what you invited me here to discuss. For someone who has trusted me so little since this expedition began, you ask me very few questions. Perhaps it was the lack of privacy, before?]" She gave a very sly smile and turned her head slightly. "[Maybe you want something from me that you wouldn't want others to suspect of you?]" She then laughed as Kortova realized what Kuromaki meant, and what the strange look had meant hours earlier when Kuromaki had first seen her budding demonic features.

She was flirting.

"[Haw, haw, I only kid with you,]" she added in an entirely, intentionally unconvincing fashion.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Kortova was surprised the woman showed up. She eyed her over the top of her teacup as she entered and took a seat, getting some tea for herself. The woman was dressed in a fetching ensemble for the weather today, keeping it simple but presentable; Kortova had followed a similar tactic and had removed her jacket and rolled up the sleeves of her white collared shirt beneath, which had a frilled frontside from the collar down a little ways, like a shirt of much older style. It wasn't only the jacket and hat that were twenty years out of fashion.

She listened idly as the woman spoke. The 'we' she spoke of earned a little internal hmph each time she said it. Such a presumptuous woman. It wasn't aided much by the fact that Kuromaki had given another good suggestion, concerning how to get through that door. Indeed there was another officer who had passed one of the rooms. Perhaps with her involved, the three of them would have the power to get inside. Damn that woman. She was making it hard to hold at arms length. Then she started to get teasing and Kortova reddened. Oh, the nerve of this woman!

"I can get whatever I want, whenever I want, with no concern to the opinions of nobodies," she said stuffily. "And I'll have you know I am a very pure and chaste princess of the great north." That sounded quite unconvincing, too, even as she turned her nose up with a haughty tilt. "Besides, whatever would put such ideas in your head that I invited you hear for some... some secret rendezvous? Hmph!" The admonishment was weak, wrapped only in a little bit of indignation.

 

[K0mori]

Kuromaki didn't seem phased by Kortova's sharp words. In fact, she had expected such an admonishment and merely gave a smug grin as the woman ranted at her. Her eyes did lock on the Grand Captain's when she described herself as 'pure and chaste.' The commissar's lip twitched slightly, and when Kortova finished speaking, she drummed her claws on the table twice before replying slyly, "[That's not how Ishra told it. Nonetheless, why wouldn't I expect secrecy? Your first officer killed a man to keep all this our little secret.]"

That word choice... Kuromaki was doing it intentionally.

"[And so be it. These are treacherous waters, madam,]" she added quickly. "[Confidence is more valuable than gold and silver here. And while we all are sworn to lay out lives down for each other, for the good of the fleet, it takes a certain sort of confidence to murder for one another. So here I sit, knowing what you did, approving of what you did, and yet I still believe you aren't ready to trust me.]"

She took a long sip of tea with trembling claws, and before Kortova could even react to Kuromaki's suddenly interrogative tone, the commissar added, "[...and I am not a woman to mistrusted, madam.]" She then gave a harmless looking grin, as if the threat had been utterly weightless.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Kortova maintained her composure and picked up a small biscuit on the little porcelain plate. She took a tiny bite from it. "Ishra says a lot of things! I'd never... uhm... sully myself, or something," she said flippantly, taking another bite from the biscuit. Soft and fluffy but with just enough crunch and form.

She flashed her eyes towards Kuromaki as she went on. "And you are a commissar. Does anyone every really trust those people without good reason? I've read books, you know."

"I will... agree... that you were of some slight assistance with that room. And your suggestion about another officer being needed is also," she grimaced slightly, "correct. But that doesn't mean anything. Everyone can be right from time to time. Some more than others, like me. You only just arrived this morning." She knew Ishra wanted her to be friends with her, or at least associates, or open, or something along those lines, but that still meant having to accept this outsider. Too good to be true? Maybe. Probably not a spy, though. Someone not easy to control? Mmm....

"You are such a hasty woman I'm surprised you even showed up dressed," Kortova added, returning a little barb from the earlier subject, watching Kuromaki closely.

 

[Infab]

Warren glanced to the commodore for a moment, then turned to face Flint. "If I may speek freely, Commodore, I wonder if my superior here will continue to try and destroy any artifacts he and his men come across simply because they don't like them?" he said, glancing back to the Commodore as he spoke. "Two charms of black aetherine destroyed. Yes, we uncovered new information about the types of aertherine, but you also just made one man a cripple. I'm sure if that other young man hadn't died in the room with the sarcophagus, you would have pushed to blow the sarcophagus up too."

He looked back to the Commodore. "We're here to study and explore, right? Not destroy artifacts that may hold valuable information. Be they found in ruins or caverns, or discovered upon our awakening from the various dreams that may come to us. We destroy these artifacts, we risk learning nothing. Or far worse, like that crewman."

 

[K0mori]

Despite the nearly unbearable heat, Captain Dobbs decided to search Island VIII one last time, as he was the sort of fellow who didn't walk away from a job until he was absolutely sure it was complete. Morale was beginning to flag severely, and he so he decided to only bring along a small team of volunteers. The rest of the crew that had come ashore were disappointed to find their ancient wine was as bitter as vinegar, and so they eagerly took up the opportunity to rest and drink water, with some heading for the infirmary on the Prophet, feeling lightheaded. Having recovered some of the fruit the team had spotted earlier on, Dobbs' team departed camp again and began to thoroughly search one final time for anything else of note, especially the mine depicted in the mural Dobbs spotted earlier.

As they walked, a young man was granted permission to cut the fruit open, which he did with a pocket knife. Inside, the flesh was a very juicy and sweet-smelling, and, with the risks carefully considered, the same young man cut away a small piece and took a nibble. He regarded the taste as more bland than the smell, but otherwise remarked that that he felt fine. As a precaution, they were all forbidden from eating any for the next hour, so that any latent effects could be witnessed. It would be a catastrophe, after all, if the entire team were to sample the fruits, only to find them poisonous, or be stricken with some kind of horrible mutation.

The day wore on, and eventually, under the drooping fronds of a huge palm tree, the team found a concealed depression that was roughly square in shape- highly unnatural. They picked up their shovels and set to work, gradually unearthing a tunnel entrance. The fragmented remains of a rusted iron hatch were mixed in with the soil, giving it an ugly, reddish hue. Once they had punched through to the hollowed rock beneath the soil, the men dropped into the darkness with an almost manic possession, trying to get out of the sun. Even Dobbs found it hard to think straight as he blinked the sweat out of his eyes, and he followed them in recklessly. To their luck, there was nothing dangerous at the head of this cave; to their great disappointment, it only took a few minutes of sifting through the ancient piles of rusty ore to determine that this mine produced simple iron and nothing more.

Dobbs sat himself down on a rock, relieved that he had not missed out on anything grand by leaving early, but there was a sickness in his stomach that troubled him. Lifting his canteen up, he found himself out of water, and when he looked around at the others, he soon realized that around half of his volunteers had also gone through their supply. It was a long walk back to the camp in the heat, whereas this cave was cool and dark, and apparently safe from any monster or the much dreaded shadow mass. Dobbs agreed when his team begged to rest here, and ordered them to ration their water out to each other to prevent heat stroke.

Only a few minutes later, the Captain found himself in severe pain, doubled over and then on his side, unable to walk. Water was offered up to him, but his intuition told him that he simply needed rest after overexerting himself. So there they sat for the greater part of two hours. Since the man who tested the fruit sample hadn't contracted any illness, and in fact seemed better rested than the others, it was decided that they would drink the juice of the fruits they had picked. One by one, they pricked the skin of one of the orange fruits and sucked the nectar out, and it had a profound effect on their health and morale. It seemed that the fruits weren't just inert, but actually beneficial- it was practically medicine to the beleaguered sailors.

Within seconds of swallowing some of the sweet juice, the knot in Dobbs' stomach began to resolve itself, and soon, he was ready to lead the return trip. At 4PM, Dobbs' expedition returned to the ship, delighted to report that the fruit had been the great discovery they were hoping for after all.

Inside the ship's laboratory, Lonstray attempted to discover the purpose of the coal dust aetherite mixture. His initial observations brought him to a swift realization: the coal dust was enriched in some way which became obvious under a microscope. A gray substance was interspersed within the natural black powder, and although he was able to separate some of it from the mixture using some very fine metal tools, he could not immediately identify the material. It had a flaky texture and was rather soft, and so he concluded that it couldn't be a mineral. It had to be something more chemically complex.

---
​

The Nixe's infirmary was clean and modern, and had few patients as the flagship hadn't suffered many injured since the expedition began. Meinhardt was resting in a bed positioned within view of a porthole window, where the Commodore was propped up in a way with his pillows so that he could look out over the placid waters. The approach of the other leaders alerted him, however, and he gently turned his head to meet them. The distant look in his eyes told them that he was under quite a bit of medication, but was willing to speak.

The ship's medical doctor explained to them that they would need to be brief, as Meinhardt's pain medications were wearing off and he would need another dose soon, but would wait for now as he would otherwise lose his mental clarity. He would continue to rest in a stupor until the next morning, when he was due to host a debriefing with the entire fleet before departing the Ossuary Islands. While Commander Warren clearly wished to speak to him about his dream and the black aetherine he was carrying, it was Captain Flint who went first, informing the Commodore that he had committed a gravely dangerous act by destroying the two charms he had recovered from the pyramid expeditions, and badly wounded one of his men in the process.

Meinhardt cleared his throat. "Captain," he croaked, "your actions are... out of line. While you've doubtlessly gathered some interesting information, we always have to be weary of taking pointless risks. Given what I know of how you and your crew have conducted yourselves, I suspect the knowledge you've gained could have been attained without the losses you've sustained." He paused and allowed Commander Warren to interject.

"Mr. Warren," Meinhardt snapped after the Commander had spoken harshly of his superior, "Captain Flint has made mistakes, and as your commander I will address those mistakes myself. But you are correct; exploration and study is our chief concern in this place. It is not our privilege to deny the scientific community access to the things we find along the way because they frighten us, or we don't understand them." He sharply inhaled and winced.

"It has occurred to me that if I had not survived the attack on the beach yesterday, then this fleet would have lacked a plan for succession. I don't believe it is appropriate for me to declare a favorite among you all, but given that Captain Flint is, by default, in command of two ships, he would be the most likely to assume command. Mr. Flint, I am still confident in your ability to lead your men and women. But I do not consider your actions of late to be the model I would prefer this fleet to adopt. I am not going to punish or reprimand you further, but instead... Mr. Warren, by my order I am promoting you immediately to Captain. You two will command the Alleghenian contingent in tandem.

"And if I should die suddenly," Meinhardt added, "I would expect the captains to select a new leader among themselves... a fair... vote." By the way he was speaking through clinched teeth, it was clear that the Commodore was in agony. However, he had one more pressing question. "Where is Ensign Kuromaki? You said she had a... black aetherine. If they're as dangerous as you say, perhaps they should be kept... under lock and key?"

An attendant stepped in with a syringe, ready to administer the next dose of painkillers. "Gentlemen, the Commodore is having quite a bit of trouble breathing. This conversation must be postponed."

Meinhardt nodded, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. "Find her," he grunted. "I'll speak with you both tomorrow."

---
​

"[I was a commissar. I'm a demon now,]" Kuromaki replied. "[Or... I will be. We both will,]" she continued to muse. When Kortova joked about her eagerness, she snickered at the thought. "[The best time to act is always in the past; the second best time is now, or so they say. But, I will not press the subject any further, for now. On a different subject... your eyes and teeth are fascinating to me. I suppose I'll soon develop similar features. I would never have believed that I would be excited to corrupt this human form of mine, but, well, of course Ishra had the answer, just like my dream promised me- the dream that led me to your ship. She couldn't reverse Halja's magic to lift my curse, but she had the power to change my perception.]" Kuromaki gave an unsettling chuckle as she looked over her increasingly monstrous arms. "[It's as if I've been mesmerized... it's... it's an improvement, over what I was.]" She grinned excitedly.

 

[Radley]

Flint exited the infirmary with Warren and Rourke as they were ushered out by the medical staff who quickly shut the door on the trio before attending to the commodore.
The three men were now left alone in the corridor, and when the sound of Meinhardts agonizing grunts seized behind the bulkhead, the creaking of the ship was their only companion.
"Allow me to congratulate you on the promotion, Captain Warren" Flint said suddenly, breaking the silence while turning to face his colleague, "But this changes nothing. The Commodore may be versed in the ways of the meridian, but he knows neither of us as we do."

He paced up next to Warren while Rourke remained an earshot away. "You and I both know I'm not on this expedition to be your nanny." he said in a low tone, "And If you've come into possession of a black charm, I'd suggest you throw it away...". Flint paused briefly before looking back to the closed infirmary door. "But since our superior has told us to hang onto them I guess you just ought to lock it up and throw away the key." He concluded before signaling to Rourke to follow him out of the Nixe. In the stairwell to the main deck, Flint turned around to face Warren again, "And let's hope we re-united with that Shinju girl soon. I got a feeling she's the last one that should have one of those." he said down the hall before turning around and leaving.

Once Flint and Rourke had made their way back to the Terror, the former took a bottle of water and glared at the pyramid while taking greedy gulps from the canteen. The Commodores words clung to his thoughts as he gazed with loathing over the necropolis. Flint was no fool, and any man worth his salt would have to admit that clouded judgement had perhaps lead to more harm than good. One man was dead and another had lost his leg. But throwing out the results for the methods was something he could not look past. The black aetherine, or perhaps the abyssal and corrupting soot that clung to normal red aetherine, we're not gonna be of use to any one. The murals and the remnants of the city were clear enough, if one were ready to accept any bargain to emerge victorious, the fall from grace could surely not be far behind. But the commodore made a half-decent point. In order to avoid and counter it, they needed to study it. Suddenly, His actions seemed quite foolish to himself. It was if he was not thinking clearly, like his thoughts we're pulling him without his body being able to properly control itself.

Flint drank the last drop from his canteen and cast a final look towards the ziggurat that dominated the city's landscape. In the back of his mind, the sarcophagus made itself apparent once again. Flint would never be able to forget that chamber.

He wished he would never have found it.

After a while he simply sighed, and went inside to have a bath and a meal.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

"I must agree that these changes are... fascinating," Kortova admitted, glancing towards the mirror on her boudoir. "I wouldn't say its a corruption of the human form so much as it is an improvement. A unique change in presentation, one could say. I've always adored the theater and the fine arts. There have been some most delightful applications of makeup on stage, in some very advanced forms. Plaster to heighten cheekbones or to curve a brow. Powders, creams, and ink to change entire complexions. Hair dyes, even. What we have been blessed with is not unlike these applications - except these are no masks." She grinned, mostly to herself, so that she could examine her fangs. Her tongue poked at them curiously. "There is beauty in the human form, no doubt about that. I'm a perfect example of this. But these enhancements are exactly that. Enhancements. To make one stand out above the rest of the masses."

"One must wonder how much further these changes will go. Evidently, there seems to me little boundaries in this place. Your... hands... are evidence enough of that, I suppose," she grimaced ever so slightly.

"All of that said... neither of us will be demons. We'll be better than that. Something different and new. I suppose it is unlikely you have any particular allegiance to the Commodore, given the circumstances. Ishra said we are to be sisters," she said carefully, as if feeling out for the words, "so it... will be so. This is all secret, for the most part, to the other crews. Lieutenant Williams has a knack for these things and his report will be the official story. These changes to us are reportedly accidental. Not that I really give a damn what those other scoundrels believe."

 

[joshuadim]

With the success of finding what some of the men now were calling "super fruits", Dobbs and his expeditionary team made their way back to the boat with their haul of various fruits of sizes, shapes, and colors. Seeing how valuable they might be both to the general wellbeing of the crew, as well as to the small medical staff on board, Dobbs made his way over to Lonstray's laboratory aboard the ship. The scientist had been working while most of the research assistant's were relaxing, as seen by his current attempts to decipher what exactly the coal dust mixture was for precisely. The nature of such a thing had yet to be deciphered, yet Lonstray had already made progress by finding a strange substance within the mixture itself which warranted more exploration in the future. By this point Lonstray was content for the day and was a bit surprised to see the captain visiting him.

Dobbs brought forth one of the fruits taken from the island and gave a smile. "We found these fruits that can cure ailments by just drinking from them. Can you help cultivate more for us?" he asked the scientist. Lonstray looked at the fruit, then to Dobbs with a blank expression. "Captain." he said bluntly, "Do you take me for a bloody botanist?"

"I take you for a man of many talents. Surely something like this is well within your grasp?"

"It is well beneath me, Captain. I am not gardener, nor some farmer. I'm a scholar." Lonstray shot back, now annoyed by such a menial request. "It is work befitting of an undergraduate brat, not to some-" Lonstray then stopped, realizing what he had just said would work in Dobbs' favor to push the issue. Before Dobbs could even speak up, Lonstray continued on his tirade: "Absolutely not, I will not have my assistants be distracted by such things when there is more important, groundbreaking research to be done."

"I wasn't asking you directly, Dr. Lonstray." Dobbs spoke, raising his tone to the scientist. "And as long as you're on my ship, you will not speak to me in such a manner again." The two men stood still and stared at each other in uncomfortable silence as what few seconds passed seemed like minutes. It was until then Lonstray shrugged and spoke up: "My apologies then, Captain. Then what exactly are you asking of me?"

"Designing something to help grow the seeds of these plants." Dobbs simply said, before turning back towards the door. Before he fully exited however, he glanced at Lonstray once more. "I'd like it by tonight." he said before leaving for the bridge.

---​

Once Dobbs returned to the bridge of the Prophet, he had a telegram sent out to the Nixe to deliver his end-of-day report to the Commodore:

PROPHET REPORTING IN STOP
ISLAND VIII EXPEDITION SUCCESSFUL
MINOR INJURIES STOP
ISLAND VIII TO BE NAMED VANGUARD ISLE​

 

[Infab]

Warren watched as Flint and Rourke departed, dwelling on what both the Commodore and Flint had said. Kuromaki was already the least trustworthy member of the fleet as she was a Commisar stationed on the Nixe to watch the Commodore. Her homeland would want to know everything they found here, likely to use it themselves. He sighed, wiping sweat from his brow. Where would she be? Last he recalled, a message had been sent out fleetwide by her, looking for anything on an 'Ishra.' Perhaps they had found something on one of the other islands?

He turnes and headed back down to where Riddle was, rubbing his temple in pain as he arrived at his Master Chief. "Let's get back to the Jackal for now. Probably best to get ready for tomorrow." said Warren. "Also, inform the crew than i've been promoted to Captain, and from now on I should be addressed as such."

Riddle saluted. "Aye, Captain." he said. The men behind him saluted as well, and soon the group were headed back to their boat. During the walk, Warren spoke to Riddle again. "Also, keep an eye out for Kuromaki. The Shinju commisar. The Commodore's wondering where she is."

Riddle gave his superior a look of confusion. "Does she not keep in contact with him? I mean, she's supposed to be stalking him like a vulture." Warren chuckled. "Apparently not."

 

[EdwardDewey98]

Alvarado quickly ordered his men and women to open fire at the trees, as they opened its mouths to try and devour the crew. The explosion, instead of intimidating the plant life, only aggravated it further despite the total obliteration of the attacking tree. But the tentacle-like roots on the trees were long and agile, and due to its bark, hard to cut through with machetes. For the first time in a while, Alvarado truly felt like he had doomed his crew. That is, until a magnificent avian creature appeared from the skies. And with a display of power, turned the assaulting trees into normal ones. Or at least pacified them, saving everyone in the team. The captain was dumbfounded. Did he just witness a miracle of some sort? Or another strange even in these strange waters that could not be explained through normal means.

"What was that all about?!" Sheridan, the explosives expert of the group asked the captain, while the rest of the crew ran to the burnt tree to put out the fire so it wouldn't spread through the jungle. "I... I wish I had an explanation. It... was too magical to be something scientific, but I wouldn't know... I think we just witnessed... a miracle!" Some of the crew looked at the captain, and some agreed with him. They had truly witnessed some sort of miracle by the Gods, while the more skeptical ones just shook their heads and continued to help around put the flames out. Once that was done and Alvarado checked that everyone is okay, he ordered everyone to continue the exploration. They didn't had a lot of time left, and tomorrow they would have to return to the other crews.

Inside the Correntino, Ana Maria Dos Santos was still holding the raw aetherite in her now human hands. To know that a Goddess was now watching over her, and to discover the properties of Aetherine was, while an honor, nerve wracking. What if she wasn't as good as Halja thought? What if she fucked something up or does something that could be catastrophic for the Correntino? The idea that she could trap the souls of all the crew into the raw stone caused her to tremble in fear. She placed the stone on the table and looked away, resting against the labs counter. Taking deep breaths before looking at the raw mineral. No matter her fear, there was always scientific curiosity creeping into her mind. She was terrified, but wanted to know so much more. And for that, she needed to train her abilities. Not only to please the beautiful Goddess, but also, satisfy her own scientific curiosity. She placed the stone in the container again, before going back to work on the plant. As soon as the crew was back, and everyone headed to bed, she would try meditating and learn the basics. She would not let Halja down.

 

[K0mori]

Kuromaki's heart fluttered at the Grand Captain's words, although she tried her best to hide her excitement. Although she had been brash during their meeting, it was essential that she be forward in order to shed the cloak of presumptions she had been forced to wear aboard the Nixe. There were many in the fleet who assumed they knew exactly who the Ensign was, as if all Shinjuku were the same, and as if all commissars were spies and nothing more. They correctly assumed she wasn't worthy of their trust, but for all the wrong reasons. "[I believe we are beginning to understand each other, now,]" she replied. "[We will be more than common demons, as you said, and you especially so. Which is why I requested to serve aboard your ship. But, now that I think of it,]" she added, thoughtfully, "[if you and your first officer wish to mislead the Commodore, then perhaps such a request would arouse suspicion. I should probably return to the Nixe, as much as I would prefer not to. I am not well-liked, as you can imagine.

"[But I will reaffirm my loyalty to the family we have been inducted into; if you need me for anything after tonight, I will see it through.]" Kuromaki glanced out the porthole window and then did a double-take. There were choppy waves hitting the shoreline, suggesting wind. "[Oh, madam, the weather has changed again,]" the Ensign observed.

---​

As afternoon gave way to evening, the sun finally began to relinquish its tyranny over the land and sea. The baked earth cooled faster than the placid ocean, causing a gentle breeze to turn up as the waters began to shimmer. Small waves appeared, and all began to appear closer to normal as dinners were served aboard the ships of the fleet. Then, as the sun began to descend from its perch in the highest reaches of the sky to a more sidelong angle, the winds changed again, blowing steadily from the south. Clouds on the horizon suggested a large storm or maybe even a cyclone was passing by the Ossuary chain. The weather cooled dramatically, from nearly a hundred degrees on the Fahrenheit scale to a far more reasonable 78. Exploration was once again safe, and a few of the captains were eager to conclude their inquiries before sunset.

While Dr. Lonstray set about building a small garden on the top deck of the ship with the help of a few engineers to cut properly-sized pieces, a few of his science associates went ashore to gather soil and haul it back in large buckets. Later, under the light of lamps, Captain Dobbs stopped by to observe a few assistants sewing the seeds of their so-called super fruits. Lonstray had long since gotten bored and returned to his lab to pursue more interesting discoveries.

Captain Alvarado and his team, having recovered from their harrowing experience, spent these same hours continuing their exploration of Island IV, and were badly worn down by the effort by the time the sun began to set. When they finally reached the large uplands in the middle of the island, the daunting task of climbing the slope crushed what remained of their morale. Sensing the danger of pushing them further, Alvarado decided to call for a withdrawal to the beach. As they walked, the breeze began to pick up into a sustained wind, restoring their spirits. They talked and joked as they looked forward to supper, and didn't seem to notice that they had stumbled upon ruins until they were practically surrounded by them.

"Woah... stop and look at all this," one of them said as she approached a column of brick and mortar. The remains of what appeared to be a single complex of buildings, and not a true town, were badly overtaken by the jungle and covered in thick vines. They spread apart and began to take note of the shape of things, looking for anything which may have survived the onslaught of the ages. It wasn't long before they found an entrance cut into the hillside- a tunnel directly under the uplands they turned away from exploring. The Captain stepped forward, shining a lantern down the tunnel, which seemed very sturdy as the first twenty feet or so was clad entirely in stone for support, while the rest was simply mined out from the bedrock. He was about to turn and signal for the team to follow when he felt something drip on his shoulder from above. Looking up, he was shocked to see the much-feared shadow mass creeping in from the cracks between the stone cladding!

Bolting from the tunnel and back into the setting sunlight, he grabbed his canteen and poured what was left of the water over his neck and shoulder and furiously wiped himself off with a rag. One of the scouts helped check him over and confirmed that he had fully rid himself of contamination. His heart still pounding, Alvarado needed to decide whether it was worth continuing to explore these ruins with the knowledge that they could be home to similar horrors.

And finally, on Island VI, Kortova, Kuromaki, and the Sokrovian team descended into the bowl for a final time, and made their way to the antechamber.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

The high winds were no great concern to the Sokrovian crew, as much of the rugged coast of their great nation was used to harsh gales, mist, and arctic rainstorms in the south. All were dressed in heavy canvas and yellow rubber rain cowls which shrouded their bodies from the coming rain, with hoods pulled up over caps. Kortova in particular seemed slightly sour as she had to forgo her towering bear-fur cavalry officer's headgear, which would not fit underneath the hood. She strolled alongside Kuromaki. "[I was considering what you said in my cabin. About the commodore. You know, misleading him could be useful, though I believe it is too early for us to try anything. Truly, right now, I don't think there is much we can try. We'll stay our course as we are. He still has vastly more experience in this place than we do. He is somewhat invaluable. I think the best thing to do is to consider who else is a worthy brother or sister.]"

Once down into the bowl, they passed some sailors at the top with a little weather station, checking the current weather and attempting to devise a forecast for what was coming this way. They'd have to make for deeper waters if there was something serious about to go down. Even a bad storm could be dealt with, but it was best done carefully. There were no harbors here to take shelter in, or a drydock ready for repairs.

Into the chamber they went. Kortova summoned Junior Quartermaster Helena Ivanavich, the woman who had gone into the greed demon's chamber. With her was the crown she had taken from the chamber, worn proudly upon her head. Lieutenant Williams was summoned, too.

Kortova glared at the door. "Alright. Lets get this thing open. I'd rather not dally if it is to storm, this place could flood."

 

[K0mori]

Kortova, Kuromaki, Williams, and Ivanavich stepped up to the door. Again, the Grand Captain's touch moved the door slightly, but it wasn't until the latter placed her hand on the carvings that the door finally gave way, sending all four stumbling forward into a darkened room. It smelled very musty and dirty here, moreso than the other chambers, and when it's sconces were magically lit, it became clear why:

There was a small collection of books within the room, untouched by moisture for hundreds, or perhaps thousands of years, surrounded by piles of red aetherine stones etched with the markings seen elsewhere on this island, some raw aetherite glowing softly blue, and what appeared to be very small purple aetherine stones, which looked like the gemstone in Kortova's ring. In the middle of the room was a stone altar, covered in arcane symbols. In the center of that altar was a hand print.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Once the doors opened, Kortova felt her heart start to race in anticipation. Finally, after all that work and embarrassment! She stepped inside ahead of the others, just slightly, as Williams took her arm carefully just to slow her down. Books. Books weren't bad. They appeared to be in exceptional condition at a glance, though very dusty. Special handling would be needed here. There was no telling what marvelous secrets they could reveal. She was something of a connoisseur herself when it came to books. After all, a noble woman had to be well read.

The aetherine was more surprising, though she didn't go any further into the room. No telling what would happen touching them, let alone going near them. She didn't know if they were more dangerous in large groupings or not. "Junior Ivanavich? Have some containers brought up. With gloves, for the aetherine. We'll be taking all of that," she gestured vaguely at the entirety of the room. Her eyes drifted towards the altar with the hand print and pouted her lips just slightly, considering it. Part of her wanted to touch it, part of her was afraid. She knew Williams would object.

"[Your opinion, Kuromaki?]"

Lieutenant Williams helped direct some boxes to be brought over, as well as for some sailors to suit up in the waders and fasten on diving gloves to handle the aetherine. A few ensigns were itching at looking at the books, and some were arguing over how to best move them.

 

[Radley]

The officers mess was quiet as usual, as Captain Flint did not like discussing official business while eating. He had taken a bath earlier and was now dressed in his usual uniform, as were the rest of the officers as the weather had changed to a more manageable heat. Flint had earlier informed them of the days business, such as the Commodores disapproval of the destruction of the artifacts as well as Warrens promotion to captain. "It's not like it would mean anything." One of the second lieutenants said as he finished his meal and poured himself a glass of water. The rest of the table didn't make any input as they noticed that Flint stopped his eating to look to the officer with a berating glare. "Well, sir... according to protocols, a promotion made by a foreign superior can not be considered official unless ratified by the naval command." he explained hastily in an attempt to clarify his position on the subject.

"Be that as it may, Mr. Fontaine," Flint replied, "But for the remainder of this expedition it should not matter". He finished the last of his meal before putting his cutlery aside and scanned the rest of his officers, "Warren is now a Captain, but it was never my intention to commandeer his vessel. We will continue forward as we have thus far" he concluded. The officers gave affirmative nods in response, and the mess was gradually emptied after Flint had issued the upcoming orders. Everyone was to remain aboard the ship until they were due to cast off the next day, as well as prepare the ship for a possible storm during the night. The gun crew would conduct a few dry drills whilst the engineering teams double checked the systems before departure. Given the fact that the rest of the crew had time off, most of them were in their cabins playing dice or cards, in the common mess playing music and singing and some even taking time to clean the crew quarters.

"So, you're saying there's something about Warren? I thought you wanted to keep him at arms length after that dream?" Rourke said with both confusion and interest. Flint and his two closest men were standing on the bridge, overlooking the horizon where the a storm was gathering. "He'll have more room to manoeuvre within the fleet with this new promotion as well." Bates added.
Flint studied the growing clouds on the horizon through a pair of binoculars. "Although the dreams in this strange ocean have proven both a curse and a boon, one can not deny the fact that otherworldly influences are at work." He replied as he put the binoculars away and went to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of rum, pouring out glasses for the trio.

"My judgement has been rather clouded. Especially in light of recent events. I have this feeling someone, or something, is manipulating me." Flint continued as he swirled the rum in his glass, "Warren didn't insist on sending his own men to inspect the sarcophagus." This statement made Rourke raise an eyebrow. Even though he had divulged everything about the ziggurat and it's contents to Warren, the latter had not made any strenuous efforts to pursue any of it. Flint continued to explain to Bates and Rourke why he felt his colleague was no longer a problem, such as the fact that he had remained quiet about the destruction of the charms. All in all, Flint had become convinced that his suspicions against the new captain had mostly been the product of a dream, ones which more accounts had revealed could be linked to deities. If deities controlled these dream, they could have just as easily set him against Warren. But all of Flint's worries were not dispelled yet. Several thoughts still plagued his mind, such as the veiled lady and who ever she was looking for, the young soldier wearing the black charm, the looking glass. Perhaps it would be unwise to completely write Warren off.

As the commodore had put it, it would be more beneficial to study something carefully up close than to be unaware of their possible hazards.

 

[K0mori]

The officers carefully looked over the final chamber, agog at the glittering treasure all around. At the Grand Captain's order, it would all be recovered, although they would likely need to leave the stone altar behind. By the looks of things, it had been carved as the room itself was being quarried out, solidly attaching it to the floor. While Kortova held back, Kuromaki once again displayed her eagerness, moving in to get a better look. "[I don't think this room is a test like the others,]" she replied when asked for her opinion on the ritual implements around them. "[The trials were meant to prove our worthiness of joining the family, which is accomplished via the alterationist, Ishra, and her 'seat' outside, in the bowl. This is something else... an additional privilege afforded to the worthy.]"

The other officers followed Kuromaki in as she inadvertently proved the safety of the room before them. Kortova stepped up to the altar and looked over its intricate carvings with the commissar in silence for a while. There was gold inlaid carefully throughout narrow grooves in the stone, but not for the sake of glamour; every notch and line carved into its surface seemed carefully planned for a particular purpose. Along with the hand print in the center of the stone, there was a bowl-shaped depression just above, surrounded by small pegs made of gold or carved purple gemstones, and suddenly the two women realized that it was a miniaturized representation of the ruins they now stood within.

Ivanavich, meanwhile, took a step around the altar and found herself looking at a darkened shape in the furthest corner of the chamber. She squinted a bit until it became clear; there was an ancient wooden chest here. Eagerly, she alerted the others as she lifted the lid, which had once been secured with an iron lock. It had long since rotted away, allowing them easy access to what lay within. There, they were greeted by what appeared to be more treasure; there were hundreds of small gemstones and a long silk scarf interwoven with golden fibers. Ivanavich gasped, and before Kortova could stop her, reached for the scarf.

It was alive.

All three, Kortova, Kuromaki, and Williams, jumped back when the unnatural movement began, the scarf seemingly slithering upwards and out of the wooden confines, snaking around Ivanavich's arm and up to her neck, constricting, and then pulling her with irresistible force into the box, breaking the bones in her arm in the process. She screamed, and while Williams made a move to retrieve her, he hesitated as he didn't know how to grab hold of her without getting himself entangled with whatever thing was dragging her in. He also fumbled for his pistol, but that too seemed pointless as there was nothing to shoot at, only a cloth. The two women watched in horror as the scarf tightened around Ivanavich's neck twice more, the force causing her to flip over onto her back with her chin tilted to the ceiling, her legs kicking fruitlessly in search of some purchase, some kind of leverage, to no avail. Her crown fell from her head, clanking off the side of the chest and rolling away.

Then, impossibly, she was lifted completely off the ground, the sound of snapping bones and tearing flesh disgusting all present as she was twisted and contorted by the living fabric, its weave encircling her tighter and tighter in a coil and sending a spray of blood across the room. She had ceased to scream as she was now completely dead, but the living would suffer the image of her remains loose all human shape before being sucked into the chest's opening, until at last the heels of her boots fell over the side and the top of the chest slammed shut, hiding the carnage it had created. While blood pooled around the base of the horrid thing, the other three scrambled away, out of the room in search of safety and, in Kuromaki's case, a place to vomit.

 

[joshuadim]

After observing the small plots made to attempt to cultivate the fruits they had found on Vanguard Isle, Dobbs decided to retire to his quarters for the evening as everything was calm now without much else to do. It wouldn't be until in the morning where the Prophet rejoins the rest of the expedition and moves on to the next location that the Commodore would lead them to, so there was plenty of time to relax and to ruminate. As Dobbs went about writing his thoughts for the day into a journal, a lonesome thought came to his mind as he slipped a few pages back to his first encounter with Astrius: What exactly can I do? he thought to himself as he scratched his chin. Obviously, the encounter with the water monster showed he was capable of destroying such things with his hands... but was there more to it than that?

And so Dobbs sat up and started moving his hands around, trying to get something to happen. He let out a grunt as he motioned a hand to a nearby cup, and then to other nearby objects in the room. And when nothing happened, he felt quite silly as he sat back in his seat on his desk. Perhaps I'm going about this the wrong way. he thought to himself, writing down the thought in his journal. He was grateful that no one had been nearby to witness such a thing, for they probably would think he was starting to lose his mind. Rather than do anything physical, perhaps it was something different that needed to be done? After all, he wasn't thinking about doing such a thing to the water monster and he ended up doing it anyway. Perhaps it was subconscious?

And so, Dobbs sat cross legged on the center of his bed and closed his eyes to concentrate. He breathed in deeply and focused on his immediate surroundings: the comfort of his quarters, the ever too familiar sounds of the ship, the faint sounds of footsteps. He took it all in as he sharpened his focus...

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Marine Private Tovitski Ershov was having a smoke on the top deck of the Archangel at the stern, looking out over the darkening ocean horizon as storm clouds gathered, churned, and loomed. Foul, black clouds. He had his eyes searching for the devil's glow - a green tinge of light that often appeared in terrible storms, such as during the occasional tornado on the plains or valleys. They'd be in for a hell of a frenzy if they had to deal with a gale of that nature out here. The watchmen had a better grasp of things from their posts on the bridge, and the fellow up on the main mast had been up there for hours. His bunk was on the lowest part of the rack and near a door. If water started to wash through an open porthole or loose seal, he'd be the first splashed. He'd have to get an idea of things himself. He didn't need his things getting soaked. Maybe Reyvich could hold onto his belongings if it came to that.

"Private Ershov?" He didn't like that tone, nor the voice it came from. Sergeant Viren. Was he in trouble for smoking again? He was on the top deck, that shouldn't have been the case. Ershov turned and saw Viren's stern gaze. "Lieutenant Williams has requested you to the island. Immediately," he said gruffly. "What the hell does the lieutenant need an assault pioneer for? We bunker busting, sergeant?" Ershov grinned, but Viren didn't laugh. He never did. Nor did he rise to the bait. "A... dangerous creature has been encountered. It is stationary. The grand captain wants it burned." That caught his interest, and he flicked the cigarette away into the water. "They can't douse it in oil and throw a match?" He asked again, Viren's gaze hardening. "Are you disobeying a direct order, trooper?" Another bitter laugh from Ershov, who shook his head. "No, sergeant. It's a pleasure to burn. I was just curious. Try not to burst those shiny tunic buttons." And with that, Ershov sauntered off the deck and down into the bowels of the vessel. His precious was waiting for him.

---

Grand Captain Kortova stared numbly at the chamber entrance. Half dozen marines were lingering in the archway with rifles and shotguns at the ready. More marines were inside, guarding the disturbed sailors who were stowing away the books into crates, trying to ignore what had just happened on the other side of the room. She'd seen some executions back home, including someone break a leg so that bone was jutting through after falling from a horse, and of course that sailor Williams so graciously executed with a bullet to the back of the head. But what just happened in there... she wasn't sure that image would leave her easily, and not any time soon. Her stomach felt like it had been tied into a twist and her enthusiasm for treasure had been stymied after seeing a human being get crushed like a dish rag. Even Williams didn't look very pleased. Losing a deranged crewman was one thing, but someone worthwhile, and part of the inner circle, too, was another entirely. The other crews would probably think them inept with two casualties already. The loss, the embarrassment, the fact that her treasure was trapped - not good feelings. Kuromaki had dipped away somewhere, and from the sounds of it, had thrown up. Kortova sympathized. At the very least, their yellow rain slickers had caught the splattering of blood, so their clothes were clean. Well... hers was, fortunately.

There was a small commotion in the back of the main chamber as three men arrived. One appeared to be a marine carrying a fire extinguisher and some box of clinking bottles, while the other two were dressed up in thick, cumbersome hooded jumpsuits. They looked like aviator suits, minus the fur collars, or diving suits, without the rubberized sheen. Both men - or women, the suits hid all features - were wearing bug-eyed and long snouted gas masks, with tubes snaking over their shoulders and to little boxes on their back. One was armed with a shotgun, while the other had a singular, stout cylindrical tank on their back besides their air filter. There was a valve contraption at the top, and a hose at the bottom, which snaked back around to a plunger like gun cradled in their arms. Williams had explained what this was to her when he called for one. A flamethrower. Some devilish military device she had no knowledge of, used for clearing fortifications, or in a more innocuous role, clearing vegetation.

"Private Ershov, assault pioneer flame specialist, reporting," the marine said, voice muffled as he offered a salute to Williams first, and then Kortova. The man reeked of cigarettes and ash, along with another, sharper chemical smell. How fitting, she thought. Lieutenant Williams stepped up and conversed with the man, and she caught snippets of the conversation, still in a slight daze. "We're not even at a third or forth filled," Ershov explained. "I have about... I'd say four, maybe five seconds at most of sustained fire. As you requested, we're on a light and diluted mixture. It'll be less sticky but the oxygen mixture is at an equivalent ratio, so the temperature and feed won't suffer. You asked for a torch, sir, and you got it. A wooden chest - if its actual wood - will be charcoal dust. If its flesh or something, well, we're going to have some soup tonight." Kortova overheard that and gagged.

The orders went out. The sailors packing up the books and aetherine into crates were recalled, and they all shuffled out carefully with their loot, the marines covering them as all weapons were trained on the box in the far corner of the room. Ershov stepped up and examined the chamber. "Stone - a good environment. We'll get some heat backwash nice and proper, but no big flame, not with this load. No where for it to crawl far. 'sides, I can make any flame dance the way I want. I know the angle."

Ershov sauntered into the room with his assistant, dressed in similar sweltering flame retardant gear, but armed with a shotgun. He steadied himself and prepared for rapid slam fire while Ershov adjusted his nozzles and leveled the stick-plunger towards the chest. He flicked a switch and a thin little pilot flame, no bigger than that of a match, ignited at the end of his polearm device. The box ahead of him looked innocent enough, but apparently it made a snack out of an ensign or something. There was probably flesh inside, he figured. The smell would be suffocating. The chamber was also small enough that there'd be another backwash from behind as air would rush in when the flame ate it up.

With a nod to his assistant to fire if the box managed to move, Ershov gently tickled the trigger of the flamethrower, which burped out a short jet of superheated flame. The device bucked in his arms but he held it steady with a grin on his face beneath the mask. He gave it another pull, and another slightly longer burn as the fire nearly blinded him and sent the temperature soaring to dangerous levels. By his estimation, he had one and a half seconds left of fire in his tank when he stopped, but it should have been enough. Ershov stood steady in case more was needed, as did his assistant, ready to unload buckshot in slam fire in case the chest decided to scoot around.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

Alvarado's heart was still pounding from that experience. The fabled black ooze that had turned one of the Alemmanians into an eldritch horror, and it almost touched him! The rest of the crew looked into the cave with fear. None of them wanted to set foot on that place, and were begging for Alvarado to lead them back to the ship. But the captain took a surprising decision. "Marcos and Juan, unload the diving gear. I'm going in." he said, while removing his regal-looking jacket. The men looked at Alvarado with concern. "Captain you can't go in there! Even if you are covered, gods knows what might be inside that tunnel!" Alvarado let out a chuckle. "A captain leads by example, my friends! I know the risks, and I understand how deadly that... ooze can be. I have no intentions to die as a monster."

As he continued talking, he began to put on a diving suit. It was of surprisingly good quality when compared to everything the Platenses had on hand. "...But if there's something of value that can make the Republic strong, then I have to bring it back. Let me remind you that we are here to represent and strengthen our nation. We have to take risks! We are Platenses! We were born through war and we lived fighting for our rights. None of you forget that!" Once he was fully dressed and the suit was properly adjusted, the crew handed their captain several items. A flashlight, a machete which he attached to a belt on the suit, a revolver and several sticks of dynamite. He took a last look to his gear before turning back to his men and began shouting so they could hear him. "...Should I not come back, Mancinelli shall take my place, Respect your brother... and I beg all of you one last time, to respect Doctor Dos Santos. She's a Provincial, and a sister. Never forget that... See you on the other side, compañeros!" Done talking, Alvarado light his flashlight and began his descent into the opening.

 

[K0mori]

In the safety of his cabin, Captain Dobbs set about meditating on the events of the past few days. At first, it was difficult to clear his mind. So much had gone on at Constellar and Vanguard that he had many questions - an overwhelming amount, in fact - but eventually he managed to let go of his stresses one by one. He focused on his breathing, and felt a familiar sense of calm, as if he had acquired skill with this sort of exercise during one of his dreams. Like everything else, he didn't dwell on it, and once he had tuned everything else out, he felt a sensation. In his mind's eye, he could see his cabin take shape once more, but in an abstract sort of way. The corners of the walls came first, and then the vaguest outline of his furniture. When he tried to grasp the image, it eluded him, but he knew he couldn't get fixated. He needed to relax, and allow things to be as they were.

Over time, the image returned to him, but he didn't attempt to interact. In his serenity, he awakened to the fact that there was no hurry to any of this searching. It didn't matter if his meditation went on for ten minutes or ten hours, so long as he grew in the process. Over time, he began to sense finer details; small specs of light floating in the air caught his attention, and without consciously lifting his arm, he lifted it, and one such spec landed in the palm of his hand and stayed there. Gently, he opened his eyes, and was amazed to find the light in the palm of his hand. It immediately vanished, but for one moment, he knew that he had held it. At the same time he felt relaxed, he also felt as if he had exerted himself in some way, perhaps by focusing on ridding himself of all other thoughts. He didn't think he could reach that point again that evening, but smiled, because he knew there would be many days ahead to practice.

---
​

Ensign Kuromaki returned to the room where Ivanavich had died minutes earlier, still dripping with the woman's blood and looking utterly distant, perhaps traumatized by what she had witnessed. As she walked up to the Grand Captain, the latter saw, from the reddish smears under the commissar's eyes, that she had been splashed by gore in the face and had fruitlessly tried to clean herself in the other room while she was sick. Kuromaki silently walked to the edge of the room and picked up Ivanavich's crown, then turned and left again, with all the other sailors who were currently vacating the room.

Minutes later, the two men arrived with the flamethrower that had been called for by Lieutenant Williams. With everyone safely evacuated, Kortova looked on as a massive blast of molten fire erupted from the device and thoroughly engulfed the mimic chest. The object's lid blew open, a mere silhouette in the inferno, and it thrashed around violently before tipping over and twisting itself, the false wooden planks curling into something organic and impossible to discern. It happened almost instantly, and when the flame was extinguished and the hazy smoke cleared moments later, there remained nothing except a charred husk of some alien-looking creature, and a giant purple crystal glowing brightly in the center. It was the size of a human heart, and vaguely shaped like one, too.

Grand Captain Kortova glanced around to get an impression of everyone else's reactions, and at that moment noticed that the door into the chamber of greed was closed. Unsurprisingly, Kuromaki wasn't present, and so Kortova knew that she had taken the crown inside.

Kuromaki, meanwhile, was staring at the idol, the crown clutched tightly in her hand. She swallowed before speaking, her mouth reeking of bile. "Gedra," she spoke. There was no response from the statue. "I need to know: was it greed that killed that Sokrovian woman you blessed, or was she just an idiot?" She held up the crown toward the bare head of the idol. "I believe myself to be more worthy of your investment, either way. And so I've not come to beg or even negotiate- I am here to demand it, as a demon ought to!"

She placed the crown on her own head and waited for an answer. For what seemed like an eternity, there was nothing but silence, but her conviction didn't waver. Instead, it crew, and the intensity of her scowl finally got a reaction from the arch-demon. "Very well, Tsukiko! You shall have it!" she replied, amused, and the doors thrust open behind her. The bloody ensign then rejoined the Sokrovians looking exhausted, and handed the crown off to the first person who would take it. Stopping next to the Grand Captain, she gave Kortova a rather frightening, almost insane-looking grin. "[We still have all their blessings, between us,]" she declared.

---
​

Having said his farewells, Alvarado bravely, or perhaps foolishly, trotted into the tunnel with his diving suit on. For a while, as he plunged deeper and deeper into the darkness, he kept his eyes trained on the ceiling, waiting for more of the horrid fluid to leak in. Occasionally, he would notice droplets falling through between the blocks, but eventually, he entered into pure bedrock, which was totally smooth and lacked the cracks through which it could enter. Now believing himself safe, he relaxed a bit and breathed a bit easier, but he didn't dare take off his protective gear. Eventually, he began to hear a mysterious, rhythmic sound ahead, and he was drawn towards it.

The tunnel finally reached a massive chamber, and his jaw dropped as he entered. In the middle of the dome-like ceiling, there was an opening to the sky above, which was nearly dark. By his own estimate, it was now roughly eight o'clock- the end of twilight and the beginning of night. Down below, there was an astonishing number of stone monoliths arranged in circles around what appeared to be a solid column of pulsating red - and black - aetherine. Small arcs of lightning popped against the stones, sending ripples through a dark pond of water which seemed to make up the entirety of the floor. Large, silver-plated tools and implements of unknown function were positioned at various "islands" in this pond, interspersed with the monoliths.

He then turned his flashlight to the edges of the pond and circled the light around the room. There were tall, black shadows here which seemed to bend as the light shone on them. At first Alvarado thought he was imagining it, but he reached for his machete as a precaution. But then...

He was suddenly seized from behind and thrown forward! As he tumbled, he caught a glimpse of one of the shadows and realized that they were cloaked, skeletal beings, nearly ten-feet tall each! His glass visor, despite being enclosed by a brass cage, took a hard blow against the stone floor and shattered, sending glass into his face as he fell into the pond in the center of the chamber. He was now in a mad panic, gripping his machete and revolver and swinging the former at the cloaked ghoul in front of him while charging. Somehow, he managed to maneuver around it while wearing the heavy diving gear, and he began to sprint back up the tunnel screaming in abject horror at the turn of events.

He emerged under the moonlight, members of the crew startled by his terrified expression. They at first approached him, and then scrambled away- he was covered, inside the suit and out, with beading droplets of shadow mass. Practically babbling incoherently, he threw one piece of gear after another onto the ground while his team raced to find enough water to wash him off, but as the minutes passed, they began to get a sense that something horrible was occurring- they couldn't yet see the adverse effects but they knew they weren't acting fast enough. Finally, Alvarado was nearly naked, and all of the beads had been wiped away. He felt very, very sick, and could only imagine what would happen to him now.

 

[Radley]

Flint had remained on the ship for the remainder of the day. He watched as the crew trained or remained at ease, finally enjoying some actual leisure time. Whilst Flint had been away exploring, Bates had noted that the crew had slacked off a bit. Not to such a degree that it could jeopardize their operations, but enough that it could be noticed in their performance.
Flint seemed to have a presence that, at least in the men on his crew, instilled respect and devotion. He would need to maintain that presence, especially now that the fleet seemed to require more stability.

In the evening he had another round of rum with Bates and Rourke, discussing the events of three days on the Ossuary Island. Bates, who had only kept an eye on the ship, didn't have much add to the conversation. He did, however, make irritated comments about how the Alamannian scientists had "rolled their thumbs waiting for someone else to risk their skin to bring home artifacts.". This, coupled with the Commodores strong dismissal, made Bates weary of further involvement with the crew of the Nixe.

Rourke thought about the mural, and how all they had seen and acquired could be interpreted from the long story set in mosaic. He also remained somewhat disappointed they had not done anything to the sarcophagus. After all, Parker had lost his life trying to clear the chamber. Flint shared his lieutenants lust for more knowledge, but when it came to the sarcophagus, he felt he had made the right choice. Something feverish from beyond had called him to it, and while his insatiable hunger for answers had led one man to his death, his old age had stopped him before he could make a fatal mistake. Now, the sarcophagus would remain closed. And perhaps for the better. Some things are not meant for men to know.

After concluding the meeting with his closest officers, he turned in for the night. As he had gotten undressed and was washing his face at a small basin, he put the reddish looking glass ona nearby shelf. Studying his reflection, he still found it to be unchanged. With a gruff sigh, he turned away from the small mirror and wiped his face off before laying down and managing to fall asleep quite easily.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Kortova blinked at Kuromaki as she returned from the room of greed, having quickly accomplished a renewal of the blessing now that Ivanavich was dead. The woman was certainly of the industrious sort. None could doubt her drive, it seemed. An intimidating aspect in some ways. "[Yes, indeed, madam. I would say fortune is with us but we've had the pleasure to witness some rather deplorable things today. At least the... creature is dead.]" The marines were back into the room now, weapons sweeping over everything. Some had affixed bayonets and gently prodded various items and locations, testing strange floor pieces or parts of the walls that looked off in the wrong light. Sailors in their thick waders and gloves moved back in, nervously, but under armed guard they set back to collecting whatever else they could. Boxes lined with canvas were brought in to collect the aetherine stones, or a fair amount of them if there was too much to carry out, or if it seemed too dangerous. Kortova eyed these sparkling gemstones and wondered what powers they would unlock. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any more bouts of terror, but given what had happened to Kuromaki's arms... some experimentation for the brave and foolhardy would be needed later.

A few marines studied the glowing purple crystal in the remains of the monster, and a sailor stepped up with a fishing net on an extended pole. He attempted to fish it out if it was safe, and if so, store it in another little box so it could be studied. What had happened here today so openly would serve well as a warning of safety to the crew, Kortova felt. No secrecy was needed. The word would spread like wildfire, and the story would probably get more ridiculous and grotesque.

What was collected of the books and aetherine were covered with rain slickers to keep dry and brought back to the ship to be studied and catalogued. Mr. and Mrs. Alenko, the only married couple on the vessel, were both scholars and professors from the University of Constantine, the capital of Sokrovy. They had experience with handling documents, and were given the task of cataloguing, studying, and protecting the books. Mister Samuelson was a civilian geologist and chemist, who had the task of studying the types of aetherine. He was delighted to finally study these curious crystals and he assembled full protection attire as if he were dealing with acids - an apron, elbow length gloves, and a leather face mask with a polarized lens over the eye slit. The plan was to see how the aetherine reacted to certain substances - water, for example - as well as seeing how well they stored under various conditions so they could be kept safely. He even managed to get some strips of uncooked pork from the kitchen so that he could test the aetherine reaction to the meat, given that it seemed reactions were a danger. Just in case anything wild happened, he had a tenderizing hammer at the ready, and a sailor was present with his pistol.

Kortova returned to her quarters to unwind and have some more tea, though she needed to wash up first. She figured that Kuromaki wouldn't be far behind her so she left two cups out on the dresser. Thank the heavens for these rain slickers, she thought. Had blood got on her beloved uniform she would have lost it. It would have taken some time to get it out. Still, she desperately desired to feel clean, and so she had to suffer the indignity of bathing in the tiny washroom afforded to her cabin.

Lieutenant Williams returned to the bridge and directed the rest of the Sokrovian efforts. This was their last night here, and they were pulling out from the island. A small military crate holding two rifles, three pistols, a box or two of ammunition, a compass, crackers, and several flares were buried on the island beside a well marked tree. An old explorer's technique. If something bad happened on the journey, some supplies would be left unharmed at a previously explored location. The Lieutenant finished up his full report of their exploits and spent some time reviewing it. He knew it was going to be a pain to explain Kortova's so far small transformations, and perhaps even Kuromaki's healing.

First and foremost, his attention was on the apparent coming storm. The ship was locked up and items stowed as they drifted away from the shallows and into deeper water as night came proper.