NationStates Jolt Archive

[ooc: This is an RP. If you want to skip straight to the bit asking for players and miss the prose then scroll to the bottom of this post. I have a few… surprises in mind. This will also help build on the history of Anhierarch.

All are welcome.

And try to keep it Modern/Modern+

Magic and stuff is fine, too.

“Wooo-hoo!”

The diminutive plane rumbles throatily in the cold air, its white paintwork almost blending with the crisp mountain air of the northern reaches of Anhierarch. Inside, a pair of aviation enthusiasts grip the controls, almost delirious – it wasn’t often that they had a chance to fly their small two seater aircraft, especially not above the stunning, postcard quality scenery of north Anhierarch.

Sheer, untainted nature lay below them, thus far a verdant expanse of old-growth forest, majestic pines and conifers untouched for generations, stretching upwards almost a hundred metres. Below, the land had been rising steadily for some time, culminating in the weathered grey peaks of the Nalaxe, capped with a permanent coating of frost and ice. Perhaps a kilometer or two distant, the imperious wall of ancient rock loomed before them, one of the least explored mountain ranges in Anhierarch.

“Jan, y’mind taking the controls for a minute? I want to try out the camera I got – and these binoculars, too.”

The one addressed as Jan grins, saluting.

“Of course I don’t mind, Ira. She’s my baby… well, the photographic society’s baby, so that makes her my baby too.”

Ira rolls her eyes, giving Jan a friendly jab at his ear. The plane bucks momentarily, and Ira chuckles to herself as she digs her equipment out.

“Now, that’s not nice, Ira. Straight on to the mountains?”

“You know it, Jan.” She readies the camera, a fairly sophisticated model perfect for the types of shots she intended to do.

“Hell yeah.” He pulls back the yoke, gunning the throttle as he does so.

click “Geez, level her out already. It’s not the easiest thing in the world to take good pictures with you revving her up like that.” click

“Alright, alright…” The plane begins to cruise at a more sedate pace.

Click. Whirr. Click click. Whirrr.

Something catches her eye. A dark speck – optical illusion?

Maybe not…

She puts the camera away, reaching for the binoculars. She lifts them to her eyes, pensively scanning the silent mountains.

Where did I see it? Come on…. Ah, almost got it…… there!

“Jan… you’re the amateur archaeologist. Are there any recorded sites on these mountains?” Excitement and anticipation suffused her voice, but the sensors on Planet Jan failed to detect this.

He looks back momentarily.

“Um….no, not as far as I know. Check my laptop, I got the archaeological department of the University of Andulos bookmarked. If there’s anything, they’ll know.”

She quickly scuttles over to his backpack, laying the camera and binoculars on the floor with utmost care. Soon the laptop is activated, Ira fervently willing the computer to go faster. As soon as the graphical interface appears, her hands dance like dervishes on the keyboard.

Ah, here we go…

Hmm…. There…. National Institute for Archaeology, University of Andulos…. Dakka dakka dakka, listing of archaeological sites….. yeah, gimme the full listing…. Holy shit that’s a lot of sites! Mmm…. Ah, list by location…. Nalaxe mountains. Did I spell that right? Yeah. Dakka dakka….. there we go.

There were no listings.

Hot damn…

She scrambles for the extension lens, hurriedly snapping it onto the camera. Shot after shot after shot of the anomaly is taken in a flurry of faint mechanical noises. Finally, she speaks again.

“Jan?”

“Yeah?”

“Turn the plane around. Back to Ferne.”

“But what about the pictures?”

“Fuck the pictures.” Her eyes gleam. “We’ve got the archaeological discovery of a lifetime here.”

“What the fuck’re you talking about?”

“You’ll see.”

A Week Later

“And what…. evidence do you have to… substantiate your claims, Miss Fost?”

The director gazes coolly at the two amateur photographers in front of him, tenting his fingers above his desk. He raises his eyebrows in bland curiousity.

What a ponce….

Keeping her thoughts in check, Ira Fost calmly places a large manila envelope on the polished oak desk. With a fingernail, she slides it across the desk, her large hazel eyes meeting his.

“It’s all there, Director Kathak.”

Almost mechanically he retrieves the envelope, unwinding the string with altogether precise movements, with almost infuriating calm. Finally the photographs are pulled out, and scrutinized one by one.

He should have been an accountant…

The photographs show, in absolutely exquisite detail, a large stone portal carved into a snowy mountainface. A fairly simplistic arch, undistinguished humanoid carvings adorning the keystone. On either side of the arch a column is carved, in the formed of a hooded humanoid.

“Quite compelling indeed, Miss Fost. Pre-Anhyrch, almost certainly Elastan. Quite a find, I do commend you. But now I will require the coordinates.”

Here goes….

“I got a deal for you.”

His brow furrows, eyes narrowing.

“What are you talking about?”

Mentally, she steels herself.

“We come along for this expedition and we get exclusive access. We document your work, take nice pictures for the magazines. Big international hoo-haa, multinational expedition. All the glam and the glitz, the works. In return…. I give you the coordinates.”

He bridles, visibly angry.

“Certainly not. What do you take me for, a merchant? If you’ll excuse me, I’ll call security –“

She smiles. The aces were in her hand.

“And lose the archaeological opportunity of a lifetime? That sort of thing doesn’t exactly look good on your CV….”

He blanches – and snarls.

“Fine. It’s your life, and your funeral too.”

Another smile.

“We’ll be in touch, I trust.”

Moments later

Jan turns to Ira as they walk along the corridor, with Ira looking quite pleased with herself. She’s humming.

“Ira, what was all that about our funeral?”

“Oh, relax. Old git was just trying to scare us into forking over the co-ords. Hell, this is my baby, my find. I’m not letting it go.”

The Director’s Office

He stares pensively at the envelope of photographs, rubbing a signet ring on his right hand – an elaborate sigil, carved in black stone and set in slightly scuffed silver.

Oh dear…. So it has been found.

He picks up the phone, dials rapidly. A deep, rich voice answers on the second ring.

”Yes?”

“Gornes Kathak, sir. It’s Dur-Inkal – found at last.”

”That is good news. Why do you sound so worried?”

He sighs.

“There are complications, AK.”

”What?”

“We didn’t find it. Some photographers did. We have to make it a big, glitzy affair with a multinational expedition.”

The voice pauses for a moment.

”Damnit. That means we won’t be able to send a full complement… I hope those idiots realize how much trouble this is. Well, their funeral. Did you record the session?”

“Of course. If anything goes to hell… it’s their deal. Not ours.”

”Good.”

2 Days Later

A communique is sent to all reputable, major archaeological societies and institutions of higher learning in friendly nations. It reads:

Colleagues and associates from distant lands, We greet you.

Today marks a significant occasion in the history of archaeology in Anhierarch – in the past few days, information regarding a city once thought only to exist in myth and legend has surfaced – for those of you that have taken an interest in Classical Anhierarchi Mythology, it needs only to be said that the Lost City of Dur-Inkal has been found.

As a matter of course, we are planning an expedition to the site, to explore the interior of a city we never knew existed, to catalogue and retrieve priceless artifacts. A multinational expedition, it must be stressed, and we welcome you to send representatives to join in this historic event.

Please indicate to us your willingness to participate and we will be in touch with you.

~Director Kathak

National Institute of Archaeology, University of Andulos

bump

Define 'friendly nations?'

[ooc: Citizens, PRs and nationals not originating from a nation in the WBO or SATO are perfectly free to come.

Citizens of WBO/SATO nations may, of course, contact the Institute and request permission, permission that has to be approved by the government.]

bump

This transmission reaches the LRR base on Mars, by now a sprawling community of 10,000 inhabitants. In one of the buildings, facing Neil Young square, the town common, two archaeologists sit at a table by one of the large plate-glass windows, and sip coffe. One has a newspaper, and the other is leafing through a field Geology manual. The cafe's speakers play "American Dream" and a couple can be seen dancing on the carpet.

"Look at this."

The archaeologist with the newspaper, Neil St. Chrispan, hands the paper over to his bearded partner, George Henri.

"Ah. An ad relating to a discovery on earth. We should go and check it out."
"Just what I was thinking. We can take a corvette to the International Space Hub and work from there."
"What flight should we take?"
"The soonest one! I'll get my stuff. Meet me at the shuttle pad."

Neil runs back to his room, in the underground barracks complex, and grabs a satchel, which contains a small pick/hammer, a brush, several bags, field guides to archaeology, a catalog of earth cultures, and an eight Pu note. He meets George on the shuttle pad, where they board a shuttle for one of the space stations in orbit. When they arrive, they board a corvette to earth.

EDIT: Double Post

Da Bump

Hot damn.

As a Seldane, he was cut-out to be an archaeologist. Looking back on the past, in most ways, a part of that very same past. He still got looks walking down the hallway. But he didn't pay much attention, because you get used to the staring when you are seven feet tall and blue-skinned.

"I need the next flight out for this."

His boss, a rather charismatic fellow, almost drooled on the paper.

"As you wish. But you aren't going alone."

"No?"

"No, Jarette is going with you."

Woo. The woman of my dreams, having to share a flight out with me.

They were in the airport not three hours later.

"You don't look excited."

"Do I ever?"

"No, that's true."

They arrived at their destination, after a rather uninteresting flight, with the movie "Touching Me, Touching You, Touching Me Again" starring everyone's favorite Atonal Amigo. They looked up at the rather small airport they flew into.

"Well, where are all these university people?"

"Well, they didn't know we were coming."

They caught a taxi and took it to the University Archeological Department.

"We'd like to speak to Director Kathak."

By coincidence or causality, Director Kathak walks into the lobby towards the cafeteria as they voice their intention to speak to him. Smiling formally, he walks over to them, extending his arm.

"I'm Director Kathak. Normally, I'd ask that you make an appointment and all that tedious drivel, but I think we'll skip that today. Pleased to make your acquaintance, and you are...?"

They would observe that the Director was a tall, angular man in his mid fifties, possessing a receeding hairline and messy gray stubble. Thin wire-frame spectacles perch precariously on his nose, a silent statement of mistrust of modern medicine.

He wears a tweed jacket, and a ribbed turtleneck sweater of undistinguished hue. Puke green, possibly.

Around them in the lobby, students and tenured faculty alike look curiously at both the 7 foot tall blue skinned Seldane, and the Director's uncharacteristically friendly behaviour.

He grasps the Director's hand, and firmly shakes.

"I am Jondar, and this is Jarette."

"Pleased to meet you."

He began to wonder if he was over-dressed, in a starched herring-bone blue shirt, and tie. She was in a formal skirt and blouse, and he thought she was simply the most beautiful thing to walk the Earth.

Message To: Director Kathak, Anhierarchi National Institute of Archaeology, University of Andulos
Message Fr: Corps Commandant Sukhoi ralQuera, Archaological Corps, Division Six (Research and Development), Nova Reio, Tsaraine
Message Re: International Archaeological Expedition

To the esteemed Director Kathak, greetings.

In the interests of furthering the knowledge avaliable to the Dominion of Tsaraine in general and the Archaeological Corps in particular, I should like to propose a Tsarainese addition to your expedition; Researcher Commandant Riane Telhyazi.

Having organised and led several expeditions upon buried pre-Rukine towns of the High Steppes culture (most notably Kel Tarant in the Northern sector of the Wastes), I believe Commandant Telhyazi to be admirably suited to such an expedition.

Sincerely,

~S. ralQuera, Archaeological Corps Commandant

Message To: Director Kathak, Anhierarchi National Institute of Archaeology, University of Andulos
Message Fr: Corps Commandant Sukhoi ralQuera, Archaological Corps, Division Six (Research and Development), Nova Reio, Tsaraine
Message Re: International Archaeological Expedition

To the esteemed Director Kathak, greetings.

In the interests of furthering the knowledge avaliable to the Dominion of Tsaraine in general and the Archaeological Corps in particular, I should like to propose a Tsarainese addition to your expedition; Researcher Commandant Riane Telhyazi.

Having organised and led several expeditions upon buried pre-Rukine towns of the High Steppes culture (most notably Kel Tarant in the Northern sector of the Wastes), I believe Commandant Telhyazi to be admirably suited to such an expedition.

Sincerely,

~S. ralQuera, Archaeological Corps Commandant


<Begin Reply>

From: Director Kathak, Anhierarchi National Institute of Archaeology, University of Andulos

To: Corps Commandant Sukhoi ralQuera, Archaeological Corps, Division Six (Research and Development), Nova Reio, Tsaraine

RE: International Archaeological Expedition

I extend to you fraternal greetings, Commandant.

We would certainly be most honored to have the Commandant Telhyazi on this expedition. We are thankful for this contribution to the endeavor, and we look forward to a future enriched by ever greater knowledge.

~Director G. Kathak

<End Reply>

[ooc: Magic involved ;) ]

He grasps the Director's hand, and firmly shakes.

"I am Jondar, and this is Jarette."

"Pleased to meet you."

He began to wonder if he was over-dressed, in a starched herring-bone blue shirt, and tie. She was in a formal skirt and blouse, and he thought she was simply the most beautiful thing to walk the Earth.

The Director shakes both their hands, his grip more powerful than one would expect from an armchair archaeologist - of course, he wasn't always an armchair archaeologist. He smiles faintly.

"Yes. It's not often we get visitors here, so I'll just cut to the chase... what brings you to our humble institute?"

At the other side of the lobby, a student manhandles a large foam sabretoothed tiger.

[ooc: Going to visit a friend. Cya all.]

OOC: No worries. :) In it's bowl, hidden in the depths of Tsaraine, the Goldfish of Eternity turns, skipping forward a little in time...

Andulos University Archaeology Department, Anhierarch

Riane Telhyazi regarded the main atrium of the University with the calculating eyes of a Researcher or an Engineer, judging not structural stability but cultural influences on design, the progression from squalid huts to this more impressive edifice.

The journey to Anhierarch had been long and unpleasant; by subterranean maglev to Scheighu, by troop transport from there to Rakenno in Ekatori, and then in an ancient, overheated passenger plane from Rakenno through a variety of stops to Anhierarch.

The place seemed much more pleasant than Ekatori, she thought; but the Anhierarchi had been unified for much longer than the twenty-five years of Ekatori, and were not crushed by the weight of a warlord like Qosin Ra.

Reshouldering her heavy bag, she looked around for Reception, intending to introduce herself to the Director as soon as possible.

"We wish to be a part of the international team to explore the ruins you have found. We are capable of taking care of ourselves, there will be no detriment to you. We simply want the chance of a lifetime."

Meanwhile, Jarette's attention was diverted to the woman looking puzzled. Never one to be polite, she wandered off, and introduced herself.

"Hello, I am Jarette. Who might you be?"

Riane blinked, looking up at the speaker. Sometimes she hated her Sche'dayach ancestry, which rendered her so much shorter then most everyone else. It was made worse by the fact that she was short even for them; just over five feet tall.

"Riane Telhyazi," she introduced herself, "Researcher Commandant, Tsarainese Archaeological Corps. I'm here for the international expedition."

[ooc: Citizens, PRs and nationals not originating from a nation in the WBO or SATO are perfectly free to come.

Citizens of WBO/SATO nations may, of course, contact the Institute and request permission, permission that has to be approved by the government.]

OOC: Well, which do I fall into there, then? I could probably send you some people.

[ooc: GMC: Hmmm.... ah, just send them if you like. It's not like this has a great deal to do with international diplomacy, just relations between academia.

And anyone else who wanders into this thread - come on! Join us.]

The Director's smile broadens, though something in his eyes registers to the sensitive as the slightest sense of unease.

"Ah, excellent. Doubly honored to meet you, then. I wasn't expecting people so soon, but tempus fugit, carpe diem as it were."

He looks thoughtful, rubbing his grey-stubbled chin.

"Now, since we weren't expecting people so soon, if you like we can provide some accomodations - student dormitories. And you're quite welcome to peruse our libraries and galleries. If all things go as planned, we should be on a flight to the nearest city to the site itself within three days. There, we'll meet up with the documentation team, who will take photographs for publication."

He gives a brittle smile, and goes on.

"Perhaps you'd like to meet the rest of the Anhierarchi team? They're around here somewhere. Staff lounge, probably."

Das Bump

High above Anhierarch capital city, a small corvette re-enters the atmosphere.

"You guys allright back there?"

Niel throws up into a plastic bag.

"J U S T.... FINE!!!!!"

The heavy G-load takes its toll on the two archaeologists, acclimated to martian gravity. All of a sudden, the corvette stops to drop like a stone, and begins a more or less graceful nosedive.

"Ready to go??"
"We're ready!"

The corvette continues to plunge towards the city, its two occupants pressed against their seats.

"I'm leveling out now!"
"Here goes nothing!!!!!"

The nothing trails off, as the two archaeologists are helped out the door by a robot, thier parachutes deploying a few hundred feet below. The corvette then goes into hyperbola and exits the atmosphere.

The two archaeologists land inside the grounds of the University, damaging a bed of flowers. They walk around, dazed, for a short while. George pulls out a brochure, and looks around.

"This way. Come on, Neil."

Riane blinked, looking up at the speaker. Sometimes she hated her Sche'dayach ancestry, which rendered her so much shorter then most everyone else. It was made worse by the fact that she was short even for them; just over five feet tall.

"Riane Telhyazi," she introduced herself, "Researcher Commandant, Tsarainese Archaeological Corps. I'm here for the international expedition."

"What a coincidence! So are we! Here, the director is over here!"

Rather enthusiastically, he grasped her hand, and pulled her over to where the director was standing, hair bouncing the whole way. Everyone was dwarfed by Jondar, but that's not unusual. Jondar turned.

"Pleased to meet you," as he extended a rather large hand.

Kathak turns to the new arrival, the same uncharacteristically genial smile on his face.

"Ah... another one for the expedition?"

The two LRR archaeologists head twoards what is labled on the brochure as the Archaeology department, still in their blue and orange flight suits and fur caps.

"Ten bloody years to get the flowers right and some idiots decide to parachute onto it."

The resident gardener of the Institute, by the name of Moto, shuffles out of his workshop, gazing tearfully at the damage. The startling flight suits catch his eye, as do the fur caps.

"Oi! You two! Look what y'did to my flowers!"

Sweet Fate, he must be over two meters tall, Riane thought, reaching up to shake the Seldane's hand. She had to look up to see his face; otherwise, she would have been looking at his chest.

"And I you," she replied politely. "Researcher Commandant Riane Telhyazi."

"Ah... another one for the expedition?"

Riane turned to see the smiling face of Director Kathak.

"Yes," she nodded, "I'm Riane Telhyazi. Corps Commandant ralQuera mentioned me, did he not?"

He nods genially.

"Oh, yes. Spoke quite highly of you, as a matter of fact. Well, welcome to the institute. As I mentioned to Jondar and Jarette, it won't be starting quite so soon, so we've some accomodations on the Institute if you'd like.", he says, extending his hand formally.

"And as you may gave gathered, I am the Director."

Riane shook his hand.

"Pleased to meet you," she told him, "That should be wonderful."

OOC: Aigh, shortness.

He nods, his grip firm and handshake authoritative.

"Excellent."

At that point, the increasingly strident curses of the gardener reaches his ears. A small crowd begins to form just outside the building, with passing students and faculty giving the strange people in fur hats more than the usual glance.

"My word, something seems to have happened over there."

[ooc: If no one new joins up in 24 hours or so.... off we go to the dig, I think.]

OOC: Post 2000! Who is good?
IC:

Jondar looked over the heads of the crowd.

"It appears there are two humans in very vivid clothing."

"Let's go meet them!"

Jarette dashed off again.

"N..."

It was useless, she was already through the door.

Why must I be so attracted to her? Because she does things I would never dream of?

He almost melts with infatuation right there, all over the floor. Not noticing the Director's attention had been diverted, he spoke.

"So, Director, how will our efforts be coordinated?"

Kathak blinks.

"Hmmm? Oh, sorry. Distracted by the fur hats.... and the amazing range of expletives the garderner seems to know. Anyway, there will be a briefing once we've assembled everybody. In terms of technical difficulty the only problem should be getting there. Cold, dry air, isolated location - practically by the book. Just so you know, our main interests is the artifacts and a collection of history texts, as well as other tomes and grimoires."

His eyes seem to shine, or at least sparkle for a moment.

"It's history, really. It's said that those are the only written records of civilization before 13 CE, and that Dur-Inkal is the only surviving settlement from that time."

Riane looked up, interested.

"Please excuse me for asking, Director, but if this ancient site has only just been found, how do we know what's in it? If you don't mind me asking..."

OOC: Aigh aigh aigh, ugly shortness.

"Ten bloody years to get the flowers right and some idiots decide to parachute onto it."

The resident gardener of the Institute, by the name of Moto, shuffles out of his workshop, gazing tearfully at the damage. The startling flight suits catch his eye, as do the fur caps.

"Oi! You two! Look what y'did to my flowers!"

"Who, us? We didn't do that."

They continue to make for the archaeology department, this time at a perceptibly faster speed.

Riane looked up, interested.

"Please excuse me for asking, Director, but if this ancient site has only just been found, how do we know what's in it? If you don't mind me asking..."

OOC: Aigh aigh aigh, ugly shortness.

He waves a hand vaguely, dangerously close to engaging in a full discourse on Classical Anhyrch studies.

"Oh, anecdotal accounts from people that had contact with the city are quite clear that the people of Dur-Inkal were absolutely obsessed with history, as they subscribed to a apocalyptic, predestined religion. One such traveler actually transcribed a chapter of one of their books, a transcription which we recovered some years back. It's not very well preserved, and frankly he didn't know the language so some of the meaning is lost. We have extrapolated a significant amount of data from it, and it's pretty much on the spot. One tantalizing bit is that the account mentioned certain extreme climatic variances that our own data confirms."

He sighs.

"Now, if only Dur-Inkal hadn't been so bloodthirsty and warlike there might have been more contact between their academics and the learned people of the civilizations south of the Anul mountains."

"I see," Riane mused, interested. Interesting ... I've never done anything like this before. "We have that problem in Tsaraine too, I suppose - written language not being common in nomadic life.

"But," she pointed out, "Most modern predestinied, apocalyptic religions - Christianity, for example*, or modern the Rukine faith - don't seem very concerned with history. It's more an attribute of ancestor-worship faiths, such as the Pilgrim faith of Tsaraine's High Steppes civilisation."

She smiled shyly. "I did a study of it, in Training."

OOC: *This is the Tsarainese view of Christianity, which is very much an outsider's view. Please don't be offended.

Kathak shrugs.

"I suppose the inhabitants of Dur Inkal were rather unorthodox in that respect. It's an interesting fact that their calendar counted backwards. From my own studies, it seems that they believed that by analyzing past events they could infer with greater and greater accuracy the end of the world. No one knows what year they're on now, though.", he says, chuckling. "Not exactly a popular theory in today's non-deterministic world."

Riane's brow wrinkled in a frown. "Wouldn't that mean they had to rewrite dates of historical events and so on every year?"

OOC: Sounds like the system from Gethen, one of Ursula LeGuin's worlds. Every year is Year One.
Ugly ugly shortness...

He frowns as well.

"It's a bit hard to explain.... especially considering how little we know. But as far as we know their calendar system didn't use a linear, numeric system.... not exactly.

He sighs, a grins ironically.

"As you can see, we have a lot to learn from that city."

[ooc: Ursula Leguin?]

The two LRR archaeologists, having rid themselves of their fur caps, burst into the office of the Archaeology director.

"Hello. Are we late? We had a slight mishap on landing. Please forgive us."

The taller, younger-looking one carries a worn green bag, and the short, older, bearded one clutches a brochure in one hand and the strap to a courier bag in the other.

[ooc: The Director is in the lobby.]

The office is conspicously empty, and almost eerily neat. Memos and other scraps of paper are carefully placed in a small wirework tray, the pens are all in the penholder with all the right caps on the right pens. Other, more important paperwork is also filed into their respective trays and cabinets.

A tasteful abstract-expressionist work dominates one wall, while a terracotta bust sits on a small column in the far corner. The silence is overpowering, apart from the faint hum of fluorescent lights.

Abruptly, a slightly harried looking security guard appears.

"That's the Director's office and I'd appreciate it if you left it alone, and never, ever tell the Director you've been in there. He can get.... touchy. And please, kindly state your business."

[ooc: The Director is in the lobby.]

The office is conspicously empty, and almost eerily neat. Memos and other scraps of paper are carefully placed in a small wirework tray, the pens are all in the penholder with all the right caps on the right pens. Other, more important paperwork is also filed into their respective trays and cabinets.

A tasteful abstract-expressionist work dominates one wall, while a terracotta bust sits on a small column in the far corner. The silence is overpowering, apart from the faint hum of fluorescent lights.

Abruptly, a slightly harried looking security guard appears.

"That's the Director's office and I'd appreciate it if you left it alone, and never, ever tell the Director you've been in there. He can get.... touchy. And please, kindly state your business."

"We're here to see the director."
"We braved explosive decompression to see him. We came from Mars, too."
"Could you tell us where he is?"

The guard nods.

"It's lunchtime, he'll probably be in the Staff Lounge. It's next to the cafeteria, you go down that corridor, take a left, down the elevator to the lobby, and take a right at the green sculpture."

He points to a small photograph on the Director's desk.

"That's his picture, in case you don't recognize him."

The guard nods.

"It's lunchtime, he'll probably be in the Staff Lounge. It's next to the cafeteria, you go down that corridor, take a left, down the elevator to the lobby, and take a right at the green sculpture."

He points to a small photograph on the Director's desk.

"That's his picture, in case you don't recognize him."

"Ok. Thanks."

The two LRR archaeologists head down the corridor, George checking for his wallet. They were somewhat hungry from thier trip.

"I hope they take triangular rubber coins 6,800 miles on each side."

[ooc: No objections if they turn up in the lobby at my next post? Everyone seems to be there already.]

[ooc: No objections if they turn up in the lobby at my next post? Everyone seems to be there already.]

OCC: Nope. But I won't be about from 1Pm to 4pm today. Pressing matters of robotics.

[ooc: And I have the pressing matter of sleep, quite shortly. Sucks being in varied timezones.]

As the two LRR archaeologists enter the lobby, they would no doubt see the director in conversation with the other interested parties, including of course the 7 foot tall blue skinned humanoid.

It's kind of hard to miss, all things considered.

[ooc: And I have the pressing matter of sleep, quite shortly. Sucks being in varied timezones.]

As the two LRR archaeologists enter the lobby, they would no doubt see the director in conversation with the other interested parties, including of course the 7 foot tall blue skinned humanoid.

It's kind of hard to miss, all things considered.

OCC: I tried to pull an all-nighter over the summer. Didn't work, though. I'll have to do it some other time.

IC:

The two walk over to the congregation of other interested parties.

"Hello. Sorry if we were late. Could you please give us a recap on what we missed?"

The Director turns, distracted. He extends his right arm, rambling all the way.

"Mm? Oh. Hello. I presume you would be interested in the expedition advertised across the networks a fairly short time ago? Well, to cut it short, we didn't really expect anyone to show up so soon - but accomodations have already been arranged on campus, if you like. Tomorrow or the next day there will be a briefing, fairly comprehensive. Some equipment will be distributed as well - mostly survival stuff, I hope you brought your own archaeological stuff. Until then, you can peruse our archives digitally and physically, as well as roaming around the campus. If you've any specific questions I will do my best to answer."

[ooc: Heh, near the end of term I once stayed up 72 hours. Projects to complete..

The next day I fell asleep on the bus and would have missed the exam if not for the existence of the afternoon paper.]

The Director turns, distracted. He extends his right arm, rambling all the way.

"Mm? Oh. Hello. I presume you would be interested in the expedition advertised across the networks a fairly short time ago? Well, to cut it short, we didn't really expect anyone to show up so soon - but accomodations have already been arranged on campus, if you like. Tomorrow or the next day there will be a briefing, fairly comprehensive. Some equipment will be distributed as well - mostly survival stuff, I hope you brought your own archaeological stuff. Until then, you can peruse our archives digitally and physically, as well as roaming around the campus. If you've any specific questions I will do my best to answer."

[ooc: Heh, near the end of term I once stayed up 72 hours. Projects to complete..

The next day I fell asleep on the bus and would have missed the exam if not for the existence of the afternoon paper.]

"Er.....ok. Where are these accomodations? Or should we wait around a little."
"Lets grab a bite to eat. Do you exchange ningis?"

He points vaguely in the direction of the dormitory block.

"They're over in Khurgan block. Seems a strange name for a college dormitory, but we named it after a hero of the Revolutionary Civil War. He's still alive, actually. It's listed quite clearly on the campus map over there. If you want to head there now, just be sure to pick up the keycards from Estate Services, a counter inside the dormitory block itself."

He tilts his head slightly, wondering if he'd forgotten something.

"Oh, and the cafeteria food is free. It's mostly vegetarian, I hope you don't have any objections to that."

He points vaguely in the direction of the dormitory block.

"They're over in Khurgan block. Seems a strange name for a college dormitory, but we named it after a hero of the Revolutionary Civil War. He's still alive, actually. It's listed quite clearly on the campus map over there. If you want to head there now, just be sure to pick up the keycards from Estate Services, a counter inside the dormitory block itself."

He tilts his head slightly, wondering if he'd forgotten something.

"Oh, and the cafeteria food is free. It's mostly vegetarian, I hope you don't have any objections to that."

"Ok. Nope, we can handle vegitarian. But when do we get to see the site?"

He looks off to one side for a moment, calculating.

"Briefing's tomorrow morning, we'll fly to Ferne in the late afternoon, arrive just in time to get some sleep. First thing the next morning we'll board a helicopter, and it shouldn't be more than an hour or two to the site from there."

He looks off to one side for a moment, calculating.

"Briefing's tomorrow morning, we'll fly to Ferne in the late afternoon, arrive just in time to get some sleep. First thing the next morning we'll board a helicopter, and it shouldn't be more than an hour or two to the site from there."

"Ok."
"George, if we took the shuttle there we could be at work by now!"
"Patience is a virtue!"

Just move on to the briefing? No one else seems interested in joining...]

OOC: I'm fine to move on to the briefing.

0859

Tutorial Room 125

The archaeologists sit at the chairs facing the large whiteboard, perhaps reminiscing about their own days as students. A relatively sparse room, it's lighted with a battery of fluorescent tubes, harshly illuminating their features and the small cabinets at the other end of the room.

The silence is deafening.

At the very stroke of 9 am the Director brusquely enters the room, looking even more pallid and corpselike under the unforgiving lighting. He's accompanied by another man, early thirties, military disposition - dressed in a terminally boring olive green bomber jacket. He gestures, and several assistants file in, bringing large, battered plastic cases into the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Good morning. I... trust you had a decent night?"

0859

Tutorial Room 125

The archaeologists sit at the chairs facing the large whiteboard, perhaps reminiscing about their own days as students. A relatively sparse room, it's lighted with a battery of fluorescent tubes, harshly illuminating their features and the small cabinets at the other end of the room.

The silence is deafening.

At the very stroke of 9 am the Director brusquely enters the room, looking even more pallid and corpselike under the unforgiving lighting. He's accompanied by another man, early thirties, military disposition - dressed in a terminally boring olive green bomber jacket. He gestures, and several assistants file in, bringing large, battered plastic cases into the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Good morning. I... trust you had a decent night?"

Neil is still suffering from neck pain from his sleep.

"Stupid earth beds."

He nods curtly, and gestures to the military looking man.

"This is Joseph Curtis, our field advisor. He'll be briefing you guys on the conditions up there, and we'll run through the contents of your individual survival kits, which we'll be issuing. You're free not to take them if you feel you don't need one. That happens later. Now, I'd like to introduce you to some members of the team."

He nods towards the door, and several figures enter. The first is a rather spry, elderly gent, over six feet with a noble mien and short, graying hair. He waves.

"This is Arto Kynes, Professor of Classical Anhierarchi History. He will serve in an advisorial capacity."

A tall, somewhat stocky woman is next. Respectably well built, she too has a military air about her. Next to her is a rather bland looking young man, unremarkable and unnoticeable. They nod curtly at the archaeologists, and the observant among them might notice they each wear a ring, almost identical to the Director's.

"Officer Inyasta. Security Liason, as is the young man, Officer Elyin, next to her. If a bear decides to see what you taste like, they'll take care of it. Apart from them there's just the photographers and medic waiting for us in Ferne. Oh, and Dr. Tane. She'll be assisting you in the cataloguing of artefacts."

Dr. Tane smiles as the Director continues.

"Now, before we go any further, are there any questions?"

"No questions, thank you," Riane replied politely, thinking survival kits? it doesn't glow, how dangerous can it be?

OOC: Argh, I am cursed by the shortness. Onwards!

Joseph bumps his knee on the wooden desk.

"Ow! Sorry."

The Director glares at him.

"Bears now. But security officers warding off bears? Back home we'd have some woodsman with a double-barreled shotgun. Of course, I haven't been home for a good 30 years. But still, I am somewhat suspicious of a hidden agenda behind this expedition."

Joseph nods.

"Yes, bears. The mountains in which the site is located - well, it's a environmental reserve, healthy amount of flora and fauna. The pictures of the site's main entrance indicate that the passageway is open, forming a convenient den for any native creature. Quite frankly we'd rather not have a security team, but it's better to have one than to risk the whole team getting mauled. I've done some trekking in the northern mountains, and it's not just bears up there."

He pulls back a sleeve, revealing a knotted, fibrous scar running the length of his arm.

"That was a snow leopard. It's a good thing I heard it half a second before it hit me, or I wouldn't be talking to you right now. Make no mistake, it can get dangerous up there."

Bump.

OOC: Sorry about the away-ness...
IC:

Bears? Maybe I can act all tough-like in front of Jarette. But, knowing me, I won't.

"Our main goal is just to catalogue all the artifacts and learn as much as possible, correct? Or something more long term?"

The Director cuts in to answer the question.

"That is the central goal, yes. There is also the question of retrieving a number of invaluable artifacts, such as the city's History Archives. If there are any more incalculably valuable artifacts to be found, Professor Kynes here should be able to point them out. You'll also be mapping the place for future expeditions."

Joseph saunters over to the large cases, undoing the catches and clasps with practiced hands. He begins taking out small canvas pouches, about the size of commercially available waist pouches. An adjustable strap-buckle arrangement is included, to allow for a variety of carrying methods.

"These are your survival kits. Inside, you will find a first aid kit, two flares, firestarters, solid fuel, and military rations for two days. The chocolate-bar looking things. Each kit also comes with a small radio - it's worthless for trying to transmit, but you can recieve."

He passes one to the nearest archaeologist. And then another...

"Here, pass 'em out."

Goodness. I suppose I never though about basic things like eating. It's a wonder I haven't starved already.

"Oh, thank you."

He takes one, and places it on the ground, and leans it on his seat, before wrapping the strap around his leg so he wouldn't walk off without it. He then passes the remaining ones around the table. Jarette takes one, and enthusiastically straps it on over her shoulder.

Boy, I'll just be a walking library with my satchel full of papers, books, and empty journals AND this new bag of supplies. Bring on the world.

Joseph hums as the kits are handed out to the team.

"Regarding the food rations, they're the nutritional equivalent of three square meals a day, under heavy activity - these are the same rations used for our military. If it's really neccesary, you can make them stretch to about a week, for the absolute bare minimum of survival and light activity. You'll find that they're terribly greasy, so you probably wouldn't want to eat these things unless there's nothing left. Standard food rations, of course, will be airlifted to the site itself. As for the other items, I believe they're fairly self-explanatory."

He nods to the Director, who walks over to the whiteboard, sketching quickly.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Based on the sketchy anecdotal information our earlier research has revealed, we know a little about the layout of the entrance areas. So here's a rough schedule.

Day one. You will land at the site, and all equipment will be offloaded. We advise that you set up base camp in the Entrance Hall, which is fantastically huge for the period. It's accessible from your landing site by a long passageway, approximately seventy five metres long. Weather conditions will be severe, expect average daylight temperatures of negative ten degrees celsius, not accounting for windchill. It'll be warmer inside, so I expect you'll want to stay in.

On the second day, once the essential basis of base camp has been set up, you should begin exploring the first level. Never move alone - two at minimum, three's ideal. I advise you to ask the security officers to accompany you, should you encounter some form of aggressive fauna. I anticipate the vastness of the first level should have you occupied for the entire day, at least. We have no idea where the staircases are, so you'll have to find them. On this level, we expect to find housing, guardhouses, and other rooms of miscellaneous function.

After the second day, you should be able to begin to explore the sub levels, of which we have next to no information. We do know, however, that the libraries, archives and scriptoria are at least four levels down. That is the main goal. We also know that the lowest level holds the Grand Hall and the temple, you should find some excellent artifacts there."

I bet they taste better than what I usually eat. Negative ten? Bah. That's nothing. Jarette however...

"I can't wait. When do we leave?"

He never gets this excited, and he was almost flying out of his chair. Perhaps the supplies bag anchored him.

The director checks his watch.

"We'll be heading to the airport shortly after lunch. In the meantime, are there any questions?"

"Are the aggressive fauna terribly dangerous and active? Or do we just have to not act like a meal?"

I better not have to kill anything.

The thought of death made him queasy, but archeology didn't, because he considered it the celebration and discovery of life that happened to pass.

Joseph looks thoughtful for a moment.

"You have to remember that these creatures, in all likelihood, have never seen creatures like us. They'll probably run away - probably. The problem comes when they run out of places to run, I'm sure you've all heard of the proverbial rat in a corner. Now, I'd just like to ask you all - who's proficient with a gun?"

Proficient? No...

"I am, I suppose. I've used one before. Wouldn't some sort of tranquilizer dart work better? Why would we want to slay such creatures?"

"You might have to eat one."

He grins. Humor had never been his strong point.

"Now, in all seriousness, I've used tranquilizer weapons before - and when push comes to shove, they're not a very good idea. It takes time for tranquilizers to affect an animal's nervous system, time which you may not have. And they're unpredictable, you'll never know if you've got the right tranquilizer or the right dosage. I once shot a running lion from the back of a truck with a tranquilizer dart we were using to sedate elephants - the damned thing was running for at least a minute after that, then it dropped dead."

"Oh. Well then."

He slunk back in his seat, outclassed. His time would come.

OOC: The shortness burns! Skip to lunch?

[ooc: Sure]

Institute of Archaeology, Cafeteria, Staff Annex

After leading the team to the Staff Annex of the cafeteria, the Director disappears back into the crowd, citing a pile of paperwork to be dealt with.

Professor Kynes smiles genially at the team as the rest of the Anhierarchi team files out to queue for their food.

"Right, I suppose you're all hungry. There's quite a lot of food to choose from, though sadly lacking in quality - campus food, I'm sure you're all familiar with it. Try the fish stew - good, rich food, though a tad mysterious. Goodness knows what sort of fish it is."

The Anhierarchi fish stew would not be out of place in a Tsarainese mess hall; although these fish were undoubtledly caught in the oceans rather than bred in aquaculture tanks, Riane was no stranger to "mystery fish" dishes.

It tasted acceptable, although not nearly as strongly flavoured as traditional Tsarainese dishes.

Joseph's question regarding guns had suprised her - it made sense, but wouldn't they want to preserve possibly never-before-seen species? Still, she'd done her time in the Reserves (similar to Territorials, armed civilians in case of catastrophe and enemies reaching the cities), and had told him so.

[ooc: As a minor note, a significant amount of fish does come from the tanks. Just about all non-seafood meat comes from the tanks, too, which explains the relative scarcity, along with a firm local belief in the benefits of vegetarianism.]

Joseph tucks into a sizeable platter of local salad liberally sprinkled with vinegar, a glass of apple juice by the side of the plate, along with a still-steaming brazil nut loaf.

He looks around at the team.

"So, how's the food? Try the nut loaves, bit of a regional speciality - very much in demand across the continent, I understand."

OOC: Oh. I didn't know you used tanks. Odd coincidence, there. Want me to edit?

[ooc: If you want. Doesn't make much of a difference.]

Seafood was a treat for Jondar. He was used to the more earthy and bland Seldane dishes back home.

"This is delightful!"

Jarette was a little bit more finicky.

"Oomm."

He finished up his meal rather fast, as he understood his flight out was dependent of the rapidity of lunch. He saw everyone else still eating however, so he decided to go back for seconds, because he didn't know when he would get some of this delightful food again.

The two security officers finish their meals in all of five minutes, the movements of the knives and forks somehow more measured and graceful than hurried and frenetic. Once finished they excuse themselves from the table, heading to the storehouses to help with the packing.

Dr. Tane grins slightly, shaking her head at the two as she sips her creamy celery soup.

He scarfs down the remaining food and pats his stomach.

"Are we almost ready?"

You WANT to say yes...

She looks around, slightly paranoid, and sneaks off to empty the other half of her plate.

"I hope we're ready!"

Joseph looks around at the assembled team.

"All ready, then?"

[ooc] Wow, I know this is late in the game, but, can another be worked in (depending on timeline that I'll need to know) if so I/you can find a good time to do it, if not I'll just delete or minimize this post. Thanks.

[ooc: Sure, come along. Just post your guy(s) running in late and stuff.]

He grins.

"You know I am!"

"Do you hafta ask?" she bounced.

Joseph stands, chuckling.

"Well, you two sure are eager. Come on, I'll show you guys to the helipad."

As he rises, the rest of the Anhierarchi crew gets up, or hurries to finish their food.

WHOOOOO!

He bounded along, feeling rather light for a Seldane.


OOC: Sorry for the shortness, don't know what he is supposed to see.

As he rises, the rest of the Anhierarchi crew gets up, or hurries to finish their food.

As a slightly haggard man bursts through the door.

"Sorry I'm late, bug in the voice mail system." the unknown stranger calls out to the group. "Didn't know you were eating, do you mind?"

Before a response is given he grabs a plate and begins to fill it with all sorts of food from the line(?).

"Bah, not meat? Well at least I always bring my jerky with me." proceeding to reach into one of his many pockets on his khaki pants pulls out a large chunk of obviously over processed meat and tears it onto his plate, proceeding to eat it quite rapidly.

Drained of part of his enthusiasm, Jondar turns around. Seeing the haggard man pull some brown plastic sheets and then proceed to eat them surprised him.

Students...

He shifts his weight. The Anhierarchi pouch combined with his overstuffed satchel, blank paper and tomes bursting from the edges, was just enough to throw him off balance.

One of the numerous disadvantages of being short was the fact that you looked ridiculous carrying large bags, Riane thought. Loaded down with the Anhierarchi emergency pack and her own two bags, she felt like she'd soon sink under the weight of everything.

Joseph frowns, trying to piece together the situation. Despite this, he walks over to the newcomer, offering his hand genially.

"I'm Joseph Curtis. And you might be?"

[ooc:

-smacks forehead-

For reference, the staff annex is a room approximately 12 by 5 metres, with one of the long walls consisting of full length transparent windows - the view through those is quite a nice garden, where one might see students and staff generally poking around and relaxing.

The interior of the annex is painted in neutral pastel colors, a handful of surrealist paintings along the walls. A reproduction of an Archaic Greek vase sits in a corner, and the far wall has a very visible clock.]

Quickly gulping down the food still in his mouth and wiping his hands on his pants he responds.

"Lee, Lee Strata, sorry about that, service into and out of our country is quite finiky at times."

He grabs Joseph's hand in a proper grip and shakes it quite powerfully.

"I've got a bit of detail on this exscivation; mountainous, pictures, standard stuff, but being my field I was sent."

Lee shrugs, smiles but with a slight smirk before proptly sitting back down to his meal, which is pretty much disapeared with in a minute or two.

He's not a student? He's coming along? Uh-oh.

He realized that they would not be leaving soon, and the master of stoicism that all Seldane tend to be, he sat down on a bench, and pulled out a blank hard backed journal with the Seldane numeral one emblazoned in silver leaf on a black leather cover.

He shall be my first sketch.

He begins slowly, sketching in very delicate lines.

I've forgotten how relaxing this is.

He finishes the sketch rather rapidly, and pulls out his Event Log, and records the days events in his native Seldane.

He smiles, genuinely this time, the handshake returned with equal vigor.

"Ah, welcome aboard, Mr. Strata. It's a bit unfortunate that you've arrived shortly after the briefing, but I think we can get you up to speed in no time at all. Anyway, I'll just check if the crew over at the helipad are ready for us. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Joseph steps outside of the room, appearing just outside the window. He walks slowly through the garden, speaking rapidly into a cell phone with an obligatory finger pressed onto his other ear. Around halfway through the conversation, he grins at the team through the window, giving an exaggerated thumbs-up.

As he enters the room again, the rest of the Anhierarch crew gets back to their feet.

"Righto. You guys can head over to the pad any time now, the maps all over the campus can guide you if you lose your way. Anyway the easiest route is just to take the LOR train thingy. It's just over there. The rest of us have some things to take care of - we'll meet you at the pad."

With that, they leave the room, affably waving brief farewells.

OOC: Are we supposed to go the helipad or not?

[ooc: Yup. I noticed team members weren't exactly interacting so I decided a few minutes without Joe or -drumroll- the Director blathering about would be nice.]

An undisclosed room.

"You know what you have to do?"

The room was dim, a solitary ceiling fan spinning slowly above. There was no nameplate on the door, no furniture, no anything. The Director paces measuredly.

"Of course, sir." Officer Elyin nods fixedly as Inyasta packs a small crate. Soundly sealed, it contains objects of the small, metallic and dangerous variety.

The Director sighs.

"Damn those photographers. Damn them to hell."

"Should we... vanish them, sir?"

"Hmm? No, no. Absolutely not.... but there is ample chance they will die anyway. But you must ensure the internationals survive."

"Without doubt, sir." Elyin nods again, rolling back a baggy sleeve to reveal a curious contraption. There're a lot of springs, and a very wicked blade indeed. Satisfied with some obscure mechanical detail, he rolls the sleeve back.

"History depends on you. Kandor's writings were obscure and obtuse to the extreme, and I believe you will find things in there that will shed light on the prophecies. Master Kelande is as worried as any of us."

The crate is packed. Inyasta gets back up, handing two smaller plastic cases to Elyin - self defence weapons for the team - if they want them.

"Sir, about Professor Kynes...."

"Yes?"

"He's a Keeper, isn't he?"

The Director smiles paternally.

"Well spotted, Adept Inyasta. He is. Just an archivist, though. Not a fighter at all."

It was time.

They leave the room.

The two LRR archaeologists tag along with the main groups, by now changed out of the navy-blue and orange flight suits and into more respectable looking LRR fleet uniforms consisting of a navy blue Peacoat, plaid button-up, and white t-shirt and navy blue bellbottoms, as well as a pair of worn but polished black ankle-high boots with grip soles. They carry their survival kits over their backs, and George carries his dig kit over his shoulder. Neil, ever resourceful, walks a collapsible bike along.

Lee, after removing several "unnessisary" items from his survial kit takes out and places his Desert Eagle with two clips of ammo inplace of the tranq kit.

Looking out at the confused and shocked stares he responds, "Oh don't worry, its pretty standard for citizens to carry weapons in AF... ah, sorry, forgot, not all places require such extreem self defense, but thats beyond the point. I feel much more confertable with this than those tranq (or what ever was provided guns)"

With that he quickly strides to the front of the group.

Jondar packs up his notebooks and laces the satchel shut.

The moment i've been waiting for.

He walks over to the group that appears to be leaving for the helicopter, with Jarette tagging along.

"So, we take a train to get to the helicopter?"

[ooc: I sense dragginess and loss of interest. Shall we just fast forward to meeting the journos?]

OOC: The what? I'd just zip to the chopper ride, but its your RP.

[ooc: Hmmm... chopper ride sounds good. Then I can write uneccesarily long descriptive posts.

Let's see what the others think.]

[ooc] Me like fly. Also good char develope



Lee Strata climbs aboard the <insert heli-type here> along with his companions. The chopper lifts off with little trouble and soon it is wizing through the air towards the slightly undisclosed location. In the mean time, he looks out the window, enjoying the sites this land has to offer.

Even over the city, he sees clean buildings, with artitecture(sp) that is not only fuctional but asteticly pleasing. Compared to his last fight out of AFRP Int. Airport, filled with dirt caked low slung buildings, flying past the even bigger nondiscript boxes of the capital, now named for the ruling corperation, Mikosolf. He is also surprised to see the unmolsted lands, being used for, what seemed to be privateer farming.

But despite this, he turns his mind back to the task at hand,

[code:1:75c80cd74d]Aquire information which would be helpful to either Mikosolf, or damaging to any enemies. Furthermore, incase of mission failure of extreem degree gather what you can, kill others *IF* nescissary and report to rendevou point Alpha.[/code:1:75c80cd74d]

[i]Damn them and their "initives" I'm gonna enjoy this while I can he thought, but the mandate still rung throughout his mind.

[ooc: Flying it is, then.]

The helicopter's path takes them directly over the city of Andulos, a vast conglomeration of towers that reach to the heavens, an enormous profusion of steel, concrete and plastic, capital city of the Socialist Commonwealth of Anhierarch and home of over a hundred million people.

As they rise vertically from the helipad, Inyasta permits herself a small smile as the panorama of Andulos unfolds - a city of gardens and towers, less than 5% of the buildings were under five hundred metres in height, with the Commonwealth Tower stretching upwards for a full mile. From the point of view of an ascending helicopter, it was quite a sight.

Sunrise or sunset would be better, muses Inyasta.

High over the city, they would be able to see the glittering river that bisected the city, which the administration took great pains to keep as pure as possible. Stretching almost a hundred and fifty metres wide, the river's course takes it twisting lazily through the city, crossed a handful of massive bridges. Plotting the course of the buses that dominate the roads of Anhierarch, Inyasta imagines a great, pulsing heart, the life blood of the city. Of course, most of the traffic was borne by the subway and light rail systems, keeping the roads clear for punctual buses and emergency services.

Even from this height the generous plazas, parks and gardens are clearly visible, splotches of deep green in a city dominated by shades of white, cream and other pastel hues. Near the periphery of the western side, which was all but invisible from this point above the city, the great houses of industry could be found.

Looking beyond the city itself, one would be able to see the Great Forest itself, stretching across most of Anhierarch. The deepest core of the forest had been nigh untouched for thousands of years, while nearer the cities sparser forests could be found, the legacy of three hundred years of a cruel rape of the earth. A particularly observant eye would be able to discern the tree farms, which supplied Anhierarch and many parts of Aperin with lumber of the highest quality.

Curiously, in some areas of the eastern city periphery, a strange mixture of early 20th century ruins and overgrown shrubbery and forest could be seen.

Inyasta smiles at the others. "A nice view, no?"

"Beautiful," Riane agreed with a sigh, and was suprised at her own reaction. But it was beautiful, and functional as well; not the drab military functionality of Deep Tsarai or Nova Reio, but functional all the same.

Div5 needs to put more resources into the Terraforming Corps, she thought, To get rid of the Wastes. Tsarai looked like this, before the Event.

That wasn't exactly true, of course; in the photographs she'd seen, Tsarai had been a much more drab city than this, all straight lines and grey stone, with the black spike of the Obsidian Citadel rising from the center. An oddly foreboding thing, that, for the Citadel was now as flat as the surrounding plain, and all the land was glossy black.

Inyasta smiles inwardly at their response, quietly flexing her fingers.

Abruptly, the pilot's voice-over crackles on, in the manner of sardonic pilots everywhere.

"Hello, everyone. Hope you enjoy the flight, it's just a short hop over to the airport. Shouldn't take more than twenty minutes, in the meantime please fasten your seatbelts and return your trays to the upright position. Thank you, and have a nice flight."

"Yes, it is very beautiful," he said, half-heartedly. He recalled his home, the landscape of red clay earth at sunrise was far more beautiful than this. Or new snow in the forests of Pentamerous.

He flipped up his tray table as instructed and broke his nostalgic thoughts with thoughts of the future discoveries he might make.

Inyasta smiles inwardly at their response, quietly flexing her fingers.

Abruptly, the pilot's voice-over crackles on, in the manner of sardonic pilots everywhere.

"Hello, everyone. Hope you enjoy the flight, it's just a short hop over to the airport. Shouldn't take more than twenty minutes, in the meantime please fasten your seatbelts and return your trays to the upright position. Thank you, and have a nice flight."

Neil is already bored.

"We coulda been there already if we took a ship! These earth transports are sooo slow."

[ooc: Zooming along to the landing.... spent too much time on the prepping already.

Detailed post coming tomorrow.]

The helicopter begins its descent on to the Andulos International Airport, heralded by a crackling exchange of pleasantries and permissions with the resident air traffic control staff. After a brief descent, Professor Kynes steps out onto the tarmac, looking at an approaching young man. Carefully avoiding the blades of the helicopter, he shouts to be heard above the din.

"Welcome to the airport! The name's Jhon, follow me!"

Bags in hand, Riane followed the Professor out onto the tarmac.

"Where to now?" she asked Jhon. If she didn't put these bags down soon, her arms were going to drop off.

OOC: Aigh, short.

Jhon shouts over the thunderous noise of the helicopter blades, which even now are slowing down.

"To your plane. It'll take you to the airport in Ferne, hurry up, everyone. We've got a schedule to keep."

That said, the rest of the Anhierarchi crew pile out of the helicopter, bearing several large cases. The heavier supplies and equipment would be waiting for them in the cargo hold of the helicopter taking them to the site itself.

Jhon begins to walk briskly.

Keeping suit, Lee follows Jhon luggin his duffle along.

Jhon leads them to a small passenger aircraft, fairly capacious considering how many of them there were. While hardly as ostentatious as a Lear jet, nonetheless it is quite comfortable and well furnished, inside and out. Hurriedly, Jhon waves the crew up the stairway into the plane.

Inside, a cheery pilot greets them as they come in, giving each of them a firm handshake and introducing himself as Captain Talag.

"Everyone strapped in alright? Really tight schedule, I apologize for the hurry."

Riane dutifully replied in the affirmative to the pilot's question, along with everyone else. Sitting right next to the window, she was in a good position to see the city below as the plane lifted from the airport, and marvelled again at it's beauty. The design teams in Tsaraine could definitely learn from this place.

[ooc: I apologize for being so indecisive and ill prepared, but this is the first RP of my own creation. -grin- Bear with me....]

It's a fairly brief flight to the city of Ferne, perhaps an hour or so spent above the clouds. At present this was the fastest way to traverse the central mountain range, but there was talk of a new maglev network. The flight is essentially identical to the hundreds of civilian flights happening all over the world - except, perhaps, that there were no howling babies. The lighting in the cabin is soft and warm, and coupled with the muted hum of the engines, most of the Anhierarchi crew settles in for a quick nap.

About a third of the way through the journey, those still awake would see the highest peaks of the central mountain range stabbing upwards through the lower cloud cover, the highest mountains in all Anhierarch and a frequent haunt of local and foreign mountaineers. Majestic, grey and craggy, they are surrounded by the dense forests, fleetingly visible through the clouds.

Jhon leads them to a small passenger aircraft, fairly capacious considering how many of them there were. While hardly as ostentatious as a Lear jet, nonetheless it is quite comfortable and well furnished, inside and out. Hurriedly, Jhon waves the crew up the stairway into the plane.

Inside, a cheery pilot greets them as they come in, giving each of them a firm handshake and introducing himself as Captain Talag.

"Everyone strapped in alright? Really tight schedule, I apologize for the hurry."

The two LRR archaeologists sit themselves in their seats and strap on their seatbelts.

The flight continues. Eventually, it approaches Ferne International Airport.

The captain's voice crackles, as captain's voices do.

"Ladies and gentlement, please prepare for landing."

Finally

I sense a disterbance in the force, a post must be dying!

OOC: This must not die!

Clear!

*Zap*

Finally

I sense a disterbance in the force, a post must be dying!

[ooc: Apologies. Had connection problems. Everyone sufficiently recovered from their X'mas hangovers? ;)]

Efficiently, the crates and cases in the storage compartment of the aircraft are unloaded, wheeled over to mysterious looking contrivances that transport luggage throughout the airport - the largest international airport in the whole of Anhierarch. With any luck, the equipment won't be lost in the Escherian maze of conveyor belts deep inside the facility.

The team is led into a small, minimally furnished waiting room that still possesses a certain elegance in its spartan decor. A small tray is arranged on the matte black coffee table, bearing a pot of hot Xikuangese tea and several cups. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer an excellent view of the city.

After perhaps fifteen minutes of waiting, the door opens, revealing the two photographers, trailed by a University representative.

The representative takes the initiative to speak.

"Hello, folks, say hello to the media attachment to this expedition. Why don't you all introduce yourselves?"

OOC: Reporting signs of life in sector three...
A note: in Tsaraine, "media" means "propaganda team". Anyhoo, onwards to the IC stuff!

"Hello!" Riane said cheerfully, rising to greet the photographers. It was always a good idea to be friendly to the media, after all. They had close connections to the State Security Corps - or at least in Tsaraine, they did.

"I'm Researcher Commandant Riane Telhyazi, from Tsaraine," she told them. "Pleased to meet you."

Still smiling, she extended a hand to be shaken.

Ira Fost, self-assured and slightly buzzed from inadvisable amounts coffee, firmly shakes Riane's hand, smiling politely. Ira is in her late twenties, seemingly enthusiastic or possibly hyperactive.

"Nice to meet you too, Researcher Commandant Riane Telhyazi. I'm Ira Fost. Call me Ira, if you like."

Following close behind the blonde-haired, lightly atheletic frame of Ira is Jan. A firm believer in abstaining from caffeine, alcohol, tobacco, and practically every recreational substance in the world, he looks a good deal sleepier, his brown hair somewhat tousled and matted.

"Hi, pleased t'meet you too. I'm Jan Carax."

Observant eyes would notice that the security officers glare briefly at the pair.

Jondar looks around, focusing on nothing in particular.

He extends his hand to the press. "Jondar, Director of Archaeology, University of Odemia. How do you do?"

Ira looks curiously at him - then the penny drops, and it occurs to her to look upwards - she's not particularly tall. Admirably, she recovers quickly.

"Hi. I'm doing fine, you? Great to meet you, Director Jondar."

As the introductions continue, the University representative nods cheerfully as he surveys the entire team.

"Right. Are we all ready?"

"I certainly am ready."

The vigor was gone from his voice. He just wanted to get there at this point and begin working. He didn't have much in the way of people skills, but polite and honest had always worked for him.

The university representative nods politely.

"Alright, just this way. Your chartered helicopter flight to the archaeological site is waiting for you."

Without waiting for a response, he begins to walk down the corridor. As the Anhierarchi contingent of Professor Kynes, Doctor Tane, Officers Inyasta and Elyin follow as well, Ira Fost lights a cigarette, taking a deep drag.

"Hey, gimme a drag."

She looks around - it's Jan.

"I thought you didn't bloody smoke?"

Jan shrugs.

"I'm nervous enough to start."

Ira sighs, passing the lighted cigarette to Jan's unsteady fingers.

"Alright, whatever."

He bounds down the corridor, his goal in sight. Enthusiasm is higher now, because he is almost there.

Wait, where did she go? Is she still in the bathroom?

Indeed she was. He had no time to go back.

OOC: Leave her. :) She wasn't going anywhere anyway.

[ooc: Leaving her out o' this?]

As they file out onto the somewhat chilly helipad, they might notice that the Anhierarchi crew are momentarily taken aback. Standing at the edge of the helipad, overlooking a modest, rocky drop, is a large, imperious figure in a black robe. Towering over most at more than seven feet in height, the shaggy-haired figure turns around to reveal the amiable face of one Arthos Kelande, Overseer of the Synod for Internal Affairs and one of the most influential political figures in the Commonwealth.

He strides quickly before them, a trace of a smile hidden behind a respectable beard.

"Ah, hello. No need for formalities an' all that. Never really cared for that. I've just come to wish you all the best."

Businesslike and confident, he shakes each of their hands in turn - interspersed with brief comments, such as, "Nice to meet you, good luck." or possibly "Excellent essay in that journal, quite fascinating."

And as quickly as he'd shook their hands, he disappears - in all likelihood to stop his bodyguards from worrying overmuch.

The helicopter awaits, the final journey to the site itself.

[ooc: At last. I need to learn how to pace my RPs better.]

OOC: Yeah, I wasn't doing anything with her.
OOC2: So are we there? Is the choper ride uneventful?

The City Gates

1403 Local Time

Thunderclouds.

They gather expectantly on the horizon as the helicopters begin to land - one for the crew itself, the other two bearing additional equipment. Even in the relative calm, feathery flakes of snow corkscrew gently in the chilly air - and as the helicopters descend, brief vortices form here and there, sheets of snow whipped up by the downdraft of the blades.

One by one, the helicopter disgorges the crew, even as the assistants in the other two choppers hurriedly unpack several crates and cases. Muffled shouts struggling to be heard over the thunder of the blades, they work efficiently, quickly.

As the crew gathers in the snowy outcrop they'd notice the gate itself. A craggy edifice of rock and rusted iron, it stands over three metres in height, a pointed arch more than two thousand years old. On each side of the gate stands an impressive carving in cold, dead rock - a figure hooded and cloaked, bearing a broken blade of grey stone. Inexplicably, it radiates a faint sense of malice, almost undetectable.

The gate itself is shattered, the two great iron doors at strange angles in the passageway, the iron hinges completely disintergrated. Carvings and latticework are vaguely distinguishable on the surface of the portal, rusted beyond all hope of repair - even as they look, tiny flakes of rust drift off in the cold air. Beyond the gates themselves, the shadowed interior, a black, yawning mouth, seems both enticing and dangerous.

Suddenly, their attention would be diverted to something of a quarrel in the main helicopter, even as the last crates are unpacked. Huddled in the helicopter is Jan, addressing an irate Ira.

"I'm not bleedin' going in there, Ira! I'm sorry, I just can't!"

She snarls at him.

"Lost yer nerve, have ye?! What are ya, some sort of god-damned pussy?!"

Hopelessly, he looks at her. Then he spares the darkened passageway a brief glance, and shudders.

"I may have done assignments in fucking warzones, stood on an erupting volcano, but I'm not going in there. My family's sensitive to this sort of thing."

Exasperated, she punches the side of the helicopter. It resounds with a dull thunk.

"God-DAMN it Jan, I told you I don't want to hear that metaphysical mumbo jumb-"

Abruptly, the pilot cuts in - through a series of hand gestures, he successfully conveys the fact that he doesn't have enough fuel to hang around long enough to let them argue. As the chopper lifts off, they share a last, angry glance.

In the sudden silence the only noise is the howl of the wind, and the fading thrum of the helicopters. Professor Kynes rubs his gloved hands together.

"Well. Let's get started."

With that, he grabs a wooden case with surprising strength, carrying it down the corridor.

Riane looked at the pile of crates, then at the dark entranceway, and groaned. There was a lot of gear to be shifted from A to B, before the storm broke.

Still, it wouldn't move itself, and one of the advantages to being a Tsarainese archaeologist was a necessary lack of fear of small tunnels ... they being usually most of what survived from buildings flattened in the Event several decades ago.

She found one of the smaller crates (she was shorter, after all), and began dragging the thing into the tunnel, with a slight wince as she passed the statues.

OOC: Not very inspired. It's the accursed heat.

The two security officers stare balefully at the statues for a moment, apprehensive. For those that knew them, their being apprehensive about statues would come as something of a surprise, given their previous exploits. Then again, very few knew of the lore surrounding the city, passed down within the Order for two thousand years.

Mindful of their duties, though, they pick up a hefty supply crate each, hurriedly following Riane, hoping to overtake the zealous professor. As they pass through the corridor, even in the dim half-light it could be seen that the construction of the arch was somewhat strange - the ribs of the arches are not arranged perpendicular to the length of the tunnel. Rather, a single, arch runs the length of the tunnel, testament to the architectural genius of the Elastan civilization.

The greatest geniuses of their civilization, however, did not forsee the past two thousand years of environmental wear.

Their footsteps echo clearly in the darkness, pierced by blinding shafts of sodium-yellow light, Professor Kynes having the foresight to use a flashlight. The beam skitters across the wall, floor and curved ceiling, revealing faded frescoes and weathered masonry.

Eventually, the team arrives in the first hall, evinced by an obvious change in the acoustics - indicating an expansive room.

As the security officers work on cranking a modest generator, the Professor sits on a crate. Distant animal sounds can be heard, and the chilly air has a definite, musty animal component.

As the others brought in the rest of the crates, Riane set down her own, and wandered over to examine the murals on the walls.

The place smelled ... odd, to the Tsarainese archaeologist; like unwashed dig labourers. Animals were rare in the Dominion.

She peered closer at the walls, switching on her own torch to see them better...

OOC: Argh, short. What does she see, Anhierarch?

The murals in the corridor are in fairly decent condition, bone-chilling cold and dry mountain air winning over the combined forces of mold, lichen and other destructive forces. Still, large areas of the walls are significantly damaged - to a closer inspection, it appears to have been the site of a battle, with long, linear scars in the rock, assorted craters, pockmarks and signs of heat-damage.

What's visible of the mural seems stylistically close to the High Gothic period in western Europe, rather stiff and unrealistic figures adorning the cracked walls. Still, they betray considerable vitality, curiously animated. Scenes depicted include vast representations of scriptoria stretching perhaps fifteen metres along the corridor, scenes of war and massacre, of walls set ablaze and the heads of the fallen piled high in a pyre.

Most disturbing is what appears to be a stylized representation of sacrifice in a hall of many columns - the recipient of the sacrifice, thanks to the gentle decay of time, is now a patch of bare rock.

Her inspection is interrupted by a dull chugging sound, followed by some mumbled swearing. After a few moments, two floodlights flare to life, filling the hall with pure white light, every minute imperfection cast in stark relief. At one of the passageways, one of the bolder animal inhabitants slinks hurriedly away.

[ooc: Late, tired, school tomorrow. For now, think of the hall as being the same size of a modest cathederhal, with the same architectural style - sans stained glass, of course.]

The big floodlights attached to the generator came on, and Riane saw the battle damage on the walls.

Terrible destruction of historical friezes, she thought, Nobody ever cares for history while it's happening.

Returning to her own modest bags, she unzipped the larger one, which contained her gear, and rummaged through it for her digital camera; a highly minaturised Tsarainese model, capable of recording several hours of video footage, voice recordings, still shots, or all three.

Starting at the left-hand side of the entrance, she worked her way around the walls, commenting on the murals, and avoiding the dark passageways leading off it.

"Extensive damage, looks like it's due to combat," she spoke to the camera, "And modern weapons, too. Craters and pocks indicate some kind of high-speed concussion weapon, like modern firearms, while the heat scarring ... lasers, possibly, or plasma weaponry.

"As for what I can see of the murals themselves, it would seem to indicate a highly warlike culture, possibly with some kind of sacrifice-based religion. Whatever deity or leader being sacrificed to has been destroyed from the mural, though it doesn't look deliberate.

"There's also large depictions of some kind of archives, or a library of sorts; an odd juxtaposition, given that cultures civilised enough to mantain large collections of knowledge are generally past the stage of major rapine and pillaging.

"Hopefully, we'll find more clues deeper into this complex - it was mentioned that we're looking for some sort of written records."

Brushing past the two security officers ferrying more equipment out of the gathering storm outside, Professor Kynes joins Riane in studying the wall murals, intrigued with her hypothesis of plasma or laser damage to the walls.

"I suppose there may have been bandits and mercenaries using this place in the past.... especially during the chaotic Greater Aperin War in 1914 and the revolution shortly after. That might explain the bullet scars.... but plasma scarring?"

He taps another section of the mural with a cautious fingertip - it depicts nothing less than a full scale siege featuring the most feared weapon of the day - Elastan Flame. [ooc: Think greek fire, but add an order of magnitude]

"Very potent siege weapon - when you've got defending soldiers putting out fires instead of manning the walls, things fall a lot faster. Especially when water doesn't put the fire out. I did a paper on the subject during my undergraduate studies - quite fascinating, but no-one ever recovered records of how the stuff was made."

Gingerly, he chips a blackened, blistered chip of the the mural into a small plastic container, which he slips into a pouch. Amiably, he gives her a nod, as one professional to another.

"Our first few minutes in here and we may well have an important bit of data. Bodes well, doesn't it?"

OOC: Is Anhierarch and I the only people still posting here? Come on, people! Pooooost!

"Very well," Riane agreed. "I assumed plasma weaponry because it's about all I'm familiar with that could do this - but could it have been this "Elastan Flame"? For that matter, "Elastan Flame" sounds rather like napalm - and not the beverage*.

"I note the presence of animals here," Riane continued, "You can see the detritus - bones, odure, et cetera - on the floor. How are we planning to keep them from this chamber? I imagine that game is scarce up here - they might think us to be a tasty snack."

(Sorry connection problems)

Nose practically scrapping one of the murals surface Lee Strata considers,

"I think I must agree with Elastan Flame being the cause of burning not plasma, for the few breif mishaps that have occured (controlled conditions etc not in practical use in AFRP) the marks don't appear like this, plasma usually burns into to it much deeper and leaves a much smoother grain. This definatly seems more like flames.

As to the culture seems to represent an Aztec-like society, and as you said, sacrificing to a deity or emperor or perhaps a "god" emperor.

About the animals I think if we created a blockade with the empty crates filled with dirt, well now mud, should provide defense against most and we have our weapons for those that break throught."

Upon saying that he once again turns to the murals and back to deep thought.

Officer Elyin, characteristically quiet, offers his take on the fauna situation. His voice is low and smooth, almost the aural equivalent of velvet.

"They fear us more than we fear them, I expect. If not..."

Quite pointedly, he shifts the leather holster on his hip to allow somewhat easier access. Without pausing to observe their reaction, he hefts a heavy flashlight, beginning to make a preliminary circuit of the hall itself. At the same time, Officer Inyasta walks into the hall, sweatily bearing another crate as Professor Kynes and Dr. Tane puzzle out the lighting setup. A few flakes of snow tumble into the cavernous chamber, melting quickly as they pass close to one of the floodlights.

She mops her brow, listening to the conversation of the scientists. A passing memory graces her lips with a brief smile, and a quick anecdote.

"There's a rather nice drink called Elastan Flame, actually. Only in a few pubs - whiskey, a spot of lime, something rather sticky and a drop of concentrated spice essence, the sort of stuff you use to make a whole vat of stew good and hot."

She grins, darkly. Then, something catches her eye - rusty.

"Hey! Elyin. That hunk of rust over there, what is it?"

Nodding silently, he trains his flashlight on the indistinct form, closing quickly.

"It looks like armor... anyone want to take a look at this?"

OOC: Does officer Elyin have a British accent? Please say yes. :)

Picking up her digital camera again, Riane stood up, and walked over to the rusting hulk, switching on the camera.

She knelt down beside it, camera running...

OOC: argh, short. your turn, Anhierarch.

[ooc: Well, I suppose he does... ;)]

Doctor Tane trails Riane, extracting a glossy black tablet about the size of a notebook, its screen glowing faintly and a sleek stylus hanging from a corner with a discreetly stylish chain. She mutters quietly to herself, scribbling quickly and apparently recording footage as she circles the rusted hulks of armor, scattered across a few square feet by animals long dead.

With the powerful beam of light focussed on the ancient metal plates, the suit of armor resembles a rather startling fusion of west European gothic and classical Rome - despite the severe deterioration, and indeed complete disintergration of large portions of the armor, it is still possible to make out the elaborate ornamentation on the armor. Several dusty slivers of gold lie in tiny piles of rust around the remains of the breastplate, evidently the shinier bits of decoration. After the long contemplation of the armor, Tane points to the gold, scribbling.

"Might have been an officer of some sorts, mid-level possibly. Bones seem to be missing - no surprise there." She prods a smaller piece of rust with the toe of her boot, and it disintergrates, joining the dust motes.

Without warning, a swirling dust devil whips past the group gathered around the armor, blasting twenty centuries of dust into the air in three seconds and knocking them to their feet. As the dust begins to settle, Tane coughs, pausing uncertainly.

"Quite the microclimate. City must be bigger than we thought."

"Yes," Riane agreed, sneezing, "Which raises the question - how did the Elastans light this place? For a pre-electrical civilisation the fuel requirements must have been horrendous, and there's very little combustible material at this altitude."

Satisfied that the eggheads are close enough to where Inyasta's setting up the equipment, Elyin trots off to help her, leaving the powerful torch on the dusty flagstones.

Professor Kynes picks up the torch, thoughtfully shining it at the high walls, murmuring with disappointment at each streaked rust-stain on the scarred walls, indicating a long obliterated lighting fixture.

"To be frank, we're not entirely sure either - some speculate that they found a coal seam in this mountain, others suggest that they used their military force and unpleasant reputation to force tithes of lamp-oil, coal or other inflammables from the surrounding villages. Of course, there are those silly stories of magical lighting, but I think we can discount that theory."

He grins mischievously - rather out of character for one his age.

"Ah, I think we're due a bit of a sit down after flying all this way. Anyone care for cocoa?"

"Certainly," Riane agreed. "It's cold in here! They would have needed fuel for heating, too."

Jondar look around in amazement. But then a thought struck him, given his Seldane ancestry.

"Gentlemen? What if they didn't need light? What if their eyes were sensitive to very small amounts of light? After all, the stories of our Seldane ancestors were that we were Earth people, living underground. There are even some underground ruins that may have been our ancestors back in Imnsvale. What if the same sort of adaptation happened here?"

He looks up at the ceiling, in thought.

"Oh, and some cocoa would be glorious, thank you."

The professor fishes around in a pouch, retrieving a number of sachets familiar to anyone that has ever eaten instant food. With the help of a power-pack powered kettle, cocoa is soon produced - hot, thick and sweet with a rich, creamy feel and a slightly bitter edge to it. The way cocoa ought to be, in other words.

Mugs are handed out, almost full and featuring teaspoons.

Taking a cautious sip of her cocoa, the doctor grins wryly.

"Winter solstice festival sing-song, anyone?"

The professor cracks a grin, stirring with practiced ease, somehow not spilling the hot cocoa. As he watches Ira fiddle with her camera, his mind returns to the discussion at hand.

"A worthy hypothesis - we simply lack the observational data, which we hope to find here. However, even with low-light vision, they'd need fuel for heating, or copious amounts of food - perhaps they had a sturdier physiology for the frozen roof of the world."

He snaps out of his mellow mood at a metallic noise, faint and tinny - Ira, lighting a cigarette.

"Miss Ira! If you please. Do not smoke when the area is insufficiently catalogued."

She glances at him, rolling her eyes.

"Sure. Whatever."

"Thank you - would you like some cocoa?"

Gulping his cocoa, he smiled.

"Perhaps they weren't as cold in the same temperature. Or this area was warmer way back when."

Stifling a laugh, he added,

"Or they wore jackets."

"All of those being exellent theories, but as (Anhierarch's Person) said we have no proof. However, the jacket idea gives me a thought, insulation of some sort, some plant like material that is no gone an rotted with the years.

As to the light... extensive mirror system or silver maybe? Though at night it wouldn't help, but that *could* explain "magic" lightning."

Lee said this as he walked back to join the others.

[ooc: School workload getting heavier. Will post soon.]

"A mirror system? That'd be ingenious. And not out of the question. We could find evidence of this area being warmer at one time, correct?"

He began to get lost in the thought of a giant mirror system and how it might work.

The professor nods.

"Yes, quite ingenious - nightmarish to plan, perhaps, but given the obsessively anal-retentive calculations involved in their calendar system, I believe such a system would have been possible - a massive saving in fuel, too, which I think they would have very much appreciated. I suppose we can be quite certain that they maximized the use of insulating materials as well."

He sips his cocoa, rubbing his gloved hands in anticipation.

"Well, now we've got the theory, now we need the data to see if the theories are true."

They would spend the next few hours conducting a preliminary evaluation of the entrance chamber, with all its vast stone columns stretching into the dusty darkness, casting long shadows. A thick carpet of dust covers the entire flagstoned floor, sprinkled with a handful of lonely snowflakes, which melt under the electric glare of their torchlights.

Things they might find include old, corroded coins, irregularly shaped, mostly crumbling at the slightest touch. A single coin has evaded this fate, flung into the greasy stone bowl of a lampholder.

A significant find, at the far end of the great gallery, is a massive disc of gold-plated bronze, perhaps six feet in diameter. Significantly bent out of shape, it appears to have dropped from its metal bracket atop a carved column twenty feet high. Several, similar columns dot the room, their metal discs missing.

As they search, the more psychically empathic among them might hear faint voices, and the caress of etheral fingers - all things easily dismissed as tricks of the wind, of course.

Like nearly all Tsarainese, Riane had all the psionic powers of a rock.* Kneeling before the deformed gold-plated disk, she carefully brushed aeons of grime from it's surface, looking for engravings on it's surface.

*OOC: Not entirely accurate. Sche'dayach and Hyazinari do feel slight pain when exposed to psionic/magical forces, and sometimes bleed when they come into contact with magical artifacts.

"Although, I would still place money on that this area was warmer back then. Why bother to set all this up when you could move?"

He later sits on a rock and sketches the area with some charcoal in his journal, taking care to be detailed.

Behind them, Ira paces slowly, taking a barrage of photographs of both the damaged disc and the stone column. With her intense, professional focus on the task at hand, she completely fails to notice the faint vocalizations insinuating their way past her eardrums and straight into her brain.

The disc, on closer inspection, bears and complicated, twisted monogram rendered in tarnished sliver, black as obsidian. Highly stylized, it bears some resemblance to an eagle.

The professor trots over from inspecting an inscription on the keystone of one of the arches, muttering vague technical phrases of linguistics. He bends over to get a better look at the disc.

"Tradition, or religion. Perhaps the climate and effort involved in setting it all up appealed to their cultural mentality. Hmmm.... and, if I'm not wrong, this disc bears the E'menal. Possibly an emblem of the Elastans, the sort of thing you'd expect to see on a battle-standard."

Unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately - none of them knew of the legacy of the city, of the great battles fought by the plainsmen against their Elastan masters on their frozen throne, of the armies of slaves that were born, lived and died tunneling in the hoar-frosted caverns deep under the earth. Here, and here alone could the forgotten arts be practiced, and it was here that the hermit Axcalazon perfected the arts of his mind, and it was here that he looked from the summit of the mountain and dreamed fevered dreams of dominion.

Here it was, also, that Axcalazon V found the Elder.

For now, though, they remained unaware of these things.

Finishing the final stroke of his sketch, he put the plastic sheet over that page so the charcoal would not smear, put the charcoal away and tidily closed his notebook.

"So, what are the plans for dinner and sleeping arrangements?"