NationStates Jolt Archive

Motioning for Beneli to give Tara's gun to Moran, Enuti carefully arranged to scoop up the dead man's shoulders. Once the gun was handed off, Beneli carefully lifted Craven's feet, and they moved back into the passage way, moving towards the cave in silence, solemn expressions on their faces.

Back in the cave, Janr stared at Logan, picking up the tone, if not the words themselves. He declined the drink, with a wave of his hand, and went back to the cooking fire, growing hungrier by the minute. He hoped Logan would not get too drunk, but then, even if the boy was hung over the next day, they would not being going anywhere in the rain.

He looked up as he heard the noise and saw Enuti and Beneli emerging from the back of the cave, carrying a body. At first he thought it was the professor, and then, he realized that it must be, just not the professor they had been traveling with.

Sui still wasn't sure what, precisely, was going on - Logan had come in from the rain, and now the others were emerging from deeper in the cave system ... carrying a body?

Oh, no, he thought. Tenat has come ... He has done his work some time ago, by the look of it. The corpse was old, skin dry and sunken over the bones; the slope of this cave, and it's position in the depths of it, must have preserved it.

This was not a native man, either; his skin was as pale as that of the three foreigners, Logan, Tara and Moran.

"Professor Craven, I assume?"

Moran followed everybody out of the little grotto, taking up the rear. He absentmindly shoved Tara's gun under his belt. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he simply kept his mouth shut.

Instead, he pondered the words written on the wall of the cave. His mind drifted to an obscure form of magic known as The Bloodshadow. It was a technique that allowed the caster to see the events that occured right before the subject died. He figured that Craven had been injured and driven mad beyond the scope of the magic, but he wondered if hearing Craven's last words might have provided some clues. He sighed. Not only did he not know that lost art, but he didn't even know anybody who knew it. It was a blind alley and a red herring.

He then mulled over what to do with Prof. Craven's body. He tended to prefer cremation, but with the rain, that wasn't terribly likely. Burial wouldn't be much easier, either. He sighed softly and decided to leave the choice to Tara. Whichever she was more comfortable with would be what they'd do. Somehow.

"Well, all the more for me then, my little native friend." Logan said, not taking offense to Janr's refusal to partake of the narcohol. He brought the slim flask to his lips, tipping back his head and taking a long swallow. A calm glow infused him, and the edges of his vision softened. He sat down hard, crossing his legs in front of the fire, enthralled by the sparks and flames that danced at the fire's edge. He barely noticed the group coming out of the deep recesses of the cave, preferring to simply light one of his small cheroots and puff contentedly, the narcohol pushing all his fear and pain into a far corner of his heart.

Tara watched silently on as Enuti and Beneli carried the body of her father out from the little nook, a shudder of grief spreading over her as she saw the condition he was in. It was obvious from the position he had on the ground that he had been there some time, but now as his features caught the light in carrying ways, the look of terror that was etched forever on his face would slowly remove the image of her father, the happy man that had made her laugh as she grew up, replacing it with something that would be more at home in a horror movie.

Following his body as they made their way back into the main body of the cave where the others were waiting, she felt a flood of sorrow spreading over her. All these people had joined with her on this quest to follow a man they did not even know, and now they had found him, yet this was not the end, this was only the beginning.

Having seen the fright on his face, made even clearer in the lighter part of the cave, Tara could not understand what could have done this to him. But it was not just the fear. She had seen the words on the wall, though most had not registered in her mind, but the few that she had seen on top of the horrid realisation that he had used his own blood to paint his last words to the world.

She turned to Moran, confused and saddened, and suddenly frightened. “What could have done to him? What do you think…?” She swallowed heavily, fighting down the rising bile. “What do you think happened to him?” A steady flow of tears began to run down her cheeks.

This was not a position Moran wanted to be in, all things considered. Of course he wanted to help Tara, but these sorts of emotionally charged situations were not the kind of thing he was good with. The fact that he and Tara had discovered the professor's body right after an even more awkward situation only made things worse.

He looked at Tara, she needed him to offer answers. Answers that he didn't really have, and even if he did, she wouldn't like them. He shook his head sadly, "I don't know, Tara, I really don't." He sighed, "Remember our first outing together? Remember that... thing? It could have been something like that. It could have been those panther-things." He knew it wasn't the panthers. It had to be something the shouldn't be; Prof. Craven was built of similar stuff as Moran: they both chased the impossible, the things that couldn't and shouldn't exist, the things that go bump in the night and scare little kids (and grown men) shitless. It looked like Craven had found something that was up to the challange.

He looked into her eyes and put a hand on her shoulder, "I don't know what it was, Tara, but we'll find it."

Enuti nodded at Beneli as they came out of the tunnel, and the swung to the left, carefully setting Craven's body down, out of the way. A couple of quick instructions in their native tongue, and Beneli went over to where the gear was piled.

Enuti, meanwhile, turned and nodded to Sui. "Yes, Tara's father." His gaze moved across Logan, and he was stunned by the sudden change in the boy, the complete vacancy of his expression. Questioning eyes turned to Janr, who shrugged with an 'I'll explain later' shrug. Acceptance of this was quickly communicated, silently, between the two friends, an expression vanishing as Enuti heard Professor Moran's last words.

In the back of the gave, Beneli very gingerly draped a tarp over the dead man's body, hiding it from view until they decided what to do with it. Enuti replayed Moran's earlier words, though, the ideas behind them laughing at him. The concept of a thing bothered him greatly, but Enuti had seen many wounds in his time on the Earth. Only a man could inflict such wounds, no animal could. Animals were not sadistic, but people could be.

Though, as he closed his eyes, recalling the horror of the little cave, it seemed very likely that Craven's wounds had not been caused by another man, either. More would have to be investigated, but in the morning. It had been a very long day for all concerned.

Approaching the fire, he spoke in a clearly penetrating voice, "Perhaps we should eat and sleep, renewing ourselves, before we make any decisions."

Tara looked at Moran, her eyes haunted by the memory of their last trip. She could still see the nightmarish creatures – she refused to think of them as people – and knew that there was some big darkness that controlled them. She had witnessed the aftermath of what these things could to, with the discovery of the remains of their then guide. Whether it was a good thing or bad, at least her father had not experienced that kind of end, even though she did not wish to think about what had happened to him, at least not at this moment.

“I just…I just hate to think about what he went through…” She swallowed hard, feeling the tears beginning to well in her eyes. “Excuse me, Professor.” Lowering her face she took herself off to one side of the cave, watching as Enuti and Beneli laid her father against a far wall, covering him, not that she could not see the vision of him in her mind’s eye.

Settling herself away from the others, she let the tears fall. Her mind was full of a mix of thoughts and feelings, as the last couple of hours mingled and tormented her. She wanted desperately for everything to go back to how it was before. Deep down, she knew that she had ruined everything, first with drugging Moran into a moment of passion and then flinging herself at the embarrassed man with her grief and sorrow.

You are a fool, Tara. Look what you’ve done. You are not good enough to have taken on this expedition. She felt the tears roll down her cheeks. Seducing the professor; breaking down like a child. You’ll be the laughing stock of Chiba City University. She closed her eyes, trying to rid herself of her thoughts.

Moran made no move to stop Tara. She needed some time to herself; after all, it had been a very eventful few hours. Finding her father's corpse so soon after the fruit wore off couldn't have been easy for her. And Moran had no idea what after-effects the fruit might have. He shook his head a little, it was a mess all right.

Right now, he would try and deal with what he could manage. He glanced at the others, frowning a little as he saw Logan sitting there drunk. Great, something else to worry about. He nodded to Enuti, "Excellent suggestion." He glanced at the still pouring rain before continuing, his voice taking on the authoritarian tone he occationally used in class, "Okay, hunting or gathering's out, so we'll make do with the dry rations we've got with us." He smiled a little, "Unless somebody brought a can of soup." He looked at Enuti again, "We should have watch shifts as well. I don't want us attacked in our sleep by one of those panther-things. Also, we don't know if there's some kind of animal even deeper in the cave."

He moved over to his discarded backpack, digging though his rations before pulling out two portions. He walked over to Tara and set one of the rations next to her, speaking just loud enough for her to hear, "If you're hungry and still want to be alone, here." He put his hand on her shoulder, letting it rest there for a minute before having his earlier assuredness dissolve.

He wandered back to the fire to eat his own rations.

Tara did not see Moran’s approach, and did not know he had moved to where she was sitting until he placed the food beside her. She opened her eyes and listened to his words, feeling comforted by his hand on her shoulder. A small smile slipped onto her lips, but her silent tears robbed her of the strength or ability to speak out loud, afraid that another bout of hysterics would come. Instead a slight nod of the head was all she could give before he walked away from her.

As he returned to the fireside, Tara lifted her head and looked around the group. She had been the cause of bringing them all together, or more accurately her quest to find her father and finish his work had. Now that she had seen what had happened to him, she wondered whether she had made the right decision. Would they all end the same way as Professor Craven?

Looking out of the cave entrance, she gazed at the rain. The film of water stopping their journey, whether it was onwards or back, and as much as she feared what they would find if they went on, she could not return home without bringing back some final glory for her father. His body may not return with her, but the conclusion to his work would. If she did nothing else this trip, she would set Professor Craven’s memory in stone with honours.

Her eyes flicked back to where Moran was sitting, focusing on him. Despite what had happened between them, he had shown her that he was not going to turn his back on her, which filled her with some reassurance. At that moment, she decided that she would have to speak with him, apologise for what she had done, but not yet, not until she could look at him without feeling guilty.

Picking up her food, she stood and moved over to the fire. Sitting down, she shivered as the heat seeped into her skin. Silently, but once more feeling part of the group, she began to eat.

The buzz had just settled in pleasantly when the natives appeared, carrying a corpse. Logan watched in a detached state of mind, unsure if he was halucinating or not, unperturbed by either option. The Professor and Tara soon followed from the back of the cave, and the young man remarked that they both looked very sad. He considered this, and for a brief moment, he felt sad too. He looked down at the half-empty flask in his hand and felt happy again. He took a long swig, capped it and returned the slim container to his inner vest pocket. It seemed to take an eternity for him withdraw and light a cigar, and Logan lost himself in the streams of thick smoke snaking upward, into the shadows.

Moran smiled silently as Tara came over to the fire, figuring she still needed some time alone, even if she wanted to be surrounded by people who cared for her. He kept his gaze from Logan; the young man was becoming something of a severe irritant. Moran shaked his head slightly, figuring he could live with an irritant, provided Logan didn't become a liability. Moran prefered to not think about what would have to be done if Logan did become a liability.

Finishing his rations, he glanced over at Tara, speaking softly, "We're going to run watches in shifts tonight. You can just sleep on through the night. I think you could use the sleep." He glanced at Logan again and rolled his eyes, shifting his gaze over to Enuti, "Well, he's too trashed. How do you want to run this?"

Shaking his head to clear the wispy cobwebs that had formed, Logan took a long drag from his cigar, then flicked it into the fire. He rose to his feet, somewhat unsteadily, and walked slowly over to where Tara was seated. He stood over her, looking down while his mind tried to determine what to do. His body decided for him, and he sat down heavily beside her. He stared at her, her reddened eyes betraying the tears that had fallen earlier. Logan wasn't sure what had happened, but even through the haze in his mind, he was able to discern that it had something to do with the corpse. Then it all came crashing together: her father?!

Without thinking, he reached out his hand, taking her smaller one in his. He said nothing, hoping that his simple touch would help to bring her some minor comfort. He thought about having another little nip of narcohol, and decided against it. For once, someone else's pain was more important than his.

Tara took a couple of mouthfuls of food, glad to be back among people. As sad and miserable as she felt, she did not want to spend the time on her own, allowing herself more time to relive the horror of finding her father or of dwelling on her grief. She looked at the Professor as he spoke, and smiled kindly, before opening her mouth to speak.

But she never got to the point of getting the words out, as Moran turned to Enuti and she found Logan sitting beside her, holding her hand. She gave the younger man another smile, noticing very briefly the difference in him, before she got up from her place.

“You have all been very kind.” She looked at each of them in turn as she spoke. “But I don’t want special treatment. I don’t want to be treated any differently from anyone else.” She looked over at the covered form of her father. “I lost my father, and that saddens me greatly. I wouldn’t be human if it didn’t.”

Her eyes continued to touch all of them, until they lingered on the Professor. “I want to do my share. I brought us all out here, and you very kindly came along, not once questioning the wisdom of my decision. I want to show him that I can follow in his footsteps. That I am worthy to be called his daughter.” I want you to be proud of me. Suddenly feeling a lump rising in her throat, she stopped speaking for a moment as she regained her composure. “Please put me on the watch rota.”

With another glance between the others, she lowered her head, taking in a deep breath to calm herself.

Enuti shrugged. "We need do set watch, for sure." He looked at Tara consideringly. "You'll take first watch, Miss Craven. I'll take it with you. Professor, perhaps you and Beneli can take the next watch, and Janr can take the last watch with Uncle, since Logan is obviously too trashed to stand a watch." The disgust in his voice was obvious, his eyes nearly mocking the young man as he took another bite of his food, the other natives nodding in confirmation of the plan.

At the mention of his name, said with obvious disdain and no masking of the insult intended, Logan bristled to awareness. With one angry eye on Enuti, the young man reached into his pocket and pulled out a "straight" capsule, popping it into his mouth and crunching down on it hard. A few moments later, the toxins and inebriants had been flushed from his system, and his mind became clear, sharp and focussed. Standing slowly, one hand on the butt of his pistol, Logan stood straight and true, towering over the smaller native. His voice was a growl.

"I'm fine. I'll do my part. I have since the beginning, and will to the end." Logan had had enough of the guides constant insults and unmasked disdain, and like any young man with a modicum of pride, decided it was time to put a stop to it, once and for all. He took a long step, bringing him to stand directly in front of Enuti. He looked down at him, dangerous intent in his glare. His words came out quickly, and quietly enough so that only Enuti could hear. Logan didn't notice that Moran was close enough to pick up the conversation.

"I'm not sure what your problem with me is, little man, but if you want to discuss it, it would be my pleasure to do so, man to man...outside."

At this moment, Logan had no fear or hesitation. All the frustration, anger and loss that had been building in him had come to a head, and yearned for release. The young man was more than capable of dealing out massive amounts of violence, his early life being spent under the tutelage of Brick, a career soldier and mercenary. The young man had learned how to be a crack shot, and was familiar with several different martial arts and fighting styles. Now he wanted nothing more than to use his knowledge to pound some respect into Enuti. The air around them grew thick with menace.

Enuti looked up at Logan, any and all amusement that had been on his face draining from it, his black eyes becoming as cold as the obsidian they so resembled. With careful, controlled movements, he stood, only a few centimeters shorter than the younger man now, and looked him in the eye. Over Logan's shoulder, he spotted Beneli silently getting to his feet, using every jungle trick he knew to move in absolute silence as he leveled his crossbow, always near at hand, at the center of the young man's back.

When the two younger, local natives spotted Beneli with his crossbow, they had also moved to interfere, on behalf of Logan, but a dark look from Janr and their Uncle kept them from moving or even speaking, though their mouths hung open silently.

Making eye contact, Enuti forced himself not to sneer, and spoke in a cold voice, made that much colder by his flat, accentless English. "You wish to know what my problem with you is, reknawgit? Since I've met you, you've not ceased to show off, to act like a small child, desperate for attention, and when you don't get your way, continue to act like a petulant little boy. Wandering off on your own, getting drunk and high, not helping with the work, you endanger yourself and the group repeatedly for no better reason I can determine than to fulfill your overlong period of teenage angst."

He smiled, but much like a snake, cold and harsh. "Now, you prove my point. When I make a simple comment about your mental and physical condition, you take offense at the truth, and then threaten me like a playground bully." Enuti slowly, diliberately, turned his back on Logan and then walked away two steps, turning back halfway so his right side faced away from the younger man. "I will not fight you, Logan, if for no other reason than there had been enough death today. But also, it is what you want, and even as long as we've been on this journey, you don't seem used to not getting your own way yet. So grow up, pour out your spirits and dispose of your drugs, and stop your dick waving, cause I doubt Tara is in the mood to be impressed by your nonsense."

Logan just stared. With undisguised venom, he hissed at Enuti's retreating back.

"I knew you were a murderer, but never thought you were a coward, too."

The young man turned his own back, returning the insult, and noticing for the first time that Beneli had the crossbow trained on him. He was surprised briefly, then just shook his head slowly.

"Yup...a coward. Can't even fight his own battles..."

Logan winked at his two young native friends, letting them know that he had noticed their effort, and appreciated it. If he lived through this, those two would have a nice reward coming to them, a gift large enough to change their lives. Looking over to Moran, he spoke briefly, if not contritely.

"My apologies, prof...don't worry, I'll let it go, and I promise not to let him get to me anymore. I'll be near the mouth of the cave, if you need me."

Logan would also keep watch, though he hadn't been assigned. The "straight" pill he had taken was also a powerful stimulant, and he knew sleep would not come to him this night. He grabbed his bedroll, and walked to the opening, settling himself down for the long, damp night, his hand still laying loosely across the handle of his pistol.

Enuti spun around, his face darker than normal at Logan's words, a snarl sliding onto his face and dying as quickly as he could suppress it. A murderer? What the hell is he talking about? Does he think I killed Craven?

He had indeed killed before, but that had been long before, when he was young. The tribes of the river rarely fought, rarely raided, but such actions were not unknown, especially in hard times. It had been one such event, after a raid. The reprisal. Enuti could remember it as yesterday, the young man his own age, the crossbow bolt slashing through his eye, tearing his brains from his skull. And then the other one, that he had slaughtered on the ground, injured, unable to escape. He had offered to help him, and had been spat upon. He could still hear the words. "I would rather die than be helped by you." And so he had obliged him.

But neither had been murder. It had been war. And the coward remark was silly. It took more courage for him to turn his back on Logan than nearly anything he had ever done in his life. He would ask about this murder accusation later, since Logan apparently intended to stay up.

But the blatent ignorance of his orders could not be accepted for now. "Logan." His voice snapped with command, with demand as he followed the young man. "I believe I asked you to do something." His hand rested lightly on his pistol on his hip as Beneli kept turning his body to cover Logan. "The drugs, and the drink. Now."

A coldness had entered him, slowly seeping through his bones, numbing his emotions. He heard Enuti's words as if from a distance, and was unaffected by them. It no longer seemed to matter...nothing really mattered, in the end. Logan reached into his vest and withdrew the half-empty flask, opening it and emptying it into the hard-packed floor of the cave. He re-pocketed the flask.

"A gift from a great man...I'll keep it, if you have no objections."

He reached into his belt-pouch, and pulled out a small case filled with pills. This he tossed to Enuti, who caught it with ease.

"Those are stimulants and pain-killers...you may want to keep them for medical emergencies."

Logan took a final item from his pocket, looked at it for a long moment, then tossed it at the feet of Enuti.

"You might as well take this, too. A trophy of sorts, I guess."

Lying at Enuti's feet was the burnt and battered dogtags of Logan's guardian, Brick.

Logan turned and continued to the mouth of the cave, desperately needing to be away from the proximity of the strangers around him. He settled himself against a wall, pulling his thin blanket around him, his eyes vacant and staring into the darkness outside the cave. "Why the hell am I here?" was a question that began to form in his mind. It was then he realized it didn't really matter...he WAS here, and he had to deal with it. Fish or cut bait, Brick used to say, and the young man began considering his options.

Tara stood in silence as the tension that always seemed to be lingering between Logan and Enuti suddenly erupted. She was not paying enough attention to catch everything that was being said; at first she just heard their voices, until the arguments grew. She looked between the two, her eyes following as each one spoke. She caught various words, the odd phase, from the bits she did hear it was not hard to tell that they were not holding any punches.

As the row reached a crescendo, Tara watched as Logon gave or threw his belongings, each one to Enuti, until the chink of metal hit the floor, drawing her attention to the object. From where she was standing, she could not make out exactly what he had thrown, but whatever it was, it was important to him. She continued to stare in silence as her gaze followed Logan to the cave entrance, before turning to Enuti as if she expected the answers to suddenly be staring her in the face.

Moran sighed a little as he watched the argument. This certainly wasn't going to help matters. Then again, as long as they weren't killing each other, he figured he should just let them blow off some steam. With any luck, things would be calmer once pent up aggression was aired. He shrugged, and idly drew some random symbols in the dirt of the cave, waiting for the row to end so he could sleep.

Enuti shook his head in the negative, confirming no objections, and easily caught and pocketed the drugs. With his left hand, for his right was staying next to his pistol.

Bending slowly, keeping his eyes on the younger man, he picked up the dogtags from the dirt and ran them through his fingers. Standing even more slowly, he backed away from the younger man, putting a couple of steps between them before turning his back. A slight smile creased his lips at the sight of Beneli still holding the crossbow on Logan, and a twitch of his fingers gestured for it to be lowered.

Beneli hesitated, and compromised on lowering it as Enuti sat down, once more facing Logan, his face pensive.

Something did not add up. He ran the facts through his head. Burned and warped metal, Logan's hostility toward him, Beneli and Janr, but not the three locals. The dogtags. Fire. He went back, remembering Logan in his village. Bending over the firepit. The horror in his eyes. The hatred. The accusations of being a murdered.

They hadn't been demons. They had been humans. People Logan knew. Somehow. But why had they not said anything? Why had they let themselves be slaughtered? Why had Logan not said anything?

He did not know. He scratched at the metal, flaking some of the carbon off. Only a small bit, but enough. He sat silently until everyone had gone to bed, except Tara, Logan, and himself, and watched the younger man through the flames, the amber light dancing deep in his black eyes.

Alone near the front of the cave with only the studied glare of Enuti to keep him company, Logan stared out into the blackness of the jungle night, trying to remain alert while his thoughts ran rampant in his mind. He had no idea what his next steps were...with the discovery of Professor Cravens corpse, the main reason for this trip was basically over. Tara was in shock, though she seemed to be handling things as well as she could, and for now she was insisting on finishing her fathers mission. That could all change with the coming of the morning sun. For now, Logan would need to wait, watch and listen, then make a decision. He reached for his flask, stopping when he remembered that he had emptied it onto the floor of the cave, at Enuti's feet.

Enuti. An enigmatic mystery man, a civilised savage that knew more than he revealed. Since they had met, he had been a constant source of irritation to Logan with his snide remarks and barely-disguised insults. Logan had surprised himself by letting most of them slide off his broad shoulders, ignored. Now he had reached his limit, and felt that soon there would be a reckoning between the two. The young man vowed to himself to first help Tara any way that she needed, so she could finish what she had started, and return home. Once she was out of the picture, Enuti and Logan would have their day.

He continued to stare into the darkness, his eyes and ears alert to the dangers of the jungle.

Moran never really entered a deep sleep. Even when he was a child, his sleep was remarkably light. His mother had taken him to a sleep lab to see if everything was okay, and managed to surprise the technitions; it appeared that while he was in Stage 1 sleep, he was undergoing REM. He never seemed to enter the deeper stages of sleep. Since he was healthy, nobody ever thought much about it, his parents were just careful to be quiet when he was asleep.

Today, just like every other day, when he slept, it was a shallow sleep. But still he dreamed.

---

The landscape was disturbing for several reasons, not the least of which was the fact that Moran couldn't change it. He'd been lucid dreaming for ages, partially because it helped him stay asleep when outside noises might rouse him, but try as he might, he couldn't alter a single thing. The second thing that caused him no small amount of concern was where he was.

He knew of N'Kai, of course. One didn't worship St. Toad without being at least aware of that blighted cavern. Potentially it was a very good sign, perhaps the Saint was pleased with him, or was willing to grant some bit of insight on Prof. Craven's work so that he could help Tara with her quest. Or, perhaps he had angered the Saint and had been summoned here to have his soul forcably removed.

This was the problem with worshipping such entities. Not only did you never know their true desires, it was impossible to even start to comprehend their motivation. Reality bent and twisted as he walked down the darkened cave.

---

He awoke with a start, looking around frantically; having fallen asleep in a cave added to his anxiety, but he quickly got his bearings, and calmed down signifigantly. Sleep was a lost cause at this point, so he simply gazed out the mouth of the cave, watching the rain fall.

Tara sat by the fire, staring at the flames, watching demons dance in the orange glow. For a moment, her mind was not in the cave, but many years away, back when she was younger. She recalled a conversation she had had with her father, when she had informed him of her wish to follow in his path, and discover the dark secrets of the world. She could still see the look of fear in his eyes, as he thought about her stepping into his footsteps.

“There are things out there, Tara, that no one is meant to see. Sometimes, I find myself on a path that can lead only to darkness. Every time I leave you and your mother, I fear that I shall not return.” He looked sad, frightened and concerned. “I cannot decide your future for you, but be wary of the path you choose to travel; for once you start down it, as you may not be given the opportunity to get off of it.”

She sighed heavily, as she came out of her reverie, and looked about her. Not that she could see much in the darkness. The firelight cast strange shadows upon the walls. A brief look in the direction of her father’s body, and for a moment she could see movement, a trick of the eye and the flickering flame given the body life.

She blinked away the image, and turned her attention to where Enuti and Logan were sitting; each seemed to be lost in their own world. Secret thoughts and feelings that they might never share.

Listening to the sounds of the night, Tara felt all alone, as if the world around them had cut them off. Outside, other than the patter of falling rain, the jungle seemed quiet. All the evil that lurked appeared to be sleeping. Inside the cave, only the crackling of the fire and the rustling of material worn by her companions broke the silence.

She looked at the two men before her. “I hope the night remains this peaceful.” She smiled nervously, wondering what truly lived in the shadows around them. “It’s been a long day, and the sooner the sun rises the better I will feel.” She looked at Enuti. “This rain, is it likely to last for long?”

Enuti averted his gaze at the sound of Tara's voice, turning away from Logan and towards the young woman. "The rain?" He shrugged. "Could last for days, or could end while we're asleep. Never can tell with this kind of sudden storm."

He smiled grimly. "Yes, it has been a long day, especially so for some of us." He got up and quietly moved closer to her, so he could talk more quietly. "I'm sorry about your father, Miss Craven. I know what it is like to lose a parent. Both of mine are gone, and have been for a number of years." He smiled sadly, his eyes adopting a far away look, a look of remembered memories, pleasant ones by the light in the back of his eyes.

"The immediate pain will decrease soon, Miss Craven, though the loss will always hurt. But you will remember the good times, I promise." He smiled, then his expression brightened slightly as he held out his hand in friendship. "I also wanted to apologize for Beneli. He had no idea you would share the fruit with Moran." He glanced in the direction of the sleeping professor, then looked back. "He thought it would be funny." Enuti's tone displayed his opinion of Beneli's humor, which was quite low.

Tara smiled at Enuti as he spoke, the sadness in her eyes matching his, although with maybe a little more intensity due to the freshness of the pain. She lowered her eyes to her lap, fearing that tears might follow at his words of kindness. “Thank you.” As she spoke she raised her gaze back to his, feeling the need for tears seeping away.

She remained silent for a moment, thoughts of her father once more filling her head. “I wasn’t expecting to find him, if I’m honest with myself. All this…” She waved her arm around her, as if encompassing the whole trip. “…Was to finish what he started.” She smiled, embarrassed at her foolishness. “I feel I owe him that much. I can’t give him much else.”

Once more she moved her eyes from his face, glancing briefly over at Logan, before returning her attention to the native, her cheeks growing redder as he mentioned the incident with the fruit. She would never be able to explain how grateful she was for the darkness. “Yes…well…I guess I’ll just put that down to naivety and be more careful who I seek advice from.” She lowered her eyes to her lap, where her hands lay, fiddling agitatedly. “Let’s just…carry on as if nothing happened.”

She raised her eyes to his, catching them in the glow of the fire. If it had not been for the fact she knew that Moran had only gone along with her seduction of him as he had no other choice, she would not have felt so foolish. Now she had to work on rebuilding the relationship she had with the professor before Beneli had played such an evil trick on her.

That they had moved together did not go unnoticed by the young man, but it only led him to introspection, and surprisingly, anger directed at himself. From the beginning, Logan had blown any chance he might have had with Tara. He had come on much too strong, too fast and too pushy. Their relationship had never really recovered, and he hadn't done alot to improve things since then, despite any efforts he made.

Now he watched her and Enuti, their heads close together, the sounds of their muted whispers coming to him. They spoke too low for him to make out the words, but the act seemed more intimate than any moment he had ever shared with her. Logan averted his gaze, not wanting to feed the green-eyed beast that was snuffling at his door.

Logan noticed the two younger natives sitting towards a part of the cave that was cloaked in shadows. They seemed to also be watching the couple, and taking great pains to hide their amusement. They were sharing a good joke, and it was all they could do to not burst out laughing. Luckily for them, Enuti and Tara were both facing the other direction.

Logan smiled when one of the men caught his eye, and smiled wider when the native gave him the "thumbs up" sign, something he had learned earlier today when scouting out the trail with Logan. He had spent most of his time with them, enjoying the companionship of Abe and Bob. These were the names that Logan had given the natives, simply because they were easier to remember than their real ones. It seemed so long ago.

Logan waved Abe and Bob over, inviting them to come and join him by the mouth of the cave. He suddenly had a need for company, and wanted nothing more than to be able to smile, laugh and forget, just for a moment or two.

Enuti glanced up at the sounds of movement, and watched the two young natives head over to Logan. He refrained from comment, but thought it would be best if all three of the younger men went to sleep. He was only loosely in charge though. The thought ran through his head wondering if Logan actually thought he had earned himself friends or if he realized it was primarily his exotic pictures of naked white women that attracted the young men. But then, Logan had probably had friends like that all his life, only attracted by what Logan had, his money, rather than by his personality. Users. For a split second, Enuti almost felt sorry for the young man.

Shaking his head only slightly, he returned his attention to Tara. "Well, we'll have to do our best to finish your father's work, here, but we have to attend to some things first." He smiled grimly. "We need to take care of you and Moran, first. As much of the ngongsi-iksi as the two of you consumed, I want you to be careful. It's an extremely powerful drug, in a couple of ways, lowering inhibitions and increasing physical strength and stamina, things like that. Like alcohol, though, it can dry you out quickly. You and the professor need to make sure you drink lots of water tomorrow. I'll remind him as well, and keep an eye on both of you." He smiled gently. "Don't want you getting dehydrated in the jungle." The seriousness returned to his expression, and in his eyes, though they held a faint echo of their constant glimmer than never seemed to fade.

"Also, Miss Craven, we need to decide what to do with your father, whether you want to bury him or cremate him." He glanced at the cave entrance, where the rain still pounded down, as thunder rolled again. "We're not going to move on until the rain stops, but if it stops by midmorning, there should be enough wood dry by evening. The choice is yours, though. We can do either one."

Listening as Enuti spoke, Tara looked more than a little concerned. She had supposed that once the effects had worn off she would be able to forget about what had happened. “Who would have thought that one piece of fruit could be so much trouble?” She smiled faintly, wishing not for the first time that she could change history. “The really annoying thing is, it was one of the best tasting fruit I have ever tried.” She laughed suddenly. “Makes you wonder if it was an apple that caused the trouble in Eden.”

Shaking her head, she let her gaze move from her companion to where the body of her father lay. “Mother always wanted him buried, but then I think she imagined him dying at home not in the middle of some jungle.” She flicked her gaze back to Enuti. “I think I would prefer for him to be cremated. The thought of him lying under the ground thousands of miles away, doesn’t really make me feel comfortable.” She blinked slowly, as she fought back the tears that threatened to come again. “I appreciate all that you are doing for me. Not just with my father, but the whole expedition.”

Seeing no obvious objection from the elders, the two young natives joined Logan by the mouth of the cave. Abe was still smirking, and Logan poked him in the belly, making him laugh out loud. The three hunkered down, not wanting to disturb the others. Logan passed out the small cigars he favored, and after lighting everyone up, he tried to get the natives to explain the joke.

Abe quickly understood, and gestured towards Tara. He then mimed the act of pulling something from a tree, and eating it. Abe then giggled, and moved his hips suggestively, in a movement that was known in any language. Logan smiled, not truly understanding why the two natives were giggling yet again. They kept repeating "ngongsi-iksi", which he filed away mentally. He'd ask the professor about it in the morning.

Eventually, Logan pulled out some dice, and began teaching Abe and Bob the wonders of craps. They had a great time, the three sharing the innocent familiarity of youth.

Questions of how the two natives scouting ahead could possibly know what was going on at the back of the party aside...

Moran heard the final snippets of Tara's conversation with Enuti, but feigned sleep a little while longer. He was still conflicted about how he felt about what had happened, or how he felt towards her. He sighed inwardly, wondering when his life had turned into a soap opera. He opened his eyes slightly, glancing towards the mouth of the cave, also wondering just how many cigars Logan was carrying. Perhaps that's all that's in his backpack...

He shifted his focus back to Tara and Enuti, opening his eyes fully but not announcing himself. They'd notice soon enough, he figured. He looked over Tara, smiling inwardly despite himself.

Questions of how the two natives scouting ahead could possibly know what was going on at the back of the party aside...

Moran heard the final snippets of Tara's conversation with Enuti, but feigned sleep a little while longer. He was still conflicted about how he felt about what had happened, or how he felt towards her. He sighed inwardly, wondering when his life had turned into a soap opera. He opened his eyes slightly, glancing towards the mouth of the cave, also wondering just how many cigars Logan was carrying. Perhaps that's all that's in his backpack...

He shifted his focus back to Tara and Enuti, opening his eyes fully but not announcing himself. They'd notice soon enough, he figured. He looked over Tara, smiling inwardly despite himself.

<<OOC: Knowing about Passion Fruit - call this "creative license": I'm assuming that they overheard or talked about this with the other natives.

Cigars: Small, thin cheroots, the size of a joint. His case holds 30, he has another 60 or so in his backpack. I estimate he has smoked about 20 on the trip so far.>>

OOC: I suppose that making shit up that pretty much ignores the fact that all the local natives were outside of the cave when the discussion about the fruit was taking place because you want your character to know something so he can be all knowledge about it is acceptable. I guess. Have to ask Hack, though. He's in charge.

Just to nitpick, though, 'Abe' and 'Bob' would call it ngangasi-iksi, not ngongsi-iksi.

Enuti debated giving Tara a hug, but realized, as he watched the three boys light up at the mouth of the cave, that with the tension already at a boiling point between him and Logan, adding to it would be foolish. Pulling out a relatively clean hankerchief, he offered it to her with a gentle instruction. "Cry. It's part of the healing process, Miss Craven, you need to do it." He smiled. "I'd offer you my shoulder to cry on, but considering how taken with you Logan seems to be and how, well, not taken with me, that's probably not a good idea." Awkwardly, he patted her shoulder, not used to being in emotional situations of this type with women.

Men and women grieved seperately in his village, and it had been a long time since he had had to deal with this kind of loss in any way. "Perhaps the Professor would be a better choice. I think you need to talk to him anyways, about some other things. I do believe he's awake." All this was said without glancing in Moran's direction, but now, he cast his wide grin back over his shoulder towards the prone older man. "Remember, Miss Craven, ngongsi-iksi can't make anyone do something that they don't want to do, at some level, at least. If you don't want to talk to anyone, I would suggest sleep. I know you want to help, but you'll help best by taking care of yourself right now." He patted her shoulder again, and moved off into the firelight to tend to the flames, watching their glowing depths.

As time passed later and later, he realized the end of his watch was approaching, and he stood, slowly working his legs to relieve some cramps. Moving to the mouth of the cave, he smiled as friendly as he could to all three younger men. "Time for bed, boys," he murmured in the native tongue, and the two boys responded to him, saying goodnight to Logan, in their own tongue, then moving off towards their sleeping areas. "They say goodnight, Logan," Enuti translated into English. "I realized you're hyped up, but I would suggest trying to get some sleep of your own." Perhaps you'll be in a better mood tomorrow. Smiling again, Enuti, after waiting a moment to hear anything Logan had to say, moved back into the cave to wake Beneli and remind the Professor to keep an eye out, since it had been decided hours earlier that they would take second watch.

Then he curled up, and trusting Beneli, if not everyone else, went to sleep.

As the others scurried off to their sleeping area, Logan looked up at Enuti. The native's voice seemed...gentler somehow, as he suggested that the young man get some sleep. He turned and walked away before Logan could muster a reply. He watched his back as he receded into the darkness of the cave, and decided to take his advice. Curling up with his back towards the cave, Logan covered himself with his sleeping roll and watched the rain continue to fall. His eyes grew heavy, slowly closing despite themselves.

His dreams were quiet that night.

<<OOC: Uh, guys? I'm not Logan. I'm the guy who is WRITING Logan's part.

If you have questions or comments as to why my character is doing something, TG me or send me an email, and I'll explain myself as clearly as possible, and we won't clutter up this RP with OOC comments. Not to press the point too much, but in my mind it made perfect sense that the natives would have knowledge of this...maybe they chatted about it with Benelli over lunch, or they overheard Enuti in the cave...I was just trying to add to the story.

I don't mind if all your characters want to see Logan dead or gone, but please try not to take it out on me. I'm just trying to contribute to the story. I feel I have been very faithful to who my character is: a teenager who has had everything he wanted in life, used to the finest creature comforts, suddenly thrust into an uncomfortable and potentially deadly situation where all his money can't help him, and people don't kiss his ass. He is slowly discovering truths about himself, and trying to become better because of it.

Hate Logan all you want...but I'm just a guy like y'all, trying to enjoy a good RP.>>

Tara was not sure how much of what Enuti said she actually heard, for she could only recall random words in his speech. Her mind seemed to focus on key words, lingering on them until another one took its place. But somehow once he had finished, she had pieced together enough to know what he had been saying. And as she sat beside him, she knew that if she was going to be able to get through the rest of the journey, she was going to have to talk to Moran, her only doubt was whether now, without sleep was the right time.

She turned to where the professor was lying, just making out the glint where the firelight touched his eyes. For a moment she smiled, unsure whether she was recalling old times or those that had happened just a brief time ago. Then as quickly as it appeared it was gone, lost as were her thoughts in the sudden change in Enuti as he went about organising the rest of the party.

Remaining where she was for a moment, she watched as the group almost switched places, those that had been sleeping were now taking up positions of watch, while those that had been keeping a vigil now gave in to sleep’s call. She knew that she should follow her fellow companions’ example and get some sleep, knowing that without any rest she would become a burden to them the next day.

Moving over to where Moran was, she gave him a little smile, trying to hide her nerves and her embarrassment, although as she looked at him in the semi-darkness her eyes momentarily showed something that she might not have been so willing to reveal in the daylight. “Professor, I…” Her mouth went dry, an unseen blush growing on her cheeks. “Goodnight, Professor.” Her nerves left her. She would talk to him in the morning.

Giving him another smile, this one forced to hide her discomfort, she headed over to where her belongings were lying on the ground, and made herself comfortable for the rest of the night. It was some time before she fell asleep, her eyes and thoughts resting on Moran, as her mind went through speech after speech, trying to find the right way to approach him. Finally her body gave up fighting to keep her conscious, though her thoughts continued into her dreams.

Moran blinked several times are Tara walked off to sleep, his jaw snapping shut audibly. He had pondered a responce, but had been cut off before he could say anything. He sighed slightly, watching the rain fall.

It was a long night. Hours punctuated by little to nothing of interest. Watches shifted without much difficulty, and the rain showed no intention of stopping. After awhile, Moran started to wonder where all this water was coming from; clearly they were importing clouds from all over the world.

Tomorrow's gonna be a long fucking day... he thought darkly. All day in this damn cave was not going to be enjoyable. Logan seemed to have a real grudge against Enuti, and the native clearly wasn't fond of the young man either. And Tara was a delicate situation too. He'd cought the last bit about the fruit, and knew that he found Tara attractive, but they had still crossed a line and would have to deal with the act and the emotional impact of it. It was not a conversation he was looking forward to. Yeah a real long day.


Eventually, morning came (such as it was). He got up and set to restarting the fire and seeing about breakfast.

The night was long, and Tara slept on and off fitfully, her dreams sometimes pleasant, sometimes frightful. Once she saw the dawning light out of the cave entrance during one of her awakened periods, she sighed with relief, grateful at not having to face any more of her personal demons.

Pulling herself up from the ground, she felt her body groan in protest, as it showed her the full effects of the previous day. The walking, and other things had caused her muscles to stiffen and the emotional trauma of events had left her with a headache. Placing her hand on her forehead, she muttered some oaths under her breath, before grabbing her bag and fishing through it until she found some pills.

This is all I need, she thought as she popped the tablets in her mouth, and drank a sip from her water flask to wash them down.

She looked through around the cave, watching everyone’s movements for a while. Her gaze fell on the professor, as he worked on rebuilding the fire. She knew she had chickened out yesterday, knew that she had had the perfect opportunity to talk to him as the others slept. She recalled Enuti’s words on the matter of the fruit for a moment wondered if he had spoken the truth. As she watched the Moran work, she knew the quicker she got the conversation with him over with, the sooner they could move on, but not yet…

Her gaze continued round the cave, falling upon each of the members of the party, watching for a moment as they went about their business, until finally her eyes stared at the body of her father.

Before I do anything, I have to give you peace.

Rising from the ground, she brushed herself down, and walked towards the fire, suddenly feeling a cold chill. A quick look out of the cave informed her that the rain had not relented during the night, and they would be forced to remain inside for a little longer.

Moving closer to her goal, she smiled at Moran. “Good morning, Professor. I see the weather hasn’t improved.” She moved her body, trying to rid her muscles of their stiffness, with a series of small stretches. “At least the night was quiet.” She lowered herself to the ground, trying as best as she could to behave as if everything was back to normal.

His night had been tentative, restless and filled with shadowy dreams. He had finally given up on trying to sleep, and simply watched as the dark gave way to the dim light of a damp, grey morning. Logan rose, slowly shaking the stiffness from his bones. He stretched, then decided to work out to ease the soreness in his muscles.

He began moving through the forms he had learned as a child, an eclectic mix of different martial arts styles that had been taught to him by Brick. He hadn't done this for awhile, but the moves came back quickly, and soon he was darting quickly and fluidly, his body rapidly picking up speed. Despite the morning cold, a sheen of sweat began to form on his body. He continued to push himself, until he finished his exercises twenty minutes later.

He felt refreshed and invigorated as he stepped back into the cave, a natural smile on his face, He saw movement near the fire, and approached it quietly, not wanting to wake those that still slept, their steady breathing loud in the enclosed space. Logan saw Moran fiddling with the fire, with Tara by his side. He approached slowly then crouched down across from them, warming his hands before the strengthening flames. He spoke quietly.

"Good morning, sir...g'morning, Tara. I hope you guys slept well. Looks like another crappy day out there, and it looks like it won't be getting better any time soon. Do you think we should stay here until the storm breaks, or attempt to move on despite it?"

Small talk. Safe talk. Words that would show interest, but also display passivity. Any words that would help to slowly mend the bridges between him and the people he travelled with. He was tired of being alone, tired of conflict...just tired.

Turning at Logan’s approach, she gave him a smile in greeting, hoping to start the day afresh, leaving behind all of the tension that seemed to be flowing through everyone the previous day. “Good morning, Logan.” She shivered as the cold seemed to rush through her body, slowly being pushed away by the heat of the growing fire. “Personally I will be glad to get back to a proper bed.” She sighed at the thought of the one she had left on the boat, not the most luxurious of beds, but still better than a sleeping on the ground. “How about you?” When she asked, she honestly did not think anyone would be able to answer that they slept like a log.

Janr watched silently as the cave awoke, glad there was movement again. The rain had been relentless, monotonous, and boring. He had nearly fallen asleep more then once, for the day before had been trying and long. And well, standing watch in the rain was not nearly as interesting as the day before either.

But now that people were waking, he was done on watch, and he took a deep drink of water from his canteen, which he had had the idea to fill up everyone's with the cool, fresh rainwater. Their canteens were now exactly where they had left them, though, so it was unlikely anyone would notice. The cave had infact been rather cool during the night, and was fairly chilly right now, despite being in a tropical rainforest.

It was rather odd, but certainly not the oddest thing about this trip. Gazing outside, he thought he saw the sun beginning to break through the clouds in the distance. That would be good, though he knew they would not move on today.

He moved along, and bent over Enuti and Beneli, and gently shook them awake, noticing Uncle doing the same thing to the young locals. Enuti and Beneli stretched, then slowly woke up, shaking some of the sleep from their eyes and their bodies as they stood. Slightly stiff from the day before, they were fortunately used to sleeping on the ground and far more used to lots of physical activity in a day, and so the stiffness was merely passing.

As Enuti realized what was going on, he shushed his companions before they could speak, and they moved about silently preparing the freeze dried food, while their leader listened with one ear to the conversation between the three explorers, moving about quietly as the natives prepared for the day.

Moran was digging through his backpack as Logan returned from his workout in the rain. It mildly amused Moran, but he had more pressing things on his mind. He nodded to Logan's greating before walking to the mouth of the cave with a small tin cup. He leaned against the cave mouth, humming softly as the rain quickly filled the cup before walking back to the campfire and setting the cup down next to it. As the water boiled, he resumed digging through his pack before pulling out a Ziploc baggie full of instant coffee. He grinned a little, dumping some into the cup before putting the baggie away and sipping it. He made a rather pained face, "Ugh... luke warm crap coffee..." before drinking the rest of the cup. He grinned, "Start the day with dreadful coffee and almost anything will seem mild by comparison."

He sat back down, picking at his breakfast and glanced around the cave. He tapped his teeth with a plastic spork for a moment, "Well... it looks their there's a break in the clouds, with luck we might get out of here by afternoon. Don't want to spend too much time soaked to the bone; not healthy." He paused before pointing to the covered body of Tara's father, "But, first things first. Tara, you're still leaning towards cremation, yes?"

Tara watched Moran as he made his coffee, suddenly craving a nice hot cup as available at the University canteen. The thought only made her realise everything that she was missing back at home. Hot water…lights…heat. “Filter coffee would go down well right now.” She sighed, as the aroma of the coffee, regardless of how poor the quality looked, reached her senses. She smiled, still half asleep, at his joke.

She groaned as she took a sip of the brew she had in her own cup, before looking over at the body of her father as the professor spoke about him. “To be honest, Professor, I think cremation is the only way. I can’t return his body home and I wouldn’t be able to rest with his body buried here.” For one, I don’t know what horrors are here. She smiled sadly, unsure how to ask. “You and my father were old friends. Would you be kind enough to…you know, say something?”

Moran smirked, "Real coffee, real bed, air conditioning... Hell, even vapid television would be nice about now." He chuckled a little, smiling at Tara and Logan, "Welcome to the exciting world of anthroarchaelogy, gang. I suppose it helps you appretiate what you've got, huh?"

He turned more serious and nodded at Tara's request, "Of course. Hopefully the rain will end soon so we can do this properly."

“The things you’ve got, or the things you’ve left behind, Professor?” Tara smiled as she saw the images appeared as Moran listed off each of the items. Not that she hated her time in the jungle, nor was it like she had not experienced worse in the past. Fortunately, this trip with the professor had not turned out half as bad as her last one, and the party were all in one piece.

She looked at Moran and smiled. “Despite the hardships, the lack of luxuries and all those kind of things, it’s been kind of interesting.” She blushed slightly, realising her words. “I mean, I can’t think of anyone I would trust as much as you to guide us safely through this expedition.” Her head flicked in the direction of Professor Craven’s body. “I know that my father had the same faith in you, which is why he always spoke so highly of you.” She smiled. “And why I am most honoured that you agreed to undertake this endeavour with me.”

Fidgeting with her cup, finally placing it on the ground, she stood up once more, stretching her muscles which seemed to be cramping up with the lack of movement. Bending slightly, she ran her hands up and down her legs as she tried to encourage blood flow. “The sooner we get out of this cave the better.” She suddenly shivered, as if the ghost of her father just brushed past her.

Moran shrugged, "A little bit of both, I suppose. You certainly don't take luxuries for granted once you return." He smiled at Tara, the double entendre slipping past unnoticed, "Well, yeah. Then again, 'May you live in interesting times' is supposed to be a curse." He grinned, "But, as long as we aren't fighting hordes of monsters, I guess it's an improvement." The blase attitude of his statement showed just how many times he had been chased by monsters.

He looked mildly uncomfortable at the praise, more from modesty than anything else, "Er, well, yes. The respect certainly was mutual." He welcomed the change of topic, also standing to work the kinks out of his body. The amount of popping joints was a little surprizing, but it certainly looked intentional. He fished a flashlight out of his bag and reattached his holster to his leg, "Speaking of, I think I'll go take a look back there. See if I can find anything else of note." He thought about going into more detail, but figured it would just upset Tara. He took his notepad and pen, and without another word set off into the cave again.

As Moran got up and left, heading for the place where they had come across the body of her father, Tara sighed sadly. Has she really thought that she could make things better by pretending they had not happened? Are you always going to be this foolish, Tara? She silently asked herself before walking away from the fire towards the entrance of the cave.

She stood, watching the blanket of rain fall past her eyes. The ground looked like it was a nothing more than a pool of mud, but she knew once the sun came out, the heat of the area would have the ground hard within no time. The silence of the outside world seemed surreal, just the beating of water upon the ground, with the odd brave or foolish animal calling out into the morning air. Not that she was overly concerned with the silence; at least it meant the things that had attacked them previously would be less of a worry.

Looking up into the sky, she could see that the sun was beginning to break through the clouds, the thought made her smile. She really wanted to leave this tomb. She shuddered as the image of her father flashed into her mind, the blood message on the wall. Shaking her head, she pushed it from her head, as she turned back to look into the cave, her eyes following the path Moran had taken, hoping that he would be able to find some clue as to what had happened to Professor Craven.

The young man had remained silent as they spoke, listening to their easily spoken words, and the intimacy of their friendship that was apparant in their voices. Logan was learning that sometimes it was better to simply be silent, listen...and learn. As Moran walked towards the back of the cave, the younger man turned to Tara, hoping to take advantage of the solitude to speak with her, and offer his sympathies on the loss of her father. Noticing that her eyes were locked on the retreating form of the Professor, he decided against saying anything. Instead, he stoked the fire, added another log then stood up, grabbing his small side-bag. Taking out his mini-lamp, he looked down at Tara.

"I'm going to join the prof...I don't think he should be wandering off into these uncharted caves on his own."

Logan followed the path that Moran had taken, hoping for the opportunity to help him somehow.

Tara watched as Logan walked off in the same direction that the professor had taken only moments before. So far on the journey, Logan seemed to her to keep a distance, as if he wanted to do more, but somehow could not find his footing. She could not help wondering whether the slight clearing of tension between him and Enuti, and a relatively good sleep – if he had got any at all – was deciding factors in this change…or maybe their location had gotten to him.

She walked back over to the fire, and picked up her cup, downing the last of the dregs that rested in the bottom of the cup, once again wishing she could get a decent cup like she had most mornings before coming on this trip. Letting the heat of the fire warm her still cold body, she closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of life around her.

Enuti sat around, silently eating, as did his compatriots, and the local natives. It was a quiet time, as he watched the Professor, followed moments later by Logan, head back into the depths of the cave.

One eye stayed on Logan until he vanished into the shadows, and then Enuti relaxed. While the rain fell, they would travel nowhere.

After a little while, he extracted a tiny vial from his pack, and poured an even smaller amount of it into a cup of water, which he held over the red hot embers of the fire with a stick. A faint odor crept from it, not unpleasant in the slightest, until it was steaming fiercely.

It all had to do with the fact that Craven was brought up out of the dry air in the back of the cave to the front where it was raining. The man had been dead quite a long time, a very long time, possibly.

It would be noticable soon. So Enuti was getting the jump on it.

As the light from the campfire dwindled, Moran flicked on his flashlight, moving slowly and studying the walls for evidence as he walked, murmuring softly to himself. As he knelt to study a bloody partial hand print, he pulled out his notepad, pressing it against the print to lift it. He shined the light directly on it as he looked it over. It seemed harmless enough; he was more interested in distortions as opposed the oddity of the thing itself. He blew on it gently to dry the blood before carefully folding it and slipping it in his pocket.

As he stood, he heard Logan's footsteps; without looking he smiled, speaking softly, "Here to help out Logan?" How he knew who was walking towards him was something he apparently didn't care to explain. He turned to face Logan, "I trust you have a notepad and something to write with?" He pointed to the opposite wall, "Keep an eye on that wall for anything out of the ordinary. This is the path that Prof. Craven took, and I'm hoping to find anything that may give us insight into how he met his fate. The grotto we found him in is a bit further down; I suspect that most of the evidence will be there." His tone was professional and almost cold, but more from his intense focus on the task at hand. "I don't believe there to be any creatures dwelling in this cave, but keep alert, just in case."

When Moran called his name, the young man stopped suddenly, surprised he'd been heard. Greeting the professor, Logan was immediately struck by the fact that he had not been sent back to the fire by the older man, and in fact, the professor seemed to want him around! A warm glow flowed through him, and he quickly acknowledged Moran's words.

"Yes sir...I have a digicam and datapad handy..." he reached into his side-bag and withdrew the tiny devices. The batteries were still charged, good for a few hours. At the mention of the possibility of running across a dangerous denizen of the cave, Logan reached down, loosening the big pistol in his holster. He followed the professor, a few steps behind, observing how he conducted his investigation. He looked carefully at the wall, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. He ran his hand down it's smooth, damp surface, looking for something his eyes hadn't detected.

Tara stared at Enuti as he wandered around the cave, using something that he had taken from his pocket. It was not long before the aroma filled the cave, although it took a lot longer for her to understand the need for such an action. She stood up and walked over to the native, greeting him with a smile, which was all she did for a moment as she pondered her thoughts.

“I want to thank you…for last night.” She fidgeted, as she stood before him. “I probably wasn’t very grateful sounding, but I really appreciated your words.” Suddenly she turned to the body of Professor Craven and sighed. “What you are going to do for my father means a lot to me. I hope one day I will be able to thank you all…even Beneli for accompanying me on this quest.”

Enuti turned to Tara and smiled, and then chuckled as she mentioned Beneli. "You're very welcome, Miss Craven. I feel somewhat responsible for Beneli's actions, since I brought him with us, and well, I felt a need to help heal that rift, at least for myself." He shrugged, turning his gaze to the slowly emptying cup of water, the last bit of steam leaving it.

He grinned. "Not really the intended use for that, but it'll do." He glanced around the cave, noticing that Tara was the only one not occupied in something, and he motioned for her to sit again, as he took his own seat. "Would you like to tell me about him? What he did, what he stood for? For all our quest to find him, we know nothing of him."

As he spoke, the other natives slowly drifted over towards the two sitting by the embers of the fire as they did whatever it was they were doing.

Tara looked at Enuti and smiled, before letting her eyes drift over to the body of her father. For a moment she recalled the last time she had seen him, getting all excited about the trip. He had even stopped by the University to see here, rather than just to her on the phone, as was his normal way. She suddenly felt sad, as she remembered the visit, wishing she had known they what she knew now. Not that he would have refrained from leaving even if he knew it would be his last expedition.

She returned her attention to Enuti, barely noticing the others milling around. “My father was like a schoolboy in that everything in his life was an adventure.” She laughed lightly as she brought to mind his enthusiasm. “He was fond of his profession…more than fond…I honestly believe it was his life.” She smiled sadly. “Not that he did not care for my mother and me, but sometimes I think we came second to ancient mythical relics. Mother used to say, if we wanted to attract his attention, we should bury ourselves in the garden and wait for him to dig us up.”

Stopping for a moment, she ran her hands lightly through her hair. “Don’t get me wrong, he loved us…he just got wrapped up in discovering new things. He was my inspiration for following in his footsteps…well, him and Professor Moran. They had been friends for as long as I can remember. Father would often talk of his desire to partner up with the professor, but unfortunately, their timetables never let them.”

Picking up her cup, she brought it to her mouth, before realising that it was already empty. She cradled it in her hands, as she let her eyes wander to the cave entrance. “I can understand what brought him here, even if I do not know exactly. There is something here, something that caught his attention, and I want to know what.” She looked back at Enuti, tears welling in her eyes. “I want to know what was so important that he gave up his life and his time with me for.” Her voice sounded bitter and hurt, as she spoke the words.

Enuti smiled gently, and seeing the quizzical expressions on the faces of those natives who had gathered around while Tara spoke, broke into a stream of the native tongue, explaining what she had said, translating the coversation. As they nodded, understanding, he turned back to Tara.

"Miss Craven, I never knew your father, and so I cannot reassure as I would like to, but I can tell you, on my word of honor, we will do everything we can to find out what happened and why."

Moran nodded, "Good, good. Snap a photo of that bloody print too, then."

As they moved deeper into the cave a couple more prints were found which were promptly photographed and copied. Moran was no criminologist, but his world often intersected with their's, even if his evidence tended to be much, much older. Before too long, they were in the grotto where Craven's body had been found. Moran shook his head sadly as he remembered his discovery before glancing back at Logan, "Lots of pictures here. Anything remotely interesting or bloody; especially what he wrote on the wall over there." He left Logan to his tasks and started his own investigation, very softly murmuring unitelligable words under his breath. Saint Toad didn't usually respond to off-hand supplications like this, but after his dream and given the circumstances, he figured it was worth a shot.

The grotto was rather bland in and of itself. Its diameter was about twelve feet, and there was no back exit, simply the mouth to the main branch. It was easy to spot where Craven had been by the gap in two large blood pools, which weren't far from the bloody scrawlings on the wall. Aside from the writing, the walls seemed reasonably normal: there were no claw marks or strange substances. There was a vague feeling of dread that permiated the grotto, but that could easily be assigned to the sight of blood and the fact that a man had died here recently.

Tara smiled at Enuti. He had been very comforting over the last couple of days, and seemed to be full of more wisdom that she would ever be, and he could not much older than herself. “Thank you…it’s been good to be able to talk about him.” She shook her head sadly, silently berating herself. “I thought, in some moments, that we would find him alive. Seeing him waiting at the end of the journey, having lost this way back through the jungle…or I thought I would never see him again.”

Her eyes filled again with tears, which she quickly blinked away. “One thing I never imagined was to see him how we found him.” She frowned suddenly, anger spreading over her features. “I don’t know what did it, but I know we’ll find it…and it will not do to us what it did to him.” As she spoke, her eyes flicked over to the corpse lying in the far side of the cave.

Enuti nodded solemnly, and then softly translated Tara’s latest statements into the native tongue for the others. He resolved to himself that he would keep one bullet for his pistol.

The last one would not be for creatures or monsters or demons or whatever they found. The last one would be for Tara, so that her young form would not be tormented by the same things that had destroyed her father, a self inflicted death. If it came to it, he would empty her skull swiftly than let that insanity do it slowly. But he would not mention it, for it was bad luck to speak of such things. When one voiced something, it had a bad way of coming true.

And despite his preparation, that was one event he did not want to come true. He glanced outside, noticing a change in the ambient sounds, and smiled as he saw the downpour lessening. “We will do everything we can, Miss Craven.”

Moran nodded, "Good, good. Snap a photo of that bloody print too, then."

As they moved deeper into the cave a couple more prints were found which were promptly photographed and copied. Moran was no criminologist, but his world often intersected with their's, even if his evidence tended to be much, much older. Before too long, they were in the grotto where Craven's body had been found. Moran shook his head sadly as he remembered his discovery before glancing back at Logan, "Lots of pictures here. Anything remotely interesting or bloody; especially what he wrote on the wall over there." He left Logan to his tasks and started his own investigation, very softly murmuring unitelligable words under his breath. Saint Toad didn't usually respond to off-hand supplications like this, but after his dream and given the circumstances, he figured it was worth a shot.

The grotto was rather bland in and of itself. Its diameter was about twelve feet, and there was no back exit, simply the mouth to the main branch. It was easy to spot where Craven had been by the gap in two large blood pools, which weren't far from the bloody scrawlings on the wall. Aside from the writing, the walls seemed reasonably normal: there were no claw marks or strange substances. There was a vague feeling of dread that permiated the grotto, but that could easily be assigned to the sight of blood and the fact that a man had died here recently.

The young student recorded everything he could, staying well back of Moran. Later, the video could be reviewed on a frame-by-frame basis. Logan watched carefully as the professor made his way into the grotto, straining his ears to hear the unintelligble mutterings of the older man. He followed him into the dimly lit cavern, the light from his camera bouncing off the walls. The air seemed staler here, and the temperature had dropped noticeably. The rusty smell of blood tainted the air, and Logan shivered despite himself. The question popped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"But why would Dr. Craven come HERE?"

Moran smiled sadly at Logan's question, "Hell if I know, Logan." He shook his head a little as he walked around the little cavelet, looking for any clues, "Might have been trying to hide. I almost didn't notice this spot before. And all we have to go on are his last words, gruesome as the medium may be." He softly read the words again, hoping to find some meaning, "Darkness. Tunnel. Horror. In my mind. Pain." He kneeled down to the remaining words, trying to make them out, frowning, "This isn't even English..." He scribbled a few notes and paled a little, "It's... Xothic..."

He flipped to a fresh sheet of paper and very carefully copied down the bloody letters, doing his best to match the jagged hooks, jumbled order and overlapping letters. As he wrote, he softly mumbled the occational letter or syllable, the language clearly not anything designed with the human larynx in mind. "G'th'k... fthagn... mglw'nafh..." As he finished writing he chewed on his pen nervously, "This... this could be better." He glanced up at Logan, having almost forgotten about the student as he copied the frenzied letters, "He was definately hiding from something..."

"Hiding...? From what?" Logan nervously eyed the room at his own uttered question. Things had suddenly taken a turn for the weird, the strange, alien language and writings adding a surreal feel to the proceedings. Xothic? Now what the hell was that?? Even the normally unflappable Moran seemed nervous, as the chewed and tattered end of his pen demonstrated. The young man peered over the professors shoulders, taking pictures of everything Moran wrote down. His other arm had dropped to his side, where his sweaty hand hovered close to the handle of his big pistol.

Moran smirked as he stood back up, "I'm not sure. I don't recognize this particular supplication," he gestured towards the Xothic script. "It might have been a warding, a prayer, a description... I don't know, I'll have ponder it; see if I recognize anything familiar in it." He sighed, "Daniel found what he was looking for, and ended up here. Hiding."

He flipped his notebook closed and stuffed it in a pocket. He grinned a little at Logan's hovering hand, "That might not do you any good, just so's you know. Some things don't mind bullets..." He tapped Logan's temple, "Some things aren't even tangible..." He grinned a little, "Nasty as those panthers were, they were still natural." He whispered something softly, making a strange pass with his hand before starting to walk back towards the mouth of the cave, "Come on, I don't think we're going to find anything else here."

He followed closely behind the professor, stealing glances behind them as they left the cavern. He felt better as they gained distance from the site of Cravens death, and in the distance he could see the flickering fire that cast a glow against the walls, indicating the campsite of the rest of their group. The professor's words had been cryptic, and revealed nothing more than additional questions. Logan could not get his mind around the concept of a non-physical threat...if there were ghosts or evil spirits in these caves, what could they do about it?

Nothing came to mind, and Logan felt a little more vulnerable. He stuck to the professor like glue as they continued on.

Seeing Enuti’s gaze move to the entrance of the cave, she turned her head to see what had capture his attention, a smile appearing on her lips as she heard the change in the pattern of rainfall. As he spoke, she looked back at him, the happiness on her face remaining. “Thank you, Enuti. It means a lot to me what you and the others have done.” Her voice revealed her sincerity. “You all came along with no real idea what we were doing, and have been most generous.”

Her eyes returned to the growing brightness outside. “It seems as if something has decided to smile down on us…the weather is visibly getting better.” She laughed lightly to herself. “Although I’m not sure which is worse, the downpour or the sweltering heat.” And on top of that, they had to lit a fire to finally lay her father’s tortured remains to rest.

Enuti nodded. "We each had our own reasons for this journey, Miss Craven. And it does seem that we'll be able to move on in the morning, and we'll be able to," he swallowed the words, "tonight." The rain was quickly dying down, passing on, and he smiled, and began to snap orders to the other natives.

And they went out as the rain passed, searching for the wood, which it would take quite a while to collect and dry out, to have enough for the cremation. Lots of wood to burn a body, especially to burn hot enough to burn bone.

He turned back from giving the orders as Moran and Logan came out of the back of the cave, Moran looking pensive, Logan, of all things, looking worried. "Find something, Professor?"

Tara helped as best as she could, gathering the wood for the funeral, needing something to occupy her mind. The Professor and Logan had disappeared into the back caves some time ago, and it was only know that she allowed herself to wonder what – if anything – they had found. She could not help being a little anxious for them both, but Enuti did not seem to have any concern for the two, so she felt a little more easy.

Gathering as much as she could, she carried the last bundle back to the cave, entering just as Enuti greeted the Professor. Dropping the wood to the ground, she turned to see the two wanderers walking up to the fire, her eyes expectantly on Moran as she waited for his answer, silently hoping that he had discovered something, but not wanting to set too much hope on his words. Deep inside, she was not sure she wanted to know the full truth of her father’s demise, and yet she knew she would not rest without it.

Moran smiled wryly, "There's only so much we could learn, lacking proper tools, or access to Bloodshadows." He paused, "Er, that's an ancient form of hedge magic that was practiced by the Hyperboreans on the Hack several thousand years ago." He sighed, "It's a lost art, but it would allow for the practitioner to see the events that transpired immediately before the blood was spilled. Commonly accepted theory is that it was used from crime investigation. Skilled 'Shadowers could see who commited the crime."

He shook his head a little, trying to displace the useless trivia, "We found a couple of bloody handprints on the cave wall, so I think Daniel was wounded as he moved through the cave. Based on the other writings on the wall, I think he was hiding." He sighed, "He was probably the last survivor of his team."

He walked over to Tara and flipped open his notebook to his copy of Craven's Xothic scribblings. They were vaguely similar to the script on the temple walls from Tara and Moran's first trip together. While it was clearly the same language, it was also clearly different words than what was on the temple; like comparing Hamlet to a chemical warning fact sheet. "Look familiar? I haven't had a chance to attempt a translation or transliteration, but it seems pretty clear that something sinister was happening." He rested his free hand on Tara's shoulder, "I intend to find out what did this. And banish it."

He frowned a little. He would be surprized if Tara hadn't expected something like this, but he hated having to tell her, especially since he only had conjecture and theory as opposed to solid fact. He closed the notepad and but it back in his pocket, letting Tara absorb this information.

---

Unseen and unnoticed, a presence seeped out of Craven's body. The shell was dead and a new host was needed. It hovered near the roof of the cave, considering its target. The Girl possessed a relic-blade, tainted with the soul of another; she would not do. The Guide had a strange protection from its kind, as did the Priest; they would not do. The Man was tempting; it possessed great strength and endurance, more so than the former host; however, the Man's soul was already claimed by another, a much more powerful entity; he would definately not do.

That left the five others.

Logan wondered if he was as pale as he felt, as the professor described what they had found. All this talk of magic and spirits and things that made no sense at all smashed against his belief system, turning the young mans world upside down. He followed Moran to the fire, nodding a slight greeting to Enuti and the other natives. Crouching on his haunches, he listened intently to the professors vow to "banish" whatever had caused Cravens death. The steel in his voice forced Logan to believe him. New respect flared within him, and he vowed to help his teacher any way he could.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

In the darkness, wrapped in the leather of another story, a young soul trembled, and was called into the now. Deep inside of Tara's packsack, a dim blue glow started to pulse, slowly with increasing speed. The Daru had slept until needed, and the mystic blade quivered with expectation.

Tepak watched over his young charge, and smiled. No harm would come to her.

Tara listened as the professor spoke, a shiver running up her spine at his words. If her father was inflicted of his wounds in the cave then… She looked around as if she expected to see some dark shadow approaching them, wondering where – if it was still here – just where had it found to hide from them. Moran and Logan, not to mention herself and the natives had seen quite a bit of the cave.

This thought help to ease her fears a little until Moran pulled out his notebook, and the familiar yet unintelligible scribbles made her fear come rushing back, suddenly her mind was full of a previous trip and all the horror that she still linked to it. “Are you saying you think this is a worship of the same…beast?” She finished weakly, unable to find the right word to describe what she had seen.

Suddenly the image of the native Tepek, who had helped them to survive that journey, came clearly into her mind. Running her fingers through her hair, she smiled, before banishing the thoughts until another time, though once again she felt oddly at ease.

She looked at Moran as his hand rested on her shoulder. “I know that if anyone can find a solution to this, it is you.” She looked at the others and smiled. “And together, I think we’ll survive another demon…or whatever it is this jungle decides to throw at us.” Her voice began to rise with her defiance. “It will not beat us…like it beat him.” She looked over at the body of her father, her eyes blazing with anger.

Enuti nodded at Logan, having been surprised that Tara had gone to help with the second load, while he had arranged the first load around the fire to help it dry out. When the Professor produced his notebook, Enuti frowned at Logan's continued, uncharacteristic silence, and moved to look at the words.

He blinked in surprise, in shock, his mouth falling open, his eyes looking up in amazement at Moran, then at Tara. "You can read the tongue of the Ancients?" he blurted out, not meaning to interrupt, but unavoidably, and understandablys confused.

Moran shook his head gently at Tara's question, "No, I don't believe so. The script and language is the same, but the phrases are different. I think this is a unique entity. Not any less a scourge, but not the same thing. Hopefully your father was writing its name or how to get rid of it, I'll have to study it some more." He smiled a little, "With any luck this banishment won't be as taxing as the last one..."

Moran was just as surprised by Enuti as Enuti was by him, if the look on the professor's face was anything to go by. He opened his notebook again and glanced at it and then at Enuti, "This? Well... as much as one can, I suppose." He smiled thinly, "There's times I wish I couldn't... but... I can generally make it out, yes."

It was all French to him.

Logan peered over Morans shoulder, trying to make some sense of the scratchings and symbols that the professor had copied down. On hearing that he actually read and understood the language, Logan was suitably impressed yet again. Enuti seemed to be equally familiar with the script, which surprised the younger man somewhat, his ignorance coming to the fore. Logan knew so little about these people, and what he knew came from his own preconceptions about these natives. He looked at Enuti with new eyes, understanding that there was more to learn about these people, and they were more advanced than they seemed.

He was pleasantly pleased to find himself feeling clear-headed and ready for...anything. The day was clearing outside the cave, and now they had a focus to their mission, a focus he clearly understood.

Revenge.

Who...or WHAT...killed Tara's father? How was it linked to this other "beast" that Moran and Tara kept referring to? These questions would hopefully be answered in time, and it gave him drive and direction. Whatever the case may be, he knew that now there was a real, palpable danger out there, a danger that could snuff out their lives as easily as it had Prof. Cravens.

He caressed the handle of his big pistol, knowing that he may have need of it soon.

Tara turned to Enuti and smiled. “I’m afraid Professor Moran is not one for blowing his own trumpet, so I shall do it for him.” She turned to the professor and winked. “If there is anyone on this planet that can get to the bottom of what my father was trying to scribble on that wall, then it is him.” Flicking some loose strands of hair from her face, she continued. “My father declared Moran the foremost scholar in this particular field, and he was no amateur himself.”

She looked at the note and frowned. “And although I have a limited knowledge – you can’t be surrounded by two experts without a little rubbing off – other than recognising the similarities it has me stumped.” She raised her eyebrow, in a sign on defeat.

Then she turned her attention back to something Enuti had said. “Ancients? You mean there is evidence of this writing somewhere else?” She looked at Moran, and frowned. “If there are more of their writings around, maybe we can discover something about them…rather than just rely on the little my father left us.”

Moran smiled weakly at Tara's praise, "Yes, well... somewhere between high praise and modesty lies the truth, I wager." He smirked walking over to his back an pulling out a well-worn notebook, "Well, I was going to do this later, but I can see if I've seen anything similar before." The tattered notebook was filled with scribblings and notes; the Xothic written in normal-sized writing, the english translations and explinations much smaller and more cramped. It was clearly years of work. Moran started murmuring softly as he flipped through the two notebooks, his words clearly not english.

Tara watched as the professor walked away and began to work on a translation, a job much better suited to a library or some similar place rather than in the field, where a person could not hit a pile of reference books on a whim. But if anyone was capable of dealing with a translation in the middle of a cave, with the bare minimum of aids then Moran was the man.

Watching him disappear to his studying, Tara turned back to Enuti and smiled sadly. “You think we have enough wood for the cremation, or do you want me to collect some more.” Not that anything could take place until Moran had finished with his task, as he was going to say some words before the funeral pyre was lit, and despite her desire to bring peace to her father, she did not want to disturb Moran while he was trying to work out just what they might encounter ahead.

Watching him disappear to his studying, Tara turned back to Enuti and smiled sadly. “You think we have enough wood for the cremation, or do you want me to collect some more.” Not that anything could take place until Moran had finished with his task, as he was going to say some words before the funeral pyre was lit, and despite her desire to bring peace to her father, she did not want to disturb Moran while he was trying to work out just what they might encounter ahead.

Logan got to his feet quickly, smiling gently down at Tara.

"Let me take care of that...it'll give me something to do."

He left Tara and Enuti to their conversation and joined the younger tribesman outside. It was beginning to be a beautiful day, and the young man felt at peace, despite the unnatural circumstances, and strange discoveries. He smiled in greeting to his native friends, and they quickly loaded him down with dry wood, happy to have someone to help them with their burden.

Logan was surprised to find that he was happy as well.

Tara watched Logan leave, and smiled to herself, as she watched the young man finally seem to settle into the expedition. She knew that he had been finding it hard to get used to their location, after all, he had been used to the best of everything in his life, and suddenly having nothing must to come to terms with, but he appeared to have grown accustomed to it, and in doing so had lost a little of that ‘rich boy’ arrogance that seemed to surround him.

She reached into her pocket, her fingers finding a cold metal band of gold, which they clasped carefully. Her thoughts turned to her mother waiting at home, and for a moment she regretted her decision to come, wondering if she, like her father, would never return.

Quickly she shook the thought from her head, and looked back at Enuti. “Seems the wood is being dealt with and Professor Moran is busy with his translation.” She grinned. “What else is there for a girl to do in the middle of a jungle?” The desire for a bath sprung to mind, but she had no wish to bathe with the strange creatures that this place had to offer.

Moran sat on the cold stone, going back and forth between the two notebooks, pondering the strange symbols. The first thing he did was get a clean sheet to recopy Craven's cramped writting into a much easier to read script. He wasn't sure if the way it was written, but for now it didn't much matter.

After working for about an hour, he sighed and closed his notebooks, resting against the wall of the cave. He glanced over at Tara and shrugged weakly, "Well... from what I can tell, he was trying to write a spell; probably a dismissal one. I'm afraid he didn't finish..."

Having spent the last hour doing menial things around the cave, mostly unpacking and repacking her bags, stowing her father’s ring safely inside, Tara looked over at Moran as he spoke, his words not really filling her with much comfort. A dismissal spell really did not sound all that promising, especially if her father did not have the time to finish it. What was he funny from?

“Do you know the spell he was trying to use?” Her voice was low, and it was hard for her to hide the concern she was feeling. “Was it a specific one, or one that would rid him of any…?” She swallowed hard, not even wanting to know what kind of horror had killed her father. Remaining silent for a moment, her mind whirling with facts and fears, Tara took several deep breaths before continuing. “If we find what he did, will you be able to save us from it?”

He was enjoying himself, the hard, manual labor in the warm sunshine a welcome respite from the cramped quarters of the cave. He shouldered another load of wood, and reentered the cave. Logan noticed Tara and Moran in a huddled discussion, and as he watched their faces, he realized that somehow, they looked right together. Dumping the heavy logs onto the established pile, the young man stood, stretched, and returned to his task with vigor.

Moran shook his head sadly, "He never finished. I've made quite a few logical leaps just to get this far." He sighed, "Remember the last time I did a dismissal? All that stuff on the rubbing? It told me what it was for, what I had to do, and what to say. The spell is specific to the creature, deity, whatever, I'm afraid."

He looked over his notes, frowning, "This... thing... seems to be called 'The Ghost That Eats From Within'. No, I'm not familiar. All I can offer is wild speculation. My guess is this Ghost was released from your father's final desination." He put the notebook away, "We have to find out, though. And find the rest of the dismissal spell."

“Ghost That Eats From Within?” Tara tried to keep her features neutral, trying not to show the fear that Moran’s words instilled in her. She still had nightmares following their last adventure together, and really was not ready to add another to the collection. But deep down, she knew that as long as they survived the event itself, she could handle bad dreams. The Professor and her father had both witnessed much, and maybe over time you got used to seeing some of the horrors that resided secretly in the world.

“So before we can fight this thing – whatever it is – we have to find the text about it?” She looked about the cave, feeling like an idiot. “Professor, we don’t even know where to start looking for it. My father didn’t exactly leave a map of his route.” She shook her head sadly. “Not only has he got himself killed, but I’ve probably led us on a wild goose chase that will leave us the same way.”

“So before we can fight this thing – whatever it is – we have to find the text about it?” She looked about the cave, feeling like an idiot. “Professor, we don’t even know where to start looking for it. My father didn’t exactly leave a map of his route.” She shook her head sadly. “Not only has he got himself killed, but I’ve probably led us on a wild goose chase that will leave us the same way.”

It was a bad habit of his, one that had hurt him as much as it had helped him, but also one he was hard pressed to prevent. Logan turned his ear to Tara and Moran everytime he passed them to unload a new batch of wood. He caught their conversations in pieces, just enough to make him realize that he may finally be of use to the group. He walked over to where his gear was stowed, and rummaged through his pack. He pulled out the tattered piece of parchment that he'd carried since the beginning of his quest.

This had been the only legacy Logan's father had left behind. The senior Grey had been missing for two years, lost while exploring for diamonds in a backwater country. All that had been found of Grey was some scraps of clothing and this torn sheet of fabric. On one side it was covered in unreadable, heiroglyphic scribblings, written in a way that clearly defined them as coming from the hand of Xavier Grey. On the back, there was one word written, a name that led Logan to where he was today.

Moran.

He had started this quest believing that somehow, the professor had been responsible for the elder Grey's dissappearance. Now, he felt he knew better, and that perhaps Moran would be the person able to answer the question that plagued the young man: what had happened to his father?

Closing his pack, he walked over to the fire, crouching down beside it. Smiling tentatively, he reached out his hand, trembling slightly, and gave the parchment to Moran.

"Sir...this was all that was left to me and...it may be useful to you."

The senior Grey had been missing for two years, lost while exploring for diamonds on a backwater planet...THIS backwater planet.

Er, we're still on earth... so unless Logan's an OMG ALIEN, you've got a bit of a typo there, heh.

""The Ghost That Eats From Within"?" Sui asked, intrigued. "There's a native tale featuring a spirit which translates much the same - kuja-akahawé, roughly "The-spirit-which-eats-inside". I can tell it, if you'd like? Yes?"

Seeing no objections, Sui settled down crosslegged, cleared his throat, and dredged the story up from his memory.

"There was once a man named Umoka, a maker of houses. One day, a woman came to him; a house he had built had collapsed, and her husband was dead. So it fell to him to take her as a second wife; such was the way of things back then.

"But Umoka was not a rich man, and could not well support both his wives; they became poor, and there was no happiness in his family. The other people of the village said, this is Umoka's fault, since the house he built collapsed. They did not pay him to build for them, and Umoka grew poorer still.

"Then a stranger came to the village, asking to be ... put up for a while, I guess, but the other people of the village said, we have no room. Until he came to Umoka, who said, we have no food - for Umoka, as a maker of houses, naturally had a large one, although by now it was in poor repair.

"That's no matter, the stranger said, I have many good things. And he showed Umoka implements of iron, and fine jewels. They don't have iron down in the lowlands - it's a silt plain - but apparently there are iron ore deposits up here on the plateau.

"So Umoka housed the stranger, and they grew richer again; for many people traded with the stranger for his iron tools, and he spent profligately of what he earned.

"But for all that, Umoka didn't like the stranger; he was dependent upon the man's goodwill, after all. But there was also something else; the stranger would sing, sometimes, in a strange language, and Umoka didn't like the way he looked at his wives.

"Gradually, this began to happen more and more often, until one day Umoka came home to find the stranger dead. He'd cut himself with one of his tools, an amochoku - it's a rather nasty little knife-thing, serrated, with hooks. They used to use it in revenge killings.

"There was some fuss about it, but Umoka took the man's goods, and used the proceeds to build a new house - he wouldn't live in one where a man had killed himself, of course.

"Then Umoka's wife - the second one, who'd started all this - went a little mad, slowly. Umoka didn't like the way she looked at him. And one day he came home, and found that she'd killed herself - the same amochoku, even. This was starting to look unlucky, but Umoka wasn't that upset - she'd given him nothing but grief, after all.

"He built yet another house, and after all this he was starting to become poor again - after two people killing themselves in his home, the villagers were talking about a curse. And sure enough, after a while his first wife killed herself.

"This was too much - Umoka went to the village's sorcerer, who demanded an exorbitant fee, but Umoka paid it - without the sorcerer's word he was ruined, after all. He couldn't afford a fourth house, and who would associate with a man living in a place where someone had killed themselves?

"So; the sorcerer came to the house, and did certain rituals, cast auguries in the tracks of snails, all that. Eventually, he had Umoka dig up the body of his wife - which he didn't want to do, but you didn't say no to a sorcerer or unpleasant things would happen to you.

"Umoka found that his wife's body was still perfectly preserved, despite four days in the ground. The sorcerer bound the corpse in ropes made of human hair, and set it alight - as they did to demons.

"And then something came out, or tried to - the sorcerer had tied charms into the ropes, and it couldn't escape them even when the flesh had burnt off the body. Hair burns fast - when it burnt, the demon went poof. End of story.

"So yes, that's it - not quite as I was told it, the original is longer - but that's the essence of it. If the kuja-akahawé is actually something escaped from the First World, and if what killed the Professor is the kuja-akahawé, well ... I don't know string-charms."

Moran looked over the parchment as Sui told his story. He had always liked local folk lores and trying to see how they fit in with the "truth" of the matter. Of course, his own grasp of the "truth" was rather pathetic. It was too difficult to try and understand; you'd go mad. Hell, some would say that Moran had already gone around the bend, and perhaps he had a little. A sane man wouldn't carry a ridiculously over-power revolver on his thigh; a sane man wouldn't sell his soul to a horrible thing from beyond space and time; a sane man wouldn't be in the middle of a jungle running towards something he should flee; a sane man wouldn't do this time and time again until the things that go bump in the night thumped him.

Suii's story certainly did mesh on several levels with Craven's demise. He wasn't sure if Craven had been possessed by the demon, or simply chased; too hard to tell. The question was, what happened between Umoka's experience and now? How did it get up here? Perhaps the sorcerer didn't destroy the being, but simply banished it from this realm? That was a distinct possibility; there were many that Wait Outside The Borders.

So how had Craven freed it? If the rope was destroyed, there was no vessel on this planet. Maybe he'd stumbled along at the wrong time, much as Moran had done not too long ago. He turned the parchment over in his hands as he tried desperately to fit all the pieces together. His placement on the back disturbed him mildly, but he was more interested in the script on the other side.

"Actually, Logan... this is a recipe for muffins. See? 1 cup of flour, 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract, 1 virgin soul, half a cup of chopped nuts..." Would a sane man make jokes right now? He cleared his throat and continued, "Actually, this is a little useful." He frowned at he read over the strange words, "The problem is, things like our demon tend to have more appelations than they need. Most of this is its name. 'G'rxx'kal, the Ghost Who Eats From Within, Devourer From Within, Scourge of Life, Consumer of Souls, Scion of N'kai', and on and on." He smirked humorlessly, "This is why forbidden books are always so damn long, it takes forever to write the name of what you're talking about." He skimmed down that parchment, occationally muttering something ominous sounding before pausing and rereading more carefully, "Ah, here we go... banishment... which is incomplete. Figures." He thought for a moment before contiuing, "Okay. We have a name and we have a partial spell. We just need the rest of the spell. And we need to know conditions and any possible reagents."

He folded up the parchment, a little concerned about their quarry being 'the Scion of N'kai'. Tsathoggua dwelled in N'kai, and he feared that he was hunting his patron's spawn. Then again, that might explain the dreams. He glanced at the priest, "Sui, do you have any idea on where the stranger came from? Or at least how to get to that area? I think that may be our desination."

"Well," Sui replied, "The stranger did have iron tools - as I said, you don't get iron deposits in the lowlands. The closest iron ore deposits are right here on the plateau."

He rummaged around in the pockets of his jacket, extracting the battered notebook, and flicked through it until a map, heavily creased, fell out.

Sui unfolded it, and the thing came apart along a fold; he put the two parts together as best he could.

"This is the geology of the region," he said. "You see, here's the village, which is on an alluvial plain - it's gravel and mud, essentially. This is the plateau - granite and whatnot, but there's some iron ore intrusions here in the central rise. We are about here."

"Here" was not far from the Western edge of the plateau.

"But I couldn't tell you if there's anything there at all - and even if there was, finding a lost city or something hidden under all that jungle is not going to be easy."

Listening transfixed to the story, Tara looked between the two men as the tale came to an end. She had always enjoyed listening to folklore, but had usually taken them with a touch of scepticism. She knew that all these tales had a hint of truth, but they were normally exaggerated out of proportion, and yet there was something about their circumstances and the happenings around them that led her believe this one might be closer to reality than she would normally have accepted.

She remained silent as Moran and Sui continued to discuss the possible location of the origin of the ‘thing’ involved. Suddenly a shiver rushed over her body, causing her to turn towards the remains of her father. She stared at it, wondering if he too had been cursed with the spirit of the ghost.

Looking back at her companions, she frowned, fear slowly creeping into her. She silent berated herself for bringing them here. “I know this is going to sound silly, but is there a chance that my father could have had this thing in him…and that it might be seeking another host?” A second shiver raced over her body. If she was a religious person, she might have even said a prayer.

Enuti had missed Tara’s questions, still stunned by the knowledge that Moran could read such an ancient tongue. In fact, it bowled him over long enough that Tara wandered off to do something.

The firewood collecting was well in hand, it appeared, as well, the gatherers following his example of spreading out the wood to dry it by the fire. So after a bit, he moved to his things and pulled out the teeth of the panthers from the day before. With them, he pulled out a small multitool, and began to carve the teeth that were nearly as hard as stone, his first step being to file holes through them.

As the next load of firewood began to drift in, he motioned for them to stop, one at a time, as each person came back loaded up completely. This was just in time for everyone to hear Professor Moran speak once more. Enuti tuned into the discussion, once more, listening carefully, for much of it he would most likely have to repeat it to his fellows, for their understanding would be limited.

And what he heard horrified him. Softly, he spoke into a brief silence. “There is a similar story in my village, that takes place in a village that has been empty for many turnings of seasons, that was located further up the river. A stranger came among them with special skills and tools, and made them all very happy, for a time. People from all over the river came to trade and learn with the village, until one day the stranger died.”

Enuti’s face grew gray with fear and memory of what they had seen the day before. “They say he slashed his wrists, and opened his stomach with a sacrifice knife and babbled strange words while the people watched his life seep into the mud, too afraid to approach him. Some time went by, and promising young man killed himself in the same way. And then the young man’s promised woman did it. An Ibbari was called for from a village down the river. He stopped at our village on the way there.”

He blew out a heavy sigh. “No one knows what happened after that. After a full moon had passed, and more, perhaps six weeks if I understand the old tales correctly, when nothing more had been heard, four men from our village went to find out what had happened, accompanied by two men from the village of the Ibbari, who had become worried. When they returned, they reported that the jungle was reclaiming the burnt out husks that were all that remained of the village. Charred skeletons had littered the ground, accompanied by graves not yet filled in, with bodies in them.” He looked at each member of the expedition, his eyes darkened with fear.

Moran shrugged, "I can't say. Logan's parchment suggests that its a unique entity. Sui and Enuti's stories could lead one to believe its a race. Either way, we need to find these sites." He glanced at Tara, "But first..."

He pulled a small grease pencil from his backpack and kneeled over Craven's body, gently pulling his shirt open and murmuring softly under his breath in a strange, inhuman language. As he murmured, he drew a strange design on Craven's chest. It looked like a five pointed star with a flaming eye in its center; he also wrote in a strange script around the perimeter of the symbol. As he finished drawing he closed his eyes and placed his hand over the center of the symbol, concentrating deeply.

There was a strange change in the air in the cave; it grew thinner as if it was being used elsewhere. The sensation was difficult to explain, and almost as soon as it could be detected, it was gone. The design on Craven's chest had changed in that brief instant. It had gone from a thick-lined drawing, to a thin, almost delicate tattoo. Moran stood, looking a little weaker, but not as bad as he'd looked the last time Tara had seen him working forces he should probably leave alone.

Motioning Enuti and Logan over, he placed the body of the late Professor Craven on the pyre. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, still looking a little pale before he started to speak,

"Acintya bhedabheda tattva. 'The inconceivable simultaneous difference and non-difference of reality'. Professor Craven, Daniel, was more than just my associate; I'd like to have considered him a friend and a source of friendly competition.

"For years we only knew each other by reputation. We were the 'crazy bastards' who'd go into the middle of nowhere to find god-knows what. We were the idiots who tried to understand the unknowable. We were not only prepared to gaze into the Abyss, but we were ready to poke out the eyes of anything that dared to gaze back. We knew the risks and we didn't give a damn. We were obsessed, and we demanded that the universe give up its deepest held secrets.

"And we got some of those secrets. Daniel and I dragged more information and knowledge back from the depths than anyone else in our -- admittedly limited -- field. The universe, in its own difficult way, also gave us even more questions. And, of course, we plunged right back in to wrest some more secrets out.

"We didn't actually meet until one night, years ago, in the middle of some god-forsaken mound, in the middle of some god-forsaken deseret, in the middle of some god-forsaken country. We were both half out of our minds at the time. Something had... eliminated our parties. It was something out of a twisted comedy: two Anthroarchaeologists, running for their lives in a maze-like underground complex, only to run head-on into each other and knock themselves out cold.

"By the time we woke up, we'd also managed to calm down a little. Between the two of us, we managed to get out of there. Three months later we went back, together, and learned that there was no evil demon, just very human cultists. Still, the artifacts we recovered are still in Chiba City University's archives.

"After that, we always kept in touch, especially after one of us would notice a book being released in the fiction department under certain psuedonyms. We never got around to doing another joint trip, even though we often talked about it."

Moran paused, resting his hand on the pyre briefly, before glancing at Tara, "I'd have to say he'd be equal parts horrified and overjoyed at your choice of profession, Tara. Even as awful as the days could be, he loved it dearly. It was his life. He'd be thrilled that you decided to seek the universe's secrets. He'd also wish you'd get a nice, safe, boring day job." He grinned wryly, "He'd also probably have some choice, good natured, things to say about me too."

He gently touched the Professor's arm, "Godspeed, Daniel. Enjoy your rest, you've earned it. Acintya bhedabheda tattva."

The young man had never been this close to a dead body before, excluding the charred remains of his former bodyguard, Brick. He was hypnotized by the corpse, his eyes drawn to the pale, waxy skin. He barely heard the words that Moran spoke, his thoughts floating away to memories of his own father, lost these many years. He looked over to Tara, trying to imagine what she was going through. At least this would bring some closure to her, finally knowing what happened to her father. Logan wasn't so lucky.

When Moran finished speaking, Logan closed his eyes and his thoughts, suddenly, were not his own. The words that came into his mind were in a language he had never heard before, but seemed to understand intimately. A message was sent, from himself to the late Prof. Craven, a simple sentence...no, it was a song... to aid the soul as it transitioned.

"By my blade, I will protect her, now and forever."

How he knew this escaped him, but he knew nonetheless. He felt as if someone else was within him, an entity that was strange, yet familiar, sharing his own tortured soul. He felt a flush of energy and strength, and a sense of greater purpose. His senses came alive in a way that he had never experienced, and images flew through his mind...jungles and demons, violence and friendship, love lost and love found. He was confused, but contented. He was more than he had been.

Without conciously realizing it, he began to sing aloud, a deep, lilting tune with somber overtones, the words in a tongue alien to himself, and to those around him. It was a song filled with deep sadness but tinged with hope. He continued as if in a trance, and slowly brought the song to an end. He stood, eyes open but not seeing, tears streaming unabashedly down his face.

***********************************************

Deep within Tara's bag, the cloth-covered Daru glowed brightly, pulsing as if imitating a heartbeat. The blade would be needed soon, and the soul that had resided in it was now ready. Tepak's vow would be kept.

The pyre really wasn’t a pyre as such yet, when Enuti helped Moran transfer the body, shivering in slight dread of the symbols that seemed to burn into Craven’s flesh. The other natives had merely backed away, afraid to come any closer for the moment.

The weather was certainly odd here on the plateau as well, for though it seemed the sun had just risen, it already appeared to be setting, drifting lower and cooling the steaming jungle. Onto the bed of logs Craven’s body was placed, and then, as Moran spoke, Beneli and Janr eventually crept forward and helped Enuti stack the wood in the manner of their tribe. Inward leaning wood began to reach above Craven’s prone body, which he assumed the Professor had already carefully searched, and removed anything of value. Soon, the wood pile stood as high as Enuti’s forehead, with only Craven’s head exposed.

One’s head is the first part of the body into the world, and so, in the tradition of the tribe, it was the first out of it. Then very carefully, he stood, and motioned to Janr to continue with what he knew to do. The younger native began to sprinkle incense onto the wood.

Enuti turned and addressed everyone, translating his words so all would understand. “Those of us who are not foreign to this place never knew Professor Daniel Craven, and for that, we are not as fortunate as those who did. I can say this with surety, for the quality of a man can be judged by the company he keeps, and if those who came seeking him are any indication, that company was of high quality indeed.”

The native began to walk slowly around the pile of wood that held the body of the man about which he spoke. “An adventurer, a scientist, an explorer.” His gaze met Tara’s. “A father.” Moran’s. “A friend.” Logan’s. “An inspiration. Even those his life only briefly touched have nothing but fond memories for him.” His gaze swept across the Priest’s face. “Many things to many people. A positive change on the lives of those around him. There is no higher achievement than that in one’s life.”

He took a knife from Janr, a large, ceremonial type knife, and bent back down as he reached Craven’s head. “Continue your journeys, Professor.” The knife flickered, and Enuti laid a lock of his hair on Craven’s chest. “Daniel Craven, the jungle knows its own.”

The knife passed to each native in turn, silently, each of them kneeling, cutting their black hair, and placing it on Craven’s body inside the pyre. Each repeated, in their own tongue, Enuti’s final words. Latcho swokn tafilk. The jungle knows its own.

Enuti took the knife back, as each of the natives slowly acquired torches, most more than one. Darkness was falling unnaturally fast. The guide presented the knife to Tara. “The jungle knows its own, Miss Craven.” Torches were making their way to the other party members now, until everyone but Tara held one, Enuti taking his from Beneli as he stepped back to give her space.

Sui, for his part, listened to Moran's speech with growing unease.

If you stare into the abyss, it's your own damn fault when the Things therein start munching on your ka. Can I bless the soul of a man who meddled in the First World without Temple sacrament? Can I knowingly help Moran, who does the same?

On the other hand, not helping him is likely to kill us all very quickly indeed. The gods understand pragmatism very well.

But still, Sui was uneasy as Enuti conducted his heathen ritual; it had been hard enough to get the villagers to accept the proper rites as decreed by the Temple in Kuitao without them being perpetrated here, in the darkest recesses of the Second World.

The jungle may know it's own, Daniel Craven, but I fear the Jade Flute Players do also. Good luck.

As the others began to arrange for the cremation, Tara stood by watching from a distance, the whole experience being taken as a mere spectator rather than someone so closely involved. She wanted to help, to do something to aid the others in the task, but as brave as she was trying to be, drawing close to the end, she was finding it harder and harder. So instead of helping to build the pyre and arrange her father’s body for its final journey, she stood back and stared blindly at proceedings.

How long it had taken, Tara could not say, for her thoughts mixed events taking place in the cave with memories from across her lifetime. Precious moments spent with the man she was about to say a final farewell to. Her eyes began to prickle, the sign of impending tears. Swallowing hard, she fought their arrival, not wanting to appear weak.

Finally the funeral pyre was completed, and Enuti had arranged the body in the custom of his village. Her eyes remained on the body, the look that had etched itself on Professor Craven’s face was a horrid mask worn over the features of the man who had made her laugh, who had comforted her when she cried, had told her the stories that had shaped her life.

As Moran began to speak, she listened, nodding her head as he detailed his relationship with her father. She smiled at the stories he told, and laughed lightly as she recalled her father’s reaction when she had told him she was going to follow in his footsteps. He had warned her that the path was not a happy one, but sometimes the end justified the hardships that had to be endured to reach the goal. She hoped that he was looking down on them, smiling at his send off.

Once the Professor had finished she gave him a smile then watch as the natives performed their ceremony, each placing a lock of their hair on the body. Accepting the knife from Enuti, she walked closer to the pyre, the flickering flames of the torches dancing over the body. She grasped a few strands, and cut next to the scalp as she had seen the other do. Carefully she placed the hair with the others’ and turned, handing the knife back, giving Enuti a smile as she did.

Then she moved over to Janr, who was holding two torches, and took the one that he offered. Looking between her companions, she gave each of them a smile. “My father would be most honoured at your words Professor, and the kindness of the rest of you. I hope that he has now found the peace he deserves.” She turned towards the pyre, and touched the torch against some kindling, the flames catching immediately. Lighting a few more areas, she thrust the torch into the body of the pyre, and stepped back, giving her companions some space.

Watching the orange glow grow around ahead of her, she felt the tears begin to well and then fall from her eyes. She did not bother to try to stem them, instead she let them flow freely as she said her last goodbye.

The flames began to reach up, licking the darkness above, sparks floating serenely upward over the crackling pyre, adding to the stars beginning to glow in the blackening sky.

Enuti’s black eyes gleamed as he looked into the fire, and he raised his torch high, and then, muttering soft words, too soft to make out. The flames grew, expanding, consuming all in their path. Craven was no longer visible as his body vanished into the burning glow, a consuming, cleansing fire.

One by one, each of the natives plunged his torch into the blaze. Latcho swokn tafilk. Then kneeling, led by Enuti, they began to chant, reverting completely away from any external religious training.

Completely absorbed into their native beliefs, they commended the soul of a man to that which waited beyond.

Staring at the pyre, as its flames grew, Tara watched her father’s body disappear behind a curtain of orange. She let her eyes follow the illuminated wisps of smoke up into the sky, flickers of light mingled as embers were cast into the air. The cracking of the word as it was slowly consumed fill the silence. The tears rolled down her cheeks, as she said a few silent words to the man she loved so dearly. Despite herself, she could not keep her bitterness out of her thoughts, an anger at him for choosing to leave her mother and herself in the quest for glory.

Suddenly she turned, unable to watch anymore. She returned to the cave, not looking back over her shoulder. The words of the priest, Moran and Enuti rushing through her brain, mingling so only odd sentences could be made out from each of their stories, each the same, and yet different. This place, this thing was a death bringer, and she had led the group here in the name of her father.

What have I done? She looked out of the cave entrance, the fiery pyre glowing bright outside, no more than a huge fire, its purpose no longer obvious. She could still imagine the body of her father lying in the flames. What have you done? The tears sprang once more from her eyes, this time not for her father, but for the fate of those watching him burn.

Moran was watching the pyre when he noticed Tara walking back to the cave. He sighed softly and followed her inside, gently touching her shoulder, "We're here for you, Tara... I'm here for you..." He frowned a little, his lack of social skills starting to show, but managed to continue, "We'll find what did this and finish your father's work... I promise you."

Looking up as Moran entered the cave, Tara managed to smile despite her tears. “I know you are, and I appreciate it.” She felt oddly comforted by his words, not that she had not heard them many times, but because she trusted the man who uttered them to keep his word. He had saved her before, and if there was anyone in this group that could save them, it was him.

If she was honest with herself, she could not think of a better group she would rather be caught in this situation with, each of them had their talents, and together they would find the way. “And I know that if there is a way to end this, we will find it.”

She felt the smile disappear from her lips, as sadness engulfed her. “Do you think I was mad, bringing us out here, Professor?” She frowned as she asked her question, her eyes fixed to his as if trying to read his emotions. “I wonder if it would have been better to leave his whereabouts unknown and stayed safely back home. We don’t know what is out here…and I’m afraid.” The last words were barely above a whisper. “Afraid that I might have killed us all.”

Moran, oddly enough, smiled at Tara, shaking his head a little, before surprizing himself and giving her a hug. He looked at her after a moment, still smiling a little, "Don't you worry about that. Like I said earlier, we all know the risks when we come out here. Hell, even if there weren't nasty-beasts from beyond reality, there's plenty of mundane stuff that's dangerous. The natives know the dangers of this jungle, you and I were fully aware of the risks." He lowered his voice, "Logan... well, hard to tell with him, but I'm sure he's figured it out by now."

He smiled at her, his concern for her evident in his eyes, "Don't fool yourself, Tara. You and I both know you couldn't have stayed home and left his whereabouts unknown. This sort of thing's in your blood, and you wouldn't be happy until you knew what happened to him." Lowering his voice again, he nerviously added, "And I'm glad you asked for my help. For... more than a couple reasons..."

Tara sighed loudly then laughed. “You are right, I wouldn’t have been able to stay at home. Sometimes I wish he had been a bank manager or a professor that like to stay indoors.” She shook her head, and smiled. “But then, I am like him, and I couldn’t stay in one place, and I know that in his place, I would have done the same thing…have done the same thing. I feel sorry for my mother, being blessed with us two.”

She lowered her eyes from Moran’s for a moment, watching her fingers weave and interweave. “I wouldn’t have been able to ask anyone else to help, even if there was someone better qualified than you.” She let out an embarrassed laugh before raising her gaze to meet his again.

“I like you professor…” Another little laugh. “More than like. There are some things in my life that I would change, that I would go back and do again. But there is nothing I would change about this trip…well, there are some things that I would have liked to come about in a different way, but all in all, I wouldn’t change…” She began to feel her cheeks growing hot at the memory, and cleared her throat, stopping her rambling. “Thank you for being here for me.”

Moran laughed a little, "Your mother's a saint, I swear. She put up with your father and his wanderlust, and she was even nice to me when I encouraged him. That's a pretty rare thing when you think about it." He briefly raised his left hand, devoid of ring, "rare thing indeed." Tara was probably well aware of the fact that Moran had once been married, many years ago, but his wife had expected him to settle down and be a professor. She had never gotten used to him going off on trips like this, and he'd never gotten used to the concept of marriage.

As the conversation shifted towards 'earlier events', Moran looked mildly uncomfortable, if for no other reason than not having a clue how to proceed. He'd sorely mucked things up when he tried dodge talking about it, and while he didn't think now was a proper time -- it was more than a little creepy to talk about with her father's pyre right outside -- he didn't want to upset her again. He glanced away from her for a moment, before saying softly, "I... wouldn't change things either. Perhaps the location and what... ah... happened afterwards, but..." He cleared his throat nervously, his voice largely just trailing off as if he'd used up his alotted words for the day.

Enuti stared into the cathartic flames for a long time, feeling the fire cleansing his body, his mind, his soul. Fires did that, burning away the chaff, the worthless parts, the parts that strangled and constricted, leaving only the strongest bits.

Leaving them clear to grow and flourish. Orange burned deep in his ebony eyes, boring into him. He, and all he knew, were murderers. It was through no fault of their own, but they were.

They did not speak warred in his head with They did scream. His eyes shut firmly, but he could still see the flames. Twisting, burning, consuming flesh and clothing, steam rising as the bodies were boiled. The human body is more than three quarters water.

Boiled alive. Burned alive.

He had to tell them, or they were all doomed.

Enuti shook his head, clearing the cobwebs of horror and bringing himself back to the now. He noticed Tara and Moran has slipped off into the cave again while everyone was concentrating on the flames, and he figured this would be an opportunity to speak about what they would do in the morning.

He could not hear the words as he approached, and he suddenly realized from their expressions he might not want to interrupt. But the concentration on them had a price, and his normally silent footfalls slapped against bare rock, creating a soft noise just after Moran had spoken. Seeing he had unfortunately gained their attention, he decided to go ahead with it. "Professor, Miss Craven. I realize we're going to go, well, somewhere, to hunt this thing down, but what path are we going to follow?" He squatted down in the dirt and started drawing with his finger, the light from the pyre outside showing it to be a map.

It showed the river curling around in an acute angle tracing out a path beside a series of round lumps recognizable as hills. He explained those things anyways, in case the explorers did not follow. "We have a choice. From what Janr has told me, the river continues up a ways through these hills and then curls back down along the other side of them. We can follow the river, which will take about three days, or I believe we can cross over the hills in a day's travel. Along the river will be the easier path, but the hills will be much quicker."

Tara looked at Moran and smiled, as she wondered how he ever managed to teach a class of pupils for a year. Yet it was his down to earth qualities that made him a good teacher, not to mention everyone loved an eccentric professor, especially one that you could trust the words of. She looked at him for a moment, wondering if she actually knew what he was trying to say, without jumping to some wild conclusion. She just nodded her head, and smiled, as the footfall of someone entering the cave drew her attention.

Flicking her gaze from Moran to the newly arrived Enuti, Tara sighed slightly, realising they were still no nearer getting past the awkwardness that hung over them from the fruit incident. She was barely listening to the beginning of the native’s speech, but slowly, as he continued her thoughts left her own problems and focused on that of the journey ahead.

“When you say easier, does that mean that we are less likely to run into something we would rather not run into?” She could still see the last forest dweller they had run into, and was not overly keen to repeat the experience, yet gaining two days on the trip did sound very tempting, even if it was a little harder going. “If the difficulties are merely terrain based, I would suggest the quick route, but that is merely my opinion, and based on no other reason than cutting time from our journey is not a bad thing.”

Enuti shrugged in answer, looking up at Tara and Moran. "I can assure there will be terrain based difficulties, but as to the fauna..." He shrugged again. "In the hills, there will be less warning of an attack, but the trees will be thinner. But if we walk along the river, there is a greater chance of encountering animals coming to drink."

He smiled. "Each poses its own risks. The jungle is far from safe, and I have not been here before, nor has anyone that I know who can tell us which way is easier. I doubt there will be any more danger to either route, though we could always put the river to our back if we were moving along it." He grinned. "Though it gaurds against nothing. Personally, I would go through the hills."

He had been stunned into silence by the sound of the voice coming from deep within him, and as if in a dream, Logan had watched from afar as someone else performed the traditional Song of Passing, using his own body to bring the solemn words to life. The song was bittersweet, and spoke of great passion and wisdom, of a life lived and a life of love. In the end, it was a simple goodbye for a complicated soul.

Strangely, Logan did not feel at all violated or threatened by what was happening to him, and in fact, he felt comforted by the other's presence. When the song had ended, the young man quickly regained full control of himself, the memory of the event fading swiftly in his mind.

Moving to where he had stowed his gear, he began to prepare himself for the trek ahead. He had no idea what the group had in mind, but at this point, it looked pretty bleak. This whole mission had taken a strange twist, one that Logan wasn't entirely prepared for. Black panthers and angry natives he could deal with, but evil demons from nether-dimensions exceeded the young man's capabilities.

He quickly finished packing, slinging his backpack over his broad shoulders, tightening the straps. He checked the quick-release on his holster, and then tilted his bush-hat back, brushing the hair from his dark eyes. Logan smiled at himself, enjoying the fact that at this very moment in his life, everything felt like it was going to turn out alright. He wasn't sure why...it just did. For the first time since this mission had started, he didn't feel so alone and isolated anymore.

Catching the Professors eye, he indicated he was going outside the cave. Stepping into the heavy, humid air, Logan lit one of his last cheroots, savoring the taste.

In the light of the flames, Janr and Beneli watched Logan emerge from the cave into the evening darkness and blinked, almost at the exact same time. And then had the exact same thought. Where is he going?

Finally, they get over their shock enough to speak rapidly in Logan's direction, asking the same question. Unfortunately, they do not speak English, and begin shouting when there is no response, growing louder and louder, the way one does when one suspects that the individual one is talking to is not paying any attention to what is being said.

Finally, Enuti, explaining to Tara and Moran in the cave, has his concentration interrupted by the growing noise, and rounds angrily to tell Janr and Beneli to be quiet when he notices Logan. "Uh, Logan, where are you going? I would rather prefer you stayed in the cave until we leave in the morning."

Moran looked as if he had been violently ripped out a a deep revere, his head jerking around to look at Enuti. He wasn't paranoid, per se, but he seemed to have a disturbing habit of fading out. He usually 'came back' on his own, but when snapped back early he was sometimes a little lost. He quickly recovered, nodding in agreement to Enuti, "Yes, the hills seem like a good plan to me. We should be fine as long as we're alert and careful." He chuckled softly at the irony. Not only of him having just come back from somewhere but of Logan wandering around in a daze. He smiled, "Either way, I'd say at least a couple of us need a good night's sleep. Otherwise we'll be walking into trees."

He smiled a little at Tara for no particular reason. Part of him was happy that they had dodged a potentially unpleasant conversation, but he knew that they had to have it eventually. Granted, there was something to be said for doing so in private, but it'd likely grow more difficult as time went on.

The blank look on his face echoed the confusion he now felt. Logan had simply wanted to step outside to smoke, so as not to disturb others with the bitter smell of his cigar. He indicated as such to Enuti, stating that he intended to stay by the cave opening. Then he turned and continued outside.

Distracted momentarily as Enuti spoke to Logan, Tara returned Moran’s smile, feeling both relieved and annoyed that they had been stopped from having the conversation that would have followed. She turned her gave to Logan, and watched for a moment as he made his way outside, standing near the cave entrance. She could not help but notice the change in the younger man, he seemed more…calm. So different from the man she had met at the university and had spoken to on the boat.

I’m not surprised we are all changed what with the things we’ve seen. And things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.

Shaking her head at herself she refocused her attention on the two men before her. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I could do with catching some sleep.” She smiled wearily, suddenly feeling the last remnants of her energy leaving her. It had been a long couple of days, and she knew she needed to rest if she was going to be able to complete the trek, especially if they were going to take the harder path. “If you could wake me in a couple of hours…” She looked at the two expectantly then rose to her feet.

Moving quickly, or as quick as her rapidly tiring body could carry her, Tara reached her belongings, and practically collapsed onto the floor. She made herself comfortable, pulling a light cover over her body, and resting her head on some clothing. She watched the flickering light of the fire dance across the walls, strange creatures moving in the darkness. A shiver rushed over her body, causing her to pull the blanket tightly around her body. Closing her eyes, she drifted into sleep, the ghosts of the past keeping her company.

Enuti frowned slightly at Logan's comment, and stared pointedly at the pack on the young man's back, then shrugged. He nodded a polite goodnight to Miss Craven, and then to each member of the expedition as they went to bed for the night.

It had indeed been a trying day.

Night time crept toward daylight slowly, the sounds of the jungle strangely muted during each watch. Enuti ran the first, and Janr the second, with Beneli taking the third.

Ignoring Tara's instructions before she went to sleep, Enuti did not wake her, nor did Janr or Beneli. They each instead followed Enuti's lead. None of the expedition members were woken during the night. It would be rough travel through the hills.

They would need the most rest.

When dawn broken, it broke red. Deep red, the color of blood, spreading like a blanket over the jungle.

The chill of the air was belied by the warmth of the sky, and sent shivers through Enuti at the sight. It was not a good sign.

Sleep was a fickle bitch at times, and it all too rarely was willing to grace Moran with her presence. Once again, he found himself staring at the walls of the cave after only about four hours. He'd grown used to it over the years, and it was certainly better than the nightmares that occationally haunted what little sleep he managed.

He was also quietly glad that his patron hadn't invaded his dreams as well. While a nocturnal visitation by Saint Toad would be a good sign, and often resulted in valuable information, the dreams -- visions? -- were always highly disturbing and draining, usually making him feel worse after he woke up.

Moran often wondered if aligning himself with Tsathoggua had been a wise plan. It was about twenty years ago, when he was a fresh and young explorer, and had certainly seemed to be wise. He'd found an ancient temple in some God-forsaken foothill in the Hack. Inside was a half-insane priest. The priest's mad ramblings had a hint of wisdom in them, and Moran had felt compelled. He'd read of the dark things that lusted for this reality, and he'd figured that, while unspeably horrible, Tsathoggua was rather benign as dark gods were concerned. It seemed to be more interested in being left alone, and required very little form its worshippers in exchange for certain levels of protection and power. He no longer had to fear posession, for one. He was also stronger and more resistant to the mind shattering horrors he frequently ran into. Still, there was a steep price for this power, and the Sleeper's intrusion on his dreams was just one manifestation of this price.

He glanced over at Tara, asleep on the cold stone floor. He sighed softly, wondering for the hundredth time what he was going to do about her. He cared deeply for her, and had cared about her even before the now-infamous 'Fruit Incident'. He wasn't necessarily complaining about what had happened, he wasn't a eunich, but he feared that it would be a dark shadow hanging over a potential relationship.

And even if they did 'get past' that and formed a somewhat normal relationship, what then? He wasn't sure how comfortable he'd be with her joining him in various dangerous expeditions; while at the same time knowing she'd likely go on them even if they never spoke to each other again. Of course, if she was going to do such things, should she have the same protection he did? He didn't like the thought of her selling her soul to some monstrosity, but he wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy.

He smirked darkly; clearly this was a sign of something. Damned if he knew what. Instead of continuing the pointless logical spiral, he decided to get up. He could helpout whichever native was pulling watch.

And he could watch the sunrise, too.

The night had been long, and nightmares had filled every moment of sleep. Visions that she thought had been buried rose and poured their evil over her rest, threatening to pull her out of unconsciousness, but the dreams only led her so far, dragging her back when it seemed that waking was near. Her body tossed and turned, aching on the stone ground, but nothing would or could pull her from the torment.

Black shapes filled the space around her, hands reaching out trying to pull her in every direction, and none. Blackness followed, the light disappearing from a beacon, orange glow fading until nothing was left. A scream filled the air, unearthly in its ear splitting screech. Light began to fight through the wall of darkness, shapes once more appearing, or one at least. A deathly shadow of something she recognised and yet could not place.

Why are you here?”

Light flickered in the background, as the voice pushed itself through the silence. The crackling of wood, echoed behind, growing in strength. Pulling sharply, hands released, thrusting her forward. The blackness broke, and orange filled the cave, flames dancing against the walls. Silhouettes writhed in pleasure and agony. Her eyes were drawn to the images, her body shivering, a sweat breaking out over her skin, naked and vulnerable.

Voices sounded in the distance, familiar and growing louder. In front of her, a fire grew, the body on the top, her father sleeping. The bed, a pyre of flames, engulfing him, and then…movement. Drawing closer, the man becomes clearer. Not her father, but someone else, someone beckoning her closer, and closer. Unable to resist, she accepted the offered hand, climbing into the embrace.

Heat rose, the sounds of snakes filled the air, rattling their tails and hissing. The flickering flames kept the serpents at bay, but it could not quell the growing passion. Sparks flew, as union and the screams of pleasure merged with the painful wailing. Silhouetted against the licking flames, two lovers writhed.

Why have you come here?

Eyes stared out of the darkness, dead to the world, yet filled with a world of knowledge. An ear-piercing scream, as orange turned scarlet. The stickiness of sweat, flowing red over her body. Her hand reached out, her skin cold as air touched her nakedness. Shivers rushed over, as her fingers dripped with their life’s blood, scratching at the wall. A cry in the dark, as the shadow grew, covering her, stealing away the light.

You cannot win. You too will lie beneath my power.

“Tara!”

Moving feet that remained locked in place, the fire blazing. Around her the shadows began to grow, surrounding her, blocking her view. There stood flesh and blood, slowly covered by the darkness all around. A huge Shadow, emitting power, slowly engulfed the world. Light diminished, as darkness crept towards her…

Eyes flicked open, a deep intake of breath, and Tara once more faced the inside of the cave. This time the more familiar light of day filled the entrance, indicating the arrival of morning. Lying on the ground, she waited until she had calmed down, bringing her racing heartbeat back under control. She sat up slowly, her hand moving through her hair, pushing it out of her face.

She swallowed hard, suddenly realising how dry her mouth was. Reaching into her pack, she pulled her water bottle out and took the smallest sip she could while still refreshing her mouth. Placing it back in her bag, she looked around the cave, suddenly noticing that daylight rather than night was revealed by the entrance. Pulling herself off the ground, she moved over to where the others were sitting.

“I seem to have overslept.” She grinned at the Professor before rubbing her hands over her eyes, trying to waken herself properly, as she wondered why no one had woken her for her stint at watch.

Moran looked up from the campfire as Tara wandered over. He'd been up for quite some time and awake even longer. He had his tin cup of nasty coffee and was smoking one of his cigars. He only carried a few of them with him on any given expedition; clearly he felt today was an important day. He chuckled at Tara, giving her a friendly grin as he teased her, "Late again, Ms. Craven? Tsk tsk tsk. Gonna have to dock your grade."

He gestured to the fire where another tin cup was sitting near the fire; close enough to keep warm... ish. But far enough so that you could pick it up without burning your fingers. "As punishment, you get the cup of old nasty coffee, as opposed to the fresh stuff everyone else got."

Tara laughed, feeling more relaxed than she had in days. She looked over at the cup before bending down and picking up her coffee. Taking a little sip, she grimaced as the semi-cold, foul tasting liquid entered her mouth. “If this had been the punishment for being late for class, Professor, I think you would have seen me on time a lot more.” She grinned, before taking another sip, the smile wiped quickly from her lips.

“I used to wonder if a person ever gets used to this stuff.” She looked at Moran and smiled. “After watching you drink it, I’m assuming not.” Cupping her hands around the tin cup, she gazed over at the cave entrance. “It’s looking better outside. I guess we’ll be off soon. If I stay here much longer, I swear I’ll get cave fever.” She placed the cup on the ground then stretched, trying to instil some life into her still waking body.

Moran laughed, "Well, if you can find an outlet for a coffee maker to brew a real pot, go right ahead." He finished off the last of his coffee with a grimace and put the cup back in his pack. He stood and arched his back, a soft cracking sound following. He smiled, looking a little relieved now that he'd loosened up, "We'll be all set once you eat something, Tara."

“I’ll eat on foot. I don’t want to hold the party up any longer.” Tara had often grabbed something to eat while rushing to a class. It had almost become a trademark to see her with some food or other in her hand as she dashed along the corridors of the university. Sometimes she wondered how she had ever managed to graduate. Yet despite all her lateness, she never actually missed a class, just turned up at them slightly out of breath and more dishevelled than she would have liked.

Taking another sip of the coffee, and giving it up as a bad job, she tossed the contents onto the ground, wishing she could find a power outlet. She looked at the others, who all seemed to be in varying states of readiness. “I’ll just grab my things and I’ll be ready.” As she walked back to her belongings, she smiled slightly, wondering how long the normalness with Moran would last.

Just don’t eat any more fruit on the journey, and everything should be fine. She sighed heavily, pushing the thought to the back of her mind, not wanting that memory to spoil the day.

It was not long before they were once more moving out, despite Tara’s sleeping late. Everyone else had been ready to move out when she woke, and all were waiting on her, grinning as she prepared to leave.

But eventually, they moved out. The sun had been up for a little over an hour as they set off uphill. It was fairly easy going at first, especially as the trees began to clear out. At the summit, Enuti ordered a brief rest to look off into the distance, and he pulled out a wrinkled copy of the map Craven had left with the Holy Man.

Conferring with Janr and Beneli, along with Uncle, he nodded slowly. “Three days once we’re out of the hills. I think it may take another day to get out of the hills, though. The way ahead looks more difficult than I counted on.” It was a generic announcement, loud enough for everyone to hear, and said in such a way as to brook no arguments.

After another minute, they moved on.

Miles of hills, followed by more miles of hills, up and down the hills, but mostly up until lunch time. Then there was a lot of down. Way down. Enuti was not sure, but he was fairly certain they were below the average altitude of the main portion of the plateau, in what appeared to be a dry river bed. It made walking easier for a while, but then they came to the difficulty.

A sheer cliff face. Enuti looked back at the group of people and frowned slightly. “Well, uh, this appears to be a problem,” he announced as the group drew up close. Looking more closely, he concluded Moran and Logan could probably climb easily, Beneli and Janr less surely, along with himself and the three locals, with Uncle having the hardest time, but Sui and Tara he reasoned would have a very difficult time.

It was only about fifty feet up, though, and extended off into the distance in either direction. The only quick way up was over, it appeared. He glanced at the sun, which was inching towards the horizon. “I don’t want to camp here in the river bed. We’ll be better off up top.”

The trek seemed to be never ending, and the heat was unbearable, and her feet hurt, other than that Tara was having a good day. She kept to her usual spot near the back of the group, letting the other up front dictate their pace and direction. She had complete faith in the natives getting them to their destination and in Moran to keep them safe, she had witnessed his abilities first hand. She had not given Logan or the others a role, but she knew that she could not wish for a better group.

She walked, not sure for how long or even how far they had managed to walk, but to her if felt like quite a distance, which it most probably was. She rubbed her hand over her brow, brushing her hair from her face, which was sticking to her skin. During the trek, she spoke a little to Beneli, but somehow felt very distrusting of him following their previous conversation.

As they drew to a stop beside the cliff face, she looked up at the rock in front of them and groaned, a little louder than she had wanted. Enuti’s words did not fill her with much hope, as her gaze finally reached the top. She squinted into the sun filled sky before looking back at Enuti. “There is no other way round?” She did not want to sound like a defeatist, but climbing was not on her list of pastimes, even if she had tried her hand once or twice at university, just before she dumped the boy for persuading her to risk her life.

She was not unfit; she took a lot of care of her body and took regular exercise, despite her love for her bed, and her odd occasion of tardiness. Giving the path, or rather the climb ahead another look, she shrugged, realising she did not really have any choice. “I’m ready when you all are.” She hoped it was not as high as it looked from the ground.

Moran was in good spirits, the chase was the part he usually enjoyed the most. Not knowing what was lurking around them, or waiting for them when they arrived. Often the anticipation was better than actually reaching the goal. And when the goal overshadowed the anticipation, it was usually a bad thing. Especially when one considered what Moran's mind could come up with as Bad Situations.

The cliff face was unexpected.

He stepped up to it, inspecting the roughness of the rock and the likelyhood of good hand- and footholds. He turned and looked over the group, his assessments roughly the same as Enuti's unspoken concerns. "Well, I'm pretty sure I can scale this..." He frowned slightly, "What do we have by way of rope? A couple of us could climb up and use it to help out." He looked older than he was, and was in much better shape than his age or looks would imply, one of St. Toad's gifts, but he was pretty damn sure that he wasn't up to carrying anyone up on his back. And even if he was, he didn't want to play out his hand too much. Obvious shows of supernatural ability had a tendance to worry people, even if he was largely benevolent.

He looked back at the cliff, thinking some more, "If we don't have this much rope, we'll just have to be careful. This doesn't look too tough to climb, provided we take our time."

Repunzel, Repunzel, let down your hair.

Tara smiled as the words entered her head. She still stood, staring up at the summit of the rock face, her brow creased with concentration. “Rope would be good, Professor, but I would give anything to find an elevator.” Grinning, she ran her hands over the surface, feeling its roughness. Bringing her gaze down, she noticed several indents that could make useful hand or foot holds scattered up the rock.

“Are we going up in any particular order?” She oddly did not want to go first, but she also did not feel brave enough to go last. “If possible I would prefer to follow a few people up.” That way they can hold my weight when I fall. She brushed the thought away as she finished surveying the task ahead.

Delving into her bag, she rummaged around briefly, before pulling out a pale blue band, which she expertly used to pull her hair back into a ponytail, not wanting a stray strand of hair to lead to her downfall…literally.

Enuti nodded slowly, then, speaking rapidly, quizzed the local natives on their rock climbing abilities. He frowned slightly when he got blank looks back from them, but shrugged and then turned to Beneli and Janr to give them instructions.

Fortunately, having been his friends for a long time, they were already doing it. They had one proper harness, but no pitons, nor any other real sort of climbing gear, besides having the rope. Lots of it, as any good explorer knew you needed on a journey into the dark unknowns.

After it, rope was so useful. You could climb with it, make traps from it, kill things with it, make all sorts of non-lethal weapons with it, burn it to start fires, use it to bind injuries. All manner of things. The harness was useful in a similar manner, the only reason it had been brought. Some of them, of course, it would not fit as well as others, especially the larger, muscular Logan, it would be particularly tight on.

Which was they had it. About five hundred feet worth of thin climbing cord, with a five hundred pound tensile strength and a give of one inch per hundred feet. Good stuff. Very good stuff.

“We’ll go one at a time,” Enuti announced, repeating the instruction in the native tongue. “Janr will go first, then Beneli. Logan next.” He continued to assume that the fit young man’s education had included climbing lessons. “Then we’ll send the packs up by the rope. Then everyone else will go. Strip off everything that could get caught on the rope or the rocks. Clothing only while you climb. I’ll go last and bring the rope with me.”

Soon, of course, it was only Enuti, Moran, and Tara standing at the bottom of the cliff as the light began to fade from the valley. Enuti was growing a little tired from belaying everyone, and had asked Janr and Beneli to begin top belaying, in case he gave out. Besides, he still had to climb the cliff, and he would need something left for that. “After you two,” he murmured, offering the climbing harness out in his hand, his other lightly holding the rope.

Tara grew restless as she waited at the bottom for the others to complete their climb, while at the same time she began to doubt her abilities. At first she thought it would not be as difficult as she first thought, especially as Beneli, Janr and Logan made it look so easy, but then as the others in the party began their ascent, she frowned as the reality of the situation came home to her. As she stood once more looking up at her soon to be goal, she sighed heavily.

I’ve face beasts, I’ve faced death…I’ll be damned if this climb is going to kill me.

Her resolve had once more grown strong by the time the harness was once more lowered, and her two remaining companions indicated that she was to go next. As she was strapped in and ready to go, she pulled on the rope, happy that it would hold her weight, being as she was possibly the lightest of the group. She smiled nervously, as she began the climb, her fingers seeking out hand and foot holds.

Just don’t look down.

She started off well; secretly glad that should she happen to miss a holding, she would not plummet to the ground. She would have to remember to thank Enuti once they were both safely at the top. As she made her way up the face, she grew a little more confident in the endeavour, and only managed to lose her grip a couple of times, but not drastically enough to fall away from the surface.

What seemed like a lifetime, and felt like one too, Tara finally drew level with the top of the plateau, grateful to feel the hands of Janr and Beneli pulling her up onto the flat ground. She moved a little way from the edge, and let the natives free her from the harness before lowering herself to the ground, taking a moment to catch her breath, grateful that that part of the journey was over and done with.

Her eyes focused on Beneli as he lowered the harness back to the bottom for Moran. Grabbing her bag that was nearby, she pulled out her flask and took a small sip. “Now I remember why I didn’t take that up at University,” she said to no one in particular, as she returned her water to her bag.

A tolerance of heights was not something the gods had gifted upon Sui (would it be theologically more correct to say that They had cursed him with an intolerance of heights? Gods were fickle things). Added to that, he was neither a skilled climber, particularly fit (although he had kept up, and felt secretly very proud of that), or as young as he used to be.

So he stared up at the cliff face with mounting trepidation as the time approached to take his own turn in the harness, muttering placations and entreaties to any gods who might be listening, while another part of his brain tried to note where the others were placing their hands and feet.

Enuti tightened the knots about him, and Sui set off. The first meter or two was easy enough, more a steep debris slope than any cliff. Then the hard part began, and he had to scrabble for handholds, trying desperately to recall where the others had gone. More than once someone else's bootprint saved him, marking out a hand- or foot- hold. Hardest of all was the fact that you had to keep going, to mantain momentum.

Halfway up the cliff, his hand cramped suddenly and he missed his handhold, slipping to one only a few inches further down - not far, but certainly far enough to stall him.

Sui clung to the rock like something washed up by the tide. When the initial wave of terror subsided, along with the desperate entreaties to the gods of the First and Second worlds alike, he began to consider his situation.

I can't stay here forever. Right. Got to reach that handhold.

But it was just out of reach above him, and if he slipped again - well, there were no convenient handholds below that, and the harness Enuti had rigged seemed liable to fall apart at any moment - surely that little rope couldn't hold the weight of a man?

But I've died once already, it's not fair to do it again! You hear me, Tenat?

The gods, of course, did not care about what was fair - but all the same, Sui lifted his hand and stretched out, fingers grappling on the ledge above. Caught it.

Oh, blessed sweet thing ...

Then it was up again, without stopping, until he heaved himself up over the cliff edge and lay gasping in the mast and dirt above.

"Oh Gods," he entreatied, "Let me never have to do that again."

Moran could tell that Enuti was growing tired, especially after the near disaster with Sui. Still, the younger native seemed to be in reasonably good condition, and since Moran intended to make things easy on him, he figured Enuti would be fine. He slipped into the harness, carefully checking the straps. He wasn't worried about slipping, but he also was smart enough to not take anything for granted.

The 'old professor' stepped up to the cliff, cracking his knuckles and gingerly grabbing a pair of obvious handholds, pulling slightly as if he was testing the wall. He took a pair of deep breaths and started climbing. He moved with almost shocking fluidity and speed. He looked like he was the type who went rock climbing every weekend. He kept his breathing steady as well as his pace, managing to find good handholds without difficulty.

He pulled himself up onto the top, brushing himself off and smiling at the assembled party, "Climbed a lot when I was younger..." He quickly removed the harness and sent it back down to Enuti, moving over to give Janr and Beneli a hand in case Enuti got too tired to make it up himself.

The darkness was settling in rapidly now as Enuti and Janr rearranged the ropes for an exclusively top belay. Once Enuti began to climb, though, the tiredness in his arms began to show obviously, especially to him.

By the time he was halfway up the cliff face, the burning in his arms felt like hellfire, but he pushed through it, knowing, just as the others did, that if he stopped, he would not make it. But his progress was still slowing. It remained to see whether he would stop first or the cliff face would end.

Ever upward he climbed, for what felt like an hour as the shadows grew longer, racing across the cliff as the sun began its final journey of the day. If one looked to the East, opposite the setting sun, the descending darkness could be seen racing across the land. Enuti continued higher, placing one hand, one foot above the other, concentrating on the handholds, the places for his feet, the boots he wore entirely inappropriate to this activity.

His fingers trembled as the curled around rock after rock, aching as they began to try and support his weight, his legs tiring now. He blew out his breath heavily, pushing the pain from his mind.

Higher and higher up the cliff he climbed, feeling the rocks moving past his body, as he grew more and more detached, his arms and legs moving as a separate person, growing distant from him.

Suddenly, though, he and his body were once more one as his fingers slipped fatally. Air rushed past him, the ground suddenly appearing much further away than it was, but rushing closer at a rate far too high to be healthy.

His neck snapped hard as his motion stopped, whiplash hitting him even after only a moment of falling. Now that he was looking down, Enuti could see how far he had gotten. He had almost been there before he slipped, and he felt the rope pulling on him now. He raised his head, and focusing on the rocks, fended them off to protect himself.

The rocks blurred out, fading from view for a moment, and then a dark shape thrust itself into his comprehension. It was another second before he realized what it was and stuck out his own arm to grasp Janr’s arm, letting him pull him up on top of the cliff.

Soon it was dark, and calm, and all slept under the stars.

* * * * *

When dawn came again, the entirety of the situation revealed itself at last. Their sleeping location was a mesa, in the strictest sense, but instead of the fifty feet up they had come, the way down was at least four times that high, and there was no other obvious way down.

Which meant they would have to use the ropes again. Of course, it was a simple matter to set up ropes used for climbing up for climbing down. Looking around, Enuti gave instructions on repelling down to everyone, to make sure it was clear.

“Keep your hand on the rope at all times. Keep your legs straight and your body away from the rocks. Don’t jump or swing out, it’s foolish and unsafe. Again, we’ll lower the packs down before we go down. Me and Beneli will go down first to support the rope at the bottom. After the packs, Logan, you come down and then Uncle, followed by the Ibbari. Then everyone else, with Janr coming last.” Then he showed them how to control their rate of descent with their hand, just pulling the rope through the loops taut being enough to bring them to a dead stop.

Once the ropes were set up, Enuti went over the edge, bouncing down in exactly the manner he had said not to go down in. Beneli followed him, in exactly the same way. Do as I say, not as I do rang strongly in Janr’s ears as he grinned happily.

This was, after all, fun.

Tara stood checking her pack, trying not to think about what they were about to do. It had been hard enough going up the rock face, and this drop was apparently four times as high. The only bonus that she could see was this time it was a descent, as long as she remembered not to look down everything would be fine.

It was not long before Beneli, Enuti and all their packs had disappeared over the side of the cliff. She stood a little forward, watching closely as Logan harnessed up ready to make his trip down. She gave him a smile and then walked over to Moran, trying to think of some way to occupy her mind. Standing there in silence, her gaze followed him to the edge, keeping her eyes on him for as long as he was in sight.

She turned to the Professor and smiled. “Going down seems a lot less trouble free than the upward journey.” A little laugh escaped. “I might even enjoy this.” She walked a little closer to where the others were standing, knowing that it was her turn next. Despite her bravado, she was pleased she was not going last this time.

In what appeared to be hours but was little more than a few minutes, Tara was standing in front of Janr, being helped into the harness, just had Logan and the others had been earlier. Pulling on the rope, she suddenly wondered whether it would hold her weight, once more feeling at ease as she remembered that it had already held three people heavier than her.

She looked at Janr and smiled, as he indicated what she should do next. She walked over to the edge, and carefully lowered herself over, giving the rope her trust, not that she had much choice. As she got over the initial shock of dangling so far up, she began to relax, and slowly lowered herself down, making sure not to catch anything in the rope that would bring her to a permanent stop.

It took a moment to get used to controlling her rate a couple of times she seemed to be going to fast and others far too slow. Getting into the rhythm, she smiled to herself singing a little ditty as she descended at a leisurely pace.

Enuti was looking up, focused on Tara descending, ready, to cut off the line if she were to start falling too quickly. Which is why he did not see them until Beneli said something. Loudly. Along the lines of ‘What’s that?”

But obviously, not in English.

Enuti spared him a glance, and then followed his finger to the black shadows creasing the mid-morning sky. Whatever they were, they were large, and very birdlike. But something gleamed strangely about them, like sunlight reflecting off of metal.

Deep inside, the primitive part of him quivered with fear, but he drew his attention back to Tara, who was still blithely descending down the cliff face, ignorant of the creatures.

Which, for the moment, was fine. Beneli continued watching the avians, though, and as they swept closer, he reached down and picked up his crossbow, nervously fingering the trigger.

It was another few moments before the intent of the birds was obvious, though. When the light flashed, it was clear the beaks and talons of the birds were gleaming far too shiny to be what one thought of as natural, in fact, extremely metallic.

The scream which announced the attack was blood curdling, freezing the humans in place. It became clear that the birds were much larger than any thing they had ever seen before, perhaps nine or ten feet across the wingtips. When they dove, Beneli shouted.

It was in the native tongue, but it was loud enough that the emotion it conveyed was clear. He jerked his crossbow into firing postion, and unleashed a bolt at the leader, diving towards Tara on the cliff face.

Again the scream as he missed and the bird wheeled in midair, changing its direction to dive towards the group on the ground. Two more followed it, but at least three more continued towards the young woman suspended on the cliff face. They did not seem to notice the group at the top of the cliff.

Enuti’s face paled as the gleaming metal of the birds’ natural weapons revealed what they could do to the ropes which were the only thing holding one of his friends alive, and the only way down the cliff for four more of the expedition.

As Beneli fired again at the incoming creatures, Enuti turned to him and snarled, “Stop firing upwards. You could hit the girl.”

The first that Tara was aware of the arrivals was the scream that filled the air. Doing her best not to lose concentration and send herself plummeting far too fast down the rock face, she tried to ignore what was going on, and focused her attention on the descent. But soon it was hard to forget that there was trouble around with the continued shouting from the ground.

Flicking her head around her, trying to see what was happening, she tightened the hold on the rope stopping her movement, leaving her hanging halfway up the cliff. She finally managed to catch sight of the creatures, and instantly wished she had remained oblivious.

“What the…?” She almost screamed as the first bird dived at her, knowing that she had no way of getting out of its way, frightened when she saw the sun glinting off of what appeared to be knifes rather than talons.

She swung around, trying to get a better view, feeling her move a little down the rope as she turned. Once more her descent ended as her hands tightened the rope, leaving her precariously balanced and unable to do anything. She knew that she could not descend quickly without killing herself.

Suddenly one of the creatures was upon her, she cried out as its talons racked across her flesh. She looped her arms around her head, trying to protect herself, but this caused her to once more loosen her hold on the rope, sending her sliding down the cliff, until she managed to grip harder, as another bird swooped.

Night and day had come and gone, all of it a blur of endless miles and dangerous climbing. His body had performed as necessary, as his mind wandered into strange, uncharted areas. Logan was sure that he was slowly losing his sanity, a concept that had seemed alien to him a short time ago. He was no longer alone in his body, of this he was sure. Who the other person was was the real question. The Song that had filled him during the funeral rites came from some other place and time, in a language that was unknown to Logan. He had watched from without himself, as his voice sang the melodious and somber words.

For now, he focussed on being a pack-horse, helping the guides with their duties and keeping a low profile with the rest of the group, not wanting to alert them to his internal struggles. Logan felt refreshed by the hard labor, his fit form being up to the many challenges it had faced during the day.

When the birds screams intruded on his thoughts, his hand reached instinctively for his heavy pistol. Drawing it, he looked up to see several winged-forms circling agressively over their heads. With an angry shriek, one of the larger birds broke away from the group and began to dive, straight towards where Tara hung, helpless against the cliff face. In an instant, the bird was upon her, raking her with its razor-sharp talons.

Untying himself from the lifeline, he scrambled towards the edge of the cliff on his belly, trying to line up a clear shot on the creature. There was no way he could fire now...the risk to Tara was too great. He pointed his pistol towards the sky and squeezed the trigger twice, hoping the loud noise would frighten the bird off. Two concussive explosions shattered the silence, echoing away off the mountains around them.

Moran's first thought was that they were being attacked by byakhees, until he saw the birds and mentally kicked himself: byakhees weren't native to Earth, and would only be here if someone summoned them. Birds were irritating, but far from the catastrophic problem summoned critters would be.

As he mulled over his options, he heard the loud reports from Logan's pistol, and frowned in dismay as the noise had little affect on the monsters. Fool things were probably at the top of their food chain, and were unlikely to be scared away. Shooting the one harrassing Tara was too risky, however, the circling ones were another story.

He drew out the overly large hand cannon he kept as his 'side arm', and took a wide stance to help with balance. Carefully holding the weapon in both hands, he aimed up at the circling birds, tracking them for a moment before gently squeezing the trigger.

The kick of the gun jostled Moran's shoulder, making him wish for a rifle or a more reasonable handgun. The 45 gram slug screaming through the air and slamming into one of the bird-things, making it shriek in pain as it fell towards the ground. He mentally kicked himself as it damn near clipped Tara.

He readied his next shot, noting darkly that he'd certainly attracked their attention.

The loud reports of the firing weapons certainly had the effect of distracting the creatures from the injured Tara, helpless on the cliff. Unfortunately, Moran’s gunfire attracted the creatures to the top of the cliff, and Logan’s fire attracted even more birds to the bottom of the cliff than Beneli’s crossbow shot had.

Beneli had wondered for the second he could spare to watch Logan crawling on his belly why the young man seemed to be so afraid, but then he realized that his low body position, tight against the rocks, would make it next to impossible for the large birds to get at him. Further, being under Tara made it unlikely that stray rounds would hit her. Beneli joined him, and took careful aim with the crossbow, watching the one diving towards Enuti, unable to move to defend himself as he held the rope supporting Tara suspended on the cliff.

Blood was roaring in Beneli’s ears now, having avoided the first swooping attack, adrenaline pumped through his veins. As the bird continued downward, he rasped to Logan in what English he knew “On three.” He entered the zone, then…

“One… two… three…” He fired, and having fallen into the rhythm now, was unsure if he heard Logan’s shot or not. One or both of them had brought down the bird, though, and it slammed into the pile of packs and equipment behind Enuti.

The impact shook Enuti’s concentration slightly, distracting him from Tara on the cliff and alerting him to their own danger, his gaze dropped to Logan and Beneli. Unfortunately, Janr was the one Enuti had taught to use his rifle. “Logan!” Enuti waited a moment, then shouted again to make sure he had the boy’s attention. “Logan! Get my rifle!” He freed a hand long enough to point at, laying on the ground about five feet behind him.

Then he directed his gaze upwards towards Tara. There was only one way for her to get down, and no one could help her at in the middle of the cliff. Worse, she was unarmed, for most of the weapons had been sent down already, as a holster potentially interfered with the climbing harness for the inexperienced. “Miss Craven!” When there was no motion of acknowledgement, he tried again. “Tara!” This time it worked. “Jump!”

Just then, one of the birds swooped again close, talons flashing. “Jump now!”

* * * * *

At the top of the cliff, the situation was far worse. All the weapons had been sent down already, except for some knives and Moran’s personal arsenal, so when Moran attracted the birds, he was the only one who could defend himself.

Janr took a second to glance around, looking for something to defend himself with, and finding nothing, took stock of the situation hurridly. Two of the birds were down, but the rest were moving around so much he could not get an accurate count.

Then his point of view vanished as he threw himself flat to avoid the swooping creatures. For all their massive size, they were surprisingly maneuverable and far too fast. Janr avoided getting hit, as did Moran, managing to stand through the first attack, apparently, but only one of the young native boys was so lucky. The other flew backwards against one of the scrub trees that dotted the top of the mesa, wet blood gleaming darkly on his dark skin and staining the clothing of his chest.

Janr drew his knife as he stood, while the boy scampered over to his wounded brother. Which is when the next attack came. From behind. Either the birds were even faster than Janr had thought, or there were even more of them than he had thought.

The whistling of the air was the first warning he had, and he spun, and only that spin took him out of the brunt of the attack. The gleaming talons slashed open his sleeve and he felt a hot burning wetness on his arm, but he struck back with his knife, which was ripped from his hand, stuck in the black flesh of the horrid creature. The momentum continued his spin until he could see the Professor again, but a second too late.

The older man had apparently not noticed the new attack, and it was far too late for him to turn to face it as the monsterous bird screamed once more, talons extending, totaling five feet of gleaming death aimed straight at Moran’s vulnerable back.

Even if the talons did not kill him, poised at the edge of the cliff, standing over the rope holding his former student safe, the impact of the attack surely would when he hit the ground, far too many feet far below.

Time seemed to have slowed, and every movement appeared to be played in slow-motion. The screeching of the birds filled her head, and it was only through luck and releasing her hold on the rope to drop slightly out of the way of the most serious attacks that she was still alive. Several parts of her body were stinging from the gashes she had received, the one that had caught her arm was the worse, and it was an effort to move it. She could feel the blood trickling down her arm. It was then that she did a foolish thing, she took a look at her wound, following the crimson river down her arm to the point that it dripped off her body into…

Her gaze followed the drop for a second until her eyes fixed upon the ground below…very far below. She swallowed deeply and closed her eyes, her fingers clutching hard at the rope, as a spasm of pain shot through her arm. Her desire not to fall outweighed any amount of pain, causing it to feel like nothing more than a irritation. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears… Bang! Bang! And then something brushed past her body.

Her eyes shot open. That was not the beating of her heart. She looked around, her thoughts coming to clarity. Gunshots! Someone was firing at her. She wanted to find who, but she also did not want to move too much. They seemed to be coming from two directions. Curiosity getting the better of her, she began to look around, fearing to look down but at the same time needing to be sure.

As she looked, she noticed that the attacks on her had grown less. The sound of the screaming birds had grown quieter. She spun herself around as best as she could, eyes searching the sky for enemies, waiting to feel their claws once more ripping into her skin. Her gaze went up first, seeing the birds further above her, near the cliff top. Her fear rose as she thought of her friends still up top, hoping that they had found cover. Her thoughts lingered with Moran, willing him to be safe and out of harms way.

Then her attention was taken to the ground below her. Her head swimming as she swung idly on the rope. She caught sight of Enuti, his words at first lost. But he appeared to be speaking to her… She frowned, straining to hear his words and quickly deciding that she had misheard him when she caught what she thought he had said.

Jump? Is he mad?

It was then the screaming returned…louder this time. She spun around, seeing the light glistening from its talons.

I’m going to die!

She loosened her hold on the rope…

When Beneli suddenly scrambled in beside him, it took all of Logan's restraint to not turn and blow the native of the cliff...for a moment, he thought one of the birds was attacking. Comforted by the appearance of the experienced guide at his side, the younger man listened intently to the older man's instructions. He fired at Beneli's command, aiming clearly this time. One of the large birds jerked suddenly, and began to plummet from the sky. Smiling grimly with satisfaction, Logan quickly tracked another bird and waited for Beneli's next order.

Enuti's cry came to him first, loud and filled with urgency. Reacting automatically, Logan turned and skittered across the rock-face towards the large hunting rifle. Hefting it, he looked up at Enuti, catching his eye. Nodding once, he lifted the rifle and threw it straight up, his strong arms launching it into the air, his desperation and something else guiding his aim, which was perfect. Enuti caught the rifle easily, and turned away. Logan returned to where Beneli still crouched, readying his sidearm and looking for new targets.

Well, he'd certainly gotten their attention. The bastard hell-birds had decided to try and kill him after he'd killed one of their own, showing a disturbing level of intelligence. Moran dropped to one knee, quickly firing his revolver, managing to hit another bird as they dove at him.

Moving faster than he should have any right to do, he ducked and rolled out of the way of their attack. He sprang back up to his feet and quickly broke his gun open, the five brass shells falling to the ground silently even as he jammed the speed loader in. He was snapping the brake shut as the birds came up behind him. He didn't have time to react aside from bracing himself for the attack.

The razor sharp talons bit deep into his back, knocking the air from his lungs and the gun from his hand. He and the bird struggled for what seemed like an eternity, even if it was only for the briefest of moments. Realizing that trying to carry him away wouldn't work, the bird disengaged from the professor, ripping its talons out. The force of the impact caused Moran his balance, and the shooting pain prevented him from regaining it.

He pitched over the ledge even as his bright crimson blood splattered onto the ground, barely managing to grab the ledge with his left hand. His body jerked as the fall was arrested and he winced in pain; again as his momentum caused him to bounce against the cliff face. His shredded shirt and vest were soaked in his scarlet blood, and he awkwardly reached for the small pistol in an ankle holster.

OOC: As per the telegrams, Gawdly’s last post will be ignored due to the lack of coherence with the rest of the thread. I realize he’s not logged in since the telegrams, and so the lack of correction will not be held against him. Just read more closely in the future.

Janr watched in horror, for as he hit the ground, Moran pitched forward over the edge of the cliff face. His eyes widened as he watched the old man’s hand grasp tightly to the rocks, and he crawled forward under the circling the birds, which still filled the air with horrifying screeches. His hand shot down, grasping Moran’s arm just below the elbow, while his other hand reach down, asking the question he could not phrase in English. Of course, that did not prevent him from crying out in his native tongue. “Give me your hand!”

Looking over the cliff, Janr fought down a wave of vertigo, brought on by his freely bleeding arm and the heights. Even if the professor managed to reach up and grab his arm, he was not going to be able to pull him up. He crooked his head over his shoulder and shouted at the local boy. “Help me!”

When the boy looked at him helplessly, he repeated the words, adding “Now!” to the command. The barked last word brought the young man out of his stupor and he stood, moving quickly across the face of the mesa. Which is when the birds came back, streaking down towards the only one atop the rock formation still standing.

“Get down!”

* * * * *

Enuti watched as the bird streaking for Tara changed the angle of its dive in midair, altering to continue on an intercept course for the falling student. But Enuti could control the rate of Tara’s descent far to finely for the bird to deal with. Equations he had not used in a long time blossomed in head.

Two seconds from where she was, how fast could he react?

Fast enough, it appeared. Tara’s feet rammed into the bird’s back as she fell, changing its shrieking attack into a squawk of surprise, as it missed its calculated interception, provoking a grim smile, white teeth creasing his dark face. Then another bird hit the ground, and then…

He nearly jumped as Logan had apparently figured out how to use the rifle, tearing another bird from midair.

Including Tara’s bird, there were at least six down now, and it was becoming easier for Beneli to count.

Well, it would have been if he had not been rolling out of the way to avoid the tangled mass of Tara and the creature she had hit. Enuti stopped the girl six feet above the ground. The bird hit with a wet splat, gore exploding up and outward as its skull was crushed by the impact, spraying onto those nearby.

As he lowered her the last bit, Enuti shouted over the next blast of the rifle, “Get down!” at the young woman. Bending his head, he grabbed Logan’s pistol as he ran the few feet to the base of the cliff, and handed it off to Tara, with no time to find her weapon in the packs. Then his own pistol was out.

Tracking… lead the target… the pistol bucked in his hand. Twice.

For a moment everything became slow motion, and despite the number of times people had told her of this phenomenon, she never really believed it until now. The series of events though appearing to happen very slowly at the same time seemed to flash past in a blur. As she let go of the rope, she suddenly had the bad feeling that she had made a big mistake as she started to hurtle towards the ground, only to find herself more than a little confused as she hit something hard beneath her. Before she had time to work out what was happening, the rope snapped tight, stopping her fall and jarring her body, which was more favourable than the other option.

Finally feeling the ground beneath her feet, Tara sighed heavily, her legs almost collapsing under her. Before she had time to think, she heard Enuti’s voice, and just managed to follow his instruction she crouched, taking the gun from the native as he raced up to her. She had barely got used to the idea of what was happening when she heard the two shots from his gun.

Looking up to see what had been attacking her, her body stinging where the razor sharp talons had caught her flesh, she gazed in horror, as there above them dangling precariously was Moran. Her stomach flipped over, making her feel oddly sick. She had been so wrapped up in her own problems that she did not even think that any of the others could have been injured in the fray.

“Professor?” She tried to see what was happening, whether he was getting any help. Not that she could do much herself. She looked at Enuti, fear in her eyes, as the others around her continued to fire their weapons at the remainder of the birds. She gazed over at Logan, as he fired off a couple of shots. Recalling her last endeavour with a strange gun, she steadied herself, and pulled the trigger, careful not to hit any of her companions, despite her body still shaking from her narrow escape.

Moran's head snapped up when he heard Janr's voice, abandoning his quest for his pistol. He swung his body up, firmly grabbing Janr about the wrist, his feet scraping against the cliffside, seeking purchase. The hand grabbing the cliff clenched violently, his fingers cutting against the rock. He released Janr when he noticed the birds coming back, letting the young native duck out of the way.

As he hung from the cliff, he looked around, considering his options. Dropping to the ground was clearly out. He'd survive the fall, but he'd likely break his legs, and he didn't feel like explaining how he had survived. The rope was too far away, and would simply put him in the situation Tara had been in. Janr didn't have the leverage, and was still under attack. He frowned at his limited options; he needed a plan and quick: his arm was started to get tired.

When Janr got back up and stretched out his arm again, Moran shook his head. He wasn't sure how fluent the native was, so he kept it simple: "Kill the birds first." He'd figure out how to get back up on his own.

Janr, of course, looked at Moran in shock. He had understood the order, but there was a slight problem with it. Other than what bullets where left in Moran’s hand cannon, laying near the edge of the cliff, and possibly a few knives, there where no weapons at the top of the cliff.

The usefulness, or lack thereof, of knives, had already been demonstrated to Janr’s satisfaction as he felt blood trickling down his arm, soaking his clothing. So he ignored the Professor completely, and grabbed his arm with which he was suspending himself from the cliff face with both hands, down near the elbow.

At the same time, he felt the young native grab his belt and they both pulled. Hard.

* * * * *

Enuti pulled the trigger again, watching Tara from the corner of his eye, and trying to track on the same birds she was. Pistols really sucked for shooting birds, after all, even birds as large as these.

But Logan was doing better with the rifle. So far only one shot had failed to bring down one of the birds. Suddenly, it was all over, with a last booming of the rifle. The remaining birds where flying away from the fight, abandoning the field, as it were. No more than three or four of them, though. And if Logan had not been out of bullets, he could have probably brought the rest down. Put most of the guns were empty by now, so it was just as well.

As the sound faded, Enuti leaned back against what was left of the bird Tara had killed on her way down, and felt something poke into his back, before, sliding down under his weight. He turned, and guiding his fingers under the feathers, extracted Janr’s knife from the bird’s side.

Then he sat back, panting for air. But he would only let himself rest for a moment.

Tara breathed heavily, as she watched the birds disappear almost as quickly as they had arrived. The sense of relief was overpowering, and it took every effort for her not to jump up and down excitedly. Fortunately, her lack of energy and the sudden concern for Moran, which had returned the moment danger had left, meant that until he was safe there could be no real celebrating.

Looking up at the cliff, she could see the professor still holding on, which filled her with more happiness than she could express. She was very relieved that she had managed not to hit him with a shot. This trip was not exactly turning out to be the most uneventful one she had been on; in fact, it made the last one kind of pale by comparison.

She turned her attention to Logan and Enuti, making sure that both were unhurt, as she moved over to the native, who was sitting against one of the fallen birds. She gave him a smile, grinning insanely with relief while her eyes were filled with worry.

“Are we still going to be able to get them down?” She flicked her head upwards to indicate the others still at the top of the cliff. She crouched down beside him. “Thank you.” She smiled nervously. “I had images of not stopping.” She blushed slightly, and then hugged the man, catching him unawares, before getting up quickly and moving back to watch as something was happening at the top of the rock face.

Moran was about to protest further when he felt the natives pulling him up. Complaints weren't going to accomplish anything at this point, so he scrambled with his feet and wounded arm. By the time they got him back up over the edge, the birds were leaving. He nodded his thanks to Janr and set to carefully examining his arm.

He simply ripped off the sleeve, the shirt was ruined anyway, and gently poked at the bleeding wounds. The cuts weren't terribly deep, thank Tsathoggua, but it would certainly need to be bandaged. Some antibiotics might be in order too. Surviving the attack to only be felled by gangrene was not high on his list of ironies he wanted to experience.

At the top of the cliff, Janr reassured himself that there was little that could be done for Moran, though he pulled a clean kerchief out of his pocket and offered it to the man. It was the best they had at the top of the cliff without the packs. All the medical supplies were at the bottom.

He noted the Professor’s large pistol still laying on the ground, but something else was concerning him. He moved quickly over to the young native who had felt the full impact of one of the birds’ attacks. He was lying again the brush, propped at an odd angle. His head hung limply on his neck.

Janr had seen enough injuries in his time in the jungle to know what he was looking at, but he lifted two fingers to the young man’s neck, feeling for the pulse he knew he would not find.

He glanced around the top of the little mesa. Yeah, there was enough wood from the scrub brush here to burn him. He turned to the young man’s brother, who was weeping silently now that the attack had passed.

* * * * *

Enuti felt dazed by the sudden cessation of the attack, and even more when the young woman wrapped him up in a big hug. He looked down at his pistol in his hand, staring at it oddly for a second. Then he seemed to recover himself, shaking himself slightly. “We should be able to get them down from the cliff,” he said with a smile. “If you take that off.” He pointed to the harness she was still wearing.

Then, recovering completely his composure, he stripped out the empty magazine from his pistol, knowing he still had one shot in the chamber. “Try to clean as much of the blood and gore off of you as possible,” he said to the young woman while he pulled another magazine from his deep pockets. “We’ll all have to. It’ll just attract other predators if we don’t. Try to use some ruined clothing or something, as we’ll be burning it.”

Moran accepted the kerchief and tied it around his bleeding arm, leaving Janr to comfort the grieving native. He walked over and picked up his firearm, placing it in its holster; he could clean and reload at the bottom of the cliff. Speaking of the bottom of the cliff, he stepped to the rope and glanced down, checking to see how things were, "You guys okay down there?"

Almost as if coming out of a dream, Tara looked down her body and saw the harness that she had forgotten she was wearing. Things had happened so fast, that the fact that she was still attached to the rope went completely out of her mind. She fingered the harness, and nodded her head, as she returned her gaze to Enuti. “I’ll do that right away.” She rubbed the blood off her fingers into the shirt she was wearing, before her attention was taken by a noise coming from the top of the cliff.

Taking a few steps back, she looked up, shielding her eyes from the glare, and waved her hand at the figure above, sighing with relief that Moran was safely back on firm ground. Not having the strength to shout up to him, she gave him the okay sign, which she doubted he would be able to make out from where he was.

Content that the only way she could help those still stranded on the cliff was to get the harness to them, she quickly slipped out of the contraption and made her way over to where the packs lay. Fishing out her bag, she pulled out a fresh set of clothing, careful not to get blood over everything. She unbuttoned her shirt, keeping a little out of sight from the other members of the team, and removed her shirt. She grimaced as the material came away from her body revealing several gashes in her flesh, which decided to suddenly sting with pain.

Returning to her bag, she once more looked inside, pulling out some handkerchiefs and a small emergency kit. Wrapping the material around the wounds she could, and touching up the others, she placed on her new shirt, the messed up one still in her hands as she moved back over to the harness. She quickly wiped away as much blood as she could from the harness, before returning to Enuti, who had began to busy himself with getting ready for the descent of the others.

“I’ve got off as much as I can.” As she spoke she grimaced again, the cuts on her body beginning to protest now that she had little else occupying her mind. “We need to get them down quickly, so that we can deal with any injuries they might have sustained.” She looked over the native. “Are you hurt?” Not waiting for him to answer, she spun around to see if any of the others needed assistance.

Janr was certainly no holy man, but he knew what had to be done. He attempted to convey this to Moran without words, so that the shocky young native boy went down the cliff first.

While the injured Moran went down the ropes next, Janr lit the fire, watching solemnly, muttering what blessings he could upon the boy, taken too young, but old enough to know, and understand.

That was always the important thing, to understand why, to face it with absolute conviction and uncertainty as your reasons. And the young boy, no, man, had. Switching the rope over to a free repel setup, Janr swiftly descended the cliff into the lengthening day, soon to be past midmorning.

* * * * *

Enuti had realized something had happened when Moran was not the first one down the ropes after the attack, and just what had become clear by the time he could see the young man’s face.

Grief was a powerful thing, but he knew that the remaining locals would complete the journey out of respect for their loss. To give up would sacrifice the reason for which one of their number had died. They would confront the loss later, though, he decided.

But as Janr came down the cliff, Enuti realized the smoke from the top would likely make discussion a necessity sooner rather than later. Seeing the professor when he reached the bottom, he had wordlessly provided the man with a medical kit, then helped Janr with his arm now.

When all the unsalvagable, bloodied, and torn clothing was gathered into a pile, Enuti lit it. While blood attracted predators, the stench of the same liquid burning would keep them away, for a short time.

Soon, though, it became clear they were just killing time at the bottom of the cliff, and that was something it was becoming readily apparent they could not afford. Time to go.

“Everyone make sure your weapons are fully ready before we move out. Should we come to any more obstacles like this one, we won’t separate weapons from owners unless absolutely necessary. We’ll not have another screw up like this one.”

My screw up.

Enuti reloaded his rifle, and slung it with his pack, calmly waiting on the group to form up. He would discuss what had happened on the trail.

Tara had almost leapt for joy when she saw Moran touch the ground. Her eyes had followed his all the way down the cliff face, and it was with the highest amount of restraint that she did not go running over to him and wrap her arms around him, thanking whatever gods there were for his safe deliverance. She gave him a smile, her eyes revealing how glad she was that he was mostly unharmed, not that anyone had come out of the skirmish without a scratch.

What seemed like a lifetime later, the blood covered clothing disappearing in a cloud of smoke, Tara followed the instructions she was given, and made certain that her weapon was loaded and within a hand’s reach. She picked up the rest of her belongings and followed along as the group began to move out, a feeling of sadness swept over the party as they realised how lucky they had been, while at the same time feeling remorse for the member of the party that did not survive.

As they continued along, Tara found herself humming a little tune, one that her father always sang to her when she was little and sad. She watched as the Professor and Enuti took the lead, and the rest of the group taking their usual positions, with Tara somewhere near the back of the column with Beneli taking up the rear. She hoped that they would have a trouble free journey, as they all tried to gain the strength and courage that they had lost in the recent battle.

The bleeding on Moran's arm had stopped, but started again from the straing of the climb down. He frowned slightly at it, switching out the bandaging and adding his bloodied sleeve to the fire. Taking a moment to reload his revolver, he nodded to Entui, "Good plan, that."

He heading down the path with Enuti, more aware for the dangers in the jungle than before. He mildly cursed himself at how lax they had been. He couldn't afford to be distracted at a time like this, or in a place like this.

They were out of the hills by mid-afternoon of the next day, and had passed without incident through the remainder of the vertical country.

Once more, they were following the river and all it had to offer them in the way of help and hindrance, but the ready access to water was a definite improvement over the hills, especially as they were now back under the sweltering influence of the jungle canopy. Janr and Beneli remained more alert than normal, sensing more than knowing outright of Enuti’s funk, and knowing that grief clouded the senses of the two locals.

The long hours of hiking were very slowly, but steadily, uphill, and, for the most part, passed in relative silence, broken only by the natural sounds which enveloped the party. The oppressive humidity seemed to be growing as they hiked further into the interior, and gentle mists now greeted their mornings and evenings, as the changing temperature overloaded the air.

The air just seemed thick now, and finding clearings in which to sleep and pause for eating was becoming harder, leading to shorter days of travel, and consequently, more down time. It was in one of these late day halts that their camp was arranged now, a fire crackling merrily in strange counterpoint to the pall of silence among the humans, as Enuti tried to figure out how to put a hole through some of the claws he had taken from one of the birds, ready to string them onto a thong of leather which already held the panther claws he had earlier retrieved.

Finally entering the clearing and being able to drop her belongings, Tara let out a long drawn out sigh, as she looked around her cautiously. She had never been paranoid before, having always believed that it did not happen to her, but her outlook had been change radically in the last couple of weeks, and it was as a very weary individual that she made herself comfortable on the ground, wishing for the hundredth time that she was back in The Hack and lying on a nice comfortable bed, having just emerged from the shower.

Shaking the thought away, she began to rummage in her bag, feeling the need suddenly for some painkillers to each the aches and pains that had started following the cliff experience. She brushed her hand through her hair, pushing the lose strands out of her face, as she finally felt her hand make contact with the box of tablets.

She looked at the others as they all began to relax, while at the same time remaining on their guard. They had seen so much lately that none of them were going to risk being caught again. They were all still recovering from their wounds, both physical and mental. She sighed once more, wondering not for the first time why she had risked them all on this trip, and how she would ever forgive herself for the lives that had been lost on her whim.

The clearing made for a nice break. The birds were largely forgotten, only the rare dull ache remaining from it. Moran sat on the opposite side of the fire from Tara, still uncomfortable with what had happened, and not wanting to be distracted at this point. He looked at the faces of the people in his group, they had all been affected in their own way by the death of the native porter. Logan's responce had been the most striking: he was even more withdrawn then usual. He didn't think much of it, and just relaxed for once.

Logan sat with the other natives, mourning the man who did not make it. He had grown close to the other two young men in the group, and he felt the pain of the remaining one along with his own. He had suffered so much this trip, had lost people who were important to him. He knew that he was not the only one, despite what the others might think, he like them had feelings, but as always when a person had money, they also seemed to think they were less vulnerable than those that had to struggle through life. But as he sat there in the jungle, surrounded by the huge imposing trees, he realised that unlike them he was alone in his grief and those that had nothing had at least each other to turn to.

He looked around the camp at each of those around him; he had been through so much with these people. Had shared their laughter and their tears, but despite all that they had been through, he had failed to share in their friendship. He turned his attention to the flames of the fire, watching it flicker and dance before him. Life was like fire, it would move in the direction that the winds blew, but every so often a spark would move it away from the path it was on and suddenly everything was different.

Moving from his place with the natives, he moved over to where Moran and Tara were sitting, giving both of them a sad smile. He sat down beside the fire, and warned his hands, rubbing them enthusiastically, trying to instil some heat. “I think it’s going to be another cold night?” He said, speaking to no one in general.


[ooc: As Gawdly has disappeared and Logan has been a major character in this thread, I am taking over the playing of him. If anyone has any complaints, tough.]

Moran glanced up from cleaning his gun, peering at Logan with an analytical eye. The boy had always been difficult to figure out, possibly because he was in way over his head. Moran didn't usually take undergrads out with him on trips like this, but Logan had been so insistent on coming with. Tara had been a graduate student when she went with him the first time, and was probably going to work on her doctorate after this trip.

This, of course, raised an interesting complication. Their 'activity' in the back of that cave meant that he probably wouldn't be able to be involved in her thesis review. Hell, she probably wouldn't even want him involved after this; she still seemed rather upset about the whole thing. Perhaps he could still be her advisor, but being on the review panel would certainly be a conflict of interest.

He sighed, cleaning his revolver almost absentmindedly. He was afraid that he had severely bollocksed up things with Tara. Still, right now he couldn't allow himself to be concerned with it; finding Prof. Craven's last site was too important. The presence of something unnatural meant he couldn't spend his time worrying about his personal life. If Sui was right about the being, they were all in no small amount of danger; especially considering the fact that Moran didn't know an appropriate banishing / dismissal spell.

Satisfied with the cleanliness of his gun, he shoved it back into its holster and glanced around at the gathered group. It was certainly an eclectic one. The dull throb in his arm reminded him of how valuable Enuti and his fellow villagers were. Saint Toad willing, they wouldn't lose any more.

Tara looked up as Logan spoke and smiled, knowing what he must be going through at the loss of the native. He had been very close to the two younger members of the party, and it had to have hit him hard, especially following the other loss he had experienced of his closest friend. Tara still shuddered at the image of the body that she had seen in the pit, not that it was much more than a skeleton, the flesh having been completely cooked away.

“Cold isn’t always such a bad thing.” She ran her finger through her hair, as if just by doing so she would cool down following the oppressive heat of the day. She had thought that trekking through the lower jungle had been bad, but since they had move onto the plateau it had started to become unbearable. “I wish we could see a little less sun during the day. And I would ask whatever gods dwell here for rain, but I have a feeling they are sadistic sons of a bitch, and we’d end up caught in a flood.” She laughed.

Logan grinned slightly, but the humour did not quite reach his eyes. “They certainly have been throwing everything at us that they can.” He once more returned his gaze to the fire, losing himself in thoughts as he watched the flickering flames. At least she was still safe.

Tara nodded. “I’m beginning to doubt how wise it was coming here.” She felt her gaze falling upon him as she once more thought about what she had thrown away in her foolishness. She placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder, which caused his smile to grow. “I just hope that we do not…” She was going to say ‘lose any more’ but saying the words to Logan seemed wrong.

Suddenly she let out a long yawn. “I don’t think I could have walked another centimetre today.” She rapidly changed the subject. “Enuti,” she called over to the native as he walked by. “Please come and join us.” She felt an odd affinity to the man, knowing that she now owed him her life, just like she owed Moran. “I think we all deserve a rest.”

Enuti dropped down on a log on the opposite side of the fire from Tara and Logan, staring through the flames, the orange light reflecting oddly in his eyes, seeming to shadow his skin even more, fading him into the night, all but two points of reflected inferno.

Reaching out, he stuck one of the claws into the coals beneath the flames, having rammed it through a branch, hopefully positioning it so the fire did not catch the branch.. Perhaps heating would make it soft enough for him to push a hole through. He glanced at the three light skinned people, including the brooding Professor. “And you’ll get a rest,” responded to Tara. “We’re up at first light to keep moving, though. I suggest we all get some sleep while we can. Janr and Beneli will take the first watch, I’ll take the second, with Logan, and the Professor,” he waited until the older man looked up at the sound of his title, “and Miss Craven will take the third.”

At that, he seemed to withdraw slightly, staring back into the flames, watching as his captured claw began to slowly glow red.

Tara looked between the Professor and Enuti as the younger man spoke, wondering why he had done the pairings in such a way. She had barely passed more than a few words with Moran since the cave incident, and this would just leave them sitting in the dark in silence. She wanted to speak to him, she did, but there was always that fear that he would bring up what had happened and would let slip something that she did not want to hear. And that would lead to the end of their friendship, which already seemed to be on shaky ground.

Yet at the same time, she could not refuse to be paired with him. She could make conversation with him, could pretend everything was normal. “That sounds fine to me,” she said enthusiastically, smiling at Enuti. “Unless Professor, you would prefer to change?” She looked at him, her eyes filled with this fear that he would offer to take a watch with Logan or one of the others instead.

Logan looked up as the conversation progressed. He was still a little put out with the native, and could not stop the thoughts of his mentor’s charred body lying in the ash of a dead fire popping into his head every time he looked at the native. But he knew that they would not be standing where they were right now without the natives’ aid. They had also managed to clear the air a little following a discussion earlier on in the journey.

“I am happy to take any watch.” His voice sounded lively as he spoke, the thoughts helping to clear his mind of the death he had experienced. “I should hit the sack if I’m to be up in a few hours.” He looked at the trio and smiled, as he rose to his feet.

Moran simply glanced up at Enuti, looking briefly to Tara and then back, "It's fine with me." He gave a slight shrug before looking back at the fire. He wasn't the most social of people, he what Enuti was trying to do was painfully obvious. Even the most dense person would notice that there had been a change in the interaction between himself and Tara, and that the chilling happened 'that night' in the cave. Enuti wasn't an idiot and probably had a pretty good idea what had happened, especially if he knew about the fruit -- Moran wasn't familiar with it, but it was the only random variable that day, so it had to be responsible.

He wasn't especially looking forward to spending the watch with Tara, though. He liked her, obviously, but he was positive that she hated him for how he'd acted in the cave. Granted, he had acted like a cad, wham-bam, thank you ma'am came to mind. She probably figured that he'd just used her and wanted nothing to do with her. That wasn't the case, but he couldn't figure out how to properly phrase an apology or explination or whatever it should be. Besides, they had a mildly working relationship right now, so why rock the boat when Charon's piloting? He figured he'd simply let things flow as they might, and hope that there wasn't a catastrophy.

Tara felt her heart sink as she heard the professor’s words. She really had screwed up this time. He did not even want to spend time with her, not that she was overly happy about spending the evening in total silence, but at least it would give her the opportunity of trying to get her journal up to date. She let out a sigh, and smiled, trying to hide how she was feeling.

She yawned for effect, and stood up. “If I want a chance at getting up for my watch, I’d best get some sleep.” She smiled to each of the men around the fire, and took herself off to her belongings, where she begun to rearrange things for the night.

Getting herself comfortable, she looked over at the fire, the flames dancing. She knew that when she returned to the university she was going to have to find some way of requesting Moran to be taken off her assessment. Closing her eyes, she let out another long sigh, as she watched her life falling about her ears. She berated herself, not for the first time, for the stupidity she displayed in starting the expedition. It was as these thoughts were whirling around her head that she finally drifted into less than pleasant dreams.

When Janr shook Enuti awake a few hours later, he rose quietly, looking over the camp. Exchanging a few words in his native tongue with his friend, he nodded and sent the tired and injured man to bed.

Eyes roving in the light of the fire, which would keep most animals away, he saw Beneli awaking Logan, and sighed. He was not sure what had possessed him to pair himself with the surly and withdraw young man, but he had, so he would live with it for now.

Watching the fire silently, the first hour passed them by as Enuti went back to fiddling with the metal claws, finally having managed to bore a whole through one of them. After adding it to the leather thong and draping it back under his olive shirt, he looked at Logan, his hands idly playing with the safed trigger of his rifle, held across his lap. “Who was he?”

Logan had barely uttered a sound since Beneli had woken him for his watch. He had sat silently for the last hour, staring into the fire, walking around the camp and cleaning his gun, now more than anything he wanted a smoke and a sip of something that would make everything seem right in the world, but he had been forced, by the man across from, to give up everything. It seemed to the young man, that there was little more that Enuti could take from him.

Almost as if he had read his thoughts, Logan heard the native speak, his eye travelling from the fire, which he was once again watching, and brought them to Enuti’s eyes. At first it looked as if he did not understand the question, but eventually he answered. His voice was low and reverential as he spoke.

“A great man.” The words seemed enough to the young man, who had thought of him as nothing short of father, lowered his eyes, and once more stared at the fire. But this time, he was not watching the flickering flames, instead he saw inside the orange glow, scenes of himself and his second father.

Enuti sighed softly, the sound covered by the crackling flames. He's not being helpful. He turned to everything he knew about Logan, about the mysterious stranger his village had apparently murdered unknowingly.

"Why don't you start by telling me his name, and why he was walking around the jungle looking like death warmed over?" He stared across at Logan, willing him to be more informative this time.

Logan continued to look at the fire for a moment, even after Enuti had spoken, the image still playing in the flames. He could feel the anger bubbling up inside him, as the scene before him changed, and instead of the live Brick, he could see before him the bones amongst the ashes, the tarnished dog tags still wrapped around them.

He moved his eyes, no longer wanting to face the picture in the flames. He turned his head, looking at Enuti, searching the man’s face. “He was a friend, a father, a teacher.” He paused, having said so much to one of the men who had killed Brick was like a nightmare tearing at his insides. “Why he was here? I can only surmise that he was trying to protect me.” He lowered his eyes, looking at the ground in the low light of the fire. “He did not deserve to die.” His voice was low and full of bitterness.

Enuti sighed softly, knowing it was unheard over the crackling of the flames. It was quite clear to him that Logan was lying, and he still had not gotten a name of the man he had participated in murdering, however inadvertently. It was perfectly clear to him, though, that telling Logan the truth of what had happened would likely not help matters any, as he obviously revered the man.

At a guess, Logan had been worried, or insecure, and had wanted backup, friends, in case they were all alone out here in the jungle, and he had either asked or ordered the man to come, depending on their relationship. More likely asked, it sounded like. So guilt for the death? Perhaps. Enuti would never know until he found out more, but confronting Logan now would be difficult.

Later, he would ask again later.

The rest of the watch was served in silence, until Enuti woke Moran, wondering if it had been the best idea to have the infatuated Logan wake up Tara.

Logan had been grateful when Enuti finally feel quiet. He was in no mood to talk about Brick to anyone especially not one he knew was responsible for his death. He cast a glance at Enuti. The man managed to raise a hatred in him that he did not think it was possible to feel, a burning rage which made him want to grab a weapon and make him pay for what he did. Kill him slowly, so that he would have time to reflect on what Brick had felt when his life had been taken.

But he did nothing, now was not the time. But one day…one day his time would come, and he would make sure that Brick’s death was avenged. Yes, he could already see his triumph in his mind’s eye. He could see the death and destruction, the pain and suffering, and could see Brick’s face, watching as those that took his life paid for their mistake.

He looked up in surprise when the native spoke, informing him that their watch was over. Looking at the man for a moment, he stood up, and followed his instructions, his mind momentarily cleared of his previous thoughts, as he walked over to where Tara lay.

As he drew near, and in the low light of the fire, his eyes gazed down onto her sleeping form. There had always been something about her, from the moment he had seen her at University. He could still recall the day that he had found out about the expedition, when he had heard her conversation with the Professor. He had joined for his own reasons, but he had joined also for her. He had hoped that they could have been friends and more.

He placed his hand lightly on her cheek, and watched as she stirred. He wondered whose touch her sleeping mind had pictured. Not his, he knew. He looked over his shoulder where he knew Enuti was waking up Moran. In his heart, he knew who she saw. There had been something between them at the cave, the way they had changed towards each other. And there had been something before that too, if rumours were to be believed.

Turning his attention back to the sleeping Tara, he brushed a strand of her hair from her forehead, a smile playing at his lips. “Tara!” He raised his voice, knowing that she was not always the easiest of people to wake, and it took several calls and a shake to bring her from her sleep.

“Hmmm,” she murmured as she sleepily rubbed her hand over her eyes, bringing them to focus.

Logan grinned, almost looking like his old. “Time to get up, sleepyhead. It’s your watch.” He rose from the ground and giving her one last look, walked over to his own bed roll, and made himself comfortable for the rest of the night.

The trees had become a blur long ago, their wood and foliage indistinguishable from the one before and the one after. Janr led them, and Beneli brought up the rear, keeping the diminished group intact. There was little frivolity in their motion now, as the heat had become oppressive and the mist confining and surrounding, causing the group to have to stay closer together as they moved, or risk losing each other.

Here, in the jungle which had already proved so dangerous and deadly, separation would likely be their last mistake. So instead of being spread over nearly one hundred yards of jungle, the nine survivors were spread across a mere ten. The sun was weak, and provided little light through the dense canopy of towering trees, and yet everything was lit diffusely as the rays bounced around in the airborne water. If anything had attacked the group over the next two days, the last of their journey, it would have been upon them and killed them all before they had even known it was coming.

Fortunately, nothing did. The travel was silent, and even Enuti gave up on sparking conversation. His attempt with Logan the other night had proved a dismal failure, and his further attempt with Miss Craven and the Professor had, if possible turned out even worse. They were no longer speaking to each other at all, apparently.

So much for his efforts at increasing peace and harmony. A swish of machete drew his attention back to the surroundings as the group moved into an area of yet more thick creeper vines.

If anything, the mist was getting thicker between the trees, making it harder to see, to breath, even to move. But yet, they continued onwards.

Waving a large leaf that she had managed to find as they walked, Tara fanned herself slowly, almost wanting to take her mind of the silence. It had gotten unbearable. No one seemed to be talking to anyone; even Logan was not conversing with the natives as he usually did. But then, they had not really recovered from losing one of their own during the bird attack.

She let out a sigh, knowing that several of those around her could hear, not that she really cared. Her mind kept wandering back to her time of watch, which caused her to sigh again. She wanted nothing more than to slap the man walking behind her for not telling her the truth about the fruit. She was barely able to take to the professor anymore, without feeling some level of guilt for tricking him into having sex with her, even if she was tricked into it herself.

The fan continued to move in front of her face, doing little to cool her down, but it gave her something to do as she walked. She wanted to scream, as the silence seemed to close in around her. But before she could her eyes fell upon the mist that seemed to be rising around them.

“What is that?” She frowned, having spoken out even though she had not meant to. She reached out in front of her, as if she could feel the fog with her hands. She gave up on the fan, the effort of breathing and moving more than enough to keep her occupied.

For what it was worth, Moran wasn't exactly enjoying the chill that had fallen over the group any more than anyone else was. He wasn't sure why, but he just couldn't bring himself to talk to Tara; a situation that pained him. She had been one of his best students, after all, but things seemed to be heading from bad to worse between them. He wanted to talk to her, but was afraid that anything he might say would simply make things worse.

He also found the mist a bad omen.

---

Deep within the recesses of the young man's soul, the kuja-akahawé grinned happily to itself, the group was nearing The Source. Once there, it repair its weakened form. Its host was too strong to command right now, but once the group reached The Source, things would be different. It could tell that its host would only put up token resistance: he had a great deal of rage inside him.

It would be delicious.

---

The mist could very well be considered a terrible omen, in fact. While mist wasn't unheard of in a jungle, this was not a natural mist. It was far thicker than a normal mist, and while a highly humid environment could make it hard to breathe, this mist seemed to pull moisture from people who walked through it and then added it to its mass. It was almost as if someone, or something, was trying to keep people from crossing this particular Rubicon.

Moran frowned as they move through the vampirish haze, feeling it pulling on him while at the same time trying to push him away. He murmured softly under his breath, not for the first time wishing that the magic he knew was less esoteric and of more practical use: it would be so much easier to just conjure a wind or something similar to clear the air.

Almost as an answer to his desires, the mist thinned out, revealing a ruin plain that had no business being in the middle of the jungle. Large crumbling chunks of stone and masonry dotted the clearing; ruined buildings stood as silent watchers, circling the center of the clearing. The ruins looked older than the jungle itself, and looked apart from the jungle: there were no creeping vines or foliage to speak of at all; the jungle eschewed this place. Not only was there no flora, but fauna -- even the most odious and evil -- shunned the clearing. There were no cobwebs, no birds, not even the malefic demon-panthers dared the mist. Only humans would be foolish enough to pierce such a barrier.

In the center of the clear sat an ancient and ruined temple. Its walls were covered in cracks, and crumbled stone surrounded it, undisturbed by any wind or rain. Uncouth red marks could be seen on some of the stones, but otherwise it looked as if it hadn't interacted with reality for millennia. This was a structure out of time, and its hatred of the natural was distinctly palpable.

Moran stood at the entrance to the clearing, frowning distinctly as he took in the sight before him. He might a slight gesture with his hand before slowly walking forward towards the temple. He was no longer introspective at this point, his mood had turned deeply serious, much as he had back when he and Tara had last ventured where they shouldn't. He set down his backpack at the extreme perimeter, just inside the mist, "We're here."

---

The kuja-akahawé silently howled in delight as they crossed the misty barrier. They were almost to The Source. It slowly started to twist its host, whispering in his mind, encouraging him to enter the temple, and whispering about his companions: their hatred for him, their distrust, their murderous ways.

Soon, it would do more than just whisper; soon it would show him the possibilities. Soon. Soon.

Logan stepped through the mist into the clearing, his eyes fixed to the temple before him. He had read about such things, but he had never seen one before, not in the flesh. He took several steps forward, and dropped his belongings to the floor absentmindedly, his gaze never leaving the sight before him. It seemed new and yet oddly familiar. Everyone around him paled into the distant recesses of him mind, although they seemed to be there in his thoughts too. He almost jumped when he felt the touch on his shoulder.

“You looked miles away.” Tara’s voice broke through his reverie, her soft laughter pulling him back to reality. “It is amazing isn’t it? And yet at the same time…it fills me with a kind of dread.” She smiled at him as he turned and looked into her face, though she could not hide the fear that seemed to be held deep in her eyes.

Logan returned her smile, his own gaze revealing his usual feelings for her, but she seemed too wrapped up in the professor to even notice. His gaze flicked briefly to Moran, a loathing growing in his chest, as he wondered how many others around him were going to take that what he wanted the most from him. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s only an old temple.”

“Only an old temple?” Tara looked at him oddly, her brow creased as she shook her head slightly. “Logan, this is the source. This is where all the bad things that have happened to us have led us.” She turned her head, her eyes blazing with anger at the thought of what the demons that lingered inside had done to their party and her father. “It’s like, all along, everything that has happened has happened just to get us here. Don’t you feel that?” Her voice was hardly a whisper as she looked at him.

The young man laughed lightly. “It’s just an old building, built up by legends of jungle people who know no better.” His own gaze returned to the image before them. “There is nothing in there to fear.” He found her eyes, the intensity of his stare frightening her. “I will protect you, Tara. I promise.”

Tara stood looking at him, staring, unable to form words. “Thank you,” she finally managed to stammer. “I…ah…I think we should get prepared. The Professor is bound to want to get inside as quickly as possible.” She gave him a smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

Watching as the young woman walked over to where the rest of the group were arranging their belongings, Logan let his gaze fall on each of the party, his internal feelings for each coming to bear on his thoughts, before he pushed them away. With a secret smile, he looked once more at the temple and turned, and picked up his bags, before rejoining the group, totally ignoring the unusual look that Tara was giving him.

As the mist peeled away, the three natives came to a stop within the circle that surrounded the ruins. Beneli and Janr could be seen to be fingering their crossbows, as if eager to lift them up and shoot at something, but lacking targets.

Enuti’s reaction was even more dramatic. As he shivered with chill, despite the warmth of the sun, his pistol slid in to his hand, his eyes scanning the area as his pack dropped onto the ground, forgotten. Finally, he completed his survey, relaxing slightly, though his holster remained unfastened when the weapon returned to it.

The temple ruins were dark and forboding to him, and he did not want to go anywhere near them. He had a very bad feeling about this.

Glancing around, he saw Tara looking oddly at Logan, and that triggered something in his mind, recalling that during his sweep they had been discussing something quietly. Tara was worried about something, he could see it in her eyes, and it was not the temple, considering the direction of her gaze.

Logan Grey.

He seemed so out of place to Enuti, here, in the jungle, surrounded by things he knew how to fight but was totally out of his element fighting. Of course, very soon, all of them would be out of their element.

Except perhaps Moran. Enuti waited to see what the professor did. He had been guide this far. It was the old man’s show now.

Tara dropped her things in a pile, finally drawing her attention from Logan, who moved a little nearer to the group, but still seemed to keep his distance. He had been different when she spoke to him, but she put it down to the presence of the temple, and the young man’s inability to admit his feelings if he was not under the influence of some substance of other.

Checking her gun, she then grabbed several other items that might come in useful, including the knife she had been giving by Ta’pek in another jungle. Holding it in her hand, it filled her with a strange sense of calm. Tucking it through her belt, she once more began to rummage in her bag, wondering if she should bring along a camera in case there was anything interesting to be seen inside. Not wanting to miss out, she looped the strap over her head, the leather resting across her chest, the camera against her hip.

She looked briefly at Enuti, who appeared to be as affected by the place as she felt. She gave him a smile and stood up, walking over to where he and the professor were getting ready. A look at Moran made her feel suddenly more at ease, as she prepared to follow him once again into an unknown temple, knowing that he would see them all safely out again.

The air was oddly dry, as if the ring of mist was drawing it away from the fell circle and ominous temple-ruin. The effect of the mist wasn't as draining as it was inside the mist, it was more a vague sensation at this point. Without even thinking, Moran withdrew one of his two remaining cigars from his vest, carefully lighting it. It was a little dry from the mist, but not as dried as he feared it would be. He calmly took a few drags as he surveyed the area. He realised that everyone was waiting for him to comment, but he didn't want to rush things.

He sucked his teeth a little and spat on the ground, smirking as his saliva rapidly soaked into the ground; it was indeed dryer here than the rest of the jungle. He walked around the perimeter of the ruins, already starting to think of it as a complex. Every now and then he would pause and run his fingers over a piece of masonry, feeling out the faint carvings that were once there. Much as he expected, there were no warding markings anywhere. This wasn't a place that had been corrupted, it was evil from day one.

The mist provided a certain protection from animals, while the temple was likely to source of whatever they had to deal with. Therefore, it would be safest -- a laughable word here -- to set up near the mist. He scooped up his bag and walked towards the mist, stopping about five feet from where it seemed to start, not that there was a clear line of demarcation.

"Okay then," he finally said. His usually jovial mood was gone, and the Ghost Hunter person was coming to the surface. "We'll leave our things here, and use this area as a base camp." He glanced over to be sure that Enuti was translating for the natives, smoking as needed to give Enuti the time to finish translations. "This temple is the source of the kuja-akahawé, or whatever it is. The mist was to keep people and animals out.

"We, of course, are foolish enough to put this thing down. It looks like Prof. Craven found his way in, some of that blood looks a little fresher. Hard to say as it probably dried in a couple minutes. Still, any guardians are probably still inside. In other words, expect shit to fly once we go inside. Everyone needs to be on their toes once we cross the ruins and head towards the temple. Remember, the kuja-akahawé is non-corporeal. St. Toad only knows what its servants are like. If something crazy starts happening, don't hesitate to flee. Dying against something you can't win against isn't heroic."

He took a long drag from the cigar before dropping it to the ground and snuffing it out with his boot. "Any questions, or do we move on to who's going in and who's staying out here?"

Tara listened intently and watched the professor as he wandered around, not wanting to say anything to distract him. He was an amazing man, as scatty as he appeared in class or more so at public receptions, seeing him in the field, in his element brought the true Daniel Moran to the surface. The man’s whose reputation was more than deserved, he had earned the respect he received from hard work and the hands on touch, and not like some, by the gift of the gab.

She shook her head as he asked the final question, her body crouched beside her belongings, making sure for the last time that she had everything she would need for the trip inside. A feeling of dread filled her body, as she looked passed the professor to the ancient temple and ruins that framed him. There was something alarming about the calm presence that it held, tall and so out of place in the middle of a jungle.

Logan, who had finished with his bags, and had placed them a little way from the others, moved into the group ready for the off. He too had watched and listened to Moran, but not as intently as Tara had. As he looked at the scene before him, he could feel the presence of the place, could feel the foreboding sensation, just like everyone else, but he held no fear…he never held any fear.

Staring straight at the professor, feeling confident in the older man’s gaze, he gave a small grin, his eyes filled with a strange excitement. “What do you think we are going to find inside, Professor?” His eyes once more lingered on the stones beyond. “Our weapons will be no use against it, will they?” His voice sounded low and even.

Enuti listened with a quiet stoicism to the Professor’s words, translating for the natives, watching Beneli and Janr growing more confident, and watching the Uncle and his nephew growing more and more afraid. But then, since the third local had been killed by the birds, they had become, understandly, much more timid and withdrawn. Losing a loved one did that to you.

Speaking rapidly in his native tongue, he gave instructions to the natives. Janr would stay with the locals, who would stay with the gear. Janr was the most visible spooked of all the natives, still, so Enuti thought it best he remained outside. Beneli would go with him and whoever else was traveling into the ruins with the Professor. Just because they had sorted out that their demons were not actually such did not mean that they could back out now.

He turned to the other four members of the expedition, the Professor, Logan, Miss Craven, and the ibbari. “Beneli and I will accompany whoever enters the ruins.” He assumed, from the expressions on their faces, that the two former students would be going with Moran, but he was unsure of the man with the elephant gun.

Sui trembled. "I - I would like to stay here," he replied." It was absolutely true - he'd been attacked by giant killer death birds, giant demon cats, and now they were on the trail of an escaped First World demon. If he had any hope of making it back to civilisation on his own he'd probably flee screaming into the jungle ... but he knew there wasn't any.

"I would like to stay here," he repeated. "But if - if this thing is incorporeal, I think you might need me. I'm not a good priest, but I think I can perform an exorcism well enough."

Moran nodded to Enuti, trusting the native to properly assign his companions the correct duties. No sense in pushing the issue. Obviously, Tara would come with, this was the culmination of her expedition, after all. Despite the friction between them, he wouldn't dream of denying her this. He wasn't particularly surprized about Logan either, even if he didn't relish the thought of bringing him alone; he still had a bit too much spoiled-rich-kid in him.

Sui was a wildcard. Moran had almost forgotten that the shamen was with them, but his knowledge of the local lore was indeed valuable. His fear was perfectly understandable. Moran was very familiar with that sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach, the hairs raising on the back of the neck, sweat popping out from the first available pore, oh yes, he was most certainly familiar. He walked over to Sui, resting a hand on the shamen's shoulder, "You probably know more about this thing than any of us, and I would appretiate it if you came with." He smiled a little, showing a level of social grace that he rarely possessed, "If you truly want to stay here, that is fine, but your assistance would be invaluable."

He jumped when Moran slapped a hand down on his shoulder. I really am a bag of nerves right now.

"If you need me -" He swallowed, and started again. "If you need my help, I'll help you. Like I said, you probably will."

Tara looked on, watching as the party got sorted into who was and was not coming into the temple. She was not relishing the thought of what they would find inside. An image of her father’s broken body appeared before her, showing exactly what could happen to any one of them. Swallowing hard, she forced the thought deep inside, knowing that now was not the time to be distracted by such things. She could feel her body shiver, which had nothing to do with the temperature around them.

* * * * *

Logan, though he seemed pensive, was full of excitement. He had only read and seen pictures of such places, and had heard the tales of dark and powerful things that resided inside. Despite everything he had heard and seen on the journey, he held no fear. Fear had been finding Brick’s body, knowing that he was on his own. What stood before him was not to be feared. It was to be savoured and appreciated for what it was; a glorious monument to the worship of some powerful being, but nothing more than rocks.

He turned to look at Moran and Sui. They seemed to be in the middle of a discussion, which meant that he would have to wait before he could speak to the professor. He knew that Moran was not overly taken by him, he had known it from way back in the University, when he had blanked the young man for the attention of Tara. How things had changed there. Now the professor could hardly bring himself to talk to the young woman.

His eyes wandered to Tara. He had like her from the moment she had appeared, even if she had been almost as unfriendly as the professor had been. But she had talked to him, and he still did not give up hope that he could have her. He got everything else he wanted, didn’t he? With Moran out of favour it would only be a matter of time that she came to him as a shoulder to cry on, and then who knew what would happen.

* * * * *

Tara could feel Logan’s eye upon on her, which caused her to shiver again. There was something different about him. Then again there was something different about all of them. They had lost so much and for what? To be stood outside a temple that could possibly take even more of their lives. Once again she buried the thought as quickly as it had appeared.

“Are we ready, Professor?” She asked Moran, as she neared him and Sui.

Moran smiled at Sui, "Thank you."

He glanced up at Tara, "Yes, I believe we are." He glanced briefly at the temple before addressing the group in general, "Since we're now in my area of specialization, I will take point, followed by Tara." He smirked a little, "I'm sure you remember the 'joys' of exploring temples like this. I would like Sui in the middle with Logan. Enuti, you and Beneli can cover the rear." He cast his eyes over the assembled group, "If there are no objections, we can get started."

-----

Closer and closer… it could feel the power of its home crying out. Once they reached the crypt, it could regain its full power. And once it had full power, revenge could be taken.

Revenge against ignorant shaman who cast out demons.

Revenge against arrogant professors.

Revenge against brutal savages who slaughtered friends.

And, if needed, revenge against haughty bitches who mocked and laughed.

All this and more it would grant to its host. They just needed to get inside…

-----

The great stone doors to the temple had been wrenched open and bore a spider web of cracks along their surface; their angle made it seem as if they had been forced from the inside however. There was a high vaulted ceiling in the first antechamber, completely incongruous with the time period that this temple must have been constructed in. The faint green stone pillars reached up, supporting the remains the upper floor. They were bone dry to the touch and covered in disturbing carvings and friezes of strange proto-humans, blood sacrifices, and black clouds of doom looming over terrified citizens. There were no tapestries or textiles of any sort in the room, and no visible remains of such; no only was there no such remains, but the beams from their flashlights didn't even reveal any dust, nor was there any on the floor.

The lack of dust or other signs of age were far from the most disturbing aspect of the floor. The floor, a series of stone tiles, formed into perfectly interlocking octagons, the physical impossibility giving it a hauntingly hypnotic look. The entire building reeked of death and decay, despite the strange lack of evidence for such a conclusion. Still, this was not a simple building to a cult that offered up human sacrifices; this building had been used by a diseased, blasphemous cabal whose presence was a curse to the surrounding land.

There were also no windows in the accursed ruin; none on the walls, not even a decorative window at the end of the hall. Judging by the architectural ability shown by the ceiling, it was inconceivable that they would be unable to place windows in the walls, so they were either unable to work glass or had no interest in doing so. The former was highly unlikely, and the latter mildly disturbing in its own right.

There was little of interest on the first floor of the church. The upper level also appeared to be heavily damaged, and unlikely to hold much either. Towards the north-east side of the building was another crumbled stone door that once blocked a yawning staircase that looked every bit a mouth into Hell. The steps were of roughly hewn stone; the run and rise of the steps were strangely wrong. They didn't follow a standard rise/run ratio, they seemed somehow more chaotic and uneven.


Moran frowned as the moved through the building and frowned even more as they reached the large stone steps. He played his light down the stairway, sighing as it didn't seem to reach the bottom. Very carefully he started working his way down into the bowels of the temple.

Sui was unsettled by the carvings, for no reason he could define; after all, the priesthood still conducted sacrifices of criminals in Kuitao, and the First World contained far more horrible things than the ones depicted here. It was probably the fact that there was a very real chance of them being here instead of there; and then they'd die, and probably see all those things first-hand.

Fumbling through his pockets, he located the meager equipment he had avaliable, if he needed to perform an exorcism; the bottle of saffron spice, the little chain of jades, warding glyphs on green jade tiles and bronze scorpion-beads. The final bead was precious red jade; a proper priest back in Rei-Sareng would have more of the holy red, less of the green. A Red Jade Lord like Teng-Hau would have entire chains of it, looping around his shoulders ... a Red Jade Lord would have all the resources of the temple to draw upon. He wished Teng-Hau was here with all those resources, instead of him.

The ruins, as soon as they approached them, seemed instantly oppressive, feeling like they were pressing down on the soul, threatening to take you in and refuse to let you out again. As she wandered through the building, Tara flicked her eyes around her, feeling herself back in another place, another time. Her fingers brushed lightly over markings on the wall, almost checking to see whether or not they were for real. She shivered, the air feeling deathly cool against her skin.

She followed silently, this time near the front of the group, which just Moran before her. Logan walked behind her, his presence almost as menacing as the building itself. She felt as if his breath was aiding the chilling of her body, but she did not look around, there was too much before her that needed her attention, and she was more fearful of what lay in front of them than what was following behind.

Stopping at they reached the steps, she peered cautiously down the darkened path. None of the group spoke, it was silent. Deathly silent. The whole place felt like walking in a crypt, the cool air, the feeling of the total non-existence of life. Her feet crunched against the ground, where parts of the ceiling and walls had crumbled slightly over the years, almost causing her to jump.

Behind her, Logan was equally interested in the stone steps, feeling the desire to follow them down into the dark depths of Hell or whatever lay waiting for them at the bottom. The cold chill invigorated him, brought him more alive than he had felt during the whole trip.

As the Moran started to descend, Logan brushed passed Tara and spoke to Moran, his voice low and reverent. “Can you feel the death, Professor?” His words echoed softly around them. “Is this where Craven came before he died?”

His words caused a shiver to run up Tara’s spine.

Deciding that his rifle would be of little use to him in the closer confines of the ruins, Enuti left it with Janr, and got out the gear he figured he would need once inside. Two small flashlights went into a tight strap on his right wrist, and the comfortable weight of his pistol settled into his hand once more.

Scanning left and right as they drifted slowly through the ruins and entered the temple, Enuti and Beneli, who was equipped similar, albeit with his crossbow rather than a pistol, remained on high alert near the back of the group. Once in the temple, the feelings of unease increased quickly, the oppressive presence gripping them in a fearsome embrace. Muttering in his native tongue, Beneli warned his friend softly. “Can you feel it? The gods have forsaken this place.”

Enuti, on the other hand, was quite aware of this, the dryness of the air and the lack of dust creating a surreal calm in the air, the only sound that of footsteps on the giant flagstones and slow, nervous breathing.

Neither of the two natives bothered to examine the runes and carvings that would have been meaningless to them anyway, instead merely looking around at the empty building, impressive in its size and complexity.

How many have died here, I wonder? If his first thought made Enuti shudder slightly, the next was worse. How many more will?

As they moved towards the staircase, the tightening feeling in Enuti’s gut grew stronger and stronger, and he tried valiantly to shake it off. But as the Professor started on the steps, and Logan spoke, Enuti knew something bad was about to happen, something more horrible than had happened to them yet, the chill tightening its grip on his body and mind…

As darkness pervaded the physical world and swallowed up the team, a blackness wrapped around Enuti’s heart, and he was afraid.

What they would meet in here, whatever it was, he suddenly became convinced that all the bullets he had would not be enough.

Moran barely spared a glance at Logan, quietly shushing him. This was not the place for conversation, nor was Logan's apparent attempts welcome. Of course, this probably was where Prof. Craven had met with the entity that eventually ended his life, but there was no need to sound so eager about it. If Moran had wondered about Logan's stability before, he was definitely concerned now.

The stairs slowly meandered their way into the earth, twisting and turning as if guided by some fevered proto-human hand. The dry atmosphere seemed to absorb the light from their flashlights, giving them minimal visibility, despite nothing visible to cause such interference. The twisting and irregular nature of the stairs made it difficult to tell how far underground they had traveled. Moran found himself wondering how Craven had possibly made his way back up these steps.

The stairs disgorged them in a small grotto with leering stalagmites and looming stalactites. There were more carvings in the wall, but shockingly, very little at all. It was large enough for everyone to stand in, but only just. Moran paused briefly to examine the carvings, shaking his head slowly. This was no demi-human script, this was the accursed tongue of daemons and outer things that were best left buried. He looked over the Xothic script and shuddered, seeing references to nebulous creatures that flew through the air and once warred with a race that possessed giant cone-like bodies. The runes were vague; however, and it was difficult to tell if this was general information or a direct warning.

Warning or not, their path was obvious: the only other exit was another set of stairs going further down. While the previous stairway was awkward, it still had vestiges of humanity too it – however warped they might have been. This new stairway was decidedly unwholesome. The steps, such as they were, didn't look carved so much as worn into existence. It was so smooth as to be little more than an inclined and winding plane. There were no handrails or supports, so Moran was reduced to gently touching the wall as he made his way down. It was this tentative touching that allowed Moran to make a discovery even more disturbing than the geometrically impossible tile up above. The walls were hewn, and by the direction of the strokes, it was worked from beneath. Moran suppressed a shudder, not wanting to disturb the group any more than they likely already were. It opened into a mammoth cavern, the ceiling reaching too far to be seen. The feeling of dread in the surrounding area clearly came from the crypt they now found themselves in.

The cavern was hewn from the strange greenish rock as the temple that squatted above. Set into the walls were a series of grotesque and inhuman statues; they were leprous things with sores carved into their stone bodies. They were hunched over, balanced on three bulbous legs; long barrel chests supported two arms that would have looked proper on something twice their height. Perched atop their muscled shoulders was what could only be described as their heads, even as it looked like a melted thing with massive jaws. There were several dozen of these things keeping silent watch on the outer perimeter. How they could see what was in the center of the cavern was completely unknown, given the size of the cave and the strange light dampening of the air.

The center of the cavern was a gradual depression, the easy slope from the side almost akin to the affect seen when a heavy weight is placed in the center of a soft bed: easy and light on the outer edges, greatly increased at the middle. The weight in question, seeming to push down on the greenish stone was a titanic sarcophagus.

This was no ornate Egyptian coffin; it was an almost shockingly plain stone box. While it bore no decoration fitting for a king, or even a pauper, its purpose was unmistakable even to the most uninitiated into the strange world it was spawned from. This was no vessel for the dead; it was a prison for something that should not be free. Warnings and symbols were carved into the heart of the stone, designed to keep the thing and its servitors from freeing it. The Elder Sign was carved on all sides, and while that eldritch sign was just as unwholesome, it was repellant to other unwholesome things. This was an evil thing that was rightly banished to these stygian depths; a thing that should not be allowed to run rampant; imprisoned in a stone sarcophagus created solely to contain it.

And the top had been pushed back.

Sui shuddered and turned away from the nightmarish guardian-idols. I've seen worse, he thought, searching for calm. I know there is worse. These are just little things, really.

It didn't help. After all, compared to these he was just a little thing, the most insignificant of beasts; he could no more hope to challenge such things than maggots could challenge men.

I am a priest, he reminded himself. I have seen, I have learned, I embody the true faith and the proper way. I am correct in action and correct in thought.

It wasn't very true, but it helped a little. I am dead already, he continued. The Second World holds no fear for me. That wasn't true at all.

"First Gods," he whispered, "What is this place?"

Although he'd said it quietly, it came back a thousandfold, an indistinct, booming sussuration. His hand went again for the chain of jades.

Stepping into the chamber, Tara shivered as a strange chill swept over her body. Whether the air was indeed cold or whether it was the feeling of fear that spread over her, she could not say. But goosebumps appeared on her exposed skin as a shiver raced up her spin. Her eyes, while this feeling distracted her slightly, worked their way around her, seeking out clues as to what this place had been built to worship and protect.

With a start, her gaze fell upon the open sarcophagus, the image alarming. Her feet became magically rooted to the ground and her breaths rose in steadily quickening pace. Her mind began to work overtime, displaying before her – in her mind’s eye – the beast that had crawled out of the stone tomb and had left the chamber feeling cold and deathlike.

Several times she opened her mouth to speak, but no words emerged. This was not the time to put her thoughts into words. Her questions could be answered when the Professor was not so focused. The last thing she wanted was to distract Moran from his task. She did not want all their blood on her hands.

Logan, on the other hand, looked upon the scene with silent respect, his eyes picking out things that seemed oddly familiar to him, while at the same time, seemed so very different. He left his spot near the group, and began a slow circle around the open stone coffin, his fingers lightly brushing over the rim, caressing its shape as if in wonder.

He looked up, his eyes picking out each of the others in the party, watching as they all stared into the mouth of Hell and not liking what they saw. His eyes had become intense, more focused than before, as he looked at Moran, waiting for the great man to lead them in their duties.

The darkness drew about Enuti and Beneli like a cloak, sucking them, their dark skin blending into the eternal shadows where the lights did not shine. The two of them moved by feel and instinct, more than twenty years of the inky jungle nights giving them sound footing despite their inability to visualize the area in which their feet landed.

The massive sentinels arrayed about the vaulted crypt cried out in mute horror, the very reality of their night terrors, the demons of their jungle legends and nightmares. Light gleamed in obsidian eyes as the two natives looked on with horror at the monstrosities they now confronted. Shadows rolled across the stone surfaces of the unnatural cavern and the rasp of metal on leather gave away Enuti’s paranoia.

Further soft clicks showed the Beneli echoed his friend’s fear as each step carried them further into that abyss of despair, the place of death. The clattering of ivory on stone drew lights downwards, and Beneli muttered a soft prayer as he observed what he had tripped on.

A human femur. Or, at least, it had been once the top half of the body’s strongest bone. It did not look broken in any conventional sense, though it was sheared oddly along one side and the stress patterns indicated that only a great forces could have pulled that bone apart as it was.

Enuti shivered at the idea, his eyes roving enquiringly across the silent, shadowy forms. But no answers were forthcoming from their foreboding presence. He turned back to watch the three scientists, and frowned as Logan reached out to touch the coffin. “I wouldn’t…”

Too late. Enuti let his gaze drift over to the shadow that was the Professor, seeking instructions from him, as he heard Beneli behind him moving in a rough arc to patrol the perimeter between the fascinating and horrible statues and the rest of the group.

Logan looked at Enuti as he spoke his warning, but by then it was too late, and those around him might have noticed a determination in his eyes which may have made them doubt whether he would have stopped or not, even if he had been warned sooner. Moving his hand quickly, as if he had been burnt by the touch, the young man looked around him at his companions, his gaze taking on a strange hew, as he suddenly appeared to have realised that he had just done something extremely bad.

His eyes met the professor’s; a glint of guilt on the surface, but beneath there was something totally in contrast. He took a step back from the coffin like stone box and lowered his eyes to the interior, as if seeing it for the first time. A shudder spread over his body, as he continued to retreat from the centre of the room, trying to get as much distance between him and the rest of the group.

Almost jumping at Eunti’s words, Tara stared in horror as the events unfolded around her. Logan had been acting strange since they had arrived at the temple and the latest fool move that he had made her want to shake him furiously to knock some sense into him. He had not been working well with the party so far, but now it was as if he was someone else.

Putting down his stupidity to the horrific things that had happened to them so far, she watched him retreat, obviously realising his error. She looked at the others, Beneli, Sui, Enuti and Moran, her eyes lingering longest on the professor, as she waited, like the rest of them to see what would happen. Somehow, she had the feeling that it was not going to be pleasant.

Dying is an art
Like everything else
~Scorn, "Beyond"

The touch had been brief, but was more than sufficient for the being's needs.

Ah... can you feel the power? Do you not feel restored? Look, even now my guardians come to my aid.

Oh, yes, it most certainly was a prison, but it is also my source, my power, much like a vampire's coffin. I twisted the magics used to imprison me; twisted the drive of those silent guardians. This is my sanctuary now.

And I will share my power with you. We will have our revenge against those who have worked such evil against you, and I will have revenge against the descendants of those who imprisoned me. We are joined in purpose and soul.

That oaf of a professor tried to refuse my gifts, and look at what happened to him! Do not make the same mistake. Together we will destroy and feed and will never need to return to this foul temple. Aid me and we will make the heavens shatter before us!

The being was at least partially telling the truth. As it 'spoke' to its vessel, the statues rumbled to life, moving slowly from their short pedestals, flexing their oversized arms and snapping their jaws with a sickening slopping sound; like ravenous beasts that needed warm flesh to slake their athirst. They moved with a strange, loping gait caused by their malformed bodies and three legs. They were awkward but unrelenting; bones crushed into powder beneath their clawed feet.

Moran glared at Logan, "Idiot!" He spared no more words for the young man, instead leaping to action. Even as he put his hands on the massive lid to the sarcophagus, he cried out to the natives, "Enuti! Try to slow them down. I don't care how, just do it! Tara! You help him." He stopped shouting briefly as he shoved the massive slab of stone back to seal the sarcophagus; the stone grating and shrieking in protest over being forced to move.

He turned to Sui, grabbing the priest, "Listen to me… I don't know the binding spells for this thing, so I need you to try. We don't know if this is the same thing as your legend, but it's the only straw we have to grasp. Do what you need and I'll help however I can," he drew his gun from his thigh holster, firing a round at one of the creatures, "For as long as we can, but if you can cast quickly: do it."

The creature gurgled as the slug tore through what might have been its shoulder. It seemed that the things were only in a stone form when they were dormant. Their true bodies were composed of a rubbery flesh that seemed to ripple and writhe on their bones. The bullet hadn't stopped the creature – barely slowed it down, even – but it seemed that they were susceptible to physical trauma, at least slightly. They also seemed to possess no concept of tactics as they simply lumbered forward like mindless automatons.

Moran glanced over at Logan, "If you plan on doing something helpful, now would be the time to start." As he fired another round at a different creature's head, he drew his machete with his off hand, setting it on the lid of the sarcophagus. He gave Sui a knowing look, "If you need blood to reactivate the wards let me know."

The statues moved, grating into horrible unlife. Sui screamed and felt his trousers go damp. He wanted to run but there was nowhere to run to; the monsters were all around them oh Gods help us!

"This is not braided hair," Sui told Moran, and shook. But he found the bottle of saffron spice and splashed it over his hands. Most of it spilt, but enough landed to stain his palms golden. Taking out the chain of jades, he held it between his thumbs and stretched his hands apart, palms inwards.

Thus armed, he turned towards the closest of the lumbering monstrosities, gritting his teeth as he tried to remember the words through panic and terror ...

"K'ans-Ch'ta! K'ans-Ch'taai! We the weak call upon You the mighty, Lords of the heavens, Lords of the Earth! We the sane call upon You the boundless, Lords of Nightmare, Lords of Dream! We the mortal call upon You the undying, Lords of the Quick, Lords of the Dead! We the green call upon You the red, Lords of the First World, Lords of the Second!

"We call upon You in this hour of our extremity, O Lords of All, Lords of Nothing, without - without doubt, or impious thought; take back your starveling child, and let us be! K'ans-Ch'ta! K'ans-Ch'taai!"

Tara looked at Moran as he told her and Enuti to try to stop the beasts that had come alive before them. Something told her that these would not be as easy to get rid of as the other creatures and horrors that had hampered their journey here. At least the others had been kind enough to roll over and die when they were shot. Her eyes were weird with fear, and for the first time on the expedition, she actually believed they would not return home again.

Retrieving her weapon, she lined up a shot and pumped a bullet into the soft flesh – if it could be called that – of one of the previously stone beasts. She stood opened mouthed, her gaze following the ripple as it spread over its skin. “How in the name of Hell are we going to stop these?” She murmured softly under her breath, unsure – if she had been asked – whether it had been only a thought or not. “Don’t let us die.”

* * * * *

Logan looked at the professor, his eyes blazing with anger. The man had always treated him like an imbecile. He had felt if from the moment he had first approached him all that time ago at the university. And now he wanted his help. He grinned to himself, pulling out his weapon and pointing it in the general direction of the creatures, but he did not fire. He stood and watched, his eyes fixed to them as they moved around the room, feeling the power that they had. His mind was full, distracting him from clear thoughts, the only one that seemed to get through was the fact that they were all going to die.

By the time Moran gave Enuti his orders, Enuti was already well past the listening stage. His first warning had been the strange grinding sound and the snapping ting of Beneli’s crossbow, even before Moran had fired.

As the Professor’s hand cannon roared the second time, Enuti’s pistol leveled out, his light shining directly in one of the creature’s eyes. Another snapping ting sounded as Beneli fired again. Then…

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Enuti rode the recoil up, letting his deeper magazine guide his use, three bullets walking up the centerline of the creature, the last one smack between its horrid, soulless eyes. That, unfortunately, just appeared to have made it somewhat madder at him, and it charged into a lumbering gait, attempting to crush the young native under its massive feet.

Waiting until the last second, Enuti lowered his gun, and then dove into a roll out of the way, coming up on one knee as the beast went past him. The gun spoke again, drilling two bullets into the back of its leg, at one of the odd bends he could only assume worked as a knee.

That at least prompted a roar, and thing seemed to waver slightly, and was limping as it turned back around. This was when Enuti’s marksmanship came into play. His next five shots when home in the same bend, each one tearing into the rippling flesh until it finally gave away, and the tripod balanced creature toppled to one side. He came up from the crouch and sighed.

Unfortuantely, that was only one of a dozen or even more of the demonic things, and he was down to three bullets in his ready magazine. As he turned at the sound of another crossbow bolt snapping out and tearing into one of the creatures, he shouted in horror, “Beneli! Behind you!”

His gun came up, and the bullets flew, but they were too slow, and too few. They pounded into the bends of the creature’s legs, slowing it only briefly, giving a reloading Beneli time to turn around to face the impending doom that was about to crush him. The other, stockier native had time to pull and knife, slashing at the legs of the creature before one massive leg slammed him into the floor with a sickening crunch, a massive fist coming downward at unthinkable velocity towards the native too injured to scream in pain.

Enuti saw red as blood splattered from black skin rent by bone and demonic strength. His reloaded gun came up, and fifteen bullets flew, shattering the flesh of a demon over and over again, slamming into legs near the maddening bends until they gave out again. “Go for the knees!” he finally shouted.

There was no time for him to reload again as the things came on, and with the rasp of metal on leather, his machete was drawn, wielded like a sword, his body dropped into a ready crouch as a knife drifted into his other hand, flashlight clattering to the floor, rolling about and sending strange shadows skittering across the walls of the cavern.

Moran smirked at Sui, "Dead men complain of rules; survivors improvise." Seeing that the priest was starting his incantation, he frowned a little, wondering if it would work. He moved closer to the sarcophagus, examining it as he would have had Logan not fucked everything up by touching the thing. Idiot boy claimed to have read the professor's works, including the ones written under his pen name. You'd think he'd have more sense than to touch things.

He was only vaguely aware of the events around him: the (seemingly) soft chanting of Sui, the crack of gunfire, shouts and cries. He tried to tune them out, as he tried a quick and dirty translation of the engravings. He would have preferred to take his time, but that clearly wasn't an option. He traced his finger over the flaming eye that made up the center of the Elder Sign on the sarcophagus. If this was truly to bind a spirit, he should be able to feel something. Power, or burning, or some hint that it still pulsed with life. Instead, it felt like charred bone and pus -- What a charming image, Daniel -- it was corrupted and dead.

Looking up, he noticed Sui chanting, and seeming to have some affect. In his mind's eye, he could see gossamer lines emanating from the priest and trying to gain purchase on the sarcophagus to seal it. He also noticed that the guardians turned their focus to others, as if they didn't want to touch him – Well, at least someone's protected. Tara and Enuti were fighting much as he expected, Logan was, well, he wasn't quite sure. It looked like his former student was fighting, but it was hard to tell. No matter. More important things to worry about. He wasn't sure where the other native was, but it was rather difficult to see. He assumed the man was outside his limited range of vision.

It seemed that the spirit had corrupted the binding magic on the sarcophagus, which was why Sui's spell wasn't working as it should. The simple solution, therefore, was to reinvigorate the Elder Sign. The bastard things took forever to prepare, but since it had been done once, it should be a simple matter of recasting. And, of course, respelling blood. He was reaching for the machete when he felt powerful arms wrap around him, trying to crush the life out of him.

"Fuck!" He'd been so wrapped up in the sarcophagus, he'd completely forgotten that they had been surrounded by monsters. He felt his arms being crushed against his ribs, the bones starting to bend from the tremendous pressure. The thing lifted him from the ground, squeezing tighter as he struggled, trying desperately to gain some form of leverage.

What the monster didn't know, and didn't have the capacity to know, was that the man it was trying to crush into jelly was an acolyte of a much older patron. A patron that rarely chose followers, and those it did choose, it granted potent gifts; not the least of which was the impressive strength Moran had already demonstrated. With a growl that sounded more irritated than anything, Moran forced his arms apart; and action that would have surprised the creature had there been any intelligence in its fungoid head. A slight miscalculation on Moran's part meant that as he freed himself, he fell to the ground.

Moran vaguely heard Enuti's cry of what their target should be, but he had reached that conclusion already; even though for entirely different reasons.

He grabbed the blubbery leg nearest to him, pounding on the articulated joint; the 'knee'. The creature attempted to finish off Moran as its brother had Beneli: a pummeling blow from its massive fist. Moran rolled to the side as the fist slammed into the floor, sending up a small shower of pulverized stone. He stood, grabbing his machete as he did, and with one powerful blow, didn't so much as severe the thing's foul head as he cleaved it in half.

A gout of black ichor erupted from the wound, splattering all over the top of the sarcophagus. Much to Moran's shock, the creature straightened up and backhanded him with one of its massive arms, sending him sprawling. He managed to raise to his knees, quickly shouting out a series of barking syllables in the cursed Xothic tongue. He looked to Sui, "I hope you're almost finished…"

Tara screamed as she watched Beneli get taken down, fortunately she did not have too long to dwell on the scene as her attention was once more focused on the stone beasts that were prowling around the room with deadly force. Her shaking hand, managed to follow Enuti’s instruction, and she amazingly hit at least one of the creature in the leg, not that she really had time to assess her success as there was little time to stand and congratulate the straightness of aim before another looming statue of doom headed towards her.

She just stopped from being smacked across the back, with a series of quicksteps that brought you behind her near fatal inducing adversary, and let a bullet rip, needing several bullets before she lined a bullet up to actually hit the strange flesh on its leg, though it merely scratched the surface, leaving a visible mark, irritating the beast more than she managed to slow it down.

“Professor!” Tara shouted, her eyes fixed on the beasts around her, ensuring she did not get caught out again. “I don’t think we can hold them much longer!” Her voice was full of fright, as she once more spun around to find the next holder – hopefully – of her bullet.

* * * * *

Logan, his arm raised but doing nothing that holding the gun before him, watched with interested eyes as Beneli was knocked down and crushed by one of the stone creatures. His eyes flashed with a moment of victory as one of Brick’s killers was sent into the other world, and with a menacing grin on his face, he hoped that he had suffered as Logan’s surrogate father had suffered. His fingers momentarily wrapped around the dog tags that had belonged to his friend.

Continuing with his ruse, he let off a shot, sending it ricocheting against the sarcophagus, missing the two members of the party who were nearby. He could not kill them, not yet and not so obviously, but if the stone creatures could do their master’s bidding he might not have to get his hands dirty. But he would if any managed to leave the temple, he and his master would see to it.

"It's - it's not working!" Sui cried, terrified. Had the gods turned their faces from him? Or towards him? Could they not see so far as this benighted corner of the world? They can see everywhere, he reminded himself, [i]Even here.

"K'ans-Ch'ta! K'ans-Ch'taai!" he began again, desperate. He didn't know any other method. "We the weak call upon You the mighty, Lords of the Heavens, lords of the Earth!"

The sarcophagus errupted in an unholy, sickly green light, the eye in the center of the star on top seeming to errupt in flame. The creature that Moran had mutilated make the mistake of accidentally touching the sarcophagus and immediately burst into flames. It was consumed in seconds, falling to the ground in a pile of ash.

In Moran's mind's eye, he saw the red strands from Sui wrap around the sarcophagus, glowing brightly and tightening around the stone box. "Keep chanting, man! Don't stop!"

Another creature lumbered towards Moran who spun around, swinging the machete smoothly, slicing off its head and one of its arms. While the thing didn't stop moving, it was unable to see Moran, allowing him to move over to Sui.

He made a few passes with his hand, forming the Voorish Sign as he softly chanted counter to Sui, "Ia, Ia, Shub-Niggurath. Gth'k'ta, fthagn, Ia, Ia!" His voice rose in volume as Sui finished his chant again.

Time stopped.

The beads in Sui's hands flashed red hot, the strand holding them together disintigrating, much as the creature who touched the sarcophagus had. Moran and Sui felt some strange force rush through their body and the sarcophagus exploded in a blinding nova of light, leaving behind nothing more than a scortched mark on the ground and the stinging scent of death in the air.

Time resumed.

As did the creatures.

Moran snapped his fingers in front of Sui's face, bringing him back to reality and shouted to the others, "Run!" He glanced around to make sure that everyone had heard him, and started herding the group to the stairs, barking orders to just move and worry about the details later. He wasn't sure if that had made things better or worse -- the combination of his and Sui's brand of magic certainly had dramatic affect -- but he hoped that it was a good result. Right now, he didn't much care; one casualty was enough.

-----

The spirit screamed in rage, a horrible, blisteringly loud cry, an inhuman primal scream. It's phylactery had been obliterated, leaving it trapped in this meat bag. It had no way to heal itself after being injured.

It hissed in consternation. It's host would have to keep it powerful by killing other people. Preferably powerful people. Even more preferably, powerful people who had dared to stymie it and its ambitions.

This world would burn for this insult. It would burn.

The crotch of Sui's pants grew warm again as the sarcophagus burst into unnatural radiance.

Oh gods, oh Screaming One, here comes the First World -

But somehow he wasn't dead, and at Moran's shouted command he continued. "- Lords of Dream, lords of Nightmare -"

He screamed in pain and terror as the beads seared across his palms, scattering across the rocky floor, and his eyes juddered shut too slow to stop the blazing sarcophagus etching itself into his retinae in too-bright afterimages. Something that might have been an electric shock, might have been divine presence, might have been his bladder emptying a third time jolted through him, and then suddenly they were running, away from the empty space where the sarcophagus had been, away from it's monstrous guardians, away as fast as sheer terror could carry them.

That, Sui discovered later, was pretty damn fast.

As lost in the fight that she was, it did not take much for Moran’s words to infiltrate her brain, and for her feet to get the message. What seemed like only seconds later, Tara had turned away from the creature that had had her attention and was dashing, as fast as she could, in the direction they had originally entered. Her heart was beating hard in her chest as she took in a large lungful of air, almost gasping as her body fell into the pace required to carry her out of the underground room.

She was not sure what was happening, her brain was too busy to allow her to think. All she could do was listen for orders from the professor and carry them out to the best of her ability. He had saved them before, he would do it again, of that she had no doubt. Although, even if she could think, at present she would not want to, as what had happened in that coffin room was enough to give her even more nightmares for years to come. Even without thinking, the image of Beneli rose unbidden before her eyes.

But she would deal with that later. She would feel the added guilt that her search had claimed another life. Just not now. Now was not the time to dwell on what had happened, now was a time to deal with the danger that was hot on their tails.

* * * * *

Logan heard the professor call out, and stopped his pretence at firing, as he watched the other members of the group turn to leave. Inside he felt the boil of anger, unsure whether it was his own or the anger of the presence inside him. Not that it mattered, as soon both would be avenged. Already he was rejoicing that one member of the murderous group that had slain Brick was lying dead on the ground. The irony that he had been killed by a stone monster was not lost on the young man.

He followed the group, once more taking on the frightened façade of the Logan that they had known from the beginning of the trip, hiding for the time being the new Logan. The Logan who had nothing and no one to fear. With a slight sneer on his feature, the young man retreated, waiting for his time to come.

As the next beast charged him, Enuti took the opportunity to drop to the floor once more, rolling between its rapidly flailing legs as it attempted to crush him under massive, slab-like feet. His knife bought a pustulating score across the nearest leg, before his machete whipped out as his feet caught on the rough stones.

The razor sharp edge found the disgusting flesh and bit deep. And then deeper still as Enuti through his weight into it with a primal yell. It sheared through whatever bone supported the massive weight of the rock demon, and Enuti was spattered with gore as an unearthly scream shattered the air from the creature.

The impact shook the ground Enuti was standing on, and he spun, his face dripping, his eyes aflame with a primal madness. He was no longer defending, he was the attacker now.

He leapt at one of the creatures that had its back to him, his knife biting into the flesh, the machete doing the same as he used them to pull himself up it, stripping chunks of putrid flesh to the floor. Before leaping free, he made sure that the creature and its head parted ways, then it lost a leg as well, sending it crashing down.

In his blood enraged madness, he missed the hand that batted him like a toy across the room. He had a wonderful bird’s eye view of the exploding crypt as it swept by underneath. Flash blindness disabled him for a moment, and he dropped his weapons, not having any particular desire to land on them…

He hit the ground, rolling, and came to his knees. A sickening crunch sounded as the beast crushed his flashlight under its foot, and Enuti’s hands scrabbled around in the new shadow, seeking something.

Cold metal, a grip… he brought it to him, and thanked the gods that he had reloaded his pistol so many times by now that he could do it in his sleep, much less the dark.

The spike of flame shattered the darkness, as the chatter of his gunfire drowned out all sound, the bursts of light bringing to life the horrific remaining scene. That was when the Professor’s cry came…

The beast he was firing at fell, two knees damaged, and Enuti scooped up his weapons that were on the ground, sliding them into place. Another magazine found the chamber…

The monsters were now between him and the doorway.

They charged, massive footsteps shaking the ground still more and more, the low sound of their battle moans fit for the dead. The runner in Enuti froze for a moment, waiting for the one sound that could release him…

CRACK! His first gunshot shattered the restraint, and Enuti charged as well, firing on the run, long smooth steps carrying him towards the lumber monstrosities, his hand riding up and down with the recoil, his aim remaining level with each shot.

He kept running, his vision tunneling down, the barrel of his pistol an extension of his arm, guiding his vision…. He rolled through the crowd of monsters, and came back to his feet, still running…

“Faster!” he screamed, hearing the monsters still chasing him, lumbering around as he brought up the rear, moving towards the rest of the group with nearly inhuman speed.

Moran waited at the bottom of the stairs, trying to get everyone to run faster, and using his few remaining round to try and slow down the nearest of the beasts; his final shot ripping out the knee of one, making it tumble down. Once Enuti had run past him, he turned and started running after the group. Luckily, the already lumberous beasts were even slower on the stairs, letting the group quickly out-pace them.

As they neared the separation from the older, clawed stairs to the upper stair case, the monsters stopped, turned, and started making their way back down to the chamber, returning to their guard duty despite the sarcophagus' destruction.

Reaching the top of the steps, Tara was almost bent double, gasping in a lungful of air. It was not that she was unfit, but there was something about being chased by life taking monsters that managed to take her breath away. The sound of their footsteps disappearing into the distance filled her with a little ease. Standing straight, she allowed herself to look down the stairwell, seeing it clear.

She looked over at Moran. “What were those? And what brought them to life like that?” Her eyes flicked briefly to Logan, who was standing off to one side, hardly looking like he had broken a sweat. “They aren’t the demon, are they? They aren’t what killed my father.” She raised her hand to her forehead, her eyes closing as she remembered how they had killed Beneli. She turned her face to Enuti, unable to speak to him, but her eyes spoke enough for her sadness at his lost.

* * * * *

Logan stood away from the others, his eyes gazing over them as they caught their breath. He frowned, his eyes clouding over with what could only be described as loathing. Not that it remained for long, he knew better than to wear his feelings on his sleeve, or his face. He took out his gun, looking it over, using the time well to hide his lack of effort back in the cave. The beasts had been unsuccessful, but there was still hope yet…there was always hope.

Moran was panting softly, but not anywhere near as much as one might expect from a man of his aparent age. He calmly leaned against the wall, watching the stairs as he reloaded his revolver, "Good question." He snapped the cylinder into place and holstered the gun, "My guess? They were there to keep people from disturbing the spirit, which is why they attacked when the sarcophagus was touched." His thoughts on the relative intelligence of the person responsible, while unsaid, were pretty easy to figure out. "Once we left those gouged stairs, we were probably out of the area of patrol, so they let us go."

He sighed, glancing at Tara, "From what I can tell, Daniel and his men opened the sarcophagus and were attacked by the guardians. He probably was able to escape, but was the one who had been possessed. The rest of his team..." he let his voice trail off. The bones down below told the rest of that story. He closed his eyes for a minute, thinking a little before pulling out his last cigar, looking at it a moment and then putting it away. "I don't want to be overly optimistic, but I think we may be done. The spirit probably returned to the sarcophagus, which we bound and destroyed." He glanced at Sui, "That reminds me, are you okay?" After another brief pause, "If it didn't get back, its link to its powersource has been severed, so it should lose its grip on this world and fade away. Still..."

He quickly walked through the temple and looked out the door. Quite promptly, he then pulled his cigar back out and lit it, taking a deep drag and smiling, "The mist is fading."

* * * * *

Of course the mist is leaving. It was to keep things from our home. Since our home has been destroyed, there is no need for the mist. And once the mist is gone, so too will the be temple, stupid 'professor'.

Stupid professor doesn't realise that he is not dealing with the beings he is used to. Our home was a mere conveniance, nothing more. Blood and souls will provide more than enough food for us.

When we return to the village, we will show them. There will be much celebration, and much drinking. Foolish people will have their guard down. We will celebrate with them, and when they sleep, they will burn. Their screams will be the true celebration, and we will laugh as they die in hungry flames.

Just like our friend did.

Adrenaline.

Fight or flight.

Enuti was in shape. His breathing was barely increased, but his eyes were dark with unshed tears, pain he had buried to survive the last few minutes.

The pain was fuel. Fuel for rage. Logan would know about that, about the pain, the loss…

...the rage.

His skin gleaming with sweat, Enuti had yet to go into adrenaline shock, as he had experienced no comedown yet, the chemical still boiling through his blood, making him hyper alert, hyper fast, and very strong.

As Logan was about to find out about to his chagrin. Enuti exploded into motion once more, after a brief moment, but this time, not to defend his fellows or escape death. This time, his eyes blazed as dark as night, and muscles rippled under his taut black skin as violence in action made its move.

He slammed Logan into the wall, his arm pinning the larger, pale skinned young man literally off the ground, across the base of his neck, a slight roll upward able to crush his throat. Of course, that was less of a threat than the barrel of a pistol hovering less than an inch from the bridge of Logan’s nose.

The snarl in his voice was animalistic, elemental rage. “You little piece of fucking shit. You’re supposed to be trained in this kind of activity, and yet, you go and touch the fucking stone box. And Beneli, who was far more intelligent and useful than you, is dead, to save your scrawny white ass. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t give you another hole to breath out of right now, and maybe put a bullet in your skull, as it’s obviously not holding anything else.” Logan could no doubt see his finger tightening on the trigger…

Logan felt the air pushed out of his body, and before he could take in a breath to replace what had been lost, he felt pressure on his throat, causing him to gasp. But despite the discomfort he did not flinch, nor did he react when the native pulled out the gun and pressed it to his head. Instead, he met Enuti’s gaze, cold and blank, almost as if he was standing in the other man’s shoes repeating the words that he was being told.

“Enuti! No!” Tara’s voice resounded around the room, as she raced from her position by the professor, her eyes wide with horror. “This is not the way!” Her voice shook, unable to hide the fear that dwelt inside her. They had lost too many already and now was not the time to lose another. “Enuti, please, don’t do it.” Falling to a low, calm pitch, she stood beside the man’s left side. “Please, Enuti.”

Logan flicked his eyes briefly at Tara, before regaining the hold they had on Enuti’s face. He did not attempt to open his mouth, he knew now was not the time to talk, even if he did want to scream at the man before him that they were now in the same situation. The one had taken someone very dear to the other. Almost like an eye for an eye…almost. Logan would not be happy until the whole village had paid for what had happened to Brick, but this was a start.

The young woman stared at Enuti, willing him to put down the weapon. She had never been in that situation before, and could not find the right words to use, other than resorting to begging. She opened her mouth to speak several times, but nothing would come out. She suddenly wished that she had a god to ask for help, but in the circumstances, she was not sure he would want to venture to where they were standing at that moment.

"Enuti," Moran's voice was soft but forceful, "There's been quite enough blood spilt today." He calmly took a drag from his cigar, just watching the scene in front of him. At this point, action was unnecessary. He trusted Enuti to not simply blow a hole in Logan's face; if murder was on his mind, he wouldn't have waited, he would have simply done it. "Let's just get the fuck out of here, okay?"

Briefly, it did occur to Enuti that he was now in something of a similar position to Logan, having lost someone he cared about deeply, but it did not really matter at that precise moment.

The thought was shoved aside, as Enuti took a step back. “Well, perhaps not enough blood,” he glared at Logan, his pistol now about a foot from the young man’s face instead of pressed into his forehead, “but all that will be. I suggest that if we explore any of the other buildings, Mister Grey can wait outside so the cat doesn’t get killed. Again.” The last word was snarled angrily, and a sudden motion reversed the pistol in Enuti’s hand.

The barrel was hot against the flesh, tenderized by repeated recoil from the heavy battle below, but it only stayed in contact for a short time. He spun his arm around, spinning the gun again, to shove it back in its holster. “He’s not worth the bullet,” he muttered under his breath.

As he stalked away, brushing past the Professor angrily, he kept his hand near his gun, never once glancing back at Logan.

Once outside, he snarled in his native tongue, not waiting for the professor to confirm or deny that they would be exploring other buildings. “That’s it. Pack it up, we’re leaving.”

Logan stared after Enuti, his eyes boring into the back of the native’s head. A smile played about his lips, but he was not foolish enough to outwardly gloat at the failure of the man before him. He silently marked off these events as a victory; as he listened to Enuti shout his orders to the rest of the party. Logan was not sorry to know that they were leaving, as leaving was good. There was nothing to remain here for, and the greater distance that he put between the temple and himself, the closer he was to all out success in his mission.

When this mission had become all important, he could not tell, but now the thought of revenge was utmost in his mind. His eyes sparkled as his thoughts turned over and over, filled with scenes that he would never mention. Not yet anyway. Perhaps as the sole survivor talking to the authorities, then he would mention them, although they would not be exact to those in his head, but they would be close and they would be real.

“Professor?”

Tara’s voice broke through his thoughts as she approached Moran. If things worked out, he might get his revenge and his prize, but she would just be a bonus. If she had to die too, so be it. Logan would leave this jungle knowing those that had brought about the end to his friend would suffer the same way.

* * * * *

Tara reached Moran and frowned. “Is that it? We just leave?” She was not sure what she thought they would do when they got to the temple, but this seemed like running away. They had not finished what they had begun, and the thing that dwelt in the temple, was still somewhere. She met his eyes. “Please tell me we are not just leaving like this. That thing…that thing that killed my father could kill someone else.”

She turned towards Enuti, wishing she could find the words to express her sadness at his lost. Although she had not known Beneli that well, his death had struck her more than any of the others. Then her gaze move to Logan, a frown creasing her forehead. There was something strange about him; he seemed different somehow, almost like he had given up caring. She let her eyes linger for a moment, watching as he moved in a non-committed way to his belongings and began to gather them together.

Moran sighed, rubbing his temples. This was not how he had wanted this trip to end. He had lost local hires before, true, but there was something about the fire in Enuti that made him believe the native's words. He had been too busy working with Rei to try and bind or banish the spirit, that he wasn't really able to tell if Logan had been fighting or not. He didn't think that he had heard the loud report of Logan's gun, but it wasn't like there wasn't plenty of other noises at the time.

There was, of course, the matter of Logan having touched the sargophagus; a damnably stupid thing to do. Logan had said that he had read all of the Professor's works, including the 'fiction' he had written under his psuedonym. If that was the case, what could have possessed Logan to do something so stupid, even if it did seem to be a cliche? He found himself understanding Enuti's rage. As a much younger man, he had been in a similar situation, except that he had killed the man responsible.

Moran had been the junior member on a trip to explore a strange labyrinth that had been discovered in the mountains north of Chiba. It had been a difficult journey just to get there, and they soon found themselves lost in the maze. One of the other members had been responsible for mapping their progress, and marking the branches that the lead said were dangerous.

Unfortunately, Felton had screwed that up. Either by willfull idiocy, or just general ignorance, he had failed to keep accurate notes, and the team soon found themselves in the lair of some ancient horror that was beyond explination. Needless to say, fighting wasn't even part of the equation, they simply ran for their lives; the survivors desperately wishing they couldn't hear the screams of their slower companions.

A week later, when Moran had finally found his way out of the maze, he found Felton sitting and smoking as if nothing had happened, looking over some amulet he had managed to pick up at some point. Blinded with rage at the senseless deaths of the others, as well as Felton's seem lack of concern, Moran had pulled out his revolver and shot his fellow survivor square in the head.

It wasn't something that Moran talked about, ever, but it stayed with him, and tempered his actions in the future. While he fully understood the native's desire to kill Logan, he couldn't help but feel relieved that Enuti possessed more self control than Moran had, back on that wind blasted mountain.

Moran looked at Tara, his memories sliding back into place where they belonged. He gestured around the edge of the clearing, "I think it's over, Tara. Look: that mist is already evaporating. When Sui and I destroyed the sargophagus, we severed the entity's link to this world. The jungle's already reclaiming this place." He smiled, "Whatever that thing was, it's gone."

He sighed as he watched everyone packing up, "What's more, we don't have much of a choice, I'm afraid. Without Enuti and his men, it would just be you and me, and maybe Sui -- although he's still looking pretty rattled. I don't think our chances of making it back to the village without help are very good." He shook his head, "I'm sorry if I let you down."

"I - I don't think that's ever happened. Not like that."

Sui sat on a convenient rock, his head bowed. Sweat was cooling on his face; although he must have burnt off several kilograms since leaving the village, he was still by far the least fit member of the expedition.

"Something out of the First World like those things would need Red Jade Lords and Templars and days of consecration - I shouldn't have been able to do it at all. It's not possible."

OOC: "Rei" is your battleship. "Sui" is my priest. :P

Moran nodded, smoke slowly trailing from the corners of his mouth, "For what it's worth, I've never seen that either..." He sighed a little, "Thing is, we were both trying to bind or dismiss, or whatever. Normally, I would expect different forms of magic to be non-compatible, but it seems we had a synergistic effect here."

He looked at Sui, "I don't know how... er... advanced or adept you are, but you certainly are more powerful than a common person. For me, I have no way of knowing how I compare to others, but I'm no slouch either. My theory? Our methods combined -- albeit begrudgingly -- and had rather dramatic results. It also seems that you got most of the feedback," he winced, "sorry about that." He glanced around, "But I can't help but think we succeeded with the mist vanishing."

Was confusing nation and character name again... fixed >.<

Tara listened to Moran and shook her head. “You have not let me down, or my father.” She smiled sadly. “You have done everything possible, and you have ridded the world of the thing that killed him.” Her eyes fell on Sui. “You both have. Without you both and the rest of the party,” she looked at Enuti and Janr, who were busily packing up there things. “I would not have discovered what had happened to my father. I am more grateful than I could every find the words to say.” She seemed to sink in on herself. “I also regret bringing you all out here too. How can I ever make up for the lives that have been lost and the blood that has been split because of me?”

She lowered her eyes and turned away, unable to bring any more words to her lips. In her mind’s eye, she could still see the moment that Beneli was downed by the statue beast. As she wondered over to begin gathering her things together, she looked back at Enuti and Janr, wondering if they would ever forgive her for the loss of their friend.

Crouching beside her belongings, she began checking them to make sure everything she needed was inside. It was a moment before she noticed the shadow that had fallen over her. She looked up, just making out the face of Logan as he stood against the sun. “Logan.” She flicked a brief smile to her lips, then resumed her packing.

The young man crouched down beside her, smiling as his eyes rested on her face. “You really should not blame yourself.” He watched her as she rummaged around in her bag. “You could not predict what we would find at the end of the journey.”

“I know.” Tara smiled sadly, as she turned her face to his.

“Things will right themselves once we leave this place.” Logan’s gaze left her face, and moved around the other members of the party. “Everything shall be as it should, and all that has happened here will become a faint memory, slowly forgotten by everyone who was here, until nothing is remembered, not even in the words of a myth or legend.”

Tara laughed suddenly. “Maybe not in myth and legend, but I’m sure it will get a mention in the Professor’s next book.”

Logan looked over at Moran as he conversed with Sui. “Maybe, maybe not.” He looked back at Tara, his eyes deep and filled with something that she could not fathom. “Things do not always turn out the way you think they will, Tara, and sometimes you have to make a choice whether you want to remain on the same path or follow a new one.”

Shaking her head, Tara turned her attention once more to her belongings. “We all know what path we are about to take, Logan. The one back to the village and eventually The Hack.” She smiled to herself, seeing them all safely back at the campus, following their old routines. “You should finish packing, the others will want to leave as soon as we are ready.”

Logan rose to his feet, and looked down upon the young woman. “You only get one chance, Tara. Make sure you make the right choice.” He turned and walked away.

Watching as he left, Tara tried to work out exactly what the young man was talking about. She put it down to the jungle and the experiences they had gone through that were slowly getting to him. She looked briefly at the other members of the group, then quickly finished preparing for the return journey, as her mind continued to go over and over the conversation she had just had.

As soon as Enuti had reached the pile of packs, Janr had risen and joined him, and they had vanished off elsewhere into the ruins, Janr speaking quite animatedly.

When they returned, the dark look Enuti had given Logan was positive sunny compared to the expression Janr’s face. Enuti was also carrying all of Janr’s weapons, as well as his own. Enuti and Beneli had been close, but Enuti had been the one who went away to school.

Beneli and Janr, of the childhood friends, had stayed behind in the village. Now Beneli was dead, and it was fairly clear that Enuti had explained to Janr what had happened in the temple. Enuti padded softly up to the Professor and smiled grimly, even more beweaponed than normal.

“While we were in the temple, Janr found a large catamaran type canoe over there,” he waved his hand in the general direction of the river, “that we could ride down the river on and save days of journey back, I’m sure.” His gaze found Logan. “And no, he didn’t touch it.”

Logan had watched the two natives as they returned to the temple, and it was not hard to tell from their return that he had been a part of their conversation. His face remained still as they walked over to where the Professor was standing. He lowered his eyes back to his bags, but he remained focused on what they were saying, which though was quiet, it was still audible. The thought of making the journey back by boat was better than the alternative, which would require them to climb back up and down over the mountains.

Making one final check, he was happy that all his belongings were safely packed away, and he lifted his bags, ready to carry them out of there, and onto his final destination, where he would see all his plans come to fruition.

Moran largely just watched the group, feeling uneasy. The Priest's concerns about the banishment were beginning to gnaw at the back of his mind, and he couldn't help but wonder if maybe Sui was right. He was pretty sure that Sui was wrong, but he'd long ago learned that things were rarely as they seemed. This, combined with the cloud over Enuti and the tension between himself and Tara made him really dread the trip back. Even an uneventful one would not be pleasant.

He walked to his bags silently, his body almost running on autopilot and he thought about everything. He knelt down and reloaded his gun -- he'd clean it tonight -- and then quickly checked over his things. Everything seemed to be in order so he shouldered the load and followed Enuti towards the canoe. As he walked, he tried to remember what phase the moon was in. While Contact spells worked at any time, they worked better when certain stars were in the sky and when the moon was in the right phase. It would be tough enough without his tools, having everything stacked against him would make it damn near impossible.


In the boat, he was just as pensive, chewing on the stub of his extinguished cigar. He couldn't wait to get to the village. Hopefully a fresh meal and a bed that didn't come rolled up would help everyone's mood. If nothing else, it meant they were closer to getting out of this country and back to civilization. He'd been on plenty of trips, but none left as uneasy a feeling as this one.

The boat journey to Tara felt almost as long as the walk had been. There was so much tension in the air. The two natives were watching Logan as they expected him any moment to send the boat under. Not that she could blame them their suspicions, especially as they held the young man responsible for the death of their friend. Logan on the other hand seemed to pay little attention to the way they were looking at him. In fact, he seemed almost to be in a world of his own, practically looking through everyone as if they had suddenly all become transparent.

The priest and the professor remained quiet, each probably recalling the adventure they had been on, and replaying the events that had led them to that point in time. Tara had spent long moments revisiting events along their journey, some less pleasant than others. She felt a stinging in her arm, as one of the wounds she had picked up began to make itself known. Her eyes briefly focused on Moran, as she wondered whether the two of them would ever be able to go back to how they were. When she got back to the University, she would worry about the future of her friendship with the professor.

The trees and now familiar surroundings began to change and alter, growing less dense and intimidating. But despite the distance that was growing between them and the temple, there was a strange feeling in the air. One that she was finding hard to put her finger on. They had won, they had all seen that, they had reached the end and yet there was something niggling in the back of her mind that seemed to be screaming that it had yet to begin.

"I'm a priest," Sui said, "I've learned the words and used the jade" - no evidence of that now, the beads scattered across the floor of the nightmare cavern far below - "And I know what awaits us all after death ... but I'm not a very good priest. Synergy or no ..."

He shrugged. "I don't know. Perhaps it worked the way it should have. Perhaps not. I mean to ask the Red Jade Lords when I'm back in Kuitao - I don't intend to spend the rest of my life in that village. It's too close."

-----

The voyage downstream was rendered tedious by the palpable air of misery which hung miasmic about them all; the natives had lost a friend. Tara had no answers. Logan ... well, Logan had been surly before they reached the temple. No change there. Moran, whoever or whatever he was, was harder to read. Wherever his powers came from, the First World or the Second, they were not abilities the Temple in Kuitao would approve of.

For his own part, Sui was thoughtful. Nothing much had been gained, and much had come to nothing, on this journey; but somewhere at the end of it he'd come to the realisation that the gods cared not a whit for ka and ba and ña. People were little more than insects, locusts on Their world; begging Them for mercy did precious little good. And yet They could be stirred, by a gnat who knew where to bite; there was something worth pursuing ... but what was it all for? The Screaming One might break free tomorrow and destroy both Worlds; the souls, mortal and immortal, would be consumed eventually in the end, whether it took a short time or a long one.

Sui was coming to realise that he didn't care.

The downsteam journey was far quicker than the upstream one had been, taking no more than three and a half days before they debarked a half mile short of the waterfall and walked the rest of the way down from the plateau, their party, regrettably shrunk by two members as it stumbled back into the local village, and they bid farewell to those who had accompanied them so loyally and so well. Enuti talked with the tribal elders, as did Janr, and they gave a recounting of the young man’s deeds on the trip, how and what they had fought and the bravery he had shown.

The villagers would remember, and the boy would not be forgotten. The question became now, Enuti had realized, what Sui would choose to do. He knew the holy man had felt changed by the journey, but would he stay here, in his mission field assign by his own elders?

Would he return to those elders to give an accounting of what he had seen?

Enuti did not know, and so, placed the question to the priest, knowing that if Sui chose to return to give reports, he would be forced by circumstance to return with them on the much larger river craft that awaited them here at the highest point on the river, a craft that would return two friends, a broken group, a trio since childhood, home to their own village, where they would mourn Beneli at last.

"I am leaving," Sui replied, suprised by his own vehemence. "I will not stay in this country, right next door to ... that, for any longer than I must. The Red Jade Lords can disapprove all they wish, but there's no point in a mission here; this place is already lost!"

With difficulty he silenced himself, on the verge of spitting more hateful words regarding the jungle and all it's inhabitants - human and otherwise. Enuti was unfortunate enough to call this hellhole home, after all.

The trip wasn't pleasent. Moran tried to relax himself with meditations and prayers that he had learned, but they gave him little comfort -- there was a constant feeling of dread that enveloped him. Sui's words bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Like the priest, he was well aware of what was and what wasn't within his abilities, and a creature like the one they had supposedly faced should not have been destroyed like that. He didn't know how Sui's magic worked, but he knew how his did, and one did not banish beings with generic spells.

The Xothic arts were very specific. You didn't just send out a general supplication and hope that you got what you wanted, after all. If you wanted a byakhee, for instance, there was a specific chant that needed to be done in a specific type of place (forest), at a specific time of the day (night), specific time of the month (new moon), and with specific equipment (silver flute). None of those worked for summoning, say, a NightGaunt. You certainly could make a supplication to a being that had dominion over both creatures, but his -- its -- methods where wholly unique as well. Down in the cavern, he had simply made a generic supplication to Saint Toad, without the proper prep work, items, diagrams, and at the wrong time of the month. In theory, he should have accomplished nothing. His hope was that Sui's faith and magic had amplified his supplication and that his patron had still heard and still decided to act, but he wasn't convinced.

This made for an unwelcome situation. If the thing was still out there, he was leaving his task unfinished, and possibly made things worse. Still, he was convinced that he and Sui had done something; the sarcophagus wouldn't have exploded, and Sui's beads wouldn't have shattered if there wasn't some power at work. All things considered, it left Moran with a sinking feeling in his gut.

The social dynamic wasn't making him feel much better either. Logan was even more sulky than usual, things were strained with Tara (thrice damned fruit), Beneli was dead, and Enuti was probably still thinking murderous thoughts towards Logan. He may have lived through this trip, but he wasn't pleased with it by any stretch of the imagination.

- - - - -

He had been aimlessly wondering when he heard Sui's proclimation. With a saddened smile he approached the priest, "Sui... if you wish to come with us back to the Hack, you're more than welcome to do so."

Fortunately for everyone, the trip in the boat was over a lot quicker than the trek on foot had been. And the fact that they were travelling down stream made it easy on those whose turn it was to steer and row. And it was not long before the familiar sights and sound of the area surrounding the village began to be revealed.

Tara began to feel more relaxed as they moved further from the temple and back to the more reassuring village, despite what had happened when they were their before. Her eyes flicked between the occupants of the boat, each looking tired and weary. She knew how they felt. Her own body ached from head to foot, and being cramped in the boat had not helped matters. She was looking forward to feeling earth beneath her feet and letting her muscles stretch out and move.

As they drew nearer, the outlines of huts and people began to come into view. Finally revealing what she was beginning to dread, that there was life still around, that they had were the only ones left in some horrific nightmare. She felt a smile grow on her lips, something she could not remember doing for a while. This was one trip that she would be happy to return from and hopefully forget.

But despite everything, she felt more at peace than she had done in the last couple of years. Finally laying to rest her father, and getting to say goodbye was what this expedition had been all about for her. Yet the price that they had paid had been too high, and that weighed heavily on her conscience. The mixed emotions that she felt played on her and made her wish that she had remained at the University, still hoping that one day Professor Craven would walk back into her life.

The boat came to a stop, and the people slowly climbed out onto the bank. It was an effort for Tara not to collapse on the ground, her legs feeling stiff beneath her. But by some strength of will, she gathered her belongings and managed to remain on her feet. She was drawn by Sui’s words, and watched as Moran spoke to him, smiling to herself, grateful once again that the professor had been there to help when he was need. Her stomach churned as she once more realised that this trip had cost her more than she had really been willing to pay.

Turning away, she walked further into the village, trying to blot out memories of the trip, knowing that nothing would ever be the same again.

* * * * *

Logan took a step out of the boat, his mind instantly filling with images of the last time they had been there. The burnt remains of friend and bodyguard swan before his eyes. He could feel that change in his body, the anger once more building against the people who called the village home. He tightened his hold on his bag, as if he was wringing the life out of all those that had inflicted the pain that still tore at his insides.

His breath became ragged, deep and loud. He hated that place more than anything. Hated every hut, every person, everything that surrounded him. He wanted to see it suffer like he suffered. Moving slowly behind the others as he walked, his vision changed into one that made him smile. Yes, he knew what would make everything perfect again, the voice inside him once more chuckled in its agreement.

Sui considered Moran's offer; a part of him said he should report to the Temple in Kuitao, but another part said that the Red Jade Lords, with their ritual and their prophecy, no longer mattered. No matter that Sui knew the prophecies were true; he simply didn't care any more.

"I would like that," he replied finally. "Thank you."

The decision of the priest to accompany them further down the river had surprised Enuti to some extent, and the trip from the village at the base of the plateau to his home village had been, while not as swift as they could have wished, at least, disturbingly silent. He wondered, then experimented….

Not quite. He had actually said more words than he had fingers and toes since they left the strange city high in the demon infested jungle. But only a few more than that.

Still, it was nice to return home. A long discussion with the elders took place, as he and Janr related all that had happened. Due to Beneli’s loss, the visitors were excluded. They would be invited to join in more detailed questioning in the morning, during which each’s account would be added to the tribal records.

No, there was no information on the demons that attacked the village, not as such. They were not demons, but men. The elders were confused, and Enuti explained, for it took a long time, less from conversation with Logan than pieces he had assembled from discussing their journey (before the city) with Tara and Moran, and with the boat captain, what felt like a hundred years before…

It was well past dusk, nearly time for sleep when the council dismissed the two young men, and Enuti told Janr to sleep in his hut that night. He was going to go on a soul cleansing trip into the jungle. Janr and Beneli had shared a wing of the bachelor quarters, and while cramped for three, it would suit Logan, Moran, and Sui for one night until they left in the morning. Tara could stay with the other young women of the village.

Leading the three men into the small room, he indicated the first bed. “Professor, I’m sure Beneli would not have minded you taking his bed for the night, and Janr will not mind you taking his either, Ibbari.” He ignored Logan, brushing past him on the way out, and slamming the door shut with more than sufficient force that it would stay closed.

Being back in the village was a strange feeling. Moran couldn't shake the sensation that he was being looked at as if he was tainted, and he couldn't really blame the villagers. After all, he had come from out of nowhere, taken villagers on a quest to slay a demon, and come back with fewer than he'd left with. He felt a little tainted himself. In all honesty, he couldn't wait to get out of the jungle and back home. A long shower, a cup of real coffee, and a few nights in a real bed would do wonders.

Still, even a 'fake' bed, such as Beneli's, would suffice. It was a damn sight better than sharing a cave with a corpse. The thought made him shudder slightly. He sighed as he thought about how horribly he had handled the situation with Tara, and then to find the remains of her father so quickly afterward was difficult to digest. He could only imagine what Tara was going through. He desperatly wanted to make things up to her, or at least explain his actions, but even thinking about it made him lose his train of thought.

"I... er... yes. Thank you, Enuti. I'll... ah... see you in the morning then..." He had somewhat disconnected from everything around him and was more or less running on autopilot. He just couldn't think any more. He started to worry that he was hallucinating or something of the sort. Everywhere he looked, he saw death's heads, heard death rattles, and felt an undefined sense of dread. Especially when he looked at Logan.

Watching as the party took their separate routes, Tara followed behind the guide who was leading her to her own sleeping place. It seemed strange suddenly being back among women. As she walked through the village, she gazed upon the villagers as they prepared for the night. Watched couples and families, once more witnessed normal life. She had not been gone for long, but it seemed an age since she last saw normality.

Though with these views, she began to think of her own life back in The Hack, which did nothing to make her feel any better. She wanted desperately to get back to the life she knew, yet at the same time she knew that nothing would be the same. Her mother would finally be able to learn and come to terms with the fact that her father was not coming home, and Tara would be able to continue with her life, finally having reached some closure. Yet at the same time, she no longer had that which meant so much to her. Not wanting to go down that path, she pushed the thoughts of Professor Daniel Moran out of her head.

As she reached the door to the hut, she paused, looking back at the village. Her eyes flicked around as if seeing it for the first time. A shiver ran up her spine. She turned and followed the woman inside, grinning as she focused on the bed. Granted, it was not what she was used to back at home, but considering what she had been sleeping on, it looked like a five star hotel.

Dropping her things onto the floor, she perched herself on the bed indicated by the village woman. She thanked the woman and smiled, not sure how much the native understood her, but she was sure that a little nod and smile would be readable. Pulling off her boots, she groaned with relief as she stretched her toes, hoping that she would be able to get her boots back on in the morning. She lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, happy that they were halfway out of the Hell they had witnessed.

* * * * *

Logan did not flinch as Enuti brushed passed him. He waited for the native to leave before moving further into the hut. His eyes swept over Moran and Sui, before he dropped his belongings onto the floor. Things were different now. He no longer needed their respect, as soon they would be nothing more than a blink in his life. He searched through his bag, pulling out a t-shirt. He quickly removed the old shirt that bore witness to the ruckus they had experienced in the temple. He tossed the item on top of his bag, and pulled on the new, covering his body. The blackness of the material seemed to fit his mood better.

He looked over at Moran, who had barely spoken to him since they had entered the Temple. “Do you trust these people, Professor? Or do you think that it would be wise to set up a watch?” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Of course, Tara being so far away would make it hard to protect her, but I’m sure she would not be the first focus for an attack.” Of course, in the villagers place, he was not sure he would kill her straight away. She certainly had better uses that it would be such a shame to waste.

Moran paid little attention to Logan as the youth changed his clothes, externalizing his irritating internal emo/gothism. The professor was mentally running through a checklist of his 'devotionals' and if it was time to perform any of them. He decided that a simple, silent prayer would be best as he'd be sharing quarters. Besides, Saint Toad was one of the more apathetic gods around, and probably wouldn't even notice if he skipped it entirely.

He was exhausted from the trip, so he didn't feel like making many pre-sleep preperations, there would be plenty of time for that later. Instead he simply slipped off his boots and shirt, and stretched out on the bed -- flat on his back, fingers interlaced and resting on his stomach. He was about to close his eyes when Logan started talking.

"Trust? Trust is something that is earned, and I would say that Enuti has well earned my trust. He trusts his fellow villagers, and thus I trust them, and I see no reason not to." Logan's phrasing worried him a little, but he was a very light sleeper and knew that Logan didn't have the guts or convictions to try anything anyway.

It was absurdly dangerous to venture into the jungle beyond the lights of the small fires the village maintained throughout the night. And generally, it was considered to be mortally stupid to do so unarmed.

Enuti was not unarmed, though the small knife he bore with him might has well have not been there, for all the threat it was to the night terrors which stalked this jungle, terrors which Enuti had become more than intimately familiar with on this journey.

But the sacred knife was needed to carve into the soft jungle ground, and to get the blood he needed to see into his soul, which was currently drip, drip, dripping down his arm into the circle’s outline.

But then he inhaled the aroma of the crushed herbs, and the pain vanished, and white light descended over him…

Night had crept quickly over the village, sending it into darkness. Though for Logan the time had seemed to take an age until everything had begun to quieten down, as the villagers began to give up on the day and let sleep claim them. Of course, there was still noise around, the rustling of trees, the sound of animals that wandered safely through the night, and the odd person who kept watch, making sure that nothing attacked the village during the night.

He lay on the bed, whose he could not remember, nor did he really care. His mind was far removed from the darkness of the room he shared with the professor and the religious man. He waited, probably longer than he needed until he was sure that both of those with him were safely locked in dreams.

Slowly and quietly, he rose from his bed, his ears searching for signs of movement. His eyes, though more accustomed to the darkness, were not as reliable. Confident in the sounds of the gentle breathing that filled the room, he crept out of bed, carefully grabbing hold of his gun, which he had had the foresight to remove from his belongings earlier in the evening. He was taking no precautions. He had a mission to fulfil and he was not going to let something like the rustling of his sack draw attention to his motives.

He had a plan, one he had been making since they had left the Temple. The final details coming together as he lay awake on his bed. His vision had been oddly clear and as he wandered through the village in his minds eye, he could see everything crisp and clear, as if he was actually walking around outside. The voice in his head, his guide, had pointed out details that he would normally have missed, even after all the teachings he had received from his mentor and surrogate father, Brick. He paused for a moment, his fingers reaching inside his pocket, finding the cold metal dog tags that he had found in the village…how long ago?

Tucking his gun into its holster, he smiled as he felt the comforting weight on his body. He already knew his first course of action, there was nothing else he wanted more than to destroy the man that had become the bane of this journey. The one he blamed for killing his friend and the one who would pay the ultimate price. Enuti’s face flashed though his mind, causing a long agitated breath to escape from Logan’s lips. Once that man had joined Beneli, the rest would then meet their destiny.

Giving his companions one last look, Logan crept silently out of the hut, and moved silently through the village.

* * * * *

Tara turned over in her bed, finding it oddly difficult to get used to not sleeping on the ground. It was strange how quickly the body got used to working in a particular way. She was not helped by the strange images that swept through her mind every time she closed her eyes. Nightmares had been a common occurrence during this trip, and she had often replayed the things that had happened during their journey to the Temple, but this time it seemed that her mind was playing odd tricks on her, as a guide from a previous adventure kept coming into her mind, passing her a sword.

She looked about her, the darkness seemingly oppressive as it crushed about her, robbing her of even the gentle light that the ever present fires that littered the village offered. The night seemed darker than normal, as if some shadow was lingering over them still. She shook her head, willing her mind to vanquish the images that threatened to rob her of any sleep. Closing her eyes, she fluffed the bedding with her hands and tried once more to settle into sleep.

* * * * *

Logan knew his goal even though he would never really understand how he knew where it was. Since entering the village, he was shown nothing more than the main audience hall and the hut that he shared with the other members of the expedition, and yet, he knew exactly where Enuti would be spending the night. He crept though the village, remaining in shadows, confident that he would make it to his destination unhindered.

As he wandered, he made a note of the men standing around, guarding the village from the attack of the creatures that roamed the jungle. He could not help smiling to himself when he thought about their reaction when they realised that they had been looking the wrong way. He had to stop himself laughing out loud at the stupidity of those around him.

He finally reached the hut, and listened carefully for sounds coming from inside. Like everything around him, it came back deathly silent. He carefully crept inside, his eyes managing to make out everything inside, at least in silhouette. He could see a sleeping form filling the beds. The voice in his head screamed as it focused on the fact that it was not the one he wanted. Unconcerned for the moment, he searched silently through the belongings of Enuti, grabbing a couple of his rifles and leaving.

As he got outside, Logan paused, his eyes wandering around the dimly lit village, searching for the man who should have been sleeping in the empty cot. His teeth ground in frustration, as his plan began to fall apart. He was supposed to be the first that died. Not that it mattered what ordered they all perished in, as long as they all suffered and met the same fate as Brick. And they would all meet the same fate.

They must suffer how I suffered, Logan. Make they burn! His mentor stood, surrounded by the flames that licked skyward. The orange glow of the fire illuminated his features, allowing Logan to see the pain and anger that flashed over him. Kill them all!

The dead man’s voice ran out over the village, filling it. Logan looked around quickly, surprised not to see the villagers racing from their beds to investigate what had caused the disturbance. Of course, it would not be long before they were all aware of what was going on, but by then it would be too late.

Deep inside, he could feel the anger growing. He could feel it tearing up his insides. The anger had a voice, and it was speaking to him. The words were unknown and familiar, foreign and understandable. He looked about him, seeing all the huts that housed the younger men of the village, they would be first. He moved out into the open, standing just in front of the fire, Brick still shouting at him from within the flames.

One of the villagers on guard duty turned towards him, looking at him suspiciously. He took a step forward, but was suddenly engulfed in a ball of flames, as the fire towered into the sky before sending bolts of fire hurtling at each of the huts in turn, catching each of the structures instantly alight.

* * * * *

Tara opened her eyes, surprised to be able to see in the darkness. The sky outside seemed to be much brighter than it had been last time she had gazed around the room. It certainly did not feel like she had been asleep for hours, but the only reason for the sun to be up already would be for dawn to have broken. She rubbed her eyes, her brain feeling not at all refreshed from the sleep. She yawned sleepily, ready to once more let sleep claim her, when she heard the first screams fill the air. Instantly she imagined some of the demon beasts that lived in the surrounding jungle attacking the village.

Jumping out of bed, she quickly pulled on her shoes, hearing the others in the tent around the being pulled out of their sleep, all looking as equally confused as she felt. She reached over to the bags, pulling open the one that she knew her knife was in, blinking oddly at the strange glow that seemed to surround it. She stared at it for a moment, distracted from her actions by the strange aura that the weapon had glowing around it. It took another set of screams and shouts from outside before she tucked it away and made a grab for her gun.

* * * * *

Another of the village fires shot up into the air, sending a fiery beacon up into the air, before several more balls of flames burst through the village, each hitting its target with ease, be they human or building. Logan’s eyes shone in the orange glow that hung around the village. The voices of those trapped inside the burning huts filled the air with pain and anguish, but the young man remained unmoved as in each of the new fires the image of Brick appeared, shouting encouragement and begging to be avenged.

Around him the sky grew black, as if some shadow hung over the village. A shadow of death and destruction. Logan knew that it would not be long before Moran was woken by the noise, and it was time to play the final card.

Racing through the village, as around him each fire continue to blaze with his anger, Logan instinctively raced to the huts furthest from those that contained the young men. He had wandered near them on his first visit, had seen the young eyes of woman stare out of the doors as he walked by. This time, he cared not for their attention, as they too were going to die, just like all the others.

* * * * *

Tara dashed out of the hut and stopped, her eyes wide in horror as she saw the flames licking at the sky, throwing the false daylight around them. The screams had grown in strength, joined by the people around her who cried out in horror. She stood for a moment, just standing beside the hut, her brain in a whirl as she tried to decide what to do. In a moment, there was only one thing she could think of, she had to find the professor and the others, and help in any way she could.

She had only taken a few steps when she spotted the familiar form of Logan coming towards her. She raced over to him, glad to see someone she knew. “What’s happening?”

Logan pointed behind him. “Something’s attacking the village. Moran told me to make sure you were safe,” he replied, his eyes looking filled with concern. “He’s helping the villagers. He wanted me to take you to him.”

Tara nodded and grabbed Logan’s arm. “Is he alright?”

Logan let out a low sigh, his eyes flickering with anger, but Tara was too busy staring at the fires to notice. “Yes, he’s fine. Come on, I know he’s dying to know you are safe.”

He turned and headed back towards the middle of the village, heading for the hut that Moran and Sui were using. He had no doubt that they would be awake by now, probably searching for him. He raced slightly ahead, Tara following behind.

A splintering sound and a roar reared up behind them, as the fire that lighted their way followed the pattern of the others in the village and shot into the air, the heat reaching Tara and Logan, before a series of fireballs ploughed into the buildings and people around it.

Tara stopped, turning back as the screams of woman filled the air. “Logan! We have to help them!”

“There’s no time.” Logan raced back and grabbed hold of Tara, pulling her along, almost sending her crashing onto the ground.

“What are you doing?” Tara yelled, trying to free Logan’s grip from her arm, as his fingers dug deeper into her flesh.

“We’re about to meet our destiny.” He gave her a hefty tug as she tried to stop walking, fighting to free herself. His movements were halted as she fell onto the floor, but he merely dragged her back onto her feet.

Tara screamed, her legs scrapping against the ground. She could feel the tiny cuts well with blood. “Logan! Stop it! What are you doing?”

Logan did not answer, and left her to her protesting. As she scrabbled along behind him, one arm locked to his, she reached for her gun. But she was not quick enough, and it was with a cry of surprise that she felt the butt of his own gun smash into her face, causing her to let go of her own.

“Don’t make me kill you, bitch!” Logan screamed into her face, as he released her arm and grabbed her around the neck. “I have plans for you!”

“Logan, please…” Tara choked, trying to fight for air, her fingers frantically trying to break his hold.

Not removing his hand from around her throat, he continued to drag her through the village. Those around them that had not yet been killed by the fires were drastically trying to rescue those that were caught in the buildings. But the growing silence from within the wooden huts, that had turned into infernos instantly, revealed their efforts were failing.

Standing in the middle of the village, Logan stopped, Tara still held tightly. He shifted her position, placing her before him. “Professor! Professor Moran!” His voice rang out, oddly loud against the noises around him. “I have a present for you, Professor!”