Dima - grateful that Faolan accepted his response, at least for now - wants to look at the altar. Dima wants very much to look at the altar. And if it's true he doesn't quite trust the water, it seems there's no turning back from whatever waits for finding in this room.
So Dima moves to the edge of the water. Is there anything of note about it? Slash does he see anything iN the water?
[dm: The water, while murky, proves to be only about two feet deep. There doesn't seem to be anything in it.]
Dima looks at his companions, shakes his head, and steps into the water, moving toward the dais.
He'll draw his dagger as he does so.
<.>
Faolan puts out a hand and almost says 'Dima' to stop him from going across, but the word's almost existence throws him. Sen's looking at him oddly and he doesn't know what else to do, so he hurries to follow Dmitri toward the dais.
The ledges and central dais are five feet high, leaving the dais's surface three feet above the water; to properly see anything about the altar, Dima will need to find a way up.
<.>
He'd climb, but he's not so sure his climbing skills are up to par, and the rock looks wet. There might be a solve for this, something in his pack that might be of use, but in this moment's he become fixed on reaching the surface, and the nearest option at hand—
Lip ticking, he turns to Faolan. "Could you lend me a boost?"
<.>
Faolan frowns, clearly thinking this is a bad idea, but he still crouches and makes a step of his interlocked fingers for Dmitri - whom he lifts with ease.
<.>
"Thank you." It's what Dima manages - along with a cant of his head - before he takes that lift and draws up onto the platform.
<.>
As soon as Dima's feet touch the platform, the chanting rises once more as thirteen dark apparitions appear on the ledges overlooking the room.
Each one resembles a black-robed figure holding a torch, but the fires are black and seem to draw light INTO them. Where you would expect to see faces are voids.
"One must die!" they chant, over and over. "One must die! One must die!"
Sen, from across the water, shouts, "What the fuck did you two do?!" as Faolan scrambles to hoist himself up after Dmitri, worried now for the man's safety.
[INSIGHT/RELIG d: 16 r: 15 f: 19 s: 20]
Everyone at this point understands one thing about this situation: Faolan and Dmitri have to sacrifice a creature on the altar or face the cult's wrath. To count as a sacrifice, it must die on the altar.
<.>
Dima is going to attempt a query and speak to the figures: "To what end. Who is your 'Ancient One'?"
Dima is also going to cast Protection from Evil and Good on Faolan, with protection against Undead creatures.
Rin, meanwhile, is debating whether they can disguise themself as one of these spirits. And absolutely has shortsword and dagger in hand. They’ll move to stand by Sen, and will Message him: [ Yes or no: Would it fuck with them if we pretended to BE them? ]
<.>
Sen has absolutely no idea; this is somewhat terrifying, in his humble opinion. However, he's game to try, and says as much by way of a Message.
Faolan is looking around the room and running mental calculations.
About how many cultists he can count.
About what living creatures are in the space.
About what he's willing to do to free himself from this situation, because thirteen is far too many for them.
His gaze lands on Dmitri.
(No.)
And on the thieves across the water.
(No.)
And -
(No, no, no - ) (But it wouldn't really die.)
(It might not return to him, either.)
He looks to Dmitri again as though seeking answers.
(And maybe, looking lost.)
As for the question Dima tosses out: there's no response. Only their ceaseless, chanted demand.
<.>
Fuck’s sake.
This is the problem with cultists, and particularly those who don’t appear alive: They have one purpose only, and move, act, think as one.
Seeing Faolan’s expression, he shakes his head. Meaning, no, we aren’t giving them any of us, including the wolf. Meaning, no, we’ll find our way through this. And Messaging: [ Breathe, Faolan. There’s an answer. We’ll find it. ]
[ I’m not convinced one would be enough; they’ll take as many as they please. This won’t stop until we stop them. ]
And on the chance that this ritual works, there’s no telling what this group will unleash.
If only they knew something, knew anything about this cult's intent. There are guesses to be made; the letter suggests something vampiric, but this might go beyond the recipient of the letter's intentions. That the cultists are here - how long have they been down here? - suggests that something, some purpose or some magic, binds them— Or that they've all donned some arcane guise.
As Dima thinks, Rin's moving off into the shadows; they're going to cast Disguise Self in an attempt to mimic the cultists. They message Sen: [ I figure you'll be able to tell me apart; I'll be the short one.
Hey, let Faolan know what we're up to? I've got the shitlord. ]
And, to Dima: [ We're trying something. A disguise something, so don't worry if we disappear.
Also, try asking them about Walter. ]
<.>
Nothing happens. The words don't deter the chanting; the cult won't be denied.
Faolan huffs a tragic sound and offers softly, "Dmitri, if it's necessary - if it might help you escape with Rose and Thorn -"
He doesn't want to do it. The idea guts him, and he can feel the wolf's patient gaze on him from across the water. He could call it to him here -
Sen's voice interrupts his thoughts: [ Trying something. ]
He shakes his head and glances at the thieves just as they disappear.
Sen, meanwhile, is taking this a step further, and as Rin moves one way, he moves the other in his disguise. He'll attempt to attack and replace the nearest cultist.
<.>
It's gutting, that thought.
That he could risk sacrificing the children before he's even gotten them free of this house.
That he could agree to risking Faolan, or any part of him.
Dima shakes his head. [ They can't take all of us.
If I'm unable to go on, I'll need you to take them. Please. You'd be good with them; I know. ]
Rin, catching onto Sen's scheme, is going to try something similar— Though they've pulled out the wand, and are going to see about making a froggy cultist.
<.>
Faolan stares at Dima, utterly thrown by the implications of what he's saying.
That he would possibly let himself die before sacrificing Faolan's wolf.
He doesn't know what to do with that thought. (He doesn't want that thought.) (He can't live with it.) (Or without it, really.)
He shakes his head and looks away - in time to see Sen appear from the shadows and attempt to plunge a knife through one of the cultists, and Rin attempt to aim a wand at another.
Sen's knife plunges through the cultist.
Nothing happens when Rin points the wand.
Because the cultists, Faolan realizes, are only illusions.
"They're not real," he breathes, right as Sen shouts approximately the same thing, but with much more colorful wording.
<.>
Rin is not happy about this.
Well. They're happy no one needs to fight thirteen of these weird shits. They were just really hoping to see a frog.
They're going to wave a hand in front of one of the illusions: "Hello?"
Dima, keeping an eye on the... cultists, the illusions, is going to begin examining the dais, seeking any kind of clue regarding what the fuck is going on.
[dm: There's nothing new to be found on the dais, and the figment doesn't respond to Rin's hand or voice.]
Dima exhales his frustration— Well. Frustration and relief. They have no answer, but this, at least, is a positive turn. (He isn't going to think about what Faolan suggested.) (He isn't going to think about his own response.)
He rises and finds Faolan's eyes again. [ Off the dais, I think. I'm going to take a look at these illusions. ]
And, out loud, "There must be a source."
After ascertaining that Faolan will follow, Dima is going to pause at the verge of jumping into the water.
"There's something more I'd like to look at. Jump down, please, Faolan; I'll join you in a moment."
Rin isn't letting their disguise drop just yet. They move toward and Message Sen, [ No frogs yet. :/ ]
<.>
Faolan doesn't like this - not when Dmitri might sacrifice himself.
He frowns and shakes his head. "No. Tell me what you're doing first, or come with me."
<.>
Dima looks conflicted—
But maybe. Maybe it'd be a good idea to tell what he intends. Just in *case* anything happens. He'd thought sending Faolan from the dais might be safeguard enough, but there's no being certain, and that frown—
He doesn't like to cause that.
So, he cants his head, thinks to send a Message, then decides he might as well let the thieves know, too.
He clear his throat, then speaks, keeping his voice even. "Something here wants blood. We're losing no one, but. I'm going to give the rocks a little bit of blood. Mine, of course."
<.>
Faolan stares at him with a mulish set to his jaw. Then, angrily, he argues, "What happens if a little blood's not enough? A little more?"
"All of it?
"Is that what you're going to do?"
The arguments jumble inside him: that Dmitri made promises to the children. That the creature will come looking for him and find no one. That he'll -
"Abandon me like -"
His mouth closes abruptly, jaw clenching. (It's not fair to say Dmitri's just like the rest of them.
But he's about to do something stupid, and leaving is leaving, no matter his intentions.)
The tension eases out of him, turning to bitter resolve and a sick sort of smile. He nods, says, "Fine."
And he heads for the edge of the dais.
<.>
Dmitri stares, stunned, stricken.
He could protest that a little would be enough; if nothing came of it, he wouldn't keep bleeding himself. He's reckless, but he has - for gods know whaT reason - more self-preservation than that. (And more cause, now, to veer from total destruction.)
He could say that he doesn't intend to abandon anyone, that this isn't about abandonment—
But it is. It is for Faolan (how much has he revealed in this fury? what wounds did Dima tear open?), and so it is for Dmitri, as well.
The hand that had been reaching for his dagger caught itself in midair, and hangs now by his side.
He watches Faolan move.
He seeks for words; for air to speak.
And he manages a few soft words, stepping over - one slow step, then faster, hurried - to Faolan's side, reaching for Faolan's hand: "A last resort, then.
"An option if we need it, if we can find no other way through this."
And, pressing Faolan's hand, [ I swear, if it comes to that, there will only be one cut; enough to draw a few drops of blood, no more.
no subject
So Dima moves to the edge of the water. Is there anything of note about it? Slash does he see anything iN the water?
[dm: The water, while murky, proves to be only about two feet deep. There doesn't seem to be anything in it.]
Dima looks at his companions, shakes his head, and steps into the water, moving toward the dais.
He'll draw his dagger as he does so.
<.>
Faolan puts out a hand and almost says 'Dima' to stop him from going across, but the word's almost existence throws him. Sen's looking at him oddly and he doesn't know what else to do, so he hurries to follow Dmitri toward the dais.
The ledges and central dais are five feet high, leaving the dais's surface three feet above the water; to properly see anything about the altar, Dima will need to find a way up.
<.>
He'd climb, but he's not so sure his climbing skills are up to par, and the rock looks wet. There might be a solve for this, something in his pack that might be of use, but in this moment's he become fixed on reaching the surface, and the nearest option at hand—
Lip ticking, he turns to Faolan. "Could you lend me a boost?"
<.>
Faolan frowns, clearly thinking this is a bad idea, but he still crouches and makes a step of his interlocked fingers for Dmitri - whom he lifts with ease.
<.>
"Thank you." It's what Dima manages - along with a cant of his head - before he takes that lift and draws up onto the platform.
<.>
As soon as Dima's feet touch the platform, the chanting rises once more as thirteen dark apparitions appear on the ledges overlooking the room.
Each one resembles a black-robed figure holding a torch, but the fires are black and seem to draw light INTO them. Where you would expect to see faces are voids.
"One must die!" they chant, over and over. "One must die! One must die!"
Sen, from across the water, shouts, "What the fuck did you two do?!" as Faolan scrambles to hoist himself up after Dmitri, worried now for the man's safety.
[INSIGHT/RELIG
d: 16
r: 15
f: 19
s: 20]
Everyone at this point understands one thing about this situation: Faolan and Dmitri have to sacrifice a creature on the altar or face the cult's wrath. To count as a sacrifice, it must die on the altar.
<.>
Dima is going to attempt a query and speak to the figures: "To what end. Who is your 'Ancient One'?"
Dima is also going to cast Protection from Evil and Good on Faolan, with protection against Undead creatures.
Rin, meanwhile, is debating whether they can disguise themself as one of these spirits. And absolutely has shortsword and dagger in hand. They’ll move to stand by Sen, and will Message him: [ Yes or no: Would it fuck with them if we pretended to BE them? ]
<.>
Sen has absolutely no idea; this is somewhat terrifying, in his humble opinion. However, he's game to try, and says as much by way of a Message.
Faolan is looking around the room and running mental calculations.
About how many cultists he can count.
About what living creatures are in the space.
About what he's willing to do to free himself from this situation, because thirteen is far too many for them.
His gaze lands on Dmitri.
(No.)
And on the thieves across the water.
(No.)
And -
(No, no, no - ) (But it wouldn't really die.)
(It might not return to him, either.)
He looks to Dmitri again as though seeking answers.
(And maybe, looking lost.)
As for the question Dima tosses out: there's no response. Only their ceaseless, chanted demand.
<.>
Fuck’s sake.
This is the problem with cultists, and particularly those who don’t appear alive: They have one purpose only, and move, act, think as one.
Seeing Faolan’s expression, he shakes his head. Meaning, no, we aren’t giving them any of us, including the wolf. Meaning, no, we’ll find our way through this. And Messaging: [ Breathe, Faolan. There’s an answer. We’ll find it. ]
[ I’m not convinced one would be enough; they’ll take as many as they please. This won’t stop until we stop them. ]
And on the chance that this ritual works, there’s no telling what this group will unleash.
If only they knew something, knew anything about this cult's intent. There are guesses to be made; the letter suggests something vampiric, but this might go beyond the recipient of the letter's intentions. That the cultists are here - how long have they been down here? - suggests that something, some purpose or some magic, binds them— Or that they've all donned some arcane guise.
As Dima thinks, Rin's moving off into the shadows; they're going to cast Disguise Self in an attempt to mimic the cultists. They message Sen: [ I figure you'll be able to tell me apart; I'll be the short one.
Hey, let Faolan know what we're up to? I've got the shitlord. ]
And, to Dima: [ We're trying something. A disguise something, so don't worry if we disappear.
Also, try asking them about Walter. ]
<.>
Nothing happens. The words don't deter the chanting; the cult won't be denied.
Faolan huffs a tragic sound and offers softly, "Dmitri, if it's necessary - if it might help you escape with Rose and Thorn -"
He doesn't want to do it. The idea guts him, and he can feel the wolf's patient gaze on him from across the water. He could call it to him here -
Sen's voice interrupts his thoughts: [ Trying something. ]
He shakes his head and glances at the thieves just as they disappear.
Sen, meanwhile, is taking this a step further, and as Rin moves one way, he moves the other in his disguise. He'll attempt to attack and replace the nearest cultist.
<.>
It's gutting, that thought.
That he could risk sacrificing the children before he's even gotten them free of this house.
That he could agree to risking Faolan, or any part of him.
Dima shakes his head. [ They can't take all of us.
If I'm unable to go on, I'll need you to take them. Please. You'd be good with them; I know. ]
Rin, catching onto Sen's scheme, is going to try something similar— Though they've pulled out the wand, and are going to see about making a froggy cultist.
<.>
Faolan stares at Dima, utterly thrown by the implications of what he's saying.
That he would possibly let himself die before sacrificing Faolan's wolf.
He doesn't know what to do with that thought. (He doesn't want that thought.) (He can't live with it.) (Or without it, really.)
He shakes his head and looks away - in time to see Sen appear from the shadows and attempt to plunge a knife through one of the cultists, and Rin attempt to aim a wand at another.
Sen's knife plunges through the cultist.
Nothing happens when Rin points the wand.
Because the cultists, Faolan realizes, are only illusions.
"They're not real," he breathes, right as Sen shouts approximately the same thing, but with much more colorful wording.
<.>
Rin is not happy about this.
Well. They're happy no one needs to fight thirteen of these weird shits. They were just really hoping to see a frog.
They're going to wave a hand in front of one of the illusions: "Hello?"
Dima, keeping an eye on the... cultists, the illusions, is going to begin examining the dais, seeking any kind of clue regarding what the fuck is going on.
[dm: There's nothing new to be found on the dais, and the figment doesn't respond to Rin's hand or voice.]
Dima exhales his frustration— Well. Frustration and relief. They have no answer, but this, at least, is a positive turn. (He isn't going to think about what Faolan suggested.) (He isn't going to think about his own response.)
He rises and finds Faolan's eyes again. [ Off the dais, I think. I'm going to take a look at these illusions. ]
And, out loud, "There must be a source."
After ascertaining that Faolan will follow, Dima is going to pause at the verge of jumping into the water.
"There's something more I'd like to look at. Jump down, please, Faolan; I'll join you in a moment."
Rin isn't letting their disguise drop just yet. They move toward and Message Sen, [ No frogs yet. :/ ]
<.>
Faolan doesn't like this - not when Dmitri might sacrifice himself.
He frowns and shakes his head. "No. Tell me what you're doing first, or come with me."
<.>
Dima looks conflicted—
But maybe. Maybe it'd be a good idea to tell what he intends. Just in *case* anything happens. He'd thought sending Faolan from the dais might be safeguard enough, but there's no being certain, and that frown—
He doesn't like to cause that.
So, he cants his head, thinks to send a Message, then decides he might as well let the thieves know, too.
He clear his throat, then speaks, keeping his voice even. "Something here wants blood. We're losing no one, but. I'm going to give the rocks a little bit of blood. Mine, of course."
<.>
Faolan stares at him with a mulish set to his jaw. Then, angrily, he argues, "What happens if a little blood's not enough? A little more?"
"All of it?
"Is that what you're going to do?"
The arguments jumble inside him: that Dmitri made promises to the children. That the creature will come looking for him and find no one. That he'll -
"Abandon me like -"
His mouth closes abruptly, jaw clenching. (It's not fair to say Dmitri's just like the rest of them.
But he's about to do something stupid, and leaving is leaving, no matter his intentions.)
The tension eases out of him, turning to bitter resolve and a sick sort of smile. He nods, says, "Fine."
And he heads for the edge of the dais.
<.>
Dmitri stares, stunned, stricken.
He could protest that a little would be enough; if nothing came of it, he wouldn't keep bleeding himself. He's reckless, but he has - for gods know whaT reason - more self-preservation than that. (And more cause, now, to veer from total destruction.)
He could say that he doesn't intend to abandon anyone, that this isn't about abandonment—
But it is. It is for Faolan (how much has he revealed in this fury? what wounds did Dima tear open?), and so it is for Dmitri, as well.
The hand that had been reaching for his dagger caught itself in midair, and hangs now by his side.
He watches Faolan move.
He seeks for words; for air to speak.
And he manages a few soft words, stepping over - one slow step, then faster, hurried - to Faolan's side, reaching for Faolan's hand: "A last resort, then.
"An option if we need it, if we can find no other way through this."
And, pressing Faolan's hand, [ I swear, if it comes to that, there will only be one cut; enough to draw a few drops of blood, no more.
I'm not leaving, Faolan. I won't.
Let's get down from here. ]
<.>