Burning Nile Scene 01

Adom shudders as the energy of the spirits lashes back at him. As his stomach clenches with the feeling, he knows he has overreached. This would not be a glorious triumph.

Part of his mind registers the ululating battle cry of the miller he had sensed was dangerous. The woman had jumped from the second story nearly onto the blade of the... thing. Without a thought for her own safety. Stupid, but... he does not have time to think about it as the lamentations of the kin of the slain pierce his brain and his heart. The blood pooling in the dirt turns his already clenched stomach. The way it drains out of the corpses of the dead reminds him too much of what his own hands had done a decade earlier. He will be visited by that spirit again tonight in his dreams if he sleeps, he is sure of it.

The abrupt end of Sabra's song slams into his awareness. There was a power there that he had not even consciously recognized until it was gone. The elf's words now cut into Adom's fears about what the creature could be. It had passed through them all like... like nothing...

Ipwet rolls to her feet, dusting her clothes off. As she walks back to the group she gives a cursory glance to the dead laying in the street and their families mourning in anguish. "Poor bastards," she thinks to herself, "they had no place running through the streets like morons, why do simple folk always lose their common sense when they need it most?". Her demeanor has clearly been deflated from the complete ineffectiveness of her attack. Her face still shows a dour expression, but now is heavily tempered with bewilderment and a bit of embarrassment.

As she approaches the group they can hear her mumbling curses under her breath. "What in the blazes *WAS* that thing? How am I supposed to pound a cursed ghost for the Nile's sake?! Somebody better have some answers soon or we all might as well grab our coins for the ferryman right now!"

Ipwet clearly notices Adom severely struggling with some ritualistic endeavor. Leaving him to his inner conflict for the moment, Ipwet turns to Tefri.

"Is your, uhh... Master? Is he going to be alright? He does not look well."

Tefri supports his master and casts his eyes to the floor. Master speaks with forces beyond a slave's humble understanding.

"Oh give me a break--", Ipwet's eyes dart behind her to the supernatural encounter she just experienced and catches her disbelief. "Yes, well... He better know what he is doing. What about you Tefri?" Ipwet eyes him up and down, then looks to Adom to see if he is conscious of his physical surroundings, then quiets her voice a bit. "You seem like your capable of doing halfway decent work. How did you end up someone's slave?"

Adom's eyes clear a bit and he seems to come back to himself a little. He leans on Tefri gratefully until he realizes it makes him appear weak. The man has a gift for being the perfect model slave in his words and actions, but he is far too intelligent to be that pliable. Nonetheless, he is a strong set of shoulders to lean upon, and Adom feels certain that he would have done his level best to defend his master. And right now Adom's mind is reeling, and much of the blood has drained from his face.

The priest finally spits out "I had nothing to do with this. That symbol on the side of that thing's chariot has something to do with your people if I'm not mistaken." in Sabra's direction. He is obviously angry but he seems too earnest to dismiss his own involvement. He then turns to Ipwet, practically snarling "And you. You can mind your own thrice damned elf-loving business. What sort of miller are you anyway? I didn't realize grinding grain involved leaping from rooftops to punch people in the face." He straightens and begins walking unsteadily toward the nearest corpse, gulping down the bile threatening to rise in his throat and calls back to the three of them grudgingly "Nevertheless, I shall commend your bravery in my prayers to the dead. All of you."

He pulls the small accoutrements of his station out of a small pouch at his side and begins to perform the rites over the newly dead, trying not to think about all the blood.

Ipwet is almost taken aback by the outburst from Adom and stares on, unblinking and expressionless, while he scolds Sabra and herself in turn. Before he turns away Ipwet gives a smug smirk, pleased with herself that she was able to assist in garnering such a reaction from the high-and-mighty priest and as he walks away she mumbles just loud enough to make sure he hears, "Maybe you should spend some time among us commoners more often. I think you'll find we are quite often more than what we seem..."

Ipwet then turns to Sabra, some of the ever-present anger returning to her face, "What did he mean that symbol has to do with your people? If you know something about this whole mess you better speak up, the only reason I got dragged into this is because everyone in this lousy city hates your kind 'cept me!"

Tefri stands between the growing crowd and Adom with his arms outstretched and drops to his knees. Please, my master speaks to the gods for your fallen family and friends. Please do not interrupt or you risk their afterlives.

Adom finishes the rite silently, then turns his ashen face up to the man. He looks around at the gathering crowd. The sick feeling in his gut begins to grow. This is on the verge of becoming a disaster. Everything in him screams to distance himself from this. Sabra. And Ipwet. Both could easily become scapegoats. The anger of people could become a weapon in his hands. He could wield it, turning the point of it away from himself.

But...

But what? He needs them. His own efforts to discover more about the impending disaster had been fruitless this far, and Amenset's influence seemed to be spreading, blocking his own at every turn, strangling him. He needs a triumph. And as unlikely bedfellows as they are... he needs them. And they had been as eager to help as he. He sets his jaw and steels his nerves, standing, then gently laying a hand on Tefri's shoulder.

"Young man, I am truly sorry for the loss of your mother. Rest assured that her sprit will be cared for in the afterlife. I will pray on her behalf for a month and a day.

"I do not know why this tragedy has befallen us. Some foul mockery of a spirit has seen fit to come here, to attack us, to slay us in the streets. I will not rest until I discover who has done this. And why. They have spit in the face of the natural order of things and flaunt whatever fell power they wield in the face of a true priest of the dead. They have made a fatal mistake this night. They will be hunted down like a wild dog and put in their place.

"We will lay the victims of this creature to rest tonight. While your loved ones make their way to the halls of the Lord of the underworld, I will be seeking out the villain behind this. Please, friends, let us tend to those who need our help in the moment, that later we may exact such revenge that will say unto all that never again shall such abominations be suffered!"

He sweeps his hands wide, making a point to include Ipwet, Sabra, and Tefri in with all the others.