Burning Nile Scene 02 - In the Crocodile's Jaws

Adom keeps a careful eye on everyone they pass along the road, conscious of how he must look to them. A priest, an elven farmer with a sword, a hard-bitten miller, and a slave. It sounds like the setup of a bad joke.

Seeing the parched banks baking in the sun, at this time of year, is no less disturbing now that he knows there is some strange force at work. It is hard to believe that his little bit of... meddling... had been part of all of this. But... he had felt something strange. And he is too prideful in his heart to let go of the idea that he truly does wield such influence, even on accident. This isn't the path to his destiny he expected, but he will not be turned aside from greatness.

The great maw of the gleaming temple beckons to him. Such works of man echo the greatness of the gods and the smallness of man, but is it not the hands of men who build them? Someday, it will be he who stands atop the steps at such an edifice as this, waving a censer full of rich incense and delivering the words of Anubis, Lord of the Underworld. And yet here, today, the smell of burning braziers and incense is absent. The acolytes who should be here to greet worshippers are gone. Surely, Sobek would not be pleased by such a lapse.

Knitting his brows as they approach, he looks around carefully from the bottom of the steps. When there is no sign of anyone, he stops, closes his eyes, and calls out to Anubis. "Lord of Death, Keeper of Souls and the Underworld, hear my prayer. Please, in your greatness, tell me if the servants of Sobek have come to you for your judgement. Do their souls stand before you in supplication? Show me a sign." He tries to avoid picturing the corpses lying in the street outside of Ipwet's mill last night. He has no desire to stumble upon the rotting corpses of the temple priests if they have also been slain by that... thing.

A chill runs down Adom's spine. Being a servant of Anubis rarely leads to feeling of warmth and sunshine, even among the most casual of his faithful. For those blessed by the attentions of the Lord of the Underworld, his touch can be overwhelming in its coldness and shadow.

Adom's eyes widen as he sees the cloaked figure approach. The blackness of it seems to drink in the light of the sun and annihilate it. It is... profoundly unnatural, and yet this is the figure who waits for every last soul at the end of this life. This is the... entity who brings each of us to Anubis. And here he is, standing in front of the priest. Anubis has heard, and answered, his prayers before, but this... this is truly a wonder.

The skeletal hand extends and Adom follows it with his eyes toward the temple, tearing them away from the figure. Seeing the bones move with no flesh, no muscle to guide them is not as horrifying as it might be. There is no blood. Just pure, clean bone. In the direction the finger is pointing is the new temple, dry and silent. And then the spirits of the dead appear, as whole and solid as any man alive. And that one, that is Uday. What irony that the lower priest's name means... meant... "to materialize." For materialize he had. Perhaps Anubis' grave humor had driven the god to answer his prayer this time. For surely he knew his servant would recognize the jest, and appreciate his wit. The warmth of his god's amusement fills him, dispelling a bit of the hollow cold in his bones. But even in that, the warmth is touched with shadow.

Adom watches in silent fascination as the figures descend into the river. It is the clearest sign he has ever received from Anubis. But alloying his joy at hearing the voice of his god so clearly is the revelation that the temple has been visited by something that has slain the four caretakers.

Quietly, he says a prayer for the four souls he has just seen. "Lord Anubis, I thank you for showing me the souls of those so recently departed on their journey to your halls. May you find in them no lack of virtue and no excess of vice, for their sake, and may ever your servant be worthy of you."

Raising his voice enough for the others to hear, he says "I believe we will find the corpses of the four caretakers of the temple inside. Would that it were not so, but I have witnessed the truth as told by the omen of Anubis." His voice is strained. There is a mix of pride and fear in it. His prayer has been answered directly in unmistakable terms. He has the ear of a god. The God. Of the Underworld. That is something few can say, and fewer still will be able to oppose when the time comes. A certain woman comes to mind. Perhaps he will send her to meet his god personally eventually. But now is not the time to challenge a priestess of the sun. Now is a time to repair what is broken. To build from the ashes. To take the next steps on his journey.

Tefri walks down the road behind his master. What continues to catch his attention the entire trip is the sheer number of slaves being put to use. As numerous, as cattle, but used for such mundane purpose. Is it worth that man's soul to be carried around like a child? It is but one example among many of the excesses and falsehoods of the Egyptians.

Soon enough, a second and far more distressing example rises over his master's shoulder. The Temple of Sobek...Despite the enmity Tefri feels about all things related to this temple, he cannot help but appreciate the artistry and craftsmanship. It is beautiful to behold. The Egyptians toy with powers beyond their reckoning. They build temples that purport to be in service to a god, by men whose hearts only want the glory of having built a greater temple than his peer.

As Adom begins to mumble a prayer, Tefri prepares to have to catch the priest should he need to make a show of this prayer as well. He is surprised Adom announces the dead rather than fall. Four dead. That's awfully specific for a guess. Are there always four and he assumes that all have died? Perhaps Anubis truly did bless him with a response. I am not presumptuous enough to think I could explain the actions of gods.

Ipwet looks on in blatant skepticism. Despite last night's very clear sign proving the existence of the supernatural here in the mortal realm, her usual disbelief is ready at the tip of her tongue as she mumbles under her breath in response to Adom's prayer and apparent answer, "Ugh! Gimme a break...". However, that is just an automatic retort honed by years of smart-mouthing. Inside her head, she can't help but feel a small amount of curiosity, tempered with jealousy. As she takes in the city around her; the poor farmers struggling to make ends meet, the slaves hoisting the nobility above the masses (literally and figuratively), the children playing in the dirty street, her mind can't help but go to a dark place. The priest seems so sure of himself and the response his supposed god gave him. If they really ARE watching over us, why in the name of all that is decent do they allow nobles to reign with such impudence over good and honest folk? Why do they allow such horrible injustices to go unanswered in the dark alleys of this city? Why did they let a small girl come within moments of starving to death, alone and ignored, with no parents to care for her...

Ipwet feels tears of anger rising and shakes them away, turning her face away from the group. She decides to do something practical and her vision scans around the open square, looking for a beggar who might not have moved from their perch in some time. Or better yet, a street urchin who claims this area as their stomping ground.

As the farmer's cart passes by, Eurainon pilfers a single vegetable. The quality, lackluster compared to what used to grow in these lands but far superior to what he had spent the last fifty years learning to coax from the sand-choked and sun-cooked soil far from the banks. Seeing all these people, Eurainon pulls the hood of his garment up to hide his face and ears. He is unhappily biting into and chewing the leek when Adom has his vision. Ipwet had always been a pragmatic woman. It was why he dealt with her and not the other foolish humans. At least he had convinced himself he had a choice. She did not cave to faddish trends and she kept her house in good order, even if it, like her, was of low origin. But to scoff at the Gods...

The Gods are real. They simply use us for their amusement. If this one, gesturing to the priest whose eyes seem to be darting around in ecstasy even after his vision, is a vessel for their designs then we are in even more danger than I previously imagined.

Danger... Danger is walking amidst you humans. You have taken from me and now make me walk on my own lands as a stranger. There are no Gods that will save you. I serve Anubis almost as much as that charlatan his robes. But... If he speaks the truth, evil has crept into my home. First, use these... friends to exhume the evil. Then take back what has been lost. By sword or by song, you have my word Father.

Ipwet's scanning of the square stops short at the elf's comment. Her eyes grow wide for a moment, considering the possibilities, then her dark smirk paints her face. "What a collection of religious views we have between us; There are no gods at all, they have some grand design that all our combined suffering fit into, and the gods are simply children wielding powers beyond imagination as you say, Sabra. I do believe your scenario is the most frightening of all..." Then she turns to Tefri with an inquisitive look. "Where do you fit into our little menagerie, Nubian?"

Tefri stares intently at the temple as they approach it. He is lost in thought as the others discuss theology. The word, Nubian, returns his attention to his traveling companions. He hesitates before speaking and looks at Adom, Master Adom is the best person to talk to about such things. It is he who communes with divinity. After his curt answer, he quickens his pace to catch up to Adom.

Adom looks back toward Tefri, still awash in triumph and apprehension. Seeing the man's hesitation, he waits for his answer and then nods slowly. "Do not hesitate, Tefri. You have no need to hide your thoughts from us. But neither must you be compelled to answer. Simply know that I meant exactly what I said last night. Anubis has shown me this vision today, and I believe we have been brought together for a reason. Far be it from me to trod upon an actor in as great a plan as His."

This is... new territory. But if Anubis has seen fit to place this man in his path, in the way he had, surely the man must be important. Even if only to safeguard his master, he has a part to play in all of this, in Adom's ascension. And he would not fail to stand by his word.

Ipwet takes a look around the surrounding streets and spots a small child hiding in the darkness of an alleyway directly across from the temple entrance. As soon as their eyes meet she sees the kid, looks to be a 7 year old boy, get a frightened look on his face at being spotted by an adult. Before he has a chance to dart she makes the universal hand signal all street urchins use to greet each other; she takes her right hand and brings it up to her left shoulder then subtly wags her first two fingers. She then makes her way over into the alley as non-threatening as possible, which is a conscious effort on her part.

Ipwet's normal demeanor softens somewhat as she bends down and speaks to the child more like a harsh but caring teacher. "You can't rely on strangers to keep you alive, the only one you can count on is yourself. Remember that. Now, I'll teach how to never go hungry again if you can answer a few questions for me. Watch me carefully."

Without waiting for a response Ipwet casually strolls back into the main road and approaches another farmer's cart traveling in the opposite direction. As she passes the donkey leading the cart she subtly pinches its rear end, causing it to get agitated and riled up. As the cart's owner rushes up to calm the beast down, Ipwet nonchalantly rolls a turnip off the cart and into her pocket. She returns to the child in the alleyway, tossing the vegetable in one hand with a sly smile. "Do we have a deal?"

Ipwet leans in and speaks low, buying into the girl's 'secret meeting'. "You seem like a smart girl. A smart girl who notices things. How long have the acolytes left Sobek's temple empty? And have you noticed anyone going in or coming out recently?"

"Really, when did she come by? And do you remember specifically what this priestess said the horrible stuff was and who did it?"

Adom gives the old man a hard look. The cloth the man has is surely fit for a priest of Adom's station, the perfume is strong and will help mask the powerful odor of death inside, and the incense is precisely the right type... but as ever, the price reflects the quality. There is a moment where he is tempted to balk, but he does not give the man the satisfaction. No one would ever have reason to say of Adom that he does not deserve and demand the best, even when it pains him.

Forcing a smile, he carefully holds his purse so it will not become apparent how empty this transaction is making it. With feigned casualness, he counts out the exact asking price, without haggling, and hands the coins to the man, who snatches them up greedily. Typical. Careful not to show his disgust, he wraps up the small vial of perfume and the incense in the cloth and returns to the foot of the temple stairs. There, he slices the cloth into four even pieces, laying them out before him, and sits on his knees awaiting the others, contemplating what words to lift up toward Anubis, and Sobek.

This land, once full of song, has now settled into a dirge. Look at them, Father. They have forgotten who they used to be. Where is there pride? He looks down on his weathered robes. He sees reflected back the memory of armor glistening in the sun, playfully bouncing the rays back, somehow staying cool even in the desert sun.The sun tilts off a merchant selling mirrors to passerby, flashing into Erurainon's hood and interrupting the memory. He stood then where he stands now, looking at the elves in the marketplace ahead of the temple. He pulls his hood down tighter to hide his face. Where too is my pride? Looking down again he sees no armor is there to greet him. Just the sand-stained, wind-strained robes of a farmer. The only piece that stands out to the trained eyes of elves that would set him apart, aside from his doubly distinctive facial features, is the sword that hangs at his waist. A khopesh smithed in the finest forge, tempered with the waters of the Nile, quenched in the blood of a river crocodile, the blade was unmistakable to any who knew his order. He, like the finely-crafted metal, was a Sword of the White Tower.

It strikes him, as he looks around at these elves, if any would fight. If they, like him, had finally finished waiting for the time to strike. If they, like him, could feel that it was nigh. Sitting to the side of the square, Erurainon begins to sing a mundane Elven song, putting thoughts to words and striking up a simple harmony in a minor key. ♪♪ I saw a maiden come to fair, the golden sun bounced off her hair. The wind blew warm, the winds blew cold, and now my maiden's eyes are old. ♪♪ An old training song, Erurainon looks to see if there are any Swords of the White Tower in attendance that react or join into the song.

Walking alongside his master as he prepares and performs his prayers, Tefri scans the crowds. His eyes seek a familiar face, anyone that had toiled and suffered and lost as he had in the building of that temple. Surely, if they've stayed in the area, they would have heard something about events at the temple...

Etharch be damned. If this elf recognized him it could undo his element of surprise. Erurainon pulls his hood lower and tries to circumvent the elderly eldar.

Ipwet stares at the young girl, thinking hard about what she just heard. A priest cursed this temple? Surely Adom has knowledge of this, I wonder what his angle is here... After a moment she shakes away her thoughts and speaks to the child, "You did good, kid. Now scram, and don't ever let me catch you acting like some poor defenseless victim again. You have the will to survive this city, don't let it beat you." And as she turns away, "Oh, and... thanks... for keeping your eyes and ears open."

Ipwet returns to the general vicinity of the others, seeing Adom sitting patiently with his recently acquired items in his lap. "Whatcha got there, priest? Don't go thinking you're going to induct us all into your sect of death worship."

Adom looks up from the four prepared cloths as Ipwet approaches. The perfume has been doled out efficiently and evenly. He had almost considered adding more to the others' as he had a least a little experience with the stench of death. But in the end it had seemed prudent to simply give each their portion.

At the miller's words, a flash of anger crosses his face for an instant before he can regain his composure. He spent good money, and a great deal more than he had anticipated, on a kindness for each of them and all she can think to do is mock him? He has just witnessed an omen from Anubis himself.

Forcing the feeling down, he tries to keep his voice even. Not entirely succeeding, he says with a bit of an edge "What I have here is a courtesy, not a ritual. And an expensive one at that. Here, hold it like so." He folds the cloth into a palm-sized square and holds it up over his mouth to his nose. "It will help with the smell once we get inside, assuming the bodies are still present." He sighs heavily. This is not how he would prefer to deal with this situation, in company with such strange companions... but alas, it appears that they have been chosen for him.

His eyes wander over to shadowed alley she had entered. "Do you enjoy disappearing into alleyways or was there some purpose to that?"

Maybe the foreman has had to move the crew to another project somewhere else in the city. I don't seem to recognize any of the slaves around here. Swallowing down his frustration, Tefri returns his attention to his master's preparations. For the smell? I'm not sure if this is a kindness or an insult. The others have clearly been around death before and to think that this slave has never had to carry bodies is oblivious at best.

Tefri's joy is immediately dashed as the woman turns. I...forgive me. I thought you were someone else He bows and walks away slowly. I was sure it was her. It was her...for a moment. She's trying to call to me. Tefri returns swiftly to his master with renewed vigor. Master Adom, is there anything else I can do to make us ready to enter the temple?

Ipwet raises a single eyebrow at Adom, "The smell? Ahh yes, I hadn't considered... I suppose that was clever planning."

Then she turns to follow his eyes back down the alley and attempts to don an unsuspecting look of genuine interest and enthusiasm, "Yes. And yes. Perhaps you may even be able to help, Adom. I was able to learn that a priestess came by recently shouting to all who would hear of a blessing gone wrong at this temple and warned everyone off, which is why the temple appears to be abandoned. Her solution seems to be sacrificing the holyman who erred in his consecration else the entire land would become cursed. I'm certain this is some rumor blown out of proportion, but as a priest I thought you might have heard something similar in your circles, some additional knowledge to add to this story?" She keeps her new non-threatening look but stares unwavering at Adom, closely studying his face...

Seeing the old man glaring, Erurainon carefully slinks backwards into the merchants stalls and passing farmers. He knew this was a possibility and patiently waits for his moment to turn back and quickly walk back to his humans.

Did she say sacrifice? I'm starting to think that being with this man is not be the advantage I thought it was. Tefri keeps his eyes cast down to avoid reacting.

Friend or foe, this does not bode well. By the time he returns, Sabra has a dour look on his face. Adom hands him a rag with some human deodorant on it that they call perfume. Adom explains the purpose and pantomimes for the elf so that he can understand the grand invention. I have not forgotten the smell of human death.

I will be sure to use it when necessary. Sabra nods dutifully once and turns his scowl into a thin lined blankness.

Your god waits for us. I hear it is never good to keep your fickle gods waiting.

Ipwet calmly takes in Adom's very clear panic and evasion of her question. Other than the dead stare right at Adom she is not giving any sense that she has caught him at the very least in a lie of omission, but her stare does speak volumes. However, with a nonchalant wave of her hand she turns away, accepts his explanation, and lets the moment pass. "No, unfortunately I was not able to learn the names or physical appearances of either of the clergy involved. As I said I'm sure this story has been embellished by the telling several times over."

Ipwet grabs one of Adom's perfumed squares of cloth and experimentally gives it a sniff. Woah! Never did care for the pungent stench of aristocracy... "Besides, you have already proven your dedication to uncovering this mystery with your prayers and your foresight with these... wonderful smelling rags... Surely if you had additional information that could keep us from harm you would have shared it." With one final meaningful look at Adom, Ipwet returns to the task at hand and addresses the rest of the group now that everyone has returned. "So, what's the plan? We just gonna walk right in and start poking around an angry god's temple?"

Well, that went... well. Adom kicks himself in his mind. At least she is not pressing the matter.

Seeing her reaction to the cloth, he wonders why he even bothered. None of his companions seem truly appreciative of his thoughtfulness as far as he can tell. Or it could be the nervousness coloring his perceptions. Regardless, it is time.

"Precisely."

Ipwet wanders the temple always keeping her distance from the rest of the group, making it obvious that she is doing things her own way. She weaves in and out of the pillars; searching the edge of the wall, winding her way back in to search the center of the great main hall, then back out to trace the outer wall again. The perfumed cloth hangs idly in her hand at her side, forgotten. Her quiet mumbling carries farther in the dark silence of the temple than it would out in the crowded market, rebounding off the stone walls, "This place has barely been used. Nothing interesting going on now, or ever it seems. What are we supposed to find in all this emptiness?"

Then Ipwet comes around a corner and is met with death. But not any death she is used to; this is not the day-old dead body left in the alley. This is the death that has been rotting in a closed casket when you are suddenly and unexpectedly thrown into the casket and the lid closed behind you. Ipwet's eyes go wide and she flings her hand up to her mouth, trying in vain to cover her nose and mouth with the scented cloth, but it is too late. Her face is already turning green. She barely has enough time to retreat behind the nearest pillar away from the prying eyes of her comrades before retching uncontrollably.

As soon as the smell hits, Tefri begrudgingly holds the cloth over his nose, but to no avail. The sight and stench of death assaults his senses. Itet?! Did I leave you to fester here? Alone? In this filth? Tefri's eyes water as he runs to the nearest brazier. His words are muffled by the cloth over his face, "Forgive me, Itet!" His words are punctuated by retching and emptying the contents of his stomach into the brazier.

A sense of unease settles darkly over Adom as it becomes apparent that so many of the trappings of the temple lie dormant and unused. There is a little knot in the bottom of his gut at being back in this place. He shakes his head slowly, drinking in the sights and sounds, all just slightly off somehow. He pushes thoughts of what he had so recently done here out of his mind.

The smell of the perfume in the cloth is nearly overpowering, but that is the whole point. As he turns the corner and the wave of fetid odor assaults him, he closes his eyes in horror and forces himself to take long, slow breaths. The blood is mercifully dried and crusted, but the sight of the youngest of the four, who looks a little too much like a potential initiate Adom had once known, is... distracting. With his eyes still closed, he mutters a prayer under his breath, trying to ignore the revolting echoes of the sound of Ipwet's vomiting.

"May your souls be worthy of the judgment of Anubis."

Sabra strides into the room past his compatriots who retch from the smell. Death no longer bothers him. It has been some time since he has walked a battlefield but the memories never left him as he plowed the land and bided his time. Sabra looks at the drag marks and sees how far they go. Unsure of what could have done this, he draws his sword as he steps forward.

Adom opens his eyes slowly, looking away from the bodies. He always sees that first corpse in his mind. The corpse he had created, instead of the body before him. But enough of that. He watches Sabra's back as the elf investigates, then looks to the pillar Ipwet disappeared behind. The unmistakable sounds run their course. Torn, he briefly contemplates walking over to her, but she has hidden herself for a reason.

His eyes shift to where he heard Tefri's plaintive words. Before he knows what he is doing, he has stepped over to him and reached out to the man's shoulder in an attempt to console him.

Tefri initially flinches at his master's touch, but does not turn around. His head and shoulders drop as he stares into the brazier. I saw her in the square just now. Itet...my wife. My mind knows that it was not...could not be her. My heart knows that it was her...as beautiful and vibrant as the day I lost her....the day she was taken from me. Today is the closest I have come to her since that day and I know she beckons me closer still. Tefri straightens his back as though he is sloughing off the years of labor and lash that had bent it so.

He turns and his eyes bore into Adom's. Tears streak down his cheeks. Priest, I have stood at your side as you insult, posture, and maneuver. I have listened to your prayers, some genuine and made in service to others, some false and made only to serve yourself. Many times I have wanted to disregard it, but I have seen the part of you that touches divinity. I need that man if I am ever to see Itet again. It is for the promise of that man that I will face whatever did that. He points at the carnage before them.

Find that man, be that man, and we can undo the horrors of the past and prevent those yet to come.

After a few moments Ipwet finally comes around the corner of the pillar and rejoins the group. She has regained her sullen demeanor, but it is clearly tempered with a touch of embarrassment. She obviously does not want to address the events of the past few minutes. "So... Anyone have any idea what this scene can tell us about what happened here?" Now that the initial revulsion has passed she starts idly examining the bodies and the brown crust.

Adom turns his whole body away from Tefri, feeling a strange mixture of shame and a lightness of heart. He had not realized what a burden he had been bearing. There are still many secrets locked within him, but as he joins Ipwet in her examinations of the mangled remains, he feels a wave of relief that buoys his spirits enough to deal with the horror before him mostly objectively. He thinks back to his early training as a priest of the dead, half-forgotten lessons about the seats of spirituality in the body. When you can speak directly to Anubis, what need have you to memorize such trivialities. That's what initiates... he pushes the thought away and kneels to examine the rent chunks of flesh.

Tefri's words echo in his mind. He turns and spits the taste out of his mouth. He does not turn back to avoid looking at his master's face again Fool! You will surely die for this outburst! To dare chastise your master at all let alone in front of others...what man would abide that? He clearly must keep up appearances in front of the others, but it's only a matter of time before his knife finds my throat.

Adom nods briefly to Ipwet as they examine the bodies together, glancing up at Sabra's back as he follows the trail of the drag marks in the blood. That one would bear watching. He had not even flinched. And something about his attitude seems more intense to Adom, though it could just be his own fears projecting themselves.

Adom looks over a few of the large chunks, following Ipwet's gaze to a line of small puncture wounds on each side of the flesh. "Have you ever seen something like this? Bite marks, I am sure of it. But not the bite of some mongrel dog wandering the streets. Whatever did this must have been large, and powerful, with a maw full of close set small teeth..."

Ipwet goes through a surprisingly wide array of emotions in a very short amount of time with Adom's observations. First she assumes a guarded stance as someone approaches her from the side and comes close to her personal space. Then at the 'mongrel dog' comment she lets loose a flash of anger in Adom's direction, Mongrel dog?! If that's what he thinks of me he'll find out just how a mongrel dog treats those-- Ahh, Crocodile! but it quickly turns into wide-eyed realization as she follows the priest's logic to its logical conclusion. Finally as she realizes she was just spoon-fed the answer her bitter, cynical presence pops out once again.

Ipwet makes a slow, pointed glance to one of Sobek's reliefs carved into a nearby pillar, then turns back and casts a disparaging gaze at Adom with a snort. "Oh... you mean like a crocodile perhaps? Brilliant deduction, Priest." Her voice is dripping with sarcasm, but with none of the razor's edge meant to intentionally harm that was present at their introductory conversation. Rather, this sarcasm has an undercurrent of familiarity... possibly even playfulness?

Ipwet stands back up from her crouched position and steps over the remains to follow after Sabra. Her retort is said with her back to Adom, her voice reaching his ears as an echo rebounding off the stone blocks of the temple walls. "You are right about one thing, Adom. A 'mongrel dog' would have finished her entire meal and licked the plate clean. She does not know when or from where her next meal will come."

The priest is oblivious to her reaction until she speaks. Adom's jaw drops as Ipwet points out the obvious, the glaringly obvious, conclusion. His cheeks redden as he realizes he should have thought of that. This is, of course, Sobek's temple.

The embarrassment feeds anger and... confusion. Before the anger can build itself up from an inkling to a true feeling, the change in her tone strikes him. He knows that tone. A toothless sarcasm. The last person to use it with him now wants him dead. And now this woman, who had apparently considered him nothing but a waste of water just a day ago, is now offering him... what? A playful jibe? He doesn't know what to think, so he simply watches her as she stands up and begins to walk away.

It is only when she speaks again, startling him, that he realizes he has been staring. He is thankful she did not turn around. His cheeks are aflame. He had not really considered it before but in her own hard-bitten sort of way she is attractive, a bit like the raw ferocity of a feral... oh. That's when her words sink in. She is, of course, correct. Again. But there is something both vulnerable and defensive in what she said. He thinks back to the way she disappeared expertly into the alley. Is she... some sort of guardian of the street urchins? He doesn't quite understand yet, but the half of his mind less focused on her and more focused on the more literal meaning of her words follows the logic to an interesting, horrible conclusion.

"Ipwet, wait. I..." He seems about to say one thing, but then decides to say another. Her name sounds strange in his mouth now. "You're right. But a crocodile would normally drag its victim to the water before... disassembling them there. Whatever this was tore them apart here, out of the water. Crocodiles are dangerous and unpredictable enough, but this... We should warn Sabra. If Sobek is expressing his displeasure through the beasts, we should be wary."

Ipwet stops at Adom's observation and thinks for a moment, staring at the bloodied piles of appendages and body parts. "Hmm, perhaps there is in fact more to the gods then I have been privy to in my life's experiences... If that is true and we meet one of them, I will surely have some questions as to why they've allowed certain atrocities I've witnessed in my days to go unanswered." She shakes out of her current train of thought and looks back to Adom. "Regardless, you speak wisdom Preist. If this was indeed a realization of Sobek's anger then this beast will not act as one would expect." As Ipwet turns away she notices the Nubian seems lost in his thoughts. "Tefri! Don't dawdle man, lest you be caught alone and end up like this poor bastard!"

Ipwet moves to catch up with Sabra. "Oy, Farmer Elf! The Priest seems to think if this was a minion of Sobek it may not behave like a crocodile, best not to wander off alone unless you are comfortable tangling with an angry diety's manifestation by yourself..."

Wait! Wasn't this temple intended to flood?

Tefri catches up to the rest. He avoids making direct eye contact with Adom. This floor was built to allow flood waters in and out. It may not be so odd that a crocodile attacked here.

Ipwet follows Tefri's gaze to the flood gates.

Adom collects himself as much as he can. He tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. His ambition has led him here, in service to Anubis, but also, as Tefri said, in large part to himself. And the evidence of what happens to those who displeased their gods lies in a bloody heap in front of his eyes. Feeling broken and confused, he looks up toward Ipwet and Tefri, carefully avoiding their eyes.

"You may have a point, Tefri. The waters are yet low, so it would not have flooded by the natural means, but such a creature would have easy access and not be out of place."

Adom looks up, startled. This is not good. He glances quickly toward Tefri and Ipwet, then walks quickly up to Sabra. Speaking with a veneer of calm, he says "Let us leave the beast to itself, Sabra. We have no specific quarrel yet with the creature of Sobek and we may pray it has none with us." The deaths of the priests of Sobek is a tragedy, surely, but not necessarily a direct responsibility of theirs. Maybe. He glances nervously at the beast and attempts to guide Sabra by the shoulder back with him to a safe distance.

Hearing Sabra's exclamation, Ipwet freezes and slowly turns to see the giant crocodile hissing at the elf. Feeling her rising fear begin to pump adrenaline throughout her body as Adom tries to keep Sabra calm, she attempts to resist the very clear FLIGHT signal her brain is screaming at her. With very wide eyes and visible trembling, Ipwet searches the nearby area making as little movement as possible.

By the Empress's left tit, that thing is MASSIVE! There must be *SOMETHING* I can use to my advantage here if this thing comes at me. A spot of high ground, a large stick to keep this creature at bay, anything!...

Tefri backs away with the others. He whispers, Wouldn't priests of Sobek know better than most how to handle crocodiles?

Tefri runs back to the remains and gathers up some chunks to try to lure away the crocodile.

Ipwet sees the enormous reptile hissing at Tefri and in haste begins searching franticly for something she could use to protect herself with... It isn't until a few seconds later she realizes the croc is now hissing directly in HER direction. She freezes once more, paralyzed by fear and barely breathing her words.

"By Tut's Tomb... It's looking right at me. You three better back away and get some distance cuz I'm about to high-tail it outta here myself and you might want a head start.

Seeing the beast hissing directly at her, with its feet under it in the telltale way that bespeaks a mad dash to come, something snaps within Adom. He doesn't know what. And he doesn't know why. It could be the horror of the blood-drenched snout and the thought of that young acolyte whose death might very well rest on the priest's shoulders. It could be the call of Anubis that had brought them all together in this. Or it could be whatever strange stirring he had felt inside the temple toward this strange woman. In the end it doesn't matter why.

He takes the hand on Sabra's shoulder and shoves him backward as he screams to them both. "RUN!" He places himself directly in the path of the beast, his stomach clenching with fear. The wickedly sharp wavy dagger at his side finally gets its wish and seems to leap into his hand of its own accord. His arm extended toward the beast, he bellows "BEGONE! Have not you fed enough on the flesh of men for one day? Tell your master he will send no more souls to mine to be judged today. BEGONE!" The Nubian may cower, the elf may sneer, and the woman will get clear of the monstrous creature.

The fierce grin that had crosses his face as the beast appeared to be cowed does not even have time to turn to horror before the jaws snap down on his hand. He lets out a cry as he goes sailing into the ground, where his knees hit the earth at the end of the platform. Before he can react, its tail is swishing by his shocked face as it turns to go.

The surprise turns to pain as the dual lines of teeth marks now marring his wrist begin to weep blood. He... shouldn't have a hand. He shouldn't have an arm left. He should be writhing at the bottom of the river with a bloody stump, shoved under a log to be tenderized. Or simply torn apart.

His gaze shifts to the reeds where the creature disappeared. He grits his teeth and scrambles backward, cradling the injured hand against himself, and placing his back against the stone of the platform. Gingerly, he brings the knife to his lips with his left hand, then places it back at his belt before closing his eyes and saying a prayer of thanks to Anubis. His eyes remain closed as he rests against the cool worked stone. At the moment, all he can feel is shock and gratefulness for being alive.

The Nubian slave hears Adom's cry as he runs back to the platform his arms outstretched, hands cupping a nauseating stew of viscera. He arrives just in time to watch the tail disappear in to the reeds. He growls in disgust and frustration and throws the remains into the reeds. He does his best to shake off his hands before running over to Adom.

Forgive me, Master Adom, I wasn't fast enough.

The attack passes in front of Ipwet's eyes and seems to happen in an instant and in slow motion simultaneously. She thought there was a very good chance she would be dead or dying, but instead Adom did... THAT. Once his cries of pain hit her ears her world seems to speed back up to normal. She is shaken out of her stupor and while still not quite sure how to react, she at least has regained control of her faculties.

Ipwet immediately moves to Adom before the creature has a chance to return. She comes up to the edge of the platform, reaches down, and picks the priest up under his shoulders and assists the Nubian, who seemed to appear from nowhere, in dragging him back across the platform and into the temple, all the while keeping her eyes to the reeds for any signs of movement of a returning crocodile.

Her voice carries a healthy does of anger, but that could just be a natural reaction in a situation such as this. "Fool priest! What did you think, you were making some noble sacrifice? Trying to protect the rest of us? It already had me in its sights, you had the perfect chance to escape! Tefri! Where'd you run off to? Your fool of a master's gone and gave the croc another taste of human flesh!"

Strange that you have so many insults for others now that fear has released you from its grasp! I was running to get bait to lure the beast away and he sought to intercede on your behalf. What did you do?

Adom feels himself being dragged backward, but his eyes remain closed and he lets out a moan. His mind is foggy with visions of the crocodile turning away. It should have killed him. The voices raised around him cut through the fog and seem to pound into his ears. The pain in his hand lances into him until he can bear it no longer.

He yells at the top of his lungs. "SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!" Shaking himself free of their grasp, he gets to his feet, pushing himself up with his good arm. He refuses to look at their eyes. Making his way a few steps further into the temple, he stops and says quietly "I had no need of your blood on my hands." I have enough on them already. A drop of his own blood drips from a finger and splatters to the stone floor loudly in the sudden silence. His knee still aches from the impact of slamming into the earth when the crocodile hurled him to the ground. As he takes another step, it buckles and he instinctively reaches out a hand to support himself on the stone column nearby. He lets out another cry of pain as his weight settles onto the injured hand and he turns to slump with his back against the column.

Tefri wipes any remaining filth from his hands on to his tunic before helping Adom to his feet.

Ipwet, shocked into silence once again by Adom, remains where she was standing, her hands and arms stuck outstretched in the same position when Adom shook himself free. Her eyes follow him as he struggles back inside, her gaze unreadable. After he sits against the column she walks back into the temple a ways and gives an idle glance around the empty place of worship. After a few moments she speaks, her voice has calmed significantly.

"Well, if that thing IS the cause of the priests' deaths, anyone have an idea what our next move should be? If Sobek sent the beast to punish us for one priest's foolish actions... maybe we should find them and make a sacrifice like that lady priest was shouting about? I don't know, Adom you're the expert here what do you think?" She sounds very unsure of herself and has an awkward tone of voice, Ipwet is definitely not used to talking about religion and sacrifices in a serious manner.

If there was any blood left to drain from his face, it would have done so in that moment. Standing there shakily with Tefri close by to aid him, Adom shakes his head slowly. "If that woman is who I think it is, we would be better served feeding ourselves to the beast than listen to her counsel."

He finally looks up at Tefri and nods his thanks. Seeing the gore staining the man's tunic, he sighs. In another time and place he would have berated this man, a slave, for daring to treat the remains of holy men so. He would have... he had assumed he had run away. Adom of a week ago would have run. So what has changed? He's not entirely sure, but it feels right. Uncomfortable but right. He gives a small smile and says quietly "I should not have doubted you."

Still feeling uncomfortable interacting with Tefri as an equal, he turns his eyes to Ipwet. The change in Ipwet's voice and manner finally dawns on him. He looks into her eyes. "And I should not have yelled." He looks down at himself, his clothes stained with dirt and blood, and he begins to feel some of the blood returning to his face. It would not do to be so unpresentable... for whom? He doesn't want to think about it.

Ipwet actually looks taken aback at Adom's apology and gives a noise of disbelief. "Pfft! Come on now, Priest! Don't get all tame on me and make me lose respect for you just when you and Tefri were beginning to get interesting! I *never* regret expressing my emotion, and I don't expect it from those with whom I keep company. I feel like we were just starting to have a normal conversation, am I right Nubian?" With that, Ipwet gives Tefri a shove, *just* enough to knock him off balance a hair and gives him a direct stare for a few seconds that seems to invite another quip.

Sabra comes running up from the tunnels where his investigations led him to where he heard Adom's scream. He sees the bloody hand and sighs. I'm sorry I was absent. These creatures must be dealt with quickly otherwise they will tear you apart. He looks around at the others. I did not find anything else following those blood tracks. What about you?

Adom looks at Ipwet strangely. He, too, is taken aback. He does not apologize often, or lightly. But she flung it back at him. He can't help himself from grinning, though, as she gives Tefri a push. He's about to say something into the span of silence beginning to stretch between them when Sabra returns.

"... What about you?"

The priest raises his bloody hand with a smirk. "We found the one who made the mess back in the main chamber. And don't waste your breath. Apologies are for the weak... apparently." With the smirk still curling up one side of his face, his eyes dart to Ipwet's for a moment and there is a hint of a question in them. It turns unintentionally into a wince as one of the fingers on his bloody hand begins to twitch and it sends waves of pain up his wrist. Looking away, he grunts and collects the perfumed cloth from where he tucked it into his belt. A bit clumsily, he begins wrapping it around the wound and tries not to flinch at the burning sensation where the perfume touches the raw flesh.

Tefri's normally dour face softens a bit in response to Ipwet's shove, I try to avoid such outbursts, let's just say that slaves don't usually get the opportunity to be interesting more than once. Even so, he quickly returns to his place a few paces behind his master as they walk towards the scroll room.

Sabra looks at the priest's wound. Your injury will show us. Let me try to heal you or at least take away your pain. Sabra needs this one alive. His knowledge and seeming kindness are valuable assets in finding his way back into his lands. Gaining his trust will be seeds well planted.

Adom's first reaction to Sabra's song is a vague sense of befuddlement, but it quickly fades. He's not entirely sure if the creeping feeling like a thousand pinpricks under the bandage has anything to do with the elf's strange song or if it's just the flesh reminding him that he ought to be gentle with it while it tries to heal. He's not a child to be soothed by a lullaby.

Regardless, as they walk, he feels a slight unease. Such songs do not have a place in the halls of a god of Man, even if that god is Sobek rather than Anubis. Not that he believes in the more exotic tales of the power elves wield with them. But if the man... elf... thinks he is helping, who is Adom to reject the man's good intentions?

The hand and wrist still sting as they walk into the store room and Adom sighs. "It would have been too much to ask for them to have been properly organized, I suppose." He nods his thanks to Sabra, then begins riffling through the scrolls to look for something relevant.

Adom grunts after a few minutes of unfruitful searching. Getting carefully to his knees, which still sting from where they'd slammed into the earth when the crocodile had tossed him, he closes his eyes and focuses.

"Lord of the Underworld, Judge of Souls, if you find my soul worthy, grant me your aid to find the answers we seek. Let not out search be unfruitful as the dry banks of the river."

He reaches out a hand to a random scroll, his eyes still closed.

Pulling out the scroll, Adom finds that it details the various horrible punishments Sobek has visited on those who have called upon him for petty favors in the past. He sighs and shrugs. "It appears we have a long day ahead of us."

It certainly will take a long time to find whatever it is he's looking for if his strategy is to grab scrolls at random. As his master entertains himself with the arcane scrolls, Tefri wanders about the the area examining the masonry. Maybe this temple hides more than crocodiles and scrolls...

Tefri starts walking along the walls examining the stonework, occasionally he presses various spots on the wall before continuing.

Sabra is bored with these humans. He watches as the priest reads his scrolls filled with the writings of petty gods. He watches as the slave wanders off down dark corridors as Sabra begins to imagine the corridors that used to exist on this spot. My father once stood where these stones stand now. He can still hear the venerable elf chastising him for maltreating the workers of the land.

"Magnus! You should know better! How are you to rule these lands if all you have is cruelty in your heart!

He grew up with the education of a prince. Taught the ancient arts of calligraphy and swordsmanship from a young age, his father often found time to temper his pride with lessons in humility.

"Until you have suffered much in your heart, as you have made those farmers suffer, you cannot learn humility."

I have suffered now father. I have grown ever so humble working callouses into my hands and hatred into my heart. You said that the cruelty would leave. You were always such an honest liar.

Sabra shakes himself back to the present, watching the miller interact with the priest. He looks again for the servant but sees that the strong one has disappeared.

Sabra pulls his cloak up and tries to cover his face, moving to the side of the chamber and out of view. Friend or foe . . . it matters not. Whoever knows that I am here could be trouble.

My love, I will find you. I may only need to go to the depths of this temple and not the depths of the underworld as I had once feared. Tefri's excitement at his discovery energizes his legs as he runs back to the scroll room.

His sandals skid on the sandy floor as he storms into the room. Master Adom! I have found a hidden area of the temple! There are writings burned into the floor. Come and see!

Adom is reaching for yet another scroll when Tefri bursts into the room. A look of annoyance turns to interest as he explains. A hidden area of the temple? Why wasn't that on the plans? This... this could be the answer. Or at least an answer.

Standing up quickly, the priest accidentally knocks over one of the baskets. Scrolls go rolling off across the dusty floor, but he pays them no heed. "Where? Show me!" He hurries after the laborer, forgetting his search for the moment.

This way! Tefri guides Adom to the entrance he found and places his hand on the stone panel. This stonework seemed out of place, when I moved it I found this. He walks over towards the symbols in the floor, What does it mean?

Adom stares at the intricate symbols in the floor. His knee buckles slightly as he kneels to examine the burnt circles, but he hardly seems to notice. After a few moments of studying the symbols from on his knees, a thought strikes him. He turns to look up at Tefri.

"This may be exactly what we were looking for." He glances back toward the hidden opening. Smiling, he looks back at Tefri. "The gods have smiled on us both today. Thank you. Without you I doubt we would ever have found this place."

Tefri paces back and forth anxiously as Adom studies the symbols. Forgetting himself in his disquietude, the slave shouts at his master, Well?!... does it say anything useful or not?!

Adom looks shaken at Tefri's sudden outburst. The scrape on his knee from his earlier fall still stings a bit, and the hand he's running over the symbols hurts. But he'd been so lost in thought he hadn't realized how long he'd taken.

The priest shakes his head as he starts to explain. "This is no mortal power at work. The mark of Sobek lies upon each of these spots. Look at the symbols. See these lines here? These are the reeds. And here. These are the river, and then the crocodile, here. It means that either a powerful priest of Sobek, or Sobek himself worked a miracle here. One, two..." He gestures at each circle as he counts them aloud. "One for each of them. This must be what happened to her, Tefri."

Tefri's brow furrows as he analyzes each of Adom's words. His eyes scan Adom's looking for any signs of doubt or lies, seeing none his eyes well up with tears and he drops to his knees beside his master. I thank my gods for granting me such a master!

He looks up at Adom with renewed determination, Can your god help us against Sobek? I will steal her back right out of Sobek's maw if I must.

Adom isn't sure whether to feel pleased or embarrassed. The man is finally seeing the true power of the gods, and acknowledging Adom, but for once the priest doesn't feel like he deserves praise.

"I have no doubt that it is within His power to help us. But I fear the belly of Sobek's temple is no place to call out to Him. I have already felt the sting of an unanswered prayer within these walls. We must reflect on this, but we have proof now that it was Sobek who took her. Together, we will find out why and set things right."

Set things right. To Adom, that means restoring the river, clearing his name, and if at all possible burying Amenset's power. The idea of putting his arm into the jaws of Sobek, again, is not something he wants to contemplate. Tefri's wife is probably beyond recovering, but maybe not. If they can find her, who knows what secrets it might unlock? Could it be that Anubis has chosen him to be the bone that sticks in Sobek's teeth? Will he be the willing pawn in a game between the Gods? It could be his path to greatness.