World Tree MUSH

    It's a bright sunny day in Puerto Rico. Warm and temperate with the autumn weather coming in, the lovely little island always seems to be warm and sunny. It's here that our journey begins, at the docks of the US Coast Guard in San Juan on the largely elven populated world of Pandemonium.
    Rumor has it that ships have been going missing in the Bermuda Triangle with an even more alarming frequency than usual lately, and the Coast Guard has had it up to their neck with reports of strange SOS signals coming from further north in the Triangle calling ships to their doom. This is where the offworlders come in. Reaching out to people offworld who might have better experience dealing with this, the US government has sought to hire anyone who might be able to safely investigate the odd phenomenon.
    Setting sail in a medium sized, steel hulled, propellor ship, by the name of the USS Pickering, the group finds themselves headed north, deep into the waters of the Triangle. The captain of the ship, a sun-tanned elf by the name of Edward Preble is a genial and good tempered man, but also very professional in seeing to it that the offworlders have everything they need while on his ship.
    It's not until about dusk that things begin to get weird...
    Stormclouds roll in from the east. And the ship's instruments begin to go wild as they pick up an SOS signal from deep within the storm.
    "This is about the point where most of the ships have gone missing..." Preble mutters, rubbing his chin. "Alright, let's investigate. Turn us into the storm." He commands his helmsman. And so the ship starts turning into the ominous clouds.

    Such a nice day, and yet Dante's not here to relax at the beach. Still, he can't really say no to investigating the Bermuda Triangle a SECOND time!

    Clad in his traditional red leather coat, chest bare underneath, he's going back to the style he had during that whole Temin-Ni-Gru affair. In his defense, he's not leaving without his coat and it's really hot out.

    Generally, Dante kicks back and drinks on the ship's way to their destination. He's not the captain here, and long as Preble doesn't tell Dante how to demon hunt, he'll let the sailor do his sailor business.

    Of course, things dim as the clouds roll in, and the instruments go wild. "Uhhh, is that supposed to do that?" He asks, looking at the storm ahead. This might be interesting.

     Among the group of offworlders is one significantly shorter than most, a stocky tan elf girl who might be mistaken for a child if not for her build and the way she carries herself... oh and the heavy plate armor she wears, as well as the hammer easily twice her size that she carries slung over her back. It looks more than a little awkward, but she seems well used to the encumbrance.

Of course, anyone with senses beyond the norm or who might be a little... off-kilter in the head, can easily see through the glamour to the blue-furred snaggletoothed creature beneath. The ears are still quite long and pointy though!

"Stormclouds, huh? Hope it isn't Volibear. I saw him once when I got los- er, visited the Freljord. Almost thought he was a mountain, he was so big. Let's just say I didn't stick around to see if giant lightning bears like the taste of yordles." she remarks, leaning on the safety railing to watch the storm and waves.

    Emily has ended up with a somewhat specific form she's been taking lately: a woman in a black trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat which casts her face into an unnatural amount of shadow, with dark gray hair which is only slightly lighter than the coat itself. Today, she's added a glowing white flower tucked into the brim of her hat, and thick white gloves and a black cane. She currently only has two arms at the moment.

    "Hmm." She taps her chin thoughtfully. "Do we have any other ships outside the danger zone? It'd be a good idea to leave another ship around here, just so it's within the effective range of my dimensional field." (She's using more cryptic terminology than usual.) That way, if we end up needing an SOS, I'll be able to make a quick getaway."

    She demonstrates by opening a dark portal with static at the edges, which leads ... five feet away. The other end also looked completely staticky at first, with the darkness only appearing once it opened.

    This is a fine chance to build some diplomatic ties! By now, Octavia de Tenebrae has enough experience in offworld situations that she feels confident in responding to a call like this. And if she can help resolve the disappearing ship issue handily, it might convince the government that the Kingdom of Schild is worth doing a bit of trade with. So there's nothing for it but a solid display of competence!

    And, privately, she might be trying to remind herself that she is, in fact, competent, after recent events.

    It's awfully tempting to ride along in the Rilarn's Chariot rather than descend down onto the Pickering. But if they need a rescue vessel, it's better to hold the craft back... and, to be perfectly honest, she doesn't want to put her own airship at risk. So, she'll just have to deal with accomodations that are a bit more... frugal, than she's used to.

    At the very least, she doesn't get seasick! In fact, she'll be up on the deck with Captain Preble as they approach. "A storm rolling in just as your ship's devices appear to go mad... I should think we're about to meet the same fate as the other ships."

    She doesn't sound terribly perturbed... but that might have to do with the fact she's already drawing Hauteclere in a slow, almost ceremonial sweeping motion.

    Mostly elven population? Then Ysuran's liable to fit right in! This is because he is an elf. A moon elf, to be more precise. Though the senses might detect death lingering around him, so he may be getting strange looks. Such things happen with necromancers, after all.

    Though sunny and warm, that's another matter. He is a pale elf, and he burns easily. So he's covered himself up with a dusty purple cowl. Which only serves to make him look all the more suspicious. The large black book he carries under an arm probably doesn't help that look, either.

    He is here, of course, to help with the investigation. Besides honestly wanting to help, well, an adventurer has to make a living somehow, right? Particularly one who doesn't have a fixed place of residence. And the amnesia doesn't help matters!

    He'll be out on the deck with the setting of the sun, so he'll be nearby when things start going a bit weird. Though as the ship turns into the storm, Ysuran's his head turns, as though he hears something. Putting back the hood on his cowl, he begins to scan the horizon with a confused look on his face, as if searching for something.

  Lucatiel of Mirrah is aboard the U.S.S. Pickering.

  She is not happy about this.

  The Elite Knight of Mirrah has come along on this errand with no real information on what it is she's supposed to do. She has offered no explanation to the Coast Guard, no explanation to the others present, and in fact not said much of anything. She is identifiable as a 'she' mostly by the long blonde braid, but the rest of her features are covered: A magnificent brimmed hat sporting a long black plume and white feathers, and a brazen mask crafted in the stylised visage of a man with a neatly-trimmed beard. Silk shirt and leather cuirass; pauldrons and leather leggings, tabard-like cloth folded through her belt, in blue. She carries two swords, a massive two-hander over a shoulder and a rapier at her hip, and a buckler over a shoulder. She smells of leather and saddle oil; the musk of horses. Somehow a desert would suit her better than the ocean.

  The masked woman looks more suited to a museum of the Renaissance than the modern world.

  She's largely kept near the helm with her arms folded, leaning against the bulkhead and radiating about as much joy as a cat that's had a bucket of water tossed over it.

  She turns her head to regard the captain and helmsman, the gleam of light off her mask the only indication that she's moved. This is not normal, she presumes, and from beneath the hat and mask there comes a long, exasperated sigh. It echoes weirdly from within the confines of the mask.

  Anyone with a sense for things that aren't right may notice that Lucatiel, herself, isn't right. For some reason she doesn't read as quite... alive. Not supernatural in the least, but somehow her read isn't really /correct/, either. Yet she moves and breathes and speaks (occasionally) perfectly normally. Much like Ysuran, there is an odd sense of death about her, to the supernaturally gifted.

  Emily's demonstration of a portal is eyed appraisingly, but Lucatiel refrains from comment. A useful trick.

  She also might be terribly seasick, but not enough to empty her stomach. Just enough to make her miserable... not that she'd admit that to anyone. Fortunately, her mask hides the green cast to her countenance.

>> SUMMARY[Lucatiel of Mirrah] >> *SIGH*

    "It is not supposed to do that, good sir." Preble replies to Dante. "That is the sign of a bad oncoming storm." He notes. "But no storm has ever sunk my ship." But then he nods to Emily. "We're not the only ship out on patrol today, just the only one directly investigating the SOS. There are others within radio range."
    "We're going to take every precaustion to not meet the same fate as the others, young lady. We'll be fine." He says with a chuckle to Octavia.
    "Alright." He calls out to be heard by the group at large. "This is about the point where-- JESUS, CHRIST HARD TO PORT!"
    He was about to say something about how this was about the point where most ships went missing, only to be cut off by a hard shout to his helmsman. He's not wrong. this is the point where most other ships went missing. It's probably due thanks to the massive silhouette that overtakes the much smaller Pickering. It's an utterly gigantic cruise liner, ancient, rust covered and dotted with pits and barnacles all over its decrepit hull. And it had most certainly not been there a moment before. Appearing from nowhere is one thing, but appearing so suddenly and so close means that the Pickering has absolutely no chance in hell to turn in time, the smaller ship is undoubtedly going to crash into the larger ship.
    It crashes into the larger ship.
    Though the passenger liner is utterly unbothered by this in the least, there's about only a minute or two before the Pickering is lost to the waves. And there is only one means of escape.
    Getting aboard the massive liner.

     Poppy does give Ysuran a bit of a sidewise glance, particularly at the book he's carrying. "So... mage?" she asks, just to try to strike up some conversation, when all of a sudden an EVEN BIGGER SHIP appears literally out of nowhere and crashes into their dinky little boat! It's a good thing she was leaning on the railing, as Poppy is able to keep herself from falling over.

However, the realization that their boat is sinking hits her quickly, and she groans something about heavy armor and the middle of the ocean as she jumps up onto the side of the larger liner, unhooking her hammer and extending it down toward the deck of the smaller boat. "Anyone who can't jump or fly high enough, grab on and I'll pull you up!" she shouts over the storm.

    Emily smiles to Octavia, raising the brim of her hat to reveal glowing purple eyes. "Not the most difficult of deductions, I expect," she says. She spends a moment grinning at Ysuran -- it's not entirel ysure what she's grinning about -- then nod as the captain. "I'd imagine we're about to -- waugh!"

    Suddenly, they have a passenger ship bearing down on them. Emily freezes up for several seconds, as if in panic. And then she shoots up off the ground. "Releasing all capacitor seals!" she exclaims, and she's surrounded by three distinct auras, one gold, one silver, and one pearlescent. All three shatter, before she thrusts her hands forward and opens up another portal -- this one is merely staticky, instead of having the darkness of the demonstration. "This way!" 

    And because of her panic? Yep: the destination is on the deck of the cruise ship.

    Dante doesn't really know these people, besides Emily anyways. Elf mage, Hat Lady with Old Man Face, Octy the snooty mage knight lady, and this blue gremlin with a hammer. So, this is a great group to get caught in a typhoon with in the middle of the damn ocean!

    He keeps his feet solid as the boat is rocked, and it doesn't take a genius to realize they're taking on water. "Well, great! Any bright ideas, mon capitaine?" He asks, fake french accent for maximum snarky effect.

    He makes a beeline for the portal, leaping through before they run out of ship. "Sorry about your ship, pal. Bill us, we'll pay ya back." He claps Preble on the shoulder on the other end, before drawing his pistols.

    Ysuran does briefly turn in Lucatiel's direction, peering at her curiously. For a necromancer, he does very little cackling or visibly evil plotting, and a lot of wide-eyed innocent looks! It's one of these, tinged with more than a fair bit of curiosity, that he sends in her direction.

    The crashing of the ship definitely gets his attention, though, and he falls to the deck with the force of the crash. Fortunately he can stand up pretty quickly. Because it won't take long before the talk of the ship's sinking will come up to the deck and they'll learn of it.

    Of course, moron that he is, Ysuran's concerned with the crew and, counter to good sense, heads down below deck to try to get as many people out of there as he can. Fortunately he knows a Haste spell, which means he can move pretty fast. Even with that though, idiot elf is going to end up JUST BARELY escaping the ship's sinking, and even then probably only thanks to Emily's portal.

    And he's STILL helping the crew, trying to usher others through it. He won't be able to get everyone, that's impossible. But those he can will live. At least... a little longer, anyway.

    "Of course," Octavia replies, lips tugging into a smile that can almost be described as 'aggressive'. "I'm here."

    That's about the time the ship pulls hard to port.

    Things get very dangerous, very fast. Surprisingly enough, she manages to keep her footing when the ship is hit - although it's a very near thing, even with help from the railing. "Tch. What a thoroughly brutish entrance...!" The noblegirl doesn't waste her time bitching, though; Emily has them an exit, and she's right through it as soon as she can be.

    Of course, once she's there, she's already bringing Hauteclere up into a guarded position, fingertips resting on one of the runic spells etched into the blade.

  Lucatiel keeps her arms folded, head tilted just far enough to suggest she's listening to everyone. She's about to comment when the U.S.S. Pickering suddenly slews hard to port, like a toy boat that's just been slapped to one side.

  The fencer is uncerimoniously flung across the wheelhouse, hat knocked off her head by the inertia. She has the sense to cover her head with her arms as she's thrown into a bulkhead, crashing to the ground with a clatter of equipment.

  She snatches at her hat as she leaps back to her feet with a growl. No sooner does the U.S.S. Pickering wallow than she reaches out, seizing Captain Preble by the wrist in one hand, and the helmsman by the other. Both men (elves?) are bodily hauled towards Emily's portal.

  ...Whether they like it or not. She's strong. Turns out swinging a big huge sword around for a day job pays off.

  By the time they're on the other side, Lucatiel releases them, giving them a push to get them out of her personal space. The hat is adjusted fastidiously back into place, and then the mask and hat turn to regard Ysuran. She saw that look. After a moment, long enough for him to know she's looking straight at him, she turns to regard the others; once it's clear everyone is here, she looks up to the cruise liner they find themselves aboard.

  Nice boat.

  ...But now what? Whose boat is this? And why is it here? Suddenly unease, the knight draws her rapier, keeping its point down toward the deck but ready in her hand.

>> SUMMARY[Lucatiel of Mirrah] >> LUCATIEL is dragging the CAPTAIN and the HELMSMAN through EMILY'S SUPER-COOL PORTAL. Also, getting the hell out of DODGE before it SINKS.

    With the ship sinking so rapidly a few men look a little... Disbelieving at Poppy saying she'll pull them up, but with people rushing the portal, they'll take what they can get, reaching for the extended hammer. No sooner than Emily's portal opens, Preble is already ushering as many of his crew as he can for it and Ysuran, right before he and the helmsman are snatched up by Lucatiel and hauled through themselves.
    When all is said and done, some of the crew has been saved. ... Not a lot, but more than would have survived if the offworlders weren't here. Had that been the case, the Pickering would have been lost with all hands.
    The deck of the passenger liner is... Decrepit. No one has been been up here for a long time. The wood is rotted, the metal is rusted, and everything is covered in a pattina of salt and filth. Save for a set of footprints that lead into an open door that goes into the ship itself.
    "I'll... Stay here and help my men recover." Preble says after a beat of trying to rally himself. "IF you'd be so kind as to explore further in, maybe we can find the cause for all this mess." She says motioning for the open door.
    Inside the door is an expansive dining area. Though the grand table is devoid of food and decorated only in a ratty old cloth cover, the cieling is high and decorated in ornate carvings of angels and cherubim that are all beginning to fall apart.
    And the door slams shut behind the group.
    There's silence for a long beat. Before something shuffles in the darkness and gloom.
    The figure that emerges is a lone man in a fine suit. Or at least, it would have been a fine suit, except it's ratty and worn by time. So is the man. Because the flesh has nearly rotted off his bones. Hollow eyes stare vacantly as he reaches out, groaning lowly as he makes a shambling beeline for the group, hungrily gnashing...
    But of course where there is one zombie... There is always a horde. And when the one emerges, so does a mass of them. Men. Women. All in rotted finery, all hungrily groaning for fresh meat as they set their sights on the group. There is... A lot of them. And the only way out of the dining hall is to get through them to the doors on the other side.

     Poppy proves her impressive strength by hauling up all of the crewmembers who take her hammer, tossing them up onto the deck of the larger liner one by one until everyone who can be saved has been. Then, slinging her hammer across her back again, digging her fingers into the ship's hull and leaving little dents as she goes, she pulls herself up as well to join the others.

"Can't say I've ever been a fan of haunted ships. Never been on one, I mean, but I think I saw one during the Harrowing out at Bilgewater one year. It wasn't the main concern at the time though, you understand." she says to whoever will listen, giving Preble a reassuring pat as she walks towards the door. "Well, being inside beats being out in the storm at least. You guys rest up out here until you're ready to join us, cap'n."

And then the door closes behind them, and what do you know, there's a shambling group of undead in the dining hall. "...Okay, so, you know what I said about the Harrowing? I'm starting to think it came early this year." she grimaces, unhooking her hammer and buckler to charge into the rotting throng, aiming to clear a path with some help from her two best friends.

Her two best friends are Mr. Hammer and Shieldy, by the way.

    Once everyone's through, a mass of what appears to be silvery glitter comes through the portal, and coalesces to form Emily, but wearing a black version of Dante's outfit plus a sports bra, and with hair that looks very similar to his but tied into a ponytail. Plus there's a pair of large falchion swords on her back. "... Reapplying Capacitor Seal 3," she says, trying and failing to keep the embarrassment out of her voice, and the pearlescent aura rebuilds itself around her before fading. "Sometimes you just gotta panic, I suppose. Aha. Ahaha. Uhhhhhh ..."

    In another swirl of nanomachines, two extra arms materialize on her body, and she gives Captain Preble a quadruple thumbs-up as she follows the group. "... should've kept my hat so I could do something dramatic with it," she mutters as she passes by Lucatiel.

    But her words are cut off by the door-slam. "Hey dude!" she says as the first zombie shuffles forward. Couldn't hurt; she's pretty sure she's standing right next to some sort of zombie, after all, and she doesn't want to accidentally kill someone she could have a chat with. But nope, these are the dreary angry kind of zombie.

    She lets out a theatrical sigh, and conjures up a half dozen spikes of silvery light, shooting each of them through the heads of the nearest couple of zombies as she starts strolling forward. Then she conjures up another half-dozen spikes, and goes for the next-nearest zombies ...

    Octavia has a bit of healing to offer Preble's men; it's not much, no more than the magical equivalent of first aid, but it will help. Once they're all seen to, she'll give the captain a nod. "We'll see what we can do, captain." She's fully willing to move at the front of the group; indeed, she conjures up a small, warmly glowing ball of elemental Light to illuminate their path - about two seconds before the door slams behind them.

    Octavia does not yelp. She does not. You're imagining things. How thoroughly awful of you. Don't you dare tell anyone.

    But where a sudden loud noise might theoretically be an issue for the young scion of Tenebrae, what comes shambling out towards them prompts a seemingly out-of-place smile. "My, but these are some thoroughly unlucky undead."

    With a series of quick, sweeping gestures, Hauteclere inscribes a set of runes in the air with glowing, gold-white holy energy; and then a sweep of the blade sets them off, unleashing a wide fountain of holy energy - not Light, but proper Holy - into the throng of undead. "May the light of Rilarn's judgment bring you the peace your curse has denied you!"

    No wonder Ysuran's 'death sense' was going nuts! Sadly, most of the elf's spells either work best on the living, or might be dangerous to allies in close quarters. But, well. Why bother fighting when you can let others do it for you? Or, well. Hopefully.

    Dark words borne of shadowy pacts with evil beings spring from his lips, and he streches a hand out towards the approaching horde. He seeks to overpower, to bend their (hopefully) limited minds to his will. It won't get them all, but hopefully it will be over to overpower at least a few.

    It works a little like charm... but instead of trying to convince the zombies that Ysuran is an ally, it just sort of takes over their body and makes them obey him. His command is, of course, attack the other zombies.

    It's fortunate that, despite his chosen profession of necromancer, that he himself is not undead, nor is his body powered or bolstered by necrotic-elemental type energy. Else Octavia's magic might hurt. As-is though, he merely winces at the bright light.

>> SUMMARY[Ysuran Auondril] >> Ysuran casts DARK POSSESSION. The magic sounds/smells like evil and wrong, because it's granted by the dark goddess Shar

    Dante's pissed he couldn't help more, mostly at himself. All he can really do is reassure the survivors of the crew. "You guys sit tight, we'll handle anything ahead of us." He promises with a smile, before he begins to carry along. Emily's choice in outfit does help him perk up a bit. "Heh, is it narcissistic to say I approve?" He asks Emily, giving a teasing wink.

    He barely flinches when the door slams shut, he just cocks his guns at the shuffling figure.

    There's no "Hey, are you okay?" or any dicking around with this zombie, Dante just lights it up along with more of its brethren as they begin to approach. "C'mon, boys, take a number, one at a time!" Dante calls out.

    Octavia's not exactly necrotic, but he does wince at the Holy spell as he ducks behind the scion and Ysuran for a moment, before feeling a sizzling sensation on his skin. Dante cringes, not unlike a vampire faced with the sight of a crucifix, and lets out a hiss of pain as he tries to power through the holy effects. "Hsssss! Damn, that's definitely Holy magic...burns the same." He grunts in pain, but Dante's tougher than that. He just draws his sword and works his annoyance out on some zombies, Rebellion deftly splitting a few of the undead in half before Ysuran's spell can take effect.

  Leaning over, the fencer raps at the metal deck railing with the flat of her rapier, recoiling a little at the discordant note of ringing metal. That sure is some rotting deck railing, and with some disdain, she flicks her blade to cast off the flakes of rust left behind.

  "Decrepit," she observes, sounding almost puzzled. "Where has this ship come from?"

  The mask turns very slightly as Emily passes by. Though the knight snorts, distorted by the mask, there's a thread of amusement in the sound.

  "...Do what you must," the woman sighs, to the captain and helmsman. She eyes the captain for a moment, mask giving away nothing. "...Very well. We shall investigate. Be ready to move, if you must. I mislike this..."

  She files after the others, into the dining room. Lucatiel doesn't jump when the door slams shut, but she does sigh again, reaching up and adjusting her hat. Really, boat? Really?

  Sound in the gloom. The rapier flicks up and at the ready with a metallic /snick/, its bladed edge a bright stripe of silver in the half-light. When the lone man reveals himself, the point of the rapier doesn't so much as waver. Lucatiel has shifted subtly into a balanced posture, ready to attack or defend.

  Oh, look, it's a zombie.

  "/Kuh/." It's a sound of pure disgust and tightly-controlled rage as she dances away from the flailing arms and tattered finery. She stays towards the edges of the group, harassing the shambling zombies that stray too far from the knot in the middle. Her rapier is put to good use; quick and precise strikes meant to disable and dispatch, severing heads, limbs, or anything else she can reach.

  The rapier is forged Mirrahi steel, and Lucatiel keeps it murderously sharp.

  Lucatiel is also making a very unsubtle point of keeping the group of zombies between herself and Octavia, because the things Octavia is doing are starting to really feel uncomfortable.

  That is to say Lucatiel is screaming on the inside because it feels like someone's jamming a lit torch against the edges of her senses ARGH ARGH ARGH WHY.

  She concentrates for now on butchering those that get away from the group, and those that might threaten her allies among the group. Not that she has any particular attachment to any of these people, but letting allies be eaten by zombies would be unprofessional... and it's also personal. She is better than these ravening, hungering hordes. She is in /control/ of herself.

  There is a shout from the other side of the group away from Octavia. "BLOOD AND SAND!" It's a piercing war-cry as Lucatiel sheathes her rapier and brandishes the cavalry greatsword. The heavy blade lays about like a bludgeon, cutting as well as batting figures away with the flat. "I AM LUCATIEL OF MIRRAH, AND YOU SHALL DIE HERE!"

  ...Except they're already dead...

>> SUMMARY[Lucatiel of Mirrah] >> Cutting up zombies. STAYING AWAY FROM OCTAVIA. Switching weapons and cutting more zombies. STAYING AWAY FROM OCTAVIA. Also, STAYING AWAY FROM OCTAVIA.

    It's a rush to get across the grand dining hall. Poppy leads into the fray with Mr. Hammer and Shieldy, battering into the zombies and breaking brittle bones, starting the push as Dante fires Ebony and Ivory into the masses, turning zombies into swiss cheese.
    Emily's silvery spikes puncture and pirce, while Octavia's holy font washes away the undead masses. And just like that a squad of the damned break off from the others, now under Ysuran's thrall turn on their horde, causing chaos in the already dissheveled ranks of the undead, while Lucatiel's finesse and fury keep any stragglers from catching the group unaware as they make it across the grand hall and through the next door.
    This door doesn't shut behind the group, which means the undead will follow them through it if they pause, but it leads to a hall; a corridor of rotted steel and rusted iron piping. This was a part of the old luxury ship that was clearly not meant to be seen by the passengers, a hallway for the crew only that leads through the mazelike corridors of the ship. And the further the group progresses, the louder something gets...
    It's a soft tune; a melancholy and mournful song coming from a flute. And it's coming from a locked door down the hall.
    That is to say, the door is barred to keep something inside it. Though the bar is a bit rusty, with some work, the group could unlock it if they so choose.

     Poppy bashes her way through the mass of zombies, then stays at the door to make sure everyone gets through it before going through herself. "Pretty impressive skills everyone's got, but I have to wonder if the crew outside are going to be alright. Shouldn't we go back to check on them?" she asks, very deliberately ignoring the music from down the hall. "Whoever's in there is probably pretty darn safe, just saying."

    Octavia is perfectly confident in posture and poise; she's thoroughly in her element!

    ...Until, that is, Dante steps back with a hiss of pain. "Eh?!" She ceases slinging around holy spells immediately, turning to the demon hunter with a concerned look. "A-ah, I'm sorry-! I didn't- it didn't occur to me that someone in the group might-" Ahem! Octavia, control yourself. You're a Tenebrae. That's exactly what father would be saying if he were here, right? Right.

    "E-er, that is to say, my deepest apologies for the discomfort my magic has caused you. Both of you," she adds, with eyes towards Lucatiel. She didn't miss that. "I can fight with a bit more precision for your sakes!"

    And that's why she waits until everyone else is through the door and out of the dining hall to make her move. "Keep going! I've a spell that can delay them!" She stands back from the door a few paces, and with more sweeping flicks of her blade, conjures forth a spell that Dante might just remember. The runes flare with a light that washes over her surroundings, bathing the ground around the dining hall door with sacred radiance. It's a Holy Ground spell, and while it won't last very long, it should delay the zombies long enough for them to get an even better lead.

    Of course, that means she's lagging behind the group by a few paces when they finally reach the door, so she might need just a second or two to catch her breath.

    Emily raises an eyebrow at Octavia's display. Then another eyebrow at Ysuran's. "Iiiiiiinteresting, times two combo!" she says. She isn't perturbed by either the light or the darkness; she isn't any kind of demon, she's just a magical robot.

    She tilts her head at an unnatural angle and grins at Dante. "This is not my first 'sister' look," she says cheerfully as she draws the two falchions in her upper pair of hands, and her arms extend unnaturally long as the hacks and slashes at any zombies that get too close. (Which is not as close as it could be!)

    She looks over at Poppy. "Y'know what," she says, "now that I'm not distracted by a bunch of goddamn zombies ..." She waves her hand the way she did back on the Pickering. A staticky portal opens up, but ... there's nothing on the other side, and it immediately closes. "Wait, what." She frowns. "... some kind of interference ... hmm ... gimme a sec ..."

    Once Ysuran gets far enough away, his Dark Possession should fade. It's a temporary spell anyway, usually wearing off in a few minutes. Hopefully the horde will break off their pursuit by the time they get to the door. But, well. One of these newly re-dead is going to get raised as a skeleton for him. So yeah, there will be a boney boi following him, if he has his way about things!

    Emily's words get a blink. "Have you seen that sort of magic before?" He looks hopeful, as if hoping to glean some information. He also makes certain that Octavia isn't actually falling far enough behind that she's in trouble. He looks back worriedly when he notes she's not with them, and the worry doesn't ease from his features until she's caught up to them.

    And as they near that door... Ysuran frowns. "...So this is where it's coming from," he mutters quietly. "I've been hearing the sound of that flute since we set out from the docks."

    Notably, this is just about the first he's spoken (not counting his horrible, twisted spell words) to the rest of the group on this trip; his voice possesses a raspy, slightly nasally quality to it. Though it lacks the 'evil' undertones of some sort of dark overlord. Consequently, it just sounds like he's a book nerd that doesn't speak often.

    Dante winces, "It's fine, not the first time it's happened." He assures Octavia, casually splitting a zombie in half as they make their way toward the grand hall, then a corridor of steel and piping.

    "Get the feeling we found out what happened to that SOS." he points out.

    Ysuran does get a look from Dante, "Didn't think to bring that up before, did you?" He says with a small hint of suspicion, warily watching the elf for a moment as he approaches the locked door.

    Dante thinks for a moment, then brings Rebellion down onto the door to break it down like a fireman with an axe.

  With surgical strikes to the group's flanks, Lucatiel does her best to keep the hordes of the unliving from reaching the actual living. As the group thins out, she maintains a position near the rear of the group, batting and slashing at any of the zombies that stray too close.

  And yet, despite the discomfort, she'll wait near Octavia when the young lady has to pause and catch her breath, ready to ward off any zombies that get too close as Octavia recovers.

  Anyway, even if they don't go fast, the zombies are still a lot slower than the living*. They fall away quickly enough. Lucatiel keeps her sword at hand, though, as she catches her breath. She walks backwards to keep an eye on their backtrail, head tilting slightly to listen to the others.
  "Thank you," she offers, to Octavia. The woman's low voice behind the mask sounds incredibly sincere. That's very thoughtful of the young lady.

  ...That haunting flute echoes bizarrely through the bronze mask of forged Mirrah bronze. It's a melancholy tune; such that Lucatiel's expression actually falls, behind the mask, although nobody can see it.

  "'It is an old story, the story of the mermaid,'" Lucatiel recites. Her voice is soft and strangely halting. "'It is said that they would lure ships and sailors to the depths with their voices...'"

  * One of the party members is not, in fact, actually alive.

>> SUMMARY[Lucatiel of Mirrah] >> Acting as rearguard. Listening to and heartbroken by mysterious flute song. MYSTERIOUS LORE DROP.

    With Octavia's hallow ground spell, the zombies will not be crossing the threshold of the door in any time soon, and eventually give up on their chase. Which leaves the group at this mysterious door with even more mysterious and sad flute music playing from behind it... And while Emily tries her portals and finds them ineffective just for the moment, Dante smashes through the door with ease. It's old, rusted, and his superhuman strength is more than enough to plow it inwards as he cleaves Rebellion through rotted steel.
    There's a squeak of terror on the other side of the door, and the room opens into... A small chamber. There's a sink, a bed, and a mirror, and it was likely once used as some crewman's cabin. But most importantly on the other side is the sole figure that comes rushing at the devil hunter.
    It's a girl. A small girl with a flute in hand, and she clings to his leg grunting and whimpering, without saying so much as a word, a pleading look in her eyes.
    But there's no missing it as soon as the moonlight shines through the porthole and hits her. Her hair is a deep shade of sea green, and the scales on her cheeks and arms say that she might not be entirely human.

     Once Octavia ensures that the zombies won't follow them, Poppy nods to Emily. She caught a glimpse of those portals earlier, and now she has an idea of what the strange mage might have in mind... only it doesn't work. "Welp, I'm out of ideas. Guess we see who's in that cell after all-"

Dante smashes the door down, cutting her off. With a shrug, the yordle warrior approaches the cell in time to see the mysterious occupant come running to Dante, and the look of her skin and hair bring one impression to mind. "Oh, a Marai? That's one of the vastayan tribes, they live underwater and have scales and... well admittedly they look a little /more/ fishy than that, but..."

    Emily shrugs and turns her trademark amused and faintly smug smile on Ysuran. "I don't know," she says. "I find all sorts of things interesting." Her smile widens at Dante's suspicious comment, and she doesn't look away from Ysuran. "And I notice even more things, necromancer," she adds, gesturing with one of her swords. "Now, bear with me while I force open an opening in my dimensional field --"

    She pauses as Dante smashes into the room, and ...

    ... suddenly there's a little girl. Emily lowers her weapons. "Holy shit, a mer-baby," she says, talking over Poppy's explanation. Everything clicks into place, or at least as into-place as they tend to get as far as Emily's conclusions are concerned. "Wow. Modern problems require modern solutions, eh?" The balance of her expression shifts further towards shrug.

>> SUMMARY[Emily Nyx] >> Emily smugs at Ysuran, then demonstrates that she doesn't fully get the whole 'not cussing in front of kids' thing.

    Dante bursts in expecting monsters, or worse, but instead he gets a little kid? He grunts in surprise with a soft 'oof', before realizing what's glomping him is a little girl with fishy features. "Whoa, hey! Easy there, we're here. We're..." Then he spies the flute, reaching to grab it. "Wait, is this the flute you were talking about?" He asks Ysuran, before giving Poppy a funny look. "I mean...close enough?"

    In most circumstances, Octavia would be more than welcoming to such a girl - but given what's been going on, the young noblewoman is wary. Hauteclere doesn't go into its sheath; she watches the mer-person with undisguised suspicion. "Are we certain that isn't the guise of something far more sinister?"

    "There was no time before now," Ysuran replies to Dante's suspicious chiding. However, he also bows his head, placing a hand on his chest. "Nonetheless, you are correct. I should have made more of an effort to bring it up. I apologize."

    Emily's words get a nod then. He seems oddly disappointed. But, at least he doesn't seme to be conspiring anything, so there's that. He goes quiet when that door's broken open. For a moment he tenses as he sees the movement, but pauses when he sees the small girl. He seems just as surprised as anyone.

    Dante's question of the flute gets a nod. "Most likely," he reasons. Then he ventures a guess, "Perhaps she needed help, and the only way to draw attention was to try to draw people here?" Of course, Octavia has a point too. Ysuran nods. "How would we tell?" he inquires.

  "Mermaids are passing rare in this world." Lucatiel's voice is soft, and her head is raised high, as though she were expecting something to follow them down the corridor. Her sword is still a bright stripe of silver in the gloom, bared and ready to leap into action. "A species that hovers on extinction in this world, no less. So close are they to oblivion that even to interact with them is a crime, here."

  She turns, masked face staring straight at the girl clinging to the leg of Dante. The lean line of the cavalry greatsword flicks up once to point at the girl before lowering to hover over the floor. "This girl is a mermaid."

  "She has traded away her voice for the chance at a human body. She cannot speak; her voice was the price of her enchantment. If she speaks, she will die. Thus, the music." Her tone is one of leaden solemnity; the certainty and inexorability of a glacier. The point of Lucatiel's sword flicks up to point at the flute before dropping again. "Be not afraid. I am here on behalf of Salome Highscribe. I am bound by formal contract to defend you with my life. Please be at ease."

  Is her voice just a touch warmer when she addresses the strange, inhuman girl? Naw. Lucatiel doesn't have soft spots for kids or animals.

>> SUMMARY[Lucatiel of Mirrah] >> Lucatiel is expositin' for Salome: "Mermaids are rare. An endangered species on this world, in fact. So close to extinction that dealing with them is illegal in any way shape or form. That girl's a mermaid. But it looks like she exchanged her voice for a curse that gave her a human body. So she's gotta use a flute. But a curse is a curse, and if she utters so much as one word, she'll die on the spot."

    Dante reaches for the flute-- which the girl tugs back protectively. As Lucatiel said, that flute is now her only means of communicating with anyone as she grunts at the Devil Hunter. But there is no trick nor treachery here, just a mermaid that tragically traded her voice only to be locked away on this decrepit ship.
    "Unh! Ugh!" She says, biting on her lip as she looks from face to face and then Lucatiel swears her protection. She draws a breath and begins to gently play on the flute again; drawing another ship in from off the horizon; another Coast Guard ship. It shouldn't be too hard for Emily to open up a portal from here to there, and back to get the remaining crew as well, now.