CLOSED SIGNUPS e s o t e r i c a || DRY SEASON

[Kuno]

PETER O'KEEFE || RIFLEMAN
Location: Campsite​

Angelica awoke at last. Peter hadn't realized he'd been waiting with bated breath until she spoke, and he exhaled slowly. The relief he felt was brief and bittersweet. As she mentioned burying the bodies, his eyes grew distant, and glanced away, his jaw tensed. It would be his second stint digging graves by the campsite.

"Aye, miss. We'll be back soon as we're able," He finally responded with a tight nod. The young woman's eyes had fluttered closed once more. Inwardly, his thoughts drifted beyond Miss Warren.

Bad things come in threes. He remembered the saying well and believed in it whole-heartedly, religiously, even. Roland had been the first. The ravaged campsite the second. The third…Here? There? Back in Ireland? Was it still yet to come, or had wickedness been exacted on his beloved already?

He thought abruptly of Roland's unmarked grave. He could not remember where he'd buried the man, and it bothered him. Where had his mind gone?

The unforgiving heat of Siam pressed against him on all sides as he walked, Alex close on his heels. In the foreground, he spied the cowardly Mr. Ellis and he suppressed the urge to give him a good tongue lashing. He roughly brushed past Finley in the wake of his weak apology.

"We'll discuss this later," He cut in sharply after Alex spoke. He was too keyed up to respond to either of them properly.

The edge of camp came sharply into focus. Peter spotted the doctor by his tent and wasted no time in hustling it over there, launching into an explanation the moment he came upon the man.

"Sir, she's fainted. Girl's awake now, but she still seems a tad woozy."

He remembered what the guide had said earlier and added, "She didn't hit her head, thank the lord. Miss Alex caught her before she hit the ground...though you ought to check her over still, see what's what. Help me settle her-"

With a slight grunt, Peter placed the young woman in one of Dr. Bertrum's chairs, leaning her up against the wooden splat. He took a hard stance against the chair's side, in case the chair shifted in position as she sat.

@DayDreamer @Applo @Nemopedia

 

[Doctor Jax]

Across Great Distances

Charles watched in bewilderment as his chronicler for the trip booked a hasty retreat out into the darkness, without even the aid of lamplight to serve as a reason to wait. It seemed that Thomas had much the same reaction, and he followed after shouting in much the same tone of voice for Tatyana.

"Miss Volkov?! Volkov, slow down, ma'am, where's the fire?!"

The light of the lantern shone in relief on the two men, lighting the way in rhomboids of stone. Briefly, in their madcap dash, the figures around them moved in a strange, ethereal dance of figures, as if the temple had come alive with the movement of the lamp. Dancing women, cobras with many heads, and most notably, above them, the branches of trees, swaying, swaying in some invisible gale as if they were making their way through a forest of massive proportions, all in stone. Their shadows were fleeting flashes of black against a myriad of moving figures, unbeknownst to them. It was only when they reached the atrium hallway that the effect ceased, the ribbing of vines taking over. It encased the stone in a living sheathe, and by the time the men had made it outside, the world had faded to the light blue of twilight, the forest around them nearly black in its density.

Thomas shouted at the men near the entrance to the place, and Charles slowed as his attention was stolen to the man sitting down in front of Andrew and Tau Mai. He swallowed hard, a great relief filling him.

"Thomas, 's just me and Tau Mai. Charles... I believe you know this man," Andrew said, gesturing to the figure that stood shakily with Tau Mai's help. He was unkempt, hair and beard straggling, his clothes tattered and patched with thorns. Yet, under those layers, Charles still recognized him. He walked towards the mysterious stranger, at first slowly, and then at a run. He enveloped the man in a great bear hug, the recipient already laughing hoarsely with arms outstretched.

"God, we thought we'd never find you," Charles professed with a tremble in his voice. He clapped him on the back, hard, looking off into the forest to avoid the gazes of the others about, to hide the shine of his eyes as he embraced his longtime friend. "Angie and I, we.... we thought you were lost, Henry."

"I know, I know..." the man repeated, before Charles finally released him and gave him a stern nod, swallowing hard. He looked back to his comrades, and he gestured to the man before.

"Well... Miss Volkov, Mister O'Reilly... May I introduce to you, formally, Mister Henry Warren."

+++​

Reunion

Set in the chair, Angelica had time to finally get her head about her a bit. Peter's almost nurturing presence had helped her to feel a bit more steady, aware that someone was looking out for her with understanding. Alex had seemed so flippant, but then again, perhaps this was something she saw regularly, a thing which had lost all meaning to her, all gravity. She knew better than to hold that against her, but a part of her was a mite bitter that she had dismissed her grief.

And that dream she had had...

Enough of that now, though. Even as Peter called for the doctor, Danford appeared as soon as he could, the young, fresh-faced man trotting across camp to see what the commotion was all about. Lung El, likewise, had come over, seeing the ruckus, and after hearing what had happened, he rushed back to their makeshift kitchen to begin preparing tea.

"You said she fainted? What was the matter, Miss, was it the heat, or overexertion, or--"

"Oh, Hammy, it was awful, absolutely dreadful," Angelica professed, shaking her head. Flyaway bits of hair stuck from her head as she seemed to try and rub the image out from her forehead. "The last team, they.... we found them, in the woods, far back there. They... oh, they're all dead, every last one. Killed."

Danford turned ashen at the revelation, looking to Peter, then to Alex, then to Fin. He swallowed and nodded his understanding, looking back to Angelica.

"Well, it'll be alright, now. You have no need to worry here, Miss."

Angelica nodded her head as Danford began to ask a few more questions, holding up fingers for her to count, before something caught her eye. At the tree line, the captain and Tau Mai were coming back, along with Uncle Charlie in tow, and... a... a man between them who.... who....

Her eyes grew wide as she slowly stood from the chair. The world fell away from her all at once, and she began to walk towards them. Danford, realizing that his charge was leaving him, attempted to entice her to sit, but it was too late. Angelica had taken off at a full run, dress and all, calling out to him.

Amidst the middle of camp, Henry Warren ran to catch his daughter in a hug midway, spinning her and holding on as if he would never again let go.

+++​

Story Time

Greene was more than aware that a briefing was necessary. An amazing amount of things had been found, had been discovered, and Henry's reunion had served to be a hot topic, not the least because of his miraculous ability to survive in this environment. But - those things would have to wait, at least for a little while. No - with the exception of Doctor Pendleton in his tent to tend to Henry in his fragile state, all questions would have to be put off to the following morning, when heads could cool and thoughts be gathered.

In the meantime, there was dinner to be had. And a ghost story that needed told, on Tau Mai's mischievous request of course.

"It not that old of a legend, but it very important to us Thai. It is story about family, about being faithful. It is about being cunning, smart. And it is about warning -- warning about ghosts in this world," Lung El said, standing in near the camp's fire, looking into the eyes of those around. It was full dark now, with the stars peeking only through the gaps in the trees, what gaps there existed. Otherwise, it seemed a dark and insurmountable ink which filled the forest, turned all pitch black save for what could be seen by the light of the fire and torches.

"We, here, in Siam, we always at war with Burma, the land to the west. They come, take our land, and we fight them back - again, and again," Lung El began, his voice soft but carrying despite the cacophony. "So we send young man to fight Burma. His name is Mak, and he is young, strong man with a wife, Nak. He leave his village when Nak has a pregnancy to fight in this war with Burma. Even though he is strong, he become hurt and he rest in Bangkok for a long time, over one year. So after - war with Burma is over. He go back home. There, he see his wife, Nak with his baby, a young boy, and he is very, very happy."

Here, Lung El bowed his head, as if in respect. He shook it in lament.

"One day, when he work in his field, old woman, Yai Gae, she drag him away and say to him... 'Mak. You must know, your wife, your son, they are pi. A ghost. She die while you are away. I see, myself, when she die giving birth. She is dangerous.' Mak do not believe her, because Nak is at home, making dinner. How can she be pi? So he tell her she is crazy, and he go home to Nak, where she make him his favorite - Fry Fish with Nam Prik, lime juice and chili. Then, next day, same thing a younger woman, Na. 'Your wife, your son, they are pi. Mak, you are in great danger!' No, he not believe them. His wife, she make him good food, same food, all the time, and his boy, he play with him. They cannot be pi. Third time, a young girl, Dokmai. She say the same thing. He still not believe."

The crackle of the fire was a backdrop to the caw of birds, the trill of insects in the dark. Lung El's face was shadowed in the fire.

"One day, he go to the market. And he ask where is Yai Gae, Na, and Dokmai? They tell him, 'Mak, they die. Their throat.... it cut, like this, in their home.'"

He demonstrated with a finger across his own throat, in mockery of a smile.

"Mak still not believe, but he start to worry. Now, Thai house, it is high up, on legs. Nak not see him coming home, and she is making his favorite - Fry Fish with Nam Prik. And she drop a lime, very far down, twelve feet. He watch as her arm, it stretch... all the way down... and it pick up lime from the ground, with an arm twelve feet long. And he know then - his wife is pi. She kill Yai Gae, Na, Dokmai because they try to make Mak leave her. She die while he was away, and if he leave, she kill him too. Scared, he come home and act normal. He do not want to make her angry that he know she is pi, so in the night he say he must go to the bathroom in the forest."

Lung El pointed out into the dark.

"When he look back, he see Nak put her head through the pieces of wood in the floor, neck stretch out and hair hanging down, like a bat. It turn to look for him, back and forth, and when she not see him... she scream, like many babies crying. Mak run as fast as he can, away! But she follow him, very close behind. She want to keep him, forever in her family, because she love him so much. But Mak do not want to die, and he run to the temple, where ground is sacred, and she scream at the door for him to come out, that she love him forever. He go to the monk then, and the monk tell him to get a jar, holy rope, blood, and rice paper. With these things, the monk seal away Nak and her son into the jar, wrap it in rope, and he chant over it. So she cannot kill again, he throw her into the canal with heavy rocks, so she sink to the bottom."

Lung El halted here, looking about.

"But, at Phra Khanong, people suddenly die again, after ferryman pull up old jar and open it..."

With a screech, Muhammad Chonravit, one of the auxiliaries, and Mawvan, another rifelman, appeared on either side of the group in long wigs of black to scare them at just the right dramatic entrance, earning several thwacks for their antics as Lung El finally cracked a smile, weary though it was. Andrew got up at that to address the group.

"Alright, I think that's quite enough now. So! On the agenda tomorrow. I've been told we are scopin' out some work inside the temple, to see if we can't move some rubble from a doorway. Peter, Mawvan, Taumai, Andrej, that'll be your job. The girls'll be stayin' back here at camp with Lung El. We're going to have a chat on concerns for those of you that has 'em tomorrow morning at dawn, as I know there's... lots of questions," Andrew said, giving looks to a few key members. "But for right now, just try and get some rest. Long day tomorrow. Peter, you and I, we'll get first watch tonight. Then, Muhammad and Helmut. Last watch is Orville and Charlie. Alright - night, night! Don't let Mae Nak bite!"

With that, he dismissed them, though not before playfully slapping Muhammad in the back of the head. The Southern Thai only snickered, making a spooky face with the long wig.

Spoiler

Okay, so this is a looooong post, but I think y'all can stomach that a little bit. Just tons of meat. Here, y'all can split up into your different tents! I'll let y'all suss out who is sleeping where, as that will determine who'll be talking to whom tonight - if they want to. I'm going to have this as an optional post round, especially with the holidays. If you feel like chatting it up with someone to discuss the spoooooky story that you just heard, or your frustrations with Greene, or really anything, go wild! In the meantime, Greene and Henry Warren are in Greene's tent with Bertrum (@Applo). Now just because you've been asked not to harass Greene doesn't mean you can't.... @Kuno @Red Thunder @Ritual Lobotomy @DayDreamer @Nemo

 

[DayDreamer]

Alex had rolled her eyes and had muttered a "Whatever you say boss." in mocking tone. She did not like being dismissed and bossed around like that, but she knew better than to push the string while it was so taught. She didn't want to break them. There was no need for that yet. They had barely even started their expedition.

She had followed silently back to the campsite, her mind gears turning and her eyes now more focused, looking for any signs of human presence other than theirs. She would have to scout soon. Preferrably as soon as first light. She would not end up with a spear through her chest anytime soon thank you very much.

While everybody fussed over the poor fair lady, Alex sat calmly out of the way and in the sidelines, watching the scene unfold. She was about to ask where Greene was, but her question was answered when Angelica sprang over to greet a wild man with tears in her eyes. It didn't take long for Alex to put two and two together and realize she could see a father-daughter reunion. Her brow furrowed momentarily. The thought of her father and her relationship to him brought a darkness out. A darkness that soon disappeared as Greene was not far behind.

Considering reasonable Greene's request to keep all questions until after they had dinner, she decided to do just that. Surprisingly, Lung El's cooking was good despite the lack of ingredients. She had thanked him with a bright smile as she got her portion and had made herself comfortable by the fire. Tau Mai's request for a ghost story won him points with Alex and she perked up as Lung El indulged them.

"We, here, in Siam, we always at war with Burma, the land to the west. They come, take our land, and we fight them back - again, and again. So we send young man to fight Burma. His name is Mak, and he is young, strong man with a wife, Nak. He leave his village when Nak has a pregnancy to fight in this war with Burma. Even though he is strong, he become hurt and he rest in Bangkok for a long time, over one year. So after - war with Burma is over. He go back home. There, he see his wife, Nak with his baby, a young boy, and he is very, very happy." A knowing smile graced her lips. She knew this story. Her dad had told her about it, her mother bless her soul had told her about it, the monk that had given her her first tattoo had told her about it. Everyone seemed to know this story and they all seemed to have a different opinion on it. Her father was scared, her mother was respectful, the monk had tried to use it as an example like Lung El had.

The story continued and Alex played along, building up tension as they reached the end of the story. "But, at Phra Khanong, people suddenly die again, after ferryman pull up old jar and open it..." This brought a shiver up her spine. She knew. Her father had returned from Phra Khanong and he had been terrified. He had insisted she got her first tattoo even though he had dismissed the monks as superstitious fools before. Something had happened during that trip and hearing Lung El's warning she sucked in a breath. "Here we go...." She whispered and not a moment too soon, two more rifflemen appeared out of the dark, screeching and mimicking Nak's face, or what they thought Nak's face would have looked like with long black hair covering most of her face. She laughed along with them and it was loud and boisterous.

"Alright, I think that's quite enough now. So! On the agenda tomorrow. I've been told we are scopin' out some work inside the temple, to see if we can't move some rubble from a doorway. Peter, Mawvan, Taumai, Andrej, that'll be your job." The expedition leader announced, spoiling the fun. "The girls'll be stayin' back here at camp with Lung El. We're going to have a chat on concerns for those of you that has 'em tomorrow morning at dawn, as I know there's... lots of questions," Andrew said, his gaze lingering on Alex. "Oh Hell no! Are you stupid? Grounding your scout?!" She protested, yet Andrew ignored her. "But for right now, just try and get some rest. Long day tomorrow. Peter, you and I, we'll get first watch tonight. Then, Muhammad and Helmut. Last watch is Orville and Charlie. Alright - night, night! Don't let Mae Nak bite!"

Growling in annoyance, Alex got up and made her way to Greene. She was not going to be played and she was not going to take this "women stay put" bullshit. She was told they would have a chat after dinner and so they would. There was no getting rid of her that easily.
---------
OOC: Let the sass matches begin!

 

[Red Thunder]

Tatyana Volkov

Another Lost Legend​

Alex, bold and daring, may have taken offense at the orders for tomorrow's activities, but Tatyana sighed deeply as some small rigidity bled from her shoulders. Even considering re-entering that awful place seemed, at the moment at least, more dreadful than anything she could consider. There were answers in that temple, to be sure, and the journalist within was furious at this cowardice, sacrificing a stern word concerning assignments in favor of mute acceptance. Something sat in that temple, lurking, biding it's time for- something. Ana's gaze followed the group's guide as she strode after their financier. They didn't know.

None of them did.

°°°​

Like the rattle of a Gatling gun, Tatyana's feet stuck the stones beneath her in rhythmic and rapid succession. Her eyes were nearly bugging, sharp and watchful in her fear. Her breaths had long since abandoned her diaphragm and now came short, shallow, and tight in her lungs. A whiteness seemed to bleed across her vision, obscuring what little she could see of her path as she hyperventilated severely. The Khuman Tong pressed into her skin, driven there by the notepad the journalist clutched as a drowning woman does a ringed lifesaver against her chest. There was no end to the stone, no distance gained to freedom and safety. It taunted her, the Temple, a location now clearly shown to be a thing of malicious intent that begrudged any inquisition into its depths. The friezes that rushed past sneered and mocked her, and she began to imagine herself joining them, frozen in rock eternally to be gawked at and studied by overly curious idiots like herself. Or to be erased by whatever monstrous beast lurked within the ancient building, destroyed as the friezes had been long ages before they had even arrived in Siam.

Horror and lightheadedness weighed on her brain heavily, and the whiteness began overcoming what little sight remained to her. Her feet moved out of instinctual desperation, sometimes catching uncertainly on breaks in the flagstone before reasserting themselves and pressing onward. Figures appeared through the haze, two large and one small, and she screamed as she tried to halt her forward progress. But her vision blanked completely, and Ana missed her footing. Briefly, she had the sensation of pitching forward before she fell completely unconscious.

She wasn't out long, best she could tell. Nor had she fallen far. She stood upright, more or less, held up so by a firm grip. Ana blinked, shaking her head.

"Ms. Volkov! Ms. Volkov! You need to slow down; you'll hurt yourself!"

It was a pleasant voice, if edged in hardship, and she couldn't place the accent. Then suddenly, she could.

"Mr. Andrew!"

And the ghosts fled. They stood in the blessed open air, surrounded by jungle and no longer by stone. Besides Andrew, two others were with her: Tau Mai and a stranger. She breathed deeply, slowing her heart-rate, before saying more.

"Thank you! I cannot say what came over me."

"Perhaps we can find out." Thomas and Mr. Greene finally emerged, as if on cue, and Andrew gestured to them.

"Thomas, 's just me and Tau Mai…"

The following introduction was surprising, given what Mr. Greene had told her about the previous expedition. Ana eyed the gentleman inquisitively. Henry, Mr. Greene called him. If it was, she had a list of questions to ask. But one stuck out, taking precedence.

The last expedition was lost. Your expedition. Yet here you stand. What happened?

The words jammed in Tatyana's throat, catching on a lingering paranoia. They were still too near by far to the Temple, and she wished to be back in the camp immediately. Graciously, this was granted her before too long, and they were soon en route, though Tatyana kept shooting terrified looks over her shoulder, as if she expected to hear chanting again.

°°°​

As the others moved about, she remained seated on her log, brow furrowed as she contemplated the small expedition inside the temple. She could take all the notes and make all the charcoal rubbings she wanted, but ultimately it didn't mean anything to her. And she needed to tell someone about the chanting. The unexpected return of Henry still needed looking into, but strangely, the temple felt more pertinent. More pressing.

More threatening.

"Lung El?"

Ana approached him hesitantly, still unclear on appropriate honorifics and customs that might ensure the man felt respected. At a loss, she gave a hesitant bow at the shoulders.

"A moment? I- well, it was a play of the echos in the stone, perhaps, but I thought I heard chanting while within the temple. Do you know what the temple was used for, long ago?"

 

[Applo]

---

"Take a deep breath for me."

A rushing sound filled Bertrum's left ear. After repositioning the stethoscope to the other side of Henry sunken chest he smiled encouragingly at the old gent.

"And aga..."

The sound of rustling canvas caused both Doctor and patient to twist to see Charles Greene ducking his way into the tent.

"Just finishing up now, shan't be more than a few moments longer. There is some tea in the pot if you wish to partake." There was a slight pause a Bertrum put his ear back to the stethoscope. "Ok Mr Warren, one more deep breath for me."

Once again the rushing cacophony drowned out the world around the Doctor and momentarily transported him all the way back to Surrey. How strange it was to know that he was actually on the other side of the world and not in his surgery doing something he would never have dreamed of doing before. If someone had told him a year ago this would be what he was doing he would have told them they were barmy. Wasn't life strange.

"Capital stuff, that will be all for now Mr Warren." After depositing his Stethoscope back in its case, Bertum planted himself in a chair that allowed him to look easily at both Mr Warren and Mr Greene and sipped at a mug of tea for a moment.

"As far as I can tell gentlemen, you Mr Warren are in remarkably fine fettle everything considered. I would like to tidy up your tongue but unless events force things I think that that might be a job best left for a return to civilisation. That aside, there doesn't appear to be anything wrong with you that some good bed rest a three square meals a day won't fix, which I must say, seems quite remarkable sir." Settling back in his chair, the doctor was silent for a few moments before focusing his attention the expedition leader.

"I heard fragments of your plan for tomorrow Mr Greene, is it possible to know how you expect the next couple of weeks to pan out? In as rude health as your friend here is, I feel it might be better for him to be somewhere more conducive to recovery. If we could get him back to the port, I'm sure passage to somewhere like Calcutta could be arranged easily enough. I'm not sure this jungle is the best place for convalescing."​

---

 

[Kuno]

THE NIGHT'S VIGIL
Collab betweeb @Kuno | @Doctor Jax
​

Events unfurled in tandem back at camp. Peter could not do much but go along with it; he was but a hired man, not too learned, and so resolved to keep quiet and not to ask too many questions - at Greene's own request. He'd reserved what little he'd had to say for Andrew. He was their captain, after all, and had deserved to know of the party's gruesome discovery.

Still, no one had been hurt from their own party, and the brilliant news of Mr. Warren's survival had filled the campsite with good cheer. The day had seen fit to end on a high note, and he was grateful for the brief respite by the fire.

And yet, despite all this...somehow, as always, Peter worried.

His nerves were drawn tighter than a bowstring. Sleep would have done the man well, but the wheels continued to spin in his head, endlessly churning, endlessly carrying on with what he'd seen and heard. He stared off into space, entirely disassociated from the present conversation. The only action the man seemed capable of was eating, and even that was done mechanically.

"But, at Phra Khanong, people suddenly die again, after ferryman pull up old jar and open it..."

And so, he was surprised.

When a figure sprang up from behind him, his mind blanked. His hand darted out, quick and sure, before a sense of awareness kicked in at the last second. He pulled back hard, swearing under his breath.

"Feckin'...you miserable lot."

Laughter washed over the campsite. Frowning, Peter glanced down and swore again as he realized the rest of his stew had spilled out across the grass. His expression flattened. Damn bleeding ghost stories. It was no laughing matter to him.

Thankfully, it went no further than Muhammad's and Mawvan's antics. Andrew was quick to set the night and tomorrow's agenda, and Peter paused in his grumbling as their captain addressed him.

First watch. Good. He could hardly rest now anyhow, and it was high time he started earning his keep. Besides, more work would keep his brain occupied by better, utilitarian thoughts. Idle minds were the Devil's playground, so it was said. He'd had more than enough of the Devil and his shenanigans today.

Quietly, he drew to the Aussie's side.

"Where d'ya want me?" He asked.

The other man was in deep, deep thought, despite his genial air. He never liked to show that he was troubled in front of the group - well, not the whole group, anyways. Honesty was key, but sometimes tact was the lesser evil. At Peter's question, he looked up, and he nodded.

"We'll be doin' laps round the camp, mostly. There's far too much ground to stand post, so we're going to keep up a good, slow walkin' pace, mate. Shouldn't be too much an issue, yeah? I hope El and those two clowns haven't scared ya offa talkin' a stroll about camp," Andrew joked, nudging him softly with an elbow. "Let's walk to the car, grab a rifle or two. Wouldn't do to spook a tiger or somethin'."

"Yeah. Sure," Peter replied, shrugging. He forced a small smile at Andrew's comment, though it quickly faded. Tigers were, quite frankly, the very least of his worries. Deciding to air his thoughts, he added, "Though I'm after thinking about the other campsite. Wondering if whatever savages razed the bleeding place will make a go at our camp…"

His brows worried together, and he glanced at the other man. "Has Mr. Warren said what's happened yet?"

Andrew knew the subject would come back around again, and he looked back over at the camp. Angelica was laughing and smiling with Lung El, shaking a finger in mocking chastisement over some 'slight'. He motioned for Peter to follow him, and across the camp they went, towards the cars that had been set up at the edge of camp.

The Aussie drew out a rifle, checked the breech, then loaded it with a round before handing it to Peter. He did likewise again for himself, though not before lighting up a cigarette.

"I actually wanted to take a look at the place m'self, if I'm honest. Preferably in daylight, but if we circle back around, close enough to make a quick walk out… As for Warren, when I found him, he was not terribly coherent, sort of slurrin', mumblin', you know. Kind of happens, when you're out here over a year on your own, never seein' another soul, but… I don't know."

He looked up at Peter, eyes aglow in the light of his cigarette.

"You don't tell anyone this, okay? You seem like you got a good head on your shoulders, and you're not up Greene's backend. Somethin's just not sittin' well with me how all this lined up."

Peter's face was solemn. He said nothing for a moment, his eyes pointedly on the ground as he slung the rifle strap over his shoulder. Finally he met the other man's eyes, the same small smile having returned to his face.

"I'm not nothing but your hired hand, sir," He replied readily, "I've no business sharing what's not mine."

He thought of the letter, of Delia, and his expression softened. "I owe you that at least."

The Aussie had to crack a smile at that, clapping Peter on the shoulder.

"Good man. Oi - I mean it, though. Won't do to have the ladies in a tizzy because I said all this gives me the willies. Now come on, let's walk. We'll head east first, towards the temple."

With that, Andrew took the lead, though it wasn't hard to find the perimeter of the forest. The trees had been cleared where they could be, and so there seemed a solid wall of foliage all the way around camp, delineating where the machetes had ceased their crusade.

"Honestly, not a bad night for patrol. Hot as all bloomin' 'ell, but the moon's out, at least. One time, in Taz, I remember bein' out with some big game hunter. We told 'im he didn't wanna hunt that side of the island, but he was sure he was gonna find one o' them big eagles to take back, never mind they ain't been there nigh fifty years. Ended up holed up on a pitch black night with the natives up our arses."

"Ha! Now there's an adventure for ya. Bet the bleeding bastard never chanced the arm again, eh?"

Peter's steps quickened to keep pace with the taller man's stride.

"I tell you, it's after six or so years I've been doing this. Worst job of me life was spent working in your neck of the woods, for a fair bit of six or so weeks. Damned guide got a touch of madness and split halfway through the desert. Left us to rot, so he did."

Nothing could have truly prepared him for the unrelenting heat of the desert sun. And no one ever mentioned the blistering cold one felt as night fell. Six days they'd spent in that hell, marching on blindly at the whim of their employer. Salvation eventually came in the form of an Aboriginal outpost, but by then it'd been a day too late. They'd had to bury one of the men in the ever-shifting sand dunes. His eyes went to the inky black of the jungle, contemplative.

"We could've used a captain then," Peter went on, shooting Andrew a rueful look. "Maybe things would've gone a wee better with some backbone to it."

Andrew listened intently to the man's story. It had always been a favorite of the Aussie's to listen to others' stories of the trail, of the escapades only those who risked their lives in the wilds could get into. He had to chuckle at the jab at his homeland, nodding his head along. He sobered, looking over at Peter.

"Perhaps. Alas - 'captain' is more a thing people pick, even if one man gets paid for the job. The name means not a jot, only what you can pull people into," Andrew deflected. "I remember a job in Suriname guarding something - explosives, I think - along a river. Their captain weren't worth a single gobshite."

He shook his head and chuckled bitterly.

"Poor management's as deadly as bullets and arrows, unfortunately," Andrew said, wiping his forehead with an arm. It was deathly humid, even in the height of night. The forest continued on at a cacophony.

Peter could only grunt in agreement. He didn't trust himself to respond to that - after all, he counted last year's expedition as an example of poor management, but there was a limit to how much complaining he was willing to do about Mr. Greene. He'd been fool enough to return, after all, and he was getting paid a handsome fee for it. Better to let bygones be bygones.

Their wayward path carried them towards the western end of camp. Peter slowed as they neared a familiar trail cutting north of them, and he raised his light, illuminating the hacked pathway.

"This here's the way to the other campsite."

The jungle canopy loomed large over their heads, cast in nightmarish shadows by the shifting lights of their lanterns. A familiar tension settled in the Irishman's shoulders, green eyes glancing about the surrounding flora with fleeting focus. He was wary of what lay in the dark.

"Miss Warren's asked that we bury the bodies," Peter mentioned quietly. His steps were silent as he led the way. "Not sure what's left to bury or if we've time for such a task later on, but thought I'd bend your ear to it."

"She's a good lass. Soft, in the hands and in the heart, but she'll rough up quick," Andrew said softly, obviously interested in other things at the moment. Gray-green eyes were dark, even in the light of their lanterns, as he lifted it over the burnt remains. He saw something deeper into what was once a village, and he walked closer with picking footsteps. Another corpse, this one of a woman and child. He swallowed as he moved his lantern over the skeletonized remains, the shadows wavering in the dark, to get a better idea of what he was seeing.

There was a stick jammed through the head of the infant. The woman's cause of death was not nearly as easy to parse out, though it did seem to be that she had been in a struggle with another person, a man by the size of the bones and European from the look of his clothes. He was quick to uncover a gun left near his hand, a rifle by the looks of it. Probably not good for much, left out in the elements, but there could be parts that were in tact and useful should their own guns break.

"Aye. Burial's the human thing to do. Plus, we'll try and get whatever weren't burnt for salvage tomorrow morning," Andrew stated, making a call. As he stood, he could see that the same pattern was evident - skulls with sharpened stakes through the middle, as if to pierce through the ears. It was intentional, systematic, without regard for male or female, child or adult, European or otherwise.

Andrew felt his skin prickle with gooseflesh despite the heat.

"Do you notice anythin' odd 'bout this?" Andrew asked Peter, turning to look at the man.

"Looks like a warning to me," Peter managed shakily. His attentions were riveted to the dead babe fallen by it's mother's side. He was struck by the senseless brutality of it all, and he swallowed hard. "Perhaps the work of a rival tribe...or people who wanted to make damn sure no one else brought their sorry hides back.

"An ambush. In the night, I wager," He added, finally tearing his eyes away from mother and child. "Don't know how many came 'long the first time around but...feckin' hell."

He could hardly remember what Mr. Greene had claimed had happened on the first expedition. He didn't remember him mentioning getting as far as the temple. He didn't recall him talking about staying amongst a native village. Frowning, he raised his lantern high, examining more of the wreckage bundled at their foot. As more bodies came to light, his gut churned, and a heady sense of unease filled him. Men and women, and children, too. God rest their souls.

"Saints be...this is the work of demons." Clucking his tongue, he drew closer to one of the corpses, eyeing the wooden spear protruding through their skull. "Mr. Warren's either the luckiest man alive or-"

Peter trailed off as his thoughts caught up with what he was saying, and his expression grew disturbed. He was afraid to say what he was thinking, though the question was clear in his eyes.

How the hell had Mr. Warren managed to escape the bloodbath?

The same thought seemed to be on Andrew's mind as he picked through the wreckage. If any had survived, they were long gone by now. What had driven Warren to stay here? The temple perhaps provided adequate shelter, but the jungle was unforgiving. Following the river would have led to another village - another town - a boat. Instead, he stayed.

"I don't know about an ambush. It looks more like… like chaos just broke out here," Andrew stated. "What looks like Greene's team, they're scattered. The natives, too. No forward advance. Just…"

He chewed his lip, glancing 'round.

"Just fear. Rabid."

Andrew was quiet a while longer.

"We're goin' to have a talk, me and Greene, tomorrow morning. He needs to know about this," Andrew muttered under his breath, hefting his salvaged firearm. "And I need t' know how he means us to engage with the locals. Because something did not go right here."

"Good luck with that," Peter said curtly. "Man's wound up tighter than a fish wife's purse. Saints be willing ya get what's what."

Despite his reply, he was, in fact, anxious to hear what Mr. Greene would have to say - provided he say anything of use at all. As he surveyed the rest of the scattered chaos in silence, he found himself drifting back to the slaughtered mother and child, an odd squint to his eyes. He hesitated; words spilled out of his mouth, barely audible, and he slowly placed a hand on the stake protruding from the infant's skull.

It was bad luck to bury a babe with no release for it's soul. He was no priest, but he felt sure that his heartfelt prayer might do some bit of good for the deceased. Even if it was in Gailege instead of Latin…

He kept it short and to the point. Returning to Andrew's side promptly, he noticed the added rifle to his person, and his hand automatically extended to relieve him of the burden.

"C'mon, I'll mind the gun. Think we ought to be headed back now, anyhow. Not much more we can do tonight..."

 

[Ritual Lobotomy]

THOMAS "TOM" O'REILLY|| NAVIGATOR


And just like that, baffled Thomas remained the farthest from the group, trying to make some bloody sense of what was served to him upon the exit from that forsaken place. Now Charles was running, but he seemed to be running towards something instead of away. A change as refreshing as one could have dared to hope for in conclusion to a rather... eventful day. And yet, just as strange.

The rest of the reunion went on without Tom's undivided attention. As the two men shared an intimate moment, dusty and unamused Tom's stern gaze went from them, over Tau Mai and Andrew, ending briefly on Tatyana just before it hit the ground. Ruffling his messy hair dust-free, Thomas spat on the side and kicked some dust over it as the man was formally introduced to him.

"Aye", he responded simply, only courteously interested in acquainting the man at that moment. Regardless of his disinterest in making friends, and a bit of a distrust peeking out, he diluted all of it with a plain smirk. "Welcome back, mister Warren. Heard a plenty 'bout ye." Whether the statement was in fact true or not did not matter to him, and he did not stick around to find out whether or not it mattered to the others. Taking his bag off, he held it with strap wrapped around his lower arm and hand as some sort of pendulum.

"Plenty o' time for pleasantries back at the camp, gentlemen. Gettin' too dark for a picnic in the forest." Thomas stepped forward, making his way back towards the camp. Whether others chose to linger or follow was none of his concern now that the roads were neatly marked and you had to be a bloody simpleton to stray off, and so he made his way ahead of the others, entering the camp just before the rest of the group. The commotion in there was rather disappointing to the exhausted Irish. While a great deal of dwellers seemed to be rather occupied with miss Angelica that looked like she'd seen a ghost, he only briefly debated whether to get involved or bail. Unanimous vote made the decision featherlight as he wasted no time to head towards his own tent. He deserved a bloody drink.

***

Dinner time was a lot more appealing to the man as he had no doubts on the fact that he was famished. By the end of it, he was feeling more satisfied with his entire existence, and by the time they were all comfortably seated, listening to the ghost story, rum kicked in just enough for Thomas to find it amusing enough to focus on it. It was a decent one and Lung El's detailed descriptions came as a fascinating surprise. The man seemed to be especially passionate about the story he was telling. He followed attentively, strength of now uncomfortably warm rum painting a cheeky smirk on his face as he sat with his arm hanging over his knee and a 3/4 empty bottle swinging off of his fingers.

"But, at Phra Khanong, people suddenly die again, after ferryman pull up old jar and open it..."

"Ah, and the plot thickens..." he exclaimed joyfully, just before a loud maniacal screech boomed right above his head, making him jerk slighty forward, spilling a bit of alcohol onto the ground before he managed to get a firm grip around the bottle, preventing more valuable liquid from being soaked into the ground. Ground didn't give a single damn about whether it was rum or water or piss. Ground did not appreciate it as he did and for that, he mumbled something incomprehensible, followed by "Yer ma'," as he took another swig while laughter spread around the campsite.

As the laughter died down, Andrew stepped in to address further activities of the group. After the soldier in him initially silently protested against the unfair treatment of being sat down in the camp, the currently tipsy man that he was still owned the mouth and the capital part of consciousness and to that man, not hearing his name in any of the activities planned for tomorrow sounded like a well deserved vacation. "Dandy-o, chief", Thomas mustered, stretching up to the point where his shoulder blades popped rather loudly, bringing instant relief. "Sounds majestic to m- aaand here we go...", he turned his train of thoughts with an eye roll when Alex's voice sounded over the fire.

"Oh Hell no! Are you stupid? Grounding your scout?!"

He groaned, scratching his head and grimacing. There was always one of those.

"Sit down, woman", he finally spoke up once the rest of them scattered for the night, rather tired of all the huffing and puffing coming from the scout. "We get it. Yer ay independent woman. Scout. Whatever the shite", he gesticulated, waving it off. "Take yer time off, sharpen some blades. Yer havin' enough time t'show ya own a pair. Not like he asked you t'make 'im a bloody sandwich." He refreshed his throat as he briefly followed her marching figure before turning back to stare at the dying fire. "Jesus, Mary'n'Joseph," he mumbled as he blessed the embers with a bit of rum, making them light up angrily for a brief moment.

@Doctor Jax
@DayDreamer

 

[Doctor Jax]

Reunion, Continued
@DayDreamer

Henry Warren had managed to somewhat manage his appearance since setting up shop in Greene's tent. Luckily they had packed several spares, and he would have his own tent, adjoined to Angelica's. However, as the man had lost much of his grooming kit, Charles had been more than happy to lend him his. He was a man of middling build, and of course his features were somewhat sunken by this point with such long neglect. However, it was clear where Angelica had inherited many of her features, as he had a strong and high forehead with high cheekbones, brown hair that was only slightly thinning, a full beard that was now trimmed back to an acceptable length. The clothes Greene - an athlete himself, admittedly - had loaned hung off his thin frame. Even before his misadventures into the rainforest, he had been a rather lanky fellow with long features, dexterous hands and lengthy in the limb.

His gaze was clear as he listened to Dr. Pendleton's assessment of his health. The prognosis did give him some darkening of his visage, glancing to Greene, who had taken up shop beside his field desk with a glass of bourbon.

"I hawdly 'hink das nec'ssawy," Henry argued with congeniality, though there was an undercurrent of steel in his voice. It was evident that - while he was a frail man - he possessed a certain stubbornness of character not at all unfamiliar to those who had worked with his daughter. "Food, dr--hink, zome west -- I shall be wight as wain."

The damage to his tongue was evident in the way he struggle with semi-vowels, his 'r's' and his 'd's', his 't's' and his 'th's'. Charles hated to see that it was sincerely hampering his friend's ability to communicate effectively. He was always an articulate man, and to be unable to quickly and succinctly espouse his thoughts had to be a small nightmare to him, piled on top of the others in the heap.

"Now, Henry--"

"Weally! I feel qui'e awwight," Henry stated, putting his hand out palm down, gaze intense through those dark green eyes as he glanced between both the doctor and Charles.

Charles had to huff a bit at that. His trademark tenacity. No doubt, that was likewise what had kept him alive out here for the entirety of a year. And they had stopped here not six months ago, only a day's march inland... And they had missed the opportunity to end this horror for him. Well -- no use feeling sorry now. He was back in the fold.

And, true to his nature, he wanted to get right back to work.

"I 'hank you Doctor Pen'hle'on. My 'pologies fow butchewing youw name, heh. Now, Chuck, where are we at wi' 'he expe'ition?" Henry asked directly, hands folded over a knee.

A moment of concern flashed over Charles' face as he stared at his workmate. Perhaps... Perhaps Angelica had informed him of... of Elizabeth. Surely he would have asked that first off of his daughter, or so he would have hoped. Then again, the forest could have such odd effects on a man's mind.

"We are set to begin excavating the exit to the highway that leads to Nakhon Ratchasawan," Charles filled him in. "I can't for the life of me remember if we had got this far. Speaking of which... Henry..."

He glanced at Bertrum momentarily, weighing his words. Henry stared on, waiting for a response. Well - he'd always been direct.

"Where are the others? What happened?" Charles asked softly, taking a drink.

The room went still between the two. Henry finally averted his gaze, looking to the ground. His jaw worked, mouth opening slightly as if to say something, the words stillborn upon his mangled tongue. Charles himself had been sick with Dengue fever when he had gone back to Ayutthaya with Henry's notes--

Had you? Is that the real truth? Or was that yet another dream layered upon a dream?

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a certain mixed Thai scout coming through the tent flaps, and Charles felt a well of annoyance. Goodness gracious, it was always something. Could she not complain to Andrew instead? Where was he, anyhow?

"Yes, Miss? You seem to be upset by something," Charles stated with a sigh, mustache twitching. Henry, on the other hand, looked rather amused in comparison. It seemed he was used to spirited women.

***​

Knowledge

@Red Thunder @Ritual Lobotomy

At the campfire, the men had largely begun to filter away, either to drink and while away the night with conversation, to wind down in their tents, or to attend to other unfortunate matters of biology. At the fire, banking it and rearranging the firewood, Lung El looked up to see Tatyana approach him, the woman seeming burdened. The older Thai gentleman returned her bow with a smile of his own, his hands pressed in a tight prayer position against his chest. His bow was far deeper, a show of deep respect.

"Sawat-Di Wan Yen. Good evening, Miss," Lung El stated with a small smile.

"A moment? I- well, it was a play of the echos in the stone, perhaps, but I thought I heard chanting while within the temple. Do you know what the temple was used for, long ago?"

Lung El dipped his head, gaze resting upon the fire that still burned bright beside them. He nodded as he weighed his words.

"I am not so sure this temple, what it was for... But in Siam, our temple not like church. They are place for dead people, full of p'hi -- ghosts. And spirits, too. We take the body, put it in the fire, and the ash, it put into the temple, and these ghost, they protect the temple. Maybe you hear these ghost," Lung El suggested. "Strange, though... Rare that farang hear ghost. Many think that is... not real. Legends."

"Well, in England, we hardly have so many ghosts, or act as if they are so present," Angelica piped up from her spot nearby the fire, a drawing board across her lap with notes -- and a certain palm-leaf book.

"Does not mean they are not there," Lung El stated with a shake of his finger. Angie smiled with incredulity. This was obviously a long-standing discussion between the two of them.

"This is not the same kind of temple," Angelica explained, holding up the book of palm leaves. "The Tala-patra says that the building there is more like a... it served several functions. It did have religious significance to those who built it, to honor the gods and soma that gave them -- reportedly -- immortality. It also served as a sort of.... border station, it seemed. Travelers were required to 'check in' there, and then pay a toll to pass into the city. It seemed that they kept intruders out at this point somehow, though I don't believe we've found a wall surrounding the city-state. So it was both a government institution as well as religious building. As far as I know, no one was ever buried in this temple, however..."

Angie looked up at Tatyana with a curious expression, then to Thomas sitting across the way.

"Unless you saw something there. It was never meant to be a funerary ground, the way a chedi or temple wall is here."

***​

Bump In The Night

@Kuno

Andrew was more than happy to hand him the gun, leaving his hands free to carry the lantern and reach for his sidearm instead. He would have been useless otherwise with only one hand. Little did most know, there was little control of a rifle with only one hand, shooting from the hip. With that, they began their way back towards the camp, the lights in the distance flickering as the thick foliage seemed to move and breathe. It was a lively environment, full of chatter even from the night insects. It seemed the jungle never truly slept.

And this was the reason he had taken that last job in Siberia. At the least, you could sleep, even if it was freezing.

"Now, of this, we'll speak not a word to the others. What you found earlier, when going after Miss Warren, that's alright, but the finder details, we save for Greene. No need to stir up trouble amongst the ranks," Andrew stated. "We'll continue watch tonight, and--"

Abruptly, Andrew was aware that forest had gone eerily silent. Not a single sound. Where before, it had been a cacophony, now it was deathly still. He stopped, a hand pressed back to Peter's chest to halt him as well through the foliage. There was a reason for such silences. A Bengal tiger? Possibly. Other people? No, not likely, if there had been people living here, the jungle creatures were used to their presence.

What had the creatures in this forest so spooked, then?

And then - up ahead - he saw it.

A woman. Barely illuminated by moonlight, her back to them. She seemed to be one of the hill peoples, her dress that of a bodice and a thin skirt, hair unbound and unkempt. She was perhaps fifteen yards ahead and to their left, seemingly unaware of their presence. However, as her figure seemed to grow more solid - either as their eyes grew more attuned to the darkness, or to some other property of the air - an unsettling revelation unearthed before their eyes.

As she turned, it was clear her lower jaw had been removed, her tongue likewise taken. Her ears were removed, a thin, sharpened stake jammed through her head where her ears would have been. In hand, she held a sickle, and a ghastly, soft panting noise could be heard from the open hole of her throat. Blood bubbled softly in a gurgle in her mouth. Her eyes, however, were bright and clear, alive and watching with a rabid intensity as if searching for something with insatiable anxiety.

And as quick as she appeared -- she was gone, sprinting past a tree and never reappearing on its other side, without a single sound.

 

[DayDreamer]

Navigator's remarks had registered with her but she was so fired up that she didn't even turn to look at him while she grunted "I don't need a pair to do my job." accompanied by an array of colorful words in Thai. She all but stormed in the tent and it seemed that her annoyance was matched by that of her employer as he gave her a firm but polite sounding "Yes, Miss? You seem to be upset by something,"

Upset was not the most appropriate word to describe her feelings at that moment but she ignored that. Instead, she came fully into view and the spear she had taken from the attack site was swiftly thrusted on the ground tip down. It wobbled a little back and forth as Alex let go of it. "This...." She pointed back at the spear. "Is what has me upset. Keeping me in the dark about other people being after the same thing as you has me upset. Being stopped from doing my job by that bloody Captain of yours is really getting on my nerves." She almost growled at him.

"You hired me to make sure you don't die out here like bloody kids! But I can't do that mate. It's a different thing to avoid local tribes and the more dangerous parts of the jungle and a completely different thing to guard against other Westerners who clearly go by the rule the ends justify the means. What the hell are you looking for and how did you manage to escape a tribe that shouldn't even be around here in the first place?"

She was not screaming at him, but her voice had gone just above normal talking volume and her eyes were glaring daggers at Greene and looked expectantly at Angelica's father at the last part of the question. She knew that the man had been in a poor state and that is why her tone had grew out of her aggressive mode and into something more of an annoyance and legitimate concern.

No matter what had went down, Warren had earned respect from her for being able to survive alone in the jungle for as long as people had been talking about. Though it still concerned her how he had managed to escape. By all accounts he should have been killed with the rest of their team by the tribe. These guys, if her hunch was correct, had come out of seclusion for some very specific reason and they were not happy for it. The punishment for outsiders stepping out of their welcoming zone was always death on sight, yet here Warren was.
---------
OOC: Hue. Triggered scout is triggered.

 

[Doctor Jax]

Charles Greene & Henry Warren

Henry immediately grew discomfited by the sight of the spear in the young woman's hand, fidgeting in his chair. Aware of his friend's discomfort, Charles walked over, standing between the frustrated scout and his compatriot. Standing with broad shoulders and crossed arms, he did cut a somewhat intimidating figure, the total physical gumption only an American could seem to muster as he prepared to field Alex's complaints. A spear was stuck into the ground before him, the meter-and-a-half long shaft vibrating as if sensing the agitation of its wielder.

"This...." She pointed back at the spear. "Is what has me upset. Keeping me in the dark about other people being after the same thing as you has me upset. Being stopped from doing my job by that bloody Captain of yours is really getting on my nerves."

His eyebrows rose. Oh, well, that was news to him.

"You hired me to make sure you don't die out here like bloody kids! But I can't do that mate. It's a different thing to avoid local tribes and the more dangerous parts of the jungle and a completely different thing to guard against other Westerners who clearly go by the rule the ends justify the means. What the hell are you looking for and how did you manage to escape a tribe that shouldn't even be around here in the first place?"

Her words were directed to Henry, Charles glancing back over his shoulder, before returning his gaze to the guide. He put a hand up, stating, "Now, now, I understand that there are some... concerns--"

"Chuck. You din't 'hell 'em?" Henry asked as if with some amusement. He started to chuckle, shaking his head. "Always so.... paranoid. Your anxie'dies ge' 'he be'er of you. Explain 'o 'e young woman..."

Kindly, with patience, he gestured, and Charles huffed through his nose. Henry had always been far too trusting in the good nature of others, but... Well.

"As far as Mister Locke goes, it's his business how he wants to divvy up work, so that is something you'd have to take up with him. More than likely, he wants you fresh for what will come tomorrow - actual scouting, beyond walking around this camp," Charles said, back to his usual imperious self with a puff of the chest, squaring of the shoulders. "As for... the others. We did not necessarily expect to come across other tribes, though we were aware they might be here. I'd like to know where you got this, once we've the time to talk at length."

He gestured to the spear. It worried him that she had brought one back -- how had she gotten it?

"As to your other concern..."

A discomfort seemed to scratch just beneath his skin, despite his seeming pomp. He glanced at Henry one last time, before looking back to Alex.

"...Yes. There are other expeditions which are interested in the work Henry and Angelica have been doing. And it is paramount they do not get their hands on our discovery," Greene stated, suddenly emphatic. There was a real urgency to his voice. "This soma, the organism we are searching for..."

He looked back to Henry, the man scratching his shortened beard. He nodded, eyes averted.

"...i' can bwing back 'he dying, 'he dead, cure 'he crippled, zo my no'es zay," Henry explained, calmly bringing his hands together. "Zoma iz a 'hwug--.... a medicine more powerful 'han quinine, 'han morphine, 'han cocaine, 'han ester. Wi' i', 'e ancien' peoples here along 'e Chao Pwaya wiver held 'he awea. Powerful stuff. An' i' all came fwom one twee, one plan'. I' borders on.... on magic. Evewy pawt of it, giwen by 'heir gods, by 'heir magicians. Chuck..."

Charles rubbed his chin, nodding. It must be tiring for him to try and speak with his tongue mangled as it was.

"There were accounts from the time period of the blind suddenly being healed, the lame becoming whole. Even that it could somehow bring the dead back to life, to lengthen one's lifespan far beyond what was natural. Supposedly this is all the work of some form of wizardry, I don't know all the specifics, you'd have to ask Angie, but... this could revolutionize medicine, if we can study its properties. Really, and truly," Charles tried to impress. "The other expeditions - the other companies really - well, they're cutthroat, yes, but we have evaded them thus far."

"We are terribly sowwy you were no' informed. Aren' we, Chuck?" Henry asked with a pointed look, raising an eyebrow.

Charles did a commendable job maintaining his composure, resisting the urge to make a face not unlike having unexpectedly tasted a lemon, but only just.

"Yes, it is... highly unfortunate. There was not much time to put together a team to journey here. We kept everything to a strictly need-to-know basis, but I shall... notify the others in the morning of the possibility that we may encounter another group attempting to search for the same thing. Which, speaking of possible encounters..."

Charles took the spear in hand, yanking it from the ground.

"Where did you find this, exactly?"

@DayDreamer

 

[DayDreamer]

Alex had crossed her arms over her chest expectantly and listened closely to what the men had to say with an unreadable expression. Her mind was running on a dozen different scenarios about what had happened and what she should be wary of when it was time for them to move out again. Mr Warren's speech had her narrowing her eyes slightly as she focused on him. It was hard to make out what he was saying exactly and that meant his tongue was butchered.

It was alarming. She was certain that Warren hadn't done this to himself and there was no way he could have have an accident involving his tongue being mangled like that. No this was done to him by people not pleased to meet him. But the tribes usually killed people on the spot. They didn't mutilate people and then let them go. Unless the other companies were involved with the tribes somehow......

Her eybrow raised in disbelief as she was told what they were after. She wasn't sure if she believed this soma existed or not, but she sure felt happy she had recharged her tattoos before leaving. She would need all the help and luck she could get if she were to see this through. Paranoid employers, unknown tribes and, worst of all, greedy western competition made for an explosive mix.

"Apology accepted but you are a bloody idiot for keeping that a secret. And your captain is a bigger idiot for not letting me leave the camp tomorrow while the rest work on clearing a path." She said after a few moments of silent as she digested the information. Her eyes moved to the spear in Greene's hands and then to Henry. He had yet to answer her one very important question. How had he gotten away?

"You weren't told? We found the rest of his group in a cluster of burned huts nearby." She pointed at partially obscured Henry. "There were signs of a fight and it seems the tribe living there was also wiped out. Or at least a major part of it. Angelica recognised one of the bodies as Mr. Marcher because of this..." She pulled the half melted medalion out of her coat's pocket and placed it on the nearby table with a soft thud. Her gaze jumped from Greene to Warren as she said that to see their reactions. "Angelica also mentioned that you have been inflitrated by an Atticus company. So I will ask again. How did you survive? Not mentioning that the owner of this spear should not have been around this area, you would have been killed on sight with your tongue in one piece Mr. Warren." She was not a woman to beat around the bush. Greene seemed very keen on the spear. Almost as if he knew something about it that Alex didn't. Something that was alarming him. "I was aware there used to be a tribe living in these parts of the jungle, but they had fallen silent for about a year now, which is why I did not object in us making camp here. But I knew that tribe and they do not carry spears like that. Something is not right here."
---------
OOC: Hue.

 

[Ritual Lobotomy]

THOMAS "TOM" O'REILLY|| NAVIGATOR

"I don't need a pair to do my job." It came back to him lightning fast, and finding it hard to let the Thai get the last say when she clearly misunderstood the point of his words, Thomas cocked his eyebrow and scoffed after her. "Not literally s- A'right ya know what? Forget it", he was quick to drop the argument as he was neither physically nor mentally in the place where such unnecessary strain sounded like a good idea, but even as the guide mumbled a line of incomprehensive words while she kept marching away, he did not waste the opportunity to wave it off with a final "Right back at ya. Good talk, lass. Good talking to ya."

And just like that with the woman gone, there was a relative silence around the campfire with only few faces left to discuss their matter in a slightly hushed tone. Sighing into the flames, Thomas curiously investigated the current state of his bottle and found - to his utmost disappointment - that it was now emptied all the way to the bottom, with only a butt joke of a liquid left to wet the bottom, and if he was to be completely honest it did nothing to rekindle his interest so he laid it at his side with an easy mind.

Briefly, he looked up at the sky that peeked just slightly above them, where the crowns of trees were manually removed, before his gaze dropped down towards the flames in front of him. They could have been tens or hundreds or tens of thousands years old or more and so what? It made no difference to those that came just recently to smite them where they stood for all that time, reducing them to splinters and firewood. It would be the nature of the man it seemed. Selfishness and destruction.

He was pulled back from his thoughts when Lung El crossed his path as he attended to fire, keeping it nice and bright before he was encountered by Tatyana and asked about whatever the experience Russian had inside the temple that had her run off like a headless chicken into the dark. For someone as loud and as stubborn as miss Volkov was, it was surely an unexpected turn of events, but hardly enough for Thomas to take her story of audible chants with any degree of seriousness. Being confined in a small dark space did that to human mind. Even so, other than a subtle sigh of disapproval, the Irish did nothing to call the woman out on it. For her, it could have as well been very real. Just as much as his own voices at their own time were very real to him.

But as the man proceeded to respond to her question, Thomas' patience ran thin, although the tone of his voice remained light as he chimed in somewhat lazily.

"Because they are. Legends. Games o' one's mind." It brought a smirk on his face. "Ya live once, ya die once. Ya die and it's ay fucking wrap ain't it? Yer dead. Worm food. Ghosts just sound better," he concluded as he briefly disturbed the soil in front of him with the heel of his boot.

But the fact was that it simply did not sit well with human mind that there was such thing to consciousness that was its end. It was a lot more fascinating to think there was something beyond that to look into. Even if the only thing wrapping them up into that belief was only in their own head. Now, if he had met both of the women now present before all of it, he would have expected them to certainly have a different view on such stories, but at that very moment, being disappointed that it wasn't the case sounded redundant. It seemed to have nothing to do with one's background.

As the discussion between the three continued, Thomas kept silent, staring ahead of himself. Regardless, he listened carefully and by the end of Angelica's small lecture, he let out a brief cynical scoff aimed at her final claim. It seemed to be enough to get the woman's attention, as she threw a rather curious glare to Tatyana and then to him, evidently looking for answers or more input to go with her theory.

"Well, miss." Thomas cleared his throat adjusting himself on his spot across the fire as he focused on Angelica. "Ya should be tellin' that to those poor bastards left behind in there then. Nobody seemed to let them know they shouldn't be there. In donkey's years, so it seems. Or perhaps they laid too much hope in that 'magic elixir' o' theirs so it caught 'em off guard when it didn't work."

Letting it sink into the brief silence, Thomas nodded readily once Angelica drew a careful conclusion.

"Aye," he confirmed simply, giving out a brief report in a calm and collected tone. "Mummies. Eight o' them. Unusual way of handlin' their dead, these lads weren't laid nor resting," he jested dryly as he kept his hand busy spinning the empty bottle on the ground next to him. "There was an effort there, and so it seems to me that it's where they're meant' be."

@Doctor Jax
@DayDreamer
@Red Thunder

 

[Nemopedia]

FINLEY ELLIS || BOTANIST

After the gruesome discovery earlier that day Finley had not been himself the thought and feeling of death chasing after him seeping into his very being, conquering every thought. By the time dinner was served the male felt queasy, too sick to even manage a bite of food, yet he sat down, not wanting to be made out for a wimp anymore than he already was.

However, within his mind he knew something was wrong. So very wrong.

When Lung El started his urban horror the ginger could barely listen, his mind visualising the wife as a malicious ghost, or phi, or whatever it was, the cold sweat forming on his back as he felt the fear of the husband clamping around his throat.

He would never marry a wife from this continent. That he decided. Too tricky, to survive even after death had already taken them.

Still holding himself up bigger and braver than he was Finley continued to eat, spooning in his food carefully and slowly. The scare, he tried not to let it get to him. The outburst of their guide he tried to keep himself distant from it, though Alex at this point scared him more than whatever story Lung El was going to follow up with. That woman was too vicious for her own good, too hostile for the group of gentlemen and -women that made up this group.

He was tired, but he didn't dare to enter his tent either. Not alone at least. He was no stranger to sleeping outside, having camped for many a day before. It just never had been a jungle, never been a place with a possibility of hunters that would come to burn them down, never been filled with urban legends of ghosts that stuck to you 'til death and beyond.

And then, as if suddenly shaken awake, Finley was brought back to the conversation left around the fire. The talk of the temple, the mention of soma, the mummies. Finley gulped, turning his head as he wondered if he could join someone else, someone not involved in the story.

He realised that he found himself in the middle of everything, unable to leave lest he would be all alone.

Defeated the male let go of another sigh, his head hanging low as he leant forward, eyes trained to the ground as he willed his fear to leave.

"Curiouser and curiouser," he mumbled to himself, both as a way to calm himself and to denote the strange situation he had found himself in. Who knew that the careful redhead was actually so reckless?

 

[Red Thunder]

Tatyana Volkov
Memory, Accompanied in the Moonlight​

Ana nodded with small reservation in agreement with Thomas' account, minimal though it was. Even with no training or experience with Siamese culture, the presence of the nine corpses had been uniquely strange, particularly since there seemed to have originally been one more. Even more peculiar was Mr. Greene's apparent familiarity with the place, especially given his repeated claims to the contrary.

"Nyet, Thomas. Not mummies. The bodies were placed- unbroken, yes? Undamaged, as the Egyptians do for burial. Or, it looked so." She shook her head minutely as she tried to call to mind the memory of events while concurrently suppressing the accompanying emotions. "I confess, there is much to our small expedition. Much, I feel, you should know, Lung El and Angelica. Much I do not think might come to your ears otherwise."

In as great a detail as she could manage through her knowledge of English and an incomplete repertoire of Siamese terms, Ana proceeded to explain exactly everything that she had observed in the temple, as she herself had observed it, including the otherwise questionable and possibly hallucinated visions. She did notably leave out any reference to the Khuman Tong, though it was through no conscious decision; she felt it wished to remain hidden, somehow, and so it did.

"And then I ran out, feeling I was- falling into the chant. Then Andrew caught me, and I was in the open air, and the vision left." Sighing, the weight of the event lifted from her mind, she sat on grass unceremoniously, only taking the time to fold her legs under her skirt. "I can make nothing of any of it. Can either of you?"
@Doctor Jax @Ritual Lobotomy

 

[Applo]

---

With tea in hand, Bertrum sat quietly and watched as Charles handled the irate scout. He had missed the opportunity to leave before the woman's diatribe had begun; raising himself from his chair now would only cause a fuss. Besides, the metaphorical rocks being kicked over were interesting ones. There certainly seemed to be plenty of things that he and the rest of the expedition were not being told, not that he minded that too much. In his old life he had had to be careful and measured with the truth on occasion. Sometimes that was the best way. Greene had already faced down one near mutiny already. It made sense the man would be reticent in sharing too much information, especially with such a prize. A genuine miracle cure that would put snake oil salesmen out of business. If anything did bother the doctor a little, it was the scouts lack of decorum. This wasn't the way things should be done.

"Is it possible that whoever survived the fight you say you found the aftermath of simply decided to move on? You did say it looked like both sides appeared to have been wiped out. I believe the natives in America sometimes did similar things." Standing up Bertrum drained the dregs from his cup before returning an easy gaze at the scout. "As for this spear, perhaps a trinket dropped by one of these rival expeditions? Regardless, as a doctor I would strongly suggest that tonight is not the time for such discussion. Bullish and strong willed as Mr Warren is, he needs rest. You better than anyone should understand that Miss. We have sentry's watching the camp so unless I am missing something this could wait till the morning."

Turning to face his patient Bertrum dipped his head slightly as he picked up his cane with his free hand.

"Unless there is anything else, I shall retire for the night. Please don't hesitate to ask for myself or Doctor Daneford if anything should arise."​

---

 

[Kuno]

PETER O'KEEFE || RIFLEMAN
Location: Surrounding jungle​

They were of like mind, Andrew and Peter. The Irishman gave a perfunctory nod at Andew's assertion they say nothing of what'd they seen to the others. He wouldn't have been inclined to do so anyways; the last thing he wanted was the razed campsite becoming a God forsaken spectacle, or letting a panic seize hold of their party. The man was paranoid enough as it was and didn't need any more tongues fueling the fire.

He saw the lights from the campsite bobbing far ahead, past the thick of the jungle. He had not taken but a few more steps before he was stopped, and he shot his captain a quizzical look. But the man's focus was not on him, and it was not long after that Peter realized Andrew's source of distraction.

Something had frightened the jungles into silence. The Aussie's head turned one way, and Peter's head the other, his lantern falling carelessly to the ground as his fingers crawled to the pistol at his side. It wasn't nearly as much firepower as the rifle, but it was still able to commit to damage at close range. He glanced back the way they came, sweat beading at his nape. Quiet alarm shuttered throughout his body.

Turn around. Turn around.

Peter hazarded a look in the other direction.

His eyes were not yet adjusted to the dark. There was a figure, yes, still as a statue, nearly twenty paces away. A woman - he realized as his vision sharpened - much adorned like the indigenous tribes, her bare back facing the two foreigners. Pistol lowering, Peter made to move towards her but stopped himself, eyes widening as she turned towards them.

It was a terrible shock. He saw what looked, or what was, a cruel injustice wrought on her: her face was horribly disfigured, her jaw torn asunder and left to gape open. Peter's eyes darted about the macabre sight with muted horror, feeling himself compelled to meet the woman's animal-like gaze. It was only then, as he took in the all-too familiar spear jammed through her skull, that he realized that he was face-to-face with yet another apparition.

Peter started, and the woman bolted, vanishing entirely. She was gone, gone into the heat of the night, as if she had never been there at all. Just like the boy on the boat only a year prior--

No. No. No. No. Not again.

"Alright. Y' alright. Y' alright. We're alright."

The slight uptick at the end made it sound like a question. He kneaded at the pain in his chest, unable - or unwilling - to take his eyes away from where the maimed woman had once stood. He wanted to move, but his legs were wooden. He went to make the sign of the cross over his heart but found his fingers unwilling to bend, frozen at his collarbone. Sweat came down his skin in earnest.

All too suddenly the jungle came to life once more, and Peter nearly jumped out of his skin at the incessant noise. It was a wake-up call. Hurriedly, he hoisted his lantern aloft once more and looked finally in the Aussie's direction. Whatever stoicism he'd hoped to display in the wake of such a fright was easily dispelled by the fear in his eyes. The Irishman was terrified, through and through, and he said nothing as he turned away, setting off towards camp as quickly as he dared.

 

[Doctor Jax]

Left Hanging
@Applo @DayDreamer

The financier of the trip tapped the spear in his hand on the ground. The words Alex spoke rang in his head, circling. So... that was what had happened to the prior team. They were not lost. They were dead. The spear was suddenly gripped in both his hands, working it between his calloused palms. In all his thirty-nine years, he would never have imagined coming from the fields of Illinois that he would be here, in the jungle, contending with so many mysteries.

Because, for some reason, he was not shocked to find that his colleagues were dead. Some part of him had known that a long, long while, and he was unsure why.

Fire. Fire, screaming... a frantic need to get away. The thought that he had to escape with a dreaded knowledge, to get back to the States, to tell them they had made a terrible mistake, that--

Delirium, surely, from the Dengue that had nearly broken his body upon his return to Ayutthaya, having corrupted his memories. He glanced to Henry, as if looking for reassurance.

Henry was stony-faced. He seemed not at all fazed by the news. In fact, he almost seemed angry that he was being questioned. A spear of unease struck him. Marcher had been one of his best friends, a colleague from university. Several of the other members, they had been... they had been lifelong friends, people he knew Henry had respected greatly. Perhaps he already knew of their demise, having witnessed it, but he had always thought of Henry the sentimentalist between them...

Bertrum interjected that perhaps this was more than Mr. Warren was ready for, and Charlie nodded his head.

"Yes. I believe that our dear doctor is quite correct. Henry is in a fragile state, Missus Smith, not to mention if what you say is correct, then it would perhaps be best not to ask Henry to recount such a traumatic event so soon," Charlie stated, leading the young woman out of the tent. Henry himself was rising as well, no doubt to turn in for the night. Charlie did stop outside of the tent with her, eyes intent.

"But I would appreciate if we might see the... the site, where you found this."

He gestured with the spear. Charlie himself had his own questions.

"In the meantime - get some rest. The real work begins tomorrow."

***​

Fireside Chat
@Red Thunder @Ritual Lobotomy @Nemopedia

Lung-El and Angie listened intently to both Thomas and Ana, Finn nearby looking sickly curious the longer they spoke of what they found at the temple. As the description was further recounted, Angelica looked rather more confused while Lung-El's expression took on one of sincere concern. He took up a teapot of boiling water, making a mug of Thai tea for the Russian woman. He handed it to her, working on another one for himself and his other wards.

"You have Khuman Tong, and it do many strange things, even to farang. You feed it? Give it candy, toys, like a child?"

"Lung-El, you can't be serious," Angelica scoffed, more amused than offended. Lung-El, however, was quite insistent.

"Very much important how you treat Khuman Tong, Na-Ana. You treat it well, as good master, and it bring you good fortune, but you mistreat it... It make life difficult for everyone. That chanting you hear... Perhaps he is showing you something we cannot hear," Lung-El stated. "Monks, sitting this way, dry--"

"They do something similar in Japan," Angelica stated, chiming back in. "It was often done as a means of achieving the state of Nibbana, self-extinguishment and the end of reincarnation. I hardly think it would be possible to do here, due to the climate, so I apologize, but I remain skeptical. Are you sure they were men? Not statues? The book says nothing of monks interred in the temple at the head of the highway, and you had said that it was dark."

"Nong, you do not understand. You read so many books, you forget books can be wrong, not show the whole truth."

Angelica looked up at Lung-El, the man's face grim. He smoothed the thin mustache over his lip.

"Monks sometime chant for days, months, years to contain evil. To guard, to keep us safe against unseen things. Old practice, from long time ago, from even before Siddarta. This... mun na'glua mak, na khap. Mai di. Perhaps we disturb something we should leave alone."

Angie remained skeptical, but she could see in the way Lung-El stood with such posture that he held a great concern. The firelight flickered over the lines in his face, the older guide seeming far more wizened by night's darkness.

"We walk very carefully now. With a long stick, like there is snakes in the grass," he stated. He looked up to Ana. "Tonight, I say a prayer. Keep us safe, na khap? It is late. Bad luck to talk of bad things at night. We should sleep. Tomorrow is a long day."

With that, he began to pack his things. Angelica looked to the others, shrugging her shoulders helplessly. Absolute poppycock, of course. Absolute poppycock...

***​

Night Terrors
@Kuno

Andrew held his breath, his fingers locked about the rifle. He knew he should not be able to see what he was seeing. It was... unnatural. Supernatural. And then, just like that, it was gone. Was he the only one who could see it? Had something in this fetid air caused him to possibly lose his mind?

No. A quick glance to the side revealed that Peter, too, was locked in a grim stare, eyes focused upon the horror between the trees. Something about it sent a shiver of cold under his skin, despite the florid heat, and he swallowed.

She vanished.

It didn't need said. Both men were booking their way back to camp. Andrew wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt, looking about. Would it come back? What was that? They had discovered and disturbed a horrifying scene. Had it somehow brought the attention of... of something? How could they possibly fight something of that nature, something incorporeal?

They would have to think of that later. For the moment, it seemed she had not found them, and perhaps she was more interested in the site they had left. She.

"Peter. Peter, we say nothing. Ya hear me, mate? We don't breathe a word, not yet. We'll talk with Greene tomorrow 'bout all this. You tell the men, they'll spook," Andrew stated breathlessly. Was that a good idea? One of them might know what to do about this... But no, no, he was certain that it would panic them, the superstitious lot turned to infighting and stampeding for the nearest exit. He had no idea what they had seen was dangerous.

They reached the edge of the rainforest, bursting back to camp. Andrew handed him back a rifle, and he said, "I'll let the other men know, though, that we travel in pairs. Say we saw a tiger or some such out there. Keep 'em from pissin' alone."

For some reason, that held little comfort to him. Perhaps he should have put more stock in those 'ghost stories'.

Spoiler

Alright guys! I will be having a double post up that will place us in the second chapter in just a little while (and by that I mean less than 24 hours). However, if you wanna get a lightning post in to wrap up your interactions, feel free! It'll be a minute or so before I get the next post up. See how many you can squeeze in before I get it out there. :P

 

[DayDreamer]

"Spears are not trinkets doc. Not here." Alex was quick to reply, but she sighed in exasperation and her tone dropped a notch to a calmer yet stern voice. "While I do understand, the more we know about our enemies, the better prepared we are. I just hope the men on patrol are aware of this." She said and followed her boss out of the tent.

His new attitude was nice for a change. He was taking this seriously. "I plan on going back on first light. Feel free to come with me if you can wake." She said with a more serious and welcoming tone while extending a hand. "I will have the spear back if you don't mind. Would work better in hands that know how to use it." She would wait until the spear was in her grasp and then she would leave for her tent, wishing Greene a good night's rest.

Well, technically it was their tent. Being the only females in the group, Angelica and Alex would share a tent, which left more room for them than the rest of the men. Alex didn't really mind and being the first one in, she chose the bed that was closer to the exit. A habbit that never really left from her smuggling business.

Spear on the floor next to her cot, Alex began undressing for the night.
---------
OOC: Hue.

 

[Red Thunder]

Tatyana Volkov
Answers Unanswered​

"So, the chanting I heard was to, eh, 'contain' evil? Like a lid on a jar holding a spider?"

Tatyana's brows furrowed, and she looked down at the cup Lung-El had provided her. She'd yet taken a sip, so caught up in her guide's explanation. To keep people safe from unseen things, he said. An 'old' practice, a term that, to such a culture steeped in the ways of yesteryear, likely meant that the ritual was ancient.

Nine out of ten, she considered again, even as she watched Lung-El turn and leave, her question unanswered. If this chanting was to keep evil at bay, then what can a missing monk mean for that containment?

She didn't bother asking. He had quite authoritatively closed that particular thread of conversation down, leaving absolutely no room for further discussion. Nor was Angelica likely to speak on it with her, if her dismissive and skeptical expressions meant anything.

Lung-El's form faded into the night shade. Say a prayer, he'd said. To whom? To what? To the Khuman Tong? How stran-

Tatyana practically leaped to her feet, spilling her tea in the process, and nearly sprinted after him. The Khuman Tong! She hadn't mentioned it; she was certain! Her left hand rose to her chest to clutch it, her heart suddenly beating. How had he known? How had he known?

But his question, if mysteriously asked, stood. Had she been, er, feeding it? Giving it- toys and things? She placed a hand to her temple; she couldn't recall. The days after leaving Russia had been so- so busy. She couldn't recall.

Heart still pounding, Ana gathered her things and made for her tent. Maybe she had some childcare she needed to do...

 

[Doctor Jax]

It Began With A Bang
"Bodhi forest gloaming leads the darkness/ the Noon Star above the stele/ the path shadowed [illegible]/ the Nagk bridges the rivers/ he parts/separates [water/river/lake] with man's [unintelligible]." -- second excerpt from the Tala-patra.​

"Careful, real careful! We ain't blowin' this thing, not with these mates s' close to it. Good ol' Greene's told me he wants 'em untouched for now."

Andrew oversaw the deconstruction of the rubble blocking the exit of the temple on the north side. Unknown to them at the time, for it had been dark, there was a hole in the ceiling to allow in a single spear of light over the stele -- and, according to Mr. Warren, it sat directly underneath what he called "the Noon Star." Indeed, at midnight, had they known to look up, they would have seen it through the hole in the roof, he had told him, though how he knew this, Andrew was lost for words. Perhaps Thomas would better understand the significance of such a feat.

Old building, built around stars. First time for everything. It apparently meant they were on the right track, according to the elder Warren.

Many of the auxiliaries had managed to clear away most of the debris, though not the stuff at the top. They had elected to ... abandon explosives until they were fairly sure those blasts could be contained to preserve the temple and its dead occupants.

They made his skin crawl, mummies in simple silk robes that had once been ochre, the dress of Buddhist monks - or at least their progenitors. He walked past the semi-circle of them to grab some more debris, caked in vines, moss, and all manner of plant life, prying it free with a huff. He delighted in the back-breaking work. It kept him from thinking about the night before. The things that he and Peter had seen. He had allowed the man to sleep late, using his foul news as an excuse to Greene, though not going into much detail about the matter for Peter's sake. He hauled the massive rock away, walking back towards a pile in the corner. As he did so, he passed both the Warrens studying the stele in its marred glory.

"...what they had said in the book. It is a shame that it's been destroyed this way. I wonder what happened."

"Jealousy, dear Angie. Spite, perhaps. We can't know fow certain, of course, but..."

The two had demanded to be here, the historians making this, that, or the other mention of some period or epoch, some meaningless drivel on symbolism, religion, etcetera. Andrew dumped his rock with a huff. It was what he was paid to do.

***​

Angelica glanced at her father, smoothing the light dress she had on. It was good to have him back, though the bags beneath his eyes and the waifish character of his form only served to remind her of the horrors he had seen. Her eyes dipped down, looking about. Six of the auxiliaries were working the room, the rest back at camp tending to other things, like mending tents, preparing food, oiling and cleaning guns. She had had barely a moment to speak to her father, what with Danford hovering over him, people around them at a constant pace. She glanced at him as he looked the stele over, fingering his now cropped-short beard.

"Father?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I... I do not wish to be the bearer of bad news, but... There is something which I must speak to you about," Angie said, her voice low. The stele loomed, its hollowed insides peeking out at them. Clean, white rock. Not a speck of dust or moss or lichen.

Her father turned, eyebrows drawing together.

"Yes...? What is it, pet?"

He brushed a stray lock from her face. She chewed her bottom lip, trying to compose herself. She had been chewing over how to say this for some time.

"Before you left... Mother--"

"I know, pet."

Her eyes snapped up to his face, his gaze morose and far off.

"I had guessed as much. When 'at village buwned, I knew then she, too, was lost. We were too late. Weren't we?"

Angelica's bottom lip trembled as she looked to the side, nodding. She sniffled, tears rolling down her face, and he hauled her into his side, his ribs pressed against her arms like bars. She clung to him for a moment, doing her best to maintain her composure, her stiff upper lip.

Henry Warren continued to stare up at the stele, face unreadable, his daughter leaning against him for comfort.

***​

"A most bizarre kind of death," Danford huffed, shovel over his shoulder, looking down at another of the former team. This one -- seemingly the last botanist for the team, a woman named Ingva Bromstein -- had had her bones scattered either by rain or scavengers. Her skull, however, had been speared through with a thin stake, hammered in through what would have been her ears.

"She wasn't dead beforehand?" Charles asked, himself digging another grave for Marcher, their historian.

"No way to tell now, but that would certain have lead to death. Yet, why like this? Ease of access? A macabre display? What purpose does this serve?" Danford asked himself, his pale eyebrows scrunching over light brown eyes. He shook his head, testing the depth of the hole. It was very hard work, digging here, with the roots of trees impeding much of the progress. The grave would have to be shallow and token. "Perhaps as a warning to others."

"No," Charles stated, looking about. "There were natives with the same manner of death. A stake through the ears, or sticks jammed into their skulls."

As if attempting to block out a voice. A word. A sound so terrible, one would rather go deaf than hear it.

--a native woman, kneeling by that hut as everything burned, a stick jammed into a bleeding ear as she cried from the pain. She took another stick, sharpened to a point by a hasty knife, his eyes transfixed upon her, ignoring all sense as she put the tip in her ear. Sobbing, she bit her lip as she took a rock and swung hard--

He hastily beat down the memory, if it was a memory. When he had walked into this glade, it was as if it had begun a steadily dripping tap of them. Had this... been one of the villages they had...? No. Always, he had at least had them evacuated, the buildings burned so as not to hide relics, to scare and move others off the remains of the old city, looking for clues. This was not their work.

But if it wasn't theirs -- whose was it? Who began this? Why did he remember this place?

He laid to rest Oliver Marcher's body into the hole, with the amulet he had so adored and fawned over. Samarkandish, or something. Full of potent luck. His skull was in tact.

Spoiler

And we have moved on to the second chapter! You have all survived the day. Congratulations! In this, I will allow all of you to decide where you want to be - with Charles' group, poking around the burnt village, or if you want to be in the temple. Considering I am currently in quarantine, I will, hopefully, also be doing sketches of these locations as well as any thing you guys might find. :^) Poke around, ask questions, get dirty. @Red Thunder @Kuno @Nemopedia @Ritual Lobotomy @DayDreamer @Applo