Storming The Castle

 (game date: 9/2/2021)

Gordi slipped into the half-open door of the Crystal Palace, and quickly exited.  "More zombies," she reported.  "A lot more."

No one could say that they were terribly surprised by this news.  Nor were we terribly concerned.  We'd come loaded for sun-babies, and the undead horde that we'd faced did not exactly present a "Rising Day" challenge.  Even so, we felt it safest if the youngest held back for a bit.  Since Cecily and Hilda were already low on ammunition, they volunteered to keep the kidlets busy with salvaging what they could from the shipwreck while the rest of us delved into this structure.

Speaking from personal experience, I would bet on those two, even unarmed, against practically any opponent, and the rugrats weren't exactly helpless themselves.  However, if it should come to pass that we needed to beat a hasty retreat, it would be nice if we didn't have to pause to pack first, so this wasn't wasted effort.  I left two of the Kourier drones with them, in case we strayed out of BANlink range.

After a quick conference, we decided to give Vamir the opening salvo.  Once he got into position, we threw open the double doors, and he blasted the reception hall with a cone of radiant energy, destroying half the shambling corpses at the outset.  

After that, it was a matter of coordination in battle.  I'm pleased to say that everyone comported themselves well, even the newest recruits.  Somewhere in the middle, the rotting zombies were joined by fleshless skeletons, but all the radiant energy being thrown about, the slain were not rising so readily as in the last battle.  With Maggy on first aid duty, not one of us suffered critical injury.  A far cry from our first uncoordinated encounters with torchwraiths.

We investigated methodically, not leaving any of the undead denizens to attack us from the rear.  Even so , we had to leave many doors unopened, simply because the palace had no power.  It may be that Ama herself will have to solve this problem, although I hope to do all that we can before bringing her here.  The neighbors, in particular, worry me.  Those golden mechs don't seem at all friendly.  

It was...a palace.  With living quarters, a large kitchen & dining area. ballroom, garage & docking area (albeit devoid of vehicles), an honest-to-goodness throne room...

When we reached the throne room, Vamir reported feeling something "watching him," although no one saw anything -- not even him.  In the chapel area beyond, we found a paper.  It looked like a page out of someone's journal, written in Trade Common, but an archaic, handwritten form.

He did it, he saved the palace from falling!  I do not know how, but he is in no state to ask.  I fear if he were questioned at this point it would undo this miracle.  Some were injured, but we would all be dead otherwise.  Perhaps if we can find a way to descend, we can tell him it is safe to release his hold?  I do not know if such a way can be found, however.  Whatever he has done to suspend the palace in the air seems to have also surrounded it with a dangerous wind.  We will have to try, at some point.  Though we have good stores set aside, eventually we will need to find more provisions...

I briefly wondered which of the zombies or skeletons was responsible for writing this journal.  I already had a strong hunch as to who "he" was that saved the palace.

Further on we found in a library filled with actual, bound books, similar to the type that were stored in "Ama's room" at Chystari before the sunbaby (or Gipson) burned them all.  Just as I was beginning to think that we were spending far too much time in this room -- for some arcane reason, the dusty tomes in foreign languages held a strange fascination for several of us -- we found another page:

It has been weeks, and still he has not emerged.  Some are beginning to wonder if he ever will.  We have gathered what seeds and sprouts we have in storage, and converted the solarium into a garden in the hopes of making our provisions endure, but some are already eyeing the one, small airship we have as though they might use it to escape this place.  On a clear day when the winds are not too strong, we can see what looks like one of the Great Cities in the distance.  I wonder sometimes if anyone sees us, or merely assumes we are some strange storm.

And while I was reading that, Varfana and Vamir found that one of the bookcases swiveled out of place to reveal a staircase leading up.  This was rather fortuitous, as we had earlier discovered a lift in the throne room.  This, of course, implied another floor, but without power, we had no way to get there.

When the hidden flight was revealed, the pixie complained of a draft.  I didn't feel anything, but one might expect her to be more sensitive to air currents.  

In the interest of not leaving anything behind us, we finished exploring the current floor before heading up.  All we found were barracks, with what I assume were the undead remains of soldiers guarding it.  These old bones put up more of a fight than most of the palace denizens had done so far, leaving Desi grumbling about "swat the pixie" and expressed a desire for higher ceilings.  We spent several minutes tending wounds, but we did find a third journal page there.  

It is too small.  I keep telling them, but they do not heed.  Heimon tells them they will survive, multiple trips even, and too many follow him to stop this mad attempt.  It is well that at least Dame Osanne and her people are reasonable - or at least prudent enough to see if success is possible in the first place.  I suppose I cannot fault them for hope of an escape, when so many now consider this supposed rescue from the Fall to be a curse, what with the storm cutting us off from the rest of the world.

By the time we returned to the library, the secret door that we had opened had closed again.  And as soon as we stepped into the room, Varfana...seized up.  

I don't know how else to put it.  She was the first in, and as soon as the last of us entered, her entire body went rigid, she turned around stiffly, and she spoke:  "We should leave."

The voice was hers, but if I hadn't seen her speaking, I wouldn't have recognized it.  The inflection was wrong - she sounded like that gnome that they'd brought back from the mountains, but also like she...couldn't quite remember how to talk?

Now, personally, when people start getting possessed by ghosts, who then proceed to say "Get out," or something to that effect, I'm generally in favor of doing just that, and I said so.  "I have a suggestion," I said.  "Let's do that. Go. Get Ama, and come back.  I suspect that whomever saved the Palace is still here, protecting it.  They saved it, for her.

"The storm will not make that easy," Katrya protested.  "I would rather find a way to land this thing first."

"I understand that, Katrya, but also, the storm is protecting it from the city."

Just as I was arguing my point, though, Varfana let out a surprised, "Ama..." and then nearly collapsed as whatever had her controlled left her under her own willpower again.  The bookcase opened up, and I stared.  

Varfana hugged herself and said, in a small voice, "Well that was weird," and Katrya just grinned and said, "We go up."

Our hard-won passage led, via another concealed doorway, to an art gallery.  On a pedestal holding up a busted bust, another scrap of parchment awaited.

It parted to let them pass!  I cannot believe the luck of it.  Was this part of his design, or is he still somehow aware?  -x-  It has been more than a week now since they left, and still no sign.  Have they abandoned us after all?  If they only went to the City, they should have returned...  The wind is not a curse!  I know not how he would have known it was needed, but it is a defense!  Heimon and his folk, what remain of them, returned this day bearing ill news of the Great City - Armenolos has again been entranced - enslaved! - by the Children of the Sun...

Several of us cursed upon reading this.  Of course, we suspected as much anyway, considering the behavior of the golden mechs, but the confirmation did not help our morale.

Beyond this gallery, one more hallway split off, leading us to a crafting room with a non-working service elevator, and a lounge with another stairway.  Guess which path we took upwards.  If you say "the elevator" I will slap you and make you read this entire entry over again.

The stair let into a solarium which had long ago overgrown  The residents must have converted it to a
garden in an attempt to make their food supply last -- much good did it do them in the end.  In this room we found the rest of the journal, the loaf from which the crumbs that led us here had been torn.  It contained many blank pages, but only one last entry.

There are so few of us now.  I suppose provisions should no longer be an issue.  The winds did not part for Heimon and his crew on their return - perhaps they are meant only to keep others, such as the Children, away?  The crash of the ship was terrible to behold, and many of those that survived the City did not survive the return.  Others died of their injuries.  That would be bad enough, but now we have seen the bodies of those dead rise again.  The winds may not be a curse, but there is still some fell power here.  Is there time to plan another escape, with no ship?

We had encountered no undead on this, the uppermost level of the palace, yet the feeling of foreboding was strongest here.  There was, after all, the spirit which overtook Varfana and tried to keep us out.  

"SOMEONE orchestrated this," Aru stated.  "These pages were strewn about like clues. We were spoken to by an entity through Varfana... Someone is here, even if we can't see them."

He decided to take a leap of faith.  Clearing his throat, he announced to the room, "I am temporarily offering my voice and forfeiting control. Please speak to my teammates."

The foxkin went rigid, just as Varfana had done.  Then he faced us and spoke, just as she had.  "Ama..."

There was a pause.  "Ama sent us to look for her home, yes," I prompted.

He started up again, this time finishing a sentence.  "Ama must return. Then, he... we... will be freed..."  He took a breath.  It looked like he was unaccustomed to breathing.  "He holds it for her..."

So far we hadn't been told much of value.  We had, after all, intended to bring Ama here.  I tried to get additional information.  "Will Ama be able to defend against the sun children?"

Aru just seemed confused. "Ama must return... He holds it for her."

I looked around.  "I think that means they don't know.  Do we have any other questions?"

Katrya shook her head in the negative.  "That seems to have answered most of them at once. ..Now we just need to get her here -safely-"

I had to agree.  Addressing Aru's ghostly guest, I said, "We will bring Ama. Please release Aru."

He said, "She must reclaim what is hers."

"That's the plan, sport."  I was beginning to worry.  No one present knew a damn thing about exorcism.

Aru's eyes started to flicker, as if he were waking from a dream.  After a few seconds of that, his muscles relaxed.  He didn't quite fall to the floor, but it was obvious that the constant rigidity had taken its toll.  

"Well.. that was unpleasant," he said, in his normal voice, "but they didn't overstay their welcome.  I appreciate that."  Then he asked if, in our exploration of this structure, we had noticed whether any of the rooms had unusual flooring.  I couldn't recall any such, but reminded him that several rooms had been locked.  It was an odd thing for him to ask.  Maybe he had a vision.  Ghosts, man.

We headed for the exit, and met up with Cecily and Hilda coming in to check on us.  My methodical style of exploration, while relatively safe, apparently tests everyone's patience.  

"Glad to see you still up and around, instead of those zombies," Cecily quipped.  "Everything ok in here?"

We gave her a brief rundown, tag-teaming.  When she heard about the sunbabies, she cursed, rather colorfully, in more languages than I recognized.  But not before she asked about the Pattern, which confused us.  We hadn't found any such thing.

"Yes, the Pattern. The Power source for the palace."

"I don't think we found it," I told her.  "A lot of locked doors, no active power.  We did make contact, of a sort.  Aru did."

"Oh..."  She looked disappointed.  "You didn't go downstairs, then?"

"Down...."  I slapped my forehead.  Every stairway led up; I never even thought to look for one going down.

"It's ok," Ms. Blackrose said.  "The way I hear it, the original Samaritans only found it after someone from one of the Great Cities pointed it out. Here..."

Cecily looked around, orienting herself, and headed for the wall between the double staircase. She pressed a spot that seemed absolutely no different from the rest of the wall, and the wall - which to that point seemed like a perfectly solid, seamless, non-openable wall - opened.  

And while the rest of us were boggling, Aru just smiled.  "Yes, this way," he said.

Downstairs, we found the entire reason I thought I would be needed on this trip.  Or, would have been if there were any power.  The basement level was filled with tek.  Panels, consoles, some raised, some on the walls, displays, lighting - none of it on, of course.  In the center, hanging above like some chandelier was a large crystalline structure. Below it, centered in the room, is an inlaid design on the floor, a circular pattern formation.

There was Cecily's "Pattern," and Aru's "unusual flooring."  And in the middle of it, a bubble of whirling energy, obscuring a form within.  I stepped closer.

The figure was ancient, hardly recognizable, but with flowing robes swirling about it in the breeze of whirling energy. Its arms were outstretched, palms up, as though in supplication - but suspended above them, a pendant on a chain.

Cecily gasped.  She knew him.  I had never met the man, but I'd seen his face in a very old recording.  

Maxwell Samaritan. 

Still alive, after a thousand years, holding this structure, and every soul within, in undying stasis.

(to be continued)