The three adventurers still stood in a trampled clearing at the edge of a swamp, not far from a feebly kicking monster that had tried to devour them, and right by a dead pirate and also-dead Basil Ringrose's right-hand-man, Carson.

McCurdy let his “cousin” loose, his eyes still on Hawksmoore. He stood tall from the woman and pushed her bound wrists toward Marianne without looking. He was too engrossed with the fallen boy. The look upon his face was shocked, and the shock was all-encompassing.

“Hawksmoore...?”

The detective took a tentative step toward the fallen man and then another quickly followed, and then another until he had dropped to a knee at the man’s side and was looking at the bullet hole in his chest, the hole that wasn’t bleeding. McCurdy dropped his hat off his head as his other hand clamped over his chin, wringing his mouth as if he was trying to keep something terrible from getting out. He finally took his eyes off the boy and ran a hand slowly over his head, pausing with his hand on his neck. He held that position for a long moment and then jerked his head up and dropped his hat back on his head. He reached down and took Hawksmoore’s gun, cutlass, and machete.

“Would you mind lookin’ after the other two for a bit, Padre?” His voice was rough and he looked very tired, tired and angry. “Hawksmoore said the fountain was near and he started in that direction. I reckon that’s the way we should go.” The detective turned to Marianne and then looked at Liza beside her. There was pain in his eyes.

“I’ll be along shortly,” he finally said, but he wasn’t looking at either of them. “Something I’ve gotta do...” He was staring at Carson as he said it. He didn’t look happy. In fact, he looked as cold and hard as a stone locked in a brick of ice.

Brother Clary watched all this with little emotion on his face.  Then he spoke slowly.  "Brother, now is not the time.  We go together."  Those that heard him could sense a weariness in his voice with all of the events of their adventure.  A sense that too much had been lost.  He had been raised to keep his emotions in check, but the others could sense that cracks were beginning to appear in the facade.  "A house divided..." he began, then checked himself.

"I agree.  We need to go in that direction," he indicated Hawksmoore's preferred route, "but we need to attend to the fallen first.  If'n you give me a hand here, we'll face the end together."

With that, he began to arrange the bodies so as to at least do a passable semblance of a funeral for both, now that they immediate danger was past.  he still wasn't sure how to bury them though; that might take too long, and they were on a mission, one that they had to complete before it was too late.

McCurdy stopped him, his grey eyes shining like steel. “We’ll be takin’ Hawksmoore with us, padre,” he said as if the preacher had not heard him right. Then he realized he was going to have to spell it out. “Hawksmoore may not be dead. Hornsby said a short while ago that when someone that has taken from the fountain dies he comes back. Somewhat different, he said, but he comes back.” He looked at Carson for a moment. “I ain’t stopping to bury anyone; I ain’t leaving you all to go on without me. But I aim to see that those that don’t need to come back, don’t.” The machete in his hand moved slightly as he squinted hard at the preacher.

“You get me yet, padre?”

Marianne silently wiped the tears from her eyes. "If - If we can reach the fountain, maybe..." Water would help him. The water of the fountain would help him. Or was it too late even for that?

It was clear from the way McCurdy held his machete what his intentions were, and her heart grew heavy. Whatever his sins, that was still Carson. "Do what you will, McCurdy," she said tiredly. He would anyway. "Just - do it quickly. We'll wait."

Was Basil watching them right now? Laying a trap for them? She stared off in the direction that 'Hornsby' had wanted to go. Was the real Hornsby out there somewhere? Or was he dead too, along with all the rest of them? Her gaze shifted to the sky as she tried to make out the hour. How much time did Liza have? How much time did they all?

McCurdy looked at Marianne. He looked a bit startled. And impressed. His eyes softened the more he looked at her and his jaw tightened. "It ain't nothin' for anyone to see or hear if they don't have to," he said softly. "Just... move up the trail a ways and I'll be right behind. I ain't gotta be outta sight. Just... don't look."

He waved the machete at the trail and looked at the preacher again. "Go on up the road. I'll be along. Ain't much time to dally anyhow."

Brother Clary matched eyes with McCurdy and fully understood what his intentions were.  "Were'n we back home, I would try to stop you, since no matter what this feller did, and I know he's done a lot, he was still created in God's image and shouldn't be treated like a prize hog after the fair."  Before McCurdy could reply, "But we ain't home and I know what must be done must be done.  God forgive us."

He then turned to Marianne.  "Ma'am, I can't carry the young feller there and my shotgun too.  I'm a-gonna need you to carry it fer me."  He handed her the weapon, with an unspoken "careful" in his expression.  At length, he stooped to pick up the prone Hawksmoore and drape him across his shoulders in a "fireman's carry" position.

Allowing Marianne to lead the way followed by the bound and vacant-eyed Liza, the black-clad preacher fell into step behind them, listening for any sound that might indicate danger to McCurdy.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:16, Wed 26 Apr 2006.

Marianne accepted the shotgun silently and led the way a few steps further up the path with a last look at the fallen Carson. The jungle seemed an almost insurmountable barrier penning them in on all sides. It was dark, oppressive, evil. Marianne kept McCurdy within view and within earshot and then turned away to keep watch for danger. If her expression looked as if she was holding back tears, she nevertheless retained a death grip on the gun.

"Preacher, what Carson told you about the cross... What - what do you make of it?"

"I'm a still chewin' on it, ma'am."  Brother Clary seemed weighed down by a burden other than the young pirate.  "I have a guess that to stop our bad guy, we gotta cut down a tree.  But which one, I ain't got a notion."

The lizard squirrel chirruped, balancing itself on McCurdy's shoulder as if it was a trained pet, its cold wet little nose sniffling at the breeze that was rising. The breeze carried a sharp smell, like cut grass, with overtones of honey and spices.   Apart from that, the light was strange; there was no sun that they could see, but their shadows were growing longer, almost as Marianne watched.

Brother Clary picked up the fallen Hawksmoore, who was heavier than he looked, and slung the body over his shoulders.  Marianne now held his shotgun.  Prodding made Liza walk forward, but she had to be watched, for she would slack off and stand there if unattended.

McCurdy finished with his grisly task and noticed that there was already a scavenger circling above - what would have been a buzzard anywhere else, was instead a pink and tan lizard-bird with a long head and batwings.  It was waiting for them to depart, circling on the air currents.

The path ahead was no doubt as full of trouble as the path behind them.  Marianne stepped out ahead, sending a small frog scrambling for cover, and they were again on the move.  Almost ten paces into the marshy field, another black stone marker was standing - in the direction that Hawksmoore had suggested they go.  Something was shuffling along in the shadows of some underbrush - a small thing, about the size of a cat, with grey stripes and a parrot's beak.  It shied away from them, long tail whipping as it fled.  Something else was crashing along through the brush too, heading their way, something somewhat larger.

Marianne's eyes were worried as she scanned the skies and then examined the stele to see how far they had come. She turned to the preacher. "What if we can't find a way to get it?" she argued. "Basil may have the cross, but you are the only one who can use it. That must be worth something to him. Liza and Hornsby -"

She broke off at the rustling in the bushes and immediately brought the shotgun up in the direction of the sound.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:07, Sat 29 Apr 2006.

"Move!" McCurdy hissed from the back of the line and he started moving more quickly forward, catching up to Liza, hugging her along even faster. "I don't know what it is, but if it's like everything else in this jungle, it will treat us like food."

The adventurers moved along faster, as the crashing in the shadowy undergrowth got louder.  They were hampered in their movement by Liza Waters, who wouldn't manage more than a fast trot, and Brother Clary, laden with the heavy Hawksmoore.  Finally the vines and leaves burst apart in a fury as something came out of them, and headed towards them, in the face of Marianne's borrowed shotgun.

It stood on two legs, was covered with rags, mud and leaves, and swore horribly, in wheezing gasps.  "Feck me sideways...bollocky briars...godsbedamned lizards..."  And it overlooked the shotgun, to look at Brother Clary.  "Oh, no, lad," said the much scraped, battered and filthy Hornsby in a different voice, one that shivered in shock and woe.

Marianne glared as she kept the gun pointed steadily at the mud-spattered man. "You will stay right there until we are certain who you are," she warned. He certainly swore like Hornsby, but after Carson's deception, they needed to make sure. If only they had asked him last time... Her expression grew angrier.

"Tell me, Captain, what is the name of the pilot with whom we flew here - and his dog?"

Hornsby paid scant attention to Marianne, instead raising a grubby, scraped hand to touch Hawksmoore's still face.  "Lad," he said again, miserably, and only at Marianne's sharp query did he look back at her, his brow furrowed.  "Twas Gruber, M'lady, Hans Gruber, and his pet's a snake, a big red boa.  The snake's name...it's Elise.  No, that's his aeromachinegummy's name."

Marianne nodded. That was good enough for her. She lowered her borrowed shotgun. "Can you help him?" she asked, her throat tightening.

McCurdy wanted to know the answer to that question as well. He pushed on Liza's shoulder to plop her in a sitting position on the ground and looked at Hornsby. The detective didn't know Hawksmoore all that well, but Peter Pan had saved his butt a time or two already. He really didn't want to see an end to that.

He pulled a camel from a crumpled pack and was glad it didn't have blood on it. He lit up and took a lungful of smoke as if he needed it...

McCurdy's attempt to light up had a nosy little beast trying to interfere with the lighter and the whole process, but it sneezed and gave him an accusatory look as the smoke got it its bristly little face.  With a snort, it bounded down to the ground again, piddled on a marker stone, and then stopped to scratch behind an ear with one clawed foot.  Liza sat down like a discarded doll, staring off blankly.

"Nay, lass, that I cannot," Hornsby said, after a pause, his voice still choked. "But the fountain can. There's no time to waste - when you weary, Padre, I will carry him."   It seemed that a rest wasn't going to happen, for the now half-winded adventurers.

He turned then, to go back towards the path, and the sun drew his shadow out onto the ground. Brother Clary saw it clearly.  Then Hornsby was off, at a dogtrot, beckoning them to follow.  Liza was dragged to her feet and stumbled along obediently.  The lizard squirrel followed him too, with long bouncy bounds.

The path became more rocky, and downsloped into a bare, stony valley, where a tapping sound was echoing, but this didn't give Hornsby a moment's pause.  The stones showed signs of water having cut them often in the past, and scrubby trees and bushes were growing in cracks in the stone.  A figure was down there, at the far end of the valley, and there was a slight tapping sound as he was plying a small hammer against the rock wall.  The man looked rather innocuous, wearing travel-worn khakis, dusty, scraped boots, and a floppy straw hat of native manufacture.  From his tanned face, with the heavy, greyshot mustachios and complexion, he was of Hispanic origin, and as they trouped towards him, he left off tapping the stone and looked at them, hailing them in Spanish with a Bolivian accent, and squinting against the sun to see them properly.  "Good day to you !"  he said, "Are you lost ? I've been lost for weeks now, but I've found the most astonishing fossil here."  He blinked at Marianne's holding the shotgun, then spotted Hawksmoore.  "Let me have a look at him, I'm a doctor," he said then. "My name is Hector Corazon."  Without any concern for his own safety, he abandoned his fossil - a dull brown thing in the rock, and with a practiced manner, felt for a pulse in Hawksmoore's neck.  "How long has he been like this ?  You should not transport a coma patient in this manner, it would be better to place him on a litter."

"There's no time for such things," Hornsby replied, in very good Spanish.  "We must be going, Doctor Corazon."  It seemed to strike a memory in him. "You wouldn't happen to have a daughter, would ye ?"
"Oh, yes, Placida.  Very promising, especially in cardiomyopathy work." Apparently his daughter was also a doctor.   Hector Corazon was still looking at Hawksmoore and producing a concerned 'hmmmm'.  "I don't suppose she has sent you to look for me ?"
"She might have mentioned it," Hornsby allowed, and looked away from Corazon's sudden glare.
"You are that man, that Hornsby !"  the doctor said sharply, "You have much to answer for, sir, much indeed.  If I was a violent man...and had not promised the native chief I would not lose my temper, I would challenge you to a duel."  He left off his examination of Hawksmoore and looked over at Liza. "Are you aware that this lady seems to be in a catatonic state ?  What is the matter with you people, transporting the ill in such a manner ?"

As soon as he had gently set Hawksmoore down so that the doctor could examine him, Brother Clary quietly retrieved his shotgun from Marianne.  "Thanks, Ma'am, fer keepin' a good eye on this piece fer me.  My Daddy gave me this shotgun when I jest turned twelve....



With eyes narrowed, the black clad preacher from Texas answered.  "Sorry, Doc, but we was in sit'ation where we either moved fast, or we weren't gonna move again."

Marianne handed over the shotgun a little reluctantly and turned to McCurdy. "Hawksmoore's gun?" she gestured.

"As Brother Clary says, we have no time to waste, Senor. We must reach the fountain as soon as we can. Will you come with us? We could use your expertise and -" she looked sharply at Hornsby, "It seems you have much to discuss with him. Yes or no, please tell us now. We must be on our way."

McCurdy eyed Marianne for a moment and then pulled Hawkesmoore’s pistols from his belt, looking at them in his hands. He hefted them as if weighing them and then cocked an eye at Marianne, waiting until she was done asking her questions. He stuffed one pistol back in his belt as if deciding and then checked the load in the other. He handed the Colt M1911 to her, watching her through the trail of smoke from the cigarette in his lips.

“I reckon you’ve used one of these cannons before?”

"Never," Marianne replied with a cheerful smile, taking the gun from McCurdy. From her expression it was clear this was another weapon Hawksmoore wouldn't be getting back, though she hoped he would awaken to ask for it. "But I assume, when it comes down to it, I just point this end at the monsters and pull the trigger?"

Dr. Hector Corazon took in these explanations with a noncommittal, doctorish "Hmmmmm."  He put the little hammer into a loop on his belt with an air of finality, though his eyes still did flash a warning as he glanced at Hornbsy, who had the grace to look sheepish. "I shall go and speak to the people of this place - they will help.  They are very kind, the Lupino.  Your friends need proper care.  You all look like you could use a rest, too." He paused to look at the lizard squirrel, which was clambering up McCurdy's trouser-leg again, to scrabble its way back to the man's shoulder.  "What a curious animal," he said, moving closer to peer at it.  It reached out with the clever little paws and snatched his glasses off, tasted them and threw them down with a 'Ptui !"  The doctor picked them up, tcchhed at a scratch on the lens, and polished them with a faded bandana.

"Must be going," Hornsby said brusquely, "As much as we should go to the Lupino, Doctor, we really do not have the time."  He picked up Hawksmoore with a grunt of effort, and set off at a trot along the valley, apparently not interested in meeting any of the locals.  He did pause, long enough to say to the three travellers, "Come on then - you've come this far.  Don't you want to see the Fountain for yourselves ?"   The lowering sun stretched out his shadow, bulked with Hawksmoore across his shoulders.  (Spot hidden rolls please, everyone, % dice !)

McCurdy looked at the "doctor" as the squirrel tossed his spectacles and smirked. "Must taste like a hat." He looked to Hornsby when he called after them and then hefted Liza to her feet, taking an arm and leading her before him.

"Hair-trigger," he said to Marianne. "Make sure the thumb safety stays up until you need to pull the trigger. And hold it tight. It will try to jump out of your hand." His eyes lingered on her as he walked Liza after Hornsby. He wasn't keen on her having the gun, but he wouldn't leave anyone defenseless if he didn't have to. Even if she was a woman.

Lingering behind, Brother Clary was content to take his rearguard position.  As the others moved forward, he levered a shell into the chamber so smoothly that the others almost didn't see it.

Marianne nodded and put the gun away. She asked Hornsby curiously, "It seems impossible that Dr. Corazon made it this far alone and without learning very much about where this path leads. But this place seems almost... normal. How far are we from the fountain, Captain? And who are the Lupino?"

Hornsby looked as if he wanted to shout at Marianne to belay her queries and shift her arse, but manfully fought it down.  The weight of Hawksmoore across his shoulders didn't seem to slow him down much, despite his battered condition. "We're close - and close enough to encounter trouble.  Let's be going, now."

Jack McCurdy felt a prickly-clawed paw wrap around his ear, and a cold wet nose poking his cheek to get his attention.  Then the little squirrel-lizard most definitely pointed - in the direction of the fountain.

Meanwhile, two of the adventurers noticed something...strange.  A very cold chill washed over Marianne and Brother Clary, though Jack McCurdy was too busy herding Liza Waters to notice.  The doctor frowned as they went along down the valley, but made no move to stop them.  Brother Clary, in the rear, had the best view; the air ahead was shimmering, with an opalescent effect that if you looked too directly at, it vanished.  Marianne, speaking to Hornsby, noticed that the old pirate most definitely wanted to be moving on - and his patience was fraying.

"The Lupino live here," Hornsby said, stomping as he headed onwards.  "They're a tribe that's been around a long while."  He laughed then, though it was not his typical easy laugh, more of a sardonic chortle. "A _very_long_ while.  If they want to be seen, they will be. Do ye mind to come along now, lass, the lad's heavy." He headed down the path, in the lead.

Hector Corazon watched after them for a while, then went back to his fossil.  They could hear the tapping of the little hammer on stone matrix as they headed along the rocky path out of the valley, coming up onto a gently sloping, gravelled hill, and overlooking another wider valley, that spread out in a wash of green and grey, with a cut-stone path exactly like the one they had seen before.  The black marker stones didn't look so worn, now, either; they had definite shapes.  All of them were gargoyles, demons, or monsters, of various kinds.  And they could see two people picking their way along the path, in the distance, perhaps a half-mile off.  At this distance, it was hard to make out any details, but both figures moved with a singular purpose, towards the centre of the valley.  The sun was setting - or perhaps rising, it was impossible to tell.  The compass that had been on Hawkmoore's belt merely spun its needle to and fro....though anyone watching Hawksmoore would see his dangling right hand suddenly twitch, close, and then open again. Liza Waters trotted along passively, dragged by McCurdy.

A gentle breeze whispered over the valley, carrying with it the sound of voices...and more faintly, wails and screams.  There was a crisp smell of water, fresh water, as well.

Brother Clary steals up the column until he's just behind McCurdy's right ear.

"Brother, there's somethin' powerful wrong here, and I don't know if you've seen what I seen, but you need to be ready.  Pass it on to the little lady up ahead -- but don't let Hornsby hear!" He whispered.

McCurdy looked long at the tall preacher and not without a bit of puzzlement in his grey eyes. He didn't what the preacher was talking about, but after this day, he didn't much doubt anything he was told. He felt of his pistols beneath his coat and looked at Hornsby up ahead, curiosity taking him.

He just nodded and waited.

Marianne was still following along behind the pirate, but now she was lagging behind slightly. Her expression, as she turned to look at the preacher and McCurdy, was a warning, and she had her gun in hand. She indicated Hornsby with a slight movement.

McCurdy noticed Marianne's look and narrowed his eyes at her in question. Quickly he mouthed a one word question: What?

Marianne shook her head and mouthed one word back: Demon

McCurdy's brow wrinkled above one eye as he looked at her. His grip tightened on Liza's arm as one of his pistol's found its way into his hand. He eased closer to Marianne. His eyes never left Hornsby.

Marianne whispered back urgently.

The adventurers traipsed along, noting that Hornsby was picking up the pace, despite the dead weight of Hawksmoore across his shoulders.  Liza Waters amiably walking, was dragged along by McCurdy.  The sound of tapping on stone faded into the distance, but then there was another sound - a single shot, fired, up ahead.  One of the two figures nearest the fountain fell.

Up ahead, Hornsby paused, but only for an instant.  "They keep not to the code," he muttered, apparently to no one, or perhaps to Hawksmoore, and walked onwards, apparently unaware that his shadow was...strange, and that they had noticed.  He seemed single-mindedly heading to the fountain.

The fuzzy lizard on McCurdy's shoulder chattered cheerfully at Marianne, reaching for her red hair as she drew close to speak to the detective.  It seemed to view all of the world as a happy place, especially from the perch it kept to.

Brother Clary, at the back again and very watchful, hears another sound behind him - footsteps, on the path.  A tall, dark-haired, deeply tanned woman is striding along, and frowns at him, about a hundred and fifty feet away.  A dusty, ragged rucksack is hanging from her shoulders, and she has a Remington rifle slung over her right shoulder.  Her hands are empty.  Her dress is mannish, too; khaki trousers with stained knees, a dirty t-shirt, and tall, dusty boots.

They were now close enough to get a good view of the fountain; it was the same, nondescript one they'd seen before, a small, quiet stone fountain, with several strange grey-green bushes scattered around it, in a clearing paved with nice stonework.

"Damn, this is a busy place," McCurdy said aloud at the sound of the other gunshot. He was looking at Hornsby with a careful eye now, wondering what in the hell was going on.

He leaned closer to Marianne again, a wiff of her perfume suddenly so clear to his senses, and spoke quietly.

Marianne was startled to hear another gunshot and she studied the two distant figures briefly, trying to make out what was happening. She was smiling as she picked up the chattering squirrel from McCurdy's shoulder and scratched its head lightly. As the private eye told her his plan, her manner grew annoyed and she whispered something back with a decided shake of her head.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:44, Wed 31 May 2006.

Startled, Brother Clary finds his voice.  "Friends, we got company," he said, never taking his eyes off of the strange woman.

Then to her, "Ma'am, this seems to be a strange place for someone like you. Mind if'n I ask how you got here?"  His tone was friendly, but it was obvious that he still carried his shotgun at the ready.

Marianne immediately turned around, her gun at the ready. Surveying the woman before them carefully, she suddenly realized that this must be the Baroness - or the Countess - that Liza had described. From what her friend had said, the woman was deadly. She waited to hear what the Baroness had to say, although she watched Hornsby out of the corner of her eye from time to time.

The lovely woman surveyed them with a haughty glare. "My business is none of yours," she said, her accent redolent of Eastern Europe. "Get out of my way."  With that, she strode forward, clearly intent on bypassing them on the path.  The sight of the battered adventurers seemed to be of little interest to her.  As she passed by Brother Clary, he saw the hilt of a rapier in the back of her rucksack, the sheath hidden under the canvas - it had the most beautifully chased and begemmed guard he'd ever seen.  She walked as if she owned the road...and perhaps the world, and even sneered at Hornsby, who glanced back at her briefly.

(everyone, roll spot hidden ! % dice)

 McCurdy didn't get to finish what he had been whispering to Marianne due to the interruption. He didn't seem at all surprised that someone else had shown up to tempt the fate of the well and generally mess with the whole snowball.

McCurdy just eyed the woman as she stalked by in her haughty airs and concentrated on Hornsby...

Marianne seemed mollified by McCurdy's answer and nodded at him. She returned to her scrutiny of Hornsby and their surroundings, looking around for the trees that Carson had referred to. "Captain, what is the code and what happens when you break it?" she asked.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:14, Fri 02 June 2006.

Hornsby frowned at the haughty woman, but was polite enough to step aside, allowing her to stalk past him.  She did not look back, but went onwards towards the fountain.  Then he looked back at the three adventurers, who had noticed nothing strange (or rather, any stranger than usual).  "Time was - " he began, with another scowl at the use of such a word in this place. "Time was, we who have drunk from the fountain, swore to keep peace on the path to the fountain, whatever our personal business might be outside in the world.  De Vega and  Bastian never fought on the path itself, but the city or anywhere else their paths crossed, that was ever another matter.  Those of us who remember our days on the account - to wit, as pirates, also kept to the code of parley.  Yet I see tis not the way of things now."  he nodded up ahead, towards the fountain, where someone had apparently shot someone else.

Something occurred to Hornsby, as he set off again along the path. He turned and looked back at them.  "Tis not a safe place anymore, I think.  Mind yourselves." and with that, he went back to his long strides, heading down the path into a valley that was somehow outside of time.  The changeable light cut through the valley now, suddenly sharp, then fading into softness, cutting shadows and then allowing them to blur together again.  It was just a plain, small fountain with some odd little shrubs, then it was suddenly a gushing geyser, surrounded by huge trees....and fading into the mist, then brightly seen by strong sunlight.  Four people stood by the fountain now, apparently waiting; the adventurers could see the woman had reached it, and three men were there, clearly seen less than a quarter-mile away.

One of the men was Basil Ringrose.  The sight of Ringrose made Hornsby pause again, but he did not stop.  Another was Lafitte, and the third, McCurdy recognised his apparel first - it was a German Luftwaffe uniform, glinting with medals and rank.

Marianne took the opportunity to whisper to Brother Clary. _{"Preacher, do you see any likely trees around here? We need that cross more than ever."}

Brother Clary squinted at the strange scene before him, then shook his head. 

The adventurers, trailing after Hornsby, noticed that the shifting landscape came and went, almost like breathing.  With a cheerful chirrup, the little lizard-squirrel jumped from McCurdy's shoulder and bounded ahead in big bouncy leaps.  Another pair had come up to the fountain now - another man, old, barefoot and in rags, long white hair draggled over his tattered shoulders, and a Hispanic-looking woman of a very fine figure, her long hair in a half-undone bun, her leather vest hanging in shreds and her left arm in an impromptu sling.

As the group approached, Brother Clary addressed the woman in the sling.  *Bien Venidos, Senorita!*  Ain't you looking for your daddy?  My guess is we ran into him a little ways back up the road.  He was lookin' at some fossil he found." The Texas preacher casually indicated the direction with his shotgun.

McCurdy entered the clearing with Liza and set her down on the stones near the fountain, telling her to stay put. He never took his eyes from any of the strangers and never let his hand stray too far from one of his guns. He never said a word either...

Marianne eyed the strange couple curiously, but she was preoccupied by other matters. "Captain, do you know someone by name of Sawney or De Leon?" She assumed it was Ponce de Leon that Carson had referred to, but she hadn't spotted any likely conquistadors in the area. She knew she was taking a chance asking Hornsby, but they were drawing closer to the fountain now, and if the cross wasn't already in Basil's hands, she was going to make damn sure it was in the preacher's.

The Hispanic woman with her arm in the sling startled when addressed, but even after what had apparently been a difficult journey, she saw Brother Clary and his face seemed slightly familiar.  "Where is my father ?"  she demanded, and then she saw Hornsby - she glared at him fiercely, but had apparently other things on her mind, so her attention returned to Brother Clary.  At his indication of direction, she immediately began to head that way.

With a grunt, Hornsby put down his burden, Hawksmoore lying as if dead very close to a spiky-looking bush.  It seemed that Hornsby was tougher than he looked, for the man's eyes were steel-sharp.

Liza plonked down where placed, still staring off into space, and McCurdy took stock of the others.  The old man looked mad, with haunted eyes and a tremulous smile.  Lafitte looked cautious.  Basil Ringrose was smiling, the very image of a gentle old fellow without a care in the world, which sent a chill along McCurdy's spine.

Marianne's question was answered, surprisingly, from behind her. "Ah, Senorita, it is the rag-man you see before you, who is the great de Leon, the first European to discover this place," came an oily Spanish-accented voice.  Behind her was de Vega, looking none the worse for wear, smiling a devilish smile.

The squirrel-creature did a happily lollopping run around the fountain, then bounced up onto the edge of it, where a roughly carved rock made a sort of small platform.  Then it stood up - and up...its shape blurring and increasing, until it became a small, plump woman with dark skin and a delightfully smiling face, her black hair braided and dressed in shells and sparkling emeralds.  The men bowed to her, though Doctor Corazon (the younger) watched Brother Clary.  The other dark-haired woman curtseyed, a perfect court curtsey of a bygone age.

"So, you have come, you who are brave and bold," the ex-squirrel spoke, her voice a warm one that resonated in the adventurer's bones along with the gentle bubbling of the fountain, "You have come to my fountain.  Your days shall be without number, to the end of the world, but you will belong to me if you drink of my fountain and offer me your own fountain, to make the tree of your life take root and grow here.  It is your choice. One of you will become mine today."  Gula spread her arms, raising them to the shifting sky, and still smiling, vanished into a spray of dragonflies, which zoomed around and disappeared.  Hornsby did not hesitate for an instant, but immediately went to the fountain and drank a handful of the water, then walked to a small, rugged little bush and slashed open his palm with a knife, letting the drops of blood splatter onto it.  Before their eyes it shivered...and grew, just a little.

At the scene before them, Brother Clary caught Marianne's eye and nodded at Hornsby's activity.  He mouthed the word 'machete' to her.

Marianne caught the preacher's gaze and looked uncertain about what to do. How would Gula react if they cut down Basil's tree right there by her fountain? And then there were all the demons, both those right in front of them and those hidden in the shadows beyond the path.

But Basil was sure to have something up his sleeve and if they waited for him to make a move it might be too late. She slipped the gun into her bag and quietly grabbed the machete, watching for the right moment.

The adventurers watched as the tall, dark-haired woman next stalked to the fountain, and pulled a golden cup from her pack.  This she used to scoop up some of the water and drink, elegantly, and then she moved to a lean, very spiky-looking bush towards the north, to make it a blood offering.

Hornby's normally easy-going smile was long gone, and the expression that replaced it was cold and hard.  He turned back towards Brother Clary, and spoke in a low tone that was just loud enough for McCurdy and Marianne also to overhear.  "One of us is going to become a demon," he said. "And the only thing that can bring it down easy is that cross.  By the code, I cannot help you."

(GM: Spot hidden, % dice please !)
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:56, Sun 25 June 2006.

Marianne nodded. Was this what her vision had meant? She had a million questions to ask, but perhaps it was already too late for them.

"Captain, which tree is Basil's?" she asked quietly. "And which one of this group is Sawney?"

"I cannot tell you, I am bound by a code that you are not," Hornsby said in a low tone, to Marianne's first question, though Brother Clary and McCurdy could hear him, "And Sawney is the mad old man."

As they stood there, Lafitte moved next to the fountain, scooping up a handful of water with more elegance than Hornsby had done, and drank.  It would only be a matter of time before Basil Ringrose took his turn at the fountain...and who knew what would happen when the last of them did so...or indeed, if any of the three adventurers decided to take their chances for immortality...or damnation.

Brother Clary watched the proceedings with righteous indignation brewing deep inside his lanky frame.  "Consarn it," he muttered to himself.

He carefully took note of Ringroses' position, looking to see if he could discover where the cross and his Bible were, and if he could cross the distance to the bushes quickly enough before anyone could react.

Brother Clary determined there was ample time to circle the fountain and get close to Ringrose, or indeed, to any of the other people there around the fountain.  And, given the constantly changing light, he would also be able to get a good look at the shadows being cast.  He set to sidling over towards Ringrose, who made no move against that, or indeed, in reaction to.

Marianne looked from Hornsby to Hawksmoore with a slight frown, her focus shifting back to Basil almost immediately as she noted the preacher circling around towards Ringrose. She approached the old man, trying frantically to guess which tree was Basil's. Marianne remembered only one Sawney from her history lessons, but she had a bad feeling she was about to meet the very same one in the flesh.

McCurdy was in a daze. He was clenching his fists to clear his mind of all the madness. He was clenching so hard that his fingernails were cutting into his palms. He could feel his blood slicking his hands and it helped to clear his mind. He was trying to watch everyone at once and realized it was not necessary. The European woman was here for herself and did not seem to care for the others. The old madman - Sawney or De Leon, the captain had said - seemed lost in his own world and the young Doctor Corazon was more worried about her father than anything else. The German pilot seemed to care not but for his own concerns as well. McCurdy was not quite certain where Lafitte’s interests lay, but he didn’t seem to be a threat at the moment. That left Ringrose and De Vega.

De Vega he would try to kill at the slightest wrong move, otherwise McCurdy could not care less about him. But it was Ringrose that he finally settled upon. Ringrose was the man that stabbed him in the jungle; Ringrose was the man that did something to Liza; Ringrose was the man that had the cross.

McCurdy moved finally. He knelt beside Hawksmoore quickly and removed the water flask from his pack. Then he stepped up to the fountain pouring the water from the flask as he approached it. He stopped at the edge and gazed into the water of the fountain. He looked at Liza then, at the distant gaze in her lifeless eyes. No matter what happened to these people now, no matter what happened to the world outside this godforsaken jungle - no matter what happened to him - McCurdy and Ringrose were going to settle this thing.

McCurdy dunked the empty flask into the water and let it fill. Then he looked at Ringrose and removed one of his pistols from its home, resting it lightly but readily in his hand. His finger caressed the trigger as he stared at Ringrose. He held the water flask close to his chest, droplets of the water of the fountain dropping slowly to disturb the serene surface.

“You gonna drink, old man? And offer your blood to the bush that sustains your immortality?” McCurdy smiled crookedly and the light in his eyes was almost maniacal. “It will be the last drink you take... unless you undo what you did to Mrs. Waters.” His tone left no doubt as to what he intended if Ringrose did not restore what he had taken from Liza.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:36, Mon 10 July 2006.

"You have drawn from the fountain, Mr. McCurdy," Basil Ringrose spoke in the most austere and gentlemanly tones, his gaze as mellow as his voice.  "It is your turn to drink, and to decide to feed the earth from your blood and take you own place among us, as immortals - or near to it, as near to it as any man can aspire.  With it you accept the risks we all did.  Refuse...well, I must admit, I have never seen what happens to one who took Gula's tears and refused her bounty.  What's that saying, something about no fury like a woman scorned ?"

But he did then shift his gaze to Liza Waters. "Ah, the dear old bird that she is, a game one too," he said, with a smile. "She's been a little useful, but not much, I confess.  I don't mind losing her as a servant.  Feed her this - you'll have to jam it down her throat, but it should still work.  I wouldn't waste any more time if I were you."  Basil Ringrose reached into his still-spotless waistcoat, pulled out a small porcelain flask shaped like a skull, and tossed it gently to McCurdy....leaving him to drop either the pistol - or the flask of water, to try to catch the little flask.

De Vega did not move, but watched McCurdy keenly, as if curious what the man would do.  Sawney scratched his disorderly thatch of hair.

It was not a difficult decision which to drop in order to catch the elixir for Liza. The pistol was probably the most useless piece of equipment to use against this lot of lunatics. Besides, he had another if he needed it. McCurdy's hand relaxed and he let it fall to the ground as he adjusted to catch the skull. The detective caught it and looked at Ringrose squarely. His left hand held on to the waterskin as if it was a weapon.

"If it doesn't work. She won't be the only one that doesn't leave this place," he said, matter-of-fact. He had made up his mind what he was going to do, demons be damned.

Brother Clary swallowed (for the moment) the righteous indignation bubbling up within him like so much bile.  Blasphemy! he thought to himself.  He began looking all the more earnestly for any sign of the cross and his Bible.  As he looked, he took a curious glance at the odd-shaped shadows on the ground, changing as if through a monochrome kaleidescope.

Marianne smiled slightly at the challenge in McCurdy's voice as he spoke to Basil. How she had wanted to give that murdering bastard a piece of her mind when she had seen him standing so coolly on the other side of the fountain. But survival took precedence at the moment.

She approached the old man and spoke in low, urgent tones. "Mister- Sawney or De Leon, whichever name you go by - please help us, or we will be dead in a few minutes. The cross is our only hope. Do you know where Basil has hidden it?"

Brother Clary watched the shadows shift and change.  They
became one thing, then another - some hideous, some normal as
any shadow he'd ever seen.  Then he noticed something else; the
faint shadow of plump little Gula, dancing around the fountain
and waving at him, as much so as the gemlike dragonflies that
flittered around the area, as if it was some sort of game.
Perhaps, to her, it was.  He wanted the cross, and his bible;
it was clear that Basil didn't have the bible, for it would be
noticeable...which meant he must have left it somewhere.
Someone like Basil would be careful about such things, to be
sure....shy of searching Basil where he stood, there was no way
to be sure of where the Lupino cross might be.  But Basil
Ringrose was a person that liked to trick other people....and
Hornsby had implied there were rules that the pirate had to
follow...but not the three adventurers.

Marion edged up to the strange old man, who flashed her a
tentative smile.  "The mapmaker ?" he responded, in a soft
reedy voice, flicking his wandering eyes over at Basil, who was
still speaking to McCurdy.  "The mapmaker is a clever one,
Miss...I don't know where he would put it.  But I do know his
tree - it is the one by the Lady's left boot."

Jack McCurdy had never seen so cool a customer as Basil
Ringrose, who only smiled faintly at the threat.  McCurdy's
firearm lay on the ground, having clattered onto the stone with
a resounding echo.  "As you wish," he replied mildly.  The
little skull vial was in McCurdy's hand, and the other flask he
held contained the tears of Gula.  "But I should choose to
drink, if you wish to trifle with me, my lad.  You'll need all
the help you can get."
(GM: Is McCurdy going to drink, or not ?  Please decide with
your next post.)

From back on the path, there was a sound, someone struggling to
run with a very bad limp.  It seemed to be a man, dressed in
bloody rags, clutching a pistol, and he seemed to be hell-bent
on getting to the fountain.  He was too far away for his features to be clear.

The soft-spoken old man didn't seem mad in the least, nor was he even remotely like the Sawney and Ponce De Leon she had learned about in history. And he had left her with a riddle to solve, at the worst time. The lady's left boot? Was he referring to a statue of Gula? To the fountain? To the Baroness or Dr. Corazon?

"Would you point it out to me?" she asked, looking around her urgently for a tree that fit the description. "I don't know to which tree or lady you are referring."

If they could find the tree, they might have a chance of finding the cross and getting out of here alive. Would McCurdy drink? She desperately tried to catch McCurdy's and Brother Clary's gaze to indicate she had learned something that might be useful.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:13, Thu 27 July 2006.

McCurdy could not completely dismiss Ringrose. The man was a cool one alright, cool enough to frost the air around the detective. His thumb caressed the skull on the vial like the hammer of a pistol as he considered the man's words. To drink or not? Yeah, he was going to drink. He had decided a little while back that he would if ever given the chance. Not for the fleeting chance at glory or long life, but for people like Liza and Marianne and the Padre. Simple, Just people that were up against something far bigger than all of them. And he would drink so they wouldn't have to. Besides, there was a little voice inside his head yammering something about how he probably wouldn't be allowed to kill Ringrose once he did, so they would have to be the ones to do it while he kept him occupied.

But right then he was more worried about Liza and seeing that she was well before he was going to take a drink from this so-called fountain of youth. If something bad was about to happen to him, he wanted to know she was well before he committed himself.

McCurdy tilted his hat back on his head as he looked at Ringrose and smirked like he had just tasted something curiously sweet. "You'll get your chance. Hold onto your britches." He hefted the skull vial as if showing it to someone that had never seen it before. "I'm just gonna make sure this works before I do." He tucked the water flask in his belt and picked up his gun. Then a thought occurred to him and he looked at Basil again. "I think we both know what will happen to both of us if she don't get better..."

He winked at Ringrose and turned for Liza to give her the vial.

"There's only one lady wearing boots," Sawney replied softly to Marianne.  Dr. Corazon had already departed in search of her father, and Liza was wearing sandals, which left the haughty lady who had made certain she got a drink of the fountain.

Liza Waters had to be forced to drink, and McCurdy wasn't sure if the vial's contents were of any use.  She just sat there, staring off into space.  Then she coughed, her vapidly staring eyes shutting in a big wince.  "Oh that was nasty !"  she protested, sounding much more like the spunky little old lady they had known before.  That left McCurdy with the flask of water from the Fountain of Youth.  Every pair of eyes watched as he raised it to his lips.  It was warm as blood, but settled in his belly like the coolest of iced drinks; it was the freshest, purest water he had ever tasted, and then had a salt aftertaste that made it bittersweet.

The person who'd been approaching was now visible.  Bleeding, ragged and limping badly, it was the German pilot, Hans Gruber.  He was clutching a broomhandle Mauser and gasping for breath as he hurried toward the group of people at the fountain.  It was clear he had run afoul of something feisty in the jungle.  Sawney politely stepped aside to let him pass by; he nearly collapsed at the edge of the fountain, then looked around at the rest of the people there.  "Wos is matter with this water ?"  he asked, with sudden suspicion.
The woman who called herself a Countess...or whatever, according to Liza's memory, fired off a rapid comment in German to him.

"It's got a bit of a bite to it," McCurdy said casually as he put the stopper back in the flask and helped Liza to her feet. He didn't feel any different, then again he didn't figure he would either. Not right off. It felt good to wet his whistle anyway. It had been hot getting through the jungle.

"Glad to see yur alright, cousin." He smiled at Liza as if meeting an old friend he hadn't seen in a long while. He turned his attention to Horsnby then. "What about him?" he said, indicating Hawksmoore with a wave of the canteen in his direction. "What needs doin' to help him?"

The lanky Texas preacher wracked his simple brain for an answer to the challeneg he faced.  Soon, and very soon at that, he knew that whatever demons were present at this godless place would soon be unleashed, and that he new it would be up to him to stop them, somehow.  But how?

Then, he heard the still, small voice that had aided him so very often in the past:



Assured of the rightness of his cause, he moved forward, to face Ringrose eye-to-eye.  Holding his shotgun in a 'ready' position, he studied his adversary's face for a long while.  "Well," he began to drawl.  "Alls I want to know is 'why?'  Why'd ya try to stop us, when you knew we could git here anyways?  Why did poor Billie have to die?  Why'd ya take the Cross if'n ya had no plans t'use it?  And why aren't ya tryin' to stop us now?"

And just like that, McCurdy was one of them. Marianne glared at him as he took a swig from the canteen, but she supposed she couldn't blame him for being tempted. Eternal life, near invincibility... it was heady stuff. And now it was down to her and the preacher to find the cross and get out of here.

As the preacher pointed his shotgun at Basil, Marianne took advantage of the distraction to move toward the tree Sawney had indicated, machete by her side. Was this really Basil's tree as Sawney had said? Could she really cut it down and watch Basil die in front of her eyes? Would his death lead them to the cross or would it destroy their chance of ever finding it?

There were too many questions, and not enough time, never enough time. If Basil made one wrong move... she would have to cut it down. But she held her peace for the moment, waiting to hear Basil's answers to the preacher's questions. She had some of her own she would have liked to ask him, but she thought it best to keep his attention off her for the moment. As the preacher had said, Why?

Basil Ringrose had not survived for so long by chance.  He smiled a perfect, crisp smile in response to Brother Clary's query.  "Did you think that Gula is the only power at play ?" he asked in a perfectly calm and reasonable tone. "Only Hornsby and his cabin-boy seek to bring any of your ilk along to this place.  Ask them why."

Hornsby glanced down at Hawksmoore, who hadn't seemed to move at all, then looked away.  "Bide your time, Yank - you've plenty of it now.  All you need to do is to drain a drop of your blood onto the ground now, and the tree of your life will grow.  You will never age, and you cannot die, but every 40 years you must return here.  All the rest of it - I'll have to teach you later on.  "  There was some reason why Hornsby was not calling attention to Hawksmoore.

The German pilot, Hans Gruber, was asking a polite and cautious question of the Countess; Liza was frowning at some dirt on her dress, and sidling towards the fountain as if to wash with it.  "He hid it," she said, speaking to Brother Clary.  "He wouldn't have destroyed it, but he certainly would have hidden it.  If it is the only thing you can use as a weapon, when one of them turns into a demon, he wouldn't have wanted to be destroyed by it.  Or maybe he has plans for the demon.  Maybe endless life just isn't enough for him.  I know how he can be put to an inconvenience, though.  It's close, too, I'll wager - close indeed, and probably in the possession of someone else, because Basil likes to use people for his own ends."

With that, she scooped up a handful of the water, from the fountain, and immediately drank it.  "And you might well guess who's side I'm on, Basil," she said, eyes narrowing as she glared at him.  "At least now I'll be able to see my husband every 40 years, after you took him from me."  She pulled a pin from her hair, driving it into her palm, and let her blood drip onto the ground.  Immediately dusty green curls of a small shrub began to coil upwards, toward the changing light.  "If I should become what Basil wants so much - Marianne, I trust you will be quick to cut down this tree."

McCurdy turned away from Hornsby after hearing Liza's declaration and witnessing her revelation. He had clearly not expected such from her and it showed upon his face. He held out the water bottle to Hornsby and let go of it whether he took it or not. He tipped his hat back on his head and grinned. He had no idea why he was grinning.

He walked over to her side however, and just looked at her. He was still grinning. "Well, ain't you somethin'?" he said and looked at the stick pin in her hand. He seemed to have forgotten all about Ringrose and the others. "I reckon I need to do the same, don't I?"

He held out his hand as if expecting her to prick him. "I shouldn't be surprised, should I?"

Liza dropped the pin into his hand, with a nod, her jaw set and a steely smile on her face.  "I have gone round the world a few times, young man," she said, "But I have never seen enough of it.  I should say that the calibre of this company has improved, with our admittance."

Basil Ringrose then stepped towards the fountain, filling his canteen and drinking from it.  He then stepped towards the Countess, who moved aside for him, so that he could take a small penknife from his pocket, cut one finger, and feed the dusty-looking shrub there.

Hans Gruber looked at the fountain, and at the gathered company, weighing his options.  Then he shook his head, and limped away from the fountain.

McCurdy smiled at her and closed his hand around the pin, pricking his palm in the process. He removed the pin and then sqeezed his fist until he felt the blood running. "I reckon I'd be proud to have my tree settin' next to yours, cousin. If you don't mind, o'course."

He held his fist over the ground next to the flower she made and squeezed his blood free. He watched it hit the ground, wondering about the shadows he'd seen jumping from person to person. His eyes involuntarily drifted to the faint silhouette stretching from his feet.

Then he turned to look at everyone else. "So what are you all waiting for? Let's get this cocktail party rollin'."

Marianne was done with all of it. Things weren't getting any clearer, and all they were doing was wasting time going round in circles. "It's not going to be you," she told Basil with a sad smile, "But if you don't tell us where the cross is right now, you may never find out," she said. Her machete was poised to cut down Basil's tree. She was counting on McCurdy and the preacher to run interference if need be. She would give the murdering bastard exactly one second to start talking or she would start chopping.

McCurdy heard Marianne's ultimatum and sidled over in their direction. He pulled one of his gats free and held it against his chest, turning his aiming shoulder toward Basil. McCurdy didn't figure he could kill him, but he sure could knock him down. All Ringrose had to do was make a sudden rush for Marianne...

Basil Ringrose returned a sweet smile to Marianne.  "My dear, why would you suppose that ?  Do try though - I admire desperation.  It brings out the colour in your cheeks."

McCurdy's vision had skewed with each drop of his blood that hit the ground....the whole fountain was now a gushing torrent, and behind his thoughts he could hear the gentle weeping of a heartbroken woman, and the fluttering rush of wings.  The dull green leaves began to unfurl from the tough ground.  When he looked down at his feet, the shadow shifted, looking back at him more than anything else.  The sharp breeze with its hint of ice whispered to him....
But when he pulled out the gat to try to shoot at Basil, he also knew that there was no way he could fire it.  Despite all that he felt against the wretched Englishman, Basil was as much a part of this place as he now was...in essence, a brother.  His own trigger finger was refusing a command.

"Think, old woman, think," Liza was muttering to herself, looking around. "Basil wouldn't trust any of this lot, it must be someone else.  Who's around ?  HALLOOOOOO !"  she had cupped her hands to her mouth and was now calling for someone - anyone's attention.  "HELLOOOOO !  HOLA ! Is there anyone around here ?"

From somewhere back in the shifting shadows, there was a faint sound.

A few choice curses flashed in McCurdy's mind like a theatre marquis on Broadway. After his head cleared of course. Almost like spinning out of control, he thought as his hand lowered.

"There's the catch," he mumbled to himself and quit trying with the gun. "Another time and another place," he whispered to his .45 and then shifted his attention as Liza's call flushed a pidgeon. His gun was back up in a flash and pointing at the shadows.

Damn! Shit's makin' you jumpy, McCurdy.

"McCurdy!" The lanky Texas preacher was dumbfounded as he watched the man put his gun away.  "What's eatin' at ya?  We need to keep these varmints covered!"

Then he heard the sounds of distress from behind him.  He quickly moved to put the fat man between him and whatever might be coming their way.  He levered a shell into the chamber, ready in case he had to fire in a hurry.

All the while, his mind was racing trying to think through the recent developments.  First, they heard a shot in this clearing, but when they arrived, not a body to be seen.  Then Brother Clary, through the fog in his brain caused by  all of the strangeness he had encountered thus far, reasoned that Ringrose didn't have the Cross.  It had to be nearby, but where?  Did he hide it with someone?  But no one now present would be the likely candidates, so who?  That hombre that tried to impersonate the pirate?  But they left him for dead....

Now it looked like one of their own was refusing to fight, leaving the black-clad Texan and the redhead alone to face what was to come.

"There's always a catch, Jack dear, it's just a matter of our finding out how to put it to our advantage," Liza said in a low tone.  She shifted her position, listening intently for whatever might be coming along.  "It's got to be with someone....someone nearby."  She turned, and nearly bumped into a tall, lean, bald black man, wearing a ragged old white shirt and scruffy old breeches, sloppy leather boots hanging down to expose his bare knees.  A cutlass was jammed into a thick leather belt he wore - obviously, another pirate.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, Sir !"
"That's all right, Miss," the black man said gallantly, with a flashy bow. "What fashes ye so ?"
"We're missing someone," Liza said promptly. "Someone we need to find.  Did you see anyone on the path ?"
"A blond man, limping - and a man laying on the path, possibly dead." The black man responded courteously.  Liza nodded, and hurried off towards the way the man had come from.
"Miss Marianne - you and the good preacher are the only two who are not bound by the Code." Hornsby said, in a soft voice. "So long as you don't drink the water, you do not belong to Gula."

Marianne glared at Hornsby's typically pointless pronouncement. "Tell me something useful for once, will you," she snapped. "McCurdy, go help Liza find that bloody cross," she said as Liza took off on the trail of the missing pirate.

"Basil, you don't know how sorry I am to do this... But we're running out of time and you're not talking. Brother Clary, shoot the bastard." She swung the machete, burying the blade deep in the tree's trunk but trying not to sever it completely - yet. One way or another, it would all be over very soon.

McCurdy had already had it in mind to follow Liza. He hitched a step and started after her with only a slight glance at Ringrose.

McCurdy and Clary saw the smile, though Marianne did not - Basil Ringrose was indeed plotting something.  Hornsby's expression at Marianne's bile was unreadable - it was likely that he could not tell them anything more helpful.  Whatever power or control that the strange little goddess held over them - it included being helpful, for whatever reason.

Liza scooted back and forth along the path, standing on her tiptoes to look over thick ferns and shrubbery.  It seemed that the years did not sit very heavily upon her, even more so now than ever.  As she went, she chatted to McCurdy, "He must be hiding.  You'd think that - "

She was interrupted by a gunshot, that knocked her flat on her back, a red hole appearing by the first button of her pale blue dress.  Shock was writ large in her eyes, and blood spilled over her hand, clasped to the wound.

McCurdy reacted without thought. He started shooting with both guns that had somehow appeared in his hands, riddling the bush from which the shot came as if there were ten men on the other side and he had to hit all of them at least once with the fourteen bullets in his guns.

Brother Clary hesitated for a moment.  For all of the righteous indignation that had been building up inside of him for the entire journey, he was being instructed to gun down a man unprovoked, and all his experience screamed at him that this was somehow not right.

Then he heard the gunshot, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Liza go down, and McCurdy's guns begin to blaze at the hidden assailant.

"Father, forgive me," he breathed, and fired a shell at Ringrose, hoping to take him down quickly.

Then he wheeled around toward where he sensed the attack had come from, levering a new shell into the empty chamber.

McCurdy blasted the shrubbery, as Brother Clary fired off a shotgun shell at Basil Ringrose.  He then turned and raced towards where the little old lady was flat out on the ground, and McCurdy was looking for whomever he'd shot.  There was indeed a man in the bushes - now dead, one foot still twitching, the gun he'd used to shoot Liza falled from his grasp.  It was a local, from the look of him, a Hispanic-looking man in rough clothes and sandals, equipped with a Webley - a British gun.

Then Liza Waters sat up, blinking, and looked around with a small gasp.  "My goodness," she said, with faint surprise.  "I - I don't think it's so bad, really.  It does hurt...but I think I'm all right."  She started to scramble to her feet, turning back towards the fountain.  "I can't stay here," she said, to no one in particular, "It's pulling me back.  You have to find the cross, Brother Clary !"

McCurdy felt the same draw - his feet wanted to go in one direction now, back to the fountain, where something terrible would happen....that was the certainty of it, the horrible surety that one of the people at the Fountain would become a monster.....and it might be him.

Brother Clary realised that despite his hopes, Basil Ringrose would not be permanently damaged...and might not even be much inconvenienced by a shotgun blast.  There was still the cross to find - but where had that rat Ringrose hidden it ?

(GM: McCurdy, please roll a d20 on the die roller !  You do not want an 11, may I add !  To resist the pull for a minute of gametime, please roll d100 on the die roller; you need less than a 25%).

Arriving at the side of the dead man, the Texas preacher muttered a quick prayer as he held his shotgun on the prone figure.  Carefully reacing down while covering the native, he made for the pistol, intending to get it into his pocket.

Once he has secured the weapon, he began to search the man.  Where is that cross?  Maybe this feller had it....

McCurdy stared at the dead man for but a moment and a part of him didn't care what he was looking at. He didn't say anything to Brother Clary or anyone else. He just holstered his pistols, still staring at the dead man and steeled himself against everything. This was not turning out to be the best of days.

McCurdy casually turned on his heel as if nothing had happened and started back toward the fountain. He wasn't sure why he was going only that he needed to be there. Something was about to happen and he knew he needed to be there to see it...


<orange>I rolled a 2 of 20. And a 28 of 100. :) I hope this means I get to live a bit longer.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:39, Thu 28 Sept 2006.

McCurdy walked back to the fountain, a definite feeling of pulling speeding his steps.  Ahead of him, Liza walked, a fretful look on her face - but she was walking, even with a bullet in her chest.  At the fountain, the water was turning colours, shimmering like a rainbow, and flowing forth from the fountain.  It splashed over his boots, feeling warm, and flowed outward.  The small bushes shot upwards again as trees, all but his and Liza's.

Meanwhile, Brother Clary searched the body, and found the Lupino Cross, wrapped in a rag and hidden in the man's pocket.  As soon as he unwrapped it, the emerald in the centre was glowing, flashing almost like a pulse.  He looked back at the path, and saw the shadows - the ones that each of the near-immortals had, the ones that changed so much, diffusing upwards from their bodies as they stood by the fountain.  A large dragonfly buzzed past him, pausing to flicker in front of his face, then zipped away to the fountain.  He was only 50 yards away from the fountain.

Then it happened; Hornsby began to change.  He hunched over, his form growing, and elongating; his skin pebbled and turned to a yellow khaki, striped with dark grey, and his jaw burst forward, dagger-like teeth erupting from his gums.  The others reacted, almost all drawing weapons - except for Basil Ringrose.  He pulled out an amulet and a black obsidian dagger, and began to chant. Basil was also moving - heading straight towards Marianne, who was standing still watching the spectacle.   By the Hornsby-monster's feet, Hawksmoore rolled, right up to a fighting stance, and then leapt like a gazelle onto the monster's back.  It was clear that he intended to reach the head of the monster...but to kill it, or to guide it, that was another question.

McCurdy went for Marianne first thing, running full speed to get to her before Basil. Perhaps he could die, perhaps he couldn't. Perhaps Basil could attack him now, perhaps he couldn't. Whatever the case, McCurdy was sure Basil was going to kill her and that he could not have...

McCurdy dashed in front of Marianne, just in time to gain a nasty slash on the arm from Basil's knife.  The obsidian blade cut flesh like butter, and he saw his blood splashing to the ground even before the pain hit.  His hand was numb; he knew he couldn't trust it.   The crafty old rat Ringrose then shifted back, and grinned an evil grin.  "If I must go through you first," he said, and leapt forward, blade headed for McCurdy's throat.  (GM:  Please roll d100 for dodging, or for any other action you might wish to attempt !)

From the surprise on the next nearest person - the dark-haired woman, Basil's attack on McCurdy wasn't something expected.  But Liza Waters darted around the other side of the fountain, narrowly dodging the snapping jaws of the monster that had been Hornsby, to shout at Marianne, trying to reach her side without going past Basil.  "Marianne, run !  Run away from here !  It's not safe !"

Meanwhile, atop the monster's neck, Hawksmoore struggled to stay in control, even though he was being shaken like a rat by a terrier.

Brother Clary was easily within shooting distance....but he might hit McCurdy if he fired on Basil.

It was all happening so fast....

But relieved that he had found the cross, he wheeled around to face the scene.  While McCurdy had Ringrose occupied, The Texas Preacher felt that he might have some success helping Marianne away from immediate danger.

Holding the Cross out in front of him in his left hand, he held the shotgun in his right, cradling the muzzle against his left forearm, ready to face the dangers as they presented themselves.

As he shifted positions, his mind continued to race.  Whose tree did the redhead hack with the machete, if it wasn't Ringrose's?  If she got his, why didn't the shotgun blast affect him?  And where was Hornsby's tree, if it came to it?  Could they conceivably get all of the trees, and did they really want to?

He began to mutter a prayer:
Thou art my King, O God: command deliverances for Jacob.

Through thee will we push down our enemies: through thy name will we tread them under that rise up against us.

For I will not trust in my bow, neither shall my sword save me.

But thou hast saved us from our enemies, and hast put them to shame that hated us.

In God we boast all the day long, and praise thy name for ever. Selah.
(Psalm 44:4-8, KJV)

McCurdy fell down, kicked, and rolled. He knew he was outmatched in quickness and strength, but perhaps not guile. Ringrose thought himself superior, McCurdy could use that to his advantage. So he fell back as Ringrose leaped at him and kicked up at the right moment to send the man flying through the air over him...

Hopefully...  I rolled a 91. Hope high is good, but I don't think it is. :(  This should be interesting. ;P

Marianne was shaken out of her paralyzing doubts at the sight of Basil Ringrose with a knife in his hand coming towards her. Liza's warning rang in her ears, but there was nowhere to run where they wouldn't be caught and no one whom they could trust except for themselves. She raised the machete and swung as hard as she could, splintering the tree. As she did so, she prayed desperately that she had gotten the right one, for all of their sakes.

The cross in Brother Clary's hand pulsed like a heart, sending out surges of brilliant green light from the emerald set in it, as he spoke the cadence of the prayer.   The heavy, horribly toothy head of the monster swung towards him, and it snorted, sending a gust of hot breath into his face, as Hawksmoore struggled in vain to turn it.

McCurdy's move surprised Basil, who growled in irritation and slashed at McCurdy as he leapt past, trying to get to Marianne.  McCurdy tried to trip him on the way past but the wily old man was too fast, and now blood was obscuring his vision from a cut on the forehead.  Liza darted forward, to try to grab Basil's knife hand, but was slapped aside.

Marianne sliced at the small tree, trying to chop it down with Hawksmoore's old machete.  The finely honed blade cut the bush off at the root, with a jarring shock to her arm, and Basil Ringrose flinched.

And then Gula was there, standing before Basil, a radiant cloak of dragonfly wings wrapped around her, a crown of parrot feathers on her head.  He stopped, glaring at her, and spoke a terrible word that resounded with the fires of hell, in a language that shivered bones in flesh and wrought a bellow from the beast that had been Hornsby.  Gula's feathers and cloak stirred from it, but she did not move.

"The tree of your life is cut down, Master Ringrose," she said. "You will not have your sacrifice today.  Instead, I will spare Captain Hornsby - and take you, instead."  She reached out to the beast, which obediently lowered its head to rest its nose in her palm.  The body shivered, tumbling Hawksmoore into the fountain with a loud splash, and then Hornsby, his clothes ragged, slumped down onto the paving stones, and Basil Ringrose's body thrashed and grew, becoming a monster with brilliant red eyes, fangs and lethal claws; it turned and raced off, with a hostile glare at Gula - even in defeat, Basil Ringrose wasn't done yet.  Gula smiled indulgently, and turned to look at Brother Clary.  "A man of faith, even if it is not for me, is always welcome," she said. "I could not defeat an attack alone; I must have help, even if it is not worship for me, myself.  I thank you, and ask that you keep the Lupino Cross, holy man.  May it light up dark places, and drive out evil, as it was made to do."

"And you, Jack McCurdy, and Liza Waters," Gula said next, with an indulgent smile.  Almost immediately, Jack McCurdy felt the wounds bind and heal.  "You are the newest of my children, who will see the world in new ways, and know that there are old powers in it.  I give McCurdy the gift of the air, that he will ever know his way in it, and Liza the gift of the fire, for her heart is fierce with it.  Welcome, my children."

She turned to Marianne next.  "You could have had youth, Marianne, for ages of man, and never know death until the end of the world, young lady.  Yet you chose to remain apart, for only those who had not drunk from the fountain could act against an attack upon me.  It was a brave choice and I respect it.  If you will tell me what you wish, I will try to grant it for you."

McCurdy felt as numb as a newborn just before waking. And when he finally woke he still felt numb. Even as Gula spoke to him he was trying to grasp all that had just happened. While it was happening, he hadn't had time to think, he just reacted; he let his instincts take him where they would. But now... now it was pounding into him like a hydraulic jackhammer. And for the first time in his life, he wanted a drink. Really wanted a drink!

It was all he could do to keep standing. He didn't even realize he was staring after what used to be Ringrose as if he could still see it.

Brother Clary nodded slightly.  With an embarrassed air in his voice, he mumbled "I still would like to find my Bible...."

Gula laughed, a delightedly warm sound, like the bubbling of a clear brook in the sunshine.  "Your book of words, holy man, I know of it.  I have seen such books, and there is much good advice in them, and many stories to ponder.  It rests in the bag that Basil Ringrose brought here, and is hidden in a small valley that way."  She waved a plump hand in the direction.  "You all may depart this place, unless you wish to petition me on a specific matter; and I will hear Miss Marianne's wish, should she give it today or ten years from today.  Go in happiness, my children.  Become better than you are."

And with another happy laugh, she burst apart into motes of sunlight and gemlike dragonflies, soaring off on the warm breeze.

"A toast, then !"  Hornsby declared, his voice hoarse.

Hawksmoore staggered dripping wet from the fountain, offering up a sly grin. "We chose well," he said, and accepted a bottle of what looked like rum from the dark-skinned pirate, and drank a good swallow from it before passing it on to Hornsby.

"I mind me how close I came to't," said Hornsby, straightening his black eyepatch, "And I'm glad of the turnout.  Brother Clary, Miss, we'll take you out as safely as we know how, and convey you to the coast.  If you're in need of travelling funds, give us some time to pick up some more emeralds and some of our loot."

"You always were a lucky one, Jack," the black pirate said, with a laugh, taking the bottle to swig from it next, then handing it to McCurdy.  "Though tis women and preachers that were a trouble to you, and now a boon."

Others were leaving the fountain now; the haughty dark-haired woman first of all, then the shaggy and befuddled-looking Sawney, and then the sneakily grinning de Vega.  The German who was wearing a Blue Max, in addition to his other medals, was surveying McCurdy thoughtfully...and then saluted him, before striding away into the jungle.

McCurdy dropped the bottle from his lips and sighed as the warmth of the rum ran down to his gullet. It was a welcome burning that began to warm his whole body like a glaze. When the rum hit his senses he at least still had enough of them left to return the German's salute. Enemies not so long ago...

He blinked and turned back to the two pirates. He really didn't know what to say. His head was still swimming laps in a pool of mud and it wasn't because of the rum.

"I reckon it'd be mighty kind of someone to tell me what the hell I've just gone and done..."

Marianne carefully tied the machete to her waist - they would need it for the return trip back, no doubt - and shook out the tingles in her arm. They had actually won! Basil was gone and Hornsby was back among the living for another 40 years at least.

"Captain, it's good to have you back. How about a few straight answers to my questions this time?" she asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

"What will happen to Basil now?"

As the party begins to return to the 'normal' world, Brother Clary takes one last, thoughtful look at the fountain.  Then with a prayer of thanks, he turns again and begins the journey down the path, deviating only to find Ringrose's bag containing his beloved Bible.