Unable to help Dlarumei but still offering the aid of his arm, he proceeds forward to the corner.

"We must take stock of everything that we now have.  I suspect that we are cut off by design.  By passing this far, then our right to be here is likely taken for granted.  Most of my equipment was with my slaves."

Shih withdraws the special artifact of Sarku given him so very long ago by the Ritual High Priest.  He also looks through his different pouches.  Most of the things he has are appropriate to casting spells and, of course, his chlen sword. How utterly useless.

OOC: Is anything useful.  Most of the 'special' items remain with the rest of the party.  Am I pleasantly surprised to find anything?

Ssrivan is lost in thought for the moment as he scrapes his finger against the surface of the wall and examines it.

Shih stands and, in a quite proper and polite manner, helps to raise Dlarumei to her feet. He notices Ssrivan scratching the wall and sees a fine green colored powder drift downward.  Following the powder with his eyes he notes that it lands softly in the small of a tender young woman’s back.  The scribe did make it through and found herself under the sprawl of Ssrivan’s robes, how interesting Shih ponders.  He then begins to move to the area where the hallway takes a corner. He picks an arbitrary direction title for the directions he is traveling in and calls it North, not know which way North truly is does not matter in the hallway beneath the surface, but it will help him to orient himself and the others as they move. The shuffling of their feet and their heavy breathing is all that is heard in the hallway.  The air seems think and moist making the trip seem slow and long.  About half way to the bend in the hallway, approx 100 meters, Shih notices a line in the sand.  More of a linear elevation than a line really, as though something is buried under the sand and causes it to rise a bit. About 100 more metes forward and the hallway turns to the East.

Shih eyes Ssrivan's scribe with mixed feelings.  Unless she too has gone through a change, she will need food and water.  It certainly lends urgency to our pace.

As they progress, Shih suddenly stops and points, saying, "Ssrivan, there is a line there in the sand."

Dlarumei leans hard into Shih as a wave of pain comes over her. “It looks like an object dropped there and forgotten.  Time has hidden it.” She kicks a bit at it, misses it but moves more sand over it.

Ssrivan will start and look to the point in the sand indicated by Shih and Dlarumei.

"Please wait a moment and I will try to bring it to light for you."

He will then motion to his scribe to stay put and will move closer to the line in the sand to see if he can carefully scoop some of the sands away without disturbing the object itself.  Scooping the nearby sands should allow some to flow into the depression he creates and slowly expose the object.

The sand moves slowly as Ssrivan beckons it to fall away from the buried object into the depression he creates along side the line. Patiently he moves with precision, making way for the sand that covers the object to fall away but being very careful not to undermine the object as to make it shift or roll. After several moments, moments which seem to Dlarumei and Shih to last a life time, a fine feather edge peek out of the top of the sand, followed by a green glint that winks in the emerald light.

On the other side or ceiling, are there corresponding glints or any kind?

Shih set Dlarumei down against the wall where she focuses on what Ssrivan is doing. This is when Shih starts looking about the area.  Trying to figure out trajectory and angle of possible fragments and where they may have wound up. There are some very heavy gouges in the walls around this area and one is so deep that Shih can see though the vainer to the sub structure of the wall.

“Iron!” he spits “We are incased in Iron! The sub wall is made of metal and probably surrounds us on walls, ceiling and floor.” He then mumbles some more choice words, half to himself and half for whomever cares to listen.

Searching diligently he does find a fragment of the sword in the wall.  Buried deep in the plaster the tiny point pokes out and Shih realizes what a weapon of this magnitude would mean in this environment.  As his finger approaches the fragment he feels a tingle of sorts.  Ssrivan continues to uncover more of the sword under Dlarumei’s watchful eyes.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:46, Tue 07 Oct 2008.

"Shih, be careful of any fragments from this blade that you find.  I am sure there are several small bits around here, along with the hilt.  The blade itself is nearly complete, with the tip and several small shards missing from the end.  It looks like the tangs broke off right at the hilt.  It is unbelievably thin and sharp, with a set of what appear to be runes engraved into the channel of the blade."

He looks up to make sure his scribe is faithfully recording what he says before he continues.

"It exudes force, which indicates it is an item of unbelievable power if it can be felt in this place.  I have never seen nor heard of its like.  The pieces might even spontaneously reconnect if brought together.  I have also found the remains of a very interesting hand here.  It seems the owner was not quite like us, as there is an extra finger on it.  It has a rune-carved metal ring and an amber-hued stone bracelet around the wrist.  It looks like the hand may have been lost by one of the combatants in the fight that shattered this sword.  The runes may even tell us if the items are of the same making, since two of the three items seem to have them."

Ssrivan will then bend close to the blade and then the ring to see if he can make any sense of the runes.

Memory intact, Shih too examines the runes to see if he understands them ...

"This place is designed to prevent individuals from using energy or weapons.  I am now conscious of directives ... concepts ... to some greater mind.  Something inside of us answers.  I could feel it.  This is how I ... we ... can heal and do what we do.  But, not here.  Here, we are cut off.  I suspect that we are not meant to use such things here.  Whoever brought weapons here was cut down.  While the weapon was likely that of one of the beings we called gods, the power here was greater.  It was destroyed."

"We have here a treasure that merits saving.  However, we cannot let it assemble beyond this point.  Bringing pieces beyond this point, but separate, would be a way that we can leave with this treasure.  If we let it assemble, we cannot get it out."

"Then no one dare carry more than one large piece of it Shih--and as my scribe is the only one of us for whom large amounts of metal are not baneful, she will have to carry the bulk of the blade once we are sure it is safe to remove from this place.  Even this broken bit may be sufficient to trigger the defenses of this place when we lift it.  Maybe it needs to be covered up like a normal object instead of being brandished as a weapon.  I suspect it would be safe for one of us to carry two of the smaller shards, as otherwise there will be at least one more piece than there are possible carriers. The hand will be a lesser problem.  I can carry that until there is time for me to investigate it."

"I suspect that hand and bracelet, to have survived, are possibly part of this weapon.  Perhaps that hand can call this weapon to it.  Given the nature of the weapon, absence of a scabbard argues for this  As to carrying too much metal, I doubt that that will be an issue for us here.  I believe we are done with casting.  Besides, the sword and hand are aligned; they should not hurt us were we to cast while holding them.  I agree though that whatever we take must be covered and not held offensively."

Shih will back away, place his chlen sword on the ground, and drop the proffered shard gently into its place.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:57, Fri 10 Oct 2008.

Dlarmuei cocks her head a bit to the left, a trait that you have noticed with her when she is thinking; she winces in pain and says, with a bit of urgency in her voice.
“I am glad that the two of you have so many ideals and notions to talk about, but I would dearly suggest that we start moving along the way.”

You can tell that she is not used to pain as it is clearly affecting her abilities to speak and to reason. “Stuff the stupid thing in a bag and let’s get moving!”

The irritability in her voice and body language is apparent and she even begins to shuffle off further down the hallway, but only a few feet before she realizes that she will not be going far without support from the rest.

Somewhere further off down the hallway the sound of a large door or gate or stone blockade like the one recently thrust down behind you moves.  And with an earth vibrating resonance comes to rest heavily into place.

Shih finds the tip of the sword and another small shard stuck into the wall along with several crumb-like metal pieces stuck like seasoning on the plaster surface. Moving the tip he found past the crumb-like remains attracts them like iron to a magnet. Ssrivan’s excavation of the sword and bracelet wearing bones is quickened by Dlarumei’s demeanor; though his scientific self tries not to hurry his rational side subconsciously picks up the pace.

So, to make a long story short, using shards as magnets, we pull the weapon together in three sections, examining it carefully for small missing shards.  Stashing the three away, along with the hand/bracelet, we proceed carefully forward.

Shih moves to help Dlarumei while Ssrivan takes his customary position.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:29, Wed 22 Oct 2008.

The pieces of the sword do have a rather odd and powerful magnetic quality.  In fact, you find it hard to keep the entire sword from reassembling itself. You feel confident in your decision not to allow it to become whole at this point and even with some pieces in the bottom of your scabbard you feel the draw the metal has towards itself.

Moving on further down the hallway you travel 100 feet to a right turn in the hall.  Noting else changes, not structure, texture of walls, colors of light or senses of the air.  Peering around the corner you notice that the hallway continues on for approx 150 feet and then, through an arched and door-less opening and into a chamber with a center structure of some sort.  It is too hard to tell what the structure is from this distance but it about fountain height without the finery. Another observance is that the color of the illumination in that room is blue and not green like in the hallway that leads to the chamber.

“Well at least there is something comforting in the color of our new destination.”  Dlarumei says under her breath, “a glimmer of godliness in this trap.”

In an even tone, Shih thinks a bit out loud ...

"Imagine you are a God and know this area to be protected from any and all weapons.  There is an overaching consciousness that puts all beings on an equal footing here.  However, you are in a life-or-death struggle ... a game of den-den ... against others of your kind.  There are very few rules.  This place is either agreed to be a safe haven or, alternately, so critical to the operation of the game that beings cannot be allowed here with the capabilities to harm it."

"Now, you have been engaged in this game for eons, seen many killed or go insane. Your consciousness trapped in the game until some pre-defined conditions for winning are met.  You dispair of this ever occurring; it has been too long.  Your solution is to end the game by destroying the intelligence imposing the rules on the game.  So, you create a ru'un and a special weapon.  The most powerful weapon conceivable.  Something that can literally remake itself if the game destroys it.  An intelligence like the game's intelligence.  Self-powered.  Because of the nature of the weapon, the game intelligence is tricked somehow into literally doing your work for you by bringing the weapon back together ... repairing it as it would repair itself."

"At the Dormoron Plains, each god had one special weapon that could literally be used to kill any of the other gods.  This sword is one such.  Its owner could be long dead."

"You move your ru'un into position where it and the weapon are destroyed.  This is expected; it is a test.  You knew it would occur, but not exactly where.  All you need now do is go retrieve the shards of the weapon, move forward sufficiently to a place where game rules no longer apply, and then let the weapon reassemble.  With a well-placed stroke, you can end the game and find peace.  However, the others somehow stop you from completing your plan and destroying everything.  And the sword is as we found it."

"This place should not have dust.  What little dust it might have, to now be so deep, speaks of tens of thousands of years passage.  The game continues.  Should we try to end it?  With a stroke of that weapon, we could destroy everyone we hold dear."

"Another alternative is that there are such places as this for each of the game players and someone really wanted to kill one of the others at all costs."

"We must be careful about whether we allow that sword to ever re-assemble.  And if yes, it cannot be in this place."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:36, Mon 27 Oct 2008.

Shih grumbles at the oppressive silence moving carefully towards the blue room. He is careful to make sure that there is nothing obviously sleeping in there before entering.

Ssrivan takes in the details of the room ahead, thinking back to the previous fountains on the path to this place and musing on what he might find this time.

Some otherworldly barrier seems to press upon him, limiting his progress towards the blue room ahead.  Looking at his companions, it's unclear whether they are experiencing the same phenomena, but their lack of forward motion aligns with his own.  Are they as aware as he of their lack of progress?  Could it be some secondary effect of the weapon shards that they now each bear?  Strangely, his tongue cleaves to the roof of his mouth rendering him speechless.

The effect is all too common, one might think, innocents move where delights fear to tread.  However, there is a compulsion the keeps pulling you forward, deeper and deeper into that which you know is strange and foreboding. While the draw of the blue light seems to compel you to move forward, that and the fact that you really have no other direction to travel in, the sword fragments seem to want to elevate and ascend rather than progress forward.  It is not a trial to keep them where you wish for them to be, but you do notice their desire and take note of it. The blue room, however, not the Blue Room that Dlarumei may have hoped for, is very large.  A monolithic fountain stands rough hewn and dry at it’s center, and around the room, approximately four feet in from the rooms outer wall, is a row of benches that surround the center structure in a circular fashion. The light that creates the blue illuminessence seems to come from the top of the fountain structure. There are small pieces of objects strewn about the room as though simply tossed there at random.

"That was quite strange, did you sense it?"  Moving forward into the blue-lit room, he approaches the nearest bit of litter and examines it without touching it.  More exploded ordinance just awaiting the opportunity to reassemble?

OOC: Hmmmm, a torn ticket stub with a clearly marked "E" to something called the Tekumel Ride of Terror. /OOC

Sung to the tune of “ My Favorite Things” from the sound of music.

A stone plate and a cup, segmented and worn,

Two tubes that held parchment lie crinkled and torn

A worn out old sack fallen apart till it’s only string

These are a few of the strewn about things

If you wander

A bit further

You start feeling sad

It’s all the possessions of an unlucky guy, whose tragic life ends… real bad.

As you make your way around the fountain the rather meaningless contents of the sack become fragments of bone and pieces of old armor. Shredded as though torn apart by a savage beast.  The bones are gnawed upon, or so it would seem under closer examination and the skull is crushed in it’s spot nestled up against one of the bench legs.