Black moss creeps along the walls, glistening wet, and in one collapsed stretch of passage, a bootprint appears fresh in the mud, though no sound precedes or follows it. Fungal blooms emerge from fissures in the ceiling, some glowing faintly, others twitching when approached. A narrow side passage ends in a mirror-smooth slab of gold too wide to pass–its surface faintly warm, and within it, a warped reflection that smiles before the viewer does. Claw marks score the walls in long, deliberate patterns, often circling faded murals that show men dissolving into beasts, or beasts donning human skin. In one chamber, water drips endlessly into a deep, oil-dark shaft; dropped stones make no sound when they strike below.

It is about 65/i>/span18C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Elm and Lake/span>/span“You’re overdue to come meet me for a library tour,” Thomas tells Lola — but then they are here. He looks around the tunnels. “I’ve been in this section before,” he tells everyone. “But according to my notes, there is a passage that leads off here,” he says. “This main route goes to the grand plaza, but it’s been picked over.”

There is an unsettling stillness to these tunnels: they smell and feel alive, with moss and other jungle plants. Even though there’s no light, many of the plants seem to be alive.

As they come out of the tunnel and into a more open space Matias rolls his shoulders and tucks both his hands into his jean pockets even as Lola declares she is being bullied. There is a quiet chuckle as he observes, “Hardly. If board games made their way into the Fae wilds, then its safe to assume remote tribes on earth collected games from doomed expeditions. How do you think the games got to the Other?”

Preston emerges from the crawling(?) event, grumbling at the fact he may or may not have almost gotten stuck. As soon as he’s out, his pistol is raised, scanning the tunnels in front of him – eyes peeled and alert. Once it seems the coast is clear he turns, offering a hand to whoever is coming out behind him, and help them out and up, should they wish it.

“Oh, I don’t know… Trade…?” Lola wonders to Matias, though she does glance over her shoulder at Thomas, as though suddenly remembering that she’s upset with him as well- now she’s sticking close to Matias all over again. “I have /tried/ to meet with you a few times, but you are always far too busy! So I had given up,” she reveals, fingers slightly dancing upwards to touch, just featherlight, the petals of the lily flowers braided in her hair. They’re in hues of lavender and midnight blue and pearly white, five in total, and their vines are worked lovingly into her braid. Eventually, however, she turns straight ahead again, looking around for: “… Sera?”

“I know,” Thomas tells Lola. “We’ll make a point of it.” He pauses, looking. “Where is she?” he asks — there’s a little panic in his voice, twisting around.

“Kidnapped pieces and players for games. Likely never to return.” Matias informs Lola and then there is a look around for the tomb raider dressed assistant. “Preston did you see if something grabbed her?”

Preston grunts and glances backwards. “How did she..” running a gloved hand over his face, “No, I was in front,” he explains to Matias. “All of you were in behind.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Thomas tells Matias.

Is that the distant roar of a jaguar down the tunnel? It’s hard to say. The glyphs scribed in the walls seem to be almost animated; it’s as if they move, just out of people’s sights.

“Sera!” Lola calls out loudly, rather suddenly and likely against recommendation as she hears that jaguar roaring in the distance. “Sera!! Where are you? Come back!” she calls, cupping her hands around her mouth and causing her voice to echo.

Matias pulls out his coin and comments, “I can scry her.”

“And what?” Thomas asks Matias. “See her in some strange tunnel?” he asks, his eyes full of low frustration. One might detect a level of discontentment in him. “I realy upon Miss Hawke,” he complains, really to anyone.

“First things first,” Preston begins, breathing out a breath. “We need to calm down, just a bit. Getting frustrated or scared isn’t going to help us find her.” Eyes scan down the passage way, towards the roaring. “There might be something up ahead there, let’s just chill for a second, re-focus on the goal. Sera can handle herself for a little bit. I’m one hundred percent sure she is fine, and alright.”

“Assuming she is freed and wandering, I can also lure her. She would just naturally find her way back to us, but it could take quite awhile depending how far afield she has vanished.” Matias says without missing a beat at Thomas shooting down the initial idea. When Lola begins calling out there is a look towards Preston and a hushed brazilian accented inquiry, “Do you have bullets that hit ghosts?”

“Down these tunnels,” Thomas tells Matias, “I’d be worried your lure would lead her into something worse along the way.” He pauses, frowning. “Maybe she got ahead of us,” he says. “She has access to the same resources I have,” he admits. “Somewhere up here… there should be a passage.” Of course, without someone’ light in the darkness, it isn’t anywhere near as ideal.

“Down these tunnels,” Thomas tells Matias, “I’d be worried your lure would lead her into something worse along the way.” He pauses, frowning. “Maybe she got ahead of us,” he says. “She has access to the same resources I have,” he admits. “Somewhere up here… there should be a passage.” Of course, without Seraphina’s light in the darkness, it isn’t anywhere near as ideal.

“No,” Preston easily mentions to Matias. “I do not. I mentioned this to Thomas already,” despite that fact, he does flick the safety of his carbine off – just in case he needs to.. well, shoot at the ghosts. “I don’t carry anything on me for ghostbusting.”

“I can see in the dark- but maybe she’s still on the ladder. We could have gotten separated coming down,” Lola offers to Thomas as she stares upwards, squinting her eyes. “Sera!! Are you up there? If you fall, I’ll probably try to catch you!” she insists, then huffs out a breath and puts her hands on her hips indignantly. “Don’t leave me down here with all these boys! There’s too many for just me! I’m gonna touch a butt!!” she warns, as though that will make the woman appear faster.

“Ghost jaguars could me an a lot of things,” Thomas shares with Lola, Preston and Matias. “Some stories say that there were pale white jaguars, sacred to the gods of the dead.” He pauses. “The stories suggest they fed upon the unworthy, so I don’t think they were terribly insubstantial.”

Drip, drip, drip. The smell of the tunnels is like orchids, wetness — and the distant undertone of rot.

Matias points back at the tunnel which is narrower than the wide one they had come through. “She is not on ladder or climb, she was definitely in tunnel with us. Most likely something happened and she came out in different spot like… When you turn in a fae forest and the person behind you has been waiting a week.” he explains before nodding to Preston, “Have flashlight to take point and we can keep going see if she is ahead?”

Rummaging around on a pocket of his pants, Preston pulls a flashlight out, flicking it on. Hands crossed over each other in front of him, he nods at the group.

The librarian pulls a pistol: about the best that he has, really, holding it loose down by his side. Thomas looks ahead. “Is there a tunnel there, Blackwell? Up to the northwest?” he wonders. “That’s where my sources say it should be.”

Preston shines the flashlight down the walls of the tunnel, then along the floor towards the northwest, “Looks to be, yeah.” Pointing the way with the flashlight.

Matias steps in front and to the right of Lola putting her between himself and Preston

“I see a tunnel too!” Lola announces proudly as she is used as a meat shield, or maybe a buffer? Is she being protected? She makes no comment on Matias’ maneuvering, but she turns back towards the ladder and announces: “Okay, Sera! If you don’t come down soon I’m gonna touch- AHH!!” Well, there Seraphina is, and Lola has nearly lept out of her skin in the process of finding her.

Spilling out from some passage that the others did not use, but not as cool as sliding down a waterfall like some character from Goonies, Seraphina ends up curling her body to ease the brunt of the force, and do a tumble until she stands. She looks a little worse for the wear, clothing a bit … damp. And muddy.

Seraphina flips her hair back and out of her face, strings clumped together with mud. “Took a wrong turn.” She tells Thomas then, hands on her hips, “Next time you are leading so we don’t go down the wrong passage.” She stomps her foot a little at this too.

When Seraphina emerges, Thomas crosses to her, surprisingly quickly — and then wraps her in some hug. It’s a moment, and then he breaks away. “How’s that passage looking?” he asks Preston, perhaps to cover his rush to his assistant.

Seraphina lowers her arms from her hands-on-the-hip scold when she is scooped up into a hug, turning her gaze to Lola, “Touch …. what?”

Preston has been looking ahead for most of this, and is now only glancing over his shoulder when he hears Lola scream, the pistol is swiveled that way, though, he’s well trained enough to not have the muzzle aimed at anyone. It’s pointed towards the floor, just sweeping in their direction. “Oh,” Preston breathes out when he spots a muddy Seraphina. “Welcome back, Sera,” flashing her a warm smile. It seems he wants to go over and hug her, but he’s got a job to do for the moment, and he’s sweeping his attentions back to the passage. “It’s looking clear, Thomas.”

With a nod, Thomas indicates for Preston to lead the way. The narrow fissure here seems to open up into a side passage, and the sense and smell of vegetation here grows stronger. Before, there were signs of other delves past — discarded Kit Kat wrappers, bullet casings, bootprints — but this passage seems different, untouched. Where before it was drip-drip silence, now the tunnel seems far more alive, with some green light spilling out from somewhere above.

“I… I’m gonna touch… Touch a butt…” Lola says breathlessly to Seraphina, clutching her chest and trying to catch her breath from her fright, eyes all wide with fear as she stumbles along. At the very least she keeps her voice low, careful not to draw attention to the group as she hangs back slightly, lingering by Matias as they all walk along.

“Are you imagining that Seraphina would not want you to touch a butt or would want you to touch her butt or?” Matias inquires as the group lets Preston clear ahead and only after a pause follows along. The latino man has a gun in one hand and a saint minted coin in the other.

Up ahead, it sounds like there is the echo of some growling animal from down the length of the tunnel.

Seraphina rubs at her chin, wiping away a little blood that seems to have come from a scrape that is not bleeding any more. There is a sincere, “Sorry to have frightened you,” toward Lola, “But I ended up in Camelot and had to jump into a tunnel hoping it would lead me here, after being chased by what I can only assume to be a dragon.” Exciting, no doubt, but if any other explanation is to come, it is cut off by the growl. She pulls a long, ornate, broad sword from a bag, holding onto the hilt with both hands.

Thomas looks ahead at Seraphina. “A dragon?” he asks, distracted by some new and interesting curiosity. “Really?” Something sparks in his eyes, only to have the growling draw his attention. “I’m sure it’s just atmosphere,” he says. “We’ll be fine.”

Seraphina snorts at Thomas, making her way toward Preston with her sword in hand, “Yeah, yeah, Mister Hale. You said that last time, and I we got attacked by enchanted armor.”

That gets a snort from Preston at this. “Don’t forget the time before that, where the Iberian was actually there, mm?”

“Think about everything we learned, though!” Thomas tells Preston and Seraphina. “No knowledge without risk,” he says, well behind the people with guns and sword who do the actual risking. “Is the tunnel opening up up there?” he asks. “Let’s keep moving before it stops being just atmosphere.”

Seraphina glances down at Preston’s pants a moment, and then nods. “He was definitely fleshformed.” But beyond the banter, she looks back at Thomas, smiles, then to Lola and Matias, “Be on your toes!”

There’s a curious tilting of his head towards Seraphina at that, frowning just slightly before Preston’s walking forward. “It opens up, come along.” Flicking his flashlight off, and hoping Seraphina is going to light the way now, he can bring out more firepower – his carbine. Slipping his handgun and flashlight into his belt.

“Huh? Why would they fleshform it so normal-looking?” Lola asks Seraphina confusedly, as though all fleshforming must be mass, exciting, and eye-catching. She blinks, then shrugs, then gets up on her toes obediently- standing en pointe, albeit with quite a bit of wobbling about. “I… I don’t think this will work,” she murmurs, carefully and gently lowering herself back down to her heels.

Seraphina blinks at Lola. “Who?”

When Seraphina comments on the fleshforming Matias provides context for Lola as they progress further and close to the potential dangerous of the growls and other noises. “The Iberian was a spainish sorceror and arcanist which had a grimoire that the Endless Library want recovered. Seraphina happened upon him in a state of undress.”

Matias says “Evidently even possessing access to true magics, fleshforming his manhood ranked as something worth doing. Unimaginative really.“

Seraphina corrects Matias, “Is. I imagine he will be coming for the book at some point.”

As the party emerges into the ‘light’, it’s hard frankly to see where it is coming from. Somewhere overhead there is the roof of a cavern, hanging with vines, but there is a quality to the light like twilight. Mist swirls around the cavern, which is choked with jungle: too much with jungle, perhaps. For those here with natural magic, this place is all wrong: it has way, way too much life for a place without the sun.

Tilts her head at Seraphina, then points at Preston, looking confused and saying: “… His penis… Right…?” Though Matias clarifies the situation, and Lola’s mouth opens wide with surprise- and then her face turns red, and she says, “The… The Iberian’s penis. Yes, right, that’s… That’s what I was t-t-t-talking abo-abo-abo-abo-ab-b-b-b-about. Yes. Yes, that. It’s so humid down here- is it humid down here? I… I’m sweating. I think I’m going to be quiet from now on.

As the group comes upon a thriving almost excessive vibrant jungle with mists and a twilight light from above Matias comments, “It is actually hot and humid, yes.” then makes a bit of a face. “Magical currents… Self sustaining, I think. That is why it feels so oppressive. Is like massive ritual constantly cycling.” he theorizes with perhaps more confidence than is warranted to explain what arcanists in the party might be experiencing.

“Its okay,” Seraphina says to Lola when she calls out Preston and his normal penis. She has her lips parted to say more at the woman’s embarrassment, but then there is a draw, something. Calling. The raven-haired explorer heeds the call, and begins to wander out, moving past Preston on light and quick feet.

“Hey, Lola?” Preston asks, turning his head to glance over at his shoulder. “Is it possible you silence your phone?” One hand held on his carbine that’s strapped over his chest, another lifts a finger in the air, spinning it in a circle. “Don’t want sudden noises out here.” It’s not an order, it’s not a command. It’s a question.

Once Seraphina begins to wander off, Preston glances back, and just follows her, shaking his head at her.

A flock of birds burst from the undergrowth, immediately next to Preston. They are multi-colored and shocking.

The flock of birds flying out from brush do startle Seraphina, and her path northward is halted with an “EEEEEeeeeeEEEE!” escaping her lips. And a cover of her head to avoid getting wings in her face, or beaks.

“S-Sorry,” Lola says, keeping her words short now that she’s talked herself into a hole, red in the face and just trying to forget she’d spoken at all during this outing. Unfortunately Seraphina won’t permit that, because as the woman starts to run off, Lola cups her hands around her mouth and starts to yell: “S-SERA-” only to hushedly retry, Preston having asked her to be silent- and she turns her phone to vibrate, too! “Seraphina, wait!” she stage-whispers.

Shock from Thomas — he steps back, trying to bring his pistol up, but the librarian is far from a pistoliero.

Preston did mention something about loud noises, because as those birds burst from the undergrowth, right next to him, there’s that shouting from Lola, again, calling out to Seraphina, and instinctively, Preston lets rattles off a shot, right into that flock of birds. Reflexes kicking in.

It’s a loud, guns are loud of course.

When Preston shoots Matias brings up his own pistol and fires into the flock of birds in a quick three burst sequence. The SNS much quieter than the carbine the other man sports but no less able to cause Lola and his own ears to ring immediately after the shots are fired and take almost a minute to fade back to normality.

Preston is an excellent shot: and after all, hasn’t the NRA been calling the AR-15 America’s favorite hunting rifle for a decade? Its characteristic as a deer rifle to the contrary, it’s just fine for shredding multi-colored birds of paradise, though the way they fall in bloody puffs of feathers suggests they may not be as good eating as if he’d been using a full-choke 12 ga. The retort of the carbine rattles the cavern, and as the echo fades? Silence. Complete, utter silence, as if the whole world is holding its breath.

You feel uneasy.

As the ringing fades from his ears, Matias pockets his saint minted coin and reaches out to take Lola by her upper arm and puuuuuull her back a few steps and to his left side and then put a finger up to his lips before looking ahead again, expectantly

Once there is silence, Seraphina does not heed Lola, and her whispering concern. She does glance back to Thomas, Preston, Matias and the other woman, though to say, in a whisper herself. “Come, this way.” Her feet turn, and she is wandering now down a path heading northwest. She blows a puff of air upward to move some hair out of her face but it clings with drying mud to perspiration.

“Fuck!” Thomas swears. He does not shoot, but he’s looking at the air, around the jumgle — in some paranoia, clearly, flashing in green eyes. “Sera!” he cries out, as Seraphina starts moving. “Miss Hawke, what are you doing!”

There’s a grunt from Preston after his shot rings out, glancing around. Matias’ shot comes after, and he’s glancing around, an uneasy feeling about him. “Don’t like this,” he grumbles, and hurries after Seraphina. “I swear…”

Fuck,” Thomas swears.

Lola tucks herself in against Matias’ left side when he grabs her, the girl looking decidedly more nervous than she had been now that shots have been fired in the space and those lovely birds lay slain at her feet. Her breathing is quick and hurried- too fast, even, as her fingers curl into Matias’s blazer to hold her steady and keep her upright. She’s whispering something under her breath, mostly to herself, but otherwise she is in one piece.

When Seraphina moves Matias lingers beside Lola when Preston moves though Matias murmurs “Come on.” and begins moving up at a slightly slower rate keeping at least Preston in line of sight but not hurrying to close the gap between them either.

“There’s a sense about this place,” Thomas murmurs to Matias. “I sense death underneath all of this, Alejandro: like a rot, at the very core. Do you feel it?” he asks, scanning the foliage.

Indeed, this path is uncomfortably narrow — it’s hard to see Seraphina, up ahead, or indeed anyone up ahead. This is the sort of work for which a machete would be helpful, so narrow is the trail.

Certainly, there is -unease- in Seraphina, the way that she holds her blade, but her feet tell a different story. As she eases ahead of the group, she attempts to cut away at all the vegetation.

“How do you think a jungle survives underground, Librarian?” Matias says in a soft baritone of a voice looking at Lola and then Thomas. “Perpetual sacrifice of life. Decay, becomes magic, becomes light and water and life. Ever cycling… A quiet necromancy.”

Preston just walks carefully behind the lawnmower that is Seraphina, carbine held aloft, eyes constantly scanning ahead of them.

Now, the silence seems to recede: but it is not birdsong that replaces it. In the distance, there is a chorus of growls.

Seraphina turns to face her team that she has left, not quite in the dust, but in the dust, “It’s fiiiiiiiiine,” she says to them all. Her turn to be like Thomas in the empty assurances.

Up ahead of Seraphina, it seems as if the narrow path is starting to widen.

“Fine,” Thomas echoes back to Seraphina. He keeps behind Preston — and his boomstick — and looks over to Matias and Lola. “Everything okay?” he says. “Remember,” he tells them. “We’re just here to get our rubbings.”

“How far are we from the site?” Matias replies in lieu of confirming or denying things might be okay or not. Slate-grey eyes scan the greenery of the jungle with no special ability to see in the faux twilight of the caverns light or even with Seraphina’s illuminating glow.

“It’s like my self-sustaining mold terrarium,” Lola decides as she stays close to Matias, though realizing that she has spoken, she immediately hushes up, not wanting to talk herself into another holy by mistake. Instead she glances to Thomas with a nod, eager but also attentive.

“I have no idea,” Thomas tells Matias. “This whole cavern is untouched,” he says to the man, before he glances over at Lola. “Mushrooms are your thing, aren’t they?” he asks her.

“Yes, sir,” Lola answers Thomas eagerly, replying: “All fungi- mushrooms, toadstools, rots, rusts, yeasts, penicillin for example of molds, but I manipulate and work through both fuzzy and slimy molds also!” she rambles, Thomas having popped the tab on a slightly-shaken bottle.

“Where the hell…” Preston grunts as Sera just meaders off, apparently uncaring about her safety. And Preston follows.

Preston closes that distance from the past, following along behind Seraphina, “Sera,” he breathes out, almost in complete annoyance. “What are you doing? Stop just.. wandering off like that.”

Preston closes that distance from the jungel behind, following along behind Seraphina, “Sera,” he breathes out, almost in complete annoyance. “What are you doing? Stop just.. wandering off like that.” (fix)

Matias once again moves to keep line of sight with Preston with an audible queue for Lola to keep up before doing so. As they come upon Seraphina and Preston again, there is a slowing to a stop as slate-grey eyes look at the widening path with an audible *huh*

When they break free of the treeline — well, really, when Seraphina breaks free of the treeline — the cavern suddenly looms. On the far end of the plaza, a stepped temple rises, and it is disconcertingly whole. If before, jaguar motifs were everywhere, here they fight hand in hand with emblems of the dead.

The grass of the plaza is cropped, as if someone mows it, and the ball court in the center seems disturbingly well kept. The sense of life is still here, but it is suppressed: it is as if life itself genuflects to some dark power in that temple.

You feel extremely uneasy.

Preston shudders a bit, and if anyone was looking at him, they might feel the hairs on his neck, and arms stand up. “Don’t like this..” he mutters softly, quietly and efficiently wielding his rapier – rifle still slung over his chest.

“Look at these inscriptions,” Thomas says, his voice full of wonder. He moves on quick steps towards one of the pillars near the ball court, digging a piece of paper out of his bag. “Alejandro, Lola… Do you have paper?” he says. “Try to get as much down as you can.” He digs for his phone, too, taking photos, all the while glancing at the temple. “Let’s start with these pillars,” he says — his only concession to the possibility that the temple -might- be dangerous.

“Lola, you take pictures and rubbings. I will just keep an eye.” Matias instructs Lola in the wake of Thomas’ instruction while moving to just keep an eye on the open area around the pillar near the well kept ball court.

Now that Seraphina has efficiently led Preston, Thomas, Matias, and Lola into possible, probably, and eminent -doom-, she stops cold in her tracks, and she reaches behind her to pull out a bow. “See…. Fine.” This is whispered to the team, the unease in the white knuckle hold of the pretty weapon. She gives Preston an apologetic look, doe-eyes pleading for its acceptance.

“I am going to be half looking at the symbols to identify anything that is high priority to get pictures or engravings of.” Matias informs Preston as a caution when he takes up his lane of fire with the SNS pistol.

It feels as if there is something watching from the eaves of the jungle — something moving.

“What are you seeing?” Thomas asks Matias and Lola, as he presses paper up against what appears to be a flensed woman being devoured by a jaguar, surrounded by hieroglyphic script that reeks of magic.

“Y-Yes, sir,” Lola says as she reaches into her satchel and pulls out her mushroom-shaped notebook, coupled with a #2 pencil. She takes a few rubbings of a warrior deep in battle with a jaguar, and another of a warrior felled by the big cat, an epic retelling of animalistic slaughter, before pulling out her phone and taking a few pictures of hieroglyphs and pictographs. She listens to Matias’ advice and nods, then looks over to Thomas, stepping aside. “I see… A lot of warriors and jaguars fighting. Some are winning, some are losing, and… One big warrior with a feathered headdress? Perhaps the General, or their Chieftan…?” she inquires, tilting her head at the various images carved into the pillars.

There’s a twitchiness to Preston, an uneasy feeling. Taking a second, he drops to a knee, raising his rifle and scanning his vision through the sights, towards the jungle they left behind

Seraphina becomes distracted once more, but not out of anything peculiar that she can see on the immediate, outside of various etchings. One, in fact, she approaches, to touch, and trace with her finger only. “I had a dream…” she says, softly.

Matias is half torn between scanning the symbology because he is after all an arcanist and an academic and keeping another eye on the forest doing perhaps a less than stellar job at both.

“There’s supposed to be a jaguar god who rules over the land of the dead,” Thomas shares with Lola. “I wonder…” He looks up at Seraphina. “What was your dream, Miss Hawke?” Paper after paper are stuffed into his case.

Seraphina takes out a piece of … paper … so that she can make a rubbing of the glyph that has drawn her eye. “A king. Joining souls with a jaguar…” She looks sidelong at Thomas, “Its pretty disjointed. The beast was about to fell the king, but they locked eyes. Became one. And I was there. They were talking to me.”

There’s a shifting from Preston, more urgent now. Nobody seems to be paying much attention to him, or to goings on around, but, he’s gesturing now. A hand above his head, a closed fist. It’s a military signal, and maybe nobody else understands what that means.

“Huh,” Thomas tells Seraphina, looking up from his rubbings. “I would have — when did you have this dream?” he asks her. “Was it a feathered headdress on the king?” he asks, wondering. “Something else?” He looks over at Preston. “What’s going on?” he asks the man. “Are you… dancing?”

Lola’s attention momentarily turns to Seraphina and Thomas, and she smiles faintly before taking a step back and snapping a few more pictures before she notices Preston’s display. “Do you… Need to go potty? I think there’s some bushes! Just go potty!” she insists, gesturing all around them at the various plants growing about. “You’re so silly, Preston- o-oh,” she realizes as he speaks, suddenly falling silent and looking around with worried eyes.

Matias seems to be more interested in the glyphs and his section of the forest than Preston perhaps presuming he would make some noise and then he does and those slate-grey eyes go to the military man and then the tree line with a squint.

As Preston explains he is not dancing, his words are given truth. There is a snarl — and then something white leaps out at him. Something white, with dark spots, that leaps directly through a ghost-white pillar containing scenes of sacrifice as if it weren’t there. For all that it moves like a blur, the claws and fangs on the ghost-white jaguar seem terrifyingly real.

Thomas says “Fuck! “

Matias says “Cover on me.“

Matias says, shouting again, “Cover on me!“

draws his ritual blade, chanting.

Preston says “I’m a bit busy right now.“

Preston grunts, “Fuck,” he mutters, “Everyone all good?”

Lola says “Not for long!“

More jaguars are pouring out of the walls themselves.

“ANYONE ABLE TO BANDAGE?” Preston exclaims, fighting backwards, warding off claws.

Matias says “Not me, Preston.“

Thomas says “I am barely ip.“

One of those claws seems to get Preston badly, and he grunts in pain, grimacing, but he doesn’t back down.

Snarling chaos — the jaguars seem to phase in an out of reality, terrifying.

Thomas breathes out, drenched in blood. “How are people? Who is injured?” he cries out.

“Everyone okay?” Preston asks, staring around at everyone. There’s blood coming from Preston’s arm, a spectral tiger claw slashed a gash along his bicep. “Me.”

Matias takes a knee and begins catching his breath seeming completely untouched save for some claw marks in his blazer. Sweating profusely he gets back up and jogs to Thomas, “I am fine, Loveace, you okay?”

Lola clutches at a gaping wound on her stomach and tries to focus, tears streaming down her cheeks as the wound slowly, steadily begins to mend itself. Mushrooms sprout and grow from the white-meat injury, some of them acting as stitches and staples themselves to suture Lola’s flesh together. “I-I’m… I’m gonna be okay,” she insists.

Seraphina holds hard onto her blade, wide eyed and peering into the thicket. The blade drips blood and her body shows signs of being clawed multiple times.

“How badly?” Thomas asks Preston, turning to look between the temple, the pillars, and Preston’s bloody figure. He’s covered in blood as he grits to Matias, I’m healing.” Over at Lola. “That doesn’t look good.”

As Thomas indicates he will be fine Matias diverts to Lola jogging the distance and placing a hand on her back as he holds a hand over the fungi and moss that is sticthing her wounds together and murmurs something amplifying magical affects on Lola including her own.

Preston waves off a hand at Thomas, “I’ll be fine, it’s not serious,” Preston mentions to Thomas. Strolling over to the rest of the group now.

After a bit of pained breathing and murmuring, Lola’s stomach is mostly healed, a light red slash across her otherwise perfect pelt, but apart from the healing scar, she is doing just fine, assisted in part by Matias’ mutterings and her own. “O-Okay.. I think I’m okay now..” she murmurs to the group. “S-Sorry… It.. It hurt so bad…

Breathing hard, Thomas looks back at the rubbings. “I want — what do you think,” he says. “Look over there.” He gestures towards the ball court. “Do you see that pillar, set across from the others? It looks different.” He looks over at Matias. “Do you think it could be instructions for the game?” he asks. “We’ve never had the true instructions…” Lust for knowledge gleams in his eyes.

“Really?” Preston asks, glancing towards where the jaguars came at them from, towards that jungle. “You sure you want to keep going?” A look is given Lola, and he moves to squat near her. “You’re good, Lola, no need to apologize.” A glance is given Seraphina, and Thomas now. “We sure about this? Some of us are injured, yeah, not badly, but we should probably get the hell out of dodge.”

“I think I am good. I will heal…” Seraphina says, no matter how she looks. She peers to the pillar, but now she is on a heightened alert for anything else that may jump out at them. Now, instead of the sword, she trades in her bow, picked up from the ground after she’d fumbled it.

Matias looks from Thomas towards the opposite pillar, his hand still on Lola’s back as they regroup together. “I will get rubbing and video. If we are going to do this we may as well make the most before the next wave.” his baritone of a voice concuring with Thomas and perhaps pushing the group to a greater risk.

Matias breaks off from the group, holstering his pistol and pulling out a phone as to begin getting images and video of the other pillar as stated.

It is, in fact, a terrible idea to go get a rubbing. Just an awful idea. Thomas rushes to the pillar, though, as Matias starts to video-tape… and he begins to do exactly that. “It is!” he crows, despite Preston’s warnings. “Miss Hawke! I think these are the instructions!” he says. Never mind that he is standing in a blood-soaked arena.

When called upon, Seraphina begins to make her way to the pillar, trampling through a mix of their blood, and those of cats. “Instructions for what game, Mister Hale?” Her curiosity grows by the second as her fingers, bloodied, begin to trace along ancient glyphs. Cuts remain open, but the bleeding has ceased, glistening over with the protective layer the body automatically produces.

As Matias and Thomas run off to collect video and rubbings, Preston stays on one knee near Lola, now that Seraphina is wandering off. Rifle still trained towards the south, towards that jungle. Shaking his head, he glances towards the scholars, rubbing dirt from his face with a gloved hand.

Nodding to Matias, Thomas moves to take his rubbings. He looks over at Seraphina, taking on a lecturing tone to her, Lola, Matias and Preston. “The Great Ball Game,” he says. “Every Mesoamerican culture seemed to play it, but we don’t know the details,” he explains. “It might have been played with balls made from the skulls of their enemies, or just from balls — the losers might have become sacrifices,” he says. “We know it was a central, important rite, but we don’t know what or how it worked. Here… look at this!” he says. “If we can translate this…”

“P-Professors… I hear more things coming! Quickly!!” Lola calls out, giving up on the stealth approach as the inhabitants of the temple already seem to know Lola and her group are here. She does, however, look down where Preston has taken a knee before her, and hesitantly she reaches out and starts to gently rub and scrub a bit of blood from his face with her thumbs. She smiles faintly at him in the process, murmuring something quietly.

As Matias, Seraphina, and Thomas take rubbings, they are perhaps too busy to notice some shimmering thing appearing in the center of the ball court. Preston and Lola, however, are not: clad in some jaguar head-dress is a man, phasing into existence. In one hand, he holds a wooden sword, its edge studded with obsidian, while in the other he holds a skull like a football player might a ball.

Matias takes steps closer to the pillar having obtained a full 360 degree video of it and now tries to ensure they get as much detail short of the rubbings as possible. “The fact these are on the field imply they might have been part of game.” he theorizes in a distracted baritone of a voice.

It was a bit of a quiet conversation between Lola and Preston, and once again he’s the one who’s noticing things. Up he goes, bolting upright, “Uh, Thomas?” Preston calls out. They’ve been spotted and Lola’s right. No point in the stealth approach. “There.”

“Look out!!” Lola screams to Thomas and Matias as she points towards some figure that has appeared in the center of the court- a sword in one hand, a skull in the other, and a feathered headdress with a jaguar’s maw upon it’s cranium. “It’s here! He’s here! Someone- I don’t know, just watch out!” she insists, bouncing on her toes. “Professors!!

Seraphina turns toward Lola, her fingers tracing over the figure of what now stands before them on the court. “Oh… Professor…” she exhales.

When Lola starts screaming, Thomas looks up, a little annoyed at getting interrupted in his very important academic discussion. He’s about to say something — perhaps even something cutting — when he pauses. “Oh,” he says. “I see.” A breath. “Alejandro,” he asks, a little quickly. “How many are there on a full ball team, do you recall?”

Matias half-turns his attention still holding the phone in his hand… He looks annoyed… and at his feet the well kept vegetation already begins to crack the ground as roots are growing as if to pre-emptively shield himself and those near the pillar.

The librarian replies back quickly to Matias, “How are you feeling about the quality of that video?”

Librarians. Academics. Preston shakes his head in annoyance and strolls his way towards the rest of the group, glancing over his shoulder at Lola, probably indicating she should come along just in case.

Are there other figures shimmering, out on the ball court? It’s so hard to say.

There is more urgency hitting Seraphina’s voice to match that of Lola, “Professor…” She readies her bow, but says, “We should go.”

Matias looks at his phone and quickly locks it putting it back into his jean pocket. “Good enough, unless we are going to challenge the spirits and decipher the rules in real time.”

“I think the rules are: Stay alive!” Seraphina says to Matias, some anticipation in her fingers along the leather hold.

“I think,” Thomas says a little too quickly, “that it is a very good time for us to head back to New Haven.” He pauses. “I am getting hungry for dinner.” He stuffs his papers into his satchel with some concerned force.

Running after Preston, Lola follows him onto the court, the runes on her ring glowing faintly as she prepares to follow behind the rest of the group- or to fight their way out, depending on how quickly they can beat their feet. “Oh gosh… He’s big. He’s really big,” she insists of the spirit.

“I’d suggest we start moving,” Preston urges of the group, “I’ll cover us.”

The man with the skull — the captain? the priest — raises it up towards the temple, as if in offering. It’s almost a ‘Alas, Poor Yorick’ pose, but then he holds it out to Preston, Seraphina, Thomas, and Lola. He shouts something an unknown tongue, guttural and alien. None of them can understand what he says, but the meaning is clear: a challenge.

Seraphina peers closely to a ghostly ball player with a skull for a ball, and most importantly the sword. “Oh… Oh…” She breathes this out. “That will hurt.” She skitters over to Preston and Lola, onto the court, since it is the way out. “A lot.”

Matias looks at Thomas and reminds him, “We do not have our own skull to challenge him back. I bet both teams needed it.”

“Time to run, Miss Hawke,” Thomas/span>/spanAround all of them, it seems as if the cavern is waking up: each and every one of them can feel a sudden, baleful attention upon them.

“I don’t!” Preston calls after Thomas, “I said that already!” There’s a posture shift from Preston now, battle-ready once more. Pulling up the rear. “Go, go, go.”

Seraphina looses a feared, and yet giddy, sound, lifting onto the balls of her feet to, as she had lead the team in, to lead them out. “I’m sorry I led us all to be sacrificed!” But she doesn’t sound very sorry.

“I’m going!!” Lola insists as she runs after Preston and Matias, not eager to have her own skull used as a challenging stone. “We respectfully decline your challenge, sir!! I’m so sorry!!” she shouts towards the spectral Priest-Captain, then to Seraphina she says: “I’m sorry I thought you were talking abotu Preston’s wiener!!” as though they were all saying their final regrets before termination.

As they run, more ball players seem to fade in around them — but very soon, Thomas, Preston, Lola, Seraphina and Matias are back in the narrow undergrowth. It seems as if the cuts Seraphina just made are already healing up, and they can feel that sense of presence: feel as if something awful and powerful is watching them. “Let’s go!” Thomas says. If there are jaguars in this jungle, that’s a ‘later’ problem.

Seraphina replies to Lola, “You should be!” As if her offense was far worse. It’s hard to tell given how they are booking it through a regrowing forest and whacking through the bramble that she is joking.

Matias skims through the jungle not very quick, but fairly agile. Behind the pair of women and looking over his shoulder he calls out, “Do you think they are actual jaguar ghosts or spirits…” he asks in a shout towards Thomas

Preston is taking up the rear, not saying much in regards to anything. The man is bounding, running a few steps, and then turning to check to see if they’re being chased, and then running back off. He’s lagging just a bit behind, but he’s covering rear security.

“You looked at his pants!” Lola defends herself as she absolutely beats feet through the jungle, but then rather suddenly she stops- her eyes go hazy, and her arms hang limply at her sides. “But… No.. I..” she starts to say, the faint imagine of that half-jaguar, half-man floating before her, translucent but not invisible. “… Yes…” she whispers, closing her eyes as it settles a hand upon her forehead.

There’s a moment — Thomas stops short, and for a second, he seems to falter, his steps almost turning him back towards the temple. Then he takes a breath. “We need to go,” he says, resuming his run. “But…” His voice is full of some certainty. “We need to come back.”

Matias slows in his nimble footed run through the forest, slate-grey eyes dilating as they look at something in the distance. After a few steps he stumbles and snaps back to focus shaking his head and blinking his gaze back into focus looking at the others in the group

Seraphina’s eyes flutter closed at something, her sprint stopping full halt as this happens. There are no words that come from her, though. A nod, it is all the motion made, still and suddenly far too calm for the situation they have found themselves in.

There’s a grunt from Preston at something, pausing in his tracks for a moment. Taking a glance at everyone else, he frowns. A thoughtful expression on his face, and he lifts his shoulders in a shrug.

Inhaling a deep, deep breath, shuddering for a moment.

What a day, when every one of this intrepid party lets a little bit of the jaguar god of the underworld — exiled from the Godrealm into this dark, shadow-haunted cavern — into the spirit. What a day — or what a night, as they run through the jungle.

Bursting out of the undergrowth, Thomas beelines for the narrow cleft that gives access to the deeper tunnels. From the east, a louder growling is arising, and it’s hard not to see the flicker of ghost-white shadows from that direction. If someone wanted to wait, they could — but perhaps this is not a wise time for waiting.

“Keep fucking going,” Preston growls from the back. “We’ve been here long enough. I don’t want more jaguars, or that.. ball player guy to find us.” It’s hurried, rushing the rest of the crowd, and yet, he’s been mostly going with the rest of the group the entire time – still carefully watching their backs.

Stopped… Stumbling… Stumbling… Lola starts to run again, finding her pace once more after shaking herself out of that reverie. “Gods.. What have I done..” she murmurs, demanding that question of herself and no one else as she bee-lines for the way out, only to pause by Thomas this time as she notes those glowing lights. She looks towards the professor, then towards the glow, then hears Preston’s words and returns to running as though she had been spurred.

Matias waits for everyone but Preston to get into the next tunnel. Looking behind himself again as if checking for something that isn’t there he says to Preston, “Do you even have a Library card Blackwell?” its very important to find out

“No,” Preston tells Matias, strolling into the tunnel after him, urging him forward.

“You should get one…” Seraphina says, using her strength and might to wiggle herself up into the tunnel for the ascent back to New Haven. “There are perks.”

Into the tunnels — and these tunnels do not seem any safer that the cavern. Now, the strange jaguar glyphs have a sinister meaning, suggesting the violence of the place Preston, Seraphina, Thomas, Lola and Matias just left behind. It’s not long after they enter the tunnel that they can hear a growl behind them, uncomfortably loud in the confined space. It seems to echo, as if there is no place for the growl — or the teeth behind it — to go.

Thomas runs, booted feet and bloody clothes padding as hard as he can through the tunnels.

And then — then they are in the main tunnels. At last, the growling seems gone, and the ordinary creepiness of El Dorado sets in. Thomas doubles over, breathing hard, and then he begins to laugh, almost wheezing. “We made it!” he says, as if he didn’t believe they would.

Matias slows down as Thomas is catching his breath to lean against the wall himself and huff a few time, sweat staining the back of his blazer and dampening his face.

It’s adrenaline probably, that’s keeping Preston moving, because as soon as they’re inside that cavern, he’s scanning where they just came from – eyes narrowed and focused with his rifle. He’s all business, all security.

Stopping now to catch her breath, stamini steam running out, Seraphina tries to comb her hair with her fingers, tangled as it is from dried mud from her previous excursion through another City Between. She peers at Thomas, “You first.”

Lola finds no issue running back through that darkened tunnel and looking up, up, up into the passageway and its many branches. “What’s the order? Who’s first, who’s last??” she wants to know, turning towards Thomas expectantly as though he held all of the answers right now. Still, she can’t help but giggle and laugh when he does, not having expected to survive, or to hear his laughter herself.

“We should be safe in these tunnels,” Thomas wheezes, taking a breath. “Everyone have all their parts?” he asks, looking between Preston, Lola, and Matias, before he looks over at Seraphina. “Do we have all the rubbings?” He starts to look around, catching his breath for the tunnel back to the Endless Library.

Matias pats his phone in his pocket, “Have the video.” he explains in a brazilian accented voice

OOC: We are about done with ‘Rubbing One Out’. It’s possible that I will be able to SWalk back to the city and summon us back to avoid the long travel, but no promises. Some of these systems are still in flux. I’ll give us another round or so of emotes before I try.

Preston/span>/span“Me tooooo,” Seraphina says, pulling on her hair to release some mud.

Matias appears to have been the only person not spattered in mud or blood, just a ruined blazer

Showing often happens after rubbing one out, after all. Thomas nods to Preston and Seraphina, tired. “I’m ready to take a shower.” He looks over at Matias and Lola. “Thank you both, seriously — in that jungle, without your magic, we would have had real trouble,” he tells them. He starts to search for the passage. “Here, I think,” he says.

*Showering* often happens after rubbing one out, after all. Thomas nods to Preston and Seraphina, tired. “I’m ready to take a shower.” He looks over at Matias and Lola. “Thank you both, seriously — in that jungle, without your magic, we would have had real trouble,” he tells them. He starts to search for the passage. “Here, I think,” he says.

Matias looks over at Lola and points out, “This does count as private tutoring.” pushing off the wall no longer catching his breath he adds, “And is travel, not everyone has been to El Dorado.”

OOC: I will see now if summoning works.
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