Ritual Room
The room inside is dark, mainly because it's been painted black. Slightly fluorescent symbols cover the walls, ceiling and floor, along with a pentagram inscribed in a magic circle, with even more strange symbols within it. Bowls and jars full of colorful powders line the side of one wall, and tall candle holders stand at each corner.

The time has finally come to finish the long process of closing out the remnants left behind by the necromancer, Valicross. Today the staff of the necromancer will be forcibly dismantled on both a physical and spiritual level in order to find closure to the victims of his decades-long rampage. For the first part, the dismantling, the safest spot to use was the ritual room of the Castle. Pike was more than willing to allow the use and has led down the three participants in the ritual. Qing and Morgan are to perform the unbinding, Olivia is present to catalog those unbound for letters and such to be sent to their families afterward. So, here the three are, freshly arrived. Tucked under Morgan's arm is a box containing the staff.

Qing pours down the stone steps, winding his way unhurriedly, quiet but for the rustle of his traditional vestments, even sparing Morgan his sharp forked tongue today. Carried in his many arms are various instruments, books, scrolls, and tools of the arcane.

Right behind Qing is Morgan, overloaded with books and supplies. "This place never ceases to puzzle me," he whispers to his master as they head down stairs.

Olivia follows along behind Qing and Morgan, carrying a pad of paper and a pencil in one hand to make notes with. She looks fairly calm today – even the colors of her clothes are more sedate than usual, being only dark red and brown – but she makes sure to give the box that Morgan is carrying a wide berth.

The room is much as Qing remembers it. Little has been disturbed since their last visit, save for a bit of sweeping up from Igor. The room seems oddly oppressive today, as if it is aware of the grim task it will soon be part of.

"You will become used to these places in time, Nightshade," murmurs the Rokuga, making a slow circuit around the chamber. His long, pallid body spans a significant distance around the circle drawn in the center of the room. "This is a deep, old place, where this world's energies eddy, pool and concentrate. Powerful, but not wild. It is here that our craft can reach its fullest potential, and our work can be completed."

"As you say, Master Qing," Morgan murmurs. He's learned not to argue with the old mage, lest he get the sharp side of a tongue lashing. "I'll just place these containers, books, and reagents over here … " He kneels down, beginning to sort through the pile he carried down here.

Olivia watches Morgan and Qing nervously for a minute, then says, "Is there a certain place I should be, so I'm not in the way of anything you might be doing… or, er casting? Or would you prefer I help with something?"

"You can help me sort out these reagents, Olivia. This is a fairly complicated ritual, with a lot of threads to sort through. Thus, we have a lot of supplies that need to be ready quickly," he answers. Several wooden boxes are placed in a row, and he begins opening them one by one. "This is an old place. There have been rituals performed here before, so it's more … conductive."

The reptile makes his way back to where he started, nodding absently at his apprentice. "Avoid treading on the circle, Miss Weaver. Otherwise, you should have freedom to move about. In addition to cataloging and working with Nightshade, observe the spirits and make a note of who you recognize, if simply for your own convenience for later."

"It may help to jot down facial features, accents, or anything else you think is important, to help sort them out later," Morgan adds.

"Very well," Olivia says to the Rokuga, then carefully makes her way over to where Morgan is sorting out the equipment. "Just show me what you want me to do, Morgan. I'd hate to mess up anything magical… "

A little spray of something powdery is dusted about the circle by the mage, small handfuls of salt cast here and there along with low mumblings. Every so often, Qing stops to examine a mark or touch it, then refer to a book or scroll.

Morgan opens a box, and at first the contents seem to be nothing but bottles filled with black goop. Upon closer inspection, the 'goop' appears to be wriggling around. "Like calls like. The living creatures here will help call the living spirits, and because they are associated with the grave, their tie is that much stronger. Start with lining up the leeches, carrion beetles, worms, and so on, in alphabetical order," he explains.

To Qing, the room doesn't radiate any unusual presence, per se. Though, this time he can sense another presence somewhere else. Somewhere deep in the ground … dark and powerful at that.

With a grimace, the Skeek tucks her pencil behind one ear and her pad of paper into the back of the waistband of her skirt. "Boy, I'm glad I'm not a magic-user, this stuff is gross," she mumbles to herself, but she does as Morgan instructs. Very, very gingerly, she begins ordering the bottles.

"I've assigned you the living creatures because they'll be easier for you to identify than, say, the herbs or arcane powders," the squirrel says. He opens another box and, just as he said, begins sorting out jars of what seem to be identical jumbles of leaves and/or berries.

The Rokuga dusts at his hands, and his dour face creases into a deeper frown. "There is something… unexpected." He cocks his head, as if listening hard despite his lack of (visible) ears. "Something far, far below. It is strong, and it smacks of black arts."

Olivia looks up from what she is doing and eyes the mage curiously. "Will it keep you from performing the ritual here?" she asks.

"Unexpected?" Morgan pauses in what he's doing, turning to look at Mage Qing. "When you say 'unexpected,' that usually means 'bad.'" Morgan shakes his head, as if to clear it, and turns his gaze to peer downward, as if trying to see past an unknowable amount of dirt and stone to the source of the disturbance.

Now Morgan can feel it too. It's to the south from here and down deep. The sensation is oddly familiar, too. One Morgan is certain he's felt before.

Qing removes his smoked spectacles, and leaves the frown on his scaly face, shining the lenses unnecessarily with a corner of his mantle while he considers this. "This depends on what it is. It could be anything; spirit, dweomer, remnant, raw energy. It could be dormant, it could sense what happens here, it may already be watching somehow. I will make preparations to try to account for it, then identify it."

Morgan frowns as well, then rubs his chin. "Hmmmm," he whispers to himself. "It's almost as if … "

Olivia nods slowly at this. "I'll take that as fair warning." Then she goes back to organizing her bottles, but even she looks a bit worried now.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Master Qing," Morgan says after a moment. He then returns to his duties, frown leaving his face as if he were satisfied.

This gives Qing pause, and he looks over his shoulder at Morgan. "It is an intensely powerful presense and crafted of perverted magicks. Of course we must worry about it. Magic is an art, but also a science, Nightshade. We must account for as much as we can."

"In this case," Morgan says, looking up, "the presence is accounted for. It will not interfere."

Olivia now cocks her head in the Kadie's direction. "Why is that, Morgan? Do you know what it is?"

The Kadie has Qing's full attention now, the serpent turning in his coils. "Explain. Another of your 'tame' spirits?"

Morgan, returning to his sorting, shakes his head slowly. "An old, sad spirit. Older than any of us. She's bound to her own fate, and her own place. She won't interfere. Please, let her rest," the Kadie answers. One by one the jars line up, and then he's opening the lid and final box.

The reptile considers this for a while. "Hm."

Olivia quirks an eyebrow at the Kadie, shaking her head. "If you say she won't interfere, I believe you, Morgan – but I still don't know who you're talking about." After another few seconds, she gives a relieved sigh and says, "And I'm finished organizing this box, at any rate!"

Qing resumes his work, beginning preparations around the circle. "So be it. As I expect you to trust me, so should I have some measure of faith as well… but it is conditional."

"There are some secrets one is better off not knowing," Morgan says cryptically. He's since sorted out the contents of the final box: assorted, colored powders. He turns and skooches towards the circle. "It's a matter that has been handled. So long as she is not disturbed."

Olivia merely watches Qing and Morgan work now, having nothing else better to do. I kinda hope things get underway soon, though, she thinks to herself. The more quickly we get that staff dismantled and all the pieces out of here, the better.

The Rokuga's mouth stretches into a hard line. "The condition is that you speak of this being. Detail it, and leave nothing out while I prepare."

"With Olivia here?" Morgan asks, folding his hands in his lap.

While Qing listens, he goes to the long, casket-like box and opens it, taking the grim remnants within into his hands and moving to the center of the circle. "Weaver may hear. Anything of import will be beyond her ken."

Morgan glances at Olivia, telling her, "You may plug your ears, if you wish. I don't wish to burden you with knowledge you may not wish to carry."

Olivia chooses not to be offended by this, saying only, "He probably has a point there. I've had no training in magic, so I won't understand much of what you say, anyway. Go ahead, Morgan."

Morgan inclines his head to Olivia. "Very well." He clears his throat, then continues, saying, "What you feel now is the spirit of Buffy. Yes," he glances at Olivia again, "that Buffy. She is a senior spirit who has remained bound to the Chalks since the days of her undeath. She is Lord Snapfish's love, and it is love that both brought her to where she is now and continues to guide her."

Olivia looks startled at this, murmuring, "So the stories about her are true… somewhat."

"Somewhat," Morgan agrees.

"I see," hisses Qing. His myriad arms make numerous marks around the circle with colored sands poured from the tooth socket of a skull. "She is bound, then? Within a physical manifestation, or is she a self-sustaining ethereal?"

"The exact nature of her bind eludes me, except that she is bound to the Chalks and their defense, and may not leave her confines. She is intelligent and aware of her condition, and does not wish to break her bonds." Morgan stands up now, brushing his pants off. "A bit of both, if we use your typing, Master Qing. Of a more general sort, one would call her a vampire."

Tilted this way and that, the stream of sand pouring from the skull changes in color every so often, a new circle overlying the first taking shape. "Uncontrolled blood feeders are abominations. Do the Chalks exert a control, or are the terms of her binding self-imposed?" asks Qing.

"It would appear to be a bit of both, although the bindings were wrought by others. Who, exactly, I do not know," Morgan answers. He glances at the ritual circle, seeming to mentally note the design. "I have spoken with her myself, at length."

"She bears a sort of purity one rarely sees. It would not be wrong to say I feel an obligation towards her, as well. I consider her under my protectorate," the squirrel adds.

Olivia, who has been thinking quietly to herself this whole time, suddenly seems to come to a realization, but looks unsure about voicing it.

The circle seems to be an elaboration of one the ones the serpent has described at length to Morgan. The design would be 'Witches Gate', common for seance, but the outer edges are layered by rings that are reminiscent of 'Acolytes of the Alabaster Spire', including a smaller circle nearby. The smaller circle is connected by the Knight's Bridge. Satisfied, Qing takes up some of the ordered jars, and drops a few of the herbs that Morgan organized into a burner. "Light these, Nightshade. I will begin the protective rituals, and then we will evoke."

"Yes, Master Qing." Morgan pats Olivia's shoulder as he walks by, picking up his flint and tinder before walking to the burner. A few flicks later, and the incense begins to smolder.

While the elder mage waits, he contemplates. "I would meet this so-called guardian."

Now that the ritual is about to begin, Olivia pulls out her pencil and pad again and puts them in front of her as she sits on the ground, well outside the circles.

Qing hisses, "Now that I think about it, I believe some of the townsfolk mentioned something to this effect, but I assumed it to be a folk tale."

"There's a grain of truth in every folk tale," the Kadie whispers. He steps back from the incense burner and folds his hands in front of himself. "You wish to meet her? And you have heard what I have to day. Very well, I'll see what can be arranged. The binding has conditions, however, and I will need time to arrange a safe passage and meeting."

The snake flicks his tongue. "Spirit magic is a science of conditions, Nightshade. It is no matter. We begin." And so he does. If his mutterings made little sense before, they're incomprehensible now, recognizable as Imperial, but seemingly shifting away even from that. Qing's arms begin to undulate, forming twisting patterns in the air that slip about or bleed away dizzyingly. Without breaking stride, he plucks a leech from the jar… having already fed, it does not bite him, and simply squirms in his grasp until he crushes it over a point on the circle, dripping the blood it was engorged with into an eye-like shape.

Watching this, Olivia thinks to herself, And once again, I am so glad that I am not a magic-user. Blech!

Even Morgan doesn't seem to want to watch leeches getting squished. He looks elsewhere, and Olivia well knows he dislikes blood, mess, and slime.

For his part, at least Qing doesn't make more mess than necessary. He moves with a certain practiced ease that, while not what one would describe as graceful, is very efficient. All but one hand is wiped off on a nearby cloth for the purpose, one last hand held aside and covered in crimson. Over time, the eyes around the circle seem to move… not when directly looked at, but out of the corner of one's vision they might seem to blink every so often. A small wisp comes into being and orbit's the snake's familiar bowl hat. Finally, after considerable time has passed, Qing hefts the staff, and lays his bloodied hand on one of the skulls, leaving a clear handprint. "Ss'edrath. Drelo. Forzath. Arlo. Emerge."

"Here we go," Morgan whispers aside to Olivia. "Steel yourself."

Olivia nods to the Kadie and watches for what will come, ready to move out of the way if necessary.

All sound in the room seems to suddenly be sucked away. The staff starts to pulsate in a deep, crimson, light. The points at which the bones connect flare brighter than the lengths of bone in between. The flashes of light are hypnotic, almost as if watching a heartbeat. The glow expands out from the staff slowly, starting to take the shape of an individual … then something else happens. The red glow shifts to a slimy black, as if watching boiling pitch flow down a wall. It then literally explodes outward in a silent wave, engulfing all those gathered.

But the master mage's spell of shielding takes the brunt of the blast. Instead of being absorbed into the darkness that flowed outward, they find themselves standing, floating, doing something, in the middle of absolute nothingness. Each of those present has just a faint blue shimmer around their bodies; the results of the protection spell. The best way to describe this place would be a void. Complete and total nothingness. The silence is deafening.

Morgan had stepped aside with uncharacteristic quickness to try and shield Olivia, throwing up his hands and tail to take the brunt of the blast. Only, no blast comes, which leaves him blinking past his tail at the void. "Olivia? Master Qing? Are you … alive?"

Olivia stares, wide-eyed, at the emptiness all around them. Then she starts to experimentally move her feet, to see if she can 'stand' in this odd place, before calling out to the others, to see if they can hear her.

Yes, her voice can be heard. It's hard to say whether the absence of an echo in complete nothingness, though, is creepy or not.

"A masterful trap? No amount of studying the staff these past weeks revealed it to me," comes Qing's voice, contemplative more than anything. "Well played, Valicross. Let us see what there is to it, then… purifying brand, incinerator of the inciter, Heretic's Bane, come to me." More of the strange chanting.

Greatly relieved to be able to hear her friend, at least, Olivia takes the Kadie's hand and tugs on it, hoping that he will help her to stand on her trembling legs. "I… I think I'm alive in here. Are you okay, Morgan?"

As Qing chants, something breaks through the void. A small sound, like the dripping of water. Slowly, it grows louder the longer the reptile chants…

"AHH!" Morgan's tail poofs when his hand is taken, and he only calms after glancing back and seeing who has his hand. "Oh! Olivia! You're okay! I hear Master Qing, too." He blinks at her, adding, "Oh, I think I'm fine."

"Back, putrefaction… " hisses Qing. He slices at the ink surrounding them with his arm, as if wielding some invisible sword.

Olivia smiles a little and gently smooths back Morgan's tail-fur. "Then we're all present and accounted for. I just wonder… Mage Qing mentioned a trap just a minute ago, so… I just wonder where we are now."

The darkness peels away from Qing's swipe. All around them the darkness starts to ripple and flow like melted wax. Shapes start to form. No, dark stone columns by the look of it. Then a stone floor beneath their feet. Then a ceiling far above. The void falls away, leaving those gathered standing in a grand hall of some sort of … temple? Up ahead is a desk with some figure hunched over it scribbling away in a book.

Morgan blushes a little, then coughs. "Well, um. Yes. Well! We should focus." He pats Olivia's hand, then looks around for a moment. "It would appear that we have entered some sort of spirit-realm. We should stay near each other."

The witchdoctor stares, his spectacles still pocketed so his crimson eyes can peer from beneath his hat. He lets his arm drop, the brand discorporating from his hand. His wisp hovers closer, as if huddling near the mage for shelter.

Olivia nods, then slowly moves forward to stand to one side of Mage Qing. "Do you think we should approach… er, whoever that is?" she asks quietly.

"Whatever we do, let's join Master Qing." Morgan joins Olivia at the side of the old master, asking, "Master, what has happened? I've never dealt with this level of necromantic … whatever this is." He gestures around vaguely. "Spirit realms of this nature are very difficult to approach."

From the far end of the room, they can hear the raspy voice of whomever that is call out, "Dagh blasted eye … keeps falling out." The person quits writing and starts crawling around on the floor, hand sliding around as if looking for something.

The mage tilts his head, glancing about thoughtfully, brows lowered. "Could be anything. Valicross was a wily, paranoid bastard with unparalleled skill. One of many traps he could conceal from me, no doubt." At that raspy voice, Qing suddenly seems to respond to a compulsion… he darts forward suddenly.

"It's almost like stories I've heard of the afterworlds of certain religions," Morgan muses aloud. He seems about to say something else, when Mage Qing darts forward. "Wha- … ?"

With speed unexpected for such an elder Naga, Qing darts across the floor and scoops up something. The figure stops in its search and sits back. "Well, Dagh take me, new arrivals. Figures the ol' eye would fall out right when I needed it. Bloody hard to write with only my left eye, it's always been weak," the figure grumbles.

A black furred hand lands on Morgan's shoulder from behind almost as soon as Qing darts forward. "Morgan, what have you done?" demands a rather peeved sounding, if familiar, voice.

The mage sways to the side, holding up his hand to inspect his prize… a cloudy eye with an optic nerve still dangling from it. "Who am I addressing?" he rasps.

"AHH! Stop doing that, Olivi-" Morgan's voice cuts off as he twirls around, blinking.

The white bridal veil does little to hide Buffy's angry, glowing red eyes. "Is this necromancy you're messing with?" the black Lapi maid demands. At least her wedding dress isn't all in tatters this time.

"Right, no rest for the dead and the damned," the figure sighs as he gets to his feet, "I'll find it later. You folks had better be careful were you step. Piss me off and I'll assign you the worst of the rooms." He settles back into his chair with a squishy thud. "To business. Name, age, species, and special abilities, if any," the figure says. It looks Qing up and down, then adds, "Aside from being ugly and smelling like a chamber pot. You're addressing your host, think of me as the snot which binds this place together, if you will."

Now that the figure at the desk doesn't seem to be a threat – at least for the moment – Olivia takes courage in this and walks up to join Qing. She listens with curiosity as he describes a little of who he is and where they are – not that it makes much sense to her yet.

"WAH," Morgan adds, upon seeing Buffy. "Buffy! I mean, um … er … " His tail twitch and his ears wiggle, before he leans over and begins whispering to Buffy, "It is necromancy, but it's not ours. At least, this isn't our doing. We've been attempting to free the chained spirits a previous necromancer bound, in order to grant them peace. However, he's a bit trickier than expected." Leaning back, he adds, "I didn't expect to see you here. How is that possible?"

"Host, are you? Host of what, exactly?" hisses Qing. He holds up the eye. "If you're supposed to be doing a job, then answer my questions and you can have this back to do it with."

"A necromancer!" Buffy all but yells at the Kadie. "And you're trying to do this underground, right in my backyard! Witches don't mess with this stuff, Morgan Nightshade. What were you thinking? And I'm here because I'm annoyed. What's your excuse?"

Becoming instantly calm and friendly, Buffy turns to the Skeek and says, "Oh, hello. You're Olivia Weaver, aren't you? A friend of Miranda's? I'm Buffy Chalk."

The rotting figure at the desk leans forward to examine the two. "Blast, you two are still alive. You should not be here if you're alive. This is the clearing house for sorting which of the spirits Master Valicross will use for himself, and which he retains as backup sources for rituals. I am the host; I am his staff. I am not some simple spirit of a mortal. I am the containment spell. Master Valicross thought I should have a personality." It taps its chin with a rotting finger, musing, "Now, what do I do with you? I can't have the living wandering about, it upsets those contained."

Morgan holds up his hands defensively. "Shh, shh! I said you wouldn't interfere. That man," he points back at Mage Qing, "is from the Collegia Esoterica, and it would be wise if you were to tread lightly around him. I can't protect you if you're not careful." He takes a deep breath, breathes out, and adds, "I am here because this needs to be done. I will protect this village – you, too! – with the right tools, whatever they be. And how can you lecture me, you're a vampire guardian!"

Olivia turns back to Morgan for the moment when she realizes that she's being talked to… by someone else. She jumps a bit when she hears the name, then squeaks, "Oh! Well, for goodness' sake… er, hello. Nice to, ah, meet you? Although I don't know how you got here… "

"Hmp." The mage doesn't sound entirely surprised. If he's made note of Buffy yet, he makes no indication, seeming too busy. "Good, then. You can have this." With a flip of his hand, he tosses the eye toward the rotten keeper.

"This is a limbo zone," Buffy notes. "I exist in limbo, more than anyplace else. And are you implying that just because I'm a vampire I have to like necromancy, Morgan?"

"Did someone say vampire?" the figure behind the desk says, perking up and catching the eyeball it its hand. He shoves it back into the eye socket with a disgusting squish sound and apparently losing interest in the living. "Well, now that is certainly dead and can be quite useful. Please, approach so you can be cataloged and sorted to the proper holding cell."

"Don't get your hopes up, one-eye," Buffy tells the clerk. "I'm not here to check in, just to look after my witch."

"No, no," Morgan insists. "You should know full well what risks love can make you take. It isn't with your cute appearance you guard the Chalks, either." He pauses, then glances back at the sorting spirit. "Um, definitely don't go over to him. You might be my senior, Buffy, but I am still your witch and your guardian – dead or alive!"

"I'm not going to interfere, Morgan," Buffy promises. "I just wanted you to be aware that I don't like surprises like this. I hate necromancy! You have no idea how much I hate it!"

"This isn't a hotel, you can't just walk in and out as long as Valicross lives, you know," the creature drawls and waves a quill at Buffy. "I can see why he must have picked you, though. Not a bad looker. He'll have a fun few rolls with you, I'm sure."

"If he were alive I couldn't have come here in the first place," Buffy grumbles, then whispers aside to Morgan, "He is dead right?"

"We weren't aware you would be affected, otherwise I'd have warned you," Morgan tells Buffy quickly. "Believe me, I have no interest in upsetting your rest. I wasn't lying when I said I feel beholden to you." The Kadie then nods, before looking around quickly. "By the Tome, I hope so! We've put down both his living and spirit bodies, already. The man is an evil weed."

When the keeper seems distracted, one of Qing's lower hands reaches back to snuff the wisp that had been trailing him… while the rest crook into bony claws. Streams of blue coil from them and lash about, flailing at the animate corpse!

The corpse at the desk arches a rotting brow at the streams of blue energy dancing over his corpse. He waves them away with a dismissive hand and they dissipate like so much blue smoke. "I generally expect someone to buy me a drink before they try to seduce me, thank you," it says with a bored sigh. He leans over and starts scribbling in the book, muttering, "Right, one bleached out, old, ugly, guy with magical ability. Has the charm of a rotting Rughrat. Still living." The containment zombie then pauses there and taps the page with the quill. "Blast, right, alive. I can't do anything with someone still alive. How DID you get here if it wasn't through a ritual binding?"

Olivia holds one hand to her forehead for a moment as all their carefully-laid plans seem to run away from them at the sight of one corpse with an attitude. Walking past Qing now to face him, she says quickly, "Uh, sir… spell… well, whatever you are… I think you ought to know that your master, Valicross, is dead and is not coming back. I should know, because I helped to make sure that he stayed dead, as did several others, including Morgan here," she adds , waving a hand at the Kadie.

The Naga recoils, hissing angrily. "Blast it… the lich was one step ahead." He keeps his focus on considering another spell, but deigns to respond to the desk corpse, now that he's more or less forced to. "I evoked the staff, keeper. It is as the Skeek says. Valicross is slain, and his lich spell discorporated. There is nothing left for these spirits to serve. He will not be returning."

"Well, Dagh take it. I was only two centuries away from vesting in my pension, too," The corpse growls at the news and throws up his quill in disgust. "So, then I am to understand I have all of you to thank for ruining my afterlife?"

"You can thank Valicross and his evil," Morgan replies, turning back around. He scoots so that he interposes himself between Buffy and the sorting spirit, just in case.

"I've never seen an actual zombie before," Buffy comments as she tries to look around Morgan's tail.

Olivia looks rather taken aback at the idea that corpses would have pensions, but she recovers just enough to say, "Yes, sir, I'm afraid so. I'm sorry that this is unwelcome news, but the safety of my town depended upon his defeat. Not to mention the safety of other dear friends of mine."

"Evil is a subjective term, Mister Man-in-a-Dress," the corpse drolls, "It is a more polite thing to simply say he was misunderstood." To Buffy, the Zombie grins a mostly missing set of teeth at Morgan and waves its fingers at her. Well, right up until they fall off onto the desk.

"You never had an afterlife," Qing points out. "You said yourself, you are a spell. As you can do nothing to us, tell me then, what it is you might wish so that I can go about MY job, since I still have one."

"I may be a spell, but that doesn't mean I can't have dreams. I swear, the living have no respect for the dead's feelings," the corpse mutters.

Morgan blinks as his tail is moved, but leans back to whisper, "He can't harm the living, but he may be able to harm you. Be careful, Buffy."

There's a pause, but Morgan leans in to add, "Have you ever considered a new look? I could sew a dress that would look wonderful on you," to the vampire

"I swear, the living treat the dead like some sort of servant. They dig them up, poke them, prod them, pour potions on them, and for what? So the fat slob of a mage doesn't have to get his butt out of a chair to make his own tea," the corpse goes on. "No, how are you today. No, my, that slime is a lovely shade of green on you. Noooo; it's always Slave, go get me my tea or I will rend you apart for all eternity.."

"I like my wedding dress," Buffy says quietly. "And I'll wear it until I get my honeymoon, or nothing at all."

"The dead aren't supposed to feel," hisses the mage, waving a hand dismissively. "The dead are supposed to die. Then stay dead." Qing jabs a bony finger out. "If you want to make a claim to still having some form of life, then work for me. You may not like me, but I'm no Valicross. Once I release these spirits, I can do something with you. Fair enough?"

"A honeymoon?" Morgan peers at Buffy curiously. "Really?"

"Pay attention to the worm-guy up there, Morgan," Buffy comments. "Now is not the time to become distracted."

"The dead feel plenty," the zombie-spell counters, "Outside of using those trapped here to power various rituals, some he kept just to torture for annoying him." He slams the book on his desk closed, and promptly knocks off its arm. So, he has to take a second to shove it back in its socket. "But fine, whatever, I'm fired. I get it. Blast, the least Valicross could have done was fire me before he died," it grumbles and leans back in its chair. "Might as well help you out, then, I suppose. There are several ways to do that. Do you wish to speak to a few first, or just end it all now?"

"Oh. Right. Later then." Morgan turns back around and watches the zombie.

"We shall speak to them," hisses Qing. He gestures at Olivia. "She may know some of them, she is to accompany me." Another arm on the same side of the body gestures at Morgan. "Speak with my apprentice. He will arrange your retirement on your terms. I have no time to waste on such trivialities." The third arm, still on the same side, gestures at Buffy. The shimmering blue that was surrounding Skeek, Naga, and Kadie now extends to her.

"Of course, Master Qing," Morgan says in a less than excited voice.

"What the – " Buffy begins to say as the tendril of magic approaches her, then just looks at herself with the blue outline. "I don't suppose I could get purple?"

The arm that was gesturing at Buffy flails in irritation. Her aura deepens to violet.

"Perhaps I'll just assign you an escort, then, while I have a little heart to heart with your slave," the corpse says and reaches under its ribcage. It pulls out a putrefying heart and offers it to Morgan with one hand, while snapping its fingers with the other.

Buffy actually begins to warm up to the Spirit Mage, and even says, "Thank you!"

There's a soft scraping sound as someone comes limping through the side door. Another Khatta, this one entirely spirit. Its clad in the decaying remains of some sort of guard uniform and can't have been older than seventeen when he died. "You called?" it asks in a tired sounding voice.

"Errrrm." Morgan accepts the heart, but holds it at maximum distance from himself. "Thanks. I think." He frowns at the heart, shaking his head. "Just don't expect mine back."

"Pity, you are rather cute," the zombie tells Morgan. "Bet you have a tasty heart. Probably a succulent brain, too."

Qing looks the soldier over thoughtfully, then leans toward Olivia. "Do you recognize this one? Could he have been one of Natasha's?"

"I hope I'll never know," Morgan tells the zombie. He holds the heart away from himself with one hand, grimacing. He looks at the new arrival, brows furrowing for a moment before he says, "I remember him. He's the guard who interrupted Valicross, when first he captured Natasha. You could say he's the reason Natasha is alive and Valicross' ultimate plan failed."

Olivia's eyes widen at the suggestion and she leans in to get a closer look at the soldier, to see if there is anything on his uniform that might identify him as part of the Emirate. At Morgan's words, however, she gestures to the Kadie and says, "I suppose that answers that."

"This one is Kadin," the corpse says in a rather bored tone and with a nod to Morgan. "Master Valicross bound him so he could keep him around and torment him for that. He's the most hated one in here by the Master's standards. So, I use him for whatever menial tasks I have at hand. Kadin, you're to show these people around and introduce them to those who remain."

"I'll remain here and … see to … things," Morgan says. He glances at the heart again, tail twitching.

"Good, then." Qing begins murmuring to himself, and his fingers lace together.

"More prisoners of Valicross?" Kadin says, sounding tired and looking horribly gaunt and bedraggled. Somehow the spirit even has patches of fur missing.

"Be careful," Buffy tells the others. "Spirits that have been locked away and tormented for decades can be a bit cross."

"Hardly," Qing replies to the bedraggled spirit. "We are his vanquishers. His life was taken by those of Stonebarrow, his body was destroyed by them, and his spell was broken by your charge, Mage Al Nadia, who yet lives." The reptile reaches one of those long, pale arms out, and simply puts it through Kadin's chest.

The tired expression of Kadin practically melts at hearing both the death of Valicross came to be and that his old comrade has survived still. "Then it was worth it," the spirit murmurs, not even flinching with the Naga reaches through him.

"So, what did you have in mind," Morgan inquires, turning to the zombie. "Do you wish to rest, or to continue your unlife in some alternative capacity?"

"Really, I haven't thought much about it," the zombie says, sounding bored. "I suppose I could bind with you and share your body? Perhaps have it every other day of the week?"

The murmuring on the mage's part continues, and as he speaks more of those strange blue tendrils seem to stretch away from his fingers inside Kadin's translucent form. Satisfied, Qing speaks normally now. "Yes. Your legacy survives as one who was instrumental in saving Al Nadia's life. You will meet her when this is done, before we send you on."

"It's not even a real spirit," Buffy says, leaning forward to look at the keeper more closely. "I bet it was never alive."

"I'm afraid that wouldn't work," Morgan tells the zombie. "Besides being plain unwilling, I cannot share my body with untrustworthy spirits. I have my people to take care of. You should understand that." He glances at Buffy for a moment, then nods. "As she says. You may never have lived, and would likely be ill-suited to a living body."

The bedraggled form of the spirit slowly starts to fill out as the mage chants and the patches of 'fur' slowly grow back in. "I would like that," Kadin says, sounding a bit stronger, "And if I could, I would like to dictate a letter to someone before I rest. I was supposed to wed when we returned from this mission. The pay was to cover the costs of the ceremony. I just … I want to say goodbye to the woman I loved and left behind."

The corpse shrugs with a small frown. "That's just prejudice against the crafted. If you won't have me, then what about your Skeek, here? I could get used to being a woman," it says.

Olivia nods to the Khatta's spirit and says, "I can take your dictation after we have met with the other spirits. I would be happy to send it to your old fiance' for you."

"Thank you," Kadin says to Olivia.

Morgan shakes his head 'no' to that, as well. "I'm afraid we are unwilling to surrender any living bodies, unless they grant their consent. You may ask her, but I tell you now: she will say no," he tells the zombie.

"Very well," hisses Qing, nodding agreement with Olivia. "Let us proceed."

"I could eat him," Buffy offers.

"Oh well," the corpse says with another small shrug. To Buffy, the corpse grins, noting, "That could be fun. But realize I might be able to take over you if you tried that. I think I could get used to being a vampire. The dress would have to go, though. It's too … innocent."

Olivia, upon hearing that the zombie-spell is now asking to inhabit her body, says quickly, "Yes, let's get out of here and meet the other spirits. I don't want to stick around long enough for our host to get any more ideas about sharing body space! Particularly mine."

"Maybe not then," Buffy amends, looking creeped out by the corpse – or perhaps at yet another blow against her fashion choice.

Morgan glances at Buffy again, shaking his head slightly. "Are you sure? Your power is great, I know, but if he were to take over your body … We would have to bind it," he tells her. "And beyond that, my advice is no. I do not think he should be granted autonomy without restriction."

"Lead the way, Kadin," hisses Qing, falling into step. He shakes his head soberly. "I can only hope the rest are not too far gone."

"That reminds me. Buffy," Morgan lifts his brow and takes the vampire's hand, "I am willing to lend you my body, if you wish to feel alive again – if just for a time."

"Meh, I'm bored again," the corpse declares to Morgan, "In truth, without the staff, I have no real purpose for existing. It would be simplest if you just dissected and destroyed me. I can explain my structure to you. I think you could manage the ritual to undo it. Maybe."

"That… uh… " Buffy says to the offer, then gains her composure and pats Morgan's hand. "I don't think I can possess people, Morgan, but thank you for the offer."

"Some are, some are not," Kadin tells the Naga and starts to lead Olivia and Qing off towards a side door. "There are not so many here now, a couple of dozen at most, Valicross used most of the others to power some major ritual a season ago. I am glad to know it must have failed."

"If you ever want to try, you know how to find me," Morgan tells the vampire. "And I look good in a dress." He smiles a little, then glances at the zombie. "If that is your wish. I would want Master Qing to observe, of course. But, perhaps you would wish another duty? Valicross left much behind, and you seem well suited to sorting."

Qing's angular face tightens. "Perhaps their patterns remain around the bones themselves, that they can at least give the families some answers. We will see what we can see. I am glad you had the stomach for this, Weaver. It is fortunate we have someone to sift through the pieces… they might be too small for me to recognize."

"What, you have a pile of souls to sort? That was what I was made for," the corpse points out. "I should have known, you're in training to be a necromancer. Well, then that is a different story. I could teach you much about such art." The creature grins again and nods towards Buffy, "We could start by how you could work to enslave this one… "

"Thank goodness for all of us that it failed," Olivia notes quietly to Kadin, as they walk towards the side-door. "Many others would have joined you here that I would have been sad to lose." To Qing, she says simply, "You're welcome, Mage Qing. I will do what I can."

Morgan sighs, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose. "I'm afraid I've already had enough 'offers' to teach me Necromancy; that line won't work." He shakes his head, than peeks over, smiling at Buffy. "I like her just the way she is, thank you. I have no need to enslave my friends."

"Neither do I, Morgan," Buffy replies.

"Pity. If you do not wish to work in the arts for which I was made, then I do not see what you can offer me," the corpse tells Morgan with a shrug. "Therefore I will try to instruct you on the ritual of unbinding. Please tell me you at least keep entrails on hand, fresh leeches, and powdered Rughrat bone. If you don't have at least that, you're hopeless."