It's midnight now, and the night mists lap right up against the bases of the trees and blanket the rest of the island and the swamp from visibility. The campfire is little more than embers now, kept unlit to avoid attracting attention, but a small stand of alcohol-soaked torches are kept close by, ready to light, and several tripwires run between the trees to warn of anyone getting too close.

Alptraum sits reclined against a tree. His eyes are closed, but his ears are constantly moving as he tracks the nighttime solely by sound, the various reflections and noises forming a hazy image in his mind of the dreary landscape. "You know, Charo, you can get some sleep," he comments quietly.

"I have things to do," the boatman says in his whispery voice. He takes the gourd from his belt and uncorks it, sucking in the Khatta spirit that had been riding with them since morning. Once the fallen soldier is all in, the gourd is re-corked.

"There are always more things to do. Take a moment to recover yourself," Alptraum remarks idly. "Life is constantly beginning and ending, after all."

"Perhaps I will rest then," Charo says, although he doesn't seem to move from his sitting position. "The zombies are marching now, keep your ears open."

Having taken the first watch after camp had been made, Tulani is now sleeping lightly, her wings rustling occasionally in her sleep.

"I could hear a Gallee going pee on the other side of the swamp," Alptraum remarks with a slight smirk. "If anything heads this way I'll say something, do not worry."

Charo goes silent, and the only sounds are those of the people in camp, and the occasional rustle of the willow branches.

Arkold stirs from under the tree he has been using as a headrest. "'Ey, you talk enough to wake the dead, eh," he remarks groggily.

Alptraum's eyes open and he gets slowly to his feet. Out of curiosity he unfurls his wings and stands facing east. "Ssshhh, Arkold, something is up," he whispers.

"It's m- … oh, eh … up. As in … yeah." Arkold rolls over and puts his head back down, eyes closing, though he reaches over and lays a hand on his sword. "Tell 'em to give me a hand's worth of time, then I'll have at 'em," he whispers.

Alptraum hmms. He reaches out and puts his hands on the tree trunk. "Look at the branches, Arkold," he whispers. "Then notice there's no breeze… "

The eye nearest Alptraum opens as Arkold squints at him in the darkness. "A more tragic lack than ever there was one," he mumbles, "Are we bein' invaded by fans? Anti-swamp gas spirits? Got a point here, bats?"

Very faintly, the sound of piping can be heard coming from the east now too – even more unusual, however, is that both Alptraum and Arkold hear it at the same time.

"Oh," says Arkold. He sits up.

"What, the dead are having a celebration? Do you hear that? Some sort of flute, a fife, maybe?" Alptraum muses. "Should we wake the others? Charo, if you're still awake, and I expect you are, do you know what that is?"

"It is just a Gallisian marching tune," Charo says.

"I presume the defeated army, then? Why is the tree pulling towards it?" Alptraum inquires. He spreads his wings a bit more and notes, "I could go see what it is… "

"Ey', the tree is movin'," Arkold announces, somewhat late to catch on. "Maybe they 'ave a Earth mage with 'em, but I wouldn't count on it."

"I would urge you stay within the trees," Charo whispers. "You will be able to see the troops soon enough."

"Ah, it's the undead army, then. Better make sure we have flint ready for the torches," Alptraum notes and starts gathering stuff close. "Let's not wake the others unless necessary, eh?"

The sleeping Sphynx flicks an ear at the continued conversation from a few feet away and blinks sleepily awake, mumbling, "Hrrmm… What's going on?"

"I'd 'ate to have to fight off an army, even a dead one," Arkold reaches over and belts his sword, then moves to a hunched crouch so he can peer over the bushes. "I can 'ear it well enough now, looks like they're comin' in that way."

"Just a marching army of the dead. Nothing unusual for us," the Eeee quips.

The sound of the fife grows closer, but as yet there is little to see - only the ocean of mist that covers the swamp.

Tulani blinks twice and rolls her eyes slightly at the Eeee's quip before quickly sitting up as the thought of the marching undead burns off some of the muzziness of sleep.

"I wonder if being dead improved their disposition any? Gallee are typically obnoxious," Alptraum remarks to the others.

Arkold rubs his head with his off hand, keeping the other on the hilt of his sword. "Don't count on it. Somethin' as minor as death won't change a Gallee's disposition, an' he'll have his nose in the air somehow even if someone cut it off," he says.

Something finally rises up out of the mist… a broken fife! It hovers in the air, moving as if still being held. When it's just a dozen feet beyond the trees, the spectral outline of a Gallah pup, perhaps ten years old, flickers translucently into being. He's marching along and playing the fife, and heading right towards the camp.

Tulani takes hold of her crossbow, not entirely sure of its use against the undead, and watches silently as the small figure rises out of the mist, blinking with some surprise at the sight of the ghostly pup.

"Great, they bring their kids to war," Alptraum mutters. "Charo, you don't happen to have a bottle 'o poodles to suck them into, do you?"

"They are not within my contract," the boatman says, as more spirits rise up out of the mist behind the piper: Gallah soldiers, some of them still carrying disembodied body parts within their glowing outlines. They keep on marching, silent except for the fife.

Arkold rubs his chin, now, as he watches the dead young man approach. "Maybe they'll march on past us. Ah, Charo, do you think they are aware of us?" the man inquires.

"Heh, I wonder if the knife could be used on them. But, that's probably a very bad idea," Alptraum muses, then shakes his head.

"Perhaps," Charo comments. The piper walks right through the tripwires without disturbing them, and certainly doesn't seem to notice the people in front of him.

Alptraum simply moves out of the specter's path. "It would probably be wise if I didn't touch him, eh?" he asks no one in particular.

"Yeah, Bats, let's not pick a fight with an army we can't hurt, who's already dead an' has nothin' to lose," Arkold agrees. He edges out of the ghost boy's apparent path just in case. "That's my thought."

Scooting herself quickly to the side, Tulani makes sure she's not in the way of the line of marching ghosts, and agrees with Alptraum and Arkold as well. "Yeah… good idea, I'd just as soon stay out of their way anyway."

"I'm more worried about getting to see the last moments of his life, how he died, and the pain he felt. Not something I recommend to anyone," Alptraum mutters.

The Gallah boy walks right past them, and even through the still seated Charo. The trees are whipping their branches in frenzy now, the long vine-like structures lashing out at the mortal remains carried by the spirits. The tree next to Arkold manages to snatch a floating hand, which is quickly hauled up out of sight toward the top of the tree - where disturbing gulping sounds soon emanate from.

"Okay, now that's just disgusting," Alptraum notes and looks upwards. "What is this, a baby Smashengrab?"

"Swamp plants often turn carnivorous, due to poor soil," Charo recites.

Arkold looks up, and up … and up, when the tree snatches a dismembered hand. "Think the tree's more a threat than we are," he says slowly, distractedly. "It's like these trees feed on the dead – or, uh, undead, as it were. Good meal, for a Sylvani tree, heh." He stares as the gulping repeats.

"Well, at least it only eats dead things," Alptraum points out.

The trees don't stop the spirits themselves, which begin filing across the campsite. Those that haven't lost all of their body parts are attacked by the trees on the opposite side, which do their best to knock away hunks of decaying flesh.

The Sphynx urks softly to herself at the sight of the hand being pulled away and the noises soon after. Looking slightly ill, she still turns and nods in agreement with Alptraum.

Arkold watches tree after tree consume its meal, then suddenly shrugs. "Think of the positive: it's good somethin' cleans up these roaming graveyards," he offers.

"Great place you picked to stop, Charo. Zombie buffet, open all night. Grab what you want, they're dead and don't care," Alptraum notes and makes a face. He then grins at Arkold and says, "Good point."

Those trees that have caught a meal begin to go still, and the rows of soldiers that follow are considerably fleshier than the early ones. Some of them even have heads, and these seem to take notice of the living – or at least turn towards them.

Arkold, getting stared at by one of the soldiers, lifts a hand in a hesitant wave. "'Ey, mind your head," he offers, pointing up.

Alptraum waggles a finger at them in a 'Don't you even think it' fashion.

One soldier, possessed of his arms, head and legs (but no torso) actually stops next to Tulani, and raises up the pommel of a broken saber for an inept attempt at stabbing the Sphynx.

Tulani looks slightly queasier as more soldiers arrive, and these still holding together somewhat. She thinks about sitting before one of them tries to take a swing at her. The Sphynx blinks in surprise then quickly scrambles out of the way, raising her crossbow as she backs up.

The non-existent blade jabs slowly at the spot where Tulani was, then the piecemeal soldier goes on his way.

Alptraum pulls back a bit, reaching his weapons at hand, claws, to strike in case one of them decides to make a move for him or any of the sleepers.

Arkold frowns over at Tulani, and tells her, "Don't seem to like you Tulani – their loss, eh?" Looking back he notices Alptraum's response, then moves to help cover the sleepers.

Tulani grumbles, "Yeah, But I wonder why he went for me, or that spot, when none of the others before really seemed to bother stopping?" She too, edges by, watching to see if any of the soldiers break away towards the others in the camp.

The more full-bodied zombies tend to drag behind, as if the effort of moving so much dead weight was slowing them down. Most of them don't even bother climbing the steep hill of the island, and end up going around it. But the officers, bringing up the rear, are still proud enough to push forward. A half dozen Gallees, still wearing the rags of their officer's uniforms, pull themselves up the slope.

"Reminds me of the swamp battle back with the pigs, eh?" Alptraum comments to Arkold.

"Maybe you remind him of someone, or that spot does, or he hates women," Arkold offers. Then his ears perk as the officers show their head. "'Ey, the brass. Keep an eye on these guys, they might 'ave somethin' that tells us who they are and what they're doin' – er, were doin'. Orders. Flags. Weapons. Keep an eye on them." He nods to Alptraum in response.

Alptraum nods and keeps a close watch on the officers, looking for a bag to grab, insignias, or anything else of possible importance. "How can anyone hate women?" he asks Arkold absently.

Light and sound travel at different speeds, and the brain plays a little trick to keep sight and sound synced up when someone is talking. The trick is obvious now, as the mouths of the Gallees appear to move just a bit ahead of the voices that sound inside the heads of the of the observers. The effect is made even more disconcerting when the physical remains fail to keep up with the metaphysical imagery. "Who are you?" demands the Gallee in the most expensive looking rags.

Watching the officers carefully for any signs of what Arkold had mentioned, Tulani replies, "Hopefully they'll have some sign of it… but it might be rotted away already… and yeah, Arkold how can-urk… " Whatever the Sphynx was saying cuts off as the zombie Gallee speaks.

"As a man of culture an' thinkin', it's native to me to consider the possibilities, even if I can't comprehend them," the wolf answers the bat. When the zombie speaks, Arkold switches his attention to that one. "Eh … " is all Arkold can respond with on the fly.

"Guardians of the dead. Nothing to see here," Alptraum replies calmly.

"Scavengers you mean, here to loot the bodies of the slain," the poodle accuses, and tries to draw his saber. It's made of metal, not the chitin that the foot-soldiers get, but after so much time in the swamp the basket has rusted into the scabbard, making it impossible to draw.

"We're, uh, checkin' your belongings, to see who you were in life, so that we can, eh … remember your passing," the Jupani insists.

Alptraum flexes his claws. But, he resists actually striking the poodle. "No, I mean guardians. We are not scavengers, thank you. As my friend here says, we are here to learn and carry the memories out," he says.

Tulani actually looks slightly offended by the suggestion of the officer… though not too much as it would be something to expect. She too replies, "It's true… I don't think grave robbers would venture out this far."

"You can remember the passing of my blade through your viscera then," the officer threatens, and keeps yanking on his weapon until his hand finally breaks through at the wrist. "Blast!"

"I'll be sure to remember that," Arkold quips, nodding to the poodle's broken wrist. "Anythin' else I ought to record?"

"Sir, we're falling behind, Sir," notes one of the lieutenants, with a bit of concern.

"Right… let that be a lesson to you then," the Poodle says to the living, his wrist flopping in the hold of his spirit. "Onward, men!" he orders, and starts marching forward once more.

Arkold laughs quietly before remarking, "Right, don't break my hand off pullin' my sword. A lesson for the ages." He continues to laugh, though it ends in a grim and nervous chuckle.

A few of the junior officers glare at Arkold (well, those that still have eyes do) as they march past.

Alptraum shakes his head. "You were right. They're still jerks. Some things never die, eh?" he says to the laughing Jupani.

"The spirit of obnoxious elitism lives on," Arkold agrees.

On the far side of the clearing, the last of the Gallees pass beyond the trees and sink into the mist once more.

The Sphynx just sighs and rolls her eyes, watching as the last of the column disappears. "Yes, quite annoying, but thankfully not dangerous this time."

"They should be gone in another Sphere," Charo whispers. "After the last of their flesh and bone has been claimed by Sylvania."

Alptraum sits back down and shakes his head. "It's funny, but stuff like this doesn't even scare me anymore," he notes.

"It might bother you when you're my age, but it won't be the rot and the undeath that gets you," the wolf explains. He lets his hand slide from the grip of his sword, patting Alptraum on the shoulder. "But you're young still. You poke 'em in the eye next time."

"You may want to light a fire now," Charo suggests.

"Something worse coming?" Alptraum asks Charo.

Watching the bat seat himself, Tulani walks over and sits down next to him long enough to give Alptraum a warm hug, before looking up at Charo, then back to the other two awake, saying, "I'll get a fire going then." And she is soon bustling about doing just that.

The boatman's hood nods. "Yes. The trees have fed, but such a meal generally results in… flatulence."

Arkold groans. "I think I prefer the undead Gallisians. Quick, the fire!"

Alptraum rubs his temples. "This is why it doesn't scare me. It quickly becomes ridiculous," the Eeee notes.

Nothing else crawls out of the swamp before morning, and those who slept through the events of the night respond with raised eyebrows and looks of 'I'd better humor them' when told about what they missed. Camp is broken down quickly, and once more the group is packed onto Charo's low boat and on the move.

The remaining journey across the great swamp is marked by the occasional detour to pick up a spirit, but is mainly filled with stultifying boredom. Once the far shore is reached, the sight of the barren, rocky terrain leading up into the mountains is a welcome relief from the blandness of the swamp.

"I will meet you here when you return," Charo promises, as everyone disembarks.

Arkold stretches his back as he disembarks, resting a hand on his spine. "Eh, all that sitting gives a man the cramps." He knuckles his back a bit, then turns to nod to Charo. "We appreciate the ride: thank you."

Alptraum looks at the mountains, then to Arkold, then back to the mountains. "Arkold … why couldn't you have been born with wings? Or have some grafted on? Or live in a forbidden zone a bit and grow some? It would be so much easier if we could just fly," he teases the wolf. He then turns and waves to Charo, saying, "We hope to see you again."

"Oh, you shouldn't say that," Charo notes. "But you will see me again, of course."

"I'm just not enough of an angel, I guess," Arkold replies to Alptraum.

"Neither am I and I have wings," Alptraum points out. "And heck, Mave is so far from being an angel, well… "

Looking more cheerful than she has in days, Ravenia asks Tulani, "How close are we now? It's good to be on solid ground again."

"I'm sure Arkold thinks Mave is an angel," Tulani quips as she gets off the boat as well, bowing a small thank you to Charo.

"I'm sure Arkold will end up being her cute little servant, too," Alptraum says with a grin and a wink towards Tulani. "We should make a wager on what she makes him wear… "

Mave listens in to the joking, and fills her pipe.

"Knowin' Mave, it'd be nothin'," Arkold says. He walks over to Tulani, too, apparently wondering the same about their distance. He also winks at Mave.

"I never visited the temple in Babel, so I really couldn't say what they wore. And they didn't seem to take much interest in seeking me out, so eh," Alptraum notes and goes to check on Phlagaea.

"Are you disappointed that I wasn't a Yodhinala come to look at you back then?" Phlagaea asks Alptraum, a bit playfully.

"Why would I have been? You're more of a mystery, and those are much more fun to unravel," Alptraum quips and gives alight tug on an exposed bandage.

The Sphynx chuckles and pauses near Raven and Alptraum to pull out the map, looking at Arkold with a grin before unrolling it quietly to take a look.

According to the progress line snaking across the map, the group is practically on top of their destination. It can't be more than a mile or so away.

Phlagaea actually blushes at the flirting, and waves Alptraum off. "Death should not be so romantic," she says.

"Well, look at that. We're almos' there. Huh." Arkold reaches over and taps the destination with a finger. "Who knows what's between us and that, though. We'd best be ready for anythin'. Somethin' like this won't be guarded lightly, an' remember we're dealin' with a lot of magic, as well as a pile of the divine an' infernal."

Tulani looks between the spot marking their destination, and the area on the map they began in, murmuring, "Well, we certainly have covered a lot of ground. According to the map we're quite close. Most definitely time to be careful." And the Sphynx gives Arkold a friendly punch on the shoulder in agreement.

The route ahead is rough looking, with a split in the mountains looking to be the obvious path to follow.

"Heh. You should read some of the novels that are popular here. You'd change your mind," Alptraum notes with a teasing grin.

"Want me to go first through the trail, then? Good ears and all," Alptraum offers.

"Could be this tomb resides in a valley or chasm, which seems fittin' for a grandiose burial ground for a legendary figure. Plus, it'd be secluded, not somethin' you'd easily come across," the wolf advises. He smiles at Tulani before stepping aside from her, and turning in the direction of the rift. "Well, best be off then."

"I'd worry about the winds," Lilith points out, looking at the high, weathered peaks. "A sudden downdraft, and that'd be it for you."

Lucy follows after Arkold, with Mave and Phlagaea at her side.

"I didn't say I was going to fly. I'm going to walk," Alptraum notes and starts slowly towards the rift, deciding to just walk parallel with Arkold.

Looking up and then at the cliff the Sphynx notes, "Yes, not the safest place to get a check from above. Sound checks along the trail would probably be a good caution this close to the place. A sound check might uncover something hidden, or magically concealed possibly?" The last sentence said in general to the various Eeee in the company.

Beyond the rubble and boulders that first impede them, the path between the mountains becomes remarkably flat and clear. In fact, it must certainly have been a well-maintained road in the past – there are even wagon ruts worn into the stony ground.

"Alp can join me at the front, an' we can take it from there. An' here, look, a wagon trail. Stands to figure they'd have needed somethin' to carry buildin' materials along, 'course it's also possible they reused an' existing site that had been abandoned," says Arkold.

"Agreed," Alptraum says to Tulani. "Let me know when the map seems to think we're close and I'll echo scan. Though, hm, perhaps the earlier, the better. There might be pitfalls along here."

Tulani nods and keeps the map in hand to check it as they get closer.

If only the map had a zoom function. The trail twists and turns to follow the natural break, and there a few false alarms caused by gravel and small debris spilling down the walls. At one point, the cliff walls come so close as to nearly block out the sky, but eventually open up again. A final turn brings them to a small, steep-sided canyon.

Arkold squints up at the rock face, nodding as if he expected to see it – which he almost did. "See, 'ere, this is what I'm talkin' about. Looks like they 'ad an old outpost here, but that must 'ave been an age ago. We can make camp here if we need to, if this isn't it. Looks defensible," he says.

"Looks like you were right, Arkold. Existing building," Alptraum notes to the Jupani. His ears flick and pan around curiously. "Even if it doesn't have traps, these are perfect places for animals and monsters to have moved in. Great. I agree with Arkold, let's find a place to fortify as a shelter, then plan how we want to explore. This is probably going to get … interesting."

Tapping the map lightly before putting it away in a pocket, Tulani nods, looking quite ready to set up a space to camp for shelter. "Well, this is it according to the map. I wonder what we'll find?"

"Dead things, I imagine," Phlagaea mutters. A chill breeze blows down off of the mountains, making the gaping holes of the edifice moan.