OOC: Probably someone who removed their post

(Aye. Some random person that just kinda popped in out of nowhere)

Rhaecus's body hovers in that position for a few moments even as his support has removed himself, as if he had been expecting it. He turns his attention to the centaur who had just recently boarded. "Ah, a centaur priestess, and a beauty no less! Now that, that is a rare sight. It's a joy to meet you, Arteusa. I have to say, I'm used to your people being generally of a more... untamed disposition. A great blast at parties but not exactly known for discipline or extolling the glory of the divines. Not that I'm complaining, of course."

The ferryman pushes off and begins slowly moving the little boat across the water. The fog soon encompasses the boat, and there's nothing but the boat and the grey waters, the only bit of color coming from Charon's faded cloak and hat.

"I'm supposed to be givin' you all some little introductory speech as we go, but I really can't be bothered, and you've already payed me, so I really haven't been doing it as much this past century. Uhh... don't go in the water, don't pet the dog, don't even think about takin' his food, don't cut in line, yadda yadda ya. You're all probably heading to Asphodel anyways, though, so I really couldn't care less."

(Mobile - power went out after all)

Arteusa smirks, looking around at them all. "Ah, you will find no preaching or extolling here, friends. I am war-bred in both lineage and glory," she explains, uncrossing her arms. "Nike blessed me and my blade, but I fight for those who fight beside me." 

Donos looks around sharply when Charon mentions Asphodel.

"Hmm. If I was truly dead I would be troubled by that statement, Boatman. That dark and gloomy meadow, lacking in all mirth, may be acceptable for some but not for the likes of me."

He draws himself up to his full height, albeit all of 5'3", and swells his chest out.

"I am a hero. I am destined for the Elysian plain."

Then he exhales and looks around.

"That is of course when life finally passes from my lips."

But there is something nagging at the back of his memory. A dinner. A ruling council noble. His beautiful wife. But he can not remember if that ended well or poorly.

Rhaecus does a little jig on the spot, his hooves tapping out a fun series of clip-clops. "I must agree with the hero on that account. An eternity without cheer and filled with boredom is so much worse than death! I feel like we'll get along... Swimmingly." He winks at Donos with a lopsided grin plastered over his face. "But you are not dead, you say? Then you truly must be a hero, for the only ones who descend into land of the dead while being decidedly not dead... Well, their names are told in song and poetry across the world."

Donos does not care for these seeds of doubt creeping in to his mind. That dinner definitely did not end well. But how badly is the true question.

"I must admit that I do not feel like my true self here. Many a song was sung and many a poem was scribed about my deeds. You could not enter a tavern in all of Atlantis without hearing one of them. The Tale of the Kraken's Cut was truly memorable."

He pauses. The wife recited a poem. That he remembers. And then he toasted her. And then . . . and then here.

"But I feel but a shadow of the man who did make that cut in the kraken."

Turning to Donos, Zaela shakes her head, and says, "I'm truly sorry, Fish Boy, but we are truly dead. I would know more than anyone else aboard."

"Yes," Arteusa agrees, looking down at herself, a faraway look on her face. "I quite remember my death. There were a lot of arrows." 

"Oh, you got arrows?" Zaela asks, "I was crushed to death. It was quite painful."

"Venom," Rhaecus chimes in, "From the Hydra of the Saronic Islands. We danced a merry jig together, we did. Unfortunately the Hydra did not appreciate the exercise and so repaid me by nicking me with its venom." He sighs and shakes his head.

The Changeling takes in the tales of deaths from the other companions on the ship. With a placid look on her face, she remarks; “Poison? How adorable. That makes three of us. I downed a vial of Hemlock,” and returns to her trademark lucid, patronising grin.

“This is much to ponder,” Donos says as he watches the grey waters pass by the boat.

”How much farther, Boatman? And where dost thee delivery us to?

"Ma Aïdes, you're a talkative bunch. Ain't you been taught on the subject? It's beyond the gates for you, to be judged and hopefully tossed in Tartarus."

After a short while, the other side of the river is visible through the thick fog, and you can make out the gate to the underworld. It is not much to look at, just a simple metal gate, yet there' s something imposing about it. Beyond the gate, you can see a long, orderly line of people, stretching into the darkness. Curled up on a cushion, to the side of the open gate, is a small, furry shape, surrounded by many signs and warnings, all along the lines of  'don't pet the dog if you want to keep your legs'. Charon brings you in, and souls begin to leave the boat, joining the line.

"Do me a favor. Go pet the dog. See what happens. Now get outta my boat."

Donos hops off the boat, adjusts the pack on his back, rests his trident against his shoulder and heads towards the gate and the small furry shape. 

"I will admit, that if this really is the gate to the underworld, I would have expected Cerberus to be a more daunting presence."

He looks around for the group from the boat. He has not made his mind up about the quiet satyr yet, There is something dark in that one. The one with drum could be tiresome but will likely provide some amusement yet, and it is likely the brash exterior hides a watchful eye. And any way, from all appearances Donos is unlikely to avoid him. The centaur seems capable enough and is sure to have wildly entertaining war stories. And the sharp tongued changeling, that one makes him laugh but is likely to stab him when he isn't looking. I wonder what 'she' really looks like.

"This line can not be for the likes of us. How do we go around it?"

Zaela gets off the strange riverboat, and sees the small dog. She moves slightly towards it slowly, her staff filling her with dark energy for a brief moment. The shadows of the Underworld seem to form around her form, which stands at about 5 feet and 2 inches. She walks to about 12 feet from the dog, and says calmly, "Hello, Cerberus. Aren't you a good boy? I promise, I won't touch you, but I always wondered what you'd look like. You're such a mighty beast." 

She will also make an animal handling check to avoid being attacked by the dog:

Wow, okay. That was a natural 20. 

Humming to herself, the Changeling takes out a large, ornate dagger, and stares at her eyes. As if she was bored, she attempts to infuse the irises with as many colors as she can, unblinkingly glaring at the reflection made from the blade. After entertaining herself for some time, she realizes the boat has stopped, and it is time to depart.

Exiting the boat, she sidles past Charon and cannot help donning a mockingly pouting face and giving a snide remark. "Poor, poor Charon, warning us about spending the rest of eternity in Asphodel. Tell me, how long have you been stuck rowing this boat?"

Mirthlessly laughing, she returns back to her normal visage, daintily hopping off the boat onto the ashy surface below. What a miserably boring place. Glancing around at her fellow companions, she considers her company for the present being. That Triton over there is cute, but by the Gods - he's worse than Hubris, he'll be easy to manipulate. Now looking at the majestic Centaur, she remembers her time as a priestess for the temples. I'm glad for her commitment to the same cause I perished for, but I doubt she has experienced her god betraying her as I have. Time will see if I can bear her presence. Turning her head towards the Triton's nearby companion, she notices the stark contrast between the two Satyrs that have accompanied the vessel. The one with the drum is intriguing - at least he has the decency to look around before boasting his name everywhere. The other one, though - I have the most respect for; there's something about her demeanor and actions that inspire a feeling of wisdom and experience that nobody else exudes.

Observing her treatment of the rather pitiful image of Cerberus, being a touch incongruous with how the Changeling expected Cerberus to appear based on the stories she has heard. For the first time sounding earnest, she claps her hands and makes a slight whistle at the Satyr's performance with the dog. 

Arteusa steps carefully off the boat, feeling some relief at having solid ground beneath her hooves again. She's not a creature built for boat travel, and her shaky legs show it, though she masters herself after a moment. She follows Zaela towards Cerberus, admiring him with a delighted grin. "Oh, what a mighty, fierce creature," she all but coos, resisting the urge to ignore the signs and reach out. "I have heard many a tale of you," she informs the dog before turning towards the line of souls. "I do hope my men were judged well."