This post was last modified: Nov 1, 2024 at 5:02 PM by Spooks?.

---

Within the spiraling tower looming above, now devoid of the immediate presence of the Director and his subordinate, the group of survivors were deep in discussion…



What are we waiting for? C’mon, we have to stop this!



Yeah, I know you’re in your suicidal era - and I respect that. Ballsy. But we can’t just blindly haul ass through four floors of god knows what. Without a plan, we’re not gonna get much done if we end up dead in the woods, swarmed by ghosts, or I dunno, drowning or something.



Though invigorated you may be by the proceedings, I maintain that we need be cautious as we tread towards the unknown. The target we seek is yet layered behind countless other beasts, scampering about in the cloying glow of the heavens.

Naught but one mistake may cost your very soul as we venture forth - without preparations and a scheme of a most ingenious nature, to advance would be most dea-

He pauses as the lobby doors swing open, the collective heads of the group swiveling to see someone silhouetted in the light beyond - though the distinct shape of a fedora on their head and a whip by their side made the identity of the figure clear.

Indiana Jones takes a step inside, squinting his eyes around the distorted Lobby as his head bobs up and down with analytical intent.

Calmly stepping through the crowd, he snatches a whiteboard marker from the remnants of the front desk and waves Spooks over, requesting that he display the facility’s new layout once more. Despite his extended stay out in the isolation of the Depths, the old archaeologist was far from disengaged - and he had a plan.

They just had to trust him, and despite a few nervous glances and unspoken words of hesitance from the others... they didn't have much of a choice.



The plan was simple, at least on paper - well, the closest thing to paper they had on hand. Split up, reboot the seals, then regroup and move on. Smaller groups would be preferred over solo runs, but with the right preparation and with the Anomalies accounted for, going it alone would be viable for smaller areas. Ghosts of course, couldn't be accounted for - save for ensuring there were bullets to spare - with the other Spooks and Lyra both in the same boat, except with gunfire traded out for the Esotera-charged weaponry carried by Columbo.

The little heropon sighs, dumping out his secretive pillowcase of random junk - allowing the group to choose their respective guises, though his pleas that the others not wear too many and therefore break his forbidden action seem to fall upon deaf ears in the midst of the scramble. Clearing the way with her hammer in an attempt to get into the pile first, The Mask of Mountains went to Tinkaton, with Indiana Jones choosing the fishlike Mask of the Sea next.

Much to her confusion, Morgan picks up a mask resembling Astrid's face - while Konata carefully lifts a wooden mask from the pile. Finally, Riki approaches Columbo, holding one last mask - one resembling Dodo's face.The detective takes the mask from the little nopon's hand, and after gathering up the rest of his belongings once again... Riki dons a mask of his own, a mask hewn roughly from a dinosaur's skull.

With one final glance, a shared look of determination and understanding of each of their tasks... the group breaks apart.

As Riki, Nancy, and Konata head up the stairs with Astrid towards the chasm gatekeeping the Telluric Seal. Morgan and 23 walk westwards into the Arboretum. The value in clearing a path to the stairs could not be overstated - and there was a certain prisoner worth checking on, after all. Who better to take on these tasks... than the two strongest fighters of the group?

Columbo... simply turns around and walks out the front door, fixing the Dodo Mask to his face as he ventures outside and towards the now-Sunken security gate out front.

As for the rest... Dexter leads Indiana Jones, Tinkaton, and Nashu towards the eastern door - and the presumably unguarded hallway leading towards the Lounge and the Somatic Seal beyond. Surely, he thought,... it's just the Lab Passage, right? Surely would be a nice, simple jaunt towards the Lou-



Ah shit. Here we go again.

This post was last modified: Nov 1, 2024 at 2:47 AM by Spooks?.

Somewhere unknown in the facility...







So... all we have to do now is sit idly by and wait for one of the living dead to deliver the Codex... Kyahahahaha... Talk about a genius motive, I almost wish I'd thought of that! A whole supply of free labor... any scientist's dream. Still, if it's so easy to bring back the dead... You'd better still be honoring our deal.



Hm? Oh yes.

Your friend, Phenera. While her soul may power my existence in its current state, there will be no purpose for me once I have obtained the Codex and returned my master to this world. I will make it my last act to return your "faithful laboratory assistant" to the realm of the living as well, free to research together to your heart's content in my master's new world.



However, I suggest you not place so much faith in the spirits that roam these walls. Many are but fools, defying salvation in favor of assisting those that yet live. Others are simply incompetent, devoid of use to our goal. There is a 98.2% chance that we will have to involve ourselves in the events of this evening, lest your Director succeed in his goals and eliminate me before I am able to aid you in her revival.




...But it is no matter. I believe the unique makeup of her soul will serve us well as I draw upon its power. To think, they sacrificed not only an Anomaly, but one so rich in Chaotic energies. I calculate that it would be a waste to not utilize her inherent abilities.

By the power of primal chaos itself, I invoke this rite - or in other words... let's roll the dice!

RANDOM ROLE UNLOCKED

+You may choose any room to start in each night with the exception of player bedrooms.
+You can projectile vomit bullets. These can kill but if bodychecked your breath will smell like gun powder.
+If a living player has this ability, the following effect may take place. Weather Effect (Erruption): At the start of the night a random room will errupt, spraying lava and smoke everywhere. On the following day it will have cooled.
+Increased jump height.
+Once per night you can parry an attack on you. The attack will be reflected back at the attacker and possesses the same killing intent. This does not apply to the Golden Gun.
+Can vaporize anything you get a firm hand or grip on. A pile of ash proportional to size is left there and cannot be destroyed. If the object was a player the ash cannot be removed from the room.
-Bright lights stun/blind you
-Every night you must slap at least two other players on the ass and call them sexy

Just up the stairs to the Upper Landing, meanwhile, the group cautiously approaches the door to the Chasm - and the Seal Chamber that lay beyond. Unlike most of the others... this seal wouldn't affect anyone once they turned it back on. The wielder of its power was unfortunately long-dead now, and even if she came back, the seal's energy had dissipated at the moment of execution. As far as their options went, this was a solid first pick.

Nancy opens the doorway with a swipe of her card, Astrid and Konata carefully stepping inside once they were sure that the door didn't open directly over the chasm part of the chasm. Though it was just as dark in this strange indoor cavern as it was when it was several stories underground, the faint amber color emanating from the doorway on the other side was a good sign.

Ignoring Riki's mounting anxiety over the sheer depth of the thing, Astrid approaches the chasm's edge, squinting as she tries to get a look around in the cavern's dim light.



Ugh. Guess dad wasn't nice enough to bring the bridge up here too... We definitely can't... jump over there, and I'm not gonna try pole vaulting or... praying there's one of those invisible "leap of faith" bridges like in the movies. I almost wish the goose was still around, at least it could probably fly...

As Riki tries to pull Astrid away from the ledge to no avail, Konata nudges Nancy, asking if she has any smoke bombs on hand. After a moment of thought and checking her pockets - of which she had far more of than Konata had thought possible for her outfit, she hands the girl two small, round objects.



You know, I really don't think you should set those off when we're so close to such a dangerous fall. Those are mostly meant for combat situations, and I wouldn't want anyone to fall and get themselves hu-

Completely disregarding her suggestions to the contrary, Konata strikes a confident pose... and tosses one of the small bombs at the ground.





With a wave across the chasm to the dumbfounded trio on the other side, Konata hurries into the Seal Chamber, approaching the pillar in the center of the room and the small terminal that sat next to it, taking care to step over the various winding tubes that lined the chamber's floor.

Determination in her eyes, she lays her hand on the terminal's panel... and the Seal Chamber illuminates fully once more, sending a quaking ripple through the facility as it hums to life.




The Telluric Seal has been enabled.

---

Upon the lonely waters of the Underground Lake - now instead situated somewhere on the third floor - the writer Alan Wake sits within the confines of the Lighthouse he devised himself, his fingers gently tapping away at the keys of his antique typewriter. His tales thus far, and the manifestations they brought, certainly may have caused their share of troubles to say the very least - but nonetheless...

He wasn't one to leave a story unfinished.





As he makes his final keystroke, he tears the final page from the typewriter and stands up, pushing his chair away from the repurposed workbench he'd taken to calling his "writing desk". All that remained now, was to wait for this story to come to life like the countless stories before. The lights flicker ominously as Alan folds up the page and slips it into his rear pocket.

Ah, good. That's a good sign. Even in death, he still had the gift. Or the typewriter had the gift, but he preferred not to think of it that way.

Before he could finish that thought, it is swiftly dispatched by a flood of shock and pain. With a bloody crack and flash of yellow, the blunt side of a sizeable rigging hook collides with the side of his head, knocking him backwards into the desk and sending the typewriter clattering to the floor - the writer's limp, unconscious body not far behind.

The attacker, clad in a large yellow raincoat, returns the hook - and the sleeve from which it emerges - to their side, sparing only a moment to wipe off the vestiges of blood with their other hand before trudging towards the door. The glow of the Esotera-laden water glints menacingly off of the figure's hooked hand as they cast their gaze across the lake, towards the shore on the other side. The assault on the writer was collateral, he was just a useless ghost at the end of the day - though it was best to have him temporarily out of commission regardless, just to be safe.

No, the figure's sights were set on something far greater in scope.

This post was last modified: Nov 1, 2024 at 8:33 PM by Spooks?.

For Dexter and his comically large group of allies, the trek down the twisting Lab Passage wasn't really as bad as it first may have seemed. Though the hallway spiraled at strange angles and the grasping tendrils of the lake monster snaked out from underneath the grate from which a waterfall poured, simply hugging the leftmost wall and keeping their footing steady seemed to be good enough.

They proceed in a single-file line, only breaking formation to cautiously step around the oversized slug as it ineffectually waves its eyestalks in their direction and begins a very slow approach. Tinkaton spares the slug a look of pity, though Spooks urges her to continue moving, lest the "dangerous anomaly" cause some sort of "hazardous incident".

As the group reaches the door of at the end of the hall - the locus upon which each of the winding tubes trailing this wing of the facility converges, Nashu takes the lead as they enter the Lounge. Retrieving a gun from Tinkaton's stash and holding it at the ready as they she rushes inside, she's followed by the rest of the group - each readying their weapons for whatever threat lay within. As their eyes adjust to the dim light... their determination turns to relief (and slight embarrassment), their weapons lowering when they take in the sight.

The Lounge was... completely normal, devoid of all barriers - save for a boom box and a number of rats scattered in its vicinity, their ears twitching in tune with the birthday music blasting from the speakers.

As another rat appears next to the stereo, Dexter rolls his eyes, walking over and switching the thing off while Indiana Jones ushers the rest of the group into the Somatic Seal chamber. Approaching the terminal in the center of the room, the old man slams his hand down upon the panel - and the room is once again bathed in a soft, pink glow.



The Somatic Seal has been enabled.

---

The group returns to the lounge, preparing to exit into the winding hallway once more... but Dexter takes pause, turning his head towards the bar at the room's opposite end. Telling the others he'll meet them back in the Lobby, he takes a seat, slowly pulling out his usual stool and pouring himself one last glass of ginger ale. Swirling the ice inside his glass, he takes a slow, wistful sip, staring downwards at the bar's countertop... as the ghost of Dr. Niles Crane begins to manifest behind the bar, polishing a wine glass.

Dexter meets the specter's gaze through the gloom, and a slight, sad smile begins to cross his face as he recognizes the ghost standing before him.



...Hey, doc. Guess they weren't kidding about the whole ghost thing.

Hell of a night, isn't it? Eleven days... five since they took you out. Feels like it's been forever.

You really were Crimson Eye, huh? Probably shoulda figured that out on my own, but I guess that's the problem with trusting my gut. One way or another, it usually ends up leading me in the wrong direction. Isn't that fuckin' ironic, huh? Touting myself as some kind of hot-shot paranormal investigator this whole time, but really... I blow at it.

Every theory I've put out there ends up being wrong. You were crimbo, Dodo was Abyss Team, and Pea... yeah, he was a good dude I guess, even with everything he was keeping to himself. Not like I'm one to talk either, considering I worked for the bureau of crazy magic shit. Didn't even ask any questions, just sat around on this stool, watching TV until they needed me to do something.

Not exactly in a position to judge anyone, especially not a crimbo. At this point, who's to say that giving you guys the codex wouldn't have been better than leaving it with Sinclair and his freaky goon? Tch, whatever. Too late now, right?

I don't have a lot left, doc. My new career's up in smoke even if I make it out of here, and like hell I can go back to showbiz. I don't have any friends left, any relationships to hold onto. I'm as good as dead, one way or another. I think that's why I gotta finish this though, right? To do something that actually matters, leave a mark that's not gonna fade when they cut the reruns.

...You didn't just come here to pour yourself a glass of wine and watch it all fall apart, did you? Yeah... I know you're gonna go for it. The same thing I assume every other ghost is going for. Resurrection, whether by murder or codex. Heh... can't even blame you. I think I'd do the same.

After a glance around the dimly-lit room to ensure the absence of any prying ears, Dr. Crane leans in towards Dexter, making a single plea towards his old friend - a truce, a pact of mutual non-aggression, for whatever comes to pass. He extends a hand, awaiting Dexter's response. After a moment of thought, of staring off into space behind closed eyelids... Dexter sighs.



...I can't make that kind of promise. Not now. It's not about life or death, it's about the Codex, and... another promise I made. The book... you have to leave it alone, you can't let that fucking cat take it, no matter what he's offering you. As for the other method... Sinclair's daughter, hell, even ol' bird brain... if I'm putting together the pieces right for once, they've been through enough.

Anyone else? I... won't stop you. But I won't help either. I don't need blood on my hands, and at that point... it'll be just the way the dice fall, right? This whole thing's just been the luck of the draw so far... what makes this any different?

...

So... I guess it's a truce, yeah. Whatever.

Niles, whether sincere or not, nods in agreement to the terms presented by the investigator. Dexter hesitantly meets Niles' hand with his own, giving a firm shake before pushing out his bar stool and heading to meet the others in the Lobby. As Niles watches the investigator leave, he smiles quietly to himself, putting away the wine glass he had been polishing and reaching below the bar for something else.

Retrieving his yellow raincoat, Niles dons the oversized garment and matching hat, hefting his heavy rigging hook from its place hidden beneath the counter. As his apparition begins to fade for now, his smile turns to a sneer - then a laugh, his eyes beginning to glow a deep red.

Indeed, he thought to himself, the Crimson Eye weren't out of the game yet. Not by a longshot. And though his desire for a truce with Dexter was genuine enough...

Well, He still had more than a few tricks up his sleeve - starting with his signature ability.

As the others conclude their seal-related business, Morgan and 23 creep through the Arboretum, hacking and slashing at the Esotera-gorged vines strangling the path ahead. If nothing else, the slug seemed to have vacated the area long ago, leaving little in the way of threats beyond the inherent risk posed by unknown, potentially poisonous or otherwise dangerous plant life.

Cutting through a wall of thin ivy, the duo finds themselves at the northern doorway - only the Holding Cell and the elevator beyond now in front of them. Morgan begins to charge forth, but 23 holds him back with one arm, urging him to remain silent for now.



Halt. One moment.

The inspector's gambit seemed to have an effect upon the girl, though we know not to which degree. Clarity of mind, or a deeper madness than before. Should her actions only a short time ago serve as an example, she may still be within the thrall of the vile codex. Ready your weapon, just in case. We know not the skillset she has inherited from her accursed mentor.

Morgan nods, readying his gun and following the hunter slowly - before loud, thundrous footsteps from inside the Holding Cell rumble outwards, causing the two to press themselves against the wall for cover as they continue inching forward. Reaching the door, the pair of anomaly hunters wrench the cell's doors open, weapons at the ready as they burst inside with the fervor of a strike team.

23's weapon returns to its sheath as he takes a step forward toward the room's resident. Whatever threat they had anticipated... it was not what they had found. Giffany - or Dr. Caster, perhaps - was not alone. Nor was the cell inhabited by some dangerous, unknown Anomaly.

Instead, though 23's mask remains expressionless, as he looks upon the individual currently embracing Giffany, Morgan could swear that he was smiling.

...



Dodo is here!

---

The other two groups, freshly rejoined, stumble into the small hallway outside the Holding Cell, taking advantage of the path carved by Morgan and 23 before them to navigate the overgrown Arboretum. Though nobody could tell exactly why Dexter appeared somewhat perturbed despite the relatively easy trip to the Somatic Seal, it was certain that if nothing else, their objectives were complete and there was little else to do besides ascend to the second floor.

As Giffany, Morgan, 23, and the lumbering specter of Dodo emerge from the cell to join the others... Dexter stares on in a mixture of shock and awe, while Riki lets out a cheer, running towards the colossal bird to wrap him in yet another embrace. After a gentle pat on the nopon's back. Dodo gives Dexter - and the star-shaped amulet he still wore around his neck - a nod of silent acknowledgement, before waddling past the group and into the Leisure Center for supplies.

While their newly-gained strong, silent protector raids the sporting goods, the group begins to fill Giffany in on the plan and what they accomplished so far. Though initially suspicious of her - reasonably so - the group reasoned that... it seemed as though Columbo's condemnation had done the trick, purging her at least temporarily of the influence of the occultic hardware festering within her.

They had gained another ally - and with the Occultic knowledge the mastermind had taught her still intact, despite being stripped of her other abilities. Still though... she needed a soul to use them - preferably one rich in Esotera.

...And as a wet, squelching noise began to approach from the Arboretum... she was provided with exactly what she was looking for.





With a bang, her bullet tears through the slug's soft flesh. It falls to the floor with a sickly splat as Giffany closes her eyes, taking in the Anomaly's stray energy. It's about this time that Dodo returns to the room, armed with javelins, a makeshift kettle-bell-and-rope flail, and a mattress for a shield. Staring at the slug's lifeless body for a only a moment, he shuffles towards the elevator as Indiana Jones presses the button to call it.

Raising the mattress defensively to block any surprise attacks, Dodo ushers the rest inside, boarding last and raising the mattress in front of the collective, facing the doorway to block any surprise attacks once they arrive at their destinations.

The doors slide shut, and the elevator rumbles to life, ascending upwards for far longer than it logically should have. With every second, anxieties spiked ever higher among the group - but there was no turning back now.

Tinkaton grips her meat tenderizer tightly, Riki nervously shuffles his masks, and Dexter ruminates over his encounter in the Lounge - and Dodo's unexpected return. Nashu reloads her firearm, prompting Morgan to do the same, and somewhere far below, Columbo roams the halls of a gloomy library. Regardless though... one thing was clear in the minds of everyone involved as the elevator doors slowly slid open, revealing the dense, impossible forest sprawling before them:

The second floor awaits.

While the presence of the walls by the elevator doors stretching off into the distance indicated that they were indeed still inside, as far as anyone was concerned, the room that sprawled out before them was... impossible. Before them lay a familiar forest, blanketed by dense darkness cast from the impenetrable, ancient canopy above.

Tentatively taking a step forward, Nancy turns on her flashlight and sweeps it across their surroundings, illuminating the trees, strewn and half-merged with the remnants of the Bureau's lightposts - evidently no longer lighting the way to the Relay Station. Morgan steps up along with her, followed by 23, who stands with Dodo ready to play defense in case of a spectral ambush - or an Anomaly getting up in their business. Either way.

Behind them, Riki nudges Nashu, passing her a mask as she coats the blade in her guitar with a poison she nabbed from the Arboretum on her way through. Ugly and piglike, it was a mask she'd seen before. The Mask of the Swine, the "sniffa" of legend. Having no other masks, ergo no risk of triggering Riki's FA, she sets the mask upon her face and takes a whiff, snorting at the ground while Dexter observes with a mixed expression.

Beneath the mask, Nashu's face scrunches up and she removes it, shaking her head. This place, she explains, smells like nothing. Or maybe... like everything? It's hard to describe, but without a scent to track as an example, there's little use for it in this swirling Chaotic nightmare world. Passing it back to Riki, she looks back towards the rest of the group... only to find that they've disappeared, leaving only Riki, Nashu, and Dexter alone in the woods.



Shit... Woods are playing tricks on us. Should've figured, this is a classic setup.

I don't like to guess about this kind of thing, but if ol' Sinclair's got control of this place, I'd expect stuff like this more often. Wrenches in the works, involuntary separation, treacherous terrain, the whole nine yards. Expect the unexpected, I guess.



...Well, no use waiting around here. I dunno if that sniff mask works with the living dead but... maybe you can use this pendant to track Dodo? I dunno, doubt we're gonna be able to get a whole lot done just wandering around in the woods like a bunch of-



Wait a minute... Did you hear that?

As he speaks... a loud, crashing noise rumbles through the surrounding treeline. The trio clusters together for safety, drawing their respective firearms as two forms - one far larger than the other, burst through the dense thicket.



The Crimson Eye's Shadow Mannequin - with the Trapdoor Spider in hot pursuit - sprints towards them, in a bold, suicidal attempt to bait the larger Anomaly into conflict with the isolated wanderers. Riki fumbles in his bag for the Bremen Mask, capable of controlling animals, while Nashu and Dexter take aim at the rapidly-approaching target, shooting off some cover fire.

The mannequin jerkily twitches left and right, the shots whizzing by its head as it continues its breakneck sprint. Sweat drips down Riki's egglike body as he shuffles through the masks with increasing anxiety, when suddenly... a bang erupts in the darkness of the woods, and a spectral bullet pierces the mannequin's head.

It collapses to the ground, sparking and twitching as the spider slowly drags it away, deep into the depths of the Black Forest, leaving the group alone in silence once more. Dexter turns to the source of the ghostly gunshot, a knowing grin spreading across his face as Nashu shouts in surprise upon realizing the identity of their spectral savior.



Approaching the group, Pea's ghost reaches into his pocket, handing Dexter his final Keycard Breaker before pointing somewhere off in the distance, urging the trio to come with him. Without hesitation (unless you count a tearful, nigh-incomprehensible apology from Riki), the three wanderers follow, allowing Pea to lead them deeper into the shaded woods...

Unbeknownst to the trio, they were not the only ones to become separated in the darkness of the forest. On the westmost end of the massive room, Indiana Jones, Barry the Seal, and Spooks stumble out of the woods, the unlikely team having arrived somewhere along the westmost wall of the surrounding room. After shaking some leaves from the top of his monitor, Spooks' sensors light up as he detects the door supposedly leading to Mirror Lake somewhere just to their south.

They continue along the way to their shared destination...



Hello, [AGENT DESIGNATION - INDIANA JONES]. I have realized that this is the first day I have seen you above ground level in a notable span of time. There has been little interaction between the two of us outside of preliminary murder investigation.

...



...I had simply determined that information to be interesting. That is all. This has been an exercise in stress relief via tension-breaking dialogue. I shall cease communication for now.

As they approach the doorway, the archaeologist's usual stony expression remains unchanging, even once he glimpses what lies past the threshold. It was... Mirror Lake. Just like the Black Forest before, this appeared to be the very same lake he crossed by boat days ago, now contained within a single, sprawling room. Moonlight shines down from a splintered sky, a swarming mass of dark and light unable to settle on a single state between ceiling, sky, and Esotera.

Walking across the dock, Indiana Jones eyes the boat, with Spooks in tow and Barry slapping wetly across the wooden surface. As expected, the key was missing from the ignition - though that was something he had planned for. Like hell he was going to the Boathouse to get it, not when Riki had provided an alternate means of traversal. Indiana Jones searched through his satchel for the Mask of the Sea, as Spooks retracted one of his arms, replacing it with a fishing rod-like mechanism.

Indiana Jones paused, looking in his direction quizzically as he pulls the mask from his bag, picking up Barry as he prepares to dive into the water.



Please excuse me, [AGENT DESIGNATION - NASHU MHAKARACCA] requested that I retrieve the XW Void Rifle that had been disposed of in the depths of this lake. As it is an effective weapon against Anomalies, I have determined that there is a 73% chance that this item may serve a purpose to our collective safety, so I have decided that it would be best to comply with her wishes and-



[MALICIOUS CYBER-ATTACK DETECTED - REBOOTING... REBOOTING...]

[ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR]

Suddenly, Spooks seizes up, twitching erratically as an error message begins to flash on his monitor...

---

You have been Blackmailed by the Crimson Eye. Tonight’s account is filled with random [REDACTIONS], and posting a full account of your night will result in immediate death. Any Files you discover will also be given to the Crimson Eye, and you will be unable to post them while blackmailed.

This condition will be removed upon the next night phase.

---

Before Indiana Jones can even react, Spooks begins to flail wildly, his body, head, and arms spasming. With a violent jerking motion, Spooks whips his fishing rod around, clotheslining Dr. Jones and sending him, Barry, and the mask held in his hand straight into the lake with a mighty splash. The archaeologist flails and grasps in the water for the mask, disoriented by the sudden blow, but it just barely slips through his fingers, sinking into the lake's dark waters.

Slowly, as he orients himself amid the waves... thin, white tendrils begin to rise from the lake, surrounding both the old man and the seal.

He grits his teeth and grabs the seal. This wasn't gonna be the end. It was do or die, and god dammit he was already old as shit. He looked the seal square in the eyes. If this useless bastard was gonna do anything, it was now or never. As a ghostly apparition began to manifest on the shore, a man in a horse mask, dancing wildly to a song only he could hear... a faint glimmer of understanding appeared in the seal's eyes.

It was clear what they both had to do. Mask be damned, it was time to swim like hell.





Breaking through the formation of stinging tentacles, Indiana Jones and the seal both began to rocket across the water, the old archeologist's body burning like never before as he pushes it to its aged limits. Splashing side-to-side as he avoids the grasp of BPI-1011, Barry follows suit in a rare display of self-preservation, diving and leaping through the waves while the lake's guardian lashes ineffectively.

The opposite shore comes into view as he paddles on, it's closer than the archeologist expected he would get... but as a wall of tendrils erupts from the water ahead of him, he realizes that he underestimated the sized of the creature. He stops, keeping Barry close as he tries to paddle in the opposite direction, but even behind him, the creature's reach dominates the waters.

When the tendrils begin to close in upon him, in the middle of nothing but open water... he closes his eyes, turning to Barry, who bobs gently in the water next to him. With a nod to the small animal, he takes a deep breath as he reaches out.. and grasps one of the tentacles grimacing through the burning pain of the creature's venom as he activates his Role Power.





You have been Cursed.

You have been afflicted with Sealed.A seal (animal) will, begin in your location at the start of the night. You have to protect it, because if the seal dies, you die too.

---

When he opens his eyes, Barry is nowhere to be seen, and the creature's tendrils withdraw, desperate to protect the seal that now holds its life in the balance. Despite the lingering agony afflicting his hands, Indiana Jones pushes onwards to the opposing shore, finally dragging himself onto the beach. Taking a moment to catch his breath, the old man rights himself, shaking the water from his hat before continuing onwards towards the southern wall - and the path to the Thalassic Seal.

Throwing open the door to the seal chamber, the archaeologist stomps over to the terminal, his soaked boots squelching on the ground as he steps across the tangle of tubes covering the floor. With an exasperated grunt, he slams his hand down upon the screen, and the chamber lights up with a deep blue once again.



The Thalassic Seal has been enabled.