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.

Whether by unfortunate coincidence - or the guidance of fate's cruel hand, the most well-equipped, offensively stacked group... as of yet seemed to have encountered absolutely no issues whatsoever - save for a short-lived encounter with a brown bear that, despite its threatening appearance, was at least intelligent enough to not engage with a group that could easily dispatch it in a moment's notice.

Branches snap and crack, bent aside by Dodo's mattress-shield as he pushes through the thicket, clearing a path eastwards for the rest to follow, Astrid glancing nervously backwards at both the forest behind them... and their missing friends.



I know we were supposed to split up, but... doesn't this seem weird to you guys? I mean... we were all going in the same direction, but...

...I hope everyone's doing okay. Even back then, when everything was normal... I didn't like these woods. Easy to get lost, everything looked the same... and it was so dark I couldn't see more than a few feet in front of my face. Riki... Spooks... and where'd Konata go, I could've sworn she was just here...



Fear not... While sorcery is afoot, your automaton seems nigh-impervious, and should Nashu be in their company, I am sure the others are well. There is naught she cannot handle - I hath trained her in the arts of combat much as I have Morgan and the salmon-stained goblin - and she shan't falter in the face of danger. The girl as well, skilled in the ways of the unseen assassin... Harm will



...The small, rotund one, however... He is likely dead.



23! Where are your manners?!

Don't worry, I'm sure little Riki is just as safe as the others, he's in good hands, I can feel it. Soon enough, we'll see them all again, and-

Dodo stops in his tracks, holding up one spectral wing. The rest pause behind him, Tinkaton in particular gripping her hammer tightly, peering around the large bird and glimpsing a rustling in the nearby brush. Morgan takes a fighting stance, raising his fists as the sound gets closer and closer. As the tension reaches its peak, and the approaching sound is only mere feet away... a soaking-wet Indiana Jones and a frazzled looking Spooks slink into the clearing.

The elderly man grunts in acknowledgement of the others, before producing a jar from his satchel - a herbicide from the Climate Controls he explains -until he's interrupted by Spooks, continuing to wail in despair over his blackmailing. Indiana Jones shakes his head, telling Spooks that blackmail isn't real, and that he thinks he's bluffing. Regardless of the... dubious validity of this claim, they push on, Astrid comforting Spooks as they walk. Before long, they reach the eastmost end of the woods, emerging at the doorway to the Museum Hall.

The group piles into the hallway, herded together in case of wayward threats - such as the conspicuous Red-threat Anomaly supposedly shut in the room at the northern end. Still, the hall remains silent, and the Mound of Bodies nowhere to be seen. Morgan and 23 still keep their eyes locked on the closed door as they move, just in case. Finding the "Library" now rendered into a strange smattering of angular bookshelves firmly planted in ground and divided by the Centipede River, they quickly realize that they'll need to cross the river - and when the Boathouse comes into view... everyone realizes exactly how they'll have to do it.

No... not these again...

Biting the bullet, Giffany sheepishly walks inside and emerges with a raft, inflating it while everyone looks on in vague despair. They knew this day would come, deep within their hearts. Regardless of the evils caused by these rubber devils, they pile into the raft and ford the river. Approaching the thrashing plant in front of the Liturgic Seal, Indiana Jones twists off his jar lid and tosses the pesticide onto the plant. The writhing vines grow more manic and violent in their movements, slamming against the ground and walls... before withering and falling limply to the ground.

Hacking the remnants of the vines out of the way with his knife, 23 leads the others into the darkened Seal Chamber, where a familiar figure waits, illuminated only by the flickering of failing electronics.





...Ah, so you've made it here, have you? Good, good. I'm losing track of times where I've said similar. You should really stop going places.



Outta the way! There's like... 9 of us. I don't care what dad told you to do, or how strong you are, you're outnumbered - and we're turning on that seal, one way or another. Don't make us do this the hard way, I... don't think you'd like that very much!



Quite a bit of misplaced bravado you've built up, but I'm afraid you lack the underlying confidence to be convincing. Still, I'm not mentally deficient enough to think it'd be a good idea to combat the likes of BPI-2300 or his handler, let alone your entire cohort. I would win, of course, but that's beyond the point.

Unfortunate, the situation in which we find ourselves. You've restored what, 2, 3 seals now? Hastur, Alhazred, even you Sothoth, returned from the dead to join the other two in betraying your purpose. I had really hoped you'd cooperate - since the shift to Liturgic I've been feeling considerably less bloodthirsty, after all.



One of many perks, the other of which of course is the influence gained over lesser Liturgic entities.

Oh, and would you look at that - that reminds me! You know, you've taken measures to account for most of the ghosts lingering about, but there's one that I believe you've forgotten about. I wish the detective was here for this little reunion, but the rest of you will have to keep my friend company instead. I've got upper floors to secure. Very important stuff, yes.

In a flash of holy light, the "leader" of the Abyss Team is gone, and in his place... is something pale and feathered, something that makes Morgan's eyes go wide.



HOLY... HOLY... HOLY...

BPI-1000-B eyes up the group facing the Liturgic Seal, the group staring in similar, uncomfortable silence - the sort that stretches seconds into hours. Eyes boring into their souls and head twitching erratically, it looks each of them up and down... until it spots Morgan among the crowd.

The silence turns to screeching madness as the Liturgic thrall breaks its stance with violent fervor, talons skittering against the metallic floor in its scrabble to reach the traitorous apostle. Dodo, raising his shield to hold the line, intercepts the full-body tackle and knocks the creature aside with a blow from his kettle bell flail towards 23, who readies his blade for a single, lethal blow - only to find himself knocked backwards as well, the Liturgic aura of 1000-B repelling him across the room.

Catching itself, the holy bird pivots, reversing its momentum and hurtling back at the group. This time, it leaps onto Dodo's shield, climbing the repurposed mattress and vaulting over the large spirit. Giffany, panicking, tries to weave a Stasis spell, but finds the Occultic magic fizzling out in the presence of both the seal and its guardian. Grinding his teeth together, Morgan plants a foot on the ground and raises his fists, prepared to brawl his old enemy... when a whip coils around the attacker's beaklike face.

Indiana Jones yanks the whip, pulling the creature's head downwards - directly connecting it with an upward hammer swing from Tinkaton, golfing the anomaly across the room.

As the creature attempts to scramble to its feet, Morgan rushes in, beating it back down with an overhead swing followed with a powerful right hook. The holy bird pauses, blood dripping from its mouth, reeling from the hit - and Morgan seizes the opportunity, grabbing it by the throat and slamming its head against the seal chamber's paneled walls. He drags it roughly across the glass, smearing blood across the wall before throwing it to the ground a few feet away.

Morgan takes steps towards the downed monster, which lets out a pathetic squawk and scrabbles backwards across the floor, cowering in fear and cringing as Morgan raises his fist once more. He sighs, lowering his hand and giving a nod toward Nancy, who instead tosses a capture device in its direction - sending 1000-B to the Holding Cell. They'd already killed him once, twice would have been, in the words of the old scholars, "a dick move".

Morgan approaches the terminal, pressing his bloodstained hand on the screen. Suddenly, the room is awash with golden light...

The Liturgic Seal has been enabled.

---

With yet another seal taken care of, the group makes their way back to the Museum Hall - and the staircase awkwardly protruding from the side of the the hallway, ascending over open air with nothing but a railing to prevent them from falling an unspeakable height - certainly more than the two stories they'd climbed would suggest - besides, they were still missing a third of their group.

They didn't have time to wait around though, as the smashing of a door on the other end of the hallway makes everyone jump in surprise. An enormous mass comes barreling down the hall, the hideous, mangled mass of stitched-together skin and teeth known as BPI-2967 - since regenerated after its encounter with the Mastermind in the holding cell - hurtles towards them, knocking over podiums and displays in its ravenous pursuit.

A flaming bottle comes flying out from the Black Forest, colliding with the Anomaly and setting it ablaze. It screams, the cacophonous wail of a hundred human voices sounding through the hall as it retreats back into the room from whence it came. Nashu, the source of the timely molotov, slinks out of the forest, brushing the woodland debris from her clothing. Not far behind are Dexter, Pea's ghost, and Riki, equally covered in the forest's remnants.

Now reunited with both seals broken, the survivors as a whole look as a whole towards the staircase. Precarious? Yes. Huge falling hazard? Probably. The only way up? Definitely.

It was time... for the third floor.

Yet.. still, they couldn't help but wonder. What exactly were Konata and Columbo up to?

This post was last modified: Nov 10, 2024 at 7:32 AM by Spooks?.

Meanwhile, high above the clouds...

---

...So, that's three seals restored...

It's a... surprising display of determination, but then again, Astrid at least... always did have her mother's adventurous streak. The others though... I just don't understand. I've offered them a choice, a path of least resistance... Freedom from the weight of what they've been forced to do. Why would anyone instead choose to do what they're doing? Risking their own lives like this with the alternative available...



Yes, well I hate to interrupt - but make that four seals. Liturgic just went. As it turns out, devoid of BPI-1000's influence, the entity referred to as BPI-1000-B lacks its slavish conviction, even when offered a Liturgic alternative to follow. Quite the shame, I was hoping we could pick up a new Abyss Team candidate in the absence of the mask's power.

Oh well, I suppose there's ample time to experiment once this is over, hm? Rest assured, they won't make it past the third floor - our rearrangement of the facility has situated the most deadly Anomalies in particularly convenient defensive chokeholds. They're unlikely to survive unscathed - if they survive at all.



I've rather been looking forward to seeing if it's even possible to counteract 7103's effects. If only I'd started an office betting pool - I've got a fairly good idea of where the odds lie.



Believe me, I... don't revel in this like you do, you know.

At the end of it all, I'd... like to see them all survive. To comply and... understand the importance of what I'm doing - what we're doing, together as the Bureau of Paranormal Investigation. The world, bathed in Esotera's infinite possibilities... I'd like everyone to see it, no matter what they think of me.



And... Astrid... Seeing her like that... She must really care about these people. I suppose it... probably shouldn't be a surprise. In the Bureau's lifespan, I've seen the bonds built by a Killing Game before, time and time again. But... I never thought she'd be willing to... throw her life away, throw away everything, just to...

...I don't know. Do you think I was too harsh?



Hm? Oh, don't look at me, I'm not your family counselor.

Besides, you know full well they intend to sabotage the single greatest innovation in mankind's history - and risk exposing the Codex to the world in the process, should they actually dismantle our security measures and fail to eliminate the servitor in the process. Your daughter's little tantrum is temporary, and hardly a reason to issue a stay of execution for the rest.



...

...No, perhaps you're correct.



I've spent twenty years on this project, in one way or another. It may have started with her, but... no matter how much I love her... it's not just for Astrid, it's for... everyone now. For the future, for those who've lost their lives, in service of a greater good they believed in - or at the hands of unspeakable tragedy along the way.

For... Stella, and the rest of Whisper Valley... I won't let their deaths mean nothing. To allow the surviving Investigation Team to reach the Codex, it would be an insult to their memories.



Increase security measures from the third floor upwards. Locate that servitor. The detective and the little ninja girl too. Spooks is compromised and no longer compliant? Reactivate our previous AI model and give her full control. Do whatever you have to do. I've given them ample chances to turn back - if they intend to further force my hand, what choice do I have?



...After all, If it really has to be this way... then...

...So be it, right?

...

This post was last modified: Nov 13, 2024 at 8:25 PM by Spooks?.

Between the endless shelves of the library beyond the silver key's door, the Ultimate Detective peruses the shelves, searching for answers through the eyes of his Dodo Mask - his only companion, an unlikely ghost. Pegasus, zweihander propped upon his shoulder, stands watch as Columbo flips through dense tomes. Some, filled with incomprehensible nonsense. Others, errant files and documentation of Bureau experiments.

And... others still, he notes, tossing a book titled Slicer IV down the hall - simply junk fiction.

But he couldn't give up. If this library really contained everything, there had to be some documentation of whatever mysterious illness plagued Astrid Sinclair - and ideally, some kind of cure. Or at least a form of treatment that didn't involve her father's dream of Global Synchronization. Still, the whole thing was a real head scratcher, even for him.

Moving on to a new shelf, he takes a pause as his eyes catch something, wedged between what appeared to be the previous book in the Slicer series, and a strategy guide for a game that, frankly, he had never played. Reaching out, he grabs the end of a file folder and wiggles it out from between the tightly-packed books, stumbling back as he pulls it free.

He opens the file slowly, the papers rustling gently as he begins to examine the writings within...

---

[08/09/2008 Medical Notes - Astrid Sinclair]

[NAME] - Astrid Sinclair
[GENDER] - F
[AGE] - 4 y. 10 m.
[LOCATION OF EXAMINATION] - Whisper Valley Clinic (344 Valleycrest Rd.)
[DIAGNOSIS] - UNKNOWN

[OBSERVING DOCTOR] - Dr. Roxanne Wexlyn

[NOTES] - Sample provided for analysis by father and brief physical examination permitted at above location. Subject displays extreme physical weakness and degradation of internal tissues, in addition to frequent bouts of unconsciousness with no clear cause. Preliminary brain scans requested from primary medical caregivers show no indication of brain trauma, and when conscious, mental cognition is consistent with healthy individuals within her age group.

Symptoms are inconsistent with any known illnesses, and blood sample analysis did not display any sign of infection beyond an asymptomatic occurrence of human rhinovirus (common cold) that does not appear to be causing further damage. Immune system appears consistent with healthy individuals within her age group.

Interestingly, examination of her file indicates her conditions improving under unlikely and strange conditions, with effects that are unexplainable by conventional science. Subject is noted as having symptoms improve, disappear, or even reverse for a time upon the passing of another individual situated within the healthcare facility that the subject resides within. Subject's father additionally recounted a story in which he visited subject with a "cursed" artifact on his person recovered during his work. Allegedly, subject's symptoms began to display similar regression for a short time and the artifact in question supposedly lost its "cursed" qualities. Veracity of these claims is unconfirmed and this claim has no scientific basis.

[CONCLUSION] - If I may speak in a somewhat less formal manner, while this is purely speculative and should not have a place in determining the subject's treatment, discoveries made by the subject's father and my own brother in the town of Whisper Valley have lead me towards an interesting theory as to the nature of the subject's illness. Qstian mythology repeated by settlers in the area speaks of a "great plague" with symptoms far more reminiscent of the subject's state than any diseases that exist in scientific record. A supernatural illness - perhaps more easily defined as a curse - that attacks the soul, causing the body to fail in turn as the soul is drained from the body.

The existence of the "soul" is something that has not been proven, yet the presence of the city underneath the mines and the state of the bodies discovered within lend additional credence to these stories. While ancient, the bodies are well-preserved enough to observe similar symptoms and eventual cause of death to the subject. Truly a curious matter, though if this has any link to the subject's condition, it is unknown as to how she would have contracted it, seeing as neither of the subject's parents have visited the Whisper Valley area before current events. Potentially hereditary but dormant, or perhaps a coincidence.

Regardless, this requires further study. While the bodies in the underground city are too desiccated to leave any traces of this supposed disease beyond physical, it is possible that the frigid regions of Qstia itself contain more information on the subject. Furthermore, if this discussion of the "soul" has any truth to it, it presents an interesting hypothesis. If the soul consists of a certain energy, it is possible that the reason the subject's conditions improved in those specific cases is the presence of additional energy in the form of the souls of the recently departed or the "curse" within the artifact.

Yet, if the soul and body are tied together to the extent that the drainage of the soul may cause the body to die, then it stands to reason that should the body and soul be bound together by artificial means, it could prevent or potentially even reverse death - if the earlier hypothesis is correct and death does cause a pseudo-tangible soul to exit the body is correct. High potential for medical application of this concept if further explored.

Columbo finishes reading, just as a hand clamps down hard on his shoulder, spinning him around. Pegasus, gripping him like his un-life depends on it, stares at him, wild-eyed and anxious. Columbo asks him what's wrong, and the master duelist releases his grip, though his expression doesn't change. Looking around wildly, he pulls Columbo under a table. Leaning in close, Pegasus whispers into the detective's ear, claiming that he just heard something. Evidently, they aren't alone in here.

Columbo opens his mouth to reply, but quickly falls silent and lies flat on the ground beneath the table as a glowing, white figure comes into view from around the corner, draped in a black-and-purple coat.

---

Oh, detective... I know you're in here.

Don't forget, you're merely borrowing Sothoth's key. We created that key, you know. This entire little library, just a speck on our collective maps of the esoteric. One way or another, I will find you. The director wants you people alive, you know - but he never did specify beyond that.



So that leaves our options open, doesn't it? You can't hide forever, why not make it easy?


Columbo and Pegasus' ghost stay flattened under the table until their seeker slinks around another shelf and slowly disappears from eyesight and earshot. Clutching the file in his arm, the detective climbs out from their hiding place and pulls Pegasus after him, allowing the Dodo mask to lead them through the winding shelves towards a doorway. Inserting his Silver Key, he throws open the door, taking a step through...

To Water Filtration - on the 3rd floor.

Taking a moment to breathe, Columbo remarks that his body isn't quite what it used to be. Pegasus, both being a ghost and wielding a greatsword, seems to have no such qualms. Regardless, they... mostly got what they came for - though Columbo's expectations were always fairly low on that front. Most importantly, he was alive, and right in position to meet up with the others. Stashing the file in his coat, he turns for the door to the northern hallway - when his blood runs cold.




Hello.



I have been permitted to "begin in whichever room I choose". I have chosen the room in which you have decided to emerge. How convenient for my own purposes. I have been waiting a long time to meet with you again, ever since our encounter in the forest.

If this body possessed the capacity for pain, it would have been extremely painful. Thankfully, you are human - therefore that capacity is fully present and inherent in your person. I calculate that it will be a memorable experience when I inflict similar upon you.

And then you will cease to exist.


Columbo backs up, drawing the Liturgic spear that slew the mastermind. The servitor in the cat's body smiles, the smile growing ever wider before its mouth opens - and a hail of bullets flies towards the detective. He takes a low stance and braces for impact - but impact never comes. Pegasus, zweihander held high, dodge-rolls through the projectiles in front of the detective and shields him, swinging the sword wildly, each bullet clanging against the sword's magicked steel.

When the spray of bullets ceases and the dust settles, Pegasus lowers his sword, looking up and glancing around the room. The mechanical cat... was gone. A sigh of relief barely escapes Pegasus' mouth, when a dark blur streaks across the room - directly towards his backside.



With a mighty, open-handed slap, the servitor strikes Pegasus on the rear - evaporating him instantly in a burst of Chaotic energy, landing with a skid across the floor and it stands up and once again faces the detective. Once again smiling wide, the whirring of a minigun revving up emanates from the little demon's mouth - before the door to the Underground Lakefront bursts open with a bang, and a huge, metallic fist collides with its diminutive body, knocking the cat through the door to the northern hall and knocking the detective on his ass in a scatter of dust and debris.

As the debris clears, Columbo sees BPI-7222, the Deep Colossus, standing in the doorway with its arm outstretched in an exaggerated punching motion - flanked by a familiar man. The writer Alan Wake - or his ghost at least, extends a hand downward, helping the detective to his feet as the duo peer out the northern hallway, scanning it for any sight of the malicious Spooks.

The sight of an empty hallway devoid of any trace of the cat has the duo exchange a nervous glance, simultaneous pits growing within their stomachs. As they direct the Deep Colossus to take the lead, Alan and Columbo follow the clanking titan slowly as they set out into the hall themselves in search of the others. Scanning every nook and cranny for a sign of the little bastard, their movement is indescribably slow and cautious... yet necessary. One slip up, and it would all be over.

After all, the need to watch your ass had never before been quite so literal.

Despite the inherent nerve-wracking nature of the narrow staircase awkwardly jutting out the side of the building, ascending over nothing but open air - the larger group on the second floor makes their way upwards, squeezing their way up in a single-file line. At the back of the pack, Riki grips the rails tightly, inching forward. At this point, he deeply regretted leaving the Mask of the Forest (mostly its capacity for gliding, and especially its tendency to grant a soft landing) with Konata, who was still nowhere to be seen.

He squeezes his eyes shut as he continues to advance, a vain attempt to put the situation out of mind. Taking another step, he collides with someone's back with a dull thud, as the group suddenly comes to a halt, throwing his off balance. With a squeak of surprise, his eyes snap open as he loses his balance and grip on the railing, waving his arms and beginning to tumble backwards - until Giffany reaches out, grabbing him and pulling him back to safety.

As the little Nopon regains his footing, exhaling a strangled half-sigh, Giffany looks up the staircase, curious to find out why they stopped. In front of her, 23 points upwards, towards Dodo's position, stopped at the landing atop of the staircase staring at something. The group shuffles up the landing, joining their frontrunner as they see just what it was he was staring at. Set into the tower's side, is a set of gigantic, heavy stone doors.

23 and Morgan gently push through to the front of the crowd, joining Dodo and bracing themselves against the doorway. With a heavy shove - accompanied by a low, earthy rumble - the doorway grinds open...








Passing through the doorway's looming archway, the group pauses, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the comparative darkness of the ancient city within. The only sources illuminating the looming buildings were a thin beam filtering from a rift in the cavern's ceiling, the dull glow of the crystalline windows lining the city- and miles upon miles of scarlet piping winding through the skyline.

Much like in the forest before, Dexter flicks on a flashlight, tracing the beam around the outlines of the stone buildings and leftover Bureau equipment. Taking a few paces forward, he stops and turns back towards the others, who squint as the light's beam grazes their eyes. Apologizing, he shifts the beam downwards, pivoting back towards the shaded, winding streets.



Tch, not this place again...

Swear to god, every time I stepped foot down here, I got my ass kicked. Let's try to keep that in that past, alright? Cool. Anyway, at least it looks like we don't have to split up this time - if this map's actually worth a shit - we should be able to stick together 'til the mineshaft if this place doesn't get all fucky like the woods.



Uh, unless anyone's got a reason to hit Decontamination, I guess.

The complete lack of response informs him quickly that apparently, nobody does.

With a shrug, he rejoins the group, standing aside Dodo and lighting the way as they continue into the darkness between the stone-hewn towers. As they walk forth... a strange feeling comes over Tinkaton, and she turns backwards, giving the path behind a lingering glance. The motion is echoed by Astrid - though after a moment, they both shake it off and hurry to catch up. Must've been their imagination.

Behind them, distantly out of sight... the city comes aglow.

Occultic sigils brightly shine through the darkness, a low rumble beginning to seep into the air like the breathing of an ancient beast. Bathed in a deep, ominous red, the ground quakes gently, almost undulating as the buildings shift and the Residential District begins to change...

This post was last modified: Nov 15, 2024 at 6:45 PM by Elyk.

Elsewhere, in what felt by now like another world to the survivors ascending the tower... Konata sits by the CNC machine in the Drafting Office, slowly and painstakingly fabricating weapons for the group's final battle. Devoid of the Armory, it's not like she had much in the way of a choice when it came to augmenting their arsenal - though Tinkaton was already strapped, admittedly. Still, if anything happened to her, they'd need backups.

How she managed to get here to begin with, back to a room within the normal facility, that was somewhat of a long story. Needless to say, the time she spent seeking out and irritating the aberration in charge of the Abyss Team wasn't exactly fruitless. She was more observant than she seemed, and each note he took, each word he spoke about the "Inversion Protocol", gave her more and more of an understanding of its workings.

She deduced, correctly... that at least for a short while, she could return, slipping between the cracks. She supposed she could call it a "bond power", even if she strongly doubted that they had any sort of bond whatsoever.

Either way, it didn't matter. As long as it worked.

The CNC machine grinds to a halt at long last, and Konata gets up, adding yet another manufactured firearm to her hefty stockpile. Eyeing a miner's pack on the far end of the room, she snatches it from the hook and begins to pile the weaponry inside. Guns, knives, a few axes, and more disappear inside the bag until it reaches its full capacity. Despite the bulging, uncomfortably sharp protrusions, she slips on the pack and begins to focus, repeating the process that brought her here in the first place.

Appearing in the middle of the Black Forest, she quickly dashes eastward in hopes of catching up with the rest. Hopefully, she thought, she wouldn't be too late to deliver...

---

Deeper within the thicket of the Black Forest, a certain scientist brushes aside a branch as she steps into the Esotera Lab, dripping wet with frigid water. Plucking a syringe from a stray workbench, she sloshes towards a vat of swirling, brownish Esotera, suspended in a liquid solution. With a dip of the syringe and a pull of the plunger, she fills the injector's chamber, before sliding it carefully into the pocket of her lab coat.

She tilts her head, a rustling from outside drawing her attention - and she peers back out the laboratory's door, barely catching the sight of a blue-and-white streak in the corner of her eye, sprinting madly to the east. How... interesting.

Dr. Lyra Orpheus retreats into the lab, pushing aside a crash cart as she reaches for a distiller, knocking the flask of water onto the tiled floor. The liquid scatters across the surface, and Lyra takes a step forward. As though the ground itself had vanished beneath her feet, she disappears into the puddle's surface, leaving only a small splash in her wake.

Her grasping hand bursts from the surface of the Underground Lakefront on the third floor, clawing at the rocky beach as he pulls herself from the lake. Awaiting her arrival... are two ghosts. Momoyo and Nico help her to her feet, awaiting orders from the scientist - and thankfully for them... she had plans aplenty. Nico strikes her signature pose, slipping her now-strangely-threatening CHICKEN MASK onto her face. Fetching a harpoon from the Lighthouse, she departs to the north. She and Lyra agreed on something beyond choice of hairstyle - the football had to die.

For Momoyo, however... she had different ideas. Dr. Orpheus retrieves the syringe of Telluric esotera from her coat, and jams it into the ghost's chest, slamming down on the plunger with force. The liquid spreads through her translucent form, tearing through the ghost's body as she falls to her knees. Momoyo jerks suddenly, wrenching her back in an unnatural position. Her neck cracks and pops, growing longer, and longer still. Insectoid legs tear through her side, mandibles bursting through her gaping mouth. Her form continues to lengthen, skin giving way to a chitinous exoskeleton as her shadow begins to dominate the room.

Her centipede transformation now complete, Momoyo lowers her titanic, insectoid head before Lyra's feet, as though beckoning the scientist to climb aboard. Taking a step onto her her new steed, Dr. Orpheus' smile grows wide as she rises into the air.



Turning her attention towards the outer wall beyond the lake, Lyra flicks her wrist and the centipede swings its tail through the air in turn, smashing clean through the cavern wall like a wrecking ball. Light begins to burst through the hole to the tower's exterior as Momoyo scuttles through the new passage, pistonlike legs splashing across the lake's surface before finding purchase on the tower's walls.

All the while, Lyra concentrates atop her disciple's head as she coils around the tower's third floor, searching for something that she knew would hit her like a splash in undisturbed water. The presence... of her Stellaric counterparts.

This post was last modified: Nov 17, 2024 at 1:31 AM by Spooks?.

Indiana Jones shoves aside a stone slab, crawling through the gap into one of the abandoned dwellings lining the ancient streets. Stepping over a familiar mummified body, he tears a torch from the wall, setting it alight and returning to the group. The old archeologist grunts, holding it high as the torch's soft, flickering flame illuminates their surroundings far better than the thin beam of Dexter's flashlight, much to the latter's dismay as the old man takes his position as navigator.

Still, despite the time he'd spent down here over the course of their stay, the place felt... unfamiliar. The streets longer, the buildings taller, and the floorplan just different enough to lead the group in circles more than once.

Snatching him away from his thoughts, a shockwave ripples through the cavernous city, throwing him off-balance as metallic instruments from a nearby Bureau research station clatter to the ground. Bracing himself, he hoists the torch towards the source of the ripple - the outer wall of the cavern housing the city. He frowns, scratching his head for but a moment - before a second shockwave hits, and cracks begin to spread through the wall, the pale light of the outside world creeping inwards. The archaeologist steps backwards, shouting a word of warning to the others - but it's too late.

With a deafening crash, the cavern wall gives away to a flurry of insectoid limbs. Smashing through the buildings and stalactites, Lyra's steed spills into the room, sending the group scattering as dust and rubble fill the air, chunks of the city descending upon them...

---

Dust circling through the air, Nashu coughs, pushing a clump of twisted steel - the remnants of a Containment Room - from on top of her body. Attempting to climb to her feet, she winces in pain, her leg caught underneath a piece of broken wall. She pulls, but the stone scrapes roughly against her skin, the stone firmly stuck in place. Sighing, she looks upwards towards the city street laid out before her - her eyes widening as she sees a clanking, metal shape approaching through the haze. She begins to pull at her leg desperately as the shape approaches...

But the figure takes a knee, gripping the stone and lifting it free, hurling it down the road, kicking up another cloud of dust. While she stares at the figure in disbelief, it's joined... by Alan Wake and Columbo. Helping Nashu up, Columbo directs the Deep Colossus and Alan to help clear the rest of the rubble while the two of them assess the situation. The city's in rough shape, several buildings having collapsed entirely across the main street. Their attacker appeared to be gone, leaving a very sizeable hole in the cavern wall above, but beyond that... the path ahead seemed largely intact.

Turning their attention to Alan and the diver's progress, they take note of who they've pulled from the rubble. Tinkaton, Dodo's ghost, Nancy, 23, Morgan, Nashu herself, Indiana Jones, and Dexter, all largely intact, save for some bruises and scrapes. Columbo approaches the pile himself, calling out for Astrid and the others loudly as he steps through the rubble. From the other side, blocked off by the fallen building, a voice calls out in return.



I'm here! I've got... Riki and Giffany with me! We're okay!



We'll... try to meet up later, I see... a few streets we can take over here, one of them might let us go around that. According to the map, there's no Anomalies in here, but... I don't know what that was, that... thing that burst through the wall. There's three of us though, so I think we can manage. Just... try to get those lasers down, I guess.

Columbo reluctantly nods, turning back towards the others, who dust themselves off and check to make sure none of their items are lost or broken. Thankfully, scattering seemed to be the right move, even if it led to an unwanted separation. Still, at this point... Columbo trusted her to find her own way. Riki was another story, mind you, but the little guy could follow orders. Sometimes.

As the others walk away, Dodo stays behind for a moment, staring intently at the pile of rubble, and those trapped behind... Though Giffany and Riki may be separated, Dexter and 23 remained, and even with much of his mind dominated by a fervent desire to protect those he cared about in life, he had the sense to know he couldn't dig through the rubble on his own. He turns, waddling to catch up with the rest of his group, the loose springs now protruding from his mattress shield bouncing as he walks along the path.

From behind, something peers through the doorway of one of the intact buildings, a malformed arm wrapping around the frame, hand clutching the door's edge as a wide smile spreads across its waxy face, eyes vibrating with excitement from sunken, damp sockets.

---

On the other side of the fallen rocks, the isolated trio walks down the road, searching for a way to reunite with the rest. Though there was plenty more light streaming from outside now, the implications of the preceding disaster were unsettling, and it did little to ease their nerves. Giffany crouches down, scraping some Occultic sigils in the ground with a particularly pointy rock, the slug's soul swirling out of her body and coalescing into a servitor of her own - a little chibi Giffany.

Riki and Astrid stare at her for a moment, her use of Occultic magic raising suspicion for... obvious reasons. She raises her hands apprehensively, explaining that she'd rather have an expendable scout, considering everything that's happened - logic that seemed solid enough to the decidedly not-suicidal duo. With the smaller Giffany in front, they continued their search for a way out.



Dammit... I hope these roads lead somewhere.... Maybe one of you guys has a better sense of direction than I do, but I have no idea where we are, or how to get around this place. It... kind of looks like the road to that chasm, but that's all the way back on the first floor now... Hm, maybe if we turn around and try going right instead?



Oh, hey - look!

She points ahead... at someone standing down the road. A familiar figure, one they all recognized - and one that two of them at least, trusted.





Wordlessly, the bird beckons to them, before turning and walking down the street. After a shared glance, the trio decides to follow...

A dull glow in the distance told the larger group everything they needed to know. In contrast with the ominous reds and blinding whites, the soft orange of the old lanterns lining the Mine Shaft was a welcome sign. Despite the earlier incident, they'd made it through, with no sign of the creature that brought the cavern wall down. If there was anything they'd learned though, it's that the mineshaft was a magnet for trouble - and this time, at the end of it... were the Occultic Seal and its guardian.

Walking forth into the tunnel, Nashu searches the area, digging through the crates scattered around the entrance shaft. The rest walk by, Dexter pausing to give her a weird look as she snickers, finding what she's been looking for. Shoveling sticks of dynamite from the crate into her pockets, she rejoins the group - Dexter taking several broad steps away from her and her explosive inventory.

As they come up on a doorway to their right, 23 perks up, sniffing the air from underneath his mask, glowing eyes narrowing behind thick lenses. He blocks the path with one arm, pointing with the other towards a motion sensor above the door, blinking red as it searches for the crowd just outside of its range.



Stay still, the evil eye looks upon the path ahead. But one step forward, and the gateway swings wide - the shadow that dwells within set loose upon us.

The shadow of death itself. Who among us is not guilty of sin? Of an attempt to cleave your fellow man asunder? What lies beyond the gate knows full well the dark deeds forced unto your soul - and it shall judge you nonetheless. The "Great Purifier", it is called in the legends of old. An omen of death and despair. I shan't pretend that you remain oblivious, you hath read the file as have I.



...Return to the cavern's mouth and await my word - and the arrival of the stellaric girl. There are those among you who I hath taught my art, and even you risk death eternal should you falter for but a moment. I hath prepared for this moment since the beginning of our ascent. It shall take one shadow to smother out another - and what better to kill an avatar of death than another?



23, you're not going to fight that thing alone, if nothing else, we can be a distraction or-



No, I hath already nearly witnessed those I care for being lost to the unholy light of the thousand sins. I will not suffer this again. Besides, there is yet another threat that stalks these halls. Should you wish to assist me, ward off the one who changes shape. Tinkaton and Nashu should be more than capable. Should it assault me undetected, then victory is surely beyond my grasp.

Go now. Do not dally.

Nancy casts a look back towards 23, before sadly turning to the rest of the group, shuffling them back towards the tunnel entrance. All except one, who stood resolute and unmoving, defying the orders given by the hunter as the others disappeared back down the mineshaft to await the others and stand vigil for the shapeshifting entity.

Morgan.



You... You are a fool.



Yet, should you be stupid enough to stand and fight, in lieu of Partridge herself, I could not ask for a better ally. Come, destiny awaits - whether it be victory, or a glorious end borne from combat.

The duo, now alone, turns back towards the steel doorway set into the mineshaft's side, striding forward before the sensor. The doors slide open with a hiss, and the two stare forward into the darkness beyond, the home of the Occultic Seal. Before them, a blade scrapes across the ground - a low, grinding sound. Across the room, a scythe rises into the air, its owners joints snapping and popping into place as it rises to its feet. Pinprick flames ignite in the creature's eyes.

Unlike their time in the underground city before... this time, something stares back.

Back in the ancient city, Riki, Astrid, and Giffany continued to follow Dodo's lead, deeper and deeper down the mazelike streets. The buildings seem to loom larger, and at this point... it was starting to feel like they'd been walking for hours, with no payoff. Astrid sighs, her legs beginning to ache as she dodges loose bricks, stepping down the ruined road. She looks over towards the other two, pacing alongside her...



Hey... I don't really wanna... say anything to your friend here, but are you sure he knows where he's going? It just... feels like we're going in circles, I guess. Like... that building over there, that's where the archaeologist got the torch, right? Something about this... I dunno, it feels weird.

But... it's not like we have any other options, right?

Dodo approaches an alleyway, turning and beckoning the others to follow once again. This time, there's a touch more hesitation in their steps as they continue after their guide - yet follow they do, slipping into the narrow alley behind him. Suddenly... the path ends - a dead end, yet another pile of rubble blocking the way ahead. Dodo stands there for but a moment, before turning in place to face his companions.

From his beak... a laugh begins to echo out. Not the croaking-yet-jovial sound that they would assume a fat bird to make, nor the distorted screeching of the shapeshifter. A woman's laugh, cold yet mischievous. From a doorway next to him, another figure walks out to join them. Clad in a CHICKEN MASK, the figure hoists a shovel menacingly over its shoulder, taking its place next to the false Dodo as something falls from the latter's hand, and the disguise begins to melt away.

The object hits the floor, and Giffany's eyes grow wide with recognition. The crushed remains of small, round homunculus... dressed like Trip. Before she can react, the ghost of Jack of Spades, having shed the avian disguise bestowed upon her by the creature, rushes forward, plunging a knife into Giffany's side. She cries out in pain, but as she clutches the wound with her other hand, she jabs Jack of Spades with her taser in turn, sending the ghost to the floor twitching.

The person in the CHICKEN MASK lifts the shovel from their shoulder and takes a swing - though it clears Giffany entirely, instead hitting Riki square in the stomach. The little nopon skids backwards, but catches the ground with the claws of the Raptor Mask. CHICKEN MASK goes for another swing, and Astrid backs up, panic swelling in her eyes as Riki, having prepared for just this situation, snatches the shovel in his claws and swings it away. Undeterred, CHICKEN MASK grabs the nearest rock and continues wildly swinging at him, Riki just barely dodging the attacker's heavy blows.

Astrid backs up, away from the chaos - when she feels her back touch something large. Something... no. Someone.

She swivels around... and gasps in a mixture of surprise and terror.



Step aside, little lady.

Got some unfinished business with these Abyss fellas - and th' way I see it... well, would be best if ya didn't get yerself involved.