2017.11.24 Weaver Banishing Party
| Weaver Banishing Party | |
|---|---|
| Ritual fix for Thomas's 'terrible mistake' | |
| IC Date | Nov 24, 2017 |
| IC Time | About 10 pm |
| Players | Hamish Thomas FrankNPC, KinfolkNPCs |
| Location | McClure Acres |
| Prp/Tp | Latenight Foolishness |
| Spheres | Wyrm |
| Theme Song | None yet |
McClure Acres - House
Two stories tall and with many rooms, this sprawling home boasts large windows with thick curtains pulled back to let in ample natural light, curved pink roof tiles, and gardens of native southwestern flora alongside decorative stone paths. The open flow concept indoors lends to large, airy rooms with no hinderance to foot traffic for large families, and high ceiling with dark, exposed beam work.
Furnishings tend towards the modern and luxurious and art that is curiously morbid yet tasteful, making comfortable sitting rooms, a den with a fair sized library and a few computers, as well as a very large and well appointed kitchen with a curiously old fashioned stove contrasting all the modern conveniences around it. A plethora of bedrooms are occupied by young kinfolk, the house ever filled with chatter.
The back yard of the home has a large porch and ample seating to protect residents from the sun, and another large sitting space gathered on a gravel bed around a decorative fire pit. What every good home in the desert needs, a large pool shaded by palms, offers a cool respite with several sun loungers around it, colorful gardens planted all around its patio edge for a nearly tropical look. There’s also an elaborate play structure just a little ways from the house offering bridges, lookout towers, swings, and all manner of childish fun.
The basement, spanning nearly the size of the house, is three parts storage of tons of random things, and one part wine cellar.
Obvious Exits:
Down <D> Laboratory <LA> Outside <O>
<Phone> (Text from Thomas) (from Jakob's phone) delete
<Phone> (Text from Thomas) (from Jakob's phone) delete!
<Phone> (Text from Thomas) (from Jakob's phone) delete instagram
<Phone> (Text to Thomas) I think you're doing it wrong
<Phone> (Text from Thomas) (from Jakob's phone) what is this
<Phone> (Text from Thomas) (from Jakob's phone) delete instagram!
<Phone> (Text from Thomas) (from Jakob's phone) hacking software
<Phone> (Text from Thomas) (from Jakob's phone) google
<Phone> (Text to Thomas) Thomas? You know Jakob's going to pluck your tail feathers right?
<Phone> (Text from Thomas) (from Jakob's phone) (accidental selfie) 
<Phone> (Text from Thomas) (from Jakob's phone) who is this
<Phone> (Text to Thomas) Jesus you're so fucking adorable
<Phone> (Text from Thomas) (from Jakob's phone) who is this??????
<Phone> (Text to Thomas) It's your conscience. We haven't spoken in a long time, Thomas.
<Phone> (Text from Thomas) (from Jakob's phone) what do you want
<Phone> (Text from Thomas) (from Jakob's phone) delete nsa
<Phone> (Text from Thomas) (from Jakob's phone) delete nsa
<Phone> (Text to Thomas) Why are you trying to delete me, Thomas?
<Phone> (Text to Thomas) I love you Thomas
<Phone> (Text to Thomas) Come into the phone
<Phone> (Text to Thomas) We can be together forever
<Phone> (Text to Thomas) and ever
<Phone> (Text to Thomas) and ever
<Phone> (Text to Thomas) and ever
<Phone> (Text to Thomas) and ever
From upstairs Hamish hears "PUT IT IN THE MICROWAVE, FRANK"
<Phone> (Text to Thomas) Don't burn me Thomas!
<Phone> (Text to Thomas) I LOVE YOU THOMAS!
Hamish hears footsteps -rushing- down the stairs, then see Thomas with a huge ball of tin foil making a beeline toward the fridge.
Hamish, meanwhile, is desperately trying to keep his shit together and not laugh when Thomas goes flying by with a presumably tinfoil wrapped phone. "You got uh.. You got some kinda problem over there, Pretty Bird?" he asks like he has no idea at all.
Thomas sprints down the stairs toward the kitchen with a large ball of tin foil in one hand. However, he nearly falls over when he hears Hamish's voice. "I-- I gotta put this turkey away," he says of the giant ball. It's not entirely unsual that Thomas does leave giant wads of food items in the fridge, but yeah. That's absolutely the phone.
From upstairs, Frank's voice can be heard, "You've opened Pandora's box!"
"Thomas?" Hamish says, eyes flicking from up the stairs to the kitchen, "Did you take Pandora's Turkey out of the Box? Cause I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to do that. You're going to cover the world in festive autumn cheer."
Thomas decides to ignore Hamish -and- Frank, and just open the freezer and go to shove the foil wad into the ice maker. Take that, NSA!
But the mechanical phone gods LOVE YOU, THOMAS! When the poor bird's 'safe' from the NSA's super stealthy tracking and voice recognition magic, Hamish asks, "You need a hug, little pigeon?" He's still trying to keep from laughing, but he opens his arms anyways, his own phone set aside. He may or may not be joking.
"Mm-mm, mm-mm," Thomas insists shaking his head, and then, "I need ice!" He goes to try to push the crushed ice button, to get the ice maker working. His hands are a twitchy, trembling mess. Something has clearly ninja'd his brain. He looks absolutely unnerved.
Hamish gets up from the couch and wanders into the kitchen, "Poor thing, you're shaking." he says, and attempts to hug Thomas anyways. Well.. more keep him from being able to reach out and poke buttons on the fridge and sorta drag him away from it. "You need to relax and just let your stuff chill." Cause it's just turkey, after all.
Thomas manages to press the ice maker, sending a bunch of crushed cubes to the floor, but there aren't any alarming sounds, yet, that would indicate a giant ball of phone has been crushed. Then he's dragged into a hug, from which he tries to escape, patting Hamish on the back (the signal that hug is over) and trying to squirm away. "I need more ice!"
"No you don't." There's no tap outs! Hamish stoops a bit, readjusts his grip and picks up the bird boned fellow, starting to walk off with him. It's a mobile hug! WOO! Out of the kitchen, to the stairs, and starting up them, "You're gonna get the floor all soggy and then Johnny Boy's going to say things to you in monotone that are best presented in a yelling voice."
Thomas squawks when he's picked up, and for a split second Hamish is presented with the homid version of the accidental selfie he'd sent. "I'll clean it! I'll clean it, boss! I wouldn't get him mad," hysterical Schiff tries to say, squirming to be let go. But he's too frightened to make a -real- effort of getting away from the mad doctor. "I just-- Frankie's gotta fever. I gotta get ice for him."
"You're a terrible, terrible, awful bad liar, Thomas." Hamish says with a little smooch on his squirmy captive's cheek. Bird might manage to get his arms free, but Hamish keeps a hold for the most part, even if an escaping pigeon results in him getting back to where Frank is with a buzzard half over his shoulder. "I think you lost this." he tells Frank when he finds him.
Frank's up in his usual prison: Jakob and Thomas' joined room. For a prison cell, it's not so bad, though, or at least Jakob's side is pretty comfortable. Better than his last cell. Thomas side's got that funny stink to it, like usual. Faintly of rotten eggs and gunpowder. When Frank goes to open the door, he's got a comforter wrapped around him. Thomas quorks, defeatedly. He almost looks like he's going to cry. Hell, he -is- going to laugh. A sobbing little stress laugh into Hamish's shoulder.
"Thanks for returning it," is Frank's response.
Hamish pats Thomas on the back and nose bumps his head. Poor tortured bird, NO ONE UNDERSTAAAAAANDS! And for that, we will all continue to be monitored by the government and the Weaver. Curse you, Hamish! He brings his captured bird in and flomps him down on Jakob's bed. "My lovely bird of paradise is trying to use you as a scape goat, he says you're ill. How're you feeling, Frank?" he asks, and just in case, reaches out to test Frankie's forehead with his palm.
Frankie's forehead is burning hot to the touch!
Okay, no, his forehead is completely normal. And he tries to train his expression back to neutral, so he won't start cracking up again. Like Thomas, he might have been crying, but a tear or two of laughter, rather than tears of 'I've doomed us all!' He glances at his poor shifter when he hiccups out a giggling sob. "Uh, I'm not a doctor," he tries to say, delicately, "but I didn't notice anything."
"You feel alright to me." Hamish opines, having had a feel and given Frankie the diagnostic eye. "If you're worried about your health later, you can stop by my room and I'll take your temperature." He says it totally straight faced, but we all know what he's talkin' about. Back to Thomas again, he comes around to scritch under his chin if the bird'll let him, "Are you gonna survive?"
"I dunno!" Thomas says, tone desperate, breathing in, to stop his own giggling. "I-- I might've did something. You're not gonna hurt me, right?" Frank just does an about-face on his heel, so Schiff can't see him laugh and Hamish can't see him blush.
Frankie's probably tech savvy enough to have noticed who Thomas was messaging, even if the bird did not! Hamish takes a deeeeeeep breath and lets it out sloooooowly, "Why Thomas, I'm crushed. Don't I take such good care of my prettiest bird? I'd never hurt you." Okay technically there's like a dozen or so things that would cause him to legitimately draw and quarter Thomas, BUT, well. This isn't one of them, obviously.
Frank does know how to use a phone. And even if he didn't, he -clearly- knows what's going on. He goes to head toward the door, wrapping himself closer in poor Jakob's comforter. A hint of pink feathery sleeve can be seen at his wrist.
"Yeah," Thomas admits, "You take good care of me. But I -really- fucked up this time, Doctor! Jakob's phone was being bugged by the NSA and I think they've got voice recognition or something, because they knew it was me and heard me talking to Frank. They know I was trying to get rid of them. I think they're coming now." He spots his poor prisoner-occultist trying to leave and tells him, "Shit, check the windows!"
He's humored with a "You got it, sir," from the kin.
Hamish takes a deeeeeeep breath again, one of those thinking breaths as he considers the complete catastrophe that Thomas hasn't caused. "Well, we haven't got a lot of options, I suppose. We could all just run away, but there's too much evidence here to just leave everything behind. I guess we'll just have to do a little ritual work, try to block the Men In Black from finding us. Thank you for telling me, Thomas. You know how much I like a good, honest buzzard. Frank! Put on your best silk robe, we've got work to do!" he says while getting up and spanking Thomas right on the butt.
Thomas jumps as he's suddenly swatted, but frankly, he was more surprised he seems to have gotten away with the catastrophe he's caused. Frank, meanwhile, has a sudden change of plans, and jumps at the order. "Yeah, let me change!" he says, and goes to the paranoiac's bathroom, where his robe is.
Great, now Hamish has to think up a MiB Banishing Ritual. "Grab all your tin foil, we're gonna need it." he tells the bird, and starts out of the room. Out in the hall, he starts stopping by bedrooms to round up some of the Carver kinfolk, mainly the ones young enough not to be too skeptical, and informs them that they're needed for super important ritual work, and to get in to their best costumes and meet him downstairs in a minute.
Frank comes out as Thomas is collecting the foil from Jakob's little pantry. It's mostly all gone, given the huge wad that's now in the freezer. The comforter and Mrs. Aston-whatever's flamingo dress is left on the bed.
And then a bunch of dinosaurs and pirates and monsters and a three and a half foot tall french fry arrive because they were told to bring costumes!
Hamish can be found downstairs out in the back yard after having raided the rest of the tin foil out of the supplies drawer. He's using it to make shiny foil ropes around their 'ritual area' and, once Thomas is there as well, he says, "Hats, make hats. I don't want the Weaver scrambling my babies' brains." That's gonna look great on top of their costumes! "Tiny minions! Thomas has brought the wrath of the Weaver down upon us and we're going to have to banish it to the pits of hell. Everyone grab a phone out of the box to use as a sacrifice." He does indeed have a box of spare phones. Burners, obsolete models, things like that, because he's a hoarder.
Thomas feels so made fun of. Foil hats. Haha. He's just too afraid to say a damned word, because he's really fucked up this time, and he knows it. And he must be putting at least a little stock in tin foil, because he has wrapped the phone up in it. With his tailoring skills, he could probably make something cool looking, but too bad. Everyone's getting conical gnome-looking hats. It's easier, and maybe the shape would help, too. All the kids get one. Frank and Hamish, too. And...he's stooped to a new low, but he gets one, too. He feels a bit better when he hears he can sacrifice a phone, though!
Hamish wears his tinfoil hat with pride! As does the french fry. The french fry with the tin foil hat. He gets kinfolk positioned around with their sacrificial phones, Jakob's poor tin foil covered phone in the middle suspended over a Suspicious Looking Pot on one of those little lawn furniture end tables, gets some candles lit, the whole nine yards. Yeah it's all a buncha bullshit, but he fucking *loves* theater, so. Go all out!
"The Weaver is coming to ruin us and drive us from our homes. Do we like it here?" he asks minions both small and tall, "Yes we do! So we're going to frighten the forces of law and order away. Alright, follow me.." He raises his phone up and orates in Pictish something about O Father of destruction and corruption, defend your dark children, save us from light and wrap us in your comforting shadows.. It's all very dramatic and Super Serious. Except that shadows *do* start to pour in from all sides with barely audible whispers, creating horrific shapes across the ground and on nearby objects.
Oh. Shit. Thomas gets his arm around Frank, and not just to feel him up because of the pretty silk robe he's wearing. Thomas is in guardbird mode over his kinfolk. His only human kinfolk. Yeah, it's clear he'll guard Frank with his life, and this gets Frank to smiling faintly. It's honestly touching.
The kids, in their hats, all look about the room, because made-up ritual or not, -something- is going on, and they clutch at their phones, ready for the sacrifice, all chanting, "WE DO!" after Hamish. They're not leaving the house for the Weaver.
Fuck the Man! He can go raid someone else's house! Hamish does a teensy bit of shifting of his physical body, getting that glowy eye affect going that he usually has in crinos. The shadows seem to pulse and close in at the loyalty being shown by these wee, costumed specks, all controlled by Hamish of course but why bring up details nobody needs, right? THEATRICS! The Galliard makes the speech portion of the ritual short but entertaining, calling for cries of devotion from his ritual assistants, Thomas and Frank included, beseeching the Wyrm to cleanse their brother's phone and destroy weaver infestation there. "And how do we take care of the Weaver?" Hamish asks his boys and girls, wiggling his phone, "The same way we take care of the Wyld!" He points at the base of the little table for the others' benefit and hurls his phone there to smash into a bunch of pieces! It'll look more dramatic when everyone's hurling theirs into the middle of the ritual circle.
Phones are thrown! Thomas throws his a little harder than is probably needed, but he wants to protect Jakob, too. And he's put Jakob in such awful danger now, contacting the NSA like that. Gods, how easy it was to alert them! No one, he's decided, should have phones. The giant French fry's phone also kind of goes bouncing out of the circle, but Jeordy never notices. Hamish might notice Frank give him the briefest of smiles.
As the phones are hurled to their deaths at the base of the little table, the inside of the pot FWOOM!'s to life in a rush of fire. You can even *see* the Weaver being forced out during this short lived blaze as bright white-silver things SHOOT OUT! up into the sky. Fireworks, but still, you can't really see them till they're just up over the flames and the huge ball of foiled phone, blasting off like steely rockets to piff and pop and die, unable to escape the destructive wrath of the under aged ritualists. As the Weaver is driven out like this, Hamish hooooooowls fearcely, encouraging his kin (and Thomas and Frank, of course) to do the same. Jeordie might not, but you know.. He's a french fry. French fries aren't really known for fearsome sounds. As the popping weaver spiders over head cease, so does the fire, it was just a super thin layer of accelerant on the bottom.
There are a lot of howls. They're actually pretty feirce for a bunch of kids, but these are wolf kinfolk, no mere humans. And the cawing of a Carrion Crow, and his own kinfolk. Frank can actually caw pretty convicingly if he wants to. At the end of it, when the spiders all are dead and the fire's guttered out, Frank puts his hands together.
Hamish gathers up his weirdass kinfolk for post ritual approval snorfles. "We've all expended a lot of spiritual energy in this, I suggest we replenish with cake and cartoons." He picks up the foil phone, and then his favorite non pudding filled Fry, and heads in with Thomas and Frank, "Thomas, leave people's phones alone. You let me know if you think someone's phone needs cleansing, but you leave it alone. The NSA SHOULD pass us by, but just this once. They're like the Borg, you know. They adapt. This might not work again." But all appears forgiven, Jakob's phone is safely in Hamish's possession, and there's cake and inappropriate-for-kids cartoons to be had.
Scene called on account of sleepy times
