2020.08.20 All about the pentiums
| Umbra | |
|---|---|
| Getting those phones locked down for the Pentex. | |
| IC Date | August 20th, 2020 |
| IC Time | Evening |
| Players | Jackson Dahlia as ST |
| Location | The Hive |
| Spheres | Wyrm, BSD |
The Umbra is a literal world made of the abstract made literal. An echo of an echo, and here is not different. A cell phone tower is set standing proud in the other world Here, a massive pole stands, an undulating aura atop - both ear and eye. Spiders skitter about it ant the webs hanging from its form, weaving, solidifying, analyzing. The ground is gravel and seems freshly turned. Occasionally arcs pulse through the rock bed even as Weaver's children work tirelessly and dutifully.
Dressed in his ratty jeans and a shirt obscure rap group mid 90's as he moves forward cigrette in his hand black and white smoke drifting up into the air. Jackson is here to find a friend, a good friend, a good little spider. His eyes moving slowly for a moment, as he waits now for a moment dropping the cigarette down to the ground as his root foot is crushed with that black nike, as he waits now.<Hello, I seek an audience, with the bravest and the best one here.>
A spider pauses and drones to the others before looking <STATEMENT: THE WYRM IS UNWELCOME IN THIS VICINITY. THREAT: COME NO CLOSER OR PREPARE TO BRING HONOR TO THE WEAVER.> The words come off as an old computer's voice synth might, speaking in English. The eye atop the tower seems to stare at Jackson, though its position is unmoving. It seems to be... reading the wolf. The spider continues <STATEMENT: THE GUARDIAN HERE IS NOT ONE WHO WILL CAPITULATE TO THE REDUCTION OF CLASSIFICATIONS GENERATED BY THE WYRM.>
Jackson stands there where he is told, as he watches now holding up a few items, cellphones, bits of a laptop, a video processor. His eyes looking up at the spider, as he waits now as he looks upwards, his hands offering the treats, ready to drop them for the spiders.
A deeper crackle is heard. The words sound like sparks - the ancient claps of thunder harnessed and focused into the controlled realms of algorithms. <YOU BRING NAUGHT BUT DECAY, FALLEN WOLF> the thunderous, deafening roar echoes. The gravel EXPLODES as a beast of wires and metal rockets from the ground. A bestial titan of circuits and code appearing to be a truly massive mechanical centipede shows itself, half its form still in the ground as it towers over the homid, a green glow radiates from within a metal maw.
The monstrosity, however, doesn't seem to attack. Even with the chance to, its daggerlike legs merely pearce the gravel and dirt as the spiders dutifully and mindfully lower to begin bringing every pebble back to the pile. <TELL ME, FALLEN WOLF.> The spirit echoes into his mind. <YOU TAUNT WITH TRINKETS, BUT WHAT DO YOU BRING TO HONOR ME?>
At the edge of memory, it's often forgotten the Weaver doesn't calcify all it touches. It taints in its own way. A Wyld beast contained in a cage of metal. Raw rage rained by law and logic. Perhaps a fallen creature of a long ago fight, it is clear it is not OF the Weaver itself, but rather a pet - an abomination of chaos by design…
Jackson throws his left hand forward, as he bleeds out his spirit, offering to the creature, his eyes moving over it's form as he speaks softly. His voice is filled with mirth, with joyish energy, as he bows his head slowly. With that his hand is coming back to rest at his side, as he waits now for the creature.
The beast begins to slowly crawl from its area, the tower staring at him more and more. <VERY WELL. A RIDDLE CHALLENGE. IF YOU FAIL, HOWEVER, I WILL GAIN SOMETHING FROM YOU.> The wyrm centipede begins to slowly circle around the wolf, cutting off escape. <THE STAKES ARE HIGH, WYRM WOLF. YOUR LIES DO NOT DECEIVE THE UNSWARMED. THEREFORE, I SHALL BEGIN> Its mouth blades slowly spin and eyes dim.
Jackson stands there as he listens, his hand resting on the side of his leg where his klaive is there, with a nod slowly as he speaks.<Keyboard dearest one, my turn. It is a good riddle. My turn, You are in a room that is completely bricked in on all four sides, including the ceiling and floor. You have nothing but a mirror and a wooden table in the room with you. How do you get out?> His eyes watching the spirit, as he gives it slowly, his hand is ready to bring it out Talisman Dedicate for right now, the shift would bring it out and he would be ready to kill if needed. Either way tonight, he will do his goal but kindess is better than murder for long term with the spirits.
The spirit twists as it... just keeps COMING out of the ground, spiraling more and more around the wolf. <A PLAY ON WORDS IS WHAT I ENJOY MOST. YOU GAZE IN THE MIRROR AND SEE WHAT YOU SAW. YOU CUT THE TABLE IN HALF, WHERE TWO HALVES MAKE A WHOLE - A WHOLE FROM WHICH YOU ESCAPE. IT IS AN OLD ONE BASED ON OLD PUNS OF MORTAL LANGUAGE...> The spirit pauses. <YOUR ALPHA PHYSICALLY STANDS BEHIND YOU, BUT YOU ALSO PHYSICALLY STAND BEHIND HIM. HOW?> The lightning echoes of the weaver tainted monstrosity demands, looking to Jackson for his answer.
<Now than we are standing back to back of course.> Jackson stands there watching the creature, as he takes out a cigarette slowly placing it between his teeth from a metal cigarette holder. Lighting it with a gold plated lighter, as he looks at the creature. His eyes watching it for a moment, as he speaks slowly his words are powerful, as he exhales the purple smoke up into the air.
The creature pauses. A buzzing sound crackles as it weighs its thoughts. <A STRANGE RIFFLE, SURELY. I SHALL GUESS... A CRYSTAL LENSE FROM WHICH TO SEE.> Its face doesn't betray happiness or frustration, but rather a strange curiosity, pausing the steady surrounding of Jackson to see the answer.
<The answer is Pencil Lead. I have won this game.> Jackson looks up at the creature with a smile, as his lips curl into a smile. His cigrette is flicked behind him in an arc of crimson smoke, as it burns out quickly filling the air, as he waits now.<So, than will you loan me this spider, for me to do my task?>
A crackle of lightning sparks from its mouth. <YOU SHALL HAVE ONE SPIDER... ONCE YOU HAVE GIVEN ME ONE THING AS PENANCE FOR YOUR LIES. TO TAKE ONE AND DO AS YOU PLEASE, I DEMAND AN EQUAL VALUE OBJECT. I DEMAND A BANE TO CALCIFY. BRING THIS, AND YOU SHALL HAVE YOUR SPIRIT.> As quickly as it surrounds Jackson, it slithers back into its hole, only its head revealed. It appears the Wyld can adjust the stricter rules...
Jackson's voice is panicked as he looks around, as he thinks for a moment.
A drone and pause. <VERY WELL.> it crackles. <BUT IF I DO NOT RECEIVE MY BANE, IT WILL BE YOU I SHALL CALCIFY TO BRING FURTHER STASIS TO YOUR MASTER.> It watches as one of the spiders comes forth to the werewolf willingly, clearly at the command of the beast in the gravel. In a tiny voice it drones in binary <STATEMENT: LET US BEGIN.>
"Come little one, your task is easy, you will be protecting me and my friends phones. I will update you on the phone numbers, lead you to each one. The better you do, the more I feed you monthly." Jackson is sweet as pie to this little spider, as he leads him through the umbra to the cellphone tower close to Pentex, slowly the riutal is done with care, it is a company mission one is not to fuck one of those up. As he works, as he thinks of that fucking weaver, that fucking weaver, with all it's fluff, and it's power, it's god damn arrogance. Once this is done, he turns updating reading from the list of the current, workers on the need to block last per Pax and Trent is done, than he turns to head back to the fucking weaver bitch.
Jackson starts with a simple work, his favorite of all rituals to punish, to own, to get back Rite of Desecration around the tower, that the fucking spirit lives in it is a simple task, down as the moon is rising and the sun is setting. Easy to do, so fucking easy, as the words are spoken and the gift are given, blood to easy it along, of one of the drug addicts that he knows, sold for a joint. As the task is done, he opens his mouth yelling across to his friendly little banes, this is father's land now, and they should fucking now it!<KILL THEM, THIS LAND IS FATHERS NOW!!!>
The spiders flee, but the guardian remains. It slams down on one, but mostly misses it. What's not expected, however, is the tower launching what looks like a ripple of air at one of the banes, slamming into it, white crystallization beginning to spread along its body as it attacks the guardian - both of them slamming into its metal flesh - cutting and clawing for their master.
Jackson watches his job was done, it was time to head off to tell Pax of the win, as he waves towards the banes.<Good hunting children.> With that he is heading out of the area, leaving the fight to happen, if it fails tonight he will be back tomorrow, and the day after, this will be owned by father. He hates this damn thing!
