Just as the Inn is beginning to calm down again, the whirling cacophany to die down, another starts as dozens of gear driven devices burst out of the windows and doors of the mansion Sterling disappeared into. They glitter in the sunlight as they go to work repairing and cleaning up the house, glittering saw blades cutting down dead trees, sawing out rotted window sills, whirling clothes buffing and polishing brass trim. Spider like clockwork creations climb over the mansion, carrying buckets and washing the wood and drying it. Then sanding it before repainting it.
Showoffs... always drawing attention to themselves... no sense of subtlety...
Kong attempts saying the phrase without using the scroll, for practice, if nothing else...then, if that does nothing, he reads it off the scroll...
Meso, meso i kosti ... krv thew i tetiva...
Paul tries to see if the brambles are of a natural kind.
The words practically fling themselves out of Kong. As the last one passes over his lips, the first skeleton shudders, and red flesh begins to ooze out of it's bones, running like melted wax to flow into muscles, tendons, internal organs. Finally skin flows over the raw musculature, leaving Kong looking at a middle aged woman with brown hair. Her skin is gray, her eyes white but with visible pupils. The dead eyes blink, and then she moves, walking forward slowly....
...and past Kong, moving toward a cabinet on the wall. She opens it and pulls out a black dress, followed by a black apron. She pulls the dress on and then ties the apron as well, her motions slow and methodical. Finally when done she puts a pair of black boots on the floor and steps into them, her ankles bending unnaturally to make it easier to get in them.
Then the woman takes up the broom from where it leans against the wall and walks into the common area, moving the broom in slow even strokes to sweep out the detritus that accumulated.
The rest of the words in Kong's head pound at his forehead, demanding release...
Paul looks over the plants, which seem normal, other than the fact they regrow as fast as he can pull a limb off of a bush.
Towers are nice... that one's kind of boring though... so straight and neat... no character...
Ok, if they demand...Kong tries to control the rush, but sets them free. He has no real clue as to what he's doing, but it is apparently working.
Paul moves to another tower, frustrated with the invincible overgrowth, a gray one, worn and blemished compared to the one he had attempted to get in(Compound F)
Once he starts, he can't stop, one after another the words are torn from his mind and through his mouth. Each skeleton grows a new body, one obviously not alive, and then dresses itself from the cabinet. Every time the cabinet opens, there's a different set of clothes in it.
A man in leather pants and white cotton shirt, a man in chainmail with a sword, another woman with an apron, and a man with heavy muscles wearing leather shirt and pants. As they all move out of the room (except the woman with the apron, who stops to put the scrolls back where they belong), Kong's body begins to tremble from all the energy he's expended.
"CAAAAWWWWWW!!!!!" The raven swoops down from above, talons extended at Kong's face. He has no energy to dodge, and the raven hits him sending him to the floor as everything goes black.
The man in leather clothes re-enters the room, picking up the unconscious Kong, along with the blood red scythe that's laying next to him. He carries the unconscious man to the bedroom and lays him out on the bed, laying new clothes out for him on the chair.
Around Kong's neck is a silver chain with a children's doll on the end, a black raven stuffed with bits and odds, it's blood red eyes match the scythe blade, it's stuffed wings stitched with black raven feathers.
"Suit yourself." Neri shrugged, "There's so much obvious discord here. There's enough food for predators to survive, plants to dig up and eat, and obviously food enough for the herbivores the predators need to eat. But there are upwards of fifteen mini-civilizations sitting around the area, none of which even close to alike, once you include the curtains. I can't really see any signs of fighting, either. It's like they somehow managed to coexist until they either just -left-... or died off, reasons unknown.
Neri looked to Luna, "Which one do you think is yours?" he asked as he let his eyes dance from compound to compound, before getting back to work.
Oh, that's a shame... it looks so badly used... the flags would have been pretty I think... The thought cascades over Pauls' thoughts. Well, except for all the bird nests... I never really liked birds... They flutter and make noise everytime you get around them. Hard to keep quiet around them... As Paul's eyes happen to glance toward the tower with the spiky outcroppings, the thought comes back. Now that would be an easier tower to rob... lots of places to hide on the side... places to tie off ropes... and stuff.. The thought trails off haltingly, almost sheepishly.
The ruined gray tower has been taken over by rats, as Paul checks the front door, dozens of them look at him with beady eyes, hissing as others scramble for cover.
Neri finally gets some leather wraps done up for his feet. They aren't pretty, but with three or four layers, they'll hopefully work.
Harry notices all the weirdness going on about the place and decides that he must have missed something. He returns to the forge and screws around with the ores, coal, and stuff until something happens.
"I'm still not sure I'm on board with the hole 'we're part of a game' thing, I don't think any are mine."
"Look, we aren't going to kill poeple just to make an impression on other people. What are you, a terrorist?" She was having conversations with her intrusive thoughts now. Great.
Lina is quite put off by the fortress, passing through the imposing doors. She's puzzled as to the purpose of the stone tables, but feels most at home with the stables. She could just imagine the horses they'd have in a place like this; back when it'd have smelt like stable too, fresh hay & manure mixing together to create a not unpleasant, calming smell.
She couldn't resist running her hand along one of the old saddles.
Once done taking in the stables, she enters the keep proper, looking through each floor carefully in turn.
Neri nodded to her, wrapping the layers of hide around his feet... and then getting his balance, adjusting the straps slightly, and bouncing a few times. "Well, what else can we do? It's just like when I'm in the circus. We were going to Virginia, whether I liked it or not. I could get out of the truck, and I probably wouldn't be here, but I'd be jobless and without direction. So it's best to pick a direction and go, I think." He slipped off his jacket, and left his fur where it was. "If I don't come back out, you can keep the jacket, and the seven dollars. And what's left of the fur. Or give it away. he shrugged and headed for the volcano.
The keep is neat and tidy... or rather, it probably was when people lived here. Obvious rooms set up as barracks, no doubt for multiple guards. Other rooms smaller and spartan, set up for staff. A large kitchen to feed a small unit, a large dining room with one head table and several smaller ranked tables.
The upper floors have bedrooms, a 'war room' with a large sand table for drawing out battle plans. As she walks from room to room, things pop into her head in a crisp fashion. Purposes, but not answers. Raw information.
An armory sits empty, the weapons gone, spider webs taking their place. At the top, the battlements are dirty, wind swept leaves accumulated until there's dirt and small bushes growing in the dirt.
Filthy place.. people would be whipped for leaving it in this shape... The thought comes unbidden.
Finally, the last place looked, with some trepidation. The basement. Or rather, given this is a keep, the dungeon. Skeletons in cells, a rack, an iron maiden, whips, tongs, hammers. And grisly stains. Rusty implements scattered around in disarray.
By the time Neri reaches the doorway, his body is coated with sweat from the heat. The leather smells burned, and the outer layer of the wrap is starting to char.
Always gotta do things the hard way... The thought flares, but there's a tinge of amusement this time. Nice and toasty in here...
Inside the cave opens up on... a volcano. Or rather, what's left of a volcano. There's a red stone bridge that extends out over the open caldera of the miniature volcano. A large round central platform suspended a dozen feet above the black rock that was once magma.
In the center of the platform is a large dias, with a large black bowl set in the center. Neri has a flash of 5 rings and a torch, a memory dredged up from his past.
Those outside notice people dressed in simple clothes from various historical periods exit the bone house. A woman in a black dress that looks right out of puritan Salem begins to slowly and methodically trim the bushes and pull weeds. A man in chain mail armor begins to pick up loose branches and other detritus.
A third man in leather pants and shirt exits and slowly climbs onto the roof of the bone house, a sack on his back. Out of the sack he pulls long white lengths that look like bone and begins to hammer them into the roof where there are holes.
Neri moved hurriedly towards the dais as he looked around for any rings, torches, or the like. Anything else that might draw his attention at all, really. "Any chance you know how to turn up the air conditioning in here?" he asked himself. "And so help me, if I activate this volcano, I will... probably run.
Neri begins to hear a 'ching ching' sound at the edges of his perception... like an echo...
"Yeah. I was expecting manifesting my sword and stabbing it into the dais was an option, if I didn't see anything else. Way ahead of you, thanks, though, Id."
If he didn't find anything else that would work idyllically, he'd look over the dais to ensure there wasn't something more obvious to do. Like taking rings from the sword and placing them into spaces, or using the sword like a key. The metal reminded him of flames, so maybe it had some flint in it or the like. Could at least make some minor sparks.
Luna called over to the strangers emerging from the house loud enough that she hoped the ones inside could hear her."Hello, are you lot lost like me?"
As Neri looks it over and doesn't find anything, he scrapes the blade on the dais and sparks are made. Nothing happens on the dais, but he does notice that for a second the reddish black sword seems to glow slightly where the sparks were, but then it fades.
Cold steel... The thought burns. Cold steel in a volcano... something off there... Despite the heat, Neri breaks out in goosebumps and shivers, as if the blade he manifested was sucking the heat out of his body.
The strangers pause momentarily, three heads turning slowly in Luna's direction. Then they slowly return to their work.
Neri went with it. He had plenty of heat. "If you're controlling the blade, Id, take as much heat as you like. I have plenty."
Rings could mean walking in circles. So he walked around the edge of the dais, moving as quickly as he reasonably could, running the blade along the dais like a whetstone.
Luna carefully approached the group ready to summon her weapon if needed."Hello, do you know what's going on here?"
Hard to whip them if they've been dead for centuries, though. If I'm going to live here, it'll have to be clean. And the bones will have to go. That's first order of business.
Lina ditched the dungeon in some hurry. She looked around for a way to get the skeletons hanging from the battlements down. If tied by chains, she'll look for a way to unhook them. If tied up with rope, she'll open the knots or finda blade or a rock to cut the rope with. Once she's got them down, she lays them out in the courtyard.
Next up are the horse bones, mucking out, as it were, and finally, the dungeon. It'll take her some time to move them all, laying them out in neat rows, in part to clean up, and in part to take stock of the destruction wrought here.
Sterling wakes and sits upright on his bed. Slippers. he cries. A mechanical servant trundles into his room. It's arms extend themselves to the floor, retrieving and clothing the banker in one swift movement. Sterling stands.
Robe It's a dance of mechanical bronze colored movements, a robe is wrapped around Lumpy.
He smirks. Draw a bath. Hot. The servant trundles off.
Sterling pulls a cigar from the humidor in his suit's breast pocket. He cuts the cigar. He runs it under his nose and breaths in its warm flavor. He lights it and puffs. A grin spreads to a smile. Yeah.
Lumpy luxuriated in the bath and relaxes for a long time. He orders his butlers to clean and cloth him.
Breakfast Random The cook can be heard in the kitchen coming to life.
It's time for a party, my mechanical friends. Lumpy set the bots in motion to create a banquet. He has them to set a large bonfire out front as a signal.
The Kong that awakes is a changed man...with a deeper understanding of laws he never truly believed in before, and abilities he had only dreamed of.
It falls into place, now...and I truly understand why...when I became fascinated with death and the occult...I was getting glimpses of a part of me...and of the world...I never would have known existed. The barrier between life...and death...isn't a barrier at all, but more of a flexible membrane...
He spends an hour communing with the poppet...looks over a place...which still unfamiliar...seems much more...appropriate...and goes to check the pantry, as that one thing hadn't changed. Not yet.
As Luna approaches, the people working don't pay much attention, until she says something. When she does, they all turn toward her, heads turning slowly.
When they do, she gets a good look at them. They are all deathly grey of skin, and their eyes are whitened over, the pupils barely visible through the haze of white. No expressions mar their faces. Then they all turn back to their work, hands moving with slow methodical motions, no wasted movement, no variation.
As Lina begins to clean, her world narrows and her focus sharpens onto the task at hand. Her perceptions close out the outside world, she even manages to ignore the fact she's carrying out the skeletons of human beings who died hard. The stalls, the kitchen, the bedrooms, one room after another. The more she does, the faster she moves, and the less she can even tell what she's doing. One blur after another, move this, clean that, neaten it up, tidy, repair, rub with oils...
Then the cadets interrupt her work, and she barks orders at them, the younger men and women jerking and jumping, heaving to and speeding up the work, multiple hands working much faster than just Lina's.
Soon Lina's not cleaning, she's stalking the fortress, upbraiding men and women in armor for letting it get in this state, chewing a strip out of their hides (verbally) as they work harder and harder to get the fortress back in shape.
Finally, standing on the ramparts, she turns to the Garrison Commander, an older man in full plate, a black horse on his shoulder as an insignia. "The garrison is back in proper shape, Lady Mines.. Mine.. Lady Lina. The dungeon will be set right by morning, so if you bring any prisoners back we'll be ready for them, Ma'am." The man salutes Lina. More soldiers stand guard on the battlements, watching for attackers.
Lina feels dizzy as the man speaks. Flags fly from the battlements, and her fingers ache. She pulls her gauntlets off, checking her fingers. Her nails are longer than they should be, cracked and bloodied in places. Bloody blisters from hard work dot her palms, as if she'd worked for days straight.
Lina sways on her feet, and she reaches out for her lance instinctively, the metal clanks on the stone as she steadies herself. She's about to tell the man 'good job' when the world swims and she topples over, the steel lamellar crashing like a thousand cymbals as she slams into the stone floor.
Noise near the inn suddenly ceases. The crashing of hammers, the sounds of saws, all vanish.
Then the gas lantern on the front of the inn bursts into flames, lighting the porch. Then the sounds of people talking begin to emminate from the inn. The voices sound like they are boistrous and unconcerned.
I don't have enough heat to light a volcano... The thought pops and crackles in Neri's mind. Almost at the same time the leather wraps spark and crackle, the heat from the outside of the volcano having left them smouldering.
The fortress that Lina entered seems to blur to those outside it. When it snaps back into focus, the stones have been cleaned. Newly mended flags fly from the ramparts. Men and women in armor walk the walls, watching for intruders.
"The intent is not to light it, Id. That's a bad idea. I'm allergic to magma. If you're sure this is what I'm supposed to do?"
If the voice acknowledges it... he cuts a strip of the leather from his garments, exposing a bit of flesh, then waits for the leather to catch fire on its own, dragging his glove up to guard his fingers to some degree... and tossing it onto the dais.
The sword... is cold... it needs... heat...lots... of heat... The thought flickers weakly. The heat in the volcano feels like it drops just a bit, almost flickering in time with the flickers in the thought.
[/i]
Neri sighed, looking for a way to heat the sword. He was rapidly running out of time before he was just going to be exhausted... and putting it into the lava was out of the question. It'd be gone as soon as it left his hand.
Exhausted after the spectacle of sound and animated objects, Jake passed out in short order. When he awoke, the world was somehow clearer. But clarity was not always reassuring.
Drake...
The adrenaline had left his system now, the undercurrents of emotion and reason finally having a voice over instinct, Jake ratified the reality around him in his mind. I'm still here, so this is no dream. I wasn't killed overnight, so whoever did the capturing is in this for more than a quick thrill. And it's clear we are a long way from home, from Drake...
Jake hadn't expected it, but the thought made him terrified. The two had been together for eighteen months, but during that time, the longest they'd been apart for was a long weekend. Given the change terrain here - let alone circumstance - this would be a much longer hiatus. If I even make it back alive.
Yet there was hope. The new companions he found were helpful, and he felt a mercurial energy welling within him which felt somehow familiar. It took him a moment, but the idea came to him: a connection with water. There had always been a bond there for Jake growing up on the island whether it was on a sailboat, watching the rain, or swimming in the Great Lakes. The fluid had flowed into those buckets nearly effortlessly as he played. He held out his hand, focusing for a moment on an image of a brook in his mind; a moment later, a spout of pure hydration emerged.
Wonderful!.. At least we won't die of thirst.
Yet as he grabbed the rapier seemingly meant for him and adjusted his new links before going in search of the others, the emptiness remained in his heart which no water could fill. Drake had come at a dark time in his life. To return to that malicious abyss was ... no, that won't happen. I'm going home!
So it was the unlikely bard set off after his companions, attracted to a beacon of a bonfire, hoping to offer them drink and direction for whatever trials lay before them.
As Jacob exits the room, the sounds hit him like a slap in the face. People talking, chatting, having a good time. The smell also hits him, meat, cooked and spiced, and something else, vegetables, roasted...
Walking down the stairs into the main room, Jacob see's a dozen people in a mixture of clothes and types. Mostly men, but a few women here and there. Specifically the waitresses dressed in low cut peasant blouses, a woman in leather with a tri-corner hat, and a woman with heavy rouge on her face sitting at the bar in what looks like a working girls dress from the 1800's.
The bartender, a jovial looking man with a beer gut and a big beard looks up at the stairs. "Hey you lot, looks like the boss is feelin' better! How ya doin' boss?" The tavern goers look up and raise their glasses in a cheer.
One of them, a man with a beard to his belly and long scraggly hair and missing teeth calls out. "Hey! He's better! Let's celebrate! Round on the house!" This is met by a mix of cheers and cat calls from the rest of the tavern.
The positivity and energy was infectious and overwhelmed what hesitation Jake had about mingling with the strangers. It was possible this was also part of the game. He decided to play along with the portly man.
"Boss? I must've hit my head pretty hard. What is this town? Where am I?
The bartender looks confused, but then laughs. "Hah! Good one boss!"
One of the waitresses laughs. "He got you good with that one Da." She giggles, then slaps one of the patrons hard. "Hands to yourself Markus!" More laughter ensues as Markus's face turns red from the slap.
The front door opens, and another woman enters, carrying a big bow and some pheasants on her hip. "Hah, this place seems lively again for a change. Festus, got some pheasants for you." She holds them up. Then she sees Jacob, and tips her head. "Mr. Satr... Satrin..." She trails off in consternation.
The patrons blink and look confused. All of them looking toward Jacob in confusion.
Finally the whore on the bar stool laughs. "That's what happens when you call someone Boss all the time, you dolts. It's Mr. Jacob Friedrich Schönherr." She gives Jacob a saucy grin.
Everyone looks a bit confused for a second, then the hunter nods. "Right, Mr. Jacob." She nods at Jacob.
Then the rest of the bar nods, going back to their previous joviality. The bartender wipes his forehead with a bar rag. "Sorry Boss, just been awhile since I heard your name." He turns to the hunter. "I'll take the pheasants at the usual price? And toss in a free meal and ale to celebrate the boss returning?"
The hunter passes off the pheasants to one of the waitresses. "Won't turn down a bonus, works for me." She takes a seat at the bar and begins working on the ale the bartender pours for her.
Given that there was clearly nothing more to see here, and he was effectively out of time, Neri decided that he needed to leave the volcano before he simply died. He headed back outside to rest with a heavyhearted sigh. The entire volcano was apparently empty aside from the dais the magma, and the bridge. So whatever he was going to use, he'd have to take inside with him. He couldn't help but think that it looked like everyone else was having a significantly easier time. It was honestly a bit annoying. There were lanterns at the inn now, and a bonfire in front of the mansion.
Neri pursed his lips. After he finished resting, he'd head to the bonfire, grab a large flaming stick without a word, and head back to the volcano. This was stupid, and annoying, and bothersome. It made no sense to him to 'restart' a volcano that he was going to be inside. He tossed the flaming stick on the dais.
Luna slowly backed away from the strange faces, she needed to tell the others. She made her way to the nearest compound that she knew held one of her companions never taking her eyes off the strange new visitors.
As Neri begins descending the stairs, he realizes that as hot as it was inside the volcano, the stairs and the stone outside the volcano are far hotter. As if the source of heat were dying off, but the extremities of the volcano had not realized they were dead yet.
Ah... warmer... The thought seems stronger than before. Blade so cold... warmer... Despite the heat, Neri feels better on the steps than he did inside. The heat rises up off the stone in waves that beat at Neri pleasantly, despite the charring of his leather wraps.
When he returns with the stick and tosses it on the altar, the fire on the stick is sucked into the altar, which glows dull sullen red for a few seconds, then slowly goes back to black. As it does so, Neri realizes the dais seems to be made out of the same strange black and red metal as his sword. But the sword has some red tinge to it, which the black altar didn't... until heat was applied to it.
Neri tested the volcano's steps by holding his hand steadily closer to the stone to see whether the heat would affect him at all. It seemed definitive that it would, otherwise, why would he have wound up sweating from the heat earlier? So how could it be soothing -now-? At least now he knew that the metal liked heat... or at least ate it greedily.
He headed back to the mansion, and summoned the blade, sliding it into the bonfire, looking over the machines that were preparing the party silently, while he watched everything else slowly right itself, people beginning to move about. People working on Kong's building. The Inn alive with people. The robots just running around performing their duties. It was a lot more busy now. Like the big top going up after all of the driving.
If he was right about the blade, the real show would be starting soon.
When Neri sticks the blade int he fire, it begins turning brighter red. It get's to a dull red and then stays steady. Even past the time Neri can normally keep it out, it continues to stay in his hand, as if the fire is sustaining the blade now.
Better... Better... hotter... much hotter...
Well, this is a twist I at least know how to play in their game.
Jacob made his way through the busy tavern, no stranger to crowds as tourists were twice as bad. His face was an affable smile, but there was purpose behind the facade. Reaching the hunter, he struck up a conversation.
"I was just telling the barkeep I must've hit my head pretty bad; I don't remember much about this place at all, but you seem to remember me. Mr. Ster... He attempted to fish his predecessor's name out of the ranger woman as they spoke. "I forget your name too, so pardon me...it's a bit of a sin with a lovely face like yours. Anything interesting going on in these parts lately?"
Harry isn't all that experienced with industrial buildings, but he does understand 'coal burns'. There are carts that are still functional, and shovels. Harry actually finds it calming, the rhythm of scooping the coal into the cart, over and over.
Moving the cart to the biggest smelter, the cart dumps into the smelter. Harry only intended to fill the big one, but he finds himself filling the smaller ones as well, until they are all full of the coal.
Next comes starting the coal, some pitch blend poured on each load of coal, and then flint and steel to start the pitch blend burning. The flames spread quickly, and the coal begins to burn fiercely. Smoke goes up the smoke stacks. The smell somehow soothing.
Then the bellows, Harry begins pumping the biggest set by hand, moving the lever arm up and down. It's hard at first... but then the foreman whistles and sends several of the workers over to help. The strong armed men in leather aprons grunt and strain, building up the force of air, making the coal burn hotter. The sounds of chains moving begin to fill the area, hammers on anvils, the roar of the furnace.
The next bit of time is a blur as well, directing the workers to get the furnaces up and running, the buckets cleaned out, the slag thrown away.
Finally though, everything is up and running, and the foreman wipes his sweaty coal streaked forehead. "Sir? Everything's up and running again. Melodee's got the glassworks blowing again. Robard has the soft metal furnace up and working, so anything brass or lead or copper or iron we need. Taggert has the leather shop working, he's complaining someone didn't oil the leathers properly for storage, so it might be ab it before he can replenish stock. Aergen's got her hard metal smelter working, so we can do steel mithral and adamantine. But our stocks on the last two are all but drained. The bulk smelter is up and running too, of course." He nods at the big smelter. "So we can handle raw ore processing again."
Harry nods, resting his hands on the hammer on his hip. It was a lot of work, days of it... wasn't it? His vision swims, his face itches where the beard has grown out unkempt. His chainmail armor rattles as he sways on his feet. "Good work.. Rupert..." The name comes to his lips... and then he crashes to the ground, his armor's clatter lost in the noise of the workshop.
The foundry building suddenly begins belching out smoke, thick white smoke and the smell of molten metal and burned coal drifts over the lake. The sounds of metal pounding on metal echoes over the lake.
Well, this is a twist I at least know how to play in their game.
[dice=bluff]1d20+8
Jacob made his way through the busy tavern, no stranger to crowds as tourists were twice as bad. His face was an affable smile, but there was purpose behind the facade. Reaching the hunter, he struck up a conversation.
"I was just telling the barkeep I must've hit my head pretty bad; I don't remember much about this place at all, but you seem to remember me. Mr. Ster... He attempted to fish his predecessor's name out of the ranger woman as they spoke. "I forget your name too, so pardon me...it's a bit of a sin with a lovely face like yours. Anything interesting going on in these parts lately?"
[Dice=diplomacy]1d20+11
Jacob plans on stumbling on her name, but as he does, his lips betray him. "...Ms. Woodsong..." Breaking his diplomatic attempt and causing him to stumble slighty into the compliment and question.
The woman laughs. "Same 'ol Same 'ol. King's raisin' taxes. People die of old age. Forest is still better than the city. You know how it is."