2020-10-03: Web of Horrors Chapter 1B: Schaffenvolkvania
| Schaffenvolkvania | |
|---|---|
| Three intrepid Netrunners head into one of the open worlds at the periphery of the spreading corruption in the Digital Web and investigate the means by which the corruption is spreading from it. | |
| IC Date | October 3rd, 2020 |
| Players | Noire Automata/Integra, ThunderStone37/Jolteon/Maria, Rufus/Trevor Belmont and Vivian (ST) |
| Location | Corrupted Sector Schaffenvolksgrad, Digital Web |
| Prp/Tp | Web of Horrors |
| Spheres | Mage, Mortal+ |
In a nicely (if sparsely) formatted Sector, three Icons meet up. Blue lines of data streak across the endless sky, routing packets of information to their intended destinations like constant meteors. In the sector there is only a round table (textured to look and feel like an old Victorian wooden heirloom) and several plush extra-comfy chairs. Who set this Sector up is unknown; only that it is open to all and at the periphery of the Corruption that is slowly eating away at the local subnet in Prospect.
Corrupted sectors wasn't something the Drone played around with; certainly their would be times she could fool about as an ICON - but fully immersed her avatar was something completely different. She looked like a character ripped from a dystopian future, the likes most saw from console games like Destiny. Clothed in earthly tones and scrap bandages, she wore a black set of armor and matching helmet. Her voice digital, cold, robotic and calculating. The full essence of a machine like A.I. in control. Noire leaned against a wall, probably not pleased.
Ooh. AR glasses! Evie's trying them out for real this time, connecting to this thing called the "Digital Web" that she's heard about. Totally different from the Internet, we swear. There's like, these sectors, and data, and wow. Totally ripping off of Tron here. But it's cool! Now let's see... oh, she needs to choose an icon? Hm. She plays around with a few settings and decides on... well, herself. Except with a leather jacket and higher-heeled boots than she'd even consider in meatspace. Perfect.
Rufus ZAPS into the Sector. He looks around at the table and then looks off towad the corruption in the periphery. His eyes begin to dilate like lenses, widening the + and - that are his eyes as he frowns, considering. "....Huh." He says, to no one in particular as if speaking divine wisdom no one could possibly know. "Well that sucks."
ThunderStone37 starts speaking aloud - seems her glasses at least came equipped with a mic. "Oh hey, a ready room for hooooooly smokes why are the graphics all glitchy." She's noticed the corruption near everyone's current sector, sizing up the scenario. "How'd I get dropped in here? Is this... oh. Ohhhhhhhhhhh this is what she meant." She is plainly, /plainly/ an utter n00b here. "So I'm guessing that isn't supposed to look like that?"
Rufus looks at ThunderStone and shakes his head. "That's a negative, tower." He frowns. "I did a few calculations of some of the adjoining sectors from here. The ones that are fucked up at least." He opines. "Sector 1 (for sake of ease), is a black and white bleak cityscape. There's some oddities there but I cant triangulate their cause. Nothing there it seems like. Just hills, a city in the distance and very ominous scenery. Sector 2, is a Prospect-Ruin-Sim. All burning and blown the fuck out with looters and rioters everywhere. Format rules will make us conform, somehow, to behaviors endemic of the Sector. What those are? Who the hell knows."
A slight trail of smoke follows Noire, like an after image or delayed effect. Her voice completely synthetic, <<Sectors down. The grid has a problem. New players probably shouldn't go in... but I'll escort you if desired. It's probably a WyRm-Virus. What a horrible night to have a DeRez.>>, cackling and eyeing the two others through her black mask. Her voice sounded female, like a bitter car GPS.
ThunderStone37 isn't the least bit deterred by Noire's warning. "New player is /way/ too curious to turn about. Besides, what's the worst that can happen? My gear gets fried?" She stops a bit to consider how much her glasses cost. "...okay, fine, couple thousand dollars isn't something to take lightly. I'll avoid poking things randomly at least." She gives Rufus a nod in thanks for his information. "I guess we poke at Sector 1 first? At least that one we won't have any unknown rules imposed on us."
Rufus nods to ThunderStone. "Creepier sectors are always the funnest. Looks like it's time to nut-up or shut up." He looks down at his inner forearm, illuminating a set of holokeys that are illuminated by the datastream in his arm. "IP Sector coordinates are...." He says the sector coordinates for the two of them, since it seems Noire is coming too.
Noire claps, <<ThunderStone37, that a Pokemon reference? I was always a Eevee fan myself. Favorite Pokemon actually. Leafeon is probably the coolest eeveelution, until a steel type comes out...>>, Noire states going full nerd for a moment. Facing Rufus, <<She doesn't know about getting your eggs cooked or your noodle span. YOLO.>>, Noire said stepping closer to Rufus. <<You strapped?>>
"Ooooooh!" ThunderStone nerds out right alongside Noire, bouncing about. "Ya-huh, yep yep! Eevee's my fave too. Though you can probably tell I lean more toward Jolteon myself. Sylveon's got the right idea but GameFreak's trying too hard there." She waves off the threat of egg-cookey like it's nothing, then moves on out into the sector to start exploring. Totally safe, L0L.
Rufus looks to Noire and blinks. "....What are you EVEN talking about?" He shakes his head. "Corrupted sectors and your talking about eggs and noodles." When Noire asks if he is strapped he shakes his head. "No." And then TRANSFER IN 3...2...1... POOF!.
<<Guess that will be the last of the calvary. Open sesame.>>, pounding on the white fog gate between Sectors. Noire switching zones as her interface was definitely inspired by Dark Souls.
ThunderStone blips offline for a bit, as end-user Evie works out how to change sectors. After a bit, her Icon blips back online, inside the sector. Server changes are /not/ intuitive, it would seem.
Most obviously, this whole sector seems to be entirely written in shades of grey; there's not a bit of color to be found, except in your own Icons (which stand out quite obviously). At regular intervals, the sky flashes to white and a few moments later there is the crashing of thunder, though strangely enough no rain -- but a constant howl of wind winds its way through the area. The landscape itself seems to be rolling hills offset by a jagged mountains, the fairly stark outline made even more bleak by the black-and-white aesthetic. A winding dirt road makes it way through the hills to a small village that looks taken right out of 18th century Eastern Europe, complete with single-pane windows made from small squares of poorly manufactured glass and pointed slate tiled roofs adorned with iron crosses. The road continues its circuitous path up towards the mountains where a somewhat-even segment has been hewn from the rock to accommodate the viaduct. While the road itself eventually winds out of sight, its assumed destination is not: a massive gothic castle with huge spiked flying buttresses lies at the top of the mountain range, oppressively shadowing over the town.
Most of the buildings on the street seem closed up tightly, wooden shutters on the windows battened down and no light spilling from the cracks. The only exceptions seem to be a two-story building with the sounds of merriment eliciting from inside and a smaller building right next to it with a sign hanging from the door that says: "Policia". The second story of the larger building hangs over the first, cantilevered against the side of the building by two sturdy wooden struts. Jutting out on a pole from one of these struts is a sign hung by two chains depicting a frothy mug and a bed in crude black ink.
As you enter the Sector, there is the definite feel of something peering at your data, stripping away the outer shell and examining the core of you. Cold and unyielding, stark like a camera, the feeling is like a slippery and slick ooze dripping down your spine.
ThunderStone37 draws very close to Rufus, shuddering in unease. "Is it normal for feelings of dread to come through a pair of glasses? And why do I feel like some program is /staring into my soul/? Eurgh..." Looking out into the distance, she nods toward the building marked "Policia". Seems like a good starting point, and ya know. If things get weirder, there's always logging right back out? Right? RIGHT!?
<<Hey, Jolteon. You stable?>>, Noire asks TS37 about her connection as the weird observation tries to analyze the black machine through her arcane/cloaking. Staring up into the sky and speaking to the Digital Web itself, <<Mother, May I?>>, as if challenging the unseen presence. Looking to Rufus, <<You good with cops? We might be stuck in a Castlevania clone? I'll be Integra Wingates Hellsing, you can be Trevor Belmont.>>
Rufus ZAPS into Frankenville and takes in the expected surroundings. He looks to EveeStone and Noire and frowns. "Hold on guys. Gimme a sec." He looks down at his forearm and begins typing, looking around. "I swear if this is Dracula I am going to be sooooooo disappointed." Cuz it's Frankenville! After typing frantically for a few seconds he hits EXECUTE as the vision of Noire and Thunderstone fractures and looks displaced, before righting itself again. "There. Data displacement prog. Should keep people from seeing our undies." He looks over at Noire and frowns. "....Trevors fine. Better than Simon. He was a piece of shit." Back to Thunderstone he gives a thumbs up. "Come on, brave adventurer. You're safe with us. You can be Sypha, the brainiac." Which means Noire is the only one out of Castlevania theme. Lamer.
The oozing presence abates on all the intrepid Netrunners as Rufus completes his manipulation. There is an ominous flash of lightening in the grey sky to punctuate the loss, but surely that is mere coincidence.
"Psh. I'm totally Maria Renard here." Jolteon relaxes as Rufus puts up his little shield. "And yeah. Stable. So we just ask the local police for the situation, see if they're friend or foe, that sort of thing. I'm assuming the rules here will at least sort of parallel the real world some? I mean, clearly we have solid ground to work on. We have roughly standard architecture. Weather patterns. Obviously the greyscale needs some work, but. You know."
Noire points to the Policia, <<Policia... what language is that? Spanish, Portuguese, Albanian? Yeah... this place could be European. I can download my language programs if needed?>>, Noire asked while giving a thumbs up to Rufus over the data displacement. <<Depends on the rules of the sector and what types of constraints are enforced. There's been Warzones in the past that appeal to the SAO or .hack fan base. Digital death appeals more than burning your clock out in a flesh suit. I'd always check what your getting into. Not all grid sectors are safe. But that's not advertised, for good reason. Users are generally corralled into safe play areas. But creepy pasta exists for a reason.>>
TS37 bounds along toward the police station. "Yeah, you should do the Matrix language pack thing Noire. Think the cops will inform us on local law if we ask? I'm gonna say yes." She carries along, slowing down just enough so that she doesn't arrive, like, an hour before the others do.
Rufus nods ot TS37. "It'd make sense. A good idea to get the rules of the sector before we hit the tavern. If we're crafty we might be able to notice if the sector rules are corrupted. Maybe the format glitched somewhere, might get a good look at the underbelly of Frankenville." He comments. "But don't look at me to do smooth talking." He votes himself out. "Especially if you can prog some language." He notes to Noire.
Noire chalks up a request for a language pack, getting a full download of 16 different ones likely to be used in the situation. Along the way, her avatar shimmers when passing by a tree and her prior Destiny outfit is changed to the local theme of the sector. The woman, Noire can be seen - just dolled up in a local constable outfit and looking like a NPC or ICON from the sector. "I got this...", she whispers to TS37 and pushes the door open to make a entrance. Attempting Albanian first as she introduced herself to the fellow police. A wave at Rufus to join them. She was fully immersed in the game!
Fortunately, the door to the Policia station is unlocked. There is a singular officer at work at a desk in the rather sparse police office, illuminated by a dim oil lamp that sends deep shadows skittering across the room with every flicker of the light grey flame. A set of three jail cells -- thick brick with iron bars one side -- lie down a short corridor to the back of the officer. Dressed in a surprisingly smart and polished grey uniform with shiny buttons down the front (in a colored world, they'd probably be brass), the officer looks up as the trio enter. He is balding, perhaps in his early fifties (though considering the technology level here, he could be much younger) with a bristle bar mustache and a single monocle covering his left eye. Raising an eyebrow curiously, the officer sits back on his chair, the seat creaking with the action as he folds his hands on his desk.
"Strangers," he intones neutrally in heavily accented English, apparently not fooled by Noire's attire, "We don't get many here in Schaffenvolksgrad. How may I help you?" The accent is... difficult to nail down. It sounds Eastern European, definitely, but what particular area is completely unknown.
The Eeveelution does enter the police station, but as requested, allows Noire to do the talking. She does note that the lone officer in fact speaks English, useful if she plans to interject.
Rufus looks between Noire and TS37 when Noire waves Rufus to follow. "Gotta put on my Belmont face." He says, following Noire into the Police building. He makes no effort to hide his appearance, as he walks up next to Noire. When the Police asks what they are up to Rufus nods to the officer. As Noire is the talker, Rufus uses the opportunity to get a good look at the area. He has time, so he'll relax and peruse while remaining close to his companion travelers.
Noire brushes off her dull grey uniform and inspects the buttons as if she wanted them to be polished. "I am escorting two new transfers to our lovely city. They wish to support our Schaffenvolksgrad and prove themselves to become proper citizens. Do we have any quests or missions that they can conduct to prove their loyalty?", using her left hand to appraise and show off how awesome Rufus and TS37 were. "They could be the hero's we have been looking for!", she states as towns like these generally always has trouble to be solved by foreigners willing to lend assistance. Game logic 101, NPC vs PC.
The officer pauses, his eyebrows slowly arching as Noire explains her and the others' presence. The pause continues before he speaks again, slowly and in that strangely accented English. "I... was not informed that we would be adding to the town," he intones, "But... I suppose the good Doctor doesn't always inform us of his... actions." There's a hint of displeasure there, but it's gone in a moment. His grey eyes wander over Rufus and ThunderStone37 briefly -- though they do linger on ThunderStone37 a bit longer and seem to come to some realization.
The officer smiles and motions to a small package in the corner of the room, "If you would be so kind, the Doctor's package has arrived. I have not had time to arrange for its delivery to the Castle. If you would do so, I would be very grateful..." his eyes wander again to ThunderStone37, "... as, I am sure, the good Doctor's Patron would be."
Rufus eyes the area and then looks to Jolteon and scratches the back of his head. He looks to the Police officer. "I'm a great fan of the Doctor's work. We'll be happy to take the package to him." He looks to Jolteon. "Won't we?" He nudges Jolteon. He gives Noire a look that suggests he has noticed something but doesn't say it out loud.
Jolteon looks all too eager to go along with what Rufus suggests. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Take the delivery, talk to the Doctor... um." Her hands collect the offered package, she shuffles off to the exit... then stops, and turns back around to the officer. "Oh, pardon me sir. How will we recognize him? The castle is rather large, and I doubt he'd appreciate it if we gave this package to just anyone there." Stalling herself just a bit, even if she looks very much like she'd rather just take off and deliver the damn thing already.
"Are you now?" the officer says blandly to Rufus, fixing his grey stare on the man, "I suppose considering his scientific pursuits, he would have some who are, as you say, 'fans'." The tone seems to suggest that the police man doesn't think too highly of whatever these 'scientific pursuits' might be.
A faint frown creases the police officer's features as he regards ThunderStone37 curiously. "I would've thought you already knew the good Doctor's appearance, dear lady, considering you were brought here on his voucher, yes?" A pause. "But if not, you needn't worry. Only the Count, the Doctor, and his assistant live at the Castle. And the lot of them are thick as thieves."
The officer raises a hand, a single index finger extended. "If I may offer some advice," he says, "Beware the wolves on the path to the Castle. Take heed and be cautious as those mountain paths are... treacherous." He takes a deep breath. "As such, I would suggest you hire Borovich to take you." A faint smile spreads on the police officer's lips, "The carriage driver can almost certainly be found in the tavern at this time of night."
Noire removes her own monocle and polishes it, not saying anything further as she pushes the eyepiece back in place. "Excellent, I will escort these two to the tavern to hire Borovich as our guide. Thank you so much, sir!", Noire chips happily but with a solemn disdainful undertone. "Out with ye, we got errands to run.", shooing them out politely. At least she didn't hit up the tavern first and was transformed into a busty tavern wench. The game might crash.
The officer considers the retreating three and raises a hand. "Fare thee well," he intones in that strange accent as they leave, "May you leave some of the happiness that you bring."
Rufus steps outside of the Policia and before Noire has the opportunity to escort them off to the tavern grabs both Jolteon and Noire's arms. "Hold up." He says. "I think I have a good idea of this setup." He says. "Okay. This is straight up Frankenstein." He says. "I'm pretty sure whoever formatted it based it off the movies. Explains the untraceable Eastern European accent. Fake accent's aren't a thing." He explains. "But. I think we have a mash-up. Count? No Count in Castle Frankenstein, so that means good ol' Dracula. Womanizer, panderer, sneaking into women's beds at night and biting them and all that stuff." He jets a thumb back to the police station. "Trash can in the Policia had a massive stack of missing persons. All women. Frankenstein didn't need THAT many bodies for the monster, and it might explain the brain-fries in meatspace. Not so much the Frankenstein doing his monster thing, but the Count doing his Womanizer thing." He looks at Jolteon. "I am guessing, more than likely, you are at risk. The police officer seemed to take an interest in you, I am guessing for that reason."
"Sounds about right....." Jolteon still has package in tow, tugging at Rufus' arm to hurry them up. "We taking the carriage then? We at least know what to expect, I've got two bodyguards, and I... uh... /think/ I'm familiar with how fangs work by now? Shoot." Tug tug tug. "So we going? If nothing else we'll see how it plays out. And besides, a reminder? I am not exactly Matrixed in here. I'll be /fine/."
Noire lights up a cigar, all her items were now in theme to the world as she used a match book to light up. "Don't forgot the /Bride/ of Frankenstein, Rufus. The poor gentleman is likely just as lonely. Thunderstone could give that monster just the Jolteon he needs to rise to the occasion.", stepping forth towards the tavern and chuckling. "You certainly are eager for a spooky date, sugar. Kids these days...", teasing and looking back at the two while puffing the tobacco. "Should we pry into the mysterious package? I figure the monsters will turn on us and attempt to kill us, either way?", Noire smirks. Her boots stamping through mud. "Might as well peek."
Rufus looks at the unperturbed companions and then follows toward the tavern, having nothing else to say of the matter. "Might as well." He comments, gesturing them into the Tavern.
Jolteon attempts to hand the package off to Noire. "All yours."
The tavern is a lively place with patrons drinking and gambling and generally carousing all over the place. The Master is standing at the bar at the far side of the room, kegs and bottles of various alcohol situated on a shelf behind him. A smattering of round tables is dotted around the room with rather poorly made chairs accompanying them, the tavern goers sitting and engaging in their respective vices in tandem. Every so often one of patron rises to go to the bar to retrieve a new drink or a round for their buddies at the table they happen to have nested.
The babble of voices suddenly cuts off as the door opens and the three enter, every eye in the place turning towards them. Some of the looks are simply mildly surprised. Others are filled with anger. And still others have a hint of pity about them. Several beats pass before the patrons start to return to their drinks and conversation, but the former raucous atmosphere is now substantially muted.
"Borovich! We got a package delivery to the castle, hurry and finish your round. Not often do we have a job to do and with such a lovely lady in our midst!", thumbing over her shoulder to TS37. Puffing her cigar, Noire checked her pockets for credits and gold coins. Something to be used as fair, "The horses ready? We can't be late again like last time....", shuddering at the thought. "The wolves get hungry this time of year. We best... be careful.", Noire trying to lure the driver out. If she failed, it was Rufus's turn.
Again, the all activity in the tavern ceases as every eye moves to regard Noire. Whispers among the crowd about the castle permeate the room before a haggard, thin man with stubble and deep bags under his eyes slowly rises from one of the tables. With uneven steps, the man approaches the trio, his breath stinking of cheap alcohol. Blearily, his eyes rove over ThunderStone37, then Rufus, before finally alighting on Noire and staring at her.
"You... want to go to the Castle?" he asks, words drunkenly slurred, "At -this- time a night? You must be insane!" He lets out a hard laugh, providing a wonderful bouquet of alcohol and halitosis right in Noir's face.
Jolteon holds up the package to be delivered, apparently still having it. Maybe. "The Doctor sorely needs this, good sir, and we'd like to get it there before the morrow. We are quite aware of the risks." A nod to Noire, she adds, "We really mustn't be late again."
More hushed whispers drift throughout the tavern as the patrons look over at the package. The drunken man turns his unfocused gaze there as well, staring at it and frowning. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and runs a hand down his face, swallowing visibly. "For the good Doctor, I presume," he says with acid in his voice, spitting on the ground and scowling. But then his face fixes into a mask and he looks at the trio, seemingly much more sober. "Very well," he says, "It will... take me a few minutes to ready the carriage and horses. Meet me outside. I will join you shortly..."
With the air of a man trudging to the gallows, the sallow-faced drunk muscles his way between the Netrunners and exits the tavern.
At this point, Rufus needed to log out of the Digital Web for Something Important... but fortunately the Correspondence Shield still remains.
With a gleam off her monocle, Noire looks to Jolteon and gives a anime thumbs up. A weird expression on her face as Rufus logs out without a word. "Guess it's just you and me....", she states with a nervous chuckle. Swiping a mug of beer from the bar and draining it shotgun style, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Noire then approaches her charge, "Guess we wait outside.", leading the way and opening the door for her fellow player.
Oh goodie. The one player she knows from elsewhere, gone. Jolteon is stuck learning the ropes... in a corrupted sector... with an unfamiliar partner. How can this possibly go wrong?
She skips the beer. Not that she expected to end up drunk, it's just she doesn't really need to. She follows Noire outside, ducking out of sight to change her Icon's clothes to something more early 20th century. A plain-ish full-length peach dress with short sleeves. A flat downgrade as far as fighting wolves goes, but the damsel in distress must look the part! When she comes back to meet up with Noire again, she says, "Okay. I may be new but I swear I'm not /completely/ helpless here..."
An eerie grey fog, clinging to the ground, begins to roll into the area. While it does little to disrupt sight beyond ankle-level, it does cast an even more dreary atmosphere over everything. The sound of hooves on the dirt road and the creak of wooden wheels can be heard heralding the arrival of a carriage, melting in from the gloom. Atop the coachman's seat is the man from the pub -- presumably Borovich -- and he has put on a dapper hat and a vest. Wielding a crop in one hand and the reigns in another, the set of two horses that power the conveyance nicker nervously.
"If you'll come aboard, Miss and Miss," Borovich intones, reaching behind him and unlatching the door to the carriage.
Noire raises a brow and then tries to assuage Thunder, "Hey, I never said you were helpless... Princess Peach. I just don't want you kidnapped and taken to another castle.", trying to be punny in the grim situation. "Look, everyone's died in Video Games. That's the point, to have failures and successes. I don't care your a newb. I only care that you get home safe.", letting Jolteon climb aboard before following into the carriage. "Look, I'm team Thunderstone37. I got your back."
Package in her arms, Jolteon carefully makes her way over and into the carriage, taking a bit of effort to climb inside. "Thank you very much, good sir." Once seated, she gives the yet- unknown package a home on her lap, dress skirt smoothed out in front of her, legs firm on the ground and together. Just like a good proper lady. She waits for Noire to join her in the carriage before replying. "Actually, maybe I /am/ helpless in this scenario." There's a wink implying she's not serious about that. "Or rather, I'm the bait. Whatever's dangerous around here will want me first, so you can relax and focus on whatever the hell the win condition is. I'll just focus on survival and giving you as much time as I can."
The interior of the carriage is surprisingly well appointed, with the benches on either side of the door padded with cloth. Once the pair are in side, Borovich clicks his tongue and shakes of the reigns, the carriage beginning to move down the dirt road. Shocks are apparently something of an afterthought for the carriage, though, and it's quite a bumpy ride; thank goodness for the padded benches -- at least in Noire's case. With the equipment ThunderStone37 is using, there is very little sensation of touch beyond what the visuals might trick her into thinking she feels.
Both logged-in users fully in the carriage, Jolteon passes the package over to Noire. "You wanted to see inside, right? What are we dealing with?"
"Alright, Thunder... I'll play it your way. But maybe create a safety word in case things get too dangerous and you --- Oomf", Noire paused while bouncing into the seats. "Create a safety word in case things go sideways and I know your not playing bait anymore. I'll take the kid gloves off.", nodding as her decadent dark hair fell in curls about her face. Brushing them away with faux angst, "What's in the box?", she whispers in her best Brad Pitt impersonation and a total reference to the movie Se7en. Noire was totally expecting a head or severed body part.
Noire A and ThunderStone37 have alighted into a carriage driven by the drunk from the tavern. The ground is obscured by a constant rolling fog that hangs low to it as the carriage rolls along the dirt road. Howls of wolves echo into the grey night as the constant storm overhead seems to grow in ferocity as the carriage travels along. The interior of the carriage is surprisingly well appointed, with the benches on either side of the door padded with cloth, though it doesn't quite do enough to remove the constant bumpiness that a lack of paved road and shocks deliver. The speed seems to be surprisingly fast considering the unpaved road and the fact that it's literally two horsepower. Before long, the town of Schaffenvolksgrad disappears into the gloom and only the forest on either side of the carriage and the mountain with its Castle can be seen through the windows.
Once the paper is ripped off the package, the box is revealed to be simple wood, secured with leather straps round the outside. The straps are easily undone and the box opened; inside, surrounded by straw as a cushion, is some kind of complex glasswork. Several electrodes can be seen inside surrounding an intricately crafted maze of tiny grey circuitry, leading to two metallic prongs on the edge. It looks like an old-style vacuum tube, but much more complex and the circuitry looks surprisingly modern.
ZAP comes Rufus, popping back into the carriage. "Silly." He shakes his head. "Mischief managed. Oh hey. You opened the box." He looks over and eyes it. He gingerly takes the bauble with a hand and brings it closer, looking at it more closely...
Farther along the path the carriage speeds, now reaching the foothills of the mountain itself. Past the windows into the gradually thinning forests of craggy grey trees, one might be able to spot pinpricks of light, always in pairs, shining towards the carriage. They seem to be following, shadowing the carriage as it continues its travel towards the ever-growing gothic castle. The grey clouds part in the sky and a full moon now shines down on the area, bathing everything in moody, dim light.
The glasswork item is surprisingly light, considering it is made of seemingly fairly thick glass and metal, and about the length of one's forearm.
Noire brushes off her monocle and shakes her head, "I have no idea what that might be. Clearly a marvel of our era...", perhaps slipping back in character and shrugging. The woman then looked outside the window and shouted at the driver. "Sir, sir! How far is the castle? I forgot my time piece and the lady is impatient!", she yells to Borovich. Slipping her eye piece back on as she waves to Rufus, "Welcome back player. Trying to use the Konami code?"
Jolteon for her part is just bouncing up and down as the carriage does, trying very much to keep her dress in place - though the bumping gets bad enough that she has to reposition her legs into a pragmatic stance. Sheesh. She takes a glance at the whatsit in the package Noire opened, and shrugs at it. "Oh. Well that's a bit of a letdown. Let's put it back and deliver this thing. Doc's got his stuff to work on after all." After a beat, and a couple more good jostles from the ride, she adds on, "There were only two or three people in the castle, right? Shouldn't be much of an issue."
Rufus sets the glass bauble down. "Some sort of capacitor and amplifier all at the same time. But the tech in here is super weird. This is obviously a transistor...but I have never seen a transistor like THIS before." He continued to eyes it. A few more seconds of looking and then he gently puts it back in the box. "Probably what's gonna zap the dead right out of the monster I would wager." He looks over at Noire and rolls his eyes. "Please. ABBA is faster." He looks to Jolteon and thinks, nodding. "That's what the cop said. Count. Doc, and the assistant. I mean, if we're going Universal Monsters up in here there could be a Renfield if the Count is Drac. The Monster might be about, if its the Bride." He nods to Noire's idea. "I wouldn't be surprised if the Wolfman is going to make an appearance with the amount of wolves out and about. I say let's just keep our eyes peeled and eyes on the prize. Whatever is causing the servers to go corrupt and brains to flatline."
Now on the mountain path proper, the eerie lights that were following before gradually wink out, apparently unwilling to follow on the narrow road carved from the rock. The spiked flying buttresses of the distant castle come into full relief now, made of some dark stone and expertly crafted. Now close enough to see more of the details, the castle itself seems to be very old, looking like something designed in the 14th century, but by a Heavy Metal time traveler. Iron spikes jut out into the grey sky from every peaked roof, and a open courtyard guarded by an open gatehouse can be seen in the distance; that is where the road leads and ends. One part of the castle seems distinctly out of place, however; at the highest tower, there is a geodesic dome, composed of glass and metal that shines like a beacon into the grey night. Odd, considering its prominence, that it wasn't noticeable before now.
Borovich looks over her shoulder as Noire speaks. "It won't be long now," he says gravely, raising his voice over the din of the creaking and rumbling carriage, "We will be at Castle Schaffenvolk shortly." He turns back to the road and can be heard muttering darkly under his breath.
Muttering under her own breath, "Load times...", Noire teases as she looks back to Rufus and Jolteon. "Why's he knocking ABBA?", trying not to face palm as she slicked back hair again. "Damn, look at that castle. I wish I had my cellphone. Probably be killed by the constraints. But what a place to have a selfie.", fixing up the package and sealing away the device. Then handing it back to Jolteon. "Safe word... hmm?", as they neared their destination.
Finally, the carriage reaches its destination, Borovich slowing the conveyance down as it rolls past the gatehouse and into the courtyard. The courtyard is paved in cobblestone and the horses hooves echo eerily on the rock. A set of curved stone steps lead up to a pair of double doors at the front of the castle. In front of the large double doors -- wooden with huge iron knockers on the front -- the carriage finally stops and Borovich leans back to unlatch the carriage egress. He looks around nervously, eyes twitching back and forth.
"Hurry," he says in a harsh whisper as if worried that his voice will carry and something unseen will launch out of the shadows if he was heard, "Get out. Be it on your own heads... this cursed place is a pox on all of Schaffenvolksgrad." With a fearful sneer, he spits on the ground.
Jolteon hops out the carriage and gives Borovich a polite nod of thanks for the ride. "We'll be as safe as we can, and thank you very much!" Once (hopefully) out of earshot of their chauffeur, she whispers over to Noire, "Be ready to /smash/ that thing at the slightest hint something's fucky. I'd bet my VR glasses this castle is the source of the corruption." A pause, then she realizes Noire's been asking a particular question several times now. "Oh, right. Safe word is 'Shrek'."
Rufus follows the other two out of the carriage and listens to the warning. "We will be fine. Don't worry." He nods to the carriage driver and then listens to the 'safe word' and nods. "I'll keep an eye on things." Rufus tells them as he takes up the rear.
Noire jumps from the carriage and spits on the old country, "Get out of here Borovich, before I tell the Good Doctor you broke his fimsle-famsle due to your reckless driving! Last thing we need is a repeat of Janet and Brad in the castle!", nodding to the V-Dept crew as she totally did not make a RHPS reference. "Whose manly enough to knock on them giant knockers?", pointing with her chin. "I hope I'm a main character. It always sucks when you find out too late."
As soon as the group exits the carriage, Borovich is closing the door and waving his reigns. He gives a fearful look at Noire, but doesn't linger, clicking his tongue to get the horses to move. The horses seem in just as much as a hurry to leave as their master is, quickly going to a trot and wheeling around in the courtyard before bolting to the exit. In very short order, the carriage has faded into the gloom.
Jolteon steps up once Borovich takes off and knock-knock-knocks on the front door. She doesn't wait for the door to open before calling out, "I've brought something for the good Doctor! If you could please let me in so I can deliver it to him?"
"Aren't I the Belmont here?" He says to Noire. "Why would you be the main character? Integra just sat at her desk until the very end. At least Jolteon is Maria. She ran off to the castle on her own at the very least." He teases, tucking his hands in his pockets. "Should I encode a Vampire Killer whip?" He considers as he begins to approach the castle, eyes peeled in observation having not forgotten his purpose here.
Noire eyes Rufus, "Integra was about leadership, lackey. Certainly, you do all the work. I reap all the benefits. You get to be in every episode, I narrate and help move the plot. Don't be jealous of our roles, Mr. Belmont. You'll likely fight the monsters in a glorious boss battle. While I dismantle the technical gizmo corrupting this realm. It's really all about team work.", Noire says completely teasing, but maybe revealing a portion of the plan. "I'd make that whip....", tying her hair into a ponytail. "Also, don't bash Hellsing either. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.", summoning two old school muskets into her hands and posing like a Bloodborne grammaton cleric, before the pistols vanished.
There is a long pause as the echos of the knock rumble throughout the castle. Eventually, there is the sound of wood against wood and, with a creak, one of the double doors begins to slowly open.
What is revealed there may be surprising, however; it's a young girl, perhaps just barely reaching adulthood. She is tall and has the easy, toned muscle of someone used to farmwork or other form of manual labor; she could be described as more 'cute' than 'beautiful', but there is definitely an air of attraction around her. Her fair hair -- white in this world of grey -- is tied up into two long pigtails that go down over her shoulders. She is wearing a simple one-piece dress that looks about two sizes too large for her, the hem reaching all the way to her feet.
She casts her gaze across each of the trio in turn, a smile on her lips -- but there is something vaguely predatory and sadistic about the expression. Her eyes alight on the box that ThunderStone37 still carries. "Oh! You have brought the Doktor's equipment!" she says with bright cheeriness, again in heavily accented English -- though this one sounds more Germanic than Eastern European, "Ja, ja, please come in!" She opens the door wide and ushers the trio inside.
Again there is a bit of a surprise as everyone goes inside. The interior is not some dreary, cobwebbed decaying manor, but rather brightly lit (with candles, but still), and well kept. A rich, exquisitely decorated carpet extends across the threshold into a large foyer, the double doors guarded by two armor stands containing full platemail. A long barring arm is bolted into the wall, currently in the upright position. Several tapestries hang from the walls, depicting a medieval battle against (what looks like) demons of some sort. A curving set of stone stairs curls up either wall, going to a landing above and further hallways.
"I am Greta Vulfsalter," the girl says as she looks over her shoulder playfully as she leads the way, again with that strangely predatory smile, "Count Schaffenvolk and Doktor von Neumann are at dinner. Would you like to join them? I'm sure your travels must have been... arduous... and I doubt they would mind the interruption. Especially considering the gift you have brought." She motions to the box and winks flirtatiously.
"Package." Maria Renard (formerly Jolteon) requests and takes the totally-never-opened box from Integra (formerly Noire). She then decides, for the moment, to follow Greta along. "We would love to accompany you, madam! Please, lead us on. It would truly be a pleasure to join them, if it would be no trouble." She nods for Integra and Trevor (formerly Rufus) to follow along.
Trevor Belmont sighs, murmuring to himself. "One small problem...." He says, grumbling as yes, he picks the Vampire Killer as his weapon of choice, and pins it to the belt that now serendipidously has a clasp to hang it from. The woman is observed, and while the woman is attractive...Rufus knows movies. One moment she is smiling at you, then she is eating your face AND liver at the same time. "You are two kind." he says. As they enter the castle he waits for the young waif to begin leading them. He walks near Maria and uses her closeness to tilt his arm and begin triangulating an algorithm. "Nice to meet you Frau Greta." He says, preparing for what he is supposed to do, which is triangulate the corruption. Not fight. Because spoiler alert, Trevor Belmont is more like....Frank DeNasty. He sucks in combat.
"Damn, Greta... I almost saw your ankle! You'll make this old cop blush...", Noire says semi-flirtatiously as her cheeks glowed red, Sin-City style in a world of near black and white. Waving her group towards the dining hall, "Ja ja ja, ve vould love to eat. Did you salt the wolves yourself?", perhaps punning a pun on Greta, Vulfsalter. But overall, Noire was trying to make the woman laugh. Everyone was so dreary and dark, could members of the castle... enjoy themselves? Following behind diligently, Greta. "By chance is there a powder room for ladies? I have not had a chance to prim and prep for the royalty of the Count and the Doctor. First appearances can be everything.", winking at Greta and staring at the hem of her dress and those lovely Amish like ankles. Whistling softly. -- Apparently Noire was potentially about to deviate from the plan. Such a deviant.
Maria hisses toward Integra. "Leave the poor lass alone! She is /trying/ to be a good host for us." A hostility in her tone highlighting that she might take more drastic measures should Integra/Noire fail to comply.
Greta sashays her way up the stairs to the landing and quickly peels off to one of the hallways. "Doktor von Neumann will be very pleased to have his little bauble," she says conversationally as she leads the way, "It was made at the University of Vienna, you know. I am told the quality is superb." Light, coquettish laughter rolls out of the girl as she again looks behind her at the trio, "But I am afraid my understanding of the sciences is lacking."
More laughter rises from the girl at Noire's antics. "Yes, there are many places here to... freshen up," she says to the Drone, looking at her with a wink, "But I think the good Doktor and Count will want a look at you first, hmm?"
Through a maze of winding passages, all alike, Greta guides the party before stopping a wide set of double doors -- these ones thinner and more decorative than the front door. Without so much as a knock, the girl opens one door and steps inside, calling out cheerfully, "Doktor! Count! You have visitors!"
Beyond the doors are a lushly appointed dining room, lit brightly by a chandelier and several oil lamps nestled in crevices on the walls. Another rich carpet flows over the stone floor encompassing almost the entirety, except for a small border at the very edges. A long, exquisitely carved wooden oak table is the centerpiece of the room, looking like it could comfortably seat at least thirty people. Currently, though, there is little use of the space -- only two people sit there.
One is a thin, dashingly handsome man appointed in finely tailored, if old-fashioned, clothing. In particular, he wears a high-collared black cape with silver lining. He positively - exudes- the air of an aristocrat, both in terms of condescending arrogance and in effortless refinement and poise. His short cropped black hair is slicked back, revealing a classic widow's peak. He has no place setting in front of him, but is drinking from a crystal wine glass -- and most strangely, the liquid has -color-. The vivid red of the liquid stands out from the rest of the grey Sector. He looks over as Greta enters, an expression of annoyed displeasure on his features and looking about ready to reproach the woman before the mention of 'guests'. His eyes pour over each of the trio, cold and appraising.
The other man is frazzled and wild-eyed, with a mass of tangled grey hair atop his head. He looks about in his thirties and is wearing an unbuttoned dress shirt that looks like it hasn't been changed in weeks and black slacks. Over all this he wears a lab coat. Before Greta came in, he was attacking a place setting voraciously, a set of finely cooked meat and vegetables disappearing in rapidity from it. As soon as she stepped inside, however, he paused in his manic eating and peered at the new arrival. There is a strange... hunger... in his eyes as he looks at the trio, which changes to elation as his eyes alight on the box.
"Ah! You brought it!" the quintessential mad scientist exclaims, jumping up and rushing over, his previously ravenously devoured meal forgotten as he reaches for the box with shaking hands.
Maria readily relinquishes the box in her hands to the mad scientist, seeming to be very much glad for him to have it. "Is everything going well, Herr Doktor?" She takes a break from speaking to send a private message (in whatever form they'd receive it) to both Integra and Trevor: "Greta sees us as playthings. Ground zero. The Count is exactly what you'd expect, Dracula. I'll deal with the manic Doc."
Having dashed that message out, she turns her full attention to the Doktor. "If it is no bother, might I accompany you in your work? I very much wish to watch, and I pray it goes well. I can even assist, should you require?"
While Maria might of seen Integra as teasing Greta; it rather wasn't - merely a different form of play. Two machines communicating and exchanging bytes and bits. Not all characters were written equally, some ICONS/Dolls/NPC's only serve a minor role. Their dialogue and mannerisms confined to a brief moment, often repeatedly to extreme redundancy - while larger characters stole the show.
Perhaps there was a belief in that a machine might awaken. Rumors of Galatea or Pinocchio had existed for ages. If that right script was unlocked in the proper dialogue tree, a puppet could be set free. But even in this digital web of illusion and harsh reality, the least Noire could do was shine the spotlight on characters and make them feel important for once. To treat the backdrop as not a side piece but a sum of the whole. "I apologize, Maria. I was not intending to poke fun at Greta, merely to engage her differently.", coughing her mouth to cough lightly; Noire ahems and tries again. "Thank for the introductions Frau Greta. You have been missed in the city. If you are able to come to the Policia or Tavern. Certainly our citizens would treat you to dinner and an ale. But you'd have to ask the Count and Doktor.", winking slyly at the woman. Was Noire seriously trying to play the romance card in such a situation? She was a enigma machine after all. Nodding to Trevor and Maria, "They are such Uber fans of your work.", Noire offers the monsters.
A cold, imperious smile slowly winds its way on the Count's features as he regards the trio. "Good evening," he says, again in the strange Eastern European semi-accent, "I am Count Schaffenvolk. Welcome to my house! Enter freely. Go safely, and leave something of the happiness you bring." He pauses to take an elegant sip of his 'wine' before continuing, an expression of mild distaste on his features as he looks to the lab coated Doctor and Greta. "You vill have to excuse the uncouth behavior of my associates. We do not get many visitors here in Castle Schaffenvolk."
Greta snorts rather derisively at Noire's comment. "I am sure the peasants in the village would rather see me dead than in their presence," she states matter-of-factly, "If I am missed, it is only because their tiny minds are imagining what mischief I am up to." She rather nonchalantly steps her way towards the remnants of the Doctor's forgotten meal -- her movements very light and dexterous, almost like she was dancing -- and immediately begins to pilfer the meat, stabbing it with a fork and stuffing it into her face with absolutely no class. Count Schaffenvolk glares disdainfully at her display of ill manners before turning his attention back to the trio, again the cold smile alighting his lips as he gestures to the table. "Please, do come join us. I am sure we can provide some comestibles that will satiate your palate." After saying this, he glares hard at Greta who pouts cutely and then turns to walk through a smaller door at the side of the room.
Doctor von Neumann, meanwhile, happily takes the box from Maria, spittle flying from his lips as he caresses the container. "Ja, finally," he murmurs in a voice on the brink of pure madness, the accent matching Greta's, "It's finally here... the last ingredient. The last component. I can remake the world!" It takes several moments before the Doctor snaps out of his gleeful reverie and turns to look at Maria, blinking as if just now noticing she was there. He straightens up and examines the party for a moment, suddenly appearing quite serious and sane. "Oh. Hello there," he says politely, strangely without a trace of the former Germanic accent, "Forgive my abruptness. I am Doctor Elrich von Neumann. Pleased to meet you all." But then when Maria offers to aid him in his work, the mad scientist's eyes return to their previous glint and he regards Maria with that first strangely hungry expression. "Ja, ja, of course," he says, accent suddenly returning, "I am sure I can... find you of use, Fraulein."
Maria takes a step back as the Doktor cycles through his apparently split personality mood swing. "Hey, hey! Calm down, just a moment please." She makes a show of readjusting the folds of her dress as her eyes follow Greta around, observing how the others react to her. Back to von Neumann, she offers a warm smile and continues. "Thank you. It truly is lucky we did not see our carriage shreked on the way here," sort of blending 'carriage' and 'shreked' to sound like a weirdly- pronounced 'carriage wreck'. "I need to say just one thing then I shall attend with you." With a pivot to Noire and a hand on her shoulder, she says - quite politely this time - "Do show Greta the hospitality she is due." A wink, before she readies to follow von Neumann.
Rufus has been quiet the entire time. He's been running his algorithm, and his attention has been transfixed not here....but elsewhere in the castle. More up, and slightly to the left. He even ignores the Count, and Greta's smarmy demeanor, and the Doctor's Creeper Face. He frowns, the calculations in his head saying that this is Bad. News. Bears. So. As Maria whispers to Noire to give Greta the Hospitality she is due Trevor looks to the Count. "Excuse me, Your Excellency." He says. "I think the carriage ride has taken a bit out of me. Might you point me to the privy? Tend to affairs before I settle in for a meal." He says, to shake the current run-time.
ThunderStone37 quickly pings Noire with a private message: "Wait til she's alone to try anything."
The female citizen of the realm in the old silver cop attire sits pleasantly, "I appreciate you inviting us into your lovely home. This feast looks amazing.", Noire said offering compliments and grabbing a empty plate and silverware to enjoy the meal. Shuffling tiny bits of excess onto her dish in an attempt to look engaged in the role of having etiquette and enjoying the activity of being social. "Oh, Doktor Neuman... I failed to mention that the road was very treacherous and bumpy and the driver Borovich was a bit drunk like usual. Unfortunately, the package we came to deliver came open in transit. It fell and spilled on the carriage floor. I'm so sorry Doktor, it was a terrible mistake. We dusted the apparatus off and re-sealed it. But I wanted to inform you, so you could check for damages and make sure everything was alright. Now, I'm not familiar with your intricate and advanced studies. I was curious what the device might do. If you'd be willing to educate a simpleton like me who finds your scholarly ways absolutely intriguing. In fact, my guest here....", pointing at Jolteon with her knife, "... loves your work. We were discussing what it might take to get....ahem... a private scientific demonstration later? For your adoring fans?", Noire asked while trying to sweet talk the Doktor.
Count Schaffenvolk turns his cold gaze on Trevor and stares hard at him. After a few moments pause, his lips curl up again into another elegant smile. "Ah, a good vintage," he says after the pause, supping at his 'wine', "Forgive me, of course you would want to, ah, 'freshen up' before partaking of a meal, however fine it is. Greta!" His voice turns harsh as he looks towards the door which the vibrant young lass disappeared to, the expression of mild distaste again alighting on his aristocratic features. After a brief moment, the door opens just enough for the girl in question to pop her head out, a questioning quirk to her eyebrow. "Please show our guests to a place where they can perform ablutions before dinner."
Greta rolls her eyes theatrically (earning another glare from the Count) before she says, "Fiiiine." The door shuts for a moment before opening fully again and Greta sashays her way back into the dining room, heading for the main double doors. She crooks her finger in a come-hither motion as she walks by Trevor and moves through the door, heading down the hallway.
The Count's penetrating gaze focuses on Noire as she speaks, the feigned friendliness draining away from his countenance as she continues. "My dear lady," he says in an icy voice, "I know every citizen of Schaffenvolksgrad. And I know every person who comes here in any official capacity. You are neither. I would bid you to stop your ridiculous pantomime of our ways. There are many who do not take kindly to such... theatrical insults."
But the words do have an effect on Doctor von Neumann. Not initially, he's too busy rubbing his prized box with glee to take much heed to them. That changes when mention that the box was opened and the contents might be damaged is made. Whirling around, the good Doctor stares at Noire with wide, blood red eyes -- again a complete anomaly in this world of black-and-white -- the madness in them surging with boiling anger. "What?!" he exclaims, "The box was opened?! How -dare- you touch such a precious piece of equipment with your untrained hands!" In a flash, he pulls out an intricate gun from his pocket, leveling it at the Drone.
"Elrich!" the Count suddenly shouts, pounding the table with an imperious fist, "Control yourself! These people are our guests! I will not see violence done to them in my very home unless warranted! Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?"
Doctor von Neumann pauses, the gun still leveled, but eventually sighs and stuffs it back into his lab coat pocket.
"Good," the Count says, mollified, "Now I suggest you check over your little scientific bauble." Doctor von Neumann nods and takes his clutched prize box as he also exits the room, muttering mad incomprehensibles to himself. He takes the opposite direction from where Greta was leading, apparently uncaring of anyone following.
Maria sighs and shakes her head, simply picking up her dress off the floor and scurrying off right behind von Neumann. She dares not speak for a very long time, until finally, hesitantly, making an offer. "Herr Doktor. If there is anything you require, just let me know and I shall fetch it for you." Settling right into the role of the mad scientist's assistant. Soon after, via direct message, she relays in secret to Noire, "Best follow Greta just in case."
Trevor smiles. "I know. But when you gotta go you gotta go." He says, looking to Greta as she walks by, giving her come hither. He gives a polite nod, eyeing something along the ceiling as he follows her out of the room. Outside the chamber, he takes note of where the Doctor goes, turning his arm quietly and making a few key taps to his holoboard, his hand holding the Vampire Killer while he makes the correct algorithmic augmentation to it's design.
Noire's icon begins to fade and stutter as she has latency issues. Completely logging out and disconnecting due to some type of issues. Hopefully she's back soon! <<Noire Automata has disconnected from the Lobby and left the game.>>
Trevor frowns. Hmmm. Curious. "Didn't stop inventory accrual. Curious." He does the tried and true method of slapping his arm but whatever he is doing doesn't stick. He frowns, letting out a huff. Oh well. Better save the big guns for when he gets there. For now, he simply follows Greta to the bathroom and thanks her. "Please give the apologies to the Count. He tries his best, I can tell, and the affairs of these past days I am sure are weighing on him. Please tell him I will not be long and thank you again for the escort." He then steps into the Ablation chamber, and looks up. He words silently to himself 'gotta reverse it somehow' as he uses the Bathroom Break to mull over options, get his head together, and let the other two fulfill their plan while he waits to get to the Receiver.
As Doctor von Neumann leads the way down the corridor, he looks over his shoulder at Maria and blinks once at her in confusion as if this was the first time he's seen her. "Ah! Yes, of course," he says, lacking his accent again, "Thank you, my dear. That will be very helpful." Eventually, the pair come to a spiral staircase and the good Doctor climbs it quickly. It seems to go on forever, but eventually a landing is reached and a single wide door is set in the wall. Von Neumann opens the door and steps inside, revealing the large laboratory, topped with a geodesic glass dome.
The place is a wonder of cheesy 1950s-era sci-fi movie props -- jacobs' ladders and huge consoles with analog dials line the far wall, while titanic power pylons are arranged about a central dais in a precise geometry. Oscilloscopes screens and vacuum tubes extend from other walls, while thick rubber power cords snake around the floor providing quite the tripping hazard. But the most obvious thing in the room sits atop the dais.
What the hell -is- that thing?! It's like a mishmash of limbs and torsos and organs. It's covered in what is clearly blood as well -- stark red against the otherwise black and white world. Several faces, melted together on the bulbous form, cry out in silent agony across the stitched flesh. It pulsates grossly, like a the heart of some great beast. But even worse than the mash of bodies, is the thing it encompasses, gestating like a pestilent egg yolk. A crawling chaos filled with a riot of colors, symbols, and static-like snow. It seems to go on forever, a portal or gash in the Digital Web drawing everything in towards a spiral of pure, distilled madness.
Meanwhile, Greta has led the way to a seemingly random door and opens it for Rufus, bowing in an exaggerated, somewhat mocking way. The interior is a tiled edifice of stone, with a large tub - - almost a pool -- at the center, warm water continuously pouring into it from stone gargoyles arranged around the corners. It looks deep enough to go to the shoulders if one were to sit in it. There are several stalls along the walls and the open wooden doors lead to surprisingly modern- looking toilets.
Greta snorts derisively, smirking a bit at Rufus' statement about the Count. "He's an arrogant blowhard who leeches off others because he has no -real- talent himself except for giving orders." The girl pauses before an impish expression falls over her features and she sidles up close to the Virtual Adept, her voice going sultry, "Are you sure you don't want me to... help you wash up." She licks her lips and grins viciously, showing her teeth.
Trevor blinks at Greta and shakes his head. "Tell you what. I noticed you looking at me, Greta. Tell you what. I will be MORE than happy to do that, IF you go and bring the lady Maria with you. I think I saw her following the Herr Doktor? And that chap, no offense, is a total snooze." He says with a wink. "Far better down here don't you think?" He has to remember - play the players, not the game.
Maria, for her part, gets in close to the Doktor, ignoring that pulsating freak show for the moment to give him a reassuring shoulder massage. "There there. I know this is important for you, but that's all the more reason to keep calm, relax a bit, and take your time with this! Here. Let me help you relax." She rubs his shoulders gently, and then his back, and sort of roams her hands around his waist some before moving back up to his shoulders. Huh. If she was trying to attempt anything besides her massage, it didn't exactly work.
Doctor von Neumann seems quite unperturbed by the Thing pulsating in the center of the room, happily taking his little box to a cluttered workbench nearby. Eyes wide with madness and with shaking hands, he uses a screwdriver to wrench off the front of the box and peers at the contents. Carefully, he removes the glass bauble and lays it down on the workbench before sliding a magnification tool on an armature over it, peering into the surface. "Mmn, yes, yes," he says, accent again returning and nodding in satisfaction, "Very good. It does not appear damaged. That fool of a policewoman is not as great an oaf as she seems." He only pauses briefly when Maria begins her impromptu massage treatment -- he -is- quite tense it seems -- but for the most part continues his preparations. "Ah, thank you, my dear," he says, sans accent and looking over his shoulder at Maria with a smile, "Everything... was for this. It's been a long road. Yes, very long. But we are finally reaching the destination. Finally..." The doctor's voice fades off into a sigh of triumph.
Taking up the amplifier, the good Doctor moves over to one of the pieces of equipment nearby and opens a panel. There, several metallic clamps lie and he begins to attach the device to each of the prong electrodes jutting out from it.
Meanwhile, Greta pauses at Trevor's suggestion, her eyes widening in surprise. "I... honestly did not expect you to respond positively," she says thoughtfully, looking at the Virtual Adept approvingly, "You're interesting. Very." After a moment, she chuckles and steps back, throwing her hands up into an expression of surrender. "All right, you win. Oh, the Count will be -quite- vexed," she seems quite happy by that and she turns to head back down the corridor, winking over her shoulder. "Don't go anywhere now, okay?" she says, "It's not nice to disappoint a lady." In a few more moments, she is gone.
Rufus sighs. "Dammit. The ONE time, hot chicks pay attention to me." He closes the door and uses the Vampire Killer to tether it closed. After which, he gets to work. ... ... ... It could work. <<Private Message to Jolteon: Are you still with the Docktor in his Frankenstenien Doom Chamber?>>
Maria, having given von Neumann a relaxing massage, steps away to let him do his thing. Except, her eyes drift over toward the whatsit being worked on... what the hell, what the hell. A cursory examination leads her to not actually conclude anything, and she's about to just let events run their course, when a faint staticky figure manifests near the body and starts tracing around the area, muttering in a faint Arabian accent. Suddenly, the staticky figure de-manifests in a puff of panic, and Maria in turn rushes over to the Doktor in her own panic! "D-d-d-d-d-doktor?! I-i think we-I think there's something /wrong/ with your project...!!" She points right at the pulsating, er, thing, very genuinely terrified even if she's hamming it up a /little/ for theatrics. That terror bleeds in to the reply she sends to Trevor. <<Private Message to Rufus: I am, now HURRY UP AND GET HERE I FOUND THE PROBLEM. QUINT EATER.>>
<<Player has reconnected: Noire Automata will be joining ThunderStone37 in the Doktor's Laboratory>>, the message broadcasts to local players as a swirling dark pixelated cube assembles out of the nether. Quickly the hub ICON spits out the Avatar of Noire. Her attire changing and reloading to no longer be a cop of the realm but picking up the requirements of the scene. Dressed in muted white, in a old fashioned nurses outfit. Noire looked like an ideal lab assistant or medical tech meant to help the Doktor with the upkeep of projects and various experiments. "Hey...", she whispers to Maria, not wanting to draw the Doktor's attention yet. Attempting to fasten a button on her blouse to hide some cleavage, and be less 'Hello, Nurse!', and more Silent Hill nurse. Her hands covered in long white gloves that reached past her elbows. "I'm cosplaying I guess...", she snickers in fright before looking at the mass of evil and pure horror crossing her face. "Let's not birth a monster here.", still whispering and assuming the Doktor was busy Bering kooky and playing with his device.
The good Doctor frowns and turns towards Maria, tilting his head in question at the semi -Mage. "What?" he asks, still in his non-accented voice, "Something is wrong? How could something be wrong? I performed all the calculations. I'm sure everything is right."
As Doctor von Neumann finishes wiring the glass device into the machine, who should arrive but Greta! She sashays her way in without a glance to the horrible Thing on the dais, sidling up to Maria. "Boo!" she purrs, grinning broadly with that same predatory glint in her eye, "Your little boyfriend with the whip wants to have a bath party." If she cares about Maria's panicked disposition, she sure hides it well.
The good Doktor then closes the panel on the machine, and moves towards a knife switch which he flips down. Dials and indicators light up and begin to whirr and he moves over to one of the consoles and begins to flip switches, seemingly at random. There is a thrum of building power.
And then Noire logs back in. Greta glances over that way and a faint moue of confusion graces her features for just a moment before she shrugs and turns her attention back to the panicking Maria. "Come along, darling, your bath awaits," she purrs out again, moving to try and grab Maria's hand and pull her towards the exit.
MEANWHILE, IN THE SEX BATH....
Rufus uses his time wisely. He can't make it up there in time, now that the doctor has his thingymajig. "Open Operator Console." Operator Console Confirmed as the tiny holoboard turns into a full-blown data screen with keyboard. He looks up as Noire returns to the server. <<Private Message to Jolteon and Noire: Noire. Your target is the apparatus above the monster. The Quint Monster is part of an elaborate pattern ritual that is channeling the power stream throughout the sector and corrupting it. You need to reverse it, or take it out. I am uploading an IP patch that should give you a boost.>> He says as he uploads a downloaded prog into the console and begins to triangulate calculations for delivery.
Maria is maybe a bit too panicked to think and speak at the same time, and only manages to point and blubber at the pulsing Quint Monster indicating it might be a problem. The message is likely to get through to Noire, but alas. Herr Doktor is too focused in his work to take notice. She tries one more time to open her mouth, but-- yoink! Greta is now dragging her away and out of earshot. As a last-ditch effort to buy some time... <<Private Message to Noire and Rufus: I was trying to say that unforeseen factors ruined the Doktor's otherwise pristine calculations. Tell him that!>>
Noire looks to the the Doktor, "Herr Doktor... I'm from the future... Unforeseen factors ruined your otherwise pristine calculations. You will be a laughing stock and complete failure if this experiment continues. You'll thank me later.", running over to the giant bolted box with numerous cables coming out of it. A whitish smoke coils around itself while hanging from a pipe, it whispers it's deathly secrets in tantalizing nuances. ((Careful, childe. Actions require consequences. It's inescapable. Choose wisely little one. You might make a mistake.)) - the guide whispers with its black forked tongue. Transmitting information to the drone, before the albino reptile disappears in white pixelated smoke.
Clapping her hands together, Eden claps the box with ungodly strength. Doing the physically impossible as bolts rip and tear from the floor boards. She switches positions and hoists the scientific apparatus above her head and looks at the Doktor. Electrical snapping and flaying widely. She takes a few steps closer to the Doktor, looking like she could bludgeon him to death with the safe like object. Ripping more cables from the room and destroying the room slightly. "Such pretty stained glass windows...", closing her eyes snd tossing the minor vault through the ceiling glass and outside the castle. Panting as glass shards shatter in chunks about them.
With Maria going all-in on trying to convince the Doctor to stop his work, Greta has no problem at all grabbing her arm. The young woman is -surprisingly- strong, far more so than even her sturdy frame would suggest. She bodily begins dragging the protesting Maria towards the door with seemingly little effort, ignoring the gibbering, desperate protests and the good Doctor's work.
The Doctor's face takes on a wild cast, his eyes going blood red again as the power continues to build. Arcs of electricity begin to pour out from the electrical pylons surrounding the Thing on the dais, raking against the pulsating flesh before swirling into the whirling chaos at the center and disappearing. All around the Sector, blocks of 2D squares appear at different orientations and angles, all displaying that same multicolored riot of static that beats at the center of the Thing. All of our intrepid Netspinners can see examples of these corrupted squares around them. They are multiplying rapidly.
And then Noire just -rips- the apparatus out from its moorings, the arcs of electricity ceasing and the sound of machinery powering down. The Doctor's eyes widen at the sight, already running towards the flying device as if to try and save a drowning child, hand outstretched and heedless of the threat Noire makes with the heavy device. But he's not even close to being close enough; the glass of the dome shatters and the cabinet -- still with sparking cables -- begins to fall off the high tower towards the craggy mountainous landscape below. Seconds pass before the muffled crash of the cabinet hitting the ground can be heard.
"What have you done?!" The Doctor screams in a mix of horror and depression -- like someone witnessing a beloved pet being run over in front of them -- as he stares at the spot where the broken glass lies, tears welling up in his blood red eyes. He slowly turns to Noire and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the gun and leveling it at her...
But before he can pull the trigger, there's the sudden feeling of being pushed on all of the trio and the three are unceremoniously deposited back in the marshaling Sector they started before their adventure.
A quick probing reveals that the Sector address for Schaffenvolksgrad/Castlevania is now inaccessible, but on the plus side the corruption spreading from it has stopped as well. This has slowed the overall progress of the crawling corruption at the core of the linkable addresses. Perhaps it might be possible at a later date to fix the Sector for good, but for now all paths into it are blocked.
Maria-- er, ThunderStone37 aka Jolteon -- finds herself unceremoniously fallen backward on her backside, and scrambling to re-equip her Icon. Before anyone manages to see her, she figures out an evening-gown ensemble, sparkly yellow strapless dress with side slits up to her thighs and strappy silver heels. Huh. Given the circumstances, this must've been picked at random from several saved loadouts. She slowly turns to shoot a glare at Noire, mouthing a 'what the fuck' at her but not elaborating. At least the sector's quarantined?
Rufus didnt think that he said 'destroy it, or reverse it'. But alas, his prog calculations shut off and he doesn't even get a smooch from Greta! The Guy in the Chair never gets the girl. So he gets data dumped into the lobby room and his eyes retriangulate, only showing the corruption but how it has halted. "Dammit." He grumbles. "Now I have to find a way to raw jump in there? SHIT." He grits his teeth. Oh well. He leans forward and puts his hands on his legs. "Well....that could have gone better." He stands back up.
"Damnit, you little devil...", Noire states while cursing her guide and booting back up with Rufus and TS37 at the lobby. "Oops, I kinda destroyed the apparatus which booted us out of the sector. Good news is... it's like quarantine. Nobody should be getting in or out. However, that doesn't mean that corruption is solved. It's still in there as a massive problem. Maybe we see about gearing up, getting a backdoor in and truly fixing it later. This is just like a hot patch for now.", kinda giving a famous libra shrug, the balancer of scales. Good and Evil must be weighed. They were stuck in the middle as she switched to a female ICON again.
"Ugh...." Jolteon picks herself up and steadies herself on her poorly-chosen outfit. Hey, at least they're not doing anything important? "...ah, so you weren't actually trying to... that's good. Hey, Noire? We really need to meet up in a less, er, dangerous area. Talk shop or whatever." Looking down at the outfit she'd equipped, she adds on, "I /guess/ I could wear this again? Rufus, what do you think?"
Rufus groans as the holopad appears on his forearm and he shuts off the running progs, the data displacer and the quantum fluxing parameters. The conversation shifted from him, Jolteon and Noire talking amongst themselves and then when Rufus gets prodded, he looks over at Jolteon and her outfit. "I mean...it'd work. Problem though is the Sector is in a closed state. Who the heck knows what is going on in there now. The entire sector was running on the corruption matrix. So Frankenfurter and their goons were specifically tasked to spread it via the whole..ITS ALIVE thing. It could very well change it's state to something else." He then realizes he didn't ACTUALLY answer the question. So he nods. "Yeah. Looks good on you."
Noire gives TS37 her tradable ICON which has some online user information to contact her. "Yeah, no worries. E-Sheep and the Demise are popular spots. We can meet up there.", nodding and slipping a digital cigarette into her mouth. "So did anyone get to make out with Greta? 500 credits to whoever kisses her first next session.", teasing and blowing away smoke. No one saw how she destroyed the apparatus. Her secret might be safe. If anything, Noire had cheating scripts. Her file said so. Nodding to Rufus, "Just have to figure out how to get back in. That should be fun."
ThunderStone37 sends Noire about five different links to irrelevant websites (including an ad for a... Flaying Kaine concert?) before figuring out how to send her contact information. "Gehhh... ignore those other links. Just spam anyway. Sooo wait. The Demise? What's that?" She tilts her head at Noire, slightly confused. Then, her eyes drift downward at her outfit again... and, after at least offering Rufus one last good look at it, cycles through to some casual wear. Eevee graphic tee, skinny jeans, and sneakers. "This is /so/ not a night to be fancy."
Rufus looks over at Jolteon as she returns to normalcy. "Well. Sounds like you kiddies are off to have some fun. Don't let me keep you." He says to the two of them. "I'm going to remain here and do some sleuthing. You guys take it easy." He waves, ZAP and off he goes into the Web.
"Hey, Jolteon. I'm gonna get QWERTY Face, if I stay logged in much longer. I'm glad everything worked out, for now. I don't think your a newb.", Noire said respectfully while holding back a yawn. "Spies Demise, do a search for it later. Fun place.", winking softly as she still wore that Halloween nurses outfit meant for trick or treating. The adult kind. "Yeah... I need to change and go to bed.", Noire offered and began to log off.
