[SP-28] The Red Thread Menace (Scouting)

[Freyd 0]

A dark mass loomed in the distance, nestled in a valley between two rising slopes of wavering crimson adorned with heavy lacings in white.  Though it was tough to tell, so heavily was it encased by the gossamer strands, Freyd thought he saw a series of tower-like elements poking up to match the tallest of the surrounding trees. All of it looked as though it was swaddled beneath a sheer, fabric-blanket of gauze.  Realization dawned, along with cursing for having taken him so long to connect the similar contexts.  These strands weren't like vines at all.  They were like webs, very similar to the ones he'd seen during his many forays through the Chittering Halls of Floor 21.  Yet this forest was almost completely silent by comparison.

There had been no evidence of arachnids in Glyndebourne, or at the burnt out farmstead.  No.  He was still missing something.  Still pondering, he found the road before him stop abruptly after a shard turn.  Ornate, wrought iron gates swung loosely upon heavy hinges, marking the boundaries a large estate home, the manor house barely visible beyond.  More discarded 'clothing' lay crumpled on the cobblestones just behind the gate.

"The horse?!"  Grimacing in disgust at the sight, Freyd moved the shed skin around with his boot, but could find no evidence of the rider having done the same.  "Maybe he got eaten by his ride?"  Comical, though equally disturbing.

Edited March 16 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

The manor house itself was wreathed in filaments from top to bottom, serving as some sort of nexus or root for the splaying crimson strands splaying outward from it in every direction.  They were densest near the building itself, producing a reddish halo that seemed to pulse from the structure in time with the motions of the wind.  

"Yeah," Freyd muttered, "that's not ominous in the slightest.  Hey, Persi, how much you want to bet this is the Lord Magistrate's pad?"  Slinking down from beneath his armor, his normally aloof shadow mongoose familiar was on edge, her blazing azure eyes narrowed to the slimmest of suspicious slivers as she sniffed around.  "Agreed.  Let's not be alone in here."  Willing his own shadow to split into multiple fragments to better distract any would-be attackers, the Whisper was further dismayed when nothing happened, and then the penny dropped.

"Awww, crap, Persi.  I think I know where we are."

Edited March 16 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

Allowing his lumberjack disguise to fade, Freyd didn't expect it to do him much good if his guess was correct.  The centre of a broadly spun web that could override the rules of their digital reality?  That was raid level shit, or, more precisely, the sort of nonsense you would typically only find in labyrinths.  Approaching the main entrance seemed ridiculously stupid, and possibly suicidal.  Freyd elected, instead, to wander around to the side of the structure, seeking another door, cellar, or unsecured window.  Option number two seemed like today's winner.  A pair of slanted shutters jut out from the side of the foundation marked his preferred point of entry.  Notably, a badly rusted chain and heavy padlock lay loosely in the grass a few feet away.  No one had likely used them in quite some time.

Nudging Persi towards the doors, her mono-dimensional figure slipped between the leafs to scout the interior.  A moment later, her head appeared, blinking the 'all-clear' in blazing blue.  Opening the doors are quietly as possible, Freyd slowly crept inside.

***

Scouting | 218902 | LD 10+16=26 | Treasure chest
Total: 109/300

Edited March 16 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

And that's when the house bit him - or tried, rather.  He'd barely stepped halfway down the stairs when the mortar lines between rubblestone blocks forming the basement suddenly shone red, making the entire space feel like the inside of a very hostile enemy submarine, or maybe a Resident Evil movie.  Moving on instinct alone, Freyd tumbled forward just in time to avoid a tangle of razor-sharp red strands slicing at him from every direction.

"Definitely Resident Evil," he cried out, vaguely remembering something about a red queen and lasers in corridors chopping protagonists into tiny bitses.  Not a moment he was eager to personally experience.  Persi simply slipped through the remaining voids, dancing through the peril like she so often did.  Freyd swore that it was purposefully done just to show him up.

"The entire house has turned?!  This thing can even infect the environment?"  The Whisper realized that he was in the gullet of a death trap within a death game, and it was very earnestly trying to swallow him.

***

Open treasure chest | 218903 | CD 3 | Chest is a mimic and attacks.

Spoiler

ID #218904 | MD: 3+3-5=1 (miss)

Freyd | HP: 1311/1311 | EN: 132/152 (132+4-18) | DMG: 24 | MIT: 80 | EVA: 5 | ACC: 5 | BH: 72 | LD: 13 (16) | PROSP: 3 | FLN: 16 | HLY: 16 | TXV: 32 | TRLBLD | PARA IMMUNE | REC: 8 | V.D.: 144

Mimic 1 | HP: 2000/2000 | DMG: 360 | MIT: 160 | ACC: 3 | EVA: 3

 

Edited March 16 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

"Nope.  Nope!  NOPE!"  Try has he might, there were far too many strands flying about to effectively inflict any kind of counterattack.  Dodging like the ballbearing in a pinball machine, he instantly felt himself sympathizing with its plight.  Both were battered and thrown about violently for the amusement of others, with the only apparent end being an inevitable swallow by the void at the end of their torture chamber.  Freyd hadn't quite spotted that particular menace, yet, being too busy dancing around like a madman, trying to keep himself from being flayed alive.  Every edge and line defining a surface in the space - literally every corner - was against him and actively peeling itself from its part to join the growing, scrambled ball of crimson death yarn chasing him around a basement that was sorely in need of housekeeping.  He needed to find a solution, and quickly, or there would soon be flayed Freyd tartar sprayed over every inch of this place.

***

Spoiler

Post Action | AoE-I (x15, 11 EN, +2 shift, +2/hit): 15 EN - (Rested 2/2; Stamina) = 12 EN.  (missed.  -2 EN)
Free Action | Grappling familiar (CD 0/5)

ID #218905 | BD:1 (miss).  (CD 5 | ST-B locked)

ID #218906 | MD: 9 (Crit +1).  DMG (361-80=281) to Freyd

Freyd | HP: 1030/1311 (1311-281) | EN: 150/152 (152-2) | DMG: 24 | MIT: 80 | EVA: 5 | ACC: 5 | BH: 72 | LD: 13 (16) | PROSP: 3 | FLN: 16 | HLY: 16 | TXV: 32 | TRLBLD | PARA IMMUNE | REC: 8 | V.D.: 144

Mimic 1 | HP: 2000/2000 | DMG: 360 | MIT: 160 | ACC: 3 | EVA: 3

 

Edited March 16 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

"Not happening!"  Ironclad refusal took the form of tumbling turned demolition derby as Freyd changed tactics and replaced dodging around attacks into crazy through the cellar itself.  Ear-splitting cries resonated throughout the confined space as the maws bound around his fist peeled back their seals, unleashing the power of oblivion.  Dust and splinters sprayed like shrapnel all about the space as chaos and destruction reigned, obscuring everything.  The floors above creaked ominously as support columns and beams we sundered and snapped like twigs, whole sections vanishing with the passage of his touch.  Freyd had finally let loose.

From outside, it must have seemed as if someone were setting off demolition charges, or an indoor artillery barrage.  The manor house heaved and jumped, belching out puffs of dust and detritus as windows shattered, raining glass down upon the surrounding yard.  Various sections crunched and collapsed under their own weight.  So much for the subtle approach, but it beat getting sliced into ribbons.

***

Spoiler

Freyd regains +4 EN
Freyd regains 62 HP from BH
CD 3 (No REC proc) ID #218907
CD 9 (+144 VD proc) ID #218908
Cooldowns: Grappling (1/5)

Post Action | AoE-II (x18, 14 EN, +2 shift, +2/hit): 18 EN - (Rested 1/2; Stamina) = 15 EN.  Charge (CD 0/3, +8 EN)
Free Action | None

ID #218909 | BD: 8 (Crit +1, Fallen +16, Charge +3, Trlbld).  DMG (18*44=792*2=1584-160=1424) to Mimic 1.  TXV applied.  (CD 9 | ST-B unlocked)

ID #218910 | MD: 3+3-5=1 (miss)

Freyd | HP: 1236/1311 (1030+62+144) | EN: 128/152 (150+4-18-8) | DMG: 24 | MIT: 80 | EVA: 5 | ACC: 5 | BH: 72 | LD: 13 (16) | PROSP: 3 | FLN: 16 | HLY: 16 | TXV: 32 | TRLBLD | PARA IMMUNE | REC: 8 | V.D.: 144

Mimic 1 | HP: 544/2000 | DMG: 360 | MIT: 160 | ACC: 3 | EVA: 3 | TXV 32 (1/3) (2000-1424-32)

 

Edited March 17 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

"Stop.  Trying.  TO EAT ME!"

Floor joists and heavy timbers collapsing all around him, Freyd had somehow managed to work his way up to the ground floor.  Or, maybe the ground floor had fallen into the basement.  Both were equal possibilities, given the extent of raw damage done to the structure.  He and his trademark cowl were now so utterly laden and caked with debris that they looked like an ashen blizzard had dumped its entire load upon them in a blink.  The outer wall still stood, but most of the interior walls were gone. It looked like a frat party turned completely and totally wrong in the worst possible way.  Only a few sections of the upper floor had mysteriously survived, supported by the same reddish filaments that seemed to be at the heart of whatever had embroiled him and Morningstar in the first place - and who knows how many others.

Most of the gossamer strands were concentrated in the far corner of the remaining upper floor.  If he was going to find any answers, that would be the place.  He just needed to find a way up.

***

Spoiler

Freyd regains +4 EN
Freyd regains 62 HP from BH
CD 11 (+8 REC proc) ID #218911
CD 11 (+144 VD proc) ID #218912
Cooldowns: Grappling (2/5), Charge (1/3)

Post Action | ST-B (x20, 20 EN): 20 EN - (Stamina) = 18 EN.  
Free Action | None

ID #218913 | BD: 8 (Crit +1, Fallen +16).  DMG (20*41=820-160=660) to Mimic 1.  Dead.

Freyd | HP: 1311/1311 (1236+62+144) | EN: 122/152 (128+4+8-18) | DMG: 24 | MIT: 80 | EVA: 5 | ACC: 5 | BH: 72 | LD: 13 (16) | PROSP: 3 | FLN: 16 | HLY: 16 | TXV: 32 | TRLBLD | PARA IMMUNE | REC: 8 | V.D.: 144

Mimic 1 | HP: 0/2000 | DMG: 360 | MIT: 160 | ACC: 3 | EVA: 3 | TXV 32 (2/3) (544-660-32)

Loot Mimic 1: ID #218914 | LD: 12+14=26 | CD: 1
+2 materials (+2 CD odd)
16000 col (HP[2000]*8 - incl. +2 LD even, +3 Prosperity)
T4 Perfect Consumable 218914a
T4 Perfect Consumable 218914b
T4 Perfect Armor/Shield 218914c
T4 Perfect Armor/Shield 218914d

Scouting can resume.

Edited March 17 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

Freyd usually had a good sense of humour about lethal situations, laughing off imminent dangers and threats of death on the principle that getting overly agitated wasn't especially helpful under such circumstances.  It had served him well before, but something about this particular situation was undermining his casual disregard.  Maybe he was still worried about Morningstar, or anyone else who randomly wandered through the Glyndebourne gate?  Maybe it was Sally, and all of the other potential NPCs who could be exposed to the same fate?

"Persi, keep watch."  A flick of his wrist suggested direction and location.  The tiny mongoose strayed to the room's darkest corners, completely invisible save for her pair of brilliant azure eyes with her telltale slotted irises.  She was on edge too, which only added to Freyd's personal unease.  

Leaping, flipping and vaulting across bits of debris, Freyd put his lesser known talents to use navigating the debris field that had once been a house interior.  Curiously, the collapsed floors held very little content.  It was as if the place had been stripped bare, leaving only bulky furniture and miscellaneous sundries behind.

***

EN regen 1/2
Cooldowns: Grappling (3/5), Charge (2/3)

Edited March 23 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

Careful not to disturb the web-like threads, Freyd fully expected some sort of phase spider to leap through the remaining walls and try to bite his face off.  With most of the dust settled again, only the whistling of the wind against the interior offered any sound.  This place felt like a tomb, or like it might be ready to become one.  Stepping through shadows to bridge the final gap, the Whisper had reached the small section of floor that remained outside the door leading to the only surviving part of the upper floor.  The door itself was free of filaments, but every inch of the surrounding walls and ceiling we lousy with them, the vast majority pulsing with that deep vermillion he had come to recognize and dread.

Pressing his index finger to his lips, he signaled Persi to be ready and reached for the tarnished brass knob that would reveal their fates.  Swinging open easily, on well-oiled hinges, the portal revealed a lavish study replete with trophies, mementos and other commemorative trinkets celebrating a long and lavishly decorated career.  An opulent, stained oak desk dominated the centre of the chamber, clearly set as the focal point of the room and facing a half-circle of six smaller and notably mundane chairs. 

"This was where people came to get schooled, or otherwise bullied about by whatever master claimed title over the space."

***

EN regen 2/2
Cooldowns: Grappling (4/5), Charge (3/3)

Edited March 23 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

Scanning the contents of the room revealed no obvious or imminent threat.

"That would be too easy, right?"  Obvious enemies were easy to deal with.  The sneaky, insidious types were far more bothersome.  He knew it all too well.  Freyd counted himself among the latter, as did a good many others who'd crossed him, Firm Anima or their allies.  Few people even realized that the renown crafting guild had a clandestine division, which was the whole point.  They wouldn't be worth their name if everyone knew about them.  Straying thoughts also reminded him of the tiny black book that had been burning a hole in the back of his soul for some time now.  Freyd's features unconsciously retreated into his cowl just by thinking about it.  Aincrad could not afford to remain without its Faceless Lord forever.

This room might have prompted those thoughts, appertained as it was to such potential.  Mastermind vibes abounded, as did a sense of symbolically reinforced hierarchy.  Every detail in the chamber had been crafted to assert a subtle dominance over all other occupants.

***

Scouting | 218915 | LD 20+16=36 | Nothing happens
Total: 145/300

Cooldowns: Grappling (5/5)

Edited March 24 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

Several things stood out, immediately, to the keen-eyed Whisper's survey.  The room was completely devoid of strands and filaments. Despite their overwhelming concentration outside of its very walls, this place was bare.  Their absence was jarring, compared to the exterior.  There should also have been carpets and tapestries in here, quite obviously by the patterned discolorations on certain parts of the floor and walls.  Things had been spread and hung within that were obviously absent.  Everything remaining in the room was made of something other than fabric, except the cushioned seat and back of the ornate chair behind the desk. Looking like it should have once been lush and vibrant, the plush texture had been bleached to near-translucent white.

Walking carefully around the desk, feet touching the floor boards as gingerly as possible, Freyd was wary of potential traps.  He even stooped to check that the chair itself wasn't on some sort of pressure plate or tilting trigger before sliding it back for closer inspection.  Nothing.  Only fuzzy colourless fabric remained as he ran his leather glove over its surface.

"No dust?"

Looking around the room once more confirmed it.  Not a single speck on any surface.  Either someone Pledged excessively, or something very hinky was going on.

Edited March 24 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

Having pulled back the chair, Fred noticed a tarnished silver ash bin tucked in deep beneath the desk, where the room's master could conceal evidence of a potential vice, if they felt it necessary.  Pulling it out, the canister seemed neglected compared to the rest of the room's immaculate level of care.

"How did none of the dust and debris from the rest of the manor's collapse get in here?"

The house groaned and protested at his words, as if speaking them aloud had reminded it that it was mortally wounded and should already have fallen apart.  Pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, Freyd scolded himself internally for giving Cardinal ideas.  The bloody murder machine did well enough on its own without him adding suggestions.  Lifting open the tin's lid, he'd expected to find ashes from a set of cigars, not mostly scorched scraps of paper.  Pulling them out, Freyd spilled the bin's contents all over the desktop and reconstructed the writings as quickly as he could manage.

Edited March 24 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

...kept safe... behind Delilah's heart... regret my... Magis... Aldenbrook.

The note looked to have been torn into pieces before it was set alight.  Whoever tossed it in the bin wasn't thinking.  Air-tight, the canister would have suffocated the flames and prevented the arson its completion.

"Alright," Freyd whispered, wondering what it could possibly mean.  The cursive script itself was firm, bold and eloquent, signaling a refined education and practiced hand.  "Sounds like traits you'd associate with someone expecting to be sitting in this chair."  Pushing the chair aside, he kneeled and looked out across the room, trying to imagine himself in the place of the person penning the mysterious missive.  Freyd's eyes quickly fell upon the painting on the wall to his left, depicting a young girl in a pretty yellow dress with petticoat, a parasol draped over her shoulder.

"A daughter?"  He looked at the note again.  "Hello, Delilah."

***

Scouting | 218920 | LD 13+16=29 | Treasure chest found
Total: 174/300

Edited March 24 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

Feeling around the edges of the painting's ornate frame, Freyd studied the features of its subject for clues about her parent's features. 

"Nothing prevents this Lord Magistrate from being a woman," he reminded himself, thinking that the sort of twist that Cardinal might introduce, just to play against prejudice.  Find the clips holding the painting in place, he released them, then unhooked and removed the painting.  No one was around to notice the unusual care or gentle manner of his handling, which seemed uncharacteristic.  Few knew of Freyd's soft spot for children, though Cardinal did and had used it against him in the past.  Despite his relentless detachment, this was one 'weakness' he just couldn't shake, or maybe didn't want to.

A simple concealed compartment was revealed, recessed into the paster surface of the wall.  No safe or other elaborate mechanisms needed to be hacked.

"It would have ruined the painting," he realized, imagining a dial and handle project from the surface of a metal door.  Delilah was indeed precious.  Collecting the contents, most automatically transferred to his inventory, the rest were brought back to the desk for examination.

***

Open treasure chest | 218921 | CD 7 | LD 4+13=17

7,000 col
12 materials
T4 Perfect Weapon 218921a
T4 Perfect Armor/Shield 218921b
T4 Perfect Consumable 218921c
T4 Perfect Consumable 218921d

Edited March 24 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

Most of the contents were reports of various kinds from around the rest of Floor 28, referencing seditious activities, belligerent defiance of his Majesty's soldiers, and a seemingly coordinate effort to deny the royal tax collector his due.  Additional guards had been assigned, but local resentment was brewing, and had apparently been for some time.  Most of it was mundane and fit within the floor's historical theme.  A few of the latter reports were notably stranger.  A shipment of new goods from afar had recently arrived in Glyndebourne, causing quite the stir among locals and loyalists alike.  The details were vague, but mentioned vibrant new fashions that complimented existing palettes.  Freyd cast a sideway glance at the colour-drained chair, realizing at the same moment how long shadows had grown throughout the room.  There were no other lights in here.  Folding the papers and tucking them into his jacket, it seemed prudent to leave this place before night fell, except that the building suddenly did, instead.

Edited March 24 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

There was no warning.  No ominous creaking, splintering of heavy timber or dramatic, slow-motion leaning.  It just... fell over, with him inside.  Springing to action was essentially pointless.  There was nothing firmly fastened in the room and the decorative wall panels were too shallow in profile to offer any hope for a handhold.  Freyd found himself sliding once more into darkness as the surrounding room crashed into the basement, along with most of the remaining outer manor walls.

Horrid keening screeched split his ears as Freyd stepped through shadows to reappear in the darkness of the treeline at the edges of the manor grounds.  It was either that, or get buried beneath another pile of pointy rubble.  'I might even have gotten a splinter,' he thought, jokingly.  Everything about this place still felt off.  Looking back at the ruined building, he realized whence the screams had come: the strands.  Most of them had been severed during the impromptu demolition, now flailing like drifting pennants in the wind. 

Edited March 24 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

The day's final rays peered through the gossamer, ushered along by another rising cloud of dust and the thunder of a storm growing decidedly less distant.  Only once the last of the light had gone did he realize that the remaining filaments carried a soft reddish glow that seemed to pulse along them.  It would have been invisible in daylight, but now he realized how far these things extended.

"Fuck.  They're everywhere."

The wolves agreed, howling with promise and delight in the distance.  Freyd just wanted to facepalm.  This really wasn't turning out to be a great day.

"Y'know," he called out aloud the floor in its entirety, "you could have just kept your issues to yourself.  I would have been perfectly content with a cup of cider and a cosy campfire dedicated to the roasting of something tasty."

Whipping winds stirred to protest against his desires, screeching through the strands to sound like the worst of novice violin players.  Freyd nearly broke a tooth clenching his jaw at the awfulness of the sound.

***

Scouting | 218922 | LD 20+16=36 | Nothing happens
Total: 210/300

Edited March 24 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

"Not a place to linger," Freyd instantly decided. Dashing into the woods instead, his general lack of familiarity with the floor left him with no destination in mind.  Glyndebourne was still too hot, and he'd not yet heard from Foyle or the others.  Haunting woods filled with creepy fibrous badness in the dead of night really also didn't seem like the best place or time to check his messages.  

I need to find shelter, then hopefully contact the others.  They may have found out more while I've wandered aimlessly into the wilderness.  At least the notes he'd found in the Lord Magistrate's presumed home might offer some additional insights, once he had more context and time for study.  High ground.  A vantage with multiple points of escape.  Should I just portal out of here?

The though had harried him since parting ways with Morningstar, but he couldn't quite bring himself to shatter the requisite crystal.  Something ominous was happening here, and the longer it was permitted to persist, the more NPCs might share Sally's fate, let alone the dreadful possibility that it could spread to players.

Edited March 25 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

Racing recklessly through the underbrush, Freyd couldn't even tell what he was meant to be running from.  No enemy had shown itself.  Other than the ruddy gossamer netting strewn overhead and all around, and a few stray wolf calls, he hadn't actually seen a single soul.  The house that tried to eat him was an obvious exclusion, that being more a facet of weird vector-based environmental hazards, at least in his tech-addled mind.

Slowing his pace, and his breathing, it felt weird to feel his pulse crashing against his temples like a hurricane.

What the hell?  This isn't like me.

Checking himself all over, he wondered whether he might have been drugged or poisoned by some secret toxin, even going so far as to down an antidote on the off chance it was something never encountered before.

Stillness also sharpened his senses, confirming that he was not alone after all.  Something, or someone, was prowling nearby, though it stopped shortly after realizing that he had. 

I'm being hunted.

Edited March 25 by Freyd

[Freyd 0]

It was small, fast and light on its feet, crawling about in the treetops and clever at hiding itself.  The strands provided a passing degree of ambient light.  Freyd's darkvision managed the rest, giving him a clearer view than his pursuer might realize. Moving as quietly as he could to put a few of the more substantial tree trunks between himself and their suspected locations, he sought to lose them by manipulating shadows to create duplicates of himself.  Nothing happened.  A second confirmation that something was off, but he'd taken the chance and risked tipping his hand.

Snarling from above!  A twist and a tumble met with searing pain in his right leg, below the knee.  Sheer intensity signaled a significant wound.  Freyd had taken enough pummelings to recognize the signs when pain suppression's thresholds were exceeded.  Barely able to make out his assailant, it scurried away before he could react.  Given the circumstances, it seemed a prudent action for himself as well.

***

Scouting | 218923 | LD 6+16=22 | Stealth challenge
Total: 232/300

Stealth roll | ID 218924 | LD 7+2=9 (Fail).  HP reduced by 328 to 983/1311

Edited March 25 by Freyd