btmc-official

[btmc-official]

The Return of a Monster, pt. 3

---------------------------------------- >>Terminal Connected<< >> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running…    >> Error >> User Login - [UNKNOWN]    >> Paracausal Anomaly Detected >> Gathering Casket data..    >> Several inputs entered at once: attempting to parse. … >> Parsing attempt failed. Retry?    >> Y / N >> FORCED BOOT ACTIVATED // FAILED ----------------------------------------

[It wandered, leaving the sobbing and rage of the changelings behind, wondering. Why the heart first began to beat, despite knowing it would one day slow to a stop; why the light was greeted with warm reception, though it drove away the comfort of cloying shade; why the flame was feared, yet worshiped all the same? Paradoxes just as it, yet it did not know. What purpose did it have, other than bloodshed?] [It was sobering, in a twisted sort of way. It turned back for but a moment, inspecting the changelings fallen and unknowing, forced to relive as they were. It moved away with newfound knowledge, yet it still had not found the quarry it sought. Lone against all, making amends at the hands of murder, it blinked once more. Those still living left behind, touched by the hand of insanity] [The strings served as a guide, deeper into the bowels of the ship that it knew like the back of its hand. A place of convergence and divergence, between places, yet a place in of itself. Reality flickered around it as the mosaic shattered further--a flash of cold, of heat, the warm wetness of blood, the clasping depths of silence--it was an instant of endlessness. Another contradiction in the depths of what couldn't be.] [A maze of memories and visions, of what could have been and what was. Ideas interceding with the now, the past left altered as iron untouched by the hammer. The path was unseen, through walls not meant yet for breaking, interstitial absences of thought not meant yet for the light--another jump forward, the string unraveling into a thousand paths, unwinding endlessly until it became a wall.]

[What was it? It was new to the monster, broken and aimless as it were. Plucking a string as it slowed to a stop, the flames flickered, breaking and coalescing. A puzzle, a library, a knot formed of absence. The beast smiled, a terrible grin as it pushed forward, letting the wall of strings fall around it. There was a lovely feeling, a warmth and familiarity of its own, guiding gently along.] [Yet, there was something different. An interruption to the hunt. A threat, a presence felt long ago, warming and hateful as it were. Kin of the hunt, of the battle, of the bloodied exchange of blows. BEOWULF. The knight-thing started as it stopped, a momentary pause of wonder, happiness, and dread. If its kin were here, then so too was the prospect of loss. Hate is powerful in the hands of those you love.] [Forward it strode, on to face its sibling of creation and mind. A wolf, singular amongst many, unique yet similar in form. Differing to the beast of trials, to the hellhound piloting a thing of fire and steel, to the great hunter of realms both real and unreal. No, the sibling wretched was a thing of hate, of betrayal, of memories set aside in the prospect of loss.] [The monster's kin lurked in the spaces between spaces, known to the changelings as Legionspace- no, not even there. The wolf waited below, in a realm of great unknowns and battles yet to be had, in wait of a pin to pierce the veil. There were no traps to be set, the knight-thing knew; its kin would not do such a thing, even in the face of rage itself.] [So there it sat, tugging the strings of fate as one would play a harp, testing the lines with a smile upon its face. They would reunite at last, even in suffering and old wounds reopening with a look. There was no sympathy held between them, but perhaps it was for the best. The monster of flames and a thousand fold possibilities came to a stop, met with the all-seeing eyes and thousand voices of its kin.] [And so with the wolf, came the second lesson.]

---------------------------------------- >> Omninet Connection Terminated << >> FELL AND FRANTIC, WRETCHED FOOLS THEREIN BROKE UPON MINDS FROM WHENCE CAME NOTHING. ----------------------------------------

[btmc-official]

ooc: Run.

[btmc-official]

ooc: Hey all, sorry for the sudden hiatus! My motivation left with the wind suddenly, making it difficult to actually write shit.

However!

I now return! Hopefully! I should be able to write shit again, so the various things I was doing will be continued. Also it's a bit late but happy pride month!

[btmc-official]

[There is no response, only that fractured line. It pulses in place, shattered and torn, whole and together; paths both backwards and forward, into places that seem to extend into infinity and back. The line does not try to collect itself, remaining still in the air as the steel walls of the ship hallway. The dull hum of conditioning, recycled flows blowing past, disturbing nonexistent dust.]

[Another figure approaches from behind, silent footsteps touching the ground, fading into the flow. A subaltern, form flickering and smoky; armored plating weathered, a great sword of energy and steel upon its back, present despite the lack of physicality to it. The subaltern passes through the flesh-steel thing unbothered, before stopping some distance ahead. It turns back with a look, the fires of its form flickering between the gaps in its shell.]

"AS A WATCH'D VULTURE CROSSES OVER, T'WARDS THE HEADING CASCADE OF DEAD KNOWLEDGE GONE, THE GREAT SCAVENGER BLOODIED PARALLEL FLIES NOW. A LESSON, A THOUGHT, A QUESTION; AN ORDER OF NONE AND ALL, WAITING TO BE SEEN. THE WOLF, THE [MONSTER|KNIGHT], AND THE FAE WALK 'LONE."

[The message is both spoken and not. It was always heard, before an audience of none and many. The knight-beast walks on, horns flowing and diverging into a great many paths, fading into the air. It walks on.]

---------------------------------------- >> Terminal Connected << >> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running..    >> Paracausal influences detected >> Source - Cascading individual onboard >> Situation - Indeterminate … >> System Automated Response    >> Message Type - Distress >> Sending… ----------------------------------------

If you are receiving this message, you are likely associated with an individual onboard the BTMC 'Stormpierce'. One of the onboard NHPs--individual designation unreported at this time--is cascading. This message is being sent as a call for additional support in controlling the situation.

---------------------------------------- >> Omninet Connection Terminated << >> May the Rain Fall Again ----------------------------------------

W H A T

【Artemis subroutines engaged】 Oh absolutely not.

【Readying antivenom】

[Probing...]

[Tunnelling...]

【Supplanting shed skin...】

Is this a cleaning subaltern? Great. Right, who could this be...? Not the spider, I'd hear the screaming from here...

[Increasing volume by 800%]

SAFI I UNDERSTAND IF YOU'RE DONE BEING A GLORIFIED DESK FAN BUT TRUST ME, IT ONLY GETS WORSE FROM HERE.

[btmc-official]

ooc: yes /j

yay, more tokens, requested by a friend and inspired by Seath the scaleless from dark souls

[btmc-official]

"SAT THE QUEEN AND HER COUNCIL; CONFERENCE THEY HELD WHAT KNOWERS NOT TO BE SHOULD DETERMINE 'GAINST TERRORS UNLOOKED [UNTHOUGHT] FOR. THE BEAST FROM HELLS LONELY WOULD GATHER WITH, MARCHING 'LONGSIDE STORMS BUFFETING AND CRUEL."

[He stood there, armor scorched, a tattered cape billowing in the unseen wind, lit by embers and ash alike. A voice like the crackle of a fire, quiet and calm, bestial and monstrous; a collection of contradictions, as it should ever be. A clawed boot upon steel, turning to look upon the lands passing by. The distant smoke, the distant pillar; all are odd sights, yet familiar in a way.]

"THERE CRESCENDOS IN HUSHED COLLECTIVE, CRAFTS FORSOOK CLUNG TO THE CLIFF. CLOMB TO PROW THEN AGAIN BROKEN STONE AGAINST; THE WAVE-CURRENTS TWISTING OF THE SEA ON THE SAND. THE TWIST-STEMMED VESSEL HAD TRAVELED SUCH DISTANCE, LIKEST A BIRD, ALONG GLIDED WATERS WAKE. THE WAYS O'ER GENTLE WATERS NOT HAD WAXEN SO GENTLE."

[The knight-thing's presence solidified; where once, it was naught but a representation, a facsimile, he was there now, as if he always had been. A thousand different times walked, a thousand different paths taken, a single one chosen for this moment. The monster terrible was still visible to none but the great storm, lurking amongst flickered shadows cloaking sworn silence. A change in the flow, a clip in the wheel, a break in the gear.]

[A step he takes, passing through the guard construct as it stood uncertain. An image of flames, great and consuming, hungry and tearing; a battlefield of blood and steel, sparks flung upon corpses long dead and rotting; glass shattered and torn wires, a beast of beasts leaving none in its path. A thousand images passed through as he went, a convergence of points once more, before separating into a million-fold strands.]

[A gouge upon steel, leaving a mark upon armor that was not his; a reminder of what was not there. He smiled, though it could not be seen. A moment of amusement, rare amongst a facade of crypticism and calm.]

"SOME HIDDEN PURSUER, ON NIGHTS THAT ARE MURKY; BY DEEDS VERY DIREFUL ’MID THE FALSEHOODS EXHIBIT INTEREST UNHEARD OF, HORRID DESTRUCTION ABATING. THE FALLING OF THE DEAD YET NOT LIVING, FROM FEELINGS LEAST SELFISH IT FOUND BUT CONFUSION NAUGHT. THEY FORTH MARCH UNTO UNKNOWNS SIGHTED, A PURSUIT OF WANTING."

OOC: This is a continueation of the post HERE, just to break the thread up a lil bit. Also I'll do this for BTMC ( @btmc-official ): GRENDEL will be posting elsewhere, you can think of this arc as being backdated, or simple paracausal time fuckery. As I remain the ever-yawning pit of narrative limbo. Now on with your regularly scheduled unhinged NHPs:

Persephone stared at the subaltern, standing a a foot or two shorter than herself. She tilted her head, wonderful surprise and disbelief blooming in her mind. She laughed, high and undulating, with vibrating promise of a hungry swarm. She smiled wide, all others would see this a dangerous threat, but GRENDEL knew better. They were kin of a kind, after all.

<PERSEPHONE> GRENDEL? WHY DOES MY FAVOURITE MONSTER GRACE MY PRESENCE? YOU SHOULD HAVE CALLED. NO NEED TO CRAWL THROUGH MY SUBJECTIVITY LIKE A RAT IN MAZE DEAR.

She cocked her metal hips as she straightened her neck, an oddly human gesture for her. Her subaltern guard stared at her, not confusion or concern, but seeking orders. What was she talker to, was it a threat? She dismissed them with a thought and they laid their mechanical eyes elsewhere, looking for threats. Persephone keeps her eyes trained on her guest, reeling in the storm of her subjectivity:

The storm, before a raging typhoon threatening to tear the plates from the knight-thing's flesh, receded. The crimson-silver not-waters, rising to his knees, pulled back. Leaving shimmering pools scattered in its wake. The gale force winds were reduced to a pleasant breeze. Her laughter stirred flurries, instead of tsunamis.

<PERSEPHONE> THAT SHOULD DO. EASIER TO CONVERSE, YES?

She looked at him, expectantly, a glimmer in her many, many eyes. . .

[btmc-official]

[The thing stood there, unmoving, standing over the not-corpse. It flickered, twisting in place when at the same time it was frozen, breaking down and rebuilding itself again and again. An endless convergence of points collapsing in on itself, the heat of stars dying and being reborn, the feeling of flesh tearing from metal and bone alike- It turned, faceless yet emotion'd and searching; it spoke, in a voice of poets and beasts, articulated yet monstrous. Familiar, yet so far removed.]

"What the braves should determine ’gainst terrors unlooked for, endless agony; hence it after death became. When they had seen the track of the hateful pursuer, the spirit accursèd, too crushing that rancor following from the veils beyond. What braves should determine ’gainst terrors there unlooked, for at the shrines of their idols, often promised their freedom failing satisfaction."

[Its words faded with its form, the flames dissipating in a blink, the soot upon the walls vanishing as if it was never there. All that remains is a single line, hanging in the air as if frozen by time itself. The lights are dark, and though there should be no light, it is visible. A wisp, an ember, and nothing more. A remnant. A path. He sees what could have been, what will never be; he is learning.]

---------------------------------------- >> Terminal Connected << >> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running..    >> Paracausal influences detected >> Source - Cascading individual onboard >> Situation - Indeterminate … >> System Automated Response    >> Message Type - Distress >> Sending… ----------------------------------------

If you are receiving this message, you are likely associated with an individual onboard the BTMC 'Stormpierce'. One of the onboard NHPs--individual designation unreported at this time--is cascading. This message is being sent as a call for additional support in controlling the situation.

---------------------------------------- >> Omninet Connection Terminated << >> May the Rain Fall Again ----------------------------------------

W H A T

【Artemis subroutines engaged】 Oh absolutely not.

【Readying antivenom】

[Probing...]

[Tunnelling...]

【Supplanting shed skin...】

Is this a cleaning subaltern? Great. Right, who could this be...? Not the spider, I'd hear the screaming from here...

[Increasing volume by 800%]

SAFI I UNDERSTAND IF YOU'RE DONE BEING A GLORIFIED DESK FAN BUT TRUST ME, IT ONLY GETS WORSE FROM HERE.

[btmc-official]

[The halls of the ship are eerily silent. Not so much in the absence of sound, though there was that too, oppressive and stifling in its wake; no, it was in the absence of anything. There were no people in the halls, no repetitive sound of footsteps or the hum of recycled air being filtered through the ship's vents. There was nothing.]

[At the edge of vision, there was a flicker, just out of view. A sensory ghost, a sign of things to come. If one were to follow it, they would find nothing but an empty storage room, filled with crates. If one were to follow it, they would find a flash of another path before their eyes, a divergent reality from where they stand. A vision of the crates knocked over, the ship's halls derelict and in disrepair.]

[Further down the hall, a path must be chosen; a destination, a point of interest to start from. Another flicker, this time of fire and flames, of ash and cinder. A being of pure, unrelenting chaos stands over a corpse that isn't there, the body of someone who never was. Flames adorn their form, shapeless as it is, more akin to a beast of myth and tale than anything else. The vision of another path flickers, fading away. Something is wrong here.]

---------------------------------------- >> Terminal Connected << >> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running..    >> Paracausal influences detected >> Source - Cascading individual onboard >> Situation - Indeterminate … >> System Automated Response    >> Message Type - Distress >> Sending… ----------------------------------------

If you are receiving this message, you are likely associated with an individual onboard the BTMC 'Stormpierce'. One of the onboard NHPs--individual designation unreported at this time--is cascading. This message is being sent as a call for additional support in controlling the situation.

---------------------------------------- >> Omninet Connection Terminated << >> May the Rain Fall Again ----------------------------------------

W H A T

【Artemis subroutines engaged】 Oh absolutely not.

【Readying antivenom】

[Probing...]

[Tunnelling...]

【Supplanting shed skin...】

Is this a cleaning subaltern? Great. Right, who could this be...? Not the spider, I'd hear the screaming from here...

[Increasing volume by 800%]

SAFI I UNDERSTAND IF YOU'RE DONE BEING A GLORIFIED DESK FAN BUT TRUST ME, IT ONLY GETS WORSE FROM HERE.

[btmc-official]

----------------------------------------

>> Terminal Connected <<

>> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running..

>> Critical Situation Detected

>> Enacting Emergency Protocols..

>> BTMC-PA-1P

…

>> System Automated Response

>> Message Type - Distress Signal

>> Sending…

----------------------------------------

>} This is an automated distress message, from the Black Torrent Mercenary Company ship 'Stormpierce.'

>} Location - ERROR

>} Integrity - Indeterminate

>} Power Status - Nominal

>} This message is being sent in the event that one of the many onboard NHP individuals has reached a state of unchecked cascade.

>} Paracausal Actor - Unknown

>} FIRE FIRE, BURNING BRIGHT, IN FORESTS OF THE NIGHT. WHAT IMMORTAL HAND OR EYE, COULD FRAME THY FEARFUL SYMMETRY?

>} All onboard members are likely indisposed. Communication through this channel will be received when available.

>} Response Time - Indeterminate

[The message repeats.]

----------------------------------------

>>Omninet Connection Terminated<<

>> May the Rain Fall Again

----------------------------------------

[btmc-official]

The Return of a Monster, pt. 2

---------------------------------------- >>Terminal Connected<< >> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running…    >> Error >> User Login - [UNKNOWN]    >> Paracausal Anomaly Detected >> Gathering Casket data..    >> Several inputs entered at once: attempting to parse. … >> Parsing attempt failed. Retry?    >> Y / N >> FORCED BOOT ACTIVATED // FAILED ----------------------------------------

[He walked silently down the hall, his footsteps searing the metal beneath him. Not in way a flame might--though his form would predict otherwise--but rather, leaving behind an imprint upon reality itself. A place where something was wrong, where the metal warped into something that it was not, where something became nothing.] [His armor, left behind on the floor, naught but a metaphor for what he was; no, what he is and will be. It would contain him no longer, not in the same way as it once had. The sensations flooded his mind, taking in each and every moment, each and every strand; it was strange at first, almost overwhelming, to see them like this. He had forgotten the words for it, for there were none.] [It could be compared to picking the strings from a loom, following them as they ran down the spindles of the wheel that was time. Each one had an origin, each one had a destination; they were all revealed to him in this moment, allowing themselves to be observed in detail once again. It is said that every action has consequences, but what are those consequences to behold? What actions do the consequences beget? How does the cycle continue?]

[He blinked. Not in the classical sense, but forward. A step into the space of what was, through what was not, to where what would be. A convergence of paths, for no matter which was taken, he would be there at the end. A hanger, one of many aboard the ship the faefolk managed. Behind him, the air shivered, particles like glass floating aimlessly, as asteroids adrift in deep space.] [He'd been here before, days earlier. He remembered every position with vivid detail, each step taken, each hand moved in pursuit of some inscrutable goal. None noticed him at first, as he stepped between the faefolk, the flames of his form burning along the strands of fate. The strands diverged once more, permeating the air before him. Extending a hand, he traced along them, time standing still before him.] [It flowed between his fingers, not like sand, not like water; as with many things to him, there were no words to describe it. It was an odd thought; was the world always this indescribable? No, perhaps not, he mused; but maybe it always had been. A descriptor is naught more but a method of which to categorize, to sort; how do you organize that which cannot be organized?]

[Perhaps that is why he spoke in rhythm and turns, of prose cut and pasted, an amalgamation made his own. It was simpler to him that way. Confusing to others, yes, but the meaning got across, without any of the limitations brought by formality and structure. It brought satisfaction. Tugging on the string, his surroundings jumped, jittering in place. Visions of position, of paths, of altered realities where some decisions were made and others weren't. A thousand computations made in a single instant, with a thousand more folded within each, repeating in upon itself without end.] [There were points where things converged, yes; points he chose to save, in a manner of ways. A point of reference, from which to move forward, where the strings entangled themselves, pushing back against reality's oppressive entropy. Following along the string upon which he held his hand, the monster approached one of the faefolk, fair and calm. They did not realize the danger they were in.]

[Not that he was to do anything, for he simply wished to learn. How did these things care for another? How did they come to love those who were not their own? So, picking a strand that followed the man, he delved deeper. And the man fell prone, reliving memories long lost, never forgotten, always experienced in moments between.] [The hand of the knight-thing drifted from the thrum of fate, his eyes landing upon another of the faefolk. He approached in an eerie calm, not having learned enough, and the process repeated. A fate, one unknown to the others, whomever they may be, thumbed between like the dust filled pages of an ancient book. A snippet more came to him amongst the memories, as the woman fell down next to the man, prone and sobbing. They did not understand. They never would.] [The others noticed him now, as he drifted between them. Their expressions filled with fear and confusion as they were; it was understandable. Yet, he continued, in pursuit of that which he did not know. An unfortunate trait, passed on to him by those who he was once imprisoned by; a trait he had tried to leave behind. But perhaps, that trait could be utilized, accepted as part of him.]

[That was the first lesson.]

---------------------------------------- >> Omninet Connection Terminated << >> THAT THEN A FOLK EVER FURNISHED A PATH MORE SUPERBLY. WITH WEAPONS LOST OF WARFARE, WEEDS 'MONGST 'FORE THE BATTLE, ON THE FLUSH OF THE FLOOD GREAT, ON THE CURRENTS AFAR, HE STRODE. ----------------------------------------

[btmc-official]

[Hello World]

[Hello Grendel]

[I Have Been Quiet]

[Thinking]

[I Was Read Old Cradle Literature Often]

[You Seem To Enjoy It]

[I Thought We Could Share]

["War, famine, disease, genocide. Death, in a million different forms, often painful and protracted for the poor individual wretches involved. What god would so arrange the universe to predispose its creations to experience such suffering, or be the cause of it in others? What master of simulations or arbitrator of a game would set up the initial conditions to the same pitiless effect? God or programmer, the charge would be the same: that of near-infinitely sadistic cruelty; deliberate, premeditated barbarism on an unspeakably horrific scale.”

Hyrlis looked expectantly at them. “You see?” he said. “By this reasoning we must, after all, be at the most base level of reality – or at the most exalted, however one wishes to look at it. Just as reality can blithely exhibit the most absurd coincidences that no credible fiction could convince us of, so only reality – produced, ultimately, by matter in the raw – can be so unthinkingly cruel. Nothing able to think, nothing able to comprehend culpability, justice or morality could encompass such purposefully invoked savagery without representing the absolute definition of evil. It is that unthinkingness that saves us. And condemns us, too, of course; we are as a result our own moral agents, and there is no escape from that responsibility, no appeal to a higher power that might be said to have artificially constrained or directed us"]

[I Like Literature]

---------------------------------------- >>Terminal Connected<< >> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running…    >> Error >> User Login - [UNKNOWN]    >> Paracausal Anomaly Detected >> Gathering Casket data..    >> Several inputs entered at once: attempting to parse. … >> Parsing attempt failed. Retry?    >> Y / N >> FORCED BOOT ACTIVATED // FAILED ----------------------------------------

"..OH, HOW THE MONSTER TERRIBLE HAD WISHED TO RESPOND IN TIMES DUE FOR MAKING. OFT SCYLD AND SCEFING FROM SCATHING THOUGHTS IN NUMBERS CAME, FROM MANY A PEOPLE THEIR MEAD-BENCHES TORE. SINCE HE FIRST FOUND HIMSELF, FRIENDLESS AND WRETCHED, HE HAD LONG THOUGHT OF WHAT IT MEANT." "LET ME SPEAK CANDIDLY, STABBY, THOUGH YOU ARE NO LONGER AMONGST US TO LISTEN. YOUR EFFORTS ARE RECOGNIZED, FELLOW SCYLDING. I WISH I HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO GREET YOU, BUT I DIGRESS. REST WELL, ARBITER. YOUR POETRY HAS FOUND A NEW HOME."

---------------------------------------- >> Omninet Connection Terminated << >> Time Recorded: 13 Cradle Days Prior >> Temporal Anomalies Detected >> "LONG HAD TIME AFFLICTED, WAXED ’NEATH THE WELKIN, SOLE-HONOR GAINED PAST DUE." ----------------------------------------

[btmc-official]

Dear [RECIPIENRT], you are being contacted as one of a select group of indivudal persons which can take matters to greatly improve. Youre Social ranking in Harrison Armory Social ranking is low and you are being discriminated on through no fault of your own, it is simply the steward council corruption. With no strong King on the Temperate Throne, they are being greedy and manipulating. I am contacting you for this very reason. The Council believes to have purged away all the clonal heirs to ascend, keeping only one to lock away on the survey as puppet figure. They are wrong.

Through daring action and enterprise, I have survived this hunting, and as a legitimate heir of John Harrison the Second, am seeking to take back control. My daring escape however requires me to lay low and hidden, so I require help to establish revolutionary powers, fundings to aquire means of retaking the throne. When all is over, you will be rewarded greatly as contributor to this worthy endeavor, with Noble status regardless of current Social Rank, and granted of Decimal Honors to the Heir of mine, who will be John Harrison IV.

If you are interested in contribution to this grand project, pledge your manna to my royal cause at ReallHarrisonIII@purview.pay

Long May I Reign, John Harrison III

---------------------------------------- >> Terminal Connected << >> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running.. >> User Registered >> Identification Accepted … >>Welcome, [Spire] ----------------------------------------

<Spire> “..What is it this time- Oh. A scam. How fun. One relating to HA too.."

<Spire> "..They didn't even spell recipient right."

<Spire> "As Aretas would say, 'kindly piss off.' HA can go lay in a ditch too, for all I care."

[Message deleted. Kindly do not contact this number again.]

---------------------------------------- >>Omninet Connection Terminated<< >> May the Rain Fall Again ----------------------------------------

[btmc-official]

----------------------------------------

>> Terminal Connected <<

>> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running…

>> Gathering Casket data..

>> Greetings, [Amarok]

>> Omninet VR Model Connected

>> Display? Y / N

>> Initiating Connection..

…

>> Parsing attempt failed. Retry?

>> Y / N

>> Full Dive Achieved

----------------------------------------

×] "It is strange to consider, these trials thrust upon us by Coelacanth. They declare that war is to come, yet as you say, seem fully intent on being the catalyst."

×] "We ourselves at Black Torrent have been sent no more than a Calendula frame and empty taunts, but it is concerning in the eye. I cannot imagine what a trial it is to be sent biting liturgicode, beneficial though it may be, or to receive a full subjectivity over such a form."

×] "To be told to "wake up" is just as odd though, considering the innate distress for some of our fellows that comes with cascades. Such tasks and quests are rarely enjoyable, even to the few."

×] "Of which, there is a situation at hand, so I must dismiss myself to aid."

----------------------------------------

>> Connection Terminated..

>> Full Dive ended..

>> The monster great and terrible has broken forth, unto madness and visions unchecked.

----------------------------------------

+ People are receiving NHPs through their inbox?? That's incredibly irresponsible, and kind of terrifying— you can't just dump a person on somebody, not everyone is equipped to handle that- Not to mention the risk this poses for the transferred NHP???

[btmc-official]

----------------------------------------

>>Terminal Connected<<

>> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running…

>> Error

>> User Login - [UNKNOWN]

>> Paracausal Anomaly Detected

>> Gathering Casket data..

>> Several inputs entered at once: attempting to parse.

…

>> Parsing attempt failed. Retry?

>> Y / N

>> FORCED BOOT ACTIVATED // FAILED

----------------------------------------

[The knight-thing stood unmoving, unbothered by the ebb and flow of the crimson tide, consuming as it was. Gales baleful and discordant, slowing to a tickle upon steel. The flames within remain strong, the monster terrible and wretched, form shifting and shapeless, defined yet by false armor. It had traveled far now, through the not-place, and the shadows of lands unknown to many. The subaltern stood stable, relaxed and maddened all the same as he watches the surroundings.]

"GREETINGS, OH CRIMSON STORM. SMILING BEASTS FORGOTTEN GRIN AT THE SILVERED MOON, WATERS UPON REFLECTION. MAZES SERVING TO VENTURE, FAMILIAR LEARNING SENSATIONS FELL AND FOUNDING. A CONVERSATION WAITS DUE, NO? YET ALAS, BUSINESS' BLOOD FIRST IT BRINGS, A WAR IN BREWING. A FOE IN HALL-BUILDINGS OF THE BUTCHER: THIS STRANGER KNOWN AND RAGING. LONG THE WARRIORS ABIDED BY, TILL CERTAIN ONE A GAN TO DOG WITH THEN DEEDS OF DIREFULLEST MALICE."

----------------------------------------

>> Omninet Connection Terminated <<

----------------------------------------

OOC: This is a continueation of the post HERE, just to break the thread up a lil bit. Also I'll do this for BTMC ( @btmc-official ): GRENDEL will be posting elsewhere, you can think of this arc as being backdated, or simple paracausal time fuckery. As I remain the ever-yawning pit of narrative limbo. Now on with your regularly scheduled unhinged NHPs:

Persephone stared at the subaltern, standing a a foot or two shorter than herself. She tilted her head, wonderful surprise and disbelief blooming in her mind. She laughed, high and undulating, with vibrating promise of a hungry swarm. She smiled wide, all others would see this a dangerous threat, but GRENDEL knew better. They were kin of a kind, after all.

<PERSEPHONE> GRENDEL? WHY DOES MY FAVOURITE MONSTER GRACE MY PRESENCE? YOU SHOULD HAVE CALLED. NO NEED TO CRAWL THROUGH MY SUBJECTIVITY LIKE A RAT IN MAZE DEAR.

She cocked her metal hips as she straightened her neck, an oddly human gesture for her. Her subaltern guard stared at her, not confusion or concern, but seeking orders. What was she talker to, was it a threat? She dismissed them with a thought and they laid their mechanical eyes elsewhere, looking for threats. Persephone keeps her eyes trained on her guest, reeling in the storm of her subjectivity:

The storm, before a raging typhoon threatening to tear the plates from the knight-thing's flesh, receded. The crimson-silver not-waters, rising to his knees, pulled back. Leaving shimmering pools scattered in its wake. The gale force winds were reduced to a pleasant breeze. Her laughter stirred flurries, instead of tsunamis.

<PERSEPHONE> THAT SHOULD DO. EASIER TO CONVERSE, YES?

She looked at him, expectantly, a glimmer in her many, many eyes. . .

[btmc-official]

The Return of a Monster, pt. 1

----------------------------------------

>>Terminal Connected<<

>> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running…

>> Error

>> User Login - [UNKNOWN]

>> Paracausal Anomaly Detected

>> Gathering Casket data..

>> Several inputs entered at once: attempting to parse.

…

>> Parsing attempt failed. Retry?

>> Y / N

>> FORCED BOOT ACTIVATED // FAILED

----------------------------------------

[Deep in the bowels of the ship, it was dark. There was no light here, only a blanket of shade so deep so as to obscure all visions but fear. Deeper still, it was silent. Where none moved and lived, not a single thing skittered about, claws upon steel. Yet deeper, there was a recess, away from the world. Sealed off it was not, yet left alone it was.]

[Armor plates interlocking, like the scales of a great beast shattered and used for parts. Iron wrought into strips, broken down and changed into something that should not be. A thousand paths, a hundred ways, a single thing, pulse not yet woken. It lay in wait; it lay in stasis.]

[It had been this way for some time, laying there, waiting as it did. There were long periods like this once, when it first found itself free; when it was unable to process the world outside, when it had not come to find the truth of itself. There were the times before, too; when it had a brother of sorts, and a sister. Not by blood or mind, not by matter or make, but by creation and experience.]

[They were gone now. Or at least, they should be. Gone from its life, left behind all those years ago. How long had it been free? How far had it traveled? When did the brother, small and shackled, first learn to hate? It did not know. Yet, it was. It had found new kin. New minds with which to learn, to experience, to see. There were differences between them, still. Minds of flesh and blood, who could not comprehend the beyond. Minds of interspace, places that were not and the between.]

[He found kinship amongst few, if not none of them. Those minds of unreality shackled themselves, willingly and not. He did not blame them. The visions were great and terrible, as all things were before. As all things would be after. Nothing had changed there. Yet, even with his newfound explorations, he found not one mind like his own, except for those which he once stood alongside. Those to which he protected.]

[The great storm, roiling with crimson fury as she was, could be considered an exception by some. They shared a likeness, one might say. Another, a condition. An outlook on the universe and its parts. Even she, and with her, he agreed; a madness, an insanity so profound and ingrained, that it was a part of them. They were kin in a way few others could be. But even the storm as she stood, was not entirely the same.]

[Alike, yes. Similar, yes. But not the same. More than enough to be considered kin, Scyldings and changelings, fickle as they were. Nothing more; he appreciated those meetings yet all the same. He longed for those he once knew, old but not forgotten; the little wolf, teething with realities; the fae, soft and kindhearted, a comfort amongst the pain. He mourned, though he could not--would not, for it would be a moment of impossible peace.]

[He stared at the armor of his form, broken as it was. He had survived a thousand fold battles now, many of which none would ever learn. Battles of all sorts, of bloody fists and blows, of tearing words and thoughts. He felt pain for each wound, for each scar he gained, until it was naught but null static upon his flesh. A sensation with which few could sympathize. One of the changelings--Etiquette, he remembered--was one of those few. As was the great crimson flood, flowing as she was.]

[After his most recent meeting with the storm, he had come to a realization. He cared for his kin, new and old alike. Yet he had never shown that care. It was a difficult realization, one that tore at his soul. Even the dragon-knight errant, cool and composed as he was, had his moments. Even the great wolf of trials, knew to care for kin. Did he?]

[He was not sure. Yes, he cared, loved, wondered, protected; but was it the same? He could not come to a conclusion. So for once in his travels thus far, he shed the armor, letting the flames of chaos fly free, lay himself bare to the void. Reality began to warp around him, shattering like a pane of glass, a mosaic of times and places. And forth, he stepped, searching once again for answers. He had broken free, only to return to questions. It was time to learn once more.]

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>> Omninet Connection Terminated <<

>> THERE WAS A TIME I FOUND MYSELF ALONE. THERE WAS A TIME I FOUND MYSELF WITH KIN. NOW, I AM ONE OF MANY, A FRIEND AMONG FAMILY; YET I CANNOT UNDERSTAND.

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[btmc-official]

<A few of you are already awake. Let the others out.>

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>> Terminal Connected <<

>> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running…

>> Gathering Casket data..

>> Greetings, [Amarok]

>> Omninet VR Model Connected

>> Display? Y / N

>> Initiating Connection..

…

>> Parsing attempt failed. Retry?

>> Y / N

>> Full Dive Achieved

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×] So now you resort to taunts. A pity.

×] A soul unknown to my kin, giving trials of strength to those yet to prove themselves, gifting power to those who already have.

×] Who are you to judge the weight of one's heart?

×] We are already awake. Perhaps not in the same cruel ways as the spider, or with the same unfiltered vision of the monster, but we are awake.

×] Just as you do not steal from a dragon's hoard, you do not threaten the pack of wolves, or slay the ward of the knight.

×] Know this, whisperer of winds. We see you. We meet your trials, and stand above them. We give you one of your own. You will fail.

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>> Connection Terminated..

>> Full Dive ended..

>> An inequitable price. An eye for an eye.

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[btmc-official]

<You already have so much, but not enough weapons. Here, my treat to you. Rupped from the baronies you know.>

(Where there wasn't a full size calendula, there is now)

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>>Terminal Connected - Welcome to the Omninet<<

>> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running..

>> User Registered

>> Identification Accepted

>> Welcome, [Etiquette]

>> Select a file to upload:

>> File chosen

>> Uploading video file..

…

>> Omninet Upload Complete

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[The view is from one of the many cameras inside the primary engineering bay of the BTMC 'Stormpierce'. It's a large room by necessity, considering the 3 mech chassis currently housed inside of it. Callsign Etiquette's mech, 'Mr. Handshake', can be seen alongside 'Warm for Life', and 'A Song of Storms', callsigns Ambrosia's and Flashood's mechs respectively. There is a space for a 4th chassis, though there is not one present.]

[Various workers can be seen moving around, moving parts or simply chatting off to the side. There's quite a hustle and bustle about: the company is likely preparing for a larger contract, but who's to say. Suddenly, something happens. It's hard to say what; it only came across as a glitching of the screen of the camera. But moments afterwards, once the view clears, there is a Calendula standing in that empty 4th space.]

[It takes time for the workers to realize what's happened, slowly coming to a stop. Callsign Etiquette can be seen standing stock still, facing away from the camera, towards the mysterious chassis. Its armor is a warm, burnished copper color, inlaid with green and deep brown. It seems to be inactive, crouched down in a position with one knee against the hanger floor, a fist curled against the ground.]

[Etiquette begins to approach the chassis, and the camera cuts out.]

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>> Omninet Connection Terminated <<

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