“I see it, it’s the hybrid. Oh god, it’s hideous.” he sees the face of man that looks like it was beaten to a pulp, and then sprinkled with spider innards . “Smash the mirrors, we can’t let it get through and fuse. The spider government will be smaller, but still just as powerful.”
Dirae Erinyes snaps out of their reverie and returns to reality with fists through neighboring mirrors. Evensong resorts to her pistols, though G-d knows what she’s aiming at in the mirrors.
“I doubt there are more hybrids, they would only need one for the fusion, but they might have an army of spiders with them.” proclaims Hitch as he smashes the mirror with his scepter. “Destroy the mirrors. Especially that one.” he points to a wall against which is standing an ornate mirror. “That is the one from my vision…”
Dirae Erinyes – through the mass destruction of glass – gives Evensong a clean shot. 12 shoots and two reloadings later the mirror has turned dull as it shards fall upon the floor.
“Does that mean the hybrid is trapped in the mirror marshes? It sure didn’t look like London back there.”
“Knobby, can you cast something that will disable the connection to the marshes in mirrors? Evensong and Dirae, while Knobby does that, try to find a way to disrupt the centre circle. We cannot let it get there.” he says going over to the shattered ornate mirror. As he puts a shard up to his scepter, he sees as it fuses with it, and a slider carving appears in the side of the handle. “This mirror, whatever it was, most likely had mystic glass, and the hybrid used it to create a scepter, this one, which he in turn created the figurines with.”
Dirae Erinyes once again starts smashing the circle. Evensong escapes from the anchoring effects through a pathway of destruction. “Why does the Correspondence always mean fire?” she mutters as she rummages through the props. Investigating on the plywood horses, she finds something.
“I figured if they thought the area safe enough for their circle, perhaps they left some other clues. Best gather intelligence as we prepare to deal with this menace. In this case we have play; which features actors with far too many legs. Does anyone know a Minamoto Tsuchigumoz?”
“No, why would I know that name? Did you find something?”
“This script right here. It appears to be a love story between a person and a spider-council.” She sudden drops it with a shriek. “Correspondence on the last page,” she explains as she quickly hides her hurt hands with a pair of gloves. “Further proves my suspicion that this was the first hideout of our quarry. In the play, it mentioned a location in the mirror marshes; The Pale Palace of Bleached Desires.”
“Minamoto Tsuchigumoz is the name on the script. Probably a pen-name.”
“Well, we may have stopped the ritual for now’ but there are still some intact circles around London and who knows how many of those mirrors they have stashed in that palace of theirs. Whoever they are, they’re a spider fanatic, which means the destruction of these circles will fill them with a rage beyond all others. It they truly do love the spiders so much, that is most likely why they fused themselves with the spider-queen. In a sick twisted way, a show of affectation towards these beings. Remember, we only destroyed 2 of the 5 circles, not including the centre one.” Paces around the room, "We have to go to the source, and destroy both them and their plans once and for all! Are you in, my friends? Are you ready to save this miserable ruin of a city? Are you ready to DEFEND LONDON??!!
“Saving London is what we call a light morning exercise.”
Raises the scepter once more and says “You know what to say… TO THE MARSHES!!!”
OOC: Sorry about the delay. I thought I had time yesterday but then life intervened while I was on the forums. Let’s get this party started
Those who had been the mirror marshes before mostly tell of the bright colors and light: both rarities in London. This place is different. White webs dominated, covering the ground, the trees, and even the sky.
The group is standing on the edge of gulf-spanning web. They can feel the tremors of the various spiders traveling the web, from the small sorrow spider to the massive spider councils. The scent of fear – a trite penny dreadful cliché turned literal here - permeates the air. High above, above the current layer, there seems to a replica of the Shuttered Palace. If the Shuttered Palace was built to have doors every which way. If the warped geometry was due to the more flexible spider silk allowing it to fold and bend in ways stone should not and not just whatever the H—L is going on in the basement. If the walls were covered in the captured insects and other prey rather than just roses.
Dirae Erinyes whistles, “They have been busy.” Evensong takes a step out, looking at the dark water below the layers of web.
“We head to the palace do we not? This must be some sick twisted ideal, a fantasy that they wish to become real, to sit within the palace walls as the ruler of London. We destroyed the center circle in London but they can always make a larger, more formidable one. If we do this, we have to end them once and for all, so this plan can never see the gaslight of day.”
“Before Dirae Erinyes charges on ahead, do anyone of us have a plan?”
“I do, alright, Knobby, you’re up first, see a mirror, block the connection. Dirae you walk forward behind him, if something jumps out you kill it. Evensong, you stay behind me in case anything happens and I’ll stay in the middle, where I’ll be able to see any ambushes in the front and back. Alright, we go up the steps towards the place. Any problems with that plan, anyone?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Shall we continue onwards?
Hitch begins to make his way towards the entrance of the structure, his weapons in hand.
OOC: Sorry of the delay, it’s been a busy week.
The party passed through the entrance, pushing strands out of the way then properly opening doors. The hallways immediately spiral off. A path of dark silken thread goes down circular attempts at stairs. What analogues to the royal basements lurk down there? For above, a light thread starts on the walls and climbs to the ceilings and above. The hallways on these level spin off a main room, a trophy room filled with sleeping spiders and cocooned figures.
“Let’s go and see if any of those poor b----d’s can be rescued.” Dirae Erinye urges.
“And straight in the mandibles of the sleeping arachnids,” Evensong cautions.