<tubes|GM> ...
<tubes|GM> You were getting so goddamn sick of this creepy old mansion. A sandwich, man, you'd just wanted to toast the bread for a freakin' sandwich, and the power went out. Again. This whole place was going to burn down, you knew it, but every time you bring up the fact that the breakers blow just turning on the flippin' /microwave/, your parents just brush it off.
<tubes|GM> They're still at work, so it's up to you to go and rummage in the dusty and musty closet under the stairs to flip 'em back. First you've gotta find the string for the bare bulb to light the damn thing, then you gotta search through the fuse box, becuase of course the switches are labeled in an arcane and incomprehensible manner, and some of them you aren't /supposed/ to flip back, but then of
<tubes|GM> course only some of those are actually covered up or taped off and-
<tubes|GM> A gigantic pain in the ass, basically. You finally manage to locate the couple of fuses you think control the kitchen anyway, and flip them back.
<tubes|GM> You feel a bit of a jolt as you do, but no worse than if you'd rubbed your feet on the carpet too much. Which you could have. ||
<-> FaustAndAbout is now known as Faustus
<Nick|Eric> Damn, this place is annoying. It's so old that it's no wonder everything's broken. The wiring was probably done by Ben Franklin himself. I leave the closet, coughing. Someone should dust in there. Maybe his uncle did something fucky with the electrical, messed up the wires or hooked up something that wasn't supposed to be hooked up. Back in Iowa, the worst elestrical issue he had to deal with was weather-based power outages. I scratch my head, and head back to the kitchen. Ham and swiss, here I come! ||
<tubes|GM> The air smells a little funny, you think, as you manage to extricate yourself from the closet, but it's probably just all the dust stuck up your nose from being in there.
<tubes|GM> Your uncle could have done anything to the house, if you were being honest. Well, you were told he was your Uncle, but nobody had been really keen on explaining through what part of the family, and your parents seem confused on the issue as well. Grandma's newphew's second wife's cousin, or some bullshit like that. You'd only seen the man once at a Christmas party when you were younger - a
<tubes|GM> sharp-faced man, greying at the edges, but probably not much older looking than your dad, you think. He'd gotten into an argument with someone and stormed out, and hadn't gone to one since. You don't /think/ there's any bodies in the basement, but that's not really a sure thing either.
<tubes|GM> It's just a short walk back down the hall from the closet, back to the door into the kitchen at the end of it -
<tubes|GM> The kitchen door isn't there.
<tubes|GM> ||
<tubes|GM> ((whoops))
<Nick|Eric> Wait, what? I mean, I haven't been here that long, but I'm pretty sure I remember where the kitchen is. I look around. Did I flip the "kitchen exists" switch instead of "kitchen power" by accident? I knock on the wall. If it's a trick door or something it should sound hollow, right? ||
<tubes|GM> Sounds like a normal wall to you. What the fuck is going on? That weird smell gets stronger when you get close to the wall. You look around, trying to figure out if you maybe got turned around. The dining room is to your right, and it's also connected to the kitchen. As far as you know. Where the fuck could the door have gone? Did you catch some kind of weird brain-disease from the closet? ||
<Nick|Eric> Maybe there wasn't ever a door here? Was I confusing the floor plan with our old house? Doors don't usually disappear. And wierd smells don't normally just appear. I check my forehead. Do I have a fever
<Nick|Eric> Anyway, I'm still hungry, and I'd still like that sandwich. I go into the dining room, no less confused. ||
<tubes|GM> You don't feel any different. You go into the dining room, and the door to the kitchen is still there like it's always been. Maybe you had a brain fart and got turned around or something. ||
<Nick|Eric> As long as the door isn't there from one side and not the other, I'm pretty sure I can conclude that I just misremembered. And hopefully my sandwich hasn't mysteriously disappeared, too. ||
<tubes|GM> Your sandwich did not appear to be here anymore.
<tubes|GM> The weird smell from earlier hits you dead in the face, accompanied by the buzzing and rumbling of high-voltage wires and machinery.
<tubes|GM> This was roughly the kitchen, in shape and form, but it looks like it had been extensively remodeled - the central island in the center, formerly covered with cutting boards, knives, and other food prep equipment looks like it's had the granite countertop taken off and replaced with cheap plywood.
<tubes|GM> It's inlaid with what looks like copper wires and covered with books of all descriptions.
<tubes|GM> That's just what you can see staring at you directly from where you've opened the door - the noises are coming from the right, where a largish dining table normally sat, with a view out on part of the yard. ||
<Nick|Eric> OK. Shit. This is definitely not me misremembering.
<Nick|Eric> This doesn't make any sort of sense. The kitchen looked one way, and now it's... like this. I step into the room. The wires in the counter are pretty cool. I wonder if they're there for anything besides aesthetics.
<Nick|Eric> I take a deeper breath of the smell. What is that?
<Nick|Eric> I pause for a second. Should I call mom? What if she gets here and everything's back to normal? She'll send me to an asylum. Not that I'd blame her, this situation is four parts cool, four parts creepy, and two parts "I've lost my mind."
<Nick|Eric> Well, if I've lost my mind, I might as well enjoy it, right?
<Nick|Eric> I start reading some of the titles of the books. ||
<tubes|GM> The source of the noise is a giant...You're not sure what the fuck it is. The windows are gone, replaced with plywood, and mounted on them is some giant...symbol, made out of tubing - filled with some viscous fluid -, More wires, this time braided and twined, and what looks like silver paint. The design is intricate, filled with pentacles and pentagrams and a dozen other shapes besides, all
<tubes|GM> feeding into each other. After a few seconds of looking at it, your eyes start to hurt, the edges of the shape getting blurrier the more you look at it.
<tubes|GM> They all feed down into a machine on the floor, which sits next to another multi-layered circle. The machine looks like someone took a computer and hit it with an old diesal generator covered in glue until they stuck together, but it flickers and rumbles, apparently...'on'. For some measure of on.
<tubes|GM>  There's books all over the table, opened to random pages, or just piled up. They're of all ages, shapes, and sizes, with the oldest looking like hand-bound museum pieces, except they have titles like "Index Nomina Prohibitus" and "Of Arcanum and Daemons most Foule""
<tubes|GM> The more recent-looking ones seem to consist mostly of computer science and engineering textbooks, along with sheafs of stapled-togther computer printouts in various stages of abuse.
<tubes|GM> [The wires on the table converge into a pentagram, lined in more silver paint. There's a couple of nicknacks inside it - a vial of dried something, a wilting flower, a steel thimble - but if they mean anything or are supposed to be doing something, you can't tell. ||
<-> Faustus is now known as FaustAndAbout
<Nick|Eric> Oh, wow. This isn't some sort of low-level losing my mind. I've gone and lost the whole goddamn thing at once. Demons most Foul? Arcanum? Prohibited something or other? This is textbook dark magic. Well, except for the part where it's running on a neon sign and a computer strapped to some car engine--type shit.
<Nick|Eric> I chuckle nervously.
<Nick|Eric> "Hello? Anyone there? I found your Satan-summoning neon!"
<Nick|Eric> This is probably the most interesting that's happened in my life, but I'd be lying to myself if I didn't admit I'm also super freaked out. I pick up one of the books that looks like it has some magic stuff and isn't falling apart and retreat to the dining room. ||
<-> Thalia|Lumina is now known as Thalia
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<tubes|GM> Your shout is oddly muffled, as though the air isn't quiet convinced it needs to let the sound travel. You perusve through the books, trying to find a decent one from a more recent century that might explain what the fuck all this is. It takes a bit of rummaging, but you finally find one near the bottom labeled "Daemons and Magick Obscurum". Purported to be othered by a...Sir Reginald B. Prestt.
<tubes|GM> The pages have that yellow, brittle quality that you get in turn of the century publications, but otherwise looks to be in good condition. ||
<tubes|GM> ((Authored*))
<Nick|Eric> Right, OK. I sit down at the table. I can't do anything without understanding what the fuck is going on. Well, I mean, I could. I could start smashing things or messing with the blurry machine or go back and mess with the fuse box again.
<Nick|Eric> I laugh again. This is fucked up.
<Nick|Eric> Unfortunately doing any of those things seems likely to summon a demon, or worse. I don't want to deal with a demon. What even would a demon be like. I guess this book probably tells me.
<Nick|Eric> The author isn't a name I recognize, but the last name can't be a coincidence. Is my family like a line of secret Satanists or something? Maybe Mom would know what's going on.
<Nick|Eric> God, I hope she doesn't know. That has a lot of terrible implications.
<Nick|Eric> Alright, fuck. I need to calm down. Knowledge is power. Well, probably magic is power. Or computers. Magic computers.
<Nick|Eric> I start reading. ||
<tubes|GM> The dedication places the book as being made just before WW1. That's about the only thing that makes any sense to everything you knew before. "Before", because that's pretty much what you'd have to call it. The fact that this entire...subject of study? Field? Existed right under your nose, the whole time, and you had no clue.
<tubes|GM> The subject of the book itself seems to be concerned with constructing a broad history of "Daemonology", as the author calls it, though he also interchangably uses words like "the Art", "The Practice" and "Magic/k". He assumes the reader already has a basic working knowledge of the subject, though, which makes a little hard for you to follow, but you manage to pick up the basics of what exactly
<tubes|GM> all that shit where your kitchen was supposed to be is doing.
<tubes|GM> In sum: Magic is real. Actual, defy the laws of physics and probability, rip out people's souls, get hunted by the Catholic Church and burned alive, M-A-G-I-C. Magic.
<tubes|GM> As far as you can tell, Magic is primarily accomplished through...summoning. The author calls them demons, but for the most part, his descriptions don't really match up with the hellfire-and-horns image that might really conjure. With the right kind of setup, you could punch a hole to...somewhere, and on the other side - things were listening. Again, the right kind of set up, you could make them
<tubes|GM> sit up and pay attention, and they might come over here to lend you a hand. He describes them in natures, with fancy Latin terms, but as far as you can tell, all but the strongest are only vaguely aware or active, closer to lizards or dogs than something that might try to enslave mankind for their sins. Very dangerous, finnicky dogs and lizards being summoned from another dimension.
<tubes|GM> He talks about "riders", and different types of meditation and tattoos. Copper wire pentacles only get a mention as "promising experiments being practiced overseas". Advances in demon-summoning technology, maybe?
<tubes|GM> The Catholic thing gets a big discussion, this being what amounts to a history textbook, apparently. That's real too. "Bookburners", the man calls them, because that's what they like to do with texts they get their hands on. He claims they're controlled by the Vatican - though let's be real, a cadre of demon-hunters makes more sense than a lot of what you might see on the internet about what
<tubes|GM> goes on in the Vatican basement - but, being isolated and scattered all over the world in cells tends to lead in variations on their interpretation of their mission. The author seems more concerned with appearing as though he's well-learned on the subject than actually discussion their practices and how they work, but as far as you can tell there's more than just one branch, and they all differ
<tubes|GM> in how they handle magic, when they find it. You haven't heard of any witch-burnings around here lately, so hopefully you'll be safe from that. ||
<Nick|Eric> Holy shit, that's a lot to take in. Fuck me.
<Nick|Eric> Demons, riders, summoning? Is that what my uncle was up to? He, what? Summoned the wrong demon and got eaten by a 'dangerous dog'? Did my uncle build this kitchen, then, too? Why did flipping some fuses make the kitchen change? And the door disappearing?
<Nick|Eric> This whole experience only raises more questions every time I learn something new. I'm not just confused. I'm... befuddled. Overwhelmed. Inundated with information.
<Nick|Eric> I'm apparently descended from demonologists? And not super great ones, as far as I can tell. My uncle got eaten, and this guy who wrote the book could hardly explain what's going on.
<Nick|Eric> "What the hell?" I ask the air. "This doesn't make any sense."
<Nick|Eric> If I'd been four parts excited to four parts creeped out before, now it's more like one to seven. It's too much.
<Nick|Eric> Alright. Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out.
<Nick|Eric> There's a pentagram on the counter, and a machine with tubes and wires. Pentagrams are for summoning, probably. If what people say about dark magic is true at all. Then the machine? Is it trapping the demon? Harvesting its power? Either way, not something to fuck with. I figure investigating the pentagram is safer. Presumably whatever it summons already came through.
<Nick|Eric> I walk over to the pentagram and examine the stuff inside. The smell is bothering me. What is it? ||
<tubes|GM> It's taken you a while to place the smell, mostly because it's not stuff you've interacted with for any serious amount of time. Ozone, you think? -  with a hint of sulphur. Brimstone, in other words. That was the smell of active magic, apparently. What a great combination.
<tubes|GM> The pentagram on the table doesn't really seem to reveal anything more to you now that you know what you're dealing with. It doesn't appear to be 'live', for one, and whatever was in the little vial is long pass it's expiration date - you can see a bit of mold-fuzz growing inside. Clearly, though, it, the thimble, and the flower were intended to be catalysts of some sort - they're in seperate
<tubes|GM> circles inside the pentacle, marked off. This was obviously some kind of reusable worktable - the copper wire forming the more complex shape is surrounded by a larger circle made of a silver inlay, surrounded by some kind of epoxy with little crystals in it - salt, probably? Reggie discussed those as the best things to 'bind' the 'demons' with, but here they were apparently just backup to the
<tubes|GM> copper wire. Now that you look, you can see that it trails down the side of the table to the generator on the floor. Apparently electricity was better. ||
<Nick|Eric> OK, so the pentagram's not active. I wonder if the liquid that was in the thimble is the same thing that's in the tubes on the windows. If it's growing mold, it must be food or something close to it.
<Nick|Eric> I'm not getting anywhere by looking at this stuff though. Even if I knew more, I doubt I could figure out what's going on. It seems likely that my uncle recently invented this, looking at all the computer science and engineering textbooks. I doubt he wrote down how to work it. Maybe it doesn't work, and that's why he disappeared.
<Nick|Eric> Maybe I should try something simpler.
<Nick|Eric> "OK, so if you're a demon and you can hear this you should let me know."
<Nick|Eric> It's a stupid plan, but that doesn't mean that I don't think there's a chance it might work. ||
<tubes|GM> There's no response that you can see. The machine in the corner continues to hum. ||
<Nick|Eric> I let out an exhale. Apparently I was holding my breath.
<Nick|Eric> Maybe... maybe I should go back to the basement, see if I can flip a fuse and get rid of this new kitchen. Maybe it would be a good idea to stay away from all this demon stuff. Part of me says "No shit it's a good idea to stay away from demon stuff," but another part of me says "How cool would it be to use real, actually real goddamn magic?"
<Nick|Eric> I check the books. Maybe my uncle left some notes or something. Instructions is hoping for too much, probably, but he had to have left some documentation of his dieas and how everything fits together, right? ||
<-> Antioch|GM is now known as Antioch
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<-> FaustAndAbout is now known as Faustus
<-> Faustus is now known as Faustus|Ivo
<Nick|Eric> ((ideas*))
<-> Faustus|Ivo is now known as Faust|Ivo|PitB
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<tubes|GM> Most of the books are dated, though most of it makes more sense now that you know what you're looking at. The sheafs of computer print-outs on the side closests to the giant thing on the wall provide the most information, at least with what's going on here, but apart from a brief synopsis on the front generally explaining what they focused on - the mathematics, the architecutre, they descend
<tubes|GM> very quickly into an indescipherable morass of computer science lingo, mathematical equations, and discussions of the 'entities' - your uncle seems (seemed?) unwilling to call them demons - too detailed for you to really follow. From what you can gather, the thing on the wall, and the shit supporting it, was more or less a very complicated meeting room: The most powerful demons, the most useful
<tubes|GM> ones, were also the most cognizant, and they tended to find human perception, human conciousness, very...appetizing. Even when they did restrain themselves, their very presence tended to short circuit human brains nearby, much the same as a magnet over a computer. The end result, obviously, was not great. He was trying to build a safe room of some kind, to try and meet them on neutral ground.
<tubes|GM> You think, anyway. The other option was that he was intentionally trying to destroy the earth and everyone on it, which doesn't seem particularly bright. ||
<-> Lurks|GM is now known as JustLurking
<-> soulpelt|Wink is now known as soulpelt|
<Nick|Eric> I can't imagine that anyone would want to destroy the world in a way that they'd build this machine to do it.
<Nick|Eric> So if this is a meeting room, does that mean that his uncle is... in a meeting? If this thing is some sort of magic containment device, there's no reason I can see why it might not also mess with time.
<Nick|Eric> Or did the project fail, and the meeting room wasn't enough to contain the demons? Did they kill him?
<Nick|Eric> What makes the demons so useful that you'd want to risk your life just by talking to them? If they didn't appear without being summoned, why would people summon demons that would eat your mind just by being in the same place as you? It doesn't make sense. I mean, sure, maybe some power-hungry people tried it way back in the day, but once they figured out what was happening, why would they keep doing it?
<Nick|Eric> The magic they can give you must be incredibly strong.
<Nick|Eric> I can't say the idea isn't fascinating. I half want to try and figure out how to jump into the meeting room myself, but obviously that didn't go well for my uncle.
<Nick|Eric> This is so fucked up. Demons. Fuck.
<Nick|Eric> I should get help before trying to do anything with all of this. It would be easy if I was still in Iowa. I could just ask some of my friends at school. Well, some of the more open-minded ones, anyway. Here, I don't know anyone. I don't know if I can get help with all of this. It doesn't seem like the type of thing to take to the police.
<Nick|Eric> Maybe I could figure out how to do some little magic from the books here. Maybe the rest of the house is changed now, too, and there's more stuff all around.
<Nick|Eric> I leave the kitchen, for now, hoping that it'll still be like that when I come back. Nothing would suck more than being given a key to this whole new world, this new system of study, of magic, and then getting locked out forever.
<Nick|Eric> I look around the house. Are the other rooms different? Any more missing doors? ||
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<tubes|GM> The house as you can access it seems largely the same, but it's...incomplete? Doors that you'd take to go elsewhere are just missing, and the stairs dead end into a similar blank wall where the landing would otherwise be. The front door just doesn't have a doorknob, and all the windows are covered with plywood - there's no view to the outside to be found anywhere. It seems that the only things
<tubes|GM> here are the kitchen, the main entry-hall, and the rooms that branch off of there - the main study, the living room, the kitchen and dining room, along with a few closets. Including the one with the breakers - it doesn't seem any different than when you went in there to begin with. ||
<Nick|Eric> So, I guess I'm trapped here, then. Unless I can figure out how I got 'here' in the first place. Which probably had something to do with the breakers. I flipped the wrong switch, maybe, and then there was a weird smell. Maybe I can just mess with the fuses until the smell goes away, and then I'll be back to normal? Or maybe flipping different switches leads to different parts of the house opening up. I'd be surprised if those few rooms are the only parts of the house that my uncle used for magic stuff.
<Nick|Eric> I flip the kitchen switch back and forth a few times. Maybe it'll do something, at least? ||
<Nick|Eric> ((Pause here? I gotta get to sleep))
<tubes|GM> ((yeah, that's fine))