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  #76  
Unread 1st of November, 2011, 20:23
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The construct sighed and slumped back, somehow managed to keep its serving tray perfectly horizontal as it does so,
"Is there a language barrier perhaps? Am I not speaking clearly? This automaton's vocal abilities are quite remarkable but maybe they make my words unclear? I apologise if I come across as a tad antagonistic, but I am being held prisoner. Oddly, this is not a hobby of mine. I wish to leave as soon as it can be achieved."

Sweeping around dramatically, he throws a hand up,
"Let us start again. I offer my sincere apologies if I have insulted you. I really do. Now, sitting around gets us precisely nowhere. Do you agree?"

He looks from one of his reluctant rescuers to another, but continuing,
"And are we also agreed that despite appearances, this place is not really an infinitely large hotel lounge? It's just a clever faade. We need to look for a way to get behind the mask. And I need your help for that because I don't think that a few dry Martinis are going to open the way to the deeper reaches of this place."
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  #77  
Unread 2nd of November, 2011, 08:29
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Sitting down slowly Ingram nods gratefully toward Sam. His demeanor slumped, his affect weary, he distantly acknowledges the continuing gyrations of the prisoner's puppet. The crystal embedded on his wrist catches the diffuse light of their infinite prison as he rubs the bridge of his nose again and after a few more even breaths deliberately crosses his legs, lifts his shoulders back and down and draws a small smile onto his face that doesn't reach his eyes.
  #78  
Unread 2nd of November, 2011, 23:51
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Cat listens distractedly to the prisoner spar words with her companions, trying to parse out the deeper meanings and what it meant in terms of their prison. She was repulsed by the idea of being trapped here by automatons - essentially, worker bees that had lost their queen and now simply continued in a straight path, unable to make any real decisions. Knowledge was the key that might get them out, as the possessed golem demonstrated.

"Yes, get behind the mask. The problem, of course, is our relative lack of information regarding how exactly this facade is maintained. From my preliminary observations, I can see that there is plenty of arcane magic along with a good helping of complex geometry at work. I can certainly take a stab at things, but it is way outside of anything I've ever seen."

She considered the steward's abrupt appearance and departure. Their was obviously some way of slipping between the fabric of infinity that surrounded them.

"The steward was able to enter and depart easily enough, as was the body you currently control. Have you any idea of the principles involved in managing such an avenue?"
  #79  
Unread 3rd of November, 2011, 06:48
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A frustrated Cyrill looks up to where the face ought to be on the construct.

"Cat is right, you ought to know something seeing as you were able to get us in here in the first place, and even if you don't know how it works, you got it to work. A Martini might not get us to the inner depths but it comes from somewhere and you brought it here. Whatever you're doing, do it again and we can be on our way."

Nodding to Ingram, "We can exchange 'pleasantries' with it all day, but it's got the hand the gate and we're just cows in the corrale. Might as well see if it's the slaughter house or greener pastures."
  #80  
Unread 3rd of November, 2011, 23:46
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Sam chuckles as he sets the twin barrels of the shotgun back into place. Dropping in two 12 gauge shells he snaps them close with a flick of the wrist. Without speaking he hands the weapon to Cat along with a bandoleer of shells.
  #81  
Unread 16th of November, 2011, 07:52
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Cat tucks the shotgun neatly in the crook of her arm, reminded suddenly of hunting trips in India with father. An image of him stabs through her mind, sprawled in a widening pool of blood. Her heart skips a beat and a sudden sweat starts on her brow. That hadn't happened. She'd been looking for him with Sam, and they were close - they had been close and then . . .

White emptiness. That's all she saw when she tried to remember where they had been before they'd suddenly found themselves catapulted here. She dug through her memories frantically, recalling her flight from the estate with Sam in a makeshift dirigible, joining Mohinder in India as they began the search, getting separated in Egypt, searching and searching and finally finding the lead they needed. But that was all, for in the way once again all she found was a towering wall of blazing white, blocking her off from the recent past.

It was fear, that's all it was - an image conjured from her subconscious worry that she'd never see him again, that she'd never have the chance to prove herself worthy in his eyes. She glances sideways at Sam, wondering, and then abruptly dismisses the though from head. He would never keep that from her. They had to find him, but first they had to get out of here. With an effort, she shrugs off her doubts and focuses on the problem in front of them.

Once more she pulls out her makeshift arcanometer, holding it up to one eye and focusing carefully on the silver tray of force in the constructs grasp. It had appeared, but not out of nowhere.

"Your tray. Can you disperse it and call it back again? It might give me some insight."
  #82  
Unread 30th of November, 2011, 03:30
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The golem swooped towards Cat, letting her realign her complex tool upon it,
"Of course, my dear girl. You just had to ask."
Making a conscious effort not to wave his hand between the tray and Cat, which involved no small measure of fighting the previous occupant of the magic construct, the refreshment automaton summoned another round of drinks.
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  #83  
Unread 4th of December, 2011, 03:10
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The tray slides out - a shimmering, bounded plane of force, and Cat watches through the crosshairs of her makeshift Arcanometer, not even daring to blink. Tendrils of space folded in on one another in a complicated, weave-like structure that defied any attempt at deciphering a pattern, yet also somehow elicited the feeling there was indeed an underlying organization to it, however alien. She didn't bother with that yet, instead focusing with rapt intensity on the subtle variations in brightness, singling out the lines that coincided with the tray. She turns her head to the left, following the line she had identified, walking off past Ingram and then Cyrill as well, navigating around furniture and decorative plants until finally she halts.

"There," she says, staring through her lens at the seething pocket of folded space only visible to her, "is our anchor."

Lowering the scope, she pulls out a small pad and pen and quickly sketches a bizarre, multi-line pattern, periodically staring up at the anchor through the Arcanometer and making small adjustments.

"With a little luck," Cat says, pulling some instruments out of her bag, "I can open it up and have a look inside."
 

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