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ph_logs2023-05-30 10:42 am
pumpkinhollow) wrote in ph_logs2023-05-30 10:42 am
The Ocularum
THE OCULARUM Location:
West Dream Analytics Overview
- This page is intended for RP threads taking place at or in relation to the Ocularum! Additional information regarding the organization and its workings can also be found below. -
On the outskirts of Pumpkin Hollow, where the rural Northwest Hollow meets the edges of Lockwood Forest, there is a cottage. A thatched roof with wooden detailing houses a tall brick chimney from which a rich pinewood smoke rises in plumes. Warm and inviting windows glow with lantern light. A red door with a golden knocker is seated below a sign. "WEST DREAM ANALYTICS," it reads. This is both the home and the business of psychic dream therapist Neil West. Indeed, it is also the meeting place of the organization which he founded--- the Ocularum. You must be invited to attend either by another member or by Neil himself, though they don't tend to be picky. Moreso they are cautious. They've been burned before for speaking out against the church's way of doing things. But they are committed to action. The Ocularum believes that they can settle the issue of Pumpkin Hollow's haunting once and for all, and that the Temple of Sacred Roots is doing nothing but hindering progress. But if you earn their trust, they will show you the secrets which they believe are key to finally undoing the curse besetting the island. Membership
Initiation | Due to their poor relations with much of the island, the Ocularum is slow in its induction process. Start with a simple orientation and earn the trust of its members over time to learn more.
Benefits | Those who work with the Ocularum will find themselves less impacted by the effects of the curse and better prepared for what the island throws at them. This is in part due to Neil's occult expertise and strategies taught by him for dealing with these things, but members also find themselves passively having better luck as well. Drawbacks | Neil's outspoken views against the Temple's methods and ongoing feud with Dahlia Leeds has not made the Ocularum particularly popular. Joining them may occasionally earn you the ire of others. There are also sometimes murmurings about "costs" among the members, implying that there may be some financial expectations. Philosophy
The Ocularum believes that the solution to Marrow Isle's problems lies in occult knowledge and direct action. Whether the result of an angry ancient deity, restless spirits, or a leyline of dark energy beneath the land, there is some terrible magic plaguing the island. It can be treated. It can be harnessed.
However, the Temple's insistence on waiting around for dead or apathetic goddesses to answer the prayers of the people is putting this on hold. The Historical Society is no better, focusing on reactionary measures gleaned from dusty old books. And the heretics in the forest are respectable folk but are exposing themselves to unnecessary danger. The Ocularum needs bold and dedicated truth seekers who aren't afraid to step into the unknown for the sake of protecting themselves and their neighbors. |
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After a moment he adds, with bitter amusement, "Of course, he didn't know I was wearing a teleportation belt when he had one of his thugs throw me in here. Always be prepared, hyeh hyeh hyeh..."
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He transforms back into his spider shape, shrinking down to a small enough size that he can easily keep pace with Neil. "The Noisemaze -- the original version, that is -- had an inimical effect on Cybertronian brains. The background radiation, the patterns formed by the terrain, even the colors in the sky are a torment to Cybertronian senses. It was not simply enough that its prisoners should be trapped here; Prowl wanted them to be punished as well. Every second was a torment..."
The corridor opens out into an immense room, the centerpiece of which is a deep hole, over which is suspended a metal tower whose other end vanishes into the enshrouded ceiling. From the gap between the tower and the floor shines a virulent green light, just a few shades off from the color of powdered green tea.
"When I escaped from the Noisemaze, I could hardly remember who I was, or what I'd been doing before I was thrown inside," Tarantulas muttered. "The only clear memory I had was that I'd been betrayed, and lost everything that mattered most to me. Everything else -- my identity itself -- lay in fragments at my feet. I wandered the galaxy for three million years, studying the secrets of the universe while I looked for a new purpose in life. But it wasn't until I discovered the human homeworld, Earth, that I felt ready to begin a new chapter in my existence. I encountered a novel life form, the spider, which filled me with such delight that I felt compelled to rebuild myself in its image. And I found the results of my old mentor Shockwave's experiments with energon development."
Extending one of his long, multi-jointed legs, he invites Neil to draw closer to the edge, holding him secure while the two of them peer down into the gap. The walls and floor of the hole are lined with large green crystals, the source of the light. For just a second, a flicker of movement: Tarantulas, his spider's head severed from its body, grapples with a green-armored warrior. Their anguished shouting is nearly drowned out by the blare of alarms. Tarantulas notices nothing.
He continues, voice quickening, his normal energy beginning to resurge: "Energon is my species' lifeblood. We use it to power our computers, our tools, even our bodies. Shockwave seeded dozens of worlds with the crystals, to avert the famine he saw lurking in our world's future. I found the results of his experiments and improved upon them, creating my obtenteum. A power source of unprecedented strength and efficiency."
He turns in a neat circle, showcasing the rows of computer banks, the monitors, the phantoms in armor with weapons in hand who wrestle with his enlarged body and cut away his limbs. "With the obtenteum, I returned to the Noisemaze and made myself its master. I built a machine that could hold back its damaging effects, and around the machine I built my Tor, a fortress and laboratory in one inviolable tower. Perfectly secret. Perfectly safe. A refuge where I could continue my work undisturbed, and in time recover all that I had lost with interest."
He argues with a white suit of armor, the two of them trading impassioned words and then vicious blows. Tarantulas slumps, his pedipalps nearly dragging the ground. "Or at least, that was the idea..."
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And then, when Tarantulas concludes, he jumps directly into the hole.
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"Ostaros!" Tarantulas calls in tones of deepest despair. "Wayward child! Why won't you listen to me --"
He stops, shivering hard. Odd little devices appear on the largest crystals, numbers counting down --
"No," Tarantulas hisses, "This is my dream. I don't have to see it again." He coughs, straining. For a moment the dream fragments, splintering off into strange little squared off-colors as if forced through a sieve that's also a prism that's also a window, a set of bars, a computer screen...
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"If you have so much control, what do you need me for?" His question is genuine, but there is a tinge of accusation there.
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He transforms back to bipedal mode with an agonizing grinding of gears. "I do not consider this control," he says archly, voice tight with pain and the kind of anger that waters its roots in confusion. "If I were in control, I wouldn't have to relive the worst day of my five million year long life every time I fall asleep! Lucidity may have given me an escape hatch, but it doesn't make the pain any lesser! Do you have any idea --" He stops himself, breathing hard.
"Please excuse me. I'm not myself, right now..." He glances around at the crystals -- many of them even longer than he is tall, dwarfing Neil West's human body entirely -- and asks, bewildered, "What did we come down here for?"
It seems that he can either steer the dream or he can hold an in-depth and impassioned conversation, but not both.
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The scene begins to blur again. A figure in heavy green armor begins to descend from the lip of the hole, lowering itself down with a thick yet strangely indistinct rope. Not a true memory, then, but rather an invention of Tarantulas's mind: the way he thinks things might have happened, based on what he knows of Springer. Ostaros. Springer...
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"Tell me about Ostaros."
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"My kind...we don't reproduce sexually. We have no sense of parentage, of bonds that transcend generations. New adults simply appear, either out of designated holy sites or secretive government factories...it is a weakness in our society. With no gentle way to pass down social mores, our government relies on force and indoctrination instead...But that's not way I made him."
"I had always thought myself incapable of love...when I met Prowl, I realized otherwise. But I always knew that my feelings exceeded his. I would never be more than second in his eyes...I was shocked by how much it hurt. I wanted to be first in someone's spark...I wanted to occupy the central position in their life. And what role could be more central than that of creator?" He laughs bitterly. "I didn't learn until much later that children always outgrow their parents...Like little stars fated to sail away from the nebula of their birth..."