From: intraphase@gmail.com

Harris had acquired the disk in the fourth epoch and Gretchen had returned it
to him. But she would never explain how it was done. His research using Library
City and two failed vaults that were stolen by Augustus brought him to his final conclusion
that Gretchen knew the calling code and she did not trust him with it. Still ten miles below ground The Vulture makes up his mind to stop at The Wheel rooms; as he glides to a stop the disk remains hovering stationary showing no outward signs of distress.
“Allow me five minutes grace to activate the towers defenses.”
The disk wobbles softly: projects a stop watch above itself. Vulchario nods and the clock starts.
Ivan knows subterfuge and pretending to manually open the automated system would draw a response from the disk. The Wheelhouse is a pristine sterile chamber of gauges and levers used to reduce pressure in the distillery when it is overloaded with new
arrivals. The toxic volatile mixture of the pure light forming The Dark and The
Clear, tangled in broken strings forms his first volley The Great Shadow. At the control panel he presses five dozen thick fat concave buttons opening every
venting system
across the width and breadth of the nine miles of granite and six miles of reinforced metallic grid works. The Shadow is the final distilling level before
The Presence and The Essence separates. Vulchario normally loads it into glass pellets and rods
weaponizing it as an extension of his will at a distance.
DATAFACE awaits his commands in a higher labyrinth, a billion pellets strong.
Vulchario spins the six small brass wheels on the control panel from one hundred to zero. Another swaying shudder ripples from the deepest roots to the tallest skyscraper
roofs, as the trembling earthquake of pressure is released, from the six main eighteen mile long vertical vats below the humungous tangled graveyard of abandoned gates: still receiving and pulverizing thousands of unwary living passengers per day.
Disk-2 transmits the sound of an egg timer expiring and The Vulture turns without any fanfare returning to the carriage and throwing the break levers wide open allowing the lifting platform to soar aloft. Passing the mushy section of this epochs crop
destroyed by The Alliant’s untoward and highly over reactive response to Grigori’s playfulness Dr. Vulchario sees a confused mass of impressions, an old rubbish-heap of damned beings drowning in bodily excreta behind the thick diamond wall
prophylaxis; clusters of eternal light hang here and there like ripe fruit in star trees.
He wonders, “Why not fight a fair fight? Why is The Code, the very rules, a part of The Game?”
The Vulture 360 are manning their commands posts inside and outside the tower. Each of the four main armies is positioned thirty miles from the base awaiting orders. The western army turns northward and the southern army is turned eastward anticipating
the arrival of orders to consolidate to face an invasion from the east. The tanks and self-propelled guns are already in motion, the main fighting force of
infantry divisions marching briskly. The V360 commanders have seen the arrival of The White Beast
and Dr. Vulchario’s response as the dark snaking rivers of The Shadow; form bracken agitated pools and ponds of bubbling dark mist; that shall soon be a swampy thick mote, of rarified death inducing insanity, encircling the Tower Of
Absolute.
The dark mist is gathering throughout Clocktown and Library City only held at
bay on a small section of Mulberry Street by the felt, but not seen presence; of The Owl’s ten thousand delta winged essence ships, concealed one lightmach
higher.
Mr. Eight and ATM briefly depart from Rya Talon and Drorgo returning momentarily with the seven gate array and all four Body Fortress. Mr. Eight lays the gates to pierce an attack point equidistant behind the enemy lines: at
fifteen miles distance from
the towers base and fifteen miles from the northern V360 Army. The seven powerful bridging gates placed he commands one half of his Essence Ships, five thousand strong, from the failed core to form a amply wide crescent shaped exit
zone at gate seven for
the Talonians and Drorgot main bodies. The eight hundred foot wide, self-standing, self-righting salvaged gates from the reflecting pond and the Deepwater Lake begin moving hundreds of thousands of battle ready troops per minute with swift racing pipes
of mechanized artillery flourishing through on each side of the troops running into gate one and exiting gate seven three seconds later. Inside the passageway
thick blue and red lines circulate forwards and curl down returning to gate one: as a thin
tolerable fog floats freely.
The great zeppelins floating at a twenty mile height are motoring into position to fire on the gates. Mr. Eight stops at the small airborne armada of aerial bombardment platforms on his return leap to the Crystal Skull. Seizing control of the 2085
battle functions he speaks to the pilots and crews using an armor piercing voice capable of shattering their ear drums or skulls depending on the degree of amplitude applied. “Do Not Fire,” the deep, internally perceived, mechanical voice; is more
convincing than frightening at the normal relay troop command levels. Eight and
ATM are seen by the pilots instantly appearing back at the Diamond Dome holding
aloft the ten eight hundred feet rings of the second bridging array deployment.
Watching the
enemy detect another deep penetration forming equilateral triangle halfway between the eastern and southern army and the tower; with only fifteen miles to
cover to attack in either direction.
The zeppelins continue to adjust their aiming positions but have not fired. Mr. Eight deploys the other half of his essence ships from the failed core; five thousand small black delta winged triangles inside their battle rings to defend against The
Shadow. Their prodigious capacity for absorbing, penetrating and processing, the mixtures of dark light moving slowly outward towards the landing zone; is a
sturdy defense for the incoming assaulting waves.
Michele hearing a command broadcast over the 2085 battle communication systems switches to text to avoid distraction. Messaging Mr. Eight she request the S.X. Archer be moved to a fifteen mile height above the tower for battle reconnaissance. Looking
up she sees the black hull appear miles above, small at that distance. Switching her viewport to the S.X. Signet momentarily; she looks toward the five mile square Staging Area-A, where a shimmering sea of primary colors flutters continuously, as the
AR20 Special Forces suit up, strapping into their flight harnesses; to charge the EMV horns and wired crystalline rods for attack flight formation through the gates.
The two Body Fortresses commanded by Azrok Steppe and Aloysius guard either side of the wide crescent shaped exit zone at gate seven’s northeastern assembly field where Rya Talon and Drorgo are massing their troops. The delta winged essence ships are
already drawing in the faint tendrils and tiny wisps of the early approaching creeping death of The Shadow.
The two Body Fortress commanded by Artrex and The Old Chief guard either side
of the wide crescent shaped exit zone at gate ten’s southeast landing area. The delta winged essence ships are in position; The Shadow’s earliest edge still five miles
out closing. RN6 requests permission to test the bridging array. Mr. Eight and ATM relay a go signal for the five thousand fast attack one and two seat Aeromyds to move to the attack zone. The long sleek horizontal pyramids pass through the blue and red
striped five thousand mile abridgement in under a second; awaiting instructions
as they clear gate ten.
Michelle summons a 2085 display table attached to the S.X. Archer overhead, and assigns three thousand ships to each incoming gate’s outlet to reinforce the invaders. Drawing flight patterns on the main thoroughfares of Library City, for ten groups
of three hundred to patrol, she releases all but one thousand ships into battle, retaining one thousand on the Mulberry Street; half at a stationary defense posture, and half circulating in a spherical perimeter around The Swain
to detect and eliminate
intruding tentacles of The Shadow; as it mindlessly swarms into every nook and crevice of The Tower of Absolute. Michele places a tracking label designating the clear light presence from Misty Hob as TM360 in the 2085 mapping configuration. She can see
it is well hidden, dispersed in the trees, meadows and rooftops; surrounding the open compass entrance, ready to attack, at the border between Parkland and Library city; where the disk seekers are now temporarily holed up, in the old Bell Tower Station.
She draws several flight paths around it.
Dr. Vulchario lights a cigar. The massive ornamental lifting platform passes through the final mile of the machinery used to disable and summon travel gates
into the metallic flesh grinding Tower Of Absolute. He looks at Disk-2 without longing
recognizing in its compact fountainhead of creation, a true equal, a fellow traveler. Yet, like he had a weakness for human companionship it too has a weakness for its original identity. The Vulture is pleased to see the disk does
not run off in some
helter skelter, higgledy-piggledy, dishonorable frightened way; but instead proceeds with honor, dignity and solemnity; to its next appointment. Though, he
knows in his heart he would bind the disk by name if he knew the answer to that
enigma of a
perplexing riddle.
Trusting his palatial viewing chamber’s mechanical and creature comforts he
steps towards the front gate as it slows to a crawl to deposit them in Clocktown. With this small half dollar sized tool of near infinite power he had
destroyed The Construct,
destroyed its replacement and then convincingly thwarted seven attempts to rebuild. This disk, whatever mysteries it concealed was designed to be a paradox: a weakness among strengths, a strength among weaknesses. Like his beloved Library City and Tower
Of Absolute it was designed to be a challenger, an innovator, a genuine original; remote in character, reveling in danger, yet schooled in self-restraint and most
scrupulous in conduct. Oh, but once it was set in motion, it was magnificently skilled, in a rich variety of controversies and antithetical constructions: yet
always sound in the execution of its basic theory, of creations ordering; but somehow remaining
rooted, in a prejudice towards the human form, above all other forms. A perfect
being with a single flaw. A love of humanity.
Dr. Vulchario basking in the glow of remembrance and the luxurious taste of his cigar is ready to say goodbye. Swinging the balanced brass gate wide in a sweeping motion he points towards the open mail slot at the end of the hall: “Fare thee well, my
faithful companion, fare thee well.”
Moses and Maurice request permission to load and raise the twenty-eight passenger troop transport Aeromyds with RN6 shock troops. Mr. Eight and ATM send a “Go Ready” response to the request over the 2085 system. RN6 battle command is transferred to
Mr. Eight. He relays a final briefing, “RN6 must own the top of the tower to a ten foot level and AR20 from ten feet to The Vultures highest platform. Wave one in, wave two in and we secure the ground and air.”
The troop transports are divided into twenty groups, of one thousand; carrying
twenty-eight thousand parachute and rope dropped, fast attacking ground phalanxes. The shock troops are armor plated and helmeted; with fully automatic
vortex firing assault
weapons, and a variety of hand thrown, light clearing weapons, to combat the white, black and clear light based threats.
The forty million EMV attack units switch to 2085 autopilot and rise up into wide solid block formations of ten million units allowing room for the Aeromyds
to pass underneath. The RN6
transfer to autopilot and all ten wedges of one thousand ships slowly circle behind the blue and black walls of AR20 EMVspecial forces. The second wave of forty million AR20 assault fighters begin staging on the just opened ground, climbing into their
harnesses and switching on their avionic controllers and flight sensors. The second four blocks of ten million are quickly airborne.
Mr. Eight and ATM are standing at the halfway marker between the failed zero and the tower.
They resize to twenty miles in height; to be visible to allies and enemies alike, without a shot yet being fired. The Overlord presumes V36 are waiting in
case Dr. Vulchario decides to take direct command of his generals and their waiting armies. The
Shadow is thick and dense at five miles distance in all directions from the towers base. It is roiling and convulsing as waves rise from atop waves filling
up the air to a hundred feet above the parched sandy barren ground.
The Talonians and Drorgots announce the twenty million man mark for arriving troop strength.
Disk-2 exits through the mail slot leaving Dr. Vulchario’s main entrance to
the Crystal Spring thirty miles below. Stopping in the small yard with the brass post, holding the weathered sextant emblem, below the six sided hurricane
lantern: the disk
takes advantage of both Library City and the S.X. Archer’s presence high above; tapping into their sensory apparatus and computation processes. Passing along Seabury Lane, by the small yards and courtyards populated by a forest of essence filled sun
dials, of every shape and size; the small microcosmic core ship’s computer crosses onto an annex lane; running between the north to south pathways of boulevards one through five. Safely passing over the gathering of The Shadow, it follows Boulevard One
to Northern Avenue, crossing into Parkland, hovering five feet from the open compass, and wide blue steel stairway leading to Bell Tower Station.

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* Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)