02-05-2023, 04:23 AM
Marcus ignored Ryker's bravado. It didn't really matter if it was feigned or not. At least not for the moment. Something else was going on, something more important.
Deaths at the prison weren't, strictly speaking, unknown. Instead it was the guard's reaction- his refusal to say more of what was going on- that confirmed the feeling of danger. The man was not green. He'd seen- and partaken- in many of the darker activities of this place.
The projection in the back of his mind resolved itself. Whatever was happening was not the normal run of the mill by product of this prison.
Marcus added Ryker's words- the information they contained- to his consideration, but other than then quested with the Force.
It was one of the more interesting discoveries he'd made over the last year. Of all the varieties of the Force, spirit was the most malleable and mimetic. It seemed to take on the characteristics of what it touched, somehow absorbing information into the vibration of its threads. It was how he'd learned to attune spirit weaves to specific people, for example. Or how he'd been able to use it to embed the tau vector into the matrix to encode weaves.
It was his first tool to examine anything he didn't know and wanted to understand, and so he spun a network of spirit outward in such a way so as to make them open, an information web sensitive to the slightest vibration of anything- any form of matter or energy, with him attuned at the center.
He could "taste" the room- not literally, of course. But the avalanche of data pouring him was interpreted as physical sensation, a synethsesia of sorts- and stifled the bile the burned at his throat. The echoes of past emotion in this room were not pleasant.
But he did catch a faint whiff of...rot, was the word he finally set on. It seemed to permeate the air of the place, a background noise more than anything else. It might have been something he could ignore, except there was a slight sharpness to it. A tang that felt potent.
He stood, the web firmly held. His voice was cold. To the guard, "Take us to where the last death occurred.". The man opened his mouth but the protest died on his lips and he nodded.
Marcus motioned for the man to lead and Ryker to follow. They began walking down corridors and rooms, his web billowing around him and noting no changes, until they reached a stairwell. The lights were covered with metal wire and were dim or flickering as they made their way down, darkness and shadow above and below them.
Just as they started down the stairs Marcus ordered them to stop. "What is it-" The guard said cautiously before Marcus' hiss cut him off. He was silent as he felt at those threads, the ones vanishing off down into the darkness. The rot was there, but the sharpness was stronger. It was more pungent.
Marcus pushed to the front and looked down the center, seeing the stairs beneath them only dimly, even with the Force enhancement. There was a flicker of movement in the shadows below- the rot sharp like the smell of putrid aged pus- and his nostrils flaired.
It was nothing alive. Living people stood out in this web. But it was there all the same. His jaw set. He looked at Ryker and the guard. "Come with me." and then he started down, trying to feel was was down there.
Deaths at the prison weren't, strictly speaking, unknown. Instead it was the guard's reaction- his refusal to say more of what was going on- that confirmed the feeling of danger. The man was not green. He'd seen- and partaken- in many of the darker activities of this place.
The projection in the back of his mind resolved itself. Whatever was happening was not the normal run of the mill by product of this prison.
Marcus added Ryker's words- the information they contained- to his consideration, but other than then quested with the Force.
It was one of the more interesting discoveries he'd made over the last year. Of all the varieties of the Force, spirit was the most malleable and mimetic. It seemed to take on the characteristics of what it touched, somehow absorbing information into the vibration of its threads. It was how he'd learned to attune spirit weaves to specific people, for example. Or how he'd been able to use it to embed the tau vector into the matrix to encode weaves.
It was his first tool to examine anything he didn't know and wanted to understand, and so he spun a network of spirit outward in such a way so as to make them open, an information web sensitive to the slightest vibration of anything- any form of matter or energy, with him attuned at the center.
He could "taste" the room- not literally, of course. But the avalanche of data pouring him was interpreted as physical sensation, a synethsesia of sorts- and stifled the bile the burned at his throat. The echoes of past emotion in this room were not pleasant.
But he did catch a faint whiff of...rot, was the word he finally set on. It seemed to permeate the air of the place, a background noise more than anything else. It might have been something he could ignore, except there was a slight sharpness to it. A tang that felt potent.
He stood, the web firmly held. His voice was cold. To the guard, "Take us to where the last death occurred.". The man opened his mouth but the protest died on his lips and he nodded.
Marcus motioned for the man to lead and Ryker to follow. They began walking down corridors and rooms, his web billowing around him and noting no changes, until they reached a stairwell. The lights were covered with metal wire and were dim or flickering as they made their way down, darkness and shadow above and below them.
Just as they started down the stairs Marcus ordered them to stop. "What is it-" The guard said cautiously before Marcus' hiss cut him off. He was silent as he felt at those threads, the ones vanishing off down into the darkness. The rot was there, but the sharpness was stronger. It was more pungent.
Marcus pushed to the front and looked down the center, seeing the stairs beneath them only dimly, even with the Force enhancement. There was a flicker of movement in the shadows below- the rot sharp like the smell of putrid aged pus- and his nostrils flaired.
It was nothing alive. Living people stood out in this web. But it was there all the same. His jaw set. He looked at Ryker and the guard. "Come with me." and then he started down, trying to feel was was down there.