Obadiah’s Tuesday evening temporal leak
Date: 2025-07-08 20:13
(Obadiah’s Tuesday evening temporal leak)
[Tue Jul 8 2025]
In empty brownstone
It is about 65F(18C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Hawthorn and Blackstone/span>/spanObadiah nods to Arachne and Gabriel as he finishes getting ready for whatever they are going to face.
The late evening air carries an unusual chill as Obadiah, Gabriel, and Arachne stand in the front parlor of the empty brownstone. The half-carved protection glyphs in the hardwood floor seem to pulse faintly in the amber light filtering through the tall windows. A sweet, cloying scent mingles with the honeysuckle from outside – something like expensive perfume and gin.
From somewhere deeper in the house comes the distant sound of music, a jazzy melody that seems to drift up from below. The notes are faint but unmistakable, accompanied by what might be the soft clink of glasses. The temperature in the room drops noticeably, and wisps of what looks like cigarette smoke curl near the cold fireplace despite no visible source.
Gabriel’s breath mists slightly as he exhales. The carved glyphs at their feet flicker, appearing for a moment as if they were complete and freshly cut, before returning to their current unfinished state. Footsteps echo from the floor above – the distinctive click of heeled shoes on hardwood – though the three of them are supposedly alone in the building.
A bottle of clear liquid materializes on the windowsill behind Arachne, its glass catching the dying light before it fades like morning mist when she turns to look.
Arachne feels at home within the empty brownstone, even as the air is saturated with demonic energy, all because of the jazz that plays from deeper in the house. Already, her skin is aglow with warding runes that deflect most oppressive demonic influences, writ in blood along her wrists while she’d been walking in. She carved glyphs are studied for recognition, before she glances upstairs at the footsteps above. Her ring of invisibility is pressed on her fingers, the charm at her hip rendering her footsteps incapable of making sound, and the ring leaves her invisible, the bottle of clear liquid taken up, inspected, as she heads upstairs.
Obadiah looks around the room, taking note of the glass behind Arachne and the smell of the perfume. He doesn’t hate it, he sniffs a couple of times before looking back around. “Ghost?” he wonders to the other two, briefly touching the glass prism at his throat as one would touch a good luck charm. “It has been awhile since I have dealt with a ghost… Is that one of your perfumes, Ma’am?”
Gabriel takes a few steps closer to Arachne and Obadiah, eyes scanning the room around them, looking for things that remain unseen, “At least it’s a good choice of music.” he remarks, clearly underprepared for ghosts with his lack of runes.
shadows that don’t match their sources, sliding along the walls like living things.
The jazz music grows louder, now clearly emanating from beneath their feet. A woman’s laughter, rich and throaty, echoes up through the floorboards. The protection glyphs flicker again, and for a heartbeat the room appears furnished – velvet chairs, crystal decanters, and figures in 1920s evening wear moving through the space like ghosts.
Gabriel suddenly tastes gin and feels the phantom weight of a bow tie around his neck. Obadiah experiences a flash of memory that isn’t his own – hiding bottles behind a false wall as police sirens wail outside.
“I always enjoyed Art Deco,” Obadiah muses as he surveys the room, making note of the chairs, decanters and figures moving about. “Reminds me of the golden age of cinema,” he pauses then as he starts to think about something, memories moving in and out of his mind before squinting at one of the walls, “I think… I think I hid some bottles in there. One time… I don’t remember this place though.”
Arachne’s gaze is drawn toward the shadows that writhe along the walls without a source as the jazz music grows louder, and she, along with Obadiah and Gabriel, are transported to times of the prohibition. She continues to scope out the empty brownstone, studying the glyphs.
Gabriel reaches quickly for his throat, clutching at something that isn’t there as his eyes dart around the room as the shadows begin to move, “Definitely guessing ghosts. I can taste gin.. maybe it’s some kind of old jazz club? Bootleggers or something?” he looks to the other two, seeing what they might be doing to remedy the spectral situation.
“The circle must be completed! They’re coming up the stairs!” The sound of shattering glass echoes from below, followed by a gunshot that seems to reverberate through time itself.
The protection glyphs on the floor pulse brighter, as if responding to some unseen threat.
Obadiah flinches at the gunshot, reaching instinctively for his rune etched dagger that he keeps neatly secured in a sheath under his jacket. He stops though, when he remembers himself and glances at his superior, interested in her thoughts before saying, “I think we probably should finish the circle.”
Arachne ventures up the stairs again, following the path of voices to observe the scene as echoes of time play out. She’s been studying the glyphs the entire time, familiar with the subject matter, while Obadiah speaks. “We could,” she agrees, making no move to stop him. “But what are they seeking protection from? And what would it summon if we completed it?”
Gabriel immediately draws his gun from beneath his shirt, instinct taking over as cold eyes look to the stairs, “I say we finish it. It could be more of a ward and less of a summoning circle, and either way the circle is an if and whatever is coming up the stairs seems like a guarantee.”
“Vivienne! The bulls are here! Finish the ritual!”
The protection glyphs beneath Obadiah and Gabriel’s feet grow warm, their carved lines deepening as if an invisible chisel continues the work. The scent of gin intensifies, mixing with gunpowder and something metallic – blood.
Gabriel feels the phantom weight of suspenders against his shoulders, while Obadiah’s vision blurs momentarily, showing him the room as it was – rich burgundy wallpaper, gas lamps flickering, and a crowd of well-dressed patrons frozen in terror as uniformed figures burst through the front door.
From the basement comes a woman’s voice, cultured but desperate: “The binding isn’t complete! I need more time!”
Obadiah nods in deference to Arachne’s authority on the matter. “Well, those are good questions….” He cuts himself off as his vision transports him to another time and place. “Cops,” he mutters as he looks around, “They are raiding the place. It is a binding circle… Demon binding perhaps? These… these are all echoes of what has happened.”
Arachne remains an outlier in the unfolding events, seemingly able to observe without anything happening to her, while Obadiah and Gabriel are cast to roles in the unfolding memory. Her nose scrunches at the scent of gunpowder mixing with alcohol and blood, her senses nearly overwhelmed by the smell. Her ring and charm are deactivated, returning herself to plain sight, perusing the rest of the house to get a complete understanding of what the circle is meant to do, particularly if it’s supposed to summon something.
Gabriel pats at his chest as he continues to feel phantom clothing clinging to his body, “Something is dressing me and I’m a little nervous to find out what might happen whenever it finishes.” he looks to Obadiah and Arachne and asks, “I have no input on this. You two are the far more knowledgeable ones in this department.”
As Arachne moves through the house, she discovers the basement door standing ajar, revealing stone steps descending into darkness. The jazz music swells from below, now accompanied by chanting in a language that predates English. The air grows thick with temporal energy.
In the basement, carved into the stone foundation, lies a complex ritual circle. Unlike the protection glyphs upstairs, this circle pulses with malevolent energy. At its center, a ghostly figure in a beaded 1920s dress kneels over what appears to be a body – a man in a pinstripe suit with a bullet wound in his chest. Her hands move frantically, trying to complete a binding ritual as spectral police officers storm the room.
“I can make you serve forever, Tommy!” Vivienne’s voice echoes up the stairs. “Death won’t free you from our bargain!”
The protection glyphs upstairs suddenly flare with golden light, responding to the dark magic below. Gabriel feels his phantom bow tie tighten around his throat, while Obadiah’s hand moves involuntarily toward the wall where bottles once hid.
The temperature drops another ten degrees. Outside, the mist thickens.
Obadiah is drawn involuntarily towards the wall, his vision focusing on what might be behind it. It seems he will be of little use in dealing with whatever ‘it’ is, the compulsion to relive history too strong. “It’s here. There is something in this wall. Bottles of Gin? Maybe something more. Maybe if I can just find the latch I can get it open.”
Gabriel’s eyes go wide as the tie tightens, a hand reaching reflexively to his throat despite his lack of need for breath, “The clothes are trying to kill me, need to do something quick before they actually make some progress.” his eyes track Obadiah, “Hit it with the butt of your knife and listen for a hollow sound. Then pry it open.”
Bingo.
When Arachne discovers the source of the malevolent energy seeping out from the basement, she quietly closes the door behind her and descends down to the basement steps, taking in the entirety of the scene. She studies the complex ritual circle at length, then the ghostly figure in a beaded 1920s dress crouched over who she presumes to be Tommy’s still figure. Her mouth purses, and then she’s quickly flicking out a dagger, drawing rivulets of blood from her wrist to summon forth a sleek black marionette shaped like a spiderling girl. “Disrupt the circle, I’ll create somewhere for the energy to go.”
“Obie, Gabriel! Don’t complete that circle upstairs. There’s a demonic ritual circle down here that I’m working on,” she hollers up the stairs, but can they hear her?
Obadiah’s hand finds a hidden panel in the wall, pressing against it as Gabriel suggested. The wood gives way with a soft click, revealing a hollow space behind. Inside, alongside dusty bottles of bootleg gin, sits a leather-bound journal and a small silver amulet that pulses with protective energy.
Gabriel claws at his throat as the phantom bow tie continues to tighten, his breathing becoming labored. The spectral clothing seems determined to force him into the role of a panicked patron from 1928.
In the basement, Arachne’s spiderling marionette skitters toward the ritual circle just as Vivienne’s ghostly form looks up with wild eyes. “Who dares interrupt the binding?” she shrieks. The circle’s energy wavers as the marionette begins to disrupt the carved lines, but Vivienne raises her hands, dark energy crackling between her fingers.
The protection glyphs upstairs pulse frantically, as if sensing the battle below. Tommy’s ghostly form on the basement floor stirs, his eyes opening to reveal hollow sockets filled with malevolent light. The temporal wound widens, and more spectral figures begin materializing throughout the house – police officers, patrons, all frozen in their final moments of terror.
Arachne’s voice echoes up the stairs, but the sound is distorted by the temporal disturbance, reaching the others as an incomprehensible whisper.
Between Arachne’s voice unable to be heard and his new found treasures, Obadiah’s energies are spent examining the journal and the locket. He knows enough about the Occult to know that it is a protection amulet but the journal is a conundrum for puzzler to puzzle out. Carefully he opens it and starts to read, taking note of whatever he finds in there. Maybe the story is detailed?
Gabriel is held in place by the ghostly force of the bow tie, the tightening strand around his throat making it difficult for him to speak even if breathing isn’t much of an issue. With one hand trying to slip between the spectral strands and his throat the other reaches for his knife in an attempt to cut himself free.
A trace of concern shadows Arachne’s eyes when she realizes her voice may be muffled by the distance. She turns back toward the sight before her, letting go of a held breath before reaching to prepare an effigy, reshaping the clay into an amalgam of the image of Viviana, rough but exact enough as she declares it so, then begins to quickly work counter-clockwise to her spiderling, drawing out sigils to rework the ritual, efforting to instead pull all its energy into the effigy.
The journal’s pages flutter open under Obadiah’s touch, revealing entries in elegant script dated October 1928. “The binding grows stronger each night… Tommy’s spirit resists, but I will have my eternal servant… The protection ward upstairs remains incomplete – if the police come, I must finish both rituals simultaneously or risk temporal fracture…”
Gabriel’s knife passes harmlessly through the spectral bow tie, the blade finding no purchase on the ghostly fabric. The phantom clothing continues to materialize – now he feels the weight of a vest, the constriction of formal shoes. His vision blurs, showing him flashes of the speakeasy in full swing before the raid.
In the basement, Vivienne’s form wavers as Arachne’s effigy takes shape. “You think to bind me, child?” she snarls, but her voice grows fainter. The ritual circle’s energy begins flowing into the clay figure, dark tendrils of power spiraling toward Arachne’s working. Tommy’s ghostly form writhes on the floor, caught between Vivienne’s original binding and this new redirection.
The spiderling marionette continues its work, disrupting more of the carved lines. Cracks appear in the stone foundation as the temporal wound destabilizes further. Spectral figures throughout the house begin to fade, their connection to the present weakening.
The protection glyphs upstairs pulse erratically, responding to the chaos below.
“She is trying to make a puppet!” Obadiah shouts to Gabriel and Arachne in the basement below. He continues to read the journal closely, relaying what Arachne has already discovered. “It seems there is a spirit, Tommy. She is trying to bind him to his body and make a meat puppet, revenant, whatever.” His voice lowers as he looks at the protection circle then raises his voice again, “If the police raid this place, the protection spell must be completed at the same time as the binding ritual, but she doesn’t say why! Something about a temporal fracture!”
Gabriel shows the slightest hint of panic behind his icy eyes as the bow tie renders him all but helpless even as Obadiah and Arachne work to solve the issue. More clothes begin to take form on him, slowly transforming him and drawing him deeper into the temporal conundrum as his vision begins to shift and change, leaving his fate up to the others.
Because the temporal magic makes it difficult for her to hear any of Gabriel and Obadiah’s actions, let alone the helpful information the Mercer is shouting down, Arachne does not have time to stop her work in rewriting the ritual around the ghosts trapped inside the ritual, turning its purposes to instead hopefully let Tommy’s spirit be released, all while she continues to siphon off the exorbitant demonic energy into her effigy. It’s tossed to the spiderling, commanding her doll, “Don’t let that go.”
“If the binding fails, only the completed protection ward can contain the temporal breach. The glyphs must be carved with blood and intention, or the past will devour the present.”
The effigy in the spiderling’s grip begins to glow white-hot. Vivienne’s form is almost completely absorbed, but her final words echo through the basement: “Complete the ward! Save them all!”
The house shudders as reality fractures further.
Obadiah panics a moment as he sees Gabriel struggle under the weight of his new found clothes. He looks around then down to his hand and tosses the amulet of protection to Gabriel, “Put this on. I can’t promise it will work, but maybe it will.” He looks around, having lost sight of Arachne as his vision keeps fluctuating in the temporal disturbance. “Arachne!” he shouts, “We have to complete the Circle!”
Gabriel catches the amulet and slips it around his neck, hopefully causing it to free him from his cursed clothing.
Fortunately for her, and the rest of the gang, that Arachne hears Vivienne’s shouted words. She pauses to glance toward her fading corporeal form, and then up at the ceiling as the house shudders. She’s nearly completely rewritten the ritual with her spiderling, marking the final new glyphs meant to steady the temporal magics long enough for the house to remain steady, and for Gabriel and Obadiah to do what they need to do upstairs.
The silver amulet flares with protective light as it touches Gabriel’s throat. The phantom bow tie dissolves instantly, and the spectral clothing falls away like morning mist. He gasps, free from the temporal compulsion.
In the basement, Arachne’s rewritten ritual takes hold. The effigy blazes with contained energy as Tommy’s spirit finally breaks free from Vivienne’s binding, his form dissolving into peaceful light. The spiderling clutches the glowing clay figure as the last of the malevolent energy is absorbed.
Upstairs, the protection glyphs pulse urgently. Obadiah realizes what must be done – the circle needs blood and intention to complete. The house groans around them as the temporal fracture reaches its breaking point.
Gabriel, now freed from the ghostly influence, can think clearly again. The carved lines in the floor await completion, and time is running out. Through the windows, the mist outside begins to swirl in unnatural patterns, reality itself straining at the edges.
The jazz music fades to silence. In the sudden quiet, they can hear the house settling – or perhaps collapsing inward on itself.
“Oh thank fuck.” Gabriel gasps out as the clothing dissipates, then quickly he jumps into action, drawing his blade across the palm of his hand deep enough to produce some blood. “Use this, complete the glyphs.” he says with the bleeding hand outstretched toward Obadiah.
“Shut up wolves,” Obadiah shouts out the door at the incessent howling. “I fucking hate the full moon it is so fucking distracting. Can’t a fae just enjoy one quiet evening without the god damned puppies….”
He takes a breath and calms himself and takes out his rune covered dirk and draws a line across his own palm, much like Gabriel, “Drip it in the circle. We might need both of them and I don’t want to take chances. We need to get this done now.”
Arachne continues her work downstairs, writing in new glyphs to stabilize the temporal magics with her best attempts to ward the building, pushing herself to her limits while Obadiah and Gabriel work above her, separated only by a single floor.
Gabriel and Obadiah’s blood drips into the carved grooves, and the protection glyphs blaze with golden light. The lines complete themselves with supernatural speed, forming an intricate ward that pulses with protective energy.
In the basement, Arachne’s final stabilizing glyphs lock into place just as the effigy in her spiderling’s grasp crumbles to ash. The temporal wound seals with an audible snap, like reality itself exhaling in relief.
The house stops shuddering. The temperature returns to normal. The phantom scents of gin and perfume fade, replaced only by the sweet honeysuckle drifting through the windows.
Silence settles over the brownstone – a peaceful quiet, free from spectral jazz and ghostly footsteps. The protection ward glows softly in the floor, now permanently etched and empowered. Through the windows, the unnatural mist dissipates, revealing the normal evening streets of Fairefield.
Arachne emerges from the basement, her spiderling marionette dissolving back into shadow. The three stand in the now-quiet parlor, the crisis averted. The brownstone is finally at peace, its temporal wound healed and its ghosts laid to rest.
The scenario is complete. Vivienne Blackthorne’s failed binding ritual has been undone, Tommy’s spirit freed, and the protection ward completed at last.