#odyssey

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The Jeep's engine is in good repair, but it still a moderately loud vehicle, so it might be difficult for Symon to be heard if he has anything to say. Brekke may raise a brow at Zane's music selections but does not comment unless they become truly irritating. "Do either of you have contacts in Hackensack?"

Zane is happy to repeat whatever the sluagh might whisper in his ear, but speaking for himself, "Not me, but one of my dad's former students lives there then she got body jacked by a sidhe. he rolled with it well enough though it was some time ago"

Symon just shakes his head.

"Hm. Well...try to make some contacts today. As non-trolls, you are not the targets of...whatever this is. That may prove valuable."

The trip takes about half an hour.

Brekke is silent, thoughtful, for much of the trip, so unless Zane tries to make conversation....

Indeed, soon they've lost sight of the gentle wooded areas of their home barony entirely .. losing some of it's near dreaming affects.. before a new vision comes into play, a smell of odd rust without iron, and docks and steam. Hackensack has been in dougal hands for a long time.

The effect seems almost New England gothic steam punk in parts

She has been here before, though it has been some time. She navigates to where she remembers the baron's hold to be.

To mortal eyes, the New Jersey Naval Museum is condemned and closed... but changelings and enchanted can easily see the true walkway to the side to lead them in.

Zane looks at Symon then the Chief"Should we split off now, before you get formal?"

"Hm." She considers a moment, then nods. "That may be wise. I will contact you when I am done. Contact me if there is trouble." She may despise her cell phone, but she knows when it is a useful tool.

He nods and slides out of the jeep. "Naval museum, huh?"

"Yeah.. I came here when I was younger once " Zane says

She makes sure the Jeep is secured. "Be cautious and clever," she advises them.

"Good luck, Chief" Zane says

A nod, and she advances towards the entrance of the decommissioned naval museum.

Once The Chief has gone... Elsewhere... Zane looks at Symon "Split to cover more groundn, or use me as the decoy while you hide in the shadows to see what I stir up?"

"Let's head in together. If I see another slug, I'll split off to talk to them."

"And if I see another sluagh, I'll know they're not good at slaughing" He smiles

"Unless they wanted to be seen."

"Fair point .. chief took the main entry, should we try the side fringes or wait a while and follow?"

"Yeah, let's see if there's another way in. Museums generally have a few exits..."

And they look around

Symon has his hands in his pocket, and sidles nonchalantly.

Symon sees a chimney, or smoke stack that is not currently smoking. He could slide down that even without squriming. Zane maybe too.

Or... there's a a side door, but has a golem looking thing. More steam punk golem than D&D golem

Glance back to Zane, and he whispers, "You want to take the direct route? I can slide in."

"I'll chat up the machine.. " He nods "take the stack if you want"

A nod, that's what he had intended. Slipping over to the side of the building, he starts heading for the stack.

He's glad he brought his inhaler, this could take a bit to climb

A sigh, and he slips off his shoes, tucking them into a packpack, and starts slowly up.

And up he goes, slowly, carefully, cautiously. And to the stack then he slithers in

And notices he has company..

a small spider

He examines it a moment, curiously. Venomous?

Chimerical?

Physical.. but there's a glamour about it , it's Black Lace-Weaver he thinks

He whispers over to it as he slides down the stack, controlling his motion carefully with application of sticky fingers and toes. "Hey there. You look like an Amaurobius ferox. They say that your underbelly has markings that look like a skull. Pleased to meet you, that is, if you're not on the hunt for me."

She skitters back, as if more scared of him than the other way around, then it approaches him cautiously. No sign of aggression

"Not sure if you can understand me." He whispers, still slowly making his way down. Haste may make him slip and who knows what is at the bottom of this stack? "But if you know sluagh, then you should recognize a friend to spiders." Symon delicately taps on the side of the stack with one fingertip.
tip tip tap tip... tip tap tip.. tip tip, tip, tap tip, tap tip tip. F...r...i...e...n..d. It's slow...

the spider listens then ..taps Why are you here?

Short and sweet is the key with the laborious tapping. ...seeking intel. To protect home.

We are all just prisoners here, of our own device. tappingg The beatles sang that. They ought to know

His phone vibrates.

He ignores it for the time being, contemplating the spider. It could clearly climb out if it desired.
Tap tap.. ...show me?

A smile spreads, thin but proud. "I knew it." He looks down the shaft, and back up, pondering whether to proceed. "Do you have a name, little singer?" He whispers. If the spider can comprehend his speech at least, it will save some time.