Nobilis: "Chopping Down the Judas Tree"

[Dacia Brabant]

Nobilis, Part the First: "Chopping Down the Judas Tree"

Prelude: Aleph Beth

(Hollyhock God’s Note: The real thoughts of Imperators, even those of the Light and the Dark whose natures are intrinsic to humanity, are difficult for mortals to comprehend, doubly so for twin-minded Regi like "Beth" Atra-Hasis and "Aleph" Enuma Elis who before the Fall of Eden are believed to have been a single divine being. As such, the following excerpt should be taken with an imperial-sized grain of salt.)

---

We are no stranger to scandal, even amongst kindred of the Causa Causans who we are aware regard our Being as... uniquely strange, but this is different. This is beyond scandal, this is the heart of the Valde Bellum! Our loyalty to The Cause is unquestioned throughout the ages of Heaven and Earth, can anyone now assail it? So it would seem....

Six great Powers, six little flowers, all plucked before their petals fell and by no gardener’s hand. Were they to belong to any other garden their loss would be unfortunate, and singularly to us they are no more than small tragedies. But six, in one long, cruel, criminal cut? Are our eyes so blinded by the Light, our minds so dimmed by Darkness, that we cannot find the traitor in our midst? Even our oldest, greatest, most terrible friend has his doubts, for why else would he defy and defile our Holy Places with his presence?

Too many answers to too few questions, too much at stake but too little time--oh that deadliest weapon of all--to trim down the possibilities ourselves. These newest blossoms must not fail us.

Scene 1: Locus Tempestad

OOC Background Info:
This story begins less than a week after the death of Masaharu Iga, the previous Dominus of Weapons, found impaled on his prized okatana in Hiroshima. Nothing too out of the ordinary except it was the sixth suspicious death in a row of a Noble representing each Estate of the twin Ymerae, Atra-Hasis and Enuma Elis, all within the span of six weeks.

At least one Excrucian is known to be involved, an Abhorrent Weapon-wielding Warmain calling herself Jessaillie Tel-harumaph when she attacks the conjoined Chancels in coordination with each Noble's murder. Furthermore, a traitor to the Valde Bellum, a former Power of Sleep, was directly involved in one of the murders and put to the Locust Court, though suspicions run high that more betrayers are involved.

As new Powers, you've had just enough time to get to know your abilities, get acquainted with your immediate and extended familia, make a few Anchors and start to make yourselves at home. But the fact that you're inhabiting two of the biggest targets of Excrucians (and occasional discontented Nobles) in Locus Tempestad, the leading manufacturer and dealer of arms for the Valde Bellum, and Locus Aleph, the hall of records for Ash-Tree Earth's ruling Council of Four, which are currently in the midst of a crisis means you probably shouldn't get too comfortable. A fact your Regius, through the mouth of an angry Mz. McAllister, Aleph's head archivist, or the crazed ramblings of Fleet Admiral Nikola Tesla of the Tempestad, has not hesitated to drill into you.

This morning they summoned you to the gate between Chancels to receive two distinguished guests: Joktan Scorn's-Regal, and Baalhermon Destruction's-Regal, the Herald and the Hammer of your closest allied Imperator and Chancel, Entropy the Darkest Lord and true ruler of Earth.


For a brief moment the perpetual storm of Locus Tempestad stood silent as two men--no, only one a man in any sense of the word, the other a titantic beast like a dragon in the form of a man--boarded the deck of the H.M.S. Invincible, a conversion of that famous battleship of yore into a wind-powered airship. It was not the Chancel's flagship but it often served as a neutral meetingplace since it guarded the gate to Locus Aleph. Today it was attended by all six Powers of the twin Chancels, the two aforementioned guests, and no one else, not even a gull or an air spirit to disturb them.

"Hail, Nobility of the Dark Lord Atra-Hasis! Hail, Powers of the Lightlord Enuma Elis! Your friends in Lord Entropy greet you and give thanks for your hospitality!" cheers the former, a dusky, clean-shaven man in an immaculate black suit, and it's obvious despite his smiling eyes and toothy grin that he doesn't mean a word of it--or that he means it in the most condescending way possible. This is the first time you've met him but you know he must be Joktan. The other, the dragon-man, can only be Baalhermon but unlike his brother nothing comes out of his mouth except a constant billowing of smoke.

"Sadly we have not come all this way simply to meet the new Nobles of our Lord's esteemed allies in the Valde Bellum, but to deliver his tidings. You are to be made temporary Inquisitors in this dark time! It is a high honor, you should feel privileged."

He pauses, and the storm returns as if it had never left. You may speak.

[Zweanslord]

"Inquisitors.." Martin White tasted the word in his mouth, letting it roll over in suspicion as he knew the source it came from. A man whose condescending speech had caused a frown on Martin White's face. Standing straight, his long and extended, dark and feathery, wings ruffled. His mind done examining the word, Martin White returned from the thoughts that had been soaring through his cloudy mind.

"In any case, I bid you welcome, Joktan." Another moment of soaring, before he added: "Esteemed Joktan." Probably wiser to add that, considering that he came from Locus Entropy. "I am honoured with the task bestowed upon us, but if I might know.. what does it exactly mean? I assume we are not meant to hunt witches in Spain? Though at least we would have the advantage that nobody would expect us." Because nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. Well, probably not a joke that was wise making either, but it was so tempting and Martin had given in to the temptation to allude to it.

The large wings sprouting from his regal and straight figure ruffled again as movement seemed inevitable with the storm's breeze flowing across the deck of the H.M.S. Invincible. Letting his sky blue eyes move over both guests, his gaze was still attracted more to the large man. Almost waiting as if the titanic figure of a man would sprout draconic wings any minute now.

[DeafnotDumb]

The air crackles with thunder and brings along the sent of oil and ozone and metal - all the things needed to run a marvel such as this ship. He could feel the yearning for travel in the rough wood beneath his feet, the desire to travel sky and sea and to new horizons past her mooring. Solomon smiled. He liked ships. They were always so impatient.

On his shoulder, a magpie cawed, uneasy in the icy wind. Without turning his head he reached out a hand and brushed her along the wing, speaking softly. "Hush, girl. Quiet now."

There's the restless sound of wings to his left, the constant nervous fluttering of the man beside him - some flyboy, he'd heard. He could hear a hissing sound like steam from an old automobile from one of the visitors, and the drag of a weapon from one of the unknown Powers here, Simon's stance close to him, but nothing from Elizabeth. Strange girl, that, so silent in this storm. Or perhaps the wind was just whipping the sounds away.

The scornful voice spoke, it's words an unpleasant grate across Solomon's ears: he sighed and mentally reached for Jean, taking the chance to see the world through her eyes. A magpie's vision was different from a human's, built to focus on baubles and prey, glittering things or small sharp movements in the cornfield. He had to take her gaze away from the polished steel of the ship before he could take a look at the sight assembled before him. My, oh my. Such a motley group. People always sounded better than they looked. Your eyes may deceive you, but their voices wouldn't.

The storm had started up again and the winged man had finished speaking: Solomon considered his position and gave Jean a last reassuring pat before leaving her mind to herself. Let her enjoy looking at some pretty baubles. "Well, este-emed sirs, I second the flyboy's motion. While I don't doubt we're doing God's work, I'd like to know about precisely what this work is. an' who we'd be working with. I'll be taking it the six of us will be doing this honor together?" Jean had been a woman who knew about honor. Nice girl, too. Lookin' just like she sounded, as should be.

Been a real shame.

[Yuki Akuma]

Death's-Regal stood in between the two other members of her Familia, watching their two guests approach with a perfectly impassive expression. The only display of anything resembling emotion was a slow, gentle finger scratching the head of the small cat that rested in her arms. The cat purred lightly, its eyes closed.

Beneath the impassive surface, however, lay a maelstrom thoughts and emotions. A dozen voices spoke all at once in her head, making it difficult for her to hear herself think. She could hear Scorn's-Regal as clear as day, however. A part of her knew that his scornful tone was simply an expression of his Estate, but that didn't make it any less grating.

The smallest Power suddenly looked up Martin White. "...Monty Python's Flying Circus. Really...?"

[Zweanslord]

Martin sighed as he heard Solomon's comment and turned towards the sound, his wings gently moving along. Raising a finger in the air, he leaned towards Solomon as he said: "Hey, the flyboy has a name, it's Martin White.. you.. know." His last words were getting lost in the broiling storm as he saw that the man he was talking towards was blind. Respect the handicapped and those older than you. Solomon certainly looked sufficiently older, in any case.

There was another reason his attention was faltering. Quickly dropping the finger as he heard the girl's comment and smoothly dropping his arm as he noticed she was looking at him with that question mark still lingering in the air, he coughed a bit. When me made eye contact with her, he quickly broke it a moment after. "Yes, well.. erhm." He muttered, a bit embarrassed. "Really." He said earnestly, scratching his head a bit as he folded his wings behind him, causing the necessary ruffling of feathers again. "It's a fun show, no?" He said, to nobody in particular.

[DeafnotDumb]

Solomon's face brightened at the sound of new gossip. "My, I never took you for a circus-going girl, Elizabeth. It's not a wonder Martin here knows of a flying one, an aviator boy like him. Good show, you say?" His cane wandered along the deck of the ship as his mind sits back and enjoys the thundery atmosphere. The old man seemed quite happy to simply talk, especially if he could do so while on a flying airship in the middle of a thunderstorm several thousand feet above ground level. He'd pulled up a crate from the side of the ship, the one marked 'Fragile - Do Not Touch', and was slouching on it to the best of his ability, sitting happy as a cat on a warm day..

Beside his ear, Jean cawed nervously, causing him to wince. "Hush, Jean. You'd deafen me. That storm be'll dying down soon. Least it will be, if the mademoiselle of storms could spare me a favor? My bird's working herself into a right fit at this rate."

[Cryptico]

The winds broke against his face, his form still like a mighty like a statue, eyes closed in meditation. He had run the scenario of the past few days in his head a thousand times. The new reality that had been hidden from him seemed so vast and endless, yet he could still comprehend it. It didn't seemed strange at all or as alien as part of him told him it should feel.

The sword in his back chained to him weighted him terribly, he could barely remember it's forging the first few days were hazy. He knew however that this was a horrifyingly unnatural sword, yet in a way he knew the terrible aura of it meant terrifying power at his command. After all he now watched over the Arms of the world, all of them were his Estate to guard and protect and even thought he didn't command them he knew that they would serve him if he asked for it. He continued immersed deep in meditation. Paying only cursory attention to the man who condescendingly addressed them. Thinking maybe he shouldn't pay attention at all, but duty called and he should serve faithfully.

As he contemplated the depth, life and emotion in the sound of the winds hitting the cannons of the floating Warship as it rode the storm an exchange forced him to open his eyes almost breaking into laughter. He surveyed the area, he saw his new brother in arms, Martin the Dominus of Flight, his sister Elizabeth the Lady of Storm seemed distant as if not present, he knew almost nothing of her. Right by them where the allied powers of Locus Aleph. The smallest one had just made a deadpan snark at his brother.

Smiling warmly he addressed Death's Regal the small figure with a cold expression in her face.

"hehe, I have to say cousin I thought the comment was indeed amusing "

Feeling the eyes on his back he turned to the man in black and continued to smile.

"I apologize for my distant behavior, it is interesting tidings your... esteemed company brings"

Making sure to put emphasis on the word "esteemed" and let them come into any conclusion they pleased by this act. He certainly disliked the behavior these two had shown towards his new family yet he was fully aware etiquette demanded civility.

And so the Dominus of Weapons finally exclaimed:

"Allow me to introduce myself"

Placing his right hand on his heart and nodding slightly

" I am the Dominus of Arms, Citizen of Locus Tempestad, Servant of Atra-Hasis, Ally of the Honored Enuma-Elis and His Powers, Friend of Locus Aleph, I am Cha...lybs, Cale Chalybs"

Pronouncing his name felt strange for a moment it seemed as if it he had to find it in his memories, unsure if that was truly it. Becoming a power was indeed a strange and changing process. He decided to pay no mind to it. And ask:

"Would our esteemed guests like to come in to the dinning room for coffee, tea or a preferred drink and perhaps some small appetizers in order to further discuss what this new honor and responsibility would entail?

[Dacia Brabant]

Joktan took this time to study each of the Nobles with careful, searching eyes, not batting them or even so much as letting a corner of his mouth droop as they went about their funny business, or tried as they could to welcome such unwelcomable guests. His brother was not quite so composed.

Baalhermon suddenly swallowed the fumes that had been rising from his grotesquely fanged maw after Solomon's statement about "doing God's work," and in its place a low, deep grumble emitted from the hideous man. For an uncomfortably long moment it looked like he might choke on whatever it is he's smoking, when with the sudden force of a volcanic eruption Destruction's-Regal laughed so loudly one would have trouble distinguishing it from the surrounding storm. Monstrous, fiery, destructive laughter full of so much scorn that his brother shot him a stern look for stealing his thunder.

"God's work!" Baalhermon bellowed. "Bugger the Creator if there e'er was one! We're doin' the Four's work, and that's Entr'py's work! God? Bah! Sod God, sod'im with-"

"Tut tut brother," Joktan interrupted, his empty smile firmly back in place. Apparently even his familia was not spared his disdain. "Our Lord is as close to being God--in the sense young Solomon means--as this miserable world knows. So, respect." Respect, a strange word to fall from the cruel lips of Scorn, but it's possible from his inflection that he might actually mean it, and even if he didn't the howling winds did not dare to challenge him. In fact, the air scorned to share him with the airship so it lifted Joktan up off the Invincible and he floated over to Cale, glancing curiously at the terrible sword chained to the newest Dominus before flashing him a cruel grin.

"How kind of you to offer. A ship-of-the-line must have a fully stocked bar, so might I trouble you for a cool refreshing bitter... bitter tears of a neglected child? Or how about a fine red, from the angry beating heart of a war criminal? ... Oh, but we'd never fit Baalhermon below decks, not even when he's Guised, so we'll take a rain check on the drinks, thanks."

"But, I will take you up on the second offer and disclose what--I must say I'm a bit surprised your most esteemed imperial lordships did not tell you--Inquisitors are. No, not my old stake-burning friends, nor a foolish Anglicized sendup of the boys in cardinal. Among the Nobilis, an Inquisitor is a gadfly and one that is not to be swatted at lightly. Inquisitors investigate our fellow Sovereigns for violations of the Code Fidelitatis, with the full faith and credit of the Locust Court at their backs, so long as they prove faithful themselves."

"There is a Judas in our midst, more than one we are given to believe, and a deep betrayal is underway," and for the first time since meeting him Joktan sounds deadly serious here. "You've already felt the effects, you're all here due to it of course, but the Council agrees that there are bigger targets than six murdered Nobles of two admittedly crucial Regi. So, since this whole thing is centered on you, Lord Entropy has overruled the objections of the traditional Inquisitorial Chancels and granted you his mark until the plot is uncovered and foiled."

He opens his left hand and six black insignia fly to you, scorning to be apart from their intended recipients. On each one a locust is stenciled in blood.

"In the course of fulfilling your duty, work your miracles through that and all who look upon them will know they belong to the Lord of Ash-Tree Earth. I shouldn't have to tell you to use his name wisely, but I will. Any questions?"

The quieted Destruction's-Regal snorts loudly at that last remark, then growls, "As for who you'll be workin' with, that'd be me. Joktan talks big, but for dealin' with a 'Scrucian Warmain, 'specially when you're out huntin' down traitors, you'll be needin' firepower here that isn't all tied up inna Chancel. She attacks this place again don't worry, I'll be on guard duty right outside. Piss on her Abhorrent Weapon, I'm Destruction."

[Cryptico]

Cale Pondered deeply on the ramifications of this assignment as he absentminded closed his eyes and place his right hand in his chin. This new duty would require him to be away from the fleet leaving it open to attack. An Excrucian Warmain, from what he understood or what he managed to catch from the incoherent ramblings of Admiral Tesla was their maddening power. Having Baalhermon here would be useful, but could he be trusted? What guaranteed he wasn't here to watch us? We would need to approach this mission carefully. We have two immediate fronts to engage he said to himself. In the social field to keep Baalhermon away from our business. The second in the battle field to keep the Warmain out of our chancels. And we are looking for a possible third front.

Cale looked again at The Scorn's Regal
Do we have any leads to start this investigation? Any suspect or fresh crime scenes

As he uttered these words a flash back from a memory...not one of his. The Old Dominus of Weapons. Dead in Hiroshima, did he have memories from the past Power of Weapons? Something he would indeed need to explore later.

Yet he kept it to himself, he wanted to see what the envoy would say, would it hide information, how helpful will it be? Certainly this test could help him assess how trust worthy his partner will be when left with us.

[Yuki Akuma]

Elizabeth takes the locust insignia, looking over it critically. "A locust." she says with a deadpan expression - and the faintest hint of disgust. She doesn't like locusts. Of course, she doesn't like Joktan either, so it's at least fitting.

She looks up at the youngest Power, tilting her head. "Recent crimes scenes? There's always the place your predecessor died last week."

[DeafnotDumb]

There is a buzzing sound and Solomon reflexively blinks before something settles on his skin, leaving icy spots as it crawls around, tickling his flesh. An insect. The Negro automatically reaches up a hand to brush it off, and there is the strangest feeling on his hand, as if it has been invaded somehow. Frowning, he lifts the mark up for Jean to look at.

"Now there's a thing. Is a mark of office really what we sirs want if we'll be investigating? Somehow puts a damper on subterfuge." Solomon harrumphs, before adding to Elizabeth's information. "Our dusky Marcu Maru would've been a nice guy to do some more talking to. Shame he isn't here now, but we could always go have a look-see at this new Power of Sleep, 'long as the man's still sane. See if they remember anything about was done to Jean, or what his Familia know. People do a lot of talking, and we might be able to figure who else was in on it."

The old man pointed his stick at Scorn and Destruction, or rather where he thought the Scorn and Destruction where. "Afore the sentencing went down, did you manage to extract a little testimony from him as a favor for this pore old man?"

[Dacia Brabant]

Joktan's grin broadens. "Ah sweet revenge. Well rest assured that your old master did not die completely in vain. For one thing, there are significant gaps in your dear friend Marcu Mara's Thought Record, in line with other past cases of creatures traveling Beyond Creation. And, amidst the torment of having his spirit devoured bit by bit, Marcu screamed 'The angel will free me!' several times. So that, along with his only testimony in his defense, 'They are so beautiful, outshining all the angels, all but the one amongst them,' strongly indicated to the Court that another of Heaven's self-proclaimed defenders of justice has switched sides."

"The record should be in your library by now. You should check out the audio sometime, Solomon, it's quite thrilling."


((As for the freshest crime scene, yes that would be the one in Hiroshima. Cale would have been notified that there also was a Flower Rite against Weapons in the same place that day but it wasn't completed even though the previous Dominus was killed there, alone.))

[Karsh]

Simon had remained oddly silent thus far in the conversation, simply observing as the task laid to the new Domini was detailed. The only sound came from the soft scratching of the Bard's Quill as Simon recorded the events of the meeting as they unfolded, as was his wont. He hid it well, but a shred of him was uncomfortable being far from his home. After all, in his Library, he was a King. Here he was merely a Viscount.

He took the locust insignia with an outstretched right hand. The sinuous runes, magic circles tattooed on his right arm revealed as his robe sleeve pulled away from his flesh. The lotus, his flower, the flower of Mystery and Truth, that was emblazoned on the back of his right hand seemed to open up as the locust insignia came to rest on it, becoming as much a part of the flower as his skin.

Normally, he didn't dress this way, but as the Loredrake receiving envoys from Lord Entropy himself, he had outfitted himself in the deep red velvet robes of his office. They billowed impressively in the wind, the same lotus insignia fluttering on his back, but subconsciously, Simon was somewhat annoyed with the way the wind threatened to knock him over.

As he begins to gather the shape of their task, Simon smiles. "So. Gather the threads of rumors, tales, and tellings, and weave them into a True Story to uncover the Judas in our midst. I should think that we will prove equal to the task."

[Cryptico]

Hearing the Loredrake finally break his silence brought a smile to Cale's face once more as he gave him a full of confidence nod.

"Very well honored envoys, we shall handle this" he told the envoys in calm assuring manner, as when a father tells a child: "it will be ok".

Changing the tone of his voice to a more serious one he addressed the rest of his familia.

Viscount of Flight, would you be so kind as to prepare an worthy aircraft to return the Scorn's Regal to his chancel, one of our best, we want him to return home with a souvenir from our Magnanimous Tempestad/Aleph alliance as a token of our friendship

He looked his brother in the eyes as he grinned.

Then moving his eyesight back to the Loredrake
Viscount Ballard, I believe it will be in your area of expertise to search the majestic Libraries of Aleph and weave the tale of our departed friend the Power of Sleep. We will need his full story and anything out of the ordinary that can help us identify the traitor

Next he addressed the Dominus of Jouneys
My Lord, would it be possible to arrange our journey towards Japan and any other places your brother pinpoints as places of interest during this investigation?

As he continued he realized he felt like he was in command even thought he was the youngest of powers, he admitted to himself he was being too impetuous to begin his new duties. Part of him called to serve so he hoped none of the other powers would take offense to it. And so he addressed the Domina of Death
My lady; the end of all things your Estate, a divination towards any deaths in our points of interest might give us a clue as to what we will face there, Excrucians from what I have heard are immune to divination hence looking for unnatural deaths at the hands of another who arent simply there would certainly be most beneficial

And finally
As for me, I shall prepare a suitable Destroyer for the Dominus of Destruction himself to utilize as his craft while he accomplishes his duties within our realms

Addressing now Baalhermon
My lord, the Domina of Storms, Warden of our Sanctum shall be your liaison if you need anything do not be afraid to contact her

And with a kind hearted good natured smile he finished
Any doubts, questions, tips, suggestions or concerns?

OOC
Since the lady of storm has no player might as well leave her the more passive task of handling Baalhermon within the chancel

[DeafnotDumb]

"Ah, I like stories. Travellin' stories are always the best ones." Using Jean as a guid, Solomon manages to aim a smile a little to the left of Simon, obviously taking his time to talk. The man seems to enjoy his words a little too much. "On rumors, anyone been hearing anything? Gossip and tattle was how we found out Jean's own Judas."

The Negro smiles as Cale makes his request to him. "Ol' Sol can do more than that, sirs. The roads speak to me, see, and I can tell 'em to be silent about where we tread. As I sees it, what you ask is not a problem so I might well throw an extra favor or two into the pot."

He quickly adresses a question to Joktan, the magpie's head briefly turning to face Scorn's Regal. "Sirs, where might these gaps in Marcu's record be? That could be mighty useful information."

[Zweanslord]

Martin grinned when he heard Solomon's reply to the young girl. He nodded at the inquiry about it being a good show, for a moment forgetting Solomon's blindness as he pondered about the statement. Aviator. Yes, he was that now. He had already flown in the ships of this fleet and had remarkable skills with them, while his only mechanical flying experience had been with the hang-glider before.

Blinking when he realised that the conversation continued, Martin decided to listen for now. Glaring at Baalhermon when he burst into laughter and showed such disrepect to God, he did look away when Joktan told about respect and winced when Lord Locust was compared to being God. Trying not to think about it, he focused on the next thing. He caught the insignia like the others, and held it up to look at. Letting his vision linger over the locust, Martin felt suspicion and respect cling to his heart and did not know what to do with it for now. Putting it in his pocket, Martin looked at Joktan again, pondering about what he had said about being an Inquisitor.

While he heard the words that were spoken, his mind was soaring through the clouds again as he thought about things. They only landed squarely on the deck again when he was called, noting how Cale seemed to assume the mantle of leadership. Not even shrugging about that, Martin was ready to note something: "Naturally, though remember that the storm alters the aircraft that join us here." With luck, it would not pop out of existence when it left the chancel this time.

His wings ruffled as he was anxious of soaring again, of taking flight and getting that aircraft out. Not like Joktan seemed to need it much, as even this aircraft seemed to despise and repel him, but it would make a nice gesture. Martin was respectful enough to wait a few moments, however, to see if Joktan had something to say, or any of the other Nobles here, that would possibly alter his action taken, since Cale had asked for comment from the company gathered here. If there were none, it was obvious enough that Martin would fly off to fetch the aircraft as soon as possible.

[Yuki Akuma]

Elizabeth looks up at the Dominus of Weapons for a while as he speaks, her expression unreadable. "...I preferred the other one," she says with an emotionless voice. Oh, sure, she only knew the previous Power of Weapons for... probably less than a week. but this new one is rubbing her the wrong way.

"...I can probably divine strange deaths, though. Not that of your predecessor - only my own death falls within my domain. But I'll see what I can do."

[Dacia Brabant]

"While I assure you I am so very grateful for your continued displays of generosity, I simply must decline the offer of one of your... flying machines. For you see nothing, not land or sea or sky, may impede me when I am on a Hunt, and I am always on a Hunt," Scorn's-Regal boasts, though if the rumors of his implacable pursuit of fugitives from Entropy's laws are to be believed it's no boast at all.

He actually sighs slightly at Sol's question about the Thought Record. "I suppose, seeing as how you can't see it for yourself, as a professional courtesy I may as well tell you that all the gaps--and there were at least a dozen--happened before he turned traitor. And now that I think about it, there is one oddity--the gaps all occurred in two-hour increments. Make of that what you will."

"Now, if there is no other way in which I may assist you fine gentlemen and ladies, I truly must be going. But before I do I leave you with one piece of advice from a veteran Inquisitor to a newbie: you should want to be more than equal to the task, Simon. I repeat, the traditional Inquisitorial Chancels objected to the Council of Four's unanimous decision to elevate you to this status, even on a temporary basis. Bearing Lord Entropy's insignia will shield you from the fangs of the Locust Court if you should get a little overzealous with your miracles and induce dementia animus in a few worthless mortals, but it will indeed make you a bigger target and not just for the hated Horsemen and the scum who serve them. Fare well! Be good, Baal."

Saying that he gives a bow and, with a wave of his hand, vanishes through a gate of his own making. Baalhermon responds by blowing a thick black cloud of brimstone where Joktan had just hovered, only to have it swallowed up by the storm.

"Right. So, you 'n me, eh? Let's dance!" Destruction's-Regal roars at the young True Queen of Locus Tempestad before soaring high into the wind on unseen wings. Undaunted in her own Chancel, the untamed Domina picks up the metaphorical gauntlet and chases after him on a storm cloud. They whirl and spin and turn sharply around the great chains holding the scores of Tempestad's vessels together, and are quickly joined in the chase by an oddly-configured fighter plane in the shape of a coil, which seems to be flying on its own self-generated lightning. It can only belong to Tesla. One gets the feeling they'll probably be going at their mock dogfight for some time, long enough for Baalhermon to scope out the place at any rate.


I agree, I'll be NPCing InaVegt's character until we hear from her.

After you talk out what you want to do, we can go ahead and end the scene and move on to the next one(s). Splitting the party is perfectly fine.

[Cryptico]

Both powers gone from sight, Cale let out a chuckle and spoke as if thinking aloud:

Hehe, The Scorn's Regal, scorned our gifts and hospitality, I dont know what to make of that. He has grown complacent in his position, oh well I am sure this will be of use to us

Looking at his Familia:

We will need to prepare for field work, Shall we get to work?

I think I have nothing else to add to this scene, all we gotta do is prepare to deploy and find what, The Loredrake could find in his research of the library, if yuki does the divination and finds something and well Journeys preparing our trip. Martin can create a badass airplane ill arm it with state of the art weaponry.

[Zweanslord]

Martin's wings folded behind him as Scorn's-Regal declined the offer of transportation. Moving his stance back to a firm and straight one, he bowed as Scorn's-Regal left the Chancel. Grinning as he saw Destruction's-Regal and the Lady of the Storm leave, along with Tesla in his marvellous flying machine, Martin then turned to hear what Cale had to say. Nodding, Martin added: "So our first destination will be the Great Library of Aleph, and then off to Japan to investigate further, as I understand correctly?"

[Dacia Brabant]

Interlude 1: Marcu Mara

(Hollyhock God's Note: While a Noble's thoughts may be his own so long as he is Sovereign, should that authority ever be suspended or revoked then his mind becomes as an open book to Lord Entropy and He is an avid reader. Thought-Records of Sovereign Powers, such as the one excerpted below, are rare and highly prized--particularly if there's any juicy gossip in them.)

Expectation before the moment, so filled with delightful anxiety and painful anticipation and even after five times I can't hardly stand it.

No journey of bodies in motion, timespace, thoughtspace, dreamspace, kills me and remakes me like this. How could they when they're all so mundane! Not all roads lead to Rome though they may as well, but by what road does a sleeper travel, and to what destination hmm?

That girl, that poor naive fool of a girl--why must I see her prettyface now!--she thinks she has it all 'cause she can be at allplace anyplace everyplace but she can't be NOPLACE now CAN SHE!?! NO! No! No. No one can. No one except me knows, me and the beautiful nothings and the angel more beautiful than them all. Soon, soon she will point the way to journey's end and through me all may know the way to get there. Only moments away.

I live for these moments. I die for these moments. I dream for them. I wake for them. But the expectation, oh I can't stand it! --

He cuts off here abruptly, like each of the other places, for 2 hours before resuming.

Bleurgh. Another restless day with the Sleeping God. So it goes. But sometimes... "Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices that, if I then had waked after long sleep, will make me sleep again; and then in dreaming, the clouds methought would open, and show riches ready to drop upon me, that when I waked I cried to dream again."

I wonder if he knew the way too.

---

Scene 2: Locus Aleph

For those who remained at Tempestad the scene remains unchanged from before, but for those who are going through the portal between Locus Tempestad's deafening thunder and Locus Aleph's deafening silence, it opens up in the chartroom of the H.M.S. Invincible into an expansive but dimly lit cloakroom with tall, heavy oaken doors closed air-tight in front of you and a classic example of a revolving door behind you. The whoosh! of the revolving door, undoubtedly a draft from the Storm Chancel, was the only sound in the room.

Although lacking any clear opening mechanism, the library doors could not be held shut against Simon their present master and so they creak open automatically for him. The room beyond stretches forever, with floors upon floors and shelves upon shelves and reams upon reams of books--so many it seems hardly possible they could fit even inside of infinite space. Researchers and scribes litter the halls and desks like so much scrap paper strewn about, yet the books and papers themselves are meticulously ordered even when they fly off the shelves answering unspoken wishes from patrons for the correct volumes. (And likewise fly back to their spot when no longer needed.)

"Shut the door!" yells a single, high-pitched voice of an unseen elderly woman, nearly as loud as the storm you just left behind, shattering the silence (along with a good number of mortal eardrums in the Grand Library of Enuma Elis, also known as Aleph the First Letter). The doors begin to shut on command, though they pause, trembling, until the Loredrake has passed beyond them.

You may act.

[Karsh]

The doors to the library yield impressively as Simon gestures towards them. He inhales deeply and gives a contented sigh as the familiar smell of dust and old paper fills his nostrils. And the silence. That beautiful silenc-- The scream tore it like a wet sheet of paper. Simon winced and ground his teeth. That damnable woman. Again. Always.

Simon held the door for the others as they entered, and then for a moment longer out of spite, before releasing the doors from his control and allowing them to slam shut. The moment the doors closed, Simon's robes vanished, replaced instead by a simple white button-down shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows and khaki slacks. He adjusts his glasses. "Thank you, Mz. McAllister, as always, for your eternal vigilance over the well-being of the tomes."

Turning to the nobles from Locus Tempestad, Simon gestures expansively -- "Welcome to Locus Aleph, or what the Great Library of Alexandria Could Have Been. Let us retreat to my personal library where we will have... more peace... while we research."

Simon glances over his shoulder and then points at a row of shelves. "Revised Bliss Bibliographic Classification." He smiles contentedly as the books re-sort themselves in a flurry of paper.

[Yuki Akuma]

Elizabeth pets her kitty as that damned woman shrieks at the top of her lungs, covering the poor blasphemy against life's ears and cooing softly. She thinks lightly to herself, and then, without a word, heads for the obituary section of the library - intent on using them as props for her divinations.

[DeafnotDumb]

The Duke of Journeys takes a deep breath as his feet step onto the floor of the unearthly library. The place feels like a house of still life and quiet death to him, the air filled with dusty books and quiet wasted moments. It feels like a destination, the end of new discoveries and adventures, and he always feels like he's betraying his estate as soon as he returns home. On his shoulder Jean shuffles contently along, happy as long as she is out of the storm and in a place full of shines and bugs to eat.

Then a woman's yell splits the air and Solomon's fears of a short and dull time are dispelled."Your voice is a righteous pleasure to hear, as always. Madame." Solomon gives the rouge librarian his most cheerfully irritating smile while Simon gives the newcomers his welcoming speech. "Given your consideration as to my plans 'bout a bit of a music box for the place?"

The seeds of entertainment planted, Solomon pulls briefly up to the Sovereign of Stories. "Get us a favour and draw up those thought-records of Marcu Maru while we're here? And best to get the Court records of his time as we're at it..." The old man muses as his sightless gaze stares into the distance.

[Cryptico]

I am staying behind at the Tempestad, organizing our effort

Men are running in every direction, the storm raging brutal as always. As an unnatural voice like the roar of thunder imparts orders. Not screaming but as if amplified with microphones and speakers where there are none to be found

With command in his voice Cale gives directions to the men who scurry to carry them on.

"Unlatch the second destroyer from the chains, it will become the temporary quarters of Baalhermon make sure it happens

Prepare the Sovereign Force One for deployment and operations on the Prosaic atmosphere.

Any man with any sort of military, security or armed forces and or medical experience is to report to the HMS Tempestad, some of you will be chosen as rear element in case we need reinforcement"

In December 2001, a B-1B (s/n 86-0114) from the 28th Bomb Wing, 37th Bomb Squadron, Ellsworth AFB, South Dakota, was lost over the Indian Ocean. All four crew members successfully ejected and were rescued. The bomber was flying en route to a long-range combat mission over Afghanistan when the crew declared an in-flight emergency. The pilot, attributed the crash to "multiple malfunctions" causing the bomber to go "out of control". Because of the water's depth, the structural data collector (SDC) or "Black Box" was not recovered.

Now it lies in the Locus Tempestad, rebuild and retrofitted with two out of the three bomb bays replaced with luxurious cabins and furniture equips to ferry up to 10 personnel including an attendant and a small kitchen to become the Soveriegn Force One. The third ordinance bay now contains a combination of Air to Air and Air to Ground missiles. The outside of the aircraft has been slightly altered to

So do I need to beg for you to tell me: I can have it?

Which brings me how much resource can we pull from the Tempestad's Salvage collection and how much do we need to "miraculously create ourselves?

[Dacia Brabant]

Simon and Solomon:

The thin, ruler-straight, grey-hamed frame of Mz. McAllister floats down before you, her steel wool-like hair bundled up impossibly tight and great horned-rim spectacles crowning a face hidden behind a thick volume of Untold Tales by that famous author Anonymous. Either she's the perfect caricature of a severe old librarian or the prototype.

"And thank you for shu--" she uncharacteristically stops mid-insult and peeks her hard gray eyes out from under the tome. "Hmm. Actually... thank you for not bringing that bull Baal into my proverbial china shop. Having one of them here is intolerable enough--good thing I installed that air freshener. As for your music, the soundproof listening cubicles are all I'm prepared to provide. Now, do keep your voices down, and try to mind the Dewey Hexadecimal System." With that she flies silently upward to her hawkish perch over the main collection.

The Thought-Records are kept at the end of a shifting maze of stacks in a surprisingly small, cramped, bottom-floor room close to the Realm's Heart. The room contains a table and a few chairs, hundreds of filing cabinets containing millions of record chips, and on permanent loan from Lord Entropy a playback device (it cannot make records) consisting of a helmet with a slot for a chip, and a remote control.

It takes no more than a thought from Simon for Marcu Mara's record to spring out from its container and insert itself into the device, ready for your mind to open up to it.
---

Elizabeth:

You make your way to the library's vast newsprint archives, updated as frequently as new editions appear on Mythic Earth, including every death notice ever filed. The names, and stories, of the dead are as an open book before you.

Unfortunately you are not the only Sovereign who's reading the material here: a disgustingly familiar figure levitates before a microfiche kiosk while a mortified young library assistant operates it for him. It's easy to see why an assistant would be needed since the heavily cloaked Noble is so filthy that it would take a miracle to scrub his grime off the device. You and all the other residents of Locus Aleph know him, Meon Desecration's-Regal, who sits in Lord Entropy's place on the Council of Four whenever the Darkest Lord is absent. Due to a provision of the treaty with your Chancel and Entropy's, Meon has unfettered access to the records kept here.

"I see we had the same idea, my dear sweet Lady of Death," Meon turns and hisses from under his cowl. "Maybe we'll even reach the same conclusion, and wouldn't that be a dream? But you needen't worry about me, I'm just finishing here so it's all yours."
---

Cale: (and Martin?)

The deckhands do their best to follow your orders despite the hurricane swirling around you. Eventually they're able to remove the chains binding a clockwork destroyer, a sea-and-airship sporting a clocktower instead of a conning tower and powered by a massive network of gears, and on command the vessel lifts off the water and seeks out Destruction's-Regal who's now trading fireballs and lightning bolts (you're pretty sure they're of the Ghostly variety) with Tesla and Liz.

And finally the Sovereign Force One--a transcontinental bomber jet-- emerges from within the Tempestad, lifted to the top deck by cables thicker than the trunk of a redwood on pullies the size of a bus. Should you wish to miraculously enhance its weaponry or flying capabilities, you may do so now.

[Cryptico]

Cale stood as the howling winds lashed against everything within the storm with unending fury. His heavy military style raincoat made him look bigger and more imposing. Men where running in every direction screaming instruction, echoing directives and dutifully following orders. He sympathized with them hence why he would always be out there if the men would suffer so would he. After all we considered himself just another weapon.

The SF-1 was finally placed within the runway. The only aircraft within the chancel capable of flying in the prosaic world. It looked strange, out of place maybe anachronistic in front of all the clockwork marvels that while looking impressive they certainly looked dated against the slick design of the Bomber converted to Fighter/Luxury Jet. He laughed as he considered the notion. As he walked towards it he surveyed looking for the man in charge and ordered in a commanding tone yet as if speaking to a friend:

"Prepare to perform pre-combat check and pre-combat inspections, standard load will be: Aerial Superiority/Ground Assault hybrid. We will also for require supplies for long deployment in case the situation requires, we will need at least one attendant"

He smirked and changed his tone to a more relaxed as said:

" Make sure she is a sexy one please and we are gonna need a fully stocked kitchen, winery and make sure there is rum on board, keep extra supplies at hand and ready to deliver before departure in case any of the other Sovereigns which for anything in particular"

Resuming his more serious tone he added as he surveyed the bird once more:

Prepare the ordinance bay, I will load it. Also have the bird's captain come see me, I wish to ensure the crew is good to go

As soon as the hands gave him the green light . He looked once more at the aircraft with a deep miracle of creation Missiles and Bombs to appeared where there were none.

The act really drained him yet he still remained on the deck. Remembering that they might need support in Japan he contacted his anchor Sharlene:

"Sharlene, pack your bags, Hiroshima, Ill need you there ASAP, make contacts with the Yakuza or anyone who sells weapons will need the locals use to shoot each other these days might need them when I arrive"

[Yuki Akuma]

Elizabeth stares at Meon for some time, a blank expression on her face. She really has perfected her poker face. Meanwhile, her thoughts are conflicted, as usual - part of her wants to get rid of him as soon as possible, while another part is intrigued at what he was looking for. She settles for a compromise.

She inclines her head to him, politely. "Good day to you, Desecration. To what do I owe this honour of your visit to my little... hideaway?"

[Karsh]

As Simon leads Solomon to the Thought-Records room, Simon nods and greets various tenants of the library in hushed tones. An orangutan lopes alongside them for a while, "ook"ing away with Simon genially before swinging off through the stacks back to his own world.

As they walk, too, Simon summons various books and records from the Locust Court and assembles an impressive array of tomes and ledgers on the natures of the angels, trying to gain any information he might be able to glean from Aleph's considerable stores of knowledge. The books and papers float about him and flip on their own to relevant portions, presenting themselves to him in an order that maximizes the gained understanding from his research.

Newspapers, periodicals, and other, less reputable sources of information from Japan assemble themselves as well, presenting any accounts of the death of Masaharu Iga that might be circulating in the prosaic world.

"We really must petition Lord Entropy to grant us authority of the Locust Court in the Chancel; I do not relish the prospect of venturing out into the prosaic world to perform my Inquisitive duties. Forgive my selfishness, but I never feel truly at home when I am outside of the library.

Would you care to do the honors, Brother Solomon?"

Performing Lesser Divinations on stories of angels and on rumors regarding the death of Masahiru Iga

[DeafnotDumb]

Solomon follows the True King down his channel, happy to let the man lead the way this once: for a man in his castle was the best guide for any visitor, even Journeys himself. Not that Jean - may she rest in peace - would've agreed, but Solomon felt he'd lived long enough to be entitled to his own opinion in these matters. He'd travelled enough.

Partway though the journey a strange loping sound coupled with the short 'ooks' of an simian travelled alongside them, and the Negro had to keep a hand on Jean to stop her from flying off his shoulder to take a peck at the new creature. He waits, until the thing has finished it's conversation before speaking to Simon, a smile on his face at the novelty of the situation. "Since you have something of a bond with that monkey, could you tell him to not mind Jean should she take an interest in him? I don't want any trouble getting to her because of her curiosity."

Solomon waits in the room as Simon pulls up his information with the now distinctive sound of fluttering papers and books, knowing that the Viscount of Stories would not let anything harm his Familia while they were in his Channel. The wind of their passage breezing in his face is still rather disconcerting. Once the summons is finished Jean floats onto the table and on top of the helmet, providing the eyes Solomon needs to navigate his way to the device.

"Yeh be pardoned." Solomon responds, picking up the helmet with the apprehension expected of a 20th century mind faced with new and deviant technology. "It's only in your nature to prefer this place. As for me, I be yearning for a chance to stretch my legs, but a journey's not a journey if you can't share it with someone. Maybe I can show you some of them stories waiting for you out in the world, brother. It ain't like anybody wrote a piece of true life from the comfort of their home, did they?"

Carefully, Solomon places the helmet on his head, and waited.

[Zweanslord]

Martin had wondered for a while. Should he join in the silence of the library to find out more, to visit their fellow Nobles in their domain, or devote his full attention to augmenting the flight capable craft. The decision proved to be easier than he had first expected.

Flying to the Sovereign Force One with the grace of a bird, Martin White nods to Cale. "Looking good already. Seems like you have things under control with the offensive department, that is for sure." Grinning shortly, Martin descended upon the mechanical bird itself and spread his wings wide. While the storm ruffled through his feathers and wind swept at the wings, trying to push them aside, they would not budge. Kneeling down with one knee upon the exterior of the vessel, Martin put a hand on it. Smiling as he felt the capability of flight livid within the device, he for a moment closed his eyes.

Feeling the power of this might vessel, the power to fly and best gravity itself as it soared on winds everlasting, Martin reached in and took hold of that core of power, extending it and intensifying it. "You can fly, and so it shall remain." He whispered to the Sovereign Force One. And with that whisper rolling over it, so did the current of power. Any left over filth and sign of age washed off it as it recognised that it had the power inside of it, the power to fly! Dents that had been stuck on the outside for years snapped straight again, as the mighty vessel felt young once more, empowered by the words of Martin. It would soar through the skies, like before, and nothing could stop it.

Landing besides Cale, Martin looked at the Sovereign Force One, looking almost new once more. Content with the simple Miracle, Martin spoke up. "There will be no need to do any flight checks or inspections. Even if it had not told me it was so, I know it is ready."

Performing a simple Preservation miracle of Flight. It will keep flying longer than a normal aircraft, even, or perhaps especially, in perilous situations.

[Dacia Brabant]

Cale and Martin:

The crew chief grins widely at Cale's requests for the contents of the cabin, as though thinking aye, this one's my kind of fellow, and with a salute hustles off to carry them out.

Drawing deeply upon the well of his Estate, Cale is able to create a great payload of miraculously enhanced fuel-air explosives for both air and surface targets, which load into SF-1 on your command. Furthermore, Martin's efforts ensure that the weight of the weapons doesn't impede the aircraft's flight speed, range and maneuverability in the slightest. It's as if the craft were fresh off the line.

Sharlene mentally assents to Cale's command, though not without an odd bit of trepidation and adding, "I hope we're not staying in that hellhole." ((OOC: You would know that in this world, Hiroshima was hit not with an atomic bomb but with a thermonuclear weapon, wiping out most of the region--as such there was no Nagasaki bomb. Only in recent years has it been rebuilt.))

Finally the pilot, Captain Kalla Alexia, a raven-haired beauty but from the deference shown her by the crew no mere "bridge bunny," strides up confidently in spite of the weather and gives a crisp salute. "Sirs! All personnel present and accounted for! Your orders?" She was about to say "all systems checked out" but realized just in time there'd be no need with the Viscount of Flight on hand.

Make sure to keep track of those MPs. :smallsmile:

Elizabeth:

While you can't quite make out his features (not without miraculously enhanced sight anyway), you can just feel the sly smile slithering its way across Meon's face. "Would you believe me if I said it was to behold that delightfully serene deathmask you wear so-- ...no, I suppose you wouldn't. Pity, unlike my hateful brother I do not patronize. But the truth is, I'm here for the same reason I'm always here: researching evidence for Court, though to hear that banshee you have running the place I only come to befoul her precious atmosphere. 'Tis but a side-effect I assure you."

"And before you ask, yes I was reading what the mortal press is saying about the death of a man fitting Masaharu Iga's description. Did you know that he was a decorated World War Two veteran, a member of the imperial family, a prominent peace activist, and a suicide victim even though the Choshu Police are investigating it as a murder? Neither did I. Now I know the Japanese age slowly by mortal standards, but he seemed quite youthful for a 90 year old. Well, live and learn."

While you probably didn't know him all that well, you do remember that Masaharu didn't look anything close to venerable.

Simon:

Stories of angels is a bit broad for a lesser divination--you'd get material ranging from children's books about chubby cherubim to religious texts to TV dramas about angels among us. Based on the examples in the book I'd say you'd need a major divination to pull out something that's relevant. Angelic Imperators however are outside your Estate's purview.

Likewise, since Masaharu was a Sovereign Power his stories don't belong to your Estate, so to divine information about him you'll need to do it indirectly--maybe divining stories about Hiroshima? Or, you could use an Aspect miracle to read through your texts at superhuman speed to find relevant information. Level 2 would do it for sure.

Solomon:

When you don the Thought-Record player, you feel a strange sensation as though someone else's mind is temporarily occupying the same thought-space as your own. At first you mostly sense cries and screams and pleads for the "angel [to] save me," then as it scrolls back you sense the same testimony Scorn's-Regal said Marcu gave, then what's to you the very familiar scene of Marcu's bodily death at your hands (proof that the long bloody arm of Lord Entropy's justice extends farther than the reaches of the dead). Finally you get to what you've come for, his thoughts the day before he killed Jean.

((OOC: Along with the Interlude I posted above, you sense several stray references in his babbling to "dreaming without sleeping" or "waking dreams."))

[Cryptico]

Cale smiled and returned the salute of the Crew Chief as he departed. He continue to run the plan through his head as he received Sharlene's answer to which he replied with a chuckle:
"hehe, you are an archeologist, I am pretty sure that place is full of history you might find interesting even if it is something of a hell hole, but none the less. As soon as we make contact and you bring me what I ask you can go on about your business, I apologize for taking your time"

So much to do and the storm raged, Cale continued to ponder and prepare, this would be his first true mission since he became a power. Part of him was impatient but he mastered his emotions he figured it should be a simple investigation. While he pondered he heard the all too familiar sound of wings approach him. The Viscount of Flight had arrived to aid with the preparations of the SF-1 and greeted him. As the winged man completed his task and landed beside him, Cale nodded at him and commented:

"Hopefully we will not have to use them...

Referring to the missiles.


these are some impressive weapons, it would hurt me to see them go, even though I am fully aware that it is their task and purpose, interesting dichotomy no?

There was a lot of racket and noise. All the men where gathering as a woman called them to attention, they formed up. A raven-haired beauty walked up to the pair and saluted and reported for orders. She was the officer in charge of the aircraft. He observed her not only her face and body which were more than certain a sight for sore eyes for which he was glad but also analyzed her behavior and discipline. Cale seemed pleased and respectfully saluted. Then he proceeded to a short briefing:

With a calm yet strong almost somber tone Cale spoke to her:
Captain, this will be our first mission together, let your crew know we will do everything within our power to ensure of your safety, however our task is a dangerous one. Only those who have the will to sacrifice their lives for Atra-Hasis and creation should come with us. Anyone not willing will be allowed to go back to the fleet. No one will be mocked or disrespected. No questions asked and no reprisal. Everyone has a duty and a role to play.

As to our mission, we will fly at high altitude and silent, if anyone contacts us inform them we are a private luxury aircraft and let one of the Sovereign know. If we are engaged by anything regardless of origin I will leave it to your discretion as whether to evade or shoot back. Again do inform us. I trust the mission will be completed successfully"

Turning to his brother he asked:
"Do you have anything else to add?"

[Zweanslord]

Martin White shakes his head. "Nothing to add here. Well said, Cale." He looked impressed how Cale had already assumed the authority around here, moving about with the confidence of somebody who knew his will would be done. Then again, he seemed more at home amongst these warships, armaments and the constant violence of the thundering storm in the first place.

Gazing upon the captain, Martin White considered for a moment the difference of the normal humans living their lives on Earth, those living here and the Nobles, of which he was one now. His wings were folded behind him and he could feel power still lingering on his finger tips from the moment just passed where he had performed a miracle. Life was so different than a few weeks ago, so much more intense and so much more important. What were her memories?

[DeafnotDumb]

Solomon's suddenly clumsy hands grasp the helmet and lift it off and the blind man's flailing causes him to bang his hip painfully against the table, shaking some files onto the floor. Groping blindly, he manages to find support on the wall through sheer luck, and steadies himself, his face grim.

Sighing, he speaks to Simon. "Young man, would you be kind enough to an old man as to pass him his walking stick?"

"That boy's mind was some jumble. Confusion, talk of holy angels, what I think is sleepwalking - I don't think he knew where he was going."The Noble's sightless eyes set on something away from mortal gazes, looking down the paths, roads and footsteps that spread themselves all over the World Ash like some golden work of art done by a mad prophet, an indecipherable mass to all but one. "Meyybe I can find out for him."


Lesser Divination of Journeys to find out where Marcu Maru went during those two hour gaps, coupled with 2 levels of penetration. No MPs needed.

[Yuki Akuma]

The young Death's-Regal frowns just a tiny bit. "The press is reporting it as a suicide, but the police are investigating it as a murder..." She hmmms, shaking her head. "...If you will excuse me, I have some business to attend to. Assuming you are finished, of course...?"

[OOC: Ack. Sorry for the long wait. And the tiny post.]

[Dacia Brabant]

Cale and Martin:

"It will be sir, and on behalf of the flight crew I assure you none of us would think of abandoning our duty. As part of this armada we prepare every day for an opportunity like this," Captain Alexia responds with pride in her eyes, mirrored by the excited looks on the faces of the crew at hand. If there's nothing else she salutes again and goes to get ready for takeoff.

Martin:
Going by your question at the end, did you want to divine her memories? As a pilot she is a part of your Estate so you can do that with a Lesser Divination.

Solomon:

This was a bit of a gray area for me regarding Marcu and whether the fact his Sovereignty was removed allows you to divine his journeys even though they would not be part of your Estate if he were still a Noble. I'm going to rule that it is retroactive so he can be treated as a mortal, but that only applies in the cases of a Power punished this way by Lord Entropy.

Journeys opens itself to you like a book and you spiritually thumb through it with ease to a page marked "Marcu Mara." Perusing its contents you get a clear sense that he did not travel by any physical, mental or spiritual road, but his dreams did on at least half a dozen occasions. The exact path or means of travel is hidden to you, however, and in its place you find a purple mountain laurel that's nearly petalless. Despite that, Journeys is confident the destination was not on the World Ash.

Elizabeth:

"Indeed I am. Farewell, until we meet again," Meon replies with a slight nod of his cowled head. Just before he portals out of the library he adds almost as an afterthought, "Hmm. 'Tis a shame our friends in the Cammorae are still banned from operating inside Nihon; this case has the stench of politics about it and that always attracts them like maggots to a cadaver. C'est la vie."

You probably would know that most of the island of Honshu is contained within Locus Nihon, Chancel of the True God of Japan, the Dawn and the Sea. Although the part that includes Hiroshima is not within its borders.

[Zweanslord]

At first, it had been just idle curiosity. The thought had been about the difference between the normal mortal life and the life in the Chancel. The life, not of a Noble, but of somebody else getting here, in this case the captain of the mighty vessel Martin had just strengthened. With the power of a miracle still lingering about his fingertips, he could feel the potential darting about as well. His idle curiosity could be satisfied, as she was a pilot, and that without much effort either, as he felt that was well within his capabilities.

He reached out with his mind, letting the idle curiosity soar through the sky, as if it was a little bird flitting about in a, what else, curious manner. Settling unseen on the head of the pilot, it gently reached in and 'picked her brain' for the information so to say, before flitting back to Martin White and whispering in his ear the information it had obtained. Only the breeze of the wind could be felt..

Thanks for the information, yes I would like to divine her memories about and how she feels about the change in life from the mortal life to a life in the Chancel.