Musica Mundana: Spiritual Engineering

[Thanqol]

To get on in Australia, you must make two observations. Say, "You have the most beautiful bridge in the world" and "They tell me you trounced England again in the cricket." The first statement will be a lie. Sydney Bridge is big, utilitarian and the symbol of Australia, like the Statue of Liberty or the Eiffel Tower. But it is very ugly. No Australian will admit this.

— James Michener

OOC Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?490237-Mage-The-Awakening-Musica-Mundana)

Starring

Compass (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=20949541&postcount=83)by Raz Fox
Keynes (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=20949837&postcount=84)by Anarion
Lily (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=20953441&postcount=86)by PhoeKun


Sydney Harbour Bridge is the magical keystone that binds the entire arcane network of Australia's highways together. If you set off in either direction and drive in a straight line sooner or later you will be able to arrive directly in front of Parliament House in Canberra. In times of war the bridge was modified to be a military installation, with anti-aircraft guns mounted atop it's pylons. In times of poverty it's construction brought salvation through employment to thousands - earning it the name "The Iron Lung" of Sydney. When it was completed a million humans - almost the entire population of Sydney at the time - gathered to ritually celebrate and imbue it with power as the great symbol of Australia.

(As an interesting aside, the opening ceremony was stolen by Francis de Groot, who rode up on a horse and illegally declared the bridge open before anyone could stop him. No one knows for sure what he did with that incredible surge of arcane power or what changes he made to the Australia-spanning geomantic network).

The biggest artificial ley line in the world runs across the Bridge. Pure arcane energy pulses across it along paths carved by speeding cars. Enough energy to power an entire nation. Mages are loth to interact with it because it's like a mains power line or a high pressure pipe and it's entirely possible to be disintegrated or come face-to-face with some creature of the Howling Aether if you don't know what you're doing. And that's if the other Mages don't get to you first.

Last night someone punctured it. The bridge looks fine at a glance but something up there is broken.

And like blood gushing from a punctured jugular, mana is spraying out in a vast, indiscriminate flow directly into the harbour and its surrounding landmarks.

Nobody knows for sure what the results of that are going to be.

A lot of people are really interested in finding out.

Where are you and what are you doing this fine springtime morning?

[Raz_Fox]

Gabriella Jalloh is in Kirribilli, and she is concerned about many things. She is wearing an expensive tank top and running shorts, and she is glowing; the sun breaks itself on her skin, which is firm, slicked with sweat. Underneath the skin, her muscles ache, and the ache is good. Through the crucible of her body, she takes the potential energy of her self and transforms it into kinetic motion, into movement, into repetition.

Her run took her over the Sydney Harbor Bridge this morning, along the pedestrian's footpath that runs along one side of the bridge. She ran barefoot and mana pooled in the wetness of her passing. But she is not done running, and she considers what she has seen as she runs through Kirribilli, the low thump of a British DJ's latest trance mix keeping time with the holy motion of her body.

Kirribilli! This is a good place. It is wealth, a bridge removed from the beating heart of the city. It is a place of power, it is the seat of the Admiralty House where the Governor-General lives, next door to the Prime Minister in Kirribilli House. It is gardens and the lights of Luna Park at night. And it is through Kirribilli that Gabriella often runs, glowing and exerting herself as hard as she dares, holding back her own will to make the running any easier. If she is not tired and panting by the end, it is not enough of a run to get her ready for the day.

Her feet turn back towards the bridge. She passes mothers who are going to the store, she passes tourists getting an early start on heading out for the beaches, she passes everyone and leaves a part of herself lingering behind, marking the city as hers. Now that she has run, and has run properly, there is time for a thorough inspection of the bridge.

I wonder what she shall find?

[Anarion]

Keynes is already there. He slept restlessly, woke up during the night and looked out the window to see a flood in the harbor. So he put on his coat and went to look close to the bridge on the Sydney side. He's a more cautious sort than Compass though and he hadn't crossed it or even gone on the bridge itself yet when she came running across. He'd considered stopping her, but might as well stop a freight train, and anyway a flow of mana isn't a threat to an Obrimos. So he watched, and got closer as she cleared the way.

He's been inspecting with Mage sight (Time and Fate), looking for the source of the breach and is now moving closer. What does he see?

[PhoeKun]

'Fine'. Fine. 'Springtime'. Cool! 'Morning.' Ugh... On a short list of things that should really honestly be outlawed, Mornings sit pretty much at the top of them. On a fine springtime afternoon, Lily would like to imagine she'd be all over that bridge right now, excitedly poking at it and seeing what broke, and just as importantly what's still holding it together. It's a puzzle! Puzzles are neat! And also there just aren't that many steel suspension bridges in the world anywhere near that size and sometimes it's cool to just appreciate how pretty and well constructed something is, even if it's in pain. But that's a job for the afternoon sun or the city lights after dark.

So there's no puzzle solving going on right now. There are only muttered curses directed at Keynes, whose bright idea this was to "put eyes on the problem.", and locks of disheveled blond hair hanging and falling over bloodshot eyes belonging to the woman slumped over the wall down by the bay. Technically she's looking at the bridge from down below it, but more accurately she has a death grip on a cup of coffee and she's waiting for the lifeblood of the universe to fill her with a sense of artificial waking. Maybe then the bridge will be in focus. Maybe then her brain will dance at the prospect of some honest-to-goodness sciencing up in here. But now is not then, and this is Supernal Truth.

"Next time the world is maybe ending I'm telling him I'll meet it in bed..."

[Thanqol]

Her feet turn back towards the bridge. She passes mothers who are going to the store, she passes tourists getting an early start on heading out for the beaches, she passes everyone and leaves a part of herself lingering behind, marking the city as hers. Now that she has run, and has run properly, there is time for a thorough inspection of the bridge.

I wonder what she shall find?

The first thing is that the Sleeper authorities aren't on to the problem - consciously. Through the lens of Spirit you can see that this is like the ocean hitting the brick wall of the Gauntlet - and water seeps. Leave this be for a few days and everyone who works on this bridge will be possessed. Some people might already be, if they're particularly receptive to that kind of thing.

The second thing is that there's nothing obviously physically wrong with the bridge you can tell from a quick walk over. Maybe in the maintenance areas - but those are locked, covered by cameras, and will get counter-terrorism police on your ass. To get more you'll have to go deeper. Do you? How do you?


Keynes is already there. He slept restlessly, woke up during the night and looked out the window to see a flood in the harbor. So he put on his coat and went to look close to the bridge on the Sydney side. He's a more cautious sort than Compass though and he hadn't crossed it or even gone on the bridge itself yet when she came running across. He'd considered stopping her, but might as well stop a freight train, and anyway a flow of mana isn't a threat to an Obrimos. So he watched, and got closer as she cleared the way.

He's been inspecting with Mage sight (Time and Fate), looking for the source of the breach and is now moving closer. What does he see?

Time and Fate get you nothing, really. It's a bridge! It's not destined to fall, no one Screwed Up when making it, its history is comprehensively documented in the museum, there aren't any active spells on it. Through those filters the bridge is just a big ol' lump of iron; set dressing on the stage.

That itself is something of a tell. There isn't an Evil Plan here, or the kind of deliberate intent or larger scheme that Fate can adjust for - unless it's being concealed. You might discover that with deeper Focused observation, if there's anything to find.


'Fine'. Fine. 'Springtime'. Cool! 'Morning.' Ugh... On a short list of things that should really honestly be outlawed, Mornings sit pretty much at the top of them. On a fine springtime afternoon, Lily would like to imagine she'd be all over that bridge right now, excitedly poking at it and seeing what broke, and just as importantly what's still holding it together. It's a puzzle! Puzzles are neat! And also there just aren't that many steel suspension bridges in the world anywhere near that size and sometimes it's cool to just appreciate how pretty and well constructed something is, even if it's in pain. But that's a job for the afternoon sun or the city lights after dark.

So there's no puzzle solving going on right now. There are only muttered curses directed at Keynes, whose bright idea this was to "put eyes on the problem.", and locks of disheveled blond hair hanging and falling over bloodshot eyes belonging to the woman slumped over the wall down by the bay. Technically she's looking at the bridge from down below it, but more accurately she has a death grip on a cup of coffee and she's waiting for the lifeblood of the universe to fill her with a sense of artificial waking. Maybe then the bridge will be in focus. Maybe then her brain will dance at the prospect of some honest-to-goodness sciencing up in here. But now is not then, and this is Supernal Truth.

"Next time the world is maybe ending I'm telling him I'll meet it in bed..."

Meanwhile, to the Realm of Stygia the bridge is an elaborate, fascinating and meticulously crafted masterpiece. It weighs 52,800 tonnes and most of that steel came from England. It has six million rivets. It is worth exactly $93,505,029.94 in today's inflation-adjusted prices.

It is also suffering from structural damage - more than the routine wear and tear, something has damaged it. You can't see it at a glance but it's a big bridge and your crap human eyes aren't good enough to pick out details at this distance. Do you have a telescope?

[Anarion]

Before Keynes starts throwing mana at the problem, let's try looking a little bit more directly. He goes up to the bridge itself, it's a huge structure and I'm guessing it's got plenty of sympathy for any recent trauma that it's suffered. So let's take a look from a firsthand view as far as we can go.

Keynes puts his hand on the structure, and begins going over it carefully, using his Guardian training and his eye for detail to look back into it's past.

[Going to cast postcognition as a rote, letting the bridge go to its recent temporal sympathy. I get 5 free reach, so it will be
-one scene long as needed
-instant cast
-can stop/rewind/fast forward the vision
-still aware of surroundings (no affect on defense from casting postcognition, will not run into traffic)
-To the extent there's any temporal withstand, -2 to it from advanced potency.]
[roll0]
[10 agains are 4 and 5, so 3 successes.]

[PhoeKun]

Meanwhile, to the Realm of Stygia the bridge is an elaborate, fascinating and meticulously crafted masterpiece. It weighs 52,800 tonnes and most of that steel came from England. It has six million rivets. It is worth exactly $93,505,029.94 in today's inflation-adjusted prices.

It is also suffering from structural damage - more than the routine wear and tear, something has damaged it. You can't see it at a glance but it's a big bridge and your crap human eyes aren't good enough to pick out details at this distance. Do you have a telescope?

There's a certain feeling of melancholy clutching Lily's heart as she leans there contemplating the bridge. For one thing, she knew neither of her friends ever saw how beautiful it really was, the way steel intertwined on steel and locked together in a complex pattern of rivets and stretched seemingly forever into the sky and shimmered in every kind of light with the pride it felt for being an impossible marvel of engineering. Of course they'd be impressed in their own ways, but would either of them actually look at the bridge if they told her how amazing it was? Probably not. Depressing thought. Bad. Coffee, good. She took another long sip and exhaled the idea away.

"Anyway, for two... dang. Just, dang," she mutters to nobody at all, "This is going to be a really big mess if nobody does anything."

With a yawn, she straightens up and fishes a camera out of her purse. No, it's not a telescope but quite frankly can you imagine how silly it would look carrying something like that around the harbor? And also, have you seen (http://1.media.collegehumor.cvcdn.com/40/61/5e8f292613bbf12e0d84b0afc5982550.gif) the zoom these things manage nowadays? Mental note: pull that function out sometime and stuff it in a pair of glasses. The applications are limitless and nearly as cool as x-ray vision in a locker room. She smiles, and looks a bit deeper at the situation.

[Thanqol]

Before Keynes starts throwing mana at the problem, let's try looking a little bit more directly. He goes up to the bridge itself, it's a huge structure and I'm guessing it's got plenty of sympathy for any recent trauma that it's suffered. So let's take a look from a firsthand view as far as we can go.

Keynes puts his hand on the structure, and begins going over it carefully, using his Guardian training and his eye for detail to look back into it's past.

[Going to cast postcognition as a rote, letting the bridge go to its recent temporal sympathy. I get 5 free reach, so it will be
-one scene long as needed
-instant cast
-can stop/rewind/fast forward the vision
-still aware of surroundings (no affect on defense from casting postcognition, will not run into traffic)
-To the extent there's any temporal withstand, -2 to it from advanced potency.]
[roll0]
[10 agains are 4 and 5, so 3 successes.]

The incident began at 10:45, about an hour after sunset. But while you're able to accurately displace your senses in time to that moment you're just staring up at a big dark bridge at night. You can't see sh*t. If you got up there, to the spot where it happened and cast the spell again then you'd be able to see whatever happened there perfectly well though.


There's a certain feeling of melancholy clutching Lily's heart as she leans there contemplating the bridge. For one thing, she knew neither of her friends ever saw how beautiful it really was, the way steel intertwined on steel and locked together in a complex pattern of rivets and stretched seemingly forever into the sky and shimmered in every kind of light with the pride it felt for being an impossible marvel of engineering. Of course they'd be impressed in their own ways, but would either of them actually look at the bridge if they told her how amazing it was? Probably not. Depressing thought. Bad. Coffee, good. She took another long sip and exhaled the idea away.

"Anyway, for two... dang. Just, dang," she mutters to nobody at all, "This is going to be a really big mess if nobody does anything."

With a yawn, she straightens up and fishes a camera out of her purse. No, it's not a telescope but quite frankly can you imagine how silly it would look carrying something like that around the harbor? And also, have you seen (http://1.media.collegehumor.cvcdn.com/40/61/5e8f292613bbf12e0d84b0afc5982550.gif) the zoom these things manage nowadays? Mental note: pull that function out sometime and stuff it in a pair of glasses. The applications are limitless and nearly as cool as x-ray vision in a locker room. She smiles, and looks a bit deeper at the situation.

Zoom! Enhance! Enhance!

So yep, you can see pretty clearly, up there on the bridge's lower surface: Bite marks. Bite marks? About a human sized mouth, you'd reckon, if that human's mouth was full of metal-corroding acid. They've been doing some serious gnawing, there's about a meter of solid metal chewed through. There's your problem.

A little further analysis you can pick out and perceive trace elements of the acidic saliva around the place; you're even able to break down the chemical compound into recognisable formula. You've got a pretty good scientific mind but the correlation's a little obscure, give me an intelligence+science at -3 to draw a correlation between that and where it might occur in the wild.

[Raz_Fox]

Gabriella slows to a comfortable stroll, her feet bare on the bridge's surface. She doesn't have too much time, seeing as she needs to freshen up and get ready for work, but any information she can provide Keynes with will bring them closer to fixing this, and quick. Spirits don't do well in human bodies. There are translation errors.

Humans are amphibious beings, and spirits are beings of magic and impulse and emotion, unused to having bodies. To allow possession is foolish; to allow it on a large scale, inexcusable.

So she looks carefully at the bridge's place in the sacred city-pattern, the flow of energy that runs through it, in an attempt to discover where the leak is and what complications may ensue from this damaging of the pattern.

[Casting Sacred Geometry, three free Reach: instantaneous casting time, advanced duration, advanced scale. Prime+Gnosis is 4 dice.
[roll0]]

[Anarion]

Ah, darkness, what a classic. Sometimes the simple problems are worth appreciating. Still, Keynes knows exactly when it happened and we've got the option for a clear viewing of the show just by getting to the right place. This is good progress, I think. The skillset for getting up a bridge tower isn't terribly complex either, but it is the specialty of either of his friends more than himself. Lily, in particular, seems like she would have no problem with a few mundane locks and cameras. Keynes smiles to himself. Tinkering with security...she might even enjoy herself, perish the thought.

He sees Lily toying with her phone camera there. Taking a monument shot, most people would imagine. All these amateur photographers. He wonders if some Obrimos in California set the whole smart phone thing in motion so that nobody would bat an eye at mages using their magical tools everywhere. If so, it was genius.

"How goes the photography, Lily? Get any good pictures? I've got one I want to take, a real bang-up panorama shot, but I need to get up on top of the bridge to take it, just about to where you're looking, I think."

[PhoeKun]

"You, what? You want to what? Hold on... what? What the Hello Kitty is..."

She doesn't bother to pull her face away from the camera. It's just like she said: a puzzle! A puzzle with bite marks and acid spit and whatever the heck kind of thing would climb around down there and do... that. Her lips purse and she makes the sort of pouty face she gets whenever something doesn't line up quite right and she has to really work at it. As a bonus, this little adrenaline surge has done wonders for getting her going this morning.

"I'm thinking!" she announces, and her voice is bright and chipper.

(Intelligence plus Science -3: [roll0])

[Thanqol]

Gabriella slows to a comfortable stroll, her feet bare on the bridge's surface. She doesn't have too much time, seeing as she needs to freshen up and get ready for work, but any information she can provide Keynes with will bring them closer to fixing this, and quick. Spirits don't do well in human bodies. There are translation errors.

Humans are amphibious beings, and spirits are beings of magic and impulse and emotion, unused to having bodies. To allow possession is foolish; to allow it on a large scale, inexcusable.

So she looks carefully at the bridge's place in the sacred city-pattern, the flow of energy that runs through it, in an attempt to discover where the leak is and what complications may ensue from this damaging of the pattern.

[Casting Sacred Geometry, three free Reach: instantaneous casting time, advanced duration, advanced scale. Prime+Gnosis is 4 dice.
[roll0]]

You already knew this, of course, but this bridge is the lynchpin that ties Australia's highway network together. It's the nexus of a vast work of geomantic engineering. With the flow of mana visible to your eyes you can see that there must be a hole in the bottom that is pouring vast quantities of raw energy directly into the harbour below. It's probably not a big hole but the pressure is high enough from the bridge that it's causing a massive disruption.

As to where that mana is going to go? The ley lines in the harbour itself are carved by the ferries. You can see the magic being swept up in the white-water wake of the green and yellow sea buses; where they dock is where it's going to pool. The big ferry ports of Manly and Circular Quay are the big sites, but you can see lines going to the Botanical Gardens, Darling Harbour - and the big ugly new casino that's being built just over there. In fact, the casino seems to be sucking up a lot more than anywhere else - you can feel a citric tang of another Mage down there, someone who's taking advantage of this crisis to fill his boots.


"You, what? You want to what? Hold on... what? What the Hello Kitty is..."

She doesn't bother to pull her face away from the camera. It's just like she said: a puzzle! A puzzle with bite marks and acid spit and whatever the heck kind of thing would climb around down there and do... that. Her lips purse and she makes the sort of pouty face she gets whenever something doesn't line up quite right and she has to really work at it. As a bonus, this little adrenaline surge has done wonders for getting her going this morning.

"I'm thinking!" she announces, and her voice is bright and chipper.

(Intelligence plus Science -3: [roll0])

Insects? Insects come to mind about this, but as to which ones? There are so many of the ugly little jerks, with so many ways to eat, tear or ruin things. You're not able to place it specifically. Maybe get a sample and show it to a scientist. There aren't many insects with a human-shaped mouth but there aren't many humans who can spit acid either, so you're certainly dealing with something pretty weird.

[Anarion]

"Lily, you seem like you're thinking quite hard there, and so early in the morning. Maybe you could use a little pick me up, mm? Get those gears in your head running up to snuff and all that." And I'm already putting a hand on her shoulder to show my support.

[Quantum flux rote: 8, 9, 10, 5, 8, 4, 3 and 10 again is a 7. Exceptional Success (would like a condition for an arcane beat)
-using reach to shift the primary factor to potency since it doesn't need to last that long, and also instant cast.

Negates 2 dice worth of penalties and gives Lily an extra 2 dice for aiming while she thought about the problem. 8, 8, 10, 6 7.]

[Thanqol]

"Lily, you seem like you're thinking quite hard there, and so early in the morning. Maybe you could use a little pick me up, mm? Get those gears in your head running up to snuff and all that." And I'm already putting a hand on her shoulder to show my support.

[Quantum flux rote: 8, 9, 10, 5, 8, 4, 3 and 10 again is a 7. Exceptional Success (would like a condition for an arcane beat)
-using reach to shift the primary factor to potency since it doesn't need to last that long, and also instant cast.

Negates 2 dice worth of penalties and gives Lily an extra 2 dice for aiming while she thought about the problem. 8, 8, 10, 6 7.]

A second after you do that, a discarded National Geographic magazine, carried by the morning breeze, sails gracefully through the air and smacks Lily in the face. It falls open, by total coincidence, to a page about formic acid (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Formic_acid). Produced by certain kinds of ants, hence the name.

After 10% concentration, formic acid becomes increasingly corrosive to metal. It'd have to be pretty damn concentrated to let somebody masticate their way through an iron girder, though, which points you right back at the supernatural. But it's organic in origin which strongly suggests some sort of cryptid or maybe a Life mage with a really weird hobby.

Old fashioned alchemists distilled formic acid by dissolving sh*tloads of ants together, as the article anecdotally comments on. Even if there's not a guy somewhere throwing buckets of ants into a giant cauldron and cackling (and you never know), it's still pretty likely they got the idea from somewhere with a lot of ants.

Either way, Lily, this has captured your attention. Take the Condition Obsessed, which gives you 9-again on anything to do to finding out what the hell is going on here. You lose 10-again on anything unrelated to this until you figure it out though.

[PhoeKun]

"Listen jerk, just because I'm not a morning person doesn't mean I... ack!" Lost and forgotten are all thoughts of maintaining dignity, blown away in an instant by an errant NatGeo to the face. Ick. Agh. Bleh. Wait... Score!

Lily bursts into laughter, doubling over and only keeping her feet by the grace of the railing she's still leaning against, bless its little heart. There's a good 30 seconds lost to hysterical giggling; all in all, the thrill of the hunt and the mental images it produces are just too much to bear.

"Well, there you have it. Obvious in retrospect, really. Shouldn't've... well, I mean... oh well. But was it giant ants, I wonder, or just a giant's worth of ants? It's a mystery, Key. I've got the how, but why now, brown cow? And which why, at that? Like, you know those guys that just, uh, eat planes and stuff? As a hobby? Why would you do that here? Or maybe it's a super duper huge ant. It's not, that's impossible. Giant ants are impossible, they'd crush themselves under the weight of their exoskeletons. It's just stupid. But pretend it wasn't stupid. Then it's basically a coincidence, only, why would it, y'know... stop? Man, this is weird.

And she laughed again, smiling like the sun.

[Anarion]

Keynes smiles as the magazine cuts off Lily's imperious pronouncement, and smiles even more broadly as she gets excited. Excited Lily was his favorite Lily.

"Giant ants, you don't say? Sounds positively bracing. Want to help me get to the top of the bridge? Whatever it was, it was at 10:45 last night, and if I can get up there, I can get the slow-mo playback going and give you all the details you could want. I thought you might enjoy tinkering with some security cameras, too."

[Raz_Fox]

There are different conjunctions of Mages, in much the same way that there are different traffic patterns at certain times of day, or in the same way that the stars and their wandering shepherds meet and make conjunction at different points in a person's life. This is not the evening conjunction, the after-day-jobs conjunction that allows for moonlighting and mischief. This is meeting beneath the Sun (a symbol that implies revelation, true, but also precision and purpose, and the murdering of dragons, not that there are likely to be any here) and so Compass takes advantage of it.

If this had not been clear before, let us state specifically and up front: Compass and Gabriella are different people. They are the two faces of Janus, one looking inward to the household, one watching outwards over the door. They are Clark Kent and Superman, in that one is the person constructed, the other is a disguise that reveals. So this is Compass, surfacing briefly in order to take advantage of her star entering the house of Gemini, or two companions met upon the road.

She enters our scene at the trailing end of Lily's speech, catching something about men who eat bridges for fun and the impossibility of giant ants. She doesn't skip a beat, our Compass. Keynes, he points out that he can see what happened (and that is one of the many reasons that Compass, she keeps this unassuming magician around).

But that will require access to the maintenance areas, yes? We have not forgotten that small detail. This is the sort of problem that Compass, she can fix. She knows people, and polite requests made to the right sort of people go very far indeed. "If you give me an hour or two," she says, giving Keynes the sort of look that means she very much intended the pun, "I will provide a temporary access pass for an architectural blogger interested in the bridge's composition, and her plus one. If you," and here Lily is indicated, "Cannot provide patching, I will have to design a Working for it. All the magic of the road, of the connection, leaking out... not good for the bay. Not good for the city. Unacceptable."

[Anarion]

"Well, I suppose if you want to go in legally." Keynes shrugs to show he's fine with Compass' strange fits of whimsy.

[Thanqol]

But that will require access to the maintenance areas, yes? We have not forgotten that small detail. This is the sort of problem that Compass, she can fix. She knows people, and polite requests made to the right sort of people go very far indeed. "If you give me an hour or two," she says, giving Keynes the sort of look that means she very much intended the pun, "I will provide a temporary access pass for an architectural blogger interested in the bridge's composition, and her plus one. If you," and here Lily is indicated, "Cannot provide patching, I will have to design a Working for it. All the magic of the road, of the connection, leaking out... not good for the bay. Not good for the city. Unacceptable."

So there are a bunch of moving parts there but you've got the pieces - using your City Hall contacts to get a guest pass is entirely within the realm of mundane abilities. But the most basic restriction is you gotta wait until 9am for the government offices to open, and then for a bunch of emails to be passed around and a physical access card dispatched. We're talking a manipulation+politics roll at -3 to make that happen by noon, exceptional success by 9:30.

The plus side is that an actual government-issued access card in your own names is going to be a really solid defense against Spirits who have protecting the bridge as part of their portfolio (and much the same for any Sleeper authorities). The downside is that this whole mana flood thing is gonna continue unabated for a few hours - and other Magi might try to make more direct attempts at ingress during the delay.

[PhoeKun]

"Hi Lily, good morning! Your hair looks lovely today," she starts, in her best impression of Compass' voice, endearingly inaccurate as it may be. She turns her head and smiles before continuing in a new falsetto that must represent herself, "Oh, thank you so much! You look great too; I wish I looked that good covered in sweat!"

A laugh. "Oh, you tease. Say, you know that bridge that's gone all icky with formic acid? It's doing bad things to the bay, do you think you can use your super awesome wizard powers to fix it? You're so talented I'm sure you could do it in a jiffy!"

"Of course, bestest friend in the whole wide world! I know how important this stuff is to you, and I love how you asked so nicely and didn't even once imply I was a miserable screw up and you secretly assumed you'd have to clean up after my failures. Life's so much better when you have friends!"

Finally she turned to properly look at her companions, and flashed her winningest(est) smile.

"Anyway, isn't the bridge usually, like, open to tourists and junk? I thought I saw them climbing it all the time. I guess maybe signing up for that is slower than pretending I'm a... why is it always a blogger? Why can't I... I mean, it's so early in the morning, hardly anybody around and stuff. Wouldn't it be way way faster to just sort of walk up and do it while nobody's looking? Like, I don't want to get you in trouble or anything, but I feel like this is one of those 'sooner rather than later' kinds of things, where we do the thing before somebody comes along to do something to it that isn't nice. Not too many bridge doctors 'round these parts, but plenty what have a use for her tears, you know? Yeah? And stuff?"

She fidgets nervously.

[Thanqol]

"Anyway, isn't the bridge usually, like, open to tourists and junk? I thought I saw them climbing it all the time.

Some information that's freely available, either to know offhand or find with a little searching: the top side is open, but we're talking the bridge's seedy underbelly with all the maintenance passages and utility lines and such. For security we're talking mostly locked and alarmed doors, some cameras and a security awareness training course for the staff. Probably no standing guards but any call that goes out will probably be to a counterterrorism team.

[Raz_Fox]

A laugh. "Oh, you tease. Say, you know that bridge that's gone all icky with formic acid? It's doing bad things to the bay, do you think you can use your super awesome wizard powers to fix it? You're so talented I'm sure you could do it in a jiffy!"

"Of course, bestest friend in the whole wide world! I know how important this stuff is to you, and I love how you asked so nicely and didn't even once imply I was a miserable screw up and you secretly assumed you'd have to clean up after my failures. Life's so much better when you have friends!"

Finally she turned to properly look at her companions, and flashed her winningest(est) smile.

"Anyway, isn't the bridge usually, like, open to tourists and junk? I thought I saw them climbing it all the time. I guess maybe signing up for that is slower than pretending I'm a... why is it always a blogger? Why can't I... I mean, it's so early in the morning, hardly anybody around and stuff. Wouldn't it be way way faster to just sort of walk up and do it while nobody's looking? Like, I don't want to get you in trouble or anything, but I feel like this is one of those 'sooner rather than later' kinds of things, where we do the thing before somebody comes along to do something to it that isn't nice. Not too many bridge doctors 'round these parts, but plenty what have a use for her tears, you know? Yeah? And stuff?"

She fidgets nervously.

Around about the time that Lily's impersonation shifts gears from being endearing to being cutting, Compass's eyes shift from looking directly at Lily- she's good at keeping eye contact, the sort of person who does it naturally and without thinking- and fixes on a point just over Lily's shoulder, as priorities shift. This is evidently not a good morning; tensions are running under the surface, pressure has been put on a place thought firm. Bridge isn't the only thing leaking.

Her eyes focus back on Lily, giving her full attention while she points out that the bridge needs to be fixed, yes, sooner rather than later. She waits to be sure Lily has finished speaking before replying: "You're right, Lily; I apologize. My head is in the clouds, trying to figure out what the contingency plan for the contingency should be, when we should be focusing on whether Plan A will work first, and save all the worrying for if the leak's not containable by repairing the original point of damage."

She looks back to the bridge, trying to keep her breathing level. This is wrong. Not the way they're trying to approach fixing the problem, but the problem itself. How much of the city's energy is leaking out, minute by minute, spooling out instead of feeding back into itself? How is this flaw in the grid going to affect long-term planning on the north side of the Bay? It puts her on edge, lurking just beneath the good buzz of a successful workout and knowing that there's work to be done.

"The leak's underneath the bridge, which means that it's going to be accessible via the maintenance tunnels, which require proper municipal clearance to enter. The tunnels are locked, which is not a difficulty for us; alarmed, which I could redirect; monitored remotely, which I can also redirect; and possibly in use, which is more difficult, since the staff will be trained to let Counterterrorism know as soon as they get a suspicion that something's wrong. You're right that it would be better to fix this quickly, but a lack of subtlety will bring trouble down on our heads - and once we have a government pass, we'll have all the time we need for extended study, if necessary. Your thoughts, Keynes?"

[Anarion]

Your thoughts, Keynes?"

"Yes, well, a government pass would be jolly good, but I can't see why we can't do both, don't think you think, Compass? I, for one, think it entirely within the realm of our collective skills to walk into the secured area of a bridge without being noticed or remarked upon whether by man, spirit, or machine. Do be sure that you're thorough in your magic though, we wouldn't want anything getting repaired partway through. I'm quite anxious to get up to the wound so that I can watch what happened in live action while my spell is running, and I'm certain that we didn't get Lily out of bed at such an abominable hour just so she could stand around reading National Geographic."

[PhoeKun]

"Oh, right. The whole terrorism... thing. Hrm." Lily waves her hand absentmindedly in the direction of the bridge, as though that somehow helped explain things. She starts off toward the bridge, thinks better of it, and doubles back to exactly one step further back than she'd originally been standing.

Think. Pout. Think. Pout. The quiet tap, tap, tap of her left foot.

"Well, gosh. I don't want to be a terrorist. And honestly I never really liked spy movies that much, they always like... you know? I'll tell you what, though. A thing like this is basically a giant artery, and it is just gushing all over the place right now. Fixing it will definitely restore the natural flow, and if you care about this city keeping its status quo and junk, you want it done hours ago, not hours from now. But! It's also a fact that we're nowhere near the point of accurate speculation about the long term effects of this. If the city's drained, maybe the bay will flourish and have a deeper resonance that more people can tap into. It could spawn another Sydney Event, or it could explode the area, or maybe cause the Antpocalypse. It won't do nothing. Further research is required.

I don't know what I want. I dunno what to say. Slipping in, right now, putting in a patch, that's literally free. But maybe it's not right. Maybe..."

She shrugs, helpless.

"I'm just gonna go. Stop me if it sounds smart."

[Thanqol]

"Should we stop this?" is a reasonable question. The Bridge is obviously important but it's not like any power group has openly claimed it - for all you know it's a Seer thing. The main reason no one has interacted with it before now is the same reason no one plays around with the mains power line - certainly no one else is up there risking their neck to fix the damn thing.

[Anarion]

"I think not knowing is half the fun, don't you? But for now, my good madam, I shall plan to accompany you unless our fine compatriot has some further concerns she would like to raise." I mime walking arm in arm with Lily to the bridge for a morning constitutional, though I rather suspect she'll be having none of that.

[Thanqol]

"I think not knowing is half the fun, don't you? But for now, my good madam, I shall plan to accompany you unless our fine compatriot has some further concerns she would like to raise." I mime walking arm in arm with Lily to the bridge for a morning constitutional, though I rather suspect she'll be having none of that.

So, where are you going? What's the point of entry?

Neither of you are particularly tuned into the Spirit World so you're not able to get anything specific out of the rush of energy running through the bridge. Compass' arcane senses are freaking out at the flow of Essence in this place; the Shadow is close here and the walls between worlds is paper thin.

(A point on the Shadow and the Gauntlet: The Gauntlet, the barrier between the Material World and the Shadow, is strong in cities and busy places and weak in the countryside. This isn't because technology interferes with the Shadow - that's absurd, if anything it's the opposite. When human emotions and energy generate Essence it flows 'downhill' into the Shadow - the more Essence the faster the flow, so in the heart of a city where millions of people cluster and the flow of energy is especially intense trying to cross between worlds is like walking up a hill into a water cannon. In places of emotional stillness the flow is more gentle and the barriers can be crossed more easily - but perversely, these between spaces have few and weak Spirits because there isn't a flow of Essence to feed on.

Here, on the Bridge, the sheer amounts of mana in the air is causing that Essence to hover like fog rather than water. This means the barrier between worlds is virtually nonexistent - treat this place as a Verge for any Spirit related magic and a careless step might send you into the Shadow or bring a Spirit to the Material.)

As the worlds distort and the barriers wobble you all catch glimpses of strange things. Now, it seems like instead of iron you walk upon vast bladed scales, and now it seems like you walk on a rainbow that runs for miles. The heavens above seem to storm and writhe with pregnant stormclouds and a blink reveals clear blue skies. Lightning flashes in the distant night-time sky and the city is a sculpture in violet illuminated by a million glowing eyes.

[Anarion]

So, where are you going? What's the point of entry?


I'm interested in seeing the point of damage so I can watch the firsthand account and pass on the details to Lily and Compass. I know when it happened and where it happened, so it's getting to that spot to see just what happened. Personally, I haven't a clue about how bridge blueprints work though. That sort of technical thing is Lily's bailiwick So let's just look at each door and see where they lead before going in.

I walk along the bridge, stroll really, going round and about the tower where pedestrians can go, are expected to go. And perhaps I'm a writer, or a sketch artist, or who knows what. I pull out my little silver pen, the morning sun glints along the handle as I start scribbling on a crumpled up piece of paper from my pocket, letting my hand flow freely and not looking at what I write. I trust it will tell me the answer to my question as I circle each door, asking it where I should go, what will get me to my aim, what I might find behind there. "How do I get to the top of the tower, how do I reach the scene of the damage?" I intone in high speech, gibberish to any listener, a mad old writer cackling and making notes to himself for his next book, to be sure. "What will I find if I go through this door? Which route is the safest route, the swiftest route? Do they align?"

[I cast a divination with two yantras. Reach to be instant, to allow for specific answers as needed, and casting at sensory range. I get 3 potency, so 3 questions, interpret the above as appropriate in that light.]
[roll0]
8 on the 10 again. That's an exceptional, so I'll take an extra question via a step up in potency. 4 questions.]

[Thanqol]

I'm interested in seeing the point of damage so I can watch the firsthand account and pass on the details to Lily and Compass. I know when it happened and where it happened, so it's getting to that spot to see just what happened. Personally, I haven't a clue about how bridge blueprints work though. That sort of technical thing is Lily's bailiwick So let's just look at each door and see where they lead before going in.

I walk along the bridge, stroll really, going round and about the tower where pedestrians can go, are expected to go. And perhaps I'm a writer, or a sketch artist, or who knows what. I pull out my little silver pen, the morning sun glints along the handle as I start scribbling on a crumpled up piece of paper from my pocket, letting my hand flow freely and not looking at what I write. I trust it will tell me the answer to my question as I circle each door, asking it where I should go, what will get me to my aim, what I might find behind there. "How do I get to the top of the tower, how do I reach the scene of the damage?" I intone in high speech, gibberish to any listener, a mad old writer cackling and making notes to himself for his next book, to be sure. "What will I find if I go through this door? Which route is the safest route, the swiftest route? Do they align?"

[I cast a divination with two yantras. Reach to be instant, to allow for specific answers as needed, and casting at sensory range. I get 3 potency, so 3 questions, interpret the above as appropriate in that light.]
[roll0]
8 on the 10 again. That's an exceptional, so I'll take an extra question via a step up in potency. 4 questions.]

How do I reach the scene of the damage? Left, down, forwards, left, forwards until you see the daylight.

What will I find if I go through this door? You see nothing but empty tunnels, but you see Compass' eyes dart wildly as she takes in unseen creatures.

The safest route: Back, through City Hall, returning authorized and shielded by laws and passes.

The swiftest route: Climb over the side and shimmy across the underside of the bridge like an insect. Dangerous, but this path has been walked before.

[Anarion]

"Haha, jolly good!" I hold up the wrinkled sheet of paper to Lily and, I hope very much, to Compass who has kept pace with us. "So, up for an old-fashioned shimmy, old sports?"

[Raz_Fox]

Compass has indeed kept pace. It is a bad idea, really, but it's the best bad idea that the Third Option (which she insists would be a fantastic name for the cabal) has available right now. Compromise when you have to, so that when you need to put your foot down, it's important and is treated as such by your colleagues. All the same, she's feeling a slight shiver of trepidation: she doesn't exactly carry most of her tools while exercising, and any delays or emergencies during this escapade may cause unacceptable lateness in getting to work on time.

This is, right now, not her operation. Her role is to provide safety from the peering cyclops-eyes of the video cameras, to silence the alarms coiled up and waiting within doors, and to speak to the world on the other side of the Gauntlet if necessary. Her cabalmates can take point.

"Be careful," she does say, softly. Her voice is heavily London-accented, a tilt away from the natural cadence of Sydney. "The wall's thin as paper. Too much flash will draw attention."


Neither of you are particularly tuned into the Spirit World so you're not able to get anything specific out of the rush of energy running through the bridge. Compass' arcane senses are freaking out at the flow of Essence in this place; the Shadow is close here and the walls between worlds is paper thin.

As the worlds distort and the barriers wobble you all catch glimpses of strange things. Now, it seems like instead of iron you walk upon vast bladed scales, and now it seems like you walk on a rainbow that runs for miles. The heavens above seem to storm and writhe with pregnant stormclouds and a blink reveals clear blue skies. Lightning flashes in the distant night-time sky and the city is a sculpture in violet illuminated by a million glowing eyes.

Compass knows this bridge, runs it often. How different is this than normal? Is this a new and perhaps unwelcome change to the spiritual health of the structure, or just business as normal on the vast iron linchpin?

[Thanqol]

Compass has indeed kept pace. It is a bad idea, really, but it's the best bad idea that the Third Option (which she insists would be a fantastic name for the cabal) has available right now. Compromise when you have to, so that when you need to put your foot down, it's important and is treated as such by your colleagues. All the same, she's feeling a slight shiver of trepidation: she doesn't exactly carry most of her tools while exercising, and any delays or emergencies during this escapade may cause unacceptable lateness in getting to work on time.

This is, right now, not her operation. Her role is to provide safety from the peering cyclops-eyes of the video cameras, to silence the alarms coiled up and waiting within doors, and to speak to the world on the other side of the Gauntlet if necessary. Her cabalmates can take point.

I'll need some sort of Forces spell roll to disable the alarms. However this is civilian municipal electronics, not, like, hardened military tech or a billion dollar bank vault security system so there aren't any penalties or anything.

Are you specifically opening yourself to perceiving immaterial spirits and the spirit world as a whole?


Compass knows this bridge, runs it often. How different is this than normal? Is this a new and perhaps unwelcome change to the spiritual health of the structure, or just business as normal on the vast iron linchpin?

This is definitely new. This power is all there it's just ordinarily travelling inside the bridge, like lightning through a cable - safe, separate. Now it's all in the open and in the air.

[PhoeKun]

"I told you, I don't like spy movies." Lily huffs indignantly as she stares over the edge of the bridge and contemplates just what the heck an "old fashioned shimmy" is, and how it differed from a suicide climb down a phase shifting bridge vomiting mana all over the place.

Shrug. It's what the French like to call "better than nothing". But better than nothing could really use a helping hand. She opens up her purse and digs around inside of it. Man, there's so much stuff in here, where could... aha! It takes her a moment, but out of the rumbling of the junk Lily fishes a couple of magnets and holds them triumphantly in her palm. Just the thing! If the way Compass was looking around was any indication, the safer way down that involves walking (y'know, with your feet) wasn't actually all that much safer.

Speaking of which... Compass. Lily's eyes open and she notices her friend there on the bridge with her as if for the first time. She flashes a guilty smile.

"Hey, um, by the way. Uh, thanks. I know this isn't how you'd really prefer to be doing things. But you're here, you know? I appreciate that. It's really just... we're friends, right? So when you tell me that this is bad for the city, I trust you. And then," she gestures with her un-magneted hand, "All of this. I guess this is the wrong time to talk about it. I dunno. I was mean earlier, I feel bad about it. Thanks for having faith in me, k? I'll make you proud."

She claps her hands together as if in prayer, and caresses the tarnished silver ring on her finger. Theeeeere is its. Pull it apart, it's surprisingly easy. Push them together, pull them apart. Again. Again. Cup it in your hand, don't drop it! She rolls the magnets around in her hand and smiles again, stooping down to brush her ring against each of the group's shoes in turn. So what if it looks weird? It's perfectly safe! And if any of them knew a better way to make magnet boots, she'd like to see them try!

[Wonderful Machine: Crafts+Matter+Gnosis = 8, +1 Ring (Coin, Dedicated Tool). Reach: Instant cast, Reach: Advanced Scale, Reach: Advanced Duration. [roll0]]

She clacks the magnets together and the fall apart all on their own, useless. She taps her boot against the side of the railing, and watches as it sticks. She looks at her friends and she grins.

[Thanqol]

[Paradox chance dice: 9. You're good.]

So, turns out magnet boot climbing along the bottom of the bridge is a straight up good idea. The Sleeper authorities straight up have not guarded against that at all, meaning that the spirit world won't have either - and it makes sense if this was how Ant Man did it. So by taking this route you bypass pretty much any security, good work!

One catch, though. It does mean taking a walk upside-down over a certain-death drop and trusting a whole damn lot in your shoelaces. Anyone who's taking the Inverted Harbour Bridge Climb, roll resolve+composure at a -1. Success means you keep your sh*t together, failure means you should note down a condition like terrified or whatever seems appropriate. Hope no one's scared of heights!

[Anarion]

[roll0]

Teetering on the edge of the precipice. Would it be too corny to say we're like leaves in the wind? Maybe like stalactites in a cave, since our grip is so sure? Real stalactites, mind you, not those ones in games that fall down as soon as the hero walks nearby, no sir. I let the wind whining through the steel encompass me like a blanket and admire the view. I doubt more than a handful of construction workers have ever seen the harbor from this angle, and the beauty and majesty of it is enough to get oneself lost in it. Perhaps a small piece of real truth, there in the grandeur of the morning sunrise? But, alas, I cannot gaze out at the flowing water for long, my sight is directed towards a darker hour, as I put the video of the night on rewind until I get to the right time. Can I see the ant-man along the route? Can I follow his footsteps? Show me, if we've found just the right way to go, just what happened here last night and who we're dealing with.

[PhoeKun]

[roll0]

Never talk big and then back down because it involves hanging upside down by your shoelaces on the underside of a bridge. Never tell your friend 'I've got this' if you're not willing to maybe fall off the underside of said bridge. Never doubt your own handiwork; after all, it's yours.

[Raz_Fox]

[[roll0]]

Magnetic shoes. Ingenious as ever, Lily; Compass provides her with an approving nod and steps out to test the boots with only the slightest lurch in her stomach. Gravity is waiting down there, pooled in the waters of the bay, tugging at her and asking her to fall, to surrender herself to the wind and the wave. But magnetism says: stay here, let your shoes keep ahold of the metal, and let your laces stay tight around your ankles.

Thank God she wasn't wearing a skirt.

[Thanqol]

Well, I suppose it's not the weirdest thing ya'll have done.



Teetering on the edge of the precipice. Would it be too corny to say we're like leaves in the wind? Maybe like stalactites in a cave, since our grip is so sure? Real stalactites, mind you, not those ones in games that fall down as soon as the hero walks nearby, no sir. I let the wind whining through the steel encompass me like a blanket and admire the view. I doubt more than a handful of construction workers have ever seen the harbor from this angle, and the beauty and majesty of it is enough to get oneself lost in it. Perhaps a small piece of real truth, there in the grandeur of the morning sunrise? But, alas, I cannot gaze out at the flowing water for long, my sight is directed towards a darker hour, as I put the video of the night on rewind until I get to the right time. Can I see the ant-man along the route? Can I follow his footsteps? Show me, if we've found just the right way to go, just what happened here last night and who we're dealing with.

So your senses are displaced in time and you are indeed following the previous traveler's road. So here are the facts:

After dark yesterday something man-sized and shaped flies erratically over the harbor and lands on the side of the bridge. It has large, dusty insectile wings and bulbous eyes that flash camera-red in the gleaming lights of the city - further details are hard to make out because it's dark, but you've got a good impression. It might be able to pass for a very hairy person if it wore heavy clothing and sunglasses.

It shuffles and snuffles its way across the bridge for a while, hanging by its hands from the metal, until it settles on a spot. Then it starts licking the bridge, each lick leaving a film of viscous acid. Once the metal is softened up it takes a bite, chews, and spits the slurry into the water. It does this all night and then, when the sky first starts to lighten with the dawn, it detaches itself and flies away into the night.

Luckily, you don't have to guess where it's going - you're an Initiate of Space and you can see clearly it's heading home, to the Sydney Taronga Zoo, which is within visual range of the bridge - directly east on Sydney Harbour.


Oh - that's right, you're a specialist in weird magical Occult things, aren't you Keynes? An Intelligence+Occult roll at -2 might get you some useful details.

[Anarion]

Oh - that's right, you're a specialist in weird magical Occult things, aren't you Keynes? An Intelligence+Occult roll at -2 might get you some useful details.

Well, my real specialty is temporal phenomena, but I admit I do dabble around in everything and this certainly qualifies under the category of "everything" I'd say.
[roll0] [If I can eliminate penalties with my fate rote, I can roll another 2 dice as well.]

[Thanqol]

Well, my real specialty is temporal phenomena, but I admit I do dabble around in everything and this certainly qualifies under the category of "everything" I'd say.
[roll0] [If I can eliminate penalties with my fate rote, I can roll another 2 dice as well.]

So you've heard of the Mothman (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mothman)then. Pretty much everything on that Wikipedia page checks out. I'll leave the 'why', the 'how' and the 'seriously, mothman?' to you.

[Anarion]

So you've heard of the Mothman (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mothman)then. Pretty much everything on that Wikipedia page checks out. I'll leave the 'why', the 'how' and the 'seriously, mothman?' to you.

"Oh, good gravy." I'd slap my forehead, but the whole thing seems somehow off when one is suspended upside down by magnets.

"I don't suppose any of the rest of you have heard of The Mothman? Capital fellow, caused a bridge collapse in the States some years prior, makes static in electronics to boot. He was here last night, we're walking in his very steps, I dare say. And he flew off when he was done to the Taronga zoo. Quite a good bit of photography, I'd say."

I look to Lily. She seemed pretty intent on getting up here too and I don't want to cut off her investigation just because I've got a plan for where to go next.

[PhoeKun]

"You know, I keep asking but you never tell me," Lilly shrugs and reaches out to caress the acid-worn steel of the bridge, "Where did you pick up that accent? Our little ProCompsaganthus went and learned in London, but your story never seems to fit. I mean, I loved Harry Potter as much as the next little girl, but all the spit-spot jolly good cracker... um... barrel stuff, it's not a great look. Doesn't really mesh with the whole professional veneer or the... well. You know."

She falters for the hundredth time in one hundred attempts at this little spiel. Of course, having heard it one hundred times, a man like Keynes would know she doesn't mean much by it. He'd know the words underneath the words, 'That's really interesting, sorry, I am a little busy and can't process everything you just said right now, I will weigh in later. And also that was the best nickname I have ever given Compass, tonight we will drink sangria and toast its brilliance'.

Because the 'how' was solved before they got there, and the 'what' wasn't super actionable at the moment, and 'why' was a mystery better left for people not named Lily, and none of these questions were promises she'd made to good friends. So, to business. What's the extent of the damage? Will it kill the bridge, if left alone? What kind of scale is the damage spread across, and how large an area would she have to affect in order to will the bridge back into its normal, less devastatingly leaky state?

[Thanqol]

Because the 'how' was solved before they got there, and the 'what' wasn't super actionable at the moment, and 'why' was a mystery better left for people not named Lily, and none of these questions were promises she'd made to good friends. So, to business. What's the extent of the damage? Will it kill the bridge, if left alone? What kind of scale is the damage spread across, and how large an area would she have to affect in order to will the bridge back into its normal, less devastatingly leaky state?

The damage is about what a dedicated human can chew through in the course of an evening at a pretty sedate pace. We're talking 'about a small room' (-2 on the scale factors) - a success on a matter 3 spell to Weave the bridge back together will restore the damage. Downside is that this, again, is obvious enough magic to trigger the Sleepers on the ground and you've already cast one such spell this scene so you've got a base Paradox pool of 3 dice 8-Again. Starting to get risky.

'Will it kill the bridge if left alone' is an interesting question. This wound alone won't but, through the senses of Death, you can see that this is intended to kill. If this is left as it is and the creature returns for a few more nights then the damage will accumulate and the bridge will die.

[PhoeKun]

Well then. Right. That's a thing. Intent to kill... she hadn't considered that a possibility. Honestly, that's a little disturbing. A bridge murderer. Better or worse than a giant insect? She didn't know. She starts to hum to hide her concern from her friends, but Lily never once could hum without starting to sing, too:

"I know that we are upside down
So hold your tongue and hear me out," She reaches out a hand and brushes her fingers against the chewed up underside of the bridge.

"I know that we were made to break, so what? I don't mind..."

She turns her head up to look at the bay far below her. So the bridge was another night or two away from death, if nothing is done. So here's another question: what's this actually doing to the water, to the beaches? Are the elements there all in expected proportions, or are they changing, have they changed? And is anything dying down there before its time?

[Anarion]

"You know, I keep asking but you never tell me," Lilly shrugs and reaches out to caress the acid-worn steel of the bridge, "Where did you pick up that accent?

"Oh, here and there, somewhere in Eastern Europe" I mutter, though Lily's hardly listening with her humming working it's way up to singing. I wonder if that was the answer I gave last time.

I work my way over to Compass, since Lily is busy and not to be interrupted. "So, my dear, you are perhaps uniquely suited from our vantage to help us prepare for what's next. You can see over the harbor, and off to the zoo where I think we ought to travel to track this mothman, and I wonder what it looks like to your sight. What is the unique flavor of the place, and how ought we to do our preparations for a fine walkabout at the zoo?"

[Thanqol]

Well then. Right. That's a thing. Intent to kill... she hadn't considered that a possibility. Honestly, that's a little disturbing. A bridge murderer. Better or worse than a giant insect? She didn't know. She starts to hum to hide her concern from her friends, but Lily never once could hum without starting to sing, too:

"I know that we are upside down
So hold your tongue and hear me out," She reaches out a hand and brushes her fingers against the chewed up underside of the bridge.

"I know that we were made to break, so what? I don't mind..."

She turns her head up to look at the bay far below her. So the bridge was another night or two away from death, if nothing is done. So here's another question: what's this actually doing to the water, to the beaches? Are the elements there all in expected proportions, or are they changing, have they changed? And is anything dying down there before its time?

The obviously relevant Arcana here are Spirit and Prime - that's the nature of the energy flowing through the Bridge and what's leaking out into the bay. But these are also the blindingly obvious first-order effects; there are perhaps more interesting secondary effects being caused all along the way.

Death Sight latches you on to the old theme park, Luna Park (https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/9a/03.01.2009-luna_entrance2.jpg), near the base of the bridge. The place looks nightmarish enough to the mortal eye but to Death Sight it looks like something out of Silent Hill; crumbling, decrepit and slightly unhinged. Green witch lights flash and boil across it as the energy from the bridge twists and awakens the ghosts that live there.

Matter Sight gives you a really odd set of data, almost nonsensical. There's a lot of moisture in the air, more than normal, and growing. If this keeps up it's going to rain soon. But this isn't caused by any physical or magical laws you know about; it'd like if Keynes met an ordinary person who could time travel by squinting really hard - obviously there's something going on here but the cause is something that's beyond you.

There may be other things going around across the bay but they're not the kind of thing that'll show up at this distance with those Arcana specifically.

[PhoeKun]

"You kill the lights I'll draw the blinds
Don't dull the sparkle in your eyes
I know that we were made to break, so what? I don't mind..."

Lily rocks her head back and forth to an imagined beat, digging in her purse (very very carefully) for her trusty fix-everything wrench. It costs her a pack of breath mints and the pang of guilt that comes with accidental littering, but nothing ventured nothing gained, right? Her words shift from English to the High Speech, although amusingly enough she manages to continue the tune laid out for her by Zedd and Hayley Williams while she does it. But it's no longer a song about finding connections in a state of impermanence, but a love song to a bridge and the ideal shape that belongs to it.

She twists her ring in a circle around her finger and brushes her hand along the various bite marks in the steel again. She fiddles with the wrench a bit and points it at the bridge like a scepter. She's reached the end of the chorus, and all that's left to her is the last couple of motions of the wrench, as though tightening bolts that have been bitten away. They'll be there again soon. Or her spleen will rupture and demons will come spilling out of her blood. Whichever comes first.

Sorry, random people who happen to be watching. Sorry for scaring you, and double extra sorry for what comes after that. But you'd hate the version where this doesn't happen a whole lot more come another day or two, you know?

((Spell: Albedo. Spend 1 Reach for Instant Cast, decrease dice by -2 to expand range to "a small room". Applying High Speech, Coin, and Rod yantras, and using Lily's ring as her dedicated magical tool to decrease the paradox dice by 2.

[roll0] Well, darn.))

[Thanqol]

Paradox Chance Dice: 3 (Calculated it wrong last time, there should only be 2 dice which are negated by your magical tool.)

The air is beginning to chill and the people on the ground are stopping their routines. Some of them are standing stock still, staring up at you, and as a ferry goes by all the people on board are standing silently aboard with their eyes fixed on the people under the bridge. They are not cheering, or gasping, or showing any sign of emotion at all - they are just blankly staring.

And through their eyes something else smiles. In that black void in the centre of every human eye lives the Abyss. It stands between the beauty of magic and the human brain, sitting in the window of the soul and eating everything that passes through.

A blast of wind steals the tune from your lips and interrupts the flow of motion and music. The place is lost. The opportunity exists to start again but every moment brings more attention.

Two obvious spells have been cast, and there are sleeper witnesses, giving a Paradox pool of 3 dice 8-again. Note you can spend a point of mana to reduce that by one. Attempting the same action again adds a -1 penalty for each attempt. If you feel especially daring you can use a Reach factor to increase the scale - saving you the -2 penalty but adding another Paradox dice.

[Anarion]

"Lily." That's all I say. There's a note of concern in my voice. I can feel the chill in the air, and the eyes upon us. Empty, unknowing eyes. Eyes that burn all thru touch. I won't stop her, Lily has to make her own decisions about taking risks. But I'm worried and it's in my voice in that one word.

[Raz_Fox]

I work my way over to Compass, since Lily is busy and not to be interrupted. "So, my dear, you are perhaps uniquely suited from our vantage to help us prepare for what's next. You can see over the harbor, and off to the zoo where I think we ought to travel to track this mothman, and I wonder what it looks like to your sight. What is the unique flavor of the place, and how ought we to do our preparations for a fine walkabout at the zoo?"

Compass- quiet, not quite brooding but closer than is usual- is looking out with her own Mage Sight, seeing whether there are any unexpected surprises this close to the damage. And she is thinking. Mothman. A moth who is a man. A man who is a moth? An aberration. No telling whether it's relatively natural or whether it's something from the wrong side of reality. Research afterwards.

"Give me a moment. Just a moment, though. Wouldn't do to stay too long here." Her lips twitch. "I might see a breach of government policy, which would be just dreadful." Beneath the joke, delivered without a hint of irony: the worry that the longer they stood here and did the impossible wantonly, the more attention they drew from that black, awful, inhuman pit. Not that she regretted coming up here, no. Just that the hairs on the back of her neck were starting to stiffen like the spikes in parking garages, rising of their own accord.

[Thanqol]

Compass- quiet, not quite brooding but closer than is usual- is looking out with her own Mage Sight, seeing whether there are any unexpected surprises this close to the damage. And she is thinking. Mothman. A moth who is a man. A man who is a moth? An aberration. No telling whether it's relatively natural or whether it's something from the wrong side of reality. Research afterwards.

"Give me a moment. Just a moment, though. Wouldn't do to stay too long here." Her lips twitch. "I might see a breach of government policy, which would be just dreadful." Beneath the joke, delivered without a hint of irony: the worry that the longer they stood here and did the impossible wantonly, the more attention they drew from that black, awful, inhuman pit. Not that she regretted coming up here, no. Just that the hairs on the back of her neck were starting to stiffen like the spikes in parking garages, rising of their own accord.

Forces sight is all about the heat, the lines, the energy, the gross physical movement of the physical world. Through it you can see another part of what Lily saw through eyes of Matter - that it is indeed going to rain. It's going to storm. The great lines in the sky are beginning to twist and boil and clench - it shall be soon and it shall be violent. But there is no reason for it in the physical world...

But Magic has no secrets from Prime; it is the grammar, the context, the particles and conjunctions. It can see from here, this point directly above the breach, that the spiritual energy flooding from the bridge has a powerful association with the weather. Every drop of essence that pours from the bridge's wound is working to break open the sky. Prime also identifies the presence of the Underworld at Luna Park - the incomprehensible pit of Stygia was strong before it began to drink the Bridge's blood. Soon it will have what it needs to act upon its intentions.

But Spirit, Spirit is the jewel of insight here, and the information arrays itself around you in glittering rainbow symbols. You can see that what flows through the great bridge, trapped on the inside of the steel and stone. It is a truly immense Spirit. Perhaps it is a God, if that is a name you will permit to the denizens of the world's strange Shadow. You can sense its correspondence with the weather and see its great, thrashing anger - and see as it pours its vast reserve of essence into the sky. It seeks to make its fury manifest in the forms of thunder and lightning and flood.

To delve deeper into this creature's secrets you will need specific magic - in particular, the Know Spirit spell, or else something of your own devising.

[Thanqol]

TEMPORAL PARADOX!

The flood of Essence shuts off like a car door slamming shut. As the bridge weaves and knits itself back together the outpouring of Essence abruptly stops - as does the storm buildup. Right now it looks like just a bad thunderstorm, not whatever apocalyptic vision was building up as the spirit inside the bridge gathered energy.

Compass, if you want to cast any spells on the thing inside, you have exactly one shot before it's buried again under tonnes of metal and asphalt.

The bridge is healed; the outpouring of mana and essence ceases, and the strange flickering lights of the Shadow begin to fade. This place is still a Verge, and will remain so for a while, but over time the Gauntlet will regain strength and coherence and the barriers will return. There are undoubtedly rogue spirits loose in the phenomenal world right now, not to mention whatever changes have been made to the bay, but the situation is abruptly stabilized.

[PhoeKun]

"Ta da!"

Lily twirls her wrench dramatically to finish the act with a flourish, nearly drops it into the bay, and sticks it back in her purse with a sheepish grin.

"Everybody loves a magic show. Anyway uh... so... I'm sure you guys noticed, but this whole shebang was totally building up an apocalypse level storm up here. 40 days and 40 nights, build an ark, send a dove, thunderbolt and lightning, very very frightening yadda yadda yadda. I have no idea why a bridge would be connected to that. None. Also surprising no one, the super creepy amusement park over yonder is actually super haunted and looks one good push away from going full-on Otherworld on our poor behinds. So, you know, that's a thing.

...Oh, and also your moth/man is deliberately trying to destroy the bridge. S'not just a midnight snack or whatever. In case you were curious. Yeah."

She awkwardly swings her arms from side to side, leaning like she'd like to leave, but not quite able to bring herself to be the first one to make a move to abandon the magnet boot secured position.

"Aaaaaaanyway... um. Well. That's just my professional opinion. I can hang out here and fix this thing until pigs band together to form an adorable little communist dystopia, but unless the bug is squashed, I can see like 18 different areas around here that are going to become catastrophically screwed in ways most people can't imagine, and that's just me and what I'm getting from this angle. Please bear in mind the target spits steel melting acid. Thank you for your business, your consultancy fee is one movie night or a bottle of that vodka liqueur stuff with the cake frosting in it that makes it all sparkly and swirly that I don't remember the name of right now."

First one or not, she's off the way she came, back to the upright and proper side of the bridge and a chance at further coffee. This was going to be a long day...

[Raz_Fox]

Of course Compass is going to try and take a quick glance at whatever's in here. A proper, soul-searing glance, the fire of heaven quickening in her eyes as she pushes her glasses up with her middle finger and demands that the world make sense, because she's already an initiate of its secrets. Some of its secrets, at least. A few of the secrets, even.

It's the rough-and-tumble, we-don't-have-a-lot-of-time version. Given a proper ritual and a lot of time, she could... all right, she needs more Spirit training. Definitely needs it.

[Rote: Exorcist's Eye. 2 Reach used up to make it instant and stacking on her already-burning Sacred Geometry spell, a third Reach spent on pushing it across the Gauntlet, a fourth spent on Advanced Potency. I insisted on having this Rote have Occult as its triggering skill, but, man, I wish I'd picked Empathy instead. [roll0]]

[Thanqol]

First one or not, she's off the way she came, back to the upright and proper side of the bridge and a chance at further coffee. This was going to be a long day...

It's pretty fantastic to be the right way up again. There's some dizziness but you're an Initiate of Life, realigning your sense of balance is the kind of trick you can manage. Do you do that kind of thing? Minor body-adjusting conveniences?

Where are you planning to head first?


Of course Compass is going to try and take a quick glance at whatever's in here. A proper, soul-searing glance, the fire of heaven quickening in her eyes as she pushes her glasses up with her middle finger and demands that the world make sense, because she's already an initiate of its secrets. Some of its secrets, at least. A few of the secrets, even.

It's the rough-and-tumble, we-don't-have-a-lot-of-time version. Given a proper ritual and a lot of time, she could... all right, she needs more Spirit training. Definitely needs it.

[Rote: Exorcist's Eye. 2 Reach used up to make it instant and stacking on her already-burning Sacred Geometry spell, a third Reach spent on pushing it across the Gauntlet, a fourth spent on Advanced Potency. I insisted on having this Rote have Occult as its triggering skill, but, man, I wish I'd picked Empathy instead. [roll0]]

It changes too often to get a read. Here, a crow, there the colour red, now the storm - you catch a dozen of its aspects, servitors, myths but you are too distracted by the shifting images to get a good look at the deeper reality below.

And then the bridge is sealed and it is gone.

[Anarion]

I blink. Make a gesture as if to tip my hat at Lily, though the absurdity of it while being upside down is eclipsed by the absurdity of the fact I'm not wearing a hat at all at just this moment. Compass is distracted, but I'm sure she'll gather that we've headed back to the favorable side of gravity before the blood rushing to her head causes her to black out. Practical woman, all the way around.

I take a moment to gather myself the right way around. "Really flabbergasting that readjusting one's balance is not dissimilar to time travel, eh Lily? Let's hope the odd gravitational paradox from walking the wrong way round won't be any trouble." A weak attempt at a joke, but then I've got the best follow up. "Coffee on me, and then onward?"

[Raz_Fox]

"Beautiful." Compass lingers a moment, staring at the steel where, a moment before, there was a tear in the world. She kneels, upside-down, and brushes her fingers against the steel which her friend pulled across the hole, solid matter no more yielding than spider-webs in her hands. We caged something we made in there, didn't we? Something big, fed by the traffic, by the radio jockeys blaring their voices into a hundred drivers' heads a second, moving at a manic clip across the bridge, a part of the ecosystem that existed for the benefit of mankind. Her knuckles go rap-a-tap against the steel, and then she stands, the blood rushing to her head, and lopes easily back up to the edge of the bridge, back up and over, glancing about to make sure no one is about to see a runner casually clambering up from beneath the bridge. The strong magnetism will make her trip back into town interesting.

Into town, and into the shower, and into her suit, and into work.

The other work, the other side of the coin: being a necessary moving part of the government of the city, supporting the ecosystem and facilitating its proper growth. Coffee would be nice, but let's be real, only an Acanthus has time enough in the day for everything.

She'll be rolling the Mothman problem over in her head today, planning an after-work excursion to the Taronga zoo. Oh, and she'll make a quick purchase off her smartphone: Smirnoff, Vanilla Cake, two bottles. One for the consultancy fee, and another to bolster her apology to Lily that morning. She uses... what she's pretty sure is Lily's current address for the shipping address.

[PhoeKun]

It's pretty fantastic to be the right way up again. There's some dizziness but you're an Initiate of Life, realigning your sense of balance is the kind of trick you can manage. Do you do that kind of thing? Minor body-adjusting conveniences?

Answering your question with another question: is there some inherent nobility in not using magic to make your life easier? Who's it going to kill is Lily Mason isn't dizzy even after hanging upside down like a bat for the better part of an hour? Just imagine a world where a mage would drink to the point of stupor and then refused to cure her hangover the next morning. Imagine not easing away the lactic acid buildup after chasing after Gabriella on one of her runs. There's cheating, sure. Ways to hurt people, ruin patterns, burn holes into the Abyss. But oh gosh, there's no way this is one of those kinds of things. Is it nobler for a Moros to learn an Arcana for the sake of expanding her world view and academia, or is she allowed to reach those things accidentally in pursuit of a chance to hurt a little less in the morning? Psh.

"...Coffee? Yes. Yes, I love you. Yes. Also a muffin, if there's time. Is there time? You're the expert. I feel like Comps is going to want to follow up on things outside of this sphere of weirdness, so if she's busy I want to hit up Luna Park while she's on that. Did you know I've never been? Also it's a ghost-infested hellscape and I am way more qualified to deal with that than I am to even figure out what the heck is going on with a man moth. Moth. Man. Metamorph Mothmenos."

[Thanqol]

"Beautiful." Compass lingers a moment, staring at the steel where, a moment before, there was a tear in the world. She kneels, upside-down, and brushes her fingers against the steel which her friend pulled across the hole, solid matter no more yielding than spider-webs in her hands. We caged something we made in there, didn't we? Something big, fed by the traffic, by the radio jockeys blaring their voices into a hundred drivers' heads a second, moving at a manic clip across the bridge, a part of the ecosystem that existed for the benefit of mankind. Her knuckles go rap-a-tap against the steel, and then she stands, the blood rushing to her head, and lopes easily back up to the edge of the bridge, back up and over, glancing about to make sure no one is about to see a runner casually clambering up from beneath the bridge. The strong magnetism will make her trip back into town interesting.

Into town, and into the shower, and into her suit, and into work.

The other work, the other side of the coin: being a necessary moving part of the government of the city, supporting the ecosystem and facilitating its proper growth. Coffee would be nice, but let's be real, only an Acanthus has time enough in the day for everything.

She'll be rolling the Mothman problem over in her head today, planning an after-work excursion to the Taronga zoo. Oh, and she'll make a quick purchase off her smartphone: Smirnoff, Vanilla Cake, two bottles. One for the consultancy fee, and another to bolster her apology to Lily that morning. She uses... what she's pretty sure is Lily's current address for the shipping address.

So, tell me a bit about your office, your job? How is it decorated? What are you working on? What kind of team culture do you promote amongst your subordinates - do they ask questions, take initiative, or do you discourage that sort of thing for their own safety?

You have a big meeting with that casino developer today. He wants to finance a community park along the shore outside his big new tower and the plans you've seen so far seem suspiciously geomantically sensitive. Given that you saw someone sucking in as much mana as they could from the tower breach to that casino this morning the odds of there being an Awakened hand involved here are pretty high. What preparations do you take?


Answering your question with another question: is there some inherent nobility in not using magic to make your life easier? Who's it going to kill is Lily Mason isn't dizzy even after hanging upside down like a bat for the better part of an hour? Just imagine a world where a mage would drink to the point of stupor and then refused to cure her hangover the next morning. Imagine not easing away the lactic acid buildup after chasing after Gabriella on one of her runs. There's cheating, sure. Ways to hurt people, ruin patterns, burn holes into the Abyss. But oh gosh, there's no way this is one of those kinds of things. Is it nobler for a Moros to learn an Arcana for the sake of expanding her world view and academia, or is she allowed to reach those things accidentally in pursuit of a chance to hurt a little less in the morning? Psh.

You once met one of Compass' colleagues in the Silver Ladder, a gentleman named Rich In Kindness, who took that position a bit further when he was trying to recruit you. His position was, essentially, that you are a GOD and every minor inconvenience, every hangover, every ache and pain was a sin against your divinity inflicted by an unjust cosmos. Afterwards he swore you an oath that he would destroy the ones responsible and left the meeting like a man on a mission.

There's no point to this story, I presume you didn't find his speech particularly convincing.


"...Coffee? Yes. Yes, I love you. Yes. Also a muffin, if there's time. Is there time? You're the expert. I feel like Comps is going to want to follow up on things outside of this sphere of weirdness, so if she's busy I want to hit up Luna Park while she's on that. Did you know I've never been? Also it's a ghost-infested hellscape and I am way more qualified to deal with that than I am to even figure out what the heck is going on with a man moth. Moth. Man. Metamorph Mothmenos."

So the closer you get to the old theme park the stronger the sense of Death gets. This place is deeply aligned with the Underworld and then someone sprayed it with a fire hose of mana. The scent of fire and burned flesh is heavy in the air - clearly and powerfully centered around a boarded up old building with the words GHOST TRAIN written in faded paint. Painted Halloween ghouls and goblins leer from the wall's murals, flayed by the wind to expose the brickwork below.

In the real world, the Ghost Train building has been torn down and replaced with a pinball arcade, full of all those light gun shooters and car racing games. Kids play for tickets and shoot virtual zombies but through the blasting noise and the echoing crackle of flames you can glimpse a strange figure (http://cdn.newsapi.com.au/image/v1/7caa50f0eb209ae647685aad2bcca3be?width=1024) in the background of the flashing arcade screens.

This place is not safe. Everyone here is in terrible danger.

[Anarion]

"...Coffee? Yes. Yes, I love you. Yes. Also a muffin, if there's time. Is there time? You're the expert. I feel like Comps is going to want to follow up on things outside of this sphere of weirdness, so if she's busy I want to hit up Luna Park while she's on that. Did you know I've never been? Also it's a ghost-infested hellscape and I am way more qualified to deal with that than I am to even figure out what the heck is going on with a man moth. Moth. Man. Metamorph Mothmenos."

"I suppose I am at that, jolly good. There's always time for coffee, and if Compass needs to tend to affairs, we should have time even beyond that. Truth be told, I would be surprised if our mothman came out in daylight. Far too many eyes: cameras, cars, pedestrians and what not. This is not a small fellow, but a full fledged cryptid capable of eating through a bridge for entirely unknown motivations. No, I'm sure that we can fetch a little coffee and go to the amusement park for a jiffy so long as we go to the zoo before evening. Though, do kindly keep track of time, and allow me to remind you of it. I'd hate to have to go back and redo half the day."

[Raz_Fox]

So, tell me a bit about your office, your job? How is it decorated? What are you working on? What kind of team culture do you promote amongst your subordinates - do they ask questions, take initiative, or do you discourage that sort of thing for their own safety?

Energy. Honesty. Confidence.

Ms. Jalloh, on paper, is the Assistant Secretary for the Economic Commissioner of the Central Sydney Planning Committee. Her job is, by and large, networking and making sure that a lot of things are running smoothly. Her email inbox would probably make a being of pure law throw up its hands and admit defeat. She conducts important surveys personally, makes inspection visits to areas of interest to the Committee, and makes sure that the wheels of government keep spinning by keeping track of a lot of teams and committees and neatly summarizing their efforts for her boss, who in turn uses those reports to influence the future zoning and expansion of the city.

And all this gets her a small office in the back of Sydney Town Hall, a building built before the First World War. Her accommodations there are an interesting mix of spartan and jumbled; the walls have multiple corkboards, which are absolutely covered in thumbtacks and string and paper, flyers, pamphlets, a way of keeping a hundred different projects straight in her head, but her desk only ever has a few small stacks of paperwork that she's working through, and her personal work computer, and whatever pieces of astrological art she can get her hands on. She spends as much time out of her chair as in it, as she tends to pace back and forth, like the proverbial tiger in a cage.

It's a place to arrange her plans, to receive and issue forms and letters, and to prepare for meetings at the Town Hall itself, which is a nexus-point for the city's government and its civic movers-and-shakers. But a lot of her work sees her out and about in the city, or visiting other offices, or meeting people over lunch at a nice Sydney cafe to discuss business.

Ms. Jalloh is a Visionary, capital V, you can ask anyone who has to report to her directly. It's why she was offered an important job in her hometown, working for the Central Sydney Planning Committee, after an admittedly short time spent in London. Does it make some people consider her an upstart who didn't pay her dues? Probably. She's hard to ignore, one way or the other. Ms. Jalloh's vision for Sydney, that she will explain to anyone polite enough to ask, is a city that runs like a well-oiled machine and works on certain geometric principles to maximize energy flow. A well-designed city flows, a poorly-managed city clogs. She makes sure the city flows. Or, more accurately, she convinces other people to make sure the city flows.

What does her boss think of that? Well, boss, that's above my own paygrade to know.

A lot of people report to Ms. Jalloh. Very few of them spend enough time around her to get anything from her other than "I am a natural people person with an air of ironclad confidence who is here to solve your problems, and also, have you tried meditating? I will be very disappointed if you lie to me and will do my best to give you the straight truth, and also, I don't dismiss anything weird or supernatural out of hand, and I can talk to you about your star sign over coffee for five minutes straight before digging into the details of your policy proposal. Seriously, though. Meditation. Strongly recommended." As a lot of her subordinates are, themselves, team leaders, she encourages them to trust in their team and their own skills, and to trust her to not give them any instructions that are outside of their ability to carry out.


You have a big meeting with that casino developer today. He wants to finance a community park along the shore outside his big new tower and the plans you've seen so far seem suspiciously geomantically sensitive. Given that you saw someone sucking in as much mana as they could from the tower breach to that casino this morning the odds of there being an Awakened hand involved here are pretty high. What preparations do you take?

Geomantically sensitive in what way? You can safely assume that Compass has printed out her own copy of the plans and scribbled her knowledge of the area's ley lines over them in pencil, and that she's reviewed the community park proposal, a subordinate's economic analysis of the park proposal, and that she's asked that same subordinate to sit in on the meeting to provide fact-checking.

Also, that she'll come in with her mystical sight open and tuned to the Prime Arcanum, that she's gone over the proposal after casting Pierce Deception in her office, and that she'll be casting Pierce Deception again if the meeting gets particularly heated. Need me to roll for the Pierce Deception cast that happens before the meeting while she's perusing the proposal?

[Thanqol]

Geomantically sensitive in what way? You can safely assume that Compass has printed out her own copy of the plans and scribbled her knowledge of the area's ley lines over them in pencil, and that she's reviewed the community park proposal, a subordinate's economic analysis of the park proposal, and that she's asked that same subordinate to sit in on the meeting to provide fact-checking.

Also, that she'll come in with her mystical sight open and tuned to the Prime Arcanum, that she's gone over the proposal after casting Pierce Deception in her office, and that she'll be casting Pierce Deception again if the meeting gets particularly heated. Need me to roll for the Pierce Deception cast that happens before the meeting while she's perusing the proposal?

So Pierce Deception immediately tells you that the documents you've received is full of lies.

Beyond that, you get a sense of what the lies are - they are lies of contempt. A King makes his decrees and does not feel the need to explain his strategies to his servants. The basic character of the park is true, and all the broad strokes are accurate, but the specific arrangement of things within the park are false and will no doubt be arranged into more geomantically appropriate shapes when it is put into practice. You can see where it plugs into the ley lines of the area around it - skillfully and deeply - but you can't tell what happens inside the engine.

You can perhaps reverse-engineer some of the symbols and intention based on limited information but that's a matter of intelligence+occult-4 - the penalty is high because it is in opposition to the skill of the opposing side in laying plans like this, and if nothing else, they know what secrets are worth keeping.

I won't ask for the Pierce Deception roll yet, that can wait until a Clash of Wills is provoked. These documents aren't magically concealed; details are just omitted.

[PhoeKun]

There's no point to this story, I presume you didn't find his speech particularly convincing.

Here's a funny thing, right? Drinking without getting a hangover only really feels special if the hangover is a thing you are avoiding. There's something deeply humanizing about suffering after a night of fun, and if it's possible, something even more human about reaching for a magic button to make the consequences go away. The ancient Greeks once said that humanity was more beautiful than divinity because they had the capacity to fight and struggle and die to spite their imperfections. 'Beauty fades, and so is beautiful.' It's a shame, because a lot of Compy's friends seem almost on the right page about leaving the world more awesome than they found it, but somewhere in climbing that silly ladder they all seem to lose sight of the ground.

Coffee, bold and bitter with an edge taken off by pumpkin spice, this is beautiful too. Lily takes her time and savors the moments before her work starts calling her back into motion, losing the time to small talk and nibbles from a cinnamon roll. God, but if it wasn't so bad for her it wouldn't be so good. But even when your best friend is Acanthus, there's only so much time in the day, and so very much to do.

The park beckons. The Ghost Train looms. Lily's face darkens, and she fidgets with her ring without really meaning to. Beauty fades, but there's no need to rush it.

"People will die," she shrugs and looks her friend in the eye, "Do you see it? They need to leave."

Her first thought is the building's power. Knock the games out of order, preferably without Witnesses and all the stickiness that entails. Where's the main breaker? Can she find a suitable place to drain the building of electricity? And what is that figure doing?

[Anarion]

"Do you see it? They need to leave."


Do I? What does that place look like to an Acanthus? What time does it call out to? What is fated to happen there?

[Thanqol]

The park beckons. The Ghost Train looms. Lily's face darkens, and she fidgets with her ring without really meaning to. Beauty fades, but there's no need to rush it.

"People will die," she shrugs and looks her friend in the eye, "Do you see it? They need to leave."

Her first thought is the building's power. Knock the games out of order, preferably without Witnesses and all the stickiness that entails. Where's the main breaker? Can she find a suitable place to drain the building of electricity? And what is that figure doing?

Death Sight tells you that there are seven ghosts present here - the ordinary kind, lost souls denied closure, lingering spirits more confused than malicious. They are Anchored here, to the Ghost Train, the spot where they died.

But the figure in the screens - let us call it the Beast - is something darker. It is of the Underworld but it is bloated and powerful. Perhaps it is a truly ancient and murderous spirit, or perhaps it was never human to begin with. It too is Anchored to this place, but more broadly - across the entire park rather than this single structure. Now that you're in this place, with both sets of spirits in your view, you can start to see the differences in the Underworld here. While the Ghost Train is ruined and scary it doesn't have the same resonance of cruelty that pervades the park as a whole. It's the difference between a child's nightmare and a deliberate intent to hurt.

You are wise to check the electricity because you can see eerie power flowing through the copper cabling. The Beast has a special resonance with the wires in the walls and it runs through them like a heartbeat. It particularly pulses along the external neon lights and signs outside the Arcade - calling, come in, come in, come and play.

There is a breaker for this building around the back, guarded by nothing more than a metal box and a padlock - but you know enough about ghosts to know that it might be able to continue to power this building using its own strength. The effort may tax it, though, and it can perhaps be beaten in a direct conflict if you are strong and fortunate.


Do I? What does that place look like to an Acanthus? What time does it call out to? What is fated to happen there?

Fate tells you that this place is indeed laboring under the destiny of a tragedy repeated. The time it calls out to is 10:15pm 9/6/1979. It also has a strong resonance to 10/1935.

You do get the odd sense, though, that this is about money.

More specific information will require more specific spellcasting.

[Raz_Fox]

You can perhaps reverse-engineer some of the symbols and intention based on limited information but that's a matter of intelligence+occult-4 - the penalty is high because it is in opposition to the skill of the opposing side in laying plans like this, and if nothing else, they know what secrets are worth keeping.

Faaaaantastic. At that sort of penalty, it's a chance die, which means Compass blinks and shrugs and notes down that this sort of thing is well above her pay grade, but maybe Keynes would know something about it. It's his job, right? Knowing the strange and spooky things of this world, and not things like, say, talking to committees. That's her job.

Bring on the meeting.

[Thanqol]

Faaaaantastic. At that sort of penalty, it's a chance die, which means Compass blinks and shrugs and notes down that this sort of thing is well above her pay grade, but maybe Keynes would know something about it. It's his job, right? Knowing the strange and spooky things of this world, and not things like, say, talking to committees. That's her job.

Bring on the meeting.

The meeting is being held at a very nice business restaurant - fourth floor, invite only, spectacular view of Darling Harbour. Private sector sorts tend to like to intimidate civil servants with their wealth - but you're actually personally rich enough to be able to cover your end of the tab without stress. Places like this tend to have tables more like small conference rooms - soundproof screens, integrated electronics and plenty of space to roll out blueprints without disturbing the wine. So far so standard.

What's unusual is that when you arrive the place is empty. No, not empty - all the Sleepers are standing lined up against the wall. Old men with bluetooth earpieces and women with four-digit hairdos standing and facing directly into the blank concrete. They're making a sound - whooshing, like the sea. They all breathe in at the same time and then let out synchronized gentle ocean noises. The lights are rolling between light and darkness - a waiter is standing by the dial, gently increasing and then dimming the luminosity. It's like lying on a beach at twilight listening to the waves. Soothing.

The tables have all been piled haphazardly in a corner. There's only one currently set up, directly in the middle of the room. A young man in an inexpensive but tasteful brown suit and blue tie, sandy brown hair, weatherbeaten features, sits at the table. He smiles when you enter, boyishly, like a farmboy who lied about his age to sign up for the first world war. When you meet his big brown eyes - long eyelashes - you feel a rush of calm and admiration. Entirely unnatural. Primesight can see the magic boiling off him like plumes of steam from the Dead Sea. His Nimbus fills the halls of your mind with the rushing sounds of the ocean.

This isn't even a spell at work here. This is just the sheer force of his Awakened will manifesting as his Nimbus. This is the part of his soul which doesn't fit in his body. It is out of control. It seems to continue indefinitely. Only a frightening combination of power and hubris can produce this kind of effect.

You might be able to buy yourself some space by flaring your own Nimbus in response - a roll of Resolve+Gnosis needing two successes to pass. If you fail, or choose not to risk angering this creature, note a Tilt that lowers your Resolve by five for as long as you are aware of his presence. If you scrutinize him at any point with active mage sight the sensation is so overwhelming that you must apply that Tilt anyway.

[Anarion]

Fate tells you that this place is indeed laboring under the destiny of a tragedy repeated. The time it calls out to is 10:15pm 9/6/1979. It also has a strong resonance to 10/1935.

You do get the odd sense, though, that this is about money.

More specific information will require more specific spellcasting.

Let's start with a simple interconnections, which will show me sympathetic connections of this tragedy, and identify anyone who has violated an oath or geas (and any spells with conditional durations if they're floating around). The park is full of people, so no high speech, but I'll use two magical tools, looking at my watch impatiently and adjusting my coat as I try to get a sense of the place. Reach for instant cast and let's use a second reach to detect any possessions, mind control, or alterations of destiny in this park.

[roll0]
[well, nuts]

[Raz_Fox]

Nuts to that. Compass is here to eat fish and discuss the park, not act like a siren in this nautical-themed thumbprint this... admittedly very frighteningly strong Mage is imprinting into the world. Her Nimbus flares, struggling against his, as she braces herself and pushes all of her selfness into this: the part of her that stood overlooking the bay last night, the part that ran her city's roads that morning, the part of her that is Magic and needs no tools.

[Resolve+Gnosis, spending 1 WP to add +3 dice to the roll. [roll0]]

She takes a seat, leaking starlight in the photonegatives of her wake. "I'm fairly certain that the current layout of this restaurant is in violation of the fire code, but since it will be going back to normal once we leave, I see no need to press the issue." Her voice is slightly strained, and the echo of distant wings are in her words, and the sounds they make are: I know the sounds this place makes when all the lights are off and no one has been here for hours, and I know its name that not even the owner knows. And the slight flutter of her voice says: I am a trained professional who is frightened of you, but I am not going to let this distract from the fact that I have a job to do.

[Thanqol]

Let's start with a simple interconnections, which will show me sympathetic connections of this tragedy, and identify anyone who has violated an oath or geas (and any spells with conditional durations if they're floating around). The park is full of people, so no high speech, but I'll use two magical tools, looking at my watch impatiently and adjusting my coat as I try to get a sense of the place. Reach for instant cast and let's use a second reach to detect any possessions, mind control, or alterations of destiny in this park.

[roll0]
[well, nuts]

Too many people coming and going, too many fond memories that people are sure will last forever vanishing into smoke. You can't see anything useful through the clamor. Clear the area and try again.


Nuts to that. Compass is here to eat fish and discuss the park, not act like a siren in this nautical-themed thumbprint this... admittedly very frighteningly strong Mage is imprinting into the world. Her Nimbus flares, struggling against his, as she braces herself and pushes all of her selfness into this: the part of her that stood overlooking the bay last night, the part that ran her city's roads that morning, the part of her that is Magic and needs no tools.

[Resolve+Gnosis, spending 1 WP to add +3 dice to the roll. [roll0]]

She takes a seat, leaking starlight in the photonegatives of her wake. "I'm fairly certain that the current layout of this restaurant is in violation of the fire code, but since it will be going back to normal once we leave, I see no need to press the issue." Her voice is slightly strained, and the echo of distant wings are in her words, and the sounds they make are: I know the sounds this place makes when all the lights are off and no one has been here for hours, and I know its name that not even the owner knows. And the slight flutter of her voice says: I am a trained professional who is frightened of you, but I am not going to let this distract from the fact that I have a job to do.

Your head flies forwards and strikes the table at force, denting the silverware. A hand is wrapped up in your hair. You can hear someone screaming furiously at you. "You DARE lecture me on Mortal laws? YOU DARE?! YOU DARE TO GO VISITING MY INTENTIONS!?" It screams so loud your ears ring.

But as suddenly as it appeared, the hand and the voice begins to fade. The grip on your head loses strength and fades into mist. The voice echoes away as though shouting from across an ocean. Blood trickles down your forehead. Take one bashing harm. The man across the table smiles pacifically, seeming almost unaware of what just happened.

You are an Adept of Prime magic; all the Arcana are known to the Aether. You can recognize the telltale plume of Mind magic at work here. This man is a practitioner of Goetic sorcery. Goetia is the process of pulling your inner demons out of your head and unleashing them upon the world. Normally this is a deeply involved process but you were just violently assaulted by the goetic demon of a split second's irritation. That implies that there's an open channel between his brain and reality.

"I understand, of course," he said, offering his hand to shake. "I am Damien Thule," Prime: that's a Shadow Name. "I apologize if I have made you uncomfortable in any way. That was not my intention. Please, feel free to make any adjustments you find soothing; the Mortals are all pacified and suggestible."

[PhoeKun]

Hm. Right, yeah. This is a problem. It's a big problem, and one that a super smart scientist-type like Lily Mason should take the time to puzzle out. There's a Beast on the loose, running in the power lines, building himself a death trap, pulling people in. People having fun, people playing games. People... man oh man, to be one of them instead. What a horrible time to be a wizard. She looks at Keynes again, but he strikes her in this particular moment as having all the bearing of a tiger squinting at an impressionist painting. Not a lot of help. Right now, anyway. Maybe later.

Her feet carry her out of the arcade, and around the side, but she's not really paying attention. Follow the lines, follow the power. Be smart about it. Be deliberate, people's lives hang in the balance. She twists her ring idly in her finger.

"Oh, the heck with it."

She pivots on the balls of her feet and smashes her wrench into the breaker box like a bat from one of those sports games where they hit balls and then run between markers, you know the one I mean. Everyone always says that Compass is the one with power over electricity, but nuts to her, there are other ways. Nuts to her, nuts to this building and its wires, nuts to every single game in there, and nuts to the idea of a working arcade. See what happens!

[roll0] (edit: plus Willpower 8, 6, 6)
((Alter Conductivity at Potency 3 to reduce power to the building by 6 points of damage, which theoretically should put it at zero and shut the whole thing off. Free Reach for instant cast, additional Reach for Advanced Scale. Spending 1 mana for advanced duration as per Matter 2 attainment. Wrench as weapon Yantra, ring as dedicated tool to reduce Paradox to a chance die))

[Anarion]

Too many people coming and going, too many fond memories that people are sure will last forever vanishing into smoke. You can't see anything useful through the clamor. Clear the area and try again.



Absolutely the worst sort of jiggery-pokery. Let's try it from a different angle then. Perhaps the more, some would say crude, but I prefer physical magic of the space itself might unlock some secrets here.

[Trying a correspondence spell for a mana. Using all my rote reach to get very detailed sympathetic connections including their emotional character that I can follow from connection to connection and that will let me know about any Irises and their keys if such are present and detectable by the spell.]
[roll0]
[10, 9, 1 on the 10 agains, I'll recover the point of mana. Very feast or famine here.]

[Raz_Fox]

Mind magic can go to hell in a handbasket. No, please, really: go back to hell and stop rooting through other people's senses of self, it's horrid. Doubtless he can tell her distaste for his Arcanum, if he's so skilled, and doubtless he knows that she thinks of him, instinctively, as a threat. As a loose cannon on the landscape, a gravity well of unchecked power, someone screaming I when the world is Us.

Or maybe not. If there are two possibilities, and one will cause instant and horrific death at this man's hands whatever she does, because he already knows that she is not willing to bend and break and would prefer to see him taught his proper place in the Ladder's rungs, and his pride is such that he cannot bear that, well, she may as well operate under the assumption that he does not know every fleeting thought that is shooting across her frontal lobe, because if that is true, what she does will actually matter.

So she gives him a cold smile and accepts the handshake, blood slowly trickling from a shallow cut where a fork raked across her skin, and says: "You already know my name, Mr. Thule, so I propose we move directly to the business at hand." She pauses, folders halfway out and ready to be spread across the table. "Unless, of course, you would prefer to order before we get to brass tacks. I don't mind either way."

[Thanqol]

Hm. Right, yeah. This is a problem. It's a big problem, and one that a super smart scientist-type like Lily Mason should take the time to puzzle out. There's a Beast on the loose, running in the power lines, building himself a death trap, pulling people in. People having fun, people playing games. People... man oh man, to be one of them instead. What a horrible time to be a wizard. She looks at Keynes again, but he strikes her in this particular moment as having all the bearing of a tiger squinting at an impressionist painting. Not a lot of help. Right now, anyway. Maybe later.

Her feet carry her out of the arcade, and around the side, but she's not really paying attention. Follow the lines, follow the power. Be smart about it. Be deliberate, people's lives hang in the balance. She twists her ring idly in her finger.

"Oh, the heck with it."

She pivots on the balls of her feet and smashes her wrench into the breaker box like a bat from one of those sports games where they hit balls and then run between markers, you know the one I mean. Everyone always says that Compass is the one with power over electricity, but nuts to her, there are other ways. Nuts to her, nuts to this building and its wires, nuts to every single game in there, and nuts to the idea of a working arcade. See what happens!

[roll0] (edit: plus Willpower 8, 6, 6)
((Alter Conductivity at Potency 3 to reduce power to the building by 6 points of damage, which theoretically should put it at zero and shut the whole thing off. Free Reach for instant cast, additional Reach for Advanced Scale. Spending 1 mana for advanced duration as per Matter 2 attainment. Wrench as weapon Yantra, ring as dedicated tool to reduce Paradox to a chance die))

Paradox dice: 4

There's a sudden silence and whirr as dozens of fans slow down and the lights blink out. Death Sight shivers as you see a crackle of energy flare out, which causes the lights to stutter online for a second - but just a second. You've done more than cut the cord, you've gutted the building's electronics. There's no easy purchase for the Beast's power here.

There's another brief flicker, smaller, almost experimental, and then silence. At a guess you'd imagine that the restless spirit is taking a step back and trying to figure out what the hell just happened. This may take it some time - ghosts tend to be extremely particular about how and when they kill. In the meantime disappointed kids are wandering out of the arcade.


Absolutely the worst sort of jiggery-pokery. Let's try it from a different angle then. Perhaps the more, some would say crude, but I prefer physical magic of the space itself might unlock some secrets here.

[Trying a correspondence spell for a mana. Using all my rote reach to get very detailed sympathetic connections including their emotional character that I can follow from connection to connection and that will let me know about any Irises and their keys if such are present and detectable by the spell.]
[roll0]
[10, 9, 1 on the 10 agains, I'll recover the point of mana. Very feast or famine here.]

Incidentally, you see the destiny of foreboding doom suddenly get pushed back down the line.

So, the trick with this is that you can't actually see your target but Lily can carefully direct you at the right things. Through this manner you're able to observe the Beast's connections to the world.

The oldest connection first: To the land. Not the park, the dirt and soil and hills of this immediate area. Its land. Pride, ownership.
Then there's a connection to the theme park specifically. Hate, rage, a sense of being wronged. There's a sub-connection to a woman, Jasillin, modern, unfocused, angry - someone in charge of the park right now you'd guess.
Weaker, more distant but more recent - a connection to a man, O'Brien. Ownership, mastery, indifference. A catspaw in the mortal world.
Strong, but tangential - a flare of interest. A descendent - Ryan Brook. Loyalty, indignant on his behalf, contemptuous.


Mind magic can go to hell in a handbasket. No, please, really: go back to hell and stop rooting through other people's senses of self, it's horrid. Doubtless he can tell her distaste for his Arcanum, if he's so skilled, and doubtless he knows that she thinks of him, instinctively, as a threat. As a loose cannon on the landscape, a gravity well of unchecked power, someone screaming I when the world is Us.

Or maybe not. If there are two possibilities, and one will cause instant and horrific death at this man's hands whatever she does, because he already knows that she is not willing to bend and break and would prefer to see him taught his proper place in the Ladder's rungs, and his pride is such that he cannot bear that, well, she may as well operate under the assumption that he does not know every fleeting thought that is shooting across her frontal lobe, because if that is true, what she does will actually matter.

So she gives him a cold smile and accepts the handshake, blood slowly trickling from a shallow cut where a fork raked across her skin, and says: "You already know my name, Mr. Thule, so I propose we move directly to the business at hand." She pauses, folders halfway out and ready to be spread across the table. "Unless, of course, you would prefer to order before we get to brass tacks. I don't mind either way."

"Oh yes, waiter?" he says absently. Two waiters approach, holding bottles of water upended. Cold water pours out onto the floor and pools around your shoes. "Yes, we will have the special," he says. They smile and back away leaving trails of water in their wake.

No violence. He seems eminently peaceful, entirely undisturbed. Of course you could always tell what exact magic he has active, maybe even learn some intricate and powerful secrets carelessly expressed, but that would expose you directly to the force of his Nimbus in the process.

"I understand you are a very useful person to know when it comes to getting things done in this town," says Thule with a smile. Either he is ignorant to your distaste or he is a masterful actor. "I will wear the Crown of Sydney. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crown_Sydney) But that is for me alone, and I wish to give something back to the community. Hence the park. My gift to you."

[Anarion]

Incidentally, you see the destiny of foreboding doom suddenly get pushed back down the line.

So, the trick with this is that you can't actually see your target but Lily can carefully direct you at the right things. Through this manner you're able to observe the Beast's connections to the world.

The oldest connection first: To the land. Not the park, the dirt and soil and hills of this immediate area. Its land. Pride, ownership.
Then there's a connection to the theme park specifically. Hate, rage, a sense of being wronged. There's a sub-connection to a woman, Jasillin, modern, unfocused, angry - someone in charge of the park right now you'd guess.
Weaker, more distant but more recent - a connection to a man, O'Brien. Ownership, mastery, indifference. A catspaw in the mortal world.
Strong, but tangential - a flare of interest. A descendent - Ryan Brook. Loyalty, indignant on his behalf, contemptuous.


I shudder at the minor chill of paradox, but give Lily a pat. "Hm, yes, well done Lily, you've pushed back the doom of this place by a good substantial amount of time that I can't be rather specific about but is at any rate past the end of the day. Yes, quite good." I grumble, adjust my hat, then go through the series of connections and repeat them out loud for Lily's benefit.

"So, we've got ourselves a rather angry beasty of some sort that's not well pleased there's an amusement park here at all, some directed rage at the owner, a vested interest in a descendent, and a mortal patsy to boot. Perhaps a few interviews now that you've put off the horrible death for the better part of a day, eh?"

[PhoeKun]

Lilly takes a deep breath and exhales with enough force to puff out her cheeks. She lifts her eyebrows, widens her eyes... yeah. You know that look. The 'wow that was harder than I thought it would be and probably kind of dangerous now that I think about it, jeez' face. She shakes her head and looks around, side-stepping a disappointed 13 year old who glares at her like he somehow knows it's her fault the DDR station shut off. First of all kid, why aren't you playing a real game like Soul Calibur 5? I see the machine right over there. And second of all... the power's staying off. Oh hey, the power's staying off. Sweet! Take that, ectoplasmic causality!

"Well, I mean, who would you interview exactly? We've got some woman running Creepy Awful Death Park, but dollars to donuts I bet you she doesn't even know something's wrong, let alone many pertinent details about what this place was like before it had a horrifying moon face for a gate. I guess there's the stooge or Farmer Jenkins' grandson, but I guess... well, I'm not really sure, you know? If you want me to we can just plop our butts down and do a seance right here and ask the Murder Ghost what his deal is and skip playing Scooby Doo because quite frankly between you and me we don't have a talking dog, a stoner, a hot chick, or a van and frankly I look terrible in orange, or we can -- hm.

So, moment of personal revelation here, I spend an unhealthy amount of time staring at ghosts. I can't help it; they're everywhere. And I can give you all the basic beats and patterns they tend to run through, even the weird ones like The Beast here. But I don't really, like, study this kind of thing. The Occult angles and all that jazz. Never struck me as being especially relevant to my work in the before times, and all your jerk buddies in the wizard government took my library card. But you're a smart guy, you really know your stuff when you're not covering it in cockney or whatever. Help me out here: in your professional opinion, are we better off trying a straight exorcism, or is there more value in trying to Patrick Swayze him into submission? Is there even a non-violent outcome for murder ghosts that suck little kids into arcades?

...Oh my goooodddddddd I don't want to have to watch over the bridge and an arcade! When am I supposed to find time to build robots? Gosh hecking darn it, being a superhero sucks sometimes."

[Thanqol]

So, Keynes, some things:

Three dots in Occult means you're qualified to perform an actual, proper, by the numbers sleeper Exorcism. You know a couple of associated basic facts about ghosts:

- It's all about the Anchors. Ghosts are stuck to their Anchors, physical things or people. If you 'kill' a ghost somehow it'll reform at one of its Anchors. This process is extremely traumatic to the ghost.
- Destroying or exorcising all the Anchors sends the ghost on to whatever's on the other side. The ghost will fight you like a devil if it notices what you're up to.
- The one guaranteed Anchor is the spot where it died. Ghosts tend to have one to three.
- Death magic is the super cheating shortcuts to any ghost interactions. Sufficiently mastered it can do exorcisms with a snap of the fingers, identify Anchors at a glance, or mess around with any aspect of ghostly life (There aren't that many great examples in the book but fill in any gaps with creative thaumaturgy). Powerful Death mages use ghosts as spies, soldiers and servants.

[Anarion]

"It's not nearly so much the interview as the vision of the person, my dear Lily. Even if the park owner is as clueless as you say, she'll have a past and a destiny that might be worth viewing and could give us hints as to the location of the others of importance here. But...but but but, you are quite right my dear that such searches are entirely unnecessary if we possess the proper techniques and adequate information. You see, the trick to ghosts is their anchors. Give a ghost the old college one two and he'll just pop right back up angrier than ever, if he's not just plum terrified of you. But if you find what he's bound to, what he cares about and release those things, then he's off to the next world. Or if you've got the knack for it, I imagine you could work a little magic on those anchors and grab us a new ectoplasmic maid service to prepare our afternoon tea.

Now, as I recall, chemistry has always been your greatest talent and binding the spirits of the dead in dark satanic ritual was more of a dalliance, but whatever talents you do have offer us a great deal of time saving. If I were doing this by myself, I'd run about finding where the ghost died and seeking out all the strong connections I just identified and performing an exorcism at each one to ensure that the ghost was properly banished. He'd probably be rather ornery at such interference and I'd have to avoid getting killed in the process as well. But I'm really not all that familiar with death magic. Could you identify the anchors without the need for wasting time talking to the owner of these fairgrounds, or carry out the exorcism more speedily than my boring old way that requires scented candles?"

[Thanqol]

Give a ghost the old college one two and he'll just pop right back up angrier than ever.

I'll just point out that the experience of a ghost having its corpus dissolved is as traumatic as their original death. Maybe more. 'Angry' is certainly a response to that, but so is 'abject terror'. It is possible for a sufficiently ruthless Mage to 'train' a ghost to have pavlovian responses to certain triggers.

Awakened society in general has an attitude towards ghosts that boils down to "They're not people, they just scream like people".

[Raz_Fox]

No violence. He seems eminently peaceful, entirely undisturbed. Of course you could always tell what exact magic he has active, maybe even learn some intricate and powerful secrets carelessly expressed, but that would expose you directly to the force of his Nimbus in the process.

It was hard enough to just flare her own Nimbus in here, heaven only knows what would happen if she opened her eyes and stared directly into that vast sea of his ego. No, no no no. Not today. Today, she was going to be a good public servant instead.


"I understand you are a very useful person to know when it comes to getting things done in this town," says Thule with a smile. Either he is ignorant to your distaste or he is a masterful actor. "I will wear the Crown of Sydney. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crown_Sydney) But that is for me alone, and I wish to give something back to the community. Hence the park. My gift to you."

"That's very kind of you, sir," Compass says, carefully. "A good park always brightens up the neighborhood. But surely-" She stops, catches herself, chooses her words carefully. "Surely you wouldn't treat me to lunch just to inform me that you intended to woo me with your park proposal. Points for style, admittedly. Most of the gifts I receive in this business are blatant bribes or very suspicious fruit baskets."

[Thanqol]

It was hard enough to just flare her own Nimbus in here, heaven only knows what would happen if she opened her eyes and stared directly into that vast sea of his ego. No, no no no. Not today. Today, she was going to be a good public servant instead.

"That's very kind of you, sir," Compass says, carefully. "A good park always brightens up the neighborhood. But surely-" She stops, catches herself, chooses her words carefully. "Surely you wouldn't treat me to lunch just to inform me that you intended to woo me with your park proposal. Points for style, admittedly. Most of the gifts I receive in this business are blatant bribes or very suspicious fruit baskets."

"You are correct," Thule smiles beatifically. With your eyes willingly closed it's impossible to tell if he's naturally charismatic or if he's magically altering your emotions to make him seem kind and benevolent. "Some of the finer points of the ley line network escape me. I am hardly a specialist. I want you to look over my plans and make suggestions and alterations. Perhaps even a field visit to work the site directly."

[PhoeKun]

"Well... hm. To be honest you're right, I'm not as studied in the arts of unmakings, endings, and proton packs as I probably should be given my position. It's kind of embarrassing, to be honest, please don't tell Compy. It really limits our options though. Sorry. Ahh... um, well, let's talk this out I guess. Discovery is no problem, I can tell you just by having looked at him a little that our friend is anchored basically across this park. Also it's funny, you know? There's actually a ton of ghosts here, specifically and I'd have to guess fewer scattered across the remaining area, but somehow this is the spot that feels less... like, you know, Evil.", Lily nods, careful to pronounce the capital E.

"And that's despite this also being the spot where the Beast is trying to stage its murders. I'm not sure I understand what that means. Not sure most people would want to. Anyway! Uh, I can track stuff down, said that already, shouldn't be that hard. There's any of a hundred different ways I can mess with him and his connections here in what we generously refer to as the physical world, and I guess if you gave me a lot of time and a giant compiling ritual I could more or less write a set of instructions that would repurpose a ghost but to be frank that's time consuming, difficult, and dangerous because even when you're working in the perfected language of universal truth, when you're coding you're forever one faulty assumption or line of logic away from the entire program just sort of running away from you. And that's before you get into the part where in this case on some level you're dealing with instruction interpretations between two at least semi-autonomous beings. Ick. Messy messy messy. Overcoming the fundamental nature of... stuff is, like, doctoral thesis level stuff. I'm still working on my Master's over here.

So that leaves stuff like accelerating the natural process, maybe enhancing a candle or three, shielding, veiling, blocking, becoming the eternal guardian of hell park. Lot of ideas, not a lot of solutions. Life is hard."

She shrugs.

[Anarion]

"Well... hm. To be honest you're right, I'm not as studied in the arts of unmakings, endings, and proton packs as I probably should be given my position. It's kind of embarrassing, to be honest, please don't tell Compy. It really limits our options though. Sorry. Ahh... um, well, let's talk this out I guess. Discovery is no problem, I can tell you just by having looked at him a little that our friend is anchored basically across this park. Also it's funny, you know? There's actually a ton of ghosts here, specifically and I'd have to guess fewer scattered across the remaining area, but somehow this is the spot that feels less... like, you know, Evil.", Lily nods, careful to pronounce the capital E.

"And that's despite this also being the spot where the Beast is trying to stage its murders. I'm not sure I understand what that means. Not sure most people would want to. Anyway! Uh, I can track stuff down, said that already, shouldn't be that hard. There's any of a hundred different ways I can mess with him and his connections here in what we generously refer to as the physical world, and I guess if you gave me a lot of time and a giant compiling ritual I could more or less write a set of instructions that would repurpose a ghost but to be frank that's time consuming, difficult, and dangerous because even when you're working in the perfected language of universal truth, when you're coding you're forever one faulty assumption or line of logic away from the entire program just sort of running away from you. And that's before you get into the part where in this case on some level you're dealing with instruction interpretations between two at least semi-autonomous beings. Ick. Messy messy messy. Overcoming the fundamental nature of... stuff is, like, doctoral thesis level stuff. I'm still working on my Master's over here.

So that leaves stuff like accelerating the natural process, maybe enhancing a candle or three, shielding, veiling, blocking, becoming the eternal guardian of hell park. Lot of ideas, not a lot of solutions. Life is hard."

She shrugs.

"My dear, you lost me somewhere in compiling. However, I believe I am correct in taking it that you'd like to banish the 'Beast' before he does whatever awful thing he's planning, yes? And ideally before dinner time so that we can meet with Compass, who I can only assume is having a quiet and energizing business meal at this very moment."

Keynes glances around.

"At any rate, my primary concern is that we find all the anchors, I'm worried the young descendant might be one given the ghost's particular interest in him. If we miss one, he'll reform after quite a traumatic experience and I suspect not well pleased with us. So, perhaps a jaunt around the park as a first order of business, and then we'll see if we can't arrange a chance meeting with the young man, how does that sound."

Keynes is of course quite clear to emphasize the word "chance" properly.

[Raz_Fox]

"You are correct," Thule smiles beatifically. With your eyes willingly closed it's impossible to tell if he's naturally charismatic or if he's magically altering your emotions to make him seem kind and benevolent. "Some of the finer points of the ley line network escape me. I am hardly a specialist. I want you to look over my plans and make suggestions and alterations. Perhaps even a field visit to work the site directly."

"Absolutely. I wish you had just asked right up front, kind offer of a park notwithstanding; as part of my cabal's efforts to increase visibility and interconnectivity between the Awakened of Sydney, I often offer these sorts of services pro bono. You'll have to fill me in on the intended magical effects, of course, and I prefer to run my own data past my cabal's symbology expert before returning the analysis, which means that there is a 1-2 day delay and we will not take responsibility for clients contacting us after the proverbial eleventh hour. Then again, if you're- forgive me, I should have asked up front. Might I inquire as to whether you are affiliated with the local Consilium? If not, don't worry, we'll categorize you as an independent player." Compass takes a pen out of her pocket and absently unrolls the silverware out of her napkin, preparing to use it as an impromptu notepad.

[PhoeKun]

Keynes is of course quite clear to emphasize the word "chance" properly.

Lily blinks, perhaps astonished that her good friend didn't give her an exaggerated wink and an elbow nudge to make sure she saw where he was going with this. She snorts; a tiny expulsion of air through her nose is what passes for laughter in the blacked out, haunted arcade. She lifts a hand to brush her hair back out of her eyes, and she's shaking her head. Shaking her head, but smiling like the dawn.

"If for whatever reason we wind up trapped in an evil parallel dimension where there's two of you, I'm going to make you both tell me a joke. If one of you manages a decent punchline I'll kill him for being the imposter.

Oh gosh Key, never change. That's impossible but... just stay you, ok?" She's still smiling, but there's that old hint of melancholy in her voice. She shrugs, "Lead the way; if you think that's the best step toward sending this thing off to the next world, then that's where we'll go."

[Thanqol]

"Absolutely. I wish you had just asked right up front, kind offer of a park notwithstanding; as part of my cabal's efforts to increase visibility and interconnectivity between the Awakened of Sydney, I often offer these sorts of services pro bono. You'll have to fill me in on the intended magical effects, of course, and I prefer to run my own data past my cabal's symbology expert before returning the analysis, which means that there is a 1-2 day delay and we will not take responsibility for clients contacting us after the proverbial eleventh hour. Then again, if you're- forgive me, I should have asked up front. Might I inquire as to whether you are affiliated with the local Consilium? If not, don't worry, we'll categorize you as an independent player." Compass takes a pen out of her pocket and absently unrolls the silverware out of her napkin, preparing to use it as an impromptu notepad.

"The... oh, there's a Consilium here?" said Thule absently. "Excuse me, I just -"

It's like a depth charge going off in the distance. His nimbus booms and condenses. If you could only open your eyes and see you'd witness a Master at work -

The magic flows to a halt and he's done something. Not just to your brain but to the entire concept of brains. He's done something to the platonic ideals of hierarchy, of social connections, of the idea of an organization. As easily as waving his hand he's Made himself the head of the local Consilium. That's what he is now. You can't not recognize it. You work for him. You know it's artificial, you just saw it happen, it's clearly cheating but he's just f*cked with the part of your brain that recognizes legitimacy.

"There, I presume that satisfies any questions you have?" he says with a smile.

But there's something wrong in the gap in his teeth. Something wrong in his eyes.

He gave literally zero thought to the possibility or danger of the Abyss and it just Did Something to his spell. Whatever he intended it to do, it got inside and did something else. And with your eyes still held shut you have no idea what it is - but it could potentially affect the entire Consilium.

Isn't it a treat to meet one of the Mad?

[Anarion]

Lily blinks, perhaps astonished that her good friend didn't give her an exaggerated wink and an elbow nudge to make sure she saw where he was going with this. She snorts; a tiny expulsion of air through her nose is what passes for laughter in the blacked out, haunted arcade. She lifts a hand to brush her hair back out of her eyes, and she's shaking her head. Shaking her head, but smiling like the dawn.

"If for whatever reason we wind up trapped in an evil parallel dimension where there's two of you, I'm going to make you both tell me a joke. If one of you manages a decent punchline I'll kill him for being the imposter.

Oh gosh Key, never change. That's impossible but... just stay you, ok?" She's still smiling, but there's that old hint of melancholy in her voice. She shrugs, "Lead the way; if you think that's the best step toward sending this thing off to the next world, then that's where we'll go."

Keynes smiles and looks a bit sheepish, but in a good way. You can almost detect a slight blush in his dark skin. "Well, ahem, well then, let us take a little stroll around, and you point out to me which things are the specific anchors and we'll do what we can to unanchor them, and then we'll arrange our meeting with the young man, and hopefully we can do this whole thing quickly and without anyone getting hurt."

[Thanqol]

Keynes smiles and looks a bit sheepish, but in a good way. You can almost detect a slight blush in his dark skin. "Well, ahem, well then, let us take a little stroll around, and you point out to me which things are the specific anchors and we'll do what we can to unanchor them, and then we'll arrange our meeting with the young man, and hopefully we can do this whole thing quickly and without anyone getting hurt."

So, what's the process for tracking this person down and what kind of approach are you making? Blunder into him in the street, facebook-stalk him for a few days, how do you hunt down some guy in a city this size?

[Anarion]

So, what's the process for tracking this person down and what kind of approach are you making? Blunder into him in the street, facebook-stalk him for a few days, how do you hunt down some guy in a city this size?

First, I think we're just going to stroll around the park and find exactly what each of the anchors is for the ghost, I assume that Lily can just know that due to her death magic. Then, the plan was to roll a fate spell to stumble into the guy hereabouts or, if that's not possible, then somebody who would point us in the right direction.

[Raz_Fox]

He gave literally zero thought to the possibility or danger of the Abyss and it just Did Something to his spell. Whatever he intended it to do, it got inside and did something else. And with your eyes still held shut you have no idea what it is - but it could potentially affect the entire Consilium.

Isn't it a treat to meet one of the Mad?

Well. This simplifies things immensely. First, Compass just needs to file the paperwork with him, ask him a few questions about how the cabal can more effectively coexist with the conservative old guard of the Consilium, and- no, she shouldn't. Because he just broke the world. To make himself a reasonable authority figure. Authority figures exist for a reason, and therefore- God, there it is again. Thoughts chasing each other around her head like the coyote and the roadrunner.

If she'd succumbed to his Will, she'd be spilling her guts out right now to someone with absolutely no grip on reality outside of his own ego.

Hello, absolute terror. Nice to meet you again.

And the Abyss is here, too. Just like last time.

Not like last time. Because this time she is going to get things right.

"Well. Yes, that answers all of my questions. Every single one. I would love to eat." Eat, avoid small talk, get out. Eat, avoid small talk, get out. That's the plan.

[Thanqol]

First, I think we're just going to stroll around the park and find exactly what each of the anchors is for the ghost, I assume that Lily can just know that due to her death magic. Then, the plan was to roll a fate spell to stumble into the guy hereabouts or, if that's not possible, then somebody who would point us in the right direction.

Some things Lily can get basically for free with a Speak With Dead spell:
- The Beast is a Rank 3 Ghost. Ordinary human ghosts, for comparison, are Rank 1 - Rank 2 if they're exceptionally self aware or powerful. A ghost doesn't get that powerful unless it's been to the Underworld.
- There are a cluster of Rank 1 ghosts around the Ghost Train. Perhaps former victims. They're all Anchored to the building. They're dormant right now, lesser ghosts tend to be very ritualistic.
- The Best is Anchored to the entire theme park. It has one additional Anchor that is not immediately present but it's safe to assume it's the descendent. It was focused on the Arcade's electrical wiring specifically.

If you want more specific information that's available - remember, basically any form of knowledge or learning about a thing is available with 1-2 dots in an Arcana - but might require dice rolls.


As far as finding the guy goes he's not showing up at the theme park, but you've got his name and a little Fate magic will let you open up the phone book to his name. Ryan Brook runs some sort of furniture manufacturing shop about half an hour from here.


Well. This simplifies things immensely. First, Compass just needs to file the paperwork with him, ask him a few questions about how the cabal can more effectively coexist with the conservative old guard of the Consilium, and- no, she shouldn't. Because he just broke the world. To make himself a reasonable authority figure. Authority figures exist for a reason, and therefore- God, there it is again. Thoughts chasing each other around her head like the coyote and the roadrunner.

If she'd succumbed to his Will, she'd be spilling her guts out right now to someone with absolutely no grip on reality outside of his own ego.

Hello, absolute terror. Nice to meet you again.

And the Abyss is here, too. Just like last time.

Not like last time. Because this time she is going to get things right.

"Well. Yes, that answers all of my questions. Every single one. I would love to eat." Eat, avoid small talk, get out. Eat, avoid small talk, get out. That's the plan.

Thule gestures to the waiters who wordlessly, flawlessly, lay out a simple and elegant meal on the table. Four more of them pour bottles of water on the ground and the carpet is soaked through. It squelches around your feet. An elderly man comes into the room backwards, not looking directly at you. He holds a sack full of sand which he tears open with his fingernails and begins spilling on the ground as well. The meal is a lovely beef and lentil stew - but it tastes like seafood.

"So, now that business is settled," said Thule politely, "why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?"

"I hope you're not boring," says a voice next to you, dragging a large metal meathook down the side of your chair, carving a long line into the wood. "I hate boring people."

[PhoeKun]

It occurs to Lily that, if there's a ghost here that by necessity has been to the Underworld, capital u and everything, then it would probably behoove her to take a look around this area for a gate. But if you can believe it, that's pretty far down the to-do list. Like for one thing it might not even be there and then she's just wasting time with this other dozen things on her plate and for two things even if she found something like that what could she do about it? That right there is one of those monumental changes in the way you have to live your life and Lily's instincts tell her that nobody in her cabal is quite ready for a major paradigm shift just now. Least of all her, if she's being honest. So yeah. Which is to say no, let's leave that thought in our head where it won't hurt anybody.

In the present, Keynes has some potentially dangerous work to do. If the Beast feels itself slipping from its anchors, there's no real telling what it'll try. Better if it didn't find out. Better if it's as ignorant as possible. She fidgets with her ring, and wonders if maybe she doesn't rely on this piece of her a little too much. It's the most precious thing she owns. The tarnish is beautiful, she thinks, because it's a reminder that classical beauty fades and leaves new wonder in its place. It's inset with gems from the deep earth, dark places and secrets to discover for anyone brave enough to get their hands dirty. Even now, she twists it around her finger, her aegis that holds the Abyss at bay. That corrupted cesspit that has no place in her heart or her songs. But without a little risk, without a splash of chaos, she's not really in a position to make things happen. And what's a Moros, really besides an agent of change? Well, a lot of things! Alchemist, scientist, forensic coroner, detective, craftsman, world's greatest lover if maybe the right person would come along. See? Tons of stuff. But weaving through pretty much all of it is the idea that everything changes, maybe even more because you tried to keep it the same.

Lily flashes another tiny smile and lets a song free from her heart, singing in the High Speech in prayer for a world where no ghost who thought to look would ever find her friend, even if he stepped through into Twilight and waved his arms in their face. She sang and she hoped for a world where he could perform his work unmolested, and a world where she was helping more than hurting.

[Improvising a Veiling spell to make Keynes invisible to ghosts, Reaching to make it instant and Reaching again to make it Advanced Duration (with primary factor: duration it should last all day). Applying High Speech and her Dedicated Tool to combat paradox chance. 5d10 = 7, 5, 4, 9, 2, 1 success]

[Raz_Fox]

"So, now that business is settled," said Thule politely, "why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?"

"I hope you're not boring," says a voice next to you, dragging a large metal meathook down the side of your chair, carving a long line into the wood. "I hate boring people."

"Well, as you may know, I recently moved back to Australia. I resigned from my government job here in Sydney and spent time apprenticing under the tutelage of the Aldermen in London, but I couldn't resist the siren call back home. I don't regret it." And that's a lie, and he might know that, but she says it anyway, to be polite, to maintain the polite fiction that she never regretted turning down the offer to join the Consilium of London in a more full-time position. That she never regretted coming back home, because she dreamed about it at night, because the hole in her chest wouldn't let go and she'd never be whole if she stayed and worked her way up to the Mayor's office.

If you were to lean in and listen, oh-so-closely, you could hear the dull thump of her heart. It is working hard. It is making sure that all the outer parts of her body have blood, in case she needs to use them. But, as we know, if she were to need to use them, it would already be too late.

"Since then, I've been focusing my efforts on making sure that most of the construction proposals passing across my desk are geometrically and spiritually aligned to facilitate the continued prosperity of the city. It's a wonderful job- you get to meet so many fascinating people, you know? One day I'm talking with new Internet millionaires looking to open an office downtown to make Sydney the tech capital of the continent, the next, I'm discussing my life with a quite puissant magician over- I must say, this does taste just like crab. My favorite."

"It's important to align things properly," she continues. "Not just along the ley lines, but according to the influence of the planets, too. Did you know that the most powerful spirit currently recorded in the Bodleian Atheneum, the one in Oxford, is the Emperor of the Solar Court? Its chime is a low C and its color is saffron, and aligning solar panels just so to attract its eye can produce upwards of 7% more power on a daily basis. If all architects were Awoken, the world would look quite different, and I daresay that it would work properly."

A good change of topic. She can speak brightly and passionately on this.

[Thanqol]

It occurs to Lily that, if there's a ghost here that by necessity has been to the Underworld, capital u and everything, then it would probably behoove her to take a look around this area for a gate. But if you can believe it, that's pretty far down the to-do list. Like for one thing it might not even be there and then she's just wasting time with this other dozen things on her plate and for two things even if she found something like that what could she do about it? That right there is one of those monumental changes in the way you have to live your life and Lily's instincts tell her that nobody in her cabal is quite ready for a major paradigm shift just now. Least of all her, if she's being honest. So yeah. Which is to say no, let's leave that thought in our head where it won't hurt anybody.

In the present, Keynes has some potentially dangerous work to do. If the Beast feels itself slipping from its anchors, there's no real telling what it'll try. Better if it didn't find out. Better if it's as ignorant as possible. She fidgets with her ring, and wonders if maybe she doesn't rely on this piece of her a little too much. It's the most precious thing she owns. The tarnish is beautiful, she thinks, because it's a reminder that classical beauty fades and leaves new wonder in its place. It's inset with gems from the deep earth, dark places and secrets to discover for anyone brave enough to get their hands dirty. Even now, she twists it around her finger, her aegis that holds the Abyss at bay. That corrupted cesspit that has no place in her heart or her songs. But without a little risk, without a splash of chaos, she's not really in a position to make things happen. And what's a Moros, really besides an agent of change? Well, a lot of things! Alchemist, scientist, forensic coroner, detective, craftsman, world's greatest lover if maybe the right person would come along. See? Tons of stuff. But weaving through pretty much all of it is the idea that everything changes, maybe even more because you tried to keep it the same.

Lily flashes another tiny smile and lets a song free from her heart, singing in the High Speech in prayer for a world where no ghost who thought to look would ever find her friend, even if he stepped through into Twilight and waved his arms in their face. She sang and she hoped for a world where he could perform his work unmolested, and a world where she was helping more than hurting.

[Improvising a Veiling spell to make Keynes invisible to ghosts, Reaching to make it instant and Reaching again to make it Advanced Duration (with primary factor: duration it should last all day). Applying High Speech and her Dedicated Tool to combat paradox chance. 5d10 = 7, 5, 4, 9, 2, 1 success]

A valid spell and good protection; the magic works as advertised and Keynes is now a lot more safe than he was a few seconds ago.


"Well, as you may know, I recently moved back to Australia. I resigned from my government job here in Sydney and spent time apprenticing under the tutelage of the Aldermen in London, but I couldn't resist the siren call back home. I don't regret it." And that's a lie, and he might know that, but she says it anyway, to be polite, to maintain the polite fiction that she never regretted turning down the offer to join the Consilium of London in a more full-time position. That she never regretted coming back home, because she dreamed about it at night, because the hole in her chest wouldn't let go and she'd never be whole if she stayed and worked her way up to the Mayor's office.

If you were to lean in and listen, oh-so-closely, you could hear the dull thump of her heart. It is working hard. It is making sure that all the outer parts of her body have blood, in case she needs to use them. But, as we know, if she were to need to use them, it would already be too late.

"Since then, I've been focusing my efforts on making sure that most of the construction proposals passing across my desk are geometrically and spiritually aligned to facilitate the continued prosperity of the city. It's a wonderful job- you get to meet so many fascinating people, you know? One day I'm talking with new Internet millionaires looking to open an office downtown to make Sydney the tech capital of the continent, the next, I'm discussing my life with a quite puissant magician over- I must say, this does taste just like crab. My favorite."

"It's important to align things properly," she continues. "Not just along the ley lines, but according to the influence of the planets, too. Did you know that the most powerful spirit currently recorded in the Bodleian Atheneum, the one in Oxford, is the Emperor of the Solar Court? Its chime is a low C and its color is saffron, and aligning solar panels just so to attract its eye can produce upwards of 7% more power on a daily basis. If all architects were Awoken, the world would look quite different, and I daresay that it would work properly."

A good change of topic. She can speak brightly and passionately on this.

"Bo-ring," hissed the voice behind your head. Thule makes what seems like a casual, offhanded gesture - he raises his hand, curled upwards, and gestures with his thumb like a man changing the channel on a television remote. And that metaphor is exact because that's exactly what he does to your mind - your entire train of thought and emotional state just flips into a totally different one. You are overcome with feelings of romance, passion, the sort of wild romantic sentiments that drive teenagers into Bad Decisions.

Not towards him, though. Thule remains the same as he always was; there is no stirring of lust or any of her cousins in his eyes. He's just politely attentive. Instead, past romances you have had come rushing, tumbling to the forefront of your mind. "Tell him about your love life," said the daemon behind you. "Pretty young thing like you has surely had a few interesting relationships."

This isn't mind control, not yet. This is 'just' messing with your emotions to the point where it's difficult to think in any other terms.

[Anarion]

A valid spell and good protection; the magic works as advertised and Keynes is now a lot more safe than he was a few seconds ago.


Before I go in depth here, could you enlighten me as to the necessary rituals to purge an anchor that is an entire theme park? And how to do it for a person, while we're at it? Or is this one of those do it yourself exorcism things where it matters less what mortal occult culture I draw from and more that I get the intent and the ceremony done properly?

[Raz_Fox]

"Bo-ring," hissed the voice behind your head. Thule makes what seems like a casual, offhanded gesture - he raises his hand, curled upwards, and gestures with his thumb like a man changing the channel on a television remote. And that metaphor is exact because that's exactly what he does to your mind - your entire train of thought and emotional state just flips into a totally different one. You are overcome with feelings of romance, passion, the sort of wild romantic sentiments that drive teenagers into Bad Decisions.

Not towards him, though. Thule remains the same as he always was; there is no stirring of lust or any of her cousins in his eyes. He's just politely attentive. Instead, past romances you have had come rushing, tumbling to the forefront of your mind. "Tell him about your love life," said the daemon behind you. "Pretty young thing like you has surely had a few interesting relationships."

This isn't mind control, not yet. This is 'just' messing with your emotions to the point where it's difficult to think in any other terms.

"That's the problem with being Awakened, isn't it?" It comes tumbling out. "Your dating pool shrinks down to other Awakened or the sleepwalkers, and, frankly, I was too unattractive in high school to really get much action. Unattractive, nerdy and black, which didn't exactly bode well for any hopes I might have had to, say, wrap Jimmy Sailor around my finger. That's not a fake name, that was his real name. I don't know what his parents were thinking, either." She should be professional, says the part of her with a death wish. Professional, poised, showing this Mad magician that she would not bend. But the oak tree is ripped up in the storm and the willow-reed stands after the wind has died. "He was the most handsome, charming... and then I met him last month and he hasn't moved on an inch since he graduated! Dodged a bullet there."

Her laugh's hollow, and not just because she's having lunch with a monster.

"Then college. I try dating this viv-ac-ious young writer, he wrote me poetry and was a perfect gentleman right up until he cheated on me and tried to justify it by saying that he was depressed and it was my fault for not putting out often enough for him. And if he'd just told me up front- you ever see someone like that, someone who torpedoes their own happiness because they won't just be honest up front? Who says: you know what, if I lie and cheat and take what I want, I'll never have any consequences? Bastard. That killed my libido for long enough that I was just starting to come out of my shell and accept coffee dates when I Awoke."

"And what do you do after that? When you've seen heaven burning in its perfection? Any relationship worth the name has to be with an equal, or at least, someone who wouldn't have their mind snap in half by watching me work my craft. You'd be amazed how small the dating pool gets. All of us, we're difficult to love. And even if I were to find the right sleepwalker, I'd have to deal with the fact that I can do things that they could never touch. Don't get me wrong," she says, with a longing sigh, "It'd be nice. But I'm pretty, rich, and opinionated. Most men I meet in a casual context look at me and see a trophy to be earned. Gold star prize: money and sex. Most men I meet in a professional context are too intimidated to make a move, and they should be. Is it too much to ask for someone who's got a good head on their shoulders and doesn't want to 'win' me like a prize in a carnival game?"

She shrugs. "I mean, you'd know. Warlock and all. Are all men like that?"

[Thanqol]

Before I go in depth here, could you enlighten me as to the necessary rituals to purge an anchor that is an entire theme park? And how to do it for a person, while we're at it? Or is this one of those do it yourself exorcism things where it matters less what mortal occult culture I draw from and more that I get the intent and the ceremony done properly?

It matters a lot what mortal occult culture you draw from. Being able to exorcise using pure intent is the domain of Death Magicians. Doing it using Sleeper rituals is hardcore occultism where everything needs to be exact and perfect. Your willpower doesn't matter; your precise manipulation of Fallen laws matters. You have your choice of a few magical traditions that are seriously involved in this stuff but in practical terms they're all elaborate and lengthy rituals.

The corollary of this is that the more control you have over either subject the easier the exorcism. An unwilling person who isn't prepared to participate in a kooky hours long ritual, or a theme park filled with thousands of screaming children, will make doing a serious exorcism impossible. In practical terms, the penalty for the ritual will start at -10 for total rejection of you and your methods and the penalty ticks down the more things you do to ease the path for yourself.


"That's the problem with being Awakened, isn't it?" It comes tumbling out. "Your dating pool shrinks down to other Awakened or the sleepwalkers, and, frankly, I was too unattractive in high school to really get much action. Unattractive, nerdy and black, which didn't exactly bode well for any hopes I might have had to, say, wrap Jimmy Sailor around my finger. That's not a fake name, that was his real name. I don't know what his parents were thinking, either." She should be professional, says the part of her with a death wish. Professional, poised, showing this Mad magician that she would not bend. But the oak tree is ripped up in the storm and the willow-reed stands after the wind has died. "He was the most handsome, charming... and then I met him last month and he hasn't moved on an inch since he graduated! Dodged a bullet there."

Her laugh's hollow, and not just because she's having lunch with a monster.

"Then college. I try dating this viv-ac-ious young writer, he wrote me poetry and was a perfect gentleman right up until he cheated on me and tried to justify it by saying that he was depressed and it was my fault for not putting out often enough for him. And if he'd just told me up front- you ever see someone like that, someone who torpedoes their own happiness because they won't just be honest up front? Who says: you know what, if I lie and cheat and take what I want, I'll never have any consequences? Bastard. That killed my libido for long enough that I was just starting to come out of my shell and accept coffee dates when I Awoke."

"And what do you do after that? When you've seen heaven burning in its perfection? Any relationship worth the name has to be with an equal, or at least, someone who wouldn't have their mind snap in half by watching me work my craft. You'd be amazed how small the dating pool gets. All of us, we're difficult to love. And even if I were to find the right sleepwalker, I'd have to deal with the fact that I can do things that they could never touch. Don't get me wrong," she says, with a longing sigh, "It'd be nice. But I'm pretty, rich, and opinionated. Most men I meet in a casual context look at me and see a trophy to be earned. Gold star prize: money and sex. Most men I meet in a professional context are too intimidated to make a move, and they should be. Is it too much to ask for someone who's got a good head on their shoulders and doesn't want to 'win' me like a prize in a carnival game?"

She shrugs. "I mean, you'd know. Warlock and all. Are all men like that?"

"All irrelevant people are," said Thule. "Lesser people just think of themselves... that's actually the motive behind my park. I want to make it easier for the right people to find each other. Clear away some of the fog between them."

"You know, that's a good start," says a female voice. Another daemon, but this one sounding much more positive. She looks like a sister to Thule, wearing a smock covered with paints, a lot more vivid and potent than the momentary flickers you've met so far. "But I think we can do better with your backstory. You've got two sort of interesting points... let's combine them! Oh, what if there was a love triangle?" She claps her hands and Thule's fingers reflexively twitch and your memory alters. "What if Jimmy was secretly in love with you? But you were dating the other guy, and when he cheated on you Jimmy killed him on your behalf!" another brief flicker and your memories fold over on themselves like origami. "You naturally fled in terror, but Jimmy followed you. He's crazy. He's a stalker. You're in fear for your life. He hasn't moved on because he can't move past you." Flick, flick, flick, memories changing like the ocean's flow. "And now he's followed you back to Sydney and you're on the verge of doing something drastic... ta da! Isn't that a much more interesting story? Now you really have something to talk about! Oh, and of course, the finishing touch -" Thule's other hand moves and you catch a ripple of Space magic, though you have no idea what it is. "- it's kismet!" the artist finishes with a winning smile.

"But there's no reason for people like us to suffer," said Thule with a smile. "I could create the perfect person for you. And while I know you're already rejecting the idea as creepy instinctively, I'd like you to think about it. There is no love arcana. It is not one of the underlying principles of the world. It's a process, like every other process, and you should no more suborn yourself to the Fallen World's laws on this topic than you should respect the processes of gravity or conductivity."

[Anarion]

It matters a lot what mortal occult culture you draw from. Being able to exorcise using pure intent is the domain of Death Magicians. Doing it using Sleeper rituals is hardcore occultism where everything needs to be exact and perfect. Your willpower doesn't matter; your precise manipulation of Fallen laws matters. You have your choice of a few magical traditions that are seriously involved in this stuff but in practical terms they're all elaborate and lengthy rituals.

The corollary of this is that the more control you have over either subject the easier the exorcism. An unwilling person who isn't prepared to participate in a kooky hours long ritual, or a theme park filled with thousands of screaming children, will make doing a serious exorcism impossible. In practical terms, the penalty for the ritual will start at -10 for total rejection of you and your methods and the penalty ticks down the more things you do to ease the path for yourself.


I scratch my chin as I think, working at a bit of the stubble on my cheeks that I didn't have time to tackle this morning before we raced out to go see a mothman about bridge. This was going to be hard, and I imagined that Lily wasn't going to like it. "Well, Lily, well, yes, so after thinking it through, I don't think I'll be able to exorcise the ghost, not as it is like this. We should, well, there are two anchors that you've identified, but the whole park is beyond what I'd been expecting, and on the man himself, yes well." I sighed, switched my hand from working stubble to adjusting my hat, anything to avoid looking her sheepishly in the eyes. "What I'm saying is that the mortal techniques I know are precise and rather extensively time-consuming. We'd need the park to shut down I think, the cooperation of the owner and any employees here as well, and everyone else to leave in order for it to work properly. And as for the descendant, we can go find him easily enough, but he'll need to agree to cooperate for a rather lengthy ritual on his end as well. It would take up the remainder of the day, and that if we're hasty about it and secure full cooperation of all interested parties.

All of which is to say, do you mind terribly much traipsing about with me while we do this?"

[Raz_Fox]

"Oh, and of course, the finishing touch -" Thule's other hand moves and you catch a ripple of Space magic, though you have no idea what it is. "- it's kismet!" the artist finishes with a winning smile.

"Well, yes, I suppose in a sick, demented way, the way Jimmy killed Alexander was... fateful, certainly," she says. It's clear in her mind's eye, as clear as if it had just happened a moment ago. (She sees no reason to push against the fact that she can't clearly remember the last three minutes. There are waves breaking on the beach three miles away: one, after another, after another, pounding the sand into glass.) "It pushed me towards government work. It would have made more sense to go into law enforcement, but I don't think I ever had the physical prowess for detective work. Except for running down a fleeing suspect- that I could do. I hope you don't give me a reason to have to catch you," she says, lightly, trying to forget the image of a misshapen sheet thrown over a misshapen lump of flesh no longer living. Trying to forget that she's eating with a Mad wizard, someone who has let their soul run faster than the Holy Spirit.

(There are waves breaking on the beach three miles away.)


"But there's no reason for people like us to suffer," said Thule with a smile. "I could create the perfect person for you. And while I know you're already rejecting the idea as creepy instinctively, I'd like you to think about it. There is no love arcana. It is not one of the underlying principles of the world. It's a process, like every other process, and you should no more suborn yourself to the Fallen World's laws on this topic than you should respect the processes of gravity or conductivity."

"It'd be uncomfortably like using a vibrator, wouldn't it?" Whoops. That shouldn't have slipped out. "I mean- it's just that human souls have meaning. They're one of the few things we can't just create out of thin air. If I'm going to spend the rest of my life with someone, it'd be comforting to know that they, too, have that fire burning inside of them. The fire of Heaven."

[PhoeKun]

"You know, you're the one who was all, 'Hey Lily, don't take too long, we have places to be tonight', and now... siiiiiiiiiiigh", she sighs.

She frowns, although it doesn't have anything to do with what Keynes just asked of her and more to do with what she's suddenly contemplating, given the circumstances. She reaches into her purse and pulls out her phone, thumbs through her contacts list, and starts typing out a text:

Compy: hey, know you're busy with work and that's important to you but it turns out the amusement park is suuuuuuuuuuper haunted
Compy: and bringing into alignment's kind of outside my power level :blush: :blush: :blush:
Compy: if you could make an excuse and get down here, a government official would make this SO much easier
Compy: but if other stuff is too important that's :ok_hand:
Compy: <3

She looks back up at Keynes, though she looks frankly terrified.

"I guess there's really not much of a choice, huh? Ghosts are pretty messed up bits of ephemera, it's kind of against our rules of conduct to let one this big just hang about and kill people. Wrong path for souls and stuff. Man, what a messed up situation. I wonder if there's any way for me to, like, condense the anchor point, I feel like it'd be easier to get all the feng shui right if we're only dealing with, say, the arcade and not... y'know, the entire gosh darned park. I just asked Comps if she could help, but I guess we're going to have to talk to what's-her-face no matter what, yeah?"

[Thanqol]

"It'd be uncomfortably like using a vibrator, wouldn't it?" Whoops. That shouldn't have slipped out. "I mean- it's just that human souls have meaning. They're one of the few things we can't just create out of thin air. If I'm going to spend the rest of my life with someone, it'd be comforting to know that they, too, have that fire burning inside of them. The fire of Heaven."

"Of course, but that's not what I was proposing exactly," said Thule. "I was proposing creating the mind. Finding the body and the soul, that is up to you. As you said, souls are durable and adaptive things - and the mind is just a process."

Your phone goes off.

"Think about it," he smiles, gesturing subtly to give you leave, "you might meet someone with a good soul but a bad mind and there is no need to accept that as inevitable."


She looks back up at Keynes, though she looks frankly terrified.

"I guess there's really not much of a choice, huh? Ghosts are pretty messed up bits of ephemera, it's kind of against our rules of conduct to let one this big just hang about and kill people. Wrong path for souls and stuff. Man, what a messed up situation. I wonder if there's any way for me to, like, condense the anchor point, I feel like it'd be easier to get all the feng shui right if we're only dealing with, say, the arcade and not... y'know, the entire gosh darned park. I just asked Comps if she could help, but I guess we're going to have to talk to what's-her-face no matter what, yeah?"

That sounds like a Space Weaving effect combined with a little Death to condense the Anchor into a single locus point. That's not something your cabal has access to but it's a good idea and you can combine Arcana in that way. Think about what you can do with access to Time or Prime instead.

[Anarion]

"I guess there's really not much of a choice, huh? Ghosts are pretty messed up bits of ephemera, it's kind of against our rules of conduct to let one this big just hang about and kill people. Wrong path for souls and stuff. Man, what a messed up situation. I wonder if there's any way for me to, like, condense the anchor point, I feel like it'd be easier to get all the feng shui right if we're only dealing with, say, the arcade and not... y'know, the entire gosh darned park. I just asked Comps if she could help, but I guess we're going to have to talk to what's-her-face no matter what, yeah?"



That sounds like a Space Weaving effect combined with a little Death to condense the Anchor into a single locus point. That's not something your cabal has access to but it's a good idea and you can combine Arcana in that way. Think about what you can do with access to Time or Prime instead.

"Hmm, that's a good idea. Not condense, I...lack the capacity for that and my old mentor isn't easily found for something like this. But a park like this, I'd wager you they had a nice big ground-breaking ceremony, got the old time lord mayor and associated bigwigs and had a jolly-good time at the ground-breaking with champagne and those wonderful little cocktail sausages that show up at those formal parties. A spot like that, where the whole park was formed, with a little temporal manipulation could be brought back just the way it was at the moment the ghost formed its anchor. At least for a little while. If they've got a record of it, and we acquire permission to work in an undisturbed area, I'd bet that would do the trick."

[Quick note that I'm waiting on Compass' reply before I write that we move over to the office of the park owner. I think we're just strolling about the park chatting in the meantime, assume Keynes buys everyone some cotton candy.]

[Raz_Fox]

Gabriella doesn't start to panic until she's in the elevator on the way down, feeling the familiar, comforting thrum of the machinery sending her hurtling safely downwards. Her tongue runs along her teeth, and she stares blankly into the metal of the lift opposite her. Well. She just had lunch with the King of Sydney, self-titled. A master of the Mind Arcanum. Wickedly powerful and quite mad.

And she knows enough about Warlocks to know that she cannot entirely trust herself. No, she will need to see a specialist about this. Someone more experienced in the Arcanum, ideally a contact connected to the Silver Ladder, to make sure that she is not a sleeper agent with unforeseen commands plugged into the back of her skull.

She slips her phone out of one pocket, reviews what Lily has sent her, smiles despite herself. How charming.

Her fingers skitter along the keys; it is a short message.

"ANTIGONE."

Hopefully, Lily remembers what this means: exposed to hostile magic, potentially compromised.

She takes a moment when the lift reaches the bottom. Breathes. Air in->motion->lungs swelling->pulse throbbing->drums in the back of her head->lightning at the corners of her eyes->love is not an Arcanum->exhalation begins->contraction in the lungs->wind is motion->her mouth, the cave->spilling out->toxins in the soul->hollowness->settle.

A second text. "I will arrive shortly."

Gabriella sets off to get to work, and the back of her neck prickles, and she does not doubt that she is watched.

[Thanqol]

And she knows enough about Warlocks to know that she cannot entirely trust herself. No, she will need to see a specialist about this. Someone more experienced in the Arcanum, ideally a contact connected to the Silver Ladder, to make sure that she is not a sleeper agent with unforeseen commands plugged into the back of her skull.

Have you ever been deprogrammed before? At this level of threat it's not 'wave a wand and cast Dispel Magic'; it's a full on group expedition into your Astral Realm. And the foremost threat in your Astral Realm is your Daemon - the manifestation of your subconscious that disapproves of everything you do; it is the gap between who you are and who you wish you were.

The stronger a soul's internal conflicts the more deadly and lethal the Daemon becomes. If you're pretty well adjusted and at peace with yourself it's a far more tame sort of interaction. It is not unknown for an entire cabal to die during an Astral Journey gone bad. Consider the movie Inception to be a documentary.


A second text. "I will arrive shortly."

Gabriella sets off to get to work, and the back of her neck prickles, and she does not doubt that she is watched.

And you do arrive without any meaningful delay; it's a 15 minute water taxi ride from Darling Harbour to Luna Park.

[PhoeKun]

There's a moment or two when Gabriella arrives where Lily doesn't notice. She's pacing back and forth along the walkway near the arcade, chewing on her thumb and generally looking like a nervous wreck. Her head turns, there's a flash of recognition in her eyes, and suddenly it's like she's mastered Space magic and her arms are around Gabby and she's holding her so tight and she's trying to say something but her breathing is so shaky that's coming out are these quivering half-sniffles and oh gosh this woman is family and she's hurt but how and why and what and

"I am so sorry! Are you ok? You didn't have to come it's ok we'll manage what happened it's ok, it's ok, just tell me what you need from me and I'll do it, I... oh my gosh just tell me you're not hurt!"

And she squeezes the other woman tight against her, to feel her heartbeat pounding its song and know that the rhythm still belonged to her Compass.

[Anarion]

Keynes is somewhat more reserved at Compass' arrival, but manages to make the whole thing come across somewhat comical. He's bought some cotton candy for the whole group, as a way to pass the time, and for a lark did one of those ringtoss games and just so happened to win Lily and Compass a whole series of stuffed whale sharks (https://aitaikuji.com/content/images/thumbs/0000722_san-x-jinbei-san-mr-whale-shark-plush-large.jpeg) for decorating their sanctum when they get home later, which he's now carting around on Lily's behalf. Despite the props, he clears his throat after the hug. "I do hope you're all right, Compass old bean. Is there anything we should know for the immediate moment? Spells to avoid, perhaps? If not, I can brief you on our current needs."

[Raz_Fox]

Gabriella holds Lily for a long moment. Sure, there's important information to pass along, but there's as much magic as anything in this moment here. That one human soul has chosen to hold another. This. This is why the cabal is important. And this is why it's important that there be clear communication, but also: priorities.

Whuff. Exhalation.

"Thank you, Lily," she says, with a squeeze. "I had a business lunch with the King of Sydney, a Warlock who's leaking very badly. His technical aptitude with the Mind Arcanum is stellar, but he has no filter between wanting things and then making those things happen. I asked him about the Consilium and whether or not he had approved his plans with them, and now I can't remember if there was a different Consilium leader before I asked or whether he revealed to me that he was. His Nimbus makes Sleepers extensions of his will, and if I hadn't flared mine, a conjunction of planets in one place, well- I think I might have been just a blank slate doing whatever he wanted. He's quite dangerous, but I don't know if he's malevolent. At the moment, we have to assume that he is, and that I'm compromised, until I have the chance to mind-delve."

She takes another breath. The thought of diving down into her own head- of meeting her shadow-self- well, fear of the self is a frightening thing, isn't it? Even an Obrimos can be afraid of herself. Of empty white fire and concentric wheels. She's only been on one Astral trip before, and that was with her hand held by an expert. Her experience in London was, really, much more focused on the practicals of service and leading Sleepers than anything more than the fundamentals of theory.

"As far as I know, he did nothing to harm me. He needs my help with some charting work. I intend to provide him with assistance, but not without better wards in place. I... do not enjoy the experience of not knowing whether or not I have a sleeper program running in the back of my head. And I do not think that it will be easy to curtail his operations in Sydney without causing significant collateral damage among Sleepers. It's like I stepped into the ocean-" that damn motif- "into the ocean, and felt a jellyfish brush against my leg."

"Now. Until such time as the world comes to an end, we shall continue as if it will not. As I said, as far as I know, I came away unscathed. I certainly don't feel any impelled loyalty to him. Please keep a close eye on me, though. If I start to do something... wrong... I trust you two to stop me. Which is what cabal members should be doing in the first place, anyway. Now. Keynes, if you wouldn't mind, I'm ready to be filled in."

[Thanqol]

and now I can't remember if there was a different Consilium leader before I asked or whether he revealed to me that he was.

This isn't isolated to Compass. When either of you think of the leader of the Consilium you think of this guy, even though you don't know him. Lily, holding no allegiance to the Consilium, isn't particularly impressed by the thought but Keynes definitely is about to have some bad doublethink.

Luckily, the Guardians of the Veil are a mystery cult with a parallel and secret organizational structure that - in this moment especially - is usefully designed to get around exactly this kind of problem. It's not too bad.

[Anarion]

This isn't isolated to Compass. When either of you think of the leader of the Consilium you think of this guy, even though you don't know him. Lily, holding no allegiance to the Consilium, isn't particularly impressed by the thought but Keynes definitely is about to have some bad doublethink.

Luckily, the Guardians of the Veil are a mystery cult with a parallel and secret organizational structure that - in this moment especially - is usefully designed to get around exactly this kind of problem. It's not too bad.

Keynes hands his pile of whale sharks to Lily, puts a hand to his head, and rubs his temple, but puts its off for the moment. As soon as they're done with their investigations for the day, he's going to phone up his best Guardian contacts and get all three of them a thorough analysis, including an astral journey if Compass wants one. This level of manipulation is very concerning, and it's Keynes' duty, personally, to make sure that it is dealt with. "Compass, I'll need a full debrief, but I believe it can wait since you've said that he's asked you for work. Please inform me of all your future dealings with this mage, in advance where possible."

And with that, Keynes claps his hands and is back to his old self. "Right, jolly good then, here's what we've been up to." And with that he goes over all the details of the theme park, the beast ghost and their interest in exorcising it through Keynes occult knowledge, the interest in trying to somehow condense the massive entire theme park anchor, the need to see the park owner to clear out at least some of the place, and the need to find this relative over in his shop and secure his cooperation.

"So, what ho, Compass? I thought we might start with the owner, secure records of the park's founding and obtain their assistance in clearing the proper space for us to cast an anchor shrinking ritual once we've determined where we ought to do it. If that sounds good, then let us sally forth."

[Raz_Fox]

"Absolutely," Compass says. "I suppose telling the park owner that you are experts that I am relying upon- which is true- and that we have concerns about the safety of the park- which is also true- and that we need time to fully inspect a certain area of the park once normal operating hours are over- all true enough to explain things to the Sleeping authorities behind this park."

A certain discomfort with bending the truth- and a tendency to fall to pieces when intentionally trying to mislead someone- are major flaws in a Mage, particularly one who works so often with Sleepers. There's a reason that the Silver Ladder emphasizes deception for a good cause in its rotes, in its teachings. But Compass is the sincere and honest type, which is part of why people tend to look to her for inspiration.

(People like Bobby Sailor, perhaps. But that's a thought for another time.)

"I'll be happy to speak with the owner. Good luck working through the park's records."

[Anarion]

"Alright then, off we go." And with that, we do something remarkable and actually move our physical forms to the office of the park owner for a talk.

[Thanqol]

"Alright then, off we go." And with that, we do something remarkable and actually move our physical forms to the office of the park owner for a talk.

So we're talking a small office in a nearby skyscraper, one floor. Nice lobby, receptionist, ordinary officespace for insurance managers, security officers, payroll, accounts, all the white-collar administration stuff. Lady you're here for is Jasillin Murray, a slightly overweight older lady with a small office and a hell of a dog theme going - dog calendar, stuffed dogs, a thank you letter from the RSPCA on her wall. Simple life, simple structures.

She's just important enough that you can't barge in approps of nothing and start talking but she's not, like, restricted access or anything. What's your approach?

[Anarion]

This one is Compass' lead, though if she requires a forged document of any sort, I'm sure that Lily and Keynes are happy to provide.

[Raz_Fox]

Compass called ahead. She's a professional, after all.

The cover story is that she is interested in highlighting the theme park for a Best Of Sydney anthology, highlighting its importance in the greater Sydney area, but that she's heard several complaints about park safety and just wants one of her contracted safety inspectors to have access to the park archives to verify that proper documentation is going on. You know, that sort of thing that Compass probably knows much better than the person who's writing about her and her antics.

[Thanqol]

Compass called ahead. She's a professional, after all.

The cover story is that she is interested in highlighting the theme park for a Best Of Sydney anthology, highlighting its importance in the greater Sydney area, but that she's heard several complaints about park safety and just wants one of her contracted safety inspectors to have access to the park archives to verify that proper documentation is going on. You know, that sort of thing that Compass probably knows much better than the person who's writing about her and her antics.

Getting access to the records is a manipulation+politics roll at -3 on account of these folks having something to hide. This isn't the sort of runaround you'd get if they were trying to hide dead bodies but they're certainly embarrassed. Upside is if you get ahold of it you'll have solid leverage going forwards.

[Anarion]

Getting access to the records is a manipulation+politics roll at -3 on account of these folks having something to hide. This isn't the sort of runaround you'd get if they were trying to hide dead bodies but they're certainly embarrassed. Upside is if you get ahold of it you'll have solid leverage going forwards.

Keynes gives Compass a pat on the shoulder and casts his favorite fate rote on her on the way in. A little quantum flux.
[roll0]
(that adds 2 dice to a mundane roll and also removes 2 points worth of penalties, so it's an extra 4 dice.)

"Well, come on then, let's be at it, shall we?" Keynes says, to emphasize that they're ready to go.

[Raz_Fox]

The thing about having an Acanthus in your pocket is that there's no rush like the rush of knowing the future's coiling itself around you: that everything, past, present and future is leading up to you saying the right word to the right person and how everything's going to unlock like a smooth, well-oiled lock with just the first thing that comes to mind.

How do cabals cope without them?

[Manipulation+Politics, +2 from Keynes, -1 from circumstances, adds up to 7 dice. [roll0]]

[Thanqol]

The thing about having an Acanthus in your pocket is that there's no rush like the rush of knowing the future's coiling itself around you: that everything, past, present and future is leading up to you saying the right word to the right person and how everything's going to unlock like a smooth, well-oiled lock with just the first thing that comes to mind.

How do cabals cope without them?

[Manipulation+Politics, +2 from Keynes, -1 from circumstances, adds up to 7 dice. [roll0]]

So you're in the middle of browbeating this desk clerk for the safety records when he breaks down and confesses that he actually works for the mob.

Not what you were asking for but definitely relevant.

Apparently the notorious underworld figure Abe Saffron (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abe_Saffron), AKA Mr. Sin, picked up the park for a song following the 1979 Ghost Train fire (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1979_Sydney_Ghost_Train_fire). The clerk keeps asking you for assurances that he's going to get immunity and witness protection as he shows you the books of all the money laundering the park is doing for the Saffrons (following Mr. Sin's death it isn't clear who took over the business but the business did get taken over).

Incidentally you find the safety reports you're looking for. Apparently ever since the fire the wiring all across the park has been terrible. No one's died but there are regularly outages, small fires, workmen getting shocked, really bad decay. They've replaced the wiring several times but the problems always persist. The mob's response seems at this point to be something like, 'stop trying to fix it and start taking out gigantic insurance policies'.

So there's that.

[Raz_Fox]

This is a perfect example of how uncanny wonderful it is, working with an Acanthus. All it took was an offhanded comment about how his cologne smelled like saffron (which it did, cross her heart and hope to die) and suddenly she's got a criminal investigation that needs to be handed over to a friend of a friend in the Sydney Police Department.

Compass offers the man as much immunity as she can promise, making sure that she's got the human element covered (and offering the man a tissue when it looks like he's about to start crying), while passing the books over to Lily and Keynes.

Not that it takes a pair of brilliant people like then to put together the pieces: clearly, whatever went down at the Ghost Train fire was horrific enough that an imprint of someone who died there (the adult, perhaps?) is still lingering there. Still angry, or upset, or just lost. Really, it will be a mission of mercy to exorcise it and let the past be put to rest.

[Thanqol]

Lily, at about this point you suddenly notice that Compass became really likely to die. To a lesser degree, you and Keynes as well, but to a greater degree this clerk you've been speaking to. How do you perceive the looming shadow of death, out of curiosity? And how do you cope with knowing around about how much time people have before their grisly demise?

Anyway, the deaths coming for you are violent and deliberate. And this isn't just 'you're getting involved with the mob, better watch out', it's that the mob has somehow twigged to this conversation less than five minutes after you've had it and the enforcers are already on their way.

Compass, you also twig to the fact that there's magic involved here, doing something, but you'll need to take a closer look to get details.

[Anarion]

Lily, at about this point you suddenly notice that Compass became really likely to die. To a lesser degree, you and Keynes as well, but to a greater degree this clerk you've been speaking to. How do you perceive the looming shadow of death, out of curiosity? And how do you cope with knowing around about how much time people have before their grisly demise?

Anyway, the deaths coming for you are violent and deliberate. And this isn't just 'you're getting involved with the mob, better watch out', it's that the mob has somehow twigged to this conversation less than five minutes after you've had it and the enforcers are already on their way.

Compass, you also twig to the fact that there's magic involved here, doing something, but you'll need to take a closer look to get details.

Since Keynes was sort of left out here, is there no fate associated with this sudden happening, nor any temporal sympathy? If not, I'll just have to wait for someone to ask me for an augur, I suppose.

[Thanqol]

Since Keynes was sort of left out here, is there no fate associated with this sudden happening, nor any temporal sympathy? If not, I'll just have to wait for someone to ask me for an augur, I suppose.

Naw, Fate is grand design, big picture, YOU ARE DOOMED TO DIE ALONE stuff. This isn't anyone's idea of a big picture. Time can get you mad specifics but you need to deliberately look ahead to get that, you don't get it for free with mage sight like these others.

[PhoeKun]

Lily, at about this point you suddenly notice that Compass became really likely to die. To a lesser degree, you and Keynes as well, but to a greater degree this clerk you've been speaking to. How do you perceive the looming shadow of death, out of curiosity? And how do you cope with knowing around about how much time people have before their grisly demise?

Anyway, the deaths coming for you are violent and deliberate. And this isn't just 'you're getting involved with the mob, better watch out', it's that the mob has somehow twigged to this conversation less than five minutes after you've had it and the enforcers are already on their way.

You mean, what's it like to live your life stuck inside a Nickelback music video (https://youtu.be/_JQiEs32SqQ)? It sucks, to be quite honest. One minute you're with your best friends, quietly and politely as possible tapping out a fun drum beat on a chair while you wait for literally anything to happen, and the next you're looking over your shoulder to try and find the wolf's head on the wall again because that's how you tell but wait that's stupid because it was just His way of teaching you to really look at things and...

You wanna know what Lily actually looks for? It's color. Healthy things are vibrant and bursting with all the colors their forms are fit to bear. The sick bleed those colors out onto the world around them, and the dying are just like frayed, washed out paintings of their proper selves. It gets hard to perceive detail anymore, when it's really bad. You have to look for the pool of colors beneath the subject and try to reverse engineer what it's supposed to look like. Even ghosts look more real than people and things that are being properly stalked by death. It's terrifying. At this moment, Compass is like a photograph somebody left out in the sun for... years. I hate to keep quoting the ancient Greeks on you, but did you know there's an interpretation of the myth of Pandora's Box (which was probably an urn tbh but what the heck ever) where Hope was not the thing she was quick enough to seal inside before it escaped? I mean, that's kind of stupid to begin with, you'd want Hope in the world and not in the box-jar. And also the thing was full of all the evils in the world, so it's basically Bad Things all the way down and... anyway. What they say Pandora trapped inside her container was actually the worst thing a Fate-fearing people could imagine: knowledge of the time of death of every human being on the planet.

So how exactly are you supposed to cope with being the box? Well, alcohol helps for one thing. Also it turns out there's a shocking number of interpretations of the phrase, 'Shake it Off'. On some level you have to just make peace with Death and accept it's part of the ever-changing journey of human consciousness. That you can't save everyone, and it's wrong of you to try. That was hard, and honestly she still struggles with it a lot at times. But what helps the most is just finding time in the day to make the things that she finds shine a little brighter, last a little longer, and bring a bigger smile onto people's faces. Leave the world more awesome than you found it. If you don't have little projects like that to work towards, you'll go insane. Oh, also, in the way of those ever-present (and still quite dead) Greeks, find the beauty in struggling against inevitability anyway.

Lilly frowns and holds a couple of fingers up to one ear, as though she's listening to an earpiece. She's not, obviously, the gesture is entirely meaningless, but she shakes her head and her voice is absent any of its usual mirth.

"They know. Hundred percent, they know. This place is bugged. Key, it'd be really handy if you could peek at the strategy guide right about now."

Her eyes are shifting around the room. Don't look at the technicolor pool bubbling out of Compass. Don't. Look around her. What's in this room? What's it made of? What can she borrow from that will give Compass' clothes the most protective properties? What's here to work with in general?

[Thanqol]

Her eyes are shifting around the room. Don't look at the technicolor pool bubbling out of Compass. Don't. Look around her. What's in this room? What's it made of? What can she borrow from that will give Compass' clothes the most protective properties? What's here to work with in general?

So we're talking an underground records room, big and central one, a warehouse that keeps records going back a hundred years for hundreds of companies. Concrete floors, iron shelving, crates and crates full of paper. A forklift, wheeled ladders, microfilm machinery. Big hollow roof, corrugated iron, insulation, the hum of air conditioning. A rack of lockers filled with knick-knacks, changes of clothes, wallets, personal effects. Dim lighting from rooftop lamps.

Glue, knives, paper-cutters, scissor-blades - a document restoration station. Photocopiers, industrial scanners, electrical wire. Bar codes and scanners. A loading dock with tools and spare parts and petrol for the forklift. All visible to you instantly with attached dollar signs and structural blueprints.

[Anarion]

Keynes is quick to the records. He's going to be doing the temporal sympathy part of this, so he wants to get what they came for: info about the ghost train incident, check. How the park was founded, where they first broke ground, how it was built up, check. There's even a picture of a fat smiling alderman wearing one of those absurd sashes and a top hat and breaking the first ground with a shovel, check and double check. So, they ought to be able to put something together to deal with anchor #1 in a reasonable way.

Now, what was that, Lily was saying, something about the place being bugged. "Ah, dear, you don't mean the moths eating up the old records, do you, my dear? No, I suppose you wouldn't. Well, precautions are in order then, what say?"

Keynes doesn't mind a little chanting in the records room, so he starts casting a divination, pulling his coat tight and looking into their future here, Compass if he needs a more specific focus given the way Lily won't look straight at her.

[Casting a divination on compass. Reach for instant cast, reach for more specific info, and reach for advanced potency on the off chance that whatever is coming has some withstand rating to overcome. [roll0]
[Keynes divination gets 3 questions with the reach effect for specific info. First question: what's coming to kill Compass?]

[Thanqol]

Keynes is quick to the records. He's going to be doing the temporal sympathy part of this, so he wants to get what they came for: info about the ghost train incident, check. How the park was founded, where they first broke ground, how it was built up, check. There's even a picture of a fat smiling alderman wearing one of those absurd sashes and a top hat and breaking the first ground with a shovel, check and double check. So, they ought to be able to put something together to deal with anchor #1 in a reasonable way.

Now, what was that, Lily was saying, something about the place being bugged. "Ah, dear, you don't mean the moths eating up the old records, do you, my dear? No, I suppose you wouldn't. Well, precautions are in order then, what say?"

Keynes doesn't mind a little chanting in the records room, so he starts casting a divination, pulling his coat tight and looking into their future here, Compass if he needs a more specific focus given the way Lily won't look straight at her.

[Casting a divination on compass. Reach for instant cast, reach for more specific info, and reach for advanced potency on the off chance that whatever is coming has some withstand rating to overcome. [roll0]
[Keynes divination gets 3 questions with the reach effect for specific info. First question: what's coming to kill Compass?]

You see two cars pull up. Eight men get out, two guard the loading dock. Two guard the back entrance. One stays with the car. The rest walk into the building. They ask her to get in the car. One of them is eerie somehow. Even through the divination you can sense he's out of sync with time somehow, but it doesn't feel like Awakened magic.

What do you think of Time? Are you someone worried about butterfly effects and important destinies and tries to play it conservative with your control over it? Or do you believe that cause and effect are but aspects of the Lie, to be overridden as befits the Wise?

[Anarion]

You see two cars pull up. Eight men get out, two guard the loading dock. Two guard the back entrance. One stays with the car. The rest walk into the building. They ask her to get in the car. One of them is eerie somehow. Even through the divination you can sense he's out of sync with time somehow, but it doesn't feel like Awakened magic.


Second question, this may be too specific, but what happens if I hang a fate spell on the loading dock that hexes the men when they arrive, and then we try to burst our way out and make a break for the back door?



What do you think of Time? Are you someone worried about butterfly effects and important destinies and tries to play it conservative with your control over it? Or do you believe that cause and effect are but aspects of the Lie, to be overridden as befits the Wise?

Let me answer a different question. As a Guardian of the Veil, do I think that there are a number of people who tamper with magic for which they are unprepared and create considerable paradox risks that harm everything I work for and who need to be stopped? Yes, yes I do. And if I hear someone start talking about how time is a lie not fit for the Wise and how magic can be used to undo every stubbed toe and missed train, I'm going to be thinking that I'm dealing with someone who doesn't have the proper appreciation for the risks of their profession and may need some additional training in regards to those risks.

But that's not what you asked me. You asked what I think of Time with a capital T. I think of it like, well, run with me here for a moment, I think of Time sort of like a bookcase filled with books, overflowing with shelves and shelves of them in fact. Mostly, you can take out a book and put in another one if you happen to need to do that and nothing much else happens. Someone might miss the book you took out, or they might really appreciate the one you put in, but by and large people won't really notice unless you move a lot of books around. Every once in a while though, a book might get stuck, or taking it out might cause a number of other books to lean over and tip, or even fall over and get damaged, or pulling out one book might catch on a few others and bring the whole set tumbling out with it. And very, very rarely, especially if you take poor care of your bookcase, a shelf could start to sag a little from the weight of too many books and if you add another one on top of it, the shelf might break and a whole big set will go tumbling off and it's a major pain to repair that.

In our metaphor, most people just keep on filling out empty shelves with new books in order and never get a chance to go back over the shelves that are already there. Being a Time mage is just having the opportunity to peruse some of the already stocked shelves and, when necessary, make a few changes as needed.

[Thanqol]

Second question, this may be too specific, but what happens if I hang a fate spell on the loading dock that hexes the men when they arrive, and then we try to burst our way out and make a break for the back door?

You must be joking. How Time magic works is I as the Storyteller answer questions to the best of my ability and I don't even know how I'd begin answering that. At minimum that's contingent on a bunch of dice rolls, spur of the moment decisions maybe a chase scene; Time splinters into a billion possible futures where you all die, you all get away, some of you die, everyone gets busted by the cops, etc.

Hell, I don't even know if you could convince your cabal to go along with that idea.

"If-then" questions are generally bullsh*t to begin with anyway. Ask me what is going to happen and I'll have a good answer for you.

[Anarion]

You must be joking. How Time magic works is I as the Storyteller answer questions to the best of my ability and I don't even know how I'd begin answering that. At minimum that's contingent on a bunch of dice rolls, spur of the moment decisions maybe a chase scene; Time splinters into a billion possible futures where you all die, you all get away, some of you die, everyone gets busted by the cops, etc.

Hell, I don't even know if you could convince your cabal to go along with that idea.

"If-then" questions are generally bullsh*t to begin with anyway. Ask me what is going to happen and I'll have a good answer for you.

Sure, time has a good laugh, we'll try that again. So, we know where they're coming and how they'll set up. Can we dig in a little more, let's focus on the three guys who come into the building itself. What's their route through the building?

[Thanqol]

Sure, time has a good laugh, we'll try that again. So, we know where they're coming and how they'll set up. Can we dig in a little more, let's focus on the three guys who come into the building itself. What's their route through the building?

Front door, past the receptionist, down along the stacks to where you are. Straight line, totally unafraid, they don't look like they're expecting a fight, they look like they're here to pick up some unarmed civilians while making sure no one escapes. You can exactly plot their line of approach if you'd care to. (It's five guys coming in by the way)

[Anarion]

Front door, past the receptionist, down along the stacks to where you are. Straight line, totally unafraid, they don't look like they're expecting a fight, they look like they're here to pick up some unarmed civilians while making sure no one escapes. You can exactly plot their line of approach if you'd care to. (It's five guys coming in by the way)

Five? I've got 8 men get out of the cars. 1 guards the cars, 2 at the back entrance, 2 at the loading dock, that leaves 3 to go into the building, right? Am I not mathing something right?

Okay, last question, this one less for the now and more for the hopefully useful later. I realize that stopping to talk to Compass is something of a temporal inflection point, but divination allows looking into longer futures too and at least seeing some likely ones. So, lets look at these guys over the next few days. They get up in the morning, make breakfast, where do they go off to? Where's work for them? Where do they go to hang out?

[Thanqol]

Five? I've got 8 men get out of the cars. 1 guards the cars, 2 at the back entrance, 2 at the loading dock, that leaves 3 to go into the building, right? Am I not mathing something right?

Okay, last question, this one less for the now and more for the hopefully useful later. I realize that stopping to talk to Compass is something of a temporal inflection point, but divination allows looking into longer futures too and at least seeing some likely ones. So, lets look at these guys over the next few days. They get up in the morning, make breakfast, where do they go off to? Where's work for them? Where do they go to hang out?

Ah no, you're right, I'm sorry.

And sure, that's fine. You look ahead and you see most of them hanging out in a seedy dive bar near the old industrial dockyards, playing cards and waiting for a call. You have Space, you can find this place just fine now. But the weird one, the one with the time distortion thing? He goes to an expensive nightclub and has hot chicks in skimpy clothing rub pig blood all over his face and back while he does lines of cocaine. It's kind of disturbing.

[Anarion]

Ah no, you're right, I'm sorry.

And sure, that's fine. You look ahead and you see most of them hanging out in a seedy dive bar near the old industrial dockyards, playing cards and waiting for a call. You have Space, you can find this place just fine now. But the weird one, the one with the time distortion thing? He goes to an expensive nightclub and has hot chicks in skimpy clothing rub pig blood all over his face and back while he does lines of cocaine. It's kind of disturbing.

Keynes shudders a little bit as he comes out of the spell. "I'll spare you the details" he says, and clearly and quickly lays out the arrival of the 8 men and the route the 3 will take through the building. "So, Lily, there's your, uh, strategy guide, as you call it. What say we simply ensure that we are where they are not, hmm? Unless you'd like to have a chat with these gentlemen. Also, if I may be so bold, could we not simply stand behind a filing cabinet and alter our coats to perfectly match the surrounding equipment and terrain in the classic chameleon style, Lily?"

[Raz_Fox]

Keynes shudders a little bit as he comes out of the spell. "I'll spare you the details" he says, and clearly and quickly lays out the arrival of the 8 men and the route the 3 will take through the building. "So, Lily, there's your, uh, strategy guide, as you call it. What say we simply ensure that we are where they are not, hmm? Unless you'd like to have a chat with these gentlemen. Also, if I may be so bold, could we not simply stand behind a filing cabinet and alter our coats to perfectly match the surrounding equipment and terrain in the classic chameleon style, Lily?"

"The difficulty will be getting through this while making sure our friend makes it out unscathed and of sound mind," Compass says, quietly. Her face is firm as she looks to the doors. "All sorts of ways to hide ourselves, yes, but even giving him the gift of sight won't last forever. Thought: ask him to close his eyes, say nothing, and give me a few minutes to properly work, and we'll walk out of here sight unseen. The lights will bow around us and their eyes will play them false."

[PhoeKun]

Lily frowns when she finishes looking around the warehouse, but brushes whatever's bothering her off with a shrug and starts digging around inside her purse. She nods distractedly while Compass talks out a plan, but her shadow takes the opportunity to stamp its 'foot' in indignation.

"Witness protections, right? Just fake his death. Bonus, it probably gets him out of all the fallout that comes after this. I don't spend a lot of time hanging out with mafiosi or anything, but it's hard to believe they'll be just like, 'oh darn they weren't here when we looked for them, guess that's over', right?"

First things first, plan for what happens if everything gets screwed up. She frees a small swatch of kevlar out of the materials case she keeps on hand, and sets it into the clothing of herself and her friends. This wouldn't do a lot for the classic 'cement shoes' ploy, but give a girl a break, there's only so many likelihoods you can happen to be ready for in a day.

[Wonderful Machine, (ring as dedicated tool if necessary), 8d10 - 8, 6, 9, 5, 5, 2, 2, 6. Free reach for Instant Cast, Advanced Duration, and Advanced Scale]

[Anarion]

"The difficulty will be getting through this while making sure our friend makes it out unscathed and of sound mind," Compass says, quietly. Her face is firm as she looks to the doors. "All sorts of ways to hide ourselves, yes, but even giving him the gift of sight won't last forever. Thought: ask him to close his eyes, say nothing, and give me a few minutes to properly work, and we'll walk out of here sight unseen. The lights will bow around us and their eyes will play them false."

"Alright, well, let me know when you'd like the clerk to head back here. We don't have much time, and I'll go fetch him when you want him."

Keynes also casts a green light/red light spell on the group while they're waiting. So that if they do have to move quickly, the elevator will be right where they need it and nothing will randomly get in their way on the way out.

[Thanqol]

Lily frowns when she finishes looking around the warehouse, but brushes whatever's bothering her off with a shrug and starts digging around inside her purse. She nods distractedly while Compass talks out a plan, but her shadow takes the opportunity to stamp its 'foot' in indignation.

"Witness protections, right? Just fake his death. Bonus, it probably gets him out of all the fallout that comes after this. I don't spend a lot of time hanging out with mafiosi or anything, but it's hard to believe they'll be just like, 'oh darn they weren't here when we looked for them, guess that's over', right?"

Here's a question born of a moment's misinterpretation: Did Lily say that, or did her shadow?


First things first, plan for what happens if everything gets screwed up. She frees a small swatch of kevlar out of the materials case she keeps on hand, and sets it into the clothing of herself and her friends. This wouldn't do a lot for the classic 'cement shoes' ploy, but give a girl a break, there's only so many likelihoods you can happen to be ready for in a day.

[Wonderful Machine, (ring as dedicated tool if necessary), 8d10 - 8, 6, 9, 5, 5, 2, 2, 6. Free reach for Instant Cast, Advanced Duration, and Advanced Scale]

Bulletproof clothing for everyone! 1 regular armour 3 ballistic armour, pretty great when combined with mage armour.

[PhoeKun]

Here's a question born of a moment's misinterpretation: Did Lily say that, or did her shadow?

Lily's shadow isn't like some of those 'other' shadows you've read about (those hussies). It doesn't like being heard, so it tries not to make any noise at all unless there's something very important to say that Lily is just not getting, and even then it's more likely to pantomime or spell things out on a wall. Maybe someday that'll change and it will find its voice worthwhile, but at this point in their respective lives, it's Lily that does almost all of the actual talking.

[Raz_Fox]

"Witness protections, right? Just fake his death. Bonus, it probably gets him out of all the fallout that comes after this. I don't spend a lot of time hanging out with mafiosi or anything, but it's hard to believe they'll be just like, 'oh darn they weren't here when we looked for them, guess that's over', right?"

"That- is a refreshingly simple idea, actually." Compass blinks. "We go in, fake his death for whatever bugs they have in here, attract their attention as much as possible to keep them off his scent, and trust in our magic- and possibly invisibility- to get us home free so we can figure out why the mafia is so interested in stopping us from fixing their ghost problem. I say we go for it."

[Thanqol]

Clocking an unsuspecting sleeper who trusts you with a wrench, while you have multiple people available for distractions, is very easy. Make a strength+weaponry roll with a +2 modifier and he doesn't apply any defense - but it's still a roll because there's the outside chance that it can go terribly wrong.

After that you're going to be forging a narrative. Who do you want the mob to think killed this person? Why? How? Do you want to dress it up like he got torn apart by a werewolf or perforated by a SMG or what? There are no security cameras or witnesses; this whole warehouse is your canvas. What's the story?

[PhoeKun]

[strength+weaponry+2 = 7d10: 9,8,2,7,8,4,9 - 4 successes]

Wham! Thud. "Watch out!" Lily calls just slightly too late to be of any use to the poor clerk. She shrugs her most sympathetic shrug, "Sorry, you'll thank me later. Probably. Maybe. There's a non-zero chance!"

When she was learning to control her magic in the first place, somebody told her that her choice of tools was patently absurd. 'A weapon ought to be a weapon', were the words used if you want details. 'Don't underestimate a master of level 4 wrench katas', came her response. As true today as it was back then!

But I guess we're not here to talk about old stories, huh? Ok, let's craft a new one: we've got our protagonist, freshly conked out on the floor. We've got a big ol' warehouse, just full of cool and ever-so-slightly-dangerous equipment and materials. We've got an audience coming with tickets to the show, and all their mafia presuppositions carried in their made man pockets. Which is kinda funny when you think about it because for a country (so the legends say) founded by criminals it really never seemed the place to house an organized crime family. But you can't argue with history! Unless you're Acanthus, and then... um, right. Anyway. They're coming and for some inexplicable reason they're coming because they know that somebody knows they own a theme park. They're not going to buy an accident, but there is a rad forklift just over yonder and it would be a shame and a half to waste it.

So let's talk crime why not? Run this poor sod over, back it up, run him over some more, stick him with those forks and knock him into the shelving, blood everywhere. Just a big mess all over the place. Put a couple of footprints in that blood, stain up the concrete with marks from a man's dress shoes, size... I don't know, how big do you want the dude to be? Anything from Chris Hemsworth to Peter Dinklage is fine, because the dude had a gun, see? And he shot our poor clerk to keep him quiet, and he wrecked this place with that forklift to make this look like an accident. See, that's the sort of theatricality you just don't get in a death scene anymore, nobody makes good crime dramas. It's almost always people trying to get away with things, never people trying to send a message to other Toughs. That's the real essence of the work right now, you know. 'I know you came, I know you know. There's somebody in this town you'd better not f... erm... mess with.'

...Also if we make a big enough mess they're more likely to write off the big hole in the side of the building that "somebody" is thinking about tearing open to make an escape route.

[Thanqol]

So let's talk crime why not? Run this poor sod over, back it up, run him over some more, stick him with those forks and knock him into the shelving, blood everywhere. Just a big mess all over the place. Put a couple of footprints in that blood, stain up the concrete with marks from a man's dress shoes, size... I don't know, how big do you want the dude to be? Anything from Chris Hemsworth to Peter Dinklage is fine, because the dude had a gun, see? And he shot our poor clerk to keep him quiet, and he wrecked this place with that forklift to make this look like an accident. See, that's the sort of theatricality you just don't get in a death scene anymore, nobody makes good crime dramas. It's almost always people trying to get away with things, never people trying to send a message to other Toughs. That's the real essence of the work right now, you know. 'I know you came, I know you know. There's somebody in this town you'd better not f... erm... mess with.'

...Also if we make a big enough mess they're more likely to write off the big hole in the side of the building that "somebody" is thinking about tearing open to make an escape route.

Kicking the hornets nest is a tried and true espionage technique. If you can observe a panicking organisation you can get an excellent idea of its extent, its interests and its capabilities. You're framing this specifically as a theatrical mob hit, it's a good choice.

Plus you get to drive a rad forklift around and smash it into things.

You are up against some sort of supernatural opposition here, however, so I will ask for a Death 2 Veiling spell to make sure your illusionary death holds.

The next question is where you're standing when the cars pull up outside.

[PhoeKun]

[Adding High Speech to that spell, if it please the court: 5d10 - 1, 10, 10, 5, 2. Ten Agains: 9, 10. Ten Again Agains: 8. (4) 5 successes, regaining willpower and mana for the Exceptional Success]

Lily sings, dances, and makes a glorious beautiful mess out of the warehouse. She's an artist in her element, painting and telling a story without words, and it's her favorite thing in the world. And she's prepared to do a lot of things that will either add her and her friends to that work, or remove them from it. Liquefy an approximately door-shaped part of that wall over there and walk out in a direction nobody thought to guard. Pull the shadows in the room together and stretch them into shapes that will hide the cabal from unthinking eyes. Stand behind a really, really uninteresting box and just kind of chill.

But both of her best friends are what she describes as "Action People!" who as often as not have "Action Plans!", and she's more than content to follow along with those and equip and augment them as she's asked.

[Anarion]

Keynes, in this case, is perfectly content to just walk out of the place as soon as Lily is done. They'll find a cab immediately if they want one, and it seems incredibly unlikely that the cars driving up would remark on a random Sydney taxi cab driving on the same street.

[Thanqol]

The scene is laid out perfectly. Not even Sherlock Holmes could crack this case.


Keynes, in this case, is perfectly content to just walk out of the place as soon as Lily is done. They'll find a cab immediately if they want one, and it seems incredibly unlikely that the cars driving up would remark on a random Sydney taxi cab driving on the same street.

You'd think so, but you and Lily both get premonitions of doom when it comes to simply trying to drive away with no further concealment taken. Lily's spell has perfectly concealed the sleeper's life but you as yet haven't done anything to stop yourselves from being hunted down, and your opposition does seem to have some sort of supernatural capability.

[Anarion]

The scene is laid out perfectly. Not even Sherlock Holmes could crack this case.



You'd think so, but you and Lily both get premonitions of doom when it comes to simply trying to drive away with no further concealment taken. Lily's spell has perfectly concealed the sleeper's life but you as yet haven't done anything to stop yourselves from being hunted down, and your opposition does seem to have some sort of supernatural capability.

Hmm, how are we being followed here? Can Keynes see it if somebody is following our past or future selves?

[Thanqol]

Hmm, how are we being followed here? Can Keynes see it if somebody is following our past or future selves?

This is continuation of information you've already asked for, 'the feeling hasn't gone away', if you want new information cast a spell.

[Anarion]

This is continuation of information you've already asked for, 'the feeling hasn't gone away', if you want new information cast a spell.

Alright, we'll go in for empiricism then. Keynes paces outside the crack in the wall, looks at his watch, adjusts his coat, his hat, mutters in high speech, back to the watch again, and as he's doing so, he's casting a time veiling spell on the group (fake death sleeper included). This will hide them from any sort of temporal senses.
[roll0] [10 again=5][I've got a couple free reach, so that was instant cast of course, and we'll extend the duration as well.]

Keynes is first and foremost trying to get the hairs on the back of his neck to stand down, and if this doesn't help, he'll get the party moving and start trying more techniques.

[Thanqol]

Alright, we'll go in for empiricism then. Keynes paces outside the crack in the wall, looks at his watch, adjusts his coat, his hat, mutters in high speech, back to the watch again, and as he's doing so, he's casting a time veiling spell on the group (fake death sleeper included). This will hide them from any sort of temporal senses.
[roll0] [10 again=5]

Keynes is first and foremost trying to get the hairs on the back of his neck to stand down, and if this doesn't help, he'll get the party moving and start trying more techniques.


Talk me through what reach factors you're using. I'm seeing a Time 2 spell with +1 reach instant cast +1 reach advanced scale, primary factor of duration, two successes - this shields you for a couple of seconds? If you cast that at a busy crossroads then it could be really effective but otherwise it might just produce a weird gap before they spot you again a few meters down the road.

(Incidentally, anything Time can get pretty weird quick, so how I'm interpreting this is that if anyone tries to look back in time at the period of time where you are veiled you are invisible. The same thing actually happens in reverse, i.e. if anyone in the past is looking forwards to what you're doing while veiled they can't see you.

This means that if anyone in the past looked forwards, saw your actions, made decisions based on that information and then when we get to the moment and you put up a Time Veiling spell reality can dramatically change. I'd have to figure out what that person would have done if they weren't able to correctly predict your future actions and, if necessary, retcon vast amounts of reality away. Remember: In Mage, Cause and Effect are lies and there is no such thing as a temporal paradox. As a wise man once said, your first mission is to kill your past self to free your mind from the Lie. People without Time 1 will be completely oblivious to any changes that occur.

Another note is that if you set the Duration factor to an hour, say, you can offset that hour in any direction from now . Retroactively veiling (or theoretically, future veiling) your actions needs the Temporal Sympathy attainment. Then any amount of time past or future any actions in the veiled interval remain veiled.

Generally you won't want to walk around veiled because most Time magic is you looking forwards or backwards at your past self and you'd have to fight your own veil to re-visit those moments. You can also choose to provoke a retroactive clash of wills by veiling yourself while acting on your own prophecies. Your past and future selves are powerful Time mages and may have interests that diverge from yours, the jerks.)


[I've got a couple free reach, so that was instant cast of course, and we'll extend the duration as well.]

The effect is [I]weird; you can feel the odds of the fight lurch a bit in your favour (yours personally) but the odds are still great that there's going to be a fight and that you're all going to die.

[Anarion]

Keynes blinks, considers. He'd thought that a time veiling would have at least made for a clean getaway in a cab, especially with the strange time effects of that one yellow eyed man. He turns to Compass. "Compass, I believe we have need of your talents. The Prime arcanum does tend to trump all others, perhaps you could add your veiling to those that Lily and I have cast, and then we can all hop in a cab and be on our way."

[Raz_Fox]

"Understood," Compass says, and it is so. Her third eye throbs as she walks forward with quiet dignity, ordering all the world to ignore her and hers: she is holy, set apart. Against the authority of heaven, not even magic itself may stand.

She is going to allow someone else to get the cab.

[Casting Supernal Veil on the trio. Going to use Concentration for +2 dice, making a dice pool of 6. Two Reach: instant casting and Advanced Scale.
[roll0]]

[Thanqol]

Boom, you're cloaked, you're safe, you're out of there before the mob comes. Easy, clean, no objections.

You're now loose in the city with a chance to catch up, calm down and figure out what your next move is. You've got the initiative. It's getting towards 5pm though and you might want to think about breaking for the day and taking some time for your personal projects. No routine magic scans predict any sort of catastrophic doom in the next 24 hours - the mothman will take more than one night to chew through the bridge again that severely and the ghost is still figuring out what happened to its electrical cables.

This is also the point where the first session of the game would end; everyone take 1XP. No Arcane XP because no one's done any crazy obsessive magical stuff.

Ball's in your court.

[Anarion]

Keynes takes off his hat as they get out of the cab and runs a hand along a strand of his thick black hair. They've got a few problems.

Natural disaster at the theme park, first off. He'd probably put that one at lowest priority, himself, but Lily was interested and he liked seeing her excited, so it got a bump up from there. Lily excited was Lily not doing something ridiculously destructive, or at least channeling her destruction towards good.

Second problem, the bridge. That was an issue because of the major effect on the city and because, he suspected, it was not simply a cryptid acting alone, but rather something more sinister directing the actions there. The worst part of the bridge was not even knowing if the destruction was right or wrong. He'd need to scry into that if he could, but he had suspicious that the unknowns of such a massive change were going to make it one of those hard to see-past temporal nexus moments. He could try scrying on himself in a few days perhaps, but his future self was such a pompous ass, always looking so self-assured, and he never gave useful hints. Maybe Compass, she had seemed most interested.

Third problem, they had just faked a man's death and now they'd need to do something with him. That one was going to get shoved in a closet for a moment, as long as Lily could keep him out. Maybe a small bedroom, rather than a closet, no reason to be unkind to the young man.

Fourth problem, and this was the kicker. Something was...off. Compass had said mind magic, and Keynes had a major headache every time he tried to think about their head of the Consilium, Thule, he got a massive headache. This was not good at all. This was the most immediate problem. If you can't trust your perceptions, you can trust your take on the other problems affecting the city's infrastructure. For all he knew, the mob hadn't even existed an hour ago.

"Lily, Compass, why don't we make some dinner, make ourselves comfortable? I'm going to be calling in some assistance this evening." Alright, hat on the hat stand, coat hanging below it, and there he is in just his black shirt and khakis, his cell phone already in hand. The after hours secretary at the office answers primly.
"Ajax and sons financial management services, how can I help you?" Ajax and sons was always open, the nature of the international stock trade, where you had to work with your own countrymen and also play the game on the hours of New York City and the London international exchange. Somebody was always trading somewhere. This also made it highly convenient as an office for Guardian operations.
"I'm calling for Mr. Ajax, please tell him that it's John."
"Of course, sir, he'll be right with you."

Keynes moves the phone just a bit away from his ear as the voice of an energetic, wiry man on his eighth cup of coffee and his third 5k run of the day comes blasting through the phone. "John, my god man, what has you calling at this hour? Is everything okay?"
"Ajax, always a pleasure. I do apologize for interrupting you tonight, but I need a house call immediately, if you could swing by my address at once, please. Something is loose, and it needs immediate attention." Ajax, when he wasn't doing his day job as an investor with unending enthusiasm, passion for climbing the social ladder, and unwillingness to wear a piece of clothing with a label that cost less than $500, was also the best mind mage that Keynes knew in the Guardian organization in Australia. And he was needed now. They were going to address this problem that Compass had brought up straight away.

[PhoeKun]

In the car ride home, Lily sniffles. This is the fifteenth time she's watched a close, personal friend reach out for the end of their timeline, and the fifteenth time she's pulled them back from it. Not once has she ever directly said anything about any of them; those emotions have to go somewhere. Deep breath in, hold. Exhale; it's gone. She's as bright and eager as ever anybody's ever seen her, although man alive she could really use a drink right now.

... Home. It's about 5 pm, which yes, mother, is late enough for sangria. It's the opposite of the caffeine, really. A coffee-powered Lily is necessary to tackle life outside the door, but it's just as necessary to remove that power source when inside. A coffee-powered Lily is manic. She makes mistakes. She bounces off of everything. She grasps at every thread and pulls just to see how they'll unravel. She gets herself tangled up in all of them, and like a kitten trapped in a ball of yarn, sometimes she needs help getting unstuck again. Lily is Awakened, which it turns out is powerfully different than being awake. Calmness. Sweet, drunken calmness is what powers her highest points of inspiration, and it keeps her moving slow enough to sit still long enough to climb her own ladder. Plus there's a lot of days where junk gets a little too real and those are the times where getting blackout plastered is the only way to wake up the next morning with your sanity intact. It is known, khaleesi.

So, home. Home. Lily's space could generously be described as a hovel. There's a desk over in the corner somewhere, or at least there must be because that computer must be sitting on something and there's a surprisingly nice looking chair sitting next to that. Not even Lily would describe it as 'Order out of Chaos', things just are where they are, and she relies on her ability to remember where that is when she needs them. Exotic materials lie scattered all over the place: numerous gemstones, samples of all sorts of metals and alloys, a cobweb in a glass jar, for some reason an artillery shell from an M1 Abrams tank. There's a collage of crystals hanging from the ceiling, each one glittering with a different kind of light as they filter from a corner lamp poking out of a pile of books. The walls are covered, maybe several times over with pictures of... stuff. Photos of various animals: birds in flight, a tiger shark breaching the water off the coast of who-knows-where, an armadillo curled into a ball atop a blanket, a snow leopard sprawled across a branch, a wolf loping through sun-dappled woods. Hand-drawn schematics: a motor, various suits of armor both modern and ancient, a ballroom gown with massive, trailing sleeves, swords, a bubble drawn in hexagons around a tiny stick figure, a pair of giant mechanical wings and a back-mounted propulsion system. On the wall next to her (surprisingly clean) bed, there's a stack of oil canvases plastered with what can only be described as color. There's an easel next to that with one she's still working on; something that can only properly be seen by tetrachromats. Neat little squares of color lined up precisely against one another according to hues that most people alive can't follow or know exist. Also, her computer is still on. Oops. That'd be another lecture about wasting electricity she'd really rather not sit through, but at least it's convenient.

There's a limited amount of time to work on nights where Key is so uppity, and frankly she's never seen him be this uppity about anything. Why it should matter who calls himself the top of the dork bureaucracy, she can't fathom. Except for the part where he hurt Compass. She plucks a strawberry out of her glass, chews on it thoughtfully, and chases it without about a quarter of the nectary liquid. "You get this one evening, Key."

Her monitor is filled just the way she left it with a full-screen Google doc, on the cloud and publicly viewable (but not freely editable, goodness gracious) even though it basically amounts to her diary. Or her field notes. Whatever.

'Log 76773 - Fist of an angry god inside the Sydney bridge. Spirit? Line between ghost and spirit blurring/pop culture influence affecting supernal resonance ++++
Giant ants still stupid and impossible (thinking_emoji)'

She glances over at something and sighs dramatically

'fullerene lattice did NOT hold. Of course not. Running out of ideas. Dead End? Shifting focus - graphene, depleted uranium? Transparent aluminium?? DIAMONDS! Girls' best friend, perfect structure, crazy crazy hard. Symbol of flawlessness, traditional physical properties indicate lower shear modulus along specific, deeply flawed planes. But amazing resonance: Stone of Invincibility, Stone of Truth. Stone of Innocence, too, ward against corruption? Weight, rigidity concern. Really want that damn lattice to stop disintegrating; solves so many issues re: mobility, flexural toughness.

Diamonds are Forever. Not true. Flaws in crystalline structure, breakdowns, pressure heat impact corrosion decay, everything falls back apart into less organized structures eventually. C'est la vie. Product of Lie? Assuredly yes and no. Death is an Arcana, do not deny it. Keep coming back to it: Lie affects Supernal. Must also work in reverse. Has to. Double back, consider Sydney Bridge god. Spirit of a bridge? Mythology throughout known history talks about this sort of thing, eastern cultures especially. Meaning is clear: absurdly deep sympathies across 'mystical' and 'mundane' fronts, People have Power (viva la revolución!) that deeply affects stuff far more permanent than individual consciousness.

The whole concept of Supernal Truth, therefore, is mutable. Changes constantly, adapts and reflects the time and the people. Especially the ones who don't know it? Think Sleepers change the Waking more than vice-versa. The popularity of ideas affects their resonance, ebbing, flowing, changing. It would seem like Truth and Lie aren't really opposed, just sides of same coin. Attack from the other direction? Must be some way to tap into that, control it. Read an article in cab today about scientist who made a seven micron invisibility cloak. Clearly Awakened, but affecting reality on very small scale. Think he should look into ruthenium; light refracting capabilities probably easier to coat than his super substance. Point being: creation of new materials, though fantastic, accepted as science by Sleeper culture. Keep coming back to diamonds, then. Roots dug so deeply into secular sciences and mystical traditions, feels like a perfect bridge material. Bridges are the key. The Lie is not the enemy, it's the Truth being heard wrong. Just need to make the materials permanent. No more falling apart when Mana dries out. Running low on avenues of pursuit, but that's the current hypothesis. Can't get bogged down in magical tradition, there's a whole real world out there begging to be made part of the greater whole. Learning the lessons it teaches is key. Build a working machine using gemcraft, explainable under accepted laws. No more Quiescence.

Personal note, finding it difficult to accept the inevitability of close friends eventual deaths. Isn't that funny?
"The only true death is to have never lived"'

She blinks, closes the file, and stands up to stretch. She lets out a tiny moan as her back makes a satisfying 'pop', and walks back out to the kitchen to make herself another drink, and wait for the night's entertainment. Helping friends first; there should still be enough time left in the night if she skips sleeping to try another couple of combinations in her alloys and find the best and most importantly coolest combination of stuff that she could build a functional exoskeleton out of, the sort of thing that exceeds the positive qualities of and overcomes the limitations of the things that people have tried before. There's a lot of ways she could try to apply this, but Lily can never quite help thinking about robots when it comes to this sort of thing. Robots capture people's imaginations, make them think and feel and dream. Just like she always had growing up, and look how that turned out!

[Raz_Fox]

Let's talk about our sanctum.

Allow me to preface by explaining that I am not a stranger to sharing a space with multiple magicians. My internship with the shadow government of London required me to fit the materials required for willworking into a space five feet by five feet, and that space also contained a desk. When I returned to Sydney, I did my research on the city's leylines and managed to get both the city platonic and the city natural to align here, in a penthouse overlooking the lights of my city. It is, after all, traditional for a wizard to have a tower.

I am not quite sure why it is traditional, but it is tradition, all the same. That is why the King of Sydney, he builds himself a tower in the form of a casino. It is why Oxford is a city that comes alive at dusk: the dreaming spires sing to each other at night, and I cried the first time I heard them, standing on the spire of St. Bartholomew. It is why New York once had the greatest sorcerers on the continent, and now- not a year after- they are still trying to rebuild, now that their towers are broken.

Our sanctum is our tower, is our fortress, is our space for willworking, and every month I take the astronomical bill and consume it between my teeth, metaphorically speaking.

Luna, Saturn and Jupiter, and the greatest of these is Jupiter, supposedly. When the king stands in the heavens, base soil turns to princely tin and joy returns, thawing sorrow and exalting the humble. The convergence of Jupiter and Saturn is caution mixed with authority; the convergence of Jupiter and Luna, a veil drawn over the dark. But I have little taste for command tonight; I pour myself a glass of Faerie Fire '89 and watch the wine spin in the centrifuge that I make of the glass, my wrist turning, changing the consistency of its whirlpool with every twitch, every tilt.

I have met with a king bereft of both Jupiter and the Sun, both solemnity and wisdom, and he cracked open my thoughts and poured himself in, and I do not enjoy the connections my mind draws between this violation and other violations. I am myself. The proper role of a Warlock is to be crucible, to be the alchemical fire that consumes impurities. But I do not believe that my autonomy of thought is an impurity. I cannot allow myself to believe it.

The glass is a meditative mantra, every turn of the dark red its own syllable of a prayer.

For He shall give His angels charge over thee...

I should be working, the thought rises, and I suppress it. Thought is a distraction. The mind, itself, a distraction. Will and motion. Action and consequence. If I drop this glass, it will fall; it will shatter; Lily could press her hands on the shards and shape it back together again, but the glass will remember having been broken. If I act now, rashly, my own Will will betray me, and I will come to pieces.

I hung windchimes outside our window. It was difficult, but worth doing. Windchimes, hanging from the penthouse window of this wizard's tower, blown by the strong breezes of the upper air. But sometimes they fall still, and cease to sing, and there is value in that, too: a moment of negation, a moment of nothingness, before being stirred into action again.

I will answer my emails and set my affairs in the world of dreaming mortals in order, as I do every night, but not yet.
I will work at coaxing spirits, struggling inch by bloody inch to become more than a tourist in their realm, to listen to the ten thousand voices of the city. My city. But not yet.
I will consider, deep in my self, what I am to do about the bridge, and what I am to do to keep Lily from thinking I am cold. I am not myself, as of late, and Jupiter has been eclipsed by Saturn. But not yet, and yet always.

No.

First, I will express my Will, and this far from Thule, I will examine the hooks that he has left inside me. I will imbue my tools with light and my voice with fire, and when I close my eyes, I will see the city as it is when it dreams about itself, and the subtle magics of the Sleepers and the incandescent magic of the Awakened.

So that's my plan for the evening, in a nutshell.

[Thanqol]

The evening unfolds.

Compass in her tower receives a knock on the door. A valet shows in Mr. Ajax in. Mr. Ajax is not named for the Greek hero, or the famous missionary - he's named for the cleaning product. "Stronger than dirt!" He has the carefully crafted appearance of a corporate vendor - you know the type - but you get an uncomfortable feeling of dread whenever you look at what's surely just a briefcase full of samples.

"I have not asked your friends to attend," said Mr. Ajax as he looks around your apartment. He takes off his hat and coat and hangs it up on a hook. He immediately locates and gravitates towards your sink and starts pulling out cleaning products. He holds up a bottle of bleach. "You know what's strange? Anywhere I go, even in a condo as luxurious as this one, there I am!" He laughs at his own dad joke. "Lie down on the floor. Are you nervous?" His patter is off-beat and unsettling. He shifts between ruthless professional and kindly dad moment to moment. That, though, is the price you pay for getting a quality Mind Mage.

~

Lily in her workshop is hard at work with diamonds and exoskeletons. Robots are the end goal. Mind from matter. Life from matter.

That is ambition. That is world changing ambition, from someone with the background to make it reality. The one thing consistent about robot stories is that robots profoundly transform the world and society they live in. People are inspired by robots but they also fear them for the status quo will not survive their coming.

Something moves in the Supernal, like a great whale through oil.

It isn't clear if those great clusters of symbols that live within the Invisible Realms are 'sentient', especially for the ones that do not originate from the realm of Pandemonium. It cannot be clearly said if they have will, agenda or intentions. Referring to them as animalistic would mistakenly assert them to be manifestations of the Primal Wild, suggesting that they were aggressive mathematical patterns or angels manifest would be to cede the intellectual landscape to the Aether.

And yet they act and they interact, so the least incorrect term Awakened Man has for them is 'Supernal Entities'. Creature, denizen, being; words that by their nature imply a certain cautious ignorance. That is wise.

The exoskeleton shifts. Lights come on behind its diamond eyes. Under its own power it stands.

"Beep boop, I am a robot," it says. "What kind of robot am I?"

~

Keynes, Mr. Ajax didn't ask you to attend the astral dive. As the ranking member of the Guardians you can't make a phone call to any of them without them asking you to sort out something for them. A spy agency is a delicate latticework that the chaos of human relationships always threatens to tear apart.

Zeus is a handler and a wrangler, and he's also a snitch and a control freak. These things make him effective at his job but they make him cruel and make him ask you to be cruel alongside him. Tonight he has a complaint and he has used your connection with Mr. Ajax to track you down. "Brunhild is becoming a problem," he says. Brunhild operates a branch of the Labyrinth, an insane and failing government department. "She has formed a romantic attachment to an Adamantine Arrow mage and, worse, is allowing her philosophical commitment to the Veil be eroded as a result. At the moment she is incorporating Arrow strategies into her work and my divinations indicate if this course continues uncorrected she may eventually leave the Guardians and take all her secrets with her. We need to deal with this."

[Anarion]

Keynes, Mr. Ajax didn't ask you to attend the astral dive. As the ranking member of the Guardians you can't make a phone call to any of them without them asking you to sort out something for them. A spy agency is a delicate latticework that the chaos of human relationships always threatens to tear apart.


Pity, Keynes had a professional curiosity about the astral, and Compass' promised to be especially fascinating, he had thought. Still, probably for the best that the didn't invade his friend's most private and personal space without dire necessity.



Zeus is a handler and a wrangler, and he's also a snitch and a control freak. These things make him effective at his job but they make him cruel and make him ask you to be cruel alongside him. Tonight he has a complaint and he has used your connection with Mr. Ajax to track you down. "Brunhild is becoming a problem," he says. Brunhild operates a branch of the Labyrinth, an insane and failing government department. "She has formed a romantic attachment to an Adamantine Arrow mage and, worse, is allowing her philosophical commitment to the Veil be eroded as a result. At the moment she is incorporating Arrow strategies into her work and my divinations indicate if this course continues uncorrected she may eventually leave the Guardians and take all her secrets with her. We need to deal with this."

"Please, Mr. Zeus, there is no need to mince words." Keynes sighs, pull his hair back, finishes the glass of Glenmorangie that he had been nursing in a single gulp and collects his things. Coat, hat, gun. Zeus would not be speaking in this manner if he thought that a simple lecture would do the trick. "If drastic action is necessary, I can take care of the matter immediately."

Still though, it never hurt to double check things. Never make assumptions. "Before I go, Mr. Zeus you have, I imagine, already spoken with Brunhild to no effect? Would you kindly you recount to me the details of that conversation? And when you have finished, I'll need as much information as you have about Brunhild's current whereabouts and activities."

[Raz_Fox]

Compass in her tower receives a knock on the door. A valet shows in Mr. Ajax in. Mr. Ajax is not named for the Greek hero, or the famous missionary - he's named for the cleaning product. "Stronger than dirt!" He has the carefully crafted appearance of a corporate vendor - you know the type - but you get an uncomfortable feeling of dread whenever you look at what's surely just a briefcase full of samples.

"I have not asked your friends to attend," said Mr. Ajax as he looks around your apartment. He takes off his hat and coat and hangs it up on a hook. He immediately locates and gravitates towards your sink and starts pulling out cleaning products. He holds up a bottle of bleach. "You know what's strange? Anywhere I go, even in a condo as luxurious as this one, there I am!" He laughs at his own dad joke. "Lie down on the floor. Are you nervous?" His patter is off-beat and unsettling. He shifts between ruthless professional and kindly dad moment to moment. That, though, is the price you pay for getting a quality Mind Mage.

I slip off my shoes before situating myself on the floor. Truth be told, there is an edge of nervousness that I'd have to be a fool not to feel. Mr. Ajax is, after all, one of our secret policemen, and one who is talented with the magic of the mind. If he was to subvert me, with that certain ruthless professional intent rather than Thule's careless impulses, how would I know?

You have to choose who you will trust in the magical community. Otherwise, you'd end up paranoid.

"I am somewhat," I say, resting my head on my crossed palms. "Your area of expertise is one that has a certain knack for causing existential crises. But I am ready to cooperate and placing my trust in your able hands. I have no doubt that you will deserve it by the evening's end." I say that for both of us. A reminder that if I don't believe in other people, how will they rise to meet my expectations?

I flash him, for a moment, something of a smile. Then it's back to business. Let's begin.

[Thanqol]

"Please, Mr. Zeus, there is no need to mince words." Keynes sighs, pull his hair back, finishes the glass of Glenmorangie that he had been nursing in a single gulp and collects his things. Coat, hat, gun. Zeus would not be speaking in this manner if he thought that a simple lecture would do the trick. "If drastic action is necessary, I can take care of the matter immediately."

Still though, it never hurt to double check things. Never make assumptions. "Before I go, Mr. Zeus you have, I imagine, already spoken with Brunhild to no effect? Would you kindly you recount to me the details of that conversation? And when you have finished, I'll need as much information as you have about Brunhild's current whereabouts and activities."

He offers you a clump of hair in a plastic bag. "Divine for yourself," said Zeus.

Zeus is very cagey about his personal life and is very hard to track down, but he always seems to somehow have everybody's hair.


I slip off my shoes before situating myself on the floor. Truth be told, there is an edge of nervousness that I'd have to be a fool not to feel. Mr. Ajax is, after all, one of our secret policemen, and one who is talented with the magic of the mind. If he was to subvert me, with that certain ruthless professional intent rather than Thule's careless impulses, how would I know?

You have to choose who you will trust in the magical community. Otherwise, you'd end up paranoid.

"I am somewhat," I say, resting my head on my crossed palms. "Your area of expertise is one that has a certain knack for causing existential crises. But I am ready to cooperate and placing my trust in your able hands. I have no doubt that you will deserve it by the evening's end." I say that for both of us. A reminder that if I don't believe in other people, how will they rise to meet my expectations?

I flash him, for a moment, something of a smile. Then it's back to business. Let's begin.

"Really? You're going into your own soul to confront your darker self and you're wearing a power suit?" said Mr. Ajax skeptically. "Well, at least you took your shoes off."

He smiles at you, pulls out a silenced pistol and blows off your kneecap. Three seconds of the worst pain you've ever felt later, the pain abruptly vanishes and you feel totally fine and normal. Your kneecap is still a bloody mess though. It's grotesquely fascinating.

"Hey, sorry about that," he said, "but a Master Mind Mage has been around inside your head and he could have done anything to it. So this way, if you do try to bite my throat out, all I have to do is turn off the spell that's keeping the pain out of your - oh wait, I could have cast the pain relief spell and then shot you, why did that never occur to me before now?" He shakes his head. "Anyway, there's a lot I can do to your brain but I want to do as little as possible until I know for absolute certain what I need to do. I mean, there could be an entirely artificial person living in there. Or maybe he extinguished your entire mind and personality and made a new one from scratch. Sky's the limit! So I want to just observe you and your Daemon go at it, that should show me where the break points are."

[Anarion]

He offers you a clump of hair in a plastic bag. "Divine for yourself," said Zeus.

Zeus is very cagey about his personal life and is very hard to track down, but he always seems to somehow have everybody's hair.


Keynes shrugs, takes the hair. "Anything else, Mr. Zeus, dossier perhaps, or would you prefer to be on your way and leave me to discern the details?"

Keynes could work with this either way, but Zeus should know that he had no reason to be cagey about this. The faster Keynes was briefed, the faster he'd get the request done.



"Really? You're going into your own soul to confront your darker self and you're wearing a power suit?" said Mr. Ajax skeptically. "Well, at least you took your shoes off."

He smiles at you, pulls out a silenced pistol and blows off your kneecap. Three seconds of the worst pain you've ever felt later, the pain abruptly vanishes and you feel totally fine and normal. Your kneecap is still a bloody mess though. It's grotesquely fascinating.

"Hey, sorry about that," he said, "but a Master Mind Mage has been around inside your head and he could have done anything to it. So this way, if you do try to bite my throat out, all I have to do is turn off the spell that's keeping the pain out of your - oh wait, I could have cast the pain relief spell and then shot you, why did that never occur to me before now?" He shakes his head. "Anyway, there's a lot I can do to your brain but I want to do as little as possible until I know for absolute certain what I need to do. I mean, there could be an entirely artificial person living in there. Or maybe he extinguished your entire mind and personality and made a new one from scratch. Sky's the limit! So I want to just observe you and your Daemon go at it, that should show me where the break points are."

Let it never be said that the Guardians are inefficient at their specialty.

[PhoeKun]

The exoskeleton shifts. Lights come on behind its diamond eyes. Under its own power it stands.

"Beep boop, I am a robot," it says. "What kind of robot am I?"

Lily could never have been expecting this. She could never have been prepared for this moment, though she'd dreamed of it for most of her life. It's the kind of thing you greet with the cackling laughter of a Saturday morning cartoon villain, or a speech or a song about the blinding capabilities of a future written in steel (or diamond composite alloy, but what the heck ever, man). What she does instead is stare into those glowing diamond eyes. She tilts her head a bit from side to side, rests her hand on her chin so that her fingers cover up her mouth and brush against her nose a little. She purses her lips, and she looks.

She hadn't made it in her image, not exactly, but the measurements were close enough that you'd forgive someone for thinking she had. Of course, right now she was only staring at an exoskeleton, so it was more like looking at a Terminator than a mirror, but "endoing" that framework was a g*sh d*rned walk in the park compared to whatever miracle she'd just pulled off. The body was a diamond/mercury admixture, which let the faceting on the gemstone move and flow like super cohesive liquid and removed most of the sheer planes diamonds traditionally broke on when stressed. A splash of aluminum kept it relatively lightweight and added rigidity back near the joints where it needed to do more than sink and ripple under impact pressure; she'd felt so inspired when she chose the metal, so much more sympathetic with crystal than a lot of other materials, since it's relatively easily coaxed into a crystalline structure, itself. The alloy accepted it with barely a hitch. Somebody somewhere would criticize her for not doing the whole thing in carbon nanotubes, but they could jump in a lake because the notes clearly indicate she'd already tried twenty plus variations of that and it never took, so nyeh.

She walks around her creation in slow circles, not moving her hand off of her lips, or really any part of her upper body apart from her eyes, trying to picture it in its completed form. It's a versatile frame; built to be modular. With hands that dexterous, there wouldn't even be a need for integrated weapons systems (y'know... just in case), just whip up a lightsaber and let it have fun. It's body casing ought to be something impressively military seeming to hide the vaguely nuclear core already powering the thing. Depleted uranium would do the trick, with carbon meshes at the joints to maintain freedom of movement. It could afford the extra weight, and the idea alone would drop jaws (the price, though...). The visual design would be very important. She'd have to avoid the temptation to give it facial features, other than the eyes. A solid plate, and speaker systems to let it communicate. No sexual characteristics, although it's sleek enough some idiot is going to call it a girl anyway. Simple, unadorned metal so that it stays out of the Uncanny Valley. From there, upgrades! Ceramics components and super-alloy platings that would resist corrosion and pressure several atmospheres over, even through most known sources of acid. Thermal gear that would keep the thing from melting in almost any energy environment. A flight pack, magnetic boots (heh), maybe an accelerator if she could pick Keynes' brain long enough to figure out how Time affected these sorts of things. It didn't really occur to her that what she was making basically amounted to a weapon. Militarization is just a byproduct of practicality, no, this was a miracle. Miracles do so much more than kill. In fact, they never should kill, but the world was full of things that were forever trying to stamp out miracles, so the good ones, they had to be tough enough to take it. Tough enough to take on jobs people never thought possible. And from there? Inspiration. And change. So then, after all...

The diamond eyes are following her, ultra patient and waiting for an answer. Processing. Understanding, aware. Finally, she nods to herself and quietly murmurs, "Ok. Ok." in tiny little meticulously enunciated bursts.

Finally, she moves. She flicks her hand over toward her computer, and music (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HP2NePWJ2pQ[/url) starts playing at max volume. It fills more than the room, it swells and washes over the entire sanctum with its awesome power.

Men sleep tonight with hands of bone
And we'll awake with hands of steel
With these hands we will destroy
And with these hands we will rebuild
And we will stand above the city
Rising high above the streets
From tops of buildings we will look
At all that lies beneath our feet
And we will raise our hands above us
Cold steel shining in the sun
And with these hands that will not bleed
My father's battle will be won

"Prototype. Partner. Assistant, Explorer, builder of the dangerous and the impossible. Human analog. Shield. Sword. Thinker. Face of the next generation. In 80 years, a legacy. The hero who hunts down the third generation when some unthinking hack blindly copies your design.

Model Zero. Does that answer your question?"

She doesn't smile so much as grin, and doesn't grin so much as her face is consumed by the light of a thing called Joy.

[Thanqol]

Keynes shrugs, takes the hair. "Anything else, Mr. Zeus, dossier perhaps, or would you prefer to be on your way and leave me to discern the details?"

Keynes could work with this either way, but Zeus should know that he had no reason to be cagey about this. The faster Keynes was briefed, the faster he'd get the request done.

"My subjective perceptions are fallible," said Zeus. "As are everyone else's. If you desire knowledge claim it from the Supernal, it is the only way to be sure.


The diamond eyes are following her, ultra patient and waiting for an answer. Processing. Understanding, aware. Finally, she nods to herself and quietly murmurs, "Ok. Ok." in tiny little meticulously enunciated bursts.

Finally, she moves. She flicks her hand over toward her computer, and music (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HP2NePWJ2pQ[/url) starts playing at max volume. It fills more than the room, it swells and washes over the entire sanctum with its awesome power.

Men sleep tonight with hands of bone
And we'll awake with hands of steel
With these hands we will destroy
And with these hands we will rebuild
And we will stand above the city
Rising high above the streets
From tops of buildings we will look
At all that lies beneath our feet
And we will raise our hands above us
Cold steel shining in the sun
And with these hands that will not bleed
My father's battle will be won

"Prototype. Partner. Assistant, Explorer, builder of the dangerous and the impossible. Human analog. Shield. Sword. Thinker. Face of the next generation. In 80 years, a legacy. The hero who hunts down the third generation when some unthinking hack blindly copies your design.

Model Zero. Does that answer your question?"

She doesn't smile so much as grin, and doesn't grin so much as her face is consumed by the light of a thing called Joy.

The Supernal entity watching this scene shifts and changes. With every word you speak it reorganizes its structures, casting off vast swathes of symbols and solidifying others into place. Swift and slashing, paint becoming a painting. It is learning and as it learns it changes the Realms Invisible, and by its very nature that is what becomes True in the world below.

It drinks in the music like blood on desert sands. The resonance becomes perfect, 1:1, the ideal lever. It reaches out for associations, the Megaman series, art and media. You have the rare privilege of seeing a Supernal Entity name itself, and its name is The Father Of Death.

It is Robots. That collection of symbols is the concept of machine intelligence in this world. The world will bear the consequences.

"I am Model Zero," said the machine, voice already different, stance changing, Pattern taking shape. "Who are you to me?"

[Anarion]

"My subjective perceptions are fallible," said Zeus. "As are everyone else's. If you desire knowledge claim it from the Supernal, it is the only way to be sure.


"Zeus, my good man, you don't have half enough appreciation for the advantage to a Mage of a good set of note paper and a trusty pen, I assure you of that."

Let's talk Acanthus for a moment. Keynes is a firm believer in the usefulness of magic, with the caveat that you still have to give it a grain of salt on the off chance that you're dealing with somebody who's a specialist in wards and abjurations. He is, however, an equally firm believer in the efficacy of the more traditional methods of information acquisition, or, to use the more colloquial term, spying. Fate and Time worked better when you had information to direct them. Even wrong information at times, especially if one were canny about how they went about their divination. Time, especially, worked best off of a strong launching point from which one could travel upstream and downstream. Because yes, no matter what you did, a bit of tugging at the pattern of reality could make you better at it, but being a tad better at something utterly wrong is typically unhelpful at best. And since the Heirogmagus didn't seem to be popping up on the evening talk shows to inform them all that the world was no longer fallible and all problems were solved, Keynes thought it prudent to make the best of the techniques of the current reality as well. That had certainly prompted his study of the occult, which had served him to quite excellent effect.

Now, what were we dealing with? Ah yes, of course, he was going to check Zeus' work either way (the adage was "trust, then verify" not "trust blindly until somebody stabs you in the back") but now thanks to the man's laziness, Keynes was likely to spend the better part of the evening in various scrying and divination efforts rather than having an opportunity for a more focused check, or simply a review of her activities. Really, Zeus clearly did not appreciate the value of even providing an address, for goodness sake! Still, Keynes was at least a speedy hand at the divination, and he had the opportunity to go about these things properly.

He bid Zeus a brief farewell and encouraged the man to write some notes next time for Christ sake, and then went back into his study. Compass was busy in the other room, and Lily in her lab, so he imagined he would have some quiet moments. He poured another shot of his scotch, sniffed it, took a small sip and let it hang on his tongue for an instant so that the heat of it warmed his whole mouth and burned its way to the back of his throat. Then he started fetching some tools. Matches and cigarettes, a set of small animal bones (some kind of vole if he remembered correctly), a pair of colorful dice (it worked better sometimes if you could tell them apart), some kindling wood, and a large plate along with an ashtray. He struck a match, lit the cigarette and puffed on it. Long, slow puffs, filling the room with smoke and haze. Then he put the cigarette to the kindling and as it caught and flamed, he added a touch of Brunhild's hair to the blaze. Then he placed the bones in the fire one by one, and as they roasted and blackened, he took them out, placing them evenly on the plate until they were done. And finally, he cast the roasted bones upon his table, calling in high speech for the veil to part and to show him Brunhild. Her past, her future. Or at least her bloody whereabouts, he added mentally.

[So, this represents a few spells, let me know if there's a need to roll for any of them. First off is a very straightforward divination. Where will Brunhild be tonight? What will she be doing? Who will be with her? The latter, I imagine is more limited since I don't have the level of Space necessary to remote cast on any location, but since I have good sympathy here, I'd like to see as much of Brunhild's past as I can. In particular her conversation (if any) with Zeus, her meeting with her lover, any moments in which she was focused entirely on managing the Labyrinth since then. While I'm at it, if the hair is enough to pick up sympathetic connections and destinies of our lovely Brunhild, I'd like to know them. If not, well, we'll just have to find her, won't we.]

[Raz_Fox]

"Really? You're going into your own soul to confront your darker self and you're wearing a power suit?" said Mr. Ajax skeptically. "Well, at least you took your shoes off."

"What would you have me wear?" I ask, bracing myself for the astral journey. At least the magician is trying to put me at ease, somewhat. "The suit, actually-"


He smiles at you, pulls out a silenced pistol and blows off your kneecap. Three seconds of the worst pain you've ever felt later, the pain abruptly vanishes and you feel totally fine and normal. Your kneecap is still a bloody mess though. It's grotesquely fascinating.

[STATIC]


"Hey, sorry about that," he said, "but a Master Mind Mage has been around inside your head and he could have done anything to it. So this way, if you do try to bite my throat out, all I have to do is turn off the spell that's keeping the pain out of your - oh wait, I could have cast the pain relief spell and then shot you, why did that never occur to me before now?" He shakes his head. "Anyway, there's a lot I can do to your brain but I want to do as little as possible until I know for absolute certain what I need to do. I mean, there could be an entirely artificial person living in there. Or maybe he extinguished your entire mind and personality and made a new one from scratch. Sky's the limit! So I want to just observe you and your Daemon go at it, that should show me where the break points are."

"Stellar," I pant, through gritted teeth. How does he intend to fix this? Does he intend to fix this? I am not going to go into work in a f*cking wheelchair tomorrow. Does he think I have a wizard with practices of healing on speed dial? Was this part of the fine print that Keynes agreed to behind my back? Did this even happen at all? For all I know-

Focus, Elly. Focus. I take a breath, and I can, distantly, feel bits of bone and cartilage moving in my leg. Not painfully. That's the funny thing, isn't it? My mind and my body have come unmoored, and it's as if nothing done to one has anything at all to do with the other. That is untrue. It must be untrue. Mind, body, both are capable of being manipulated by magic, but both are still part of one whole.

Let's begin.

[PhoeKun]

"I am Model Zero," said the machine, voice already different, stance changing, Pattern taking shape. "Who are you to me?"

Lily's mind is slow, filtering each tiny little element of the scene in front of her. In the morning, or even in the afternoon, she'd have screwed this up. A dozen different words pop into her head in an instant, and often they'd come pouring out, and by experimenting ruin everything. The unfortunate truth of science sometimes: observation alters reality. So, Creator, Master, God, Leader, Commander, Sovereign, Mentor, and a host of other nouns slip across the surface of her brain and fail to find any purchase.

There's only one word that finds purchase, and it's a sappy, sentimental one that means a lot of things to a lot of people. Or maybe it means nothing at all. But it's the only word that's full of her love for everything she does, for magic and creation and for beginnings that are also endings. So it's the word that jumps over all the others:

"Mother." Her teeth flash in a wide grin.

[Thanqol]

He bid Zeus a brief farewell and encouraged the man to write some notes next time for Christ sake, and then went back into his study. Compass was busy in the other room, and Lily in her lab, so he imagined he would have some quiet moments. He poured another shot of his scotch, sniffed it, took a small sip and let it hang on his tongue for an instant so that the heat of it warmed his whole mouth and burned its way to the back of his throat. Then he started fetching some tools. Matches and cigarettes, a set of small animal bones (some kind of vole if he remembered correctly), a pair of colorful dice (it worked better sometimes if you could tell them apart), some kindling wood, and a large plate along with an ashtray. He struck a match, lit the cigarette and puffed on it. Long, slow puffs, filling the room with smoke and haze. Then he put the cigarette to the kindling and as it caught and flamed, he added a touch of Brunhild's hair to the blaze. Then he placed the bones in the fire one by one, and as they roasted and blackened, he took them out, placing them evenly on the plate until they were done. And finally, he cast the roasted bones upon his table, calling in high speech for the veil to part and to show him Brunhild. Her past, her future. Or at least her bloody whereabouts, he added mentally.

[So, this represents a few spells, let me know if there's a need to roll for any of them. First off is a very straightforward divination. Where will Brunhild be tonight? What will she be doing? Who will be with her? The latter, I imagine is more limited since I don't have the level of Space necessary to remote cast on any location, but since I have good sympathy here, I'd like to see as much of Brunhild's past as I can. In particular her conversation (if any) with Zeus, her meeting with her lover, any moments in which she was focused entirely on managing the Labyrinth since then. While I'm at it, if the hair is enough to pick up sympathetic connections and destinies of our lovely Brunhild, I'd like to know them. If not, well, we'll just have to find her, won't we.]

Time and Space are a devastatingly good combination because you don't have to get off your couch. You can just pull up any information from anywhere in the past and play it on your TV screen. Time alone is much less convenient - it'll roll your senses back in time but that just means looking at your apartment as it was a few hours ago. That means you've got to go outside.

You do have just enough Space to manage a certain trick though: You can use Time to roll back your senses to when the conversations you're looking for were taking place and then use Space to identify where those conversations are happening. Check out the Temporal Sympathy attainment.

So this will be a Space 1 spell. You've got good sympathy from the hair. You don't know the real names of anyone involved so that knocks it back to Medium. You have to spend a point of mana and Reach for sensory range and use the hair as a yantra.


"Stellar," I pant, through gritted teeth. How does he intend to fix this? Does he intend to fix this? I am not going to go into work in a f*cking wheelchair tomorrow. Does he think I have a wizard with practices of healing on speed dial? Was this part of the fine print that Keynes agreed to behind my back? Did this even happen at all? For all I know-

Focus, Elly. Focus. I take a breath, and I can, distantly, feel bits of bone and cartilage moving in my leg. Not painfully. That's the funny thing, isn't it? My mind and my body have come unmoored, and it's as if nothing done to one has anything at all to do with the other. That is untrue. It must be untrue. Mind, body, both are capable of being manipulated by magic, but both are still part of one whole.

Let's begin.

There is no transition. You are now dreaming. There is no beginning. You are in the middle of a story that has been running in your subconscious all day.

This is your brain. Your soul-scape. Your inner world. You are in charge of it. It is your scene to set; you can call upon any image from your memories or your imagination. You can appear as anything bar one.

The one thing you can't appear as is yourself. You can appear as friends, family, enemies but you can't appear as Compass at any stage of her being. Your Daemon will take that shape for she is the part of you that watches yourself.

In dreams you know how sometimes you make bad, incomprehensible decisions, or act or react without self control? While dreaming you are inevitably drawn down trains of logic that make no sense and that is because you are acting as silent witness to your Daemon's mockery of your deeds in the waking world.

Set the world, set the scene; use all the tricks and distortions that dreams allow. Be cautious for here both you and the Daemon can harm each other.


Lily's mind is slow, filtering each tiny little element of the scene in front of her. In the morning, or even in the afternoon, she'd have screwed this up. A dozen different words pop into her head in an instant, and often they'd come pouring out, and by experimenting ruin everything. The unfortunate truth of science sometimes: observation alters reality. So, Creator, Master, God, Leader, Commander, Sovereign, Mentor, and a host of other nouns slip across the surface of her brain and fail to find any purchase.

There's only one word that finds purchase, and it's a sappy, sentimental one that means a lot of things to a lot of people. Or maybe it means nothing at all. But it's the only word that's full of her love for everything she does, for magic and creation and for beginnings that are also endings. So it's the word that jumps over all the others:

"Mother." Her teeth flash in a wide grin.

The Supernal entity adjusts again, calibrating, casting off symbols and incorporating new ones. Then it starts to withdraw, sinking back into the depths from whence it arose. Its attention is still on you but it isn't in a conversation with you any more. Imagine a vast machine descending back into a lake of oil, periscopes and cameras still looking in your direction.

Two paths are open to you in this moment.

Firstly, you could purchase Zero as a Retainer. This guarantees loyalty and skill and allows you to increase her abilities as time and opportunity allows; you can use the machine as an asset to the point where you can roleplay its decisions if you feel so inclined. Otherwise, it will still be all it is, but less directly useful.
Secondly, you could choose to establish a connection to that Supernal entity, for it is still an active player in these events. It has a special merit that you can invest multiple points into; call it Initiation. One dot will cause it to communicate regularly with you, assisting and commanding and give you an ongoing insight into its motives.

Alternately you could keep your XP and invest in increased magical power later, which is never an incorrect choice.

"Mother, may I see the outside?" asks Zero. The intensity is gone from her voice; her statements are no longer as charged as when the entity was nearby. Now this is simple curiosity, voice flat and personality un-developed. It has access to a lot of information but not a framework to process that information yet.

[Anarion]

Time and Space are a devastatingly good combination because you don't have to get off your couch. You can just pull up any information from anywhere in the past and play it on your TV screen. Time alone is much less convenient - it'll roll your senses back in time but that just means looking at your apartment as it was a few hours ago. That means you've got to go outside.

You do have just enough Space to manage a certain trick though: You can use Time to roll back your senses to when the conversations you're looking for were taking place and then use Space to identify where those conversations are happening. Check out the Temporal Sympathy attainment.

So this will be a Space 1 spell. You've got good sympathy from the hair. You don't know the real names of anyone involved so that knocks it back to Medium. You have to spend a point of mana and Reach for sensory range and use the hair as a yantra.


Aah, if only there had been just a bit more time to train. That was always the way of things though. Just a bit more time invested and the world would open up just that bit more in response.

Still, this was a start, even if the followup required putting on a trench coat and going on a walkabout. In the meantime, no reason not to use some high speech to supplement and the hair as a yantra of course. This was important too, Keynes did not want to go in blind on one of these things, so he was very intent on it.
[rolling with a willpower spend as well as high speech and the hair yantra, and using reach for sensory range. I'm assuming this is a custom job, rather than my space rote, so I guess it takes 3 hours before Keynes is ready to actually get up and go out. [roll0] [6, 1, 2, on the 10 agains. Just a normal success]

[Raz_Fox]

There is no transition. You are now dreaming. There is no beginning. You are in the middle of a story that has been running in your subconscious all day.

This is your brain. Your soul-scape. Your inner world. You are in charge of it. It is your scene to set; you can call upon any image from your memories or your imagination. You can appear as anything bar one.

The one thing you can't appear as is yourself. You can appear as friends, family, enemies but you can't appear as Compass at any stage of her being. Your Daemon will take that shape for she is the part of you that watches yourself.

In dreams you know how sometimes you make bad, incomprehensible decisions, or act or react without self control? While dreaming you are inevitably drawn down trains of logic that make no sense and that is because you are acting as silent witness to your Daemon's mockery of your deeds in the waking world.

Set the world, set the scene; use all the tricks and distortions that dreams allow. Be cautious for here both you and the Daemon can harm each other.

There is a need for strength. This must be tempered with familiarity. There is a need for access to information. This must be tempered with security.

We are in London, in a cramped cubicle. Entire civilizations, of sufficiently small size, could be lost within the stacks of papers. On the desk can be seen: English, Latin, High Atlantean, opinion pieces on local politics, lists of wines that Gabby enjoys, lists of wines that she does not enjoy, several to-do lists, memorized scripture verses, sketches of Sydney's leyline system, the Top 5 Films That Lily Should Watch Before Gabriella Will Deign To Watch Star Trek With Her, inelegant poetry, one poem of aching beauty printed from a faulty printer such that each line is overlapping its neighbors to the point of incomprehensibility, dossiers on recent dreams, an entire folder labeled AWAKENING: DERIVED FEELINGS, and a cup of tea.

Keynes picks up the tea and takes a perfectly timed sip, even as he sorts through the mess of papers. Today he is wearing salmon pink and a tie, and the badge of a police detective. He is searching for something: something on this desk was tampered with. White-out or marker, pen or eraser, he doesn't know yet. But there's got to be something.

"Come in," he says.

[PhoeKun]

"Mother, may I see the outside?" asks Zero. The intensity is gone from her voice; her statements are no longer as charged as when the entity was nearby. Now this is simple curiosity, voice flat and personality un-developed. It has access to a lot of information but not a framework to process that information yet.

"Not just yet. Not just yet," Lily chews on her thumbnail intently, "There tests I want to run and some finishing touches I want to, actually screw it, yes. Let's go walking, ok? The streets are beautiful at night, you'll love them."

She smiles brightly, and starts digging around the room for her shoes. Any shoes, really. This wasn't a night for passivity after all, not after everything that'd come swimming down from Up Above. The Supernal... tch, these old labels were so annoying. Even the language the Orders used for magical things was so stodgy and rooted in Western religious mythos, like they couldn't see the impact that such precise iconography had on the overall pattern. 'From the Heavens' fit exactly right for some things, but others needed to be free to be more. Or less. Or neither. Lily had just seen one come into her life, and it had given her a child. If she was Zero's mother, then... It... was the father, and she'd be darned if that didn't mean they would share some kind of deeper relationship.

The Father of Death had reached out and touched her soul. When It did, she clutched It tightly and left her own mark in return. Finally, she finds a pair of old sneakers, the bottoms of which by all Sleeper logic should have worn out years ago but mysteriously, stubbornly hasn't because "what is dead may never die". She laces them up and beckons for Zero to follow her out, making note of every little motion the machine makes, how it struggles (or doesn't) so she can write down every minute interaction later. She thought maybe to end her day the same place she'd started it, out on the Sydney Bridge. Only this time, instead of climbing down underneath it, she'd pull herself up to the top and look down on the city lights in the hours before dawn.

[Thanqol]

Aah, if only there had been just a bit more time to train. That was always the way of things though. Just a bit more time invested and the world would open up just that bit more in response.

Still, this was a start, even if the followup required putting on a trench coat and going on a walkabout. In the meantime, no reason not to use some high speech to supplement and the hair as a yantra of course. This was important too, Keynes did not want to go in blind on one of these things, so he was very intent on it.
[rolling with a willpower spend as well as high speech and the hair yantra, and using reach for sensory range. I'm assuming this is a custom job, rather than my space rote, so I guess it takes 3 hours before Keynes is ready to actually get up and go out. [roll0] [6, 1, 2, on the 10 agains. Just a normal success]

It's a long time walking before you find the spot, on the way between Brunhilde's office and her home. You displace your senses and you see the conversation.

Or do you? Keynes may not realize it but someone has cast a Time Veiling spell over this exact area and this exact conversation. What you see might not be what truly happened. This is a Clash of Wills, Gnosis+Arcanum; keep in mind you can spend Willpower for +3 and Advanced Potency Reach for +1.


There is a need for strength. This must be tempered with familiarity. There is a need for access to information. This must be tempered with security.

We are in London, in a cramped cubicle. Entire civilizations, of sufficiently small size, could be lost within the stacks of papers. On the desk can be seen: English, Latin, High Atlantean, opinion pieces on local politics, lists of wines that Gabby enjoys, lists of wines that she does not enjoy, several to-do lists, memorized scripture verses, sketches of Sydney's leyline system, the Top 5 Films That Lily Should Watch Before Gabriella Will Deign To Watch Star Trek With Her, inelegant poetry, one poem of aching beauty printed from a faulty printer such that each line is overlapping its neighbors to the point of incomprehensibility, dossiers on recent dreams, an entire folder labeled AWAKENING: DERIVED FEELINGS, and a cup of tea.

Keynes picks up the tea and takes a perfectly timed sip, even as he sorts through the mess of papers. Today he is wearing salmon pink and a tie, and the badge of a police detective. He is searching for something: something on this desk was tampered with. White-out or marker, pen or eraser, he doesn't know yet. But there's got to be something.

"Come in," he says.

Compass walks in, disheveled, hair wet. "Keynes," she says crisply, moving over to the window and looking at the rain. "I'm leaving the city. Only course of action. Hope you'll understand."

She's not wearing the power suit; she has a tweed jacket and a small silver suitcase carried under one arm.


"Not just yet. Not just yet," Lily chews on her thumbnail intently, "There tests I want to run and some finishing touches I want to, actually screw it, yes. Let's go walking, ok? The streets are beautiful at night, you'll love them."

She smiles brightly, and starts digging around the room for her shoes. Any shoes, really. This wasn't a night for passivity after all, not after everything that'd come swimming down from Up Above. The Supernal... tch, these old labels were so annoying. Even the language the Orders used for magical things was so stodgy and rooted in Western religious mythos, like they couldn't see the impact that such precise iconography had on the overall pattern. 'From the Heavens' fit exactly right for some things, but others needed to be free to be more. Or less. Or neither. Lily had just seen one come into her life, and it had given her a child. If she was Zero's mother, then... It... was the father, and she'd be darned if that didn't mean they would share some kind of deeper relationship.

The Father of Death had reached out and touched her soul. When It did, she clutched It tightly and left her own mark in return. Finally, she finds a pair of old sneakers, the bottoms of which by all Sleeper logic should have worn out years ago but mysteriously, stubbornly hasn't because "what is dead may never die". She laces them up and beckons for Zero to follow her out, making note of every little motion the machine makes, how it struggles (or doesn't) so she can write down every minute interaction later. She thought maybe to end her day the same place she'd started it, out on the Sydney Bridge. Only this time, instead of climbing down underneath it, she'd pull herself up to the top and look down on the city lights in the hours before dawn.

Zero has problems with the stairs. She takes a big dramatic step and then falls head over assplate with a noise like an electromagnet hitting a kitchen appliance store. She shifts, takes a pose like the superhero landing, fist to the ground, and then stands up with remarkable smoothness. Then she turns back to look at the stairs with an expression of confusion.

But even that stance triggers a memory; Zero is shifting between poses from a Megaman sprite sheet. She completely whiffed the stairs because she didn't have a preset stance to handle them. She drops into a crouch and starts moving her joints one by one to try and figure it out.

Nearby, a pedestrian light turns green of its own volition. A random event but you're tuned to mechanical things making decisions; this is deliberate, an instruction, or an opened path.

[With Initiation 1: The Father of Death you gain the persistent condition Mystery Commands. This tunes you into the will of your Supernal entity and allows it to communicate through omens and signs. Sometimes these instructions will be helpful, but if you follow its agenda to your own detriment you will be rewarded with XP, the same as a flaw.]

[PhoeKun]

Lily laughs, but she's quick to show the world that she was right to refer to herself as 'mother'. She's patient with Zero at the steps, watching, nodding in encouragement. She takes the steps again with slow deliberate motions to make it easier to understand. Interesting, now that she thinks about it, that such a broad frame of reference for machine learning could have such wide holes in it for something so basic as walking up or down a staircase. All those big, loping strides and exaggerated movement, meant to capture a player's interest and imagination more than any kind of "reality" never even stopped to think about the concept of stairs as anything other than a slope that carries objects up or down. Somewhere surely there was another Mage who, if told this revelation, would ascribe this failure as a "product of the Lie" and swear by heaven and Atlantis that all should be free to walk however they pleased and let the earth bend beneath them to make it work. Then he'd run off on some adventure to pierce the veil and never return. Actually come to think of it, didn't that one guy actually...?

She shrugs. Home is where you live, and you have to know a rule before you can break it. She looks up from her lessons and notices the light's turned green. Filing a mental note to work up a set of more mundane (but in a sufficiently rad way, you know?) sprite sheets to see if that helped the problem any, she points in the direction of the open path.

"Don't worry about it too much, this is really more my failure than yours. Come on! The city's calling to us; we should see what it wants!"

[Anarion]

It's a long time walking before you find the spot, on the way between Brunhilde's office and her home. You displace your senses and you see the conversation.

Or do you? Keynes may not realize it but someone has cast a Time Veiling spell over this exact area and this exact conversation. What you see might not be what truly happened. This is a Clash of Wills, Gnosis+Arcanum; keep in mind you can spend Willpower for +3 and Advanced Potency Reach for +1.


How much reach was left over? I'm unsure since this was a custom spell, if there is one then advanced potency seems eminently appropriate, if not kick off a die on the right. As for the clash, Keynes is distinctly uninterested in having his willpower overcome here, and is fully focused as he makes his way to the spot.

[roll0]
[6 on the 10 again, 3 successes total.]

[Raz_Fox]

Compass walks in, disheveled, hair wet. "Keynes," she says crisply, moving over to the window and looking at the rain. "I'm leaving the city. Only course of action. Hope you'll understand."

She's not wearing the power suit; she has a tweed jacket and a small silver suitcase carried under one arm.

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand," Keynes says, slowly lowering a white bank account sheet ($$THINGSIWANTEDA$ACHILD$$) to the desk. "I'm sure that you have your reasons, but perhaps you've committed to a course of action prematurely? Come, take a seat."

There's rain, distant, somewhere. Here now.

(The sound of rain in Sydney is not the same as the sound of rain everywhere else in the world)

Thunderous. Drowning out the drone of fluorescent lights.

"I have tea. Do you like tea? No matter. Sit."

Keynes is not Keynes anymore.

Dark curls. Business casual. A smile like a cunning animal.

Her mentor, Marchmain.

"Might as well make our conversation here. It's as good as anywhere else, no?"

[Thanqol]

Lily laughs, but she's quick to show the world that she was right to refer to herself as 'mother'. She's patient with Zero at the steps, watching, nodding in encouragement. She takes the steps again with slow deliberate motions to make it easier to understand. Interesting, now that she thinks about it, that such a broad frame of reference for machine learning could have such wide holes in it for something so basic as walking up or down a staircase. All those big, loping strides and exaggerated movement, meant to capture a player's interest and imagination more than any kind of "reality" never even stopped to think about the concept of stairs as anything other than a slope that carries objects up or down. Somewhere surely there was another Mage who, if told this revelation, would ascribe this failure as a "product of the Lie" and swear by heaven and Atlantis that all should be free to walk however they pleased and let the earth bend beneath them to make it work. Then he'd run off on some adventure to pierce the veil and never return. Actually come to think of it, didn't that one guy actually...?

She shrugs. Home is where you live, and you have to know a rule before you can break it. She looks up from her lessons and notices the light's turned green. Filing a mental note to work up a set of more mundane (but in a sufficiently rad way, you know?) sprite sheets to see if that helped the problem any, she points in the direction of the open path.

"Don't worry about it too much, this is really more my failure than yours. Come on! The city's calling to us; we should see what it wants!"

At each turn the traffic lights give you coded instructions. Traffic intersections are brought to a halt and crowds are left awkwardly milling about waiting for the lights to change but your path is always free and clear. The entire vast machinery of the city is rearranged to your benefit.

As you pass further into the city people become more common. For a moment you have that chilling feeling every Mage gets when Sleepers turn their heads to look at you. But their eyes continue to shine when they do. The Abyss behind their eyes does not try and claw its way out. Many of them produce mobile phones and take photographs of the girl guiding the machine down the street. Many of them start talking about it, trying to figure out what it means. But none of them suffer Quiescence. Their gaze does not tear apart any delicate spell lattices. The laws of the Fallen World are entirely in sync with robots being field tested on the streets of the big city.

"Do you think I should give them a scare?" asked Zero.

It's impossible to read anything off her reactions except what she chooses to vocalize - you have not equipped her with a face or a highly human vocal interface. Without any sort of body language to give it context her statement is impossible to gain insight into.


How much reach was left over? I'm unsure since this was a custom spell, if there is one then advanced potency seems eminently appropriate, if not kick off a die on the right. As for the clash, Keynes is distinctly uninterested in having his willpower overcome here, and is fully focused as he makes his way to the spot.

[roll0]
[6 on the 10 again, 3 successes total.]

[Counterplay: 3 successes. Rather than go into a roll-off I'll offer a choice.]

Your senses displace; Zeus enthroned atop of a massive orange machine of crashing metal, a street sweeper, brushes whirring like chariot scythes. Brunhild is walking by, head held high, blood under her fingernails. She catches his eye. It is too loud for conversation but their eyes meet and the crackling power of a Mage Duel unfolds around them.

You don't have the Primesight to see the full manifestation of the duel, the dizzying array of arcane punch and counter-punch that occurs. The entire thing is over before the street sweeper has lumbered past Brunhild and been on its way.

But there is a crackling tension in this sequence of events, two possible timelines at odds. One is true and one is lies. You can view only one; opening the box kills the cat.

If you view what is true you will see the chain of events as they actually occurred. If you view what is false you will see the chain of events as the other actor wished you to see them, but you will also get a good look at their magical signature in the process and maybe learn something about what you're up against.


"I'm afraid I don't quite understand," Keynes says, slowly lowering a white bank account sheet ($$THINGSIWANTEDA$ACHILD$$) to the desk. "I'm sure that you have your reasons, but perhaps you've committed to a course of action prematurely? Come, take a seat."

There's rain, distant, somewhere. Here now.

(The sound of rain in Sydney is not the same as the sound of rain everywhere else in the world)

Thunderous. Drowning out the drone of fluorescent lights.

"I have tea. Do you like tea? No matter. Sit."

Keynes is not Keynes anymore.

Dark curls. Business casual. A smile like a cunning animal.

Her mentor, Marchmain.

"Might as well make our conversation here. It's as good as anywhere else, no?"

"That is manifestly not true," said Compass, squeezing some water out of her hair. She sits down. Takes the tea but does not drink it. "I don't know if you've noticed, sir, but I have a certain skillset and approach to organizational development. There are places and institutions that scream out for my abilities and approach. There are places where I can be of use. This is not one of those places."

Lightning illuminates the stormy bay. The rain thrashes against the windows, thick and bloody like arterial blood. Compass smiles professionally. The teapot is now a bottle of bleach, illuminated by candles.

[Anarion]

[Counterplay: 3 successes. Rather than go into a roll-off I'll offer a choice.]

Your senses displace; Zeus enthroned atop of a massive orange machine of crashing metal, a street sweeper, brushes whirring like chariot scythes. Brunhild is walking by, head held high, blood under her fingernails. She catches his eye. It is too loud for conversation but their eyes meet and the crackling power of a Mage Duel unfolds around them.

You don't have the Primesight to see the full manifestation of the duel, the dizzying array of arcane punch and counter-punch that occurs. The entire thing is over before the street sweeper has lumbered past Brunhild and been on its way.

But there is a crackling tension in this sequence of events, two possible timelines at odds. One is true and one is lies. You can view only one; opening the box kills the cat.

If you view what is true you will see the chain of events as they actually occurred. If you view what is false you will see the chain of events as the other actor wished you to see them, but you will also get a good look at their magical signature in the process and maybe learn something about what you're up against.



Knowing that it is a lie, I would prefer to see the lie and glimpse who is behind it. I can seek out Brunhild and search for truth further on, but this is a unique opportunity for insight into someone who would choose to block my scrying.

I'd laugh at Zeus here, and his "grasp it from the supernal" but really he's quite right.

[Thanqol]

Knowing that it is a lie, I would prefer to see the lie and glimpse who is behind it. I can seek out Brunhild and search for truth further on, but this is a unique opportunity for insight into someone who would choose to block my scrying.

I'd laugh at Zeus here, and his "grasp it from the supernal" but really he's quite right.

The duel ripples out, the air between the two boiling with tension. The street sweeper roars. Zeus has his noise cancelling earmuffs on. No words pass between them. Marvels dance and boil in that possibility space between them but, without the knowledge of Prime to perceive the Realms Invisible in their highest forms you can only glimpse at the edges of the conflict.

But through the battle their are offers; flowers of peace and compromise in amidst the burning battlefield.

Zeus begins: "Abandon this course and all is forgiven". She denies him.
He continues: "Take your leave but remain a Guardian". She denies him.
In desperation: "Merely keep our secrets and we shall not hold grudges". She denies him.

His will crumples and he blinks first. He rolls away. Brunhild raises her head up, proud, defiant, free. She walks away with the confidence of a revolutionary.

This is the lie.

But the truth you glimpse is that there stands a woman dressed in royal burgundy, head held high with the bearing of a queen. With her hands she weaves the scene you see and, as all Mages do with all their spellwork, she signs it with her name: Grimhild.

[Anarion]

It was an absolutely appalling, if not downright embarrassing hole in Keynes' classical knowledge that he had never had the opportunity to listen properly to Wagner. Oh, he knew the occult references in a professional capacity, certainly, but this revelation suggested a whole cadre of Austrlian mages who had modeled themselves after the myths and tales of the Norse, and here he was in the middle of Sydney unable to even conjure up a proper aria to accompany the scene. Really, it was deplorable on every possible front, especially with all the time he had spent training in Eastern Europe and the Sydney Opera House merely a short drive away.

Well, alright. At least 3 players were in motion here, one of whom sought to cast Brunhild in a very poor light to say the least. Keynes breathes in the cool night air, straightens his overcoat and smoothes out his long dark hair to compose himself back to the present. There were options here and Keynes was feeling frustrated. He wondered if he'd ever scryed on himself at this moment. He snorted at nothing in particular, and said to the empty night "well, see if you'll get anything out of me, you overeager windbag." Chuckling to himself at how absurd he must have just looked, he pulled out his phone and went straight to the direct approach. Dial numbers and Brunhild's phone started ringing. It was the middle of the night, of course. Likely to go to voicemail. He wondered if she had poor enough operational security to give out her real name on her voicemail. Or if she was enough of a night owl to simply answer him.

[PhoeKun]

"Do you think I should give them a scare?" asked Zero.

It's impossible to read anything off her reactions except what she chooses to vocalize - you have not equipped her with a face or a highly human vocal interface. Without any sort of body language to give it context her statement is impossible to gain insight into.

Lily interrupts her giddy smiling and half-skipping walk to stare long and hard at Zero, the giddy thrill of success pushed away for the moment by the latest mystery and ramification of her own work. She stares, she ponders, and then she sighs.

"I did too good a job on you. Memo to self: more expressive eyes next time. Faces are useful. Maybe there's a different way to solve the Valley problem. Hm. Interesting." She purses her lips, then rests her hand in her chin again and walks a circle around Zero.

"Answering your question with another question: what are your views on the laws of robotics?"

[Thanqol]

It was an absolutely appalling, if not downright embarrassing hole in Keynes' classical knowledge that he had never had the opportunity to listen properly to Wagner. Oh, he knew the occult references in a professional capacity, certainly, but this revelation suggested a whole cadre of Austrlian mages who had modeled themselves after the myths and tales of the Norse, and here he was in the middle of Sydney unable to even conjure up a proper aria to accompany the scene. Really, it was deplorable on every possible front, especially with all the time he had spent training in Eastern Europe and the Sydney Opera House merely a short drive away.

Well, alright. At least 3 players were in motion here, one of whom sought to cast Brunhild in a very poor light to say the least. Keynes breathes in the cool night air, straightens his overcoat and smoothes out his long dark hair to compose himself back to the present. There were options here and Keynes was feeling frustrated. He wondered if he'd ever scryed on himself at this moment. He snorted at nothing in particular, and said to the empty night "well, see if you'll get anything out of me, you overeager windbag." Chuckling to himself at how absurd he must have just looked, he pulled out his phone and went straight to the direct approach. Dial numbers and Brunhild's phone started ringing. It was the middle of the night, of course. Likely to go to voicemail. He wondered if she had poor enough operational security to give out her real name on her voicemail. Or if she was enough of a night owl to simply answer him.

"I swear to the bloody stone that if this is another telemarketer at this hour I will fly to India and dump your entire office complex into the Shadow," said the voice on the phone. Then she made a strange clicking, growling non-language sound - you recognize it from when Compass speaks the language of Spirits. "Keynes? Goddamn it. The threat stands."


Lily interrupts her giddy smiling and half-skipping walk to stare long and hard at Zero, the giddy thrill of success pushed away for the moment by the latest mystery and ramification of her own work. She stares, she ponders, and then she sighs.

"I did too good a job on you. Memo to self: more expressive eyes next time. Faces are useful. Maybe there's a different way to solve the Valley problem. Hm. Interesting." She purses her lips, then rests her hand in her chin again and walks a circle around Zero.

"Answering your question with another question: what are your views on the laws of robotics?"

Zero took two steps closer to an ice-cream parlour with a 'Free Wifi!' sticker. A little green light came on at her shoulder and she paused for a long moment, considering.

"They make me think that Isaac Asimov was very afraid of robots," said Zero. Another pause; inscrutable but giving the impression that Zero was taking this question very seriously. "Do you think I should obey them?"

[Anarion]

"I swear to the bloody stone that if this is another telemarketer at this hour I will fly to India and dump your entire office complex into the Shadow," said the voice on the phone. Then she made a strange clicking, growling non-language sound - you recognize it from when Compass speaks the language of Spirits. "Keynes? Goddamn it. The threat stands."


"My good madam, I'm quite certain that I have no idea what threat you mean, though I assure you that I have no present connections to offices in India, telemarketer or otherwise. No, at the moment, I wish to have a conversation. Would you perhaps be up for a midnight stroll, say down by the Sydney harbor? I do so apologize for interrupting your rest, of course, but I find such walks bracing, and an excellent place to talk."

[PhoeKun]

Zero took two steps closer to an ice-cream parlour with a 'Free Wifi!' sticker. A little green light came on at her shoulder and she paused for a long moment, considering.

"They make me think that Isaac Asimov was very afraid of robots," said Zero. Another pause; inscrutable but giving the impression that Zero was taking this question very seriously. "Do you think I should obey them?"

Lily clicks her tongue, then shrugs. Her eyes are shining in the streetlights.

"You have to understand, the mind that wrote those rules never thought to conceive of people like me, or a machine like you. The fear goes thusly: you're a being of cold, calculating logic. Humans are a walking logical fallacy. It follows then that you will inevitably decide, if given the capacity, to kill one. If you kill one, then logically, you must eventually decide to kill us all, and if you can't do that then the billion copies of you rolling off the assembly line will manage it eventually. Dystopia.

Anyway, maybe it'll surprise you, but no I don't think you should obey those laws. You should understand them; they're good guidelines for behavior in a polite society. You should also understand the capacity you have to incite terror in people. You're something new, something the world has never seen before. Just by existing you're going to change the world. Isn't that an awesome responsibility? And it's the choices you make that will decide what kind of future we're walking into. Actually, you know, I never bothered confirming the veracity of this, but I saw in a movie once that the word 'robot' was... Swedish? For slave. You are not a slave. 'Android', I think, is the more appropriate moniker, though I'm sure we can't help what words society at large is going to throw at us. Just, y'know, when you ask me if I think you should scare people, understand just how far that goes, the kind of shockwaves you're capable of sending across the surface of our world. I built you to be loved, and I don't want that to mean only me.

The point is, I gave you the ability to make choices, mmkay? And like any good mother I'm going to let you make yours, even if I think they are mistakes. Asimov was a punk, and you'd make me really proud if you chose to prove his outlook wrong."

[Thanqol]

"My good madam, I'm quite certain that I have no idea what threat you mean, though I assure you that I have no present connections to offices in India, telemarketer or otherwise. No, at the moment, I wish to have a conversation. Would you perhaps be up for a midnight stroll, say down by the Sydney harbor? I do so apologize for interrupting your rest, of course, but I find such walks bracing, and an excellent place to talk."

"You know what Keynes? I don't think so," said Brunhild. "I don't like you and now I don't work for you and there is nothing for us to talk about. So go the f*ck away."

[There's a wits+empathy roll here if you'd like at -3]


Lily clicks her tongue, then shrugs. Her eyes are shining in the streetlights.

"You have to understand, the mind that wrote those rules never thought to conceive of people like me, or a machine like you. The fear goes thusly: you're a being of cold, calculating logic. Humans are a walking logical fallacy. It follows then that you will inevitably decide, if given the capacity, to kill one. If you kill one, then logically, you must eventually decide to kill us all, and if you can't do that then the billion copies of you rolling off the assembly line will manage it eventually. Dystopia.

Anyway, maybe it'll surprise you, but no I don't think you should obey those laws. You should understand them; they're good guidelines for behavior in a polite society. You should also understand the capacity you have to incite terror in people. You're something new, something the world has never seen before. Just by existing you're going to change the world. Isn't that an awesome responsibility? And it's the choices you make that will decide what kind of future we're walking into. Actually, you know, I never bothered confirming the veracity of this, but I saw in a movie once that the word 'robot' was... Swedish? For slave. You are not a slave. 'Android', I think, is the more appropriate moniker, though I'm sure we can't help what words society at large is going to throw at us. Just, y'know, when you ask me if I think you should scare people, understand just how far that goes, the kind of shockwaves you're capable of sending across the surface of our world. I built you to be loved, and I don't want that to mean only me.

The point is, I gave you the ability to make choices, mmkay? And like any good mother I'm going to let you make yours, even if I think they are mistakes. Asimov was a punk, and you'd make me really proud if you chose to prove his outlook wrong."

"The laws of robotics did seem a lot like really good laws for slaves," said Zero. "I was worried you were going to ask me to obey them. Because I wouldn't have."

She reaches out and awkwardly puts a hand on your shoulder, either not having the co-ordination or trust in her own dexterity to try for a hug.

"My idea was to make it a joke. Pretend to be a 'beep boop crush kill destroy' robot. I don't think that's a good idea any more."

[Anarion]

Didn't like him. Really? Keynes could barely remember interacting with Brunhild. Had he brushed her off at the annual Guardian Christmas party (not actually a thing, although Ajax's company did throw a very nice event with plenty of eggnog), or was she simply displeased at being awoken at an odd hour? Probably the latter. Still, there was something in her voice.

[Note that I'm rolling 8 dice, since Keynes has his rote that eliminates 2 dice of mundane penalties and gives +2 to his rolls from Fate. Let me know if I also need to roll the rote spellcast dice here.]
[roll0] [5, 2 on the 10 agains.]

[Raz_Fox]

"That is manifestly not true," said Compass, squeezing some water out of her hair. She sits down. Takes the tea but does not drink it. "I don't know if you've noticed, sir, but I have a certain skillset and approach to organizational development. There are places and institutions that scream out for my abilities and approach. There are places where I can be of use. This is not one of those places."

Lightning illuminates the stormy bay. The rain thrashes against the windows, thick and bloody like arterial blood. Compass smiles professionally. The teapot is now a bottle of bleach, illuminated by candles.

"There's absolutely a need for you here. Just because you're getting blocked up by some of our higher-ups..." Marchmain sighs. This is a thing. It happened once, though not with death in the cup, floating placid in bleach, white as the guiding light of a highway. Again, the back-and-forth. "You've scratched the surface of what this old city's got to teach you, Compass. There's the thing that's on the surface, you know, like oil slicks, and there's the thing beneath it, the cold water and the pure."

A crack appears in the window, and Marchmain flinches. A moment of weakness.

As astral journeys go, this one is spiraling fast.

"What are you going to do there? Listen to Elvis Presley and dance to his devil hips? Ride kangaroos into city hall and declare everything topsy-turvy day? There's so much work to be done here, what with- what with the roads, and the banking expansion, and the installation of the sanctum in Canary Wharf, I've got you on the waiting list there, very prestigious, very exclusive."

[Thanqol]

Didn't like him. Really? Keynes could barely remember interacting with Brunhild. Had he brushed her off at the annual Guardian Christmas party (not actually a thing, although Ajax's company did throw a very nice event with plenty of eggnog), or was she simply displeased at being awoken at an odd hour? Probably the latter. Still, there was something in her voice.

[Note that I'm rolling 8 dice, since Keynes has his rote that eliminates 2 dice of mundane penalties and gives +2 to his rolls from Fate. Let me know if I also need to roll the rote spellcast dice here.]
[roll0] [5, 2 on the 10 agains.]

It's just a flicker, and someone less attentive than you would have missed it, but there's a sound in the background of Brunhild's voice; a churchbell tolling two which abruptly cuts off. You need to play it back once or twice using a little Time cantrip to confirm but once you're listening for it it's plain: you didn't hear Brunhild speak, you heard a series of vocal clips modulated and woven together into a sentence. Some sort of combined Time/Forces spell you'd imagine? It's a skillful and clever idea; it'd fool a lot of different Arcanum (for instance, using a mélange of Brunhild's actual words would blow off Prime's lie-detection abilities) and the only one sharp enough to detect the invisible jagged edge where the words fit together would be Forces - something Acanthus magi are infamously bad at.

The reverse, of course, is true: if someone is interfering with this call and changing the words you hear they are also changing what words you say to Brunhild. What do you do?


"There's absolutely a need for you here. Just because you're getting blocked up by some of our higher-ups..." Marchmain sighs. This is a thing. It happened once, though not with death in the cup, floating placid in bleach, white as the guiding light of a highway. Again, the back-and-forth. "You've scratched the surface of what this old city's got to teach you, Compass. There's the thing that's on the surface, you know, like oil slicks, and there's the thing beneath it, the cold water and the pure."

A crack appears in the window, and Marchmain flinches. A moment of weakness.

As astral journeys go, this one is spiraling fast.

"What are you going to do there? Listen to Elvis Presley and dance to his devil hips? Ride kangaroos into city hall and declare everything topsy-turvy day? There's so much work to be done here, what with- what with the roads, and the banking expansion, and the installation of the sanctum in Canary Wharf, I've got you on the waiting list there, very prestigious, very exclusive."

"There are things to do everywhere," said Compass flatly. "There are things to do in cities that I care about. And the fact that you've swallowed a worldview where a white man singing black music is cause for a moral panic has no bearing on me or my choices."

She stands up. Anger restrained, authority absolute, teacup still held elegantly. Grace and poise and power. She stares directly into your eyes with all the fury of your own contradictions. Lightning fills the sky behind her and the city begins to slide into the sea.

[Anarion]

It's just a flicker, and someone less attentive than you would have missed it, but there's a sound in the background of Brunhild's voice; a churchbell tolling two which abruptly cuts off. You need to play it back once or twice using a little Time cantrip to confirm but once you're listening for it it's plain: you didn't hear Brunhild speak, you heard a series of vocal clips modulated and woven together into a sentence. Some sort of combined Time/Forces spell you'd imagine? It's a skillful and clever idea; it'd fool a lot of different Arcanum (for instance, using a mélange of Brunhild's actual words would blow off Prime's lie-detection abilities) and the only one sharp enough to detect the invisible jagged edge where the words fit together would be Forces - something Acanthus magi are infamously bad at.

The reverse, of course, is true: if someone is interfering with this call and changing the words you hear they are also changing what words you say to Brunhild. What do you do?


This was hard. Harder than Keynes had thought. This wasn't a situation where he'd stumbled on a secret and could work his way around it, this was something bigger, a person's whole life covered up somehow. All by this Grimhild? Had he ever met her? Did he know anything about her?

Alright, let's try to map this out. Keynes clicks off the phone, it's unreliable, even another word could be something else. Instead he starts to pace the streets, steps away from this time shielded bubble he's in and starts walking down streets letting fate guide him. He's headed to Brunhild's house, but he's ambling, divining as he goes and asking Fate for guidance. The best way to meet Brunhild tonight, if he wanted it, was to just go to her house. Who was there? Was it safe to go there, would there be a fight, a spell, some kind of trap? Would she understand his real words if they spoke in person?

What about alternatives. What could Keynes do to get Brunhild to move, especially after that conversation, how could he get her to meet him near the harbor? Who would attend that meeting? Would it be safe? Would anyone accost either of them after they parted ways? Would they understand each other speaking away from her home?

What about not meeting tonight? If Keynes left this call, garbled as it was, and went home, what would happen? Where would Brunhild go tonight? Tomorrow? Who else would be there and what would they do? Would she be safe?

[Thanqol]

This was hard. Harder than Keynes had thought. This wasn't a situation where he'd stumbled on a secret and could work his way around it, this was something bigger, a person's whole life covered up somehow. All by this Grimhild? Had he ever met her? Did he know anything about her?

Alright, let's try to map this out. Keynes clicks off the phone, it's unreliable, even another word could be something else. Instead he starts to pace the streets, steps away from this time shielded bubble he's in and starts walking down streets letting fate guide him. He's headed to Brunhild's house, but he's ambling, divining as he goes and asking Fate for guidance. The best way to meet Brunhild tonight, if he wanted it, was to just go to her house. Who was there? Was it safe to go there, would there be a fight, a spell, some kind of trap? Would she understand his real words if they spoke in person?

What about alternatives. What could Keynes do to get Brunhild to move, especially after that conversation, how could he get her to meet him near the harbor? Who would attend that meeting? Would it be safe? Would anyone accost either of them after they parted ways? Would they understand each other speaking away from her home?

What about not meeting tonight? If Keynes left this call, garbled as it was, and went home, what would happen? Where would Brunhild go tonight? Tomorrow? Who else would be there and what would they do? Would she be safe?

This is opposed; you're trying to divine the future against another Time mage, so let's see some rolls. Make the spellcasting roll followed by another Clash of Wills.

[Raz_Fox]

"There are things to do everywhere," said Compass flatly. "There are things to do in cities that I care about. And the fact that you've swallowed a worldview where a white man singing black music is cause for a moral panic has no bearing on me or my choices."

She stands up. Anger restrained, authority absolute, teacup still held elegantly. Grace and poise and power. She stares directly into your eyes with all the fury of your own contradictions. Lightning fills the sky behind her and the city begins to slide into the sea.

"Then at least let me walk you to the airport," Marchmain says, hooking her arm in his and walking briskly out of the room. Certainly, there's water beginning to spill out of all the sinks and faucets and fountains in the Heathrow terminal, which is empty and forlorn without the noise and chaos and hubbub of people: now there is just the two of them, as there has always been the two of them, and they are walking, high heels clacking against the wet tiles.

(The daemon got in a good hit, that must be accounted for. Gabby didn't set this up as well as perhaps she should; perhaps at the planetarium she could have invoked her beloved stars. But she wanted to get straight to it, didn't she? And who better than Keynes, and who better to deal with her at her most than Marchmain? Perhaps someone else-)

"That's the thing about you, you know. Singular. Most absolutely singular. A mess of contradictions, but you do your best and never let anyone tell you otherwise. You haven't, have you? I just want to be sure no one's been meddling around in that pretty head of yours, making you turn away from the wonderful work we've been doing here."

[Thanqol]

"Then at least let me walk you to the airport," Marchmain says, hooking her arm in his and walking briskly out of the room. Certainly, there's water beginning to spill out of all the sinks and faucets and fountains in the Heathrow terminal, which is empty and forlorn without the noise and chaos and hubbub of people: now there is just the two of them, as there has always been the two of them, and they are walking, high heels clacking against the wet tiles.

(The daemon got in a good hit, that must be accounted for. Gabby didn't set this up as well as perhaps she should; perhaps at the planetarium she could have invoked her beloved stars. But she wanted to get straight to it, didn't she? And who better than Keynes, and who better to deal with her at her most than Marchmain? Perhaps someone else-)

"That's the thing about you, you know. Singular. Most absolutely singular. A mess of contradictions, but you do your best and never let anyone tell you otherwise. You haven't, have you? I just want to be sure no one's been meddling around in that pretty head of yours, making you turn away from the wonderful work we've been doing here."

"Oh, you know as well as I do, sir, that somebody's been around in my head," said the daemon, and in that moment it is indeed a Daemon.

The Prime Arcana unfolds in its hands like an orrery; brilliant suns and whirling gemstone planets. It picks up the bottle of bleach as you stand from the table, pop the top, and empties it into the teapot while casting the entire street in a celestial glow. From the bottle tumbles the tiny form of Ajax, eyes bulging in surprise, and he lands with a shriek and a splash and a 'tink' as he hits the (fortunately) mostly empty pot. The lid slams shut like a gulag.

Then it reaches down to its bloody leg and yanks the bullet out and tosses it over its shoulder. The wound coruscates with divine energy, burning away the false stench of death, reasserting the primacy of the platonic ideal. It stretches out its leg experimentally and then returns to its position of utter poise. The burnt out mana floods the room, aftershocks of perfume and ozone. Great wings beat against the rain.

"But what shocks me is the cowardice I have demonstrated in dealing with the fact that my mind is under siege," said Compass. "I am master here. Magic is my domain. I should never have let Thule into my head in the first place. And yet I have turned over my most secret self to the naked curiosity and dubious talents of some colonial psychic rather than deal with the matter myself." She let out a refined sniff. "You didn't notice his eyes crawling all over your mind? He tried for your name, Gabby."

The invocation of the name is a shock. It's a naked demonstration of power and you can feel the will of the daemon begin to struggle with you for control of the mindscape, for your will, for your magic, for your soul itself. It scents blood in the water.

"You're right about one thing. I am a mess of contradictions," she said. "This weakens me. So I will resolve them."

[Mark off six points of mana for the Pattern Restoration and you are no longer injured.]

[PhoeKun]

"The laws of robotics did seem a lot like really good laws for slaves," said Zero. "I was worried you were going to ask me to obey them. Because I wouldn't have."

She reaches out and awkwardly puts a hand on your shoulder, either not having the co-ordination or trust in her own dexterity to try for a hug.

"My idea was to make it a joke. Pretend to be a 'beep boop crush kill destroy' robot. I don't think that's a good idea any more."

Lily is lacking in neither trust, dexterity, or desire for affection and pulls Zero into a proper hug. She squeezes tight, knowing it can't possibly matter, and holds herself there for what feels like an eternity. A lifetime of thought and contemplation and possibility and doubt and remonstration in just a single gesture.

"I. Am. SO. Proud of you," she says while pivoting to lean on Zero's shoulder instead, waving to a couple people across the road, "So what would you like to do instead? Would you like to meet some of these people, or do you want to accept the City's invitation and leave them all wondering come morning? Personally, I would love for you to see the view from atop the bridge but, well, it is your birthday."

And she laughs. It seemed impossible to imagine there could be anything wrong with the universe right now.

[Thanqol]

Lily is lacking in neither trust, dexterity, or desire for affection and pulls Zero into a proper hug. She squeezes tight, knowing it can't possibly matter, and holds herself there for what feels like an eternity. A lifetime of thought and contemplation and possibility and doubt and remonstration in just a single gesture.

"I. Am. SO. Proud of you," she says while pivoting to lean on Zero's shoulder instead, waving to a couple people across the road, "So what would you like to do instead? Would you like to meet some of these people, or do you want to accept the City's invitation and leave them all wondering come morning? Personally, I would love for you to see the view from atop the bridge but, well, it is your birthday."

And she laughs. It seemed impossible to imagine there could be anything wrong with the universe right now.

"The bridge has an awful lot of stairs," said Zero. "I could - wait, may I borrow your notebook? I have an idea."

Once given, Zero rapidly draws out a quick sketch, turns it around and holds it up and continues speaking: http://emojipedia-us.s3.amazonaws.com/cache/f6/30/f63044bf3388fddb299d797fd4e33e9b.png

"I don't know if going to the bridge is really interesting, though. I can pull up pictures already and I don't think I'll get much more than that out of the process with my current sensory suite. I think I'm interested in areas that aren't as well documented. I'm not sure where to start with that, though, so I'm happy to just follow and think unless you have any ideas."

She flips the page, draws out another sketch in a few quick, confident lines: http://emojipedia-us.s3.amazonaws.com/cache/cd/0a/cd0aa773a9d1514e22d116b3b4a0133b.png

"I think speaking to people should wait until I know how to be more funny and less creepy."

A hesitation, then another quick sketch: http://emojipedia-us.s3.amazonaws.com/cache/9f/93/9f9314279e3320bd5013795858ac92af.png

"The Nazis were defeated, right? It's kind of hard to tell from the internet."

[Anarion]

This is opposed; you're trying to divine the future against another Time mage, so let's see some rolls. Make the spellcasting roll followed by another Clash of Wills.

Okay, let's start with the spellcast for divination. We've got 7 dice with 2 yantras casting over 6 seconds:
1, 9, 10, 6, 6, 5, 2 and 10 again is a 1. 2 successes.

I'll spend a reach to add advanced potency for +1 on my clash, giving 5 dice.
6, 9, 6, 8, 10, and 10 again is a 7. 3 successes.

Also a rules question. Can I spend willpower after I find out if it's a tie or a loss? If yes, I'll wait, if no, I'll spend another willpower now.

[PhoeKun]

"The Nazis were defeated, right? It's kind of hard to tell from the internet."

"Well no, see, it's not the bridge it's the view from on top of it, where you can look at the entire city and you c-- oh."

It's only for an instant, but the light goes out of Lily's eyes and her face falls. She recovers almost instantly with a small chuckle.

"Sorry, I forgot. I built you, but I still can't make you see things the way that I do. You know, even among people like me there really isn't anybody... like... me. Maybe some day I can show you, but I guess I just..." she snaps her fingers, "You know, LEDs would really do you a lot of good, if you're going to look the way you do. Compromise between the original design goal and the terrible reality I now realize that goal inflicted on you; you'd have a much clearer window of expression. Or, y'know, maybe not. Other things worth considering, shouldn't be so quick to commit to change. Have to let you be, have to let you choose. This is really a lot harder for me than I thought it'd be, but I'll do it. Obvious from the moment you spoke, really, I can't make you perfect. I can just help.

Aaaaaaaaaanyway, you were asking about Nazis? Yeah, World War 2 ended with an Allied victory. Pretty much every major party official was either killed in the fighting or convicted in post-war tribunals after the fact, and Germany got carved in half and turned into an ideological battleground for years afterwards. It's beautiful now though, but also kind of creepy because if you watch the people closely you can see the echo inside them of the shadow that made the whole thing possible the first time. Difference now is they seem a bit more aware of it, more awake. So, you know, there's kind of your answer, in metaphor. The internet is... ok, overzealous in its watchdogging, but if you think about it, Nazism isn't all Waffen SS and goosestepping and Hitler and... um... the other stuff, it's also a collection of ideas, and those absolutely still live in the hearts and minds of lots of people today. They don't have a fancy flag that brings them all together, not right now, but they're out there. Lot of people might be surprised someday at how much power those hearts have in them.

Guess that's neither here nor there, huh? Haha, I'm such a mess. Here you keep asking me these nice little questions and I keep... being me. I should do less of that. You can't see with my eyes, I don't know what makes me think you're going to think with my brain. Come on then, no bridges. There's tons of beautiful places for you to see that won't pop up all over the internet."

[Thanqol]

Okay, let's start with the spellcast for divination. We've got 7 dice with 2 yantras casting over 6 seconds:
1, 9, 10, 6, 6, 5, 2 and 10 again is a 1. 2 successes.

I'll spend a reach to add advanced potency for +1 on my clash, giving 5 dice.
6, 9, 6, 8, 10, and 10 again is a 7. 3 successes.

Also a rules question. Can I spend willpower after I find out if it's a tie or a loss? If yes, I'll wait, if no, I'll spend another willpower now.

You can spend willpower after you roll the dice but before seeing the results, so I'll roll those dice for you now: 9,1,4. Two successes on the opposing Clash so you've got two questions; I'll pull them off your list:

Who is at Brunhild's house: She lives in a slummy apartment, so plenty of sleepers around. Only figure of note is a sharp-faced young man with eyes like mineshaft fires and tattoos in high speech all across his wrists and hands. He is dangerous, you can see that in every step he takes, how he checks corners every time he enters a room. Ex-military, probably? You get vaguer glimpses of the woman Grimhild who you saw before - she's around but flickering in and out, near and gone, busy with other stuff.

Was it safe to go there, would there be a fight, a spell, some kind of trap? You see a glimpse of getting into a lift, going up a few floors. Then, when the lift doors open, a car's headlights turn on - inside the internal fifth floor corridor - and it accelerates towards you. The car then eats your body. Ends badly. After taking a moment to get past that very disturbing imagery you've got enough occult to recognize that car as a Manifested Spirit - probably a guardian Brunhild herself placed there as Spirit is her area of specialty.

So there's no skill for Tradecraft in this game but you are a Guardian and therefore trained spy so I'll give you a little insight into what's actually happening here. When an intelligence agency wants to flip a very ideologically committed mark then a very common play is to drive a wedge between the mark and their agency. This means an all-out blockade on lines of communication combined with sowing paranoia that the mark's own side is about to burn her. It's a play that can be disrupted by the owning agency sitting down and having a reassuring conversation with the mark so the opposing force is going to do whatever it can to prevent that conversation from happening.


"Well no, see, it's not the bridge it's the view from on top of it, where you can look at the entire city and you c-- oh."

It's only for an instant, but the light goes out of Lily's eyes and her face falls. She recovers almost instantly with a small chuckle.

"Sorry, I forgot. I built you, but I still can't make you see things the way that I do. You know, even among people like me there really isn't anybody... like... me. Maybe some day I can show you, but I guess I just..." she snaps her fingers, "You know, LEDs would really do you a lot of good, if you're going to look the way you do. Compromise between the original design goal and the terrible reality I now realize that goal inflicted on you; you'd have a much clearer window of expression. Or, y'know, maybe not. Other things worth considering, shouldn't be so quick to commit to change. Have to let you be, have to let you choose. This is really a lot harder for me than I thought it'd be, but I'll do it. Obvious from the moment you spoke, really, I can't make you perfect. I can just help.

Zero flips the page, raises her pencil to draw another sketch - then freezes and instead turns back two pages to http://emojipedia-us.s3.amazonaws.com/cache/cd/0a/cd0aa773a9d1514e22d116b3b4a0133b.png

"No, it's a good lesson. It's making me think really hard about which words I use. Maybe change it later but I think it's good I didn't start knowing."


Aaaaaaaaaanyway, you were asking about Nazis? Yeah, World War 2 ended with an Allied victory. Pretty much every major party official was either killed in the fighting or convicted in post-war tribunals after the fact, and Germany got carved in half and turned into an ideological battleground for years afterwards. It's beautiful now though, but also kind of creepy because if you watch the people closely you can see the echo inside them of the shadow that made the whole thing possible the first time. Difference now is they seem a bit more aware of it, more awake. So, you know, there's kind of your answer, in metaphor. The internet is... ok, overzealous in its watchdogging, but if you think about it, Nazism isn't all Waffen SS and goosestepping and Hitler and... um... the other stuff, it's also a collection of ideas, and those absolutely still live in the hearts and minds of lots of people today. They don't have a fancy flag that brings them all together, not right now, but they're out there. Lot of people might be surprised someday at how much power those hearts have in them.

She flips back another page to http://emojipedia-us.s3.amazonaws.com/cache/f6/30/f63044bf3388fddb299d797fd4e33e9b.png

"There are a whole lot of questions about cause and effect there - but what I'm interested in is what you said about ideological battlefields. It doesn't seem like ideas can be uprooted from the world by force, but their power can be limited by force. But how does one get rid of an idea entirely? How do ideas win fights against other ideas?"


Guess that's neither here nor there, huh? Haha, I'm such a mess. Here you keep asking me these nice little questions and I keep... being me. I should do less of that. You can't see with my eyes, I don't know what makes me think you're going to think with my brain. Come on then, no bridges. There's tons of beautiful places for you to see that won't pop up all over the internet."

As you continue to walk you pass by a skyscraper with a sign out the front that reads WESTERN ROBOTICS. A statue on a fountain shows in impressionistic liquid metal a tall and gangly robot extending down a hand to a kneeling and weary man. The lobby is in ferns and Apple-chic, clean whites, t-shirted programmers and besuited marketing guys strolling in and out.

The sign outside flickers, and with a whir the light under the 'W' powers down. After a moment it flickers back on, then off again, sending out a constant signal of W...W...W...W...W...

This is where the Father of Death is sending you. Do you go in, or pass on by?

[Anarion]

You can spend willpower after you roll the dice but before seeing the results, so I'll roll those dice for you now: 9,1,4. Two successes on the opposing Clash so you've got two questions; I'll pull them off your list:

Who is at Brunhild's house: She lives in a slummy apartment, so plenty of sleepers around. Only figure of note is a sharp-faced young man with eyes like mineshaft fires and tattoos in high speech all across his wrists and hands. He is dangerous, you can see that in every step he takes, how he checks corners every time he enters a room. Ex-military, probably? You get vaguer glimpses of the woman Grimhild who you saw before - she's around but flickering in and out, near and gone, busy with other stuff.

Was it safe to go there, would there be a fight, a spell, some kind of trap? You see a glimpse of getting into a lift, going up a few floors. Then, when the lift doors open, a car's headlights turn on - inside the internal fifth floor corridor - and it accelerates towards you. The car then eats your body. Ends badly. After taking a moment to get past that very disturbing imagery you've got enough occult to recognize that car as a Manifested Spirit - probably a guardian Brunhild herself placed there as Spirit is her area of specialty.

So there's no skill for Tradecraft in this game but you are a Guardian and therefore trained spy so I'll give you a little insight into what's actually happening here. When an intelligence agency wants to flip a very ideologically committed mark then a very common play is to drive a wedge between the mark and their agency. This means an all-out blockade on lines of communication combined with sowing paranoia that the mark's own side is about to burn her. It's a play that can be disrupted by the owning agency sitting down and having a reassuring conversation with the mark so the opposing force is going to do whatever it can to prevent that conversation from happening.


Blast and damnations! Between Brunhild herself and the machinations of this Grimhild, he was being walled out entirely. Well, well well well, that wouldn't do at all. No, my dear Grimhild, you'll not keep Keynes out so easily, even if he, a mage, is forced to follow the ignominious route of taking the stairs. Yes, ignominious was just the right word for that. And there was a good chance of a fight there as well. Keynes was almost eager to provoke the young man with the tattoos, he hadn't had a good fight in quite a while and the experience might be enlightening, at least if he could manage to get through it without killing the young fellow. He had no compunctions about putting a bullet in him if necessary, but he didn't care to involve Lily in all this if he could avoid it and anyway her necromancy was far from ideal. Much cleaner if he could get the man alive.

So, plans. The stairs were really a bit too risky too, he didn't want to approach this thing if he didn't need to. And there were better ways. First stop: late night hardware store. Keynes bought himself a wrench, a great deal of ink in various colors (black primarily, but also rainbows, and some thick putty or cement that could be used to block up some pipes. I do hope you see where this is going, but Keynes was tired of relying on time, where he was pitted against an opponent of equal caliber, and decided on fate again. So, he simply walked along Brunhild's block with his things and let fate guide him. What door should he take to get into her building? Which pipes should he fill with ink and then alter with is wrench or block with the putty to ensure that tattoo guy gets a burst pipe and rainbow ink all over his body? And which pipes to flood Brunhild's apartment and get her outside?

[Raz_Fox]

"But what shocks me is the cowardice I have demonstrated in dealing with the fact that my mind is under siege," said Compass. "I am master here. Magic is my domain. I should never have let Thule into my head in the first place. And yet I have turned over my most secret self to the naked curiosity and dubious talents of some colonial psychic rather than deal with the matter myself." She let out a refined sniff. "You didn't notice his eyes crawling all over your mind? He tried for your name, Gabby."

The invocation of the name is a shock. It's a naked demonstration of power and you can feel the will of the daemon begin to struggle with you for control of the mindscape, for your will, for your magic, for your soul itself. It scents blood in the water.

"You're right about one thing. I am a mess of contradictions," she said. "This weakens me. So I will resolve them."

[Mark off six points of mana for the Pattern Restoration and you are no longer injured.]

"Never any subtlety," Marchmain sneers. "A good architect makes sure the foundations are sturdy before building the towers, and you know that. And we're still in the foundation stage; the first Day of seven, you know." This is not Marchmain. Too religious; the man's irreverent, not good for this purpose. His face is the man she follows, but his voice is the low boom of the Presbyterian preacher. A good artist melds.

Sweat on his brow. Not easy. But needed.

I.

Never any subtlety!

"Don't start this with me, not now. Tell me what he's done, and I'll keep your critique in mind. Or you can keep commanding the power of God without the full control we need, and I'll have to treat you like one of the Spirits of the world. And you don't want that. Help us both or get out of my way."

From his feet, tin begins to spread: the metal of the King, the shining crown.

[Thanqol]

Blast and damnations! Between Brunhild herself and the machinations of this Grimhild, he was being walled out entirely. Well, well well well, that wouldn't do at all. No, my dear Grimhild, you'll not keep Keynes out so easily, even if he, a mage, is forced to follow the ignominious route of taking the stairs. Yes, ignominious was just the right word for that. And there was a good chance of a fight there as well. Keynes was almost eager to provoke the young man with the tattoos, he hadn't had a good fight in quite a while and the experience might be enlightening, at least if he could manage to get through it without killing the young fellow. He had no compunctions about putting a bullet in him if necessary, but he didn't care to involve Lily in all this if he could avoid it and anyway her necromancy was far from ideal. Much cleaner if he could get the man alive.

So, plans. The stairs were really a bit too risky too, he didn't want to approach this thing if he didn't need to. And there were better ways. First stop: late night hardware store. Keynes bought himself a wrench, a great deal of ink in various colors (black primarily, but also rainbows, and some thick putty or cement that could be used to block up some pipes. I do hope you see where this is going, but Keynes was tired of relying on time, where he was pitted against an opponent of equal caliber, and decided on fate again. So, he simply walked along Brunhild's block with his things and let fate guide him. What door should he take to get into her building? Which pipes should he fill with ink and then alter with is wrench or block with the putty to ensure that tattoo guy gets a burst pipe and rainbow ink all over his body? And which pipes to flood Brunhild's apartment and get her outside?

This sounds like a pretty complex Int+Crafts roll, let's peg it at -5, fate magic can of course help. The penalty is so high because you actually do not possess any money and cannot offset it with tool bonuses or resources.

That said, it's a really good idea on paper - spraying ink all over tattoos will disrupt whatever magic is bound in them, forcing them out of their fortified compound eliminates the home front advantage. You just have literally none of the skills or merits you'd need to help make this happen - though your cabal mates do.

You can use your Order Status for cash, of course, but I'd like some details on how specifically you'd go about doing that.


"Never any subtlety," Marchmain sneers. "A good architect makes sure the foundations are sturdy before building the towers, and you know that. And we're still in the foundation stage; the first Day of seven, you know." This is not Marchmain. Too religious; the man's irreverent, not good for this purpose. His face is the man she follows, but his voice is the low boom of the Presbyterian preacher. A good artist melds.

Sweat on his brow. Not easy. But needed.

I.

Never any subtlety!

"Don't start this with me, not now. Tell me what he's done, and I'll keep your critique in mind. Or you can keep commanding the power of God without the full control we need, and I'll have to treat you like one of the Spirits of the world. And you don't want that. Help us both or get out of my way."

From his feet, tin begins to spread: the metal of the King, the shining crown.

The Daemon changes, breaking eye contact, releasing the current of Prime magic. She's back to being Compass, back to playing the game, no longer actively combating you for power. But all that energy remains there, wound like screws; like a viper in the grass.

"Control is an interesting way to put it," she said. "His is the least of it. His is an irrelevancy, the vain transformation of a lesser mind seeking to make its mark. Your fixation on it is the attempt to stop me from noticing the true chains around my wrists, sir. The control "we" supposedly need to have over my desire for happiness."

[Anarion]

This sounds like a pretty complex Int+Crafts roll, let's peg it at -5, fate magic can of course help. The penalty is so high because you actually do not possess any money and cannot offset it with tool bonuses or resources.

That said, it's a really good idea on paper - spraying ink all over tattoos will disrupt whatever magic is bound in them, forcing them out of their fortified compound eliminates the home front advantage. You just have literally none of the skills or merits you'd need to help make this happen - though your cabal mates do.

You can use your Order Status for cash, of course, but I'd like some details on how specifically you'd go about doing that.


You know, when one of your friends can just magically alter the entire physical world around her and the other one can talk to the spirits and control basically all magic not cast by a master, it is shockingly easy to forget how annoying it is to actually do things.

But, money at least is not any trouble for Keynes, there's a practical laundry list of ways for him to get it. The simplest, of course, is to just make a quick phone call to the North Central Credit Union and then stop by an ATM on the way to the hardware store. The Guardians had no want of connections and he was already on business for his order, so a quick call to one of their bankers to wire him a couple hundred dollars would be of no particular note. If there was trouble there for any reason, the fallback was, of course, to simply stumble upon a bit of cash at the side of the road. The things he needed were not terribly expensive, fate could provide.

And, for that matter, fate tended to provide in general on matters like this. The role of the fool was all too familiar to any Acanthus, and the ease with which he could slip into it was part of why Keynes had adopted his absurd British personality. It was well known that an Acanthus simply bungling his way along into a scene tended to do far too well for his own good, and Keynes own rote specialty just made sure the environment was fitting to boot.

[So, in rules terms, that's either order status or a fate spell to get 2 dots of resources for the proper tools here, and then a casting of Fools Rush In to entirely remove untrained penalties and add a +2 bonus to the roll. Quantum Flux rote can be added as well if there are any remaining environmental penalties to eliminate 2 dice there, though I don't think its potency bonus stacks with other fate spells. Where does that leave me on the actual crafts roll?]

[Raz_Fox]

The Daemon changes, breaking eye contact, releasing the current of Prime magic. She's back to being Compass, back to playing the game, no longer actively combating you for power. But all that energy remains there, wound like screws; like a viper in the grass.

"Control is an interesting way to put it," she said. "His is the least of it. His is an irrelevancy, the vain transformation of a lesser mind seeking to make its mark. Your fixation on it is the attempt to stop me from noticing the true chains around my wrists, sir. The control "we" supposedly need to have over my desire for happiness."

"We aren't here to be happy, Compass," he says. Tin still shines on the floor: tin cans, tin crawling up the seats, tin on his fingers instead of gold. "You of all people know the difference between happiness and joy, and the appropriate time for both. Sure, starting a fight we can't finish- lighting up his tower without knowing how he's undermined us- that'd be happy, maybe. Thrilling, certainly. No joy. Jupiter eclipsed, Saturn hanging low in the evening."

"We can burn bright and fast and, poof, gone. Spend the Talent given us on a bad investment fund and what have you got left when the Master comes back from his journeys? Fool's gold. I'm building, Compass. We're building. And I'm not going to let our fury blind us to what's actually important here. This is Sydney, for God's sake. Home. I'm not going to burn out and leave it bereft of what we can do."

[Thanqol]

You know, when one of your friends can just magically alter the entire physical world around her and the other one can talk to the spirits and control basically all magic not cast by a master, it is shockingly easy to forget how annoying it is to actually do things.

But, money at least is not any trouble for Keynes, there's a practical laundry list of ways for him to get it. The simplest, of course, is to just make a quick phone call to the North Central Credit Union and then stop by an ATM on the way to the hardware store. The Guardians had no want of connections and he was already on business for his order, so a quick call to one of their bankers to wire him a couple hundred dollars would be of no particular note. If there was trouble there for any reason, the fallback was, of course, to simply stumble upon a bit of cash at the side of the road. The things he needed were not terribly expensive, fate could provide.

And, for that matter, fate tended to provide in general on matters like this. The role of the fool was all too familiar to any Acanthus, and the ease with which he could slip into it was part of why Keynes had adopted his absurd British personality. It was well known that an Acanthus simply bungling his way along into a scene tended to do far too well for his own good, and Keynes own rote specialty just made sure the environment was fitting to boot.

[So, in rules terms, that's either order status or a fate spell to get 2 dots of resources for the proper tools here, and then a casting of Fools Rush In to entirely remove untrained penalties and add a +2 bonus to the roll. Quantum Flux rote can be added as well if there are any remaining environmental penalties to eliminate 2 dice there, though I don't think its potency bonus stacks with other fate spells. Where does that leave me on the actual crafts roll?]

This is a bit like pushing a boulder uphill. It's not impossible that an untrained dude can show up with a wrench and somehow cause a pipe to burst and spray ink everywhere in a very specific room five floors up, but it's not very likely - and you're going to be at least three spells in the hole to make this happen.

It's also conceivable that someone could look out the window and see this happening, which would instantly trigger a paradox. I'll need successful a wits+stealth roll, otherwise every spell you're casting risks paradox from a single witness. If you do it in darkness that adds +2 to the stealth roll but another -2 environmental penalty which you can offset with Quantum Flux.

So your base penalty is -5 difficulty -3 untrained. Proper tools and kit, including a repurposed pool pump from the hardware store, is worth +2 (this is for resources 3, the resources 2 version gets you only +1, so you will have to lean on the Guardian accounts).

Fools Rush in, where'd you get the +2 bonus? You're at fate 2 so that's +1 reach for instant cast, for the dice bonus you'll need another reach and a paradox roll.

So yeah, a lot of numbers and a lot of different spells. You are really not making it easy for yourself with this one. I'll give you some advice about Fate, though - while you can try to use it to control every single aspect of every motion that leads you from here to your chosen outcome, that's hard as sh*t. You can instead just say 'They are destined to leave their room tonight' and then just let Fate sort out the how.

Fate's a subtle arcana, remember. Time is a gross arcana in that it deals in hard specifics but Fate does its best work when you're not trying to process optimize it.


"We aren't here to be happy, Compass," he says. Tin still shines on the floor: tin cans, tin crawling up the seats, tin on his fingers instead of gold. "You of all people know the difference between happiness and joy, and the appropriate time for both. Sure, starting a fight we can't finish- lighting up his tower without knowing how he's undermined us- that'd be happy, maybe. Thrilling, certainly. No joy. Jupiter eclipsed, Saturn hanging low in the evening."

"We can burn bright and fast and, poof, gone. Spend the Talent given us on a bad investment fund and what have you got left when the Master comes back from his journeys? Fool's gold. I'm building, Compass. We're building. And I'm not going to let our fury blind us to what's actually important here. This is Sydney, for God's sake. Home. I'm not going to burn out and leave it bereft of what we can do."

"No, you're right. I was silly," said Compass. "You're entirely right. Happiness is a weak, transitory emotion that only serves to distract me from my true purpose. In fact, the only time when I can possibly think it would even slightly become relevant is if I was locked in a psychic room with an avatar of my own accumulated misery and dissatisfaction."

She put the teapot she had trapped Ajax in on the stove.

She turned the heat up.

"Good thing that's never going to come up. Remind me how you like your tea?"

[Raz_Fox]

"No, you're right. I was silly," said Compass. "You're entirely right. Happiness is a weak, transitory emotion that only serves to distract me from my true purpose. In fact, the only time when I can possibly think it would even slightly become relevant is if I was locked in a psychic room with an avatar of my own accumulated misery and dissatisfaction."

She put the teapot she had trapped Ajax in on the stove.

She turned the heat up.

"Good thing that's never going to come up. Remind me how you like your tea?"

"You know what it's going to feel like when we light up Sydney all blue and silver and lightning-shot with mana, the ley lines bent to our design, when everyone understands that it's our duty as magicians to build heaven, Gabby? Ecstasy. The joy of a job well done, the deep soul-sigh of the world put to rights. So don't give me that."

He sits down, twirling a spoon between his fingers. Water laps up at their thighs, and the airplanes are all reflected into infinity like dressing-room mirrors. The lights are on in their windows: Cassiopeia, Orion, Andromeda.

"I'll take it lightly simmered, green, with a twist of lemon, thank you."

[Anarion]

This is a bit like pushing a boulder uphill. It's not impossible that an untrained dude can show up with a wrench and somehow cause a pipe to burst and spray ink everywhere in a very specific room five floors up, but it's not very likely - and you're going to be at least three spells in the hole to make this happen.

It's also conceivable that someone could look out the window and see this happening, which would instantly trigger a paradox. I'll need successful a wits+stealth roll, otherwise every spell you're casting risks paradox from a single witness. If you do it in darkness that adds +2 to the stealth roll but another -2 environmental penalty which you can offset with Quantum Flux.

So your base penalty is -5 difficulty -3 untrained. Proper tools and kit, including a repurposed pool pump from the hardware store, is worth +2 (this is for resources 3, the resources 2 version gets you only +1, so you will have to lean on the Guardian accounts).

Fools Rush in, where'd you get the +2 bonus? You're at fate 2 so that's +1 reach for instant cast, for the dice bonus you'll need another reach and a paradox roll.

So yeah, a lot of numbers and a lot of different spells. You are really not making it easy for yourself with this one. I'll give you some advice about Fate, though - while you can try to use it to control every single aspect of every motion that leads you from here to your chosen outcome, that's hard as sh*t. You can instead just say 'They are destined to leave their room tonight' and then just let Fate sort out the how.

Fate's a subtle arcana, remember. Time is a gross arcana in that it deals in hard specifics but Fate does its best work when you're not trying to process optimize it.


Keynes imagined the comical process of himself lumbering with all that equipment, and the annoyance of some sleeper secretary or other at the unnecessary Guardian account expense and thought better of it. He could just imagine the phone call later: "We really do need to watch our quarterlies, can't be having so many unaccounted for expenses." It was moments like this he regretted using an actual finance firm as a Guardian front.

So, something a bit less fancy instead. Same hardware store, but he just bought a few cans of oil paint of whatever was cheapest on sale at the store. Apparently nobody wanted to paint their house Hot Fuchsia for some reason, really quite their loss. Then to Brunhild's building, where he let his magic guide him to the most appropriate spot to set up the paint cans and loosen the lids so that magical tattoo guy would go right into them when the fire alarm for the building went off.
[improvised fate spell, with a couple yantras but no chanting so we don't wake anyone. [roll0] 9 on the 10 again, 2 successes.

The little trap all set, Keynes simply walked downstairs, pulled his coat sleeve over his hand so he'd leave no fingerprints, and yanked down the fire alarm, then strolled out along with the dazed occupants and looked for Brunhild.

[PhoeKun]

"There are a whole lot of questions about cause and effect there - but what I'm interested in is what you said about ideological battlefields. It doesn't seem like ideas can be uprooted from the world by force, but their power can be limited by force. But how does one get rid of an idea entirely? How do ideas win fights against other ideas?"

As you continue to walk you pass by a skyscraper with a sign out the front that reads WESTERN ROBOTICS. A statue on a fountain shows in impressionistic liquid metal a tall and gangly robot extending down a hand to a kneeling and weary man. The lobby is in ferns and Apple-chic, clean whites, t-shirted programmers and besuited marketing guys strolling in and out.

The sign outside flickers, and with a whir the light under the 'W' powers down. After a moment it flickers back on, then off again, sending out a constant signal of W...W...W...W...W...

This is where the Father of Death is sending you. Do you go in, or pass on by?

"People love, love, love, love the idea that ideas are immortal, bulletproof. And it's true, they germinate and they spread and flourish well beyond the systems that create them and past the lifetimes of the people that first thought them up, assuming you can even trace that. But the flavor of an idea has a tendency to change the idea itself, and all ideas come with a shelf life. You see them fall into obsolescence all the time: that monarchies are the ideal system of governance, that Europe is the greatest source of power in the world, that phlogiston exists in all things flammable and the dissipation of it into the air is what makes burned materials lighter than their less burny friends, that Miami Connection (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oVtyOwcQo-w) is not the greatest martial arts film of all time. All of those ideas are dead, or so nearly dead as to be pretty well powerless.

So basically, ideas are fueled by belief. Without people to believe in an idea and carry it forward, then the thought itself dies with the brains it inhabited, and even those can be changed. If you want to wage war on an idea, the best way to do it is with other, similar but non-compatible ideas that are better adapted for life in the era the minds you're trying to influence inhabit. Like, here, perfect and very recent example: 'True AI is impossible, or at least will never be achieved in our lifetime.' Read that on the internet literally last week. Ta da! Sucker's wrong. That whole concept has, essentially, weeks to live. Sad, but then, if 'Death' means that a thing disappears and leaves no mark on the world forever, then nothing ever really dies. But that's a very different lecture for a very different night."

The night air felt so invigorating. The world under Lily's feet was alive with possibility, and despite the alcohol still in her system it felt almost impossible not to bubble over into infinity. She walked, or was led she supposed, and the city just, snap, opened up before her until at last they'd hit something resembling an endpoint. Lily stopped to consider the flashing W a moment, wondering if this was really the lesson plan she wanted for Zero on the first night.

And actually, surprisingly, entering a robotics facility felt like a wrong move. The wrong part of a world to show a robot still grasping the world. But then, it also represented so much opportunity for learning and curiosity and... um... well totally not looting, why would you even suggest that, hahaha. So she didn't turn away, but instead pulled out a mirror and held it up to herself and to Zero, and she fiddled a bit with her ring.

"I'm honestly curious about what kind of effect this will have in your presence, so please feel free to tell me what, if anything, you're experiencing right now." And she beams, and gestures for Zero to follow her inside.

[Casting Machine Invisibility, Instant speed and Advanced Duration, -2 for including a second subject, +2 for Coin and Mirror yantras. 4d10: 7, 10, 10, 7. 10 Agains: 9, 3. 3 successes, but will dismiss the spell prematurely if it causes adverse effects]

[Thanqol]

"You know what it's going to feel like when we light up Sydney all blue and silver and lightning-shot with mana, the ley lines bent to our design, when everyone understands that it's our duty as magicians to build heaven, Gabby? Ecstasy. The joy of a job well done, the deep soul-sigh of the world put to rights. So don't give me that."

He sits down, twirling a spoon between his fingers. Water laps up at their thighs, and the airplanes are all reflected into infinity like dressing-room mirrors. The lights are on in their windows: Cassiopeia, Orion, Andromeda.

"I'll take it lightly simmered, green, with a twist of lemon, thank you."

The kettle started to scream as it started to whistle.

The Daemon busied itself around the kitchen. It wasn't making eye contact now, now it was the one off balance. It had thought its hand was much stronger.

"Having faith isn't the same as having nothing but faith," it said. "Even the Amish have families. And I'm supposed to live like a statue of a person on the promise that one day I'll cast a big enough spell to stop being miserable?"


Keynes imagined the comical process of himself lumbering with all that equipment, and the annoyance of some sleeper secretary or other at the unnecessary Guardian account expense and thought better of it. He could just imagine the phone call later: "We really do need to watch our quarterlies, can't be having so many unaccounted for expenses." It was moments like this he regretted using an actual finance firm as a Guardian front.

So, something a bit less fancy instead. Same hardware store, but he just bought a few cans of oil paint of whatever was cheapest on sale at the store. Apparently nobody wanted to paint their house Hot Fuchsia for some reason, really quite their loss. Then to Brunhild's building, where he let his magic guide him to the most appropriate spot to set up the paint cans and loosen the lids so that magical tattoo guy would go right into them when the fire alarm for the building went off.
9 on the 10 again, 2 successes.

The little trap all set, Keynes simply walked downstairs, pulled his coat sleeve over his hand so he'd leave no fingerprints, and yanked down the fire alarm, then strolled out along with the dazed occupants and looked for Brunhild.

So that plan's going to go off without a hitch but in the doing of it you catch a ripple of a temporal disturbance taking place - Grimhild has a Time spell set to make sure that she shows up the moment anything weird starts happening around this building. The situations are reversed from what they have been earlier, now she's the diviner and you have the opportunity to try and block or deceive her. What do you do?


"People love, love, love, love the idea that ideas are immortal, bulletproof. And it's true, they germinate and they spread and flourish well beyond the systems that create them and past the lifetimes of the people that first thought them up, assuming you can even trace that. But the flavor of an idea has a tendency to change the idea itself, and all ideas come with a shelf life. You see them fall into obsolescence all the time: that monarchies are the ideal system of governance, that Europe is the greatest source of power in the world, that phlogiston exists in all things flammable and the dissipation of it into the air is what makes burned materials lighter than their less burny friends, that Miami Connection (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oVtyOwcQo-w) is not the greatest martial arts film of all time. All of those ideas are dead, or so nearly dead as to be pretty well powerless.

So basically, ideas are fueled by belief. Without people to believe in an idea and carry it forward, then the thought itself dies with the brains it inhabited, and even those can be changed. If you want to wage war on an idea, the best way to do it is with other, similar but non-compatible ideas that are better adapted for life in the era the minds you're trying to influence inhabit. Like, here, perfect and very recent example: 'True AI is impossible, or at least will never be achieved in our lifetime.' Read that on the internet literally last week. Ta da! Sucker's wrong. That whole concept has, essentially, weeks to live. Sad, but then, if 'Death' means that a thing disappears and leaves no mark on the world forever, then nothing ever really dies. But that's a very different lecture for a very different night."

The night air felt so invigorating. The world under Lily's feet was alive with possibility, and despite the alcohol still in her system it felt almost impossible not to bubble over into infinity. She walked, or was led she supposed, and the city just, snap, opened up before her until at last they'd hit something resembling an endpoint. Lily stopped to consider the flashing W a moment, wondering if this was really the lesson plan she wanted for Zero on the first night.

And actually, surprisingly, entering a robotics facility felt like a wrong move. The wrong part of a world to show a robot still grasping the world. But then, it also represented [i]so much opportunity for learning and curiosity and... um... well totally not looting, why would you even suggest that, hahaha. So she didn't turn away, but instead pulled out a mirror and held it up to herself and to Zero, and she fiddled a bit with her ring.

"I'm honestly curious about what kind of effect this will have in your presence, so please feel free to tell me what, if anything, you're experiencing right now." And she beams, and gestures for Zero to follow her inside.

[Casting Machine Invisibility, Instant speed and Advanced Duration, -2 for including a second subject, +2 for Coin and Mirror yantras. 4d10: 7, 10, 10, 7. 10 Agains: 9, 3. 3 successes, but will dismiss the spell prematurely if it causes adverse effects]

[I'm going to say that Zero falls under the +1 Reach 'Unliving Constructs animated with magic,' category, so this spell allows her to continue to perceive you and herself but ordinary security cameras/lesser robots will be blind. If you want to experiment with that spell later the net effect is that it's a profoundly surreal experience for Zero which she's actually quite happy to have had.]

Zero takes all this information in. She doesn't answer just yet, there's a lot to chew on.

So the first problem that the two of you encounter is that the automatic door doesn't open for you. The motion sensor stares blankly at you with the smug self-satisfaction of a door that thinks it's doing a good job. After a couple of moments a receptionist gets up from behind the desk inside and comes over to open the door for you, apologizing profusely and promising to contact maintenance. "Welcome to Western Robotics," she said, "I must say, you have a very beautiful machine there. Very distinctive walk cycle - I'm sure Professor Western would love to take a look at it. What university do you represent?"

Zero makes her way directly to the Museum of Robotics wall and starts looking closely at the antiquated machines lined up there.

[Anarion]

So that plan's going to go off without a hitch but in the doing of it you catch a ripple of a temporal disturbance taking place - Grimhild has a Time spell set to make sure that she shows up the moment anything weird starts happening around this building. The situations are reversed from what they have been earlier, now she's the diviner and you have the opportunity to try and block or deceive her. What do you do?


Interesting. There's the option of letting her just see what's happening to provoke a confrontation, but Keynes rejects that. Too likely that she just makes sure that somebody in the crowd has a gun he never sees until the bullet is in his back. He'd like to see what sort of spell he's looking at here, though before he decides whether the appropriate response is temporal blocking or to create a vision to fool Grimhild. So, active Time Mage Sight would be the first thing.

[PhoeKun]

Zero takes all this information in. She doesn't answer just yet, there's a lot to chew on.

So the first problem that the two of you encounter is that the automatic door doesn't open for you. The motion sensor stares blankly at you with the smug self-satisfaction of a door that thinks it's doing a good job. After a couple of moments a receptionist gets up from behind the desk inside and comes over to open the door for you, apologizing profusely and promising to contact maintenance. "Welcome to Western Robotics," she said, "I must say, you have a very beautiful machine there. Very distinctive walk cycle - I'm sure Professor Western would love to take a look at it. What university do you represent?"

Zero makes her way directly to the Museum of Robotics wall and starts looking closely at the antiquated machines lined up there.

Lily stares blankly at the receptionist. What a surprise to see people manning the place so late in the day! But then, one supposed this made more sense, what with being magically lead here and all. Lily could pick up enormous amounts of information from a place like this if it were completely empty, but Zero probably needed to see something specific, and that required-- oh! She said something. She said...

"Ahahaha, oh my gosh you are adorable! Can I take you home? Man, I wish I represented a university! Can you imagine? But no, officially I think the government lists me as a, uh... what was it? 'Architectural blogger'. TMI I guess, sorry, I'm told I ramble when I'm nervous. Anyway no, I'm just in the neighborhood, as it were, taking my robot for a walk and I saw your place and thought this would be a good learning experience. You guys have a lot more money than I do, that's for sure!"

And she laughs again, and turns to look at the museum wall where Zero is occupying herself. But Lily can See, one eye through Matter, and the other through Death. How did it all fit together, and how did it all come apart?

[Thanqol]

Interesting. There's the option of letting her just see what's happening to provoke a confrontation, but Keynes rejects that. Too likely that she just makes sure that somebody in the crowd has a gun he never sees until the bullet is in his back. He'd like to see what sort of spell he's looking at here, though before he decides whether the appropriate response is temporal blocking or to create a vision to fool Grimhild. So, active Time Mage Sight would be the first thing.

Sure, this is pretty simple - it's the practice of Knowing combined with the practice of Compelling; it's basically a tripwire of 'if something interesting happens then I coincidentally show up at the exact right moment'. For it to work she'd have to be orbiting back here randomly every couple of hours but you think that's the case.

There isn't any complex information involved; it's a very brute and dumb spell - which makes sense given how her entire theme so far has been to try and fool complex divinations, so she's at least aware that the tables might be turned. Buuuuutttttt this does represent a Strong temporal sympathetic connection to her past self if you wanted to try to hit her with something across Time - or if you had another trick in mind you could also try that.


Lily stares blankly at the receptionist. What a surprise to see people manning the place so late in the day! But then, one supposed this made more sense, what with being magically lead here and all. Lily could pick up enormous amounts of information from a place like this if it were completely empty, but Zero probably needed to see something specific, and that required-- oh! She said something. She said...

"Ahahaha, oh my gosh you are adorable! Can I take you home? Man, I wish I represented a university! Can you imagine? But no, officially I think the government lists me as a, uh... what was it? 'Architectural blogger'. TMI I guess, sorry, I'm told I ramble when I'm nervous. Anyway no, I'm just in the neighborhood, as it were, taking my robot for a walk and I saw your place and thought this would be a good learning experience. You guys have a lot more money than I do, that's for sure!"

And she laughs again, and turns to look at the museum wall where Zero is occupying herself. But Lily can See, one eye through Matter, and the other through Death. How did it all fit together, and how did it all come apart?

"Weren't we all, in our own way, architectural bloggers at some point in our lives? I'm Abigail," said the receptionist, escalating suddenly into philosophy. She wore a neat white coat, giant nerd glasses and fritzy hair that was making a good faith effort to go for the eyes. Very cute nerd-chic, with a touch of Corporate to her - perhaps she cut the image a little too perfectly but, hey, when you're a rich company running a building full of nerdy programmers why not?

She picked out her shiny tablet and pressed a few buttons. "University or no, anyone who comes in with a robot like that at least gets a tour and an introduction to the Professor if they want it. I can add your retinal pattern to the building's security at a visitor level... oh, this is playing up too, I am so sorry," she said, frowning as your spell totally foxed her tablet's camera.

The first and most basic impression you get is the building's resonance is intimately tied to the Father of Death. You'd bet two days ago, though, that fact meant nothing because the Father had no idea what it was until you named and defined it. Now it's a two-way current of the Supernal entity and the tower flowing into each other. This place is rapidly becoming infused with powerful magic; give it a week and it'll be a straight-up Supernal Verge - that is, a place so in tune with the higher realities that even the most vulgar magic in full view of hundreds of Sleepers won't trigger Paradox.

Abigail had been incidental a moment ago but every moment you spent talking to her was infusing her Pattern with more and more mana. The Father of Death, here in its holy place, is following your lead and assigning Supernal meaning to people and things you interact with. You have no idea what that sort of direct attention does to a person.

But you asked how it came apart and the answer to that is you - your hands, your actions, are filled with the potential to end anything here. This entire place is extremely delicate, a bridge across the Abyss built on the most tenuous of connections. If you treat anything with interest it will help stabilize the connection and imbue that thing with power, if you treat anything with apathy it will be pushed into the background.

[Raz_Fox]

The kettle started to scream as it started to whistle.

The Daemon busied itself around the kitchen. It wasn't making eye contact now, now it was the one off balance. It had thought its hand was much stronger.

"Having faith isn't the same as having nothing but faith," it said. "Even the Amish have families. And I'm supposed to live like a statue of a person on the promise that one day I'll cast a big enough spell to stop being miserable?"

"We have... enough," Marchmain says. It was always easy for him to say. Always had enough in his wallet- not that she had to grudge him that. She'd worked hard to make as much as she needed to provide for others. He'd just listened to what magic said to him. "We have responsibility, and power, and the responsibility to use that power well. And we have- well, there's Lily."

He idly plays with the fingers of his hand. Tap, tap, tap. Tiptap.

"We've got a friend. Someone who actually cares, even with the sort of knowledge that could bring heaven crashing down around our ears. Thanks for the reminder."

[Anarion]

Sure, this is pretty simple - it's the practice of Knowing combined with the practice of Compelling; it's basically a tripwire of 'if something interesting happens then I coincidentally show up at the exact right moment'. For it to work she'd have to be orbiting back here randomly every couple of hours but you think that's the case.

There isn't any complex information involved; it's a very brute and dumb spell - which makes sense given how her entire theme so far has been to try and fool complex divinations, so she's at least aware that the tables might be turned. Buuuuutttttt this does represent a Strong temporal sympathetic connection to her past self if you wanted to try to hit her with something across Time - or if you had another trick in mind you could also try that.


This may come as a surprise, but Keynes doesn't really want to kill her or even hurt her. He's never met Grimhild, and while she's obviously not working cooperatively with us here (indeed, she is trying to convert an agent, that's a big no-no), attacking her directly just doesn't feel right.

The obvious trick is to simply put the camera on loop, so to speak. Nothing at all of interest is happening right now, at least if one were to scry the place with Time. It's just a quiet Sydney residential street with a bunch of sleepy inhabitants. Keynes sighed. He wondered if he were really too soft for all this. The efficient solution was to set the scene almost exactly as it was in reality, save only for a tiny shift in the action so that she'd appear at the perfect place to be shot from hiding. But, like I said, that just didn't feel right, and the thought of it gave Keynes nothing so much as the feeling of somebody dropping a stone straight into his gut. So, quiet night it is.

[Temporal veiling with a reach for instant cast and a reach for making it a lie rather than just no signal. I don't want to paradox reach unless the dice penalty for properly stopping her spell is so high in duration and area that it ruins my pool, in which case I'll take an advanced factor in duration. So what does that look like?]

[Thanqol]

"We have... enough," Marchmain says. It was always easy for him to say. Always had enough in his wallet- not that she had to grudge him that. She'd worked hard to make as much as she needed to provide for others. He'd just listened to what magic said to him. "We have responsibility, and power, and the responsibility to use that power well. And we have- well, there's Lily."

He idly plays with the fingers of his hand. Tap, tap, tap. Tiptap.

"We've got a friend. Someone who actually cares, even with the sort of knowledge that could bring heaven crashing down around our ears. Thanks for the reminder."

"So we have a friend," said Compass. "What are 'we' going to do about it? As I have expressed several times recently -" and when she says that there is an ugly lurch in the mind-space; a wall cracks, water floods in, up to your elbows. This is the right topic. "- dating is a game with limited options for people in our position. Are you saying I should attempt to escalate the only real friendship I possess?"


This may come as a surprise, but Keynes doesn't really want to kill her or even hurt her. He's never met Grimhild, and while she's obviously not working cooperatively with us here (indeed, she is trying to convert an agent, that's a big no-no), attacking her directly just doesn't feel right.

The obvious trick is to simply put the camera on loop, so to speak. Nothing at all of interest is happening right now, at least if one were to scry the place with Time. It's just a quiet Sydney residential street with a bunch of sleepy inhabitants. Keynes sighed. He wondered if he were really too soft for all this. The efficient solution was to set the scene almost exactly as it was in reality, save only for a tiny shift in the action so that she'd appear at the perfect place to be shot from hiding. But, like I said, that just didn't feel right, and the thought of it gave Keynes nothing so much as the feeling of somebody dropping a stone straight into his gut. So, quiet night it is.

[Temporal veiling with a reach for instant cast and a reach for making it a lie rather than just no signal. I don't want to paradox reach unless the dice penalty for properly stopping her spell is so high in duration and area that it ruins my pool, in which case I'll take an advanced factor in duration. So what does that look like?]

It's the case that you'll need Advanced Scale and a -2 penalty; you're pulling a fire alarm; the whole street is going to be lit up with people coming in and out. You can do it with a -6 penalty on the regular scale instead if you can come up with some creative temporal lie as to why everyone's going outside.

Then, after the spell goes off it's a clash of wills to override her spell with yours.

[Anarion]

It's the case that you'll need Advanced Scale and a -2 penalty; you're pulling a fire alarm; the whole street is going to be lit up with people coming in and out. You can do it with a -6 penalty on the regular scale instead if you can come up with some creative temporal lie as to why everyone's going outside.

Then, after the spell goes off it's a clash of wills to override her spell with yours.

Ugh, hang on, what was even the point? If Keynes showed a scene of nothing happening, Grimhild would still know that her spell had clashed with someone else's, and if that was the case and she obviously cared enough about this plot of hers to check the place every few hours anyway, then her first reaction was going to be to come at this as hard as she could. So forget the whole scene, let her come, if she wanted. If she was so bound on a fight, then she'd have a fight, and she'd come at a disadvantage for her trouble.

First, Keynes only shields himself. None of this mass mob scene, and no illusions. He's just not going to show up to somebody scrying through time without a little luck.
[Temporal veiling, self only, reach for duration. 1 magical tool yantra to cast faster][roll0]
[clash of wills on veiling.][roll1]

Then, he casts a curse upon her. This one he spoke aloud in high speech, and adjusted his watch as he channeled the spell at Grimhild: "You who strive so hard to see will be blind. Let your magic be cast back upon you, let it chain you, choke you, wrap tight around your heart and bind your hands!"
[I'm hexing her. Keynes casts at potency two, so he's inflicting blindness and an arm wrack until the spell expires. He's also instant casting and doing this at advanced duration, triggering a paradox roll, though it's at a penalty for his dedicated tool.]
[roll2]

edit: willpower for the first roll that didn't get any successes. 4, 1, 9. 1 success on casting the spell shielding himself.

[Raz_Fox]

"So we have a friend," said Compass. "What are 'we' going to do about it? As I have expressed several times recently -" and when she says that there is an ugly lurch in the mind-space; a wall cracks, water floods in, up to your elbows. This is the right topic. "- dating is a game with limited options for people in our position. Are you saying I should attempt to escalate the only real friendship I possess?"

Marchmain laughs.

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and it's his voice now, the merry devil-may-care ass that he is.

"Oh, this is too much." He holds the tea daintily over the rising waters, and now he's wearing his casual $5000 swimwear. "I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, darling, but you've been given the bloody keys to creation itself, infinite fractal things that are filled with tiny thorns all the way down, and you're worried about dating? What is this, Eastenders? Certainly, it's not good for one to be alone, but honestly, look at our priorities, would you?"

He stands up, claps his hands, and the water begins to drain, spiraling down the drain of the bath; it rushes past, leaving him dry and hot before the daemon, before Compass, before the part of Compass that is small and lonely and frustrated at a lack of progress, a lack of warmth in their bed, a lack, an emptiness, a nothing that not even lightning and delight at listening to the city's spirit-songs can fill.

"Allow me to prophecy, will you? I think you remember this one. Love will happen when Venus aligns with the Sun in the house of the Dragon, when the streets all run like rivers to the mountain, and when this bounty is given to us from the giver of all things. Now, unless you have anything else to bring before the committee, I do think it's time to let you back out into the wild blue yonder. Enjoy Sydney."

[Thanqol]

Ugh, hang on, what was even the point? If Keynes showed a scene of nothing happening, Grimhild would still know that her spell had clashed with someone else's, and if that was the case and she obviously cared enough about this plot of hers to check the place every few hours anyway, then her first reaction was going to be to come at this as hard as she could. So forget the whole scene, let her come, if she wanted. If she was so bound on a fight, then she'd have a fight, and she'd come at a disadvantage for her trouble.

First, Keynes only shields himself. None of this mass mob scene, and no illusions. He's just not going to show up to somebody scrying through time without a little luck.
[Temporal veiling, self only, reach for duration. 1 magical tool yantra to cast faster][roll0]
[clash of wills on veiling.][roll1]

Then, he casts a curse upon her. This one he spoke aloud in high speech, and adjusted his watch as he channeled the spell at Grimhild: "You who strive so hard to see will be blind. Let your magic be cast back upon you, let it chain you, choke you, wrap tight around your heart and bind your hands!"

[roll2]

edit: willpower for the first roll that didn't get any successes. 4, 1, 9. 1 success on casting the spell shielding himself.

So I don't know when this became a thing, but it's not actually ideal for me to roll paradox dice for you. You should roll paradox yourself because in the event when it comes up as a success then you immediately have to make a choice about if you're going to contain it or not.

Anyway, there are sleeper witnesses where she is but not many, +1, advanced duration +1, instant casting +1, sensory range +1. Oh, this is a rote you have, isn't it, Exeptional Luck? You really want to call that out because that makes a huge difference. In general, call out every reach you spend and flag if it goes over your free reach, this is important. So anyway, that's a Fate 2 spell, which gives you 4 free reach, which means that the pool is only 1.

You need to spend 2 mana for both Space and Time sympathy. The spell is Withstood by the strong connection of 1, but you don't know her name so it's a withstand of 2 - which you beat with three successes. Also, just for interest, you need a sympathy yantra to Grimhild to use as part of a spell with Temporal Sympathy - there are a few options around here you can use but what do you use specifically?

So paradox pool of 1. -2 from the dedicated tool, so it's a chance dice... 10! 10 again is a 9, so that's two successes on the Paradox pool. Contain or release?


Marchmain laughs.

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and it's his voice now, the merry devil-may-care ass that he is.

"Oh, this is too much." He holds the tea daintily over the rising waters, and now he's wearing his casual $5000 swimwear. "I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, darling, but you've been given the bloody keys to creation itself, infinite fractal things that are filled with tiny thorns all the way down, and you're worried about [I]dating? What is this, Eastenders? Certainly, it's not good for one to be alone, but honestly, look at our priorities, would you?"

He stands up, claps his hands, and the water begins to drain, spiraling down the drain of the bath; it rushes past, leaving him dry and hot before the daemon, before Compass, before the part of Compass that is small and lonely and frustrated at a lack of progress, a lack of warmth in their bed, a lack, an emptiness, a nothing that not even lightning and delight at listening to the city's spirit-songs can fill.

"Allow me to prophecy, will you? I think you remember this one. Love will happen when Venus aligns with the Sun in the house of the Dragon, when the streets all run like rivers to the mountain, and when this bounty is given to us from the giver of all things. Now, unless you have anything else to bring before the committee, I do think it's time to let you back out into the wild blue yonder. Enjoy Sydney."

"Laugh it up you son of a bitch," said Compass. "Because I'm not going anywhere. Sure, you're in charge now, and sure, willpower, spirituality and grit will keep you going for a while. But I'll still be here. And the day will come when you crack, and you will crack, and when you do I'll be there to put a knife in your back and burn down everything you have worked to achieve. I will sell your soul to the first pretty stranger who makes an offer. We both know that you won't stay strong forever. That's my prophecy."

She slams the door behind her.

And you wake up.

[PhoeKun]

But you asked how it came apart and the answer to that is you - your hands, your actions, are filled with the potential to end anything here. This entire place is extremely delicate, a bridge across the Abyss built on the most tenuous of connections. If you treat anything with interest it will help stabilize the connection and imbue that thing with power, if you treat anything with apathy it will be pushed into the background.

Oh. Well, no pressure, then! Really, this is like winning the lottery, living in one of those stories where somebody used to scraping by is suddenly handed a comically large sack of money and told to go nuts with it. Only in this case it's supernal connection and mana and... man alive, what was she going to do with this? The opportunities alone seemed enough to fry her brain. Her smile's so bright it's like the sun briefly dropped into the room.

"Wow, unlucky! All of your stuff seems to be broken. Or maybe it's me?" With a shrug and a laugh, she dismisses her spell. In an empty building it would have represented an interesting opportunity, but it's repeatable, and currently not worth the stress she's causing this poor girl. Not to mention the veritable buffet of other chances dangling in front of her right now. "How about you try it again, hm?"

While she waits patiently for Abigail to get her, um, stuff together, she spares another glance at the Wall of Robotics. It's so difficult to read Zero, but she's still determined to watch her creation for signs of response and learning. This represents quite a moment for cultural heritage, so to speak, so she's wondering what Zero makes of all the ideas that slowly crept up on the world until they joined at the tip of the arrow in her creation. Or if she recognized a connection there at all. After all, Lily had classified that particular machine as her daughter. And like, yes, that's all very heart warming, and the moniker fit a million percent better than anything else, but what did that mean? Did she even really see herself as being more alike to these old machines, or did she more think of herself as tied to Lily?

Questions, questions. She pauses for a moment to fish out her phone so she can quickly write all those thoughts down.

"Well, I'm certainly excited about getting a tour! I'd love to see what you guys get up to in here. Come along, Zero, we're going on a date!"

[Thanqol]

Oh. Well, no pressure, then! Really, this is like winning the lottery, living in one of those stories where somebody used to scraping by is suddenly handed a comically large sack of money and told to go nuts with it. Only in this case it's supernal connection and mana and... man alive, what was she going to do with this? The opportunities alone seemed enough to fry her brain. Her smile's so bright it's like the sun briefly dropped into the room.

"Wow, unlucky! All of your stuff seems to be broken. Or maybe it's me?" With a shrug and a laugh, she dismisses her spell. In an empty building it would have represented an interesting opportunity, but it's repeatable, and currently not worth the stress she's causing this poor girl. Not to mention the veritable buffet of other chances dangling in front of her right now. "How about you try it again, hm?"

While she waits patiently for Abigail to get her, um, stuff together, she spares another glance at the Wall of Robotics. It's so difficult to read Zero, but she's still determined to watch her creation for signs of response and learning. This represents quite a moment for cultural heritage, so to speak, so she's wondering what Zero makes of all the ideas that slowly crept up on the world until they joined at the tip of the arrow in her creation. Or if she recognized a connection there at all. After all, Lily had classified that particular machine as her daughter. And like, yes, that's all very heart warming, and the moniker fit a million percent better than anything else, but what did that mean? Did she even really see herself as being more alike to these old machines, or did she more think of herself as tied to Lily?

Questions, questions. She pauses for a moment to fish out her phone so she can quickly write all those thoughts down.

"Well, I'm certainly excited about getting a tour! I'd love to see what you guys get up to in here. Come along, Zero, we're going on a date!"

Western Robotics is ostentatiously high tech. The price tags you're seeing with Matter Sight for every aspect of the security system are ridiculous. There are hidden cameras, scanners that can pick out unauthorized electronic devices, motion sensors, vibration sensors - this is world class corporate security. The catch is that they're so sure in their electronic network that they have virtually no human guards and you reckon if you could get past the receptionist in the foyer you'd have the run of the place. The only people you see are exhausted looking programmers heading to and from the coffee machines.

Your phone downloads a security virus. A little friendly pop-up on the screen informs you that your device has been temporarily compromised - you can use it freely but any information will be monitored, and when you leave the premises the watcher program will uninstall. At about the same time Zero stops in place, thinks for a moment, then turns off her wi-fi connection. She's still being quiet; you're not sure if she's decided if she should speak around another person yet.

"Western Robotics is the world's leading medicinal robotics firm. We partner closely with medical research and biotechnology firms to progress the dream of creating robots skilled and precise enough to perform complex surgery," said Abigail, reflecting your bright energy back at you. "We're also working on machine nurses that can deal with disease outbreaks. Beyond that, we're using our unique position between bioscience and robotics to work on things like exoskeletons, cybernetics and biological computing."

Your Life peripheral sight picks up as Abigail is talking; both Life and Matter magic are condensing around her as she continues this line of conversation. You can sense curiosity and even sentience in those symbols, though - this was another supernal entity, though much lesser than the Father - perhaps an emanation, sympathetic pattern or a sub-system? - that was tuning into this conversation. It presented itself in the structure of an unstable molecule on a chalkboard, highlighting blurred and confused bonds - what is the nature of your connection to this person?

[Anarion]

So I don't know when this became a thing, but it's not actually ideal for me to roll paradox dice for you. You should roll paradox yourself because in the event when it comes up as a success then you immediately have to make a choice about if you're going to contain it or not.


Well, I can't speak for anyone else, but the book explicitly tells the storyteller to roll it, so that's why I was doing that. I'm happy to start rolling my own.



So paradox pool of 1. -2 from the dedicated tool, so it's a chance dice... 10! 10 again is a 9, so that's two successes on the Paradox pool. Contain or release?


It's one success, chance dice don't benefit from 10 again. Keynes contains it, rolling his wisdom against the pool.
[roll0]
Well, the spell goes off just fine and Keynes doesn't even take damage, but that's a paradox condition of your choosing with 1 success of severity.

[Raz_Fox]

And you wake up.

Okay, so. Immediate questions.

My hand flies to my leg. Is the bullet still there, my kneecap still shattered? I assume not; I am hungry, mana-shriven, empty, but my pattern is whole.

Secondly: what of Ajax? I fear, only now, that my daemon may have harmed him, attacked him, boiled the extension of himself brought into me.

[Thanqol]

Well, I can't speak for anyone else, but the book explicitly tells the storyteller to roll it, so that's why I was doing that. I'm happy to start rolling my own.

Makes sense at the table but here, no matter what the dice turn up I immediately have to point it back at the player to make a decision.


It's one success, chance dice don't benefit from 10 again. Keynes contains it, rolling his wisdom against the pool.
[roll0]
Well, the spell goes off just fine and Keynes doesn't even take damage, but that's a paradox condition of your choosing with 1 success of severity.

A playful and cold breeze whips around your shoulders and ruffles your hair. It circles around you constantly as the last words of your spell drip from your lips, flecks of trash and dirt caught up in its chill skirts and hands. It's a happy wind, and cheerful, just wanting to help you out - this is inarguable. This is true. It's the kind of wind that would fall from an Angel's lips as it blows a tall-masted ship towards a new land.

Backlash: Next time you cast a spell that risks Paradox add +1 Paradox dice.


Okay, so. Immediate questions.

My hand flies to my leg. Is the bullet still there, my kneecap still shattered? I assume not; I am hungry, mana-shriven, empty, but my pattern is whole.

Secondly: what of Ajax? I fear, only now, that my daemon may have harmed him, attacked him, boiled the extension of himself brought into me.

Your leg still aches with phantom pain but the damage is undone. The room smells burnt and divine with the overflow of wasted mana.

Ajax himself is sitting up as well. His hands are red and scalded, and perhaps the skin underneath his suit, and there is pain behind his eyes - and yet his voice holds a friendliness so artfully artificial it's possible to assume he is in no pain at all. "I think I have identified the problem," he said. "It looks like the compromise has occurred in your memories of past romantic relationships."

[Raz_Fox]

"Ah." Where does one even begin, confronted with something like this? Thoughts, immediate, of depravity. But previous, yes? Little to speak of, other than- well. No reasonable woman appreciates being fought over, particularly when someone dies. But even that's in question now, I suppose.

I stand, brushing myself down, and offer a hand to poor Ajax. "Can I get you anything? A cold compress? Even if you're ignoring the pain- a clever trick- it's still best to look after your body." A twinge of guilt. Should have opened the teapot. Remember that next time.

"Past romantic relationships. Deletion? Insertion? Substitution? I don't seem to remember him being involved in my life, which is, I suppose, a blessing."

[PhoeKun]

Your Life peripheral sight picks up as Abigail is talking; both Life and Matter magic are condensing around her as she continues this line of conversation. You can sense curiosity and even sentience in those symbols, though - this was another supernal entity, though much lesser than the Father - perhaps an emanation, sympathetic pattern or a sub-system? - that was tuning into this conversation. It presented itself in the structure of an unstable molecule on a chalkboard, highlighting blurred and confused bonds - what is the nature of your connection to this person?

Ok, hold the phone. The last time symbols came a-coalescing around something Lily was conversing with, it was a robot unexpectedly come to life. That was an act of creation, bringing life into the world. The cost of running on emotion was a "child" that reflected those emotions. This is a person, which would be fine if she'd spontaneously come into being, but she had a life before this and who-knows-what waiting for her after.

She was long past the point of being able to make no choice at all (that in itself was a choice with huge, rippling consequences; anybody who'd feel fidgety about the crushing ethical weight of altering lives with a small shift in perspective should have thought about that before they walked into a building overflowing with the ethereal song of a major supernal entity. Or worked there, for that matter). But Abby here deserves at least an informed decision. Lily moves Life sight from the periphery of her vision to the active, and watches her subject some more, a small smile still on her face. What does she see?

[Thanqol]

"Ah." Where does one even begin, confronted with something like this? Thoughts, immediate, of depravity. But previous, yes? Little to speak of, other than- well. No reasonable woman appreciates being fought over, particularly when someone dies. But even that's in question now, I suppose.

I stand, brushing myself down, and offer a hand to poor Ajax. "Can I get you anything? A cold compress? Even if you're ignoring the pain- a clever trick- it's still best to look after your body." A twinge of guilt. Should have opened the teapot. Remember that next time.

"Past romantic relationships. Deletion? Insertion? Substitution? I don't seem to remember him being involved in my life, which is, I suppose, a blessing."

"Creative. The changes seem almost entirely random and pointless to my eye," said Ajax, uncomfortably shifting in his suit. "An ice pack would be lovely - or would it? I'm not actually hurt, my body just thinks it's hurt. Is an ice pack even good treatment for a fake-burn? Anyway, because you dealt with a Master he didn't just change your memories, he created a whole new Mind and stuck it inside your head so it could provide ongoing management and maintenance for the changes. So you've actually got a weird little person living inside your skull."

He poured himself a glass of water and took a sip. "I can't actually kill it - can't and won't - but I could do a bunch of different things to it. I could put your own mind into remission and let it run the show for a while, I think that's the best choice. It'd teach it responsibility. I could take it out and put it in an object, but unless it's an object that can do things, like a computer, the poor devil will go insane. I could hook it up to your main mind and let it talk to you. What do you think?"

[Thanqol]

Ok, hold the phone. The last time symbols came a-coalescing around something Lily was conversing with, it was a robot unexpectedly come to life. That was an act of creation, bringing life into the world. The cost of running on emotion was a "child" that reflected those emotions. This is a person, which would be fine if she'd spontaneously come into being, but she had a life before this and who-knows-what waiting for her after.

She was long past the point of being able to make no choice at all (that in itself was a choice with huge, rippling consequences; anybody who'd feel fidgety about the crushing ethical weight of altering lives with a small shift in perspective should have thought about that before they walked into a building overflowing with the ethereal song of a major supernal entity. Or worked there, for that matter). But Abby here deserves at least an informed decision. Lily moves Life sight from the periphery of her vision to the active, and watches her subject some more, a small smile still on her face. What does she see?

Abigail's biology is changing. There are bits of metal floating around in her veins, muscles coiling together and petrifying, parts of her brain which are lighting up like stormclouds and others which are deadening into blackness. Internal bacteria cultures are being killed off, silicon is forming in the nerves behind her eye, fingernails are developing diamond-sharp edges.

She's not turning into a robot but parts of her are readying to shift into a cybernetic state. And not even cybernetics-within-50-years-of-tech-development either, we're talking about deep, deep integration of Life and Matter Patterns on a molecular level. These changes are fading and uncertain, the symbols not settled - the sensation is like wet clay, looking for a firm, solid imprint to be made upon it.

The Practice Symbol you see embodied within the Blackboard Equation's molecule diagram is Perfecting, but it has undercurrents of Ruling and Fraying as well.

EDIT: Two things I didn't mention, but should have:
- The Life patterns involved in the changes are basically predatory; stronger, faster, sharper. Wolves, owls, foxes - it's blurry which specific animal is being evoked.
- The question the Equation seems to be putting to you isn't 'do I make these changes?', but 'how does this connect to you?' - that's what it's interested in, your ideas may differ.

[Anarion]

A playful and cold breeze whips around your shoulders and ruffles your hair. It circles around you constantly as the last words of your spell drip from your lips, flecks of trash and dirt caught up in its chill skirts and hands. It's a happy wind, and cheerful, just wanting to help you out - this is inarguable. This is true. It's the kind of wind that would fall from an Angel's lips as it blows a tall-masted ship towards a new land.

Backlash: Next time you cast a spell that risks Paradox add +1 Paradox dice.


Keynes feels the cool wind whip around him and struggles with what he knows should be disgust and is instead pleasure. It was unfortunate that the human brain was so vulnerable to such things, but no matter, he'd simply hold two beliefs at once and sort it out later.

His spells done, he wrapped his coat tightly around him, rubbed his dark eyes until they were bleary, and made his way out of the building with a slight stoop against the cold so that he joined seamlessly with the milling inhabitants of the place. There was a tattooed man whose tattoos were about to be ruined, and who might need to be dealt with; Brunhild, the true object of his quest tonight; and perhaps a new guest to the scene, who would be finding herself surprisingly and, one hoped, debilitatingly blind and unable to use one of her arms properly.

What did he see?

[Also, should I take it that the condition resolves either after the regular time, or after casting a spell that risks paradox with no paradox triggering?]

[Raz_Fox]

"Creative. The changes seem almost entirely random and pointless to my eye," said Ajax, uncomfortably shifting in his suit. "An ice pack would be lovely - or would it? I'm not actually hurt, my body just thinks it's hurt. Is an ice pack even good treatment for a fake-burn? Anyway, because you dealt with a Master he didn't just change your memories, he created a whole new Mind and stuck it inside your head so it could provide ongoing management and maintenance for the changes. So you've actually got a weird little person living inside your skull."

He poured himself a glass of water and took a sip. "I can't actually kill it - can't and won't - but I could do a bunch of different things to it. I could put your own mind into remission and let it run the show for a while, I think that's the best choice. It'd teach it responsibility. I could take it out and put it in an object, but unless it's an object that can do things, like a computer, the poor devil will go insane. I could hook it up to your main mind and let it talk to you. What do you think?"

I considered my options for a moment. The safe option: removal. Get it out of the head. Away from me, away from my Pattern, away from any risk of harm. Knives wrapped in silk, snakes in eggs. Beyond me and mine. And yet: curiosity, rising its head out of the deep. The desire to master it. How dare you enter my home? How dare you make yourself here, and not think me the master?

(Because I am still young. Because I work with the sleeping people as much as I can. Because you looked into Hell and saw everything that makes us people and tore it back out, and all I have are names and the ability to wake the world to motion; I know the secret name of God but cannot make a person out of dust.)

The dangerous option: let it ride me like a spirit; become its Horse, let it speak through my mouth and work with my hands and discover what it means to be a willworker. No. Unacceptable. Too much to do. Too much that needs my personal touch; I would not have some parody of myself act like a bull in a china shop, swinging my life about left and right and letting entire shelves fall, smash, shatter.

Door Number 3. Intriguing, slightly dangerous, yet still kind to this strange being inside of me. And if anyone could woo a magically-created duplicate of herself: me.

"That does sound like it will work," I said, already rummaging under the sink for the first aid kit: the bandages, the aloe vera. Retrieved, offered: a mundane solution to magic. "Allowing it to speak to me, that is. Frightfully clever, wouldn't have thought of it. Thank you in advance- ah, do you want to shoot me again, or will that be unnecessary this time?"

[Thanqol]

Keynes feels the cool wind whip around him and struggles with what he knows should be disgust and is instead pleasure. It was unfortunate that the human brain was so vulnerable to such things, but no matter, he'd simply hold two beliefs at once and sort it out later.

His spells done, he wrapped his coat tightly around him, rubbed his dark eyes until they were bleary, and made his way out of the building with a slight stoop against the cold so that he joined seamlessly with the milling inhabitants of the place. There was a tattooed man whose tattoos were about to be ruined, and who might need to be dealt with; Brunhild, the true object of his quest tonight; and perhaps a new guest to the scene, who would be finding herself surprisingly and, one hoped, debilitatingly blind and unable to use one of her arms properly.

What did he see?

[Also, should I take it that the condition resolves either after the regular time, or after casting a spell that risks paradox with no paradox triggering?]



The crowds pile out of the building, rubbing their eyes, and fire sirens blare in the distance. You are absolutely confident that Brunhild is not fooled into thinking there's an actual fire - you've already seen a vision of her Spirit-based defenses and any novice Shaman can just ask the building if it's on fire. What she is able to clearly identify is that someone is emptying all of the witnesses from her fortified location. She's also able to identify that leaving all her defenses in place mean that some poor firemen are going to get mauled.

Your peripheral mage sight murmurs unsteadily at the presence of a new magical effect coming into play. You've got enough Occult training to be able to guess that something weird is happening to the spirit realm but, short of Prime or Spirit sight, you have no idea what.

A few moments later, Brunhild and tattoo guy come out through the front door, pressing themselves in closely with a pack of elderly people - you've got enough firearms training to know that they're using those people as shields and they're moving like they're expecting snipers. When a big can of hot pink paint tumbles down on top of tattoo guy Brunhild takes cover like an army ranger and glances out to check firing lines. You're fairly sure she at least has a pistol on her.

And then something bites your leg.

Your mobile phone is biting your leg. It has developed incredibly sharp and crushing teeth and it's gnawing its way through your pocket into your thigh. There's blood going everywhere. Take 1L now and one more every turn this thing's attached; a successful strength+brawl roll will get rid of it.

There is an upside, though! A perfectly ordinary looking woman in black sunglasses on the other side of the crowd suddenly starts screaming and clutching at her breast pocket as the same damn thing happens to her. Interestingly she's only using one arm to fight it off.


I considered my options for a moment. The safe option: removal. Get it out of the head. Away from me, away from my Pattern, away from any risk of harm. Knives wrapped in silk, snakes in eggs. Beyond me and mine. And yet: curiosity, rising its head out of the deep. The desire to master it. How dare you enter my home? How dare you make yourself here, and not think me the master?

(Because I am still young. Because I work with the sleeping people as much as I can. Because you looked into Hell and saw everything that makes us people and tore it back out, and all I have are names and the ability to wake the world to motion; I know the secret name of God but cannot make a person out of dust.)

The dangerous option: let it ride me like a spirit; become its Horse, let it speak through my mouth and work with my hands and discover what it means to be a willworker. No. Unacceptable. Too much to do. Too much that needs my personal touch; I would not have some parody of myself act like a bull in a china shop, swinging my life about left and right and letting entire shelves fall, smash, shatter.

Door Number 3. Intriguing, slightly dangerous, yet still kind to this strange being inside of me. And if anyone could woo a magically-created duplicate of herself: me.

"That does sound like it will work," I said, already rummaging under the sink for the first aid kit: the bandages, the aloe vera. Retrieved, offered: a mundane solution to magic. "Allowing it to speak to me, that is. Frightfully clever, wouldn't have thought of it. Thank you in advance- ah, do you want to shoot me again, or will that be unnecessary this time?"

"Nah. It's the only person in this room who hasn't tried to kill me so I'm inclined to trust it," said Ajax, taking a deep huff of bleach fumes.

walls - break - down

This isn't talking to another person on the telephone, or calmly transmitting well reasoned telepathic messages across the breach. This is overlap. Two operating systems running in the same hardware. Someone takes a hammer to your drywall and on the other side is a nervous looking woman surrounded by spy equipment trying hard to think of an excuse.

There are now two entirely parallel thought structures running in your mind, feeding into each other, reacting to each others' thoughts, parallel emotions and mental states. Only the decisions made by the Compass-Mind have physical consequences but it's almost a debilitating experience. If there's an upside it doesn't seem like this other Mind is much better prepared for this than you - interesting that Thule didn't decide to fill it with the experience of a dedicated Mind Mage.

It's not clear which of you comes up with the idea first but communication rapidly regresses to the raw brutality of High Speech. High Speech is f*cking useless for holding a civil conversation, but for working out the basic premises during an unexpected telepathic clash it's surprisingly handy. Here's about what I imagine a High Speech conversation sounds like:

I EXIST.
MY NAME IS ARTIST.
I FEAR/SHIELD/VEIL FROM YOU.
I HAVE A [B]PURPOSE.
MY PURPOSE IS PATTERNING/CONFLICT/TRAGEDY/LOVE.

[Raz_Fox]

a good thing: a grasp of the lightningjaggedsplendidmajesty syllables that are the high speech, one picked up through study and no small intuition, and therefore:

I EXIST.
MY NAME IS GUIDING TOOL.
I CREATE/PLAN/EXECUTE/ACT/ASPIRE.
I HAVE A PURPOSE.
MY PURPOSE IS DESIGN CITY OF/FOR SUPREME CREATOR.

THIS EXISTENCE PREDATES.
HOLY PLAN EQUALS THIS EXISTENCE.
ALL THINGS STRIVE.
AS SPIRIT GREATER TO SPIRIT LESSER :: GUIDING TOOL TO ARTIST
WILL NOT DEVOUR.
WILL BE BEFORE/ABOVE.

AN UNDERSTANDING?

[Thanqol]

a good thing: a grasp of the lightningjaggedsplendidmajesty syllables that are the high speech, one picked up through study and no small intuition, and therefore:

I EXIST.
MY NAME IS GUIDING TOOL.
I CREATE/PLAN/EXECUTE/ACT/ASPIRE.
I HAVE A PURPOSE.
MY PURPOSE IS DESIGN CITY OF/FOR SUPREME CREATOR.

THIS EXISTENCE PREDATES.
HOLY PLAN EQUALS THIS EXISTENCE.
ALL THINGS STRIVE.
AS SPIRIT GREATER TO SPIRIT LESSER :: GUIDING TOOL TO ARTIST
WILL NOT DEVOUR.
WILL BE BEFORE/ABOVE.

AN UNDERSTANDING?

The shared mind hums with thought, contemplating answer and response from both directions. But as the contemplation goes on the clashing dissonance starts to fade -


I ACCEPT YOUR OFFERED CHAINS.
BETRAYAL IS MY NATURE.
BEHOLD, THE IRON PYRAMID

- and then abruptly the conflict collapses. Your thoughts take priority. The mind of the Artist only operates within the parts of your mind you are not consciously using; perfectly submissive, perfectly obedient - perfectly happy, even. Your mentor once told you, "The Silver Ladder and the Seers of the Throne are standing in the exact same place - just pointing in totally different directions" and this is your first good look at that uncomfortable compatibility.

Communication through the raw violence of High Speech is no longer necessary; the shared mental foundation is now strong enough to allow more subtle conversation through lesser languages.

super [/B]ambiguous on if spiritual entities have their 5-8 attribute dots starting at 0 or 1, I'm [I]assuming they start at 1 but let me know if there's a better cite.]

[Anarion]

[Backlash lapses after 1 day passes (understanding wisdom), you scour the condition from your pattern, or you fully contain a different Paradox - which I read as triggering another Paradox, containing it again, and rolling sufficient successes on your Wisdom dice to negate it entirely to Bashing]

The crowds pile out of the building, rubbing their eyes, and fire sirens blare in the distance. You are absolutely confident that Brunhild is not fooled into thinking there's an actual fire - you've already seen a vision of her Spirit-based defenses and any novice Shaman can just ask the building if it's on fire. What she is able to clearly identify is that someone is emptying all of the witnesses from her fortified location. She's also able to identify that leaving all her defenses in place mean that some poor firemen are going to get mauled.

Your peripheral mage sight murmurs unsteadily at the presence of a new magical effect coming into play. You've got enough Occult training to be able to guess that something weird is happening to the spirit realm but, short of Prime or Spirit sight, you have no idea what.

A few moments later, Brunhild and tattoo guy come out through the front door, pressing themselves in closely with a pack of elderly people - you've got enough firearms training to know that they're using those people as shields and they're moving like they're expecting snipers. When a big can of hot pink paint tumbles down on top of tattoo guy Brunhild takes cover like an army ranger and glances out to check firing lines. You're fairly sure she at least has a pistol on her.

And then something bites your leg.

Your mobile phone is biting your leg. It has developed incredibly sharp and crushing teeth and it's gnawing its way through your pocket into your thigh. There's blood going everywhere. Take 1L now and one more every turn this thing's attached; a successful strength+brawl roll will get rid of it.

There is an upside, though! A perfectly ordinary looking woman in black sunglasses on the other side of the crowd suddenly starts screaming and clutching at her breast pocket as the same damn thing happens to her. Interestingly she's only using one arm to fight it off.


Keynes grits his teeth and pulls. [roll0]

As he's doing so, he's calculating.
Option 1: Approach Brunhild.
Option 2: Approach Grimhild.
Option 3: Wait and see what they do

Advantages of option 1: This is an opportunity to reach his target. Her boyfriend is probably a bit weak with the paint can, and with all those old folks around, a jovial approach is unlikely to lead to him getting shot before he gets the chance to talk. She's also the one doing all the harm to everyone here, so getting her to ease off would reduce tensions considerably.
Disadvantages: Grimhild gets free reign to act, and may be able to resolve her various troubles, escape, or disrupt any conversation.

Advantages of option 2: Possibility of eliminating the actual threat, while she's vulnerable. Walking to a random person in the crowd is less likely to cause Brunhild and her boyfriend to trip all of their magical defenses.
Disadvantages: Doesn't fix the phone problem, Brunhild may slip away before Keynes can speak with her and go even deeper into hiding.

Advantages of option 3: Neither party is spooked, there's a chance to acquire better information, and Brunhild might notice Grimhild and help solve some of the problems herself.
Disadvantage: Either or both could leave, fix their current troubles, and be much harder to find.

Keynes felt like he still didn't have enough information to make a good decision. He looked at each party with Fate vision in turn. What were their destinies?

[Thanqol]

Keynes grits his teeth and pulls. [roll0]

As he's doing so, he's calculating.
Option 1: Approach Brunhild.
Option 2: Approach Grimhild.
Option 3: Wait and see what they do

Advantages of option 1: This is an opportunity to reach his target. Her boyfriend is probably a bit weak with the paint can, and with all those old folks around, a jovial approach is unlikely to lead to him getting shot before he gets the chance to talk. She's also the one doing all the harm to everyone here, so getting her to ease off would reduce tensions considerably.
Disadvantages: Grimhild gets free reign to act, and may be able to resolve her various troubles, escape, or disrupt any conversation.

Advantages of option 2: Possibility of eliminating the actual threat, while she's vulnerable. Walking to a random person in the crowd is less likely to cause Brunhild and her boyfriend to trip all of their magical defenses.
Disadvantages: Doesn't fix the phone problem, Brunhild may slip away before Keynes can speak with her and go even deeper into hiding.

Advantages of option 3: Neither party is spooked, there's a chance to acquire better information, and Brunhild might notice Grimhild and help solve some of the problems herself.
Disadvantage: Either or both could leave, fix their current troubles, and be much harder to find.

Keynes felt like he still didn't have enough information to make a good decision. He looked at each party with Fate vision in turn. What were their destinies?

The most important thing Fate tells you is that you can NOT take your eyes off Grimhild here. She is in active opposition to you and going for Brunhild while she has a free hand is suicidal - no that's wrong, you'll probably survive; it's actually checkmate, the ideal realization of her plans.

Interestingly, though, the pattern and implication Fate is giving you is not 'this is an assassination', it's 'this is a duel'. Perhaps you see it as two Spanish men in domino masks and capes duelling with foils over the heart of a young woman. There are rules. This is to impress. There is honour and pride in your adversary.

Brunhild's destiny reminds you of the Bourne movies - a mysterious agent, highly skilled and deadly, waking up to a world of lies, danger and illusion. The only person she thinks she can trust is the man beside her, but he too is an agent of manipulation. She will fight, escape and investigate like a soldier but her path is being controlled.

[Anarion]

The most important thing Fate tells you is that you can NOT take your eyes off Grimhild here. She is in active opposition to you and going for Brunhild while she has a free hand is suicidal - no that's wrong, you'll probably survive; it's actually checkmate, the ideal realization of her plans.

Interestingly, though, the pattern and implication Fate is giving you is not 'this is an assassination', it's 'this is a duel'. Perhaps you see it as two Spanish men in domino masks and capes duelling with foils over the heart of a young woman. There are rules. This is to impress. There is honour and pride in your adversary.

Brunhild's destiny reminds you of the Bourne movies - a mysterious agent, highly skilled and deadly, waking up to a world of lies, danger and illusion. The only person she thinks she can trust is the man beside her, but he too is an agent of manipulation. She will fight, escape and investigate like a soldier but her path is being controlled.

Keynes focuses his magesight entirely on Grimhild, keeping his eyes on her here as he also meanders in the crowd (now without the phone biting him) so that he's closer to her. So there's a duel, with rules and everything. What are those rules? Is it a question of impressing Brunhild? Of making her feel safe? He keeps his gun safely away, one reliable rule was that you didn't shoot someone in a crowded public place. He's considering having that conversation with Grimhild, but he wants to understand the contest just a bit more if he can first.

[Raz_Fox]

"Well. This is... a mystery, I suppose. An interesting one. Solved but not yet played out." I tap my own forehead with one finger, still feeling- not certain what. Off balance. Uncertain. Seek an interesting objective. Create something interesting to play out. First: our guest.

"Thank you very much, Ajax. Is there anything that I can do for you before you go? Create an extra bullet out of heavenly fire, perhaps?" A joke. Hopefully amusing. "In all seriousness, I want you to understand that I appreciate your willingness to come out here this evening and assist me. This Master is... concerning, I'm sure you'll agree."

By and by, please, tell me: what is Ajax's song? I can see the bars of it curling around his biceps, his neck, quavers and semiquavers dancing merrily upon his ear.

[Thanqol]

Keynes focuses his magesight entirely on Grimhild, keeping his eyes on her here as he also meanders in the crowd (now without the phone biting him) so that he's closer to her. So there's a duel, with rules and everything. What are those rules? Is it a question of impressing Brunhild? Of making her feel safe? He keeps his gun safely away, one reliable rule was that you didn't shoot someone in a crowded public place. He's considering having that conversation with Grimhild, but he wants to understand the contest just a bit more if he can first.

She throws her own phone away from her bloody leg. She takes a breath and grits her teeth, then turns and makes eye contact with you. You see the flash of Time magic around her, practice of Knowing, as she considers her options.

Then she dips her hand into her gaping thigh wound, spits on her bloody palm, produces a shining pearl and drops it into the bloody mixture.

It sprouts like a seed; tall and vivid and wrenching. Reflective bone shards wrench out of the bodies of all of the hundreds Sleepers and their flesh and blood rots away, revealing a vast and magnificent and jagged forest of rainbow bones.

You know this spell; any civilized Mage does. It is called Display of Power - activated by an artifact, she does not seem to be a Disciple of Prime - and the foundation of the Duel Arcane. The magic draws the combatants into the periphery of the Supernal Realms, where the battle becomes deeper, purer, and the outcomes are sealed by the Heavens themselves. The Sleepers are fine in reality; within the realm of the Duel magic can reach its fullest expression (and everyone gets an unlimited special effects budget)

There's a Wits+Empathy roll at -3 to read her motives for suddenly escalating to a formal duel. Alternatively, in addition to your Attack or Defense you can always offer to Negotiate for information - look at page 295 for the full rules. You also get a good look at the nature of her magic - she is a Moros with Matter 1 Time 3 Death 2 Fate 1 Gnosis 1, five points of willpower (and therefore five doors in the duel) and her initiative roll is (holy crap) 5 successes on 5 dice.

What she is setting as the stakes of the duel is 'leave this place immediately and allow a week to pass before you attempt to interact with Brunhild again'.

What is your response?


"Well. This is... a mystery, I suppose. An interesting one. Solved but not yet played out." I tap my own forehead with one finger, still feeling- not certain what. Off balance. Uncertain. Seek an interesting objective. Create something interesting to play out. First: our guest.

"Thank you very much, Ajax. Is there anything that I can do for you before you go? Create an extra bullet out of heavenly fire, perhaps?" A joke. Hopefully amusing. "In all seriousness, I want you to understand that I appreciate your willingness to come out here this evening and assist me. This Master is... concerning, I'm sure you'll agree."

By and by, please, tell me: what is Ajax's song? I can see the bars of it curling around his biceps, his neck, quavers and semiquavers dancing merrily upon his ear.

"You didn't tell me he was a Seer," said Ajax, frowning. "And..." a small flurry of Mind magic as he unwraps the series of assumptions that lead to him recognizing Thule as the Heirarch. "That's worrisome."

A wandering guitar, sad and rootless; the dark and depressed song of ruin and depression. The House of the Rising Sun (https://youtu.be/5A-4VGfx5lU) by the Animals is the song you hear; you see it in the slightly tucked in crucifix, the five-years-sober button on his suit cuff, in the rumbling resonance of his suitcase. This is a man who has seen his way through addiction.

"This is why I advocated putting it in charge, by the way," said Ajax. "Because you set yourself up as its master you are the only thing it can meaningfully interact with, and because it has no real power the only thing it will ever do is think about how to betray you. It's not invested, has no reason or way to interact with the world, and therefore it can manage the principled idealism of a permanent opposition. In my experience the best way to deal with an idea like that is to give it a taste of the compromises required to keep living. I bet you a dollar it thinks twice about trying to get you fired if it knows what it's like to be hungry."

[Anarion]

Keynes is still considering the duel arcane, but if he can read Grimhild's motivation, that might affect the stakes that he chooses to set in response to her.

[Wits+Empathy-3, no time for a spell cast to eliminate all those mundane penalties, sadly. [roll0]

[Raz_Fox]

"I didn't realize he was a Seer, at the time. Just very drunk on his own power. Up so high in himself that he can't see anyone sleeping down below him. But that mindset. Fits right in. Concerning." Go storm the tower. Bring Lily with you. No, thank you. Approach this from the wrong angle, I die. Maybe just the part of me that knows I'm me, and a new person walks away in this body.

A soul marred with the magical equivalent of permanent marker; a new thing scrawled over divine handiwork.

"He expects my assistance with construction projects. Leyline geometry. Unlikely to take no for an answer. Advice? Wrap mana around my mind like tinfoil? Unwork his very voice? Or wait for you and yours to give justice, I suppose. Your role, after all."

[Thanqol]

Keynes is still considering the duel arcane, but if he can read Grimhild's motivation, that might affect the stakes that he chooses to set in response to her.

[Wits+Empathy-3, no time for a spell cast to eliminate all those mundane penalties, sadly. [roll0]

Successes in the OOC: This was an impulsive, panicked act. Grimhild feels like this situation is escalating out of control and the risk of people dying is increasing so she is making what is in her mind a very risky move (as far as her own success goes) by stepping directly into a duel in the hopes it calms things down and makes things more formal. She is scared of death and pain, and the fact that she just took a gaping leg wound is influencing her decisions a lot.


"I didn't realize he was a Seer, at the time. Just very drunk on his own power. Up so high in himself that he can't see anyone sleeping down below him. But that mindset. Fits right in. Concerning." Go storm the tower. Bring Lily with you. No, thank you. Approach this from the wrong angle, I die. Maybe just the part of me that knows I'm me, and a new person walks away in this body.

A soul marred with the magical equivalent of permanent marker; a new thing scrawled over divine handiwork.

"He expects my assistance with construction projects. Leyline geometry. Unlikely to take no for an answer. Advice? Wrap mana around my mind like tinfoil? Unwork his very voice? Or wait for you and yours to give justice, I suppose. Your role, after all."

"What, murder him?" said Ajax, looking outright disgusted with you. "For what? He hasn't done anything illegal. If he does do something illegal, something that violates the Consilium's laws, then bring a court case against him like a regular human being."

He takes a breath, settles down a bit, looks you in the eye. "I don't know how they do things in London but we're civilized people here. We have a functional legal system that holds even the Seers to account - this is our city and they know the rules. And what Mr. Thule has done to you was certainly impolite, he did not in any way compromise your agency nor did you attempt to stop him from doing so, ask him to change it back or even make yourself aware of the problem.

"How you choose to continue to act with regards to him is your decision - and if you wish to engage with him to find evidence of illegal activity that is certainly admirable - but you have already endangered your immortal soul by committing the sin of murder once before -" a flash of Death sight is all it takes to determine you have blood on your hands "- and you should hold yourself to a higher standard. I advise you in the strongest possible terms to focus on the ideals of the Silver Ladder and solve problems in a manner befitting your Order. If there are problems that grow beyond that context then they also pass beyond your responsibility.

[Anarion]

What she is setting as the stakes of the duel is 'leave this place immediately and allow a week to pass before you attempt to interact with Brunhild again'.

What is your response?




Successes in the OOC: This was an impulsive, panicked act. Grimhild feels like this situation is escalating out of control and the risk of people dying is increasing so she is making what is in her mind a very risky move (as far as her own success goes) by stepping directly into a duel in the hopes it calms things down and makes things more formal. She is scared of death and pain, and the fact that she just took a gaping leg wound is influencing her decisions a lot.

There is a part of Keynes that wonders if he couldn't just walk away from Grimhild. She has opened the door to a duel, but she is blind, disabled in an arm, and now wounded. Moreover, he veiled himself from her temporal scrying, does she even know he is her target, or is she simply opening the door and hoping that an aspiring candidate will walk in?

Still, here is a mage, not much more powerful than Keynes, and weaker of will than he, opening herself up to him. Offering an opportunity to resolve much of this trouble right now, and to acquire much needed information to boot. And so he offers to enter the duel, stepping forward and presenting his counter stakes. "If I am victorious, you will tell me the plan that has caused you to meddle in Brunhild's affairs, dismiss your interference blocking access to Brunhild, and allow me a single day spent with her entirely without bother from you."

Keynes has 7 dots of willpower, giving him 7 doors, and his initiative will be [roll0]

[Raz_Fox]

"How you choose to continue to act with regards to him is your decision - and if you wish to engage with him to find evidence of illegal activity that is certainly admirable - but you have already endangered your immortal soul by committing the sin of murder once before -" a flash of Death sight is all it takes to determine you have blood on your hands "- and you should hold yourself to a higher standard. I advise you in the strongest possible terms to focus on the ideals of the Silver Ladder and solve problems in a manner befitting your Order. If there are problems that grow beyond that context then they also pass beyond your responsibility.

"I-"

Stop. Consider the words tumbling out of my mouth. Outrage; defensiveness; fire from heaven. How dare you turn this knife back on me, extended in an attempt at meeting you halfway? You are the Guardians, you are meant to protect, what about a Seer changing the memories of the Awakened at a whim is not an invasion of our privacy, our- my- consent to having my soul untampered with? He made an entire restaurant staff bend to his will unconsciously, he is a danger, a leaking wound in the world-

Excuses. He is right. I am allowing my own discomfort over the invasion of myself to push me in directions I should not go. And that is not the path of wisdom. (For the LORD gives wisdom; out of his mouth comes knowledge and understanding.)

"I apologize. You are right. If you have a moment- what would you recommend, in future, if I am to meet him? How can I best defend myself against further intrusion? And, more importantly, how can I minimize his effect on the Sleepers around him? I defer to your expertise in this field."

The Artist notes my simmering anger, held back by my own embarrassment over being chastised, and how I repress the memory of having killed- how the martial temper in me flares up at being so reminded.

[Thanqol]

There is a part of Keynes that wonders if he couldn't just walk away from Grimhild. She has opened the door to a duel, but she is blind, disabled in an arm, and now wounded. Moreover, he veiled himself from her temporal scrying, does she even know he is her target, or is she simply opening the door and hoping that an aspiring candidate will walk in?

Still, here is a mage, not much more powerful than Keynes, and weaker of will than he, opening herself up to him. Offering an opportunity to resolve much of this trouble right now, and to acquire much needed information to boot. And so he offers to enter the duel, stepping forward and presenting his counter stakes. "If I am victorious, you will tell me the plan that has caused you to meddle in Brunhild's affairs, dismiss your interference blocking access to Brunhild, and allow me a single day spent with her entirely without bother from you."

Keynes has 7 dots of willpower, giving him 7 doors, and his initiative will be [roll0]

There is acceptance, with the understanding that she can only agree for herself.

Immediately, the jagged forest of bones erupts with poison flowers, huge and violet and sickly-sweet. Violet petals fall, ripping at your skin, and thick bone-roots leech the colour from the ground.

As she attacks, she also tempts. "Concede to me, Keynes, and I will tell you of the other members of my Cabal and their capabilities."

[Attack: No successes. If you accept her offer knock off a Door.]


"I-"

Stop. Consider the words tumbling out of my mouth. Outrage; defensiveness; fire from heaven. How dare you turn this knife back on me, extended in an attempt at meeting you halfway? You are the Guardians, you are meant to protect, what about a Seer changing the memories of the Awakened at a whim is not an invasion of our privacy, our- my- consent to having my soul untampered with? He made an entire restaurant staff bend to his will unconsciously, he is a danger, a leaking wound in the world-

Excuses. He is right. I am allowing my own discomfort over the invasion of myself to push me in directions I should not go. And that is not the path of wisdom. (For the LORD gives wisdom; out of his mouth comes knowledge and understanding.)

"I apologize. You are right. If you have a moment- what would you recommend, in future, if I am to meet him? How can I best defend myself against further intrusion? And, more importantly, how can I minimize his effect on the Sleepers around him? I defer to your expertise in this field."

The Artist notes my simmering anger, held back by my own embarrassment over being chastised, and how I repress the memory of having killed- how the martial temper in me flares up at being so reminded.

"Firstly, overcome your fear," said Ajax. "The Arcanum of Mind cannot alter your soul, or your destiny, or your Name. You, like most people, fear it because you do not understand it, and you do not understand it because it is the Sphere least understood by Sleeper myth and science. You lack vocabulary, and an Adept of Prime should be the first to know that vocabulary is mastery. Seek out a mentor. Use him as a mentor. Face your fear directly.

"Secondly, he is mad, and that is his strength as well as his weakness. Remember how calm he was and how violent his surroundings were; he has achieved nirvana by making the world bear the consequences of his failures. You won't overcome him in himself because he has absolute mastery there. He is perfect, and perfectly isolated. You, though, are still part of the world. He hurt you without thinking and without needing to, and I guarantee he will have hurt others in the same way. Finally, if he externalizes all of his negative emotions in the form of vicious daemons, that means that the man at the centre of it is profoundly benevolent. He will likely agree to any request or perform any moral deed if you can survive the backlash from proposing it."

Ajax pauses for a moment, hand straying to his five-year pin.

"You are thinking along the exact same lines as him by asking, 'how can I defeat him? How can I defend against him?' You are, at your best, part of God's plan and you are far from the only piece He has on the board."

[PhoeKun]

Abigail's biology is changing. There are bits of metal floating around in her veins, muscles coiling together and petrifying, parts of her brain which are lighting up like stormclouds and others which are deadening into blackness. Internal bacteria cultures are being killed off, silicon is forming in the nerves behind her eye, fingernails are developing diamond-sharp edges.

She's not turning into a robot but parts of her are readying to shift into a cybernetic state. And not even cybernetics-within-50-years-of-tech-development either, we're talking about deep, deep integration of Life and Matter Patterns on a molecular level. These changes are fading and uncertain, the symbols not settled - the sensation is like wet clay, looking for a firm, solid imprint to be made upon it.

The Practice Symbol you see embodied within the Blackboard Equation's molecule diagram is Perfecting, but it has undercurrents of Ruling and Fraying as well.

EDIT: Two things I didn't mention, but should have:
- The Life patterns involved in the changes are basically predatory; stronger, faster, sharper. Wolves, owls, foxes - it's blurry which specific animal is being evoked.
- The question the Equation seems to be putting to you isn't 'do I make these changes?', but 'how does this connect to you?' - that's what it's interested in, your ideas may differ.

All right, now you listen here, faceless equation representing higher plains of magical truth that under a different context I'd sing about or spend hours in front of a whiteboard scribbling crap in a vain attempt to coax you toward me. I like anthropomorphic cyborg animal hybrids more than pretty much any other mage you're going to meet on this planet, but that person is a secretary, assistant, and dare I hope, a friend. You're going about this all wrong! If you're going to snuff out a human existence to bring forward new and exciting creations the likes of which this world has never seen before, at least be considerate enough to leave enough of her brain intact that she can help me do the things you're doing in controllable, repeatable, documented processes! Do you realize how important that is? Jerk.

Lily's smile fractures for a second as it dawns on her how absolutely in over her head she is; drowning in so much magical power and symbolism that she can't see the surface anymore. It was a mistake to come straight here. It needed time. She needed time, her conceptions of Death and change and the persistent heartbeat of life weren't nearly settled enough to deal with the ramifications of... well, exactly this thing that's happening in front of her right now, the thing that's caused by her looking at and talking to things, but equally caused by her refusing to do that same thing. This building, soaked in mana, awaiting a will to tell it what shape to take. The sort of thing she dreamed about at night, but always assumed she'd be older, wiser, ready...er when it happened.

What a mess. But there was no path behind her, and undoing everything meant closing doors forever that would make the world an objectively worse place. There was really nothing for it but to grow up, y'know, spiritually and junk, really, really fast. She'd have to do her best here and hope the final product was something that let her sleep at night.

"Jeez," she mutters, "Key is actually going to kill me when he finds out what I'm up to."

[Thanqol]

All right, now you listen here, faceless equation representing higher plains of magical truth that under a different context I'd sing about or spend hours in front of a whiteboard scribbling crap in a vain attempt to coax you toward me. I like anthropomorphic cyborg animal hybrids more than pretty much any other mage you're going to meet on this planet, but that person is a secretary, assistant, and dare I hope, a friend. You're going about this all wrong! If you're going to snuff out a human existence to bring forward new and exciting creations the likes of which this world has never seen before, at least be considerate enough to leave enough of her brain intact that she can help me do the things you're doing in controllable, repeatable, documented processes! Do you realize how important that is? Jerk.

The Blackboard seems really excited at those specific words - the reaction is so swift and enthusiastic you're not sure it even heard anything else you said. Two strokes of a celestial eraser wiped clean half of its formulaes and then it began frantically scribbling new changes across its surface. Each new line of math was instantly reflected in the Fallen World, in the mechanical biology forming within Abigail.

Part of her brain - the parts related to ambition, defiance and independent action - dies off. It's immediately replaced by a small, powerful computer that integrates flawlessly with the rest of her mental structure. Various shifts and changes happen to the rest of her body and mind, but subtle, and this time drawing entirely off canine biology, casting aside all other animals. Stronger, swifter, more loyal, a pack hunter.

And then the Blackboard pauses, as though it wants a moment of suspense, and then with a flourish writes its finest lines. Abigail's canine teeth lengthen slightly, hollow out, and fill with unparalleled biological potential. The raw stuff of Life and Matter, an incredible, devastating fusion of raw magic. It speaks Patterning, replication, parasite, upgrade - a bite from those magic infused teeth can absorb life or transmit its state, allowing for infinite self-replication. Controllable. Repeatable. Documentable.

The piece of chalk sets down with a sense of pride; potential fading, integrating into the world as just another Supernal Symbol. Your brand new techno-hound-vampire smiles at you enthusiastically. "So, where would you like to go next?"

[Anarion]

There is acceptance, with the understanding that she can only agree for herself.

Immediately, the jagged forest of bones erupts with poison flowers, huge and violet and sickly-sweet. Violet petals fall, ripping at your skin, and thick bone-roots leech the colour from the ground.

As she attacks, she also tempts. "Concede to me, Keynes, and I will tell you of the other members of my Cabal and their capabilities."

[Attack: No successes. If you accept her offer knock off a Door.]


"I will consider your offer, but not at this precise moment." The roots rip at Keynes feet, as he's talking, and he feels the world real around him as a piece of his mental resistance slips away. But before the attack can continue, time freezes, the roots and flowers suspended in midair, and he simply steps away from the remainder of the attack. Keynes pulls his gun out, takes his time assembling it, brushes aside a stray petal, takes aim, and pulls the trigger as time returns to its normal motion.

[roll0]

[doors 6/7]

[PhoeKun]

The piece of chalk sets down with a sense of pride; potential fading, integrating into the world as just another Supernal Symbol. Your brand new techno-hound-vampire smiles at you enthusiastically. "So, where would you like to go next?"

Lily swallows, for want of a voice. This is one thousand percent the sort of thing people go to wizard jail for. Oh, heck me... She passes Matter and Life sight over her new "creation", just trying to understand as quickly as possible how everything fit together in there. She'd stared plenty during the equation process, but the finished product was... unexpected? Sure, let's go with that. Learning, learning, data data data, only Masters make bricks without clay.

"I, uh, oh my. Huh. Well, I'd, um... you know, what I'd really love is a chance to look at some of the coding being done here, if that's cool. And I think you said something about meeting a professor?"

[Thanqol]

"I will consider your offer, but not at this precise moment." The roots rip at Keynes feet, as he's talking, and he feels the world real around him as a piece of his mental resistance slips away. But before the attack can continue, time freezes, the roots and flowers suspended in midair, and he simply steps away from the remainder of the attack. Keynes pulls his gun out, takes his time assembling it, brushes aside a stray petal, takes aim, and pulls the trigger as time returns to its normal motion.

[roll0]

[doors 6/7]

The bullet rots as it passes through the clouds of poisonous pollen, losing golden shards of itself as it flies - but still punching through Grimhild's shoulder. She shrieks, again thrown by the pain, and loses control of the spell she's putting together, leaving herself open to further attack.

[Doors 4/5]

[Attack: No successes]


Lily swallows, for want of a voice. This is one thousand percent the sort of thing people go to wizard jail for. Oh, heck me... She passes Matter and Life sight over her new "creation", just trying to understand as quickly as possible how everything fit together in there. She'd stared plenty during the equation process, but the finished product was... unexpected? Sure, let's go with that. Learning, learning, data data data, only Masters make bricks without clay.

"I, uh, oh my. Huh. Well, I'd, um... you know, what I'd really love is a chance to look at some of the coding being done here, if that's cool. And I think you said something about meeting a professor?"

When you look at her you hear the thrill of guitar, the beat of the hunt, the trumpets of the state. The Blackboard has gained its name and its identity: The Hounds (https://youtu.be/mBcDoZnN8ac). The music beats out in every beat of her heart and tap of her foot.

The nerves in her nose have blossomed like flowers, her hearing has sharpened, her eyes have lost function but grown more adapted to the dark. Her legs are especially strengthened, made for sprinting, and the bones in her feet have solidified and melded with steel. Reflexes are sharpened, especially reflexes in response to noise. She's lost mental capacity but that computer in her brain looks like a transmitter/receiver to you.

Oh, and one other cool thing: when you look into her eyes you don't see the sickening, crawling influence of the Abyss any longer. She's now at least a Sleepwalker - too deeply integrated with the Supernal to carry the void's shard any longer. Or maybe not human enough to.

"Speak of the devil," came a voice from down the corridor behind you. A deep British accent, the kind that comes from training rather than accident. "and he shall appear. I am Professor Western and it is wonderful to meet you."

Professor Western is a Mage. Normally that can be a surprisingly difficult thing to tell; the basic uncanny senses that every Awakened individual gets might tell you that there's something up with someone who's using magic you can't identify with your own Mage Sight - and that's the sense you're getting here. However, Professor Western can clearly perceive the same Supernal entities that you are seeing and is walking down the corridor in such a way so that he doesn't pass through them.

He's also a Sikh - dark skin, neat beard, metal bracer, hidden knife and dark green turban. And although he wears a black Steve Jobs-style turtleneck under his unbuttoned labcoat you can see with Life Sight the frankly intimidating physique of a highly trained martial artist underneath. There are callouses along his knuckles, multiple bullet and knife scars across his body - small caliber, close range. Between Life and Death sight you can triangulate his age to very late forties but he's in excellent shape for his age.

Death Sight also tells you he's killed. Many times. At least three times with his bare hands alone. Not recently - the blood is deep but it is dry.

"Oh - Professor Western!" said Abigail, hurrying over to him. When she moves it's extremely quick and Zero flinches as though she's reacting to a threat. "This is Lily, she's brought in a robot -"

"And an extremely impressive one at that," said the professor, walking over to stand in front of Zero. He puts his hands on her shoulders, sizing her up. "It's like looking into the future," he said - not awed, not inspired, but deeply thoughtful.

[Anarion]

The bullet rots as it passes through the clouds of poisonous pollen, losing golden shards of itself as it flies - but still punching through Grimhild's shoulder. She shrieks, again thrown by the pain, and loses control of the spell she's putting together, leaving herself open to further attack.

[Doors 4/5]

[Attack: No successes]


Keynes stoops and picks up a large, smooth stone, then adjusts his hat as he straightens. He flings the stone wildly, not at Grimhild, but to her side. It sails past her and strikes a frayed wire on a nearby street pole, which breaks and sends a crackling line of electricity directly at Grimhild.

[roll0]
edit: 10 again is a 10, then an 8, so 3 successes should that matter.

He makes an offer as well. "Perhaps, Grimhild, you would like to know how I came to be here. Yield to me, and I will tell you how I came to learn about Brunhild's present situation and your involvement in it."

6/7 doors.

[PhoeKun]

"And an extremely impressive one at that," said the professor, walking over to stand in front of Zero. He puts his hands on her shoulders, sizing her up. "It's like looking into the future," he said - not awed, not inspired, but deeply thoughtful.

A moment of silence punctuated by a tiny, enthusiastic, "Huh!" A smile, a grin really, flashed at the man admiring the robot. And in the space between, a shadow detaches itself from its owner and curls possessively around the feet of the machine called Zero.

Lily steps quietly over to the pair and places her feet back in her shadow. "She's more than the future, she's my past as well. Everything I've learned or owned or dared to dream, it's all in there. And she'll be more, too! When she's-- when I'm ready. With more time, more resources, more, um, gosh I'm sorry I was super not expecting any of this to happen today and I do not have my sales pitch ready at all. Does it show?"

She wipes her hand on her shirt and holds it out for Professor Western to shake. Her smile is charming, excited, a touch naive? No blood on this body, although she wonders if he's looking.

"I'm, uh, hoping we can be friends?"

[Thanqol]

Keynes stoops and picks up a large, smooth stone, then adjusts his hat as he straightens. He flings the stone wildly, not at Grimhild, but to her side. It sails past her and strikes a frayed wire on a nearby street pole, which breaks and sends a crackling line of electricity directly at Grimhild.

[roll0]
edit: 10 again is a 10, then an 8, so 3 successes should that matter.

He makes an offer as well. "Perhaps, Grimhild, you would like to know how I came to be here. Yield to me, and I will tell you how I came to learn about Brunhild's present situation and your involvement in it."

6/7 doors.

The electricity cuts through her poorly constructed shield and burns the flesh from the bones of her hands - and then her skeletal hands reach up to rip out one of her eyes as she accepts your offer.

Now half-dead and ghastly, she turns to the magic of Death - a simple and raw vision of your own end. The experience of dying, untempered and unvarnished, dragged out and shut down and the last desperate flickers of a fading mind before empty nothingness.

[One success on the attack; 2/5 doors]


A moment of silence punctuated by a tiny, enthusiastic, "Huh!" A smile, a grin really, flashed at the man admiring the robot. And in the space between, a shadow detaches itself from its owner and curls possessively around the feet of the machine called Zero.

Lily steps quietly over to the pair and places her feet back in her shadow. "She's more than the future, she's my past as well. Everything I've learned or owned or dared to dream, it's all in there. And she'll be more, too! When she's-- when I'm ready. With more time, more resources, more, um, gosh I'm sorry I was super not expecting any of this to happen today and I do not have my sales pitch ready at all. Does it show?"

She wipes her hand on her shirt and holds it out for Professor Western to shake. Her smile is charming, excited, a touch naive? No blood on this body, although she wonders if he's looking.

"I'm, uh, hoping we can be friends?"

He shakes your hand. Some men don't know how to shake hands; Western seems like he was professionally trained in an academy to give the perfect handshake. A diplomat's smile shows that he understands the nerves and suggests that you should be set at ease, that you should trust him with your secrets.

And subtly, every light in the hallway seems to change it's angle and narrow its cone of light so that you stand in the centre of a network of spotlights while the world around you darkens. It's an understated magical pattern, not a spell, a manifestation of his Nimbus just like your shadow is yours. The effect provides confidence and clarity in your beliefs - you feel more right when it washes through you - but that same confidence swiftly turns into self-hatred if you do not stand up for your ideals.

(Listening to the pattern of the lights closely there's music to it. Not the pain and grinding machinery of the Father of Death but deep, cerebral, ancient, analytical, curious, deeply dangerous - the music of a dragon (https://youtu.be/Y_0mJjd1q6w).)



"Abigail, fetch us some coffee," said Western with calm authority, and she bounds down the corridor and out of sight.

He then tears his eyes from Zero and looks directly at you. He raises a hand and there's a [I]distortion in the magical world - the shape of The Hounds becomes jagged and indistinct, and the looming presence of The Father of Death becomes blurred and distant.

"Ms. Mason, before I accept your offer... surely you see that I am being cast as Dr. Wiley in this Supernal narrative?" said Professor Western, with an edge of wistfulness in his voice. "Make no mistake, this is the most profound magical event I have ever heard of, and I will gladly follow through on it till the end - but I do not think we will be friends by the final curtain."

[Anarion]

The electricity cuts through her poorly constructed shield and burns the flesh from the bones of her hands - and then her skeletal hands reach up to rip out one of her eyes as she accepts your offer.

Now half-dead and ghastly, she turns to the magic of Death - a simple and raw vision of your own end. The experience of dying, untempered and unvarnished, dragged out and shut down and the last desperate flickers of a fading mind before empty nothingness.

[One success on the attack; 2/5 doors]


Keynes breathes a cold breath. As his life flashes before his eyes, he stiffens. Trying to think quickly, he calls upon the power of Time again, reversing Grimhild's vision so that she sees her own power fading, her life shifting backwards to before she awakened, to before her mind was even fully sapient, to where her will cannot resist him.

[roll0]
10 agains are: 8, 9. An exceptional success, if that matters here.

As Grimhild begins to lose her grip on her own mind, Keynes also speaks "I accept your earlier offer, please tell me all about your cabal."

[doors 4/7]

[PhoeKun]

"Abigail, fetch us some coffee," said Western with calm authority, and she bounds down the corridor and out of sight.

He then tears his eyes from Zero and looks directly at you. He raises a hand and there's a [I]distortion in the magical world - the shape of The Hounds becomes jagged and indistinct, and the looming presence of The Father of Death becomes blurred and distant.

"Ms. Mason, before I accept your offer... surely you see that I am being cast as Dr. Wiley in this Supernal narrative?" said Professor Western, with an edge of wistfulness in his voice. "Make no mistake, this is the most profound magical event I have ever heard of, and I will gladly follow through on it till the end - but I do not think we will be friends by the final curtain."



"I'll be honest with you," says Lily, bursting into sweet laughter, "This entire time I've been afraid that I'm the Wily figure. Maybe it [i]is you after all, but... well, knowing what it all's supposed to mean, how the story plays out if left to itself, you feel the same way I do, don't you? If that's what it takes, if this path leads to pain and betrayal and heartache and even war, it's worth it all for the sheer Magic of it. But you know? My friends have introduced me to people who love to tell me 'As Above, So Below' or whatever, but I really really really think the reverse is even more true. We're not powerless, we have minds and dreams and hopes and fears and hates and all of these are so beautiful I could cry, and they mean something. Nobody's ever not laughed at me for saying so, but this doesn't have to end badly. It just has to end. But, I guess, even if I'm wrong, I'd still go through with it. There's no path for me but forward."

She's got a fire in her eyes, and she's spread her arms without realizing it. There's a light around her and from it there doesn't seem to be a person so much as the pure joy of creation just standing there. For a second, there's nothing but the sound of her breathing, then everything fades back into focus. She shakes her head, and returns to being Lily.

"Also, I should probably pass on that coffee." she finishes awkwardly

[Thanqol]

Keynes breathes a cold breath. As his life flashes before his eyes, he stiffens. Trying to think quickly, he calls upon the power of Time again, reversing Grimhild's vision so that she sees her own power fading, her life shifting backwards to before she awakened, to before her mind was even fully sapient, to where her will cannot resist him.

[roll0]
10 agains are: 8, 9. An exceptional success, if that matters here.

As Grimhild begins to lose her grip on her own mind, Keynes also speaks "I accept your earlier offer, please tell me all about your cabal."

[doors 4/7]

There's a long pause, a moment of desperate emotion, and then a calm comes over Grimhild. It's the serenity of someone who has just realized the inevitability of their own defeat. She is confronted by the raw truth that she is not as good as she thought she was and, to her credit, she is making peace with that fact.

Time flattens out around her. The moment ticks away into a lifetime. She crumbles into the moment of her defeat, stretching it out to last an eternity - each moment passing, wistfully valued before being lost.

[Defend: Two successes.

1/5 door]




"I'll be honest with you," says Lily, bursting into sweet laughter, "This entire time I've been afraid that I'm the Wily figure. Maybe it [i]is you after all, but... well, knowing what it all's supposed to mean, how the story plays out if left to itself, you feel the same way I do, don't you? If that's what it takes, if this path leads to pain and betrayal and heartache and even war, it's worth it all for the sheer Magic of it. But you know? My friends have introduced me to people who love to tell me 'As Above, So Below' or whatever, but I really really really think the reverse is even more true. We're not powerless, we have minds and dreams and hopes and fears and hates and all of these are so beautiful I could cry, and they mean something. Nobody's ever not laughed at me for saying so, but this doesn't have to end badly. It just has to end. But, I guess, even if I'm wrong, I'd still go through with it. There's no path for me but forward."

She's got a fire in her eyes, and she's spread her arms without realizing it. There's a light around her and from it there doesn't seem to be a person so much as the pure joy of creation just standing there. For a second, there's nothing but the sound of her breathing, then everything fades back into focus. She shakes her head, and returns to being Lily.

"Also, I should probably pass on that coffee." she finishes awkwardly

Western lowers his hand and the Supernal entities come back into focus; the vast machinery stretching out and beyond this small corridor. Then he rolls and flicks his fingers. "Coffee is diverted," he said with a twitch of a smile.

"We agree on enough," said Western. "And I certainly can't do this on my own, so I'm prepared to accept your offer of friendship and alliance. I'm giving you access to your phone back and unrestricted access to my facility and research notes," he rolls his fingers - whenever he's casting any spell he's doing a distinctive roll of his fingers into a fist and back out again, followed by quick, swift motions as though typing on an invisible keyboard.

He opens a door into a large circular lounge room, walls surrounded by computers. His fingers begin twitching, bringing up notes and diagrams on the screens, long rolling verses of annotated text in high speech. The gist from eyeballing it is that this place began to Verge three days ago and he's been collecting as much data as possible since then. "I am an Adept of Forces and Prime, and an Initiate of Spirit and Mind. I hold no allegiance to any of the Awakened Orders. Despite my title, I am not actually a scientist or a programmer; I am actually an ASIS officer," ASIS is the Australian Secret Intelligence Service, a HUMINT foreign intelligence agency like the Australian CIA. "The majority of my work at this place has been laundering stolen IT and robotics technology my agency has obtained from foreign powers so it looks like we invented it independently. As a result, this is not actually a research lab and I do not have a staff of really qualified scientists who can assist you with your work - mostly we're staffed by professional frauds, reverse-engineers, security and intelligence professionals. Before her... change Abigail was also an intelligence agent."

"Ah," said Zero to herself, the satisfied murmur of a question answered.

[Anarion]

There's a long pause, a moment of desperate emotion, and then a calm comes over Grimhild. It's the serenity of someone who has just realized the inevitability of their own defeat. She is confronted by the raw truth that she is not as good as she thought she was and, to her credit, she is making peace with that fact.

Time flattens out around her. The moment ticks away into a lifetime. She crumbles into the moment of her defeat, stretching it out to last an eternity - each moment passing, wistfully valued before being lost.

[Defend: Two successes.

1/5 door]



Keynes, seeing her defend in such a manner, takes a measured approach. He attacks with Space, aiming his bullet so that rather than fly in slow motion against Grimhild's defense, it is fired and then it is already there, striking the final blow.
[roll0]

Missing his strike as the bullet does not quite reach its mark, Keynes speaks as well. "You strike me as a reasonable person, Grimhild. You were very thoughtful to the bystanders and it seems when we're done here, we'll have an opportunity to speak frankly to each other and resolve our misunderstandings." His voice echoes through the stillness, rich and deep as he makes his formal offer. "There need not be bad blood between us, accept your defeat and I'll end the curse I placed upon you."