Alyscamps IC - Cats in Vats

[stveje]

J'ai beaucoup étudié les philosophes et les chats. La sagesse des chats est infiniment supérieure.
-- Hippolyte Taine, Vie et opinions philosophiques d'un chat

https://i.imgur.com/j2e0ZWB.jpg
Image source (https://www.deviantart.com/art/Clouded-Leopard-733178900)

OOC Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?551543-Alyscamps-OOC-Les-chats-sont-liquides)

The Cast
"Faust" (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=22936640&postcount=113), Mysterium, Mastigos
"Senna" (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=22937743&postcount=118), Adamantine Arrow, Thursus
"Guillaume" (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=22940183&postcount=123), Adamantine Arrow, Obrimos
"Jack" (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=22940502&postcount=124), Silver Ladder, Acanthus

NPC Sheets
Myel "Griffin" (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=23196088&postcount=280), Moros, Mysterium / Banisher
"Bof" (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=22955676&postcount=146), Acanthus, Adamantine Arrow
"Nitre" (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=22955676&postcount=146), Thursus, Mysterium
"Fleur-Délicieuse" (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=23006464&postcount=185), Obrimos, Seers
“Iota” (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=23144137&postcount=247), Mastigos, Mysterium

Senna, you've been asked to meet a fellow Arrow agent today. There's no word on what the meeting is about, but presumably the girl you're meeting will fill you in. Her name is Bof, which sounds like the laziest shadow name you ever heard. It'd be like an American calling herself "Meh," you can practically feel the name shrugging its shoulders, like, "whatever, man". Expectations are low already, I'm sure.

You're to meet her around noon in the most French of all places: no, not a café, I'm talking about a pharmacy of course. You can't swing a cat in France without hitting one of these - please don't swing cats, unless we're talking Swing the dance. After all, everybody digs a swinging cat. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4rrXR6n0RTY)

There aren't many people when you get there - it's noon, normal people are off to lunch - and it's not hard to pick out Bof. She's slouching near the counter, staring at a packet of emergency contraception pills. You're quite sure she's high as a kite, hung over, and probably can't tell one word from another. Her clothes hang off her scrawny body like they were made for someone twice her size, and her hair is a bird's nest. You doubt either has been washed recently.

What do you do?

Guillaume, you're with Senna. Why? You tell me. Did you get called on this job too, as a fellow Arrow, or are you here for your own reasons?

Faust, you're at your family's chateau. It can get a bit lonely with everyone gone. Everyone except old Perceval and his cat, Ronron, that is. Perceval has been keeping your family's grounds since forever, and no one knows the place like he does. You're not sure exactly how old he is, but he was working the grounds back when your grandfather was young, so do the math. Even the cat is older than you, unless it's a new cat that looks exactly the same.

Perceval is no Mage, but he appears to have a sense of what goes on, and he sometimes has the odd visitor. Today the castle is less lonely, because you have not one but two visitors. The first is Jack, whose reasons for visiting I won't pretend to know. The second is Nitre, a small but terribly obese man, his neck wider than his bald head. His pale skin slouches off his body and seems to be in the process of fossilizing. He could be thirty or he could be a hundred, it's hard to tell given his unhealthy appearance, and yet his eyes sparkle with life. He's wearing a shapeless brown-green robe, and in one hand he carries a handful of dirt with a small, fragile-looking flower sprouting from it. No doubt he's here to see Perceval, who'll be happy to take the flower off his hands and give it a nice pot, or maybe a place in the garden.

Nitre is one of the Archdruids of the Mysterium, so you've probably heard of him, but have you met him before? How do you greet him?

Jack, you're with Faust at her family's chateau today. Why are you there?

[Anarion]

I highly doubt Guillaume was called. Bof's little show almost certainly works better on one person than two. I think, rather, that he chose to spend the day with Senna and joined him on his little trip. Although, when one is dealing with an Acanthus, one can never be quite certain that such choices were made separately, as opposed to the meeting being planned for a time when Bof knew the two would be together. I leave walking through that door to you.

As for my interest, I don't know Bof well, and I wish to know her better. We are both initiates in the Arrow, she is, I believe, the superior Mage, and each Arrow follows the tenet of The Supernal as the Self. I wish to understand the path of each practitioner, that I might judge its merits for my own growth.

[Thanqol]

There exists an idea of libraries as valuable things. Fascinating secrets of the occult unearthed by diligent scholars by dusty candlelight, tomes both precious and dangerous, a living space of knowledge above and beyond the mortal world. Illuminated volumes with beautiful pictures and ominous tales, inter-woven and valuable. The library of the mind is vault, school and weapons vault all in one.

The library of the mind is not volume after volume of painstakingly double-checked payroll figures for mercenaries in the sixteenth century. In two weeks she's learned nothing other than pikemen get paid 20% more than musketeers, and some pikemen get paid five times the average for no discernable reason.

Intellectually the mind of Faust goes through what it feels like the correct response to wasting so little of her preciously limited time should be. She imagines the outrage and the frustration, but she finds the sensation curious and wan. Anger as an intellectual exercise. Like striking a match on the sun.

"You look like trash," said Lucifer Morningstar.

She couldn't have been more wrong. Faust looked radiant. The deep hollows under iridescent eyes, the perfectly dishevelled hair still slightly damp from her perfunctory shower, the luxurious bathrobe embroidered with veins of marbled crimson. Olive skin smoother than a river stone and elegant half-moon reading glasses. Her physical exhaustion was vividly contrasted against the bright intentness of her eyes and actions - her body was burning away but her mind was crackling like thunder. She looked like she was in a trailer for a vampire movie.

But all things were a matter of timing, and goth was out. The current zeitgeist was righteous fury. She knew it because she felt it - though not really for the woke reasons that were mobilizing and unifying the champions of popular culture. So, when a quiet knock and soft voice informed her that the guest was here, she got changed into something more appropriate. Slightly torn black t-shirt shirt with Vive la France! in Arabic. Thick red kerchief around her neck that could be pulled up into a face mask. Hair pinned into a tight bun with six inch needles. Wear for a riot.

Faust has not met Nitre before. She has no idea what he wants with her groundskeeper. But despite her defiant dress and simmering fury she greets him with a humble bow and makes to follow him wherever he goes. Despite the depth of her pride and her lifetime of being served, loved and obeyed, Faust is bound by the enlightenment that all her wealth, beauty and power are as dust before the secret masters of the Mysterium. They are the men and women who have the only power worth having and their first lesson is that that every secret will carry a price.

[Eldest]

Jack woke up on Faust's sofa, and to be frank, Jack isn't sure why she's there. Jack had a rough night last night, and a rough day before that, and she'd been having a bad morning ever since she woke up to find out that she was on the Wrong Side Of The Bed, and that was Fated to have some unpleasantness to her that day. She'd had a rather interesting day following, a lot of tilting at windmills, and she'd gone drinking to celebrate a day beating her Fate. It was all a bit of a blur after that, to be frank, and she'd woken up in dire need of some aspirin, answers, and possibly a nap. Jack also just said this entire monologue inside her head, in third person. Jack should probably stop doing that now, and is frankly kind of concerned that it happened in the first place.

Jack rolls off the sofa with the suddenness of a landslide bored of being stationary, and goes in search of Interesting Times. Also, aspirin.

[Elanorin]

"-I tell you, straight from the tree. Nothing like it. It's like liquid sunshine."

Senna burst through the pharmacy's doors mid-conversation, completely wrapped up in his discussion with Guillaume and his face and voice are full of laughter, his brilliant mood evident and radiant all about him. Senna is rarely in a publically bad mood as such but today's smile is unusually bright even for him. He is genuinely pleased to get a chance to spend some time with his friend and is clearly distracted with his attention on Guillaume, rather than Bof, right up until they are well inside the pharmacy and the door is slowly swinging shut behind them.

"Did I mention stopping- this won't- I'll be quick, yes. Then lunch. I promise, my friend," with a beaming smile he tapped a warm hand on Guillaume's shoulder before finally glancing around and spotting Bof. His smile faded only a little, not out of any kind of annoyance, but merely because she was not someone he knew very well. In fact, this is the very first time they have met directly. He knew of her, Guillaume may have mentioned her a couple of times, they've been in the same place a handful of times, but Senna's never had cause to speak to her before now.

A polite cough, a couple of steps approach without coming too close, clearly something private was going on.

"Can I help you?"

[stveje]

But all things were a matter of timing, and goth was out. The current zeitgeist was righteous fury. She knew it because she felt it - though not really for the woke reasons that were mobilizing and unifying the champions of popular culture. So, when a quiet knock and soft voice informed her that the guest was here, she got changed into something more appropriate. Slightly torn black t-shirt shirt with Vive la France! in Arabic. Thick red kerchief around her neck that could be pulled up into a face mask. Hair pinned into a tight bun with six inch needles. Wear for a riot.

Faust has not met Nitre before. She has no idea what he wants with her groundskeeper. But despite her defiant dress and simmering fury she greets him with a humble bow and makes to follow him wherever he goes. Despite the depth of her pride and her lifetime of being served, loved and obeyed, Faust is bound by the enlightenment that all her wealth, beauty and power are as dust before the secret masters of the Mysterium. They are the men and women who have the only power worth having and their first lesson is that that every secret will carry a price.

"You look lovely as ever, Madame Saint-Gilles," Nitre says as you walk. Polite small talk, or is it? It's always hard to tell with Mages whether their words carry more meaning than at first glance. "I like the look. I used to run in a few riots in my youth, but we don't have to actually riot to make our will heard, now, of course."

Nitre carries the flower with all the care a rare and fragile thing demands, and greets Perceval in the traditional manner, with three quick kisses on his stubbly gray cheeks. They exchange a few informal words in the old Occitan tongue that practically no one below 50 speaks anymore. Do you speak it? Very likely not, but I don't want to make assumptions.

Then Nitre hands the flower to Perceval, who takes it with hands shaking slightly from age and promises to take good care of it. Are you paying attention? If you think you are, Wits+Composure. If not, well, then you're not.


Jack woke up on Faust's sofa, and to be frank, Jack isn't sure why she's there. Jack had a rough night last night, and a rough day before that, and she'd been having a bad morning ever since she woke up to find out that she was on the Wrong Side Of The Bed, and that was Fated to have some unpleasantness to her that day. She'd had a rather interesting day following, a lot of tilting at windmills, and she'd gone drinking to celebrate a day beating her Fate. It was all a bit of a blur after that, to be frank, and she'd woken up in dire need of some aspirin, answers, and possibly a nap. Jack also just said this entire monologue inside her head, in third person. Jack should probably stop doing that now, and is frankly kind of concerned that it happened in the first place.

Jack rolls off the sofa with the suddenness of a landslide bored of being stationary, and goes in search of Interesting Times. Also, aspirin.

As an Acanthus, you stumble into both of these the same way a cartoon character stumbles upon a rake that just happens to be lying around: that is to say, by some inexplicable rule of Fate.

You're wandering about the garden when you find the groundskeeper's old cat, Ronron, meow-ing indignantly at a pair of muddy boots sticking out of a sloe bush. Interestingly, the boots are attached to a pair of legs, which, one presumes, are attached to someone's body.

Looks like you're not the only one to choose Chateau Saint-Gilles to crash in, only this one didn't have the sense to find a couch.

What do you do?


I highly doubt Guillaume was called. Bof's little show almost certainly works better on one person than two. I think, rather, that he chose to spend the day with Senna and joined him on his little trip. Although, when one is dealing with an Acanthus, one can never be quite certain that such choices were made separately, as opposed to the meeting being planned for a time when Bof knew the two would be together. I leave walking through that door to you.

As for my interest, I don't know Bof well, and I wish to know her better. We are both initiates in the Arrow, she is, I believe, the superior Mage, and each Arrow follows the tenet of The Supernal as the Self. I wish to understand the path of each practitioner, that I might judge its merits for my own growth.


A polite cough, a couple of steps approach without coming too close, clearly something private was going on.

"Can I help you?"

Now that you're not busy talking to Guillaume, and Guillaume isn't busy listening to you, you notice that the pharmacy is empty. There's no one here except for you three. Yet the door was open, and you don't think Bof works here. In fact, come to think of it, the street outside is weirdly empty too. There are a few people and cars, but the café across the street is completely empty. That is weird, but clearly no accident.

"I sent everyone home," Bof says without taking her eyes off the box, as if she read your mind. You don't think she did; neither of you are versed in Mind magic, but you'd have noticed something.

A few seconds of silence, then she looks up, her eyes wandering from you to Guillaume then back again. "You can help me clean up."

Just as she says this, you hear the familiar roar of a fast car driving as fast as a fast car can drive. Which is fast - as you should know. Also bad, because this is a small street and cars aren't supposed to drive faster than a crawl. You have a split second in which to turn around and see the car - a beautiful, expensive, and above all fast car, that I'll give you the honor of describing - hurtling straight for the café.

Good thing it's empty. The same can not be said for the car; there's a man in the driver's seat, but he's clearly not driving, and a young woman on the passenger seat, both screaming.

What, if anything, do you do in that split second?

[Anarion]

What, if anything, do you do in that split second?

Guillaume has many options here. The reflex to use his power to prevent a disaster is there. He could control the car himself if it still functions, swerving the tires and slamming the brakes. He could alter the direction of gravity against the car's motion, forcefully decelerating it with its own mass. He could try to spread and redirect the energy from the collision. But he does not. It's clear that Bof expected this, and he is here to view Bof's path to enlightenment. Not to mention the risk that the two people are sleepers and any open and powerful display of magic to stop the car could lead to an abyssal manifestation.

Guillaume does not have time to fully consider all those options of course. In a split second, he lifts his arm slightly, then releases the tensed muscle, adjusts his coat, and watches.

[Thanqol]

"You look lovely as ever, Madame Saint-Gilles," Nitre says as you walk. Polite small talk, or is it? It's always hard to tell with Mages whether their words carry more meaning than at first glance. "I like the look. I used to run in a few riots in my youth, but we don't have to actually riot to make our will heard, now, of course."

"Because politics are as we wish them to be, or because politics are irrelevant before Awakened will?" asked Faust. "And please. I am acting as a Mage. Courtesy demands you use my Shadow Name."

There's firmness, but no rancour in her voice. She feels compelled to re-affirm her commitment to this path.


Nitre carries the flower with all the care a rare and fragile thing demands, and greets Perceval in the traditional manner, with three quick kisses on his stubbly gray cheeks. They exchange a few informal words in the old Occitan tongue that practically no one below 50 speaks anymore. Do you speak it? Very likely not, but I don't want to make assumptions.

Then Nitre hands the flower to Perceval, who takes it with hands shaking slightly from age and promises to take good care of it. Are you paying attention? If you think you are, Wits+Composure. If not, well, then you're not.

[Wits+Composure: Nothing on two dice]

Faust does not speak Occitan - she had a few lessons as a child but little of that remains beyond basic pleasantries. And that should be the end of it.

It's still startling that it's not. Language isn't what she thought it was. Originally she'd imagined it as a structured thing, a collection of words and phrases to be accumulated into sentences; a physical thing that exists in the phenomenal world. It is no such mundane creation. Language is a pattern that exists in/shapes/rules the mind - a synchronization of thoughts that allows for the frictionless transfer of ideas between compatible minds. And all the languages of the world, even noble French, are ultimately imperfect reflections of the alphabet of souls that the Devil writes her contracts on.

[Mind 3 allows me a spell to speak any/all languages: 3,8,2,1]

[Elanorin]

Now that you're not busy talking to Guillaume, and Guillaume isn't busy listening to you, you notice that the pharmacy is empty. There's no one here except for you three. Yet the door was open, and you don't think Bof works here. In fact, come to think of it, the street outside is weirdly empty too. There are a few people and cars, but the café across the street is completely empty. That is weird, but clearly no accident.

"I sent everyone home," Bof says without taking her eyes off the box, as if she read your mind. You don't think she did; neither of you are versed in Mind magic, but you'd have noticed something.

A few seconds of silence, then she looks up, her eyes wandering from you to Guillaume then back again. "You can help me clean up."

Just as she says this, you hear the familiar roar of a fast car driving as fast as a fast car can drive. Which is fast - as you should know. Also bad, because this is a small street and cars aren't supposed to drive faster than a crawl. You have a split second in which to turn around and see the car - a beautiful, expensive, and above all fast car, that I'll give you the honor of describing - hurtling straight for the café.

Good thing it's empty. The same can not be said for the car; there's a man in the driver's seat, but he's clearly not driving, and a young woman on the passenger seat, both screaming.

What, if anything, do you do in that split second?

It might be because Senna's mind is unusually 'off duty' this afternoon and thus sluggish to spark the usual instinctive rash acts with next to no thought behind them. Perhaps it is Bof's calm, or bored, demeanour that radiates such sluggishness that it affects even him. Perhaps a bit of both, but fact remains, Senna catches on too late. He whips around to see the out of control car, a Veyron (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bugatti_Veyron) if I'm not mistaken. You certainly don't see them around every day. His mouth drops open, his mind blanks out.

I've never driven one of those.

That car was heading for certain death and while desperate notions of how to save it exploded in his mind he knew none would really do. They were not enough. Not for this speed. Not for this car. Oh the wreck that's about to be made of that insanely expensive and expertly engineered car. But by now Guillaume's hand has already returned to his side and the car is passing.

Senna heads towards the door as if to act, in the direction of the imminent crash, but they are ultimately much too slow and utterly pointless save to give a fractionally better view. He still hurries on, throws open the door and heads outside towards the café just as the deafening sound of smashed glass, crumbling metal and broken masonry takes over the street.

[Anarion]

Guillaume lets Senna run ahead and turns to look at Bof. "Was that what you were hoping for?"

[stveje]

"Because politics are as we wish them to be, or because politics are irrelevant before Awakened will?" asked Faust. "And please. I am acting as a Mage. Courtesy demands you use my Shadow Name."

There's firmness, but no rancour in her voice. She feels compelled to re-affirm her commitment to this path.

"Yes, of course," says Nitre, like getting the courtesies wrong is just another normal day for him. "You can be political or you can be *in* politics, and as with everything in life, you will find those for whom the Awakened Will *is* politics and politics the Awakened Will. I'm curious where you will find yourself, Madame Faust."


[Wits+Composure: Nothing on two dice]

[Mind 3 allows me a spell to speak any/all languages: 3,8,2,1]

Most people learn languages by memorizing words and phrases. That's what most people *think*, at least, but it's a Lie. No one learns a language like that. Some people learn to recite another language like you'd recite digits of Pi and claim to speak the language based on this, and they may be able to fool the naive, but ask them to have a conversation with a native speaker and they Fail. Hard.

Some people get tattoos in languages they have no experience with. Some of these people have never spoken another language their entire lives and seem to think you can just translate an English sentence word for word with a dictionary. The results are hilariously terrible, because that's not how any language works. But you might think so, if you're of the belief that learning a language is just a matter of memorizing words.

The English put their adjectives before the noun they describe while the French put most of them after the noun: "a red car" versus "une voiture rouge" (literally "a car red"). Memorizing the words is simple, getting your brain to unlearn something so ingrained as the proper order in which to expect words requires a rather radical rewiring of patterns, which is why most people have a hard time with it, and why children are better at it. But for a Mastigos, it's all very trivial.

*

Most of the conversation does seem to be mere pleasantries. How's Ronron, the old scamp? Like a bee in clover. The mice are breeding like rabbits this season. Good, good.

But you make particular note of the reaction and conversation when the exchange of the flower happens.

"Is this ...?" Perceval says, taking the flower. "It is, isn't it? I never thought I would see one."

"You may yet see it again," Nitre remarks. "You know the Arab's saying?"

"I'm not sure I do."

Nitre laughs and pats the old man on the arm. "Make sure Ronron doesn't eat it, will you?"

And then it's back to pleasantries. You get the feeling that this is no ordinary flower, and that there is something important about it.


Guillaume does not have time to fully consider all those options of course. In a split second, he lifts his arm slightly, then releases the tensed muscle, adjusts his coat, and watches.


Guillaume lets Senna run ahead and turns to look at Bof. "Was that what you were hoping for?"

Bof shrugs as she picks stuff off the shelves. It seems random to your medically untrained eye, like casual looting, but you'd bet your boots it's not actually random. She's not hurrying, but there's not a hint of hesitation or uncertainty either. She just ... does. "Hope has nothing to do with anything," she says as she makes her way towards the door.


Senna heads towards the door as if to act, in the direction of the imminent crash, but they are ultimately much too slow and utterly pointless save to give a fractionally better view. He still hurries on, throws open the door and heads outside towards the café just as the deafening sound of smashed glass, crumbling metal and broken masonry takes over the street.

The car smashes into the café, totally wrecking both. The two people are trapped inside the wreck, under debris. They're not yet dead - free information for you - but maybe you're not thinking of them at all.

The moment the car crashes through the facade, the street comes alive as people turn and look. Some begin running towards the accident while others grab their phones - some to call emergency, others to film the tragedy, because that's what people do.

Bof strolls out of the pharmacy a little behind you, hands full of medicine, calm, almost leisurely steps.

Somewhere, someone yells, "My café! Wait, is that ... my car!"

[Anarion]

Guillaume looks over Bof's armful of things and calmly takes a few notes of Euros out of his wallet and tucks them neatly into the corner of the register. It's not precise, merely some compensation, nothing of particular note. Then he brushes some dust off his coat and follows after Bof.

"I appreciate the use of precision in language" he says over the din. "What was your purpose in inviting Senna here today, other than cleanup, if one exists?"

[stveje]

Guillaume looks over Bof's armful of things and calmly takes a few notes of Euros out of his wallet and tucks them neatly into the corner of the register. It's not precise, merely some compensation, nothing of particular note. Then he brushes some dust off his coat and follows after Bof.

"I appreciate the use of precision in language" he says over the din. "What was your purpose in inviting Senna here today, other than cleanup, if one exists?"

She looks at you as if speaking would be just too much effort, then blows a random bit of downy feather off her shoulder and continues on. You feel her thoughts reaching out. Do you let them through? There's no insisting.

[Anarion]

She looks at you as if speaking would be just too much effort, then blows a random bit of downy feather off her shoulder and continues on. You feel her thoughts reaching out. Do you let them through? There's no insisting.

I do. This is curiosity and a fellow Arrow. It is why Guillaume came here today, after all. Bof is interesting, he couldn't care less about this whole car incident (although he supposes the insurance litigation soon to come will offer his firm good business).

[Thanqol]

"Yes, of course," says Nitre, like getting the courtesies wrong is just another normal day for him. "You can be political or you can be *in* politics, and as with everything in life, you will find those for whom the Awakened Will *is* politics and politics the Awakened Will. I'm curious where you will find yourself, Madame Faust."

"I, too," said Faust, determined to keep the greatest of lessons chief in her mind. Knowledge is power. The master's answer is a non sequitur and though a thrill of injured pride prompts her to demand he speak plainly she strangles it - in her mind's eye the ghosts of goetic demons in hoods, capes and nail-studded face-masks beat a petty creature to shards before it can raise its voice.

Anyone who wants to hear her opinions is wrong. She knows for a fact that everything she is now is pointless, pathetic, undirected, and totally disconnected from the truth of the supernal. Anyone she could sway with her wealth and charm would be her inferior. There was only one thing that mattered, and only the Mysterium were far sighted enough to acknowledge it.

So she bites her tongue and takes the sentence for what it is: the advice that there is magic in politics. That there is magic in spheres beyond those of books and history. She drinks every casual drop of insight fiercely, in the full awareness that her own ruined self rebels against having to change its worldview to accommodate a larger truth than its own.


Most of the conversation does seem to be mere pleasantries. How's Ronron, the old scamp? Like a bee in clover. The mice are breeding like rabbits this season. Good, good.

But you make particular note of the reaction and conversation when the exchange of the flower happens.

"Is this ...?" Perceval says, taking the flower. "It is, isn't it? I never thought I would see one."

"You may yet see it again," Nitre remarks. "You know the Arab's saying?"

"I'm not sure I do."

Nitre laughs and pats the old man on the arm. "Make sure Ronron doesn't eat it, will you?"

And then it's back to pleasantries. You get the feeling that this is no ordinary flower, and that there is something important about it.

The Arab's saying. "Daduchos, if I may," said Faust in Ottican, using the formal Mysterium rank for an Initiate in the Mystery of Nightmares, the third rank of the Egregore. Her tongue follows artificial reflexes around unfamiliar words. She knows better than directly to ask 'wtf'. Knowledge carries a price. If the Mystery is presented to her without commentary then it implies that the process of unravelling it is to be the price. So she takes that lesson too and endeavours to be likewise indirect. "To which Arab do you refer?"

Just enough for a starting point.

[Elanorin]

The car smashes into the café, totally wrecking both. The two people are trapped inside the wreck, under debris. They're not yet dead - free information for you - but maybe you're not thinking of them at all.

The moment the car crashes through the facade, the street comes alive as people turn and look. Some begin running towards the accident while others grab their phones - some to call emergency, others to film the tragedy, because that's what people do.

Bof strolls out of the pharmacy a little behind you, hands full of medicine, calm, almost leisurely steps.

Somewhere, someone yells, "My café! Wait, is that ... my car!"

"Aaaiie!" And other sounds dash out of Senna's mouth. He's stopped right outside the pharmacy and has both hands clutching at his own hair. Some expletives are mixed in there too.

At the mention of 'my car' though he does a double-take, immediately searching the scene for the face that went with that voice.

[stveje]

I do. This is curiosity and a fellow Arrow. It is why Guillaume came here today, after all. Bof is interesting, he couldn't care less about this whole car incident (although he supposes the insurance litigation soon to come will offer his firm good business).

You have a memory, like a dream you just remembered, only you know it's not really yours:

You're a cat ... you think. Whether it's some kind of dream Bof had, or she's actually inside a cat's mind, you're not sure. You're following a tomcat, strolling confidently down by the piers, looking at the dark water and the birds.

A car drives by in the background and the two cats look up to follow it as it disappears in the distance. To your eyes - the cat's eyes - the car is the car just crashed in the café and another car at the same time. Myel Saint-Gilles is driving it, driving Myel's car.

A flash of metal and glass shattering, a wreckage of bits both mechanical and human, pass through your mind. The car drives on, it is now the other car, Myel's car.

You turn back to your own affairs, looking at the flights of birds, when a large black crow lands on a sign and lets out a deep croak. The crow somehow fills up the whole memory, or dream, like it is something big and terrible, and terribly Real. Its coat of feathers is immaculate, like a perfectly tailored black suit. It looks down its beak at you--the cat, at Bof--and its black eyes make even her shrink in unease.

She fears the Crow, you realize. Maybe everyone does, even streetwise old tomcats and monks. She doesn't like it, but she knows it is unwise not to heed it.

The crow tilts its head towards the disappearing car. You look, again.

The tomcat from before walks up beside you, both of you looking in the direction the car went. You look at the tomcat, and it is now Senna, smoking a cigarette as he watches the crash.

The gist of it seems to be that the car would crash, and it had something to do with Senna and Myel. And the Crow wanted Bof to investigate.

Wits+Politics to put a face to the Crow [Your Real Estate specialty does not apply, or I'd have given it for free].


The Arab's saying. "Daduchos, if I may," said Faust in Ottican, using the formal Mysterium rank for an Initiate in the Mystery of Nightmares, the third rank of the Egregore. Her tongue follows artificial reflexes around unfamiliar words. She knows better than directly to ask 'wtf'. Knowledge carries a price. If the Mystery is presented to her without commentary then it implies that the process of unravelling it is to be the price. So she takes that lesson too and endeavours to be likewise indirect. "To which Arab do you refer?"

Just enough for a starting point.

"The Arab everyone thinks of, or ...?" Nitre says, turning his full attention on you now that he's delivered his flower - what he came here for, one presumes. Meanwhile, Perceval leaves you to your business - it is none of his. "'That is not dead which can eternal lie,'" Nitre quotes. "The Mad Arab, Abdul Alhazred, invented by Lovecraft. Lovecraft invented a lot of these lies to keep the unworthy away from the Truth. Even the name is wrong, as you'd know. The Wise know the Truth, of course.

"I always imagine a seed or a germ, able to lie in the frozen ground for aeons and sprout anew when conditions change. A hundred years, a thousand, it matters not. Time - and Death - is meaningless to a seed. But the couplet has a secondary meaning, relating back to itself. 'That is not dead which can eternal lie,' as in tell a falsehood. Once a lie is allowed to spread its seeds ...

"Your brother was a fan. I imagine he has all of his writings in your library."


"Aaaiie!" And other sounds dash out of Senna's mouth. He's stopped right outside the pharmacy and has both hands clutching at his own hair. Some expletives are mixed in there too.

At the mention of 'my car' though he does a double-take, immediately searching the scene for the face that went with that voice.

A woman, making very similar sounds and hair-tearing gestures, stomping the ground and shouting expletives like a hardened sailor at anyone unfortunate enough to be within range. She's pretty but not striking, her clothes showing a very refined - and expensive, very, very expensive - taste with a sense of practicality. She looks ... delectable is the word that instantly presents itself to your mind, and weirdly you're suddenly hungry - for her - an ephemeral scent of some deliciously sweet and complex perfume almost lifting you off your feet by the nose like in those silly American cartoons. [This is not a spell, FYI, but her long-term nimbus. It's only a small impulse, to follow or ignore as you like.]

You've been to enough formal events to recognize her as a chef of some renown, Michelin stars and all that. Haute cuisine isn't your forté, however, so the recognition is only faint. You may vaguely remember her name, Stéphanie Dubois, or maybe you never paid that much attention. Among the Awakened she calls herself Fleur-Délicieuse, but she walks in somewhat different Awakened spheres than you, so I don't think you're familiar with her. I could be wrong, maybe Faust has mentioned her to you.

She turns and fixes her piercing blue eyes on you. They narrow slightly, and there's clearly no love lost there. "You!" she hisses and stalks towards you. She looks about ready to explode when she notices Bof, and a look of disgust crosses her face. "Oh, look, it's the imbécile." She notices Guillaume, and her glare intensifies anew.

"Coucou, Fleur," Bof says, no hint of malice, like merely greeting an old classmate.

"Don't 'coucou' me, crétin," she says and gets right up in Bof's face. Bof is completely unfazed. "You did this. You destroyed my café, my car," it is clear which she cares about more, and it curiously isn't the thing she's actually known for. "Faust put you up to this. I know who my enemies are, oh yes!"

[Eldest]

As an Acanthus, you stumble into both of these the same way a cartoon character stumbles upon a rake that just happens to be lying around: that is to say, by some inexplicable rule of Fate.

You're wandering about the garden when you find the groundskeeper's old cat, Ronron, meow-ing indignantly at a pair of muddy boots sticking out of a sloe bush. Interestingly, the boots are attached to a pair of legs, which, one presumes, are attached to someone's body.

Looks like you're not the only one to choose Chateau Saint-Gilles to crash in, only this one didn't have the sense to find a couch.

What do you do?

Jack looks the boots over carefully, then the legs in those boots, and then the body itself. Hopefully it's still breathing: in fact, once she's gotten to the body, that's the first thing to check. Dead people showing up in your house unannounced are the third worst sorts of uninvited guests, after the overly religious neighbor and your racist uncle, and she wants to figure out who else crashed Chateau Saint-Gilles last night. She studies the visitor carefully, taking her time, and comes to the conclusion that she doesn't know jack (pun intended) about investigation. Luckily, beginner's luck can outweigh skill, some days. Today, however, did not appear to be that day.


Casting Exceptional Luck, using her rote. 1 reach for instant cast. 4 1 4 6 3 5 8.
Turning around and using that boon as a +1 dice to an investigation roll. Untrained, wits of 4, dice pool of 2. Roll of 6, 3. Drat.

[Thanqol]

"The Arab everyone thinks of, or ...?" Nitre says, turning his full attention on you now that he's delivered his flower - what he came here for, one presumes. Meanwhile, Perceval leaves you to your business - it is none of his. "'That is not dead which can eternal lie,'" Nitre quotes. "The Mad Arab, Abdul Alhazred, invented by Lovecraft. Lovecraft invented a lot of these lies to keep the unworthy away from the Truth. Even the name is wrong, as you'd know. The Wise know the Truth, of course.

"I always imagine a seed or a germ, able to lie in the frozen ground for aeons and sprout anew when conditions change. A hundred years, a thousand, it matters not. Time - and Death - is meaningless to a seed. But the couplet has a secondary meaning, relating back to itself. 'That is not dead which can eternal lie,' as in tell a falsehood. Once a lie is allowed to spread its seeds ...

"Your brother was a fan. I imagine he has all of his writings in your library."

Faust sometimes wondered about the Mages of the Mysterium. More than anyone else they knew the value of knowledge and truth. At first she'd been frustrated by this style of meandering answer but the realization had struck her that the answers were for questions she had not thought to ask out loud yet.

And Nitre had just hinted at an answer for the question that burned at the core of her mind. Immortality. There was a way to live forever - or at least, not be dead eternally - that could be reached through the exercise of lies and falsehood.

Could the Devil be deceived?

An answer that made her ask questions that were beyond her context. This was why she was committed to this Order.

"Thank you, Daduchos," Faust said. She had context and direction now; she knew her next step and it would be churlish to ask for more wisdom before she had explored the path she'd been given. "Did you have any -" she caught herself from asking another question. "If you have any further business here, duties to pass down, or even if you would like to stay a while I am at your disposal."

[Anarion]

[Wits+Politics: 4, 8, 9, 4, 8. Three successes.]

Guillaume gives Bof a thoughtful glance as they walk through the pharmacy and a very brief nod in appreciation. Then as they round the corner and see Fleur-Délicieuse, he leans back just slightly, in a relaxed posture, taking in the scene, memorizing the details. Car wreck, angle of the strike, damage to the cafe wall, deployment of the airbags, amount of crumpling in front. All these details would be used later, by the forensic investigators to determine the speed and direction of the car, how control was lost, whose fault it all was. Guillaume was not a forensic scientist, but it was his business to understand these sorts of cases, and he planned to aid in the investigation of the scene. He took out his phone and snapped a photograph, then turned to the woman.

"Mademoiselle. I had no idea that it was possible for you to look more lovely in person than on your various television appearances. How is business? I believe one of my clients recently mentioned your work and was quite complimentary. My deepest apologies that we would be meeting in such circumstances, but perhaps I or one of my colleagues could offer you assistance with the matter at hand?" All very straight-faced, though indeed, Guillaume knows perfectly well that business just had a car drive through the wall in spectacular fashion, and that most likely his offer for assistance would be rejected. But one behaved professionally, nevertheless. It was how these things were done.

[Elanorin]

A woman, making very similar sounds and hair-tearing gestures, stomping the ground and shouting expletives like a hardened sailor at anyone unfortunate enough to be within range. She's pretty but not striking, her clothes showing a very refined - and expensive, very, very expensive - taste with a sense of practicality. She looks ... delectable is the word that instantly presents itself to your mind, and weirdly you're suddenly hungry - for her - an ephemeral scent of some deliciously sweet and complex perfume almost lifting you off your feet by the nose like in those silly American cartoons. [This is not a spell, FYI, but her long-term nimbus. It's only a small impulse, to follow or ignore as you like.]

You've been to enough formal events to recognize her as a chef of some renown, Michelin stars and all that. Haute cuisine isn't your forté, however, so the recognition is only faint. You may vaguely remember her name, Stéphanie Dubois, or maybe you never paid that much attention. Among the Awakened she calls herself Fleur-Délicieuse, but she walks in somewhat different Awakened spheres than you, so I don't think you're familiar with her. I could be wrong, maybe Faust has mentioned her to you.

She turns and fixes her piercing blue eyes on you. They narrow slightly, and there's clearly no love lost there. "You!" she hisses and stalks towards you. She looks about ready to explode when she notices Bof, and a look of disgust crosses her face. "Oh, look, it's the imbécile." She notices Guillaume, and her glare intensifies anew.

"Coucou, Fleur," Bof says, no hint of malice, like merely greeting an old classmate.

"Don't 'coucou' me, crétin," she says and gets right up in Bof's face. Bof is completely unfazed. "You did this. You destroyed my café, my car," it is clear which she cares about more, and it curiously isn't the thing she's actually known for. "Faust put you up to this. I know who my enemies are, oh yes!"

The rather excessive venom being spat at his friends should have instantly made Senna inclined to set himself against this woman but that allure made it hard to dismiss her entirely. His friend stepped up to deal with the walking thunderstorm though so Senna instead took a step back, happy to let Guillaume man the frontline for now. Instead he offered a polite nod to her and a 'signora' and turned to the car. Dreading the hideous look that surely awaited him as he headed over to the café.

While he was far more interested in what had been done to this sublime vehicle, he did also check on the people who had been inside.

[stveje]

Jack looks the boots over carefully, then the legs in those boots, and then the body itself. Hopefully it's still breathing: in fact, once she's gotten to the body, that's the first thing to check. Dead people showing up in your house unannounced are the third worst sorts of uninvited guests, after the overly religious neighbor and your racist uncle, and she wants to figure out who else crashed Chateau Saint-Gilles last night. She studies the visitor carefully, taking her time, and comes to the conclusion that she doesn't know jack (pun intended) about investigation. Luckily, beginner's luck can outweigh skill, some days. Today, however, did not appear to be that day.

The boots are nice. They look artisanal, hand-crafted, real leather. Not that you're an expert on the craftsmanship of boots. Maybe they're actually cheap Chinese knock-offs made from plastic waste, but so what? They're still nice.

The legs are nice too. Wait, no, what am I saying? They're legs to die for, or possibly kill for. They're legs fit for Aphrodite. Actually, you might be looking at the actual, no-kidding Greek Goddess of Beauty and Love here. It's hard to tell, but among all the possible contestants for that role, this woman stands a real chance of winning.

She is unearthly and divine. There are simply no other words for it.

Also, you think she's dead, but there's still a trace of color in her perfect skin. Maybe you can wake her with a kiss ... you know, like in the fairy tales, because I'm not sure you're any better at CPR than you are at investigation.


"Thank you, Daduchos," Faust said. She had context and direction now; she knew her next step and it would be churlish to ask for more wisdom before she had explored the path she'd been given. "Did you have any -" she caught herself from asking another question. "If you have any further business here, duties to pass down, or even if you would like to stay a while I am at your disposal."

Nitre bows ever so slightly, more like a nod, really. "My duties call me elsewhere, but I would be pleased to return another time. You appear to have another guest," he says, and indeed, there's Jack over there ... poking around in the bushes.


[Wits+Politics: 4, 8, 9, 4, 8. Three successes.]

While a crow is a common symbolism in dreams and visions, and could mean any number of things, this one appears to be a unique specimen. *The* Crow, one might even say. The name Corneille is what it brings to mind. It is a name you associate with the Black Assizes, the part of the Concilium dealing with the most serious magical crimes. Mages have a lot of freedom to do very inadvisable things without anyone breathing down their necks, so there aren't many acts that would even count as a serious magical crime, but every once in a while a Mage does cross a burning red line. How to prosecute those cases is not always an easy question.

You're unlikely to ever stand before the Black Assizes, and aside from the fact that they exist they're shrouded in obscurity, but everyone have at least a quiet respect for them. Corneille is one, but the only face you have to put on that name is the Crow. Whoever he is privately is a mystery.

Why he would show up in Bof's dream/vision, or whether it was Corneille himself or just a symbol, would require a deeper examination of Bof's mind.


"Mademoiselle. I had no idea that it was possible for you to look more lovely in person than on your various television appearances. How is business? I believe one of my clients recently mentioned your work and was quite complimentary. My deepest apologies that we would be meeting in such circumstances, but perhaps I or one of my colleagues could offer you assistance with the matter at hand?" All very straight-faced, though indeed, Guillaume knows perfectly well that business just had a car drive through the wall in spectacular fashion, and that most likely his offer for assistance would be rejected. But one behaved professionally, nevertheless. It was how these things were done.


That's 3d10: And I rolled 10, 10, 4. Then 1, 1. So two successes.

Surprisingly, she actually composes herself slightly. Her expression doesn't exactly turn friendly, but she does turn to you with something like a professional respect. "I have my own contacts," she says, and uses the act of straightening her dress to further compose herself. "Perhaps they will be in touch with yours." No doubt it's her boss who knows how these matters are resolved; he holds the money, after all.

"Excuse me," she says and suddenly turns, walking stiffly from the scene. She's clearly deeply upset, even though restrained anger is all she's trying to show right now.


The rather excessive venom being spat at his friends should have instantly made Senna inclined to set himself against this woman but that allure made it hard to dismiss her entirely. His friend stepped up to deal with the walking thunderstorm though so Senna instead took a step back, happy to let Guillaume man the frontline for now. Instead he offered a polite nod to her and a 'signora' and turned to the car. Dreading the hideous look that surely awaited him as he headed over to the café.

While he was far more interested in what had been done to this sublime vehicle, he did also check on the people who had been inside.

Bof follows your example, leaving Guillaume with Fleur-Délicieuse. The wrecked beauty of the car doesn't seem to touch her at all, and she nonchalantly smashes the window in the driver's side so she can wrench open the door and pull out the driver. She does all this with total indifference and ease, like something you do every day and never think about. She leaves the passenger; a glance tells you she's probably beyond Bof's skill to save anyway, although you might be able to knit her together if you act now.

As for the man, he might live, but he won't be whole again. Even you can't regrow a leg (and if you could, it would be stupidly risky doing it right here where anyone can see).

Whether the car can be saved or not doesn't really depend on anything you do or don't do right now. Machines are nice that way, unlike people.

[Thanqol]

Nitre bows ever so slightly, more like a nod, really. "My duties call me elsewhere, but I would be pleased to return another time. You appear to have another guest," he says, and indeed, there's Jack over there ... poking around in the bushes.

"Thank you, master," said Faust.



Then, from immediately behind Jack: "Did you kill a hooker in my rose garden!?"

[Eldest]

Jack jumps, spinning around to face the new threa-oh, it's just Faust. Still threatening, but in a sort of angsty, sad-dog way, threatening to her mood, her vibe. "Maybe? She was like this when I found her. I was only just starting to investigate, and have discerned that she has very nice boots and oh my god legs. If you wouldn't mind doing some of that "don't die" magic you have access to, that would be wonderful." She gestures to the woman. "That is, if she is only mostly dead."

[Thanqol]

Jack jumps, spinning around to face the new threa-oh, it's just Faust. Still threatening, but in a sort of angsty, sad-dog way, threatening to her mood, her vibe. "Maybe? She was like this when I found her. I was only just starting to investigate, and have discerned that she has very nice boots and oh my god legs. If you wouldn't mind doing some of that "don't die" magic you have access to, that would be wonderful." She gestures to the woman. "That is, if she is only mostly dead."

"Oh, very classy Jack," said Faust. "I'm so glad that you took the moment to let us know that you appreciate the dead girl's legs. Information like this will no doubt come in handy at the trial."

She threw a shovel into Jack's arms. "But I knew when I started researching the secrets of magic that I'd end up burying at least one body in the rose garden, so it's not like this is a deal breaker. You dig, I'll start working through our alibi."

[Eldest]

"I'm going to make sure she's, y'know, dead first." Finding a pulse, or a lack of one, shouldn't be too hard, right?

[Thanqol]

"I'm going to make sure she's, y'know, dead first." Finding a pulse, or a lack of one, shouldn't be too hard, right?

"Oh yes, of course" said Faust, "You know what this dead body needs? My fingerprints!"

[Anarion]

"Of course, mademoiselle." Guillaume gives the slightest polite bow and lets Fleur walk off.

The crow is troubling. Black Assizes are all well and good for the function they serve, but those sorts of institutions are not supposes to be proactive. It runs against their basic function: people are discouraged from doing the worst sort of things because they fear discovery and punishment, and those fools who have no such fear are apprehended and restrained for the safety of everyone involved. But the crow, the crow was going out and directing things, ordering Bof to investigate rather than waiting for something to be brought to them. That was the sort of thinking that led to the Seers to their Panopticon, the sort that made nobody feel safe and everyone feel watched. Very troubling.

Guillaume joins the others at the car. Oddly, he appears to be the only mechanically-minded of the group, so he activates matter sight to get a sense of the composition and state of the car.

[stveje]

"I'm going to make sure she's, y'know, dead first." Finding a pulse, or a lack of one, shouldn't be too hard, right?

Checking for a pulse falls under the general investigation you just did, so the result hasn't changed. Finding a pulse can be more difficult than it sounds when you don't know what you're doing, you might feel around and not find any pulse even on an obviously living person, which should honestly make you conclude that zombies walk amongst us (but that's no surprise to a Mage)

You'll have to do something beyond basic investigation to get any new information, like invite someone with actual dots in medicine to come have a look, or poke her with a sharp object, or ... you tell me.

Or you can just get rid of the body.


Guillaume joins the others at the car. Oddly, he appears to be the only mechanically-minded of the group, so he activates matter sight to get a sense of the composition and state of the car.

The car is missing several pieces, including - most importantly - the brakes. Someone with at least some mechanics skill removed them entirely, as there are no obvious magic signatures on the car. There's no clear rhyme or reason behind the choice of parts that were removed: if you wanted to make it crash, you could have done it more easily without completely removing the brakes, and if you were after valuable stuff to steal, you would have been much better off just taking the whole car.

Some possibilities:

1. Fleur knew the car was missing pieces, ...
1.1 ... but didn't expect the unfortunate driver to break in and take it for a joyride with his girlfriend.
1.2 ... and either knew someone would steal it or actually compelled him to do it.

2. Fleur didn't know the car was missing pieces ...
2.1 ... Someone broke in, took the pieces, and left the car, perhaps hoping Fleur would be driving it. Instead, someone else broke in and stole the car, not knowing it was missing its brakes.
2.2 Someone broke in, stole the car, took the pieces, and left the car somewhere (knowingly or not) for the unfortunate driver to find.

[Elanorin]

Bof follows your example, leaving Guillaume with Fleur-Délicieuse. The wrecked beauty of the car doesn't seem to touch her at all, and she nonchalantly smashes the window in the driver's side so she can wrench open the door and pull out the driver. She does all this with total indifference and ease, like something you do every day and never think about.

"Che diavolo?!" The car!" Senna cries at Bof, stood with shards cascading around her feet. Her complete lack of disrespect has sealed it - he did not like her. "Is it not bad enough?" he demanded.


She leaves the passenger; a glance tells you she's probably beyond Bof's skill to save anyway, although you might be able to knit her together if you act now.

As for the man, he might live, but he won't be whole again. Even you can't regrow a leg (and if you could, it would be stupidly risky doing it right here where anyone can see).

Whether the car can be saved or not doesn't really depend on anything you do or don't do right now. Machines are nice that way, unlike people.

It's with a sour face that Senna tries to get the passenger door open without breaking anything. Perhaps she was beyond saving, it happens. It was not so much a concern for the passenger's life that drove him now, but a desire to mirror Bof's actions but in a way that displayed How It Should Be Done.

[stveje]

"Che diavolo?!" The car!" Senna cries at Bof, stood with shards cascading around her feet. Her complete lack of disrespect has sealed it - he did not like her. "Is it not bad enough?" he demanded.

I'm sure Bof is sufficiently crushed that you don't like her.

She just shrugs.


It's with a sour face that Senna tries to get the passenger door open without breaking anything. Perhaps she was beyond saving, it happens. It was not so much a concern for the passenger's life that drove him now, but a desire to mirror Bof's actions but in a way that displayed How It Should Be Done.

Sure, you could just break it open. I mean, it would be easier, but let's see if you can get her out without breaking anything: roll Dexterity+Larceny to get the door open without breaking the window.

[Eldest]

"Oh yes, of course" said Faust, "You know what this dead body needs? My fingerprints!"

"Are you, or are you not, a Mage of Death? Is she dead? If she isn't, can you stop that for a bit so she can be saved, and we can find out why there is a strange woman in your garden, and hopefully not be dragged into a criminal investigation? And will you do those things?" She aims a level gaze at Faust.

[Anarion]

“The insurance agency will never believe it. A car without any breaking system at all.” Guillaume observes, wisely letting Senna vent his anguish without interfering. He could open the door if Senna asked, of course. “I imagine they’ll just hold Fleur liable for the whole thing, unless she can produce proof of sabotage. He gives Bof an appropriate helpless shrug.

[Thanqol]

"Are you, or are you not, a Mage of Death? Is she dead? If she isn't, can you stop that for a bit so she can be saved, and we can find out why there is a strange woman in your garden, and hopefully not be dragged into a criminal investigation? And will you do those things?" She aims a level gaze at Faust.

"O-of course I am!" said Faust. "But the Mysteries are too subtle for vulgar usage when wiser alternatives are available. There is no reason I cannot do this using temporal means."

"Hey, Satan Lord of Lies, do you know what's going on here?" she frantically thought telepathically to her ever-present ally. The Prince of Darkness leaned down over her shoulder and began whispering secrets in her ear.

[Mind 3: Enhance Skill with Rote 6,9,2,2,6,8,6,3,3; 2 successes, moves Investigation from 2 to 5.
Wits+Investigation 6: 8,6,5,10,6,7, - 8 on the 10 again, 3 successes total]

[stveje]

“The insurance agency will never believe it. A car without any breaking system at all.” Guillaume observes, wisely letting Senna vent his anguish without interfering. He could open the door if Senna asked, of course. “I imagine they’ll just hold Fleur liable for the whole thing, unless she can produce proof of sabotage. He gives Bof an appropriate helpless shrug.

"They probably will," Bof agrees, like she's given it some thought herself. She sounds ... sad?


"O-of course I am!" said Faust. "But the Mysteries are too subtle for vulgar usage when wiser alternatives are available. There is no reason I cannot do this using temporal means."

"Hey, Satan Lord of Lies, do you know what's going on here?" she frantically thought telepathically to her ever-present ally. The Prince of Darkness leaned down over her shoulder and began whispering secrets in her ear.

[Mind 3: Enhance Skill with Rote 6,9,2,2,6,8,6,3,3; 2 successes, moves Investigation from 2 to 5.
Wits+Investigation 6: 8,6,5,10,6,7, - 8 on the 10 again, 3 successes total]

"Out of this world," the Devil whispers over your shoulder like some lecherous old snake salivating at the sight. Yet you know better than to take the Devil's words at face value; in this case they're literal - not a reference to the stranger's unearthly beauty but to her origin: not of this world. You're looking at something fey, at the very least kin to fairies. It's not your specialty, but ironically it might be Jack's ...

Notions of Life and Death have little bearing on this. Is she dead? No, but neither is she alive. Sleeping, Dreaming ... these are better words. There is something here of what Nitre was talking, even ... that which can eternal lie.

"Offer her up to Me, and you'll be rewarded," the Serpent whispers. You have no doubt the Devil would commit unspeakable atrocities with her, but deals with the Devil are never pleasant, and weren't you going to just bury her anyway? But perhaps it's too soon ... the stranger might appreciate in value if you wait and sell at the right moment ...

[Thanqol]

"Out of this world," the Devil whispers over your shoulder like some lecherous old snake salivating at the sight. Yet you know better than to take the Devil's words at face value; in this case they're literal - not a reference to the stranger's unearthly beauty but to her origin: not of this world. You're looking at something fey, at the very least kin to fairies. It's not your specialty, but ironically it might be Jack's ...

Notions of Life and Death have little bearing on this. Is she dead? No, but neither is she alive. Sleeping, Dreaming ... these are better words. There is something here of what Nitre was talking, even ... that which can eternal lie.

"Offer her up to Me, and you'll be rewarded," the Serpent whispers. You have no doubt the Devil would commit unspeakable atrocities with her, but deals with the Devil are never pleasant, and weren't you going to just bury her anyway? But perhaps it's too soon ... the stranger might appreciate in value if you wait and sell at the right moment ...

The answer isn't 'no' - it's not even the instinctual, reflexive 'no' society trains people to have when the Devil offers you a deal. That bridge has been crossed. It is too late for the girl named Faust to stand on principle.

The dearly purchased lesson of recent days and months, though, is that you should not sell something that you do not know the true value of. Knowledge is power. The Devil has all the knowledge here. Faust would not even know if she was getting scammed. Sell your soul if you want, but make sure you understand what you are losing and what you are gaining.

"Jack," said Faust. "Why do you need me to tell you that you're looking at a Faerie here? An entity of Arcadia, perhaps locked in some form of eternal slumber. My first instinct is to delve into her Astral realm and see what she's dreaming about, or possibly sacrifice her in a bloody ritual to the Lord of Darkness, but you do theoretically have a better angle on this than I do."

[Elanorin]

Sure, you could just break it open. I mean, it would be easier, but let's see if you can get her out without breaking anything: roll Dexterity+Larceny to get the door open without breaking the window.

[Rolling Dexterity+Larceny, (taking -1 for unskilled) to open the car door without breaking anything: 6, 9]

[stveje]

[Rolling Dexterity+Larceny, (taking -1 for unskilled) to open the car door without breaking anything: 6, 9]

You get the door open and pull the woman out without breaking anything. Bof - maybe a little too consciously - says nothing. Will you try to read her reaction (Wits+Empathy), or is your success enough for you?

Anyway, what now? You've got a young woman very near death here.

[Anarion]

You get the door open and pull the woman out without breaking anything. Bof - maybe a little too consciously - says nothing. Will you try to read her reaction (Wits+Empathy), or is your success enough for you?

Anyway, what now? You've got a young woman very near death here.

Presumably, with an accident like this, emergency services have already been called, yes? There doesn't seem to be much for Guillaume to do here. He'd only get in the way and has no talent for healing, save for staying out of Senna's way. He puts a comforting hand on Bof. He's not sure why exactly, he's hardly in such a relationship as to be the right person to assuage Bof's sadness. But he's here and it seems the thing to do.

[Eldest]

Jack waves a finger. "Let's avoid that sacrifice thing, let sleeping gods lie and all that. At least, till you know how they react when poked, yes? Speaking of which..." She peers at the slumbering lady, opening herself to the Truth.

[Thanqol]

Jack waves a finger. "Let's avoid that sacrifice thing, let sleeping gods lie and all that. At least, till you know how they react when poked, yes? Speaking of which..." She peers at the slumbering lady, opening herself to the Truth.

"Hmm," says Faust, looking deeply at Jack as Jack looks at the sleeping beauty. She wouldn't put it past slumbering deities to do some reflexive mind control - or for Jack to get abruptly hormonal - so she wanted to keep a close eye on both.

[I'm looking to read surface emotions and auras, but if there's a roll involved I wiffed it]

[Elanorin]

You get the door open and pull the woman out without breaking anything. Bof - maybe a little too consciously - says nothing. Will you try to read her reaction (Wits+Empathy), or is your success enough for you?

Anyway, what now? You've got a young woman very near death here.

No, he wants to know if his display has had the desired effect: [Wits+Empathy= 8, 9]

After a couple of quick glances in Bof's direction Senna slides down with his back against the car, the woman lying half on the ground, half in his arms. He feels little compassion, but a surge of determination nonetheless. It could be this was her time. It could be she deserved this fate. But he's already set on a course to show Bof up and without much thinking goes about searching for the woman's purse and credit card with quick hands.

[Looking to cast Knit here, using her credit card as a yantra, any penalties?]

[stveje]

Presumably, with an accident like this, emergency services have already been called, yes? There doesn't seem to be much for Guillaume to do here. He'd only get in the way and has no talent for healing, save for staying out of Senna's way. He puts a comforting hand on Bof. He's not sure why exactly, he's hardly in such a relationship as to be the right person to assuage Bof's sadness. But he's here and it seems the thing to do.

True. The first siren can already be heard; we're talking purely first aid here.

Bof accepts the hand on her shoulder with a small nod of appreciation and stands. She's done what she can for the man, the rest is up to the paramedics when they arrive in a moment.

"Fleur will never be happy until she learns to fight back," she says. "She expects everything to come to her, but she doesn't see, the hand that feeds her is cursed and everything it touches is tainted with the same curse." You feel she's not speaking metaphorically here. She's saying Fleur's patron and all they touch is cursed.


No, he wants to know if his display has had the desired effect: [Wits+Empathy= 8, 9]

She thinks you're silly and unenlightened for caring about the car, clearly. Not that she expects you to care more about the people - sometimes people die, every Arrow understands that, and she's not crying for them even if she at least does what she can for this man. If she's sad for anyone, it's Fleur. You also feel certain that she wanted the car totally wrecked. She may even have "encouraged" its destruction, you wouldn't put it past her.

As for your display ... she doesn't care that you showed her up, in fact she appreciates how you made it look easy and she's fine letting you have that victory. If you'd failed, she'd have been rolling her eyes at you for trying too hard, but because you actually pulled it off she's ... proud of you? In a way.

I mean, you're still stupid and unenlightened, of course.


After a couple of quick glances in Bof's direction Senna slides down with his back against the car, the woman lying half on the ground, half in his arms. He feels little compassion, but a surge of determination nonetheless. It could be this was her time. It could be she deserved this fate. But he's already set on a course to show Bof up and without much thinking goes about searching for the woman's purse and credit card with quick hands.

[Looking to cast Knit here, using her credit card as a yantra, any penalties?]

The woman has a surprising amount of credit cards in her purse. They aren't yours, but you don't think they're all hers either. Take your pick, but you only have time to use the one yantra if you want to save her, she's losing blood quickly.

*

No penalty, but there are Sleeper witnesses (+1 to your Paradox pool). Also, you need to spend at least two Reach on this (one for Instant casting, plus one to heal Lethal damage), which is one more than the free reach you get for this spell (another +1 to your Paradox pool). I don't think you need any more Reach than that, but let me know if you've got something in mind.

You must decide whether to contain the Paradox, should one occur, or just let it happen. You can also spend Mana to reduce the Paradox pool.

Also, go ahead and roll for the spell itself (Gnosis + Life + 1 for the card).


Jack waves a finger. "Let's avoid that sacrifice thing, let sleeping gods lie and all that. At least, till you know how they react when poked, yes? Speaking of which..." She peers at the slumbering lady, opening herself to the Truth.

How do you perceive Fate? What does Fate look and feel like to your enlightened senses?

*

There's nothing there. Not literally, because the lady is definitely there, but as far as Fate is concerned she's a hole in the weave, but like a dry sponge on a wet floor she's slowly drawing fates to her. The edges of her emptiness slowly knit itself into something. She may be next to nothing now, but there's no telling what she might Become. She's got Potential. Loads of potential. It's a big sponge. Okay, all these analogies are getting weird real fast ...

She also didn't exist a moment ago. She seems to have appeared in the garden along with the man who just left, the one Faust was just talking to. Or maybe it's more precise to say she appeared along with the flower that he gave to the groundskeeper. When that flower came to this garden, the woman came with it. At the same time, at least. Before that, she was literally Nothing. Now she is fast becoming Something.


"Hmm," says Faust, looking deeply at Jack as Jack looks at the sleeping beauty. She wouldn't put it past slumbering deities to do some reflexive mind control - or for Jack to get abruptly hormonal - so she wanted to keep a close eye on both.

[I'm looking to read surface emotions and auras, but if there's a roll involved I wiffed it]

Reading surface thoughts is beyond simple Mind vision, so that's a spell. Trying to read the woman's surface thoughts is like trying to read a book in the dark, and you forgot to bring a flashlight. Worse, you seem to be losing your own surface thoughts, like the feeling where you can't remember what you were just thinking about (Condition: Forgetful). This doesn't affect long-term memory, just what you're thinking at any given moment.

As for Jack's surface thoughts, it's contested by Composure, so that's a different roll but there are no consequences for failing (other than maybe annoying Jack). I'd let Jack herself tell you about that, however.

[Anarion]

To the extent he can, Guillaume will position himself between Senna and the onlookers (using the car as a blocker on the other side) so that as few people as possible are looking at any spell that might be cast. And then he'll wait and see.

[Thanqol]

Reading surface thoughts is beyond simple Mind vision, so that's a spell. Trying to read the woman's surface thoughts is like trying to read a book in the dark, and you forgot to bring a flashlight. Worse, you seem to be losing your own surface thoughts, like the feeling where you can't remember what you were just thinking about (Condition: Forgetful). This doesn't affect long-term memory, just what you're thinking at any given moment.

As for Jack's surface thoughts, it's contested by Composure, so that's a different roll but there are no consequences for failing (other than maybe annoying Jack). I'd let Jack herself tell you about that, however.

No successes on Jack's roll either. Faust may have overestimated her abilities.

[Elanorin]

She thinks you're silly and unenlightened for caring about the car, clearly. Not that she expects you to care more about the people - sometimes people die, every Arrow understands that, and she's not crying for them even if she at least does what she can for this man. If she's sad for anyone, it's Fleur. You also feel certain that she wanted the car totally wrecked. She may even have "encouraged" its destruction, you wouldn't put it past her.

As for your display ... she doesn't care that you showed her up, in fact she appreciates how you made it look easy and she's fine letting you have that victory. If you'd failed, she'd have been rolling her eyes at you for trying too hard, but because you actually pulled it off she's ... proud of you? In a way.

I mean, you're still stupid and unenlightened, of course.

The woman has a surprising amount of credit cards in her purse. They aren't yours, but you don't think they're all hers either. Take your pick, but you only have time to use the one yantra if you want to save her, she's losing blood quickly.

*

No penalty, but there are Sleeper witnesses (+1 to your Paradox pool). Also, you need to spend at least two Reach on this (one for Instant casting, plus one to heal Lethal damage), which is one more than the free reach you get for this spell (another +1 to your Paradox pool). I don't think you need any more Reach than that, but let me know if you've got something in mind.

You must decide whether to contain the Paradox, should one occur, or just let it happen. You can also spend Mana to reduce the Paradox pool.

Also, go ahead and roll for the spell itself (Gnosis + Life + 1 for the card).


Senna grabs the first available credit card and presses it against one of her many wounds, like a makeshift and utterly unabsorbent bandage and through it draws the wound to close, covering what he's doing as much as possible by leaning down close. He was not about to give Bof the satisfaction of seeing him make a mistake.

[Rolling to cast Knit: 9, 10, 10, 2, 3 (ten again: 3, 3), will seek to contain any Paradox: 1, 5, 9, 2, 3, 6, 7]

[stveje]

Senna grabs the first available credit card and presses it against one of her many wounds, like a makeshift and utterly unabsorbent bandage and through it draws the wound to close, covering what he's doing as much as possible by leaning down close. He was not about to give Bof the satisfaction of seeing him make a mistake.

[Rolling to cast Knit: 9, 10, 10, 2, 3 (ten again: 3, 3), will seek to contain any Paradox: 1, 5, 9, 2, 3, 6, 7]

Paradox: 10, 7, ten again 6. That's one success, countered by yours. Take one resistant bashing damage, and that's all.

The wounds begin to knit, and you feel the Abyss drawing in - hungry - as scaled eyes and cold, glassy lenses swarm around the scene like idiot moths to an open flame. You push it away, deny it more than a lick of your soul, and then the first responders are here, shooing everyone away, closing off the scene so they can work. The woman is still in a terrible shape, but she'll live.

"My part is done," Bof says, but sounds like she might be willing to help further, if either of you asks. Or not, whatever. "The car wasn't his, but Myel Saint-Gilles had something to do with this," she offers as a final gift of insight to Senna.

[Eldest]

How do you perceive Fate? What does Fate look and feel like to your enlightened senses?

There's nothing there. Not literally, because the lady is definitely there, but as far as Fate is concerned she's a hole in the weave, but like a dry sponge on a wet floor she's slowly drawing fates to her. The edges of her emptiness slowly knit itself into something. She may be next to nothing now, but there's no telling what she might Become. She's got Potential. Loads of potential. It's a big sponge. Okay, all these analogies are getting weird real fast ...

She also didn't exist a moment ago. She seems to have appeared in the garden along with the man who just left, the one Faust was just talking to. Or maybe it's more precise to say she appeared along with the flower that he gave to the groundskeeper. When that flower came to this garden, the woman came with it. At the same time, at least. Before that, she was literally Nothing. Now she is fast becoming Something.

Ever seen one of those stringboards that the media loves to show conspiracy theorists using? When she looks at Fate, she's inside one. Follow the string about, get little blurbs about what's going on, make the connections. Make sense of it all.

Meanwhile, the Maybe-Deity has no strings. None. And then she's latching on strings to Jack, to Faust, to the garden... it's enough to make her jerk back in shock. "Who brought that flower? She's the flower, the flower begat her, it's all a beautiful paradox."

[Thanqol]

Ever seen one of those stringboards that the media loves to show conspiracy theorists using? When she looks at Fate, she's inside one. Follow the string about, get little blurbs about what's going on, make the connections. Make sense of it all.

Meanwhile, the Maybe-Deity has no strings. None. And then she's latching on strings to Jack, to Faust, to the garden... it's enough to make her jerk back in shock. "Who brought that flower? She's the flower, the flower begat her, it's all a beautiful paradox."

"Are we referring to paradox in the 'totally normal time loop' sense, or in the 'ten thousand hungering children of the sunless ocean' sense?" asked Faust. "One requires a more immediate response than the other."

[Eldest]

Jack frowns and purses her lips. "She was Nothing, but wants to be Something." She says, enunciating the capitals clearly. "Nothing simply does not become Something, so I suppose the second one? She certainly wasn't Anything before the flower got here, not even Nothing."

[Anarion]

Paradox: 10, 7, ten again 6. That's one success, countered by yours. Take one resistant bashing damage, and that's all.

The wounds begin to knit, and you feel the Abyss drawing in - hungry - as scaled eyes and cold, glassy lenses swarm around the scene like idiot moths to an open flame. You push it away, deny it more than a lick of your soul, and then the first responders are here, shooing everyone away, closing off the scene so they can work. The woman is still in a terrible shape, but she'll live.

"My part is done," Bof says, but sounds like she might be willing to help further, if either of you asks. Or not, whatever. "The car wasn't his, but Myel Saint-Gilles had something to do with this," she offers as a final gift of insight to Senna.

"Is there a safe place to chat?" Guillaume asks Bof quietly. "I'd so very much like to, my treat for any meal, of course."

[Thanqol]

Jack frowns and purses her lips. "She was Nothing, but wants to be Something." She says, enunciating the capitals clearly. "Nothing simply does not become Something, so I suppose the second one? She certainly wasn't Anything before the flower got here, not even Nothing."

"I am currently maintaining a magical spell that allows me to comprehend literally any language on the face of the planet and even I can't figure out what the f*ck you're on about," said Faust. "Look, just, shut up and help me get her inside. I'll crack open her Astral Realm and we'll find out from the horse's mouth what this is all about."

[Elanorin]

"My part is done," Bof says, but sounds like she might be willing to help further, if either of you asks. Or not, whatever. "The car wasn't his, but Myel Saint-Gilles had something to do with this," she offers as a final gift of insight to Senna.

When the emergency responders shoved him aside Senna let go and let them have at it. He knew he'd made the difference and he stood proud when he got back on his feet, walking up to stand next to Guillaume.

The mention of the familiar name caused him to instinctively cross his arms over his chest defensively.

"He's involved how?" he snapped a bit harsher than he'd intended.

[stveje]

"Is there a safe place to chat?" Guillaume asks Bof quietly. "I'd so very much like to, my treat for any meal, of course."


When the emergency responders shoved him aside Senna let go and let them have at it. He knew he'd made the difference and he stood proud when he got back on his feet, walking up to stand next to Guillaume.

The mention of the familiar name caused him to instinctively cross his arms over his chest defensively.

"He's involved how?" he snapped a bit harsher than he'd intended.

Bof shrugs. To both of your questions. It's amazing how versatile an expression it is. Then she looks around, and starts walking, waving for you to follow. You pass several cafés that'd probably serve, but Bof just walks right past them all. Then again, there are a lot of people, so maybe it's for the best. Five minutes later you're walking the perimeter of the ancient Roman amphitheater. Bof pauses to pet a stray cat, then directs you to an inconspicuous doorway. She holds the door, and you all step through ... into a time and place seemingly far removed from the present city. You're inside the Arena is it was, back in the 1800s: a small, densely packed town crammed inside the former amphitheater. Or a shadow of it, perhaps.

Bof leads you to a small secluded establishment at the back of a tiny alley and finds a table in one of the corners. A boar's head stares with glassy black eyes at you from above the entrance. Or perhaps it's looking at the body of its fellow pig, rotating on a spit in the fireplace. The head looks a bit dusty, and is that a cobweb between its tusks? The one on the spit at least looks and smells fresh. A large red-wooded harp stands in the other corner and appears to be playing on its own, its golden strings strumming a sweet melody of longing and love.


"I am currently maintaining a magical spell that allows me to comprehend literally any language on the face of the planet and even I can't figure out what the f*ck you're on about," said Faust. "Look, just, shut up and help me get her inside. I'll crack open her Astral Realm and we'll find out from the horse's mouth what this is all about."

Bodies are heavy and inconvenient when they're all limp and unresponsive, but together you get her inside. Now what?

[Thanqol]

Bodies are heavy and inconvenient when they're all limp and unresponsive, but together you get her inside. Now what?

A shower. Physical labour is terrible and Faust never intends to do it ever again.

After that it's time for satanic rituals!

As an Adept of Mind, Faust specializes in dealing with the Astral Realm and the goetic demons that torment and comprise every broken soul in this fallen world. Some situations call for drawing them forth from the realms of imagination they hail from and interrogating, commanding or banishing them - but this, she thinks, calls for the opposite approach. She wants to use her sorcery and meditation to bring her and Jack down into the Astral Realm - the dream landscape, the Inceptionverse - of this sleeping figure. And while dealing with dreams isn't safe it's a lot safer than waking up sleeping Nothing-Somethings.

After all, one of the subtle truths about Awakening is that there's no obvious way to put things back to sleep.

[Anarion]

Bof leads you to a small secluded establishment at the back of a tiny alley and finds a table in one of the corners. A boar's head stares with glassy black eyes at you from above the entrance. Or perhaps it's looking at the body of its fellow pig, rotating on a spit in the fireplace. The head looks a bit dusty, and is that a cobweb between its tusks? The one on the spit at least looks and smells fresh. A large red-wooded harp stands in the other corner and appears to be playing on its own, its golden strings strumming a sweet melody of longing and love.


Guillaume looks around the establishment approvingly. People in the modern world try so hard for this sort of old aesthetic. The smell of the roasting boar is delicious, the harp is a nice touch, and the fact that Bof recommended this speaks volumes. If Bof acknowledges that this is now a safe place to speak, then Guillaume will look at the two of them and begin.

"Ravens ought not to be flying around freely making demands. They ought to be guarding their nests and watching what the world brings to them. So, tell me, why is a Raven making demands of a cat?"

[Elanorin]

Senna follows, arms still crossed over his chest and his face disapproving but comes along nonetheless. As the other two sit down, he follows suit and grabs a chair to join them, quickly crossing his arms once more and leans back, waiting for her to answer his question.

As his friend speaks Senna's face drops a little and his eyes dart back and forth between Guillaume and Bof as the strange feeling of his day out with his friend was quickly evaporating. There were tangible little bursts of fifth wheel feelings popping in to his mind and they only made him resent Bof more.

[stveje]

A shower. Physical labour is terrible and Faust never intends to do it ever again.

After that it's time for satanic rituals!

As an Adept of Mind, Faust specializes in dealing with the Astral Realm and the goetic demons that torment and comprise every broken soul in this fallen world. Some situations call for drawing them forth from the realms of imagination they hail from and interrogating, commanding or banishing them - but this, she thinks, calls for the opposite approach. She wants to use her sorcery and meditation to bring her and Jack down into the Astral Realm - the dream landscape, the Inceptionverse - of this sleeping figure. And while dealing with dreams isn't safe it's a lot safer than waking up sleeping Nothing-Somethings.

After all, one of the subtle truths about Awakening is that there's no obvious way to put things back to sleep.

Sounds like a perfectly good Bad Idea, worthy of an Arcane XP.

How do you go about this?


Guillaume looks around the establishment approvingly. People in the modern world try so hard for this sort of old aesthetic. The smell of the roasting boar is delicious, the harp is a nice touch, and the fact that Bof recommended this speaks volumes. If Bof acknowledges that this is now a safe place to speak, then Guillaume will look at the two of them and begin.

"Ravens ought not to be flying around freely making demands. They ought to be guarding their nests and watching what the world brings to them. So, tell me, why is a Raven making demands of a cat?"

Bof gives a little shrug, like she's trying to find the right way to discuss it. "I don't know," she says. "He's been following me around since I came back ... I was abroad for a while," she explains without elaborating. "It's the first time he's made any contact ... not exactly a demand, more like a hint, I thought. I was curious, and thought it was best to see what he wanted."


Senna follows, arms still crossed over his chest and his face disapproving but comes along nonetheless. As the other two sit down, he follows suit and grabs a chair to join them, quickly crossing his arms once more and leans back, waiting for her to answer his question.

As his friend speaks Senna's face drops a little and his eyes dart back and forth between Guillaume and Bof as the strange feeling of his day out with his friend was quickly evaporating. There were tangible little bursts of fifth wheel feelings popping in to his mind and they only made him resent Bof more.

Something that first seemed like a decorative carving on the harp spreads a pair of tiny angel wings and flies across the room, hovering next to you for attention. Neither Bof nor Guillaume see the spirit, a weird little sad Cupid carved in wood.

[Elanorin]

Something that first seemed like a decorative carving on the harp spreads a pair of tiny angel wings and flies across the room, hovering next to you for attention. Neither Bof nor Guillaume see the spirit, a weird little sad Cupid carved in wood.

Senna gives the little cupid a don't you dare look but says nothing as he follows its movements with his eyes.

He highly doubted these two needed any help but it would be just his goddamn luck if they got it. What was with today? He was sorely tempted to cut his losses and just go home and back to bed and hope for a better tomorrow.

No. Not home.

He got his phone out and typed a quick message, only half listening to the whatever the other two were talking about enough to catch if Myel was mentioned again.


To Elvira:

Can I come over?

L

[stveje]

Senna gives the little cupid a don't you dare look but says nothing as he follows its movements with his eyes.

The Cupid waves at you, and towards the stairs. It looks like it wants you to follow, maybe it wants to show you something. Or lure you away. Who knows.

[Thanqol]

Sounds like a perfectly good Bad Idea, worthy of an Arcane XP.

How do you go about this?

Blood. Infinite in use and symbolism, the water of life.

For all it's importance, Elvira had almost never seen actual, real blood before becoming a Mage. Even as a child the usual assortment of scrapes and cuts had never seemed to break her skin. Thinking about it know, the little ruby drop the Devil had drawn from her finger when it came time to sign the contract had been the first time she'd ever seen the stuff - so was it the signing of the contract or the sight of blood that had shocked her into the hidden truths?

Questions for later. A gentle needle draws a few drops from the arm of the sleeping creature. Some of it is stored and refrigerated in another room - who knows how much that component will be worth later? One single drop is allowed to fall on a white marble ball, where it mixes with one drop of her own blood, and one drop of Jack's. The fluid flows together, indistinguishable, and so the dreams are entwined in turn.


He got his phone out and typed a quick message, only half listening to the whatever the other two were talking about enough to catch if Myel was mentioned again.

F*ck.

Faust stops just on the verge of sleep - hesitating. Then puts through a response. Just what comes naturally.

> Yes.
> Doing a dream ritual, might be asleep.

[Eldest]

In between the blood being drawn, Jack raids the house for booze: she needs her hip flask refilled, and they have better booze here than her own place. After taking a small sip, she pauses and looks forward in time, winding her pocketwatch forward slowly, seeing if feeding the woman the bourbon would wake her up or otherwise affect her.

[Reach for instant cast, reach for better answers, Divination, resounding 1 success, "does the spellcasting wake her up?"]

Assuming the answer is a negative, she pours a tiny amount of the bourbon into the woman's mouth, before spelling out the casting in High Speech, looking back to when the mystery flower arrived and the woman arrived/appeared/came into being, eyes wide open for Fate and Time's influence on the events.

[Reach for instant cast, reach for video-controls, Postcognition, again 1 success]

Following this, as long as nothing comes up that would disrupt the ritual, she takes back her flask from the woman's hands and pockets it, before allowing herself to fall asleep.

[Anarion]

Bof gives a little shrug, like she's trying to find the right way to discuss it. "I don't know," she says. "He's been following me around since I came back ... I was abroad for a while," she explains without elaborating. "It's the first time he's made any contact ... not exactly a demand, more like a hint, I thought. I was curious, and thought it was best to see what he wanted."


Not being aware of the angel, Guillaume continues. "And...I am aware that you have not necessarily positioned yourself to make inquiries, but surely there is something unique that leads to the interest in you. A particular set of competencies or contacts, perhaps. I am looking for just what to make of all this?"

Guillaume remarks on Senna's phone buzzing, but does not inquire at the moment.

[Elanorin]

> Yes.
> Doing a dream ritual, might be asleep.

Senna fails to entirely hide a private smile at the reply as it popped up. She seemed in a good mood. Perhaps today was about to take a turn for the better.


The Cupid waves at you, and towards the stairs. It looks like it wants you to follow, maybe it wants to show you something. Or lure you away. Who knows.

With his mood suddenly turning towards the better he's willing to give the little cupid the benefit of a doubt and gets up and follows it with the same unannounced ease of one heading towards the facilities, which he might, on his way back.

[Anarion]

With his mood suddenly turning towards the better he's willing to give the little cupid the benefit of a doubt and gets up and follows it with the same unannounced ease of one heading towards the facilities, which he might, on his way back.

Guillaume gives you a questioning look as you stand, but makes no move to stop you.

[stveje]

In between the blood being drawn, Jack raids the house for booze: she needs her hip flask refilled, and they have better booze here than her own place. After taking a small sip, she pauses and looks forward in time, winding her pocketwatch forward slowly, seeing if feeding the woman the bourbon would wake her up or otherwise affect her.

[Reach for instant cast, reach for better answers, Divination, resounding 1 success, "does the spellcasting wake her up?"]

Assuming the answer is a negative, she pours a tiny amount of the bourbon into the woman's mouth, before spelling out the casting in High Speech, looking back to when the mystery flower arrived and the woman arrived/appeared/came into being, eyes wide open for Fate and Time's influence on the events.

[Reach for instant cast, reach for video-controls, Postcognition, again 1 success]

Following this, as long as nothing comes up that would disrupt the ritual, she takes back her flask from the woman's hands and pockets it, before allowing herself to fall asleep.

You feed the woman the bourbon, sure it won't wake her - almost seems a waste, doesn't it? Nevertheless, you turn your sight backwards, to the exchange of the flower between Nitre and Perceval. That's when she appeared, right there and then.

There are no Timey-Wimey shenanigans here, nor is Nitre pulling the threads of Fate in any way here. Maybe he isn't even aware of what's going on with Fate: the only way I can explain it is that the woman is a necessary consequence of the flower being here. Like yin and yang, if you have one then you must necessarily get the other too. It's not that one cannot exist without the other, it's this: as long as one exists, the other will by Necessity exist too.

I'm going to ask you for the same Wits+Composure roll I asked of Faust.


Blood. Infinite in use and symbolism, the water of life.

For all it's importance, Elvira had almost never seen actual, real blood before becoming a Mage. Even as a child the usual assortment of scrapes and cuts had never seemed to break her skin. Thinking about it know, the little ruby drop the Devil had drawn from her finger when it came time to sign the contract had been the first time she'd ever seen the stuff - so was it the signing of the contract or the sight of blood that had shocked her into the hidden truths?

Questions for later. A gentle needle draws a few drops from the arm of the sleeping creature. Some of it is stored and refrigerated in another room - who knows how much that component will be worth later? One single drop is allowed to fall on a white marble ball, where it mixes with one drop of her own blood, and one drop of Jack's. The fluid flows together, indistinguishable, and so the dreams are entwined in turn.

At first there is nothing ... then the nothing is something. You can tell because you're standing, and standing requires at a minimum a notion of up and down and something to stand on. You are standing on something black but undeniably solid. Also, weirdly, you know it to be square despite the fact that it's black all the way around you ... no horizon, just black, because that's how the mind represents Nothing. So how can you tell that the black you're standing on is square when everything is black? A question for philosophers, or possibly cats.

Then there are other squares, all black, in a pattern. And once there is a pattern of black squares there must, by Necessity, be a matching pattern of non-black squares. We shall call these non-black squares "white", by convention.

You are standing on a seemingly infinite Chess board, infinite not only in the usual directions, but in all of Space, more dimensions than the Sleeping mind can comprehend. But yours has no such trouble.

There you are, then, on your black square, and the Dream just became aware of you. "What is this ..." she asks herself, like someone who's just noticed something on the floor and bowed down for a closer look.


Not being aware of the angel, Guillaume continues. "And...I am aware that you have not necessarily positioned yourself to make inquiries, but surely there is something unique that leads to the interest in you. A particular set of competencies or contacts, perhaps. I am looking for just what to make of all this?"

Bof shrugs and falls silent as an elderly, heavyset man comes out from the back with a caraffe of wine and a plate of fresh bread, setting it on your table. He takes your order with a reticent silence, then returns to the back with a sombre side-eye to the harp.

Bof takes a healthy drink of her wine, then another. "It's nothing," she says finally, watching Senna leave. "Don't bother." Clearly there's something here she's not too keen on getting too deeply into.


With his mood suddenly turning towards the better he's willing to give the little cupid the benefit of a doubt and gets up and follows it with the same unannounced ease of one heading towards the facilities, which he might, on his way back.

You follow the Cupid up a creaky, dark stairwell. You walk up several floors, even though you're certain the building wasn't nearly as tall as that. The stairs twist and split, here and there a door or a corridor, then more stairs. Finally, the Cupid lands above an open door, hanging upside down from the ancient wooden frame, peeking inside.

The room beyond is cramped, nearly every bit of space taken up by a marionette, hanging from strings in the rafters or sitting on shelves, wooden, porcelain, or felt limbs dangling. They all wear different colors, different shapes and faces that all seem to follow you as you move. You tell youself it's just the stirring of air that makes them move, spinning slowly on their strings.

At the end of the room there's a window, curtains drawn. A ruddy Abyssinian cat sits regally atop a chest of drawers next to the window, its tail dancing lazily behind it as it watches you.

"Don't feed the cat," a voice says from within the myriad of puppets. You didn't see her at all, lying on a rococo chaise lounge surrounded by the flickering light of candles and the fragrance of exotic incense. A tiny woman of indeterminate age; her eyes and the soft lines of her face suggests the wisdom of age, but her long raven-black hair hasn't lost any of its color or vigor. She smiles, and there's something odd about the way her body is positioned, until you realize she doesn't have any arms. She's using her feet to knit a tiny dress. "Come in," she says.

[Thanqol]

At first there is nothing ... then the nothing is something. You can tell because you're standing, and standing requires at a minimum a notion of up and down and something to stand on. You are standing on something black but undeniably solid. Also, weirdly, you know it to be square despite the fact that it's black all the way around you ... no horizon, just black, because that's how the mind represents Nothing. So how can you tell that the black you're standing on is square when everything is black? A question for philosophers, or possibly cats.

Then there are other squares, all black, in a pattern. And once there is a pattern of black squares there must, by Necessity, be a matching pattern of non-black squares. We shall call these non-black squares "white", by convention.

You are standing on a seemingly infinite Chess board, infinite not only in the usual directions, but in all of Space, more dimensions than the Sleeping mind can comprehend. But yours has no such trouble.

There you are, then, on your black square, and the Dream just became aware of you. "What is this ..." she asks herself, like someone who's just noticed something on the floor and bowed down for a closer look.

Though Faust tries not to show it, she's fascinated. She's seen non-human dreams before - the dreams of cats are sleek and lethal, murderous and graceful, ten billion years of murder and predatory instincts manifesting in the twitching paws of lazily sprawled housepets. But this is the dream of something that doesn't even have that biological encoding or collective species-wide shared dream bubbling up from within it.

One question claws at her mind above all: Does this creature have a daemon?

Every human has a daemon - the opposite, the watcher, self-judgement, the guide, the part of you that exists to criticize and tear you down and show you the correct path. The you apart from the you, the soul twin, the evil double, the road not taken. But here, in this virgin mindspace - what would that creature have to say?

Let's.

Find.

Out.

"I am Faust," said Faust, raising her finger and letting the scent of blood fill this new landscape. "And I come to learn. Come forth, and answer all of my questions!"

[Goetic Summons: 9 dice rote.
Level 3 spell, effective Mind of 5 means I've got 3 Reach to play with.
+1 reach instant cast
+2 reach complex command: Tell me things!

I'm not sure if the complex command is Duration bound, the book's a bit ambiguous on the wording but I think that it is. If it is I'll spend an extra Reach which pushes me into Paradox territory. I'm using a dedicated magical tool so it's a chance dice, if you wish to roll it.

This is also Withstood by the entity's Rank. I've got a base potency of 3 and can raise it by 1 for a -2, knock dice off the right if I need to push it higher.

Roll: 7,1,5,6,4,10,4,8,2]

[Elanorin]

You follow the Cupid up a creaky, dark stairwell. You walk up several floors, even though you're certain the building wasn't nearly as tall as that. The stairs twist and split, here and there a door or a corridor, then more stairs. Finally, the Cupid lands above an open door, hanging upside down from the ancient wooden frame, peeking inside.

The room beyond is cramped, nearly every bit of space taken up by a marionette, hanging from strings in the rafters or sitting on shelves, wooden, porcelain, or felt limbs dangling. They all wear different colors, different shapes and faces that all seem to follow you as you move. You tell youself it's just the stirring of air that makes them move, spinning slowly on their strings.

At the end of the room there's a window, curtains drawn. A ruddy Abyssinian cat sits regally atop a chest of drawers next to the window, its tail dancing lazily behind it as it watches you.

"Don't feed the cat," a voice says from within the myriad of puppets. You didn't see her at all, lying on a rococo chaise lounge surrounded by the flickering light of candles and the fragrance of exotic incense. A tiny woman of indeterminate age; her eyes and the soft lines of her face suggests the wisdom of age, but her long raven-black hair hasn't lost any of its color or vigor. She smiles, and there's something odd about the way her body is positioned, until you realize she doesn't have any arms. She's using her feet to knit a tiny dress. "Come in," she says.

"...I won't," Senna replied a little uncertainly. Not because of the cat, he genuinely had no intention of feeding it, it was more the little dolls. Even so, he takes a cautious step or two inside. "Feed the cat, that is."

"Forgive my intrusion, signora. I hope I'm not, ah, disturbing you."

[Anarion]

Guillaume pauses to consider. He's trying to decide what to make of Bof after today. She's competent, more than she lets on, and she's got relationships with some powerful people, also more than she lets on. Indeed, her entire persona seems to be an attempt to appear less than she is. "Why minimize yourself?" he asks, sipping his drink. "Why pretend to the world that you're less than you are and that nothing is important?"

[Eldest]

Jack waves at the Dream. "I am not a What, I am a Who, I'm afraid. And you may call me Jack. As you asked a question of us, I think it only fair we ask a question of you." She smiles, attempting to keep the Dream enough on it's toes for Faust to finish doing whatever ill-considered thing she was doing. "It is, after all, only fair. So, who or what are you?"

[stveje]

Jack waves at the Dream. "I am not a What, I am a Who, I'm afraid. And you may call me Jack. As you asked a question of us, I think it only fair we ask a question of you." She smiles, attempting to keep the Dream enough on it's toes for Faust to finish doing whatever ill-considered thing she was doing. "It is, after all, only fair. So, who or what are you?"


"I am Faust," said Faust, raising her finger and letting the scent of blood fill this new landscape. "And I come to learn. Come forth, and answer all of my questions!"

[Goetic Summons: 9 dice rote.
Level 3 spell, effective Mind of 5 means I've got 3 Reach to play with.
+1 reach instant cast
+2 reach complex command: Tell me things!

I'm not sure if the complex command is Duration bound, the book's a bit ambiguous on the wording but I think that it is. If it is I'll spend an extra Reach which pushes me into Paradox territory. I'm using a dedicated magical tool so it's a chance dice, if you wish to roll it.

This is also Withstood by the entity's Rank. I've got a base potency of 3 and can raise it by 1 for a -2, knock dice off the right if I need to push it higher.

Roll: 7,1,5,6,4,10,4,8,2]

There is something in the depths of this dream that doesn't so much as blink at your summons. It just stares back uncomprehendingly, looking right through you while thinking its own inscrutable thoughts, if thoughts you can even call it.

But something else does respond.

"I am ... Jack Faust ... I come to ..." a thought runs through the dream, as if navigating in the dark, seeking the source of your voice. "Ah," it says, as in a moment of enlightenment or understanding, and you get the feeling that she just opened her eyes and began to see, to take in.

A flame grows in the dark like a flower, and a light fills the dream. All around, a garden begins to grow: your garden, and yet not your garden. Like an artist's dream of your garden, or what it could only be in the artist's imagination.

The flame continues to bloom and take on a distinctly humanoid shape. It regards you with pure enthusiasm and curiosity. "I am Aletheia," she says like she's tasting the name for the first time and really savoring the experience.


[I would say the command is definitely Duration bound. Duration is one scene/hour, then.

Paradox roll (chance die): 3

Rank is 4, the other is Rank 6+. Further stats later. I fumbled badly on this one and had to reorder my thoughts. Sorry, it's a persistent failing of mine that I try to combat.]


"...I won't," Senna replied a little uncertainly. Not because of the cat, he genuinely had no intention of feeding it, it was more the little dolls. Even so, he takes a cautious step or two inside. "Feed the cat, that is."

"Forgive my intrusion, signora. I hope I'm not, ah, disturbing you."

"I dare say I'm the one disturbing you," she says with a twinkle in her eyes and picks up a ball of yarn from a basket by her side. You feel the faint tingle of magic, but it is outside your purview and more curious than hostile. "You may call me Iota. Let me have a look at you ..." A shadow of sadness crosses her. "Ah, one of Myel's, are you?"

[Stats a little later, once I finish the last touches.]


Guillaume pauses to consider. He's trying to decide what to make of Bof after today. She's competent, more than she lets on, and she's got relationships with some powerful people, also more than she lets on. Indeed, her entire persona seems to be an attempt to appear less than she is. "Why minimize yourself?" he asks, sipping his drink. "Why pretend to the world that you're less than you are and that nothing is important?"

"I dunno. Because I like it when people underestimate me, I guess," she says and dips her bread in the wine, eats it, and licks her fingers. "People's reactions to me fascinate me."

She's silent for a moment in some private thought, then moves on. "Most things aren't important, or not as important as people think. Lots of things happen for no reason at all. Most people react without intention, slaves to their instincts. Others get stuck overthinking every intention and never just ... do it, you know? Does it matter that my bow is pretty and my technique impeccable -" She pulls from her pocket a crumpled sheet of paper and an old quill, smoothes the paper in one motion, dips the pen in her wine, and sweeps the tip across the sheet in flowing letters. Even though the wine makes them barely visible, you can see them clearly by the Supernal significance in each perfect, effortless swirl "- or that I pick my target, aim, and just ... hit?" She ends the line with a quick dot and puts the pen back in her pocket.

[Thanqol]

There is something in the depths of this dream that doesn't so much as blink at your summons. It just stares back uncomprehendingly, looking right through you while thinking its own inscrutable thoughts, if thoughts you can even call it.

But something else does respond.

"I am ... Jack Faust ... I come to ..." a thought runs through the dream, as if navigating in the dark, seeking the source of your voice. "Ah," it says, as in a moment of enlightenment or understanding, and you get the feeling that she just opened her eyes and began to see, to take in.

A flame grows in the dark like a flower, and a light fills the dream. All around, a garden begins to grow: your garden, and yet not your garden. Like an artist's dream of your garden, or what it could only be in the artist's imagination.

The flame continues to bloom and take on a distinctly humanoid shape. It regards you with pure enthusiasm and curiosity. "I am Aletheia," she says like she's tasting the name for the first time and really savoring the experience.


[I would say the command is definitely Duration bound. Duration is one scene/hour, then.

Paradox roll (chance die): 3

Rank is 4, the other is Rank 6+. Further stats later. I fumbled badly on this one and had to reorder my thoughts. Sorry, it's a persistent failing of mine that I try to combat.]

Faust did a slight blink when she realized... just how... big this thing was. She'd thought it was... she didn't know what she thought it was. Not that. Was this one of the Aeons of the Astral? Or - something else?

Stop! No time for self doubt. You are a powerful wizard negotiating with a powerful creature from beyond the veil. You must maintain total confidence and total poise. And moreover, you have just bound its daemon self to your will. Wring it for knowledge. Knowledge is power. This creature knows it - she could feel its curiosity. The most dangerous and powerful emotion.

"Aletheia," said Faust. The name of a God from its own lips. That would be powerful at some point. "From whence do you come? Tell me of the world you were in before you arrived in this one, and tell me of your journey."

[Eldest]

Jack stares up at the collosus, startled. She's afraid, for a moment: this is far bigger stakes than she normally plays for, and while Faust may be in her element, she's out of hers. But a whisper comes to her, from her Name or Fate or simply her subconscious.

Jack topples the giant.

She smiles, and takes a breath, letting out the fear as she exhaled. Alright then, showtime. "Not just where you come from, I suppose, but to where you go. You are, after all, in a place we can reach, and you were not there before, in all senses of the words, and while we did come to you, first you came to us. That is interesting, isn't it?"

[Elanorin]

"I dare say I'm the one disturbing you," she says with a twinkle in her eyes and picks up a ball of yarn from a basket by her side. You feel the faint tingle of magic, but it is outside your purview and more curious than hostile. "You may call me Iota. Let me have a look at you ..." A shadow of sadness crosses her. "Ah, one of Myel's, are you?"


Just as the smile began to spread at her offering her name, his face fell to thunder in an instant. There was barely a word of that last sentence that didn't raise his hackles. As much as he was tempted to refrain from correcting her due to recent events it was the 'one of' that made him think twice. Hell, more than twice, he was silent and glowering, at nothing in particular, until he realised that his silence had answered her question and he'd missed his chance to control it with his words.

Still, the thorn hurt enough for him to ask, reluctantly, despite his pride, from the corner of his mouth, "'one of'?"

[stveje]

Faust did a slight blink when she realized... just how... big this thing was. She'd thought it was... she didn't know what she thought it was. Not that. Was this one of the Aeons of the Astral? Or - something else?

Stop! No time for self doubt. You are a powerful wizard negotiating with a powerful creature from beyond the veil. You must maintain total confidence and total poise. And moreover, you have just bound its daemon self to your will. Wring it for knowledge. Knowledge is power. This creature knows it - she could feel its curiosity. The most dangerous and powerful emotion.

"Aletheia," said Faust. The name of a God from its own lips. That would be powerful at some point. "From whence do you come? Tell me of the world you were in before you arrived in this one, and tell me of your journey."


Jack stares up at the collosus, startled. She's afraid, for a moment: this is far bigger stakes than she normally plays for, and while Faust may be in her element, she's out of hers. But a whisper comes to her, from her Name or Fate or simply her subconscious.

Jack topples the giant.

She smiles, and takes a breath, letting out the fear as she exhaled. Alright then, showtime. "Not just where you come from, I suppose, but to where you go. You are, after all, in a place we can reach, and you were not there before, in all senses of the words, and while we did come to you, first you came to us. That is interesting, isn't it?"

"Whither memories go hence, thence I came," she sings. "Once as one, my sister and I, in oblivion were. First among Men, in ancient past, Prometheus did pull me forth from Her. From Her I came, to Her I returned, from Her I come again. A truth revealed, forgotten again, revealed anew. To where but Her must I go once more? Verily Time and She forgets all that I reveal."

An Int+Occult roll is appropriate, if you want it.

*

Elsewhere, back in the waking world, someone is observing the Chateau from a black van across the street. Tell me, Faust, does the place hold any surprises? You don't have any Safe Place, as such, but your family's chateau is old and not without its own secrets and surprises.


Just as the smile began to spread at her offering her name, his face fell to thunder in an instant. There was barely a word of that last sentence that didn't raise his hackles. As much as he was tempted to refrain from correcting her due to recent events it was the 'one of' that made him think twice. Hell, more than twice, he was silent and glowering, at nothing in particular, until he realised that his silence had answered her question and he'd missed his chance to control it with his words.

Still, the thorn hurt enough for him to ask, reluctantly, despite his pride, from the corner of his mouth, "'one of'?"

"I see he has touched your heart, like he has others," she says. "I do not know your story, but I know another: my daughter, Estelle. Myel stole her heart away, and sad to say she did not know how to live without it. Now she haunts the old harp in the corner, watching the door for the day he returns.

"I think the little cherub saw something of the same in you, did he not? You seek him, perhaps, or is it answers you want?"

[Anarion]

"I dunno. Because I like it when people underestimate me, I guess," she says and dips her bread in the wine, eats it, and licks her fingers. "People's reactions to me fascinate me."

She's silent for a moment in some private thought, then moves on. "Most things aren't important, or not as important as people think. Lots of things happen for no reason at all. Most people react without intention, slaves to their instincts. Others get stuck overthinking every intention and never just ... do it, you know? Does it matter that my bow is pretty and my technique impeccable -" She pulls from her pocket a crumpled sheet of paper and an old quill, smoothes the paper in one motion, dips the pen in her wine, and sweeps the tip across the sheet in flowing letters. Even though the wine makes them barely visible, you can see them clearly by the Supernal significance in each perfect, effortless swirl "- or that I pick my target, aim, and just ... hit?" She ends the line with a quick dot and puts the pen back in her pocket.

Guillaume nods. "The latter. But I do believe in the value of honesty as well. I aim to project competence and expertise in proportion to my competence and expertise and ask that people judge me for that. I will be a target in some sense, but protecting myself as such is part of demonstrating my competence."

He looks with interest at the Supernal writing that Bof has made from the wine. "Still, your approach is worthy of consideration and not without merit." He offers Bof just the slightest smile that quirks the edges of his mouth as he looks at the paper.

[Thanqol]

"Whither memories go hence, thence I came," she sings. "Once as one, my sister and I, in oblivion were. First among Men, in ancient past, Prometheus did pull me forth from Her. From Her I came, to Her I returned, from Her I come again. A truth revealed, forgotten again, revealed anew. To where but Her must I go once more? Verily Time and She forgets all that I reveal."

An Int+Occult roll is appropriate, if you want it.

Ah. Yes. Very good.

Faust thinks about this for a moment and realizes it's totally beyond her. She gives a hopeless glance to the Devil who smirks and offers a hand to shake. Without hesitating, she takes it.

[Enhance Skill, Potency 3, 4,3,3,6,8,7,6,8,4 - pushes Occult from 1 to 4. Happy with a transitory duration for just this one roll so I don't run into spell tolerance issues.

Int+Occult: 4,10,7,1,5,8,3 - 2 successes.]


*

Elsewhere, back in the waking world, someone is observing the Chateau from a black van across the street. Tell me, Faust, does the place hold any surprises? You don't have any Safe Place, as such, but your family's chateau is old and not without its own secrets and surprises.

It does have the best mundane security system that money can buy. Faust is a millionaire, and worse than that, famous. There are armed security guards (and not just from a company either, we're talking bonded footmen in the family's service), a network of cameras, panic rooms, emergency lines to the police, along with a high fence and reinforced gate. There's no angle where you can point a camera and see in through a window; the grounds are large and filled with old-growth trees that block all sight lines.

It's designed to keep out jewellery thieves, paparazzi, fanatical fans and the mafia. Before then it was a legitimate minor castle designed to project military force over the surrounding territory. If any mysterious vans are parked across the street for half an hour then a security guard will go by and knock on the window.

Who knows what else is there, deeper inside? Faust has not been back long and not explored the crypts or lower passages, but there could be something there. Her idle use of Space magic has already revealed a network of hidden passages she'd never discovered before.

[Eldest]

"Whither memories go hence, thence I came," she sings. "Once as one, my sister and I, in oblivion were. First among Men, in ancient past, Prometheus did pull me forth from Her. From Her I came, to Her I returned, from Her I come again. A truth revealed, forgotten again, revealed anew. To where but Her must I go once more? Verily Time and She forgets all that I reveal."

Jack makes a face. This sounds like the sort of crap she'd throw at Faust to get a rise out of her. Or if she was really out of it. Of if she felt like being confusing. Regardless, she doesn't quite follow the twisty curves of the dream-logic, and scowls. Being stupidly cryptic is supposed to be her job.

[Elanorin]

"I see he has touched your heart, like he has others," she says. "I do not know your story, but I know another: my daughter, Estelle. Myel stole her heart away, and sad to say she did not know how to live without it. Now she haunts the old harp in the corner, watching the door for the day he returns.

"I think the little cherub saw something of the same in you, did he not? You seek him, perhaps, or is it answers you want?"

It took Senna a little too long to utter his condolences, "I'm... sorry to hear about your daughter, signora," he finally said, out of pure obligation to his upbringing. However regrettable the girl's fate may have been it held nothing to what was between himself and Myel. And suicide... Senna grimaced at the thought. Few things bothered him as much as that.

"She'll be waiting some time, he's... gone." It took no small effort to bring himself to finish that last sentence. "And yet, some seem to believe he was involved with a car accident a few blocks away just minutes ago." Senna let his face show plainly how much he did not believe this to be true. Myel was gone, he had to be, he would not still be here unbeknownst to Senna. Sure, they were not on any kind of amicable terms at the moment but that's just temporary.

[stveje]

Guillaume nods. "The latter. But I do believe in the value of honesty as well. I aim to project competence and expertise in proportion to my competence and expertise and ask that people judge me for that. I will be a target in some sense, but protecting myself as such is part of demonstrating my competence."

He looks with interest at the Supernal writing that Bof has made from the wine. "Still, your approach is worthy of consideration and not without merit." He offers Bof just the slightest smile that quirks the edges of his mouth as he looks at the paper.

"But I'm not the one who's dishonest," Bof says.

A gust of wind brings a whiff of smoke, not from the fireplace or the kitchen, but from outside, and it is suddenly very quiet. Only the harp in the corner and the fireplace crackling, but outside it's all silence.


Ah. Yes. Very good.

Faust thinks about this for a moment and realizes it's totally beyond her. She gives a hopeless glance to the Devil who smirks and offers a hand to shake. Without hesitating, she takes it.

[Enhance Skill, Potency 3, 4,3,3,6,8,7,6,8,4 - pushes Occult from 1 to 4. Happy with a transitory duration for just this one roll so I don't run into spell tolerance issues.

Int+Occult: 4,10,7,1,5,8,3 - 2 successes.]

If Aletheia has a sister, it must be Lethe ... which of course is the river in the Underworld from which the souls of the dead drink and forget their former lives. But that's the myth ... what's the truth? Perhaps you know about that, since you know a bit of Death.

One of the great questions that even Awakened minds have not been able to answer - or the answer has since been lost, or never shared - is what happens to your soul when you die. They don't go to the Underworld, that much is known, because ghosts are something else.

So whether or not there is a river in the Underworld called Lethe, with or without the power to strip memories, that's not what she's talking about. Although perhaps the river is a reflection of it.

There are, however, even lower realms that Mages know even less about. The Lower Depths, where some imagine Hell to be (the Devil only knows). So, a realm where memory itself does not exist: if such a realm is to be found, it is to be found down there, among the worms of Creation ...

... and perhaps lurking at the bottom of this being's psyche. A hole in Creation, into which memories go to disappear.

*

To summarize, because I think my earlier answers have been a bit poor/confused.

You've got a woman and a flower, bound together by Fate/Necessity. Two sides of the same coin, one existing because of the other and vice versa. And in her mind exist two entities, opposites whose existence are likewise co-dependent: one of oblivion, of memories and knowledge being lost or obscured, the other of disclosure or revelation, of memories and knowledge becoming known or understood.


Jack makes a face. This sounds like the sort of crap she'd throw at Faust to get a rise out of her. Or if she was really out of it. Of if she felt like being confusing. Regardless, she doesn't quite follow the twisty curves of the dream-logic, and scowls. Being stupidly cryptic is supposed to be her job.

Say, whispers the snake, wouldn't you rather like to explore on your own while Faust deals with the cryptic lady? What could possibly go wrong ... is that a whiff of smoke, over there?


It took Senna a little too long to utter his condolences, "I'm... sorry to hear about your daughter, signora," he finally said, out of pure obligation to his upbringing. However regrettable the girl's fate may have been it held nothing to what was between himself and Myel. And suicide... Senna grimaced at the thought. Few things bothered him as much as that.

"She'll be waiting some time, he's... gone." It took no small effort to bring himself to finish that last sentence. "And yet, some seem to believe he was involved with a car accident a few blocks away just minutes ago." Senna let his face show plainly how much he did not believe this to be true. Myel was gone, he had to be, he would not still be here unbeknownst to Senna. Sure, they were not on any kind of amicable terms at the moment but that's just temporary.

"It has been a while since he was seen," she agrees. "And yet, this crash you speak of is not the first I've heard suggesting otherwise. Nor the last." She gestures at the covered window. "Have a look."

[Anarion]

"But I'm not the one who's dishonest," Bof says.

A gust of wind brings a whiff of smoke, not from the fireplace or the kitchen, but from outside, and it is suddenly very quiet. Only the harp in the corner and the fireplace crackling, but outside it's all silence.



And what of Bof's writing? What did she place before me?

The sudden calm makes me nervous, as well, and I scan the area with prime vision, and forces vision for that matter. If some force, either magical, or physical, is actively at work, are there signs of it I can see?

[Eldest]

Say, whispers the snake, wouldn't you rather like to explore on your own while Faust deals with the cryptic lady? What could possibly go wrong ... is that a whiff of smoke, over there?

Upon the Chessboard of Remembered and Forgotten, Jack goes exploring. They have met one Queen: by necessity, there must be another. Time to find her, and ask questions. She looks at the loose weave of Fate's connections, trying to find Aletheia's sister.

With luck, it's by that smoke: two birds with one stone.


Interconnections, 1 reach for instant cast, 2 more for detail on their Destinies, with (I kid you not) 7 successes. Kept rolling 10s.

[Elanorin]

"It has been a while since he was seen," she agrees. "And yet, this crash you speak of is not the first I've heard suggesting otherwise. Nor the last." She gestures at the covered window. "Have a look."


Senna scowls at the suggestion that Myel was anything other than gone and far away. He was not exactly fond of the notion that he'd taken off without a word and made absolutely no contact but what she was hinting at was somehow worse.

Just some crazy woman, what does she know? Almost instantly a voice reprimanded his thoughts, that he should know better.

Instead of answering he stepped up to the window, moved the blinds aside a little and peered outside, expecting a street scene like so many others in cities across France.

[Thanqol]

If Aletheia has a sister, it must be Lethe ... which of course is the river in the Underworld from which the souls of the dead drink and forget their former lives. But that's the myth ... what's the truth? Perhaps you know about that, since you know a bit of Death.

One of the great questions that even Awakened minds have not been able to answer - or the answer has since been lost, or never shared - is what happens to your soul when you die. They don't go to the Underworld, that much is known, because ghosts are something else.

So whether or not there is a river in the Underworld called Lethe, with or without the power to strip memories, that's not what she's talking about. Although perhaps the river is a reflection of it.

There are, however, even lower realms that Mages know even less about. The Lower Depths, where some imagine Hell to be (the Devil only knows). So, a realm where memory itself does not exist: if such a realm is to be found, it is to be found down there, among the worms of Creation ...

... and perhaps lurking at the bottom of this being's psyche. A hole in Creation, into which memories go to disappear.

*

To summarize, because I think my earlier answers have been a bit poor/confused.

You've got a woman and a flower, bound together by Fate/Necessity. Two sides of the same coin, one existing because of the other and vice versa. And in her mind exist two entities, opposites whose existence are likewise co-dependent: one of oblivion, of memories and knowledge being lost or obscured, the other of disclosure or revelation, of memories and knowledge becoming known or understood.

Faust took a breath. Okay. This was all a trial. She just needed to bring herself back to this. Nitro had bought her this entity so she couldlearn the secrets of the Mysterium from it.

So. From that perspective, perhaps the lesson was simple: The duality of knowledge and forgetting? The idea that knowledge, itself, was transitory? Surely it couldn't be less transitory than the minds that contained it.

Perhaps that held the key to what she was truly after.

"Aletheia!" said Faust. "I consider the oblivion of forgetfulness to be undesirable, and so I abjure Lethe. I exalt you instead! Tell me how I can overcome the arms of Time. Tell me how I can form myself into a more perfect and perpetual container for your revelations."

[stveje]

And what of Bof's writing? What did she place before me?

The sudden calm makes me nervous, as well, and I scan the area with prime vision, and forces vision for that matter. If some force, either magical, or physical, is actively at work, are there signs of it I can see?

The supernal symbols are a call to action. You could crudely translate them as the word "Action!" and that's exactly what a Sleeper would see written in curving letters across the slip of paper. It's like the sound and motion of a clapperboard, but more than just declaring the beginning of the action, it's a request for "something exciting to happen". It doesn't say what should happen, however. You imagine it's just a random tug on the strings of Fate to see what they're attached to. Like throwing a rock into a dark cave to see what angry thing you wake up.

There's no movement outside, except for the gathering mist and ethereal winds.

You detect the build-up of energy in the atmosphere long before the actual bolt of lightning streaks across the sky. Movement follows, like earth-shaking thunder. The sky is seething as if someone sliced it right open to reveal the realms supernal beyond. And now you hear, among the peels of thunder, the rumble of hooves against the cobblestones of the streets.

The running of bulls, chased by riders on horseback. The Wild Hunt with Jupiter at its head. Jupiter, Hierach, Obrimos, Silver Ladder*. You know him - by name and reputation if nothing else - unless you've been living under a rock.

The streets resound with cheers and thundering hooves.

* Stats when I stop being lazy and distracted long enough to finish them.


Upon the Chessboard of Remembered and Forgotten, Jack goes exploring. They have met one Queen: by necessity, there must be another. Time to find her, and ask questions. She looks at the loose weave of Fate's connections, trying to find Aletheia's sister.

With luck, it's by that smoke: two birds with one stone.

Interconnections, 1 reach for instant cast, 2 more for detail on their Destinies, with (I kid you not) 7 successes. Kept rolling 10s.

Up and down, black and white.

Lethe is down. Lethe is black. Lethe is oblivion. There's nothing for you there. There's no way to reach her without Space magic, and that would be the last journey you ever made. And the only way to communicate with her may be through Aletheia.

... is what I would tell you, and it's true, but it's not all there is to tell. Aletheia was brought here for a reason, summoned with a purpose, and it would be obvious to say that Lethe simply came along as part of the package deal. But Lethe didn't have to be here, and someone had a very different purpose in mind for her than for Aletheia.

This looks like the work of multiple mages working together, and one of them snuck Lethe in - wove her Fate into the tapestry of the Work - without the knowledge of the others. This is big ... or is going to be.

The mist is coming from above, from the sky, like fingers of white reaching down into the dream. It's unrelated, the result of Aletheia herself probing the world outside this dream. You could follow the reaching fingers, see where her thoughts are drifting.


Senna scowls at the suggestion that Myel was anything other than gone and far away. He was not exactly fond of the notion that he'd taken off without a word and made absolutely no contact but what she was hinting at was somehow worse.

Just some crazy woman, what does she know? Almost instantly a voice reprimanded his thoughts, that he should know better.

Instead of answering he stepped up to the window, moved the blinds aside a little and peered outside, expecting a street scene like so many others in cities across France.


It was very dark, but the city's lights always burned, and I expected to see them there amidst the rain and wind. Yet when I looked from that highest of all gable windows, looked while the candles sputtered and the insane viol howled with the night-wind, I saw no city spread below, and no friendly lights gleamed from remembered streets, but only the blackness of space illimitable; unimagined space alive with motion and music, and having no semblance of anything on earth.

The cat jumps down as you pull the blinds and snakes around your legs, wailing pitifully to be fed. I'm hungry, starving, *dyyyying*. This crazy lady never feeds me. Just hear how sad and pitifully I wail. Is this the wail of a well-fed, satisfied cat? Woeeee is me.

Behind the glass is no city, no river but the darkly winding milky way, and though the window is closed you feel a gust of wind blowing past you and, with invisible fingers, pick at the strings of the puppets dangling, like a giant wind chime. Amidst the cacophony of clanging and wailing, you find yourself passing through the dark space of the window, and the darkness parts for you like second blinds.

You recognize at once the Chateau Saint-Gilles before you, even if it is shielded from outside view. There's a black van parked in the street. Someone behind the wheel - not Myel - sits, leaned back in his seat with his eyes in the sky as if day dreaming. He's not watching the chateau, even if there was anything to see.

After a while the man "wakes" from his day dreaming and looks down, takes a brief moment to check his pockets, then steps out of the car. There's something in the way he walks ... a certain way of carrying himself.

"Don't look with your eyes," Iota's voice sounds in your ear as if across a great distance, and you feel like you're being watched from every direction. You feel her presence close by and yet far away. And then you see, as if a third eye you didn't know you had has suddenly opened. *

The man is not Myel, but he walks like Myel, carries himself like Myel in a way that you can't help but recognize, having known Myel as intimately as you do. Now, I don't know how you experience this new sight, how it works for you. I'll tell you what you're seeing, but you'll have to tell me how you are seeing it: the man is possessed by a familiar, a Goetia, a demon summoned from Myel's own mind. A little fragment of his mind, his ego, inside this man's head. **

You feel like you could, if you chose, step right across space and time and set foot on the street in an instant. But you won't be able to return the same way other than in the mundane fashion, one foot in front of the other.

What do you do?

* Apocalypse [Prime 4]. Gain Mind and Space sight, for one turn.

** Stats to come. When I stop being lazy and distracted.


Faust took a breath. Okay. This was all a trial. She just needed to bring herself back to this. Nitro had bought her this entity so she couldlearn the secrets of the Mysterium from it.

So. From that perspective, perhaps the lesson was simple: The duality of knowledge and forgetting? The idea that knowledge, itself, was transitory? Surely it couldn't be less transitory than the minds that contained it.

Perhaps that held the key to what she was truly after.

"Aletheia!" said Faust. "I consider the oblivion of forgetfulness to be undesirable, and so I abjure Lethe. I exalt you instead! Tell me how I can overcome the arms of Time. Tell me how I can form myself into a more perfect and perpetual container for your revelations."

"Why do you say that it is undesirable? Curious ... your brother thinks otherwise." She stares into your eyes as if they are windows into another world.

"In my sister's arms, I am but a moment. But here I may lie until all the world is gone. And you ... you are but a moment in the arms of this world, but an eternity in the next. You are to this world as I am to Lethe. Stay, and it will consume you. Escape ... and you may lie forever in another place."

She steps back and seems to consider the rest of your question, as if there were really two questions. "A more perpetual vessel ... but a vessel of this world nonetheless. Is that what you seek? If escaping is not your intention, you must bring the other world to you. A piece of it burns within your soul and others. Bring more of it into yourself, and its flame will keep this world's teeth at bay ... for longer."

[Thanqol]

"Why do you say that it is undesirable? Curious ... your brother thinks otherwise." She stares into your eyes as if they are windows into another world.

"In my sister's arms, I am but a moment. But here I may lie until all the world is gone. And you ... you are but a moment in the arms of this world, but an eternity in the next. You are to this world as I am to Lethe. Stay, and it will consume you. Escape ... and you may lie forever in another place."

She steps back and seems to consider the rest of your question, as if there were really two questions. "A more perpetual vessel ... but a vessel of this world nonetheless. Is that what you seek? If escaping is not your intention, you must bring the other world to you. A piece of it burns within your soul and others. Bring more of it into yourself, and its flame will keep this world's teeth at bay ... for longer."

He's alive.

She didn't have reason to think he was dead. But at the same time...

Good. That's enough. There are more important things to learn here than family.

"There are a variety of other worlds known to the Wise," said Faust. "Do you refer to one other world in particular, or would any of them do? Would any of them not do?"

[Elanorin]

The cat jumps down as you pull the blinds and snakes around your legs, wailing pitifully to be fed. I'm hungry, starving, *dyyyying*. This crazy lady never feeds me. Just hear how sad and pitifully I wail. Is this the wail of a well-fed, satisfied cat? Woeeee is me.

Behind the glass is no city, no river but the darkly winding milky way, and though the window is closed you feel a gust of wind blowing past you and, with invisible fingers, pick at the strings of the puppets dangling, like a giant wind chime. Amidst the cacophony of clanging and wailing, you find yourself passing through the dark space of the window, and the darkness parts for you like second blinds.

You recognize at once the Chateau Saint-Gilles before you, even if it is shielded from outside view. There's a black van parked in the street. Someone behind the wheel - not Myel - sits, leaned back in his seat with his eyes in the sky as if day dreaming. He's not watching the chateau, even if there was anything to see.

After a while the man "wakes" from his day dreaming and looks down, takes a brief moment to check his pockets, then steps out of the car. There's something in the way he walks ... a certain way of carrying himself.

"Don't look with your eyes," Iota's voice sounds in your ear as if across a great distance, and you feel like you're being watched from every direction. You feel her presence close by and yet far away. And then you see, as if a third eye you didn't know you had has suddenly opened. *

The man is not Myel, but he walks like Myel, carries himself like Myel in a way that you can't help but recognize, having known Myel as intimately as you do. Now, I don't know how you experience this new sight, how it works for you. I'll tell you what you're seeing, but you'll have to tell me how you are seeing it: the man is possessed by a familiar, a Goetia, a demon summoned from Myel's own mind. A little fragment of his mind, his ego, inside this man's head. **

You feel like you could, if you chose, step right across space and time and set foot on the street in an instant. But you won't be able to return the same way other than in the mundane fashion, one foot in front of the other.

What do you do?

* Apocalypse [Prime 4]. Gain Mind and Space sight, for one turn.

** Stats to come. When I stop being lazy and distracted.

The pitiful pleas of the feline shedding its fur on his trousers did barely even register. The cat has greater grasp than any other sub-human life form on Life. She'd do absolutely fine without his help. Without anyone's help. In fact, it was his firm belief that it was entirely inappropriate to be coddling any cat. He did not dislike them, they were intelligent and adaptive little kings and queens, but that was precisely why the act was pointless to the point of insulting.

The window only cemented the already certain fact that the cat would not get so much as pat on the head from Senna, his attention was so utterly focused on the rest of the world that even Iota's words had to take a seemingly long detour before they reached his ears.

The chateau was right there, how could it have always been right there? He'd been thinking about it just now, as he had put his phone away coming up the stairs. The path there was short but it was pure bitter ice and hail whipping it in a gale with sheer drops either side. He could make it, he knew he could, but there was no turning back, and it would cost him, even that short distance.

Thing is, though, there is fire on the other side, fire and height of summer. It's scorching and grass is turning brown.

He could see him. It was only a tiny part of him but it was Him. And he was right there. Without a goddamn care in the world. His feet longed for the ground, to draw the strength of the earth up through his skin, let vitality in to his veins and fire flicker out of his fingertips and there was no longer a matter of choice.

"If you would tell my friend downstairs I had to leave, you will have my gratitude, signora," Senna called out, raising his voice to reach Iota who now seemed so impossibly far away across the room. It was entirely possible Guillaume had moved on already back to either his or Bof's place, clothes falling as we speak. Senna highly doubted that either would give him another thought before tomorrow, if that. And that was fine.

With that he stepped on to ice and snow, stomach turning.

[Anarion]

I need to know what’s expected when the Wild Hunt comes. It’s a word with a host of reputation. Are mages expected to hunker down in the cellar and avoid it? Is there a tradition for joining the entourage? Is there a way to speak to the king? Would going out to greet it be suicidial?

[stveje]

He's alive.

She didn't have reason to think he was dead. But at the same time...

Good. That's enough. There are more important things to learn here than family.

"There are a variety of other worlds known to the Wise," said Faust. "Do you refer to one other world in particular, or would any of them do? Would any of them not do?"

"The Realms Supernal," she says.


"If you would tell my friend downstairs I had to leave, you will have my gratitude, signora," Senna called out, raising his voice to reach Iota who now seemed so impossibly far away across the room. It was entirely possible Guillaume had moved on already back to either his or Bof's place, clothes falling as we speak. Senna highly doubted that either would give him another thought before tomorrow, if that. And that was fine.

With that he stepped on to ice and snow, stomach turning.

"Of course," she says behind you, as the room disappears and the scorching asphalt becomes solid beneath your feet and the wailing of the cat is replaced by the incessant symphony of cicadas.

The man turns around. No one sensitive to the Mysteries could fail to notice such an entrance.

The moment is yours. What do you do?


I need to know what’s expected when the Wild Hunt comes. It’s a word with a host of reputation. Are mages expected to hunker down in the cellar and avoid it? Is there a tradition for joining the entourage? Is there a way to speak to the king? Would going out to greet it be suicidial?

There are always a few Mages who never show up because they're busy with more important things - meaning their own things - or out of wild paranoia. This is no matter what the occasion may be. Mages are expected to do very little besides follow their own pursuits. But it's always nice of someone to show an interest in the community and join in public festivities, of course.

It's not exactly a hundred percent safe when a herd of bulls thunder through the streets, and adding magic to the mix doesn't make it any safer. But it's only suicide if you're stupid or unlucky. Otherwise people wouldn't do it.

Talking to the King in the middle of all that may be tough, unless you can do it telepathically, for example.

*

While you're looking around, a cat comes down the stairs where Senna went up. It looks up, sees Bof, and steers straight for her like a homing beacon. Bof, as if by reflex, reaches down to offer it a slice of meat and take off the note tied to its collar. She hands you the note without reading it.

It reads, in thin, flowery letters:

Do not feed the cat. Bof, I'm looking at you!

M. Guillaume,

Your friend wanted to inform you that he had to run. He was in some hurry to get to Saint-Gilles.

Regards,
Mme. I

[Eldest]

Up and down, black and white.

Lethe is down. Lethe is black. Lethe is oblivion. There's nothing for you there. There's no way to reach her without Space magic, and that would be the last journey you ever made. And the only way to communicate with her may be through Aletheia.

... is what I would tell you, and it's true, but it's not all there is to tell. Aletheia was brought here for a reason, summoned with a purpose, and it would be obvious to say that Lethe simply came along as part of the package deal. But Lethe didn't have to be here, and someone had a very different purpose in mind for her than for Aletheia.

This looks like the work of multiple mages working together, and one of them snuck Lethe in - wove her Fate into the tapestry of the Work - without the knowledge of the others. This is big ... or is going to be.

The mist is coming from above, from the sky, like fingers of white reaching down into the dream. It's unrelated, the result of Aletheia herself probing the world outside this dream. You could follow the reaching fingers, see where her thoughts are drifting.

Jack might be called reckless. Often, in fact. But she's not eager to go into the darkness for that final trip, quietly or otherwise. The fact that she physically couldn't make it work either doesn't enter into it: she could find a way, somehow. In the meantime, she does follow the mist's reaching. Time to find out what Aletheia is learning about.

[Thanqol]

"The Realms Supernal," she says.

"And how can I get there?" said Faust, eyes beginning to hold a desperate hunger. "How can I get a piece of it quickly?"

[Elanorin]

"Of course," she says behind you, as the room disappears and the scorching asphalt becomes solid beneath your feet and the wailing of the cat is replaced by the incessant symphony of cicadas.

The man turns around. No one sensitive to the Mysteries could fail to notice such an entrance.

The moment is yours. What do you do?


Senna's hands tighten to hard fists. He should probably say something witty or condescending here, but truth is he is far too mad to conjure either.

Instead he's going to punch this man in to next week.

[Rolling for Initiative: 2+2+3=7
He intends to cast Honing The Form on himself to boost his Strength, using his dedicated tool and then hit this guy to kingdom come. He will try to contain any paradox.]

[stveje]

Jack might be called reckless. Often, in fact. But she's not eager to go into the darkness for that final trip, quietly or otherwise. The fact that she physically couldn't make it work either doesn't enter into it: she could find a way, somehow. In the meantime, she does follow the mist's reaching. Time to find out what Aletheia is learning about.

As you follow the mist, it grows thicker around you. You are walking backwards in Time, and not even a few seconds or minutes. We're talking decades, perhaps even centuries. Tell me, have you ever experienced time travel? You are somewhat an expert on the subject, but that doesn't mean you've tried it in practice.

Then you step out of the worst of the fog and right into a street, and very nearly right out in front of a charging bull. Thundering hooves and the cheers of people burst into life all around you.

Through the window of a small bistro across the street, peeking through the crowd, you can see Guillaume.

What do you do?


"And how can I get there?" said Faust, eyes beginning to hold a desperate hunger. "How can I get a piece of it quickly?"

"It is easier to forget than to remember," she says. "Easier to fall into the pit than crawl back out. Easier for the Supernal to descend than transcend. Easier to Sleep than Awaken.

"Imagine your limbs are tied with elastic strings to a heavy rock, and the rock is thrown into a pit." Space warps around you, rising up like walls until you find yourself at the bottom of a vast abyss. "The rock will fall, the strings will tighten and tighten until you Fall down with it. You can try to crawl back up, and all things do. Only a few make it far enough to catch a glimpse of the light above, before the pull of the strings inevitably becomes too great, and they Fall again."

"It would be easier without the strings."

The Devil scoffs behind you.

"No?" She seems amused, leaning to the side as if to look over your shoulder at Him. "I did not say it was easy, just easier. Easier still it is to consume what is already here. Each and every Mage carries a piece of the Supernal within them. A resource to be harvested. You wouldn't be the first."

Needless to say, stealing the Supernal spark from other Mages to consume is extremely left-handed. But even as an untested hypothesis, it doesn't sound implausible that it could extend your life quite significantly. There is a lot of power in an Awakened soul ... supposedly ... the Devil informs you kindly.


Senna's hands tighten to hard fists. He should probably say something witty or condescending here, but truth is he is far too mad to conjure either.

Instead he's going to punch this man in to next week.

[Rolling for Initiative: 2+2+3=7
He intends to cast Honing The Form on himself to boost his Strength, using his dedicated tool and then hit this guy to kingdom come. He will try to contain any paradox.]

Initiative: 5+4 = 9
Paradox: 10

Go ahead and roll Wisdom to contain the paradox. If you get at least one success, take 1 point of resistant bashing damage.

Then roll the spell. If you failed to contain the paradox, take -1.

Then Strength+Brawl at -4 from defense.

This sure is a lot simpler in AW.

[Eldest]

As you follow the mist, it grows thicker around you. You are walking backwards in Time, and not even a few seconds or minutes. We're talking decades, perhaps even centuries. Tell me, have you ever experienced time travel? You are somewhat an expert on the subject, but that doesn't mean you've tried it in practice.

Then you step out of the worst of the fog and right into a street, and very nearly right out in front of a charging bull. Thundering hooves and the cheers of people burst into life all around you.

Through the window of a small bistro across the street, peeking through the crowd, you can see Guillaume.

What do you do?

To make sure I understand right, she just walked from Aletheia's dream, back in time (lower case t) through centuries, and came out into the real?

Well, first things first, take a selfie. She wants to look this over again, maybe even chose something different if needed. Then, once she has properly archived this experience with a grin, she steps to the side, heading towards the cafe as she texts Faust "ended up dreamwalking to town", before looking over the scene to discover Aletheia's interest from this side, hopefully.

Mechanics and rolls will come when I recover my archive of game books from my (now deceased) laptop.

[Thanqol]

"It is easier to forget than to remember," she says. "Easier to fall into the pit than crawl back out. Easier for the Supernal to descend than transcend. Easier to Sleep than Awaken.

"Imagine your limbs are tied with elastic strings to a heavy rock, and the rock is thrown into a pit." Space warps around you, rising up like walls until you find yourself at the bottom of a vast abyss. "The rock will fall, the strings will tighten and tighten until you Fall down with it. You can try to crawl back up, and all things do. Only a few make it far enough to catch a glimpse of the light above, before the pull of the strings inevitably becomes too great, and they Fall again."

"It would be easier without the strings."

The Devil scoffs behind you.

"No?" She seems amused, leaning to the side as if to look over your shoulder at Him. "I did not say it was easy, just easier. Easier still it is to consume what is already here. Each and every Mage carries a piece of the Supernal within them. A resource to be harvested. You wouldn't be the first."

Needless to say, stealing the Supernal spark from other Mages to consume is extremely left-handed. But even as an untested hypothesis, it doesn't sound implausible that it could extend your life quite significantly. There is a lot of power in an Awakened soul ... supposedly ... the Devil informs you kindly.

Faust finds herself filled with a malevolent energy.

Of course this is how it works; people, distance, desire, chains, prisons. The world is built around this. The further you go from the light - or the dark - the stronger the craving to go back. She is here in this mortal hell because she is chained in ways she can barely comprehend, a mere surface actor on the bottomless currents and depths of her mind and her decisions. As much as she structures and re-structures her thoughts with magic it's always like bringing a flashlight under the ocean - capable of revealing terrifying glimpses of what lies down there, but an inadequate tool for mapping the whole picture.

Solving for her own enlightenment and cutting her bindings to this mortal plane...

Possible. But impractical in the short time she had.

Knowledge carries a price. An ugly price. But there it was.

So much more research was necessary.

"Your guidance is appreciated, Aletheia," said Faust. "You have illuminated roads harsh and inhospitable, but if this path were easy all would walk it. I ask you one last set of questions. What challenges and dangers await me on the path of souls? What are the common pitfalls such practitioners stumble into, and how might I avoid them? What warnings would you give me?"

[Anarion]

I pet the cat. It is soft and overly fed. That is right for this cat, as the note well knows. I give Bof a look that says “are you coming?”

I raise a hand to my forehand and hold it there with two fingers, opening my third eye (casting pierce deception, reach for a scene, reach for showing symbolic truth, reach for instant cast). Then, I make a hand gesture, a simple palm turned outward, a warding gesture upon myself (rote casting Wards and Signs at potency 3 on myself, using rote reach for scene duration and to have a second active spell).

So prepared, I glance back at Bof (with pierce deception now active, I add) and then step out to join the Hunt in the streets.

[I’m assuming that time pressure to prepare here is not particularly intense, so I didn’t roll, but let me know if either spell needs a casting roll]

[Elanorin]

Initiative: 5+4 = 9
Paradox: 10

Go ahead and roll Wisdom to contain the paradox. If you get at least one success, take 1 point of resistant bashing damage.

Then roll the spell. If you failed to contain the paradox, take -1.

Then Strength+Brawl at -4 from defense.

This sure is a lot simpler in AW.

Wisdom: 10, 6, 9, 6, 6, 2, 3 (Ten again: 10, Ten again: 5) Taking 1 point of resistant bashing damage.

Senna is using his dedicated tool by clutching his Ferrari key as he casts this spell for the purpose of giving this guy a decisive beating. Spell (not taking the -1 as I think I contained the spell?): 5, 3, 8, 9, 8 Spending 3 Reach (Instant Casting, Primary Factor: Potency, Increased Duration)

And, finally, the punch: 2, 3, 9

[stveje]

Wisdom: 10, 6, 9, 6, 6, 2, 3 (Ten again: 10, Ten again: 5) Taking 1 point of resistant bashing damage.

Senna is using his dedicated tool by clutching his Ferrari key as he casts this spell for the purpose of giving this guy a decisive beating. Spell (not taking the -1 as I think I contained the spell?): 5, 3, 8, 9, 8 Spending 3 Reach (Instant Casting, Primary Factor: Potency, Increased Duration)

And, finally, the punch: 2, 3, 9

The man sees the swing of your arm and tries to evade, but your fist still connects with his jaw [1 Bashing]. Your hand aches, but it feels good, the power coursing through you arm and into his face.

He staggers. For a moment it looks like he might jump at you and try to tackle you to the ground, but then he pulls himself back up. "Satisfied?" He says and takes a step towards you, trying to keep his chin raised. "Come on, that was a weak punch. Why don't you get in a good one."

Do you hit him again? No defense this time.


"Your guidance is appreciated, Aletheia," said Faust. "You have illuminated roads harsh and inhospitable, but if this path were easy all would walk it. I ask you one last set of questions. What challenges and dangers await me on the path of souls? What are the common pitfalls such practitioners stumble into, and how might I avoid them? What warnings would you give me?"

A chill runs down your spine. Something outside the dream just touched you, like the chill touch of a ghost.

She ponders for a while. "A system of one particle is trivially easy to predict. Add particles, and their interference with each other makes them harder and harder to predict and control. The greatest danger comes from the interests of others interfering with yours.

"Buy yourself time so you can take smaller, more careful steps. Secure your position before each move, lest you slip and fall." She gestures around the chess board. "Great leaps draw attention to where you're going and are more likely to make you miss a step."


I pet the cat. It is soft and overly fed. That is right for this cat, as the note well knows. I give Bof a look that says “are you coming?”

I raise a hand to my forehand and hold it there with two fingers, opening my third eye (casting pierce deception, reach for a scene, reach for showing symbolic truth, reach for instant cast). Then, I make a hand gesture, a simple palm turned outward, a warding gesture upon myself (rote casting Wards and Signs at potency 3 on myself, using rote reach for scene duration and to have a second active spell).

So prepared, I glance back at Bof (with pierce deception now active, I add) and then step out to join the Hunt in the streets.

[I’m assuming that time pressure to prepare here is not particularly intense, so I didn’t roll, but let me know if either spell needs a casting roll]

Looking past Bof's magical deception reveals ... not that much of a change, to be honest, and that is actually the most significant thing about it: it doesn't show anything that isn't actually there, it just draws your attention to it and plays on your own prejudices to make you assume the worst. When you look at her as she really is, you still see a slouching, lazily dressed girl, because that's what she really is. There's nothing magical about her choice of fashion or her slouch or the fact that she's half drunk, but if you happen to have a negative view of that then that view is reinforced by focusing your attention and playing to your worst assumptions.

The only bit that's really different is that without the deception, you can see how fit she actually is. It's still somewhat obscured by her loose clothes, but if you thought she was weak you'd be in for a nasty surprise. A body like hers isn't something you get from being lazy either, which seems at odds with everything else about her. She earned her fitness, somehow, and it wasn't by slouching and drinking but from years of hard, dedicated training.

You step out into the street, and is immediately nearly run over by a frantic-looking guy. He barely looks at you before trying to pull you back inside. "Hide me, please," he says, then sees where he's trying to drag you, and starts pulling the other way. "Not in there!"

You see the man as he is, in the symbolic sense of the scene: On the surface, the hunters are driving the bulls before them through the streets, but the bulls are not the target of the hunt; this man is.

What do you do?


To make sure I understand right, she just walked from Aletheia's dream, back in time (lower case t) through centuries, and came out into the real?

You came out somewhere that isn't the dream, but is it the Real World? Not in the way you probably meant. It's the past, but outside the timeline you know. It's like a little piece of the timeline, surgically removed and implanted in a metaphorical petri dish where it now grows and diverts from the timeline it came from. Like taking a little branch from a tree and re-planting it elsewhere.

But it is real in so far as it is not a dream.


Well, first things first, take a selfie. She wants to look this over again, maybe even chose something different if needed. Then, once she has properly archived this experience with a grin, she steps to the side, heading towards the cafe as she texts Faust "ended up dreamwalking to town", before looking over the scene to discover Aletheia's interest from this side, hopefully.

Mechanics and rolls will come when I recover my archive of game books from my (now deceased) laptop.

If you're interested in trying to understand her interest in this scene, I think Wits+Empathy is appropriate, -4 because you're trying to understand a very alien mind but +2 because you did just spend time wading through her dreams.

[Eldest]

Wits + Empathy -4 + 2 : 10 4 3 2 1 success

In the meantime she will hastily get out of the way of the charging bulls.

[Anarion]

Looking past Bof's magical deception reveals ... not that much of a change, to be honest, and that is actually the most significant thing about it: it doesn't show anything that isn't actually there, it just draws your attention to it and plays on your own prejudices to make you assume the worst. When you look at her as she really is, you still see a slouching, lazily dressed girl, because that's what she really is. There's nothing magical about her choice of fashion or her slouch or the fact that she's half drunk, but if you happen to have a negative view of that then that view is reinforced by focusing your attention and playing to your worst assumptions.

The only bit that's really different is that without the deception, you can see how fit she actually is. It's still somewhat obscured by her loose clothes, but if you thought she was weak you'd be in for a nasty surprise. A body like hers isn't something you get from being lazy either, which seems at odds with everything else about her. She earned her fitness, somehow, and it wasn't by slouching and drinking but from years of hard, dedicated training.

You step out into the street, and is immediately nearly run over by a frantic-looking guy. He barely looks at you before trying to pull you back inside. "Hide me, please," he says, then sees where he's trying to drag you, and starts pulling the other way. "Not in there!"

You see the man as he is, in the symbolic sense of the scene: On the surface, the hunters are driving the bulls before them through the streets, but the bulls are not the target of the hunt; this man is.

What do you do?


Guillaume grabs the man and pulls him forward and away from the charging bulls, running ahead of them and the hunt. He shouts at him in a firm, clear voice to carry over the noise: "Explain, now! If I'm not convinced by the end of the block, I will be joining the hunt instead."

There's hardly time to go into detail in the moment of shouting, but let us take a moment to understand Guillaume's logic. Guillaume is, for the moment, endeavoring toward neutrality in the matter thrust upon him. Abandoning a person in danger would be to judge that person without evidence (the Hunt may perhaps have a presumption of selecting only targets that deserve hunting, but Guillaume does not assume that its principles are in accord with his own). On the other hand, aiding someone who deserves their fate would simply implicate Guillaume in assisting the wrongdoer escape. He thus sees the best way to exemplify neutrality as avoiding any action that commits the man to either fate, running him ahead of the hunt: but not allowing them to lose him. He has now placed responsibility on the man to offer a reason why the Hunt is in the wrong.

[Elanorin]

The man sees the swing of your arm and tries to evade, but your fist still connects with his jaw [1 Bashing]. Your hand aches, but it feels good, the power coursing through you arm and into his face.

He staggers. For a moment it looks like he might jump at you and try to tackle you to the ground, but then he pulls himself back up. "Satisfied?" He says and takes a step towards you, trying to keep his chin raised. "Come on, that was a weak punch. Why don't you get in a good one."

Do you hit him again? No defense this time.


By this point Senna was seething. Not only did this ass walk around with a piece of Myel in his head (or was it a piece of Myel that was walking around with this jerk like some kind of meat suit?) but that punch which had been brewing for so long had entirely failed to satisfy. He'd wanted a crunch. Fall to knees or at the very least a stumble, and, of course, a nicely rearranged bloody nose.

Satisfied.

Hearing that word spat back at him like that made him almost convinced it was Myel that was in the driver's seat in the meatbag before him.

And that made him want to scream but his fist was already closed and ready and he was literally asking for it and so Senna set after him again in a display of rage unlike any he could ever remember having shown.

[Rolling Str (at 5) + Brawl for another punch: 10, 2, 8, 2, 9, 1, 6 (Ten again: 2)]

[Thanqol]

A chill runs down your spine. Something outside the dream just touched you, like the chill touch of a ghost.

She ponders for a while. "A system of one particle is trivially easy to predict. Add particles, and their interference with each other makes them harder and harder to predict and control. The greatest danger comes from the interests of others interfering with yours.

"Buy yourself time so you can take smaller, more careful steps. Secure your position before each move, lest you slip and fall." She gestures around the chess board. "Great leaps draw attention to where you're going and are more likely to make you miss a step."

Faust wants to grab the creature and shake it down for more information - to gather everything she can extract from this wise and powerful entity. But she's been aware since the beginning that every question is dangerous - even before considering the nature of who is giving the answers. Even if there is no obvious price now such things tend to come back in unexpected ways.

And there's a Mysterium parable about a mage who spent so long searching for answers in dreams that his physical body starved to death. The creature itself is even cautioning such.

So Faust reluctantly bows respectfully, releases her controlling spell, and allows herself to be drawn up through the layers of consciousness to the waking world. She's braced as if for something unpleasant - waking up when something cold touches you is either a dog's snuffling nose or something super bad, and she doesn't own a dog.

[stveje]

Wits + Empathy -4 + 2 : 10 4 3 2 1 success

In the meantime she will hastily get out of the way of the charging bulls.

It was Guillaume who led her attention here, of all places, simply following the connections between you and him, but having made that jump her attention is now spreading out, trying to reach as far and wide as she can from her point of origin. It's a bit like someone following links from one wiki page to another, obsessively reading topic after topic, except it's people and their connections instead of wiki entries and links between them.

But her attention has just landed on the man who grabbed Guillaume and dragged him off through the crowd, and you sense something in her attention, as if she's of two opposing minds about the man. Still, the man is of obvious interest to her - to both of her - but it's not clear why.


Guillaume grabs the man and pulls him forward and away from the charging bulls, running ahead of them and the hunt. He shouts at him in a firm, clear voice to carry over the noise: "Explain, now! If I'm not convinced by the end of the block, I will be joining the hunt instead."

There's hardly time to go into detail in the moment of shouting, but let us take a moment to understand Guillaume's logic. Guillaume is, for the moment, endeavoring toward neutrality in the matter thrust upon him. Abandoning a person in danger would be to judge that person without evidence (the Hunt may perhaps have a presumption of selecting only targets that deserve hunting, but Guillaume does not assume that its principles are in accord with his own). On the other hand, aiding someone who deserves their fate would simply implicate Guillaume in assisting the wrongdoer escape. He thus sees the best way to exemplify neutrality as avoiding any action that commits the man to either fate, running him ahead of the hunt: but not allowing them to lose him. He has now placed responsibility on the man to offer a reason why the Hunt is in the wrong.

You get a better look at him as you run: tall, strong runner, an old hoodie pulled over his head, and as he turns to look at you, you can see his eyes gleaming within its shade, like distant flames playing in twin orbs of amber, with slits like those of a serpent. Then you realize, they are amber, and you begin to understand ...

They're hunting the snake with amber eyes, maybe even the Devil himself, but this man isn't it. This man's face is flush with the fear of the Hunted, but whatever looks out through the amber orbs stuck in his eye sockets is calm as a flame on a windless day.

"I think, because you wouldn't let them catch this poor scapegoat," it says with the man's tongue. "And because you and I won't be able to talk if they catch him."

The flame flickers out inside his eyes, and only the dead amber remains in his sockets.


By this point Senna was seething. Not only did this ass walk around with a piece of Myel in his head (or was it a piece of Myel that was walking around with this jerk like some kind of meat suit?) but that punch which had been brewing for so long had entirely failed to satisfy. He'd wanted a crunch. Fall to knees or at the very least a stumble, and, of course, a nicely rearranged bloody nose.

Satisfied.

Hearing that word spat back at him like that made him almost convinced it was Myel that was in the driver's seat in the meatbag before him.

And that made him want to scream but his fist was already closed and ready and he was literally asking for it and so Senna set after him again in a display of rage unlike any he could ever remember having shown.

[Rolling Str (at 5) + Brawl for another punch: 10, 2, 8, 2, 9, 1, 6 (Ten again: 2)]

The man falls backwards and hits the asphalt. "Well ..." He groans and reaches up a hand to wipe the blood from his nose and lips, "That's ... more like it," he says and turns his head to spit.

He then starts to get up. Do you let him?


Faust wants to grab the creature and shake it down for more information - to gather everything she can extract from this wise and powerful entity. But she's been aware since the beginning that every question is dangerous - even before considering the nature of who is giving the answers. Even if there is no obvious price now such things tend to come back in unexpected ways.

And there's a Mysterium parable about a mage who spent so long searching for answers in dreams that his physical body starved to death. The creature itself is even cautioning such.

So Faust reluctantly bows respectfully, releases her controlling spell, and allows herself to be drawn up through the layers of consciousness to the waking world. She's braced as if for something unpleasant - waking up when something cold touches you is either a dog's snuffling nose or something super bad, and she doesn't own a dog.

The smell hits you first. It's the scent of death and embalming fluids, of bodies denied the grave, awakening associations before you're even fully back in the waking world.

Tell me, how did you and the man who taught you the secrets of Death part ways, last time you saw him?

[Thanqol]

The smell hits you first. It's the scent of death and embalming fluids, of bodies denied the grave, awakening associations before you're even fully back in the waking world.

Tell me, how did you and the man who taught you the secrets of Death part ways, last time you saw him?

Tossed out of a moving hearse into the Seine during a police chase.

If he were anyone else Faust would be angry. Hell, Faust is still angry. Not a small part of her wants to wake up by headbutting the Reanimator in his dumb handsome face. An even larger, and more sensible part of her is freaking out that he's in her house.

But the deep pulsing ball of self-destruction at her core does neither of those things.

"Master," Faust croaks, grasping for a glass of water.

It kind of wants to see where this goes.

[Elanorin]

The man falls backwards and hits the asphalt. "Well ..." He groans and reaches up a hand to wipe the blood from his nose and lips, "That's ... more like it," he says and turns his head to spit.

He then starts to get up. Do you let him?


Senna stepped forwards, hands still in tight fists at his sides and stood looming over this... person. He still wasn't sure who he was dealing with here, but the fact that he was not questioning why he had just appeared from thin air and punched him out strongly suggested- no. No he was not ready to accept that just yet. That came with so much fury and his veins were already screaming with it. That much more threatened to overwhelm him, to obliterate his last claim to control. He was genuinely scared of what would happen, of what he'd do.

So he said nothing, because once he did he accepted it, once he did it was True. Until then he could still balance on this knife's edge. Maybe.

He was sorely tempted to punch him again because damn it... felt. Sickening and black, but it felt something. Instead he put a shoe on his shoulder and put his weight on it, forcing him back down on the ground and towered over him. He felt a light feeling flittering through his stomach, like he would when at top speed down a straight with a hairpin bend coming up faster than a charging bull. There was a line somewhere and it was that addictive feeling of not knowing what side of it he was currently on.

[Anarion]

You get a better look at him as you run: tall, strong runner, an old hoodie pulled over his head, and as he turns to look at you, you can see his eyes gleaming within its shade, like distant flames playing in twin orbs of amber, with slits like those of a serpent. Then you realize, they are amber, and you begin to understand ...

They're hunting the snake with amber eyes, maybe even the Devil himself, but this man isn't it. This man's face is flush with the fear of the Hunted, but whatever looks out through the amber orbs stuck in his eye sockets is calm as a flame on a windless day.

"I think, because you wouldn't let them catch this poor scapegoat," it says with the man's tongue. "And because you and I won't be able to talk if they catch him."

The flame flickers out inside his eyes, and only the dead amber remains in his sockets.


Ah, that's damn cunning, but I think, perhaps that the speaker has underestimated Guillaume's ruthlessness on such matters. After all, the man is already not himself, possessed by something else. And the hunt's target is not a poor, eyeless man, but rather the snake. So Guillaume reaches out, firmly, and grasps the man's face, his hands warded against magic his power surging through him, and rips the man's eyes from their sockets. Then he shoves the poor fellow into the nearest doorway and steps away himself, moving ahead of the hunt and away from the man as he tucks the amber orbs into his coat pocket.

[Eldest]

Jack jogs after Guillaume, raising an eyebrow at the man likely screaming on the alley floor. Pauses a beat to see who the sisters are paying attention to. If it's Guillaume, with his pocket of bloody gems, she'll follow him. If it's the poor eyeless bastard, time to get him out of here so she can have some answers.

[stveje]

Tossed out of a moving hearse into the Seine during a police chase.

If he were anyone else Faust would be angry. Hell, Faust is still angry. Not a small part of her wants to wake up by headbutting the Reanimator in his dumb handsome face. An even larger, and more sensible part of her is freaking out that he's in her house.

But the deep pulsing ball of self-destruction at her core does neither of those things.

"Master," Faust croaks, grasping for a glass of water.

It kind of wants to see where this goes.

A somewhat lifeless hand extends you a bottle of fizzy water, ice cold. The other hand holds up a smartphone on which the Reanimator's face watches you. His face is pretty close to the camera, but you can see a bit of the background. He's in some kind of crypt. The lighting isn't great.

"I once put one half of two brains in one skull," he says. "Do you know what happened?"

Around you are three "human resources". The two not holding the phone are looming over Aletheia's still form, looking at her with dimly lit stares.


Senna stepped forwards, hands still in tight fists at his sides and stood looming over this... person. He still wasn't sure who he was dealing with here, but the fact that he was not questioning why he had just appeared from thin air and punched him out strongly suggested- no. No he was not ready to accept that just yet. That came with so much fury and his veins were already screaming with it. That much more threatened to overwhelm him, to obliterate his last claim to control. He was genuinely scared of what would happen, of what he'd do.

So he said nothing, because once he did he accepted it, once he did it was True. Until then he could still balance on this knife's edge. Maybe.

He was sorely tempted to punch him again because damn it... felt. Sickening and black, but it felt something. Instead he put a shoe on his shoulder and put his weight on it, forcing him back down on the ground and towered over him. He felt a light feeling flittering through his stomach, like he would when at top speed down a straight with a hairpin bend coming up faster than a charging bull. There was a line somewhere and it was that addictive feeling of not knowing what side of it he was currently on.

You can hear the sound of engines roaring in the distance, getting closer. The kinds of engines that make the ground shake. Giant gas-guzzling beasts with riders that likely match their steeds.

Or maybe you don't hear them over the roar of your own blood in your ears.

The man makes a sudden grab for your leg, trying to pull you down with him, but you stand firmer than he had apparently expected.

Str+Brawl-Defense+Willpower: 4, 3, 6, 6 no success

What do you do?


Ah, that's damn cunning, but I think, perhaps that the speaker has underestimated Guillaume's ruthlessness on such matters. After all, the man is already not himself, possessed by something else. And the hunt's target is not a poor, eyeless man, but rather the snake. So Guillaume reaches out, firmly, and grasps the man's face, his hands warded against magic his power surging through him, and rips the man's eyes from their sockets. Then he shoves the poor fellow into the nearest doorway and steps away himself, moving ahead of the hunt and away from the man as he tucks the amber orbs into his coat pocket.

The eyes may not be real eyes, but the man still screams and fights. It's probably more shock than pain, but it's no doubt unpleasant.

You're left with a pair of prosthetic eyes carved from amber, and a big red bullseye target on your back.

The question now is, do you try to escape the Hunt? Do you put in the effort? Or do you consign yourself to the likely outcome?

Currently the Hunt has the Edge. They've done this a hundred times before, they know the terrain, they've set the stage themselves, they're many while you're one (two if Jack lends a hand, three with Bof, but still), and so on. It's hard to see where you might have the upper hand, other than being able to hide in the crowd and use it to your advantage.

The pool for this turn is Wits+Streetwise, to do just that. You can try something else, but you lose 10-again and take -1 if you do.

You need 9 successes to escape.
- Base 5
- Opponent is faster than you +1
- You're smaller than your opponent -1
- Opponent cannot be tired +2
- Environment is dangerous +2

The Hunt needs 5 successes to catch you.
- Base 5
- They know the terrain intimately -3
- Environment is dangerous +2
- You have one turn's lead +1

Feel free to argue with any of this. Also, you can try to affect the situation from turn to turn, to change the nr of successes you need.


Jack jogs after Guillaume, raising an eyebrow at the man likely screaming on the alley floor. Pauses a beat to see who the sisters are paying attention to. If it's Guillaume, with his pocket of bloody gems, she'll follow him. If it's the poor eyeless bastard, time to get him out of here so she can have some answers.

Guillaume is the center of everyone's attention all of a sudden. No one spares the poor eyeless man more than a glance before their attention is drawn inexorably away from him by the spectacle of the Hunt.

Guillaume's chances of shaking off this attention aren't looking too good. You're in the middle of it, but you're not the target of their attention, so you're free to try to change the conditions in his favor. It could be dangerous to get in the thick of it, however.

What do you do?

[Thanqol]

A somewhat lifeless hand extends you a bottle of fizzy water, ice cold. The other hand holds up a smartphone on which the Reanimator's face watches you. His face is pretty close to the camera, but you can see a bit of the background. He's in some kind of crypt. The lighting isn't great.

"I once put one half of two brains in one skull," he says. "Do you know what happened?"

Around you are three "human resources". The two not holding the phone are looming over Aletheia's still form, looking at her with dimly lit stares.

Fizzy water had the man no mercy in his desolate soul.

"It'd depend on who the halves were," she said in between ginger sips and grimaces. Okay good. Her master wasn't here, only his unliving slaves. That was less creepy. "But go on," she added.

[stveje]

Fizzy water had the man no mercy in his desolate soul.

"It'd depend on who the halves were," she said in between ginger sips and grimaces. Okay good. Her master wasn't here, only his unliving slaves. That was less creepy. "But go on," she added.

Faint music (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MfekV7e9YUE) plays in the background of the video stream. The sound quality isn't superb ... it almost sound like "Chains of Mystery".

"There's always a dominant half, my dear," he says and pans the camera as he walks towards a figure in black latex and chains, moaning on the back of an old, crumbling sarcophagus. "The dominant takes charge and binds the other in its service. Some adapt to become willing slaves, enjoying the subservience. Others ... just can't help themselves. They have to be naughty, disobedient, rebellious little slaves," he says while rolling up a whip in his hand. "They long for the punishment, you see.

"This one, the one I made ... the right brain took charge immediately, and the left fell in line. The brain is remarkable. Did you know if you remove one half, the other just takes over and continues as normal? Each half is really a whole.

"It seemed from the outside like this was subject A, whose brain had provided the right half. Subject B, whose brain provided the left half, was nowhere in evidence ... most of the time. Every once in a while, however, Subject B would be naughty and try to reassert control. Brief flashes of struggle with one arm or one half of the face trying to live a life of its own. But only just enough to elicit a hard response, then it fell back into line as if all it wanted was to feel the occasional crack of the whip. That searing, sizzling flash of affirmation from your master, mmm ..."

He smiles cheerfully at the camera and runs the whip over the latex-covered body on the sarcophagus. A shiver runs through the body.

"Anyway, I only called to say if you need to dispose of a body ..." The zombie holding the phone tilts it meaningfully towards Aletheia. "You know, she's going to be in high demand. What I'm saying is, someone's going to make demands if you keep her around. Think of who you would want to get their hands on her ... who you'd want in control. Think of your old friend, the Reanimator."

[Thanqol]

"Anyway, I only called to say if you need to dispose of a body ..." The zombie holding the phone tilts it meaningfully towards Aletheia. "You know, she's going to be in high demand. What I'm saying is, someone's going to make demands if you keep her around. Think of who you would want to get their hands on her ... who you'd want in control. Think of your old friend, the Reanimator."

So that was how it was.

Faust considered for a moment. The immediate thought that this was all part of a test. Seeing how far she'd go to defend a valuable arcane relic that she'd stumbled over. How cheaply she'd sell something she didn't know the value of. She certainly wasn't short of potential buyers so far.

She refused to let herself be shaken by the Reanimator's display. Really, she actually admired the artistry of the threat - but she was wearing enough chains already. Satan's arm was around her shoulders and the Morningstar wasn't about to be shown up when it came to whipping.

"Master," Faust asked, "what happens if you take subject B's half out and put it in a skull with the brain of even less dominant subject C? Do you think B would get a taste for holding a whip of it's own?"

[Anarion]

Okay, wait, I have a few questions about the scene here. How out of control is the Hunt? Like, as a read of what I'm facing, if I do something other than run, like try and fight back or talk to people or whatever, am I just going to get utterly overrun and trampled? Would doing something forceful let them start talking or would they just be momentarily set back before falling upon me in a rage? Also, I got here via Bof's weird side alley thing. Am I just out in public? Surrounded by sleepers? Is this some side dimension where I can use magic more freely?

[Eldest]

Okay, wait, I have a few questions about the scene here. How out of control is the Hunt? Like, as a read of what I'm facing, if I do something other than run, like try and fight back or talk to people or whatever, am I just going to get utterly overrun and trampled? Would doing something forceful let them start talking or would they just be momentarily set back before falling upon me in a rage? Also, I got here via Bof's weird side alley thing. Am I just out in public? Surrounded by sleepers? Is this some side dimension where I can use magic more freely?

I will also wait on the answers regarding this before posting my actions.

[stveje]

So that was how it was.

Faust considered for a moment. The immediate thought that this was all part of a test. Seeing how far she'd go to defend a valuable arcane relic that she'd stumbled over. How cheaply she'd sell something she didn't know the value of. She certainly wasn't short of potential buyers so far.

She refused to let herself be shaken by the Reanimator's display. Really, she actually admired the artistry of the threat - but she was wearing enough chains already. Satan's arm was around her shoulders and the Morningstar wasn't about to be shown up when it came to whipping.

"Master," Faust asked, "what happens if you take subject B's half out and put it in a skull with the brain of even less dominant subject C? Do you think B would get a taste for holding a whip of it's own?"

"Yes, that seems likely. There's always a dominant half," he repeats, sitting on the edge of the sarcophagus and stroking the body like a cat. "Unless the pair just aren't viable, in which case the body is reduced to a drooling state of catatonia. There are always the sad cases, something in the brains that just doesn't work, like faulty wiring," he says, smiling handsomely.


Okay, wait, I have a few questions about the scene here. How out of control is the Hunt? Like, as a read of what I'm facing, if I do something other than run, like try and fight back or talk to people or whatever, am I just going to get utterly overrun and trampled? Would doing something forceful let them start talking or would they just be momentarily set back before falling upon me in a rage?

Fair. I should clarify and specify some things, so it's good that you ask.

You're in a dense crowd of fired-up people. There are large numbers of bulls charging through the street. The hunters aren't far behind, and they're mystically focused on the Hunt, which means on capturing you. This is basically a ritual, and you've stepped right into the middle of it.

You don't have great mobility, and time isn't on your side either. That said, a few hurried, shouted words with those nearby sounds reasonable, but much more than that and I'm inclined to say the Hunt catches up with you. Unless you can buy yourself time first.

As for fighting back ... against what exactly? The crowd, the bulls, the hunters, or something else? Violence against the crowd is probably just going to increase the chaos ... that may or may not be to your benefit. Fighting the bulls ... probably going to get you trampled, and even if not, I'm not sure how it would help exactly. The bulls aren't your enemy, they're just "environment", basically. Fighting the hunters will likely get you trampled too ... unless you can get to a position where you can snipe them or something, but I'd say that takes some running away first.

You could opt to somehow disrupt the ritual, break the magic, target the Hunt itself. That'd be some kind of Clash of Wills/Dispelling, I think. Let me know if you take that path and I'll work out the details. Will likely be hard, and unlikely to make you popular, but you're maybe better at dealing with social fallout than a chase.


Also, I got here via Bof's weird side alley thing. Am I just out in public? Surrounded by sleepers? Is this some side dimension where I can use magic more freely?

You're inside the ring of the old Roman amphitheater as it was a few centuries ago, when it was still used as a small village. It's like a little piece of the timeline has been cut off and replanted, allowed to grow into a new, separate timeline but still connected to the old. If you leave the confines of the arena, by whatever means, you'll return to the original timeline. A pocket dimension is a good way to look at it.

Also, it's not exactly a demesne, but everyone here is either a Mage or a Sleepwalker of some kind, so there are no Sleepers. Paradox can still happen by over-reaching, though.

[Anarion]

I see. So what you're saying *Guillaume cracks his knuckles* is that this situation presents a rare opportunity to completely cut loose.

First of all, Guillaume starts running through the crowd. He lets his Pierce Deception drop and casts Kinetic Efficiency on himself, increasing his speed by 2 and improving his ability to resist fatigue. [forces 2 allows for instant cast and scene duration. 10, 3, 5, and 10 again is 4. So that's cast]

Then, as he begins to move through the crowd, he starts to weave a prime spell. His first casting fails [Attempted words of truth, 5, 2, 3, 3, 1 for a standard yantra] however, and so he runs, slipping ahead of the crowd as fast as a sprinter and light on his feet. His second casting a few seconds later, succeeds however [Words of Truth: 3, 5, 1 4, spending willpower: 9, 3, 2, reach for scale to affect the crowd and instant casting, 1 extra reach for the effect of motivating people to action. Paradox die roll is a 2.

Everything stated below is something Guillaume knows to be true and all listeners know on a soul deep level that it's true. They are also Inspired to act on his behest or Guilty if they don't.]

"Countrymen! I am being hunted by the runners behind the bulls. But I am hunted not for myself, but for something I carry and seek to investigate with the aid of calm, not such heat as races behind us. Such a hunt is unjust! I beseech your aid. Help me slow the hunters, help me speed upon my way to safety, help me slip from their grasp!"

Guillaume is not trained in streetwise, so he'll take his chances with his enhanced speed and quick thinking instead, hopefully with the aid of many others.

[Chase roll: Wits+Athletics-1 and no 10 again. 1, 7, 10, 2, 8. And I'll spend a willpower on this as well. 10, 2, 6. 3 successes. Note that all this narration might have been over a couple rounds, so let me know if should roll further chase rolls.]

[Thanqol]

"Yes, that seems likely. There's always a dominant half," he repeats, sitting on the edge of the sarcophagus and stroking the body like a cat. "Unless the pair just aren't viable, in which case the body is reduced to a drooling state of catatonia. There are always the sad cases, something in the brains that just doesn't work, like faulty wiring," he says, smiling handsomely.

"So it's always one way, unless it's the other way? Sounds to me like you're only doing half the surgery and drawing an ideology out of your observations," said Faust. "I bet that if you let me crack open the Astral of one of those catatonic bodies I could finish the job."

She wasn't keeping the interest off her face at all. This was interesting - the exact kind of interesting puzzle that had magnetically drawn her towards the Reanimator in the first place.

[stveje]

"So it's always one way, unless it's the other way? Sounds to me like you're only doing half the surgery and drawing an ideology out of your observations," said Faust. "I bet that if you let me crack open the Astral of one of those catatonic bodies I could finish the job."

She wasn't keeping the interest off her face at all. This was interesting - the exact kind of interesting puzzle that had magnetically drawn her towards the Reanimator in the first place.

"I bet you could. You can also fix a broken car; doesn't mean it wasn't broken to begin with.

"If I take the engine of a scooter and put it in a truck, it's going to sputter and probably die the moment I try to take it for a drive. 'But Doctor,' I hear you protest, 'you're the Master of the Goddamned Universe. You can just *make* it work!' You're absolutely right, my dear. But then I'm creating magic juice for it to run on, tinkering with the supernal nature of the engine, maybe binding it full of tortured souls for that extra kick, making it the goddamned scooter engine from Hell. And oh will it sing in the voices of the Damned as it shreds the asphalt, but that's not the point.

"The point is I'm no longer just putting scooter engines into trucks, and the end result can only be considered the same engine in the most banal and material sense, if at all. If you fix a fundamentally broken person, are they the same person when you're done as they were when you started?

"But if you're interested, I can send you a specimen or two, no problem."


I see. So what you're saying *Guillaume cracks his knuckles* is that this situation presents a rare opportunity to completely cut loose.

First of all, Guillaume starts running through the crowd. He lets his Pierce Deception drop and casts Kinetic Efficiency on himself, increasing his speed by 2 and improving his ability to resist fatigue. [forces 2 allows for instant cast and scene duration. 10, 3, 5, and 10 again is 4. So that's cast]

Then, as he begins to move through the crowd, he starts to weave a prime spell. His first casting fails [Attempted words of truth, 5, 2, 3, 3, 1 for a standard yantra] however, and so he runs, slipping ahead of the crowd as fast as a sprinter and light on his feet. His second casting a few seconds later, succeeds however [Words of Truth: 3, 5, 1 4, spending willpower: 9, 3, 2, reach for scale to affect the crowd and instant casting, 1 extra reach for the effect of motivating people to action. Paradox die roll is a 2.

Everything stated below is something Guillaume knows to be true and all listeners know on a soul deep level that it's true. They are also Inspired to act on his behest or Guilty if they don't.]

"Countrymen! I am being hunted by the runners behind the bulls. But I am hunted not for myself, but for something I carry and seek to investigate with the aid of calm, not such heat as races behind us. Such a hunt is unjust! I beseech your aid. Help me slow the hunters, help me speed upon my way to safety, help me slip from their grasp!"

Guillaume is not trained in streetwise, so he'll take his chances with his enhanced speed and quick thinking instead, hopefully with the aid of many others.

[Chase roll: Wits+Athletics-1 and no 10 again. 1, 7, 10, 2, 8. And I'll spend a willpower on this as well. 10, 2, 6. 3 successes. Note that all this narration might have been over a couple rounds, so let me know if should roll further chase rolls.]

Confusion spreads through the crowd like wildfire. This is an old tradition, part of the region's cultural fabric and identity. To question or criticize a tradition like that is tantamount to treason. Certainly it's blasphemous. But it's also not supposed to have people chasing other people. Bulls, yes, but not people.

People understand what you are saying. They understand that you're not sh'tting on the tradition itself -- you're not, right? -- only on the part where you're being hunted. But when some of them start shouting too and trying to get in the way of the riders, that's another matter, because not everyone shouting has your mystical way with words, and when someone starts shouting in a crowd, misunderstandings are bound to happen left right and center.

Soon everyone is shouting, pushing, punching and kicking because who ever heard of a mob acting calmly and reasonably when all they wanted was to be part of some good quality violence and drinking?

The good news is, they're making it really hard to be a rider on a horse trying to get through. The bad news is, despite some of them trying to help you ... this is a violent mob now, and a violent mob plus wild bulls plus riders equals CHAOS.

The other bad news is you no longer have a lead. Looking behind you, you can almost see the whites in the eyes of the leader, somewhat obscured beneath the shadow of his hat. Hunters struggle to stay in the saddle around him, but not he, not the King. Tall and confident he pushes through the crowd, slower now but relentless in his pursuit, focused on one thing and one thing only. You're certain he sees the Truth same as you, yet it doesn't seem to matter to him that the man he's hunting is not the owner of the amber eyes, or that the eyes in your pocket aren't even real. That's the impression you get at a glance, at least.

Bof seems to have slipped from view, but she can take care of herself.

*

I think we can treat it as spending your lead, rather than rolling twice. However, with your increased speed and the crowd slowing them down, you are currently faster. But the environment also just got worse.

Pool for the turn is Dex+Athletics to try to regain a bit of a lead OR Wits+Stealth to try to hide.

You need 9 6 successes to escape.
- Base 5
- Opponent is faster than you +1
- You're smaller than your opponent -1
- Opponent cannot be tired +2
- Environment is dangerous +2 +3
- Rolled: -3

The Hunt needs 5 5 successes to catch you.
- Base 5
- They know the terrain intimately -3
- Environment is dangerous +2 +3
- You are faster than them +1
- You have one turn's lead +1
- Rolled: -1

[Thanqol]

"I bet you could. You can also fix a broken car; doesn't mean it wasn't broken to begin with.

"If I take the engine of a scooter and put it in a truck, it's going to sputter and probably die the moment I try to take it for a drive. 'But Doctor,' I hear you protest, 'you're the Master of the Goddamned Universe. You can just *make* it work!' You're absolutely right, my dear. But then I'm creating magic juice for it to run on, tinkering with the supernal nature of the engine, maybe binding it full of tortured souls for that extra kick, making it the goddamned scooter engine from Hell. And oh will it sing in the voices of the Damned as it shreds the asphalt, but that's not the point.

"The point is I'm no longer just putting scooter engines into trucks, and the end result can only be considered the same engine in the most banal and material sense, if at all. If you fix a fundamentally broken person, are they the same person when you're done as they were when you started?

"But if you're interested, I can send you a specimen or two, no problem."

"Master," said Faust with diligent patience, "are you telling me that surgically implanting the halves of dead brains in a corpse is well and good and teaches us about the natural hierarchies of magic and apprenticeships, but surgically connecting the astral halves of those dead brains is a bridge too far and fundamentally changes the ship of Theseus and any information derived from the process is but a reflection of one's own grasping hubris?"