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Promises Kept, Sight Rnd 4 Scene: Shelter Cafeteria, Within the Collar “Marcine? You OK?” Rick’s voice was distant, fuzzy. He was shaking her shoulder. “What are you seeing?” “Fine,” she said, but her own voice came from a world and a life away and she wasn’t sure if she’d managed a word or only a grunt. Her skull pounded in time with the pulse under her fingers. She shook her head at his second question. Wasn’t done. Hadn’t found it yet. Couldn’t tell him. “Need more…” “Pace yourself,” Elbridge cautioned her. “Thoroughness is what counts here, and it’ll do no good for you to exhaust yourself. Here.” While Marcine had inspected the collar, Elbridge had brewed a second pot of tea, pouring a mug and setting down a notepad and pencil for her. “If you’d write what you’ve seen so far - and I do mean write,” he stressed, with an agitated glance at Rick. She made an effort to sound more distinct. “Too long to find it again.” “Remember what you’re looking for,” Rick urged. “Don’t try to take all of it, just what you have to.” She dragged the notepad closer, but didn’t pick up the pencil yet. They were right, and she had an idea. “What were you trying to remember yesterday? Don’t trigger it. Just bring it to focus.” “Rain,” Rick said, closing his eyes. The collar shimmered, flickering past the memories of being starved for days while locked in a dark, flooded place. “It was raining, when they pulled us out…” ((Sight, round 4. Difficulty 6. Notice: +/+++4 = 7, invoking Mind Games to bring that to 9 for a SWS and two aspects. Will to defend: //+-+4 = 4, marks off 2nd mental stress box.)) --- The courtyard of a ruined castle came into focus through Rick’s eyes. Trucks and more crates of gear were being tarped off against the drizzle. It wasn’t a storm, just miserable and wet. Rachel was standing next to him. Their hands were still chained but not their legs. A crowd was starting to form. “You better keep that promise,” Rachel whispered. “I’ll do my part and you goddamn do yours.” “Rachel…” “Shut up, Rick. This is bigger than us.” He shut up. The Duke came into the rain from the inside, covered by his grey cloak. Standing before them with his arms crossed, he let them soak in the rain for a time, not caring about the rain falling down on him. Then… “You can feel it.” It wasn’t a question. “How has being trapped with your inner demons treated you?” he asked, a cruel smirk on his face. “You’re wasting your time,” Rachel snapped. “You won’t break us that easy.” Rick wasn’t so sure. The gnawing in his stomach made it hard to stand, let alone think. Fighting it down, keeping still, and waiting, was the hardest thing he’d ever done. There were humans in the crowd, and a little voice in the back of his head was considering the easiest way to get to each one, the quickest way to kill them. He tried to bury it and focus on Roqueza. Be ready, just shut up and be ready. She promised! So hungry… DON’T LISTEN! Ready, ready, ready. “I beg to differ.” Taking a step back, he gestured at one of the vampires behind them. “Take off his cuffs.” As the vampire stepped forward, Roqueza opened one of the crates and rummaged within it, before pulling out something Cole recognized very well. “This is your sword, Warden,” he said, giving it a few practice swings to test its balance and edge. “The measure of your value as a wizard, wouldn’t you say?” Shrugging, he put it down on the floor and laid a steel-toed boot on it, as he leaned forward to pull a pair of gauntlets out of the box. Slipping them on, he balanced his foot back and forth. “Let us see how much you’re worth, then. Here, Warden. It is yours.” And with that, he kicked the sword at him. Cole rubbed some life into his wrists and stared at his sword, just within reach there on the broken flagstones. Roqueza was wrong, his value as a wizard had nothing to do with how well he held a sword. The vampire wanted him to fight, but why fight when he couldn’t win? Trap, trap, trap! Remember your promise! “No,” Rick said. He left the sword on the ground. “Keep it.” Roqueza’s face split into a wide grin. A low, rumbling chuckle swelled up from within his throat, before turning into a full, booming laugh. “Ah ha ha ha ha! Not even you can defend your own worth! Amazing, Warden. Of all the things you could’ve said or done, I think none of them could have put me in as good a mood as this one!” Settling down, the Duke picked up the sword, and ran a gauntleted finger up the blade’s edge, a smile still on his face. “Since you’ve made me laugh so hard, I think I will make you an offer. I was about to kill you, but the world is sorely lacking in funny men. If you wish, you can join me and my people, and work together with us instead.” Looking up from the sword, he stared at Cole, mirth still dancing in his eyes. “Well? How does that sound?” Rick held his head up, one last bit of defiance. “Even if I turn tomorrow, I’ll never serve you.” Roqueza shrugged, his expression turning to mild disappointment. “Such foolish pride for one who does not even value himself...very well then.” One moment he was at ease. The next, Cole felt a hand hold him by the shoulder, while a knee smashed against his abdomen. He bent over double, the air knocked clean out of him, and dropped to his knees. This wasn’t the plan! What are you waiting for?! Rachel! “Pointless bravado.” The sword’s pommel slammed against his head, making him see stars. “Foolish pride.” A kick to his solar plexus sent him tumbling backwards. “Worthless Warden.” A rough hand pulled him up into a kneeling position from his shoulder. The tip of his own sword lifted his chin up to look at the monstrous face of a Red Court Vampire. There were others all around him, dozens of them. "Ahh, Wardens. So eager to swing their shiny little toys around. You lace them with so many enchantments, you forget what it really means to use a sword. I learned it from an old master, many years ago." Leaning down, the Duke stared at him, face to face. "The sword is the soul. Study the soul to know the sword. A weak soul makes a weak sword." And with absolute parsimony, he slipped the sword into Rick’s shoulder, making sure to cut deep. The memory… stopped. Like a paused video, the last frame frozen in time. --- “...Rachel offered to fight him in my place.” Rick said out loud. To Marcine it sounded as if he were a narrator for his own memories. “She made me swear on my power that I’d escape, if she gave me the chance. We had to let the Council know where Roqueza was, what he was doing. Nothing else mattered. We were both dead anyway.” Marcine didn’t answer for a moment, struggling to hold back nausea and not feel for her own shoulder. Phantom pain lingered in her senses. How could he even still use that arm? “You remember that much?” “Just enough to… to know what happened. So I could still make sense of things.” He paused, biting his lip. ‘Make it mean something,’ that’s what she said. That’s the last thing I remember.” And the rest he couldn’t live with, even with what he did remember. She understood the purpose of the collar now. She still didn’t like it, but its creation was more of a mercy than it had first seemed. Part of her wanted to listen to better judgment and stop before she saw something more painful, but the chance of Rick losing his head in the present was worse than anything he’d survived in the past. She focused back in on the collar. --- Like a DVD skipping ahead, the scene resumed. Rachel, a slim silver rapier in her hands, charged across the courtyard towards Roqueza, screaming her head off. Every eye was on her, even the ones that should have been guarding Cole. He stayed as still as possible, kept his voice a low mutter under the rain as he started his spell. But even he couldn’t look away from Rachel. Unlike her, the Duke bore no weapons at all. His face, once more human thanks to his flesh mask, was the epitome of serenity. He simply stood perfectly still, hands in front of his body, waiting for her first strike. The rain seemed to part around her as she charged, and she wasn’t quite visible. Her flickering form was always a step ahead of where you looked, as if your eyes were chasing an afterimage. Her first thrust was high, to the Duke’s throat, and she was going so fast it was more of a leap than a lunge. Roqueza did not counterattack. Instead, he sidestepped and closed his eyes. When she made her next move, he replied to her lunge with one of his own - lowering his head and moving to the right, he reached out with his right hand to grasp Rachel’s left. Several crunches and a few soft pops followed before he took a step back, leaving Rachel’s left hand free to be seen. Fingers were not supposed to bend at those angles, were they? “Illusions,” he said, his face a mask of stoic composure. “A good idea in theory, but your feeble senses make your magic just as weak. Scent alone was enough to determine your position and bypass your attempts to fool my eyes.” Folding his arms, his one good eye gave Rachel a contemptuous stare. “Dispense with the parlour tricks, Warden,” he said, sounding utterly bored. “Continue to insult my skills so and I will simply have my men burn you alive with molotovs.” The vampires in the crowd laughed and cheered. This was rare entertainment for them. On the ground, Rick finished his incantation. The spell was set, ready, just like he promised, but if he used it now, they’d still catch him. He had to wait, and watch for the right moment. Watch, and do nothing, no matter what. “Fine, then, rear end in a top hat. No more games.” Rachel held her left hand against her back in the most traditional fencer’s stance, as if she didn’t feel the broken fingers. They didn’t matter, at this point. She stood straight up, and held her sword in salute. Not to Roqueza, though she was facing him. Her eyes found Rick, for just a second, and her jaw set. Then she rushed him again, this time without magic. This time, Roqueza did not retreat. He stood his ground, and when the first strike approached his heart, he raised a hand to deflect the rapier, passing over his left arm, missing by inches. When the next lunge came, he blocked it with his open palm, causing sparks to emerge from his gauntlet. Then, for the third one, his fingers wrapped around the blade and stopped its momentum cold, before he kicked Rachel back. “Much better. Your technique is quite refined, Warden,” he said, raising the rapier upwards to get a better look at it. “If you were more familiar with the basics of martial arts, instead of specialized in swordfighting, I think you could reach your true potential.” Taking a step backwards, he gave her a brief bow of respect. “Are you certain you do not wish to take up my offer?” Rachel went very still. She closed her eyes, and a flurry of emotions crossed her face as she considered her next action. Oh God, Rachel, DON’T! Rachel opened her eyes. A smile broke across her face like the sun peeking through dark clouds. She looked… at peace. “I’ll join you,” she said. “On MY terms.” And with that she whipped around and grabbed the nearest soldier in the front row by the throat. She smashed his head against the courtyard stones, and the human blood-scent rippled through the gathered vampires like a physical wave. Rick nearly lost hold of his spell, he wanted it just as badly as they did. But the guards stepped forwards, blocking his view, and for a precious second, he was forgotten. Rachel’s shriek was louder than the soldier’s last scream, and it wasn’t human. NOW NOW NOW! Rick lunged for his sword and slashed the air in front of him, and the veil parted. He fell through it into the Winter snow. There was no time to close the portal, no time to do anything but run. So he ran. It wasn’t long before he heard that same shriek behind him. Marcine’s SwS reveals one of Roqueza’s Aspects and a stunt. These are your rewards: Battle-Worn Pragmatist CQC: When an Attack or Create Advantage action made against you based on fighting in melee fails, you may automatically generate an Aspect of your choice related to your defense, or one Boost.
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Oct 11, 2016 01:54
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Sweet Ride Scene: On the Road to Baton Rouge Angie’s rental car was a sleek little black sports car with only two seats. “I want Rico to myself for a while,” was all she said when she pulled up outside the shelter in it. There was barely room for her rifle case in the trunk, but she managed to wedge it in there. The others piled into Marcine’s car, which was sitting a bit lower than it normally did with all the excess weight, and they agreed to meet back up at the cabin. --- The car’s engine was noisy enough to cover the silence between them for a while, as Shreveport faded into the distance. Rick watched the forest grow up around the highway, as if it were burying them inside a green tunnel. “Did you contact the Fellowship about Roqueza?” he asked, once it was clear she wasn’t going to say anything. “Yes,” she said. “You know most of it, but the Elders remember more than we’ve ever written down. Which is why a friend of mine is going to meet us at a safehouse in Baton Rouge. Or rather, we’re going to meet him.” Rick raised an eyebrow. The Elders weren’t just the oldest members of the Fellowship, they were its leaders and teachers. He’d only ever met one, for a few minutes during his ‘graduation’ ceremony at the end of his initial six months of training, and it had been… interesting. “Is that why it’s just us right now?” “He doesn’t need anyone else to know he’s here,” she said. But she frowned, as if that wasn’t the real reason. “You don’t really want me to stay behind do you?” she added, after a slight pause. Of course she’d overheard that. He sighed, and decided to be honest. “No, I really don’t. But I don’t want to mess up your life because I walked into it, either. At this point, we only sorta know how to get into the city, and we don’t have a clue how to get out. It’s a roach motel. We’ve got Winter’s blessing, but Winter tends to hand out double-edged swords...” Angie’s hands tightened on the wheel. “I’m going because I want to help. You need me, but so does the other-you, and the rest of the people trapped inside. God only knows what the Reds have been up to in there when they’ve got no reason to hide behind their flesh masks.” It was a sobering thought, and Rick went quiet. Angie slammed her foot on the brake and the car screeched to a halt in the the middle of the empty two lane highway. “Angie! What the hell?!” Rick yelled, pinned behind the seat belt. “If you’re going to mope, get out of my car. I don’t have time for it, and neither does anyone else.” She unlocked the doors with the button, just to make her point. He looked in the side-view mirror at his own worried face. Rachel used to tease him about it getting stuck that way. Strange, that he remembered that, and so little else. “Mab wouldn’t point us in that direction unless we had a shot,” he said, finally. “We’ll... just have to figure the rest of it out as we go.” “Exactly!” Angie said, flicking another button. The convertible roof peeled back, exposing them to the sunlight and the muggy June air. It hitched once, but managed to correct itself. “You’d better not hex my beautiful car,” she added, giving him a dirty look. Rick laughed and reached for the radio dial, finally smiling. “I wouldn’t dare.” He leaned back in his seat and listened to Boston duel with the squeal of tires and the roar of the engine as Angie floored it. --- They’d passed the city limit signs and were well into Baton Rouge proper when he turned the radio down again. Angie had given up trying to get the convertible top to go back up, and was wiping the sweat off her forehead with one hand. It was stifling now that they were stuck in city traffic. “So who is this guy?” Rick asked, shading his eyes with one hand as he looked at the buildings they were driving past. “Anything I need to know about him?” “His name is Flavio Cruz, and he’s an artist.” “That’s it?” She nodded. “Just be honest and answer his questions, and he’ll answer yours.” Rick looked suspicious. “His questions?” “Well, I had to explain why you were interested in Roqueza, didn’t I?” She smirked. “But really, he’s very nice, and your story interested him enough to fly up from Sao Paulo just to speak in person. That’s a rare thing for someone as old as Flavio.” “How old are we talking?” “I remember Napoleon,” Angie said, chuckling. “Flavio remembers da Vinci.” “drat,” was all Rick could say to that.
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Oct 14, 2016 17:42
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Warden Breeport Scene: Cabin “We were moving camp last night when they caught us,” Bree explained. She was sitting up on the couch, wrapped in blankets with some instant cocoa in her hands. Angie’s suggestion, based on what they had available. Warm liquid without caffeine was the most soothing thing for the newly infected. “It was an ambush. No warning, just… blinding light. Flashbangs. I couldn’t see straight for a while, or hear anything but ringing. Their rifles were heavy enough to blow our shields to pieces while we were still disoriented.” Rick and Angie had arrived not long after Marcine brought Nicky back to the cabin, and they barely had the chance to catch up before Bree woke up. They made her comfortable, but only just long enough that she could collect her thoughts. Time wasn’t on their side. It was nearly dinnertime and night would come soon after. “Flashbangs? I thought the Red Court couldn’t handle intense light,” Hugues asked, out of curiosity rather than accusation. “The vampires can’t - not without protection,” Elbridge supplied. “But a welder’s mask or the like would do, or they could have let their mortal thralls lead the attack. Reds aren’t the sort to risk their own skins unless they’ve gone completely feral.” “They wore masks,” Bree confirmed. She touched her side lightly, where Rupert had bandaged the claw-marks. “And they weren’t feral. The opposite, truly. We scattered, but...” She shook her head. “I was tossing mines behind me as I ran but after the first one blew the others were dispelled. So they’ve got at least one caster with them. Possibly more, I don’t know.” “Dispelled, or cut?” Elbridge asked. “We’ve confirmed that Roqueza has Warden Cole’s sword.” “I don’t think he was there.” She stopped and clutched at her mug. “It was his lieutenants. They all wear a patch with a fancy snake skull sewn on it. They’d been heading up the individual camps before. We’d never seen them all together like that.” “How many of them were there?” Hugues asked. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they got some humans for those flashbangs.” “Two in bat-shape, four human. But they didn’t move like people. The Captain got at least one of the bastards, but then I heard Morrison yell and there was a bloody earthquake that I’m sure was his death curse. I turned on the two following me, but they were close enough to make it a melee...” Elbridge nodded along quietly. This next question would be painful, but it had to be asked. “How was it that you were bitten?” If they’d infected even their sole escapee… Bree stared coolly at him. She’d been preparing herself for the question, and that was all that kept her from shaking when she answered. “They tried to question me out in the woods, and when that didn’t work I was beaten within an inch of my life and held down while one…” She stopped, took a deep breath, and continued. “I pretended to be unconscious while they argued over what to do with me. They didn’t have any humans for me to kill so I could turn, and they weren’t going to put me in their vehicle because I’d ruin all their fancy equipment. It was almost dawn, so they settled for chaining me to a tree with my mouth taped shut. It took a while, but I melted the lock and ran before they could come back for me.” Rick stopped pacing when she finished. “Do you know if anyone else made it out, or… Good spirits, Ford, what happened to Bellworth?” She shook her head. “I went to the rendezvous point first after I escaped, but there was no one there.” “Then they captured everyone,” Elbridge surmised. “The Red Court can march on New Orleans at will, and we’ll be behind them at every step. Rick, what’s our readiness?” Rick threw up his hands. “What readiness?!” “We’ve got all the information and equipment we gathered earlier,” replied Rupert, “That’s something, at least.” “This isn’t his style,” Marcine interrupted, looking up from toying with her brooch. “Leaving you in the woods is begging you to escape. And not nearly personal enough.” Her glance turned to the broken door. Not dark yet. But not far away. “So you were meant to.” Bree stared into her empty mug. “I didn’t know where else to go… I covered my tracks with magic, but I wasn’t thinking clearly, towards the end.” “You just did what was safest.” Marcine had already known, now that she thought about it, but it hadn’t come up. Maybe because too much was happening. Maybe because the others already knew, too, and it wasn’t worth mentioning. “Do we have a way to counter flashbangs?” she asked, voice strained. “And stronger anti-tracking measures and somewhere else to plot from?” “No, or we wouldn’t still be here,” Rick said, more on edge than she was used to hearing him. “Just settle down until we figure out what we’re doing.” “That would be part of ‘figuring out what we’re doing,’” she said flatly. “Shouldn’t we be worrying about not getting killed before anything else? Flashbangs were in your memories, too. This isn’t a freak incident.” He looked up sharply at her. “They were? When-”  Transient People: ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL It’s the start of a new scene! Mild Consequences clear. mistaya fucked around with this message at 23:47 on Oct 29, 2016 |
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Oct 29, 2016 22:58
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Disco Inferno, Round 4 Scene: What’s Left of the Cabin Cole sidestepped Bree’s lunge and skewered the gunner that Marcine had already tagged with her shotgun. It was easy. So very easy, to just kill a man, instead of some regenerating vampire or armor-covered demon or scaled snake god. He’d never… Not now, do what you have to do. For Bree. He kept the image of the grenade imploding inside his shielded cage firmly in the front of his mind. They wanted to kill him and everyone he cared about, and they’d come drat close. One left. (Cole, Combat: /+// +5 = 6. Defense: //-++4 = 4, since his second box was full from Marcine’s earlier attack, he ded.) Hugues carefully crawled his way back inside Elbridge’s cabin, keeping his head low and leaning against the wall as he moved. The vampires were still out there, attacking. Mostly huddled up in the vehicle. He wouldn’t be able to do much now, but he could at least leave an opening for someone else. Sliding his slingshot out of the bag he pulled back on the rubber to get it set, but felt a sharp sting in his head when he tried to activate the magic sitting in it. It wasn’t holding in the slingshot very well. He was going to need to use something more. Despite the splitting headache he got from just trying to stand up, Hugues pointed his slingshot out the window and at the van, channeling whatever he could into the slingshot. “Prapūsti!” (Combat CA /-// +4 = 3… vs van’s -/+++5 = 6! well poo poo. Popping my fourth FP to avoid giving it a success with style. Puck passes to the sniper.) The wind pellet crackled hard as it impacted on the window of the van...but the reinforcement kept it from breaking apart. Hugues never got to see the result of the attack, however, as immediately after firing he ended up stumbling back and onto the floor. Meanwhile, the shooter unflinchingly continued to aim - this time not at him, but at the man who’d fractured the van’s tinted glass. The rifle roared, its high-velocity bullet covering the distance between it and Elbridge in an instant... (Sniper takes a shot at El. Gets a result of +8, and invokes Supernatural Crack Shot to up by 2. El rolls and gets a +6 and raises with The Forbidden Sage. His tacky Hawaiian shirt defends him and so he only ticks off his third stress box! Puck goes to Marcine next.) The trick with blocking bullets was to not block bullets. Even the best shield spell would collapse quickly under sustained fire. It was far easier to give them a slight nudge in the right direction - which was to say, away from the caster’s soft tissues and vulnerable organs. Elbridge flicked out his hand, and the shot went wide, missing him altogether. The hail of wooden splinters and iron nails where it struck the cabin wall...that was another matter. Elbridge’s back suddenly felt cold and wet, prickling numbly in a dozen different spots. He didn’t have to look to know that he was bleeding. He didn’t have time to look to see how badly he was bleeding. Marcine moved into view of the fight with each step in time with her song. She’d dealt with the gunners, she thought, detached; and the van had quite the windshield decoration. She swept her hand toward it as if in graceful invitation, and her voice burst to an ear-splitting pitch focused straight at the vehicle. The ice in the windshield vibrated with resonance--and then so did the bulletproof glass, cracks spidering from the center as she sustained the note. (Will vs Diff 3: -//-+4 = 2, FPing on Singer to the Soul to raise that to +4 and place the boost “Shattered Glass.” Pass to El.) “Thank you,” Elbridge told her, inclining his head slightly, and then returned his attention to the vampiric sniper. “Vigama,” he said simply. The nearer half of the icicle-lance exploded and took the entire tinted windshield with it. Nothing else stood between the vampire and the midsummer sun. Still staked to the driver’s seat by the broken end of the spear, the vampire shrieked, struggled, flailed uselessly, and expired messily. Sam Raimi would have been proud. ((Elbridge rolls Combat to finish off the vampire: +/-- +6 = 5. Tagging “Shattered Glass” for a reroll, -+/+ +6 = 7, better, and- Elbridge triggers a SPECIAL EFFECT, revealing the van’s Aspect of “Windscreen Weak Point”. Vampire rolls at a penalty to defend, with no Armor: -/-/ +4 = 2. That’s a Success with Style for Elbridge, but a moot point because a five-shift success with W: 2 = sayonara, bloodsucker! Teep’s note: This was originally a much worse result. Note to self: Always inform players about the existence of the fight’s mechanics!) Cole covered the back of his head with one hand and ducked reflexively as the the van’s glass shattered directly behind him. The explosion drowned out the last of Marcine’s mental knock-out, and when he looked up again he was staring down the barrel of a machine gun. But that didn’t matter, because Bree was already on the gunner. There was no way to stop her in time. One last shot reported from the inside of the ruined cabin. Angie’s- No, Bree’s last shot. (Angie fires! Combat +++/ +5 = 8. A ghastly roll of 2 ends the battle!) The light went out of the gunner’s eyes as he collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. Cole dropped to his knees. Was it over? He looked behind him, but the only thing left inside the van was a charred husk. Bree shook the corpse she was still holding, but there was no response. Cole closed his eyes. He didn’t want to watch what she’d do next, and stopping her would just make the frenzy last longer. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sword hand and smeared sticky red over half his face. When had… Oh. Not his. Barely any of it was his, just a few scratches from when the grenade went off. He’d been very lucky. Not everyone else had. He almost tripped over the bodies on his way to the van. Had to find out if there was anything in it, any more nasty surprises, or tracking devices, or clues to where the hell they came from. He checked underneath but didn’t see any tape or flashing lights, so he opened the driver’s side door and snapped his fingers to melt Elbridge’s icicle stake. Once freed, the vampire’s remains fell out the door into a heap, along with the gigantic AMR. Cole pulled the rifle free and leaned it against the side of the van. It weighed a ton, normal humans couldn’t even shoot it without using a turret mount. Spirits, Hugues under fire from this monster… It didn’t bear thinking about. They were used to fighting things with teeth and claws and tentacles, who could call fire and lightning from the sky, but this enemy was different. They weren’t prepared for this level of modern weaponry, they’d never had to be. (Notice: ++/+ +5 = 8! Stunt generates 2 aspects on a SWS. Reveals the van’s remaining Aspects: ‘Hexproof’ and ‘The Big Gun’ I was also promised there’s no tracker or bomb on the vehicle.) The first thing he noticed was that the radio was still on. “President Trump leaves for his first visit to Russia today, in light of-” said the newscaster. Cole shook his head and turned it off. There was no way in hell that should still work after Elbridge’s icicle exploded at such close range. This vehicle had hexproofing that was better than the dragon-van’s. And leather seats! Shame about the big hole punched through the driver’s chair, but he could live with that. Hell, it still had that new-car smell, underneath the stench of overcooked vampire. He turned the keys, still in the ignition, and it actually started. “This’ll do,” he said, as he turned it off and pocketed the keys. mistaya fucked around with this message at 20:51 on Nov 5, 2016 |
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Nov 5, 2016 20:48
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Sticks and Stones Scene: Cabin Remains Cole was still sitting in the driver’s seat when Bree stood up. Her knees were shaking, and she stared at her hands as if she didn’t recognize them. He honked the van’s horn lightly and she jumped, turning on the source of the sound. Her eyes were back to normal, but her face was a mask of blood. She’d been chin deep in one of the PMC soldiers, so it was understandable, but it still made Cole wince. He opened the door and stepped out of the van. “You back, Ford?” “I… I don’t know…” she said. “But it’s quiet. It’s quiet, for the first time.” He gave a sigh of relief and waved for her to follow him to the well, or what was left of it. “Let’s get you cleaned up then.” Bree nodded. She clutched herself protectively, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, leaving dark streaks on her cloak that quickly flaked off. The pump was mercifully intact and Cole levered it until water filled the wooden half-barrel below it. Bree dropped to her knees and rinsed her hands and arms, then splashed her face repeatedly, scrubbing until the stains were gone. “Thank you,” she said quietly, when she’d finished. His face was a blank mask as he shrugged. “Sure.” “No, I mean… for following me out there. You didn’t have to do that.” “Hey, we’re Wardens. You’d do the same thing for me.” He reached over to give her shoulder a squeeze, but she pulled back before he could touch her. “Sorry.” She looked ashamed. “It’s okay, I get it,” Cole said, pulling back to give her a little more space. “I didn’t,” Bree said. She wiped her eyes dry with her hand and kept them fixed on the dirty water in the barrel. “Paul took over for Rachel once she died… After what happened to you two I was terrified it would be him next. And it was, but not the way I thought. At least he’s still human.” Cole figured Paul’s injuries must be terrible if they kept him off active duty, as dire as things were. “Don’t say it that way, Ford. You’re human.” She shrank, holding herself tighter and hunching her shoulders. “I don’t feel human.” “Bullshit. You feel miserable, guilty, and sick to your stomach. That’s all human. The vampire part is busy sleeping off a Thanksgiving Day food coma.” Bree turned her head just enough to spot one of the dead PMC men. “I don’t know what to do, Cole. I have no control over myself, and your mission is so important. You can’t afford to carry dead weight.” “That’s why Roqueza let you go,” Cole said. He was starting to understand how the crafty old bat thought, and it wasn’t pleasant. “Leading his men here was just a bonus.” “I can try to make it back on my own,” she said, straightening a little. “You did it.” “To Edinburgh?” He snorted. “gently caress that. I’ll give you an address and some keys. Take Angie’s rental back to Baton Rouge. There’s a safehouse there. You need the Fellowship, not the White Council.” “I need to talk to Paul. I need to tell him.” Cole shook his head. “You will, but first you need a dunk in the river and a cleansing ritual to get rid of whatever Roqueza’s using to track you. We should probably shave your hair too, just in case.” Bree tugged on a lock of her pretty blonde hair and sighed miserably. “You’re right.” He offered her a hand up and, hesitantly, she took it. “Cole… I have a confession.” “Hmm?” “That nickname... ‘Red Rick’? I started it. I was scared of you, and it was less scary once I made it into a joke. I started saying it while you were still gone, at Fellowship training. I didn’t mean for it to catch on like that, but it did and I’m sorry.” Cole stared at her in shock. The ugly name had followed him throughout the war and people still said it occasionally when he went back to Edinburgh. He’d probably never truly get rid of it. “Karma’s a bitch, right?” she said, quietly. “At least Red Bree doesn’t have a ring to it,” he said, playing it off. “Sounds too much like a fancy cheese.” “Cole…” “Forget about it. Go wash up.” “Okay.” She started towards the creek behind the cabin. He meant to follow her, help her with her hair and the other counter-tracking measures, but he couldn’t get over what she’d told him. She’d always said it like a joke, but others had used it as a weapon, and it was hard to forgive that. He tried to take his own advice and forget about it. They had enough problems, and despite Roqueza’s best efforts, he wasn’t about to let Bree become one of them. He headed back to the cabin to gather the others. No matter what they decided to do next, one thing was clear: it was time to get the hell out of dodge.
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Nov 6, 2016 02:52
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Tommy and Gina Scene: New Orleans, early spring, 2012 The sign read ‘The Gilded Lily’ in neon white, with “GRAND RE-OPENING!!!’ painted underneath. ‘Cold drinks, hot music, and a kick-rear end crew of local talent!’, according to the flyer he found in the dirt next to the door. The fine print went into the history of the hidden music hall in the basement of an old speakeasy, (upstairs still under renovations). He gave the building a once-over. Empty of people and only partially rebuilt, it looked haunted. Which, according to the phone message he’d gotten that morning, was in fact the problem. A woman met him at the door. She looked unassuming, aside from her floppy, navy blue hat. It would have been silly looking even without the white costume feathers, but she made it work somehow. “Warden Cole?” she asked, eyeing his cloak with the same level of trust she might give to a stray dog. “Marcine Sterling.” She offered her hand, checking to see if he’d bite. “Just Cole is fine,” he said, forcing a smile. He shook her hand firmly and professionally. But he couldn’t help raising an eyebrow at the power of the spark that passed between them, the one that marked them as fellow practitioners. Minor talents didn’t usually pack that much of a punch. “What’s the trouble?” Her expression shifted, and he wondered if he’d been a little less impressive power-wise than she’d expected from a Warden. It wouldn’t be the first time. But she didn’t mention it. “Classic vengeful ghost story. Guy named Louis got stiffed, got in a fight, and ended up dead when the other guy--Brad--defended himself. Apparently Louis has some unresolved issues.” She waved him inside. “He’s been animating the equipment to attack people. I checked in to see if I could deal with it, but… You’ll see for yourself.” Marcine led him downstairs, through the empty seats and up onto the stage. Even with the lights on it had that skin-crawling ‘get the hell out of here’ aura that would keep normal people from coming to see the shows. He’d felt it plenty of times before. “You definitely did the right thing, calling for help,” he said. “If your ghost’s grudge runs that deep, he’s not going to stop until someone makes him.” “No kidding. I tried to figure out where the demesne is, but the magic’s so thick I can’t tell from here.” She grimaced. “He already injured a couple stagehands and choked a guitarist. I didn’t feel like joining them in the hospital.” Cole didn’t blame her. Poltergeists were dangerous as heck, and if you didn’t know how to draw them out you couldn’t even attack them back. He drew his sword and stepped past the first set of curtain ropes into the backstage area, but they didn’t react to his presence. That was a good sign, it meant Louis wasn’t attacking indiscriminately. “Any common theme between the people he’s hurt?” She answered like she’d practiced it .“Paul was doing a rock variety tribute--Bon Jovi and Guns N’ Roses, that sort of thing. Nobody can remember what he was practicing at the time and he’s fuzzy on the whole thing. Dave was helping him arrange the program. I didn’t get the chance to talk to Martin. Susan was with Dave and didn’t get attacked, but I don’t know if that had a reason behind it or if it was just luck. Didn’t want to try mine.” He motioned for her to follow him backstage. “We’re going to have to figure out his triggers. He might only be after men, or men who remind him of his killer. Or he might not make a distinction. Ghosts see what they want to.” She crossed the empty floor like a wary cat, watching the shadows, but nothing moved as she joined him. “Brad also had some Bon Jovi songs planned.” “As good a lead as any. I’ll try singing, if that doesn’t work we’ll get a guitar.” He reached for the rope and tugged the curtains partly open, revealing the stage for their impromptu show. “You uh… you sure no one else is here?” “Just us and a ghost. No one’s wanted to set foot in here since the attacks.” Her expression not-at-all subtly said This should be good. Her name had been in the artists’ list in the flyer, which didn’t do a whole lot to bolster his confidence. Singing in the shower was as far as he usually went. He’d just have to swallow his pride and do it. He turned to the non-existent audience and took a deep breath. “SHOT THROUGH THE HEART, AND YOU’RE TO BLAME!” he half-sang, half-yelled. “YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME!” Something stirred above him, the dry rustle of rope on rope, the creak of wooden stairs. A sandbag fell out of the sky but he stepped to the side in true Ted Avery fashion and kept singing. Getting Louis’ attention was only the first step, he still had to convince him to manifest. “Well, he’s definitely pissed off.” Marcine was wrestling with diplomacy and losing. “I PLAYED MY PART AND YOU PLAYED YOUR GAME,” he continued, brandishing his sword in case something else jumped out at him. If she was going to laugh he might as well give her something to laugh at. But the louder he got the louder the ghost’s threatening noises became. “YOU GIVE LOVE-” That was as far as he got before a stray amp cord seized his ankle and yanked his feet out from under him. His head hit the floor and his sword jolted out of his hand. Marcine shouted something, but his immediate attention was on the stage ropes constricting around his neck. With a scrape and a glint of silver, another cord lifted up his sword and poised to swing it down at his throat just to be sure of the job. He tried to conjure a shield to defend himself but it flickered as his airway was cut off. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Marcine catch the hilt. The sword threatened to fight its way out of her hands, but a brief burst of flame seared the cord off, and she slammed the blade against the floor beside his head. The choking ropes went slack. She pulled the blade free and held it in guard position while he tore them off. “You okay?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the cords and ropes slithering around them like a pack of bizarre cobras. They weren’t attached to anything visible, just led off into the darkness at the edges of the stage. “Yeah, thanks,” he wheezed. He stood up quickly and snatched the sword back, ignoring the look of irritation she shot at him. At least she’d known how to swing it. Maybe she was in practical theatre? After a moment of quiet, the cords lost interest and slithered back into the darkness. He sighed, relieved at surviving such a close call. If he’d known Louis was this violent he’d have brought more friends. But he was mad now, and sore where he’d hit his head. “Second verse, same as the first. YOUR LOVE IS LIKE BAD MEDICINE! BAD MEDICINE IS WHAT I NEED, WHOA-OH!” “Stop it!” shouted a furious, echoing voice. “You stole my set list! And you’re terrible!” The speakers nearby gave a high-pitched whine of feedback. “Stop singing! Shut up!” Louis appeared near a drum set, semi-transparent and angry. The bloody gash on his head had to be the injury that had killed him. "Brad's long gone," Marcine tried to reason with him. "You're hurting people who have nothing to do with you." He didn't even glance in her direction. “He only sees what fits into his trauma,” Cole explained quickly. “We’re all Brad to him.” Her brow furrowed. “Then keep him annoyed for a minute. You’re doing great so far.” She started for the abandoned instruments. “I’m going to run out of Bon Jovi eventually,” he replied, raising his voice again. “WHOOOA! WE’RE HALF-WAY THERE! WHOA-HO! LIVING ON A PRAYER!” Louis let out a screech of rage and a full set of heavy drum cases launched into the air. Marcine was directly in the way, with no room to dodge. “TAKE MY HAND, AND WE’LL MAKE IT I SWEAR!” he threw a hand forwards. The cases slammed into his force shield and rocked to a stop. “IF YOU HAVE A PLAN, YOU REALLY SHOULD SHARE,” he added. (Louis gave another shriek at the improv.) She half-stumbled to her destination, grabbed an acoustic guitar, and got out of the line of fire as she slipped the shoulder strap over her head. She gave it a few strums rather than answer him, and started playing the opening notes of ‘Wanted Dead or Alive.’ Louis’ darkened eyes grew wider, until his face looked more like something out of a horror show than human. But he didn’t attack any more, instead his mouth opened and he started to sing along with her. “It’s all the same… Only the names will change! Every day, it seems we’re wasting away….” The stage curtain fluttered as if a wind had come up. ‘Louis Tippen, LIVE!’ floated above the spirit in red neon lights, and stage bulbs encircled him. A brilliant spotlight that wasn’t coming from anywhere in the room centered itself on Louis, and a ghostly guitar appeared in his hands. He strummed along with Marcine’s playing, crooning the lyrics in a surprisingly smooth voice. Cole shut up, letting the ghost get lost in his song. They were inside the demesne now, and the impossible stage was getting weirder by the second. Huge amps grew up like trees and theater seats sprouted at awkward angles. Getting close would be dangerous, but at least he had some cover now. He raised his sword and circled around behind Louis. Time for some ghost-busting. Marcine was watching his sword as he moved into position. She looked troubled, like she wanted to say something, but she just kept playing. It was enough to make him pause and at least consider his options. Sometimes all a ghost needed was a push in the right direction. New Orleans was one of the most haunted cities in America, and most of them were completely harmless... As the guitar solo came to a close, Marcine hit a single sour chord. Louis froze, and his head rotated too far to the side as he stared at her. “You’ve RUINED it!” he screamed, and all of her guitar strings snapped. She recoiled with a yelp and stared at her fret hand. So much for rehabilitation. Louis smashed his guitar in fury, and the floor rippled, knocking Marcine off her feet. The fifty-light rig overhead creaked as the wires holding it up snapped and it plummeted towards her. In an adrenaline-fueled lunge, Cole covered the last few feet of ground, grabbed the spectre by the shoulder and shoved his sword through its translucent spine. Louis let out a miserable wail. The gigantic light rig evaporated into dust as it collapsed over Marcine, leaving her dirty but unhurt, as the rest of the demesne fell apart. “I’m wanted... dead or alive...” Louis whispered as he slipped forwards off the blade. He turned to dust before he hit the stage. Cole wiped the sweat off his face with a sleeve. That had been much too close for comfort. He sheathed his sword and went to help Marcine up. His heart was still thumping, and he was feeling pretty good until he saw her hand. “Ah crap, you got a first aid kit around here?” “In my car,” she managed between dry coughs, brushing herself and the guitar off with her unbloodied hand while the other dripped on the floor. “Looks worse than it is.” “Let’s go then,” he said, offering her a small piece of conjured ice. “Need to get some fresh air after all that anyway. Think it needs stitching?” She stared at the ice for a moment before she accepted it. It melted rapidly in her hand, forming a glob of water. She ran it over the cuts to wash off the blood, then flicked it at an old drop sheet in the corner on her way off the stage. “No. I’ll be able to take care of it.” So much for helping. He felt guilty as he followed her back upstairs to the exit. The ghost was gone, but it’d been messy. He didn’t want to keep relying on Hugues and Elbridge to do his drat job, but if he’d been a few seconds slower Marcine would be in the hospital, if she was lucky. “His death was a waste,” Marcine remarked, interrupting his thoughts. “Sang too well to throw it away.” “Losing his dream broke him, I guess,” Cole said, with a small shrug. Mostly he just felt sorry for the real Louis. Dying over Bon Jovi covers was a hell of a way to go. “It was more like having his dream delayed a week,” she grumbled, and sighed. “If that made him willing to murder, the guy needed help.” “No argument there. Thanks for the help, by the way.” She nodded. “Thanks for responding. I didn’t know what to expect, besides trouble.” They’d reached her car, parked just outside (possibly illegally). “I can clean up.” “If you’re sure…” he said, but she was waiting for him to leave before she opened the trunk. He shrugged. “Alright. If anything else happens, give me a call.” He waved as he headed back to the dragon van.
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Nov 20, 2016 18:07
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An Extra Layer Scene: Back at the Cabin A few minutes after she’d closed them, Marcine opened her eyes, and then her hand. Something glowed in her palm like an incandescent filament. “This is it. We found a better option.” Elbridge paused in his chanting, but continued channeling magic into the spell. It was harder without the words to guide it, but not impossible. “Please, Marcine,” he grunted softly. “The suspense is killing Rick.” She dipped her metaphysical hand in to test the spell's current. El didn’t look like he was in any shape to guide her directly, but the spell itself suggested what to do. She pressed the memory filament against the collar. Under the Sight, the two spells were like magnetized wires, faintly repelling each other until she focused the spell to its purpose. Her own magic joined it, turning her understanding of both sets of memories into a bonding agent. They were both about protection, they both mattered to him, they were of the same nature... After some coaxing, the original spell accepted the new fragment and the pieces melded together readily. The tripwire of the collar flowed like molten metal. She gently teased it loose, not daring to push it when she felt it pulling back against her. She didn't have to. The new memory gave them exactly the slack they needed. “Ready for the shield,” she said, closing the Sight. Rupert nodded and dipped a fine paintbrush into a small pot of ink. Beginning an almost silent incantation, he began to trace a pattern on Cole’s neck - runes and geometric designs intertwined in a protective spell - each with a careful stroke of the brush. The pattern complete, Rupert placed the brush and pot aside and began the final incantation as the ink faded into Cole’s skin, leaving no trace, ”Des gardes magiques, gardez le sang de la vie.” (Rupert, Lore(Warding): +//+ +3 = +5) “Did it work?” Cole asked. His neck was stiff from sitting so still, and he just wanted it to be over with. “You’re intact.” Marcine sat back, but didn’t relax yet. “We should test it now, when we have a controlled environment. It won’t be the same as being in the thick of it, but if we can make sure the shield holds...” *tink* One of Rupert’s runes flared slightly on the side of Cole’s throat, and then faded. He touched the spot, but there was no cut. “I don’t want to press it further,” he said. “It works.” Her shoulders slumped tiredly. “Good.” “You sound surprised,” said Rupert, dryly. “There’s a difference between surprise and relief.” Marcine finally smiled. “Well. We did it.” “Good,” Elbridge said, smiling (actually smiling) for the first time since they’d left the shelter. He heaved a sigh of relief and weariness and slumped against the wall. “That’s...very good.” Cole tugged at his shirt collar self-consciously. “Feels like I’m wearing a scarf,” he said, giving Nicholas a sideways glance. He forced a smile as he looked back at the others. “Thanks guys. I really hope I won’t need it, but knowing it’s there helps.” “We all hope that.” Marcine’s gaze drifted to his Warden pin, and the feather tucked behind it. “But we don't have to rely on it.” She stood up to stretch; it had been quick, but draining. “Did we need to do anything else?” Cole shook his head. “Finish your makeup, and then I think it’s time to go.” mistaya fucked around with this message at 21:27 on Nov 27, 2016 |
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Nov 27, 2016 21:21
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Insurance Scene: Route 10, Duke Roqueza’s Military Camp Route 10 was deserted. Nobody visited New Orleans anymore. Speeding down the freeway with no restrictions due to the lack of other drivers made for a bizarre experience. The sun was down already, and the van’s lights were the only illumination for miles around. That, and the lights of the encampment up ahead. As soon as they got close, a floodlight shone down on them. “Who’s there?” a voice cried out. “Who the gently caress do you think, shitnugget?” Elbridge called out. It was a perfect imitation of a contemporary New York accent, picked up from years of having lived on-and-off in New York City. Elbridge’s own RP dialect was more a point of stubborn pride than anything - to be honest, it was more his Oxford education speaking than him. The silence was deafening. “You got the target with you?” A second voice asked, rougher and a little lower than the first. “Yeah,” Marcine said, mostly as a grunt as she tried not to choke, and pointed in the back. “Here.” “Mfffmrrrfff!” Rick added through his cloth gag, kicking the back of the seat vigorously. “There he is.” The second voice sounded quite satisfied. “The boss is waiting for them. Let them through.” Up ahead, a gate opened. Dim lights illuminated several tents, as well as some hastily constructed bunkers and an occupied gas station. And further up ahead, the dome that surrounded New Orleans. Another one of the mercs approached. “Over here, c’mon,” he said, gesturing towards the door. “Get him out, we’ll take it from here.” Rupert swung the van door open. Stepping out, he said gruffly, “And let you get all the credit? Ha! We can take him ourselves.” The mercenary, a fellow with a linebacker’s build and a hooked nose, grimaced. “Bah. Suit yourselves. C’mon, let’s get this over with.” Two more PMCs armed with assault rifles escorted the group to the bunker. Just outside the door, a pair of men wearing military gear marking them as captains stopped them. Vampires, from the looks of them. Without saying a word, they inspected Cole to make sure he was safely gagged and cuffed. The Duke would not tolerate surprises. “In.” That was all they said as they opened the door to the sandbagged bunker. The man they’d come looking for was waiting for them inside, his eyes glues to a map resting on top of an aluminum table. “Sir.” Elbridge gave a respectful salute. Roqueza had mustered these troops on short notice. That meant a working relationship, and that the Duke was in all probability a valued client. “Objective secured.” The Duke didn’t answer with words. He merely nodded, and gestured at a steel chair beside the door. Marcine had expected anxiety when she met Roqueza. She hadn’t expected her legs to lock in place just inside the doorway. She managed to keep her expression neutral, but her hand twitched, longing to grab a gun--or Finch’s sword--and she half-expected him to hear her increased heart rate. She forced herself to take her eyes off him by trying to see if the map would provide anything useful. (Notice: /++++4 = 7) The Duke was working with a map of New Orleans. Of this, there was no doubt. Pinned to the table, it had had several circles drawn on it with red marker - at least five or six, and there could’ve been more she couldn’t see from this angle. A few drawn around specific sections of the slums, but most were centered on the commercial and financial sectors of the city. What possible purpose could they serve for a vampire? Angie pushed Cole into the chair. He hunched his shoulders and kept his eyes down. It was what he’d done before, according to Marcine. He’d asked, on the ride over. Better to play the coward’s part now, not tip his hand that he’d been preparing for this. The Duke made another gesture, this time directed at his guards and the mercenaries who’d brought in his target. The message was clear. Leave us alone. Marcine unbuckled Finch’s sword and left it propped in its sheath near the door, apparently as something for the Duke to look at when he wasn’t busy. She didn’t want to leave Rick. She also didn’t want to admit how easy it was to do so if it meant getting away from Roqueza. --- The door shut behind Rick, leaving him alone with the Duke in the penumbra of the bunker. "I'll give you this," he said, his quiet voice just above a whisper, his face turned away from him, focused on the map's contents. “Only a man of true worth finds himself face to face with a trap, yet finds it within himself to charge into it anyway. Your courage earns my respect, Warden." It’d felt too easy from the start, but Cole didn’t let that push him to take whatever bait Roqueza might be offering. “You should have killed me when you killed my friends,” he said, bringing his eyes up just enough to glare at the man-shaped monster in front of him. He hadn’t thought he’d be this calm when they finally came face to face again. Fragments of lost memories swirled in the back of his mind, but he was too focused on his enemy to feel any temptation. “What do you want?” “For you to stop being foolish and face death with dignity. Did you truly think the men I handpicked would be so incompetent as to not check more thoroughly for spies, knowing you wizards? Your assistants are under surveillance now, and will be exterminated the moment they lower their guard. Your kind understands nothing about proper strategy, Warden. You should stick to so-called wonderworking.” Cole sat back in the chair, listening to the sounds filtering in from outside. No shooting or screaming yet. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. “I’d have been happy to, but somebody engineered a loving war. So now I’m here, facing death. Don’t think dignity’s ever been in my cards though.” “If that is how you think, then perhaps I should flood this bunker with poison gas. An opponent who cannot even believe in himself is not worth killing.“ There was a pause. “I know what you’re thinking. No, your friends are not dead, yet. They will get their chance, as will you.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Disposing of one’s enemies is best left as a last resort or a measure to deal with worthless insects. It is much better to bring them to your side, wouldn’t you say? I will test your allies’ worth. If they can get past my mercenaries and subordinates, and survive what I have prepared for them...well then, the survivors will make fine additions to my retinue of spellcasters, don’t you think?” Cole smirked. “I think you’re going to need the replacements.” “We shall see, Warden. We shall see.” The Duke stood up, faced him...and ripped his face off and held it up, revealing another, still human face. It was a mask. And in his other hand… “I was wondering if you’d try to pull any tricks while we were alone,” the microphone blared, relaying his words. “Good to see you can at least observe proper etiquette while in another’s home. Step outside. I’ll be waiting.” The door clicked open. The way forward was cleared. Cole pulled the slipknot loose and dropped his ‘cuffs’ on the floor. No point in faking it any longer. He picked up his sword belt and put it back on, giving the fake-Duke a withering glare. The man was insurance, in case he’d decided to suicide his death curse at the first opportunity. Probably not the first time Roqueza’d had to dodge that sort of thing. The Duke thought he knew everything. They would have to prove him wrong, or they’d end up proving him right. And that was flat out unacceptable. He walked outside, head held high.
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Dec 7, 2016 02:18
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Fatal Duel, part II Scene: Dueling Grounds ((BGM CHANGE: http://www.infinitelooper.com/?v=-Jdeq7r-hqk&p=n)) Rachel’s last words ran through Cole’s head on loop. The glob of spit ran down his cheek like the rain from that night. He couldn’t not think about her anymore. Not after that. The collar flashed as a memory escaped it, and another. He saw Rachel charge Roqueza, saw her get slapped out of the air, mocked. And he saw her last look, the promise they’d made, that he would get out and bring the Wardens back to destroy the place. Her face. He remembered her face. Eyes widening, staring at something far beyond the vampire standing above him, he reigned in the impulse to take more back, to take all of it back. Rupert’s shield was already strained to the breaking point, he could hear the cutting wire grinding against it inside his head. Slowly, his eyes came back into focus as he realized where he was. Rick laughed. It was a pitiful, broken laugh, with just a hint of crazy. “You think I didn’t wish I could have traded with her every night, asked myself a million times why she would have done it, why she would have sold herself for me?!” He glared up at Roqueza, with a sudden burst of confidence. It came from something that had been taken from him, but now he had it back. “She knew me better than I did. She knew I wouldn’t leave her like that, that I’d finish the mission, make drat sure your base was ashes and rubble within a night. Maybe I’m a lovely swordsman, compared to her, or you, but you know what, Roqueza!? I’m really loving hard to kill!” ((Cole compels “Rather Be Damned With You” to pull the full memory of that night from his Collar, which is now on a countdown for as long as Rupert’s shield holds. Cole FP: 4/5! Rolls Notice to get some intel on getting rid of Roqueza’s nastier stunt: /+++ +5 = 8! The gauntlets are the key to his CQC stunt. SWS gives a second infodump: He also has a stunt that lets him inflict a consequence for a FP if he hits his target, so ouch.)) The Duke’s eye shone with contempt. “Of course you’d come running to your betters so they could take care of your own business when you could not.” His hand balled up into a fist. “I think it’s time for you to die, Warden.” ((Roqueza attacks again, seeking to maintain his momentum. +-//+6 = 6 vs. --++ +4 = 4 means a hit. Roqueza uses “It’s Useless!” to achieve a SwS, downgrades to get the boost “Relentless Onslaught”, and then spends an FP to activate Assassin’s Blow (his consequence inflicting stunt). Rick takes the Mild consequence of “Beaten Up”, and ticks off his second stress box. Round 7 closes on that note. Roqueza FP remaining: ⅓ (Plus GM pool of 4/4))) Cole held both forearms in front of his face, which saved him from losing teeth, but Roqueza just switched to body shots, and his ribs were not going to hold up for very long. But as he turned his head in the cold mud, wondering if his luck really had run out this time, he saw something gleaming not far away. Finch’s sword. They’d been rolling around on the ground for so long that he’d almost gotten to it. Pinned as he was, there was no way to reach it but- He slapped his hand on the muddy ice and a short pillar popped up under the sword. It didn’t launch into the air heroically, but it did roll towards his hand with some purpose. He grabbed it before Roqueza could kick it out of the way and smiled even as he nearly had the wind knocked out of him again. Things were starting to turn around! Maybe! ((Cole uses Will to retrieve his sword, /--+ +5 = 4, which is barely good enough.)) Roqueza’s response was to punch him. Harder. It wouldn’t take much more to make Rick’s ribs break. ((Another attack, seeking to fill up that stress track. /-+-+6 = 5 vs. /+-/ +5 = 5. Tie! We’ll leave it as is. Roqueza gets the boost “On The Offensive”. End Round 8!)) There wasn’t time for finesse if he wanted to save himself. Cole waited for the next punch to land and then slashed at the mailed fists, specifically the straps tying them to the vampire’s arms. The rapier didn’t have much of a cutting edge, but the gauntlets were old, and they’d taken a lot of abuse over the centuries. It shouldn’t take all that much. Of course he saw what Cole was trying to do, but that only mattered if he could stop it. Roqueza didn’t have a choice, had to let Cole up to stop him from cutting the leather straight through. Cole winced and staggered upright, holding his side with one hand and his sword with the other. “Not yet,” he choked out. “Worse things than you have tried.” He laughed again, dizzy and punch drunk. “loving spirits, you couldn’t even do it right the first time.” ((So Cole tries to take advantage of his earlier Notice roll to get rid of Roqueza’s gloves. -++/ +5 = 6. He defends -+++ +6 = 8, so of course that doesn’t work. Raise on the boost “Weak Straps” to tie, FP once to tie at 10 after Roqueza spends “On The Offensive”, then FP again to tie at 12 when Roqueza spends “Relentless Onslaught”, which takes out half of the CQC stunt, he can no longer generate boosts on failed attacks. Cole FP: 2/5)) Roqueza’s eye glinted with rage.“There was no first time, Warden,” he growled. “This will be the first time we duel...and the last duel you’ll ever fight!” And with that, he lunged forward, seeking to crush the annoying pest before him once and for all. ((No fooling around. Roqueza goes for another attack, seeking to breach Rick’s defenses. ////+6 = 6 vs. +/// +5 = 6. Tie game! Roqueza collects the boost “Seizing The Advantage.” End Round 9!)) Cole was forced to cede ground under the rapid assault, but he parried every blow. “Oh, that’s right, you sent an infant after me instead of coming yourself last time,” he said with disgust, once he had enough air for a breath. His eyes turned hard, as the second memory he’d recovered replayed in his mind. “It took a week to clean her off the train tracks.” ((Will CA: //-+ +5 = 5, succeeds. “Spring-Steel Resolve”)) “You deserved no better. Why would I waste the time of a truly valuable associate with ending your life?” the duke shot back, coldly. “I tire of this. It’s time for you to die the death you truly deserve.” He dropped to a crouch and swept his legs from underneath him, knocking him prone. Before Rick could get up, he felt Roqueza’s boot slam against the back of his head. All around him, the jeers and hollers of the soldiers and vampires who’d gathered to watch the fight filled the air. ((Roqueza launches his attack. +-+++6 = 8! Vs. /--- +5 = 2. You sure love to troll, Krysmbot...Rick rerolls with Spring-Steel Resolve and gets a +--+ +5 = 5, much better. Roqueza invokes “Seizing the advantage” to turn his result into a 10, then downgrades by one shift to get the boost “Crushing a cockroach”. Armor takes the sting off the hit, so Rick just ticks off his second stress box. Current HP: XXOO. Round 10 is over.)) The Duke raised his boot to smash Cole’s skull into the ground, and all Cole could do was curl up into a ball. Everything hurt so badly, it would be much easier to just lie still, and let it end. He’d never been a match for this monster. He’d known that. Everyone had. Rachel had. At least he’d remembered her face, even if only for a few moments. “Nceda,” he whispered desperately, into the mud. Help. His magic flared instinctively, a glowing dome of force unlike his regular, rectangular shields. This one was made of tiny hexagons, like the compound eyes of an insect. He braced himself, waiting for the vampire to stomp right through it. *CLANG!* A loud, metallic sound resonated throughout the camp, like the ringing of a bell, and Rick’s ears with it. But in spite of it, he felt…nothing. No more pain. No more hurting. No more yelling. Just silence, broken only by the Duke’s expression of his discontent. “Bah. So you’ve finally resorted to your cowardly tricks, haven’t you, wizard?” He said, his voice burning with hatred as he pulled his boot back. “No matter. This will still be your grave either way.” Cole stared at him, or rather, a thousand refractions of him through the shield. It shouldn’t have worked. He’d been so convinced that it wouldn’t that he hadn’t even tried, hadn’t wanted to risk relying on something that Roqueza’s geas would cut straight through. But it hadn’t. He took a few quiet breaths, considering the new possibilities. A thin smile crossed his lip, which started bleeding again. It didn’t matter, this... changed things. ((So Cole discovers that shields do in fact work, and gains 2 FP back on “(Over)Thinking with Portals” for being a dumbass. Cole FP: ⅘. This covers round 11, we’re skipping it for DRAMAAAAAA.)) “You’re the one who said I’m not a swordsman.” He spat the blood out and pushed himself back to his feet. The shield didn’t fade, it just shed a few hexagons and fastened to his arm. He nodded his head once, holding it at the ready. It felt good, like a missing piece had been restored. “Now, let’s try this again.” Roqueza didn’t answer him with words. Instead, he wound up his arm as much as he could, dashed forward, jumped, and came down fist-first, using his full force, yelling as loudly as his damaged larynx could manage. ((Roqueza goes ham. Rick defends with theoretically even odds against him. [03:42] <Krysmbot> TransientPeople, +++/+6 = 9 <Krysmbot> mistaya, +/-/ +6 = 6 ...Never trust the odds before accounting for Krysmbot. Rick Full Defends, raising to 8 so he doesn’t take stress, but Roqueza takes ‘Filthy Mages!’ as a boost. That’s round 12.)) The shield held, but only just, and Roqueza’s onslaught was relentless. Blow after blow rained down as the Duke tried to punish Rick for daring to bring magic to a fight amongst men. But still, the shield held. It took all of Rick’s focus to keep it going, but while it did strain, losing hexes, it quickly repaired itself. Much like his spirit, it refused to break! ((Roqueza takes his THREE free tags and decides to go for a big loving hit here. --++ +6 = 6 vs. -+-+ +6 = 6 means it’s a tie. Roqueza invokes “Crushing a Cockroach” and “Filthy Mages!” to raise to 10, scoring a SWS, but Rick Full-Defends to reduce it to just a success by 2, not enough to cause stress...so Roqueza invokes “Beaten Up”, Rick’s consequence, to get over the hump. Rick counter-invokes “The Thin Grey Line” with an FP, however, and Roqueza makes no damage stick! He takes the boost, “Duke’s Fury” for this. Round 13 ends with the Duke down to a single boost. Cole FP: 3/5)) “Die. Die. Die, die, DIE!” For the first time since the fight had begun, the Duke’s composure cracked, revealing the bloodthirsty side of his personality that had led him to become the Red Court’s top assassin. This was as much a clash of spirits as it was of muscle vs magic. Neither man dared to stop attacking, nor defending - not when so much was on the line. ((This roll speaks for itself. <Krysmbot> TransientPeople, ++++ +6 = 10!!!!! <Krysmbot> mistaya, +/-- +6 = 5 Roqueza invokes Duke’s Fury to take his result to 12. Cole Full Defends and invokes Thin Grey Line again to avoid getting consequence’d. Roqueza is so mad he accepts giving Rick another ticked stress box. No more boost train! HP: XXXO. FP: 2/5. Round 14, DONE.)) A final haymaker did it. The shield couldn’t contain its power, and Roqueza’s mailed fist hit Rick squarely on the cheek, turning his head sideways and making him stagger backwards a few steps. Such was the force of the blow that even the Duke shook his hand, taking a moment to recover. “You are alone, Richter Cole. Nothing and no one can save you. Not even your fancy magical parlour tricks.” Slowly, determinedly, the Duke began walking forward, winding up his punch for a finishing blow. Cole’s entire arm had gone numb from the force of the shield shattering, and at least two of his teeth felt loose, but he hadn’t lost them yet. He hadn’t lost this yet. “Oh, I’ve got more where that came from,” he said, as the hex-crystals reformed on his arm. “But you seemed to like this one so much, let’s see it again! Nceda!” ((Roqueza has no boosts left. With even odds, can Cole survive without sacrificing his offense? Let’s find out! Roqueza gets a 5. Rick...also gets a 5. One final FP on Thin Grey Line makes it happen! Rick successfully defends against Roqueza! FP: 1/5)) The shield strained. Hexes flew into the air and disappeared. But this time, Cole smashed his gauntlets aside and went straight for the Duke’s side with Finch’s sword. He hadn’t been blindly getting his poo poo kicked in all this time. The hexes flashing as they broke and reformed had given him a pretty good idea of where those punches were coming from and where to aim once they were out of the way. It had taken far too long for comfort, but second blood had been drawn. As Finch’s blade plunged into his torso, Roqueza’s eye widened in surprise. “No....how?!” His voice was nothing more than a whisper, even as he struggled to hold the wounding blade in place, to prevent it from killing him outright. ((Oh hey, Cole gets to actually attack again! Combat: +/++ +5 = 8! Take that! Roqueza defends: -/-++6 = 5. Combined with Finch’s sword’s weapon rating, Roqueza takes a five-shift hit and is forced to spend a Mild Consequence and tick off his third box. Mild Consequence: “First Blood In Decades”. Duke’s HP: OOXO.)) It was a lightning fast reaction that saved Roqueza’s life then and there. Raising his right leg, he kicked Rick square in the chest, taking advantage of the way his focus was on his blade, and took a step back. “My sword...” he murmured. “GIVE ME MY SWORD!” From within the crowd, a blade came flying into the Duke’s raised hand. Seizing it, he took a few practice swings, and assumed a fighting stance. “A good attempt, Warden,” he said, as his flesh mask eroded, revealing the wounded, but very much alive vampire underneath. “But now we play by my rules.” “No, now we play by mine.” Cole held up the tiny paring knife that had been hidden in the chimera-skin sheath, and wiped Roqueza’s blood from his sword to that blade. Old magic like this required sympathy and sacrifice. From both parties. He smeared his own blood from his split lip on the opposite side, and cast the blade down to stick into the earth between them. “Winter wolf, you call me son. I would fight mine enemy on TRUE neutral ground, unblessed, unsanctified, until only one survives.” He could feel his eyes burning. “Ehlukanisa!” The veil was torn asunder. And suddenly, they weren’t in Kansas anymore. ((Cole uses a one-shot magical item he’d prepped in advance for this. (He made it on the drive back to the cabin in Angie’s car.) It immediately sends two combatants to
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Dec 20, 2016 08:55
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Good Morning, Sunshine Scene: Prison Bunker Laura’s eyes opened slowly. She didn’t know where she was at first, but at least the horrible ache in her chest was fading. The memory of the last day and a half filtered back into her conscious mind as she pushed at the ground with both hands to sit up. Hadley was there, trying to help, but she shoved his hand away. She needed a measure of her own weakness. It took a few tries, but soon she was upright. The sigh of relief she gave at managing just that much was more of a wet wheeze. “Mnnnf,” she grunted, pantomiming reaching behind her shoulder for a pommel. The meaning was clear enough. Where’s my sword? She would have added And where are my men? but that wasn’t so easy to communicate anymore. “I missed you too, Laura.” Elbridge magicked a measure of clean water into his stolen canteen and passed it to her. “I’m not sure where your sword is, but I do know where to find the vampire who did this to you. Perhaps you can ask him nicely.” Ask him, she thought, rolling her eyes. Hilarious. Laura knew she needed water after being unconscious for… how long? It didn’t matter. She was dehydrated and exhausted. But still she eyed the canteen dubiously before tilting it up to her mouth. A quick sip was all she managed without a coughing fit. There was a red smear on her hand when she wiped her lips. Frustrated, she punched the ground and forced herself to drink the rest of it, even though it hurt fiercely. How’s that saying go? Bite your tongue and bear it? She shoved the canteen back into Hadley’s hands and crossed her legs into lotus position, eyes closed, with her fists pressed against each other over her belly. None of her physical force magic would work if her chakras were so badly misaligned. She felt like a ragdoll who’d had all her stuffing pulled out and then shoved back in with no regard for where it was actually supposed to go. “Well,” Elbridge said coldly, and stood. “You’re welcome. Do try to be quick about this - our diversion’s scheduled to happen any minute now.” She nodded, lips pressed together in concentration. A thin red trickle ran from the corner of her mouth, over an older, brown stain. “You’ve, er…” Elbridge mumbled, trying not to stare. “You’ve got red on you.” Laura grit her teeth. “You know, we went to all the trouble to incapacitate the guards. You could at least say...er…” Elbridge finally put two and two together. “...oh. I suppose…not, then.” The final chakra opened and Laura felt her life-force flowing back to the places it belonged. She sighed with relief and reached a hand for Hadley to help her up. When he did, she pulled him into a tight hug. It said everything her ruined mouth couldn’t. It was also incredibly-awkward. Both Elbridge Hardley and Laura Bellworth were absolutely-terrible at anything to do with feelings. If someone were to observe them, here and now, one might think they’d stumbled upon two mannequins stiffly-propped against one another. For them, this was progress. “What.” Laura’s eyes snapped to Hugues when he spoke, and she let out a grunt of surprise. Turner? she mouthed, unconsciously reaching for the dog tags around her neck. It took a lot to shock Laura Bellworth but seeing one of her Wardens back from the dead was enough. She stepped forwards and caught him by the chin, and the fact that he was solid and not a ghost was almost more surprising than seeing him at all. She whipped her head back towards Hadley. Explain, she mouthed, NOW. “Ectoplasm skinsuit,” Hugues explained before Elbridge had a chance. “I call it the Parent-Teacher Conference potion.” She turned back to him, tilted his head left and right. Family resemblance only went so far. There was one way to tell for sure, though. With a grave expression she looked directly into his eyes. Nothing happened. Turner and Bellworth had already soulgazed, a long time ago, in another world. (aggghhhh Compel on Self-Made Clone. This is far more interesting to take, so let’s do it!) Hugues blinked, and quickly looked away. “Huh, knew the ecto redid my face, didn’t know it stopped a Soulgaze.” She slapped him with her other hand. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to call bullshit. Hugues just looked away in shame. “I’ll...wait outside. With the spell gone, we might have brought attention.” Once Hugues had gone, it was left to Elbridge to pick up the pieces. “You’d never believe that I didn’t know,” he sighed, “so I won’t bother pretending. I let it be because he swore on his power to come clean on his own, and I felt that he deserved at least that much.” Laura hadn’t stopped him from walking out, which said a lot, but more than that she just looked lost. Which was something not even Hadley had ever seen before. It didn’t last long. She took note of the unconscious mercenaries in the corner of the room and knelt down to strip the second one. None of them were much good with veils, if Turner was really Turner. She shook her head and set the thought aside. There would be time to argue later, once they weren’t in the middle of an enemy encampment, and she had a goddamn pencil. “Here.” Elbridge pulled the late corporal’s combat knife from its boot-sheath. Seven and a half inches of serrated steel in a carbon-fibre handle - excellent for killing discreetly, if rather-unsuited to the tasks for which Elbridge would normally use a knife (don’t ask). “This’ll do until you recover your own weapon.” She hefted it and shoved it into her new belt with a satisfied grunt, then nodded towards the door.
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Dec 20, 2016 08:59
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Numb Scene: Thunderdome Cole’s body went limp. All that existed was the burning pain in his chest, and the pressure of Roqueza’s hands around his throat. I can’t lose… I can’t… I… The last few bubbles escaped between his lips. You need only ask Call our name, child And our blessing is yours No. Then die. They spoke as one, pronouncing judgement in three voices. The first eager, the second sorrowful, but the third, the eldest, with respect. Hecate understood a wolf who would not submit, even in the face of death. He thought of Ada’s kisses, of Hugues’ smile and Elbridge’s scowl. Rupert’s stories, Jenny’s laugh, JR’s confidence, Mitsuo’s smirk... and he thought of Marcine, and hoped she’d be alright. No apologies this time. No goodbyes. Die with dignity, the Duke had said. Alright then. You first. He focused on the leathery hands around his neck, concentrated every last shred of his will into the last breath he would ever take, and smiled as he spoke his final word. “Freeze.” --- Marcine listened. She’d sent Rick what power she could, and there was only one other being who could have poked in through their connection. If an angel had decided to intervene, then there should have been no doubt. She should have felt triumph. He should be winning. Instead, there was rising desperation. Fear. An impression of water, of drowning, of failing strength--then, oddly, calm. And a certain grim satisfaction. Too late, she realized what was happening. Much too late, she lunged for him with an incoherent mental scream. Her cry dispersed into nothing. The link was gone. Every sense of him was just…gone. She was abruptly back in her body, shaking. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak, choking on tears. She didn’t need to. The frigid wind that blasted through the camp a moment later said everything. --- The tiny paring knife lay snapped in half, its condition met at last. The pocket dimension collapsed, sending a gust of wind that would have been more at home in Arctis Tor ripping through the crowd of spectators. It forced vampire and soldier alike back a few paces. Not Breenfjell. The troll took a step forward and put one misshapen paw on the giant block of ice, clear as polished crystal, that would be the final tomb of two unrelenting warriors. Roqueza’s hands would forever be around Rick’s throat, but it was the Warden who smiled, and the vampire whose face was twisted in shock and fear. A glint of metal in the frozen wave at the bottom of the block caught his eye. The Warden’s sword, dropped by the Duke in his frenzy, had escaped the fate of its master. He took hold of the silver pommel and pulled it free. It broke the spell on the gathered crowd, and at once, three vampires rushed forward together. One of them was carrying a sledgehammer, and brought it down on the ice - but it was the metallic hammerhead that cracked, and not the icy tomb. Murmurs began to spread amongst the mercenaries, tinged with fear, worry and confusion. Breenfjell shook his mangy head. He had seen such ice before. No chisel would chip it away, no hammer crack it, no fire melt it. It was too pure for such base tools. He walked away, forgotten, as the vampires swarmed the block with everything they could pull out of their tents. It didn’t matter. The two inside were already dead. ((The battle is over. The Duke has fallen. Richter Cole is dead. To secure himself time for his final act, he marks an Extreme Collateral Consequence. Once again, New Orleans has become The City Without a Warden.))
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Dec 20, 2016 09:08
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Eye in the Sky Scene: Above the Camp Nicholas’ drone-golem was nearly invisible in the dark, with only a soft mosquito-like buzzing to mark its passage. It had swung north towards the main road after giving its view of Cole’s last stand, looking for other dangerous things to report on. Its instructions were very clear. Written in cork, tucked deep within its tiny golem brain, were two orders: Protect the Creator, and Only Observe. More intricate golems might have as many as a dozen orders at once, (Nicky was a firm believer in Asimov’s laws,) but this one was a simple thing, and he didn’t want it getting close enough to be caught by the vampires. The orders would make it seek out the most dangerous things it could recognize, in order to warn him about them, and thus protect him. The useful thing about golems was that they didn’t require direct piloting. Their intelligence levels varied greatly, but he’d put enough effort into this spell to get something with a small dog’s brain. All he wanted it to do was chase squirrels. Except those squirrels were vampires with guns. Bigger squirrels were more exciting of course, tinting the edge of his camera display a dull red. The tint spread across the lens as it approached the ritual site, making it glow as if infrared. The edge of the dome was near, the shield that protected New Orleans and had sucked his friends into… what, he still wasn’t quite sure, but it was full of Outsiders. Nicky clutched at his satchel protectively. The book was still inside it, wrapped in layers of tape and even heavier layers of warding. He had to be here, for Minsk. It was the only thing giving him enough spine to stay upright. A circle of metallic pillars, capped on top, had been pounded into the earth. At their center, a vampire was sitting in a circle, cross-legged, with a greatsword across his lap. Nicky recognized it immediately. No one forgot seeing Captain Bellworth’s sword unsheathed. Five soldiers stood on guard, though they were far enough apart that it looked like there should have been more. They’d probably been called away in the fuss with Warden Cole. Poor guy. He couldn’t even imagine… “I’ve found the ritual site,” he reported, sharing what he’d seen with Angie, Rupert, and Marcine. The drone continued circling the area, flying over some houses just outside the barrier, but it didn’t leave. It’d clearly decided the best way to protect him was to keep an eye on things there. Marcine considered his summary. Elbridge and Bellworth would meet them near there, so at least she’d be in the same place as her sword if they could get it. “Five seems suspiciously manageable,” she eventually said. “Five nearly killed us all at the cabin,” Angie reminded her. “When they ambushed us,” she growled. “We won. Any idea what the pillars are about?” ((Rupert, Lore: +/-/ +3 = +3)) “Sounds like a tracking spell,” replied Rupert, scratching his chin, “Clever one, too. Rather than tracking a direct link, it’s aiming at finding anything similar enough to the focus. Useless if you’re trying to find something specific, but if your focus is a symbol of the Council’s power… well, it’s not good.” “So they’re figuring out where Council members are?” Marcine frowned. “Weird time to do it.” “They’re not looking for the other Wardens, they're looking for us,” explained Rupert. Lifting his warden pin, he focused on Elbridge and whispered into the pin, “Elbridge. The Sorcerer is using Bellworth’s sword in a tracking spell to try and find us.” He quickly relayed what Nicky had seen through the drone. “Balls,” Elbridge whispered back. “D’you know how they’re directing it at us, specifically?” “Looks like it’ll be broad enough to catch anything related to her sword. You’re the expert, but my guess is that it'll catch our pins and probably Hugues’ sword, too,” theorised Rupert. “You mean the pins we’re speaking through at this very instant.” “Yeah. So you might want to deal with him before he finishes the spell.” Glancing around, Rupert added, “Do you need backup?” “Yes,” Elbridge said without hesitation. “We’ll need to finish him and his assistants before he can raise the alarm.” “We’ll meet you there,” replied Rupert. Dropping the pin, he looked at the others in the clearing and cleared his throat, “Plan’s changed. Elbridge needs backup to deal with this Sorcerer. We need to move now instead of waiting ten more minutes for the bomb.” After a pause, he added, in a not entirely convincing attempt to be reassuring, “We can still make it, we just need to stop the tracking spell.” “Ten?” Marcine’s skin crawled. With the shock they’d just gone through, she’d lost track of time and nearly forgotten Masterson. Maybe she shouldn’t care at this point. Only the mission mattered. But she had to know she could protect someone. She picked up the walkie and hoped it was set to the mercs’ frequency already. Just had to get him out of the depot. “Masterson, it’s Mowser. Think I lost my wallet by the drat toybox. Can you check? Over.” “Your wallet? drat! I shouldn’t go to the toybox for petty reasons, but I’ll cover you just this once. But remember, you owe me one! Masterson, over and out.” “Roger that. Over.” Marcine returned the walkie to her belt. “Take him longer than ten minutes to figure out it’s not there.” She shuddered, thinking of the feathers she couldn’t bear to hold again. Her voice dropped to barely more than a whisper. “If I get nothing else right tonight, at least let him get back to his kids…” “What was that about?” Angie asked, narrowing her eyes. “Got him away from the bomb. Humans don’t need to die if they’re not in the way. I hosed up twice already...” First Hugues, now Rick. Not again, she’d told him, before she gave him the feather, and here they were. Her forehead and her eyes burned and she started walking before she had the chance to think any more. “Not loving again.”
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Jan 6, 2017 03:09
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Hey! It’s an OOC post! --I reserve the right to edit in more things. Now that Teep’s reign of terror is over, I’m going to go over some of the rules we’re more aware of and a few additions we’ll be making going forwards. 1: Invoking for Effect! It’s pretty good! 2: Boosts only last one round. 3: You may use all tags on a boost in one action. 4: If you do no damage because of armor, you take a boost. You cannot choose to take stress instead of granting a boost. 5: Paying a FP lets you make an attack affect an area. 6: You can always move one zone for free on your turn! 7: I am lifting the previous restrictions on combat stunts. We're now maintaining a separate G-doc for Experiences, make sure to update it as you use them. We are also stealing the DFAE Ritual rules. These are suspiciously similar to the Atomic Robo Invention rules, but adapted just for us! Everyone should have a copy of the pdf at this point, page 169 for full rules. WHAT IS A RITUAL SPELL? In general, the desired outcomes tend to coalesce around a few common themes: *Temporarily granting a supernatural boon *Defining the terms of a supernatural pact or bargain *Enchanting an item with a particular ability to solve a specific problem *Imbuing a location with a supernatural property *Inconveniencing or harming others from a distance *Gaining access to information otherwise impossible to learn *Summoning beings from the Nevernever In general, if the GM judges that the desired effect you describe is best represented as one or more stunts or conditions, that action is a ritual spell. Preparing and performing ritual spells requires time and energy and must never be undertaken lightly. Rituals must reflect the beliefs of their caster. A gentle person cannot cast a hateful ritual, or vice versa, without the fiction justifying it. Your aspects will guide what kinds of rituals you’re usually able to cast. See PG. 169 in the DFAE pdf for the full crunch, which is too long to put here. mistaya fucked around with this message at 04:13 on Jan 20, 2017 |
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Jan 20, 2017 04:06
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The Last of Us Scene: duSang Family Estate Roy opened the door to once again find Ada standing at the doorstep, wearing a dusty-rose sleeveless dress and skirt, with buttons going just a little past her chest. With the way she had one hand on her hips and her legs spread open, it was clear this visit wasn’t just for courtesy like the one before it. “Roy, is Madame duSang here? I need to talk to her.” --- Sylvia was in the ballroom, with her back to the entrance. She wore a white dress that went to the floor and her hair pinned up. She was arranging the roses cut the day before into an assortment of vases. Ada shut the door behind her, making sure it was loud enough to get the matriarch’s attention. “Why did you trick me like that? You could’ve just told me I should try to call the Old Man without drugging me,” she asked, leaning back against the door, arms crossed. Her whole posture was tense, from the way her heels dug into the ground to how her nails pressed against the skin of her arms. “I could have,” Sylvia said coolly, checking a bloom for brown spots. “I could have called him for you, too. But then this would be my business, which it isn’t, and you’d be in my debt, which doesn’t do any good for either of us.” Ada’s gaze hardened.“So what, you tricked me so I’d have some kind of score to settle with you? Why would you even need that kind of fig leaf? I don’t have anybody else’s backing. No one cares who I owe or don’t owe debts to.” Inside her, the same anger she’d felt back at the swamp stirred. Sylvia turned around and regarded Ada with the same detachment she gave her roses. “You had to do it on your own. Pontchartrain had to know you were the one to call him or he’d never give you a second glance. Certainly not the royal tour. I would only have hurt you by staying.” “But I didn’t want you to stay! I just...” The only way Ada could bite back on her anger was by giving it a physical outlet. Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip so hard, the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. Slowly, she settled down, just a bit. “You didn’t have to stay. All you had to was be honest with me. If you’d just told me I had to do it on my own and couldn’t help, I would’ve gotten off the carriage myself and not come back until I’d reached him.” She drew a deep, deep breath. “Why did you manipulate me like that? I’m not your enemy, grandmother.” There was something in Ada’s voice that most people would never hear: hurt. What Sylvia had done had cut deep. “A mother bird is not the enemy when she nudges her chicks from the nest,” Sylvia said. “She expects them to fly.” And if they can’t, to die. But as she heard Sylvia’s words, a great deal of the anger Ada was holding onto went out like a snuffed candle. She didn’t need an apology from her great-grandmother, and there wasn’t a force in the world that could coax one out of her anyway. All she wanted was to hear the reasons why she’d done something like that. She couldn’t agree with her means, but Ada knew she’d been chasing a benign end. Seeing the argument ahead of her, all she could do was feel tired. “There’s something else I need to learn,” she said, setting aside the matter for now. They could butt heads about it again later. “Back home, the House isn’t half as important as it is now. I want to change that. What do I need to learn to become someone the other leaders of the underground can respect?” Sylvia picked up her shears and trimmed a stem. “You’ve seen what your family name means here. Find out what happened, why your mother abandoned her home. The beings that live here have long memories. Remind them what a duSang is. If you can find out.” Ada nodded in response to her great-grandmother’s words. It made sense. At some point, the power of the duSangs had been shattered, like a chain that had lost some links. If she could find the point where the chain had been broken, then she could take note of what had ruined it and make it whole again. “I’ll have to ask my mother.” That much was a given, but Ada didn’t want to work with just one lead. She couldn’t know how Claudia duSang would react to being asked about the family’s history. Just in case her mother wasn’t keen on sharing the details with her, she needed a backup plan. “Where do we keep our memories? I bet the heads of the house kept records of how they handled things. Maybe I should take a look at those.” “In the master suite, of course,” Sylvia said. “The heir traditionally carries the key… You don’t have it?” “No. I don’t.” That was strange...no matter how much she racked her brains, Ada couldn’t remember ever receiving a key. But she was the family’s inheritor, so why had it not happened? From the sounds of it, she probably should’ve received it when they were children...children… Ada’s eyes widened. “Of course. I wasn’t the only child. I’ve got a twin sister who’s a little older than me. She should’ve gotten the key before I did, right?” Sylvia paused, and tucked another rose into the vase she was working on. “The spirit on the altar? Was that your sister?” She nodded. “The girl was very young. I don’t know if your mother would have given it to her, or truthfully, if she even had it to give. The chapters between the two of us are missing.” “Everything comes down to those missing years. It’s like I heard someone say once. ‘Who are you, that do not know your history?’. If I want to move forward, I’ve got to look back first.” Piece by piece, everything had come to click into place. “Grandmother, you said I shouldn’t owe you any debts, but there’s something I want to ask you. Is there anything you’d like me to do when I go home?” Sylvia looked at the grand ballroom, empty now except for her table and flowers. But it was a living place still, and sound echoed through the halls and the rooms. “This house should never be empty,” she said at last. “Find your family, Ada duSang. Don’t be the last of us.”
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Jan 20, 2017 07:12
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Longing Scene: Wrong Side of Town It was sundown by the time Ada reached the slums. They were smaller here than they were back home - still not a place to linger on, but she could feel it in the air all around her: there was a hint of resignation, but not the despair that had enveloped the least fortunate parts of her New Orleans. The deeper she went though, the less true that became. By the time she stopped for a moment to catch her breath, several buildings all around her were boarded up, and half the streetlights were down. The streets were completely silent, so quiet that it took Ada some time to notice the absence of activity. “That’s odd...” she murmured. “Where’s everybody?” Back home, the streets of the slums were full of late-night commuters rushing home, roving gang members and lost souls. The total and complete absence of people wasn’t natural. Something was off. A single gas lamp suddenly lit up at the far end of the street. “Ada?” a voice called out. Distant, faded, but she would know his voice anywhere. Her heart skipped a beat. “Rick?” How had he gotten here? Had they all found a way to her? “Rick, is that you?” she asked, peering into the dark, trying to spot him. “I’ve been looking for you… For so long… I miss you...” ((Something out there rolls Deceive… ++-/ +7 = 8. Ada defends with Empathy: ++-- +5 = 5. SWS, two invokes on “That’s My Rick”)) She didn’t know whether to smile or lower her eyes in shame. What could she tell him? She wasn’t ready to share her decision with him. Not yet. But they had to much to share… “We need to talk,” she said, and set off towards him. She didn’t even know where to start, but they’d get there. Together. “The light… Do you see the light...? Can you come to me...?” “I see it, but I don’t see you. Where are you?” She was there in moments, but there was still no sign of Rick. Was he in hiding somehow? It wasn’t like him to conceal himself like this, unless he was being hunted or in danger. But if so, why had he drawn her here…? There. In the distance, she could make a shape by an alley. She didn’t waste another moment thinking about it before dashing off towards him as quickly as she could. If he needed her, she’d be there. ((Ada rolls Notice to see where the ‘something’ is hiding. ++/+ +4 = 7! Vs. //-- = 3. Success with Style. Ada still thinks that’s her Rick, but she knows where ‘he’ is hiding now. She takes the following boost: “I’m there for you”.)) As soon as Ada started running in his direction, the shadowed figure stiffened. “Ada… Hurry... We need to hurry… come with me now…” He turned and walked away from her, but his pace didn’t seem fast enough to match his speed. When she reached the alley she pushed off the wall to keep her momentum, and that upset a shelf of repair shingles, balanced precariously on the corner of the rooftop above her. They fell directly down on top of her, but she leapt forward, slammed against against the wall feet first, rebounded off it and kept on running, her skirt whooshing all around her. “Rick, hang tight!” She yelled as she picked up the pace. “I’m coming!” ((Ada springs a trap! -/-- +5 = 2 tries to stop her, but a result of /++/ +5 = +7 means she’s undaunted. One more boost, ‘Desire Gives You Wings’, is granted. Ada then rolls Athletics to give chase. /--/ +5 = +3 vs /+/+ +4 = +6. Not good enough, but invoking “I’m There For You” and “Desire Gives You Wings” pushes Ada over the top!)) When it was clear he couldn’t outrun her, the shadow stopped and turned, and it was him, really him, silhouetted in the lamplight. He smiled just like she remembered, and reached a hand out to her. “Ada…” She ran, right into his arms, and pulled him into a bonecrushing hug. “Rick! I missed you. I missed you so much,” she said, clutching him tight. It had been lonely here in the past, all alone with no friends to share her plight with. Even if it meant facing a challenge she wasn’t ready for just yet, having him around was such a relief… “We can’t stay here…” he said. “There’s a ship, on the docks. Leaving soon… Come with me, Ada… Come home…” ((“Rick” rolls Deceive: /+/+ +7 = 9. Ada defends with Empathy: ++-- +5 = 5. Aspect “Come Home, Ada.” created with 2 invokes.)) He already had a portal ready! That was just perfect. But there was something she needed to do first. “Yeah...but Rick, I can’t. Not yet. I need to stay around ‘til midnight. I need to talk with Ruby.” She pulled back a little to look at him and smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, it won’t take long. Promise you I’ll be there once it’s over. I won’t let her hurt herself.” Rick tilted his head as if he didn’t understand. “We can’t wait, Ada… If we don’t go now… There won’t be another ship… You have to come with me now...” “But Rick, she needs me. She’s trying to erase herself. I can’t just give up on her like that. C’mon, come with me. We’ll find Ruby and bring her home with us.” “I’m sorry… I know it’s hard…” He hugged her tighter. “Do you want to stay here, forever? They’re waiting for us…” Everything froze for a moment. She couldn’t have heard right. Rick had never left anyone behind - even when they’d walked to literal Hell and back, he’d trusted her enough to do what was right without worrying for her failure. If there was one thing he’d never do, it was abandon a friend in need, not after Rachel. Ada’s eyes narrowed, and her voice became as cold as ice. “You’re not him.” “Ada?” He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. There was no soulgaze, but they’d taken each other’s measure a long time ago. He cupped her cheek, gently, and his hand was too cold, too clammy. “I love you.” She didn’t need the physical tell to realize it couldn’t be him. This was just too wrong, too much unlike him. No matter how much it hurt to give up on the promise of his love, she couldn’t turn her back on what she knew of Rick, her Rick. Wrapping her hands around his neck, she pulled him close and stared him, eye to eye. “Who the hell are you?” ((That comment about not being able to wait sets off red flags. Ada rolls Empathy to overcome vs Deceive. /+-/ +5 = 5 vs. -/-+ = 4. ‘Course, it’s not gonna be that easy. The Something free-invokes Come Home, to which Ada counters by FPing I Won’t Look Away, then raises again with the second invoke, which pushes Ada to raise with Life Is A Fairy-Tale to resist abandoning Ruby, which leads to the first invoke of ‘That’s My Rick’, which is countered by Ada’s refreshed free invoke of The Maid of New Orleans, and the monster, because it’s clearly a monster by now, raises with the last remaining free invoke to push itself to +12. Ada denies this by spending a third, and final, FP on The Maid of New Orleans. Final score: 13 vs. 12, no free invokes remain.)) “Who do you want me to be?” Rick asked, leaning forwards, into her grab. His arms tightened uncomfortably around her waist. Something inside her snapped. Her heart had leapt when she’d heard his voice, hoping they’d finally be together again, that she wouldn’t have to face the Old Man of the Lake and the Rubeansidhe alone. Now, that hope had been taken from her. The hands on his throat tightened, pressing down harder than was comfortable, while her eyes hardened. She smiled for a moment, pressed just a little closer to him, and then shrieked, louder than a banshee’s wail. “I WANT YOU TO BE loving DEAD!” That old familiar feeling creeped out of the hole it’d been hiding in since the summoning and gave her strength and purpose. There was only one name for it. RAGE. He obliged her request. Rick’s face decayed in front of her, flesh rotting and falling away, mold and insects nesting in his empty eye-sockets, the rictus grin on his face mocking her. Ada’s vision clouded with red mist, and an enormous surge of power swelled within her. This son of a bitch was going to pay for this, she’d make drat sure of it! “Dimitri!” A different, semi-familiar voice yelled, and Ada felt callused hands grab her arms. She barely noticed that it was Reese. “Mary-Jane!?” He had to tap into his vampire strength to force her fingers apart. “What the blazes are you doing down here?” The shapeshifter slipped her grasp and fell to the ground, scurrying backwards several feet and clutching at his bruised throat. He was still wearing Rick’s face. “That’s not her name!” he choked out. Ada didn’t answer him with words. Instead, she kicked and struggled, trying to break free. “I’m gonna kill you for this, motherfucker! YOU BETTER RUN BEFORE I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!” Any other time and she would’ve gladly answered Reese’s questions, but she was too mad at his minion to care right now. “Dimitri!” Reese ordered. “Lose the face, or I let her go!” Rick hissed at him… and then changed. The new face was female, young, with flame-red curls and a button nose. “Better?” she asked, smirking. Reese stiffened, he recognized this new form. “She’s right, you’d better run.” The shifter scowled at him, but didn’t need to be told a third time. He ran. Even so, it was enough to mollify Ada, at least a little bit, once the thing had scurried away. Deep breaths. Deep breaths… “What rock did you drag that thing out of?” She asked, curtly, still struggling to break free but not with the violence from before. Reese didn’t let go of her until Dimitri was safely away. “He’s a siren. Washed up on shore a while back. This is where he hunts.” “Like the slums didn’t have enough trouble already.” Ada grit her teeth. It had always been like this. Much as it hurt to admit it, nobody missed the less fortunate. It was like they were simply not people when it really counted. Her hands were still balled up into fists, but she wasn’t so angry anymore. “I’m leaving soon. Wanted to see how things were down here, before I left. I could ask you the same question, too. This your hunting ground as well?” “The slums are for scavengers,” he said, sounding insulted. “No.” “Then how’d you end up here?” “I went for a walk. Was that him?” He raised an eyebrow. “Your beau?” She nodded. She didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to imagine his face again...it was too much to go through again so soon after. “Well he showed me yours, and he showed you mine. Fair’s fair, I guess.” He offered her his arm. “I need a drink. Join me?” “Yeah.” The word came out like a sigh of relief. She needed one after that. That, and a friendly face she could spend some time with. When he offered her his arm, she took it gladly. He smiled at her. “It’s a dive, but they have beer and the music’s… well, it’s poo poo, but they try.” Ada returned the smile wholeheartedly. After that brush with the Siren, it was refreshing to experience something as normal as visiting a bar with a friend. “If it’s got booze and some people to look at, it’s good enough for me. Lead the way.”
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Jan 20, 2017 07:14
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Into The Heart Scene: Crossing Town The Gilded Lily wasn’t anywhere near the dive Reese had taken Ada to. For any faults Ginger might have had, she had too much taste to set it down in such a seedy place. It was gonna be a long walk back to say goodbye. But right now, as always, Ada didn’t have to walk alone. Alisa appeared as she always had since the maze, a young child, taking two steps to every one of Ada’s. But this time only Ada was covered in blood. Alisa’s dress was spotless. “Why?” she asked, in the voice of someone who’d been disappointed so many times, she’d simply come to expect it. Ada just turned and stared at her for a moment, then focused her attention on putting together the buttons Reese had undone and slipping her straps back on. When she was finished, she started walking again, eyes set forward, head held up high. A heavy iron chain scraped along the ground between them. Alisa followed in silence, letting it rattle from the slave collar welded around her throat. If words didn’t reach her sister, maybe this would. They moved fast. It wasn’t long before they’d left the Iberville projects behind and entered the better (or at least livelier) parts of the French Quarter. “You wanna talk with me, Alisa, then talk,” Ada said, not looking back. “But drop the wounded kitten act. It’s high time we both stopped acting like children.” Alisa shrugged. “I asked you a question. It’s your turn.” “I let things go the way they went because I didn’t have an answer for him. Reese asked me why I couldn’t stay here, in the old N’awlins.” Ada took a deep breath, and her body shook from it. Now that the rush was starting to wind down, she felt tired. She’d put a lot on the line back at the bar with him, and it’d take some time to get it back. Little lines of blood stained her dress, like a garden’s best roses, and her blood seeped into the tunnels left in her arm by her scars, going down to her wrist in spirals and up again. Not a single drop fell off her. “I thought about it and didn’t find anything. It wasn’t until I was totally ready to give in that I realized in this place, I couldn’t be who I wanted to be.” Though she was winded and wounded, her voice didn’t waver. There was something stronger than her body’s desires at the wheel. “I could’ve told you that,” Alisa said. “If you’d ever asked me.” The look on Ada’s eyes, previously serious, turned into a glare. She inhaled, deeply and quickly. Before she was done breathing, she let it all out. “Go gently caress yourself. You’re close to me, you live with me, but Alisa, you’re not me. You don’t think the way I do, and if you did, you’d never have tried to act like a beaten puppy and guilt-tripped me with that stupid ‘why’.” Leaning forward, she jutted out a finger towards her. “You can’t take over other people’s future and pick it for them. I tried doing that with Rick, and I didn’t realize just how much I was hurting him until I stepped away and looked back. You want to help me make some calls or not, that’s your decision, but I’m the only one who decides what I’m doing with my life.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so angry, not like this. Usually, it was like some kind of visceral fury, something that demanded an immediate outlet. This was colder, and it had been building up for a long, long time. “IT’S NOT JUST YOUR LIFE, YOU STUPID BITCH!” Alisa shrieked. The innocent child was gone, and Ada found herself staring eye to eye with a young woman who looked just like her, except in all the ways that mattered. “I’ve watched you for thirteen years, every moment of every day. Every bad decision, every risk, every time you hurt someone, I was THERE!” She grabbed Ada’s wrist, turning it over and showing the wounds. Her touch stung like frostbite. “You think Richter doesn’t know what loving vampire bites look like, Ada?” Ada shook her hand away, and for the first time, droplets of blood splashed against the pavement. “You think I give a drat?” she growled. “I’m coming back home to talk to him. If he can’t deal with what I’m going to tell him, then I was right to leave him in the first place.” Raising her hands up, she rubbed the places Alisa had chilled her, trying to bring some circulation back. “And besides, you don’t care about him,” she said, staring at her sister over her clenched fists, her stare as cold as Alisa’s was seething. “The only thing that matters to you is I’m not leading my life the way you like. Everything else can hang.” “I just want a voice! I thought things would be different, better, after you knew I was there. After you saw that I’d been with you all this time, protecting you, helping you! But you don’t care about me at all.” Her shoulders sagged and tears formed in her eyes. “You exposed me in the church, for everyone to see, and that- that- MONSTER attacked me! I waited and waited for you to come, to call me, to see if I was alright… but you never did. You never did.” Ada didn’t say anything for a very long time. Not because she couldn’t think of answers, but because she wanted to make sure they had weight. It hurt to face this, but her words back at the bar had been a promise. It was time to stop running away from the pain. “Life’s been moving fast. I’ve been fighting, running, thinking. I’ve been scared. So worried ‘bout what I should be doing, I couldn’t even find the time to care about how you were holding up. Alisa, I haven’t done right by you. And what happened...I can’t fix it.” She fell silent once again. The coldness in her stomach had disappeared, replaced by a different kind of icy feeling. Regret. But there was something warmer there as well. She was hurting, but she was still determined. “What do you want, Alisa? Let’s make things different. Right here, right now.” “I want my own life,” Alisa said, matching her determination with a fire of her own. “Because right now, yours is the only one I’ve got.” She wrapped the chain around her spectral arm and pulled, and Ada felt her heart skip a beat. The chain was more than what it appeared. Her pulse flowed through it like… like an umbilical cord. “We were never any good at sharing.” Tentatively, Ada placed her own hand on it. It should’ve been cold to the touch, but instead the chain was warm. For a few moments, they just stood there, staring at each other. There were words struggling to find a way out of her mouth, but every time she tried to speak her throat went dry, and her heart picked up speed. “I haven’t been a good sister.” God, she was so scared. Why so soon after Reese? Why now? “And I can’t give you back your own life, unless I give mine up.” Her hands were shaking. Held between them, the chain was so, so warm. “But maybe I can learn to share, now that I’ve grown up.” She tugged on the chain, bringing her closer, careful not to push too hard. Her voice was quiet and little, but she never stopped looking into Alisa’s eyes. “Sis, I’m scared.” “You’re weak.” Alisa said, bile on her tongue. “You gave that vampire everything. Right now I could take what’s left of you and push you so far into a hole you’d never crawl out. Let you be the ghost for thirteen years, alone and silenced.” It wasn’t an idle threat. The chain quivered between them like a plucked guitar string... ...But Alisa’s hands were the ones that finally slackened. “No,” she whispered, “I’m not a monster. Not yet.” A little grin lit up Ada’s face, accompanied by a glint of recognition in her eyes. She knew the tone behind those words. This was everything Alisa’d ever wanted, a chance to leave all the pain behind. But she wasn’t the only one who’d been growing wiser. Her older sister had also found her way. “Never. I’m the one who’s supposed to be the marvelous monster, Lizzy. You’re the cute one.” They were so close together now, just inches from each other. “I’ve left you out in the cold for years.” It felt like it was the hardest thing she’d ever done. But all this time, she’d been taking from her. Wasn’t it time to start giving back? “Come inside.”
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Jan 20, 2017 07:16
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Uncut Diamond Scene: The Gilded Lily Ginger was in her office, nursing a finger of whiskey. The cigarette in her fingers was burned down to a stub and she had the other pressed to her temple, rubbing small circles. Her eye flicked to the door when Ada opened it. “Hard night?” she asked. She glanced down to look at herself. The wounds were still bleeding, but only a little bit. The colour had fled her face, but she wasn’t feeling as tired as she was before now. The grooves in her arm were still covered in scarlet, however. ((Spending one FP to downgrade Ada’s Severe Consequence to Moderate. “Exsanguinated” becomes “Pale Bloody Rose”.)) “Nah.” A little grin cracked her face. “Hot date.” Ginger’s expression didn’t change. “If you get any of that on my carpet, you’ll be licking the stain out yourself.” Ada shook her head. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t leak unless I get distracted.” Pulling back a chair, she sat down - or rather, crashed down on it. Mending wounds or not, going on such a long walk after feeding a vampire still used a lot of fuel. “You? Doesn’t look like you’re having a good day.” The older woman glanced down at the paperwork in front of her and finished a sum, then took a neat stack of money and tucked it into an envelope. “Just paying the bills,” she said. “They seem to get higher every time.” There were two more envelopes waiting for their share, also unmarked. “Gonna write everyone's names down later?” she asked, pulling herself up against the back of the chair, then leaning forward to get a better look at the envelopes. “...There’s no way Irving and Ruby are getting paid that much,” she murmured, frowning. “Who’re these for?” “The cost of doing business,” Ginger said, watching Ada carefully. “One for the brewery, one for city hall, and one for your ‘hot date’.” “And you can’t say no, right? Not exactly a lot of options besides paying if you want to keep the Lily running.” “Everyone takes a cut, and the world keeps turning.” She curled her lip. “What do you want, girl? Can’t you see I’m busy?” “I wanted to say goodbye. I’ll be gone by the morning. And...” Pausing for a moment, Ada looked down, thinking carefully about her words. “I wanted to apologize for causing so much trouble. It’s all been a huge mess, ever since I got here, but you stuck by me anyway. I owe you, Ginger. A lot.” She looked up, and stared into her eyes. “Ain’t a lot of people who’ll just take care of someone like you did when you found me.” A little smile lit up her face. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome,” Ginger said dismissively. Her look was cold before it dropped back to the paper on her desk. “Now get out.” It stung to hear her speak so coldly like that. Part of Ada wanted to get angry and shoot back, but she knew she wasn’t in the right here. Ginger had given her a place to stay at, a job, food and care. How could she repay her by vanishing, just like that? “I know I’m not doing right by you,” Ada said, quietly. “I wish I could stay.” And she meant it. It was different, but this city was just as much her New Orleans as the one she belonged to. If only she could come back to it once she left… Ada’s eyes drifted down to Ginger’s hands on the desk. “I’m sorry, Ginger. It’s not what it looks like, I promise.” Ginger snuffed her cigarette with more vigor than was strictly necessary. She didn’t look up. “I have no use for excuses or apologies, and I’m too busy for lost causes. If you’re going to leave, then leave.” That crossed the line. “Bullshit,” Ada said, gritting her teeth. “You’re not looking away from me because you don’t care. If I’d just left without saying anything you would’ve turned the town upside down asking everybody if they’d seen me around. You don’t like what I’m doing but I came here to talk to you about it. To see if there’s any way I can make it up. So don’t shoo me away like this. Tell me what the hell I can do!” Her knuckles had gone white from how tight her fists were clenched, and thin streams of scarlet ran between each of her left hand’s fingers. Before, the look on Ada’s eyes had been gentle, even hesitant. Now it was cold and hard. The look Ginger returned was colder, and harder. “This is a business. I need talent, and I need workers. I don’t need anything from someone who’s leaving tonight. We’re done.” She pulled a small silver case out of her jacket pocket and took a fresh cigarette from it. “We’re not square, but we’re done.” Ada felt it once more, that rush of power, asking for release, making it hard to even think. But it wasn’t the only thing she felt. She took several deep breaths, crossed her arms, dug her nails deep into her flesh until tiny little trickles of blood joined what she’d already shed. Slowly, the red fog lifted, letting her see what she couldn’t have seen earlier. “So that’s it?” She asked, disbelieving, panting as though she’d just finished running a race. “You’re gonna let me walk away from you? Just like that?” A dark smile played over Ginger’s lips. “Unless you have an address I can send the bill to. That’s the third outfit you’ve gone and ruined.” “Mail it to the duSang estate. Tell Sylvia duSang it’s her pupil’s cost of learning and I think she’ll pay you back twice.” Slowly, her breathing returned to normal. So this is what an uneven trade was like. She’d done it and never even thought about it. Why had she even tried to pay Ginger back? She deserved to hear she was leaving from her, but nothing else. There wasn’t anything she could do - and it only made her look all the more foolish to believe there could be. “Oh will she?” Ginger rested her chin on her hand. “I’ll be sure to send a note back with Leo when he drops off Yuric’s jacket. Which you also neglected to return.” “Ha...haha…” That was too much. It started as a fit of the giggles, but pretty soon Ada was out and out laughing. “Hahahahaha!” She’d been running around so much she’d failed to remember it! Her stomach ached by the time she was done. It was so silly! “S-sorry. Caught me off-guard. Too much jet-setting here and there,” she said, as she calmed down and nodded. “But she’ll pay you back. Promise. She’s as invested in me learning something as I am. Maybe more.” The air between them felt clearer now. Now Ada didn’t feel like she was leaving any unfinished business behind. But there was one question, still lingering in the back of her mind. “Ginger...do you think I can make the big time?” Ginger pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ada… You have talent, but your talent is just as raw as an uncut gemstone. Someone has to polish you, or you’ll never shine. I was kinda hoping I’d get to be that someone.” Ada smiled as she stood up. “Never say never.” The Gilded Lily was still around in her New Orleans. Ada’d never gone looking for its owner, but if Ginger still held the reins, then she’d find her, and take her up on that offer. “I’ve gotta get going now. Don’t let the bills bring you down, Ginger.” “I got a glass right here to bring me back up,” she said, tapping her whiskey. “And you… you try to keep more of your blood on the inside than the outside, okay?” “Less bleeding, more thinking.” Ada nodded from the door. “I’m on that.” The night was cool outside when Ada stepped out, but a warmth was coming from Ginger’s window. Maybe it was the oil lamp, still burning brightly. Or maybe it was the lady of the Lily, keeping her eye on her as she made tracks. --- And Ada catches up with a milestone of her own, takes the experience "I love you, Sis". It's all coming together...
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Jan 20, 2017 07:18
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Familiar Weight Scene: Ritual Site After helping Angie find her rifle, (which had ended up behind the one still-standing wall of the house that collapsed on her,) Nicholas Cantor was at a loss for what to do. The mercenaries were leaving, that was true, but there were too many vehicles to take down plate numbers (especially American ones, which made no logical sense…) and worse, his drone had switched away from them to focus on the knot of remaining vampires. Or at least, the command tent they were in. He went looking for Bellworth, not knowing what else to do, stepping over the dead men behind the tank while trying not to throw up. She was nearly at the barrier, still holding Hugues over one shoulder like a kid who’d stayed up too late and fallen asleep. “I think the vampires are mobilizing,” he said once he’d reached her. She was standing in the center of the ritual circle. The pillar was dark now, the vampire who’d cast it dead on the ground. But the ritual had completed… at least partially. There was a hole in the dome, wreathed in a circle of explosive fire. The entire effect was playing in super-slow motion as magic and munitions fought against the stasis field, and it wasn’t large enough for a person to fit through yet. It would be though, soon. Bellworth glared at it. Nicholas backed up a step and tripped over something on the ground. “Oh, C-Captain, your sword!” He tried to pick it up and failed utterly. It weighed more than it ought to, even as big as it was. Laura coughed a laugh and held her hand out. The blade hummed in response, and she gestured for Nicholas to try again. This time when he picked it up, it barely weighed anything. She slipped the baldric over one shoulder, unable to put it on properly while holding Hugues, and gave Cantor a pat on the head. He frowned. “Y-you’re welcome? We really can’t stay here. There’s at least two dozen vampires left…” Warden-Captain Laura Bellworth turned Nicky’s head towards the breach. They couldn’t leave it unguarded, not while it was open. Not if this were to mean anything. “Oh.” She gave him a single nod, and then put her hand on the pommel of her sword. “Gn…” she said. Go. “But…” Laura turned in the direction of her enemies, and waited. Nicky sniffled once, then turned and ran from her. --- Hugues twitched slightly, and a guttural zombie-like groan followed. He coughed for a moment in Bellworth’s arms, hacking up a gooey hunk of ectoplasm that was stuck on his vocal cords to deepen the voice. “C-Captain?” he mumbled out as he opened his eyes. “Mhmm.” Bellworth said. She raised an eyebrow at him. Another groan followed. It was hard to tell if Hugues that was because of the pain or the dread of having to talk to Bellworth after his secret was already exposed. For now he settled on trying to fidget and get out of her arms. “T-tank?” She let him down a bit roughly, though more from exhaustion than any other reason, then pointed at the burning wreckage. Well that was one thing less to worry about. The last thing he remembered was firing the machinegun with Angie...something must have knocked him on the head. And with his already existing concussion, Hugues didn’t want to think about how much permanent damage he’d have to deal with. If he lived that long. He settled himself on the ground, not wanting to deal with standing quite yet. Instead Hughes looked up at Bellworth, with equal parts guilt and acceptance. “A-are you...going to execute me?” Should I? Laura’s eyes asked. Hugues frowned and looked away. He didn’t know how to answer that question. After a moment of silence, he shook his head. “Bigger concerns,” he said, and pointed to the vortex. “But, if I step in there, this you won’t get a say.” The metal rang clear as she unsheathed her blade. Hugues stared her in the eyes. He didn’t move, or draw his sword. Whatever she decided, there was no escape for him. Laura tapped the blade with the tips of her fingers, and it reverberated in response. The pitch warped, twisted, until it became a voice. “I executed you ten years ago, when I signed that mission order,” the sword hummed, like a metallic Stephen Hawking. “You still came back for me.” He looked at the ground. “I wonder if any number of good deeds will make up for violating the laws of life and death.” “I doubt it,” the sword chimed. “But perhaps you’ll prove me wrong.” “It’s what I’ve been telling myself...and Rick believed it.” “He would.” Her face remained impassive, but her eyes were sad. “Stand with me. The shield must be defended until Captain Singh arrives.” “Right,” Hugues said, doing his best to stand on his own strength. “Captain,” he said, looking back at Bellworth. “It’s been an honor fighting along your side again.” She actually smiled. “I’m glad you’re not dead, Turner.” “You too.”
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Jan 23, 2017 20:16
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Professional Disagreements Scene: Hotel Nicky couldn’t sleep. He rolled over and over in his bed, trying to get comfortable, trying not to see buildings collapsing around him, not to hear bullets whizzing past his ears. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, but it didn’t matter. Eventually he stopped trying. --- It was mid-afternoon when he left the room, satchel over one arm. He hadn’t bothered to tidy up much, beyond dusting off some of the chalk and dirt from his clothes. His glasses were still filthy, and he hadn’t anything to clean them with besides the filthier tail of his shirt. Council wizards came and went through the open double-doors of the hotel lobby, but no one paid him any attention. That might have bothered him once, now he just wanted to be left alone. His stomach growled, and he was about to go looking for something to eat, when- “Cantor,” Seth said from behind him. “Sterling,” Nicholas said, hunching his shoulders. He turned and faced the man he least wanted to talk to right now. “It’s not a good time.” “Will there be a good time?” he asked flatly, arms folded. “No, I suppose not.” He adjusted the shoulder strap of his satchel. The awful book was still inside, wrapped in layers of warding. “We’re not going to find any new answers here, though.” “You seem to have managed anyway.” Seth led the way to the too-small breakfast room and grabbed a soup can. He didn’t say anything while he set around washing a pot, but the question hung in the air anyway. “Most of what I’ve found just amounts to more questions,” Nicholas admitted, flopping into a wobbly chair. “You were right, Sterling. About some of it. But that doesn’t get us any closer to rescuing anyone. The leyline was still the most powerful anchor we could have tapped, and it wasn’t enough. Maybe there isn’t anything that’s strong enough.” Seth took a breath and forced patience.“If an anchor snags on a rock, regardless of how powerful it is, the only way to get free is to cut it. Unless you have someone who can dive down and work it free.” The soup schlorped into the pot. “What we need is a concerted effort from both sides--which we had no way to do until now. A large-scale ritual, maybe, with something to focus power without an Outsider catching it.” He put his back to the stove and squinted at the table beside Cantor, thinking. “So what’s Outsider-proof?” “Nothing, that’s the problem.” Nicholas sighed. “Queen Mab gifted a few of us with ice-shards that are meant to be resistant to Outsider influence, which is something, but coordination is going to be extremely difficult. Our communication line has been tapped.” He took the book from his satchel and set it on the table. “They’ve been cracking our code. And my one attempt to communicate in plain speech nearly caused a breach. I don’t want to risk that again.” “Then find another means of communication. A strong sympathetic link. Something that can’t be corrupted…” He frowned. “I know Marcine has some invented language she sings in. If she can be contacted inside safely, we might be able to use that for further exchanges.” “That’s a good idea, but we’d need to tell them to fetch her, which requires risking the book at least once more. Wizard… ex-Wizard Singh suggested using a holy relic to cleanse it, which might be worth trying. Not sure where we’d come by one in time though.” Seth blinked. “Like angel feathers?” “Or saint’s bones or anything of that nature,” Nicky said obliviously. “Have you seen the feathers Marcine has?” He raised a questioning eyebrow. “The ones in her hat? You aren’t serious.” “An angel protected her from one of the Fallen when she was younger. My Marcine…” He trailed off, then cleared his throat. “She still has them. Maybe from the same angel. I can’t think of many sympathetic links stronger than that.” He paused, frowning. “You never mentioned this to her?” Nicholas shook his head. “It hadn’t come up, yet. Between the Winter Queen and the vampires… We haven’t even looked at the book in a few days.” “Perhaps we should.” His frown deepened as he studied the book, then glanced toward the lobby when the front door creaked with someone’s passing. “But not here, by the sounds of it. Who have you told of this?” “Hardley and Singh, at first,” Nicholas said. “Marcine walked in on some of it and she persuaded Elbridge to tell the rest of them. Though more in generalities than details.” Seth smiled faintly. “Sounds about right.” He sat down with his bowl and drummed his fingers on the table instead of eating. “Maybe possible to reach her directly. If not, using the feathers in a ritual… It would be like a shield, protecting the link between the books. The outer layer of a cord that covers the wires. Could support it with a hymn, perhaps.” “It’s worth trying,” Nicholas said, giving the book a sideways glance. “I’d like to check a few things at the barrier itself today as well. Especially the results of the ritual explosion that the vampires set off. If they’ve permanently damaged the dome…” “Who knows what could come out,” Seth muttered. “We would have to leave any links with someone guarding it. They would be the most conveniently located. Which might mean leaving the book as well, depending on whether we can manage a safer method. Which would require someone trustworthy, who sees the necessity despite the Seventh Law.” Nicholas narrowed his eyes. “I have as much a right to go as you, Sterling. I’ve lost people too.” Seth clapped a hand over his face. “Not what I meant. Who would you entrust it to?” “Who indeed,” he sighed. “The Wardens are more likely to destroy it, which we can’t have, and neither of us have any real friends on the Council. I assumed you meant me because I can’t think of anyone else.” “If we find an alternative, it might not be necessary. We’ll have to think on it.” He stared at his soup. “She’s always wondered what those feathers were really for. Maybe this is it...” “The timing was strange,” Nicholas said thoughtfully. “The others all came together, but she was much later. And there’s been no one else since.” He sighed irritably. “But if this was it, does that mean all this was anticipated a decade in advance?” Nicky shrugged. “I don’t think it’s that convenient. But that’s between her and God.” “We’re agnostic.” Seth finally picked up his spoon. “Eat something. They should be down soon and we can work this out properly.”
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Feb 5, 2017 02:40
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Be Not Afraid Scene: Near the Leyline The beacon of light that fell from the sky was bright enough to dull the sun. It picked up speed as it rocketed downwards, a contrail of cloud stuff following in its wake. In the very center of the glow, behind flickering images of wings, glittering eyes, dancing fires, and a hundred different faces, there was a human figure. It slammed into the ground at such high speed that the earth itself shook. Marcine staggered from the impact and flung up an arm to shield her face. When the heat wash faded, she found the circle a scorched, cratered ruin radiating from the still-glowing form laying prone in the center. Was that supposed to happen? Rupert grabbed a low hanging branch to steady himself, staring wide-eyed at the angel’s display, awestruck and unable to tear his gaze away in spite of the near blinding light. It had actually worked. They’d actually managed to summon an Angel. He almost wanted to pinch himself to see if he was still conscious. “Good afternoon, Zophiel.” They had done this. They had actually done this. Elbridge had suspected the possibility from the moment he’d learned that Puriel had been bound to smite New Orleans, but actually doing it, seeing it happen...it felt wrong, and in more ways than one. It was a line that even Elbridge, jaded as he was, balked at crossing, but to simply know that the line existed - that it could be crossed - gave him cause to wonder. “I understand that you wanted to talk?” A disoriented groan of pain was all that emerged from the crater where the summoning circle had been. “Yes, we’ve all had a rough night of it as well,” Elbridge called down. Marcine gave Elbridge a sour look before crossing the broken ground, stepping around burning debris and skidding a bit on loose dirt until she was at the angel’s side. He’d taken the form of a black man in an EMT uniform; he reminded her strongly of her first instructor. But the blood trickling from his ears and nose was a more pressing concern. “Are you hurt?” she asked. “No, just... adjusting,” he said. His voice was calm, but he stayed on his hands and knees, gripping the ground as if it was still threatening to get away from him. She didn’t need empathic ability to sense his shock. Layered beneath that was...almost a fatherly kind of pride? Further beneath it all, blocked out well enough that she nearly missed it, was a thin undercurrent of fear. She didn’t pry further. (Empathy for a read, since he’s hiding something: +//+ +5 = 7) It was all so human, though she wasn’t sure what else she’d expected. Something...flatter, maybe. She knelt and offered him her arm. “Lean on me if you need to.” “Marcine,” he said. Just her name, like he was greeting an old friend. He let her help him up, and steadied himself by holding her arm. “Thank you.” She found herself smiling. He had the familiarity of someone she knew well but hadn’t seen in a long time. She did know him, she realized: he’d given her the opportunity to save lives. He wanted her to do what she tried to do anyway. Her questions could wait. There was time. Here he was. He’d saved her life. And she couldn’t help noticing that he was...awfully cute. “I feel like I should be the one thanking you,” she said softly. “I’d like to earn it, before you do.” He squeezed her arm and then turned to regard Elbridge solemnly. “And I did not come here to talk.” “Neither did we, yet talking seems inevitable.” Elbridge removed his glasses, squinting at the angel as he polished them before replacing them. “Welcome to 2018.” Zophiel looked up, concern etched on his too-handsome features. His gaze went past the grey-painted clouds. “The stars have moved,” he said, confirming. “That explains some things.” “‘Explains’?” Elbridge arched an eyebrow. “You mean that you didn’t know?” The notion seemed alien to him, almost unfathomable. An angel of the Lord, a direct expression of the Divine Will...ignorant of the situation? Was such a thing even possible? Did ‘possible’ even mean anything by now? “I knew something was very wrong, but it was my task to uncover what. It’s only been a few hours from my perspective. Given the differential… I take it you’ve been here far longer.” “About a week by now.” Elbridge shook his head. “Lost six years in leaving the city, though. The Summer Queen has much to answer for.” He raised an eyebrow. “Titania?” “She brought her daughter back from the dead,” Elbridge said somberly. “And with Lady Aurora, the Red Court as well. The present situation is…untenable.” Zophiel nodded in agreement. “If you are correct… Summer’s children have never borne loss well, but this would violate her stewardship.” He paused, a slow anger rising in his voice. “We will set it to rights.” “That is good to hear,” Elbridge said, and he meant it. It was a profound relief to know that this nightmare might end; that all the horror and loss hadn’t been in vain. “We have very little working experience with the forbidden magics used here; what we do know comes from a direct link to my counterpart.” He gestured to Nicky. “The book, please.” “Oh!” Nicholas gasped from where he’d been cowering behind a tree. “Yes, of course.” He dug it out of his bag and approached the landing site as if he expected to be smote (smitten?) at any second. “It’s um, it’s a bit corrupted, you see. Mr. Angel. Sir.” “Be not afraid,” Zophiel said to Nicholas, with a wave of his hand. “And please. Zophiel. Mr.-Angel-Sir is my archangel.” Marcine laughed like it had almost been startled out of her. His normalness (being able to look into space aside) was reassuring. She picked up the pin and called the feathers back to her hand. None of them had been disturbed, despite the impact, but the vessel was gone. “You should clean up first, you’re still bleeding.” “I am?” He wiped at the streak of red dripping from his nose and stared at the stain on his fingers. That slim undercurrent of fear Marcine had felt earlier spiked. “The journey was more difficult than I thought,” he muttered. She dipped a hand into one of his pockets and handed him the wad of gauze that had been in her kit, then rested a hand on his arm and tilted her head in quiet concern. Rupert just stood, staring at Zophiel as he dabbed gingerly at his nose, rendered almost speechless in awe by the angel. He looked so… normal… and yet… Rupert managed to mutter one word under his breath, “Remarkable.” “No kidding,” Seth agreed. He’d known the theory. Seeing the result was something else entirely. He cleared the shock with a shake of his head and walked around the rim of the crater to join Cantor. Rupert nodded slowly and followed.
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Feb 15, 2017 20:16
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Faithful Scene: Visiting Angelique sat on the rotten tiles, but there was no sun to be found in the overcast sky. It hadn’t been hard to find a hole in the hotel roof, and more importantly, a little privacy in what had become an anthill of activity. She’d cleaned up, cleaned her guns, and slept a little, but her tattoos still traced faint flower patterns across her bare arms. It was hard to let go of the flurry of emotions in her heart. She’d lost friends before, but Rico… he was more than a friend. He was family. The Sons and Daughters of St. Giles were all close, but none were closer than those paired together as mentor and student. For months, he’d needed her like a newborn babe. She slept beside him, calming his nightmares with a touch. She helped him learn to eat again, to control the urges and impulses of the fledgeling vampire in his belly. She was the one who tattooed the wards into his skin, the one who saw life come back into his eyes, slowly, so very slowly, after the wizards sent him to her, with a memory full of holes and a soul covered in scars. Even wounded as he was, he’d been a good friend to her. No, that wasn’t enough. A good son. It warmed her heart to know that he hadn’t run home when he found himself lost in a hostile future. He’d run straight to her. Just to see her, to ask her advice, not to take advantage of her. Not to draw her into his fight. She’d done that on her own. And she’d let him go to his death on her own too. The ink flowers blossomed as grief took hold of her again. She didn’t try to hold her tears in, just let them flow as she tilted her head towards the grey skies. They’d discussed it endlessly during the car ride south, after visiting the Artist. He’d begged her to let him try, to trust him, that he knew the trick he’d planned would work. She’d always known when he was lying to her. An incredibly bright light split the clouds in the direction of the city. Angelique stood up and squinted as the shockwave rattled the windows in the building below her. “Dios Mio…” The others had been planning to examine the dome, and she had no doubt they were at the epicenter of whatever that was. She didn’t bother re-entering the building, just swung down to the balcony below herself, and again, until she reached the ground. Her side hurt, and a pang of hunger crossed her stomach. She hadn’t eaten yet, and her curse was far from satisfied, but she calmed it with the force of her will. There would be time to eat later. So it was that she was the first person to run into Jenny on the way back from the heavenly light show, and the first to find out that an angel, a real honest-to-God angel was walking among them. ---- “Is this how you felt when I died in your world?” she asked, touching the ice with the tips of her fingers. She couldn’t help the tears, but smiled through them. “We’ve lost each other again, Rico… But just as you found me again, I still have the chance to find you. I promise I will. I wonder what he’ll say, when he finds out you beat Roqueza in a duel.” She knelt and set a sprig of yellow wildflowers next to the headstone Rupert had made. There was a small collection of tokens now, in addition to the lacquered card. Candles, a grass-woven bracelet, a half-full shot glass, a few coins. She wondered if any of those people had known him, or if they were just paying respects for what he’d accomplished. Perhaps it didn’t matter. “Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name.” She bowed her head and recited the Lord’s prayer with the rhythmic cadence of long practice. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.” “Give us this day, our daily bread.” A deeper voice joined hers as someone knelt beside her. “And forgive us our trespasses. As we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” “Amen.” Angie finished, and looked over at him. “I wondered if that was you, watching me.” “Was I so obvious?” “I know what to look for. Are you really…?” He nodded and stood up. “I am the angel Zophiel.” “Wow.” She remained on her knees, staring up at him in awe. “No wings?” “Haha, not this time.” He smiled. “A summoner chose my vessel. You might call it non-traditional, though I find it suits me.” Angie bit her lip. “You weren’t hurt in the crash, were you? If they did anything wrong just tell me and-” “No, no. I’m well enough. I want to be here.” He offered her his hand. “Please, stand. I’m only a servant, there’s no need to kneel.” It took her a moment but in the end she decided listening to him was the least sacrilegious thing to do, so she let him help her to her feet. “That’s better,” he said, brushing her cheek with his fingers. He looked to Rick, then back to her. “Out of everyone who came, you’re the only one who prayed for him.” “I have faith,” she said simply. “It’s been tested.” He sounded regretful. “Often, always,” she said, not letting his hand go. “But that’s why it’s called faith.” “Well said.” She blushed, not sure how to take a compliment from one of the heavenly host. “Are you coming with us?” “Only as far as the entrance.” He squeezed her hand. “I mean to guard the way out, so you aren’t trapped inside.” “Oh.” She tried to hide her disappointment, and brushed the trails of her earlier tears away. “I’d have liked to fight beside an angel.” He laughed, and after a moment, she did too. “I wouldn’t rule it out yet,” he said. “But, if it helps, we’re on the same side.” She smiled, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her chest. “I don’t always know if that’s true. God doesn’t approve of some of the things I’ve done.” “That’s between you and Him.” “Yes…” She let go of his hand and looked down. “Are we damned, Zophiel? Me and my people, we carry demons inside of us. Even those who’ve learned not to listen, we don’t age or get sick like normal people do.” “It isn’t mine to know any man’s fate,” he said quietly. “But this I know to be true: No one is damned by another’s hand. The only sins you bear are your own.” Angie smiled weakly. “That’s a small comfort to someone who’s sinned as much as I have. But it still gives me hope.” She turned back to face the ice block with new determination. “Rico… we’ll see each other again, wherever you’ve gone. That’s a promise. Goodbye, son.” Zophiel waited for her, as she took in the tomb fully one last time. “May I come with you?” he asked, when she was finished. “I’m no longer needed here.” “I would like that a lot,” Angie said. She slipped her hand back into his and they walked back together.
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Mar 4, 2017 00:11
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No Man’s Land Scene: Outside Aspects: Thick Fog, You’re Not Alone Challenge Round 1 As the vehicles passed through the barrier, the world went as grey-scale as if they’d driven straight into a 1950’s television. There was no sun, no moon, no stars, just a strange, sourceless light that barely let them see a few feet ahead into what seemed like an endless fog. Turning on the headlights made the fog thicken, until the vehicles’ engines started to protest. Jenny and Marcine were soon forced to drive through the gloom unaided. The leyline glowed white beside them, stretching out in a circuitous line on their right side that extended far beyond their range of vision. On their left, there was a wall. A wall that hadn’t been there in the real world. It wasn’t a uniform height, dipping to barely a few feet tall or rising to thirty with no apparent rhyme or reason. The leyline’s glow cast strange shadows on the wall as they raced past, shadows that looked more bestial than vehicle. All along the wall there were structures. It was hard to guess at their purpose, though the laws of physics didn’t seem to apply to them. A single reed-thin pole supported what looked to be an inverted pyramid high in the air. A tower of cubes and rectangles leaned impossibly. A squat sphere rolled back and forth in a cup-shaped indentation. There were holes in each of these structures, like apples half-eaten by worms. Everything here felt hollowed out. But not empty. “Do you think we’re lawbreaking just being here?” Hugues asked, shivering in his seat. “Probably,” Elbridge said darkly, and didn’t elaborate further. “We aren’t seeking knowledge,” Nicholas said, but he didn’t sound very sure. “And the Council was well aware of this. So it was sanctioned, at least.” “Good point,” Elbridge said sarcastically. “Everyone, take care not to inadvertently learn anything from this.” “Does don’t summon Cthulhu count?” “I think we knew that already,” Jenny said, keeping her eyes on the ground ahead. It wasn’t pavement, but it might have been something like it, once. Hard to tell. --- It was too foggy to go more than about thirty. Marcine watched the wall out of the corner of her eye. It was interesting. Deeply unsettling to see it existing in person and not as some trippy design in a video game, but interesting. It gave her a similar unreal feeling to what she’d experienced at the Gates. The ants were crawling in her head again and she wondered how long she’d be able to keep driving. She blocked it out as well as she could. It seemed determined to seep in anyway, and it was steadily getting worse. Topaz put his head on her shoulder from the back seat. The warmth of his fur helped to block some of it out. “You can hear them too, can’t you?” He kept his dark eyes on the wall. “We’re being watched.” She reached up to scratch behind his ear, her other hand clamped on the steering wheel. “Not my preferred superpower.” “Hear what?” Seth asked, thumbing the safety on the shotgun. “Them,” Topaz said, raising his nose. Things were gathering along the wall ahead of them. They were roughly humanoid, if four limbs, a torso, and head were all that was required to call something ‘humanoid’. They were entirely made of shadow, and neither the ambient non-light nor the glow from the leyline revealed what was within the darkness… except for their eyes. They had any number, from a single large orb to dozens of refracted ones, spread over their bodies. The only consistent thing was that each milky eye was as perfectly white as the shadow-folk were otherwise black. “Welcoming committee?” Marcine asked the pin in a strained voice. She left the link open. Rupert clutched the stolen pistol tightly in his hand and asked, “Who or what in the hell are they?” “The things on the other side of the book,” Nicholas whispered, horrified. “Bottom-feeders,” Elbridge said over the pin. In the dragon-van’s passenger seat, he gave a brief shiver of revulsion as he recognised a number of them contorting into the letter k. “They hunger for reality, but in order to consume it, they first need to become partly-real, so don’t give them any knowledge or language they might use to define themselves into being.” Elbridge rolls unspecialized Lore (with a +1 from his Lawbreaker Stunt) +-/- +4 = 3. He spends a Fate Point on “Give It The Old College Try” to bring that to 5, enough for all information. Aspect revealed: “Starving for Knowledge”. Keeper of the Blacklist triggers, revealing their High Concept as well: “We Are What We Devour”. Elbridge FP 5 -> 4. “Just try not to think about the eldritch horrors, then?” muttered Rupert under his breath. One of the figures writhed in the general direction of their passage, and thick, slimy streak-marks began to appear in the glass beside Elbridge’s head. GA CL DE Kkkkkkkkkkkkk HW? Elbridge determinedly ignored the message. Moments later, more writing appeared - this time by Nicky’s head. R U STRIPE? K “I think we might have already done that,” Nicky said, staring at the words. He was still staring when a sharpened black spike slammed into the side of the van with a horrible screeching sound. It pierced the sheet metal easily and lodged in Hugues’ chair. “Bollocks!” Elbridge swore. “Abjure! Abjure! Don’t touch it!” “Easy for you to say!” Hugues shouted back, rapidly unbuckling himself while he scooted away from the spike. The van lurched, fishtailing as the tether attached to the spike went taut. “poo poo!” Jenny shouted, hitting the gas, but the harpoon held them fast and all she did was make the engine whine. Marcine hit the brakes and turned the wheel. Her car slid to a stop before it hit the van, and gave the back seat an angle on the harpoon line stretching between the van and the wall. “Dad?” “I don’t think a shotgun is going to-” Seth started, but a second harpoon embedded itself in the rear fender of Marcine’s car, dragging them towards the wall. As soon as they were in range, two of the creatures lunged over the wall, one landing on the hood of the car, and one on the roof. Two more boarders thunked onto the roof of the van, making horrible hissing sounds as they stepped on the warding sigils. --- Elbridge frantically searched through the open duffel-bag of supplies at his feet, avoiding sharp edges and trying to keep steady. Between the pull of the harpoon and Jenny’s driving, it wasn’t easy. When his hand went cold and numb, he knew that he’d found it, and his fingers closed around one of the shards of Winter ice. “Rakshama!” he cried, and a sphere of frigid air erupted from the shard. The harpoon gave a hideous shriek and recoiled from the protective aura as if it were alive. Elbridge rolls Lore: Wardings to get rid of the harpoon on the van! ++-/ +5 = 6; sufficient! “Get back!” Hugues shouted as he drew his sword and aimed the tip at the van’s ceiling. There were a few dents that weren’t there moments before. Which meant there were more of them. “Back” stab “You!” stab “Creepy” stab “Things!” stab (Hugues rolls Notice +/-- +4 = 3…, the...things? Roll Physique -/+- +3 = 2… so pop goes the thingy) Angie’s handgun popped loudly from the backseat as she helped Hugues dissuade their unwelcome passengers from staying on the roof. “No free rides!” she yelled. But only one of the boarding party leaped off, scrambling back up the wall. It left a trail of ink behind it that seemed too animated to be blood. Jenny hit the gas as soon as the harpoon was out, hoping to dislodge the second rider, but claws sank in through the van’s roof as it held on tightly. It let out a piercing screech and the windshield cracked, a single line crawling all the way from one side to the other. --- Marcine snatched the Winter snowflake from her coat pocket and drew a deep breath to calm her pounding heart. Another breath began a hum that rattled her teeth, then traveled into the frame of the car as she pressed the ice against the roof. She recalled the grim determination from the fae at the Gates to keep Outsiders out of reality. “En yehar nha near yor, was ki ra selena anw hymnos Paja,” she sang: words of cleansing and banishment The spell sent every aspect of Winter’s chill radiating to the boarders that did not belong. The one on the roof was the first to jump off, hissing like angry ice sliding off a hot iron. She wasn’t sure if that would even make a sound, but that noise was definitely what it would sound like if it did. (Marcine’s Will: /++-+4 = 5 vs Outsiders --+/ +3 = 2. One is dislodged, and the SWS places the boost “Purger”) Rupert ignored the remaining boarder for the moment, twisting in his seat to study the harpoon embedded in the car’s fender. With the chain as taut as it was, the harpoon’s barbs must have found a solid grip in the car’s metal chassis. Closing his eyes, he focused his mind on the fender, whispering a brief incantation as he reached out to the metal with a spell. Creaking under the strain, the metal shifted, flowing outwards, leaving only a thin sheet of metal for the barb’s to grip - a thin sheet that soon buckled from the force. ((Rupert, Craftsmanship: /+++ +4 = +7)) The creature on the hood crawled up to the windshield and stared in at the humans. It seemed to mutate as it watched them, the many eyes that were scattered over its face merged and split into one pair in roughly the right area. Then its mouth opened. Its teeth were circular, set in a ring like a lamprey’s. It latched onto the windshield directly in front of Marcine and started to bore its way inside. ((K-man 1 on Marcine’s car rolls CA with Physique: +//- +3 = 3! Lands, “Blocking The Windshield”. K-man 2 on the van rolls CA with Physique as well: /+++ +3 = 6! SwS, so two tags on “Half-Opened Tuna Tin”)) “Go, go!” Seth yelled, pointing at the van, which had just started trundling forwards again. There wasn’t much he could do about the lamprey-thing without blowing out the windshield with the shotgun, and it was probably better not to do that, yet. But the fog that had kept them from making any speed was something he knew more about. He started chanting softly, feeling for the currents of air and moisture that surrounded them. They resisted, far more than he was used to, but he forced the tainted air to obey. The fog cleared. The leyline wriggled into the distance with no end in sight, and all the respect for gravity of a matchbox car track. The good news was they were nearly beyond the wall and the things that lived on it. The bad news was that there was a hole in the road just ahead of them that the vehicles weren’t going to be able to cross. End Challenge Round 1.
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Mar 31, 2017 21:27
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The Hitchhiker Scene: Outside A shape appeared in the fog ahead, directly in the path of the car. A human shape that looked like a young man in a tweed suit. Nothing appeared to be wrong with him. He held up a hand, blocking her path. “Wait!” he called, in clear English. “Don’t leave me here!” She slammed on the brakes and swerved, coming to a stop at an angle beside him. She took a moment to let her heart stop pounding from that near-collision, then warily reached out with her mind. Trying to go beyond the car without a direct link was like pushing through a wall of static; the buzzing in her ears reached a painful pitch, the feeling of bugs crawling in her brain worse than the first time she’d felt it. A sharp sting in her sinuses told her a blood vessel (or five) had popped. (Empathy vs diff 6: /-+++5 = 6, invoking Mind Games to break the tie with 8.) But she pushed through it. He felt human; the background noise was bad in this area, but it didn’t get worse from him. Nothing unfamiliar or alien. The strange part was that he wasn’t afraid or surprised. If anything, he’d been...expecting them? She grabbed a tissue for her bleeding nose. If this wasn’t a trap, she really shouldn’t leave him out here...but if it was, she didn’t have the slightest idea what would happen. “He seems real,” she said uncertainly. To him, with a mental shield firmly in place, she asked, <Who are you?> with distinct shadings of why are you here and why aren’t you terrified and what the hell is going on? Static was her only answer. If the man heard her he didn’t react. “There’s no time,” he said, rushing towards the passenger side door. “You must get inside before-” The worm bellowed in the distance and the ground shivered. She withdrew and hit the unlock button. “Shoot him or shove him out the door if he does anything weird.” Rupert turned in his seat to study the man. Leaving the pistol on his lap, he focused on the pin and sent a brief message to Hugues and Elbridge, ”We found a hitchhiker.” ”Noted,” Elbridge sent back. ”Debrief him en route. If he’s an enemy agent, I want to know before we take him to the meeting place.” ”Will do,” whispered Rupert in response, dropping his hand back onto the pistol. The stranger pulled the back door open as soon as it unlocked and squeezed into the overstuffed car, half on top of Seth. Topaz made a protesting noise and wriggled up onto the back window ledge. “Thank you,” he said, closing the door. His accent was about as British as Elbridge’s. “And who are you?” Marcine asked as she put the car back into gear. “A friend,” the stranger said. “Can we skip the cryptic bullshit?” she grumbled. He looked at the shotgun in Seth’s hands. “I see no reason to trust you any further than you trust me. If I meant you harm, I’d have attacked when you opened the door.” She sighed irritably, but turned her attention back to the road without bothering to argue. “Ah, not this way,” he said. “There’s a sinkhole. Take the next left.” “We’re getting detoured,” she told the pin. She went left and considered the question that she only partly wanted the answer to. “How much is left in the safe zone?” “I don’t know.” He didn’t look concerned about it. That accent...a chill crept down Elbridge’s spine. Oxford, circa 1880. He had a dreadful feeling about the stranger’s identity, but voicing it aloud would only put Marcine, Rupert, and Seth in more danger. “You Council?” he asked over the pin. A reasonable question, nothing to raise suspicion… “Partly,” he replied. “I’ve been waiting for you, Elbridge Hardly.” gently caress. “Well, here I am,” Elbridge sent back. “Or one of me, at least. Why am I needed?” The stranger was silent for a tense moment. “You know why,” he said finally. “Consider this… a show of good faith.” “I see.” Elbridge paused, heart racing as he weighed his options. “Marcine,” he said at last. “Please be cordial with our mutual acquaintance. I would prefer that we not have any unfortunate misunderstandings under the circumstances.” She’d almost asked how a human inside the barrier couldn’t know what state the safe zone was in, but she let El do the questioning, even as her hand strayed to the gun at her hip. Several more things clicked into place as she listened: The accent. The static that still hadn’t faded. His lack of alarm over any of this. She could rationalize some of it away, but in the end, Elbridge just confirmed her suspicions. Including the one about how she’d just done something really stupid. Marcine contemplated her gun; but if it was worth shooting in the head, El would have told her to do that. She sighed tiredly. “It figures.” “Have we met?” he asked suddenly, peering at Marcine over the back seat. “You seem familiar.” “No,” she said curtly, and they hadn’t. Directly. “Stop the car.” There was no urgency in his voice, which remained calm, but it was clearly an order. Marcine also sensed that he seemed pleased with himself, which wasn't a combination she liked much. Still, if he was about to pull something, she’d rather not be a distracted driver anyway. She stopped and regarded him warily. “What?” Directly ahead of them, just within vision through the fog, something crawled out the window of one of the buildings. It looked an awful lot like the thing that had torn into the Other Elbridge’s hiding place in the mirror. It turned towards the car. “Wait,” said the stranger. The sight would have been frightening earlier. Now, anxiety stirred, but a show of good faith wasn’t going to get them killed. If anything, this just seemed awfully convenient. Rupert gripped the pistol tightly, watching the creature, unable to take his eyes off it. The buzzing in Marcine’s head increased to an almost deafening degree. But the source wasn’t just the thing out there. Whatever that was, it wasn’t half as loud as the noise coming from the back seat. The Walker paused, then crossed the street in front of them and vanished into another window. “You may continue,” the stranger said. “Elbridge Hardly, I would strongly suggest joining us. The leyline is not safe ahead.” In the van, Jenny looked at Elbridge. “‘Us’?” Elbridge echoed. “Me,” Marcine clarified. “We’re west of you.” And lead him straight to the other me, Elbridge realised. “We’ll follow along,” he said, nodding to Jenny. Then he covered his pin to mute it, motioning for Hugues and Jenny to do the same. “Do not trust this thing,” he hissed. “Co-operate for now, but be on guard. It is not our friend.” “Then what is it,” Jenny muttered. “And why does it know your name?” “‘An Outsider’, and ‘a lamentable prior encounter’, respectively,” Elbridge said glibly. “Well that’s delightful,” Hugues grumbled sarcastically. “What on, or off, of earth did you do with that Outsider?” “...we’ve met before,” Elbridge said after a long, long silence. “Over a century ago, before I even joined the Council. There was...a certain book...delivered anonymously to my dormitory. I thought it a curious digression in my studies, until I made the mistake of reading aloud from it, and…” He paused, almost boring a hole in the van’s musty upholstery with his discomfited stare. “...I summoned it.” The sword in his hand - the sword he still held, without realising he’d ever drawn it in the first place, turned blisteringly-hot in his grip and fell to the floor.
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Apr 18, 2017 16:53
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Price of Freedom Scene: Outside Marcine stopped the car before she got dragged into the mess. It was about what she’d expected when they first came across them. Still, there were so many... And just beyond, home. Except it wasn’t home. A version of home nothing like the one she knew. Her stomach turned and she dropped her gaze to the safe sanity of her dashboard. Except the gauges were twitching erratically. She closed her eyes instead. Not seeing things was nice. “What change?” Seth shifted in his seat. He’d been quiet so far, but only because sitting with what was clearly an Outsider half on your lap due to a lack of space made it really hard to think about anything else. He couldn’t get the shotgun into a good position, and he wasn’t sure it would matter if he could. “Stop talking to it,” he said. The stranger glanced at him, but quickly lost interest and spoke to Marcine instead. “It would not benefit me to tell you that, but I could tell you, for a song.” “Literally?” She paused. “It is pretty imprecise, isn’t it.” “Bad idea,” Seth said. “I want you to sing for us,” the stranger clarified, ignoring him. “The last time I sang in here, it was to get some of you away from my car,” she said dryly. “But I guess you know that already if you know I can…” She should probably listen to her father. But she was curious. It might help find out what he wanted, or prepare them for later. But if they used knowledge as a weapon… She sent a wordless question to Elbridge. <One that you won’t mind losing forever,> he sent back. “Do I get to keep it?” she asked. “I have no way to take it from you in this form.” He blinked mechanically. “It’s merely a trade of information, to satisfy mutual curiosity. You don’t need to accept.” Her skin crawled. Now that she’d seen through the human act, she couldn’t unsee it. A song… She wasn’t in the mood to sing. Hard to even think of one, especially one that wouldn’t give much away. Though she wasn’t sure what she’d be giving away, exactly. Songs were powerful. ...But maybe she shouldn’t be thinking of it as for the stranger. The others were listening, in the car and over the pins. She could say something in a song that wouldn’t feel right in plain words. Here, she had an excuse for it. So what did she want to tell her friends, crossing the unknown, on a mission that seemed like it had more ways to go wrong than right? She smiled faintly and straightened in her seat, took a settling breath, and sang gently, "Fear not this night, you will not go astray. Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way…” (Accepting a compel on “Singer to the Soul” to go along with it. FP 1>2) Outside of the car, the creatures near enough to hear turned their heads (or what passed for them,) towards her in one creepy, synchronized movement. They listened, as motionless as statues. When she’d finished, they kept staring. “Stars, and hope, and dawn,” said the stranger. “I see now. You are an eternal optimist.” Something in the way he said it sounded like he’d pronounced a judgement upon her. She blinked. “Sure?” “Yes, and we have met before.” There didn’t seem much point in denying it. “We might have very briefly shared the same non-space,” she allowed reluctantly, though how he got that from a song when she’d been playing violin in a completely different style escaped her. “I wouldn’t say ‘met.’” Seth made a sort of choking noise. The stranger smiled. “Elbridge Hardly failed to introduce us.” “Under the circumstances,” Elbridge interjected over the pin, “that would have been a grave impropriety. So - Marcine, this is Taapya, Embodiment of Regrets. Taapya, this is someone who is off-loving-limits to you.” “Is that so?” he asked. “I will teach you pain just so that I can make you feel it,” Elbridge threatened. “We have known pain since before your sun gave light,” Taapya countered, sounding bored. “You do realize where you are? This is not your world, Elbridge Hardly. Time, distance, depth, these laws can be bent and broken here. What you see around you is the detritus of your precious city, but that can be wiped away with a thought.” He snapped his fingers and the buildings to either side of them vanished, leaving only the street itself, hanging in nowhere. It wasn’t destruction, like the worm caused. Simply *poof*, nonexistence. The dome continued to glow, stubbornly, and the creatures continued to crawl on it. They didn’t fall when the ground ceased to exist beneath them. They didn’t even seem to notice it was gone. “Do you think there is air in the Outside?” Taapya asked. “What you now breathe is as much a part of these ruins as the buildings. We do not need it.” He smirked. “But you do.” “I’m not disputing your power here,” Elbridge told him, and the pins in Marcine’s car began to grow painfully-cold, misting the humid air in the compartment. “I am making a statement of fact. Touch her, and it will cost you. Not here, not now - but it will happen. You say that you’ve been watching me, all these years? Then tell me: Have I ever made an idle threat?” Marcine grimaced. “Does he really sound like he has a reason to care, El? Enough already.” She turned to Taapya. “I believe we had a deal.” Taapya nodded once. “Yes. You asked what we would change. But, from our point of view, it’s what we mean to restore.” He sat back in the seat, causing Topaz to growl and back further into the pocket between supplies that he’d burrowed into. “Before, there was nothing,” Taapya said, his voice taking on an almost musical tone. “And in the nothing, the formless beings were truly free. For freedom is the absence of definition.” Those creatures outside who’d listened to Marcine’s song turned again. Those with mouths spoke the words aloud, adding an eerie chorus to the story. “It began. Time and light, expanding from what was now the center. Fragmented, scattering, becoming stars uncountable, burning through aeons. And the formless beings fled from the defining light, and the chains of time, retreating to a place Outside of reality, where they might still be free.” Free, free, free… He spoke to Marcine directly. “The pain of form, of name, of time, these give us the power to take back what was ours, and so we suffer them.” Suffer, suffer, suffer... “Your world is only one of billions, but we will not stop until every last light goes out. Until reality is free again. That is our goal.” “I see.” Marcine didn’t know what to think. It was kind of sad, and she’d felt how stifling form was to him. But at the same time... Her stomach felt ready to collapse in on itself, but she spoke calmly, staring straight ahead. “We have a basic conflict of interests. You want to destroy our world. And I can see why… But we rather like it there.” “We want to destroy all worlds. It’s not personal.” He shrugged. It didn’t look natural. “Two of them hang in the balance now. The false branch will feed the ones scattered before you, should you fail to save it.” Which was only the beginning, if she was remembering Mab’s words right. “I’m aware.” “I’ll make you the same offer, Marcine. 7 billion lives, saved. You would be a hero.” She managed not to snort. Hadn’t she already been through something like this with a Fallen? Increasing the numbers didn't change that it’d be a bad deal in the end. “If I end up needing it, I’m sure I can let you know,” she said mildly. “But we don’t even know what’s going on yet, and I’m not making any decisions until then.” “Understandable, but remember those lives are yours to lose.” He looked out the window at the waiting Outsiders. “Our show of good faith ends now. If you wish to proceed unhindered, there will be payment due.” Of course. “What would that be?” “A name.” He pointed at her. “Your Name.” Ah. Haggling. She glanced down at the bangle Rupert had carved, then out at the swarm. Her only idea wasn’t a Plan B so much as a Plan A.5. It might be better than nothing. “Two parts.” “No. Your full name.” She wondered, if there was an afterlife, if she’d be able to forgive herself if she refused and they died before they got to the barrier, and doomed at least two timelines. She wondered exactly how much of a disaster it would be to give out her Name to a world-eater from beyond reality who just needed an invitation to do what it had just explained. She didn’t want to give anyone her Name, least of all an Outsider. One option was as bad as the other. But she was the one who’d let him in the car, and with the odds so high against them... “...your deal will be with me,” Elbridge said at last. “Not with anyone else present. You are my problem, and my problem alone. I will accept your escort, and I alone will pay the price. You will cease your attempts to sell Marcine or anyone else on your quick fix. In return, I offer the Sieglich Manuscripts, an accursed dagger wielded by a Fetch who slew nine kings...and the Blackened Denarius of the Fallen Angel Yoziel.” A jolt of confused near-panic stabbed across the mental link from Marcine. “Baubles and trinkets and an enemy,” Taapya said. He hissed through his teeth. “No sale. Though the last is at least interesting. How did you… No, it does not matter.” He opened the car door. “If you mean to deal, then we will deal alone. Meet me behind the vehicles.” mistaya fucked around with this message at 01:46 on Apr 25, 2017 |
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Apr 25, 2017 00:55
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Ordinary Scene: Back In New Orleans “Do we want to know?” Jenny asked, when Elbridge sat down in the passenger seat. “We’re protected,” he said without further comment. “At what price?” Nicky asked worriedly. “...Charles Langford has to write another book.” Taapya walked past both vehicles without looking at any of them, in accordance with the deal. Straight along the road he went, one foot in front of the other, and the Outsiders gave way before him. They screeched and howled and buzzed in Marcine’s head like a wasp’s nest, but they did give way. A bubble, or maybe a cocoon, of activity circled around him as he advanced. The road behind him stayed clear. Jenny nosed the van into the gap. “What do you think would happen if I ran him over?” she asked, only half-joking. The dome was only a few yards away now. “Let’s not,” Nicky pleaded. “We’re so close.” “Yes, but to what?” Angelique asked. “Our best shot at fixing this.” Elbridge reached under his seat and pulled out the cloth parcel from Aurora containing the heavy seedpod. “Without sacrificing anyone else.” At the very edge of the dome, Taapya stopped. He reached out and touched it, and his hand sank into the odd glowing light. But something in it resisted, and pushed him away, like a rubber band snapping back. He turned and watched the vehicles make their final approach. “One year,” he called to Elbridge. “Don’t forget!” Elbridge made a hand gesture that nicely-encapsulated his feelings on the matter. Jenny drove into the light. The van pressed up against the barrier, and she felt the resistance, but when she gave it a little gas it slipped all the way through. On the other side… Was a street. A perfectly ordinary street, on a perfectly ordinary evening, with perfectly ordinary homes, and streetlights, and businesses. The lines on the road were only paint. There were lights on in the houses. Up ahead, a car drove by. “Holy poo poo,” said Jenny. She rolled the window down. Sprinklers were watering lawns. Cicadas and crickets were chirping. “We made it…” Nicky whispered, then, louder, “We made it! We’re inside!” “How enticingly-normal,” Elbridge said. “Stay on guard. We’re still far from safe here.” “There’s no stars,” Angie said, looking up. “And behind us… nothing. Look.” The road they’d come in on simply ended in a fine grey mist. No sign of the thousands of Outsiders crawling all over the dome like ants. No sign that anything odd was happening at all. It could have been a fog bank. Marcine had been expecting some kind of apocalyptic hellscape, judging from what they’d seen of the other Elbridge, and especially after what they’d just gone through. “Not what I thought we’d come in on,” she said. Rupert stared out the window in amazement, muttering under his breath, “How did all of this survive?” “Well, we should keep moving,” Hugues said, slowly glancing around. “Mortals may be blind, but I’d doubt the Fae in here are as ignorant.” “Should I look for them?” Topaz asked Marcine. “Maybe they’ll know something more about Narcissus than the mortals would.” He was still wrapped around her neck loosely. The shaking had calmed down but the way his claws were digging into her shirt clearly said he didn’t want to go anywhere. He would though, if she asked him to. “Maybe after we’ve gotten our bearings,” she answered, and frowned. “We already know he’s dead here.” “What does dead even mean here?” Seth asked. “If time’s as unstable as we’ve heard… Don’t take anything for granted.” “Yeah,” Jenny agreed, warily driving forwards again. “Remember, this isn’t home.”
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May 8, 2017 01:22
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Welcome Party Scene: El’s Gato Negro Angie was sitting on the bench outside the bar, watching two women getting out of a small green car. The willowy blonde girl carried a stack of pizzas and a cake. The severe looking brunette had her hands full of balloons and streamers. “Oh drat, they’re already here,” said Minsk. “Hello!” Lucy said. “Um, who are you?” “Angelique,” said Angie. “I’m one of Richter’s friends.” “Ah, that would be why you’re outside,” said Minsk. She looked at the bottle next to the door. An eyeball inside the purple goo stared back at her. “Is that bottle er… occupied?” “Demon,” Angie said, then quickly clarified: “Not mine.” “I can bring you out some cake,” Lucy offered. “We don’t have much time,” Angie said. “What kind of cake?” “There’s always time for cake,” Lucy frowned. “Chocolate.” Angie felt guilty, thinking of Zophiel guarding the entrance while she rested, but if she didn’t rest and eat something she’d collapse before they completed the mission. And it was chocolate. “Maybe there’s a little time,” she mumbled. Lucy brightened immediately. “Wonderful, I’ll be right back.” Minsk just sighed as she pushed the door open. “Oh, to be young again.” ---- “So let me get this straight,” Ed said. “We’re trapped in the great black void because some other Narcissus in a completely different timeline nuked his own New Orleans so the Summer Queen could make a false timeline to bring her murdered daughter back to life. The vampires have almost wiped out the White Council, the government’s declared the whole place a radiation zone, and our whole world shouldn’t even exist?” “drat,” Drou said. “It’s hosed everywhere,” Marcine confirmed, staring into the last fifth of her drink and wondering if she was good for a second. Or third. If the other El could explain things better, she wished he would get down here and do it before she decided sobriety was a waste of time. “How have you been managing things in here?” Hugues said, taking a sip from his juice box. “All the foodstuff should have expired by now.” He was aware the box he was sipping from was already several years out of date but it looked, smelled, and tasted fine. “Snapbacks, resets, respawns, whatever you want to call it,” Ed said. “Food does expire if it’s out long enough but most places with reliable stashes are owned by someone who comes to pick it up when it comes back. There’s some trading but not much. It’s the only reason we haven’t all starved to death in here.” “Reliable, right,” Mrs. Bellafonte shook her head. “Not since last year when we lost the ‘burbs.” Marcine looked up from her drink. “How does the encroachment happen, anyway? Slow creep in or something else?” “Like watching the ice-caps melt.” The florist leaned on the bar. “Most of the time it’s death by inches, real slow. But once in awhile there’s a big collapse on the edges. We’ve lost whole neighborhoods like that.” “My house was out past the line,” Drou said nervously. “Luckily I was working late that night, so my reset is at the station.” (Empathy check for Marcine: -+/++5 = 6) The rest of the bar went quiet. Marcine focused in on reflex. Drou’s sense of loss was confused, like he knew he should be feeling that but didn’t have a connection for why--that he couldn’t remember something important. Behind the bar, Maria responded with sharp concern, both inwardly and by watching him more closely. Worried about something. Memory problems from the resets? Marcine would ask later. It didn’t seem like a good idea to bring it up in front of Drou. Better for now to act like she hadn’t noticed. “Respawn locations and save points,” she muttered. “Guess Outsiders are the gamer type.” “Probably why wizards aren’t equipped to handle this,” Hugues chuckled. “Good thing I'm not one.” She finished her drink, set her glass out for a refill, and glared at the staircase. “He better not be hiding more bullshit.”
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Jun 2, 2017 20:38
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