'It certainly would have been better for his morale, especially the movie version,' Meris inwardly groused at Eirean's comment. Berating Miles would do no good, as they now needed to bring a Pride demon back from brink of complete despair while also pulling Wormsworth away from his self-infatuated ego. She glanced at Neasa and then the glass bottle of Magnum Paimon had taken hostage, encouraging her to maybe pry it away from him. The strong woman discreetly slipped next to the anguishing demon and pried his fingers away from the item, all the while easing away from him.
The Archmage sat down on one of the nearby stools and sighed as she looked over at the huge former commander. She spoke firmly yet gently, putting just enough power into her voice to grab his attention. "Paimon, I have a very important progress report for you, so listen well. We're all still quite alive, and the Loyalists haven't won yet. We've made some good headway at keeping the Squids from attacking so soon. My husband, Nereus, is now recovering from centuries worth of despair himself, and he now has hope since he'll be able to contact us and have others to rely on. He's going to do what he can to protect the mortals over on the West Coast when the Goat's forces attack, even if it's a ruse to fool the Chamberlain for the time being."
Clad in one of the aforementioned purple cocktail dresses, Abdiel joined them. "That's good to hear, so that gives us more of a fighting chance now," she noted to the selkie quietly, with an approving nod.
The Indian woman then carefully considered her words and said, "Paimon, rather than hear about literature topics, I think it would be good for you to talk to someone who's lived through experiences akin to what you're feeling. Meris had her own time of depression and aimlessness after she escaped Darlarath, and yet she's here now continuing to fight. I know others here might have similar situations, but I think she would be willing to talk about it, how she persevered. Consider it to be like trading old war stories."
***
Aspasia shrugged casually. "I can only speak for myself, but I've noticed that mistakes can sometimes linger through the generations and prevent issues from improving for the better. It's happened throughout history, and it continues in varying ways all over the world. History repeats itself and all," she observed.
"Of course, part of improving things is a matter of allowing bygones to be bygones. In your case, you sincerely offered them the property, but I suppose they just held onto all that bad blood rather than letting it go," she mused. "Their loss."
***
Aislinn had settled with a simpler magical approach after removing her clothes. Some asking of Meris had her learn a quick trick of using the air's moisture to remove odor and dirt from the body without having to run a shower or bath. After an application of deodorant, she pulled out some garments the Warlock would likely recognize- the gray tunic with the laced sleeves, black jeans, and combat boots.
Chapter V - Brimstone
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
"How would one's despair counter mine?" groused the Duke, his disbelief rather obvious. While Aidan and Vernon placed Wormsworth on one of the club's sectionals, Archie came forward, adding a bit of a beckoning gesture for Anjali. The girl followed along, curious as to what her father had in mind.
Archie sat across from Meris, his girl hopping onto his lap with a little assistance. "If I might, Your Grace, I would recount to you the means in which hope was restored to me in the past. From soldier to soldier, it might allow you to better understand how we mortals overcome what does indeed seem insurmountable at times."
The slightly-simian face nodded slightly, again trying and failing to go back to his old self-centered nature. "I'll allow it," he said, voice hoarse and ending in a sniffle.
"I served in the British Army at the height of the Colonial Era. How did we know Pride, dear fellow - only demons such as yourself could understand. With the British Raj in place, all of India virtually fell in lockstep with Great Britain. Rebellions were frequent, many sought aid from dark powers they scarcely understood, in order to repel the Caucasian invader. Many among my colleagues were avowed and proud racists, but all I could see was... barbarism. Crudeness unworthy of any proper English gentleman, factory boys from Birmingham and Leeds spewing their ignorance in the face of men and women who had never deserved such hatred. I was lucky in that I was paired with one particularly skilled Lieutenant from the province of Kerala. Arvinder King was his name. A man of excellent fancy, as proper an Indian as a British man could ever hope to be - patient and of wise counsel, obviously well-versed in the particulars of those increasingly Eldritch foes we were both routinely sent to dispatch. Whenever I grew disgusted with my English comrades and saw the war with India only as a means to revel in my homeland's worst tendencies, he would find the exact words to cheer me up - remind me that gentlemen come from all corners of the world, and that our encountering sad examples of Humanity's lows is an unavoidable part of existence in this plane."
He smiled slightly. "I went in the field, and I had my spotter and sniper as backup... Whenever Arvinder was the one who lost patience, I would remind him of all that I wished to show him, at the time. The family estate, our gardens, the way in which we shared so many goals and aspirations would have made him a perfect fit for Holden Hall.
- Then why is he not with you?"
Archie sighed. "We parted ways after the Raj - in amicable terms, but in the understanding that our paths were no longer meant to cross. After Kerala, I needed a change of scenery and he had a province to help rebuild and purge from the remaining Thuggee. I suppose he was tasked with his own bit of spy work, as I soon lost track of him. No more letters, no more telegrams... Workplace hazards, in a sense. His loss does sadden me, but he would have wanted me to keep pushing forward. Not strictly for Kerala, I believe, for he would have loved our band of rogues."
Three nodded from the sectionals. "Then came Anjali, right?
- Her rebirth, yes," replied Holden, canting his head in allowance. "Which brings me back to your particular state, Your Grace," he said, looking back to Paimon. "I needed to adopt this charming little girl and to lean onto my entire crew to so much as recover from Pride's onslaught on my person. I needed Japanese steel and a hoary old Tengu to berate me for even contemplating the idea of blubbering like some shell-shocked grunt."
Archie tapped a finger on the countertop. "You are of Pride, Paimon. Have you ever contemplated the possibility that your previous employer could have seeded you with this precise despair of yours? There is a strange symmetry to your condition, if I may - either you are wallowing in the heights of martial vanity, or you are succumbing to mortal vicissitudes in ways many would find crippling. It feels like some failsafe of the Goat's, to be honest. Sartre's work is theoretical at best, a novel meant as a means to express and lay out the tenets of a philosophical current. Roquentin's sense of Contingency may be soul-crushing, but I've found it underlines one particular freedom of the human condition."
Paimon looked a little more stable now. "Of which freedom do you speak of?" he asked. Archie smiled at that.
"The Universe does not dignify your powers or your existence, that much is true. The Universe dignifies itself, and nothing else. However, that means you are free to give your own life the exact meaning and value you wish to attach to it. The Universe will never reward your being a Duke of Pride, but neither does it check for credentials. Here on Earth, the Duke of Pride can be whoever and whatever he chooses to be. You can channel your old pride in your regiments' efficacy, you absolutely can stress your own accomplishments if it gives you pleasure, and you can be grateful for your new opportunities, here among us."
Holden shrugged. "Or don't be. The choice is entirely yours."
Anjali nodded. "My father's right, you know. Nobody's going to throw a parade for Abdiel, for instance, seeing as people take fire for granted. Nobody cares that the Sun is a giant explosion she's holding in balance - the Sun exists, and that's fine for most people. That means Abbie's free to figure out how much her efforts are worth to herself. I mean, God isn't exactly patting her on the back whenever she takes off to birth a new star."
Paimon looked back to Meris, not looking entirely convinced. Three, satisfied with Herbert's posture for now, headed for the bar. "Video games always work to set you up with a massive sense of pride and responsibility from the get-go," he said. "Video games are little universes where everything you do matters. The real world is too complex to work like that. If Meris had been born knowing that an entire race would depend on her to be freed from trans-dimensional oppressors, I don't think she'd have gotten this far. If I'd known about this place and Najeeban back in high school, I would've been more focused. I would've gone deeper than a GED and I maybe would've ended up following my sister for her internships in dig sites around the world. I'd be in a completely different place. I'd be a different person.
If everything appears meaningless at first, it's to give value to each individual moment, each choice you make."
The penthouse's elevator doors opened on that note, Tom jokingly extending his staff towards Three. "Ghost of Fred Rogers, leave this mortal coil!" he called, Three trying to go for his best impression of the pastor's grandfatherly tone.
"Well, at least I'm not wearing zip-up sweaters to battle Pitspawn."
* * *
"I know," sighed Arkham who returned to his desk. "It's still unfortunate."
He didn't let that note linger for too long, however, and rested his fingertips on his desk. "So - let's switch over to something a tad more constructive, and see how I could help mister David - and the both of you, of course."
Ajax went and sat in the middle seat across from Arkham's desk, and recounted the backstory Martin and Aspasia had rehearsed. The disguised Void Weaver seemed attentive, and didn't betray suspicion or anything you'd consider as being otherwise negative. In the end, he smacked his lips together thoughtfully. Coach saw it as an analogue to Bertram's tentacle-puffing tic, or a representation of it adapted to the Flesh Mask.
"Well," sighed Arkham, "I have to say that's typical of the Buck brothers. Try as I might, they only really seem to have their legacy on the brain, and it leads to a few unfortunate business decisions. We're nearing January, I never would've signed that canning deal with Bumble Bee this late in the season, if I'd been in charge. I understand your predicament, mister David, but it might make my searching for a bigger hauler a bit of a difficult task. The coasts are going to ice over within at least a month, although Hope's recent troubles have been linked to increased geothermal activity off the coast... Global warming is as much the fisherman's friend as it's his worst enemy. You might be able to squeeze in a few weeks of work before lining up for seasonal unemployment. That alone makes the Robertsons' offer to credit you a bit of a godsend."
Ajax nodded. "I need more storage, and maybe a crane for some of my bigger nets."
Arkham began to take notes, and Coach took this opportunity to slip himself in. "You also do regular accounting work for the Bucks, right?
- It'd almost be more accurate to say I did," replied the burly man. "They're at the point where I referred them to an H&R Block office for their yearly tax reports, told them it'd be cheaper than keeping up with appearances and retaining the services of a corporate accountant. The Buck name isn't a franchise or an enterprise anymore - it's a desiccated corpse."
Harrison looked back to Silas. "I mostly just stop by and try and shake Zebediah loose once every month. It used to be Holden Hall had added a bit of extra motivation to his workload, now the recent crisis pushed him right back down where we usually pick him up after each Halloween. He's fruitlessly refocused on his wife's ghost, and there isn't a single spiritualist in town that's managed to do something about her. As for Eliphas, whatever it was this Magnus fellow did to him isn't helping. I can't broach any topic to him without him either turning to his weird ventriloquist-worthy speaking act in a werewolf's throat to lob spite in my general direction, or just growling at me. The rest of the family's left for everything from here to Miami or Hoboken, and they're all determined to let the last two in the Dutch line of the family just... lose it.
It's over for the Bucks. The city's got other big names, now, anyways: Archie Holden, Aislinn McConmara, Aidan Drake - the two of you..."
Archie sat across from Meris, his girl hopping onto his lap with a little assistance. "If I might, Your Grace, I would recount to you the means in which hope was restored to me in the past. From soldier to soldier, it might allow you to better understand how we mortals overcome what does indeed seem insurmountable at times."
The slightly-simian face nodded slightly, again trying and failing to go back to his old self-centered nature. "I'll allow it," he said, voice hoarse and ending in a sniffle.
"I served in the British Army at the height of the Colonial Era. How did we know Pride, dear fellow - only demons such as yourself could understand. With the British Raj in place, all of India virtually fell in lockstep with Great Britain. Rebellions were frequent, many sought aid from dark powers they scarcely understood, in order to repel the Caucasian invader. Many among my colleagues were avowed and proud racists, but all I could see was... barbarism. Crudeness unworthy of any proper English gentleman, factory boys from Birmingham and Leeds spewing their ignorance in the face of men and women who had never deserved such hatred. I was lucky in that I was paired with one particularly skilled Lieutenant from the province of Kerala. Arvinder King was his name. A man of excellent fancy, as proper an Indian as a British man could ever hope to be - patient and of wise counsel, obviously well-versed in the particulars of those increasingly Eldritch foes we were both routinely sent to dispatch. Whenever I grew disgusted with my English comrades and saw the war with India only as a means to revel in my homeland's worst tendencies, he would find the exact words to cheer me up - remind me that gentlemen come from all corners of the world, and that our encountering sad examples of Humanity's lows is an unavoidable part of existence in this plane."
He smiled slightly. "I went in the field, and I had my spotter and sniper as backup... Whenever Arvinder was the one who lost patience, I would remind him of all that I wished to show him, at the time. The family estate, our gardens, the way in which we shared so many goals and aspirations would have made him a perfect fit for Holden Hall.
- Then why is he not with you?"
Archie sighed. "We parted ways after the Raj - in amicable terms, but in the understanding that our paths were no longer meant to cross. After Kerala, I needed a change of scenery and he had a province to help rebuild and purge from the remaining Thuggee. I suppose he was tasked with his own bit of spy work, as I soon lost track of him. No more letters, no more telegrams... Workplace hazards, in a sense. His loss does sadden me, but he would have wanted me to keep pushing forward. Not strictly for Kerala, I believe, for he would have loved our band of rogues."
Three nodded from the sectionals. "Then came Anjali, right?
- Her rebirth, yes," replied Holden, canting his head in allowance. "Which brings me back to your particular state, Your Grace," he said, looking back to Paimon. "I needed to adopt this charming little girl and to lean onto my entire crew to so much as recover from Pride's onslaught on my person. I needed Japanese steel and a hoary old Tengu to berate me for even contemplating the idea of blubbering like some shell-shocked grunt."
Archie tapped a finger on the countertop. "You are of Pride, Paimon. Have you ever contemplated the possibility that your previous employer could have seeded you with this precise despair of yours? There is a strange symmetry to your condition, if I may - either you are wallowing in the heights of martial vanity, or you are succumbing to mortal vicissitudes in ways many would find crippling. It feels like some failsafe of the Goat's, to be honest. Sartre's work is theoretical at best, a novel meant as a means to express and lay out the tenets of a philosophical current. Roquentin's sense of Contingency may be soul-crushing, but I've found it underlines one particular freedom of the human condition."
Paimon looked a little more stable now. "Of which freedom do you speak of?" he asked. Archie smiled at that.
"The Universe does not dignify your powers or your existence, that much is true. The Universe dignifies itself, and nothing else. However, that means you are free to give your own life the exact meaning and value you wish to attach to it. The Universe will never reward your being a Duke of Pride, but neither does it check for credentials. Here on Earth, the Duke of Pride can be whoever and whatever he chooses to be. You can channel your old pride in your regiments' efficacy, you absolutely can stress your own accomplishments if it gives you pleasure, and you can be grateful for your new opportunities, here among us."
Holden shrugged. "Or don't be. The choice is entirely yours."
Anjali nodded. "My father's right, you know. Nobody's going to throw a parade for Abdiel, for instance, seeing as people take fire for granted. Nobody cares that the Sun is a giant explosion she's holding in balance - the Sun exists, and that's fine for most people. That means Abbie's free to figure out how much her efforts are worth to herself. I mean, God isn't exactly patting her on the back whenever she takes off to birth a new star."
Paimon looked back to Meris, not looking entirely convinced. Three, satisfied with Herbert's posture for now, headed for the bar. "Video games always work to set you up with a massive sense of pride and responsibility from the get-go," he said. "Video games are little universes where everything you do matters. The real world is too complex to work like that. If Meris had been born knowing that an entire race would depend on her to be freed from trans-dimensional oppressors, I don't think she'd have gotten this far. If I'd known about this place and Najeeban back in high school, I would've been more focused. I would've gone deeper than a GED and I maybe would've ended up following my sister for her internships in dig sites around the world. I'd be in a completely different place. I'd be a different person.
If everything appears meaningless at first, it's to give value to each individual moment, each choice you make."
The penthouse's elevator doors opened on that note, Tom jokingly extending his staff towards Three. "Ghost of Fred Rogers, leave this mortal coil!" he called, Three trying to go for his best impression of the pastor's grandfatherly tone.
"Well, at least I'm not wearing zip-up sweaters to battle Pitspawn."
* * *
"I know," sighed Arkham who returned to his desk. "It's still unfortunate."
He didn't let that note linger for too long, however, and rested his fingertips on his desk. "So - let's switch over to something a tad more constructive, and see how I could help mister David - and the both of you, of course."
Ajax went and sat in the middle seat across from Arkham's desk, and recounted the backstory Martin and Aspasia had rehearsed. The disguised Void Weaver seemed attentive, and didn't betray suspicion or anything you'd consider as being otherwise negative. In the end, he smacked his lips together thoughtfully. Coach saw it as an analogue to Bertram's tentacle-puffing tic, or a representation of it adapted to the Flesh Mask.
"Well," sighed Arkham, "I have to say that's typical of the Buck brothers. Try as I might, they only really seem to have their legacy on the brain, and it leads to a few unfortunate business decisions. We're nearing January, I never would've signed that canning deal with Bumble Bee this late in the season, if I'd been in charge. I understand your predicament, mister David, but it might make my searching for a bigger hauler a bit of a difficult task. The coasts are going to ice over within at least a month, although Hope's recent troubles have been linked to increased geothermal activity off the coast... Global warming is as much the fisherman's friend as it's his worst enemy. You might be able to squeeze in a few weeks of work before lining up for seasonal unemployment. That alone makes the Robertsons' offer to credit you a bit of a godsend."
Ajax nodded. "I need more storage, and maybe a crane for some of my bigger nets."
Arkham began to take notes, and Coach took this opportunity to slip himself in. "You also do regular accounting work for the Bucks, right?
- It'd almost be more accurate to say I did," replied the burly man. "They're at the point where I referred them to an H&R Block office for their yearly tax reports, told them it'd be cheaper than keeping up with appearances and retaining the services of a corporate accountant. The Buck name isn't a franchise or an enterprise anymore - it's a desiccated corpse."
Harrison looked back to Silas. "I mostly just stop by and try and shake Zebediah loose once every month. It used to be Holden Hall had added a bit of extra motivation to his workload, now the recent crisis pushed him right back down where we usually pick him up after each Halloween. He's fruitlessly refocused on his wife's ghost, and there isn't a single spiritualist in town that's managed to do something about her. As for Eliphas, whatever it was this Magnus fellow did to him isn't helping. I can't broach any topic to him without him either turning to his weird ventriloquist-worthy speaking act in a werewolf's throat to lob spite in my general direction, or just growling at me. The rest of the family's left for everything from here to Miami or Hoboken, and they're all determined to let the last two in the Dutch line of the family just... lose it.
It's over for the Bucks. The city's got other big names, now, anyways: Archie Holden, Aislinn McConmara, Aidan Drake - the two of you..."
-
TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
Meris scoffed at Three's quip and then gazed at Paimon with more of a contemplative expression, marked by just the slightest of lingering sadness. "My escape from Dalarath was certainly one of the most trying times of my life. It had been a couple days after I had given birth of my second son, and I was resting after my C-section and wasn't able to be with my son for very long as he had to go to one of maturation pools to finish growing to his full size. I awoke to a band of Arbiters and guards entering the chambers I shared with Nereus and hauling me to a cell with no explanation whatsoever. I was then later brought before Nereus, the Chamberlain, and my already-possessed son to be read the charges of the crimes I was guilty of. "
"Long story made short, I was left feeling like Nereus and my own son had really betrayed me. I was returned to my cell and managed to escape because there happened to be a rather weak guard I could overpower, due to Nereus' intervention. By that time, all of our plans to free Darlarath had gone to ruin, and I had to find my out of there through a brine pit that opened up to the Atlantic Ocean. After a near day of trying to elude and swim, I was exhausted and at my wit's end, thinking the person I had come to care about had betrayed me and wanted me dead. The real challenge came after I had been rescued by Matriel and Hanako, when I had to reconnect with my abilities as a cantor."
"I was essentially starting back at square one, finding the reasons and methods of how to will via into my voice and words. I had lost all confidence in myself and my control over the situation, since I couldn't even protect my own son. I was at rock bottom. While Matriel clarified the events as to what had actually transpired, I was starting on a new journey from what I had ever known. I had to become knowledgeable that I could accomplish my tasks and goals as a capable arcane practitioner. I had Matriel and Hanako around to listen to my frustrations, which I was immensely grateful for."
"Time passed, and I found that I had pulled myself from the depressed state that I had fallen into. I was able to go on and combat the Loyalists, usually either by myself or with comrades like Samigina."
"Sartre's arguments on meaninglessness have their points, but it is active experience that wholly saves us from drowning in despair and ennui. Along the way, it becomes necessary to depend on others for support, much as I'm sure you've had to do with your own men. You're of Pride, not Sloth, and it is through your stubborn perseverance that you've made it this far. Be proud of that and know that you can accomplish more. Also, accept the fact that there won't always be times you can finish a mission by yourself; that is why we're here by your side. Amaxi and the Others will not be defeated by an individual, but rather by a diverse group. Hopelessness is one of Their strongest tools in Their arsenal. We saw how it had nearly pulled Nereus over the brink, but we thankfully reached him before it could be done. Do not surrender; fight! Let Them know why every living being continues to exist despite Their loathing of and plotting against us!"
"Damn, I'd hope not," Aislinn acknowledged heartily, stepping onto the floor with Tom.
She had heard about half of the Archmage's story and then ventured over to Paimon. "I know the mortal plane's been a significant adjustment, and you're allowed to have your down moments just like the rest of us, but you need to remember why you left the Goat's side in the first place, Pai. We gotta deal wtih him first, and then focus on the primordial assholes knocking at the back door. Focus on one enemy at a time and then kick their asses, okay?"
***
"Perhaps so, but I see them as the types to not really be done for unless they give up completely, especially Eliphas. He may have become more lupine in demeanor and appearance, but he's truly stubborn when it comes to surviving, and he'll pull his brother along for the ride," Aspasia observed.
"They'll still have their part to play, but thanks for considering us to be part of the Big Name Party; Coach and I tend to keep to our restaurant most of the time. Right now, though, I'm just trying to help out a friend and possibly do more for others in similar situations in the future. Neither of us really care to be in the limelight; let the other Big Names fulfill those roles."
"Long story made short, I was left feeling like Nereus and my own son had really betrayed me. I was returned to my cell and managed to escape because there happened to be a rather weak guard I could overpower, due to Nereus' intervention. By that time, all of our plans to free Darlarath had gone to ruin, and I had to find my out of there through a brine pit that opened up to the Atlantic Ocean. After a near day of trying to elude and swim, I was exhausted and at my wit's end, thinking the person I had come to care about had betrayed me and wanted me dead. The real challenge came after I had been rescued by Matriel and Hanako, when I had to reconnect with my abilities as a cantor."
"I was essentially starting back at square one, finding the reasons and methods of how to will via into my voice and words. I had lost all confidence in myself and my control over the situation, since I couldn't even protect my own son. I was at rock bottom. While Matriel clarified the events as to what had actually transpired, I was starting on a new journey from what I had ever known. I had to become knowledgeable that I could accomplish my tasks and goals as a capable arcane practitioner. I had Matriel and Hanako around to listen to my frustrations, which I was immensely grateful for."
"Time passed, and I found that I had pulled myself from the depressed state that I had fallen into. I was able to go on and combat the Loyalists, usually either by myself or with comrades like Samigina."
"Sartre's arguments on meaninglessness have their points, but it is active experience that wholly saves us from drowning in despair and ennui. Along the way, it becomes necessary to depend on others for support, much as I'm sure you've had to do with your own men. You're of Pride, not Sloth, and it is through your stubborn perseverance that you've made it this far. Be proud of that and know that you can accomplish more. Also, accept the fact that there won't always be times you can finish a mission by yourself; that is why we're here by your side. Amaxi and the Others will not be defeated by an individual, but rather by a diverse group. Hopelessness is one of Their strongest tools in Their arsenal. We saw how it had nearly pulled Nereus over the brink, but we thankfully reached him before it could be done. Do not surrender; fight! Let Them know why every living being continues to exist despite Their loathing of and plotting against us!"
"Damn, I'd hope not," Aislinn acknowledged heartily, stepping onto the floor with Tom.
She had heard about half of the Archmage's story and then ventured over to Paimon. "I know the mortal plane's been a significant adjustment, and you're allowed to have your down moments just like the rest of us, but you need to remember why you left the Goat's side in the first place, Pai. We gotta deal wtih him first, and then focus on the primordial assholes knocking at the back door. Focus on one enemy at a time and then kick their asses, okay?"
***
"Perhaps so, but I see them as the types to not really be done for unless they give up completely, especially Eliphas. He may have become more lupine in demeanor and appearance, but he's truly stubborn when it comes to surviving, and he'll pull his brother along for the ride," Aspasia observed.
"They'll still have their part to play, but thanks for considering us to be part of the Big Name Party; Coach and I tend to keep to our restaurant most of the time. Right now, though, I'm just trying to help out a friend and possibly do more for others in similar situations in the future. Neither of us really care to be in the limelight; let the other Big Names fulfill those roles."
-
IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
"So my pride still has worth, then," deduced Paimon. "Amidst all your rules, your tenets, your building blocks - all of your mortal shackles - my pride still matters. That is what you are saying," synthesized Paimon, who then smirked bitterly.
He scoffed. "I do not sense it. All I have sensed is the need for moderation, that enemy of Pride. I thought countering hubris with tactical wherewithal would suffice, but this world always and forever demands more. I used to be able to walk through a throng of my soldiers without a single thought to them, now I find myself in a realm where our Pride, our Vanity, has turned to crippling concern!"
Three's features turned hard. "Would your soldiers have survived Thermopylae, then? Pack three hundred of your Knights and tell them they're the last line of defense between us and the enemy. Would they hold their ground, or would Pride push some among them to run back home? If you're that prideful, then there's shame in admitting defeat. Shame in being defeated, period. It means you're done for. Crippled. Spent. You run back, spin some sob story about a narrow, valorous escape that won't hold water at first glance. You and I both know you're not like that. You wouldn't be here if you were."
He pressed on. "The Goat made you so you would give your assignments every ounce of strength and valor you have - or die trying. He made you so you'd toss your legions at our doors instead of rethinking your approach. He made you a grunt, Paimon, but you're not a grunt. You're a commander - grunts whine about books they've picked up in the camp's library and let existential bullshit get in the way of what they need to do! Commanders lead civilizations, they chart courses through hardships and they're remembered in song. What's it going to be, Paimon? Are you going to give a workout to Norway's Draugr vampires and their Barrow Choirs singing about their honor as undead Vikings? Are you going to top those measly corporeal vampires, or are you going to be remembered as the guy who couldn't get up after the hard facts of mortal existence shoved you down for a couple hours?"
Paimon groused, his inner furnace growing in strength. "Do not test me, mortal...
- Good, then it's sinking in!" seethed Three, who pressed in closer. "You're the Fucking Duke of Fucking Pride, and mortal life should be a cakewalk to you. You should be giving charisma lessons to Tom or showing us how those big mitts of yours can work day planners and guest lists. You should have a fucking switch on your back, set between Scary Horned Monkey and One-Man Apocalypse - and I haven't seen shit. All I've seen so far is soap operas and Volker being stuck showing you how to work the Pay-per-View channels. I'm a fucking mortal, less than an anthro or a supe - a plain-jane human with weird alien shit grafted to his brain - and you're embarrassing me."
Three had his face almost directly against Paimon's, now. "You're embarrassing me, soldier, and you're pissing off an Archmage and a lawyer-turned Eidolon of Fucking Supernatural Judgment. I still haven't seen why we need you."
Paimon's power more or less erupted from his mouth and eyes, the ward-work and the Knight's lack of directed focus keeping the magma-like discharges strangely cool. The Knight's glowing orange spittle didn't so much as leave a trace as it slid off of Three's skin and splashed around, settling into a quivering and thick puddle on the floor - as if everything had been coated with hydrophobic material.
"GIVE ME AN ENEMY, DRAKE, AND YOU SHALL SEE!" roared the Knight of Pride. "YOUR MORTAL FOIBLES ARE NO WORTHY FOE, NO BEING FOR ME TO CLEAVE! I AM FIGHTING NOTHINGNESS ITSELF!"
It took everything Drake had to avoid flinching, but he did manage it. "LIKE THE REST OF US, JACKASS!" he screamed back, like a drill sergeant berating a recruit. "PUSH PAST 'EM, YOUR FUCKIN' GRACE, AND MAYBE I'LL BELIEVE YOU WHEN YOU TELL ME I NEED YOU!"
Paimon roared formlessly, having since stood up. He had enough space to unfurl his wings, and did precisely that. He looked a bit like a suit-clad Balrog, less motivated by dark forces and more by sheer indignation. Three smiled madly at that. "RIDE THAT!" he screamed back. "TAKE THAT ATTITUDE INTO EVERYTHING YOU DO! SHOW ME HOW YOU MATTER, PAIMON, AND YOU'LL KICK DESPAIR IN THE BALLS! YOU WANT VICTORY, SOLDIER?!"
Paimon's maw was a glowing pit. "YES!"
Three didn't shout, this time around. "Then I'll drag you to it, Paimon - no matter how much the wrong kind of Pride is keeping you away from it. Lesson one: I'm proud of you for wanting to work past your failings. Lesson two is-"
He was interrupted by a groan. "Lucifer Below - my ears! Lesson Two should involve matters of supernatural representation," Wormsworth said, "as I do believe I was assaulted in my own car! Unfortunately for me, having cut ties with the Goat, I have no-one to lease power from..."
Herbert grimaced and walked past Paimon. "The Commander - how quaint. I see this group delights in surrounding itself with the least our common enemy's sycophants and toadies... I really should hex you all for waking me up to all that ruckus and for introducing me to sleep in such a manner - I don't do guilt, as I've told you. Again, delightfully powerless at present..."
He took a seat at the bar and rolled his eyes at Abdiel's sight, along with a wrist and a finger. "Oh, joy - a Throne. Insert the requisite fearful or spite-laden comment here, one or two repartee exchanges and a bit of a verbal joust - I don't care. I'll have a finger of your least-rancid Johnnie Walker, if you can work that up, with one pump of tonic water and two ice cubes, thank you very much..."
The attorney made another face. "I should be glad, in a sense. All that yelling stopped my subconscious from entering what felt like the second half of my unsolicited re-evaluation..."
* * *
Arkham nodded. "Again - that's truly commendable. I can work with your provided backing; what I can't do is wave a hand and give Ajax an upgrade. Thankfully, the process for a fishing boat for the size I've got in mind comes with less checks and balances than yachts or cargos. My usual shipwright has offices in Anaheim; they've got experience working for every type of boat the local fauna requires. Warm weather means they work mostly around the clock, minus nights and weekends, obviously."
He then quirked an eyebrow. "That said, to close Buck's matter - I'm just surprised nobody's brought in the local sapient werewolf in a more active capacity. Business acumen in a body built for tearing opponents apart by hand? I'd keep that close, if I were Shield. Closer still than Hope's first-oldest lich by a few minutes."
He scoffed. "I do not sense it. All I have sensed is the need for moderation, that enemy of Pride. I thought countering hubris with tactical wherewithal would suffice, but this world always and forever demands more. I used to be able to walk through a throng of my soldiers without a single thought to them, now I find myself in a realm where our Pride, our Vanity, has turned to crippling concern!"
Three's features turned hard. "Would your soldiers have survived Thermopylae, then? Pack three hundred of your Knights and tell them they're the last line of defense between us and the enemy. Would they hold their ground, or would Pride push some among them to run back home? If you're that prideful, then there's shame in admitting defeat. Shame in being defeated, period. It means you're done for. Crippled. Spent. You run back, spin some sob story about a narrow, valorous escape that won't hold water at first glance. You and I both know you're not like that. You wouldn't be here if you were."
He pressed on. "The Goat made you so you would give your assignments every ounce of strength and valor you have - or die trying. He made you so you'd toss your legions at our doors instead of rethinking your approach. He made you a grunt, Paimon, but you're not a grunt. You're a commander - grunts whine about books they've picked up in the camp's library and let existential bullshit get in the way of what they need to do! Commanders lead civilizations, they chart courses through hardships and they're remembered in song. What's it going to be, Paimon? Are you going to give a workout to Norway's Draugr vampires and their Barrow Choirs singing about their honor as undead Vikings? Are you going to top those measly corporeal vampires, or are you going to be remembered as the guy who couldn't get up after the hard facts of mortal existence shoved you down for a couple hours?"
Paimon groused, his inner furnace growing in strength. "Do not test me, mortal...
- Good, then it's sinking in!" seethed Three, who pressed in closer. "You're the Fucking Duke of Fucking Pride, and mortal life should be a cakewalk to you. You should be giving charisma lessons to Tom or showing us how those big mitts of yours can work day planners and guest lists. You should have a fucking switch on your back, set between Scary Horned Monkey and One-Man Apocalypse - and I haven't seen shit. All I've seen so far is soap operas and Volker being stuck showing you how to work the Pay-per-View channels. I'm a fucking mortal, less than an anthro or a supe - a plain-jane human with weird alien shit grafted to his brain - and you're embarrassing me."
Three had his face almost directly against Paimon's, now. "You're embarrassing me, soldier, and you're pissing off an Archmage and a lawyer-turned Eidolon of Fucking Supernatural Judgment. I still haven't seen why we need you."
Paimon's power more or less erupted from his mouth and eyes, the ward-work and the Knight's lack of directed focus keeping the magma-like discharges strangely cool. The Knight's glowing orange spittle didn't so much as leave a trace as it slid off of Three's skin and splashed around, settling into a quivering and thick puddle on the floor - as if everything had been coated with hydrophobic material.
"GIVE ME AN ENEMY, DRAKE, AND YOU SHALL SEE!" roared the Knight of Pride. "YOUR MORTAL FOIBLES ARE NO WORTHY FOE, NO BEING FOR ME TO CLEAVE! I AM FIGHTING NOTHINGNESS ITSELF!"
It took everything Drake had to avoid flinching, but he did manage it. "LIKE THE REST OF US, JACKASS!" he screamed back, like a drill sergeant berating a recruit. "PUSH PAST 'EM, YOUR FUCKIN' GRACE, AND MAYBE I'LL BELIEVE YOU WHEN YOU TELL ME I NEED YOU!"
Paimon roared formlessly, having since stood up. He had enough space to unfurl his wings, and did precisely that. He looked a bit like a suit-clad Balrog, less motivated by dark forces and more by sheer indignation. Three smiled madly at that. "RIDE THAT!" he screamed back. "TAKE THAT ATTITUDE INTO EVERYTHING YOU DO! SHOW ME HOW YOU MATTER, PAIMON, AND YOU'LL KICK DESPAIR IN THE BALLS! YOU WANT VICTORY, SOLDIER?!"
Paimon's maw was a glowing pit. "YES!"
Three didn't shout, this time around. "Then I'll drag you to it, Paimon - no matter how much the wrong kind of Pride is keeping you away from it. Lesson one: I'm proud of you for wanting to work past your failings. Lesson two is-"
He was interrupted by a groan. "Lucifer Below - my ears! Lesson Two should involve matters of supernatural representation," Wormsworth said, "as I do believe I was assaulted in my own car! Unfortunately for me, having cut ties with the Goat, I have no-one to lease power from..."
Herbert grimaced and walked past Paimon. "The Commander - how quaint. I see this group delights in surrounding itself with the least our common enemy's sycophants and toadies... I really should hex you all for waking me up to all that ruckus and for introducing me to sleep in such a manner - I don't do guilt, as I've told you. Again, delightfully powerless at present..."
He took a seat at the bar and rolled his eyes at Abdiel's sight, along with a wrist and a finger. "Oh, joy - a Throne. Insert the requisite fearful or spite-laden comment here, one or two repartee exchanges and a bit of a verbal joust - I don't care. I'll have a finger of your least-rancid Johnnie Walker, if you can work that up, with one pump of tonic water and two ice cubes, thank you very much..."
The attorney made another face. "I should be glad, in a sense. All that yelling stopped my subconscious from entering what felt like the second half of my unsolicited re-evaluation..."
* * *
Arkham nodded. "Again - that's truly commendable. I can work with your provided backing; what I can't do is wave a hand and give Ajax an upgrade. Thankfully, the process for a fishing boat for the size I've got in mind comes with less checks and balances than yachts or cargos. My usual shipwright has offices in Anaheim; they've got experience working for every type of boat the local fauna requires. Warm weather means they work mostly around the clock, minus nights and weekends, obviously."
He then quirked an eyebrow. "That said, to close Buck's matter - I'm just surprised nobody's brought in the local sapient werewolf in a more active capacity. Business acumen in a body built for tearing opponents apart by hand? I'd keep that close, if I were Shield. Closer still than Hope's first-oldest lich by a few minutes."
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
It was Abdiel's turn to give him something of a flat gaze at his attitude, but she otherwise went behind the counter to prepare the demon his requested drink. She reached for a spicy blend of Scotch whiskey and poured a small amount into a glass, added the single pump of tonic water, and a couple ice cubes.
"Here you go, Mr. Wormsworth, one suitable drink for waking up from a nap," she said as she pushed the liquor toward him. "Name's Abdiel, by the way. As for power, you might want to eventually consult Melmoth, but you'll need to do something about your attitude before then. He put up with enough haranguing from the Goat; he certainly won't put up with it from you."
Aislinn drifted over to where Herbert had seated himself and sized him up. "I assume you're from Pride as well, then, as you have a somewhat similar feel to Paimon. However, you're snootier than he is," the young Archmage surmised, then looking back to Paimon and then back at him.
"And Abbie's right. Melmoth's one of the renters here, and since she gave him some of her power, improving your egotistic outlook will garner you far more favors than turning your nose up at others. Hi, I'm Aislinn McConmara, co-manager of Club Ishtar. Nice to meet you, sir," the selkie introduced herself, giving him her best shit-eating grin as she offered her hand to him.
***
In response, Aspasia causally arched a pale brow. "That's why I think that neither of their stories are completely over with, but if Shield thinks that asking for Eliphas and Zebediah's help would be beneficial, then maybe they'll take them up on it at some point. However, I think that should be up to them, Mr. Arkham. None of us here, including yourself, have a direct involvement in their lives. Unless you have some pertinent reason to bring the matter up one last time."
"Here you go, Mr. Wormsworth, one suitable drink for waking up from a nap," she said as she pushed the liquor toward him. "Name's Abdiel, by the way. As for power, you might want to eventually consult Melmoth, but you'll need to do something about your attitude before then. He put up with enough haranguing from the Goat; he certainly won't put up with it from you."
Aislinn drifted over to where Herbert had seated himself and sized him up. "I assume you're from Pride as well, then, as you have a somewhat similar feel to Paimon. However, you're snootier than he is," the young Archmage surmised, then looking back to Paimon and then back at him.
"And Abbie's right. Melmoth's one of the renters here, and since she gave him some of her power, improving your egotistic outlook will garner you far more favors than turning your nose up at others. Hi, I'm Aislinn McConmara, co-manager of Club Ishtar. Nice to meet you, sir," the selkie introduced herself, giving him her best shit-eating grin as she offered her hand to him.
***
In response, Aspasia causally arched a pale brow. "That's why I think that neither of their stories are completely over with, but if Shield thinks that asking for Eliphas and Zebediah's help would be beneficial, then maybe they'll take them up on it at some point. However, I think that should be up to them, Mr. Arkham. None of us here, including yourself, have a direct involvement in their lives. Unless you have some pertinent reason to bring the matter up one last time."
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
"My dear, I never harangue anyone," smoothly replied Wormsworth, adding in a nod in thanks for the drink. "I merely state facts in need of being heard."
He then shrugged lightly. "Admittedly, I've never bartered with mortals before. Those angels I transacted with on the Pit's behalf were accustomed to my particular focus; I've come to realize things will be frustratingly different with your friends."
He took a sip and looked back to Aislinn. "My - a snippy one, aren't we? I thought I'd given everyone here the required primer: Pride is my burden, as Lust was mister Magnus'. I, quite literally, can't help it if I seem - what was your word, again? - snooty. If your Warlock beau spent thousands of years needing intent focus to absorb this world of yours without succumbing to its ecstasy, you'll find me a newcomer when it comes to the arcane art of giving others the time of day - through little fault of my own."
Tom didn't seem too surprised and looked back to Aislinn and the others from behind the counter. "The Vices lay their burden on all their servants and progeny. If you're born of Lust, then you're an incubus or a succubus. If you're born of Pride, you're somewhere between Paimon and Herbert here. I needed centuries to so much as want to break free from Asmodeus, and thousands of years more to figure out how. If Herbert's new here, I'd suggest we all temper our expectations. It won't do to just flat-out expect humility from him from the get-go, but we can work with what's already there."
The lawyer shrugged. "Unfortunately, I don't know what it is I might expect. I've dreamed up all the ways in which I think you'd disapprove of me while we were driving here, but I simply can't picture the alternative to what I'm currently experiencing."
Tom considered the newcomer intently, lit himself a cigarette and took a drag. "Aislinn, honey," he then asked, "would you terribly mind if I kissed Herbert? I'm still an incubus, obviously, and I'd like to try and induce something in him. I'd love to do it with a back massage or offhand compliments, but we wouldn't get anywhere fast enough."
Leonard blinked. "I thought your entire schtick was limited to Infernal libido. How does this solve Herbert's Pride problem?"
Tom gestured vaguely, hesitated and then pulled out a small notepad and pen he carried inside his jacket. "Alright," he said. "I'm an incubus; a sort of specialized empath. I used to constantly be aroused and could incite arousal in others."
He drew a quick diagram, his name connected to a circle called Wormsworth's Psyche by a line. The circle was also connected to a box titled Standard Self-Esteem Expectations.
"Carnal arousal is only one form of pleasure. Over time, I learned to sate the urge over conversations, good food, shared social events - that route. Pride demons have a similar deficit, they haven't figured out how to compensate for the lack of usual ego-stroking they're used to. I can't hack this apart and fix Wormsworth in a single sitting, but I can at least introduce his brain to the opposite aspect of what it is his forced nap showed him."
He looked back to Anton and Three. "As much as I respect you two, you can't expect this man to change overnight, much less after exposing him to trauma he isn't sure he so much as deserves. Punitive treatments don't fix demons; they merely drive them out. We don't want that, so much as we want Herbert to get used to the proverbial dangling carrot."
He raised a finger. "And said carrot is friendly consideration. When people trust you, they take notice when you speak. They thank you for your input or for services rendered. It doesn't mean you have to stop feeling like the counsel for supernatural elites you were probably bred to be; all it means is that you have to lower your guard just enough for people to want to repeat the experience of meeting you."
Magnus then looked back at Herbert. "And that, my impeccably-groomed friend, is what you need a primer for. That specific kind of pride - the sense that other people like you."
Wormsworth smiled at that, his tail swishing in a contented feline manner. "I like that fellow," he said, pointing him with his glass. "Here's at least one person who knows how to address me."
From the back, Raguel sniffed. "Or, y'know, I could just call up Gabe and ask for an Angel Time exemption. Instead of your sucking face with a guy you barely know, Tom, we could look for the one timeline where things click, Herbie here grows a sense of empathy and his much-fuckin'-vaunted career takes off on Earth like it did in the Pit. If he sees it's possible, maybe he won't so much need all that jiggery-pokery. I'd normally be against it, but we're short on time."
* * *
The broker shrugged. "Call it personal concern - I've worked with them for years and while I don't condone what they're doing, I do care for them."
Coach shrugged. "Well, I can't shake Zeb loose on my lonesome, Arkham. Maybe if we end up righting things for one or two fishermen, the rest of the union's going to notice. If they do, maybe the Bucks might. There's times where no matter how much via or martial training you've got, you still end up having to take to things one step at a time. Ajax here's the first one."
Arkham seemed to agree with this, his tight smile broadening slightly. "It's the simple things, absolutely. The best laid plans are made up of tiny, intricate gestures. In mister David's case, it starts with the measure of your investment, mister Robertson," he said, turning back to his computer. "How much are you looking to toss in?"
Silas didn't have to fake ignorance there, he gave Aspasia a shrug. "I'm a coach guard-turned-wizard and a small-town chef. I don't speak Fishing Boat."
Arkham laughed easily at that and turned his attention to Aspasia. "Alright, miss Robertson - how much would you like to cover for Ajax? Decent side trawlers can run anywhere between a hundred and fifty to a hundred seventy-five thousand dollars, with extra for a hauler. Give or take, you're looking at something around two hundred thousand."
He then shrugged lightly. "Admittedly, I've never bartered with mortals before. Those angels I transacted with on the Pit's behalf were accustomed to my particular focus; I've come to realize things will be frustratingly different with your friends."
He took a sip and looked back to Aislinn. "My - a snippy one, aren't we? I thought I'd given everyone here the required primer: Pride is my burden, as Lust was mister Magnus'. I, quite literally, can't help it if I seem - what was your word, again? - snooty. If your Warlock beau spent thousands of years needing intent focus to absorb this world of yours without succumbing to its ecstasy, you'll find me a newcomer when it comes to the arcane art of giving others the time of day - through little fault of my own."
Tom didn't seem too surprised and looked back to Aislinn and the others from behind the counter. "The Vices lay their burden on all their servants and progeny. If you're born of Lust, then you're an incubus or a succubus. If you're born of Pride, you're somewhere between Paimon and Herbert here. I needed centuries to so much as want to break free from Asmodeus, and thousands of years more to figure out how. If Herbert's new here, I'd suggest we all temper our expectations. It won't do to just flat-out expect humility from him from the get-go, but we can work with what's already there."
The lawyer shrugged. "Unfortunately, I don't know what it is I might expect. I've dreamed up all the ways in which I think you'd disapprove of me while we were driving here, but I simply can't picture the alternative to what I'm currently experiencing."
Tom considered the newcomer intently, lit himself a cigarette and took a drag. "Aislinn, honey," he then asked, "would you terribly mind if I kissed Herbert? I'm still an incubus, obviously, and I'd like to try and induce something in him. I'd love to do it with a back massage or offhand compliments, but we wouldn't get anywhere fast enough."
Leonard blinked. "I thought your entire schtick was limited to Infernal libido. How does this solve Herbert's Pride problem?"
Tom gestured vaguely, hesitated and then pulled out a small notepad and pen he carried inside his jacket. "Alright," he said. "I'm an incubus; a sort of specialized empath. I used to constantly be aroused and could incite arousal in others."
He drew a quick diagram, his name connected to a circle called Wormsworth's Psyche by a line. The circle was also connected to a box titled Standard Self-Esteem Expectations.
"Carnal arousal is only one form of pleasure. Over time, I learned to sate the urge over conversations, good food, shared social events - that route. Pride demons have a similar deficit, they haven't figured out how to compensate for the lack of usual ego-stroking they're used to. I can't hack this apart and fix Wormsworth in a single sitting, but I can at least introduce his brain to the opposite aspect of what it is his forced nap showed him."
He looked back to Anton and Three. "As much as I respect you two, you can't expect this man to change overnight, much less after exposing him to trauma he isn't sure he so much as deserves. Punitive treatments don't fix demons; they merely drive them out. We don't want that, so much as we want Herbert to get used to the proverbial dangling carrot."
He raised a finger. "And said carrot is friendly consideration. When people trust you, they take notice when you speak. They thank you for your input or for services rendered. It doesn't mean you have to stop feeling like the counsel for supernatural elites you were probably bred to be; all it means is that you have to lower your guard just enough for people to want to repeat the experience of meeting you."
Magnus then looked back at Herbert. "And that, my impeccably-groomed friend, is what you need a primer for. That specific kind of pride - the sense that other people like you."
Wormsworth smiled at that, his tail swishing in a contented feline manner. "I like that fellow," he said, pointing him with his glass. "Here's at least one person who knows how to address me."
From the back, Raguel sniffed. "Or, y'know, I could just call up Gabe and ask for an Angel Time exemption. Instead of your sucking face with a guy you barely know, Tom, we could look for the one timeline where things click, Herbie here grows a sense of empathy and his much-fuckin'-vaunted career takes off on Earth like it did in the Pit. If he sees it's possible, maybe he won't so much need all that jiggery-pokery. I'd normally be against it, but we're short on time."
* * *
The broker shrugged. "Call it personal concern - I've worked with them for years and while I don't condone what they're doing, I do care for them."
Coach shrugged. "Well, I can't shake Zeb loose on my lonesome, Arkham. Maybe if we end up righting things for one or two fishermen, the rest of the union's going to notice. If they do, maybe the Bucks might. There's times where no matter how much via or martial training you've got, you still end up having to take to things one step at a time. Ajax here's the first one."
Arkham seemed to agree with this, his tight smile broadening slightly. "It's the simple things, absolutely. The best laid plans are made up of tiny, intricate gestures. In mister David's case, it starts with the measure of your investment, mister Robertson," he said, turning back to his computer. "How much are you looking to toss in?"
Silas didn't have to fake ignorance there, he gave Aspasia a shrug. "I'm a coach guard-turned-wizard and a small-town chef. I don't speak Fishing Boat."
Arkham laughed easily at that and turned his attention to Aspasia. "Alright, miss Robertson - how much would you like to cover for Ajax? Decent side trawlers can run anywhere between a hundred and fifty to a hundred seventy-five thousand dollars, with extra for a hauler. Give or take, you're looking at something around two hundred thousand."
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
Aislinn shrugged. "You can kiss him if you feel it would help; I certainly have no reason to be jealous after what we've been through. However, Raguel's right. We don't have a lot of time, and I think we need to go with the plan that will have the most oomph," she noted.
***
"I believe $165,000 would be a good starting point," Aspasia replied, then looking to Ajax and Coach. "Do you think that's a reasonable amount? Could that amount put you in a steady enough financial position, or would you need more?" she asked the faux faun.
***
"I believe $165,000 would be a good starting point," Aspasia replied, then looking to Ajax and Coach. "Do you think that's a reasonable amount? Could that amount put you in a steady enough financial position, or would you need more?" she asked the faux faun.
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
"Alright," said Raguel. "I put the call through while we were speaking; Gabriel's already pinged me. I've got exactly one shot of Angel Time to spend on a chronically self-satisfied dude, plus a few plus-ones. Any takers?"
Three raised a hand. "What's Angel Time, anyway?"
Raguel grimaced at that. "Shit - I'm no quantum physicist, but it's kinda close to how Void Weavers can see atomic bonds. The difference is we see variance and chance at the quantum level. We see how the things that make you you are sorta tangled together so you stick together; but we can also dial back and look at all the other positions your quantum particles could've taken. Then, once we've picked out the one setting that corresponds to the past, present or future event we want to look at, we move ourselves there."
He gestured vaguely. "Angels are basically extra-universal beings, we're rooted outside of it so we can see and move inside of it freely - that's the gist of it. Demons, in comparison, are rooted to Hell's own pocket dimension and can't easily overlook time like we can. They can choose to not manifest on Earth for centuries and skip past the boring parts, or they can live sequentially through time, like you do."
Cuthbert smirked knowingly. "I used to think Amaxi's polyphasic nature was anathema to God, until Hesediel counselled me in a time of doubt. He showed me a few arcs of the life as a family man I once longed to take, and how I'd never know true contentment again if I hung my sword and cloak. It wasn't the Throne being sanctimonious; he just knew me well enough to know I have difficulty maintaining a sense of self-worth outside of the Order's pursuits. God and His servitors are every bit as Eldritch as those we fight against, but they use their gifts to safeguard our reality, instead of seeking to corrupt it."
"Well, you find me delighted," snarked Wormsworth. "Still, I did entertain some idle curiosity concerning your sight, Cherub," he said, looking back to Raguel. "It'll be nice to finally have a sense of what you see in others; maybe it'll help me understand why I couldn't shake the notion that some of you only owed their not Falling to your being excellent liars…
- Who would that be?" asked Leonard, which left Herbert to shrug. "Well, barring Lucifer himself, whom I haven't had the pleasure of meeting, Uriel smacks of dishonesty. The innocent kind, to boot - where you honestly start to believe your own lies and despair at the sight of truth, thinking it to be a falsehood."
The lawyer munched on a few peanuts. "With Gabriel, you at least have a sense that the man understands you apes. It lent credibility to my parleys with him, and generally allowed us to keep things civil and productive. That is, until the Goat requested I broker an armistice between Heaven and Hell on the promise that with the Abominations dead and disposed of, Earth would be restituted to Mortalkind…"
He shivered in disgust. "Boldfaced lies - the mark of uncreative spirits and of a gauche misunderstanding of politics."
* * *
Loren's assumed alias went for a look of brief dismay. "Aspasia, I - I'm already ashamed to have to come up to you with a request like this, I-"
For a Karthian, he managed the act of looking like someone who was trampling on their principles fairly well. "I won't let you go over five thousand.
- Come on, Ajax," replied Coach, "we're not talking about flipping a condo, here! It's free money, no strings attached! I'm not letting you take out a second mortgage to cover this, so just shut up and take the cash!" he admonished, grinning.
The false Blue Chimera sighed and gestured back to Aspasia. "Remember the old station days? Unit strength was one thing, being stuck mooching off of someone else was something else entirely! I'm not saying Rendell was right, but he did have a point. Don't I have my pride? Don't I get a say in this?"
Arkham held up his hands in a placating gesture. "At this point in time, mister David, I can only charge you for consulting fees. If you do want us to go ahead on this, I'll send you a complete bill along with six months' worth of candidate files. If all you needed was to clear the air and at least get a sense of the procedure involved, we can stop at browsing for constructors together. I'm not in the habit of pushing clients forward."
Three raised a hand. "What's Angel Time, anyway?"
Raguel grimaced at that. "Shit - I'm no quantum physicist, but it's kinda close to how Void Weavers can see atomic bonds. The difference is we see variance and chance at the quantum level. We see how the things that make you you are sorta tangled together so you stick together; but we can also dial back and look at all the other positions your quantum particles could've taken. Then, once we've picked out the one setting that corresponds to the past, present or future event we want to look at, we move ourselves there."
He gestured vaguely. "Angels are basically extra-universal beings, we're rooted outside of it so we can see and move inside of it freely - that's the gist of it. Demons, in comparison, are rooted to Hell's own pocket dimension and can't easily overlook time like we can. They can choose to not manifest on Earth for centuries and skip past the boring parts, or they can live sequentially through time, like you do."
Cuthbert smirked knowingly. "I used to think Amaxi's polyphasic nature was anathema to God, until Hesediel counselled me in a time of doubt. He showed me a few arcs of the life as a family man I once longed to take, and how I'd never know true contentment again if I hung my sword and cloak. It wasn't the Throne being sanctimonious; he just knew me well enough to know I have difficulty maintaining a sense of self-worth outside of the Order's pursuits. God and His servitors are every bit as Eldritch as those we fight against, but they use their gifts to safeguard our reality, instead of seeking to corrupt it."
"Well, you find me delighted," snarked Wormsworth. "Still, I did entertain some idle curiosity concerning your sight, Cherub," he said, looking back to Raguel. "It'll be nice to finally have a sense of what you see in others; maybe it'll help me understand why I couldn't shake the notion that some of you only owed their not Falling to your being excellent liars…
- Who would that be?" asked Leonard, which left Herbert to shrug. "Well, barring Lucifer himself, whom I haven't had the pleasure of meeting, Uriel smacks of dishonesty. The innocent kind, to boot - where you honestly start to believe your own lies and despair at the sight of truth, thinking it to be a falsehood."
The lawyer munched on a few peanuts. "With Gabriel, you at least have a sense that the man understands you apes. It lent credibility to my parleys with him, and generally allowed us to keep things civil and productive. That is, until the Goat requested I broker an armistice between Heaven and Hell on the promise that with the Abominations dead and disposed of, Earth would be restituted to Mortalkind…"
He shivered in disgust. "Boldfaced lies - the mark of uncreative spirits and of a gauche misunderstanding of politics."
* * *
Loren's assumed alias went for a look of brief dismay. "Aspasia, I - I'm already ashamed to have to come up to you with a request like this, I-"
For a Karthian, he managed the act of looking like someone who was trampling on their principles fairly well. "I won't let you go over five thousand.
- Come on, Ajax," replied Coach, "we're not talking about flipping a condo, here! It's free money, no strings attached! I'm not letting you take out a second mortgage to cover this, so just shut up and take the cash!" he admonished, grinning.
The false Blue Chimera sighed and gestured back to Aspasia. "Remember the old station days? Unit strength was one thing, being stuck mooching off of someone else was something else entirely! I'm not saying Rendell was right, but he did have a point. Don't I have my pride? Don't I get a say in this?"
Arkham held up his hands in a placating gesture. "At this point in time, mister David, I can only charge you for consulting fees. If you do want us to go ahead on this, I'll send you a complete bill along with six months' worth of candidate files. If all you needed was to clear the air and at least get a sense of the procedure involved, we can stop at browsing for constructors together. I'm not in the habit of pushing clients forward."
-
TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
Abdiel frowned thoughtfully and observed, "That's what happens when you remain cloistered within your own little bubble. The more you stay insulated from outside forces, the more you only hear your own truths. That is a truth that affects angels, demons, and mortals."
Aislinn spoke up next, "That's one of the reasons Club Ishtar exists. Visitors can mingle and exchange ideas in a neutral atmosphere, expand their minds and all that." At Raguel's invitation, she moved over toward him. "I'll go. I'm curious as to how he might turn out to be, with time."
***
Ajax's rebuttal caused the satyress to frown thoughtfully. "Ajax, you can still have your pride, as we're helping you to get you started toward financial independence. The half-truth that one must remain completely self-sufficient doesn't hold water all the time. Even I had to rely on Coach in the early days. I'm sure that our prehistoric ancestors were dependent on each other to some extent, then roaming wild terrains on their lonesome."
"And as Mr. Arkham stated, he is just going to show you some boats for you to choose from, and I'm sure there's payment plans suitable to what you work with. Everybody here is willing to be flexible, so please stop fretting over it."
Aislinn spoke up next, "That's one of the reasons Club Ishtar exists. Visitors can mingle and exchange ideas in a neutral atmosphere, expand their minds and all that." At Raguel's invitation, she moved over toward him. "I'll go. I'm curious as to how he might turn out to be, with time."
***
Ajax's rebuttal caused the satyress to frown thoughtfully. "Ajax, you can still have your pride, as we're helping you to get you started toward financial independence. The half-truth that one must remain completely self-sufficient doesn't hold water all the time. Even I had to rely on Coach in the early days. I'm sure that our prehistoric ancestors were dependent on each other to some extent, then roaming wild terrains on their lonesome."
"And as Mr. Arkham stated, he is just going to show you some boats for you to choose from, and I'm sure there's payment plans suitable to what you work with. Everybody here is willing to be flexible, so please stop fretting over it."
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
Three joined them. "Count me in, I'm always up for more freaky shit," he said, which made Raguel smirk. Tom, in the meantime, gave the bar's inventory a thoughtful once-over. "I'm not in the habit of wanting to know exactly how things pan out, it doesn't gel too well with your standard expectations from a Warlock's point of view.
- I'm surprised your own pride hasn't been brought up as an issue," noted Wormsworth. "You do seem to be full of it, as per a Warlock's prerogative."
Magnus didn't take it as an insult. "There's a difference between calling dark powers forth for your own use and having narcissistic tendencies, Wormsworth," he said. "I boast because most of the imps and minor demons I call forth need a show of willpower to be able to cross over. Outside of the summoning circle, though? I think I do my best to at least come across as agreeable. I'm still a demon and I do know I have to learn to let go of our recent accomplishments - but even mortals are allowed to strut their stuff on occasion.
- I don't see how this differs from me," noted the Infernal counsel. Raguel looked vaguely annoyed.
"Tom here knows how to turn it down some. You, big guy, aren't there yet," replied the angel.
Three looked back to Cuthbert. "Will we gone for long?
- You won't be gone at all," reassured the Knight Commander. "At least, not from the others' point of view. You'll leave, yes, but Raguel's going to drop you back in some infinitesimal fraction of a second after you'll have left. He can't make individual moments overlap, however - and that's something even we Squids understand."
Raguel nodded. "Yep. Telefrags aren't as cool as they are in shooters. Atoms aren't meant to directly collide with others. If Future Three comes into direct contact with Past Three in a way that ignores how atomic bonds prevent actual contact, the end result is Hiroshima.
- Then how come Tom and Ais haven't nuked the city yet?" asked the soldier, which left the incubus smirking.
"That's not an issue with magic, Aidan - that's physics at work. Everything that's corporeal or manifest on this plane is made up of atoms, and atoms are suspended in the void by powerful magnetic fields. Bodies generate their own field as well, so you never actually touch anything with your own two hands. On the scale of your observable senses, yeah, you do touch things all the time - but your individual atoms can't and don't touch anything. I might've held Aislinn close over a dozen times in the past month, I've never touched her, or anything else, on the atomic level. Thank Lucifer for that, too - neither of us are exactly looking forward to end our careers as practitioners by atomizing each other and irradiating the East Coast for miles.
- So why haven't Void Weavers used that trick before?"
Anton rolled his eyes from his sectional couch. "Because even Loyalists aren't that stupid!" he called out. "They're working for some grand cataclysmic confluence of supernatural power; Amaxi'd be pissed if Her fans denied Her Her prize. In Her book, She gets to toll the mortal plane's bell, and no-one else! Even the Architect thought ahead and prevented us from being able to make atoms intersect. You can try, and it's actually one of the usual mental gymnastics routines for Augurs - but it turns into resistance training. Our pushing atoms together is like your benching or lifting along your upper limit. Now that Nereus is motivated and able again, it's probably one of the first exercises he'll add back into his routine."
The main object of the exercise drained his glass and went to stand beside Raguel. "This is all very fascinating, but might I add that I'm looking forward to your finally realizing that I cannot be changed?
- This ain't about changing you," countered Raguel, "it's about showing you what giving a damn about others gets you."
* * *
The Faun didn't look entirely convinced, but he didn't object to her logic, either. "Fine. I'm dropping off loads of mussels and salmon by the Last Round, though. You'll have to start working on chowder recipes."
Harrison again parted with an easy laugh. "One of the many charms of the coast... I'll have to stop by and try our one of your steaks, mister Robertson," he told Silas, "I've never had a reason to stop by Renton before.
- You're missing out on Shamus Wallace's favorites," scoffed the lich amusedly. "Teriyaki-style sirloin and my own garnishing for baked potatoes.
- I'm not too fond of red meat or poultry," confessed the broker. "Swap that with a salmon steak and you've got a deal.
- Good man," replied Coach.
The banter gave time enough for Loren to visually scan the room and then telepathically ping Aspasia. "See the frame on the wall? Over his left shoulder, on top of the filing cabinets. There's a map of Green Island and Pickman's Sound's development zones. For someone so focused on boating and freight activities, he's marked out five spots that are located fairly inland - with Centennial Park as the focal point. Try and find a way to broach the topic, if you can."
- I'm surprised your own pride hasn't been brought up as an issue," noted Wormsworth. "You do seem to be full of it, as per a Warlock's prerogative."
Magnus didn't take it as an insult. "There's a difference between calling dark powers forth for your own use and having narcissistic tendencies, Wormsworth," he said. "I boast because most of the imps and minor demons I call forth need a show of willpower to be able to cross over. Outside of the summoning circle, though? I think I do my best to at least come across as agreeable. I'm still a demon and I do know I have to learn to let go of our recent accomplishments - but even mortals are allowed to strut their stuff on occasion.
- I don't see how this differs from me," noted the Infernal counsel. Raguel looked vaguely annoyed.
"Tom here knows how to turn it down some. You, big guy, aren't there yet," replied the angel.
Three looked back to Cuthbert. "Will we gone for long?
- You won't be gone at all," reassured the Knight Commander. "At least, not from the others' point of view. You'll leave, yes, but Raguel's going to drop you back in some infinitesimal fraction of a second after you'll have left. He can't make individual moments overlap, however - and that's something even we Squids understand."
Raguel nodded. "Yep. Telefrags aren't as cool as they are in shooters. Atoms aren't meant to directly collide with others. If Future Three comes into direct contact with Past Three in a way that ignores how atomic bonds prevent actual contact, the end result is Hiroshima.
- Then how come Tom and Ais haven't nuked the city yet?" asked the soldier, which left the incubus smirking.
"That's not an issue with magic, Aidan - that's physics at work. Everything that's corporeal or manifest on this plane is made up of atoms, and atoms are suspended in the void by powerful magnetic fields. Bodies generate their own field as well, so you never actually touch anything with your own two hands. On the scale of your observable senses, yeah, you do touch things all the time - but your individual atoms can't and don't touch anything. I might've held Aislinn close over a dozen times in the past month, I've never touched her, or anything else, on the atomic level. Thank Lucifer for that, too - neither of us are exactly looking forward to end our careers as practitioners by atomizing each other and irradiating the East Coast for miles.
- So why haven't Void Weavers used that trick before?"
Anton rolled his eyes from his sectional couch. "Because even Loyalists aren't that stupid!" he called out. "They're working for some grand cataclysmic confluence of supernatural power; Amaxi'd be pissed if Her fans denied Her Her prize. In Her book, She gets to toll the mortal plane's bell, and no-one else! Even the Architect thought ahead and prevented us from being able to make atoms intersect. You can try, and it's actually one of the usual mental gymnastics routines for Augurs - but it turns into resistance training. Our pushing atoms together is like your benching or lifting along your upper limit. Now that Nereus is motivated and able again, it's probably one of the first exercises he'll add back into his routine."
The main object of the exercise drained his glass and went to stand beside Raguel. "This is all very fascinating, but might I add that I'm looking forward to your finally realizing that I cannot be changed?
- This ain't about changing you," countered Raguel, "it's about showing you what giving a damn about others gets you."
* * *
The Faun didn't look entirely convinced, but he didn't object to her logic, either. "Fine. I'm dropping off loads of mussels and salmon by the Last Round, though. You'll have to start working on chowder recipes."
Harrison again parted with an easy laugh. "One of the many charms of the coast... I'll have to stop by and try our one of your steaks, mister Robertson," he told Silas, "I've never had a reason to stop by Renton before.
- You're missing out on Shamus Wallace's favorites," scoffed the lich amusedly. "Teriyaki-style sirloin and my own garnishing for baked potatoes.
- I'm not too fond of red meat or poultry," confessed the broker. "Swap that with a salmon steak and you've got a deal.
- Good man," replied Coach.
The banter gave time enough for Loren to visually scan the room and then telepathically ping Aspasia. "See the frame on the wall? Over his left shoulder, on top of the filing cabinets. There's a map of Green Island and Pickman's Sound's development zones. For someone so focused on boating and freight activities, he's marked out five spots that are located fairly inland - with Centennial Park as the focal point. Try and find a way to broach the topic, if you can."