Sharing Three's sentiment at the beauty of the humanoid statues and touches of nature within the palace, she observed them in quiet reverence and followed Bob and her friends. Upon seeing the Teachers' leader, Meris was briefly reminded of Delmar when she initially met him when she was a young woman of 19. She felt the timeworn and caring embrace and returned it, her heart humbled yet joyous at the thought of her ancestors and Solomon smiling upon her.
Listening to Ahriman's explanation of his original character and shift in regard toward mortals, the archmage smiled softly and responded, "I know of only some angels who regard mortals in a parental manner and understand why the Creator dotes so much on them, while others tolerate it or at least try to understand God's fixation on us. From what I know, even God's mentor, the Architect, is slightly baffled by it at times. On the other hand, it's also a trait He has encouraged within the Creator, and he's intrigued by us as well. So, I understand your feelings toward the souls who arrive in Pandemonium looking for help and the laying down of their burdens after a great deal of reflection."
***
Aislinn's nose wrinkled, and she chuckled. "God, don't remind me," she joked with a playful groan. She then eyed the pods and looked back at Tom. "I know you're probably going to wait a while, but when you are you planning on bringing your friends here?" she asked. "And I'm assuming they'd also stay here until they'd be able to get on their feet?"
Chapter III: The Fall
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Karl the Mad
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Re: Chapter III: The Fall
"Knowing is half the battle, darling," Katherine replied with a chuckle. "But you're right either way. I'll head straight over there, then." She gave him another peck on the forehead, then turned and walked out of the office. She was hungry, but didn't feel like stopping anyway; no doubt Gubbin or Bagley would have something on hand, of course.
-------------------------
Mary laughed a little too, but her expression abruptly turned to one of vague horror. "Dammit, I left my bike at the docks," she cursed. It was unlikely the Russians would mess with it, but there were more than just Russians along the waterfront...
-------------------------
"Then let us hope he does not learn of my involvement until I can tell him so myself, with a tidy stack of answers in hand to satisfy his wounded ego," Jericho replied in similar fashion. "All the same I will at least try for some discretion. I do have a business to run and a reputation to uphold, and neither can make it long without the other."
-------------------------
Peace... Charles hadn't known true peace in quite some time. "...thank you, old one," was all he could say in response to the ancient demon's words. He could tell the other two had been giving food for thought as well. "I try not to think s' far ahead, though."
-------------------------
Mary laughed a little too, but her expression abruptly turned to one of vague horror. "Dammit, I left my bike at the docks," she cursed. It was unlikely the Russians would mess with it, but there were more than just Russians along the waterfront...
-------------------------
"Then let us hope he does not learn of my involvement until I can tell him so myself, with a tidy stack of answers in hand to satisfy his wounded ego," Jericho replied in similar fashion. "All the same I will at least try for some discretion. I do have a business to run and a reputation to uphold, and neither can make it long without the other."
-------------------------
Peace... Charles hadn't known true peace in quite some time. "...thank you, old one," was all he could say in response to the ancient demon's words. He could tell the other two had been giving food for thought as well. "I try not to think s' far ahead, though."
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter III: The Fall
Evergloam's eternal late springtime made interviewing the Gruffs and other footmen a bit more difficult than the twins could've expected. First came the shock of the difference in temperature, as the mortal plane's chilly winds would never touch Faerie, and then came the need to carry their coats and boots around, while people around them at best tended to wear pants and shoes. Evergloam was home to Fae from all corners of the last thousand years, brightly-colored hair done in a cheerful punkish looks walking side-by-side alongside frock coats and top hats, or the woolen stockings and rapiers of the Elizabethan Era.
Interviewing the Commoners serving in the city's reserve was easy enough, most of them spoke modern English reasonably well, various regional accents included. Speaking to the Gruffs, however, came with an inescapable question most of them seemed to ask at least once:
"Canst thou please speak with less celerity?"
Most tended to settle on snorts and head shakes, saying they'd never done a tour of duty in "Footman" Delgado's precinct. Some seemed to seize at the opportunity to land scandalized comments, trying to come across as honor-bound when they weren't much more than self-aggrandized tattle-tales in chainmail. At the very least, Ciaran and Neasa would become acquainted with the universal nature of the boastful beat cop who still hadn't realized he was out of shape, coffee and fast food here traded for ale and roasted chickens. Fat Gruffs might not have looked out of shape by anthro standards, but stout guards who could barely lace their leather armor and who spent the day snoozing while clutching their halberds left little to the imagination.
Eventually, after what might have felt like an hour or so, Ciaran would catch sight of a cloaked figure gesturing to him from the last guard tower they'd visited. The man's size and discreetly-raised four-fingered hand promised another Gruff, but the pale blue eye that peeked out of the cloak's cowl was easily recognizable.
Why did Sir Percival feel the need to go for what passed for stealth for his people? A roided-up faun in a black cloak was difficult to miss if you were six feet tall or less, but maybe other Gruffs were still so mired in their capes-and-tabards mentality that they couldn't think to pay that tall, bulky and cloven-hooved shadow any mind...
* * *
Tom gestured dismissively as Mary voiced her concerns. "Don't worry, I hexed your bike before we left. It's nothing serious, just a mild sleeping curse that affects anyone that isn't you or me that might touch your pride and joy. So, um, if you go back and find a few snoring heaps splayed about, don't worry. Just nudge your way past all the Rip Van Winkles, kick your bike stand out of the way, go at it on foot for a few hundred meters so nobody wakes up, and then ride off into the proverbial sunset."
He winked. "See? Demons aren't that bad, hm? Personal masseur, bike alarm, passable chef... I'm a Swiss knife on two legs."
Considering Aislinn's query, however, he pursed his lips. "As to my opening portals to Hell here and now to let my friends through - that's a no-go. We're sheltering the one mortal a Prince of the Pit is sending pings to, and the last thing I want is to make it known that I mean business. I do that, and odds are Blackie's going to skip the whole trial thing and shunt Leonard's soul out right now. Which would be bad."
He counted on his fingers. "Best case scenario; we save Lenny's soul and kick the Goat in the teeth, then I let my friends through. Worst case scenario; we fumble the ball, we lose Leonard, the Goat learns about us and there's nothing more to lose - in which case I'd also let them through. In that case, though, it wouldn't be out of my earlier desire to make Harriet Tubman's ghost look favorably on the plight of reluctant Pitspawn - but because we'd be in urgent need of extra fighting hands."
* * *
"Ain't it the truth, as they say," agreed Archie, briefly slipping into one of his American registries. "I'll start with doing what we snobs do best, which is get noticed in overpriced bidding houses and antique dealers... I should know if there's any sort of word-of-mouth in place within a day or two, especially if I start to take a liking to, well, ludicrously expensive things. If that gets me a phone line or an email address to Alexandria's representatives, I'll forward it to you."
* * *
"Your saying so gladdens me," Ahriman told Meris, while he settled with a sympathetic smile towards Jenkins. "One day at a time," he said, nodding approvingly. "So many immortals forget this simple truth; fortune has made you mortals wiser than many a deathless creature."
Three smiled slightly. "Well, that's when we do remember. We're no strangers to castles in Spain, I'd say," he said, which made the old demon chuckle in agreement. A few seconds then passed during which his dark sightless gaze swept over them, and he then walked away.
"Please," he said, "walk with me. You've come to hear of our plans for the Black Goat, and so shall you hear of them."
The younger soldier started first. "What is this place, exactly?
- The seat of the Council of Judah," explained Ahriman, "named after the first of our Teachers. Judah who Fell with us, clawed his way out of iniquity, and was first to take up arms when Sammael first spoke of our redemption. He looked upon our tainted selves and saw them as a means to frighten the enemy, to make ourselves as monsters to the monsters themselves."
Three nodded. "Hence the horns and red skin and all?
- Aye," agreed Ahriman, "and to impart honor to what Lucifer intended to be marks of grotesque pride. He wears horns to mock you, and so does the Black Goat - but we wear horns to defend you. What was made to mock you, we use to signify our sympathy.
- We try and look mortal," summarized Bob. "To at least feel like it, at least. Hence the jeans and the jacket and all.
- I do wish you would put on a shirt, Bob," sighed Ahriman, while Bob rolled his eyes.
"I don't dress like that to impress you monkeys," he explained, "I dress like that so the Pitspawn know I mean business. We've tried the whole demon-slaying three-piece-suit thing back in the thirties, but wearing layers isn't a good idea when you're stuck with a frenzied human serving as personal transport for a shit-stain on legs. Too many grappling points or choking hazards."
Interviewing the Commoners serving in the city's reserve was easy enough, most of them spoke modern English reasonably well, various regional accents included. Speaking to the Gruffs, however, came with an inescapable question most of them seemed to ask at least once:
"Canst thou please speak with less celerity?"
Most tended to settle on snorts and head shakes, saying they'd never done a tour of duty in "Footman" Delgado's precinct. Some seemed to seize at the opportunity to land scandalized comments, trying to come across as honor-bound when they weren't much more than self-aggrandized tattle-tales in chainmail. At the very least, Ciaran and Neasa would become acquainted with the universal nature of the boastful beat cop who still hadn't realized he was out of shape, coffee and fast food here traded for ale and roasted chickens. Fat Gruffs might not have looked out of shape by anthro standards, but stout guards who could barely lace their leather armor and who spent the day snoozing while clutching their halberds left little to the imagination.
Eventually, after what might have felt like an hour or so, Ciaran would catch sight of a cloaked figure gesturing to him from the last guard tower they'd visited. The man's size and discreetly-raised four-fingered hand promised another Gruff, but the pale blue eye that peeked out of the cloak's cowl was easily recognizable.
Why did Sir Percival feel the need to go for what passed for stealth for his people? A roided-up faun in a black cloak was difficult to miss if you were six feet tall or less, but maybe other Gruffs were still so mired in their capes-and-tabards mentality that they couldn't think to pay that tall, bulky and cloven-hooved shadow any mind...
* * *
Tom gestured dismissively as Mary voiced her concerns. "Don't worry, I hexed your bike before we left. It's nothing serious, just a mild sleeping curse that affects anyone that isn't you or me that might touch your pride and joy. So, um, if you go back and find a few snoring heaps splayed about, don't worry. Just nudge your way past all the Rip Van Winkles, kick your bike stand out of the way, go at it on foot for a few hundred meters so nobody wakes up, and then ride off into the proverbial sunset."
He winked. "See? Demons aren't that bad, hm? Personal masseur, bike alarm, passable chef... I'm a Swiss knife on two legs."
Considering Aislinn's query, however, he pursed his lips. "As to my opening portals to Hell here and now to let my friends through - that's a no-go. We're sheltering the one mortal a Prince of the Pit is sending pings to, and the last thing I want is to make it known that I mean business. I do that, and odds are Blackie's going to skip the whole trial thing and shunt Leonard's soul out right now. Which would be bad."
He counted on his fingers. "Best case scenario; we save Lenny's soul and kick the Goat in the teeth, then I let my friends through. Worst case scenario; we fumble the ball, we lose Leonard, the Goat learns about us and there's nothing more to lose - in which case I'd also let them through. In that case, though, it wouldn't be out of my earlier desire to make Harriet Tubman's ghost look favorably on the plight of reluctant Pitspawn - but because we'd be in urgent need of extra fighting hands."
* * *
"Ain't it the truth, as they say," agreed Archie, briefly slipping into one of his American registries. "I'll start with doing what we snobs do best, which is get noticed in overpriced bidding houses and antique dealers... I should know if there's any sort of word-of-mouth in place within a day or two, especially if I start to take a liking to, well, ludicrously expensive things. If that gets me a phone line or an email address to Alexandria's representatives, I'll forward it to you."
* * *
"Your saying so gladdens me," Ahriman told Meris, while he settled with a sympathetic smile towards Jenkins. "One day at a time," he said, nodding approvingly. "So many immortals forget this simple truth; fortune has made you mortals wiser than many a deathless creature."
Three smiled slightly. "Well, that's when we do remember. We're no strangers to castles in Spain, I'd say," he said, which made the old demon chuckle in agreement. A few seconds then passed during which his dark sightless gaze swept over them, and he then walked away.
"Please," he said, "walk with me. You've come to hear of our plans for the Black Goat, and so shall you hear of them."
The younger soldier started first. "What is this place, exactly?
- The seat of the Council of Judah," explained Ahriman, "named after the first of our Teachers. Judah who Fell with us, clawed his way out of iniquity, and was first to take up arms when Sammael first spoke of our redemption. He looked upon our tainted selves and saw them as a means to frighten the enemy, to make ourselves as monsters to the monsters themselves."
Three nodded. "Hence the horns and red skin and all?
- Aye," agreed Ahriman, "and to impart honor to what Lucifer intended to be marks of grotesque pride. He wears horns to mock you, and so does the Black Goat - but we wear horns to defend you. What was made to mock you, we use to signify our sympathy.
- We try and look mortal," summarized Bob. "To at least feel like it, at least. Hence the jeans and the jacket and all.
- I do wish you would put on a shirt, Bob," sighed Ahriman, while Bob rolled his eyes.
"I don't dress like that to impress you monkeys," he explained, "I dress like that so the Pitspawn know I mean business. We've tried the whole demon-slaying three-piece-suit thing back in the thirties, but wearing layers isn't a good idea when you're stuck with a frenzied human serving as personal transport for a shit-stain on legs. Too many grappling points or choking hazards."
-
TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter III: The Fall
The male roane happened to notice the subtle gesture out of the corner of his eye and nudged his older sister, using his eyes to indicate the Gruff at the guard tower. The sight of his pale blue eye was a telltale giveaway, at least for them. Ciaran and Neasa ventured back over to the guard tower and went up to the cloaked caprine man, both puzzled at his subterfuge toward his own men. What did he know about Delgado? Was he trying to play the oblivious superior while being in the loop about the detective's nefarious dealings?
***
Aislinn nodded. "All hands on deck and such," she replied, then looking down at the leather garments she was wearing. "Never thought my clubwear would be useful for work. Surprise, surprise," she mused with a scoff.
***
Meris grunted lightly in agreement. "Practical clothing is a key element in any form of combat," she responded, thinking of her own experiences. "While some mages and wizards in the Middle Ages and Renaissance decked themselves out in robes, it was never really an option for me." She then returned to their reason for being here and asked, "As for your plans to battle the Black Goat and his forces?"
***
Aislinn nodded. "All hands on deck and such," she replied, then looking down at the leather garments she was wearing. "Never thought my clubwear would be useful for work. Surprise, surprise," she mused with a scoff.
***
Meris grunted lightly in agreement. "Practical clothing is a key element in any form of combat," she responded, thinking of her own experiences. "While some mages and wizards in the Middle Ages and Renaissance decked themselves out in robes, it was never really an option for me." She then returned to their reason for being here and asked, "As for your plans to battle the Black Goat and his forces?"
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Karl the Mad
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- Joined: Wed Jan 16, 2013 4:27 am
- Location: Oregon
Re: Chapter III: The Fall
((Another PM at you, L.))
Mary chuckled in relief as Tom explained his ruse. "Not all demons, anyway," she agreed. For a moment she wondered, if she could go back in time, what the Mary from before would think of the Mary she was now. Probably accuse her of going soft and complacent, letting all these demons and shit run about doing their stuff. And to even think of helping them!
I've come a long way, she realized privately.
-------------------------
"Much obliged, guv'nor," Jericho replied back, using a British accent of some sort. In the next second he chuckled and looked embarrassed. "Ugh, I would not do so well undercover. English was not my first language, and I have difficulties learning new spoken languages anyway; so much easier simply to use my nose and sniff out what people really want!" An obvious explanation for the slightly formal way he usually spoke, then.
-------------------------
Charles smirked at Three. "Drakey 'n I coul' tell y'all 'bout th' damn clown suits America made us wear," he joked. "S' why I preferred goin' native, dress 'ow ya wanted 'n no one coul' say otherwise." Of course, Three was also likely familiar with that particular conceit of the Special Forces...
-------------------------
After driving for a few minutes, Katherine figured it might be easier to call ahead, first. So she muted the radio and hit the Bluetooth. "Call Holden Hall," she said, clearly and distinctly. Whether she'd get Gubbin or Bagley was anyone guess.
Mary chuckled in relief as Tom explained his ruse. "Not all demons, anyway," she agreed. For a moment she wondered, if she could go back in time, what the Mary from before would think of the Mary she was now. Probably accuse her of going soft and complacent, letting all these demons and shit run about doing their stuff. And to even think of helping them!
I've come a long way, she realized privately.
-------------------------
"Much obliged, guv'nor," Jericho replied back, using a British accent of some sort. In the next second he chuckled and looked embarrassed. "Ugh, I would not do so well undercover. English was not my first language, and I have difficulties learning new spoken languages anyway; so much easier simply to use my nose and sniff out what people really want!" An obvious explanation for the slightly formal way he usually spoke, then.
-------------------------
Charles smirked at Three. "Drakey 'n I coul' tell y'all 'bout th' damn clown suits America made us wear," he joked. "S' why I preferred goin' native, dress 'ow ya wanted 'n no one coul' say otherwise." Of course, Three was also likely familiar with that particular conceit of the Special Forces...
-------------------------
After driving for a few minutes, Katherine figured it might be easier to call ahead, first. So she muted the radio and hit the Bluetooth. "Call Holden Hall," she said, clearly and distinctly. Whether she'd get Gubbin or Bagley was anyone guess.
-
IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter III: The Fall
Perhaps sensing the basic nature of Mary's train of thought, Tom smirked as he started back up the stairs. "Don't worry," he told Jameson, "we'll find you some reprehensible Pitspawn to rail on in short order. Or, you know, the mortal flunkies of said Pitspawn. Whatever works. No sense in letting that moral outrage go to waste, hm? Not that I'm mocking you, it's more that there's a few million of them for every single one of me."
He gave the pods one last thoughtful look and started upstairs, sighing. "I just hope they'll all take to basic restraint as fast as I did, or else we'll all lose a lot of time learning the meaning of gratitude on an incubus' scale... I've done what I could to teach them while Downstairs, in ages past, but there's a world of differences between theory and practical applications."
Coming upstairs to the sound of Archie's scattered personal phones ringing, he looked up to the second floor to the sight of an apron-wearing Bagley managing to make a brisk run for the nearest device look inordinately dignified. Some of the household's phones being antiquated enough to make Caller I.D. look like a nonsensical fairy tale, he couldn't take a guess as to whom was calling.
"Holden residence, Maurice Bagley speaking..."
That might very well be Katherine's first cue that some things had quite seriously changed since her last trek to Europe. Bagley had always been around the mansion, of course, having been a genius loci of sorts - but he'd never been able to answer the phone on his own...
* * *
"Come now," replied Archie encouragingly, "you're not that bad; I daresay you speak a cleaner King's English than most men I speak to who actually have the mortal age that goes with your looks! All those contractions and buzzwords that change by the week, memes and chat speak... And some people wonder why certain immortals fall off the grid."
His outrage was more of a gag than anything serious, in any case. "I find myself tempted, sometimes, you know. Just - let the old main spring run out until even consciousness fades, have Bagley crate me and store me in the basement... Just sleep this damnable millennium away in the hopes of awakening to something a tad more sensible, the way old social mores sometimes return..."
He sighed, more for effect than out of any serious display of resignation. "But alas for both you and I, we are both needed."
* * *
Drake rolled his eyes. "The Special Forces types I saw were either Aug jobs or supes who'd chosen to join the Army instead of waiting for the registration acts to get repealed. They came in two varieties: the Angsty Edgelord with an Unhealthy Relationship with his Gun, and the Abercrombie & Fitch Reject who Figures He's Here for PR. A lot of these idiots packed belief systems that were a smack in the face to the natives, like they'd shoot Jesus into the local heathens one bullet at a time.
A few of 'em were qualified, some were even scary, so much as they were good as one-man commandos; but they had precisely zero local involvement. Not a shred of respect for the home turf of these people we'd just invaded to keep the international community from having to discuss another Paris or another Beyrouth for a year, then two, then three. I mean, I saw a lot of morons with the rest of us grunts too - but anyone who wore black usually packed a few extra layers of douchebaggery."
Ahriman looked as though Three's modern jargon had been absolutely limpid. "We do our best to initiate those surrendering Pitspawn to Pandemonium's values, but they are as any other teaching: learning them at a young age is preferable. Civilizing a feral beast is... a difficult prospect at the most."
Bob nodded. "I know a couple Teachers who take to it pretty casually. If it speaks and isn't attacking you, there's hope yet. If it's trying to claw your face off, raising pens and keeping a few dozen ferals corralled won't do you any good. We've got our own morons too, but they're not typically part of the Teacher workforce. It's more the reservists we keep on call that tend to fuck up; the Sammaelite code makes it pretty hard to lack empathy."
Three frowned. "How were you trained, anyway?
- Like any other Sammaelite," explained Bob. "I came Upstairs with my folks, lived off the land for a few generations. I got acquainted with hard work, with hunger and the rest of the usual mortal failings. I stayed Upstairs until I understood exactly why people steal food or murder people; until I knew exactly why lying's so easy and convenient. Any preconceived judgment I could've had for mortals got beat out of me in the real School of Hard Knocks."
Drake seemed interested. "So... You've done things, I bet.
- Yep. Stole, lied, cheated, did time... I worked for murderers and assholes with an authority complex. I've done it enough to know why people do the things they do. I've got the longest, most thorough Criminology and Psychology degrees you could've asked for, and I didn't get 'em in some cushy college."
He gave the pods one last thoughtful look and started upstairs, sighing. "I just hope they'll all take to basic restraint as fast as I did, or else we'll all lose a lot of time learning the meaning of gratitude on an incubus' scale... I've done what I could to teach them while Downstairs, in ages past, but there's a world of differences between theory and practical applications."
Coming upstairs to the sound of Archie's scattered personal phones ringing, he looked up to the second floor to the sight of an apron-wearing Bagley managing to make a brisk run for the nearest device look inordinately dignified. Some of the household's phones being antiquated enough to make Caller I.D. look like a nonsensical fairy tale, he couldn't take a guess as to whom was calling.
"Holden residence, Maurice Bagley speaking..."
That might very well be Katherine's first cue that some things had quite seriously changed since her last trek to Europe. Bagley had always been around the mansion, of course, having been a genius loci of sorts - but he'd never been able to answer the phone on his own...
* * *
"Come now," replied Archie encouragingly, "you're not that bad; I daresay you speak a cleaner King's English than most men I speak to who actually have the mortal age that goes with your looks! All those contractions and buzzwords that change by the week, memes and chat speak... And some people wonder why certain immortals fall off the grid."
His outrage was more of a gag than anything serious, in any case. "I find myself tempted, sometimes, you know. Just - let the old main spring run out until even consciousness fades, have Bagley crate me and store me in the basement... Just sleep this damnable millennium away in the hopes of awakening to something a tad more sensible, the way old social mores sometimes return..."
He sighed, more for effect than out of any serious display of resignation. "But alas for both you and I, we are both needed."
* * *
Drake rolled his eyes. "The Special Forces types I saw were either Aug jobs or supes who'd chosen to join the Army instead of waiting for the registration acts to get repealed. They came in two varieties: the Angsty Edgelord with an Unhealthy Relationship with his Gun, and the Abercrombie & Fitch Reject who Figures He's Here for PR. A lot of these idiots packed belief systems that were a smack in the face to the natives, like they'd shoot Jesus into the local heathens one bullet at a time.
A few of 'em were qualified, some were even scary, so much as they were good as one-man commandos; but they had precisely zero local involvement. Not a shred of respect for the home turf of these people we'd just invaded to keep the international community from having to discuss another Paris or another Beyrouth for a year, then two, then three. I mean, I saw a lot of morons with the rest of us grunts too - but anyone who wore black usually packed a few extra layers of douchebaggery."
Ahriman looked as though Three's modern jargon had been absolutely limpid. "We do our best to initiate those surrendering Pitspawn to Pandemonium's values, but they are as any other teaching: learning them at a young age is preferable. Civilizing a feral beast is... a difficult prospect at the most."
Bob nodded. "I know a couple Teachers who take to it pretty casually. If it speaks and isn't attacking you, there's hope yet. If it's trying to claw your face off, raising pens and keeping a few dozen ferals corralled won't do you any good. We've got our own morons too, but they're not typically part of the Teacher workforce. It's more the reservists we keep on call that tend to fuck up; the Sammaelite code makes it pretty hard to lack empathy."
Three frowned. "How were you trained, anyway?
- Like any other Sammaelite," explained Bob. "I came Upstairs with my folks, lived off the land for a few generations. I got acquainted with hard work, with hunger and the rest of the usual mortal failings. I stayed Upstairs until I understood exactly why people steal food or murder people; until I knew exactly why lying's so easy and convenient. Any preconceived judgment I could've had for mortals got beat out of me in the real School of Hard Knocks."
Drake seemed interested. "So... You've done things, I bet.
- Yep. Stole, lied, cheated, did time... I worked for murderers and assholes with an authority complex. I've done it enough to know why people do the things they do. I've got the longest, most thorough Criminology and Psychology degrees you could've asked for, and I didn't get 'em in some cushy college."
-
TennyoCeres84
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- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:59 am
Re: Chapter III: The Fall
OOC: Don't forget to reply to Ciaran and Neasa.
BIC: Aislinn winced at the thought of an incubus or a succubus having issues managing their restraint despite having learned about mortal expectations over the course of entire mortal lifetimes. Something that had been painstakingly learned by Tom was only a theoretical idea for a handful of sex demons, leaving her to remember how the sons and daughters of Asmodeus had looked at her during her first stint at traveling to the Infernal Plane. Hopefully, they had taken his lessons to heart to some extent.
Seeing Bagley hurry for one of the mansion's antique phones, the roane frowned and asked her mentor, "I realize you've taught them what you could, but wouldn't we also act as additional teachers for them? I mean, couldn't they get the idea of when we explain what the suitable limit of gratitude would be without having to be exceedingly blunt? I really don't want to have to telepathically blare "Stop! Enough!" in a potential succubus or incubus' mind..."
***
Taking note of Bob's statement of his experience of mortal psychology and experiences, Meris asked him, "How would you be at meeting a self-taught incubus who happened to thwart Belial from appearing in the mortal plane while in control of a deceased warlock's body? You did say you didn't know who Tom Magnus was..."
The archmage had managed to use her kind's known frankness to hopefully steer the conversation toward current events in Hope and the Black Goat's activities. She also wondered about the Sammaelite eventually being assigned to Hope, if things really did get severe enough for Pandemonium to intervene and the need to have an agent who already had some notion of what was going on in the mortal world.
BIC: Aislinn winced at the thought of an incubus or a succubus having issues managing their restraint despite having learned about mortal expectations over the course of entire mortal lifetimes. Something that had been painstakingly learned by Tom was only a theoretical idea for a handful of sex demons, leaving her to remember how the sons and daughters of Asmodeus had looked at her during her first stint at traveling to the Infernal Plane. Hopefully, they had taken his lessons to heart to some extent.
Seeing Bagley hurry for one of the mansion's antique phones, the roane frowned and asked her mentor, "I realize you've taught them what you could, but wouldn't we also act as additional teachers for them? I mean, couldn't they get the idea of when we explain what the suitable limit of gratitude would be without having to be exceedingly blunt? I really don't want to have to telepathically blare "Stop! Enough!" in a potential succubus or incubus' mind..."
***
Taking note of Bob's statement of his experience of mortal psychology and experiences, Meris asked him, "How would you be at meeting a self-taught incubus who happened to thwart Belial from appearing in the mortal plane while in control of a deceased warlock's body? You did say you didn't know who Tom Magnus was..."
The archmage had managed to use her kind's known frankness to hopefully steer the conversation toward current events in Hope and the Black Goat's activities. She also wondered about the Sammaelite eventually being assigned to Hope, if things really did get severe enough for Pandemonium to intervene and the need to have an agent who already had some notion of what was going on in the mortal world.
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Karl the Mad
- Posts: 1260
- Joined: Wed Jan 16, 2013 4:27 am
- Location: Oregon
Re: Chapter III: The Fall
((Hey L, on the old board, Berserker vamps were shape-changers, or something? Is that still the case here?))
Mary just smirked. "Moral outrage, meet justified paranoia," she replied, rolling her eyes. Seeing Bagley dash ponderously for the phones, she wondered who was calling. "You'd think he could have a receiver directly implanted in his head... But more teaching?" The former cop seemed resigned at the thought. "Put it on my tab, I guess. Hm, speaking of which," and she turned on Tom again. "You've yet to attend one of my classes yourself, mister. Think you can make time? Everyone's been through it, even Aislinn."
On the phone, meanwhile, Katherine sounded confused. "Bagley...? Wait, did they put you in a body or something?" Was that related to what Kuhn had mentioned earlier? she wondered. "Um, anyway, I'm on my way over. Who's around over there?" She hoped Jenkins was there...
-------------------------
"And so we are," Jericho agreed, chuckling at Archie's antics. "Well, I do need to catch up on some last bits of paperwork before I can devote my full attention to your endeavors, so if you would leave a convenient phone number or email address with Lisa up front...?"
Mary just smirked. "Moral outrage, meet justified paranoia," she replied, rolling her eyes. Seeing Bagley dash ponderously for the phones, she wondered who was calling. "You'd think he could have a receiver directly implanted in his head... But more teaching?" The former cop seemed resigned at the thought. "Put it on my tab, I guess. Hm, speaking of which," and she turned on Tom again. "You've yet to attend one of my classes yourself, mister. Think you can make time? Everyone's been through it, even Aislinn."
On the phone, meanwhile, Katherine sounded confused. "Bagley...? Wait, did they put you in a body or something?" Was that related to what Kuhn had mentioned earlier? she wondered. "Um, anyway, I'm on my way over. Who's around over there?" She hoped Jenkins was there...
-------------------------
"And so we are," Jericho agreed, chuckling at Archie's antics. "Well, I do need to catch up on some last bits of paperwork before I can devote my full attention to your endeavors, so if you would leave a convenient phone number or email address with Lisa up front...?"
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IamLEAM1983
- Site Admin
- Posts: 3712
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
- Location: Quebec, Canada
Re: Chapter III: The Fall
Tom kept walking, their success having apparently whetted his appetite. "I don't know, Mary," he admitted, "the body's over forty and overweight, it'll never have to breach doors or take point. I only really claimed Quint's corpse because of how, well, flush with via the idiot was. For an incompetent, he was very finely attuned to the local ley lines."
He pouted, as though this were something he'd only just realized and never considered. Had Belial been a bit more forward in his wheedling and cajoling the warthog, all in order to end up with the best possible mortal coil?
"I mean, I'm not Silas Robertson," he added, "but then again, only a lich can equal another lich."
Still, the way he looked at Jameson suggested he wasn't rejecting her offer, and was voicing basic doubts. "If you can tell me there's a Special Response subset for sartorially-gifted warlocks, I'm in," he said, finishing as he reached the kitchen and fetched an apple for himself.
Biting into the fruit, he considered Aislinn's words. "They'll need to learn the gist of prolonged existence in the mortal plane, of course," he explained, "but I've done what I could to make sure their meeting us won't be too, well, effusive. Two of them aren't going to have too much trouble redirecting their lust elsewhere, like I am - but I know one might have to resort to alone time to alleviate the pressure, for the first few weeks."
He shrugged. "It might embarrass her. Volkov and Chrerneyevsky might be more social in their own ways, but the girl?"
Tom clicked his tongue. "She's the rookie, to put it simply. She'll resort to being extremely shy for fear of being invasive or acting out of turn, and she might resent us if we approach her too quickly. She just doesn't trust herself yet. I've faith in her, of course - but she still doubts herself. It'll get easier for her once she finds a few distractions."
In the meantime, Bagley replied with his usual placid courteousness. "Mister Gubbin and I are on call, but I'm afraid the Lord has left the mansion with two of the McConmaras. An investigative lunch, I believe mister Holden called it," he summarized, a tiny bit of humor giving color to his last syllables.
"Sirs Drake and Jenkins are also away on mission, although I find myself ill at ease at describing said mission's parameters at present. Suffice it to say, they'll have temporarily left this plane of existence, and should be back in time for mid-afternoon. Aislinn and miss Jameson are available, along with our guests. Of them, you'll recognize mister Leonard Ephesian. Matters of, er, personal faith have greatly troubled him of late - sufficiently to require protection."
Knowing who Katherine was, he didn't feel bad about using Preston's real name. "Mister Hauser is keeping an ear to the ground, as per usual. I suspect you'll meet our new strays when you'll arrive."
Nevermind how hunger wasn't something phone lines communicated, Bagley was as perceptive a headmaster as could be expected. "Shall I prepare something for you?"
He'd sounded much the same as during his house spirit years, but there was a smidgen of rediscovered vigor to his tone; something that felt less Steampunk AI and more Congenial Immortal.
* * *
"Of course," replied Archie, standing up. "I'll forward those additional files I've mentioned as soon as I return home. As I've explained, you'll find a great many dodgers, most of which will not fit your suspect's description. It could also be that I am mistaken and that our bully of policewomen is somehow very much mundane, but the local criminal spheres don't inspire me quite as much as the old paranoid fuddy-duddies the Vienna Council is acquainted with."
Saying this seemed to remind him of something, which them made him sigh and groan slightly. "Bugger," he said, "I suspect this means I'll have to make time for Forsythe's recriminations about my line of work..."
His lips twisted into a moue as he paused at the door. "Family," he said, giving the vampire a vaguely disgusted look.
* * *
Bob's reply was a snort that conveyed a bit of approval and a good measure of surprise. "I'd say Heck yeah," he said, "and I'd buy the guy a beer. Folks from Asmodeus' corner don't usually survive going Consensual, the lack of stimuli drives 'em nuts over time. I guess this Magnus guy found out what a lot of early Seducers did, way back when - that it's easier to cut back on forcibly-obtained mortal pleasure in small doses. Your balls-out orgies turn into just four partners, then three, then two; you get used to keying into actually decent oxytocin bursts and learn to appreciate peer-bonding..."
The Teacher then added hand-puppet gestures, indicating the process was a long and generally drawn-out one. "Who's the vessel?" he then asked, referring to Magnus' obtained body. "We heard about an escape from Belial's jail some time ago, but we didn't find anything to lock on to. No serious incursions, no obvious possession reports, nothing. Pitspawn don't usually skip town to cruise around your neck of the woods in non-corporeal form..."
He shrugged. "There was that one bit with a tryhard stealing Azorthagal's credentials, but we already know you took care of it," he added, giving Meris a thumbs-up.
"He reported his activity in your plane of existence," added Ahriman, "as a courtesy call towards us. The Physician liberally trades information between the Pit and the City, as he believes that the various ailments and curses he carries necessitate a counterpoint of health and vigor to have their intended effect. Ever since the Fall, he has never unilaterally favored either ourselves or the Goat's allies."
* * *
The cloak-wearing figure disappeared in one of the barracks, slipping away past Evergloam's walls thanks to a secret door expertly hidden among the circular wall's stones. Beyond Evergloam's ramparts waited the endless verdant fields of Summer, which were largely the same no matter from whence you came on the mortal plane. Rising hills, sloping valleys, noble trees heavy with mature leaves that could have been soaking in that endless summertime's daylight for eons on end, honeysuckle and clover on the wind... Something to the landscape felt as much like a slice of English countryside as it did like a chunk of Ireland, or even of Japan's countryside. Rolling hills were, after all, more or less universal.
The Gruff removed his hood and carefully unclasped the cloak, his ears swiveling this way and that, piercing golden eyes on a constant vigil.
"I must be brief, whelps," he said, somehow managing to make the word feel like a respectful adjective, "for thou hast stepped in shadows that doth dwell in brightest day. Delgado's web has its limits, aye, but the one who ensnares her knows none."
The Gruff's jaws worked, as if he were chewing cud. Here, though, the gesture seemed to express thoughtfulness. "Ask what you may, I will share what is mine. Know that mine knowledge is scarce: fain would I tell thee of the villain's guise, but I know of no such thing. I know he is resourceful, I know he wields power, and I know that Delgado is but a slave, held to manacles of fear. If thou wouldst free her, thou wouldst learn more. How you could free her, however..."
Percy sighed, his gaze lost in the immensity ahead as if he'd find the answer if he peered at the undulating fronds of grass and the occasional trills of birdsong that pierced the air.
He pouted, as though this were something he'd only just realized and never considered. Had Belial been a bit more forward in his wheedling and cajoling the warthog, all in order to end up with the best possible mortal coil?
"I mean, I'm not Silas Robertson," he added, "but then again, only a lich can equal another lich."
Still, the way he looked at Jameson suggested he wasn't rejecting her offer, and was voicing basic doubts. "If you can tell me there's a Special Response subset for sartorially-gifted warlocks, I'm in," he said, finishing as he reached the kitchen and fetched an apple for himself.
Biting into the fruit, he considered Aislinn's words. "They'll need to learn the gist of prolonged existence in the mortal plane, of course," he explained, "but I've done what I could to make sure their meeting us won't be too, well, effusive. Two of them aren't going to have too much trouble redirecting their lust elsewhere, like I am - but I know one might have to resort to alone time to alleviate the pressure, for the first few weeks."
He shrugged. "It might embarrass her. Volkov and Chrerneyevsky might be more social in their own ways, but the girl?"
Tom clicked his tongue. "She's the rookie, to put it simply. She'll resort to being extremely shy for fear of being invasive or acting out of turn, and she might resent us if we approach her too quickly. She just doesn't trust herself yet. I've faith in her, of course - but she still doubts herself. It'll get easier for her once she finds a few distractions."
In the meantime, Bagley replied with his usual placid courteousness. "Mister Gubbin and I are on call, but I'm afraid the Lord has left the mansion with two of the McConmaras. An investigative lunch, I believe mister Holden called it," he summarized, a tiny bit of humor giving color to his last syllables.
"Sirs Drake and Jenkins are also away on mission, although I find myself ill at ease at describing said mission's parameters at present. Suffice it to say, they'll have temporarily left this plane of existence, and should be back in time for mid-afternoon. Aislinn and miss Jameson are available, along with our guests. Of them, you'll recognize mister Leonard Ephesian. Matters of, er, personal faith have greatly troubled him of late - sufficiently to require protection."
Knowing who Katherine was, he didn't feel bad about using Preston's real name. "Mister Hauser is keeping an ear to the ground, as per usual. I suspect you'll meet our new strays when you'll arrive."
Nevermind how hunger wasn't something phone lines communicated, Bagley was as perceptive a headmaster as could be expected. "Shall I prepare something for you?"
He'd sounded much the same as during his house spirit years, but there was a smidgen of rediscovered vigor to his tone; something that felt less Steampunk AI and more Congenial Immortal.
* * *
"Of course," replied Archie, standing up. "I'll forward those additional files I've mentioned as soon as I return home. As I've explained, you'll find a great many dodgers, most of which will not fit your suspect's description. It could also be that I am mistaken and that our bully of policewomen is somehow very much mundane, but the local criminal spheres don't inspire me quite as much as the old paranoid fuddy-duddies the Vienna Council is acquainted with."
Saying this seemed to remind him of something, which them made him sigh and groan slightly. "Bugger," he said, "I suspect this means I'll have to make time for Forsythe's recriminations about my line of work..."
His lips twisted into a moue as he paused at the door. "Family," he said, giving the vampire a vaguely disgusted look.
* * *
Bob's reply was a snort that conveyed a bit of approval and a good measure of surprise. "I'd say Heck yeah," he said, "and I'd buy the guy a beer. Folks from Asmodeus' corner don't usually survive going Consensual, the lack of stimuli drives 'em nuts over time. I guess this Magnus guy found out what a lot of early Seducers did, way back when - that it's easier to cut back on forcibly-obtained mortal pleasure in small doses. Your balls-out orgies turn into just four partners, then three, then two; you get used to keying into actually decent oxytocin bursts and learn to appreciate peer-bonding..."
The Teacher then added hand-puppet gestures, indicating the process was a long and generally drawn-out one. "Who's the vessel?" he then asked, referring to Magnus' obtained body. "We heard about an escape from Belial's jail some time ago, but we didn't find anything to lock on to. No serious incursions, no obvious possession reports, nothing. Pitspawn don't usually skip town to cruise around your neck of the woods in non-corporeal form..."
He shrugged. "There was that one bit with a tryhard stealing Azorthagal's credentials, but we already know you took care of it," he added, giving Meris a thumbs-up.
"He reported his activity in your plane of existence," added Ahriman, "as a courtesy call towards us. The Physician liberally trades information between the Pit and the City, as he believes that the various ailments and curses he carries necessitate a counterpoint of health and vigor to have their intended effect. Ever since the Fall, he has never unilaterally favored either ourselves or the Goat's allies."
* * *
The cloak-wearing figure disappeared in one of the barracks, slipping away past Evergloam's walls thanks to a secret door expertly hidden among the circular wall's stones. Beyond Evergloam's ramparts waited the endless verdant fields of Summer, which were largely the same no matter from whence you came on the mortal plane. Rising hills, sloping valleys, noble trees heavy with mature leaves that could have been soaking in that endless summertime's daylight for eons on end, honeysuckle and clover on the wind... Something to the landscape felt as much like a slice of English countryside as it did like a chunk of Ireland, or even of Japan's countryside. Rolling hills were, after all, more or less universal.
The Gruff removed his hood and carefully unclasped the cloak, his ears swiveling this way and that, piercing golden eyes on a constant vigil.
"I must be brief, whelps," he said, somehow managing to make the word feel like a respectful adjective, "for thou hast stepped in shadows that doth dwell in brightest day. Delgado's web has its limits, aye, but the one who ensnares her knows none."
The Gruff's jaws worked, as if he were chewing cud. Here, though, the gesture seemed to express thoughtfulness. "Ask what you may, I will share what is mine. Know that mine knowledge is scarce: fain would I tell thee of the villain's guise, but I know of no such thing. I know he is resourceful, I know he wields power, and I know that Delgado is but a slave, held to manacles of fear. If thou wouldst free her, thou wouldst learn more. How you could free her, however..."
Percy sighed, his gaze lost in the immensity ahead as if he'd find the answer if he peered at the undulating fronds of grass and the occasional trills of birdsong that pierced the air.
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TennyoCeres84
- Site Admin
- Posts: 2934
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:59 am
Re: Chapter III: The Fall
Aislinn tilted her head thoughtfully and replied with a shrug. "I'll do what I can to help them. I'm not going to exceedingly blunt, but I figure speaking in a straightforward manner would help with their adjustment. No flowery crap. Make sure their social skills are decent enough and get them a focus, some sort of training for a job. After that, we'll have to see what they need."
***
"Thomas Quint's the vessel, the former joke Infernalist of Hope," Meris supplied. "Quint happened to steal a magical drum, and I showed up to see if I could help in some way. The main thing I did was turn a couple hundred of Belial's imps into a pulpy, icy mess. Aidan here and his friends showed up and got to deal with Quint when he was feeling cornered. His heart gave out, and the incubus showed up at the hospital in Quint's body. When I realized what had happened, I was initially worried that a demon had taken it over; however, I asked Matriel to look into it, who said the incubus wasn't really a threat. He cross-referenced it with Melmoth, who confirmed he knew about Magnus from his early days and his intentions for Hope. He wants to create a club as a neutral ground for everybody from all the realms to mingle peacefully and encourage alliances."
***
The two selkies looked at each other, and Neasa explained, "We're looking into Delgado on account of a friend's ruined past. He had everything taken from him, and he brought the case to Archie's attention."
"What do you know about her?" Ciaran asked. "Who is she working for?"
***
"Thomas Quint's the vessel, the former joke Infernalist of Hope," Meris supplied. "Quint happened to steal a magical drum, and I showed up to see if I could help in some way. The main thing I did was turn a couple hundred of Belial's imps into a pulpy, icy mess. Aidan here and his friends showed up and got to deal with Quint when he was feeling cornered. His heart gave out, and the incubus showed up at the hospital in Quint's body. When I realized what had happened, I was initially worried that a demon had taken it over; however, I asked Matriel to look into it, who said the incubus wasn't really a threat. He cross-referenced it with Melmoth, who confirmed he knew about Magnus from his early days and his intentions for Hope. He wants to create a club as a neutral ground for everybody from all the realms to mingle peacefully and encourage alliances."
***
The two selkies looked at each other, and Neasa explained, "We're looking into Delgado on account of a friend's ruined past. He had everything taken from him, and he brought the case to Archie's attention."
"What do you know about her?" Ciaran asked. "Who is she working for?"