You twist Order, but in the concentration of Order about you, it spirals out of control.  The floor becomes frictionless in the whole room.  A couple dozen people hit the ground as do the robots.

"Your foul magic has power, but reason will win out."  He spits.  And then he pulls a mechanical screwdriver from his pocket, and rams it into the wood floor.  With that, he's able to shove himself off, and bounce off several  people like a pool ball to arrive in the next room where Sherlock and Watson are waiting with interested looks.  Neither of them help Jonathon Brightley to his feet, so he scrambles up himself.

I would have expected a Chaos botch on Order magic. Not complaining mind you. That effect will work. Now I'm gonna Chaos the floor underneath my feet. Just underneath my feet. So I've got a 2 square foot patch under my feet that follows me around the room that's rough enough for me to walk on.



Speaking to him. "Your loss pal. I offered you metal that would never wear out or break."

Speaking to Holmes and Watson "You coming?"

And if so or if not I'm leaving.

What's going on outside?

(Doing Therapy)

Holmes and Watson bow stiffly to Dr. Jonathon Brightley who is organizing some rope with his other robots to rescue those trapped, and leave with you.

In the carriage, as you're leaving the well-lot Brightley House for the dark streets of London, Dr. Watson turns to you with a raised eyebrow.

"Magic?"

"Yup. Don't know how it happened. Just one day I was at the blacksmithing forge and I suddenly has these amazing magic powers. It goes along with this blacksmithing hammer somehow. I wish someone would explain how it happened. My personal thoughts are that the gods of Order and Chaos just randomly decide to give people these powers. I'm pretty open-minded, ya know."

"So what had his panties in a bunch?"

(Doing Therapy)

"Dr. Brightley is a member in good standing of the High Church of Reason, although he would not call it such.  He sees himself as merely reasonable.  Progress of Mankind is the thing, and the means is Science!  Magic is undemocratic, inegalitarian, and messy, and illogical.  Religious beliefs are all right, as long as they do not get in the way of Science.  They are especially useful for the dimmer sort, for those yokels who live in backwater locations, don't you know..."  Holmes grins nastily.  "If God exists, or your gods exist, Brightley expects them to submit to being examined in his laboratory."

"A very bright, but occasionally foolish man, not unlike someone else I know." Dr. Watson murmurs.

"I knew some people like that. They wouldn't believe in God unless they had Him on an autopsy table. I'm just wondering where my killer robot is at. I was really hoping to get his help with that thing. Those clockwork robots were impressive. How good is he with electronics? I guarantee that Terminator has schematics for itself. I'm starting to wonder if Brightly could duplicate it. Or at least some crude mockup....."

So where are we headed?

(Doing Therapy)

Holmes gives Watson a quick  glance.

"Elect-tron-icks.  We do not have this science, sir." Dr. Watson says.

You can sense a vector, which probably is your robot.

"Its late at night.  I thought you could sleep on the couch at our place, and find a bachelor's lodging in a boardinghouse tommorrow.  Its 221b Baker Street." Dr. Watson says.  Holmes snores as the carriage rolls on.

In reply to Eric (msg # 16):

"Brightly knows electronics. Don't you remember he had that door that opened automatically? He used something called an infrared eye. It uses a kind of light to tell distances and whatnot. Oh man, if he can duplicate the Terminator, you might as well just sign the deed to the planet over to him."

Well, I'm gonna hang with these guys until I wear out my welcome and they ask me to leave.

You go to sleep on the couch, and are startled awake by the screech of a violin.  Cracking your eyes open, you see that its just barely dawn,and Holmes is deeply contemplative and playing a violin.

Order the air around me so thick that it blocks the sound of his violin and go back to sleep.

He turns your way, and then turns back, and you go to sleep.

When you wake up you see a note of paper laying on your chest.

"Dear Magician/Time Traveller, due to your efforts, Dr. Watson is ready to promote you to sainthood.  If you wish to keep the couch, and board, the share is ten guineas a month, and you must buy your own potables.
--Holmes"

A sturdy looking woman is cleaning up a bit, but judiciously, leaving much of the mess behind.

"Would you be wanting breakfast, or lunch, Mr. Hammer?"

"Yeah, I could eat. And after that, can you point me to the nearest blacksmithing forge? I need to earn a living here."

But I'll fork over a few gold coins for what they have done so far. I wonder what Watson means by promoting me to sainthood......

At the forge, I want to make Holmes and Watson something out of black iron. Not sure what yet. Something they would find useful with some magical properties.

She bustles about, and brings you a pork chop covered in apples and sauce.  Next to it is candied carrots, and fried potato slices with sour cream.  A glass of red wine finishes the lunch.

"I know where some machinist's shops are, and of course, there is a goldsmith's down the street, sir."

She writes you out a neat receipt for the gold coins, and puts them in her purse.  Evidently she's your landlady.

First order of business would be to hunt down the T-800. It is (as far as I know) canon with the series that an electrical shock shuts down up to an 800 series Terminator for 180 seconds. (Watch The Sarah Connor Chronicles for details.) So, if you can sufficiently shock the thing, you put it down and have three minutes to pull its chip.

I'd like to think a guy with a Chaos hammer could shock it long enough to do that.

So, first thing to do. Find it. Shock the hell out of it. Pull its chip. Either it will stay or it will verse out. Either way is fine with me. The T-800 versed with me inside it when I pulled out the chip. But that says nothing for if the T-800 is inside it. I'm sentient, it's not. That could make all the difference.

Anyway, find, shock and disable the T-800 long enough to pull its chip and then see what happens.

(Doing Therapy)

You head into the darker and nastier part of London.  The streets are getting narrower, and the awnings overhead are crowding out more of the sun.

Beggars plead with you for alms.

And some guy brushes past you and is ten feet further on before you realize your pockets are lighter....

"FREEZE!!!!!"

And I mean it. I'm freezing his shoes to the ground so he can't run away. He'll be lucky to not have frostbite.

"Just give me back my stuff and you can walk away. No harm, no foul."

If he plays his cards right, I might even ask him to teach me how to do that, actually.

(That's said more so I don't forget.)

(Doing Therapy)

He's frozen to the ground, and he gasps in shock and pain.

"I'm sorry, master.  Don't know how they got into me pockets like that.  Things do that, ye know. Its pixies, I tell e."

He hands back the items stolen.

"Hey man, times are tough. We all gotta do what we gotta do. Tell ya what. You teach me how you do that and I'll let you go."



What did he take?

He blinks, and then he gets a shrewd look in his eyes.

"All right, guv'nor. Come along to a little pub."  He points a bit further down the street.  You think he's on the level, and so follow him to a small, rather dirty eatery and drinkery.

Watery beer, a loaf of brown bread, and butter are for the table.  The bar maid looks as big as you, and has a faced pocked with some disease long gone.

"You have big hands, working man's hands.  Useful for lifting boxes and crates, but tey get in da way when you're, ah, borrowing a wallet, if you taken my meaning.

He takes out a thin coin, and puts it on the table, edge on, and then he lets go.  It stands upright on its own.

"My old master taught me to do this.  He said you could find a still point in your soul, or you could see yourself like you're looking in a mirror, but in ye mind, ye see?  Either way would work, or if you can't, then there's the third method, but that involves beating someone with a stick until they get it right, and that's not what ye're after, is it now?"

I'm gonna remove the Chaos from her face. Make her look as beautiful as she possibly could. (Probably not much.) I'm not gonna tell her I'm doing it. Just gonna do it when she walks away or something. See how long it takes her to notice.



"Speaking of which, you know where a guy can find a blacksmithing forge around here?"

Gotta see if I can make Black Iron.



"Sounds psionic. Have you ever moved anything just by thinking about it?"

TK pulse the coin to make it roll over to him.

"You don't happen to know where a mercenary would go to offer up his skills, do you?"

(Doing Therapy)

She twitches, but she's so sunk into Enduring Mode of coping with life that little things don't get her attention.  But you see her face change, to pleasant looking, and so does your 'teacher' who opens his mouth wide and then carefully shuts it.

"Sigh On Ick.  I don't know this word, guv'nor."
"Heard tell of such, but..."  His eyebrows lift up when you pulse the coin, which he catches with quick,deft hands.

You hear some female convesation across the room, and then a startled yelp as the barmaid looks into a hand mirror wonderingly.

"Do she be paying with her soul for that their gift, guv'nor?"  Your current teacher is giving you a very narrow, mistrustful look.

"Psychic? ESP? Any of those words ring a bell?"



"So do you know of a blacksmithing forge?"


"Do you like it Barmaid?"


"Not with her soul. Maybe with her mouth."

Call the barmaid over. "Yes ma'am, I did that. And I figure one good turn deserves another. Do you know of any other ladies which might be interested in that type of service?"

Put gold in my pockets.

(Doing Therapy)

"Psychical Energies is what I've heard, guv'nor.  The other, not so much."

"I know of a machinist's shop."

He gets up, and goes to another barmaid.

The barmaid comes up to you, with glad tears in her eyes, and hands pressed to her face.

"Yes, master, yes.  I know of many girls afflicted with the pox in their youth."

The pickpocket comes back, and you see Order glinting in his right hand.  He tosses salt imbued with minor Order at you, but nothing happens.  He stares at you closely.

"I can do a lot of that."



"He'll probably have a forge. I want to learn machining anyway. Take me there later."



That's probably where he got the salt.



I was afraid she was gonna accuse me of black magic or something......

"I assure you my lady, you are not going to pay for that with your soul or your body. You are not going to pay at all, in fact." Point at her for emphasis. "Ladies will pay whatever they think it's worth, within what they can afford. And that might include, for example, doing laundry, maid's service or being a personal cook. Or any number of other practical services. Not with their soul, and certainly not with their bodies."

The Architect said sex between indigs and versers is a bad idea.

Holmes and Watson want me to pay my own way, right? I wonder what they will think when I bring home an army of servants. But give her that address and tell her to spread the word.




"Dude!!!!! Do you remember what I did to your feet? I can do that to all of you."

Completely freeze his beer mug.

Is salt inherently Orderly? Magehammer would probably know that by now. Or did he add Order to it?

I'm probably telling people my name is John though. I don't think Magehammer would fly very well in this kind of world.

(Doing Therapy)
This message was last edited by the player at 06:46, Thu 17 Apr 2014.

Two Post

Actually, I probably should amend that a bit. If Holmes and Watson want to enjoy the services of prostitutes, just as long as they count it as me paying my own way. I'm not gonna touch them though.

And when I get a second, I'm gonna ask the pickpocket if he'd like to spend the night with a prostitute. After he takes me to the machine shoppe, find himself a prostitute afflicted with the pox or some such other thing, I'll clear up her face, and then she's his for the whole night. Then we're done. My way of saying thanks for his help.

(Doing Therapy)
This message was last edited by the player at 08:24, Thu 17 Apr 2014.