Lucifer gains a disgusted sneer as he hears the Cutters' leader legged it. The only Exalt in this whole mess had proved to possess the least spine of all.

"Tch. His name? Let it be known that he will be a hunted man for the rest of his days."

As he listens to Jack Grin's request and - more importantly - regards the way his damage starts to show, his ponderous expression deepens. He glares silently as the Gorgons start coming out of the building by their leader's order.

"That would be spending extra resources just to offer your souls to the Void in a tin. The Last Refuge wages war with highly trained and disciplined professionals, not suicide squads."

His voice carries disdain, but for the first time there's an undertone of understanding mixed in. After he considers a bit, his tone starts shifting from intimidating - he'd shaken them enough to start molding - to inspiring. Understanding, even.

"I see something beyond your deathwish, however. I see a man broken by contact with the Dead - the Abyssal who maimed you did so more in spirit than flesh - and after something like that you've trudged on without hope or meaning, clutching at straws to survive and carve out something for yourself in a bleak world of despair. However..."

He gestures at the man, throwing a glance around the people gathered as something in his voice makes it feel like they're on the pages of the Good Book.

"You are not evil at your core, Jack Grin. I am not going to declare you and yours a monster, for that denies the choices you had. You have sinned, terribly, but right now you've shown a glimpse of the man buried under the trauma. You realize and admit you've done wrong, but facing retribution, you wished for a chance to strike back at the source of your pain. To do at least something meaningful, something right, in the end. And even as you've been thrown from the straight and narrow and to the wolves, you've tried to choose the lesser evil where possible."

A wide sweeping gesture goes out to the Gorgons even as he shoots a glance at Jeremy.

"You are not Legion, demons to be sent among the pigs. You are the demoniac, men afflicted by the Enemy, and I am here to cast it out."

Looking back at Jack, Lucifer lets a glimpse of Daniel show; a man who's Seen Shit more than most.

"You say you don't care, but in this moment that is no longer true. You've shown repentance. In the end, you wished to burn off your life for something meaningful, the best you can think a man like you could do with the hand he's dealt. Take that spark, Jack, but make it a torch rather than a wildfire. Take that hurt, that pain and anger, and channel it to something good. It's what I do."

His anima has slowly shifted from a terrifying sight into one inspiring awe, even hope, as his sermon continues. He casts his gaze to all, even the Cutters sobbing behind him.

"I understand your struggle. I did not come here to kill you, ultimately; I came to bring your lives of sin, of profiteering at the expense of others and taking from the world, to an end. The Cutters lying dead chose the short and easy path, but you can choose the long and narrow. Rise above your pain and misery. Carry it, but direct it at something wholesome. Break the cycle; others suffering will do nothing to alleviate yours."

"What you have here is a community focused on what divides it, fighting for scraps in a world without meaning. Rise above it and build something greater, together."

((1 Chi on Inspire: 20+20+10+5 = 55))
This message was last edited by the player at 11:50, Wed 21 Nov 2018.

"Gunnar Hagen."  The woman supplies.  She spits and starts to pick up fallen guns with the other women.

"All this is so fucking hard," Jack Grin deflates at the end of Lucifer's speech.  A decade's worth of pain held back begins to find release, shearing away the tough exterior he'd built up.  "Just sitting here.  Day in.  Day out.  Nothing to do.  Half the people sold themselves to us because they just wanted to not live on nutrient paste once a day, you know?  And I don't fucking blame them.  There's just, there's nothing we can do.  Nothing we do any more matters much.  I mean no fucking offense but Cutters opened up on you with a gun that blows holes in armored cars and it never even got within a meter of you, so fighting's out.  Tons of gods and demons do manual labor better than us.  Most of us ain't smart enough for much else.  We want to do something besides being like... stumbling children.
 We just don't know what anymore.  We don't know if there's anything left to build, just... if there's stuff to scrape together."

Jeremy has begun taking off his shirt and inspecting his wound.  From a glance Lucifer knows that it's not fatal- painful, assuredly, and he'll bleed quite a bit.  The bullet has creased his side, shaving off some fat and muscle, but simple coagulants and bandages will keep him intact.

Daniel nods in understanding.

"It is understandable to feel left out, insignificant and lost. We are - all of us, Human, God and Demon - thrust into something unfamiliar and terrifying, torn from our roots and into a life of constant struggle. The difficult truth is that there are no easy answers, no solutions I can give you that will make that looming bleakness disappear. Not completely."

He wears a sympathetic frown as he regards the people gathered.

"It is true that most Gods, Demons and Exalts are stronger and more powerful than you on an individual level. It's hard not to feel discouraged when most things you can do can be done better with little effort by someone else. However!"

He holds a finger in the air.

"The power of mortals is threefold. One: versatility. While Gods and Demons may be better at whatever they're made for, it is often at the cost of most everything else. Sure, a Blood Ape is superior physically, but the ones who aren't complete idiots can be counted with two hands. A god may have miraculous powers and stamina in their purview, but their focus often comes with lack of vision for anything else. A human may not possess the raw talent or magical power that magical creatures do, but neither do we possess their limitations or weaknesses."

A second finger is raised.

"Two: potential. A god or demon's path is set from the moment of their creation, but a human can choose their path. This is the reason only humans are capable of Exaltation, but it benefits each individual. While this is a double-edged sword in that it allows us to get lost like you, it is also a source of strength. We get to define our meaning, we get to decide what to do with the life we're given."

The complete version would include the Loom of Fate and how it would normally govern the lives of mortals - but now most everyone was affected by Abyssal interference to some degree, so the point remained.

Three fingers.

"Three: humans are the backbone of the Living. Without mortals, the gods would wither with no one to worship them. Demons would have no one to tempt, feed on, or possess and would quickly devolve into stagnant infighting and be forgotten. Us Exalts may be mighty, but we are a mere handful; while none of you may fight me and win, without the Living Fleet us Exalts would end up overwhelmed. Without you, our cause is hollow and meaningless."

He heaves a sigh, casting a solemn gaze among the crowd.

"The truth is, all of us are scraping by. Each and every one, myself included. I won't deny my extraordinary privilege, but know that for all my strength I still feel daunted by the enormity of the Neverborn and their thralls that I'm bound to fight tooth and nail until my dying breath. And I wouldn't have it any other way. But all told, my burden is easy compared to yours. You are the ones everything ultimately depends on. Individually you may feel powerless, but as groups - as one - you are the only ones that matter in the end. So while I understand your despair, I implore you - don't give up. All this hardship is a grueling test, and if against all odds you endure, one day it will pass. One day all this suffering will have meaning as we settle the New World. But only if, on that day, we remain human. So scrape together. Endure. Wrest the light from these dark depths. I can't give you any surefire way to success, but what I do know is the only way you stand a chance of finding it is if you come together. Surely there's something you as a community have that you can work on. Pool your resources, find common ground, find what you have that sets you apart from your neighbors and capitalize on it."

((Inspire: 33+20+10+5 = 68

Pale Flower in a Putrid Marsh: Major Water Inspiration (Hyperactivity, Action Bonus).
The people of <whatsthisplace> are inspired to move beyond their petty squabbles and despair toward compassion and thriving together. They gain an Action Bonus when acting in the interest of the community rather than just themselves, organizing business ventures and working together, finding something to both fill their empty days and profit together from it - only to spend those profits for the good of the community. They will find that sharing not only brings greater profits, but light into their previous lives of despair!))
This message was last edited by the player at 22:29, Mon 26 Nov 2018.

His speech catches the attention of a lot of people.  In particular it slows down one of the sex slaves, who was just about to shove the barrel of an assault rifle into one of the mouths of the Cutter.  She looks angry and confused but she does give a short nod.

Though she doesn't remove the barrel.

"A lot of trains come through here,"  One of the Gorgons finally speaks.  Jack Grin is too emotionally stricken to really react.  "From both the Underdecks and Upperdecks.  We could, uh... uhmm..."

"Bazaar?"  Another one adds.  "A lot of that's trade...  not sure how that helps anyone though, just makes the Upperdecks richer..."

"Specializing in human leather goods?"  The sex slave with the assault rifle sneers.

"When He was reviled, did not revile in return; when He suffered, He did not threaten, but committed Himself to Him who judges righteously."  Jeremy says to the woman, "I'm not saying you should forgive him right now.  Forgiveness is hard.  But you should allow him the chance to face justice and repent."

"Easy for you to say.  Easy for both of you to say.  They get away with this for free?  Where were you when he was raping me?  What gives you the right to say that?  Or you the right to keep me from giving him justice?"

Daniel's eyes settle on the woman with a look that's surprisingly devoid of superiority or command.

"Nothing. Not all sins can be forgiven, not everyone deserves a second chance in this life. If you feel it's the only way for him to pay, pull the trigger. But do it with purpose, not mere passion."

He glances at the man she's drawing on for a moment before returning to the woman with an air of genuine apology.

"I am not God. I am not omniscient or omnipresent. When he was violating you I was somewhere else, unaware. For that, I am truly sorry. And for that, you are entitled to justice. I have no right to withhold revenge from you, but as someone who's walked down that path, I only ask you to consider."

He regards the crowd before continuing.

"The truth is this community is about to turn over a new leaf. If you kill him now, you risk upsetting that fragile balance. He might have family or friends that will seek revenge on you in turn. At the same time, I do not expect all grievances, all injustices that happened before this point, to be forgiven at my command."

Turning back to the woman, he holds out his hand with the palm up.

"So this is my proposal: Don't just shoot him. Announce his transgressions and why he's not fit to live in your reformed community. Make your case to the community and punish him with their backing, be it with a bullet, a beating, exile or community service. But do it together with them, otherwise you will not have their protection or legitimacy to avoid revenge in turn."

His expression becomes more grave, then.

"Or you can just shoot him. But then you will have put your own justice over that of the community, and while I won't judge you for it, they might. Should that still be your wish, I will escort you away from here safely but from there you'll have to carve out a new life on your own."

He extends his hand toward the other liberated slaves as well.

"This offer goes for all of you. It's up to you to decide if you wish to be part of this new community or take your revenge and leave. But one way or the other, the cycle ends here."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 09:33, Tue 27 Nov 2018.

The woman snarls and draws her barrel out from his mouth.  The man starts to cry from relief- only seconds before she clubs him in the mouth with the butt of the gun.  A few times.  Blood, teeth, and strangled screams fill the air before devolving to burbling whimpering.  She takes a deep sigh, "I'm going to LOVE explaining to his family and friends what a piece of shit he is."

With that the vengeful energy in the air starts to collapse.  The Cutters keep their hands in the air while their slaves (for the most part) take in a few cathartic kicks in the ribs.  Meanwhile, the indentured servants of the Gorgons have begun to leave.  They're in much, much better shape than the sex slaves, true to Jack Grin's word, though they look tired, a bit too thin, the marks of heavy labor on their bodies.  One of the indentured women has her arm in a cast, while an indentured man's arms are black up to the elbows with some weird stain.  They don't seem nearly as inclined to beat the unholy hell out of the Gorgons but they're certainly not giving them a helping hand either.

"I think things will be okay," Daniel hears one of the other indentured murmur to the man with the black hands.

Daniel nods in acknowledgment at the woman's decision before turning away from her. As the situation starts to de-escalate he exhales steadily from his nose - an actual sigh of relief would be unbecoming of him in the situation.

He turns to Jeremy.

"You seem to know your scripture, Jeremy, and it seems you strive to live by it as well. Priests in the family? Nonetheless - you did well today, but you also got lucky. Don't rely on it being the case in the future."

The man with black arms catches his eye.

"What's with that man's hands?"

"I'm actually a youth pastor."  Jeremy tells him, "I didn't count on luck, just- if I didn't act, who would?  It was the only chance they had."  He glances at the servant with black arms, "Ah, that's dye.  Made from ground-up dead sesseljae.  It's pretty smelly stuff.  They use it like paint down here.  At this point that might as well be a tattoo, it won't come off for years."

"Words to live by. You're a good man, Jeremy. Hold on to that and guide these people toward the same."

He gains a somewhat surprised frown at the explanation but then shrugs.

"Huh. Less than sanitary, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers. Hopefully you'll get less hazardous materials to work with in time."

With that, his work here is just about done. He gives some final words of encouragement to Jeremy, Jack and the rest before sending word that the conflict has been settled, then sees if he can't track down the coward Dragon-Blood who'd fled. It'd be a while before the Railway was back in business, after all.

He goes inside the building and down through the floor, relying more on his intuition and sense for Essence than traditional tracking methods.

((Wu Wei for tracking: 37+15+10 = 62))

"Faith without works is dead.  Good luck, uh, Lucifer."

He gets a good idea where the renegade has run:  deep into the underdecks, full of tiny microvillages, hidden-away communities, and the like.  He knows well enough from here that he could track the man, absolutely.  He's left a trail long enough to know his general location.  But he's had a hell of a head start, and judging by the sooty footprints he's left behind he's the speedy kind of Dragon-Blooded who's also smart enough to not turn off the speed once he's out of a predator's eyesight.

In short, Lucifer COULD track him down... if he wants to take a few days doing so.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:15, Sat 01 Dec 2018.

Hmh. Even if he was willing to throw the rest of his "day off" into the drain, something more important would no doubt come up before he did find the man. Guess he was off the hook this time, but at least he'd have to find a new livelihood. The community he'd reformed seemed like it would be able to resist his influence going forward. He does send a note to Smoker about the renegade Dragon-Blooded's name and crimes so his life of crime would be made more difficult where possible - or abruptly ended, should he ever happen to appear in Lucifer's sight.

With that time sink avoided, it was time to resume travel toward the Reactor.

The train starts up again and Lucifer is back on the way!  Thins are mercifully quiet for a good stretch of the way.  Eventually he gets close to the Reactor Torque, a shifting maelstrom of steel and girders that's too hazardous for anyone that WAL doesn't like to approach.  It's more wyld than ruin, more temple than facility.  Once he passes by the point of no return, the path to the reactor lights up.  A golden alley opens, twisting and spiraling off into the distance.  Taking a single step causes a chime to echo throughout the Torque, silencing the grinding of steel and sparking of electricity.  The second step, third step brings more sound, a muted marimba mixed with the plucking of strings.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:12, Mon 03 Dec 2018.

Hm. It'd been a while since his last visit, but at least WAL didn't seem mad enough to hit him with a girder. Possibly due to how little of a difference it would make if she did.

After the din of battle and mute screeching of the Great Railway the music of this small pocket of the Wyld is a welcome, if simultaneously unsettling and alien change for the serene. He keeps pace, destination clear in mind.

As he heads down the path, the music starts to get louder, then swell.  He notes the path curving in odd directions and faint singing as he walks.  Oh.  Wait.  Yep, there it is. "Follow the yellow brick road... follow the yellow brick road..."

Behind him are hundreds of little White Arcing Lightnings, the little goblins holding hands and skipping behind him merrily.

Oh. Yeah, there it was. Annoyance was a much more powerful weapon than girders.

Daniel does his very best to ignore the swarm gathering behind him as he keeps walking. He keeps his gaze slanted down, partly to make sure his boots weren’t turning red.

Oh, it's much too late for that, they've already turned red.

"Follow follow follow follow~"

By a quick estimate now there are thousands trailing off behind him, all smiling and holding hands and skipping.  Every single one of them are staring at him, locking eyes as he looks back.

Eventually he finds out that there are thousands more ahead of him, curving off into the distance.  Either he's walking in a giant circle and has reached the back of his entourage or she's gotten enthusiastic and started to generate some far in front of him.

Regardless he can feel the pull of the Wyld ahead.  His clothing's turned a blue gingham, too, though at least it's still masculine; there's limits to what she can actually do to him before she hits the hard reality that her Wyld is nothing compared to the power of the Sun.

Eventually he reaches the sealed double-door that leads to the perfect spherical center of the Reactor.

Welp.

She knew just the line to skirt when it came to annoying him; Enough to perturb, not quite enough to provoke a strong reaction like extending his order-affirming aura outward from his body.

He stops by the door for a moment, sighing heavily but unable to prevent a slight incredulous smirk from surfacing as he puts a hand on the doors.

  “I’m here to see the Wizard. Or Sorceress, as it were.”

"It is I!  The gReEaATT and POWerrFUFLL WAL!"

The door opens up and Daniel is allowed to step in.  White Arcing Lightning is feeling a bit bored today, if he's any judge.  A body of alabaster, clothed in white silk, with a beauty and proportions that'd make Helen of Troy look like a crone floats in the center of the featureless white globe of the reactor.

"Let me guess!  You're here to beg for a brain!"

She spins in place, looking down at him, floating upside down so her frown looks like a smile.

"It's been a while, my host.  Come to bring me back my Sword yet?"

While he's unable to keep his eyes from wandering, Daniel remains composed as the door closes behind him.

"I would sooner take your Heart."

He has a half-smirk on his face, signifying he's both joking and serious.

"Maybe I could use it to teach you something about how it feels to have it toyed with."

He crosses his arms in front of him.

"I hear you've been making some visits."

"Aww, you're so sweet,"  She says as she floats over to him upside-down, "But you shouldn't be one to talk about toying with hearts, naughty Solar."  She taps his chest from 6 feet away, though her arm doesn't stretch.  "Some visits?  I have a million goblins wandering around and reporting to me!  Oh and some Fae kinda-sorta-nobles.  But they're all me, too, reproducing is... so hard."  She purses her lips, which might make a normal mortal start foaming at the mouth. "Especially without a Ring and Sword!  My Cup runneth over but you need some sort of thought of selfhood to make more not-selves, you know?"

She then pops a wide, sly grin,  "Soooooooo how are you doing hubby?"

Daniel is a little bit taken aback by the remote touch at first... but hey, it’s the Wyld. Stranger things have happened.

”Just your standard human stuff, I suppose. Seeking love and companionship. Struggling for purpose. Finding camaraderie... Reproducing, apparently.”

It’s more bombastic than he’d normally be, but... That was how it worked here. And her sly grin fulfilled its purpose, most likely. It was always a little struggle for who was jealous to whom.

”I suppose one of those thousands just happened to blow up at Anna, then?”

"Entirely possible.  I can't leave here!  Not easily.  And all of my 'children' don't always report back."  She admits with an almighty shrug that lifts and separates and heaves. "Oh, so you finally had a kid?  Without me?" She sighs and puts the back of her hand against her forehead, "And who is this lucky woman?  It's not Anna, that's for sure!  Perhaps a frail mortal woman who's tended your wounds, slowly the two of you grew to love, you had a night of passion, she carries your child to term- wait, when's the last time you got hurt?"

She pauses from her reverie,

"Oh, time doesn't matter, they grow up so quickly nowadays!"

"That sounds altogether too wholesome to happen to me."

His tone isn't even salty. He only realizes something like that would normally be considered self-deprecation, but to him something so normal and healthy just felt more unattainable than most of his impossible heroics. He leans his shoulder on... something, apparently, as he uncrosses his arms and holds his palm up.

"No, it was an unplanned date with Sondok. And an unplanned child at that. Just found out today, in fact... And growing up quickly might indeed be expected."

He sighs deeply, making it clear he's still not quite sure what to think of the whole mess.

"I did manage to break my hand when apprehending Anna. That only really happened after the combat wards wore off, though."

"Sondok.  SONDOK." The Fae lands on her feet and puts her hands on her hips,  "I mean, I can see it, just, I dunno, if you wanted a warrior girl you could've let me know?  I could totally do that.  Just need a sword and a shield and a LOT of leather."

She giggles a bit,

"Oh fuck now I'm thinking about a little you.  'Don't talk to me or my son ever again', hahahahahahahaha!  Long hair, dour expression, shining gold..."

"There's little you couldn't be. Never really pegged you for a Cataphract, though."

Her description does run through his mind, but he quickly perishes the thought.

"Either way I think the whole thing was less about me having a type she fit and more about the opposite. Not that I resisted, but she took initiative for both the date and the... child. So much so she apparently had a god of miscegenation involved."

As WAL goes on to describe a mini-Daniel he puts a hand on the bridge of his nose, exasperated but unable to not be amused.

"If only. Part of me is concerned she's just trying to fill the void the loss of Biryu left with this."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 09:59, Wed 12 Dec 2018.