There comes a time in every man's life when he finds himself totally, utterly, completely...

bored.

It's a quiet day on the Last Refuge.  No fires rage.  No demons brawl.  Men and women, gods and devils, cats and dogs live quietly, if not peacefully.  Even White Arcing Lightning is showing considerable restraint, caught up in some sort of week-long busywork that could only mean trouble later on.

But for now, there's nothing.  On these sorts of days- which have gotten rarer- he's usually visited by Smoker, who usually tells him to relax or otherwise takes care of him like a concerned father.  But today his oldest friend is busy, probably poring over the hundreds of reports.

Maybe Smoker will send him something for the day.  Maybe.  But since it's 10 AM and he's gotten nothing, it's likely Smoker has decided he shouldn't bother Daniel.

Daniel's sparse, spartan apartment has been dusted, cleaned, and the refrigerator restocked- all with food he doesn't like.  The cleaning staff must be new, too, because they've touched his armory bench and moved his tools around into what they think must be a more orderly configuration.

No news is terrible news.

Daniel had recently finished all the worthwhile books he had borrowed, taken care of any duties he could think of that wouldn't cause more trouble if he got involved... He'd even taken a proper shower. What was there left to do??

As he exits the shower, towel around his waist, he looks around the apartment with a peeved frown. He'd had the stuff just as he liked them!

Readjustment doesn't take long due to the sparsity of his furniture, barely enough for him to dry off and get dressed. After that he checks the clock - past ten, means Smoker most likely wasn't coming... Which meant he was all alone with nothing to do! Which meant the wrong kind of food in his fridge was actually worth caring about, as he couldn't just chow down whatever was there before hurrying off on a mission.

Time for a visit to the store, then.

Wait... Where was the nearest store?
...Were there even convenience stores here?
A decade's time and he hadn't actually ever memorized the nearest place to get groceries, much less visited it. He was pretty sure there was something, though... Well, better check just in case. He turns toward the biggest screen in the apartment.

"Where's the nearest grocery store?"

His big-screen CTV flickers alive with a familiar logo:  a glass sphere with a blue flame inside.

"CORE INSIDE~~~!"  The TV chimes in an aggressively cheery manner that Daniel is pretty sure Core chose just to fuck with people.  In particular:  him.

"The nearest grocery is the Steam Market, three floors down, two floors skinward."  The CTV shows a map directing Daniel from his apartment down the hallway through a public-access turbolift and down a few other warrens.

Daniel's been to the Steam Market... once.  He had been chasing a void demon through there and trashed half the place.  His clothes had smelled like curry, chili peppers, and cabbage for a week afterwards.

"If you're looking for fresh food, you may also attempt the Hydroponics section, six floors up." Ah, yes, hydroponics, where he'd... cornered that one serial killer who'd been dissolving people into the hydroponics solution...

Daniel is half-convinced that the opening chime is louder and more annoying in his apartment specifically.

He looks through the suggested routes. He'd sort of set his mind on grocery shopping, and while fresh produce would be nice, it'd been a while since he'd had a decent meat dish. Would Steam Market even have that? Well, it was the Upperdecks, so chances were decent. He could seek out a restaurant or diner of some sort if he turned up empty, but he could use some basic supplies anyway. Supposing they got that load-bearing pillar he'd broken fixed, it was right by the meat section...

That, and now that he remembered the Void Demon he'd slain there, he realized he was past due a for a hygiene check in the Steam Market. Those Void Demons had a bad habit of leaving some bad shit brewing where they were killed - less so for those slain by him due to Ghost-Eating Technique, but still a non-zero chance.

"Steam Market it is. Send directions to my PDA."

"Sending now.  Summer Sale now active."  The CTV chirps twice and sends him the directions, then intones "Will you need anything else today?".

The Steam Market would indeed have meat, there's even a specialty butcher that lovingly raises its own animals for slaughter.  Of course the prices are astronomical but if it's one thing Daniel has, it's cash.  Whether or not there'll be any by the time he gets there is another matter.  Some of the richer, more extravagant beings on the deck also do like their high quality meat...

"Incoming call.  Incoming call.  Incoming call."

Daniel was actually very much not used to spending money; what he needed he was usually provided for free by a friend or ally, or he acquired it himself through other means. That also explained why he had so much of it just sitting around, though. He rarely had the chance to spend it on anything frivolous like he was about to, because anytime he tried to, a crisis would-

He discards his idle thoughts instantly as he picks up the call.

”Lucifer.”

"CONGRATULATIONS [lucifer]!  YOU HAVE WON AN ALL-EXPENSES PAID TRIP TO THE UPPERDECKS [spring resort] [floor five] NEAR THE [third neomah tower]!  ALL YOU HAVE TO DO TO CLAIM YOUR TRIP IS RESPOND WITH YOUR CREDIT NUMBER, YOUR FIRST NAME, LAST NAME, AND COREID!  TO CLAIM PRESS 1.  TO SPEAK WITH AN AGENT PRESS 2.  TO UNSUBSCRIBE PRESS 3!"

There’s a moment of incredulousness. How the hell did a spam call manage to reach his number? He would be more annoyed if he wasn’t so confused.

He closes the call, shaking his head as he winds down from action mode. What was he doing again? Right, the grocery shopping.

He sets about getting his things together and gets moving toward Steam Market.

Down the hallway, first left- his pad keeps directing him down the unfamiliar corridors.  How did he get down there last time?  He certainly doesn't remember the route.

Ah, but a public access lift, now that's another thing.  He steps in and finds there's someone already there:  a teenage girl, 15 at the oldest if he's any judge, clutching a bouquet of flowers.

She gives him a friendly smile, "What floor?"

Daniel wonders why the trip seems so unfamiliar, but quickly recalls the reason to be that last time the route was a bit more direct. The right through multiple floors, everything's falling apart and/or on fire kind of direct. That'd explain it.

He looks down to the girl and her bouquet with a friendly-ish expression (he'd been trying to rein in his expressions in public after having a few too many people read into what wasn't there), slightly confused as he could just push the right button himself.

"Three floors down."

"Got it!"  She says cheerily as she presses the button.  The doors start to close and she glances over at him.  Then she really looks.

"Oh.  My.  Gawd."  Bright baby blues blink briskly.  "You're Daniel Matthews!  Lucifer!"  She drops her bouquet and starts jumping up and down, her hands on her mouth, "Omigawd omigawd omigawd!  I'm your biggest fan!  Ok maybe that's a lie nobody can be a bigger fan than my friend Cammy but I'm such a big fan and can I have an autograph!  No, wait!  Can I have some of your hair!  No, wait!~  Can I get a kiss!"  She advances on him in the elevator, "I can't believe this is happening to mee~~~!~~!"

By the time Daniel realizes the gravity of the situation the doors have already closed behind him. A part of his mind immediately begins to wonder just how bad it would be to just tear them open...

He crosses his arms in a neutral gesture, attempting to make it difficult for the smitten teen to barge too deep into his personal space. His tone is bordering on stern but not hostile; it’s just a kid, after all.

“I’m not a popstar. Being a fan is irrelevant. If what I do inspires you, though, I’m glad. And that is more valuable than any souvenir or superficial affection.”

"You're suuuuuuuper inspiring," She says with gleaming eyes, "I had the biggest- um- never mind!" She tries to give him a hug anyway, "You saved my mom, ten years ago. I think it was at Rome, at the Vatican."

Boy, that brings back memories- Lucifer and another Exalt, a Solar Catholic priest named Father Paulus, had sealed off Saint Peter's Square.  Ancient wards thrummed and held the Abyssals at bay, and the Last Refuge had begun the loading process.  Unfortunately the wards couldn't hold up to a half-dozen of Yama's Abyssal acolytes.  The wards fell, Lucifer fought off the ghosts long enough to save what was left of the refugees, and Father Paulus...

Father Paulus died trying to save a knot of demons who couldn't enter the square because of the wards.  He had felt personally responsible.

"So, like..." She tries to give him a bigger hug.

The first hug goes awkwardly as Daniel tries not to block it outright but not encourage the girl either. Then what she says sends him unexpectedly on a trip down memory lane.

His brief co-operation with Father Paulus had been something of a formative experience. The priest was a good man; too good to live long in what the world had become. His sacrifice was one part of what had made him reconsider the role of demons in Creation, as living beings rather than just necessary tempters and adversaries.

The girl would have had to be there to be here now, but she would've been what, five at most?

He uncrosses his arms, letting the girl succeed on her second attempt. He even goes as far as to pat her head and ruffle her hair a bit.

"I remember. Glad we could help."

"Well, thank you.  And thank you for keeping on saving us.  We all love you for it."  She takes a deep sniff of his hair.  "Oh, no... I dropped my flowers."  She finally breaks from Lucifer and goes to a knee to start picking up the flowers. "My mom'll be so upset, she worked so hard to put together that bouquet!"

“That’s good to hear. You’re welcome.”

He lets the hair-sniffing pass without reaction, then crouches to help with gathering the flowers.

“It’ll be fine. What’s the occasion?”

"It was a special order, for-"

The doors open.  There's a crowd of paparazzi outside, taking dozens of pictures of Lucifer starting to crouch to help a teenager picking up flowers, kneeling in front of him- the camera flashes start strobing faster.

"Mr. Lucifer!  Mr. Lucifer! Look this way please!"

"Miss what's your name!  What's your name!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:33, Thu 26 July 2018.

There’s a sharp inhalation but Daniel keeps a nonplussed expression. This wasn’t his floor yet, right? Please say he wasn’t supposed to get off from the elevator here.

He quickly gathers what he can while addressing the girl with a lowered voice. “Please ignore the carrion eaters. This isn’t how you want to become famous.”

Oh god.  This is his floor.  His indicator is directing him out the door and towards the Steam Market.

The girl blushes hard and turns away from the door as soon as she gathers up the flowers.  This only makes the paparazzi more desperate.  It's like throwing blood in the water.

"Sir!  Over here sir!  What are you doing in the Steam Market!  What's her name!  Sir!"

A frown crosses over his features as the piranha swarm gathers and the only way is through. He throws a glance at the wall to check if the poor girl was going to another floor, then gives her a little apologetic smile and nod as goodbye before turning to command the swarm’s attention elsewhere. If she’s going to another floor he makes sure the doors close without paparazzis slipping in; if she’s getting off here he gently nudges her forward and to the side as he makes a grand, sweeping gesture toward the Steam Market to draw eyes off her.

“Routine checkup. Killed a Void Demon here some time ago, double-checking for any taint left over. Now if you’ll excuse me...”

He starts making his way through the crowd. Might be a good time to test his newfound ability to mask his presence soon, but not before the girl was away from the spotlight.

She doesn't make a move to leave, instead moving to close the door. Daniel manages to keep the horde away as the door closes, though they keep on trying to take pictures over his shoulder.

"I remember that!" One of the horde shouts.  Oh Sol, this one isn't just a paparazzi... he's a reporter.  "Lucifer, can I have a few moments of your time!  Can we talk!"

The crowd starts parting for him, but only grudgingly.

Ah, journalists. Where paparazzis were perpetual bottom-feeders, always a pain but rarely more than a nuisance, reporters had the potential to be much greater in either direction.

After the door closes, he takes off toward the Steam Market at a brisk pace, not quite fast enough to be considered running away but still enough to make following a chore for a geared-up member of the media.

"About what?"

"Mark Gravine, Underdecks 52A News Network,"  The reporter can barely believe it, "Is it true that you assaulted another Exalt after a successful operation?" He holds his smartphone up towards Lucifer, "Is it also true this was the impetus for the creation of an Admiralty Board?  What do you have to say about the Born King movement?"

As the reporter gets his phone out, Daniel finally finishes the subtle ritual to mask his presence from non-living things such as cameras. With that reassurance in mind and the questions somewhat striking a nerve, he ends up giving a bit more than he probably should.

"Brahe was being a dick as always, so under the stress of the situation I stooped to giving him some direct feedback. I have no doubt the craven worm is using it to further his schemes, just like everything else."

He raises a brow at the last part.

"The Born King Movement?"

"Direct feedback?" The reporter brings his mic closer to Lucifer, walking backwards through the market, "And it was Brahe?  Interesting!  Ah, yes, the Born King Movement says that instead of the Admiralty Board and the Senate we should be giving all the power to the Exalts who've kept us alive.  As a senior Exalt you would be one of those in direct charge.  What do you think?"

Daniel pushes the mic away from his face gently but firmly, giving a quick glance of warning at the reporter. "A single punch in the face. No more, no less."

He keeps walking in long strides, making it a struggle for the reporter to keep up walking backwards.

"Exaltation is power. It may be strength, speed, cunning, intelligence or magical abilities, but it is not necessarily wisdom or ability to govern. Some among us might make for brilliant rulers but just as many would be egotistical tyrants. I say leaders should be selected based on their wisdom, benevolence and ability to work for the betterment of the Living as a ruler, not their power."

"But they're saying-  oof!-"  The reporter pinballs off of a cabbage salesman, who barely manages to keep a hold of his hydroponically grown brassicas, "- that your power is literally divine.  Literally!  So could you say that the people put into place are similarly placed?"

This gets a double take even from a carrot vendor.  Another vendor hurries over to Lucifer with a bag of hot peanuts, dusted with salt and some sort of spicy powder.

Oh boy, now the man got him going.

"Divinity is a much more nuanced term today when gods and demons live side by side with men than it was before the curtain fell back on Earth. Exaltations were created and given by the Incarnae and the Yozi, beings of divine cosmic power. An Exaltation is divine, the powers granted by it are divine, but an Exalt is a mortal infused with supernal power, no more, no less. An Exaltation gives many powers well beyond the realm of mortal men, but the way these powers manifest is highly dependent on the individual and it does NOT make us inherently more fit to rule, more moral, or in any way "better people". More powerful and as such more clearly useful to the Living, sure, but painting us all with the same brush, good or bad, is a bad idea. If some of us are to be Leaders of the Living, let it be because we prove ourselves worthy in deed and character, not because of a claim to some nebulous mantle of Divinity."

He emphasizes his message by taking a small handful of nuts from the merchant offering them and giving them a taste.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:56, Mon 30 July 2018.

The reporter takes the statement, and most of the Steam Market quiets long enough to hear the speech.  There's some murmurs of assent by the end, but they seem... oddly entranced watching him eat the peanuts.

Oh god, they're so spicy.  It's like they've been dusted by the capsaicin fairy.

" 'Worthy in deed and character'- excellent, thank you sir."  The reporter nods to him appreciatively, "And one last question, one last question!  Who's your favorite other Exalt to work with!"

Daniel ends up having a dramatic pause, complete with a few blinks and a little cough as the capsaicin assaults him. He keeps a poker face, though.

”Anyone who gets the job done. Good day, Mr. Gravine.”

"But who, sir?  There has to be one.  Or do you mean they're unreliable?"

Oh Sol Invictus, the burning intensifies.  The merchant watches with a bright, hopeful smile.  Now that Lucifer might be paying better attention he sees the merchant is South Asian, probably Thai.  The peanuts are delicious, yes.  They may in fact be the most delicious thing he will ever taste again.  Because his taste buds are probably gone.

No wonder all the other merchants are watching him.  This guy's peanuts must have a reputation.

"Many are reliable, but not everyone in every situation. It'd be like picking a favorite tool from the toolbox; some might be more reliable and used more often than others, but the right choice ultimately depends on the task to be accomplished."

As he steps ahead, he notes the myriad eyes on him. See, normally he'd just admit his mouth was on fire and seek out a drink of milk, but now the situation had become a challenge.

So he steels his resolve, locks eyes with the merchant, grabs some more nuts and consumes them without breaking eye contact.

((Hardiness vs. Mouth Napalm: 37+15+5+10 = 67))

"Thanks. They're good."

He throws a 'yeah, I did it' glance at the gathered crowd before resuming his stride.

"So they're tools in a toolbox, and you're the mechanic," The reporter tries out, tapping his lips with a finger.

The merchant smiles broadly as Lucifer takes a handful and eats them.  Well, this isn't a challenge to him (though the others might differ).  He looks like a little kid who's just met Santa, even after he thought he wasn't real.  The merchant starts yelling at the other merchants in Thai, pointing at one or two in particular, then at Lucifer.

The gist of it probably being something like 'I told you it's not too hot'.

Then Lucifer pushes past, but not before the merchant just shoves a whole paper bag full of them into his hands.

”Certainly not. I’m just one of the bigger tools. Don’t run too far with the analogy though, we have our own wills. My point was that it takes all kinds and my personal preferences are secondary to the common good of the Living. Now, you’ve had your few moments and I must set my mind on what I came here to do. Good day.”

He stashes the nuts - they should make a nice gift for unwanted visitors or some such. He also makes a note to get some milk or ice cream at his earliest convenience too, though.

Unless something disturbs him (and however could such a thing happen), he starts pacing through the market, multitasking his two objectives: scanning for leftover Void Demon taint with his third eye and looking for meat and condiments with the other two.

((Roll Awareness for void demon taint check))

The reporter knows well enough to leave him alone at this point.  Lucifer is finally left alone, if only for a few minutes.  Most people step away from him, giving him a bit of extra room.

Switching to his third eye is always difficult.  He's not as practiced at it as he'd like, and detecting void-tainted demons has always been a bit more difficult, doubly so because he's looking for some delicious food.

Oh, hey.  A sausage cart, with a full range of sausages on the fire!  They smell quite delicious, and the cart operator looks to be quite the shifty sort.  Usually this means they're very good sausages.

((Wu Wei for Void Taint: 29 +15 +10 = 54
Awareness for meaty goodness: 25 ))

Looking for Void taint wasn’t too bad - or rather, when it was about something actually potentially important, he had no problem giving it his best.

Casual shopping for no reason in particular was another matter, though. The last time he’d done something like this was... probably some day on Earth.

The sausage stall is the first thing he finds - or more accurately, stumbles upon - so it’d do. Otherwise people would start noticing him looking lost. He walks closer for a better look.

Wow, and... he hits jackpot.  Technically.  Twice.

Every single one of the sausages bears the faint taint of the void.

"Good evening, Mr. Matthews!"  The sausage-vender smiles at him.  He's a thin man, vaguely Grecian in appearance, with the shifty eyes of a man keeping a close eye out for the townsfolk bearing tar and feathers.  "How are you today!  Can I interest you in sausage inna bun?  Meat pie?  Chikky yakkytory?  All for half a credit, just for you, and that's stabbing me own jugular!"

Welp. Once again work steps in to ruin a promising venture in private life.

He narrows his eyes somewhat as he takes in the (enticing) smells of the cart, then locks them on the vendor.

“Could you elaborate a bit on what’s in them? I’m sensing something a bit... unusual.”

"Meat.  Real meat.  Gotten from real animal sources."  The merchant glances around as if daring someone to argue with him, "Authentic Dibblakos Mustard is just one tenth a credit.  Makes everything go down smooth!"

The chicken also is ... void chicken.  As are the pies.  ESPECIALLY the pies.  The little pot of mustard, while oddly greasy-looking, at least is otherwise clean to his eyes.

"Uh huh. And where exactly are these sources? And what's in the pies?"

He leans closer, lowering his voice. To the outside it might seem like he's just making an aggressive bargain.

"I'll do you a favor and say this quietly. I sense Void taint in your products. Co-operate and I'll do what I can to preserve your reputation and livelihood from this disaster."

A small pause and a look that cements that he's not joking and certainly not in the mood for jokes or lies. The man was probably not a Void Cultist or such, more likely someone looking to make a profit by cutting some corners, but he carefully scrutinizes the man to make sure regardless.

"Where do you get the meat from? What are the animals fed with? Where are they raised? Help me get to the source of this."

((Inspire to interrogate: 20+20+10 = 50 ... Interesting Times?
Wu Wei to read intentions: 28+15+10 = 53))
This message was last edited by the player at 21:44, Mon 06 Aug 2018.

"Void-tainted?  Now see here, I use only organic, ethically sourced, gluten-free-" He swallows as Lucifer glares at him hard enough to burn through his skull, "Right, uh, take one for the road and follow me?"

He holds up a greasy sausage hopefully.  There's a tic in his right eye.

"I can show you, uh, where my ethically sourced meat comes from.  But only show you, right?  Can't tell you out loud.  Trade secrets must be preserved."

Two people get in line behind Lucifer.

”Right. Lead on”, Daniel replies matter-of-factly and gestures for the man to lead on. The sausage finds no purchase, sadly. He was sort of getting hungry, but if there was one thing Lucifer was good at, it was neglecting his own well-being.

"Sorry, closed today," The merchant announces to the line behind Daniel, giving him a sour look.  The line groans and curses Daniel out a bit but they disperse.

He packs up his cart with deliberate care and trundles it through the Steam Market, the sausages giving off a tantalizing smell all the way.  Eventually they find a lift, and then another lift, and then a small flight of stairs... the merchant grumbles all the way.

"Fine, you wanted to see, you got it,"  He says, "I have nothing to hide.  I'd be better off stabbing my own jugular than hiding!  See, all, all organic, ethically-sourced, gluten-free..."

He trails off and opens a heavy hatch and grunts as he shoulders it open.  Then he gestures inside at the dark gloom.  It smells musty.  There's steel stairs going downward.

"I don't bring my cart inside.  Too many stairs!"

”Alright. After you.”

It wasn’t like the poor man could actually trap him for long or anything, but he wasn’t going to let his guard down just yet regardless. He keeps a close eye on the “feel” of the place as they go.

”Do you raise them yourself or buy them off of someone?”

(Wu Wei to detect possible taint: 23+15+10 = 48)
This message was last edited by the player at 22:57, Mon 06 Aug 2018.

The merchant heads down first.  As soon as he touches the top stair they hear relentless squeaking.

"Well, uh, I kind of found them," The merchant admits. "And then I just made things more... orderly?"

There are cages and cages of rats.  None of them are overcrowded, by Lucifer's estimate; the ratty smell permeates the room.  And, sure enough, every single one of them have the faint taint of the Void to them.

"Just was this room full of 'em, living in filth, so I kind of... caged them up, cull them every couple of days, you know?  Then make the sausage.  It's good protein!  And I sing to them every night, let them say their goodbyes, feed them..."

"So all of your meat comes from these rats?"

Daniel paces around the room, gauging what could've caused the rats to become tainted. Probably something they ate or some place they spend time in rather than something inherent.

"Well, yes.  Including the chicken.  Especially the chicken.  Sausage is the, err, abdominal region, and the chicken are the legs and dainty heads..."  The marchant slows down.

They're caged and all have the same level of void taint.  Either they're just naturally tainted or it's coming in here from somewhere.

"Look, nobody's had any problems, ... major problems, so what's the point?"

"Uh huh. And what kind of non-major issues have there been so far? How long have you been selling this stuff?"

He concludes his tour around the premises, looking to the man.

"The point is this is void-tainted meat. Anything remotely related to Abyssals tends to be bad for the Living in the long run. Think of it as a sort of radiation; it might not do anything the first few times, but the more you get exposed over time, the more likely you are to get issues."

"Five, six months?"  He shrugs, "I have repeat regulars.  Their... uh... non-major issues are... flatulence.  Silent, intense flatulence.  And sometimes stomachaches.  You know, the stuff you get with most sausages sold at sausage carts!"

He walks over to Lucifer and puts an arm around his shoulder.

"Look, look, Mr. Matthews, you're thinking about this all the wrong way!  First of all, I strongly suggest you take one yourself before you judge my fine customers.  I heard your stomach grumbling." He gives Lucifer a wink, "Second of all, think of it like... like... not like radiation.  Jesus knows we have plenty of that around here!  We have people living in the Wyld zones aboard the ship, on the skin of the ship, people who work with dead bodies.  There's a guy who sells blood ape steaks openly on the street down by the Grand Trunk.  The way I see it?  What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."  He squeezes Lucifer's shoulder, "I'm not poisoning them.  I'm helping them build up an immunity!"

((Discovery:
7, 7, 6, 4, 3 & 2
*Inspiration:  SMOJ Dibblakos is a Paragon of Virtue 27 + Inspire 10 + Specialty 5 (Cuisine) = 42))

((Confidence: 34+20+10 = NOPE))

Daniel pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment. Then he peels the man’s arm from his shoulder and moves to grab one of the cages.

”I appreciate the entrepreneurial spirit, mr. Dibblakos. Since you’re so sure of their harmlessness, though, I’m sure you won’t mind getting some hard evidence for it. I’ll have some unbiased researchers take a look at your ethical luxury meat. If they deem them harmless or close enough to it, you’ll get an official statement about it. If not, you’ll have to switch sources, methods of refinement or jobs. I’m sure doing what’s right beats an easy credit after all, eh?”

((Counter-Discovery: Influence: Cutting corners is cutting profits, doing good is where the money’s at: 37 +15 WW +10 AB = 63))

He heads back outside, fiddling with his phone as he sends for someone to get the samples off of him. He pauses by the parked sausage wagon, dropping a small but fair amount of cash on it.

”To compensate for the loss of material. I could take a sample of the finished product as well, now that I think of it.”

((Defense:
10, 8, 6, 4, 2 & 1
... hahahah
*Defense 18 + Confidence 15 = 33
*A Minor Inspiration Bonus or a Trivial Inspiration Penalty))

"Absolutely, go ahead and take them," He gestures at a cage of four brown rats, squeaking plaintively at Lucifer.  "And you're right, you're right.  Doing what's right means better sausage!"

He looks at the cash with a glint in his eye. "And absolutely.  Here's your order-" He puts a sausage inna bun and hands it to Lucifer, then gestures at the mustard.  It smells inordinately delicious, even though they still glow with the faint taint of the Void.  "-I'll need to tend to the cages.  They need to be fatter!  Plumper!  Grow up in a better living environment!  I need to think less like a beef cow, and more like wagyu!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:54, Sat 11 Aug 2018.

"Thanks. Got anything to pack it in?"

With that slight detour done with, Daniel leaves the enterprising entrepreneur to his improvements and heads back toward the market. Maybe this time he'd have better luck...

Lucifer is handed a paper baggie without further adieu, but as he leaves he can hear Dibblakos talking to his rats-  "There you go, fatten up, no more low rations for you guys!".

He gets an automated text from Smoker.  The man must be busy with something for it to go to his automation queue.  But it assures him that one of Smoker's many Fixers will converge on his location and don't worry about staying still.

Inside the market he gets a few dirty glares for walking around with cages full of rats.  Others are not so torn up about it; survival is survival, and rats are always around in abundance.  He makes it part of the way through the steam market before he finds his goal:  the butcher shop.  There's not much beef here but it looks like the butcher has just taken apart a lamb.  The butcher looks up glumly as Lucifer approaches.

"Hoy,"  The butcher raises a bloody hand, "I'm out of kidneys if that's what you're after."

Hmh. He'd hoped for someone to be there before he returned to the market, but it's not really a big deal.

As he reaches the butcher he's slightly confused. What an oddly specific thing to lead with.

"I can do without. Looks like you've taken apart a lamb; how about some sirloin?"

"Oh thank Luna,"  The butcher mutters as he starts to look through the lamb pieces, "I have a rich man in front of me."  He looks up, "You want a roast or steaks?"

He frowns all of a sudden, focusing on a spot behind Lucifer's shoulder, to his right. "... Hey now. I don't want any trouble..."

"Was thinking steaks."

He gains a frown as the butcher focuses on something, glancing over his shoulder to follow the look.

"Yeah, yeah," The butcher mumbles, his eyes still over Daniel's shoulder...

Behind him are two young teenage men, dressed in ragged robes and carrying long, thin metal pipes scavenged from somewhere.  The tattoos on their neck- tribal, ancient- immediately mark them out to him.  They're members of the Exercitus Terrae, and they're locked on to him.  Both have a look that somehow mixes scowling unhappiness with rapt attention.

The fact that they're zeroing in on him means they must be from Smoker.

"Greetings, Enlightened One."  The oldest of the two raises his hand in benediction, "We have been sent by Brother Shackleford."
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 20:56, Fri 17 Aug 2018.

There's a slight sigh as Daniel notes the young reconquistadors. He glances to the butcher apologetically.

"Ah. No trouble here. Sorry, just a moment."

He turns to the teens with a neutral expression, handing over the cage and take-away sausage inna bun. He speaks in a low tone so as to keep a level of privacy but not so hushed as to appear suspicious.

"Greetings. In a nutshell: Here's some samples of the food and ingredients of one Mr. Dibblakos, a sausage cart vendor I ran into in the Steam Market. I noticed a faint taint of the Void in all his goods; upon inspection, I determined the source to be the rats he cultivates in an abandoned part of the ship. Mr. Dibblakos agreed to have his wares inspected, so please see that these samples are inspected by qualified, dependable professionals and Mr. Dibblakos is informed of the results. If they are proved harmful, Mr. Dibblakos will have to be informed he's due for a career change. Smoker or someone in the command chain will be able to provide you with suitable inspectors for the wares."

He provides the necessary details of where he'd met Dibblakos as well as the way to his rat farm.

The younger of the two takes the rat and the sausage.  He takes a long sniff of the sausage and his stomach audibly rumbles.  "... Oh.  Brother Dibblakos's food ..."  He grimaces, "They always... always give me gas.  So much gas."

"But they are delicious," The older mutters.

"Yes, they are at that."

"Brother Baladge, please take this to the Sanctuary labs." The older says to the younger, "Give them Brother Shackleford's passwords."

"At once, Brother Framingham." The younger bows and takes off into a sprint through the crowded market, barging past them with little regard for their safety.  The rats squeak in terror as they're swung about, no doubt to find their final resting place in the vivisection labs of Sanctuary.

"Our apologies for the interruption," Brother Framingham says to the butcher and to Lucifer, "Please, continue."

Smoker's passwords? Most likely he'd just given them some low-level ones that weren't actually his, but a couple of teenagers being able to call on any amount of Smoker's influence was a slight cause for concern. They were probably cutaways... That, or Smoker actually harbored sympathies for the Exercitus Terrae. It wasn't an impossibility by any stretch, the man was kind of a sucker for all sorts of conspiracies. Daniel makes a mental note to bring the subject up just in case.

He gives a nod to the older acolyte before turning back to the butcher.

"...Right. Sorry about that. So, lamb steaks?"
This message was last edited by the player at 09:40, Wed 22 Aug 2018.

"Already on it, sir,"  The butcher has begun cutting slabs of steaks while glancing up every so often at the older acolyte, Framingham, with a distrustful look.  "How many do you need?  In kilos?"

Framingham sucks on his teeth.  Tsst.

The butcher looks back down at the meat quickly.  "Begging your pardon, sir, how much in pounds?"

Daniel gains a frown. The butcher may be intimidated but he most certainly is not. Quite the opposite, the damn kid staying to loiter and look judgmental starts grinding his gears instantly.

"Half a kilo will do." Despite being american, Daniel had upgraded to the more logical, sensible and all-around strictly superior metric system quickly after it became the de facto standard for measurement after the Exodus. As all sensible people should.

As the butcher works, he throws Brother Framingham a glance. "Any reason in particular you're still here?"

He's not hostile, not even outwardly annoyed quite yet, but grave enough to convey that unless he's got a valid reason to stay now would be the time to go.

"There are other matters worth discussing," Brother Framingham tells Daniel, "And we hoped to have your input on a rite to honor fallen Gaia."

"Wrapped up in freezer paper, sir, or newspaper?"  The butcher asks Daniel, "The latter's better if you plan on eating it fresh."

"And, of course, to bask in your radiance."  Framingham continues.

”Newspaper in that case. Planning to have at least half of it today. Any tips on cooking?”

He takes a breath while regarding the boy. Was this a bully who’d found a cause to justify being better than others, or just a well-meaning but zealous teen fumbling about?

”A ritual to Gaia? Have to be careful with that, so as not to inadvertently venerate the Neverborn. What do you need my input on?”

The butcher shrugs, "Sear them both sides, salt and pepper and other herbs if you got em, 2 minutes each side.  Flip again, cook on lower heat for 4-6 minutes each side, then let rest for another five."  He suggests, "It's simple, yah, but it's not like we're gourmet anymore."

He starts wrapping the newspaper.  It's a tabloid rag.  The front page says "SONDOK AND LUCIFER THREE-WAY WITH GODDESS OF BOOM BOXES?  SEE THE PICTURES PAGES 2-8" with a smaller blurb, "Red Queen alone, conflicted - sad last days!!!".

"Err... everything, sir,"  Brother Framingham admits, "We were really worried about that... Brother Shackleford told us to wait because it's not like Gaia's getting any less venerated, but, we felt that veneration is a necessity, and..."

Daniel nods to the butcher. He was actually a decent cook due to his time at the soup kitchen way back when, but steaks were never really something he would’ve made often.

”Simple is good. Don’t have the time to marinate or anything anyway and my kitchen’s pretty barebones.”

As his eyes gloss over the headlines, he lets out a faint groan and scratches his brow. What the hell had the vultures found to fill seven pages with? Well, whatever.

He looks to Framingham with a positively surprised face. At least the kids seemed to realize the limitations of their knowledge to some extent.

”Well, Smoker’s not wrong. Gaia won’t gain much from your worship even if it’s done correctly, but sacraments and veneration are important for reasons beyond that. They are rituals for us as much as the ones they venerate. I respect your desire to do things correctly rather than by fumbling in the dark. I can give you some prayers and ceremonial considerations, but the main thing is to honor the memory of Gaia as we remember her rather than what she may have become and to denounce the Neverborn when doing it.”

"Which is why you must witness," The Brother replies with fervent, hissed zealotry, "We can't risk our prayers empowering the Neverborn!  And who better than a Zenith?  The strongest Zenith ever?  Everything must be correct.  There are theories-"  He suddenly stops and swallows, "Regardless, we would be most honored to have you visit our enclave.  And we have places you can cook."

The butcher grunts,  "Pay now or tab?" to Lucifer.  "I don't normally do tabs but you might be an exception."

He was going to regret this, wasn't he? Eh. Not like he had anything worthwhile to do and he could always bail if it was about to take too long or get too inept.

"Hmh. I'll visit to consult for the ritual but don't expect me to stay long."

He walks over to the counter to pay a fairly rounded-up price. "That should do. Don't know when I'll visit next so wouldn't be fair to leave you hanging. Have a pleasant day."

"Thank you, Brother Lucifer." Brother Framingham bows, "We will very much appreciate your assistance."


The butcher takes the money and grunts, an eyebrow raised.  "Could leave me an address. Could make deliveries for this."  He taps the credit chip.  "Wouldn't mind being a supplier?"

”Don’t think I’ll have the chance to cook like this often, but I’ll leave you an address in case I do.”

He gives the butcher a place close enough to his place to be convenient but far enough to not give away his location in detail. His address wasn’t really top secret but he did what he could to avoid unnecessary attention (read: pestering).

After he’s done taking the butcher’s contact info for orders he thanks the him, bids him good day and turns to Brother Framingham.

”I hope your place is not far. Lead on. And don’t make a big deal of this.”
This message was last edited by the player at 22:14, Mon 27 Aug 2018.

Brother Framingham... looks like he was just about to make a very big deal indeed.  But he summons some dark inner strength to keep himself from adding another bit to Daniel's day, and so he just leads the way, chanting something in Latin.

"Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Proin quis tellus feugiat, venenatis risus eu, venenatis purus. Morbi mollis dui arcu, eu ornare velit ultrices in. Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Pellentesque orci lectus, dictum vitae arcu ac, pretium mollis nulla. Sed venenatis posuere malesuada. Aliquam non finibus est. Suspendisse luctus nulla justo, et viverra nulla congue in. Ut varius, purus sollicitudin finibus porttitor, nisi justo finibus ipsum, finibus bibendum sem augue a magna. Aliquam nibh ligula, vestibulum eget semper eget, fringilla maximus mi. Nunc sit amet porta est, vitae volutpat felis. Vestibulum scelerisque mauris non nisl varius, in ultrices risus eleifend. Curabitur sit amet elit neque. Duis condimentum mauris vel pretium commodo. In faucibus aliquet convallis..."

The chanting goes on as he moves through the Steam Market.  The crowd parts quickly for Brother Framingham, pressing in on Lucifer as he passes.  One inspires fear, the other inspires hope.

"Do you miss Earth, Brother Lucifer?"  He asks once they leave the main crowd, switching to the access tunnels leading out and towards some of the lower-class suburbs.

Daniel has to concentrate all of his willpower on staving off an aneurysm as Brother Framingham starts chanting. Rarely if ever had he been so simultaneously amused and infuriated at such incompetence.

He makes an effort to not come off as an ally or friend to the boy as they move past the crowd; he is merely accompanying him. He passes little blessings and words of encouragement here and there now that a low profile was out of the picture. He feels a bit strange doing it while carrying groceries, though.

As the brother asks his question he thinks for a moment.

”I miss belonging. I miss simpler times when the world was finite and victories yielded more than another moment of respite. Earth as it was provided those, but no more. I miss Earth as it was, but like so many things beloved and precious, it is gone now and no amount of effort can save it or bring it back. Not in this universe, anyway. Otherwise I would’ve never left it.”
This message was last edited by the player at 12:54, Wed 29 Aug 2018.

In a very disconcerting moment, he notices a woman darting forward to try to touch his feet as he passes.

Brother Framingham pays that no notice.

"But the videos."  He says, confused about Lucifer's answer. "I've seen them.  Watched the holy Empeefours."

Ah, right.  THAT video.  It wasn't at the final Ragnarok, the Last Battle of Seoul, but at one point- exhausted and probably maddened by Sol Invictus's death- he'd had to be literally dragged away into the Last Refuge.  It was the last video taken on Earth:  him struggling to stay. 

"They are important to the Exercitus Terrae.  We appreciated your vitality and zealotry."

Enh. He gets where the woman’s coming from; Mary Magdalene and the anointing of Jesus, and all that. Doesn’t really help make it less awkward though.

His expression gets unusually grave even by his standards as Brother Framingham brings up the tapes.

”Yes... Helsinki. When Sol was no longer Invictus, where the patron of my zealotry was cast down and enslaved by the Void. Those tapes chronicle the dying throes of Lucifer the blind zealot. I was still able to fight, so in my rage I saw nothing but the next enemy to destroy. I did not see that for every hundred I killed, a hundred innocents were caught in the rubble. That every step I drove the Dead back brought me further from the Last Refuge and risked the true future of the Living. I did not realize it then, Brother Framingham, but no matter the outcome of the battle, the war had already been lost. In the moment I was unable to accept that no matter how unstoppable I was, no matter how many thousands of the Dead I exterminated, it wouldn’t be enough. Ly- ...my friends were right to drag me away. Had they not, I would have gone out in a selfish blaze of glory. It would’ve been a simpler, easier path. Being whittled away from a million necrotic cuts would’ve been far less painful than the truth I had to face.”

He heaves a heavy sigh.


“I’m still angry, perhaps more so than ever. I’m never giving up until I draw my final breath. But Earth is undeniably, irrevocably gone, and to return there now would be to return to Helsinki and choose a glorious death over the survival of the Living. Replicate my drive and vitality if it inspires you, but direct it to a cause that’s achievable and benefits more than your ego.”
This message was last edited by the player at 08:14, Thu 30 Aug 2018.

"You would have us- stop?" He asks, standing stock still in place.  He turns to face Lucifer, "You- Lucifer, the Morning Star, Savior of Camden, Scourge of the Neverborn, truly believe that Earth is lost and cannot be regained?  That there's no hope of reconquest?"

Ah.  Lucifer sees it in his eyes.  A conflict of faith.  The man's bedrock has been shaken.

For the first time Daniel feels an inkling of sympathy for the young fool. He returns a gaze that’s grave but not defeated and speaks in a steady rhythm, pausing where appropriate to allow for processing what he is and isn’t saying.

”I will give you no commands, but these irrevocable, painful truths I will impart: Whether or not Earth can be reclaimed is a moot point. Even if we could do it - which, despite our best efforts, we couldn’t do when the Dead were only at a fraction of their current power - we would be conquering a lifeless husk with no hope of resurgence. Gaia is with the Dead now, and nothing in this universe can bring her back. Going back to Earth would bring nothing but death and the ultimate extinguishment of the Living even if successful. To bank on such a hope is misguided, for ultimately it is to give up hope of a better tomorrow to avoid accepting the painful truth of the past and the present. Earth as we know it is gone from this universe, and while I know better than most the agony and despair this realization brings, the truth will not change no matter how one tries to deny it.”

By now he’s gotten well and truly into it, quite possibly drawing a crowd in the process. He sighs, then inhales and continues on a more uplifting note before the weight of his truth bomb has evolved into full-on hopelessness.

”But make no mistake; while Earth is well and truly gone, the Living are not defeated and hope still remains. While this universe may be lost, it is but one battle in a war of cosmic proportions. Every battle won, every sacrifice made brings us one page closer to the next chapter of the Saga of the Living; a fresh start, a new beginning in a parallel Creation. Perhaps in the Brave New World we will even find an Earth where we can settle once more; if not, we will found a New Eden and flourish once more. This night may seem endless and it is full of horrors, but in time, this too shall pass and every tragedy, every sacrifice will be vindicated.”

((1 Chi on +5 Inspire
Inspire: 28+20+5+10 = 63
Confidence to appear steadfast: 27+20+10 = 57 ))
This message was last edited by the player at 22:30, Mon 03 Sept 2018.

((Counter-confidence:  28 vs 63))

Brother Framingham can't return his gaze.  He must have already known, deep in his heart; he must have had his doubts.  His faith almost visibly withers like a snowflake under a blowtorch.  Another thing Lucifer has seen before; this sort of thing would either break him utterly or give him new inspiration.

He sighs and turns away from Lucifer.  Broken, then?  He continues down the hall silently, his shoulders slumping in an odd fashion, deep in thought.

Eventually they start walking on soil.  Honest to God soil, poured all over the floors of the halls, some of it growing weeds, most of it growing prettier plants.  It's a small verdant bit of home, smelling of (happy) decay and nature and life.

Eventually he turns to a larger room, definitely a meeting hall based on the flaked-off paint.  Inside there's an altar made of dried wood, two small trees growing, a bored-looking teenage girl dressed in her approximation of Gaia, fifteen acolytes dressed similar to Brother Framingham, and no less than 36 caged squirrels, one to a cage.

Brother Framingham raises his arms and a quiet hush falls over the assembled acolytes.

"Gaia is dead, Earth is lost, Brother Lucifer doesn't agree with our mission, the Elders are possible heretics who may be worshiping the Neverborn, and sacrifices must be made in the name of the living!"

"Oh thank Gaia,"  The bored-looking teenager rolls her eyes.

Another acolyte pipes up, "PURGE THE ELDERS, FOR THEY HAVE LED US ASTRAY!"

Another screams, "MAKING A NEW WORLD AND A NEW GAIA IS THE ONLY THEOLOGICAL OPTION!"

Another replies, "FUCK YOU, IF WE GET A NEW WORLD GAIA WILL ONLY REINCARNATE, IT WON'T BE A NEW GAIA!"

"HERETIC!"

"LISTEN TO BROTHER FRAMINGHAM, FOR HE HAS REFORMED THE EXERCITUS TERRAE!  HE IS CHOSEN BY GOD AND GAIA!"

"FATHER FRAMINGHAM!  FATHER FRAMINGHAM!  LONG LIVE FATHER FRAMINGHAM, MESSENGER OF LUCIFER AND GOD AND GAIA!"

"I miss cheese..."

"NONSENSE, WE MUST TURN TO THE GODS OF THE MACHINE NOW!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:35, Tue 04 Sept 2018.

Daniel is silent for the rest of the way. No doubt the young man needed some time to process...

Oh for fuck's sake.

He heaves another heavy sigh while pinching the bridge of his nose, then takes one more deep breath. Framingham's take-aways may not be unfounded, but he wasn't very keen on allowing a broken phone effect to happen here. While he was watching, at least.

"No one speaks for me but myself. If you wish to know what led this boy to these conclusions, hear this."

He proceeds to lay down some knowledge in a speech that's pretty similar to the one he'd given Brother Framingham, if only to avoid raising the boy into apostlehood. He'd unwittingly let that happen once before with that insufferable woman...

No doubt he would have to repeat it once more for these Elders, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

"WHERE IS THE BAPHOMET I WAS TOLD THERE WOULD BE A BAPHOMET"

The rest stop and listen to Lucifer.  Some eyes glaze over.  Others nod a bit too fervently.  "THE PROPHET HAS SPOKEN" one shouts at the end of his speech, "LONG LIVE THE BRAVE NEW WORLD!  WE WILL BRING FORTH A NEW EDEN!"  Well, that's... a little encouraging...

"REMOVE YOUR CLOTHES SO THAT WE MAY BE PURE IN THE NEW EDEN" ... and that isn't.

At this moment a particularly fervent disciple- with eyes glazed over from something he must've imbibed just beforehand to make the rite just a bit more meaningful- chooses to grab a squirrel cage and hurl it randomly through the air.  This hits another cage, rattling the entire rickety framework that was holding the poorly built squirrel cages.  Within moments three dozen squirrels scamper through the room, exciting bedlam.

One starts trying to crawl up Lucifer's pants.

...Ah. These kids weren't idiots. They were idiots on shrooms. Daniel's hand twitches a little as it yearns for a trigger to pull, but luckily Manifest Destiny was still out getting repaired.

It'd actually been a while since he'd seen squirrels, though. Especially in such numbers. Wonder where the kids had got them?

He doesn't react to the squirrel as strongly as most might, considering he had little to fear from a potential bite, but he nonetheless flicks his leg a bit so the rodent at least wouldn't get inside his clothes.

He regards the unfolding bedlam for a few seconds with a blank face, trying to decide whether to torch the whole place or just leave, then turns back to Brother Framingham, clearly straining to keep his cool.

"...It seems your plans have changed. I'll be off."

He flicks his leg but the squirrel is persistent and holds on, scuttling down towards his shoe and then under his cuff as it tries to go up the pantleg.

"We'll make you proud, I promise,"  Brother Framingham tells him in a normal voice as the assembled initiates grow ever more histrionic.  A squirrel jumps onto Framingham's head and stares at Lucifer.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:08, Thu 06 Sept 2018.

Ugh. He'd just have to wait for the squirrel to realize there wasn't much to do or eat inside his clothes, or else he'd make an improvised addition to the meat being served today. He does press on his pants' leg to block passage past the knee if the squirrel proves determined enough, though.

"Just do the best you can and strive to do better each time. Oh, and if these Elders you speak of - if they disagree with my assessment, you can tell them I'm open to meet them to find consensus sometime."

After staring down the squirrel that had an inexplicably punchable face for some reason for a moment he turns on his heels, keeps grabbing his bag of lamb steaks tightly to avoid extra stowaways and moves to leave the shroomed-up kids to their... whatever the hell they were doing.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:07, Thu 06 Sept 2018.

The squirrel grasps his calf like it's a tree branch and clings on with sharp little claws.

"I don't think the Elders will have much important to say soon,"  Brother Framingham says smugly.  Lucifer leaves, for once safe and secure.

At least the Exercitus Terrae hallway is a nice little reminder of the forests back home.

Sigh. Was he going to have to make squirrel paste? It’d be an annoying chore to clean from the inside of his jeans - not that he was a stranger to any type of gore stains by now. He elects to give the squirrel a minute or two to realize there was nothing to find inside his pants. After that the poor thing would have to be evicted forcefully.

He regards his surroundings as he walks away from the brewing cult coup. Gotta say, at least the Exercitus Terrae were adept at gardening.

As he walks he digs up his phone again for directions back home. Good thing he was cooking this today so it wouldn’t matter if the meat had been warm for a while.

The squirrel continues to clutch his calf as he moves, clearly frightened out of its mind.

He pulls out his phone and checks the directions.  When he does so, he notices a text from an anonymous number.  A quick check reveals a picture of his apartment.

Standing in front of it is-

a woman

at least 200 kilos

wearing a fucking stupid white hat

and fucking stupid white clothes

and



to another stupid person next to her

Dammit. Guess this rodent wouldn’t leave on its own. And if he took it away from these trees it’d die.

Eh. Not like he had anything important to do, might as well try and put some effort into saving the poor thing. Daniel finds a spot away from prying eyes before chanting the beginnings of the Ritual of Elemental Empowerment, causing his clothes to shift momentarily, including opening a hole in his jeans for the squirrel to escape through. If the rodent doesn’t take the hint he guides it off before aborting the ritual safely and returning things to what they were.

A highly overblown answer to a mundane problem, perhaps, but hey, he was a Pre-Exodite. Whatever works.

As he plots a course home, he sees the picture of HER. The one who’d been there since his Exaltation like a pebble in his shoe, the woman who despite his myriad denunciations and corrections probably still went around calling herself his high priestess. Someone he certainly wasn’t in the mood for dealing with at the moment (or ever). He’d had his share of misguided cultists for the day.

That means his house was off limits. Where else could he go, though? Maybe the martial library? He was due for a visit to WAL but his steak would probably be talking by the time he got there...

The squirrel bolts out of the hole in his pants, fleeing into one of the bushes of the- wait, is this place a bathroom?  It's a bathroom, they pee in bushes here or something based on the toilet paper he sees scattered around.

And oh yes.  Judging by PAULINE SMITTERS' clothing she's still running her cult as the High Priestess.  After all, who else but her was closer to him since the beginning?!

The Martial Library does indeed have a kitchen, though how much of it is available for him to use to cook a few steaks is up for grabs.  He doesn't recall seeing very much in terms of cooking supplies and paraphernalia there; it's usually more for things like making cheap-ass noodles.

Hmm.  He doesn't actually know that many- wait.  Command.  The Sidereals.  THEY have an apartment and won't give him shit, right?!

In the current situation, pestering Command with something like this seemed like a less horrible idea than it probably should. In all honesty, they were workaholics just as bad as he was so making sure they got something to eat could even be considered a public service. Good thing he'd gotten some extra meat.

He puts in the address for Command into his PDA and sends Battles a message.

"Hey. Unimportant freetime stuff: Kinda blocked out of my house at the moment and looking for a place to cook lamb steaks I bought. You can have half if I can cook it at your place. Sound ok?"

After sending the message and giving it a second thought, the word 'freetime' would probably rattle Battles worse than "apocalyptic crisis" coming from him.

"Bit busy at the moment"

The text comes back,

"Pilot/essence integration training with the exodites"
"Training Kimmie"
"She says 'hi' and 'whatchoo doin'"

Then more texts,

"Serenity says you're good to come over tho"
"Go see her"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 21:02, Mon 10 Sept 2018.

"I'm trying to figure out how to spend a day off. It's going... somehow so far. Found a guy selling void-tainted rat meat sausages. Also Exercitus Terrae are even stupider than I thought."

Serenity, huh? There was a chance of getting involved in something weird, but hey, anything but Pauline was a win. He gets directions and starts moving out.

"Gonna head there then. If you're staying late I could join, or if not I can save some for you guys. Supposing I don't light the place on fire"

"Oh Dibblakos"
"Didn't know about the void taint tho"
"Careful about ET just when you think you've hit bottom of the barrel you find another warehouse"
"We're a few light years out, don't worry about it see you in command"

The directions don't show up on his COREpad.  That's for very good reason.  But he knows the way once he hits a specific section of the Upperdecks; he gets the instructions from there and heads out.  Mercifully this time he's not accosted by media or doting fans or Pauline.

Command is behind a simple white door on a disused hallway near a janitor's closet.  It's sealed shut, and probably can only be opened by a Sidereal or CORE or a special password that Lucifer doesn't actually have.

”Alright, see ya. Have a good session”

Once he’s at the door, he opts for an ancient secret sign for getting past doors: knocking. Failing that, he sends Serenity an email or as a last resort texts Battles again.

The second knock opens the door.  Once Serenity was a young, beautiful woman, bubbling with happiness and hope.  Now she's older, jaded, wrinkles around her face, a tired look in her eyes.  The stress has driven her into the ground.

"Oh, hey,"  She says dully, "Come on in, Dan.  Sorry.  Haven't been checking my phone."

Inside it looks like a trendy college apartment, two big couches, a big-screen TV, an open-concept kitchen, four rooms splitting off from the main living room.

"Come in.  I was observing the fates.  It's been exhausting."

Her and him both. Ruggedness suited him a bit better though, one might suppose.

”Hey. Sorry for barging in, just needed a place to cook after finding out my self-titled “high priestess” has been spotted near my place and Battles said it’d be fine.”

He steps in, glancing around the place. He’d been there before but not regularly by any means. He heads for the kitchen to check that his steaks were still intact.

”Sorry if I interrupted. Feel free to get back to it if you’re in the middle of something. I’m making lamb steaks, want some?”

"Oh, yeah, her.  Annoying isn't she."  She mumbles.  The place looks clean, but a closer inspection reveals that someone's not doing their end of the chores.  Little bits of dirt, papers lying around, etc. wouldn't be tolerated by Battles, though he knows Journeys is probably to blame for that.

"No, thanks.  I've eaten."  She says, settling right back onto the couch. "... Alright maybe a bit of one.  So we might have another Endings soon.  But things aren't looking good in that department."

The kitchen at least looks clean.  And his steaks are just fine- room temp but nothing horrible.

“Annoying is quite an understatement. But yeah, I’ll save you a piece.”

Daniel doesn’t mind Serenity’s casualness, it was her place after all. He scrounges up some salt and pepper, seasons the steaks and lets them flavor up a bit as he locates some foil and possible condiments.

He looks up from his preparations as a new Endings is mentioned.

“Really? Why not?”

Someone here is a pretty good chef, judging by the ingredients lying around.  Ah.  A bag of pot.  Yeah, that'd be Journeys.  He gets the pan started.

"Nnn.  Fates don't work like they used to.  Every Sidereal exaltation is preordained, in potentia, from the moment of birth.  Not like you Celestials.  There are 'reserves' waiting in the wings, so to speak, in case of an unforeseen demise."  She looks at the TV, which just seems to be displaying a loom and threads, "Backups.  But there's just not enough options and we're dying faster than we can get replacements.  The birth rate is... it's just not enough to sustain the Last Refuge.  We're looking at total population crash in 30 years, and that's only if the Neomah keep up what they're doing."

Hm. Potatoes, maybe? Yeah, mashed potato would do as a side. Daniel puts some water on the stove, cuts up some potatoes to quarters to shorten the boiling time and adds them to the water.

That means he had a while until he needed to fry the steaks. He turns to Serenity as he waits, frowning.

"So in Endings' case we're looking at spares of spares, basically? That does sound less than optimal. That said, adaptation and perseverance in terrible circumstances is pretty much our way of life by now. The population crash does sound bad, although I'd expect that in 30 years we'll either be long dead or flourishing in the new world. I guess we should find something to replace the massive orgy-parties Jess held regardless, though."

He glances at the TV; not being its intended audience he likely sees little of use.

"In a way I think you Sidereals are more vulnerable to the Void; even the greatest plans and systems can be eroded over time, whereas us Celestials are a more random element and thus harder to plan against or wither away."

"This is actually spares 9th removed." She says with a heavy sigh. "Yes, see, we've known we're quite vulnerable for a while.  It's, shall we say, baked into the design.  We have to be careful, because we know just how easy it is to mess us up.  It made us require a lot of thought.  But when things go wrong, boy do they go wrong."

She rubs her startlingly blue eyes.

"The next one tapped has severe psychological trauma.  The Exaltation may burn it away or it may make it worse."

"Trauma is more or less expected of any Exodite by now", Daniel says while shaking his head. "Anything we could do to help him or her deal with the trauma before Exaltation, or at least prepare for what's coming? I know your Exaltations are supposed to include an optimal preparation for the coming task but as we know, things haven't unfolded exactly as planned so far. Or is meddling just likely to screw it up worse?"

He looks back at the fridge and sighs.

"I need a drink. Can I get you anything?"

"Let me correct myself, severe psychological trauma by Exodus standards.  I'm looking at the next options.  Maybe they won't be as bad.  Sometimes we can tweak the threads, especially when they're as frayed as they are, but we can't ever fully stop it.  Sooner or later this person will exalt as an Endings, within 2-3 exaltations.  If I switch we might be able to get them into the proper psych program.  Just, egh, the next two have their own issues.  #2 on the list is a-"  She pauses, "Rum, darling, bottom left- #2 on the list is a scientist under Shun Xiao, and #3 is a teenage wildcat miner on the transport Billsaver.  That doesn't sound so bad until you realize who the former's mentor will be, and the latter is extremely unwilling to leave their ship."

”Oof. Yeah, any underling of Shun Xiao would need to be extracted asap and kept in something like a witness protection program. Not that it sounds too difficult to do for you. As for number three, yeah, that would be a problem for a Sidereal. A cold pragmatist might destroy the ship but that might well end up similar to candidate 1.”

He follows directions to the rum, finding the bottle and pouring two glasses.

”Ice? Anything else?”

After adding whatever is instructed to Serenity’s glass and some ice to his, he walks over to hand the Sidereal her glass.

”Sorry if I’m stating the obvious. Here.”

He raises his glass slightly. ”Per Aspera Ad Astra.”

"Nope, that's fine.  Straight.  Per Aspera Ad Inferi."  She takes the glass and raises it before downing it in one drink, "We can solve a lot of things with this latest crop by being pragmatic, but I don't think we're ready to go that draconian.  Well, I mean, I am, I'm already pretty vilified by the public, but if I did I'm pretty certain Battles would put his foot right up my ass if I did."

"Followed by me, most likely. Our struggle on this giant space coffin isn't just holding onto life, but humanity as well."

As Serenity mentions public opinion, Daniel's frown deepens.

"Public opinion, eugh. I'm reminded of a certain fellow Solar whose inability to reconcile image with true self ruined her."

He lifts his glass for a sip but finds it empty. Apparently the subject matter had unwittingly made him follow the Sidereal's lead on pace. At first he moves for both glasses to take them to the kitchen for a second pouring but then decides to just get the bottle instean and pour himself a new drink from it. He looks to Serenity for confirmation on whether she'd like another as well.

"I'm sure you didn't mean it like that, but the public doesn't truly determine if you're good or bad, Chosen of Serenity or not. There's a saying that when you do your job well, people will wonder if you've done anything at all which I think holds especially true for most of you in Command. Your imperfections and the costs of the difficult choices you make are easy to hold against you along with a whole ton of shit you had nothing to do with, while your successes are largely invisible to most. Yeah, public opinion matters for many reasons, but it's separate from quality of character. I think you're doing the best you can and the fact that you keep doing it despite everything speaks volumes. What I do is easy compared to you."

He places a hand on her shoulder sympathetically toward the end if she seems receptive to it.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:44, Wed 19 Sept 2018.

"Please, a boot up your ass will just break off the foot."  She holds up her glass for a refill, "Yeah, OK, sure, YOU can do that.  But my job is Serenity, it's even my name.  I'm supposed to be the social one here.  My job is managing the social milieu and I'm handicapped by current public perception.  I'm currently working on my own rehabilitation.  It's taking a lot out of me." She doesn't shirk away from his hand but it doesn't seem to release her stress either.

"You definitely have it easy though, alright.  Sorry about the tabloids.  I did what damage control I could.  But, well, demonic tongues do wag."

“Oh no, I meant I’d be the one doing the kicking. You surely know the importance of not just being alive but also human when we breach into the new world.”

He pours the refills and makes sure to actually sip like a civilized person this time around.

“I know it’s shit and I wish I could do something about it. But I maintain that struggling with a near-impossible clusterfuck of problems doesn’t mean you’re doing your job badly or, even less, make you a bad person. It’s no wonder it weighs on you, though. Good thing you’re looking into rehabilitation... wait, that doesn’t include drinking, does it?”

He throws a glance at her glass and the bottle on the table, then rubs the back of his head with a sigh.

“Ugh. Yeah, that. It was kind of supposed to be part of my rehabilitation, I guess. If I gave a shit about tabloids I’d wonder how the goddess got involved, though. Thanks for doing what you could, although you didn’t have to.”

"Don't threaten me with a good time," She mutters with a roll of her eyes and an acid tongue, "My rehabilitation is going to involve the new Endings, but it's also a new propaganda campaign I'll be rolling out soon.  Hopefully involving some of the mortal senators, there's a few of them that are good candidates for this sort of thing.  There's a lot of class and species division going on and it'd be good to start smoothing some of that over.  ...But yes, there will be a LOT of drinking, have you ever really had to deal with disaffected, unemployed badger gods?"

"As far as the tabloids go, well, they like making shit up.  They want gods to buy the paper too, so, they have to include one of their own.  In this case, I have it on very good authority that the Goddess of Boom Boxes - Sonyama - actually ghost writes for the tabloid in question."

"Ah. That sounds good on many fronts. I was just checking I wasn't ruining your rehabilitation by breaking plans of sobriety or something", he says with a totally-serious tone that underlines he's well aware of the sheer implausibility of a sober Serenity, "And I must say I haven't. Can't imagine I'd particularly care to, either."

He moves back to the kitchen area to finish prepping and start working on the meal.

"So either Sonyama wanted to try for a chance in the spotlight or - worse - added a touch of personal fantasy to spice it up. Oh well."

The pan's certainly hot enough for the lamb, and the lamb glistens quite enticingly in the light of the kitchen.  Mmm... meat.

"You're thinking too much in terms of personal desires and not enough in fear."  She shakes her head, "Imagine if she named a dead god, or a god who might take affront.  Best to pick one she knows, and who she knows will always keep the story straight and play along if asked.  Now, of course, she didn't think that you'd actually see that."  She snickers.  "You wanna give her a call?  Put a little fear of the Morningstar in her?"

Daniel tilts his head slightly, then nods. "Hm, makes sense. I'm not actually too bothered by the whole thing... But if it would amuse you, it's not like I have better things to do. Aside from cooking these steaks, but I think I can multitask."

He puts some oil and butter on the pan and lets it heat up for a bit before he starts frying the seasoned steaks. It'd make for an interesting ambience should Serenity decide to make the call.

The butter skids off the heated pan, melting and shimmering as it mixes with the oil.

"Add a bit of garlic," Serenity  calls out as she pulls out her cell phone and starts dialing.  "Gonna put you on speed dial- there we go!"

There must be speakers in the kitchen, because he hears a phone pick up.

"... Hello?  Who is this?" Sonyama's voice is uncertain, "Hello?"

”Sure. Would’ve made a garlic-herb marinade and let it sit overnight but I neither expect nor wish to still be idle enough to cook tomorrow”, Daniel muses as he gets some garlic for the pan.

There’s a moment of confusion as Serenity starts the call. ”...Why do you have her on speed dial?”

There’s not enough time to answer before the poor goddess picks up, though. He continues cooking nonchalantly but his voice is a stern rebuke reminiscent of an inquisitor who’d just found a pentagram scribbled in a suspect’s notebook. A principal who caught you slashing his tires. A deity whose idol you just knocked over. Thunder rumbling in gravel.

”It’s Lucifer.”

A few seconds of silence; enough to let the first wave of “oh shit” thoughts blossom but not enough to formulate a response.

”I’m calling about the other night...”

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..."

Sonyama's groan is loud, whiny, drawn-out, and reminiscent of a rabbit caught in a hawk's claws.

"LookImsorryokaybutajobisajob andIdontwanttopointfingersbut Iwastoldtherewasagoddessinvolved andnameswouldbeneeded andsoitwasmeand IdefinitelydontthinkaboutyouwhenIshower!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:30, Tue 25 Sept 2018.

"Is that so? Told by whom?"

There's an amused smirk on Daniel's face as he glances at Serenity. Looks like they were both right.

"And if you were told a goddess was involved, a proper journalist would find the truth and disclose it rather than default to whatever's convenient. Besides, if you believed that, would you not risk angering the goddess who actually was involved?"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:10, Wed 26 Sept 2018.

Serenity rolls her eyes and makes a flappy hand gesture, 'yeah yeah'.

Sonyama takes a long deep breath.

"If I tell you then will you hang up and leave me alone?  And maybe because digging into another god's business is a bad thing and maybe I'm more than willing to just take the heat off of the god for a bit of considerations later?"

There's a momentary rumble of thunder in his voice. Not by raising his voice or any outright expression of anger, just a little more weight for emphasis.

"And digging into my business is a good idea?"

Another short pause as he turns his attention mainly to his cooking for a moment.

"I'm not making any promises, but telling who fed you the rumors is not the worst move to deflect my attention. Besides, are you sure this "heat" you're taking off this other god is a favor to them at all?"

A bit conceited, perhaps, but eh. He was in Lucifer mode after all.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:31, Thu 27 Sept 2018.

"Well, of course it is, it's good for business- I mean, look, you don't mess with your own kind, okay!  And yeah of course this a favor, means they know they got away with it..." 

She pauses and he can hear static in the background.

"Uh... look, about the informant... I mean... look, you sure?  Sometimes people are better off not knowing."

"Tribalism will only get you so far and the Living as a whole much shorter, Sonyama. I hope you'll come to realize that."

He frowns a bit, glancing at Serenity inquisitively as he hears the static.

"I'm not a stranger to uncomfortable truths and I'm sure both of us have better things to do."

"There's a goddess of voyeurism.  Every time- EVERY time- someone of significant enough fame screws around in a not particularly private place, she's hanging around.  And she's got quite a few charms that help her kinda ramp up the intensity of things.  Not like you two needed it, I bet, right?"

(Feel free to take a wu wei roll to check if she's holding anything back)

((Wu Wei: 29+15+10 = 54
Float 8-8))

"...Really."

It didn't sound all that implausible. Was it something he wanted to know? Not really, but luckily he hadn't been the type to let this information shake him as much as it might have once.

Nonetheless, he considers the statement a bit more. Was that all there was?

((Critical success; she is lying, and lying hard))

"Well, uh, yeah, I mean-"

And before he can call her out on it she blurts it out.  She IS a boombox after all.

"OKAY FINE but it's really not my place to say!  You should speak to Sondok, she knows!  This is something you should discuss with her!"

”Now you would choose to be silent?”

This time his voice carries a sliver of actual anger, or at least potential thereof.

”Listen well, Sonyama. I’m willing to let this debacle slide, but only if you give me the entirety of what you know. And that’s more than I give to most who try to lie to me.”
This message was last edited by the player at 21:31, Tue 09 Oct 2018.

"The other god wasn't necessarily a god... or a goddess, for that matter.  Gender doesn't matter to this one, not like it's both, just, is, and engages..."  The words tumble out, "It's Inlogos, the God of Miscegenation.  Mazel tov.  Don't call me again, unless you want a NSA tumble or something..."

*CLICK*
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:22, Mon 01 Oct 2018.

"..."

It's a good thing Sonyama hung up, because for once Daniel was at a loss for words. His cooking grinds to a halt as his face shifts to a mix of confusion and incredulity.

After a while his eyes drift toward Serenity.

"...Seems like Sondok and I need to talk."

"Yeah, when's the baby shower?  Hash it out and let me know."  Serenity quips at him as she adjusts the image on the TV with a remote, "... hoo, yeah, I'm seeing a fucked up fate snarl building between you two.  Congrats.  She mention she had a kid before?"

"No. No she didn't. What's become of them?"

With nothing much to do about the situation currently, Daniel resigns to continuing his cooking.

"Snarl, huh. What does that mean exactly? Turmoil, unforeseeable consequences, that sorta thing?"

"Well, as creatures of the Celestials most of us are in the hands of Fate.  Demons and Abyssals are not. The Lunars and Solars aren't either, because they make the rules, they're not run by them." She explains, "If you had a normal child they'd fall under Fate, but a half-demon one won't.  Functionally it means we have a much tougher time dealing with them.  Figuring out some basics before they're born, for instance.  It also keeps us from seeing what the Abyssals are doing day-to-day."

She seems to have ducked the first question.  Until she opens her mouth again.

"Sondok has only had one other lover we know of.  She gutted him like a fish after the fact.  But she had a kid and kept her daughter safe.  Being part-demon kept her alive for a long time.  Her daughter didn't escape Earth, I know that for a fact... more likely than not she's an Imperator."

Daniel doesn't seem to have fully internalized the meaning of the news yet; he talks like it was some outside event he was commenting on.

"Some basics? I assume you mean more than gender. But good to know it's more about the child's inherent nature rather than some dark omen."

A dark cloud washes over his features as he hears about the fate of Sondok's daughter, though.

"Seems Sondok and I have even more in common than I knew, then."

After frying the steaks with some garlic and herbs in the pan, he wraps them in foil to finish the cooking process. As he waits for the steaks to get ready he takes the kettle of potatoes off the stove, pours away the water and sets to making the mash. Something to keep him occupied.

"Fine, here,"  She scrolls over on the screen, showing a relatively straight (and somewhat girthy) track.  "This is the fate of your favorite person in the world, Ms. Pauline Smitters.  We can see some things from it.  Well, I can.  A propensity for fixations, food and religion in particular.  Blond hair.  You can't see it but there's a fraying there- she was supposed to have a kid, but the Abyssal attack on Churchill threw that all out of whack."

Of course, Lucifer sees none of it.

"And this bolus here-" Now THAT Lucifer sees, a twisted snarl in her line, "-THAT is her meeting you and a few Abyssals.  That's what essence tends to do, especially continued exposure.  If you ever want a trip, take a look at Smoker's.  Or maybe don't.  Last time I took a deep look at his fate line he showed up at my door with the smelliest cigs I've ever encountered and told me to cut it out."

The steaks smell delicious!  They get wrapped up and set aside.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:45, Sun 07 Oct 2018.

Daniel can't mask a sneer as Pauline is mentioned, but watches Serenity's presentation anyway.

"A few Abyssals? Should I be concerned she's been affected by them? I don't particularly care for her pretending to represent me, but as long as she doesn't cause too much shit I've been letting it slide. But if there's a chance she's an actual risk it might be time I ended the circus for good."

He adds some butter, salt and a bit of milk and gets to mashing the potatoes.

"As for Smoker... Considering the life he's led, I'm hardly surprised. Must be part of what allowed him to beat the odds and survive the shit at Candlelight. Well, I'm just about done."

He goes to get a pair of plates and some utensils.

"No, don't be concerned.  I don't even think she's worth keeping my eye on her.  Most of this stuff is additive.  If an Abyssal kills a friend of a friend, that's a fractional exposure.  Most people here have been exposed to a cumulative 2.3 Abyssals at this rate, which... honestly, that means they're kind of crap at their job, so I'll take it."

She looks over, "Leave some skin in?  Anyway, Smoker's probably the only mortal I know that gives the Loom of Fate the proverbial shudders.  He shouldn't even know I'm looking at it."

She stands up and starts cleaning off their table, which is covered with a bunch of papers and a laptop.

"Hmh. Too bad. Her main talent seems to be skirting the edge of being annoying enough to definitively deal with."

He finishes the mash, puts some on two plates and looks over back at Serenity.

"Must be related to his... Personality. The man makes paranoia into an avant-garde art form. All part of what's let him make it this far. Are we expecting other diners any time soon or should I put the rest in the fridge?"

He opens the foil and plates two of the steaks along with some herb butter he found from the fridge. Was this made by Journeys? Hopefully not, at least if he was in one of his more inspired moods. After that he closes the foil back up and puts a lid on the kettle with the mash. He could put 'em in the fridge later if necessary.

He makes his way to the cleared table and sets the plates down. "I left all of the skin that was left after brushing in. Couldn't be arsed to peel 'em and I like it better like this anyway. Bon appétit."

He didn't get to cook often at all anymore, but the dish should be rather fine. He did spend a good amount of his Pre-Exaltation life in a soup kitchen, after all so his cooking skills are better than most.

"Leave it out, who the hell knows if Journeys will make an appearance.  The man can smell free food from a few light years way."  She finishes setting the table, "Thanks for the food, Daniel."

Daniel hasn't cooked in a while but he has had his practice, and like a bicycle, one never forgets.  It's a better meal than most have on the Last Refuge, though the lamb's a bit gristly.  Serenity eats hers ravenously, with relish, and chases it down with a red wine. Lucifer's not entirely sure where it came from.

"So what's your next step for the day?"

"You're welcome. Thanks for letting me visit on such short notice."

He eats at a leisurely pace, noting where he could've done better but enjoying the meal nonetheless. Not like heIt was sort of refreshing to do something normal like this.

"Not sure, actually. I'm so unused to the concept of free days that I find myself at a loss on how to spend one. Might go visit Anna, and WAL."

"Either ones would be decent.  Don't let them get ignored."  She sips from her wine, "I'm sure our darling reactor will get rather jealous if you don't pay her a visit during your day off.  In fact, she may relish it, considering you're now a father.  She gets the chance to play homewrecker with her favorite toy."

"I'm still not quite sure how to react to the news. Wasn't quite expecting to have a kid with a normally incompatible species, especially like this. Feels more like a trick than legitimate offspring", he confesses as he eats.

"The lack of communication toward me despite involving a god just to make inception possible tells me the kid is something Sondok planned to take care of alone either way. Could I have some of that wine?"

After a while (and hopefully a glass of wine) he sighs. "But yeah, seeing them is probably my next stop. I've got some new books to deliver to Anna and like you said, WAL will no doubt find endless amusement in my newfound status. Thanks again for letting me stop by."

"Demons aren't exactly incompatible, but point."  She says, "Well, it's not a trick, I can see that clear as day.  And yes, Sondok can be like that, but don't think you're out of it just yet.  She doesn't glom on to someone for the hell of it, or even just for a child."

She passes over a glass of wine.

"Hey, no problem.  What books are you bringing our ghostly friend?"

"Mhm. Well, I'll just have to see what happens the next time I see her. Not like I think she'd make a bad mother for a kid, all things considered."

As he finishes eating he takes out his PDA. "Dumas. I've managed to get my hands on a copy of the Count of Monte Cristo, The Pale Lady and... Yeah, I think a full anthology of the D'artagnan romances. Hopefully something to make her unlife in that cage a bit more bearable."

"Oh, she'd be an awful mother, but not as bad as WAL is." She says as she takes another scoop of potatoes.  Hers doesn't seem to disappear with every bite.  "The Count of Monte Cristo?  You sure that's a good idea?  A book about escaping a prison to enact revenge?"  She leans back in her chair, "I was never a huge fan of Dumas, but I always had a soft spot for Milady de Winter. "

"It's by her request. Besides, the prison I've put her in is barely enough to register compared to the one the Neverborn keep her in. Anything that helps rouse her from lethargy is an improvement to me. Getting angry is the first step to making a difference. That said, she used to be a librarian; I doubt the book will shake her world with anything new."

He looks at the non-disappearing mash with some puzzlement but not enough to say anything; Sidereals, after all.

"The quintessential femme fatale, huh. Well, can't really judge; my favorite was Aramis. To be honest I never actually read the books, though - mythology and fantasy were my go-to along with the Good Book and works relating to it. You'd never guess but I particularly enjoyed Milton."

He fiddles with the PDA to arrange for the books to be delivered to him somewhere along the way to Anna.

"I'm going to make an admission.  I've never read the books, I just like watching some of the older movies." She dabs her lips, "Well, that was good.  Milton.  Really.  Milton.  Paradise Lost.  I'd never have guessed."  She says sarcastically.

Fortunately there's a good place for them to get dropped off- a library, of course.

“I know. Complete shocker, along with Dante”, he replies deadpan.

Having made the arrangements he gets up from the table, picks up the dishes and carries them to the sink.

“Glad you enjoyed it. Been a good while since I last cooked. Sorry for leaving you with the dishes, but I’m sure one of the others can do them in exchange for their share.”

He starts formulating a navigational plan to the library and on to Anna.

“And thanks for the talk. Good to share a bit even if it doesn’t help much. As always, let me know if you need me.”

"Please.  Roommates never do dishes, you know this.  Look who I've got with me.  Journeys?  Yeah, right.  Battles?  Too busy.  Juno?  Good luck even figuring out where she is, I don't even know anymore."

The trip to Anna is a long, circuitous route, but it's one that he's at least reasonably familiar with.

"Yeah, it's good to vent sometime.  Come around any time you want, Daniel.  Food's on me next time, okay?  Good luck with the kid."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:09, Mon 15 Oct 2018.

"They might if you hold the food hostage."

He gets his gear together and moves to the door.

"It's a deal. Till next time, Serenity. And... Thanks."

There's something about her saying the word 'kid' that makes him suddenly consider abortion. He frowns, shakes the thought and starts his journey to Anna.

Maybe he should add Sondok to the list of visits...

Mercifully, nothing bothers him along the entire way.  He's able to pick up the books, head down the halls, and eventually reach the chamber designed for Anna.

The ghost has made herself comfy, well, as much as she can be.  A small couch, a bed, a pair of weights, and a small notepad of paper litter the warded circle.  It's the size of a very small studio apartment, but spartan enough that a Buddhist monk would ask for a little creature comforts.  She looks up as Daniel opens her vault.  Her smile is small, sad, but present.

"Hey."  She says, throat clearing once.  "Looks like you have something for me."

Daniel mirrors her understated smile as he gets in, putting his book-filled bag filled down on her couch. ”Hi. Yeah, I got my hands on what I could from Dumas. And some others. And a sudoku book.”

Having occupied the couch and electing not to sit on the bed, he takes a step to the side and gestures her to have a look.

He’s silent for a good bit, seemingly to let her peruse in peace but also for lack of ideas on what to say. Just as the silence is about to drag on long enough to be awkward, he clears his throat.

”How are you holding up?”

She takes them like a starving woman, eyes welling up with not-quite-tears that she struggles to force away.  "Oh, it's... it's so good someone is making these still."  She holds up the sudoku puzzle, "I used to hate these things.  Nowadays, well."  She puts it aside and looks through the Dumas, setting aside the Count of Monte Cristo immediately.

"It's... hard.  Everything's been hard for a long time.  I miss a lot of things, even the things I hate... do you know it's hard for me to even hate now?"  She flips open the sudoku book and takes out a pencil, "Everything's muted, dulled, boring... but at least I'm not screaming and homicidal."

His smile gains a genuine warmth as Anna clearly likes the books. He quickly reins it in as if smiling too much was inappropriate, though.

”Yeah, the sudoku was kind of a spur-of-the-moment purchase. Figured you could use something like a game even if it’s rather monotonous. There’s one of those choose-your-own-adventure books too, for the hell of it.”

A shadow falls over his features as she speaks of her condition and his eyes move toward the floor for a bit.

”Yeah... I know how undeath affects people in general but of course the theory is much removed from actual understanding or experience. I’m...”

Powerlessness. It was a feeling simultaneously omnipresent and utterly alien to him.

”I’m sorry for what you’ve been put through. But I do think you’re doing as well as you can with the hand you’ve been dealt.”

His eyes raise from the floor to the ghost, despair being pushed aside by determination.

”Right now I guess this is the best I got. But I swear I’ll find a way for you to genuinely enjoy existence again some day.”

"I always cheat at those.  I died too many times otherwise,"  She says with a grimace, "Including one where I was sacrificed by a dark priest- a bit too on-the-nose, wasn't it?"

She sighs and shrugs, "You've apologized for it every time, Daniel, please, stop apologizing any more.  None of it is your fault- time, treachery, none of it was your mistake.  Alright?  Please.  For my sake.  Move past it.  And if you can't, then you should move past me."

There's a long bit of silence as some large cogs grind in Daniel's mind, but finally he sucks it up and sighs.

"You're right. Wallowing in it won't help anyone and it reduces you into a victim. It's just..."

It was strange being around Anna. Looking at it objectively, they'd never truly been much to each other, but something about being around her made him feel raw. Was she just an icon of his failure to him? It wasn't fair to her, it wasn't good for him. She was right, by all accounts. But admitting it in full was beyond difficult.

"It's not that I think it's my fault... Not anymore, not precisely. It's just... What happened with you seems to have been the start of a repeating cycle. I crash through every obstacle, obliterate every enemy, yet everyone I associate with suffers ever more."

He lets out a 'tch', almost amused at his own brooding.

"Here I go laying it on you again. It's not that I'm giving up or losing hope."

"You're fatigued.  Attrition.  It's how we all fail, in the end.  Telomeres degrade, the body shuts down, the blood stops flowing, bit by bit."  She opens up the sudoku book and picks up a pencil, absent-mindedly licking the end before she starts on a puzzle.  "Everyone you associate with, huh?" She looks over at him, "You know, someone visited me a few days ago."

"That sounds like the whispers of the Neverborn to me. I am tired, so deeply I'm only starting to realize how much, but I refuse to accept the cycle will repeat until I'm dead inside."

He's clearly surprised at the visitor. Who could it be in this place? He quirks a brow as he responds curiously to Anna's look.

"...Really? Who? I can't imagine many beyond Smoker or Command who'd get here without a fuss."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:24, Thu 18 Oct 2018.

"The Neverborn whisper a lot of things but don't forget their most powerful weapon is the truth.  Last I checked none of us will last forever."  She pokes at the sudoku board, "Give it a guess. Someone who called me your 'tig ol'biddy goth girlfriend' and a 'hussy' that needs to 'step away from her man' before I get 'rekt son'."

A light flickers in his eyes at the mention of truth.

”The truth means little until put into context. Sure, I’m going to die some day just like everything else. Unlike the gods or demons I’ve never had any illusions otherwise, nor any desire to change that. I’m a mere candle in an infinite void, built of the same decaying matter as everything else in this uncaring universe, struggling without any objective meaning or worth when you step back far enough. But the strength of the Living is being able to zoom in, to create microcosms of meaning that empower us to do anything we dream of. Will it last forever? No, but it will last indefinitely. As long as there’s life. And when there isn’t - well, then there is nobody to give the tragedy meaning anymore. All life may fade sometime in the nebulous future, but it won’t be while I draw breath. It won’t be while my work - my shared cause - my torch is carried on, or replaced by a different light. Yes, my light will fade in time, but it will not be a downward spiral of decay and decrepitude; By the time I die, the Neverborn will have been made to forever remember me.”

...And then the conversation moves on to a whole other direction. His palm instinctively seeks his forehead.

”...Oh. I suppose warding against the Raksha isn’t a very cost-effective measure to take these days.”

He heaves a sigh.

”I’ll try and tell her to play nice when I see her. Chances are she’ll have something better to fuss about anyway... The world became a less bearable place the moment she got exposed to the internet.”

The sermon washes over Anna like a wave over a rock on the beach- the tide recedes and the rock is still there, perhaps a bit more worn down than before.

"Yes, she mentioned that the wards you had are impervious to her charm, her resources, and might have let drop that she let a 'husbando' mess with them for nonspecific 'wifely flavors'.  Honestly, she might be the savior of all humanity, but maybe you should've just dropped her back off in the Grand Canyon."  Anna shakes her head, "Are we certain the internet wasn't made by a fae?"

"Not a day goes by when I don't think the same. On both the account of leaving her to the Grand Canyon and the creation of the internet. It's certainly sufficiently chaotic and filled with excessive emotion to qualify as the best invention ever for the Fair Folk, but I doubt it was actually made by one. Inspired, perhaps."

He retracts the hand from his face and leans on the wall.

"So did she have anything beside a jealous wife routine for her own amusement? If you meant to raise her as an example of someone I've associated with who's doing better I believe we can both agree the matter's... contentious."

"No, just a lot of posturing, like a small dog yapping in front of a mastiff." Anna responds.  Ah, yes- WAL had mentioned that most Imperators, if they got their hands on the Fae, would crumble her to dust almost trivially. "No, I only tried to change the subject a bit.  Maybe a bit lighter.  I did find it almost funny.  She has very, very interesting ideas about our lives, you know.  Almost all of which are so fantastical that I'm not even certain she understands basic human anatomy."

There's a dissonance in Daniel's mind; He'd never actually registered Anna as a threat, even when she was directing an elite death squad of ghosts and lobbing bombs at him. To think she was a mastiff to WAL's little dog seemed like a foreign thought, but no less true.

"...No doubt. I'm pretty convinced her level of understanding fluctuates from willful ignorance to unnerving mastery. Thank you for joining my club of people who let her live against their better judgment, though."

A part of him is curious about what the hell WAL had gone on about exactly, but the rational part declines to ask.

"On the bright side, at least she made your day less boring. I'd assume you don't get too many visitors."

"None besides you.  Nobody else will see me because of you.  I'm sure the number of people who know who I am is fairly low.  But that's how it should be.  I'm a threat."  She says to him, "If your circle falters I could be... puppeted again.  I think it's a good thing that I'm so lonely."

Daniel is silent for a good while, his brow furrowing ever deeper as he weighs something in his head.

"No. It's an awful predicament, however necessary."

He starts slowly pacing through the room to check on the wards inside the room, more to occupy himself than any real concern. He'd gone over the security arrangements a dozen times and personally put up a lot on top of it.

"This gilded cage is certainly eons above your previous enslavement, but I don't think it's enough. I don't want you to exist merely as my prisoner with no contact to the Living. I want to keep you safe, but I also want you to find connections, find something to believe in, reconnect with the humanity torn from you. You are a potential threat, yes, but also a valuable informant and..."

After tracing a finger on a glyph on the wall he stops and looks down, then turns around to face her.

"The Dead have taken so much from us, from me. Sooner or later I will take something back. You deserve better than this."

The wards are not looking so hot.  The Neverborn are corrosive.  But he knew that when he started; a weekly visit and reworking of the wards should suffice to keep them at bay.

"It's a wonderful thing to say, Daniel, but so many people deserve so many things they'll never get." She furrows her brow as she contemplates the puzzle, "Can I make a suggestion?  And I promise this will be a constructive one, and not a 'leave me to my fate' one."

((Learning (Or was it Wu Wei?) to Inflame Anna's Influence: 28+15+10+5(Pacing the Constellations) = 58
Learning to refresh wards: 24+15+10+5(Pacing the Constellations) = 54
Float 3-3))


"I'm well aware of the world being unfair, Anna. That doesn't mean I won't try and change it for the better where I can."

He keeps doing the rounds, reworking the wards as necessary. The longer Anna was cut off from her Neverborn enslavers, the higher her chances of recovery.

"Of course. What is it?"

((Defense is 47, it inflames
Wards can be refreshed w/o roll))

"You should capture as many ghosts as you can."  She says, "Especially Imperators, like me.  I'm not saying to keep us together.  But you're eliminating them when it might be better to interrogate and isolate.  And you can use some of the more insane ones."

Daniel tilts his head curiously.

"Even if we can't cut them off like you? Seems like a big risk. What exactly could we use the insane ones for?

"Why am I anything special?"  She asks, "And I mean in metaphysical terms, Daniel.  And yes.  You can use the insane ones. Training your new exalts, for example.  Do you think my killteam would've had much trouble with a new Lunar?"

"Because you were a formative experience to me. Judge me for allowing myself a drop of personal indulgence if you wish."

He sighs with some frustration, getting back to the glyphs.

"Y'know, beside your position as an Ex-Candlelight operative turned leader of an elite kill-team carrying multiple Malfeas shards, your fate repeatedly used to specifically taunt me. Even without the personal aspect I stand to gain more from you than just about any Imperator I've run into before."

Finally finishing the rounds, he turns back to her.

"Using them as training isn't necessarily a bad idea, though. Lets us have real combat experience in a  mostly controlled environment."

Anna laughs ruefully, "Maybe I should've been more clear!  I meant metaphysically, I'm not different from any other Imperator.  Even before they added more shards to me.  What you did should be enough to capture just about any other Imperator, though I'll be honest, I thought I was done for when you drew those shards out.  But if you've done it once, why not again?"

She finishes one of the sudoku pages, tearing it out and starting another one.  Thankfully it's a thick book.

"Your problem is that right now training is either against each other or in a 100% fatal environment.  You need a mix.  Capture a few Imperators, throw them in an arena, toss in one of your young ones."

It's a surprisingly ruthless thing- and it has the tone of something she's seen or done before.

Daniel just narrows his eyes a bit and sighs at the misunderstanding, but says no more about it.

"I probably could - what remains to be seen is whether the effort is worthwhile."

The idea of using captured Imperators as training is ruthless indeed, but that doesn't really shock him. Instead it makes him wonder.

"That sounds like something you've seen done before. Is that what they do in the prison ships to try and coax an Exaltation into the prisoners? Or is it something Candlelight used to do?"

"It's a long process, what you've been doing.  Working this shard out.  So for the more insane ones you don't have to worry, the ones that are a bit more lucid might be better."

She nods,

"Not quite either.  It's training for the new ghosts.  It's also used to sort from the chaff.  The really useless ghosts get used to train the stronger ones, the ones that fail the next test train the war ghosts... and if you win when you should lose, well, you get the loser's corpus to play with.  I won a lot in the gladiatorial pits."  She sniffs, "I don't like the term gladiatorial either.  That implies I was doing it for someone else's amusement.  There's nothing like that from the Neverborn, they barely even pay attention."

"We'll have to see once it's done. In fact, I intend to do it to other Imperators first to try things out on an expendable subject."

He doesn't really feel bad about it. Some extra suffering for the chance of freedom - or even in case of failure, final rest - should be a welcome gamble for any of the Dead.

He frowns once again as Anna recounts her battles, but sticks to his promise to stop apologizing. Nothing he could've done about it.

"Never took you for a warrior, but in situations like that new sides tend to emerge, and with ghosts I suppose it's mind and soul over matter. In a way it's good to know you ended up to the position on your own rather than because of me."

"The Hook had something to do with that.  The necromancer who killed me didn't just want some sort of... easy pet."  She shudders, "He wanted a fighter, too..."

She trails off a bit.

"So what are you going to do for the rest of your day?"

"Visit some of the other women in my life, I suppose." His tone is more concerned than anything.

"Been a while since I properly visited WAL and then there's Sondok..."

There's a good while of gauging exactly how much to disclose. In the end he figures there's little for him to lose by spilling the beans, though.

"...Who apparently is carrying or already carried my child."

In the vain hope of moving past the subject quickly, he continues.

"And then I'm due for a visit to the Martial Library. Or some other place I could learn to diversify how I manifest my essence."

"... I'm sorry, what."

Anna looks at him blankly.

"Did you say child?  What did that poor child do to deserve that?"

A joke.  It has to be a joke.  The slight, incredulous smile she bears suggests that is indeed the case.

"Sondok.  We're talking about the same Sondok, right.  Big, scary?  Giant Axe?  Number 18 on the Kill List?"

Welp. Couldn’t really blame her for latching on to the subject. At least it was nice to have something to shock and make her smile with, even if it was at his own expense.

 ”Yeah. Giant sword, too. It kind of started as a misunderstanding as I was trying to find a peer to connect with, which she took as an offer of courtship. We did bond over shared toil and duty rather well, I managed to impress her, then one thing led to another and apparently a god of Miscegenation was involved so here we are. I just found out today... through a tabloid journalist. Kinda wondering when, if ever, she was planning to tell me.”

He sighs deeply. It didn’t get any less absurd by explaining it.

”Number 18, huh? You’ll have to disclose the full list. Which rank am I?”

"I'm happy for you.  Well, maybe not for your kid, but that you were able to find some sort of peace for a while.  If you can call Sondok peaceful," She mutters this last bit under her breath.  "Well, I can give you the full list, if you're inclined...  top 20.

1.  White Arcing Lightning.
2.  Core.
3.  Lytek.
4.  Smoker.
5.  Yourself.
6.  Five Days Darkness.
7.  The Red Queen.
8.  Burning Feather.
9.  Battles.
10.  Journeys.
11.  Secrets.
12.  Serenity.
13.  Kyle Weston.
14.  Blue Fox.
15.  Arkady.
16.  H. H. Holmes.
17.  Ilari Lievo.
18.  Sondok.
19.  Tara-Han.
20.  Sunipa."

"I'm not sure I'd use 'peace' for anything related to that series of events..."

He shakes his head a bit, then listens through the list with some surprised raised brows.

"Huh. A few surprises there, especially Smoker. Is he up to something I'm not aware of?"

A beat.

"I mean, obviously he is, but what kind of stuff I'm not aware of that would catapult him that high? He's definitely brilliant and important to the Living, but I would've thought the sheer limits of mortality would push him to the double digits."

She looks at him for a beat,  "He's the only mortal survivor of Candlelight and is the only remaining member of the Living to know Cygnus personally.  He helps handle you, keeps you sane, and is your oldest friend.  He somehow holds very high intelligence position on the Last Refuge despite being a mortal.  And, he's a mortal, with mortal frailty, meaning he's an easy kill if we get the chance.  That puts him very high on the list."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:09, Wed 07 Nov 2018.

"Hm, makes sense."

He rolls his shoulders for a bit.

"On that somewhat somber note, I suppose I should get going. Thanks for the talk, and I hope the books will bring you some joy. Anything else I could bring you next time?"

"Yes.  If you can?  A bit of ink and paper?  I want to try my hand at watercolors."  She pauses, "... Ink painting.  I can't really see that well in color anymore."

"Got it. That might improve when we make progress so I'll bring both ink and colors."

He heads for the door - or gate, as it may be.

"It was good seeing you, Anna. Till next time."

"Nice seeing you too, Daniel.  I hope the rest of your day goes well."

He heads out, leaving her sealed in the room behind- a heavy CLANK that sounds awfully foreboding...
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:51, Thu 08 Nov 2018.

Yeah. The day had been going so well so far, surely that would've been the worst of it?

Next in line would be the Reactor. It'd been quite a while since his last proper visit.

The reactor is pretty far from his current position, and for good reason.  The farther Anna and the Neverborn are from White Arcing Lightning the better.

Along the way he has to leave the Upperdecks and make for the Underdecks, riding the train like a pleb.  Eventually the Great Railway comes to a stop in a town called Trunkistan, and after a few minutes doesn't start up again.  People mutter.  Then the conductor comes on the horn.

"Hello all, there seems to be some sort of conflict in the town ahead... we're working on redirecting around Trunkistan Station.  Please be patient."

Trunkistan. Who came up with these names?

As the train doesn’t budge for some time, he heaves a sigh. Just what he needed in his day... Wait, conflict?

Curious to find out more of this conflict, he makes his way to the doors of his coach, applying a little mix of knowledge of its mechanics  and brute force to open the door without damaging it or leaving it open. Maybe he could yet do something worthwhile today... And besides, he was more likely to arrive faster like this anyway.

The doors are designed so that, on a stop, anyone can get out with a bit of pressure if they really push it open.  Nobody stops him as he steps out of the train, though they're quick to close the door.

The Great Railway moves from a tube to an open rail through the middle of the town, the whole area a cavernous opening in the Last Refuge.  The buildings flanking each side of the railway are made of old metal and wood, giving it the typical ramshackle appearance of the Underdecks.  There are a few bodies already lying across the rails in a pool of blood.  Both of the buildings are full of people firing at each other with automatic weapons across the rail.  Flares of fire essence bolt from one window, suggesting either a Terrestrial or an Elemental involved in the fight.  On the other side there's the tell-tale shimmer of a ward belonging to the rudimentary new school of Physics Thaumaturgy: a so-called Bullet Ward, proof only against the slightest of ricochets and has arguably less protective value than, say, a cinder block.  Magic has a place, but for the most part physics reigns supreme.

There's a discontent frown of annoyance as Daniel regards the firefight. It would seem this was a clash among the Living; combined with the (mostly) mundane weaponry used on both sides, the threat level was not seeming very high. He nonchalantly makes his way into the battleground's middle, bodies purifying in brilliant conflagrations in his wake.

As he reaches his destination he momentarily flares his anima and shouts with a commanding voice that carries over the clangor of battle like that of a stern adult over squibbling children.

"I AM LUCIFER. THIS CONFLICT WILL COME TO AN END AND ITS LEADERS WILL COME TO ME IF THEY WISH TO LIVE."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:22, Mon 12 Nov 2018.

The gunshots and essence bolts stop as Lucifer flares his anima.  There's shouting from both sides, mostly of the panicking kind.  One of the doors slams open and a young man, probably in his late 20s, clean-shaven and wearing a button-up shirt and slacks rushes out.  He holds an assault rifle pointed at the building across from him.  His face is one of absolute panic and urgency.

"Don't let any of them get away!  Slavers!"  Clean-Shaven opens fire on the windows in the building across from him.  But the people in the building behind him must not be friendly either- they open fire, not at their opposite numbers, but at Clean-Shaven!

Without producing a weapon just yet, Lucifer zips to the escaping man to interpose himself between him and the gunfire; a single shimmering platinum wing envelops the man as he grabs the nozzle of the rifle he’s firing.

Slavers? If true, he would have no qualms taking sides in the conflict but he needed a bit more to go on. His voice is stern, matter-of-fact and heavy with a sense of being in control.

”Who are you and what is happening?”

((Awareness to make sense of situation: 35+10=45
Wu Wei to gauge Clean-Shaven’s character and sincerity: 26+15+10 = 51 ))
This message was last edited by the player at 22:55, Mon 12 Nov 2018.

The shots spatter across Lucifer's wings and then stop.

"Jeremy Luke, live here, gang war broke out an hour ago, the Cutters there and the Gorgons behind me,"  He gasps.  Now that he's closer Lucifer can see the man's already bleeding from one badly seeping wound around his midsection, "Cutters traffic girls from the Underdecks, Gorgons run an indentured servitude racket... I saw an opportunity to get at least some of the kids out while they were distracted... but now they're going to try to run for it..."

He's too panicked to not be telling the truth.  This is not a man used to combat.  And if he's right they're making their escape now.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:01, Mon 12 Nov 2018.

He nods, glancing to the heavily bleeding wound in the man’s stomach.

“I appreciate your effort, Jeremy. You’re bleeding. Apply pressure and try not to move. I’ll handle the rest.”

He summons a menace to his voice that rattles the foundations of both gangs’ buildings.

“Cutters! Gorgons! Stop where you are and send your leaders to me to plead your case. Dally or send a decoy and none of you will see tomorrow. Try to run and I will personally hunt you down. I will NOT ask again.”

As he waits (no more than a few minutes) for the gangers to make up their minds, he does what little he can in the way of first aid for Jeremy.

((Inspire to force compliance: 34+20+10=64))
This message was last edited by the player at 23:24, Mon 12 Nov 2018.

"You can't give them time, they'll scatter!"  Jeremy gasps out to him.

His proclamation hangs in the air like the Sword of Damocles.  It takes someone a few seconds to respond.  The Gorgons hang a white flag out of the window.  The Cutters, on the other hand...

"SMOKE YOU!"  One of the Cutters shouts, raising a rather nice-looking anti-material rifle and opening fire at Lucifer's face!
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:43, Mon 12 Nov 2018.

"No they won't."

There's a palpable feeling of menace suffusing the area as Lucifer looks at each building in turn; proponents of supernatural Martial Arts might recognize this as the Righteous Devil Form, compelling the Cutters and Gorgons he'd called out to face him and bystanders to cower. Somewhere, a tumbleweed crosses over the road he's standing on as the poor Cutter fool decides to take his nonexistent chances.

The anti-material shell fired by the ganger becomes a shooting star, melting into slag metres before contact as if crossing a ridiculously strong magnetic field. There's a sneer on his face as he points a finger at the man, sending a single bladed feather from his anima toward him at blinding speed.

As the feather lodges into his assailant's throat, Lucifer bends his finger to call it back; the feather-bullet obeys by lodging into the shooter's spine and unceremoniously yanking him along like a ragdoll until Lucifer's hand is wrapped around his throat.

"You made your choice. Make better ones in your next life."

As he stares disdainfully into the shooter's eyes, the bullet Lucifer shot converts into raw energy inside him; the man's veins glow golden before brilliant lights erupt from his mouth and eyes as life leaves him, his body is purified and his soul forced into Lethe.

Hardly a moment passes before Lucifer looks over his shoulder at the building the Gorgons are huddling in. Another feather zips away from him in a horizontal arc, veering around the building and annihilating the first ganger who'd thought to escape his judgment in a blinding flash.

His voice carries through the panicked shouts with supernatural clarity as he reiterates his terms.

"The only way you're walking out alive is through my clemency. Show yourselves or meet their fate."

A Cutter is reduced to smoke and ash in a blinding instant.  What's left of the bullet falls to the ground a foot from Lucifer; the twisted mass of his rifle clatters just behind it.  Apparently few of the Gorgons tried to escape, but the Cutters are another matter.  Half of them boil out of the front of the building, half the back.  Of the ones rushing to confront him, half open fire with their weapons, the other half have their hands up and behind their heads.

There’s a frown of annoyance boiling into anger on Lucifer’s face as the gangbangers rush to mostly disobey his command in various ways.

Their guns were feeble and backed with nothing but ungrounded bravado; as long as he stood between them and Jeremy he had nothing to worry about so he opts to go for the fleeing ones first.

He gathers that anger into a seething point, then sends it through the building. While the projectile passes through the walls like paper, damage to the structure as a whole is minimal; when it breaches the back wall is another matter entirely, though. As soon as the last wall is breached the fiery bead blossoms into a roaring conflagration that fills the space behind the building with what some could describe as a horizontal beam cannon (or a kamehameha wave if they were a weeb) that vaporizes the fleeing mass of gangers.

Then it’s time for the ones charging at him. Had to hand it to them, these guys really didn’t know when to quit.

His gaze sweeps over the horde over the course of a few seconds; as it passes over the ones whose arms aren’t up, a little sigil is branded on their skin as a mark of coming judgment. Just before the horde comes close enough to have an angle on Jeremy, he swipes both hands in an arc starting crossed from his chest and ending wide to the sides; as he does, his anima flares and a storm of platinum razor feathers fills the air to seek out all who were marked.

In a split second a hundred lives are snuffed out.  Their screams cut off like someone just put them on mute.  Then there's the dull *THUMP* as their corpses hit the ground as bloody unrecognizable masses.

The rest of the Cutters experience a sort of religious experience.  They fall to their knees, gibbering and crying.

"I... uh..."  Jeremy trails off, unable to really put thoughts to words.

Lucifer casts a steely gaze over the sudden silence. His burning crown remains over his head as he gives his next orders with a terrifying calmness.

The Cutters were incapacitated enough; they required no further instruction for the moment.

“Gorgons, to me. Now.”

He turns to Jeremy then, his expression stern but somehow absent of the menace he was radiating everywhere else.

“The slaves, Jeremy. Now is your chance to liberate them. I also need you to identify the leaders of each gang if possible.”

The Gorgons hesitantly leave the building, hands up.  Jeremy points at one of them, a thick-set man with a stump for a hand and a scarred-over cheek. "Jack Grin,"  He points out, "Cutter leader's a Dragon-Blooded... I don't see him."  He stands up painfully, clutching his side.  Adrenaline must've worn off. "I'll get the Cutter Girls first."

Jack Grin keeps his hand in the air, stepping forward towards Lucifer.  "They ain't slaves.  All perfectly legal.  By the books.  You can see the account.  Ours are, I mean.  Cutters aren't."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:34, Sat 17 Nov 2018.

Was this guy really trying to pull this defense?

“It seems you’re mistaking me for some sort of bumbling cop or pencil-necked prosecutor, Jack Grin. You could not be further from the truth.”

He turns toward the man, focusing his gaze and pressure on him as he regards him VERY carefully.

“Tell me you really believe you’re doing nothing wrong, that you’re not the least bit unfair about your indentured servitude racket, that you’re not doing this for personal gain at the willful expense of others. But if that’s the play you’re going to make, be sure you’re 100% honest - because if you’re not, it’ll be the last lie you ever tell.”

He watches the man likely start sweating - if not, it’s much more telling of his level of depravity.

“Or you can drop the bullshit, confess your sins, accept that your days profiting from the misery of others - whatever mental acrobatics you’ve done to justify them - are over and maybe you’ll convince me the Living are better off with someone like you onboard.”

"Hah, sure, it's unethical as shit but it's legal.  You want to start on this sort of crusade, go ahead, there's other ways of making money."  Jack Grin is scared but at the same time not TOO scared, which is weird- usually it's one or the other. "Really the problem's goods and services.  The economy is all out of whack. Core's got a lot of plates spinning but given enough data you're gonna get outliers, right?"

A few people start stumbling out of the Cutter stronghold.  A dozen naked women of varying ages, from too young to just before middle age, hands up in the air, crying.  Most of them are covered in bruises and whipmarks.  Jeremy follows grimly.

"Tell you this.  We never did that shit," Jack Grin's composure starts to fail.

"Start? I started this crusade on Earth over a decade ago, Jack Grin, and you are a hair's breadth away from being a forgotten footnote in it."

He glances over his shoulder at the beaten women.

"Your slavery ends here. Take what you need from the corpses of those who did this to you. Do you know where the Dragon-Blood who led them is?"

Then it's back to Jack with redoubled intensity.

"That you didn't do that is the sole reason you're getting to plead your case instead of lying in a crumpled heap with the rest of them. But if that's the best you can say, that's about to change very soon."

He steps closer, his anima filling the entirety of the Gorgon leader's vision.

"This is the last time I will repeat myself, Jack. I am not a policeman. I am not some lowly magistrate. I do not give a shit about whether your actions are legal, I care if they're just and benefit the Living. I have killed countless men like you who thought no one was watching, that they were safe gaming the system even as it brought suffering around them, that they were just doing what was natural, and I will not hesitate to add you to the list with zero regard to your racket's legitimacy. Let me put this as clear as I can, Jack Grin: if you do not convince me you'll turn your life into something both ethical and beneficial to the Living - and follow through with it - I will kill you. I will watch you burn as you realize how much your ill-earned money and power helped you in the end."

As Jeremy hopefully continues to the Gorgons' building, Lucifer gets a thoughtful expression.

"They say you can judge a man by how he treats those he has no particular reason to treat well. If I asked your "indentured servants" about what to do with you, what would they say? I've half a mind to do just that."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:54, Tue 20 Nov 2018.

"Hole in the floor hull," One of the women says- she's a bit more 'there' than the others, recovering from the shock of rescue quickly. "As soon as you announced he ran for it."

Jack Grin listens.  He looks at the women and shakes his head.  "You know what?  Fuck it.  Boys?" He calls out to his Gorgons, "Think it's about time, ay?"  He looks at Lucifer, and though the man's definitely a smarmy pile of shit- there's something that Lucifer recognizes immediately.  The man has Seen Shit, and in the context of the Last Refuge- his age, the missing hand, the scar- he'd survived a brush with some of the stronger Neverborn contingent.  The dead look in his eyes suggests an Abyssal.  This is not exactly an uncommon thing.  Jack Grin was already a broken man long before Lucifer came around, and he'd spread his brokenness around like many other direct survivors.  "You're right, ya know.  Totally right.  You wanna declare us totally fucked like that, then fucking do it, because nothing we say's going to convince your ass otherwise.  You gonna kill us, at least kill us right and shove us in a ship and let us take some potshots at the Dead before we bite it.  I don't fucking care anymore."

Jeremy limps over to Lucifer's side.  " 'If you drive us out, send us into the herd of pigs...' "  He murmurs, only barely loud enough for Lucifer to hear.

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.

"Cataphractism is not really my thing,"  She admits.  "And no, I don't think it's because of Biryu!  That uptight girl is missing a part of herself and a child is its own being, right?  It's not her, so it's no replacement for Biryu.  Maybe just maybe she wanted a kid."

She walks over to him and waves a hand.  A chair appears behind him, comfy and covered with green plush.

"Take a seat and tell me more about your day, hubby!"

"Funny hearing someone call her a girl. Still, depends how you look at it. A child is not the same as Biryu, but it is something born of you. Still, I'm inclined to agree; I don't think she would consider anything a true replacement for the part she's lost."

He sits down, one elbow on an armrest and legs spread in a warrior-king sort of manner.

"It's actually a day off. Not by personal choice, just that for once there's no fires to put out that need my immediate attention. I'm not even sure when the last time was."

He scratches his temple a bit as he backtracks through the day, eyes resting on the Fae's ephemeral form. A little voice nagged reminded him it was all just a game, a manipulation, an approximation of empathy... But maybe he didn't mind playing along for the moment.

"Anyway... I set off for some steaks, talked a man selling void-tainted rat sausages to make less seedy business, ended up forming a possible counter-movement within Exercitus Terrae, cooked the steaks at Serenity's place to avoid my self-proclaimed high priestess, visited Anna, ended up between a gang war on the commute here, killed a hundred men and reformed the community there to hopefully seek a better life together."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:48, Fri 14 Dec 2018.

"Eight and a half months ago,"  She says as she immediately settles on his lap, an arm snaking around his shoulder like a stalking python.  She plays with his shirt with one hand while the other strokes his hair, fingers splitting thousands of times until they functionally become a comb.

"And did you make any friends?"  Her eyes are alight with pink and white lightning, "Was it at least fun?  How long was your gang war?  Did it make your blood sing?  Did strange rhythms beat in your heart?"

Daniel rests a hand on WAL's thigh as she takes her place.

"To tell you the truth... Not much. The gang war took maybe a minute and made me feel little more than frustration. It's something I've seen time and time again, people broken in the despair of our age and spreading that brokenness around. Lacking vision of their place in the grand scheme of things. I just did what I could to call out the true enemy and instill enough light to drive it back to the shadows."

He looks to the lightning crackling in her eyes. Was that his type, ancient spirits with celestial effects in their eyes? Psh.

"I think I succeeded this time around, though. Left one loose end in the form of a Dragon-Blood who led the worse of the gangs, but I think he might be smart enough to not return to those hoods. Or even if he did, find himself unable to return to his shenanigans in the same magnitude. That's how he would draw my attention, and the day he comes in my sight is the day he dies."

"Well... that's not right,"  She says, quite unamused.  "That's not the way it's supposed to be."  She withdraws her hand combing through his hair, "It wasn't supposed to be like THAT.  And a Dragon-Blooded?  What is THAT all about!"

She shimmies a bit in place, content at her location but also with a bit of annoyed energy.

"What's the point of a day off if you don't even have fun?!"

"I thought it might be relaxation. Seems the world disagreed."

He gains a frown as he looks at her. Was this some sort of trick she'd set up that backfired?

"...What do you mean it wasn't supposed to be like that? Was this something you were involved in or knew about?"

"Err... well, kiiind of?"  She remarks.  She swivels in place, her back rotating with her unnatural flexibility. "One of my nobles met a Man, and we got to talking and flirting, and there was a wonderful WONDERFUL ball... and while dancing he promised he could make all my dreams come true, which is LEGIT, right?  But I had a test for him!  I told him that all my dreams could already come true but one, that my True Love would have a wonderful day, meet a wonderful friend, right wrongs, eat enchanted food, you know...  and he said all he needed was a single hair, a single one!  Which I of course gave him from the stockpile, and he said that today would be the day! But it didn't completely work.  What did you do wrong?"

"........"

Daniel inhales veeeerrrry slowly, then exhales, then pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes again.

"You...That..."

No, this time he couldn't contain it.

"I don't even know where to start with what went wrong. Maybe the fact that you probably made a deal with BRAHE. You essentially made a wish with a fucking evil genie! You gave the biggest thorn in my side a mystic connection to me! Only you could fall for a ruse as cheap as this!"

He jolts up, tipping the chair over and quite possibly flinging WAL in the air in the process.

"The 'wonderful friend' would be Pauline, who I thankfully avoided. The 'enchanted food' would've been the void-tainted rat sausage. The wrongs righted were nothing more than standard everyday fare except with even more idiotic people than usual! I preached to steer some teens from Exercitus Terrae to the right path but they were probably too high on bath salts to remember a word, and by all reckoning Brahe is laughing his ass off somewhere right now at my expense! THE ONLY WRONG I DID TODAY WAS OPENING MY EYES IN THE MORNING!"

A kick hits the chair with enough force to instantly turn it back into fine gossamer dust.

"Wait, how do you know it's even him?"  WAL asks defensively as she floats backwards; her body is not to touch the floor. "It wasn't a bad guy, or else my noble would've fallen apart just at his touch!  I mean how bad can it be?!"

She puts her hands on her hips.

"You righted a wrong and fixed a community, right?  You had steaks with a Sidereal, which I bet tasted AWESOME even though it's not Fairy food, right?  You killed a bunch of scumbags and reformed a community with almost no effort, RIGHT?!  All that's missing is a new wonderful friend!  The friend was supposed to be new!"  She sprouts wings from her back, white feathers with black razored edges, glistening with red veins.  "Wait, did I say that?  Eh... probably... but it was supposed to be a new friend!  I should've known, you Exalts don't play so nice with storytelling magic!  But the point was to have you RELAX for once and you won't RELAX and it's making me stop RELAXING."

"There's degrees of 'bad guy', and Brahe is maybe a single one away from the Abyssals. The pool of suspects who possess the means, the will and the gall to cast such a curse on me is a shallow one indeed, and looking back to every moment that went wrong - which would be JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING TODAY, MIND YOU - I now recognize the subtle taint of his involvement!"

As WAL doubles down on the defense, his anger reaches a boiling point.

"Stop relaxing? Stop... Relaxing. Are you... Are you seriously trying to guilt ME for not relaxing after YOU hand the GREATEST THORN IN MY SIDE all he needs to ruin my day on a silver platter?!"

As if to call and raise her sprouting wings, Lucifer's Anima bursts forth with searing intensity, crown blazing with barely contained rage and blood-stained wings lashing angrily every which way.

"YES, YOU SHOULD'VE KNOWN! Everything - EVERYTHING - even hinting toward good today has been the result of me salvaging it from a pile of shit! I took ZERO pleasure from killing those poor fucks, I cooked the steaks MYSELF after barely avoiding eating VOID-TAINTED GROUND RAT, my preachings to Exercitus Terrae were pearls before drug-addled swine! Every situation has been mundane misery turned up to eleven. I'd rather have spent the day getting non-stop pummeled by Abyssal prototype weaponry than this shit! All because you - Luminary and manipulator as you're wont to be - are more gullible than the simplest child! If you wanted to do something nice, MAYBE you could've tried just about ANYTHING beside handing my hair to some slick bastard you just met in the hopes of supernaturally fucking with my day? You know, maybe visit me and watch a movie, cook together, ANYTHING BUT THIS SHIT?!"

If there's anything nearby that's not important to the reactor's functionality nearby, it's getting pulverized right about now.

"I've fucking HAD IT with ancient bitches using me!"

There's nothing more to smash in the reactor room but WAL.

"OH, SURE.  JUST THAT EASY TO GET YOUR ATTENTION, HUH."  WAL snaps back at him, "How long has it been, huh?  Since I've been stuck in here with nothing to do?  Know why there aren't any towering spires or fawning courtiers?  Almost all of my personal energy is getting sucked into this ship!  Visit you?  I'm a self-imposed prisoner!  Two fifths of my being are wrapped into keeping this ship active!  Fine, you know what? Let's go see a movie."

The white globe of the reactor, once a pulsing, glowing white, begins to fade to dull gray.

"Great idea!  I'm just going to leave,"  She lands on her feet, "I mean, I only need sentient interaction to maintain my hold on my personal consciousness, right, so this is good for EVERYONE.  Because what's good for Daniel is best for me, and what's best for me is best for the living.  C'mon!  Let's go!  I've got to make use of the first time I've seen you in three quarters of a year!"

"Yeah, OF COURSE, take the one slip in what I say to focus on and turn the blame around! I know you can't leave, but you DAMN WELL know why I don't visit as well!"

He steps closer to WAL, grabbing her by the shoulder to lift her up from the floor. Not unnecessarily forceful, but enough to ensure she's not actually depriving the Last Refuge from its lifeblood.

"You think you're the only one sacrificing herself for the greater good? Yeah, I'm SO SORRY that ensuring the continued existence of the Living - YOURSELF INCLUDED - is SUCH a bore! Good thing I'M living it up doing what I please just so I can ignore you!"

His eyes are locked on hers, relinquishing his hold of her as the worst of his rage begins to subside.

"Look, here's how it's gonna go. You acknowledge and apologize for your well-intentioned fuckup, I apologize for my prolonged neglect, we avoid this visit being added to the clusterfuck of things gone wrong today and spend the time on something worthwhile instead. Like formulating revenge on Brahe, that fucker. How's that sound?"

He's no expert in wyld-energy.  Nobody really is, nowadays.  How much she's taking or adding to the reactor is a bit of a mystery.  So, in essence, he can't tell.  But he IS dealing with a fundamentally selfish, self-absorbed creature...

"THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IS THAT I AM THE MOST IMPORTANT,"  She shouts back at him as soon as he grabs her shoulders, but then quiets when his tone softens.

A third arm extrudes from behind her shoulders.  In two delicate fingers is a single black hair.  Short.  Maybe turning a little grey.

"I'm a gullible idiot, huh?!"

Daniel's experience with the Wyld was that intention rules; the best way to accomplish something was to do something to further it, no matter what that something may be. "Best guess" was the best he could do.

He tilts his head somewhat at the sprouting extra arm and the hair it's holding.

"Yeah. Not so much as to not hedge your bets though, apparently."

"Well, I mean... it's probably his.  Maybe.  The noble didn't manage to say much before I ate her,"  WAL says matter-of-factly, "We do need to figure out a way for me to make proper kids!  Not the halflings, but you know, real people.  Real Fae.  If I can get another one of me it'd be so much fun!  And maybe we can power more, who knows."

She hands the hair to Daniel with her spare hand.

"I'm not a specialist when it comes to cursing though.  But nothing worse than what he did to you!"

"We can barely handle one of you as is. Any ideas on where to start with in the absence of an actual second Fae?"

He takes the hair offered, giving it a vengeful glare before wrapping it in a tissue and putting it in his pocket. Brahe was about to have himself a very bad day sometime soon.

"I'll figure it out."

"Wellllll, when in doubt and looking for a thaumaturgist, I'd go to Juno but she never likes being seen so screw her." She begins floating again, waving a hand and forming a small Disney-esque castle far, far away. "Orrr I could make a goblin good at thaumaturgy.  It would work!  Sort of."

"Thaumaturgist? Are we talking about your procreation or cursing Brahe now? I'm almost tempted to take your latter suggestion for the latter purpose. As for the first... Well, I'm convinced I could figure it out but I'm uncertain if I want to."

"No no no, I can procreate the REALLY HARD way with enough normal breeding... or with you, I guess, though your Solar nature will make it more Solar than Fey 75% of the time..."  She puts a finger to her cheek in thought, "Nah!  I can make a thaumaturgist goblin to cast a curse on Brahe!  We can make him fart spiders or something."

"Y'know, there's a saying among the Finns on the ship: Haste makes nothing but bastards. Or more directly translated, piss-headed children. While we say that good things come to those who wait."

Wonder how much that applied to his own apparent offspring...

"I'm not convinced farting spiders would be much of a difference to his normal life. No, we want him noticed by all the wrong people. Put into the spotlight with contacts NOT of his own design. Get stuck on the train with Pauline Smitters preaching her misguided gospel about my greatness. Find his cronies putting up a mini-shrine to me in the break room. Fantastical curses are nothing compared to mundane misery."

"Hahaha, that's hilarious!  Everyone knows Finland never existed."  She laughs a little, "Oh, but his LIFE is mundane misery.  Everyone's is here!  Anyone who doesn't spend all their time just with me is wallowing in despair forever." She twitches a hand and a waterfall cliff erupts from the 'entrance', making a gorgeous fairy glade of sunshine and rainbows and little kittens with eyes half the size of their head.

"Didn't it? So you've got competition in figments of imagination running wild on the ship."

With the situation more or less calmed down, Daniel breathes in the disgustingly refreshing forest glade air and sighs.

"Some prefer the ugly truth to the beautiful lie. Anyway, I'll figure out a suitable retribution for the bastard later. What have you been up to beside being lonely and forlorn?"

"Frigging Finns," She mutters under her breath.

"Well, let me tell you in exhaustive detail!"

Her life- lives- are astoundingly varied, complex, and excruciatingly similar as time goes on.  For a being of utter imagination she's got a limited repertoire.  The beautiful ingenue who's also inexplicably badass getting rescued by princes/Exalts/sweaty workers and then in turn rescues them from something even worse is a tired trope.  But one little thing pops up that he catches.

"- so after we passed the wyld pocket a few points ago -"

Daniel struggles to keep his eyes from glazing over after he starts losing track on which story is which, but snaps into focus as by a stroke of lightning as he catches something VERY out of the ordinary.

"Hold up. Wyld pocket? THE Wyld pocket? That we passed?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:50, Sat 12 Jan 2019.

"Well, yes."  She says, "We've passed, ummm, three of them.  They're pockets though, I mean, you didn't notice them?"  She asks, head tilting, "Remember New Jersey?  They were like that.  Just little pockets of unreal space.  But we're passing more of them!  Which is a good thing, we're coming up to a real wyld zone."

"Really? All this time I'd thought there was just the one, limited or not. I certainly haven't noticed any of them or heard them come up with others either."

He scratches his jawline with his thumb thoughtfully.

"Are Command or Core aware of this? With the right mystical tools and people, even small Wyld pockets could be foraged for a lot of materials otherwise hard or impossible to find."

He leans on an altogether too colorful tree in the fairy glade.

"I know distance and time are wonky when it comes to the Wyld, but by 'coming up to' do you mean 'actually reaching in the near future' or just 'getting closer to'?"

"New Jersey is a simplification.  They're more like bubbles,"  She tells him, "That pop when you push them too hard!  Sure you could run me into it and I could spin off some stuff, but it's just as likely it'd collapse and leave me sucking space.  Or leave you with purple skin.  I mean, they're not viable anymore. They're dangerous even for us.  If things were normal, if this timeline wasn't fucked, sure! Do it!  But as they are now?  Neverborn have already kinda killed them."

Her eyes go a little distant.

"There's still one.  It's still so... so far away.  I can feel it like a fat man can sense a McDonalds.  It may take us a long time."

”And here I was almost about to find something positive, thinking that such pockets might mean the Neverborn’s reach is weaker here to allow for even pockets of chaotic possibility.”

He shakes his head, sighing.

”We’ll get there. Someday, somehow. I just hope we’re still Living by that point.”

"It is weaker, just not as weak as you think.  It's still a positive sign!  Just one we can't be TOO excited about.  Eventually we'll have to drift into one of them and see if we can mine them like you said," She drifts over behind him and summons a floating cloud with big wobbly eyes, "C'mon.  Lay back down I want to play with your hair some more." 

"You're right, even small improvements are still improvements. Gotta count your blessings."

Daniel regards the cloud and its googly eyes for a moment before chuckling and lying down.

"It might be nice, exploring a Wyld pocket together. Just like old times."

"I don't think I can do that.  Maybe I can send a goblin with you," She says as she starts to stroke his hair with a long comb, "Fact is, if I leave here a lot of people will die, and while I kinda... don't care... (sorry!)... I know you'd get preeeeetty mad.  Also I'm pretty sure Core has shut me in here pretty much for good.  Judging by the wards I've found microscopically inscribed all over the reactor, if I try to leave, my head explodes!  So it's like the Grand Canyon all over again.  I even recognize Hatalii text..."

She puffs a bit of air out of her mouth.  A tournament arises in the far distnace, tents with thousand of flapping flags, the crash of steel upon steel while a ziggurat rises to take the hearts of the losers.

"Huh. Figured being in a Wyld pocket might allow for a relatively safe and costless short-term exit, and you're no doubt the most skilled Wyld manipulator on board so having you pop out could've been worth it. Guess we'll have to make do with the best goblin you can make. Or get you a proper kid. That seems to be all the rage about now."

Daniel looks to the clangor of the fantastical arena in the distance with some interest before focusing back to his company.

"But yes, shirking your role as Reactor would generally be bad and make me rather mad."

"I'd joke about your bargaining position but you have all the cards,"  She says soothingly, "After all, if I have to listen to Core talk to me for five more minutes I may very well calcify in place.  Turn into a solid statue, weeping, clawing at the door to try to escape.  I mean, then you'd all DIE, but it'd suck for me most of all."

Her fingers split and split again.  Hundreds of them start massaging his scalp.

"But I suppose I can make you a lovely simulacrum to take with you if we run across another wyld pocket.  Any requests?"

"Michael's a brilliant man but even when he walked on two legs he was more machine than person. As is to be expected from a Chosen of She Who Lives In Her Name, I suppose."

He sets down on the ground(?), sighing deeply in an attempt to relax.

"I mean, Assuming my Heart worked well enough before. Meant I didn't have to worry about protecting someone less sturdy than myself. If that's not an option, just have her be able to stay alive and support me, whether by being mobile and ranged or otherwise survivable."

"Oh no, I can't make a goblin like that.  They don't have graces.  You'd be stuck with one that's flesh, blood, and basically amazing programming courtesy of yours truly.  So, 'she'?  You want a woman?"  She leans over him, where he's supported by the cloud, "Tellllll me what you want her to look like."

"Not in particular, just assuming by the brunt of your creations. Besides, better the devil you know."

He keeps his gaze fixed on her eyes - with some difficulty - as she leans over him, then gives a chuckle.

"Look, I need a comrade for the mission, not a consort. It wouldn't compare to the real thing in any case."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:29, Tue 29 Jan 2019.

"No, what could?  But your desires are my concern," The soulless, formless abomination croons in his ear, "If it would keep you from impregnating demon and ghosts for a bit maybe that might be worth *almost* lowering your standards." She winks at him once, "Not many champions of man can be said to have been given such an offer.  Though, I suppose I might have to give up some things to make her competent at wyldcrafting..."

"In my defense, as far as I know I've only done the former and even that was much more her doing than mine."

He runs a finger down from her jaw to her clavicle.

"Thanks for making me feel special, but I think I'm the last person you should ask in order to get me a healthy relationship. I clearly have no idea what the hell I'm doing and getting involved with something tailored to my desires would be creepy to say the least."

"Hahahahahahah!  AAAAAHAHAHHAAHHAA!  Healthy relationship!" She laughs until there are tears of crystal dropping onto his chest, "Oh WOW Lucy.  WOW.  Healthy!  HEALTHY relationship.  With a Fae.  Or a Fae goblin.  Are you kidding me?!  No no no no, I'm offering you a spectacularly unhealthy one you don't have to care about!  No responsibilities, no judgment!  Do as thou wilt!"

She taps his chest with a long, sharp nail.

"Oh but thank you so much for the laugh!"

Daniel quirks a brow as WAL loses her shit. If she had a need to breathe he might be concerned for her oxygen level. Finally he lets a smirk show, though.

"Hey, you're the one offering fairytales so might as well go hard. Reality's proven just as incapable of it."

The glassy nail would probably draw blood from a lesser man, but as is Daniel pays the gesture no mind.

"You're forgetting a rather prominent source of judgment in that equation. I most certainly am not exempt from it - quite the opposite - and you just mentioned the goblin would be a notable expenditure of power; that is, not expendable."

"Wellll so long as you get me the shreds..." She says, "... I suppose a few sacrifices would be out of the question?  I mean... I could always use more Essence.  And the ambient emotions of the Last Refuge are sustaining, but they're just crumbs.  If you could shunt a few people my way you wouldn't mind seeing again..."

He frowns deeply.

"Well... If it was just killing people, I wouldn't mind handing you some lowlives who are better off dead. I mean, I killed a throng of people just today. The problem is you Raksha are said to devour people's souls, which would imply that you eating someone might remove them from the cycle of reincaranation, which is a definite no-no."

Scratching his jaw with a thumb, he delves deeper to his understanding of the metaphysical, to the dichotomy of hun and po and what parts of those exactly get drained by the Fae. He might even take a bit longer than necessary to be sure - to keep her in suspense, perhaps.

"Good thing you only eat the Po, huh? Yeah, I'm not making any promises but I might just make someone I'd kill useful instead."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:23, Wed 13 Feb 2019.

"No way am I touching the Hun anyway.  I knew a few Fae who'd try.  It never ended up well for them.  You see, emotions, dreams, all that wonderful stuff is formless gossamer, ephemeral essence!  It's perfect for us!  But the Hun isn't, it's a solid rigid punch to the stomach.  It can even alter you.  Like... imagine the lamb you just ate giving you horns and an overwhelming need to eat grass.  Except that this also pretty much kills you and turns you into a statue.

Hmm... yeah, if you hand me some of them, I can even guarantee their death's as nice or horrible as you'd like.  Either way amuses me and feeds me at the same time!"

"I probably won't much care how you kill them. Not unless it's to send a message, which getting fed to the Reactor can be in and of itself."

He waves a hand dismissively.

"Now that you've got hope of a return to your golden days of human sacrifice, how about we move on to something less diabolical?"

"You saaaaaay that but I want to make sure that's actually the case.  I don't want anyone crawling up my ass because I offed someone by making them run screaming for a subjective eternity while I chased them with rabid monkeys with their father's face and dick..."  She starts to say more but then she trails off as Lucifer's request penetrates her solipsism.

"... Diabolical?  You wound me!  I'm not like the Yozi.  But fine.  How are the other Exalts?  Any besides Brahe annoying the piss out of you?"

”Fair enough. Let me amend my statement: as long as you kill them without involving anyone else or drawing it out unnecessarily, I don’t care.”

His frown eases as the subject changes... Although it actually loops back as the thought progresses.

”Well, aside from the ever-present mild irritation of Michael... There’s this Fire Aspect Dragon-Blooded who led the worse of the gangs I decimated today. Gunnar Hagen. Ran away as soon as I showed up. Here’s a little something to alleviate your boredom with, actually; find him and I’ll bring him here. A dragon-blood should be a proper feast compared to some random mortals, no?”

"You want him dead?" She asks, "You know... there's an old tradition called the Wyld Hunt.  Some of my buddies used to do it.  Flying through the air, shrieking and laughing, chasing down anyone we saw, it was great!... But we always did it with a specific target in mind.  I could make a bunch of hunting goblins and Wyld Hunt my way to him.  Leaving the civvies alone, of course," She says quickly to soothe him, "Just the deserving you point my way!"

There's a glint in Daniel's eye at the suggestion, but ultimately he shakes his head.

"...Nnnno. Not yet, at least. It could get ugly, and considering he's a Fire Aspect that carries a significant risk of severe collateral damage. I want to find and overpower him before he can flee or cause a distraction, and shrieking spectral riders would make that rather difficult. They're not strong enough to take him out in time."

A little glimmer remains, however.

"I think your usual sort of goblins are better suited to the task; he seemed to be the basic sex slaver gang boss sort of scum so feminine wiles should work just fine. Once he's found out, though, in the absence of King Arthur or Fionn mac Cumhaill I might just be convinced to lead a spectral host for its retribution. It would send a message about fleeing my judgment... But we would need to differentiate it from an incursion of the Dead. Many legends paint the Wild Hunt as vengeful ghosts, after all."

"I could do the other kind!  Skulking and sneaky, knives in the dark..."  She then trails off, knowing how THAT one is going to go over, and her lips purse in a pout.  "Fine then, super-sexy-mini-mes to find him and then we can make plans."  She turns upside down and floats upwards abruptly, her hair falling in front of Lucifer's face. "Man this took MONTHS.  Anyway, I mean... uhm... have you given some special thought to learning some Wyld Magick?  Would you want to build things with me?"

"I know and appreciate the value of knives in the dark, but I would not trust either of us with such an operation. That's more Lyla's territory."

He seems momentarily perplexed at WAL's mention of time, but quickly dismisses it as another of her whimsicalities. No doubt there were differences in their perceptions that would only compound his confusion if he pursued the subject.

"I have, to be honest. To my knowledge there are few Sorcerers of my caliber aboard the Last Refuge, and while we now have a Twilight it might... take a while until Arkady broaches the subject."

He runs his fingers through the hair dangling in front of him, regarding WAL with a thoughtful gaze sprinkled with intrigue.

"Not to mention my rather particular connection to the last remaining Noble Raksha in Creation. Yes, dipping my foot into Wyld Shaping under your tutelage might well be a worthwhile endeavor."

"Sorcery!  Feh!  Sorcery is, Daniel, my love, my Lucifer, my golden angel, host, holder of my sword, holder of my heart, not-holder-and-stroker of my hair... sorcery is futzing with the warp of the parallel timeline.  Wyld magick is the weft, my dear, a totally different thing.  Mortals can manipulate the warp, but only Exalts and Fae can manipulate the weft."

She tosses her head and hair whacks Daniel across the face lightly in a slight rebuke.  What she's rebuking him for, of course, is very much up to interpretation.

"You should most definitely dip your foot and other unrelated body parts in this greatest of arts!  Let us start the first lesson.  Tell me a story."

Daniel accepts the honorifics more naturally than one might think until his train of thought is interrupted by the slight hair whip, bringing a momentary frown over his features as he considers whether he'd said something disagreeable. He soon abandons the notion of unraveling that mystery, however.

"I'm aware they're not the same thing, but warp and weft are part of the same cloth, no? No doubt mastering both will help one weave a greater tapestry."

He quirks a brow at the sudden onset of learning, but by no means rejects it. He discards his first impulse of asking what kind of story she'd like to hear - deducing it was not the point of the exercise - so he draws on the first thing that comes to mind when it comes to stories. The beginning.

"A story? Hm... Alright. Let me tell you of Ginnungagap, of life born between fire and ice, of the primordial ice giant Ymir and his fall at the hands of the Gods, of Creation born from death and reality forged from chaos."

He starts recounting a version of the Norse myth of creation. It seemed a fitting subject.

"no no no no no no!"  She half-babbles, half-groans.  "You're playing right into everything's hands!  Bad!"  She clutches her face with frustration, then tears out huge swathes of pink-and-white hair that never seems to really diminish anyway. "Tell me a STORY.  Not a myth.  Not something anyone's heard.  A STORY.  Your story!  Not a real one!  The first thing you have to learn about the Wyld!  Don't ever ever ever ever use a story that isn't your own!  You're not taking power if you do, you're BORROWING it!"

Daniel frowns as he considers.

"I'll admit borrowing from something powerful and making it my own is something I'm used to doing."

He scratches the side of his nose while he thinks, WAL's overblown tantrum barely registering on his radar.

"So something that's mine, but not real. Hmm... Alright. Does it have to be about me or can I tell my story about something else? Say, the shitty day Brahe is about to have in the near future? Or the society I wish to build once we reach the New World? Or something altogether fantastical like an adventure I never had?"

"As fantastical as you can get.  This is exercise," She tells him seriously, "Use the wyld mundanely and you're using a bazooka to shoot a fruit fly.  Not only does it kill the fruit fly as easily as a spider, but you're wasting valuable bazooka ammunition.

Stretch your muscles.  Lift some heavy narrative weight.  The important thing here is to make something totally, irrevocably yours.  You'll need to build it,"  She tells him, "Piece by piece, brick by brick; some bricks may be larger, some pieces smaller, and there may be gaps.  Then when we make one, we make another, and another, and then- then we hammer them together and twist them around and make them circular."

"As fantastical as I can get."

There's a long pause as Daniel scours his brain for something that was fantastical yet still personally relevant, something he cared enough to make a meaningful story about.

Finally he raises a finger in suggestion.

"The how about I stop borrowing from an existing pantheon and describe a new one instead?"

Unless his idea is shot down, he takes a deep breath, straightens his back and takes on the guise of a storyteller sitting in front of an amphitheater, a lecture hall, or perhaps a planetarium.

"Let me tell you of the Godheads of the New World. There was Creation before their arrival, but so is the world shaped by them that such a history seems irrelevant. Such is as well the world they left behind, for their presence is what defines the spotlight of Creation; while where they came from may define their history, they are each transcendent in their nature and thus able to hold rein of the Pillars of Creation just like their own Fate as they reign over the New World. They are a pantheon of beings who once held different labels - Human, God, Exalt, Demon, Fae - but in strife and struggle they found such distinction secondary to what truly defined them; Purpose, Ambition, Unity. It is through forsaking their differences and finding their individual truths that they learned to break destiny and shape reality; overcame challenges impossible to overcome; time and again they wrested victory, hope and life from where there was supposed to be only Void and bitter failure."

He regards WAL's expression as he speaks, although now that he'd gotten the story going his enthusiasm was rising enough to keep going even if she wasn't entirely happy with it.

"The Godheads of the New World are beings defiant of their given nature who, rather than be shaped by fate and circumstance, transcended to shape Creation in their image instead. First among them is Sol Resurgens, Lightbearer, Morning Star, the Incandescent, who was to be a Slayer and Destroyer, but at his Zenith overcame blind hatred and instead directed his judgment at the injustice of Creation, finding his true nature as a Leader of Men and the Guiding Light of the Living."

He'd definitely gotten carried away there but hey, she'd told him to.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:00, Mon 06 May 2019.

Lucifer's a long way from controlling the warp like she can, but he can certainly conjure up some visuals (as he'd already shown before).  His Fae 'girlfriend' populates the amphitheater with thousands of copies of her, each as heartbreakingly gorgeous as the last, each wild and confusing.

WAL-PRIME almost- ALMOST- looks like she's about to interrupt him as soon as he says 'Exalt'.  But she's shushed by the other audience members.

"So who's the guiding star of the gods?"  Someone calls out from the far right,

"The Fifth Day of Darkness, God of the Embers of Dying Stars, leading in opposition to the Incandescent, angry at falling in importance to the others!"  A third chimes in.

Daniel frowns at the idea of Five Days Darkness being his opposition. While he was genuinely angry at him that one moment after the Buchenwald, he held no particular animosity toward him in general. Even if he was almost as distant to him as Sol was.

Still, he deduces the purpose of the exercise to be like improvisation; don't say "no", say "yes, and". So he flares his Anima, bringing daylight into the amphitheater but also casting elongated shadows behind the WAL-clones and trees.

"While there is opposition and disagreement within the Living, there is no animosity; such matters were discovered trifling in the face of survival and transcendence. The Incandescent, even in his righteousness, realizes that all Light casts a dark shadow, and shadow is different from the Darkness of the Void. He welcomes the opposition, because for all his power he is but one part of a Pantheon of disparate beings made more than whole in their unity. He is driven to his truth and justice, but knows it is not the only one.

But who else is included in the Godheads?"

He makes a grand sweeping gesture, drawing attention to the shadows cast in the theatre, each now flickering with purple-tinged shadows in the form of watchful eyes, umbral talons and vaguely feminine silhouettes.

"In the shadows cast by the Incandescent and in the reaches and nooks untouched by light reigns the Umbral Queen, whose power rivals the Incandescent's yet is less widely realized. Someone once bound for a life in the spotlight, she was torn down to the Shadow; but instead of being broken she embraced her new domain. She goes where she pleases, hears all poisonous whispers and digs her claws to the throats of those who stray from Shadow to the Void. She has one foot shrouded in Darkness and another illuminated by the Light, finding grounding in the space between. As such, she often acts as intermediary when either the Incandescent or his opposition is blinded by hubris."

The crowd titters at this next stage.  One of the others, one with wide bat-like wings and sharp talons with a face like a gorgeous fallen angel starts to speak...

"A pause!"  WAL cries out, her simulacrums turning grey and stopping.

"A good start, my pupil," She's turned to some Fair Folk approximation of a quirky schoolteacher, though there's a weird amount of lace and she has a chameleon riding her head, "When you make a story, others can glom on.  They can change and twist it to their own ends.  It's different from taking a full, already completed one, like the Norse myths you were using earlier.  Here, I've created a pocket of power in your world.  You can choose to accept it, of course... or you can attempt to reject, to push it down."

She tosses a piece of chalk in one hand.

"There are advantages!  For starters the entity jumping in automatically makes themselves subordinate to you.  If their part is minor, this is definitely good, because they're effectively declaring their allegiance to you and protecting your narrative flanks; if their part is major, then that's a point they can chisel away from you later.  So, pop quiz!  Do you accept or reject Lightning #3458's proposal?"

It's a testament to Daniel's willpower he's managing to stick to the subject among this crowd, although he does regard WAL's new habitus with some confusion. Better not get caught up with the details, though...

"That would be the part about Fifth Day of Darkness, proposed by... her?"

His gaze scans the crowd for the clone who'd made the suggestion.

"I feel I should reject it. Claiming ownership of my main opposition this early seems easy to turn against me so I don't want to give away. She could go on to describe an apartheid in my utopia, to wrest narrative control of the Gods despite my intent to include them under the Living guided by the Incandescent."

"That would be the one yes."

She listens.

"That would be wisest.  But can you tell me when having someone like that is a benefit?"  She asks, "When would it be best to have your intent corrupted?  Is there ever a time you strategically allow it?"

She floats up and towards the crowd,

"This is Shaping combat in a nutshell.  I... honestly don't think that normally I would bother this, but... I have a feeling it's important."