[IC] Act 1.1 : Whisked Away... [In the Senate's Name...]

Re: [iC] Act 1.1 : An invitation to misbehave...


"Oh?" A perfectly stylized eyebrow rose at Advocate of Truth and Justice. "And why would you say that?"
 
Re: [iC] Act 1.1 : An invitation to misbehave...


Castellan Artagnan


Artagnan watched the scene slowly devolve. Even the briefing would not be peaceful, especially with this many Fae in this Coterie.


Then he realized that so far, this was only a "Coterie" because he was here.


Closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath, he decided that it was time to act for the sake of the mission that hadn't even started yet.


Opening his eyes again, not looking at anyone in particular, keeping his voice clear, and even keel, and wearing that immovable, unreadable mask of his.


"I am certain that each one of the esteemed members of this Coterie will have their own ideas as to how to best handle That Which Must Never Be." he says, "However, we are certain to fail if we are unable to coexist peacefully and respect each others' differences of opinion. This mission is more important than myself, and any one of us. We must cooperate, for the sake of our mission, or That Which Must Never Be will instead become That Which Has Come To Pass."


After letting the words sink in for a moment, he turns to the Chancellor.


Coolly, he decides to ask what is on his mind. Politely, he addresses the Chancellor with all of the respect and deference one must show to the rightfully elected Leader of the Senate of the Realm:


"Lord Chancellor. Do we have any conjecture or other information at all regarding this...Rift...Which Must Never Be? Anything at all given previous experience that may aid our task? And how would we go about sealing, or locking this rift?"


Taking a deep breath, he then closes his eyes and also states the question that has been uneasily setting upon his mind.


"I have also noticed that this Coterie is, so far, only one such because of myself. I beg for your pardon, but I must ask this: Why was I selected to be the only Child of the Dragons in this Coterie? I had expected...more, of my brethren in blood to be in attendence."


His features remained placid as he asked this, conveying nothing save the slightest hints of simple, honest curiosity. Inwardly, to say he was feeling a bit out of place amongst all of these Raksha would be an understatement.


Ultimately, it shouldn't matter....Should it? he thought.
 
Re: [iC] Act 1.1 : An invitation to misbehave...





"Ah yes, thank you for reminding me, Castellan... The That Which Must Never Be is located in the untamed woods east of the Summer Mountains," The chancellor gestured to the side where a rather large map of the territories of Harborhead appeared in a flash of light and floated as if drawn upon a pane of glass.


"We have narrowed it down to a region of a hundred or so miles right... here." Another gesture, and a red circle formed over a region of the jungles. Said region was easily five hundred miles from the summer mountains. It was also disturbing near certain territories scratched out by moon anathema, and certain raksha households not affiliated with the Realm.


"As for sealing and warding the That Which Must Not Be, since our seers and astrologers have determined from the stars that it is a gate," Here he smiled. Cold as a serpent and just as vicious. "We had an ancient treasure retrieved from the senate's Vault. All that needs to be done is to... plant it at the entrance of the gate, feed it gossamer and motes... and it'll do the rest by calling upon the shinma Nirupadhika."


That was when he gestured at behind them.


Turning to look back revealed a staff which looked more like lantern mounted upon a pitted iron staff, but which wasn't given the way it glistened with all the colors of the rainbow as if coated with a dark oil.


Close observation of the lantern, its name was clear and obvious; the "Lantern of Ever Lighted Lamp", despite it being an artifact said to be lost to time and space. There is also a moment of confusion as if the staff was surrounded by countless environments; from forests, to snowy plains and mountains, to endless deserts of burning sand, to cities where people walked around the lantern without seeing or perceiving it. An endlessly changing environment that writhed/occurred within the span of a heartbeat.


***


OOC


- For raksha, who may have done this before, there IS a reason why you can't remember using the artifact... despite likely having used it before for a similar mission with regards closing That Which Must Never Be.
 
Re: [iC] Act 1.1 : An invitation to misbehave...


"Violence is like the Wyld. Unpredictable, dangerous, deadly and in the end completely useless without form." he said calmly, "Just as form is predictable, stable and equally deadly, but just like violence in the end completely useless without the Wyld."


He paused for a moment. "Plotting, planing and preparation are only worth something when you have have the ability to enact change. And what more brutal change there is than violence. Rage, impulsiveness and bloodshed are only worth something when you have the ability to enact stability afterward. So both were right and both were wrong."
 
Re: [iC] Act 1.1 : An invitation to misbehave...


A beating heart which slows down inexorably until there is nothing but the slowing pulse and then resplendent silence which is as short as it is intense and wonderful. From this the rising tension unlike anything else ever recorded, spreading across the walls and crawling across the floor and creeping along the ceiling invisible yet physical to such an extent that it would push even the mightiest god to their knees were it only for the whim of the great presence to turn all its attention on one single target.


Impossible and inevitable, numb limbs decaying into putrid black ooze which swirl in toxic fumes and slip quietly into the still form. The stolen breath that could never be retrieved, sealed away as it is in another world where baleful horrors wax poetic on cruel existence, this shaped form assaulted by unimaginable dread.


And yet it all came to a sudden stop before anything could be made of it with but simple words. Magdalene did not stop because she had to, but instead because of the realisation that although she could certainly remind this small fool of his place, there was no way that she would obtain the support of everyone else in this coterie that was pushed on her so callously. Definitely a burden, there could be no other justification.


She would endure it, for now, if only because she could simply not allow herself to waste any more time on petty bickering with the obtuse "You." she stares at the High Lord with cold inhuman disdain "You speak the blasphemy of eternal form as if it were nothing more than a blessing, you forget yourself and sell your own spirit for the triffle of banality. The Wyld's form is shifting sand, to have it any other way is simply unreasonable. I do not allow myself to be blinded by aesthetic concerns and debates best left to those who's youth speak volumes of their ignorance. You would do well to do the same, lest any here present question my dedication once more and force my hands." she lightly hold up a strand of perfect hair from her doll "That I cannot allow." she appears sincere if far less involved in the debate now.


In time she turns her gaze toward the Chancellor "I will give this plan three days. You must understand that any more than that, should the Sultana prove impossible to treat with, would threaten so much more than we can allow. Is that acceptable?" she compromises, if only because time is of the essence and wasteful words bored her tremendously.


She lightly holds one hand forward, strings of gossamer forming from thin air as if they had always been there, yet still imperceptible if clearly felt, they were all around every single creature and object present in the room after all. With but the slightest twitch of one finger, the staff lunges into her waiting hand as she observes it silently, barely listening to the Chancellor's words in response to her own proposition.


This felt oddly familiar, but clearly she'd never used any such object, how befuddling. Still she left it to stand above the ground with no visible support, to float simply because she deigned it to be so.


"Let this go to one who will be able to use it properly." she states bluntly and with no real design upon the object, her dim curiosity now satiated.
 
Re: [iC] Act 1.1 : An invitation to misbehave...


"Youth!" the High Lord bellowed, his voice rumbling so hard that the ground shook with awe as he watched the fop with amused anger. "You dare speak of youth to one who has watched this Creation for an eternity ? You dare speak of youth, where you show all the rashness of a Creation born barely free from the teat of it's mother ?"


His outburst was awe-inspiring to behold, yet at the same time it was merely an amusing part he was playing.


****


OOC: A new fantasy.


The law is terrible to behold in all it's glory.


Causes the ground to tremble with every word he speaks with force.


Socialize + Charisma: 15d10 → [7,4,4,5,10,7,5,10,2,2,5,6,3,3,9] = 7 successes
 
Re: [iC] Act 1.1 : An invitation to misbehave...


Somewhere in the midst of the shouting and rumbling, The Cyan Nassak has gotten up from his seat and has managed to get his hands on the Lantern, which he is casually twirling in one hand like a baton, the glass he had been holding is now hovering where the Ringmaster had left the artifact.


"I don't suppose you could tack on an extra day or two, perhaps? Just that three days of business, whether sneaking or killing, leaves very little time in the way of picking up souveneirs. Well, at least souveneirs that aren't likely to have cracked or shattered or melted or whatnot in the latter case." He pauses for a moment, and reverses the spin of the staff. "I suppose the sneaking would allow it better, but it seems rather uncouth to pick up presents while plotting and such."


Shrugging, he moves onward. "Isn't that the way things are supposed to go, anyway? You go in politely, wander about for a bit, and then for no apparent reason tribal assassins weilding bamboo spears... or whatever native plantlife can be adequitely shaped into weaponry..." The Eshu turned to the Chancelor. "Is that mentioned in the dossier? I would hardly want to be expecting bamboo weaponry when it ends up being something like oak or hickory...


"But in any case we'd just end up rushed anyway, so isn't it better to add more time to be rushed in? Leaving ourselves too little time to be rushed in would just be incautious, and oh dear... Everyone duck!"


That last comment was made as the quickly spinning Lantern slipped out of his hand and cartwheeled through the empty air.


^ ^ ^ ^ ^


Was asked to make a Wits+Occult roll... 4 suxx


http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2582045/
 
Re: [iC] Act 1.1 : An invitation to misbehave...


The chancellor seems to have displayed a keen sense of self survival and, likely, more experience with The Cyan Nassak than one would desire as he ducked at the 'duck' from the Eshu.


Thankfully, the staff didn't fly very far.


It also didn't seem to enjoy being thrown or dropped like was done here. Which likely accounted for the way it slipped into a gap in midair. A gap of utter darkness, and populated by staring eyes, that vanished within moments.


Thankfully, the staff seemed to have returned to where it was originally standing as if it had never been touched.
 
Re: [iC] Act 1.1 : An invitation to misbehave...


Castellan Artagnan


He didn't answer my last question... he thinks, just before Magdalene and High Lord Advocate start going at it again.


He takes another deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment. So much for his words being heeded.


Then the Lantern flies off wildly.


Feeling the staff whoosh right past him, his eye begins to twitch noticeably. When it reappears where it was originally standing, Artagnan rises from his chair sharply, robes flowing around his body, hair flowing in the wind as he makes a beeline for the staff.


When he reaches it, he snatches it with one arm and holds it next to his body.


Raksha. It seems as though they always either take nothing seriously, or they are total overbearing sticks in the mud...


"I will hang onto this." Artagnan says to The Cyan Nassak and Magdalene with a cold glare. This particular piece of equipment was too important to be left in the hands of those who would treat it as just another trinket.


Turning to the bickering Raksha, he states the following in a voice not unlike his usual tone, but with a hint of ice in it...:


"I am disappointed in you. The Honorable and Mighty High Lord Advocate of Truth and Justice behaving like a common thug who has been slighted. The Elegant and Noble Lady Magdalene Farandole, throwing a tantrum not unlike that of a schoolchild who has been refused a cookie. The Honorable Senator Silvanus Zeitgeist's tactless and polarizing argument against the warpath. The Fortunate Cyan Nassak more concerned with shopping for souvenirs than ensuring That Which Must Never Be remains That Which Has Not Come To Pass. The Beautiful and Talented Xytrisae has a point. We must act, and quickly so, but we must conversely ensure that we are not simply rushing in with not plan nor strategy."


"Our deliberations must be productive. We do not have any further time to waste on this pointless infighting. We are a Coterie of the Realm. We are strong. We represent the best that the Realm has to offer. We must not, can not, and therefore -will not- fail."


----------------------------------------------------------------------------


Another Shaping Effect:


All discourse in my presence shall be civil, orderly, and respectful. No voices shall be raised in anger, nor shall any discourse that is meant only to harm another's ego come to pass.


Rolling 2 Charisma+2 Socialize +3 Stunt die. Expending 1 Willpower to channel 5 Temperance.


http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2582433/


9 Successes.
 
Re: [iC] Act 1.1 : An invitation to misbehave...


Silvanus watches the next events play out and frowns some for all the things going on. He admittedly was annoyed with Magdalene but that wasn't going to change as she was unlikely to change. He looked a little annoyed at the High Lord Advocate but then his eyes widened in panic at the staff going airborne. He breathes a sigh of relief as the staff is back where is should be. He then watched the dragon-blooded go to it and take it.


He listened quietly to what had to be said and liking this Castellan Artagnan all the more. He generally liked the denizens of Creation more than his own kind a great deal of the time anyways, but his initiative was appreciated. This would hopefully draw things to a more productive conclusion.


"Well spoken, I must admit I am not helping things. It would seem that the only one here with a clear view of things is this noble dragon-blooded. We have a task, we must work towards it," Silvanus voiced his support of Artagnan's point. He ever preferred to let someone else take the lead, but if they were worth giving support to he would give it. This was such a case in his opinion. The Realm was threatened and they had to succeed.
 
Re: [iC] Act 1.1 : An invitation to misbehave...


"Oh, but you are quite mistaken, Sir Castellan," The Cyan Nassak corrects as he retrieves his glass from the air. "I am quite interested in the matter of the 'That Which Must Never Be.' Indeed, I am certainly of a mind on that very subject, and it coincides with my interests." He strides over to the Dragon-blooded and taps on the Lantern with the his drink, producing a chiming noise.


"All I was saying is that, while our main mission is something of a time sensitive matter, we need to be... fluid..." He flings the remaining liquor into the air, where it glistens like a fire snake and streams back into the container. "We need to assess the 'That Which Must Never Be' in a timely fashion, and as chances might result a permanent one." He nods towards the Ringmaster. "Concerning what this may be, a certain... heavy hand would likely be needed, and all the fun that entails.


"That said, however... It should be noted that if we approach with too... hrm... too much of an visible inclination to use said heavy hand would perchance speed up any who would wish to curtail our investigation, if not their own usage of the thing." At this he raised his glass to Silvanus and the High Lord. "A suitable midpoint between each is what I asked."


He drained the remains of his drink. "Though I do need something for the foyer in my personal Freehold," he says as he smiles and walks away back to his seat.


^ ^ ^ ^ ^


And was requested to make another Wits+Occult... no idea what these are for, but I somehow managed 8 suxx on 8 dice.


http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2582475/
 
Re: [iC] Act 1.1 : An invitation to misbehave...


Meanwhile in another dime.... *coughs* locale, a certain raksha noble is enjoying herself.


Sipping at vaguely alcoholic and rather colorful drinks, and lying upon a towel on a beach where the sand was as find as powder and just as white, Ciara Nami certainly was living the life of a carefree noble as she gestured for one of the number of pretty cabana boys to oil her up under the noonday sun.
 
Re: [iC] Act 1.1 : An invitation to misbehave...


The chiming tone reverberates, and everything around Magdalene Farandole for a timeless moment froze. Becoming as still as that of a raksha undergoing calcification. A metaphor that is not inaccurate as the world around her became monochromatic, as all of reality transformed into salt before blowing away...


Leaving the Ringmaster of the Nightmare Circus standing upon an empty field, an infinity of white upon white, with no up nor down, no left nor right. It simply was.


There is naturally a pickling sensation as of something just behind her. Looming over her, with a distinct lack of shadows, there could be anything and yet.. maybe nothing, for there was no hint of what could be behind her. No evidence that she could sense without looking behind.


***


That ringing tone...
 
In the endless scape of white upon white upon mind-shearing white, there is an absence of sound. In that absence, there is also the sensation of something missing. As of a sound, a sensation that one has gotten used to, that the lack of which sounded louder than a scream in the darkness of night.
 
Re: [iC] Act 1.1 : An invitation to misbehave...


Rigidity until every stiff join grew so numb as to be useless, as blinding light exploded outward and washed away everything. Gone and no more, nothing more than the fickle whim of a feeble mind. Slight agony of timeless imprisonment and rising trashing against unbreakable bondage.


How could this be? Did the Wyld itself die before her eyes, did the world itself shatter as so much stained glass without her understanding? Did she survive this apocalypse as something beyond even such a catastrophe? No, more. There was more to this. Pointless arrogance would yield her no answers!


She stretched her hand forward, feeling returning to her body at last though dim and awkward, as if she were in a place with a paradigm of laws that was actively hostile to the assumption she wore to tolerate Creation's overwhelming banality. Stretching her presence as far as it would go, countless dolls spawning in her wake and her towering shadow eating away at infinity itself. Yet still this place went further and farther, beyond her reach. She could not shape it to her whim, as restrictive as this cursed place of stability that had broken apart into dust and salt yet at the same time entirely and clearly infinite. Contradictory to the point of frustration.


The laws of her nature claim and demand that there be something behind her, yet there is no presence and no time and no space and only more of the same. Why should she turn? That would restrain her further in the twisted new order that represents this wicked place. Yet still all the thousands of dolls are consumed back by her shadow and it returns to her without struggle. She brings a hand to her neck lightly, stroking it and pondering her situation even as the silence deafens and impatience permeates this sterile place like a glass of acid spilling over pristine ivory cage.


The scion of the Darkness Beyond Darkness could hardly ignore such vivid yet unheard screams, swiftly turning around to face her destiny with all the merit of her bravery and imperious nature, she slightly grit her teeth.


Breathless for an instant, were it any different it would be called nothing less than fear of the unknown.


... perhaps?


In fact, it could really be...


Was this the Ascension she'd been craving all along? Was this it...?


Could this be Varanasi at last?
 



How.... how was it possible for one to miss what loomed behind and now before Magdalene Farandole?


Certainly, all around her stretched an infinity of white, endless banal white. A white that was the absolute absence of colors and notions. But now before her stood a gate.


That was the only thing it could be described as. Massive and ponderous with a gravity that spoke of absolutes and a certainty that what lay beyond or what lay in it was a Truth. A concept such as that that could be embodied by a shinma.


Ah, but which one?
 
"S-Shinma...?" Magdalene whispered incredulously when faced with the immense gate looming over her. It spoke not, yet that which it embodied spoke to her fundamental nature. Imperishable and eternal this order, it could not be defied or ignored. Taller and greater with every passing second, the more she looked into it the more stood revealed to the breaking point of insanity itself.


Pain as her mind itself shuddered, an headache and epiphany of absence. No sound or color, yet every potential such an overwhelming sea hidding in-between. Clashing like tidal waves against her form, she felt small and insignificant. How could this be?


Instinctively she understood what now she gazed upon, for she is after all Raksha.


But could she put words on it?


Not terrified, rather nauseated by being forcefully thrown in her limited and tightly controlled form before such a force of nature. She is a naked mortal in a hailstorm!


Yet she as thunder cannot be tamed and so she old her hand forward defiantly, brushing her hand against the gate before her even as she express herself, knowing it is pointless but indulging the human pretense of awe and discovery "What is... this?"
 
You do not belong here.


Words. Concepts. filtered into her essence, bypassing such things as ears, minds, graces. They simply were in much the same manner that which stood before the little doll mistress.


This was less a communication, and more truths that could not be denied and thus Magdalene knew them.
 
The overwhelming pressure of this violent epiphany brought her to her knees even as she glared at the door, screaming despite herself as she held her chest tight "W-What!? How can you say such? Am I not here? Then there is no doubt that I belong!" she opposes the edict of the shinma not out of actual conviction but merely because it is conflict that she is made to thrive from. In this place, there can be no other conflict.


Some would almost call this desperation.
 
The silence surrounding the ringmaster of the nightmare circus consumed her words even as they left her mouth. Words, verbalized attempts at justifications. At conflicts. Faded and consumed. Revealed for their lack of substance.


It really shouldn't surprise her where with a crack, as if in response to her statements, the gate opened inwards, away from her. To reveal darkness, sweet familiar darkness. Another absolute. Much like that which surrounded her. But separated from the White.


Not Here. There. Unhere.
 
Clearly what laid beyond the door had absolutely nothing in common with what she stood upon. Fundamental difference in guiding principles, where she had no substance here in this stange place she would be so real as to explode in a shower of salt and gossamer.


Yet despite it all, she craved the stimulation of this hungry dark, so that she would again fully feel the range of her touch and glory surrounding her without restraint. She could barely endure this place any longer, especially with the given alternative!


Stepping slightly closer to the gate, she cannot help but wonder what would happen were she to traverse the threshold.
 
Drawing closer to the darkness, it is... apparant that the darkness isn't all shadows. There are things moving within it. Movement that conveyed distance. Eyes that moved and glared with insanity.


That was what the darkness held.


***


ooc please roll int + lore or occult
 
Within every darkness there is the potential for secret and discovery. In the unknown there is also knowledge and in knowledge there is also ignorance. In understanding and wielding those narrative principles, there is wisdom beyond mortal keen, from such introspection on the nature of the Wyld do the Raksha earn wisdom to make even the brightest mortal mind pale by comparison.


She is yet to wield such an understanding fully, but her strong distinction of self and understanding of inner causality does afford her some measure of protection from the madness and distraction from so many swirling forms hidden deep beneath the lurking shadows. They are fleeting and implausible, as non-existent as the surrounding white void around her.


This is less real than she is.


So much less real.


Yes, it is not as real as she is!


As such she will look upon it and see everything.


She peers deeply witin the abyss, knowing that it may look back inside her without any hesitation, for if anything...


The abyss should fear her.
 
The concepts of distance. Movement. Journeys. And boundaries. Such simple concepts. And yet... that's what the shadows conveyed.


Nirupadhika. That name rose at the back of the raksha's mind. It felt right, certainly, given that the tone that had resounded earlier came from said artifact that called upon that shinma.
 
From her limited understanding, she could at least gather what probably happened to her. So this was the space between everything then? It felt wrong in many ways yet still oddly familiar. Could it be that the artifact went haywire and had sent her there? If so, what would become of her.


Would she have to travel into the unknown and just hope for the best? She stared intently at the looming gate, almost as if to insist it tells her of its intentions.


Yet how could it have any? Were it really one of the shinma...


Those fool gods could do nothing for her. At least, not willingly. She pressed one hand against the darkness, almost as if it were palpable.


It didn't appear that she had any other option left.
 
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