Light Up (Dresden Files)
- Thread starter Bladestar123
- Start date
ChildishChimera
A umbran summon
- Location
- New York
[x] Knowledge of magic and folklore, superstitions and rituals to keep oneself safe from terrors unknown
[X] Knowledge of magic and folklore, superstitions and rituals to keep oneself safe from terrors unknown
- Location
- Postcard from the Root
[X] Knowledge of strange lights in the night, of creatures of terrible beauty and wisdom that could offer anything at a price
daedalus725
Kell of Kells, godking of Planet X
- Location
- Daedalus crater, The moon
[X] Knowledge of bloody creatures, skulking in the darkness and always waiting for a chance to pull you in
Though not unlike being a deaf composer, in that you have no idea if it worked until you use it and see the result on the audience
Ridiculously Average Guy
I'm you, but stronger
- Location
-
[X] Knowledge of magic and folklore, superstitions and rituals to keep oneself safe from terrors unknown
For the classic "I'm surrounded by vampires protected only by a circle I drew, and the words of a sketchy spell" scene.
For the classic "I'm surrounded by vampires protected only by a circle I drew, and the words of a sketchy spell" scene.
Bladestar123
Happy
- Location
- Man, wherever
Votes locked in 12-24 hours
Bladestar123
Happy
- Location
- Man, wherever
Votes Locked
First Offense (I)
Bladestar123
Happy
- Location
- Man, wherever
[X] Knowledge of magic and folklore, superstitions and rituals to keep oneself safe from terrors unknown
You reach back and massage your shoulder, tense from sitting so stiffly. You refuse to look back at the room you had just been escorted from, the conversation having risen several levels over your paygrade.
Though that could be changing. Any moment. The fast track of life does that to you, gives you hopes you're not sure you can afford.
You snort, and pace down the hall, the rich wood paneling of bureaucracy giving way to a more soothing shade, sunlight beginning to stream through windows left open for people to catch a breath. More and more people begin to appear, moving down the corridor, and you finally relax once you feel suitably buried away.
SIU, the new department you were to be transferred to, wouldn't have this. A new department, specially requested by the mayor and his constituents? You'd be moved to the sterile new departments in the east bloc, recently renovated, recently fumigated, recently evacuated.
Pristine.
The bustle around you almost seems to fade away, the image of beige walls and ergonomic furniture closing in dominates your imagination, and the breeze seems almost as cold as the meeting room you left.
The irony that you are being rewarded for your blatant insubordination is not lost on you, nor is the fact that you are likely to be further promoted for this. You're on the fast track now, in the public eye, with the Board of Commissioners smiling gently down at you from above. A few cases below your belt, and you become the department's poster boy, the shining validation of the Mayor's methods and his stellar cooperation with the Police Force. Maybe even land a cushy desk job in the West Bureau.
The pressure is unreal. The fact that this move is political is not lost on anyone willing to notice, but the value is unquestionable. Politics doesn't necessitate a lack of concern; this was a move that allowed everyone to win.
Everyone but you.
The fact of the matter, was that the Ghost Killings were nonexistent, and everyone knew it. It was a publicity stunt by a tabloid or two, a red flag to try and connect various killings spread out across the South Bureau, a "phantom trail" pointing right at the Valley. It was all nonsense. The break-in's were an expert at lockpicking, the missing valuables were an opportunistic robber, the deaths were a jilted lover or mad psychopath, and the missing flesh those pesky rodents everyone has been demanding the Bureau of Sanitation clean up. All that was needed was a department that could clean it up, and that would be that. And they had it now, the Mayor announcing to the public that by popular demand, a department had been set up to handle the "supernatural" cases on demand, and give everyone peace of mind. People on call to come clean up the mess, and assure them that no, there was no ghost, it was a leak in the ceiling, it was a rat under the boards, it was a tree in the night. Case after case, it would handle it all, and you'd all see how effective your mayor and police force were now, wouldn't you? Vote for your Mayor to be re-elected and don't you forget it. And those tabloids, rumormongers one and all. There were a thousand and one other murders a day; didn't those street rags have something better to do than try and stir public unrest? Hadn't someone up in Northridge spotted Elvis again?
Everyone but you. You knew better.
The dark was terrifying, but you held confidence in your mind, and your caution. You knew enough to handle the spooks in the world, the shades that haunted your grandmother no match for a little preparation. Silver grit, a 15-inch spike of iron, 2 sharpened rowan crosses and a stick of chalk. It would buy you time, time to learn, time to figure out just what the hell you're up against.
The murderer of the Ghost Killings could not be brought to justice. It killed you a little, inside.
The alley was dark, and the dark was terrifying. You cautiously turned the corner, brass shoulders first and in plain sight, taser close at hand. Your service piece is tight to your hip, and you pray to god a time never comes to explain why one of the rounds you were distributed is no longer on your person.
You could only afford to silver-plate one. Highly illegal, and the carved scriptures on the side certainly would do nothing to sell your case. But you needed at least one, just in case.
The round was chambered.
You advanced down the alley.
You continue down the sunny hallway, a sickly smile on your face, greeting people and shaking hands. Honest congratulations are thrown your way, the first recruit into SIU, transferred for outstanding bravery is the message from on high. The memo just came by, and my my, lucky you, don't you forget me, from your palace high up in the sky.
SIU is an unprecedented opportunity. No one wants to work Street, not here. Everyone has a family to go back to, and that desk is a mighty fine distance from anything that prevents you from clocking out at 7:30 on the dot. And you, you lucky lucky man, you who won that lottery, you are the first to benefit. Go handle the spooky stories, go soothe a few nerves, and it's all smooth sailing. No one would begrudge a fellow that victory. That's the story that spread, as soon as it was confirmed that you had more use to the department as a serving member. The memo certainly had gotten around, my my.
Must be a slow day, god bless. Central seemed so much more peaceful than West. Almost a shame to leave, but you needed to pack your things.
The figure that awaited you at the end of the dark alley was shrouded in that terrifying darkness, and he knew it. He stood calmly, and you know he had been aware of your presence for far too long.
But you needed to know. The legends your Grandmother had shared had so very little basis in reality, the guttering embers of her life barely enough to conjure shadows of terrifying beasts in her mind, horrible beasties in the dark she would rave about in her rocking chair. The floor would creak and she would rock, faster and faster, distress fuelling her impassioned calls for endless watchfulness.
But what were they, legends passed down through the ages, of vampires and dhampires, of circles and rituals. Or were they more? You believed they were. You wanted to believe they were.
And here you were. Proof staring you down like headlights. Validation tasted of bile and copper.
Preparation had failed.
No, that was wrong, you were wrong.
You had failed your preparations.
You didn't know enough, the facts presented beyond the scope of your understanding. What you saw there was beyond what you had imagined, and you weren't prepared for it. You needed to know more.
SIU was a red herring, you had no faith in it. But it had value beyond that. You needed information, and this was opportunity like you could only pray for. After all, there were no tolls on the Fast Track, and that meant a whole world of opportunity opened up. Perhaps it's time you finally took advantage of that.
[ ] Go get your things from your old workplace.
[ ] Wait for your boss and speak to him of your responsibilities.
[ ] Hit the streets, you need to find information.
[ ] Hit the internet, you need to find information.
[ ] Gossip with the people around you, surely they have rumors and advice?
You reach back and massage your shoulder, tense from sitting so stiffly. You refuse to look back at the room you had just been escorted from, the conversation having risen several levels over your paygrade.
Though that could be changing. Any moment. The fast track of life does that to you, gives you hopes you're not sure you can afford.
You snort, and pace down the hall, the rich wood paneling of bureaucracy giving way to a more soothing shade, sunlight beginning to stream through windows left open for people to catch a breath. More and more people begin to appear, moving down the corridor, and you finally relax once you feel suitably buried away.
SIU, the new department you were to be transferred to, wouldn't have this. A new department, specially requested by the mayor and his constituents? You'd be moved to the sterile new departments in the east bloc, recently renovated, recently fumigated, recently evacuated.
Pristine.
The bustle around you almost seems to fade away, the image of beige walls and ergonomic furniture closing in dominates your imagination, and the breeze seems almost as cold as the meeting room you left.
The irony that you are being rewarded for your blatant insubordination is not lost on you, nor is the fact that you are likely to be further promoted for this. You're on the fast track now, in the public eye, with the Board of Commissioners smiling gently down at you from above. A few cases below your belt, and you become the department's poster boy, the shining validation of the Mayor's methods and his stellar cooperation with the Police Force. Maybe even land a cushy desk job in the West Bureau.
The pressure is unreal. The fact that this move is political is not lost on anyone willing to notice, but the value is unquestionable. Politics doesn't necessitate a lack of concern; this was a move that allowed everyone to win.
Everyone but you.
The fact of the matter, was that the Ghost Killings were nonexistent, and everyone knew it. It was a publicity stunt by a tabloid or two, a red flag to try and connect various killings spread out across the South Bureau, a "phantom trail" pointing right at the Valley. It was all nonsense. The break-in's were an expert at lockpicking, the missing valuables were an opportunistic robber, the deaths were a jilted lover or mad psychopath, and the missing flesh those pesky rodents everyone has been demanding the Bureau of Sanitation clean up. All that was needed was a department that could clean it up, and that would be that. And they had it now, the Mayor announcing to the public that by popular demand, a department had been set up to handle the "supernatural" cases on demand, and give everyone peace of mind. People on call to come clean up the mess, and assure them that no, there was no ghost, it was a leak in the ceiling, it was a rat under the boards, it was a tree in the night. Case after case, it would handle it all, and you'd all see how effective your mayor and police force were now, wouldn't you? Vote for your Mayor to be re-elected and don't you forget it. And those tabloids, rumormongers one and all. There were a thousand and one other murders a day; didn't those street rags have something better to do than try and stir public unrest? Hadn't someone up in Northridge spotted Elvis again?
Everyone but you. You knew better.
The dark was terrifying, but you held confidence in your mind, and your caution. You knew enough to handle the spooks in the world, the shades that haunted your grandmother no match for a little preparation. Silver grit, a 15-inch spike of iron, 2 sharpened rowan crosses and a stick of chalk. It would buy you time, time to learn, time to figure out just what the hell you're up against.
The murderer of the Ghost Killings could not be brought to justice. It killed you a little, inside.
The alley was dark, and the dark was terrifying. You cautiously turned the corner, brass shoulders first and in plain sight, taser close at hand. Your service piece is tight to your hip, and you pray to god a time never comes to explain why one of the rounds you were distributed is no longer on your person.
You could only afford to silver-plate one. Highly illegal, and the carved scriptures on the side certainly would do nothing to sell your case. But you needed at least one, just in case.
The round was chambered.
You advanced down the alley.
You continue down the sunny hallway, a sickly smile on your face, greeting people and shaking hands. Honest congratulations are thrown your way, the first recruit into SIU, transferred for outstanding bravery is the message from on high. The memo just came by, and my my, lucky you, don't you forget me, from your palace high up in the sky.
SIU is an unprecedented opportunity. No one wants to work Street, not here. Everyone has a family to go back to, and that desk is a mighty fine distance from anything that prevents you from clocking out at 7:30 on the dot. And you, you lucky lucky man, you who won that lottery, you are the first to benefit. Go handle the spooky stories, go soothe a few nerves, and it's all smooth sailing. No one would begrudge a fellow that victory. That's the story that spread, as soon as it was confirmed that you had more use to the department as a serving member. The memo certainly had gotten around, my my.
Must be a slow day, god bless. Central seemed so much more peaceful than West. Almost a shame to leave, but you needed to pack your things.
The figure that awaited you at the end of the dark alley was shrouded in that terrifying darkness, and he knew it. He stood calmly, and you know he had been aware of your presence for far too long.
But you needed to know. The legends your Grandmother had shared had so very little basis in reality, the guttering embers of her life barely enough to conjure shadows of terrifying beasts in her mind, horrible beasties in the dark she would rave about in her rocking chair. The floor would creak and she would rock, faster and faster, distress fuelling her impassioned calls for endless watchfulness.
But what were they, legends passed down through the ages, of vampires and dhampires, of circles and rituals. Or were they more? You believed they were. You wanted to believe they were.
And here you were. Proof staring you down like headlights. Validation tasted of bile and copper.
Preparation had failed.
No, that was wrong, you were wrong.
You had failed your preparations.
You didn't know enough, the facts presented beyond the scope of your understanding. What you saw there was beyond what you had imagined, and you weren't prepared for it. You needed to know more.
SIU was a red herring, you had no faith in it. But it had value beyond that. You needed information, and this was opportunity like you could only pray for. After all, there were no tolls on the Fast Track, and that meant a whole world of opportunity opened up. Perhaps it's time you finally took advantage of that.
[ ] Go get your things from your old workplace.
[ ] Wait for your boss and speak to him of your responsibilities.
[ ] Hit the streets, you need to find information.
[ ] Hit the internet, you need to find information.
[ ] Gossip with the people around you, surely they have rumors and advice?
Last edited:
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Go get your things from your old workplace.
Might as well save our favorite coffee mug.
Might as well save our favorite coffee mug.
- Location
- Canada
[X] Wait for your boss and speak to him of your responsibilities.
NúmenoreanNazgûl
Witch-King
- Location
- Minas Morgul
[X] Wait for your boss and speak to him of your responsibilities.
A Wise Hermit
Well, Sometimes.
Quest Commander Downy ready for operations.
[X] Go get your things from your old workplace.
Might have a few memories that we might want to keep.
[X] Go get your things from your old workplace.
Might have a few memories that we might want to keep.
Ridiculously Average Guy
I'm you, but stronger
- Location
-
[X] Go get your things from your old workplace.
Bladestar123
Happy
- Location
- Man, wherever
Votes locked in 12-24 hours