Green Flame Rising (Exalted vs Dresden Files)

Once we get back to the surface we could contact Black Rider and tell him to inform Matthews KITT-style, if the car is anywhere close to the ritual site.
Extra funny points if Katrina is there for it too.

Double +funny points if Balck Rider droves through a wall to get to where they are keeping Matthew's.
 
Extra funny points if Katrina is there for it too.

Double +funny points if Balck Rider droves through a wall to get to where they are keeping Matthew's.
I wonder if we get XP for the kill if Black Rider Kool-Aid Man's through a wall to reach Matthews and accidentally ganks Katrina?
 
Fires Mortal and Divine
COMMENTARY
-That bigger ghoul shielding the smaller one was a nice touch.
This encounter is certainly going to get stories going in the ghoul grapevine.

-Loling at the fight with the spectre, and all the fumbling.
It was always likely to be suboptimal to attempt to possess someone against their will in the presence of a Sword whose literal job is to evict more powerful Fallen from actual willing

Of course, Kattrin didnt exactly expect a Knight.

-Countermagic joins the long list of things we need. Along with magical sight.

-New scene, multiple secrets uncovered.
Cindy shows magic, and Gard shows off runes in her axe, and how she defuses a hostile ward.
+2 Essence.

-We had 8/12 Essence after the tattoo shop fight.

We spent 1 Essence on Tool Constructs for first aid. Another 1 Essence for Crown of Eyes on Lydia's tracks, and 1 Essence on Intimidating the ghouls. We got 2 Essence back for viewing some of Lydia's secrets, and now we should get 2 Essence for either finding out Cindy is a wizard, or seeing Gard do spell EOD with custom tools.

Current total: 8 + (-1-1-1) +(2+2) = 8+ -3 + 4 = 9/12 Essence

[J] Try to calm her
-[J] Your a Wizard Cindy!
Yeah, we got to use this. And no, Im not even meming here.
She's in the age bracket for the Harry Potter movies, which started in 2001, and the Goblet of Fire movie came out in 2005.
So stunting with modern pop culture might help. And unlike Michael, we've actually met her grandfather, which helps.

Stunt and vote incoming.
 
What else is down here?
No idea.

Other than mundane homeless, feral animals and the normal detritus of modern life? Canon has had everything from mad sorcerers and their homicidal golems to cannibal-rapist descendants of Grendel to Denarians. Goblins, earth spirits, vampires, various forms of fae, supernatural flora.....Its a Pandora's box of potential peril.

Not everything is dangerous, but you need to be careful.
 
"Who are you? What was that thing? What did I do!" The young voice grows higher and higher with each until she sounds at the edge of panic.
Answers inbound.

VOTE
[X] Try to calm her
[X] STUNT: Dismissing your sword, you go down on one knee as she shrinks back against the wall in the light of your anima, feeling unaccountably old. Christ, she's barely older than Leech. "Hi, Cindy. I'm Molly. I visited your granpa yesterday with Warden Dresden. A very bad lady had you kidnapped and hidden away to blackmail your grandfather, and he asked for help to find you and get you out of here. That" you cock a thumb over your shoulder "is my dad, and the lady's a friend who agreed to help. That...thing was a bad spirit, sorta like a dementor. And you fought it off, long enough for us to chase it away." And because you cant help yourself, you continue. "Yer a wizard, Cindy."


REASON
Molly can try; if she doesnt then her father can give it a go.

She has natural Big Sister energy, and experience dealing with siblings this age.
The fact that she's showing blatantly supernatural highlights is counterbalanced by the fact that Cindy is magically sensitive enough to notice that it was Molly's party that drove her attacker away.

Roll Charisma 3 + Empathy 3. 6 dice.
Hit Cindy's grandfather Intimacy to lower DCs; she's still a tween, so its safe to assume one of her intimacies is going to be for her primary caregiver/family. And also mentioning that we can get her out of here.

Harry Potter reference because we can. For the funny.
And also because it serves as a rapport-building reference for a child her age in 2006, who has probably read the books, seen Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone on DVD, and almost certainly saw Goblet of Fire in theaters in 2005.

PS
Going to note that Cindy has Willpower 4.
And rolled 5 successes on a DC6 Willpower roll to resist possession.
This is a tough kid for her age.
 
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[X] Try to calm her
[X] STUNT: Dismissing your sword, you go down on one knee as she shrinks back against the wall in the light of your anima, feeling unaccountably old. Christ, she's barely older than Leech. "Hi, Cindy. I'm Molly. I visited your granpa yesterday with Warden Dresden. A very bad lady had you kidnapped and hidden away to blackmail your grandfather, and he asked for help to find you and get you out of here. That" you cock a thumb over your shoulder "is my dad, and the lady's a friend who agreed to help. That...thing was a bad spirit, sorta like a dementor. And you fought it off, long enough for us to chase it away." And because you cant help yourself, you continue. "Yer a wizard, Cindy."
 
I think Michael has propably a calmer approach to this.
We might have some big-sister experience, he has a lot more dad-experience.

Also he is not on nuclear hellfire, but has a sword that feels like love in his hands.
Better starting position.
 
Hi, Cindy. I'm Molly. I visited your granpa yesterday with Warden Dresden. A very bad lady had you kidnapped and hidden away to blackmail your grandfather, and he asked for help to find you and get you out of here.
I think the wording here might be a bit too...childish?

Cindy is 12 or 13, right? "A very bad lady" sounds like something you would say to a 6 year-old, not a tween. Maybe use something like "A psycho bitch" or, sticking with the Harry Potter references, "A Voldemort wannabe" instead?
 
COMMENTARY
-That bigger ghoul shielding the smaller one was a nice touch.
This encounter is certainly going to get stories going in the ghoul grapevine.

-Loling at the fight with the spectre, and all the fumbling.
It was always likely to be suboptimal to attempt to possess someone against their will in the presence of a Sword whose literal job is to evict more powerful Fallen from actual willing

Of course, Kattrin didn't exactly expect a Knight.

While the sword will protect its bearer from magic like that and in certain edge cases like trying to take on the Red King it will also aid their allies, it cannot do things like aid children push out possessing spirits. Protecting the innocent from evil is the task of the knight not of the sword alone, it is the choice of the bearer given freely that grants the sword the ability to intervene like that, so in this instance Michael charging into battle. I thought I would make this clear now since you will continue to fight alongside Michael and he does understand this particular limitation IC, he is not a taxi service to get the sword in the presence of evil, he is its bearer with all the risks that comes with.
 
I have to say, I am kinda interested whose design it is (Watsonian perspective) that Molly is encountering Cindy and Lydia in this situation. Because both of them are her. Moreover, both of them are her canon possibilities seen in this image:
1) Cindy is a child of a repentant dark magic user, kidnapped by divine-like powers and held against her will as her magic awakens. She is Molly from Arctis Tor, her past self from the perspective of innocence and mortality.
2) Lydia is a family member of someone with a divine mandate, kept protected by not being involved, who involved herself, all in the process of awakening her reality-bending powers. She is Molly's potential self, I would say, what Molly could have been, seen from the perspective of destiny and choice.

Or... Wait, is this about Molly at all? Is Lydia the one being presented with potential outcomes of different paths she can take? Molly is her non-human potential - the epitome of divine might she might aspire to, the good she might do if she takes up her mantle. Cindy is her human self - more vulnerable, yes, but not helpless, a worthy choice to make even in a current situation, when her father is in danger, saved as she might be saved, if she has Faith.

With Molly exalting, she no longer holds potential to become Winter Lady (something that might or might not have been part of potential plans of Uriel and other higher powers at this point already; if not Destined in some way). There has to be a replacement ready for destiny and fate. And Lydia makes sense. Oh, she makes a ton of sense, really. Her becoming a girlfriend of our brother makes a lot of sense. Guys, are we sure there are no sidereals running around? This reads like a sidereal plot to me.

EDIT:
I think the wording here might be a bit too...childish?

Cindy is 12 or 13, right? "A very bad lady" sounds like something you would say to a 6 year-old, not a tween. Maybe use something like "A psycho bitch" or, sticking with the Harry Potter references, "A Voldemort wannabe" instead?
Actually, I'm not sure. But you make a good point. @DragonParadox , do we know how old Cindy is? If not, how old does she look?
 
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I have to say, I am kinda interested whose design it is (Watsonian perspective) that Molly is encountering Cindy and Lydia in this situation. Because both of them are her. Moreover, both of them are her canon possibilities seen in this image:
1) Cindy is a child of a repentant dark magic user, kidnapped by divine-like powers and held against her will as her magic awakens. She is Molly from Arctis Tor, her past self from the perspective of innocence and mortality.
2) Lydia is a family member of someone with a divine mandate, kept protected by not being involved, who involved herself, all in the process of awakening her reality-bending powers. She is Molly's potential self, I would say, what Molly could have been, seen from the perspective of destiny and choice.

Or... Wait, is this about Molly at all? Is Lydia the one being presented with potential outcomes of different paths she can take? Molly is her non-human potential - the epitome of divine might she might aspire to, the good she might do if she takes up her mantle. Cindy is her human self - more vulnerable, yes, but not helpless, a worthy choice to make even in a current situation, when her father is in danger, saved as she might be saved, if she has Faith.

With Molly exalting, she no longer holds potential to become Winter Lady (something that might or might not have been part of potential plans of Uriel and other higher powers at this point already; if not Destined in some way). There has to be a replacement ready for destiny and fate. And Lydia makes sense. Oh, she makes a ton of sense, really. Her becoming a girlfriend of our brother makes a lot of sense. Guys, are we sure there are no sidereals running around? This reads like a sidereal plot to me.

EDIT:

Actually, I'm not sure. But you make a good point. @DragonParadox , do we know how old Cindy is? If not, how old does she look?
I mean maeves replacement still exists at this point she has a sister after all.
 
I mean maeves replacement still exists at this point she has a sister after all.
True. But plots within plots within plots. Molly being a backup could have been set up already. Even if it isn't that, one can't deny that Molly, Lydia and Cindy have a lot of similarities in their current situation and background. This might be a coincidence, but in the reality of angels, demons and potential time travel, all spiced with exalted BS, I don't trust coincidences.
 
Actually, I'm not sure. But you make a good point. @DragonParadox , do we know how old Cindy is? If not, how old does she look?
roughly twelve.
A few minutes later the image of a dark haired girl looking maybe four years older than she had in the pictures at the Matthews place, around twelve pops up on screen, just her goofing around with friends. 'Driver's Ed' one picture is captioned and it's her and a friend in bumper cars at a fair.
 
[X] Try to calm her
-[X] STUNT: Dismissing your sword, you go down on one knee as she shrinks back against the wall in the light of your anima, feeling unaccountably old. "Hi, Cindy. I'm Molly. I visited your grandpa yesterday with Warden Dresden. An evil witch had you kidnapped and hidden away to blackmail your grandfather, and we are getting you out of here. That" you cock a thumb over your shoulder "is my dad, and the lady's a friend who agreed to help. That...thing was a bad spirit, sorta like a dementor. And you fought it off, long enough for us to chase it away." And because you cant help yourself, you continue. "Yer a wizard, Cindy."
 
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While the sword will protect its bearer from magic like that and in certain edge cases like trying to take on the Red King it will also aid their allies, it cannot do things like aid children push out possessing spirits. Protecting the innocent from evil is the task of the knight not of the sword alone, it is the choice of the bearer given freely that grants the sword the ability to intervene like that, so in this instance Michael charging into battle. I thought I would make this clear now since you will continue to fight alongside Michael and he does understand this particular limitation IC, he is not a taxi service to get the sword in the presence of evil, he is its bearer with all the risks that comes with.
It doesnt have to, generally.
The Knight can do that on their own, and Michael in particular has wielded what Dresden would call faith magic, and Michael would simply call prayer. Citations:

Grave Peril
"We're doing all we can," Michael assured me. "If God wills it, we'll be there in time. Are you sure of your ..." his mouth twisted with distaste, "source?"
"Bob is annoying, but rarely wrong," I answered, jamming on the brakes and dodging around a garbage truck. "If he said the ghost would be there, it will be there."
"Lord be with us," Michael said, and crossed himself. I felt a stirring of something powerful, placid energy around him - the power of faith. "Harry, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

Grave Peril Chapter 1, Page 2


"Then we best hurry." He cast the white cloak back from his right arm, and put his hand on the hilt of the great broadsword. Then he bowed his head, crossed himself, and murmured, "Merciful Father, guide us and protect us as we go to do battle with the darkness." Once more, there was that thrum of energy around him, like the vibrations of music heard through a thick wall.

Grave Peril Chapter 1, Page 5
Small Favor:
Michael folded his arms, studying me. "It could have done something to your mind," Michael said quietly. "You might not be in control of yourself, Harry."
I took a deep breath. "That's...possible," I admitted. "Anybody's head can be messed with. But if you go rewiring someone's brain, it damages them, badly. The bigger the changes you make, the worse it disorders their mind."
"The way my daughter did to her friends," Michael said. "I know."
"So there are signs," I said. "If you know the person well enough, there are almost always signs. They act differently. Have I been acting differently? Have I suddenly gone crazy on you?"
He arched an eyebrow.
"More so than usual," I amended.
He shook his head. "No."
"Then odds are pretty good no one has scrambled my noggin," I said. "Besides which, it isn't the sort of thing one tends to overlook, and as a grade-A wizard of the White Council, I assure you that nothing like that has happened to me."
For a second he looked like he wanted to speak, but he didn't.
"Which brings us back to the only real issue here," I said. "Do you think I've gone over to them? Do you think I could do such a thing, after what I've seen?"
My friend sighed. "No, Harry."
I stepped up to him and put my hand on his shoulder. "Then trust me for a little longer. Help me for a little longer."
He searched my eyes again. "I will," he whispered, "if you answer one question for me."
I frowned at him and tilted my head. "Okay."
He took a deep breath and spoke carefully. "Harry," he said quietly, "what happened to your blasting rod?"
For a second the question didn't make any sense. The words sounded like noises, like sounds infants make before they learn to speak. Especially the last part of the sentence. "I...I'm sorry," I said. "What did you say?"
"Where," he said gently, "is your blasting rod?"
This time I heard the words.
Pain stabbed me in the head, ice picks plunging into both temples. I flinched and doubled over. Blasting rod. Familiar words. I fought to summon an image of what went with the words, but I couldn't find anything. I knew I had a memory associated with those words, but try as I might, I couldn't drag it out. It was like a shape covered by some heavy tarp. I knew an object was beneath, but I couldn't get to it.
"I don't...I don't..." I started breathing faster. The pain got worse.
Someone had been in my head.
Someone had been in my head.
Oh, God.
I must have fallen at some point, because the workshop's floor was cold underneath one of my cheeks when I felt Michael's broad, work-calloused hand gently cover my forehead.
"Father," he murmured, humbly and with no drama whatsoever. "Father, please help my friend. Father of light, banish the darkness that he may see. Father of truth, expose the lies. Father of mercy, ease his pain. Father of love, honor this good man's heart. Amen."
Michael's hand felt suddenly red-hot, and I felt power burning in the air around him-not magic, the magic I worked with every day. This was something different, something more ancient, more potent, more pure. This was the power of faith, and as that heat settled into the spaces behind my eyes, something cracked and shattered inside my thoughts.
The pain vanished so suddenly that it left me gasping, even as the image of a simple wooden rod, a couple of feet long, heavily carved with sigils and runes, leapt into the forefront of my thoughts. Along with the image of the blasting rod came thousands of memories, everything I had ever known about using magic to summon and control fire in a hurry, evocation, combat magic, and they hit me like a sledgehammer.
I lay there shuddering for a minute or two as I took it all back in. The memories filled a hole inside me I hadn't even realized was there.

Michael left his hand on my head. "Easy, Harry. Easy. Just rest for a minute. I'm right here."
I decided not to argue with him.
"Well," I rasped weakly a moment later. I opened my eyes and looked up to where Michael sat cross-legged on the floor beside me. "Somebody owes somebody here an apology."


Small Favor Chapter 38, Page 310-312
People started screaming.
I reached for the amulet around my neck and drew it forth as I directed an effort of will at it to call forth light in the darkness.
And nothing happened.
I'd have stared at my amulet if I could have seen it. I couldn't believe that it wasn't working. I shook the necklace, cursed at it, and raised it again, forcing more of my will into the amulet.
It flickered with blue-white sparks for a moment, and that was it.
Mouse let out a louder snarl, the one I hear only when he's identified a real threat. Something close. My heart jumped up hard enough to bounce off the roof of my mouth.
"I can't call a light!" I said, my voice high and thin.
A zipper let out a high-pitched whine in the dark next to me, and steel rasped against steel, then rang like a gently struck bell. "Father," Michael's voice murmured gently, "we need Your help."
White light exploded from the sword.

About a dozen things crouching within three or four yards of us started screaming.
I'd never seen anything like them before. They were maybe five feet tall, but squat and thick, with rubbery-looking muscle. They were built more or less along the lines of baboons, somewhere between pure quadruped and biped, with wicked-looking claws, long, ropy tails, and massive shoulders. Some of them carried crude-looking weapons: cudgels, stone-headed axes, and stone-bladed knives. Their heads were apelike and nearly skeletal, black skin stretched tight over muscle and bone. They had ugly, almost sharklike teeth, so oversized that you could see where they were cutting their own lips and-
And they didn't have any eyes. Where their eyes should have been there was nothing but blank, sunken skin.
They screamed in agony as the light from Michael's sword fell on them, reeling back as if burned by a sudden flame-and if the sudden, smoldering reek that filled the air was any indicator, they had been.


Small Favor Chapter 23, Page 185

Skin Game
I used the sound as a point of reference and whirled my staff in a swooping arc, its green-silver soulfire-infused light driving back the substance of the Fallen angel still trying to compress in upon me. My will gathered more Winter ice around the end of the staff in an irregular globe the size of my head and harder than stone, and I aimed at the source of the sound and cried, "Forzare!"

A lance of pure kinetic energy flung the hailstone from the end of my staff and out through the darkness like a cannonball, and it hit something with an enormous and meaty-sounding thunk of obdurate ice against muscle-dense flesh. I must have gotten him in the breadbasket, because instead of roaring, the Genoskwa let out a windy, seething sound.

Steel rang on steel again, and I heard workboots pound the marble, coming near me. Michael shouted, "Omnia vincit amor!" and the blinding white fire of Amoracchius shattered the darkness around me as if it had been a dry and dusty eggshell.
My vision returned. Nicodemus was coming along in Michael's wake, blade in hand, but as Anduriel was shattered, he screamed and staggered, falling to one knee and only managed that because he threw out his left arm to support himself.



Skin Game Chapter 43, Page 360
If you can break Mab's spells at need, a spectre possessing a child against its will is going to die-die.

You are really underestimating who you are sending along in Molly's wake, and how deep his toolbox is.
No problem if you want to lowball them, but if we're working off their canon feats defence of innocents is particularly when you are likely to see significant work.

I actually thought you were setting things up for a Holy Smite, and then Cindy went and rolled a literally legendary success on her Willpower roll and spoiled the setup.
I'll try and take the time to find a feats list for the Knights later tonight

EDIT
Also, Michael was a medical corpsman, and a military vet.
The bone hadn't actually come out of the skin, but it looked like it would only take a little push to make it happen. My forearm was swollen up like a sausage. The area around the upraised bone was purple and blotchy, and something that looked like blisters had come up on my skin. Michael took my arm and laid it out straight on the table. He began to prod it gently with his fingertips.
"Radial fracture," he said quietly.
"You're a doctor now?"
"I was a medical corpsman when I served," he replied. "Saw plenty of breaks." He looked up and said, "You don't want to go to the hospital, I take it?"

I shook my head.
"Of course not," he said. He prodded some more. "I think it's a clean break."
"Can you set it?"
"Maybe," he said. "But without imaging equipment, I'll have to do it by feel. It could heal crookedly if I'm not good enough."
"I'd kill most of that equipment just by walking into the room with it," I said.
He nodded. "We'll have to immobilize the wrist right away once it's done."
"Don't know if I can afford that."
"You can't not afford it," he replied bluntly. "Assuming I get it set, one twist of your hand will shift the bone at the break. You've got to immobilize and protect it or the ends will just grind together instead of healing."
I winced. "Can you do a cast?"
"There's too much swelling," he said. "We'll have to splint it and wait for the swelling to go down before it can take a proper cast. I could call Dr. Butters."
I flinched at the suggestion. "He's . . . sort of wary of me right now. And you know how much he doesn't like working on living people."
Michael frowned at me for a moment, studying my face carefully. Then he said, "I see." He nodded and said, "Wait here."
Then he got up and went out his back door, toward his workshop. He came back a few moments later with a tool-bag of items and set them out on the table. He washed his hands, and then took some antibacterial towelettes to my arm. Then he took my wrist and forearm in square, powerful hands.
"This will hurt," he advised me.
"Meh," I said.
"Lean back against the pull." Then he began pulling with one hand, and putting gentle pressure on the upraised bone with the other.
It turned out that even the Winter Knight's mantle has limits. Either that, or the batteries were low. A dull, bone-deep throb roared up my arm, the same pain you feel just before your limbs go numb while submerged in freezing water, only magnified. I was too tired to scream.
Besides.
I had it coming.
After a minute of pure, awful sensation, Michael exhaled and said, "I think it's back in place. Don't move it."
I sat there panting, unable to respond.
Michael wrapped the arm in a few layers of gauze, his hands moving slowly at first, and then with increasing confidence—old reflexes, resurfacing. Then he took the rectangular piece of sheet aluminum he'd brought in from his workshop, gave my arm a cursory glance, and used a pair of pliers and his capable hands to bend it into a U-shape. He slid it over my hand at the knuckles, leaving my thumb and fingers free. The brace framed my arm most of the way to my elbow. He slid it back off and adjusted the angle of the bend slightly before putting it back on. Then he took a heavier bandage and secured the brace to my arm.
"How's that?" he asked, when he was finished.
I tested it very, very gingerly. "I can't twist my wrist. Of course, there's a problem with that."
"Oh?"
I spoke as lightly as I could. "Yeah, I can't twist my wrist. What if there's some incredibly deadly situation that can only be resolved by me twisting my left wrist? It could happen. In fact, I'm not quite sure how it could not happen, now."
He sat back, his eyes steady on my face.
I dropped the joking tone. "Thank you, Michael," I said. I took a deep breath. There was no point in saying anything else, here. It must have been the broken arm talking, telling me it was a good idea to open up to someone. "I should go."


Skin Game Chapter 20, Page 142-144
Medicine 2. Maybe Medicine 3 at the high end if you're being generous, but definitely Medicine 2.
 
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It doesnt have to, generally.
The Knight can do that on their own, and Michael in particular has wielded what Dresden would call faith magic, and Michael would simply call prayer. Citations:

Grave Peril
"We're doing all we can," Michael assured me. "If God wills it, we'll be there in time. Are you sure of your ..." his mouth twisted with distaste, "source?"
"Bob is annoying, but rarely wrong," I answered, jamming on the brakes and dodging around a garbage truck. "If he said the ghost would be there, it will be there."
"Lord be with us," Michael said, and crossed himself. I felt a stirring of something powerful, placid energy around him - the power of faith. "Harry, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

Grave Peril Chapter 1, Page 2


"Then we best hurry." He cast the white cloak back from his right arm, and put his hand on the hilt of the great broadsword. Then he bowed his head, crossed himself, and murmured, "Merciful Father, guide us and protect us as we go to do battle with the darkness." Once more, there was that thrum of energy around him, like the vibrations of music heard through a thick wall.

Grave Peril Chapter 1, Page 5
Small Favor:
Michael folded his arms, studying me. "It could have done something to your mind," Michael said quietly. "You might not be in control of yourself, Harry."
I took a deep breath. "That's...possible," I admitted. "Anybody's head can be messed with. But if you go rewiring someone's brain, it damages them, badly. The bigger the changes you make, the worse it disorders their mind."
"The way my daughter did to her friends," Michael said. "I know."
"So there are signs," I said. "If you know the person well enough, there are almost always signs. They act differently. Have I been acting differently? Have I suddenly gone crazy on you?"
He arched an eyebrow.
"More so than usual," I amended.
He shook his head. "No."
"Then odds are pretty good no one has scrambled my noggin," I said. "Besides which, it isn't the sort of thing one tends to overlook, and as a grade-A wizard of the White Council, I assure you that nothing like that has happened to me."
For a second he looked like he wanted to speak, but he didn't.
"Which brings us back to the only real issue here," I said. "Do you think I've gone over to them? Do you think I could do such a thing, after what I've seen?"
My friend sighed. "No, Harry."
I stepped up to him and put my hand on his shoulder. "Then trust me for a little longer. Help me for a little longer."
He searched my eyes again. "I will," he whispered, "if you answer one question for me."
I frowned at him and tilted my head. "Okay."
He took a deep breath and spoke carefully. "Harry," he said quietly, "what happened to your blasting rod?"
For a second the question didn't make any sense. The words sounded like noises, like sounds infants make before they learn to speak. Especially the last part of the sentence. "I...I'm sorry," I said. "What did you say?"
"Where," he said gently, "is your blasting rod?"
This time I heard the words.
Pain stabbed me in the head, ice picks plunging into both temples. I flinched and doubled over. Blasting rod. Familiar words. I fought to summon an image of what went with the words, but I couldn't find anything. I knew I had a memory associated with those words, but try as I might, I couldn't drag it out. It was like a shape covered by some heavy tarp. I knew an object was beneath, but I couldn't get to it.
"I don't...I don't..." I started breathing faster. The pain got worse.
Someone had been in my head.
Someone had been in my head.
Oh, God.
I must have fallen at some point, because the workshop's floor was cold underneath one of my cheeks when I felt Michael's broad, work-calloused hand gently cover my forehead.
"Father," he murmured, humbly and with no drama whatsoever. "Father, please help my friend. Father of light, banish the darkness that he may see. Father of truth, expose the lies. Father of mercy, ease his pain. Father of love, honor this good man's heart. Amen."
Michael's hand felt suddenly red-hot, and I felt power burning in the air around him-not magic, the magic I worked with every day. This was something different, something more ancient, more potent, more pure. This was the power of faith, and as that heat settled into the spaces behind my eyes, something cracked and shattered inside my thoughts.
The pain vanished so suddenly that it left me gasping, even as the image of a simple wooden rod, a couple of feet long, heavily carved with sigils and runes, leapt into the forefront of my thoughts. Along with the image of the blasting rod came thousands of memories, everything I had ever known about using magic to summon and control fire in a hurry, evocation, combat magic, and they hit me like a sledgehammer.
I lay there shuddering for a minute or two as I took it all back in. The memories filled a hole inside me I hadn't even realized was there.

Michael left his hand on my head. "Easy, Harry. Easy. Just rest for a minute. I'm right here."
I decided not to argue with him.
"Well," I rasped weakly a moment later. I opened my eyes and looked up to where Michael sat cross-legged on the floor beside me. "Somebody owes somebody here an apology."


Small Favor Chapter 38, Page 310-312
People started screaming.
I reached for the amulet around my neck and drew it forth as I directed an effort of will at it to call forth light in the darkness.
And nothing happened.
I'd have stared at my amulet if I could have seen it. I couldn't believe that it wasn't working. I shook the necklace, cursed at it, and raised it again, forcing more of my will into the amulet.
It flickered with blue-white sparks for a moment, and that was it.
Mouse let out a louder snarl, the one I hear only when he's identified a real threat. Something close. My heart jumped up hard enough to bounce off the roof of my mouth.
"I can't call a light!" I said, my voice high and thin.
A zipper let out a high-pitched whine in the dark next to me, and steel rasped against steel, then rang like a gently struck bell. "Father," Michael's voice murmured gently, "we need Your help."
White light exploded from the sword.

About a dozen things crouching within three or four yards of us started screaming.
I'd never seen anything like them before. They were maybe five feet tall, but squat and thick, with rubbery-looking muscle. They were built more or less along the lines of baboons, somewhere between pure quadruped and biped, with wicked-looking claws, long, ropy tails, and massive shoulders. Some of them carried crude-looking weapons: cudgels, stone-headed axes, and stone-bladed knives. Their heads were apelike and nearly skeletal, black skin stretched tight over muscle and bone. They had ugly, almost sharklike teeth, so oversized that you could see where they were cutting their own lips and-
And they didn't have any eyes. Where their eyes should have been there was nothing but blank, sunken skin.
They screamed in agony as the light from Michael's sword fell on them, reeling back as if burned by a sudden flame-and if the sudden, smoldering reek that filled the air was any indicator, they had been.


Small Favor Chapter 23, Page 185

Skin Game
I used the sound as a point of reference and whirled my staff in a swooping arc, its green-silver soulfire-infused light driving back the substance of the Fallen angel still trying to compress in upon me. My will gathered more Winter ice around the end of the staff in an irregular globe the size of my head and harder than stone, and I aimed at the source of the sound and cried, "Forzare!"

A lance of pure kinetic energy flung the hailstone from the end of my staff and out through the darkness like a cannonball, and it hit something with an enormous and meaty-sounding thunk of obdurate ice against muscle-dense flesh. I must have gotten him in the breadbasket, because instead of roaring, the Genoskwa let out a windy, seething sound.

Steel rang on steel again, and I heard workboots pound the marble, coming near me. Michael shouted, "Omnia vincit amor!" and the blinding white fire of Amoracchius shattered the darkness around me as if it had been a dry and dusty eggshell.
My vision returned. Nicodemus was coming along in Michael's wake, blade in hand, but as Anduriel was shattered, he screamed and staggered, falling to one knee and only managed that because he threw out his left arm to support himself.



Skin Game Chapter 43, Page 360

You are really underestimating who you are sending along in Molly's wake, and how deep his toolbox is.
No problem if you want to lowball them, but if we're working off their canon feats defence of innocents is particularly when you are likely to see significant work.

I actually thought you were setting things up for a Holy Smite, and then Cindy went and rolled a literally legendary success on her Willpower roll and spoiled the setup.
I'll try and take the time to find a feats list for the Knights later tonight

EDIT
Also, Michael was a medical corpsman, and a military vet.
The bone hadn't actually come out of the skin, but it looked like it would only take a little push to make it happen. My forearm was swollen up like a sausage. The area around the upraised bone was purple and blotchy, and something that looked like blisters had come up on my skin. Michael took my arm and laid it out straight on the table. He began to prod it gently with his fingertips.
"Radial fracture," he said quietly.
"You're a doctor now?"
"I was a medical corpsman when I served," he replied. "Saw plenty of breaks." He looked up and said, "You don't want to go to the hospital, I take it?"

I shook my head.
"Of course not," he said. He prodded some more. "I think it's a clean break."
"Can you set it?"
"Maybe," he said. "But without imaging equipment, I'll have to do it by feel. It could heal crookedly if I'm not good enough."
"I'd kill most of that equipment just by walking into the room with it," I said.
He nodded. "We'll have to immobilize the wrist right away once it's done."
"Don't know if I can afford that."
"You can't not afford it," he replied bluntly. "Assuming I get it set, one twist of your hand will shift the bone at the break. You've got to immobilize and protect it or the ends will just grind together instead of healing."
I winced. "Can you do a cast?"
"There's too much swelling," he said. "We'll have to splint it and wait for the swelling to go down before it can take a proper cast. I could call Dr. Butters."
I flinched at the suggestion. "He's . . . sort of wary of me right now. And you know how much he doesn't like working on living people."
Michael frowned at me for a moment, studying my face carefully. Then he said, "I see." He nodded and said, "Wait here."
Then he got up and went out his back door, toward his workshop. He came back a few moments later with a tool-bag of items and set them out on the table. He washed his hands, and then took some antibacterial towelettes to my arm. Then he took my wrist and forearm in square, powerful hands.
"This will hurt," he advised me.
"Meh," I said.
"Lean back against the pull." Then he began pulling with one hand, and putting gentle pressure on the upraised bone with the other.
It turned out that even the Winter Knight's mantle has limits. Either that, or the batteries were low. A dull, bone-deep throb roared up my arm, the same pain you feel just before your limbs go numb while submerged in freezing water, only magnified. I was too tired to scream.
Besides.
I had it coming.
After a minute of pure, awful sensation, Michael exhaled and said, "I think it's back in place. Don't move it."
I sat there panting, unable to respond.
Michael wrapped the arm in a few layers of gauze, his hands moving slowly at first, and then with increasing confidence—old reflexes, resurfacing. Then he took the rectangular piece of sheet aluminum he'd brought in from his workshop, gave my arm a cursory glance, and used a pair of pliers and his capable hands to bend it into a U-shape. He slid it over my hand at the knuckles, leaving my thumb and fingers free. The brace framed my arm most of the way to my elbow. He slid it back off and adjusted the angle of the bend slightly before putting it back on. Then he took a heavier bandage and secured the brace to my arm.
"How's that?" he asked, when he was finished.
I tested it very, very gingerly. "I can't twist my wrist. Of course, there's a problem with that."
"Oh?"
I spoke as lightly as I could. "Yeah, I can't twist my wrist. What if there's some incredibly deadly situation that can only be resolved by me twisting my left wrist? It could happen. In fact, I'm not quite sure how it could not happen, now."
He sat back, his eyes steady on my face.
I dropped the joking tone. "Thank you, Michael," I said. I took a deep breath. There was no point in saying anything else, here. It must have been the broken arm talking, telling me it was a good idea to open up to someone. "I should go."


Skin Game Chapter 20, Page 142-144
Medicine 2. Maybe Medicine 3, depending on how good he was.


Oh sure, but that is not quite the same thing as doing the same thing with his mere presence for the purposes of the quest because prayer (mechanically the invocation of True Faith) still costs an action. So Michael can counter-spell or he can sword... or he can do both and take the multi-action penalty.
 
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[X] Try to calm her
-[X] STUNT: Dismissing your sword, you go down on one knee as she shrinks back against the wall in the light of your anima, feeling unaccountably old. "Hi, Cindy. I'm Molly. I visited your grandpa yesterday with Warden Dresden. An evil witch had you kidnapped and hidden away to blackmail your grandfather, and we are getting you out of here. That" you cock a thumb over your shoulder "is my dad, and the lady's a friend who agreed to help. That...thing was a bad spirit, sorta like a dementor. And you fought it off, long enough for us to chase it away." And because you cant help yourself, you continue. "Yer a wizard, Cindy."


Just some modifications, to account for Cindy's age, and also to not lie about Matthews asking for help (he would welcome it, but he didn't ask us to help him).
 
[X] Try to calm her

you do remember that Molly dismisses her sword by stabbing it into her heart? :p
Stunt
:V
I think the wording here might be a bit too...childish?

Cindy is 12 or 13, right? "A very bad lady" sounds like something you would say to a 6 year-old, not a tween. Maybe use something like "A psycho bitch" or, sticking with the Harry Potter references, "A Voldemort wannabe" instead?
Deliberately so. As a distraction.
The girl who is distracted with indignation about being treated like she is six isnt panicking about the ghost-spectre thing that wanted to wear her like a puppet suit, or all the other random supernatural shit.

Like I said, Big Sister Energy.
Molly knows what buttons to push to get what reactions from girls her age.
Oh sure, but that is not quite the same thing as doing the same thing with his mere presence for the purposes of the quest because prayer (mechanically the invocation of True Faith) still costs an action. So Michael can counter-spell or he can sword... or he can do both and take the multi-action penalty.
Not really an issue.

A spectre in a human's body is still using that body's Physical Attributes judging from canon, possibly at a penalty because unwilling possession. It might have better Abilities depending on the spirit, but its running at an age penalty in a physical confrontation against adult/near adult opponents.

What we get is a situation where Molly and Gard cant stab it to death because innocent kid.
Which is still one where they can trivially subdue the body for Michael.

EDIT
Basically, possessing the kid successfully would have made the spectre's tactical position drastically worse than it already was.

Which is why I thought it was a Michael setpiece to show off a little when it tried to jump inside the kid.
Cant blame Kattrin here; taking the kid hostage would have worked against most raiders without a proper wizard or a cleric.
Noone expects the Spanish Inquisition Knight of the Cross
 
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I was not really talking about hypotieticals. I was just pointing out that Cindy did not get any bonuses to her actual will roll from Michael since all his actions were spent on trying to hit the specter. She was by default higher than him in the initiative order so by the time Michael could act the will roll had happened.
 
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