Molly does not know enough about the Archive to roll, the Archive herself does not think there is significant risk to herself, but since you rolled so high on the rolls to read her I will say this much there is an intimacy involved so she might not be completely unbiased in that assessment.
Green Flame Rising (Exalted vs Dresden Files)
- Thread starter DragonParadox
- Start date
- Crossover Fantasy
Molly does not know enough about the Archive to roll, the Archive herself does not think there is significant risk to herself, but since you rolled so high on the rolls to read her I will say this much there is an intimacy involved so she might not be completely unbiased in that assessment.
That all assumes that the block she ran afoul of is related to some periphery features of Archive abilities and not one of foundational ones on which its functions are based. Should Molly give her the mental shield in theory? Yes. Should she do it without doing proper research first? No.
No, that is the point at which someone called her 'the Archive', according to Lash. Lash herself calls her the Seer and knows as a matter of fact that is as old as Ur.
A completely untrained Molly was never more than a local threat.
An untrained Exalt, especially an untrained Celestial Exalt can be a global one with no training or external support.
Solaroids in particular are designed to roll that way.
Nope.
Any advanced equipment he has came from the Tepet legions he shattered on the battlefield.
Solar bullshit is Solar bullshit.
I dont see how the position of strength argument is relevant.
Uriel divested of his Grace isnt wielding any power in the setting; someone else is doing so.
Im not seeing your argument.
When Uriel depowered himself, he wasnt out there acting; he was sitting in the Carpenter home, with the Carpenter family, with angels guarding the place. Nemesis OTOH actively operates by spreading himself around a number of Nfested hosts.
Uriel on the job is effectively untouchable. Nemesis isnt.
Yurgen Koneko was an illiterate tribesman who Exalted in his sixties and suddenly became capable of running an empire and an army of thousands of tribesmen and allied entities, molding them into being capable of defeating a legion of professional Imperial soldiers. He qualifies as a barbarian by any relevant local metric.
The Empire in general, and the Tepet legions in particular had centuries of experience running expeditionary forces into hostile territory, and all the infrastructure they inherited from the Shogunate. To have a tribal warlord kick their heads in the way the Bull did would have been impossible short of Glorious Solar Bullshit or something on that level of advantage.
If we followed my advice in this instance, we'd go back and do our homework before deciding if we should act, and how
Just like I wrote down in my vote.
You do not fiddle with supernatural Skynet lightly, or without doing your own homework.
Nah. Five thousand years.
The younger men cleared out to the living room-a polite illusion, really. The house was too small to provide much in the way of privacy.
Luccio poured herself a cup of tea and sat down across from me.
I felt my shoulders tense up a little. I forced myself to remain quiet, and sipped more tea.
"I'm concerned," Luccio said quietly, "about the Archive."
"Her name is Ivy," I said.
She frowned. "That's…part of my concern, Harry. Your personal closeness with her. It's dangerous."
I lifted my eyebrows. "Dangerous? I'm in danger because I'm treating her like a real person?"
Luccio grimaced as if tasting something bitter. "Frankly? Yes."
I thought about being diplomatic and polite. Honest, I really did. But while I was thinking about it, I accidentally bumped the button that puts my mouth on autopilot, because it said, "That's a load of crap, Captain, and you know it."
Her expression went still as the whole of her attention focused on me. "Is it?"
"Yes. She's a kid. She's alone. She's not some computer database, and it's inhuman to treat her like one."
"Yes," Luccio said bluntly. "It is. And it's also the safest way to deal with her."
"Safest for who?" I demanded.
Luccio took a sip of tea. "For everyone."
I frowned down at my cup. "Tell me."
She nodded. "The Archive…has been around for a long time. Always passed down in a family line, mother to daughter. Usually the Archive is inherited by a woman when she's in her early to mid-thirties, when her mother dies, and after she's given birth to her own daughter. Accidents are rare. Part of the Archive's nature is a drive to protect itself, a need to avoid exposing the person hosting it to risk. And given the extensive knowledge available to it, the Archive is very good at avoiding risky situations in the first place. And, should they arise, the power available to the Archive generally ensures its survival. It is extremely rare for the host of an Archive to die young."
I grunted. "Go on."
"When the Archive is passed…Harry, try to imagine living your life, with all of its triumphs and tragedies-and suddenly you find yourself with a second set of memories, every bit as real to you as your own. A second set of heartaches, loves, triumphs, losses. All of them just as real-and then a third. And a fourth. And a fifth. And more and more and more. The perfect memory, the absolute recall of every Archive that came before you. Five thousand years of them."
I blinked at that. "Hell's bells. That would…"
"Drive one insane," Luccio said. "Yes. And it generally does. There is a reason that the historical record for many soothsayers and oracles presents them as being madwomen. The Pythia, and many, many others, were simply the Archive, using her vast knowledge of the past to build models to predict the most probable future. She was a madwoman-but she was also the Archive.
"As a defense, the Archives began to distance themselves from other human beings, emotionally. They reasoned that if they could stop adding the weight of continuing lifetimes of experience and grief to the already immense burden of carrying so much knowledge, it might better enable them to function. And it did. The Archive keeps its host emotionally remote for a reason-because otherwise the passions and prejudices and hatreds and jealousies of thousands of lifetimes have the potential to distill themselves into a single being.
"Normally, an Archive would have her own lifetime of experience to insulate her against all these other emotions and memories, a baseline to contrast against them."
I suddenly got it. "But Ivy doesn't."
"Ivy doesn't," Luccio agreed. "Her grandmother was killed in a freak accident, an automobile crash, I believe. Her mother was a seventeen-year-old girl who was in love, and pregnant. She hated her mother for dying and cursing her to carry the Archive when she wanted to have her own life-and she hated the child for having a lifetime of freedom ahead of her. Ivy's mother killed herself rather than carry the Archive."
I started feeling a little sick. "And Ivy knows it."
"She does. Knows it, feels it. She was born knowing exactly what her mother thought and felt about her."
"How could you know this about her…" I frowned, thinking. Then said, "Kincaid. The girl was in love with Kincaid."
"No," Luccio said. "But Kincaid was working for Ivy's grandmother at the time, and the girl confided in him."
"Man, that's screwed up," I said.
"Ivy has remained distant her whole life," Luccio said. "If she begins to involve her own emotions in her duties as the Archive, or in her life generally, she runs the serious risk of being overwhelmed with emotions and passions which she simply is not-and cannot be-psychologically equipped to handle."
"You're afraid that she could go out of control."
"The Archive was created to be a neutral force. A repository of knowledge. But what if Ivy's unique circumstance allowed her to ignore those limitations? Imagine the results of the anger and bitterness and desire for revenge of all those lifetimes, combined with the power of the Archive and the restraint of a twelve-year-old child."
"I'd rather not," I said quietly.
"Nor would I," Luccio said. "That could be a true nightmare. All that knowledge, without conscience to direct it. The necromancer Kemmler had such a spirit in his service, a sort of miniature version of the Archive. Nowhere near as powerful, but it had been studying and learning beside wizards for generations, and the things it was capable of were appalling." She shook her head.
I took a sip of tea, because otherwise the gulp would have been suspicious. She was talking about Bob. And she was right about what Bob was capable of doing. When I'd unlocked the personality he'd taken on under some of his former owners, he'd nearly killed me.
"The Wardens destroyed it, of course," she said.
No, they hadn't. Justin DuMorne, former Warden, hadn't destroyed the skull. He'd smuggled it from Kemmler's lab and kept it in his own-until I'd burned him to death, and taken it from him in turn.
"It was just too much power under too little restraint. And it's entirely possible that the Archive could become a similar threat on a far larger scale. I know you care about the child, Harry. But you had to be warned. You might not be doing her any favors by acting like her friend."
"Who's acting?" I said. "Where is she?"
"We've been keeping her asleep," Luccio said, "until you or Kincaid got here."
"I get it," I said. "You don't think I should get close to her. Unless you're worried about what's going to happen when you wake her up and she's really scared and confused."
Luccio's cheeks flushed and she looked away. "I don't have all the answers, Dresden. I just have concerns."
I sighed.
"Whatever," I said. "Let me see her."
Luccio led me into Murph's guest bedroom. Ivy looked very tiny in the double bed. I sat down beside her, and Luccio leaned over to gently rest her hand on Ivy's head. She murmured something and drew her hand away.
Ivy let out a small whimper and then blinked her eyes open, suddenly hyperventilating. She looked around wildly, her eyes wide, and let out a small cry.
"Easy, easy," I said gently. "Ivy, it's all right. You're safe."
She sobbed and flung herself tight against me.
I hugged her. I just rocked her gently and hugged her while she cried and cried.
Luccio watched me, her eyes compassionate and sad.
After a long while Ivy whispered, "I got your letter. Thank you."
I squeezed a little.
"They did things to me," she said.
"I know," I said quietly. "Been there. But I was all right after a while. You're going to be all right. It's over."
She hugged me some more, and cried herself back to sleep.
Luccio poured herself a cup of tea and sat down across from me.
I felt my shoulders tense up a little. I forced myself to remain quiet, and sipped more tea.
"I'm concerned," Luccio said quietly, "about the Archive."
"Her name is Ivy," I said.
She frowned. "That's…part of my concern, Harry. Your personal closeness with her. It's dangerous."
I lifted my eyebrows. "Dangerous? I'm in danger because I'm treating her like a real person?"
Luccio grimaced as if tasting something bitter. "Frankly? Yes."
I thought about being diplomatic and polite. Honest, I really did. But while I was thinking about it, I accidentally bumped the button that puts my mouth on autopilot, because it said, "That's a load of crap, Captain, and you know it."
Her expression went still as the whole of her attention focused on me. "Is it?"
"Yes. She's a kid. She's alone. She's not some computer database, and it's inhuman to treat her like one."
"Yes," Luccio said bluntly. "It is. And it's also the safest way to deal with her."
"Safest for who?" I demanded.
Luccio took a sip of tea. "For everyone."
I frowned down at my cup. "Tell me."
She nodded. "The Archive…has been around for a long time. Always passed down in a family line, mother to daughter. Usually the Archive is inherited by a woman when she's in her early to mid-thirties, when her mother dies, and after she's given birth to her own daughter. Accidents are rare. Part of the Archive's nature is a drive to protect itself, a need to avoid exposing the person hosting it to risk. And given the extensive knowledge available to it, the Archive is very good at avoiding risky situations in the first place. And, should they arise, the power available to the Archive generally ensures its survival. It is extremely rare for the host of an Archive to die young."
I grunted. "Go on."
"When the Archive is passed…Harry, try to imagine living your life, with all of its triumphs and tragedies-and suddenly you find yourself with a second set of memories, every bit as real to you as your own. A second set of heartaches, loves, triumphs, losses. All of them just as real-and then a third. And a fourth. And a fifth. And more and more and more. The perfect memory, the absolute recall of every Archive that came before you. Five thousand years of them."
I blinked at that. "Hell's bells. That would…"
"Drive one insane," Luccio said. "Yes. And it generally does. There is a reason that the historical record for many soothsayers and oracles presents them as being madwomen. The Pythia, and many, many others, were simply the Archive, using her vast knowledge of the past to build models to predict the most probable future. She was a madwoman-but she was also the Archive.
"As a defense, the Archives began to distance themselves from other human beings, emotionally. They reasoned that if they could stop adding the weight of continuing lifetimes of experience and grief to the already immense burden of carrying so much knowledge, it might better enable them to function. And it did. The Archive keeps its host emotionally remote for a reason-because otherwise the passions and prejudices and hatreds and jealousies of thousands of lifetimes have the potential to distill themselves into a single being.
"Normally, an Archive would have her own lifetime of experience to insulate her against all these other emotions and memories, a baseline to contrast against them."
I suddenly got it. "But Ivy doesn't."
"Ivy doesn't," Luccio agreed. "Her grandmother was killed in a freak accident, an automobile crash, I believe. Her mother was a seventeen-year-old girl who was in love, and pregnant. She hated her mother for dying and cursing her to carry the Archive when she wanted to have her own life-and she hated the child for having a lifetime of freedom ahead of her. Ivy's mother killed herself rather than carry the Archive."
I started feeling a little sick. "And Ivy knows it."
"She does. Knows it, feels it. She was born knowing exactly what her mother thought and felt about her."
"How could you know this about her…" I frowned, thinking. Then said, "Kincaid. The girl was in love with Kincaid."
"No," Luccio said. "But Kincaid was working for Ivy's grandmother at the time, and the girl confided in him."
"Man, that's screwed up," I said.
"Ivy has remained distant her whole life," Luccio said. "If she begins to involve her own emotions in her duties as the Archive, or in her life generally, she runs the serious risk of being overwhelmed with emotions and passions which she simply is not-and cannot be-psychologically equipped to handle."
"You're afraid that she could go out of control."
"The Archive was created to be a neutral force. A repository of knowledge. But what if Ivy's unique circumstance allowed her to ignore those limitations? Imagine the results of the anger and bitterness and desire for revenge of all those lifetimes, combined with the power of the Archive and the restraint of a twelve-year-old child."
"I'd rather not," I said quietly.
"Nor would I," Luccio said. "That could be a true nightmare. All that knowledge, without conscience to direct it. The necromancer Kemmler had such a spirit in his service, a sort of miniature version of the Archive. Nowhere near as powerful, but it had been studying and learning beside wizards for generations, and the things it was capable of were appalling." She shook her head.
I took a sip of tea, because otherwise the gulp would have been suspicious. She was talking about Bob. And she was right about what Bob was capable of doing. When I'd unlocked the personality he'd taken on under some of his former owners, he'd nearly killed me.
"The Wardens destroyed it, of course," she said.
No, they hadn't. Justin DuMorne, former Warden, hadn't destroyed the skull. He'd smuggled it from Kemmler's lab and kept it in his own-until I'd burned him to death, and taken it from him in turn.
"It was just too much power under too little restraint. And it's entirely possible that the Archive could become a similar threat on a far larger scale. I know you care about the child, Harry. But you had to be warned. You might not be doing her any favors by acting like her friend."
"Who's acting?" I said. "Where is she?"
"We've been keeping her asleep," Luccio said, "until you or Kincaid got here."
"I get it," I said. "You don't think I should get close to her. Unless you're worried about what's going to happen when you wake her up and she's really scared and confused."
Luccio's cheeks flushed and she looked away. "I don't have all the answers, Dresden. I just have concerns."
I sighed.
"Whatever," I said. "Let me see her."
Luccio led me into Murph's guest bedroom. Ivy looked very tiny in the double bed. I sat down beside her, and Luccio leaned over to gently rest her hand on Ivy's head. She murmured something and drew her hand away.
Ivy let out a small whimper and then blinked her eyes open, suddenly hyperventilating. She looked around wildly, her eyes wide, and let out a small cry.
"Easy, easy," I said gently. "Ivy, it's all right. You're safe."
She sobbed and flung herself tight against me.
I hugged her. I just rocked her gently and hugged her while she cried and cried.
Luccio watched me, her eyes compassionate and sad.
After a long while Ivy whispered, "I got your letter. Thank you."
I squeezed a little.
"They did things to me," she said.
"I know," I said quietly. "Been there. But I was all right after a while. You're going to be all right. It's over."
She hugged me some more, and cried herself back to sleep.
And its current behaviors are a deliberate coping mechanism for memories that stretch that far back.
Last edited:
Thanks. Now, what does Ivy want exactly? Does she only want a 2 dot mind control + possession protecion? Or a 3 dot version? And, if it's a 3 dot version, what does she want protection against? Bullets and swords?
Actually, in the spirit of solving everything with Craft, how would
This Splendor manifests the resources of a Background, chosen at the time of the Splendor's
creation. The Background is either Arsenal or Library (see M20, p. 318).
As an Adornment, the character may spend a turn and a point of Willpower to simply manifest
whatever equipment or research materials they desire from their Arsenal or Library. They have
an effective rating in the Background equal to the Splendor's rating while wearing it.
As a Fascination, Panoply of Wonders requires that the Splendor also have a location-type Form
Element such as Form of the Hearth. The chosen Background has a dot rating equal to the
Splendor's rating, and manifests throughout the affected area.
creation. The Background is either Arsenal or Library (see M20, p. 318).
As an Adornment, the character may spend a turn and a point of Willpower to simply manifest
whatever equipment or research materials they desire from their Arsenal or Library. They have
an effective rating in the Background equal to the Splendor's rating while wearing it.
As a Fascination, Panoply of Wonders requires that the Splendor also have a location-type Form
Element such as Form of the Hearth. The chosen Background has a dot rating equal to the
Splendor's rating, and manifests throughout the affected area.
- Location
- Germany
To be fair, the Bull of the North was one among thousands even among Solar Exalted.
Most died and failed, he beat the odds.
Most Exalted who start making too many enemies too early in their career will still be put down by the local supernatural powers.
BoredMan
Maintaining the Agenda is our top priority
I gotta say, I disagree with that one holy hell.
Ignoring the fact that Nemesis entire amount of hosts could up and die, and Nemesis would be back the next day at full power. Everybody else was just playing hold back the final end, Nemesis only need to win once, everybody else needed to always win, because they don't get a second chance. Molly is the only one with a spirit killer effect to do permanent damage to Nemesis, to finally remove it from the board.
- Location
- Germany
Depends heavily on the circumstances.
Right now our initiative is great and our sword instantly in our hand, so I'd bet we could kill Ivy.
Her Grandma died to a car crash after all, no supernaturally enhanced physique for sure.
If, on the other hand, Ivy had a chance to put her vast magical lore into practice she could likely do a McCoy and cause something that leaves this bar and everyone (except Mac maybe) in it in a smoking hole where that quarter of Chicago used to be.
She's a squishy caster taken to the extreme.
A completely untrained Molly was also passing undetected under the nose of a Knight of the Cross and Warden commander of local area. Something that a new exalt very much wouldn't be able to do.
And, for most of its history and for most of its victims, wyld hunt was effective in taking down newly exalted. And wyld hunts had to operate in worse conditions than what would be available to exalted-suppression forces (if properly organized) in modern world.
I'm not sure how much clearer I can make the parallel, unless you are willfully blind.
Your position: Nemesis can't be Uriel's equal in power.
Your argument: Uriel is far more indestructible than Nemesis
Your supporting evidence: Mab was able to permanently injure Nemesis
My counter-argument: There are conditions under which Uriel is as or more vulnerable as a mortal. We don't know what specific conditions Nemesis is operating under, so we don't know how vulnerable removing him from Maeve made him.
My supporting evidence: Uriel was injured by mortal hands after lending Michael his Grace. Nemesis clearly can't spread infinitely, so possession is not a free action, so there must be some manner of price for it.
Yes, because Uriel is operating from the position of strength on his home turf. Nemesis is an infiltrator acting in an intrinsically hostile territory behind enemy lines in environment that doesn't actually support his form of existence
No amount of experience will help you if you are sabotaged. No amount of experience will help you if your caught in a bad position and then destroyed. If your legions are broken by bad morale and starvation, you are dead.
Five solars An adamant Sorcerer, a master diplomat who was capable of turning the gods to their side, A night cast to assassinate key personnel In damage their supplies even further, A speaker inspiring enough to recruit tens of thousands of people to fight with them, Led by a an Illiterate, yes, but that doesn't mean stupid, All he has to be to win that battle is be Competent. The legion is outnumbered in enemy territory with low supply sabotaged from within by the Empire they are from. They were never meant to win and it shows.
Bull also had a full circle that almost never get mentioned backing him up, he was not a solo act.
BoredMan
Maintaining the Agenda is our top priority
Sure that sounds about right but that wasn't what Uju had implied.
I wouldnt go that far. Hundreds maybe.
I do agree with your second statement.
But too many can be relative.
I quote:
"Not really a surprise," I muttered, raking my fingers through my hair. I'd gone to sleep wearing one of Michael's old pairs of sweats and one of his T-shirts, so my ankles stuck way out, and both shirt and sweats fit me as well as a tent. "Whatever they're doing to keep Ivy restrained, it's got to be pretty elaborate. I'd hold my calls until I was sure it was solid, too."
"As would I," Luccio agreed.
"Is she really that dangerous?" Michael asked.
"Yes," Luccio said calmly. "The Council regards her as a significant power in her own right, on par with the youngest Queens of the Sidhe Courts."
"If anything, I think that profile in the Wardens' files underestimates her," I said quietly. "She had barely anything to work with, and she was making Tessa and her crew look like pygmies trying to capture an elephant. If she hadn't been cut off so entirely, I think she'd have eaten them alive."
Luccio frowned, disturbed. "Truly?"
"You had to have seen it," I said. "I've never seen anyone…You had to have seen it."
"If she's that powerful," Michael said quietly, "can she be contained?"
"Oh, yes," I said. "Absolutely. But it would take a greater circle-heavy-duty ritual stuff in a prepared location. And it would have to be freaking flawless, or she could break it."
Molly screwed up her face in distress. "She won't…won't take one of the coins. Will she?" She glanced back and forth between Luccio and me and shrugged a little. "Because…it would be bad if she did."
I looked at Michael. "The Fallen can't just jump in and overwhelm someone, can they? Outright, nonconsensual possession?"
"Not normally," Michael replied. "There are circumstances that can change that, though. Mentally damaged people can be susceptible to it. Other things can open a spirit to possession. Drugs, involvement with dark rituals, extended, deliberate contact with spiritual entities. A few other things."
"Drugs," I said tiredly. "Jesus."
Michael winced.
"As would I," Luccio agreed.
"Is she really that dangerous?" Michael asked.
"Yes," Luccio said calmly. "The Council regards her as a significant power in her own right, on par with the youngest Queens of the Sidhe Courts."
"If anything, I think that profile in the Wardens' files underestimates her," I said quietly. "She had barely anything to work with, and she was making Tessa and her crew look like pygmies trying to capture an elephant. If she hadn't been cut off so entirely, I think she'd have eaten them alive."
Luccio frowned, disturbed. "Truly?"
"You had to have seen it," I said. "I've never seen anyone…You had to have seen it."
"If she's that powerful," Michael said quietly, "can she be contained?"
"Oh, yes," I said. "Absolutely. But it would take a greater circle-heavy-duty ritual stuff in a prepared location. And it would have to be freaking flawless, or she could break it."
Molly screwed up her face in distress. "She won't…won't take one of the coins. Will she?" She glanced back and forth between Luccio and me and shrugged a little. "Because…it would be bad if she did."
I looked at Michael. "The Fallen can't just jump in and overwhelm someone, can they? Outright, nonconsensual possession?"
"Not normally," Michael replied. "There are circumstances that can change that, though. Mentally damaged people can be susceptible to it. Other things can open a spirit to possession. Drugs, involvement with dark rituals, extended, deliberate contact with spiritual entities. A few other things."
"Drugs," I said tiredly. "Jesus."
Michael winced.
If she had access to more magic, she would have eaten them alive.
The only person in that bar that wouldnt die is Michael if he's carrying Amoracchius.
Otherwise, she'd murder everyone in this bar simultaneously.
Wouldnt even get her dress dirty.
- Location
- Germany
If I had to model Ivy (and to be clear, I didn't, no idea how DP is statting her), I'd make her a Mage, give her all the Spheres and count almost any spell in existence as a Rote with reduced DC due to familiarity for her.
But leave her Arete a medium level, which will only grow with time and practice.
So she has all the lore and skill, but without time to use rituals or tricks she's still limited in power as any normal Wizard.
Otherwise she's pretty much human. No extra soak or inhuman reflexes or healing-factor, otherwise her grandma wouldn't have died by accident.
But leave her Arete a medium level, which will only grow with time and practice.
So she has all the lore and skill, but without time to use rituals or tricks she's still limited in power as any normal Wizard.
Otherwise she's pretty much human. No extra soak or inhuman reflexes or healing-factor, otherwise her grandma wouldn't have died by accident.
Small Favor chapter 33
Tessa's eyes narrowed suddenly. "You know my name."
"I know everything about you, Lartessa," Ivy said, her tone flat, passionless. "It was all recorded, of course. Everything was, in Thessalonica in those days. Your father's failing business. Your sale to the temple of Isis. If you like, I could draw you a cost-benefit analysis of your training versus your earnings in your first year at the temple, before Nicodemus came. I could use charts to make it easier for you to understand. And color them in with crayons. I enjoy crayons."
I wasn't certain, but it sounded like the kid was trying to give the bad guys some guff on my behalf. She needed to work on her technique, but it was the thought that counted. If I could breathe, I might have gotten a little choked up.
"Do you think I'm intimidated that you know where I come from, child?" Tessa snarled.
"I know more about you than you do," Ivy replied, her voice steady. "I know far more precisely than you how many you've harmed. How many bad situations you've made worse. Cambodia, Colombia, and Rwanda most recently, but whether in this century, the Wars of the Roses or the Hundred Years' War, your story is the same stupid little story, told over and over again. You learned your lessons when you were a child, and you've never swerved from them. You're a vulture, Lartessa. A maggot. You survive on diseased flesh and rotting meat. Anything whole and healthy frightens you."
The little girl didn't see the Denarian that came creeping through the ferns behind her and flung itself at her back, several hundred pounds of scales and fangs.
"Ivy!" I choked out.
She had it covered. There was a flash of light, an overwhelming scent of ozone and fresh laundry, and a silver denarius rolled away from a mound of ash that fell to the ground without ever getting within three feet of the small form of the Archive. The coin rolled past her, on a straight line toward Tessa-but Ivy stomped on it with one small shoe, flattening it to the floor and preventing it from returning to Tessa's grasp.
"Tiny," I said, in an overblown imitation of Sanya's Russian accent, unable to keep a crazed giggle out of my voice. "But fierce."
Tessa regarded the fallen coin with a faint smile. "Costly. How many such spells do you think you can manage before you are out of energy, little one?"
Ivy shrugged. "How many minions can you throw away? How many will be willing to die for you?"
Tessa called out, "Around her, everyone. Make sure she knows where you are."
And nightmarish forms rose around the little girl, huge beside her single, slender little form. Deirdre, soaked and smelling of dead fish and seawater, gave me a sullen glare as she mounted the steps beside her mother. The shaggy-feathered thing that still held my hands bled quietly, keening under its breath. It was wounded, but it still kept my arms pinned. Magog came monkeying up over a bit of landscaping, grinning an evil grin, and I wondered where the hell Kincaid had wandered off to. The obsidian statue shifted its weight, keeping one hand resting on my chest-I had the feeling it could have shoved it right through to my spine if it wanted to.
There were half a dozen others. Rosanna proved to be a rather beautiful-looking woman, the classical demoness with scarlet skin and a goat's legs, complete with leathery black wings and delicately curling horns-though her deep brown eyes were haunted beneath the demonic green glowing set. She had a bag slung on a strap over her shoulder, just like Spinyboy-Tessa had called him Thorned Namshiel-had carried with him. Most of the others just looked big and mean, in various unsettling flavors.
I guess even in Hell, it's easier to find strong backs than strong brains.
Ivy faced them and lifted her arms into a pose that vaguely resembled a defensive martial arts stance. It wasn't. She was preparing to manipulate defensive energies. I just hadn't ever seen anyone getting ready to do two entirely separate spells in either hand at the same freaking time before.
Two questions occurred to me at that point. First, if the plan was for the Denarians to wear Ivy's magic down and then take her by main force before their trap ran out of power, why weren't they doing it already? And second…
What was that hissing sound?
It rose up around us, something I could just barely hear until I focused my senses on it, tuning out the musty reek and iron blood-scent of Shaggy Feathers and the cold solidity of Obsidian Statue's hand.
A definite, steady hissing sound, like air escaping from a tire or…
Or hair spray issuing forth from a can.
I lifted my head, twisting around enough to see through the crouched limbs of Shaggy Feathers, which seemed to be neither arms or legs, but something that served it as both, like the extremities of a spider. I couldn't see what it had my wrists pinned with, and I didn't want to. What I could see was a couple of leaves trembling on a nearby fern, and a gleam of metal from somewhere near the source of the mysterious hiss.
Gas.
The entire strength of this plan is predicated upon attacking the child, not the Archive.
Children have very low body mass, compared to adults.
A toxin dispersed in the air would be far more effective against Ivy than one of the Denarians-or even a grown person. All the bad guys had to do was pick something that caused unconsciousness and skewed heavily toward body mass, and they'd have an ideal weapon to use against her. Tessa and Nicodemus must have had several of their more capable lackeys carry in canisters of the stuff, whatever it was. Then all they had to do was open the cans and wait for her to fall.
My thoughts flashed back to Thorned Namshiel's spell, the one he'd been carrying out behind his concealing veil. A detail I'd barely noticed at the time suddenly leapt out at me. I'd been worried about what spell he was getting ready. I should have been paying attention to where he was getting ready to cast it-directly underneath a set of large vents. He'd probably been getting ready to set a wind spell in motion, to keep air pumping through the vents and spreading the gas through the Oceanarium.
Could I smell something sort of mediciney? Had the end of my nose gone numb? Hell's bells, Harry, this is no time either to panic or to suddenly pass out. I had to warn Ivy.
I turned my head back toward her and caught Tessa's gaze halfway. "Worked it out, did you?" Mantis Girl murmured. "If he speaks," she said, presumably to Obsidian Statue, "crush his chest."
A weirdly modulated voice issued from the general area of the androgynous statue's head. "Yes, mis-"
And then there was a whup and a slap of air pressure against my skin, and Statue's head-and Shaggy Feathers's too-exploded in simultaneous eruptions of distinctly different forms of gore. The statue went out like some kind of faulty street-paving machine, splattering black sludge that looked like hot asphalt everywhere in a steadily spurting stream. It flung itself onto its back, then bounded to its hands and knees and started hammering its fists at the concrete. I guess it intended to smash me. I guess without a head, it didn't know that it was actually six feet away, and digging a hole through the bleachers and into the material beneath.
Shaggy Feathers just fell in a welter of very human-looking, -smelling, and -tasting blood, and maybe three hundred pounds of limp, rubbery muscle landed on my chest.
"Ivy!" I screamed. "Gas! Get clear!"
And then things got noisy.
A series of cracking thumps came down faster than you could rapidly snap your fingers, and Denarians began to scream in pain and rage. I was vaguely aware of them bounding left and right, and saw a muzzle flash from the far side of the Oceanarium. At least I knew where Kincaid had been-getting into a position to kill both demon-taken madmen holding me down with a single freaking bullet, since anything less would have meant my certain death.
"He is nothing!" howled Tessa. "Tarsiel, take the Hellhound! Everyone else, the girl!"
Come on, Harry. Time to pay Kincaid back by getting the kid clear. Somehow. My right hand wasn't moving much, and my singed left arm didn't like it, but I heaved and strained and got enough of the dead Denarian off me to let me begin to squirm out from under it. Just as I was about to pull free, a silver coin rolled out from amidst the ruined tentacles that had passed for the thing's head and dropped toward my face. I jerked my head aside in a panic.
The falling coin missed touching my bare flesh by a hair and bounced off the concrete floor. My left hand moved, faster and smoother than I would have thought possible, snapping the coin from the air on the bounce as smoothly and nimbly as if it had been whole and healthy and not burned and scarred and covered in a leather glove.
I looked between it and my numb-tingling right hand for a quarter of a second.
What. The hell.
That was not normal.
Worry about it later, Harry. I mean, sure, obviously Something Has Happened to you, but now is not the time to get distracted. Focus. Save the girl.
I jammed the cursed relic in my pocket, hoped to God my 501s didn't have a hole in them, and spun toward Ivy.
I know I'm a wizard, a card-carrying member of the White Council and all. I know I'm a Warden, a certified combat expert of wizardkind, a cop, a soldier-have staff, will kick ass, if you will. I thought I'd seen some real professionals in action, the top of the wizarding game.
I was wrong.
It wasn't that Ivy was slinging around a ton of power. She wasn't. But think about this one for a moment: What's really more impressive? A giant truck rumbling around on a great big old smoking engine? Or a little car just barely big enough to get the job done that's powered by a couple of AA batteries?
Seven of them were going after Ivy with magic, and she was countering them. All of them.
Magog had charged her as he had me, but she hadn't slammed him to a stop with a brick wall. She'd trapped him inside some kind of frictionless bubble, and he was spinning uselessly in circles half an inch off the floor, every motion making him spin faster. Whatever additional metaphysical mass he'd brought to the fight hadn't cramped her style much. Her arms, bobbing and weaving continuously between all the workings she had up, flicked by the field containing him every few seconds and, I swear, struck his whirling snare for no reason other than to impart an additional, nausea-inducing vector to his spin.
Deirdre's tangle of living locks danced with purple Saint Elmo's fire, lashing out in a deadly webwork, but Ivy constantly cast out a spinning cat's cradle of light, tiny, tiny threads of power that did not so much stop any of Deirdre's attacks as they fouled any one of her locks with others near it, tangling them together into useless clumps-sort of an enforced bad-hair day. On the opposite side of Ivy, Rosanna launched more traditional lances of flame from her open palms, much like the ones I-
- a savage pain went through my skull for a second-son of a bitch-
- but Ivy dispersed them with delicately applied wedges of air, intercepting each burst of fire far enough short of her body to prevent the bloom of heat as they died from scorching her-though the two more physical Denarians who strained to force their way past the barrier of snapping sparks that formed whenever they tried to get close had far less luck. The Hellmaid's flames scorched them badly.
The sixth, a wizened little thing that looked like a caricature of a woman carved from a dried tree root, seemed to be holding the end of a rope of liquid shadow that curled like a hungry serpent, darting now and then toward Ivy's head. Ivy faced it down steadily, moving her head calmly in a dodge once, swatting it aside with a little burst of silver energy a second later.
But mostly she faced an amused-looking Tessa, who, apparently just for the fun of it, threw another thunderbolt at her now and again. That told me something right there. It told me Tessa was no punk sorceress. She was White Council material herself, if she could make that much flash and bang while expending that little energy. Either that or she'd been able to hold back one whale of a lot more power than I had when she took her deep breath before the battle. Either way she was a big-leaguer, and Ivy's response to the attack confirmed it. Each time the Archive turned to fully face Tessa, and each time she dedicated one of her hands entirely to the defensive measure used to stop the incoming spell.
Gulp.
Holy moly. It was one thing to have an academic appreciation that I still had a lot to learn about magic. It was another to see a demonstration of exactly how much I still couldn't do. In another circumstance it would be humbling. In this one it was freaking terrifying. For maybe ten seconds I stood there, trying to figure out how the hell to help without getting myself incinerated, skewered, or otherwise obliterated without accomplishing anything.
I felt a little surge of dizziness. The gas levels must be rising. Screw it. The only reason someone hadn't killed me already was because I was so impotent, at the moment, that nobody gave a damn what I did. I might be able to get the kid to another part of the building, out of the gas-and if someone killed me on the way, I could try to level my death curse on them, maybe get her out of this mess.
"I know everything about you, Lartessa," Ivy said, her tone flat, passionless. "It was all recorded, of course. Everything was, in Thessalonica in those days. Your father's failing business. Your sale to the temple of Isis. If you like, I could draw you a cost-benefit analysis of your training versus your earnings in your first year at the temple, before Nicodemus came. I could use charts to make it easier for you to understand. And color them in with crayons. I enjoy crayons."
I wasn't certain, but it sounded like the kid was trying to give the bad guys some guff on my behalf. She needed to work on her technique, but it was the thought that counted. If I could breathe, I might have gotten a little choked up.
"Do you think I'm intimidated that you know where I come from, child?" Tessa snarled.
"I know more about you than you do," Ivy replied, her voice steady. "I know far more precisely than you how many you've harmed. How many bad situations you've made worse. Cambodia, Colombia, and Rwanda most recently, but whether in this century, the Wars of the Roses or the Hundred Years' War, your story is the same stupid little story, told over and over again. You learned your lessons when you were a child, and you've never swerved from them. You're a vulture, Lartessa. A maggot. You survive on diseased flesh and rotting meat. Anything whole and healthy frightens you."
The little girl didn't see the Denarian that came creeping through the ferns behind her and flung itself at her back, several hundred pounds of scales and fangs.
"Ivy!" I choked out.
She had it covered. There was a flash of light, an overwhelming scent of ozone and fresh laundry, and a silver denarius rolled away from a mound of ash that fell to the ground without ever getting within three feet of the small form of the Archive. The coin rolled past her, on a straight line toward Tessa-but Ivy stomped on it with one small shoe, flattening it to the floor and preventing it from returning to Tessa's grasp.
"Tiny," I said, in an overblown imitation of Sanya's Russian accent, unable to keep a crazed giggle out of my voice. "But fierce."
Tessa regarded the fallen coin with a faint smile. "Costly. How many such spells do you think you can manage before you are out of energy, little one?"
Ivy shrugged. "How many minions can you throw away? How many will be willing to die for you?"
Tessa called out, "Around her, everyone. Make sure she knows where you are."
And nightmarish forms rose around the little girl, huge beside her single, slender little form. Deirdre, soaked and smelling of dead fish and seawater, gave me a sullen glare as she mounted the steps beside her mother. The shaggy-feathered thing that still held my hands bled quietly, keening under its breath. It was wounded, but it still kept my arms pinned. Magog came monkeying up over a bit of landscaping, grinning an evil grin, and I wondered where the hell Kincaid had wandered off to. The obsidian statue shifted its weight, keeping one hand resting on my chest-I had the feeling it could have shoved it right through to my spine if it wanted to.
There were half a dozen others. Rosanna proved to be a rather beautiful-looking woman, the classical demoness with scarlet skin and a goat's legs, complete with leathery black wings and delicately curling horns-though her deep brown eyes were haunted beneath the demonic green glowing set. She had a bag slung on a strap over her shoulder, just like Spinyboy-Tessa had called him Thorned Namshiel-had carried with him. Most of the others just looked big and mean, in various unsettling flavors.
I guess even in Hell, it's easier to find strong backs than strong brains.
Ivy faced them and lifted her arms into a pose that vaguely resembled a defensive martial arts stance. It wasn't. She was preparing to manipulate defensive energies. I just hadn't ever seen anyone getting ready to do two entirely separate spells in either hand at the same freaking time before.
Two questions occurred to me at that point. First, if the plan was for the Denarians to wear Ivy's magic down and then take her by main force before their trap ran out of power, why weren't they doing it already? And second…
What was that hissing sound?
It rose up around us, something I could just barely hear until I focused my senses on it, tuning out the musty reek and iron blood-scent of Shaggy Feathers and the cold solidity of Obsidian Statue's hand.
A definite, steady hissing sound, like air escaping from a tire or…
Or hair spray issuing forth from a can.
I lifted my head, twisting around enough to see through the crouched limbs of Shaggy Feathers, which seemed to be neither arms or legs, but something that served it as both, like the extremities of a spider. I couldn't see what it had my wrists pinned with, and I didn't want to. What I could see was a couple of leaves trembling on a nearby fern, and a gleam of metal from somewhere near the source of the mysterious hiss.
Gas.
The entire strength of this plan is predicated upon attacking the child, not the Archive.
Children have very low body mass, compared to adults.
A toxin dispersed in the air would be far more effective against Ivy than one of the Denarians-or even a grown person. All the bad guys had to do was pick something that caused unconsciousness and skewed heavily toward body mass, and they'd have an ideal weapon to use against her. Tessa and Nicodemus must have had several of their more capable lackeys carry in canisters of the stuff, whatever it was. Then all they had to do was open the cans and wait for her to fall.
My thoughts flashed back to Thorned Namshiel's spell, the one he'd been carrying out behind his concealing veil. A detail I'd barely noticed at the time suddenly leapt out at me. I'd been worried about what spell he was getting ready. I should have been paying attention to where he was getting ready to cast it-directly underneath a set of large vents. He'd probably been getting ready to set a wind spell in motion, to keep air pumping through the vents and spreading the gas through the Oceanarium.
Could I smell something sort of mediciney? Had the end of my nose gone numb? Hell's bells, Harry, this is no time either to panic or to suddenly pass out. I had to warn Ivy.
I turned my head back toward her and caught Tessa's gaze halfway. "Worked it out, did you?" Mantis Girl murmured. "If he speaks," she said, presumably to Obsidian Statue, "crush his chest."
A weirdly modulated voice issued from the general area of the androgynous statue's head. "Yes, mis-"
And then there was a whup and a slap of air pressure against my skin, and Statue's head-and Shaggy Feathers's too-exploded in simultaneous eruptions of distinctly different forms of gore. The statue went out like some kind of faulty street-paving machine, splattering black sludge that looked like hot asphalt everywhere in a steadily spurting stream. It flung itself onto its back, then bounded to its hands and knees and started hammering its fists at the concrete. I guess it intended to smash me. I guess without a head, it didn't know that it was actually six feet away, and digging a hole through the bleachers and into the material beneath.
Shaggy Feathers just fell in a welter of very human-looking, -smelling, and -tasting blood, and maybe three hundred pounds of limp, rubbery muscle landed on my chest.
"Ivy!" I screamed. "Gas! Get clear!"
And then things got noisy.
A series of cracking thumps came down faster than you could rapidly snap your fingers, and Denarians began to scream in pain and rage. I was vaguely aware of them bounding left and right, and saw a muzzle flash from the far side of the Oceanarium. At least I knew where Kincaid had been-getting into a position to kill both demon-taken madmen holding me down with a single freaking bullet, since anything less would have meant my certain death.
"He is nothing!" howled Tessa. "Tarsiel, take the Hellhound! Everyone else, the girl!"
Come on, Harry. Time to pay Kincaid back by getting the kid clear. Somehow. My right hand wasn't moving much, and my singed left arm didn't like it, but I heaved and strained and got enough of the dead Denarian off me to let me begin to squirm out from under it. Just as I was about to pull free, a silver coin rolled out from amidst the ruined tentacles that had passed for the thing's head and dropped toward my face. I jerked my head aside in a panic.
The falling coin missed touching my bare flesh by a hair and bounced off the concrete floor. My left hand moved, faster and smoother than I would have thought possible, snapping the coin from the air on the bounce as smoothly and nimbly as if it had been whole and healthy and not burned and scarred and covered in a leather glove.
I looked between it and my numb-tingling right hand for a quarter of a second.
What. The hell.
That was not normal.
Worry about it later, Harry. I mean, sure, obviously Something Has Happened to you, but now is not the time to get distracted. Focus. Save the girl.
I jammed the cursed relic in my pocket, hoped to God my 501s didn't have a hole in them, and spun toward Ivy.
I know I'm a wizard, a card-carrying member of the White Council and all. I know I'm a Warden, a certified combat expert of wizardkind, a cop, a soldier-have staff, will kick ass, if you will. I thought I'd seen some real professionals in action, the top of the wizarding game.
I was wrong.
It wasn't that Ivy was slinging around a ton of power. She wasn't. But think about this one for a moment: What's really more impressive? A giant truck rumbling around on a great big old smoking engine? Or a little car just barely big enough to get the job done that's powered by a couple of AA batteries?
Seven of them were going after Ivy with magic, and she was countering them. All of them.
Magog had charged her as he had me, but she hadn't slammed him to a stop with a brick wall. She'd trapped him inside some kind of frictionless bubble, and he was spinning uselessly in circles half an inch off the floor, every motion making him spin faster. Whatever additional metaphysical mass he'd brought to the fight hadn't cramped her style much. Her arms, bobbing and weaving continuously between all the workings she had up, flicked by the field containing him every few seconds and, I swear, struck his whirling snare for no reason other than to impart an additional, nausea-inducing vector to his spin.
Deirdre's tangle of living locks danced with purple Saint Elmo's fire, lashing out in a deadly webwork, but Ivy constantly cast out a spinning cat's cradle of light, tiny, tiny threads of power that did not so much stop any of Deirdre's attacks as they fouled any one of her locks with others near it, tangling them together into useless clumps-sort of an enforced bad-hair day. On the opposite side of Ivy, Rosanna launched more traditional lances of flame from her open palms, much like the ones I-
- a savage pain went through my skull for a second-son of a bitch-
- but Ivy dispersed them with delicately applied wedges of air, intercepting each burst of fire far enough short of her body to prevent the bloom of heat as they died from scorching her-though the two more physical Denarians who strained to force their way past the barrier of snapping sparks that formed whenever they tried to get close had far less luck. The Hellmaid's flames scorched them badly.
The sixth, a wizened little thing that looked like a caricature of a woman carved from a dried tree root, seemed to be holding the end of a rope of liquid shadow that curled like a hungry serpent, darting now and then toward Ivy's head. Ivy faced it down steadily, moving her head calmly in a dodge once, swatting it aside with a little burst of silver energy a second later.
But mostly she faced an amused-looking Tessa, who, apparently just for the fun of it, threw another thunderbolt at her now and again. That told me something right there. It told me Tessa was no punk sorceress. She was White Council material herself, if she could make that much flash and bang while expending that little energy. Either that or she'd been able to hold back one whale of a lot more power than I had when she took her deep breath before the battle. Either way she was a big-leaguer, and Ivy's response to the attack confirmed it. Each time the Archive turned to fully face Tessa, and each time she dedicated one of her hands entirely to the defensive measure used to stop the incoming spell.
Gulp.
Holy moly. It was one thing to have an academic appreciation that I still had a lot to learn about magic. It was another to see a demonstration of exactly how much I still couldn't do. In another circumstance it would be humbling. In this one it was freaking terrifying. For maybe ten seconds I stood there, trying to figure out how the hell to help without getting myself incinerated, skewered, or otherwise obliterated without accomplishing anything.
I felt a little surge of dizziness. The gas levels must be rising. Screw it. The only reason someone hadn't killed me already was because I was so impotent, at the moment, that nobody gave a damn what I did. I might be able to get the kid to another part of the building, out of the gas-and if someone killed me on the way, I could try to level my death curse on them, maybe get her out of this mess.
Ivy's goddamn terrifying.
Last edited:
So, completely stupid question:
@DragonParadox does this mean that Blackstaff in its basic functionality is a 1 dot splendor? Or, in other words, does "perfect immunity to twisting of the mind by supernatural forces" include protection from corruption created by breaking the Laws?
Cassiemouse
Market Atheist
[X] Yes, you want to know whatever she can tell you about yourself and your Exaltation. You'll make her a talisman to resist her Mantle today
Two dot version is fine for what she wants right now and she can get you a Black Court vampire elder's skull for it as long as you do not mind the silver spike that's still lodged though it to keep it from rolling in the direction of fresh blood and snapping.
No, Black Magic is not something that is done to you, it is something you do to yourself. FSB can deal with it but that has a timer.
The Library Splendor would be redundant for her sadly
Last edited:
- Location
- washington
Let's be honest the answer we get from the cards won't be anywhere near complete it'll be a few paragraphs long and likely confusing.
- Location
- washington
I think the interpretation that power levels means anything else than what it says is a bit delusional. But it's not like it matters for this quest though don't know why you brought up what happens in this quest when the topic was related to the multiverse which is non canon here and dp makes shit up. But anyways meh we might never know and if we do know we probably won't know until apocalyptic trio.
BoredMan
Maintaining the Agenda is our top priority
I was aware, though I had forgotten the details so the quotes were informative. It's not possible to argue it as is, I think Molly's best combat feat so far was soloing a Walker without popping Shintia.
I still believe she wouldn't get punked though, because of exellencies and the variable of bringing a specific part of Molly's world here when Shintia comes out.
Yes and no? Moral standards have changed, but they weren't exactly the point in the first place. The things you were supposed to admire weren't related to them being good people.
Take the 12 labors of Hercules; he was basically doing community service for killing his wife and children. Sure Hera drove him crazy first, but as far as they were concerned culturally that wasn't an excuse. If he wanted to clean the blood off his hands he had to perform penance as set by the oracle at Delphi.
Hercules did that stuff a lot, even when he didn't have a god poking him. A significant number of his stories are about him getting into trouble breaking social mores. You could argue those were morality lessons, but they his repeated issues don't detract from how he's portrayed overall.
This is pretty well trod ground, see Wikipedia:
Even within their own context they're supposed to be admired for their ability before anything else. I mean sure, courage and the like are virtues but they weren't the only ones of the day.
This is getting a touch far afield here though. Either way the point stands that exalts fit in the classical hero box as defined in classical literature analysis; glory and power without the moral concerns of say superman attached to it.
To be fair, the Archive was set up as a weapon for a very serious war against people with serious mind bending abilities. This sounds a lot like that charm that lets infernals bake rules into their souls that they can't be forced to break.
The people who made it also apparently set it up so that it could be handed off to a relative when you didn't want the job anymore, and didn't intend for it to be forced on a child. A confluence of tragedy just screwed her over.
I'm not say we should definitely leave it alone, but given how much effort was put into this system I think it makes sense to check what exactly is happening and why before changing things.
1) Thats misleading.
Dresden avoided the Carpenter home and Michael after picking up Lasciel's coin, so he had no opportunity to interact with Molly after she Awakened, not until Proven Guilty. Michael only gets that kind of warning when its applicable to his job.
2)Molly is an Infernal, hence her shit stands out.
If she'd been a Solar, or a Lunar or Sidereal, short of Heaven mysterious waysing things or Dresden using the Sight, neither he nor Michael would know unless they saw her actively wield mojo.
If she'd bought Anima Control 5 at chargen instead of Brigids Heir as a Merit, neither of them would know either.
Like Ive previously pointed out, there are gods in Chicago that Dresden didnt notice for years.
That Michael has never noticed.
Stuff like naagloshii are actively disruptive enough to be noticed. Many others arent.
3) That is not true.
The Wyld Hunt was established by the Sidereal Order after the Usurpation, and supported by first the Shogunate, and then the Dragonblood Empire on Creation and the infrastructure of Yu-Shan in Heaven.
The best of First Age artifice that survived the Usurpation was at their disposal.
Sidereals with access to the Loom of Fate ran interference and support as necessary, and there were literal elder Sidereals and First Age magitech from the arsenals of Heaven if the hammer needed to be dropped, as well as entire national armies.
And even then, keeping track of the handful of Solar shards that werent captured in the Usurpation was still a fulltime job that required significant ongoing investment. Nevermind the Lunars.
None of that exists here.
You'll be trying to set it up from scratch, with vastly inferior resources. Against Exalts.
I am skeptical about it even getting off the ground.
1)Respectfully, Im not seeing it.
A depowered Uriel, in a situation where he voluntarily depowered himself and took a seat on the sidelines for the duration of the plotline? Is not the same thing as a normally-powered Nemesis going about his normal business of murder and infiltration.
2)There is supposed to be a limit on how many people Nemesis can possess simultaneously; I cant find the citation off the top of my head, and I dont have the time to go looking right now.
But thats it. As far as I know, there's no price for possessing people.
And according to Cold Days, sneaking into Creation in the bodies of people is something a lot of Outsiders can do anyway.
Which is why the Gatekeeper is supposed to be present to look over medevac cases.
There is no textual evidence or Word of God saying that Nemesis, or any other Walker, is depowered inside Creation that Im aware of. Or that Creation is unable to support his form of existence.
Hopefully, we dont have to find out.
But right now, at Essence 3, in a sudden fight, Id put money on her murdering Molly in the first ten seconds.
I have that much respect for the bullshit of someone who walked onto the battlefield of Battle Grounds wearing an ordinary school uniform and suffered nothing worse than a broken nose from getting nailed by a Titan with a projectile.
[X] No
-[X] Take some more time to study this before taking it head on (Advise that she try to learn more about said limits and why they might be there)
And I maintain you are actively misreading the quote along with deliberately ignoring what the quotation signifies, along with ignoring the clear statement given.
First, Butcher states that the reasoning for why HHWB is able to do the stuff he does is because of him being on the power level similar to Uriel, while simultaneously giving an explanation for WHY the power it is used the way it is. Which is that they operate on different rules and mechanisms that what reality operates on. Furthermore Butcher stating that HHWB is of similar level to Uriel means he is off similar magnitude to Uriel. Not "no i actually mean he is an actual ant to Uriel compared to the microbe that is Mab" nonsense. If Butcher did not want them to be compared to Uriel in power, he would not have used those words when he knows how powerful Uriel is supposed to be through his generous description. Unless you wish to argue with the author on this one.
Secondly, why would Titania, Mother or Morgan mention this when the information is not exactly relevant unless somehow the shackles binding the Outsiders vanishes. Furthermore Sharkface being a fragment does not mean they are only using a fragment of his power, as the fragment may only have access to power which they possess. Such as for example Lash, who is supposed to be a copy of Lasciel but in smaller scale to keep seduce hosts to take her coin by being able to actively interact with them while Lasciel in the coin cannot. Therefore making it a difficult proposition for Dresden to figure this detail out since it is not exactly obvious this is happening unless you think on it. Which knowing Dresden, he did not and ignored it.
Third, why precisely can they not do that? Uriel and other entities of similar scale can do that, since they are both able to operate in multiple realities simultaneously along with entering the reality which Earth is contained without the fabric of reality from sundering. Which is precisely how they are able to enter reality for long periods without incurring immediately consequences of far greater magnitude than Mother Winter and Summer along with Ferroxax in terms of reality shaking . An example of both existing in many places are below here.
Uriel is present across the multiverse simultaneously who are all the same despite existing from each other. Fragments of himself exist across the multiverse, each which are appropriately sized for the task. Lash is also a minuscule fragment of Lasciel who existed in Dresden, indicating they do not need to be perfectly scaled in size, power, capability nor knowledge. Therefore since entities such as the angels are able to do this, and Outsiders which are considered peers to the angels due to the fact if they were not both the statement given by Butcher would not make sense and the fact they exist as a threat at all in canon despite being opposed by Angels and Fallen, leads to the conclusion as previously stated. Since there is otherwise no logical reasoning for why angels can enter the realm of reality while entities such as Mother Winter cannot due to their presence placing immense strain on reality.
-[X] Take some more time to study this before taking it head on (Advise that she try to learn more about said limits and why they might be there)
And I maintain you are actively misreading the quote along with deliberately ignoring what the quotation signifies, along with ignoring the clear statement given.
First, Butcher states that the reasoning for why HHWB is able to do the stuff he does is because of him being on the power level similar to Uriel, while simultaneously giving an explanation for WHY the power it is used the way it is. Which is that they operate on different rules and mechanisms that what reality operates on. Furthermore Butcher stating that HHWB is of similar level to Uriel means he is off similar magnitude to Uriel. Not "no i actually mean he is an actual ant to Uriel compared to the microbe that is Mab" nonsense. If Butcher did not want them to be compared to Uriel in power, he would not have used those words when he knows how powerful Uriel is supposed to be through his generous description. Unless you wish to argue with the author on this one.
Secondly, why would Titania, Mother or Morgan mention this when the information is not exactly relevant unless somehow the shackles binding the Outsiders vanishes. Furthermore Sharkface being a fragment does not mean they are only using a fragment of his power, as the fragment may only have access to power which they possess. Such as for example Lash, who is supposed to be a copy of Lasciel but in smaller scale to keep seduce hosts to take her coin by being able to actively interact with them while Lasciel in the coin cannot. Therefore making it a difficult proposition for Dresden to figure this detail out since it is not exactly obvious this is happening unless you think on it. Which knowing Dresden, he did not and ignored it.
Third, why precisely can they not do that? Uriel and other entities of similar scale can do that, since they are both able to operate in multiple realities simultaneously along with entering the reality which Earth is contained without the fabric of reality from sundering. Which is precisely how they are able to enter reality for long periods without incurring immediately consequences of far greater magnitude than Mother Winter and Summer along with Ferroxax in terms of reality shaking . An example of both existing in many places are below here.
Uriel is present across the multiverse simultaneously who are all the same despite existing from each other. Fragments of himself exist across the multiverse, each which are appropriately sized for the task. Lash is also a minuscule fragment of Lasciel who existed in Dresden, indicating they do not need to be perfectly scaled in size, power, capability nor knowledge. Therefore since entities such as the angels are able to do this, and Outsiders which are considered peers to the angels due to the fact if they were not both the statement given by Butcher would not make sense and the fact they exist as a threat at all in canon despite being opposed by Angels and Fallen, leads to the conclusion as previously stated. Since there is otherwise no logical reasoning for why angels can enter the realm of reality while entities such as Mother Winter cannot due to their presence placing immense strain on reality.
Last edited: