Conference of Cards
A voice cut through the silence, then, like a red-hot knife.
"I don't believe that'll be necessary."
All of them turned to see as a vicar or priest approached, or a man in a priest's clothes, at least. He did bother wearing a mask, but it was a small thing of modest white cloth and plastic covering only his upper face, revealing short-cut brown hair. It barely did anything to actually conceal his identity, showing off the curves of his smooth, well-shaven face. If they met out on the street and he wore the same robes, Zane was sure he'd be able to recognize him or pick him out of a large crowd.
He flashed a Godcard at the woman like an FBI agent flashing his ID, prompting her to sneer, and briefly showed it to them as a result, too.
Constantine, the Thirteenth Apostle
Godcard, Series A41/P120
Emperor, Greatness, Faith, Benevolence, Holiness, Forgiveness, Virtue, Change
Exalted Compatibility [NaN%]
Power Level [4]
"Uh," Brick uttered dumbly, "That's some odd numbers."
The priest only smiled at them mysteriously and winked, as he pocketed the Godcard once more, before telling the woman, "Now, from what I recall, the Sun Duo has a single Godcard between them. If taken as a precedent, this'd mean the Knights here are even more qualified for entry, as instead of being half-Cardless, they are only one-third."
She glared at him, sipping her beer. "They can't enter. Them's the rules."
"Alright. I can give them one of my spares." He shrugged with deep neutrality. "It's all the same to me."
She grit her teeth and clutched the bottle slightly tighter in her fist as if preparing to use it as a throwable weapon. He responded by staring at her, deeply, deeply unimpressed with her unspoken choice.
"Satan has so filled your heart that you have lied to the Holy Spirit," he explained. Suddenly, the woman stumbled, as if punched or slapped, or in the midst of an earthquake. All of the Black Knights observed the unfolding events with growing surprise. "You have not lied to men, but to God. Acts of the Apostles, chapter five, verses three and four. And by Exodus, chapter twenty, verse sixteen, thou shalt not bear false witness. And I can see you aren't happy to see me. But according to the Book of Proverbs, chapter seventeen, verse twenty-two, a cheerful heart is good medicine. So I will forgive your lie, Ms. Maenad, and walk in the light of Christ."
As soon as he was done, the priest - Constantine, Zane supposed - smiled brightly, as if he'd won a battle without spilling a drop of blood.
By the end of his speech, the Maenad was holding a shaking hand to her chest, hyperventilating, sweating. She'd almost dropped her bottle to the floor. "T-They can go in. Just stop. Please. No more."
"Come," the priest gestured, opening the door and stepping inside. None of the three waited to be prompted again and went in after him.
Rather than emerging into an open bar, instead, they stepped into something like a foyer or entryway, with a number of coat racks, a few dusty cupboards, and a hallway with doors to one side. There was audible music playing from the left side, opposite of the hallway, where the actual bar seemed to be.
There were a few Maenads scattered about, looking almost identical to the one at the front door; one of them was standing in front of the hallway entrance and snorting a line of white powder off the top of her hand. She looked up at them as they entered, fixed up her hair a little, then kept snorting.
"What was that?" Zane was the first to question Constantine.
The priest half-turned in order to address them, slowing down his walk. As they stopped in front of the interior door, he said, "The Epistle of Paul to the Colossians, chapter one, verse sixteen: for by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities - all things were created through him and for him. She - the bouncer - is a Maenad. One of the priestesses of sin and revelry out of Greek mythology, who worship Dionysus. However, she is, as is everything, made by God, and therefore has a conscience. I simply needed to remind her of its existence."
None of them had much of a retort. As far as they knew, everything he said was the truth - until a few nights ago, none of them were even aware something like a Maenad can exist. And if a Maenad can exist, and the Mangler, then why not the omnipotent God of the Bible?
"Anyway," the priest digressed, clearing his throat a little. He extended a hand and shook all of theirs in turn while introducing himself, "My name is Father Nicholas Martin, bearer of the Godcard Constantine - call me by whichever name you prefer. I also happen to be a priest and I also happen to be the chairman of the Manhattan Wardens, an organized group of Cardbearers who unofficially cooperate with the NYPD in order to stop and prevent criminal activity."
As the only de facto knight in their small organization, Spike took it upon himself to act as their frontman. "As you already know, we're the Black Knights. At least, that's what the newspapers call us. I am Phobos, and these are Bee and Zee."
"A pleasure to meet you," Father Nicholas said, nodding to both of them. "Before we step indoors, I should warn you that you've made plenty of enemies, here. Although we're on neutral ground, and fighting or magical manipulation of any kind isn't permitted, I'd still be on your guard."
After replying in the affirmative, Father Nicholas led them into the unnamed bar.
As far as drinking bars went, it was almost stereotypical, save for the inclusion of food in its menu and no prices - everything was, seemingly, free. All of the floors were dark mahogany, there were little to no windows, there was an 80s style jukebox with neon party lighting. Around to the left side, there was a long counter with numerous stools, that curved in at the end, with a teenage boy in a white dress shirt as the bartender and a Maenad dressed in a French maid's uniform delivering drinks and food to various tables and booths on silver trays.
The space was filled with people sitting about either individually in front of the counter, or in groups at the booths and tables; a few of them walking around and exchanging polite conversation. Almost everyone wore a mask or face-concealing helmet, and a majority of those also wore a costume.
As soon as they stepped in, Zane noticed Mephistopheles. He was sitting in a private corner booth, exchanging conversation with a man in obsidian-dark armor; Zane recognized the latter as well from the news. He was the Firestarter, an infamous pyromaniac the NYPD was attempting to catch. Around Mephistopheles, there was a posse of several people, most of them glaring at the Black Knights as they entered: a man in heavy, articulated bronze armor, with a khopesh sword sheathed at his hip; a girl in a scarecrow's outfit with her lips and eyelids sewn together, and a man whose entire body was covered in verdant tortoise-shells which reflected the light.
A few groups stood out to Zane. Father Nicholas named them for the benefit of the Knights.
There were the Manhattan Wardens, seated together near the right side of the room.
Aside from Father Nicholas, they consisted of a young man, dressed in a mess of steel armor on top of an ordinary hoodie and jeans. There was a quiver of arrows tied to his back with a simple leather strap, a bow resting around his shoulder, and a chain leash that he was holding onto so tightly his knuckles seemed white. His leash wrapped around the neck of an unnaturally large bloodhound resting by their table, covered in mottled black-red fur. If the creature had stood up, it would have been large enough to be ridden easily like a horse.
Seated next to him was a teenage girl wearing a black hoodie and a plain white plastic mask covering her entire face. As soon as he looked at her, Zane caught her looking back. Rather than either of them looking away, they both analyzed each other briefly and refused to look away, until the girl turned minimally to address the person sitting opposite of her - a college-aged girl with short red hair and an iron mask that resembled a grinning face. At that, the redhead looked at them and noticed that Father Nicholas was with them. She said something that prompted the entire group to turn and look.
Also with them was a girl in a yellow sundress, a carved wooden mask with round openings for the eyes, and a crown of flowers that Zane found beautiful. She was gently holding onto the shoulder of an old woman, using a pair of knitting sticks in order to work a length of red yarn into what seemed to be a scarf.
Next, Father Nicholas directed them to look over at the 'Police Faction.'
Apparently, while everyone knew they were police officers, they refused to acknowledge or confirm any such claims, instead insisting they were private citizens when asked. There seemed to be three of them - far less than in the Manhattan Wardens.
Their leader seemed to be an old man with graying hair in a long blue cloak, sipping on a steaming-hot Cappuccino without a care in the world, treating the meeting as casually as Tuesday, while his subordinates were clearly ill at ease. His face was covered by a stylized Anubis mask, which allowed Zane to guess what his Godcard was. On the other side of him, there was a man in a similar style of dress with a black cane, wearing a stylized mask of a handsome, gold-skinned man. Finally, there was a woman in an equally stylized Chinese dragon mask, and long tattoos covering her revealed forearms, which seemed to dance on her skin as if animated.
Next up was the McNessa Mafia family. At once, Zane recognized the glaring, bruised Zuchezzi brothers seated at the back. Unlike with the other factions, there were so many of them - at least fifteen - that Zane found it a rather difficult task to particularly focus on any of them as having exceptional features. However, he was able to tell apart their leaders from the way the others seemed to move and glance at them every few seconds - their leaders were a man and a woman, maybe husband and wife.
The former was decked out in heavy dark armor with a horned helmet that concealed his entire face in supernatural darkness, wielding a long-spear with runic carvings. Although his face wasn't visible, there was a flaming blue dot on the left side of his head, where the eye should have been.
Next to him, the woman seemed to be almost unnaturally ordinary, if beautiful. She came to the meeting in a simple black dress that showed off her alluring hourglass figure, done up her hair into a ponytail, and wore a carnival mask for concealment of her face. She also happened to be drinking whiskey or brandy.
Among the independents, there were a few more interesting faces. One of them was the Sun Wukong Duo that the priest had mentioned outside in brief; a man and woman color-coded in blue and red outfits respectively, with outrageous hairstyles and tinted visors, who allegedly stole from the rich and gave to the homeless. There was Nemesis, a blonde Russian woman dressed in a form-fitting leather outfit and wielding a bullwhip as her weapon of choice. There was a girl in a hoodie and thick jacket looking around and measuring the room, face concealed under a simple full-face motorcycle helmet not dissimilar to those of the Black Knights.
After he was done naming the various assorted groups and individuals worth knowing, Father Nicholas excused himself and went to speak with his team.
At the same time, the Black Knights were approached by a man in an elegant suit with a feathered tophat bearing a white cross and facial paint that made him look almost like a skeleton. There was a cane in his left hand, a cigar in his right.
"Hello, I'm Baron Samedi, and I'm immortal," he said, giving Spike a business card pressed between his cigar-hand's fingers. Its contents proclaimed him to be, as he'd said, immortal, capable of resurrecting no matter how grievous the injury dealt to him. "I specialize in object retrieval. If you need someone to wander right down the path of suicidal mania for you, I'm the guy."
After that, a few more independents approached them - and immediately, the Black Knights learned that while dollars were an acceptable currency in here, an acceptable alternative was favors, which most people here would accept if money wasn't on your side.
There was a boy wielding the Muses, who claimed he was able to analyze any writing with masterful and supernatural detail and effortlessly create works of art to inspire the heart; a woman who bore Hephaestus and said she'd forge supernatural armor, gadgets, tools, and weapons for a modest fee or a favor returned in the future.
As the conference proper was about to begin, the Knights were finally approached by a shirtless man in plain jeans and sandals with abs of tough, carven muscle and a smirk on his face. He was blonde, wearing no mask or helmet save a pair of Aviator sunglasses.
"Hey there, I'm Johnny Buddha," he introduced himself.
"Hello," Spike greeted in modest confusion.
"Listen, I've heard you guys have a gang problem, so here's my deal - I'll protect you three. I offer absolute protection from the gangs."
"Right," Zane answered skeptically. "And what do you want in return?"
"It's pretty simple. I'm on a crusade against the Mangler, ya see. He killed someone important to me. And once I track him down and pummel him, I'll need as many hands on deck as possible. So basically, in the far, distant future, I want you to join me to kick the wolf's ass. I'm too weak for now, though. I'll probably tackle it in a year or so. What do you say? It's a pretty good deal, right? You can grow and train unimpeded and in return, grow strong enough to fight the bastard with me. There's already a few people who agreed to do it for free."
"Really? Who?" Brick asked, stupefied.
"The Firestarter, for one," Johnny said, with a grin, leaning in. "I won't let him take the pup's card, don't worry. Also a few of the Wardens."
---
At the moment, you have
12 Ambrosia.
Although the Conference of Cards hasn't officially started (apparently, when it starts, a few people will bring up some topics of importance to everyone's attention and then there'll be an inter-group discussion on what to do, full of typical politicking,) there are already some choices that you can make.
For all of the options below, please assemble a plan.
Firstly, is there any faction you'd like to speak with?
[ ] Remain Alone
[ ] Speak: Police Faction
-[ ] Ask For Help - It's their job to protect the citizens of New York from crime, right?
-[ ] Ask To Join - Although you're not police officers, maybe they won't refuse? It'd be kind of awkward, though.
-[ ] Write-in.
[ ] Speak: Manhattan Wardens
-[ ] Ask For Help - They might agree to parley with the gangs on your behalf, or offer you protection from them. However, the Wardens are hardly immortal or untouchable themselves, so this will require a lot of persuasion or begging on your part.
-[ ] Ask To Join - It might require some persuasion as above since you come with a lot of baggage, but it'd also mean you're ensured protection. In return, Father Nicholas might expect you to make a few reprisals of your showing at the docks, but from what you've gathered, the Wardens aren't really superheroes in the classical sense; you won't have to pull any patrol shifts if you don't want to. However, the rest of the group might expect you to help them out with some different tasks when necessary.
-[ ] Return Favor - Although Father Nicholas will likely insist that you don't owe him anything.
-[ ] Write-in.
[ ] Speak: Old Gravesend Demons
-[ ] Ask For Help - Err?
-[ ] Ask To Join - Huh?
-[ ] Ask For Forgiveness - Unlikely to work. Maybe if you hand over your Godcards?
-[ ] Write-in.
[ ] Speak: McNessa Mafia Family
-[ ] Ask For Help - Are you nuts?
-[ ] Ask To Join - You're nuts, aren't you.
-[ ] Ask For Forgiveness - Unlikely to work. Maybe if you hand over your Godcards and let the Zuchezzis beat you in a dark alleyway?
-[ ] Write-in.
Secondly, are there any services from other Cardbearers you'd like to purchase? Altogether, your current funds (for all of the Black Knights,) are in the area of $5,000, but you could scrounge together another $2,500 on fairly short notice if needed, and about $5,000 with a lot of effort.
[ ] None
[ ] Acquire Services
-[ ] Hephaestus - A weapon, armor, tool, gadget. Can be of supernatural quality; quality impacts price. Standard price: $3,500 per piece, or one favor to be returned later.
-[ ] Boy of Muses - Analyzing a piece of writing - can tell you who wrote it, when, under what conditions, if anyone edited it, and who it was, can even be used on print. Can also make a piece of art (music, painting, writing, etc,) that is of supernal quality. Low prices (below $500.)
-[ ] Baron Samedi - Hire an immortal willing to do anything that's dangerous for you, such as going into an irradiated zone to retrieve an item. Asking price is $1,000, but can range upwards depending on the type of threat. Also willing to exchange favors instead.
-[ ] The Narrator - A mild reality bender, capable of enhancing or disrupting actions via his oratory description. He's willing to, essentially, follow you around and narrate your actions for eight hours, providing a sizeable bonus. Standard prices: $5,000, or two favors.
-[ ] The Noodle Man - A man with a noodly countenance. He sells instant ramen that he claims to have restorative and healing properties. The price is $100 per cup of ramen, or if you buy a twenty-pack, a favor is acceptable as a substitute.
-[ ] Lunar Healer - Although you don't presently require it, there's a girl who offers to heal any kind of disease or injury - even permanent ones. Her powers are strongest near the full moon. She can even reverse aging, to a degree, or so she says. Standard price: $1,000 for a one-hour session (which should cure cancer perfectly.)
-[ ] Johnny Buddha - Offers you "absolute" protection from the gangs, or so he claims. Everyone present seems to scoff at him, so his words seem dubious. Asking price: Join a crusade of vengeance against the Mangler in the far, indeterminate future.
