Remember that bit about 'old weak king' in canon, that bit was true... as far as it went. You guys altered equation when you agreed to take out the trash for Lara in your full hellish majesty in a way that implies she has significant influence over you.
Green Flame Rising (Exalted vs Dresden Files)
- Thread starter DragonParadox
- Start date
- Crossover Fantasy
- Location
- washington
as long as the blood flows I care for not which cause we serve! delenda est whampires!
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Citation? Cause I don't buy it.
No, this is a function of the relative power of the king to the nobility. In strong centralized states they absolutely did do this stuff.
Customs like guest right have to exist within a cultural context. It's a cornerstone, but it isn't the only one. On a practical level if you can't exert authority over your own people in your own places of power functioning as a coherent group is difficult.
You don't need to meet your minions on neutral ground with an ambassador to question them on their potential treasonous activities.
- Location
- washington
Gonna be honest I'm far too lazy.
That you know of yes, there were a bunch of mooks on that list Molly gave her... several days ago. One can assume she made use of it in the intern and got some evidence that is not your word alone
As I said, the way you do it is that you issue a warrant that commands they appear before your court to be judged. You don't ambush them at a religious ceremony or religious event you're hosting because you don't need to if you're leading a strong centralised state, and if you're not leading such a state you don't dare to.
Either way, you don't do it.
Not in the supernatural world.
This shit has teeth here. Especially since the biggest superpowers in the setting are literally bound by nature to obey that sort of thing.
We dont have access to everything going on in the White Court.
We gave Lara names and identities.
I doubt its particularly difficult for her to turn up evidence from publicly available information of systematic murders, which the other people she talked to can confirm; Reverend Mike was certainly operating openly for example.
Plus, do recall that its been less than six months since Madrigal Raith tried to auction a Warden commander on Ebay.
And that he was involved in some manner in the attempt to frame Dresden for Lt Green's death. Its certainly not coincidence that his sister Madeline, who canonically was also a traitor, is dead either, and noone has explained the exact circumstances under which she got shot and died.
There's enough of a pattern here for her to convince people.
But this is not a large centralized state, this is a hidden clan or people eaters whose leadership is trying to centralize it, this is the messy part between and Molly is the catalyst.
Anyway it is nearly 1 AM because that is when these conversations tend to come up for me for some reason ( 
), I'll cover more on this in the morning.
), I'll cover more on this in the morning.
- Location
- washington
offhand whose on the list of who we can murder here? Also whose on the list of people we want to murder later? Uju you making a plan? Cause murders happening with or without us.
That IS what happened in canon in White Night.
Dresden and Ramirez rolled up and threw down that gauntlet in the middle of a meeting of the upper tiers of the White Court, to which they were admitted by Raith security.
I certainly sympathize with the argument; like I said, Lara is walking very close to the edge here, and she doesnt have a reputation as a gambler. But it isnt entirely unprecedented.
Wait what??? How was that supossed to work.
Which is a funny little point of leverage, especially once Molly becomes her own hell-planet/empire*.
It'll certainly look very impressive that Lara has influence over Molly, but it's also contingent on us not breaking the illusion on her. She's largely a good influence on the court so her being in power is convenient for us, but it also means the influence runs the other way. Not listening to us would be unwise.
* We should invite her over for a formal event in the kingdom at some point, just to see the look on her face.
That treats individual members as far too independent and powerful relative to the whole.
Things like guest right are more about how you interact with others factions than how you handle your own.
See how the white council would call meetings during which Harry was occasionally within inches of being arrested on the spot and subjected to penalties. Those situations are fundamentally the same, regardless of how the organizations are structured.
I'm not saying she wouldn't do it. I'm saying that a very likely consequence is that the rest of the White Court never, ever trusts a Raith invitation again and that all future communication happens over video conference at best, if they don't just soft secede by completely ignoring everything the Raith family says and acting as if they don't exist.
OctarineShrike
Avatar of Mandos
It was a scene in Proven Guilty. He had Harry Dresden in Thorn Manacles.
Last post of the night, if you hand someone a stack of limited use chips (say green and silver ones) they tend to become gamblers.
- Location
- washington
in fairness shes at least two hundred years old she can't have gambled too much. lol
Yup, canon.
He bashed him over the head with a crowbar, bound him with antimagic manacles, then started trying to sell him off to his enemies.
Citation:
A door creaked open and footsteps approached. A moment later, Crane's voice murmured, "Awake, I see, Dresden. Your head must be as hard as everyone says. Mr. Glau, if you would be so kind?"
Someone fumbled at the hood over my face, and it withdrew along with the mouthpiece, and I could see that hood and gag were all of a piece. Charming. The mouthpiece had gripped my tongue with two little clamps. I spat the taste of metal out of my mouth, along with a little bit of blood. The hood and muzzle had torn my gums open in a couple of places.
I lay on my back, staring up at a corrugated metal ceiling, then looked around at a dim, ugly, forlorn-looking auto shop. The nagging sense of familiarity increased. The only doors leading out were chained shut and padlocked on the inside, and no keys were in sight.
Crane stood over me, looking down, smiling, as tall and dark and handsome as you please. My eyes went past him to Rawlins. The dark-skinned cop stood leaning against the wall, one wrist cuffed to a metal ring in a steel support beam. A bruise severe enough to show even on his dark skin covered one cheek entirely. Rawlins looked calm, remote, and unafraid. I was fairly sure it was only an act, but if so, it was a good one.
"Crane," I said. "What do you want?"
He smiled a nasty smile. "To build the future," he replied. "Networking is very important in my business."
"Cut the crap and talk," I said in a flat tone.
The smile vanished. "You would be wise not to anger me, wizard. You're hardly in a position to make demands."
"If you were going to kill me, you'd have done it already."
Crane let out a rueful laugh. "I suppose that's true enough. I was going to finish you and drop you in the lake, but imagine my surprise when I made some calls and it turns out that you're…"
"Infamous?" I suggested. "Tough? A good dancer?"
Crane showed me his teeth. "Marketable. For an insignificant young man, you've managed to irritate a great many people."
A little chill went through me. I kept it off my face.
Crane's eyes glittered anyway. "Ah. Yes. Fear." He inhaled deeply, his smile turning smug. "You're smart enough to know when you are powerless, at least. In my experience, most wizards are fairly cowardly, when push comes to shove."
I felt a hot reply coming, but again I set my anger aside-temporarily.
Crane was trying to push my buttons. He could only get away with it if I allowed him to do so. I met his dark eyes and let one corner of my mouth tilt up into a smile.
"In my experience," I replied, gaze unwavering, "people who have underestimated me regretted it."
I didn't feel like being drawn into a soulgaze with Crane, but I had little to lose. If nothing else, it might provide me with some valuable insight to his character.
Crane's nerve broke first. He turned to walk away from me, pretending that he'd just received a call on his cell phone-he already had a new one. He stood in the shadows on the other side of the room.
I spat more metal taste out of my mouth and wished I had a glass of water. Glau sat in a chair nearby, watching me. The little man had a gun resting in his lap, in hand and ready to go. A briefcase sat on the floor beside his chair.
"You," I said.
Glau looked at me without any readable expression.
"You killed my dog," I said. "Get your affairs in order."
Something ugly flickered through his eyes. "An idle threat. You will not live to see the dawn."
"You'd best hope I do," I said. "Because if I go down, I know where my death curse is going."
Glau's lips peeled back from his teeth, and I swear to God that they were pointed-not like a vampire's fangs or a ghoul's canines, but in solid, serrated triangles, like a shark. He rose, the gun twitching in his hand.
"Glau!" snapped Crane.
Glau froze for a second, and then relaxed and let the gun fall to his side.
Crane shoved the cell phone into his pocket and stalked over to me. "Keep your tongue in your mouth, wizard."
"Or what?" I asked. "You'll kill me? From where I'm standing, that isn't a worst-case scenario."
"True," Crane murmured. He withdrew a small handgun from his pocket and without so much as blinking shot Rawlins in the foot.
The big cop jerked against the cuffs that held him. His face contorted in surprised pain and he fell. The cuffs, fastened to the beam at shoulder level, cut cruelly into his wrists. Rawlins got his legs underneath him and let out a string of sulfurous curse words.
Crane regarded Rawlins for a moment, smiled, and then pointed the gun at the cop's head.
"No!" I shouted.
"It's entirely up to you, wizard, whether or not his children lose their father. Behave." He smiled again. "We'll all be happier."
Again the rage threatened to drown any rational thought in my head. Threatening me is one thing. Threatening someone else to get to me is another. I'm sick of seeing decent people suffer. I'm sick of seeing them die.
Patience, Harry. Calm. Rational. I was going to have to discourage Crane from this tactic with extreme prejudice as a deterrent to future weasels. But not yet. Keep him talking.
"Do you understand me?" Crane said.
I jerked my chin in a brief nod.
He smirked. "I want to hear you say it."
I clenched my jaw and said, "I understand."
"I'm so glad we had this talk," he said. There was a low buzzing sound, the almost-silent alert of his cell phone, I suppose, and he walked away again, taking it out of his pocket and lifting it to his ear.
"How long have we been here?" I asked Rawlins.
"Hour," he mumbled. "Hour and a half."
I nodded. "You okay?"
He let out a pained grunt. "Tore open the stitches on my arm," he panted. "Foot, I don't know. Can't feel it. Doesn't look like it's bleeding much."
"Hang in there," I said. "We'll get out of this."
Glau's rubbery lips stretched out into a silent little smile, though he looked at neither of us.
"Bull," Rawlins said. "If you can get out, you should go. Once he gets what he wants, he's going to kill me anyway. Don't stay on my account."
"You're siphoning my noble hero vibe," I told him. "Cease and desist or I'll sue."
Rawlins tried to smile, and leaned against the wall, weight off his injured foot. The lower portion of his left sleeve had soaked through with blood.
Crane returned a moment later, smiling like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Start building more tax shelters, Glau. This is going rather well."
"Yeah?" I asked. "So who's going to pony up for one Harry Dresden, slightly used?"
Crane showed me all his teeth. "I'm holding an auction as we speak. A rather energetic one."
"Yeah?" I asked. "Who's leading?"
His smiled widened. "Why, Paolo Ortega's widow. Duchess Arianna of the Red Court."
I suddenly felt cold, all over.
I was captured by the Red Court once. Held in the dark by a crowd of hissing, monstrous shapes.
They did things.
There was nothing I could do about it.
I still had the nightmares to remind me. Not every night, maybe, but often enough. Often enough.
Crane closed his eyes and inhaled with a satisfied expression. "She'll be quite creative when it comes to dealing with her husband's bane. I don't blame you for feeling terrified. Who wouldn't?"
"Hey," I told him, grasping at straws. "Call the White Council. If nothing else, maybe they'll run the bidding up for you."
Crane laughed. "I already have," he said.
Hope twitched somewhere inside me. If the Council knew I was in trouble, then maybe they would be able to do something. They might be on the way even now. I needed to stall Crane, keep him occupied. "Yeah? What did they say?"
His smile widened. "That the White Council's unyielding policy is one of nonnegotiation with terrorists."
Hope's corpse went through some postmortem twitching.
His phone buzzed again. He stepped away and spoke quietly, his back to us. After a moment he snapped his fingers and said, "Glau, get on the computer. The auction is closing in five minutes and there's always a last-second rush. We'll need to verify an account." He turned back to the phone. "No, unacceptable. A numbered account only. I don't trust those people at PayPal."
"Hey!" I protested. "Are you selling me on eBay?"
Crane winked at me. "Ironic, eh? Though I confess a bit of surprise. How do you know what it is?"
"I read," I told him.
"Ahhh," he said. "Glau. Computer."
Glau nodded but said, "They should not be unwatched."
"I can see them," Crane replied, irritation in his voice. "Move."
By his expression, Glau clearly did not agree with Crane, but he went.
Someone fumbled at the hood over my face, and it withdrew along with the mouthpiece, and I could see that hood and gag were all of a piece. Charming. The mouthpiece had gripped my tongue with two little clamps. I spat the taste of metal out of my mouth, along with a little bit of blood. The hood and muzzle had torn my gums open in a couple of places.
I lay on my back, staring up at a corrugated metal ceiling, then looked around at a dim, ugly, forlorn-looking auto shop. The nagging sense of familiarity increased. The only doors leading out were chained shut and padlocked on the inside, and no keys were in sight.
Crane stood over me, looking down, smiling, as tall and dark and handsome as you please. My eyes went past him to Rawlins. The dark-skinned cop stood leaning against the wall, one wrist cuffed to a metal ring in a steel support beam. A bruise severe enough to show even on his dark skin covered one cheek entirely. Rawlins looked calm, remote, and unafraid. I was fairly sure it was only an act, but if so, it was a good one.
"Crane," I said. "What do you want?"
He smiled a nasty smile. "To build the future," he replied. "Networking is very important in my business."
"Cut the crap and talk," I said in a flat tone.
The smile vanished. "You would be wise not to anger me, wizard. You're hardly in a position to make demands."
"If you were going to kill me, you'd have done it already."
Crane let out a rueful laugh. "I suppose that's true enough. I was going to finish you and drop you in the lake, but imagine my surprise when I made some calls and it turns out that you're…"
"Infamous?" I suggested. "Tough? A good dancer?"
Crane showed me his teeth. "Marketable. For an insignificant young man, you've managed to irritate a great many people."
A little chill went through me. I kept it off my face.
Crane's eyes glittered anyway. "Ah. Yes. Fear." He inhaled deeply, his smile turning smug. "You're smart enough to know when you are powerless, at least. In my experience, most wizards are fairly cowardly, when push comes to shove."
I felt a hot reply coming, but again I set my anger aside-temporarily.
Crane was trying to push my buttons. He could only get away with it if I allowed him to do so. I met his dark eyes and let one corner of my mouth tilt up into a smile.
"In my experience," I replied, gaze unwavering, "people who have underestimated me regretted it."
I didn't feel like being drawn into a soulgaze with Crane, but I had little to lose. If nothing else, it might provide me with some valuable insight to his character.
Crane's nerve broke first. He turned to walk away from me, pretending that he'd just received a call on his cell phone-he already had a new one. He stood in the shadows on the other side of the room.
I spat more metal taste out of my mouth and wished I had a glass of water. Glau sat in a chair nearby, watching me. The little man had a gun resting in his lap, in hand and ready to go. A briefcase sat on the floor beside his chair.
"You," I said.
Glau looked at me without any readable expression.
"You killed my dog," I said. "Get your affairs in order."
Something ugly flickered through his eyes. "An idle threat. You will not live to see the dawn."
"You'd best hope I do," I said. "Because if I go down, I know where my death curse is going."
Glau's lips peeled back from his teeth, and I swear to God that they were pointed-not like a vampire's fangs or a ghoul's canines, but in solid, serrated triangles, like a shark. He rose, the gun twitching in his hand.
"Glau!" snapped Crane.
Glau froze for a second, and then relaxed and let the gun fall to his side.
Crane shoved the cell phone into his pocket and stalked over to me. "Keep your tongue in your mouth, wizard."
"Or what?" I asked. "You'll kill me? From where I'm standing, that isn't a worst-case scenario."
"True," Crane murmured. He withdrew a small handgun from his pocket and without so much as blinking shot Rawlins in the foot.
The big cop jerked against the cuffs that held him. His face contorted in surprised pain and he fell. The cuffs, fastened to the beam at shoulder level, cut cruelly into his wrists. Rawlins got his legs underneath him and let out a string of sulfurous curse words.
Crane regarded Rawlins for a moment, smiled, and then pointed the gun at the cop's head.
"No!" I shouted.
"It's entirely up to you, wizard, whether or not his children lose their father. Behave." He smiled again. "We'll all be happier."
Again the rage threatened to drown any rational thought in my head. Threatening me is one thing. Threatening someone else to get to me is another. I'm sick of seeing decent people suffer. I'm sick of seeing them die.
Patience, Harry. Calm. Rational. I was going to have to discourage Crane from this tactic with extreme prejudice as a deterrent to future weasels. But not yet. Keep him talking.
"Do you understand me?" Crane said.
I jerked my chin in a brief nod.
He smirked. "I want to hear you say it."
I clenched my jaw and said, "I understand."
"I'm so glad we had this talk," he said. There was a low buzzing sound, the almost-silent alert of his cell phone, I suppose, and he walked away again, taking it out of his pocket and lifting it to his ear.
"How long have we been here?" I asked Rawlins.
"Hour," he mumbled. "Hour and a half."
I nodded. "You okay?"
He let out a pained grunt. "Tore open the stitches on my arm," he panted. "Foot, I don't know. Can't feel it. Doesn't look like it's bleeding much."
"Hang in there," I said. "We'll get out of this."
Glau's rubbery lips stretched out into a silent little smile, though he looked at neither of us.
"Bull," Rawlins said. "If you can get out, you should go. Once he gets what he wants, he's going to kill me anyway. Don't stay on my account."
"You're siphoning my noble hero vibe," I told him. "Cease and desist or I'll sue."
Rawlins tried to smile, and leaned against the wall, weight off his injured foot. The lower portion of his left sleeve had soaked through with blood.
Crane returned a moment later, smiling like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Start building more tax shelters, Glau. This is going rather well."
"Yeah?" I asked. "So who's going to pony up for one Harry Dresden, slightly used?"
Crane showed me all his teeth. "I'm holding an auction as we speak. A rather energetic one."
"Yeah?" I asked. "Who's leading?"
His smiled widened. "Why, Paolo Ortega's widow. Duchess Arianna of the Red Court."
I suddenly felt cold, all over.
I was captured by the Red Court once. Held in the dark by a crowd of hissing, monstrous shapes.
They did things.
There was nothing I could do about it.
I still had the nightmares to remind me. Not every night, maybe, but often enough. Often enough.
Crane closed his eyes and inhaled with a satisfied expression. "She'll be quite creative when it comes to dealing with her husband's bane. I don't blame you for feeling terrified. Who wouldn't?"
"Hey," I told him, grasping at straws. "Call the White Council. If nothing else, maybe they'll run the bidding up for you."
Crane laughed. "I already have," he said.
Hope twitched somewhere inside me. If the Council knew I was in trouble, then maybe they would be able to do something. They might be on the way even now. I needed to stall Crane, keep him occupied. "Yeah? What did they say?"
His smile widened. "That the White Council's unyielding policy is one of nonnegotiation with terrorists."
Hope's corpse went through some postmortem twitching.
His phone buzzed again. He stepped away and spoke quietly, his back to us. After a moment he snapped his fingers and said, "Glau, get on the computer. The auction is closing in five minutes and there's always a last-second rush. We'll need to verify an account." He turned back to the phone. "No, unacceptable. A numbered account only. I don't trust those people at PayPal."
"Hey!" I protested. "Are you selling me on eBay?"
Crane winked at me. "Ironic, eh? Though I confess a bit of surprise. How do you know what it is?"
"I read," I told him.
"Ahhh," he said. "Glau. Computer."
Glau nodded but said, "They should not be unwatched."
"I can see them," Crane replied, irritation in his voice. "Move."
By his expression, Glau clearly did not agree with Crane, but he went.
He even made the offer to the White Council, and when the WC told him that they do not negotiate with terrorists, he didnt have the mother wit to realize that was a warning. From the organization that dropped a satellite on Paolo Ortega's head.
I´m a bit suprised how many here are arguing about guest rights and the look of things and supposed loss of trustworthiness of the White Court. All supernaturals in Dresden Files, including the White Council, are rule lawyers extraordinaire. If you have a 100% safe binding agreement than you are safe. If not, if the tiniest loophole exists, they will (ab)use it to screw you over. This is nothing particulary suprising or new. That is how the game has been played for millenia. Remember the ridiculous Casus Belli the Red Court used to declare war agaisnt the White Council?
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- Location
- washington
no disagreement though I don't care much we're about to murder people. I was more debating some of the finer details.
- Location
- Canada
Yeah, the biggest sets of international law in the supernatural world have "there is no spirit of the law, only the letter" as one of its laws. Customs like guest rights matter, but note that power matters far more; even when the Formor tried to bomb the signing of a non-aggression pact between the Fomor and Svartaelves, Etri only killed the guy doing it rather than declared war (probably because he knew by themselves the Svartaelves would've been roflstomped. Probably why he even agreed to the pact in the first place, so they wouldn't get shitstomped by the strongest supernatural faction in the world)
In the end if you have the power to deal with the consequences, you can do anything. And given Lara has both political power from her machinations and martial power in the implied control over two Exalts to kill her enemies, I think this night will only strengthen her hold over the White Court.
In the end if you have the power to deal with the consequences, you can do anything. And given Lara has both political power from her machinations and martial power in the implied control over two Exalts to kill her enemies, I think this night will only strengthen her hold over the White Court.
- Location
- washington
Given there are strictly benevolent beings out there that care about the spirit. Harrys just you know harry and can't have nice things. Also its not usually the strictly benevolent beings that cause problems.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Okay, can we stop with the long detail of whether the NPC's actions are a good move from their perspective or not, especially since the QM seems thoroughly convinced not to change it, and instead focus on how we are going to respond? Mainly, the vote? Combat strategies?
We are within 2 updates of open combat with results determined partially by the current vote. Arguing about the political implications of that combat is something that can wait until after we have decided on strategy.
We are within 2 updates of open combat with results determined partially by the current vote. Arguing about the political implications of that combat is something that can wait until after we have decided on strategy.
To be fair there has been discussion of that, and there are multiple plans on the board.
They're missing stunts though, which is probably a mistake.
