Green Flame Rising (Exalted vs Dresden Files)
- Thread starter DragonParadox
- Start date
- Crossover Fantasy
Not to my knowledge.
Norse Valkyries werent messengers. They were recruiters, hence the name Choosers of the Slain. In the Dresdenverse, also military champions.The messenger of the Norse gods was allegedly Hermoor, son of Odin and himself a god.
Just like the messenger of the Greek gods was Hermes, himself a god.
Fair.
Valkyries explicitly worked on at least some of the dead. Einherjar at least.
Big land spirits, not really. Demonreach is the only one we've seen with it.
Dresden's characterization was age.
2015 Word of Jim on vampires:
Unless the QM rules otherwise for this AU, thats working canon.
At least until and unless Butcher chooses to retcon this, or introduce further nuance.
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A choice does not mean an unforced or even a lucid choice. That is very much in theme with the metaphysics of the world, free will is fundamental, but it can be swayed by external circumstance.
Re: skinwalker:
But he's certainly implying that its not a run of the mill spirit gone bad.
But the point is that making a Rampire still requires that the half-Red kill someone of their own choosing, whether they are lucid or not. Tying them down and draining a person's blood into their mouth wont do it.
Controlling them into doing probably wont count either.
Not sure what Butcher means here.
But he's certainly implying that its not a run of the mill spirit gone bad.
Oh sure. Free will can be swayed.
But the point is that making a Rampire still requires that the half-Red kill someone of their own choosing, whether they are lucid or not. Tying them down and draining a person's blood into their mouth wont do it.
Controlling them into doing probably wont count either.
Sorry, but I don't see it, at all. So far Holy People seem exactly like normal pagan pantheons, including needing to leave the Earth in the last millennium or so.
Given the subject of naagloshii's intellectus (how to make people suffer), and their divine purpose (teaching and enlightening people) it's reasonable to assume that they didn't have intellectus (or at least intellectus for the same topic) before their fall.
Valyries in classical myths are psychopomps, if I understand correctly. Charon / Thanatos equivalents of sorts. I would argue that their role in northern mythology is at least equivalent in importance to that of naagloshii the teachers in native American one.
[X]BronzeTongue
In my opinion? Yog is going too much.
He's giving up the secret of divination when its not necessary. And critically, he's lying when he doesnt have to; the supernatural world does a lot of deception, but lying outright gets you a reputation.
Subterfuge is the right idea, but stating that the Reds told you he was here when we dont know when he was hired is just asking to be tripped up. And there's literally no reason to tell him that we were stomping on Iku-Turso and the Pathfinders.
Thats valuable information that he can likely trade to the Fomor, say.
Im not entirely satisfied with BronzeTongue's plan; we have an opportunity here to extract more information that he isnt taking.
But Im too frazzled right now to come up with an alternative.
In my opinion? Yog is going too much.
He's giving up the secret of divination when its not necessary. And critically, he's lying when he doesnt have to; the supernatural world does a lot of deception, but lying outright gets you a reputation.
Subterfuge is the right idea, but stating that the Reds told you he was here when we dont know when he was hired is just asking to be tripped up. And there's literally no reason to tell him that we were stomping on Iku-Turso and the Pathfinders.
Thats valuable information that he can likely trade to the Fomor, say.
Im not entirely satisfied with BronzeTongue's plan; we have an opportunity here to extract more information that he isnt taking.
But Im too frazzled right now to come up with an alternative.
My feeling is that the Valkyrie have been significant diminished along with the rest of their pantheon, so they're much less than what they were, and those who started loyal accepted that.
The naagaloshi didn't, they took the same approach that Katrin did and chose to steal others' power to compensate for their diminishment.
My read has been that there are some powers which are more on a fundamental level than others, which may be aspects of the same thing or same small set of things. Butcher just largely uses this to advance his preferred religious biases rather than playing it out.
The Holy People are probably significantly bigger deals than regular pagan gods of Odin's type, but there's space behind the curtain for them to be something more without being them specifically being archangels or whatever.
We should advance that agenda before and above secondary targets to avoid stepping on our own toes.
The Holy People are probably significantly bigger deals than regular pagan gods of Odin's type, but there's space behind the curtain for them to be something more without being them specifically being archangels or whatever.
I'm tempted by more information, but I want to keep on message. The goal is to make BS think this isn't worth it so he'll give up Alec and Izzy.
We should advance that agenda before and above secondary targets to avoid stepping on our own toes.
Agree to disagree.
Or that they had intellectus, but that it was twisted by their fall/corruption.
More likely than spontaneous development IMO.
I would strongly disagree.
In Norse myth, valkyries guide the souls of the dead and serve mead in Valhalla.
In Dresdenverse mythology, naagloshii helped teach the tribes before they fell.
To be (unfairly) reductionist?
Naagloshii were teachers/teaching assistants, valkyries were recruiters/guides and barkeeps.
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Molly is an Exalt, I will say this much: if you guys want to find out more about Naagloshii both trying to wheedle it out of him with socials and dissecting the corpse are valid paths forward
Yes. Both were performing somewhat similar function (because teaching is recruiting and indoctrination on at least some level). Naagloshii taught (made disciples from) medicine men and shamans. Valkyiries selected the best warriors and helped to prepare / maintain them until Ragnarok.
If the Holy People fell either Broken Seeker and his ilk suck or the people did. Either way it does not indicate power quite the opposite in fact.
More than a bit of an aside, but the whole dissection thing has me thinking about the crafting system again (even though it isn't necessary).
Specifically about how focused on not letting whatever we make into the wild instead of the morbid humor of nearly "irresponsible dnd archmage" McGuffin handling.
A lot of the crafting stuff has rules about limits allowing for greater power, and more than a few really need home brew to work at all.
We really shouldn't, but I can't help but think about the sort of absolutely unfair stuff we could pull if we made items specifically to screw over types of entities or even individual people we don't like.
Like making a 4 dot splendor + 5 dot prodigy that does nothing other than attempt to screw over Naagoloshii. Perfect effects and time travel are on the table at that level, limited more by plot control than scale if you use RaW.
The mic drop of building a weapon that reverse-Aku's Naagoloshi into the hands of the Holy People or otherwise forces them to follow where they went and submit to their judgment via atemporal spirit nonsense if you beat them while using it* but is absolutely powerless everywhere else would be amazing.
Even in the realm of what's written creating something that just follows them around and curses the shit out of a lucky winner till they die is totally possible.
Wasteful? Yep? Largely pointless? Yes?
Funny? No question.
* And naturally cheats hard to make it happen
Specifically about how focused on not letting whatever we make into the wild instead of the morbid humor of nearly "irresponsible dnd archmage" McGuffin handling.
A lot of the crafting stuff has rules about limits allowing for greater power, and more than a few really need home brew to work at all.
We really shouldn't, but I can't help but think about the sort of absolutely unfair stuff we could pull if we made items specifically to screw over types of entities or even individual people we don't like.
Like making a 4 dot splendor + 5 dot prodigy that does nothing other than attempt to screw over Naagoloshii. Perfect effects and time travel are on the table at that level, limited more by plot control than scale if you use RaW.
The mic drop of building a weapon that reverse-Aku's Naagoloshi into the hands of the Holy People or otherwise forces them to follow where they went and submit to their judgment via atemporal spirit nonsense if you beat them while using it* but is absolutely powerless everywhere else would be amazing.
Even in the realm of what's written creating something that just follows them around and curses the shit out of a lucky winner till they die is totally possible.
Wasteful? Yep? Largely pointless? Yes?
Funny? No question.
* And naturally cheats hard to make it happen
Vote is still a tie.
- Location
- Brazil
I changed my vote.
OK, looks like we are going to try to thread the needle. This is the kind of task where the question is not 'did you succeed', but 'how many multiples of 5 successes did you get'. Thankfully you are playing an exalt and that is reasonable for you
MONEY MATH ASSUMPTIONS (OR HOW COMPOUND INTEREST IS TOTALLY UNFAIR FOR IMMORTALS)
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www.investopedia.com
The S&P 500 has averaged an annualized yearly return of 11.88% between 1957 and the end of 2021.
If Arawn Rhi had invested $10 million dollars in the S&P 500 at the end of WW2, left it untouched in the hands of a money manager somewhere discreet like 20th century Switzerland, and it had grown at average US stock market rates of 11.88?
In 2006, that initial 10 million would be worth $ 8.416 billion .With a B.
Assuming that his money manager charged fees that reduced the net yield from 11.88% to 10%?
That sum would still have grown to $3.04 billion.
Or, to do the math another way?
If he invested $3,000,000 in 1945 and $1 million each year subsequently, at an average return of 10% his hoard would be worth $4 billion by 2006. No shenanigans involved, or particular wisdom necessary. Just patience and compound interest.
Which brings us to his daughter and our Circle mate, Lydia.
Assuming that Arawn created a personal investment fund on her behalf when she was born, with a lump sum of $10 million, a recurring deposit of $1 million every year on her birthday till she became a legal adult, and the same average 10% yearly return on investments, she would be worth roughly $85 million dollars on her 16th birthday.
If she only gets to touch 3.3% of the yield on that sum, with the rest going back into the fund for reinvestment?
That would still leave her with a yearly income of around 2.8ish million dollars
Roughly 2 million or so after taxes.
Think around a fifth of a million dollars every month.
And there's a good chance that she isnt paying rent on her house, assuming Arawn bought it when they moved to Chicago.
Which explains how she could front us fifty grand on diamonds without even blinking.
Poor little rich girl indeed.
S&P 500 Average Returns and Historical Performance
See the historical performance of the S&P 500 Index. Learn more about the factors that affect the S&P 500 average return.
If Arawn Rhi had invested $10 million dollars in the S&P 500 at the end of WW2, left it untouched in the hands of a money manager somewhere discreet like 20th century Switzerland, and it had grown at average US stock market rates of 11.88?
In 2006, that initial 10 million would be worth $ 8.416 billion .With a B.
Assuming that his money manager charged fees that reduced the net yield from 11.88% to 10%?
That sum would still have grown to $3.04 billion.
Or, to do the math another way?
If he invested $3,000,000 in 1945 and $1 million each year subsequently, at an average return of 10% his hoard would be worth $4 billion by 2006. No shenanigans involved, or particular wisdom necessary. Just patience and compound interest.
Which brings us to his daughter and our Circle mate, Lydia.
Assuming that Arawn created a personal investment fund on her behalf when she was born, with a lump sum of $10 million, a recurring deposit of $1 million every year on her birthday till she became a legal adult, and the same average 10% yearly return on investments, she would be worth roughly $85 million dollars on her 16th birthday.
If she only gets to touch 3.3% of the yield on that sum, with the rest going back into the fund for reinvestment?
That would still leave her with a yearly income of around 2.8ish million dollars
Roughly 2 million or so after taxes.
Think around a fifth of a million dollars every month.
And there's a good chance that she isnt paying rent on her house, assuming Arawn bought it when they moved to Chicago.
Which explains how she could front us fifty grand on diamonds without even blinking.
Poor little rich girl indeed.
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Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
Makes me think back to the 90s when I used to watch the Highlander TV series. More than once, I remember thinking about how the older immortals, those with at least a century or two under their belts, had it made, not so much for combat experience or number of quickenings they might have taken, but simply the time they'd had to let investments compound into serious money.MONEY MATH ASSUMPTIONS (OR HOW COMPOUND INTEREST IS TOTALLY UNFAIR FOR IMMORTALS)
The S&P 500 has averaged an annualized yearly return of 11.88% between 1957 and the end of 2021.S&P 500 Average Returns and Historical Performance
See the historical performance of the S&P 500 Index. Learn more about the factors that affect the S&P 500 average return.
If Arawn Rhi had invested $10 million dollars in the S&P 500 at the end of WW2, left it untouched in the hands of a money manager somewhere discreet like 20th century Switzerland, and it had grown at average US stock market rates of 11.88?
In 2006, that initial 10 million would be worth $ 8.416 billion .With a B.
Assuming that his money manager charged fees that reduced the net yield from 11.88% to 10%?
That sum would still have grown to $3.04 billion.
Or, to do the math another way?
If he invested $3,000,000 in 1945 and $1 million each year subsequently, at an average return of 10% his hoard would be worth $4 billion by 2006. No shenanigans involved, or particular wisdom necessary. Just patience and compound interest.
Which brings us to his daughter and our Circle mate, Lydia.
Assuming that Arawn created a personal investment fund on her behalf when she was born, with a lump sum of $10 million, a recurring deposit of $1 million every year on her birthday till she became a legal adult, and the same average 10% yearly return on investments, she would be worth roughly $85 million dollars on her 16th birthday.
If she only gets to touch 3.3% of the yield on that sum, with the rest going back into the fund for reinvestment?
That would still leave her with a yearly income of around 2.8ish million dollars
Roughly 2 million or so after taxes.
Think around a fifth of a million dollars every month.
And there's a good chance that she isnt paying rent on her house, assuming Arawn bought it when they moved to Chicago.
Which explains how she could front us fifty grand on diamonds without even blinking.
Poor little rich girl indeed.
As opposed to the rare newbie immortals, who still have college loans and mortgages to pay off. It's glamorous to be a centuries old dude, forever young and living off the interest from $100 you invested 200 years earlier. Not so much to be an actually young immortal working in retail and waiting tables on the side so you can afford fencing classes and a decent sword that isn't just a cheap wall hanger.
Yeah.
Compound interest is a fucking cheat if you are an immortal with a chunk of seed money or the discipline to sock away a chunk of your income for investment and some patience; a couple decades and you can afford not to work. At all.
They even made a point of it in Dresden Files:
The first thing I heard was hectic-sounding, hyperactive music. A singer was screaming tunelessly and drums were pounding and someone was either playing electric guitars or slowly dipping partially laryngitic cats in boiling oil. None of the supposed musicians appeared to be paying attention to anything anyone else in the band was doing.
"Christ," came Binder's accented voice. "Not even you could dance to that tripe."
There was a low-throated female laugh, and a slurred and very happy-sounding Madeline Raith replied, "This music isn't about skill and precision, my sweet. It's about hunger and passion. And I could dance to it to make your eyes fall out."
"I am not 'your sweet,' " Binder said, his voice annoyed. "I am not your anything, ducks, excepting your contracted employee."
"I'm not sure I'd emphasize that if I were you, Binder," Madeline said. "Since you've been a crushing disappointment as a hireling."
"I told you when I got started that if anyone from the White Council showed up, I couldn't make you any promises," he shot back, his voice annoyed. "And lo and behold, what happens? That buggering lunatic Harry Dresden shows up with backup—and with the support of the local constabulary, to boot."
"I'm getting so sick of this," Madeline said. "He's only one man."
"One bloody member of the White bloody Council," Binder countered. "Bear in mind that someone like him can do everything I can do and considerable besides. And even people on the bloody Council are nervous about that one."
"Well, I'm sick of him," spat Madeline. "Did you find out where he's got Morgan hidden?"
"Maybe you didn't hear, love, but I spent my day chained to a chair getting popped in the mouth."
Madeline laughed, a cold, mocking sound. "There are places you'd have to pay for that."
"Not bloody likely."
"Did you find Morgan?"
Binder growled. "Dresden had him stashed in rental storage for a bit, but he hared off before the cops could pick him up. Probably took him into the Nevernever. They could be anywhere."
"Not if Dresden is back in Chicago," Madeline said. "He'd never let himself be too far from Morgan."
"So check his bloody apartment," Binder said.
"Don't be an idiot," Madeline said. "That's the first place anyone would look. He's not a total moron."
Yeah. I wasn't. Ahem.
Binder snickered. "You're money, Raith. Money never really gets it."
Madeline's voice turned waspish. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"That not everyone has a bloody string of mansions around the world that they live in or extra cars that they never really drive or cash enough to not think twice about dropping two hundred bloody dollars on a bottle of forty-dollar room service champagne."
"So?"
"So, Dresden's a bloody kid by Council standards. Lives in that crappy little hole. And pays for an office for his business, to boot. He ain't had a century or two of compounded interest to shore up his accounts, now, has he? And when he set himself up an emergency retreat, did he buy himself a furnished condo in another town? No. He rents out a cruddy little storage unit and stacks some camping gear inside."
"All right," Madeline said, her tone impatient. "Suppose you're right. Suppose he's got Morgan at his apartment. He won't have left him unprotected."
"Naturally not," Binder replied. "He'll have a bloody minefield of wards around the place. Might have some conjured guardians or some such as well."
"Could you get through them?"
"Give me enough time and enough of my lads, and yeah," he said. "But it wouldn't be quick, quiet, or clean. There's a simpler way."
"Which is?"
"Burn the bloody place down," Binder said promptly. "The apartment's got one door. If Morgan comes scurrying out, we bag him. If not, we collect his bones after the ashes cool. Identify him with dental records or something and claim the reward."
I felt a little bit sick to my stomach. Binder was way too perceptive for my comfort level. The guy might not be overly smart, but he was more than a little cunning. His plan was pretty much exactly the best way to attack my apartment, defensive magicks notwithstanding. What's more, I knew he was capable of actually doing it. It would kill my elderly neighbors, the other residents of the building, but that wouldn't slow someone like Binder down for half of a second.
"No," Madeline said after a tense moment of silence. "I have my instructions. If we can't take him ourselves, we at least see to it that the Wardens find him."
"The Wardens havefound him," Binder complained. "Dresden's a bloody Warden. Your boss should have paid up already."
There was a quiet, deadly silence, and then Madeline purred, "You've been modestly helpful to him in the past, Binder. But don't start thinking that you would survive telling him what he should or should not do. The moment you become more annoying than useful, you are a dead man."
"No sin to want money," Binder said sullenly. "I did my part to get it."
"No," Madeline said. "You lost a fight to one overgrown Boy Scout and one pint-sized mortal woman, got yourself locked up by thepolice, of all the ridiculous things, and missed your chance to earn the reward." Sheets rustled, and soft footsteps whispered on the carpet. A moment later, a lighter flicked—Madeline smoked.
"Christ," came Binder's accented voice. "Not even you could dance to that tripe."
There was a low-throated female laugh, and a slurred and very happy-sounding Madeline Raith replied, "This music isn't about skill and precision, my sweet. It's about hunger and passion. And I could dance to it to make your eyes fall out."
"I am not 'your sweet,' " Binder said, his voice annoyed. "I am not your anything, ducks, excepting your contracted employee."
"I'm not sure I'd emphasize that if I were you, Binder," Madeline said. "Since you've been a crushing disappointment as a hireling."
"I told you when I got started that if anyone from the White Council showed up, I couldn't make you any promises," he shot back, his voice annoyed. "And lo and behold, what happens? That buggering lunatic Harry Dresden shows up with backup—and with the support of the local constabulary, to boot."
"I'm getting so sick of this," Madeline said. "He's only one man."
"One bloody member of the White bloody Council," Binder countered. "Bear in mind that someone like him can do everything I can do and considerable besides. And even people on the bloody Council are nervous about that one."
"Well, I'm sick of him," spat Madeline. "Did you find out where he's got Morgan hidden?"
"Maybe you didn't hear, love, but I spent my day chained to a chair getting popped in the mouth."
Madeline laughed, a cold, mocking sound. "There are places you'd have to pay for that."
"Not bloody likely."
"Did you find Morgan?"
Binder growled. "Dresden had him stashed in rental storage for a bit, but he hared off before the cops could pick him up. Probably took him into the Nevernever. They could be anywhere."
"Not if Dresden is back in Chicago," Madeline said. "He'd never let himself be too far from Morgan."
"So check his bloody apartment," Binder said.
"Don't be an idiot," Madeline said. "That's the first place anyone would look. He's not a total moron."
Yeah. I wasn't. Ahem.
Binder snickered. "You're money, Raith. Money never really gets it."
Madeline's voice turned waspish. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"That not everyone has a bloody string of mansions around the world that they live in or extra cars that they never really drive or cash enough to not think twice about dropping two hundred bloody dollars on a bottle of forty-dollar room service champagne."
"So?"
"So, Dresden's a bloody kid by Council standards. Lives in that crappy little hole. And pays for an office for his business, to boot. He ain't had a century or two of compounded interest to shore up his accounts, now, has he? And when he set himself up an emergency retreat, did he buy himself a furnished condo in another town? No. He rents out a cruddy little storage unit and stacks some camping gear inside."
"All right," Madeline said, her tone impatient. "Suppose you're right. Suppose he's got Morgan at his apartment. He won't have left him unprotected."
"Naturally not," Binder replied. "He'll have a bloody minefield of wards around the place. Might have some conjured guardians or some such as well."
"Could you get through them?"
"Give me enough time and enough of my lads, and yeah," he said. "But it wouldn't be quick, quiet, or clean. There's a simpler way."
"Which is?"
"Burn the bloody place down," Binder said promptly. "The apartment's got one door. If Morgan comes scurrying out, we bag him. If not, we collect his bones after the ashes cool. Identify him with dental records or something and claim the reward."
I felt a little bit sick to my stomach. Binder was way too perceptive for my comfort level. The guy might not be overly smart, but he was more than a little cunning. His plan was pretty much exactly the best way to attack my apartment, defensive magicks notwithstanding. What's more, I knew he was capable of actually doing it. It would kill my elderly neighbors, the other residents of the building, but that wouldn't slow someone like Binder down for half of a second.
"No," Madeline said after a tense moment of silence. "I have my instructions. If we can't take him ourselves, we at least see to it that the Wardens find him."
"The Wardens havefound him," Binder complained. "Dresden's a bloody Warden. Your boss should have paid up already."
There was a quiet, deadly silence, and then Madeline purred, "You've been modestly helpful to him in the past, Binder. But don't start thinking that you would survive telling him what he should or should not do. The moment you become more annoying than useful, you are a dead man."
"No sin to want money," Binder said sullenly. "I did my part to get it."
"No," Madeline said. "You lost a fight to one overgrown Boy Scout and one pint-sized mortal woman, got yourself locked up by thepolice, of all the ridiculous things, and missed your chance to earn the reward." Sheets rustled, and soft footsteps whispered on the carpet. A moment later, a lighter flicked—Madeline smoked.
This makes me realize that the economic system of a society where everyone is immortal, ie our likely hell, is going to be wild and very alien. I'm actually not even sure how to model it to start with.
Also, @DragonParadox can we use NWS on someone's corpse?
Eclipse Phase's Titan Commonwealth forms a good chunk of my model so far.
Assuming I can finish in time.
But I dont think we have to model shit in that much detail.
Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
It will truly be a Hell, like the Federation in Star Trek, where money has no value and people work for fun...
Arc 8 Post 54: Of Horror and Intrigue
Of Horror and Intrigue
18th of November 2006 A.D.
"Did you sign a pledge of allegiance," you choose the words with malice and forethought, the tone meant to convey almost-capital lettering. If Broken Seeker did not hate the federal government before he sure as hell hates them now that they drove his little cult out of Arizona. "Surely one as old and wise in treachery as yourself knows some way to convey meaning without words."
"Strange that you would bargain with me while plying me with praise to my skill at oath-breaking sister. Not that I do not understand the thrill you understand, but still an odd method to your madness."
But for Usum you might have missed the implication in the sandpaper-voice. If things were less dire you might have preferred it that way. Is he trying to kink-shame me? You consider it a moment. He is, he thinks I'm attracted to dishonour and is... trying to make me feel shame at the fact this is getting in the way of my goals.
"Mad you name me but lo, look to yourself. You're very well prepared for today, but what about tomorrow? You can hurt my mortals, and that's certainly leverage, but it has a shelf life and I know you."
A sort of deep resonant hum comes over the phone, a sound you do not think the humanoid voice-box could ever make and only then does it occur to you that Broken Seeker might see shame and madness though a lens as skewed as he does treachery. He is flirting with you, the nightmare-demon to the Navajo, false idol to broken madmen is flirting with you over the phone.
Don't puke Molly, think of poor Clippy getting that on her buttons
"Even if you dodge the wizards' till their blood is dust I will remember the insult if nothing else." It would be too much to hope that threats of torment, no matter how sincerely delivered would make the Skinwalker think any differently of you.
All the while you had been flying low, using the overhangs and parapets to keep out of sight. As you approach the parking lot you slow. The last thing you want is Harry much less your father in range of this conversation.
"What of the insult already given to me and mine, one of my students a captive of petty parasites, another's death ripped unceremoniously from my hands as one would down a shot of absinthe and whiskey? Should I rejoice in the theft, find solace in the fact you did not kill more? Oh I know, I know they were not near as weighty in my thoughts as my guests are in yours..." Distantly you hear the sound of a clawed hand slicing a lock of hair. So sharp are your senses that you can even tell it's Izzy's. "But objectively they aren't even your memories truly, only the leavings of shed skin. I have them too you know, regrets, impulses, the little rituals they do to try to keep away the chaos of existence. Just recently I gave myself such a love of jazz that I wept when I ate a musician. Couldn't find a blind one though, that would have made the feeling so much more complex..."
Slowly, syllable by rambling syllable a picture of Broken Seeker starts to form in your head, and then it starts to fill in with colours you did not even know existed.
"What is objectivity to such as you and I?" The question sounds idle, it is anything but. "What pillar has been nailed into the centre of existence to dictate what is true and what is not? You call my memories of your prisoners lies, I call them mine and that is enough."
Lost 1 Essence -> Now at 9/15 (Subterfuge Excellency)
"Indeed sister..." the direction of the conversation imbues the word with new vistas of 'ew', but he is listening to you. "What is a lie and what is truth, what is beauty and what is ugliness? Fools, weaklings presume to hedge in experience so."
"Weaklings do more than engage in rhetorical mutilation..." Use the language of violence as much as you can since it's his idiom. "They might be inclined to think themselves cunning and set the strong against the strong, knowing that only in the battle might they profit as grubs eat globs of flesh hacked off and thrown onto the ground. So might the one who sent you here seek the death of one or both of us torn apart their profit."
"Grant Park," he says suddenly. "I'll hang them my something less important than their necks, but sister you still owe me for my lost ones if you wish for secrets from my lips."
He is planning to put Izzy and Alec up in the park in some way that is painful and terrifying, but not crippling, by the standards of Broken Seeker's kind a show of goodwill, by any humane standard torture, an invitation to ante up and pay him something 'for his trouble'. Well you are not going to let him eat some aspect of Harry that's for sure, but maybe you could offer the dark spirit a dead vampire... before the interest you have sparked in him will turn once more to thoughts of how best to how to murder and devour you.
Interest of one sort does not preclude the other, if anything they feed on each other.
What do you do?
[] Feign agreement and prepare to attack as soon as Izzy and Alec are out of the van
[] In for the penny in for the pound, explicitly offer to help deal with Arianna Ortega in exchange for not hurting your friends
[] Write in
OOC: Butcher does a lot of things well in his writing, but one of the things I feel escape him which is more and more obvious as the scope of the books becomes more cosmic is writing the alien motivations rather than just appearance of some of the things he presents. The fact that Molly reads as very dark and very much not human to things like the Skinwalker here allows me to explore that a bit more.