Green Flame Rising (Exalted vs Dresden Files)
- Thread starter DragonParadox
- Start date
- Crossover Fantasy
Technically yes, but as Molly grows more comfortable with her she's being less precise inside her own head. She will get to 'Murphy' eventually and then who knows, maybe even to 'Karin'.
- Location
- being near locations is my passion.
The paper is for a university assignment, then?
- Pronouns
- ImBuda
[X] Plan Woman With a Thousand Faces
-[X] Push through, a little awkwardness won't kill you... though a lot might feel like it
-[X] Use Black Mirror Incarnation to make yourself look similar, but distinct from Molly Carpenter
-[X] Subterfuge excellency, Etiquette Excellency if needed. All Things Betray with Willpower.
-[X] STUNT: you lean back into your seat, momentarily hidden from view by father Forthill. When next you move, exiting the car, it's Margret Smith, who is smiling at Detective Murphy's relative, and definitely not Molly Carpenter. Not with that bearing, grace or looks, which, while similar from a distance, are those of an older woman with a different eye color and different subtle details. It's possible that she's a distant cousin, but that's all.
-[X] Push through, a little awkwardness won't kill you... though a lot might feel like it
-[X] Use Black Mirror Incarnation to make yourself look similar, but distinct from Molly Carpenter
-[X] Subterfuge excellency, Etiquette Excellency if needed. All Things Betray with Willpower.
-[X] STUNT: you lean back into your seat, momentarily hidden from view by father Forthill. When next you move, exiting the car, it's Margret Smith, who is smiling at Detective Murphy's relative, and definitely not Molly Carpenter. Not with that bearing, grace or looks, which, while similar from a distance, are those of an older woman with a different eye color and different subtle details. It's possible that she's a distant cousin, but that's all.
This is kinda late, but I had written most of it two days ago.
Will try to catch up on the others.
I dont think either the canon Dresdenverse or WoD mechanics support any such thing, but thats my opinion.
Nevertheless, it does nothing for the state of mind that it promotes.
And it significantly expands the attack surface for hostile actors to strike at said casters.
===
Yes I am.
They have been about for more than a thousand years, they have accumulated allies and and given preptime can be as effective and wield as much influence as the setting's heavy hitters. Even their non-violent opposition is a major issue. They dont have to win a fight for us to lose it.
We live in a society, and they are a major load-bearing element of the setting.
Not blowing them up by mistake is kinda important.
The Blackstaff not so much.
But its notable that none of them carry anything, or are bound to anything that serves as an arcane link to other wizards; neither are does any other senior wizard, even the Merlin.
Their hazard is personal, not factional.
If any of them go bad, the only person compromised is them and people they convince the old-fashioned way; their position does not allow them to compromise the free will or arcane defenses of others.
Just like wizards do not swear oaths to the Council or the Merlin that might weaken them if they disobey.
Thats deliberate. To avoid the kind of concentration of power and loyalty that makes a target extra juicy.
Your proposal would change that.
=====
My dear fellow, the Black Council put either a dupe or a collaborator on the Senior Council in canon.
Given senior wizard paranoia about having someone adopt custody of Demonreach, its not the first time someone in a position of power has gone Bad.
The wizards do not want to emulate the vulnerabilities in Fae Court setup if they can at all avoid it.
Morgan and Luccio carry swords almost exclusively, despite Morgan allegedly fighting in WW1.
Carlos carries a sword, but in addition, carries grenades and a semiautomatic; in Dead Beat it was a Glock, but by White Night he'd moved on to carrying a Desert Eagle.
Dresden carries a series of ever heavier caliber revolvers, going from a .38 cal in Book 1 to a .50 cal in Book 15.
The fun bit, is that a revolver is allegedly mechanically more complex than the semi auto that Carlos carries around.
And the .500 Smith and Wessons Dresden is currently carrying was designed in 2003.
But Harry perceives it as more reliable, s o he's walking around with a modern weapon.
Meantime, the Desert Eagle dates back to 1979, as does the first Glock.
EDIT
You dont even have to go that far.
Dresden has telephone landlines in his office and at home. He uses payphones. Ramirez's family restaurant, which is his regular point of contact, also has a landline.
There's no non-electronic handset that would work on the US telephone system in the 2000s.
Even the analog appearing phones have electronic innards to convert the input to digital signals across the copper backbone.
Yet every wizard onscreen has no issue using them, even Harry.
Its often more along the line of euthanasia; this person has magic rabies, and there's no hope of reversal.
See the first chapter of Proven Guilty again where the Merlin described the process.
Its not immune to politics and political concerns, mind.
===
And its not a way to circumvent the Laws. It slots right into the current regimen with the Doom of Damocles.
Only, instead of the person needing a sponsor willing to risk their life to vouch for them, you cure them and put them on probation with a probation officer.
And is thus much more likely to be accepted.
It also applies to all magic users, from Talents and single-Path casters to sorcerers and Council-tier casters.
Everyone who can use magic, and is thus subject to its Laws.
===
Many people who end up in front of the Council have never gotten any of the training, or blundered into situations where they used too much force. Molly didnt know about the Laws when she hurt Rosie. Harry didnt when he killed DuMorne. Hannah Ascher killed a dude trying to rape her and went on the lam.
Prevention is not an option for them, and will never be.
Furthermore, yours doesnt do prevention anyway.
It just enables Council members to break Laws without immediate consequence; it does fuckall for every other magic user who isnt strong enough enough to be on the Council.
Will try to catch up on the others.
The QM has said, and its their prerogative.
I dont think either the canon Dresdenverse or WoD mechanics support any such thing, but thats my opinion.
Nevertheless, it does nothing for the state of mind that it promotes.
And it significantly expands the attack surface for hostile actors to strike at said casters.
===
Yes I am.
They have been about for more than a thousand years, they have accumulated allies and and given preptime can be as effective and wield as much influence as the setting's heavy hitters. Even their non-violent opposition is a major issue. They dont have to win a fight for us to lose it.
We live in a society, and they are a major load-bearing element of the setting.
Not blowing them up by mistake is kinda important.
The Gatekeeper is definitely an obvious point of failure, which is why he's literally got a magic eye.
The Blackstaff not so much.
But its notable that none of them carry anything, or are bound to anything that serves as an arcane link to other wizards; neither are does any other senior wizard, even the Merlin.
Their hazard is personal, not factional.
If any of them go bad, the only person compromised is them and people they convince the old-fashioned way; their position does not allow them to compromise the free will or arcane defenses of others.
Just like wizards do not swear oaths to the Council or the Merlin that might weaken them if they disobey.
Thats deliberate. To avoid the kind of concentration of power and loyalty that makes a target extra juicy.
Your proposal would change that.
=====
My dear fellow, the Black Council put either a dupe or a collaborator on the Senior Council in canon.
Given senior wizard paranoia about having someone adopt custody of Demonreach, its not the first time someone in a position of power has gone Bad.
The wizards do not want to emulate the vulnerabilities in Fae Court setup if they can at all avoid it.
This is not actually true. See the generational differences in combat loadout between the Wardens.
Morgan and Luccio carry swords almost exclusively, despite Morgan allegedly fighting in WW1.
Carlos carries a sword, but in addition, carries grenades and a semiautomatic; in Dead Beat it was a Glock, but by White Night he'd moved on to carrying a Desert Eagle.
Dresden carries a series of ever heavier caliber revolvers, going from a .38 cal in Book 1 to a .50 cal in Book 15.
The fun bit, is that a revolver is allegedly mechanically more complex than the semi auto that Carlos carries around.
And the .500 Smith and Wessons Dresden is currently carrying was designed in 2003.
But Harry perceives it as more reliable, s o he's walking around with a modern weapon.
Meantime, the Desert Eagle dates back to 1979, as does the first Glock.
EDIT
You dont even have to go that far.
Dresden has telephone landlines in his office and at home. He uses payphones. Ramirez's family restaurant, which is his regular point of contact, also has a landline.
There's no non-electronic handset that would work on the US telephone system in the 2000s.
Even the analog appearing phones have electronic innards to convert the input to digital signals across the copper backbone.
Yet every wizard onscreen has no issue using them, even Harry.
Its not restorative justice, nor is it really deterrence. The Council makes it clear they will execute people for breaking the Laws, but they do not exactly publicize or glamorize the process thereof.
Its often more along the line of euthanasia; this person has magic rabies, and there's no hope of reversal.
See the first chapter of Proven Guilty again where the Merlin described the process.
Its not immune to politics and political concerns, mind.
===
And its not a way to circumvent the Laws. It slots right into the current regimen with the Doom of Damocles.
Only, instead of the person needing a sponsor willing to risk their life to vouch for them, you cure them and put them on probation with a probation officer.
And is thus much more likely to be accepted.
It also applies to all magic users, from Talents and single-Path casters to sorcerers and Council-tier casters.
Everyone who can use magic, and is thus subject to its Laws.
===
Many people who end up in front of the Council have never gotten any of the training, or blundered into situations where they used too much force. Molly didnt know about the Laws when she hurt Rosie. Harry didnt when he killed DuMorne. Hannah Ascher killed a dude trying to rape her and went on the lam.
Prevention is not an option for them, and will never be.
Furthermore, yours doesnt do prevention anyway.
It just enables Council members to break Laws without immediate consequence; it does fuckall for every other magic user who isnt strong enough enough to be on the Council.
[X] Plan Woman With a Thousand Faces
Yeah. Or for a scientific paper, or a personal project.The paper is for a university assignment, then?
Why? Blackstaff is a unique artifact.Hell, unlike what we make, it's not even magically bound to anyone. It can be stolen, broken, possibly itself cursed.
For volunteers only. You want protection against Lawbreaking corruption and leniency? Make yourself unable to breach them via ancient sorcery. If you don't want to? Business as usual, nothing changes.
Different personal preferences in weaponry are not (or at least very weak) evidence of techbane's expression being personalized. Techbane is not personalized. There are wizards alive who went through techbane expression changing as times changed.
It would be a far harder sell than preventing someone from becoming corrupted in the first place. Doom of Damocles is part nepotism, part political compromise to prevent powerful members of the council from rebelling against it / harboring ill will towards it. Healing corruption would be helpful, but in the paradigm of "there are good wizards, and there are lawbreaking warlocks" it would not be an easy sell at all. Certainly harder than what I am proposing. Especially because at the first glance it itself looks like lawbreaking (specifically mind alteration).
Why? What's stopping from disseminating pigeons to basically everyone?
[X] Push through, a little awkwardness won't kill you... though a lot might feel like it
BoredMan
Maintaining the Agenda is our top priority
The black magic corruption induced when you break a Law is a fundamental reality of the setting. A rather shitty one that results in the WC killing kids and people who really didn't know any better to begin with. If trying to fix that somehow results in "blowing the Council up" because they need the corruption aspect of black magic to exist then they have it coming.
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Thank you for the citation.
I found the relevant passage in Changes, and its a lot more nuanced than I recall:
Luccio marched me down a tunnel I had never seen before, took a few turns into the darker hallways lit only by light she called to hang in the air around us, and then opened a door into a warm, firelit room. It looked like a den. There was a large fireplace crackling, several candles lit, and a lot of comfortable furniture scattered around in solitary nooks and in groups, so that one could have as much or as little conversational company as one wished. There was also a bar. A very large, very well-stocked bar.
"Oh," Molly said, as she came in behind me. "Cozy."
Anastasia let go of my arm and marched straight to the bar. She got down a bottle of black glass and poured amber fluid into three shot glasses. She brought them to a nearby table, gestured for us to sit, and then put all three glasses in the middle of the table, leaving it to us to choose which we would drink—two centuries of Warden-level paranoia tends to sink into your bones.
I sat down at the table. I took a glass and downed it. The liquor left a scouring heat in my chest as it went down, and I wanted it.
Anastasia took hers and made it vanish without twitching an eye-lash. Molly looked at her glass, took a polite sip, and said, to the other woman's amused glance, "Somebody should be the designated . . . not driver, but sober person."
"Harry," Anastasia said, turning to me. "What you did today was dangerous."
"I could take the bitch," I growled.
"There's no way for us to know how old Arianna is," she contradicted, "because humanity hasn't had a written language for that long. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
I pushed my empty glass away with my fingers and said, "I could take the prehistoric bitch." I looked around the room for a moment and said, "What is this place?"
Anastasia leaned back in her chair and spread her hands, palms up. "Welcome to the Worry Room."
"Worry Room, huh."
She quirked an eyebrow. "Didn't you see the bar?"
Molly giggled, and suppressed it. "Sorry."
Anastasia's voice turned faintly ironic. "It's a place where we crusty old Wardens can go when we're sick of the softhearted wizards who are so lily-livered that they want us to permit wayward children with enough talent to go warlock to live instead of executing them. Like your apprentice, here. I guarantee you some drinks were poured in this room and bitter words said about how we would regret it after her trial."
I grunted. "Were you pouring, drinking, or talking?"
She shrugged. "If not for her, then for plenty of others. I was here when Morgan drank himself into a stupor after your trial, Harry."
"No wonder it feels so cozy."
She smiled tightly. "It's likely the most private and secure room in the complex."
"Paranoia Central is only likely free of spies? You guys are getting sloppy."
"Dammit, Harry." Luccio shook her head. "You've done the Warden job for a while. Or most of it. You still think that the Wardens never have a reason for acting as . . . decisively as they sometimes do?"
I sighed. Life is never simple. I had railed against the Wardens for years for killing children, young men and women who had gone warlock, lost control of their magical talents and their minds by indulging in black magic. Then I had seen the results of a few warlocks on a spree. They were ugly. Ugly, ugly, ugly. "You've got good reason," I said. "Doesn't mean I have to like it. Doesn't make it right."
"Not everyone is so far over the edge they can't come back," Molly added softly. "Sometimes people just . . . just get lost. They just need someone to show them how to come back."
"Yes. And in the time it takes to make that distinction, a lot of innocent people have died, Miss Carpenter," Anastasia said, her tone frank and gentle. "The human population has expanded with unthinkable speed in the past two centuries. More and more wizard-level talents are being born. Every time one of them goes warlock, we have less and less time to confront the problem—and nowhere near enough help."
"Prevention," I said. "Find them early and they don't go warlock."
"Resources." She sighed. We'd had this talk before. "If the entire Council did nothing but Warden duty, full-time, it still wouldn't be enough."
"Education," I said. "Use the Paranet. Get the smaller talents to help identify the gifted."
She smiled at me and said, "I'm still building support for it. It's a good idea, Harry. It might even work. The problem is making some of the others in the Council understand it. They see it only as a security risk, especially after Peabody. But it's a good idea. Its time will come—eventually."
I grunted. I was quiet for a moment, and then I said, "Familiar argument, huh? Give me some routine. Calm me down. Is that it?"
"Anxiety, anger, and agitation cloud the mind. That's why the Worry Room is here." She smiled faintly. "I'm well aware of what it looks like when a wizard has been pushed to the brink." She poured the two of us another shot and said, "So why don't you tell me how the prehistoric bitch did it to you."
I took the glass without drinking. "She took a little girl."
"Vampires take a lot of children," Anastasia said. "What makes this one so special?"
I said nothing. Silence reigned. I looked up and met her eyes.
Anastasia and I had seen each other for a while. She knew me better than most. She studied my face for maybe half a second, and then took a deep breath. "Harry," she said, "don't say anything about this to anyone you don't trust with your life."
I gave her a small, bitter smile and nodded. Knowledge was power. Anyone who knew Maggie was my daughter might use her for leverage against me. Anastasia wouldn't, not for any reason—but others on the White Council would. Oh, they'd probably use softer gloves than Arianna had: I could just see being offered money to help support Maggie, give her access to nice schools, a privileged upbringing, and everything a father could want for his child—so that the offer could be withdrawn if I didn't play ball. After all, these were the good guys.
"Oh," Molly said, as she came in behind me. "Cozy."
Anastasia let go of my arm and marched straight to the bar. She got down a bottle of black glass and poured amber fluid into three shot glasses. She brought them to a nearby table, gestured for us to sit, and then put all three glasses in the middle of the table, leaving it to us to choose which we would drink—two centuries of Warden-level paranoia tends to sink into your bones.
I sat down at the table. I took a glass and downed it. The liquor left a scouring heat in my chest as it went down, and I wanted it.
Anastasia took hers and made it vanish without twitching an eye-lash. Molly looked at her glass, took a polite sip, and said, to the other woman's amused glance, "Somebody should be the designated . . . not driver, but sober person."
"Harry," Anastasia said, turning to me. "What you did today was dangerous."
"I could take the bitch," I growled.
"There's no way for us to know how old Arianna is," she contradicted, "because humanity hasn't had a written language for that long. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
I pushed my empty glass away with my fingers and said, "I could take the prehistoric bitch." I looked around the room for a moment and said, "What is this place?"
Anastasia leaned back in her chair and spread her hands, palms up. "Welcome to the Worry Room."
"Worry Room, huh."
She quirked an eyebrow. "Didn't you see the bar?"
Molly giggled, and suppressed it. "Sorry."
Anastasia's voice turned faintly ironic. "It's a place where we crusty old Wardens can go when we're sick of the softhearted wizards who are so lily-livered that they want us to permit wayward children with enough talent to go warlock to live instead of executing them. Like your apprentice, here. I guarantee you some drinks were poured in this room and bitter words said about how we would regret it after her trial."
I grunted. "Were you pouring, drinking, or talking?"
She shrugged. "If not for her, then for plenty of others. I was here when Morgan drank himself into a stupor after your trial, Harry."
"No wonder it feels so cozy."
She smiled tightly. "It's likely the most private and secure room in the complex."
"Paranoia Central is only likely free of spies? You guys are getting sloppy."
"Dammit, Harry." Luccio shook her head. "You've done the Warden job for a while. Or most of it. You still think that the Wardens never have a reason for acting as . . . decisively as they sometimes do?"
I sighed. Life is never simple. I had railed against the Wardens for years for killing children, young men and women who had gone warlock, lost control of their magical talents and their minds by indulging in black magic. Then I had seen the results of a few warlocks on a spree. They were ugly. Ugly, ugly, ugly. "You've got good reason," I said. "Doesn't mean I have to like it. Doesn't make it right."
"Not everyone is so far over the edge they can't come back," Molly added softly. "Sometimes people just . . . just get lost. They just need someone to show them how to come back."
"Yes. And in the time it takes to make that distinction, a lot of innocent people have died, Miss Carpenter," Anastasia said, her tone frank and gentle. "The human population has expanded with unthinkable speed in the past two centuries. More and more wizard-level talents are being born. Every time one of them goes warlock, we have less and less time to confront the problem—and nowhere near enough help."
"Prevention," I said. "Find them early and they don't go warlock."
"Resources." She sighed. We'd had this talk before. "If the entire Council did nothing but Warden duty, full-time, it still wouldn't be enough."
"Education," I said. "Use the Paranet. Get the smaller talents to help identify the gifted."
She smiled at me and said, "I'm still building support for it. It's a good idea, Harry. It might even work. The problem is making some of the others in the Council understand it. They see it only as a security risk, especially after Peabody. But it's a good idea. Its time will come—eventually."
I grunted. I was quiet for a moment, and then I said, "Familiar argument, huh? Give me some routine. Calm me down. Is that it?"
"Anxiety, anger, and agitation cloud the mind. That's why the Worry Room is here." She smiled faintly. "I'm well aware of what it looks like when a wizard has been pushed to the brink." She poured the two of us another shot and said, "So why don't you tell me how the prehistoric bitch did it to you."
I took the glass without drinking. "She took a little girl."
"Vampires take a lot of children," Anastasia said. "What makes this one so special?"
I said nothing. Silence reigned. I looked up and met her eyes.
Anastasia and I had seen each other for a while. She knew me better than most. She studied my face for maybe half a second, and then took a deep breath. "Harry," she said, "don't say anything about this to anyone you don't trust with your life."
I gave her a small, bitter smile and nodded. Knowledge was power. Anyone who knew Maggie was my daughter might use her for leverage against me. Anastasia wouldn't, not for any reason—but others on the White Council would. Oh, they'd probably use softer gloves than Arianna had: I could just see being offered money to help support Maggie, give her access to nice schools, a privileged upbringing, and everything a father could want for his child—so that the offer could be withdrawn if I didn't play ball. After all, these were the good guys.
But he doesnt campaign about it in the Council.
There is no indication that the junior Wardens have an opinion, and a lot of the elder wizards that Luccio talked to appear to consider it to be too much of a security risk after Peabody.
I dont agree.
Entirely too much has changed; the modern financial and economic system is a post-WW2 invention, and there are entire classes of economic actors that didnt become significant actors, or sometimes even exist, until the latter half of the 20th century.
I would go as far as asserting that economic warfare takes no cues from pre-20th century experience.
Especially if your goals also involve avoiding public attention while doing this.
Some dont know, like Molly and Dresden himself.
Some are pushed to it, like Hannah Ascher killing people who allegedly tried to rape her, then Wardens trying to arrest her.
I dont really agree.
You are training reflexes and ways of thinking that do not go away, even for senior wizards.
Even for the Blackstaff.
Like I said previously, Ebenezar killed Dresden's doppelganger on instinct, even when he wasnt carrying the Blackstaff.
When he thought that doppelganger was Dresden himself.
The old man stomp-kicked me in the center of the chest, driving the wind out of my lungs with a sickly gasp and slamming my shoulder blades and the back of my skull against the dock.
Ebenezar shoved the end of his staff against my Adam's apple with a snarl and said, "Yield!"
"No," I croaked.
The old man's eyes widened. "Dammit, boy, you are about to make me angry."
"Go ahead," I said, baring my teeth. "Do it. Kill me. Because that's what it's going to take."
His jaw clenched, and he slowly bared his teeth. " You … arrogant … foolish, egomaniacal drama queen!"
"I'm not the one who flew in on a baby mountain!" I complained.
He shoved the staff a quarter inch forward.
"Glurk," I said.
His face was red. Too red. The veins stood out sharply in his head, his neck.
And the ground was shaking. I could feel it through the dock.
When he spoke, his voice came out in a register so calm and measured that it completely terrified me. If he was doing that, it was because he was employing mental discipline techniques to contain his, gulp, rage.
"I will ask you a question," he said. "You will answer me, clearly and honestly. Nod if you understand."
I nodded. Glurk.
"How did they get to you, boy?" he asked, his voice still unnaturally calm. "What do they have on you? It can't be so bad that I can't help you get out of it." His eyes softened for just a second. "Talk to me."
I glanced down at the end of his staff.
"Ah," he said, and took the pressure off.
I swallowed a couple of times. Then I croaked, "They don't have anything on me."
His eyes went furious again, and …
And tears formed in them.
Oh God.
"Then why?" he demanded. The calm in his voice was fraying. "Why are you doing this? Why are you destroying yourself for that thing?"
I knew exactly what I was about to do.
But he deserved the truth. Had to have it, really.
"Because I've only got one brother," I said. "And I'm not going to lose him."
The old man went very still.
"Mom," I said in a dull, flat voice. "She gave each of us one of her amulets, with a memory recorded on them, so we'd know each other."
Ebenezar's mouth opened and closed a few times.
"Half brother, technically," I said. "But blood all the same. He's got my back. I've got his. That's all there is to it."
The old man closed his eyes.
"You' re … saying … that pig, Raith … with my daughter."
The ground shook harder. The surface of the lake began to dance, droplets flying up.
"Sir," I said, trying to keep my voice calm, "you have a second grandson."
If I'd punched him, I don't think I could have staggered him more. He fell back a step. He started shaking his head.
I sat up. "Look, whatever happened, it's over now. Thomas didn't have anything to do with that. But he has saved my life on multiple occasions. He is not your enemy, sir." I blinked my eyes a couple of times. "He's family."
And the night went still.
"Family," came the old man's voice, a primordial growl lurking in it. "One. Of those things."
He whirled toward the retreating boat, barely visible from the shore by now, and his staff burst into incandescent blue flame as he lifted it in his right hand, the hand that projects energy, drawing it back.
"No!" I shouted, and lurched toward him.
He spun, eyes surrounded by white, his face scarlet, his teeth bared in a snarl, snapping his staff out …
And what looked like a comet about the size of a quarter, blazing like a star, leapt from the staff, like some kind of bizarre random static spark, and plunged into my ribs and out my spine.
I tumbled down to the dock on my back, the stars suddenly unusually bright above me.
I tried to breathe.
Nothing much happened.
"Ach, God," the old man whispered, his breath creaking.
His staff clattered to the dock. It sounded like it came from very far away.
Ebenezar shoved the end of his staff against my Adam's apple with a snarl and said, "Yield!"
"No," I croaked.
The old man's eyes widened. "Dammit, boy, you are about to make me angry."
"Go ahead," I said, baring my teeth. "Do it. Kill me. Because that's what it's going to take."
His jaw clenched, and he slowly bared his teeth. " You … arrogant … foolish, egomaniacal drama queen!"
"I'm not the one who flew in on a baby mountain!" I complained.
He shoved the staff a quarter inch forward.
"Glurk," I said.
His face was red. Too red. The veins stood out sharply in his head, his neck.
And the ground was shaking. I could feel it through the dock.
When he spoke, his voice came out in a register so calm and measured that it completely terrified me. If he was doing that, it was because he was employing mental discipline techniques to contain his, gulp, rage.
"I will ask you a question," he said. "You will answer me, clearly and honestly. Nod if you understand."
I nodded. Glurk.
"How did they get to you, boy?" he asked, his voice still unnaturally calm. "What do they have on you? It can't be so bad that I can't help you get out of it." His eyes softened for just a second. "Talk to me."
I glanced down at the end of his staff.
"Ah," he said, and took the pressure off.
I swallowed a couple of times. Then I croaked, "They don't have anything on me."
His eyes went furious again, and …
And tears formed in them.
Oh God.
"Then why?" he demanded. The calm in his voice was fraying. "Why are you doing this? Why are you destroying yourself for that thing?"
I knew exactly what I was about to do.
But he deserved the truth. Had to have it, really.
"Because I've only got one brother," I said. "And I'm not going to lose him."
The old man went very still.
"Mom," I said in a dull, flat voice. "She gave each of us one of her amulets, with a memory recorded on them, so we'd know each other."
Ebenezar's mouth opened and closed a few times.
"Half brother, technically," I said. "But blood all the same. He's got my back. I've got his. That's all there is to it."
The old man closed his eyes.
"You' re … saying … that pig, Raith … with my daughter."
The ground shook harder. The surface of the lake began to dance, droplets flying up.
"Sir," I said, trying to keep my voice calm, "you have a second grandson."
If I'd punched him, I don't think I could have staggered him more. He fell back a step. He started shaking his head.
I sat up. "Look, whatever happened, it's over now. Thomas didn't have anything to do with that. But he has saved my life on multiple occasions. He is not your enemy, sir." I blinked my eyes a couple of times. "He's family."
And the night went still.
"Family," came the old man's voice, a primordial growl lurking in it. "One. Of those things."
He whirled toward the retreating boat, barely visible from the shore by now, and his staff burst into incandescent blue flame as he lifted it in his right hand, the hand that projects energy, drawing it back.
"No!" I shouted, and lurched toward him.
He spun, eyes surrounded by white, his face scarlet, his teeth bared in a snarl, snapping his staff out …
And what looked like a comet about the size of a quarter, blazing like a star, leapt from the staff, like some kind of bizarre random static spark, and plunged into my ribs and out my spine.
I tumbled down to the dock on my back, the stars suddenly unusually bright above me.
I tried to breathe.
Nothing much happened.
"Ach, God," the old man whispered, his breath creaking.
His staff clattered to the dock. It sounded like it came from very far away.
And yes, thats prima facie evidence of physical enhancement spells of some sort.
Because when a short, stocky, ~300-year old man beats the physical fuck out of his late 30s, six foot nine grandson who is also channeling the Winter Knight Mantle in a quarterstaff fight? That requires literally superhuman physical performance.
Point of correction:
They can report to Wardens they know, just like any civilian in the know can approach a Warden.
The difference? Is that they are not Council affiliates, and the Council has no official hand in them. The Council does not recognize them as an organization or affiliate, and is not obliged or obligated to respond.
IIRC, they dont even have the Council's phone number.
When the rakshasa attacked a bunch of Council-aligned temples in Asia in White Night, Ebenezar and Morgan took a lot of the Wardens and went to Asia to stomp his face in.
When the Venatori came under attack in Proven Guilty, the Council moved major forces to assist.
This level of response never happened for the Paranet.
Even during the Fomor War. Individual Wardens in North America would respond to reports and alarms as they could, but the Council's focus was on the major areas of operations elsewhere.
Which was why the primary response forces were Marcone's and Lara Raith's mercenaries.
COMMENTARY
Aerial surveillance does not mean the US government. There's multiple local airfields within an hour's drive of Chicago where any pilot can rent a private plane for overflights of the countryside; Marcone himself owns an ex-Coast Guard helicopter.
And that's assuming the person in question cant actually fly.
So someone appears to be aiming to assassinate Sigurd Gard.
Someone who both has the raw magical power/resources, and is willing to draw aggro from Odin and his people.
Or dumb enough to think they could hide their involvement.
Given as Gard is on contract to Marcone, that means we are looking at potentially
-An enemy of Marcone trying to trim his resources before going after him
-An enemy of Gard
-An enemy of Odin trying to do him an injury.
Thats a very long list of potential perps.
It bears noting that advertising a sale is just going to give the perp an excuse to send someone to take a look at the cottage defenses up close.
Just hire people to pose as potential buyers and come knock on the door.
COMMENTARY
Gonna note that Karrin is one of two Knight candidates for Fidelacchius in Chicago
With the second being Butters, who we havent met yet.
Sanctuary Martial Arts seems appropriate. She's already a martial artist of some skill and experience in multiple disciplines, so most of the skills would transfer. Awakened Po is a hard no, because it would require her handing over significant control to an outside authority. Which is not something she'd agree to; conflicts of interest would preclude it.
Loling at how quickly Karrin has been converted to the "lets not tell other people" side of the force.
COMMENTARY
Hmm.
Red Dodge Magnum is probably Rich's. Am guessing they have got kids now, which would explain the dadwagon.
Not sure if we came here in Murphy's Saturn, or Molly's Mercedes CLS.
If we came here in Molly's Merc, then a disguise is frankly superfluous.
FBI Agent Rick can run the plates if he so chooses
Not particularly seeing it.
Conflict-avoidant, sure, but we dont really see anything else.
There's definitely implications that Karrin has a history there.
Middle class Irish Catholic kids dont generally go off and get married at 17 to guys in their late 20s without issues, but how many are issues with other people and how many are her own is unclear.
This is reinforced by the fact that her first ex-husband didnt tell her he was dying of cancer until she saw the obituary in the newspaper. Despite this being the guy that she allegedly tried to get back with several times.
Lisa has youngest child syndrome, and is used to being indulged.
Rick has fewer excuses; the man is in his late 30s. Still quite messy to marry your ex's younger sister, but not the worst thing in the world.
The really egregious thing there was that neither of them thought to tell her beforehand that
I can understand the rest of the family trying to avoid getting in the crossfire.
But neither of them telling Karrin about it beforehand is a dick move.
That said, this doesnt mean Karrin is blameless here.
If your first ex-husband doesnt tell you he's dying despite you both being in the same city, and then your second ex-husband hooks up with your younger sister without telling you, and none of your siblings calls to give you a heads up, the commonality here is you. Girl isnt perfect, and there's certainly hints that she was a handful as a younger girl/woman.
Not that its all on her; apparently her mother was so strict with her she had to sneak out of the house to go to prom.
Family drama is the worst.
Lisa Murphy was only a month shy of 21, according to the timeline. Also, they were only engaged as of Blood Rites, not married.
Am assuming they are married now.
Karrin herself married her first husband as a teenager.
At 17, to be exact; the dude appeared to be a decade or so older, according to Dresden, and 12 years older, according to the Timeline. George Taggart died at 43, when Karrin was 31.
She REALLY has no standing to lecture her sister about marrying older men.
About marrying her ex, sure, but its pretty clear that Lisa has sister issues.
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I cant see the point of this.
FBI Agent Rick and the late Lt Greene cornered Molly and interrogated her illegally at the hotel.
They didnt give her a lawyer, or notify her parents.
Molly had committed no crime then. She has no reason to hide her face or identity.
Introducing herself as Margaret Smith simply puts Murphy and Father Forthill in a position where they have to lie.
Unnecessarily.
Plus, Mama Murphy might be a useful person to know in her own cognizance.
The extended Murphy clan has multiple law enforcement people in it, who
Hiding her face denies her those contacts.
====
VOTE
[X] Push through, a little awkwardness won't kill you... though a lot might feel like it
-[X] Empathy/Etiquette Excellencies + All Things Betray as necessary
RATIONALE
She is an Exalt with Empathy 5, Etiquette 5 and social Excellencies.
These are mortals. Molly is going to be throwing roughly 18 dice of social in this encounter if she bothers.
I can see absolutely zero reason to hide.
1) Make it a bit easier on Murphy. I think not being Molly would be less awkward here
2) This bit here is my paranoia - I wouldn't put it past Rick being Daedalus. In fact, from HUMINT angle, it would make a lot of sense for him to be recruited by Daedalus. Even if he isn't, Molly is a person of interest, I am fairly sure of it. If only due to personal history.
3) Not being Molly should make it easier to get info, I feel, again, due to Molly being known to some of the people present. And known in a bad light.
As to rolling over people - tell that to Charity. Who is a mortal.
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It would strongly incentivize her to hand over control, but she could just eat the penalty of being a Fomori. Molly is not Pentex, it would be unpleasant surviving as a fomori derived from her power without Mercy in Servitude, but Murphy has willpower 8, she could give it a damn good go.
1) You are making Karrin Murphy lie to her mother and any other family members there. That makes things harder, not easier.
Murphy has brought Harry Dresden to a family gathering. Y'know, the Dresden thats been arrested before.
Including by Karrin herself.
Molly really isnt an issue, especially in the company of a Catholic priest.
2) Doesnt really matter if he's Daedalus or not.
He first met Dresden back in Blood Rites, 3 years ago. If he's Daedalus, he would already know about us and our family; Michael and Dresden worked together in Chicago. Have been arrested together in Chicago.
And Daedalus generally have no interest in family genealogy and school projects.
3) Mama Murphy, Rick and Lisa all know Murphy well enough to have bonuses against her Subterfuge rolls.
And Rick is FBI, so he has a good chance of seeing through Father Forthill as well.
You are going to make things interesting enough for them to ask questions. Which we dont want.
TLDR
Using Black Mirror creates problems for everybody here.
You want to make the Catholic priest LIE about Molly's identity.
You want to make Murphy lie to her mother, who if she's anything like Charity, can see through her daughter easily.
This is a bad idea.
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- Pronouns
- ImBuda
University asigment, was probably explained wrong by Murphy by mistake.
Even without MiS?
Molly has Demonic Primacy, and this would mean that Murphy would find herself having issues making arguments disputing the wishes/intentions of Molly C.
And with Molly telling her this upfront, I cant see her taking it.
Which university?
We know nothing about the local universities, or which course would give that sort of assignment, or the citation standards for university assignments. Nor do we know what, if any, our audience knows. And the Murphy clan is big, and has links in a lot of places. Lisa Murphy, for example, is about the right age to be in university or just graduating.
Dont lie when it isnt necessary.
Else you end up telling bigger and bigger lies to cover up the first one.
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Murphy is going to be lying to her family anyway, if by omission. And she never brought Dresden in a professional (ie magic) capacity. Molly is magical enough, strange enough, that there will be lies anyway.
Daedalus would certainly quickly gain interest if Molly Carpenter started digging into it, especially with a catholic priest in tow.
Murphy is going to be lying anyway. She'll be uncomfortable here.
Good night guys, see you tomorrow with, one of the two cops who once interrogated Molly, the alive one that is.