boo600
Ego sum egredietur tempestas.
- Location
- Texas
- Pronouns
- He/Him/Hungry
Jesus fucking Christ yes. Thank you, Yog. I keep looking at the system and seeing restrictions and maximum effects, but you've gotten the usage of this system down pat.
Green Flame Rising (Exalted vs Dresden Files)
- Thread starter DragonParadox
- Start date
- Crossover Fantasy
Jesus fucking Christ yes. Thank you, Yog. I keep looking at the system and seeing restrictions and maximum effects, but you've gotten the usage of this system down pat.
fictionfan
Please sir, may I have some Meows?
- Location
- Tempe, AZ
VOTE
[X] Confront the watcher
Demonic Primacy of Essence makes the difference when you're dealing with lesser CoDs.
Even without using an Excellency.
=====
Couple extra points worth making
Sophia can probably fix dhampirs. The Gift Exorcism is supposed to be strong enough to fix fomori by ejecting Banes; it will probably fix a Red Court dhampir's Hunger. Thing is that if the person has outlived their natural lifespan, they are going to die if you exorcise their Hunger demon.
Unless there's a healer or a magic user that can fix that.
=====
The Fellowship leadership arent going to be opposed to what is essentially a retirement option.
Not everyone is able to maintain the discipline required to remain human.
Having a fallback option isnt actually a bad idea, and is a preferable option to having to kill people who fell off the wagon.
=====
Molly was canonically something of a fan of Susan Rodriguez's relationship with Dresden, as you can read in Death Masks.
She is specifically, personally responsible for the conception and birth of Maggie Dresden because she gave Harry the idea of bondage as a means of making a dhampir safe.
=====
Harry is nowhere as socially inept as some people suggest.
He has specific issues with authority figures and people who present as authority figures. And he usually defaults to refusing to engage socially with supernaturals with superior social skills due to hardwon experience.
But he's otherwise largely socially functional.
One of his first jobs in Chicago was ballroom dancing with seniors, and charming them, which he was apparently good at.
People exaggerate his deficits.
[X] Confront the watcher
Demonic Primacy of Essence makes the difference when you're dealing with lesser CoDs.
Even without using an Excellency.
=====
Couple extra points worth making
Sophia can probably fix dhampirs. The Gift Exorcism is supposed to be strong enough to fix fomori by ejecting Banes; it will probably fix a Red Court dhampir's Hunger. Thing is that if the person has outlived their natural lifespan, they are going to die if you exorcise their Hunger demon.
Unless there's a healer or a magic user that can fix that.
=====
The Fellowship leadership arent going to be opposed to what is essentially a retirement option.
Not everyone is able to maintain the discipline required to remain human.
Having a fallback option isnt actually a bad idea, and is a preferable option to having to kill people who fell off the wagon.
=====
Molly was canonically something of a fan of Susan Rodriguez's relationship with Dresden, as you can read in Death Masks.
She is specifically, personally responsible for the conception and birth of Maggie Dresden because she gave Harry the idea of bondage as a means of making a dhampir safe.
The heavy footsteps padded up to the fence at the back of the yard, and I heard the scrape of chain link dragging against dry leaves and other late-winter detritus. I heard a muted grunt of effort and a long exhalation. Then the footsteps came to the base of the tree.
Leather scraped against a wooden step, and the tree shivered almost imperceptibly. Someone was climbing up.
I looked around me but the ladder was the only way down, unless I felt like jumping. It couldn't have been more than nine or ten feet down. Odds were I could land more or less in one piece. But if I misjudged the jump I could sprain an ankle or break a leg, which would make running away both impractical and embarrassing. Jumping would have to be a last resort.
I gathered in my will and settled my grip on my blasting rod, pointing it directly at where the ladder met the platform. The tip of the blasting rod glowed with a pinpoint of bright red energy.
Blond hair and the top half of a girl's angelic young face appeared at the top of the ladder. There was a quiet gasp and her blue eyes widened. "Holy crap."
I jerked the tip of the blasting rod up and away from the girl, releasing the gathered energy. "Molly?"
The rest of the girl's face appeared as she climbed on up the ladder. "Wow, is that an acetylene torch or something?"
I blinked and peered more closely at Molly. "Is that an earring in your eyebrow?"
The girl clapped her fingers over her right eyebrow.
"And your nose?"
Molly shot a furtive look over her shoulder at the house, and scrambled the rest of the way up to the tree house. As tall as her mother, Molly was all coltish legs and long arms. She wore a typical private-school uniform of skirt, blouse, and sweater-but it looked like she'd been attacked by a lech with razor blades where fingers should have been.
The skirt was essentially slashed to ribbons, and underneath it she wore black tights, also torn to nigh indecency. Her shirt and sweater had apparently endured the Blitz, but the bright red satin bra that peeked out from beneath looked new. She had on too much makeup. Not as bad as most kids too old to play tag but too young to drive, but it was there. She wore a ring of fine gold wire through one pale gold eyebrow, and a golden stud protruded from one side of her nose.
I worked hard not to smile. Smiling would have implied that I found her outfit amusing. She was young enough to be hurt by that kind of opinion, and I had a vague memory of being that ridiculous at one time. Let he who hath never worn parachute pants cast the first stone.
Molly clambered in and tossed a bulging backpack down on the wooden floor. "You lurk in tree houses a lot, Mister Dresden?"
"I'm looking for your dad."
Molly wrinkled up her nose, then started removing the stud from it. I didn't want to watch. "I don't want to tell you how to investigate stuff, but generally speaking you won't find him in tree houses."
"I came over, but no one answered the door when I knocked. Is that normal?"
Molly took out the eyebrow ring, dumped the backpack out onto the floorboards, and started sorting out a long skirt with a floral print, a T-shirt, and a sweater. "It is on errands day. Mom loads up the sandcrawler with all the little snot-nosed Jawas and goes all over town."
"Oh. Do you know when she's due back?"
"Anytime," Molly said. She hopped into the skirt, and wriggled out of the tattered skirt and tights in that mystifyingly modest way that girls always seem to manage to acquire sometime in their teens. The shirt and pink sweater went on next, and the ripped up sweater and, to my discomfort, the bright red bra came out from under the conservative clothes and got tucked back into the backpack.
I turned my back on the girl as well as I could in the limited space. The link of handcuff Anna Valmont had slapped onto my wrist chafed and pinched. I scratched at it irritably. You'd think I'd been cuffed enough times that I should have gotten myself a key by now.
Molly took a wet-wipe from somewhere and started peeling the makeup from her face. "Hey," she asked a minute later. "What's wrong?"
I grunted and waved my wrist vaguely, swinging the cuff around.
"Hey, neat," Molly said. "Are you on the lam? Is that why you're hiding in a tree house, so the cops won't find you?"
"No," I said. "It's kind of a long story."
"Ohhhh," Molly said wisely. "Those are fun-time handcuffs, not bad-time handcuffs. I gotcha."
"No!" I protested. "And how the hell would you know about fun-time handcuffs anyway? You're like ten."
She snorted. "Fourteen."
"Whatever, too young."
"Internet," she said sagely. "Expanding the frontiers of adolescent knowledge."
"God, I'm old."
Molly clucked and dipped into the backpack again. She grabbed my wrist firmly, shook out a ring of small keys, and started trying them in the lock of the cuffs. "So give me the juicy details," she said. "You can say 'bleep' instead of the fun words if you want."
I blinked. "Where the bleep did you get a bunch of cuff keys?"
She looked up at me and narrowed her eyes. "Think about this one. Do you really want to know?"
I sighed. "No. Probably not."
"Cool," she said, and turned her attention back to the handcuffs. "So stop dodging the issue. What's up with you and Susan?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"I like romance. Plus I heard Mom say that you two were a pretty hot item."
"Your mom said that?"
Molly shrugged. "Sorta. As much as she ever would. She used words like 'fornication' and 'sin' and 'infantile depravity' and 'moral bankruptcy.' So are you?"
"Morally bankrupt?"
"A hot item with Susan."
I shrugged and said, "Not anymore."
"Don't move your wrist." Molly fiddled with one key for a moment before discarding it. "What happened?"
"A lot," I said. "It's complicated."
"Oh," Molly said. The cuffs clicked and loosened and she beamed up at me. "There."
"Thanks." I rubbed my sore wrist and put the cuffs in my coat pocket.
Molly bent over and picked up a piece of paper. She read it and said, "Ask Michael about duel? Whiskey and tobacco?"
"It's a shopping list."
Molly frowned. "Oh." She was quiet for a moment and then asked, "So was it the vampire thing?"
I blinked at the girl again. "Was there a PBS special or something? Is there some kind of unauthorized biography of my life?"
"I snuck downstairs so I could listen to Dad tell Mom what had happened."
"Do you eavesdrop on every private conversation you can?"
She rolled her eyes and sat down on the edge of the platform, her shoes waving in the air. "No one says anything interesting in a public conversation, do they? Why did you guys split up?"
I sat down next to her. "Like I said. It was complicated."
"Complicated how?"
I shrugged. "Her condition gives her - an impulse-control problem," I said. "She told me that strong emotions and uh, other feelings, are dangerous for her. She could lose control and hurt someone."
"Oh," Molly said, and scrunched up her nose again. "So you can't make a play for her or-"
"Bad things could happen. And then she'd be a full vampire."
"But you both want to be together?" Molly asked.
"Yeah."
She frowned. "God, that's sad. You want to be with her but the sex part-"
I shuddered. "Ewg. You are far too young to say that word."
The girl's eyes shone. "What word? Sex?"
I put my hands over my ears. "Gah."
Molly grinned and enunciated. "But the bleep part would make her lose control."
I coughed uncomfortably, lowering my hands. "Basically. Yeah."
"Why don't you tie her up?"
I stared at the kid for a second.
She lifted her eyebrows expectantly.
"What?" I stammered.
"It's only practical," Molly stated firmly. "And hey, you've already got the handcuffs. If she can't move while the two of you are bleeping, she can't drink your blood, right?"
I stood up and started climbing down the ladder. "This conversation has become way too bleeping disturbing."
Molly laughed at me and followed me back to the ground. She unlocked the back door with another key, presumably from the same ring, and that was when Charity's light blue minivan turned into the driveway. Molly opened the door, darted into the house, and returned without her backpack. The minivan ground to a halt and the engine died.
Leather scraped against a wooden step, and the tree shivered almost imperceptibly. Someone was climbing up.
I looked around me but the ladder was the only way down, unless I felt like jumping. It couldn't have been more than nine or ten feet down. Odds were I could land more or less in one piece. But if I misjudged the jump I could sprain an ankle or break a leg, which would make running away both impractical and embarrassing. Jumping would have to be a last resort.
I gathered in my will and settled my grip on my blasting rod, pointing it directly at where the ladder met the platform. The tip of the blasting rod glowed with a pinpoint of bright red energy.
Blond hair and the top half of a girl's angelic young face appeared at the top of the ladder. There was a quiet gasp and her blue eyes widened. "Holy crap."
I jerked the tip of the blasting rod up and away from the girl, releasing the gathered energy. "Molly?"
The rest of the girl's face appeared as she climbed on up the ladder. "Wow, is that an acetylene torch or something?"
I blinked and peered more closely at Molly. "Is that an earring in your eyebrow?"
The girl clapped her fingers over her right eyebrow.
"And your nose?"
Molly shot a furtive look over her shoulder at the house, and scrambled the rest of the way up to the tree house. As tall as her mother, Molly was all coltish legs and long arms. She wore a typical private-school uniform of skirt, blouse, and sweater-but it looked like she'd been attacked by a lech with razor blades where fingers should have been.
The skirt was essentially slashed to ribbons, and underneath it she wore black tights, also torn to nigh indecency. Her shirt and sweater had apparently endured the Blitz, but the bright red satin bra that peeked out from beneath looked new. She had on too much makeup. Not as bad as most kids too old to play tag but too young to drive, but it was there. She wore a ring of fine gold wire through one pale gold eyebrow, and a golden stud protruded from one side of her nose.
I worked hard not to smile. Smiling would have implied that I found her outfit amusing. She was young enough to be hurt by that kind of opinion, and I had a vague memory of being that ridiculous at one time. Let he who hath never worn parachute pants cast the first stone.
Molly clambered in and tossed a bulging backpack down on the wooden floor. "You lurk in tree houses a lot, Mister Dresden?"
"I'm looking for your dad."
Molly wrinkled up her nose, then started removing the stud from it. I didn't want to watch. "I don't want to tell you how to investigate stuff, but generally speaking you won't find him in tree houses."
"I came over, but no one answered the door when I knocked. Is that normal?"
Molly took out the eyebrow ring, dumped the backpack out onto the floorboards, and started sorting out a long skirt with a floral print, a T-shirt, and a sweater. "It is on errands day. Mom loads up the sandcrawler with all the little snot-nosed Jawas and goes all over town."
"Oh. Do you know when she's due back?"
"Anytime," Molly said. She hopped into the skirt, and wriggled out of the tattered skirt and tights in that mystifyingly modest way that girls always seem to manage to acquire sometime in their teens. The shirt and pink sweater went on next, and the ripped up sweater and, to my discomfort, the bright red bra came out from under the conservative clothes and got tucked back into the backpack.
I turned my back on the girl as well as I could in the limited space. The link of handcuff Anna Valmont had slapped onto my wrist chafed and pinched. I scratched at it irritably. You'd think I'd been cuffed enough times that I should have gotten myself a key by now.
Molly took a wet-wipe from somewhere and started peeling the makeup from her face. "Hey," she asked a minute later. "What's wrong?"
I grunted and waved my wrist vaguely, swinging the cuff around.
"Hey, neat," Molly said. "Are you on the lam? Is that why you're hiding in a tree house, so the cops won't find you?"
"No," I said. "It's kind of a long story."
"Ohhhh," Molly said wisely. "Those are fun-time handcuffs, not bad-time handcuffs. I gotcha."
"No!" I protested. "And how the hell would you know about fun-time handcuffs anyway? You're like ten."
She snorted. "Fourteen."
"Whatever, too young."
"Internet," she said sagely. "Expanding the frontiers of adolescent knowledge."
"God, I'm old."
Molly clucked and dipped into the backpack again. She grabbed my wrist firmly, shook out a ring of small keys, and started trying them in the lock of the cuffs. "So give me the juicy details," she said. "You can say 'bleep' instead of the fun words if you want."
I blinked. "Where the bleep did you get a bunch of cuff keys?"
She looked up at me and narrowed her eyes. "Think about this one. Do you really want to know?"
I sighed. "No. Probably not."
"Cool," she said, and turned her attention back to the handcuffs. "So stop dodging the issue. What's up with you and Susan?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"I like romance. Plus I heard Mom say that you two were a pretty hot item."
"Your mom said that?"
Molly shrugged. "Sorta. As much as she ever would. She used words like 'fornication' and 'sin' and 'infantile depravity' and 'moral bankruptcy.' So are you?"
"Morally bankrupt?"
"A hot item with Susan."
I shrugged and said, "Not anymore."
"Don't move your wrist." Molly fiddled with one key for a moment before discarding it. "What happened?"
"A lot," I said. "It's complicated."
"Oh," Molly said. The cuffs clicked and loosened and she beamed up at me. "There."
"Thanks." I rubbed my sore wrist and put the cuffs in my coat pocket.
Molly bent over and picked up a piece of paper. She read it and said, "Ask Michael about duel? Whiskey and tobacco?"
"It's a shopping list."
Molly frowned. "Oh." She was quiet for a moment and then asked, "So was it the vampire thing?"
I blinked at the girl again. "Was there a PBS special or something? Is there some kind of unauthorized biography of my life?"
"I snuck downstairs so I could listen to Dad tell Mom what had happened."
"Do you eavesdrop on every private conversation you can?"
She rolled her eyes and sat down on the edge of the platform, her shoes waving in the air. "No one says anything interesting in a public conversation, do they? Why did you guys split up?"
I sat down next to her. "Like I said. It was complicated."
"Complicated how?"
I shrugged. "Her condition gives her - an impulse-control problem," I said. "She told me that strong emotions and uh, other feelings, are dangerous for her. She could lose control and hurt someone."
"Oh," Molly said, and scrunched up her nose again. "So you can't make a play for her or-"
"Bad things could happen. And then she'd be a full vampire."
"But you both want to be together?" Molly asked.
"Yeah."
She frowned. "God, that's sad. You want to be with her but the sex part-"
I shuddered. "Ewg. You are far too young to say that word."
The girl's eyes shone. "What word? Sex?"
I put my hands over my ears. "Gah."
Molly grinned and enunciated. "But the bleep part would make her lose control."
I coughed uncomfortably, lowering my hands. "Basically. Yeah."
"Why don't you tie her up?"
I stared at the kid for a second.
She lifted her eyebrows expectantly.
"What?" I stammered.
"It's only practical," Molly stated firmly. "And hey, you've already got the handcuffs. If she can't move while the two of you are bleeping, she can't drink your blood, right?"
I stood up and started climbing down the ladder. "This conversation has become way too bleeping disturbing."
Molly laughed at me and followed me back to the ground. She unlocked the back door with another key, presumably from the same ring, and that was when Charity's light blue minivan turned into the driveway. Molly opened the door, darted into the house, and returned without her backpack. The minivan ground to a halt and the engine died.
Harry is nowhere as socially inept as some people suggest.
He has specific issues with authority figures and people who present as authority figures. And he usually defaults to refusing to engage socially with supernaturals with superior social skills due to hardwon experience.
But he's otherwise largely socially functional.
One of his first jobs in Chicago was ballroom dancing with seniors, and charming them, which he was apparently good at.
People exaggerate his deficits.
- Location
- washington
Hear me out we rob ethniu. Nothing could go wrong here.
- Location
- washington
You know I think there was something said in Dresden files at some point where it's not really impossible to cure vampirism and such so much as surviving such a cure is basically impossible. Of course a cure from like the mothers would just work but good luck getting that.
This is very much a 'try and find out' kind of situation, but Molly is quite sure that gift would not be as powerful as Sapphire Ritual Exorcism
I made a panoply for Molly (armor only, she has Usum and he's good enough) and Lydia:
Judge's Deadly Noose - weapon for Lydia. A whip / lasso / noose hybrid. Whips use brawl, so it gives her some range options. Summon stats subject to revising, as I learned a few tricks since I made them and can make them better.
Warding Garments of Death - armor for Lydia
Armor of Frozen Fate - armor for Molly, I'll have to design 4 and 5 dot upgrades, as I don't remember making them
I'll have to update stuff for Lydia probably, especially the weapon. Or at least improve it. The lore might not work too well with new story bits we have been given. And make a higher tier armor version for Molly too.
Vote closed.
Arc 14 Post 68: Colleagues and Contentions
Colleagues and Contentions
21st of February 2007 A.D.
"Come out come out wherever you are," you turn on your heel a sing-song too low for mortal ears to catch. If they wanna play so can I...
Harry twitches, well. OK so maybe wizards can hear it too, but he's used to you by now. "We're being watched," you explain as a man in khaki shorts and a hoodie sporting a military haircut allowed to grow out for a few years pulls up on a beat up motorbike, the kind that had seen so many refits that it would take a wrench and half an hour in a shop to tell what the original model had been. Despite the baggy clothes you can tell he keeps in shape and despite the way he half drops his gaze, you can see the flash of alien hunger behind them, tightly leashed, a half blood, a skilled one as such things go.
"What are you?" There's an edge of awe there that doesn't just make you uneasy for it's own sake. Way too close to fight or flight.
"Marv...Martin?" Harry seems to recognize him at least so probably on the side of the angels, not that the guy seems to be paying attention.
"That's a bit forward don't you think?" you switch gears to a smile. "Hello my name is Molly, this is Tiffany, you seems to know Harry, we're here to meet a friend."
Lost 2 Essence -> Now at 16/18 (Intimidation and Empathy Excellencies)
"What... why didn't you call?" thankfully Martin is able to take in changing circumstances well, the desperate hungry darkness sinks back into the lines of his face.
"Tried, got a dead number," Harry answers causally, true enough as far as it goes, but she also didn't call to give him a new one, just people growing apart and if it weren't for the fact there's a kid in the middle maybe that's where it would have stayed. Tiffany certainly looks very proud of Harry for keeping a straight face.
Certainly Martin seems to buy it, he shoves a hand in the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out an old Nokia phone, the kind that can double as a brick in a pinch.
"Do you like seafood?" he asks as the phone starts to ring.
Tiffany nods easily to cover the fact that Harry's meeting with his Ex and co-parent had just turned acquired another party. Something tells you Martin here isn't the sort to be satisfied with vague assurances.
That is how you end up on a pair of rustic benches overlooking the Pacific, the smell of surf vying with herbs and spices and the low rumble of other people's conversations. It's not a bad means to make sure you aren't overheard by any means. Noise works better than silence when dealing with inhumanly acute ears, but you would still rather have this wards behind wards, preferably your own.
The woman who walks up with a nod to the servers, she's clearly been here before, looks like the pictures you've seen of her: hair more straight than wavy, framing a heart shaped face dark eyes adorned with eyebrows that seem made to quirk in surprise. In fact she looks exactly like the pictures you'd seen of her because the parasite in her soul refuses to be denied its meal by something as 'trivial' as old age. Her mouth is set in a hard line, though it's hard to tell if she annoyed to see Harry or just at being summoned at a moment's notice. Then she catches sight of you and Tiffany and one can practically see the curiosity win out despite herself. Oh yeah... you can tell how she ended up too deep in the world of magic and monsters.
How do you approach Susan?
[] Harry asks about Maggie first, that is why you are here after all
[] Offer the exorcism first to make it clear that isn't connected to any personal stuff
[] Write in
OOC: In Dresden's narration Martin did not look like anything, he was just bland, but Molly notices different things about people even when you do not take into account that she is an infernal running social excellencies.
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fictionfan
Please sir, may I have some Meows?
- Location
- Tempe, AZ
[x] Offer the exorcism first to make it clear that isn't connected to any personal stuff
Rolls
Intimidation vs Willpower
Empathy to reel it back
Harry Charisma Subterfuge vs Martin to read him... was not expecting that damn
...not so good that Molly can't read him
Intimidation vs Willpower
Empathy to reel it back
Harry Charisma Subterfuge vs Martin to read him... was not expecting that damn
...not so good that Molly can't read him
[x] Offer the exorcism first to make it clear that isn't connected to any personal stuff
Ok, let's be honest. We are here because of Maggie. If not for her, we might have gotten to it at some point, but probably after breaking Red Court, in the mop up phase of the military campaign. That said, narratives matter. So.
[X] Offer the exorcism first to make it clear that isn't connected to any personal stuff
[X] Offer the exorcism first to make it clear that isn't connected to any personal stuff
Ivar
Dark Reaper
- Location
- Russia Moscow
I think we'll do the exorcism stuff first and then we'll do the personal stuff. Because Molly is such a bullshit that you have to see her in action to believe her. Even if Susan knows Molly killed Ariana Ortega and another guy, she might not fully believe it. Anyway, first we'll show strength and then we'll say we can easily protect Dresden's daughter.
[X] Offer the exorcism first to make it clear that isn't connected to any personal stuff
[X] Offer the exorcism first to make it clear that isn't connected to any personal stuff
I'm pretty confident in this one, sorry about the lack of sources though. I've got a lot going on and haven't had a lot of free time to do deep dives into relatively obscure lore until now.
This particular bit of lore is spread around a lot of places, but I'm still confident in the basic premise. From a narrative perspective Salina's working exists to show a well meaning First Age Solar is still a First Age Solar. They were dangerous, insane, and dangerously insane.
So far the best I've got is the original write up for Salina' character sheet from Dreams of the First Age : Lords of Creation pages 137-138.
It doesn't actually directly mention the hazards of what she did, but I'm pretty sure that should be in one of the lore sections of the books of sorcery: white and black treatise or the core books.
There are some relevant bits though. Firstly as a matter of character Salina not only preferred to see the good side of people, she categorically refused to accept the bad side could exist. Further; the reason she was a hard core anarchist* is that she remembers her first incarnation dying to She Who Lives In Her Name. The vision he got while dying essentially traumatized her so hard that she started considering any sort of hierarchy immoral.
More immediately relevant - her project came in two parts. The first was the working that made sorcery available to everyone, and the second a secret project was to make all types of sorcery available to anyone who cared to learn.
I'm reasonably convinced every stage of her project had a serious risk profile, but it's also possible that her ongoing work was what triggered alarm bells. As in, she fundamentally reshaped how reality worked because it didn't align with her philosophy and wanted to do it again but worse. Still working on the sources for that one, so we'll see.
* Going as far as arranging the government of her own territory such that it only technically existed. No authorities, no laws, nothing but ceremonial duties to satisfy a charm she used to facilitate trade.
[X] Offer the exorcism first to make it clear that isn't connected to any personal stuff
boo600
Ego sum egredietur tempestas.
- Location
- Texas
- Pronouns
- He/Him/Hungry
[X] Offer the exorcism first to make it clear that isn't connected to any personal stuff
Oh my god.
Guys, we had a way to give the Senior Council phones all along, without putting demons on them!
Magic works with physical laws (normally) so it has limits! An indestructible phone could totally work!
This is partially a joke, but Nokia are infamous for being invincible, and magic is affected by belief! And they're just stupidly tough in the first place!
We seriously have to try this, for science! Give Harry a Nokia and see if the council wants to use its money to invest in making Nokia… a warden's best choice. *Most interesting man in the world meme*
Oh my god.
Guys, we had a way to give the Senior Council phones all along, without putting demons on them!
Magic works with physical laws (normally) so it has limits! An indestructible phone could totally work!
This is partially a joke, but Nokia are infamous for being invincible, and magic is affected by belief! And they're just stupidly tough in the first place!
We seriously have to try this, for science! Give Harry a Nokia and see if the council wants to use its money to invest in making Nokia… a warden's best choice. *Most interesting man in the world meme*
Dmol8
The Undead Unhinged Lunatic of the Web
- Location
- Belgrade,Serbia
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Something to remember about White Wolf is that they are the poster boys for settings that hate heroes and heroism. Everything is grey, nothing any of their players can do will make the world a better place and the world keeps sliding right into that gutter regardless of any power's attempt to fix it.
This applies everywhere, but it is especially egregious in Exalted because of how they wrote the Sidereals.
This applies everywhere, but it is especially egregious in Exalted because of how they wrote the Sidereals.
fictionfan
Please sir, may I have some Meows?
- Location
- Tempe, AZ
In general I personally feel that it should be taken as just a reason for saying that the actions of the PCs are that much more impressive. If the settings was somewhere that heroism was easy the PCs wouldn't be special. It's a shame that many storytellers miss that subtext.
A nice world doesn't need heros.
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Dmol8
The Undead Unhinged Lunatic of the Web
- Location
- Belgrade,Serbia
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Actually a nice world does need heroes because what is considered nice at one point is now considered at best rude. True heroes don't stop at just saving the day and making the world a better place once. They do it over and over again.
In settings like White Wolf's World of Darkness and Chronicles of Darkness there is no improvement to be gained and then kept to be built upon. Everything is always castles made of sand lasting until the tide inevitably comes in.