Green Flame Rising (Exalted vs Dresden Files)

[DragonParadox]

Of Trouble Transferred ​

2nd of October 2006 A.D.

There is something almost surreal about going to school, the harsh sound of the bell herding the students from place to place , leaving you as nothing more than another face in the crowd, the cafeteria food, not so much bad as indifferent, you can almost taste the apathy in the mashed pees, the growing understanding that many of the teachers do not really want to be here, even though it's hard to blame them when they are just making an honest dollar,. Sometimes you want to vanish, curl up in a glass of water, fly out the window and never come back. There has to be a better way to do this than teaching to test and testing to grade. In practice 'No Child Left Behind' just means there isn't anyone your age who has not been inflicted with a dread of little circles and Number 2 Pencils, though some have it worse than others...

"I swear I'm gonna flunk math, it just doesn't make any sense to me," Izzy leans against the radiator with all the world-weariness of a miner in the salt pit of high school. "I can see it now me going through senior year over and over, my father reminding me I'm the first Walsh in seven generations to do so poorly..."

"Unless you have a noble or a priest in your family line seven generations ago your ancestors were illiterate," you point out perfectly rationally, but your friend just glares at you.

"Hail dread overlady, got any tasks for me, walk your dog, water your plants, slay your enemies?" A chillingly familiar voice calls out from down the hall.

Is it too late to ask for boredom again, you wonder as Isabela Syliga walks, saunters really, up to the two of you, the smile on her face making it very clear, to you at least, she meant all three of the offers.

For her part Izzy looks bewildered. "You're the new girl right, sophomore?" And there went any hope that the vampire was just visiting.

"Yup transferred over. You would not believe how much of a hassle it is to do that in the middle of the school year, but my family has means... especially when to quote my dad 'your demon has been bound to the will of a beast far greater, learn how that came to be and you shall be great'," The vampire is wearing a blouse showing as much midrift as she can get away with in spite of it being October and jeans so tight that might have been painted on, much to the fascination of every boy who passes in the corridor.

"What the...?" Issy asks bewildered.

"Don't hold the way he speaks against mu father, he comes by it honestly, being older than both the telephone and the flush toilet."

Part of you wants to slap a hand on her mouth, but you realize no one among the bustling crowd of students heading to their lessons and teachers shuffling papers as they walk would take her seriously. Why would they after all, everyone knows vampires aren't real How many of her court do that you suddenly wonder, talk openly about the hidden world, just for the satisfaction of seeing how the 'prey' is blind and deaf to the truth.

Pinching the bridge of your nose to in a vain attempt at heading off the headache you introduce them: "This is my friend Izzy. Izzy this is Isabela Syliga, she's a vampire, White Court."

Your friend takes the revelation in wide eyed, perhaps surprised at the lack of sweeping cloaks, no amount of explanation can prepare one for the sheer magnetism of the White Court. Finally she settles on "Dread Overlady?"

"Didn't know the correct form of address since no one can decide what Molly here even is so I improvised," Bela proclaims glibly.

"And yet you remembered my name." Your voice is dryer than the Sahara.

"Well yeah, but that's boring, what kind of ancient god-beast in human form is called 'Molly'?"

All you can do is close your eyes, aware that you are not immune to the allure of the White Court, at least now without burning Essence, but all the same there are worse ways for her to have introduced herself

What do you do about the perky vampire who showed up at your school?

[] Set some ground rules
-[] No feeding on anyone in school
-[] Write in

[] Maybe you could make use of her
-[] Can she tutor in math?
-[] Explain more about the unseen world to Izzy and Alec, from a...novel perspective
-[] Write in

OOC: Now we see how Molly deals with minions that are not so well intention-ed as Thomas, nor as desperate as the Jade Dogs

 

[DragonParadox]

Sins of the Father ​

2nd of October 2006 A.D.

What are you on about? you wonder, half-amused half-annoyed, then on the heels of that a more serious question. If I let you out of my sight what will you do? There's an odd tugging at the corner of your eyes, the colors of the busy corridor bleeding into shadow, the voices of the students mingling in strange harmonies. What's the worst she could do? As the moment stretches like a thread of black silk Usum helpfully informs you: "The future is in flux, the past is easier by far to grasp, especially those parts of it that leave a stain upon the soul."

Before you can fully grasp the implications you feel yourself tipping into Bela's eyes, following the scent of sin like a hound on a trail. Though this too is divination of a sort it could not be more different from the detached perspective of the Crown. It is almost as though you are Isabela Syliga and yet not, a shadowy parasite dragging at her heels.

Lost 2 Essence and 1 Willpower -> Now at 10/12 and 8/9

***​

"Chicken, come on all you have to do is get in there, take a look that stupid book he's been obsessing so long about, I have more than enough stories from the holls to distract father," a far younger Isabela, maybe seven years old or so was telling a faintly gangling looking boy maybe two years her senior, the conspiratorial tone speaking of friendship in spite of, or maybe because of the boy's long suffering look.

Eric, his name was Eric, the name unfolds before your sight.

"I'll distract him and you sneak in," the boy shoots back.

"What with your scintillating charm and the latest kitchen gossip," Bela shoots back. "Come on you owe me... please." It's the 'please' that does it.

A mute and silent spectator, you watch as Isabela does indeed distract her father with stories of summer camp, recognizing a few of the names along the way, this was no ordinary wilderness camp, but a chance for the children of the White Court to meet with one another to network and measure each other up.

Alas Eric's stealth is not enough to escape vampiric senses, not even from across the hall. He had barely pushed open the door of the study when Armando Syliga's head snaps in that direction and in a voice a cobra might use before it strikes he hisses. "Stop." Rather than fury his lips curl in annoyance and even when his daughter attempts to explain that she had put the boy up to it he simply shakes his head.

"Come!" he snaps to the still enthralled Eric... and Isabela would never see him again.

It is only a week later after increasingly insistent questioning the elder vampire finally explains himself, his tone still holding that faint edge of annoyance. "I liquidated him. A ghoul-blood, not even awakened, willing to flaunt such simple rules with only minor provocation would have been much more trouble than he's worth to allow to come into his powers."

The vision with the look of utter horror frozen on the child's face.

***​

"Excuse me a moment, I have to go to the bathroom," you say, sounding hollow to your own ears, though probably not to Izzy or the much more cheerful seeming Bela of the present.

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, splashing some water onto your face. Hopefully the Lord will understand taking His name in vain after seeing that. Talk about making monsters. Yet the more you think about it the more sense what you have seen of Bela makes sense in that context. She's sorry she did not take the risk herself so she became a risk taker and she avoids making friends weaker than her father.

In light of that your thought to, among other things, get her to explain the unseen world to Izzy and Alec could be a good idea... or a very bad one if she takes it as some kind of twisted test, of which you now suspect she has been through way too many. On the other hand it's not like you can explain 'hey I know what the thing you are most ashamed of in your life and it really wasn't your fault.'

Do you change anything in your approach in light of what you just discovered?

[] Yes
-[] Write in what

[] No, previous vote stands

OOC: Naked Wicked Souls reveals the greatest sources of shame not any sort of generally understood sin, so you can get results like this. I do not generally like doing re-votes like this, but you guys just got a hell of an insight into her motivations.

 

[DragonParadox]

The Games We Play ​

2nd of October 2006 A.D.

Class has already started by the time you get back, all to the better really because you are about to talk about some more not-safe-for-most-ears content and unlike your new... Vassal, you'll go with vassal you decide you do not get a thrill out of playing fast and loose with secrecy, harmful as it might ultimately be.

For her part Bela pouts when you tell her to stop spouting off about vampires, magic and dark powers at school, though more concerning for you is her reaction to the command that she not cause permanent damage to anyone here:

"What do you mean permanent?" Sensing she had stepped on a landmine somehow she quickly adds. "I mean say Jim had a shitty day, he got chosen last in gym, his girlfriend dumped him and his pet hamster died, it is shitty enough that I can feed a little, I do so on the drive back home he's distracted choosing a new playlist to fit the 'darkness inside' and he gets in s six car pileup is that my fault?"

At the sharp turn to morbid Izzy takes half a step back, but you are used enough to such things already to weigh both what is said and what is not carefully. "Nothing that is in your best judgement liable to case harm. I'm not looking to catch you out."

"Hay... hey, hey, maybe she should not be going around making people\s shitty days worse," your friend cuts in obviously perturbed.

"Here," you finish. At her questioning look you explain in full, "She can not make people's shitty day worse here, not doing that in general would involve starving herself."

Though Bela rolls her eyes and pops what you are pretty sure is whiskey flavored hard candy her posture relaxes fractionally, though the weariness is replaced with deeper intrigue in her gaze, as though she is not quite sure what game you are playing. You know for a fact she would not believe 'none'.

"So a school's a good idea?" your friend insists.

"Hundreds of teenagers, prone to fleeting emotional highs and lows they won't pay much attention to tomorrow as long as they don't repeat," you count off on your fingers. "Yeah it's pretty much ideal, wouldn't be surprised if it's a common feeding ground."

A short sharp laugh from the vampire interrupts you. "Normally anyone with the control to skim off the top like you are talking about is not gonna fit in at a school unless it's as the wax anatomical mannequin in biology class." When Izzy looks disgusted she turns to her with with just a touch of defensiveness she probably did not even realize was there adds: "Imagine trying to survive on nothing but licking thousand of spoons per day. Some people can make due with a rotating cast of regulars, Raiths, lucky bastards can just sleep around but...."

"Raiths are like the... sex ones?" In addition to near-enough getting sunburned on cloudy days poor Izzy will never get rid of that blush.

"Yeah, could ehm... explain all this to my friends, from an inside perspective?" you ask the vampire.

She looks up from her nails, sighs in what you can only describe as performative bitchiness. "Sure I can do that. First rule Red, if you are embarrassed about saying the word 'sex' under any and all circumstances you have no business learning about the Families."

"Hey!" Izzy bristles.... and just like that, you realize she is hooked. Without the challenge she might have argued. But now... "I'm not a prude, its just weird that you lot eat it!"

Later that day and out of Izzy or Alec's hearing you give your newest vassal her second task, making sure the assholes who bullied that kind into falling out the window for a selfie never do anything like that again.

"Your wish is my command." If a bobcat could smile you would imagine the expression would look something like the one which graces Isabela Syglia's face right now.

"Take your time," you finish, a warning and, you realize as you speak the words, a kind of reward.

***​

Unfortunately graver matters call on your time once the final bell in rang, the Wuan Kuei, the meeting only three days away. Thanfully you do have a thread to pull on, the murdered Shén gǔ. Dad is obviously coming along, but a pair of phone calls coming one after the other that afternoon make it clear the two of you do not have to go alone

In whose company do you choose to investigate?

[] Detective Murphy, having the law on your side will be a nice change.

[] Harry, you have worked well together so far, by try to fix what isn't broken?

[] Just you can your dad

[] Write in

OOC: Whatever you choose both Murphy and Harry will continue with their own investigations since they are already on the case.

 

[DragonParadox]

A Demon, a Monk and a Holy Knight ​

2nd of October 2006 A.D.

The unique melange of redbrick construction and traditional Chinese architecture casts sinuous shadows against the orange glow of the streetlamps that seem almost to coil at the feet of the travelers, more like dragons than any of those you spy staring back at you from shop windows or restaurant doorways. Though a girl in an Iron Maiden t-shirt ripped jeans and combat boots accompanied by a man in a long white cloak and another one in the robes of a Nepalese Monk surely make for an odd trio no one seems much inclined to look up from their own path to pay you much mind. Odds are good they dismiss you as some kind of tourists or cosplayers, but there is more to the haste of those footsteps, trying to get back under the safety of their own roofs as quick as possible than being standoffish

"They know something is wrong," you say, as much to yourself as to dad and Brother Divsimar. "Did you notice how there are no children in the street, no teenagers even...? Takes a lot to keep us in."

Dad smiles at the self-deprecating humor, but you can see he is worried as well. The deeper you went into Chinatown the more if felt like a city under siege, its people weary and furtive. Some of it you know is the murderers themselves, though they had not made the news as much as more infamous serial killings of the past had, but it is not just the murders. Somewhere among this little corner of Chicago, the smallest of its neighborhoods monsters twice over lurked, damned once by death and once by their choice of master..

Is one of them watching even now? you wonder, pushing down the urge to sharpen your senses, just the same. For all your power, you are still limited by the amount of essence you can contain and the night, as they say, is still young.

***​

The first murder you look into is that of an elderly toy-maker as shih master suggests that would make for a very fine cover for a shaman willing to mediate his relationship with the spirits through his craft, but you find nothing there save for his family unable to believe anyone could have killed the old man, who was known for having no enemies and many friends, much less by some strange poison. His daughter had even managed to convince herself that the coroner is wrong and he had Larry Zhou's heart had just given out. There is no magic here, lest a long and well counted life be counted that so you move on, seeking out someone who not only has the unbroken Divine Bones of a shaman, but had found the Divine Road. You find just that in a far more unlikely place.

The Pink Swan is a nightclub tucked between the waters of the Chicago River and the old volunteer firehouse that has just barely outrun demolition so long that it ended up in historical conservation. As befits its odd ambiance the swan is the haunt of those looking to dance to odd beats, odd enough in fact that no one marks the three of you as out of the ordinary when you walk in, grab a lemonade each and start chatting up the staff about their former DJ named somewhat confusingly DJ J.

Then something soft brushes against your leg, a cat, or at least that is what it looks like at first, though as your eyes strip away the shifting colors of the club lights you notice a coat of spots like a leopard and instantly know this is no common beast, but a creature of the threshold of worlds. Guardians of the dead, perhaps messenger, you reason, considering how you might follow the odd kitty.

But Brother Divsimar. places a hand on your shoulder and in a tone only just above the music: "Ware the senri who will hunt any that seem weak enough and make bargains with the strong, even if that strength is of the akuma."

The cat looks up at him and hisses then flounces off, tail held proudly aloft... or is that tails?

What do you do?

[] Follow the strange cat shen, if it is power it bends to you have that aplenty

[] Keep investigating the club and try to find out more about the dead DJ, if he had something like this hanging around his former place of work that means he must have been a full shaman and thus more likely to leave clues about what killed him and why

[] Write in

OOC: For anyone wondering the reason why this took so long... a large portion of it was me having to refine some background notes now that Molly is actually here. I did not know if you guys were going to poke the killings or from what direction before.

 

[DragonParadox]

To Follow a Feline ​

2nd of October 2006 A.D.

What the other patrons might think of the three of you following a cat out you cannot say, perhaps they do not even see the spirit beast among the shifting lights, though the same cannot be said of the people out in the streets. Whatever else a seri might be it's clearly a member in good standing of the tribe of 'cat' from the way it runs right between the legs of a shirtless guy with a bear tattoo sprawling on his chest as he was trying to impress the girl on his arm with a story of that time he had been mounteenering. You feel a little sorry about the way he jumped ruining his pose an earning him the wrong kind of laugh... but not that sorry. He is wearing shades after dark.

The cat takes a confusing number of twists and turns on ever narrower streets until you have to walk in single file under a mesh of clotheslines, festooned with clothes in every color of the rainbow all fluttering in the breeze, there at least your quarry stops... crouches and then pounces right into someone's good whites.

In a whirl of white linens and twisted space the cat is gone an in its place is a girl wrapped in the sheet. Short, more than a foot shorter than you and slight of build, though no one could mistake those curves for anything but a woman. Her hair is spotted tawny and black like the pelt of the cat and her eyes are double stilted like a cross.

"We must have lost it," the shape-shifter says, less with conviction and more with desperate hope.

"It?" Though you'd sharpened your senses you had not seen anything following you.

"The dark that rides the wind, If I knew its name I would be dead. I don't know if it was into you, but I had to make sure if I was going to talk to you."

"Wait, we were running from something you did not know for sure was there?" you ask bemused.

"If you only run when you know its there you die," she replies again, with chilling certainty.

"What should we call you?" your father asks, compassion as much as curiosity clear in his voice.

"Bùshì tùzǐ," the shape-shifter replies. Before you can ask what it means the old shih laughs, translating: "She calls herself Not a Rabbit, better humor than the last of your kind I met, a better end to the meeting as well I hope."

"I hope so too, there is evil abroad for those who follow the Excelent Archer to slay, one that fears neither living nor dead, one that moved with the tapestry of chi and yet is not of it, one who has killed and killed again, until all of the old blood in this city is spent."

"To steal their places of power?" you ask, frowning. That does not feel quite right. Unless Emma-O is blind indeed to what you have become any servant of his who might be a danger to you would have no need for the boon of rooting her power in desecrated soil.

"Death is the act and death is the reason, more I cannot say, but..." the spirit takes a deep breath. "I know where three can be found which have not been devoured yet. Their guardians do not know that I know and they would not thank me for leading such as you to their door, even in such company as the Hunter and the Guardian. But lead you I shall. The song of my joy is lost, why should their chosen hide away and be safe beneath the prayer scrolls." The more she speaks the more her breath seems to hitch until at least she is weeping.

She had been much more than just a friend to the DJ at the Pink Swan, that much is obvious, but it feels wrong to take advantage of her grief to reveal others that are hiding out. On the other hand it might give you a clue as to what's going on in Chinatown and what the akuma are after.

What do you do?

[] Follow Bùshì Tùzǐ to where the other hidden shamans are

[] Try to convince her to introduce you to those other spirits, you are going to do this properly... even though it might be a little obvious

[] Write in

OOC: No rolls for this one since they would contain spoilers

 

[DragonParadox]

A Muse and a Meeting ​

2nd of October 2006 A.D.

Death is the act and the reason....you resolve to call Lydia,before returning your attention to the grieving spirit. "I am sorry for your loss" you begin awkwardly, giving the spirit time to compose herself. "But to keep this evil from claiming more lives, I think it would be best to not....startle people into possibly running into the sights of their hunters by showing up unannounced at their door." You pause for a moment, then continue. "Can you get us a meeting with their guardians?"

Lost 1 Essence -> Now at 10/12

"They do not love me." Bùshì Tùzǐ answers darkly. "They name me thief and claim my sorrows are of my own making." She shivers head to toe as if with sudden chill, but some deeper emotion is behind it, is behind it equidistant of fear and lust, greed and loss. "Did you ever smoke?"

"Smoke?" you ask bemused, not sure where this is going, but quite sure she is not going to do as you ask until she has this off her chest one way or another.

"Or drink, pop pills, take a ride on the magic dragon, have a dance with the green fairy?" The spirit shakes her head and glances at dad. "Oh never mind you would never say with him here, the God of the Book does not approve, but you understand the attraction at least in theory yes? Give up a bit of your health, a moment of your life so that you might live all the brighter. So it is with those like J who would lay with the seri, other men, jealous men, call them fools. Other spirits call us monsters because we scratch our lovers and cast their lifeblood on the sheets. Do they care that we explain the cost? Does it matter to them than pain is pleasure and the scars are a path to understanding? No, no a thousand times no, they will not understand, they do not believe in my my love of J was more than lust, more than merely using him and being used, for how can a man love the brandy glass, the cigarette, the absinthe?"

"I like her style," Usum purrs thoughtfully at the back of your mind as you do everything in your power not to dwell too deeply on the fact that you are discussing spiritual S&M in front of your martial arts teacher and your dad.

"The others blame you for his death?" you ask gently. "That is why you wanted to surprise them and not speak to them?"

"I want to throw the lurking shadow's head at their feet!" the shape-shifter answers with such venom that it twists her pretty features into a mask of rage. "But sending investigators will do, better than groveling and asking for a meeting, better than being forced to swear vows not to 'steal' their chosen. I do not steal. Mortals give themselves to me and I to them. I don't bring death... not like that... J didn't die because I weakened him, he died because of it... because of it."

With these last words she starts to sob quietly into the sheet she had wrapped herself in.Head bowed she is the mourner for the youth who has fallen into the spring-flooded river, she is the sweetheart weeping for the soldier who will never make if home from the war, the girl standing motionless by the empty sickbed.

Sorrow draws you in, that too you understand in a flash, creatures of the threshold, guardians of the dead yes, but also as caustic to touch for the living in the midst of such strong emotions as lye to bare skin. Luckily I have a hazmat suit, you think, centering your mind upon a throne of brass, in the flame of the soul's purpose for in this moment your purpose is to reach out to Bùshì Tùzǐ and hug her. "Shh... it's OK, I don't blame you, no one blames you and if any other asshole spirits try to get you to bind yourself with vows and promises just because they are scared you are going to steal their shamans they have another thing coming."

Spent 1 Willpower -> Now at 7/9 (IPP)
Gained 2 Essence (Urge) -> Now at 12/12

"Th...thanks, hope I didn't get any tears or snot on you," she says into your shoulder before slowly detaching. "I'm gonna talk to the others, just be aware they're not going to like that you got me as a messenger."

"That is alright, we'll deal with it," you assure her with one more pat on the back.

A twist in space and a racing cat later and she is gone.

***​

Lydia shows up about two hours later heralded by the sound of screeching tires and an only slightly more quiet Midnight. She seems almost more shocked at the idea that a death spirit would be insulted that way than at the murders, though she has no more of an idea than you do at what the servants of Kakuri may be doing killing shamans, particularly since the deaths do not show any of the spacial or temporal patterns of a ritual. Granted you could simply be missing a lot of data points as Brother Divisimar pointed out, but the only way to solve that is to... ask.

Green Tortoise Tea does not seem in the least magical at first sight, nor at second and third, a line of neon-green over a cartoon tortoise that looks like it should be having a race with Bugs Bunny in one of those old timely cartoons its red wood and cream stone display windows flow into the touristy side of the neighborhood smoothly, right down to the pop song drifting out in place of anything more atmospheric, yet this you are told is where you are to meet at least two of the spirit protectors of some of the last shamans in Chicago

"Do you want me to come in with you?" Bùshì Tùzǐ, now dressed in a leopard print pantsuit, of all improbable things asks.

How do you make your entrance?

[] Make it very clear you are powerful and in charge, willing and able to deal with the servants of Kakauri, no matter who they are or how many of them

[] Let dad take the lead, being able to get sincerity across well is part of the job

[] Brother Divisimar has the most real world experience in dealing with shen, let him take the lead

[] Write in

OOC: You guys rolled 10 successes and I had to decide how the cynical shapeshifter would go about spilling her heart to you about the not-quite-socially-acceptable nature of her relationship with the shaman whose life she shortened by her company.

 

[DragonParadox]

Tea with the Three ​

2nd of October 2006 A.D.

The lights are low inside the shop and voices lower still, a soft hum of sound from young and old alike local and visitor alike seated around the small tables with flickering paper lanterns at their hearts. In the air you recognize the scent of green tea black... and you think that one is called red though as the steam rises from the cups as if to swath the words of the patrons in a gantlet mist that smooths out the edges of Middle American into something more like the quick tonal syllables of Chinese. Though you catch two distinct streams of meaning which Usum assures you are languages in their own right and not merely dialects it is hard at first to sense the mood of the tea house, it seems like nothing more than an extension of the worry and fear in the streets, but the more you listen the more certain you are that the company you chose is not a welcome one here.

Faces tip away from the door as you walk in, menus are lifted a few inches higher and eyes fall upon the content of their cups with an intensity that not even the, no doubt excellent, service merits. When a little girl asks her mother 'why the lady is dressed funny' she gets such a quelling look as to make one wince.

The server, dressed in very fine looking black and gold leads you towards the back of the building where a discrete door almost blends with the light pinewood of the back-wall. Beyond a short corridor is a darkened room lit only by the lanterns, though these are mental and wood not paper, spilling out whiskers of light onto a trio of faces who are not quite there.

Closest to the door and to the left of both the others is an old man, bald as an egg on top, though more than making up for it with the braided beard and mustache, he makes no bones about his other nature as the tip of his beard is braided with crane feathers. This then is Lán Hè, whose use name means simply 'Blue Crane' eldest Shen in all of Chicago. Though he bids the four of you welcome with all courtesy his smile does not touch his eyes.

Spoiler: Lán Hè

In the center of the table sits a young woman in a black turtleneck that seems very Steve Jobs-y an impression helped along by the seeming extraordinary youth of Língguāng whose name means 'Nimble Light'. According to Bùshì Tùzǐ she is a Cloud Butterfly, one who danced among the Mountains of Heaven and whose call is beauty mortal and divine alike, though she had been banished from that realm more than a century ago and send to wander the Dragon Lines eastward over the endless waters of the Pacific until she finds wisdom. She had instead found her way to Chicago where she had grown into a lover of firework displays and airshows, particularly those who show a pilot's daring. She is one of the most invested of the local shen in material existence, spending enough time incarnate to run a small weekend piloting school and mentain her certification up to date. Her manner is less cold and more intrigued, eyes the color of old amber remain fixed upon the point at the center of your forehead where the mark of your power would burn.

Spoiler: Língguāng

Finally to Língguāng's opposite side stands a man in a dark silk suit the likes of which would not be out of place in one of those Italian Mob movies or maybe the Chinese Triad, though both of the assumptions would be just as wrong. Leaping Jack, as his use-name translates, belongs to a web of beings that was old when Han Dynasty was young, he is one of the spider-kin, those who weave the dusk and hide away the siins and embarrassments of dragons. Had he seem one too many of those, you wonder to have ended up in Chicago rather than remain in he Middle Kingdom? That you cannot say for certain, but to Usum's particular scent of intrigue he seems particularly young and inexperienced

Spoiler: Yuèqǐ Jack

"Welcome, welcome all and may you have the pleasure of tea and the comfort of company in these trying times," Lán Hè offers once all of you had said your part. "Strange that we should meet under such circumstances, strange and unexpected. Far it is from the Roof of the World." He glances meaningfully at Brother Divisimar. "Farther from the Realms above..." he glances at the Sword your father bears, almost as though he expects it to answer. "You come seeking asnwers and promising solutions and yet whose solutions hmm? Do you seek to put the servants of the Coldheart King to the sword, to give them a chance to repent or..." he looks directly at you. "To make them kneel?"

What do you reply?

[] You would see the murderers perish for their crimes

[] You would offer clemency to those who have the ability to accept it

[] Write in

OOC: No rolls yet since I need to know what flavor of promise you make to tell what the DC for this would be and just generally what to roll for

 

[DragonParadox]

Webs of Woe​

2nd of October 2006 A.D.

"I would keep them from harming innocents, be it by striking their heads from their bodies or by words to set them upon them path of repentance, what matters is to put an end to the fear and suffering to make these streets, this city safe once more for mortal man and immortal spirit again. In that I think we would find common cause and in that I ask for your aid," you speak with care, with pathos, though you tread carefully so that it does not seem you speak with pride.

Língguāng sets her cup down with a click as she looks you over carefully over the rim, her amber eyes seeming almost to recall the gaze of a hunting bird. "If you do not drive them out with fire they shall return, it is the nature of the akuma who twice clung to existence in the face of the cycle that would have seen their souls cast before the judgement of Heaven. Mercy is the province of might and you are not so mighty as to afford it in the face of the Will of Kakuri."

"We are not, but we act in the name of and by the grace of One who is infinitely mighty as he is merciful," your father... no, the Knight of the Cross and bearer of the Sword of Love says. "We can promise no more than that, we can do no less."

"Do you know why the Princes of the Slain despise us and would do us evil?" Lán Hè asks, looking from Lydia to you and back again. "It is because we are unbound by the dictates of the Celestial Bureaucracy and yet we are no damned as they are, we are not a blight of Yang, nor are we the killing breath of tainted Ying corpse still upon the world. Whatever other purpose the servants of the Yama Kings have in this place they would leave it a ruin and our dear ones lost and broken because it brings their lords comfort. These creatures kill and defile not because they profit thereby but because they are defilement."

"Bullshit," Bùshì Tùzǐ snorts, her hair puffing up like a cat's arched back. "Killing is the reason and the deed, but that does not mean they kill reflexively because they hate us from back in the old country or some shit. They did not kill J first because of some imbalance of chi, they did it because J was smart and he was one of the first to realize what was going on."

"He who lays in a grave shall drink the water of the dead," Língguāng proclaims with the sort of cold certainty that is practically guaranteed to... raise spirits if one might make a pun of the matter.

Just as the younger spirit is about to make like an angry leopard and go for the throat Leaping Jack cuts in for the first time. "Honored elder I think there may be some truth to what she says, yes the Akuma have fed upon those of unbalanced chi, but not simply as a plague may feast upon those with weaker immune systems, I have noticed a pattern in who is being hunted. Male then female, old then young, deep rooted shaman, then one with their eyes still closed. I think they are attempting to poison the chi of the Dragon Lines to make it their own, the better to prepare for fighting..." he motions in your direction, hand forming a kind of spiral starting from the tip of your head to the soles of your feet.

"The akuma, Lady Eiko of the Blood-Stained Chrysanthemum, offered me a meeting," you say, the implications dawning on you. Why offer you a meeting in such a hostile manner? Because they wanted you to show up, but not to talk, because it's a trap and all of Chinatown is the web.

"So then do you still think it is wise to offer her mercy?" Jack asks with a crooked smile that would not have looked out of place on the cover of GQ.

"This trap, if trap it be, it isn't done is it?" you ask, as much to yourself as the the others in the room. "I wonder if we could catch them up as they are building it?"

"The only lure they might take are our dear ones which none here will risk," Jack proclaims, firmly... a little too firmly. His eyes do not shift, his face does not twitch, but then he is not a creature of flesh. There is a shiver in the air , a flicker in the neon lights above as his attention falls like swirling steam onto Lán Hè, he expects the elder shen to make the offer now that the akuma's plot has been revealed. The manipulation leaves a bad taste in your mouth...

[] But you let it stand, allow the moment to pass and Lán Hè to make the offer of his shaman in order to draw Lady Eiko into the open

[] So you speak up, you do not need that kind of risk taken, now that you know the Akuma are messing with the local dragon lines you can call your own expert in the matter in the from of Porter

[] Write in

OOC: Spirit politics ahoy.

 

[DragonParadox]

The Lock and the Key ​

2nd of October 2006 A.D.

"Thank you," you speak up hastily before the plot bear fruit, the hook can catch its mark. "Dragon lines... I know how to deal with people messing with the dragon lines." Hopefully, you add mentally. This is unlikely to be as bad as what you dealt with under lake Erie, but if Lady Eiko means to deal with a Warden of the White Council and a Knight of the Cross, neverming how she might be judging your own power, well it's unlikely to be pretty.

Jack raises a finely trimmed eyebrow as if to ask 'why did you go and ruin the plan' while the other two shen seem in far better spirits that someone else would be taking the risks and that they would not have to expose their mortal confederates to the claws of the Wan Kuei. The rest of the meeting is spent establishing where the dragon lines are in Chinatown between the Chicago river to the west, Lake Michigan to the east and the concrete and steel look of the I55 to the south all of the main feeder lines that Lady Eikoare coming from the north and if you are to follow the line of the I90 going that way... well it does not take the slightly rumbled map that Língguāng produces to find they lead right past the History Museum, conveniently still closed after the Red Room Murders.

"I mean if they just want to kill you there is a lot of death aspected power there still " Lydia shakes her head. "But that seems a waste."

The various Shen are still obviously dubious on the notion that servants of the Yama Kings would be into killing for killing's sake.

***​

Porter squints at the map on the floor of the tunnel, struggling with all the squiggly lines and newfangled symbols, or maybe just confused at how large the city above his head had grown, such that you end up carving a larger map of Chinatown directly into the concrete, complete with the locations of the Dragon Lines that the three shen had marked and even the water features filled in with ten inches of water for scale.

"Hmm... and you say the next major node crossing upstream is the museum where the necromancers have had their game? They certainly are not going to use that, too wild and unpredictable, this is an artist of death or perhaps a craftsman would be better said, aesthetics are secondary...hmm.... hmm... hurrr" The last words sound more like the whir of stone against stone than any words in English. "Shadows by the waterside. Shadows from below?" A shake of his great head sends dust flying everywhere, especially as luck would have it all over dad whose previously spotless white cloak now looks chalky grey.

The sight seems to awaken something in the stone dragon. "That is it? The akuma are trying to make a loop of their own power to weigh down on all essence flowing through the neighborhood. This would make it mildly harder for all powers and principalities not them to invoke their power within but the principal reason would be to slow down the flight of the power, the Crown you bear once you are dead in order to trap it."

"That is really not going to work long term," you say with as dark a smile as you have ever worn. "It has been bound once, it will not be bound again. Not..." you glance towards dad and Brother Divisimar. "That I am planning to die you understand, but even if I did that plan would not work. Another would be Chosen."

Another... "Oh no. Would the Wuan Kuei be the sort to try to hit two birds with one stone?" you ask the shih master. At his nod you continue: "If they had a shaman, one with the Divine Bones, but who has not walked the path ready and in the place of snarled lines when I die the power might just take the path of lest resistance and invest them."

"So you mean the Akuma have been killing shamans to snarl up the dragon lines, but also offering their victims a chance to work with them as the new vessel of your power with every murder?" Lydia only half asks. "If that's the case either they don't have their vessel yet or one of their victims did turn which would mean that of the Recluse Murders... one isn't a murder."

Looking through the information Detective Murphy had given you there are no missing people and working your way through the list the shen had provided again there were only deaths, including a handful the police did not recognize as foul play.

Thankfully you cat cheat. "Of the people mentioned in the Recluse Murders which are alive and working with the akuma?"

You had expected the question to return a nul answer, instead a image of a trendy looking young man floats to the surface of your mind and a single letter writ in green flame:

J

Bùshì Tùzǐ can't know about this, her emotions were too raw, her pain ran too deep... and yet for all those reasons would it not be kinder not to tell her that her partner faked his own death?

What do you do?

[] Tell Bùshì Tùzǐ about J's survival and what the akuma are likely planning for him

[] Track down the shaman and the akuma
-[] Write in

[] Write in

OOC: The trail is getting hotter.

 

[DragonParadox]

Eyes of Power, Eyes of Glass ​

3nd of October 2006 A.D.

Sleep comes in the form of a bath in poisoned water that lulls you with the whispers of waters far away as dad guards the door into the dark hours, chatting with Porter you judge and perhaps with the Jade Dogs also, at least those among them who aren't put off by a knight in a white cloak bearing a sword anathema to their nature. Sarah describes the nearness of the Sword of Love as 'a tooth-ache only for every bone in your body' You wonder why you don't feel anything, why the Sword is to you no different than it has ever been, it can't just be habit surely? Maybe Usum has a point about it being just a mark of your power, your greater weight and meaning in the world.

Essence Restored to 12/12
Lost 1 Essence -> Now at 11/12

So upon waking a question comes to mind reflected in the book you had written days ago: "What do the forces talked about in this book know about the type of object referred to by servants of Emma-O as Black Seed?"

What is what
Seed is Black

It feels like having your brain dipped in ice water, thoughts stuttering endlessly upon themselves. as they try to find purchase on something in the book, on the mind behind the book, finding only your own thoughts, on Emma-O and his knowledge, but Emma-O did not write the book, you did and so like looking down a hall of endless mirrors you see only yourself in mirrors black, down down into empty meaning.

Object or Concept
Real is Abstract and
Abstract is Real

"Damn, OK, bad idea, I get it..." you shake your head as though you had just come out of a shower. Dad looks at you funny so you explain. "Trying to use a book I wrote about Yomi Wan to figure out what the Yama Kings know about my power is crossing the conceptual wires, like my power looking at itself only worse because instead of a flat error message it starts to work then trips itself up."

***​

Thankfully Clippy has a lot more luck hacking into the Jaslin Hotel, you get your first look at the Blood-Stained Chrysanthemum. Even in the grainy security footage one could not mistake her for anyone else, a face delineated in slashes of crimson and orange upon the canvas of pale flesh, trailing gold framing the line of a delicate cheekbones that looks like they should be out of a Meiji painting and indeed which might have seen the artist's brush in those days.

Spoiler: Lady Eiko

By contrast the rest of her company look puffy eyed and splotchy pale, like they are just getting over a bad flu, or a bad trip. More than once you see the lady leaning over the receptionist's desk her presence like a buffeting wind through the ether that bends the mortal soul and twists the mind. This if no mere imposition of desire as the White Court might use, you recognize at once, nor it is the violation of the living will by the powers of death as the Black Court might evoke.

"There are no guns, you have seen nothing amiss. The stains were not blood, there is nothing to worry about. You have seen nothing." Such is the power of the Mandate of Heaven twisted and defiled, but still held in the hand of the damned. There's a part of you that can almost respect the sheer dogged determination to hold onto it with iron nails and corpse-flesh, but then you are reminded that in her own way the woman is herself a slave as much as her underlings if not more so.

With the aid of your unsleeping helpers you mark her habits: every night at midnight she retreats to her room and each time at 12:45 she calls for room service, a whiskey and black coffee. She never interacts with the other akuma until at least three hours later, though she may or may not leave the hotel during those hours, wan kuei have other means of leaving from a third floor room than just by the stairs.

Flipping over to the web page for the hotel you ask of the rather blotch of primary colors someone must have put together in an afternoon: "What plans do the akuma that stayed in this hotel over the last two weeks and their affiliates have for winning a confrontation with me and my allies?"

Isolate... Bind... Poison. Slay... Bind... Poison... Claim.

You get a vague sense of arcane powers of Yomi Wan, twisting of Chi and invokations of the Po into demonic form, there is definitely a hail of bullets in there, but also what looks like an attempt to root your allies in place and a cloud of all consuming poison before a demon of Kakuri, a thing of dead flesh and icy shadows descends upon you. Wait a second... that's... those are Demon Arts, the Black Wind, the Iron Mountain, common enough to the akuma who care nothing of the purity of their chi and who revel in the power of their Po, but ones that also twist the form and turn the mind to madness. Giving in to that... well there wouldn't be much capacity for thought, much less for complex ritual that would then transfer your powers to J. This has to be set up in advance and then fired off like a landmine.

Lost 1 Essence -> Now at 10/12

Still lost in your own thoughts to a degree you drive to the Pink Swan to ask of the flashing neon facade what J's motivation is in working with the Wan Kuei.

The answer is swift as it is disquieting to hear in a voice you had never heard with your ears and yet know to be the unlucky J's own: To become strong enough to stand beside my beloved without withering, without fading.

As you drive to the apartment of one of the other victims in order to use the connection of the home to find the headquorters of the akuma you spot a familiar police car out front, SI is here.

One thing is for sure Detective Murphy would like to know the answer to the question you are about to ask... but should you tell her. Determined as she might be you do not think she and her colleagues would be able to stand up to a greater Akuma wielding the greater of the Demon Arts, powers meant for the killing of gods. On the other hand she might be of great use clearing out any people from the battle site if you get the drop on them.

Do you link up with Lieutenant Murphy and SI before continuing?

[] Yes, you would need her authority to clear up bystanders

[] No, its too dangerous

OOC: The Black Seed Question was a marginal one so I rolled willpower to see if you Molly be able to force the crown to work as she wished. It did not work so you are going to have to find another way to get into the head of Emma-O.