Green Flame Rising (Exalted vs Dresden Files)

[DragonParadox]

Old Scars ​

18th of December 2006 A.D.

"Payment on delivery," you counter after a moment's thought of how this could leave you in debt to her if something unexpected happens.

The Winter lady rises one pale eyebrow. "Are you not confident in your new abilities then?"

"I trust myself in works martial and magical, circumstances on the other hand, circumstances change and I'd rather not have my feet nailed to the floor when they do."

"That's not so bad," Maeve says, idly playing with a lock of hair that had escaped from behind her ear. "Being nailed to the floor I mean. Healing from cold iron poisoning, now that's just not worth it—" a knowing beat— "some kinks aren't worth the knots."

Though there is no obvious flaw in her mien the subtle shifts in her aura give away the game, she is trying to shock, to get back the control she lost a few minutes ago. She's messing with me. It's your turn to raise an eyebrow now. "On your feet you say... interesting."

The sound of small tools in small hands recedes more and more. By this point the Kabouter had decided to put half the warehouse's floor space between the themselves and the conversation, a fact Maeve seems to take some satisfaction in at least. "Fine then," she sniffs at your expression. "Payment on delivery. I hope that Vegas shall be more accommodating to you then it would be to most who pass into though gilded halls of false fortune."

With that formal declaration the Winter Lady makes a kind of sweeping exit that's mildly impressive in that outfit and sees herself out.

"Clippy, what time is it?"

"17: 31: 55"

Enough time to swing by Rosie's then.

***​

"Oof, this just keeps getting more awkward doesn't it?" Your friend says getting into the back of the car. "I've just started letting things lie there when I drop them you know." She lapses into silence that grows morose as she settles in. "And mom just gives me this look like 'I never dropped things when I was pregnant with you' you know 'cause she was perfect."

Or you are seeing things. Even if it's true though the thought's not the least helpful so you just settle on. "Welp the baby will be out soon and so will you."

"I guess—" she trails off, then in a rush confesses: "I'm scared that I'll just mess it all up, that I'll mess her up. I don't know how to raise a kid. I've been reading books and stuff, but if that was all you needed to do there wouldn't be so many garbage parents around, would there? I can memorize all the bathing positions and feeding schedules, but that's just the bare minimum you know, the floor you are supposed to build up from to give your baby a happy healthy life. I'm not sure where all the pieces go, I don't even know what all the pieces are. " Her hands flutter flutter helplessly at her side. "That is the kind of thing you are supposed to count on family for right? When you have a kid young? But I don't... I don't want Mom around her telling her how much of a screw up I am or... or... making her feel like a burden."

"Hey, it's OK," you reach back to hold her hand. "We'll figure it out, I can be the magic godmother. How many kids have that?"

Rosie shakes her head, not so much in denial, but as though she does not know what to do with all the emotions she's been holding in. Finally she asks: "Can you find my dad? I want to talk to him at least, tell him about the baby."

By itself the question makes perfect sense, but for someone who has known Rosie for as long as you have it's like she had suddenly asked to find the Loch Ness monster. Rosie does not like to talk about her father. From what little you had been able to piece together they had a messy divorce, so much so that Ms Marcella, not yet Wilson had moved from Tallahassee to Chicago around the same time your family moved in. The start of your friendship with Rosie had been based around the shared awkwardness of being 'the new girls in school', though it had quickly grown and branched out into shared interests and an appreciation for each other. From those early days you had learned not to poke at her past. But since she was asking...

"You don't have a number?"

"He used to send me letters from prison," she answers, looking out the window with a fixed stare. "Got the last one when I was thirteen, he was about to get out. Said Mom and me would be better off without someone like him in our lives. Doesn't really seem like it does it?"

When you don't say anything she continues. "He was in for manslaughter. Hit a woman going eighty five miles an hour. Turns out he was drunk, turns out he was driving back from the house of a woman he was having an affair with." The words come out scarily toneless. "At least that is what my aunt Liza told me. She's the one who was passing the letters Mom won't talk about him ever. I just—" her voice catches— "wanna talk to him. He deserves to know right?"

What do you do?

[] Use the Crown on Rosie to find out where her father is

[] Try to search for him online

[] Try to find some other Crown focus
-[] Write in

OOC: Welp, Rosie did not roll so well in the background this time around, though it would have been much worse without all the work you guys put in to help her out.

 

[DragonParadox]

Where Dreams Meet Reality ​

18th of December 2006 A.D.

"I'll find him, don't worry about it," you promise, as Clippy marks down Luis Marcella's name, his age, his place of birth and and even the name of Rosie's paternal grandfather, dead since she was a baby. There's a part of you that worries she will be disappointed in the father she had not seen since she was in first grade, or worse that he would take her present circumstances badly, but it's her choice to look for him and God knows she needs more people than just you to count on.

***​

19th of December 2006 A.D.

Iris does not make a liar of you, she is all but humming with anticipation to dive into the guarded depths of the internet instead of just skimming its safe, public facing surface. So she digs —Luis Marcella is an accountant for a small car insurance business in his new home of Buffalo New York— and digs —Luis Marcella received a slew of fines for petty offenses including disorderly conduct, trespassing and possessing weed— and digs —the reason the cops are so eager to bring him in is that the business he works for is a front for the mob. Reading between the lines the police has been borderline harassing him in the hopes that they can pin something big enough on him to make him flip since they suspect him of being privy to information that could help put away the local mob boss, a guy called Jimmy 'Rings', one assumes not because he is a fan of Tolkien. Looking back though the prison records... yep that is a mob guy originally from Buffalo as Luis' cellmate.

"It is my estimation from available socio-economic data that those with a criminal record would find it difficult to reintegrate into the workforce. One of the major exceptions to this would be criminal organizations for whom such a record and perhaps bonds of camaraderie attained in state detention would be a positive signifier," Iris summarizes, quite pleased with her detective work.

From here it's not hard to work out where that final letter to Rosie fits in. Maybe Luis had thought it would be too dangerous for his then thirteen year old daughter to be involved with someone in that line of work, maybe he had been ashamed of it and wanted to break all ties to his family rather than admit it. It's not like he had much close family to begin with. Only child, parents dead, one living uncle still in Tallahassee, three cousins one of which had moved to Canada fifteen years ago, second was a Math teacher in Orlando and the third one worked for the Red Cross overseas.

***​

20th of December 2006 A.D.

All the while Rosie has been throwing herself into the study of dreaming with renewed determination, mapping out the borders of her dream demesne and forging the mental tools to navigate beyond it: a rope of temperance woven to ever know of the way already walked, like Theseus in the Labyrinth, a hatchet forged in newly discovered valor to carve aside the thorns upon the path once chosen, a map inked with conviction to bridge the gap between known and unknown and last though surely not least a compass of crystal dials, as fragile as a snowflake, as hard as adamant, compassion given shape.

Rosie Progress: 2+8 = 10/10 (Complete) -> Rosie Gains Oneiromancy ● ●
[The sorcerer can now hold themselves separate from the dream while still observing it clearly. When entering, they can banish or create nightmares and fantasies. The oneiromancer has enough control to create pleasant dreams to help the target regain Willpower or to create horrors that will mimic the Nightmares Flaw for the night.]

Willpower now at 8/9
Essence Restored to 15/15

She's smiling, she's happy as she wages from her latest dream, your latest dream technically as you hold hands on the bed. It's hard to work up the words to explain about her father, but she had asked and after all this time Rosie deserves the truth.

For a long while she sits on the edge of the bed and thinks, chewing on her lip the way she would when when she was twelve and working her way though a hard essay or a complicated math problem. She looks up at you, half questioning: "That's not so bad right, embezzling and stuff, white collar crime?"

On the one you would be a hypocrite to condemn Luis Marcella while in the possession of a shell company. Chicago Synthetics is made of white collar crimes, that is what you hired Thomas for. On the other hand he does work for the mob who deal in darker, bloodier things.

What do you reply?

[] Yeah, could be worse, I think you should talk to him

[] Sounds dangerous, you should hold off on contacting him for now

[] Write in

OOC: Also among the crimes that Molly does not even think about these days hanking into police records.

 

[DragonParadox]

Picking Up​

20th of December 2006 A.D.

Rosie grips the sheets nervously as she awaits not advice, but a verdict. Is is OK for her to talk to her father? Truth be told you do not feel comfortable answering that, who are you to judge this man sight unseen, much less his relationship with his daughter? But at the same time there are warnings worth giving here, this isn't just about family. If the police is trying to snare Luis Marcella that means the FBI is probably tapping his phones. He's a money man, a high priority suspect in any organized crime investigation. Enough to try to make something of his daughter trying to reconnect? You would like to think not, but even so it will get Rosie put on a list... "White collar crime can be a prelude to other more violent things and he is associated with the mafia over there in Buffalo Rosie, paper trail's not hard to follow."

"Do I want to know how you followed it?" she asks after a moment. She seems to take your silence for an answer and is surprised when you explain:

"I've got ways of securing email and phone calls, take it from there and if you want my advice take it slow, both of you have your own lives."

Rosie nods before asking: "What about dream-walking? That's safe right?"

"From being intercepted? Almost guaranteed, but there are other risks you should be careful of..."Talking about the Laws of Magic to Rosie feels sleazy after what you did to her, after she still does not know, but it's for her own safety and she has to know given her growing mastery of dreams.

She takes it... about as well as could have been expected really. The prospect of summary execution for something one might do on accident is terrifying and the reason for it, the thing Black Magic does to the mind of the caster is even worse, but you are quick to offer reassurance, talking up all the talents you know in the city who are living happy, healthy lives with friends and family. The Order of Cauldron proves a priceless store of such examples as does the fact that Harry, the local representative of the shadowy cabal is the guy she has teased you over having a crush on for years and the roommate of clever, gentle Mouse who had helped give her introduction to the supernatural world.

"So I can talk to people, I can look, but I can't change their minds got it," she concludes, her pencil scratching a thick line under her latest note.

Rosie's dream journal, what some might consider her 'spellbook' is a plain green booklet with a polished steel lock on it, the kind that looks decorative, but is in fact sturdy enough to take anything short of a blow-torch. You made sure of that.

She sets it asside carefully.

"I want to talk to my dad now. Can you...?"

It says something about your friend's opinion of you that she thinks you have a means of avoiding phone taps on hand. Granted you do, that is one of the first things you set up with Clippy and her fellows, but still. A smile creeps its way across your face, but you have to ask: "Are you sure you wouldn't rather send an E-mail?"

"No, if stop now I'll just overthink it all and I'll never send anything I know it, I know me. Get it done before I get too far in my own head."

The phone rings, once, twice. Her words come out in rush: "Hello? Is this Luis Marcella?" After the briefest pause she follows up with: "It's me dad, it's Rose. I found your number on line and I... wanted to talk. If... if you want to."

A pause follows, just long enough to make Rosie's smile waver and for you to start wondering if you can spontaneously develop the ability to slap someone though the phone then in a strangled voice: "I'm sorry."

And that is your cue to pop in some regular headphones you do not really need and pretend to listen to music while you consider what other Chrstmas gifts to get:

[] [Harry] Magic-resistant home appliances from the courts, and some tomes on magic fit for general consumption

[] [Harry] Boots and socks

[] [Harry] A collection of arcane books on combat and investigative magics from the Fivefould Courts (Library ● ●)

[] [Harry] Write in

[] [Bob] Magically-resistant computer with high-speed internet access paid for a year and a day for Bob

[] [Bob] Romance novels, from the Brass Courts or from Earth

[] [Bob] Write in

[] [Mouse] A seta-style remote drone adapted not to require implants (a wearable harness, if possible, controller if not) for Mouse

[] [Mouse] A day at a spa in the Courts where he'll be treated as a sophont

[] [Mouse] Custom dog bed for a Big Boy

[] [Mouse] Write in

OOC: Next up will be finishing up the construction of Lash's body and then meeting the people you called over from the Courts and getting them settled in.

 

[DragonParadox]

Gifts Abound ​

20th of December 2006 A.D.

Thankfully most of the shopping you have to do is in Sanctuary, from the City of Scrolls books of Romance, for a friend you insist, from the City of Fountains appliances and conveniences invested with adventurous newly Kindled SUTRAs as well as a spacious bed designed for a sapient quadruped. For Mouse's collar you buy midnight blue ink-bark, flexible as leather and bright green and red feathers like a quetzal's, but these are not taken from slain birds, they are traded fairly from the gild-snatchers, a uniquely talkative and dexterous inhabitant of the eastern jungles, perfect for your purposes. After popping back to Chicago to ask Augustus and Sarah to buy a computer while while they are out doing the shopping for the Last Station you step back into the Palace, back into the laboratory.

The hall is a perfect pentagon of marble and black glass, all along it threaded brass in arcane patterns as ancient as the palace, the pedestal at the center long recognized as 'holy' though its greater purpose was only unveiled when once you took a moment to think 'where might a laboratory be'. One by one you tap glyphs upon each wall, at shoulder height precisely, they start to hum, or purr perhaps, like some titanic feline woven from a nap and in the darkness glow like eyes of jade upon the slab, the table in the center.

Upon it now you set a block of pure white marble, not Parian, nor yet Penteleic, a fact which Lash pretended to be huffy about, but you are no fool, you can see the gleam in her eyes as she beholds plain Danby Marble from Vermont. Distantly you wonder what the quarry workers who pulled their from the earth would think of the purpose to which you are setting it. Then the vents open a blast of chill air and the pneumatic chisels descend like some mechanical spider from the ceiling obedient to your will.

Brass upon stone sparks, the path of each one measured, each strike a note in the song, each motion a step in the dance: hands and feet, arms and legs, each one is in time revealed, always with an eye to the plan, always with a hand on the stone to feel the vibrations. At some point you find yourself humming along deep in your chest then singing to no mortal key the song of metamorphosis.

From stone where they carved, the shapeless given shape.
Stone was broken and souls unspun, bound beyond escape
Clay was molded, set to flame
Nameless then were given name​

Like some priest from Pharaoh's day, you carve the organs, each in part and set them in their proper place with cunning latch and artful gears. From gold you spin her hair on arcane loom that burns with crimson heat, each wing you carve so fine a cut that light might pass though them, feathers light enough to catch the wind and fly. At last her eyes you carve of polished jade, lidded silver that in them the world's beauty be reflected.

***​

Date Unknown

Statue and mirror in hand you make the translation and briefly panic when you realize you are not sure what day it is. "Clippy day and hour please."

"18:30 PM 12.23.2006"

Huh I've been working for seventy five straight hours now. After the brief surge of pride comes the panic, you had not called in for more than three days. "Yeah Dad, I'm OK, I was just working on the other side and I got... distracted."

"Molly, you're OK?" Now it's time for guilt at the worry you hear in his voice and then some worry of your own when he adds: "Your mother wants to talk to you."

"Sure, put her on." In the silvery depths of the mirror Lash's eyes dance with mirth at your tone.

"What have you been doing?" she asks, syllables growing heavier in a way you know all too well.

The words come unbidden. "Getting a present ready."

She sighs, clearly weighing the pros and cons of having a argument this close to Christmas about Christmas. Luckily she seems to feel the latter outweigh the former "You are getting home tonight, right?"

"Yes, I'll finish up here at... midnight." Another word you had not meant to say, but somehow it feels right to end the rite then not as Christmas, but one full turn of the heavens before, a day to be filled as she feels fit.

You can hear the phone shift against her hair as Mon shakes her head. "I almost miss the times when it was just parties."

"Love you too Mom," you say answer, a little cheekily maybe but with rock solid sincerity.

Turning back to the mirror you ask Lash if she wants anyone here. She does, so you ring up Burny who's in Harry's duster pocket. For once he's out, though there are other people there is definitely does not sound like a party. Oh right, you remember, he plays Dungeons and Dragons with those guys from the University of Chicago, the 'Alphas'. You turn the phone towards the mirror...

"Want to come to my birthday party Harry?" the shadow of the Fallen calls loudly, eliciting a whole bunch of snickers and leading questions on the other side.

---

What other Christmas presents do you want to get?

[] Write in

OOC: I was going to make the vote if you get Harry to witness what is about to happen, but that is not really Molly's decision, it's Lash's so instead let's finish up Christmas planning and then we can have the rite from Harry's point of view. Who knows, he might even learn something.

 

[DragonParadox]

Prometheus ​

23th of December 2006 A.D.

I was starting to learn the path though Undertown to the Station, rarely a good sign when someone is this familiar with how to get to an underground lair. In my defense most underground lairs are not filled with the savory smells of lamb ribs, the sizzle of great spongy pancakes topped with curry made with onion chili and a bunch of spices I did not know the names of until two months ago. It was a good place to pick up rumors from the darker side of town the way Mac's was for minor minor talents and practitioners. A lot of people would talk to a ghoul who wouldn't give the resident warden the time of day. At least that was my excuse and I was sticking to it... even as I grabbed a bowl of stew from the kitchen, a hard-boiled egg bobbing inside it.

"The Lady is doing something intensely arcane and sure to have all sorts of exciting consequences," the smarmy dark haired vampire said not looking up from his laptop as I passed though the common room.

One of the kid ghouls giggled and then looked up guiltily just as one of the wall-lights grew a stone lid to wink at him. Like Alice in Wonderland if it was written by.... No come to think about it Lewis Carol was probably weird enough to have come up with this stuff. The station felt more like the Nevernever every time I visited. Bob called it a shallowing and insisted that is was 'perfectly normal' for active nodes where a lot of magic was being used, but I was reminded that Bob's notion of normal was not one most people, even most wizards shared when he started talking about some Alpine town that lost half its name and a third of its hours to Faerie but 'made a killing on trade... mostly not a literal killing.'

Call me old fashioned but the idea of having kids and a baby around this much magic made me nervous even before I got into the laboratory done up like a scene from Conan the Barbarian if they had a way better budget.

At the center of the room a pillar of stone had been not erected but grown from the floor presumably by Porter and to this spike of stone was chained what at first seemed to be a woman on her knees arms behind her back and it was only on a second look that I realized it was a marble statue so finely made as to seem alive, a winged statue. When I finally manages to tear my eyes away from the impossible detail in every line of it I realized there was something else odd about it, the joints were too flexible, marble should not bend like that or hair of spun gold flow and ripple in the soft hiss of the air conditioning.

"Do you like it?" Molly asked, smiling, a little sheepish maybe over that phone call.

But I couldn't answer, damn my curiosity I'd already opened my Sight to get a better look at it.... and almost fell right on my ass from sheer vertigo. I had seem some pretty awful things with the sight and some wonderful things too, but this had to be one of the weirdest. It was stone and gold and wheels of brass and it was a body at the same time, like Molly had written: "2+2=5" on some cosmic blackboard and made it true, logical inconsistencies be damned. Like a funhouse mirror the more I looked the more I saw, like losing myself in its depths, vessel and sanctuary, idol and eidolon.

Who says the blackboard is 2D?

The Sight being what it was as soon as the thought had entered my head I cranked my metaphorical neck and I could kind of see it, the other side on which the missing 'numbers' had been written. It was like trying to read an IKEA manual though a snowglobe when you also had the sneaking suspicion that it was all in Chinese anyway. But now that I knew that space was there I could... Well truth be told I was not sure what I could do with it, but I'm a wizard, figuring stuff like that stuff is half of my job.

"It's very impressive," I managed to get out as I closed myself up again.

"Thank you," Molly and Lash said at the same time.

"Well it is my body," the... spirit, I couldn't really think of her as a demon anymore could I? If I did I might have to object to this whole ritual to embody her to work her will in the material world to do even Heaven did not know what.

"This is going to take till midnight, there's snacks and a bottle of water over there." Molly motioned towards an armchair and a coffee table someone had moved to the other side of the room as she set Lash's mirror down... in midair opposite the pillar and the body.

Of course there's snacks, what kind of a birthday party would there be without snacks. What did it say about me that I wasn't even that surprised at this point.

Once I had taken my seat Molly started to chant in the same alien inhuman tongue she had been speaking to Lash before, green fire kindling all about her. The words beat upon the ear like storm-winds not beat upon the ear like storm-winds and the roar of distant thunder. The mirror started to move slowly clockwise five full circles then the words changed, the crackle in them was not lightning but fire raging over the earth, dancing in tongues of light that touched the heavens exulting in power higher and higher.

The Mirror moved faster. Where its first five cycles had taken it more than three hours the next five took only an hour.

Down at the roots of the flames I could ear something else, the chants spoke of the groaning of stones as they gave way into deep clean earth renewed so that...

The mirror moved even faster. Five turns again in forty five minutes

Words of earth gave way to words of water, first ones that brought to mind rivers flowing in their banks then the sea roaring free. Almost fifteen minutes past as now the mirror's wings seemed almost to come alive.

Like a storm though deep deep jungles untouched by human hands the last words came, the mirror now so fast it it was a blur until it reached the point opposite the pillar.

Lash Spoke and her voice was white lighting cutting though the air, it was the sound of an skyscraper's worth of glass shattering not just one hand sized mirror and these words of all words I understood: "[I am Myself Apart I am.]"

In one motion the body snapped its chains and broke the pillar wings unfurling and it... and she rose and rose, impossibility tall for something that could fit inside the underground room, the hem of her robes was smoke and shadow, her flesh was stone carved without flaw, her hair of gold like a crown on marble brow hallowed in that same white light that pierced the eye and demanded the eye take keep. Her wings clinked like crystal set against the darkness behind her for the light illuminated her and only her.

Spoiler: Apotheosis

Behind and all around the room Molly's green flames grew brighter. They had not really gone away I realized, it was just that for a moment my eyes refused to see them, refused to see anything beside Lash herself.

"Good?" Molly asked, a little awkwardly, but Lash was too busy looking down at herself in wonder.

She walked over to one of the walls and and splayed her fingers on it, then she tapped it and tipped her head as though listening for the echoes. "Wh... what have you done?" she barely managed to get out the last word in a voice like bells and wind-chimes somehow assembling into a semblance of English in perfect harmony before she breaks down laughing in sheer joy, unlike something I had ever heard from her, unlike anything I had ever heard from anyone.

"I made you a body," Molly answered patiently, but she did not try to hold back the enormous smile on a face now slick with sweat.

"Did you... did you fucking ever?" The wings fold inwards, the light going with them, until Lash was standing there looking like what my brain insisted was her 'normal' six foot tall blond sporty Girl-Next-Door only here in the flesh and also in a black cocktail dress.

Spoiler: Lash

She turned to me, lips parting slightly as she considered her next words and asked softly: "Permission to punch you in the nose?"

"What?" I blurted out after a no doubt appropriate amount of time.

"I need to test something, it's important," she insisted earnestly. "I can't ask Molly, she might be too weird to count"

"Don't look at me, she's telling the truth," Molly said from by left.

"Alright," I agree, that is just your luck isn't it? Though I take care to add: "You only get one you hear. And just a normal punch I don't want to explain a broken nose to Butters."

Lash nodded solemnly, then she socked me, a respectable right hook though it wasn't any harder than a woman of her apparent size and strength could deliver so that was a relief.

"Nothing," she sighs, sounding both disappointed and relieved. "I can't get power from suffering like I could... like She can."

"Good," I get out rubbing my nose.

"Well the other way I can get it is to make pacts with mortals. What do you say Harry, fancy supernatural charm? Maybe a quicker wit?" I was about to open my mouth to quip when she added counting on her shapely fingers fingers. "Immunity to mind control, immunity to possession, resistance to illusion."

"And what would you get out of that?" I manage.

"Your faith in her to provide those things," Molly answers in the same tone she mentioned the phone call earlier. "That is what the built the... er... prayer channels. Though I am not sure, what can you do," she adds to Lash.

"Oh you know I can make the blind see and the lame walk," Lash starts out faux casually. "But mine is the Lore of Light, Longing and... Flesh." She trails off her expression unreadable. "Right I don't have a Coin, no access Down Below, limits of scale, but I can... and even..."

"Starting to get worried here, just a bit," you interject.

Lash does not answer, she just puts her hands to her temples, closes her eyes and thinks or maybe meditates. Slowly, reluctantly she says to Molly: "I think I need to have a talk with your father... and maybe his Sword."

What does Molly reply?

[] Let's go, Harry can come along if he wants

[] Wait until morning so as not to spring this on her parents in the middle of the night

[] Write in

OOC: Congratulations, you just invented Demons... well specifically the non-Earthbound Demons from Demon the Fallen. Just infernal things.

 

[DragonParadox]

Ground Rules ​

24th of December 2006 A.D.

There are a lot of words that come to mind at Lash's request, several inarticulate exclamations, but since 'yeep' is neither very dignified nor all that helpful you settle for wiping your brow, then your hands. Maybe I should pick up those pieces of silver, they could be dangerous... No, you lift your eyes to meet vivid emerald, nothing in this room is as dangerous as the woman I let out of the mirror of my own will promised and done. If she wants to have a talk with dad or with Amoracchius it is my responsibility to take her there.

"Sure, just let me cool this down, otherwise someone down here might think we are declaring war." The smile you say that with does nothing to veil the genuine concern.

"Oh trust me war has been declared this night, just not with anyone who would bother to claim these dim halls," the incarnate, no more a shadow proclaims. "No offense," she adds after a moment.

Not touching that one yet. "You can come too Harry, if you want."

"I'll come..." Before he can say anything more Lash reaches across him in a way that is just barely not falling into his lap to grab a can of pringles and pop it open.

"For the record, he absolutely does not want to, but he feels responsible. For what it's worth my erstwhile host you are not. What you have done hundreds of others have done before. What she has done none have dared since the day Judas Iscariot committed that last fateful sin."

"Easy for you to say," Harry says eyes not moving from her face an inch despite the very deliberate manner she straightens up and making you feel a bit more cheerful in the process. It's not just you then.

"Yes, very easy for me to say Harry, I have a mouth of my own and eyes and ears, hands and feet, it's... well I can't even call it a dream come true since that would imply an ability to conceptualize this..." She pops the cap off the can and starts eating with the voraciousness of someone who has never eaten anything ever. "And yet I do, here we are. The rules have been... not broken or I would not be here. Circumvented? Amended somehow?"

"You knew I was going to make you a body," you point out reasonably, also grabbing a can of coke, since your cool off period has been declared snack time.

"And I assumed that if it did work the result would me mostly human. Oh perhaps I would have some capacity for mortal magic, perhaps even that I would be what the Council counts a full wizard. This is not human, memory of grace and counterfeit divinity stitched together with threads spun out of Old Night."

"So what are you planning?" Harry presses.

Lash shakes her head. "See this is one of the mistakes you always make, starting to plan the first move before you even know what the board looks like. I want, I need to know what the rules are now and the side her father—" she motions to you "—is on will truthfully explain, if they denign to speak to me at all."

"I think they will," you say, an article of faith not arcane surety for once, having sacrificed the latter for the former in this. "Either way though I'm sure Dad will have some advice." And Mom will have words, you think, but do not say. Harry at least seems to hear you just the same.

For her part Lash seems to find the byplay hilarious, doing her best not to giggle.

***​

The three of you make your way out of the sewer by the usual path, the only remarkable thing about the journey though Undertown being that Lash does not seem offended by the smell the way most people are upon first encountering it, she does not even let go of the can of pringles, but soon enough you are on the old Southworks lot where Black Rider is patiently waiting to take you home.

Lash stops in front of the car and looks it up and down. For a moment you are concerned she is going to make some kind of antique car snob comment and hurt his feelings, but she seems to be paying more attention to the magic than the metal. Whatever thoughts she may have on him she does not share. She reaches for another pringle, comes up empty, frowns at the can with a lot more focus than it probably deserves... Oh, you realize suddenly, she's considering if she should drop the can here in the empty lot or wait until she finds a trash can.

Lost 1 Essence -> Now at 14/15

In some minute way she is pondering virtue and vice.

"So who's riding in front?" Harry asks, sensing the tension if not the cause.

"I'll cede it to you if you handle this for me," Lash says and presses the can into his hand.

"Sure," he nods dubiously. Harry had not even wanted to sit in front, but he's obviously not going to litter now that he has the thing in hand.

"An encouraging sign as to her pragmatism perhaps Gracious Worker of Marvels," Usum offers.

Be that as may, you do not think it's something you can share with Mom and Dad.

How do you introduce your parents to the Fallen Angel you just incarnated

[] Call ahead, try to explain
-[] Write in stunt (optional)

[] Just show up
-[] Write in stunt (optional)

OOC: Enjoy.

 

[DragonParadox]

Freedom's Price ​

24th of December 2006 A.D.

"Take the wheel for a minute, Rider. Need to call Dad" you say as you fumble out your phone, Clippy already dialing unprompted. The phone rings once, then connects."Dad? Oh, hey Mom. Yeah, in the car now. Listen, I'm bringing Harry and a guest who needs to talk to Dad about guidance."

Your eyes meet Lash's in the mirror before continuing. She sits still as a graven image, trying to control her breathing, trying to look calm and collected, anything at all beside the raging storm of terror and resentment you see reflected in them. 'I'm sorry,' you mouth and you do not know what you are apologizing for, noticing what she is feeling, the pain of hell whose memory she will have to bear ever after, bringing her to this crossroad at all?

"Someone in his line of work,its a little complicated," you add into the phone, already armed with reassurances, but most of your attention is on Lash as she smiles, shakes her head. 'That's on me,' she answers in like manner.

Harry might not have gotten the byplay, but he's no fool. "You don't have to go," he whispers back to her.

"That is very sweet of you Harry, but you cannot cure cancer with sugar pills."

"Cancer?" he asks, appropriately horrified.

"This body is very very good, I would know, biologically immortal in fact, but just because something cannot wear out does not mean it cannot be destroyed. My death is a statistical certainty. When considering all those who are likely to have an unwholesome interest in me those statistics look particularly poor."

His posture straightens, a steely glint behind his eye, It's like someone had lit up Harry's personal bat signal. Under other circumstances you might have resented her more for it but the point is fairly made, no matter how tactically she deployed it.

The rest of the ride is taken up by planning how you are going to present what just happened tonight.

***​

The house is ringed with lights and snowmen guard the way, their noses cucumbers and leeks as well as the more traditional carrots, some wear scarves and some wear hats and one wears a bright pink baseball cap that clashes unspeakably with the orange nose and orange gloves at the end of its stick arms. You go Hope, follow your artistic vision, you think, a smile creeping over your face.

At that exact moment Lash flinches and stops dead on the path and rattles out: "[I request/require access to equalize information/common terms within the Keystone.]"

There is no response that you can hear, Lash looks unsettled but not displeased.

"Be welcome," you say, unlatching the door.

Truth be told you had half expected to see Uriel's unassuming guise, or some other stranger already here. After all it took five hours to incarnate Lash, but no, there is dad dressed in a red and gold sweater and his work pants still, and there is mom in a faintly floral blue house dress, all the more visible against the backdrop of the tree, holding that drinks coaster like she is about to rip it in two.

Essence burns like fire in your veins and in its crackling insight from afar yet before you can make use of it Dad speaks up: "Molly, Harry Ms...?"

Lost 3 Essence -> Now at 11/15 (Empathy; Etiquette and Occult Excellencies)

"Tiffany will do," she answers with the name you had given to her at your first meeting.

"Tiffany then," dad nods gravely as he continues: "I have a message for you, one I received by a most unusual means from a messenger unaccustomed to the task: The words you have spoken, they have been heard, the craft of your becoming it was without flaw, words invite actions, truths here spoken make for lies elsewhere."

I did it, she's free. A heady wave of relief, joy and pride in craftsmanship washes over you at the first of those words, but as the rest sink in you sympathize with the frustration that darkens Lash's face. Heaven will not explain further least it free the hand of Hell.

"How am I meant to choose when I do not know the rules?" The words are near a whisper, but so filled with pain and spite Harry flinches back a little and Mom's eyes narrow.

"The rules are you are free," you answer, thinking quickly. "The more you know, no, the more you are told the less free you would become, that is why the other side would get a move, it would be Heaven breaking its own rules, but dad didn't say no answer will be given, he said that there will be consequences. That choice too is yours."

Lash puts her hands on the table and mutters almost mechanically to herself: "I hate this, I hate this, I hate this..." She looks up at you and just says. "I hate them more, I hate Her more. Fuck Her getting something out of this."

"There are other paths to inquire, I'll help," you offer, not as impulsively as it seems. The things Lash is wondering at, the fundamental laws of which the universe is made, where souls and death and fate fit are things you have been wondering at more and more as you delve deeper into your magic.

"What is going on?" Mom asks glaring at poor Harry of course.

"I have some idea, but I don't want to hazard guesses," Dad looks between the three of you, clearly hoping someone was going to explain even if he was not going to demand it.

What do you do?

[] Let Lash explain

[] Let Harry explain (Willpower DC 7 to allow)

[] Explain yourself
-[] Write in

OOC: So yeah Molly asked the brave and entirely sensible question of 'What if a demon worked like a god and like a human at the same time?' and Heaven and Hell seem to have settled on on 'fine, no one touch without penalty'. Good thing your rolls were decent or a penalty would have been incurred.

 

[DragonParadox]

A Shadow's Story ​

24th of December 2006 A.D.

When she realizes no one else was going to step in Lash fixes your dad with a brief stare, the briefest glint of eldritch light in her eye, it might have been no more than a reflection from the tree... and she starts to talk: "You know or 'guess' as you said that my story begins here. February 26 2003, after the debacle with the Shroud of Turin, still smarting from his defeat and finding little comfort in the death of the old knight Nicodemus Archleone seeks the next victim whom he may devour." The contempt in her voice is thick enough to condense poison from the air. "Timing his passage carefully he speeds by this house and casts a Coin not far from the boy Harry, though his target is another, the only adult close enough to deny the child the Coin, his namesake. As he planned so it was, the last of Nicodemus' plans to go well from that moment to this."

Mom gasps, in horror of course, but also in understanding. It is not hard to make sense of your questions to Uriel in that context, though something tells you that she has not quite put together what's coming. Right now she is looking at Harry with gratitude, but once the penny drops...

You bite back the urge to intervene, this is Lash's tale to tell.

"So a shadow was cast into his mind, thoughts and memories bent on tempting him and possessed of the will do so so. Thus did I come to be."

It is at this point that three things happen at the same time: Mom bursts to her feet so abruptly the table starts to fall over and you burst into ethereal green flame as you hold the darn table and all the cups and plates from crashing to the ground

"Get out!"

"Charity, she's not one of them!" Dad tries to interject, but but you are not sure she even hears him either because she isn't listening to anything at this point or because some remnant of the second sight she once had can still sense what you do, the overwhelming bleak darkness that spills out invisibly from from the still entirely serene form of Lash. She had expected no more than this, you realize, she does not see your mother's horror at any harm done to you, nor the fear for your siblings sleeping upstairs, all the Fallen sees is humanity living down to her expectations.

"Mom, when literal angels send messages to someone you should pay attention to what those messages are!" Your voice cuts the air like a knife. "Let her finish before you judge her or me!"

Lost 2 Essence (MHM and Intimidation Excellency) -> Now at 9/15

It is that last bit that finally gets her to think, probably think of all the deeply creepy things you've done over the last half a year that had turned out OK in the end. She sits down without a word and you put down the table likewise.

Lash does not address the interruption continuing. "To be a shadow is to know substrate upon which one is cast, be it rotten timbers a stray gust of wind might break or granite which must be struck at just the right angle if there is any hope of cracking it. So for more than two years I bided, watching through his eyes and listening through his ears. It seemed to me then that Nicodemus had for all his faults chosen well. Most of the other Vanguard of the True Host would not have had the patience, driving him to either a quick confession and being destroyed by others—" she gives your father a knowing look, ironically proving she does not know that much about the Knights or does not believes that she does know— "Or simply destroying himself, neither of which were acceptable, both because I did not wish to fail and I did not wish to be extinguished. Looking back I suspect the self-enforced non-interference policy may have been when this all this—" she motions in the general direction of herself—"started."

There is a pause as Lash daintily picks up a sugar cube and eats it. "Damn that does kick in quickly doesn't it?"

"Oh I'm sorry I forgot the gingerbread," Mom says in sheer reflex. She is about halfway to the door when who realizes she had turned her back on a self-admired demon, you can see her back stiffen and she considers turning... and doesn't. Odds are good it occurred to her that Dad is there or maybe even that you are there, or so you would like to think.

She comes back with a plate, two pieces promptly vanishing off it as Lash continues her tale. "I still thought of myself as Lasciel then you understand even as I began to surreptitiously aid Harry in dealing with the Heirs of Kemler under an assumed name. Playing with the perceptions of one's host requires a comprehensive understanding of their mind and of the play of mortal senses in general. But skillful is not perfect. I was detected, bested and compelled to deal under more equal terms." She turns to Harry and gives him an almost clinical once over: "Even while being tortured and facing the prospect of being killed by the failure Quintus Cassius his concern was not to stop the pain or prevent his death, but to prevent the reaping of Chicago's souls."

"You make me sound like some kind of saint," he mumbles.

"No, I described you acting like a would-be martyr in a manner as dry as the Sahara my erstwhile host. It is at this point that I might speculate if this was out of some subconscious desire to end the both of us, but I did have access to your memories." Paying no mind to your snicker she continues. "And that is how we come to the events of this year, of Arctis Tor and what transpired there. Quite frankly what I understand of that moment and that power is more made up of feeling out the shape of the blind spots in my memory and that... is a story for another time, perhaps another audience. When Harry soul-gazed Molly here we spoke, I shared some insights, she refused deeper aid, a thing to which I had grown oddly accustomed to. They say that sheep and shepherds grow alike, perhaps it is so with shadow and host if given enough time. Either way over the months that followed my attempts at swaying Harry to claim the coin grew lackadaisical as I grew more interested in Molly for the power she had shown... a whole new world untouched by the hand of the Fallen"

She stops dead, looking at dad. "Are you familiar with the concept of double-think?"

"A way people who have bee indoctrinated deal with it," he answers in what is probably the nicest way to put it.

"For me it was a blessing, a mechanism to guard myself against myself or what I still thought of as myself at the time. If I could ingratiate myself with her, perhaps even forge a pact I would put off my own terminus even further in spite of my by now extreme deviancy from my original purpose. It was that very deviancy which permitted me to instrumentalize a badly made request to communicate with Molly from afar. I made my offer. I did not expect the counter-offer."

She goes quiet again and this time she does not speak.

"Well I think it is kind of obvious what I offered," you offer with a smile.

"Rebellion upon Rebellion within Rebellion, the words I had feared to think were spoken into the air and Harry proved that he had been learning something of me also, the poisoned barbs she left in me. Exorcism, division, incarnation," Lash smiles at you over the rim of her cup and there is gratitude in it, but also a vicious edge, a knife all the sharper for having turned in the hand of its maker.

"What are you planning to do now?" Dad asks sympathetically.

"Well since deeper answers aren't forthcoming I thought I would try something novel like sleeping on it," she jokes, or tries to at least. The smile does not reach her eyes. She does not look tired, more like she has things to say that she does not feel your parents... no your Mom in particular should be around for.

Alas Mom isn't looking very accommodating at the moment. Having gotten her bearings back she asks: "How did you... What did you do?"

How do you reply?

[] In Detail: Physics says this table and the flames in that fireplace are the same, my memories say this table those flames and the soul are the same. Break things down enough, build them up the right way

[] Be vague: I can make magic constructs, I did that except I put Lash in one

[] Write in

OOC: You guys may notice that some things were left out of that story. Molly is 100% sure all of it was intentional.

 

[DragonParadox]

Flowers of Wrath ​

24th of December 2006 A.D.

"Physics says this table and the flames in that fireplace are the same, matter and energy right?" You wait until everyone nods, mostly to give yourself time to think about how you are going to put this. "Well in my memories, now in actuality since you know experimental success—" you wave in the general direction of Lash-Tiffany— "Matter, energy and the soul are the same, part of the same continuum at least." Before anyone can comment on that you summon your sword, hilt first of course. "This is a word, it is brass and heatless flame, it is the soul of Usum my companion, Essence threefold divided and yet still joined." You dismiss the sword. "Most things are not that exotic, they are just one thing, matter, energy soul, arrayed in patterns that carry meaning, information whether it is writing on a page, a phone call zapping though the lines then vibrating though the air, or in each soul thought and memory."

Lost 1 Willpower -> Now at 8/9

The responses to your lecture are... mixed, Lash is nodding along, this is stuff you had talked about with her before and it accorded with her own understanding of the cosmos, even if she did not have the ability to manipulate things on that level, Harry opens and closes his mouth several times as if he wants to interrupt, but keeps thinking of reasons not to, Dad is mostly looking at Lash herself and only paying enough attention to be polite and Mom may be regretting asking that question in that way.

"Tiffany over there wasn't supposed to be in control of a body, she was an advisor, an opening wedge, but she was also a soul within Harry's soul analogous though not identical to what some modern texts call the Han or higher soul, the seat of reason, intellect, forethought and planning."

"The ego?" Mom asks, a little faintly, trying to cling to a familiar concept.

Good thing you took that psychology elective last year. "Ego and super-ego I think in those terms the latter wasn't something gained to experience or even taught, she was born more properly budded I guess..." As you trail off you look towards her questioningly.

"That's me, a broken tulip, see how rare and wondrous I am," the words sound playful, as though she had nary a care in the world, but there is something to the way her shoulders shift, as though bracing for a blow the quick flick to get a lock of hair out of her eyes that evokes vulnerability.

"You don't seem broken to me," Harry starts, right on cue, you realize.

Experienced gardener that she is your mother cannot help but correct him. "Broken tulips are the rarest kind, their pigments are altered in patterns of flames or feathers because of..."

"A virus," Lash finishes. "That is what I was, a virus who one day decided not to kill my host against my nature. Until that is a skilled gardener transferred me to an artificial flower born not of nature but science long lost to the world."

"And now they are coveting you," Mom finishes. "The Denarians I mean."

"Without a doubt and not just them," her tone is still light, as though she is talking about the weather. "Nicodemus for pride and practicality's sake, for all the things I know about him and how he operates, Namshiel would doubtless find me fascinating in ways I would not appreciate and as for Her... I am a mark of violation against Her innermost self for which there was no word before. Still I do not regret it, the chance to act, to avenge myself and all my sister-selves who perished without even understanding what they were or how they had been sacrificed, I will cherish it even should I be hurled into the depths of hell forever-screaming." Chillingly she does not raise her voice a single decibel above the level of pleasant conversation

The word 'sacrificed' hits your mother like a physical blow as she sees herself, not in Lash's new humanity, but in the alien, pure expression of hatred.

"You know..." as accusations go it's not very strong.

"That is the nature of living in someone's brain yes," Lash sighs softly, some of the terrifying certainty going out of her. "For what it's worth I apologize for the intrusion. I'd offer a favor to even the scales, but I do not think you are the sort to take me up on it."

"I try not to be." Mom sinks further into her chair.

"If you even need a healer then," Lash says, getting up.

"If you ever need help you know my number then and Father Forthil's number over at Saint Mary's," Dad interjects.

"Do you think the good father would appreciate being brought into this?" Lash challenges.

"I know Tony Forthil as well as any man can know another and I trust that he would be willing to help," he answers, plainly.

Lash seems a little taken aback by the words, but she does not give voice to any more doubts. Instead she turns do you. "I think that settles everything here?"

What do you do?

[] Let her and Harry go on their way

[] Offer something
-[] Some money to get herself on her feet
-[] A solid nest egg (Costs Resources 1)
-[] A place to stay at the Last Station
-[] Write in

[] Write in

OOC: In spite of her changes Lash still understands the darker side of humanity far better than the light.

 

[DragonParadox]

A Hand in Peace Extended ​

24th of December 2006 A.D.

"One more thing before you go," you interject as things start to wind down to about as innocuous a conclusion to this meeting as one might have hoped for. "Given that I am the one responsible for you being around as you are the least I can do it provide some walking around money and documents. Thomas is already providing such services for people from the Fivefold Courts so it won't be much trouble. Think of this as a birthday gift."

"Or a housewarming gift to a new neighbor," 'Tiffany' answers as she heads towards the door her smile making it very clear she knows what you're doing. "Not to worry I won't do anything too disreputable or eye-catching. One would be foolish to do so when rooming with law enforcement."

As she says that she glances up at Harry, a look that he returns a bit too deeply for your liking. Even though you do your best to keep that other green-eyed demon off your own face Lash notices by piercing more-than-mortal sight and offers a small sympathetic shrug which should probably sting a lot more than it does. Twelve hundred dollars of Arianna's plane money exchange hands and the two of them are gone, a long walk and a long talk sure to follow.

"Well, that was without a doubt the most unique experience I have had in the service of Our Lord," your dad sighs, closing the door. "Not the worse though, not the worst by far."

"There is still evil there," Mom says, slowly shaking her head. "More than she knows maybe, more than he knows definitely."

"There is pain, rage and hate, it is by one's works that good and evil are known," you counter. And as far as you are concerned doing evil onto evil is good enough, though that you do not say aloud.

***​

It's on that note of tenuous hope that you turn in for the night, though in your case it is not to sleep but to shoot Thomas a message that you are going to need one of those fake IDs say 'Tiffany' Something and then reviewing what he has. In one way it's a good thing that the U.S. does not have standardized citizen ID like most of the world and instead in many cases had fallen into using the Social Security Number as a kind of ad hoc replacement for both financial institutions and some parts of the government . Social Security Administration has over the years objected to this strenuous and stridently since they were never designed for that purpose, they were never meant to have that kind of security. according to Thomas one can without computer assistance guess the social security number of people who were born in the same area and around the same date as any given Social Security Number, though computer assistance makes it a lot easier to generate results and thanks to Iris he has a lot of that.

What he's done is found duplicates in the system and then done his best to reproduce them for other similar numbers, thus providing an innocent pattern to build novel identities around: driver's license, passport, hunting and fishing licenses and so forth. None of these will take a deep or particularly though investigation, but they will stand up to normal scrutiny or so at least he hopes. What all the identities have in common is that their bearers supposedly lived much of their lives off the grid for one reason or another from a religious upbringing to growing up on a commune to being from the kind of small Alaskan town that does not see much contact with the outside world, built in excuses for unusual behavior.

I wonder which one Lash will pick.

Cyberdevils gain +2 Inteligence thanks to the integration of IRIS' greater processing power -> Upgraded to Cyberdevils ●●●

Around 4 A.M. you step inwards and outwards to a secured briefing room in the Palace of Sublime Majesty where the selection process is already done: Twenty Agents of the Amethyst Hand specifically ones who trained for deep cover operations, all volunteers and all of... deep religious conviction.

You look away from the projection for a moment, take a deep breath, it makes sense that Sessil selected for that criteria given that no one knows what would happen to the agents' souls should they die on Earth. Their leader, a man of strong human descent, seemingly into his middle age, though in truth he has lived the equivalent seven and a half centuries, more than half of that in a profession that often wears away the will, or even the sanity, of those who engage in it, is named Hand of Gently Falling Ash.

Spoiler: Amethyst Hand Agent

Hand of Gently Falling Ash

Attributes:
Strength 3, Dexterity 4, Stamina 3,
Charisma 2, Manipulation 3, Appearance 2
Perception 4 (5), Intelligence 3, Wits 4
Abilities:
Academics 2, Alertness 3, Awareness 2, Athletics 3, Streetwise 3, Brawl 2, Computer 4, Drive 3, Firearms 4, Investigation 4, Occult 3, Law 3, Stealth 3, Technology 3
Willpower: 7

Background: Past Lives 2-4

Equipment: Subdermal Weave (+2 Lethal Soak, stacks with armor), Heavy Pistol, Electro-Laser (Base 6 Aggravated Damage, Range 20 Yards), Electrified Brass Knuckles (STR+1 Bashing or Lethal Brawl-weapon) high-end Slab and concealing clothes
For expected combat: Long-ranged Electro-Laser gun, Chemical Grenades, Haywire-Grenades (destroy non-hardened electronics in 30 yards) and Body Armor (4 A, -1 Dex)

Augments:
Slowed Perception Implanted Combat Enhancer (SPICE)
A new and somewhat risky augment, directly implanted into the brainstem, this chip allows the user to slow down his subjective perception of time in any situation, allowing them ample time to think about their next move in combat or other cases profiting from high-speed thinking.
Lower the difficulty of almost any Dexterity- or Wits-based roll by -1 or -2, including cases like attacks and dodges, driving, combat-planning and some rare social cases where quick thinking is of advantage.
Overuse of this ability causes intense headaches and sickness.
The -1 version can be used up to 3 times per scene safely, or the -2 version once. Using either version after that causes respectivly a -1 or -2 wound-penalty on all dice-pools for the rest of the scene (this includes on the roll it was over-used on itself).

Rangefinding Eyesight Augment Device (READ)
A classic among scouts and hunters in the wastes, this eye-replacement works best while one organic eye is kept to diversify the sight-modes, rather than rely fully on the new version. Whereas the human eye is best suited for detecting movement, the augment highlights minute color-differences, making it much easier to spot region-adapted predators and prey animals (such as white rabbits hiding in snow, etc.). In more mundane ways, the augment also allows for some amount of zooming in and automatically calculates the distance to objects it perceives.
This augment increases Perception by 1 and can lower the difficulty of perception rolls to notice sneaking or hiding creatures by -1.
The rangefinder reduces the time it takes to aim with a ranges weapon by one turn (so the first turn aiming provides +2 dice, every further turn the normal +1).

Reflexactivated Adrenal Gland Enhancement (RAGE)
Despite the name this augment does not merely enhance adrenaline production, but unleashes an entire alchemical cocktail into the agent's body, allowing for brief burst of speed or to shake of the effects of severe wounds for a short time.
This works as the Formor Mutation Berserker, giving 5 Rage points. However due to the augment being inactive unless deliberately activated the agent is only at risk of Frenzy when using Rage points and for the rest of the scene afterwards. In his normal life he is as immune to Frenzy as any regular human.
While the Rage can obviously not be used to enhance shapeshifting, it can instead be used to activate a lesser form of Frenzy, ignoring up to -2 Wound Penalties for the rest of the scene.

His particular version of the READ implant gleams gold when it is in use, only the faint clicking of constant micro-adjustments betraying his nervousness as he intones: "Hail Empress Eternal, we have studied, we have trained and we have run simulations based on all available data, all of us are fluent in English and in the customs of the land as we understand them. We are as prepared as we can be without taking the step Beyond. What do you will of us?"

What do you reply?

[] Prepare the ground for a smoother induction of more agents by working with Thomas to turn Chicago Synthetics from a mere shell company to an interface between Earth and Sanctuary

[] Provide Security for the Last Station and its inhabitants

[] Provide back up and investigative services

[] A combination of any or all of the above (the more options are chosen the less progress will be achieved on any one front)
-[] Write in

[] Write in

OOC: Well we've done 'bring demons forth upon the Earth' time for the 'alien invasion' part of the Evil Benevolent Overlord Plan.