Chapter I - Act II: Games of Chance

Aavarius · March 11

Xanah

Where to even begin?

Xanah and the Old Man didn't stand on ceremony with each other. Indeed, that name for him was both descriptive and affectionate (if a little sharp). However familiar they might be, neither brokered any misunderstandings about who was the authority figure. He was her superior and her mentor. He was also her friend and, though it went very unsaid, a father-figure in her life. They didn't mince words between each other and neither did they have anything to say aloud about what emotions might be tied up in it all. Still, Konstantin did a far, far better job of keeping his cool about things than Xanah did. Xanah simply attributed part of that to Konstantin being a man. Their Hearts may have differed, but they had a mutual suspicion that their Souls did not.

Nevertheless, there was the matter of Magister Lui. Xanah didn't know him well, but like most Vances, she had been a student of his when she was a Journeyman. Now a full fledged member of the Order, she was technically his peer the same as she was with the Old Man, but rank had its privileges, and decorum demanded Xanah give both men their well-earned due--at least in this setting amongst so many peers.

"Salutations, gentlebeings," Xanah said quite formally as she approached. She had waited for what she hoped was a natural break in the conversation to interrupt. "May I have a few minutes of each of your time?" Konstantin knew, of course, that Xanah was being very careful to mind her P's and Q's. The second demotion hadn't earned her much grace amongst a few of the the more senior Vances, and she was trying not to cock it up all over again. She hadn't boiled yet, but there was still a bit of hot water lingering in the kettle.

That was indeed the problem. It was senior Vances that she had previously provoked, much less so the junior members. Xanah had spearheaded an ethics complaint after uncovering a money making scheme common amongst six upper rank Vances. A lot of magecoin exchanged hands using positions of authority on the Campus. It wasn't precisely against the rules, but the appearance of impropriety was tantamount to the actual existence of the same in the eyes of many. It was amongst the lowest level of corruption even possible (almost not even worth mentioning, so the argument against her went) but Xanah, in the face of the prospect of it all getting swept neatly under the rug, went public with all six names. That, Konstantin had informed her, was where Xanah had gone too far.

There were things she just couldn't let go. Her "damn fool crusades" as Konstantin put it, were the result of an overinflated sense of right and wrong and an inability to be politically tactful. For years her mentor had been trying to get Xanah to more strategically make her stands. She was young, idealistic, and hard-headed. It was a great combination of traits in terms of standing for the right thing but a terrible combination of traits for anyone who wanted to avoid charging into a brick wall. Konstantin had softened the blow as best he could, but there was a price to be paid for taking the snakes by the tail, and he could only do so much for her. She was going to have to bear some of the venom herself.

That had been two years ago. She had won the battle but nearly lost the war in the process. While the scheme got officially denounced, the conspirators had more than enough power to get Xanah excommunicated. She was only barely saved by a mere demotion. In the following year, she re-earned the lost degree of rank, only to have it taken from her more recently over extraordinarily technical and unfair grounds. The lesson she was learning the hard way (the one she had been too stubborn to learn from Konstantin) was that some senior Vances held grudges and had long memories. They were looking for any excuse to demote Xanah a second time and had succeeded in finding one.

So, when it came to minding P's and Q's with Magister Lui, Xanah was highly motivated to give the man absolutely no reason to think she was anything but the model Postulant: respectful, studious, and, most of all, obedient. "I was hoping to be able to pick your brains about how one might steal a name and to give a scouting report to the Captain about the origin of the problem in the Cascades," she declared. Undoubtedly, the Old Man would have understood that she was also coming to him directly to avoid putting her foot in her mouth before she acted on this situation. He wasn't going to be able to get her to stop getting involved, but he knew she was admitting he was right about the importance of being more politically tactful.

Character Arcs

Join an Organization

As an arachnophile, I'm being groomed to join the Cacophony, an association of spiders whose name only really makes sense to spiders. They seek to establish diplomatic ties with the Angular Serpentine.

Current Step: The decision to join
- For now, I remain ignorant that I'm being considered for invitation.

Aid a Friend

Aldrion Phect wishes to rescue his spouse from Shadow, but first he must Uncover the Secret of how such a task might even be possible. I'm too closeted a romantic to tell him I can't resist helping somebody reunite with their loved one.

Current Step: Agreeing to help
- I've agreed to help, but Aldrion and I haven't discussed it further.

Description

Appearance

Xanah and the possessions on her person lose color saturation in proportion to her amount of sunlight exposure. She's completely grayscale in broad daylight. She otherwise sports a head of medium-length red-brown hair, copper colored eyes, and a fair complexion. Xanah is of unremarkable height and build, a slim physique that belies a lifetime of overindulging. It's only her constantly moving workaholic ethic that keeps her in shape. Her clothing usually favors practicality and comfort, never one to indulge in fashionable fads. Ever conscientious of her habits, Xanah always smells faintly of cinnamon and spice.

Personality

Lives on coffee, cigars, and favors.
Fiercely individualist to a fault.
A tarnished heart of gold.
Tendency to overindulge.
A patron of lost causes, shooter of troubles, slayer of dragons, walker of tightropes, and runner with scissors.
Banned from kitchens across the Actuality for abject culinary incompetence.
Never met a stranger before but carefully chooses close friendships
A closeted romantic, almost disgustingly so.
Her sharp tongue and compulsion to kick hornets' nests and turn over rocks makes many enemies. In her Order she's been demoted twice for it.

Occupation

Xanah describes herself as "creatively entrepreneurial," which is to say she doesn't actually have a traditional occupation. As previously mentioned, she lives off favors. These keep her constantly busy juggling a tangled web of commitments, investments, activism, and odd-jobs that she's perfectly satisfied living in the middle of. Income can be wildly inconsistent, but she's never been one to require much in the way of creature comforts. She's just as likely to blow a windfall on a hopeless cause as she is to devote it to a strategic endeavor. "Money," she says, "is just a means to an end, grease for the skids."

She toys with the idea of running for office but talks herself out of it, saying that nobody would vote for her anyway. Despite her modest self-assessment, the growing network of contacts she's been developing suggests she might get more support than she realizes.

Dichotomies

Wealth or Fame - "It's all in who you know."
Friends or Family - "I don't make close friends easy, but the few I have are basically family."
Power or Control - "I'm the spider dead center in the web."
Introvert or Extrovert - "There's nothing I love more than good company."
Order or Chaos - "A little strategic chaos keeps the omnipotent busybodies from getting too comfortable."
Freedom or Safety - "'Live free or die trying', I say."
Society or the Individual - "Society is people. Make a difference for one and you make a different society."
Generosity or Greed - "You give a little to get a little. Sometimes, well...sometimes people need me to give a little more."
Moral code or Instinct - "Scruples are what separates man from the animals."
Ego or Id - "Can't honestly say I've ever been accused of temperance or self control."
Nature or Nurture - "Pro tip: Yes, it's your fault and you can do better."
Thought or Action - "I'm a make-it-up-as-you-go kind of gal."
Instinct or Knowledge - "My gut has never let me down about what the right thing to do is."
Charity or Self-sufficiency - "Everybody needs somebody sometime."
Home or the Road - "Give me a warm house and somebody to share it with on all the days that end in 'Y'."
Contentment or Challenge - "Look, I don't go crusading for lost causes. They seek me out. They know I"m easy."

Pools

Injuries: [ ] [ ] [ ]

Wounds: [ ] [ ] [ ]

Anguish: [ ] [ ] [ ]

CERTES		QUALIA
Accuracy: 3/3	Movement: 1/1	Sorcery: 5/5	Interaction: 4/4
Physicality: 3/3	Perception: 4/4	Intelligence: 1/1	Sortilege: 3/3

Hidden Knowledge: 12

Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour

TheRaconteur · March 12

Chapter I - Act II: Games of Chance

Sooth Deck: The Enticing Jewel

Effects: Effective level of all Invisible magic is raised by 1, or Sorcery cost reduced by 1

Divination: "When the Enticing Jewel is turned, everything focuses upon it. Most of the time, this is one of the most positive cards that can be revealed. It indicates success in one’s endeavor. It suggests beauty and wealth. At the very least, even if not actual success, the Enticing Jewel is the potential for success, which in itself can be encouraging (because sometimes there is no possibility for success). Still, the card has a darker side, because it also suggests greed and a love of wealth, and the dangers of such things."

If their guide disapproved of Felicia's aesthetic alterations to what was essentially her hall pass, she didn't voice her protestations outwardly. The magic of the ephemera initially resisted the Maker's attempts, the power expended when the card had burned. She realized quickly how alien it felt compared to what she'd been taught to make, or rather, what she'd been taught to Make. She was a Maker, and while there was a professionalism to the Ephemeral card, it had been born of a very different mindset. Simultaneously too rigid and unbending, yet somehow also too organic. It gave her a bit of insight into the Vancian mind, and how it deviated from the structure and methodology of her own Order.

The Magister in question initially refrained from interrupting when Shuistliel began speaking, though he'd never been his pupil. Magister Kuros taught Advanced Flight Mechanics, instructing those higher up in the Order than Shuistliel. Still, he showed his fellow Vance some respect under the smiling eyes of Magus Moroe. As the story dragged on though, he became more impatient. Eventually, he cut the other Vance off with a wave of his hand. As he did, a contingent of the azure butterflies broke off from his mantle and descended to the desk beneath him, alighting upon a small and ornately carved wooden box that he had resting there. Working as a team shouldn't have been enough, yet somehow they were able to pull the lid open.

"Yes, yes, it sounds like the authorities will manage."

When said authorities might intervene was anyone's guess, as the Vislae hadn't made any attempt to contact the Gerent of the Cascades.

"What I'm not seeing is the academic merit of committing my own resources to your endeavors. I'm of course possessed of a Conation Incantation that would serve your needs perfectly. Yet such an expenditure of Sorcery, twice in one day? I've not even had lunch."

The azure swarm pushed the dark wood box across the table so that the three of them could see inside better. Within, a beautiful opal rested upon a velvet pillow, deep purple and blue hues reflective of the light around them. The stone was about the size of a thumbnail, and as they looked closer they could make out six other empty indentations in the cushion where similar stones might go.

"Oh, don't frown at me Magus Moroe, I've already more than met my obligations to the campus today. If your guests were to commit to assisting me in my ongoing research by restocking my supply of Cordovin Stones? Then we might be able to come to an arrangement. Without that promise? Well if I'd wanted to spend my days taxiing around Vislae who can't even bend the second principal of gravity unescorted I'd have bought a bloody aircab, now wouldn't I?"

It seemed someone else had already imposed themselves on the Magister's talents that day, and they were already the second to do so.

Threads

Go talk to the Unkindness
- Talk with Magister Kuros about flight
  - Accept the Magister's bargain
  - Find a different way to fly

The old man in question hadn't seen her coming, but evidently he'd heard her footsteps approaching. His back was turned, but he'd held out a hand to give her the floor just as she'd drawn near. What he hadn't been expecting was for the person approaching to be Xanah, because he let out a little huff of surprise when she actually spoke and turned sharply to take her in.

"Shoulda known you'd be sticking your nose in this."

He huffed, and she didn't need to strain to hear the disapproval in his voice.

"Another new member of the Paresaad I've yet to meet, Cantral?"

Magister Lui inquired, their voice manifesting more in the mind than it did in the air about them.

"No, but possessed of the same busybody spirit."

The Cantral responded self-deprecatingly. Before he could say another word though, Lui was projecting again, evidently more than pleased to have doubled the size of their audience.

"Good enough, then as I was saying, it's not difficult at all to steal someone's name, once two basic criterion are met. The first is the most obvious, you need to know someone's Secret Name in order to steal it. Once that has been achieved? Well the Long Form Magic required isn't particularly complicated to pull off, the issue is the aftershock. You can't steal any being's Secret Name without losing your own, gifting it to them in the transference. That second criteria is the one that makes it so unlikely. The psychic trauma of losing one's name and being forced into another is severe, but in such a working intent matters. Compared to the damage of that wound being self-inflicted? Essentially killing off your Secret Name yourself in order to graft it onto another's soul?"

The Magister shivered at the thought, and reached for a half-eaten croissant with a trio of cards to finish where they'd left off. The old man pinched at the bridge of his nose, the go to tell when he was thinking. It seemed he'd already been on a similar track, which explained his Aytherlink message earlier that morning. He'd sought out the Magister for the same reason Xanah had.

"Is that what you've encountered then, Postulant Busybody?"

A not so subtle reminder of how much her previous do-gooding had cost her. Not that he strenuously objected to what she'd done, he just didn't believe in acting without a full accounting of all of the possible ramifications of the response, a tricky praxis to hold given the often urgent nature of his work with the Paresaad. The problem was, what the Magister was describing wasn't what they had encountered. Shuistliel had described the name of their House's primary occupant being changed, he'd said it was gone.

Threads

Go talk to the Unkindness
- Speak with Cantral Grigori's people at the Clocktower about the Ravens
- Talk with Magister Kuros about flight
- Learn more about names from Magister Lui

Edited March 12 by TheRaconteur (see edit history)

Amora · March 12

Felicia Ainsworth

"I'd presume you recall the first person who asked for your assistance today? I mean obviously there may have been no idea of the possible intent but it's a rather fascinating set of coincidences... Especially with the aggrieved parties involved. Quite literally paragons of the archetype." the Maker asked after a moment to allow the Magister his piece and pride. There wasn't a hint of accusation in her tone, merely a mild curiosity at the possibility of connection there as she considered the Vance's counter proposal. Something about Cordovin stones rested just so in memory that it felt... familiar. Not quite in the way of a brush in hand or how the Chorus shrieked, howled, and rent at the walls of her mind and soul. A task they were happily engaged in right now, goading her onwards towards one thing or another to rip and tear secrets from Magister Kuros and skip the tedium of this negotiation and contemplation. That was one party anyway, the older... more worryingly clever sorts within the maelstrom of daemonic energy she housed within her... whispered of more delicate, drawn out approaches.

Either way, she watched the Magister with those particular eyes of hers... The weight of the stare compounding with each second as more and more of the Chorus paid just a fraction of a mind outwards to take a better measure of the man. Such fixation bought her just a moment to focus on what and how she might know of Cordovin stones. The hazy frameworks of a memory rising from somewhere deep in the past; a rough texture but light as feathers with a distinctly wind catching hue... Set in a ring assembly of some sort with quiet, incessant tick tick tick of churning gears.

Character Arcs

Establishment - Current Step: The Need for Proof
Develop a Bond - Current Step: Getting to Know You

Description

Description

It's the eyes, really, that most fixate upon first. The hues of crimson and gold spinning, twisting, merging in their depths as they seem to give a clear window into the utter depths of Felicia's mind with their uniquely expressive quality. That there feels to be a thousand, a hundred thousand, pairs of eyes staring back from behind those initial windows to the soul only seems to cement the impression of something troublesome, something worrying to compliment the elfin quality of her sharp features and diminutive frame. That sensation of malice, of gleeful cruelty, welling up from somewhere in those depths even as she comports herself with nothing but cheerful, if stoic, mannerisms and inexhaustible impressions of attention to the minute aesthetics of every gesture, motion, and twist of both herself and the world around her.

In matters of garb, she tends to play to the company she plans for with blouses, dresses, and pants of riotous colors among the bohemian communes of Fartown to the carefully coordinated yet still somehow esoteric gowns and suits of high society galas and soirees. Each and every ensemble meticulously planned and coordinated like one of the great works of her brushes. The only break from this carefully crafted aesthetic seems to be her hair, pale and bloodless as her complexion. It's length healthy, glossy, and well tended but cursed with creative differences in how it curls and falls. Despite this, it seems always to blend, practically meld, seamlessly into any trim of fur or feather that might adorn a chosen outfit.

Like those glimpses of alien malice and cruelty in the depths of her eyes, there always seems to be a discordant element that shadows her. Whether it be a flicker of something other in the crimson depths of her eyes, the way her shadow seems to twitch and twist without her ever moving, or how her reflection never quite seems to be her... It becomes all too clear that her body and soul might be host to something besides merely the artist... Worse still is the careful and delicate work of brush and needle; whisking away bruises here, deep scratches or cuts there, all damning evidence of struggles with the self.

In the Guise of Immanis

The energies of the Abyss are, by its very nature, an instrument of the Dark and unkind as a rule to the essential fabric of whatever is and may be. It is only by the tempering elements of the Gold Sun that the taking in of such hostile energies is more than merely an elaborate form of suicide. The raw stresses of this are quite evident then when Madame Ainsworth invokes so terrible a spell. Her already pale skin grows to be a lifeless gray, gaining an unseemly translucence that is easily pierced by even the wane light of Fartown beneath the Indigo Sun. The lines and forms of every bone visible from just the right angles as they shatter, stretch, and mend with an agonizing rapidity to drag her up to a daunting height. Sinew, muscle and tendon all the while snapping, recoiling, and reforming to accommodate this new and predatory bearing. Veins and arteries, in kind, flow with noxious black as the corruptive energies swirl and take root, her eyes draining of that distinct crimson and gold hue leaving only a single prick of light nearly drowned in a sea of impenetrable black.

Were that these the extent of the horrors wrought by the invoking of the Eye of Immanis for one can't help but stare as razor-like teeth push aside whatever may block their way, twisting and gnarling the line of gum and tooth to pierce and part the flesh of the cheek revealing a hideous, too broad maw. A likewise change playing out in the hands as bones shatter and twist as tendons and sinew reinforce to accommodate the agonizingly slow-yet-quick emergence of seven inch talons, black as jet, that now adorn each finger tip. This final change marking the ultimate perversion, turning tools of creation to tools of abject and potent destruction.

Pools

Certes

Accuracy: 3/3

Movement: 3/3

Physicality: 1/3

Perception: 4/4

Qualia

Sorcery: 6/6

Interaction: 6/6 (+3 from Signature Item)

Intellect: 1/3

Sortilege: 1/2

Hidden Knowledge: 9

Injuries:

Wounds:

Anguish:

Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour

Edited March 13 by Amora (see edit history)

Ganurath · March 13

Aldrion Phect

So, that was a Cordovin Stone. Aldrion had heard of them before, as magical orbs were something of a thing for him, but what the Magister was describing... On one hand, the resources that the Magister enjoyed were enviable. On the other, this Kuros guy was a pretentious blowhard that he'd be glad to not have to interact with outside of today's events. Still, interact he must, and it sounded as though doing so would give him insight into the man's source of Cordovin Stones.

At Felicia chiming in, Aldrion frown was thankfully concealed by his scarf, although he did glance her way. He could see how she might've misunderstood things, but- He'd just clarify. "We don't know that the assistance provided for the previous Vance was to reach the ravens too, just that the esteemed Magister here took time out of his day to provide it."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Aldrion turned his goggled head back to the Magister in question. With his eyes obscured as they were, he'd gotten into the habit of turning his head where he was focused, particularly in conversation. "That said, we're in a time sensitive situation as well, as Felicia's translation magic is of an ephemeral nature, and communication with the ravens - one of the aggrieved parties - is rather important to solving our problem. I'm amenable to the general concept of your proposal, so long as the particulars of the timetable don't become an issue."

Character Arcs

Uncover a SecretThere is knowledge out there that you want. This
arc is a great way to get one of the secrets in the
chapter Character and House Secrets that the GM
has said aren’t readily available. Likewise, it could
be an attempt to find and learn a specific rare spell
or ritual. This could also be a hunt for a lost magic
word or key that will open a sealed door, the name
of a devil, the secret name of an important person,
or just how the arabast fashioned their windows in
ancient times.

Cost: Seeker. You pay a cost of 2 Acumen.

Opening: Naming the Secret. 1 Acumen reward.
You give your goal a name. “I am seeking the lost
martial art of the Khendrix, who could slice steel
with their bare hands.”

Step(s): Research. 1 Acumen reward. You scour
libraries and old tomes for clues and information.

Step(s): Investigation. 1 Acumen reward. You talk
to people to gain clues and information.
Step(s): Tracking. 1 Acumen reward. You track
down the source of the secret information and travel
to it.

Climax: Revelation. 2 Acumen reward. You find
and attempt to use the secret, whatever that entails.
A successful resolution results in 1 Joy. Failure
results in 1 Despair.

Resolution: 1 Acumen reward. You contemplate
how this secret affects you and the world. - Current Step: Seeker
CleanseSomeone or something has been contaminated,
probably by foul magic, and you want to rid them
of such influences. This might be a curse, a
possession, an infestation, or something else.

Cost: Becoming Aware of the Need. You pay a cost
of 2 Acumen.

Opening: Analyzing the Threat. 1 Acumen
reward. You determine the nature of the
contamination.

Step: Find the Solution. 2 Acumen reward.
Almost every contamination has its own particular
solution, and this likely involves research and
consultation.

Step: Getting Ready. 1 Acumen reward. The
solution probably involves materials, spells, or other
things that you must gather and prepare.

Climax: The Cleansing. 3 Acumen reward. You
confront the contamination. A successful resolution
results in 1 Joy. Failure results in 1 Despair.
Resolution: 1 Acumen reward. You reflect on the
events that have transpired and what effects they
might have on the future. How can you keep this
from happening again? - Current Step: Analyzing the Threat

Description

Aldrion prefers to cover up, as his time in the Shadow working in repairs instilled him with an appreciation of proper protection. He has a scar over one eyebrow, presumably from a narrow miss taken during the war. He favors a style that mixes plain colors with the odd splash of supernatural hues, often in shades of or near indigo in representation of his newfound appreciation for the truth.

Pools

Certes

Accuracy: 2/2

Movement: 3/3

Physicality: 2/2

Perception: 2/2

Qualia

Sorcery: 8/8

Interaction: 3/3

Intellect: 2/3

Sortilege: 3/3

Hidden Knowledge: 11

Injuries:

Wounds:

Anguish:

Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour

Gryphon173 · March 14

Shuistliel

Shuistliel shrugged and said, "We can commit to working to replenish the stones, Master Kuros. However, as my companion said, we're on a tight timetable at the moment, so it will have to be secondary to solving the issue in Fartown. Would it be acceptable to you, that we work on the issue of the replenishment after we complete our investigation? Or at least, conclude we aren't getting anywhere and should turn to other matters?"

The green-eyed Vancian could be quite smooth when he wanted to be, but it was proving to be rather difficult in this case. Kuros seems to have ignored Shuistliel's statement that time was of the essence, and so he was half-expecting the higher-ranked Vancian to insist they replenish the stones first. He really did feel a sense of urgency. Truespiders were powerful, were known to work together, and the...one from whom he received forbearance to live in the house had lost its name. The others would not take that kindly, and if they got involved in retribution en masse, Suns above and below knew what form that retribution might take. But Liel rather thought it'd be bad for the little people in the region, whatever it might be.

Edited March 15 by Gryphon173 (see edit history)

TheRaconteur · March 14

Chapter I - Act II: Games of Chance

Sooth Deck: The Enticing Jewel

Effects: Effective level of all Invisible magic is raised by 1, or Sorcery cost reduced by 1

Divination: "When the Enticing Jewel is turned, everything focuses upon it. Most of the time, this is one of the most positive cards that can be revealed. It indicates success in one’s endeavor. It suggests beauty and wealth. At the very least, even if not actual success, the Enticing Jewel is the potential for success, which in itself can be encouraging (because sometimes there is no possibility for success). Still, the card has a darker side, because it also suggests greed and a love of wealth, and the dangers of such things."

Felicia had never heard of a Cordovin Stone, though she was pretty sure that...

"Hxxthi kiir kruusa... run, flee... hurl the Anathema into the Abyss... their sins will ignite upon the plains unseen!"

The Chorus screamed. A dozen voices, more than she'd ever heard before, more than she'd even thought possible. They revolted at the sight of the Stone. Their rage was a palpable thing, a searing pressure at her temples that made it feel like her head was about to explode. They were a wall, immobile and unchanging, stopping her from moving closer to it. They were an unending magnetism, drawing her to it. The Chorus was generally in a constant state of flux, their demands eternally in conflict. Even in this, their desires were myriad. What they wanted her to do about it was a matter of considerable and violent debate, but their hatred of the Cordovin Stone was absolute and unified.

"One of those militia types we have here, the Paresaad I think they said."

Magister Kuros answered, waving the question away with another dismissive gesture. As they did, the azure swarm closed the lid with a decisive click. With the offending object obscured the Chorus' rage dampened, but did not fully dissolve.

"With Magus Moroe standing here as witness to your commitments, I'm more than comfortable generously offering my services now for nothing more than the promise of the materials I require being delivered before the end of the week. Five of them, more if you wish to remain in my good graces."

It gave them three days to procure the goods. Aldrion had indeed heard of them before, though mostly rumors and speculation. Still, it was enough that had he known the truth of the disquiet Felicia was experiencing at the stone's presence, would likely have been able to hypothesize on the origins of the Chorus' distress. It was just a theory, of course, one of countless, but the idea of it was thrilling to the Apostate.

"I've even a promising lead on where within the Ruined Expanses they might be found. Or at least, from where my existing batch was procured."

Even for Vislae brimming with magic, the Ruined Expanses was not a small ask. Whatever these stones were, acquiring more would be no easy task.

Threads

Go talk to the Unkindness
- Talk with Magister Kuros about flight
  - Accept the Magister's bargain
  - Find a different way to fly

Edited March 15 by TheRaconteur (see edit history)

Amora · March 15

Felicia Ainsworth

It was on the tip of her metaphorical tongue, some hazy recollection of a facet of the opal stone.. and as it stood on the cusp of full realization... It was scoured from her thoughts...

Scattered to the damned winds of the Red Sun as the Chorus howled, screamed, clawed, battered, and destroyed in their attempts to compel her, to drive her, to force violent, decisive action in a thousand fold directions against, about, and around the stone. There was no coherency, no differentiating one voice from another as they shrieked, shouted, and screamed in languages familiar and forgotten as often as tongues alien and unknown. The walls that divided them from her crashing down in calamitous ruins, drawing her attentions violently inward with one hand rocketing up to grasp at her head whilst the other sought stability, balance, something to ground and steady her out of raw instinct as much as any conscious instruction from the mind and soul of the Maker, herself.

That searching hand found the edge of the table soon enough with pale fingers, the raw force of the grip eliciting protesting groans as the Chorus quieted but only just. That hatred, that roaring rage, burned through her brain as teeth ground and she tried to force herself to breath. Tried to force away the feelings of sudden, choking claustrophobia, of paralyzing vulnerability, of a sheer and abject terror of the stone that rested in the tastefully appointed box of velvets and varnished hardwoods. Her shadow, all the while, twisted and wrenched from shape to shape. Anything and everything that was not her or in line with the way the light fell into the room.

Even her reflection seeming to fall victim, in part, to the many figures that clamored for some kind of control.

An unpleasant sensation of warmth spread along her skull then, nearly lost beneath the searing headache that transfixed from temple to temple as the Chorus continued in it's riotous, hateful clamor within the depths of mind and soul. It was the growing mortification though of the circumstances and an audience to this episode that dragged her focus back into the moment, back into the exterior present.

There were going to be questions... and they weren't the sort she was going to answer.

Not yet anyway.

"A... lead you said, the ruinous expanses?"

Her eyes now were pointedly on the Magister, the gold flecks in their crimson depths no longer floating in lazy orbits but seeming to wildly rifle about. That malice and hatred that seemed ever present in them magnified and the feeling of all too many other pairs of eyes lingering there too but fixated, obsessed, with the box that contained the stone.

Character Arcs

Establishment - Current Step: The Need for Proof
Develop a Bond - Current Step: Getting to Know You

Description

Description

It's the eyes, really, that most fixate upon first. The hues of crimson and gold spinning, twisting, merging in their depths as they seem to give a clear window into the utter depths of Felicia's mind with their uniquely expressive quality. That there feels to be a thousand, a hundred thousand, pairs of eyes staring back from behind those initial windows to the soul only seems to cement the impression of something troublesome, something worrying to compliment the elfin quality of her sharp features and diminutive frame. That sensation of malice, of gleeful cruelty, welling up from somewhere in those depths even as she comports herself with nothing but cheerful, if stoic, mannerisms and inexhaustible impressions of attention to the minute aesthetics of every gesture, motion, and twist of both herself and the world around her.

In matters of garb, she tends to play to the company she plans for with blouses, dresses, and pants of riotous colors among the bohemian communes of Fartown to the carefully coordinated yet still somehow esoteric gowns and suits of high society galas and soirees. Each and every ensemble meticulously planned and coordinated like one of the great works of her brushes. The only break from this carefully crafted aesthetic seems to be her hair, pale and bloodless as her complexion. It's length healthy, glossy, and well tended but cursed with creative differences in how it curls and falls. Despite this, it seems always to blend, practically meld, seamlessly into any trim of fur or feather that might adorn a chosen outfit.

Like those glimpses of alien malice and cruelty in the depths of her eyes, there always seems to be a discordant element that shadows her. Whether it be a flicker of something other in the crimson depths of her eyes, the way her shadow seems to twitch and twist without her ever moving, or how her reflection never quite seems to be her... It becomes all too clear that her body and soul might be host to something besides merely the artist... Worse still is the careful and delicate work of brush and needle; whisking away bruises here, deep scratches or cuts there, all damning evidence of struggles with the self.

In the Guise of Immanis

The energies of the Abyss are, by its very nature, an instrument of the Dark and unkind as a rule to the essential fabric of whatever is and may be. It is only by the tempering elements of the Gold Sun that the taking in of such hostile energies is more than merely an elaborate form of suicide. The raw stresses of this are quite evident then when Madame Ainsworth invokes so terrible a spell. Her already pale skin grows to be a lifeless gray, gaining an unseemly translucence that is easily pierced by even the wane light of Fartown beneath the Indigo Sun. The lines and forms of every bone visible from just the right angles as they shatter, stretch, and mend with an agonizing rapidity to drag her up to a daunting height. Sinew, muscle and tendon all the while snapping, recoiling, and reforming to accommodate this new and predatory bearing. Veins and arteries, in kind, flow with noxious black as the corruptive energies swirl and take root, her eyes draining of that distinct crimson and gold hue leaving only a single prick of light nearly drowned in a sea of impenetrable black.

Were that these the extent of the horrors wrought by the invoking of the Eye of Immanis for one can't help but stare as razor-like teeth push aside whatever may block their way, twisting and gnarling the line of gum and tooth to pierce and part the flesh of the cheek revealing a hideous, too broad maw. A likewise change playing out in the hands as bones shatter and twist as tendons and sinew reinforce to accommodate the agonizingly slow-yet-quick emergence of seven inch talons, black as jet, that now adorn each finger tip. This final change marking the ultimate perversion, turning tools of creation to tools of abject and potent destruction.

Pools

Certes

Accuracy: 3/3

Movement: 3/3

Physicality: 1/3

Perception: 4/4

Qualia

Sorcery: 6/6

Interaction: 6/6 (+3 from Signature Item)

Intellect: 1/3

Sortilege: 1/2

Hidden Knowledge: 10

Injuries:

Wounds:

Anguish:

Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour

Edited March 15 by Amora (see edit history)

Gryphon173 · March 15

Shuistliel

Shuistliel noted Ainsworth's outward reaction, ignorant of the turmoil the multitudes within her caused. Still, she looked like she might do something hasty, and he decided to try to distract her.

"I will return to get the information about the Expanses, Magister," the Postulate said to the more adept Vancian. Liel is a Vancian in good standing with the Academy; he wouldn't risk that by dodging his debt to Kuros. "We should get started on speaking with the corvids as soon as possible." He moved in to stand right next to Felicia, reaching across her gaze to point at the box, but not touch it. "We will bring you five stones, enough to fill it as it is today, and it's my hope that we're agreed."

Hoping that breaking her line of sight to the box was sufficient to the task of letting Ainsworth regroup, Liel wondered if the Magus would dither, or if they were about to be airborne. That was a bag of mixed feelings. The last time Shuistliel had flown, it had been in Shadow, and things had been very different. Something about whirling scythes holding you aloft, one of Liel's former Army associates having somehow "retired" a Huey, whatever the hell that was. Their cargo had been weapons and all of them had been heavily armed. Then, the moment passed, and he was free of the memory. Shadow memories always bothered him, and perhaps always would. He'd been very different in Shadow. Hell, I wasn't even male in Shadow, he thought, knowing that was the piece that made him the most uncomfortable. It wasn't dysphoria -- the transformation to the real world had made him comfortable with his own skin -- but it was akin to it.

Aavarius · March 15

Xanah

She took a great deal of pride in her spider's web of favors and contacts, so naturally, Xanah wanted to bristle at the 'busybody' name. Wanted to, but didn't. She'd earned it, and was adult enough to understand when it was best just to take her licks and try not to earn them again. The Old Man knew precisely how to get under her skin, but she trusted that he would only go as far as it took to make the lesson stick.

She tried her best to give both a quick accounting of what she had found out as well as to clarify Magister Lui's misconception. "A proper kerfuffle broke out between a... a..." Xanah suddenly couldn't quite get the word out. She broke out into a coughing fit, sweet smelling cigar smoke puffing out between her fingers as she covered her mouth. Her throat burned like she had swallowed an ember and it took her a little bit to recover. While she did, the other Vances present could see a vislae rune formed in the curls of dissipating smoke that formed the sigil for "truespider".

When she got herself back together, Xanah said, "Between...that and a trueraven's respective broods. The whole of the Cascades neighborhood has become their warzone." Xanah looked over to the Magister as she said the next part. "One of the Brood of Kull reports the raven's envoy stole another truespider matron's name entirely, winking the very notion of it out of existence. None that knew the name can recall it at all. Kull's nest appears to be under lockdown out of an abundance of caution, while the aggrieved spider's brood have locked down the rest of the neighborhood for purposes of capturing and interrogating any raven they can get their webs on.

"I haven't heard the ravens' side of the story yet, so I'm here with a colleague to to hear them out." She gave her mentor a nod. "Before I make an uninformed action," she told him. See? She could look before she leaped. "Return the name, end the war in the streets. It doesn't matter who has it, only that this ends before the Thah show up."

She didn't need to say the rest, that anything powerful enough to nick the name off a truespider in its own domain was proper fearsome. The two senior Vances probably understood the magnitude of it better than she did. That Thah enforcers from the city heart might be inclined to lay down order if this street war ballooned too large was just as problematic for the rest of the neighborhood. A lot of locals might get caught in the middle if the truespider decided to resist them. That was equally as obvious.

Character Arcs

Join an Organization

As an arachnophile, I'm being groomed to join the Cacophony, an association of spiders whose name only really makes sense to spiders. They seek to establish diplomatic ties with the Angular Serpentine.

Current Step: The decision to join
- For now, I remain ignorant that I'm being considered for invitation.

Aid a Friend

Aldrion Phect wishes to rescue his spouse from Shadow, but first he must Uncover the Secret of how such a task might even be possible. I'm too closeted a romantic to tell him I can't resist helping somebody reunite with their loved one.

Current Step: Agreeing to help
- I've agreed to help, but Aldrion and I haven't discussed it further.

Description

Appearance

Xanah and the possessions on her person lose color saturation in proportion to her amount of sunlight exposure. She's completely grayscale in broad daylight. She otherwise sports a head of medium-length red-brown hair, copper colored eyes, and a fair complexion. Xanah is of unremarkable height and build, a slim physique that belies a lifetime of overindulging. It's only her constantly moving workaholic ethic that keeps her in shape. Her clothing usually favors practicality and comfort, never one to indulge in fashionable fads. Ever conscientious of her habits, Xanah always smells faintly of cinnamon and spice.

Personality

Lives on coffee, cigars, and favors.
Fiercely individualist to a fault.
A tarnished heart of gold.
Tendency to overindulge.
A patron of lost causes, shooter of troubles, slayer of dragons, walker of tightropes, and runner with scissors.
Banned from kitchens across the Actuality for abject culinary incompetence.
Never met a stranger before but carefully chooses close friendships
A closeted romantic, almost disgustingly so.
Her sharp tongue and compulsion to kick hornets' nests and turn over rocks makes many enemies. In her Order she's been demoted twice for it.

Occupation

Xanah describes herself as "creatively entrepreneurial," which is to say she doesn't actually have a traditional occupation. As previously mentioned, she lives off favors. These keep her constantly busy juggling a tangled web of commitments, investments, activism, and odd-jobs that she's perfectly satisfied living in the middle of. Income can be wildly inconsistent, but she's never been one to require much in the way of creature comforts. She's just as likely to blow a windfall on a hopeless cause as she is to devote it to a strategic endeavor. "Money," she says, "is just a means to an end, grease for the skids."

She toys with the idea of running for office but talks herself out of it, saying that nobody would vote for her anyway. Despite her modest self-assessment, the growing network of contacts she's been developing suggests she might get more support than she realizes.

Dichotomies

Wealth or Fame - "It's all in who you know."
Friends or Family - "I don't make close friends easy, but the few I have are basically family."
Power or Control - "I'm the spider dead center in the web."
Introvert or Extrovert - "There's nothing I love more than good company."
Order or Chaos - "A little strategic chaos keeps the omnipotent busybodies from getting too comfortable."
Freedom or Safety - "'Live free or die trying', I say."
Society or the Individual - "Society is people. Make a difference for one and you make a different society."
Generosity or Greed - "You give a little to get a little. Sometimes, well...sometimes people need me to give a little more."
Moral code or Instinct - "Scruples are what separates man from the animals."
Ego or Id - "Can't honestly say I've ever been accused of temperance or self control."
Nature or Nurture - "Pro tip: Yes, it's your fault and you can do better."
Thought or Action - "I'm a make-it-up-as-you-go kind of gal."
Instinct or Knowledge - "My gut has never let me down about what the right thing to do is."
Charity or Self-sufficiency - "Everybody needs somebody sometime."
Home or the Road - "Give me a warm house and somebody to share it with on all the days that end in 'Y'."
Contentment or Challenge - "Look, I don't go crusading for lost causes. They seek me out. They know I"m easy."

Pools

Injuries: [ ] [ ] [ ]

Wounds: [ ] [ ] [ ]

Anguish: [ ] [ ] [ ]

CERTES		QUALIA
Accuracy: 3/3	Movement: 1/1	Sorcery: 5/5	Interaction: 4/4
Physicality: 3/3	Perception: 4/4	Intelligence: 1/1	Sortilege: 3/3

Hidden Knowledge: 12

Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour

Edited March 21 by Aavarius (see edit history)

TheRaconteur · March 17

Chapter I - Act II: Games of Chance

Sooth Deck: The Enticing Jewel

Effects: Effective level of all Invisible magic is raised by 1, or Sorcery cost reduced by 1

Divination: "When the Enticing Jewel is turned, everything focuses upon it. Most of the time, this is one of the most positive cards that can be revealed. It indicates success in one’s endeavor. It suggests beauty and wealth. At the very least, even if not actual success, the Enticing Jewel is the potential for success, which in itself can be encouraging (because sometimes there is no possibility for success). Still, the card has a darker side, because it also suggests greed and a love of wealth, and the dangers of such things."

Magister Kuros shrugged, and made a beckoning signal with his fingers, and the detachment of azure butterflies closed the lid of the box and slid it back along the desk towards him. The entire compliment their left wing flew out, enough insects to surround the box on all sides and pick it up. Straining against the weight, they lifted it, and it disappeared back beneath the desk where he'd initially pulled it from. The Chorus still knew it was there though, and their opinion as to what Felicia should do about it had not changed. The screams became a dull roar, straining to gain control of her muscles, her magic. The urge to destroy was overwhelming, to leap across the table and smash both the box and what nestled within. She yearned for such ruination, and she knew the yearning was not her own.

"I sadly have office hours until the clock hits eleven, I'll meet you on the grounds outside the Hall of Seeking at that time."

Which would give them time to gather Xanah, assuming they wished to move as four and not three.

"Be there, as I won't bother to wait for you if you're not. I will provide you with a map that shows you were the Stones were last found as well. The nest should still be active."

Which was ominous. Were the Cordovin Stones eggs? It seemed Magister Kuros was not interested in elaborating, as he and his winged mantle were tidying up his papers and preparing to leave.

Threads

Go talk to the Unkindness
- Talk with Magister Kuros about flight
  - Accept the Magister's bargain

Edited March 17 by TheRaconteur (see edit history)

Amora · March 18

Felicia Ainsworth

The mask of composure, to say the least, was most certainly askew as the Maker spared but a moment's glance to the intervening Vance. A moment that seemed all too long as the gold in those crimson depths churned and twisted with ever greater speed. That unpleasant sensation of far too many eyes, far too many malign intellects fixated on them for a moment before following the trail of their arm back to where the Magister had hidden the hated box and it's reviled contents.

"Of course, we wouldn't dream to waste your time." the Maker offered in a soft voice, a voice that suggested a great deal of focus in the moment. The edges of panic subtle, nearly invisible but there for someone knowing what to look for. There was the real fear that she was losing, that her awareness would simply... cease and she would be left holding the bag when she was finally able to wrest control back from the multitudes within. The subtle twitch of muscle through her arms as she gripped the edge of the desk, the stuttering coiling of magic within her soul... The roar of their indignation and the growing, glowing pain that tugged and darkened the edges of her vision.

She needed to leave, she had needed to do so when the box had first been opened but that was a moment long gone.

It took far more than she cared to admit, then, to force her hands to relax... To release her from her death grip upon the table's edge and all it cost her was the grinding of her teeth into the meat of her cheek. Pain in their hands was one more tool... Pain in hers? It brought the promise of destruction in the wrong direction, to the wrong ends. It was just shy of enough to give her that moment that allowed her to utter what pleasantries she needed before turning and departing with a hurried, faltering sense of purpose that was very much at odds with the graceful, thoughtful economy of motion that was her norm.

To the canny observer, it seemed her shadow both did and did not wish to leave... Phantom hands clawing and grasping at the floor and almost seeming to pull the shadow of the table with them as she made her rapid exit from the classroom. The prohibitions of her visitor's visa forgotten for the moment as she sought distance with her focus constantly flitting inward and outward as the Chorus continued to roar within her, to batter now at her unshielded psyche over the grave mistake that was the continued existence of the Cordovin Stone and whatever nascent creature might be in it.

Character Arcs

Establishment - Current Step: The Need for Proof
Develop a Bond - Current Step: Getting to Know You

Description

Description

It's the eyes, really, that most fixate upon first. The hues of crimson and gold spinning, twisting, merging in their depths as they seem to give a clear window into the utter depths of Felicia's mind with their uniquely expressive quality. That there feels to be a thousand, a hundred thousand, pairs of eyes staring back from behind those initial windows to the soul only seems to cement the impression of something troublesome, something worrying to compliment the elfin quality of her sharp features and diminutive frame. That sensation of malice, of gleeful cruelty, welling up from somewhere in those depths even as she comports herself with nothing but cheerful, if stoic, mannerisms and inexhaustible impressions of attention to the minute aesthetics of every gesture, motion, and twist of both herself and the world around her.

In matters of garb, she tends to play to the company she plans for with blouses, dresses, and pants of riotous colors among the bohemian communes of Fartown to the carefully coordinated yet still somehow esoteric gowns and suits of high society galas and soirees. Each and every ensemble meticulously planned and coordinated like one of the great works of her brushes. The only break from this carefully crafted aesthetic seems to be her hair, pale and bloodless as her complexion. It's length healthy, glossy, and well tended but cursed with creative differences in how it curls and falls. Despite this, it seems always to blend, practically meld, seamlessly into any trim of fur or feather that might adorn a chosen outfit.

Like those glimpses of alien malice and cruelty in the depths of her eyes, there always seems to be a discordant element that shadows her. Whether it be a flicker of something other in the crimson depths of her eyes, the way her shadow seems to twitch and twist without her ever moving, or how her reflection never quite seems to be her... It becomes all too clear that her body and soul might be host to something besides merely the artist... Worse still is the careful and delicate work of brush and needle; whisking away bruises here, deep scratches or cuts there, all damning evidence of struggles with the self.

In the Guise of Immanis

The energies of the Abyss are, by its very nature, an instrument of the Dark and unkind as a rule to the essential fabric of whatever is and may be. It is only by the tempering elements of the Gold Sun that the taking in of such hostile energies is more than merely an elaborate form of suicide. The raw stresses of this are quite evident then when Madame Ainsworth invokes so terrible a spell. Her already pale skin grows to be a lifeless gray, gaining an unseemly translucence that is easily pierced by even the wane light of Fartown beneath the Indigo Sun. The lines and forms of every bone visible from just the right angles as they shatter, stretch, and mend with an agonizing rapidity to drag her up to a daunting height. Sinew, muscle and tendon all the while snapping, recoiling, and reforming to accommodate this new and predatory bearing. Veins and arteries, in kind, flow with noxious black as the corruptive energies swirl and take root, her eyes draining of that distinct crimson and gold hue leaving only a single prick of light nearly drowned in a sea of impenetrable black.

Were that these the extent of the horrors wrought by the invoking of the Eye of Immanis for one can't help but stare as razor-like teeth push aside whatever may block their way, twisting and gnarling the line of gum and tooth to pierce and part the flesh of the cheek revealing a hideous, too broad maw. A likewise change playing out in the hands as bones shatter and twist as tendons and sinew reinforce to accommodate the agonizingly slow-yet-quick emergence of seven inch talons, black as jet, that now adorn each finger tip. This final change marking the ultimate perversion, turning tools of creation to tools of abject and potent destruction.

Pools

Certes

Accuracy: 3/3

Movement: 3/3

Physicality: 1/3

Perception: 4/4

Qualia

Sorcery: 6/6

Interaction: 6/6 (+3 from Signature Item)

Intellect: 1/3

Sortilege: 1/2

Hidden Knowledge: 9

Injuries:

Wounds:

Anguish:

Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour

Edited March 18 by Amora (see edit history)

Gryphon173 · March 19

Shuistliel

Shuistliel quickly said, "We'll meet you at the appointed time and place once we find Xanah, sir." He rushed out after Felicia, gathering Aldrion with a gesture.

"Felicia, I can see you're in crisis," he says firmly and loudly to Felicia's back as she flees. "But if you move away from me or Xanah, we'll both pay penalties for letting you wander unescorted. Tell Aldrion and I how we can help." He is touching something in his satchel; Aldrion can see it's a slightly oversized top hat. Whatever it is, he is both ready to use it and reluctant to use it.

Amora · March 19

Felicia Ainsworth

"Just... Be quiet. Please." the Maker retorted with, at first, an ounce of venom, panic, and alien malice in her voice before softening and composing on the please. It was evident enough there was no further desire to flee or trespass upon the conditions of her present visa as she leaned against the wall, a hand rising to grasp at her head before pulling way to inspect the mess she had made of herself. The familiar stain of crimson told her all she needed to know as muscles spasmed with the lingering after shocks of the conflict that had just plaid out. Not that she was unaware of the damage she'd done, deliberately and otherwise, to herself in the moment as the essence of copper permeated her senses of taste and smell but... at least the illusion of control and equilibrium were restored. The divide between herself and the Chorus established once more, albeit tenuous as voices whispered venom and provocations against both Shuistliel and the Stone that lingered somewhere in the classroom she'd hurriedly left behind.

With her other hand, she clumsily produced a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped the blood from her hand and continued what seemed the tired and familiar rituals of triage as she remembered, belatedly, to breath and drew a bracing breath.

"The... stone was rather... destabilizing." the Maker offered in a far more composed and gentle tone but the sheer fatigue in it was unmistakable. The notes of lingering concern certainly more subtle... and a certain finality that would accept no further questions was abundantly clear.

Character Arcs

Establishment - Current Step: The Need for Proof
Develop a Bond - Current Step: Getting to Know You

Description

Description

It's the eyes, really, that most fixate upon first. The hues of crimson and gold spinning, twisting, merging in their depths as they seem to give a clear window into the utter depths of Felicia's mind with their uniquely expressive quality. That there feels to be a thousand, a hundred thousand, pairs of eyes staring back from behind those initial windows to the soul only seems to cement the impression of something troublesome, something worrying to compliment the elfin quality of her sharp features and diminutive frame. That sensation of malice, of gleeful cruelty, welling up from somewhere in those depths even as she comports herself with nothing but cheerful, if stoic, mannerisms and inexhaustible impressions of attention to the minute aesthetics of every gesture, motion, and twist of both herself and the world around her.

In matters of garb, she tends to play to the company she plans for with blouses, dresses, and pants of riotous colors among the bohemian communes of Fartown to the carefully coordinated yet still somehow esoteric gowns and suits of high society galas and soirees. Each and every ensemble meticulously planned and coordinated like one of the great works of her brushes. The only break from this carefully crafted aesthetic seems to be her hair, pale and bloodless as her complexion. It's length healthy, glossy, and well tended but cursed with creative differences in how it curls and falls. Despite this, it seems always to blend, practically meld, seamlessly into any trim of fur or feather that might adorn a chosen outfit.

Like those glimpses of alien malice and cruelty in the depths of her eyes, there always seems to be a discordant element that shadows her. Whether it be a flicker of something other in the crimson depths of her eyes, the way her shadow seems to twitch and twist without her ever moving, or how her reflection never quite seems to be her... It becomes all too clear that her body and soul might be host to something besides merely the artist... Worse still is the careful and delicate work of brush and needle; whisking away bruises here, deep scratches or cuts there, all damning evidence of struggles with the self.

In the Guise of Immanis

The energies of the Abyss are, by its very nature, an instrument of the Dark and unkind as a rule to the essential fabric of whatever is and may be. It is only by the tempering elements of the Gold Sun that the taking in of such hostile energies is more than merely an elaborate form of suicide. The raw stresses of this are quite evident then when Madame Ainsworth invokes so terrible a spell. Her already pale skin grows to be a lifeless gray, gaining an unseemly translucence that is easily pierced by even the wane light of Fartown beneath the Indigo Sun. The lines and forms of every bone visible from just the right angles as they shatter, stretch, and mend with an agonizing rapidity to drag her up to a daunting height. Sinew, muscle and tendon all the while snapping, recoiling, and reforming to accommodate this new and predatory bearing. Veins and arteries, in kind, flow with noxious black as the corruptive energies swirl and take root, her eyes draining of that distinct crimson and gold hue leaving only a single prick of light nearly drowned in a sea of impenetrable black.

Were that these the extent of the horrors wrought by the invoking of the Eye of Immanis for one can't help but stare as razor-like teeth push aside whatever may block their way, twisting and gnarling the line of gum and tooth to pierce and part the flesh of the cheek revealing a hideous, too broad maw. A likewise change playing out in the hands as bones shatter and twist as tendons and sinew reinforce to accommodate the agonizingly slow-yet-quick emergence of seven inch talons, black as jet, that now adorn each finger tip. This final change marking the ultimate perversion, turning tools of creation to tools of abject and potent destruction.

Pools

Certes

Accuracy: 3/3

Movement: 3/3

Physicality: 1/3

Perception: 4/4

Qualia

Sorcery: 6/6

Interaction: 6/6 (+3 from Signature Item)

Intellect: 2/3

Sortilege: 1/2

Hidden Knowledge: 10

Injuries:

Wounds:

Anguish:

Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour

Edited March 20 by Amora (see edit history)

Ganurath · March 19

Aldrion Phect

Aldrion was quick to follow after Liel, and not just because he didn't want to be alone with a Magister who seemed entirely too similar to the one who'd given him a poor first impression of the Order. Felicia was... The Ainsworth family was a complicated emotional mess for Aldrion, and that was just from the memories that made it through his time in Shadow. That, and the implications of lingering evidence. Despite all that, though, she was a neighbor in distress, and Aldrion was a far nicer person than a lot of the people in his life wanted him to be.

Pale lip marks glowed on his forehead as his mind went to those who held a contrary opinion. Aisling would definitely want him to help, and his mother... Despite everything, yes.

Thankfully, all she needed was quiet, at least in the short term. If she had to compose herself in the face of a single Corvodin Stone, how would she respond to the Magister's source of them? Or Aldrion's own stone, for that matter? If this was a common issue for Ainsworths, then some things his mother had done made a bit more sense. Still, that was a conversation nobody involved was in the mood to explore. Best to focus on the future. "I won't be upset if you wanted to leave the obligation to retrieve the stones to those that can bear to be around them."

Character Arcs

Uncover a SecretThere is knowledge out there that you want. This
arc is a great way to get one of the secrets in the
chapter Character and House Secrets that the GM
has said aren’t readily available. Likewise, it could
be an attempt to find and learn a specific rare spell
or ritual. This could also be a hunt for a lost magic
word or key that will open a sealed door, the name
of a devil, the secret name of an important person,
or just how the arabast fashioned their windows in
ancient times.

Cost: Seeker. You pay a cost of 2 Acumen.

Opening: Naming the Secret. 1 Acumen reward.
You give your goal a name. “I am seeking the lost
martial art of the Khendrix, who could slice steel
with their bare hands.”

Step(s): Research. 1 Acumen reward. You scour
libraries and old tomes for clues and information.

Step(s): Investigation. 1 Acumen reward. You talk
to people to gain clues and information.
Step(s): Tracking. 1 Acumen reward. You track
down the source of the secret information and travel
to it.

Climax: Revelation. 2 Acumen reward. You find
and attempt to use the secret, whatever that entails.
A successful resolution results in 1 Joy. Failure
results in 1 Despair.

Resolution: 1 Acumen reward. You contemplate
how this secret affects you and the world. - Current Step: Seeker
CleanseSomeone or something has been contaminated,
probably by foul magic, and you want to rid them
of such influences. This might be a curse, a
possession, an infestation, or something else.

Cost: Becoming Aware of the Need. You pay a cost
of 2 Acumen.

Opening: Analyzing the Threat. 1 Acumen
reward. You determine the nature of the
contamination.

Step: Find the Solution. 2 Acumen reward.
Almost every contamination has its own particular
solution, and this likely involves research and
consultation.

Step: Getting Ready. 1 Acumen reward. The
solution probably involves materials, spells, or other
things that you must gather and prepare.

Climax: The Cleansing. 3 Acumen reward. You
confront the contamination. A successful resolution
results in 1 Joy. Failure results in 1 Despair.
Resolution: 1 Acumen reward. You reflect on the
events that have transpired and what effects they
might have on the future. How can you keep this
from happening again? - Current Step: Analyzing the Threat

Description

Aldrion prefers to cover up, as his time in the Shadow working in repairs instilled him with an appreciation of proper protection. He has a scar over one eyebrow, presumably from a narrow miss taken during the war. He favors a style that mixes plain colors with the odd splash of supernatural hues, often in shades of or near indigo in representation of his newfound appreciation for the truth.

Pools

Certes

Accuracy: 2/2

Movement: 3/3

Physicality: 2/2

Perception: 2/2

Qualia

Sorcery: 8/8

Interaction: 3/3

Intellect: 2/3

Sortilege: 3/3

Hidden Knowledge: 11

Injuries:

Wounds:

Anguish:

Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour

TheRaconteur · March 20

Chapter I - Act II: Games of Chance

Sooth Deck: The Enticing Jewel

Effects: Effective level of all Invisible magic is raised by 1, or Sorcery cost reduced by 1

Divination: "When the Enticing Jewel is turned, everything focuses upon it. Most of the time, this is one of the most positive cards that can be revealed. It indicates success in one’s endeavor. It suggests beauty and wealth. At the very least, even if not actual success, the Enticing Jewel is the potential for success, which in itself can be encouraging (because sometimes there is no possibility for success). Still, the card has a darker side, because it also suggests greed and a love of wealth, and the dangers of such things."

Xanah's distress was evidently enough to break through Magister Lui's academic indifference and general self-absorption. With fingers that looked to be made of cardstock and not flesh, they brushed the last crumbs of the croissant off of lips made of the same seemingly frail material. A single card flickered off of their forehead, revealing not skin, muscles, or bone beneath, but a hollow darkness within them. A yawning cavern devoid of anything, one that disappeared once another card slid into place. The card withdrawn fluttered and spun before them, pirouetting in the air between Xanah and where they sat. Finally it slowed, revealing that it was indeed a Sooth Card. Beautifully printed, it depicted an exquisite Vislae hunched over a smoking alembic. The borders of the card, as well as the alembic and the ornate hem of the Vislae's robe were all embossed with gold, bringing light and contrast to the otherwise deeply red hued illustration.

The Alchemist, the suggestion that there was far more to the situation than was previously understood.

"This conversation isn't academic then, is it Cantral?"

Xanah did not have to strain to hear the delight in Magister Lui's otherwise breathy voice. The old man grunted an annoyed assent, though he hardly need have bothered.

"Someone has been stealing names, consequences be damned. Oh how delightful. It will be easy to narrow down your list of suspects then, assuming you have any. The distress your young imitator here is experiencing is only a small portion of what the thief will be enduring. That sort of self-inflicted corruption? It leaves a stain. Even a non would be able to perceive it."

The card flickered back into the greater whole of them, the furrowed brow of the Alchemist resting securely of the Magister's own forehead.

"Should you catch the culprit, I'd very much like to speak with them."

Konstantin started to raise an objection, but quickly found themselves cut off.

"Consider it my consultation fee, Cantral. Now if you'll excuse me, I've a lecture to prepare for."

They rose, but not before a dozen more cards shot out and collected a half a dozen small plates each containing half eaten hors d'oeuvres. There was not an inch of them that did not appear to have been replaced with Soothe Cards, and as Xanah saw no repeating copies, it appeared that each card was unique. All were exquisite, a riot of color and metallic foil. The Magister wore only a black skirt, their printed skin otherwise bare, their body thin and willowy. As they rose further it became clear that they had the gift of flight as well, for no legs could be seen touching the ground beneath them. It seemed instead that they had folded their legs up as if sitting upon the ground, and merely drifted in the direction of the back stairwell. They took the rest of their meal with them, an orbiting ring of snacks that surrounded them as they departed.

As they made their way out of the dining room and down the main stairwell of the Hall of Respite, Konstantin made a disapproving noise.

"Xanah."

He only used her name when he was trying to be serious.

"I get why you're involved in this, and honestly if my House were caught up in the middle of a turf war I'd be sticking my nose in too. But you need to know that this has already gone beyond Spiders and Ravens."

His hand had wandered over to his holstered wand as he walked, resting comfortably on the worn grips. She'd come to learn that it was another of his tells that gave away when he was concerned about something, and the fact that he was often concerned about something was well evidenced by the fact that the groves in the wand appeared so well worn.

"A Senior and once respected member of Campus staff has had their name stripped as well."

The instant he even hinted at it she realized that of the six names she'd been so sure she'd never forget, she could actually only remember five. The sixth name was there, she should have been able to say it, truly should have been able to form the Rune for it within her mind and give it shape. Yet she just couldn't.

"It's why the Paresaad are already involved, and why I have to leave you to whatever trouble you're getting into. I've another witness to interview."

He paused, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll never tell you not to protect your House and your Neighborhood, but try and avoid getting tangled up with the Campus' internal issues, for both our sakes?"

When she said her piece, he departed, striding briskly towards whatever task he'd set herself.

A handful of students were milling about in the library when Felicia opened the door, clearly frustrated by the disruption to their late morning routine that the closed door had presented. There was a young looking Vislae with three matching sets of eyes upon their face whose hand had been raised to knock as the door swung wide. All six orbs were narrowed in annoyance, flicking up at the Maker's hall pass. An outsider taking up their valuable time, an unwelcome annoyance. Whatever condescending statement their curling lips were about to utter died on their tongue when their gaze met hers. Whatever they saw in her, they quickly and quietly shuffled to the side, letting her pass as Shuistliel called out his warning. The other students did their best to not get involved, suddenly very invested in whatever titles happened to be on the shelves in front of them, clearing a path between the gathered neighbors and the exit back out into the courtyard.

Udula picked up her picnic basket with the end of her staff, expertly lifting it over her head and resting it upon her shoulder like a bindle. She gave the Magister a nod of respect, the Magister in question matching it with an even deeper one, and then she gestured for Aldrion to follow his companions back outside. If she caught any of the interaction between Felicia and Shuistliel, she said nothing, instead moving past them and back out towards the Hall's front door. She was all business when she needed to be, it appeared. Luckily, she was good at her job, and had a number of tricks up her sleeve to assist them in making their visit to the Vancian Campus as efficient and easy as possible. Most relevant among those was the dowsing rod that she pulled out of her basket once they were all outside, a simple stick that nevertheless allowed them to find Xanah within twenty minutes rather than the hours it might have taken them, given the sheer size of the Campus. How she'd attuned the device to Xanah, she never mentioned, but they found her returning from her own by walking beneath the Central Library. It was a beautiful space, as was so much of the campus, marble columns supporting the impossible weight of the main structure. Magelights glowed in lamps about the main square, providing illumination to what would otherwise be the vast and dark expanse. Students milled about, though the space was largely empty, but they passed a few groups as they rejoined.

Once they'd had a moment to reconvene, she led them back to where Magister Kuros had agreed to see them. As she did, she explained that they would be losing their guest status upon exiting the Campus grounds.

"Once you're 87.18 meters or more aloft, you're no longer under my auspices. Your hall passes will expire then, so you'll need to return to the front gate rather than descend onto Campus. I will notify the security of the route you're going to take so that there aren't any complications around your departure."

They had a little time before the Magister arrived, but eventually the time drew near, and Kuros could be spotted leaving the Hall of Attainment and waking in their direction. Outside, he was an even more impressive site than he'd been within his classroom, the two swarms of azure butterflies that formed his wings having room to stretch out. He took his first step through the door, and then the wings were unfurling, taking a single graceful sweep that carried him effortlessly over the path and deposited him next to them. They'd seen countless being fly, but the grace which the Magister could muster was hard to discount. He took only a moment to adjust his satin vest, and then from his jacket pocket withdrew a slender silver Sortir.

"Very well."

Was all he said, tilting his head back and touching the Sortir to his throat, just below the grey line of his perfectly trimmed beard. With a sharp intake of air, he gasped, and then opened his mouth wide and plunged his neck and head forward. Hundreds of Azure butterflies flew out of his open mouth, thousands, whirling about him in a tremendous explosion of magic. Identical to the countless insects that formed his own wings, they surged forward, mingling and condensing in a way that his own never did. On and on they poured, the kaleidoscope growing denser and denser. The sound of their wings starting as a whisper, and then a dull roar as more and more joined. As quickly as the deluge had begun, suddenly it ended, leaving the Magister standing breathless before his creation.

Towering over them on the lawn, flexing its wings as if for the first time, stood an enormous azure butterfly. Its body was easily the size of a stage coach, its wingspan that of a small house. The fur that covered its form was thick enough to grab onto, providing them with grips to climb upon its back, and it's multifaceted eyes regarded them with alien curiosity and intelligence. The wings were iridescent, gleaming brilliantly like two enormous jewels in the late morning light.

"My creation will discorporate at sunset."

Magister Kuros said, already sounding bored.

"Until then, it is at your disposal."

If they bothered to look in his direction, he was already drifting away, his movements impossibly graceful the moment his feet left the ground.

Threads

Go talk to the Unkindness
- Talk with Magister Kuros about flight
  - Accept the Magister's bargain
- Learn more about names from Magister Lui

Edited March 20 by TheRaconteur (see edit history)

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Chapter I - Act II: Games of Chance

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