"So, what think you all on the idea of traveling to the place mentioned in this music? The Nemean never denied that we should leave the house to complete this task, but simultaneously did not seem to think the task a particularly long one. In either case, some should remain with the spirit and ensure that he does not hide himself elsewhere inside the house."
She slaps the photograph of Howard's Rock down near the spirit.
"Check this out," Thorn instructs it. "This is a picture of Howard's Rock. What do you think?"
The spirit stares long and hard at the picture, and begins to shake and grit its teeth. Its skin turns bright red, and it lets out a hideous roar of raging hatred, its lower law stretching out nearly two feet, showing a fearsome maw filled with hundreds of razor-sharp teeth. A rush of wind swirls through the room, putting out the oil lamps lighting it and sending loose papers flying. The spirit's roar grows louder, and in a bright flash of light, he disappears.
"It seems the spirit reacted poorly to those pictures, but I think it not vanquished yet. While I would greatly prefer to consider the spirit vanquished and our task complete, it seems unlikely that the spirit would vanish permanently at the sight of a simple picture. It would reflect poorly should we report our mission complete to the Nemean before the spirit had not fully and permanently left."
Thorn gives Prometheus a quizzical look, then shrugs and looks around.
"I dunno...I mean, where would it have gone? I'm thinking this picture could be a ban of its, you know? Proof that it's wrong. One look at that, and it has to retreat. Like Dracula and the cross."
"I suppose that your statement could have merit, however it would look poorly on ourselves should we approach the Nemean without first vanquishing the spirit entirely. I do confess a lack of knowledge on the subject, so I concede to your will in this matter."
The Nemean walked in drying his hands on a towel. He untied his apron and tossed it over on the piano stool, letting the wind-blown sheet music flutter away beneath it.
"Well, you got rid of him," he said. "Not bad. You're probably going to see a bunch of those little buggers around town these days, so it's good you got some experience dealing with one."
As he spoke, the Nemean slowly circled about the room, looking each of the new mages directly in the eye, gauging their reactions. His manner suggested a graying old lion circling around wounded gazelles.
"Now that I know you're up to it, I want to strike a deal with you kids. The Consilium's been looking for ways to get into some of the old archives of the Stone Assembly, a Cabal that once controlled all the goings-on in Massachussets' Awakened community. Our records of the Stone Assembly go back to the founding of Boston, but every last one of those old fogeys disappeared back in 1923. From what we've gathered, these stuffy old guys had enough artifacts and grimoires to choke an Exarch, but we can't find hide nor hair of 'em.
"Previous efforts to dig up any of the Stone Assembly's libraries didn't pan out too well. We had this third-level Master out of the Mysterium looking into it, but she went off to Benefit and hasn't been heard from since. I figure siccing a more diverse team on the case will get us better results.
"Now, here's what's in it for you: we've set you up a decent Sanctum over in Cambridge to use as a base of operations. Quiet neighborhood, active Hallow--everything a new Cabal needs to get to work. Do a little work for the Consilium, and you've got yourself a quiet place to cast and a nice source of free-flowing mana.
"Whaddaya say? You kids got the stones for some real wizardry?"
As the Nemian spoke, Levanna folded her arms across her chest. Her expression changed to a disapproving frown as he talked of sending the fledgling cabal off to who knows where. At least the old man was being blunt about it though, rather than trying to talk it up with appeals to higher callings or misdirection as far as she could tell.
Her expression changed and her arms fell back to her sides as her eyebrows arched and her lips pursed in a gesture of "not a bad deal." She said as much aloud.
"Sounds fair to me," Levanna said, imagining herself cackle with glee the next time she balances her checkbook and there's not a rent expense. "Though of course I'd like to know as much as possible before ultimately commiting to it. Are there any theories or educated guesses as to what might have happened to them?" she asked to start.
"Sounds fair to me," Levanna said, imagining herself cackle with glee the next time she balances her checkbook and there's not a rent expense. "Though of course I'd like to know as much as possible before ultimately commiting to it. Are there any theories or educated guesses as to what might have happened to them?" she asked to start.
"Well, there weren't any bodies, for starters," The Nemean began. "Course, that's not saying much when it's sorcery involved. I bet each of you could hide a body a dozen ways so 'the heat' couldn't find it. I did some searching myself, over in the Shadow Realms--hell, that's where I'd stash a body--but I didn't find a damned thing. Miss Jane might know more than that, but like I said, she's off at Benefit livin' the commune life.
"So as far as a lead goes, I was thinkin' you all might have some luck tryin' to get a good, solid sympathetic connection. Over at Harvard, they've got a bunch of personal effects and papers from turn-of-the-century business leaders. I'd bet you dollars to donuts you could find some of Caranton's stuff in there--H. D. Caranton being the last Heirarch of the Stone Assembly, you understand. If you could bring me something of his, we could work off of that sympathetic bond, maybe get some kind of a temporal connection out of it."
"I believe myself to know someone who could grant us access to the facilities there should we choose to accept. For myself, I feel inclined to agree to your terms Nemean; to research the mysteries of the occult has long interested me, and to sate my hobby for a reward certainly seems agreeable."
ooc
Academics check to discover anything that a non-mage could possibly know about the old Heirarch.
Thorn glances around at the others, wondering if they saw in this what she saw.
The last person to try this...a 'third level master'...wound up ditching the job. Now they wanted a gang of fresh newbies to try. They were willing to offer a really sweet deal for it.
Call her cynical, but Thorn had this idea that they weren't really expected to find the artifacts, nor use the sanctum and Hallow for very long. It was more like...they were expected not to have the sense to quit that the experienced mage had. They'd keep digging, trigger some kind of response, and the Nemean and his gang would learn what to expect. Then they'd round up another bunch of kids, give them the same offer, and tell them how to avoid that first problem. Then they'd see how far those new kids got.
Like sending monkeys into a minefield.
Then, when the last set of monkeys got across safely, they'd come in, grab all the goods, say thank you... Well, they might let that last bunch keep the sanctum and hallow. What were those things compared to limitless wealth of magic power from an earlier age?
So, the way Thorn saw it, they really only had one way to 'win' this. They had to make sure that THEY were the monkeys that got to the end. Or they could cut their losses and bow out of the game.
Or...if they were really good...maybe they could secure a piece of that pie at the end for themselves. Hm?
Thorn nodded to herself, then repeated that gesture at the Nemean.
They followed Arathnos' kitted-out Honda Civic to a two-story house in a tree-lined neighborhood in Cambridge. It was painted with a slightly chipped coat of white paint, with a sloped, wooden-shingled roof, accessible from a second-story bedroom window. The front lawn was patched with a few clumps of snow from the recent cold-snap, and a pair of tall oak trees dangled over the stone walkway up to the front door. A tire swing dangled from a low-hanging branch, twisting in the stiff, biting November breeze.
As they stepped out of their cars into the darkness of the unlit street, Arathnos lit a Menthol cigarette and asked, "Well, what do you think?"
Last edited by Hella_Tellah; 19th January 2009 at 01:10 AM..
"I find myself more concerned with its mystical implications. Does this place also contain resident spirits with which we will cohabitate? Also, where, and of what strength is the hallow? And about security, does the house have any standing protections against mystical interference, or must provide them ourselves?"
"Spirits? I seriously doubt it," Arathnos said with a wry smirk. "Miss Jane got pretty paranoid about that kind of thing. You may have heard about the rote she designed--strengthens the Gauntlet everywhere she goes. We took down all the other wards she had up, but I bet you'd still have a hell of a time trying to summon anything around this place. The hallow's down in the basement. I can't speak to the resonance coming off of it, but I'd put a little time into altering its wavelength.
"Don't worry about making rent or anything like that. This place is owned under one of the Consilium's phony business licenses, so there'd be no one to give the money to. On paper it's rented out to somebody, I'm sure, but you won't have to worry about electricity, gas or water. No trash service, though. There's a dumpster in the back, but nobody's going to come collect it. We try not to have any regular visits from Sleepers to Consilium properties.
"That's all Sleeper law, though. As far as the Lex is concerned, this place is yours. Under the Right of Sanctuary, the Consilium backs anything you want to do in the event of theft or damage."
Thorn glanced over at the dumpster and frowned slightly.
I give it a week before they start wanting to dump it in the Shadow instead of taking it to the dump.
"Well, sounds cool. Thanks." She looked back at Arachnos.
"Hey, I'm curious. What's this Benefit thing Miss Jane's supposed to be at? Figured we might want to look her up before we stick our necks too far out."
"Hey, I'm curious. What's this Benefit thing Miss Jane's supposed to be at? Figured we might want to look her up before we stick our necks too far out."
"Heh, yeah, Benefit." Arathnos gestured to Levanna. "Hippie chick over there might get a kick out of it. It's a commune out near Waltham run by an Awakened couple; they've got a farm, schoolhouse, creepy bonfires with drum circles, and all that crap. I've got no idea why Miss Jane's holed up there. I don't think anybody does, to be honest.
"Anyway, here's the key to the place. Enjoy, I guess."
As Arathnos was walking back to his car, his phone started buzzing with a "Ridin' Dirty" ringtone. He turned away from the group and talked in hushed tones, then turned back to the group, covering the mouth piece.
"Jeremiah, Gabriel? You'd better come back to Cormant House." He looked genuinely frightened.
Last edited by Hella_Tellah; 23rd January 2009 at 05:46 PM..
"I don't suppose saying 'no' is an option," Jeremiah grumbled. "What the hell is this about?"
Arathnos handed his phone off to Jeremiah. As Jeremiah listened to Arathnos' ridiculous, diamond-studded iPhone, his expression gradually changed from annoyance to somber acceptance.
"I understand. Yes, I agree. The Concord does take precedence. Why us? *@#&$! Alright. I'll tell him." Jeremiah hung up the phone and handed it back to Arathnos.
"Gabriel, we'd better get going. I'll explain on the way."
Unwilling to directly query the leaving mages, Prometheus will put the conversation to memory for later investigation. After all, anything that managed to upset the wonderful tour guide would likely have enough importance to affect the rest of them at a later date.
Jeremiah and Gabriel were called back alone. Either they have some connection to the concord that the rest of us lack, or they simply have more mystical power. In either case, looking into it can wait for now.
After the others leave, Prometheus will turn to Thorn,
"Well, I guess that leaves it to us to explore this place. Shall we begin?"
Barely managing to mask the worry from his face, Prometheus almost cannot keep it from his speech. Only by shortening his words, does he manage.
Linear Mode
And yet another word from our sponsors
