Nazareth Awakened - Chapter 02: Wives of Solomon

[Shayuri]

Chance sits and pouts and listens to Penrose and Harper. She'd really thought she could do it. Who'd have thought magic was so...hard? And yet, the idea that there were 'tools' seemed weird to her too.

She sat up a little and waved a hand. "Why do things like that work?" Chance wanted to know. "Is it just a sort of mental crutch, or a placebo? Or do those things have some kind of...special...something that makes them help with magic?"

 

[TillForPie]

Penrose weighs his answer in silence for a few seconds. "That's a more important question than you know. It's not a placebo."
[sblock=Reading Penrose]Law's Roll: Wits 2 - Empathy unskilled penalty 1 = Success with 1 success (it's up to you to decide if Law remained long enough to witness this conversation or if he's already left)
Agnasci's Roll: Wits 2 + Empathy 2 = Success with 2 successes
Harper's Roll: Wits 2 + Empathy 1 = Success with 2 successes
Chance's Roll: Wits 3 - Empathy unskilled penalty 1 = Success with 1 success

The junior mages can tell Penrose is holding back.[/sblock]It's clear to the students that it's not a question of Penrose finding an answer, but deciding how much to share.

"The Supernal Realm is more than a place. Well - some might say it's not even that." He shifts in his seat. "It's the code, the programming, that drives everything in the world. In your awakenings you wrote your names in the watchtowers - it was more than just a dream or a vision. You were changing the rules. Even if only in a small way."

Faye enters the study, having changed clothes at some point during the last six hours. She's wearing the same boots and bolo tie, which Agnasci can tell, as before, is magical. "I just heard back from him. He'll see them Wednesday night."

Penrose gives her an absent nod and she leaves. He looks back to his students. "The towers haven't always existed. They were built. Magical tools have metaphysical sympathy with them, and not by accident." He seems to consider continuing but must think the better of it and gives them a dismissive wave. "That's enough for now. Go get some sleep. Faye will contact you with an exact time and address."

 

[TillForPie]

Monday and Tuesday are almost painfully mundane for Penrose's students, particularly after such an eventful Sunday: In 24 hours the group encountered the site of a strange ritual out in the desert, a fear spirit, a mysterious mage, two hallows, and a ghost. There's a lot for the mages to think about.

Tuesday evening everyone gets a text from Faye: 9:30 PM Wed. 4600 Horseshoe Ave. Google searches reveal that to be an address in Gilbert, a city in the southeastern corner of the Phoenix metro area, a conglomeration of over 20 such cities clustered around Phoenix. The drive from Nazareth is about 40 minutes, so to make it in time the group would have to leave just before 9:00 PM. It's probably assumed by everyone that the group will meet up at Nazareth Secondhand Books and that either Law or Chance will be providing a lift.

Feel welcome to describe how your characters spend Monday and Tuesday.

Agnasci

Agnasci wakes to the smell of weed and when he opens his eyes his vision is dominated by a pair of women's feet.

He's on BR's ratty couch surrounded by the beer cans the two men emptied the previous night. One of the two escorts Big Rich called over for the two of them is in a nearby armchair with her feet up on the coffee table. The vaguely multiracial woman in the living room with Agnasci is apparently named Genesis and she lives twenty minutes away in Apache Junction. She isn't particularly attractive in the conventional sense, but more handsome and she has a certain statuesque quality. The room smells strongly of the weed she'd brought with her. She's smoking a joint and watching CBS's Good Morning America on the television - Robin Roberts is interviewing the author of a series of cookbooks.

Agnasci checks the time on his phone. 8:26 AM, Wednesday the 8th of January, 2014.

There's a fluuuushhhh followed by the sound of the opening of the bathroom door out in the hall. A moment later Big Rich is in the living room with Agnasci and Genesis, wearing only a black do-rag and a pair of boxers. His huge gut, thick limbs, and farmer's tan make him look like a tattooed cross between a gorilla and a lumberjack. "You're still here?" he demands of Genesis.

"Let me finish this interview," she responds without looking away from the television.

BR grunts and makes his way into the kitchen where stacks of dirty dishes and fast food containers are piled up everywhere. He returns to the living room with a beer in hand, cracking it open before taking a long sip and going to stand by the armchair. "Get out of my chair."

Agnasci sits up groggily when Genesis makes to drop onto the couch beside him.

Big Rich watches the show for about ten seconds before frowning. "What the hell is this?" He looks around. "Where's the remote?"

"I'm watching this."

"Show's over," he growls, his paper-thin patience already spent. "Get out of here." He finds the remote on the coffee table and flips through channels.

Genesis sits up with a sigh and puts on her shoes. "Call me," she says to either of them before leaving out the front door with her joint still in hand.

BR stops on a documentary about prison gangs and takes another sip of his beer. "I've got business to take care of. After that I'll be heading over." He's referring to the get together the Dogs of War are having. "Should start around noon. It's walking distance from here so you can meet me there." He takes another sip. "Head south down 15th," that's the road in western Nazareth that BR's apartment is on, "and head west on Longstreet. It'll be the house with all the bikes. Just head into the backyard."

 

[Mosier]

"Yeah, man," Agnasci mutters in response. At this particular moment, there he can think of nothing more loathsome than Big Rich's sweaty beer belly and next-day underwear. It's not that the man himself is particularly disgusting. It's just that he's so goddamn tiresome. Agnasci is exhausted with the effort of pretending not to hate him, and making Rich like him in return.

Agnasci will wait until Rich leaves. After he's gone, Agnasci will cast third eye, and look around Rich's home. The scumbag and his crew were involved in at least one ritual magic casting. Maybe there's some clue in this place about what they were trying to accomplish three nights ago...

 

[TillForPie]

Agnasci

About half an hour later BR is in jeans, jacket, and shades. "Take it easy, little buddy," he says as he heads toward the door, tucking his handgun into his belt. It's as patronizing as ever, like there's some funny joke that only he's in on. When Agnasci can no longer hear the roar of BR's bike in the distance he sets to work.

Nothing in BR's apartment is magical, nor does Agnasci detect any consciousnesses besides himself and the neighbors.
[sblock=Searching the apartment]Roll: Wits 2 + Investigation 2 (I'm not sure if Investigation is the proper skill for this but I'm fine with using it for now) - very messy 1 = Success with 2 successes
Agnasci finds BR's money stash[/sblock]Agnasci starts his search in the living room, though he doesn't expect to find anything there, and indeed he doesn't. There's likewise nothing in the kitchen or bathroom. The bedroom is left for last: Under some jeans in the bottom drawer of the dresser Agnasci finds a shotgun. It's a Remington with a few inches sawed off its barrel and stock - the latter's been wrapped up with duct tape. Beside the gun is a box of shells. In the nightstand drawer Agnasci finds a packet of photos from the days of film cameras and one-hour photo development - the pictures are of a considerably younger BR (still in biker gear) at the Hoover Dam with a heavyset little girl that Agnasci expects might be BR's daughter. He has a kid? Agnasci doesn't find much else of interest. There's some porno DVDs and a box of 45 ACP ammunition in the closet, an eyeglasses case with a baggie of coke and a razor blade under the bed, and various other odds and ends.

Agnasci's about to consider his search concluded when he notices a line of worn carpet under the bed. Someone's been moving this bed around. With some effort he manages to pull the large bed frame back to reveal a crude hole in the wall, and fitted into it a shoe box. Inside the box is a Smith & Wesson revolver, a half-full pill bottle of three-year old lithium carbonate tablets for Richard Sullivan, and a fat roll of bills bound with a rubber band. Agnasci thumbs through the cash - his rough estimate puts the total at about $12,000, give or take a few hundred.

Agnasci feels a nagging. With the way BR blows through drugs and hookers there's no way he'd miss a few hundred bucks...

 

[Mosier]

Agnasci wants the cash. He really, really wants the cash. But his sense of self-preservation eventually wins against his greed. Even the smallest chance that Big Rich would discover his theft is enough to give Agnasci pause.

The way Rich lives, he'll be in jail or dead before long, Agnasci reasons. When that time comes, I'll be back for this.

Agnasci is relieved not to find any recent pictures of BR with his daughter. That means she probably hasn't seen him in awhile. Probably for the best. Getting a glimpse into BR's personal life doesn't make Agnasci any more fond of the man.

Agnasci spends the time watching television until it's time to leave for the barbeque.

 

[TillForPie]

Agnasci

The walk to the corner of James Longstreet Road and 15th Street is a short one. This is a poor neighborhood, probably the poorest in Nazareth except for Tuxedo Springs. Before too long Agnasci is standing outside of a shabby little house with a chain-link fence and gravel yard, inside of which are lined up seven motorcycles. Creedence Clearwater Revival's Run Through the Jungle is blaring from the backyard. Yeah, this is definitely the place. The street here is packed with cars because of a party that's taking place in the front yard of the house directly across from Agnaci's destination - a quinceañera by the look of it. I hope the birthday girl likes Creedence.

Agnasci heads around the side of the house into the backyard and is greeted by the sight of Big Rich lounging in a plastic kiddie pool, again stripped down to his boxers (though he's still got on his do-rag and shades). He's got a beer bottle in hand and he's chatting up a man standing outside the pool, fully clothed, who Agnasci doesn't recognize: He's probably in his late 20s, with long blonde hair, nearly platinum in color - he looks like Thor in a biker getup.

There are two in the backyard Agnasci does recognize, both standing around a smoking grill. The first is Buddha-man, or Buddha, a bald and morbidly obese man in his late 20s or early 30s who bears a striking resemblance to his namesake. He's gregarious and polite, perhaps the Dog of War most suited to a life outside the gang. The second is Smiley, a man Agnasci's only met once or twice, and the one Weinberg's kid is in debt to. He's one of the oldest of the Dogs of War present, in his 40s or maybe even his 50s, with a hideous scar extending from his mouth to his left ear, an injury received from a motorcycle accident in his youth. Agnasci can tell from his brief meetings with the guy that Smiley is a hard man with little patience or social graces.

Seated around a patio table is a group of five people who are all strangers to Agnasci, two men and three women. The first man is the youngest person present, in his early 20s at the most, very heavily muscled with striking good looks. The second is older, around the same age as the guy cooking with Buddha-man, and very skinny. The three women vary in age, from the youngest who could pass for a high schooler to the oldest who could pass for Faye, with the same jeans, boots, and browned skin. None of the women are in leathers but to Agnasci they're the exact sort to hang around with the Dogs of War.

Finally, on the far side of the yard is the last of them, also a stranger to Agnasci. He's short, probably only in his 30s but already balding, and in a lounge chair under the shade of a patio table's umbrella, talking on a cell phone.

"Hey, little buddy!" BR shouts when he spots Agnasci. "Mad Dog's over there," he points toward the man talking on the phone.

Agnasci heads over, keeping a comfortable distance from Mad Dog so that he isn't intruding on his phone call. Mad Dog holds up a finger to indicate that Agnasci wait without looking up at the guest. There's a beer, sketchpad and pencil on the table by Mad Dog and Agnasci tilts his head a little to get a better look at what he's been drawing: It's still in its early stages, little more than outlines, but Agnasci can make out the shape of a bird, maybe a pigeon or something, and it's perched on what looks like the beginnings of a park bench. Wait. Agnasci narrows his eyes at the sketch. It's a crow. That's Harper's bird!

"Look, I gotta go," Mad Dog says into his phone, still not having looked up at Agnasci.

 

[Shayuri]

Chance goes home frustrated from Penrose's lesson. Not just because she couldn't get the spell to work, but because she was now quite certain of something she'd long suspected; the old man was holding out on them. She couldn't tell if it was in some misguided attempt to 'shield' them, or if it was naked self-interest, but she was never the sort who could stomach that sort of thing.

The next morning she checked her schedule to see how much time she had before she had to go in to the station, then got to work. Chance was done hanging her entire magical education on whatever censored dribbles Penrose decided to dish out. There weren't any other mages around that she knew how to get a hold of, but that didn't mean she couldn't practice what she knew, and experiment and find things out for herself.

An hour or so on the Internet to get some ideas, and Chance found herself clearing out a wide patch of her living room; pushing her little coffee table and loveseat aside, and sprinkling rock salt into a little circle there. She collected a few things she thought might work as 'tools' and kept them off to one side. She put on her faded old apron and tied her hair back so it wouldn't get in her face.

She was as ready as she thought she could be.

(OOC - Chance attempts to ritually cast Temporal Eddies with a 24 hour duration. This requires 4 successes.)
(Initial roll has 2 successes: http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4607628/)
(Then another 1, three hours later... http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4607633/)
(And finally, after 6 hours...2 more. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4607635/ )

By the time Chance felt the spell finally take hold and blossom around her, it was well into the afternoon. Her stomach was growling angrily over missing breakfast and being very late for lunch. The band holding her hair back had come off at some point, and it was all wild and ruffled and falling over her eyes. She was sweating and her eyes hurt from concentrating and trying to keep focused for so long. There were a few droplets of wax on her carpeting that'd be a bitch to get out, not to mention all the salt.

But it worked. She felt the spell overlaid within her, opening subtle senses that she lacked without it. And it wasn't fading. Usually that magic only lasted an hour or two. This one, shored up by the ritual would be good for the rest of the day, and all night, and a good chunk of tomorrow.

"Keep yer cup of magic whatever," she muttered to the absence of Penrose that shared her room with her. "I got bigger fish to fry."

 

[Mosier]

"Look, I gotta go," Mad Dog says into his phone, still not having looked up at Agnasci.

Agnasci is startled by the realization that Mad Dog may be (or know) more than he seems. Agnasci will not cast any spells, on the chance that Mad Dog may be able to detect them.

Orlando knows just how to behave around Alpha Males like Mad Dog. They're the easiest types to manipulate. They want nothing more than submission, but just the right amount of it. Too little, and you're a threat. Too much, and you're a wimp. The sweet spot is somewhere in between "confident" and "challenging." Look them in the eye, but glance away after a second. Head just a little lower than level. One hand in a pocket. Sit, unless they're standing too. Give them a chance to speak first, but don't wait long enough to make them feel awkward. Fidget just a bit, just to let him know you're not exactly comfortable.

He is painfully self conscious of his own performance. His whole life, the social "game" has seemed awkward, blatant, and ridiculous to him. But as he matured, Orlando began to realize that none of this stuff was conscious behavior for most people. Most people just can't help themselves, and their body language betrays their real thoughts and emotions. Orlando has to act, to play his part, because there was nothing else. There was no natural social interaction for him. He didn't even know what it felt like to not be aware of, and in conscious control of, everything his body did in a conversation.

Mad Dog wouldn't be drawing a picture in public if he didn't want people to see his work. Orlando makes a point to glance at the drawing once Mad Dog catches his eye. Orlando waits to see if Mad Dog speaks first. If not, Orlando will extend his hand (a tiny bit too eagerly) to Mad Dog, and say, "I'm Lan. Big Rich's little buddy." He'll take the earliest opportunity available to mention Mad Dog's drawing, hoping to get the Dogs of War leader to talk about it, and maybe give a hint about where he saw Harper's familiar before.

 

[GlassEye]

Harper, Thyrsus mage

[section]

Harper is still obsessing over his failure Monday morning. He spends the entire morning in his little room with the door closed practicing ritual casting with his second sight spell. By the time he finishes with that it is past noon and the emptiness of his belly gnaws at him. He will not ask anyone for food, though. He'd rather starve but he won't have to; there is a place Old Pete showed him where there was food that wasn't too off. In the afternoon he wanders. It's almost aimless but he has the feeling he is searching for something. Sometimes Crow flies along with him at other times Crow is off wherever Crow get to. And he thinks: ritual spells, white bear kachina, Crow (could Crow help him cast spells?), tass, and swords, which he thought seemed a bit... affected for a mage's tool. Maybe a knife, like the Barlow pocketknife he carried that used to be his father's...

Tuesday and Wednesday passed in much the same manner.
​

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