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[IC] Mage: The Awakening - Land of the Free
cj iwakura
The Rhythm RegentBears The Name FreedomRegistered User regular
The Rhythm RegentBears The Name FreedomRegistered User regular
It's funny how something as little as a refusal can send everything straight to shit.
Oh sure, the Council made a name for themselves alright. Their little gambit killed, what, a few dozen of those puppet-strung Seer bastards? Great. Good job.
Now, tell me what their plan is for the hundreds more of those rat-nosed finks that scheme put on the Pentacle's trail.
...
Yeah, that's what I thought.
It's gone bad, kid. Real bad. Not even the Ladder was able to keep it together once the Seers opened fire.
The Sleepers called it gang warfare in the papers.
Well, they wasn't too far off the mark. There's war, alright, but those hack writers best be glad they don't know the half of it.
Any wonder the Hierarch stepped down once the Paradox hit the fan? They weren't up for that.
None of us really are. So we survive the only way we know how, kid.
Same as it was from the start, maybe the natural way.
We keep our heads low, and hope they don't come a'sniffin. If they do, we don't have the firepower to even hold 'em back, much less match 'em. We pack up, move shop, and hope they lose the scent.
It's a nasty way of life, yeah.
But it's livin'.
-Robinson, Guardian Epopt, NYC Local 407.
Ever since The Great Refusal, the local Pentacle mages have gone into deep cover.
Without any proper leadership, at least not in the traditional sense, a few devout Guardians took it upon themselves to maintain order as best they could.
That meant putting a modern-day Underground Railroad into effect, so to speak. Clandestine gatherings, off-the-books Consilium hearings, thoroughly encrypted correspondences, all par for the course.
Still, it doesn't take a whole lot for a new Willworker in town to know where to go for the local dirt.
One of the few jazz clubs still open, The Speakeasy isn't known for being either high class or high profile.
Anyone with a smoking jacket worth more money than their car knows not to stop by here to get their faces in the papers.
Known less for fine dining and charming conversation, The Speakeasy's known more for under-the-table dealings, smoky rooms, all manner of recreations(both legal and otherwise), and the occasional body riddled with more holes than a front page headline's facts.
Sleeper or Mage, one and all are welcome.
How easy visitors find their way out, well... that all depends, don't it.
It may be late in the evening, but the festivities are just getting started.
The lounge singer performing on stage doesn't seem a day under her late 20s, she could even be in her 30s.
The lady sure puts her heart into it, no one can deny her that, but it still doesn't get her much attention.
She's not there to turn heads or even to keep the money rolling, though.
This early in the night, the ambient backdrop is enough. No one at the scattered round tables pays the woman or the lone pianist any mind, shy of the occasional, obsessive drunk. Some have cards to play, others have deals to make, all of them have some kind of business to tend to, often of the illegitimate kind. If it was meant to be on the books, it wouldn't have any place at this club.
Despite being low-profile compared to the bigger name clubs, Speakeasy still has some standards.
The big man at the door is there to both regulate the dress code, and security, not necessarily in that order.
Not to say that exceptions to both rules haven't made it by him. All depends on the price, or who's asking.
OOC:
Oh sure, the Council made a name for themselves alright. Their little gambit killed, what, a few dozen of those puppet-strung Seer bastards? Great. Good job.
Now, tell me what their plan is for the hundreds more of those rat-nosed finks that scheme put on the Pentacle's trail.
...
Yeah, that's what I thought.
It's gone bad, kid. Real bad. Not even the Ladder was able to keep it together once the Seers opened fire.
The Sleepers called it gang warfare in the papers.
Well, they wasn't too far off the mark. There's war, alright, but those hack writers best be glad they don't know the half of it.
Any wonder the Hierarch stepped down once the Paradox hit the fan? They weren't up for that.
None of us really are. So we survive the only way we know how, kid.
Same as it was from the start, maybe the natural way.
We keep our heads low, and hope they don't come a'sniffin. If they do, we don't have the firepower to even hold 'em back, much less match 'em. We pack up, move shop, and hope they lose the scent.
It's a nasty way of life, yeah.
But it's livin'.
-Robinson, Guardian Epopt, NYC Local 407.
Ever since The Great Refusal, the local Pentacle mages have gone into deep cover.
Without any proper leadership, at least not in the traditional sense, a few devout Guardians took it upon themselves to maintain order as best they could.
That meant putting a modern-day Underground Railroad into effect, so to speak. Clandestine gatherings, off-the-books Consilium hearings, thoroughly encrypted correspondences, all par for the course.
Still, it doesn't take a whole lot for a new Willworker in town to know where to go for the local dirt.
One of the few jazz clubs still open, The Speakeasy isn't known for being either high class or high profile.
Anyone with a smoking jacket worth more money than their car knows not to stop by here to get their faces in the papers.
Known less for fine dining and charming conversation, The Speakeasy's known more for under-the-table dealings, smoky rooms, all manner of recreations(both legal and otherwise), and the occasional body riddled with more holes than a front page headline's facts.
Sleeper or Mage, one and all are welcome.
How easy visitors find their way out, well... that all depends, don't it.
It may be late in the evening, but the festivities are just getting started.
The lounge singer performing on stage doesn't seem a day under her late 20s, she could even be in her 30s.
The lady sure puts her heart into it, no one can deny her that, but it still doesn't get her much attention.
She's not there to turn heads or even to keep the money rolling, though.
This early in the night, the ambient backdrop is enough. No one at the scattered round tables pays the woman or the lone pianist any mind, shy of the occasional, obsessive drunk. Some have cards to play, others have deals to make, all of them have some kind of business to tend to, often of the illegitimate kind. If it was meant to be on the books, it wouldn't have any place at this club.
Despite being low-profile compared to the bigger name clubs, Speakeasy still has some standards.
The big man at the door is there to both regulate the dress code, and security, not necessarily in that order.
Not to say that exceptions to both rules haven't made it by him. All depends on the price, or who's asking.
OOC:
Anyone with Mage Sight up, mention as such, and the results will be updated via spoiler, per character.
Any posts from here on out should be In Character. OOC content should go in the OOC thread.
http://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/158962/ooc-mage-the-awakening-land-of-the-free-noir-pbp/p1
Any posts from here on out should be In Character. OOC content should go in the OOC thread.
http://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/158962/ooc-mage-the-awakening-land-of-the-free-noir-pbp/p1
cj iwakura on
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This bar also has the benefit of helping to hide him from his old crowd, not really their kind of place. Not that might recognize him anymore. Getting off the streets and finding purpose can make a big change in a man, at the very least he dresses more like an upstanding citizen to fight with his image of what a Silver Ladder member should look like. Now he dressed in a suit and tie, even if the ties did tend to be a bit colorful and maybe tacky.
Charun chuckled to himself, thinking about the changes he'd gone through. He took another sip from his drink and watched the people in the bar once more.
Come meet him at the Speakeasy, of course there was more but the message was simple. Bellerose certainly didn't mind, it was a good place to get a drink without dinging the public reputation that the company was expecting them to cultivate. No one here knew a patron from another, and if they did there was the word to keep their lips sealed. She looked around to see if big old Warhorse was already settled in and having that first glass.
Apparently not, Warhorse was hard to miss even in the smoky room with his massive frame and he wasn't here yet. Bellerose took a seat at one of small little round tables and gestured for one of the girls to bring her an Alexander. She looked around taking in the Sights, there was definitely something in the air. A tang of Mana weaved in the tobacco smoke. Perhaps someone less than cautious in banking their enchantments or perhaps something more?
Bellerose was cautious, always keep your Eyes sharp and veil yourself in a Shield. Smith had drilled that into her and she had never forgotten that lesson. It had certainly came in handy with the occasional tight situation she had slid herself into and it may come in handy here.
Anyway,
Space Mage Sight: Always active (Legacy attainment)
Mind Mage Sight: Active for the scene because reading emotions should be fun in a poker game
Sense Consciousness (Mind 1 spell) + Space Armor: Combined cast as 1 spell, ritually cast for say, 30 day duration. Because a prepared mage is an alive mage
So I'm at my stamina 2 limit for spell tolerance, but with plenty of room for active spells remaining.
Phew! Book keeping done. Should I have put this in the OOC thread?
The door to the place opens wide as a man dressed in a nice suit but otherwise... entirely unremarkable enters the room. Jaunt removes his fedora with his left hand while giving the big guy at the door a fifty dollar handshake with the right. It's a shame he'll never remember the details, but what the hell when you're up, you gotta spread it around He cast his gaze over the occupied card tables. And I'm about to be very up
The Mage stops by the bar to order a scotch on the rocks while scanning the card games for familiar faces. Getting into a game with an Acanthus would be a waste of a night, it doesn't matter how much you cheat when they keep getting ridiculous hands by chance. Thanking the bartender with another extravagant tip he sipped his scotch and bent his perception of Space, taking in the back and forth of cards and chips at each table, looking for a mark.
Scrying (8d10.hitsopen(8, 10)=2)
Temporal Dodge (Ritual Extended Cast for One Month)
Seated at one of the card tables, Leslie tosses in his initial ante, quickly noting the straight forming in his stud hand. I wish my contact would get here, he remarks to himself, save me some money at least. Next card is dealt and it's the fourth member. Not betting on the straight would just put him out his ante.
An emotion moreso than a feeling lets him know he's on the right track. That's what makes it hurt when he folds his easy straight. Sometimes the lady pays you, sometimes you have to pay the lady. "Tch, typical," he remarks to the players at his table, feigning disgust at his feigned bad luck. "I'm up for a drink, I'll be back later if I get the itch." A full-house takes the pot.
Stepping to the bar, he takes the opportunity to look across the room. His Tong buddies needed someone to pick up a package over in the Speakeasy, but a Chinese man would stand out here like a--well, Six is sure the vets have a saying about that. He's been playing cards badly for the last two hours (actually two hours, 11 minutes, and eighteen seconds), trying to make a deposit into luck's coffers while he waits, but it's starting to catch up with his wallet. "Do me a gin fizz. Plymouth please."
He tosses his fedora on the counter in front of him as he steps in alongside the card sharp. Remaining unobserved was nice and all, but this isn't the kind of place you want to startle anyone. "Evening." He slips in a discrete Mysterium hand sign while pretending to adjust his tie with his free hand, and watches for a return gesture. "You look like you know what you're doing with those cards. And I'm looking to make some easy pocket money. In cahoots we could really work a table over. Interested?"
Finally he turns towards the man who addressed him. "But still, a pleasure to meet you."
"I've been abroad a fair bit, on account of the war, you new around here or am I just out of touch?" He drank some scotch and gazed around the room before adding, "Around here they call me Jaunt, by the way." Swapping the drink to his other hand he extends the offer of a handshake.
Maximilian ducks his head to enter the room. He had not had to pay a cover charge. The bouncer tried his best to be intimidating, but it is hard to block a man who towers at least two heads over you and is wearing a priests collar. Little known fact, priests don't pay cover charges. A few strides takes him over to the bar for a drink and then another few takes him to Bellerose's table. Quietly, he picks up the chair and moves it back against the wall before he sits down. Max always does this. Despite his priestly and calm demeanor he has quite a few battle instincts he cannot shake.
Before saying anything he settles into the chair, which creaks under his weight, and takes a long slow drink of his whiskey which looks tiny in his huge hands. Large blue eyes scan the room before falling on his table partner and softening around the edges, "You beat me here. That must be a first..."
Not the most attractive woman in the bar, she nevertheless drew a number of looks as she walked towards the bar. Her hair and clothes appeared to be those of someone who wouldn't be caught dead here, and yet for some reason it seemed like she belonged; something about the way she carried herself. Regardless, she made it to the bar unmolested and sat down as the bartender walked up. "Tonic and lime," she said. He peered at her a bit curiously, but as she was holding five dollars on the bar, didn't ask any questions.
Drink in hand, Lily leaned back against the bar and started to listen to the singer.
All the drinks requested were presented swiftly and with immaculate preparation, whether the cocktail for the waitress doing the rounds, or the Plymouth provided to Leslie. "Fine choice, sir."
[Jaunt]
Most of the card players appear legitimate, but a certain woman in a fancy dress seems to be playing the odds a little too well...
[Maximillian]
[Lily]
As the song wound down, the performer received scattered, barely audible applause. A polite smile and wave, and she leaves the stage, letting an instrumental band pick up the slack, approaching the gathering near the card tables, waiting for an open spot with a calm expression.
"Anyone care to deal me in, boys?"
The band was unremarkable and no one was dancing so Lily went back to watching the singer, still bemused by the amount of magic she was using.
He eyes the performer introducing her to a table of cardplayers and gestures towards the table. For the time being he stays at the bar, but keeps an eye on the game about to unfold.
When Warhorse mentioned about the others, Bellerose shrugged as she performed the mudra to bring up her Eyes. A quick rub of her nose to activate the rote and see things in a different light. 'Maybe two or three, people are being quiet tonight. Perhaps a little too quiet.'
Also Moira already has Untouchable up during her usual rituals in her Sanctum extended for the full day.
"And the flock is as it always is, small and too focused on their own problems. They only really need me to tell them what they already know." He shifts, making the chair creak. After scanning the room his eyes finally return to his table partner and focus. "That is why it is so good to talk to someone whose eyes are a little more open. Even if these are dangerous times."
__________
"At once, sir." The bartender gladly heeded the request, giving Charun another drink. "Do take it easy. They say the authorities are on the look out for those who are... shall we say, highly inebriated." An edge of warning into his voice on that note.
__________
"Dangerous times, indeed." A tilt of the hat from the man in a cheap suit that came to a stop beside the space occupied by the woman and her towering companion. "How've you two been contending them, I wonder. Don't mind if I sit for a spell, I trust?" Without waiting for a response, he took up a third chair opposite the two so he could simultaneously survey them both.
[Charun]/[Bellarose]
Jaunt only shakes his head as the other man gestures towards the table, "She probably has the same idea I do, and while it may be fun to see who can cheat more thoroughly, it's not the most profitable venture. Maybe I should just rob a bank, huh?"
'Indeed, I hope the streets haven't grown too hazardous as of late, Father.' Bellerose's finger traced an idle pattern on her napkin. 'One man can only do so much alone.' She had never made secret of her affiliation to Warhorse, in fact she had told him the first time she had seen him wandering the street as she had been sent to draw in him into the fold of the Talons. 'Tell me...' Bellerose looked at the stranger who grabbed himself a seat.
This close, Bellerose could smell the whispers around him. He didn't look familiar to her and this was supposed to be a private drinking session between her and Warhorse. 'Only if you buy the next round, a spell is far better savored with a drink.' She turned to look at Warhorse, 'Now why we don't we settle on drinks first before the chat, Father?'
Turning, he folds his arms across his chest, inches closer to Jaunt and his demeanor becomes much less social, much more serious. "So--you pentacle? Don't answer that, you'd just say yes either way. This place is crawling. What's going on; is something bad about to happen?"
With a wink he adds "Our kind has to stick together you know."
_________
"That we do, sir. That we do." A simple enough reply while he occupied himself with the cleaning of another glass to a polished sparkle. "Shame, it seems something so few are capable of keeping in mind of late. [So, whose interests do you serve?]" The charming tone faded, leaving one that was, abruptly, all business in its stead, his attention on the guest once more; his words falling into gibberish that common folk would have no earthly chance of comprehending.
_________
"Fair enough, ma'am. Drinks, as they say, are on me. Garçon?" The man gave a withdrawn chuckle as he waved over an imaginary waiter, not that one actually present would answer to a gesture that polite. "It can wait, I suppose. She'll be 'round again soon enough. Business before pleasure, yes? I, for one, live in this quaint burg. I don't believe the same could be said of you two."
He places the glass down on the bar and regards Six, "You know, it's never too late to join, either. Guys I work with would take you right in. Well, after a background check, of course."
Breathing deep, he turns back to Jaunt, "I believe in signs. And don't think because I'm about to talk about something else that I don't appreciate the offer, but I wasn't there for the secret handshake everyone had when you all walked in. For all I know, you and I are in a room of Seers or Banishers." He takes a long drag off of his drink and finishes it, returning it to the bar. "That said, there's no outrunning a cougar in its den," he adds suddenly beaming, "if we're in we're in. You say this is a safe hangout, I'll cautiously take your word for it."
"Really? I wasn't aware this place was known for anything special. I hadn't even heard of it before this week." Looking around, she ponders the mix of characters in the bar for a second. "Should I even ask what it is, besides the obvious?"
_________
"If it ain't obvious, dear, you may want to rethink asking." The singer responded without looking up from her hand as she set down two cards, watching the remaining three in thought. "Let's just say the mundane crimes are the least of our problems."
[ I serve the Ladder. ] "And I serve myself. Unless I have a fine gentleman like you to help me out on that front." Charun smiled hoping that his joke would help to make the tone a bit lighter.
Bellerose though knew the price of taking people at face value and she wasn't going to underestimate this one even if he was a preening peacock. She concentrated on her Sight and attempted to see if she could sniff out more about the man and see if he had any workings hanging on him.
_________
"Our eyes are everywhere dear, as I'm sure your militant folk can attest. We've been keeping this city together since the Voice high-tailed it, haven't we? Still, I'm not one to pry without good cause. Information offered freely can be so much more valuable, I find." The man straightened his posture then, offering a faux bow while removing his fedora and holding it to his collar. "...but yes, where are my manners? Call me Robin, the locals all do. We can talk more over drinks, of course."
"Well, we can begin our bartering and haggling of knowledge once we are on a little stable footing, friend. Before we start putting cards on the table and naming prices, perhaps you can tell us why a local like yourself blesses two foreign devils like ourselves with your presence?", Max smiles thinly as he talks trying to steer the conversation.
The man didn't bother masking his words in High Speech. Amidst all the carrying on around them, Robinson doubted anyone would notice, or would care if they did.
________
"Likely? Oh, you fragile little thing. It's a given. You came to the wrong club if all you wanted was a quiet night out. Shame, really." After tossing her hand to the table, the woman made a pointed display of lighting up a cigarette, taking a quick smoke while waiting for the next deal. "Fold." With that said, her attention went back to the other female. "I doubt you'll draw undue attention if you keep your head low, love. That's the real trick nowadays. Especially in this joint."
She smiled and rested a hand in front of Warhorse's bigger ones, not touching but a small cue to stay her companion from throttling Robin for just a bit longer. 'Why, we're here to enjoy the local refreshments, no more no less.' She smiled as she lifted up a hand to gesture to a waitress that their table was in need of some freshening up. 'A body works up a thirst after a long day of work.'
As words only the Awakened can utter or understand pierce the general murmur of the club, Jaunt's vague curiosity is engaged. At the words serving the Veil they have his full attention. Continuing his conversation at the bar he nods towards the Guardian as he says to Six, "Then again, some Pentacle Mages definitely should not be trusted. Ever. As if recent events haven't taught us all a lesson about tolerating the fuckin' Gestapo..."
Turning his gaze to his glass he focuses on the cracks and warps of the Fallen World, shifting his perception near the pair the Guardian was harassing. What's this idiot thinking, show up alone and make vague threats that he can't back up personally or by citing the Lex?
"The room seemed duller without your voice," Leslie gushes over the performer, arranging his cards in front of him in a practiced manner. A crumpled soft pack relenquishes a cigarette, leaving one more in the pack. "You wouldn't mind sharing that light, would you miss? I play better when I smoke."
[If we're to improve as a people we'll need to do it together with real leaders.]