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[IC] Mage: The Awakening - The Texan Inquisition
cj iwakura
The Rhythm RegentBears The Name FreedomRegistered User regular
The Rhythm RegentBears The Name FreedomRegistered User regular
This is the in-character thread for a Mage: The Awakening thread, OOC thread here. All posts from here on should be in character, OOC posts/clarifications should either be in a spoiler tag or in the OOC thread.
Dice rolls can be done either via here or off-site, with results posted in a spoiler tag.
___________
It's early in the evening, and per usual, it's not until dusk that business at The Watchtower picks up. Well, at least, it would normally. Even the sleeper clientele seems more sparse than usual. There's not a good vibe in the streets, and it's begun to permeate most local businesses.
Just about every outpost that has a nightlife scene has someone nearby with a picket sign.
"TURN AWAY FROM SIN"
"THE END IS NIGH"
"GOD IS FORGIVING"
"REPENT THY WICKEDNESS"
And those are the more pleasant ones. It seems like the local churches have set aside their differences in denomination to set up shop on each city block in some way or another. Parishioners from all walks of life seem to be on every corner, distributing pamphlets preaching forgiveness and repentance.
There's also the occasional flyer promising a reward for any information leading to those responsible for the bombing, and 'an unforgivable assault on the house of the Lord and His faithful'.
Worse, some of the more passionate protestors can't help but remark to anyone who dares try to enter 'havens of sin' such as bars or clubs.
Most pay them no mind, and continue on past, but it's clearly taking its toll on business.
Some have even tried to start trouble inside The Post, though it didn't take long before a certain customer known for his collection of sidearms put a stop to that. The owner's considered the notion of getting a bouncer, though he rightfully fears giving people the wrong impression about the location. The last thing he wants is to add bar fights to his growing list of worries.
Fortunately, the interior still maintains a pleasant, if quieter, vibe. An assortment of modern alternative and jazz music is the mood for the evening, and any arrivals receive a friendly greeting from either of the two attractive bartenders on staff. Most of the scattered customers in attendance are recognizable locals, apart from a few unfamiliar faces.
Despite the peaceful vibe, every so often you can hear a protestor chant biblical rhetoric from outside in between songs, though it gets drowned out the further away from the entrance you go.
Dice rolls can be done either via here or off-site, with results posted in a spoiler tag.
___________
It's early in the evening, and per usual, it's not until dusk that business at The Watchtower picks up. Well, at least, it would normally. Even the sleeper clientele seems more sparse than usual. There's not a good vibe in the streets, and it's begun to permeate most local businesses.
Just about every outpost that has a nightlife scene has someone nearby with a picket sign.
"TURN AWAY FROM SIN"
"THE END IS NIGH"
"GOD IS FORGIVING"
"REPENT THY WICKEDNESS"
And those are the more pleasant ones. It seems like the local churches have set aside their differences in denomination to set up shop on each city block in some way or another. Parishioners from all walks of life seem to be on every corner, distributing pamphlets preaching forgiveness and repentance.
There's also the occasional flyer promising a reward for any information leading to those responsible for the bombing, and 'an unforgivable assault on the house of the Lord and His faithful'.
Worse, some of the more passionate protestors can't help but remark to anyone who dares try to enter 'havens of sin' such as bars or clubs.
Most pay them no mind, and continue on past, but it's clearly taking its toll on business.
Some have even tried to start trouble inside The Post, though it didn't take long before a certain customer known for his collection of sidearms put a stop to that. The owner's considered the notion of getting a bouncer, though he rightfully fears giving people the wrong impression about the location. The last thing he wants is to add bar fights to his growing list of worries.
Fortunately, the interior still maintains a pleasant, if quieter, vibe. An assortment of modern alternative and jazz music is the mood for the evening, and any arrivals receive a friendly greeting from either of the two attractive bartenders on staff. Most of the scattered customers in attendance are recognizable locals, apart from a few unfamiliar faces.
Despite the peaceful vibe, every so often you can hear a protestor chant biblical rhetoric from outside in between songs, though it gets drowned out the further away from the entrance you go.
Anyone who has an active sight or is trying to get a read on unfamiliar faces can make the appropriate expenditures.
If you're not from the area, unless you're actively trying to mask your presence, you'll find the female bartender is keeping a close eye on you.
If you are from the area, she'll give you your usual; with a note on the napkin beneath it. "We have visitors."
If you're using a rote to conceal your Aura, be sure to mention it.
If you're not from the area, unless you're actively trying to mask your presence, you'll find the female bartender is keeping a close eye on you.
If you are from the area, she'll give you your usual; with a note on the napkin beneath it. "We have visitors."
If you're using a rote to conceal your Aura, be sure to mention it.
cj iwakura on
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It was made clear much earlier to the religious protesters that their right to free speech and assembly would be respected, provided they respected the property rights of the Tower. While it was unlikely anyone actually knew Durin was carrying a firearm -- only his KA-BAR, resting peacefully in his thigh sheath was visible -- it was generally assumed that bikers were heavily armed in Texas thanks to the presence of the One Percenters. The churchgoers had found the compromise amenable, and while Durin was certain some of them were practicing their Second Amendment rights as well, he was also certain they were unlikely to have proper training in the use of their firearms. Militia country was much further to the west of the Triangle Cities, and Houston PD would have issued a APB if a large group of known militia were in the city. I hope, he reminded himself. Busy night for them, and they're not infallible.
He nodded to Samedi when he spotted him, the Mastigos' aura a swirling mass of almost-kinetic possibility in the normally tranquil flow of time. Most mages showed some enhanced possibilities, but Samedi's aura swirled like an Acanthus adept's. Durin found that intriguing, but assumed the kid would play a major role in the Consilium's future and that's what the flow was reacting to. It made his need to teach him how to use a gun effectively even more imperative. Not much gets resolved without firearms these days, even if they had a habit of misfiring around mages. He'd spent a lot of time with Fravashi in Erbil learning how to reduce the probability of that particular problem. Soldier's prayer, indeed.
His eyes scanned the room with the precision technique of a Marine trained to stand guard duty at the United States' embassies. He'd already taken the temperature of the street, chatting with the small-time toughs, go-boys, cops, and the military folks who tended to frequent the Triangle Cities' seedier underside. His major concern, really, wasn't the religious nutjobs as much as it was a college kid getting a bit too much liquid courage and starting a scrap with the godheads.
"Havin' the usual, D'?" The blonde from the bar is all smiles as she saunters over with a glass in hand, offered to Durin over a napkin whether he accepts or refuses. "You best stay out of trouble tonight, hear?" Samantha's never one to keep the southern drawl out of her voice. She thinks it's good for business, and she's probably right, but she could be about as southern as a Mountie for all anyone knows. The Councilor's flashes a grin before she heads back to the bar. As rare as it is for her to show direct interest in anything regarding Supernal affairs, her taking a vested interest in things is seldom a good sign.
"I'll take a heineken," he said.
He then continues with his scan of people in the bar. He then situates himself to be able to see the door and most of the people in the bar. When he gets his drink he slowly sips it as he begins to listen to the music.
He glances over at the cordoned stairs that sit under the white pine sign that reads "The Peel -- by invitation only." He'd have to trust on the Arrows upstairs to handle bouncing anyone that didn't belong up there tonight.
He sips his coke and settles in. It feels like the tension has to come to a head tonight, and until he can see all of the pieces on the board, there's little point in speculating about the upcoming moves.
"You done talkin' that poor man's ear off, Sammy?" As if on cue, the other tender on duty approaches with a hand to Samedi's shoulder as the other slides a drink in front of him. "Save the preachin' for Sunday, you'll have you one big audience, I bet. Save me some of those donations, while you're at it." Her hand passes away with a practiced gesture before leaving the drink, and its parcel, in his care, before turning her attention to the new face.
"A Heineken for the new face? Don't get that too often, imports are goin' out of style. Where you from, if you don't mind me asking?" Samantha's voice is all smiles, but her gaze says something else entirely. It says you better have a good story if you don't want to leave here on a stretcher.
"Today I got back, from my professor, a thirty page paper that was well done. I'm celebrating" Michael said.
He pointed to the door, "those people outside, I guess this doesn't happen every day. They were very annoying. Like that other guy over there said," he points to samedi, "those people get in your business. They are a pain."
Michael formed the imageo in his mind of the rote winds of chance. The imageo, the mental picture of the spell he cast, of his desire, was one of great joy being shared with everyone he is in contact with. The rote was a spell he knew, one that he practiced often with. He slowed his speech, focusing on the spell and not the bartender while he pulled down supernal power from Arcadia, and put it into the imageo. He will use his magic to make fun for people within earshot, to share names of mages that they know.
He wants to have a mutual friend with the bartender, and to share good stories and joy with her and others in the bar. People will hearthe names of others and recognize those names and come join the conversation.
winds of chance (Wits 3 + Subterfuge 2 + Fate 3 = 8)
Geth roll 8d10o10h8
"What in God's holy name is the meaning of this?! "
The noise in the immediate vicinity died down a little bit, as several people started declaiming the sins of the bar patrons.
"How would Jesus feel if he witnessed this behaviour? Would He use such language and violence to show others the way of God? NO!"
He paused a bit, making sure he had the attention of the masses before continuing.
A heavy set man, who had until previously been waving a 'REPENT! CAST ASIDE VICE!' sign, gives the cross-bearer a 'who the hell are you' look along with his full attention. "Jesus would respect our God-given right to converge on this nest of sin!" He seems to have been expecting some of the nearby voices to back his proclamation, but he just winds up looking foolish as the few others nearby have gone uncomfortably silent. For better or worst, the man in the jeans gets their attention as well.
He looks outside to see the ruckus coming to a head. He sees the man with the wooden cross confronting one of the members of the congregation. He noted that her eyes went to the two men. He turned to them and said.
"It looks like the party outside is coming to a head. I am curious, will that party die down and stop or will it get worse?"
"Now now, aint no need for all a this hooting hollering at folks."
"You might not see this now, but you I are in the same business Sir. Sin that it. While you focus more waste management, I'm a bit of a scholar. What drive a man to sinnin'? How you turn him around?" Samedi goes in for a hand shake with the biggest smile imaginable.
"Now if you'd give me a little of you time, Since we are in the same business my good man, I'd like to give you some pointers. You get more souls with and open palm then a closed fist. A good shepherd dont burst in all fire and brimstone, fresh out the gate. You gotta establish a connection man, make them see you as someone got their best interests at heart. Now, tell me about yourself, what sin you overcome? What your Journey?"
Goal: Get the man talking.
Manipulation + Subterfuge?
What example are we setting here, as Christians?" he looked around at the now drooping signs full of judgement and scorn. He raised his voice a bit more:
"We are telling everyone that if you don't live up to OUR values that we will yell a lot and shove you around? Treat you like a criminal? I assure you Jesus would sooner have opened the door for anyone passing through here. He would have let them know that his Father loved them no matter what, and showed them that the way to happiness was found in God and not in drinking away our sorrows."
He paused and addressed the crowd: "I am Rudie, and I was a deacon at the church before...well it exploded. I know for a fact that there are suffering people in my parish that desperately need the energy you are showing here. Not to sit in judgement of them, but to feed them and help clothe them. To provide a human voice that shows them despite the tragedy that happened at the very centre of their faith that everything will be all right, and that God has not forgotten them." He paused, clearly emotional and more than a little tired. "I've been doing just that every day since the tragedy, but I am only one man... Who here will spend their time and energy helping those in need, as Jesus would have done, rather than laying judgement on those who need our compassion and leadership? I tell you truly, your time can truly make a difference for hundreds of people."
Geth roll 9d10o10h8 for setting people on the right path
Then comes the faint sound of subdued applause.
"Can't say I've seen that ever work, Preacher Man. Come in and have a drink, on the house." Samantha gives Rudie a smile, but then Samedi a sidelong glance, as if to say 'oh goddammit not another one'.
Geth roll 7d10o10h8
The well-dressed man takes the opportunity to approach the bar, giving 'Smoke' an appreciative nod. "How could I not take up such a kind offer? Bourbon on the rocks, if you please. You do have such a generous clientele, my dear." At that remark to Samantha, the blonde seems all too eager to withdraw from the bar and go back to making her rounds at the tables.
"So rare to see a man of the cloth pay us a visit. Tell me more about your parish, if you please. Oh, call me Jacob." Jacob seems very eager about the subject, indeed.
Rudie falls into the seat at the bar with a happy sigh and wiggles his toes. "About the Parish...well, it's seen better days. There's a real shortage in help for the people in need with Father Duggan gone, God rest his soul."
The whirls coming from outside had stilled, and as Sam and Sam walked back in, Durin easily spotted the source of the turmoil. The priest -- and Durin could tell that's what he was at a glance; like soldiers, priests just had a certain way of being -- settled into a seat at the bar. He levered himself up from where he was resting and slid through the crowd to take the seat next to him. He nodded to Sam when she gestured at his glass and to Sam when he approached.
He offered a hand to the Mastigos, delivering his typical greeting. "Howdy, brother." Unlike most people, there's nothing forced about Durin's use of the word. The meaning behind the word is genuine, offered to a trusted comrade. There's enough cowboy in his twang to own the howdy too.
Sam swung back around, dropping off Durin's refreshed coke. He turned his attention to the priest.
"Was awful sorry to hear about your church, padre. I don't believe that kind of extremism helps anyone. Think we've plenty of evidence of that in the Middle East, if we're interested in perspective," he says, keeping an eye on the man's aura as well as his body english.
Darren soon sets Rudie's requested water before him, though without the touch that Samantha's delivery had included. "I respect you for staying sober, father, but if you were gonna get wasted, now's the time."
He let the man indulge a bit before continuing. "Appreciate your willingness to come sit down. I was concerned we'd see an end to the first amendment demonstration and a beginning to a second amendment demonstration. Hard to abide those who can't abide sometimes."
"Go to Houston they said. It'll be nice and peaceful for you they said. We've got a nice arrangement going on they said. Whatever"
Can't predict when somebody is going to get out of line kid
"But blowing up a church? Really? That's the best he could think of?"
And what would you have done?
"Not blown it up. That's idiotic. Anyone could see how obvious it was. I'd have gone with a sinkhole. At least some sort of plausible deniability."
That's because you lack panache
"Yeah panache. That's it. Not a finely tuned sense of self-preservation"
Oh you want to talk about self-preservation now kid. To me!?
Jordan checked the clock and quickly got out of the car, hoping futilely the spirit would just stay in the car. Luckily while he had been chatting with his phantom companion, some sort of priest had mostly dispersed the crowd. Sighing in relief, he wondered if this was what the Free Council had predicted when they asked him to stick close to The Watchtower. With his vision augmented by Stygia, he could see the building for what it was. A fortress, standing against the Lie, hiding in plain sight.
Phillip pursued him, as always, trying to berate him for past actions. Muttering for him to shut up repeatedly under his breath, he likely looked just the slightest bit nuts, mumbling as he was and walking swiftly as if hunted. Entering the bar, he picked a spot that wouldn't be too crowded and where he could pull out his computer and see if the Free Council had any new messages for him. Houston was a fine city and all, but he had been getting stir crazy before this mess happened, and Jordan hoped he hadn't been forgotten in the chaos.
As soon as Jordan arrives, Samantha is quick to retreat from the table she'd been serving. "You missed all the fun, JP." Whether she called him that due to his constant-companion or for some other reason was up for debate. "I'll get your usual, I'm sure Sammy'll fill you in." She retreats to the bar, then provides Jordan with a glass and a coaster. Upon closer examination, it also has a message. The coaster has the design of a face mask laid across a scepter.
To Darren, he smiled gently. "Let me get hydrated and see where things go. But getting wasted isn't exactly the example I want to set."
To Durin he nodded. "Don't be too hard on those people. They listened to reason, which means they're not bad people. Someone wanted them here stirring up trouble, and used their faith to lead them into it." He sighed and a touch of sadness touched his face. "Politics is everywhere, and I wish everything was simple again. But then, I've recently become aware that things are even more complicated than I had originally believed, so I guess simple is never going to happen."
"You stopped what could have been a catastrophe, you did really well father. Pleased to meet you Rudie, I'm called Smoke"
He raises his glass to Rudie and Samedi and Jordan and Durin, "What are your names?"
"Hey JD, it's been a whole heap of a hot mess last couple of weeks caint lie. Some damn fool blew a church up a few weeks ago, and it feels like everyone lost they dang minds since them. Folks been running around like chickens wit they goddamn heads cut off. Even got old mr. Saturday 'ere feeling on edge if I'm telling true."
"Oh us, mister buy out the bar?" He addresses smoke. "The tall, dark, and deadly piece a work, is Durin. Fella just making our acquaintance Jordan, or JD if you big into the whole brevity thing."
"Cain't place the new blood," he says motioning to Rudie. "Never was a frequenter of those houses most holy. Bursting into flames is just terrible for my Sunday suits." He's joking. Mostly. "As for myself? I pick up names, like a dog to fleas. Snake-oil Sam, Mr Saturday, Night Viper...but to most folks I'm just Samedi."
"You're a devoted shepherd, padre." Darren gives a saluting gesture before leaving the gathering to their discussion and tending to another corner of the bar.
"Jordan," he greeted the Moros with a respectful nod. "Would you be so kind as to escort our guest up to the Peel and find him a table with room for..." he looks around for a moment "five in total."
He returned his attention to Jacob. "I'll follow shortly."
He stood up then, carrying his coke with him on his way over to the other side of the bar. He kept his focus on the river of Time flowing through the building, looking for those out of place ripples and eddies.
The image of Samedi pitches and sways back and forth, as if Smoke has had way more liquor. "Well hello friend, I can ssssee you are new, but not unexpeeeeerienced." His voice has a bit of a serpentine hiss to it, and smoke can almost feel a snakelike tongue flicking at his ear. Samedi steps forward and dismisses his nimbus leaving the sweet taste of rum on the tip your tongue. "Nice bit with the eddies, but on this level we like to play things a little closer to the chest, you savvy. Now, if would like a place where you'd be, a little more free to be all you can be, you you can always join us upstairs."
When Samedi came to him with the dizzying serpent like nimbus he was shocked for a moment, then he relaxed as he realized it was his nimbus. He put his hands in his pockets and touched the two mystic items of power he carried on his person at all times. The silver pair of dice and the silver small pocket stopwatch. These are the mystic tools he uses to work his magics.
"That's a nice nimbus you got there my friend," Smoke said, "I always find myself wanting to be all that I can be so I will thankfully follow you upstairs."
[Time Sight]
[Death Sight]
[Fate Sight]
[Prime Sight]
Whether it's due to an assortment of weaker mages or one very strong source, The Tower is a veritable fount of mana.
"Good of you to offer, sir." Jacob moves past Durin to the stairs as indicated, though stops briefly near him before proceeding. "I trust you know to select your guests with care. Dangerous times, these are."
Tuning back into the conversation, Jordan sighs and gestures to the new guy to follow him. " Oh yeah the name is Soliloquy" Remember table for 6 "Five" Six
And on they went, with the mysterious stranger in tow. Once they were seated in the Sanctum, Jordan turned his Grim Sight on the new guy.
It's clearly a Jehovah's Witnesses document, or for some similar denomination. It shows a group of hooded figures gathered around a fire, and proclaims in giant red letters: "WITCHCRAFT IS NOT NATURAL - REJECT THE ARMY OF SATAN!"
He puts his coke down on the table, turning through the pamphlet; this was one he hadn't seen before and he found it somewhat surprising the Jehovah's Witnesses had a pamphlet about witchcraft. Durin was lying, of course, he'd never been a man of God; his circumstances growing up were far more violent than most and the Corps had been his way out. He'd been proselytized to on the regular in the Corps, and even spent time in the chapel listening to services and speaking with chaplains, but nothing had ever stuck. He looked up every now and again to maintain eye contact and because Durin knew his eyes could be somewhat cold and intimidating.
He waits for her response and offers a polite nod. "Well, I ask because I am afraid the state of Texas is rather clear that we're not allowed to smoke inside bars. I don't mean to send you away, but I was hoping you'd at least take the smoking outside now that the crowd's calmed down and dispersed a bit."
He folds the pamphlet again and tucks it inside the breast pocket of his flannel shirt, momentarily revealing the holster hidden beneath his vest.
Geth, roll 5d10o10h8 for Intimidation + Manipulation
"Shut up" This one wasn't muttered, and was directed at both of them. "You know as well as I do it's an occupational hazard. And you also know running your mouth unnecessarily in situations like this is a poor decision. Everyone's tempers are flaring, and trying to tease, cajole or threaten may not be taken as well as usual"
He gestures to the table for Jacob to sit at and await the others. "My advice, if it was being asked for, would be to talk openly and plainly. Deliver your message and any pertinent information, and get back to whatever hideyhole you have until this blows over."
Turning to Samedi as he enters "I figure you guys have this place sealed up tight against special intrusions, but do you need to check for familiars or electronic surveillance?"
Sybil's Sight ability to hear words in conversations that is heavier in Fate. Page 149-150 Mage the Awakening
Geth roll 5d10o10h8 for Wits + Investigation