Serious Plots 6: Srs bsns

[Gullara]

[Rivi Des]

Annie looks at Aurora, and then at Obriane when she's gestured to. "Obi..." She reaches for Obriane.

Kitty sighs a bit. Annie just doesn't interact well with other people. "Maybe you can hold her when we make introductions, Obriane." She catches sight of Obriane's dad and watches him for a moment. He's avoiding them, isn't he? That's not going to go over well with Obriane.

[Shadowcaller]

[Rivi Des]

Obriane have seemed uncomfortable around her father, the two have barely spoken at all since the attack. There is a certain tensions going on here which Kitty no doubt have felt. Aurora hands back Annie to her daughter once Obriane have taken off her outdoor clothes. "Hey Annie... you shouldn't be afraid of my mom. She's very nice." She tells the little girl.

Philip is there too, looking curiously at Annie, but stays as silent as he usually is.
"So, introductions?" Aurora asks, smiling at Kitty. "Do you want to introduce us to your daughter, or should we introduce ourselves?"

[Gullara]

[Rivi Des]

"Go ahead and introduce yourselves." Kitty says. It'd be better to have other people talk to Annie instead of Kitty just introducing them all.

Annie, meanwhile, clings closely to Obriane. She has her cheek pressed against Obriane's and has her arms wrapped around her neck. Looks like she needs more time to warm up to these new people, despite Obriane's reassurances.

[FireFox]

Spoiler: Last round

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[Front Entrance]

Linda nods, then chuckles.

I'd like to call down an airstrike. As that's probably out of the question...

Walking into a firefight without intel and armed with a light sidearm is an easy way to need resurrection: let's get that landing zone set up - reinforcements would be good about now.

She hauls herself back to her feet and looks around

How big are we talking?

[Upstairs]

Perhaps intimidating them was not what he ought to have been doing.
Arlem reaches an open hand to smoothly but firmly push the rifle's muzzle down.
How nice. They didn't listen to the first warning, but now that it's been demonstrated, they're quiet and no one else needs to get stabbed.

But then the one starts moving, and the high-powered bullets start striking him (and bouncing off of him just the same). Maybe they haven't quite learned. Arlem lashes out with the knife at the other, rifle-less cultist in this room. He'd best draw those hands away from his friend quick, or he's liable to lose the use of them.

Just what do you think you're doing? That's my food. Get your own; there's plenty up here.

[Ballroom]





Quinn sighs, looking at the flailing cat and the muted wizard, and for a moment considers her options before...

She gets.

AN IDEA!

"Reinholdt! Use your tail to cauterize his wound and then immediately gag him with something!"

[Ballroom]

Reinholdt glares at Quinn. He spends a whole round going to put his tail out and now she wants him not to and to use his misfortune for her own gain?
Has she always been this attractive?

The cat scurries over to the wizard and goes to drape his tail over the man's throat. Really, the pain and fire is only getting worse and he really does need to put that thing out. But while we're over here in the wizard's personal space and doing crazy stupid things with tails that aren't what they're meant to be used for, Rein attempts to jab the wizard's lower neck with a needle and inject him with a heavy tranquilizer.

It maaay be best not to ask why Rein has tranquilizers just lying around in his hammerspace waiting to be used.

[Upstairs]
Assuming Arlem was talking to Carrie (with his miiiiiind), the reply he gets is overlaid with an unnatural hoarseness and sibilance. Eat what you want. I just want to hurt them.

Ricocheting bullets clip and graze her, which makes her even more furious. As Arlem isn't dealing with the shotgun-holder, she turns her displeasure on that unfortunate fellow. Ducking behind the wall may not help him much, as her huge hammer-instrument crashes into that side of the doorway and sends drywall and splinters flying. He might even get winged, or hit full-on, if luck is decidedly not with him today. Her attack is punctuated by a shout of the sort that turns knees into something approximating jelly.
"KNEEL!"

[Outside]

Golem goes back to the SUV and comes out with four big IR lamps, sort of battery powered spotlights that can only be seen by people with nightvision equipment (or not-people with extraordinary senses), and a small IR strobe which she clips onto Linda. Find a flat space, clear of obstructions and debris, in a circle no less than 30 metres in diameter. 45-50 metres would be better at night. Then set up these lamps in the corners, facing in. If you get attacked before the air support gets here, run to where we can see you. Maybe yell a bit, if we aren't watching. If you get attacked after they get here, make sure they can see that little strobe I clipped to you and stay clear of the enemy. Try to designate the targets by shooting at them, I suppose.

[Upstairs]

Pantomime is a great way to get your point across in the middle of communication problems. With just one movement of his arm Arlem makes his point first clear, then bloody. The unarmed cultist falls back before he gets unhanded too. Pain transcends language. The one with the rifle allows it to be pushed out of line with the shapeshifter, his finger outside the trigger guard. As he watches Arlem tank a machine gun without discernible harm he murmurs a terrified prayer under his breath. Don't worry, there's no feeling of divine magic being channeled through his words. Either he lacks the ability to be a conduit for his Goddess' power or she'd rather save it for more effective servants.

And then Carrie enters the fray, smashing the wall on the other side of the hallway and breaking the doorframe, studs beneath the drywall, and the guy with the shotgun's arm. He falls down and tries to catch his breath while figuring out what just hit him and if can shoot it. The cultist with the machine gun--now empty and glowing with heat--was already lying prone when the Exalted's command hits him. He gets even closer to the floor, but slowly starts moving one of hands to his belt. What is he hiding underneath himself? Oh, and there's close to a hundred empty brass casings scattered in the room and that party of the hallway, by now. They'll roll right out from beneath an unwary foot, presenting a bit of a mobility hazard.

[Ballroom]

If Rein's tail is still burning hot enough to cauterize a sword cut, the wizard's situation will stabilize. Indeed, by the time the tranq takes effect and he passes out before casting another spell, he may be the most stable thing in the room. Nay, the entire building! Now that they're no longer in a direct fight for their lives, the duo may notice the fully automatic gunfire from the second floor coming to a stop. They can probably hear Carrie bashing around, though, so there's still some indicator as where the others are fighting.

[Recaiden]

[Upstairs]

Violence really is the universal language. Move over, maths.

Now there's just one thing left to do here. Arlem transforms into some awful octopus/mantis/snake thing, unhinges his jaws, and goes to rip the first cultist apart and gulp down the tastier pieces. This will probably startle the other, get his finger back on the trigger, and send more bullets ricocheting uselessly around. But when the shots clear and the shapeshifter goes back to normal, the survivors will have learned a lesson.
Hopefully.
Thanks Carrie. You're the best.
Even if the man found some clever way to recover and survive, there's really no more time to waste on them, not with a mad musician smashing in the walls. If he can, Arlem will turn and head for the end of the hallway, walking into whatever trap the captor has set.

[The Bushranger]

[Ballroom]

If Rein's tail is still burning hot enough to cauterize a sword cut, the wizard's situation will stabilize. Indeed, by the time the tranq takes effect and he passes out before casting another spell, he may be the most stable thing in the room. Nay, the entire building! Now that they're no longer in a direct fight for their lives, the duo may notice the fully automatic gunfire from the second floor coming to a stop. They can probably hear Carrie bashing around, though, so there's still some indicator as where the others are fighting.

This tail of his is burning red?

"...alright, then." Quinn looks down at herself, and sighs. Why is it always clothing damage? She then looks up as she hears the bashing racket above. "On to the next floor, I take it?"

[Reinholdt]

[Ballroom]

"Here, let me put that out for you, Rein." Reinholdt says in a strained voice, discarding the tranq needle and pulling out a flask of water which he proceeds to dump on his tail. What's left of it anyways. It'll put the fire out and slightly soothe the injured parts, but now he's wet and a part of him honestly considers that to be worse. "Is it bad Rein? Oh no, it's just fine. Are you sure you're ok Rein? Oh I'm quite positive. I willingly let my tail burn allll the time to medically seal other people's injuries. Thanks for asking."

I'd say the snark's out of his system now, but I doubt that will ever be possible. "Well I think I semi-scouted most of the ground floor and didn't see any way down, unless it's inside that barricade room." Though he really is surprised people are on the second floor already. They haven't even properly turned over the first floor for treasure. "Yeah, next floor." He moves to continue through towards the front of the house so he can get upstairs and rejoin the others.

[Beans]

[Upstairs]
Carrie's foot moves fractionally, bumping a brass casing. Her eyes flick down; she sweeps a foot across the floor, scattering the rolling things and taking a careful step forward.
The man on the floor is moving, hand reaching for something. She doesn't remember giving him permission for this, and raises the issue by planting a boot in his back and leaning on it.
"Did you ask if you could do that? Let's hear a 'No, Miss Carrie' for honesty, mm?"

[Recaiden]

It's a tower, isn't it?

The wind is picking up, going from a whisper to a gust to a breeze to a veritable gale bending trees over and driving flocks of migrating geese backwards through the air.
The odd weather abates after just a minute or two as Cleo the dragon teleports somewhere nearby and approaches the building, leaving a field of wildflowers in her wake.

If there's a door, well, she won't actually knock on it, but a "someone knocking at the door" sound will play loudly enough.

[Deathkeeper]

Highclaws Tower

Spako answers the door, obviously having only recently woken up as he's wearing only his red pants with a belt carrying his Deck and a little tube. He rubs his eyes and looks out at Cleo. What an odd looking cousin.
"Good morning, neighbor. What can I do for you?" he asks graciously, though also reflecting his bleariness.

[Recaiden]

"Good morning!"
Cleo nods and flutters her eyes in greeting.
"Spako Highclaws, right? May I come in? I think I may need your help."

[Deathkeeper]

Highclaws Tower

So many eyes! The kobold stands aside for Cleo.
"Uh, sure Miss. What do you need?" he asks as he holds the door open for her.

[Recaiden]

Only six! It's not like she's one of Leah's strange creatures.

"Thank you."
Cleo slips inside and then waits for Spako to close the door and lead the way.
"I need compatriots. I'm recruiting for a, hmm, gathering of more-or-less like-minded individuals."
"Really, it's the world that needs you. I hear that you're quite a good person."

[Fenric]

[Outside]

Linda nods and takes the lamps

Gotchya!

The IR lamps are of no use to her at all, looking just as dark as everything else... but that's not the point: the "business end" is obvious enough and so off she goes! She sniffs carefully and her ears turn from side to side at every small sound. Their vision is notably poor, but the Vulpans have outstanding senses of hearing and smell. Maybe a nearby intersection? Those usually make for quite a lovely wide, flat place - and a hard surface, to boot.

[Deathkeeper]

Highclaws Tower

The first floor of the tower is a sitting room decorated with cushions, a couch, and brass lamps. It's made for a kobold and his at-the-time tiny roommate, so Cleo might not find anywhere suitable for her, though there is a nice rug on the floor.
"I mean, I do stuff for Vigil. Saved a princess or two in my day. I don't know if that makes me a good person. What sort of mindset are you looking for?" Spako asks, giving Cleo a chance.

[Recaiden]

"No, I think that merely makes you a hero. And we know what happens to them."

Curled up on the rug it is!

"You'd be branching out into the wise mentor space. Now, instead of answering you just yet, have a question in turn: what do you think of GLoG? Not that that's where I'm from, of course."

[Deathkeeper]

Highclaws

"Lots of things happen to them. I'm not sure if anyone would believe a kid like me's a wise mentor but that's your call. As for GLoG, well, I don't really hear about them doing much. They do their own thing and I can't really fault them for it, I guess." he tells her with a wave of his wings.

[Recaiden]

"I mention them because our views of 'Good' line up a lot. Redemption, second chances, helping the innocent, etc. Although there is a bit of going out and smiting the forces of darkness when other people can't handle it."
Cleo sort of explains, tail flicking back and forth.

[Deathkeeper]

Highclaws Tower

"Well, I guess I can get along with that. It's all very good and noble stuff. Sometimes it can seem idealistic, but they're ideals for a reason." he muses, scratching a shiny scale on his temple.

[Recaiden]

"'Noble', that's a good word for it. Right! Even if we never quite live up to our ideals, continuing in the pursuit of them is the best that can be done!"
Cleo tilts her head and focuses all eyes on the Deck.
"But you might be too much at peace. Are you who you want to be? What's the worst thing you've ever done?"

[Deathkeeper]

Highclaws Tower

"Well I never really got to try out the dragon thing since my teacher left.
The worst thing I've ever done would be letting this get into the wrong hands." Spako replies, patting the deck. "I'm not self-centered enough to put all the blame of what happened on me, but it was my responsibility, even if it was forced on me without my knowing. The other stuff wasn't me, possession doesn't count." he says, though it clearly doesn't bother him.

[Recaiden]

"Okay, first - dragon thing?"
Cleo shakes her head.
"Secondly - what hands were those? Just what happened?"
One of these questions is professionally important. The other is just her being nosy.

[Deathkeeper]

Highclaws Tower

"My last teacher promised me the ability to become a dragon but he left before I really mastered using magic to alter myself.
Anyway, the deck was ripped from my possession by some stupid necromancer elf because Sir didn't tell me he slipped it into my pocket. Then he kept using it until he got a Wish and used said Wish to reignite a war he'd lost decades ago. Of course the Deck didn't like him cheating and he died minutes later, and his elves were pushed back a few years later I hear." he says with a shake of his head.

[Recaiden]

"You ought to pursue it. I managed it, after all. Though I imagine you would be starting from square one if you followed my methods exactly, perhaps I can still help."
Cleo smirks.

"Just a few years? Well that's certainly trouble enough for anyone. I think you'd do, if you wanted."
"What exactly are those cards?"

[Deathkeeper]

Highclaws Tower

"Well, if you have some way of helping I won't turn down your offer. As for the Deck, it's a Deck of Many Things. You use it, it does something based on the card you draw. It's random, except when it isn't. That's the trouble with quasi-intelligent magical artifacts." Spako says, sounding like he's explained this many times before.

[Recaiden]

Cleo nods.
"Well, there's two offers on the table here."
"First, I'll help you become a dragon, because that's just obviously a good thing to do. And I have some expertise at turning people into other things, and in things turning into other things on their own."
"Secondly, there's the offer to join the Stormguard, use your magic for Good, protect the world, etc. If the mysterious powers of such things approve you, that is."

She unfocuses, only front eyes still lingering on the cards, while the middle pair watches Spako's face, and the top pair rest.
"And, quite aside from both, random quasi-intelligent magic items are an area of my interest, if not expertise."

[Deathkeeper]

Highclaws Tower

Spako ponders Cleo's words for a while. "Well, neither of those offers sounds bad to me. How do I know if I'm approved by the Powers?" he asks the dragon.

[Recaiden]

"You'll get the tool of your office."
Cleo sits up a bit and lifts a hand to materialize her staff - white wood encased in silver filligree, a darkly shining crystal tip (partly matching the jewel between her horns) surrounded by bells that ring-ring-ring for a moment in joyous cacophony and whispers something, a small phrase not only uncomprehended but incomprehensible.

Spako may (or may not) notice the presence, the attention, of something vast and alien scrutinizing his mind and soul. Is he good? Strong? Complacent? Wicked? Where can he be polished up? Most of all - is he trying?

[Deathkeeper]

Highclaws Tower

Spako shudders. Being observed from on high is a feeling he's nearly frustrated of being so used to. But before long a rod drops into his hands. Clean cut from white dragon-bone and capped on both ends with brass. The butt is a simply metal cap but the head is a cage of swirling geometric shapes for holes, surrounding a little glowing orb. He waves it around, causing the orb to fall out of one hole, orbit around the cage, and re-enter silently.
"I guess that's that." he marvels.

[Recaiden]

"Welcome to the Stormguard."
Cleo watches the little orb whirl around curiously.
"It is traditional to perform some fantastic feat of magic, and to adopt a Silly Wizard Name, but I'm not actually that big on traditions. Do what you want."

She makes a gesture with a twist and a raise of the hand that's something like a shrug.
"The old head of the order said the staves provided power proportional to the wielder's righteousness, but the Brown Wizard thought they had characteristics of their own. I haven't been able to puzzle it out yet, but it should make you quite a bit better at what you you can do, magically."