AW: Pantheons of Dust IC

[Deadly]

You've stepped between the Black Dog and are standing up to him? Hell, that's got to take some courage. He pauses a moment, mostly because you are the one doing the bapping, and lets his spittle mix with the water.

Courage, stubborn pride ... it's all good.

You could try and command the Black Dog the way that Jericho just did, but with more newspaper baps and yelling, but that'll take a Hard roll and it's not likely to last for long. On the other hand, it's direct and you get to brag that you saved the day, all you, 100%.

Or you could take that book that Jericho's holding in his hands and let your dad eat that. He'll be quite grateful and he'll take his time digesting it, so you might have calmer deaths around here for a little while. The downside to that is... well, come to think of it, I can't really think of any. It's a perfect plan.

Oh? Yes, that would be easy, wouldn't it?

"If anyone's gonna eat the Wolf, it's me," the girl said and whapped the dog again, her sharp teeth bared under her little yellow hood. "Me, dad, not you." *whap whap* "Do you hear? Jerry is mine!" This was one dog telling another to get the hell off its turf, I pissed on this so it's mine and you better know it!

Hard (Go Aggro, I presume): 5+5+0 = 10

[Anarion]

"All I'm saying is that it's a damn shame," Operator says. He's already got a box of scrap and tools out over his knee and is trying to come up with something to use in storming the Source- an improvised flashbang, looks like. Might scare the hell out of whatever's in there, after all. "If that is the Banker Man in there and all. I've always wanted to meet him. See what makes him tick." Sparks shoot out of a quick weld job, and the sun glints offa the lenses over his eyes. "Shame."

"If Paris is in there," Firestorm is saying, and she's loud and only barely showing proper trigger discipline, "Then we've got to go in and get him out. He's one of ours. And, you know, Jericho, too. Who knows what the hell the Banker's brought down on them, right, Emerald? And then we'll drag him out and kick him out of town, yeah!" She glances over at Operator, waiting for him to have it ready- ah, here it is.

He tosses the flashbang into your hands. "Activated by asking," he says. "Throw and it'll burn like the sun for a little bit. I'll handle the aftercare."

"Paris is in there. And so's Jericho and everyone else. And i'm sure they wouldn't appreciate taking a flashbang and be deaf for a while, or getting shot." I heft the flash bang carefully nevertheless. "Thanks Operator, this could still come in real handy." Then I turn to the rest of them, especially Firestorm. "Hold steady. We're not firing blindly into darkness, and we're not running in there to start a fight that's liable to have half of you punching the other half before you know it. Wait for a sign and be ready to fire or charge on my mark."

I watch the darkness closely and wait for a sign or a signal.

[Raz_Fox]

Oh? Yes, that would be easy, wouldn't it?

"If anyone's gonna eat the Wolf, it's me," the girl said and whapped the dog again, her sharp teeth bared under her little yellow hood. "Me, dad, not you." *whap whap* "Do you hear? Jerry is mine!" This was one dog telling another to get the hell off its turf, I pissed on this so it's mine and you better know it!

Hard (Go Aggro, I presume): 5+5+0 = 10

Guts, kid. Takes guts. You take your rolled-up newspaper and smack the hound that eats mens' souls, and he yields in the face of your brandished weapon, your will in paper and motion.

And he turns aside. For you.

The rolling eyes turn aside, and then wink out, and the light returns. The Banker Man claps his hands, once, twice, smiling.

Smiling at you, Kiki.

"Well done. That could have been quite... quite something." His voice is like water in the dry land, languid, refreshing. "The nerve of some gods. In the middle of holy ceremony, no less."

The death cultists are silent, still. One is holding the hands of their dead companion, an empty shell torn open across its front. With the Banker Man present, and the temperaments of those assembled, it is unlikely that violence against them will erupt.

Still. To bring the Black Dog into a holy place is not admirable, whatever their motives.


Outside, the Source is lit again, as well as it ever is. Operator whistles, and all eyes are on you, Emerald. Banker Man is unlikely to come out anytime soon, between you and me, unless somebody makes him stir hisself.

[Thanqol]

I've seen stranger things in my life. I've seen men buried alive for weeks babbling secrets when wrenched from the clay. I've seen great road wars where the gods take to the field in person. I am acculturated to strangeness; a lifetime of war and gods and sorcerers has given me a thick skin and a jaded outlook.

But never in all my life have I felt as humbled as I did when that newspaper hit my nose. I feel like I need to protest! I need to explain that was unfair, that I'm not a bad dog - and that thought is truly strange. I'm not a dog. But even if I was I wouldn't be a bad dog. I've always been - I'd always be a good dog. It's not fair!

I wrestle with the thought while holding my nose and feeling fear and a curious sense of empathy with the Black Dog despite its monstrosity, and at least I am comforted by the thought that I am not getting the brunt of this. I am not concerned for my reputation; in fact, I hope that the strangeness of the situation works to distract everyone from my act of sorcery. I hide the book away in my clothes.

And then I gather myself and my dignity and feel glad that the Banker Man is talking, because I certainly wasn't up to the task here.

[Anarion]

I smile and put away the flash bang. "See, not every problem requires rushing into combat headfirst. But it might have, so well done by all to be ready." I gave Operator a thankful look, and Firestorm a pat on the back, then turn back to the source.

The people should be leaving. Perhaps the Banker Man isn't at just this moment, but the source doesn't have enough fish to sustain every pilgrim. Which isn't to say Emerald is sending away her men by any means. "Banker Man, I'd like to speak with you, outside the source."

[Elanorin]

Kiki knew her way around the dark. It was not the first time she had been reduced to feeling her way around with her hands. She could do it with at least one hand tied behind her back ... or, as it were, searching through her coat for that old newspaper she knew she had.

Kiki always had an old newspaper.

Scowling in the dark, she rolled up the newspaper and got a good grip on her new disciplining tool. Walking right in front of her daddy dog, she whapped the newspaper right on the side of his nose. And for good measure she turned and gave Jericho a whap too. Both were being very bad dogs/wolves. Also, because she could, and it felt good.

"If anyone's gonna eat the Wolf, it's me," the girl said and whapped the dog again, her sharp teeth bared under her little yellow hood. "Me, dad, not you." *whap whap* "Do you hear? Jerry is mine!" This was one dog telling another to get the hell off its turf, I pissed on this so it's mine and you better know it!

Guts, kid. Takes guts. You take your rolled-up newspaper and smack the hound that eats mens' souls, and he yields in the face of your brandished weapon, your will in paper and motion.

And he turns aside. For you.

The rolling eyes turn aside, and then wink out, and the light returns.

Paris beams at Kiki, both impressed and proud, perhaps also a little bit bewildered as to where all this came from, what it means and the consequence of it all.

The Banker Man claps his hands, once, twice, smiling.

Smiling at you, Kiki.

"Well done. That could have been quite... quite something." His voice is like water in the dry land, languid, refreshing. "The nerve of some gods. In the middle of holy ceremony, no less."

The death cultists are silent, still. One is holding the hands of their dead companion, an empty shell torn open across its front. With the Banker Man present, and the temperaments of those assembled, it is unlikely that violence against them will erupt.

Still. To bring the Black Dog into a holy place is not admirable, whatever their motives.

Paris loses their smile the moment the Banker Man begins to speak and takes a step closer to her, reaching a hand to place gently on her shoulder, like a parent gently bidding a child to come away from the strange man addressing them on the street and offering sweets. Paris directs a look at the Banker Man to match.

"A ceremony I believe is over," Paris points out sternly.

[Deadly]

"Shhh!" Kiki held up a finger to her lips and hushed the gathering. She held it for several seconds, her eyes peeking out from under her yellow hood as they drifted around the suddenly quiet source.

Then, still bathed in silence, she pulled a radio from her coat. It was large and heavy, not in any way pretty. Something once made to last for all eternity. Who could say how the little girl managed to carry it comfortably in her coat.

She turned a knob, and a low static silence filled the air. It was a silence filled with a sense of noise. Of something deep and unsettling just below the ability of the human ear to hear. Kiki rested the large radio on her shoulder, close to her ear but pointing at the gathering, and listened. Anyone who seemed about to make any sound immediately received a fearsome glare.

"Listen!" her silent gaze commanded.

Whatever the deep and terrifying silence flooding out from the radio told her, it seemed to make an impression on her.

After an indeterminable time, the girl set the radio on the ground next to Paris and stepped towards the Source. "You see," she said and looked at the cultists. "You read," she said and looked at Jericho. "You speak," she said and looked at the Banker Man.

"But has anyone ever listened?" It wasn't an accusation, it was as much a question to herself as it was a question to everyone gathered.

She stopped at the edge of the water and looked down, inviting everyone to follow her gaze and her lead. Then she knelt down, closed her eyes, and stuck her whole head into the water ...

... and opened her ears and mind to the Source. What does it say?

Opening my Brain: 4+6+2 = 12

[Raz_Fox]

The people should be leaving. Perhaps the Banker Man isn't at just this moment, but the source doesn't have enough fish to sustain every pilgrim. Which isn't to say Emerald is sending away her men by any means. "Banker Man, I'd like to speak with you, outside the source."

Your voice has a power to it, too. A kick. The Banker Man comes out, looking like he's doing you a favor in the doing: his wither-handsome face neat, without dismay.

"The gods couldn't bear to burn this place," he says, simply. "How long did it take you to set up the irrigation on your river?" Mild, smiling: almost harmless, even.

Two servants flank him, quiet, shaven-headed disciples of the man who makes dreams true. One a man, one a woman, both hanging on his every word. There's a light in their eyes that shines from young Firestorm, too, because the Banker Man's sunlight and silver.

She stopped at the edge of the water and looked down, inviting everyone to follow her gaze and her lead. Then she knelt down, closed her eyes, and stuck her whole head into the water ...

... and opened her ears and mind to the Source. What does it say?

Opening my Brain: 4+6+2 = 12

That's a good question. Jericho, what is the Water Sermon that Kiki hears?

[Anarion]

Your voice has a power to it, too. A kick. The Banker Man comes out, looking like he's doing you a favor in the doing: his wither-handsome face neat, without dismay.

"The gods couldn't bear to burn this place," he says, simply. "How long did it take you to set up the irrigation on your river?" Mild, smiling: almost harmless, even.

Two servants flank him, quiet, shaven-headed disciples of the man who makes dreams true. One a man, one a woman, both hanging on his every word. There's a light in their eyes that shines from young Firestorm, too, because the Banker Man's sunlight and silver.

"I hope you've enjoyed your time with us," Emerald says conversationally, yet ignoring what the Banker Man is saying. "I and my men are here to escort you to the exit and see you on your way. Now." She makes a slight flourish with her cloak. "After you."

[Thanqol]

That's a good question. Jericho, what is the Water Sermon that Kiki hears?

Imagine the voice of an old philosopher, rambling and joyful and insightful. In these words, in these images, on this scale, the Source speaks.

And yet, in this holistic cosmos there is a flaw, a wound, a grasping, a mental trap. Sometimes people, animals, things, individuals trap themselves in cycles of grasping - which leads to fury, misery, isolation, bitterness. More rarely, but still sometimes, so falls a world - and the world has indeed fallen. When a planet loves, when it showers all its bounty upon a single soul, when an ecosystem cuts itself off from its own diversity and strength to show all its favour to a single point - well, that doesn't end well, does it?

And that's just what's happened. Earth has developed a grasping affection for the Boy To Whom The Earth Speaks. And while this fixation is simply an unfortunate moment from a cosmic perspective, as far as anyone on the Earth is concerned it could be ruinous. These things tend to grow, you see, and the deeper they grow the more poisonous they become.

[Elanorin]

Your voice has a power to it, too. A kick. The Banker Man comes out, looking like he's doing you a favor in the doing: his wither-handsome face neat, without dismay.

"The gods couldn't bear to burn this place," he says, simply. "How long did it take you to set up the irrigation on your river?" Mild, smiling: almost harmless, even.

Two servants flank him, quiet, shaven-headed disciples of the man who makes dreams true. One a man, one a woman, both hanging on his every word. There's a light in their eyes that shines from young Firestorm, too, because the Banker Man's sunlight and silver.

Watching Banker Man leave without a word reads about as conclusive a victory to Paris as they ever envisioned, and the angel grows a touch taller and puffs up a little. They just won a staredown against the Banker Man, unarmed, no less. That ceremony must have restored more Grace than even they thought.

While trying to rise above that uncomfortably pleasant feeling of pride inside, Paris walks over to Jericho and offers a simple nod in greeting.

"You have your hands full with this lot. Do you require assistance in keeping the serenity of the Source intact?" Right now Paris felt able to take down anyone with nothing more than an angel glare but tried their best to diminish the feeling.

[Thanqol]

"But has anyone ever listened?" It wasn't an accusation, it was as much a question to herself as it was a question to everyone gathered.

She stopped at the edge of the water and looked down, inviting everyone to follow her gaze and her lead. Then she knelt down, closed her eyes, and stuck her whole head into the water ...

I watch, uneasy and interested in equal parts. Kiki may look like a child but she is some splinter of the divine, fearsome and wise - and capable of facing down spirits as dire as the Black Dog. I hang on every word she says for insight into how to relate to her, because I'm a good dog because she is a deep and foreboding unknown and her words have the gravity of secret sorcery.

Watching Banker Man leave without a word reads about as conclusive a victory to Paris as they ever envisioned, and the angel grows a touch taller and puffs up a little. They just won a staredown against the Banker Man, unarmed, no less. That ceremony must have restored more Grace than even they thought.

While trying to rise above that uncomfortably pleasant feeling of pride inside, Paris walks over to Jericho and offers a simple nod in greeting.

"You have your hands full with this lot. Do you require assistance in keeping the serenity of the Source intact?" Right now Paris felt able to take down anyone with nothing more than an angel glare but tried their best to diminish the feeling.

I smile behind my bandages at seeing the angel strut. There's this thing Paris does where his expression changes from pride to being proud that he's transcending his pride - he wants a medal just so he can publicly turn it down. I think it's actually pretty adorable and feel compelled to play into it.

"Oh, yes, please," I say, laying it on a bit thick. "I promised to take Deimos hunting and I don't want to cancel on her - not because it'd break her heart but because she'd find something else to entertain herself - and there is no one I would trust the Source to before a living Angel."

[Raz_Fox]

"I hope you've enjoyed your time with us," Emerald says conversationally, yet ignoring what the Banker Man is saying. "I and my men are here to escort you to the exit and see you on your way. Now." She makes a slight flourish with her cloak. "After you."

The Banker Man walks, and you follow: that's the natural way of things. Sure, means he can't stab you in the back, but he's still walking a path into the world, and one that you might regret in days to come. He looks- well, you can see it, even if not too many others are noticing how he walks stiffly, as if tired, as if injured, and leans for a moment on the shoulder of one of his servitors as you approach your gates.

(Beyond them, the sky is darkening: clouds reaching towards the sky, storm-spirits howling out in the waste. Might have worse weather to deal with soon, ma'am.)

"Is there any way I may change your mind?" he asks, halting on the threshold between your territory and the wild. "Tomorrow, perhaps?"

[Anarion]

The Banker Man walks, and you follow: that's the natural way of things. Sure, means he can't stab you in the back, but he's still walking a path into the world, and one that you might regret in days to come. He looks- well, you can see it, even if not too many others are noticing how he walks stiffly, as if tired, as if injured, and leans for a moment on the shoulder of one of his servitors as you approach your gates.

(Beyond them, the sky is darkening: clouds reaching towards the sky, storm-spirits howling out in the waste. Might have worse weather to deal with soon, ma'am.)

"Is there any way I may change your mind?" he asks, halting on the threshold between your territory and the wild. "Tomorrow, perhaps?"

You know, narrator, I'm sure there might be some ways. But I can't think of any here, none that the man can offer in words.

"No there is not. Do not return here bringing your war to my people." Then Emerald watches at the gates as he departs and ensures that her own gun is ready if he has any second thoughts about putting some distance between himself and the hold.

[Deadly]

Imagine the voice of an old philosopher, rambling and joyful and insightful. In these words, in these images, on this scale, the Source speaks.

Kiki pulled her head out of the water, sat for a moment to let it wash down her raincoat and soak the ground around her, then produced a small newspaper-wrapped object from within her coat and set it down by the edge of the water.

With that, she skipped off.

You know, narrator, I'm sure there might be some ways. But I can't think of any here, none that the man can offer in words.

"No there is not. Do not return here bringing your war to my people." Then Emerald watches at the gates as he departs and ensures that her own gun is ready if he has any second thoughts about putting some distance between himself and the hold.

Kiki - having followed not too far behind - tugged at Emerald's sleeve and looked up at her. "Why'd you do that?"

[Anarion]

Kiki - having followed not too far behind - tugged at Emerald's sleeve and looked up at her. "Why'd you do that?"

Emerald sighs and gives Kiki and answer. One that she's happy to have others overhear. "Because there is war in the Ash Wastes, and though he was one man, his stay here would have brought that war to our doorstep. We welcome pilgrims to the source, but our people are not the Banker Man's shield and we won't die for him."

[Elanorin]

I smile behind my bandages at seeing the angel strut. There's this thing Paris does where his expression changes from pride to being proud that he's transcending his pride - he wants a medal just so he can publicly turn it down. I think it's actually pretty adorable and feel compelled to play into it.

"Oh, yes, please," I say, laying it on a bit thick. "I promised to take Deimos hunting and I don't want to cancel on her - not because it'd break her heart but because she'd find something else to entertain herself - and there is no one I would trust the Source to before a living Angel."

Paris paused for a moment, turned a little as if to look at Jericho in a slightly more oblique angle, that it would somehow help them see something that eluded them. A slightly more pronounced breath escaping their lips might betray that it hadn't helped.

"Then I shall remain here and keep the peace." Paris nodded with an unnecessary amount of formality. "Until you return."

The angel shifted their feet a little, as if searching and finding the exact position on which to stand guard, planted their feet, clasped hands behind the back and grew another inch.

"...oh. Uh... merry hunting," they added, unsure how to say it right, and realising that they hadn't managed it.

[Thanqol]

Paris paused for a moment, turned a little as if to look at Jericho in a slightly more oblique angle, that it would somehow help them see something that eluded them. A slightly more pronounced breath escaping their lips might betray that it hadn't helped.

"Then I shall remain here and keep the peace." Paris nodded with an unnecessary amount of formality. "Until you return."

The angel shifted their feet a little, as if searching and finding the exact position on which to stand guard, planted their feet, clasped hands behind the back and grew another inch.

"...oh. Uh... merry hunting," they added, unsure how to say it right, and realising that they hadn't managed it.

"Shall I bring you back something as a thank-you? Or would that be inappropriate?" I pressed, enjoying the Angel's discomfort too much to mercy-kill the conversation and spare him the awkwardness. I'm of the theory that if you treat Paris a little bit badly then he's way more comfortable - when he's dealing with a jerk he can just adopt that attitude of self-righteous stoicism in the face of the crude mortal world. He feels good about that, I think, he can talk confidently and eloquently and subtly one-up you with moral lessons. If you don't give him that... "I don't know if you eat meat; perhaps I can find you some berries? Or is there anything else you want?" I stand a little closer, trying to get in the Angel's head a little bit.

It's an old familiar habit, flirting. I enjoy doing it. It makes me forget my scars, lets me pretend that I'm still pretty.

[Seduce: 2d6-1: 7. I want Paris to feel attracted to me. If you do it, mark XP.]

[Deadly]

Emerald sighs and gives Kiki and answer. One that she's happy to have others overhear. "Because there is war in the Ash Wastes, and though he was one man, his stay here would have brought that war to our doorstep. We welcome pilgrims to the source, but our people are not the Banker Man's shield and we won't die for him."

Kiki watched the Banker Man in the distance. "Why would he bring a war here?"

[Anarion]

Kiki watched the Banker Man in the distance. "Why would he bring a war here?"

Emerald spits after him (not at Kiki, in the direction of the Banker Man). "Because he's a coward and he knows we're strong. He came here thinking that he could take advantage of us and force us to defend him. Because even giving him hospitality would mean we were taking his side. That's why he had to leave today."

[Deadly]

Emerald spits after him (not at Kiki, in the direction of the Banker Man). "Because he's a coward and he knows we're strong. He came here thinking that he could take advantage of us and force us to defend him. Because even giving him hospitality would mean we were taking his side. That's why he had to leave today."

Kiki seemed simply to accept your answer, like she had only been curious. She looked up at you. "Will he be mad?"

[Anarion]

Kiki seemed simply to accept your answer, like she had only been curious. She looked up at you. "Will he be mad?"

"He might be." Emerald hefts her gun, the Banker Man's form still visible as he departs the hold. "Think I should just shoot him?" She smiles, this is meant to be a joke. But then again, who's to say what would happen if you decided to push the issue? You're an unusual little fellow, after all, Kiki.

[Elanorin]

"Shall I bring you back something as a thank-you? Or would that be inappropriate?" I pressed, enjoying the Angel's discomfort too much to mercy-kill the conversation and spare him the awkwardness. I'm of the theory that if you treat Paris a little bit badly then he's way more comfortable - when he's dealing with a jerk he can just adopt that attitude of self-righteous stoicism in the face of the crude mortal world. He feels good about that, I think, he can talk confidently and eloquently and subtly one-up you with moral lessons. If you don't give him that... "I don't know if you eat meat; perhaps I can find you some berries? Or is there anything else you want?" I stand a little closer, trying to get in the Angel's head a little bit.

It's an old familiar habit, flirting. I enjoy doing it. It makes me forget my scars, lets me pretend that I'm still pretty.

Paris slowly leaned back a little as Jericho comes closer, but is inexplicably unwilling to let their feet move from their chosen spot. Their green angel eyes flit back and forth between Jericho's eyes in silence for exactly four and a half increasingly awkward moments.

"I- don't. Eat meat," Paris lied, realising that they were suddenly unseated from their metaphorical high horse somehow. "Hunting is not, and with thanks, but understood, with your... charge..." The angel abandoned the attempt, breathed a deep frustrated sigh and their eyes broke contact, roamed, only to settle on the lower half of Jericho's concealed face. A single cold drop of ice trailed down between his absent wings.

And the silent awkward moments resumed.

"I like carrots," Paris eventually insisted with a frown, straightening up again, almost leaning forwards.

[Tastest XP I've had for some time. Thankyoukindly.]

[Thanqol]

Paris slowly leaned back a little as Jericho comes closer, but is inexplicably unwilling to let their feet move from their chosen spot. Their green angel eyes flit back and forth between Jericho's eyes in silence for exactly four and a half increasingly awkward moments.

"I- don't. Eat meat," Paris lied, realising that they were suddenly unseated from their metaphorical high horse somehow. "Hunting is not, and with thanks, but understood, with your... charge..." The angel abandoned the attempt, breathed a deep frustrated sigh and their eyes broke contact, roamed, only to settle on the lower half of Jericho's concealed face. A single cold drop of ice trailed down between his absent wings.

And the silent awkward moments resumed.

"I like carrots," Paris eventually insisted with a frown, straightening up again, almost leaning forwards.

This is like a performance art piece. The fall of an angel, a comedy in four acts. She's lucky my face is covered so she doesn't have to see me holding back my laughter.

Oh, that was fun.

"Carrots it is," I said, and left the angel mid-meltdown.

Now, maybe you'll think I'm awful for this, but I honestly didn't give Paris another thought after that. The memory would cross my mind a couple of times later that day and I'd hold back a laugh but it's not like I paid any serious consideration. See, at the end of the day, Paris is an angel. A divine messenger, holy and inhuman - and that's just not the sort of thing you get in any kind of relationship with. Gods and all their godly servants are beyond the ken of mortals, are given to dangerous and passionate emotions, and there's not a better way to be cursed with snakes for hair than laying with one. I might have even played with fire a little by even pushing that far. Besides, even if, sinner I would burn up like Ikarus on the approach. No, I don't have the hubris to think I'd be worthy - not any more.

So, the end result was that I promptly and deliberately forgot about the flummoxed angel and went to find Deimos.

[Elanorin]

This is like a performance art piece. The fall of an angel, a comedy in four acts. She's lucky my face is covered so she doesn't have to see me holding back my laughter.

Oh, that was fun.

"Carrots it is," I said, and left the angel mid-meltdown.

Now, maybe you'll think I'm awful for this, but I honestly didn't give Paris another thought after that. The memory would cross my mind a couple of times later that day and I'd hold back a laugh but it's not like I paid any serious consideration. See, at the end of the day, Paris is an angel. A divine messenger, holy and inhuman - and that's just not the sort of thing you get in any kind of relationship with. Gods and all their godly servants are beyond the ken of mortals, are given to dangerous and passionate emotions, and there's not a better way to be cursed with snakes for hair than laying with one. I might have even played with fire a little by even pushing that far. Besides, even if, sinner I would burn up like Ikarus on the approach. No, I don't have the hubris to think I'd be worthy - not any more.

So, the end result was that I promptly and deliberately forgot about the flummoxed angel and went to find Deimos.

Paris stared with a scowl in to the thin air Jericho left behind, trying to grasp at loose ends and attempt to tie them together in a way that made any kind of coherent pattern. The answers they found they neither fully understood nor liked and visibly throwing it all aside the angel spun around and watched Jericho leave in the distance.

Paris relinquished the chosen spot under their feet and walked away. Instead they sought the highest point in the source to stand on. The walk there aired out any frustration from the exchange before.

Remember the sky.

Standing above the Source and its visitors, occupants and guests, they silently guarded the Source in the absence of its true keeper.

[Raz_Fox]

"He might be." Emerald hefts her gun, the Banker Man's form still visible as he departs the hold. "Think I should just shoot him?" She smiles, this is meant to be a joke. But then again, who's to say what would happen if you decided to push the issue? You're an unusual little fellow, after all, Kiki.

Operator has been walking with you, and has just finished examining the defenses at the valley's mouth, where you watch the figure of the Banker Man slowly receding. On the edge of sight, the Banker Man's convoy sits: old cars whose engine blocks are ringed with pearls and wheels, an eighteen-wheeler daubed in the symbols of old money, the crossed S repeated in a palimpsest of black ink and ash. Unlikely to have the firepower needed to force entry.

But pilgrims are always coming and going, coming, going, day by day.

"One day," Operator says, softly, "it'll be the Boy To Whom The Earth Speaks coming." He sets his jaw, and his approval of your action goes unsaid. "Where should I move men from, so we have a better checkpoint? Just for a week or two."

So, the end result was that I promptly and deliberately forgot about the flummoxed angel and went to find Deimos.

Deimos is killing a rat on the close side of the mountain.

It's not the right sort of rat. It's bloated, even with its guts being unwound, its paws cut off. Its face is the white of foam, and its teeth are human teeth. It is wheezing, its black eyes rolling in its head, as Deimos takes it apart with the careful eye of an artist. Her eyes barely turn from it as you approach.

"Kiki owes me eyes," she says. The stumps of the rat's limbs shake, and it groans terribly. "What's wrong with you?"

Paris relinquished the chosen spot under their feet and walked away. Instead they sought the highest point in the source to stand on. The walk there aired out any frustration from the exchange before.

Remember the sky.

Standing above the Source and its visitors, occupants and guests, they silently guarded the Source in the absence of its true keeper.

Are you watching for threats with your eyes and ears or with your soul, Paris?

If the former, roll Sharp. If the latter, roll Weird.

[Thanqol]

Deimos is killing a rat on the close side of the mountain.

It's not the right sort of rat. It's bloated, even with its guts being unwound, its paws cut off. Its face is the white of foam, and its teeth are human teeth. It is wheezing, its black eyes rolling in its head, as Deimos takes it apart with the careful eye of an artist. Her eyes barely turn from it as you approach.

"Kiki owes me eyes," she says. The stumps of the rat's limbs shake, and it groans terribly. "What's wrong with you?"

"Oh, me? I baited a tiger," I said in an upbeat way. "Good catch!" I add, "careful with the poison sacs," she's being careful because she missed them last time and was sick for a week and I can't resist prodding her about it. No matter how careful she is, and no matter how much she rolls her eyes, I'm going to check it before she eats it forever afterwards too. "If you've checked the snares already did you see if you wanted to catch up with the Holy Herd? Or stalk the White Stag again?" I suspect she'll choose the Herd because we hunt that in the jeep, but who can read a teenager's mood?

[Deadly]

Imagine the voice of an old philosopher, rambling and joyful and insightful. In these words, in these images, on this scale, the Source speaks.

And yet, in this holistic cosmos there is a flaw, a wound, a grasping, a mental trap. Sometimes people, animals, things, individuals trap themselves in cycles of grasping - which leads to fury, misery, isolation, bitterness. More rarely, but still sometimes, so falls a world - and the world has indeed fallen. When a planet loves, when it showers all its bounty upon a single soul, when an ecosystem cuts itself off from its own diversity and strength to show all its favour to a single point - well, that doesn't end well, does it?

And that's just what's happened. Earth has developed a grasping affection for the Boy To Whom The Earth Speaks. And while this fixation is simply an unfortunate moment from a cosmic perspective, as far as anyone on the Earth is concerned it could be ruinous. These things tend to grow, you see, and the deeper they grow the more poisonous they become.

"He might be." Emerald hefts her gun, the Banker Man's form still visible as he departs the hold. "Think I should just shoot him?" She smiles, this is meant to be a joke. But then again, who's to say what would happen if you decided to push the issue? You're an unusual little fellow, after all, Kiki.

Operator has been walking with you, and has just finished examining the defenses at the valley's mouth, where you watch the figure of the Banker Man slowly receding. On the edge of sight, the Banker Man's convoy sits: old cars whose engine blocks are ringed with pearls and wheels, an eighteen-wheeler daubed in the symbols of old money, the crossed S repeated in a palimpsest of black ink and ash. Unlikely to have the firepower needed to force entry.

But pilgrims are always coming and going, coming, going, day by day.

"One day," Operator says, softly, "it'll be the Boy To Whom The Earth Speaks coming." He sets his jaw, and his approval of your action goes unsaid. "Where should I move men from, so we have a better checkpoint? Just for a week or two."

Kiki looked up at Emerald and Operator, taking in their words, letting them mix with those of the Source. "If you loved someone very much, and they died ... if someone killed them ... what would you do?" It was a question for both of them.

[Elanorin]

Are you watching for threats with your eyes and ears or with your soul, Paris?

If the former, roll Sharp. If the latter, roll Weird.

Normally it would be the former, but this is the sacred Source, this demands my every sense to keenly seek for signs of threat.

[Rolling Weird: 2+1+1=4]

But it seems my mind is still disturbed and distracted...

[Anarion]

Kiki looked up at Emerald and Operator, taking in their words, letting them mix with those of the Source. "If you loved someone very much, and they died ... if someone killed them ... what would you do?" It was a question for both of them.

Ah, what a question. It asks for a suitable answer in front of an audience. Goodness knows, Emerald would do many things. Cry, hate, rage, fall into depression, try to complete the work of a lover, bring the killer to justice seek revenge. What she said was
"I'd burn the world until it handed me the killer and then make them suffer a death for every moment I'd been deprived of my lover."