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Post by Maverick55 on Feb 4, 2008 22:50:08 GMT
WARNING
This story contains: - offensive language (infrequent, mild but sometimes harsh) - blood and gore (rare) - horror (fantasy in nature) - drug use - death
all similarities to people living or dead is either coincidence or have been informed of said similarities any copywrited properties referenced within are the copyright of their respective owners
that said, enjoy the story and feel free to comment/suggest in a separate thread
Maverick out
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Post by Maverick55 on Feb 4, 2008 22:55:48 GMT
I walked down the street rain soaking through my trenchcoat, yeah, yeah, I know, their a little clichéd but they usually kick ass at keeping you dry. Usually. This was not one of those times. My coat is a long, black affair that makes me look like someone from the Gestapo if I ever wear a fedora (which I never do, only Indy and Bogart ever pulled that off). No matter how cool and intimidating my trenchcoat is, it doesn’t seem to be its usual waterproof self today. I had to put up with the rain soaking me to the bone while I walked to where I was going. The pub. And as I like to grumble, I’ll explain why this was more annoying than rain usually was. This was not the nice, light, misty rain of summer, or even the spattering, haphazard deluges of spring, no, this was the cold, hard, stormy type of rain that turns your day to so much crap. Another of the things that made my day annoying was where I was. Guess, it’s a doozy. I had to spend my day in London of all places. London. Possibly the most annoying place I have ever encountered, too many people, too expensive and thoroughly annoying to travel across. Most of day had been spent tailing two members of the White Court (I’ll explain about them soon enough), I’d followed them through some of the sleaziest places I’d ever been in, and that’s saying something, they had also decided to have dinner in a very expensive restaurant, so I’d had to spend a large portion of my retainer on buying overpriced food to keep myself from being thrown out. While I didn’t mind spending other people’s money, I’d also had to use a lot of my own resources stopping them from spotting me. Even my impressive skills, very humble I know, are not up to following two of those guys around for an entire day. I’d used three sports bottles worth of potions and emptied one of my more useful talismans of magic. Yes, that’s right. Magic.
I should probably introduce myself now. My name is William Jonathan Wayne Ash. I know, I know, a bit of a mouthful and you all know who I’m named after (if you don’t know who the Duke is, then…well I’ll just have to educate you), but in my line of work a long name comes in handy. I’m a Wizard. Not a magician, although it kind of applies to us. I don’t do children’s parties or pull rabbits out of hats or make people float, well that last bit’s a lie, I do sometimes make people float, but I don’t do it to entertain. I am a member of the White Council, like a chess club for Wizards but with more old guys, an actual (and slightly murderous) police force and, of course, a set of rules that are not taken lightly. If you break these rules, that’s it, no second chances, no appeals (except that one time), you’re judged and you’re punished. This is usually carried out by the Wardens (that police force I mentioned), not exactly the nicest guys sometimes, but they can be quite personable as long as you stay on the straight and narrow. So Magic is real. Right now you’re probably thinking it’s all Harry Potter and wands and nice spells to memorise. It’s not. Magic is not something that comes from without, it’s not words that you say to achieve a nice special effect. What it really is, is the manipulation of the primal forces of creation. The very stuff that flows through every insignificant bit of matter and energy that makes up reality, kinda like the Force now I think about it but without the clear distinction between good and evil . It would be really nice if all the bad guys in the world wore black hats and all the good guys wore white ones, it’s not that clear cut unfortunately, it’s all shades of grey in the real world. But anyway, back to magic. Magic, as I’ve said, is an energy that is everywhere. Most of the time we wizards just use that reservoir of energy we carry within ourselves, depending on how talented, skilled or just how naturally powerful you are, you can do a lot of things without taking energy from the natural world. It can’t be accessed in its pure form from the world around us, we can only take it when it is in another form, like lightning or fire, or even just the ambient heat of the air. We can use this energy to do almost anything we can imagine, as long as you can imagine it. What you can do with magic is limited by a mixture of willpower, skill, personal power and imagination. The main thing that catches out young wizards is that you have to truly believe in whatever magic you’re trying to do. With things like fireballs or gusts of wind it doesn’t really matter, but if you try to heal someone and don’t think it’s possible? Then it just won’t work, no matter how much energy you put into it. By the by, not only is magic real, so are a lot of the mythical creatures you know of. Like vampires for instance. And no, they’re nothing like what Joss Whedon imagined, well in nothing but a totally superficial manner. That brings me back to the guys I was following, the White Court guys, remember them? They’re vampires, one of three types, but I’ll explain that later.
Well, I was still walking through London. In the pouring rain no less. And I had yet to find the pub I knew was somewhere around here. Fortunately I came across a pay phone, and I was due to report back anyway. I walked over, no longer caring that I looked like a drowned rat and knowing that even if I hurried I could not get any more wet. When I got over to it I fumbled around my wallet for change, so I could actually phone in and get paid for my afternoon of traipsing around after two uber-horny semi-immortals through London. I put the money in the phone, thankful that I had found one that wasn’t vandalised or broken, or some combination thereof. I punched in the number, hoping they hadn’t put the rates up since last time, which they were wont to do, greedy bastards. A tired yet still slightly chipper Scottish woman answered after a few rings “Grey’s Publishing, how may I help?” “Operative Ash reporting in, identification code violet-niner-six-beta.” “One moment.” I heard the click of a button and quickly took the two small disks from my pocket, hurriedly putting them over the speaker and receiver of the payphone handset. “Operative Ash, you were supposed to report in over an hour ago.” The pleasant Scottish tone had been replaced by the slight Yorkshire accent of a youngish woman, and she sounded none to pleased “I’m doing fine, how’s things with you Nix?” “This is business Will, you’ll call me Commander Reid or I’ll cut your pay, along with anything else I can get my hands on.” “Sorry commander, ‘s been a rough day, forgot that the Wardens don’t much care for social niceties.” “Will, shut up. I find your sarcasm and flippant attitude amusing, even endearing at times, this is not one of them.” She sounded really pissed now, score one for me. “OK, sorry. I followed the two targets through London, they stopped in a few of the more expensive shops, browsed for a couple hours but finally bought some rather dashing leather jackets and some disturbingly tight jeans. After that they went to a couple shops in Soho that make Ann Summers look positively tame, after a few more hours of embarrassing browsing and the purchase of some rather kinky implements, although I have no idea what they were for, they proceeded to have lunch. After an obscenely priced sandwich they went to see a few old acquaintances, drug dealers and not the nice chaps I used to hang around with, these guys made the Kray twins look like Santa. They bought a couple ki’s of blow and maybe an pound of coke, they also got a bottle of some weird clear liquid, no idea what it was, but the dealers were very cagey with it, think it’s some new designer drug. I looked at it with the Sight and caught a few flashes of something, I can’t be completely sure but I think I saw something to do with the Red Court when I looked. After that they headed back to their apartment with a couple of girls they met on the tube and that’s all I have, your observation team can probably tell you what they did after that, if you don’t know already.” She sighed, an oddly cute sound for someone who had threatened to ‘cut’ bits of me that I would prefer not to be cut. “Okay, thank you Will. The money will be wired to you within the next couple of days, we’ll contact you if we need you to do anything else…and Will?” “Yeah Commander Reid?” “Good job Will, really, I don’t know anyone who could have tailed to White Court vamps without being found. Y’ know, we could really use you on staff as it were. Why do you never just go full time for us?” She sounded hopeful, like our history could make me change my mind. “You know why Nix, but keep trying to convince me, one day it might work. And thanks, for the ‘good job’.” “Okay Will, you got anything else to report or was that it?” All business now, good thing too, I really don’t like letting her down. “Not so much as something to report as a question to ask.” “What is it?” “Where the hell is the Bottom of the Garden pub? I’ve been walking in this bloody rain for an hour or two now and I still haven’t found it!” She laughed, I really wish she would stop doing that, it always makes me…confused. “Head north from where you are and take the next street to the left, you’ll see the stairs down a couple metres after that.” “Thanks Nix, you always know how to cheer me up.” “It’s not exactly hard, talk about alcohol or other activities and you get as hyper as a squirrel on espresso.” “Very true. See ya Nix.” “Bye Will.” I hung up the phone, before I said something stupid. After a minute of fiddling the scrambler disks from the handset I set of in search of the pub. I went north, my handy-dandy compass/watch telling me which way to go. I found the street, turned down it, and found the pub. I almost cried with joy. The ‘Bottom of the Garden’ is very well hidden gem in London’s back streets. It caters to the supernatural element of the populace and can’t really be found unless you have some parahuman senses, like my wizard’s Sight or the enhanced senses that come part and parcel with vampirism. The name comes from the old myth that Faeries live at the bottom of gardens, I can tell you know that they don’t. They usually live in super expensive mansions or more often somewhere in the Nevernever (the place where most non-human beasties live, breed and generally do some kinky shit). I walked in, the smell of alcohol and smoke wafting in the air (they don’t exactly abide by the no smoking law in places like this) bringing a smile to my face. I went to the bar, digging out my wallet as I did. “Hey Bri, can you get me a corona please, lime if you’ve got it.” He grunted, in assent I assumed, and went to get me my bottle of Mexican heaven. He came back, took my money and handed over the nicely cold bottle of lager. I took a swig, cold, slightly bitter and pleasantly sharp (from the lime) gold flowed down my throat, instantly wiping away a multitude of aches and annoyances. This single bottle was worth putting up with the irritating weather outside. I had almost retreated from the annoyances of the world when someone spoke my name “Well hello Will, didn’t expect to see you here!” I turned around, all the annoyances returning, and saw a tall, blond man standing next to me, he looked a little similar to Sting but not enough to make me glad to see him. “Hello Vince.”
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Post by Maverick55 on Feb 8, 2008 17:53:17 GMT
“’Hello Vince’? ‘Hello Vince’! Tha’s all you got to say to your best pal in th’ entire world?” I took another swig from my corona, wishing that the thingy next to me would sod off out of my life once and for all. Annoyingly it didn’t work, there’s only so much that Magic can do apparently. “Vince, we were not ‘best pals’, in fact we were pretty much enemies. You do remember the time I set you on fire right? ‘Cause I certainly remember the time you dropped me off that roof! I had to use a bloody cane for three sodding months!” He looked at me, his eyes squinting slightly, as if he was having trouble understanding me. It clicked. “Your high aren’t you Vince. Bloody hell man, I thought our last misadventure would’ve bloody well warned you off that stuff!” He just looked at me, eyes glazed over and pupils dilated far beyond necessity, hardly believing what he heard (if the gormless look on his face was to be believed). “Nah, why’d it do that? What happened was entirely your fault, you shoulda never taken tha’ stuff, you were always a ligh’weight when it came to acid.” I turned away from him; I really didn’t want to be reminded of that trip. I still had nightmares about what had happened that day. “Vince, shut up and sit down, if you want to talk, talk. But not about that.” He shook his head, a slow, languid movement that seemed wholly inhuman. “Ok, ok. Sheesh, since when were you such a straight edge. Back in the day you were more hardcore than me.” “I changed Vince, I grew up. After what I…what happ…after that I decided to clean myself up.” “Whatever you say pal. You aren’t the first to try and stay clean, and you won’t be the last.” He pinched the top of his nose; the bastard must’ve gotten a headache from whatever crap he was. Good. “Damn, bloody comin’ down. Can’t have that now, can we.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a bottle of eye drops, which was slightly odd. What the hell was he doing? He looked at me, a glint in his eye, one I remembered from back in the day, when he had gotten something to get off our faces on, something good. Considering he’d taken, injected, snorted, smoked and swallowed almost every drug known to man (and you wouldn’t know it if you looked at him, a perk of being a wizard I guess.) it would have to be some good stuff to give him that look. “I see you’re wondering what I have here pal o’ mine. Well, what I have here is the newest thing to hit the streets, Sanguine. Take a couple mil’ of this, add it to an ordinary cigarette (self rolled of course) and take a couple puffs, it’s better than sex, hell it’s better than blow.” Sanguine? What the hell is that? I thought of using the Sight to take a look at it, but I really didn’t want to see Vince with that, he’d done too much for it to anywhere near pleasant. “What the hell is it?” He smiled as he took a packet of roll ups and some tobacco from another pocket. “Suppose I can trust you, not like you’re gonna tell the Wardens about it.” Ha! I’d bloody call them right now if I had a mobile, and if it would actually work around me. “What this stuff is, is Red Court Venom.” Shit. That was not good. Red Court vampires made this stuff, well actually they secrete it. As spit. Yeah I know, eww. This stuff caused euphoria, numbness, paralysis, made it damn near impossible to think straight and was more addictive than anything on the planet. They use it when they bite their victims, if your victim is unable to move and acts like you’re giving him (or her) a birthday ‘treat’ their not likely to struggle as you rip open their flesh and lap the blood from their arteries. “What the hell?! You do realise what that stuff does to you, don’t you?” “Of course, that’s why they change it slightly. It’s laced with a little something that makes it more sensitive to heat, which is also why you smoke it. It breaks down, removes all the nasty side effects that it has normally and becomes the best d**n drug on the planet.” I took his sudden eloquence and clarity as evidence that he’d finally come down from the high, which was probably a bad thing. A sober Vince usually meant that bad things were about to happen, usually involving me, and perhaps a high building. “So no side effects at all? Sounds like you’re telling porkies.” He looked up from his busy hands, expertly rolling the Sanguine laced ciggie like they’d done it a thousand times before (which, knowing Vince, was quite possible), and smiled at me. Crap. That smile had gotten me into a lot of trouble in the past. “I’m telling you no lies pal, this stuff is one hundred percent euphoria, no strings attached. If you don’t believe me, why not try it yourself?” Christ, why did he have to do that? Offering me drugs is really, really not a good thing.
After a rather average and uneventful youth I left to travel the world, continuing my magical education as I went. After about two years on the road I met Vince. I found him in a bar in Philly, started talking to him after a couple shots and found he was a wizard too. He lit the top of a shot, without the use of a lighter. After that, well things kind of built up their own momentum. After a very drunken night in that bar, he introduced me to drugs. Light stuff at first but after a year or so we quickly progressed onto the really hardcore stuff. Suffice to say, I don’t exactly remember those years (supposedly we hung together for about five years, but you know what they say, “its not the years, it’s the mileage.”) I was completely conscious for most of them. We kind of fell out after a while though, no matter how much I enjoyed the high, I always felt guilty, like I shouldn’t be wasting my life, no matter how long it could be, on being strung out or wasting my magic on stealing cash to pay for my habit. He didn’t share my guilt, he revelled in the ‘freedom’ of it all. One day we dropped some acid in the flat we had ‘borrowed’, it did not end well. During a particularly bad trip, Vince decided it would be fun to take me up to the roof and see if I could fly. I couldn’t. After a (thankfully) short drop, only three stories, I came out of my stupor enough to be pissed at him. With a dramatic pose (or at least what I thought was one) and a slurring of Italian, I set him on fire. He didn’t appreciate it but I thought it was damn funny. After blacking out for a minute or two, I awoke to see a still smoking and barely standing Vince crawling towards me. As I still wasn’t in my right mind I summoned up a wind to push him back, not realising I was still hallucinating. I pushed an eight year old girl into the middle of a road. After that I almost killed myself, self harm when you’re a wizard is actually surprisingly hard, after years of training and study, my spell casting reflexes were honed t a razor edge and I managed to bring up a shield quickly enough to stop myself from becoming street pizza. Unfortunately, I didn’t do it quickly enough to stop the fall from breaking my back. I awoke in a Warden run hospital, somewhere in Scotland, and was cared back to health and sobriety by none other than my esteemed employer, Nicola ‘Nix’ Reid. With a hefty amount of verbal and physical ‘encouragement’ (a mixture of slaps to the head, kicks to the arse, copious swearing and other ‘activities’) she managed to put me back together, made me the sarcastic, arrogant, thoroughly talented and flippant wizard I am today. I threw myself into the Arts for a couple more years, making up for my lost years with Vince, and almost joined the Wardens. Unfortunately in that time I managed to get hooked again, nothing as bad as the last time, but I was still on a slippery slope. Nix found me half dead from an overdose in my study, she managed to get me to a hospital and brought me back from death’s door once more. She gave me aright good arse kicking for that, I’ve still got the scars. Apparently my trauma from my first suicide attempt gave me a little amnesia, I didn’t remember the girl so I didn’t have enough of a reason to stay clean. After my overdose, I remembered everything, in sickening detail. Apparently when I came down off of the LSD I opened my wizards Sight, the head trauma hid it from me for a while but now I can describe every second of what I did. The Sight allows a wizard to see the truth behind everything, for example I can see what a person represents at their very core or the memories associated with a certain place. It allows you to see if any magic has been used in a place and what it did when it was used, it allows you to see through veils and detect the effects of magic on a person. It showed me the soul of an eight year old girl with the whole world ahead of her. No wonder I tried to kill myself. Nix set me right, lots of therapy and antidepressants later and I went back to what I am now, if slightly more withdrawn and angry. I left Nix after that, she thinks it’s because I don’t fell like I deserve her, but it’s really because I don’t want to hurt anyone else with my stupidity.
And now, thanks to my pal Vince, I once again stood at the top of a slippery slope. Drugs without consequence are the dream of all addicts, and I was no different. For all my sobriety I still longed for the high, could still fell it in my veins, like the embrace of an old lover. But I’m stronger than that damn it! I chained up my personal demon once more and turned away from him. “Suit yourself pal, I never did like sharing anyway.” I quickly finished my beer and moved away before he could light up, I really didn’t want to test my resolve tonight.
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Post by Maverick55 on Feb 8, 2008 23:45:57 GMT
I went to the other end of the bar and ordered a coke, while alcohol may be the best thing since sliced bread it is not a good idea when your drug dealing friend is offering you something to get high on. Damn, I really should give Nix another call. She needs to know about this but I don’t think calling her again so soon would be a good idea, she’s more addictive than any drug I’ve ever taken, heh, there’s a good pick up line in there somewhere. I took my drink and looked around the pub. The ‘Bottom of the Garden’ is rarely full at the best of times, not enough people/creatures know about it for Brian (the owner/bartender) to fill it up, but tonight it was setting anew record for emptiness. There were only ten people/beasties in here other than me. There was a group of three at a table in the middle of the room: two men and a woman. The woman and one of the men looked similar enough to be related, and the other guy acted like a puppy dog around them, he fetched their drinks, wiped the table down and did other things of varying levels of b!tchery. They acted a bit posh for a place like this and looked too perfect to be human, not a good sign. Another group of three sat in a dark corner, close enough together that they almost counted as one person. A tallish man sat between two scantily clad (well scantily is a bit of an overstatement) girls who barely looked over twenty. I couldn’t see what he looked like, but he gave me a bad case of the tinglies. The last table was occupied by two of the most beautiful women I have ever encountered. One looked around about thirty or so, but exuded an aura of sexiness that sent the blood rushing from my head, until I took the advice of a dear friend of mine, and thought of Margaret Thatcher on a cold day. That sent the blood screaming away and back to my brain. She had hair the colour of copper; it flowed in a cascade that reached the small of her back. She looked about 6’, maybe taller, and had the kind of long limbed grace that made it impossible to look away if she moved. She wore a dress the colour of grass but with a slight shine to it, as if frost had formed over the fabric and topped it all off with a pair of heels that added about six inches to her height (making her almost 6’6”) and were pointy enough to be classified as weapons in some countries. Her friend was different. She was short, maybe 5’6” and had the kind of figure that would put her on the front of fashion magazines everywhere. She was wearing clothes that completely contrasted her friend. Rather than a fashionable and pretty dress, she wore a t-shirt about three sizes too small (and from what I could see, that was all she wore on her torso), a pair of jeans so frayed and torn that they hardly qualified as clothing anymore and to top it off she wore a pair of plastic flip-flops that allowed you to see her blue toenails. And rather than the flowing red curls of her counterpart, she had dreadlocks (yes, dreadlocks) that were individually dyed. They were all coloured shades of blue and white, and hung to just below her shoulders. Her t-shirt revealed a ring in her navel and tattoos across both arms. Annoyingly (or disturbingly perhaps) she countered her massive hotness by looking all of sixteen years old. She was jailbait in the worst possible sense of the word, too hot to not notice, but too young to even think of in the wrong way. Did I happen to mention that she had blue skin? It was the blue of a cold winter sky, and was complemented by her silver eyes. Not grey, silver. She also happened to have irises like a cat, which gave her gaze an oddly hypnotic quality. Her friend was similarly odd. Her skin was a pearlescent white, it gained highlights of every colour under the sun when looked at from different angles, her eyes were also cat like, but were the colour of gold. Great. They were Faeries. Not the nice Faeries that take teeth from under pillows (well, actually, there is a tooth fairy, but she’s not very nice. She likes to bite, and when she has a mouth literally filled with teeth, it tends to hurt a little) or the kind of Faeries that you hear about in children’s tales. These were the nasty kind. Faeries came in two basic types: Seelie and Unseelie. The Seelie were also known as the Summer Court, they embodied the concepts of the season from which they take their name, this can make them warm and kind, but then again, summer also embodies life, and life comes in all sorts of forms (think Ebola virus). While they are the nicer of the two Courts, they are by no means the good guys. The Unseelie, or Winter Court, are exactly like their namesake: cold, cruel and the embodiment of death, however, winter is also beautiful and peaceful. Both Courts have their upsides and downsides. The word Faerie is a catchall term used for various denizens of the Nevernever. The Nevernever is another dimension, it sits ‘on top’ of our own reality and contains most of the lands, countries and afterlives that the human race has come up with. Faeries can be of many different types, for instance, they can be ogres or centaurs or trolls or any of a hundred other mythic creatures. The two that sat in front of me were Sidhe, this type of Faerie is the most powerful and dangerous kind. They have more power than any ten wizards, but are bound by certain rules: they cannot lie, but that doesn’t mean they’ll tell you the whole truth, and they must honour an agreement. They also use this rule against us, if for instance, they offer you something, they are bound to do it, even if what you think they are offering is something completely different to what they are actually offering. I looked away from the two Sidhe, hoping they didn’t catch me staring, and found that the tallish man from the corner was making his way to the bar. He was taller than me and had the build of a swimmer, all liquid grace and rippling muscle. He had hair the colour of midnight which fell in wavy locks to his ears, his skin was unnaturally pale, but it didn’t give him the weird ghostly look you see with Goth kids, it made him look like he was carved from marble. He had sharp cheekbones and an aquiline nose that gave him a distinguished look and the long fluttery eyelashes that drive women wild. Christ, I’m straight, yet the way this guy looked I may change sides just to see have a quick look-see. Ah-ha! It hit me; he’s a bloody White Court vampire. No wonder he looked like the long forgotten Greek God of Cologne and was handsome enough to draw the stares of anybody with a pair of eyes. White Court vampires are succubi (or incubi if they’re male). They feed on the life force of their prey (us) rather than their blood. They do this by stimulating emotions in whoever they’re feeding off, any emotion will do. In the case of the High Priest of Lynx that was walking towards me, he fed off lust. The demon that was bonded with his soul allowed him to give off an aura that made him superhumanly attractive to anyone; this was usually passive and affected anyone who saw him, but could be turned up to eleven and would make him irresistible, literally. Other members of the White Court fed on emotions like fear, sorrow or anger and had abilities and physical features that helped them engender that feeling within their prey, but most fed on lust (well, it is the most fun to feed on). Unlike other vampires, members of the White Court were not vulnerable to the classic weapons of choice. Garlic didn’t hurt them, they could sunbathe without fear and used crucifixes with wild abandon (although the crucifix doesn’t always work, but I can explain that later). While they were the least vulnerable, they were also the weakest in terms of strength. They could rip steel doors off of their hinges and punch people’s heads off; they had to tap into their inner demon to do so. Other vampires had natural strength and only needed to feed to survive, White Court vampires needed to feed to be strong, the more energy they used the more powerful they became but this uses up their energy store quicker. Because of this they preferred to use guile rather than force when they had to fight. While I was franticly thinking heterosexual thoughts in an effort to stop myself doing something embarrassing, he had reached the bar. He looked at me with a smile that could charm the pants off a nun and said in a silky smooth voice “Just window shopping, or are you thinking of buying something?” I couldn’t help but laugh, he was annoyingly charming in addition to being the embodiment of a Lynx advert. “Sorry, I’ve had a rough day and your aura was mucking with my head a little.” “Just my aura? Damn, I thought my perfectly formed arse and steely abs might have had some effect on you as well.” “While it is perfectly formed, I prefer arses to be attached to something slightly more feminine, no offence.” He laughed at that, and extended his hand towards me. “I’m Robert Veidt, pleased to meet you, mister…” I shook his hand, it was oddly cold. Another weird thing about White Court vampires. “William Ash, call me Will.” He ordered a bottle of corona, a man after my own heart. “Well then Will, what’s a man like you doing in a bar like this? You seem a bit normal for this place.” In response I held a hand in front of me “Fuoco” A small orb of flame appeared in my outstretched palm, flickering in the air slightly, the magic caused the lights above us to flicker slightly as well “Ah, a wizard. I should have guessed, the coat practically shouts ‘wizard’.” “Hey! Don’t dis’ the coat, it’s come in handy a couple times. And it looks really cool.” “You’re oddly…well I suppose funny is the right word…for a wizard anyway. Most of the others I’ve met have had a stick shoved up their arse.” “Ha ha, you’re right about that. Most of them are doddering old farts with no sense of humour. I, however, am very funny.” “Hmm, I wouldn’t say very…” “I can set you on fire you know.” He smiled again, this time flashing some teeth. “And I can rip you limb from limb.” “Indeed you could, but then you’d mess your artfully styled hair and get blood on your shirt. And I hear blood is very difficult to get out of silk.” I gave him my own teeth filled smile, desperately trying not to laugh. “That it is, I suppose I can leave you alive for now at least. Care to join me and the girls at my table? It means you can ogle the Faeries and me with impunity.” “You’re not going to let me forget that are you?” “Of course not. It’s not every day you get to make fun of a wizard.” I sighed. There are worse fates than having to put up with a glib vampire, like having to put up with two…
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Post by Maverick55 on Mar 30, 2008 22:38:45 GMT
“Ok, if I’m going to have a drink, I may as well do it at a table with a good view of the Faeries.” I closed my hand, putting out the small flame that I had conjured. I looked across at Robert and picked up my drink, he smiled that slightly predatory smile and headed back to his table. I followed him; the path to his table went a little too close to the three disturbingly perfect looking people and I got a case of the tinglies because of it. As I went past the table I got a look at their drinks, three Bloody Mary’s. They were a little too red for tomato juice. I took a quick breath in through my nose. Crap. It seems these guys like their Bloody Mary’s to be literal, they were using real blood. Put that together with their inhumanly perfect looks and only one thing comes to mind. Red Court Vampires. I didn’t exactly have a good reputation with the Red’s, a slight misunderstanding a couple years ago led to the death of a rather highly placed and powerful Red. They put a price on me, but hopefully these guys wouldn’t recognise me or they would respect the fact that this place is a Sanctuary. Neither of those was very likely. I quickly stepped away and joined Robert at his table. I squeezed myself into the corner next to Robert’s blond friend, politely nodding as I did. “Good evening ladies.” The two girls smiled at me. The smiles were oddly honest, more honest than I thought the type of people who hung with Whites could be. Thomas sat between the two, arms slung over their shoulders. They were pretty girls, the kind that made you look twice if they passed by and then lingered in your thoughts for a while longer. They didn’t seem to be anything other than human (surgically ‘enhanced’ humans, but nothing too special), so I relaxed a little. I had a quick swig of my corona and looked around the room again. Vincent was still swaying slightly on his stool next to the bar, his flushed skin and half-lidded eyes reminding me of things best left alone. I shifted my gaze quickly, only to have it come to rest on the three Red’s sitting not too far away. They were still quietly talking and drinking, but didn’t seem to have caught on to who I was just yet. Another slight turn of my head brought my eyes to rest on the two Faeries. My eyes drifted of their own accord, heading south from their ‘interesting’ hair and pausing at a couple of stops on the way. I put my drink down and adjusted myself slightly, before wresting my eyes away from the two otherworldly beauties. I looked at Brian. An odd man really. He ran a bar for the magical and inhuman elements of London, but didn’t seem to have anything that might class him as anything other than mortal. He was tall, well above six feet, and solidly built. His knuckles were scarred and almost permanently swollen; I think he must have boxed in his youth. His head was clean shaven that combined with his lack of eyebrows made it hard to tell his age. His skin was leathery and tanned and had a few lines of scarring, to large and nasty to be from innocent pursuits, he also had a tattoo that emerged from the neckline of his t-shirt. He had a look in his steely eyes that suggested he would not take any crap from anybody, this was reinforced by the guns that I knew were hidden all along the bar, spaced so he could get his hands on a weapon no matter where he was. I turned back to Robert, only to find him necking the brunette that sat next to him, much to the annoyance of the blonde that sat near me. “So, Robert. Are you going to introduce me to these lovely young ladies, or are you going to get it on with the brunette on the table?” The blonde giggled, a pleasantly high pitched and bubbly sound that reminded me of Nix. Robert pulled his head away from the still yearning brunette and sighed. “I suppose I should, it’s not very well mannered of me to occupy myself while I have a guest” He put a finger to the lips of the hungry brunette and pushed her back, pulling his finger away from her mouth before she could grab it. Eww. He looked at me, eyes and skin visibly darkening after his short feeding. “Linda” he said indicating the disappointed brunette “Tess” pointing to the bubbly blonde “this is William Ash. He’s a wizard.” The brunette, Linda, pulled her eyes away from Robert to look confusedly at me. Tess smiled all the wider, hands clasping in front of her ample chest (not that I was looking) in joy. “Well, Will, why don’t you tell the two girls a little about yourself.” Said Robert, obviously putting me on the spot to get back at my interruption earlier. “Well, Linda, Tess, as Robert here said, I’m a wizard. I suppose you know a little about this from him” Tess replied quickly, her cute voice made all the cuter by a very slight, almost unnoticeable lisp (probably from the bar through her tongue). “Yep, Robby’s told lots about wizards and vampires and faeries and magic and stuff…” Her voice trailed off at the end, obviously she wanted to know more than what ‘Robby’ had told her. Linda simply nodded; clearly wanting the conversation to be over sp she could get back to Robert’s intoxicating touch. When you were fed upon by White Court vampires, you quickly became addicted to it, one of the more unseemly things about them. “Well Tess, what would you like to know about Wizards and magic? I can’t tell you everything though, it would ruin my charming mystique.” Robert smiled at that, while Linda rolled her eyes. Tess, however, seemed honestly amused by my wit. This might actually turn out to be a good night after all. “Well, Robby never told us how you actually do magic. He said it was something to do with magic words or something.” Magic words, I grinned at the irony. “First things first. There are no magic words. Of course, we do use words to cast spells, but the words themselves have no meaning to anyone but the Wizard who says them.” She screwed up her face in confusion. “Ok, when you cast magic you are channelling some seriously destructive and powerful energies through your self. You funnel these energies through both your body and mind; all that you need to protect yourself physically is to be utterly focused on what you want the magic to do, so that none is shaped by wandering thoughts. That never turns out well, believe me. But protecting your mind? That requires something a little trickier.” I took another swig from my corona and continued. “When magic goes through your mind, it isn’t in a physical fashion, at least not entirely. To protect your mind you need to place a barrier between the magic and your consciousness. The best way to do that is with words. People say that a picture is worth a thousand words, but words themselves mean more than what they simply describe. A word like love, for instance, brings all sorts of thoughts to your mind. By having this barrier of thoughts you stop the energy of whatever spell you cast from hurting you. But you can’t just use any words, no, if you use a word that you know too well the barrier is too thin, it isn’t strong enough to block the magical power from harming you.” She looked at me with rapt attention, I saw that Linda was looking interested as well, even Robert’s mask of disaffection was slipping. “The best way to use words that you both know and fell, but also are distant enough from you that they offer adequate protection, is to use a different language than the one you usually speak. For most wizards this is Latin, or at least some form of quasi-Latin. Others use more ancient and different languages. Personally I use Italian. I’m a bit of an opera fan. It doesn’t matter what language you use as long as the words you say are close enough to what you imagine the Magic into being.” I pushed my almost empty bottle to one side and raised my hand palm upwards in front of me. “Luce.” A small ball of light appeared in my hand, silently flitting across my outstretched palm. Tess clapped excitedly, an infectious smile on her ruby lips. Linda and Robert were more interested now that I had actually performed magic. The light above me fizzled and popped as the bulb went out, dimming the table even more. I quickly put the orb of light out and held my hands up in apology to Brian. I really didn’t want that guy angry at me, all my wizardly skill and might wouldn’t help if was beating my face to a pulp. “What happened there?” said Tess “One of the more annoying aspects of magic. Technology doesn’t work reliably when magic is present. The older or less sophisticated it is the more likely it is to work, but even chemical reactions don’t always work. Only purely mechanical stuff is safe to use. That’s why I’m not wearing a watch and don’t have a mobile phone, hell I don’t even have light bulbs or electricity at home!” At that point the lights went out, sometimes I really shouldn’t say anything. Honestly, I’m like the guy who says he’ll be right back in a horror movie. It was utter darkness, the pitch black of night outside crept in through the few windows that this place had. I doubted that even the Red’s or Robert could see in this. Barley a second had passed when I heard a thump somewhere over where I think the bar might have been. I raised a hand in the darkness and called forth the first thing you think of when the darkness comes in. “Luce!” This was not the small orb of light I had called forth to entertain Tess, this was a beacon that shone almost as bright as the sun. It highlighted the scene in harsh monochrome. The Faeries sat only slightly startled by what had happened, the three Red’s stood with their arms over their faces, as if expecting the light to burn. It might have been as bright as sunlight but lacked the Magic that separated the sun’s rays from other light sources. Brian stood with a shotgun I hand and had a torch on the bar in front of him. Linda hugged Robert close, awkwardly standing in the confined space as Robert had stood up, ready for a fight. Tess was holding my free hand, a look of abject fear on her pretty face. Vince no longer slouched at the bar. He lay on the floor, eyes open but unseeing, with smoke still trailing from the cigarette in his hand and rising from his silently screaming mouth. Well, shit. Tonight obviously wasn’t going to be as relaxing as I’d hoped.
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Post by Maverick55 on Apr 23, 2008 21:47:26 GMT
Vince lay smoking on the floor, ashes from his cigarette tumbling to the floor. The light in my hand wavered slightly as I took the situation in. One of the people I knew well was lying dead in front of me. He might have been an utter thingy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care that he’s dead. Christ, what had happened? Could it have been the crap he’d put on the cigarette? Or had someone killed him? And why the hell had all the lights gone out? Magic might screw up technology something fierce, but my little light spell didn’t have the power to knock everything out. Hell, it had even stopped Bri’s torch from working! Damnit, I’m no detective! Need something blown up? Someone followed without them finding out? Then I’m your guy. But solving crimes? Damn, this was not turning out good. I could just leave him for Bri to clean up, wait for the paramedics or coroner to take him away. No. No matter how much I hated the bastard I couldn’t just let whoever did it get away clean. He might have been a drug-pushing, law-breaking, son-of-a-pregnant dog but he was still a Wizard. A member of the White Council. If we Wizards don’t look out for each other then we’re no better than the monsters drinking bloody mary’s next to me. “Bri, got any candles back there?” he nodded “good, get them out and set them up around the place. The lights might not come on and I need to be able to see what I’m doing.” He took out a few packets of plain white candles and started setting them up everywhere. The Faeries looked on with a mild detachment, as if the death of someone meant nothing to them. Which it didn’t really. Faeries, and the Sidhe in particular, are nothing like us. They don’t view human lives, or any but the lives of their own kin, as important. It makes dealing with them interesting as they’ll kill you without a second thought if they think it might be amusing. The Red’s looked on with amused looks on their too beautiful features, the death of a Wizard always brought a smile to face of those bastards. Robert was slightly concerned. The Whites are more human than other vamps and Robert seemed more human than most. The girls were utterly shocked, clinging onto me and Robert as if our touch was the only thing keeping them sane. Bri was more reserved, I figured he’d seen stuff like this before. Good thing too. I needed all the clear heads I could get. Bri had finished putting out the candles. They were scattered around the room, enough that everyone would be able to see clearly. Bri moved to get a lighter from his pocket. “We don’t have time for that. Bruci lo stoppino.” The wicks of the candles lit all around the room, the sudden flare up sounding quietly in the air. I stopped the spell of light in my hand and stepped away from the table. Tess still hung on my hand, pulling me back towards her with surprising strength. “Please…” Her voice was weak and shaky, tears welled in the corners of her brilliantly blue eyes. I’m a bit old fashioned, and crying girls, hell any girl, who needs my help will almost always receive it. But I had to put my chivalrous attitude behind me, a man was dead and no matter how much it pained me to do it, I had to leave her. I knelt down next to her, holding her hands in my own. “Tess, I have to go see what happened. I’ll be back as soon as I can, ok? Robby will take care of you while I’m gone.” I looked pointedly at Robert then, the look in my eyes brooking no dissension from him. He looked back and nodded, the look in his own storm grey eyes telling me he understood. “Ok…” said Tess, the tears now rolling freely down the smooth skin of her cheeks. With a great effort I stood, leaving the crying girl behind me. I headed over to Vince’s corpse. His skin was starting to take on a greyish tone and his eyes were glazed over. It wasn’t the worst death I’d seen, but I actually knew this one. He wasn’t just a name and a face, someone I could think of in a detached manner. He was someone who I could remember and whose voice I could still hear if I listened. I pushed all that away, focusing myself on what I had to do. I concentrated, focusing my mind on a point on my forehead just above and between my eyes. An itching pressure formed there, a sensation that I still hadn’t completely gotten used to. I opened my Third Eye. The Sight (or the Third Eye) is difficult to explain. When I look upon something with the Sight, I see the truth of something. I can see all the little metaphysical elements of whatever it is I look at, for instance I can look upon a house and see all the joy and pain and memories that have accumulated but I can also see each disparate component that makes it up, the bricks, the mortar, the wood. I also see where each bit came from, so I see the tree that the wood came from as well as the joist that it makes up. I can’t accurately describe it, it’s too different from anything you might have experienced. The sight also allows me to see magical energies and the essence of people and beings (it also lets me look past veils, which has come in handy once or twice). I see the demons that walk among us, and the angels. Unfortunately everything I see, from the sublime to the terrifying, stays with me. I can see everything I’ve ever seen through the Sight with almost no effort, and I see it as if I’m right back where I was when I experienced it. This gets a little wearing when you’ve seen some of the stuff I have. When I looked at Vince, I saw something that I wish I hadn’t. Even though he was dead and all that was left was his still smoking corpse, I could still see the imprints his life (and death) had left on him. On his arms, the track marks that ran up and down his arms were no longer just a collection of faded and not so faded scars, they were now a hundred mouths stretching the flesh of his arms as they tried to break free, the veins in his arms rippled and squirmed in delicious agony, patiently waiting for their next fix. His sightless eyes were darting here and there, like they were looking for a way out. Even though he lay deathly still on the floor, I could see his back arch and his body contort from equal amounts of pain and pleasure. I saw flashes of him curled into the foetal position, fingers scratching his skin, trying to dig his way out. While this was all very disturbing and another of those things I wish I could forget, it didn’t tell me how he died. Which was odd. Death usually leaves a big ass psychic stain on anything it touches, especially when it’s violent and unnatural, which Vince’s death had had in spades. I concentrated, looking for even a small piece of evidence (listen to me, talking like I’m on CSI all of a sudden) connected to his death. The blur of images from his corpse was distracting at best, but considering what I’ve seen, what I’ve done, I managed to focus past it. It sat on the stool Vince had occupied when I last saw him alive. A smoking corpse, a ruin of flesh and bone and spirit sat smoking at the bar, a still lit cigarette in its charred and contorted hand. I looked back at the blurry mix of ghost like images around Vince, finding it less disturbing. I looked closer and could see traces of charring on his flesh, hidden beneath his crawling skin and the demons of his addictions that crawled across him like rats. I moved away, holding the contents of my stomach back, barely. The smoke that rose from his metaphysical corpse wasn’t dissipating in the air like the smoke coming from his real corpse. It drifted and curled in the air around the bar stool where the crispy critter version of Vince sat. It was trapped, unable to leave. Trapped in a circle that I just noticed. This wasn’t the work of some demon or vamp that Vince had pissed off. This was the work of a Sorcerer, maybe even a full fledged Wizard. Crap.
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Post by Maverick55 on May 2, 2008 23:51:06 GMT
Someone had managed to not only erect a circle the instant before Vince started his corpse impression but also enhance his personal demons enough that they made even trying to find out what had happened painful. This guy was good, but also completely evil, like Anthony Hopkins as Lecter evil. Evil with a capital E. Whoever it was, they’d broken two of the most ruthlessly enforced of the seven laws. Thou shalt not kill by use of magic and Thou shalt not invade the mind of another. Even breaking one of them is a guaranteed death sentence, the Wardens may not be a cheery bunch but they take their work seriously. I rubbed my eyes, letting my third eye close before I threw up, or went completely nuts, whichever came first. I stood and raised my left hand in front of me, the left side of the body being the side that takes in energy, and extended my senses out towards the bar stool, hoping to get a better look at that circle. The circle was a fuzzy curtain that stopped my senses getting to the bar stool, the walls stopping my magic with the strength of steel. Not wanting to break the barrier just yet, I went back towards Robert, the Red’s marking my progress with a disturbingly hungry look. “We need a quick chat.” I grabbed him by his forearm and dragged him into the men’s room at the back of the bar. He shook of my grip and smoothed out the wrinkled silk of his shirt. “So what did you want to talk about? Or did you just bring me back here for a quickie?” He smiled that annoying smile, made slightly less annoying by the look of understanding in his grey eyes. “Don’t start that crap with me, not now. You’re going to help me. Keep the Red’s off my back while I try and find out what the hell happened here.” “And why should I do that? I should be siding with the Red’s if anything goes down, not you. You’re just meat. Kine. Food for vampires to feed off as we wish, even if you happen to be able to conjure all that wizardly shit.” He looked at me with a hunger and detachment that would have scared me if I didn’t know the truth. “You? Side with the Red’s? That’s a really bad joke, and you know it. The only reason you wanted me to sit with you was so I’d have your back if, or should I say when, they came after you. It wasn’t my sparkling wit or rakish looks that made you want to talk to me, it was my ‘wizardly shit’.” Robert was smiling slightly now, even if he did look a little dejected. “It benefited the both of us, they were looking at you like you were a steak. I couldn’t just ask you, you realise. If they saw that I would be even worse of than I was when you weren’t here.” “Heh. Steak. Sirloin or rump?” Robert just laughed at me, a bit hysterically but t served to break the tension that had gathered between us. “I take it you only came in here because it’s Sanctuary, a guy like you wouldn’t be seen dead anywhere that didn’t have at least a couple of the paparazzi around. Ok, while I figure this out I’ll need you to watch the Red’s. I can probably get one before the rest jump me, but I’ll need you to keep the others busy while I get ready to make vampire firelighters.” “What makes you so sure they’ll jump you? Just because they hate Wizards and want to drain your precious bodily fluids doesn’t mean they’ll kill you.” “Let’s just say that the Red’s dislike me more than most. Bit of a disagreement a few years back, don’t ask about what it is, or I’ll have to ask why they want your precious bodily fluids too.” Robert slinked over towards the door. “That’s fine by me boyo, I better get back out there before they do anything stupid.” “Good idea, and don’t call me boyo.” He flashed that damn smile again and left me in the dingy bathroom by myself. I went over to one of the stalls and spent a minute or two emptying my stomach. After seeing what that overly expensive sandwich looked like mostly digested I went over to the grimy sinks, looking over myself in the mirror as I cleaned my mouth. I’m not the best looking guy in the world, no long wavy locks or bashful baby blues. The sharp angles of my face and the wiry stubble gave me a harsh look that only got worse when you noticed the faint scar lines (the fading remnants of a trip through a plate glass window) that covered my face. My eyes were a brown that couldn’t really be considered similar to anything cute or nice like coffee or chocolate, and people rarely met them. Those in the know didn’t do that because of an annoying little effect called the Soulgaze (which is exactly what it sounds like) but others didn’t do it because I have a weird habit of rarely blinking, makes me seem creepy or something I suppose. I brushed a hand through my slightly-too-long-to-be-fuzzy-but-not-long-enough-to-be-called-curly hair, the dark red of my hair contrasting with my too pale skin, the result of too many nights and days spent indoors. I spat out some of the horrid taste from my mouth, and readied myself for what I had to do next. With a flourish I opened the bathroom door, my clichéd trenchcoat flapping in the small draft that came with the rapidly opened door. Robert stood next to the table with the girls, Tess looking small in Linda’s arms, carefully watching the Red’s as they sipped their Bloody Marys. I walked past him without the slightest look, moving straight to the corpse. I felt for the circle again, discerning its limits, and moved towards where I sensed the edge was. I took small piece of chalk from my pocket and drew a circle that contained both the circle around the bar stool and myself, once finished I bit the inside of my cheek, hard, and dabbed my finger in the resulting spot of blood. With a tiny portion of my Will concentrated at the end of said blood covered finger, I touched the chalk circle and invested some of my power into it, raising a magical barrier around where the encircled area. A small haze, like that you see coming of a hot road, rose into the air about an inch from the surface of the chalk. The Magical energy within the circle quietened slightly as the energies outside could no longer enter, making what I had to do next easier. I took a small white feather from inside a packet of spell materials I keep inside my voluminous pockets and whispered to it, my words laced with my Will, “Segua, pista, traccia.” As I finished speaking I broke the circle around the bar stool, freeing the contained energies. Hopefully the spell hadn’t degraded enough that it could no longer be traced. The feather spun in the air as the spell I had imbued it with latched onto the magic I had just released, until it finally drifted towards the wall of the circle I had erected. I smudged out the chalk line, freeing the magic within with an almost audible pop. The feather drifted across the room, passing close to Bri, the Red’s and the Sidhe at the back. Thank god it went nowhere near Robert or the girls. That would make my job even more difficult. The feather finally came to rest at a point in the middle of the room, hanging silently in the air as it twirled. Hmm, slightly odd. Either whoever had done this could maintain a kick-ass veil while also performing a rather nasty example of mind magic, or the trail had gone cold. Neither option was particularly appealing.
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Post by Maverick55 on May 22, 2008 22:53:47 GMT
The feather twisted in the air, my Magic keeping it afloat. I really could not figure out how whoever had done this had actually done it. There are only two real ways of doing a spell like this: evocation and thaumaturgy. Evocation is the kind of magic you usually see in films or read about in books, spells done on the fly, usually with a nice flashy effect or imposing stance. Evocation is all about the direct application of magical energies on objects that are close to you Thaumaturgy however is almost the exact opposite, it’s the indirect application of magical energies on objects you can’t see or don’t know where they are. That doesn’t really explain the mechanics of it though. Evocation is usually quick and dirty stuff, mainly because it’s what you use for combat magic. This doesn’t mean that it’s only simple spells you evocate, hell they’re usually more complex. You have to calculate the energy needed, predict the reactions of the other elements, figure in the existing conditions, dozens of little things that might throw the spell awry and all of this has to be done before whatever you’re casting at eats your face. Thaumaturgy is ritual magic, using representations of whatever you’re trying to affect and[b/] a little piece of that same whatever. Voodoo dolls are a great example of thaumaturgy, a representation of whoever you want to affect plus a little piece of that person, be that hair, blood or even just their Name. A name isn’t just the words that make up your name, it’s the specific way you say it. For instance, there are millions of John Smith’s in the world, but each one will say their name slightly differently. Unfortunately, peoples Names change, in that a person’s view of themselves changes as they go through life. This means that a Name changes all the time, so they only work for a short period of time. This doesn’t matter with Demons, Faeries and the other magical beasties that you come up against. But interesting magical theory aside, thaumaturgy is an indirect way of affecting your target. But the trail it leaves doesn’t just end in the middle of the room, it ends at whatever was used to represent the object in question. So thaumaturgy doesn’t fit what my tracking spell found. But evocation is, as I said, messy. It takes a skilled practitioner to evocate efficiently enough to not leak some sort of energy from the spell into the surroundings, I mean I can do it, but then again I rock (see, there’s that modesty again). And also evocation is usually straight lines, not wavy and wandering. Neither fit. I hate this detective stuff., give some good old fashioned mercenary work. Hell, I’d even take espionage, I can do that. I let the energy flowing to the feather ebb, dropping it slowly to the floor. I walked back to Robert, who was still standing guard by the girls. “Any luck?” he asked, eyes never leaving the three, amused looking Red’s. “Not a sausage, not even a cocktail one.” I rubbed at my forehead, a slight headache forming. Bloody headaches, whoever made ibuprofen must be making a mint off of me. I took the pack of ibuprofen from one of my voluminous pockets and swallowed two without water (a little trick from back in the day). “My spell didn’t reveal anything, the trail ended suddenly. It doesn’t look like any evocation I’ve ever seen and thaumaturgy doesn’t fit the bill either. I’ve hit a wall here.” Robert brushed a stray, stygian hair from in front of his eyes. “They’ve been looking over here a bit too much for my liking. Think they might try something soon.” “Damn, thought you Olde Worlde types abided by the whole sanctuary thing?” “We usually do, unless we can figure a way out of it. For instance, all they have to do is kill one White Court vampire, one Wizard and three ordinary, vanilla humans. Without witnesses, they can deny any charge made against them by our respective ruling bodies.” I looked at him quizzically. “Thought about this huh?” “They’re predators, just like me. It’s not too hard to figure out what they’d do.” I thought about that for a while, everything that had happened had made me almost forget that I’d allied myself with a cold-blooded killer who was feeding on the very souls of the two girls I was trying to protect with this alliance. I pushed that all aside; I had more important things to worry about then my sidekick’s demonic nature. “You forgot two very important things Robert. They also have to kill two Faeries, Sidhe no less.” He shrugged. “Not too hard if you’re prepared, all you need is a nice amount of iron. For instance the iron in the bullets of those Mac 10’s they’re sporting underneath their finely cut suits. They might even be able to get them to forget all about their breaking of the Accords, giving them two young, corruptible mortals might be incentive enough for them to leave.” “Can’t fault that logic, might be an idea to feel things out a little. Hold the fort here, I’m going to ask our Fae friends a few questions.”
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Post by Maverick55 on Jul 23, 2008 22:55:11 GMT
Before Robert could say anything to change my mind, I sauntered (yes, sauntered. I was in that kind of a mood) over towards their table. I took my time, observing the two of them as I walked over. I had a quick look at all the obvious stuff, perfect skin, lustrous and beautiful hair, perky…erm, well I passed over all of that quickly and without any lingering stares to look at how they had placed themselves in the room, how they were acting and most importantly; did they have any large, sharp objects that I should be aware of? Yes, they might be pretty damn high on the can-kick-your-ass scale, but I could probably hold my own until I managed to run away (I’d be using the phrase ‘tactically retreated’ if I ever had the chance to tell this story to a good looking woman or two). I slowed to a stop a respectful distance from the table, and even with my ‘eye-catching’ style of dress (a long black trenchcoat over a T shirt declaring “Han Shot First” and some rather worn jeans, the lazy chic clashing with the two silver devices that crawled across my hands and wrists and the triplet of necklaces hung around my neck that made me look on the wrong side of the new age-y line) I didn’t even rate a dismissive glance. On any other night I might feel put out. I stepped forward and pulled out one of the spare chairs, spinning it round so I sat with the back of the chair against my chest, and set myself down close enough to both of them to feel the energy coming off of them, a low thrum if power calling to parts of my anatomy that I preferred to remain quiet, unless I’d had a few drinks beforehand (I do have some standards). I half closed my eyes and raised my left hand slightly; I muttered a phrase of Italian and sent a hazy wave of my Magic through my outstretched hand. I’m not like most other Wizards. I don’t like the whole flashy, gigantic displays of power used like a battering ram. I prefer the more subtle stuff. Instead of nigh-indestructible shields to protect me from things, I redirect the energies focused on me away. Instead of lances of fire and fists of stone, I used illusions and disruptions to defeat my foes (although I’m not opposed to the occasional lightning bolt to smite the bad guys every now and again). I was a Wizard of Air and Water, using the principles of these two intrinsic elements to channel and manipulate the energies that flowed from me. I’m telling you this so you can understand how odd the spell I used when I sat next to the two Sidhe is. When you’re taught how to use Magic, the teachers usually prescribe to the old school of ‘unstoppable force meet immovable object’. Force against force. Sure, they do it in various and complex manners, but they still believe that defence is equal to resistance, that the strength of Earth and the power of Fire are the best ways to overcome any obstacle. I come from a slightly different school of teaching. That the fluidity and malleability of Water and Air are a better way to defeat whatever stands in your way. Instead of overpowering or withstanding the force against you, pass through it, pass around it and come away unchanged. The wave of energy I sent rolling down my arm and through my splayed fingers wasn’t a simple shield to stop the seductive energies coming off of the Sidhe. Instead, it subtly changed the flow of energy around me, bending the Glamour away from myself, altering it until I sat in a still pocket within the quietly lapping tide of magic they naturally gave off. That caught their attention. The pale blue one, the one who looked like the ultimate expression of the phrase ‘jail bait’, looked me up and down with an uncomfortably sexual hunger. All lingering stares in all the right places that promised acts you only heard about in magazines off the top shelf. Her friend just stuck that golden eyed gaze on me, staring me right in the eyes. Not many people would do that to a wizard, look them in the eye. Thanks to an effect called a Soulgaze people who knew about us tended to look away if they ever caught our eyes direct. Of course that only worked when you had a soul to look upon. The Sidhe were utterly inhuman, despite their looks. They had nothing like a soul within their perfectly sculpted forms, just a cunning intellect and a cruelty unmatched by almost anything you’re ever likely to meet this side of the Nevernever. “Interesting trick Wizard. Not many of your ilk can accomplish such a subtle working at such a young age.” Her voice was like honey over silk, I could feel the power in it ripple outwards, refracting away when it hit the field I had put up. “Such talent in one so young. I wonder if his skill is confined to his Magic, or if it extends into other activities…” That was the blue one. While the other Sidhe was all slow, classy seduction, this one was in-your-face, straight-up sex on legs. Her voice was sweet and hot and dangerous, liquid chocolate coating razor blades. I put a little more power into the ward I was holding. These girls were too dangerous to be taking chances with, getting seduced by such as these would not end happily. “While I enjoy the complements and subtle innuendos as much as the next guy, knock it off. I don’t have time to play the usual games the Sidhe enjoy.” The younger looking of the pair cut the sex kitten act, getting rid of the coy posing and secret smile and replacing them with an angry glint in her silver eyes and an imperious tilt to her dreadlocked head. The other one, the stunner in green, half lidded her eyes in amusement, the accompanying laugh stretched her dress in interesting ways. “Mmm, I like a man who isn’t easily distracted. Makes the chase all the more fun.” The banter was getting a little distracting now, not even swanky Magic energy fields can block the allure of beautiful women. I sat there for a second, slightly uncomfortable with their hungry gazes, before I extended my hand in greeting. “It seems impolite of me to sit here without telling you who I am. The name’s Will Ash.” The red haired goddess in front of me took my hand in dainty gesture, one containing subtle rubbing that made it far too intimate for two strangers to be sharing, and spoke in that intoxicating voice “I am Leah, of the Court of the Winter Sidhe. It is a pleasure to meet you William Ash.” Her voice wrapped around the syllables of my name in a fashion I wouldn’t mind hearing more often. The blue Fae looked at me with a far colder version of her stare, leaving me thinking of acts that were usually ended in the use of police tape. “My name is Mae, also of the Winter Court. And, mortal, I would be pleased if you left this table. Now” The ice in her voice left me no illusion that she wouldn’t also find pleasure in removing me from the table, most likely without all of my anatomy still attached.
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Post by Maverick55 on Aug 20, 2008 21:44:51 GMT
The ice in her voice left me no illusion that she wouldn’t also find pleasure in removing me from the table, most likely without all of my anatomy still attached. Leah looked across at her companion, a look that scared the hell out of me and I wasn’t even on the receiving end of it. Mae quickly stopped the pregnant dog act and settled into her chair, she covered her fear by playing with her dreadlocks, changing the colours to more vibrant shades of blue and green. The Glamour that gave her the blue skin tone faded as she fiddled with her hair, giving her skin similar to Leah’s and reflecting the candlelight in intriguing fashions. I took my eyes off of her, focusing on the matter at hand rather than the play of light over her smooth, supple skin. “As much as I like having two beautiful members of the Unseelie in the same pub as I am, what exactly are you doing here? Isn’t this place a little rundown and, well, mortal for two of the Sidhe to be waiting around in? I thought you preferred your own little Nevernever hangouts to dingy, London pubs.” The two Sidhe looked at me, a feline curiosity in their eyes. “Wizard, if we conducted all of our business out of our homes, our…opponents would quickly realise who we were, and that would ruin the game entirely. And we Sidhe do so love intrigue, almost as much as your incubus friend and his kind.” Leah spoke in a tone that suggested I should already know what she was talking of. “Anyway, I like the ambience” Mae chimed in, still changing the colour of her hair (now a cascade of whites and greys). Well, one side benefit of having to interrogate two of the Sidhe, they couldn’t lie. Although I had expected them to be slightly more circular in their answers, methinks they might have some other agenda if they’re being this honest. That may or may not be a good thing, considering the agendas of the Fae sometimes involve eternal suffering and/or servitude. Mae sensed my unease and the pressure of the seduction whammy she was projecting increased twofold, struggling against the refractive shield of my ward. I tapped into some of the fear that was pooling in my stomach and added the power of that emotion to my shield. The sudden increase in energy expanded the still area around me by another foot, it also annoyed Mae. She screwed up her face into a pouting frown that was at once both cute and terrifying. Nothing like a Sidhe for giving out mixed signals. “While ticking you off might just be the most fun I’ve had today, I really don’t have time for your little evil-teen-seductress-act. So back off girlie before I use some of the ‘skill’ you seem so interested in on you, and it won’t be the nice kind of skill, it’ll involve sharp pointy things and high voltage shocks that’ll muck up those pretty dreads beyond even your ability to repair.” To emphasize my point I curled my fingers inward and uttered “Arco corrente” Small filaments of electricity sparked between my fingers, a small exertion of power through the devices on my wrists stopped me from shocking myself and ruining the tough guy act with spasms and possible loss of bladder control. Mae stared at the cerulean arcs with a feral look in her cat like eyes, a predatory gleam that scared the living daylights out of me. It was utterly inhuman and made me feel like a gazelle under the watchful gaze of a lion, a meal in all but fact. I felt my shield waver, the psychic pressure from Mae buckling the refractive energies ever inwards. “Aumenti tensione” the words came from my lips in a laboured grunt, the words garbled and gruff but the inner meaning still clear in my pressured mind. I stretched my arm out quickly, my fingertips coming within touching distance to Mae’s face before she could react. The increased energy of the electricity I had called up released itself, finding the quickest way to earth. Unfortunately for my Unseelie counterpart, that path happened to be right through her cute little button nose. The arc closed with a snap. The voltage wasn’t enough to harm her (nothing short of a full blown lightning strike would do if it came to it) but it was enough to distract her and sending her jumping back slightly. A small patch of reddened flesh was now marring that cute nose, and the smoke rising from it gave her an almost comical look. Of course, the comedy was diminished slightly by the murderous look in her eyes. I pushed myself back, knocking the chair over as I stood up, and raised my arms to my chest in readiness for the coming attack. I needn’t have worried. Mae was being held back by her companion, Leah. She had Mae by the wrist, one pale, luminous hand holding the younger looking Fae in a steely grip. It took me a little while, but I noticed that Leah’s fingernails had grown into shining talons and were buried deeply in her cohort’s arm. I looked behind me quickly, checking what the others were doing. Robert, Tess and Linda were still sitting in the corner, concerned at what was happening but never really taking their gaze off of the Red’s. Bri was at the bar still, holding his shotgun in such a way to cover both the Red’s and the Sidhe. The Red’s, of course, were just watching Robert and the girls. And Vince lay smoking on the floor, hey, at least I can count on him to be consistent. I cleared my throat, more to make sure I was still capable of speech than anything else, and said in a low and (hopefully) menacing tone “As much as I love it, I think we’ve had enough small talk. So sit down and at least pretend to act civil.” I waited till Leah had pulled the still angry Mae back into her seat before picking mine up from the floor. “Now, while I respect the fact that either one of you could probably kill me quite easily, I really can’t be arsed to put up with your posturing. So I’m going to ask you one thing. What are you going to do when the Red’s get bored of waiting?” Leah made a show of pulling her talons from Mae’s arm, licking the blood from their razor edges and then drumming them on the table top. Mae blew gently at her arm, closing the wounds, and rested her chin sulkily on her hand. “Well, Wizard, that is entirely up to you. Listen to my offer and decide if what it will cost you is worth our non-interference when the members of the Red Court you are so concerned about attack.” She continued tapping those talons on the table, gouging small holes out of the wood. I could easily imagine them gouging holes out of my neck.
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