Con Spells Cloaked
Supreme Aug:Pre+3 Man+2 dur 12hrs;Skill Mastery Socialize+2 Persuasion+4 dur 12 hrs
(2004) Consilium - Venus in Converse
41902
THREADID
177
POSTS
101 - 110
DISPLAYED
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Star brought up cabals. Was this a casting call? Trust will be hard to earn. We'll suspect each other from the jump. Still, the worse he could say is no...
Abacus immediately thought of Shodan. Again...the vacuum. The Think Tank was a shot in the dark with no real basis outside of a small cluster of--and he couldn't believe he was saying this--nerds. We're here because we're smart and we figure things out! He could the same amount of work alone in the Athenaeum, maybe even more so, given his amateur grasp of Mind. Conglomerations like that don't really work without strong organizational backing and when your cabal was made of mostly Apostates with only a Path to their name, it did not amount to much.
He almost wished they had a Herald. Then he realized delineating responsibilities that he could just do himself was much simpler. He made eyes at Star. Watchful, not reading. "Cabals, to me, are diamonds in the rough, especially in these times. Fortune's favor."
But West Sacramento? What was so important about West Sacramento? He made a mental note to research that further. There were plenty of Mages present who had been here longer than him. Cite your sources...
The Necromancer, this Igor, imposed a towering presence, like a church steeple. It seemed the Silver Ladder was finally beginning to make themselves known. The fact that he and Naga recognized each other made this all the more salient. Will their Programme make their way intohistheir governance? That was yet to be seen. Naga seemed to be a pretty cut-and-dry traditionalist with a clear grasp of reason.
But Igor remained a mystery. For now. Maybe they could get to know each other. Maybe Abacus could see the Wisdom underneath those watery eyes and learn. "Magus Igor. Welcome to the Consillium of Sacramento. I, Abacus, Scion of the Watchtower of the Lunargent Thorn, do hereby acknowledge your presence here. I am sure Magus Campanella would like to exchange words with you, as he shares your Path. May you find your place here among the Wise."
"Make yourself at home."
Some anger. Blinking. No more leans, and fuck. All the Things.
See, this is why she didn't want in on that hotseat
besides all of her other reasons
Nope. Not going to offer up those thoughtswarlocks
And, we have a new person.
Briar Rose looks, up and up and up. It might be mean, but dude looks like an Igor. She studies him, frowning when he admits his Order affiliation, which. Merr. Théarchs aren't any fun. But he's interesting too look at. She wonders how his musculature would look like, free off coverings...
Her head's back in her hand, as she thinks of charcoals and wonders, if the firstbird will get it that she's gonna be Councillor, even with an aside.
This Consilium was a total fucking mess. The Council looked to consist of the Obrimos martyring himself, the Mastigos and Thrysus having a dick measuring contest, and the Moros seemed like he had better things to do. Ironically, the Acanthus Councilor appeared to be the most stable one.
Naga could feel a headache desiring to manifest as she wracked her brain to find what crime she must have committed, what offense she must have made against the Deacon of Los Angeles, to be exiled to this clown show.
Her own offer to help with patrols had also been completely ignored. That was annoying.
The pipe-smoking giant was at least a welcome distraction. What was this? Another Théarch? Had the Order sent her some back up? He acted as if he he knew her. Curious. She gave the new Necromancer a nod of greeting.
The Warlock idly wondered if the west side of town was rich in Hallows.
It was like witnessing a game of Magical Guess Who?, where the clues had been purposefully mixed up to sow the maximum confusion among the onlookers.
The Mastigos was as self-righteous as a Theurge, the Shaman had risen from his humble origins as the village idiot to that of impromptu Statesman and Military strategist. More measured and careful in his elocution than a Warlock. Figures.
The Acanthus was quieter than the corpse of a Moros. As for the Leaden Coin... well, it looked like they had found a worthy representative - other than Campanella - that's it. Surely he looked the part.
As far as his path was concerned, though. Now that was where the real mess began. They were the Path of Felons, apparently. Representing of 100% of the local outlaws. A record.
And he was the worst of all.
He springs from his seat, and with a swift movement he joins the rest of the Mighty.
Entering the side thread
The new giant is eyed briefly before a flick of Tyche's gaze lands on Campanella as the former Hierarch bluntly declines the invitation to join the Council. Whether that was out of the 'need for perspective' he spoke of or a... distaste for the Council's showing was still unknown, but noting the slight twist of the man's lips, Tyche's money was on the latter.
Star's offer of fruit was met with slight puzzlement at the randomness of the gesture, but then a half-smile and a shrug.
Fuck it.
Retrieving the pear with a mouthed word of 'Thanks', the Enchanter settled in her chair. Her smile couldn't help but widen as Pheonyx showed her true passion for her work, bluntly mincing Pixel's interpretation of her duties as a hobby. Then Pheonyx calls the Obrimos to a side meeting and Tyche looks to Star, rising her eyebrows. Command seemed to suit the firebird. Which meant Star's quick deflection of the title may not have been as hasty as the rest of the Consilium believed.
In lieu of a Councilor for the Moros, Abacus steps up and welcomes the man, recognizing him while certain other members of the Councilors wrestled and debated. Some needs were met at least.
Tyche would remain through this frustrating gathering. Duty demanded it. Emissaries had to be well informed to be effective. And that was what Tyche aimed to do. She drinks and she knows things.
In lieu of wine (a la Tyrion?), at least now she had a snack.
Well there’s a big fella. Anima gives the giant his ear as the man introduces himself, it’s hard not to notice the mountain that just walked in.
At Igor’s question, the doctor’s gaze turns towards Campanella…
The man who just shunned his path’s seat on the council. It’s like the longer you live in Sacramento the crazier you become, just giving up a voice to the whims of others. Silly silencing of yourself. Fuck it, I don’t wanna vote today, that’s how you end up watering plants with Gatorade. Just because you lose a duel you want to mope, how silly, might doesn’t make right, it just means you need to check your hubris at the door.
It’s like Aurora’s display of apathy for months on end, then SNAP, the horse hair breaks. Anima is glad to let that Sword fall. Better to be a fallen king than a false one, and if he retains his seat, it will be with the knowledge it was through the wisdom of the Wilds, not the apathy of weary.
Still, Aurora flairs like a borealis. Too bad she doesn’t see the obvious play. Pixel is the least Libertine Anima’s ever met. Maybe he fancies himself a puppet master, or perhaps he thinks to win the seat of Hierarch for himself, no matter. It’s all a prank, a hoax, the truth was hiding in the barn the whole time. But it smells like shit and the shaman got a good whiff. He doesn’t blame her for her frustration though, for months Consilium’s been a car driven by Stevie Wonder. Soon as councilors council in public, it’s Halloween in Noho. He acknowledges her outburst but says nothing.
And so the Mighty move like mice when the lights have flicked on, so many sinners brought to the light. They'll learn soon enough, their pack is composed of people, even as individuals fall, new ones will arrive to take their place, but to leave their voice unheard is to destroy their very institution.
Cabals are communities, or Aladdin, whatever, and Abacus makes a show of his recognizing the giant, without so much as a question. These are not the Seers You’re Looking For, a questioning look flicked to Naga and then Pixel, but nothing further. Not the Shaman’s concern, it’s Abacus’s now.
Nothing doing while a quarter of their number is on a recess, but to wait. The Shaman leans over, picking up his briefcase. He pops it open, removes an orange, and returns the attache to the floor. Maybe the milineals are right. #Consiliumneedssnacks
After all, a predator with an empty stomach is more prone to bite.
Pixel thinks about taking a second to correct that he was objecting to Anima volunteering him for patrols, but that felt wrong with the Obrimos now occupied. Instead he turns his attention to Aurora and Briar Rose .
"Would the Shamans like to take a second as well?"
And with that he looks up the the giant in the room.
"Campanella is the only other Moros in the city if he doesn't mind the company. Apparently you know your fellow Ladder as well. Where you belong is for you to decide."
This isn’t a council meeting, it is a showdown. Stares like bullets from the final scene from “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly”. Who will be left with loaded guns and who will be digging the graves?
Igor’s words faded and he froze - dead cold - grin and packed pipe. Hyper focusing on the subtext and body language: this is the very moment Moros Ladders relish, the transitions and transformations of power. As Donald Black states, “Social time is the dynamic dimension of social space…The fundamental cause of conflict is the movement of social time” (Moral Time, p. 4), and social space: horizontal, vertical, corporate, cultural, or normative. Which variables are moving?
As the blond tigress' fierce visage softened for the Arrow, Igors did as well, and reciprocated the welcome with a warm smile and soundless mouthed “Thank you.” Patience. Wait till the carnage is over. No need to step in shit... just yet.
The Ugula Dragonis Golden Key!! Is it not clear to everyone else, her: poise, presence, and posture? She is a living weapon, precise and dangerous, especially if she guards the region without a battle’! Who the hell would want to get in her way? Igor follows the cold glare: A middle manager and a kid… Conclusion: either these two were fools or extremely powerful. Mental Note: Contact her for ‘self-defense’ classes. What a valuable experience and even more valuable ally!!
Ah! Abacus, at least someone had some sense! “Magus Abacus. I, Magus Igor, Necromancer of the Watchtower of the Lead Coin thank you for your hospitality and recognition. I look forward to working with the other…” bemusedly looking askance “... Wise. Excuse me. I should follow through with your referral.” Note: Abacus - Potential Ally?
Igor needed to talk to Magus Naga, he desperately needed a lawyer and was told she was the best, but tradition must be adhered to. If this concilium were to be reformed, The Silver Ladder must be a good example even at the cost of personal troubles. Igor extends a smile, his business card, and handshake, “Magus Campanella. I am Magus Igor from Atlanta’s Concilium requesting recognition as A Necromancer of the Watchtower of the Lead Coin.” His hands were cold but soft, “It's good to meet you, Sir, and we must talk but formalities first. Please, guide me to the Hierarch of this Consilium.” I need to know this Consilium’s hierarchy.
Campanella is unable to keep his eyes off of the giant Igor CandidesDream
He notices the sudden swirl of movement at a mental distance.
And then the newcomer is looming over him.
"Always a pleasure to meet someone on the Path, Magus Igor. Please take a seat and join us. I believe you have Recognition - Councillor Abacus has just granted it. Unfortunately there is no Councillor for our Path and I am unable to take on such duty at the present time. We also currently lack a Hierarch. But if you require some form of welcome, then I am happy to extend a welcome to you, my colleague of the Vox Draconis."
He smiled as he exchanged a handshake, and a business card of his own, with Igor. Like his fellow Moros, Campanella's hands were soft; but whereas Igor's hands were cold, Campanella's hands were warm.
"You have arrived at an interesting time and I'm afraid we don't have many formalities to cover. The Council is newly established and in the process of clearing up old matters. I am the former Hierarch."
He added the last in a depreciating manner as he checked Igor's card before sliding it into a pocket.
Campanella allowed himself a quick glance at the giant's grim face - as much to gauge the newcomer's reaction as anything else.
Igor’s acknowledgement of Magus Naga’s nod begins as a crows feet smile: withering and worried. God, my kids. ...before sacrificing a small polite wave, “Magus Naga?” Igor digs into his open black duffle bag, exhumes a charcoal folder, and hands it to the beautiful Indian-American woman, “Hi. I heard you were a lawyer who adopts…” a dying smile, “... sunk cases. I can pay.” The folder contains her stapled business card, a poorly pixelated photograph, a few papers containing mundane lawyer’y details, and photographs of Igor’s four children. The folder smells funky as if marinating in an wet gym sock, cooked in the sun under the magnifying glass of a car window. Igor turns towards Magus Campanella.
A penetrating gaze and a steel grey suit, despite all the brilliant gemstones and gleaming mineral veins of Stygia, most Moros wear muted colors; Magus Campanella seems to be no exception. Perhaps there was some metaphysical gravity associated with each tower inherent even in the mundane?
At the sound of ‘I am the former Hierarch’, Igor’s stomach lurches like frightened horses going wilder! Mental note: Significant movement of Vertical distance in Social Geometry (social space). Someone falls while another may rise. What type of conflict will this produce? Horse shit. And he’d already stepped in it.“A new Council. How does or will this council select their leadership? Old matters don't seem to lie still. What on earth is going on?” A weak consilium is far more dangerous than no consilium; however, it may be easier to develop to a strong consilium from a weak one than none at all.
Igor wincing-worms into the pews but not without a great effort at appearing to do so with casual ease. This Concilium is an almost perfect replica of Westminster Abbey, built in the mid 1800s, and the size of people then were smaller - subsequently the pews, too. They moan in protest.
The young man in jeans and a camo jacket cites Magus Cambenellas as the sole Moros. In surprise, puddles become lakes. “There are no other Moros?” One Arrow and One Moros!? “How affected is Sacramento from the Twilight? My experience with ephemera may be relevant and perhaps impactful.” Magus Campella must be a heavy hitter and overworked. Perhaps this may be why he refuses the Councillor seat. Responsibility Triage. Will I, too, not be able to attend to personal matters: saving my children, veteran’s halfway houses, wrestling, or cryptopoly? There is great need in Sacramento. Christ, there was always a need.“Magus Campanella, I am an instrument. Use me.”