Consilium V
Consilium V
11736
THREADID
133
POSTS
21 - 30
DISPLAYED
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Ariadne laughs lightly. "As long as you don't have any spells hidden from view right now then yes you are. I should have been cleared in my announcement. A mage caused some trouble last Consilium. She isn't with us anymore, left on her own accord." She steps to the side and motions for him to join the mingling crowd. "Come in, if you belong to an Order I can point you towards the right person."
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She isn't with us anymore... Death? Executed? Was the sentence so heavy? ... left on her own accord.
Mike seems shocked for a second, but relaxes as soon as the Herald continues. He follows her further into the Circle. 'Thank you Ariadne. I am an Arrow.' He smiles to the woman, Now hope everybody is just as friendly.
And proudly he looks around, searching for a possible Magister. He sees some nice guys, but none really seemed to have the aura of authority he expected. Perhaps a woman? Ladies have always been stronger than others might think.
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West disappears, returning a short time later in faded jeans and a collared polo-style shirt. The shirts tucked in, in an attempt to be "etiquette-y" but only manages to look as silly as a tucked in t-shirt can: only Ricky Martin can pull that off.
The shirt itself has a star on the breast, and words circling it: Twisted Texas Paintball
Maybe he was better off with the robe.
'Oh.' Mike is a little surprised, but quickly recovers, I'm the last guy in this building to speak out any prejudices. So he adds: 'Then I go meet the Magister.' He gives a thankful smile. 'Your help is very much appreciated, thanks again, Herald.' You can never be too polite on your first day, can you?
After a nod he makes his way over to West. For a moment he just saw himself walk, give the man a pat on the back, and laugh while asking how he's been doing. But then he realizes again this was the Magister. So instead he bows shortly: 'Magister West?'
"Hand shakes are fine," West said, grimacing. "You say Magister, and I still turn around to look for Mag... Undrichmann. Save the bows for the Hierarch."
Never mind that Undrichmann had been gone over two years and this new boot probably had no idea who he was.
"Or the Curator."
And people say I don't have a sense of humor.
West's eyes take in Mike's athletic body before returning to the other man's face. "I take it you're an Arrow?"
Mike nods with a smile on his face. Inside joke or completely lost? I hope the first.
And I take that as a compliment, 'Yes,' speaking of handshakes...he takes his right glove off and extends his hand, 'Mike Tamwood, Arrow on the Path of Doom.'
It was too early to decide if he was pleased to meet this Magister.
"Oh? Good stuff. Have you met Joshua Morris?" West asked, nodding. There was so much death in war, that it was nice knowing a new boot wasn't going to shit on himself when killing happened. That, and Matter was really useful; one of those things that you didn't really appreciate until some got thrown at you.
West doesn't hide his curiosity at the glove, taking a moment to look at the hand.
'Uhm no... he's the leading Necromancer in Sacramento?' Mike asks back, he didn't hear people use the word necromancer a lot, but he liked it, so why not?
The one ungloved hand shows a dark brown tattoo, but since West is looking at it Mike says: 'Yeah, it's just henna. I'm figuring out if I want something more permanent, and how it should look.' Not sure about this one, it seems so... so obsessed. And it's clearly strange enough to be needed to stay hidden from sleepers, I'm afraid.
'Besides that, I like gloves, and these really fitted my outfit.' He smiles like a smart ass... until he realizes he better couldn't have said that. Talking about outfits brings his feminine side closer to the surface, which wasn't his favorite side when he met his new Magister for the first time.
After spending five years with Kai who affected a different gi or suit for every day of the week, gloves were so tame.
At least he covered up the tattoo.
"You'll regret putting it somewhere so visible," West offered.
God knows he'd seen enough of his troop get battalion or regiment ink.
"And, yeah, Morris is the top Necromancer."
After a moment, he added, "So what do you do? Like, specialties."
'Yeah, figured that out 10 seconds ago.' Mike scratches his head and offers a meek smile in return. He quickly puts his glove back on.
Then his eyes quickly overlook the people inside, searching for a Morris the Moros kind of person. I guess people are less obvious that I first imagined... like, they're not walking around with tattoo's of their favorite Arcanum.
But after the moment, Mike looks more happy when the subject changes: 'Uhm... it's quite special I live... with a ghost.' He seems a bit unsure to tell this. He hadn't thought about it yet, whether he should tell it directly or not. 'Next to that I've trained some healing abilities. You know, the dead can be useful, and my walls of shadow are nice... but a little bit life around me can do good too.'
Then he narrows his eyes a bit, 'Or did you mean more fighting specific things?' After all, it was the Magister in front of him.
"Oh, yeah?"
The question is asked in the same tone West would have used if Mike had just announced he had an extra toe on one foot.
Well, not really. He'd probably be curious enough to ask to see the extra toe.
West saw it much as he saw Animus' Spirit-dog, something he just didn't get. While there had been one point he'd wondered if there were any tactical application, he'd never heard or seen Animus apply it.
"Yeah, sure, I guess. Just so we all know what we all can do. I'm handy with small arms."
Mike nods with a slightly amused smile, this was definitely not what he expected. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing though, if you can have a normal conversation with your leader the mood was soon better.
'Well, I've always been the street fighter type, knocking people out bare hand...' He clenched his fists and holds them just above his waist, still visualizing the boxing skills but not forming a threat. 'Although brass knuckles are always a good addition.' Especially magically enhanced brass knuckles.
'But eh... are there many Arrows in Sacramento?' He looks around shortly, not seeing a lot of mages at all.
"Four others?" West replied, with a slight question mark on the end. He had the decency to look slightly embarrassed at his noncommittal answer, trying to disguise it by looking at the new arrivals.
"Animus, Joshua... Brent... and Technique," he clarified.
Two he'd only met once before.
Months ago. Did we break Sacramento's curse on the Awakened?
West's eyes moved back and forth from Mike to others, clearly running low on 'small talk'.
Mike only nods. Only four? Add me, Stevie, and the dogs... I believe I just doubled the Arrow's attack force.
'Perhaps you can show me who Joshua Morris is?'
He looks around again, 'Or are we beginning soon?'
West gestures towards the door.
"That's Joshua," he said, mighty necessarily.
Looking around, he considered Mike's question, watching to see if Karen reacted to the strangers.
...
"Hey, let's go talk to Joshua..."
Where's Karen's BFF?
'Thanks West,' Mike says with a short smile.
With his eyes shifting through the room he tries to see what West was thinking about.
He want's to go to Joshua together? A quick glance, 'My idea.' And he does a step away from West, towards the the 'top necromancer'.
Merge Back Into Main
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"Not a problem. The man your looking for is right over there." Ariadne points to where West had been..and then to where West was. "Ah there, he changed." She looks at the shirt for a moment and shrugs. "Magister West." Ariadne adds, almost forgetting.
Clean-up is done.
If new conversations start, feel free to use the 'Consilium' prefix for a new thread. If, by some freak accident of nature, I forgot to move a post (Oh noes!) that is part of a conversation, please send a PM, and I'll move it into the right thread. This thread will still be used for the general business that involves everyone.
You may participate in this thread, as well as one of the small conversations. In other words, don't try to be in 4 places at once, this is still only a single event.
***Doors will be closing in roughly 48 hours. Get'em in ladies and gents***
***Karen***
One of the more recently-arrived members of the Consilium arrives, and stops outside the door. She turns back to the man accompanying her (who some might recognize as Dart), and whispers a few words to him.
Exchanging nods, She turns back towards the building, appraising it, while Dart starts to move away. A few moments later, she enters the structure, her pose assertive, body language confident. She wasn't a political animal; Not exactly. But this was a place of comfort, even with so few faces she knew.
For the moment, she weighs her options, wondering who to approach first. Her cool, professional eyes scan the tables, looking for signs of where she might sit. There are none. So instead she simply takes a few steps inside.
***Henry Pym***
***1.5 hours ago***
Henry paced through his Sanctum, his hands busily weaving a basic tie knot. The suit was basic, worn from use in more than one place. As he tied and and pulled and adjusted, he paced close to his phone. From the device's speaker Janet's voice came, serious. They couldn't meet just now, but that didn't stop them from being each other's backup.
"So, any expected results for today?", she was asking.
"Of course not. Don't be ridiculous." A lie.
She didn't like that answer. "Good luck with that," she replied. She sounded aggressive, even a little threatening. Henry knew she had good intentions behind it however. The woman continued, offering in that smartass way of hers, "Here's a thought : Why don't you try going as yourself? Y'know, you might actually make a real friend that way."
"Myself? Hrn." He thought it through. "I'll think about it."
"Do more than think about it," she said. It wasn't a suggestion.
More silence. Then a quiet, resigned sigh. "Fine. Have it your way." He looked at his watch. "Have to get going. Talk later."
"Later, H." There wasn't a click to be heard as she closed the line without waiting for a response.
Finishing the knot in his tie, Henry walked to the bathroom, and stood in front of the mirror. Myself.
***NOW***
He stood in front of the door for a few seconds, and took a deep, calming breath. An outside observer could think the Epopt was nervous. That same outside observer would also be free to believe the nerves were a lie, a simulation of such. In short, there were many layers to whatever it was that ran through Henry's head. Or maybe, just maybe, for once, there wasn't a single layer, except the truth.
The Guardian nervously smoothed his tie one final time, and stepped through the front door. His eyes scanned the Mages present, not in analysis, but in simple recognition. Joshua, Ariadne, Triquetra, Rosh, Chief; Each of them gets a nod, a simple gesture devoid of the usual hidden signals or soul-baring stares. Or maybe the signals are just hidden deeper.
For now, he doesn't approach anyone, content to be the chaperon. Even without the cover of his spells, he might as well be invisible. Just the way it ought to be.
***Doors will be closing in roughly 48 hours. Get'em in ladies and gents***
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Halden
Striking Looks •• (handsome eyes and a charming smile)
A relatively young man dressed in a smart suit, hair combed just right and wearing his signature disabling smile walks in, saying "Hello"s to the pretty ladies still crowding the entrance before making his way over towards the Epopt.
Halden
Jingo Quinn
An older man enters the Circle of Creation not long after. Not as talkative, he seems to move off to the side to observe the congregation, his head scanning from spelled person to spelled person before deciding to take a seat near the Curator and starting some small talk with her.
Jingo Quinn
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Joshua returns Henry's nod as he finishes his talk with Technique, settling himself against the door jamb and looking outside. "Evening, Henry." He feels tense and on edge: too many new faces here tonight. New blood, good, sure; Sacramento was in need of it. But to be inviting all of these strangers into the Circle... it was too easy to allow a wolf into the fold that way. Too easy...
Any thoughts on that, or any other subject for that matter, are kept silent, as Henry is approached by one of these new arrivals. Joshua sets himself into Observer mode, instead.
Henry answers Joshua's greeting. "Joshua. Eyes open", he tells the Sentinel. It could be a directive, or a well-wish. Considering the tone he offers it with, it might also be a good omelet recipe, or a remark about the nice weather. The Guardian's head is going through the possibilities of the meeting, and coming up with some unfavorable results. Someone had been busy putting pieces into place.
The dark thoughts are set aside, however, when he notices the stranger approaching him, and the Sentinel taking a half-step back. He doesn't mask his appraisal of the man. After all, that's not who he was today. Right? The Epopt's eyes go over the man once more, head to toe, toe to head, before he offers his hand to shake. "Don't think we've been introduced," he remarks. His name isn't offered. Not off the bat.
The doors are now closed to new arrivals. Feel free to continue the private conversations. They can be assumed to happen before official business begins. (As a reminder, this means that reactions to any official announcement shouldn't be made in those threads, since the announcements haven't happened yet)
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With a touch of sadness, Animus slips away from Triquetra, forcibly reminding himself to look around the room as he approaches the table at the front. So many new faces, and without the touch of the Supernal, they all seemed cold, nearly lifeless. And yet, their presence brought a glimmer of hope, that the pain of friends vanishing didn't have to be all there was.
Standing behind the table's central chair, Animus sweeps the room with his gaze. "There are several matters to discuss, but the first must be the issue of who will lead that discussion. With the exception of Epopt Pym's admirable service, the Councilor chairs have sadly fallen empty. I ask that the members of each Path except Mastigos confer amongst themselves and choose a representative to act as Councilor."
With that, the Hierarch falls silent, wearily seating himself. So many failures. It should never have devolved this far.
Consilium Consultations
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