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The day is a crisp October afternoon, the sun is shinning weakly over Sacramento, slanting through the windows of the circle. The motes of dust that have gathered over the years float in the sunlight . The circle is quiet today, but there something in the air.
Animus had been spending more time at the Circle lately. Training, honing his body. Sometimes the exertion helped dull his mind to what had been done to him. That it also made it more likely any intruders would find more than they bargained for certainly didn't hurt matters any.
But today, he just couldn't seem to get into that mode. Years of dealings with the Shadow Realm had sensitized the Thyrsus to subtleties of resonance, and the feeling that something was off hovered always at the edge of his mind, just distracting enough to break any sense of fulfillment he might have gotten out of his workout.
Guards-the-Pack, too, is on edge, alternately brushing against his master and growling lightly at fleeting shadows. The Thyrsus idly scratches at his familiar's ephemeral fur, but there's little comfort he can provide. Still, just knowing that the spirit is nearby lightens his own mood a bit. That bond wouldn't break, no matter what else might happen to or around him.
Technique meandered down the hall towards the training room - mop and bucket in hand. He had been working on cleaning other parts of the Circle - this was their headquarters, and people had to take pride in it. They didnt have legions of bureaucratic, federally paid janitors. No, this army was self-sustaining, and this Arrow worked to maintain the places cleanliness.
However, there are some memories that places carried that no water could wash away. The stain of intrusion felt like a blight to Technique's eyes, and he worked every bit as he could to clear it. Mopping past the door to the training room, Technique sees the Hierarch. They hadnt spoken since...well, person to person, they hadnt said much of anything but passing words to each other since Consillium. He sticks the mop back in the bucket, and heads on into the room. "Animus." He says cheerfully in greeting, trying to ignore whatever the Hierarch was petting. He obviously couldnt see it, so it was sort of inconsequential at the moment. "How does your training fare?"
The Thyrsus shrugs, incidentally pulling his hand away from his familiar. He knew how disconcerting it could be. "Well enough, I suppose. Just, ..." He heaves a sigh, causeing the wolf to jump slightly in suprise. "... a bit hard to concentrate."
A shake of the head, and a light smile, plainly forced. "I don't know, maybe it's nothing."
Tug leaves Falx in his room to sulk. Some days his brother got so down about being dead you just couldn't talk to the guy. It was about time for his afternoon workout, anyway. He grabs the iPod and his protein shake mix and goes to the main room to find Tech and Animus chatting, the Hierarch sweating like he'd been at it already. Biscuit meanders along behind, sniffing at spots of dried blood like a hound. "Yeah, probably," he says to Animus with a grin, "you still think too much." The big guy laughs, trying to let him know it was just a joke. "So what's going on? What are y'all trying to get into? Tech, you can leave that to me if you want," he says, nodding toward the bucket and mop. "I live to serve these days," he chuckles again. But it was true- simple chores had become the circuit connecting his soul to the Supernal. He had begun to take pride in how well he did things like sweep the floor and scrub the walls. It definitely wasn't the life he envisioned for himself when he was drafted by the Raiders, but that was Donnie's life, not Tug's, and it felt so long ago after all that had happened in Sacramento. There was another way he could create the same connection, too. "If you guys want to try and box the champ, I wouldn't say not to that, either." The Thyrsus beams as he mimics with his hands the belt he won at the Glissade tournament. Or would have, if they gave out belts.
There is a shuffle in the hall as something opens the door and pushes through. Its light and shuffling as if something with four paws. Those with Sense life notice it is a wolf signature.
At the door there is a polite tapping of claw against wood.
Tech refrained from making a quick quip about Dont try and show you have the bigger dick when it comes to being humble - before stopping himself. That kind of stuff, while, you know, could be unsaid, that was kind of difficult and not really the way to foster a friendship. "Im sure we can work together on it. Team effort, and all." The scraping sound catches Techniques attention - but he doesnt do anything as drastic as reach for his gun, not yet. Hell, he was still considering giving Tug a run for his money on that "Champ" thing.
A chuckle at his fellow Thyrsus' comment. "Maybe. But it isn't exactly easy to stop." Any further reply is cut off by a sudden flash of nervousness mere seconds before the knocking.
Muscles tense in readiness as Animus begins walking toward the source of the sound. "A wolf? Why would ... " The question trails off.
Guards-the-Pack, seemingly affected by his master's suspicion, growls lightly at Biscuit, but the wolf's ears perk just the slightest at mention of one of his kin. After a moment's pause, he turns to follow, still throwing wary glances at the other spirit.
Tug smiles and shrugs at Tech. "Sure, man, whatever. Learning to work as a team doesn't end at the gym." He nods sympathetically back to Animus. When he hears the knock at the door, Tug gets tense. Banishers and Seers didn't usually knock first, but in this crazy town. When Animus mentions a wolf, his thoughts go out to the only other shapeshifter he knew. He looks at Animus and mouths a name as a question- 'Ankh?' He tells his familiar to "Heel, boy," and heads towards the door, Biscuit beside him and one hand slipping on the knuckle in his pocket. He quickly performs an old rote to grant him Sight as he approaches. Before he opens the door, he turns to make sure that Tech had armed himself. The Hierarch...well, Tug had never seen him use anything but his claws. He and Tech would make sure Animus had time to draw them should they be necessary.
When the door opens there is a larger wolf sitting behind it. It stands and bows strutting into the room. It wears a large crest on its front. It strides up and then Shifts with a large blast of the Primal wild. A very large, very naked man stands, looking a little worse for wear. He nods around at each of them and the speaks, a voice a little creaky as if disused. "Nice digs. No wonder the lisping wonder likes it here."
The Hierarch shakes his head at Tug's mouthed question, a hint of pain briefly flashing behind his eyes. Apparently some wounds never quite heal.
A ghost of a smile plays across his face as the wolf becomes a man, but quickly vanishes at the other's words. Eyes lock on the newcomer, his own voice flat with an edge of steel. "I trust you have more pressing business than insulting one of our own?"
Awfully judging, for the path he walks.
The man looks over at him
"Insulting? What do you mean?" he looks positively confused.
"He means speak up 'bout your business before i feel obligated to make you eat that 'lisping wonders' quip." The Acanthus says, neverminding the fact that he has made essentially the same comments about Ahriman. Doesnt matter. Kid's proved his worth.
Tug also has to suppress a laugh and keep his game face on about the lisping comment. He had the same reaction when he first met Ahriman. He shook his head at Tech, deciding to play good cop. With Tech around, Tug always had to play good cop, dammit. "Hold up, Tech, this doesn't need to get violent. Does it, Mister...?" He'd offer the guy some pants but you can't be too careful, what with sympathy and all. And beside his claims that things needn't get violent, his hand stays within the knuckle's grip.
The kid laughs. He is in fact a kid, probably 25 at oldest, his hair, which is long and unkempt now that you look at it.
"Ahahah Ahriman doesn't mind." he chuckles "but my apologizes. The name is Skree. I am the Runner of the Holly arrows. I come bearing greetings from them and the announcement that Magod the Bannerwarden of the Holly branch cabal wishes to meet with the first talon or the highest ranking official in you head quarters."
Tech tries to keep a neutral face. He was a councillor, therefore underneath Animus. He was a talon, not a First Talon, so he was underneath Tug. Infact, despite his reasonable assuredness of equality he felt standing next to the two men - he was already out of his league.
Animus blinks at the other's confusion, but the anger, now awakened, simply finds another outlet. How dare this man be so open about what he was, free of the fear of the potential consequences of discovery?
His body trembles as he fights back the tide of emotion, and Guards-the-Pack, suddenly frantic, rushes to his master's side. This isn't me. Not who I should be, at any rate. A hand almost unconsciously trails along the spirit's flank, helping to ground him as he turns his attention back to the runner. "Is his business of primarily Consilium, or Arrow, interest?"
What am I becoming?
"The Arrow. He told me not to tell you why, I told him that you real probably have heard but he said he wanted to tell you himself and that he needed to speak to you himself." He shrugs lightly. "He wants to speak to what ever arrow will listen. "
"Hello, Skree," Tug rumbles at the visitor, his thoughts again on protecting Animus- his name, his position were not needed to be known by this one. Nor had it escaped his memory that there was a similar situation on the Circle's doorstep not long ago. "I'm First Talon Tug. I'll receive Magod here, but no more than you and he alone. The rest of your cabal, if they are present, are not welcome until its decided the two of you are. You leave your weapons, and any spells beyond the Mage Sight and Mage Armor at the door." The big guy sighs. "We've had nothing but trouble in this city and need to take every precaution. I hope your cabal can understand that."
Skree nods. "I have no weapons but my claws and they will stay as they are. " He smiles. "As for Ma-"
Behind him an man in a white shirt with long red hair that seemed to be turning white strode in. "As for me I need no Weapons. We accept first Talon Tug." He was large with a barrel chest and ripped arms. He had a broad friendly face with an easy smile. "Our cabal is not here, just us two." He stands hands on hips. "We thank you for your hospitality despite the trouble."
He looked around.
"Where is everyone else? Where is the little man?"
Tech crosses his arms and does his best to look all around surly behind Tug, and resists the raised eyebrow at the guy who looks like that dealer from Pulp Fiction. "Not here obviously."
Animus eyes the newcomer warily. Just how long has he been listening in? Resentment continues to simmer despite the calming influence of his familiar's closeness, and he bites back his own retort only with a great deal of effort and the vague realization that it could only worsen an already tense meeting. Better to just let Tug take the lead.
Tug suppresses an eyeroll. If Magod was already here, what was the point of sending Skree first? Unless the guy was cannon fodder, and no one who can shapeshift ought to be that, he thinks proudly. Tug catches on that Arrow was talking about Ahriman and wishes the guy had given him a bit of warning that he had Baggage. He'd have to talk to Ahriman about giving people a heads up. "What you see is what you get," Tug says. "But if you really wanted to know, I suppose you would have called him. Right?" Since Tug already had his Sight up, he tells them to "Make yourselves comfortable, this might take a minute. Tech, go ahead and search them." It might be a little demeaning, but Tug wouldn't expect any different treatment if the cleats were on the other feets.
[roll] 25199-25202[/roll
Assuming that they've met his demands and they've got no spells on them beyond Sight or Armor, he invites them, along with Animus and Tech, into the Circle's parlor, or whatever you call a card table and a mini-fridge in a room with an overhanging lamp. "So what's up?" the big guy rumbles. "Our hands are full here. Hell, we could probably use your help. So what do you want from us?"
Skree rolls his eyes and mutters something like 'Show off.'
Magod looks around at the others and sighs. "Perfect timing is never ever appreciated." he says in a disparaging voice and tosses a bag at Skree. "Thanks for trying man."
The Thyrsus rolls his eyes.
"No, no sorry. I just expected him to be here training." he looks slightly confused. "Its... well I will tell you later. For now Skree can stay out here, he's just my wing man" He lets tech frisk him and when its shown he has nothing on he follows him in and sits down.
"Trust me its about to get worse." he leans forward and sighs. "Tell me have you ever heard of Adamant banner?"
=== Other room, other room===
In the other room skree sighs now having changed into a pair of sweats.
"Sorry about that hes always trying to impress. It never goes well. "
Animus follows the others into the room, slightly releaved that Skree would be staying outside. But still the depth of emotion gives the Thyrsus pause, and Guards-the-Pack's pressure is almost constant against his leg.
Mention of the banner brings a vague flicker, visions of armies led on to glory. But ... a soft shake of thee head, tone tremulous as if doubting his own words even as they're spoken. "Adamant Banner? That's only a legend, isn't it?"
Tug's scrutiny reveals Magod as a powerful Acanthus, and Skree at about his own level...as well as the timed healing spells. "You can keep your healing spells," Tug says with a hint of magnanimity, mostly to let them know that he knew they hadn't done as he asked. "And the Godsend blessed thing on your necklace." But he could understand their hesitation to part with them. Luckily, hung or no, there were two Thyrsus here capable of countering them should the pair try anything, but Tug doubts they will. The First Talon didn't relish the idea of going toe to toe with someone with West's mastery of Arcana and his own soul. He nods along with Animus. "Uh, yeah. That thing. Powerful, right? What about it?"
After patting down Skree, Tech ollows the rest of them in the room. His ears perk up at the 'Godsend'. Eh, mother fucker? You still couldnt handle my swag. But fuck if he was gonna let this other Arrow know that there was a Master in the room as well. Naw, stay in the dark.
Madog shakes his head. "Not its no legend. The banners real, very much so." He looks around at them. "Its kept buy a cabal of masters that moves every so often. They currently are technically under my cabals hospitality and have been for a few months. Now It was fine until the Seers started sniffing around."
"....and you cant guarantee its safety anymore. Or something along those lines." The acanthus ask/states. More like a blind dart throw.
"Oh I guarantee its not safe anymore." There was a sigh. "They caught us off guard, took my cabal by storm and stole the Banner. " He frowns. "They fought dirty, did something to my ability to keep up with the fate lines. " He seems bothered. "Same with the fate master of the Cabal staying with us. "
Tech peered into this mans place in the Scales of Wyrd. If he was telling the truth - that he did everything he could, and someone interfered with them - the Scales would know. He saw an interlacing lattice of connections appear around Madog - and thanks to Master Killian, Technique was able to isolate the strand directly connected to the Adamant Banner. The closer he got to isolating the thread, however, led to more and more complications. The threads were broken, cut from an outside source. Technique tried to locate these threads, to find where the snap had come from - and at first, his only knowledge is that the person who did this was purposefully trying to stay secretive about it. "Hold on, im onto something." The Sacramento-based Fate Master says. He twists his hands in convoluted patterns - patterns familiar to the other Arrows as homespun twists on tried-and-true Arrow mudras. Technique envisions an imago of bringing forth every iota of power he had over fate, channeled through this scrutiny. Again, he is met with limited success - until he finds the one. The solitary thread, spiraling off through time.....
To Gettysburg. It felt like the snips, the ripples in Madogs Scales, stemmed from that precise and time. The insight was enough to make Techniques eyes go wide in shock. "What the fuck happened at Gettysburg? Did you fuck around in the past? Did you do something?" The other master snapped. Why in the fuck is it always the irresponsible Lunargent Thorns that give the rest of us a bad name. I swear to god if this Doc Brown did something.....
"Gettysburg?" the Holly Arrow looked baffled. "Why the hell would I care about Gettysburg? "
"Wait wait wait," Tug says, his hands shaking off the superfluent information for the time being. "The Banner is real and its in Seer hands? Sweet Jesus, what the hell are you doing here? You coulda just called." A thought catches up to the First Talon. "They didn't bring it here, did they? Oh, Christ." He looks forlorn at Madog. "They did, didn't they?" He looks over at Tech. "And Gettysburg? Isn't that in...uhm..." It takes the Thyrsus a minute, but eventually he comes up with "Pennsylvania?" Turning back to Madog, he asks, "What info do you have on the enemy?"
Images. Dark studies letting imagination fill in a friend's narrative. A primal shiver runs through the Thyrsus as his thoughts instantly snap to the Abyss. In some more rational part of his mind, an awareness that he didn't know for certain. But it does little to dull the jolt of fear. After all, anyone who could thwart such a Cabal was a danger no matter what backing they had.
And then, the second shock. "Tech, what are you saying? That he ... ?" The Thyrsus shakes his head, dumbfounded. The implication was just too far removed from even the abilities of a Master.
But then, he did know of one event that had changed time ... or something very like it. But if that was related to this ...
"They are within you territory. We came as soon as we figured out what had happened but my first talon will not allow action beyond me and Skree being here. " Madog shakes his head. "As for information its limited, whatevers happening is effecting all of the Acanthus around Hollywood. Hell I couldn't even divine someones future from a block away. " It sounds as if he has tried, which might explain the asking after Ahriman. "We did do our best though with what we had: Three to for of them, one has to a least be a space user to get through the spell my cabal mate had up. Nothing else was taken, so this was definitely a mission after the Banner, why we can only guess. No psychical evidence, not even hair so we either have the most metrosexual seers ever or a moros. We know they understood that we have thrysus as ours were attacked by pepper bombs. We also know they have a NON leathal view. More than one of our arrows was knocked out but not killed. These guys don't want blood on their hands. other than that nothing."
"Im saying that whoever is interfering with their place in the Scales...interfering with their magic and fate is doing so from the battle of goddamned Gettysburg." The homebrewed Acanthus has more and more of a look of worry on his face. "We might as well say it, since it doesnt take a huge leap of intellectual ingenuity to get there - theyre going to use the banner to change the outcome of the battle."
A primal shiver runns through Animus, as he listens to the new information, trying to process it. But his mind just couldn't quite focus. It was too much at once, too overwhelming.
The Thyrsus shakes his head, as if to get rid of a particularly annoying fly. "But what could change the past on such a large scale? That's beyond the range, even of most Masters."
Tug is confused. "If the Seers didn't kill when given the chance, there's only three conclusions." He counts them off on his plump fingers. "One- they're bound not to, out of honor, morality, or oaths, or whatever reason. Two- you weren't important enough to kill now. Three- and this is my favorite- at least one of your friends is a traitor." Tug shrugs his broad shoulders. "You said you've got a Space mage and they must have, too. But maybe you both have just the one. Just a thought." He doesn't say what else he's thinking- that an Acanthus as powerful as Madog could probably be manipulating the Fate of Hollywood and claiming he couldn't see it either. Tug looks tensely over at Tech and Animus, wondering if the Acanthus' conclusion could be correct. "They don't have to exert any control of that particular battle, do they?" He recites a moral his father taught him, his own ties with Fate lending creedence to his words. "For want of a nail, the horse was lost. For want of a horse, the scout was lost. For want of a scout, the general was lost. For want of a general, the battle was lost. For want of a victory, the war was lost. They could affect any small thing and set off a chain reaction. Like, right here in Sacramento, even." Tug actually hoped that was the case. He loathed the idea of leaving Falx by himself, as if his brother's specter would become lost or fade away without Tug's constant presence. "So what do you say we find them before they can drive the DeLorean out of here?"
Madog stiffens at the first part of the little speech and stays quiet until he is done, though his face looks like its one of those "how are you feeling today?" boards. Anger, fear, hurt, worry flash across his face before setting back into his half lidded blank look. He tries to let The others speak but you can all tell his feelings have turned rather icy now. When he hears they are planning he stands and bows, stiff and controlled, much different from the person who had tried to make a flashy entrance.
"If that is all... I will take my leave. My orders were to report my fa-... the issue and leave, please be sure to send my compliments to your head that he has such a fine group. I would stay to visit and pass them on myself but, Hollywood is in an uproar now and I am needed." He seems to want to say something else but stops himself and exits through the door with only enough a backwards glance to say:
"I thank you for your hospitality."
"Uh. Alright then." Tug turns to the others as Madog makes to exit the Circle. "I guess I coulda been more delicate 'bout the traitor thing. Just didn't think I needed to, is all." He sighs. "So the Hollywood Arrows have lost the Banner and are dumping the problem off to us, then. Let's get crackin, gentleman. Tech, can you get any kind of fix on where it might be? Animus, feel like stretching your wings?" The Thyrsus grins. It had been a long time since they did bird-recon.
The other Thyrsus is silent for a moment, instinctively recoiling from the waves of emotion Madog throws off. "Cabals are a sensitive matter, sometimes. When you trust someone deeply enough, even the slightest question of betraayal can feel like a knife tto the gut."
He shivers slightly, then suddenly freezes. "Josh was badly wounded, wasn't he? But left alive. What if that was the same group, that attacked us, here?" The last word comes out in an almost wolf-like snarl, and the Thyrsus falls silent for several seconds, breathing deeply to rein himself in.
Finally, he finds his voice aain. "You know I'm always willing to take to the sky. Besides, I think I need to clear my head a bit."
He looks from the retreating Madog, to Tug, then back to Madog. "Erm, ill try. Hey Madog, hold up!" The Councillor calls out, jogging after the man.
Madog stiffened but had already stopped just outside the door as he seemed to be talking to mid air .Also Tug, you will notice that The Acanthus seems to have been having a quiet conversation with your brother.
"Is there something I can help you with?"
"You can still help with our mission. Can you give me a description of the Banner, or something more significant, perhaps? We're going to need atleast that much in order to begin our search." The acanthus says flatly.
" I would but.. I have never seen the banner. " He turns and smiles, still looking a slight angry. " I do know what the box looks like though, if you think that will help. " He turns something over in his hand. "and... " he quiets down.
"Yeah ark of the covenent. " he says. "Its pretty bad. They lost the key and everything." He moves to reach into his pocket. He pulls out a small peice of wood. "they also gave me this."
Tug nods at Animus, smiling wearily, when Tech chases down Madog and the Thyrsus notices the Acanthus talking to himself, or more likely, Falx. "Hold up," he whispers to the Hierarch, then performs the mudra that connects his Wild soul to Stygia, and thus, his brother. Tug is angered over what feels like a breach of courtesy, but at the same time, he knows Falx must get bored just being able to talk to his brother all the time, so he bites the building rage down. You just don't walk into a mage's home and start talking to his ghosts, though, who the hell does that? Tug motions for him to come over and asks, "Everything alright, bro?"
"Yeah, sorry, the guy noticed me on the way in and he had dropped something. I saw him leaving and had to return it. " He shrugs. "Guys a Banshee, so I decided to talk to him. He was wondering if I was an arrow that hadn't been able to pass or something, and then was intrested in how you kept me here. Thats when Tech stepped in." he shrugs, looking at the other. "The question is are you okay?"
"Fine," Tug says to his brother, trying not to keep the agitation from his face. Sure, Madog and Skree were Arrows, but they weren't Sac Arows. Tug didn't know them and wished his brother hadn't told the guy his business. "I don't trust 'em," he says quietly. "That's all. What did he drop?" Falx wasn't the sharpest Arrows in the quiver. Maybe Madog had tried to leave something here. That's more likely than a Master of Fate losing his bus pass. He was also wondering if he'd heard of this Legacy before...
4 sux on recognize legacy roll
"Why don't you trust them? " His brothers voice sounded more focused now, as if he were tuning into something. "And he dropped a letter. It was open and everything. " He moves closer to his brother. "Do you want me to see if I can take him?" he whispers conspiratorially .
You know their official title is "Singers in Silence." They are of the Mysterium normally, or Of the Ancanthi. They deal with ghosts, and Arrows, for what you know of them, tend to use them as funeral singers and attack detectors because they can sense attacks coming or something like that.
Technique focuses in on the shard - what he correctly assumed to be a chip of the case used to carry the Adamant Banner. He concentrated his will into just the right moment, to see just the right instance of where this thing would be, of what their chances were of retrieving it.
A vision. A blue car, and a close up on the license plate. Four or five people in the car - and several other cars suspiciously full of occupants. Next, Technique sees a car full of Sacramento Arrows descend into the fray to retrieve the banner - and then, convoluted messages. Conflicting scenes. In one, the Arrows are victorious. The other, they are slaughtered to the man. The second happens more consistently than the first....then its done. His spell work over, he tries to contain the shock of seeing people he might know die in the future. "I know where it will be. But we cant try and snag it - if we do, whoever gets sent on the mission is likely to die. But....there is a cloud over the vision, like Madog said. The images are sometimes conflicting, but i wouldnt put my bets on a successfull raid." Lo and behold when the Fate Master starts talking about making bets....
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