|
Post by infidelzombie on Dec 4, 2010 2:42:25 GMT -7
"Viens M'enculer" I cursed under my breath. Fuck me... It summed up my attitude adequately. You'd no doubt curse yourself as well had you just witnessed a robed man drain and kill an awakened, and he was now being carried towards yourself, unconscious and slung over the trolls shoulder. I could feel the sense of wrongness pervading him from here. Judging from Guai's disposition I assumed she could too. One never could tell with her though. And I must admit to myself that I understood the reasoning in bringing him along. Something had blocked my attempt to delve deeper into Blake Robbins mind. No mere parlour trick. But the robed mans display left no further doubt in my mind. The Brotherhood was no simple humanis get together... Blood drinking and sacrifice aside
I fought down my nausea as the put the mage killer in the passengers seat and strapped him down. I took the extended precaution of having my Alta pressed against the back of the seat, ready to fire in case he tried something regrettable. It'd be a shame to fill this enigma with bullet holes. At least until the mystery was solved.
There was some argument about where to take him, whether back to the apartment or a different location and I caught some more talk about the 'puppy'. I can't believe I'm doing this pro bono... Maybe it's time I got the full facts or looked for another way to turn a profit on this. At least until his honour Robbins came around.
We took the three 'Brothers' to a run down slum of an apartment building and set up there. That done I packed up and suggest the others do the same for the night. Depending on how standard methods of interrogation perform, I may have to pursue more...esoteric methods of investigation. The parents should be easy enough to break, provided they're not guarded by the same entity protecting the Judge's mind.
No it was the wild card I was worried about. The man in the robes.
|
|
|
Post by infidelzombie on Dec 8, 2010 3:33:18 GMT -7
With the fanatic nut safely subdued, and the information that Guai and Shade had so desperately need pried from Mr. O'Niel's unconscious mind I figured I might have a few days to spend tailing the judge Blake Robbins and his son in the hopes of getting solid proof of parentage. Before parting ways with the rest, I reminded them that we'd either need a voice changer, or the fathers cooperation in contacting the son. I even went so far as to suggest that if they knew someone who could get me a micro camera, directional microphone, and a laser microphone with mid-level visual and audio enhancements respectively, my nuyen and I would be appreciative.
As I got off from Shade's truck near my place and stepped into the cold Seattle night I did up my great coat and lit a cigarette. Late as it was I couldn't sleep yet. No rest for the wicked. I left a message for my Talismonger Catherine asking her to look into a European organization or cult called the New Dawn and get back to me, stressing their apparent extremist anti-awakened religious bent. While I walked I took the opportunity to also digitally browse her bookstore via AR, looking through the catalogue for anything that might cover or discuss our new friend Michaels abilities. I didn't have any high hopes, but Catherine tended to deal in the more esoteric arcana than mainstream. And I did grab a book or two that might have helped after reading a few excerpts. By the time I had swiped my keycard through the maglock I was already browsing through a few of the pages. I stopped myself before I got too far. I'd have plenty of time to look through them while I tailed the judge. Tomorrow.
Tonight I had an appointment with a higher self.
I swept a different passkey through the reader on my doors own maglock, and stepped into my neat and tidy little world. The door opened into the small and orderly kitchen; polished black countertops and appliances set into the sterile white of counters and cupboards. I wasted no time in the stark contrast of the kitchen and tossed my coat over the island before grabbing a glass and a bottle of scotch whisky. The Lagavulin 16 yr old. Pouring myself a dram, I take a draught and let myself relax if only for a moment. I check through my mail via AR, deleting the trash and paying a few bills while I finished the whisky. That done I put my Commlink on hidden and put it away for the night before discarding my tie, dress shirt and socks as well. Thus relaxed, I eased between the plane material into the astral. Fully set in both worlds I stepped into my lodge.
It was a simple affair, a small room dedicated to his studies with a central altar. Poorly lit save for the light of my lighter, I set about illuminating the candles, set on shelves along the walls and on the altar. Suffused with the soft glow, I could make out the familiar details of my true home. The dry and preserved length of discarded snake skin dominated the altar top spread out in a concentric ring with the snake skull at it's centre pointing inward. The rest of the altar was clutter, various snake charms carved from bone and set in black ink to jars of multi-coloured sands. On each of the four walls was a banner, each one a different mythic representation of the snake. On one the biblical serpent, tempting Eve with the Apple, on another the African Serpent Dan, on whose coils rested the world. None of this drew my eye. Instead I took a candle and light two cones of incense and fell to my knees before the altar, bowed my head and spread my arms in supplication, calling upon my patron spirit.
“In the time before light, the serpent was there. Eye and scale gleaming in the dark. Before there was Sky, only the cold embrace of Earth, the serpent was there. Searching through her veins for her secrets. Before there was Earth, when there was only endless Ocean, the serpent was there; rooting out the secrets of the darkest depths. Ancient father, twisted coil, Sredni Vashtar. I seek your guidance.”
I lost track of just how long I had communed with my mentor, but it had been time well spent. He had agreed with me that Michael was an interesting case, but that his lack of essentially existence on the astral troubling. To that end he spent the majority of the night new ways to look at the aura. Further means of insight like looking to the astral signature behind the aura, or how to extract and interpret lingering emotions on personal effects, as well as to lift sensory impressions from the more strongly connected affects. I was blessed by my patron with this knowledge, few understand the true meaning of power like the snake.
I shambled out of my lodge and looked at the clock. It was time to get up if I was going to tail the judge.... ...Viens M'enculer......fuck me.
C'est la vie. At least I can afford real coffee.
|
|
|
Post by infidelzombie on Feb 21, 2011 16:54:01 GMT -7
Anatole cursed as he bolted up out of his bed, Alta drawn and ready. Dressed only in his undershirt and slacks, he checked the shack he had found and claimed as his own for now. Not slipping out of astral sight as he continued to scan his surroundings, hunting for an astral signature.* He sighed as his pounding heart steadied, and collapsed into the dilapidated chair before fumbling for his glasses. The dark parting like a stage curtain as he slipped them on and the low light vision activated automatically. Grabbing his pack of cigarettes, he took one out and lit it. Taking in a deep inhalation of the blessed nicotine he steadied his shaking hands. Letting his breath and the smoke out, he quickly summoned four watcher spirits, empowering them until dawn with instructions to patrol the immediate area for any other astral or dual natured entity and to report to him should it be found. Just to be on the safe side, he imparted them with the brief impression he had gotten when he had been awoken. Though he felt moderately better after this, he'd try and get some paint later from one of the Resolve men. He'd need to put up some wards... until he did he doubted he'd find any peace in a nights rest. Anatole rubbed his sore shoulder ruefully and gave it another look over. Shallow, and the bleeding had stopped hours ago. Just a graze really, he had been lucky.
And what a lovely little outing this was turning out to be. Hounded by a faux samurai with a grudge since before the trip had even started, and an irate troll not long after they had taken off he'd had to defend himself against his...well team might be too generous a word. -and Snake never really considered himself a part of anything- But his business associates. He'd had to defend himself from his business associates on this run more than he did against any opposition. He'd have to deal with that. The Yakuza street tough might take the hint while he'd be holding his own katana to his throat, but the troll Guai... Anatole could practically smell the nuyen to be made off her with the information Maury gave him. If she came after him again, well there was the excuse to slip into her mind he'd been looking for. Then maybe he'd know why she was after an escaped convict with ties to Humanis, among other things. The stranger was safe as long as he kept his nose clean, otherwise Anatole would love to get into his head to root out all those profitable little secrets hackers kept. Until then however Snake Eyes would sit awake, smoking and checking in with his Watchers until the sun began to rise.
Yes, this was a lovely way to start a trip into the Zone.
[/li][li]
|
|