Seven(?) against the Convergence

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Jack Rothwell
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Re: Seven(?) against the Convergence

Post by Jack Rothwell »

OOC Borrowing Argus for a line or two if that's ok Drannin./OOC

"Try again."

It was doubtless one of the most difficult things the Tamina had ever attempted to learn; it wasn't that kobolds were incapable of using magic outside of their bodies (or bodies they were in contact with for that matter), but rather that such magic hadn't ever really been used by, nor had much use for her kind. Even under Argus' gentle guidance, the humanoid was still feeling like a jockey halfway through a hang-gliding lesson. At the whim of the breeze, and missing the solid ground.

The subject of her concentration was a pot set on a table in a unoccupied chamber the pair had found after leaving her tutor's love interest. The object of the lesson was to use her mana to knock the reticule off it's stand without touching it.

So far, it had proven a little frustrating.

Tamina gritted her teeth and concentrated on standing still, trying to follow Argus' advice and visualise her magic as an extension of her being rather than something woven through it. For the twentieth-third or twenty-fourth time (she'd long since stopped counting) she willed her energy forward in a pushing motion at the damnably immobile object before her.

The pot trembled once, briefly, and was still.

"Cabra!" She cursed.
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Drannin
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Re: Seven(?) against the Convergence

Post by Drannin »

Argus pursed his lips. "I think it's just how you visualize things. It's probably different from I view things. Let's try this: touch the pot with your fingertips. Let your mana flow between you and it. Let yourself believe that the pot is part of you, and you it. Then, draw your hand back while maintaining that link. Once you learn how to maintain such a connection, it will be easier to form the connection in the first place.

"Try it: touch, link, withdraw and maintain. Then PUSH."

Off to the side, Harker was quietly sketching the lesson.
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Re: Seven(?) against the Convergence

Post by Jack Rothwell »

Tamina composed herself at Argus' advice and did as she was bidden. The pupil slinked across the room, quietly repeating the instructions under her breath, and placed a tentative hand on the pot, her claws making a faint 'sccrrrrtch' as they scraped against the clay. The kobold's eyes closed and ears drooped, as if she were trying to turn her senses inwardly, into the magic that scurried through her body. She channelled slowly, mindful of the delicacy of the operation, and felt the slow spread of warmth as the mana flowed into the object against her skin.

Connecting might have been easier with organic material. In fact, given the similarity in the nature of the tissue, that was almost certainly true. Even so, the process was working. Tamina probed the simple shape until she could see it clearly in her head. She tried to imagine it as a limb, turning, twisting, rolling...

Yes. It seemed possible.

With forced calm on her face and her eyes still clamped shut, the kobold leaned backward and, one by one, lifted her fingers off the pot. The last digit extended until only the tip of the nail was touching the surface. Then, with a last shallow breath, she broke the touch.

Argus and Harker could see a faint light, a thin whisper of energy between the pot and the humanoid mage still lost in concentration. It extended, inch by inch, as Tamina edged away from the table with her last finger still pointed as if accusing the pot of foul play. Two feet passed, then three, then five, until the mana resembled a cast fishing line. With the same measured pace she'd shown thus far she closed her hand, and the line grew rigid. A slow smile spread across the kobold's face like a sunrise.

"Think... I'm finally... getting it."

Without further ceremony, the humanoid punched her closed fist forward. The pot tumbled backwards sharply as if someone had struck it with a snooker cue. Tamina's eyes snapped open at the clunking sound of the receptacle hitting the floor.

The bouncing and squee-ing which followed was considerable.
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Re: Seven(?) against the Convergence

Post by Graybeard »

The airship droned north for a while before Father Amalric deigned to ask Tim one more question. "Tell me, Brother Timothy who is Lieutenant Gantric. You have fought in many battles since leaving Umbertiel. What, in those battles, have you found that is worth dying for?"

------------

Sister Rose was dozing while Argus and Tamina practiced; she'd learned in her own military years to get sleep when it was available, and the gentle swaying of the airship was soporific. However, the whoops and hollers when Tamina figured out the spell penetrated her consciousness.

What a father he's going to be, she thought fondly as she stretched and got ready to venture out again. Is already, of course... but I hope will soon be again. Well, first things first. She got up and poked a smiling face into Tamina's cabin. [OOC: This ship is so cramped that there really aren't "extra" cabins and holds for this practice, but I don't see any problem with the practice happening in Tamina's cabin. /OOC:] "Having fun?" she smiled at the mage, the kobold and the familiar ... just as the figurine grew hot in the folds of her robe again. Uh, oh.

------------

Therese had decided that she would not give her tormentors the satisfaction of seeing her either reduced to a weeping puddle, or lashing out in rage the way Mordan did. She did her best to project an image of quiet, confident contempt. If it had any effect on the inquisitors, it wasn't obvious.

The experience that followed, she would later declare, was nothing to put into words -- not "painful" so much as "creepy." The best she could manage as an analogy was a whole basketful of spiders creeping across the surface of her brain, never mind that she'd always been told during her lessons as a Healer there were no pain or touch receptors inside the brain itself. Well, there was something there that was experiencing a light, menacing touch. At least "light" and "menacing" were the right descriptors; no one was literally or metaphorically tearing out gobs of gray matter and exposing to the magical light of day.

She wasn't sure how long the process took; it might have been seconds, or it might have been hours. By the time it finished, Mordan was snoring in the cords of his Binding, and she knew that she herself would lose consciousness soon. (Would she ever wake up? She was too tired to think about that.) However, she retained enough of her faculties to hear snatches of conversation. Surprisingly, she could recognize much of the archaic Tsuirakuan language now. Her interrogators, probably without realizing or intending it, had left information imprinted on her brain, as well as obtaining some ... and what they obtained was apparently not what they expected.

"What is a 'Convergence'?" "This Refuge-Nouveau -- I have never heard of such a thing in Tsuiraku." "But she has met Kitaura-sla." (This latter, she would guess later, was a vile curse word in the old tongue that might be used for a particularly filthy demon. The mental speaker who'd left that trace in her mind "pronounced" it with a combination of fear, horror, and deepest disgust.) "But she does not know him." "And she does not know us."

The last thing she heard before sleep overtook her wasn't mental at all; it was audible. "Let us get Oshima-san. He will know what to do."
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Re: Seven(?) against the Convergence

Post by Jack Rothwell »

"Having fun?"

Tamina stopped dancing around the room at the nun's entrance and turned to face her with a beaming smile.

"Rosie! I did it! Made the magic without the touch!" She whirled and gave the woman's lover a sudden and enthusiastic hug. "Thanks Argus! I'll repay you! Got some Killikah magics you could learn too! Be helpful with the- the..."

The kobold had glanced over at the nun during her excited babbling and caught sight of an unexpected troubled expression. She made a confused noise, released the middle-aged man from her embrace (Gods only knew what kind of picture Harker could make of that little celebration), and made an inquiry.

"Umm... Rose? Something wrong?"
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Re: Seven(?) against the Convergence

Post by Alberich »

"Tell me, Brother Timothy who is Lieutenant Gantric. You have fought in many battles since leaving Umbertiel. What, in those battles, have you found that is worth dying for?"

Tim would've found it easy to make a short list -- Veracia, his neighbors, the Church, the Faith, the souls of men. But from the way Father Amalric talked, he thought he wanted something more thoughtful. So he ran through the battles he'd known.

"When we first left, there was a monster...it wanted to ravish Desiree. I can't say I was protecting her virtue, exactly, because she isn't a virtuous woman" -- Tim didn't feel he was accusing her; it was obvious to him that Father Amalric already knew, and he'd already said he was tolerating his passengers' ways on this voyage -- "but to stop that kind of thing from happening, that is worth dying for. Some slavers took her captive on our first trip to Port Lorrel. I fought them too. The same thing - to stop that, and to do justice when there is no other justice."

Tim had not joined his companions in condemning Eli's slaughter of the slavers. Farrel had no "authorities" worthy of the name to turn them over to, nor any law worthy of the name to judge them. Port Lorrel, like the rest of Farrel, was a wilderness; and the only judgment in the wilderness was the judgment you brought there yourself.

"Most of the other fights I was in involved that other business you know. And whatever else may be said, one thing worth dying for, always, is the soul of a man. It's our teaching, isn't it? Better a thousand die than one be damned. And if I have to be one of the thousand, well, then, so be it."

A soul in peril tops, in worth, / All the wealth of all the earth.

"As for our battle in the north against the monster that was allied with Blaise - to rid the world of an evil like that, surely that is worth many lives. Blaise was a corruption in the Church, and that thing was a naked corruption in the world, even worse than that awful heathen country we found it in. Any man who wouldn't die to rid the world of that, is no man at all. That's what I've seen, Father."

He didn't ask a question in response, figuring Amalric would talk if he wanted to talk, and not talk if he wanted not to talk, and that nothing he said would affect that decision.

* * *

All was tranquility from Desiree's and Anfisa's room. Well, except for that one time when they were getting hungry, and Anfisa -- after endless false starts as she kept peeping out and working up her courage -- ran to the galley, grabbed the foodstuffs, used the quick magic to cook them, and ran back, all in the nude, then collapsed in laughter and relief after getting the door shut.

How strange these human nudity taboos were to Desiree was for Desiree herself to say, but the proof was there before her that violating them could be absurdly thrilling. Not being magically gifted, Anfisa couldn't invoke the power of Anilis to bring herself to the pitch of excitement, but with Desiree for a lover and moments like these, she didn't need it...

(That wasn't her only motive. Anfisa, not knowing that Amalric had already promised Rose he'd put them off the ship, and continuing to assume that he was scrying them all the time, thought this move might help to ensure they were ejected. In the very place where they wanted to leave anyway. What better way to leave without drawing suspicion than to make their host want to toss them out?)

And then there were the more tranquil moments, when Anfisa was fixing up the room, learning to use the magical comfort fixtures, and in the process memorizing both their workings and any artisans' marks she could see. Maybe she wouldn't be able to tell Kitaura how the engines worked or what weapons this vessel carried, but if he knew who'd made the fixtures and what countries they came from, maybe he could trace that to the people who'd made the rest of the ship, and so learn all he wanted to know. But any watcher would think she was just playing with the stuff, not studying it.
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Re: Seven(?) against the Convergence

Post by Graybeard »

Father Amalric pondered Tim's speech for a long minute, and again, strange emotions played across his severe face. Finally he spoke. "If you think that was a corruption, you ain't seen nothing yet." He turned back to the controls, his usual demeanor restored.

----------

OOC: OK if we fast-forward to about an hour out of Rinkaiel?
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Jack Rothwell
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Re: Seven(?) against the Convergence

Post by Jack Rothwell »

OOC Ok with me./OOC
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Re: Seven(?) against the Convergence

Post by Alberich »

[OOC: I'm fine with that. I suppose by that point Anfisa and Desiree have had a chance to snooze and snuggle, and Anfisa might be back in the galley, mostly dressed this time, searching through the exotic foodstuffs for a last snack before they land. The reason being, it's a meal they don't have to pay for, and she figures they might be living hand-to-mouth for a little while. Whether Desiree's with her or still a-bed is for her to say. If there's any well-travelled adventurer around she'll be asking a flurry of questions about what this food is and where it comes from. Tim isn't asking Amalric any more questions, on the theory that this would be futile, but when his shift is over he'll share what little he's learned with Rose.]
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Re: Seven(?) against the Convergence

Post by Graybeard »

[OOC: OK, so we're landing in Rinkaiel...]

"We will be in port six to eight hours," Father Amalric said, not particularly caring whether anyone was listening. "Get your business done quickly. Go now, there is a safety hazard while refueling is in progress."

That seems like an awfully long time to refuel an airship, thought Sister Rose. Then it hit her: that included the time to rescue Therese. I don't know how I know she's here, but she is. And if it's a long time to refuel an airship, it's a short time for a rescue. And why is he essentially ordering us off the thing? A modern airship, and this is as modern as they get -- outside Tsuiraku, anyway -- isn't any more dangerous to refuel than it is to fly in, which is to say, not at all.

If Rose had been inclined to think about what was involved in magical refueling, she might have felt otherwise. However, the thought never crossed her mind.

"Well, let's go," she said uncertainly to the group, some awake and alert, some not; it was the wee small hours now, after all.

------------

Meanwhile, Therese and Mordan were doing their best to sleep after the indignities of the Mind Probes ... but others with an interest in the spells, and the place where they had been cast, were not.
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