2020-04-16 Prophetic Dreams
| 2020.04.16 Prophetic Dreams - The Shadow PrP Pilot | |
|---|---|
| A young Theurge is having a prophetic dream and it's up to the others to pick it apart for clues. | |
| IC Date | May 16, 2020 |
| IC Time | Late night |
| Players | Barksdale, Azoth, Ciara |
| Storyteller | Ciara |
| Location | The Pit |
| Spheres | Black spiral dancers, Pentex, Wyrm |
(Please add any bits if you have additional logs)
n the shallow parts of the pits, the young Theurge M'whaha in her very human form wakes up screaming eyes wide and her mouth slack and drowling. She scrambles to her feet urgently seeking someone or something to talk too. Clad in only a t-shirt a size or two larger then her frame, she barefeeted scrambles along the labyrinth like walkways. Barksdale is making one of his irregular but becoming more regular visits to the Hive. He has always made a routine stop, making sure he is connected and helping the father here as much as with Pentex. When be sees the staggering form of M'whaha he rumbles a moment and begins that way, "Hm. Is everything alright?" he isnt asking out of kindness but he asks anyway. Ciara almost stumbles and falls on her bare knees before Barksdale as she looks up at with wide eyes, filled with madness. "We need to go..We must find it first..Aife will whip us all if they get to it." she almost snarls as she grabs Barksdale's pants and tugs at them. "The Silver is soo painful, it burns, and the mead lulls my mind to such degrees I can't think straight." she shakes her head slightly as she snickers softly. "The lights on the street are out of order, smoke rising from the grate pipes in the road." she groans softly and arches her back til it nearly snaps. "Find IT!"
As she tugs at his pants he simply lords over her listening, he shakes off the whispers of Karnala so he can focus on what she is saying. Prophecy? He rumbles, "Focus." he notes a hand sliding through her hair and turns her head to look up at him, "Find what? Think through it...We will need it all. Whatever info is in there?"
In the shadow parts of the Pit the young Theurge M'whaha clad in a somewhat too large t-shirt is on her knees before Barksdale screaming hell and bloody murder.
Barksdale is tugging at her hair to tilt her head upwards to look at him and drool still drips down the sides of her mouth. "He burns bright as silver, body painted in blue glyphs, protected by a lion." she whimpers as she continues to pull at the pants of Barksdale, almost shaking him as if to get him to help her.
Such activity draws a lot of attention, one way or another. Of the countless numbers of the horrors below, some are inclined to take interest. While screaming is nothing new to hear along the winding tunnels, it still draws in eyes and ears and dark interests. Most may keep a bit of distance, but there WILL be spectators. Furthermore, there are other disturbances. Those spiritual inhabitants of the Pit are going to echo such emotions, such distress, and some are more in tune with their cries than others. Of the many that peer and listen in, there is one that shambles closer.
<<What is the cause of this clamor?>> Azoth's Garou words are stern, solid.
"Protected by the lion?" Barksdales nose wrinkles, the implication certainly there and known. "Then he belongs with us or dead...no matter how bright..." he begins to before turning to the arrival of Azoth. "Perfect. Perhaps you can splice through what is prohetic and what is madness." the soldier asks.
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Current Phase: Last Quarter, Rage diff 6 (5 if Philodox and/or Crinos)
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Ciara has a mad look in her eyes as she slowly gets up on her bare feet, using Barksdale as a climbing tree. Her body is still wracked, and now and then her knees buckle or back arches to near breaking point. Tears streams down her cheeks. There is a bleeding glyph on the inside of her left thigh which is visible as she struggles to get up, the mark of Angu. "The face of Luna shines full, the streets covered in dust, steaming grate pipes. I see them, howling in the woods heralding his arrival. She wants him, she wants her." The young Theurge rants.
Azoth has a tendency for spewing mad words, scrying dark omens, and revealing dark prophecy himself. It's one of the reasons people come to him for advice on various matters, including pack missions. The sharp inhalation of air punctuates revelation and acknowledgment on Azzy's behalf. <<The young Theurge. A mind split between the here and the there, whispers from voices of faces unseen speaking into the ears, truths of the machinations of the Realm a heavy burden -- many Theurges break from the strain, for those of us with the mind and comprehension to not already be broken beyond use.>>
Drawing closer, it might be seen that Azoth has his once-but-now-Fallen Uktena pipe in hand. His smoking and meditation interrupted, smoke trailing from the nostrils of his leaf-shaped nose, the Keeper regards the frantic young woman's motion and sounds with direct interest and observation. Visual clues are completely missed by the Blind One. <<You have her greatest focus, Brother. It is up to you to direct the focus of her words. Only she can attempt to control what is shown to her. You might know this if you and your team ever came to me for spiritual insight.>> Azoth has episodes of vision and prophecy very often, such is the gift given the Hive from Whippoorwill. <<Choose a detail. A single detail, Brother, that you think needs better clarification and see if she can see anything more. There may be naught more to know.>> Azoth may have his own thoughts, but he keeps those to himself for now.
If him and his team ever came...the shot is noted, processed and not necessarily unwaranted. Barksdale listens carefully to Azoth in that moment and nods. His hand strongly gripping Ciara now as she struggles to her feet. He keeps her up so that he can gaze into her features as if wanting to see what she sees. "The streets." The Philodox decides, "Focus on the streets beneath that pale moon...look for details, Where are we? Where must we go? Tell me about the streets...the concrete, the signs...focus." he whispers to her in a rumble. Ciara groans as she sinks down on her knees again. "Bat, Morrigan, Aife..oh AIFE!" she screams the last as her body is wracked in pain once again and she curls up on the floor in a fetal position. She growls and shudders. "The street..Grate pipes..Lights, out of order. Factory..Nnngh..Soo bright, it hurts..." she moans and clenches her eyes shut. "The street is cracked, from...marks of heavy trucks..Industrial." she widdens her eyes. "Four, seven six nine." she whispers and saliva drools out of her mouth. "Red buildings, bricks..abadonened cars..Avenue, four seven six nine." <OOC> Ciara says, "Feel free to roll int+investigation vs 7, streetwise vs 6" <OOC> Ciara says, "Or any other relevant skills, enigmas works too" <---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======---> Barksdale rolls Intelligence vs 7 for 1 successes. 4 +7 <-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============-------------> <OOC> Barksdale says, "somehow I dont have streetwise or investigation (gr)" <OOC> Ciara chuckles. <OOC> Azoth says, "sure, one moment." <---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======---> Azoth rolls Intelligence + Enigmas vs 7 for 4 successes. 5 5 +8 +8 +8 +10 <-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============-------------> You paged Barksdale with 'Naturally don't know all the streetnames on the grid, but she seems to be resiting what could just be street names or street numbes.' You paged Azoth with 'Yepp, ranting as she is, she is reciting what sounds like street numbers, perhaps she is seeing a street sign in her vision or the name of streets on the buildings. Since it's numbers only, it's most likely an industrial part of town.'
The scene around the trio may be very serious and they may have a number of eavesdroppers and watchers taking in things as they unfold, but there is a greater crowd gathered than meets the eye. Could Azoth take over and try to suss the details of the matter from what Sister M'whaha can derive? Certainly. However, there are other tasks at hand. Pacing slowly around where Barksdale and Ciara 'converse', the Keeper mumbles words that are not meant for the other two wolves closest. A flutter of feathers briefly reveals a bird that flies through the air and disappears from sight.
In the Umbral half of the underground area, others have gathered. While the Garou may keep some distance, these others have no compulsion to maintain distance. Spirits. Banes. Terrible and ghastly. All manner of nightmares that live amongst the wolves begin to gather, to attempt to touch, drawn in by the distress and the insight. These spirits need to be made distant or else their influence might disrupt the vision. As such, Azoth's best friend, a Greater Jaggling Whippoorwill, aims to accomplish this task immediately. It is the very same creature that watches over Azoth in his times of Greater Oculus.
<<Do not hesitate to pry further, Brother. The trance will not last and, once it is done, the young Theurge will require rest and food. She will either endure the strain of your pressure or not. You will learn nothing more otherwise.>>
"Four, Seven, Six, Nine? Is this an address or streets? Is there a street name?" he rumbles to her, <OOC> Barksdale says, "ack more, trying again" <OOC> Azoth offers some duct tape. "Four, Seven, Six, Nine? Is this an address or streets? Is there a street name?" he rumbles to her, "Get me the information I seen and you will have sweet rest, without it maybe I give you to your Lady Aife." isnt he empathetic? How nice, "If we are to be first I want more...the factory, are their signs? What sort of factory? I must find it...find them." Ciara rolls onto her back, the bleeding glyph on the inside of her thigh even more visible as the white panties come into view, as the t-shirt rolls up over her stomach as she wriths on the ground. The whines stars to turn into growls and her eyes has taken a yellow hue, and her teeth seems sharper then those perfect Pentex teeth to present a corporate smile she usually has. "Fourty Seven and Sixty Nine." she groans as she arches her back once more. "Full moon..Gal..galoob..Red on white..Brick, metal over." she digs her fingers into the ground beside her and growls. Clearly she is in pain, as the drool starts to turn into froth instead <<She wants her dead, she wants her intestines. In the entrails of the bright one, DEATH, it must die. Can't..can't let them, have it..>>
The Blind Seer comes to a stop not directly behind where Ciara jerks and spasms on the cold stone floor, but at her 'flank' just off to the side and behind. His nose points her way yet his white blank eyes see nothing. His radar dishes for ears focus intently with full preparation to swivel away and flatten if there is any screaming. Screaming happens. He would know. The end of his pipe is placed to his drooling muzzle and a smooth pull of smoke fills his mouth. In this, he says nothing. Azoth purely observes, but does so of both halves of reality with the help of his spirit friend.
After words are spoken, amidst the flurry and fury, Uncle Azzy offers one last piece of advice. <<She is repeating herself. You must choose whether to push for different details or risk breaking her. She may even lose control to her Beast and rampage.>> Quieter, he adds in wruffs and growls, <<This is not a safe place to be thrown into a frenzy.>> No extra details needed, right?
Barksdale lowers down, kneeling half atop her as he repeats, "Forty seven, sixty nine. We wont let them have it..." he promises to her, whether he means it or not is a different story, "Is there anything else? Who else is after it...what does it look like...the more you give me, the more I can ensure you serve your Urges desires." Those yellow eyes fixes on Barksdale, her lips turns into a snarl as she lies there. <> she growls. <> she growls. "47th and 69th. Galoob in red on white on building." she reverts to her normal speech for a moment and then snarls loudly once more as her face starts to shift. <<She burns..The Lion roars, the child is of blue painted warriors, the Lion dancer with a snow wolf.. She is sooo pure>> "Thats it!" the Philodox is growing pleased with the cliath. "47th and 69th. Industrial. Red on white building. Galoob." he repeats the location. "A pure child dancing with the lion. A red brown wolf...follower of Nerigal. War? Get of Fenris?" he wonders out loud. "Snow fields and fear."
"Barksdale," comes a name in Homid tongue, difficult as it may be to pronounce with a throat made for very different sounds, as Azoth turns an ear to 'look' his way. <> clarifies the Crinos as he kneels beside the prone young she-wolf. How would Azoth plan to do such a thing? He reaches out with a bare-furred hand toward her face, a gesture she might remember from before were she of a present mind and not befallen with the burden of such sight. <> Azoth is already very broken; what's a few more cracks? <<But she's still just a pup.>>
However, Azoth does not take his planned action unless the Philodox makes that judgment, as is his role. Azoth kneels at the ready.
You paged Brick with 'The PrP thingy? It's ok' Brick pages: Cool From afar, Brick woulda come but is workin Ciara continues to dig into the ground beneath her, nails have broken and blood is seeping into the ground as she wriths and groans there on the ground. <<Red brown wolf, meadow and pipes. Son of Nergal. Snow, mountains, makes giants trembles, a daughter of dual wolves.>> she growls. <<Ga galoob, red on white.>> the growls turns into a hyena like cackle as her face starts to contort, change into that of a lupine beast.
"Bring it to an end." Barksdale agrees looking up at Azoth. "No need to push her beyond her capabilities." be decides as he settles in at her side and then roses to step back, making room for the Theurge.
Azoth loses one Magical Essence <---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======---> Azoth rolls Intelligence + Medicine vs 3 for 6 successes. +6 +6 +7 +8 +9 +9 <-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
For as ugly and terrible as the deformed Metis is, the notion of restoring her -- pulling her from her vision -- is remarkably gentle. A touch to the brow is all it takes. A gift meant to mend and soothe also restores and brings balance. It is NOT a gift that many of Azoth's kin possess. Bare fingers lower to touch against the brow with amazing aim, to lightly touch and sweep across, as a focus for the mind and the eyes and the ears. The result is not guaranteed, but the properties of such a act will, at the least, also reduce the physical detriments to the body from the stress of such an experience.
After that simple act, Azoth replaces his pipe to his toothy mouth and simply waits.
The warmth floods through Ciara and as the pain ebbs off so does the visions and her body goes limp as a soft sigh escapes her lips. Froth still pooling at the corners of her mouth, eyes still with a hellow hue to them she remains lying still with the two large t-shirt rolled up to reveal half of her left breast, the panties jumbled and could for anyone willing to see notice a small patch of hair. It's even soo that the wound on the inside of her thigh heals up, yet it leaves a thin white scarrification barely noticable of Angu on her skin. "fooour....seeeven..." she brings a sleepy hand up to wipe her nose, leaving a smear of blood from her now healed fingers the blood is still there. "soo briiiight." <OOC> Ciara says, "Pauses the LOG there, hope the prophetic thingy was ok, I had to wing it a bit. ;)"
