DeadMansHand[continued from Catscratch Fever] "As much as I want to--I can't say that I blame you," Cynwyd returned. "So, we really don't have a true idea of the extent of any of these--is that what I'm getting? Why do prophecies have to be so obscure?" he added, annoyed. Caine sipped his coffee, "So they can provide the sage deniability." Rhea circled around the room, filling cups. "Do we need to combine all the elements into one force, or perhaps they will all play separate roles during the final conflict?" Pelageya gratefully nodded at Rhea's offer, and sipped more of the coffee. "I'm having trouble imagining," Cole said, "how we combine the sword and the spear in any way that won't destroy their useful stabbiness properties." Rhea looped her hair with a finger, thinking. "Then they must play separate roles, I'll bet. Battlefields can be large. Maybe Dworkin sees the Event in its entirety, rather than individual moments?" [Cynwyd] "Last time we tried to mix things without a recipe, a lot of stuff went 'boom', if I recall correctly--I don't really want to go through that again..." "Who does?" Pelageya agreed. "As efficacious as it might have ultimately been, it is not a procedure to repeat twice." She pursed her lips, sipped more coffee. "Something has occurred to me now. How much, ultimately, does the Nyx know, well, of us?" The dragon chuffed slightly, "Nothing. Everything. To the Primordials, we are little more than dust motes - visible, but easily dismissed. But she will affect all, worm her way into their thoughts and nightmares. There will be nothing she does not know." "That's what I thought," Pelageya said. "We've few or no secrets from such a being." Random nodded, "So, godlike baddie. Got it. So, we use this broken jewel like a battery. Pattern Magick? Trump workings? All of the above?" "It's a replica of the Eye of the Serpent, correct?" Cole asked. "That would mean that it's not directly tied to the Pattern: it's tied to the three-dimensional pattern in the Jewel, of which our Pattern is a shadow. It could be used for anything: it should be compatible with the Logrus as well." Random jerked a nod, "Check out the big brain on Brad. The Jewel was originally the Eye of the Serpent until granddad stole it. A facsimile would probably be even more compatible with the Logrus." Cole smirked at Rhea. In an undertone he told her, "'Big brain' nothing: it's Finndo's memories. I have memories of a few folks in this room wearing diapers." Rhea laughed quietly, "Now there's an advantage, if I've ever heard one. Shame goes a long way in this Family." She gave a mock frown,"Though I shudder to think of Fiona in diapers. I always envision her coming out of a crocodile's nursery." "If made that way," Pelageya said, "one could make a facsimile more oriented to the Pattern." Goosebumps ran along her flesh at the thought. "One would have to Walk fairly near the Chaos end of Shadow to find it ... originally," Temnal pointed out, as vague memories rose in him of doing exactly that. Pelageya recalled her experience of walking the Logrus. It wasn't so much a physical experience, as a mental. The Walker entered a dark dream, trying to make sense of the non-Euclidean geometry of the Logrus. If they survived the experience, they could access the deeper Mysteries of Chaos. If not, they simply phased out of existence... or were warped into something not meant to live. She'd obviously survived the experience, realizing she might have a good chance at navigating a Broken Pattern—being trained to compensate for the 'randomness.' Temnal, similarly, recalled constructing the Broken Pattern. That experience provided him with deep insights into the fractures and flaws within the jewel. The constraints of Reality meant little to him, and it would take only a little effort to combine its potential with a Trump Construct. With another Artist and someone skilled at Logrus, there was no telling what he... they... could accomplish. Caine turned to look at Cynwyd, "Logrus can be utilized to see aspects of Chaos and Entropy, can it not?" Pelageya started to nod at Caine's question, but turned to let him speak in turn. "The Logrus can be used similarly to The Pattern as a lens," Cynwyd said, trying to put it in familiar concepts. "The extent of which is just as dependent on skill and study as it is with the Pattern.” "What did you have in mind?" Cywnyd queried. Caine stubbed out his cigar, "You may be able to use your powers to determine where to strike this creature, in order to weaken it. With the Logrus, you'd have a greater advantage than us for seeing its vulnerabilities. And its strengths. That'd place you in an excellent position for managing our troops." "Yep," Cole nodded, "Just tell me where to stab." Gillian slipped in through the doorway. Not wanting to interrupt the discussion already in progress, she made a point to catch Random's eye so he knew she was present, then headed back to the buffet along the wall for snacky foods and drink. Random nodded in welcome, gesturing for her to join the discussion. "Our Trump expert is here," he pointed out to the others. "So, I guess that means all of the aforementioned portions of the Prophesy are here." Gillian paused and turned to stare at the others, her expression quizzical. "Prophesy?" Rhea chimed in, "Now that you mention it, that does raise an interesting point. Only those people were mentioned. Does that mean the rest of us will be... well, inconsequential? Or worse?" "Hardly," Pelageya nodded to Random and then looked at Rhea. "Even if the prophecy specifies certain individuals and items, including ourselves, a prophecy is the finest of blades, cutting a keen sharpness infinitely thin, and the bluntest of instruments, taking no note of what else is needed or necessary to ensure their completion, but those requisite elements required all the same to forge it into shape. "History records the name of the magister militum and other key figures in a battle. It may not record the name of every hellmaiden decanus or even primus pilus, but they are there, and their efforts are crucial to success. The prophecy cannot succeed without all of our efforts, named or not. "The Chaosians here," [Pelegeya] gestured to Cynwyd and Temnal and then placed a hand on her chest, "may well be able to use, attune, access that broken jewel, if it’s chaotic *enough*. We'd come from it from a perspective of its flaws, its chaotic broken parts rather than trying to navigate its intact portions." "What prophecy?" Gillian asked, joining the group while balancing her plate and drink. "What broken jewel? Sorry I've been out of the loop, but if I may ask, what is the current plan?" "This is the broken jewel," Temnal replied, holding it up for Gillian to see. "The plan is what we're trying to work out right now." "Maybe if Cole could quote the whole thing," Cynwyd interjected, "Gillian might see something that we all have missed." He nodded in Gillian's direction as he took another pull from his glass. "Da, spasiba, Cole." Pelageya said, with a touch of the old Joao in her voice. "If you would, perhaps Gillian would see what we have not." Random smirked, “And really emphasize the Serpent in the pants.” Rhea groaned, “For the love of…” "Not to contradict His Majesty," Cole said, dryly, "but it seemed Dworkin was making an assessment more than a prophecy. He told me and Rhea we had all the tools we need to defeat the Nyx." He closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to recall the words precisely. "He said, 'You have the Sword. The Traitor has the Broken Jewel. The Witch holds the Card. The Maiden has the Dragon. The Prodigal Son has the Serpent. And the Ranger carries the Spear. Together, you are ready for the trials to come. Separately and together, you shall try and die. Or not. Boop.'" "Um, don't put too much on the 'boop' thing. He was saying that a lot." Gillian scowled. "Did he really say 'defeat'? The man told me SEVERAL times that the Nyx could not be defeated. I REALLY wish he was more consistent in his language. When we have so much riding on this it's infuriating." "Um," Cole said, uncertain, "I don't think he used the word 'defeat' specifically. He just said that we had what we needed. He was saying that the End was near, and you could hear the capital 'E' in the way he said it. He said he couldn't see beyond tomorrow: there was nothing, oblivion. Claimed it was both comforting and disconcerting. But we sort of bribed him by telling him that if everything ended tomorrow he wouldn't get any of our wedding cake, and then he told us we had what we needed." Rhea blushed faintly, feeling her father's eyes upon them. She coughed politely, trying to deflect the impending questions. "I believe he was referring to our future encounter, rather than meaning a truly final defeat of the Nyx. I don't think it's even possible, considering its nature. And from what we've been told." [Gillian] popped a strawberry into her mouth and stewed about Cole's recounting for a moment before continuing. "Well, I don't know, but I'll throw an idea or two out. I've spent the last week or so my time in a slow shadow researching the Nyx and there was one thing that kept resurfacing: She Who Waits Below demands sacrifice to keep the gate shut. And beyond Achlys is Nothing. With a capital 'N.' "That said, Dworkin named all of the Scoobies specifically. He didn't include anyone else, notice--just us. What do we have in common? We're all technically dead already, and we're all joined to a dead royal." Gillian paused and looked over at Pelegeya. "Or were. But still joined to someone dead. "She who I am joined to now was similarly dead," Pelageya pointed out. Random shivered, "That will never cease to be creepy." "So maybe one of the somethings we have in common will be something we all sacrifice, like the Deepwalkers sacrificing their immortality." Gillian shrugged. "As for the items mentioned, maybe we all come together and form some sort of huge magical mecha and duke it out with the Nyx in the waters over Rebma." "I hope you're right. Any plan that has 'mecha' in it will be cool, even if it ends in horrible death," Cynwyd quipped. "If you've got to go out, at least look stylish while you're doing it." "I do actually like this plan," Cole said. "Though I prefer it without the horrible death part." Random clapped excitedly, "I've watched every episode of Robotech, so count me in on this mecha thingie plan." Pelageya snorted at Gillian's thought. "Come together and fight the Nyx in the form of a magical mecha? That would be a battle worthy of a hellmaiden." She laughed again and then sobered. "One of the things, Gillian, we debated before you arrived was if we could only banish or abjure the Nyx as the most we could hope to accomplish against such a foe." "Prophecies have a long history of being useful only in hindsight," said Malachi. "I think we need to worry less about what the mad old mage intended and more about what we are going to do about the Nyx. My armies will slow her down, but not for long. What can we do with the Jewels that might really hurt her? They represent Order and she is Dissolution in the flesh. Can they be used to trap her? To kill her?" Rhea tapped her chin, "Kill. Highly doubtful. But again, Gillian mentioned sacrifices appeasing this entity. If we dumped the Broken Jewel down its gullet, the damned thing might choke to death for all the possibilities contained therein. Or put it to sleep indefinitely." Caine nodded, taking out another cigar. "You are finally coming into your own, my niece." "Even if it were possible, destroying the Nyx would probably not be good for the universe," Temnal said. "Trapping or decoying her, on the other hand... That might be enough of a 'defeat' to count, without being total," he went on with a glance at Gillian. He added, "I still want to talk to Sand about how she created that Trump trap. And why." "Interest," Sand said from the room's corner. She'd not entered through the main doors, nor had anyone noticed her until now. "When you could have the Steward of the Logrus at your disposal, isn't that more than enough of a reason to capture him? Think of all the knowledge you can pluck from that mind." Pelageya nibbled her lip at Sand's unannounced, and unexpected appearance. She pushed away from the wall, hand resting over her blade. "And might I ask where my Trophy is?" "Though your help was timely- and that timing does bring other questions. And essential- again, questions," Cynwyd said idly. "I don't remember you being the one to shed blood over it. So maybe the concession 'our Trophy' would be at least ... polite?" Sand examined Cynwyd for a moment, "And had I bled that night, would the rights of Possession be less in question?" She flexed her hand around the sword-hilt. "No matter. It'll return to me in time. If anything, we can be a patient lot." "And how does one interrogate a prisoner so bound without risk of release or mental combat?" Pelageya asked idly. "We've all been leery of touching it, or even naming the one trapped in it, for that very reason," Temnal pointed out. "And with good reason," Sand replied. "But my skill at Trumps extends beyond the boundaries that you understand." Her eyes drifted to Gillian, "Even my fair sister can't know all things regarding her creations." She moved to the food table, and began fixing herself a plate. "Let us say that I have my own methods and means." Random coughed politely, "And you'll use them for the betterment of Amber, of course?" His voice ended with a hooked edge. Sand caught the ice there, and bowed her head. "Of course. My King." "It's not a blemish on your abilities if we doubt your abilities to keep him prisoner," Cole said to Sand. "Even our father failed to keep his opposite member contained. For my part, I'm content for you to do with him what you will, *after* the present crisis with the Nyx is resolved. I would not risk having to face both of them at the same time. Unless you have some plan to use him against her, perhaps?" "Having him take Oberon's place would have a certain justice to it," Temnal remarked. "Though of course *that* was voluntary, from what I understand." "But would that be a poisonous fruit, to have an involuntary..." she furrowed an eyebrow "sacrifice. Or does will and desire play no part in that?" "Ideally, it should," was Temnal's opinion, "if that's not always how it plays out in the world." "No," Malachi said firmly. "I won't be a party to that. What happened to the old King shouldn't happen to anyone, not even the master of the Dark Hour. We need to find another way." Random nodded to this; Caine frowned darkly. The King spoke first, "I've long learned that two evils rarely cancel one another out. We learned that with my wayward brother. He may have been insane, but his death only brought further suffering." Caine frowned all the more. The King added, "And I am not about to explain to our good Chaosian Emperor that I used his Elder as psychic spackle." As the others pondered Sand's words... Cynwyd pondered the woman herself. Finally, he spoke up. "You do enjoy this way too much... doling out information as some sort of sphinx that knows more than everyone in the room." Shaking his head he sighed. "You wouldn't have come here if you didn't already have a plan in place," Cynwyd observed, his attention fully on her. "So quit playing, and out with it. We're sort of short on time, you see." Sand cocked her head, "Until Malachi informed me of the Nyx's impending arrival, my only plans focused on crushing Kashfa and its mad king." She wiped her espresso, "And I agreed with the King and Malachi. I've witnessed far too many innocent Janosh-El and Katayan being used to fuel Rinaldo's trump-gates. I shall not condone his genocide by utilizing the same techniques." She glanced up at Gillian, "Did you find what you sought, sister? The Incarnation?" Pelageya turned her attentions to Gillian at Sand's question. Gillian looked mildly surprised at her sister's choice of words. "Um...yes. I have the trump. Any thoughts as to the best way to use it?" "Incarnation?" Cole asked. "Incarnation of what?" Sand sat down, hugging her coffee cup - revealing the faint bloodstains on her hands. “The Hanged Man,” she said. Rhea leaned forward, “That term has been tossed around a few times now.” She looked at Gillian, as if waiting on an explanation. Gillian seemed reluctant to talk about it. The dragon in the room chuffed, “Yes. I believe it is the key to our success. An Incarnation, if I am correct, is reflected throughout Shadow. And, in kind, draws energy from those reflections.” "A current that runs back and forth, both directions," Pelageya said, nodding, understanding. "Cole said the Old King was hanging upside-down when he encountered him," Malachi noted. "Is this like that?" "That fits the image on the card, yes," Temnal recalled. Sand nodded, "Indeed. The image is of a man suspended from a cross or gallows by one foot. Although the unenlightened consider the image to be a pittura infamante, in truth it represents sacrifice and inner harmony." She swirled the brackish coffee in her cup, adding, “’And he shall know that after the sacred Mystery of Death there is a glorious Mystery of Resurrection.' "So, I am not surprised that Cole witnessed Oberon manifested thusly, considering the Dark Hour's propensity for Imagery and Metaphor. As distasteful as such a thought may be," she concluded, frowning. "That said, it is not a representation of martyrdom. So, cast aside any intents of self-sacrifice." Gillian looked up sharply at Sand. "You can sacrifice a lot without dying," Cole observed. "A quick martyrdom seems to me much preferable to hanging for years and wasting away like Oberon did. Dying for someone can be easier than living for them." Cynwyd jerked his head towards Cole, a bit taken aback. "Princess, it seems you have been having an effect on Cole. Good job... but it does go both ways. So if you feel the impending need to stick anything with a bladed object, be wary..." "She seems to prefer smashing to stabbing," Cole replied with a grin. "And when she does, she's not the one that needs to be wary." Rhea grimaced under the attention, wringing her hands. “I’d rather not engage in further violence. I’m still trying to get the blood out from under my fingernails.” She shook her head, “But… I needed to know he couldn’t hurt anyone else.” Random leaned forward to touch her shoulder, nodding silently. She sighed deeply. The King turned to everyone else, “Alright. Metaphor and philosophy aside, I’m gathering we can use the Trump as a sacrificial Energizer bunny. Not sure how, but those aren’t the kind of cards I’m well-versed in. So, the Artists in the room need to sit down and make this happen.” Rhea began to stand up, “Then, with your leave, Sand, Gillian and I will do as you’ve asked.” Random nodded, “Thank you, dear.” He addressed the remaining family members. “The rest of us need to plan on how to deal with the Nyx when it arrives. I’m not interested in people dying or feeding their souls to this thing. Those aren’t options I’m willing to concede to.” He glanced from Malachi to Cynwyd, “You’re the army men in the room. Any suggestions on how to buy our Artists the time they need without expending lives?” "That is a magick greater men than I have agonized over for eons. We shall not spend any life needlessly. But those decisions are why I have always shied away from command," he said somberly. "In that vein, however, I'd like to take an assessment of our forces and dispositions, and meet with Prince Benedict to go over our tactical options. I feel that they will, unfortunately, be fewer than we'd like." Gillian laid down her plate and walked toward Rhea, following the women out of the room. [Gillian continued in It Takes Two To Trump] |
