ZincAboutIt
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Renata regained consciously slowly, the world around her coalescing into dimness and silence. And pain. She opened one eye, then the next, feeling the cool stone of the cellar pressing against her cheek. Still laying down, she began to do a mental check of her body: her fingers and toes still worked, that was good. There was an ache in her side that indicated a bruised rib or two - hopefully nothing had cracked. She'd had the good sense to descend the cellar steps when all the barrels began turning into beads, but clearly something had thrown her off her feet anyway. Wetness coated her right arm and the right side of her face. Blood, she realized, feeling the accompanying throb in her temple where she must have cracked her head. Renata rose up onto her forearms slowly, looking around. Her clearmark had rolled into the far corner of the cellar and was sitting in the middle of a puddle of dark red wine. No one else seemed to be awake yet. She touched the cut on her head gingerly. Shallow. That was good, probably meant that the wound wouldn't kill her later. She still had her pack on, too. Bless the Heralds, she thought, moving into a sitting position and leaning against the cellar wall. A quick check of her pack revealed that nothing was too terribly rattled. Her waterskin and food rations looked alright, and the rest of her spheres were all intact. Renata removed the waterskin and took a small sip, breathing deeply. Ribs aren't cracked then, she thought, satisfied, though her right hipbone felt as though someone had flogged it with a table leg. She'd likely be black and blue across half her body. After taking a small roll of clean bandage from her pack, she used a tiny piece to clean her would with half an intact bottle of some kind of strong-smelling clear wine she found nearby. Then, she stowed the rest of the bandages away, buttoned her pack, and crawled over to fetch her clearmark. Time to see who's still alive, Renata thought grimly, holding the mark aloft and rising shakily to her feet.
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Yeah I did remember it correctly and it's still disturbing
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I may be misremembering
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It does NOT
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Thanks for the nightmares!
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Renata snatched up one of the clearmarks for light and shoved the other back into her pack, then slung the pack over one shoulder. Before she stood up, she slipped a little slender knife out of her boot, holding it tightly by her side and moving toward the middle of the group. First out was a bad idea, but she had no desire to be at the back either.
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"Feels weird down here," Aldred muttered, watching both Algorath and Mutig shake their heads as though trying to rid their ears of water. "It's the...thing," Karl said, voice low, eyes darting. "Makes it strange down here sometimes. Sound echoes sometimes, stops other times. I'll end up in a tunnel and I don't know how I got there - then the memories start to come back. Like a dream." "Like a nightmare," Reiner said, voice still strained with panic. Aldred rolled his shoulders, trying to get rid of the itch between his shoulder blades. In the back of his mind, magic thumped insistently, pulling him towards the center of the Fens. It's there, down in the depths somewhere. "Does it have any weaknesses?" Aldred asked Karl. The boy shook his head, seeming almost baffled at the very idea. Aldred chewed his lip. The gangs down here had clearly begun to worship this thing, or at the very least revere it. Terror was a particularly motivating emotion when it came to tribute, though hard to keep up for long. It was powerful, that much was clear, and every day the legend grew, feeding the thing. Still, all legends had a weakness. "Is there anything you are forbidden to bring before this thing?" He said. "Something that it hates, something you must hide from it, or risk punishment?" Reiner looked up at Aldred, then down again. "Light," he said. "At first it was hard, movin' around down here with no light. Easier now - we're used to it, I s'pose." More likely they are drawing power from this thing and don't realize it yet. That was good. It was always easier to turn a group against their little gods before they realized there was something to be gained from them. Still thinking like a Sayer. "Doesn't like coins," Karl said suddenly, as though the realization were only dawning on him now. "We gotta keep 'em covered up, always." Aldred's attention snapped back to the boy. "Coins?" Karl nodded, chewing on one filthy fingernail as he did so. "Hates 'em." "Is it the sound - the jingle?" Aldred asked. Some spirits were frightened by the sounds of metal on metal. Windchimes were often used to keep away small sprites or pixies. Karl shrugged, then shook his head. "Don't think so. Doesn't like the look of 'em." "'The blighted shine'," Reiner said. "That's what is calls 'em. Hates the newest coins most of all." Aldred considered this, musing in the dark, listening to the quiet slosh of water and the persistent, deep thrumming of magic.
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Just fyi but I will probably not be around much this weekend, I'll try and reply in a functional way to this fight but IRL is getting crazy busy.
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This is what she thinks about? Renata thought to herself as she searched through her pack, fishing out another clearmark and adding it to the first. "Lighteyes like keeping their wine nearby," she said. "Makes it easier to throw a party whenever you want, I suppose." Renata could see the appeal of keeping one's wine close - she could use a cup right now to settle her nerves a bit. The shaking was slightly less violent down here, and so far nothing had turned to mist, but she felt far from safe. Sound filtered through the walls as the building continued to groan and whine in that low, horrible way. "Do you think the Doctor is dead up there?" she mused aloud, caught somewhere between dread and hope at the thought.
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Hmm, I'd say that her magic would work poorly, but would still work. Like, she could get a vague read on it but it would be unusually dim. It's closer to an idea than a living thing, but it's beginning to "live." I guess since it can speak to people that would constitute as sapient and clever enough to demand prey. So yeah, it would work, but not well.
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Lol my dream powerset is Zinc compounding. Emotional influence plus mental speed? Uh yes.
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I get it, I'm a slowpoke sometimes so I appreciate other people gettin' the plot moving! Seriously it takes me like 20 minutes to craft 3 paragraphs
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Also relevant while I'm thinking about it: This thing that we will be fighting is amorphous in shape but is not incorporeal. It appears sort of that way but it isn't, you can get a good hold into it if you lodge deep enough into a tendril or appendage. Also, it can form its appendages into sharp stabby shapes but nothing advanced like a sword. I'm imagining it as a kind of mistrwraith-kraken type thing, but it functions kind of like a fungus. It can send tendrils out but they are all connected to the host, which is kind of this black blot of darkness. It also has a few weaknesses: light (obviously) forged steel other Natural magic (edited now that I realize this would make sense, it is weaker against other Natural constructs) mirrors (also can apply to very highly polished metal, but is less effective) Showing the host form its own reflection will effectively kill it, or deliver a mortal wound which will allow it to be finished off. Showing it its reflection is, however, very hard as it creates darkness/ is darkness. Feel free to ask any more questions about it as well, or submit suggestions or changes. This is just what I imagined it as.
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That tiny pinprick of darkness is the most unsettling thing I've ever seen, wow. Super cool.
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"Well," Aldred said, motioning to Karl, "seems like you've got your distraction. But before we go, tell me, what does it look like?" He looked each boy in the eyes, saw the well of fear there. Karl's gaze flicked towards a shadowy corner of the tunnels, then back to Aldred, but he said nothing. Aldred sighed, angry now. "Don't give me a reason to hurt you," Aldred hissed at the boy. "Do you think these four are the only ones here who have any Natural magic?" He motioned towards Mutig, Janim, Chadwick and Algorath. "Now tell me. What is it we are hunting?" Karl looked at Reiner then opened his mouth, but the older boy spoke first. "Don't look like nothin'," he whispered, the words carrying oddly clear and hollow over the soft slosh of water at their ankles. "Can't really see it, even when you're lookin' at it. Ain't right - darkness movin' that way. Out the corners of your eyes..." Aldred felt the hair on his neck stand on end. Well, he'd never heard of a creature like that before. "But it can speak to you? How?" Karl looked nervously behind him, then up at the shadowed ceiling. Darkness, Aldred realized. He's looking for the darkest parts of the tunnels, expecting this thing to be there. "It ain't right," Karl said, echoing Reiner's words. "It comes outta nowhere - outta everywhere. No place is safe, no place down here. Us gutter rats, we're stuck with it. It's always night down here, always dark. Always so dark."
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The host nodded. "I apologize. I meant no offense, Ma'am. I was just asking." Ooh, 'ma'am,' Lita thought, I could get used to that one. Lita let her features soften a little at his deference, though her posture lost none of its iron. "Well, I can hardly fault a fellow for seeking knowledge. We're all questing for truth, each in their own way, are we not? Suffice it to say that you have our attention. I'll need to speak further with my colleagues and, of course, my superiors on matters of coin. Please, excuse us." With a small smile and a slight nod she turned away from the man, leaving him to speak with the Ghostblood reps. Lita scanned the room for Laurelai, eager to discuss the conversation and any further plans of action. On her way through the crowd she snagged a little plate of vol-au-vents from a roving waiter, popping one into her mouth and chewing. Spinach and artichoke. Delicious. @Voidus
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Lita arched her brow at the man. "You're right of course, I should have been more direct. The answer to your question is , 'no, you may not.'" She crossed her arms, stepping a little further back from the host and accentuating the distance. "And while we're being direct, let's go over the last few hours, shall we? You invite us to this party under nebulous circumstances, ply us with food and wine - which, to your credit, is lovely - then, when we're fairly bursting with curiosity, you show us what amounts to a glorified slideshow and bandy about some high-level buzzwords like 'Investiture' and 'fame.' You'll tell us more, so you say, if we invest a hereto-unspecified amount of money in your company. Then, you demand that your potential benefactors hand over their personal possessions to sate your own minor curiosity." Lita swirled her glass and met the man's eyes. "Is that about the cut of it?"
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Lita watched the man's eyes follow the movements of her pen, catching the small glint of clever greed that sparked there. Rusts, she thought, keeping her face neutral. Rusting ruinous hells. She smiled at the man, resisting the urge to run to the nearest shadowed hallway and scarper it back to the Alleys. Don't be a fool, she thought, still smiling. What's he going to do, assault you for it? What kind of funding would he expect from us after that? Lita held up the pen between two fingers and let a soft laugh trip merrily into the silence, lacing it with just a bit of contempt. "I daresay you've already seen it, or you wouldn't be asking," she said, then slipped the pen back into her pocket after a moment. "What kind of scientists would we be if we didn't have quality writing implements? You never know when you'll come across something interesting that just needs to be noted down."
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Renata watched Lizanne lurch towards a small door, attempting to pull it open. "Anybody know where this door leads?" The woman called, cringing at every sound. The house continued to creak and groan. A chair in the sitting room toppled, then puffed into mist before it could hit the ground. "Almighty help me," Renata whispered, then tightened the straps on her pack and ran over to where Lizanne was struggling. The building gave a particularly violent shudder, throwing Renata against the door. It sprung inwards, nearly sending Renata and Lizanne tumbling down a set of stone stairs. The meager light spilling down revealed the dull shine of dusty glass. A wine cellar. Bless the Heralds. "Everyone get down here now!" Renata called, watching as the panes of glass in one of the front windows cracked under the strain of the wall. One of the top beams supporting the window had dissolved. She darted down, not waiting for the others, then set her back against a corner and began feeling around in her pack for a sphere or two. Her fingers found one, and as she pulled out the diamond mark a weak silvery light illuminated the wine cellar and cast everything into eerie shadow.
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"Of course," Lita said, still smiling, though a bit of irritation weaseled its way into her voice. "I'm guessing this is an investment opportunity, with shareholding options, the ability to commission and retain rights on discoveries and the like?" She dipped her chin, pouting her lips a bit and giving a delicate sigh. "I do so hate discussing money at parties - so gauche. But, needs must. If all we get out of investing in PlasmaCore are a few secrets, well, I'm afraid you'll need to give us a bit more of a tidbit than that. I can't speak for the Ghostbloods, but if it's secrets I want, we've got alleys full back at HQ." Lita flashed the host a wicked little smile. "Forgive us for not throwing handfuls of Chrysts at your feet, my good man, but I'm hardly the hand that holds the purse strings. This is a business venture, not a charity." She took another sip of wine. "So, incentivize me." Casually, she slipped her pen back out of her pocket, tapping the end against her mouth and giving it the odd twirl, careful to keep her eyes on the host's face. As I suspected, she sent to Laurelai, we've been shown the first act, but we have to pay to see the end. How badly do we want this information? I'm assuming we have absurd amounts of money if the size of your closet back in the Alleys is any indication, but how much flash can I blind this fellow with? She thought for a moment, giving the speaker a once-over and taking another sip of wine while continuing to twirl and click her pen idly. I could probably seduce something out of him, though I'd definitely need an advance bonus if that's the way you want to play it. @Voidus
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@Blessing of Potency Renata let go of the younger girl and started motioning for the rest of the guests to crowd under the crossbeam in the hallway. This won't make a bit of storming difference if the crossbeam turns to mist, she thought, but forced that out of her mind. She would not die here, in this ridiculous house. She would not. "Do you see a cellar door somewhere?" she called to the man in the puffy coats, who was still across the room. "Someplace where we can all fit?" @I think I am here.
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Charming. Lita drew her hand back slowly, smile straightening into a bit of a grimace. ”Well,” she said, swirling her glass of wine with a practiced hand, “it’s hardly my place to judge what a man does in his leisure time. However, if you’re not mixing Investiture within a body, then what are you doing?”
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Lita blinked once and resisted the urge to turn and stare at Okame, instead using the pause to take another, fortifying sip of wine. All the subtlety of a sledgehammer, that one.
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Lita turned at the voice, turning up her tin a bit and pulling the charm back into her smile. Ah, the illustrious host approaches. His smile seemed genuinely cheerful, though genuine cheer was no guarantee of good intentions. Lita flashed a rather genuine grin of her own at the Koloss-blooded fellow. Tin let her catch the slight dip in his eyes as he turned toward her and Okame. Respectful, she mused. Intimidated, or just polite? Or both? "You certainly know how to pique a lady's curiosity," Lita said, raising her glass of wine at the man. "Mixing Investiture is, as I'm sure you know, a rather large portion of our own endeavors. Suffice it to say you have our attention." She slipped the tiniest edge into that last remark, mostly because she figured he'd expect it. Not for the first time, she wished for her father's gift of emotional allomancy. "I'm sorry," Lita continued, "but I don't believe I caught your name?" She extended a hand to the man, letting her wrap slide up her arm and reveal the neat rows of spikes in her forearms. She was part of the DA, and that meant hemalurgy. Might as well let the little she had work in her favor and make an impression.
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