She grunts.
"My math grades were not that good to count that high. Although there was the month I spent as a Sergeant."
::His 'butter won't melt in my mouth' look is getting better. SI is a natural embarrassment, and having a consulting wizard is...problematic.::
"We have a single guy, early twenties, we think, barbecued in his own apartment. SI is calling it an explosion from the microwave which caught a rug on fire. But, let's just say he had some real interesting tattoos on his arms, and the rug looks burnt in the shape of a five-pointed star."
::Magic.::
"What do we know about him, other than the tattoos?"
When there is a natural lull in the conversation...
:: Ring. Mentally relay and summarize current analysis of intercepted radio communications. Pause if current conversation with this car's driver resumes. ::
I pray for wisdom and guidance and strength to see the LORD's will clearly, and to follow it faithfully.
Then I try to probe her memories to glean information about what I have done in past consulting work for her, especially details about what standard procedures I have used, deliverables I am expected to produce, etc...
"Darrin McClan, social activist by choice, courier by need, and blood donor by desperation. He got a rent-fixed apartment which I'm betting he got by special preference. He's also an on again off again student of the Humanities at Wilson College. Age 28."
She pauses.
"That is, if its him."
::A flash of a badly burned body::
==The Ring fills you in on the interests and concerns of a large metropolitan city which has a semi-functional, semi-corrupt gov't. There are, according to teh Ring, a statistically improbably number of natural gas explosions in conjunction with Special Investigations leader, Karrin Murphy. There is concern about global warming with the regularly cold nights, but the rising temperatures during the day as summer solstice approaches in a month. So far daytime temps are ten degrees above average.
Of specific interest to you are two items...
1. An advertisement on the radio. "Visit Detective and Wizard John Oakmaster at his Wedgley Road Office for help with unusual problems. No love potions. Discretion assured."
2. "Johnny Marcone, notoroious alleged criminal kingpin, released a public statement of 'no comment'. "I refuse to dignify the absurd allegation that John Oakmaster had anything to do with the burning of the Velvet Room. While he and I have our differences, we are professionals in our respective fields."
You look into Murphy's memories.
You're there as a consultant on magical issues, and to offer another brain for solving more mundane ones when you can. On occasion this goes to places where Murphy shoots and you sling fire at something dire. Murphy knows that you keep a lot from her for what you think of as her own good, and she's not sure you're wrong. After all, the things she's already seen have scarred her mind badly already.
During my briefing with the Ring, I query it about the current analysis of the known local and global religious matters, with an eye toward possible significance of the summer solstice, and possible links to the creatures seen in my precognitive vision.
And as I probe Karrin, I keep an eye open for any information that might give me insight about "the funny man", Molly, Johnny Marcone, and Oak's recent activities.
I certainly have a case before me this morning. But I may also have a far bigger case... like the mystery of my counterpart's disappearance.
And for all I know, everything could all be part of one bigger case...
And so I pray again for strength, and wisdom, and guidance, to see His will clearly, and to follow it faithfully.
OOC: No, I haven't read or watched anything like this before. But this setting is certainly an interesting one... :)
==Wiccan practitioners give a good deal of significance to this date if the lecture I am listening in on in Yorkshire is correct. It is the time of fire, and powers of the Light, and the Seelie Court. Unfortunately, there is very little proper online storage so I am limited to analysis of current broadcasts which are limited to 49 in the Windy City area, a very large number of which have to do with sports.==
Your brain search fades, and you feel a warning twinge of pain when you try to restart it. Karrin looks over at you for a second.
The car swoops up to a halt canted into the road, and you see a number of people in night clothes and blankets standing around looking dazed. Two patrol cars are already there, and the yellow tape is out.
A fat but lightfooted guy in a suit jacket and pants comes up to Murphy.
"Murph."
"Randall."
"Went home to get your toy wizard, I see."
"If I don't let him help us, he cries." Murphy says drily.
"Are wizard tears specially good for something magical, Oak?" Randall says with a smirk.
Later, they take you up to the front door with Randall peeling off to bum rush a nosy reporter off with a story about a microwave.
You walk in to the apartment. It smells like cooked meat. A dead man is laying on the floor minus his face. The rug is eerily five pointed in its hole. His arms are covered with tattoos that make your skin crawl.
Its nothing you recognize, but the malicious intent, the will to dominate and destroy is clear.
I respond to Randall's smirk and query with a good-natured twinkle in my eye, and a slight upward quirk of the right side of my mouth.
"You'd be surprised..."
While waiting to enter the apartment, I pray to the LORD for protection from evil, and for insight as to what has happened here, and for discerning eyes to see any clues and/or anything unusual (mundane or otherwise) and their nature, and for strength and healing and wisdom and guidance.
I also mentally instruct Ring for both it and CU2 to scan the scene closely, and bring any possible clues to my attention by mental communication via Ring.
Upon entering, I'm not certain whether or not I find the carnage or the tattoos more disturbing... but after the initial shock, I firmly decide upon the latter. However, I keep such reactions to myself, under a silent and grim mask.
Then I examine the crime scene, hopefully with eyes to discern anything unusual, and to investigate the nature of any such items and clues.
And then I pray, and attempt to stretch out my postcognitive senses to discern the events that have taken place here recently...
You feel a power around you that shields you from an oppression hanging in the air as you step in. You look around in the apartment, and see cheap skillets, cans of sauerkraut and sausage, ragged blankets in the closet, a small TV partially melted, and hanging up behind the bathroom door, a very nice tuxedo.
::One of these things is not like the other thing:: The Ring comments. ::Most items are indicative of a low social status, and an inferior aesthetic sense. This item of clothing is not.::
You reach back into the past, and see the man whole, coming in, grinning triumphantly with the tuxedo and a very nice envelope in his hand. He puts up the tuxedo, and leaves for a bit with the envelope. He comes back emptyhanded, and begins to dig in his crisper in the fridge. Behind the corn, he pulls out several books and some supplies. With that, he flips over his rug to reveal a pentagram sticthed into it, and begins to cast his spells.
Time passes as he continues to work, and redo, and redo his efforts, not getting it right.
Your vision fades from tiredness and time, and Murphy is staring at you expectantly.
I give silent thanks to the LORD, and rub my hand over my face wearily.
"I have not yet seen the critical moment."
My gaze wanders off toward the body, with a far away look in my eye.
"He came in, whole, grinning triumphantly with the tuxedo and a very nice envelope in his hand. He put up the tuxedo, and left for a bit with the envelope. He came back empty-handed, and began to dig in his crisper in the fridge. Behind the corn, he pulled out several books and some supplies. With that, he flipped over his rug to reveal a pentagram stitched into it, and began to cast his spells. Time passed as he continued to work, and redo, and redo his efforts, not getting it right..."
My voice trails off, before shaking my head, and regarding her again.
"I will need more time to attempt to see more..."
"Can you find the envelope?" Murphy asks as she nods at a patrolman. He steps quickly over to the fridge, and looks in, behind the corn. The patrolman calls over the evidence bagger, and the two of them pull out several leather books, and some metal containers.
It takes you another five minutes to drop into the trance. And it fails.
After my attempt, I look up at her.
"Nothing further has been revealed to me thus far."
I rub my face wearily.
"Perhaps a different approach..."
I bow my head, and pray for refreshment and restoration, and wisdom and insight.
Then I stretch out my senses, and, asking the LORD to guide me and reveal what remains hidden, seek guidance toward the current location of the envelope.
Afterwards, I try once again to reach back into the past, and see the scene during the actual death...
You feel the LORD by your side as you reach back into the past. This time, you follow the man as he walks out to his car, and puts the envelope into a hidden slot under his car seat. Then dusting his hands, and grinning he come back up, and begins again to do the magic.
This time, you are able to re-watch him do his magics. You realize he is attempting to summon an Imp of Fire under his control. Leaning on Jesus, you grit your teeth, and hang on to the vision, until you see the Imp, a creature about the size of a garbage can, and formed of fire and smoke, appear in the pentagram. The sorceror sneezes, and some of the phlegm lands on the pentagram's lines. Suddenly, the creature is through the break and on the sorceror's face.
It then turns and looks at you as the sorceror flails backwards to the rug and dies.
::Catch me if you can, Firecrown.:: It laughs at you.::I will dedicate my next kill to you.::
The vision snaps, not of your will.
Edit: Back in the present moment. OOC: +@1 to your searching the past for following someone who moved elsewhere.
My attention snaps abruptly back to the present, and I silently give thanks to the LORD for his merciful revelations.
Then I open my eyes, and regard Karrin again.
"Evil here is strong. But thankfully the LORD God Almighty is stronger."
I rub my face wearily once again.
"He put the envelope into a hidden slot under his car seat."
"Afterward, he managed to summon an Imp of Fire. But he sneezed, and some phlegm landed upon the lines of the pentagram. The Imp broke free, and went for his face, and killed him."
Karrin takes you out to find the sorceror's car, and its a beat up Yugo.
"Magicians and their cars." Karrin says with a laugh.
You open it, and fish out the contents of the slit. A .38 revolver, fifty in small bills, and a cream-coloured envelope.
"Your presence is requested at the Windshire Gallery adjacent to the Windy City Civic Center for a public gala. Please present this letter at the front."
The time it gives is eight o'clock tonight. No name of any kind, or RSVP is included.
I read the contents, and then quietly pass it over to Karrin...
She shrugs, and puts it in the evidence bag.
I wait for any further need that Karrin might have of me...
"Any ideas?" She says as you two walk back up to the front of the apartment.
I try to reestablish the link to her surface thoughts, in order to get an idea of what she might be expecting.
For things regarding this particular case seem to be rather open-and-shut, from what I've seen and described.
Unless... we are now going to chase the Imp, and bring him to justice as a murderer?...
::I suppose this falls more into Oak's problem than mine now. We've got our cover story, and this is basically 'death by being stupid'.::
"I might like to find out why he's messing around with demon summoning, and what's with the tux, but its not a high priority. Go to bed, Oak."
OOC: You've got a point.
"Sounds nice. Does this mean that I've earned my ride home?"
I listen to her response, and ponder.
"I also wonder about this demon summoning. Are you interested enough that I should try to check out this event that he was invited to, and/or more closely examine the tux?"
When there is a sufficient natural lull in the conversation (perhaps while she is driving?), I pray for strength and guidance, and again attempt to probe her, keeping an eye open for any information about Oak's recent activities, as well as "the funny man", Molly, Johnny Marcone, and any other cases related to demons...
"Yeah, but only cause taxis are hard to find at this hour. Oh. You're the PI. Bill us."
::I'll find a way to stick it in the budget.::
::This is the stuff he doesn't tell me about, mostly.::
"Yeah, find out about the envelope...tell me who's inviting sorcerors to parties."
::"I'm off to take a short vacation, Murph." Your dop says.
"Wow, a vacation. I didn't know you knew how to do that."
"Well, its hard, but I need to go on this..."
"Anything to do with Ramirez and your visit to Arizona?"
"No, don't think so. And you're not supposed to know about Ramirez."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"what's really going on?"
"Its problematic, but I think I can get a different pov on things and that may resolve the problem better than my futile efforts."
"Wow, you really do sound depressed."
"Maybe I need to call in some outside help."
"Nah, you're beyond help."
"Probably."
There is something odd about that conversation.
"Does that mean you want me to keep the invitation?"
If she wishes, I'll attempt to do some prayer and postcognition on the invitation and the tux. Also if she wishes, I'll take the invitation with me.
When probing, I continue to seek information on "the funny man", Molly, Johnny Marcone, and any other cases related to demons...
She thinks about the invitation. On the one hand, its evidence, and giving it to you means its now worthless. OTOH, you can probably do more with it than she can. She gives it to you.
You try to do postcognition and you find yourself walking in a mist of perfume, lilacs and something else. You pray over it, and you receive a definite sense of some answer is out there.
You've gotten info on your dop's last visit with her. On Molly...
"She's energetic." Murphy says.
"Yeah, well, when I was twenty I could party all night and work all day too." Your dop grouses.
"I don't understand why you didn't want her with us. You know learn by example."
You're on some sort of stakeout with Murph.
Sigh.
"Her last boyfriend was a druggie. He's not anymore."
"Oh?"
"She...fixed...him."
"And thats a major no-no, isn't it?"
"Look, Murph, you're afraid of spiders. I could change that about you. All I'd have to do is reach inside your soul, and rip it a little bit. And I'd have to believe I was right to do that in order to do the magic."
"Ah."
"Yeah."
And you're at home.
OOC: BTW, in what way(s) did the conversation my dop had with Karrin seem "odd"?
After entering the apartment, I give whatever loving attention Mouse and Mister may be needing, and get some breakfast for myself.
Then I take some time for Bible reading, and a quiet time in prayer.
And then I pray for wisdom and insight into the nature of the skull downstairs, and whoever (or whatever) is watching me from it, whether directly or indirectly...
OOC: Mine to know, yours to figure out. :)
Mister wants back inside, and she has a smug look about her. She flops down and promptly goes to sleep. Mouse takes his food and drink, and a walk up to a neighborhood park where he runs at a full-tilt sprint around the park at a terrific pace. He then pads back up to you, and leads you back to the apartment.
You pray about the skull, and realize that you felt there was indeed something in it. It did not feel explicitly malignant as a demon would.
I pray further, seeking more insight into the Watcher in the Skull. Could it be one of Oak's enemies? Could it be one of Oak's allies or colleagues? Could it be Oak himself?
Afterwards, I stretch, and take a sip of water, and walk around the apartment a bit.
Then I pray once again, and attempt to use postcognition on the invitation, trying to gain insight into those who handed it over to the deceased...
You pray for insight into the Watcher In the Skull, and suddenly you hear a voice in your head.
::I really wish you would stop doing that. By the way, my name is Roberto De Vallez Orichondo Et Mercurio...but I won't give you my whole true name. You can call me Bob.::
You have some insight now.
==========
You are rapidly reminded that the apartment is shielded against post and precognition.
But outside the ruby haze, you run into the lilac mists again. This time you recognize it as a mental barrier. Someone with considerable mental skill does not want other people spying on her.
:: Well met, Bob. You can call me John. What brings you here? ::
::I died a few centuries ago, and you got me from your 'mentor' Justin, what a scumbag, and stuck me on your shelf.:: He sounds exasperated and self-pitying. :: Now, I'm not sure why you're trying to probe me with magic, and I'm real annoyed that you've gotten behind in your supplying me with romance novels to read. You do know how boring it is to be a skull, right? Did someone blow some circuits in your head? Remember our deal?::
:: Sorry, my knowledge of things past is suffering a few gaps right now, and this old mind and memory aren't what they used to be. Could you please fill me in? ::
OOC: Am I able to sense whether or not the entity I'm conversing with is being truthful or not? Am I able to read surface thoughts, or to probe?
::Well, I am your friendly adviser Bob who you ask to find terrible secrets, reveal minutia of arcane lore,and assist you in magics so unsafe and crazy that Bedlam fears you. In return for this, you don't tell anyone else about me, and you keep me well-supplied with romance novels. If this deal, in your newly reconfigured state of mind strikes you as unfair, imagine how I feel. I have to risk blowing my circuits, and sending my immortal soul to meet my Creator when due to some tiny indiscretions in my youth in the sixteenth century, I am not entirely certain He would be happy to see me just so you can find out yet another dire threat to the City, the World, and the Fabric of Reality as we know it, or just to friends of yours. Of which I number, which is why I put up with this garbage, but where, oh, where are my romance novels?!::
OOC: That's an MJ question. This is a human spirit bound by magic to a skull. He seems fairly truthful to your intuition.
:: I'm sorry, Bob. I do think that is a fair deal, and I'll try to get you something to read right away -- today, if at all possible. ::
:: Could you please help me fill in a few more memory gaps? What has been happening lately? What is the current situation around here? What things have I been working on lately? What have I asked you about? ::
::You would. Do you think you can come downstairs so we can talk face to skull? I want you to remember this moment. Sometime in the 26th Century you're going to be sitting on some wizard's desk complaining about how he treats you, and remember back with shame. Oh, how I mistreated Bob.:: His woeful tone changes to snappish. :: Or not. You'll probably get blown into so many tiny pieces they'll have to get an air filter to gather you up.::
::The trashier the better, please.::
There is a long pause after your last set of questions.
::Hmm. I seem to have some memory gaps myself. Specifically, the whole last month. And from the damage field, it looks voluntary, as if I agreed to this. What does this mean?::
:: Hmmmm. It would seem that recent gaps are there for some purpose... ::
:: What was the situation when you last remember? What had I been working on, and/or asking you about? ::
I move downstairs as we converse mentally, so we may do so face to skull.
And after he responds...
:: Let me see if there is anything that can be done to shed light on more recent events... ::
I pray for wisdom and discernment, and attempt to focus my postcognitive senses upon the skull, looking back over the period where the memory gap is...
That's an MJ question. This is a human spirit bound by magic to a skull. He seems fairly truthful to your intuition.
I'm guessing the question is whether Oak can use mind reading to read the mind of a human spirit connected to a skull.
Multiverser is intentionally vague about the distinctions between mind and brain, and for this reason. If the creature can think, it has a mind that can be read, even if it doesn't have an organic brain. Therefore the answer is yes, Oak can use mindreading skills on it. Detecting truth and lies can be based on other aspects, and so someone would have to be clear exactly how that particular skill works (obviously a skill which works by monitoring changes in body function is not going to work on the skull), but if all Oak wants to do is see whether the thing is thinking one thing while saying another, that's simple enough.
The other question is whether the target mind is human. I'm assuming that it is, and that Oak has contacted it with a form of Telepathy to Humans. However, telepathy to humanoids and telepathy to aliens exist so that those skills can work without penalty, and reading the mind of a humanoid or alien takes appropriate penalties (see level one psionics; I'm not sure off the top of my head, don't want to misquote, and don't want to crash my computer yet again by opening the PDF of the rules--not sure where my printed copy is at the moment, but I think half of it fell behind the shelves here).
If that's not the question, please clarify.
--M. J. Young
OOC: That is the question, and thanks MJ.
You can read Bob's mind.
'tiny indiscretions' comes out as ::stupid, but fun bits of Black Magic::
He seems to be telling you the truth, if not perhaps all the truth.
Down you go into the working room, and you see the skull with its eyes glowing orange.
"Well, you were going on a date with Sarah. Up to the top of Hardison Tower. You were telling me to shut up about my advice on how to kiss a girl. And then you left. Working on...well, we'd just finished dealing with the murders on LSD, and the several forms of werewolves you met. You were trying to track down with a detection spell this lady's purse as it was a slow week, and cash is cash."
You reach out your post-cognitive senses, and are suddenly gripped by such a powerful vision that you black out. Upon waking, all you can remember is fire and the phrase 'the ladies three give the weird' and 'ok.' after it.
I pray earnestly for the LORD's healing and refreshing, and protection and strength to perceive and discern what has taken place during the period of memory gap.
Then I attempt once again to stretch my postcognitive senses toward the skull, and the time of unknown events...
Surrounded by shining light, and filled to the brim with power, you step, so it seems into the past. Immediately, you are assailed by winds, black and obscuring, which drive you to your knees. Praying, you rise to your feet, and trek onward.
A flicker of light, and you see the Windy City whole until a trumpet blows.
The winds change direction suddenly, and you fall into a hole in the ground that they drive you into.
There's another flicker of light, and you hear a tear-strained female voice backed up by fire engine sirens.
"KBNU News. So, far, the police are estimating twenty thousand dead from the terror..."
The winds are circling the top of your twenty foot pit and dumping black rocks into it as if to bury you.
As these events unfold, my mind fastens onto the following passage of Holy Scripture...
I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.
Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.
He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.
Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day;
Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.
A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee...
:: Dearest LORD, there are evil forces against me, but I know that you are with me, and that you have brought me here, and that you have the power to overcome. Help me now to do your will, in spite of any opposition, to your glory alone. I pray in Jesus' Name... Amen. ::
And with that, I attempt to teleport out of the pit, at a safe distance from the rocks.
If unsuccessful, I then attempt to telekinetically lift myself out of the pit...
Your spirit calm, and buoyed by the Presence, you 'teleport'. Its not actually teleportation you know as this is some sort of vision.
Clear of the pit, the wind dies.
The day turns sparkling and cloudless blue.
A strawberry blonde girl in a ragged jean jacket and jeans with a tie-dyed t-shirt walks over the top of the green hill in front of you. She has a notepad in her hand.
"Give me my secret, cutie, and I'll let you by."