[identity profile] ancalagon-tb.livejournal.com
(note: post in progress!)

Folks, this is how I recall our rulings, and the spirit behind them. Please feel free to comment.

Ruling no 1:
Magic will only be possible by a conscious act of will. The spirit behind this decision is that we want to avoid people casting spells by mistake - no more angry people spontaneously shooting fireballs, or people plagued by visions. This imply that some kind of training may be required. I believe that "self training" should be possible.

Ruling no 2:
Magic for all.
The magical potential of people will not be limited by race anymore, and everyone has the potential to wield magic. Of course, natural talent and especially the dedication of the practitioner will have a huge impact on the level of potency of magic someone actually wields.

Ruling no 3:
Erin shall be preserved - ie status quo. The group has no objection over the slow natural formation of other "sentient lands", such as Pico Island. (We thought about it being quicker, but then grew worried about nationalistic idiocy)

Ruling no 4:
The veil, the void, and monsters. We were uncomfortable with the implications of changing the rules regarding this issues. We admit that while humanity may have lost something primal and strong, we also won civilization out of it, so the status quo stands.

Ruling no 5:
Demons should be able to breed with one another or humans and have children. The psychological needs to destroy their parents should not be imposed (and should be lessened? eliminated?). It is expected that because of their smaller numbers, they will eventually "dilute out" in humanity, but if they don't that's fine (ie, let their choices and nature take its course). A similar reasoning should apply to changelings. However, the fertility reducing effects on pure blood "strangers" (shee, angels, evil fish people etc) should stay in place.

Ruling no 6:
The formal magical communities of princely ties will be replaced by "magical communes". If they so wish, people with magical ability can pool their energies to do something greater than they could achieve alone. However, the bond between them exists for the specific endeavor only and is not permanent. A "circle leader" will be needed, someone able to handle the extra power. (I would imagine that special training could be required for bigger efforts*). We felt that the need for this leader would limit the ultimate potential of what spells could be enacted - ie don't let a big circle of crazies blow up the moon.

Please feel free to comments folks

*The way I see it, a small group of weaker practitioners could get together and so something of some potency without any of them having special training. However, the special training would become necessary when people want to exceed the natural limit of 40 AP.
[identity profile] ancalagon-tb.livejournal.com

I was delighted to see that my spell proved successful, even when severely assaulted by the radiation at the crater site, and that Nev returned unharmed. The uncontrolled drooling side effects seems to be specific to chickens, thankfully.

My delight proved short lived. I do not know if Nev's insistence on flying instead of sending the gull, or if we strayed too close from shore, but a rowboat was seen heading for us. It seems that some people have survived on the island for the last 27 years! How they have survived for so long is beyond me. They must be fishing or somesuch.

While the boat inched towards us, Nev describe the crater, which is littered with blue crystals we have determined are some sort of magical battery - probably a leftover from D'ange's infernal contraption. Nev also described some sort of tower that flight magical energy or electricity towards the gate. He also detailed what seems to be like a crash site - this would be revealed to be the final fate of one of the angel cities. Apparently, the explosion at the gate damaged it, and gremlins inadvertently sabotaged it beyond all repair.

This sorry delegation asked for our help and news of the outside world. One of them, a rotund simpleton by the name of Ticky, obviously suffered from horrible brain damage induced by magical radiation. Killing him would be an act of mercy. That they would bring such a buffoon along is an obvious sign of duplicity - he is obviously meant as a distraction or to make us underestimate them. Or he could be some kind of idiot-savant with a potent trick up his "sleeve". Either way, they bear close watching.

We decided to send a boat on the shore to bring the hapless mass some medical supplies. We were lead by one of the crew members. While she was prancing around like a hussy, the rest of us tried to assist the natives. I met a delightful young man who apparently was one of D'ange students! I tried to get as much information from him about the gate, but much of his equipment was damaged by the magical radiative spike. He also seems to have some knowledge of healing magic, a trick that I would be eager to learn from him. Some pathetic broken angels needed my assistance. I was magnanimous and spared their lives - I guess they had no way of knowing of their horrible crimes against my family and my person. It was this incident that showed me that my potential new friend had magical healing skills as this prompted them to provide succor to the landbound wretches. (Why had he not done so before puzzles me). I suppose these angels, survivors of the crash, were too injured to fly out to the other 2 angel cities. The fact that said cities didn't send down a craft for them speaks loudly of their lack of humanity.

While we did this, Nev and Gawen explored some more. Nev was still covered by my spell, and I warned him that I might have to remove it if I needed magic urgently, but he didn't seem to understand the concept. Thankfully, that did not prove to be problematic. He did encounter a gremlin of freakish large size (well over 2 feet!) that was eating the magical "battery-crystals". I believe I could write a tome on the implications of that! Of much more interest, he witnessed what I can only guess to be an exploration attempt from the other side - a small, damaged craft with a single angel came from the gate - the pilot did not survive the journey. Nev promptly returned to the ship, attempting to stay out of sight.

In the meantime, I decided to explore too, and used the forbidden words of changing to summon my esteemed colleague to assist. We explored the waters local to the ship, and were alarmed by the number of large, obviously mutated predatory looking beasts in the water. We were thankfully unacosted. One I saw may have been Jasper in one of his many forms... such things are hard to determine. What was not hard to determine was the deplorable state of the dimensional fabric - like cheesecloth most alarmingly!

I reported my findings, and the dead angel pilot was examined. We determined that he was not of the 2 known angel cities. This is evidence of my working theory on the workings of the trans-dimentional gate, one that I will elaborate upon at a later time. We know know that the gate is *almost* passable, and that angels on the other side are still attempting to pass.

We took onboard as many refugees as we could - a mix of representatives, persons with useful knowledge and the sick and infirm. We promised to return.

During the night, one of us overheard Jasper talking saying that the true purpose of the visit had not gone noticed by us. We are unsure if this little overhearing was staged. Discussions with the ex-student, Dingo, revealed that he could communicate with some kind of fungal organism common on the island - leaked angel biotech. While this could be of great value on our struggle against the angels - or aliens should I say, as the ex-student called them, delightfully term. However, I fear that such an organism could cause an ecological, or even pathological, disaster on earth - who knows of how many survivors on the island who perished early died due to this fungus instead of the effects of the radiation?!? I suppose thought that in the end, this is a price we must pay. The lives of hundreds of millions are but dust when compared to the utter destruction of our dimensional matrix.

We took the trip through the storm again, in a fashion I guess could be best described as skimming the edge between the dimensions. I had concerns - we were told by Kevin that because of his radiation poisoning, travel to underhill could be fatal to him. One of the refugees did pass away during the trip - ah well. It seems that the transdimentional cognitive disturbance are much more intense below deck. Some of the others were quite affected. I, being used to such travails and possessing a clear, willfull mind, was not bothered of course. I must admit that once all of this is over I must study this type of magic more, I suspect I would be well suited to it.

We reached our destination without too much trouble, but we did warn the proper authorities about the potential risk. More medical tests are in our future, alas.
[identity profile] ancalagon-tb.livejournal.com
excerpt from "Warnings of a Clear-Eyed Madman - The Declarations of Julien Flammel", assembled by Julia Thompson, Metaphysical Free Press, London, 2070, p. 477-478.

"We are but shadows.

What we call reality is but a pale reflection of a greater order of things, a superior state of being. What we call the universe is but a small soap bubble in which one can see faint, distorted images of far greater things. We are shadows cast upon a wall.

In our ignorance, we believe that we are free, unaware of our state, powerless to escape it. We are not doomed to impotence however - if we have the Will. Magic is the answer. As a shadow may startle its owner (or someone else) and make him jump, through magic, we can change the greater reality, and by doing so change the image it casts. The greater the Will, the greater the magic, the greater the change in our world. All measures, all laws restricting our use of magic are therefore attempts to stop us from the greatest expression of free will this reality allows us.

One could say that no greater spell has ever been cast than the great gate that allowed the angels to spread their tyranny over Europe. Perhaps. But what people failed to realize is HOW this was accomplished. The angels, potent yet blind, bended the bubble. And the gate remains open, putting immense strain on the very fabric of reality. Should the bubble burst, the wall crumble, the very surface upon we shadows dance... reality - our reality, will cease to exist. And while it may be a thin reflection, it is all the reality we have. The gate must be closed at all cost, lest we perish.

So to all of you who understand, who can exert your will... fight the angels with all your heart. Can we afford to let these tyrants have another chance at breaking the world?"
[identity profile] ancalagon-tb.livejournal.com

it seems that deviant art has some startlingly good/on topic stuff for some of our characters and NPCs...


My character (ok he has hair but):

Sample of the guy's angel work:

it's worth taking a look!
[identity profile] ancalagon-tb.livejournal.com
The Library was quiet.

Siméon, Seraphim of but a few years experience, smiled nervously. His angel mentor desired him to retrieve some old book from the library at the Université Paul Cézanne. It had been founded in the late middle ages and had several ancient texts. His mentor had made clear that this was not an usual mission, and stressed to him the importance of retrieving the text *quietly*. Better to fail and try again than to alert the resistance of the existence or importance of the work, or that it had been taken.

Siméon had done his work well. He had plans of the security systems - truly basic, it was almost quaint - and knew how to avoid it completely. He had arranged for a janitor to be arrested for some trifling matter, and acquired the keys. He knew the appearance of the book, a small text called "Of the Lesser Alchemic Key" and in which storage room it could be found. His mentor had not made it clear why it was so vital to keep it out of the wrong hands but... he owed much to the wise old angel, and found no reason to question his judgment.

The room should just be ahead... but why was there light ahead? Someone... reading an old text by candlelight?!? The resistance must had found out and were hunting for the text! Siméon took a step back on the old wooden floor to consider his next move...

Julien smiled grimly. A battered, voluminous tome was in front of him. Oh, officially all copies of this book were destroyed by the Vatican, but not this Greek translation... Oh how the priests would rail if they knew of its existence. It was a fairly ordinary tome of black magic, if one could ever say such a thing, until you reached the second half... buried in warnings, precaution and pleas not to use it, lay a spell of terrible and breathtaking power. Oh sure it could rend his flesh and mind, but for such potency.... Julien knew he could master it. He had spent the last 4 hours, completely ignoring the few other texts he knew to be here, to review the spell, imprint it in his mind, and take the necessary mystical steps to be able to bring forth its power. He felt as if a door had appeared within his mind, one that now begged to be opened.

Julien eyes snapped open. That sound! Someone had made the flooring creak... was creeping in shadows. He raised his voice and said with genuine irritation "Who dares interrupt my work!? The library is closed and I am doing delicate restorations! Be gone!"

Siméon quietly drew his gun, unfazed by the transparent bluff - no scholar would work by candle light at this hour. It was time for a quick decisive move - the man was alone and had to be dealt with. He muttered a quick protective spell to ward off any tricks the man could have, and stepped forward quickly, aiming for the table... but the man was gone.

"Ah, what do we have here, a little Seraphim with teeth? I have teeth of my own, now" a sneering voice in the darkness said.

"You will not have the text you foul renegade! Surrender now and we will show you mercy! Do NOT try my patience!" bellowed Siméon, raising his gun.

"Neither you nor your petty masters can stop me now! I Command the Words of Changing!" answered Julien

A hoarse shriek rose from between the bookcases. Siméon fired several time - He narrowed his eyes, trying to pierce the gloom. Silence, the smell of gunpowder.

Then Horror Itself rushed forth, and Siméon did not have time to scream.

May 2013



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