AtomicEmperor

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Mood Music

Edict

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Mentions: Auri Auclair | Direct Dialogue: Linqian Han/@FernStone, Britney Williams/@Punished GN, Layla Hyacinthus/@Estylwen | Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District

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Edict listened to Britney and Linqian, letting them go on about things as he watched Layla's reaction. It almost made him smile how much more chipper she was, and he wanted her to remember this feeling while she had it. Because when it left, it was going to hurt, he could tell by the amount of work that went into making it happen. Frankly he was a bit tired now, and skipping out on having to use his 'little friend' meant he wasn't going to need to explain why he'd been carrying a piece like it around all night. He'd had people get upset before, realizing he'd had a gun in some strange contraption that they'd never expect poised and ready to fire away.
There was talk about the Feds, however, which did make him a bit sick. Irrationally, he hated them almost more than some of the Sycamore Leadership based on their sheer willingness to break an Omerta code he perceived between Adepts and Third-Eye Opens. That they were all in it together; that having associates outside of that bond was fine so long as you kept them in line, but when it came to one another it should be protect over detect. He definitely didn't want to stick around any longer than he had to if that meant dealing with them.

Suddenly, his new little buddy started to pop out of her shell. He instinctively grinned, recognizing the behavior from so many introverts and closed off people. People with fears and worries simply needed to be assuaged, their stresses often getting the better of them in strong, unmitigated ways. With a washing like what she'd been put through, fuck it was well within reach, and it seemed so simple to just reach out and take whatever they wanted once they were there.
“Here's my bid for the second one. Why not~?”
Edict's brow furrowed and he looked down at the twenty year-old woman. He had a vaguely father-like scowl on his face as his hand instantly wrenched two twenties from his pocket and nearly flung them forward.
"Ayyy, out-fuckin'-bidded over here, Jesus... You ain't old enough, I know that one for a fact. At least wait until we ain't in public where someone's gonna arrest us before you go open fisting a can of Miller in the middle of Ol' Cracker. Fuckin' Feds everywhere, Sis!" Greyson asserted, his other hand extending to lower Layla's as he smirked at her.
"But, sure. Sabrina's house it is. How's about we all hit the Ferry then. I'll have someone bring my car back into the city, and we'll wait at my Uncle's bar down the road from the docks while we wait."

Mentioning his Uncle's anything made him assume, after what had happened, that Linqian was going to be nervous. He'd stuffed the money into her bag and left the beer there for later, shrugging with the now empty hand.
"Ah, nobody's gonna be there. It's closed for the day, but I have the back door key. We can just hang, it'll be cool. You remember the Brick, Britney? We got sick drinking there together one night, slept in a booth; my cousin Roland came in the next day to prep and woke us up?" he grinned, a fond memory coming back to him. He figured with the privacy, they could even let poor Layla unwind a bit more with a few off-the-clock drinks.

Edict's head moved in a strange way for a split second, neck craning to catch a look past Britney's head and out into the festival in front of him. He could, through a couple of booths, make out Auri Auclair sitting at a booth with a glass of wine. Two guests. A woman and some figure cloaked in black...
Who the fuck?
This night was getting weird, and he was starting to feel cagey; like no matter where they looked, they were just going to find more and more characters that weren't going to be particularly warm or friendly to him. His mind split for a moment, like it was a decade ago that he felt just like this, standing there with a feeling like he was the odd man out of a bunch of groups of friends. Like the few years before were nothing.

But her face was there. She was there. Just like she had been, when everyone else had turned their backs on him, she was the last to leave. Left to turn out the lights, because they were both cast out for their willingness to win a war that literally had to be won. He hated to think that was the only reason she had stuck around, but he couldn't be sure. Still, it was okay; she was back. Back in his life for a small period of time before she'd eventually see through him again and run far far away.
Better you do, my Love. I won't chase you. Once we're safe...
He felt his Lux welling up in his throat and eyes, the tendrils of his spell making themselves as if they were their own creatures. He was too slow to stop it from reaching them all, its influence meandering about rather than attempting to make some entry purchase. As soon as the burning started, however, he was shocked back into mindfulness. All present would feel the wandering tendrils dissipate instantly, like the clouds parting for the sun.

Love was a hard emotion to hide.

"Shit, fuck... Sorry, I... Wh-whatever, let's get the fuck out of here before someone gives us any trouble." he asserted, taking a step out of the gazebo and on toward the ferry docks, mumbling curses under his breath toward Auri Auclair and her poor decisions.

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Mood Music

Kenshiro

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Mentions: In Collaboration with @Punished GN | Direct Dialogue: Auri Auclair, Odessa Maxwell | Location: Auri's Flower Stand, Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District

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Auri ran to the scene, butterfly staff in hand, and watched as the crowd that came to watch the confrontation dispersed. There was (THANKFULLY) no sight of Emily, but Auri recognized the two PRA Agents who were in cutesy maid dresses and the rest of her people. She saw Britney walk up, and then Stormy talked to her. She got spooked, turned on her heel, and left with Linqian and Sabrina Vanburen. The situation seemed alright, but Auri didn't want to be around the people who teargassed them. However, Auri jumped when Odessa put her head underneath her arm, and smiled at her… Auri awkwardly laughed.

“These are your friends?” Odessa asked as she took a step forward, getting from underneath Auri’s arm. “The Sycamore Tree Coven?”

“Well, some of them,” Auri said.

“Heroes.”

“What?”

“They’re heroes!” Odessa said with a smile. “Not anyone could face the Stygian Snake, defeat it, and live to tell the tale!”

“Yeah…” Auri sighed as she looked around… and most curious, there was a little frog in her peripheral. She furrowed her brows in confusion as this was not the season for them. Then confusion was replaced by curiosity as it reminded her of someone… she summoned the butterfly apparitions within the butterfly staff and commanded them to grab the frog. Two glowing butterflies grabbed the frog and lifted it up, bringing it over to Auri so she could get a closer look…

“... Are you gonna dissect it?!” Odessa said with a laugh.

Auri shook her head.

The small frog was indignant at its quickly adjusting position. The butterflies were strong, and while the sticky pads on his toes kept him firmly planted for a moment, their constant dusting quickly dried out his skin.
Now, landing in Auri's palm, the frog took a resting squat while staring up at her.
This particular specimen was quite the robust mixture of colors; gold and purple seemed to swirl together underneath a tiny yukata robe, and on his little waist was a belt with a metal piece that had the tiniest kanji stamped into it.

As a poisonous tree frog, if he felt threatened he knew he could pressurize himself and ruin this person's day at the cost of his own time in this realm…
But he'd recognized what the Master said: The Butterfly Priestess. He croaked, actually chirped as he was so tiny, which was followed by the most miniscule and incomprehensible Japanese rambling.

If Auri could understand Japanese at all, she'd recognize that whatever dialect he was using either didn't exist, or was so old that it was no longer in use. He stared upward, upward some more, gave one last burst of language from his throat, then threw his hands up in very clear frustration.

So the peeping started: even small frogs like him were capable of projecting their tiny barking across great distances. While he wasn't trained in hearing such subtle noises, Ken was joined by the Scout Leader, who began to direct him toward Auri by listening for his Brother's distant signal. The two parties were capable of wandering just a few more yards before Ken rounded a corner and was looking down range at Auri Auclair.

“Auri!?”

It only took a few seconds for the area that had once been devoid of Froggy influence to flood with the peeping and croaking of the dozens of scouts sent out to find the woman. Some of them came to rest on her shoulders, a couple others ended up in her hand with the one she had found.
They were all kind of cute with their uniforms, some having little top knots or hats, but they all transferred back to Ken as he got close.

“Auri, I'm so fucking sorry…”
He didn't hesitate wrapping his arms around her in a warm and friendly embrace. He remembered losing his family; all he wanted was a hug.
“I had the worst nightmare and it made me come back. I should have sensed something was wrong earlier, I'm so sorry…”

“K-Kenshiro?!” Auri’s mouth was agape… and it wasn’t for the frogs all over her. She looked at Kenshiro. “It’s… not your fault. There is no need to be sorry. But it’s been so long, friend. How was your adventure?”

“Awful, I come back and people who I love are dead again. It’s like the past repeating itself, and despite my Batman costume surrounding me in its friendly warmth, I crave vengeance as I have for many years. But, it’s renewed.”
He flicked his hand, arigato leaving his lips as the several dozen frogs vibrated into golden hazes before disappearing entirely.
“I… I got your message just now. Not but a few hours ago when I arrived. I’m sorry about meeting you with such tragedy in such a happy place, but I await your orders!”

Auri briefly glanced at Odessa, who smiled at her, and then looked down at this stupid robot costume that she was wearing. Auri took a step forward as she said, “Well… ummm… right now we’re laying low, but tomorrow we’re going after a lead I gathered last week.”

Auri sighed, “I guess… I can fill you in on everything you missed in the meantime.”

Kenshiro grimaced beneath the mask and the eye makeup, bowing low in front of her as was traditional.
“Forgive me, I understand now is not a good time. Also, I believe I saw and, as they say, fucked on Emily G. Reed as I arrived here at the island. Say the word and I shall make myself scarce until a time that you require my assistance.”

“No, no, no, don’t go!” Auri laughed, grabbing onto his sleeve. “Come to my stall, we can talk like… normal people. I got wine in my stall, I’m not sure if it’s your thing.”

She briefly glanced at Odessa, who was smiling,

“... This is Odessa Maxwell,” She began, “A friend of mine.“

Odessa stuck her hand out, still smiling,

“It is great to meet you, friend!” Odessa began.

Ken smiled back at the two women, taking Odessa’s hand and bowing in front of her before pulling his mask from his face. The two dark black makeup circles made him look like a japanese raccoon with his hair tied up in a little bun.

“Odessa is a place in the land of Texas, correct? Coincidentally, I visited there within the last few months. The tacos are to die for!”

He was sure to hug Auri again, elated that she wasn’t rejecting him for another time slot. He wasn’t sure what he was liable to do without proper guidance in this time of crisis, but it was going to be drastic.

“You are not one of our people, Odessa Texas Maxwell. You are… Like us, yes?” He turned, falling to Auri’s side like a loyal dog would do.

“I am not one of you, but if I had known what was going on ten years ago, I would have been there by your side! Better late than never, as they say!” Odessa was still smiling, tilting her head. “However, I consider myself a loyal ally to old Sycamore, even if most of you are not aware of me yet!”

She then shrugged.

“Though, maybe not Texas, it is great to meet you!” She laughed.

Auri awkwardly laughed; if she had a collar, she would have tugged it, but alas.

“I’m convinced it was a Texas close to our own reality. But people seemed tolerant and that’s not what I’m aware of our Texas being like…”

As they walked through the fair grounds, Ken pulled a small pack of seeds and flowers from underneath his cape.
“As usual, I’ve brought you back some things. Some of it may already be rotted: The land of Owrang is a place that I was lost in for a few of their years… I don’t know how well some of them were preserved, but I did remove the best I saw from the pile of junk and brought it here for you.”

The little sack opened up in his hand, held aloft by his most basic control over his Phantom Hand technique. Within were petals of flowers and stalks of some cactus-like things as well as at least a dozen baggies of assorted seeds and other things.
“I hope you can make some use of these. The blue petals seem to taste good, and offer some uplifting effects… I uh… I definitely got lost in those mountains for a few weeks.”

“Oooooooh….” Auri said as she grabbed the flowers, mouth agape with wonder, before she looked at Ken and giggled. “... I’ll have to save these for later.”

Odessa laughed.

It wasn’t long before the trio returned to Auri’s stand… and she did not yet notice the alterations that the 317 did to her paintings. However, she did not move the closed sign as she leaned against one of the tables.

“So… maybe I should start from the beginning…” Auri glanced over to Odessa, who was staring at the 317. Unblinking. With a smile on her face. Auri shook her head, “... Oh!”

That was when Auri reached underneath the foldable table and pulled out a glass of red wine… and thankfully, she had brought two glasses. One for her and one for Ken… Auri glanced at Odessa again and figured that she probably does’t want any. She poured them both a glass, and then smiled as she said,

“Cheers!”

“Kanpai!”

---

One short conversation later, and Kenshiro was all caught up…

“... So, that’s why we’ve been laying low for the last week, but I feel like we’re on a race against time!” Auri awkwardly laughed as she ran a soft hand through her hair. “But, I think, with the help of Alyssa, we finally made a breakthrough.”

Ken looked like a war veteran at the other end of the table. His hand gripped the stem of his wine glass like the end of a club, the glass itself shimmering with a small amount of his natural energy as it arced through the material.

“This is a lucky break, Auri. Not all souls have the capacity to speak their truth.”
He remembered the Brothers of Honored Dead, taking them back to his village after the devastation and the Hellfires were diminished.
“It’s encouraging to know that we can make some headway soon: What do you feel I should be spending my energy on then? Keeping tabs on others? Or should our enemies feel the sting of my precision?”

“Relaxing,” Auri said with a smile. “At the moment…”

She paused as she carefully tried to pick her words.

“... We have no enemies, I would like you to keep an eye on the others because Father Wolf always attacks people who are alone.“ She sighed. “But, you can take a breather. There is no need to rush….”

Ken grimaced a bit more. There was a moment where Auri could’ve seen the gears in Ken’s head turning tightly, wound up like a tense clockwork that didn’t seem to understand it’s own mechanisms. His eyes went wide in his head like he was experiencing a war all over again, and it was a deep cut that he was traveling to in his memories. Vivid Recollections of the Stygian’s wrath.

““We… Have enemies. If our blood is spilled, our enemies lurk in the City. Heavens forbid, the Beast’s allies are back! Or, worse, Leon’s gone off the deep end, I couldn’t take it!”
His face was pure panic: Fear of the loss to come consumed him, and he was having a hard time thinking about Auri’s plan for “laying low”. But he was trained just as much in scouting as he was in combat: He could stake anyone out that she wanted him to.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and finally nodded his head in agreement.
“Okay. I shall… I will watch! Them, everyone. You say Jack is around, so I will approach him about establishing a proper network. I suggest we press certain people to test their loyalty to our cause; that we may avoid saboteurs! Though, no doubt we will be able to establish suspicions more directly by quiet observation.”
His expression changed to one of expectation, with the hope that she would approve of his plans like a toddler would look for approval.

Auri’s mouth was agape as she stared at Kenshiro in abstract horror.

“... Relax,” Auri tried to smile; she did but couldn’t hide the concern from her face. She had one final card up her sleeve as she desperately poured Kenshiro another glass of wine. “Here! Have some more!” She thrust it out.

Ken may have always seemed somewhat childlike in nature: It’s true he was somehow sheltered from the way that the “real” world works, but that didn’t degrade his ability to perceive. He felt the shock in her expression, the reaction to push alcohol onto him as if that would somehow dull his nerves.
Maybe it would.
His grimace turned into a simple frown, turning into a slight pout as he took another drink from his glass and nodded.
“Then, that’s how it will be. Relaxed. They would’ve trusted your judgment, and so will I.”
He couldn’t help but feel a little disheartened; that she was so willing to just play the back field when such things were happening around them.

“Before I came home, I was in such a strange place. The trees, they weren’t trees. They were, like, giant dicks. Flesh and wood. One day when things are less dangerous, I wish to bring people through the paths… To see the other Realms.”
He very quickly went from looking scared to looking reminiscent. Almost longingly, he thought about the chance for adventures that would maybe never come.
“Kari won’t see it now. Neither will Kali. I… Some may crave the same action that I do. It will make them restless. Vengeance.”

“I am certain that they are watching over you from wherever they are, Kenshiro,” Auri began, attempting to reassure Kenshiro, “They will have a front-row seat, you can say.”

She nodded her head.

“You are doing honor to their memory by returning, you know? You could have simply left and never come back to save yourself. Yet. Here you are. Ready for action. You’re going to save everyone, I promise you that.”

Ken shifted in his seat, his heart rate slowing down as he sipped on his drink and looked out across the festival grounds as the rain started to lighten up. It was getting closer to dark now, the time where things began to get strange. He recognized the slowly shifting feeling as the alcohol warmed his blood in the cool autumn air. He held his tongue for a long while, thinking about what he wanted to say.
But implying that he was suspicious of her and her behavior wouldn’t do him any favors. It was a dangerous game throwing accusations around without any sort of actual proof. There was a shift in his demeanor, his intensity dipping with the sunlight below the horizon.

“Right. Then we shouldn’t languish here in the rain. What kind of honor to the living is it to populate the waking world with the memory of the dead?”
He stood up, stretching and putting his mask back on.
“Trick or Treating! We should find some of the others, and go out into the city for the Trick or Treating! I still have several smoke bombs, soft boiled eggs I keep for rations, some…-”
Reaching into his utility belt, he produced a small sheath of close to ten shuriken stars.
“-Some throwing stars, I think I have a tomato?”

He reached back to the furthest point on the belt where there was a pouch with his smoke bombs. What he pulled out was a half squashed potato; clearly a mixup in his vocabulary. Despite his perfect American accent implanted into him, the words were not all wired correctly, and he often either sounded far too formal or too silly to be taken seriously.

Auri just laughed. “... That’s a potato!”

When she finished laughing, she said,

“But, you know, that doesn’t sound half bad, but…” She looked at the CLOSED sign on her stand… then Odessa staring at those weirdos. “I have to tend after my stand, I can’t really leave the stand again… but don’t let me hold you up!”

He narrowed his eyes as deeply as he could at Auri, taking in the inventory that she’d brought. It was the fall season, and while she had plenty of perennial flowers for sale grown in a greenhouse, there were seasonal flowers as well. The thought about his abilities, and about Kai’s many paths. He’d be here in St. Portwell for the foreseeable future, so…

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a few small rectangular gold pieces that clacked together as he placed them on the counter and slid them toward Auri.
“I refuse to leave you alone like this.-” he started, then stopped and looked at Odessa.
”-Well, not alone certainly, but out like this. It’s the perfect venue for a murder, and I worry a single friend won’t be enough of a deterrent. So, I will buy your stock; and as we’re leaving we will hand every single beautiful flower out to the people who have gathered here on glorious Crackerland!”

Auri grabbed the pieces, staring at them with wide eyes.

“... What are these?”

He pulled a third one out and put it on his forehead, right in the center with it sticking upright. He smiled widely.
“Meowth! Meowth!” he began to laugh. “These are Koban. Gold from the Empire which we used as a stipend for our yearly operations. The clan treasury would supply us with a few boxes of them every year, and we would return with different artifacts and materials you can’t find in this realm.”

He held out the third one to Auri, letting her take it as well.
“They were still in the village the night I returned to it burning; it’s how I can tell it wasn’t one of our rival clans that did the deed. If they had, they would’ve pillaged our coffers as well.”
There was a wide grin on his face, and he wasn’t about to tell her how many were back on his boat, or how many were buried on the property outside.
“These are, I believe, from the early seventeen-hundreds. Get them appraised, they become too high profile to sell. But, I met a fence willing to go for around sixty percent, which means today each coin is worth about a thousand or so of your American Greens.”

“I… uh…” Auri was completely awestruck as she stared at them. “I can’t take these Kenshiro! It won’t feel right!” She looked over to him.

“I believe I am a paying customer. Put the rest of it on my tab for gardening supplies and dogwood bark bags for my summons, and you will be perfectly capable of taking them as payment for an evening worth of your time without my being so glum and harmed!”
And there he was, back to being intensive in a bright and cheerful kind of way that he was mostly known for. Kenshiro was generally always wearing his heart on his sleeve, but these moments made it somewhat endearing as he provided warm and friendly energy to the situation. Maybe too much…

Auri smiled.

“... Well, could you help me get my stuff back to the mainland, then?”

A wide grin formed across his face.
“Of course. What else is all this good for?” he asked, his right hand slipping into the formation of half of a somatic sigil. Every flower and bundle or bouquet rose from the table like a ghost hoisted them from their spot. He slid them back onto open ground, giving Auri room to take care of her things which he moved to help with as well.

He’d purchased friendship for the night, it seemed, and he was satisfied for now despite the lingering fear and anxiety over what was to come next.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

#Revengebuddies

@Estylwen

#Revengebuddies Can't wait for this goofy duo to cause nothing but problems for others. Also can't wait for the eventual reconvening of House of Cards, and Layla just brings Edict along and Vorpal's like "OHFUG"

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Mood Music

Edict & Layla

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Mentions: Stormy Carson & Jack Hawthorne/@Blizz, Britney Williams/@Punished GN, Sloane Farris/@Atrophy, Leon Richoux, PRA/TCGI/STC NPCs | Direct Dialogue: In collaboration with @Estylwen | Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District

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Edict stared down at her pale, innocent face from behind dark glasses. His intentions were cold and dark; nothing any worse than what normally surrounded the girl. Unintentionally, through his desire to manipulate, he’d found a target with whom he had no real past. Layla had been a little girl: She hadn’t had the chance to wrong him in a way that she understood. What did she deserve that people like Sully or Leon deserved? What Auri or Sloane or Ashley deserved?

But it had to be done; something had to give in the situation he was in now. She either had a grudge or something deeper, but he needed to know everything before he could make a judgment. He had no clue what he was actually walking into.

Edict’s smile curled up around his face, perfectly curated to mimic empathy and compassion. His hand extended in a friendly way, patting Layla on the shoulder with a directive motion toward the haunted house. As he did, he pulled out his phone and rattled the text message to Linqian he had intended to.

His phone clicked, and he moved his hand away from Layla as they began to walk. His first instinct was to give the same disclaimer he’d had the decency to give Linqian.

"A couple of things are going to happen at once, Layla. I’m gonna show you what happened at the Church, and at the same time I’m gonna give you a bit of a boost. Think of it like an energy drink: You’ll feel more alert, but also more relaxed… I know it sounds weird, but I promise it’s pretty cool.-"

Layla nodded along as they walked. ”O-okay.”

Edict gave the girl a smile and a reassuring nod as they began to walk through the crowds the further they got into the actual event space. Of course he wouldn’t tell her what the process entailed; about how he’d be learning every point of stress he could, about how he’d be scrubbing and combing her memories for information in order to form the perfect string of spells catered to give her the best kind of high she could ask for.

"Now, it’ll last about four hours. We’ll probably either be wrapping up or already departed by then, so if you like the feeling I’ll top you off again before we’re done. However, I’ll warn you that after you’re done, it’s gonna feel like hell. Worse than when you started, maybe. But, I’ve heard people say the four hours is enough time to experience some level of clarity where they were able to make changes in their lives. I think it’s worth it if you can push through the adverse ending.”

Bullshit. It was heroin, it was amphetamine, it was the poison one crams into their veins through the webbing in their toes because they can’t show the injection sight to the public. It was the little death, the pain of withdrawal that left you feeling empty and worthless without the glowing pink center to give you that second hit. If she wasn’t a naïve girl, she’d have sprinted away then and there.
But he never framed it like it was the end of the world. For a strong person, someone like Linqian, it wasn’t. It was the weak and the desperate that clung to Edict like a piece of flotsam in the storm.

His eyes began to curl with pink smoke, Channeler intaking Pink Lux from his own mind. The Pink Lotus unfurled its waterbound roots, beginning to crawl across the space between them in bundles like wide arms that caressed Layla’s emotional field like a mother swaddling a newborn. Even the gentle uplifting pressure was enough to make him feel safe… And, he was asking permission. Nothing bad ever happened with someone’s permission, right?

"Are you ready?”

A brief hesitation. What was she signing away here?

Layla's bottom lip stiffened. No, no there was no time for hesitation. She felt cold, uncertain, yes. But Mr. Devola could be trusted. He could be trusted, right?

A shaky breath. She could feel pressures already. Not in a bad way. Poised, more like. Waiting to be let in.

“I'm ready.” She said softly, having no idea what she was walking into. Internally, she relaxed. It was like any resistance she held was released as she stood as still as possible.

Edict took a long, deep breath. The words didn’t ring through the air so much as echo through her very mind.
”Pink Lotus’ Guiding Principle: Power Word Assess.”
The tendrils felt the flickering resistance as Layla released herself to him and his intentions.

And as Mr. Devola would begin his examination, several stress points would pop up, hazy in their numbers, but taking focus at a closer look.

The Void. What appeared to be kindness turned into ultimate betrayal as Layla watched Jack lure her and Void into a trap. The pain of having to fight friends - Stormy, Jack, Britney, Auri, in a desperate struggle for survival. The pain of being unheard and misunderstood when she said it would get worse, much worse, if they took Void from her.

The hot, biting sting of hatred in Layla as she pulled a knife on Jack. She hated seeing Void surrender. She didn't understand why a stupid sword meant anything, why Void was so scared of Britney. Why he surrendered all of a sudden. Her anger though, curiously, turned on Jack instead, and she felt the bloodlust necessary to drive it through his heart.

The pain of preferring death, of threatening her own life, to keep them away from Void.

The Temple. The false sense of security that was shattered like a China dish. This memory was twisted, thought on repeatedly instead of being first-hand experience. As if Layla could only imagine as Mr. Salamante drove the knife through a no longer breathing Void. Her raw disgust at Clarissa, the memory having an audible shriek to it as Layla gripped hands on the woman. How her disgust and shock turned into physical sickness. How she was told Void was dead. And she wished to be dead too.

The nights. Haunting shadows of figures morphing into reality, crooning over her as she sat there in the darkness, petrified with fear. Hands and face slicked with sweat. Trembling at even the slight gesture of them teasing her, mocking her. The fear of knowing what her entities wanted, and simply waiting for the pain. Waiting in dread for a thing she couldn't avoid.

As all of this swirled, as he peeled through each layer of her recent memories hunting and searching for a point where she’d decided that a hit was to be placed on Britney for her involvement, he regaled Layla with the full color full motion footage recorded in his mind.

”Pink Lotus’ Precious Recollection: Living in Color.”

It was a seamless experience filled in by the imagination of a man who spent his entire life lying to people in order to maintain his own position. He was happy to show her something that almost happened, as it was far easier to put together on the fly than something entirely fabricated.
What Layla saw flash across her own mind as things began to settle in her was from Edict’s point of view.

The flash of Jack teleporting away outside the Church, with what she recognized as herself in tow. Entering the Church, Leon’s boisterous voice shouting about someone teleporting.
”Leon knew you were in trouble. I realize this now. He tried to save you.”
It was like one of those old school moving pictures, where instead of a voice there was a flash of text quotes in the foreground. Followed by clever editing; Leon at the window, the canister hitting him in the head. It was easy to influence the mind to think that the cloud of vapor wasn’t there…

It hit the floor in front of him. Then, his hands came up, throwing the canister toward the ceiling as it exploded into a ball of fire. Never once did it show his hand in it, that he’d lit the fire from the leaking gas cloud. It also wasn’t hard to mimic consciousness fading in and out, and he did this to cover his failed escape attempt. Rather, in the vision he gave Layla a sense that he turned from the explosion and tried to dive away before being driven to the ground by the force. His eyes opened to the PRA, and he made sure to focus on their leader shouting and having an absolute shitfit.

”These people are dangerous enemies.”

Faces flashed in front of Layla, and Edict couldn’t help but transfer a bit of personal emotion to her. Pain that she was familiar with, that he was quickly learning behind the scenes as something they had in common. Sloane, Stormy, Jack and Auri who arrived wounded. It was explained far better to him through this context, knowing what he knew now. There’d been a fight. Those two from the Temple, and more. Salamente, even their Lady herself, Lynette.

But the picture show was over then. His work wasn’t. The two of them walked while this happened, with Edict guiding their steps slowly and carefully until they made it to a waiting area where they could sit near the Haunted House.

”Pink Lotus’ Guiding Principle: More Than a Feeling.”
Complete and total pink saturation washed through Layla’s brain matter, brute forcing a solution that he’d searched and searched for: The crux of the problem. He was always listening, after all.
”Taking life is easy. You must just not be looking at things the right way. Don’t Worry.”

Picking through her memories, he began to feed them back to her. Images of past kills, of previous hunts that she’d been forced to watch. The Void Heart smiled in her memory, bloody hands lifting up her chin to witness his dark form. Alongside him, “friendly” faces: Edict himself, with Britney under his arm. Leon, the Temple, people who he wanted her to disassociate as threats. As if Void Heart was personally vouching for them contrary to what she had previously seen.
"I’m so proud of you…”
He pulled and ruffled the sparse but passionate moments that she’d spent with Void Heart, bringing it all together in the form of a seal that locked her mind into the final thought: Jack Hawthorne’s severed head, corpse a feast for the ethereal dogs of her torturers piled alongside the others who had betrayed her trust in the first place.
”People involve themselves in business that isn’t theirs. Busy bodies, enemies of your happiness. You have the tools to end their lives. Use it for yourself, and paint the canvas with their remains.”

As the crux and defining moment played out, one last memory surfaced. One that Mr. Devola had been searching for. The mental breakdown of Layla's as she sat across a recognized figure - Miss Vorpal. One other, Miss Blackthorn, was with them as well. The feeling of bliss from Miss Vorpal's ethereal eyes. How Miss Vorpal held Layla and promised her healing in the form of revenge. How Britney Williams had been implied as one that had to suffer.

This was how the connection between Britney's hit and Layla's involvement would be made.

And then reality came back around them, the tendrils pulling away all at once. Edict had his sunglasses in his hand now, looking at Layla as she came to. Consciousness was meant, in Edict’s method, to be a warm embrace that welcomed the girl back into its arms. The sting of Void Heart’s loss remained, but far louder was the lasting image of that “friendly” smirk he gave to his pets. What one may consider predatory was Layla’s happy place: The beast that gave her peace.

Edict waited for a long moment, letting reality set back in for her as sorrow was replaced with warm nostalgia and love that she’d been able to perceive as if it were real and in front of her.

As her awareness came back to her, a genuine smile graced her features. What had once been unhappy and grief-stricken were now replaced with happiness and peace. She was filled with understanding, as tangible as seeing Void's warm face in front of her.

She blinked slowly, trying to get her bearings. She realized they were right outside the Haunted House, and a childish giggle escaped her lips.

She thought about what she saw, and spoke slowly, gaze shifting from the ground to Mr. Devola. “I think… the cops were wrong to attack everyone. I can't believe they set the church on fire…”

Her head hung a bit. “Perhaps… I was wrong about the Temple. They were just trying to help.”

She thought of Void, and her smile grew soft. “I miss my friend, but I'll be okay.”

A dark, detached look crossed her face. She didn't vocalize this, but already in her mind, strategies were being formed to take down the man who betrayed her and Void: Jack Hawthorne. He wouldn't see it coming…

“I… Thank you, Mr. Devola.”

Edict, looking around to see Linqian, Sabrina and Britney making their return through the crowd, leaned into Layla subtly as he stuffed his Channeler into his breast pocket.

"Don't mention it. Seriously, not to anyone else. It's our secret now. Revenge Buddies.”
He patted her shoulder with warm comfort, something like a genuine smile forming over his face as his legs brought him back to a standing position. He hefted the guitar case over his shoulder, waving the returning ladies closer to them.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Mood Music

Edict

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Mentions: Linqian Han/@FernStone, Britney Williams/@Punished GN | Direct Dialogue: Layla Hyacinthus/@Estylwen | Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District

---

When he'd asked her about the meeting, he realized she was talking about the Church. Lucky for her, she hadn't gotten wrapped up with the Feds. Unlucky for her, apparently she'd lost her inherited buddy. From what he gathered thanks to Linqian's handy information gathering, her situation went something like this: The night of the first meeting, Alizee Altieri gave up the ghost in a literal and metaphorical sense. The ghost, as vicious as it once was, didn't die... It was problematic for people like Auri who saw what Alizee did that night and thought that Void Heart would be best if he was out of the way. Edict hadn't known the girl too well, and he really didn't know this girl. But he did know that they looked similar. Lithe, pale, platinum hair and bad attitudes. He could only reckon the old Nut Ghost had a type.

“Only Anya seemed to agree with me. She's got her head on straight, I'll have to talk with her again.
God in Absence, she's beyond naïve.
Edict made a strong mental note to contact Anya and get her working this case with him. They were, he recognized, tools for one another's games. But he kind of liked that, and it made Edict feel similar to how he felt about Linqian: You can live, maybe. She unwrapped her hand, showed him her wound, and Edict did his best mimic of a surprised face. At the same time, he had to keep a straight face as he saw two tiny eyes cresting up over the side of one of the canopies holding a festival booth. Two golden eyes, sitting perfectly like two cresting suns over the horizon of canvas lining. One little... Hand? Paw? Foot?

A tiny, bright gold tree frog stared at the two of them with a discerning and judgmental stare. It wasn't there long, however, and before Edict could do anything about the strange creature, it was gone. He thought for a second it was wearing clothes. His head shook, and he cleared his throat.
"Auhh... You... You don't sound so good Layla. Maybe... Maybe I can help you?-"
He sincerely had no recollection of what her abstraction entailed, but he couldn't see many consequences present in giving her a quick magical once-over. If she had any serious cracks, like he thought she may have, she'd be a sitting duck for his powers. But, he stopped himself short. It was always easier to get permission for these sorts of operations; Once he was in with permission, it was hard to stop him from getting back in later unless you had some serious assistance or were somewhat used to the basic entry.

“We should… uh… move to the Haunted House.”
Edict nodded in agreement, the perfect chance to see if that little frog was really who he thought it was. But she stopped again, held still.
“Were… there any more leads given during the meeting? Anything I missed?”
Pulling out his phone to rattle off a text to Linqian, Layla gave him reason to pause and smile. Fire, flames, chaos, property damage...
"Well, long story short, we were raided by Police Officers. Federal police, actually, government agents more like. Magical people, like us. They attacked. I can show you if you don't mind me using my power."

That was a far more casual, far more devious way to suggest letting him in. Edict wasn't keen on leaving the spot he told the others they'd be in, so he was hopeful that she'd take the bait and he could drag the line into the boat so he could get a nice long look at his catch. He waited for her choice with phone in hand figuring that if for some silly reason he was denied, he'd still have to text someone to let them know there's movement. All he needed to really know was what the hell happened with the Sealing. He wanted to see what Britney had to do with it that would make her a target for anyone. It just didn't make sense in his mind that something so drastic could've happened, but the way he figured things made him feel like he was the only one who could get to the bottom of it.

---

---

Mood Music

Leon & Casey

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Mentions:Nobody Relevant | Direct Dialogue: Adora Phoenix-Prescott/@Punished GN, Trisha Vanburen/@FernStone | Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District

---

Having managed to pull both parties off one another with ease, the two Jotun sized men stood across from one another. Leon specifically held Adora in a tight clutch under both arms, his massive forearms squishing Adora's chest while she vaguely struggled to get back to the punching. Casey didn't feel the same struggle from Trisha, and rather than holding her arm locked behind her back like she was part of the problem, he let her go. At first, Leon was a bit confused at the identity of the person bitching at him, but after a few moments and a few words through fat lips, he knew this wasn't just any victim of assault: It was a perpetual victim. The damsel in distress herself, the Queen Bee.

"Oh, wow... Trisha? God, what's the city coming to when a Vanburen can't walk safely among her people?" he asked sarcastically, the still struggling Adora beginning to mellow out.
"Dude, she's fucked! Look at this poor girls face, who are these two?"
Leon took a long deep breath as he avoided saying That's a Bee.
"Well this here is Adora PP, Phoenix-Prescott, or Appie, she hates all those nicknames. And she's a Vanburen so that really sums things up."
Casey's eyes widened a bit as he got a slightly better picture of things, and he turned to Trisha.
"Oh my God, Ms. Vanburen!? I'm so sorry about this, holy hell..."
"Yep, welcome to Sycamore Hell my favorite Little Brother. Ladies, my brother Casey. He's handsome and available. Speaking of, Case, could you please bring our lovely Ms. Vanburen to the place with the food? Have Andrade get her the jelly roll from the ice chest, I think that'll do the trick for the blood and broken bones."

Casey, still wide eyed at the carnage, frowned.
"Uh, sure Lee.-" he replied, looking at Trisha with a great deal of empathy. "Do you mind? Its just down the way, our Uncle has some food that can heal you. Videogame shit, but that's magic right?" he tried to be as polite as possible in offering the help to the woman whose family was St. Portwell Royalty that his mom and dad had spent his whole childhood striving for. He didn't know why he felt compelled to treat her like a princess; maybe it was the inherent respect for authority and hierarchy that filled his heart, or maybe it was the sight of a wounded woman that put him out of sorts.

Meanwhile, Leon had already begun moving Adora into a different direction. Speaking to her in a low voice as he let her go, Leon smiled down at Adora.
"When I saw it was you, I was gonna let you keep going. But I figured if it was good and right, we could both get some shots in together... Come on, let's not be near her now, and maybe we can get a beer. God damn look at that face..." he said, looking back one last time to wave his little brother and the young Vanburen off.
"What the hell brought all that on, huh?" he asked Adora, still laughing and shaking his head as he tried to shift the attention ultimately away from what had transpired.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Mood Music

Kenshiro

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Mentions: Auri Auclair, Emily G. Reed/@Punished GN | Direct Dialogue: Emperor Tennogama | Location: Traveling > Home Boat > Auri's Flower Stand, Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District

---

Gazing across the dark at the girl at once filled the observer with curiosity and dread as one scene to the other passed through the mind of the slumbering Kenshiro Murakin. The Pit, the Mother Will, the Chalice... That girl, and the woman with pale skin. The Witch of the End... Ken felt his legs moving, running, trying to get to the girl and stop her or... Something. He wasn't sure, it felt like everything was just moving in place while he desperately tried to get out of the box he was stuck in. Screams couldn't escape, and suddenly it was his Sister's face. His Mother's. Torn asunder by the Hunters as the dream spiraled off into the ether.

He awoke high in a tree, hanging from the net he'd secured with a couple kunai buried deep in the fleshy wood. The thousands of branches beneath him gave the impression that there was solid something below him. But, this was no ordinary tree. As Ken stretched his limbs in the makeshift hammock, the branch above him began to vibrate gently from its base. This caused the hammock to rock and sway even more, until one of the Kunai pulled itself from the limb with a bloody discharge as the large vein began to squirt the tree's blood from the limb.
This had several effects: One, a side of the hammock let itself loose, removing any support out from underneath Ken. Two, the tree's blood spattered across his Gi and face as he began to fall which caused great discomfort. Third, in a reaction of pain, the tree's conscious mind moved all of the limbs between Ken and the ground out of the way to let him fall straight down to the ground. Still disoriented from the terribly vivid dream and the spatter of hot tree blood, Ken fell for a few dozen feet. It would have been a death sentence for many others, but then many others wouldn't spend their time this far up a Living Redwood. The impossibly tall and lanky creatures were massive wurms whose mouths and faces were buried dozens and dozens of feet beneath the dirt, whose massive stalks resisted the wind as they climbed higher toward the light.

It was a bit ironic in a poetic way that he felt much safer up here falling down than he did on the actual ground of this place. Cloth blew around him from his clothing, and he pulled a loose bit up to wipe the sticky coppery brown from his face. Eyes opened to the sky, disorienting in a falling position as there's very few references as to the speed of descent. He couldn't waste anymore time: Hands flicked together, fingers snapping from sacred position to position as Purple Lux rushed toward the band tied around his right bicep, then back out into his hands.
"Murasaki: Enlighten!"

His downward momentum halted, the very cloth around his body slowing his now weightless form to a glide through the sparsely packed trees. Once he was at a slower pace, he began to lighten even the clothes and his equipment until he wasn't falling at all, but rather hung in the dense air as if on a cloud. He checked his vest and his pouch, taking inventory of what he had left for this excursion, and determined that he was right to follow the urge that was now bubbling in him after that strange dream. He felt the call of his own Realm. Shimmer's calm embrace felt reserved and threatened in that dream, as if nothing was right. It couldn't have been if a human was involved... They either saved or ruined everything they touched.

He was still facing the sky, staring at the twin suns of of this world from behind darkened glasses meant to block the harmful rays. Sunglasses he bemused. Sucking in through his teeth, he felt the Lux heavy atmosphere around him and wished some of his friends could come with him. That one day he'd like to take them to these places where the magic is stronger, and where they'd be able to transcend their mundanity on Earth. Places like the Hidden Villages, where the magic was thickest...
To be fair, St. Portwell is similar. Tennogama has said so of his own volition.
In a place like this, the magic flowed like blood through his veins, making even the most complicated spell a simple task. Even from this Enlighten, he had so much control over his weight and direction that he easily stood up in mid air as if there were a solid floor of stone beneath him. This took focus in Shimmer, or other realms more closely mirroring it along the Infinite Chain.

But he had to leave. He'd been untrue to his instinct before, and for that he was unable to save his family from their doom. He would not do the same thing again.

He knew not yet what he was to find in that sleepy City, in which the Toad hides and the Snake lies in unrest beneath the soil. Not yet.

Ken let his hands and arms receive a great deal of Purple Lux, drawing it from both within and without his body. Feet planted firmly on the nothingness, Ken reached for the sword at his side. Long, deep breaths carried his arm slowly, precisely, with absolute and utter authority to the grip. Purple Lux transferred from the man into the blade, and he began to chant into the air, the ancient mantras of the Ten Paths. Each Kanji representing the ten colors of Lux bubbled through the air in purple flames that appeared from nowhere, until finally Ken held the tone pitch perfect for several seconds. In those seconds, the vibration from his voice box passed along through his bones to the sword he gripped. In a single slash, the blade flicked upward through the air, the blade resonating with such a powerful frequency that the vibrations caused it to lose its shape so that it looked like an airborne torrent of metal.

The rend in reality revealed a tatami sliding door, which slid open for Ken as the rapidly vibrating sword was slid back into its sheath and made the most deafening silence one could imagine. He looked back one last time on this savage landscape, not knowing when he'd be able to return next, and took one last deep breath at the hellish landscape of flesh trees and flatulent monstrosities that belched sulfer gas and other dreadful awful things. Maybe powerful Adepts came from this place, but it wasn't worth looking at this awfulness everyday... It was his first time looking at the ground since yesterday, and it disgusted him for the last time.

The door slammed shut behind him with a loud resonant "Thwack!", leaving the wretched place behind. A few thousand feet away, in a nearby flesh tree, a single kunai sat stabbed into the woody flesh, and would probably stay there until the beast one day died and decayed.

---

Life is so silly
You could be born a Flesh Tree
The Gods are all sick

---

The pathway door opened just where he wanted it to: At the foot of Tennogama's shrine, where the old Toad would be waiting for him to come back. The lucky thing was, he'd always know if Ken was alive or not; he was intrinsically aware that Tennogama needed Ken alive for the Pact to remain in place, which meant that if he was still stuck in St. Portwell, the reckless young human had to be alive. Not that it didn't pain him to think of his only guard being out trotting about the Allverse without any kind of true backup, of course... But what could he do besides complain to someone who wasn't interested in listening?

Tennogama's spirit sat in the cool afternoon air, letting the water of the brook run across his underside while he laid back against a natural rock face and smoked his pipe. It was a mystery what he was smoking, but Tennogama himself knew that it was the loudest swamp-grown evergrove leaf that could be grown in the Realm of Gam, freshly burned at an offering on the other side every morning and every night to insure that he was kept well stocked with material to smoke in the equivalent of their spirit realm: The Shimmer. As Tennogama inhaled, the Kai Pathway began to burn a hole in reality that signified a member of the Murasaki Clan was fast approaching. The great spirit looked at it with the same secret bemusement that he did the first day he saw something like it, watching the colors of the flames dance about the door that eventually slid open and deposited an almost always half drained and starved Kenshiro.

Ken emerged across the mouth of the brook from the Toad, destined to stare at his great golden skin in all its basking glory. The spirit's presence was warming in a literal sense, the density of magic around it pooling moisture in the air and trapping heat that rolled up off the lake. It gave the area a constant fog, not that it protected the Emperor's modest staff in any great way. The spirit, bereft of modesty, could tell immediately that there was a troubled air about his Bondsman. Though the two simply stared between one another for a span of time, their minds and eyes were locked in the constant back and forth battle of "Who will ask who first?"

"D-daijoubu desu ka? (You are... Well?)"
The spirit's voice croaked like a thousand boulders tumbling into a pool of water, his ancient voice made far more convenient for croaking and barking than speaking the Human tongue.
"Honestly? I don't know yet. I had an awful dream, Sensei."
"And now you return because you fear?"
"Maybe... I am... I am hungry for some tacos down by the Harbor District as well."
Tennogama's eyes closed gently, and he inhaled another tug of smoke from his long, thin pipe. For a moment he made no motion, but exhaling brought about a gentle nod.
"You... Were right to return. I have felt a disturbance in the Magic. Things are happening that were not before."

Ken took a long and deep breath, inhaling the mist that billowed from Tennogama's direction; magical vapor from a pipe that didn't actually exist. His hands came up to his face, pulling the cloth half mask and the wide hood off his head. Patting himself down, he nodded up at Tennogama.
"Then it looks like I'm back for the foreseeable future. Let me go catch up with reality and I'll start rooting around, trying to figure out what's going on."
Tennogama gave a loud, guttural croak from the deepest part of himself. It was expressive of deep satisfaction, and these croaks and ribbits and barks that came from within were the preferred method of communication. Ken had long ago learned to read them, and took that as his permission to be dismissed. He traveled down the shore of the lake a few hundred feet before lazily throwing his hands together in a jumble. Another enlighten spell: At first he wobbled as he stepped onto the surface of the water, but remembering the depth of control necessary here in the Shimmer, he focused the magic closer to the soles of his shoes and feet.

Rather than actually walking like a solid surface, small bubbles of trapped and pressurized air kept him aloft above the water like a staggered stone pathway across a pond until he reached his destination. The sixty or so foot houseboat was a sturdy construct that sat in the middle of the lake at almost all moments. Though there was a dock, the resident himself didn't need any particular path to get on or off the vessel, so he saw no need to fuss with docking it unless he was too exhausted to get out there himself. It had happened a few times, thus he kept a heavy iron chain tied from the boat to the dock; worst case scenarios he could tug the thing back to dock and flop over the side.
The interior was sparse, mostly open space except for a kitchen and the bed at the second floor loft. The walls without windows were covered in storage, lockers upon lockers of tools and somatic supplies that so often needed refreshing between excursions. Not to mention the bundles of Blind medications, pain killers and other modern medical supplies that he'd adapted into his emergency kits. Otherwise, there was nothing except for a hatch to the ship's bilge and a small table with a radio and a little electrical outlet into which a small cell phone was plugged, and an equally small vintage radio with two batteries sitting next to it in upright positions. In the loft, besides his bed, was a small candle burning shrine with a stone pylon front and center. Without pictures, the faces of his long dead family members slowly fade from his mind.

Only pictures of himself with some of the Sycamore Tree kindred dot the otherwise bare walls of that upper space. He pulls the clothing from himself layer by layer, the sweat and blood and grime causing the various cloths to become rigid after peeling from one another and ultimately his chest. His lithe, slightly malnourished figure was made of very little body fat, but in the reflection of a window he caught sight of himself and saw his ribcage like a xylophone on his torso, and he took a deep breath. He'd been pushing himself too hard, even he had to admit that. He hoped in that moment, as he reached for his phone to turn it on and head down to the bilge for a shower, that he was just psyching himself up over nothing.
He spent until the early evening held up in that bilge weeping deep and sorrowful tears at the news that his instinct had, in fact, been right. Something awful was happening, and by the dates of the texts and phone messages that were left on his device, he was more than a week late.

It was hard for Kenshiro not to feel responsible. His ego combined with his trauma in the most hellish feeling of self hatred and rage. Who the fuck is this Father Wolf? He doesn't have a fucking clue who he's dealing with. It took Ken the several hours of processing to recuperate, letting the cold filtered lake water wash over him and run back out into the body of water from whence it came. It cleansed him of the pain long enough to think of revenge. In a sick way, by the time he was done with the panic attack, he was fine. Better than fine, he had a goal clear ahead of him, and it was more tangible than chasing the ghosts of his other family ever was. The entire Coven, after all, had not died.
Auri Auclair had reached out to him, asking him to a meeting at the beginning of the week which he'd missed. But looking at the date filled him with hope. That if she was going to be anywhere on this night, he knew exactly where that was. With the majority of his actual storage in the bilge, he set about unpacking his yearly attire for the Halloween Festival.

The others told him that he was supposed to change the costume every year, but Kenshiro failed to see the point. It was like a personification; the costume chooses you just as much as you choose the costume. As he pulled the two bags out of his big storage chest, he gave a very subtle grin. There was pain behind it, as he remembered some of the good times he'd had with it on. And now more people were gone. More, after the Stygian Snake, not from some random happenstance. He wasn't coming home to a drug overdose or a car crash funeral. He was coming back to a place where his final shot at a family was being terrorized by some nameless, faceless thing...

And it all has to do with Raven Jones... Who the fuck is Raven Jones?

His teeth gritted together, but he shook it off and proceeded to don his costume.

---

As the storm formed over the Cracker Island Historical District, the thunder somewhat muffled the loud popping blasts that signaled Kenshiro's descent from high altitude toward the dot below. The island was awash with lights, and roughly a quarter of a mile before he made contact, he began to put the breaks on. Flight wasn't direct, nor was it precise; rather Ken had gotten to be something of a master at sling-shotting himself around by slinging a few spells together. Enlighten, combined with the martial techniques of Ten Ton himself, meant that the amount of power that Ken could output from his legs and arms was like scaling up a grasshopper and an ant at the same time.
Manipulating his weight by shifting it at different points during flight, he could adjust for trajectory and accuracy like a guided artillery shell. With concentrated bursts of air trapped and pressurized by Phantom Hands, like how he crossed the water previously, he can make much harsher and more broad angle adjustments, as well as using them as airbag breaks that give up and bleed off velocity little by little.

All this pressurizing and popping makes Ken's Flight sound like a twin engine plane with a blown out propeller; all this to say that it was convenient for him that a localized storm had gathered in the area. Only, the full picture of it from above really gave the weather system away. He could tell from such a distance that it was clearly magical phenomena, as all around the horizon, no other clouds were so low and densely packed. Something was already awry, and it smelled like trouble. He took a low arc, readjusting to gain the trajectory he desired near the edge of the island. With the goal of getting a vantage point, his right hand reached into his favorite part of the costume, pulling out a small bundle of copper wire. Instantly, Purple Lux arced across the metal's surface, vibrating and finally vaporizing into nothing.
Time slowed to a crawl in Ken's mind, and the clarity allowed him to see all the faces that he was slowly hurdling toward. Thankfully, he was dressed in all black and backed by dark storm clouds by this point, ultimately making him difficult to spot from the noises alone as they took time to travel toward the ground.

He saw a familiar face. One he didn't like, and one that filled him with an impulsive rage that made him want to do bad deeds with his gifts. Emily G. Reed... Every story he heard, every interaction he'd witnessed, he knew she wasn't just any normal dick. She was an asshole, and Ken knew that he'd rather be a dick than an asshole... I may be dirty, but I'm not full of shit. Beside Emily was one of her cronies; Ken didn't have time to distinguish targets. He only guessed that they weren't getting killed left and right like Sycamore...
The spell effect ended, and Ken's free hand reached for another goodie. Pressure built around him slowly, a rather gentle shot flung him in a lazy way over the festival grounds. As he released and began to fly forward, he took a deep breath for Channeling his aura spell and yarded back like an MLB pitcher.

The wad of paper and colored gun powder zipped through the damp air toward Emily G. Reed and her freshly fixed costume. Ken only heard the gasping puff of air that the smoke bomb made as it released its payload all at once into a dusty cloud of smoke filled with black tar. It stuck to everything it wafted over, with Ken's dispersal of the air around him causing it to spin like a little tornado in one spot. Safe in mid air, Ken looked for the place with the most beautiful flowers, then landed somewhere inconspicuous nearby before immerging.
Surprising a port-o-potty user just getting out of their bathroom break, The Batman stood in full regalia with the sleek armor and the vaguely gothic aesthetic that he'd come to learn and like from his friend Leon and his family. He assumed they were here too, they always were on Halloween. However he had business, and frankly he hoped that Auri wouldn't take his dressing up as some kind of offence as he approached her Flower Stand. The triangle-shaped CLOSED sign wasn't such a beacon of hope, and he grumbled to himself about the damned rain. Dogwood bark was an essential part of his kit, and he pulled out a small bit of it from one of his utility belt's pockets.

Holding onto the bark tightly, Ken flicked his fingers together and apart a few times in seemingly random order, but to those whose eyes are opened, they'd see a glowing golden light overtake Kenshiro's hands, and from them poured a couple dozen tiny tree frogs of various colors and shapes. The largest one still fit well within Ken's palm, and roughly two dozen scrambled into neat and tidy rows. They even had little yukata tops on, and some were sporting headbands or other head gear. He spoke to them strictly in Japanese, and quiet so that any observing blinds would only assume he was a little crazy.
"Auri Auclair, guys. We need to find Auri; you know the Butterfly Priestess."
There was an immediate and resounding Hai!, at which point the frogs scattered to the winds as if they'd never been there in the first place. Now he was on the hunt again, and like usual, hunting without tracks.

Batman skulked into the rain, hoping to find Auri, or someone who could point him toward her.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Mood Music

The Temple of Charming and Graceful Individuals

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Members: Leon, Lynette, Elise, Casey, June and Mia Richoux, Andrade Salamente, Furio Natale | Direct Dialogue: None Outside Group | Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District

---

"Junior, stop! Stop, I'm trying to cook! Actually cook! You see this!?"
"What the hell, I've seen you cook! You can spare a little time, look at you. Hand in your pocket, some kind of cool dude chillin' at the stove. Rapide, Monsieur!"
"Maxwell the Fifth!? Control yourself or just go!"

Leon looked back from his position at the prep counter where he'd been chopping vegetables for the kebabs that Andrade had on their menu this year. This was an every year kind of thing, and while Leon hadn't missed one, he couldn't say the same for his siblings. It was nice to have them all home this year... Even with June being June. The young man was throwing his arm around Andrade's front, trying to hold an arm behind his back in some pugnacious display of pushiness that was classic of a recently assertive Maxwell V. Beside Leon, Casey sighed deeply, and he could see his younger brother's head shake. Then there was the increased heart rate, knowing that if it was going to be anyone who got it next, it was him. Leon thoughtfully bumped Casey's arm.
"Hey, listen, Furio and a few of the other guys are supposed to be getting here for the next shift, so why don't you and me sneak off a little early and get some drinks?"
Casey's reaction was near surprise, mostly because he was spaced out on the feeling of discomfort he got around his younger brother. There had always been something in June's eyes that terrified Casey, the kind of look that he saw in some of the Veterans who had a particularly hard time readjusting to civilian life. He always wondered if they should've switched places.

"What? O-oh, right, shit... The time, man, it fuckin' flies in a kitchen."
Leon gave a shallow curved smile to his brother.
"You should ask him for a job! You seem like you really loved doing this today." he replied to Casey, throwing his head over his shoulder at Andrade.
His expression brightened in return, and the nodding confirmation gave Leon enough confidence to push it a bit more. But before he could, Casey spoke again.
"You're right, I really should. Honestly I even loved chow duty when we were in the rear bases; I'd always volunteer to help. When he's not busy, y'know?"
"Of course dude! Yeah, it'll be real good for you, helps you transition fully into the mundane."

While the Temple of Charming and Graceful Individuals rented space for three different booths, the boys had decided to help by doing work for the food booth that Andrade was in charge of. It was always Leon's first choice, rather than selling clothes and swag or running the informational booth. With all three of the Richoux Brothers home for this particular Equinox. There was going to be a bigger celebration at the Temple the next day, but for now their celebration was service to the population of St. Portwell. Their Mother and her secretary happened to be at that booth overseeing things as their covers began to pick up for dinner. She was sure to never give her son the difficult shifts, and with all three being here this year, they'd very nearly finished the opening ten hours of the festival. Currently she was dealing with June, and was quick to pick up a folder planner full of the day's checklists to wrap him over the head with.
As she did, the two plastic faces smacked together causing a clapping noise that made Casey jump again. Leon felt it, and the increased heart rate again, and shook his head.

"Ma, can you not, please?"
"Leon Hunter, do not butt in."
"Yeah Leon Hunter, or you won't get any good boy points from Mommy."
"You should stock up on them, Junie. Oh, wait, you just collect boys, nothing to do with points."
"Oh sure, jump in front of the bullet, classic Casey. Why don't you make yourself useful and go bomb another hospital in the desert?"

Leon's eyes flicked between his hands and the front of the booth where there was a line of people waiting for kebabs and burgers made by Andrade Salamente. He figured he may have some adjacent fans, and some of them may want to see a boxing demonstration, but doubted they were really here for that. He kept his hands down, laying the knife to rest on the cutting board as he spun to look at Junior. His cocky smiling face stared back, and Leon gave the best disappointed father look he could give. Casey hadn't looked up, hadn't even stopped chopping vegetables... But Leon could feel the muscles tensing as Orange Lux flowed through his brother's body.
He and Casey had a complex relationship as children, and Leon carried a great deal of regret over the circumstances; something he sought to rectify whenever he could.

But surprisingly, it was Andrade who threw the decisive action.
"What the fuck did you just say to him!?"
Leon saw Andrade pull the cast iron pan from the stove with the peppers and onions inside still sizzling, and gripped it like a club before pushing his weight into Casey.
"When he could've fucking died? You say that to your brother? Your Father would beat you senseless... Madame Lynette, please get him out of my fucking kitchen!"
"You talk about my Dad like you've got his dick up your a-"
Leon started forward, ready to go for June's collar, but ultimately the Mother Lion got in the way.

Swapping to French entirely, Lynette began to lay into Junior who ultimately shrank into his own clothes before finally being dragged out of the booth by her and down the causeway toward God knew where with the secretary of the week right behind them. The three remaining men drew breaths of relief toward one another, each of them knowing the fury that was out there for that young man. Andrade and Leon exchanged a look, both turning their heads to the crowd, who at the front had been exposed to the yelling. They tried their best to ward off curious parties, but eventually Andrade offered some food up to those effected until the line cleared out. When they had another moment to breathe, Andrade turned back to Casey and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around him.
"You know we'd never think of you like that my man. I'm sure even he doesn't, he just says-"

"The most hurtful thing possible."

The three of them spoke at the same time, and while Casey didn't look up from his work, he did laugh along with Leon and Andrade, who both gave him some reassuring pats on the back. Around the same time, Furio and the girls were showing up at the booth.

"Oh my God, it's Lee Lee!"
Mia seemed to be in a good mood today, which was good, because it seemed like it was starting to rain. She'd need it being bored all night. She brushed past Casey like he didn't exist, giving Leon a big hug and practically crawling into his arms. Behind her, Elise's quiet presence filled in the booth, and while Andrade and Furio exchanged pleasantries and the other two were occupied with cuddling, Elise took the time to notice her little brother's expression.
"Mum said Junie's on a time out? She's got him on the merchandise booth now, and he's pouting like a little kid. She asked us to come over here with Furio while the girls hang out with June and listen to him whine."

It was hard for Casey to hide his fading frustration, so he simply took a deep breath.
"I implied he was a pedophile, so he told me I should go bomb a hospital." Elise's brow furrowed.
"Over...?"
"It's more complicated than it deserves being, E. Don't worry, he's fine." Leon piped up, Mia the Barnacle having finally unsuctioned from him.
"Fine? Lee, they cannot be around one another! What the fuck are we supposed to do for a week?"

Leon scoffed and waved his had at his Sister. That same moment, Furio came into the picture, looking between the siblings. Once they stopped talking, he took it as a sign of acknowledgement.
"Just to let you know, Leon? Eight Street is out in force tonight, but I've seen pockets of your friends clustering up together.
The Big Man nodded his head, finally pulling his apron off to swap off with his baby sister. Underneath was a shirt with a clown face print on the front. A zombie clown, complete with cracker brains that said "You Crack Me Up" in bloody halloween letters. Unlike some of the others, he had to take his costume off to start work.
Casey, accurately, took this as a sign that they were finished their shift, and pulled his apron off similarly. He had gone low effort, wearing his tans from his last deployment along with his Channeler on his right hand. Handing it to his Sister, he hugged Elise tightly and spoke into her ear.

"I promise it won't be my problem, Sis. It's not me."
She hugged him back, tucking her face into his shoulder.
"I know, Honey, I know. It's not fair to you. It isn't."

---

Mood Music

Leon & Casey

---

Mentions:Nobody Relevant | Direct Dialogue: Adora Phoenix-Prescott/@Punished GN, Trisha Vanburen/@FernStone | Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District

---

Eventually the two men managed to escape the booth after Leon had finished putting his costume back on. It was a rather simple ordeal of a nightgown with big red slippers, a quilt over him, and an old woman's nightcap tucked over a wolf head mask that pulled entirely over Leon's head. He had the mask pulled up like a hat while walking about the Festival so he could look at Casey, both of them with a beer in hand. There were quite a few faces he recognized, and Leon pointed them out casually while telling Casey about some of the good times he'd missed.

Not because of his time in the army, mind you, but the fact that he didn't get to be part of the Sycamore Coven. One imagined that the slippery middle Richoux would've managed to sneak into the Coven, but it seemed like whenever he was on the verge of getting into trouble, all of a sudden Lynette would be attentive again. He knew what it really was; that she'd been monitoring them all no matter how much she pretended like she didn't care. That's, of course, how she framed it. Caring. Letting Leon go out and do whatever the hell he wanted while the rest of them were forced into lives that they didn't want. It took their Father disappearing for her to let anything else happen...

The two of them walked along, sharing pleasantries in between introspections until Leon caught the noise from someone getting into a fight in his keen ear. Leon openly began to chug his beer, which lit Casey's face up as he pounded his back in solidarity. By the time he was done, Leon had patted him on the chest in a directive to follow, which he was very familiar with as a soldier, and readied himself for what he couldn't hear but his wolf brother could. Leon pulled the mask over his face so that whatever was happening wouldn't spot Leon Richoux the celebrity.
But it was strange... There were... Bees?

As the two rounded the corner, they were staring at ass rolling around on the ground and covered in bees. The honey pot, Casey thought to himself as he quickly moved to stop the fight. Leon could barely see in the wolf mask, and pulled it up again reluctantly to see a familiar face getting the better of someone.
"Holy shit, Adora!? Hey, Casey grab the one underneath, grab her! Girls, girls, Ladies, what the fuck!?" Leon felt Adora's power from the Trinity as his hands wrapped around her arms to pull her up.
Meanwhile, Casey was also being slowly covered in bees, and was thankful he'd worn full BDU tans with gloves, as he had very little exposed skin save for his face and head.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Mood Music

Edict

---

Mentions: Nobody Relevant Direct Dialogue: Linqian Han/@FernStone, Britney Williams/@Punished GN, Layla Hyacinthus/@Estylwen Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District

---

There was a great deal of relief as Vashti Nour cleared the area. While the rain didn't let up, it did begin to follow its dark cloud owner about the fairground to give some small relief to the Sycamites in the little huddle. At first he wasn't sure how things were going to go, his finger clenched as tightly as it could against the drop lever of the case. His friend screamed for the drop on the lizard woman, its magical ammunition capable of shredding augmented flesh by disrupting the Lux related spell or effect associated with it. He figured that while it may not be enough to deal with her once she was pissed off, if he acted first there may be a few moments where he'd catch her in that vulnerable state between transformations. Whether he managed to actually make the shot or not was a more complicated matter, and most of the aforementioned relief came from the idea that he didn't need to test it now.

With Vashti walking away, the small group was left to their own devices. Edict felt determined to not let the girls out of his sight, especially if Bean Vanburen was rolling with her. When she offered to dry their clothes, he humbly accepted whatever help she could give as even he wasn't stupid enough to step on the toes of a VB. His Father always taught him to be respectful of those people, said it was Old Money like that which kept them in business. The rich and the poor, a cycle of thieving and skimming and scrimping, all with the understanding that it was the man in the middle who would foot the bill. The sucker.
He knew that Sabrina wasn't her old man... But hearing her clip Vashti's wings with authority made him pass a second more subtle look in her direction as she finished her task. It was still wet and cold, but at least they weren't soaked.

That's when Linqian approached him. He could feel her shaking slightly, and chalked it up to the cold rather than trying to pry into her leery mind and find out. As she hugged around him, he felt her purposeful tug upward, and he gripped his arms around her back to support her and pass on a little warmth. But then, she started yapping in his ear about something he almost couldn't make out over the din of the festival. Slowly parsing it out, his brow furrowed into a v-shape as his eyes passed between Britney and Layla. In that moment, he was one hundred percent sure that what he'd been approached with the other day at that meeting had everything to do with little Layla Hyacinthus.
Edict had never paid her much mind. Probably because he'd never been in a position to deal with the House of Cards. How could he have ever known she was connected like that without having seen her at some sort of event? He wasn't allowed to go to those until he began really earning on the streets, and since then their merry band of murderers had taken something of a dive. He had been propositioned about their takeover, even, which in the end had been nixed by one negotiation or another.

”Though going to a haunted house at our age is fucking lame without getting absolutely wasted first.”
Correct.
He didn't actually speak, however, simply giggling to himself. Before she could fully let go, Edict took her right hand gently, and subtly stuck it into his left pocket as he casually spun both their bodies. He was masterful at slight of hand maneuvers like this, blocking her arm reaching into his pocket with the bulk of his coat. Inside was what felt like a small brick wrapped in paper.
"Grab and hold, its yours."
And with that same subtle movement, Edict stepped in front of Linqian, the motion allowing her to hold the envelope as it slid out from his pocket. In the same motion, he fluffed the coat on his shoulders to insure it blocked the sight of Linqian stuffing the envelope full of money into her back alongside the pistol he wasn't asking for yet.

Frankly, he wasn't confident that the night didn't have more surprises ahead.
"You may still need that other thing though."
His head turned, approaching Britney as her smile overtook his mind. He could feel the burn in his throat as he began to instinctively unfurl the lotus' roots in complete disregard for his channeler still secure in his breast pocket. It wasn't any kind of real spell ever, more like a leaking of pure Pink Lux that just permeated an area with the general sensation of being trapped in a box full of one way mirrors. It took a White Lux user to actually tell what was happening, unless you were close enough to him to see the glowing of the veins in his throat as the energy escaped.

The look of gratitude, inside still hiding something I could never get to the bottom of. Would I be satisfied if I did? Would I kill her just as easily?

He shook the thought out of his head, approaching Britney and smiling with a gentle smile as he reigned his energy in. As soon as the feeling had come over the surrounding, it was gone again and pink smoke curled from his nostrils.
"I'm sorry for being an asshole to you there. It won't happen again, I promise."
"You told me you never wanted to see me again: First time we see each other again and I'm doing the same shit? You had every right to be mad."

But before he could lock her down, she was off toward the booze line about something or another. She'd always been like that, and while it annoyed him then, the irony of what he said left him with a genuine smile on his face. At least until it was just Linqian and Layla.
"Linqian, please go with them... I'm gonna stick around with Layla, make sure that we spread the firepower around a little bit, y'know? You're better with those people than I am anyway. We'll catch up, and yes I'll take a Stel. Thank you."
Whether she believed him or not was her call, but if he couldn't talk to Britney about what happened and what he knew, he'd be able to at least try and soak the truth out of this junior Coven member. He didn't even wait for her to leave earshot before he started trying to butter Layla up.

"So how have you been, Hon? Not sure if you remember me at all, but my name's Greyson. I didn't see you at the meeting the other night, you not want to show up? You didn't miss much."
At worst she wouldn't take the bait... Well, actually at worst, she was in deep with the House, and she may have some way of knowing he tampered with their agent the day before. But, he barely remembered the girl, never mind recalling a reason to be afraid of her. What was the worst that could happen?

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

The Richouxs Return (And also a TOAD???)

NPC Elise Richoux

Elise.Richoux

27 | Elise Richoux | She/Her

---

"Bless our fucked up Family and keep us safe from harm."

Description:

The Eldest Richoux daughter, Elise Simone has always had her feet and legs beaten into a direction that she was expected to walk. As her daughter, Lynette had expectations for Elise that mirrored her husband's expectations for their firstborn child. From the moment she was able to walk, she was being goaded and coaxed into Kindling by her parents. Once she was, which was significantly earlier than her elder brother who was two years older than her, her first lessons of spell casting were conducted by Lynette herself, whose goal was to imprint upon her a sense of duty and responsibility that went beyond Gravity's desire to see his family fortune and precious remaining Artifacts kept safe. The way she saw it, if she had some sort of gift for clairvoyance, her daughter had to have the same gift.

It was slow going, the process of finding out that she did not in fact have those same inclinations. A large, bitter pill that Lynette was forced to swallow as her daughter grew older and less inclined to magics involving the observation of the future. At first, Lynette couldn't think of anything else but to brute force the affinity, exposing the girl to constant White Lux energy in the form of a constant bombardment of spells constantly monitoring her aura, her actions, and generally surveilling her one hundred percent of the time. Long past traumatic, Elise was essentially a prisoner of her Mother's eye as she tried to have something of a life of her own. Held back even from joining a public school like Leon, it took until Gravity's disappearance for Lynette to finally get the hint that she wasn't getting anywhere.

At the time, Elise needed time to heal herself. Rather than trap her daughter any longer, Lynette urged her to New York where she had spent her formative years. The same Coven Lynette came from accepted Elise with open arms, and she was gone from St. Portwell before the Stygian Snake's invasion began. In those luscious green forests of the North East, Elise found sisterhood and acceptance where before she'd found only expectation and observation. Not only that, but she found that she enjoyed working and collaborating with others, as well as caretaking and pampering. Slowly but surely, Elise found her mundane niche before she ever felt some sort of spell that connected with her. Now, at twenty-seven, she's come into her own in a very big way. The experience and skills she gained not only concerning her personal spellcraft, but in mundane life styling. This has made her an incredibly important face for the Temple of Charming and Graceful Individuals, and as her relationship has repaired with her mother, she's become quite the reborn spiritual leader as well.

Currently she's in charge of The Temple's Corporate face, most of her work coming out of the Temple's hotel Chateau de'Archange located in an isolated part of South-Eastern Oregon roughly an hour outside St. Portwell.

Abstraction:

Elise is an Orange White Adept whose Channeler is an ancient stuffed bear.
Elise spent the first part of her life basically ignoring her Orange Lux, rarely having the kind of courage it took to cast any of the spells in the first place. Lynette attempted to develop a spell alongside the girl to access her own prescient gifts that she'd assumed existed. Where Elise actually excels is in analytical detection. Rather than directly reading the mind, Elise has developed a repertoire of spells meant to read, store and recall individuals and their personal actions and quirks. She's also become somewhat famous for her magical moving pictures, which she creates by utilizing her wide databank and almost video-camera like observation to enchant pictures which move as if they're miniature video screens.

NPC Casey Richoux

Casey.Richoux

25 | Casaeu "Casey" Richoux | He/Him

---

"I can't turn my back on them. They don't deserve it."

Description:

Second son of Gravity and the Prophet, Casaeu Gerard Richoux was born at a tumultuous time in the Temple's history. Focused on the ever-increasing danger of butting headlong into St. Portwell's magical underworld, Maxwell and Lynette had enough on their plate that the distraction of another child hadn't been on either of their minds. It's too bad their habitual comfort-seeking in one another couldn't wait. As Casey grew up, time seemed to forget him from his own personal observation. The only child his mother didn't have the time to breast-feed, it wasn't often either of his parents were present in his life until they managed to wrangle support to their side just in time for Junior to be born. While his youngest sister Mia struggled and troubled her way out of family obligation, Casey seemed mostly left to his own devices.

The only thing that seemed important to his Father, who only really included him in the picture as a stick for Leon to beat on, was that he be Kindled. Year after year it didn't happen, even after Gravity's disappearance. With a lack of nostalgic good times that his siblings had for the love of life they'd been given, Casey seemed distant and cold. It wasn't until he found the courage to leave his surroundings that he did Kindle. After years of agonizing over what would happen if he fled the Cult he'd been born into; about what the consequences would be knowing there was a world of magic out there that he couldn't see, Casey made the choice to join the Military. Figuring that it didn't matter if he lived or died, Casey sought active duty in the name of the Mundane government that he imagined may provide him with the family he never had.

He was right, and in the middle of a deployment, in the middle of a fire fight, Casey Richoux was Kindled in the blood of his dying battle brothers as he stood to hold the ground that nobody else could. Since then, he's seen several more deployments, eventually making his way toward desk work in the Reserves. While typically not interested in dealing with his family's dysfunction, he's been pulled back to St. Portwell at the behest of Leon, who has wanted to bury the hatched with his brother for many years. It was therapeutic for both parties, and since then he's come to terms with the circumstance of his youth. He's begun to make genuine and active motions to return to the fold of his first family, even coming to develop a renewed relationship with his Mother, which we know is probably not good.

Abstraction:

Casey is an Orange White Adept whose Channeler is an old combat glove.
Casey had always seen his siblings studying and pouring over the Richoux tomes, but given his unique circumstance those dusty old books were totally useless to him until he was much older. Being born from such a venerable noble line, Casey shares a strong aptitude for Orange Lux. Unlike the others, he has an uncanny knack for spellcraft, developing a laundry list of basic enchantments that focus around the improvement and usage of Firearms, Body Armor and preparation of Ammunition. Weightless guns, endless magazines, spell-infused bullets, plate strengthening: An operation that he's since taken into the Temple, making him responsible for occasional duties as their part-time armorer.

NPC June Richoux

Maxwell "June".Richoux V

23 | Maxwell "June" Richoux V. | He/Him

---

"Dad never left: He lives on in our blood and tradition."

Description:

Probably the most intense out of the Siblings Richoux, Maxwell Selen L'mond Richoux V is known by the title Junior, which he proudly carries in the form of the pet name June. This hot-headed lion of a man carries a great deal of weight in the form of insecurities that drive him toward emotional outbursts, these moments typically ending in some sort of spectacle. In truth, June feels strongly at odds with the world he's been placed into, finding mundane life difficult to adjust to. As such, he's become something of a sheltered and hermited individual whose time spent among the outside world is done with great frustration and angst. This quiet discontent has slowly developed over the years into something of a superiority complex, his opinion of Blinds exceedingly low as a result.

Rather than correct the behavior, the vast majority of people in his life encourage this behavior. Lady Richoux has few qualms about a sense of bitterness toward the Blind and mundane, so long as their own flock are considered as some sort of exception. This is not always the case, and there are plenty of instances of June taking advantage of his position in one way or another. That being said, he's often seen as charismatic by those Kindled Acolytes who he keeps in his company, and naturally he's found himself in charge of something akin to a sect of his family's organization.

He wouldn't be so dangerous if he wasn't smart to boot. With a genius level IQ, June has been taking college classes since he was sixteen, studying at an Ivy League University and coming out with a master's degree in theology with a minor in child psychology. Currently in the middle of his doctorate, Max is able to use his position in the Temple to claim work experience and inflate his hours of service in order to qualify as soon as possible. For the purpose of his employment, June's been brought onto the Temple's active staff as a youth pastor. In reality, he's found a great talent in sniffing out people with potential for Kindling, and easing them toward the process using the methods laid out by the Richoux Tomes.

June is responsible for a youth camp in the spring and summer months, living his life in the Eastern part of the state among the Cascades. He returns for the late autumn/winter seasons, where he lives a very different life than the clean, child friendly façade he puts on at the camp.

Abstraction:

June is an Orange White Adept whose Channeler is a Rosary of New Light.
As a student of the Richoux Tomes, June has had access to one of the most comprehensive Orange Spellbooks ever compiled by European Adepts. His White Lux, however, has truly informed his personal Spellbook. With an affinity for Aura reading and detection, June has honed his Orange Lux abilities to suit his purposes as a Kindler of Blinds. Most frequently, June uses his Orange Lux to enchant items that are meant to encourage the Kindling of could-be Adepts. In his earlier years, June dabbled in computer technology, and still spends scant spare time enchanting pieces of tech with Orange-White mixed spells that are meant to spy on and keep track of the users.

NPC Tennogama

Toad Emperor.Tennogama the Robust

1437 in Shimmer | Toad Emperor Tennogama the Robust | He/Him

---

"The Pact remains unbroken! Fight, you Toads, like the Empire's last soldiers!"

Description:

Originally a Cane Toad Daimyo hailing from the realm of Gam, Tennogama first came to his throne after a bloody civil war saw his troops victorious in taking the capitol for themselves. It's said that he was the voice which unified the Amphibians of Gam, and that his army which took the capitol consisted of all creeds and faiths of their vast swampland home. By the time Sage of the Ten Paths Kai arrived through his secret paths between dimensions, said war had been long finished for thousands of years. Instead, he found new political unrest as territorial disputes and invading forces from an altogether different realm began to make their move upon the Toad Empire's vulnerable borders. Sage Kai managed to gain audience with the Emperor, whose generally rigid and imperious attitude was won over by Kai through means that are lost to legend and unwilling to be spoken of by Tennogama himself.

What is known is that Kai offered his services to the Emperor, who eventually came around to making a wager: That if Kai was successful in repelling this foreign aggression, Tennogama would enter into a Pact. Pacts, an ancient form of Summoning Magic, allow the user to loosely bind the essence of a Greater Apparition to an artifact that can be used to commune with and accept power from an Apparition without Aberrance occurring. In return, the Apparition is worshipped in their own realm, but are also deified by the other party involved in the Pact. In his hubris, Tennogama was negligent in setting up an alternative, assuming that the painful death the little human would go through was going to be punishment enough.

It didn't take long for the Sage to prove the Emperor wrong, and a stunned Tennogama was true to his word as he entered into a pact with Sage Kai. Of course, this was all part of Kai's trickery; his most brilliant plans and schemes often caught prideful spirits off-guard. Many of these pacts can still be found in their original scrolls within the annals of the Gold clan's library monastery. However, some were trusted to branch clans, gifted as artifacts of worship that they're meant to tend to and protect. Some are unruly spirits who are less than satisfied with their containment, while others learned to respect and revere the Sage who had hooked them into his schemes one way or another. Tennogama is in the latter category, who managed to not only find admiration for Kai, but for the branch clan who were left in charge of caring for his essence in the Shimmer. For almost fifteen hundred years, the pact has remained in the Shimmer in one form or another.

This usually jovial spirit can now be found by a small lake just outside St. Portwell, where a hidden shrine has been erected in order to house the Pact. His relationship with his latest (and now only) retainer is far different than any relationship Tennogama has had in quite some time. While invigorated by the prospect of another life like he'd had following Sage Kai directly, Tennogama is keeping a secret from Ken: The Pact is keeping the Great Toad alive. In his own world, the Emperor's body has long withered from disuse, and while he's able to maintain leadership through the communion with his most loyal servants, he will never be able to physically recover from the strictures of the Pact.
Therefore, while he can and has offered his power directly to Ken, he's reluctant to do so often, rather searching for the next Daimyo worthy of the seat and the crown.

Abstraction:

As an Apparition, Tennogama's abilities only extend as far as he's able to spread his influence. For close to a thousand years, the Murakin Clan harbored Tennogama in the hazy foothills of the Kanto region of Japan, where his still relatively young and fresh essence was able to permeate the ground, water and air. Now in this strange land, weakened by his long term disconnection from his homeland and stripped of the residual energy he'd left behind in Japan, he's more a refugee than any kind of territorial beast.
But as a warrior, one who warred and killed and bloodied himself for his Empire, Tennogama is just as dangerous as he was thousands of years ago. While not some grand Multiversal threat, lesser apparitions need only feel the weight behind his massive padded fingers and hands crushing them to death or the equally deadly swordsmanship that the creature displays to know that he is truly leagues above common beasts. Like the Daimyo beneath him, Tennogama's sense for battle and combat is preternatural, and his immense strength translates into surprising speed while his massive girth and powerful Emotional Field leave him equipped to receive and return damage at devastating scales.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Ken Murakin

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"Life ain't that complex, so chill the fuck out."

_______________________________________________ Kenshiro "Gamaken" Murakin He/Him/Himself | 28 | Japanese | 5'9" | 153lbs _______________________________________________ Hunting _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "The movies always make Samurai look glamorous. It's dirt work." ___________________________________ [+] Wild Upbringing ⫻ Ken's upbringing was, like many Adept Legacies, fraught with danger and violence to which he was purposefully exposed. As such, Ken is always expecting trouble just around the corner, is unsurprised when it appears, and well prepared to deal with it. Son of Gama ⫻ Ken was born to a clan responsible for defending certain temples and artifacts located deep in the Kanto mountains, where it's said the honored spirits of Shimmer's natural environment are free to roam and come for veneration. He has spent almost all his life involved with or surrounded by Apparitions, and he has a wide knowledge of the different spirits and mystical creatures found living in or passing through the Shimmer. Trained in the Arts ⫻ Like a member of any other Palette Clan, Ken was trained from the moment he was able in order to defend his home and the legacy of the Gama clan. To such an end, he's studied the Hundred Scrolls of Master Kai, memorized and mastered the Gama Pact, and is a direct student of the famed "Ten Ton" Takedo, whose signature technique consists of the weaving of Purple Lux not only into one's blows, but to their weapons as well. Toad Sage ⫻ Ken has a close relationship with his branch's Patron Apparition; a mountain spirit known as the Emperor Toad, whose wisdom and patience are matched only by the grandeur of his rotund form. When it comes to the Gama Pact and its association with the Kin Clan, Ken has been taught things in desperation that the Emperor certainly wishes he hadn't disclosed. This gives Ken an uncanny mastery over the clan's Gold Summoning techniques. The Last Samurai ⫻ When Ken's branch was eliminated, he was unprepared and barely managed to escape with his life. Now, all that he has left is the Emperor Toad, whom he smuggled out of his nearly destroyed village and brought back to St. Portwell It's there that the Emperor is kept, in an isolated lake somewhere outside the city limits. Ken's property is a small boathouse permanently docked there, and he serves as the Emperor's last and most distinguished guard. Strange Survivor ⫻ With all the strange bullshit that he's gone through in his life, Ken has an uncanny knack for pushing himself beyond his own limits. Struggle, hardship, these are things he's simply used to; and his mind is hardened to his own suffering. Its left him with a clear head and equally clear goals, and a near superhuman level of bodily willpower in order to meet those ends that he craves.

Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I'm pretty good at blocking my face." Ken doesn't exactly have any particular sense of style or impression of himself as a fashionable man. While he's made some headway in living like a normal Blind, with a job and a place to live that he can go back to safely and stash magical shit beneath the floorboards, he's not particularly concerned with appearance overall. As far as his physical form, Ken's interdimensional traveling has left his body in something of a suspension since the time of his clan's decimation. As such, his appearance is something close to a twenty-three year old version of himself. Clean shaven, with a long and thick mane of dark brown hair that hides his ears, Ken's face has a bit of a triangular shape with a slightly pronounced inward slope of the chin and forehead. Accompanying, his nose is somewhat flat though not overly wide, and sits perched above a slightly small mouth. His time in America has introduced him to things like tattoos where he had been isolated from them before, and he's since gotten several both in commemoration of his abilities and his lost Family. Prime among them is a back mural depicting a mountainside, wilderness, amphibians; especially these, of which thirty can be found living among the piece. In speaking of his body, it was always expected of him to maintain peak physical condition; which he has managed to do without the esoteric old school torture exercises his Father and Uncles regularly put their kids through. Clothes are usually comfortable things for him, having spent his childhood basically in Fundoshi and sandals and upgrading to robes when he became a Kindled Adept. Nothing overly tight or form-fitting unless it's able to stretch. As such, catching him alone on his property or on the rare occasions he's in town will see him in simple t-shirts and sweatpants, usually in open toed sandals or flip flops no matter how cold it gets. He has managed to gather up something of a wardrobe from different realms he's visited, and often incorporates similar methodology when acquiring said garments. This leads to having a unique and somewhat exotic look despite him neither caring about coordination, nor about general sense overall. Often times a Blind will ask him what brand his shirt is, or what store he buys from, and he always tells them he shops "Out of State".

_{Psychology
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"I'd like to say I'm beyond 'Fuck It.', but I'm still kicking these rocks over so..."

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Ken's family was killed. By whom? Ultimately he's still trying to figure that out. Most of his adult life has been spent tracking the trail of his family's artifacts and protecting the Emperor from their Fiends meant to prevent his progress. While he loves his Second Family in the Sycamore Tree Coven, he loves the idea of avenging his clan and restoring it to an honored position just a bit more. Despite his pleas, the other Palette Clans are in no open position to help, and as such his ultimate goal is to achieve that revenge and redemption himself. Isolated from his culture and hiding in an equally strange world of magic, one day he will return to the way of life he was born into. He has vowed this not only to the Emperor, but to the spirits of his Family which he carries close.
But for now, something new is Amiss in St. Portwell, his refuge from the charred remains of his temple, and perhaps it will lead to new clues in his ultimate journey.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Ken is a person who knows loss. He knew it before Father Wolf, before the Stygian Snake even. While he can empathize with those who have lost loved ones in the most recent tragedy, he is a man who is isolated somewhat by his own pain. As a teen, when he assisted with the War against the Snake, he still knew the joy of his people's mutual love and respect for the trials they together knew. He hoped one day that he would lead the branch, but not in the way he does now. Living his life in hermitage, traveling from Verse to Verse like a wandering hunter in search of prey, these tendencies only serve to remove him further from the cycle of life that many of his dear companions know.
In spite of this, his bonds with the Adepts of St. Portwell were born of better, simpler times. These feelings still drum up feelings of great love and ultimately pride. He considers himself lucky to be included among them, and when he is among his Covenmates, he manages a jovial and friendly outward-facing demeanor that somewhat diffuses his otherwise intense desire for action.

SECRETS ⫻ There's only one big secret that Ken makes sure is kept no matter what: Where he's been. Only a select few of his closest Covenmates even have a clue that he travels like he does, and he makes it a point to insure that they stay as uninvolved in his private family business as possible. Not only does he not trust them to keep the artifacts of his family safe should he find any, but he believes his secrecy on the matter is a key factor in protecting his Covenmates and preventing his greatest fears from coming true. Aside from that, he is hiding a small stash of artifacts that are not involved with the Coven; rather he uses them as bartering currency with Adepts of other Verses in order to get vital supplies on his long excursions.

SEXUALITY ⫻ Lonely? Please hold him, he's sad.

FEARS ⫻ While previously alluded to, Ken's greatest direct fear is the repetition of history: That due to his meddling with forces beyond himself, he'd stumble upon something that would give his enemies reason to target his friends. Despite his drive for revenge, Ken wouldn't be able to live with himself if that quest were to fall back on his Covenmates. After all, none of them deserved it. In response, Ken isn't an overly welcoming individual when it comes to his personal property or personal space if he's meeting the occasional familiar face outside the Shimmer. Beyond this, he has Emperor Toad to worry about, who isn't fussy about offerings but is most certainly fussy about feeling protected. Thus, there are certain occasions where he will ask trusted friends to stay in his cabin and protect the Emperor and his new shrine hidden in the nearby hills outside St. Portwell. Both parties are left fairly lonely without one another, despite their vaguely antagonistic.

REPUTATION IN OLD COVEN ⫻ In the days of the War against the Stygian Snake, Ken's position was strange. He was, by all accounts, a hostile combatant at first. Some key Sycamore Tree members had "gathered" artifacts that belonged to the Palette Clans. It was Ken's first assignment to track the thieves down and bring the artifacts back. When he arrived, he made his pursuit, but found that those thieves who had absconded with the artifacts were using them to combat a Grand Apparition: A Multiversal threat, and something that permitted him to exercise his right among the clans to authorize the temporary requisition of the items in question. From there, he became a willing ally and eventually a well liked, but somewhat isolated, member of their ranks.

ROLE IN THE BATTLE AGAINST THE STYGIAN SNAKE ⫻ Ken played a role of advisor and combatant, assisting and working with other Coven Members who were struggling to develop and control their Lux. While the more gifted flaunted their skills, Ken worked with the rest to make sure that when the time came, everyone would be pulling their weight. In the climactic conclusion, the final battle, Ken's own natural talents shined as he reached deep into the Emperor's Kingdom to summon the Imperial Toad Court: Powerful Apparitions attached to the Gama Pact who provided stalwart defenders and fierce attackers in the final effort.

FLAWS ⫻ Ken's so used to being alone and doing things his own way that he rarely has the mind to make contact with a friend on his own, never mind including them in his plans or adventures. While the gentle guiding hand isn't gone, Ken has lost a great deal of patience since the massacre of his clan, leading him to make more rash decisions with less patience and a lot less concern for his safety. While he knows he has duties, there's a near bloodlust that he feels when he thinks of his desire for revenge, and it urges him ever onward toward danger that he's often unsure of his ability to overcome. Therefore, it may be just a hair worse that he's become somewhat cocky about it all; that his continued risk taking has wounded him gravely but he simply has no plans of stopping. In a strange way, he wonders if he actually likes what's happened to him.

_{Backstory
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"Fuck off."

Kenshiro Murakin isn't from St. Portwell. He's not from America, or even the continental North America. His past has little baring on the local area, and were it not for one incident some twelve years ago involving theft of one of his Clan's ally's most sacred scrolls of Sealing, the two locations would never have been connected. However, some teenagers in a city called St. Portwell were having Apparition troubles. That same time, Ken was coming into his own as a man of his clan; and he was being trusted to reconcile the problem. Due to his gifts and talents, he was selected as part of the team and dispatched to track the thieves to their source. When they arrived in St. Portwell, a strategy of blending and patient waiting was adopted, leadership opting to wait for the scrolls to be used in order to best track their position by the nascent energy they were filled with.
A week passed before they were wrapped up in a conflict that they had never intended to be wrapped up in; a conflict which led to an ominous situation as only Kenshiro managed to escaped from the attack by the Stygian Snake with his life intact. It turned out he only escaped because of the efforts of the Sycamore Tree Coven; the very same small army of young people who managed to steal the scrolls he was looking for. Understanding that his own allies had perished at the hands of the danger here in St. Portwell, Ken decided to dedicate himself to assisting in their plight and overseeing their usage of Clan property until such a time that the threat was eliminated. While he was unable to bolster their effort with more bodies beyond his own, he relished in being able to display a natural sense for instruction to an audience who was not only willing, but in dire need of trained guidance.

Kenshiro became Ken, had English imprinted into him by a Pink Lux user, and despite all the danger in St. Portwell, he had something of a Rumspringa for himself. He discovered the somewhat decadent culture of Western America that he'd been hidden from for so long, and beyond that he had made lasting friendships and relationships with people who accepted him despite his constant culture shock. By the time the Stygian Snake was neutralized and he had to return home to Japan, he didn't want to. He vowed that one day he would come back to St. Portwell as the head of his clan, and he would establish connections between them and the Sycamore Tree Coven.
For a time after his return, things went as normal. Despite his first mission taking almost two years to complete, the Clan Daimyos readily recognized his effort once they were exposed to his memories and experiences through a trusted source. After such an effort, Ken was fast-tracked toward leadership as well as a teaching position of his own. A couple years passed and Ken never made it back to St. Portwell, but he stayed busy as he began his life among his family again. Despite this, his fond memories remained there, though his village's hermited existence prevented the exchange of letters and correspondence from those American Heroes.

One fateful night, Ken's village was attacked. Demons, Fiends, barreled their way through the township under magical camouflage, rending the clan heads and any leadership they could find before stealing the clan scrolls and artifacts and disappearing into the darkness like they'd never been there. Ken and a few other Clan Toughs pursued the fiends into their own realm, but lost them in the endless hopping before they could catch up. They fell into a trap, catching Ken in a moment of foolishness as he expended too much energy to teleport the rest of them to safety.
He attempted to push the teleportation, but as he immerged on the other side, he found that only he had actually made it out. What sprawled in front of him was a scene more horrible than he could have imagined. In their pursuit, the away team had avoided the Cursed Flames that descended upon the village, burning the souls of the people there and leaving a vacant, hollow town of corpses. Bereaved and in fear, Ken rushed for the main temple at the top of the hill, where he found the flames leeching away the essence of their Patron Apparition. Forbidden from adjoining by the pact between them, the great toad accepted being sealed into Ken's Channeler, using his own blood to draw 蝦蟇(Gama - Toad) on the headband's front. Near exhaustion, Ken carried out the sealing and instinctively teleported himself far from that place.

Winding up in the only other place on Earth he felt comfortable, Ken woke up the next morning on a St. Portwell rooftop overlooking the bay facing west toward the Pacific Ocean. He felt like in that moment his life was over: but the power within the headband spoke through their shared Golden Lux energy. Words of encouragement from a soul that had seen his ancestors walk the same Earth that he'd been born to for hundreds of years.
"We have rebuilt before, Grandson. We shall rebuild again. The pact remains unbroken."
He had argued and cursed and raged at the spirit, and the infinitely patient wisdom of the Toad Emperor held its last protector's hand through each step of the grieving process as they came. For a year, the two slept in the wilderness in illegal dugout hideaways as Ken regained his confidence and desire for action. The Emperor, on occasion, recalls being thankful that he'd been sealed as he had, otherwise the faith of his single worshipper may not have been a strong enough tether to the world of cognition... But eventually Ken immerged from the woods and managed to find some of the remaining Sycamore in St. Portwell.

The heartbreak he felt hearing about the schism and how it broke the Coven he loved apart wasn't so bad; he'd come to accept loss of what he loved. But what he couldn't accept was that nobody seemed to want to fight to put it back together. Nobody wanted, he felt, what he wanted. Some tried to pull him into their mundane world hidden among Blinds. He tried to play along for another year or two, but ultimately found that his desire to right the wrongs of the past far outweighed his desire to live in peace. He craved action once more, and despite having found a place that The Emperor accepted to settle into again, Kenshiro craved the taste of his own mountain. Their true home. But he felt he couldn't go; that if he had nothing to restore, nothing to show those dead bones and rotten posts that he was back to reclaim their souls, then there was no reason to go.
His pride in his survival, and his anticipation of a future of his own design: These two emotions gave him the will to cast like he'd never done before, and before long he would begin to use his abilities in order to hunt across the Allverse for the trail of the Fiends who killed his family. Occasionally, Emperor Toad accompanies Ken as a sealed apparition, acting as an amplifier within Ken's Channeler in order to increase the effectiveness of his magic. Ken begs him to do so just about every time he heads across the threshold of realities, but his reckless nature and trigger happy attitude make the Emperor more than a little nervous; thus such a thing is withheld for only the most dangerous and dire situations.

With his latest excursion spanning back before Father Wolf began its rampage across the Sycamore Tree Coven's members, Ken is returning to a situation that he's completely unaware of. Though, he will have text messages and voice messages on the phone he left behind, so his arrival will not be uncalled for. Just unheeded for some time.

_{Abstraction
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"The endless scrolls were nothing compared to Pacting."

TYPE ⫻ Adept

ABSTRACTION ⫻ Purple and Gold Lux, with a metal fronted headband as the Channeler.

ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻ One would be forgiven for thinking that Ken's abilities come straight out of the panel of a comic or manga; but the truth is that art will always resemble life. Some of the most creative people have their third eye opened, and simply reap the rewards by telling stories of worlds that don't exist to the bulk of mankind. For Ken, the world of "Ninjutsu" is just the native expression of magic passed down through time honored tradition over a period of close to a thousand years of Japanese history. Unlike those mundane Adepts, Ken was brought up Kindled from a very early age, and has since amassed knowledge and mastery over a great number of spells involving his personal affinity, perhaps more than an Adept of his age normally would. Only, Ken hasn't developed a single spell of his own: He's learned every single one from one source or another involved in his upbringing and teaching.

Ken's Spellbook can be boiled down into three disciplines.

The Hundred Scrolls of Master Kai ⫻ All Palette Clan Adepts receive basic educations through the teaching and methodology of the Ten Path Sage, "Miracle" Kai. His famed Hundred Scrolls are a collection of spells he thought that all his disciples across the various Lux Disciplines should learn from, mastering what their abilities permit them to in order to best perform in their particular field. As a Dual-Lux Adept, Ken had the capability to access twenty out of the hundred scrolls, all of which he had at one point mastered; but as some go without material component or consistent practice, they've faded into his memory to be replaced by more complex magics.

• Enlighten: A simple verbo-somatic Purple spell which removes the weight of worn equipment until recast. Can be channeled to increase the effect, turning the Adept or an effected object weightless as well.
• Haste: A somati-material Purple spell allowing the user to increase their perceptive capabilities by warping time for a very small part of the brain. This grants the user vital moments to make micro adjustments to the body and split second decisions with more consideration. Requires small bundle of copper wire for a single use of 3 seconds maximum over a 24 hour period.
• Hazy Doppelganger: Verbo-somatic Gold spell summons a number of minions that are able to mimic a single target object or individual within a meter (3ft) of the caster. Requires an exponential amount more energy per minion and per summon, limiting the overall volume of entities summoned at a given time. They are also entirely ethereal creatures, unable to do any harm and immediately banished once the effected target experiences a sudden change in momentum or if the spell is recast.
• Dummy Buddy: A Verbo-material Gold spell summons a single entity that is of equal weight and size to the caster. The minion is a non-combative entity, cannot defend itself, and is banished a short time after taking damage. Only one Dummy Buddy minion can be summoned at a time, as the only time Dummy Buddies become aggressive is in the presence of another Dummy Buddy. Requires a small vessel filled with wood shavings or clay.
• Send and Receive: A pure somatic Purple spell that swaps the user with an object within a 10m(30ft) radius that is of similar weight to the user. The transition is instant, and will only be successful if the targeted object isn't rooted or bolted down by some force other than its own weight.
• Kai's Caches: This is a somati-material Purple spell requiring a legitimate gold coin to use. A portal is opened to one of Master Kai's many secret caches, where weapons and tools are said to multiply within through magics lost to the Purple Clan. Channeling the spell with the usage of additional material will expel a large number of bladed and heavy weapons such as knives, swords, spears and axes. The main drawback is that gold is in short supply, accompanied by a lengthy somatic input that cause some Purple Clan scholars to consider this ability a Ritual Spell.
• Skin Jack: A Gold spell requiring a somati-material input. A minion is summoned that takes on the form of a large, wet cloth that can be stuck to a surface. The Skin Jack acts as a net trap that can be placed to walls, ceilings and floors in order to trap corridors and entryways. Using more of the material component can change the properties of the Skin Jack, making its surface texture smoother or rougher, as well as a version that can be worn over the user's body as a clothing mimic. Requires rawhide string made from predator throats, and only one can be summoned at a time. Summoning a second will banish the first, as will using any other Gold spell while the Skin Jack is deployed.
• Beacon Beetle: A somati-material Gold spell requiring the carcass or molting of any beetle species native to Shimmer. Summons a small beetle attuned to the user's energy, which the user can sense with directional accuracy up to 3km (1.8M) away.
• The Dojo: A Tri-Component Purple spell meant to trap a single touched target in a temporal arena where time is slowed to a comparative crawl. Originally used for assassination attempts, this spell finds use as a force equalizer that allows the user to focus on an individual target in a situation where they would otherwise be outnumbered. Requires a true hourglass to be smashed over the target as both material and somatic components, and covers a sphere of space roughly 30m(90ft) in diameter and traps the target for two minutes, or until they lose consciousness.
• Phantom Hands: A verbo-somatic Purple spell that effects a basic telekinetic "mage hand" effect. Allows objects up to half the user's weight to be picked up and affected by touch spells with a 5m(15ft) range. Channeling this spell applies an effect capable of lifting more weight at a longer distance (1.5x user weight, 15m(45ft) distance), but removes its ability to apply touch spells from a distance.
• Smoke Sprites: A somati-material Gold spell which summons minions made out of smoke. These sprites flit about in all directions horizontal and vertical, spreading themselves thin until they're too wispy to remain associate, at which point the minion is banished. It's a basic level spell that requires a ready-made source of smoke, causing some Gold scholars to debate if it's a Ritual spell or not, which it clearly isn't thanks to technology.
• Observant Ancestors: A somati-material Gold spell that summons a stationary minion in the shape of a small statue that is able to observe its surroundings through sight and sound, and can be given very basic commands in order to use it as an early warning system, subtle spy or even a cunning distraction. The material is generally a fresh meal, and can be substituted for substantial offerings of fruit or other raw foodstuffs.
• Secret Paths to Nowhere: In his time, Master Kai was said to have walked the soil of a thousand realms. Utilizing a Ritual process requiring a sword made of a certain type of metal being resonated at a particular frequency, the user can channel Purple Lux into the blade and form a particular character in the air. This character is cut into the fabric of reality, and corresponding to the thousand realms, one is able to step through the gap and follow Master Kai's secret path to the destination. This spell requires a great deal of energy, leaving the user vulnerable both before and after making a jump between worlds. In addition, Master Kai's pathways are a thousand years old; not all of them lead to places that are safe to be anymore.

The Gama Pact ⫻ His Father before him had been head of the Branch, whose specialty as one of the Noble Gold Boughs was guardianship of one of Japan's Legendary Apparitions, or Spirits as they call them. The Emperor Toad, like his contemporaries tended to beneath the other Boughs, once worked with Sage Kai in developing a pact which would see his patrons worship and protection in exchange for assistance and strength when it was most needed. The Gama Pact is a summoner's guide to the world of Amphibians, and details the Toad Empire in structure like a bestiary or warlock's grimoire. Specific rituals summon greater minions of the Toad Emperor from their marshland realm, while lesser servants are readily available through quick access spells.
While unable to recreate the Hundred Scrolls for personal use, Toad Emperor's consistent tutelage and guidance of Ken has allowed the Gama Pact to live on through its sole heir in its entirety.

• Salamander Jester: A somati-material spell that summons a troupe of acrobatic, fire breathing salamanders that reach close to the 2 foot mark. Occupying the First Ring of the Gama Pact, they are the most basic Toad Empire summon, requiring only a pile of ash to be summoned from as a spawn point. These salamanders, summoned 8 at a time, are generally obedient if not mischievous creatures prone to starting fires after accidentally (or purposefully) harming one another. Under a skilled leader, they are capable of causing havoc at the point of a needle: Their hyperactivity and particularly dangerous fire breathing can make them quite dangerous in certain environments where flammable materials are plentiful.
  The Salamander troop is banished once they've expended their allotted energy through use of their fire breathing, general mischief, or if they've been damaged by anything bigger than a house cat.
• Tree Frog Scout: A somati-material summoning spell calling upon the smallest and most numerous of the Toad Emperor's army. Tree Frog scouts, summoned from the bark of swamp-bound trees, range between a few centimeters wide to around a foot in total diameter depending on the amount of energy used and bark available. While the larger variants are summoned at up to ten a time, and can be found carrying small daggers and other weapons slicked with poison from their deadly excretions, the smaller variants can be called forth up to a hundred at a time, at which point they make up for their lack of weaponry by excreting different reactive chemicals and toxic agents that can form anything from smoke to nauseous gas and even explosive glycerides.
  Large Scouts can remain in a dormant state for up to a 24 hour period taking no energy from the user in that time, and are banished by either taking damage from anything bigger than a badger, running out of their allotted time/energy, or successfully attacking their target. Smaller variants can lay dormant for up to four hours, and can be set off early by any explosive device wide enough to cover the effected area. Otherwise, without immediate direction, the frogs will simply loiter until they expend their energy and collapse without effect.
• Pacman Tough: The first "Upscale" of the Gama Pact, this Ritual spell summons the Bosses of the First Ring. These Pacman Toughs, at between three and four feet wide, are stout district leaders who are summoned when enough of their lesser kin are offered up as a hearty meal. Up to six Toughs can be spawned at once, and each function independently of the other at the behest of their summoner. Once summoned, these toughs do what they're best at, and begin to rough up whatever they're directed toward. If they can't outright pop their target into their mouths and eat them whole, they will bite with steel jaws, punching and kicking with their piston-like limbs until the target eventually disappears among the rain of blood and viscera.
  Their skin, while moist, is thick and layered in fatty tissue making it a nightmare to grapple against them. With all six pummeling a target at once, their strength and tenacity can become overwhelming. Like their lesser counterparts, they will disappear when their allotted energy has burned up over a maximum of thirty minutes. Impact damage will not cause them to disappear, and they must either be crushed entirely, or something must pierce them from inside their gaping mouths.
• Bullfrog Mercenary: A somati-material summoning spell utilizing money as a material component, up to a hundred dollars can be spent to summon ten bullfrog soldiers of various sizes up to four feet tall. These soldiers are equipped with unique weaponry ranging from clubs to spears, and their powerful frames allow them to fight with surprising strength and speed. These humble mercenaries are, under a skilled commander, a well drilled force capable of applying their particular weapons where they're most needed and supporting one another's weak points.
  However, they aren't exactly loyal to the Emperor, and while the summoner's money may be good, there are morale issues that can see them prematurely flee the Summoner's field of influence, banishing themselves back to the realm from whence they came. Otherwise, they are lightly armored and possess basic level Emotional Fields as magical defenses. They can be banished by technical mortal wounds, or if by some miracle they can make it to the end of their energy supplies after up to an hour.
• Toadskin Trooper: A somati-material summoning spell involving a pre-written scroll signed with ink blessed by the Emperor Toad as a material. This sub-contract summons up to 6 five foot tall Rock Toad Troopers equipped in heavy armor. These troopers carry pot-guns; wide-bellied steel cannons that hold grape shot loads alongside powder charges. These Troopers will attempt to maneuver and position in coordination with the summoner and one another, lining up a perfect crossfire to catch the target in. Once voided, the pot cannons become clubs and shields at once, their girth turning mundane blades and firearms with their thickly walled sides while providing a heft necessary to clobber a man to death.
  While armored, it is still old school ceramic plates. Good for deflecting swords and catching bullets, the tiles tend to break and shatter on impact leaving the armor overall less effective as time passes and a fight rolls on. That said, they can take a brutal impact and get back up thanks to their loose skin and densely packed muscle fibers. As with the Pacman Toughs, impact damage without a crushing effect will not banish them; only a significant enough piercing wound applied to the torso or head, or some rending attack that would sever their bodies outright, will banish them. Otherwise, they have a twenty minute contract before returning to their posts elsewhere.
• Goliath Brute: The Second "Upscale" of the Gama Pact, this Ritual spell summons the most robust and single minded of the Emperor's army. The Goliath Brute is summoned one at a time through sacrifice of enough lesser minions of the Second Ring. Standing at just over thirteen feet tall, these massive amphibian berserkers stand on hunched backs and powerful legs and often carry some of the biggest weaponry the Emperor's Armory can supply. While not particularly intelligent or cunning, the Goliath Brute is an unwavering wall of muscle can lift boulders in its arms and crush them with its kicks. They're able to jump with incredible speed to unexpected heights, often letting their weight slam down upon their enemies rather than trouble themselves actually aiming to swing.
  While other summons are banished by some sort of damage threshold, unless this particular greater minion is killed by magical damage or by some act of God in the form of overwhelming physical damage, simple wounds won't be enough. However, the Goliath is a stupid brute that is difficult to wrangle even for experienced Gama Summoners; and as such can be easily manipulated by mind altering Lux energy.
• Cane Guard: A high energy requirement somati-verbal summoning spell summons three Cane Toad Guardians who stand at six foot tall each. These guardians fight to prove themselves to their Daimyo and their Emperor, and are heroes of the Toad Empire. Unlimited in their energy consumption, the guardians draw directly from the summoner's energy. They are completely dependent on the summoner's upkeep, and piggyback off the emotional field in order to adeptly defend themselves from magical attacks. All three guardians are skilled warriors equipped with the finest weapons in the Toad Emperor's Armory, including metal/ceramic armor and vibrating steel swords meant to convert kinetic energy into independent sawing power.
  While these skilled and patient combatants are able to hold their own against low level Adepts and Apparitions, they're difficult to hang onto for very long as a summoner, as they require a constant channel of one's own energy to continue their pressured onslaught against a target or targets.
• Salamander Priestess: A difficult to perform somati-material summoning spell requiring the dust of pearls to be sprinkled into water blessed by the Emperor Toad himself. The Salamander Priestess, unlike her lesser kin, is a composed giant salamander woman standing just over five feet tall. Calling upon the resonant energy of the Toad Empire's hidden realm, the priestess is able to mend wounds and reinvigorate bodies for a short five minute period of time before she begins to go on about how it'll be noticed if she's gone any longer. After that, she elects to leave the influence area of the summoner and is banished to her realm.
  Otherwise, any damage done to her or unfavorable conditions in weather such as too extreme of a temperature or too dry of an environment will cause her to expend energy at an accelerated rate. If it's intense enough, it just plain counts as damage and the Priestess' pampered form disappears back into the smoke its summoning caused initially.
• Cane Daimyo: The final summoning of the Gama Pact's Third Ring, this Ritual spell requires the presence of the Emperor Toad directly, as well as two Salamander Priestesses and a Cane Toad Guardian. While the two priestesses channel energy directly from the Emperor into his chosen champion, the summoner is swallowed in order to pass along Lux directly to them. Saturated by Lux, the Toad Emperor is able to remold the Can Guard into his own image. This Daimyo is directly linked to the Summoner like a mirror puppet, and the two entities share an equalizing of energy as one nears the point of adjoining.
  With the influence of the Emperor, a barrier is kept between the two entities that never lets them fully adjoin. While their combat ability is significantly increased as a duo, the overall energy constraint of this final summoning is exponentially higher than any other as the Daimyo uses its chameleon-like ability to copy and mimic spells with the summoner's Lux. In order to maintain the symbiosis, both Priestesses must remain alive and summoned, meaning that once their allotted energy is depleted, the Daimyo cannot remain in the Shimmer and is banished like any other dead minion.

Ten Ton Takedo's Teachings ⫻ Lastly, as the nephew of the Purple Clan's main branch household, Ken was permitted to study advanced combat techniques designed for Purple Lux Adepts by one of the venerated Tournament Kings. His great great granduncle, "Ten Ton" Takedo, developed a signature style of Aikido utilizing Purple Lux's propensity toward Telekinetic power. From there, Takedo further molded it for practical use on the field, incorporating Karate, Jit Kun Do and weapon training. Unlike general spellcasting, the specific usage of these powers requires a particular somatic stance to be drawn with the body, as well as unique breathing techniques being implemented.

• Ready Stance: The most basic stance in Takedo's school, Ready Stance allows the Adept to better circulate their Lux through the body by manipulating one's frame into a position where breathing is easiest. In this stance, both legs are spread apart in an A frame shape, while both arms are held up at chest level and winged outward. The fist and the hand meet one another in the center of the chest. All other stances of the school are derived from this neutral position, and for a competent Adept, it should be easy to manipulate oneself into a better position.
  Attempting to cast Purple spells from this stance decreases their overall draw on the body's energy stores and allows more than one to be channeled at the same time.
• Offensive Stance: Assuming a low ready position, this stance instinctively shifts the Adept's Lux flow toward the arms and the legs. This facilitates a more effective style of striking and grappling as verbal shouts and grunts are used to project telekinetic force in different ways. Most commonly, strikes are given additional power and a short range increase by casting matching telekinetic blasts simultaneous to the Adept's own blows. If range doesn't matter, telekinesis is used to manipulate the mass density of the limbs which increases the damage of direct strikes.
  For more range, a small wormhole style portal can be generated mid swing with the fist entering the hole and one spot and leaving in a completely different place.
• Defensive Stance: This is the core that the entire school was predicated and built upon when Ten Ton Takedo began his journey. A stance hand built for strike redirection and ultimate defense, the Adept assumes a low guard position that transitions smoothly with its counterpart the Offensive Stance. With the stance tightened, Lux distributes itself toward the epidermis with each deep and intentional breath the Adept takes, creating strong anchor points for telekinetic padding and temporary shielding to develop. Simply, blows against the Adept are turned away as strong bursts of Telekinetic energy dampen the incoming force.
  In addition, the entire body experiences a shift in mass density. A small layer of outward projected telekinesis prevents a second opposing layer from crushing the Adept, and the two form a high density barrier that causes the Adept's physical form to act as if it were an incredibly heavy and dense object.

LIMITS ⫻ For most of Ken's spells, there are very specific material requirements that ask him to be prepared for a situation he may never even get into. Carrying material components for close to twenty spells at all times is just impossible without some serious pocket artifact. Beyond that, some of the material costs are either time consuming and too tedeous to gather or quite literally too expensive, rare or risky for him to supply them often. Alongside that, his combat potential and ability to function hinge on him being able to cast these spells consistently over a long period of time, leaving him playing with his cards close to his chest while he waits for an opening to strike. On the flip side, a great deal of energy can be expended at once if the necessity arises, but this can leave Ken totally exhausted and ultimately defenseless for at least an eight hour period afterward.
As for the Toad Empire's minions and summons, Ken can only utilize one ring at any given time, meaning that if he's summoned Scouts, he cannot summon another minion besides Jesters and so on through the hierarchy.
Utilizing his advanced combat stances is a process entirely dependent on the Adept's ability to freely breath, meaning that if at any point in time he's without oxygen circulation for more than a few purposeful moments at a time, the stance will lose all effect. At that time, the effects must be reapplied.

WEAKNESSES ⫻ Curse of the Natural Order:
In his attempt to save his Guardian Spirit from certain doom, Kenshiro put his life and well-being on the line. Wretched otherworldly living fires consumed the Lux in the air around their hidden village like a gas leak, stoking incredible blazes of black and blue flames that danced across the corpses of the dead. In his escape, it was inevitable that he would make contact with these cursed flames, and so a curse was passed along to him in turn.

Whether the flames had twisted humors or they were made for something like this specifically, the curse placed upon him is both poignant and deadly. Specifically linked to the usage of Gold Lux, this curse piggybacks Ken's own energy, occasionally sapping it from his body. This wouldn't be so detrimental if the Lux simply went to waste, but the Curse is both a leech and a saboteur.

With the likelihood of effect rising in tandem with the amount of Lux sapped, this bleed-off is redirected through the curse's complex and arcane formula into a summoning all its own. The spell produced by the Curse ushers in a Fiend of varying degrees of complexity dependent on the amount of energy expended by it. This Fiend hails from a world so far inaccessible to Ken, whose masters are those he believes slaughtered his kin, and will actively focus their attention on him and any active summons he's arranged.

While the initial effect doesn't prevent its associated summoning from happening, this isn't necessarily a good thing: With some of his spells requiring multiple previous successful summons to work, the result of a single high level Gold spell being the Curse's trigger can result in a double-casting, both draining Ken of all his Gold Lux reserves and potentially harming him by overdrawing from his vital energies directly.

^{Other
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"Ken means strong; but some days I really don't feel it."

The True Themesong

Face Claim is Shuntarō Yanagi, whose movies I have never seen.
Ken is my anime love letter stamped and delivered to the Recollection Allverse.
The Emperor Toad is NOT being targeted by the Temple of Charming and Graceful Individuals.

Bloopin Boi for review.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Mood Music

Edict

---

Mentions: Leon Richoux Direct Dialogue: Linqian Han/@FernStone, Britney Williams/@Punished GN, Layla Hyacinthus/@Estylwen, Vashti Nour/@Atrophy
Location: Cracker Island Ferry Docks > Festival Grounds, Cracker Island

---

Edict was happy to crack the Stella open, stuffing the bottle cap into his pocket and clearing the beer in a matter of a few seconds. He was so thirsty, after all, as the ganja core of his cigar was giving him terrible cottonmouth... While he chugged, he listened to Linqian bash his choice of costume with as much of a smile as one could have with a bottle hanging from it.
"Woah, ayy!-" he threw his hands up like a true Italian caricature, "-Unless I went to some fashion designer ahead of time, or... I don't know, some magical tailor, whatever I was gonna get would be cheaper than rocking vintage Giorgio Armani and fuckin' Prada wingtips. This is my Dad's suit from his hayday, the belt alone was like six cartons in those days."

Pocketing the bottle as well, he was now on the lookout for a trashcan; but as Linqian mentioned the idea of having to cut in line at a ferry to be shoulder to shoulder with the masses of mouth breathers, he simply couldn't bear it. His arm dipped down, scooping up his black and gold leather guitar case by the handle and moving his body to gesticulate a different direction than the ferry. Toward his car, in fact.
"Well, you're not in any rush really, are you? I say fuck the Ferry, lets go catch my family's boat. It'll be more comfortable than whatever that shit is." he offered, waving his hand vaguely at the loading ramp for the ferry.

”This isn't some roundabout way of tossing me in the sea, is it?” Linqian joked, momentarily glancing at the guitar case before looking back at Edict with a slight smirk. ”Sure, I'm perfectly fucking happy with not being packed in with a bunch of horny teens and pissed adults- and Sloane. Fuck that, let's go.”

It was another forty-five or so minutes before Edict and Linqian were anywhere as close to Cracker Island as they were at the Ferry Dock. City traffic was bad enough, but now daytime revelers and weekend block parties were constant roadblocks. In the meanwhile, the two conversed casually about nothing in particular. He did end up explaining the roof was down because he was smoking, and offered some to Linqian after disclosing that there was, in fact, marijuana in it, as well as his own jacket in case she got cold. As he took it off and put it on the middle of the wide bench seat, Linqian could see the holster around his shoulders and the butt of his pistol hanging from it underneath his left armpit. His sleeves were rolled up, and his forearm tattoos were on full display along with his rigid, muscular forearms.

Eventually they ended up in the South End. The neighborhoods at the south part of the Bay were well insulated by a chain of thickets that formed a wooded privacy barrier for the rich gated communities. They were actually going to his Father's home, the place he'd lived in as a baby. He didn't bother sharing with Linqian, figuring that she wouldn't really want to hear it. Nor would she want to hear that he was upset, for yet another year, that his Father couldn't be assed to come up from Portland. Even while his own half siblings would be there. After all, someone had to live in that big house if his Dad wasn't.

Dad... Weird fucking word.

In the time it took them to drive, he was pressed to make a phone call which was clearly about him being flip-floppy with plans. From Linqian's seat, it seemed like he said one thing to them, and was now going back on it. Pulling it out of him, the sense was correct. He'd planned on taking the Ferry, but redirected the ultimate blame on Sloane, who he figured was going to be occupying the same Ferry. Making it seem like he cared much about Linqian's comfort.
"For your own comfort, we don't need to walk around like there's tension. Lets just have fun."

But the ensuing family experience and boat ride were anything but comfortable, and Edict ended up having to admit to himself that he'd have rather just dealt with the crowds at the Ferry.
First his older brother was busting his balls over making the rest of the family wait. He was a handsome man in his own right, and Linqian was able to see the similarities between the two men despite the elder brother having a bit more of a "dad bod". But, ultimately he was introduced as Eljay, short for Luigi Junior, and his wife Kaitlyn was quick to introduce herself as well with the immediately uncomfortable white person question.

"Oh my Lord you are so gorgeous Lin-shan. Where are you from?"
Eljay was quick to snap at his wife.
"St. Portwell you fucking duck, where do you think she's from?

Like Edict's Uncle, Eljay was aware that Edict was in fact a magical son of some voodoo priestess, and did his best to tiptoe around his brother after a time where he got a heavy dose of the stuff. Not that things were much less awkward after that. It seemed like Edict's "Family" was more than just close people like Linqian's experience. This was THE Family. Linqian would be able to recognize faces that she'd only seen on the news in courtroom footage, happily interspliced into a warm picture of family living with dozens of kids and teenagers and wives chatting away.
As much as he didn't want to play the introduction game, Edict couldn't really find a place for them to stand on the eighty something foot yacht. So, after at least a dozen introductions and his cutesy family name being spilled by his Grandmother, "Gemmi" figured it'd be best to get where people understood that he was just trying to get a ride... He brought Linqian up to the deck where his Uncle was actually driving the boat. There were four or five older men chatting back and forth; no costumes to speak of between them. When they heard Edict and Linqian coming up, one turned and caused the whole group to spin like the duo had found the vampire convent's hideout.

What ensued was a bit of a conflict between Edict and his fellow Captains. While Linqian didn't have all the details, Edict was considered a Captain of the Devola Family, and as such had certain inalienable rights that were respected by the other Made Men around him. This did not make him immune to the long lived tradition of Italian-American machismo bullshit, as much as he tried to hide in the relative haven of the Twin City metropolitan area. There was a comment about Oreo cookies, dunking in milk, something said by one of the other men near the Uncle. A pretty awful thing to say concerning both of the duo's mixed heritages.
The Uncle, who would later politely introduce himself to Linqian as Vito, nearly cuffed the other man in the face, shouting at him and grabbing him by the collar. Edict's first reaction was to join in the beating, but instead he quickly flicked his glasses onto his face and Linqian would've been able to feel the disturbance as Edict began to cast a spell across the room. Immediately, all the men were stiff as boards and silent. Rather than speak to them gently, Edict made very vocal demands that they be left alone, and to tell the others not to mess with Edict and his guest anymore.

It was very effective, and only the Uncle seemed permitted to stay. He had, after all, defended the two of them out of basic principle... But also because Vito Devola was Consigliere and Edict respected him enough to never actually use his abilities against him. Knowing what his nephew could do, Vito didn't even want to consider what the girl was capable of, and was just as happy to play it cool as he smelled the wafting scent of shit from the guilty man as he uncomfortably left the cabin. Edict gave Linqian a knowing nod as the deck cleared off and they were finally permitted to sit and relax in peace.

For a thirty minute boat ride, it was a lot more trouble than it was worth. Edict had Vito pull into one of the public launches to let them out early, a decision unquestioned by the Old Man who simply did what he was asked. On departure, there was a cold goodbye to the duo without even anchoring the boat. It was like a drive by deposit, and Edict had it no other way. Clearing his throat as they walked down the dock toward the festival grounds through a virtual back entrance, Edict rustled his guitar case while apologizing to Linqian for the entire situation.
It wasn't like Greyson to admit when he fucked up, but here Edict was doing just that. He was probably more annoyed about the how things turned out as she was. Regardless, they had made it to their destination. The island was big enough that they couldn't chain it all off, and people with their own boats were usually trusted to stop at the admission area near the main pier. The Devola Family never did. Not for the amount of money and resources they dumped into it every year. People like the Van Burens weren't remotely interested... But the Temple was, which was always interesting. Fuckers were always burning some effigy or rolling up some pagan ritual to fascinate the Blinds.

But as the duo walked on into the fairgrounds, the rain began to trickle down. Edict's eyes narrowed at the sudden perspiration, his head spinning to check the horizons and finding that the storm clouds were isolated low over this part of the island. It was instantly relaxing, as he hadn't put his roof back up on the car. But it was only a brief respite before the realization bashed his head like a bell. Sudden isolated rain? Wizards were afoot. While they were still in the relative isolation of the rear grounds, Edict stopped himself and took a deep breath.
"Hey, you feeling this? I don't think this rain's natural..."
He reached across his chest, unclipping the pistol from his holster alongside the two magazines. The bullets gave off a vague hum to those Third Eyes who perceived them; Orange Lux enhanced ammunition, with little crosses carved into the lead slugs. Supposedly they were charged for twice the powder that was actually in the cartridge, which in turn made the pistol heavier as he'd had it made to withstand the tremendous amount of pressure coming from the quad-plus ten millimeter ammunition.
"Take this. I know you probably don't want it, but take it. I'd rather if we get split up you have something you can use... I ran into a pretty serious character yesterday, so... Just be safe.

”Yeah, it ain’t,” Linqian held out a hand to feel the rain, raising her body temperature so it evaporated as soon as it touched her skin. She tucked her hair into her hood with a scowl. Fucking typical- Edict was handing her a gun. What the fuck. ”Where the fuck am I meant to put this? I can’t- you know what, fuck, okay.”
He clearly wasn’t going to take no for an answer so Linqian took the pistol, putting it in her bag which just had room. She was pretty sure the last time she’d used a ‘gun’ was during paintball for her brother’s birthday, and that really wasn’t the same thing. ”If I shoot myself you’re paying the medical bills.”

"Lets get to the bottom of it: I don't think I like anyone we know who can make rain..."
Not that they had to go very far. There were some pretty tall ladies nearby being accosted by a Crocodile, and as Edict made it closer to the Beekeeper, he realized his intuition was spot on.
"Britney? Brit!"

---

The Day Prior

The meeting was to be held at a neutral location. Obviously, the Elder Lamb was the most suitable option. A time had been set. Now, all there was to do was wait.

Only a few details had been dropped in the correspondence House of Cards left for the Devola family, mainly that the money in this particular job would be good for them. It was enough to entice a representative to meet with them. But House of Cards didn't want just anyone. They wanted Edict Devola specifically.

Phantasia Vorpal sat alone at the bar, idly stirring the olive in a James Bond martini. This particular drink made her smile, reminding her of a lonely, lonely little girl that wandered into her parlor the other night. She wore a simple black dress, wide brim hat covering her eyes.

She sat there waiting, but she wasn't unguarded. At least 5-6 men were dispersed in the crowd of happy patrons, dressed in their suits and idly sipping or smoking as they watched the doors and windows carefully. One couldn't say that the leader of the House of Cards wasn't well protected.

Why she came herself, though, remained to be seen…

As Edict made his way out to that oh so distant part of town, he had a nostalgic memory about riding in his Father’s car. Him, his Uncle, and a couple of his Father’s other close associates. There was a country club out in this part of town, and while the four men were mostly there to play Golf, Luigi Devola always made sure to bring Edict.

Those were warm memories; watching the men play golf, sitting on the cart, lugging around heavy bags of clubs, the grilled hot dog lunch at the end of the road. He never figured out what his Father’s actual play was, bringing him all those times. If it was just getting him used to working, or if there was some sort of scam they were playing with, he’d probably never know.

Well, I could know. But life needs some mysteries.

Now, as a kid, the Lamb Club was one of the places his Dad would go to without him. Occasionally after those days golfing, Luigi would have Edict trucked back to St. Portwell proper and go on about his business from the Lamb Club. Edict had only been once, and only outside while his Father made some collections.

But since then, the place had become far less desirable. In an attempt to make up for lost profit, the owners put up for a spot deeper in the city, naming it the Lamb Club while the old location became something more like an old man’s hangout. The Elder Lamb. A little on the nose for Edict, but it still made him chuckle to think of the two places as a “chain”.

The young Captain rarely rolled about with backup; but this was a random meeting out in the styx. He didn’t feel like being Father Wolf’s next victim without at least giving the fucker something to think about, so today the car was full. And so was the SUV behind them. All in all, they totaled eight individuals with concealed firearms.

Edict requisitioned his Father’s working Cadillac, and felt safe behind the armored door and window as they arrived at the Elder Lamb. He’d arrived under the pretense of a luncheon, which he’d called to reserve prior to the meeting itself. The eight men, parking their vehicles closer to the exits than they were probably allowed to, poured into the club in a short burst with their suit coats and their hats in their hands.

The man himself hung in the middle of the pack, the gentle weight of his ten millimeter brushing against his pelvis as the holster rocked back and forth on his belt. He was the only person in the group with any kind of supernatural inclination, and he let his powers loose upon the room without a second thought.

Ethereal pink tendrils slowly expanded across the room, hunting and prodding for active Emotional Fields. Targets became illuminated by the cursory resistance to such a naturally weak spell, with Edict feeling the severance of those doomed strands as the miniscule wisps of Pink Lux shattered across the surface of some seriously busy barricades.

As the ethereal threads moved across the room, Edict would notice that out of the House of Cards men she brought with her, none activated the threads save for her. It appeared she brought mundane protection with her today. Mundane protection with sharp eyes, as they watched slyly as their waited guests arrived.

He picked the woman out at the bar right away; her reaction being a particularly strong one that batted away his influence with an especially cruel swipe. He imagined her trailing back to him, and before he could get much further, he pulled the spell back. The group of men took their table, and after a moment of settling in, Edict was back up and headed toward the bar.

He wore a black lounge suit with gold accents, cufflinks and a patterned gold tie matched his newly repaired sunglasses that dangled from the coat’s breast pocket. Approaching the bar, his frame and stance as he walked marked him as a man of sheer confidence. He had been given a code to use, something innocuous to say to the bartender as a signal for his newest potential business partner to hear.
”Bartender? I hear that bottle services are table only on Tuesdays, is that correct?”

A smile appeared under that wide brim hat of hers, and she gave a gentle tap of her cigarette holder on an ashtray as she addressed the bartender.

“A drink for my friend. Top shelf, anything he likes.”

The hand holding the cigarette holder gestured to the seat beside her, as the lady’s bowed head turned to him.

“Please, be my guest.”

She took a puff of her cigarette, turning her half-hidden face to blow the smoke into the center of the room.

“I trust you haven't brought any trouble with you?” She said softly, “The spear has been on the move recently… But I imagine you know that better than I.”

There was a soft crack of a smile as her statement hovered in the air.

”If you mean individuals who, themselves, would cause some sort of ruckus? No. Just some close Devola associates, looking for some good food and alcohol.” he replied, his head tilting backward toward the table full of mafiosos.

With a slickness, he ordered a rum and coke and took the seat next to the enigmatic woman. He’d never met her, never seen her, didn’t know what her goals were; but there was no mistaking that she wasn’t normal. Hat aside, her Emotional Field was thick and robust, and didn’t turn him away so much as let him get lost in the distance between its outer edge and the inner flesh.

Taking a sip of the drink as it hit the bar, he mulled over what she meant by spear, not exactly sure himself. Giving it the few seconds to process gave him a bit of clarity, enough that he could take a wild guess and probably be right.

”As far as our badge friends are concerned, I’m not worried.-” Edict intoned as he took his cigarette case from his breast pocket and proceeded to light up with a fairly cheap lighter.
”But, is that the business we really want to be discussing?”

By ‘spear’, she was of course referring to the enigmatic PRA. As mysterious as they were, ‘loose lips sank ships’, and her spies had picked up scraps of intel from their more simple-minded members over the years. With the attack on the Sycamore recently, it was a wise move to be extra conscious of the badges.

Satisfied with Edict's response, the woman gave a knowing nod.

“Of course… the House of Cards has come across a bit of a snag, you see.” She said, tapping her cigarette holder against the ashtray once.

“We have need of your family's cunning and strength. But more importantly, we have need of your trust. The target… trusts you. You specifically.”

She let the words linger in the air for a moment, taking a sip of her martini.

“The job itself is simple enough for a man of your skillset.” Her voice dropped to a low note. “We need you to… procure someone for us. A kidnapping, if you will. You'll be compensated handsomely, of course.”

Edict’s interest was piqued, the idea of kidnapping someone who he knew being something he wasn’t unfamiliar with. Sometimes people just had to disappear. A grave smile crossed his lips, and he swigged back the rest of his drink.
”My fair Lady… I hesitate to question if you’re aware of what my particular status is among the rabble. I’d not consider myself well liked by my peers; so either you’re overestimating this individual’s closeness to me, or you’re certainly asking a heavy thing of a man to do. So, I’d beg your price…”

“Even a momentary hesitation while you greet them is enough, isn't it?” She said with a sly smile. “Instead of trust, perhaps them being acquainted with you is more accurate.”

She ashed her cigarette, setting the holder across on the tray while she chose her next words. Negotiations were an art, and she had learned it was always a good move to let the other party open with an initial bid.

“Price is such a… fickle thing, isn't it? I understand there are certain expenses involved, men to pay and cops to avoid. Bribe off if you play that way-” She took a breath, swirling her martini nonchalantly, “-So it's better to ask what a fair price is for a job such as this. Especially since your target is ‘special’, much like yourself.”

”You understand, things get complicated between individuals such as ourselves. My particular brand of coercion is best suited to dealing with those outside our world…”

Edict paused, thinking about what he'd been told about the House of Cards. Not a whole lot, frankly. Business associates, occasionally request protection and security for high stakes games, eclectic individuals. Not exactly social, but they managed to be earners for themselves with an internal security crew that Blinds generally don't mess with.

”Long story short, and unfortunately for you, I can't even begin to muster a price for you unless I know specifics on the target. Now, I consider this Family business, so understand that even if I refuse this outright, I will happily assist in facilitating a meetup with someone else who may in turn follow through. So, how about we spill the beans: Who are you looking for?”

The woman’s smile seemed more predatory for the briefest moment, relishing. This was the crux, where everything hinged, where she's see if Edict or the Devola family would be willing to involve themselves. If they'd risk it all for a special, special job.

She finished her martini, and gestured to the bartender. The glasses were removed, and a new rum and coke and martini were set on the bar. She swirled this one slowly, before her bowed face turned to Edict.

“How's your relation with Britney Williams?”

Edict couldn't hide the recoil the question caused. It could have been anyone else: Literally any other member of the Coven. It would've been easy to toss them under the rolling train of the Mafia.

So why did it have to be his Britney? They called him for this. There's no way this woman sitting in front of him didn't know their history. She was toying with him. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned in to make sure his lowered voice would reach the woman loud and clear.

”Are you busting my balls right now?” Edict asked, his voice not wavering as he went from calm and collected to teetering on the verge of violence.
”You've got some serious stones asking me to kidnap my girl for you. You better have a good fucking answer for what you want with her…”

Almost immediately, six heads whipped in their direction, hands pressed into inner coat pockets and waistbands where firearms were hidden.

A subtle gesture of her head, and the men relaxed. Slightly.

Her face turned towards Edict, black laced hands softly gestured in a visible recoil, palms up, as if she had just touched a hot coal. There was a slight lick of her lips. She relished moments like these.

“Now, now, no need to get all tense.”

She leaned forward, a hand cupping her cheek with sick intrigue. “This is why, Mr. Devola, you are the perfect fit for the job. No one knows her like you.”

A pause, before a sweet smile played across her glossed lips. “You can either take the job, or watch her get swept away. Your choice.”

It was none of his business, after all, what the House of Cards wanted with Britney. Phantasia sat there, adrenaline spiking in her veins as she tried to keep a perfectly calm facade. Her smile wavering between sweet and predatorial.

Edicts first instinct was to go for the gun at his waist, but good sense made him think twice about it. Whoever this woman was, whatever she wanted with Britney, it didn't matter to him anymore. All he knew was that he had the chance to save the only woman he'd ever had the choice to love.

He thought about her, about the last arguments they had, about how he'd been wrong for using her. The only regret he had was that he wasn't more honest and forthcoming with her. He always thought it was macho to protect the woman, that she should never have any place in his manly business.
Remnant thoughts of his upbringing.

But it was overwhelming love for Britney that welled inside him. The Pink Lotus unfurled, whose thick and serpentine roots all lifted in defense of their master. Edict's hand casually reached for his sunglasses to stop the pain as it crept up his brainstem. The pain of raw casting was nothing compared to being shot, at least not in small bursts.

”Look, Miss… Whatever the fuck your name is… Your beef with Britney ain't founded. She's a good girl, she's legit, and frankly I don't like you insinuating that you plan on kidnapping her.”

His fingertips pressed against the newly repaired frames, and he slid the sunglasses from his pocket for them to rest in his hand. Edict had developed his spells with the assistance of his Mother, and it emphasized wordless casting and somatic manipulation; typical gesticulations triggered internal imagery, quite literally the past casting spells far into the future.

Edict flicked one of the temples of the sunglasses, and in an instant he was no longer hovering. His magical roots dug into Phantasia's emotional field. At first they were subtle, potentially offering a false sense of security as he tunneled his influence straight toward her brain.

”Normally I don't get worked up, but… You invite me out here to this shitbum part of town with your fucking stupid hat, then you ask me to kidnap Britney Williams like I'm some spiteful, hateful ex boyfriend. And, what? Expect me to just go with it?”

The intensity of the probing was ever intensifying as Edict leaned in closer to her. Whatever happened next, he was simultaneously shoring up his own barrier in the hopes that if she retaliated, he'd be able to make it out of the deadlock.

”But now I'm going to have to make you forget all about it.-” Edict grunted, straining himself as he tried to brute force his way into Phantasia's mind. ”-And you're going to go home to whoever your fucking Boss is, and you're going to tell them that Britney Williams is off limits…”

A lick of the lips as Phantasia felt the pressure of a particular abstraction. This was exactly what she was looking for.

With a sly, slightly tight snicker from the pressure, her head lifted. Harrowing, coal black eyes stared hard at Edict, like the river Styx was begging for him to drown in despair in its depths.

She pressed hard, feeling a battle of wills as invisible pressures washed over her own will. Kicking it into a higher gear, she bared her teeth in a predatory smile as she pressed him with a haunting gaze. He'd feel it. The coldness. The sickness of despair, crawling at the edges of his will. Sharp, like the cold blade of a mafioso.

As she pressed, she observed how he moved. How he touched his glasses. How the pressures increased, looking for any weakness in her defense. It was, well, fascinating. Phantasia was already idly piecing together what she would say to Isabella when she returned to the Casino.

Fascinating…

Her men grew restless at the words of Edict, some half standing, some taking steps towards the bar. Phantasia simply smiled, and raised a hand, not breaking eye contact with Edict. The men stared, then seemed to hold their positions.

“If you really think you can change my mind, be my guest.” Phantasia said, an arrogance in her tone as her black eyes narrowed.

”C-c-curfl… Whudu wizh frrrr…”
Edict wasn't an offensive spell slinger. He was acutely aware of pushing his abilities to their limits and what he could do at the outer edges of his own spells. Currently, he was just as busy protecting himself as he was drilling a hole in the woman's E-Field, half a dozen Power Words sticking themselves to his brain in order to shut down key centers that would otherwise be left somewhat exposed to counter attack.

Hence the slurring. He had the belief that ”Numb and Dumb are targets for None.”
Or, in other words, you can shoot all you want. If there's nothing worth hitting, why waste the ammo? He was slowly, surely, slumping over in his chair as his motor skills dulled to the most basic functions. His movements were slowed to a crawl, only the emotional center of the brain left running on hot. Its where the casting really came from.

Feeling safe, he let the Lotus unfurl completely. A thousand points pressured Phantasia like countless diodes hooked to her mind directly. The stage was set for his latest Spell: A high-powered lance meant to break through Emotional Fields and directly damage the brain underneath.

Everything was so slow. He could only see Britney's face smiling at him… It was the day they went out of town to the Farm, to that dark part of the forest where he didn't have to be Greyson Devola. A place where he could relax and forget about everything and give the most basic parts of himself to her.

And right now, all he could do was protect that smile.

An echo projected itself through Phantasia's ears.
”Pink Lotus’ Subtle Drift: Let Me In.”
Like a mine cave-in, the E-Field protecting Phantasia's gray matter shifted before falling in on itself entirely. A thousand spikes drove into the softness, their illusory nature causing no direct pain. Having no access to his eyes or ears, Edict couldn't tell if it was working or not.

She was, indeed, hooked, sitting there motionless, helpless.

Edict didn't waste any time formulating a Command String of different power words, uncaring as to the intensity of his carvings or the depths that they were being carved at.
”Pink Lotus’ Guiding Principle: Power Word Cease. Assess. Cease. Bullshit. Flee. Return.”

And then, like nothing ever happened, Edict broke the connection he'd forced open. As his senses slowly came back to him, his arm moved to wipe the drool off of his chin and neck as fuzzy eyes focused on the Witch he had assailed.
He thought about the intended Commands and if they'd be carried out properly or if breaking the E-Field like he had would just render her comatose entirely. He'd never tested, but he knew what the string was meant to do.

Cease: Refrain from immediate violence. He'd found the sensation of an urge to fight back, and immediately squashed it before it was active.
Assess: Essentially an unlocking for him, allowing him to discover more subtle impulses and targeting them directly.
Cease: The second iteration directly targeted the dark bands where he saw Britney's name held. He assumed these were either targets or enemies in the woman's mind, and he did his best to scrub Britney from the consideration.
Bullshit: A classic, he targeted their current situation, isolating the memories forming currently in Phantasia's mind and preventing her from speaking about their meeting truthfully. If anyone asked, she'd lie about what happened. It didn't matter to him what the lie was, only that it wasn't the truth.
Flee: Not in a scared fashion. The type of fleeing one does when they want to avoid someone at the grocery store. Embarrassed and hurried avoidance, and he hoped she'd bring her men with her.
Return: It wasn't the last time he wanted to see this woman. Return was directed toward him in her mind, ensuring that after a period of time, she'd actively seek him out again.

Edict looked at her closely as he regained his full vision, and as he returned to a fully upright position he tucked his glasses back into his pocket.
”I hope that was everything you were asking for… If you continue your pursuit, next time you won't leave on your feet.” he punctuated by hocking up a loogie and spitting it at her feet.

‘Assess’ brought forth some interesting subtleties. Edict uncovered a bloodlust first and foremost for the head of Britney, and a desire to make her suffer. Hidden underneath that was raw pain. Grief. Phantasia was grieving over someone, and using her bloodlust as a goal, as a cover-up to hide from the emotional pain. There was a list of names, yes. The only other name that had equal or more bloodlust surrounding it was the name ‘Andrade Salamante.’

Phantasia, after the influence left her, felt feverish and cold. Like reactive pain from after waking up from the sting of an anesthetic needle, her breath came in hyperventilated gasps. Reacting to a pain she couldn't feel.

Her skin was hot to the touch, yet she had a cold sweat. Her head was already lowered, and her eyes returned to a normal pink, squeezed shut before she dared to open them again.

Everything felt… terrible. Strange. Like she had suffered a type of Chinese torture. The headache was evident of that. There was only one thing she knew as she woozily rose to her feet.

She wouldn't harm Britney.

“Please excuse me.” She said with as much grace as she could muster, feeling the desire to escape from the presence of the man before her. Instantly, hands were on her as her men supported and escorted Phantasia from the vicinity.

And just like that, they were gone. Edict was left sitting at the bar with drool on his shirt and a burning question.
Who the fuck is Andrade Salamante to them?
The Temple Restaurateur? Edict had been to Le’ Sanc the night he got into town, but hadn’t considered speaking to the chef at all; Leon had simply told him to go there if he was ever back in town and he followed the recommendation.

He’d have to warn the Big Guy too then… Maybe. Maybe he’d just watch it play out? Hell, maybe when she came back, she’d want help with Andrade? He’d happily oblige that. Smugly, Edict smiled to himself as he finished his drink before cockily joining his fellows at their table to have a big lunch, all the while ruminating on the situation at hand.

---

As Greyson got a bit closer to the situation playing out in front of him, he recognized the scent of the Ozone heavy on the location. He didn't recognize her companions, but as the Crocodile turned in his and Linqian's direction he immediately knew that face.
"Woah! Woooooah, God Damn, I guess you really embraced life as Emily's pet lizard!? Clear the fuck off, Nashty Hoor, before someone calls animal control."
Jokes aside, this wasn't good. Vashti Nour was not only someone on his list, but a very dangerous someone with a lot of power and unpredictability. She was liable to do anything, so Edict was already looking for places to duck in cover when the heavy claws came out. His finger slipped to the latch trigger for his case, the feeling of his best pal bristling within just waiting to get out.