Austronaut

Ologies: A Study of Arcane Specialists {Paranormal Investigations and more}

Lenya won't kill or backstab you. She just doesn't want to get killed due to Coals recklessnes. First impressions count when your life is on the line.

Ologies: A Study of Arcane Specialists {Paranormal Investigations and more}

Lenya concealed her horror behind the practised calm of a ritual practitioner. It didn’t do to show shock or fear in the midst of a ritual which might take hours to complete. Coal blundered into the house without as much as a hesitation. She held her breath for a moment and was vaguely disappointed when no explosion, spell or demon tore from the building to shred the young witch.

She ran a number of ‘kids these days’ style comments through her mind. There were few schools or institutions of any kind when it came to magical learning. It seemed depressingly common for youths to be reckless and full of their own power, convinced that their magic made them invulnerable. There might easily have been something as mundane as a hand grenade or other explosive trap on the other side of that door. Mundane enough to get one or more of them killed. Perhaps it would be best to view Coal as a sort of forlorn hope, like in Napoleonic times.

Reluctantly she followed the others into the house. Briefly she touched Azai’s shoulder.

“Let’s hear it,” she concurred with Max, keeping her eyes on the house.

“If our reckless friend there hasn’t already ruined whatever you had in mind,” she added dryly, pulling her coat tight around her slim body.

“If there are any watchers or alarms, they are certainly triggered.”

Let sleeping dogs lie.

Biannca is just being practical. Once we snatch this woman every knight in the realm is going to come after us to fulfil their damsel in distress fantasy. Its a get away car essentially.

Priest & Hawthorne Investigations (Redux!) - Supernatural Urban Fantasy!

Given the combined post, am I next in posting order?

Ologies: A Study of Arcane Specialists {Paranormal Investigations and more}

Once, as a child, Lenya had fallen through the thin ice of a lake in winter time. It had been fortunate that her sisters were with her and able to get her out and warm before permanent damage was done. The same icy finger clawed at her now. She pulled her coat tightly around herself following Max as he worked to clear the snow.

The whole area seemed to hum with a faint magical energy. There had been a working here certainly. Irritably, she brushed at the snowflakes sticking to her long eyelashes. It wasn’t wise to use magic if they were sneaking up on a mage. Her eyes fell on Coal who seemed hardly dressed for the weather and thrummed with magic of his own. It was possible he had already ruined any attempt at stealth. Seph should really have assigned him to team cannon fodder.

Reluctantly she closed her eyes and began to chant softly to herself. It was a subtle effort, hardly noticeable as magic at all. A faint alteration in wind patterns left them in a gulf, the gusts shifting slightly away as she tweaked the probabilities. Next she seized on the ambient magical energy and the disruption caused by Coal and her own workings, bringing the vibrations into synchrony so they cancelled each other out. Abruptly the magical charge she felt in the air dropped, hopefully masking their approach.

Max was nearly to the door now. She wondered if she should take out her gun or something. Instead she followed along behind max with her own shovel, carefully digging out the snow that fell behind him as the drifts slumped so he could focus on going forwards.

“Careful,” she breathed, “Whatever happened here wasn’t pleasant.”

Ologies: A Study of Arcane Specialists {Paranormal Investigations and more}

Or you can limit your own magic...

Ologies: A Study of Arcane Specialists {Paranormal Investigations and more}

Yeah, old age, bullets, car accidents, strokes. Cold, come to think of it.

Priest & Hawthorne Investigations (Redux!) - Supernatural Urban Fantasy!

Working with Morgan took a bit of getting used to. Emmaline had seen her do things in the pasts. Astounding things, amazing things and stupid things. This particular act hit the middle of that ven diagram perfectly. At least she didn’t seem to be permanently hurt and she had information that might just be enough to save their lives. Blood magic was Beth’s specialty. Swallowing hard she forced her own fear trying to believe she was in command of the situation. Analyse, decide, act.

The monster lumbered towards them with the peculiar speed that only massive things seemed to project. It roared inarticulately, seemingly offended that Morgan wasn’t as dead as she should be. Its footfalls were like thunderclaps in the distance, pieces of glass from shattered streetlights bounced an inch from the ground with each loping stride. Blue fire still spurted from the things every crevice but it gave no sign of caring.

“Miss Buchanan,” she began calmly, “I believe the stone is more in your area of expertise.” Amazingly, her voice hadn’t cracked. Her intestines seemed to swirl inside of her, in open revolt against her calm exterior.

“I think we can posit that the thing was born somewhere near the garden centre,” she managed dryly. The wisecrack seemed to buoy up her resolve a little. Reaching into a pocket she produced an elaborate fountain pen. At least it looked like a fountain pen.

Closing her eyes she pointed the athamae at the onrushing monster. In her mind an intricate web of golden thread flared like the web of demented spiders. Magical links which made up the world. Gradients of probability and potential, always in motion. Guardian spirits had boundaries, potential exchanged for power inside its domain. There, just beyond the end of the car park. It might as well have been a million miles away for all the good it would do them. Her mind spun as she built her spell, changing the probability and warping the pattern. There was no way she could redraw the boundaries, even with a coven and the right ritual objects that was no easy task, but she could warp it, just for a moment. With an effort of will she hurled the spell forward.

For the merest of moments the boundary existed both at the edge of the blacktop and directly in front of the monster. Several hundred kilograms of hurtling creature struck a surface as immovable and unyielding as a granite boulder. Magic didn’t let you ignore physics. The monster could not move past the barrier, but all that mass times acceleration had to go somewhere. The sound was deafening, like being in a car accident or a bomb going off. Emmaline flew backward into the side of the car, her breath exploding from her body as the arcane back blast flung her over Morgan’s supine form. Glass shattered and car alarms began to howl. She tasted blood. Groaning, she pulled herself to her feet, brushing vainly at her shirt front as she did so.
The creature itself had been knocked flat by the sudden and invisible impact. It dragged itself to its feet leaving behind an incongruous collection of twigs and soil. With a baleful roar it started forward again but at least its momentum had been checked. They needed a distraction, they needed that stone and perhaps most importantly they needed to get Morgan out of here.

“I think we should probably get to work, I’ll try to cover you.”

Ologies: A Study of Arcane Specialists {Paranormal Investigations and more}

The meeting broke up with a welcome efficiency. Lenya came to her feet and tucked her briefcase under her arm. Growing up in alpine climates she had plenty of cold weather clothing but all of that was a boat ride away. She supposed it would be possible to weave a spell that would protect her from the cold but how much simpler just to wear a coat? It was her experience that those with magical talent fell back on it too readily, rather than using the simple mundane solutions.

Accordingly she selected a fleece lined black jacket, a pair of slightly too large snow pants and some leather boots which looked to be sufficiently waterproof. Carefully tucking her hair back into the jacket she pulled up the hood and zipped it up. Opening her briefcase she took a pair of black leather gloves and pulled them over her hands. They weren’t as warm as wool but they would allow her to manipulate objects more easily and more safely. Thus equipped against the weather she headed over to where Max and Glory stood.

“Where is Mr Coa… never mind I don’t suppose it matters.” She looked around for the young man in the crowd as they pulled on clothes and gathered equipment. The assignments made a certain amount of sense to her. If there was a threat, it was likely to be at the center of the storm. That made a strong case for what Lenya thought of as ‘the muscle’ to be sent. On the other hand…

“It might just be that we will find this mage’s workshop,” she began quietly to her two companions. She assumed that is why the more academic team, or ‘the brains’ as she thought of them, was being sent to that location.

“But it is also possible that this mage, whoever they are, is directing this storm from there. That is how I would do it were I attempting a fimblewinter. I think we should be cautious.” Her eyes drifted up to Max’s hat. Fortunately she had years of mental discipline with which to hold back the laughter at the foxy headgear. She cleared her throat pre-emptively.

“I’ll grab another shovel, then are we ready to go?”

Ologies: A Study of Arcane Specialists {Paranormal Investigations and more}

Lenya adopted a look of mock horror at the vampire’s words.

“I would have thought a man of your years would deplore the excesses of the modern age. Maple syrup in beer is surely unholy. Alas that we live in such a fallen world,” her voice was serious but the amusement twinkled in her eyes.

Since the firm had bought her on she hadn’t had many opportunities to interact with Atlas. He seemed standoffish at the best of times and that did little to inspire her confidence. There was a very real chance that she would be in danger in the near future and brooding loners were not the people she would choose to watch her back. Still Atlas seemed steadier than some and his age connoted experience.

Turning back to Max she found him busily examining his cuff links.

“I would be happy to stop by to try some beer, a taste of home,” she responded with enthusiasm. The other members of the little group seemed to be arriving now, taking their own seats around the office.

“You bought that old farmhouse didn’t you?” she asked, her mind slipping back to previous conversations. She couldn’t remember how far out of town he lived and she didn’t own a car.

Unconsciously her eyes drifted to the window. A rind of ice had already formed on the dusty glass. It was a cold snap and an early one. Bert assured her that he would be able to keep sailing throughout the winter but the 20 minute voyage home on a largely open boat looked distinctly unappealing. Perhaps she could work some kind of ritual to smooth the way for the rickety old fishing boat.

“How are your renovations going?”