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Thread: On the couch, sipping coffe.

  1. #1
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    Default On the couch, sipping coffe.

    I'm going to open an around the campfire thread so you can keep talking if you want with whomever, without slowing the campaign down.
    There. That's done...
    Characters:
    - Executor Divine Katharina Durmond - Rise of the Runelords
    - Freya 'Forcefox' DeVos - Power Corrupts
    - Tycho Boughbreaker - Fall of Melior

    Campaigns:
    - Against the Shadow - Pathfinder Midnight campaign
    - Chronicles of Misthaven - Pathfinder Homebrew campaign

  2. #2
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    Default In Search of a Teacher (Pre-Cabal)

    Niels is lying down on the couch in the apartment he shares with his mostly absentee roommate, Min Li, and his sister, Sarah. He rests his head back against the Spirit of Detroit throw pillow and closes his grandmother's tome. It weighs as heavily on his chest as its theory of Prime weighs in his mind.

    Prime. The axis mundi of the f--ing World Tree itself.
    Can you imagine the Paradox that comes from unraveling the world? He can barely wrap his head around the fact that mages willingly work with these threads. That his grandmother, when last conscious, wanted him to better his work in Prime.

    Niels shuts his eyes and pulls the leather tome onto his face, further blocking out the light. Smells just like her--eesh. He rolls onto his side, letting the book fall onto the pillow, but it hits the Spirit of Detroit and slides right off.

    No one is here. He could let it fall to the floor and no one would be the wiser. But his grandma would berate the s-- out of him for the disrespect. Stupid--Niels rolls further out to the edge of the couch, reaching for the damn thing. And falls with it.

    He grunts as he hits the floor. Again, as the tome whacks him in the nose and glasses. He sits up, rubbing the imprint of the frames off his face with one hand, and taking the tome by the spine in the other. "Thanks a lot, ya fat d--."

    But he slides it back carefully into the bookshelf in his bedroom where he keeps the loaners from grandma organized by topic. The Prime shelf is packed. It's his weakest subject and his grandmother is more ruthless than most of the Vbean. Guess I'm lucky she's not in teaching condition. Except...I'm not...and neither is she.

    He is, however, living in the Cyber Age. There are teachers out there. I just need to get off my lazy f--ing a-- and find one.

    He sits down at his desktop, the irony not lost on him, and spends as long as it takes to follow the drops of mage codewords back to someone knowledgeable in Prime.

  3. #3
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    Default

    It takes Niels a considerable amount of research and trial and error but at last he is able to get the phone number of a Celestial Chorister called Justin StClair. He gets it via a directory kept by Virtual Adepts of all places. But it says that mister StClair is a teacher, the mundane kind, and the Choristers specialize in Prime so he should be perfect...
    Characters:
    - Executor Divine Katharina Durmond - Rise of the Runelords
    - Freya 'Forcefox' DeVos - Power Corrupts
    - Tycho Boughbreaker - Fall of Melior

    Campaigns:
    - Against the Shadow - Pathfinder Midnight campaign
    - Chronicles of Misthaven - Pathfinder Homebrew campaign

  4. #4
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    Default In Search of a Teacher (Pre-Cabal)

    Oh god, a Celestial Chorister. Niels rubs his screen-dried eyes. There's a pounding in his frontal lobe that has everything to do with the days he's spent attached to the desktop, keeping himself afloat on coffee and Swedish Fish. But despite the 12-hour days, broken up only by sleep and part-time, StClair is the only master of Prime he's been able to find. That'll teach you to call your Virtual Adept sister the next time you go diving through the deep web.

    Niels blinks, the noise like rubbing sandpaper, at the note in the Virtual Adepts's directory. Huh. StClair is a teacher. Of mundanes. It's a far cry from the holier-than-thou Chorister in his imagination. And Choristers do specialize in Prime...

    He downs the last of the coffee in the Year of the Rooster mug he's been refilling rather than washing and pulls out his mage phone, a 'gift' from the Council that he suspects is rigged with a tracking device, not unlike a house arrest 'anklet.' His thumbs are shaking as they type out the numbers, and not just from the combination of coffee, sleep deprivation, and intermittent work in the service industry. StClair's a teacher. A real teacher--he gets the 'leave a message' message.

    Niels clears his throat and puts on the business smile even though he's talking into a g--d-- phone. "Mr. StClair, sir, hi. This is Niels Bohr Chan. I got your number from the VA. Those VAs. I hear you're a Prime cut of teacher--" Niels cringes at the attempt at codewording this message--oh God, my ears--"Uh, as you can probably hear, I could use some help. Teaching help," more cringing, "Thanks for listening. Please call or text me back. Sir."

    One hand ends the call. The other takes a palm to his face. He's never gonna call back after that. But...he is a teacher. He must've heard worse from his students. Niels sets down the phone and flops onto the bed to rest his eyes, refusing to entertain the idea that even grade schoolers can ask for help better than he can.
    Last edited by Isada; 01-25-2017 at 01:35 AM.

  5. #5

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    Elena, in the meantime, is at her apartment, in her room. The walls were soundproofed a long time ago, and likely for good reason. Incense burning, candles low-lit, she's sitting cross-legged in the middle of her floor in her underwear. Breathe in, breathe out...she slowly stands, focusing on stretching. Straining her body's muscles, she leans all the way over, one leg in the air straight up with the other straight down and supporting her. The next position is a split, stretched out along the ground...then her legs draw together, and she rests on her back, before pushing back onto her shoulders and pointing her toes straight up. She bends her knees, miming running from this position, or rather...swimming. She's just stretching as it feels natural, huffing a bit. She loses track of how long she's doing this, a sheen of sweat on her form as she goes from a complicated position involving her legs behind her head to standing up. Her legs feel like jelly, and her focus is drifting, let free...

    ...but before she can collapse, strong arms catch her, supporting her. Looking up, she catches the silver eyes of her mentor, an impressive woman of 6'3". "Easy there, girl. I'm telling you to be careful when mixing your Kamamarga." Turning her about, the taller woman gets a look. "So I see...this is when I help you delve into the realm of Mind." The room is the same, give or take some years - and pressing a kiss to Elena's temple, the paler-blonde woman parts for now. Like Elena, she's in her skivvies, probably a habit that rubbed-off. "You know how to feel...read auras, sense emotions. This is only the precipice, though, and you are tipping forward down the waterfall. Mind is considered the most dangerous form of magic by some because of how you may manipulate with it, discover secrets...establish connections others cannot. It is also quite useful, and in my time, I see mages of the Mind as the primary communications between cabals. I also see the techno-hipsters surfacing, steadily-replacing one of the most valuable jobs a Mind mage has." Curiously-enough, while Elena is always looking back, Heather looks at all things in the present. As if she is living moments all across the streams of time at once. She very well could be.

    Brushing her hand along the younger girl's side, her Mentor takes a good look.
    "Along with our senses of the temporal streams, Mind helps us to communicate in this fashion. I see you becoming adept enough to do more footwork." But perhaps not today. She smiles, before mentioning, "...though your current training will be impulses." Without warning, the colors in her vision change, going from the browns and golds of spiritual connection to a purple color, as without warning, she becomes short of breath. Becoming hot, a little faint, looking at her mentor in a different light. The curves, the muscle-tone, those...wonderful, strong arms that support her when she falls. That have supported her so long. Oh, how she wishes to be in those ha"Easy there. It isn't quite that simple normally, either - we're connected like no other. Still...l have some practical exercises for you to perform..." Taking her up in an embrace, the two lock lips, their sordid encounter just beginning...

    ******************

    Rubbing her head, Elena wakes on her bed, candles burned down. She's rooted back in her own time and conscience, and...definitely should get a shower. In her head, she goes over some of the plants advised for her to study and use in expanding her conscience, or helping with pains if need be. Patting out a couple of the candles, she strides across the room, collecting her underthings from where they ended up as she goes to enjoy a hot shower, and deposits them in the bin on the way.
    "A good speech should be like a woman's skirt: Long enough to cover the subject but short enough to keep people interested." -Winston Churchill

    The very Prettiest Orc avatar done by the talented Letty Wilson.








  6. #6

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    About an hour after he left the message, Niels' phone rings.
    "Hi, Justin here...St.Clair." A male voice says -adult but perhaps younger than you expected- and it's a pleasant voice, warm and friendly with a slight trace of a southern drawl, "You called me 'cause you were looking for a teacher? I'm not sure whether I can help you with what you want to learn, but why don't we meet up and I'll see what I can do for you? And if I can't help you, then erhaps I can get you in touch with someone who can. Would tomorrow evening suit you? Or is it a more urgent matter?"

  7. #7
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    Default In Search of a Teacher (Pre-Cabal)

    Niels jumps as the first few measures of the Imperial March blast from his phone, nearly dropping his freshly microwaved ramen. He sets the styrofoam cup on the kitchen counter, but his chipped plastic chopsticks go flying. I will deal with you pencil d--s later.

    He claps the phone to the side of his head, wincing at the impact. StClair is a...Southerner? Talk about unexpected. He'd heard there were Southerners in Detroit, but to hear one in the...electronically transferred flesh is something else. Uh, what's Southern? Grits? Hospit-- Hospitality. F--------k. You're gonna have to watch your tongue. You can do it. Just, be cool.

    Niels swallows audibly. "Justin, sir, Mr. St.Clair, hi. I'm, yes, looking for you, uh, a teacher," he's hoping his cringe isn't audible too, "Tomorrow evening sounds great. It's a date."
    F--. "Sorry, not a date. I just said that because it rhymed."
    Double f--. "Ahah. Ha. Tomorrow evening. Good. See ya there. Thanks, teach. Teacher. Sir."
    The facepalm is audible.
    Last edited by Isada; 01-25-2017 at 09:11 AM.

  8. #8

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    Niels swallows audibly. "Justin, sir, Mr. St.Clair, hi. I'm, yes, looking for you, uh, a teacher," he's hoping his cringe isn't audible too, "Tomorrow evening sounds great. It's a date."

    There's a chuckle on the other side of the line.
    "Eh date, eh?" Justin asks in an amused tone.


    F--. "Sorry, not a date. I just said that because it rhymed."

    "No problem." he answers with another chuckle, "I just hope you don't mind me picking a public place for our meeting? Always, the safest option for a first date, ya know...specially when it's a blind one. You know the Redhead on Ontario Street? It's a piano bar, can't miss it really. I'll be working tomorrow evening, but I ger off by Nine-ish...so nine-ish okay for you?"

    Double f--. "Ahah. Ha. Tomorrow evening. Good. See ya there. Thanks, teach. Teacher. Sir."
    The facepalm is audible.[/QUOTE]

  9. #9
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    Default In Search of a Teacher (Pre-Cabal)

    Niels blushes to hell and back. Damn these Southerners and their Southern charm.

    He adjusts his glasses several times more than necessary, leaning back against the kitchen counter for as much spiritual support as he could get. "Nine-ish, good. Public, good. Piano bar--I would actually take a blind date there. Not you. I mean, yes, meeting...you." Smooth. Ok, either one of us hangs up, or I bite off my f--ing tongue. "Uh, thanks. I'll see you then?"
    Last edited by Isada; 01-25-2017 at 12:54 PM.

  10. #10

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    "Looking forward to meeting ya," Justin replies cheerfully -and it sounds genuine...not just courtesy- then he adds in jest just before hanging up: "..oh and you need not bother to pin a flower to your lapel or anything...well, you can if ya want to of course, but I reckon I should manage to pick you out of the crowd anyways. See ya then!"

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