An alias? she ponders, realizing this should be obvious. The only excuse is Viktorie Dvořák may still be needed for this first step into the shadows. She rapidly flips through her mental catalogue of snake species in the region. There are three deserts poking in from the Pueblo Corporate Council and Aztlan. Why did these come to mind? Js skipping along dunes? Ah! Crotalus cerastes. A petite rattlesnake with an unusual ability.

“Sidewinder,” she answers, feeling particularly clever. “Abbreviate if you wish.”

Pay 1 extra Essence

The Mentor’s form elicits a half-smile. This is also the variety of spirit she has summoned more frequently than any other, to an astronomical extent. Seducers come the most naturally, courtesy of SNAKE, but what scholar wouldn’t capitalize on Mentors to the fullest extent? She may think of herself as a mage, but there is no denying the profound advantage these offer over elementals in academia.

To merely mark and tarry for this moment, my good spirit, she answers, attempting to mirror his archaic manner of speech. Every memory that might be useful during a service flickers through her mind, offering the spirit information.

“If the drone is lacking, I can loose from my body in the astral plane,” she lazily informs Pacer, ignorant of its fuel problem. “And see the ‘colors’ of the living.” She shrugs. “Only the living.

“Though patching its data to my PocSec would be appreciated in any event.” If she knew about its thermographic sensors then she would have begged for this from the beginning.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:58, Tue 06 Feb.

"Dammit," Pacer muttered to himself, trying to keep his voice down.  "Drone's running out of juice.  My guy said it was fully charged..."

Pull her in.

He turned to his partner.  "We may need to do this the old-fashioned way.  Cyber-eyes and shotgun mics."

As Pacer brought his drone back down, he mulled their options.

I vote for Option One.

"I think we'll do better working through the hotel than out here on the streets.  I've got experience dealing with the staff there.  I can blend in.  Only thing is, I need to change first, but my suit's in the car—it's not far.

"We need to split up, anyway.  They see us together in there, and it's game over before it's even started.  Here."

Pacer pulled a small earbud from his pocket and handed it to the doctor.

"Encrypted comms. As long as we're in range—inside the hotel should do—we'll be in touch.  What do you say?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:07, Wed 07 Feb.

Natrixs is offered a private chuckle at the drone’s impotence. Mundane means didn’t gather any intelligence other than a failure of mundane means to gather any intelligence. Sidewinder would prefer it the other way around, but She probably wouldn’t.

Pacer’s earbud barely receives a glance before she taps an elegant serpentine brooch. (Surprise, surprise.)

“Encryptable microtransceiver,” she states, transmitting a single-use encryption key to his PocSec after waking up the normally dormant device. No matter the situation, he is right: comms are useful, and encrypted comms are key. Still, his spare is redundant in her case.

“Now, Viktorie Dvořák is a Czech national at Universitas Carolina,” she says with pride in her voice, using Charles University’s Latin name out of habit. Though ‘UCP’ is less of a mouthful. “My Proteus citizenship is provisional.” Her tone changes, though it is difficult to pin down the emotion. Even she would have difficulty verbalizing it. “So I do not need to use my corporate SIN.

“We can surely concoct business I could have in the hotel.” A hand circles in the air. This would be her plan’s lynchpin. “You are accustomed to being a body man, no? Perhaps you could be mine.” She crosses her arms. “The best lie contains a kernel of truth,” she asserts didactically. And arrogantly, depending on the audience. “And astral security would truly confine me.” The hotel’s security does looks tight. Even astral perception could trigger scrutiny unless she can find chinks in its armor. Or if its Awakened security is sloppy.

“Which approach do you favor, good spirit?” she asks the Mentor newsman aloud, inviting it to Materialize if it wants to.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:44, Wed 07 Feb.

Pacer agreed with some of what Sidewinder said, and disagreed with some of it.

Being seen together could be a risk, depending on who was there at the site, and what the gameplan was.  If stealth and discretion were paramount to the gig, then one good strategy—maybe not the only one—was to stay apart, enter the scene separately, under different cover.

Then again, I'm paranoid, he reminded himself.  But maybe that's why I'm still alive, he countered.

"I have thoughts.  But either way, it sounds like we're decided—we're taking the clean route.  And bodyguard, I can be.  So I need to jog to my car and change.  It won't take a minute.  In the meantime we can test the range of the comms."

Pacer set off at brisk pace walking toward his car a few blocks away.

"The plan is I change in the car and then pick you up," he said, ticking up his pace without jogging.  "We can decide then on entrance—how and where.  I'm not sold on being seen together—yet.  There's an advantage you have when people don't know you're together.  The element of surprise.  But it's not always necessary—if you don't mind going hot early."

Pacer shrugged as he reached his car.  "Me, I tend to run a bit cold.  But I'm...open to ideas.  Hold on, I'm here.  You still with me?"

Pacer changes into his black business suit, pulls his submachine gun from his bag, and drives back to the meeting point to pick up Sidewinder.

Is there anything Pacer can do to charge or refuel the drone while they leave the car?  He won't be taking it into the hotel either way.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:55, Thu 08 Feb.

This message was deleted by the player at 01:59, Thu 08 Feb.

Are you both ready to head into the meet with Schimdt?

Impatient.  The mental sneer requires no elucidation.

You still with me?

“Five by five,” she responds with a delightful piece of radiotelephonic slang picked up from a few pilots.

“And no temperature,” she begins to clarify for Pacer. “A rehearsal.”

Another article and you will be freelance once again. Depart until assigned, my good spirit, she telepathically commands the Mentor.

She takes a moment to focus on SNAKE while awaiting Pacer’s return.

Commune

By the time Pacer has returned, the provided mana has been devoured and any debris has been been thoroughly removed from her clothing.

@Mr Johnson: Ready for the meet
This message was last edited by the player at 08:00, Fri 16 Feb.

On the short drive back to pick up Sidewinder, Pacer reconsidered their options.  Sidewinder's idea—that they enter together, Pacer posing as the Doctor's bodyguard—had drawbacks, but on the plus side it was simple and would allow Pacer to be armed.

"Alright, we'll do it your way," he said when he picked her up.  "I'm your hired gun.   I'll do what I can to keep you safe."  He looked at Sidewinder.  "And remember, when we get inside, you're the boss."

Pacer readied his submachine gun, stowing it in the small duffel bag he would carry inside with him, then plugged the drone into a backup battery—Piece of shit—and knotted his necktie.

"Let's do this."

@Mr. Johnson: Ready.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 00:44, Sat 17 Feb.

when we get inside, you’re the boss

Sidewinder takes a second to decide whether she should be offended at such an obvious statement, settling against it. Better to state the obvious than risk someone overlooking it. Her follow-up is somewhat less self-evident. And certainly more arrogant.

“No satchel,” she instructs while reaching under her coat to produce an Ares Predator and offers it to Pacer, a weapon which had somehow managed to be hidden beneath the form-flattering wardrobe. A silencer is also slipped in the previously concealed holster. “This is a prop. The hotel’s security appears adequate.

“So only what will not disrupt the lines of your suit,” she adds, producing a compact to examine the state of her cosmetics and hair to emphasize the point. The black eyeshadow is refreshed a smidgeon. “More will only attract attention.

“As for this-” she indicates the Predator, “-use your own judgement.” She doesn’t have the faintest clue when it comes to open carry in this situation. He’s the one with bodyguard experience. The difference is he no longer has a megacorp at his back.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:34, Sat 17 Feb.

“Yet there are 7 km to our rehearsal, no?” she says while pointing WSW. A map of San Bruno is transmitted to Pacer’s PocSec containing points, vectors, and timestamps with the respective logos of the Belle Air Kings, Ares Knights, and Nobunaga Samurai. Of course, these are only Watchers’ and her observations. And therefore incomplete.

“Ebb and flow of the past two hours.” She leaves it at that while ensuing her hair is precisely how she prefers it. Two hours can be a very long time, which is why this was the cutoff, but it could give him general idea of the present spheres of influence and choose his route accordingly. Or not. This is a basic skill that she’s never had to learn.

Notably, there is no overlap between the Kings and security. The former appear to know how to get along with the latter: by managing to simply avoid them.

Edit: @Mr Johnson: Still ready, just some extra flavor for Pacer to use or not in the interim
This message was last edited by the player at 20:41, Sat 17 Feb.

"Fine."

Pacer didn't like guns too much, anyway.  He preferred to talk his way rather than shoot his way of out of bad situations, if at all possible.  Or drive like hell away from them.

But if this plan of yours backfires and we get outgunned, don't expect too much sympathy from me, he thought.

Instead, he said, "First sign it looks like this," he accepted the Predator with a tug, "Isn't going to cut it...Get some magic ready to cover our retreat to the sedan so I can re-up."

He glanced at the doctor and tried not to glare.  "That cool with you?  What are we doing here, anyways?  What are we after?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:58, Sun 18 Feb.

“To every thing there is a season,” she opines softly while leaning back. “And a time to every purpose.” There are somehow drearily religious Hermetics out there, and she absorbed some of their obsolete texts as a result. As if the Awakening hadn’t thrown the concept itself under the bus. At least it armed her with some quips to toss out.

“That will not cover it,” she agrees with a nod toward the pistol with eternally lidded eyes. “Nothing will cover it,” she avers through a smile. They would be hopelessly out-gunned and out-magicked; why bother considering how to deal with the hopeless? The Mentor spirit somewhere in astral space would be just as effective as the potent Natrixs.

“Such tools will be useful later. After our meeting with Herr Schmidt.” Her head tilts toward Pacer. “A ‘Mr Johnson’ over here.

“As to our task . . . I am interested as to what our client has to say.” The non-answer is a not-so-subtle implication that she might already know something. Yet her amber eyes do not suggest any intent to share if she does. But mages do often like to play coy, though there are some subjects that render them particularly tight-lipped.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:37, Mon 19 Feb.

The mundane.

Herr Schmidt has been careful. He has chosen well for the meeting site.

Gang signs fade as you get closer to the hotel entrance, institutional muted grey paint over a faded yellow crown tag on the thick metal post that holds up the hotel's roadside sign. The last indication that the Kings rule these streets, or arguably the first, depending on which direction you consider home territory; the anarchy of the streets or the security of the hotel.

You used to know which was home. Now, plotting to rob a megacorp where you once found shelter, you're not so sure.

It may be a c-zone, but the hotel has a-zone security, catering to business travelers who come in on or go out on suborbs traveling at ungodly hours. Security is especially tight around the small casino that you find just off to the right of the lobby bar.

Smart play Herr Schmidt. Security means someone is always watching, and money moving in a casino means extra security. Your presence doesn't stir up any suspicion and in this part of the 'plex, a man with a concealed Predator isn't all that noteworthy.

The magical.

People pay big money to protect bigger money. Awakened security is rudimentary but not sloppy. A woman in a sort of crop top and harem pants ensemble that conjures images of Arabian Nights stalks the casino with a small tabby cat lazily meandering in tow. A flick of perception reveals much, the wand at the woman's hip crackles with power and the small tabby reveal a toothy grin from a wide face three times the size of the domestic cat it appears to be.

This little casino must do well enough if they can entice a shaman and her talis cat (peer+) to provide magical security. Either that, or the streets outside are dangerous enough that the hotel keeps her on staff to keep the place free from whatever the Kings' finger wigglers might toss their way.

Lady Cat keeps a Watcher about. She gives Sidewinder a look of studied disinterest.

Herr Schmidt waits at the bar, wearing a nondescript suit that serves as efficient urban camouflage. Slightly overweight and balding, he looks at something on his PocSec while sipping from a brown glass bottle marked with a bright red ship's anchor. Not surprising that the Bavarian mage would choose a beer.

You are thus far unnoticed, or at least your contact gives the appearance that you are unnoticed. One can never be too certain in these kinds of shadow-games.

Mechanics.

@Sidewinder: Commune. 21:14, Today: Mr. Johnson, on behalf of Sidewinder, rolled 6 using 1d6 ((6)).

Sidewinder: Essence 6 / Edge 4 / Hold +1 / Seducer Spirit +1 / Destroyer Spirit lose 1 spirit point
  Urban Teacher Spirit: Services 2
Pacer: Edge 4 / Prep 1
  Ares Predator: silent / Ammo 3
  Mitsuhama Microskimmer: recharging

“See the tabby?” she says just above a whisper, discreetly drawing Pacer’s attention toward the parafeline as Sidewinder slowly makes her way toward Herr Schmidt. “Felis mutabilis. Talis cat. Could rip out your throat before you even notice it grow.” This is an exaggeration, but not a large one if the texts are accurate.

Almost as fast as a serpent’s strike.

Parazoology was among the top of her prospective specialties before her exposure to the Unified Magical Theory. Ley lines weren’t even on the list.

“And with its shaman, we could cover nothing,” she continues, doubling down on the assertion that the pair is fairly impotent at the moment. Still, a mana-fed Natrixs would be a comfort. But She would set off alarm bells. Like a security blanket on fire.

„Servus, Herr,“ she greets Herr Schmidt upon arriving at the bar, pitching her voice as if speaking to a minor superior. She weighs how bold a tack to take, and elects to lean an arm against the bartop.

“May we join you?”

Pacer may have been given a mumbled explanation of the talis cat, but has not received so much as a glance. As if he is expected to execute his duties without instruction or intrusion. Still, she has been using reflective surfaces and pointed ears to try to observe him. The is only an act. He is a peer to his ‘ward,’ not a servant.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:16, Tue 20 Feb.

Pacer was being rushed, but he knew how to slow things down.  He wouldn't go in there unprepared.

Before they exited the sedan, Pacer did three things.  He checked the Predator for a smartlink—dammit, of course not—but at least its silenced.  Next, he stowed his directional mic in his suit pocket.  Finally, he tested their micro-transceivers one more time.

Knowing they weren't going in completely unprepared helped somewhat, but Pacer could feel his pulse beating faster, so he concentrated on breathing slowly.  Adrenaline was starting to hit.  I hate this part.

As they entered the hotel, by the sight of it—ultralux for these parts, with some mystical shit thrown in for fun—Pacer was starting to feel that Sidewinder was keeping him more in the dark than was healthy for a man's survival prospects.  There was nothing he could do about that now, but he was starting to get pissed.

Knock it off, he reminded himself.  Stay cool or die.

The sight of the woman and her cat caught him off-guard.

Alright.  Pacer kept his thoughts silent, fighting to keep his expression as blank as possible.  So now we have magic cats.

He avoided looking at the animal—and the human it was following—though he couldn't help but notice, the genie-lady looked kind of hot.

He regretted being in the dark, under-prepared, missing his wheels, firepower, and most of his new toys.

Still, he admitted, taking note of the A-level security and professional environs.  Sidewinder had the right idea.  Keeping the lowest profile possible here is mandatory.

To that end, Pacer reminded himself to stay as silent as possible.  To treat Schmidt like a total stranger—or better, a ghost.  If the situation permitted, Pacer resolved, he would pretend like he couldn't even see the man, sitting there drinking his...what kind of beer was that, anyway?

Pacer blinked through a flood of emotions.  Being forced to rely solely on the "proper" behavior—and speech, or lack thereof—was a skill Pacer had practiced on the job as a driver, personal assistant, and bodyguard for two decades now.

In short, he knew when to shut the fuck up.  And now was the time.

Pacer kept one eye on Schmidt.  Fingering the mic in his pocket, Pacer flicked it on, attempting to discern the distant sounds of the room through his datalink, starting with the cat-lady.

Check the Situation.  With his eyes, Pacer is looking for anything out of the ordinary with Schmidt or the nearest people.  With his ears, Pacer is pointing directional mic in his suit pocket toward the Genie/Cat Lady (to the extent possible).
This message was last edited by the player at 03:35, Wed 21 Feb.

@Mr Johnson: I have her rudimentary knowledge of talis cats as parafauna for expedience’s sake. Though there is certainly Awakened life she would need a Citation Needed for.

Edit: She would have also tried to sex the kitty. An academic reflex, with a foolproof methodology to discriminate between a tom and a queen. (Gibs too, but I doubt there was any neutering.)
This message was last edited by the player at 16:01, Fri 23 Feb.

The mundane.

At a glance, Lady Cat looks every part a pro. The harem girl chic says she is confident and the tame talis cat says she is capable, both signs that is would be bad to cross the svelte little minx.  There is no telling exactly what she is capable of unless you press the issue, and that doesn't seem like it would be good for biz.

„Ahhh, Hallo guten Tag,“ the portly mage says amicably. "Yes, please join me. I think there is a free booth in the corner," he says gesturing to an empty space tucked away from prying eyes.

@Pacer. Check the situation. 20:00, Today: Mr. Johnson, on behalf of Pacer, rolled 10 using 2d6+1 ((6,3)). strong success … Ask three questions or add a single useful detail

The magical.

There is no doubt, this fella is a proud and intact Tom. His astral form is bigger than a lynx but smaller than a leopard. About 30kg or 70lbs of magically active, rippling animal muscle. He follows the shaman with the aloofness only a feline can properly convey, but you are confident that this cat is firmly bonded to the shaman.

@Sidewinder. Just go ahead and try to spay or neuter a talis cat. See how that works out for you...

this one watches the spell weaver and it's pet Natrixs says with a hiss into Sidewinder's mind. from a distance... best not to come too close

this one stays away miss manaweaver... comes the other voice in your mind, the teacher spirit naturally a bit skittish around the other magician. you go to a place that this one does not wish to follow... but this one is dutifully waiting for your return

Schmidt leads the way to the booth and leaves space for each of you to find a seat. He is polite but businesslike in the way you would expect of the emissary for a magical society headed by a Great Dragon.

>>>>>from Shadowlands: Allianz Deutscher Länder

*translated in 0.0001 seconds by Polyglot^(tm) a proud Shiawase affiliated product*

As far as secret societies go, Benandanti XXV isn’t the type to hide behind shrouds and skulk around the fringes. Frag, they maintain a world-renowned magical library at one of Europe’s premiere universities.

They are mostly harmless, holding moonlight rituals and pushing magical theory into practice. Seekers of knowledge, not power.

Naturally Schwartzkopf’s methods vary from legitimate and perfectly legal to shady and nefarious. Such is the way of things in the Sixth World. It’s actually quite surprising that the Dragon plays by the rules at all, hells look at Hualpa…

The point is that no one with ambition keeps their hands, or claws, completely clean.
-posted by Jutlander <<<<<

As you will, good spirit, she telepathically communicates to the Mentor. These spirits manifest wisdom itself. Only a fool would disregard their judgement. Yet it did not offer an explanation. Is there something about Hr Schmidt that would scare it off?

Yet Natrixs receives a simple psychic imprint of respect and gratitude. There is nothing more to convey. The fact that such a proud and potent spirit would prefer to do nothing but observe with slit pupils on the cat speaks volumes. F mutabilis is categorized as a high-threat paranimal, but there’s always a difference between a library and field work.

And right now she is glad to have pursued magical theory. The notion of specializing in parazoology feels incredibly naïve at the moment.

“Soykafetière,” she curtly orders soykaf from the bartender with the tragic portmanteau with cafetière, what was once the preferred term in Britain for a coffee press. But there isn’t much bona fide café to be found nowadays, hence the neologism. And academia is hardly the place to find such expensive aliment.

Three fingers are held up as she languidly turns her eyes to Pacer and Hr Schmidt, silently requesting three cups made available. It doesn’t particularly matter whether the others would indulge, it is merely an act of courtesy as well as a haughtiness toward the staff. A performance of being important enough to warrant a bodyguard with magnanimity and expectation to be waited on hand and foot.

Ruder than normal? Yes. But she had told Pacer the truth when she called this a rehearsal.

However, her aloof demeanor sinks a little when settling down to the appointed booth. Her heart rate increases and she can feel a hint of a blush that she tries to hide behind the wisps of steam rising from the black soykaf. Such emotion is not befitting a Snake mage. Though its root is acceptable.

Sitting in Dragonspeech lectures by the Sixth World’s première expert on magic, and nothing less than a great dragon, were truly cherished experiences. Now she is being contracted by Schwartzkopf’s personal magical order? This has not been the preferred route to associate with Benandanti XXV, but that doesn’t stop the creeping fangirling. But she also nurtures a suspicion that this path is no coincidence.

Not to mention the payment, which only increases her excitement. And while the mundane Pacer may not have the same interests, there is an opportunity that will excite him as well. And it isn’t whatever his payment will be. Probably nuyen.

The thoughts buzzing through her head are left unspoken. She takes draughts from her mug, not intending to be the first to speak.

@Mr Johnson: So she brought the scalpel and lidocaine for nothing???

Edit: Oh, and she would have taken a peek at Hr Schmidt like she did with the shaman, cat, and Watcher. Seems like nothing would have stuck out other than ‘mage.’
This message was last edited by the player at 18:57, Thu 29 Feb.

Pacer sat silently next to his "employer," he thought with sarcasm—though she's starting to act like one—and did his best to execute the plan.

Ignore Schmidt at all costs.

He held his head still, but his eyes wandered behind his sunglasses.

Already he was expecting a curveball from the good doctor.  Who knew when it would come, but he knew it would.  In the meantime, it was best to keep as still and silent as possible, senses pricked.

Tell me one useful detail.

“You are relieved from duty,” she quietly assures Pacer after a simpering quaff of soykaf. “This business includes us both, nicht wahr?” The terminal rhetorical German question aimed at Hr Schmidt is designed to redirect Pacer’s attention to where she believes it belongs.

If he thinks this is a private enough area to discuss what will surely be illegal, then this is surely private enough to suspend the performance. Well, a partial performance. She is the more significant of the pair. Obviously.

Though she sees no reason to mention Natrixs’s overwatch. At least for now.

A useful detail: Schmidt is out of his depth. He is doing a fair job of keeping his cool, but he is not a shadowplayer. He's a formally educated magus, so book smart obviously and by extension, is clever enough to have figured out that using this spot for the meeting was a good call, but he is an amateur...

..of course, so are you.

Schmidt's timid demeanor sent Pacer's mind into overdrive.  Somehow the threat of the Bel Aire Kings could be useful if Schmidt misbehaved...

"Huh." Pacer cleared his throat in a kind of nonverbal half-cough half-laugh, trying to signal to his partner, This fucker is more afraid here than we are.  Squeeze him.

It wouldn't do for the driver to speak first.  He waited for the doctor.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:31, Wed 06 Mar.

”This is an Amulet of Ethereal Shores,” Schmidt begins, flashing a photo across the screen of his PocSec.

Tell it to them straight…

”As best we can tell, seven were made during the Fourth World.” he says, flipping through a series of pictures. ”They appear in different cultures throughout antiquity. Egyptian, Babylonian, Persian, Carthaginian, Greek, Byzantine and this one, Roman.” he continues, showing each picture in turn. Each amulet crafted from orichalcum, twelve-sided and marked with symbols of power appropriate to the time and place they were crafted.

”Proteus AG holds the Roman amulet.” he said, stopping on the photo of the golden polygon bearing the image of a woman with a hissing snake coiled around her arm. ”Salus, not immediately apparent as an appropriate image, but when one considers her role as a protective force and as a healer her presence on an amulet like this seems more fitting. The Romans of course believed that personal relationships with the departed were natural, so considering the contemporary beliefs surrounding worship of the deity, the presence of Salus on an amulet like this at the early dawn of the Fifth World is not at all surprising.” he said, with the tone of a tenured university professor, which of course he probably was.

”The amulets are shadows of the Fourth World. Under the right conditions they could tap into the old magic, even as the Fifth World snuffed out the light of mana for a time. The amulets are quite valued from a historical perspective and for the relative novelty of the old ways being reflected in the same manner through different cultures,” he continues with his ponderous lecture, eventually getting to the point. ”This one is different now though, a millennium is a long time. Since it was crafted, the magic has returned and this amulet has touched the San Andreas Ley Line. It has Awakened.” he added dramatically.

”The magic of the Fourth World was different, primal, pervasive in a way that is not possible with the technological innovations of the Sixth.” he continued. ”Herr Schwartzkopf is … interested … in how the old magic might react in the new world. His generosity and openness to a deal with Proteus AG has been rebuffed, or so I am told. So we find ourselves in need of a less direct approach to securing the amulet for the Order.”

The image is taken in and analyzed, but this doesn’t last long.

“Fourth World”

She does her best to avoid hurling out the soykaf in her mouth and fails. At least it all made it into the cup. And none of it out of her nose. The lack of professionalism is profoundly embarrassing, but how else is she supposed to react?

“Fourth World”

Her eyes remain fixed on the Hr Schmidt’s PocSec.

Salus, she ponders, something more productive to think on. Salus, Salus, Salus.

She had greeted Pacer with saludos. Odds are there is a straight line through the Romance language to Roman itself, though the meaning must have morphed somewhat along the way. Irrelevant. Probably. Which declension should that be, now? Irrelevant. Definitely.

A deity with a snake should immediately come to mind, but her thoughts drift toward the Greek Hygieia as the daughter of the far more famous Asclepius and his even more famous rod. Serpents associated with all of them.

The depictions of the goddesses are extraordinarily similar. But it would be perilous to equate the two religions. She’s not exactly a fan of interpretatio graeca. And the qualities ascribed to either goddess do not fit the SNAKE she knows, but every Roman deity big and small did require a specific sacrifice proportional to its designated power.

Of course, the Fifth World would lack the background mana required to interact with a spirit, but there could still be some type of lingering cultural memory.

Citation Needed: Does Salus mean anything to you? she asks Natrixs while racking her own memories.

Then she moves on, ensuring not a drop of soykaf remains on her person. The ley line is the key to its Awakening. Focus on the proximate.

Her suspicion moves up a notch. She has been studying ley lines off of Tír Tairngire—much to her chagrin—and now there is a job directly related to a ley line. All lying along fault lines, and therefore assuredly naturally-occurring ones.

The west of the Tír is more complicated with its Juan de Fuca Plate; the San Andreas Fault is simply the North American Plate strike-shifting against the Pacific Plate. Though there are other fault lines in the area, something she buffed up on to aid in a cover, but the San Andreas is certainly the big one.

Why is such mind-numbing material so necessary to learn at her level of education?

“Fourth World”

She is lucky her soykaf is not adequately potable, because to hear Schwartzkopf’s name out loud is another shock to the system. While this is not new to her, this conversation must be two-to-three steps away from the attention of great dragon himself.

But the chaos in her mind is unacceptable. So she takes a moment to compose herself, managing to achieve the neutral, controlled mien she typically wears. And forcing her mind into obedience. Hermetics have taught her approaches to centering the mind. SNAKE does not seem to allow her to draw mana from anywhere other than HER, but the techniques can still be useful in other ways.

“What does ‘Awakened’ signify in this case?” she asks. The finer details could prove invaluable in the theft. The fact that it’s what she’s most intrigued by is simply a silver lining. As thick as that line can get. “Its properties,” she clarifies. ”And any potential . . . interactions?” As in, ‘what might happen if a magician touches it?’ Or even, ‘what might happen if a Snake mage touches it?’

“Fourth World”

OOC: Yes, I also buffed up on plate tectonics. But her narrative sounds so much smarter now!

Edit: For anyone who is interested in how polytheism generally worked in the ancient/classical world, this series is a great primer: https://acoup.blog/category/co...ractical-polytheism/
This message was last edited by the player at 22:59, Sat 23 Mar.