Dead Cruiser

Scion: Children of Light

The Kha'Sherhan

Responding to Ishara's surprise, Itzara replied, "You were not chosen on a whim. Sekhandur foresaw your commencement, and we have made preparations to accommodate you for some time." Her voice was as soft and delicate as she seemed to be. Her family name, Nefertari, meant "beautiful companion" in the Aemeni tribal dialect, and couldn't have been a more apt description. Were her family part of a concubine's Fellowship? One could only wonder.

Seating himself, Sekhandur commented, "Anyone in this Cabal could have done the same." He said, deflecting the comment with humility that Ishara could not be sure was genuine. "Except maybe Mekhari." He added, golden eyes flashing with mischief.

"Ah!" Mekhari made an insulted noise, and pressed his hand to his chest in a mocking display of offense. A round of chuckles broke through the Cabal at the friendly jest, save for Itzara, who only smiled demurely.

Looking back to Ishara, Sekhandur attempted to assuage her concerns. "We don't expect anything from you that any of us wouldn't also give. The purpose of the Kha'Sherhan is to uplift each other, and pool our talents and resources for the betterment of us all. We're stronger as brothers than as rivals." After a moment, he realized what he said didn't quite make sense, and tacked on, "So to speak."

"You're quite lucky to be working with Magus Dagon." Djedhor spoke up for the first time, looking Ishara in the eye. He seemed more steadfast than the playful Mekhari, which would hopefully make it easier to tell them apart. "He's considered the authority on aetheric projection. A few of us have spoken with him directly, hoping to gain some insight from him. You're fortunate to have ready access to a respected expert."

"I find him... unpleasant. To speak to, I mean." Ukris added his thoughts on the matter. "I always feel like there's something... wrong with him."

Not looking up from his drink, Sekhandur coolly replied, "Perhaps he leaves something of himself behind on his forays into the Aether."

"Perhaps my protege engages in far too much baseless speculation." spoke a long, low voice that did not have a readily apparent source.

Then, a second after she had heard it, Ishara noticed the speaker, who had evidently been using a telepathic technique to divert attention away from his presence. Standing behind Sekhandur, gripping the seated Novitiate firmly by the shoulders, was a tall man in hooded robes of gold and black. His hands and face were as white as bone, and his hair was the pure white of a rare desert cloud. The man's eyes were a raw, bloody red, as though he had just been weeping sanguine tears. The man's pallor gave him an unnatural, corpse-like appearance, and though his features were far from unpleasant, the effects of aging likely dulled by the use of biomancy, his white hair gave him the impression of senescence. This could be none other than the Magus Ashur Kai, known across Photep as the White Seer.

Where Makhai Amon was considered the most influential Sorcerer in all of Photep, those that cared to impose such rankings would be more likely to position Kai above him in terms of sheer ability. Kai was not one to dabble in politics, which he considered a waste of time. His distaste for such matters was as well known as his genius in crafting prophecy and divining the future and the unseen. So when the previous Magister of the Cult of the Crow, Mainyu Azekh, was sentenced to exile by the Crimson King half a century ago, rumor had it that he was not even considered for the position. However, he was content to throw the weight of his reputation around when it suited him, such as when given the opportunity to take on a young prodigy from the Pesedjdet as his pupil. What's more was that he took on Sekhandur as his only Novitiate, when it was common practice for Magi to take on two or more at a time.

"You gossip like an old woman, Sekhandur," he said in his dry, gravely voice, squeezing his Novitiate's shoulders as Sekhandur sat, clearly trying to mask his embarrassment. "I will have to break you of that habit. That said, the only thing wrong with Callis Dagon of the Irkuk is also wrong with me. He simply doesn't fare well in this climate." He looked over to Ishara, noticing that she was new among the gathering of Novitates, and his blood-red gaze bore down on her. "You are the newest of Sekhandur's little band of sycophants, yes? I'll say the same to you as I did to them: don't inflate his ego any more, else his head is likely to explode. If you become an obstacle to his studies, I will have such an obstacle removed."

Sekhandur rolled his eyes, wrenching free of Kai's grasp, "Magus, please." He complained like a child embarrassed by an overly doting parent. He addressed Ishara, apology written plain in his golden eyes, "Please don't mind my master, he is overly protective of me. It stems from his insecurity of having never sired children of his own." Kai seemed to take the returned barb in stride, though his smile had all of the warmth of a clenched fist.

---

Magister Khalophis

"Good, good." Said Khalophis, nodding in turn to each of the Novitiates. "Well, I look forward to speaking with you all again, perhaps once you're wearing something with a bit more color." He punctuated his sentence by picking up the corner of Radaam's cloak, and briefly looking at it with bemusement, before letting it fall back away. "I hope sincerely that young Zahra follows in your stead, Novitiate Esi. She has quite a spark in her, and I could see her achieving much... in the correct Cult." He finished slyly, side-eyeing Kho.

With that, he reached behind his head and plucked one of the peacock feathers from vestments, and held in carefully in front of him. He focused intently on the feather, gesticulating at it with his long, thin fingers. Then, with a spark, the feather went up in flames, but the feather itself was not consumed by the fire. The flame was white, smokeless, and seemed to emit no heat. Khalophis ran his fingers over the burning feather to show that it did no harm, nor did it spread onto his sleeve.

He offered the feather to Radaam, saying, "Give this to her, if you would. There's a good lad. Let her know that I hope we meet again in ten years' time." Not allowing any chance for objection, the Magister turned on his foot and marched back the way he came, leaving the Novitates alone with his strange memento.

Scion: Children of Light

Notes for the Cult of the Serpent: @Vec@Theyra@Hero

Your character is not hallucinating.

If plan to make a followup post, your character should lose consciousness at its conclusion.

Scion: Children of Light

The Cult of the Serpent

The Novitiates of the Cult of the Serpent sat silently meditating for a length of time that none of them could determine. It could have been hours, but it perhaps it had only been minutes. The passage of time was impossible to track in the tiny, sweltering chamber. The fire in the braziers did not seem to shrink at all, but the volume of smoke in the room didn't seem to change either. It was never enough to choke the lungs, but always just enough to make breathing a strenuous task. Still, with what little training they had, they reached out with their minds to feel for any aetheric presences or disturbances, but felt nothing but their fellow Novitiates. This carried on until they felt their patience beginning to slip, and were on the cusp of abandoning this endeavor.

A tiny whisper sounded from the center of the room, "Do you know the secret name of God?"

Eyes snapped open at the sound, but nothing in the room had changed. There was no one else there, just the three Novitiates. And the mushroom, still sitting at the room's center. With no source readily apparent for the sound, they wondered if their minds were playing tricks on them, but they had all heard the same thing. Perhaps Nevrakis was still in the room, disguised or invisible, and was toying with them? It seemed like the most likely answer.

That was until they looked at the chamber's walls. They had not changed, they were still raw stone carved out of the bedrock beneath Photep, but they were different. Where before the mineral veins in the stone and the imperfections in its carved surface were meaningless and random, patterns began to emerge. The chaos of it organized before their eyes, into words they could read but did not understand, and faces they recognized but could not name. The floors took on the same properties; loose, sandy clay now arranged to make a startling amount of sense, like constellations in the night sky.

"You are struggling." The voice sounded again, noticeably louder and clearer. "That is all you ever do. Your life is an endless struggle." It was not a man's voice. It was not a woman's voice. It was not a human voice. They heard it without sound, understood it without meaning. "You can feel it in your hot, animal heart. Blood pumping, lungs filling with air, flesh burning with friction and desire. A constant struggle to stay alive, to keep your imperfect machine of flesh and blood in motion."

The heat and smoke of the room were no longer as oppressive as they were before. Every drop of sweat they perspired felt like a tingling pinprick as the Novitiates became aware of the thousands upon thousands of microscopic processes at work within their own skin. Sebaceous glands produced their skin's oils. Tiny muscles attached to every hair along their bodies, pulling at them in rippling, involuntary waves. Their bodies seemed like separate beings, animal-shapes that their minds had merely attached to, along for the ride but not in control.

"Do you feel it? The fear inside you? It is the only thing your animal soul knows how to make." It was the mushroom talking to them, of course. The realization was so obvious, it hit the Novitiates like a crashing wave.

They turned their attention to it, the wisdom of the mushroom so profound and sincere and nonsensical that it brought tears to their eyes and knocked them to their knees. They looked at it and for the first time saw. It was not the mushroom, it was everything. It was this room. It was the whole pyramid. It was all of Photep. It was so clear now, it seemed impossible that they had not noticed it before. Like an imperceptible membrane, pulsing, undulating, its threading tendrils stretching out over and into everyone and everything, folding back over itself a million times a million times. It had mass without space and it grew and shrank outside of time. It reached through spaces that they did not know were there, so close they could touch but constantly out of reach. As they moved, it moved with them, their every motion and emotion mirrored like their reflection in the sky. It moved in and through them, nestling into the wet, dark caverns in their skulls. The age of it felt like the pressure of the deep ocean, impossibly ancient but reborn anew every waking moment.

"You cannot kill me in a way that matters." Said the mushroom, and they felt the fear reach up from their hearts and grab their brains in a crushing, caressing embrace. This was where they were meant to be, while they were everywhere, and so they could not escape while the fear still gripped them. They saw this, everything they ever were, and looked out into everything they never could be.

Task Force: Sentinel - Occult Covert Operations

I keep checking back onto this and working on my character little by little, but I can't seem to conjure up the effort to finish my CS.

If you have to start, don't wait up for me I suppose.

Scion: Children of Light

Magister Khalophis

Answering Zahra's question, Khalophis said, "No, he wasn't chosen by my Cult, but I'm certain he's a fine lad all the same." A mischievous smile broke across the older man's features as he said, "Come, let's see if we can't liven him up a bit."

Khalophis stood up, and hoisted Zahra to sit up on his shoulder, tickling her face some with the feathers in his collar. With her vantage point above the crowd, he directed her to point out Radaam to him, wherever he was. He departed with a brief word to his colleagues, and the two set out in the crowd. Other Sorcerers that saw him coming immediately cleared from his path, usually bowing to him as they shuffled out of the way. A few in particular, usually those with little birds on their brooches, made a sort of salute as they acknowledged him, twining their hands together to resemble wings.

After a short while and only a couple of diversions to watch entertainers or scoop up tasty snacks, the pair eventually found its way back to Radaam, approaching him from behind. Two other Novitiates were with him, who were at such an angle that they could see Khalophis approach. Once he was close enough, he set Zahra down for her to run and greet her brother, and strode up to them behind her. He cut an imperious figure when standing at his full height, as his colorful robes seemed to practically come alive on his tall, willowy frame. With a thought, he haloed his body in a corona of heat-shimmers, making himself seem as ethereal as a desert mirage.

He laid one if his radiating hands on Radaam's shoulder, grabbing his attention as he announced his presence, "Sorcerer-Novitiate Esi," Khalpohis said, in the most authoritative voice he could muster, "I have just had a most entertaining conversation with your dear sister. She is wise beyond her years, I would heed her closely if I were you." Retracting his hand, he crossed his arms across his chest and continued, "That aside, allow me to extend my personal congratulations to you on your commencement. We will expect much of all of you very soon." Recognizing Khotanebre as one of the Novitiates with Radaam, he turned to address him personally. "Sorcerer-Novitiate Bekenamun, I see you are integrating well among your peers. How is your father?"

The Novitiate and the Magister had met, if only briefly, years before, at a small gathering on another noble family's estate. Various aristocrats, politicians, Red Order officers, and other notable figures had gathered to schmooze and consolidate support for some political venture or another. Khalpohis had been in attendance, representing the Cult of the Phoenix, and spent quite some time conversing with the nobility and Sekhmet masters, including Lord Bekenamun. Kho himself had been dragged along to this affair, as he often was, and the genial Sorcerer had even sat and shared some light conversation with the boy. The Cult of the Phoenix held the reputation of being the most bellicose among the Cults of Heka, the destructive potential of their pyromantic arts heavily valued by the Ruiners of the Red Orders. Khalophis was noted to have a surprisingly ambivalent attitude toward the Red Orders' presence within his own Cult, where most other Magisters held them at arm's length.

Task Force: Sentinel - Occult Covert Operations

@StormWolf Interesting choices, I originally thinking of the more classic Barret M017.

He carries a compliment of white phosphorus grenades as well, for extra burnination, and some other fun toys.

Task Force: Sentinel - Occult Covert Operations

My character is coming together. Might write up the sheet tonight or tomorrow.

He's modified a .50 cal sniper rifle into something the size of an assault rifle. His approach to "decapitating" vampires is more akin to "turning the entire top half of their body into salsa."

Task Force: Sentinel - Occult Covert Operations

@StormWolf Cool. A dhampyr is my current plan, yes. I imagine the Regents maintaining their own sort of small cell of problem-solvers, which my character would be a member. Hopefully we get a little leeway for our depiction of vampire society?

As well, given the general World of Darkness inspiration readily apparent, should we consider vampire powers to be on about a similar level?

Task Force: Sentinel - Occult Covert Operations

<Snipped quote by Dead Cruiser>

!!! You don’t remember me cause it’s been years and this is a new account but I’m glad to see a familiar face.

@WaywardK

Task Force: Sentinel - Occult Covert Operations

Working out my character. Would it be possible to play someone who is working with the Sentinels in a sort of "joint operations" capacity? What I have in mind is a fixer that works on behalf of the vampire Regents that is "on loan" to this particular Sentinel cell.