Edge Town-City of Light

Tim gave Rolo a quick glance. "I think he had no specific one. He was part of Warden Luccio's accelerated training." He paused. "He had a partner, but he wasn't much older and vanished pretty fast on they arrived in Vegas. Probably deserted."

Jarl

"Oh no, it's not a bad time at all. It means I have someone to knock me on the head if I say something offensive." He grinned back. "In all seriousness, I don't have a problem with Catholics. All the Catholics I know are lovely people. It's just that I think your boss needs to fire his Human Resources department."

"And the Pope never did anything to me, his employees just keep getting in the way of me doing my job, and it's starting to get really irritating."

"Just try not to lightning bolt the Church's doors off its hinges just because you don't like their HR department."

Leon grins cheekily at Jarl. Though with a hint of annoyance. He probably hadn't been a fan when he learned about Jarl's encounter with the paranet.

"Well, I'ma go grab Chroma before I actually head out, so bye."

He turned about and started heading back inside.

Alexander

Alexander didn't hesitate a second after he slammed into the car, bar door held in front of him as a makeshift shield. Ibn Khalid's thug wasn't allowed to shoot him, and get away clean. He threw the door to the side, then reached into the car, trying to slam the gunman's head into the dash before they could escape.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jarl and Leon

Michele raised an eyebrow at Jarl, seeming to consider if she should be seriously offended or not. Leon's arrival helped to deflate the tension—his comment drew a snort of bemused amusement from her.

"Avoid that, please. We're visiting a very nice, old church. Let's not ruin the walk. Or the door, it sounds like?"

She gave Leon a parting wave, then motioned for Jarl to follow, heading for the subway.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Tim

Rollo's face darkened at the mention of Warden deserters, his customary scowl deepening.

"A sign of the times. Not enough wizards are properly trained these days. You would think we would have improved over the years. Instead, we end up with battle-trained warlocks."

He shook his head, looking at Tim, his expression again appraising.

"We need more wizards willing to take on apprentices."

Jarl

"You huff and puff and blow down a library door one time and you're the door-killer for life. I see how it is. Should I just start referring to you as the perpetual eight year old from here on in, if that's how we're playing it?"

He grinned back at Leon as he left, then turned to follow Michele's lead.

"The difference is you chose to blow up a library door, I didn't choose to get turned back into a child."

Tim was suddenly feeling as if he was being pitched and it made him...uneasy. It was not the first time he'd had this conversation and a part of his mind flashed back to the one he had with his master a number of years ago. Mainly how he had bowed out of the offer, citing his own feeling of not being quite ready to teach, that there was still so much to learn before he took on that burden. And after all, she had done a good job with him, and he had wanted sister to have the same quality level of education.

Honesty compelled Tim to add that back then he may have argued more out of fear of not living up to the expectations placed in him rather than pure regards to his sisters best interests.

And now? He was sort of stuck on 'Taking a stranger on as apprentice when you didn't bother to have the time on your own baby sister?' sort of self-castigation...and his involvement with Loki and the entire madness these last years had been a very handy excuse.

...Still, the cigar case in his jacket pocket almost grew heavier with the promise that - maybe, possibly, who knows - another apprenticeship might be needed in the family in the for-wizards-not-quite-that-distant future.

Tim cleared his throat. "I was always of the opinion that quality of training was more important for a Wizard than quantity of it."

Well shit, Alex seemed to have things under control. Terry turned his attention to the ubergoon, politely moving the knife away from his throat. "Gee, looks like your buddies aren't super invested in rescuing you," he said, now sounding completely unperturbed by the gunman, the bubble storm, or the man winning a fistfight with a car. "I believe we were talking about you and speaking English?"

Leon and (Briefly) Jarl, Rollo's Lawn.

As Jarl and Michele turned to leave, it may have just been Leon's imagination, but he could have sworn that he saw the a group of bird breaks from the flock that had been disturbed from the tree outside to follow them.

Inside Rollo's house, he was met by hushed voices, the conversation between Tim and Rollo coming to sudden halt at the sound of the door opening. It looked like the two wizards were deep in a private conversation. Disturbing them seemed like a poor idea.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Tim

Rollo leaned back while Tim spoke, still frowning, the lines and scars on his face standing out harshly in the sharp light of the window. The old warden crossed his arms in front of him, good hand rubbing the stump of the missing one as though it itched. He didn't speak, even after Tim had finished, stopping a moment to consider.

The door thumped open, and Leon entered. Rollo's single eye snapped over, and the Tim could see the old man tense, his dead hand reaching for a blade at his side. Then he relaxed again.

When Leon left, Rollo stood.

"Moment."

He thumped over to one of the bookcases on the walls, scanning the upper shelf, and let out a grunt of pleasure when he found what he was looking for, pulling out a book-sized box. He thumped back to his chair, and set it down in front of Tim, revealing it to be stylish little box of Cuban cigars.

"Smoke? Rollo asked, sliding the case open, offering one cigar to Tim, "Since I'm already grilling you."

He grins, scars on his mouth twisting with the expression.

"We can debate how best to teach a student, Tim, but it's not what I'm talking about." He snorts, his gaze pensive. "You're never ready. Litchenberg sure isn't. Not for the cloak. Not to fight Loki, or blast a Fae army with God's own fury. Or for a student. You just...try. And live with the consequences." ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Leon

When he arrived upstairs, Leon found Chroma curled up in a corner of the jar, the little simulacra hugging it's knees to it's chest. It looked up as the door opening, staring at him with its eyeless, multi-hued face.

"Strong emotions. Bad!" It squeaked, tiny voice muffled further by the glass.

edited 15th Jan '18 7:32:54 PM by DrTentacles

Between the darkness of the alleyway and the mix of bright and cheerful colors from the bubbles, Annette had a hard time really seeing what happened to the car when Alexander charged it. What she did see clearly was the before—him ripping a steel door off it's handles wasn't something she could have missed easily—followed by a crashing sound so loud it was like a second car had hit the first one while she couldn't see clearly. But she knew it was Alexander who'd done it.

Annette swallowed, feeling the blood rush out her her face. That. That was definitely not a human thing that just happened. Humans couldn't rip steel doors off their frame, or leave a dent like that in the side of a car. Humans didn't suddenly stop bleeding after being shot twice in the ribs. Humans didn't move as fast as he had. Humans didn't glow silver.

I...almost forgot what he was for a moment...fuck.

Another swallow, and she realized her mouth was very dry and her hands were shaking.

He's really a vampire. Really, really a vampire. Just like Violet. Just as strong and fast and dangerous. Just like Violet. I work for a vampire. A real vampire who can do really bad things. Just like Violet.

Wow, it only took, like, what, eight fucking hours for that to set in?

"H-haah...um...that...that's going to get some attention, I b-b-bet..." she breathed, tongue feeling too big for her mouth as she spoke. "C-C-Can we get to that car, and th-that driver now? Before...before cops are c-c-called? Maybe?"

edited 15th Jan '18 7:12:18 PM by KeiranGold

"Don't mind if I do." Tim said, gingerly got a cigar out of the box and then cut off the end with his cutter before offering it to Rolo for the same purpose. Lighting it carefully.

"And can't this be said to the entire experience we call life? And as for Leon...Leon is more ready to this than he appears, I would say. He's been through some rather insane situations and unlike his partner, I doubt he ever considered quitting. Which is probably getting as close to ready as you get."

"Though I am not quite as sure what this conversation is about now." he added with a slight smile as he puffed a cloud of smoke.

Tim

Rollo let out an amused snort.

"Really? With the way you were deflecting I thought you'd read me."

He took a meditative puff on the cigar, looking at the glowing end contemplatively as smoke filled the room.

"I'm an old Warden, and the Council is at war. I'm going to keep grouching at you to take the grey. And I'm wondering if you've thought of taking an apprentice."

Tim gave off a miniscule shrug and he played for time with a slow draw of the cigar. "Of course I have, in the abstract." He admitted. "More than once...but I feel you have a more concrete thought in mind?"

T&A

Alex couldn't see, but he could definitely hear the sudden sound of something crashing into expensive and fragile consumer electronics very, very hard. He could also feel his fingers getting slightly wet, and he was fairly certain it wasn't sweat.

Of course, it didn't mean the car was stopping, just that all of a sudden, there was no hand on the wheel to keep it from going wherever it damned well pleased. He had two options: Either try and drag the driver out of the car and risk getting shot again, or find some means of stopping the car, and in a hurry.

And because it always seemed like destiny liked pissing in his cornflakes, when Terry moved the knife away, Gorilla suddenly staggered slightly and swung at him. Even if the giant metal chains Sofie had used held his arms together, the guy could still throw that weight around.

edited 16th Jan '18 12:26:00 PM by math792d

Alexander

Shit.

The surge of satisfaction Alexander felt from slamming his opponent's skull into the dashboard was immediately replaced by a spiral of panic as the car continued to move. Shit. It was going to rip his arm off. And then probably careen into the street. And given the way this suddenly gone south, it was probably going to run over a little old lady, her puppy, and a traffic cop one day from retirement.

He couldn't reach the brake from where he was. Could barely see into the car. He tried to step up onto the foot-rail, hooking an arm into the open window, and flattening himself against the car to prevent losing his arm. He barely had a second to think—the only thing that let him act as fast as he did was the constant, beating chill of his Hunger. With his free hand, he started to fumble inside the car, grabbing the wheel, and turning it hard so the car would roll into the wall of a building instead of keep moving, then snapping it down to the gearshift, trying to shift the vehicle into reverse.

edited 16th Jan '18 11:28:41 AM by DrTentacles

Rollo

"Ask for an extra-tall cloak." Rollo snorts, single eye glittering with amusement. "Don't have an apprentice in mind. Just want you to think about it. Hard. There's always kids who need a mentor out there."

The old warden takes another long drag on the cigar.

"That's all. Now. You actually think Hartmann's back?"

edited 16th Jan '18 11:55:15 AM by DrTentacles

Tim silently conceded the point with a wave of the cigar. And then got more serious. "I think so, yes. Necromancers are particularly hard to kill...or rather to keep down." He sighed deeply. "And if its only someone using his name to prop themselves up...I won't object to some judicious overkill on our part if it turns out."

Tim

Rollo let out a profoundly annoyed sigh.

"Shit thing. Lose a hand and an eye to rid the world of some necromancer fuck, and he comes back half a century later." He growls. "Wish I could go back out there and finish it. Not a coincidence that he's back the same time you arrive, though."

edited 16th Jan '18 3:09:56 PM by DrTentacles

Tim let out a barking lough. "Of course its not a coincidence. The only question is why it is not, why does he move now as we do."

Terry had heard the phrase "paranoia will destroy ya" a few months back and felt acutely jealous at the life lived by someone who thought that claim made any goddamn sense. For him, being a jumpy little bastard who went on high alert as soon as the ubergoon staggered ensured that he only took a painful, glancing blow when the chain clipped him rather than a full-fledged Kirk Maneuver to the face.

"Gahg fuckity fuck!" Terry discussed as he dispensed with any further niceties and just launched as many blows to the goon's crotch as he could. Let's see his toughness handle that.

Oh no, everything was going to hell. Again. Alexander was either about to be pulled away by the speeding car or crash it into something, and Terry just got hit by the same ape who got him earlier, and here Annette was having a mild panic attack on the ground. Sitting there doing nothing would have been really easy. Would anyone blame her? She was an inexperience mother dealing with vampires, gun-fights, and goons as built as chimney stacks. She could get away with doing nothing in this situation for sure.

So why in the name of all that is holy had she pulled the potion covered knife from her pocket?

Haven't made enough bad choices today, Annie?

Instead of being catatonic while everything went to hell, Annette got back to her feet—though she was still hunching a bit lower to the ground, since somebody in that car might still have a gun—and moved as quickly as she could to Terry and his new dance partner. A kick in the groin might work to distract, but they needed to subdue. And so she pressed the handle of the knife into his hand. Her palm got cut in the process, the burning feeling of acid digging through her veins and making her eyes tear up, but she still managed to speak: "H-Here! This one has more bite than the other!"

It was something. Better than nothing. Anything she could do to help, she had to try.

"Wha?"

Leon blinked at the small paint entity confused by its situation for a moment. He knew it had fed off guilt so he had assumed it could handle strong ambient emotions, but apparently he was wrong. He walked over to the jar and picked it up bringing Chroma up to eye level.

"Sorry about that. It should be calming down now, and well, gonna take you out and about for a bit too, so that should help too. Not entirely sure why you can't handle this, but I'll figure that out later. Maybe figure out a way to help you deal with it while I'm at it."

Leon

The paint monster happily threw its arms up in the air in reply, sadness gone in an instant.

"ADVENTURE!" It cried out, tiny voice still muffled by the jar.

Leon was just turning to leave when he heard a noise from beneath him, just audible above the dull roar of the traffic outside. It sounded like a voice—a cry of anger, or sadness.

A moment later Leon heard a loud thump from the behind him, the light in the room sudden dimming. He turned—there was something outside on the windowsill. Something big, with white feathers, and giant wings. A swan. A giant white swan was perched on the sill of the rear window to Rollo's apartment, wings spread like arms, pressed on either side, as long as a man was tall. Its long next was twisted in a "J", bend so it could press its head against the window. For an instant, Leon could feel its stare—a single, jet-black eye fixed on him.

Then, with a crack of beating wings, it took flight, soaring off into the Paris sky.

edited 17th Jan '18 8:05:38 PM by DrTentacles

More bite sounded nice, so Terry grabbed the knife and slashed it at the nearest piece of goonflesh. "Are we done? Are we fucking done with you yet? Know when you're goddamn beaten!" he yelled without the slightest tinge of self-awareness.

T&A

It was probably a good thing for the occupants inside that the foundations of L'International were made of concrete.

Otherwise, a car slamming into the building, even at relatively low acceleration, would probably have stopped the party dead and rattled more than a few occupants. As it was, it seemed like the revelry going on inside was keeping away any potential onlookers.

And a cosmic upswing in Terry's life was right around the corner. Turned out that for all his strength and size, Gorilla was just as vulnerable to several hard knocks in the nads as anyone else was. He buckled over, fighting the urge to cover his junk, even when the knife came down and struck...

Huh, that was weird. Anne's potion was designed to give the impression that someone was being struck by acid, not actually make them start burning. And yet, Gorilla clutched his arm and cried out in pain as his arm actually started to emit a stream of smoke like he'd legitimately been submerged in something acidic. Sofie opted to take this moment to shake herself out of the pretty-induced stupor and kick out toward Gorilla's knee. Apparently, the guy was made of stern stuff - his kneecap didn't give way like the other guy's had - but he was thrown off his footing all the same.

"I give up, I give up!"