In theory, we're scheduled to play Nobilis Aug 2nd, 16th and 30th, then Sept 13th and 27th.

The August schedule presents some difficulties however, since Lee and De are tied up on the 16th and I and Jackie will be out of town on the 30th.

SO... this Saturday may be our only opportunity in August -- I'll be trying to get quite a lot of stuff accomplished during this session. Let me know when you'll be able to make it in the comments, si vous plait.

For those of you blogrolling this page, Chrysalis now pings as http://nobilis.bears-cave.com/, not http://www.bears-cave.com/nobilis/

Absent the right flower (or the knowledge of which flower is the 'right' flower) is it still possible to contact another Noble knowing nothing more than their Estate.

If you are in the presence of an instance of an Estate, you can direct a prayer to a Power associated with that Estate. As with any prayer, there's no guarantee that the Power is listening or will answer (your odds, as with flowers, are increased by continuing to try the connection, since it's not possible to "leave a message"), but your nature as a Power will make the prayer more noticeable than an ordinary mortal's prayer. Also, the more important the instance of the Estate, the more noticeable the prayer.

There's also no guarantee that the prayer won't also be heard by some other power than is intended; if you go to a hydroelectric plant, intending to contact the Power of Electricity, they may very well be overheard by the Power of Water, the Power of Potential, and the Power of Concrete -- that said, a similar risk exists when using flowers to direct your thoughts (especially if you don't actually know the Power you're contacting -- familiarity works in your favor) -- while wormword works for contacting the Power of Lost Things, it is the flower of Absence, and might certainly be an appropriate flower for any number of Powers.

Just as a quick summary to set the stage:

Contribution MP rules as they stand:

• Character Thought Record for a session, done before next session: 1 MP
  
• Keeping the Game Quotes for a session, done before next session: 1 MP
  
• Keeping the Game Log for a session, done before next session: 1 MP and 1 DynP*
  
  * - DynP = Dynasty Point (essentially a pool of miracle points that anyone in the group can draw from if necessary, or you can trade them in for stuff if you collect 25). The group currently has five of these.

These basically work like a Restriction that gives you 1 MP when it affects you. There are a few differences, which I've been working out. With a little input from the Nobilis list, this is what I came up with:

• Contribution MPs gained are added to on of the character's MP pools at the beginning of the following session. That's the only time they can be added -- if the contribution wasn't done before that point in time, the MP for the contribution is never gained. Ditto DynP's.
• UNLIKE normal MPs gained from encountering your in-game Restrictions, the MP's earned from contributions CAN take your total above your normal maximum. That is, if you've done your thought record but, at the beginning of the next session, all of your MP gauges are at 'full', you may still add that MP somewhere, thus raising a gauge above the normal max.
• The MPs from this contribution can be added to any pool, so long as all the pools are currently maxed out or higher. If one of your pools is below it's maximum, you have to fill it first before you can 'overfill'.
• If you can overfill a pool, you may overfill any pool you want... they don't have to be overfilled evenly.
• If we get to a session where all MP pools would return to 'full' status and you have some pools overfilled, they stay overfilled. They don't get any fuller. (You'll want to make a mark to show where your normal 'max' is.)
• If you wish, you can buy a "Social MP" (explained here) by trading in three 'overflow' MPs from the SAME pool.

Example 1: Lee turns in a thought record for session five before session six starts...

... wait, that's a bad example :)

... oh, what the heck, it might happen. :)

Example 1: Lee turns in a thought record for session five before session six takes place. At the beginning of session six, he gets a 'Contribution MP'. All of his MP pools are full, so he can add this to whatever pool he likes, overfilling it by one.

Example 2: De turns in a thought record for session five before session six takes place. At the beginning of session six, she gets a 'Contribution MP'. Most of her MP pools are full, but she's down 3 AMPs from session five, so that's where this regenned MP has to go.

I realize that some of you have regens from Contributions 'waiting in the wings' at the moment, so if you've kept track of them then by all means add them in -- I trust you. If you've done contributions but you don't know how many of those Contribution MPs you've used, talk to me and we'll figure out a roughly equitable number.

(19 July 2003)

A reading from The Book of Chrysalis, Chapter 5, Verse 1 ...

Then did Macy, whose flower is jonquil, sit within the Chancel library, reading its contents in a short time, and so gaining knowledge, if not wisdom. And she used the wormwood she had gathered to speak unto the Spirit of Lost Things, averring her kinfolk acted in honesty and sought the truth.

She did learn in the library the Rite of Lost Trails, which then she did use to find which of the Fairy Rings did travel to the City of New York, in the east of the land.

Then did she speak unto her Anchor, Jessica, and confronted her for acting falsely. Jessica confessed that she had been ordered to be friend to Macy, but that their friendship had been, after that, an honest one. Macy was cold in her anger, though, and ordered her servant to Central Park, even though there were agents watching her.

Chapter 5, Verse 2

Donner saw that his household within the Chancel was intact, and so did seek out his Anchor, Gwen. He feared that the passages to the Chancel were being watched, and sought to learn by stealth if this were true. Gwen, a thief and crafty, volunteered.

So then did Donner seek any kin still within the Chancel. And so he came upon Mariska, Guilt, in whose charge the city was placed, being mighty in her Domain. They spoke of how to ensure that none could spy upon the Chancel. Though gargoyles did guard the entrances, there was no border guard, nor sentries. Donner advised that magic could ward the town, and so Mariska issued an order across the land that those who could cast such spells should gather together to do so.

Then did Donner wander the town, as befit a noble, until he grew bored and flew up into the clouds, learning of his powers, and the heavens did rumble and flash.

Chapter 5, Verse 3

June, Domina of Reality, did stand within a corn field in Iowa, and found there a crop circle, in the form of the letter "K" in the script of angels. About it, the corn spirits, fecund and gravid, seemed intoxicated as by strong wine.

She did travel then to the House on the Rock. No crop circles were there, but within, amongst the maniquin angels, she did meet with Penelope, of Blessed Memory.

Upon the television, when she left, she saw reports of other crop circles, forming many letters in the script of angels. She did note these, so as to decipher them.

Chapter 5, Verse 4

Sian, Terminus, and the Graf strode upon the World Tree, on their quest for the burial ground of Aaron's Serpents. Hours and days it seemed they traveled, branches the size of planetary orbits, aurorae in the spaceless space.

They did reach the bole of the tree, and chose the downward path. But before long, they felt a great trembling in the crevassed bark about them. It was another of the Serpents, kin to Amaciel their Imperator, hundreds of miles long. They fled to avoid being crushed, but it did speak to them, naming itself Orochi. It knew lost Amaciel, and said they should seek him out after they had grown in knowledge.

Further did they travel on their way, until, in a forest near the canyon they sought, they were set upon by flying arrow snakes. Punishment, Death and Fungus quickly dispatched their bestial attackers.

And yet, again, in traveling further, they did encounter at the mouth of the canyon, an angel named Sammael, who warned them of great dangers ahead, greatest of which was a roc. They took their leave, and journeyed onward.

Chapter 5, Verse 5

Macy did direct Jessica to a cave in Central Park, and so brought her through to the Chancel, destroying the path behind her. Accompanying was a fairy of the acquaintance of Fungus, Tinkerboy by name.

Macy brought Jessica to the house of her predecessor, but would not stay there herself, for she still was wroth with her Anchor's deception. Even so, she considered how she might restore Jessica's youth and beauty, for her anger and sadness was tempered by her love.

Chapter 5, Verse 6

A servant came to Mariska, and did inform her that a stranger awaited without, desiring an audience. It was Ife Hapura, Domina of Friendship, and Noble of the First Castle. Ife sought, she said, to reach an accord, and supposed that the innocence of Amaciel's nobles might be established, and so they could be fostered out to other Imperators.

But, lo, the tamerisk June had ensorcelled to bloom when near the sword which had harmed the Locus Sanguinus, did indeed flower with Ife in the room. And so did Mariska struggle mightily with Ife, calling for Donner to come to her aid. And the two did capture the one.

Captured, Ife cried out to her brother, the Bronze Man, who did echo her name in rage. So he come to the Chancel to rescue her, mighty in his wrath. He leapt across the sky of that city to rescue his sister, and so was seen by Macy, who beheld him in anger, and did seek to strike him down. They fought, and the puissance of the sword the Bronze Man bore was too much for Macy, leaving her bloodied and weakened. And the Bronze Man demanded Ife be released to him.

Chapter 5, Verse 7

June looked upon the message cast in the corn. "LOOK CORN HAHAHAHA," it said, and she was sore perplexed. And so she returned to the Chancel, to ponder these words, and where else the spirit of Amaciel might still dwell.

There did she hear the great cry of the Bronze Man, and the warning issued to all in the city by the magic of Donner, to fight or flee. In the distance she heard the sound of Macy's gun, and went toward it, finding at its source Macy, the Bronze Man, and Donner as well. Donner agreed to the Bronze Man's terms, even as the intruder and Macy did speak of their anger toward each other, in great righteousness and indignation.

June, though, told the Bronze Man of the tamarisk, part of which she bore, and which in his presence was abloom. He swore his innocence, but was troubled by her words, and swore to investigate. Ife was brought to the Bronze Man, and tender was their reunion.

Chapter 5, Verse 8

And so did Sian, Terminus and the Graf enter the valley of the Sepulchre Adforari, and scattered about them were many bones of others who had so intruded. And, lo, a great roc descended upon them, for to add their bodies to those littering the land. But Death's mighty foot caused the bones to rise up and strike the roc, while Punishment did leap upon its back and smote it with her spear, and Fungus attacked it with a cloud of spores, to choke its breath and fill its lungs. The roc was driven off, defeated.

And so they came to the graveyard itself, and amongst the burial mounds there did find a bay tree all aglow, a mound of moss and mold extending beyond it as the other mounds. But within lay only a great snake skin, which collapsed at their touch. Sian called out the name of their Imperator, but no response came back. They left, after Terminus paid his last respects.

After a time, they sought Orochi, and finding him, sought his guidance. The great Serpent told them that, along the Appian Way, past the Inquisitor Chancel of Locus Abrolam, they might find word of a Serpent which was disruptive of ordered ways. And, should they find this Serpent and speak to him, they might learn much.

And upon Orochi's departure, they did pray unto the flowers of their brethren, and so did come to speak with them, and all learned what strange things had passed amongst their kinfolk.

Thus endeth the lesson.

Coltsfoot is the flower of Sian, Punishment. Its Victorian meaning is Justice Will Be Done You. An appropriate sentiment for Punishment, whether it is directed at victim or perpetrator.

Other names are Fafara, Coughwort, Horsehoof, English Tobacco, Bullsfoot, Foalsfoot, Horsefoot, Butterbur, Flower Velure, Hallfoot, Fieldhove, Donnhove, Son Before Father, and Tussilage, Pas d'âne . It's botanic name is Tussilago Farfara.

It grows wild (a weed, in other word), often along railways and roadsides, both wet and dry climes.

Its leaves are used as tinder, and its flower used for any number of purposes (as befits a non-poisonous weed). It is a demulcent, expectorant and tonic. One of the most popular of cough remedies, it is generally given together with other herbs possessing pectoral qualities, such as Horehound, Marshmallow, Ground Ivy, etc. It is often applied by smoking, hence the name "English Tobacco."

The leaves grow after the flower, hence the old name "son before the father."

Interesting references here, here, here, here, and here.

Cunningham's Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs gives the following disturbing information:

Gender: Feminine
Planet: Venus
Element: Water
Powers: Love, Visions
Magical Uses: Add to love sachets and use in spells of peace and tranquility. The leaves, when smoked, can cause visions.

Huh. Wonder if Imagination suggested that flower to her ...

The general Victorian meaning described at the top is pretty widespread. But there are a few exceptions. Maternal Love and Care, for example (Mommy Dearest?). Or I’m Just Not Ready to Make a Commitment. (funny site).

The question:

Is there any real reasoning behind not allowing players to spend 3 miracle points to get +3 Miracle Level, requiring instead the Deep Miracle for 4 miracle points to go the full 4? I can understand the point of not allowing 5, 6, or 7 (holding back for the Word of Power, and the benefits/dangers therein), but why exactly is the advantage of going 1, 2, 4, 8? As opposed to 1, 2, 3, 4 --> 8?

I've likened it to throwing a baseball.

Let's say you're standing on the pitchers mound. You have an attribute of 2 (which in this example is not a particularly good throwing arm -- you're probably the replacement pitcher for a recreational softball league :). Throwing the ball to any of the bases is about like doing a level 1 miracle. Simple. Piece of cake. Maybe Throwing it quickly is a 2. Also a Simple miracle. No problem.

Throwing it really hard, but the same distance (as in, putting penetration on it and getting to home plate fast), is going to cost you 1 MP. You've still got distance control.

Throwing it to the shortstop if he's playing deep for his position is 2 MP. It's hard, but you still know that x-effort = y-distance. Your ARM also knows there's a significant difference between throwing it hard to home plate and throwing it out to the deep shortstop.

Now if you have to go further out, things get hairy. You've got a guy playing shallow right field (technically, 3mp for a level 5 result) and a guy playing Deep Center field (4 mp for a level 6). The problem is, when you start to talk about stuff that is that far out (Deep miracles), you can't really think about different efforts -- for you, getting it to the shallow guy and the deep guy both require a Big Throw, it's just that one probably gets there with some zip on it (penetration) and one just... gets there. To your ARM, it's pretty much the same distance/effort.

Beyond that, there's really only one level of effort: Over the Fence. You can (maybe) throw it that far, but you're going to hurt your arm or shoulder doing it... you probably won't be throwing anything for a while after that. That’s a Word of Command.

The family gathers in a large meeting room. The chairs are pushed back against the walls. The nobles are seated in a circle on the floor. Moonbeam helps with the memory rite. She does a good job as the rosemary thurifer.

The rite returns our missing memories in a rush. A few meetings with Amaciel stand out. One in particular from a few months ago sticks with me. We are in the caves setting up a new fairy ring. It’s been two years since we built one. Amaciel is in reduced serpent form.

“Michel, what projects are you working on?” He asks

I describe the new tunnel in the chancel that will serve as a mold garden, and a new fungus I created just for air conditioning ducts. We prepare to create a bridge between the chancel and the prosaic world.

“Would you like to send or receive?” Amaciel asks.

“There is no need for you to guise. And I don’t think that Silicon Valley would interest you.” I reply.

I rot and reform in California. My old self helps to form the basis for the fairy ring. I establish the other side of the ring in a park and repeat the process on the prosaic side. Returning to the chancel Amaciel looks pensive.

“You will forgive my asking…”

“It is always your prerogative.”

“Your way of travel, it is creative. Do you actually die?”

“In a sense. It is like shedding your skin, if the skin went all the way down.”

“Are you afraid of death?”

“I’m not attached to my corporeal body.”

“Don’t think of this as a censure, but I wonder, as a philosophical question, if that fear of death, not knowing what’s on the other side, if it was removed would it change humanity. Even I don’t know what is on the other side – well, maybe I do. I shudder to think what would happen if I tried that. Well, I won’t shudder because the roof is a bit unstable here.”

The others have had similar revelations. We compare memories and put together the pieces. Amaciel knew it was coming. He was banking on the offender to continue his wrong behavior and thus clear Amaciel’s name. At which time we can restore him. Death knows were the body should be. Reality knows where the spirit might be. Guilt is working on a “Find the Guilty” Rite.

Guilt calls me to the heart of the chancel. The others tag along. Guilt shows me some mold on the statue of Amaciel. It is unique. I do a divination and find a thread from the statue to more mold somewhere far away. I concentrate on that link while Guilt, Punishment and Reality perform the “Find the Guilty” rite to determine who harmed Locus Sanguinus. Their answer is a sword, like that on the Bronze Man.

After talking to some friendly, or at least not total hostile, nobles, the family determines that the sword is one of three that were made by Desecration’s Regal. They are held by Lord Entropy and two of the Inquisitor chancels.
We shared the Guilt rite with Locus Sanguinus and found out from them that the drain of the chancel had continued after Amaciel’s execution and was continuing still.

Punishment and Death go with me to the world tree. It still holds all the awe and wonder that it did the first time I saw it. I miss Amaciel. Death leads us towards where his body should lie. It is in the same direction as the fungus. I worry that it is too soon but I need to do something, and walking the world tree is definitely something!

Everyone has just gotten a point and they are discussing what they want to spend it on.
Margie to Punishment: Are you saving up for a personality?
Stan to Punishment: Getting the stick out is 2 pts.

-----

Lust discusses getting rid of the “respectful” handicap.
Jackie: When it comes up I’ll be respectful.
Dave: And you’ll get a point.
Margie: And a butt-load of money.
HG: And two cars.

-----

Margie: Energy... isn’t that one of the pavilions at EPCOT?

-----

Fungus: I’m not depressing. I’m a fun-guy.
Randy: Don’t worry, you aren’t sporing.

-----

HG: Cicera is an angel. That means he is a ponce.

-----

Lust: I love it when parents find friends for their kids who can’t make them.
Margie: You have a play date!

-----

HG: What happens when you eat a soul? It takes a few weeks to digest.

-----

Guilt: Every rite involves Guilt.
Randy: Every wrong involves Guilt.

-----

Randy: Donner is not Sonic the Hedgehog!

-----

HG: Lust and Death will carry Fungus.

----

HG: In other worlds, punishment may be different outon the world tree, but the execution is the same.
Punishment: So to speak.

BACK IN BLACK

Back in black
I hit the sack
I've been too long I'm glad to be back [I bet you know I'm...]
Yes, I'm let loose
From the noose
That's kept me hanging about
I've been looking at the sky
'Cause it's gettin' me high
Forget the hearse 'cause I never die
I got nine lives
Cat's Eyes
Abusin' every one of them and running wild

Back in the back
Of a Cadillac
Number one with a bullet, I'm a power pack
Yes, I'm in a bang
With a gang
They've got to catch me if they want me to hang
Cause I'm back on the track
And I'm beatin' the flack
Nobody's gonna get me on another rap
So look at me now
I'm just makin' my play
Don't try to push your luck, just get out of my way.

A day went by and no one attacked. We waited, debated and prepared the Rite of Rememberance. Well, June and Fungus did. Macy wanted to rescue the old woman from the apartment and make her an anchor. Before that was clear I offered to, shall we say, put her out of her misery. (The age had fallen upon her in moments, she knew too much… oops.) The Bronze Man would be watching though and we didn’t remember enough for more devious methods.

Finally the Rite was ready. We gathered together and did the right things… I remembered conversations with Amaciel. And Amaciel Himself, my beloved lord. He wanted me to broaden the scope of my Domain. The spark of attraction or interest between people, for instance. I wasn’t all that receptive at the time, but now it seemed like an excellent idea. With Macy as Lust I was less likely to crowd her Domain. Maybe I should spend some more time doing the traditional Thunder God thing. Maybe I should get a grip an concentrate on surviving the next few days or weeks.

I have a cat named Fishhook – and I’ve seen her a couple of times giving me the hairy eyeball. Pissed off about the feeding schedule, no doubt. I’d better be careful putting on my shoes. And I collect theramins. I remembered what a bureaucratic rat Mitchell Skinner was. I remembered all Gwen’s favorite things and my fingers tingled. I remembered the weapon I’d inherited from two Electricitys ago, one of Zeus’ lightning bolts. No, really. It might even be true; I had to do a miracle just to pick the thing up without frying. Using it would really hurt.

We all came out of our trances and compared notes. Amaciel had known something criminal was going on and had suspicions of who was responsible. He might have taken steps and attempted to arrange some sort of rebirth. The Graf was part of his power and It did that sort of thing all the time, so maybe.

Macy said that Sisera and Amaciel had arranged for her to succeed as Lust. I wouldn’t put it past the boss, and I couldn’t resent it even though I knew now that Electricity’s avatars did not last all that long compared to most of the others.

Mariska/Guilt remembered a Rite Amaciel had taught her to find the guilty – Punishment’s kind of guilty. She and Punishment and June would be just about perfect to perform it. She had also seen a vision of the Bronze Man, Jealousy and Friendship talking about the sword that would be used to execute Amaciel.

Mariska led the way to the Chancel’s Heart with Fungus, Punishment and I following along. The Boss’ icon was toppled but undamaged, and covered with moss and mold. I thought the fungus was significant. Is there, somewhere, a gigantic fungus slowly becoming Amaciel? The Graf did things to discover what the fungus was linked to, if anything. It was, to a point on the World Tree. A place where Imperators were buried or went to die.

Then Eternity returned my call. They were still being attacked. He still suspected us but seemed a bit swayed by the fact that the Boss was dead and neither we nor he had the kind of powers – timeless void powers – indicated. Eternity said that they had long thought the damage to their Chancel was from the War. Lost Things did a rite that showed the attacks had been going on for two years. (Amaciel had mentioned two years of continuous crimes to Punishment when questioning her on the nature of serial killers.) They reported it to agents of the Valde Bellum. The First Castle Chancel – Sacrifice, Friendship and Knives – looked into it and traced weird foreign flowers from the Locus Sanguinas chancel to Amaciel. I told Eternity that we were investigating and were willing to share information since, in my opinion, we were next on the list. He said he’d try to convince his familia.

Mariska, June and Punishment readied the new rite. Punishment seems to think that if the Boss was guilty, which is possible, then so are we and we deserve to be punished. June was concerned about the guilt issue. Mariska enjoyed the guilt issue, but disagreed like the rest of us with the deserving punishment part.

The Rite showed a sword, very much like the one used to execute Amaciel, floating in a void. None of us knew anything useful about such swords. I contacted a friend of sorts, Byron the Viscount of Birds. (Byron’s master, Fritheswith is the only Imperator who never acknowledged Lord Entropy’s authority. He has, in fact, never spoken since asked to do so. Byron dislikes Entropy and his agents but his familia kick major Excrucian ass on regular occasions. Byron knows a lot and his Imperator is older than the War.) Byron agreed to look into it while pretending to be only marginally aware of our ‘difficulties’.

Byron informed me that there were three such swords, forged for Lord Entropy by Meon, Regal of Desecration. The First Castle had one, Locus Abrolam (home of Strife, Chaos and Borders) had another. Entropy carried the third himself. With one of the swords a mere Noble could execute an Imperator and recover the deceased’s energy. Pen Lo, the Imperator of First Castle, was usually too deep in the War to do such things himself; that’s why they had a Sword. Had one been stolen? Had an Inquisitor chancel gone bad? Might the swords act on their own? Could someone have forged another? Byron said that the Valde Bellum had assigned the Locus Nephys (Conspiracy, Regret and Justice), another Inquisitor chancel, to assist the First Castle after the execution went wrong – after we did not die.

We agreed to offer the Guilt Rite to Locus Sanguinas in exchange for the rite used to implicate Amaciel. I called Eternity – he answered right away – and told him about the three swords and the Rite. He’d had some success in convincing his cohorts to play along. I mentioned that we’d found hints that Amaciel had bee investigating some great crime before he was framed and killed – half the family looked like they wanted to strangle me before I blabbed that the Boss’ death might be temporary. What am I, an infant? I was an FBI agent for 12 years, dammit, -- which might account for why he was fingered. Giving us the other Rite would show their good faith. They agreed to the deal; as the wronged parties and with Lost Things leading the way the Guilt Rite should work for them just fine.

We had to know if the Boss was coming back. Terminus, Punishment and the Graf would walk the World Tree to find out. Terminus and Punishment are stealthy, deadly and fast and the Graf was needed to home in on the fungoid connection. The Graf could always use the Suicide Express option to leave in a hurry. The rest of us would guard the Chancel and work on that rite that pointed to the Boss.

The family has decided to remember what they have forgotten. I for one would be happy to stay in the dark about somet things; memories are not always a good thing and I get the feeling there are some things I do not want to live through again even if it is just in my head. This isn’t really a democracy, though, and no one really cares what I think so they trudge forward with flowers in hand.

The one bright spot: maybe I'll find out what really happened with me and the angel.

I am never alone in my new memories. I would not be so lucky. It’s the angel and he is talking to me like I am an incompetent child far beneath the task he is asking me to do. He expects me to screw up and is counting the ways in which I can or will.

It makes me wonder, not for the first or even fortieth time: if I am so damn horrible, why the hell is he sending me anway?

My perspective changes and I am now the thing I hate, I am him. He is just pushing her (my) buttons for fun and wants to push her (me) down just to see how she (I) reacts. What an asshole. There is someone else in his head too, except this is someone he respects and he is being warned about his methods.

Yes indeedy -- he should be warned, because I have seen how the play ends and I am certain he did not heed the warning.

Another memory: It’s the woman who is now my new "anchor" and I'm remembering how we met. She is a very kind gentle person and we are hiding our friendship from the angel for whom we both work as anchors, but I realize in the NEXT memory that he knows because he arranged the whole thing, and I am torn. How could he do that and that bitch has just been pretending all along. I hate them. I hate them both right now and this girl will need to be punished.

I should have let her die.

The memory of meeting with a mysterious man. I do not know his name and he is not giving it. He is going to kill the angel and is offering me the angel's power. I know I can change the power -- make it better -- make it right. I will not use my people the way he used his love or hate.

He knew. The man I swore allegence to when the angel dies is, I think, the Angel's boss, but the angel knows. Knew. Whatever. He knows he is going to die and he is/was scared. Serves him right, if you ask me but no one is. I still hate him even if he is being weak and vulnerable. I could have made my own friends if I wasn’t being sent all over the world on his whims -- I wouldn't have needed his assigned playmates.

I killed for him; it was my job and I was good at it.

Explain that to your friends.

I laid still and pretended to sleep, both because I'm tired and because I'm curious what the family talks like to each other. Donner doesn’t seem all that upset that I have replaced the angel but others are really unsure and given the chance and my turned back, they would surely stick a knife in it.

They need to get back to someplace they are calling the chancel, but they need to be armed first. Donner is making some calls for weapons, but we aren't going to survive long without money. They are all sitting around talking about how to get money as though this is such a difficult thing. I'm not going to speak up -- I'm just going to go solve the problem.

I need new clothes anyway. Broken glass and leather don't mix well and this was one of my favorite suits.

When morning comes I leave this building in search of someone to help aid me and lavish me with gifts. My list of needs are a new suit, a couple vehicles, and cash. While most people think drug dealers are good for nothing, I happen to know they are a great way to get cash in a short amount of time -- usually I'll just beat it out of them, but I was beginning to get the impression I had more options available to me. Fungus had set Hank’s friends off to get cash by selling 'hippie drugs' but my way seems so much more efficient: find someone who has the money, then take it away.

The new suit is not exactly what I wanted because I'd have to special order what I want. I have two suits now on special order and they should be back in a week, until them I am stuck in something that, while it looks alright, doesn’t really suit my taste. The guy who buys it for me (I don't bother hearing his name) says it looks alright.

I return a few hours later to the group who have (of course) been sitting around just talking and accomplishing not really a damn thing. I try to hand the rest of the money to... Fungus, I guess it's name is. It seems the to be one of the least objectionable creatures to me, even though it looks weird, but it isn’t "allowed" to handle money, so I give it to one of the old ladies -- the one who wasn’t spending last evening getting trashed. I am tempted this morning to make loud noises and sudden movements at the lush from last night but I'm able to control the urge.

We have to wait around a bit for Donner’s friend to show up with the guns and shortly afterwards we pile into the two vehicles I've obtained. Thankfully stick-up-her-ass Punishment has decided to ride with Death. Fungus, and Reality are coming (heh) in my car and Donner took off through the electrical wires. That worked out pretty nicely; everyone who I can stand in my car and everyone else in the other car. Well I should say I am not sure where Terminus stands on the whole new Lust thing but I'm not envisioning any heart to heart talks in our near future. I have no use for the old alcoholic Guilt Guru in my car (or life for that matter) but you never could pick your family.

If that's what they are to me.

They are planning for some big fight at their home base but when we get there it is empty of all the bad guys, which is really too bad because being around some of these people really makes me want to hit something. I guess there is always tomorrow.

Session Four Notes -- June

1. Paradise Lost

After we performed the ritual to recover memories lost, we stood as immobile as statues. Some of us seemed puzzled--Macy clenched her fists and ground her teeth--and I wept. I lack the rest of the family's inner strength. I'm an old woman who's found something I left behind without knowing it. Just like the nursing home. Put a TV guide down on the dresser and find it days later in the closet. Talk to a visitor for hours about your kids' grandkids and remember a month later--if you remember at all--that he was your nephew and that your brother had just died but you couldn't make it to the funeral because the pains were too bad.

I remember my last conversation with Amaciel now. He knew. He warned me to take care of the others, to hold them together and try to understand--something. He never got to tell me what it was he wanted to understand, because the sky shattered into blue glass and he told me to run. I ran; I've always been a coward.

The conversation began differently, though. He asked me about some of the places I've been and the people I've talked to. I'd just been to the House on the Rock for the first time, so I told him about it. And the cornfields I went through on the way there. I even gave him some cheese curds I'd bought elsewhere in Wisconsin. He was fascinated and amazed that humans actually took the time to form small balls of spoiled milk into such random shapes, and then pack them together so perfectly. "An art," he called it.

I think he was pulling my leg.

2. Finger pointing and hair pulling.

Rituals and more rituals. Mariska, Sian, and I held a ritual to determine guilt and received back only the image of a sword. Death knew the sword--one of the inquisitors' swords, used to kill imperators and draw their energy off to another. I cast another ritual to help us know when we'd reached the particular sword we were looking for, bound it up in a sprig of Tamarisk, or salt-cedar shrub, for the crime that had been committed with the thing.

In putting together the memories that we had all recovered, I'd decided that Amaciel had been innocent. I have no proof, no logic but a few deductive clues (and even the fictional detective Sherlock Holmes would say that a theorem must be tested), but I finally have the assurance of faith. Amaciel is alive--or existent--and he's trying to flush the criminal into the open.

But who?

My heart, inept but influential at this kind of thing, says that it goes back, directly or inadvertently, to Lord Entropy. He's a corruptor; the inquisitors follow him. The sword is an inquisitor's sword, and it's an inquisitor's sword that's done the work.

3. The tree.

Death, Sian, and Fungus departed for the world-tree Yggdrasil to search the graveyard of the gods for Amaciel's body. I couldn't bear to go.

When I was much younger (barely newborn to this new life), Amaciel took me out of the Earth and brought me along the paths of the world-tree. I wasn't ready. The world-tree is the opposite of everything I hold dear: I love small, petty, insignificant, changeable things. Amaciel claims that it's the tree itself that should be impressive rather than the size of it.

I like trees. I don't like trees more important than the Earth itself.

I stayed behind to search some of the places I'd mentioned to Amaciel during our last visit. Maybe he'd find a way to hide in one of them, scattering his spirit into the growing ears of corn, waiting to be planted next spring. Maybe he was hiding behind one of the pictures of the magicians in the cafe at the House, or inside the cymbals of the Mikado mechanical band.

Session 4 Game Log...July 5th, 2003

I. Worlds of our own

The family meets in a large common room to perform the Memory ritual after several days have passed. As the Memory ritual takes hold, each of the Nobilis retreat into their lost memories.

1. Re-vision--Electricity

Donner and Amaciel walk down a road in Ginza. Amaciel is guised as a human--although humans tend to view him as a tall, bald alien (if they are occultly inclined) or as "some kind of circus freak" (if not). Donner and Amaciel discuss the nature of Donner's domain: Donner sums up his power as energy. Amaciel debates this philosophically, adding that electricity can also be seen as beginnings, sparks, interactions, and “the electricity between people.” He encourages Donner to broaden his perspectives, but notes that Donner’s concept of his power isn’t in itself wrong.

Donner also remembers his anchor in the FBI named Skinner and his cat, Fishhook, whose fur had always crackled to the touch. He also remembers a similar conversation with Sisera Twice-Born: “You’ll learn to interpret your estate--of course, some people never do. But that’s fine. I’m sure you’ll be different.” Sisera gives him a Hollywood smile. (Sisera Twice-Born is so named because his original Imperator died, yet Sisera survived to be adopted by Amaciel.)

2. Big Truffle in Little China--Fungus

Amaciel watches the Graf set up a fairy-ring leading to a new strain of mold in the air ducts of a Silicon Valley office building. The Graf is able to form both sides of the ring on his own--otherwise an impossible job--by letting herself die and reforming himself at the other end. Amaciel, in the form of a world-serpent, questions her about the process of death and rebirth he experiences. He asks if she fears death and wonders if his lack of fear has detracted from Death itself. Has the Graf changed humanity with her casual attitude? The Graf answers that humanity’s views of death and what happens afterward depend on what humanity believes (not necessarily on how he lives and dies). Amaciel wonders that while she know what happens after death, no human knows. Amaciel supposes that what awaits him on death will be like shedding his skin and comments, “But for you? Your skin goes all the way down.” Graf counters that her body is not her essence. Amaciel leaves her with the comment: “I may consider doing something similar. I shudder to think what that would do to my constituents.”

3. How the game is played--Lust

Sisera Twice-Born sips brandy in his abode and details Macy’s next mission to her. He gives her the bare details and takes every opportunity to insult her. “Any more detail would confuse you. Go on.”

Macy’s memories switch perspective, and she’s looking through Sisera’s eyes at the same memory. The angel pushes for negative reactions from Macy deliberately. After Macy leaves, Amaciel appears and comments that Sisera has made a good choice with her, although his methods are harsh. Sisera adores Amaciel and laps up the praise. Amaciel cautions Sisera to consider that while he has made Macy a fine weapon, he should question what kind of person he’s turning her into. “I’ve made mistakes,” Amaciel says. “There are consequences.”

While on a job in New York for Sisera, Macy meets Jessica, a hooker and madam that later becomes her anchor. As their friendship progresses, they realize that they’re both anchors for a higher power--and even later realize that it's for the same power. Sisera apparently doesn’t know that the two of them know each other; he likes to keep his agents separate in “terrorist cells of lust.”

Macy switches to one of Sisera’s memories to a time before she’d ever met Jessica. Sisera gives Jessica Macy as an assignment. “What do you want me to do?” she asks. “Be her friend,” Sisera answers. Jessica isn’t used to such limited work: “That’s it?” Sisera has used his tone and words to set Jessica against him, and she’s very antagonistic. Sisera adds that Jessica is to conceal the nature of her assignment from Macy. “She can’t ever know this is coming from me.”

Finally Macy remembers a meeting with a tall, dark man. They make a deal: Sisera is to die soon, and Macy has to be present so she can take over as Noble. The dark man will provide the opportunity if Macy will swear her allegiance to him. “No names. That’s not part of the deal,” he says. He does reveal his face to her, however.

4. Purpose and Responsibility--Guilt

Amaciel asks Mariska to help him perform a rite to determine the guilt of a crime. “I have identified an act for which we must find a perpetrator,” he says. The crime has been going on for two years. After performing the ritual, Amaciel, in the form of a world-serpent, manages to look troubled--without frown lines or eyebrows. He asks Mariska how she views the chancel at present, and she comments that she can see room for improvement. Amaciel assures her, “You will find some kind of equilibrium. They will come to love you.”

Mariska remembers her anchors, including Christopher, her unworthy son-in-law, and a scene that Christopher saw just after she fled the chancel. The Bronze Man carried a massive sword, and Czerny, the Power of Friendship, and the Power of Loyalty, and the Power of Jealousy walked with him. The Bronze Man explains that the sword isolates the power of Imperators and draws it off. The Power of Loyalty comments that it’s appropriate to destroy Amaciel in the same fashion as Amaciel destroyed their chancel and wonders if such a sword could be used to destroy a chancel in the first place. “That is not its purpose,” the Bronze Man answers.

5. The taste--Punishment

Amaciel appears to Sian and asks her about killers and their motives. “Let’s say the authorities found someone they thought was guilty but was later found to be innocent, because the real killer didn’t stop killing. Why wouldn’t a killer in such a position stop killing?” Sian answers that she doesn’t normally delve into the motives of a murderer but supposes that killing might become a force of habit. Amaciel asks how long it would take to acquire this habit or taste--would two years be enough? Sian agrees. Amaciel asks what Sian did for amusement while still human. “I passed the time with others on the force...I played cards, enjoyed an occasional night out...I studied a great deal.” Amaciel comments that Sian has been an experiment for him, as he usually “hones” a person before bringing them into the fold, but has left Sian untampered (except for the small matter of his/her gender, of course). He sees the results as successful in many ways.

Sian recalls the flight out of the chancel. She fought a group of eyeless attackers--mannequins, actually--belonging to the Power of Lost Things. She used the exit back to London, but was followed by one of these constructs.

6. People, places, and things--Reality

June is shocked to discover that she, too, has lost memories. Just before the attack, she and Amaciel talk in a chancel courtyard. He loves to hear her tell stories about the people she’s met and the places she’s gone in the outside world--he finds it hard to evoke the same responses, being only able to pass as a kind of freak among humans at best. June tells him about the House on the Rock in Wisconsin, about cornfields in Minnesota, etc. Amaciel’s reactions to her stories are somewhat delayed; it sometimes takes him a couple of minutes to “get” them, and laughs at seeming random intervals in their conversation.

June remembers a time soon after she was ennobled when Amaciel brought her to the world tree itself. She wasn’t ready to know so much so soon.

Amaciel, during their conversation before the attack, asks her to hold everyone together in an upcoming time of crisis. “Keep them organized. They’re going to have problems; try to understand--” A huge crash shatters the sky into blue shards. “Run!” says Amaciel. June flees to the cornfield they’d been discussing moments before.

7. The place of skulls--Death

Amaciel asks Terminus if he can remember the first person he killed, and Terminus does, down to the last detail. Terminus can remember the details of every killing he’s done, and comments that he feels that molecules of the souls of every person that was killed remain with him. Amaciel then asks Terminus if he can remember why he killed anyone, but Terminus says he cannot. Amaciel says, “Nobody does anything for no reason. Don’t forget that once you were a man; a man is more complex than a Power.”

Terminus remembers Amaciel bringing him to the world tree, specifically to the place where Imperators’ bodies are brought to rest. Amaciel reveals details about this place, whose name is Sepulcrum Adforari, to Terminus, including the nature of its guardians.

II. Shared destinies

The family awakens from the ritual and shares their new knowledge. The general impression is that Amaciel knew that a crime had been committed, and either knew or suspected the identity of the perpetrator. He seemed to know that he would be blamed for the crime, and may have taken steps to preserve himself through a kind of rebirth. Several possibilities are discussed.

June, Mariska, and Sian perform the ritual of Guilt to determine who attacked Locus Sanguinus, the wronged chancel. The image of a sword--identical to the one the Bronze Man carried in Guilt’s chancel-memory--appears. June casts a ritual that will act as a kind of “geiger counter” whenever the flower comes near the sword in question. The Graf discovers that Amaciel's icon within the chancel's heart is covered in a mold... mystically connected to a giant fungus beyond Earth, and determines that he didn’t cause it to appear herself.

Three of the Imperator-killing swords are known to exist. One of them is with the "First Castle" Inquisitor’s chancel (i.e., the Bronze Man). The second sword is within the chancel Locus Ambrolam (another Inquisitor chancel). The third sword is with Lord Entropy himself, or his people. They were created, as the Bronze Man said, to kill Imperators. They were created by Meon, Desecration’s Regal.

The family turns over the Rite of Guilt to Locus Sanguinus to help persuade them that they are innocent (in the hopes that Lost Things will in turn give them the ritual they have recently used to detect if someone is siphoning off a Chancel's energy -- it seems that Locus Sanguinas is still under attack).

Death, Fungus, and Punishment leave Earth on a path to the Ash tree, intending to find Sepulcrum Adforari for Amaciel’s corpse, or locate the fungus/mold that is tied to the mold on Amaciel's chancel-icon.

Amaciel once said, “You people think the world tree is amazing. There’s nothing particularly amazing about size. Trees are amazing.”

Nevertheless, they’re awed.

Death says, “Adforari’s that way.”

Fungus can feel the tug of the spiritus within the icon-mold -- it lies in the same direction.

There is a word which, in the Latin, means:
- to follow to the grave
- to follow to the end
- to avenge
- to punish
- to explain a thing
- to suffer
- to endure

... depending on context. Exsequor.

It and it's meanings are profoundly apt as regards the events surrounding this story arc.

They walked the road of the World Tree.
One of the roads. There were of course thousands, but this was an important road to them, one that led from their world to others, thence to the rest of creation.
Others hunted them. This, they expected.

Via Marn (who probably never thought she'd provide grist for an RPG), a great site on the meanings of flowers throughout the Victorian era (broken down by mini-eras within as the meanings changed), much of it based on an 1883 advice and etiquette book the author got from her grandmother, which then prompted further research.

Currently, the site is here -- although the author mentions that the site is moving to attbi by the end of October, that obviously might not be happening, since attbi.com is going away by the end of the year.

Good stuff, regardless.

"I'm not sure if they ever asked for it, but flowers have always borne the often absurd weight of our meaning-making, so much so that I'm not prepared to say they don't ask for it. Consider, after all, that signifying is precisely what natural selection has designed flowers to do. They were nature's tropes long before we came along. ...
"This stands for that: flowers by their very nature traffic in a kind of metaphor, so that even a meadow of wildflowers brims with meanings not of our making. ... Sometime long ago the flower's gift for metaphor crossed with our own, and the offspring of that match, that miraculous symbiosis of desire, are the flowers of the garden."
-- Michael Pollan, The Botany of Desire

What are we but memory?
Losing our past changes us.
What then when regained?

Well, if I were a verser, as Tennyson, then I would be Viscountess Poetry, not Punishment. As it was, I know my mind is sharp enough that, should I choose, I could pen these chronicles as sonnets (Shakespearean or the Dago Petrarchan). But they would be as lifeless as that Japanese haiku.

But Imagination did say I should stretch myself. And so, a triplet of lines, for one's entertainment. Even to do so much, to entertain myself, seems ... foreign. Is that a good thing? Or a bad one?

It had been a few days since we retook the Chancel (so much as one can be said to retake something not held). We'd fended off some miscellaneous spies, dispatched some, allowed others to escape if it would mean leaving our safehold.

We stayed, then, in our Chancel. Lust wanted to rescue one of her Anchors from New York, to bring her back to safety -- but the Bronze Man knew of the woman, and would likely be watching. We could leave -- perhaps. Not all the exits into New Orleans would be covered, let alone through the Fairy Rings -- but the Inquisition would be on the look-out at any of our old haunts.

But that day, the Rite of Remembrance was finally complete. We were all assembled in a large, ornately decorated chamber -- a dining room, perhaps, though all the furniture was pushed back to its edges. We sat in a circle, bits of plant and flower smeared about our bodies.

The words were spoken, and someone hit me in the head with a sledgehammer, a kaleidoscope of images and smells and colors and textures and --

It was some five months ago. I was walking through the streets of Istanbul. A meeting of European Union officials was taking place there during the week to discuss cross-border water policy. It was a cover for a meeting of a sex slavery ring, run out of the government houses of most of the continent. They were having an after-hours dinner meeting that I would be attending. I would be the only one to leave that meeting alive.

But first, a long walk through the streets of this very old city, so deeply stained in evil as to be as black as the night.

"Siân."

He was beside me. As was his wont on Earth these days, he was tall, gaunt, unearthly even as he (it seemed) strove for humanity in his guise.

"My Lord." As he was walking beside me, I did not break stride. If he wanted me elsewhere, as he on occasion did, then my plans for that night would make no difference. If he did not, then I did not want to be late for my appointment.

"No need to be so formal, Siân." He smiled. I amused him. I knew that, without resenting it. I merely nodded in return.

"I need to know about killers."

Now it was my turn to smile. I still had that much sense of humor, even then. "I daresay I can tell you a thing or two."

"Don't be facetious, Siân." He was keeping pace with me easily, long legs striding back and forth. He was, in his true form (so far as I knew, now) a serpent the size of a freight train. But he made the transition to human form and movement with little effort. "I've been looking at histories. Of you. Your people, that is. Humans."

I nodded. I was aware, in all directions, of people who needed me, of people who deserved me. It was maddening, once. Now, a century later, I was able to filter it, prioritize it, weigh my decisions without passion. Well, perhaps not without passion, but with focus.

"A hypothetical, then, Siân. A serial killer is on the loose."

I could handle that hypothetical. Saucy Jack was the first I'd known, but not the last.

"Now," Amaciel continued, "the police have caught someone they think is the culprit. They are wrong, as you know they sometimes can be."

That hurt. I'd been one of their number, once. Those who sought to enforce the law held a special place in my heart.

"So the real killer is -- how do you put it ... off the hook? The police are satisfied they have the culprit. He will be found guilty. All the killer has to do is ... stop. But he doesn't. He continues to kill. He draws the police back to his trail." He glanced over at me. "Why? Why doesn't he stop?"

That wasn't easy. I tried to continue walking as I considered. After a few moments, I replied, "My Lord, I don't usually consider ... why."

He laughed again. More mockery? It was difficult to tell.

"Perhaps, then," I said, slowly, "it is force of habit. One does what one knows to do, whether it is to one's advantage or not."

He nodded, considering. "How long would it take for something like that to become a habit, do you think? After two years, perhaps?"

The serial killers I'd known had started early, usually, with lesser killings -- insects, animals, perhaps a childhood acquaintance. They'd been killing for years before they began their actual spree as adults. And yet, those final deaths had often come in a very short time. Sometimes it was years -- if uncaught. More often over weeks or months. "Two years? I'd certainly think so." I added, "Though but once is enough."

"Of course, of course." That smile again. Paternal. Understanding. Infinitely approving. It made me feel warm, despite myself.

After a few moments more, he added, changing the subject, "So, tell me, Siân. Before I came to you, what did you do? For fun, that is? I know of your profession, of course."

I considered, conjuring memories (in turn conjured as memories in the present day). "Well -- I suppose much as others around me did. I would socialize with others on the force, as seemed proper. Some -- I did not socialize with. But others, we would have a drink now and again. Or play at cards. I was always good at cards. I learned in school -- whist, for example, was one of my favorites." I thought of the play, trumps taken, points counted, the subtle byplay between partners.

It occurred to me that I'd not played cards since the day I'd been taken into Amaciel's fold. Did people even play whist any more? I had no idea.

"But," I went on, quickly, "I did not have much time for that. There was charity work for the church which I busied myself at much of my spare time. And studies -- I was the youngest detective in the Yard, and needed constantly to prove myself, and to show that new ways had advantage in pursuit of criminals. And --"

And not much more than that. Women, on occasion, though I shunned with disdain those brothers on the force who used their position to extort favors from those they ought rather to be protecting. But my work had kept me busy, and, largely, satisfied, and with all else I'd been involved in, "fun" had been a relative term. And Father Dafydd had not approved of "fun," on principle -- save for the joy of song, and, yes, an occasional game of cards.

I hadn't sung much, either, for many years, it also occurred to me.

"You know, Siân," Amaciel was saying, "you were an experiment for me. Usually I spend time -- well, honing a person, before I bring them into the fold. You were different." I glanced at him, and he went on, "Not that I regret that."

He did not say why I had been different, nor was I of a mind to ask. Shying away from that, and maybe the question of what "fun" I'd once had, instead, my thoughts were on his earlier question. "On serial killers -- perhaps they continue their murderous activities," I said, slowly, "because they feel -- well, that they must. That it is what they are here to do."

"A calling, would you say?"

"A vocation, yes. A ... duty, even." And that thought was, perhaps, still more uncomfortable. Save that my duty to punish -- yes, ofttimes kill -- was divinely ordained, and in a cause I could no more ignore than I could the rising and setting of the sun.

And do not the mad killers often think the same of their reasons?

Amaciel went on, "Would you say, from another perspective, that it is a matter of greed? A lust of some kind, that must be slaked?"

I nodded. "An obsession -- an addiction, even. Yes, mayhap. Any experience, even one so foul as murder, can become intoxicating. Once tasted, even a single draft, it can require a constant refreshing of that experience. Reality pales, and so they must repeat what they have done." And, like an addict, greater, stronger doses would be necessary. Yes, that made sense.

He smiled at me again, approving. "You are quite the philosopher, Siân. I am glad I selected you."

Joy was not in my heart that I could dance about at his words, but still they pleased me greatly. I nodded to him, graciously, even as we strode along. "My Lord. Will you accompany me on my rounds, then, this eve?" It was something he had sometimes done in the past, observing my works. As much as I understood our relationship, I know that, if I were Punishment, that, too, emanated from Amaciel, and was part of his spirit and domain as well.

"Not tonight, Siân. But thank you."

And even that felt good.

I fled down the tunnel below (part of, but subterranean to) the Chancel. The conjured troops of the invaders pursued, smiling men with no eyes, the forces of the Marquis of Lost Things. I'd killed many, the Spear gleaming bloodily in my hands, but the supply seemed endless, and only that I was Immortal had brought me free again and again. I could not stop this invasion, or even slow it much. And I had my orders.

I dove into the fairy ring, down where Fungus dwelt, and found myself in a London alleyway, moldering and noisome rags beside an ashcan scattering in all directions. One of them followed, and I fired a tight cluster of rounds into his chest, even as the heavens tolled, and all went white ...

It was a rare visit by me to our Chancel. I walked its streets, watching the women plying their trade, safe here. I glanced overhead at the leaden sky, seeing the gargoyles wheeling about, wondering if I should join them --

RUN!

Amaciel's voice crashed through my thoughts, nearly stunning me as though it had been shouted in my ears. I did not hesitate, but ran for the tunnels.

I awoke. And was myself again.

Yet, not. If I had all my memories returned to me (so far as I knew, of course), still I had -- if you can follow the paradox -- memory of my times without memory. The alleyway. Imagination. Meeting my brethren for the "first" time. Those events had, even against the weight of a century and a half of further existence, had an impact. I knew I might slip back into my old patterns once again, and without too much difficulty (I could picture Imagination's face puckered up in distaste) -- and I wasn't sure if that was something to be desired or not. I would have to see.

We spoke, then, of the visions of our past that each of us had. Many of the most vivid memories tied to conversations with Amaciel. There was nothing odd about that, per se -- I would expect our patron to be the most "real" thing to us. But those conversations had a strange, common theme.

Fungus suggested that, based on the questions Amaciel had asked me, that if we held out for a time, it was likely that the true culprit of the attack on the other Chancel would resurface, attacking once more. An interesting theory ...

Lust, for her part, was overly-pleased to proclaim that her memories demonstrated that she hadn't killed the angel, Cicera, the previous holder of her Domain. Who, then, had? It was ... oddly enough, it was the one that Cicera had called Master, and at whose hands Cicera had welcomed death: Amaciel. Our description of our Imperator matched the one who had conspired with Lust -- Macy, at the time -- to slay her Nobilis, to whom she was an Anchor.

(I use, I note, with perspective of my brief time of amnesia, the Domains of my brethren to name them, rather than their given Christian names. This might seem a distancing measure, and, perhaps, it is. But bear in mind that, in my time, nobles were still referred to by their titles or domains, rather than, in most cases, their Christian names -- thus, Westmoreland, Sussex, Morley, Gloucester. Even in these modern times, with the diminishing of mortal nobility in Britain, the custom remains, though somewhat diminished as well. So, consider it courtesy, or habit, or depersonalization, however you will. To be sure, I do not know which it is.

At any rate, Lust boasted as to how she was groomed to take over in her role. Certainly Amaciel had mentioned that he groomed people. Death, for example, revealed that had been a warrior, and then a sword for thousands of years, in preparation for his Domain ...

Guilt said that she was preparing a special rite that would find the guilty -- my kind of guilty, not her own generic sort of torment. Guilt worthy of punishment. I was capable of divining such things, as part of my Domain, but the rite Guilt was planning was able to pierce that veil even if Nobilis -- or Imperators -- were involved.

Guilt recalled a memory she had received -- though not of her own, but of Amaciel's. The Bronze Man, Jealousy, Friendship, were discussing a weapon that could -- that would be used to execute our Imperator. It was a sword, the memories said, that could have been used as well to attack the other Chancel, the Locus Sanguinus.

(The first Inquisitor Chancel that was brought into the case was the First Castle -- the Bronze Man, Jealousy, and Knives. They were later joined by the Inquisitor Chancel of the Locus Nephys -- Justice, Conspiracy, and Regret.)

Lust, as it turned out, was still gloating over being exonerated for the death of Cicera (I didn't mention that it was only her word of her memory that made it so -- though there was an odd sense of truth about the memories we related to each other). She grinned, nastily at me, that she was not guilty of anything that would warrant my punishment. "Not bitter, are you?"

"Nobody's bitter," I replied.

"Somebody is," she retorted.

"Not bitter." I fixed her with a stare. "Just unconvinced."

"Not my problem."

I maintained the stare. "It could be."

"Good luck with that," she said, sarcasm dripping from her lips.

"Thank you," I said, sincerely.

I was uncertain of Lust's innocence -- well, to be honest, her innocence was not in question, since it was a quality she utterly lacked. The only question was whether her guilt encompassed her former Nobilis' death or not.

But I was still uncertain as well of Amaciel's innocence of the charge against him. The questions he had asked of the others, of myself -- they might have indicated, as was speculated by some of us, that he was exploring in advance the charges against him, and planning an escape (why were we still alive?). Or, equally, they might have indicated his very guilt. Was his questioning of me about serial killers something in the way of a confession? Such killers often laid the groundwork of their own capture, revealing what they were doing. Often, it seemed, they sought to be known for their crime. Was it purely ego, then? And was it a sign of Amaciel's guilt?

Two years, he mentioned. The time it might indicate that a crime was habitual. That was, coincidentally enough, the time it had taken for the attack on the Locus Sanguinus to be detected. Did that, in fact, indicate he was to blame, seeking either to understand his own actions, or else boasting of them?

Guilt went once again to the Heart of the Chancel. Her icon was there. Amaciel's (humanoid, large, vaguely African in theme, and crafted of wood) was tumbled -- but, significantly, it seemed, not broken. And it was covered with moss and mold.

Guilt, naturally, called on Fungus. Electricity and I accompanied it to the Heart. The mold was indeed mystical in origin -- but not from Fungus. From Amaciel, then, who shared in the Domain of Fungus?

Fungus used a Major Divination to determine that the mold was, in fact, tied to someplace far away -- off the world, in fact, somewhere on the World Tree, where it could see the path leading. That tied in with a memory that one of the others had, that there was a place upon the Tree where Imperators went to die, or where they were buried.

Eternity, at that moment, called Electricity, with whom he had been in contact before. "Who is doing this?" he asked, because -- the attack on the Locus Sanguinus was still occurring. Eternity told us that it had taken so long to detect the attack because they felt that the damage being done to their Chancel was from the War, not realizing it was from an explicit attack. When they realized it, they had found strange, foreign flowers growing there -- flowers which had then been traced to Amaciel.

That would seem to counter the idea, ironically, that it was Amaciel. It was unsubtle, to say the least. Unless he wanted to be caught ...

Lost Things had determined that the attacks were continuing. Eternity (named Avrileros) agreed to see if their Chancel would give us the rite they had developed to trace the attack back to Amaciel.

The obvious thing to do, to the others, was to trace the mold trail out onto the World Tree to Amaciel. I raised the issue (to be contrary) that if Amaciel had fled because he was framed, we were doing him a disservice by tracking him down, and "blowing" his cover. On the other hand, I noted, if Amaciel were indeed guilty, we were duty-bound to track him down. At least, I was.

That brought up again the question of Amaciel's guilt with the others. Certainly, it was acknowledged, some serial killers sought to be caught. I was asked why I assumed he was guilty. I told them it was only justice I sought -- and asked, in return, why they assumed he was innocent.

The others were unconvinced by my reservations. Well, not entirely. Reality shared my concerns. Guilt (of course) agreed that it was at least possible -- though she disagreed with the obvious corollary, that if Amaciel were guilty, then we shared in that guilt, and rightly shared in his punishment.

How, if we pursued Amaciel, would we keep the Chancel safe? We determined that rites could be performed through our Anchors here that would do so. Which called to my mind, suddenly, my own Anchors, and I felt an unexpected stirring in my heart of ... affection for them. But I dared not contact them yet. If I were indeed guilty, and would be killed, I would not have them share that fate -- the further, mentally, I stayed from them, the more I hoped that they would be safe upon my death or destruction. I hoped.

Even as I made that decision, I was amazed by the feelings that accompanied it. It would bear further examination ... later.

Guilt had finally finished her Guilt Rite, and directed it, with the help of Reality (the spirit of truth) and myself (to focus on just cause for punishment), to determine who was guilty of the draining of Locus Sanguinus ...

It appeared the guilty party was ... a sword. A sword in fact, very similar to the one the Bronze Man had in fact wielded to execute Amaciel. In the vision incurred by the rite, it floated in a void (the "timeless void" to which the power of the Chancel had been drained?). But who had wielded it? That would take another ritual to find -- it was far too powerful for me to divine. Reality conjured up a flower that would detect the sword should it come near it, but that was as good as we could do at the moment.

Fungus argued that it was better to find out who was behind this before we pursued Amaciel.

Electricity contacted a "neutral" ally of his, the Power of Birds, to ask about the sword. Birds took the information, then curtly cut him off with a "I'll get back to you."

There were, we learned, three swords, forged for Lord Entropy (by Meon, Desecrations Regal) specifically to deal with "bad" Chancels. The Bronze Man and one other Inquisitor Chancel (Locus Ambrolam, home of Chaos, Borders and Strife, the latter of whom bore an Excrucian weapon) had one of the swords (the other two Inquisitor Chancels did not). Entropy himself bore the third. None of them seemed likely candidates for framing Amaciel.

So, was someone imitating the power of one of the swords? The rite implied otherwise. Had someone created a duplicate sword? It seemed nearly impossible. Was one of the swords themselves acting on its own? Absurd.

It occurred to us that Locus Sanguinus might be able to more effectively use Guilt's Rite, since they were intimately involved in the damage done. We decided we would offer it to Eternity, in exchange for the rite they had used to trace Amaciel.

In the meantime, three of us would track Amaciel through the tools we already had. Fungus had a tie to the mystical mold on Amaciel's icon. Death could track down an "Imperator's Graveyard" through his own means. And I ... I had a personal stake in tracking down Amaciel, and that might give me some useful leverage.

I was not myself sanguine about traveling the World Tree. My perspective, even with memories restored, was closer to the Prosaic World than the Mythic. Other worlds would have different views of punishment, which would in turn have an effect on me.

Still, it was what I had to do. It was, in essence, a duty. And so it was something I could not shirk.

We stepped from the Chancel onto a branch of the World Tree, from which worlds hung like fruit, including the own vast Earth that was my home. Amaciel had once told me, upon introducing me to that sight, "What is amazing is not that there's a huge, world-spanning tree, but that there are trees at all." Perhaps, but the World Tree had always filled me with awe, and now was no different, especially with the mission before us.

Death oriented himself, and pointed out our path. And so, grimly, into dangers known and unknown, we went.

Thanks to Dave, we now have pix of the guised Amaciel Cathetel.

Amaciel in Imperator garb.

Amaciel doing his absolute best to 'pass'.

(In fact, I would say Amaciel has never looked as... normal as he looks in the second picture -- try as he might, he's simply too alien. That said, that still might be the way that some of you see him.)

I awake.

Something is very, very wrong. I do not sleep.

My eyes open to darkness, there is at least comfort in this. I am confused, and thus angry. I take a moment to calm myself, pulling my thoughts inward, but … there are few thoughts to gather. I do not know who I am, where I am or why. Flashes of memory skitter away like cockroaches from light.

With a growl I pull myself from the long steel cabinet in which I lay and sit up. A brightly lit room smelling of antiseptics and cleaning solutions, the overhead florescents make me wince. The gape-mouthed attendant is unable to answer any of my questions, I am not sure why I allow him to live.

I leave the building and walk out onto a crowded street, stumbling as I am overwhelmed by the sensation of life. I can feel it pulsing in the hundreds nearby, a reverberating bass pulse with innumerable rhythms. A red haze passes before my eyes, I feel an insatiable desire to wave my hand and snuff them all out. My lips stretch in a thin smile as I straighten, arms spreading wide in preparation for …what? I am not sure and perhaps it is better that I did not find out. A wrenching sensation and I was gone from there, pulled like a fish on a line to somewhere else.

A colliseum. No, some sort of museum. I stand in an open air atrium and suddenly there is a sword in my hands and the confusion is wiped clear. This, this is right. A man stands across the square from me, flipping a long fighting knife casually in the air. We speak briefly and I begin to remember things about him. Discussions we have had about the feel of a blade as it slides into flesh, sparring sessions and battles. But the things that he says are madness and he thinks that he is going to kill me. I turn to leave, tiring of his posings and knowing that he will attack. We fight. He causes the blade of my sword to disappear and I curse myself, knowing for some reason that I should have expected this. I can feel power gathering behind my eyes but I am helpless to do anything with it. Frustration builds and I begin to make mistakes. The man, Cerny Krizova, Baron of Knives, makes none. For some reason, the idea of dying, especially here, seems particularly ironic to me.

It’s a bitch and a half trying to make plans when your memory is fried. Trying to do that as a brain-fried group is worse, much worse.

After jabbering back and forth with scraps of information we were back to Waiting For June. I mentioned Macy’s shaky membership in our happy family to get it into the open. I didn’t want Punishment to decide to do something about the former Lust’s murder at a bad time. Punishment – everyone else’s name comes naturally to me -- but Sian strikes me as having become her function. It’s a really big stick, up there really far, and it’s been there for a very long time.

Macy took off and got some money and more expensive hooker wear. Can’t decide if she fucked somebody’s brains out or mugged them. Not my business either way.

I meditated, or mentally banged my head against a wall, until I hold of my other “anchor”, Special Agent Skinner. Gwen was right: we don’t like each other. At all. I arranged for some guns – pistols, assault rifles, shotguns – to be made available from the local office in the morning. Military grade stuff will have to wait until we can raid some real whackos, or an arsenal.

June came through – teleported, zapped, appeared, whatever – to Hank in a cute little ritual that involved her knocking back a shot of bad whiskey. June is an older woman, or at least looks that way, with a kind of grandmotherly wisdom about her. What she’s doing in our group…

We learned a little more about what’s up. June didn’t know for sure if Amaciel, our deceased boss, was guilty or not. It bothered her. It bothered Punishment too, I think. Mariska, Macy, Fungus and I were less concerned with guilt (yeah, I see the irony) or innocence and more with Us versus Them.

One interesting point, at least to me, was that the Boss was supposed to have hurt this other Family by breaking off chunks of their Chancel and stuffing them in a “timeless void”. As I understood it, the Boss’ powers were expressed in us. None of us had any such powers.

Then “Death” made an appearance by jumping over from another rooftop. Punishment and Macy were on it before he landed, the rest of us reacting a second or two later. No fight, thank, um, Goodness? The Tree? (Where did that come from?) More jabbering. Other Powers than the Inquisitors and Eternity’s family were taking an interest. This Goose person had helped Terminus – Death – to spite Lord Entropy. The Power of Imagination had what sounded like a professional interest in Punishment, and maybe some of the others.

I went out for flowers over the wires and came back with a large but lightweight selection, trying not to think about just how I turned my clothes and things I was carrying into electricity and back again. Got them in Los Angeles. If I were Them, I’d monitor large, odd purchases from flower shops if I could, and maybe they had the Power of Retail Sales on their side.

I talked to Eternity’s flower – June knew what it was – and left a message questioning the method used to attack them, vis a vis the Boss. Talking to freaking flowers… there are downsides to being a supernatural being.

We adopted my plan. Get the guns, drive to New Orleans and the Chancel, I’d exhaust myself zapping the bad guys in the upper levels via Gwen, The Graf would do horrible things to the intruders on the lower levels through its Anchor and then Terminus, Punishment and Macy would kill, capture or drive out the un-zappable and un-fungusable ones, with Mariska acting as our eyes and ears and June reinforcing the Reality of our inevitable victory. Not, I’ll admit, a plan that would get high marks from Patton or Napoleon or Bobby Fischer, but it did suit most of our desires or compulsions. In my case, my people were being hurt and those responsible had to be stopped, and to suffer.

Guns, cars – they drove from Chicago to New Orleans in an hour and a half --, me zapped down and scouting the perimeter, contact Gwen and find out the bad guys have gone away. Did they go because they knew we were coming and ready to nuke them? Bad – how did they know our plans? Good – they ran. Bad – I want to kill the motherfuckers who pushed my girlfriend around. Yeah, I’m fucking Tarzan. Mr. Primitive. Mr. Natural… crap, that one feels right.

So, what next? Memory, allies, truth, revenge, maybe a nice big bronze statue of Daffy Duck...

So, during the last session, some folks asked "are there any NPCs we were friends with who might still be willing to help us out, despite what's going on?"

Here's what I've come up with:

Donner

Byron, the Viscount of Birds, some two hundred years old, is the de facto spokesman for his Familia. He replaced the rather better-liked previous Power of Birds, Brangeir. Brangeir's favored bird was the eagle, and he was an honorable, straightforward warrior who had saved hundreds of other Nobles before he was slain by a Kraken.

Byron's favored bird is the crow. Make of that what you will.

He delights in making other Powers look like fools, and some whisper darkly that he spends more time Nettling others than fighting the Excrucians. Despite his many less-than-admirable traits, Byron can be a fun individual to be around. He's funny and quick-witted, and if you are the type who enjoys a certain amount of disrespect to authority, you might find yourself agreeing with his barbs. He's an outspoken critic of Lord Entropy and his agents -- while he stops short of obviously breaking any of Lord Entropy's laws, he makes it known that he thinks that they're a bunch of crap.

He can get away with this because of who his imperator is: Fritheswith, Angel of Stillness, Winds, and Birds, has maintained a Chancel on Earth since before the Excrucian War began. As such, there have been some adjustments for him to make over the years. By far the largest adjustment has been the agreement of nearly all of the Imperators to put Lord Entropy and the Council of Four in charge of the Earth. Fritheswith is the "nearly" part of "nearly all." Sometime at the beginning of the Excrucian War, when this matter was under debate, Fritheswith simply stopped talking.

Entirely. Fritheswith is the only Ymera on Earth that has never accepted Lord Entropy's rule. Not that he has openly rebelled -- but his silence, most feel, must be indicative of something. The arrangement as it stands today works like this:
- Fritheswith's people do not blatantly break any of the rules.
- Lord Entropy's people do not pay heed to rumors about them.
- Fritheswith's people remain very strong members of the Valde Bellum.

It is a fragile arrangement, but it works.*

Fungus

Jasmine, Duchess of the Verdant -- a young woman only recently made Noble during a... as you heard it, a rather abrupt enChancelment. The two of you became aware of each other almost immediately, and you've found her a pleasant young girl, if somewhat whimsically dissociative. Like you, she has a fairly large Familia with a lot in common with your own, but you gather she doesn't really trust all of them.

Macy

Sorry Charlie, the only Noble you knew was your former boss (unless you count a certain Mysterious Figure, but you don't know who that is).

Mariska

Helissent de Reymes (Power of Mazes), whom I believe I mentioned last session, might have been reasonably well-known to you.

Sian

It is both Dave and my opinion that Sian's spent more time alienating people than make close alliances. That said, Haley, the Power of Imagination seems to be quite friendly with her and might be willing to help out.

June

Julianna Avram, the Power of Strength. See the Example of Play and "Nobles made simple" for stuff on Julianna. She is pretty much as she appears (although her 'sister' isn't the Power of Eternity -- that title belongs to Avrileros). You've encountered one another a few times and, despite the separation of generations, gotten along just swimmingly -- part of that might be the very similar ways in which the two of you view your estates (and perhaps other unspoken similarities related to June's personality).

Terminus, a.k.a. "Mr. Pointy"

Aside from Cerny, there is the Power of Extinction. She's a relatively 'young' Noble -- a former carnival fire-eater whose Imperator is the White Tiger of the West Wind (a Chinese macro-demon). She has yet to grapple with the complexities of her estate and the larger world of Nobilis politics, so you might be able to get her to help out a bit out of ignorance. Her strongest skill is the extinction of pain and other physical sensations. Her Familia are the Powers of Apathy and Autumn.

Session 3 -- June.

1. Bitter Taste.

My further thoughts on justice: there's justice, and there's the laws. Justice happens when you get what's coming to you, one way or another. The laws are what come to get you when there's no justice. My father taught me that a long time ago.

My mother taught me to turn the other cheek. Sometime I'll have to try that, but not today.

D--- laws.

I let the woman go. When Amaciel gave me a part of his spirit, it lay over things I never missed: bitterness, hatred, resentment--and a little bit of freedom. The part of this woman's spirit that had been laid over must have been the joyful part. Or the part with the sense of humor.

I faded into the aisles of the filling station and let them twist and wind with trinkets and gewgaws the way they'd always wanted to, if only the owner would let them. The laws got lost in a thousand packages of pork rinds. I called Hank to bring me home, and I was gone.

He knows I can't stand the bitterness of cheap whiskey. Whiskey only makes you cry. Turns out that Sisera was dead. Well, I had to drink it anyway, didn't I?

He was a good friend when I needed one, back when I was learning how to let go of the old life. Don't get me wrong; I could have strangled him at times. I hadn't seen him for years, though.

His replacement, a hooker named Macy, shoved a hatful of money at me, because she thought I looked trustworthy. Oh, she makes me laugh. She's just the kind of little bird that Hank used to write stories about, when he was still writing.

2. Leap of Death

Next thing I knew, as I was contemplating killing a couple of pigeons and wondering if I had time to roast them up right when I'm done using them to summon Death, who should have made a grandiose leap onto the roof but Death himself. It was all guns and shouting before I realized who it was. I let the pigeons go.

Death. Like most of the family, he'd lost his memories. Not that he'd been one to talk about them--I heard once that he used to be a sword. I don't know if he's ever been a proper man, properly speaking. Well, he wasn't any more pleasant than he was when he knew who he was, so that's all right.

The family sat down and talked business for a while. We traded gossip and happenings back and forth, and under my breath (I knew he could hear me), I told Death that if I ever found out that he'd been doing something dishonorable regarding the situation, I'd betray him. "Oh, really?" he said, reserved as anything.

Well, it's like this. I'm a rabbit, and he's a snake that's got me fascinated. The funny thing is that I like him. No character, no enjoyment of life, no sense of humor. And I'll probably never know his name, if he has one.

3. New Orleans, only more so.

We drove to New Orleans with the intention of to kill off all the foreign chancel-folks that work for the Inquisitors, but there was nobody home. I didn't mind.

If I had to describe the chancel, the Home, I'd say it was like New Orleans, only more so. Ladies of questionable character, murders, all the private dramas that go on behind the wrought-iron fences and cause everyone to wear spectacles with smoked lenses to cover the bruises as they sip mint juleps in silver cups. More gargoyles, the kind that crawl from cornice to cornice when they think you're not looking. More Mardi Gras. More shiny beads, made from precious stones the color of blood instead of bright plastic. More fat cooks of all colors and sexes. More litter in the streets, if that's possible to imagine. More dark things that come when they're called, and more things, light and dark, that walk in clothes of human flesh. The difference that makes the difference most tangible to me is the bronze statue: in New Orleans, it's Louis Armstrong. At Home, it's Billy Holiday. Other than the statue (and the music), everything has an air of the turn of the century. When I'm Home, I can't bear to leave. When I'm out, I don't think of it twice in a month. Sometimes New Orleans itself is enough. If I'd been to either place as a mortal, I think I would have been in a snit for years that such places could be allowed to exist, let alone celebrated.

Postscript.

I don't know how to write this without breaking my heart with hope: the thing in the heart of the Home that should be ruined with Amaciel's death isn't ruined at all.

The family milled about on the roof, waiting for Guilt before summoning Death. They are all so young.

Punishment is stalking the wall, like one walking the battlements of old. She knows that she must be vigilant, but can’t remember why.

Electricity is zipping about. His thoughts are running a mile a minute. (More like 130,446.5 miles per second give or take 30 miles per second.) He wants to get guns and storm the Chancel. I would prefer knowing more about who are enemies are before going in.

Lust is feigning sleep. She is trying to make sense of all of this. What an unfortunate time to be born.

Guilt is trying to drink away the truth. Or she is using the common cure to Guilt.

I find Guilt the least stressful, so I go over and try to help her remember the Chancel and who and what we are. She gets some flashes of the Chancel and its inhabitants. Many are being held in warehouses, but the gargoyles are still free. They are pretending to be stone, a good natural defense. The heart of the Chancel is still intact. One of the statues has tumbled over, but is not broken.

While we are talking, Lust leaves the apartment. I make some psychedelic mushrooms for the hippies to sell, so we can buy guns. I add a little something in to make the users not want to use soap.

Hank talks to Reality and then summons her to the roof. She ran into Jealousy and some of her family at a mini-mart. Because she is Reality, her memory is intact. She remembers the fight in the chancel and everyone leaving. She remembers Amaciel, our imperator. She knows that she was not involved in any conspiracy against Jealousy’s family.

Lust returns with a bunch of paper money. She tries to give it to me to hold onto, but in a few hours it would only become part of me. She looks puzzled, and then gives it to Reality.
Death drops in. Lust and Punishment react before he lands on the roof. When the dust settles, everyone shares information and plots revenge. Other than me, Electricity has the most control of his domain. We work out a way of clearing all the non-chancel humans using our powers. Lust, Punishment, and Death think that they can handle anything that is left-over. I would still prefer to know more before we go in.

Lust gets two black Escalades to drive to New Orleans, the nexus between the chancel and the real world. With Lust and Death driving, we arrive in just two hours. Electricity rides the wire down to the Big Easy. I love New Orleans. It is so warm and moist, with all those convenient swamps. The buildings are very friendly and funky too.

We position ourselves and brace for combat, enter the chancel, and find it empty of Inquisitors. Guilt and Reality determine that they left about two hours ago. They did not leave any nasty surprises behind. Reality’s witch-hunt rite determines that the Bronze man’s, Sacrifice, created a gate using chancel inhabitants for the sacrifice. He gated to his own chancel. We decide not to follow.

Inspecting the chancel we find some damage and carnage, but not total destruction. The heart is still intact. Everyone belongings have been riffled. My own underground quarters escaped detection. I search out Moonbeam to see how she is coming with the memory rite.

(21-Jun-03)

We, the lost children of (the traitor?) Amaciel, sat upon the roof and planned. We awaited the return of Reality in order to summon Death.

Could we get assets from out of the Chancel? Would the Chancel aid those of us injured in healing? Guilt knew how to get to the heart of the Chancel, but the enemy still held all but that heart, and we were as yet too weak.

The others tried to coordinate their attempts to discover what other Anchors they had. Fungus, in particular, seemed to know folks.

I sat things out, watching our perimeter. I knew I was not sociable now. It seemed I had not been previously, either. I damned the amnesia that still robbed me of my memories, even as I recalled Imaginations exhortations to try to find different paths to walk.

Electricity raised the issue of Lust. We knew she was not the Lust who had been part of Amaciel's family before his death. How did she become Lust? Could we trust her? Was she part of our group, our family? (No, I thought. And, no.)

Lust countered that the Brass Man had thought her a part of the group, that she had a shard of our dead Imperator within her.

Fine. But I would not trust her. Even if she was one of the injured, and wanted to rest to heal her wounds.

Fungus gave Hank some psychotropic mushrooms to sell to gather some money. We would use the money to buy guns. There, at least, was something I could do. I knew guns ...

The conversation turned back to Anchors, and the Chancel. Those who had the former inside the latter reported that there was minor damage there, the streets showing sign of skirmishing and deserted. In the "Heart" the Imperator's "icon" was toppled, but intact. Folks were being held in warehouses, guarded by SWAT-style troops.

The gargoyles there (!) were not in custody, but simply standing very, very still.

Reality arrived at that point, an older woman. We began to be introduced when --

-- well, it sounds like a penny dreadful to say it, but Death came upon us. Literally, leaping in, becloaked to the rooftop, dropping in the middle of us all, both Lust and myself instantly at the ready for him.

His entrance, though melodramatic, did not herald any hostilities, however. He was dark of mien and mood, though. Upon introductions, he glowered at us. "So, ave you guys been sitting here this whole time without a plan?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Our plan was to wait for you." That quieted him a moment.

Lust summarized the situation. A wronged party and a group of Inquisitors had killed our Imperator. The nobles of Lost Things and Eternity, with others, were among our foes. And, still confusingly, we ought to have been dead, upon our Imperator's death.

Electricity said that he had an Anchor working for the FBI who would provide us with firearms in the morning. That was good. The FBI would have good weapons, and if Electricity had one of their officials as an Anchor, there were a lot of other things the US Feds were good at that we could draw on.

Electricity also mentioned that, when he and Lust had been fighting the Bronze Man, the Power of Cities had gotten torqued and driven them here. He added that he had an Anchor in the Chancel as well, locked up.

Death reported an encounter with the Baron of Blades -- an "inconsequential" meeting. He also said that he could get us into and out of the Chancel. That would be useful.

I reported on my own encounters. "I met the Power of Imagination."

Lust spoke up, "Wow, I'll bet we'd have a lot in common!"

I turned a cold eye to her, and shook my head. "She seemed a very nice person." I went on to say that Imagination had wanted to help us, since this was an opportunity for us to break out of long-set patterns. I shrugged. "I'm not altogether sure what she meant by that."

Lust said something snarky. And then --

-- well, it is not something a gentleman would talk of, but I've not been a gentleman for over a century. Which, in its own way made matters, ah, worse.

She propositioned me, to put it in as kindly, yet bald, a fashion as possible.

"If that would help relieve some tension," she added.

"No. Thank. You." I tried to make it as clear as possible, in those three words, that the suggestion was not only unwelcome, but would be met with far great retribution were it repeated.

She shrugged.

Fungus told us it had an Anchor in the Chancel that was working on a rite to restore our memory. Was there anything we could do to assist?

Death told Hank his date of death. Hank blanched.

Reality gave us her summary. She named us all demi-gods (that was already clear in implication, but alarming to hear in person. Me? A Hercules? She also repeated that we should all be dead. Amaciel had been, she was told, in the process of destroying another Chancel (Lust piped up that she'd heard the same from Lost Things). We, in turn, might have been involved in that crime, which is why our memories were lost. Reality had acted to bring us all together to discuss further actions.

The oddities (among all others) were these. First, as noted, we were still alive, and still had our powers. That meant the Shards of our Imperator were still within us.

Second, the accusation against the Amaciel had been that he had been cutting off sections of another Chancel, locking them into a timeless void, and then sucking off their power. It had been going on for a couple of years. It just didn't make any sense.

Death asked how Amaciel had been tried. How was this truth established. The trials, it seemed, were "guilty until proven innocent." The Power of Truth, if such exists, was not involved. Once they had figured out what was going on to the Chancel in question, it has been clear who.

I wondered. Could it be that Amaciel was alive, somehow? That would explain why we will lived. Something big, though, had happened -- our lack of memory and (I knew, though could not say how I knew) lack of immortality showed that.

Who was arrayed against us? Lost Things, and Eternity, we heard (Electricity opined that the latter was sincere in his accusation). They were of the timeless void? The details were muddled. There were also Jealously and Loyalty.

The Locust Court had been the site of the trial. It was useful as such a thing. It was a Chancel, which Lord Entropy used as a court.

"We need to get our memories back, and investigate this," I said.

Death spoke up. "Do you think returning to our Chancel --"

"-- would get us killed really quickly?" I finished for him. "Yes."

Electricity suggested that I contact Imagination to find out who had fingered Amaciel. Death rejected the idea that we might look for allies (nobody, it seems, would want to cross Lord Entropy). Electricity shrugged, and planned to pick up some flowers at a shop in Los Angeles.

The plan, then, as we developed it, was, firstly, to restore our memories. The rite being researched might help. There might be a Power of Memory that could assist. Or perhaps Death's journal would be of help.

Secondly, we must determine the truth of the accusations against Amaciel. Nobody who had recovered their memory, or else never lost it (Guilt, Fungus, Reality?) knew aught of such a plot. Was that proof of anything?

Nonetheless, we must determine the truth, for if we were justly accused, and justly convicted, even if only in association with our Imperator, then we deserved what punishment was to be meted out. I considered myself a just person, and guilt by association was a slippery slope, I well knew. Still, the Shards we bore were more than mere "association."

And if any of my brethren disagreed with that judgment, and were not, in the end, if guilty, willing to turn themselves in -- I might need to take my own steps to see that all were punished justly.

Turning to lighter thoughts, in consideration of an attack on our Chancel, we determined that we were justified to kill mortals who had invaded it -- and Nobles, too. But that, again, depended on whether we were just in our cause.

I contacted Imagination, using the poppy she'd given me. She seemed pleased to hear from me. She was a pleasant enough person all-around, I noted.

"How are things going?"

"As well as can be expected."

"You need to expect more. You need to broaden your horizons."

I shrugged. "I'm trying to -- watch out for old patterns."

She smiled, approvingly. After a brief interchange of pleasantries, I asked her, "What can you tell me about our Imperator and the case against him?"

She related that it had been found someone was parasitizing off another Chancel to strengthen himself. They thought they knew who it was, and brought in the Inquisitors. Imagination knew they'd had some evidence, but had no idea of what it was.

"Use your imagination," I suggested, hoping she would appreciate the joke. She didn't. I felt oddly disappointed.

Could the Inquisition have been driven by malice, rather than justice? Imagination didn't think so. "They're all right."

Then could the Imperator have been framed? She didn't think he had any enemies.

Jealousy? Who benefited by our Imperator being eliminated. Again, she characterized us as a second-tier Chancel -- useful in the War, but not overly intimidating. Might the other family have been behind it? No, she didn't think so -- they'd been hurt, too. It didn't make sense.

"By the way, your friend, Death? Tell him all the stuff I've told you. He needs to cut loose now and then -- but in a good way."

I wouldn't care to be around when Death cut loose, but I told her I'd see what I could do.

Fungus, who was following along my part of the conversation, asked me to inquire if Imagination had any idea what neutral we might consult who is tied into the political scene.

"I really don't know --"

"Use your imagination," I tried again.

This time her eyes lit up. "Hey, that's funny."

I was pleased. I'd once had a sense of humor, quite a dry wit I was told. It had even gotten me into trouble a few times. I hadn't used it much lately -- hmmmm ... lately meaning in some decades.

I gave my farewells to Imagination.

The others prepared to contact Idding St Germaine, the Power of Bureaucracy, to get more information, while I made plans for our trip south. We'd determined that the Chancel lay contingent to New Orleans, so we had to travel there from Chicago.

Lust suggested a big mini-van, but nobody thought that was a good idea. Instead, we obtained two black Suburbans. Lust drove one, with Fungus and Reality with her; Death did the driving in the vehicle with myself and Guilt. Electricity could travel there on his own.

It took us about three hours, in the middle of the night, lending our Aspect to the Suburbans.

But after we'd arranged for a diabolical means of eliminating the opposition -- drawing on both Fungus' and Electricity's powers -- we heard back from Gwen, one of the Anchors there. She was free. The opposition was gone, as of about an hour earlier. Guilt performed a Major Divination and confirmed that there was indeed no threats reaming there.

We went in. The Chancel was -- odd. A city with design overtones similar to my own London of Victoria's age. But different. Strange technologies were evident. And indeed there gargoyles, flying about in the sky now, a strange -- yet strangely familiar -- sight.

Guilt traced the magic involved in the troop, and it led back to the Bronze Man (the Power of Sacrifice). He had sacrificed some of the people there to create the gate away, though, and that I would not forgive. That there had been some killed during resistance to the occupation -- but that was just, and no war crimes had been involved. But to sacrifice our people to power their getaway ...

But we could not pursue him, not now. Chasing a bear into its own cave was not helpful, and one should never try to beard an Imperator in its own den.

So, there we were, back in our Chancel. Why had they abandoned it? They had not found the Heart. No reason had been given.

I went to my quarters, in the top floor of a swooping tower. They overlooked much of the city below, but they were spartan, spare. I knew I'd never spent much time there, having -- things to do of my own.

Spartan. Spare. That had been much of my life. And, like my life, the rooms had been gone through and examined. Not ransacked, but searched. The parlor. The bedroom. The practice room.

I pulled off my coat, and began to practice some moves. What, I wondered, would we do next?

I have emptied my bottle of Scotch, Luckily for us "Reality" has arrived. I am not sure if the WHORE has picked up on this subtle bit of irony yet.

I talked to Hank about being better prepared in the Future. It didn't improve Hank's hospitality, but I did feel better

Electro-boy seems to be a bit over amped right now, and is just throwing out all sorts of ideas…mostly about guns. Getting guns, Buying guns, and of course, using guns. And I thought that Latex-girl had a Phallic/gun fetish.

Reality, who introduces herself to us as June, has come over to sit with Fungus and myself. June starts to talk to me about the Chancel. I know that this word Chancel. Or maybe it is more of a concept. June begins to explain to me that the Chancel is our real Home. She goes on about something called the "mythic Realm", and that I am the only one that can see the "Heart". Again, none of this makes any sense, but I feel that it is correct. Something in me is reaching out to a great unknown.

June spends several minutes with me to try and get me to focus on the Chancel while the others have a date with death (and me with nothing to wear…).

Shortly after the other Hog-tie death, I am able to start "feeling" the Chancel. It is safe, damaged, but safe. The Heart is undisturbed, though a statue of some sort has fallen over. I continue on in my search of this bizarre dreamscape and find that it is empty of attackers. Electro-boy is puzzled by this bit of info, but happy. Must work on that. It would have been better if he had ended up Puzzled and depressed.

While I was out, the others have decided on a road trip to the big easy. Somehow I think that this was just some sort of a clever ruse on the WHORE's part to increase her bead collection.

The trip was uneventful over all, but I was able to convince a local Police officer to take better care of his "Yard Children".

Sigh…You do what you can to bring a little gloom into other's lives.

CHRYSALIS

Session 3 – Say It With Flowers

Our Heroes – Donner, June, Macy, Mariska, Sian and The Graf – lounged about the roof swilling booze and brainstorming, or at least braindrizzling. Further information and speculation were exchanged but no one came up with a viable plan for taking their “chancel” back. Macy pretended to sleep.

Donner brought up the fact that Lust – Macy – seemed to have killed the old one and taken his power. Also that, looking at the corpse, he hadn’t much cared, and that their enemies were sure as hell after her too. He contacted his other Anchor, the FBI guy, and arranged for guns to be given them tomorrow out of the local office.

Macy took off and acquired some money and new clothes from the Frederick’s of Hollywood Working Girl Collection. A local, rich 'entrepeneur' might walk normally again within two or three days, but the smile would take longer to fade.

Our other Hero, Terminus, fights Czerny, the Power of Knives, in hyperkinetic Noble buttkicker fashion all over the front steps and rooftop of his (our?) Chancel’s museum. Czerny had vanished Death’s favorite broadsword and Terminus' attempts to un-vanish it did not work. He had to get replacements, but when you're standing over the Ancient Cultures section of a museum, a pair of zweihanders are easy to find. He got to use them right away to block a veritable storm of knives hurled by Czerny.

After a bit of exchanged verbiage, Czerny kicks a couple of support columns down within the museum (some of the bits aimed at Terminus) and runs the other way as the west wing of the museum collapses.

A voice speaks out of the growing cloud of dust, offering to take Terminus to the other people he knew. Terminus accepts and shortly later walks out into a Chicago sewer. Goose, the Power of Evasion, filled Terminus in on the basic situation. By way of explanation of his involvement, he did this for the purest of motives, a desire to stick it to Lord Entropy, the leader of the forces arrayed against them (the leader of pretty much everything, apparently). Goose said he’d be hard to find or contact, later. Terminus said he’d try hard not to. Goose paused for a second and allowed that that might actually work. He also mentions that Terminus – that their kind – weren’t allowed to kill or madden mortals for no reason; and that they didn’t need more trouble than they had already.

June, Dame Reality, kept on trying to get some useful information out of Jealousy, but Jealousy won't answer her most important question, Did Amaciel do it? Wouldn’t even interrupt her rant.

June notices three more Nobles looking into the store and moving inside. She pockets the Altoids.

“It’s OK, dear.” June pats one of Jealousy's white-knuckled hands, steps away and massively increases and reinforces the reality of the Mazelike quality of the aisles, and the quality of Unfindability within the 'convenience' store. She called Hank.

Back in Chicago, Hank stiffens, pulls out a shot glass and poured whiskey into it. He sets the glass down saying, “This better be here when I get back!” and turns away. June is suddenly there, grabbing the shot glass and downing it. Coughed. June officially has the best summoning ritual.

Macy handed June a wad of money. She’d been looking for someone trustworthy, and the Graf wouldn’t take it – something about rotting the paper.

Donner, to June: “She’s the new Lust. The old one got killed in a wingback chair and his heart cut out. I hear you know more about what’s going on than the rest of us.”

Meanwhile, Terminus watches and listenes from a nearby rooftop, having been delivered there by the now-absent Goose.

Information exchange, yadda, yadda, yadda. Terminus launches himself over to the crowded roof and lands with two people, Sian and Macy, ready to rumble. They manage to not go all Marvel on each other and gradually settle down. More yadda. Interestingly, Amaciel was supposed to have attacked the other Chancel by casting parts of it into a timeless void and then drawing off the energy of the excised portion. Amaciel was not rich in Timeless Void type powers.

The Powers from the damaged ('wronged') Chancel are Lost Things, Eternity, Jealousy and Loyalty, which makes people wonder if Eternity is screwing his own people over somehow.

Terminus wants to find the 'demigod' of Truth. June points out that, sadly, Truth isn’t a concept with much interest in it, so it's possible there isn't even a power in charge of it at this time... certainly, she's never met them.

Sian flower-talks to Imagination for ideas. Maybe the Power of Conspiracy (one of the Inquisitors assigned to prosecute this case) is trying to look good?

Donner goes out for flowers. WAY out, to Los Angeles, just in case the local shops are monitored.

They settle upon the direct, brute force approach of Chancel Recovery. Pick up guns and go to New Orleans in the morning. Donner and the Graf knock themselves out with mega-miracles, electrocuting all the unfriendlies in the upper levels through Donner’s anchor Gwen and choking/poisoning all those in the lower levels through The Graf’s anchor. That would leave only enemy Anchors and Powers alive (in theory). Then Sian, Terminus and Macy would move in and finalize things in Aspect fashion. Guilt would direct the clean up and June would disapprove of all the violence.

They got cars, FBI-compatible clothing, the weapons and got to New Orleans an hour and a half later. High Aspect Driving Miracles are Scary.

Slaughterus Interruptus: the bad guys left before we arrive. The Bronze Man made a big Gate and everyone split. Mariska determines that they really had gone and not left any little presents behind like bombs or poison. Some of Our Heroes were very disappointed, but the Chancel is back in the right hands, so it's time for Stage Two: Getting Our Damn Memory Back.

The Dies Irae is a Latin poem to be read during the Mass of All Souls and at Funeral Masses. More information can be found here and here.

Dave: The plan is to wait until Reality returns, then summon Death.
HG: Man, that's deep.

HG: Guilt is the only way to get to the Heart of the Chancel.
Dave: Man, that's deep.

HG: So over time, Electricity become outmoded.
Dave: You need to stay well-grounded, man.
Randy: It's a dynamic situation.
Dave: Just be sure you stay current.
Randy: Yeah, stay plugged into things. Don't want to lose my spark.

Lust: I give her a butt-load of money.
Margie: And that's how she got it.

Punishment: I met the Power of Imagination.
Lust: Wow, I'll bet we'd have a lot in common.
Punishment: No, she seemed like a very nice person.

HG: That seems to you unnecessarily zealous.
Punishment: "Unnecessarily zealous"? What is this language with which you speak?

HG: You're taking two cars.
Jackie: We can take a mini-van!
HG: Yeah, the Mini-van of the Apocalypse. Take two cars.

Dave: "Lust vs. Sacrifice! This Time ... It's Personal!"