Endings. Beginnings.

Michael
Previously:

Between Alice's nighttime adventures and his own attempts to curtail them Michael has not been to the hotel to do much more than change his clothes and shower in the days following Farrah's death. The girls have had the place to themselves.

After they both returned from their collective nights out it seemed as if they were going to continue enjoying the fruits of normal young adulthood. Then Mike rolled into the room with his hair disheveled and his clothes drenched in blood. It was his blood.

So what had happened was that Kiara managed to bring Alice to terms with her death and the damage she had done after. The Artist found this a boring turn of events and forced the Verbena's hand. She stripped Alice of her essence and sent her back to the Shadowlands. She had also left her athame on the table inside the magic circle with Mike and the Artist.

The Artist compelled him to put the ritual knife in his right upper quadrant and called it a day.

"To be quite frank," he said, "I've had about enough of this."

---

They have had an argument. Mike typically exercises sound judgment when he has not been ignoring his physical needs. River can attest to the fact that he has been ignoring his physical needs. Ihsan has no qualms with telling him that keeping a Nephandus Adept hostage until they can find a way to gilgul zir avatar is a terrible idea and they should just kill zir and deal with the reincarnation when it happens.

Mike is still quite cross with River and the car ride is not the typical assault of random trivia and philosophical rambling that riding with Mike tends to be. He keeps the driver's side window cracked even though the temperatures threaten to drop below freezing and doesn't speak unless spoken to.

He is not like a man possessed. River has seen him when he's possessed. He is focused though. This is not going to be an easy task.

Now they are at an abandoned warehouse somewhere in the south of Colorado. Almost near the New Mexico border but not near enough to do either side any good. Michael is standing at a dusty table waiting for the girls to give him the weapons they would like enchanted.

Ihsan Ghali
Last night Ihsan had buggered off soon after finishing her first drink.  A series of text messages had lured her away.  If asked where she was off to, Ihsan would just smirk and wink and explain herself as she walked backward toward the door, arms open.

"A woman has needs to be tended."

The classiest of women, indeed, she left the gaggle of Mages in search of an encounter more... stimulating.

It was around the midnight hour that Ihsan finally got herself back through the hotel room door.  She was recently out of the shower, hair still wet and being toweled down, when Michael arrived with the blood on his shirt and the plan on the table:  let's lure The Artist to us and get this taken care of once and for all.

---------------

Once and for all.  That as the argument that Mike was trying to make before they left the next day.  Ihsan stood firmly against it, planted in the middle of the room with her brow heavy and her voice sharp.  Every so often a bit of Arabic would slip into her sentences, for she spoke quickly and with passion.

"And how do you plan on keeping her subdued?  You'll be dead in the desert and then she'll come to pick us two off like flies."

Eventually Ihsan won out.  She was good at getting her way.  Soon they were headed to some warehouse that had been scoped out as an ideal spot on somebody's phone or laptop.  Ihsan had checked her messenger bag to make sure everything she thought she may need was still in place.  Scowled and got rid of two plastic cannisters (intended to house camera film, back when that was a thing) that would be left on the window ledge.  That and her staff were both tucked into the trunk of the car for the drive.

When they finally arrived, Ihsan scoped out the warehouse for a good place to settle in and work her Magick.  She wore a hard and serious face, but still grinned darkly when she passed her staff off to Michael.  "Make it do something nasty," she requested.

River Vasquez
River understands that being prepared is absolutely paramount to being effective. She understands that she has limitations and that she has a number of places in which she could improve. She’s nowhere near being a master (though she’s come pretty close a couple times that she can recall). She’s not a dead shot (though occasionally her aim is on and she knows it’s more than stupid luck) She’s not a lot of things, but what River Vasquez happens to be is practiced. She’s dedicated. The young woman wakes up in the morning and goes through every motion that she knows and every skill that she has deigned needed mastering and works on it. Has made the effort to know herself and her limitations and her hang ups.

She knows there’s going to be a fuck ton of blood and possible viscera. River’s doing anything and everything in her power to assure that it won’t belong to someone she actually knows.

—

(first)

She’s straightened herself out and cleared a tiny bit of space and she turns, regards Ihsan and asks-

“Do you know how to tango?”

River is not being sentimental, and if allowed the ballroom dance lesson takes some time, consists of patterns and understanding the anticipation of movement. River can actually lead pretty damn well when it’s all programmed into muscle memory. She Works. There’s things to do.

[action! Entropy 2 (Snafu).]

—-

(second)

Once all dancing is done she quietly excused herself to the ladies room and does not emerge for some time. Doesn’t say a word while she’s in there, just stands and seems to have an internal debate and a staring contest with herself. Her breathing is slow and methodical. She’s content to be in there awhile, but the mirror is all she needs.

[Mind 2: Projecting calm!]

(then)

[Mind wards all up in this bitch, because fuck being the weak link with a person who can brain punch your badass mentor]

—

Eventually it comes down to a long car ride, and she’s miles away while while she’s there. Let it be said that she certainly hasn’t been distracted for most of this. River gets out of the car and takes in the warehouse for what it is, inhales slow and deep and feels the dust in the air the tension. It’s all wound tight; she’s fine to work here. The young woman handed over her handgun and waited.

Not a word.

[Aaaaaand rolling past lives because why the fuck not?]

River Vasquez
[Entropy 2- Snafu- AKA: How do we make hurting Ihsan sound like a bad idea?

Diff 3+2 (sphere)= 5 - 1 (taking time) = diff 4]

Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (5, 7) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

River Vasquez
[And the rest of this is going to duration, -1 quint. Extending]

Dice: 2 d10 TN5 (4, 10) ( success x 1 )

River Vasquez
[2nd extension]

Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (3, 10) ( success x 1 )

River Vasquez
[3rd extension]

Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (4, 7) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

River Vasquez
[Set 2: Mind 2 (Projecting calm)

Diff 3 + 2 (sphere) = 5 -1 (taking time) -1 (because this is a specialized focus, believe it or not)]

Dice: 2 d10 TN3 (7, 9) ( success x 2 )

River Vasquez
[Extension 1 (I'm calm as fuck)]

Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (5, 8) ( success x 2 )

River Vasquez
[Extension 2: Seriously, so fucking calm]

Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (1, 7) ( success x 1 )

River Vasquez
[Mind 1: Stay off my lawn!

Diff 3 +1 (sphere) = diff 4 - 1 (taking time) = 3]

Dice: 2 d10 TN3 (5, 8) ( success x 2 )

River Vasquez
[Extension 1: Trust me, you don't wanna go in there]

Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (2, 5) ( success x 1 )

River Vasquez
[Extension 2: Her brain is full of unicorns]

Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (6, 9) ( success x 2 )

River Vasquez
[Extension 3: And puppies. Really, not the place a proper nephandus wants to visit]

Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (3, 4) ( success x 1 )

River Vasquez
[Extension 4: Waiting for my reflection to blink first]

Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (2, 6) ( success x 1 )

River Vasquez
[AND FREAKING FINALLY: Past lives 3]

Dice: 3 d10 TN8 (1, 5, 9) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

Michael
[life 3/forces 2: making the staff do something nasty. -1 diff for using an instrument when it isn't necessary, -1 for time-taking.]

Dice: 4 d10 TN4 (2, 5, 7, 9) ( success x 4 ) [WP]

Michael
Both of these young women are braver than they likely give themselves credit for. They both have a strong sense of self-preservation and they look out for their former mentor as much as they look out for their own well-being.

When Ihsan asks him to make her staff do something nasty the first smile of the night makes its appearance. It's rare that Mike is in a grim mood. Tonight is one of those nights. But he gives Ihsan a lop-sided grin and takes the staff from her.

"Yes, ma'am," he says. Lays it out on the table and takes a small piece of black paper out of the inside pocket of his blazer. He does not need to do this anymore but it makes it easier. Burns the paper with a lighter he only uses for ritual and lets the paper go to ash. Takes up the ash in his palm and closes his eyes and lets the ash fall like gray snow down on the staff.

When the ritual is finished the staff hums with elemental energy. He opens his eyes and blows out a breath he had been holding and passes the staff back to her.

"It may or may not set zir on fire when you hit zir."

Ihsan Ghali
River had done her prep for this encounter while still in the hotel room.  Michael was working on enchantments to help make the trio more threatening and potent against the nephandus.  Ihsan's magick was something that required making a bit of a mess, so she'd reserved it for the cracked and dusty cement floor inside the warehouse.

While Michael had worked, Ihsan had placed herself somewhere within the vast expanse of what used to be the operations floor where they stood.  She shrugged her messenger bag from her shoulder and knelt down to dig around and find what she'd need.

A cloth pouch with a drawstring was loosened at the mouth, and Ihsan poured a slow trail of what appeared to be powdered galaxy (loose powder of dark purple and mixed blue) into a circle on the floor.  Within that circle, at certain points, were smaller designs in salt, which Ihsan crushed further in her fists, positively pulverizing it before making small white triangles and squares and circles within her circle of dye.  Then, in the very center, she burned a small bundle of dried herbs bound together.  Smelled like sage.

When Michael passed her staff back Ihsan was on her knees in front of the circle, the sleeves of her red flannel shirt rolled up to her elbows and her black leather jacket laid aside on the ground.  He advised that her enemy may catch flame when struck, and a toothy sharp smile spread across her face.  "You're beautiful," she laid praise upon him as she laid the staff on the floor, not wanting to risk its enchantment by using it in a ritual so soon after its blessing.

Instead she flexed her fingers, then leaned forward and dipped her fingertips into the outer line of powder dye.  Arms stretched, shoulder blades curved up with how she was positioned, she looked almost as though she were praying to some faraway holy site while closing her eyes to pull Magick forward from the other realms.

[Rolls for Summoning incoming!]

Ihsan Ghali
[Spirit 2 + Prime 2: Summoning Crow!  -3 multiple instruments, spending WP]

Dice: 2 d10 TN3 (5, 9) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

Ihsan Ghali
[Extending!  +1 diff]

Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (5, 10) ( success x 2 )

Ihsan Ghali
[And again!]

Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (3, 4) ( success x 1 )

Ihsan Ghali
[ONE MORE TIME WITH FEELING]

Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (9, 10) ( success x 2 )

Michael
[corr 2: scrying. modifiers go here.]

Dice: 4 d10 TN3 (2, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )

Michael
[!!!]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 5, 5, 6, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )

Michael
It takes the better part of an hour for Ihsan to part the barrier between worlds and call forth a spirit in the hopes of negotiating with it. In that hour River negotiates with herself in the bathroom. Mike finishes enchanting the staff and then sets about beginning the difficult and dangerous part of this plan.

He has to reach out across space and pull the Artist through a rift. This is a vulgar ritual. It is also not guaranteed to work. If it does not work the Artist will know what they're doing. They will have to fight zir across the distance separating them. Hope that ze does not do to them what ze did to Farrah.

This is why he has been of such dour countenance all night. Farrah is dead. He may be leading his other two former students to the same end. They do not have the luxury of inaction though. And if they fail the Awakened back in Denver are going to have to clean up his mess.

So he passes off the staff. Actually laughs when she calls him beautiful. Laughs and counters with a beaming Aw shucks grin before returning his attention to the task at hand.

As the gauntlet ripples and black wings flap Michael preps his own ritual. Removes a map of the southwest from his briefcase and unfurls it on the dusty table. Pricks the pad of his thumb with a pin and lets the bead of blood it brings forth drop onto the map. Over the 505 area code. Blood calls to blood. The Artist has developed something of a taste for his.

A pair of cold talons latch onto Ihsan's shoulder. The jaggling's feathers sheen like the ocean at night. Its eyes glint cold and intelligent and it caws. Ihsan can understand her.

Michael takes a steeling breath and smears the blood droplet between its landing place and theirs.

"The thought occurs to me now," he says without taking his eyes off the map, "that this might be the time to pass around the flask."

He does not break out the flask. He does however start to break a few laws of reality.

[corr 4: GET OVER HERE. modifiers go here. we who are about to die salute you.]

Dice: 4 d10 TN5 (5, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 5 ) [WP]

Michael
[countermagick tug of war time!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN7 (3, 3, 8, 8) ( success x 2 )

River Vasquez
River recognizes that she should be nervous.

She also recognizes that she is not nervous because she has gone through great pains to have a fairly unnatural reaction to this potential situation. There is a moment when she is standing there, having a moment where she’s trying to figure out when this is all going to fall back on her and she’s going to go hide and throw up or cry or do whatever it is that River does when things have been very much Not Okay and she’s had to operate like things are okay.

It’s a strange sensation, but it isn’t an unwelcome one. The awkward feeling of watching Ihsan and Mike interact doesn’t feel awkward it just feels like a moment she can observe and enjoy later. Something she logs away that brings half a smile across her face. She’s double-checking her firearm to make sure everything is loaded and in order. Partway through she is absolutely captivated watching Ihsan though.

Eyes wide, dark eyes bright and she’s sucked in with the artistry, the strength and the beauty and the power and the general visceral pull that comes with seeing her do what she does. in truth, River’s never seen this, and she recognizes this is the wrong time to be awestruck but Ihsan’s Work is beautiful in the way that volcanoes and hurricanes and other forces of nature are beautiful even though she doesn’t necessarily evoke those sorts of forces.

It occurs to Mike that now is about the time that you pass around the flask.

“You two will have time to do it later,” she says, insists like it’s a vote of confidence, and she is a resolute creature. This is what will be, not because she said so but because it’s a fact. Mike and Ihsan are going to walk out of this, have time to recap. This is going to work. The smile she wears is brief, stolen, and tucked away once again. There is magic taking place and the next thought River has is how tall are you?

She approximates about where she thinks center mass will be and waits. River can be pretty damn patient if she needs to be, and she’d have to be out of her mind to think this wasn’t going to be anything other than something that requires patience.

Ihsan Ghali
Ihsan felt no sense of modesty about her magick.  Some people felt it was a private thing, an art, something personal and sacred that connected them to whatever Higher or Greater Something that gave them the powers they could wield.  Ihsan felt no real sense of privacy about it, but that took the art away no less.  Her circles were precise, the choice of powder dye and salts intentional.  Her posture as she stretched herself forward was downright feline, and the strength of will and dedication as she focused and summoned kept her still for nearly an hour.  She moved only a few times, to wriggle toes that were falling asleep inside her boots or to roll her head around on her neck when it felt stiff.  Fingertips never left the edge of the circle.

After a long time of concentrating, with no movement or sound breaking her away from the task at hand, the smoke in the center of the circle began to swirl with more structure, purposefully upward into a slow-moving cyclone.  The dyes and salts began to burn and crackle and sizzle as well, and smoke from the burning of the circle into the floor began to join with the sage that burned as well.

Finally, after all her hard work, the sound of wings beat at the air and a sensation of reality ripping shuddered and cracked through the warehouse space.  With sweat on her brow and steam rising from her back as well, Ihsan finally straightened up with a low groan of effort.

Feeling the grasp of talons on her shoulder, Ihsan glanced to the Crow that had taken its place there, successfully summoned to manifest itself on the Side of Life and Reality.  She smiled, satisfied with her own success, and reached up to smooth fingers over the bird's head and neck with praise.  Good job, both of us.

The flask came her way and Ihsan stood to accept it.  She tossed her head back to swig some, offered a bit to the Crow on her shoulder (who no doubt turned its beak in denial-- there were better things to consume than a human's fermented firewater).

"No better time than the present," Ihsan expressed and raised her eyebrows at River and offered the flask to her.  No, River was busy trying to find the spot where the Artist would arrive.  Michael was busy trying to haul the Artist to them.  Ihsan tucked the flask into the back pocket of her pants and reached down to grab two things:  the smoldering sage bundle and her staff.

The staff was gripped firmly with her right hand, the butt of it rested on the floor.  The sage bundle she waved gently in front of her, wafting the smoke up before her and the Crow's faces.  When she spoke through the smoke, her words were neither English nor Arabic-- she was speaking for Crow's spirit ears only.

[Spirit, you would like to help me, yes?  Manipulation 4 (Wily Specialty) + Subterfuge 6, spending WP]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 6, 6, 7) ( success x 4 ) [WP]

Ihsan Ghali
[I meant Subterfuge 2, but you know what I mean.]

Michael
[we need 10 successes to make this happen come on mike.]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 5, 6, 8) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

Michael
[lol ok]

Dice: 4 d10 TN7 (6, 6, 6, 9) ( success x 1 )

Michael
[five more!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )

Michael
[lol part 2: electric boogaloo]

Dice: 4 d10 TN7 (1, 4, 5, 9) ( success x 1 )

Michael
[four more!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 9, 9, 9) ( success x 3 )

Michael
[lol part 3: the nephandus strikes back]

Dice: 4 d10 TN7 (1, 6, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )

Michael
[three more!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 6, 6, 10) ( success x 3 )

Michael
[lol part 4: fuck your transcripts]

Dice: 4 d10 TN7 (1, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )

Michael
-_-

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (5, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )

Michael
:D

Dice: 4 d10 TN7 (3, 5, 9, 9) ( success x 2 )

Michael
[two more!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )

Michael
[mike you're so cute]

Dice: 4 d10 TN7 (2, 2, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )

Michael
-_-

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 10) ( success x 1 )

Michael
:DDDDD

Dice: 4 d10 TN7 (1, 1, 1, 6) ( botch x 3 )

Michael
[YEAH EAT IT BITCH *types*]

Michael
[oh right backlash is insta-roll if it's more than 5]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 5, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )

Michael
[soak it!]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 9) ( success x 1 )

Michael
[might as well roll stamina bc that took a long time while i'm rolling things diff = the effect's base diff]

Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (4, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )

Michael
[and a thing for a thing]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (4) ( fail )

Michael
[another thing for the same thing]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (3) ( fail )

Michael
[and one other thing]

Dice: 4 d10 TN5 (5, 7, 8, 8) ( success x 4 )

Michael
The jaggling cants her head when Ihsan begins to speak in the tongue of spirits. No lack of understanding in her gaze. She cracks her jaws to caw understanding. Caws agreement next.

Crows have an attraction to shiny things. They can carry what they catch across unfathomable distances. She blinks and ruffles her feathers and feasts on the offered quintessence.

And settles in to watch one of the most difficult rituals the summoner's former mentor has ever had to complete.

From across the distance the Nephandus recognizes an incoming attack and fights it. Not only does the Nephandus fight but ze fights hard. It appears as if Michael is staring intent down at the map he's unfurled. His blood begins to try and turn to rust on the path he'd traced with the pad of his thumb.

There is nothing either of them can do to help. The hand that does not well blood on the map braces itself on the table. Over an hour passes. The crow jaggling watches patient but not infinitely so and as the ritual goes on and the Artist continues zir fight an oily blackness starts to slide over the inside of the room. Like a slick across a body of water. Michael keeps his head bowed and breathes even but hard.

By the time the fight ends and a tear opens up between there and here he should be exhausted. He may be. He's drenched in sweat and out of breath but the appearance of the creature that has been delighting in his torment through numerous incarnations snaps his eyes up from the bloodied map. Backlash hits him at the same time her appearance does. He yanks his hand back from the map as if it's burned him. It hasn't burnt him. Reality snapping back on him did though.

The Artist has chosen the appearance of a thin yet gorgeous young--well. Ze prefers to move through the world androgynous. Hair dyed a rainbow of colors and piercings all through zir face. Eyes blue as a glacier and burning with interest and investment to see zir favorite toy has finally decided to face zir.

"Oh," ze says, "I'd begun to fear you'd never dare."

And then ze waves zir arm as if batting away a fly. The Initiates cannot see what exactly ze did but they see Michael's pallor go from his typical Anglo-American northern fairness to drained of blood. Then his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses in a heap on the floor.

Ze turns to see the other two. Backlash has had its way with zir. They can see it in the blood soaked into zir clothing. In the slash of red that stains zir teeth when ze cuts a sneering grin at them.

Ihsan Ghali
Much like the Crow on her shoulder, Ihsan's patience is long and steady, but it is not infinite.  River and Michael had patience with her while she reached out to make the union and agreement that she has with Crow tonight, though, so she was respectful and quiet and allowed Michael the focus he so clearly needed as he stood leaned over the map, focused and focused and straining and unfurling.

About forty minutes in Ihsan brought a small plastic bag of roasted almonds out of her messeenger bag.  Shared these with River and the Crow both.  This gave the image of an audience snacking while watching a show.

When the inky blackness crept into the warehouse, Ihsan took eventual notice.  Finally it occurred to her that the shadows didn't seem quite the same-- they were stretching further than they had before, seemed darker and less penetrable.  The further they slid, the less good humor there was in her face until she was as severe and focused on the task at hand as the other two.

Then, with a whipping of wind and unfurling of reality, a beautiful being of rainbow colors and metal accents in their face appeared.  They looked as though they downright wanted to be there.  Ihsan's grip on her staff tightened, but she wasn't given opportunity to do much before Magick pulsed through the air and seemingly severed the strings holding Michael upright, for he immediately crumpled to the ground like all of the life had been sucked out of him.

When the Nephandus turned to face her and River, Ihsan braced her body, feet and shoulders and all parts between, and grasped onto the staff with both hands now instead of just the one.

"Now's your time to shine, dear," she advised the Crow in that silky-slippery Spirit Speech, and then switched to her heavily accented English for River.  "Be braced."

[Init! + 6]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (7) ( success x 1 )

Michael
[CLOSE THAT TAG]

Ihsan Ghali
Crow
[Init! + WP 6]


Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (4) ( fail )

Michael
[oh right homie gets inits +7]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (3) ( fail )

River Vasquez
It isn’t out of disrespect to the gravity of the situation, but rather, from the knowledge that she hasn’t eaten anything today (because River doesn’t want to have anything in her stomach that she can revisit) and that this is a very bad idea. So! There are almonds. She looks briefly aside at Ihsan, drops her voice and asks “are these organic?”

Not that it would offend her otherwise, but she then clarifies, “these are really good.”

There is a problem with bestowing one’s self with an unnatural calm, and it comes with moments like these. She makes a note to ask later (if she lives through this) to find out where Ihsan bought these almonds because they really got the job done. It’s filed away as another one of the bizarre thoughts that have crossed her mind during this- a very tense and very grave situation.

The room starts to darken and her focus shifts, but not so much shifts as sharpens. It finds a place to focus and she focuses, her heart is beating steady and she takes it as something rhythmic. Something grounding. River inhales long and slow like this is meditation, like the outburst of violence and horror that is to come is just going to be part of a larger sequence. But there she is, straight and with her attentions renewed, holding her gun close and she doesn’t stand on her own, but rather, she’s standing with people who she has unwittingly stood with for lifetimes.

Then, Mike hits the ground and her attention pulls there. So when she looks back instead of the steady stream of emphatic no’s and curses that flicker past her consciousness when her mentor falls like a sack of Anglo-American potatoes, River feels one very deliberate thing.

“This is ending tonight.”

Dead set and firm. Resolute and radiant, like it isn’t just her will but Truth itself when she says it. This. Ends. Tonight.

River pulls back the safety, and aims for center mass.

[5+1d10]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (8) ( success x 1 )

Michael
If whatever ze had done had killed Mike outright that would have been a mercy. Ze does not do mercies. Zir art is pain and blood. The visceral horrors man cannot stand to face but must anyway because the same end comes to us all.

Mike hits the floor and he can neither move nor speak for the duration. He doesn't breathe for several seconds. Wind stolen from him same as whatever she stole from him that turned his skin the color of bone meal. As his former students stir to action he starts to gasp for air. It sounds as if the gulped-down air never reaches its destination. Cavernous breaths that announce the fact that he's dying but hasn't gotten around to it yet.

The crow was brought here for a single purpose. The Artist also. The Artist does not intend to fulfill zirs. The crow does.

[Crow: Spirit Away.

The Artist: Ah fuck it. Let's make a chimera out of these two.]

River Vasquez
Center.

Fucking.

Mass.

[Declare: 3 round burst for our artist friend]

Ihsan Ghali
[Declare:  Splitting actions to give two good whomps to the Artist with this assuredly nastily enchanted staff]

Ihsan Ghali
[Whomp 1: Dexterity 3 + Melee 2, -2 dice]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 7) ( success x 1 )

Ihsan Ghali
[Damage 1: 8 agg dice, for this is a nasty enchantment (thanks Mike!)]

Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 3, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 5 )

Ihsan Ghali
[And holding off on the second bop to give Crow a chance to whisk this asshole away]

Ihsan Ghali
Her reflexes weren't nearly so feline as the rest of her tended to be, but Ihsan was the fastest out of those present.  Intent flashed in the Artist's eyes, she felt Crow grip tighter at her shoulder in preparation to launch, and River had thumbed the safety off her gun.  Ihsan couldn't be bothered to wait for any of them.

Michael gasped agonally on the floor and with teeth bared and a shout of effort (battlecry), Ihsan put the enchantment he'd bestowed upon her staff to use.  Shouting, Ihsan came forward as though propelled and swung the staff like a baseball bat-- or a scythe.

The force with which Ihsan struck may as well have caused a shockwave to pass through the room on its own, but the effect that followed virtually did.  Ihsan's hit alone may have bruised or battered, but the Magick that it carried did so much more.  Life shattered, Magick flexed and bloomed and exploded, and the Artist's left arm and part of their left shoulder and chest ripped from their very being.


Blood sprayed in an arc, wet the front of Ihsan's clothes, and she stumbled half a step with her own momentum when stopping her arms from swinging the second-about double-tap that she was planning on.  With what almost sounded like desperation, hoping she was heard quickly enough, Ihsan threw out one arm and shouted into the dusty rafters:

"HOLD!"


Ihsan Ghali
Crow
[Dropping 25 Essence for Spirit Away]


Dice: 6 d10 TN7 (5, 5, 6, 8, 8, 8) ( success x 3 )

Michael
river

3rb!

Dice: 9 d10 TN7 (1, 4, 4, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8) ( success x 6 ) [WP]

Michael
[DAMAGE]

Dice: 9 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 5, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9) ( success x 6 )

Michael
[entropy 4/prime 3: you're not allowed to die on the floor. -1 die bc unnecessary instrument.]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 5) ( success x 1 ) [WP]

Michael
[god damn it michael]

Dice: 4 d10 TN7 (1, 2, 7, 9) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

Michael
No more than two minutes pass between the Artist's arrival and her dying on the same floor where Michael lies.

Ze turns towards the two Initiates and that grin is still on zir face even as Ihsan looses that war cry and rushes at zir. River's emotionless refusal to accept what has happened as reality and her readying the weapon. This is an amusing diversion and ze has not had much in the way of diversion lately. Long life and a body that will neither age nor die on its own have cursed zir with ennui.

Then Ihsan hits the Artist with a staff whose nastiness would have dissipated if the man who enchanted it had died at the moment he finally faced his tormenter. It takes zir arm off at the shoulder and takes part of zir chest with it. The shriek that ze looses is part rage and part ecstasy. Ice-hot eyes locked on the arc of red and gristle born of her body's exploding as it did and ze cannot keep to zir feet. Down on zir knees eyes locked on the floor made canvas blood made paint.

Though the jaggling flies at zir its talons just miss grabbing zir by the shoulder. Hard to grab something that is twitching and smoking several meters away. Another centimeter to the left and she would have found her mark. Once she has taken flight she has to keep going. The crow-spirit disappears through a slit in the gauntlet and continues on to the realm that would now house the Artist if she had managed to grab zir.

Perhaps Ihsan and she will meet again. In the meantime River readies her firing stance. Michael taught her how to shoot years ago. It was a slow lesson. River had an aversion to violence and the blood it brought but Mike was patient and kind and had a way of explaining things in a way that even a five-year-old could grasp. Why River needed to master a firearm was one of those things.

Center mass. River hits it. Blows it apart. If Mike were aware of anything other than how his own core feels as if it has become a black hole he might have felt a hint of pride underneath the displeasure he still has for his former student.

She was not the one who pulled the trigger on him last time. The night could have passed in such a way that she had to pull it on him this time.

It is Ihsan who goes to him this time. For the first time in her life she sees Mike afraid. Every useless breath he blows back out sprays black blood on the floor. He does not want either of them to come near him and as she comes near him anyway Ihsan can feel the inversion of his resonance and what the Artist did to him. That emptiness where his quintessence once was has become a dense mass pulling at the energy around him. In another few minutes he might have started to unmake the quintessence around him. Make everything start to decay. Ihsan feels the qlippothic mess made of his resonance which already feels like unraveling but she does not leave him there to die.

He lets himself be afraid for a moment and then he closes his eyes and presses his forehead into the pool of blood under him. At first he cannot catch the Artist's oily working in his own. Ihsan does not leave him. Maybe she urges him to try harder. He's dying. No one in this room wants him to die.

They know he isn't going to die when he hauls in a breath as if he has just had his head let up from underwater and rolls onto his back. Breathes fast and hard as if he had never appreciated air until this moment and locks his eyes onto Ihsan's face. Still bled of quintessence but alive. He takes her wrist in his hand and gives a shaky but sincere smile. Breathless still when he speaks but he has to speak eventually.

"Where's that flask?" he asks.

---

They have to do something with the body. Mike has a reverence for the ritual of laying a body to rest. They are going to have to find and wait for the widderslainte's reincarnation. It could happen tomorrow or a century from now. They don't know now but they have ways of knowing.

They make a fire out there in the desert and the wind takes the ashes. Mike is drenched in his own blood when he loads his briefcase into the trunk and gets behind the wheel. It's a long way back to Denver. They make the drive in silence.

---

Later that night they all return to the hotel together. No jockeying for a place in the bathroom. No disappearing into different halves of the suite. Ihsan steers River to one side of the queen-size bed. Steers Mike to the other. Climbs in between them.

Michael, at least, does not stir for the next two days. The only thing that would have roused him was the end of the world and now he knows he can rely on his surviving students to fight that off. He does not rouse.