Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
"If you lose," he grins. "The black queen dies."
A Flat Circle - Roland
- Thread starter Grey
- Start date
JayTee
Eight Thousand Club
Instinct, born of evolution, honed by the deadly life of the criminal underground, screamed at him to refuse. To get up and walk away from this whole situation and avoid entangling himself further in whatever chicanery was going on here.
Another instinct, deeper than pure survival, compelled him to agree, to accept. Something about this whole situation spoke to him, resonating on a level he didn't think existed.
"...What are you?" He asked, sitting down at the chess board without realizing it.
Another instinct, deeper than pure survival, compelled him to agree, to accept. Something about this whole situation spoke to him, resonating on a level he didn't think existed.
"...What are you?" He asked, sitting down at the chess board without realizing it.
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
He makes more space around the board, moving cups and plates further aside. He touches each black piece in turn - Patchy, her flunkies, her security. The white pieces are a collection of SWAT members, it looks like.
Patchy and her clerks, you guess, are in the back room area. There are two white pieces near the back door, and one entering the front with two others at his back. Four black pieces, security guards, are in the corners of the main room. The patrons are there, too - blue pieces, like little pillars.
"I am every hunting thing and the teeth in every trap," he says, calmly, eyes half-lidded. "I am the wolf in the forest, and the detective on the street, and the gun the back of a traitor...."
He smiles, and his teeth are yellowing fangs.
"Your move."
It seems you're playing white.
Patchy and her clerks, you guess, are in the back room area. There are two white pieces near the back door, and one entering the front with two others at his back. Four black pieces, security guards, are in the corners of the main room. The patrons are there, too - blue pieces, like little pillars.
"I am every hunting thing and the teeth in every trap," he says, calmly, eyes half-lidded. "I am the wolf in the forest, and the detective on the street, and the gun the back of a traitor...."
He smiles, and his teeth are yellowing fangs.
"Your move."
It seems you're playing white.
JayTee
Eight Thousand Club
Shit. Shit shit shit shit.
"I'm in over my head, aren't I?" Roland asked as studied the chess board a moment. He had played chess off and on for fun, but even then it had been against an equal novice. However, he knew the rules well enough to know that controlling territory was much more important than capturing pieces.
Still, this wasn't your ordinary chess game. The board was different, obviously, and there were obstacles that barred the passage of a piece. Fuck it, in for a penny, in for a pound. "Any special rules, before we get started?" He asked.
"I'm in over my head, aren't I?" Roland asked as studied the chess board a moment. He had played chess off and on for fun, but even then it had been against an equal novice. However, he knew the rules well enough to know that controlling territory was much more important than capturing pieces.
Still, this wasn't your ordinary chess game. The board was different, obviously, and there were obstacles that barred the passage of a piece. Fuck it, in for a penny, in for a pound. "Any special rules, before we get started?" He asked.
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Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
He spreads his hands.
"These are all pawns, except the queens. But your pawns..." he pauses, pointing.
The little agents have little guns.
"Only need to see their target."
"These are all pawns, except the queens. But your pawns..." he pauses, pointing.
The little agents have little guns.
"Only need to see their target."
JayTee
Eight Thousand Club
"Right. Of course." He was in a bind, suckered in to a raw deal with a creature he didn't understand and had underestimated. No way out now, it seemed. He had to play the game and let things fall where they may.
Leaning over, Roland studied the chess board, trying to make sense of the unconventional layout and rules. As he did so, something strange happened. A pressure filled his head, something like a cross between a headache and a memory just on the cusp of being recalled. His vision went blurry, and for a moment he started to hallucinate.
He could see the chess board in front of him, but he could also see two other versions of it, right next to the real board. Each of those phantasmal chess games were in a slightly different state of play than the original.
As he examined them, he realized that they were about a move or two ahead of the original game, and the further he examined them, more boards appeared that were further and further ahead in play.
What's more, there was a sense of gravity to certain boards, as though these were more important than the others. Following those boards, he traced them in to a state where he could see the endgame that he wanted, where Patchy was safe and he got the hell out of here.
...
Roland shook his head, and the vision cleared. Now there was only one chess board, with a grinning creature sitting across from him. "Alright." He said, moving his hand to a piece and trusting his instincts to guide him to the end result he saw. "Let's see if we can have a good game."
Leaning over, Roland studied the chess board, trying to make sense of the unconventional layout and rules. As he did so, something strange happened. A pressure filled his head, something like a cross between a headache and a memory just on the cusp of being recalled. His vision went blurry, and for a moment he started to hallucinate.
He could see the chess board in front of him, but he could also see two other versions of it, right next to the real board. Each of those phantasmal chess games were in a slightly different state of play than the original.
As he examined them, he realized that they were about a move or two ahead of the original game, and the further he examined them, more boards appeared that were further and further ahead in play.
What's more, there was a sense of gravity to certain boards, as though these were more important than the others. Following those boards, he traced them in to a state where he could see the endgame that he wanted, where Patchy was safe and he got the hell out of here.
...
Roland shook his head, and the vision cleared. Now there was only one chess board, with a grinning creature sitting across from him. "Alright." He said, moving his hand to a piece and trusting his instincts to guide him to the end result he saw. "Let's see if we can have a good game."
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
Without hesitation, he moves one of the black pawns forward into line of sight of a white pawn.
As if watching old stop-motion cartoons, the black pawn falls off his base. The little figure sprawls in a pool of blood and the white pawn's gun smokes.
The game continues and Patchy is almost out and free, when you realise a white pawn is one move from shooting her in the back. Only one black pawn remains; the two lackeys got out. Too far to help.
There's no way you can win this playing entirely by the rules, even with those spectral boards.
As if watching old stop-motion cartoons, the black pawn falls off his base. The little figure sprawls in a pool of blood and the white pawn's gun smokes.
The game continues and Patchy is almost out and free, when you realise a white pawn is one move from shooting her in the back. Only one black pawn remains; the two lackeys got out. Too far to help.
There's no way you can win this playing entirely by the rules, even with those spectral boards.
JayTee
Eight Thousand Club
He was close, damned close to getting Patchy out scot free. But there was the matter of the white pawn. If he moved it properly, it would hit Patchy square in the back and everything would be for nothing.
The real issue was the little guns. They were practically instantaneously, and always hit exactly what they pointed at whenever he set them down. It was practically impossible to miss if he lined it all up properly.
...which gave him an idea.
Picking the piece that was closest to shoot Patchy, he moved it over to be in line of sight of her and set it down, slightly askew instead of aiming perfectly at her. Almost immediately, the little gun went off, and a little crack appeared in the wall just beside patchy's head.
"Huh." Roland mused in faux surprise. "I didn't realize they could miss." He said, lying through his teeth.
The real issue was the little guns. They were practically instantaneously, and always hit exactly what they pointed at whenever he set them down. It was practically impossible to miss if he lined it all up properly.
...which gave him an idea.
Picking the piece that was closest to shoot Patchy, he moved it over to be in line of sight of her and set it down, slightly askew instead of aiming perfectly at her. Almost immediately, the little gun went off, and a little crack appeared in the wall just beside patchy's head.
"Huh." Roland mused in faux surprise. "I didn't realize they could miss." He said, lying through his teeth.
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
You recognize his expression - the practiced poker face of a man with a bad temper.
"Then you are more of a fool than even you take me for," he sneers, and moves Patchy out the door.
Her figurine falls over as it crosses the threshold. Now it's a statue of Patchy clutching a broken leg.
"Victory is yours, and so I must fulfill my wager," he says, going from repressed fury to feigned boredom. "The thorns will not impede you; simply follow the path to that which you seek."
"Then you are more of a fool than even you take me for," he sneers, and moves Patchy out the door.
Her figurine falls over as it crosses the threshold. Now it's a statue of Patchy clutching a broken leg.
"Victory is yours, and so I must fulfill my wager," he says, going from repressed fury to feigned boredom. "The thorns will not impede you; simply follow the path to that which you seek."
JayTee
Eight Thousand Club
It was an awkward feeling, trying to be as polite as possible while also trying to get the hell away from there as fast as possible, but somehow Roland managed it. Giving his thanks to the lord of the feast (he still didn't know the guy's name) for the directions and a good game, Roland hightailed it out of there and made a beeline in the direction indicated.
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
The thorns hiss with a dark wind. The leaves rattle with menace. Yellow, red, and green eyes watch you from the shadows and mocking laughter follows your steps.
You pass into mist and walk for what seems like hours, with only the watchtower to guide you past looming monoliths and ruined castles. Through a garden of weeping statues. Past an orrery of too many planets. Through a dim cottage where three old women sat around a creaking loom and watched you with odd-numbered eyes.
And finally, you emerge at the foot of the tower. It rises miles into the sky as if to touch the moon above and the peak you can see something.
At the base, where the stones are huge and haphazardly fit together in Cyclopean fashion, a thousand names are inscribed. You will not remember them when you leave here.
You know what you must do.
You pass into mist and walk for what seems like hours, with only the watchtower to guide you past looming monoliths and ruined castles. Through a garden of weeping statues. Past an orrery of too many planets. Through a dim cottage where three old women sat around a creaking loom and watched you with odd-numbered eyes.
And finally, you emerge at the foot of the tower. It rises miles into the sky as if to touch the moon above and the peak you can see something.
At the base, where the stones are huge and haphazardly fit together in Cyclopean fashion, a thousand names are inscribed. You will not remember them when you leave here.
You know what you must do.
JayTee
Eight Thousand Club
Roland had nothing to write with on him, but it didn't matter. A simple pen or pencil would not be sufficient in this case, for it would only war off eventually. This needed to be permeant, such that Time itself could not undo what was to be done.
Taking his gun, he emptied one of the bullets from the chamber, and used it as a makeshift chisel as he slowly carved his name in to the base of the tower. The movement of the bullet on the stone was smooth and effortless, as though he were tracing a name that was already there, just hidden from sight. Despite this, time seemed to stretch on. The task taking hours to complete, if not days. Nevertheless, he continued on.
Finally, when the last letter of his last name had been inscribed in to the tower, he looked upon the rising structure once more, and understood what exactly he was looking at.
Taking his gun, he emptied one of the bullets from the chamber, and used it as a makeshift chisel as he slowly carved his name in to the base of the tower. The movement of the bullet on the stone was smooth and effortless, as though he were tracing a name that was already there, just hidden from sight. Despite this, time seemed to stretch on. The task taking hours to complete, if not days. Nevertheless, he continued on.
Finally, when the last letter of his last name had been inscribed in to the tower, he looked upon the rising structure once more, and understood what exactly he was looking at.
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
You know your way around what's going on here. Go ahead and apply your Arcanum.
During the night, though, you come out here. The city is a neon explosion miles south, painting the sky in sick colours, criss-crossed with glimmering strands. You can barely see the stars, even on this patch of dusty road so far away. The desert bends like you're seeing it through a fish-eye lens.
This was the deal: Patchy gives you the guns at a reduced price. You come out here to sell them to the Mexicans at a 10% markup (not that they'd know). You then drive back to the city and sell their license plate numbers to a known snitch via dead-drop. Patchy says she'll have the guns out of evidence lockup within a month to sell to someone else.
Just you and the desert and your car, right now. The buyers should be here soon.
JayTee
Eight Thousand Club
Roland shook his head to clear his mind, still slightly dizzy from the encounter. He then took stock of his surroundings. It seemed he was back in the desert, and a quick check on the guns told him he was about to make the sale.
He smiled to himself. With knowledge of the past brought from the future, things would likely go very differently.
He smiled to himself. With knowledge of the past brought from the future, things would likely go very differently.
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Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
A pickup, a van, and a lovingly restored old mustang rumble out of the night towards you. They're just distant lights, for the longest time, and as the approach... you see the mustang first. You know you'll see the flag soon. You know who they are.
They park in a loose semi-circle, almost blinding you with their lights. Two guys exit the van, one steps from the mustang. Big motherfuckers, all three of them. Shaven heads, mostly flannel shirts and jeans. Guy from the car looks to be in charge, and has a Nazi eagle tattooed on his shoulder.
"You the man with the guns?" he asks, folding meaty arms. Accent isn't local.
You become aware of a muffled sobbing from behind the cars. "P-padre nuestro... que, que estás en los c-cielos..."
They park in a loose semi-circle, almost blinding you with their lights. Two guys exit the van, one steps from the mustang. Big motherfuckers, all three of them. Shaven heads, mostly flannel shirts and jeans. Guy from the car looks to be in charge, and has a Nazi eagle tattooed on his shoulder.
"You the man with the guns?" he asks, folding meaty arms. Accent isn't local.
You become aware of a muffled sobbing from behind the cars. "P-padre nuestro... que, que estás en los c-cielos..."
JayTee
Eight Thousand Club
"That I am." Roland said with a smile, looking back at the man with the eagle tattoo, Joseph, he recalled. "Although you don't seem to be the buyer I had planned, I suppose beggars can't be choosers." He said, recalling how things went previously. "I have guns if you have the cash." He said.
Postcognition on Joseph to find out who he got the money from. Using my two free Reach to bring it in to Instant and Sensory. two successes
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Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
You see Joseph in a seedy bar; he looks at home until an edgy, skinny fella taps him on the shoulder and takes him to a van across the street.
It's set up like a little NSA listening post on the inside. Men in black suits with black lenses you're not completely sure are sunglasses.
"What the fuck you want?" Joseph barks.
One of the men in black kicks a duffel bag across the floor.
---------------------------------------
"Good," he says, and one of the other goons throws a duffel bag - looks military, in fact - at your feet. "Twenty five grand," the leader adds, pointing. "We'll take the weapons."
It's set up like a little NSA listening post on the inside. Men in black suits with black lenses you're not completely sure are sunglasses.
"What the fuck you want?" Joseph barks.
One of the men in black kicks a duffel bag across the floor.
---------------------------------------
"Good," he says, and one of the other goons throws a duffel bag - looks military, in fact - at your feet. "Twenty five grand," the leader adds, pointing. "We'll take the weapons."
JayTee
Eight Thousand Club
Well, that's creepy. Definitely not what Ronald expected. He's have to investigate that eventually, either because someone was on to him, or because something was on to him.
For now, though, that money was no good and he just didn't like Joseph that much, especially since he interfered with a pre-arranged deal. Time to put an end to this charade.
Moving to collect the bag and verify the money, Roland took his time to appear non-threatening, before looking a back at Joseph and his crew after he was done. "Everything seems to be in order. Give me a moment." He said.
With a little luck and the right timing, soon Joseph will have lost everything, from his money to his prisoner.
For now, though, that money was no good and he just didn't like Joseph that much, especially since he interfered with a pre-arranged deal. Time to put an end to this charade.
Moving to collect the bag and verify the money, Roland took his time to appear non-threatening, before looking a back at Joseph and his crew after he was done. "Everything seems to be in order. Give me a moment." He said.
With a little luck and the right timing, soon Joseph will have lost everything, from his money to his prisoner.
Green light/Red Light on myself to accelerate the arrival of the chopper. 1 Reach to make it instant, 1 Reach to use Advanced Duration.5 dice for 4 successes.
Exceptional Luck on Joseph, Die penalty Hex. 1 Reach to make it instant, 1 Reach to make it Sensory, 1 Reach to use Advanced Duration. 2 Paradox. Spending 2 Mana to reduce that to 0. 6 dice for 1 success
Had a bit of a mishap when dice rolling. Accidentally rolled a 6 sided die, making it impossible for me to succeed. Retooling using the proper dice face value lead me to accidentally rolling 5 dice on the Exceptional Luck roll instead of 6.
Guess Joseph wasn't the only one hit by that spell.
Exceptional Luck on Joseph, Die penalty Hex. 1 Reach to make it instant, 1 Reach to make it Sensory, 1 Reach to use Advanced Duration. 2 Paradox. Spending 2 Mana to reduce that to 0. 6 dice for 1 success
Had a bit of a mishap when dice rolling. Accidentally rolled a 6 sided die, making it impossible for me to succeed. Retooling using the proper dice face value lead me to accidentally rolling 5 dice on the Exceptional Luck roll instead of 6.
Guess Joseph wasn't the only one hit by that spell.
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
You hear a chopper approach, a weird dopplered effect like two approaching some kind of audio asymptote. Everyone else becomes aware of it as you pick up the bag.
Not enough time to exchange goods. A chorus of swearing rises from the scum arrayed in front of you. Joseph screams abuse after one of the cars as the owner panics and starts to flee.
Joseph fixes you with a glare between anger and desperation. Not a man who does fear if he can get good and mad, you guess.
But he's not quite as dumb as that flag decal would imply and runs for his vehicle.
His engine chugs unhelpfully. The horn blares as he slams the steering wheel in frustration.
Not enough time to exchange goods. A chorus of swearing rises from the scum arrayed in front of you. Joseph screams abuse after one of the cars as the owner panics and starts to flee.
Joseph fixes you with a glare between anger and desperation. Not a man who does fear if he can get good and mad, you guess.
But he's not quite as dumb as that flag decal would imply and runs for his vehicle.
His engine chugs unhelpfully. The horn blares as he slams the steering wheel in frustration.
JayTee
Eight Thousand Club
Roland jumped in to his own car as the chopper arrived on time and gunned the engine, moving it to pull alongside Josephs own, but facing the opposite direction so he could face the man directly. "Move your ass and we'll try this again later." He said, lying through his teeth before accelerating.
Talking to Joseph was important to keep up appearances and was secondary to his main goal, which was to give him a clear view of where their prisoner was located. With a flicker of will and a tug on the strings of causality, Roland gave the mexican what help he could to escape unscathed.
Talking to Joseph was important to keep up appearances and was secondary to his main goal, which was to give him a clear view of where their prisoner was located. With a flicker of will and a tug on the strings of causality, Roland gave the mexican what help he could to escape unscathed.
Exceptional Luck on the mexican prisoner so he can get away. 2 Reach to make it Sensory and Instant, 1 Reach to give it Advanced Duration. 2 Paradox. Rolling Wisdom to contain it this time. 7 dice for 3 successes, Paradox mitigated.
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
Joseph shouts something incomprehensible over the noise, the chopper and more vehicles begin to close in.
The escaping flunky has encountered the law; gunfire flashes in the middle distance. A stay bullet whines past and ricochets into the pickup bed. A pause, barely a second - then laughter, shocked and manic laughter as the prisoner, bleeding and dirty, leaps from the pickup and staggers towards the road.
He drops a broken handcuff as he goes.
You speed away before anyone can make you.
The escaping flunky has encountered the law; gunfire flashes in the middle distance. A stay bullet whines past and ricochets into the pickup bed. A pause, barely a second - then laughter, shocked and manic laughter as the prisoner, bleeding and dirty, leaps from the pickup and staggers towards the road.
He drops a broken handcuff as he goes.
You speed away before anyone can make you.
JayTee
Eight Thousand Club
"Well, that went better than expected, all things considered." Roland said to himself as he pulled out his phone. Dialing Patchy's number by reflex, he decided it was time to update her on the situation.
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
"Yeah?"
Patchy has never smoked a day in her life, but she sounds like the bastard daughter of Tom Waits anyway. It was a knife, not cigarettes, that did it.
"That better be Roland."
Patchy has never smoked a day in her life, but she sounds like the bastard daughter of Tom Waits anyway. It was a knife, not cigarettes, that did it.
"That better be Roland."
JayTee
Eight Thousand Club
"Yeah, Patchy it's me." Roland said, getting a mild sense of deja vu. "I got bad news, the sale was interrupted by the usual troublemakers. It's for the best, though, as the original buyer was... accosted by a bunch of neo confederates idiots. He managed to give them the slip, but not before they roughed him up a bit." He said. "We may want to make an outreach to the original buyers, possibly offer them a deal as a conciliation. Your call, though. I'll fill you in on the details when I get back."
Even though he could twist time and command the fates, Roland still couldn't help but speak in euphemisms, just in case someone might be listening.
Even though he could twist time and command the fates, Roland still couldn't help but speak in euphemisms, just in case someone might be listening.
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
Patchy sighs, heavily.
"Get your ass down here, then, and tell me what the fuck happened. You know the place."
The Hourglass is an old joint, rebranded time and again, changing hands every few years, never really doing better than keeping head above water. A golden hourglass full of gold-painted beads looms over the front doors, and the music is low. You hear when they opened, that thing was full of real gold dust.
You've only really met Patchy out and about before. Sure, you know she operates from here, but you've never had to meet her here. Not the safest, afterall.
You're shown through the Alice In Wonderland themed main floor to the offices. Looks like the walls were knocked through to give Patchy plenty of space.
And there she is - rail thin, dark skinned, a tailored gray suit that makes her look like a corporate scarecrow. You're used to something more casual. The expanded office is even weirder - she sits at a plastic-looking modern desk with two computer monitors and a stack of paper, and behind her the entire wall is covered in corkboard.
Photos, notes, names. A complex tangle of coloured threads links them all.
A couple of guys in shirts and ties sit at another, smaller table a few feet to her left, hurriedly typing.
Patchy exhales a stream of smoke. She smiles like she should be lurking in a swamp, waiting to rip someone's leg off.
"Roland. Glad you could make it," she draws on her cigar. "What the fuck happened?"
"Get your ass down here, then, and tell me what the fuck happened. You know the place."
The Hourglass is an old joint, rebranded time and again, changing hands every few years, never really doing better than keeping head above water. A golden hourglass full of gold-painted beads looms over the front doors, and the music is low. You hear when they opened, that thing was full of real gold dust.
You've only really met Patchy out and about before. Sure, you know she operates from here, but you've never had to meet her here. Not the safest, afterall.
You're shown through the Alice In Wonderland themed main floor to the offices. Looks like the walls were knocked through to give Patchy plenty of space.
And there she is - rail thin, dark skinned, a tailored gray suit that makes her look like a corporate scarecrow. You're used to something more casual. The expanded office is even weirder - she sits at a plastic-looking modern desk with two computer monitors and a stack of paper, and behind her the entire wall is covered in corkboard.
Photos, notes, names. A complex tangle of coloured threads links them all.
A couple of guys in shirts and ties sit at another, smaller table a few feet to her left, hurriedly typing.
Patchy exhales a stream of smoke. She smiles like she should be lurking in a swamp, waiting to rip someone's leg off.
"Roland. Glad you could make it," she draws on her cigar. "What the fuck happened?"
This is not a bad time for Active Mage Sight.
Also I am really enjoying the way this is working out. Glad I got the setup just right.
Also I am really enjoying the way this is working out. Glad I got the setup just right.
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