Not your mother, but your mind goes back to a large cave. Three women spun strands of thread upon a wheel, your mother holds your young ladys. "Ladies of Fate, please listen to my heed. My son he will be powerful watch over him."
"We the Fates watch over everybody, but also those with strong threads like your child." the voice, the same as the one on the radio says.
You also recognise that the 3 Fates weren't just talking to you? Who is the resting newcomer with her bags of weed?
Danny elbows Ken (completely unnecessary, as he spotted the cars before Danny) as the cars pull up near them. Danny sweeps back already perfect hair back from his freshly scrubbed face. He begins singing under his breath, to the tune of 'Singin in the Rain'.
'It's Paaarty time again,
just party time again,
Gonna go meet with big-wigs,
I'm haappy again!'
He grins at Ken, and saunters over to the sports car.
"'Allo' luv!' " Danny smiles at the woman behind the wheel.
Saraya gets out of her brash sports car; the first thing you see is her long legs. Softly curved and travelling all the way up to a tight black mini skirt, she sidles over to the pair of men all hips and wiggle. She flicks her crimson hair with a twist of her head; a cascade of fire as she looks hungrily at the males. "My you are very tall!" she says sultrily.
Biting one finger between her toffee-apple lips, she runs the other down Kenneth's chest. The perfectly manicured nails describe a slow arc over the cloth. "So which of you wants to ride with me. And which wants to ride with the girls." She points to the grey mini-van; it appears to have nearly a dozen women and some men.
They mostly appear young-ish, they are all uniformly pretty. They appear to be doing various activities from preening to reading to listening to music or just staring off into space. "Got your guitar, and other entertainment Danny?"
Saraya looks into the night; "So where you going to go....I suppose I could squeeze in the pair of you. In my car that is." she adds with a wicked smile.
Danny's eyes sparkle with unabashed glee at the innuendo.
"I'll bet you could." he replies straight-faced.
"Yeah, I've got my guitar. If you think I'll need it. Well 'Mr. Ken', which do you prefer?" He asks the bard, indicating the waiting sports car and the minivan.
Danny's mind races. He would Love to ride in the sports car, and spending time with the beautiful Saraya wouldn't hurt either. (Although having to share her attentions might cramp his style.) But his college-mentally is also clamoring for him to go jump in the mini-van, confident that by the time they reach their destination he will be holding court over the entire gaggle of women, and the guys too.
IOW, it doesn't matter to me, I can run with it! :)
hehe I need the driving skill i think; how do I do this roll? I guess we can lean the other way inside the car around corners to keep more weight over the drive tires hehe.
SOMETHING is happening; I am sure; I just had a, I dont know what; a vision, a view of someplace else, i just had; that voice. My mother, whom I have no conscious recollection standing at the Three Fates, I think our group; in a greater sense; is being woven into a unit for a Greater Task; there is a great challenge to mankind being posed before us and I believe it is we who will take up that challenge.
With Letitia at the wheel and not being local neither is Sal, whilst as Aximeus doesn't drive or approach the city from this direction. The darkness confounds them, they fail to take the optimal line into the circuitous and archaic roads into the city. So different from the grid-hatches of the America's, this has been grown organically over the centuries.
Out of the darkness and through the narrow streets they emerge onto the broader bus & train station area; just in time to see a mini-bus pull away and behind it Saraya's red sports car and in it....
Saraya looks you over, sizing you up like a hungry tiger. "Your friend goes in the van and you can come with me" she purrs; "I wouldn't want you to influence all those young ladies. And you can carefully explain why you had that Jericho's phone. Is there a handsome man cloning facility." she winks taking Danny's hand and dragging him in the car.
Once there she pulls out of the car-park with a squeal of tyres, she knows where she's heading and how to get there...fast. Looking across at the scarlet haired woman, you realise she is smaller than you first thought. More petite and pretty.
Instead you enter the mini-bus, it's packed with various people. The one constant is that they are all attractive, a dozen women and a handful of men. Soon the bus takes off through the winding roads towards the party at the ROAB HQ.
Male Warrior-Bard of Old; Herald of Brigid Stress: P: OOOO M:OOOO S:OOO; Fate Points: 2
Kenneth chuckles as Danny pulls away, I didnae to say I was with someone, not in front of someone I dinnae trust. This is better.... 'Acourse, either possible ride would likely make Laura more than a mite cross if she found out, ye ken.
Kenneth tries to enjoy the view and make a few friends on the bus... purely for appearance's sake, ye ken..
The red car speeds off through the darkness, quickly it hits the roundabout along to the motorway. The mini-van in tow, as it rumbles along the road.
Letitia slows down slightly, however fortunately there is only a single lane each direction. And with few turnings it isn't unusual to follow the road, thus she isn't too obvious with her driving.
Saraya however, is driving more aggressively than needs be. The car ends up not being that fast as she power-slides around corners. Whether she is doing this just for the thrill or to impress Danny is not readily apparent.
Kenneth finds some stimulating conversation with a young lady, she bears a striking resemblance to Zooey Deschanel as well as baring a slight expanse of thigh. She talks about Dutch renaissance painters as if you are interested.
Soon you hit a large town, and drive along the long streets and then there seems to be a walled area. Saraya slows up her reckless driving, spinning the car into a skid. She enters through a pair of of heavy wooden gates. Set back from these along an infeasibly long drive for the urban and heavily built up area is a Building. The mini-van turns in through the gates, following Saraya's red sports car. Whilst Letitia pulls past the gates and into a small side-street nearby.
Saraya's red convertible and the mini-bus drive up the pea-gravel pathway. The soft crunch as they roll up it to the house.
To the right is a wide swath of lawn, at the end of it is some illumination from a mass of water. However in the foreground appears to be a tent, a large Céilidh going on inside... or at least the music tinkles out.
Whilst on the left is a large stone building, with parapets and flood-lights from the walls. Just normal security lights, with camera's behind. There is a large reception area and hall.
Saraya pulls up before the building, she looks over to Danny with a quirk of her eye-brow. "Set up your guitar and stuff in the tent, we have an amp and things. The dance with all the politicians will be in there, currently they are having a meal inside."
"Then after the dance they'll retire back inside." her lips bow. "If you see anyone you like?"
Saraya moves over to the van and opens the side, "Wait in here for the moment. I'll find out where the changing rooms are!"
Sal observes the long drive as they pass the gate, then leans forward to talk to Axe and Letitia over the front seat back. "Looks like a party. Should we crash it? Are there going to be any sort of weird wards around the place, or can we creep in unnoticed, do you think?"
There is only a single guard at the gate. With a clipboard noting down the license plates subtly. He doesn't want to disturb the guests too much. He has a uniform (suit, tie and hat) and you are sure there are more inside, but they seem to be fairly hidden.
Danny actually looks almost depressed for a moment as Saraya actually drags him to her car. He had already envisioned himself as 'King of the Harem Van' in his mind.
But the moment swiftly passes as he takes another look at the lady holding him by the wrist. He turns on his 'friendly/sexy/cute' grin to high beam. He decides that this arrangement will be just fine. Although the strength of Saraya's grip does not escape his notice, despite the distracting flashes of legs she provides as she climbs back into the sports car.
As they start to pull out of the train station, Danny once again turns on his charming grin. "So, what's a nice girl like you doing staffing a gig like thiiis!!" Danny's voice goes up almost an octave as Saraya takes the first curve far faster than the posted recommended speed.
Danny looks back to Saraya, and his grin becomes less charming, and more charmed. It is a short mental hop, and another curve, and Danny reverts back to his college days, shouting encouragement to her as she takes the turns in Duke boy style. When they take the last turn into the gravel drive, Danny turns back to Saraya.
"Do you believe in love at first fright?" He smiles.
When they stop, Danny heads for the trunk (Ah yes, the 'boot' here) to reclaim his guitar from the tiny space. "DOn't worry about me. I'm sure I'll find something I like." He grins at her. When she turns to go inside, Danny tilts his head to appreciate the amount of leg showing as she takes the brief rise of steps to the door. He shakes his head to clear it.
"Easy Danny-boy, business before pleasure! And I'm not entirely convinced that would be all pleasure." He smirks wryly as he heads into the tent.
Once inside, he puts his guitar down and takes a look around, checking his cell phone out of habit. He frowns when he realizes he had missed messages. He never turned his cell back up after the switch, and in the excitement of the drive here, he didn't feel it go off. He hastily taps out a reply to Axe's last query.
'All ok. Working party for the bigwigs. No known worries. Don't wait up. :)'
Danny pockets the phone, taking a good look around, and categorizing anyone he sees in the tent at this time into categories such as 'Security', 'Entertainment', (as opposed to 'Entertainment') Food Service, and Competition.
"I doubt I could look like the help, but if Letetia here can check for magical alarms, I can insert over the wall and reconnoiter, at least. I'm not sure what we are looking for," she smiles wryly and chuckles, "But I'm usually ready for trouble. I think I could recognize your friends, but it's better if we stick close together as a group so I don't kill the wrong people. If it comes to that."
She shrugs off the long duster, then peels the long dress up from her ankles, squirming to get it free from her body, then pulling it off over her head. It was obviously simply tossed on over the former outfit, and she restores the boots and gloves. "I can't move in that dress, so this will have to do."
Saraya goes inside the reception area and after a quick frisk from a door-man talks to the concierge. There's a brief conversation before she returns to the van/bus; pulling open the door. "Everyone mingle. Our guests will be done with their food shortly. So make sure they enjoy their desserts." Then grabbing a bag from the driver
Saraya then moves to the inside of the tent and over to the crates of wine; she gets out her bag and opens a bottle of bubbly.
Seemingly casting some form of sympathetic magic over all the drinks;
'♫ A taste of Honey;
A touch of Lace;
Smell of Leather;
Sight of Erotica;
Sound of a Sated Sigh. ♪'
She adds these things to the drink, thus turning all the wine into a mild lust potion. This takes a few minutes to create and will last until the dawn. Then she'll gently sample it, to a warm nod at her work.
Inside & Near the Tent:
There is a bustle of a few musicians, mostly classical as well as a DJ. They appear to be turning up.
Whilst the waiting staff, in their suits wander across the thick floor. The heavy lino placed upon the lawn, where the tent stands. The staff carry platters of canapes & flutes that they are about to fill with wine.
At the entrance there are a couple of suited men milling around, from their demeanour and poise they are Military. Probably part of the RAOB security team.
In the centre of the tent is a dance floor surrounded by tables, whilst at the far end it is open exposing a patio area with love seats.
And looking further out onto the lake you can see a boat illuminated by lanterns, this junk has some movement aboard and the dock is guarded by what looks like dogs in kennels.
Male Warrior-Bard of Old; Herald of Brigid Stress: P: OOOO M:OOOO S:OOO; Fate Points: 2
Kenneth eyes the enchanted wine and the company with a wistful sigh, Ach, couldnae this have all have happened before I met Laura? Truly, Lady, you've quite the sense of humour where your herald is concerned.
Shaking himself free of the ladies, he approaches Danny with a smile, "Well now, that was the most pleasant van ride of my life." He winks and motions with his head, "Some of them dinnae wait for their changing rooms, ye ken."
He steps a mite closer and drops his voice to a whisper, "I dinnae hae my guitar, and I be a bard, and nae a go-go dancer... I guess that makes me a backup singer or manager, and the latter would probably give me a wee bit o' time tae look about."
Danny slides over to stand next to Kenneth, supposedly pointing out a particularly impressive ice sculpture and wondering aloud where he would be best located at among the musicians.
"Well, I guess Bubbly is off the menu tonight. I've heard of spiking the drinks before, but that's a little extreme. Don't you think?" Danny murmurs to Ken.
"Why would she do that? Methinks our benefactor might be padding her income with some juicy photos and a bit of blackmail. Or maybe she just wants to make sure that no one gets bored and wanders off during the party?"
Danny shrugs, chucks Ken on the shoulder, and moves to a corner near the stage. He puts down his over sized case with a groan of relief, and unzips one side. He pulls out his well-worn but lovingly maintained acoustic guitar, leaving the other half of the bag still filled with the outline of what appears to be a custom electric guitar.
He finds and checks a spare amp with a wired mic on it, but doesn't clip it to his guitar just yet. He strums a few chords and 'la-la's' a bit, warming up. He chats up the band as they finish setting, asking them what they plan to play, and endorses their choices wholeheartedly. During the last minute flurry of activity before the expected guests enter the tent, Danny makes his way casually towards the entrance. Not too close enough to catch the eye of security, but close enough for him to see faces plainly, and allow him to step forward to talk to the guests as they head towards the dessert tables.
Soon, Saraya gives the band the 'here they come, start playing' signal, and they do so. Danny fills in from where he stands with light background chords, complementing the band on stage for those close enough to hear him.
Danny nods to Ken, "Most of what the big band is playing is classical, they have some light rock for later, and 'dancing' when the mood takes them." He smirks.
"If, or rather when, they start to go outside for 'private time' after the magic bubbly, I suppose we could be the wandering minstrels there to keep the mood going. In the meantime, make friends. Here they come!" Danny says, wandering nearer to the entrance.
The security take little notice of Danny, not wishing to offend anyone tonight at this gala event. They seen serious and stoic - annoyed even - by the events.
A stream of gentlemen in their 40's (maybe a couple in their 30's) wearing dinner jackets or tuxedo's and some mature ladies in sensible dresses slowly enter the tent. Most of them are lost in conversation. There's about 20 in total of these politicians.
The 'escorts' from the bus gradually drift over to them, glasses in hand that they distribute to the debating toffs.
Yeah Kenneth, I have heard of some of those punk bands. Quite 'unique'.
Letitia smiles and looks across at Sal as she strips down to her earlier skirt; "Reminds me of my youth and the Cure gigs." She shucks out of her suit jacket and throws it in the drivers seat, straps on the long rapier to her belt.
Bending over to the glove box, Letitia gets out a pair of leather gloves. They seem to have strands of silver metal or spider silk running across them in patterns. She puts them on and moves over to the wall, placing her hand against it.
The English noble mutters something in an incomprehensible language, with her eyes closed in concentration. There's a blue crackle down the length of the wall, like a wave of blue electricity flowing. "No wards here." Letitia observes.
Leaving the long, dragging garments in the car, Sal swings on her backpack, jumps up to brace herself on her hands at the top of the wall, leaning over to observe the ground at the base of the wall and, if she sees, nothing, pivots over the top to drop quietly on the other side.
The groups mingle and talk, from a few reserved people you can identify the hosts. A number of dour men, who do not drink - wear heavy dark suits and seem to avoid the company provided. Although Saraya occasionally approaches one individual before drifting around and openly flirting with an individual you identify as David Cameron, the Prime Minister and his wife.
You notice that at least one gentleman expects this sort of treatment from the escorts and slopes off to the house. The rest are enjoying the music and discussing matters of national importance, or their bank accounts with to them are the same thing.
Outside, you notice down the slope of the lawn stands the lake and the Chinese boat that bobs upon it. There is the sporadic pop of fire-works and smell of incense wafts on the air (as if to drown out the distasteful party).
Outside the Tent
The building stands like an giant mausoleum, lit by funeral lights - it's mouth yawning open, inviting those to rest inside. The security lights dowse it in a lurid glow and sentinels now stand to either side of the door. These guardians are simply besuited humans, who silently observe the occasional party-goer and serving staff that enters the building (probably to use the 'facilities')
Then there is the long driveway with a host of cars, parked silently. Distinguished and dark cars hide amongst the shadows.
Tent stands majestically near the main build, noise and the sound of revelry coming from this marquee. The party inside flowing in full swing...
The tent stands at the front of a expanse of lawn. Immaculately kept, there's bound to be a herb garden and a host of other gardens or focal points that one would expect of a grandiose manor house. The lawn rolls down a slope and towards a lake.
In the distance there is a shimmer of light off the lake and a soft movement upon it. As either something drifts there or the wind forms ripples, actually you can see rather a prominent boat in the distance. However it is small over the mile stretch of lawn and partially hidden behind the trees that line the lake.
Danny slips off his guitar and lays it in the corner, letting the band do their thing. He mingles through the crowd, complementing every lady he passes by. He eventually slides by Kenneth again.
"Nice place. I gotta get me one." He nods to the house.
"I'm gonna mingle, see what I can hear, But I wonder why they're here. The threat was real, but to what purpose? And call me paranoid, but I didn't know this was a themed party. Why the Chinese Junk?" He tucks a thumb at the boat and occasional fireworks outside.
Danny shakes his head. "This is my kinda scene. Decent music, decent snacks, and hot and cold running money. But I'm having a hard time enjoying it. And now that I think about it, Saraya was being awfully nice, inviting us out of the blue like that. I gotta start being more suspicious of people."
"Keep an eye on the hosts, If anything is up, they'll be the first to give it away. See ya!" Danny turns back to the crowd, his most charming grin in place. The one that had been known to make women declare him 'adorable', and lavish him with affection. And money.
This particular crowd is a little out of his usual bailiwick. And possibly his league. While he certainly doesn't offend anyone, his usual charming tactics are at best a stalemate to the savvy and leery political crowd. But one tried and true means never fails.
When all else fails, flattery will get you every time.
By the time the band has started it's 4th song, Danny has found his groove. He nabs a champagne flute, drops half it's contents into a potted plant, and assumes the manner of one who has had enough to be very,... happy. He nods knowingly to the men, winks at the ladies, and complements one and all. And he doesn't ignore the ever present aides that hang back, waiting to jump to the side of their political benefactors. Before the band is ready to take it's first brake, Danny has personally spoken with over half the tent. And eavesdropped on at least half a dozen more.
Sal crouches motionless on the far side of the fence, looking and listening carefully. After a few moments, she relaxes and rises slowly, scanning the area a last time.
She crouches at the base of the wall and springs, catching the top and pulling herself the rest of the way up until she is again balanced on her hands, top of the wall pressing against her hip bones as she leans to look over it at Axemius and Letitia.
"It's clear on this side. Come on," she murmurs softly, aware that a whisper would carry better than low speech. She drops back down and unholsters her pistol, crouching in a low guard while she waits for the other two.
As he wanders around the tent he picks up snippets of conversations. The party is going in full swing.
Man 1: "Oh, that boat on the lake. Used to see them all the time when I was in Hong Kong."
Man 2: "Really?"
Man 1: "Yes, not one of the plebs boat either."
Saraya: "You got the camera's set up?"
Mr Todmorden: "In the rooms pointed as you instruct. Your girls know what to do?"
Saraya: *laughs lustily* "Of course. They'll make sure you get the film you want."
Man 3: "Good to be here after all the abrupt troubles in London."
Man from Bus: "Well, I'll just have to make you forget all about the big city."
Man 4: "How's your daughter? Still talking to the oracle in Whitby"
Man 5: "Yeah, she's on her gap year."
Bus Lady 2: "So how about showing a girl a good time."
Mr Todmorden: "Heard anything from London?"
Mr Blanche: "No, Mr Bowlem hasn't reported back. I cannot get in touch with him."
Mr Todmorden: "I hope his men haven't fouled up. Well, it was only a secondary objective to get rid of the decadent freaks."
Mr Blanche: "Pity Mr Bowlem was quite competent. Whilst the triads were a bunch of hippies."
Female Politician: "Hopefully it'll be better than the last event they hosted, that Valentines Ball."
Man from Bus 2: "Oh, I went there. It was chaos, but it didn't have such enchanting company."
Saraya: "Guard Dogs" *points to the lake*
Mr Todmorden: "Just keep away from the lake. And keep your girls away too."
Dave C: *walks over* "I was a top punter at Cambridge."
Saraya: "I bet you are. Sarah, think he can show me some techniques." *hands the couple more champagne*
Sarah C: *blushes & downs the flute of champagne* "Mmmmm"
Mr Todmorden: *walks off exasperated*
Man 1: You are a fine filly fancy a ride?
Bus Lady: *Nods & leads him to house*
Man = Politician, Bus = 'Escorts', Mr = RAOB men in suits.
Axe puts his armor and such in the duffel and put on his street clothes. Slings the duffle over his shoulder.
Sal, I could easily hoist you over that fence and jump it myself; but we might try driving in first; what do you think; your backup singers and I am sound engineer? If they ask us the bands name; we give em the onl; what is it this week schtick and shout out a lot of rude names, its what musician do in my experience.
Sal shrugs, reholsters her pistol, and hauls herself back over the fence to where the other two are. "Sorry, shouldn't have assumed we do this the sneaky way. When you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail, ya know?" She hesitates a moment. "I don't know much about what is going on here, so if you think it's a good idea, we can try it."
She clambers back into the rear seat of the sleek car, pulling open her bag and withdrawing her makeup kit. "So, do I go punk or respectable?" After one good look at Letitia, she nods and says, "Respectable." She slips the long skirt back over the mini and fishnets, then quickly does a nice makeup job, clipping her hair back with decorative combs. The excess jewelry and gloves go back in the bag and the leather jacket is replaced by a black bolero, still covering the holster.
"Declining?!?" Letitia raises an eye brow in the rear-view mirror; "Alright let's do it." She turns to Sal with a wink.
Drawing a key up her tights she ladders them artfully, rolls the waist-band of her skirt up. Thus exposing 6 inches more of leg & thigh, she looks down with slight approval. Then she slips off her jacket and shirt exposing a utilitarian black bra, before putting the jacket back on doing up a couple of buttons only. Smearing her mascara and borrowing some of Sal's make-up she quickly transforms.
"Corporate Punk! Perfect for politicians growing up in the 70's." She wonders.
Inside the Ground
The suited man virtually leans into the window to get a good look of the ladies and man in the back; "Who are you then?"
Danny winds his way over to his guitar, he bends over and fusses with the strings to hide the nervous shivers he is feeling.
'Holy Frijoles! I expected something like a blackmail set up. (Heck, I'd probably do the same thing, given the chance.) But it isn't Saraya doing it for money or favors, it's the ROAB! And with the molotov lust cocktails, even the goody-two-shoes are going to be dancing in the sheets. The ROAB will OWN the entire government!' Danny's fingers slip, and he gets a small cut on one fingertip from a string. He promptly sticks it in his mouth. Another thought finally sinks in, causing a cold spot to form low in his belly.
'And the ROAB planted the bomb. A REAL bomb. Just to get them out of London and here so they could gain influence over them. They were willing to kill millions. Just to kill some 'freaks', and he called it a SECONDARY objective!?! What the H, E, double-hockey-sticks is his PRIMARY objective?!?!'
'Gotta tell Ken, gotta tell the others! And we gotta stop them from doing,... whatever it is they're doing! Starting with the blackmail coup de gras of the century! Now, how do you UNhex a lust potion??? And who the heck are these clowns?'
Danny looks around, mind racing. He knows next to nothing about 'magic', and he knows it. But Ken seemed to actually use it, maybe he could do something about the lust potion and end the blackmail party before it got too far underway.
Danny spotted Ken, chatting with a lovely lady, probably an assistant, who was obviously far more interested in him than he was in her. The champagne was already doing it's thing, and Danny saw another couple already heading towards the house. Whatever they were going to do, they needed to do it quickly. Danny waved at Ken when the bard turned his way, and waved him over. Danny returned to fiddling with his guitar while he waited for Ken to make his way over.
Danny had an idea. It wasn't one of his favorites. He needed to know what they were up against. Danny had what he called the 'Spirit Sight', another gift from his fae mother. It let him see through illusions and look at people as they really were. It also let him see things hidden from most people, like invisible fae and ghosts. He didn't like using it too much. Because whatever he saw became ingrained in his memory permanently, as if he had always just looked at it. WHen he first discovered it, he had thought it was cool. Then he saw a couple of things he wished he hadn't. Things that made him want to scrub his brain with bleach. Since then he was usually very careful about using his Sight.
Danny pulled out his cell phone, and after a few moments trying to figure out how make it sound innocent (being paranoid about electronic interceptions) typed a swift, short message to Axe.
Party getting wild. Might need ride home. Be a shame if you missed the fireworks.
Danny pocketed the cell, hoping he wasn't being TOO paranoid, or making it too difficult for Axe figure out that he was asking for backup. Then he realized that he was stalling. Ken was making his way over, but the interactions were getting, frisky, and there wasn't a clear path.
Danny sighed. He closed his eyes, calmed himself, and opened his eyes, and his Sight. He looked at the band first, just to be careful, and then slowly turned to look around the tent,...
Sal gives the gate guard her best bored-teenager eyerolling sneer. "Band," she sighs, as if he's asking the most ridiculous question in the world, "We're late. Where do we go? Oh, and he's a cook. In case you couldn't tell." She jerks a thumb in Axemius' direction and swivels in her seat to make her short skirt even shorter, giving the man an eyeful of leg up to here. She stares him down, worrying her tongue piercing with her teeth ostentatiously.
So for free you get the below description as you open you sight. If you give me a Lore Roll (with a TN3)then I'll 'interpret' the Sight (if you wish to focus on a single specific person area point it out). Then you will have to make a Discipline roll against Mental Attack:4d3 - 8 + 3 ⇒ (3, 3, 3, 3) - 8 + 3 = 7, when you succeed THEN you can shut down the Sight or Try for another Clue/'interpretation'.
The tent slowly fades into grey everything slows down; the sounds of the party become muffled like sticking his head in water. Danny's body becomes light and sensation drifts away.
The Sight wrote:
The Politicians walk around, their forms similar to moments ago. However they drag shackles of gold around with them, slowing their movements to a glacial crawl. There is evident strain upon their faces; whilst at the same time there's a twinkle of lost hope deep within their eyes. And upon their faces rictus smiles of greed and desire, that of privilege and opportunity.
Around their genitals and a nimbus around the crown of their heads is a red glow with flecks of gold.
All the ROAB men look alike despite their individual variances (IE they are not a single entity), they are grey. Not just grey but Dull Grey. A sort of melancholy and lawfulness pervades there being. Order and pride in their stance as they look through the other people with disdain. Too each other they look with Brotherhood and a dark misguided thoughts of justice. They are wholly utterly Human, with no supernatural only Human!
Behind all of this is a taste of spices, Oriental Spices of Cantonese cuisine. It drifts in through the tent flap, coming from the lake, there's a low roar of a desperate creature. Angry and passionate, it seems to be roar dully. Underneath that is a stench you recognise from the riverbanks and Tybalts boat; that of ghouls.
The most shocking sight is Saraya, she appears at once two beings. The voluptuary with only a gauze dress to cover her, trying to hold handfuls of sand. As it hits the floor turning in to tears of blood, the look upon her face is both ecstatic and horrified at her actions. Dark-lines run across her skin writhing attempting to tear her apart, but she ignores them.
Then her image flicks to that of a 8 year old girl in high-heeled shoes and a scarlet dress, a Barbie in her hand. She calls for her Daddy, but he never comes and gradually she sobs her dry throat hoarse.
Though the man does seem to have some interest in the ladies in the front seats, his eyes slow but steady. He has the demeanour of Military man, spent too long in hostile territory without 'companionship' but with a iron resolve.
"Bands already here! The two guys arrived with the "ladies", now what do you say?" He says his firmly. The top button of Letitia's jacket pops open as she stretches her shoulders.
Deceit or some other social roll. Letitia's stretching has added an 'Aspect: Distracted'. But You require TN Discipline:4d3 - 8 + 6 ⇒ (1, 2, 3, 3) - 8 + 6 = 7