I'm sorry to hear it, but I'd much rather you put things on hold than keep slogging. I'll be ready and waiting when you get back.
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Already stunned by the icy cold, Tomasz barely holds himself together as the violin's shriek sets his limbs to dancing like some spastic marionette - it's all he can do not to fall to the ground, never mind shoot or cast. Rolls:
Tomasz collapses to one knee, his old bones too frozen to do more than lock up while his muscles shivered. Rolls:
Currently sick - will get a post up when I can.
Well, if nothing else Tomasz could perhaps make a crater. This time, it's no small ticking device he throws, it's a simple grenade. Rolls:
"This thing, I question the utility of shooting it!" Tomasz cried out, while frantically working through options in his head. He did not think he possessed the skill to dismiss something of this magnitude, but perhaps... perhaps he could weaken Heydrich's control. He again produces one of his little devices, winds it, and throws it outside his circle of salt. Actions: Activating Rebellious Totem, in the hopes of it stopping Heydrich's control over the thing. CL 6
Tomasz curses softly to himself in Polish, slowly backing up and keeping his head on a swivel. Sausage-like fingers moving surprisingly deftly - he'd been made to practice this maneuver many times, when he first joined the Biuro Szyfrów - he pulled a large packet of specially-prepared salt out and tore it with his teeth. He spun, trailing it in a wide circle around him - hopefully, it would ward off the worst of Heydrich's creature. Hopefully. Actions: Using Tomasz' Abjurant Salt as a full-round action
Tomasz glanced around him, frowning with eyebrows suddenly tightened by the cold, and reached into his coat and made a wrenching motion. The sound of ticking, metronomic, like a dozen clocks in counterpoint, filled air that was lent a certain weight. Actions: Casting Totem of Expulsion using Alchemical Engineering to cast at CL 6.
Totem of Expulsion: All non-native outsiders (including allies) within are sickened (no save) while they remain inside the area of the totem. In addition, they receive a penalty to any damage reduction, energy resistance, and spell resistance they possess equal to your caster level. Energy immunity is also affected: treat immune creatures as having a resistance equal to twice their total Hit Dice, then subtract your caster level asyou would with normal resistance, to a minimum of 0. You can only create this totem on your home plane.
Tomasz has absolutely zero desire to allow Heydrich's working, whatever it may be, to continue. Still keeping his gun pointed at the car, with his other hand Tomasz dips into a pocket and draws a grenade. He pulls the pin with his teeth and overhand-lobs it over the vehicle. Rolls:
I'm honestly expecting him to no-sell Tomasz attack,it just felt out of character not to at least try (Also, I'm sorry that I kinda overrode Katherine)
"Absolutely not." Tomasz says as he draws his gun and fires. That this is more than likely another dream, and that even should it not be the idea of the Hangman not being warded is flatly farcical, doesn't stop him. If it is or he is, so be it. It would be criminal not to try. Actions:
"I don't know, but it does." Tomasz said. "Perhaps we may speak to a nearby rabbi - those skilled in the Hebrew arts may be able to point us in our way and help you calm your mind." So saying, Tomasz began to walk towards one of the nearby synagogues.
"Hm. Disturbing, this is. I..." Ur pna'g xrrc vg hc sberire. Qrfgebl guvf jbeyq. Urgh. Tomasz winces. "My apologies. I, too, am feeling... scattered. Perhaps..." He looks around him. Synagogues, a town hall... a graveyard. As a Catholic, he was well aware he'd likely be unwelcome in any of the Jewish temples, but perhaps the graveyard would provide some cover. "We should... the street, we should get off I think. If we are both..." He shakes his head again and starts walking.
"Can we.. I have no skill with this mind-magic. Is there... are your... the wards. Are they intact?" It's hard to think - like moving through unwatered wine, even as he steps through Prague's ghetto. All the people here... just people. Thin, harried, keeping watch over their shoulders. So different from London, where death comes from above, or his home of Warsaw, where death came from the front lines. Here, it came from behind and it smiled.
Tomasz blinks in confusion, slow to comprehend and slower to turn around. "You feel..." He trails off. "Excuse me. In all of my reading I have yet to find a soul affected by Krantzberg Syndrome who were able to understand what was happening to them. This is..." He trails off again. "I'm sorry. This is troubling." Ur pna'g xrrc vg hc sberire. Qrfgebl guvf jbeyq. This is not the only thing that is troubling. Tomasz looks around him at the ghetto, then turns again to find himself alone - and not himself. Unkind thoughts about prior monarchs pass through, and then... "Yes... something. What?"
In my little mental movie of everything that's happening, the whole world has gone black and white.
Tomasz shivered, a strange sensation ran down his spine like phantasmagorical mercury and for a moment the whole world was shattered, spinning in fragments of black and white. Then the moment passed. Tomasz had to find friends, but what friends did he have in this city? The rebellious Czechs and the Jews had left their safehouse, Tomasz no-longer knew where they were. He could search, perhaps, in the ghetto but could he do so with the patrols? Perhaps the British Embassy? But would they even let him in? Leo was the only other Laundry operative, the only other man he might truly trust in this city. But where was he? He was a man of a thousand faces, he could be anyone. The ghetto, then might be his only option. The ghetto, and then onwards to freedom.
Tomasz nods to himself, hand slipping away from the wound gears. So quick, so easy - it just went to show, even the greatest of sorcerers died like men, if you caught them off-guard. Mind spinning through tracks not his own, Tomasz steps back into a side-street and starts walking through their prearranged exit plan. First, escape the city - the net will be closing fast, with such a public execution. Transportation will be necessary. Whistling to himself, he heads for the truck where they're keeping Kleiner.
Standing off to the side, just a flat-cap above a newspaper, Tomasz runs a thumb up and down the little ticking device he's palmed. He'd considered creating one of his shimmering inertial fields in front of the Hangman's car while it sped at full speed, but had accepted that it would be best to not show their hand too early. So instead he waited, and watched.
No worries! Having recently taken the plunge into DMing myself, I sympathize
Tomasz layed a thick-fingered hand on the shaken musicians shoulder. "Go to a cafe." he said. "Sit in the sun. Watch the young lovers, the children. Write new music. The notes, they will come I promise. Only the pauses you are hearing now."
I'm good to move on.
Unheeding of the present danger, Tomato stepped for wards towards the letter as he thought it through. So the Hangman, he was plan nine a summoning? This letter made it sound as if he was more skilled than Tomasz had given him credit for. And if this entity was still bound to him? That could prove... troublesome. Troublesome indeed. He bent, scooped up the paper. "This assassination, it sounds as if it must precede the concert. To do othermoset would court disaster. I wish only that there were more details on this creature."
Tomasz blinked, recovering. Silently he stepped through the diagnostic routine he'd been taught so long ago, checking for any damage to his wards or geasa. Ach, śpij, kochanie,
It's not the words, it's the rythm and he feels it thrum and resonate with the magic laid on him. Nothing broken. Good. That done, he turns his belated and slightly terrified attention to matters at hand. He'd been present at several summonings before, but nothing quite like this.
Travelling over the next few days, will get caught up and post when I can.
Tomasz winces at the burrowing, twisting in his skull but nods at Richard. "We stand ready when you are." In fact, Tomasz stood ready to do several things, including wall Richard off from reality and blow them all to Kingdom Come, but there was no need to scare the violinist. Any sensible ritualist would have plans to do the same.
Tomasz leans over and whispers to Katherine, "The music, is that what it was? The D Minor Concerto?" Of course, now that the man was beginning to play things could start getting dangerous. He wasn't armed, but Tomasz did have a variety of his little mechanical gadgets secreted about his person and as the violinist raised his bow he reached a hand into his pocket to pre-emptively grasp one.
Library: Tomasz allows Ada her moment - unlike her, he has little gift for picturing structures of equations whole in his mind; he would likely need several hours and sheets of paper before things became dangerous. It was why he worked with mechanical devices - hardly multipurpose, but very dependable. Their research does raise the unfortunate question, however - could Herr Heydrich be planning to attempt this very thing? He did not see the Hangman as a man eager to give up such control, but he was a Nazi. Who was to say what depths he was capable of?
Tomasz nods, and will go with her if only because this gives him the opportunity to learn something new. "This thought-train, of holding in the head a paradox - it is good, I think, though I do not understand how one could do such a thing. Either something is, or it is not. Even the most creative of abstract mathematics agree on this, else all things that declare 'I am' would be proving false." His accent degenerated as he spoke, his grammar likewise, but that was to be expected when toothing through a problem. True, some things that seemed like not anything at all - emotions, the past, the weight of the human gaze - were in fact things of great importance, but such was just a matter of proving something-ness or disproving nothingness. And true that some things were, in fact, many things at once until they, like a butterfly, could be pinned down, but something that is many things is still something. It was like the riddle they had used to tease new students, what was it? The set that contains all sets that do not contain themselves? But, even this paradox was false. It had been solved years ago.
Also, Sappy, I only *just* saw your PM from a few weeks ago. Man, that little red dot doesn't grab your attention much.
Trying to think if there're any other angles we're missing, since we're not high on time until the rendezvous. - Jewish Underground/Resistance moved safehouses, so probably best to let them contact us.
Anyone have anything else?
Other than sit around and speculate, I don't think Tomasz has any plans until Katherine gets back. He will go check on Kleiner, but you'd mentioned that not being a problem.
"I do wonder - the music, perhaps it is less a key and more a clue? Heydrich, he is scheduled to be performing on the 16th, playing the violin. Mayhaps a copy of the schedule we can find?" Tomasz asks. "That, too, would perhaps explain the oath, if such a performance may beguile the minds of its listeners. The old tales, they are filled of such things. As to your formal logic posit..." Tomasz shrugs/ "I am afraid I know little. Logic is not a popular learning topic, those who would are likely rare. Especially in these war-torn times. Our best bet, perhaps, would be the city's college."
Hm. I'll have to go back and re-read some stuff.
I don't have too much to add to that chain of thought (yet, I'll probably think of something overnight).
"I think it would be best for us to not track them. Trust would not be endeared if we were to find them like that, most especially arriving with new faces. No, best I think to let them be. If they wish to be found they will find us."
"On the one hand, this thing makes sense. On the other, how annoying." Tomasz grumbled. "A woodworking or instrument shop I would suppose is our best next option - though cautious we must be. This piece, it is rare and Heydrich mayhaps has people listening for it. Shall we split up?" If the others are assenting, Tomasz sets off down the street. Should he see a likely local he will stop them to ask for directions.
Am I good to approach the resistance again?
"Nor have I." Tomasz replies. "Perhaps it would be best to ask the old rabbi before we seek out an instrument shop or similar - unless the rest of you have seen some thing."
Waking, Tomasz cracked first his jaw and then his neck. Thinking about their problem was pointless before breakfast - and a shower if he could scrounge the water in the present conditions - so he set about his morning ablations for an hour before returning to the Ahnenerbe's notes. "In this city, where do we find a musician? Perhaps the resistance has someone who can play?"
"We may have need of a violinist." Tomasz harrumphs. "Heydrich himself plays, were this meant for him it would make it awkward at best for anyone else to read it." These Germans, and their over-engineering. When an underling needs to be reading this, do they require Heydrich playing to them in the corner? "Regardless, someone with knowledge of this song I think we still need. I do not have the ability to re-create it with any accuracy. Perhaps even a record player, if such a thing could be found."
Sure, I'll give it a shot. Int at +4. Also, realized I forgot to let you all know - I'll be traveling next week, July 22-28th, and will at best have an extremely limited ability to post. It's possible I'm not able to post at all. Feel free to bot me if I'm slowing things down.
"Hmph. The Germans and their Beethoven." Tomasz muttered. "Agreed, we can ask around in the morning. But this does not reveal the matter of the other two - perhaps sleep will help, but to doubt I profess." Nodding to the others, Tomasz took his leave to sleep for the night.
The pledge was simple, even if the 'heartfelt' part was more annoying. More worrying, though, was the music. "Has anyone the knowledge of what this piece is? Since the War, I have been not so good with hearing." Tomasz asked.
Working by the light of an oil-lamp, Tomasz ruffled the papers between his fingers and listened to the sound of their movement. All around him an opaque dome shivered, buffering the rest of the building against any mishaps and muting the bustle of the city - even in the midst of war, it still lived and breathed. More delicately than you'd expect with his sausage fingers, Tomasz spread a fine magnetic dust over the sheet before applying just the barest flicker of power. Entranced, he watched the dust jump and settle in three, no, four dimensions. This key, whatever it was, moved with time. Nodding to himself, he reaches into his pocket seeking some spare gears. Rolls:
Tomasz nodded at the suggestion - he was still as well-rested as anyone his age could be after the day's excitement, but he anticipated a long night ahead examining the warded documents. Save behind at least one, possibly several, layers of his own wards of course.
Nodding to himself, Tomasz folds up the Terezín report and shuffles it into his pocket. The puzzle of decrypting it could be left for later, once they were all reunited and would not burn down the records room. Although... Tomasz lets the thought slide - better that no-one knew they were there. "You are ready to leave?" he asks Katherine.
I think so. I'd like to take those papers with us, if that's possible - especially the warded one. Cracking that should be fun.
"Now, please." Tomasz growls, trying to keep the man too pressured thinking to question them. |