Smoke AQ for Shielding
GM: Slinger
Players: Smoke
Synopsis:
Smoke undertakes an astral quest to the Metaplane of Nature to seek out the knowledge of Shielding. He again faces the difficult choice he made of family versus his own path… and then raises a boy from baby to manhood through the course of the Quest.
Date: Mar 13 2070

Preparation

Smoke having finished his studies prepares to set out on another astral quest. He usually uses his own lodge and is guarded by his trusted friend Kelris. This time Kelris isn't around and he takes his chopper to the High Arcana to see if they have the facilities that he needs.

Facilities? There is a room upstairs that can be used, with a certain white striped tiger who can keep watch over you. Slinger is there, and the elf greets his friend. "Yeah, you're good. Just pull up a mattress in the corner, and Ourrez'll keep you safe. And I promise not to do anything to your body while you're away," he adds, with an impish grin.

He's prepared himself with a light fasting and brings his tanto that he calls his talon with him. He smirks at Slinger and looks at the tiger. Speaking to the tiger he laughs a little, "Don't let Slinger draw on me. Everybody thinks I look cute in makeup and it is not funny." He sits on the mattress and stretches a little, drawing out the tanto to place it in his lap. He looks up at Slinger. "See you when I get back." He closes his eyes and leans against the wall, his head drooping as he drops out of his body, his spirit self stretching it's wing out wide to seek the window leading to the dweller.

Smoke has prepared himself with a light fasting and brings his tanto that he calls his talon with him. He smirks at Slinger and looks at the tiger. Speaking to the tiger he laughs a little, "Don't let Slinger draw on me. Everybody thinks I look cute in makeup and it is not funny." He sits on the mattress and stretches a little, drawing out the tanto to place it in his lap. He looks up at Slinger. "See you when I get back." He closes his eyes and leans against the wall, his head drooping as he drops out of his body, his spirit self stretching it's wing out wide to seek the window leading to the dweller.

"I don't wear makeup," Slinger points out, with a smirk. "And it looks stupid on guys. Unless they're on stage or somethin' Good luck, my friend." The elf says that sincerely enough, and at least for the moment, helps Ourrez with overwatch while he studies… something or other. Looks like a lot of diagrams.

The Dweller

The astral realm itself is close enough to be familiar. But this is a journey to the metaplanes. The trip there is dizzying, confusing, with images flying by, each of them a gateway to another word — a world of thought, imagination. And then, you are in darkness. The scent of the air carries the smell of the night, of the forest, mixed with the ambient sound of the wind lightly whispering through the trees. And yet, it is dark.
And then, a beam of moonlight seems to cut through the trees, and there, standing in a clearing, is Aesenka. He takes a step forward, his eyes piercing into yours. "Where have you been, Tijenko?"

Smoke looks back on Slinger and Ourrez as he shifts through the astral looking for the dweller. His body is smoke and feathers shot through with coils of silvery light. In his left hand is the dim light of the talon. He laughs feeling the freedom of leaving his body behind. When the shift begins and the metaplanes fold over him he concentrates, preparing himself for the test that always comes. The moonlight flashes and Smoke startles at the sight of his brother. His own form somehow having shifted to look like his material form. "I have been finding out who I am brother. The journey has been complex."

"She weakened you," your brother says, with a faint sneer. A spider creeps out from some hidden place, and perches on his shoulder. A familiar, perhaps. Ally spirit. Or something more sinister. "You used to be powerful. Now you have given up that power, that strength, letting yourself be /limited/ by what they want." He is speaking English to you, continuing the insult from the last time he spoke to you. "Who you are is my brother. You should come home."

Smoke tilts his head, eyes catching the spider. "She made me stronger in some ways brother, she says she loves me. I am still strong and I am not going back to that servitude. You kept me as a slave too long." He makes a fist with his right hand, but keeps it at his side. "I kept to the promise until mother passed. I am free to choose now. I chose to travel my own path."

"Straight from one woman who makes you week to this one… who is not quite so weak. Of course, the other company you keep is taking care of that nicely." He steps forward, walks slowly around you, with amusement. "That elf, for example. What a pussy. And he thinks you are 'hot'," he adds, with a wave of his hand. "How weak and pathetic!" he scoffs.
But at your second coment, he whirls around. "You made a promise to mother, yes. But what of the implied promise to your family? Family comes first! There is obligation. Our father sacrificed everything for us. Don't you /owe/ him for that?"

Smoke stirs and his head turns to follow his brother as he speaks. "My friends help shape my path as I move beyond that thralldom that you created for me. I was just a tool to you. Obligation is only to be given to a worthy ideal. You are a cheap peddler of flesh and bullets Aesenka. If father would ever open his eyes to a sober day he would scoff at the mess you've made of things." Smoke looks at the ground. His voice when he finds it fully is intense with emotion. "The debt I owed was paid with fifteen years of being your magical bitch. No more, not ever do you understand me? I am free to do as I will."

Your brother smirks as he steps forward, and takes the spider from his shoulder, holding it on a finger. "You think you are strong?" he asks, with a sneer in his voice. He reaches out to place the spider onto your shoulder — and then it divides, and divides again. You can feel the spiders starting to crawl on you — and it is easy to remember when you were younger, when he did this to you once before, after you refused him. "Come back to me, and I will take them off of you…"

+ Dweller Test

Smoke closes his eyes to slits, focusing and telling himself it isn't real. They are nothing. There are no spiders. It is just the cruelty that his brother uses to manipulate.

It is an excruciating eternity, and yet it could have just been a few seconds. And then your brother — and the spiders — are gone.
Wind rushes past your face, through your feathers, as you coast though the night sky on your wings. There is hunger gnawing in your belly, hunger that demands that you eat soon. You are a predator, though.
And down below, movement.

Place of Knowledge

Smoke banks on the wind and circles, his eyes roaming to catch the movement as he spirals lower and then plunges down to strike silently. He is a hunter, always the nocturnal predator. His eyes flash brightly in the moonlight attempting to discern what manner of prey he will feast on tonight.

The prey is soft and pink — and best of all, helpless. As you bank toward it, your bright, sharp eyes can see it wiggling there, helplessly on the ground. And then it takes a breath — and begins to wail, a piercing sound. Sobbing and crying out. A child. A baby, really. A young one, lying there in the forest, barely swaddled in a ratty old blanket. With no one around.

Smoke beats his wings swifty, catching the wind to slow his descent. He circles low and looks at the surrounding area and then lights on the ground near the child. He cocks his head to the side and blinks his eyes looking at the child closely. His head spins first to the right and then to the left making sure this isn't a trap, body tensing and wings ready to fly.

If it is a trap, it is a hard one to spot. The child is as white as the noonday sun, hardly of any native ancestry. And yet, here he is, alone in the forest. He opens his mouth again and wails, squirming, as he stares toward the owl. And then, extending a hand, the boy-child reaches out toward the fluttering owl. "Birdie!" it manages to say.

«OOC» Smoke says, "Can I speak, or I am in more serious solid owl form?"
«OOC» Slinger says, "You will have trouble speaking English. But you can speak the Language of the Owl."

Smoke flutter hops to get closer to the child, looking into its eyes. He looks around again, no parents, no tribe. Cocking his head to the left he beats his wings and hoots at the child, trying to get it to cease crying out. In the language of his kind he says, "Quiet little one. The forest at night has many dangers."

Whether or not the child understands you is unclear. Your words emerge as a series of hoots and trills and an almost-purr that apparently, the boy finds comforting. "Birdie," he says again, more quietly, in that piping child's voice, and reaches out to gently stroke over the soft, downy feathers away from your wings, unafraid of your sharp talons or your dangerous beak. The child, now that you are closer, appears to be under two years old, just barely able to crawl or speak. And probably hungry.

Smoke trills again to the child, telling it, "I will return with food." and hops back taking flight immediatly looking for prey that might feed such a creature. Sustaining this life seems important somehow. His eyes scan the ground for rodents or rabbits, the easiest of targets.

+ Smoke's Stealth Roll

Winging silently throught the air, you see a rabbit, out in the field. Hop! It bounces along, cutely, lifts its head, but seems utterly oblivious to the death flying above.

Smoke doesn't hesitate and dives silently at the rabbit, his talons extended. The talons rend fur, his beak swiftly slashes the creature's throat ending its life. His wings beat furiously to gain altitude as he climbs back up into the night, searching for the child again. He spots the waif and lands near it again, tearing strips of meat for the youngling to eat. "This meat will sustain you little one."

Place of Battle

As you return back in a wide arc, the dead rabbit twitching and finally lying still in your sharp talons, a sound reaches your sensitive ears. There is a soft growl, and then a whining-bark. You know that sound — a wolf. And then, a chilling sound, innocent, coming from the little boy's lips. "Doggie!"

Smoke turns and faces the wolf, interposing himself between it and the child his wings beating wildly. The wolf is another predator and the child could easily fall prey to it, just like him taking the rabbit.

The wolf lunges forward. It is hungry, and the child looks like easy prey. And it is… until suddenly, out of nowhere, the owl backwings down in front of it. The wolf snaps at the creature, confused for a moment by the swirl of feathers and the angry sound of its wingbeats. But soon, it attacks…

+ Initiative
+ Wolf's Attack

Smoke beats his wings at the last second getting up above the snapping wolf's bite. He rakes down with his talons catching the snarling beast across the face drawing dark lines of blood. The wolf yelps and spins in retreat, the owl beating its wings and calling out loudly to spur the wolf on.

The wolf flees into the forest, retreating from this dark nasty feathery thing that was interfering with it having a good meal. The child blinks as you return, and reaches out to embrace your body, tenderly. Gratitude pours from him, as he reaches out to accept the strips of raw meat, and he eats them, then leans in to embrace the figure again. "Daddy!" says his small, piping, child's voice.

Place of Knowledge

And then, as the child pulls back, he seems to have grown a great deal, and he looks up at you from his young face. This time, he looks frustrated. "I still can't get it, Dad," he says, shaking his head. "It doesn't make sense!" He stares at the spell components in front of him, with a look of frustration.

Smoke looks at the spell components and tilts his head. "I can help you."

+ Magic Background Test

As you demonstrate and explain it, the light in the boy's eyes seems to dawn, and he reaches out, grasping the components and carefully manipulating them. He is learning so fast, and the way he looks up at you, with adoration, with respect for your wisdom, and for your time with him, that brings forth emotions that might never have been felt before. "Soon I will be ready to join the tribe…"

Place of Destiny

"You will be a fine edition to the tribe." He clicks his beak at the boy and makes a whirring sounnd in his throat. He cocks his head and stares into the young boy's eyes, blinking. "I am proud of you."

The youth beams with pride, then runs out of the small hut that he is sharing with you. And then, he runs back a moment later — and he is older than he was before, a boy of fourteen, fifteen, beginning to develop muscles. Strong and handsome, bare-chested like the other boys his age. "They say I cannot join," he states, with a look of anger on his young face. Sullen and defiant. "They say that I do not have a real father!" His eyes turn to the owl who has raised him. "I told them, but they would not listen!" The youth is frustrated as he sits down on the floor. "They… the other boys are calling me names, too. I just… I don't want to choose between you and them!"

Smoke tilts his head and looks carefully at the boy. He concentrates and tries to shift his form, so that he can look human. He doesn't want the boy to suffer ridicule and taunting. "If I cannot shift my shape boy I want you to go to them. They are your people. I am your guardian and protector, but you don't need to choose between us. I will always be nearby to guide you. Those boys don't understand magic like you do. You are special. Go, go play."

+ Magic Test

It takes a lot of your energy, and it is draining. But before the eyes of your stunned boy, you shift into your human form, transforming into the handsome visage of a warrior that you represent in your more mundane body. The youth's jaw hangs open. "I did not… did not know you could do that." Of course, how else could you have built these things, this home? Yet he has never seen you transform before.
The boy swallows slowly, then smiles. "Would you… would you go speak to them, Father? Convince them?"

Place of Charisma

Smoke nods to the boy. "Yes I will speak with them." He ruffles the boy's hair and claps him on the shoulder, walking out of the hut with him in the direction of the other young men. He walks with his head up high, proud of his son, proud that he could help the boy feel whole and not apart from. He squares up and smiles at the cluster of boys playing in the clearing. "I am this boy's father. I have the ability to change form as I wish. It is a gift of the spirits. We who are awakened are special among the tribe, but we are also the same as you. Include my boy. He wants to have fun like you do."

+ Etiquette Roll

The boys turn and openly stare at this handsome example of warrior-dom, and then they slowly move closer, looks of shock and awe on their faces. There is a growin respect for your boy, and they clap him on the shoulder and pull him off with them. "Come, join us!" And as they depart, you hear one of them whisper, "Your father is amazing! I never knew…"
Then, though, there is the sound of an older voice, clearing its throat. Three older men approach, with stern expressions. Looking at you, with narrowed eyes. "Who are you?" they want to know.

Smoke looks at the three men carefully, holding himself tall. "I am Tijinko Redsky. I have changed my shape so that my son might better fit in with the tribe. I am a shaman. Owl is my totem." He holds his gaze steady during the introduction.

The men step forward. "You are not one of us, though, and therefore your son is not one of us. You claim to be shaman, but you are outsider. Tell us why we should accept your boy to be one of our tribe. There is more to tribe than appearance. There is more to family than simple relations."

Smoke nods to them his hands held at his sides. "I found this boy alone in the woods. He was abandoned, but he has grown into a strong you man. He desires to be a part of the people. He deserves a chance to have a good life. He is brave and he is honest. His magic will benifit the tribe." Smoke looks at each of the men in turn. "He will add a bright spirit to your people and he will share in the responsibility that comes with age. I have showed him love and caring and he will spread that, helping make the tribe stronger than it was before."

The men listen to your words, then look after the boy — who is now playing with their sons, their grandsons. The other boys of the tribe. What you say is both wise and true, one can see in their eyes. One of them slowly nods, then speaks to the others. "You have protected this boy his whole life. You have taught him, and now you may no longer shield him. He will have to shield himself, protect himself as he grows into a warrior. "He will be part of the tribe… as will you, if you so choose, shaman of Owl."

Citadel

The men turn and walk away, leaving you alone in front of the hut. And yet, it seems like only a few moments later when your son returns, now a young man of perhaps sixteen, seventeen. His face is decorated with the paint of a successful Hunt, and he grins, full of pride and that youthful charm that he has always had. But now, he has grown into a handsome man. "Father! Did you hear? I got a boar! There'll be a feast tonight!"

Smoke smiles at the man, pride beaming in his eyes. "Congratulations son, you are a true hunter now." He nods in approval and says, "I will come and feast with you. But instead of sitting with me tonight, sit with the other hunters and celebrate your triumph. You are no longer a boy, you have become a man."

"I shall," the boy says, with confidence. "But first, I will sit with you." He looks a little nervous as his hand slides to his belt-pouch, and from it he withdraws a rolled cylinder of tobacco. He hesitates, then offers one to you, then takes the other, as if daring you to object. He is a man, now, and this is part of proving it. "But you will be there, yes?" he asks, with that lopsided grin. "Because everyone will know I am your son… and that you have taught me well. Thank you…"

Smoke picks up a candle from the table and lights the cigarette and then holds the flame out to his son. "I will be there. I wouldn't miss it for the world." He blows the smoke straight up into the air. "And I would like that, you sitting with me for a time. Thank you as well, and thank you for the tobacco." He takes another drag on the tube, not needing to say anything more, just enjoying the moment.

Your son speaks to you, telling you the story of the hunt, while he smokes with his father. It is one of those moments that redefines the relationship, going from being one protected by you, to instead, an equal. And yet, during all of those, that intense feeling of protectiveness for this boy has not truly waned… and that feeling, that intensity of protective instinct… suddenly, that makes sense as a way to channel your magical energy, as a way to shield yourself and others from harm.
Slowly, the scene fades — until you are hurtling back through the tunnel of images… and back into your mundane body.
Nearly a day has passed, and Slinger is there when you awaken. "Right on schedule," the youth says, with a grin, glancing at his wrist-chrono.

Denoument

Smoke opens his eyes and looks at Slinger, goosebumps racing over his skin from the feelings that linger. "Wow…" he says quietly. Sometimes these dreamwalks teach you more than you bargained for. "You got a cigarette? I really need another one."

The elf chuckles. "It's suspended animation. You aren't supposed to feel the addiction. But I always do. Another one?" he asks, as he pulls a fresh cigarette from his pack, and offers the unfiltered cylinder to the other man. "Wanna talk about it?" he asks, as he lights another for himself, then holds out the flame to the Native man.

Smoke takes the cigarette, "Yeah but I am gonna need some coffee, gonna let that all sink in and through me." He stares at the cigarette and then lights it. "And I wouldn't mind just hanging out some. You ever wonder what it would be like to raise a kid?" he blows the smoke up and away as he gets to his feet. He glances at Ourezz and smiles, then looks at Slinger. "Thanks for letting me come here for this. I was a little nervous about it, but everything worked out fine."

Slinger draws hard on his cigarette. "I'd make a lousy Dad, I think. Hell, there are times I don't want to grow up, myself. Kid'd end up smoking and covered with magical tats by the time he was fourteen, I figure." He smirks. "And probably just as bad as me. Which is pretty bad. But I don't gotta worry about it. I'm not likely to get a girl pregnant anytime soon. One advantage of liking boys." He swings his legs a little, casually, while he thinks. "Were you a Dad in the Quest?" he guesses.

Smoke nods, "Got to be with the kid from infant to manhood, I think he'll always stick in my head. Didn't ever really get his name either. I just called him son." He shivers a little.

"Damn. Yeah, that would've been something. Quests are so… /real/, is the thing. And they seem to draw from everything within us that is vulnerable, that is uncertain. Things we never dared explore, a Quest makes us confront." He smiles. "You may see him again. And I bet, if you really asked yourself, you know his name. Because so much of what comes in the Quest is from within you. But I still think… they're real, in their own way. I have a recurring series of them, with a boy." He shivers. "In the Quests, we're lovers. From boy to man and back again. Not your boy, just in case you wonder. Unless yours wears a blindfold."

Smoke smiles and shakes his head. "No he was, well I remember that he wasn't native, but I helped him become part of the tribe. I think I might need to think about it for a while. I am sure I know how shielding magic works now. Odd how that worked out, sort of metaphoric for the relationship." He shakes his head a little. "Makes me want to have kids actually, maybe some day when this wild ride settles down." He takes another drag. "Yeah, it was real, they are all real. And Slinger, I saw my brother. I sort of forgot about him on purpose. I might have to go deal with him after a bit."

"Your brother?" he asks. "Huh. Didn't know you had a brother." He grins lopsidedly. "Is he as cool as you?" he asks casually. He leans back in the seat he's occupying, draws another cloud of smoke into his lungs. "Quests are about choices, a lot of times. Even when it seems predestined, it's only because of who you are. You had plenty of choices, did you not? And those choices affected things. If you had chosen differently, then things would have worked out differently."
The elf knocks his ashes off into an ashtray, one of many that Page keeps around the place. Page is the only nonsmoker in the group.

Smoke shakes his head, "Nothing like me. That's the problem." He taps his ash as well. "I will tell you about him another time, don't want to blow this great mood right now." He grins at Slinger. "Let's brew some coffee or something."
page revision: 1, last edited: 14 Mar 2010 09:40
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