quicktoanger | Second Casefile: Casting Lines [Action/Written]

[Action]

I'd been keeping myself busy for the past week or so, starting when Molly arrived, and had thus far found very little success with anything. There were no thresholds to work with, there were no ley lines to tap into, there were no places rich with magical energy to utilize, and I'd be damned if I was going to try and open a gate to the Nevernever again.

I did not need that bitch of a migraine to come back.

So, along with my apprentice, I began scouting around the village looking for any significant mystical resources. She was also interested in the Filial spirits, but frankly, they sound too much like the Fey for my taste, and I've had quite enough of that, thanks.

Today, however, I was doing something more personally significant. I was going to make myself a new staff, because clearly the old one wasn't showing up any time soon. Unfortunately, this process takes freaking forever, and I had no idea where to start.

So I figured I'd phone a friend.

[Written- filtered from Richard Sharpe 3%] [Hey, he sucks at filters, give him a break.]

Hey. Any and all spellcasters, magic-workers, witches, wizards, and anybody else who knows how to work with magic and spellcraft, I was hoping to get some input on the local situation.

Are there any local magic sources, aside from the Filial spirits, that can be tapped into or accessed? Are any of the local flora and fauna significant at all, mystically? Have there been any difficulties you've had using certain kinds of magic? Anything considerably easier?

In essence- What's the deal, anyway?

[Feel free to encounter him as he surveys the village and surrounding environs- he'll be doing odd things like marking, taking paint scrapings, and making notes on a map- or as he surveys the woods for a tree that will provide adequate wood for his staff.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ it's cool, homey. sharpe's not interested in reading and he barely wants to touch the codework involved with those filters. as it is, he simply assumes dresden is doing what molly had done -- testing them out.

so instead, he'll come across harry on the edge of the town. the rifleman still hasn't found his green jacket and has settled on a soft, worked-leather coat. the greatcoat left behind for worse weathers.

he hails the man from far off. ] G'day!

This bit had been sort of an interesting prospect, and one of my weirder ideas- a circle of circles. More accurately, a selection of landmarks, describing a pentagram within a circle, each marked with a pentagram within a circle in a small, subtle, and unobtrusive location. If this place didn't come with any natural magical flow, I was gonna create some of my own and oh crap that was Richard.

I jerked around at the sound and my knife slipped, slicing my finger as I did so. Not long, but apparently pretty deep, and oh, yeah, it was bleeding. Well, hey, waste not, want not. I quickly dabbed some blood into the circle behind my back, imbuing it with a bit of energy and muttering under my breath, then stuck the finger into my mouth as he came closer.

"Lo Wisharg"

Oh, well done, Harry. I pulled the finger out of my mouth and tried again.

"Hello, Richard."

The soldier had his sword and his palm was heavy on the pommel. The blade itself -- though deep in its scabbard -- looked like it might be a wicked thing. Thick and straight. Fit for a very tall man.

"Out walking?" Mild, mild curiousity.

My, what a big sword you have, grandma...

All the better to execute witches with, my dear.

Sometimes my brain just hates me.

"Oh, just admiring the scenery. It's not a bad place, despite all the..."

I slipped my knife into the wounded hand and gestured vaguely. The injury and the knife went into my pocket.

"But yeah. I actually was grabbing a shaving off this bark when you walked up. Hoping to identify the variety of tree. Seems like they don't all come from the same region, or even the same climate."

Oh, good. Just yammer at him enough that he stops listening. Bravo.

"What about you?"

Shaving bits. Off a tree. Sharpe wrinkled his nose.

"You're not one of them naturalists, are you?" Not that there was anything wrong with that -- Harper, after all, had a thing for bird-watching. But Sharpe couldn't see the point in it. Really.

He left the man's question unanswered while they dealt with this heavy conundrum.

"Sort of a hobby. I'm not, like, fixated or anything, I'm just curious about this place. The really good ones could just take a look at a tree and identify it by the shape of the leaves, right? Me, I need a textbook to work out of."

I fished in my pocket held out the small chunk of bark I had scraped from the tree before I began my carving, displaying it between thumb and forefinger.

That was actually for a drastically different project, one that had nothing to do with botany, but as always, Richard didn't need to know that.

It all seemed a little...useless, to him. But who was he to judge?

"It's an elm, Dresden. Don't need a damned textbook or cutting to tell you that much."

Maybe he had the slight advantage of...working outside. A lot.

"Well, I'd need more than that. I'd need a specific variety, see. I want to work out if this is even a type of elm we have back home, and if so, where. Just... to figure out how this place works."

"You can do that? Figure it out?"

"I dunno. Might be able to find something useful. A weakness, a flaw to exploit. Nobody can think of everything."

A thinker. It stood to reason, Sharpe felt, with what he already knew of the man.

"Then perhaps I'd best leave you to it..."

Well, on the one hand, I felt bad brushing him off. Richard was a cool guy, I liked him. On the other hand, I was carving a freaking pentagram into a tree trunk and I did not need him to know that.

"Right. Catch you some time when I'm a little less distracted, yeah?"

"Aye," he nodded.

But -- there was one more bullet point to address, he supposed. "Found a billet yet, Dresden?"

"A billet."

A billet? Oh, hell's bells, I wasn't up on my Napoleonic-era British slang. Dammit. Um... Some kind of legal service, maybe? Or a barracks. One of the two. Maybe I was thinking of a barrister?

Well, this was just... embarrassing.

"Um. Okay, I'm not gonna lie, that word's fallen out of use in my time. What's a billet, exactly?"

"Quarters. Accommodations."

Kind of like barracks. I was close.

That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

"Oh. Uh. Right. Yeah, I've been in Community house 6. First floor."

... Where I was already setting up a makeshift lab in one of the rooms.

Well. I'd just have to keep that room locked if he came over. Yes.

"Six. First floor..."

He didn't quite know enough to ask for the apartment number. He just wanted to be sure he could find the man should he have a need to.

... Well, crap. Okay, Harry, it'll be fine. He's a good guy. He's not gonna go snooping around and find your magic accoutrements just on a whim.

"... Um. Four. Unit four. Sorry."

And come to think of it...

"What about you, where are you sleeping?"

"...Around," he confessed. Sorta. Quietly. Not willing to own up to the fact that he'd been roughing it outdoors.

Second Casefile: Casting Lines [Action/Written]

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And actually, this reminds me I still need to post to Housing. >.>

rofl. so do i.

Ahahaha. No half-assed answers for Harry.

unlike for sharpe...