Dave: *once dave finishes going over his room and checking to see that everythings in shape*
Dave: *obviously he spends a little more time jamming out on his mini turntable*
Dave: no lie i was going to be pretty pissed if a huge angry war god broke my expensive new gear
Dave: alright
Dave: rose is probably going to be pretty similarly pissed when she finds out that we already got attacked by a deva on basically day one of mission dont get attacked by a deva
Dave: idk it was probably pretty much inevitable we were going to
Dave: i mean thats rule number one of adventures right is that like if you hear youre being followed around by like some dangerous motherfuckers
Dave: youre gonna have a brush with them by the end of like the first third of the story at least
Dave: man thatd be nice right
Dave: if like one third of the adventure was like
Dave: the first few hours today
Dave: damn son be back to normal by dinner time
Dave: and we can like stay here and live normal lives or what passes as normal for like
Dave: a city world
Dave: okay time to go warn rose that the devas are more onto us than we thought they were
Dave: *dave winds up and gets ready to take the abyssal stairs*
Dave: *runs up the stairs and*
Dave appears in the middle of a tranquil flower garden. All around are rose flowers.
Dave: okay
Dave: smartass abyssal stairs thats obviously not what i meant
Dave: fine ill try to be more specific and think like
Dave: rosier thoughts
Another jaunt takes him to a bookshop. A third takes him to the outside of a tailor's. A quick, sneaky examination of both locations yields no Rose, although there is a woman who is beautiful otherworldly, face almost perfectly symmetrical, skin pale and opalescent, running the clothing store who he sees through the window.
Dave: (mental note)
Dave: (mack on later)
A fourth landing brings Dave back to his own apartment, and this time, he finds himself fragged into the wall. Luckily, since he is less real than it, it does not actually cause him or the wall any damage.
Dave: okay this is getting ridiculous
Dave: roxy why didnt you warn me about the stairs
Dave: they are like hells of capricious apparently
Dave: alright, next best thing is probably to see if i cant find dirk
Dave: odds are hes probably just magically up to speed on the whole situation anyway but on the off chance hes not
Dave: also i could totally go for a sweet bro bump
Dave: think i forgot to give roxy a hug while she was there which was stupid as fuck
Dave: its been like two weeks since i touched someone that i actually know
Dave: good on her for respecting my perceived boundaries though i guess
Dave: ok, dirk thoughts, dirk thoughts, dirk thoughts
Dave falls through the abyssal stairs, moving his legs to keep pace with it, even though he's pretty sure at this point that the stairs are like a metaphor for something more fundamental and less stupid. It's still a catchy name. He focuses hard on memories of Dirk.
He remembers going out in the boat with him for the first time during his thirteenth summer and net fishing.
He remembers learning to surf and watching Dirk carving up the waves with the effortless grace of someone born to the ocean.
He remembers freaking out the time Dirk kept moving all of the furniture in their house slightly further clockwise every day for a month to fuck with him, then reconciling after almost coming to blows over it.
He remembers tending to Dirk's black eye with a damp rag after an especially rough fight with his Dad.
He remembers sparring with Dirk, learning how to fight back against people who are stronger than him.
He remembers Dirk sitting on the edge of an island cliff alone, looking out into the sunset, probably wondering what lies beyond their tiny world.
Dave reaches a landing, and finds himself standing in a large, dim, cluttered room - a huge interior space for what is probably a warehouse. Along the short wall nearest to him is a huge furnace, hooked into the floor and the ceiling alike by many pipes, which appear to go out through the wall. All around are machine parts, along with one huge machine that is roughly humanoid in nature.
Dave: huh
Dave: bro!
Dave: its me are you around here
Dave: you building sanctum style machines
Dave: haha of course you are thats totally in character
Dave: get the feeling you were basically born to build shit in a garage here just biding your time for the day when some pirate would spirit everyone away to a place your talents arent wasted
A shadowy figure slowly silently approaches Dave from behind as he babbles, creeping over the junk on the floor and then beats him over the head with a blunt metal object.
Dave: uu
Dave: *he goes out like a light*
This shadowy figure, smaller than Dave, starts dragging him away by the collar of his shirt.
We cannot yet see what Nicolas Caledonius is up to. He is after all a man who values his privacy. At least, we cannot see what he does not choose to reveal. Let's see what he chooses to reveal to Rose Lalonde.
Rose: *Rose walks back upstairs, having acquired the package from her patron from the bellman downstairs. It is addressed, but to the address of the shop instead of to her personally. She has nevertheless been expecting its timely arrival.*
Rose: *She opens the package. Inside, are 8 handheld mobile communication devices, each with a different color applied to it, along with a sticky note attached detailing for whom it is meant.*
Rose: *Handheld mobile communication device is somewhat unwieldy terminology, and luckily she already knows the correct slang term for these is "mobile".*
Rose: *She selects the purple one from the box, and switches it on, following the instructions she was given to navigate to a communications application called Cacophony, which it comes pre-loaded with. Her account has already been set up, and she has a friend request, which she quickly accepts, and opens a private message to him, which the client calls a Note.*
Cacophony Notes
This is the beginning of your Notes with @tacticianThaumaturge.
Rose Lalonde: I received the devices at the appointed time and place. So I suppose this means we'll be able to keep up with each other at a much more regular interval?
TT: Alas, it does not. I'm not only a private fellow, but a busy one as well, and while I'd love to spend all day shooting the breeze with an intelligent young lady such as yourself,
TT: believe me, I really would,
TT: I'm simply swamped.
TT: You know how it is.
Rose Lalonde: I don't think I do know how it is, considering I have never practiced more than what amount to paltry magics or helped to administrate the affairs of a world-island.
Rose Lalonde: Fortunately, I have a pretty good imagination and am apparently a destined seer, so I'll take a guess.
Rose Lalonde: I predict that your desk is cluttered with paperwork and arcane inscriptions, and you are currently doing at least five other things on whatever device you're using to communicate, which I predict is a cogitator instead of a communicator.
TT: Close. It's a coffee table.
TT: I find that a lived-in, domestic environment is much superior to a professional office, both as a workspace, and as a venue for hosting guests on the rare occasion that I am afforded the opportunity to do so.
TT: And I predict that you do too, contingent on a second, prior prediction that you have chosen to make yourself comfortable in front of the fireplace upstairs on Bleeker Street.
Rose Lalonde: Was that a guess, or magic?
TT: A lucky guess. I like to consider myself a student of human character, among many other things.
TT: I hope you don't think my guess is presumptuous, although I'm about to make another lucky guess that you do.
TT: You just strike me as rather the sort of person who would get along with cats.
TT: A creature of comfort if you will.
Rose Lalonde: You're right that it comes across as presumptuous.
Rose Lalonde: And a little creepy.
TT: Not so good luck. Will you forgive me for one more bit of presumption?
Rose Lalonde: Are you going to say what you're going to whether I forgive you or not?
TT: Ha Ha.
TT: I suppose I am going to.
TT: You should strongly consider selecting a text color you find favorable.
TT: As well as a customized username rather than just going by your actual name.
TT: As you become connected with more members of my network of associates, group communications will likely start to get longer and more complicated.
TT: Having a shorthand method to tell who is talking at a given time, such as color for example, helps to prevent confusion.
Rose Lalonde: I'll consider it.
TT: I've instructed another of my associates to link up with you immediately. She's a tailor. You should go visit her and get prepared for tonight. I'm sending you an invitation to the event now.
TT: In the meantime, I have one more prediction for you.
Rose Lalonde: Magic, or another lucky guess?
TT: Magic this time.
Rose Lalonde: Should I be more concerned about magical surveillance by you, or your uncanny knack for guessing minutiae about my behavior?
TT: If I am right, you should be able to store those mobiles in a fairly safe space.
TT: As I have already explained, you and your friends are "tinted" by the Abyss. Tinted blue if you will.
TT: This should give you access to some powerful magic which would normally be inaccessible except to practiced sorcerers.
TT: Try to store one of them "nowhere," and then retrieve it.
TT: This form of magic is called Banishment.
TT: Please excuse me, another of my associates has started sending me notes. I have to get back to him, and then back to work.
TT: Good luck, Rose.
TT: Oh, and by the way;
TT: The last question you asked is a very good question.