Success! We're still alive!
>>6110637>>6110603>>6110301The bound up wards and the salt lines held, and vented most of the feedback into the loops to contain it and bleed it slowly. Top notch theoretical sigildry, people. Unfortunately, the wind changed a little and the flurry of sand it kicked across the ward-lines got caught in the matrice and blew out the inhibitors so the water barrels started absorbing vast Threshold locality and flash-converted to two pairs of fragmentary steam-bursts. Luckily, it was all vented away from the practicioners and harmlessly into the desert. If anyone had been standing nearby that would have been like being hit with cannister shot. A bad time.
And look, the blackstone at the centre. It's faintly humming. That's new? That's . . . unprecented! Its absorbed true and pure Potential itself, the very stuff that dreams are made of! Can it even hold it? How? It's . . . changing colour?? Blackstones don't do that, the blackness is because they absorb so much-- nevermind the physics. We're alive!
>>6110610>>6110451Unfortunately, the patient keeps insisting on doing something he has no understanding of, in relation to a thing he has no comprehension of, for reasons he cannot conceptualise and instead of prayer, warding, salt, or seeking assistance with the specialists who has this as a job, this enormously underqualified amateur keeps trying to think he can somehow command the forces of the universe with enough moxie and willpower. And while that's certainly impressive and all, it gets you absolutely not one single shred of leeway out here.
The field collapses back down, the wards are blown out, and Jove has been split out across a multitude of dimensional fractals, his voice reverberating in echo with himself, each blurry hand only tangentially related to the material mundanity we find ourselves embedded with.
Let this be a teachable moment for the Company at large. As the scouts keep saying:
You take the long way around Shimmering Fields.
And if the Iconotheurgic Abjuration Specialists would allow themselves the time to add a few words, it might be something akin to "there is a reason we train for five years to do what we do and have specialist equipment. You can't copy it with raw guts and a plucky attitude, though it's commendable to try. You simply do not know the forces you are dealing with and they do not act like you think they would".
But that's a very long winded way of saying MAKE NO OATH, SWEAR NO DEAL, so we'll simply let it slide.
If you ever find yourself in a situation like this:
WEAR YOUR MASK
CHECK YOUR FILTERS
EAT YOUR PILLS
THINK QUIETLY
And once you're out of it, GET THEE TO A SPECIALIST. The more you feed the Wrack, the more it is fed. The more you are aware of it, or have it in your soul, the larger the hold grows. Acknowledging it at all is the first step towards the root it'll take in you.
Someone get a stretcher for Jove. We'll... well. Maybe it wears off?
