2014.03.16 - One Day More

The dim lights and cozy atmosphere in Oblivion is precisely what a certain young man needed. Finally old enough to drink, he is sitting at a table with a glass of Bailey's, swirling the creamy liquid around as he looks at the people who come in and out of the establishment.

He's looking for someone, someone he hasn't seen in a long time. This is the best place he can think of, and so he decides to 'stake out' the bar.

How positively Law and Order of him.

At some length, the doors open in their usual aetherial swirl, and the formally (if somewhat old-fashionedly) dressed figure of one Kent Nelson steps into the room. He gives a polite nod to the dark-eyes barkeep, raising a hand with one finger pointing, and then approaches Keith's table. Standing near to hand, Kent offers a small, soft smile, his dark eyes gleaming a bit. "I see you have come of age to play the medium with spirits," he offers, perhaps hoping to defuse any potential tension with that truly abominable pun.

Vorpal looks up, blinking. He had gone into his thoughts and had missed the gentleman's entrance. "Mister Nelson! I am ever so glad to see you!" the cat says, with relief practically dripping from his voice.

Inclining his head in a suggestion of a bow, Kent says, "Mister O'Neil. I'm pleased to see you again, as well. I'm afraid I've been away on extended business of late." His expression darkens briefly as he notes, "I'm afraid a certain Lord of Chaos felt that playing politics was a good idea. I'm still sorting out the ensuing mess." He shakes this off, though, and gestures to the table. "May I join you?"

"Please! Please... " he waves and pulls at the table to make a little more room. "... the Lord of Chaos? Oh dear." The cheshire frowns for a moment. "... am I beholden to this Lord of Chaos in some way? He doesn't sound like someone whose orders I would want to follow."

A sudden, mildly mirthful expression touches Kent's features as he sits down, letting out a brief bark of a laugh. "Beholden? What an amusing thought--but no, I should not think so. Not unless you've prone to making especially unwise agreements. This particular scamp has quite a mind for mischief and can be occasionally dangerous, but he's really much more a child playing with toys he ought not than a force of evil." Leaning forward slightly in his seat--just as a server sets a Scotch and soda in front of him, which draws a polite nod--Nelson says, "Tell me. How've you been?"

"I've... I've been over my ears in stuff that is way, way over my head." The cat leans back and sips his Bailey's, letting out a long exhalation. "Darkseid... Tony Stark dead... and now I am being asked to do something that's at the very edge of my abilities... yet it's crucial that I do it. Or else things can go horribly bad..." A pause, and then a little smile. "Also, I stabbed myself in the thigh with a soul-sucking dagger, hehe."

Kent's eyes narrow a bit, and he passes a hand through the air between the two of them, palm vertical, which leaves a sort of rippling effect in its wake. Peering at Vorpal through this, he declares, "Soul-sucking blades are nothing to trifle with, young man. You carry the lingering taint of it, still."

He reaches into his coat pocket, producing a small packet, and unfolds it into a square of wax paper with a pile of what appears to be small-crystal rock salt in it. He traces a circle into this with his fingertip, holding his hand over it, and begins to murmur softly in what some might recognize as a high chant of Ancient Egyptian. The salt slowly takes on a faint, wholesome golden glow, and when Kent finally finishes, he slides the paper over toward Keith. "Take this with liquid. It should last up to a week, aiding you in fighting off the infection. See me again after, and I will make certain nothing yet lingers."

This done, Kent settles back in his chair a bit, lifting his glass. Giving Keith a mildly pointed look, he asks, "Now, if you'd please elaborate on this task that will stretch you to your limit?"

I don't recognize "keith".

The Cheshire takes the offered remedy gratefully, "Thank you, Mister Nelson... I didn't have a lot of a choice at the moment. I had a demon coming through a portal that was being fueled through that dagger, which was feeding off someone else's soul. I thought that maybe if I threw a bit of Chaos in the mix, it would destabilize the portal..."

He sits back, and breathes. "I need... to create an illusion of an army. And all of its members moving independently at the same time. That's a level of illusion that is just at the very edge of what I can do..."

Hearing this, Kent nods, and he says, "Noble sacrifice is all well and good, my boy, but even so, I hope the remedy works swiftly. FATE could heal you more swiftly than I am able, but I am as ever reluctant to mingle lightly the energies of Order and Chaos." He lapses into thoughtful silence, then, considering Keith's problem. "I would imagine that Chaotic energy would be of aid to you in this, if properly channeled, as your illusion will not be static. The movements and behaviors of life can appear moderately random, after all."

"That is true... but... where could I get a hold of some of that energy? I'm not entirely sure where my energy comes from, but I know that I can only go up to a certain point..." he gestures with his hands, and Keith ehhs ".. and then that's it."

Kent nods along with this. "A common limit encountered by many sorcerers--perhaps no differently for you," he muses. Tracing a forefinger along the rim of his glass, his expression remains pondersome--until he glances up. "Perhaps, much as a sorcerer would, you can create a BATTERY. Store up your power in advance, having something to fall back on when you must draw on it heavily."

A Battery? Ears perk and he leans a little forward "A battery... how... how does one create a battery?" The Cheshire is all ears. The possibility of not failing the mission driving his curiosity.

"There are many methods," Kent says thoughtfully. "Your method might differ strikingly from my own, but--in essence, you visualize the ideal vessel for housing and maintaining your power. Then, a bit at a time in advance, you fill that vessel with your energies in the most raw yet stable form possible." He gestures vaguely in the air, a few shimmers of light sketching the vaguest diagram of what he describes. "The main difficulty is that the structure must both work in terms of your abilities' physical constraints as well as hold up within your own ability to visualize."

The cat scratches the back of his neck, frowning a litte "I'm not sure I can... do something like that. I mean... you and Zatanna can do all sorts of things with magic, but my abilities seem to be less... versatile than that." He tilts his head. "I can create constructs or illusions... but nothing ever happens when I try to step out of that."

"And what is a battery," Kent suggests, lifting his hand and holding it palm up, the fingers splayed, "if not a construct? It may work. It may not. But consider it." He lifts the hand, lightly stroking his beard. "Failing this, perhaps some manner of amplification circle could be employed. It might enable you to 'stretch' your energies farther without actually using more."

The cat ponders this for a moment. "... it does make sense. The battery may be more useful than the circle, though, since I'll be in the middle of a battleground..."

A purple construct cup appears on the table, and Keith stares intently at it. "So... if I can find a way to put what's in -here- inside of something that can hold the energy... at least for a short while until I need it..."

Nodding, Kent says, "Indeed. That would be the ideal method I can think of--at least, without delving into more specific applications of sorcery." He lowers his hand, tapping his fingers lightly on the tabletop. "Still, I think the theory should be a sound one."

Vorpal looks at the construct, and then dismisses it. "I am going to give it a try. I don't know how long I've got before the mission, but hey-- anything is worth a try, right?" He smiles a little. "Enough about me... how have you been, outside of your issues with Chaos?"

"There is little to tell," Kent says with a light shrug of his shoulders. "I remain, as ever the pawn of FATE. It suits me well enough, save when it frustrates." The corners of his mouth turn up again in a slight smile. "I do not live in the world the same way you do. My life, as a result, generally quite dull." He looks down at the tabletop, smile fading. "And upon occasion, it is quite frustrating. Order could not intervene in the Darkseid matter, let Chaos also be drawn in. Mutual inaction was decided upon, much to my... regret."

"But I was there-- and I'm chaotic!" He pauses, "...and I sort of may have tricked one of Darkseid's sons into blowing himself up with his Omega beams. That's going to come back to bite me in the rear at some point in the future."

"One finds," Kent murmurs, still not looking up, "That the longer one's career becomes, the more such unfortunate entanglements arise. I hope you'll be careful of them, though. As to your magic's chaotic properties, unless you have become a LORD of Chaos, you are not bound be the same strictures as we."

"That... that has got to be very annoying." Keith frowns. "Are you not allowed at all to go out and enjoy a night off?"

"A night off at the Oblivion Bar is one thing," Kent chuckles. "Meddling in the affairs of the Lord of Apokalips is another matter, entirely. We went to the brink this time--Order and Chaos becoming involved would not have stabilized matters."

And there is a visible shiver at the name of Darkseid. "Those Omega beams of his... I nearly got hit by one. I wouldn't be alive if it hadn't been for Superlass pulling me out of the way. I don't know why I'm in the middle of all of this, really. I feel like a paper toy in a candle factory."

Chuckling faintly, Kent remarks, "I can think of a far more famous wizard than I who is to have said 'So do all who live to see such times,' and I can confirm that many of us feel swept up in Great Doings from time to time. What counts, I think, is that we learn from them. And we survive." He shrugs, lifting his glass, "Hardly original advice, I suppose, but it suffices."

The cat smirks a little. "You're being modest. What I am thinking, however..." the cat says, sipping his Bailey's, "Is that I still owe you a peach pie from a while back, and I happen to know they're having a special today at that patisserie."

A pause. "And since I'm an Avenger now, I can actually afford to treat!"

Kent laughs more heartily to this. "Perhaps so. Perhaps not. However, I will certainly not decline the offer of such a delicacy." He lifts his glass, raising it toward Keith, and pronounces, "Cheers."

"Cheers!" The cat says and sips his drink to finish it, and then he stands up. "If we hurry, we might even be able to catch a batch of fresh strudel coming out of the oven." To complete the temptation, he dons a full cheshire grin.

Kent drains the rest of his glass, nodding, and smiles broadly at the notion. "Well, then. Shall we?" He completely breaks character with the serious elder sorcerer to offer Keith his arm, winking, "I think I remember the way, and I'm fairly certain I can persuade the bar to put us down just outside."