Heritage

Hi SG! Always happy to see new faces! So is the idea that she paid money to someone to have a new identity made for her that would be her 'true' identity, but her actual identity is a mystery? Also how old do you see her being?

Lynn scowled at the boozy pirate captain, then began to sniff the air; there was a rather disturbing scent about her, beneath the smell of rum, gunpowder and sweat. Then her eyes got wide and she rose to her feet, suddenly several inches taller with a wild look about her, black talons on the ends of her fingers, and her hair curled up in a mane that revealed her pointed ears. "Why yes, I am a changeling; why do you ask? And why do you reek like a charnel house?!" Suddenly, Gretch was in front of her partner, her hands up in a placating gesture. "Hon, hon, hi! Why don't you take a seat, look a little less terrifying, and most importantly, use your inside voice, okay? As like a fun new game called 'Let's Not Make Anyone Call The Police'. How's that sound?" Lynn stared down at Flintlock for several seconds before her eyes finally met Gretchen's pleading gaze, which began to slowly calm her down; she began to shrink by increments and her claws slid back out of sight as she resumed her seat. Her hair reconfigured into a sort of regal hairstyle that still highlighted her inhuman ears. "Very well; talk." Her voice sounded a bit imperious, like she was used to giving commands. Gretch took a seat of her own, her heart still racing, only now aware that she had flown herself between her partner and the pirate!

Gretchen snorted as she crouched down at the foot of the third cabinet. "Be careful about putting your heroes on pedestals. A genius he might have been, but according to Lynn he was a notorious womanizer who had dozens of illegitimate offspring around the world." She hauled open the bottom drawer and began to flip through the folders. "He bitterly fought all paternity cases, and said horrible things about his accusers in the press. He might have been a hero...but he was no saint." Gretch stood up and put her hands on her hips, and closed the drawer with a wave of her hand. "The files go up to the late Fifties, which fits the known timeline. Ira Silberman disappeared in '57 or '58 on the trail of Wilhem Kantor in South America. His primary focus after the War was tracking down members of the Thule Society who slipped through the Allies' fingers." At Sam's mention of journals and notebooks, she frowned slightly; clearly they had very different ideas about what was important in this room, but she couldn't deny some curiosity about Al-Kazar's methods. "Louis wrote that his father was very protective of his secrets, so I doubt he just left them lying around for anyone to see. Before Lynn built the secret door, this room was pretty easy to find." Then a thought hit her, and she cocked her head to one side as the studied the three filing cabinets. "Before he became a performer, Ira Silberman built furniture. Desks, dressers and cabinets were his specialty. Thurston the Great hired him to build some apparatus, and he became fascinated with it, offering several suggestions on how to improve the mechanism. It changed his life forever." She took a step foward, then smiled and dramatically waved her hand, and all the drawers slid foward as one; despite herself, the Three Gifts were giving the young barista a flair for the theatrical. Gretch approached the first cabinet, and began to roughly measure first one of the drawers, then the cabinet itself with her hands; there was clearly a discrepancy of several inches at the back. Several deliberate thumps with her fingers seemed to indicate something was back there.

Casey quietly nodded, then followed after the older heroine; she basically hopped off the deck and flew low, just above the waves. When she kept her speed down, there was minimal glow from her bioenergy field, perfect for situations like this. Once she got around the rear of the Soviet ship, she gracefully rose up and dropped soundlessly to the deck. Once there, she gave TL a quick thumbs up.

Stealth check: 1d20+10=28

Initiative: 1d20+9=29 Yep, she's fast all right!

Weather control. Greaaaaaat. Casey was now thoroughly drenched, but her spirits were undampened as she floated back down to the deck. "Unfortunately, I only know English and Spanish, so unless they have some Cuban robots onboard, that's not going to help." She sighed and pushed wet hair out of her face. "I'm all for going over to take a look; I never like to assume anyone's hostile, but conking out our electrical systems isn't a good sign. Watch out for ranged attacks!" She turned to TL. "Do you still want to jump? I can give you a lift, if you want."

Lynn's assistant manager chuckled. "We pretty much figured you'd be drooling." She started to head towards the back of the room when she stopped and turned on her heel. "Also I want to put those comments about King in context. First off, I'm actually from Maine, so I'm kind of sick of having him jammed down my throat. But mostly it's because he presents a world in which Absolute Good and Absolute Evil exist, which I don't believe is accurate, and in fact dangerous. And he seems to think that childhood is innocent." And here she actually shuddered, as if from unpleasant memories. "Children are not...innocent. Not by a long shot." Gretchen continued her path to the back, stopped in front of the first of the filing cabinets, and squinted at the fade labels on the drawers. "Lynn's grandfather Louis ran this store for decades, but apparently he rarely came back here. According to the biography he left her on her twenty-second birthday, Ira did keep some sort of files in here, which Louis used for some amatuer sleuthing once in a while." She yanked open the first drawer, revealing many brittle folders and newspaper clippings sticking out this way and that; her nimble fingers danced along the tops of the files as her dark blue eyes scanned the contents. "These seem to be roughly chronological by year, starting in...1917. That's before he even began his professional career." She gingerly pulled out a yellowed clipping and held it to the light. "'Mysterious Fire In The West-End Spares Child'. And there's a blurry, low rez photo of the...charred building." Her eyes met Samuel's. "These are case files. Or at least, events that he felt were strange enough to warrant investigation." Then she took a step back to take in the sheer size of the three cabinets, and a true, genuine smile spread across her lips. "Holy s###..."

"I'll give you back your pistol once we're safely outside the city. But I..." And here Lynn laughed nervously. "I, uh...I don't actually have a car. And I don't think Gretch does either." "Nope." "So we're probably going to have to use magic..." "But not evil magic like in that book." "No, it's faerie magic. Y'know, more like the 'elfin magic' the Keebler elves use to make their cookies." "Just with fewer preservatives." "Right, of course!" The shopkeeper looked a bit uneasy. "Do you have any...problems with faeries?"

Gretchen cocked head to one side as she studied the various parts, as she was wont to do. "It's for something big," she muttered, almost more to herself than anyone else. "Big and heavy. Something you have to build from scratch because it doesn't exist to be stolen, which would've been much easier." Her eyes squinted behind her mask. "Maybe a robot of some kind, or a specialized vehicle. A tool to pull off an even bigger heist, or else a weapon." When Phantasmo began to terrorize their captive, she couldn't help but laugh, a quirk bark of mirth before her usual smirk returned. "You really don't want to piss of a dead man, Cole. You've seen all the movies." She floated over towards the pair and contemplated the undead magician. "Look at that decomposing face. That's the last thing you're going to see before your heart stops if you don't straighten up." She sighed sympathetically. "I'd hate to be looking over my shoulder for that guy."

Casey began to tear into her own pizza with gusto, then thought about Saku's question as she chewed a mouthful. "Mmm, I guess it's kind of boring compared to the Moon, but I'd still like to go to Europe. Fly to the top of Big Ben and the Eiffel Tower, ride in gondola in Venice. See the Mona Lisa." She shrugged. "I know it's kind of a cliche, but I still think it would be cool." But then she pondered her friend's earlier statement and frowned. "Mmm...I do not think my dad would sign off on the space trip, now that I think about it. Or at least not without a lot of convincing." She sighed and took another piece. "Maybe if I first show him I can go overseas and prove I won't die or get pregnant, then space won't sound so bad. Either way, I should start working on him now." The blonde teen giggled, then showed Saku her biggest puppy dog eyes and 'sweetest little girl in the world' smile as she clasped her hands and practiced. "'Daddy, can I pleaaaase go into outer space? I've been getting all A's in all my classes!'"

Thanks for going along with that; I've been finding all kinds of interesting uses for that link. I think Sam and Gretch make a fun team!

If you asked Gretchen, or even most people who knew her, they would all agree she wasn't really a 'people person', but at her core she had self-confidence, a sharp wit, and she knew how she was built. This meant she actually had some charm to turn if she really wanted to; she just normally couldn't be bothered, especially with pinheads like Alec Card. But she knew he couldn't resist the challenge of winning her over, and wouldn't question his ability to do so. However, it was dangerous to leave Sam out of loop, as well as unfair; she was probably scared ####less that Gretch was under his thrall. But how to bring her on board without showing her hand? Then an idea hit her, and she opened a mental channel to her partner, Lynn. -Hey.- -Hey! How's the case going?- -It's definitely going. I need you to do me a favor.- -Of course, whaddya need?- She trusted the changeling in a way she did few people, which was one of the reasons she loved her. Wow; when was the last time she could say that? But right now, there was work to do, and that meant keeping up the act, so she rolled her eyes and shook her head, the way Sam had seen her do countless times at work. "You literally won't let me have a good time. Thanks for that. It must suck to have all the joy sucked out of your life." Just then, Sam's cellphone vibrated, prompting Gretch to sneer with disgust. "Let me guess, it's Lynn texting again. Please tell your ex to kindly go #### herself." And then she turned to join Alec and the rest of the band. Meanwhile, a text from Lynn actually had shown up on her phone, but its contents were surprising; it was rapidly followed by a few others.

A fun idea has occured to me, though i won't be able to post right away. Gretch can communicate with Sam indirectly, using Lynn as a sort of relay; she sends a message to Lynn via the Communication Link in her Ring of Power, then Lynn can send a normal text to Sam's phone, and vice versa! What do you think?

Not that I'm in any position to be pushy, but I'm curious to see Alec's reaction.

Okay, I hope this is cool, but Lynn is suggesting they take the book to Rusty's Ranch, a bit of property her family owns in a remote corner of Jersey. It's not so far away from the shore that aquatic things can't show up, but it's safer for innocents while still having plenty of atmosphere for horrific events. Hope that works for you, or we can try something else. Not trying to hijack the thread, I swear!

Flintlock's statements didn't go over super-well with the crimefighting duo, though they were starting to see a certain inevitability in the situation. -We've both seen the same movies. We know how this works. There's a forbidden tome, a group of stupid pretty people read from it, and the forces of Hell rise up to kill them. We are those stupid pretty people.- -Ah, but then sometimes another group of stupid pretty people need to read a different spell to close a portal that's already open; how do we know the bad s### hasn't already happened, and we're the clean-up crew?- -Um...you have me there.- -Plus if you lived your whole life based on movie logic, you'd never get anything done, and we of all people can't sit on our asses at times like this.- -A valid point. Also neither of us is blonde, so we should survive the whole movie.- -True!- Lynn and Gretchen turned to face Flintlock at the same time, their minds made up; the changeling folded her hands on her desk, and her partner stood by her side. "Okay, we will help you with your stupid drunken plan, because we work at a bookstore and that's how we roll. However, certain precautions will be taken; we will not be reading the book here at the store, where innocent lives will be endangered. We will go somewhere remote, so when the s### inevitably hits the fan the way it always does with magic, it will go to s### on our terms." "You thinking Rusty's?" "I'm thinking Rusty's. Oh, and tell me you dropped a button at McCreepy Guy's place so we can keep an eye on him?" "Always, always." She pulled a handful of conjured buttons out of her back pocket and held them out in the palm of her hand. "See? Plenty of bugs." "Good, good." She turned back to Flintlock. "So, are our terms acceptable?"

Okay, if you feel it's cool without an HP, I will do so; Grim will also suggest a change of venue for reading the book, which might be fun.

Knowledge: Technology check: http://orokos.com/roll/401203 1d20+10= 23

Ooh, I just realized I made a tactical error! Can I spend an HP to say that Lynn gave Mr. Smith a conjured business card so she can eavesdrop on him? Or that Gretchen planted a 'bug' of a similar nature when she was in his room? The latter might be easier, as it might not require an edit of a previous post.

Nodding in response to the Chief, Casey placed her glasses in a pouch on her belt, removed her life vest and shook out her hair as she took to the air. After several seconds of scanning, she hesitantly made her report. "Okay, this just gets weirder and weirder; I think we've got a Soviet ship out there, manned by...either people running really high fevers, or they're not even human." She shook her head. "And I think they may be getting ready to discharge either a pulse or some sort of electrical burst weapon." She looked concerned. "Be ready for anything, I guess."

Casey laughed heartily. "No, you definitely speak another language, I just hope that someday I'm fluent!" Then she pulled out her phone and placed a call to La Dolce Vita in the Mall. "You know what, I think I'm going to get a sausage stuffed pizza instead; do you still till want the deep dish, and if so, what do you want on it?" After the order was placed (the pies would be ready in about half an hour, more than enough time to fly over and pick them up), the teen powerhouse put her cell away and returned to the conversation at hand. "Well you know I'm all in; let me know if you need any help with construction or any kind of testing; this will be a lot of fun!"

"I am Gret- oh, forget it," said the young assistant manager as she shook her head; she could tell when someone didn't really give a crap. At the mention of the Cthaat Aquadinge, Lynn frowned and exchanged a look with Gretch, along with some telepathic conversation. -Whaddya think, can we trust her? She seems too drunk for proper scheming.- -I do my best scheming when I'm wasted. But I think we can trust her. I think.- -Alright, here we go.- Clearing her throat, the changeling took a seat behind her desk. "As a matter of fact, we do, though my gut tells me we should probably destroy it; it's certainly not for sale, if you're looking to buy it." Both women eyed Flintlock carefully, watching for her reaction, and Gretchen fiddled with her Ring, though she dare not turn it yet.

The room itself was not large, maybe ten feet across and fifteen feet deep, but what it lacked in size it more than made up for in terms of sheer volume of stuff; a quick count yielded twelves bookshelves of different makes and sizes, several of which went all the way up to ceiling. Most of the shelves were crammed full of books and ledgers, though several shelves bore jars, boxes or small chests. Those few spots on the walls not covered with books held colorful posters announcing shows at venues like the Egyptian Hall in London and the Steel Pier in Atlantic City. There were also three massive wooden filling cabinets along one wall, and five great steamer trunks near the back, crusted with with a thick layer of shipping labels from around the world. And in the far right corner, under the cloths, there were props, glorious props: a beautiful enameled disappearing cabinet, a rack of swords in various styles, and turned away from the visitor as if in embarrassment, the Mirror of Al-Kazar itself in its gilded frame, the arabesque scene on its back handpainted in Paris in 1923. Even Gretchen stood quietly with her hands primly folded in front of her, as if in reverence; she said nothing, and just gave the magician some time to soak it all in.

Gretchen nodded as she took a sip of her coffee, seemingly impressed. "Good call." She helped herself to a pair of gloves, paused, and then pulled out a few more and stuffed them into her back pocket for later. Then she looked over to Lynn, who was sitting at her desk savoring a sticky pile of conjured cinnamon rolls. "Aren't you going to be-" She snapped on a glove. "Suiting up?" Lynn snorted around a mouthful of cinnamon delight. "F### that! Someone's gotta be out on the sales floor, workin' her sweet ass off." Gretch looked crestfallen. "So then I lose out on my commission? That's completely unfair." The changeling shrugged. "No worries, I'll give all my commission to you; in fact, why don't we-" A swirl of mist, and then she was an eerie replica of the snarky barista; tats, disdainful expresion and all. "Do it this way?" She rolled her eyes, crossed her arms and sighed. "Why would you want to buy that? Stephen King is an idiot. Read Edgar Allen Poe instead." The real Gretchen chuckled nervously, still unnerved by some of her partner's abilities. "Don't be me. I want to actually earn something for a change." She indicated 'Gretchen's' left hand with a nod. "You missed the Ring, by the way." The fey held up her unadorned hand and sighed. "I know. Can't do metal, remember? Limits of my glamour. Suppose I could try and fake it with wood or plastic, but it wouldn't hold up under scrutiny." Lynn finally resumed her own shape, much to Gretchen's visible relief. "Thank you." She indicated a bookcase behind her with a jerk of her head. "Can you get the door, please?" Lynn nodded vigorously as she stuffed an entire cinnamon roll in her mouth. "Mmmm! Morry abou' tha'." Without even looking, she gestured back over her shoulder, and several books melted into vapor, revealing a metal handle and digital keypad beneath. Gretch blocked Sam's view with her body (hey, you don't learn the code on your first day!), then there were several rapid beeps followed by a dull thud as heavy bolts slid back inside the mechanism. Grasping the handle firmly, the assistant manager hauled the bookcase and the massive steel door behind it open, swinging it smoothly on well-oiled hinges, and a puff of stale dry air greeted them. Beyond, energy efficient fluorescent bulbs flickered to life, revealing several bookshelves and mysterious shapes hidden under dust cloths. "Behold the Cave of Wonders. Enter if you dare." There was actually a hint of warmth in Gretchen's usual smirk; she knew exactly how much this meant to Sam.