Tarot and Obsidian
----------------------

(Obsidian returned Tarot's message, stating that he would meet her, alone, under truce, at the
Areopagus. Tarot consulted with Benedict, and sent a letter back suggesting that the truce
conditions be enforced by a gentleman of her acquaintance of unimpeachable honour: this was
refused, and the original statement made again: that Tarot come on her own, or not at all. After
discussion, Benedict obtained a Trump of Tarot from Martin, and Tarot went into the meeting
with Benedict holding a link open to her...)

(Tarot)
A tall, lean woman, wiry in build, her skin a pale bronze: thick dark crimson hair is caught back
to her head in a high knot by a few ivory combs, gold-edged, that echo the gold of her eyes under
thin dark brows. High cheekbones and a wide mouth give her a permanent air of faint amusement.
Her expression is calm, curious even, but behind the eyes a slight uncertainty is shadowed, cool
detachment flawed by a lack of surety. She is slender in loose ivory cotton robes that drape round
her, sashed by wide bronze silk: the sleeves fall to hide her hands, and the wide hood is pushed
back: her sandals are comfortable leather ones. Her face is angular, all planes and shadows, and
her movements are carefully restrained. A fresh scar runs across the palm of her right hand and
up the forearm, cutting through a black and white tattoo that covers the palm: the index finger
of her right hand is missing. Another curliqued tattoo in black and gold runs across the back of
her left hand.

Areopagus Crater, Mars
     Like a scene from some Grecian inferno, this area is surrounded on all sides by the sheer cliffs
of the crater walls, seared smooth as glass by the terrific heat of the furnace deep within the core
of the volcano. The heat has long subsided to a sweltering temperature that raises beads of sweat,
but the effects still linger, bizarre shapes formed from the molten rock rising from the smooth,
puckered surface of the crater. Steps are carved into the walls, providing the only way in or out
of here besides the sky.
     What draws immediate attention, however, is the large flat area in the very centre of the
volcanic basin, a section of polished obsidian about the size of a football field. Etched into the
surface of the glassy stone is a swirled design, the lines lit up with the bright orange-gold glow
of molten rock. There is a feeling of power about the place.






(Obsidian)
A tall, ebon-skinned man, arms muscled and thick, shoulders broad. His body tapers at the waist
and hips. His features are sharp and chiselled, nose like a hawk's, almost Egyptian. His head seems
to be bald, his eyes stark white with dark irises. He is dressed in loose, flowing white robes, bare
at the chest and belted at the waist in a black sash. His wrists bear leather bands, and his feet are
unclad. Over his head he affects a loose Arabian-style aba hood.

Obsidian isn't here when Tarot arrives, though as soon as he steps out from behind a column of
basalt, the surge of the Glyph's flickering lines makes his presence patently obvious.

Obsidian looked at you.

Tarot inclines her head politely, as a drift of desert wind stirs her robes.

Obsidian's voice crosses the Glyph between he and Tarot easily, a low baritone. "My Lady of
Topaz. Vista, and two moons greet."

You say "Lord Obsidian: a good day to you."

You say "You requested a meeting: I am here."

Obsidian moves around the flat plateau of the Glyph, every step measured.

Obsidian says "This meeting is for our mutual benefit, Topaz. Do you follow the Accord of the
House of Stone?"

Tarot holds her place, watching him. "One of mutual peace?"

Obsidian stops, one quarter circle around the design from Tarot. "That's hardly the issue."

Obsidian says "What truck do you have with the House of Metal?"

Tarot's voice is cool. "I have spoken with several. And what is it that I have heard, that you sent
to Lady Silver?"

Obsidian shrugs, loosely. "Dalliances."

Tarot tilts an eyebrow.

Obsidian says "I have it in my own interest to continue my observation of the House through that
cheap whore. How she inherited the Title I shall never guess."

Tarot shrugs slightly. "Surely none of us may be blamed for the actions of our parents, or the
matters that we were born into. Or must it be enmity?"

Obsidian says "You are defending her invesiture? You *have* grown soft, Topaz."

Obsidian waves a hand, robes sliding back from his arm to his elbow. "Always the addled mystic.
But a harsher mistress, I have it on hearsay."

Tarot makes a slight gesture with her own right hand, the light glinting on the lines of the tattoo.
"Hearsay, and word has it you have enough of that. Let us be more precise. What is it that you
want, Obsidian?"

Obsidian's eyes dart across her to her tattoo. "Explain those markings, first, Topaz."

Tarot's mouth curls. "I thought we were here to discuss matters of life and death, Obsidian. War
and peace. Not body decoration."

Obsidian says "Peace is a misnomer. We shall never have peace."

Obsidian says "And I'm sure you won't object to my raising the issue of any further...
enhancements you seem to have acquired since last we spoke."

You say "Openness on my part would expect a similar measure on yours."

Obsidian says "Nonsense. I am a Lord of Mars, Topaz. Your station is considerably lesser."

Obsidian lifts his chin, turns his face from side to side. "Ah..."

Tarot's eyes glint green.

Obsidian pages: Does he see anything with a rough equivalent to BP lens?

You paged Obsidian with 'Well, Tarot has BP herself. And there's some sort of magic worked into
the tattoos. I wouldn't have thought he'd pick up on her SS. Trumps in her sash.'.

Tarot's voice is soft. "And yet you called me to this meeting."

Obsidian says "Of course. I anticipated that at some point you'd want to speak."

Obsidian spreads his hands. "So speak. You have the opportunity."

You say "Consider me one of the newer players on the scene, Lord Obsidian."

Obsidian works his thumb at his chin for a moment.

Obsidian says "So."

Obsidian says "I was right."

Obsidian turns, side on. "The Lords and Ladies return, incarnated again. Hmm? You aren't Topaz.
Who are you?"

You say "What are your expectations?"

Tarot tilts an eyebrow, waiting.

Obsidian says "My expectations?"

You say "Indeed."

Obsidian folds his arms. "Right now, I expect an answer to my question."

Obsidian says "Who are you?"

You say "Here and now, I am Topaz."

Obsidian's eyes level.

Obsidian says "Those items at your belt."

You say "I know of no other."

Tarot pauses.

You say "Would you have me call sight upon you, also, Obsidian?"

Obsidian says "What are they."

You say "Topaz is the Seer."

Tarot makes no answer to Obsidian's question.

Obsidian forms a line with his mouth. "And Obsidian is the Keeper, Topaz."

Obsidian says "Knowledge must be mine. What are those objects?"

You say "Not of the Glyphs, and not of you."

Obsidian seems to concentrate for a moment.

You say "Information cuts both ways."

Obsidian's eyes open, a little wider. "You are employing them at the moment. Are they a power
source?"

You say "Stone is tied to one Glyph, yet you bear both.."

Tarot cuts off, eyes darkening.

Obsidian's lips form a smug smile.

Obsidian says "You did not anticipate that, did you, Topaz?"

Tarot's face is angular. "What is it you wish, Obsidian?"

Obsidian says "I might be persuaded to exchange knowledge. Tell me what those objects are, and
I will add to your modest collection of Glyph lore."

Tarot's mouth quirks. "I thought that you might think me many things, Obsidian, but I did not
know you thought me so easily led."

You say "I almost feel insulted."

Obsidian says "If you are who you say you are, Topaz, you are greedy and hungry for knowledge.
You hoard it, and you constantly seek it out."

Obsidian says "This has never been something you denied before."

Obsidian smiles.

You say "Topaz presumably knows her allegiances, also."

Obsidian sweeps his hand, indicating the Glyph. It shimmers, a fiery glow. "Surely you wish to
know more of the designs, Topaz."

Obsidian says "I can sense it in you like a tightly wound spring."

Obsidian says "Tell me about the objects at your waist, Lady of Topaz."

Tarot shrugs, a touch, the robes softening the angularity of her thin body.

You say "You burn for power as brightly as this Glyph, Lord of Obsidian."

You say "I do not think you suffer any rivals."

Obsidian says "I hide not my ambitions, Topaz."

You say "Dominion."

Obsidian curls his hand into a fist. "Supremacy."

Obsidian says "My line was born unto this world to be the rulers."

Tarot's hand rises a moment to indicate her paler skin.

You say "What of such as I?"

Obsidian says "Cattle. Elevated into power by accident of history."

Obsidian waves a hand. "But you are excused, for the moment."

You say "It is so noted."

Obsidian says "The objects, Topaz."

Tarot's voice is as mild as ever, her eyes a dark green.


You say "I think not, Obsidian."

Obsidian's face creases. "You dare! You dare cross me?"

Obsidian says "I, and I alone, am son born of the manifest of the Glyph of Fire and Ice! I and only
I can truly claim this heritage!"

Tarot's mouth curls. "Stone and Metal, child of both."

Obsidian smiles. "You think only in terms of the Houses."

You say "How old are you, Obsidian?"

Obsidian's eyes burn for a moment.

Obsidian says "You have truly chosen to tread ground most sore and foul, Topaz."

Tarot's eyes are very dark. "There was a Lady Stone, and a Lady Metal, once."

You say "Who are you, Obsidian?"

Obsidian looks at her, teeth clenching.

Tarot's face is unmoving. "I think you older than these present times. A great deal older. And you
will have nothing of me, and I am nothing of yours."

"Lady of Topaz," he says, slowly, baritone still clear across the crater. "None of the Lords and
Ladies may address me so. Ware, Topaz. I come for thee now in a less than friendly fashion. I
come for thee now, and this journey shall I hale thee amid fires."

The Glyph surges, brilliantly.

Long distance to Benedict and Obsidian: Tarot is reaching out a hand to Benedict, to hopefully
go through the Trump contact, as common sense takes the drivers seat.

The air is growing noticeably hotter and electric.

Benedict, off ... somewhere ... continues to hold one hand out to clasp or be clasped. With the
other he takes one of the stubby pistols from a table in front of him, points it sideways to the
Trump call, and waits.

Tarot's movement is towards the visualisation of Benedict, as she reaches to clasp his hand and
go through to him.

Benedict reaches out to clasp, and pulls.

Magma cracks viciously through the basalt floor beneath Tarot, just as the rainbows of light save
her from their scourges.


Tarot vanishes to reappear beside Benedict, quickly releasing his hand to free it.

Benedict's asthma-inhaler radium pistol proves to be pointed out a window. 

Benedict grunts and replaces it on the table.

Tarot's voice is thoughtful, her eyes still dark green. "Well, that does tie in with some of the books
in my library. Though I think I had better be careful about returning."

Benedict, and now Tarot, are in a smallish stone room; across the table from Benedict (and
standing, like Benedict) is a Red holding Tarot's Trump. The table itself features a variety of bared
weapons while the view out the window shows the crater wall.

Benedict grunts.

You say "Was what you heard of use, sir?"

Benedict looks up, over the Red's head; he grunts and reaches out into the air.

Benedict takes a closed box out of rainbow sparkles. He puts it on the table.

Benedict tells Tarot "Yes."

Benedict says "Do not let him drive you from your power."

You say "From Fortress Topaz?"

Benedict nods.

You say "Prince Martin made a Trump of the outside, for me."

You say "There are a few matters that I am not sure I had time to mention earlier, sir."

Benedict nods.

You say "The lines of power from the Glyphs follow the canals. I am not sure there is a particular
pattern to this, though."

Benedict accepts the Trump of Tarot from the Red, who leaves out an until-now unnoticed door.
It disappears into one of his harness's pouches.

Benedict grunts. "Always?"

You say "My Fortress was at a node of these lines, and was also built of the blue crystals: I am
told you have seen them. I think they energise the stone to form the.. barrier against power."

Tarot considers. "We rode beside the canals a stretch. The lines did not vary."

Benedict nods.

You say "There is a tolerable library, but much of it is superstition or happenstance."

You say "It is said that the two original Glyphs were drawn, long ago, by the original Stone and
Metal."

You say "They then sired the Houses."

Benedict produces two camp-stools from underneath the table and opens them. The Red
reappears with a waterskin clearly full of cool water and two mugs, passes them to Benedict, and
leaves again. Benedict sits, waves Tarot to a seat, and does the pouring thing.

Tarot takes the seat, with a nod of thanks, and the mug of water.

You say "Metal appears tied to one Glyph, and Stone to the other. Descendants of the Houses
can pass the Glyphs, as those of Amber can the Pattern."

You say "Consequences appear to be "Mastery of the Elements"."

Tarot shrugs, a touch frustrated. "I have very little for definite."

Benedict nods.

You say "I do not know whether Metal is Fire, or Ice: or equally, which Stone is."

Benedict says "What do you make of him?"

You say "The books _suggested_ that the original Stone and Metal were female: but again, I have
nothing definite."

Tarot considers.

You say "He is arrogant, and very confident."

You say "I think he is far older than he appears, and I think that he has not been challenged in a
long while."

Benedict nods.

You say "I imagine he can call on very great power at either Glyph: that is why I came through,
rather than standing my ground."

Tarot takes a sip of the water, face lowered a moment.

Benedict nods.

Benedict sips his water. "I suggest returning to Fortress Topaz."

Benedict says "Speak with Martin to obtain a Trump of me."


Tarot's eyes are paling back to gold now, thoughtful.

You say "I shall do, sir."

You say "What do you think he may attempt?"

Benedict shrugs.

Benedict says "I think you answered well."

You say "My thanks, sir."

You say "I think Prince Martin is the only Lord so far who can create Trumps."

You say "I hope Obsidian does not discover this."

Benedict nods.

Tarot puts down her empty cup.

You say "I shall go back to my books, then, sir, if I may."

Benedict nods.

You say "The tribe that guards the Fortress are southerners also, but they appear loyal. They let
Prince Martin pass when he said he was under my protection."

You say "Would you have me mark the location on a map for you?"

Benedict says "Not here."

Tarot nods, rising and finding a set of Trumps in her sash: she selects one.

You say "Dawn guard, sir."

Benedict nods.

Tarot lowers her gaze to the card.

As you stare at the image before you, it slowly becomes more real.