I stand in my sanctum, my mind focused, my path clear. I seek answers, and by my will, I shall have them. A humble wooden table rests adjacent to the smaller of the two carved circles adorning the floor. Upon the table lay my tools. Though the feats I seek to preform are within my grasp, they are not without peril. When one chooses to deal with forces such as these, there is always risk... but without risk, there is never gain.

I begin preparing for the task at hand. Taking a jar filled with a mixture of powdered Tin and Brass, I meticulously fill the fine groves forming the perimeter of the larger engraved circle. Ignoring the carved hexagram, I form an octogram within the halo's confines. This is not a binding. I am not so foolish as to beleaguer powers outside of my ability. The sigil shall function only as a means to beckon. The accord I offer is generous.

Taking a thin brush and a dollop of orange paint, I inscribe the symbol of Mercury and the name Kokab [כוכב] in the center of the octogram. I step back, appraising my handiwork for several long moments.

Satisfied, I retreat to the far end of the room. Stripping down all of my clothing, I don my sacred vestments: a white silken robe, bedecked in archaic glyphs. Around my waist is strapped a leather belt, bearing a scabbard and ancient gladius.

All is in order. The ceremony may begin.

He takes his place within the smaller circle. Striking a match, he lights a stick of sandalwood and clears his mind. He consciously breaths for several long moments, savoring the scent, fixating on his course. From the table, he seizes a small black mirror. It is carved from the finest obsidian, polished to perfection and gilded in pure silver.

Gazing deep within its reflective visage, he grips the hilt of his sword with his right hand. Drawing the ancient blade in one fluid motion, he points it south and intones the secret name of Olam ha-Yetzirah in a forceful voice.

"MAH!"

2009-02-28 23:53:23 Cian Gwenith Gwawd rolls 3 dice to Arete; Rote: Caste Aside The Veil [Spirit 1]; Coincidental diff 4; Foci: black mirror, sword, word of power -1 diff (Diff 3) 8,7,8 (3 successes)  

--Last edited by Philip Rathbone on 2009-02-28 23:58:08 --

My vision ripples before my eyes, like I have been submerged in a strange translucent fluid. At first, color seems to fade from sight, but the images before me becomes, somehow, more real. Shape is more defined, space and texture more obvious. The walls of my house vibrate with a soft light. Overhead, the ceiling has vanished. The white, endless sky stretches high above, possessing depth few can fathom. Color and form drift about, quantity and quality a shifting constant in the heavenly void.

Setting aside the mirror, I cast my sight upwards, surveying the holy domain. I blindly reach towards the table, snatching a small vial from its precise placement. I grip my blade aloft, crushing the dram of quicksilver in my hand as I speak aloud.

"By the Divine Name ELOHIM TZABAOTH, under the authority of the Great Angel MICHAEL, I call the BENE ELOHIM into this magical cirlce. Come thou forth!"

2009-03-04 19:54:22 Cian Gwenith Gwawd rolls 3 dice to Arete; Rote: Lesser Ritual of Summoning [Spirit 2]; Coincidental diff 5; Foci: Sword, Quicksilver, Refined Metals, Octogram, Sacred Names, Symbols -1 diff (Diff 4, used willpower) 4,8,1 (2 successes)  

--Last edited by Philip Rathbone on 2009-03-04 20:08:01 --

 You gaze toward the heavenly world as you complete your incantation, the words resonating as you finish them.

In mere moments the spiritual plane is alight in a glow that grows into a blinding light. The light is blinding, akin to sun bursting upon the zenith of dawn. The wings are heard, fluttering as the lights dim, but a radiant nimbus still enshrouds the angelic being floating in your presence. It appears to be male, nude save for a simple loin cloth. His eyes are as quicksilver reflecting only your own image in its orbs. Upon its feet lay another smaller set of wings, though they seem to serve no utilitarian purpose.

*"Whom has summoned the Three Fold Sage? Whom has summoned the Prince of Splendour and of Wisdom?"*

* = spoken in Enochian

He speaks through your mind, words resonating into your subconscious. His movements are fluid and quick, your reply seeming to take eons to this quick minded servant.

"I am Cian Gwenith Gwawd, bani Bonisagus, Adept of The Way, Blood of Branwen the Young, Scion of the Beryl Rose, Keeper of the Seal of Caer Gystennin. I seek to parlay with you, oh, herald of the Star."

I stand strong, presenting a resolute facade. My sword, clasped tightly in my hand, rests at my side, a display of my will. My head is held high, my voice is stern but respectful.

"I offer an accord. I seek information and will bestow a dispensation of my power as exchange..."

I pause a moment, observing the entity before me. Dealings such as these are always trying, communication with such things being difficult at best. One must observe every formality. It is a simple thing to offend in ignorance. Apologies come hard.

After a moment, I continue, hopeful my words are met with comprehension.

"Under the last moon's cycle, events most grand took place at Smit's Book Store, in the earthly city of Sanfield Rock. I wish to know the details of what transpired and the forces involved. For this knowledge, I shall deliver unto thee one-third of the energies contained within my enlightened form. What say you?"  

--Last edited by Philip Rathbone on 2009-03-05 00:48:09 --

 "I know you Cian Gwenith Gwawd, bani Bonisagus, Adept of The Way, Blood of Branwen the Young, Scion of the Beryl Rose, Keeper of the Seal of Caer Gystennin for you are eternal," as the fire of love and well being springs into your form his voice the laughter of the soul.

"Why seek you this knowledge, omniscience is the kingdom of heaven and you are still bound to your mortal shell. What is done has passed and it is the will of the father. How shall this knowledge benefit your brother and man? None there called to our father in need."

It stands alight in radiant splendor, its mighty wings keeping it alight upon astral winds. Shadows of light spring from it at will, sendings going forth by divine will alone. It is a shadow of one, yet it is all knowing.  

2009-03-05 15:04:41 Cian Gwenith Gwawd rolls 6 dice to Int+Umbrood Protocol 9,3,1,3,5, 9 (1 success)

I ignore the near blinding radiance, keeping my eyes fixed on the ephemeral agent. I must tread a narrow path. The sword of reason must strike precisely. Few weak spots are caste in such mighty a being's armor.

"The Daedaleans have seized a sanctum of The Way. They have absconded with a great many sacred text. They will surely censor these enlightened works, furthering their great quest to befuddle the world of wisdom and truth. As an Adept of The Way, it is ever my duty to guard the light of knowledge from those who would vanquish it. What more, I fear for the life of Prolix Ventus bani Bonisagus, a brother of The Way. If he yet lives, I must aid him, per my holy vowels."  

--Last edited by Philip Rathbone on 2009-03-25 22:52:28 --

 You can feel the warm glow of love flood from the being, your concern obviously stirring its soul. Its brilliant visage turns to you, its voice carries with it the will of the heavenly host.

"I truly can feel the want in your voice. I have known you since time incarnate. Prolix Ventus bani Bonisagus is no more, he has been granted his reprieve from the mortal coil and even now dwells resplendent in New Jerusalem. Thy text have fallen into unclean hands that do no justice to the word. Brimstone mark its entrance and into the labyrinth shall the venture to uncover thy errant manuscrïpts. For this knowledge will thy promote these things that are bound within thine kingdom. Dost thou capitulate?" in a questioning manner.