![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
A little bit of background. Then, playing with electricity and vulgar magic in a weapon-like capacity, plus a comment about Star Wars, put an idea into my head. It just needed to percolate a little....
A lot has happened recently, and I've decided to start a journal to help me collect my thoughts.
The past few months have been a whirlwind. I went to SWAT training in Seattle and almost made it through it. It was hell. I was exhausted. And I got cocky while rapelling down the side of a building. I broke my right arm in two places in the fall. They said it was pure luck that I didn't die or break my neck. It wasn't luck: I altered my own fate.
Not very well though, or I wouldn't have broken my arm.
Things are changing though. I helped some of the local garou to rescue one of their kinfolk, though they didn't know I was even there. I channeled electricity from a taser across space and targeted one of the kidnappers--a Black Spiral Dancer. Supposedly a "bad" werewolf, but from this side of the fence it's not so easy to tell them apart. Because right after the fight, the "good" guys started ripping into one another. I think one or both of them lost it.
So I cooked a second taser into both of them. I'm not sure if that was a good thing or not, but I certainly don't intend to claim any credit for it.
Salem, he's my inside source with the garou, later told me that he'd been asked to convey thanks to his secret ally. I think that is the first time any of the Garou have ever offered any thanks. Weird. "Give my thanks to Emperor Palpatine." Because the electric blue of the tasers' discharges. It got me thinking.
I used to be part of a cabal, and we called ourselves the Jedi Knights after the Star Wars movies. Use the Force for good and all that. Well, everyone else moved on, and I'm the last one. Except I've never been a Jedi Knight. I'm more of a Jedi Outcast--like the video game. Not white, not black, but shades of gray. It mirrors my magical tradition--or lack thereof. I awakened an Orphan mage. Went to join the Hollow Ones. But then I realized I was just trying to make myself fit in with them--or anyone really--and abandoned them to go back to being an Orphan (which ironically may be an action more goth than being a Hollow One).
But yes, the electrical lightning trick. It got me thinking--and I had a whole week to think while the paradox was wearing off. I've got a much better appreciation of the garou's fear of silver. I couldn't touch any metal for a week without scorching myself. I've never done so much vulgar forces magic before: it's dangerous afterwards as well as when it's being worked.
I'll write more later. Phone just rang. Work. I've got a homicide to investigate.
The past few months have been a whirlwind. I went to SWAT training in Seattle and almost made it through it. It was hell. I was exhausted. And I got cocky while rapelling down the side of a building. I broke my right arm in two places in the fall. They said it was pure luck that I didn't die or break my neck. It wasn't luck: I altered my own fate.
Not very well though, or I wouldn't have broken my arm.
Things are changing though. I helped some of the local garou to rescue one of their kinfolk, though they didn't know I was even there. I channeled electricity from a taser across space and targeted one of the kidnappers--a Black Spiral Dancer. Supposedly a "bad" werewolf, but from this side of the fence it's not so easy to tell them apart. Because right after the fight, the "good" guys started ripping into one another. I think one or both of them lost it.
So I cooked a second taser into both of them. I'm not sure if that was a good thing or not, but I certainly don't intend to claim any credit for it.
Salem, he's my inside source with the garou, later told me that he'd been asked to convey thanks to his secret ally. I think that is the first time any of the Garou have ever offered any thanks. Weird. "Give my thanks to Emperor Palpatine." Because the electric blue of the tasers' discharges. It got me thinking.
I used to be part of a cabal, and we called ourselves the Jedi Knights after the Star Wars movies. Use the Force for good and all that. Well, everyone else moved on, and I'm the last one. Except I've never been a Jedi Knight. I'm more of a Jedi Outcast--like the video game. Not white, not black, but shades of gray. It mirrors my magical tradition--or lack thereof. I awakened an Orphan mage. Went to join the Hollow Ones. But then I realized I was just trying to make myself fit in with them--or anyone really--and abandoned them to go back to being an Orphan (which ironically may be an action more goth than being a Hollow One).
But yes, the electrical lightning trick. It got me thinking--and I had a whole week to think while the paradox was wearing off. I've got a much better appreciation of the garou's fear of silver. I couldn't touch any metal for a week without scorching myself. I've never done so much vulgar forces magic before: it's dangerous afterwards as well as when it's being worked.
I'll write more later. Phone just rang. Work. I've got a homicide to investigate.
