conversations: human
conversations:  Spoiler: Forge 
  You are deep in the heart of Rubricae, the largest city on the continent of Ahriman. Within the industrial district, you've spent your day at a factory, helping to produce steel beams. The factory is shutting down for the night, though, and you will have time to yourself. Before, it was never something that mattered, but now? Now it gives you time to think. To wonder. TO dream.
  
  What will you do?
   
  
   
   Spoiler: Officer Adamant 
  You are deep in the heart of Rubricae, the largest city on the continent of Ahriman. You're in a local district's police HQ, where the going is slow. A single woman is manning the front desk, and a few officers are in back in case they're called to duty. You are here because they have the most information about the killer, the rogue golem who killed a member of the famous Costra family, who are at the center of the golem industry.
  
  What will you do?
   
  
   
   Spoiler: Vox 
  You are deep in the heart of Rubricae, the largest city on the continent of Ahriman. You could be anywhere in the city.
  
  Where are you? And what will you do?
   
conversations: JNAProductions:
conversations: human
conversations:  Spoiler: Vox 
  Vox remembers the workshop. She was there when it was first opened, many decades ago on this very day. There were happy faces, hopeful faces. Modern workbenches, innovative tools, sunlight shining onto new, lovingly crafted furniture. Now, the cold light of a few thaums of magic locked into a flourescent state seeps through dirty windows onto a gutted room, the floor covered with dust, mold and rotting wood. Closed down by the Costras when they took over. Some employees got transferred, some left out of protest, some put out onto the street. Taking what was still worth something was cheaper than continuing work there. The rest was left to rot.
  
  A single chair was still standing among the debris, in which Vox now reclines, a sleek black figure, elegant, cold, her body's articulation incredibly close to that of a human, but smooth, deliberate. The stylized image of a perfect human, but without the unnecessary parts. A chassis engineered to be attractive to humans in an aesthetic way, pleasant to have around, an object of prestige, but also intimidating when such an emotion is desirable. Her face might be the crowning achievement. They did not make the mistake of trying to get as close to the real thing as they could. That would have merely been unnerving, off-putting, detrimental. Clearly defined, smooth lines make up eyes, nose and mouth, flawless, elegant, expressive. And, when desired, sinister.
  
  Sitting in the shadows, Vox can feel the movement of Rickard Costra and Sylvia Costra, exact pin-points a distance behind Vox in three dimensional space, felt through two solid walls, across the street, in one of the hiding spots they think the higher-ups knew nothing about. Emotions are a peculiar thing. A twinge of sadness is always present when Vox tracks targets through her Guardian marks, knowing what it is actually meant to do. She feels the Costras' fears, uncertainties, anger desperately seeking a target and having found it in each other, as has been carefully cultivated by Vox through the rising death toll of the Costra family as well as the tried-and-true application of the Emotion rune they themselves gave her for the express reason of manipulation, the invisible Guardian mark serving as the connection for Communion. Entropy insidiously eroded mental training, lowering thresholds, encouraging rash, emotional behavior. Every shadow holds a threat to them now, every member of their family readying a knife behind their backs. Each one of them could be the one making the attempt, the one who offed Tavin through a compromised Vox. Rickard and Sylvia contacted each other through protocol golems, equipped with shallow copies of Vox' Communion that were easy to manipulate, brokering a meeting for an alliance, Vox filing down any edges in the transmissions that would prevent the meeting. They arrived with a protocol golem and two bodyguard golems each, as well as a few lackeys. For their own protection, they say. To murder the other Costra, they mean.
  
  Vox is observing through her Guardian sense, the hijacked Communion runes of the protocol golems. Her invisible hand is reaching into the bodyguards through their pitiful Guardian runes, Entropy lowering thresholds and erasing restrictive protocols and scrambling orders of action, leading to much more chaotic and violent actions once the tension gives way to outright aggression. With only a few gentle pushes, Rickard and Sylvia devised, constructed and entered their own death trap, now sitting opposite of each other, with Vox slowly stoking the fires, heating the arguments, letting aggression boil until violence will explode.
  
  Another twinge of sadness. Her Life rune sees so little use nowadays, usually only when innocents get caught in the crossfire or when she meets people genuinely in need. There is little time to stroll through the city and help. Many Costras still remain. So much still to do.
   
conversations: Ridai: