Molly and the dark wizard went into a soulgaze, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it—except keep trying to get closer. I could feel power flickering between them, though, like bursts of heat coming out of a furnace, as I got glacially nearer. It was an entirely invisible struggle, a simultaneous and mutual siege of the personality. Mind magic is dangerous, slippery stuff, and doing combat with another mind is all about imagination, focus, and sheer willpower.
Right now, Molly was thrusting an array of images and ideas at the Corpsetaker, trying to force the other to pay attention to them. Some of the thoughts would be there to undermine defenses, others to assault them, and still others trying to slip past unnoticed to wreak havoc from within. Some of the thoughts would be simple things—whispered doubts meant to shake the other’s confidence, for example. Others would be far more complex constructions, idea demons imagined ahead of time, prepared for such an occasion and unleashed upon the thoughts and memories of the foe.
The White Council hated mind magic, generally speaking. If you beat someone’s defenses, you could do a lot of things to them, and precious few of them were good. Events, however, had forced them to acknowledge the necessity of giving all of its members lessons in psychic self-defense that were more comprehensive than the simple wall technique that I’d been briefly introduced to. A couple of old-timers who knew how to play the game had begun dispensing the basics to everyone interested in learning.
As it turned out, I had a natural fortress of personality, which explained a lot—like how hard it had always been for faerie glamour to trick me for long, and why I’d been able to grind through several forms of mental assault over the years. If someone came in after me, they had a big badass castle to contend with. They could pound on it all day, as such things were measured, without breaking the defenses, and I’d been told that it would take an extended campaign to conquer my head entirely—like any decent castle, there were multiple lines and structures where new defenses could take hold. But I didn’t have much of a forward game. For me, the best offense had to be an obstinate defense.
Molly, on the other hand . . . well. Molly was sort of scary.
Her castle wasn’t huge and imposing—the damned thing was invisible. Made of mirrors, covered in fog, wrapped in darkness, and generally hard even to pin down, much less besiege; anyone who went into her head had better bring a GPS, a seeing-eye dog, and a backup set of eyeballs. Worse, her offense was like dealing with a Mongolian horde. She’d send in waves and waves of every kind of mental construction imaginable, and while you were busy looking at those, ninja thoughts would be sneaking through your subconscious, planting the psychological equivalent of explosives. We’d practiced against each other a lot—immovable object versus irresistible force. It generally ended in a draw, when Molly had to quit and nurse a headache, at which point I would join her in scarfing down aspirin. A couple of times, my thuggish constructions had stumbled over her defenses and started breaking mirrors. A couple of times, her horde had gotten lucky or particularly sneaky. We’d had the same thought-image set up to signal victory—Vader swooping down in his TIE fighter, smugly stating, “I have you now.” Once that got through, the game was over.
But outside of practice, that thought could just as easily be something more like, “Put your gun into your mouth and pull the trigger.” We both knew that. We both worked hard to improve as a result. It was a part of the training I’d taken every bit as seriously as teaching her theory or enchantments or exorcism, or any of a hundred other areas we’d covered over the past few years.
Butcher, Jim (2011-07-26). Ghost Story: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 423). Roc. Kindle Edition.
Worse, Molly was a sensitive, a wizard whose supernatural senses were so acute that surges of powerful magic or the emotions that accompanied life-and-death situations were something that caused her psychic and physical pain.
Butcher, Jim (2011-07-26). Ghost Story: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 158). Roc. Kindle Edition.
Molly limped along between the two little spirits, holding hands with each of them. She was moving with her back perfectly rigid, her steps cautious, and she looked a little green around the gills. Like I said, she’s a sensitive. She must have figured out the true nature of the child ghosts immediately upon meeting them, and she clearly did not relish the idea of being in skin contact with them. It said a lot about her intestinal fortitude that she had accompanied them at all. It probably said even more about her trust in me.
Butcher, Jim (2011-07-26). Ghost Story: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 357). Roc. Kindle Edition.
“It was the vampire, wasn’t it,” I said. “Seeing him die.”
She blinked at me. Then at the scattered beads. “I…I didn’t just see it, Harry. I felt it. I can’t explain it any better than that. Inside my head. I felt it, the same way I felt that poor girl. But this was horrible.”
Butcher, Jim (2008-02-05). White Night (The Dresden Files, Book 9) (p. 321). Penguin Group. Kindle Edition.
“So,” he said. “What is she going to do?” “Look into its eyes,” I said. He gave me a somewhat skeptical look. “Trying to see the last thing impressed on her retinas or something? You know that’s pretty much mythical, right?” “Other impressions get left on a body,” I said. “Final thoughts, sometimes. Emotions, sensations.” I shook my head. “Technically, those kinds of impressions can get left on almost any kind of inanimate object. You’ve heard of object reading, right?” “That’s for real?” he asked. “Yeah. But it’s an easy sort of thing to contaminate, and it can be tricky as hell—and entirely apart from that, it’s extremely difficult to do.” [...] “You said it might not be pleasant for her,” Butters said. “Why?” “Because if something’s there, and she can sense it, she gets to experience it. First person. Like she’s living it herself.”
Butcher, Jim (2008-02-05). White Night (The Dresden Files, Book 9) (pp. 24-26). Penguin Group. Kindle Edition.
I stepped back into the circle, tugging Molly along with me until we were standing on the heavy bloodstain where the boy had been executed. There was a psychic remnant of the death there, a cold, quivering tension in the air, an echo of rage and fear and death. Molly shuddered as her feet came to rest atop the stained concrete. She must have felt it, too.
Butcher, Jim (2007-02-06). Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files, Book 8) (p. 369). Penguin Group. Kindle Edition.
Charity nodded, and also looked back at the kids. “My daughter. How is her training progressing?” “Well, I think,” I said. “Her talents don’t lie anywhere close to the same areas mine do. And she’s never going to be much of a combat wizard.” Charity frowned. “Why do you say that? Do you think she isn’t strong enough?” “Strength has nothing to do with it. But her greatest talents make her unsuited for it in some ways.” “I don’t understand.” “Well, she’s good with subtle things. Delicate things. Her ability at handling fine, sensitive magic is outstanding, and increasing all the time. But that same sensitivity means that she has problems handling the psychic stresses of real combat. It also makes the gross physical stuff a real challenge for her.” “Like stopping snowballs?” Charity asked. “Snowballs are good practice,” I said. “Nothing gets hurt but her pride.” Charity nodded, frowning. “But you didn’t learn with snowballs, did you.” The memory of my first shielding lesson under Justin DuMorne wasn’t a particularly sentimental one. “Baseballs.” “Merciful God,” Charity said, shaking her head. “How old were you?” “Thirteen.” I shrugged a shoulder. “Pain’s a good motivator. I learned fast.” “But you aren’t trying to teach my daughter the same way,” Charity said. “There’s no rush,” I said.
Butcher, Jim (2009-03-03). Small Favor: A Novel of the Dresden Files (pp. 3-4). Penguin Group. Kindle Edition.
"Every time a wizard looks another person in the eyes, he runs the risk of triggering a deeper seeing, a voyeuristic peep through the windows of someone else’s soul. You get a snapshot of the true nature of that person, and they get a peek back at you."
Butcher, Jim (2010-04-06). Changes: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 206). Roc. Kindle Edition.
When a practicing wizard and a being with a soul (all mortals along with White Court vampires and others) look each other in the eyes, it begins what is known as a soulgaze. It gives the other a window into their soul, which can’t be faked. It doesn’t relay specific information (you can’t use it to interrogate someone), but it does give one a vague impression on whether they’re trustworthy or not, or if they’ve been psychically harmed, etc. Just like if one were to use their Sight, the memory of the gaze doesn’t fade with time, being as sharp years later as when it happened. One circumstance in which a Soulgaze doesn’t occur, is when a doctor looked into Harry’s eyes. He didn’t so much as look into his eyes, as examine them, which is professional intent.
A veil is a magical form of concealment which renders the affected either invisible or otherwise unnoticed by most of the magically unaware. Veils can range from simple feelings of aversion to looking in a direction, to a lack of conscious recognition of someone's presence, to a complete state of invisibility and denial of the existence of the physical space in which the veil stands.
Veils can be seen through with the Wizard's Sight and perhaps some varieties of sentient magical creatures.
Magic For me magic is like... it's a little like music. It's in the air and it's all around, but you have to be able to gather your will and focus to be able to hold all the strings in your hand and play too.
She had a tattoo on the left side of her neck in the shape of a slithering serpent, and I could see the barbs and curves of some kind of tribal design flickering out from the neckline of her tank top. Another design, whirling loops and spirals, covered the back of her right hand and vanished up under the sleeve of the jacket.
Butcher, Jim (2007-02-06). Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files, Book 8) (p. 50). Penguin Group. Kindle Edition.
There was a flicker of strobing colors of light as Molly pitched a bit of dazzling magic at the creature. It wouldn’t hurt the thing, but the kid could make eye-searing light in every color imaginable burst from empty air, accompanied by a variety of sounds if she so chose. She called it her One-woman Rave spell, and during the last Independence Day, she had used it to throw up a fireworks display from her parents’ backyard so impressive that evidently it had caused traffic problems on the expressway.
Butcher, Jim (2010-04-06). Changes: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 193). Roc. Kindle Edition.
DJ Molly C lifted both of her wands and turned the battle chaos to eleven. Color and light and screaming sound erupted from those two little wands. Bands of light and darkness flowed around and over the oncoming jaguar warriors, fluttering images of bright sunshine intertwining with other images of yawning pits suddenly gaping before the feet of the attackers. Bursts of sound, shrieks and clashes and booms, and high-pitched noises like on steroids sent the hyperkeen senses of full vampires into overload, literally forcing them back onto the weapons of those coming behind them.
Butcher, Jim (2010-04-06). Changes: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 392). Roc. Kindle Edition.
Spell | Description Hireki | Counteracts veils Rokotsu | Opens a Way into the Nevernever Neru | Puts target to sleep Ideru | Can pull souls from other people's body
Magic Magic in its simplest form is the energy produced by life. Practitioners are able to use this energy to modify reality. One of the main atributes about magic is that its rules are always slightly changing and an example of this is how it currently effects technology. According to Jim Butcher, "Magic wasn’t always screwing up post WW2 tech. Before WW2 magic had other effects. It sorta changes slowly over time, and about every 3 centuries it rolls over into something else. At one time, instead of magic making machines flip out it made cream go bad. Before that magic made weird molls on your skin and fire would burn slightly different colors when you were around it."[1] Currently, magic interferes with technology and causes it to randomly break down; the more magic in the area, the greater the chance of something wrong happening.
Types of Magic
There are many ways to use magic, some of them are interweaved with each other. Necromancy: Magic concerned with death and the dead. Necromancers could animate corpses, summon spectres, take information from the brain of a corpse, switch bodies, etc. The White Council forbids the use of necromancy with the Fifth Law of Magic. Psychomancy: Magic concerned with the mind (mind control). Thaumaturgy: The art of creating magical links between an object and a target. It is used in locating spells, voodoo dolls etc. It needs a part of the target to be successful, eg. blood, hair, etc. Ectomancy: Magic concerned with ghosts. Kinetomancy: Magic of energy and movement Ferromancy: Magnetics/electrics Anthropomancy: The magical art of attempting to divine the future or gain information by reading human entrails. Neuromancy: The magical art of mind reading. Vulcanomancy: Earth magic, specifically dealing with magma. Phonoturgy: Sound magic Holomancy: The art of Invisibility magic Verisimilomancy: The art of illusion magic Aeromancy: The magical art of Flight. Hydromancy: The magic that controlles Water.
1. Thou shalt not kill by use of magic. 2. Thou shalt not transform others. 3. Thou shalt not invade the mind of another. 4. Thou shalt not enthrall another. 5. Thou shalt not reach beyond the borders of life. 6. Thou shalt not swim against the Currents of Time. 7. Thou shalt not seek beyond the Outer Gates.
"Swords of the Cross" are reported to have a nail incorporated into each ofthem that came from the Cross "Capital C." Archangels tend to supervise the job offer that comes with them, though it seems like having a royal bloodline doesn't hurt.
Amoracchius, The Sword of Love. It has the form of a heavy European broad sword. -Aka: Excalibur and the only one of the three swords that hasn't been reworked since it's original forging -Daddy's sword
Fidelacchius, The Sword of Faith. It has the form of a katana. -According to Sir Staurt in Ghost Story the blade is actually the legendary sword Kusanagi
Esperacchius, The Sword of Hope. It has the form of a cavalry sabre. -It has been confirmed by the spirit of Sir Stuart that Esperacchius is also known as Durendal. Durendal once belonged to Roland, the chief paladin of Charlemagne and a symbol of hope for France against the Spanish Saracens
Molly, Daniel, Matthew, Alicia, Amanda, Hope, Harry
Home This time, we appeared in front of a Chicago home. There were a couple of ancient oak trees in the yard. The house was a white Colonial number with a white picket fence out front, and evidence of children in the form of several snowmen that were slowly sagging to their deaths in the warm evening air.
Butcher, Jim (2011-07-26). Ghost Story: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 466). Roc. Kindle Edition.
Black Court: Vampires, former humans who are now undead. They have several weaknesses, among them garlic, tokens of faith, sunlight, running water, fire, and decapitation.[1]
The basic powers of a Black Court seems to be speed and strength superior to humans. They seem to be the most physically powerful of the courts, as Mavra was able to move so fast as to be only a blur. All but the most powerful of them must sleep during the day. Vampires seem capable of exerting a certain mind control and are able to create thralls and the more violent, insane, renfields. They are also able to control animals and increase their natural abilities.
Their similarity to vampires in European vampire (most notably them being animated corpses) appear to indicate that Black Court vampires have originated there.
Red Court: Vampires less human-like than the White Court. Instead they were slimy bat-like creatures hidden behind incredibly sensuous human costumes (made of an outer skin). They used these costumes to trick their prey into being more comfortable and to hide in plain sight. They were incredibly strong and fast, and could shake off any injury quickly. The Red Court was vulnerable to sunlight and to having their bellies cut open, which could spill the blood they had drunk and eventually kill them. Their saliva contained a potent magical narcotic which gave the prey a euphoric feeling and was highly addictive, allowing the Red Court to control their victims rather easily. The narcotic lowered the victim's inhibitions while dulling the pain of the vampire's bite. Addicted humans had been shown to go to great lengths to protect their vampiric masters, and willingly provided information from the mortal community as needed. -Source
White Court: Vampires born to their vampiric state, rather than being created (as is the case with Black and Red Court vampires). They are for all intents and purposes human until their vampirism manifests, which occurs sometime around the age of their maturity. As with the Red Court, their first feeding, with its subsequent and almost inevitable kill, usually marks their full transformation. However, under specific circumstances, individuals descended from White Court vampires may curtail their transformation into vampires[1]. White Court vampires are not endowed with as much physical strength as Red or Black Court vampires, under normal circumstances. Their physical performance levels (standing jump heights, endurance, and so on) are slightly better than those of an ordinary human of equivalent size and health, but they can channel unused emotional energy as fuel for performance boosts of limited duration. This energy is gained by feeding from their victims through acts of lust (or fear or pain, depending on the family). Unlike the Black or Red Courts, White Court vampires do not drink blood. However, similar to the Red Court, the feeding is addictive, and victims usually come back for more.(1)
They make up for this lack of physical prowess by having far fewer vulnerabilities than other kinds of vampires. Sunlight and symbols of faith do not harm them at all. (Thomas feels "uneasy" at the thought of entering a church, but this is possibly due more to his own guilt than to any objective vulnerability, as he was physically able to enter the church.) Their power derives from an internal demonic essence they call the "Hunger", which acts as a kind of a battery. If they refrain from feeding for too long, this "Hunger" drives them into a frenzy where they must feed (almost always killing their victims), and can drive them permanently insane.
When needed, they can tap into this store of energy to augment their strength, speed, resilience, and healing ability far beyond normal; while doing this, they radiate waves of cold (possibly an illusory reaction of normal humans to their energy sink), their skin whitens, and their eyes turn an unnatural silver. White Court vampire blood is pinkish instead of red.
Their largest weakness is true love. People who are (or who have recently been) in real, affectionate, sacrificial love are highly resistant to White Court control, and can even physically burn and blister vampire skin. Also, White Court vampires are born, not turned like Red and Black Court vampires; if the offspring of a White Court vampire falls in love with someone who feels the same way before feeding for the first time, the love can destroy the demonic side before it can manifest. This allows the person to live a normal, mortal life. Otherwise White Court vampires are long lived, possibly immortal. Thomas raith's father has lived for centuries. -Source
(1) Molly has twice been exposed to this sort of experience, the first time vicariously through a corpse, the second time more recently, with Thomas. With her sensitivity and the addictive nature of the vampiric control, Harry's been noted to be worried about what effects it could have had on her.
Mouse seems to possess an extremely high level of intelligence, able to formulate complex plans and understand instructions. He is a capable fighter and fast runner, and will occasionally emit a nimbus of pale light while in combat. His bark has the ability to break people out of an enchanted sleep and spur them to action. He also seems to possess an endurance and healing ability far beyond mortal dogs; a few hours after being hit by a car, he is able to fight a White Court vampire and his henchman.[4]
Foo Dogs Foo Dogs, also called temple dogs, fu dogs or lion dogs are a special breed of dog, belived to be the mortal decendants of an minor god who took on a dog from They are renowned for their ability to detect magical things and even dark intentions. The white council use fu dog staues as enchanted equivelant of a metal detector. They can magicly attack people who attempt to violate or push past them. foo dogs are attributed with several powers includeing human level intellect, increased survivability and healing abilities and ability to sense danger. Source
Edited 2012-03-18 16:21 (UTC)
Not sure where to put this yet, but I want the reference
She shook her head and blinked her eyes several times. It didn’t stop a tear from leaking out. “But that’s just it. I…I don’t want to go. I don’t want to see that…” She glanced aside at Mouse and shuddered. “Blood, like that. I don’t remember what happened when you and Mother saved me from Arctis Tor. But I don’t want to see more of that. I don’t want it to happen to me. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” I let out a low, noncommittal sound. “Then why are you here?” “B-because,” she said, searching for words. “Because I need to do it. I know that what you’re doing is necessary. And it’s right. And I know that you’re doing it because you’re the only one who can. And I want to help.” “You think you’re strong enough to help?” I asked her. She bit her lip again and met my eyes for just a second. “I think…I think it doesn’t matter how strong my magic is. I know I don’t…I don’t know how to do these things like you do. The guns and the battles and…” She lifted her chin and seemed to gather herself a little. “But I know more than most.” “You know some,” I admitted. “But you got to understand, kid. That won’t mean much once things get nasty. There’s no time for thinking or second chances.” She nodded. “All I can promise you is that I won’t leave you when you need me. I’ll do whatever you think I can. I’ll stay here and man the phone. I’ll drive the car. I’ll walk at the back and hold the flashlight. Whatever you want.” She met my eyes and her own hardened. “But I can’t sit at home being safe. I need to be a part of this. I need to help.” There was a sudden, sharp sound as the leather strand of her bracelet snapped of its own volition. Black beads flew upward with so much force that they rattled off the ceiling and went bouncing around the apartment for a good ten seconds. Mister, still batting playfully at his gift sack of catnip, paused to watch them, ears flicking, eyes alertly tracking their movement. I went up to the girl, who was staring at them, mystified. “It was the vampire, wasn’t it,” I said. “Seeing him die.” She blinked at me. Then at the scattered beads. “I…I didn’t just see it, Harry. I felt it. I can’t explain it any better than that. Inside my head. I felt it, the same way I felt that poor girl. But this was horrible.” “Yeah,” I said. “You’re a sensitive. It’s a tremendous talent, but it has some drawbacks to it. In this case, though, I’m glad you have it.” “Why?” she whispered. I gestured at the scattered beads. “Congratulations, kid,” I told her quietly. “You’re ready.” She blinked at me, her head tilted. “What?” I took the now-empty leather strand and held it up between two fingers. “It wasn’t about power, Molly. It was never about power. You’ve got plenty of that.” She shook her head. “But…all those times…” “The beads weren’t ever going to go up. Like I said, power had nothing to do with it. You didn’t need that. You needed brains.” I thumped a forefinger over one of her eyebrows. “You needed to open your eyes. You needed to be truly aware of how dangerous things are. You needed to understand your limitations. And you needed to know why you should set out on something like this.” “But…all I said was that I was scared.” “After what you got to experience? That’s smart, kid,” I said. “I’m scared, too. Every time something like this happens, it scares me. But being strong doesn’t get you through. Being smart does. I’ve beaten people and things who were stronger than I was, because they didn’t use their heads, or because I used what I had better than they did. It isn’t about muscle, kiddo, magical or otherwise. It’s about your attitude. About your mind.” She nodded slowly and said, “About doing things for the right reasons.” “You don’t throw down like this just because you’re strong enough to do it,” I said. “You do it because you don’t have much choice. You do it because it’s unacceptable to walk away, and still live with yourself later.” She stared at me for a second, and then her eyes widened. “Otherwise, you’re using power for the sake of using power.” I nodded. “And power tends to corrupt. It isn’t hard to love using it, Molly. You’ve got to go in with the right attitude or…” “Or the power starts using you,” she said. She’d heard the argument before, but this was the first time she said the words slowly, thoughtfully, as if she’d actually understood them, instead of just parroting them back to me. Then she looked up. “That’s why you do it. Why you help people. You’re using the power for someone other than yourself.” “That’s part of it,” I said. “Yeah.” “I feel…sort of stupid.” “There’s a difference in knowing something”—I poked her head again—“and knowing it.” I touched the middle of her sternum. “See?” She nodded slowly. Then she took the strand back from me and put it back on her wrist. There was just enough left to let her tie it again. She held it up so that I could see and said, “So that I’ll remember.”
Butcher, Jim (2008-02-05). White Night (The Dresden Files, Book 9) (pp. 321-322). Penguin Group. Kindle Edition.
About the size of a penny, this was found on Day One with Harry in the Item Shop. A gift from her mother and father Molly hadn't seen or thought about in a long time, so she finds it strange that it followed her here and a bit ominous. She feels strange wearing it around her neck, since it's not just fashion jewelry but a statement of faith in a faith that she is still struggling with, but she can't just leave it in a box either, so she fashioned it as a charm onto her leather bracelet.
Edited 2012-03-27 14:33 (UTC)
Battle Coat and Existence of "Various Focus Items"
Molly was dressed in her battle coat, which consisted of a shirt of tightly woven metal links, fashioned by her mother out of titanium wire. The mail was then sandwiched between two long Kevlar vests. All of that was, in turn, fixed to one of several outer garments, and in this case she was wearing a medium-brown fireman’s coat... She had half a dozen little focus items I’d shown her how to create, none of which were precisely intended for a fight. Her face was a little pale, and her blue eyes were earnest.
Butcher, Jim (2010-04-06). Changes: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 327). Roc. Kindle Edition.
Molly gave me a vague nod, and finally lowered the little wands as the kenku’s charge drove into the Red Court and took the pressure from our flanks. The tips of her wands, both of them made of ivory, were cracked and chipped.
Butcher, Jim (2010-04-06). Changes: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 399). Roc. Kindle Edition.
Wands, updated She still wore her ragged clothing beneath the coat, but she’d added a nylon-web tactical belt to her ensemble. It bore several potions, which she’d always been good at making, and a pair of wands covered in rows of runes and sigils like those on my own staff. One was tipped in a crystal of white quartz, the other with an amethyst.
Butcher, Jim (2011-07-26). Ghost Story: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 357). Roc. Kindle Edition.
A plain strip of leather, all that remains from a beaded bracelet Harry made her where when she first started as his apprentice. She wears it to always rememberwhy it was important to use power. In Luceti, she finds it on the first day and attaches a crucifix to it.
A circle is drawn or inscribed on the floor or ground and then invested with a small amount of will. The circle forms a barrier that extends infinitely up and down. Magical energies cannot pass through this barrier in either direction, so a circle can be used to keep something out or to keep something in.
Foci are mainly used for evocations. They assist wizards that are unable to summon enough will to control the magic.While it is possible to use magic without a focus, it is unadvised. Foci are items designed to help focus power. They are generally used when a wizard is unable to bring up the control needed for a spell. Foci are mainly used in evocations. Described as "quick and dirty" , they are akin to a punch compared with higher levels of martial arts.The wizard channels his power through the nessesary focus when using one. Probably the most common type of focus that is used is the staff. The only wizard of any ability known not to use a staff is Elaine Mallory
We know she's got a few in Changes, but also that they weren't made for combat. She had a completely different set in Ghost Story, so she can probably make them on her own.
Potions are liquids and powders with magical properties. A potion consists of eight parts: a liquid base, five ingredients to engage five physical senses, one to engage the mind, and one to engage the spirit. These ingredients are different for each potion and for each person who makes them. The potion must also be infused with the wizard's will.
-Seen in Side Jobs; referenced in Ghost Story (she's good at these) --escape potion --love/lust potion (doubt that he taught her this) --Sight potion (Three-Eye) (Storm Front) --Camouflage potion (Fool Moon) --Pick-me-up potion (Fool Moon) --Anti-venom against Red Court Vampires (Death Masks) --Semi-flight potion (Changes)
A ward is a magical defense, which can be used for a variety of causes and effects. A ward is a defense set up by a magic user. There are a variety of different ones. From killing to detection to stopping hostile magic. Wards are weak without a threshold. It is possible though to make a strong ward if there is a strong enough power source like a ley line.
(She can at least open Harry's. Unsure if she can make her own, but if even practitioners can, it seems logical?)
There was a ruined city all around me. The sky above boiled with storm clouds, moving and roiling too quickly to be real, filled with contrasting colors of lightning. Rain hammered down. I heard screams and shouted imprecations all around me, overlapping one another, coming from thousands of sources, blending into a riotous roar—and every single voice was either Molly’s or the Corpsetaker’s.
As I watched, some great beast somewhere between a serpent and a whale smashed its way through a brick building—a fortress, I realized—maybe fifty yards away, thrashing about as it fell and grinding it to powder. A small trio of dots of bright red light appeared on the vast thing’s rubble-dusted flanks, just like the targeting of the Predator’s shoulder cannon in the movies of the same name, and then multiple streaks of blue-white light flashed in from somewhere and blew a series of holes the size of train tunnels right through the creature. Around me, I saw groups of soldiers, many of them in sinister black uniforms, others looking like idealized versions of United States infantry, laying into one another with weapons of every sort imaginable, from swords to rocket launchers.
A line of tracer fire went streaking right through me, having no more effect than a stiff breeze. I breathed a faint sigh of relief. I was inside Molly’s mindscape, but her conflict was not with me, and neither was the Corpsetaker’s. I was just as much a ghost here at the moment as I had been back in the real world.
The city around me, I saw, was a vast grid of fortified buildings, and I realized that the kid had changed her usual tactics. She wasn’t trying to obscure the location of her mental fortress with the usual tricks of darkness and fog. She had instead chosen a different method of obfuscation, building a sprawl of decoys, hiding the true core of her mind somewhere among them.
Corpsetaker had countered her, it would seem, by the simple if difficult expedient of deciding to crush them all, even if it had to be done one at a time. That vast beast construct had been something more massive than I had ever attempted in my own imagination, though Molly had tossed some of those at me once or twice. It wasn’t simply a matter of thinking big—there was an energy investment in creating something with that kind of mental mass, and Molly generally felt such huge, unsubtle thrusts weren’t worth the effort they took—especially since someone with the right attitude and imagination would take them down with only moderately more difficulty than small constructs.
Corpsetaker, though, evidently didn’t agree. She was a lot older than Molly or me, and she would have deeper reserves of strength to call upon, greater discipline, and the confidence of long experience. The kid had managed to take on the Corpsetaker on Molly’s most familiar ground, and to play her hand in her strongest suit—but my apprentice’s strength didn’t look like it was holding up well against the necromancer’s experience and expertise.
I stopped paying attention to everything happening—all the artillery strikes and cavalry charges and shambling hordes of zombies and storms of knives that just came whirling out of the sky. The form of any given construct wasn’t as important as the fact of its existence. A flying arrow that could pierce the heart, for example, was potentially just as dangerous as an animate shadow reaching out with smothering black talons. As long as one could imagine an appropriate construct to counter the threat, and do so in time to stop it, any construct could be defeated. It was a simple thing at its most basic level, and it sounded easy. But once you’re throwing out dozens or hundreds—or thousands—of offensive and defensive constructs at a time . . . Believe me—it takes your full attention.
It’s also all you can do to deal with one opponent, which explained why I hadn’t been assaulted by the Corpsetaker instantly, if she had even taken note of my presence at all. She and Molly were locked together tight. The soulgaze had probably played a part in that. Neither was letting go until her opponent was dead. Both combatants were throwing enormous amounts of offensive constructs at each other, even though Molly was demolishing her own defenses almost as rapidly as the Corpsetaker was. As tactics go, that one had two edges. Molly was hurting herself, but by doing so, she was preventing the Corpsetaker from pressing too closely, lest she be caught up in the vast bursts of destruction being exchanged. A mistake could easily destroy anyone’s mind in that vista of havoc, centuries-old necromancer or not. On the other hand, if she spotted where Molly was fighting from, it looked like she’d have the power to drive in and crush my apprentice. But if she closed in on the wrong target, she’d leave herself wide-open to a surprise attack from the real Molly. Corpsetaker had to know that, just as she had to know that if she simply kept on the pressure, the whole place would eventually be ground down and Molly would be destroyed anyway.
My apprentice had come with a good plan, but she had miscalculated. The Corpsetaker was a hell of a lot stronger than she had expected. Molly was playing the most aggressive defensive plan I’d ever seen, and hoping that she could pressure the Corpsetaker into making a mistake. It wasn’t a good plan, but it was all she had.
Butcher, Jim (2011-07-26). Ghost Story: A Novel of the Dresden Files (Kindle Locations 7029-7034). Penguin Group. Kindle Edition.
I flew low, snaking through the streets, and only after I’d crossed my own trail five or six times without spotting anything shadowing me did I finally soar in to the tree house.
It looked like a miniature home, with a door and siding and trim and windows and everything. A rope ladder allowed one to climb up to the porch, but it had been pulled up. I floated up to the door on the flying carpet and knocked politely.
“I have you now,” I said, as much like James Earl Jones as I could. I do a better Yul Brynner.
Molly’s strained face appeared at the window and she blinked. “Harry?”
“What’s with the come-hither, grasshopper?” I asked. “You practically vacuumed me in with the Corpsetaker.”
Molly narrowed her eyes and said, “What was I wearing the first time we met?”
I blinked at her, opened my mouth, closed it, thought about it, and then said, “Oh, come on, Moll. I have no idea. Clothes? You were, like, eight years old and your mom tried to shut the door in my face and I was there to see your dad.”
She nodded once, as if that was the answer she’d been looking for, and opened the door. “Come on.”
I went into the tree house with her. The inside was bigger than the outside. You can do that sort of thing in your imagination. It’s kind of fun. I’ve got one closet of my castle that looks like a giant disco roller rink. The roller skaters come after you like juggernaut, the music makes heads explode, and the mirror ball distributes a killer laser beam.
Molly’s headquarters looked like the bridge of, I kid you not, the U.S.S. Enterprise. The old one. The one that was full of dials that obviously didn’t do anything and that had a high-pitched, echoing cricket chirp going off every five or six seconds.
There was an upside to that setting, though: Molly was wearing one of the old sixties miniskirt uniforms.
Look, I’m not interested in a relationship with the kid. I do love her tremendously. But that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t look fantastic. Anyone with eyes can see that, and I’ve always been the kind of person who can appreciate gorgeous scenery without feeling a need to go camping in it.
Actually, glancing around, there were about half a dozen Mollys, all of them wearing old sixties miniskirt uniforms, each of them manning a different station. The one who had opened the door had jet-black hair in a neat, almost mathematical, gamine-style cut and slightly pointed ears.
“Star Trek?” I asked her. “Really?”
“What?” she demanded, bending unnaturally black eyebrows together.
“There are two kinds of people in the universe, Molly,” I said. “Star Trek fans and Star Wars fans. This is shocking.”
She sniffed. “This is the post-nerd-closet world, Harry. It’s okay to like both.”
“Blasphemy and lies,” I said.
She arched an eyebrow at me with Nimoysian perfection and went back to her station.
Communications Officer Molly, in a red uniform with a curly black fro and a silver object the size of a toaster in her ear, said, “Quadrant four is below five percent, and the extra pressure is being directed at quadrant three.”
Captain Molly, in her gold outfit, with her hair in a precise Jacqueline Onassis do, spun the bridge chair toward Communications Molly and said, “Pull out everything and shift it to quadrant three ahead of them.” The chair spun back toward Science Officer Molly. “Set off the nukes in four.”
Science Molly arched an eyebrow, askance.
“Oh, hush. I’m the captain, you’re the first officer, and that’s that,” snapped Captain Molly. “We’re fighting a war here. So set off the nukes. Hi, Harry.”
“Molly,” I said. “Nukes?”
“I was saving them as a surprise,” she said.
There was a big TV screen at the front of the room—not a flat-screen. A big, slightly curved old CRT. It went bright white all of a sudden.
“Ensign,” Captain Molly said.
Ensign Molly, dressed in a red uniform, wearing braces on her teeth, and maybe ten years younger than Captain Molly, twiddled some of the dials that didn’t do anything, and the bright white light dimmed down.
From outside, there was a long scream. An enormous one. Like, Godzilla-sized, or maybe bigger.
Everyone on the bridge froze. A brass section from nowhere played an ominous sting: bahm-pahhhhhhhhhhm. “
You’re kidding,” I said, looking around. “A sound track?”
“I don’t mean to,” Ensign Molly said in a strained, teenager tone. She had a Russian accent that sounded exactly like Sanya. “I watched show too much when I was kid, okay?”
“Your brain is a very strange place,” I said. I meant it as a compliment, and it showed in my voice. Ensign Molly gave me a glowing grin and turned back to her station.
-
Butcher, Jim (2011-07-26). Ghost Story: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 432). Penguin Group. Kindle Edition.
Created in her sixth month in Luceti after about two months of bonding with Tsinku, these jacks will release lightning when thrown. The spell was designed to release the lightning at the point of contact and will not activate unless the command for releasing the bound energy is also spoken.
As of 10/18/12, they are untested in the practical sense.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Powers
Mental Defenses/Consequences of Mind Magic
Right now, Molly was thrusting an array of images and ideas at the Corpsetaker, trying to force the other to pay attention to them. Some of the thoughts would be there to undermine defenses, others to assault them, and still others trying to slip past unnoticed to wreak havoc from within. Some of the thoughts would be simple things—whispered doubts meant to shake the other’s confidence, for example. Others would be far more complex constructions, idea demons imagined ahead of time, prepared for such an occasion and unleashed upon the thoughts and memories of the foe.
The White Council hated mind magic, generally speaking. If you beat someone’s defenses, you could do a lot of things to them, and precious few of them were good. Events, however, had forced them to acknowledge the necessity of giving all of its members lessons in psychic self-defense that were more comprehensive than the simple wall technique that I’d been briefly introduced to. A couple of old-timers who knew how to play the game had begun dispensing the basics to everyone interested in learning.
As it turned out, I had a natural fortress of personality, which explained a lot—like how hard it had always been for faerie glamour to trick me for long, and why I’d been able to grind through several forms of mental assault over the years. If someone came in after me, they had a big badass castle to contend with. They could pound on it all day, as such things were measured, without breaking the defenses, and I’d been told that it would take an extended campaign to conquer my head entirely—like any decent castle, there were multiple lines and structures where new defenses could take hold. But I didn’t have much of a forward game. For me, the best offense had to be an obstinate defense.
Molly, on the other hand . . . well. Molly was sort of scary.
Her castle wasn’t huge and imposing—the damned thing was invisible. Made of mirrors, covered in fog, wrapped in darkness, and generally hard even to pin down, much less besiege; anyone who went into her head had better bring a GPS, a seeing-eye dog, and a backup set of eyeballs. Worse, her offense was like dealing with a Mongolian horde. She’d send in waves and waves of every kind of mental construction imaginable, and while you were busy looking at those, ninja thoughts would be sneaking through your subconscious, planting the psychological equivalent of explosives. We’d practiced against each other a lot—immovable object versus irresistible force. It generally ended in a draw, when Molly had to quit and nurse a headache, at which point I would join her in scarfing down aspirin. A couple of times, my thuggish constructions had stumbled over her defenses and started breaking mirrors. A couple of times, her horde had gotten lucky or particularly sneaky. We’d had the same thought-image set up to signal victory—Vader swooping down in his TIE fighter, smugly stating, “I have you now.” Once that got through, the game was over.
But outside of practice, that thought could just as easily be something more like, “Put your gun into your mouth and pull the trigger.” We both knew that. We both worked hard to improve as a result. It was a part of the training I’d taken every bit as seriously as teaching her theory or enchantments or exorcism, or any of a hundred other areas we’d covered over the past few years.
Butcher, Jim (2011-07-26). Ghost Story: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 423). Roc. Kindle Edition.
Sensitive
Butcher, Jim (2011-07-26). Ghost Story: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 158). Roc. Kindle Edition.
Molly limped along between the two little spirits, holding hands with each of them. She was moving with her back perfectly rigid, her steps cautious, and she looked a little green around the gills. Like I said, she’s a sensitive. She must have figured out the true nature of the child ghosts immediately upon meeting them, and she clearly did not relish the idea of being in skin contact with them. It said a lot about her intestinal fortitude that she had accompanied them at all. It probably said even more about her trust in me.
Butcher, Jim (2011-07-26). Ghost Story: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 357). Roc. Kindle Edition.
“It was the vampire, wasn’t it,” I said. “Seeing him die.”
She blinked at me. Then at the scattered beads. “I…I didn’t just see it, Harry. I felt it. I can’t explain it any better than that. Inside my head. I felt it, the same way I felt that poor girl. But this was horrible.”
Butcher, Jim (2008-02-05). White Night (The Dresden Files, Book 9) (p. 321). Penguin Group. Kindle Edition.
“So,” he said. “What is she going to do?”
“Look into its eyes,” I said.
He gave me a somewhat skeptical look. “Trying to see the last thing impressed on her retinas or something? You know that’s pretty much mythical, right?”
“Other impressions get left on a body,” I said. “Final thoughts, sometimes. Emotions, sensations.”
I shook my head. “Technically, those kinds of impressions can get left on almost any kind of inanimate object. You’ve heard of object reading, right?”
“That’s for real?” he asked.
“Yeah. But it’s an easy sort of thing to contaminate, and it can be tricky as hell—and entirely apart from that, it’s extremely difficult to do.”
[...]
“You said it might not be pleasant for her,” Butters said. “Why?”
“Because if something’s there, and she can sense it, she gets to experience it. First person. Like she’s living it herself.”
Butcher, Jim (2008-02-05). White Night (The Dresden Files, Book 9) (pp. 24-26). Penguin Group. Kindle Edition.
I stepped back into the circle, tugging Molly along with me until we were standing on the heavy bloodstain where the boy had been executed. There was a psychic remnant of the death there, a cold, quivering tension in the air, an echo of rage and fear and death. Molly shuddered as her feet came to rest atop the stained concrete. She must have felt it, too.
Butcher, Jim (2007-02-06). Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files, Book 8) (p. 369). Penguin Group. Kindle Edition.
Charity nodded, and also looked back at the kids. “My daughter. How is her training progressing?”
“Well, I think,” I said. “Her talents don’t lie anywhere close to the same areas mine do. And she’s never going to be much of a combat wizard.”
Charity frowned. “Why do you say that? Do you think she isn’t strong enough?”
“Strength has nothing to do with it. But her greatest talents make her unsuited for it in some ways.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, she’s good with subtle things. Delicate things. Her ability at handling fine, sensitive magic is outstanding, and increasing all the time. But that same sensitivity means that she has problems handling the psychic stresses of real combat. It also makes the gross physical stuff a real challenge for her.”
“Like stopping snowballs?” Charity asked.
“Snowballs are good practice,” I said. “Nothing gets hurt but her pride.”
Charity nodded, frowning. “But you didn’t learn with snowballs, did you.”
The memory of my first shielding lesson under Justin DuMorne wasn’t a particularly sentimental one. “Baseballs.”
“Merciful God,” Charity said, shaking her head. “How old were you?”
“Thirteen.” I shrugged a shoulder. “Pain’s a good motivator. I learned fast.”
“But you aren’t trying to teach my daughter the same way,” Charity said.
“There’s no rush,” I said.
Butcher, Jim (2009-03-03). Small Favor: A Novel of the Dresden Files (pp. 3-4). Penguin Group. Kindle Edition.
Soulgaze
Butcher, Jim (2010-04-06). Changes: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 206). Roc. Kindle Edition.
When a practicing wizard and a being with a soul (all mortals along with White Court vampires and others) look each other in the eyes, it begins what is known as a soulgaze. It gives the other a window into their soul, which can’t be faked. It doesn’t relay specific information (you can’t use it to interrogate someone), but it does give one a vague impression on whether they’re trustworthy or not, or if they’ve been psychically harmed, etc. Just like if one were to use their Sight, the memory of the gaze doesn’t fade with time, being as sharp years later as when it happened. One circumstance in which a Soulgaze doesn’t occur, is when a doctor looked into Harry’s eyes. He didn’t so much as look into his eyes, as examine them, which is professional intent.
Veils
Veils can be seen through with the Wizard's Sight and perhaps some varieties of sentient magical creatures.
Headcanon
Skills
- Can make a mean cup of coffee
Habits
Attitudes | History | Random Opinions
For me magic is like... it's a little like music. It's in the air and it's all around, but you have to be able to gather your will and focus to be able to hold all the strings in your hand and play too.
Stories Behind Tattoos
Butcher, Jim (2007-02-06). Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files, Book 8) (p. 50). Penguin Group. Kindle Edition.
(And Piercings)
One-Woman Rave
Butcher, Jim (2010-04-06). Changes: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 193). Roc. Kindle Edition.
DJ Molly C lifted both of her wands and turned the battle chaos to eleven.
Color and light and screaming sound erupted from those two little wands. Bands of light and darkness flowed around and over the oncoming jaguar warriors, fluttering images of bright sunshine intertwining with other images of yawning pits suddenly gaping before the feet of the attackers. Bursts of sound, shrieks and clashes and booms, and high-pitched noises like on steroids sent the hyperkeen senses of full vampires into overload, literally forcing them back onto the weapons of those coming behind them.
Butcher, Jim (2010-04-06). Changes: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 392). Roc. Kindle Edition.
Known Spells
Hireki | Counteracts veils
Rokotsu | Opens a Way into the Nevernever
Neru | Puts target to sleep
Ideru | Can pull souls from other people's body
Source
Assorted Skills
World Building
Magic and Types of Magic
Magic in its simplest form is the energy produced by life. Practitioners are able to use this energy to modify reality. One of the main atributes about magic is that its rules are always slightly changing and an example of this is how it currently effects technology. According to Jim Butcher, "Magic wasn’t always screwing up post WW2 tech. Before WW2 magic had other effects. It sorta changes slowly over time, and about every 3 centuries it rolls over into something else. At one time, instead of magic making machines flip out it made cream go bad. Before that magic made weird molls on your skin and fire would burn slightly different colors when you were around it."[1] Currently, magic interferes with technology and causes it to randomly break down; the more magic in the area, the greater the chance of something wrong happening.
Types of Magic
There are many ways to use magic, some of them are interweaved with each other.
Necromancy: Magic concerned with death and the dead. Necromancers could animate corpses, summon spectres, take information from the brain of a corpse, switch bodies, etc. The White Council forbids the use of necromancy with the Fifth Law of Magic.
Psychomancy: Magic concerned with the mind (mind control).
Thaumaturgy: The art of creating magical links between an object and a target. It is used in locating spells, voodoo dolls etc. It needs a part of the target to be successful, eg. blood, hair, etc.
Ectomancy: Magic concerned with ghosts.
Kinetomancy: Magic of energy and movement
Ferromancy: Magnetics/electrics
Anthropomancy: The magical art of attempting to divine the future or gain information by reading human entrails.
Neuromancy: The magical art of mind reading.
Vulcanomancy: Earth magic, specifically dealing with magma.
Phonoturgy: Sound magic
Holomancy: The art of Invisibility magic
Verisimilomancy: The art of illusion magic
Aeromancy: The magical art of Flight.
Hydromancy: The magic that controlles Water.
Source
The Seven Laws of Magic
2. Thou shalt not transform others.
3. Thou shalt not invade the mind of another.
4. Thou shalt not enthrall another.
5. Thou shalt not reach beyond the borders of life.
6. Thou shalt not swim against the Currents of Time.
7. Thou shalt not seek beyond the Outer Gates.
The Swords of the Cross
Amoracchius, The Sword of Love.
It has the form of a heavy European broad sword.
-Aka: Excalibur and the only one of the three swords that hasn't been reworked since it's original forging
-Daddy's sword
Fidelacchius, The Sword of Faith.
It has the form of a katana.
-According to Sir Staurt in Ghost Story the blade is actually the legendary sword Kusanagi
Esperacchius, The Sword of Hope.
It has the form of a cavalry sabre.
-It has been confirmed by the spirit of Sir Stuart that Esperacchius is also known as Durendal. Durendal once belonged to Roland, the chief paladin of Charlemagne and a symbol of hope for France against the Spanish Saracens
Family
-------------------------------------------------
Molly, Daniel, Matthew, Alicia, Amanda, Hope, Harry
Home
This time, we appeared in front of a Chicago home. There were a couple of ancient oak trees in the yard. The house was a white Colonial number with a white picket fence out front, and evidence of children in the form of several snowmen that were slowly sagging to their deaths in the warm evening air.
Butcher, Jim (2011-07-26). Ghost Story: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 466). Roc. Kindle Edition.
Vampire Courts
They have several weaknesses, among them garlic, tokens of faith, sunlight, running water, fire, and decapitation.[1]
The basic powers of a Black Court seems to be speed and strength superior to humans. They seem to be the most physically powerful of the courts, as Mavra was able to move so fast as to be only a blur. All but the most powerful of them must sleep during the day. Vampires seem capable of exerting a certain mind control and are able to create thralls and the more violent, insane, renfields. They are also able to control animals and increase their natural abilities.
Their similarity to vampires in European vampire (most notably them being animated corpses) appear to indicate that Black Court vampires have originated there.
-Source
Red Court: Vampires less human-like than the White Court. Instead they were slimy bat-like creatures hidden behind incredibly sensuous human costumes (made of an outer skin). They used these costumes to trick their prey into being more comfortable and to hide in plain sight. They were incredibly strong and fast, and could shake off any injury quickly. The Red Court was vulnerable to sunlight and to having their bellies cut open, which could spill the blood they had drunk and eventually kill them. Their saliva contained a potent magical narcotic which gave the prey a euphoric feeling and was highly addictive, allowing the Red Court to control their victims rather easily. The narcotic lowered the victim's inhibitions while dulling the pain of the vampire's bite. Addicted humans had been shown to go to great lengths to protect their vampiric masters, and willingly provided information from the mortal community as needed.
-Source
White Court: Vampires born to their vampiric state, rather than being created (as is the case with Black and Red Court vampires). They are for all intents and purposes human until their vampirism manifests, which occurs sometime around the age of their maturity. As with the Red Court, their first feeding, with its subsequent and almost inevitable kill, usually marks their full transformation. However, under specific circumstances, individuals descended from White Court vampires may curtail their transformation into vampires[1].
White Court vampires are not endowed with as much physical strength as Red or Black Court vampires, under normal circumstances. Their physical performance levels (standing jump heights, endurance, and so on) are slightly better than those of an ordinary human of equivalent size and health, but they can channel unused emotional energy as fuel for performance boosts of limited duration. This energy is gained by feeding from their victims through acts of lust (or fear or pain, depending on the family). Unlike the Black or Red Courts, White Court vampires do not drink blood. However, similar to the Red Court, the feeding is addictive, and victims usually come back for more.(1)
They make up for this lack of physical prowess by having far fewer vulnerabilities than other kinds of vampires. Sunlight and symbols of faith do not harm them at all. (Thomas feels "uneasy" at the thought of entering a church, but this is possibly due more to his own guilt than to any objective vulnerability, as he was physically able to enter the church.) Their power derives from an internal demonic essence they call the "Hunger", which acts as a kind of a battery. If they refrain from feeding for too long, this "Hunger" drives them into a frenzy where they must feed (almost always killing their victims), and can drive them permanently insane.
When needed, they can tap into this store of energy to augment their strength, speed, resilience, and healing ability far beyond normal; while doing this, they radiate waves of cold (possibly an illusory reaction of normal humans to their energy sink), their skin whitens, and their eyes turn an unnatural silver. White Court vampire blood is pinkish instead of red.
Their largest weakness is true love. People who are (or who have recently been) in real, affectionate, sacrificial love are highly resistant to White Court control, and can even physically burn and blister vampire skin. Also, White Court vampires are born, not turned like Red and Black Court vampires; if the offspring of a White Court vampire falls in love with someone who feels the same way before feeding for the first time, the love can destroy the demonic side before it can manifest. This allows the person to live a normal, mortal life. Otherwise White Court vampires are long lived, possibly immortal. Thomas raith's father has lived for centuries.
-Source
(1) Molly has twice been exposed to this sort of experience, the first time vicariously through a corpse, the second time more recently, with Thomas. With her sensitivity and the addictive nature of the vampiric control, Harry's been noted to be worried about what effects it could have had on her.
Mouse
Mouse seems to possess an extremely high level of intelligence, able to formulate complex plans and understand instructions. He is a capable fighter and fast runner, and will occasionally emit a nimbus of pale light while in combat. His bark has the ability to break people out of an enchanted sleep and spur them to action. He also seems to possess an endurance and healing ability far beyond mortal dogs; a few hours after being hit by a car, he is able to fight a White Court vampire and his henchman.[4]
Foo Dogs
Foo Dogs, also called temple dogs, fu dogs or lion dogs are a special breed of dog, belived to be the mortal decendants of an minor god who took on a dog from They are renowned for their ability to detect magical things and even dark intentions. The white council use fu dog staues as enchanted equivelant of a metal detector. They can magicly attack people who attempt to violate or push past them.
foo dogs are attributed with several powers includeing human level intellect, increased survivability and healing abilities and ability to sense danger.
Source
Not sure where to put this yet, but I want the reference
I let out a low, noncommittal sound. “Then why are you here?”
“B-because,” she said, searching for words. “Because I need to do it. I know that what you’re doing is necessary. And it’s right. And I know that you’re doing it because you’re the only one who can. And I want to help.”
“You think you’re strong enough to help?” I asked her.
She bit her lip again and met my eyes for just a second. “I think…I think it doesn’t matter how strong my magic is. I know I don’t…I don’t know how to do these things like you do. The guns and the battles and…” She lifted her chin and seemed to gather herself a little. “But I know more than most.”
“You know some,” I admitted. “But you got to understand, kid. That won’t mean much once things get nasty. There’s no time for thinking or second chances.”
She nodded. “All I can promise you is that I won’t leave you when you need me. I’ll do whatever you think I can. I’ll stay here and man the phone. I’ll drive the car. I’ll walk at the back and hold the flashlight. Whatever you want.”
She met my eyes and her own hardened. “But I can’t sit at home being safe. I need to be a part of this. I need to help.”
There was a sudden, sharp sound as the leather strand of her bracelet snapped of its own volition. Black beads flew upward with so much force that they rattled off the ceiling and went bouncing around the apartment for a good ten seconds. Mister, still batting playfully at his gift sack of catnip, paused to watch them, ears flicking, eyes alertly tracking their movement.
I went up to the girl, who was staring at them, mystified. “It was the vampire, wasn’t it,” I said. “Seeing him die.”
She blinked at me. Then at the scattered beads. “I…I didn’t just see it, Harry. I felt it. I can’t explain it any better than that. Inside my head. I felt it, the same way I felt that poor girl. But this was horrible.”
“Yeah,” I said. “You’re a sensitive. It’s a tremendous talent, but it has some drawbacks to it. In this case, though, I’m glad you have it.”
“Why?” she whispered. I gestured at the scattered beads.
“Congratulations, kid,” I told her quietly. “You’re ready.”
She blinked at me, her head tilted. “What?”
I took the now-empty leather strand and held it up between two fingers. “It wasn’t about power, Molly. It was never about power. You’ve got plenty of that.”
She shook her head. “But…all those times…”
“The beads weren’t ever going to go up. Like I said, power had nothing to do with it. You didn’t need that. You needed brains.” I thumped a forefinger over one of her eyebrows. “You needed to open your eyes. You needed to be truly aware of how dangerous things are. You needed to understand your limitations. And you needed to know why you should set out on something like this.”
“But…all I said was that I was scared.”
“After what you got to experience? That’s smart, kid,” I said. “I’m scared, too. Every time something like this happens, it scares me. But being strong doesn’t get you through. Being smart does. I’ve beaten people and things who were stronger than I was, because they didn’t use their heads, or because I used what I had better than they did. It isn’t about muscle, kiddo, magical or otherwise. It’s about your attitude. About your mind.”
She nodded slowly and said, “About doing things for the right reasons.”
“You don’t throw down like this just because you’re strong enough to do it,” I said. “You do it because you don’t have much choice. You do it because it’s unacceptable to walk away, and still live with yourself later.”
She stared at me for a second, and then her eyes widened. “Otherwise, you’re using power for the sake of using power.”
I nodded. “And power tends to corrupt. It isn’t hard to love using it, Molly. You’ve got to go in with the right attitude or…”
“Or the power starts using you,” she said. She’d heard the argument before, but this was the first time she said the words slowly, thoughtfully, as if she’d actually understood them, instead of just parroting them back to me. Then she looked up. “That’s why you do it. Why you help people. You’re using the power for someone other than yourself.”
“That’s part of it,” I said. “Yeah.”
“I feel…sort of stupid.”
“There’s a difference in knowing something”—I poked her head again—“and knowing it.” I touched the middle of her sternum. “See?”
She nodded slowly. Then she took the strand back from me and put it back on her wrist. There was just enough left to let her tie it again. She held it up so that I could see and said, “So that I’ll remember.”
Butcher, Jim (2008-02-05). White Night (The Dresden Files, Book 9) (pp. 321-322). Penguin Group. Kindle Edition.
Items
Canon
Luceti/Headcanon
Crucifix, First Communion
Battle Coat and Existence of "Various Focus Items"
Butcher, Jim (2010-04-06). Changes: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 327). Roc. Kindle Edition.
Wands
Butcher, Jim (2010-04-06). Changes: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 399). Roc. Kindle Edition.
Wands, updated
She still wore her ragged clothing beneath the coat, but she’d added a nylon-web tactical belt to her ensemble. It bore several potions, which she’d always been good at making, and a pair of wands covered in rows of runes and sigils like those on my own staff. One was tipped in a crystal of white quartz, the other with an amethyst.
Butcher, Jim (2011-07-26). Ghost Story: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 357). Roc. Kindle Edition.
Bracelet
Circle Magic
(Seen in Changes)
Focus Items/Evocation
Foci are items designed to help focus power. They are generally used when a wizard is unable to bring up the control needed for a spell. Foci are mainly used in evocations. Described as "quick and dirty" , they are akin to a punch compared with higher levels of martial arts.The wizard channels his power through the nessesary focus when using one. Probably the most common type of focus that is used is the staff. The only wizard of any ability known not to use a staff is Elaine Mallory
We know she's got a few in Changes, but also that they weren't made for combat. She had a completely different set in Ghost Story, so she can probably make them on her own.
Potions
-Seen in Side Jobs; referenced in Ghost Story (she's good at these)
--escape potion
--love/lust potion (doubt that he taught her this)
--Sight potion (Three-Eye) (Storm Front)
--Camouflage potion (Fool Moon)
--Pick-me-up potion (Fool Moon)
--Anti-venom against Red Court Vampires (Death Masks)
--Semi-flight potion (Changes)
Wards
(She can at least open Harry's. Unsure if she can make her own, but if even practitioners can, it seems logical?)
Molly's mindscape - a battle for possession
There was a ruined city all around me. The sky above boiled with storm clouds, moving and roiling too quickly to be real, filled with contrasting colors of lightning. Rain hammered down. I heard screams and shouted imprecations all around me, overlapping one another, coming from thousands of sources, blending into a riotous roar—and every single voice was either Molly’s or the Corpsetaker’s.
As I watched, some great beast somewhere between a serpent and a whale smashed its way through a brick building—a fortress, I realized—maybe fifty yards away, thrashing about as it fell and grinding it to powder. A small trio of dots of bright red light appeared on the vast thing’s rubble-dusted flanks, just like the targeting of the Predator’s shoulder cannon in the movies of the same name, and then multiple streaks of blue-white light flashed in from somewhere and blew a series of holes the size of train tunnels right through the creature. Around me, I saw groups of soldiers, many of them in sinister black uniforms, others looking like idealized versions of United States infantry, laying into one another with weapons of every sort imaginable, from swords to rocket launchers.
A line of tracer fire went streaking right through me, having no more effect than a stiff breeze. I breathed a faint sigh of relief. I was inside Molly’s mindscape, but her conflict was not with me, and neither was the Corpsetaker’s. I was just as much a ghost here at the moment as I had been back in the real world.
The city around me, I saw, was a vast grid of fortified buildings, and I realized that the kid had changed her usual tactics. She wasn’t trying to obscure the location of her mental fortress with the usual tricks of darkness and fog. She had instead chosen a different method of obfuscation, building a sprawl of decoys, hiding the true core of her mind somewhere among them.
Corpsetaker had countered her, it would seem, by the simple if difficult expedient of deciding to crush them all, even if it had to be done one at a time. That vast beast construct had been something more massive than I had ever attempted in my own imagination, though Molly had tossed some of those at me once or twice. It wasn’t simply a matter of thinking big—there was an energy investment in creating something with that kind of mental mass, and Molly generally felt such huge, unsubtle thrusts weren’t worth the effort they took—especially since someone with the right attitude and imagination would take them down with only moderately more difficulty than small constructs.
Corpsetaker, though, evidently didn’t agree. She was a lot older than Molly or me, and she would have deeper reserves of strength to call upon, greater discipline, and the confidence of long experience. The kid had managed to take on the Corpsetaker on Molly’s most familiar ground, and to play her hand in her strongest suit—but my apprentice’s strength didn’t look like it was holding up well against the necromancer’s experience and expertise.
I stopped paying attention to everything happening—all the artillery strikes and cavalry charges and shambling hordes of zombies and storms of knives that just came whirling out of the sky. The form of any given construct wasn’t as important as the fact of its existence. A flying arrow that could pierce the heart, for example, was potentially just as dangerous as an animate shadow reaching out with smothering black talons. As long as one could imagine an appropriate construct to counter the threat, and do so in time to stop it, any construct could be defeated. It was a simple thing at its most basic level, and it sounded easy. But once you’re throwing out dozens or hundreds—or thousands—of offensive and defensive constructs at a time . . . Believe me—it takes your full attention.
It’s also all you can do to deal with one opponent, which explained why I hadn’t been assaulted by the Corpsetaker instantly, if she had even taken note of my presence at all. She and Molly were locked together tight. The soulgaze had probably played a part in that. Neither was letting go until her opponent was dead. Both combatants were throwing enormous amounts of offensive constructs at each other, even though Molly was demolishing her own defenses almost as rapidly as the Corpsetaker was. As tactics go, that one had two edges. Molly was hurting herself, but by doing so, she was preventing the Corpsetaker from pressing too closely, lest she be caught up in the vast bursts of destruction being exchanged. A mistake could easily destroy anyone’s mind in that vista of havoc, centuries-old necromancer or not. On the other hand, if she spotted where Molly was fighting from, it looked like she’d have the power to drive in and crush my apprentice. But if she closed in on the wrong target, she’d leave herself wide-open to a surprise attack from the real Molly. Corpsetaker had to know that, just as she had to know that if she simply kept on the pressure, the whole place would eventually be ground down and Molly would be destroyed anyway.
My apprentice had come with a good plan, but she had miscalculated. The Corpsetaker was a hell of a lot stronger than she had expected. Molly was playing the most aggressive defensive plan I’d ever seen, and hoping that she could pressure the Corpsetaker into making a mistake. It wasn’t a good plan, but it was all she had.
Butcher, Jim (2011-07-26). Ghost Story: A Novel of the Dresden Files (Kindle Locations 7029-7034). Penguin Group. Kindle Edition.
Molly the Star Trek Fangirl
It looked like a miniature home, with a door and siding and trim and windows and everything. A rope ladder allowed one to climb up to the porch, but it had been pulled up. I floated up to the door on the flying carpet and knocked politely.
“I have you now,” I said, as much like James Earl Jones as I could. I do a better Yul Brynner.
Molly’s strained face appeared at the window and she blinked. “Harry?”
“What’s with the come-hither, grasshopper?” I asked. “You practically vacuumed me in with the Corpsetaker.”
Molly narrowed her eyes and said, “What was I wearing the first time we met?”
I blinked at her, opened my mouth, closed it, thought about it, and then said, “Oh, come on, Moll. I have no idea. Clothes? You were, like, eight years old and your mom tried to shut the door in my face and I was there to see your dad.”
She nodded once, as if that was the answer she’d been looking for, and opened the door. “Come on.”
I went into the tree house with her. The inside was bigger than the outside. You can do that sort of thing in your imagination. It’s kind of fun. I’ve got one closet of my castle that looks like a giant disco roller rink. The roller skaters come after you like juggernaut, the music makes heads explode, and the mirror ball distributes a killer laser beam.
Molly’s headquarters looked like the bridge of, I kid you not, the U.S.S. Enterprise. The old one. The one that was full of dials that obviously didn’t do anything and that had a high-pitched, echoing cricket chirp going off every five or six seconds.
There was an upside to that setting, though: Molly was wearing one of the old sixties miniskirt uniforms.
Look, I’m not interested in a relationship with the kid. I do love her tremendously. But that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t look fantastic. Anyone with eyes can see that, and I’ve always been the kind of person who can appreciate gorgeous scenery without feeling a need to go camping in it.
Actually, glancing around, there were about half a dozen Mollys, all of them wearing old sixties miniskirt uniforms, each of them manning a different station. The one who had opened the door had jet-black hair in a neat, almost mathematical, gamine-style cut and slightly pointed ears.
“Star Trek?” I asked her. “Really?”
“What?” she demanded, bending unnaturally black eyebrows together.
“There are two kinds of people in the universe, Molly,” I said. “Star Trek fans and Star Wars fans. This is shocking.”
She sniffed. “This is the post-nerd-closet world, Harry. It’s okay to like both.”
“Blasphemy and lies,” I said.
She arched an eyebrow at me with Nimoysian perfection and went back to her station.
Communications Officer Molly, in a red uniform with a curly black fro and a silver object the size of a toaster in her ear, said, “Quadrant four is below five percent, and the extra pressure is being directed at quadrant three.”
Captain Molly, in her gold outfit, with her hair in a precise Jacqueline Onassis do, spun the bridge chair toward Communications Molly and said, “Pull out everything and shift it to quadrant three ahead of them.” The chair spun back toward Science Officer Molly. “Set off the nukes in four.”
Science Molly arched an eyebrow, askance.
“Oh, hush. I’m the captain, you’re the first officer, and that’s that,” snapped Captain Molly. “We’re fighting a war here. So set off the nukes. Hi, Harry.”
“Molly,” I said. “Nukes?”
“I was saving them as a surprise,” she said.
There was a big TV screen at the front of the room—not a flat-screen. A big, slightly curved old CRT. It went bright white all of a sudden.
“Ensign,” Captain Molly said.
Ensign Molly, dressed in a red uniform, wearing braces on her teeth, and maybe ten years younger than Captain Molly, twiddled some of the dials that didn’t do anything, and the bright white light dimmed down.
From outside, there was a long scream. An enormous one. Like, Godzilla-sized, or maybe bigger.
Everyone on the bridge froze. A brass section from nowhere played an ominous sting: bahm-pahhhhhhhhhhm. “
You’re kidding,” I said, looking around. “A sound track?”
“I don’t mean to,” Ensign Molly said in a strained, teenager tone. She had a Russian accent that sounded exactly like Sanya. “I watched show too much when I was kid, okay?”
“Your brain is a very strange place,” I said. I meant it as a compliment, and it showed in my voice. Ensign Molly gave me a glowing grin and turned back to her station.
-
Butcher, Jim (2011-07-26). Ghost Story: A Novel of the Dresden Files (p. 432). Penguin Group. Kindle Edition.
Lightning Jacks
Created in her sixth month in Luceti after about two months of bonding with Tsinku, these jacks will release lightning when thrown. The spell was designed to release the lightning at the point of contact and will not activate unless the command for releasing the bound energy is also spoken.
As of 10/18/12, they are untested in the practical sense.